She was more than glad of the long-lasting potency of Slayer’s blood as it made packing up Spike’s things a whole lot easier, with him to help. Her mother was packing up her meagre belongings in the room next door as she hurriedly emptied the drawers, throwing the clothes into the large bag her mother had brought. Spike was adding to it almost absentmindedly, taking a long time over every object he found. Probably lost in his memories. She couldn’t stop though or she would break down. She needed something to keep her hands and her brain busy, to keep her from thinking about the events of this evening.
Her hands were trembling and she tried to still them by holding an open drawer tightly, flexing her fingers – and biting into the wood with a snap. In a second, Spike was at her side, watching her with wary eyes.
“Slayer? Buffy?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered shakily, unable to meet his eyes.
His hands came to cover hers and he gently pried them away from the drawer, turning them over and inspecting them. Trembling as she fought to hold back her tears, she could only watch numbly as he smoothed his thumbs over her palms.
“Just lucky you didn’t get any splinters.”
She nodded and when he released her hands, she pulled them back quickly, folding her arms and hiding them.
“Buffy,” he murmured, worried eyes meeting hers hesitantly, “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly, “I need to get out of this place.”
He was silent for a pause but then he took a step towards her, forcing her gaze to his with a touch at her shoulder.
“He’ll be back.”
“Even more reason to be gone,” she said firmly, raising her chin defiantly.
He looked like he wanted to say something but with a slight sigh, he moved away again, shaking his head to himself. She forced her attention back to her task.
“Buffy?” her mother called out.
“Almost done!”
She shoved the last of his clothes into the bag and went to the chair where his long black duster was draped. She folded it carefully and went to put it on top of the bag but he stopped her.
“No!”
She raised her eyes to him in surprise – she couldn’t remember ever seeing Spike without this coat.
“Are you sure-“
“I don’t want it,” he snapped, “Leave it.”
Slightly shocked by his outburst, she picked up the coat again and laid it down on the chair. He spoke up the next moment, voice soft and repentant.
“I’m sorry, pet. It’s just… that coat…”
“It’s okay,” she murmured, turning back to him with a slight smile, “I get it. Shall we go?”
She was even more grateful for the Slayer blood’s properties as they made their way across town to her house. She wasn’t sure how they would have managed this had he been in his usual state. His being lucid made it so much easier to get him settled into the spare room.
Yet, despite the Slayer blood, his dreams were still poisoned with bad memories and she found herself going to him in the night. It was so strange to see Spike, her former nemesis, curled up in the spare bed but she shook it off, sitting on the bed beside him and stroking his hair gently. Almost as soon as she touched him, he lashed out and grabbed her hand, golden eyes flying open.
“It’s okay, it’s me,” she said softly, laying her hand over his where he gripped her wrist.
He relaxed almost instantly, pushing himself into a sitting position, pushing his hair back from his face.
“Sorry. Didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No,” she admitted, “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”
She saw his frown and he reached out and just touched her arm.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it,” he murmured and her eyes flew to his in surprise. It took her a long moment to recover but finally, she found her voice again.
“Why are you defending him?” she asked shakily.
“I don’t rightly know,” he answered with a half-smile, “’Spect it’s ‘coz I can imagine how bad he’s feeling right now ‘bout hurting the woman he loves.”
Her eyes fell to the bedspread between them, her hands twisting in the covers nervously.
“I’m not sure he does…” she whispered hesitantly, raising her eyes to his, “Love me, I mean.”
“Just let his anger get the best of him but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. Even when he was prancing round as Angelus he was obsessed with you.”
And that was a memory she really didn’t need reminding of now. She got to her feet quickly and made her way to the door.
“I should let you sleep,” she got out, unable to meet his eyes.
“Buffy,” he called softly as she paused at the door, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“
“It’s fine. I know what he was like… I just… I’m not sure I know what he’s like now. He’s… Things are different.”
She wasn’t sure what was bringing her to say these things now, to Spike of all people, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself. Maybe knowing he would be out of it and likely forget the conversation the next morning was also prompting her.
“’Course they are,” he answered softly, “But what else did you expect? Can’t just go from hating each other one minute to loving each other again the next, can you?”
She shook her head, twisting the doorknob in her hand, eyes on the floor.
“I guess not.”
“Can’t just forget it happened.”
“Not even a little bit?” she asked with a sad smile, daring to meet his eyes.
“Wish that was possible, love. But in the real world, you have to face up to what you’ve done, what’s happened.”
She paused and then raised pained eyes to his, confusion in their depths as she met his understanding gaze.
“I’m not… I don’t think I’m… in love with him anymore. I mean, sometimes I am and then… sometimes I’m not.”
“’Coz of what happened earlier?”
“It’s more than that. Things have been weird ever since… and some of the things he’s said… I don’t know.”
She sighed and rested her head against the door.
“Could things get any more confusing?” she said sadly.
“You’ll work it out, love.”
She nodded and gave him a weak smile.
“I guess I really should let you get back to sleep,” she murmured, “Try and get some sleep myself.”
“Stop worrying too much for a start. Not much you can do tonight and thinking yourself to a headache isn’t going to help.”
She gave a short laugh and smiled at him warmly.
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Figure I owe you, Slayer,” he replied quietly, slanting that shy look at her again.
“You don’t owe me anything, Spike,” she said honestly, “You really don’t.”
He gave her a slight smile and with a smile of her own, she opened the door.
“Oh, and Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“How much longer do you think the, err, Slayer blood will last?”
“Couldn’t rightly say,” he murmured, “We’ll see, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They shared a smile and she finally turned to the door.
“Night, Spike.”
“Night, Buffy. Sleep well.”
If Spike wishing her a good night’s sleep seemed strange, she did not let it show as she closed the door behind her and made her way to her own room.
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