From her comfortable place on the couch, Buffy thought she heard someone rummaging around in the kitchen. A moment later, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw Willow carrying a gallon of blood and a glass upstairs. The fact that Spike was ready to take some blood was a good sign that he was going to heal up just fine. She ran her fingers over her bandaged stomach and heaved a careful sigh of relief.
She understood what Spike had tried to do – she’d played the part of the sacrificial lamb herself, once upon a time. Part of her knew she should have let him finish what he’d started. Looking back, it seemed almost disrespectful that she’d denied him such a clear and selfless act of sacrifice, but she couldn’t seem to convince herself that she’d made the wrong decision. She knew what she wanted, and losing Spike was not on that list. Happy to forgo responsibility for the moment, she tried not to think of what consequences her decision might have had. He was safe, and that’s what mattered to her in the end.
Now came the question of what to do with him – not to mention their future relationship. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut against a wave of confusion, too tired to think of an answer. She didn’t know what she wanted from Spike; besides, it wasn’t as if he was actively pursuing her the way he used to. The cuddling was nice, but it was really beginning to look as though that was as far as either of them were willing to go. She’d thought more than once that if he’d shown any sign of wanting to go further, she would respond to his advances willingly, but he seemed so hesitant that she found herself backing off as well. One thing she did know – tonight he was going to sleep in her bed, and if he was healed up enough, she was going to be right there next to him. After that, she didn’t know.
The familiar thump of Dawn’s flip-flops sounded in the kitchen. Suddenly feeling lonesome, Buffy pressed a hand into her stomach for support and rose carefully from the couch. A wave of vertigo almost made her sit back down again, but she fought it.
Dawn looked about 12 years old when Buffy found her standing in front of the refrigerator with a blank expression. She felt a pang of guilt when she thought of how she’d been ignoring Dawn over the last few weeks. “Want me to fix you something?” asked Buffy.
Biting her lower lip, Dawn shut the refrigerator door without taking anything out. “No thanks. I don’t think I could eat anything.”
“Everything okay?”
Dawn shrugged indifferently as she fished a clean glass out of the dishwasher. “I’ve been talking to Andrew. He’s not doing so well after what happened.”
“Happened?” Buffy echoed in confusion.
“You know. Anya dying right in front of him?” Dawn replied coarsely as she poured herself a glass of water.
“Oh,” said Buffy, her gaze falling to the scuffed kitchen floor. “I keep forgetting all that’s happened. Everything’s such a blur. It doesn’t seem real, you know?”
Dawn looked for a moment like she was going to snap at her sister, but seemed to think better of it. Her shoulders drooped, as if the will to fight had suddenly left her. “Amanda didn’t make it either,” she added quietly.
Buffy blinked in surprise. She hadn’t noticed Amanda’s absence before then. All the speechifying in the world about noble sacrifice still didn’t help the guilty feeling welling up in Buffy’s chest. Sixteen was far too young to die; she should know.
“So many others, too,” Dawn continued. Taking a deep breath, she set her glass on the kitchen island and stared intently at her sister. “I want to get out of here.”
“We can’t go anywhere tonight, Dawnie,” said Buffy gently. “I don’t think it’s safe out there quite yet.”
“No. I want to leave the Hellmouth for good. I’m sick of living like this.”
“Oh…” Wincing in pain that was more than just physical, Buffy leaned heavily against the island facing her sister. “Yeah. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
“There’s a ton of other Slayers now,” Dawn continued, fed by her sister’s encouragement. “We could leave, and it would be okay for once.”
Buffy was surprised at the seriousness in her sister’s voice. “You’re that unhappy here?”
“Aren’t you? I mean think about it, Buffy. All we’ve known here has been tragedy and fighting. And I’m sick of seeing everyone I care about die.”
“Can’t argue with you there.”
“Then we can leave?” Dawn asked hopefully.
“We’ll see, Dawnie,” said Buffy, running her fingers through her sister’s long hair. “We still have a few responsibilities here, at least for tonight. Let’s just take things one day at a time, and see what happens, okay?”
With a reluctant nod, Dawn smiled and said, “You sounded kinda like Mom just then.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah. Promise you’ll at least think about leaving?”
“I promise. I’ll pinky swear, even,” Buffy said, offering her little finger to her sister. As they hooked pinkies, Willow walked into the kitchen carrying an empty jug.
