“Buffy, I can make a glam-”
“Shhh.”
“But-”
“Willow… please, my head. Not so loud,” Buffy muttered from where she had her face buried in her arms as she slumped against Giles’ little breakfast bar.
“I was whispering, Miss Liquor is Quicker,” Willow groused, picking at the breakfast plate, her eggs and toast growing cold.
“What I wanna know is,” the petite blonde asked in a scratchy voice. “How come you don’t have a hang-over?”
“Oh! Well, when I went home I ate some cereal, drank about a gallon of water and said a few words to clear my head. Poof! I’m all better!” she said cheerily - too cheerily.
“I hate you,” she mumbled and took a sip of her now tepid coffee. She blanched at the taste and groaned in misery. “Can you make mine go away?”
Willow looked at her over the rim of her cup and grimaced. “I thought you didn’t want me to use magic on you?”
“I’m in desperation here… I’d even let you turn me into a newt if it would make my head stop pounding and my stomach stop feeling like I’m on a Tilt-A-Whirl,” she pleaded.
“Don’t even think it, Red,” Spike admonished as he slipped down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“I hate you, too,” Buffy huffed as she buried her head deeper. “Just tell professor Turnipseed I can’t make my presentation today, he’ll have to understand. I just can’t concentrate.”
A snort of amusement escaped from Spike as he shoved a mug of blood into the microwave and waited for it to warm. “What kind of name is Turnipseed? Too bloody poncey if you ask me.”
“He looks Swedish. Big, stocky, blondish-brown hair, big gap between his front teeth,” Willow offered as she drank her tea.
“Yup, a ponce,” Spike confirmed.
“And why are you so annoyingly cheerful this morning? You drank more than any of us!” she complained.
“Vampire constitution, luv. If you want, I can help you in that department… give you an edge in future drinking adventures,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at the girls.
Willow giggled as Buffy rolled her eyes. “Hardly. Vampire kisses are of the big NO,” she sneered.
Feeling a slight sting from her comment, Spike struck back, knowing that to keep her from living in denial irritated her like nothing else. That’s not what you were saying or doing last night, pet, he directed his thought to the now blushing girl.
“That was a fluke! I was drunk!” she defended herself, her voice cracking.
“Am I missing something?” Willow asked, confused by the hidden banter.
Didn’t feel that way to me. You seemed right chuffed that I returned alive after I left the Bronze. He didn’t know who he was more upset with – her for refusing to acknowledge that something happened between them, or himself for trying to convince his heart that maybe he was worth something. Leaning against the kitchen archway, warm mug of blood in hand, he scowled at her.
“I loathe you,” she hissed menacingly.
“Guys?” Willow interjected.
“`S okay, Red. Slayer’s got her knickers in a bunch. She’s in a right snit that we can read each other’s thoughts.” Willow frowned at his statement.
“No, what has me in a snit is the fact I have to baby-sit a worthless vamp that has this amazing ability to screw up my life while barely lifting a sexy eyebrow,” she huffed, and then groaned at her own words. “See? It’s a conspiracy, I tell you! I can’t even argue without some random feeling making itself known.” Dumping her cold coffee in the sink she headed towards the door. “I need to go back to the dorm, get a shower and get my stuff ready.” She turned a frosty glance towards Spike. “I’ll meet you back here, okay?”
He smirked and started whistling a clearly Egyptian tune, watching her fume as she walked out, the door slamming in her wake.
Willow sighed. “Why do you do that to her? It only makes her angry with you.”
“Yeah, well… she’s not my cuppa either,” he lied. Needing to keep busy so he wouldn’t think about her, he picked up the breakfast plates and started to wash the dishes.
The redheaded witch looked askance at him, at the incongruency of Spike in Giles’ kitchen, doing the dishes and having normal conversations. She sensed something was off about the normally exuberant vampire, other than being chipped, and if he and Buffy could read each other’s thoughts then he must be on edge at the very least. And how in the world could that have happened? Watching him dip his hands in the soapy water, she noticed they trembled, whether from lack of blood or too many firings of the chip she had no clue, but it tugged at her heart.
“What’s up?” she asked hesitantly
“The sky, Red… you should know that, being so bloody brilliant,” he retorted with a strained smile.
She chuckled. “Cute, but you know what I mean. I heard Buffy talking, er, growling to Giles this morning before he left that he needed to ease up with the book-smackage,” she admitted, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “What’s going on, other than the chip going all wacky?
Spike weighed his options. If he let the Scoobies in on what was happening would they help him or exploit him, as he feared Giles was on the verge of doing? He looked into Willow’s earnest eyes and decided he could at least trust her… a little.
“Took a few knocks up side the head just after I got this shockin’ reminder of what it means to be on the receivin’ end of a cattle prod. Blacked out for a few seconds and wake up spouting the whole of history like some damn Encyclopedia Britannica,” he said, starting to dry the dishes he’d just washed.
The scientist in her revved into full gear. “Does it do that if you don’t get hit in the head?”
