The apartment block was a twin to the one that had been Glory’s headquarters, and walking into the lobby brought back memories. Bad, thinking about the crazy Hell-Goddess who had abducted Dawn, brain-sucked Tara, tortured Spike, and caused Buffy’s death; but also good. It was in a lobby just like this that she had seen Spike at his magnificent best; fighting his way out against impossible odds, battered and tortured but undefeated, having held out under brutal torment for the sake of her and Dawn. Her vision blurred as they entered the elevator, and she wiped her eyes hastily.
Dawn reached out and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “Must be kinda creepy for him, living in a place just like Glory’s, huh?” she said. “Still, least it’s not the same block.”
Janice was oblivious to the interchange. “Wow, cool place,” she remarked as the elevator reached the top floor and they stepped out. “Penthouse suite, huh?”
“Yeah, cool,” Dawn agreed, bouncing ahead and ringing the apartment’s bell.
The door opened and Spike was there. “Hi, Nibblet, Janice,” he greeted, beaming. The smile became tighter and harder as he saw Buffy. “Slayer. Come on in.”
Buffy frowned at his use of her title. She’d overlooked that mannerism when making her list for Halfrek. Still, it was a minor point. She followed the younger girls into the room, and looked around with interest. Décor not the same as Glory’s apartment, which was of the good; but everything was bland and beige. Spike hadn’t had much of a chance to impose his own personality on the place yet; a single line of books on the bookshelf, and a small stack of CDs beside the stereo, was as far as he’d managed to get. One of the albums was playing softly in the background; Blink 182’s ‘Take Off Your Pants & Jacket’. So Halfrek had followed her instructions about updating Spike’s musical tastes, check. And, judging by the delicious smell in the room, she had obeyed the stipulation that he must be able to cook.
“You want the grand tour, then, pets?” Spike asked. “I’ll show you round, then we can start on the food. Everyone else has had a gander; we were just waiting for you.”
Buffy looked around, identifying the other guests. Xander and Anya, Willow and Tara, of course; Spike’s baggy-skinned demon friend Clem was expected; but she was surprised to see Sophie, smiling shyly and looking lost, and Xander’s workmate Richard. Why had Spike invited him? She knew why Xander had brought him to her own party, he’d been trying to fix Buffy up with a nice normal guy, but she couldn’t understand Spike’s motivation. He hadn’t exactly bonded with the construction worker during the ghastly and interminable disaster of that last party, not as far as she’d noticed anyway. Or had Xander brought him? Surely he wouldn’t have brought him along without Spike’s approval. She noticed that Richard was studying a brochure with the Jaguar logo on the cover. Ah, that explained it. Spike had a new car; obviously he’d want to show it off to other guys. Testosterone bonding.
The tour of the other rooms was fairly cursory. The bedrooms and bathrooms were luxurious, but impersonal. The largest bedroom was dominated by a huge round bed. ‘Definite scope for exotic boinking positions’, Buffy thought lustfully. However, it wasn’t the bedroom Spike had chosen for his own use. “Too fancy for me, Slayer,” he told her. “The whole place is much too big for me on my own. I’d feel lost in that room. And I wouldn’t know which way to sleep in a round bed. Bit silly, if you ask me. But it could come in handy having the extra bedrooms. I’ll invite Giles to stay here while he’s over, and maybe one or two of Anya’s wedding guests. Not fair for them to be squashing the relatives in with them just when they could do with a bit of space to get ready for the wedding.”
Buffy tried to hide her pout. She wanted to try out that round bed, and she very definitely didn’t want to be boinking Spike here if Giles was staying over. Why couldn’t Giles stay in a hotel? Except that she knew Spike’s suggestion made sense. She’d wished that he would change his attitude, make an effort to get along with the Scoobies, and she could hardly complain if occasionally that conflicted with her own desires. Which were selfish and greedy anyway, bad Buffy, no biscuit.
