Sitting up, she took in the room that was to be her room for however long she chose. It was of medium size, maroon in color and had few furnishings. Her full bed was smack dab in the middle of two windows and under the one to her right was a nightstand that she’d shoved her undergarments in the night before and held a lamp and alarm clock. Across the room was a long bureau with a mirror attached and to the left in the corner was a closet. Next to the closet sat a blue papazan with gigantic white flowers. It was out of place in the room and Buffy gathered it had been banished to the guest room, not going along with the décor of the rest of the home. Kind of like her in her own life. How fitting.
The layout of the house had come back to her the night before when she’d relaxed enough to remember. The bottom floor was the living room, study, bathroom, kitchen and dining room. The top floor was her bedroom, Spike’s bedroom and a full bath. Climbing out of bed she stepped into the plush carpet and strained to hear for any sounds that Spike would be up. The smell of pancakes hit her instantly and humming in delight, Buffy scurried to the bathroom before heading down to greet Spike.
With freshly brushed hair and a washed face, she felt rested and ready to see what the day would bring. For once, she wasn’t scurrying about with planner and phone in hand. In fact, she’d switched off her phone the night before just after she’d left for Spike’s. It was probably under the seat by now. And her planner had been tossed in her backseat in her haste to get out of the stupid promotion for Angel’s stupid movie.
Growling slightly, Buffy entered the sunny white kitchen.
Spike looked up with brows raised from the skillet on the island in the middle of the kitchen, “Are you that hungry that you’re growling?”
“Thoughts of Angel infiltrated. Sorry.”
“No worries, kitten. How are you feeling?”
“I have not slept so well in so damn long. Thank you!”
Spike chuckled and flipped a cake, “You’re welcome. You certainly sound chipper.”
“Well, I feel free. No work, no stupid boyfriend, no worries, no stress, no running around like a chicken with its head cut off. No being around people that could really give a rat’s ass about me.”
“That’s right,” Spike agreed, nodding, flipping the pancake on a plate next to him. “You’re here with me and I care.”
Buffy melted. “Thank you.”
“It’s true pet. Three years apart doesn’t mean that I stopped caring. I reckon we’ve got a lot to re-learn about one another, but we have time, yeah?”
“Yes,” Buffy nodded, “Do you have orange juice?”
“I do, pour me some too?”
“Of course. Hey, where’s your phone book?”
“In the study on the desk. Who are you going to call?”
“Don’t worry about it!” she called as she bustled out of the room.
“Why do I feel like I should?” Spike muttered as he shut the skillet off and went to grab the neglected juice.
Settling back in Spike’s black swivel computer chair, Buffy drew her legs up to her chest as she rang Scissors, the place she used to go when she was younger to get her hair cut. Tugging on her golden locks, Buffy grimaced. The hair she’d put off cutting because Angel insisted she keep it long, the hair that inevitably got thrown back in a ponytail by midday and the hair that took what felt like a half a bottle of conditioner to get the knots out in the shower.
She was done with it.
“Just a cut?” the woman with the nasally voice asked on the other end.
Buffy chewed her bottom lip and contemplated that. “Uh, a color too, I think.”
“All right. See you in two hours.”
Buffy grinned and clicked the phone off. A whole new Buffy was coming soon.
Spike found it fishy that Buffy had stepped out to “take care of something” and he had half a mind to follow her and make sure she wasn’t doing any of the crazy shit she had been talking of doing the night before, such as skydiving. Buffy, he remembered, got something in her head and didn’t let it go. She was much like him in that case, but at least his ideas included keeping his feet on the ground. Unless of course he counted that LSD trip he took in high school. Buffy had scolded him for weeks after he showed up on her doorstep claiming The Grateful Dead bears were out to get him.
And, after she was done scolding him, she’d expressed that she was envious of him for having done it. She wanted to have, as she put it, “the balls to try that”. Spike assured her, she wasn’t missing much, knowing that as wound up tight as she could be, she’d have most likely a bad trip and he’d end up babysitting the whole time.
Not that he would have minded babysitting her. There was something quite appealing about being Buffy’s knight in shining armor. She was always on her girl power bit, the “hear me roar” kick, and once in a while, he would have liked if she leant on him a bit more. She was now though. Sort of. In her own Buffy way. Wanting him there, but still wanting to be independent. It was something he admired about her greatly, he had to admit. He’d come across a few in his day that would much rather lie down and let him make the decisions for them. Like Harmony Kendall, his ex, for one. The girl that he’d taken up with shortly after finding out Buffy had started dating Captain Forehead, his special name for Angel. The other special name being The Talentless Wonder.
Harmony had been an annoying twit. She was the poster girl for a wannabe fifties woman. All she wanted to do was marry him and bear his children. That had sent Spike running for the hills. As much as he wanted to settle down one day, he did not want a passive woman. He wanted one with some fire, a mind of her own, whose eyes flashed like Buffy’s when she was yelling or excited about something –
“Spike, look what I did!”
Buffy was back and sounding excited. Hell, what did she do… Getting up from his desk chair and away from the computer, he mentally braced himself for what he was about to see. He found her beaming at him, glowing, her cheeks pink, her lips spread into the widest smile he’d ever seen her wear and her hair.
He started. Her hair, her lovely long locks were shorn!
“Do you like?” she prompted, pointing to her hair.
“What did you do?” he asked hoarsely.
“I got it cut! I love it, don’t you love it?”
“But I liked your hair – did you put black in your hair?”
She giggled, “I did! I got that bleached blond look – no offense, Spikey—toned down to this golden color and then had them put in a few streaks of black. I love this new length. It’s long enough, just brushing my shoulders, but not too long.” She moved her head from side to side, causing her short bob to move and bounce. “See? Perfect. And even better? Different.”
Stepping closer to her, Spike inspected her new hairstyle. Reaching out, he fingered her locks, brushing his fingers through her hair. “So soft,” he murmured.
“So much healthier now,” she told him and started off. “So, I heard about this place you can do rock climbing. Wanna join me?”
“Buffy, I thought we talked about this keeping your feet on the ground thing. I was thinking more of something along the lines of visiting a few flea markets.”
“We can do that after; I want to go rock climbing. It’s not outside, not experienced for that. It’s at some gym. Come on, please?”
He stared at her, thinking if he glared at her hard enough, she’d change her mind. No such luck, she just smiled sweeter and got that flash of excitement in her eyes.
“All right, Buffy,” he said on a heavy sight. “Let me go change.”