Willow scanned the crowd waiting by baggage claim and did a double-take when she registered the Anya was the fourth person on the left. She was sporting her natural hair color again and was thin to the point of frailty. With a pang Willow remembered a call from Buffy. Anya hadn't had a period for two months and there was desperate hope that a little Xander might be on the horizon. Anya's spirits had briefly lifted, only to be crushed again when the doctor had informed her that it was stress and her drastic weight loss causing her to skip.
She felt Giles's warm hand on her shoulder. "Are you quite alright?"
She nodded. "I'm fine, really. Just nervous."
"Ah, there's Anya," Giles announced as the fragile woman approached.
"Welcome back," she greeted them with saccharine cheer. "When you have retrieved your luggage, I'll take you to your accommodations."
Willow listened with one ear as the two of them discussed Magic Box business. They loaded the car and continued their shop talk. A block of office buildings next door had been unoccupied for six months; a supplier was raising his prices, etc. Willow tuned them out and watched the houses slip by.
Once Giles had been deposited at the Sunnydale Arms, they were alone in the car. Willow realized she had no idea what to say to Anya. Why had she accepted the offer to stay at the apartment? Even her parents' house would be better.
Then Anya reached out and grabbed her hand. "I know you miss him too," she whispered, eyes firmly on the road.
Willow squeezed Anya's hand. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible.
"I've been packing up his things to take the Goodwill," Anya informed her. "But I thought you might want some of them."
"Thank you," Willow replied, a little wowed by the uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.
"Will you be okay by yourself for a while?" She handed Willow a key. "I need to do some things at the store before the meeting."
Willow nodded. When Anya had gone, she wandered carefully into the bedroom and gasped.
Anya had started packing his things. There was one empty box in front of his closet, another containing three sweatshirts. Inside the closet though, his khakis and flannels hung in neat rows. A pair of rumpled pajamas occupied a chair by the bed. A dusty, half-full glass of water sat on the bedside table.
How did Joyce do it, she wondered as she stripped hangers. She remembered watching Joyce and the robot load boxes into the SUV. The robot's cheerful announcement that Other Me's things were being given to the less fortunate.
Willow folded a shirt and put in the box. He wore that the last time we watched A Charlie Brown Christmas. He'll never wear it again. He wore this the night before his wedding. He'll never wear it again.
As the box filled up she remembered, not for the first time, the sight of Warren's spattered blood and dead eyes. But instead of the usual guilt or horror or sadness, Willow felt a warm rush of satisfaction.
---------
Buffy sat with Faith and Spike on the stack of mats, watching Giles coach Amanda. She was strong enough that when she landed a punch on his hand pads, he went stumbling backward. But her aim was off, probably more from nervousness than anything else.
Faith started bugging Spike for a cigarette and she ordered them both out into the alley if they were going to light up. No matter how much it pained her to see the two of them walking off all chummy.
She still wasn't sure where things stood with Spike. After helping him haul his boxes to the surprisingly nice little furnished apartment he'd rented, they had done a brief patrol. Over waffles at one of the all-nite places near campus, she'd tried in vain to get him to tell her more about the soul, his summer, or why he had moved into a basement apartment near UCS.
The level of frustration he was causing her was going a long way to convincing her he was still him. Which was just confusing enough to make sense in her world.
Faith and Spike didn't look any less friendly when they came back into the training room. But when Spike took his place next to her, Buffy felt his hand sneak up under the hem of her shirt to stroke the small of her back. She glanced up to see an uncharacteristically shy look on his face, instead of the leer she'd been expecting.
After their early hours breakfast, she had walked him home and resisted the urge to do more than kiss him once on the sidewalk before saying good-bye. With his fingers gently grazing her skin, it was really hard to remember why that had seemed like a good idea at the time. Nor could she recall exactly why she had been limiting their private time to a brief chat after patrolling with Faith, and sometimes Amanda, for the past two weeks.
Giles snapped her out of it by suggesting that Spike and Amanda spar. With a Nerf stake. Because Amanda might yet be clumsy, but she could still get lucky, especially with Spike pulling his punches. She remembered seeing him do this before, with her, the night she'd pumped him for information.
He was also taunting Amanda, who was clearly getting increasingly frustrated with her inability to get anywhere near his chest. "Oh, I'm getting the little slayer all mad. Observe my intense fear of your wrath."
Amanda glared at him. "I don't get mad." She hefted the fake stake. "I get stabby." With that she ducked under his swing and managed to punch the nerf rod against his breastbone.
"Good show, Amanda," Giles encouraged her. "Your average vampire won't have Spike's agility." He returned Spike's smirk at the compliment. "Of course the average vampire will also be hitting much harder."
"You did good," Buffy agreed. "And nice punning!"
Amanda flushed and plopped down by Faith on the mats. "I, uh, can't take credit for that. It's a Simpsons quote."
"You hungry?" Faith asked with a grin.
"Yes!" Amanda agreed heartily.
Faith popped her on the shoulder. "Come on, kid, let's get some grease in you. You guys wanna join us?"
"We're good," Buffy answered before she caught herself. "I mean, I'm good." It wasn't her place to speak for Spike, and if he wanted to hang out with Faith...
"You birds have fun," he told them and started stacking the mats he and Amanda had been fighting on.
"She's doing quite well," Giles announced when it was just the three of them. "And, Amanda's coming along nicely too."
Buffy pulled her eyes from the task of watching Spike's biceps as he heaved the mats around and tried to focus on Giles. "Have we figured out a way to find the others? Amanda saw us in a dream, but when she heard my name, she knew there was a Summers clan in town. What about girls in Buffalo or Paris?"
