Tara took the hairbrush out of Buffy’s hands and started running it through her hair with long strokes. Buffy had decided to let it fall over her shoulder, after she remembered the admiring comments from Spike. He loved to run his fingers through her hair.
“How’s Willow? Was she awake when you left her this morning?” Buffy gently prodded the blonde girl for information.
Early in the morning, Tara had come back exhausted from Giles’ apartment and had slept nearly the whole afternoon. Even if Tara had tried to act normally, Buffy knew how anxious the girl was to get back to her lover. In spite of that, she had insisted on helping Buffy prepare for her date.
Tara let the brush fall to her lap and sighed. “Willow was getting more restless, tossing and turning, but she’s still unconscious. Giles took the day shift to watch over her and sent me home for some rest. Willow’s so pale, but her pulse and blood pressure is normal. I’m terribly worried! What if she doesn’t wake up?”
Buffy turned and took Tara’s hand gently between her own. “Willow’s strong, Tara. Remember? After the teleportation spell for Glory, she was unconscious for a while too. Maybe she just needs time to refuel her batteries or whatever you witches store your magic in. Dawn told us that the demon Will fought was very strong – the fight probably just drained her energy.”
“Giles said the same, but… It’s been nearly a day now. Oh, Willow!” Tara buried her face in her hands and Buffy gently stroked her back. Finally, the blonde witch sniffed and lifted her head again.
“Giles phoned the Devon Coven in England last night. The demon, oh, whatever its name is, lives like a parasite, sucking the energy out of the magically gifted. The Coven said that it might’ve taken all of Willow’s magic during the fight. If it did that…” New tears slid down Tara’s cheek and she looked desolate. “Buffy, they said a shock like that could cause permanent damage. They’re sending a healer over to Sunnydale, but she won’t be here for a couple of days.”
Tara squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her hand over her wet face. Then she looked at Buffy with large, red rimmed, sad eyes. “How can Willow live without her magic? I know we wanted her to cut down with the spells, but to not have magic at all…”
What could Buffy say to that? She wanted her friend back: funny, clever Willow who was so proud that she could float pencils. Over the years, her magic had overshadowed her enormous skills with computers and science in their fight against evil. There had been screw-ups, major ones, but Willow had been so eager to use her powers to help. When Buffy saw her lying there, motionless and quiet, her face white and drawn, fear had clamped its iron fist around Buffy’s heart. It was like stepping into her living room and seeing her mother, prone and unmoving, stretched on the couch.
Picking up the brush again, Tara continued to slowly stroke Buffy’s hair and murmured, “I hate it when I have to sit by and wait. I talked to Willow, all night long, about all the good times we’ve had, about all the dreams we’ve shared and the future we’d planned. They say, even in a coma, a person can hear what’s being said. Buffy, do you think that’s true?”
“I’m sure Willow knows that you’re at her side.” Buffy closed her eyes and enjoyed the pleasure of getting her hair brushed for a while, not sure what more to say to give Tara hope. Whenever Buffy thought about the demon and Willow, a sense of dread flooded her. She hoped she was wrong, that the demon was gone for good and Willow was free of his influence.
After a moment Tara asked in a more controlled voice. “Have you told Giles about, you know, you and Spike?”
“No, I haven’t, well not explicitly like ‘Hey, Giles, I’m dating Spike’. That sounds totally awkward. But I didn’t hide it from him, either. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, he said that it’s good that you have Spike, to help you with Dawn and your patrols. That sounded, well, like he knew and didn’t mind.” Tara smiled a bit and tugged Buffy’s hair back. “He’s like a father to you, right?”
Buffy nodded. “He knows me better than my real father ever did. It would hurt a lot if he interfered or tried to prevent me from having a romantic relationship with Spike. Not that I, uhmmm, already know where all this relationship-thingy is going. But, it really feels like the right thing to do. I couldn’t have made it through yesterday without Spike’s support.”
She smiled at Tara over her shoulder. “He has such a solid shoulder to lean on and he’s like my second half in a fight. Two treats a girl really can get used to.”