Or rather no Cajun Blackened Chicken. Spike had cooked New Orleans style, although he credited a British TV chef called Gary Rhodes with the particular recipe he’d used. The chicken, the side dishes, the little snacks, and the dips, all were delicious. He’d also displayed remarkable thoughtfulness, putting the items which conflicted with Sophie’s dietary restrictions in clearly marked bowls and pointing them out to her beforehand. He’d remembered her statement from the previous party; which Buffy found particularly impressive as she herself had forgotten all about it apart from a vague memory that Sophie didn’t eat peanuts, although she doubted if her former co-worker was really allergic to nuts or the Double Meat atmosphere would have given her anaphylactic shock long ago. More likely Sophie’s mother had read about the condition and gotten paranoid about it.
‘So, new improved Spike is all thoughtful and caring and considerate of others, way to go Spike, definitely of the good’, Buffy thought. Except, he was being somewhat standoffish towards her. ‘Must be still thinking I don’t want anyone to know about our relationship. Dumb guy. Everything’s different now he’s human, surely he realises that? Although, coming clean about having been boinking him while he was a vampire, maybe not terribly of the good, so smart of Spike keeping discreet about it. Still, enough already with the discretion. Time for some flirting’.
This would have to be fitted in with ‘Scattergories’ or ‘Trivial Pursuit’; both of which Spike produced, once the food was finished, and then suggested that they divide up into two groups. Somehow Buffy ended up playing ‘Trivial Pursuit’ with Xander, Anya, Richard, and Clem; Spike was in the other group, playing ‘Scattergories’. Bummer. No Spike flirties. And Clem won the ‘Trivial Pursuit’ game with ease.
A break in which Spike served home-made Pavlova; delicious thick cream, melt in the mouth meringue, juicy strawberries. An ideal opportunity for Spike flirties; except that Spike disappeared for a while with Richard! They seemed to be plotting something. Huh? What gives? Whatever it was, Spike wasn’t the only one who could plot. Buffy snatched a quick private word with Dawn; her sister was enjoying the party, and would have been inclined to delay going home for as long as possible, but she was also all in favour of Buffy and Spike getting together, and agreed to drag Janice away at a reasonable time and to get someone not Buffy to take them home.
After the dessert Spike put Green Day’s ‘International Superhits’ on his stereo and they chatted for a while before resuming the board games. Completely innocuous chat, not a single opportunity for a flirtatious remark. For Buffy, anyway; Willow and Tara found plenty of opportunities, aided and abetted by Spike, who seemed to be working to get the two estranged lovers back together. Okay, that would be cool, but not what Buffy wanted Spike to be doing. ‘Hello, another pair of lovers in the room who could do with getting back together, thank you very much, Spike’. Buffy seethed with impatience.
Dawn announced that she should be getting home, homework to finish, and steamrollered over Janice’s objections. Spike volunteered to drive the girls home; he owed Dawn a drive in the Jaguar anyway. Dawn didn’t really have an answer to that, and was torn between her loyalty to her sister and her eagerness to sit in those leather seats. Luckily Richard spoke up, saying that he was going soon anyway and he could take them, it wouldn’t be fair on Spike to have to go out from his own party. Buffy shot him a delighted smile, so much so that she almost caused him to reconsider leaving. It worked out well in the end, Richard left with the two girls and also with Sophie, and Clem excused himself to go to a late-night kitten poker game. That was more like it.
They played ‘Scattergories’ again, but now that there were only adults remaining some of the answers became rather risqué. Definite flirting between Tara and Willow, very suggestive conversation between Xander and Anya, and now that it was down to a group consisting entirely of young adults who knew each other well Xander’s occasional embarrassment about Anya’s sexual frankness disappeared. He loosened up enough to make some fairly blue remarks himself. As did Buffy. Not Spike, however. He was remarkably restrained. ‘Overkill there, Halfrek,’ Buffy thought. ‘I said no swearing, not no innuendo and no double meanings’.