“How’s Spike?” asked Buffy as she pulled Dawn into a one-armed hug.
“Better,” Willow replied in an even tone as she began filling the teakettle with water. “He ate – wow, did he eat – and said he had enough strength afterwards to take a shower, which between you and me, he really needed. He’s also super cranky, which tells me more than anything that he’ll be fine.”
Buffy smiled, and a warm feeling spread through her chest. “Thanks, Will. I wouldn’t know what to do with him. And hey – I’m feeling better myself. That was some powerful mojo you worked there.”
Willow either didn’t hear her or chose not to answer. Looking as if she had something serious on her mind, she busied herself with pulling out a mug and dropping a tea bag into it. “I’m probably gonna turn in early,” she said as she fished for honey in the cupboard. “I know the sun’s still up, but I’m kinda pooped.”
“Well, it’s not like you did much today,” Dawn teased. “You just riddled the planet with Slayers is all.”
Willow smiled but didn’t respond. The other two girls sensed she was deeply exhausted and left her alone. “I think I’m gonna turn in, too,” Buffy said with a stifled yawn.
“Kay,” Dawn replied as she set her empty glass in the sink. “You want me to wake you up if Xander calls from the hospital?”
“Definitely, but try to get some sleep, too.”
With that, Buffy turned on her heels and climbed wearily up the stairs, feeling as if she had a 50-pound weight tied to each shoelace. Spike wasn’t in bed when she returned to the room. Pricking her ears up against the silence, she made out the gentle sound of the shower running in the bathroom down the hall. Thankful that he was up and around, Buffy let herself collapse onto the bed with an exhausted ooof.
It was over, she realized in amazement, and they’d actually won. For so long, she’d prepared herself for defeat, and now that victory seemed within their grasp, she could hardly believe it. The world was once against safe for the unsuspecting populace, which was definitely cause for celebration – so why did she feel so down all of the sudden? As she picked at her chipped nail polish, she thought perhaps she was experiencing a mental let down after all the build up before the battle. Her mom used to talk about such a decline around Christmastime after the girls would finish tearing into their presents, but Buffy had never really experienced it after a battle. Her job was never really over, so there was no time to let her guard down. But now there were other girls to do her job – she wasn’t as needed as she had once been. Perhaps Dawn was right, she thought. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for them both. Buffy thought maybe it might be easier to adjust to the change if it wasn’t staring her right in the face everyday in the form of new Slayerettes. She made up her mind to talk the matter over with Giles tomorrow, or whenever he could lend her his ear.
Rolling onto her side, Buffy frowned at the clock. A good half an hour had passed since she returned to her room, and Spike had still not emerged from the bathroom. Exactly how long a shower was he planning to take? She could still hear it running in the background. There were still bills to pay and hot water to be saved for an exhausted Slayer who happened to have the same name as her. Wincing in pain, she rose from the bed and knocked on the bathroom door.
No answer.
“Spike? You okay in there? Should I send in the Coast Guard?”
Silence.
Buffy rolled her eyes dramatically, not feeling the slightest bit of patience at the moment. Finding the door unlocked, she barged in and said, “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse my brashness. After an epic battle like today’s, somehow I just really don’t care about etiquette. It’s a thing.”
From behind the shower curtain, she detected the slightest bit of movement, but he didn’t say a word in response to her entry. Sighing impatiently at the lack of reaction, she marched over and peeked behind the curtain. Shrouded in heavy steam, Spike stood with his fists pressed into the wall in front of him, head bowed under the water flow. She could feel how hot the water was from where she stood. The skin on his shoulders and neck was flushed red, the steady stream of scalding water burning him. His head turned slightly towards her, silently acknowledging her presence. The expression on his face surprised her. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn he was glaring at her.
“That bad, huh?” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
Pushing himself off the wall, Spike turned off the water and threw back the shower curtain in one smooth movement. Buffy watched wide-eyed as he stepped out into the muggy bathroom with an unabashed air she’d not seen from him since their affair last year. Unconcerned with his nudity, he snatched up a towel and scrubbed furiously at his sopping hair for a moment before wrapping it around his hips.
“Your burn looks like it’s healed,” Buffy noted, trying her best not to stare. It did, indeed. Thanks to Willow, it was no longer black and ominous looking; instead his chest had taken on an angry red hue. The burn looked no worse than anything he might have gotten from an accidental peek of sunlight. Still, she frowned at his decision to take a scalding hot shower with such an injury. “You okay?”