“Especially if said girl is not a normal girl but a super-charged Slayer who has to save the world on a regular basis.” Tara burst into giggles and was quickly joined by Buffy.
The doorbell rang and they heard Dawn squeal and shoot out of her room like a living cannonball. The stairs rumbled as she jumped down to open the door. Buffy suspected that her sister had probably been lurking at her window, waiting to see Spike arrive.
“We better hurry up and save your hero.” Tara stood up and put the brush on the dresser. She looked Buffy over and gave her an approving grin. “A bit of lipstick and you’re ready to knock him out of his boots. I think this pink one would look gorgeous on you.”
Buffy stopped at the top of the stairs; Spike’s eyes grew wide and he stopped talking to Dawn mid-sentence. His usual black duster was missing, but he looked absolutely gorgeous with his tight black jeans and an open-necked, black shirt. His skin shined translucent in contrast to the dark, lush fabric, his blue eyes sparkling sapphires under long, dark lashes, and his hair a bit mussed. Buffy’s fingers itched to dive into his locks and mess them up even more.
She slowly descended the stairs, watching his reverent expression. Yup, their careful planning had hit dead center. She could see Dawn, grinning widely, giving her the thumbs-up behind Spike’s back.
After a long discussion, they’d decided Buffy should wear Spike’s favorite colors, red and black. The soft black leather wrap skirt swished around her legs as she descended the steps. Her sleeveless burgundy red silk top was fastened behind her neck with a low cut back; the hem fell loosely over her waist. Her hair hung elegantly in gleaming, golden waves over her bare shoulders.
“When was the last time I’ve seen you speechless?” Buffy teased Spike as she stood in front of him. That finally shook him out of his stupor.
“Sorry pet, but you’re a right vision. Couldn’t help but admire such beauty.” He gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.
Dawn giggled, “If I’d shoved him, I bet Spike would’ve fallen flat on his ass… ahm backside. Half the time when he was talking to me he kept peeking up the stairs.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Which by the way wasn’t very polite. But maybe I’ll forgive you if you let me watch ‘Bring It On’ the next movie night.”
Spike rolled his eyes at that blackmail. “Sure Bit, we’ll watch whatever you want.”
Buffy looked back at Tara and winked. Spike was clearly wrapped around Dawn’s finger. Where did he get this endless patience with her quicksilver sister? Not that he complied with her every whim; he could also talk her into doing her homework. That was another character treat she’d learned to admire in the last months.
“Buffy, he got you flowers too! Spike, come on…” Dawn bounced on her toes.
“Dawn, I would think this was your first date, as excited as you are.” Tara teased the teenager. “Wait ‘til it’s time for your Prom, we’ll all be here to see you off.”
“And be sure to embarrass you in front of your date,” added Buffy with a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“Besides, I’d need to have a little heart to heart talk with the bloke that wants to take my Niblet on a date. If he doesn’t wet his pants after a look at my pearly whites, than he might get a chance to take you out.”
Dawn looked with wide eyes at them. “Oh, no! You’ll totally ruin my life. I’ll end up an old spinster, with you three around, talking to my dolls and feeding fifty cats. That’s so not fair.”
Spike saved her by fetching a bouquet of roses from the kitchen counter. With a gentle smile he plucked out one white rose and presented it to Tara. As Spike presented Dawn with another white rose, she actually blushed.
The red roses he offered Buffy. “Would you like to accompany me to dinner, my fair lady?”
Now she was swept off her feet. She’d expected flowers; that was part of the date-deal, yet not with such a romantic gesture. It could have been cheesy, had there not been the deep adoration in his gaze. She felt a blush rising in her cheeks. Oh my God! She was blushing in front of Dawn! She would never live through the teasing which was sure to follow the next weeks.
A not-so-hidden smile tugged at Tara’s lips as she reached out for the flowers. “I’ll put them into a vase, so you can get on your way. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Dawn’s all tucked into bed before I head over to Giles’.” With that, she shoved Buffy and Spike out of the door so quickly that Buffy nearly forgot to pick up her jacket.
“Soooo, where are we going tonight?” Buffy prodded Spike as he helped her into her jacket. He had said nothing about what he’d planned for them to do; he’d been suspiciously secretive about it.