Eventually Xander declared that it was time for him and Anya to leave. Work the next day, an apartment gradually filling up with relatives who all hated each other, they couldn’t stay late. Nearly there. Just Willow and Tara to get rid of; and, the way they were looking at each other, the two girls disappearing into one of the spare bedrooms and leaving Buffy alone with Spike could well be on the cards anyway. The La Perla undies could be on display very shortly.
Or not. As soon as the engaged pair had departed, Spike revealed that he had something he wanted to discuss with all three girls. Anya’s bachelorette party.
“We’re not really having one,” Buffy revealed. “A bridal shower, yeah, presents and a few drinks, just us girls, Dawn, Mrs. Schiapparelli from the Small Businesses Association, and I suppose we’ve got to have Halfrek. Next Thursday. But not a bachelorette party as such.”
“Thought so. Well, she let slip enough to me to let me know she really wants one, with lots of guests and all the trimmings. Naughty games, saucy undies, sex toys, male strippers with bulging muscles, the works. I’m setting up a bachelor do for Xander, at her suggestion, and I’ll do the same for her. But I’ll need your help.”
“I’m not having male strippers at anything with Dawn there,” Buffy protested, bridling at the suggestion.
“So the party’s in two stages,” Spike suggested. “Up till ten, say, it’s the bridal shower. Then Nibblet goes home, and the naughty bits start. I’ll get a taxi booked for her, bribe her to not moan. Give her an X-Box, maybe? Or a PC, then she could use it for homework as well as games.”
“You can’t do that, Spike, it’s far too much,” Buffy protested.
“Go on, Slayer, let me spoil the Bit a little,” Spike urged her, eyes twinkling. “What’s the point of having all this dosh otherwise? Anyway, got to be enough to make sure that it makes up for her feeling she’s missing out on something.”
“Maybe,” Buffy conceded. “Look, Spike – William – will you for God’s sake stop calling me ‘Slayer’ all the time?”
Spike frowned. “Okay, Buffy,” he agreed. “But I’ve been calling you ‘Slayer’ for five years, why start objecting now?”
“You’ve called me other things,” Buffy pointed out. ‘Like ‘cutie’, and ‘pet’, and ‘love’, and ‘goldilocks’, for instance,’ she thought, but decided not to go into that in front of Tara and Willow. “Anyway, you think Anya would really like that sort of bachelorette party?” she returned to the original subject.
“She would, I’m sure,” Tara confirmed.
“Especially if it was really embarrassing for everybody,” Willow agreed, a touch of cattiness coming out, and then she grinned impishly. “Could be kinda fun, I guess.” She glanced at Tara, the smile fading. “Although, maybe not so much with the male strippers.”
Tara smiled back at her. “I think it could be kind of fun too. Something to laugh at. Some things to laugh at.”
“Hey!” Spike protested. “They’re not for laughing at. Well, okay, maybe they are. Apart from mine. So, you up for it then? I can book the strippers through the same agency as I’m getting the girls for Xander’s do from, I’ll pay for anything else you want. Fix up sitters for the kids for couples where mum and dad are both going to be at a do. As long as it’ll give Anya a good night, I’ll cover it.”
“Why?” Buffy asked, genuinely puzzled. Spike gave her an odd look, and she realised that her question, put that baldly, sounded insulting. “I – I mean, you and Anya, not all that friendly, I thought. And you never got on with Xander. Why are you volunteering to do all this?”
