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Home Is Where They Have to Let You In by slaymesoftly
 
Seven
 
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Chapter Seven

“What?” he said. “What’s wrong?”

                 “Willow?” Buffy’s voice echoed his. “What’s wrong? Doesn’t he have a soul?”

                 “Oh yeah,” Willow said, letting Bob take his hand back and blowing out the fire. “He’s got one all right, but….”

                 “But what?”

                “What’s wrong with it?” he demanded.

                 “No…nothing’s wrong exactly. It’s just that I think it might be… used.”

                 “Used?”

                 “I mean, it… it may have been used before. By somebody else.”  She looked back and forth again between the frowning vampire and Buffy. “I need to… I need to consult with the coven. I might want to bring someone else back to… I just need to learn more about recycled souls.”

“Recycled?  You mean reincarnation?”

“Well, yeah. Sort of. Except that I can’t imagine anybody being reincarnated as a vampire.”

“Willow, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing. I mean, I’ve got nothing to tell you. Nothing that you… Nothing. Big nothing. Unless I find out… and then it might be a something… But, you know, probably not? I’ll be back as soon as I know if it’s a something or a nothing.”

“You’re babbling,” Dawn said, crossing her arms. “That’s never a good sign.”

“Is there something wrong with me?” Bob’s voice broke through the round of staring and frowning going on between the three women. There was the faintest rumbling coming from his chest, causing Dawn and Willow to step back and Buffy to put her hand back on his shoulder. It was a gentle touch, but there was no question that she was restraining him. He sighed and slumped down. “Sorry,” he mumbled, looking up at Willow and Dawn from under stubby lashes that were just beginning to grow back.

“It’s okay,” Willow said. “I was babbling as if I’d found something wrong. I didn’t, though. You do have a soul, so that’s why you’re not trying to kill everybody, and that’s why it’s okay for Buffy to have you in the house.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, I was just… surprised for a minute. That’s all. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this.”

“For what?” Buffy’s voice was growing more impatient.

Willow drew herself up and took a deep breath.  “Probably for nothing. And that’s all I’m telling you for right now. He has a soul. That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? Now you know why he hasn’t been feeding, and why he tried not to hurt the slayers.  I’ll tell Giles and he can stop worrying about you.”

Dawn accompanied Willow up the stairs and walked her to the door. “What aren’t you telling us?” she asked, fixing her old friend with the Dawn Summers version of ‘resolve face’. Willow put on her own face and said, “I’m not telling you something that you don’t need to hear if it turns out to be nothing.”

They exchanged stubborn stares, then burst into giggles.

“Fine,” Dawn said, unfolding her arms. “Keep your secrets. See if I care.”

“It’s not a secret, Dawnie. It’s just something I’d rather keep to myself for right now. I swear.”

“Uh huh.” Dawn watched Willow walk away, then closed the door and went to join Buffy, who was now in the kitchen putting together what seemed to be the world’s largest first aid kit.

“What are you doing?”

“What I should have done when he was out like a light and couldn’t feel anything – cleaning those wounds and putting bandages on them so his clothes don’t rub against them while they heal.”

Buffy scooped up the bag of supplies and heading downstairs again “I’ll fix dinner when I get back up here,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“I’ll cook tonight,” Dawn volunteered, laughing when Buffy groaned.  “It’s the least I can do.”

“She’s got that right,” Buffy muttered as she came around the corner. Bob was just setting his empty mug on the floor, and glanced at her.

“What’ve you got there, Slayer?”

“Stuff.”  She set the bag down and began taking things out, arranging them neatly on the floor. “Pain killers,” she said, handing him two pills and a small bottle of water. “Take one.  I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner. Tomorrow I’ll ask Willow for some herbal pain relievers to put on the burns, but for right now, this old OxyContin ought to do the trick. I doubt it’s going to hurt a vampire.”

While Bob obediently swallowed one of the pills, she continued to unpack. “Wound cleaning stuff, salve, and bandages. You’ll be a lot more comfortable when I’m done.”

He was silent, staring dubiously at the collection of medical supplies in front of them. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, Buffy, but getting out of my old clothes and into these wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Not really looking forward to shucking these so that you can play Florence Nightingale.”  When she didn’t say anything, but got a stubborn expression on her face, he added, “Not to mention, if you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask…”

“Not funny, Bob.”  She bit her lip as she accepted the reality of his words, finally sighing and saying, “All right. I’m not really interested in making you hurt more than you already do.  But if I wrap the ones that are still open—”

“Was only half-kidding about getting naked, Slayer. Put the clothes on because your friend was coming over, but I’d have rather stayed out of them for a while.  If I just had something to cover myself with when you have to come down, I’d be better off without clothes until all the oozing things have stopped… oozing.”

Buffy studied him, seeing no sign of anything but an honest desire to please her without causing himself additional pain. He was unconsciously pulling fabric away from the wound on his leg, grimacing when it seemed to stick for a second.

“That actually makes an odd kind of sense,” she said finally. “Okay, if you can stand to pull your clothes off one more time, I’ll go get you a sheet or something for when you have visitors, and you can just be all nature boy down here until they’ve scarred over.”