Spike cocked his head and rubbed his neck nervously with his hand. “Umm, pet… I want to take you to a restaurant here in town; not too far away so we can walk if you like. Thought you’d prefer to go someplace where nobody will interrupt us.”
Oh, does Spike mean, where nobody will recognize her? She was surprised by his thoughtfulness. If she was honest, she would have preferred her first date with Spike to be without any interference. Would she like to be seen with him by Giles or even worse, by Xander? As she studied Spike, she could clearly see that he was uncomfortable and anxiously waiting for her answer.
She linked her arm with his and smiled up at him. “Spike, I trust your judgment. Take me wherever you want.” She was pleased to see Spike relax and smile back at her.
“This is your night and it’s a beautiful one; so let’s walk.” Buffy looked up at the stars, glittering brightly in the dark, velvety sky, the moon just rising over the horizon. She pressed Spike’s arm closer to her and flashed him a grin. “Just let’s stay clear of the cemeteries, tonight’s my night off.”
Glancing back, Buffy noticed the tiny movement of the curtains from the living room. Obviously they were being secretly observed by two pairs of eyes. Matchmakers, both of them! She smiled at the idea. With a last wave towards the house, they were on their way.
They walked through the dark, quiet streets in companionable silence. Buffy watched Spike out of the corner of her eye.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.
Spike shot her a quick glance. “Nothing important, just thinking.” He pursed his lips. “Don’t want to spoil the evening, pet.”
“Come on, something’s bugging you.”
“Right. Ok.” Spike stopped under a streetlamp. “How’s the Niblet doing?”
Buffy looked up and studied his concerned face before she sighed. “She won’t talk about it. I tried to pry some reaction out of her, but – you know how mulish she can be. What she went through yesterday should give her nightmares. Top that with the returned memories from Halloween – she should be crying, screaming, weeping, something, anything…”
Buffy shrugged helplessly. “It’s like hitting a wall. Impenetrable. You’ve seen Dawnie; she was this Stepford-y bright and joyful the whole day. I thought I’d never say this, but I want my hormone-driven, pesky sis back.”
Spike grabbed Buffy’s hand and ran his thumb across her palm. “First Glory, now this beasty. Bit must think the bloody whole world is after her.”
Buffy’s stomach clenched. “That might be right,” she murmured.
How could she explain the foreboding that rose up within her whenever she thought of her sister? It felt as if a thunderstorm was approaching, the air full of crackling electricity, clouds billowing up into ever higher towers. She could smell something bad advancing in the wind but it was elusive, hidden in a mist, and she had no idea what to even look for, let alone how to fight it
Spike’s eyes flared up in a sudden challenge. “We killed them both. Whoever’s after our Niblet will have to go through us first.”
“Spike, I’m not sure we killed that demon. We hurt it badly and we drove it from our dimension – for now. Somewhere out there is an angry demon who knows about Dawnie. It would be too easy to just assume that it’s gone. Nothing in my life is that easy. This seems to be part of my job description.”
“That was a pretty nasty bugger, that one. Tough.” He nodded, thoughtfully. “And it might bring company.”
Spike turned and hit the lamppost hard, scraping his knuckles. “Bloody hell!” He raised his head and bellowed. “Can’t you scrawny ‘Powers That Fuck with Us’ bugger off and leave us in peace for a while?” For good measure he kicked the post with his heavy boots a few more times.
Buffy examined the dents thoughtfully. “Wish that would help. I’d help you kick up all lampposts in town.” Her shoulders sagged and she looked up to the sky. “Sometimes I’m so tired, Spike, so tired of fighting, so tired of being the strong one - the one to save the world.”
Spike pulled her into a hug and Buffy leaned against him. “You’re not alone, pet. You have your friends, your Watcher.” His voice rumbled in his chest.
“And I have you.”
“The whole bloody package.”
Buffy chuckled and leaned back to look up into his eyes. She laid her hand on his stomach and smiled. “A bloody nice package.”
As Spike smirked, she slid her arm through his and started walking down the street again.