“Shows how much you know, Slayer – Buffy,” he replied, sounding offended. “Only time I was ever at odds with Anya was when I was pinching things from the shop, and she’d got every reason to be mad at me for that. Since this happened to me she’s been a massive help to me. Don’t know if I could have coped otherwise. She’s explained a lot. Like how to pay off the credit cards. I knew how to use them all right, but I had no idea how you paid for it. See, only cards I’d ever used before were stolen. Didn’t feel I could ask any of the rest of you, would have looked too much of an idiot. She explained it all, told me she’d had to ask all the same questions. See, she’s been through it all herself. And Xander, well, I’ve always thought he’s a decent bloke. All this time fighting along with you, putting his life on the line when he hasn’t got any super powers, just loyalty and a whole lot of guts. Wouldn’t have told him, of course, but it’s what I thought. And we were getting on pretty well last summer. Thought so, anyway, until the thing with you coming back and him keeping it from me. That messed it up.”
“Because I told him to,” Willow put in, eyes lowered. “I’m sorry. You were right all along. My fault.”
Spike smiled at her. “It’s okay, Red. All water under the bridge. We’ve all done stupid things along the way. Me more than anyone else. But if you can forgive me – well, as far as I’m concerned, the way you all stood by me yesterday in the Magic Box makes up for everything. We can start again, with a clean slate, and if you want me to be your friend I am. Anything I can do for any of you, I will.”
“A clean slate,” Willow repeated sadly, remembering the Tabula Rasa spell she had cast with such disastrous results. “If only I could have that. If you could forgive me.” She looked to Tara and Buffy, biting her lip. “I’ve done so much harm. Been so wrong, so stupid.”
Buffy and Tara both spoke at once, and then both stopped and looked at each other. Buffy dipped her head and gestured, giving way to Tara, who spoke softly.
“And you’ve admitted it. That’s all I wanted you to do. I’ve missed you so much, sweetie. Come back to me.” She opened her arms and Willow flew into them, tears streaming down her face, and the two girls embraced and wept and smiled.
Buffy looked at Spike, and saw that he was looking at the two lovers with a gentle, sweet, smile. Her breath caught in her throat. This was the Spike she had seen in the first days after she had returned from the dead; gentle, supportive, caring. A man she could love.
“And I forgive you, Willow,” she said, as the other girls’ embrace slackened. “I think everything’s worked out all right in the end. I don’t want to resent you any more. I want my best friend back.” Willow raised her teary face from Tara’s shoulder and extended her arm to Buffy, pulling her into the hug.
When at last the three girls broke apart, Willow turned to Spike, who was still watching them with that gentle smile. “You gave me the courage to say it, Spike,” she told him, and grabbed him in a tight embrace. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he protested, still smiling, and returning her hug. Tara joined Willow, and Buffy joined in too. “Second soggy group hug in two days,” he joked. “That’s me kicked out of the Big Bad union, for sure.” He kissed Willow on the forehead, and did the same to Tara; hesitated a moment, and then planted a soft kiss on Buffy’s forehead too.
Willow touched her fingers to his cheek. “I know magic always has consequences. I won’t forget it. But this thing with you turning human – I don’t see the bad. It’s like a miracle.”
“Miracle. Oh God.” Spike began to laugh, a horrible mirthless laugh that began to turn into sobs, and pulled away from the girls. They released him, and looked up at him worriedly. “Sorry,” he choked out. “Didn’t want to spoil the mood, but – ‘no bad’. God, that is so – I can’t do this.”
“What’s the matter, William?” Tara asked gently. “Tell us, please.”
“You know, don’t you? You’ve seen me like this before. I let my guard down sometimes. Spike isn’t the real me. Spike is a suit of armour I built to protect myself from the ways the world hurt me. Now it’s all shattered to pieces, and everything hurts.” Tears began to stream down his cheeks. “I’m frightened. Me. I wasn’t scared of anything for myself. Only scared of losing the people I cared about. But now – I’m dying. I was going to live forever, and now I’m going to die. I might get sick, get hit by a car, get killed in a fight, and even if I don’t I’m going to die. Going to get old, and weak, and die. Whoever or whatever did this to me has killed me as surely as if they’d stuck a stake through my heart. And Heaven? I killed, what, two or three a week for a hundred and twenty years, you think I’ll go to Heaven? I’m going to die, and go to Hell, and I’m scared out of my fucking mind. Why couldn’t this have happened to Angel? It’s what he wanted. I just wanted to be friends with you lot, and I could have been if you’d realised it wasn’t just the chip keeping me good by now. In the beginning, yeah, but I was past that. Why couldn’t I have it without being condemned to death?”
