[Reviews - 537]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 5234 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
I know, I know, I"m going to lose everybody and be stuck posting fics that absolutely no one reads if I don't quit screwing up posting...but I really do have a good reason for not posting. Yesterday, besides posting a Spuffy wallpaper on livejournal, I was miserably sick and slept all day..

But you get the update todayy....


And an extra big thank you to everyone who hasn't quit reading this fic just because I haven't been updating nearly as much :)
Chapter 16

“You have a theory? What do you mean a theory?”

“Now don’t go killing me for this. I’ve been a bit thick and just really thought of it…I mean I wondered before but I didn’t know it was getting to you so…Okay so I did know how sick it was making you, I was just trying to figure it out before I told you.”

“Told me what?”

“What are the chances I can tell you after we go talk with your mum?”

“Why?”

“Because I think it might not be good for us both to have one more thing on our minds when we talk to her.”

“You’re just trying to get out of telling me.”

“No, I’m not. I was…I wasn’t going to tell you tonight with all you had going on but you had to know that the same thing wasn’t happening to you, so…”

“You’re not going to tell me.”

“I promise I am. I already feel like a right wanker for keeping it to myself for so long but…with the way Watcher boy and Red have been doing research and getting nowhere…I thought they’d either decide I was full of it and then you’d never consider it or….or they’d go sniffing around and get close to figuring it out and it’d turn out there was some demon needed to fix everything and they’d either tip him off, run him off, or kill him and then…I just thought I could handle it better on my own.”

“Spike, you do remember how well your plans usually go, don’t you?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know I tried to warn you right off the bat but you just dismissed it. Not exactly crazy for me to think you’d do the same again.”

“What do you—You mean that vamp that was all warning boy? You sent him?”

“I thought that just maybe if it was…I knew you’d think I was just trying for attention and you couldn’t stand me at that point so I thought that way might work.”

“I knew it was you! Fine, so you can tell me later. But…” now she was back to the blushing, “I have to change before I can go back to the hospital and…I don’t think I can go inside just yet. Maybe you could get the phone and call Willow to come get me some clothes?” she suggested sheepishly.

“Or I could get you the phone, you could call the hospital and tell them about your friend with the sun problem coming to see your mother with you, and I could go get you the clothes.”

“Why would I let you go through my clothes?” she tried to look stern.

“I won’t do anything bad, won’t even go snooping through your lacy bits if you don’t want. Just a nice shirt, sweater, and some pants.”

“You’re not exactly good with the matching. Anyway, how do I know you won’t go looking through my underwear?”

“Because I just said I wouldn’t and if ever there’s been a day I wouldn’t lie to you, it’s today.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. I’d tell you where the phone—or for that matter my clothes—are but you already know I’m sure.”

“If it’d make you feel better you could tell me anyway.”

“No, it’s alright, just bring me the cordless and then get me some clothes.”

“Aye aye,” he mock saluted with his sarcastic response.

“Just shut up and get the phone,” the words could have been harsh, but she kept her tone light.

Grabbing the spare key from over the door—and pointedly ignoring Buffy’s response to him immediately knowing where it was—Spike made his way into the kitchen. The phone wasn’t far away and it took him just a few seconds to get back outside and hand her the phone.

“What color bra you have on, luv?” he asked when he was almost back inside again and Buffy resisted the urge—the strong urge—to throw the phone at his head.

“What do you need to know for?”

“Not getting you one of those pretty white shirts you have if it’s black or some such.”

Surprised that he even had the thought, but not sure she was at a point of telling Spike what color her bra was, she answered vaguely, “Or some such.”

“I might need more specifics…wouldn’t want something not to match after all.”

“It’s red; now go get me some clothes before I realize what an insane idea it was to agree to this.”

Buffy made a display of not looking at Spike as she answered, turning around and looking at the phone as if preparing to call the hospital.



