The sound of Spike’s laughter mirrored her every stride across Restfield cemetery. With aching muscles, and a goofy grin plastered across her face, Buffy walked into the early morning light, safe in the knowledge that her lover was watching from the shadows beyond the crypt door. With each trudging step, she could feel Spike’s penetrating gaze upon her, and the urge to run back into the sanctuary of his arms was overwhelming. Nonetheless, Buffy held firm, willing her feet to move, and refusing to glance over her shoulder. Knowing that if she did—if she gave in to the raging passion burning through her veins—she wouldn’t see the outside of Spike’s bedroom for the foreseeable future.
Admittedly, there were worse ways to spend a day than writhing around in the heady throes of a multiple orgasm, but if Buffy’s slight limp could attest to anything; it was that there could indeed be too much of a good thing. There was a newfound buoyancy in her heart, where previously, it had been weighed down by fear and self-inflicted restraints, and as the sun warmed her upturned face, Buffy’s thoughts were centred on the remarkable vampire she’d left behind. They’d parted with a lingering kiss and ardent declarations of love, and the Slayer found that with each repetition of those three simple words, another piece of her cumbersome armour fell by the wayside.
Neither wished to be separated for long, but similarly, both recognised that Dawn wouldn’t allow them to hide away forever... hence, the movie and pizza-fest scheduled at the Summers’ residence for later that evening. Spike had grumbled about bloody awful chick flicks, and threatened that if he heard the opening strains of Celine Dion, he’d be heading back to the crypt and his Passions tape. Buffy had merely grinned at his manly posturing, knowing for a fact, that he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
The idea of a regular night in front of the television, featuring a slayer, a vampire and a mystical key was almost laughable, and Buffy was still smiling as she crossed the lawn and approached her porch. Unfortunately, reality had an irritating habit of intruding on her daydreams, and Buffy was wrenched from her thoughts when her slayer senses kicked in, and she belatedly noticed the figure sat on the top step.
Defiant, Buffy stood firm and folded her arms as Xander skimmed his eyes over the familiar black t-shirt and healing bite mark that adorned her body. His hands were clasped around his knees, and Buffy couldn’t miss the obvious disapproval on his features. Nevertheless, he’d made the effort to come here, to reach out to her, and Buffy bit back a remark, deciding the least she could do was hear her friend out.
Several awkward seconds ticked by until Xander reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a hand-whittled stake with what appeared to be a small cloth tied around the tip, and Buffy frowned, feeling like she’d just entered the Twilight Zone. “What’s that supposed to be?” she asked, as her mind fought to reconcile the pre-school weirdness of Xander’s offering, with his clearly uncomfortable demeanour.
“It’s a white flag,” he replied. And with a hangdog expression, Xander waved his craftwork in the air. “I come in peace.”
One eyebrow arched in disbelief, Buffy took a hesitant step forward. “Really?”
“Yeah...” Xander’s fist clenched around the stake. “Really.” He exhaled a shaky breath as his lips quirked into a depreciative smile. “Anya explained a few things,” he said, meeting her gaze. His words were drenched in remorse, and a hollow chuckle burst from his throat. “Apparently I’m an idiot.”
The haunted shadows in his eyes caused a pang of empathy to pool within the Slayer. After all, it wasn’t that long ago she’d been very much on the vampire equals evil bandwagon, herself. And with the pity-party she’d indulged in since her return, it was easy to forget that her friends carried their own array of battle scars. For Xander, the most poignant reminder was the image of an old friend—Jesse. The innocent victim who’d served as a brutal and devastating initiation into the world of all things Hellmouthy. With an introduction like that, it was little wonder that Xander held a deep-seated hatred for anyone of the undead persuasion, least of all, the vampire that had secured a place in her heart.
Buffy’s hesitance did little to calm Xander’s overwrought nerves, and once again, he ducked his head in shame. The tension between them was almost tangible, but he forged ahead, knowing it was up to him to fix this situation and redeem himself in Buffy’s eyes. “She also threatened to withhold all sexual favours until I, and I quote, ‘grow up, and get the hell over it, already’.”
The mental image alone brought an instinctive smirk to Buffy’s lips, and sighing, she moved to sit beside him on the step. “Listen, Xander,” she said, keeping her voice calm and steady. “Before you say anything else, I'm with Spike. I love him. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but if you lay one finger on him, I swear I’ll be forced to bitch-slap you into the middle of next week.”