Buffy stood frozen, mouth open. She hadn’t missed the swearword, which by the terms of her wish could only be coming from Spike’s mouth if he was genuinely in the grip of strong emotion or pain. What had she done? It had never occurred to her that he might feel like this, that he might be anything else but overjoyed to be human and wealthy. If he found out that she was responsible, how would he react?
Tara took hold of Spike and gently led him to the couch, urging him to sit, then sat beside him and held him to her breast. “Maybe our friendship, our love, can’t make up for you losing your immortality, William,” she told him tenderly, “but it’s all we can give you. Please don’t cry.”
“It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to,” Spike muttered petulantly, between sobs. A half smile appeared on his face briefly, but faded away again.
“I’ll research, see if we can find any way to turn you back,” Willow offered eagerly. “Other than the usual, that is. See, not thinking that’s a good idea, because you might not be the same person afterwards. But maybe we can break the spell, if it is a spell.”
“Come here, Red,” Spike commanded, and she obeyed with alacrity. He hugged the two girls. “Soppy git that I am,” he scolded himself. “Maybe it is worth being condemned to death for after all. Love you both, pets. I know you’ll do everything you can.” He released them, freed himself gently from their embrace, and stood up. “Think I’ll wash my face, get rid of these wimpy tears. Then I’ll run you home, girls. Sorry to have been such a wet blanket.”
“I don’t think he should be left alone tonight,” Tara observed, looking with concern in the direction in which Spike had departed for the bathroom.
“We could stay with him,” Willow volunteered. “Plenty of spare bedrooms. And I want to be with you tonight anyway.” She flushed, and lowered her eyes. “If you’d like that, that is.”
Buffy shook herself free of the stasis which had gripped her. “No, I’ll stay”.
“It’s okay, Buffy, we’ll stay with him,” Willow piped up.
“Shush, sweetie,” Tara said softly, giving her hand a squeeze. “It’s what she wants. We can still spend the night together.”
“What she –?” Willow looked at Tara, saw her give Buffy a smile which was both knowing and approving, and caught on at last. “Oh. Yeah. I get it. Yeah, you stay, Buff. Have I been missing something?”
“You have,” Buffy admitted. “Spike, and me, well, we’ve been having a thing.”
Buffy’s confession was interrupted by the door opening and Spike stepping back into the room. “Right, girls, sorry about the blub fest. I’m feeling okay now, but I’m a bit tired. I don’t like kicking you out, but if you’re ready to go I’ll run you home now.”
“We don’t think you should be alone tonight, Spike.” Buffy sat down. “You can take Willow and Tara home, but I’m staying.”
“No, you’re not,” he told her flatly, his face unreadable.
“You need someone,” she said firmly. She knew there would be no boinking, no shagging, it was comfort that he needed; but she could hold him, and perhaps they would make love.
“I need -” he began, and then he chopped himself off short and shut his mouth tight like a trap.
“You need what, Spike?” Buffy pressed.
“You don’t want to know,” he stonewalled. He knew what he needed. He needed Joyce Summers. She would have made him hot chocolate, and sat with him, and listened to his fears, and it would have felt better. But she was dead, suddenly and senselessly; her body had just stopped, and the same thing would happen to him one day. He didn’t want to tell Buffy his thoughts; he didn’t want to bring back her own grief. And he definitely didn’t want to take the kind of comfort he thought she might be offering.
His eyes went to the shelf where the housewarming presents were sitting, among them a tin of Ghirardelli Old Fashioned Hot Chocolate, which had been the gift from Buffy, and a pack of marshmallows from Dawn. He fought back tears. It seemed as if he’d done almost nothing but cry lately. God, the girls must despise him. He was such a weak pathetic excuse for a man.