“No.”
She glanced uncertainly in his direction, wondering why he sounded so angry with her. “Why don’t you come to bed, then? You sound tired.”
Spike turned around so quickly that Buffy drew back instinctively, afraid that he was about to strike her. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he seemed to rethink it. Stooping to retrieve his dirty clothes from the floor, he walked past her and out through the door.
“Not that way,” Buffy called when she saw that he turned towards the stairs. “We have my room tonight. Faith is on duty with the others.”
Once again, he didn’t reply. The only way she knew he’d heard her was that he changed direction and headed for her room. He dropped his clothes carelessly in the doorway as he entered, obviously not interested in putting them back on.
Not feeling like having an argument, Buffy rolled her eyes again as she followed him into the room. She kicked his clothes out of her way and said, “Look, Spike. You’re obviously pissed about something, so can you please just get it out so we can go to bed? I’m too tired for this.”
“You shouldn’t have done it,” he said quietly.
“Done what?” she asked, holding up her hands.
“Saved me.”
She chuckled in disbelief. “You’re kidding right?” The glare he shot in her direction told her that he wasn’t. “Look, I understand the appeal of the noble sacrifice – really, I do – but you can’t seriously be angry with me for vetoing your choice? I didn’t think it was necessary.”
“That wasn’t for you to decide,” he snapped. “And yes, I am angry.”
With a frustrated growl, Buffy scrubbed her fists over her face. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Then you bloody well shouldn’t have asked what was wrong.”
“What is with you?” she shot back. “All right, I get that you’re angry, but you know what? It’s done now. No going back. Don’t you think you’re acting a bit over the top here?”
Spike sat on the edge of the bed and placed his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Buffy edged closer and lightly touched the back of his neck, where the ends of his hair were curling as they dried. His skin was hot to the touch from his long shower. “You’re probably just tired, like the rest of us,” she said gently, frowning when she felt his back jolt with a bitter chuckle. “What?” she asked accusingly.
“Nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head and her hand away from his neck in the process. “Everything’s come undone, is all. Wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Didn’t even think I’d make it this far.”
“Are you trying to say you knew that amulet might kill you?” she asked slowly.
“Course I did,” he replied shortly. “Was pretty obvious if you ask me, what with all that champion hoo-hah. They might as well have carved R.I.P. onto the back of the blasted thing, for all its subtleties.”
“I guess I missed the memo,” she murmured, feeling a strange twinge in her stomach. “I mean … you knew? And you still went through with it?”
His clear blue eyes blinked up at her questioningly. “Is that really so surprising?”
Buffy stared at her hands, unable to think of a response. Of course, she knew he had it in him to willingly make such a sacrifice – but to have been preparing himself for it for days? It did surprise her. Looking back on all the things he’d said and done since she’d given him the amulet, Buffy realized how many of them had been Spike saying goodbye. She felt suddenly angry yet strangely proud at the same time. “I don’t need you to save me, Spike.”
“Who said I did it for you?” he asked calmly.
That caught Buffy off-guard. She wanted him to elaborate, but the statement seemed rather rhetorical. “Well, for what it’s worth,” she tried again, “I was really proud of you today.”
Spike stared back at her with the same empty expression. “Is Anya here?” he asked, ignoring the compliment.
“Actually,” she replied quietly, “I don’t think she made it.”
“That’s a shame,” he said, his face unreadable. “I needed to ask her a question. Wanted a second opinion on something.”
Buffy’s frown deepened. “That’s all you have to say about her dying?”
“For now.”
“Spike, would you please tell me what’s wrong?”
“Oh, didn’t Willow let you in on the secret already?” he said with an incredulous snicker. “I’m surprised. She shot out of here fast enough.”
“What secret?”
“Should have known when the light came,” he muttered despairingly. “It didn’t feel right inside – like something was lifting up and out of me. Now it’s gone, and I don’t know if I can get it back again.”
Buffy had had enough of his cryptic monologue. “Either you tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to find Willow.”
“Would you like me to draw you a picture? The soul’s gone, Buffy. Apparently went poof while I was busy channeling UV rays … or maybe when you ripped that amulet off my neck. Ta, pet.”