“Get a twinge every now and then… but it takes a good crack against the noggin to jump-start it. Lasts about an hour or two… gets longer each time it happens,” he answered quietly.
“And Giles? He knows this, right?”
“Yeah, bugger knows it,” he snarled, gripping the plate he’d been drying so hard he heard it crack. “Fuck!” He flung the dish against the opposite wall and watched it smash into several pieces.
Silence hung in the air between the two, Spike panting heavily from anger and Willow watching the miserable vamp trying desperately to get a grip. He finally crossed his arms over his chest in a self-protective stance and glanced over at her. “In exchange for blood and shelter, I let him wack me a couple times with a book or some such and he gets his information,” he admitted in a whisper.
Covering her mouth with her fingers, Willow’s eyes teared up at his admission of Giles abusing the defenseless vampire. What could she say that would justify the librarian’s treatment? Not much, if anything and she didn’t think to question it, finally realizing that Spike never really lied. He only omitted facts, which yeah, in a way it was lying, but his heart was on his sleeve if anyone ever bothered to look. With Spike, there was no pretense as he was always blunt and to the point, hating to waste time with niceties.
Blowing out a heavy sigh, the blond vamp bent low to start picking up the shattered remains of the broken plate. He startled for a moment when the redhead squat down to help him.
“You look tired,” she observed gravely.
Moving away from her, he shrugged off her concern. “Nothin’ to be done, Red. Leave it be.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Spike wasn’t staying with her and Buffy at the dorm, and she knew Xander was busy with Anya and wouldn’t welcome a roommate that watched them do the horizontal tango all night long. He could find his own place, she supposed, but then the demon community might take advantage of a defenseless vamp and that would be the last they’d hear of him. No, Giles seemed to be the best option at this point, although she’d have to agree with Buffy that the book-smackage needed to stop.
As he threw the shards in the trash, she asked with caution, “Where is Giles by the way?”
“Said he was drivin’ to L.A. to pick someone up at the airport, some bird he knows,” he muttered, moving to sit on the couch with his mug of blood, a far-away look on his face.
The strain around his eyes was telling. A sudden idea popped into her head, and she wondered if it worked, would Giles would lay off the punching. “Can I try something, Spike?” she asked hesitantly.
“Not lettin’ you rap me on the skull. Like you and all, but I’m bloody tired,” he warned in a low voice.
“No! I won’t do that, I promise,” she quickly assured him. “I just want to see if it works without you getting slapped about.”
He eyed her in a dubious manner. “How you plan on doin’ that?”
“I could pick a subject and you answer questions about it,” she proposed.
“Sure, Red, go ahead then.”
“Let’s try… world studies. What is the world’s oldest city?”
“Byblos, Lebanon. It was founded around five thousand B.C. Tel Aviv, Israel, founded in nineteen-o-nine, is the world’s youngest major city,” he answered without batting an eyelash.
“Oh, this is so cool!” she stated in a giddy voice.
He smiled despite himself at her excitement. “Glad to oblige… least you’re gentle about it.”
Her giddiness immediately fled as she sobered. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
A feeling of empathy washed over him and he had to clear his throat. “Thanks, Red… means a lot. So continue.”
“Umm, what city has the most bridges?”
“Hamburg, Germany. It has more than twenty-three hundred.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of bridges!”
“Haven’t seen `em all, but dropped a couple bodies off a few… erm, yeah, that’s another story,” he ended with a feigned smile. It wouldn’t do well to remind a Scooby why he was considered dangerous, no matter if he was neutered.
Ignoring his stumble, she began warming to her subject. “What major world city is the highest in elevation?”
“That would be the lovely Potosi, Bolivia at an elevation of thirteen-thousand feet. Dru and me got stuck there for a bit, the high altitude played havoc with human lungs but it didn’t bother us none,” he said with a chuckle, revealing a little of his life before to her.
“I can imagine,” she said. “What’s the most expensive country to live in?
“Japan.”
“Wow! You’re really good at this!” she beamed with a grin.
Nodding his head in thanks, he went on. “One percent of Greenland’s entire population lives in a single flat building named Blok P.”
“That’s either a small population or a really big complex,” she surmised with widened eyes.
“A bit of both, probably. More airline luggage is lost in Egypt than in any other country.”
“Remind me never to go there.”
“Better than China, luv… leading cause of death there is respiratory disease.”
“Good thing I don’t have asthma!”
“Well, you could visit the world’s highest waterfall in beautiful Venezuela. Angel Falls is about three-thousand, two-hundred eighty-one feet from top to base.”
“No high-diving there.”
“You’d probably die before you hit the bottom, pet. Lots of jagged outcroppings along the way.”
“I was never very good at swimming anyways,” she said, blanching at the image he created.
“On the island of Cyprus, the archbishop is the only person allowed to write with purple ink,” he continued, draining the last of his blood from his cup.
“Huh, I guess he must be someone important. Purple is usually reserved for royalty in most cultures.”
“Can’t say, Red. Andorra has the world’s lowest unemployment rate – zero percent – and the highest life expectancy of about eighty-three point forty-eight years.”