As he climbed the back steps, Spike couldn’t help himself from wondering if the Slayer’s knickers were red, too. And was it a bright red or a darker red…blood red even. Was it cotton and simple or maybe it had a bit of lace; or was it satiny smooth, something that would glide against—or maybe it was one of those purely lacey numbers, the ones that—

He really need to stop that line of thought. It wasn’t like he hadn’t imagined the Slayer in just her unmentionables before, but…now he knew for a fact that at least the top half was some color of red and….bloody hell, wasn’t his fault he couldn’t stop wondering just what exactly it looked like. It was entirely her fault he decided. Yes, her fault. Because, obviously, if she wasn’t so damn sexy and enchanting and enthralling and enticing and that other ‘e’ word he was not going to use, then he wouldn’t be having any of these thoughts.

But he’d been the one to ask, so this time, it was his fault. Fuck.


True to his word, Spike tried to find the Slayer the best clothes he could. Forgoing the jeans and stretchy pants he knew she sometimes trained in, he instead went for the drawstring ones he’d seen her wear around a few times. She might not have known it, but he was capable of thinking of things like the fact that while she’d been sick she’d lost quite a bit of weight and the others would have been too big on her. And that would have only embarrassed her in ways he hoped never to do.

He looked in her closet and drawers and finally found the smallest looking dark colored shirt he could; it turned out to be a light gray tank. Then he found the gray zip up sweater he’d seen her in more than once and carried his collection back down to the backyard after making one more stop.


Buffy looked up from as Spike came back outside and helped up a finger as she quickly finished her phone call, “Yes, thank you. We’ll be there soon.”

She’d half expected Spike to come out with some pair of leather pants, backless shirt, and no sweater. But he’d done as he said he would, he’d gotten her black pants and a gray shirt and sweatshirt.

“Thanks,” she said as she took the clothes from him. Then she noticed something sticking out of his duster pocket; it was her hairbrush, the one she kept with hair ties wrapped around the handle.

“Thought you might want to…Not that you need to,” he rushed to add, “Look bloody gorgeous I just thought you might…”

“No,” she assured him, it’d be nice to get my hair looking at least relatively tame—dirt and tree bark? Not so good for the hair.” Buffy went to set the clothes down so she could brush her hair, but Spike took them back from her.

Smiling at him gratefully, Buffy took the hairbrush out of his pocket before sitting back down and setting to work on her hair.

After brushing the knots out for about thirty seconds her movements started to slow and Spike made a choice, reaching up he grabbed the brush out her hands.

With the clothes sitting across his lap, he indicated for her to sit on the step in front of him, sighing when he saw she wasn’t going to comply.

“I can do things for myself you know,” she made a grab for the brush. “I’m not completely helpless.”

“Didn’t say you were, but taking your mum to the hospital, learning all that, and not getting any sleep can run you down. Just let me do it.”

Buffy knew that, for whatever reason, if he’d used her being sick as the reason that she wouldn’t have let him; but the reasons he gave made it sound as if she was just anybody, just another girl who wasn’t sick, and that she could agree with. She had a feeling he knew it too.

Moving down onto the step below, she sat between his legs, making sure no part of her touched any part of him. She probably wouldn’t ever tell him—at least not right now—but him brushing her hair felt really good; it was relaxing. And it felt nice to have someone else doing something for her and knowing that it was because they wanted to, not because they thought her incapable. Sure that might have been part of the reason, but she knew that any other day, if she had asked Spike to do the exact same thing, he would—and that made it alright.

She hadn’t put a lot of thought into why she’d gone to see Spike in the first place. It wasn’t that she was truly mad at him—okay, so maybe a little—but some part of her needed him to know what had happened. Needed to see how he’d help; because he would, help that is. He always did---at least lately. Now that she thought about it, of everyone, he and Dawn were the two who were taking the best care of her. Dawn was making sure to make dinner and act like nothing was wrong even while her mother and sister were in failing health and Spike…he’d been taking care of her friends for weeks now. And he’d let her know, with the bear, that he really was worried about her.