Their eyes met, and a wealth of understanding passed between them. This wasn’t about guilt or absolution. Beneath the teasing aspect of Buffy’s words, lay a maelstrom of possibilities, and Xander knew it was down to him to choose his path. He could continue on the blinkered course that had caused this heartache, or he could suck it up and be a man—be a friend.
With a deep sigh, Xander chose the latter.
“I get that,” he replied, running his hand through his hair. “Believe me, that memo was very much received and understood. It’s just...” Xander paused, frowning as Buffy stiffened in response to his nervous fidgeting. “He’s a vampire.”
Now was not the time for sarcasm, and Buffy fought valiantly against an impending eye-roll. “I know that,” she replied. “I know Spike has a demon, but let’s be honest, Xander, who hasn’t? We’ve all got our monsters inside of us. That darkness we try to ignore. Fear, doubt... loathing—they’re all demons too... just different kinds.” Exhaling a shaky breath, Buffy turned to face him. “Spike fights his demon every day, and every day he beats it back—defies his nature. He loves me, Xan, and that love makes him stronger than the demon... makes him... I dunno... better. ”
“But that doesn’t change what he...” Xander trailed off, knowing his argument was redundant. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I won’t.” Buffy reached across to take his hand. “I’ve realised some things since I came back,” she said, smiling when he offered no resistance. “Life isn’t as cut and dried as I thought it was. Nothing’s simple. Nothing’s perfect. Yes, some things are black and white, but some things are shades of grey... and Spike is very much in the grey column... I’ve been denial girl for too long. It’s just taken Spike to make me see it.”
Xander snorted, flashing Buffy a tentative smile. “Yeah, I hear Egypt’s nice this time of year.”
Smiling, she gently squeezed his fingers. “I think it’s time we waved goodbye to that river, Xan.” This was nice. Awkward, but nice. This was what Buffy had wanted before everything went to hell the previous morning—the chance to speak openly, without the fear of reprisals. “Pruney Scoobies are not a pretty sight.”
All things considered, it was hard to disagree with her, but despite Xander’s willingness to concede defeat, there was one issue he couldn’t ignore. “What about his soul?” he asked, “Or lack of...” Xander didn’t want to derail their progress; but likewise, he couldn’t deny that he was massively wigged by the potential for disaster. “I admit I couldn’t stand Brood Boy, but at least we knew where we stood with him...” He paused. “Well, mostly... except when he went all damage-bound.” Shaking his head, Xander returned her gaze. “Spike is as far from Angel as you can get.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Buffy raised an eyebrow, smothering a grin at the look of confusion that flitted over her friend’s face. “Cause honestly, the big... not seeing it.”
Xander grimaced. “You know... that made a lot more sense in my head.”
A heavy breath fell from Buffy’s lips as she focused her attention on their clasped hands. “I think we’ve been putting way to much stock in the whole soul business,” she said, leaning against Xander’s shoulder. “I mean really—what is a soul? What does it actually do? Anya’s right. Humans have souls, but innocent people still get killed and tortured on a daily basis. In Angel’s case, all it did was make him feel guilty. He didn’t choose to become a better man. He was forced into it by a stupid curse. Well, Spike knows the difference between right and wrong—he made that change on his own—and that means more to me than Angel’s guilt ever could.”
It was hard to reconcile this new, self-assured Buffy with the same girl he’d known for the past five years. But as Xander listened to the determination in her voice, it became clear that she’d given the matter serious consideration. “I can’t argue with that,” he replied, “but I’m not going to lie to you either—I’m still with the freaked over here. I can get the whole credit where its due thing—really, I can—but how did you go from hating his bleached-blonde guts to being in love with him?”
Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t that simple... nothing with Spike ever is. It took time, and a truck load of honesty to get here, and I’m not about to give it up. I’m excited and scared, but I’m happy too... God, it’s been so long I forgot what happy-Buffy felt like.”
Xander frowned. “Scared?”
“Huh?”
“You said you were scared.” He turned to face her. “What of?”
A nervous shrug rolled off Buffy’s shoulders as her brow furrowed in consideration. “Angel and Dru taught him how to be a monster. Spike’s never had the chance to be a man. I want to help him, but...” Shaking her head, Buffy released Xander’s hand, and leaned back on her arms. “Do you have any idea how hard that'll be? Spike’s all with the stubborn and—”
The laughter that burst from her friend’s lips was wholly unexpected. Buffy blinked, shocked, as Xander fought to regain control. “You have met Anya, right?” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Ex-Vengeance demon. Not so big on the subtle innuendo... Trust me, Buff, I know how it feels to act as someone’s moral compass.”