“I’m sold. I think we should all move there,” she giggled. “So, anything else?”
“Sure. When a Sumo wrestler retires, his topknot, or his hair, is removed in a special ceremony,” he reported, trying to think of things that he’d come across in his travels.
“Ewww, sweaty-fat-guys,” she said, scrunching up her nose.
He smiled at her adorable face. She seemed to be taking the split with her beau a lot better than before and he hoped it continued because he liked talking with her. It came naturally with Willow as she appealed to the scholar deep inside William, so he didn’t knock it. It wasn’t like conversations with Buffy, where he was always on his guard, worrying if he’d push her to the point of another broken nose. He idly speculated what a chat with Xander would be like now, glancing at the clock and wondering where the Slayer was given that an hour or so had gone by since she’d left. Oh well, it was her project she’d be late for, not his.
On the verge of asking Willow if Xander and Anya had made it home all right last night, the question died on his lips as Buffy returned, slamming the door to announce her presence. As if he could forget. He watched her grimace at the sound, knowing she still had a bit of a headache from all the alcohol she’d imbibed, but her next words took them both completely by surprise.
“Sorry about earlier,” she murmured, sitting next to Spike on the couch. She was clutching something in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Highly curious, but cautious, he quietly accepted her apology. “`S okay, Slayer. Hangovers do that to you.”
Her best friend agreed. “Yeah, it’s okay. No more mixing Buffy with the drinks. A world of no.”
Buffy smiled hesitantly and then looked at Spike. “I know I never told you, being all Linda Blair with the puking last night, but thanks… thanks for taking care of me.”
One could hear a pin drop she’d said it so simply, as if it were an everyday occurrence to thank the vamp. Feeling he must have heard wrong, he asked for clarification. “Exactly how did I take care of you, Slayer?”
Tightening her grip on whatever was in her hand, she puffed a breath to move her hair away from her eyes. “For not taking advantage of me in my, um, delicate condition. And for holding my head so I wouldn’t miss the trashcan.”
Truth be told, he wanted to take advantage of her last night, just not in the way she was talking about. Instead, he nodded mutely and moved away from her to the kitchen, away from her tempting presence. He didn’t see the crest-fallen look when he left, but Willow did, and a pervasive silence seemed to drape over the trio, tense and frustrating.
Needing to break the stillness, the redhead once again tried to offer her earlier suggestion. “Buffy, I could make a glamour for Spike… you know, like to keep him hidden from prying eyes.” She hadn’t told her friend about Riley yet; figuring now was not the best time to tell her the guy she’d been exchanging hot glances with was part of the unpopular Commandos.
“Makes sense… what do you think, Spike?” Buffy asked. “I mean, I have a hooded sweatshirt for you, but with that white hair of yours you’ll still be noticeable. If these guys are still looking for you, they’ll spot you for sure.”
The vamp stared at her. She was asking him what he thought? Looking towards the ceiling, he waited for a piece of the sky to fall on him, but then frowned, wondering about a certain quirk in her plan. “Still tryin’ to suss out how you’re gonna accomplish gettin’ me from here to your classroom for this little project.”
Biting her lip near to the point of drawing blood, she indicated the coffee table in front of her, asking him to sit with which he complied. Sighing heavily, she reached for his hand, but he pulled away, unsure of her mood.
“Please?” she asked softly. “I won’t hurt you.”
Lips thinning, he reluctantly gave her his hand. Her temper went back and forth like a damn Viking boat and he didn’t feel like having another migraine, so he remained passive until she laid her clenched fist into his open palm.
Wetting her lips, she spoke quietly but quickly, trepidation lacing her words. “Oz gave this back to me before he left. I-I was going to give it to Angel, but I guess Oz figured I’d need it at some point. He had a lot of foresight. I’m giving it back to you, but I want a promise that you’ll only use it to help us. Otherwise, you’ll wish I’d given it to Angel, `cause there won’t be enough of you left to suck into a dust buster.”
What the Hell did she have? And did she have to mention the Great Poof? He noticed Willow tense when Buffy mentioned Oz’s name, seeing that while she tried to be optimistic about his departure, it still hurt the girl deeply. His fingers gently wrapped around her wrist, feeling her tremble with indecision. Then, she unclenched her fist and dropped the item into his palm, now warm from her nearness.
Spike looked down. Whatever snarky comment was on his lips died as he stared. Emotions overwhelmed him as he studied the object, arriving at the conclusion that yes, it was what he suspected it to be. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Willow nod silently in approval of her friend’s decision. He in turn looked at the blonde girl sitting in front of him, trusting him to do the right thing.
Smiling hesitantly, she shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not like he’s here trying to save me from failing Government,” she half kidded.
In his palm lay the Gem of Amara.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry it's taking so long to get these chapters posted, but I am really under the weather (bronchitis is such a pain...literally) and it kinda ruined my Christmas celebrations. BUT, that's no excuse I know. Thanks to Zoe for sending Sotia my way, she's a doll! **Any and all facts come from the series "Uncle John's Bathroom Reader" which is full of trivial knowledge!**