“Dawnie’s birthday is coming up.” Buffy said after a few steps.
“Know anything she’d like, luv?”
“How about some weapon’s training? I know she pestered you the whole summer.”
“Could throw in a nice, handy dagger.”
“I just hope Social Services doesn’t find out about that.”
Spike was leading Buffy towards one of the seedier parts of Sunnydale. When they finally stopped in front of a brightly painted red door in a dark alley behind a row of warehouses, she looked up at him, puzzled.
“This is the restaurant? I’ve never heard about one here in this area.”
Spike grew very still. “Buffy, this place, it’s not somewhere you’d normally go. This restaurant mostly caters to demons.”
He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “Pet, I’m not human, haven’t been for a long while.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t pretend that I’m anything other than a vampire. Even if you’d like to forget it, I know that it wouldn’t work between us if I’d had to hide who - what - I am.”
Spike changed into his demon visage and raised his head, yellow eyes gleaming golden in the streetlamps. “Please, luv, I want you to see me clearly as who I am, a man, but also a monster. As hard as I might try, there will always be the demon in me. He’s a part of me; I’m a part of him – we’re inseparable.”
Buffy sensed how important her answer would be to Spike and thought about it for a long moment, searching for the right words. He deserved an honest and clear answer.
“Spike, I know who you are. I was fully aware of what you are when I said that I would give you a chance to show me that we could work together.”
She paused and looked him directly in the glowing, demon eyes. “I know it won’t be easy. God, there are a hell of a lot of obstacles in our way. But a little thing, like the odds being against me, has never stopped me before.”
Buffy reached out with her hand and brushed her fingertips over Spike’s wrinkled brow, just as she’d done it the day they had lost all their memories. Her fingers caressed the side of his face, wandering up again to the scar cutting his eyebrow. It was more visible in his demon form, a sharp, defined cross. She wondered where he’d got it.
Spike had his glowing, yellow eyes fixed on her face. Also in this form, his devotion and admiration was reaching out to her, filling her heart with golden light. Was this why he was so different? Because his demon was able to follow his host’s human emotions? Was able to feel adoration – love? - for her too? She couldn’t decide if this thought flattered her or scared her to death. Both, probably.
Slowly, her fingertips fluttered along his sharp brow ridges, feeling their rough texture. This time, he didn’t change back under her hand; he boldly presented his demon form, for her to inspect. Spike held her gaze, not blinking, not breathing, but oh so present to all her senses. Her thumb explored the sharp curve of his cheekbone, her hand finally cupping firmly his strong jaw.
Buffy leaned in for a tender kiss, her eyes never leaving his. Spikes lips parted under her insistent pressure and her tongue cautiously explored the sharp tips of his elongated canines. She knew the damage they could do, how easily they could break her skin, draw her blood. Yet she also knew that he would never use them against her - not the man and not the demon.
After many long moments, Buffy leaned back and beckoned. “Come on, Spike. Show me your world.”
Spike drew in a deep, shuddering breath and shook his face back to his human form. He stepped up to the door and knocked loudly with the attached brass handle. Buffy could hear footsteps approaching. A slider was opened and two hostile, dark brown eyes stared out at them.
With a foreign inflection Buffy couldn’t quite place, the man behind the door addressed Spike. “Is this how you honor the hospitality I’ve given you, Spike? By bringing the Slayer to my doorstep?”
Spike loosely crossed his arms over his chest and answered with a slight bow. “Kareem, my friend. Would I ever bring harm to the threshold of your home? We come here in peace, to enjoy the spices of the orient you introduce to this dreary town. The Slayer will not bring harm upon you or your customers, as long as the rules of hospitality are honored.”
Buffy watched in rapt attention. Spike’s voice had subtly changed to a more cultured tone and his speech was respectful and formal. She decided to confirm his introduction.
“I don’t intend to harm anyone who doesn’t attack me first or harms any humans without cause in my presence. I’m here as Spike’s guest, as Buffy Summers, not as the Slayer.”
The dark, intelligent eyes scanned her face for a long, long while and she felt vulnerable and exposed under his sharp gaze. Finally, he nodded. “If Spike vouches for you, Slayer, you are welcome in my home.” She heard a heavy bolt slide and the door opened.
