On With the Show
Buffy was in shock. It all happened too quickly. Her tears refused to stop. She didn’t hear Anya yelling at her. All she could hear was her heart breaking. It wasn’t until Anya grabbed her and shook her shoulders that Buffy registered her shouted words.
“Your tears! Your tears are the cure, Buffy. Hurry! Hurry,” the ex-demon begged loudly.
Buffy didn’t ask any questions, she just leaned over the unconscious man and wept. Her tears drenched him, and as she cried, she prayed.
~~~~~~~
“How long?” Buffy asked for the tenth time, her voice roughened from crying. Anya had tried to explain what had happened, but Buffy was having none of it. She would listen to nothing until they knew one way or the other if it had been successful. She didn’t need explanations for failure, she just wanted Spike to wake up. Then and only then would she willingly listen to any and all information they wanted to give her.
“Four hours,” Willow quietly replied. They had all joined Buffy in her silent vigil over the demon that had clearly captured her heart. Her hands shook from fatigue as lifted one to rub the back of her neck.
Like a repetitive record, Buffy once again told them in an emotionless voice that they didn’t need to stay if they had other things to do. Once again they all assured her that they wanted to stay. They wanted to be there, not only for Buffy, but for Spike too.
And the silence returned.
~~~~~~~
Buffy stretched and snuggled more deeply into her warm cocoon, keeping her eye’s firmly shut all the while. Leather surrounded her and the strong scent of cigarettes and alcohol with an earthy undertone tempted her senses. It felt and smelt like Spike.
Wait a minute.
Buffy was afraid to open her eyes. She used her senses to get a better idea of her situation. The leather she felt was his duster. The Spike-scent that permeated her surroundings was clearly coming from that. She felt no arms embracing her, but she was obviously on the couch. So she was covered with his duster, laying on what had basically been his bed for the last couple of days, but he wasn’t there.
‘Oh God,’ she silently begged ‘don’t let him be gone’.
“Does she do that a lot?” Anya asked, curious.
“What? You mean the whole if-I-keep-my-eyes-closed-it-will-all-just-go-away thing she’s doing?” Willow responded, amused. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Why?” Tara thought it was probably the cutest and yet strangest thing she’d ever seen.
“Spike. She hasn’t worked out where he is yet,” Willow offered her opinion based on her wealth of Buffy knowledge.
“But everyone except Spike is in here, and the shower is clearly audible so where else…Good heavens! I didn’t know slayers moved that fast.” Anya grinned as she watched her friend fly towards the bathroom.
~~~~~~~
Spike felt the water cascade over him, symbolically washing away his sins. He could no longer separate his demon from his inner William. For the first time since his turning he was truly balanced and felt no need to keep up the façade that he’d developed over the decades.
He felt reborn, revitalised, and warm for the first time in over a hundred years. His heart was beating, pumping his blood strongly through his veins, but the strength and speed of his demon were fused to him. His senses remained as enhanced as they’d previously been. The main difference was that even though he was still capable of going into game-face, the thought of ingesting blood disgusted him. Okay, maybe disgust was too strong a word because he really wanted the blood play that came with a true claiming and that of course required a little partaking of blood. Other than that, no thank you.
He had to smile to himself when he remembered waking up earlier. Almost every one of his fears had been addressed. Almost. There was still Buffy.
He chuckled softly when he thought about the golden goddess of his dreams. She’d been so sweet and kittenish when he moved her. He’d had to do something when he saw how bloody uncomfortable she had looked curled up on the floor. Putting her in his place on the couch without waking her had been relatively easy and she’d snuggled right into his duster when he placed it over her.
He had moved as quietly as he could from the living room into the small kitchenette, not wanting to wake the group of sleeping people. He knew Rupert would be the first to wake and started the tea brewing, knowing the older man would enjoy it. It hadn’t taken long for the retired librarian to join him. In a perfect example or British reserve, both men held there emotions and shook hands in greeting. The slight shaking of both men was the only indication of the emotional impact the meeting had on both of them. A family reunited.
Willow and Tara had joined them and Spike had been shocked and touched when the little redhead hugged him and whispered that she was sorry he’d had to go through the illness, but was glad of the outcome. He’d told her that he was too. Tara had been re-introduced to him and her sweet and nurturing nature had come to the fore when she insisted he add some herbs to his tea to ensure his continued health.
When Anya had quietly stepped into the room, she was crying. She had been so overjoyed to see him up and about. His presence made her feel not so alone in the once-were-a-minion-of-evil club. Turning human after so long as a demon could be daunting unless you had someone to share it with. She had hoped they could help each other.