“I do want to know, Spike. Tell me,” Buffy insisted.
Tara followed Spike’s eyes, and guessed some of his thoughts. She also could see that Buffy was beginning to get annoyed, which was exactly what Spike didn’t need right now. “It’s all right, Buffy,” she spoke up for him. “You go. I’ll take care of him. You go too, Willow.”
“But Tara, I thought we were going to spend the night together,” Willow protested.
“Tomorrow, sweetie. For now, go home, and get things ready for me to move back in.” Tara told her gently but firmly. “If that’s all right with you, Buffy,” she added, remembering her manners.
Buffy’s face lit up. “Of course it’s all right,” she beamed. “Dawn’s missed you a lot. And so have I. It will be so good to have you back.”
Willow pouted, not altogether happy with Tara’s decision, but then she looked at Spike’s face and saw the unhappiness there, saw the tension in his shoulders, recognised that her lover felt that she could help where Willow and Buffy could not, and realised that Tara was probably correct in that belief. This was part of what she loved in Tara, the gentle compassion with a core of steely determination, and she relented. “Come on, Buff, walk me home,” she said. “Goodnight, Tara, my love. Goodnight, Spike. Hope you feel better about things soon, and, got to say, up until we upset you it was about the best party I’ve ever been to.”
She kissed Tara goodnight, and then did the same to Spike. Buffy followed suit, although Spike turned his head so she could only kiss his cheek, causing her to feel miffed again, but she shrugged off the feeling. He was going through a lot, no need to get upset if he was a little cold in front of the others, after all he wasn’t to know she’d told them about the relationship, or in the case of Willow had started to tell her about it. She would tell her friend more on the way home.
Tara set a mug of hot chocolate down in front of Spike, who was sitting at the kitchen island, and sat down opposite him holding a mug of her own. “You miss Joyce, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Spike sighed, and took a long drink of the chocolate. “Hey, this is really good,” he said in a surprised voice, smiling at Tara. “Couldn’t really taste it before, you know. Just drank it because it was warm, and comforting, and Joyce expected me to.”
Tara raised her eyebrows. “We all thought you loved it.”
“Nah. It was Joyce that I loved. Drank it after she – died,” he stumbled over the word, “– because it reminded me of her. And ‘cause you, and the Bit, made it for me.” He took another drink. “You know, what really hurts is that we weren’t talking when she died. I was stupid enough to let Buffy find out that I loved her, and she got Willow to do the uninvite spell, and then I did that crazy thing with Dru, and next time I saw Joyce she wouldn’t speak to me, not that I blame her. And I never got the chance to tell her how sorry I was before she was gone. Couldn’t even go to her funeral.”
“I’m sure she knew, William. I know she’d have forgiven you,” Tara said soothingly, not sure if she really believed what she was saying but feeling that it was what Spike needed to hear. Then something about what Spike had said struck a jarring note in her memory. Something about the timing seemed wrong. “Wait a minute, did you say that she got the uninvite spell done and then you did the thing with Drusilla? Chaining Buffy up came after the spell?”
Spike frowned. “Yes. We came out of the crypt, and I followed her home trying to explain and apologise, and I tried to walk into the house after her and went bang into the barrier. Didn’t you know?”
“So it was just because you’d told her you loved her?” Tara’s brow furrowed. “That was harsh. I’d always thought it was because of the chains thing.” She smiled at him once more. “I’m glad it’s all worked out right for you in the end.”
“What do you mean?” Spike asked, genuinely baffled.
“Your thing with Buffy. She told me all about it. You know. Why’d you think I was teasing you about the ‘muscle cramps’ at her party? She’d told me just a few days before. She was worried about it, I think she thought I’d tell her it was wrong, but I told her it was okay.” Tara’s smile faltered as she saw hurt in Spike’s eyes, and saw him drawing back from her and recoiling inside himself. “What’s wrong, William? I was on your side. I told her you’d done a lot of good, and you really loved her.”