Buffy’s mouth fell open, but for several long moments, she couldn’t seem to form any words. A few things clicked into place in her head, such as the minor but noticeable changes in his behavior. His eyes beheld her differently, too. His whole demeanor had changed from brooding and hesitant to angry and sexual. A million different scenarios flew through her mind – of Spike never being able to reclaim his lost soul; of him not even trying to retrieve it at all; of her friends rejecting him and forcing him out of her life regardless of her protests; of him deciding she was no longer worth the sacrifice and returning to his old vampiric ways.
“Oh.”
Spike snorted. “Bet you’ve got a lot more to say than that. Don’t hold back now. Feel free to chuck me out into the daylight if you want. I’m past caring.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, his cheek helping her find her voice. “Just calm down, so I can think.”
As she sat down on the bed beside him, he immediately rose and started prowling around the edges of her vision. “It’s not like I don’t want it back. Fought long and hard for my soul, I’ll have you know. This isn’t right.”
“So … you’re not feeling any murderous, driven-crazy-by-all-the-humanity Angelus urges, huh?” Buffy swallowed hard and said, “That’s good.”
“Not so much,” he muttered, still pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “Though killing something would feel good right about now. I’ll behave, though,” he added defensively when she shot a glare at him. “Done it before, haven’t I?”
“You don’t even have your chip anymore,” she realized, saying the words more to herself than to him.
Spike sighed and dropped down to one knee in front of her. “I got a soul for you, you daft bint. I think I can behave myself for a little while ‘til I get it back. Still love you, don’t I?”
Buffy’s shoulders visibly relaxed at his words. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do. But please, Spike, don’t slip and make me have to do something that would tear me up inside. I can’t handle you going A.W.O.L. or worse on top of everything else.”
“What should we tell the others?” he asked quietly.
Buffy groaned at the prospect of countless Slayers knowing Spike was without a soul. Feeling a rush of fierce protectiveness, she said, “Not the girls. There’s no telling what they’d do if they found out, with all that new power tingling in their fingers. But we should let a few people know – like Giles. He might be able to help. He took the amulet from me earlier, to study it.”
“Did he, now?” When Spike lifted his head to glare at her, she experienced a pure moment of panic. She’d forgotten how intense his gaze could be – as if nothing else in the world was worth noticing other than her for that moment. All of the sudden, she realized how close he was and how little he was wearing. Heat still radiated off his water-speckled skin. She felt strangely intimidated by him, something she hadn’t felt since she was first introduced to soulless Spike so many years ago, stepping out of the shadows behind the Bronze with that slow, sardonic clap. Familiarity had yet to settle in, and she was far from comfortable in his presence. But at the same time, she was struggling against excitement. As proud as she was of ensouled Spike and knowing how much she’d grown to trust him, there was still something about his soulless counterpart that wound her up like no one else could. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was – perhaps it was simply in their nature to be fascinated with each other.
Spike seemed to sense her distress, or perhaps he had picked up on her arousal. Either way, he didn’t back off but leaned in closer. She shivered when she felt his breath on her neck; it trickled through her hair and down the length of her back, causing her to draw closer as well, even though she meant to back away. Her body was taking over, where her mind was too tired to put up a rational argument – and Spike seemed to realize it. He ran his fingers through her hair with a roughness that his ensouled counterpart would never even considered using with her.
“I’ve got a lot of facts floating around in my head right now,” he said quietly as he studied her unguarded expression. “A lot of things I know I should be doing, and things I shouldn’t even consider.” His mouth found her temple, her heartbeat hammering against his lips as he spoke. “None of it makes sense anymore, now that the soul’s gone. I know I shouldn’t touch you … but I can’t really remember why.”
Rationale and confusion had long since fled, leaving only her raw feelings for Spike before her. “Why are you so determined not to give us a chance?” Buffy managed weakly as their cheeks brushed together. His skin was so smooth and warm … she wanted to touch every inch of it.
“I swore I’d never try anything with you again,” he replied, inching back slightly as he said the words. “Not unless you asked me to or acted first.”
“Oh. Well, then … let me help you.” Sliding her arm around his neck, she brought his lips to hers in one fluid movement.
-----------------
To be continued.
Feedback? :)
A/N: That was the first time I've ever written soulless Spike -- it was kinda fun. ;D
If that kiss seemed unfounded to you, keep in mind that both Buffy and Spike are exhausted and coming off the edge of a huge battle that almost claimed their lives – so they’re both slightly irrational. Add to that Spike’s sudden lack of inhibition and all the sexual tension that’s been building up between them during Season 7 … and there ya go.
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