As Spike washed his hair, he finally allowed his thoughts to return to Buffy. Here in the relative safety of the bathroom, he could admit his fear. He felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes. What if she didn’t want him? What if it had all just been empty platitudes? How would he live without her and did he even want to?
Spike was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the bathroom door inch open, so when the voice that filled his waking dreams spoke, he almost slipped and landed on his arse in shock.
“I’m not peeking,” her voice assured him. “But can you stick your head out so I can see you with my own eyes? I really need to see you, Spike.” Her voice shook with the depth of her emotions.
He felt frozen in place, his fears overwhelming him. Reaching a shaky hand to the tap, he turned the shower off.
Time seemed to stop for a moment. Both of them were so scared. They could face demons by the truckloads, but heartbreak could destroy them both.
“Can you pass me a towel, please,” he asked as he tried to come to terms with the new sensation of a racing heart.
Buffy felt her heart clutched and squeezed tightly as if in a vice grip. She continued to function in automation handing the man in the shower the requested towel.
She’d thought by the reactions of her friends that Spike was fully recovered. But that request had not come from her Spike. She allowed her tears to flow freely as she mourned her loss, deaf, dumb and blind to her surroundings.
When Spike pulled back the shower curtain he was confronted with the sight of the woman of his dreams projecting a picture of misery, her tears streaming down her face. Forgetting that he was only wearing a towel, Spike rushed to climb out of the bath and pull the weeping slayer into his arms. “Luv? What is it? Please, Buffy, I can’t bear to see you cry.”
Buffy froze within his embrace. Her eye’s narrowed dangerously. That had sounded suspiciously like her Spike. Not William. Spike.
“Spike?” her voice was muffled by his naked chest.
“What is it, Kitten?”
“YOU IDIOT!” she yelled as she shot out of his arms, slapping his chest repeatedly as she continued to assault him with both hands and words. “Don’t you ever do that to me again! I thought you were dead, you big stupid…”
Spike halted her rant the only way he knew how.
Grabbing her upper arms, he pulled her to him, his lips silencing her words. Her ineffectual beating on his chest slowed then stopped and her arms snaked up to encircle his neck. Spike gentled the kiss in response to her hesitant exploration of the hair on the nape of his neck. Lightly caressing her bottom lip with his tongue, he silently requested entrance. She parted her lips in supplication and melted further into his embrace.
“I’d really prefer that you didn’t do that in there,” Giles’ amused voice drifted through the door. “There are those of us that still need to use that room.”
Slowly separating their lips, adding a few last minute nibbles, two foreheads met and both sighed with contentment.
~~~~~~~
“Can you tell us the poem again please, Anya,” Buffy asked once Anya had completed filling them all in.
Discovering that the explanation for the poem was in one of the books that Anya had purchased had been a gift from the Powers as far as Anya was concerned. When she thought about what could have happened had she ignored her intuition, she shuddered. “If the Bringer of Death on the demon shall weep, healing begins while the fading one sleeps. Take heed that rare do these precious tears fall, for death never loves the ones on which she calls.”
“So Buffy’s the ‘Bringer of Death’?” Spike asked, not really sure if he was getting it right.
“Seriously not loving that little l'homme de plume!” Buffy huffed.
“The man of letters? There’s a degree for slaying?” Anya asked blankly. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever understand these humans.
“She means nom de plume,” Spike chuckled as he explained to the ex-demon. Turning to Buffy, he flashed a cheeky grin. “We’ve talked about your French, pet. And while I’m all for you butchering the bloody frogs’ language, it might make actual communication a bit problematic.”
Giggling girlishly she responded, “shut up, Spike.”
“Yes, Spike. Buffy is known to several species of demon as the ‘Bringer of Death’. The cure required the tears of a slayer, but not just any slayer. What makes the cure so rare is that the slayer in question must be in love with the injured demon,” Giles explained.
“How did you get ‘round that then, Rupes?” Spike asked with genuine curiosity.
With the exception of Buffy everyone there looked him as if he had completely lost his mind. Buffy, the oblivious Vampire Slayer mirrored his curiosity.
Spike looked from face to face; awe dawning on his features after going through the gamut of other emotions. Turning to his slayer he failed to notice her expression. “You love me?” he whispered, almost accusingly.
“Huh?”
Turning to Giles and then Willow, she was shocked to see them both nodding affirmatively. “You knew this?” she squeaked. When they grinned and nodded again, clearly thinking the entire situation was extremely funny, she made her displeasure known. “Why didn’t you tell me? I should know this. This is one of those important things that the slayer should know.”
Grinning widely, Spike captured the slayer in his arms. “Shut up, slayer,” he said as he brought his lips down on hers.
Fin