“And that made what she’d done right?” he asked, shocked. “What, just because I was a vampire, and I loved her, it was okay to treat me like that?”
“Like what?” Tara realised that something was wrong, that Spike wasn’t talking about the sex, and that Buffy hadn’t told her everything at all. “She told me the chip didn’t work on her, and you’d been having sex, and she said a few things that made me think the sex was a bit, well, kinky. What didn’t she tell me? Tell me, Spike – William. I am your friend, really. I meant it was okay for her to love you. Okay for her to sleep with you, I wouldn’t think less of her for it. What did she do to you?”
“Beat me to a pulp. Broke me. Left me lying in an alley, unconscious, for the sun to find me. I only made it home with ten minutes to spare, still hadn’t healed a week later.” Spike gripped his mug tightly, his knuckles white.
Tara saw them, and remembered Buffy’s hands on the night she had made her confession, knuckles scraped and raw; she remembered Spike’s battered face at the birthday party; and she knew that Spike was telling the truth. “Dear goddess!” she exclaimed in a whisper, shocked and upset.
“Okay, I’d done a stupid thing,” the young man went on. “I deserved to be thumped, maybe. I was only trying to protect her, but I’d screwed up as usual. I could have taken the beating. I knew she had a lot of anger to work out, told her to put it all on me, thought I could take it. But she never even said she was sorry. Didn’t even invite me to her party, that was Willow. She told me I was an evil dead thing, and she could never be my girl, and there was nothing good or clean in me. I was just convenient. I took it, and I came back for more, kept hoping she’d see that I loved her. But now – I think she’s taken everything, and there’s nothing left. I can’t do it any more.”
“You d-d-don’t love her any m-more,” Tara stammered, suddenly understanding why Spike had seemed uncharacteristically cold towards Buffy during the evening. She was shocked. Spike’s love for Buffy had come to seem one of those unchanging constants of the universe, like the law of gravity.
“I don’t,” he admitted. “I hadn’t meant to tell you. I wanted to tell her first, only right to do that. Sorry it came out. I still care for her. Still admire her, you know. Love the person she was, last year. I still want to be her friend. She stood up for me to Captain Cardboard, even though she thought I was still a vampire, which meant a lot to me. But I don’t love her any more. I’m frightened of her, even. And I’ve met someone else.”
“So, you and Spike, huh? And I’m guessing it’s not just since he turned human. Spill,” Willow urged her friend as they walked away from the apartment block and towards Revello Drive.
“Yeah, me and Spike. How weird is that? Him vampire, me Slayer. Well, him not vampire now, but, yeah, it’s not since he turned human. Fact is, we haven’t had any time alone together since that happened. But before that …” Buffy looked at Willow, expecting to see condemnation in her gaze, but saw only an inquisitive gleam in her eyes and an impish smile. “Yeah, there was boinkage.”
“I’m guessing it was pretty good,” Willow smirked. “Major sparkage between you two, didn’t dare let my iBook anywhere near in case it fried the hard drive. But why’d you keep it such a secret? Why didn’t you tell me? Hey, best friend here, supposed to share things like that.”
“I thought you’d be all judgemental. All ‘evil vampire, you must be crazy’. You’re really okay with it?”
“Sure. Why’d you think I invited him to your party?”
Buffy stopped dead in her tracks. “What? You actually wanted us to get together?”
“Thought it was worth a try, maybe it would thaw you out. You were so frozen. Plus, I felt bad about the way I’d been treating Spike, was trying to make up for it. Inviting him to the party, so much easier than saying ‘you were right, I was wrong, can we be friends again?’ You know me, not too good at admitting when I’m wrong, and he gets all snarky and rude. Or would have. I think. Whatever. Anyway, I thought you getting some orgasms might bring back the Buffy we loved.”