A knowing smile curled Buffy’s lips. “And is it worth it?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. Xander had a suspicion he’d just been played, however, the slight to his male pride paled in significance to the wide smile on Buffy’s face. “It’s worth it. If you really love him, it’s worth it.”
Tilting her head to the side, Buffy released a shaky breath. “Spike may be soulless and immoral, and yeah, half the time, he's completely arrogant, but there’s this whole other side to him that you guys never see. He’s protective, loyal... and I know he’d do anything for me. I’m so proud of him, Xan. For everything he’s achieved, everything he—I don’t know what I’d have done without him.” Tears flooded her eyes, and Buffy took a second to steady herself. “When you brought me back,” she said, blinking away her blurred vision. “I couldn’t cope. I didn’t want—it was a struggle. Every day was a struggle, but Spike understood that. He listened to me. He let me wallow in the woe-is-me-ness of my life, and he gave me what I needed to pull through. And even when I didn’t realise he was helping—even when I treated him like crap, he stayed by my side—refusing to give up on me... even when I gave up on myself.”
Gravity won the battle, and an errant tear cascaded over Buffy’s cheekbone. “I’m the Slayer, Xander,” she said, hastily wiping it away. “Happiness isn’t something I find very often. But when I’m with Spike, I can forget about everything and just be me... Not apocalypse-girl. Not the parental unit to a teenager with serious abandonment issues... Just plain old neurotic Buffy. And as twisted as the reason may be, he understands slayers. Spike gets me in ways no one else does—sometimes in ways I wish he didn’t. He sees right through the lies I tell myself, and no-matter what, I know he’ll always be there for me.”
Xander leaned forward, crossing his arms over his knees as he glanced towards her. “I’m not saying I can just forget the past,” he said, resting his chin on his forearm. “There’s too much bad blood between me and Captain Peroxide for that to happen...” He frowned, nose wrinkling as he raised his head. “Poor choice of words?”
Buffy shifted nervously. “That would be a yes.”
A reassuring smile formed on Xander’s lips when he noticed his friend’s discomfort. “But you're right,” he said, releasing a shuddering breath. “Your personal life is none of my business, and whatever my feelings towards Spike... Buffy, you mean too much to me to throw our friendship away over something stupid.” Earnestly, he reached back to take her hand. “I just need a little time to wrap my head around the idea... I’m not sure I can handle the sight of Spike getting his undead groove on just yet.”
If there was ever a time for Buffy to be thankful for her Xander-shaped friend, it was now. With a relieved laugh, she launched herself into his arms, only barely remembering to temper her crushing hold as he returned her embrace. After several heart-felt seconds, Buffy schooled her features into a mask of sobriety and pulled back to meet his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You have no idea how—thank you, Xan. This means...”
“Forget it.” Xander ducked his head in awe of her joyful response. “Just remember our agreement, yeah?”
Buffy saluted. “Public smoochies are a no go around the Xanman,” she said with an affirmative nod. In truth, the chances of the loved-up couple being able to keep their hands off each other were negligible at best; however, Buffy felt she could allow Xander this one last foray into the land of denial.
Shaking his head, Xander could only smile helplessly as Buffy answered in kind. “He’d better treat you right,” he said, revelling in the return of their mislaid camaraderie. “No one will ever be good enough for the Buffster.”
Buffy shrugged as she affected her best no-nonsense stance. “Don’t worry,” she replied with a wicked grin. “I’m the Slayer. If he gets out of line, I can still kick his ass.”
“Yeah, and knowing Spike he’d probably enjoy it.” Xander grimaced. “Great,” he muttered, “another mental image I could really do without... I think I need to scrub my brain.”
They shared a moment of joint amusement before Buffy noticed the large white box on the step behind Xander’s back, and, more importantly, the delicious aroma coming from within. “Are those doughnuts?” she asked, as her stomach uttered a timely growl.
Xander blinked, clearly having forgotten about his back-up plan. In the sleepless hours of the previous night, the Scooby had realised the folly of his ways. He knew an apology was owed, he only hoped that if contrition wasn’t the way to melt a slayer’s heart, then high calorie snack food would suffice. “Peace offering,” he replied, a shy smile tickling his lips. “I figured if my idiocy wasn’t enough to make you forgive me, I’d bribe you with jelly-filled confectionary instead.”