Giles shook his head. "We are working on it, Buffy. And I share your concerns."
Spike perched on the pommel horse. "What happens when you do find them? Send one of your tweedy crew to collect?"
"Boy, do I remember that experience." She shivered. "You Watchers really have the spooky cryptic thing down."
"You'd rather we be blunt and cheery about it?" Giles asked, only half-serious.
Buffy perked up. "Oh, my God! Giles, that's perfect!"
---------
Anya scanned her list. It has been a productive day.
Retrieve Willow and Giles from airport. check
Review quarterly numbers. check
Call accountant. check
Restock herbs. check
Cut payroll check for Dawn. check
Pay monthly bills. check
Be pleasant to Willow. check
Refrain from crying. check
She hadn’t gone to the Scooby meeting, but Willow had filled her in when she returned to the apartment. Giles wanted to speak to her, presumably about some business with the shop. She didn’t really like Giles poking around at things too much. She’d made sure the financials were in order, and he rarely seemed to care as long as he got his cut. They set a breakfast meeting before it was time to open for the day. Anya was glad she’d had the foresight to get the financials in order.
She and Willow had dinner and made idle conversation for a reasonable amount of time. When she was sure it wouldn’t be considered rude, she excused herself to prepare for bed.
Once she was in the bedroom though, she realized that Xander’s things were gone. She sank onto their bed and held his pillow tight against her chest. There wasn’t even any point in pretending it still smelled like him anymore. And why shouldn’t Willow pack up his things? Anya had invited her to sort through them. Xander was never going to need them again, after all. Xander would never wear those shirts, or drink that glass of water, put his pajamas in the hamper. Not ever.
She was going to have to uncheck that last one on the list.
---------
"Thank you for helping with Amanda." Buffy itched to take his hand. Or pretty much any part of him.
"Enjoyed it," Spike assured her as they walked along slowly.
She smiled at him. "You know, you'd be a good Watcher."
He sneered at that. "Well, when the new boys arrive next week, maybe I can ask for an application."
She glanced at the UCS clock tower as they passed it. "Next week I'll be back on campus again. Hopefully with fewer professors who actively want to destroy me this time."
Relief, among other things, rushed through her when he reached over and combed through her hair. "You be careful, Buffy."
At his building she followed him downstairs without discussion. When he unlocked the door he turned to ask, "Want to come in, then?"
"God yes," she breathed. They managed to make it over the threshold and get the door locked before they started working at each other's fastenings. "Missed you so much, you idiot," she hissed as he peeled her jeans down.
He seemed so much the same. The way he moved, the way he touched her; he had changed somehow but that was all wonderfully familiar. And he still loved her. That was still there in his eyes, along with the new. It was different, too, in the new apartment. Like the hotel room he'd rented that night of Xander's wedding. There was a bathtub -- she'd seen it when she helped him move. Maybe some night he'd let her chain him up in it for old time's sake.
When they were naked and twined on the quilt it suddenly became awkward. "What is it?" she asked quietly. Despite the privacy of the apartment, it seemed imperative to whisper.
He propped himself up on his elbows and she loosened her grip on his hips. “Never done this with a soul before.”
It was so weird to see Spike look bashful. It was also… kinda hot. “You…”
“Hadn’t married. Wasn’t the type to corner a scullery maid or visit Waterloo Road.”
She stroked his hair. “It works the same way. There are a number of helpful books or websites,” she teased.
With a groan he buried his face in her neck and snuffed against her pulse. “Thanks ever so, pet. Know that. Know just how you’re going to feel around me, all hot and tight. Could never forget how it feels to be inside you. But… feels new at the same time.”
Buffy tugged his head up so he could face her. His confession was making her warm all over. “Really not seeing the bad here.” She reached a hand between them and guided him in, watching his face the whole time. The look on his face as he thrust up into her was the same as that first time in his crypt. He stopped breathing for a moment and then gulped for unneeded air.
Then he began to move. Buffy moved with him, ankles crossed over his back. His hands covered hers and spread her arms up over his head. “You remember,” she gasped. “You definitely remember.” His warm laugh was almost as thrilling as the feel of him filling her, stroking in and out. It was hard to stay focused on his face, but she wanted to hold his eyes. Wanted to watch him watching her .
After all they were really both Watchers now.
Hours later they made it under the quilt, spooned together in a way she’d once balked at even considering. “Wanted to verify to my satisfaction that I remembered everything,” he whispered into her shoulder.
Buffy laughed and smacked the arm that was draped over her body. “Well, mission accomplished. And it was, you know, to my satisfaction too, in case you couldn’t tell,” she assured him. Her fingers trailed up and down his arm. “I’m really glad you’re back.” She was tired but her mind was still buzzing. “Will you do something for me?”
“Even vampires have their limits, love.”
If she already decided he was still her Spike that might have clenched it. “Tell me about William. And I want to truth this time. None of this crap about a pickpocket with artistic tendencies either.”
He was so tense by the time he’d finished his story she was almost afraid to move for fear he might crack. “Go on then.”
“Go on what?” The tension seeped out of him. She rolled on to her back and gave him a fond smile. Stupid vampire. She’d managed to compartmentalize the fact that he’d slaughtered thousands, and he was still afraid she’d reject him for being… a sad momma’s boy gentleman who wrote truly terrible poetry? “Spike, can I stay here tonight?”
Apparently Spike wasn’t quite as limited as he’d thought.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Author’s Note: As always, thanks to Kar for the beta job and to my readers for reviews and encouragement. We are now past the events of the Borrowed Time epilogue and the plot is moving forward. Feedback is cherished.