“And the massager you got me was a back-up in case I didn’t get them from Spike, huh, Will? Channelling Anya much?”
Willow laughed. “Maybe. And hey, the past couple of days you’ve been yourself again. So, did it work, or was it the money from your Dad and getting out of the Double Meat thing that’s made the diff?”
“The money, and the letter, and quitting the job, mainly,” Buffy replied. “And maybe the news about Spike turning human. See, I’d been boinking Spike for weeks before that. Didn’t help. Feeling good for a few minutes at a time – well, a few hours at a time – but then feeling guilty, and ashamed, and sneaking around hiding it from all of you. If I’d known you’d be all ‘go Buffy, boink the undead’ it might have been different. You’d really have been cool with it? Evil, soulless Spike?”
“Might not have been ‘go Buffy’, but I’d have dealt. See, I’ve always kinda liked Spike, even when he was all ‘grrr arrgh’, and we had got to be pretty much friends last summer. Except that I was all going behind his back, but let’s not go into that now. Anyway, Spike, not so much with the evil these days. No soul to lose, so no goldfish issues. And who’s caused the most trouble lately? Me, Amy, and three stupid nerds. All positive on the soul having. I’d have dealt. Okay, Xander might have had a hard time dealing, but I could have handled him. Wish you’d told me.”
“Me too,” Buffy sighed. “Anyway, human now, no vampire issues. No boinkage either, lately. Two days he’s been human and not even any smoochies, just a kiss on the cheek. I got new underwear specially, and he hasn’t even seen it.”
“Know how you feel. Me and Tara, back together, and I’m still sleeping alone tonight. Roll on tomorrow.” Willow frowned. “Three stupid nerds. That reminds me. Decided what we’re going to do about Warren being The Doctor? Sam gave me an e-mail address; want me to let them know?”
Buffy shook her head. “Not yet. Think I’d better talk it over with Giles. See, I’m thinking he’d end up cutting a deal, and that way lies invisible robot demons and other badness. Warren, and the Initiative, not mixy things. I’m thinking more him ending up behind a glass wall, don’t pass him anything with staples, walk on the other side of the corridor, tasteful hockey mask sorta thing. But kinda need proof for that, and cops who aren’t dumb, and we’re a bit short of both.”
“Yeah,” Willow agreed glumly, and then perked up. “Enough about him. Back on topic. So, you got new undies special for the first boinkage with human Spike? What’re they like?”
“So the ‘Spike’ persona was your suit of armour? The leather coat, and the ‘sodding bollocks’, and the whole bad boy thing, all a front?” Tara picked up the empty mugs and rose from her chair.
“More or less. Everybody does it, I suppose. Xander’s jokes, Rupert’s whole ‘stiff upper lip’ thing, Anya’s ‘I love money’, and Buffy – she’s built a whole wall, complete with barbed wire on the top and guard dogs. Even you. You hide the real you behind the stammer, and the way you let your hair fall across your face to hide the most gorgeous eyes on the planet.”
“Hey! Less of that!” Tara protested, smiling delightedly. “I’m trying to mother you here and that’s not helping. Also, gay, remember?”
“How could I forget when I’ve cursed that fact so many times?” Spike continued to tease her.
“Stop it, you wicked man,” she scolded, with a twinkle in her eyes. “I’ll put these in the dishwasher and then head for bed.”
“Me too. I’ll run you back to your place to pick up clean clothes in the morning,” Spike offered. “Then take you on to the College if you like. I’ve got that interview there at ten thirty, might as well go early and hang around. Or I could still run you home tonight if you’d rather.”
“I’ll stay here, thanks. If you get any more attacks of existential dread I’ll be here for you.” She loaded the mugs into the dishwasher and set off out of the kitchen. “My first class tomorrow isn’t till ten, so you won’t even have too long to wait. Goodnight, William.”