She knew her friends were worried about her, but sometimes—God help her—she wondered if they took this as just some weird Slayer thing that would sort itself out in time and everything would be fine again, no need to really worry.

Apparently if anything good was going to come out of the horribleness that had been her life lately, it was learning that Spike really did care about her—and her family. That…

Spike loved her. Maybe it was the fact that she had been thinking a lot about death lately, but suddenly it didn’t seem all that important anymore to live your life according to what other people felt was right, what they thought you should do.

If she…if she even gave Spike that ‘crumb’ he’d asked for, everyone would tell her she was crazy; they’d remind her how Spike was an evil vampire intent on destroying the world. Except, he wasn’t; even when he’d been at his evilest, Spike hadn’t wanted to destroy the world—he rather liked it.

They’d probably call Angel too, have him come tell her how she didn’t really know Spike and was making a monumental mistake and he’d left for her to have a normal life, why wasn’t she doing that?

“How long do you think it will take them to call Angel?” she asked as he finished brushing her hair and gave her a tie to do as she liked.

“What do you mean?” he leaned back slightly so he could see her better.

“Well I mean, I’m taking you to help me figure all this stuff with Mom out…how long do you think it will take one of them to call Angel and tell him you’ve done something evil? Because you do know they won’t think I decided it on my own, don’t you?”

“If we’re talking about the whelp…depends on how long it takes him to decide who he hates more: me or Peaches. Red might last a while longer, then again she cares about you a lot…Watcher’ll probably try everything in his Watcher bag of tricks first.”

“And Dawn?”

”Don’t think she ever will,” Spike answered carefully, not sure how much Buffy knew about his ‘friendship’ with her little sister.

“She did always hate him,” Buffy said and Spike tried not to let it bother him. “But she likes you,” Buffy added and just like that he was feeling better.

“If he does come though, think you could keep him from ripping up that bear?” He had no idea why, but the image was still bothering him.

“You think I’d let him kill Peter? And besides I don’t plan on him coming anyway.”

“Peter?” Spike asked quizzically.

“Yep,” Buffy turned so that she was kneeling on he step and facing Spike, “I was going to call him little Spike,” she whispered, “but Dawn looked at me all funny when I did and so…She wanted him to be Dracula bear, but I went with Peter instead.”

“Any reason?” he asked, still thrilled that something he’d done was capable of making her smile, even now.

“The bunny slippers. Peter Rabbit.”

“Works as well as anything else.”

“But that’s only as far as everyone else knows—he’s my Little Spike Bear really.”

Buffy turned back around before he had a chance to say anything and he missed the smile that she sported because of the shocked look he’d given her.

“So, how am I going to actually do this clothes changing?”

“Could do it somewhere in the hospital, I’m sure they have a place,” he kept his first suggestion to himself because she—

‘”Or your crypt maybe?” –was going to say it for him.

“I’ll stay outside even,” he agreed.

“What are we waiting for then? We’ve got a hospital to get to.”

Spike knew she was trying extra hard to sound upbeat, but at least she was trying—and not trying to get herself killed by some vampire. He handed her the clothes, then got up, set the hairbrush just inside the door, and locked it before coming back to her. Not giving her the choice, he hooked one arm under her knees and kept the other at her back, picking her up.

“You can’t keep carrying me everywhere,” she reprimanded him.

“Course I can. We both know that walking’s a stupid waste of energy; if you’ve got somebody willing to carry you why not take advantage of it?” Spike still was wondering just what had changed that she was so much more receptive to him now, but thought that questioning it might just cause it to end so he kept his mouth shut and just headed towards his crypt, the Slayer in his arms.



TBC.........please review


(if you want to leave your email in your reveiw or email it to me at suzeefic@gmail.com--or you could leave it on that LJ link too I guess--I'll try to either add you to my update list or just email you when I do update)





You must login (register) to review.