Buffy laughed. “Sounds good to me. What do you say, Xan? Care to join me in a cup of coffee and a sugar-high?”
“Only if you save me a lemon glaze, missy.”
“You’ll have to ask Dawn about that,” Buffy replied, smiling. “I swear that kid inhales food.”
Chuckling, they rose to their feet and Buffy found herself enveloped in an unexpected hug. “I’m sorry,” Xander whispered against her ear. “For being an idiot... For not being a better friend...” He shuddered. “For everything...”
And there it was—the elephant in the room—or more to the point, hyena. Buffy hadn’t planned on mentioning the incident they’d been forced to relive in the sphere’s disturbing slideshow—the incident that had tipped Spike right over the proverbial edge. Sure, learning of the joint deception of her friend and Watcher had hurt, but being the Slayer, the attack itself had long since faded into the annals of my-life-is-crazy-ask-me-how. In all honesty, Buffy couldn’t muster the strength to be mad about it. This was a brand new day, a brand new life... and it was time to move on.
“I know,” she replied softly. Her words were a balm, exonerating him of his crimes against her. Pulling back, Buffy offered him a radiant smile. “The past is the past, and I’m looking to the future... and right now my future consists of doughnuty goodness.”
Without further delay, Buffy retrieved the box from the top step, and with Xander at her side, she walked through the front door. They followed the sound of voices to the kitchen, where Tara was preparing a fresh batch of pancakes, and Dawn was busy fixing the drinks. “What’s the what, guys?” Buffy asked placing the box of doughnuts on the counter as Xander sat down on a stool. “Where’s Will?”
“I thought I heard voices.” Tara turned off the stove and served the mouth-watering breakfast treats onto four plates. “She’s in her room,” she said, before admonishing the youngest Summers’ for sneaking a peak in the bakery box. “Willow’s been looking at some websites. There are people she can talk to about c-controlling her gifts.”
Buffy smiled, relieved that her friend was taking a proactive approach. “That’s good,” she replied, gratefully accepting a knife and fork from her younger sister. Dawn surveyed her appearance in much the same way as Xander had not twenty minutes beforehand. However, instead of disapproval, the teenager’s eyes shone in delight, and Buffy knew her silence wouldn’t hold for long.
Eager for information, Dawn had left Janice’s house at the first opportunity, determined not to miss out on any of the gossip. She’d received an abridged version of the previous night’s activities from Tara, and the teen was surprised to see her sister and Xander making with the friendlies. Nevertheless, a golden opportunity was sitting in front of her—one that no self-respecting bratty sister could ignore. True to form, Dawn’s lips curled into a wide grin as she waved her fork in the air.
“So,” she said, stretching out the vowel sound in a way only achievable by obnoxious teenagers the world over. “How’s Spike? Did you knock his vampy socks off?”
A wide grin blossomed on Buffy’s lips as she rolled her eyes at her sister’s decidedly unsubtle approach. “You can ask him later,” she replied. “Pizza and movie night for the Summers girls.”
The news was greeted by an ecstatic squeal, and it didn’t take Dawn long to finish her pancakes and start on the doughnuts. “Do you think there’s a spell that soundproofs bedrooms?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Cos really... fifteen here. I don’t see why I should be scarred for life just because you’re boinking the undead.”
Dawn laughed as half a pancake bounced off her forehead, and Xander released a theatrical groan as he dropped his head to the table.
“Sweet mother of Zeus,” he whimpered. “Dawnie, please, spare me the visual.”
The teen giggled. “Deal with it, Xander. Looks like Anya’s gonna have to review those place settings after all… Hey, maybe Spike could be your best man!”
Her friend’s retort was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing, and as the Slayer headed for the hallway, she couldn’t help feeling a profound sense of relief that things were finally on an even keel. Only time would tell what the future held for the small group of friends, but as Buffy brought the handset to her ear, she couldn’t wait to find out.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Do you remember a while back I said I kept feeling sorry for Xander? Yeah, well this is what became of the warm fuzzies :)
Chapter End Notes:
So that’s it folks. Just the epilogue to go. I ought to put out a fluff alert, because I warn you now, it’s gonna be so sweet you’ll end up with a toothache. It’s been a rough week with two sick kiddies—who have very kindly passed their germs on to me. (The joys of parenting, huh?) So bear in mind that I’m posting this from my sickbed and reviews will go a long way in the healing process… *flutters eyelids*