With another formal bow towards his host, Spike waved Buffy across the threshold with a flourishing gesture into the most amazing restaurant she’d ever seen.
“This is the ‘Serail’ and this is Kareem, the unchallenged culinary master of oriental spices, and the best bloody cook I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”
Buffy scrutinized Kareem. He was of less than medium height, a middle aged man with a sun dried complexion. He looked human enough, if you didn’t mind his spiked, blue-tinged skin.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers. Do you prefer a seat at a table or would you like to try a divan?”
Spike came to her aid. “We could either sit on the floor, on cushions, like over there?” He gestured towards the center of the room, where several groups sat cross-legged on brightly colored pallets around dark wooden, carved tables.
“Or over there, on more conventional benches,” and he pointed to niches around the walls of the large room.
Buffy took in the ‘Arabian Nights’ themed interior. Her head was reeling from the heady aroma of sandalwood and spices that she couldn’t identify. Oriental music, low and with uncommon harmonies, was creating an alluring atmosphere against the background of the murmured conversation. The room was dimly lit by lanterns with joyful red and blue glass panels and the flickering flames from huge brass braziers. It looked exotic and inviting at the same time.
“Over there in a niche would be fine, Spike,” was Buffy’s decision. She was adventurous, really, but only to a certain point. Besides, to sit crossed legged on the floor in a skirt, over a long period of time, didn’t strike her as very comfortable.
The niches were divided by rattan-netting and offered privacy for each party. The low bench, running in a half circles around a narrow table, was made of brick, covered by huge heaps of soft, intricately patterned cushions. Buffy took her seat gingerly at the end of the bench and watched as Spike removed his boots, pulled his legs up on the bench and leaned on the headrest of the inner curve.
He stretched his limbs like a great cat, sinuous and with an elegant grace. He patted the cushion beside him. “Make yourself comfortable, luv.”
Buffy followed Spike’s example; she slipped out of her pumps and curled up on the bench next to him. Silently, a waiter had set two glass cups, filled with green leaves, on tiny brass plates before them. From a silver kettle he poured a steaming, amber liquid into them.
“Mint tea, very strong and sweet. Kareem grows the mint himself, specifically for the restaurant,” Spike explained. He was watching her with an anxious expression, still unsure if she liked his idea.
A fresh aroma wafted up and cleared Buffy’s mind as she took a careful sip from the hot tea.
Did she like it? She took in the sultry atmosphere and felt like she’d been dropped out of the 20th century directly into the middle of an exotic dream of Sinbad the Sailor. That some of the customers had tusks or fangs and scales or fur didn’t hurt that impression.
“Spike, this is the best dinner surprise I’ve had in a long time - scratch that, ever.” Buffy gave him a bright smile and chuckled at his smug grin.
She thought about the time, after much prodding from her and Willow, that Angel had invited her to coffee at the Bronze. How lame had that been? He’d also had coffee there with Cordelia. Where did that place her on the Zagat’s guide of dates? And Parker? Pffft! Don’t even dwell on that bastard. Riley had taken her out sometimes to the Espresso Pump or the Pizza Place, and don’t forget that picnic with the apple slices. Unadventurous and dull compared to this.
Spike interrupted her musings. “Pet, would you like me to order? A sampler with several small dishes would be nice, so you can taste everything and decide what you like best. A bit of salad and bread to go with it. T’is ok with you?”
Buffy nodded and watched as Spike expertly ordered their food. All the foreign names rolled off his tongue with ease as he negotiated with their waiter.
While they waited for their order to arrive, Buffy decided to ask the question that had been nagging at her since they’d arrived here. “So, Kareem? Your greeting sounded oddly formal. Who’s he and where did you meet him?”
“Ah, pet, it’s a long story…”
“Don’t we have enough time tonight? Besides, you know… You with the Buffy memorabilia hoard, and I only with the dusty information from the Watcher’s diaries about the Scourge of Europe.”
Buffy waved her hand regally. “I think, you owe me some entertainment, some tale from your colorful past, Scheherazade.”