When she returned, a soft cotton sheet in her hand, as well as a light blanket and a pillow, he was holding the sweatpants in front of his body and still wearing the shirt.  Buffy handed him the sheet, turning her back while he dropped the sweats and wrapped the sheet loosely around his hips. A soft groan brought her back around to find him struggling to pull the tee-shirt over his head.  With a sigh of relief, he dropped it to the floor, letting his arms dangle at his sides.

Buffy studied him with a clinical eye. With the sheet draped precariously around his slender hips, there was nothing remotely sexual or  attractive about the body in front of her. Although it had filled out a little after two days of steady meals, it was still painfully thin and lacking any muscle definition. Clearly, Bob’s ability to fight his way out of the slayer attack had been based, as he’d said, on adrenaline-fueled speed and a lack of coordination on the part of his attackers.

With his scrawny body, coupled with the sores and scars that covered him from head to toe, and his inability or unwillingness to feed on humans, there was little to envy in the miserable being in front of her. Once again, Buffy had to wonder if it wouldn’t have been a kindness to have staked him while he was unconscious.  Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, as Bob pulled the sheet up higher on his body and shrank back into the alcove.

“I’m doing better, Slayer. I promise you.” The fear in his voice snapped her out of the dark place her thoughts had wandered, and she flinched in sympathy. The very fact that he now wanted to live, versus his “Just leave me alone to die in peace” of less than two days ago, was proof that he was speaking the truth.

“I can see that,” Buffy said. “I didn’t mean to look at you like you were—”

“Something the cat dragged in?”

Buffy sighed and picked up his shirt and pants.  “I’ll just put these in the next load of laundry,” she said, avoiding a response to his question. “That way, they’ll be all ready to wear when you think you’ve healed enough to wear clothes again.”

She eyed the dirty mattress upon which he was about to lie down. “I should have brought two sheets,” she muttered.  “I’ll be right back.” 

She was back with a few minutes, asking him somewhat apologetically if he would get up for a minute so that she could put a bottom sheet over the mattress. Wearing the awed expression that was making her more and more uncomfortable every time she saw it, he got up without comment, clutching his sheet around his body and standing patiently until she had covered the stained mattress.

“That’s better,” she said with satisfaction. “It might not be as fun as cuddling with Roscoe, but it sure looks more comfy.”

“Roscoe’s appeal is highly over-rated,” he replied, grimacing as he lowered himself back onto the bed. “I’ll take clean sheets and solitude any day.”

“And on that cheery note, I’m going to go get you some more blood and then force myself to eat whatever Dawn has conjured up for our dinner.” She bit her lip. “It’s possible it will be less disgusting than your dinner, but I’m not counting on it.”

The sound of genuine laughter followed her up the stairs and she emerged from the basement smiling to herself. At Dawn’s quizzical look, she shrugged and said, “I think he’s feeling better.  I’m going to take him some more blood before we eat.”  She peered into the pan on the stove.  “What are we eating, exactly?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Slayer here. Not a big fan of surprises.”

“Don’t be such a coward.  Just throw some more blood at your pet vamp and get back up here.”  She continued stirring while Buffy ran back down with another mug of blood and quickly returned.

“Okay. I’m braced for it.  What are we having?”

“Chicken soup. From a can, you big sissy.”  Buffy sigh of relief was only slightly exaggerated, and caused Dawn to flick soup off her spoon into her sister’s face.



               A couple of hours later, when Buffy, carrying another mug of warm blood, made her final trip of the night, she was pleased to find Bob sitting up and looking around the cellar with eyes that were at once curious and oddly content.  Twisting his scarred mouth into as close as it could get to a smile, he thanked her and took the cup. For the first time since he’d begun feeding himself, he didn’t throw the contents down his throat as soon as he got them. Instead, he took a deep draught, then set it down and savored the feeling as it went through his body, repairing damage and soothing pain.

“I see you’re enjoying your drugs,” Buffy said, giggling at the blissed out expression in his eyes.

He nodded. “Hadn’t realized how depressing it was to be in that much pain until it wasn’t so bad anymore.” He managed to look both pleased and ashamed at the same time. “I took the other pill… might have been unnecessary….” He gave what, on a less disfigured face, would probably have been a goofy smile. “But it’s doing a bloody good job.”

Buffy stopped giggling. “I’m sorry I didn’t think of giving you something for the pain before. I could have crushed them up in your blood or something. I’m just not in the habit of worrying about vampires and pain….”

“Wouldn’t expect you to be, luv,” he said.  “Stop apologizin’ to me. It’s… unnatural, is what it is.” He seemed quite proud of himself for coming to that conclusion.

“How would you know what’s ‘natural’ or not for me? Or for vampires, for that matter.”

He gave one of his one-shouldered shrugs, causing Buffy to look more closely at his bare shoulders and see that the right one had both an abundance of scar tissue and a newer wound that was just scabbing over.  No wonder he groaned when he was taking that shirt off.

“Dunno,” he said. “Just doesn’t seem right, somehow.”


“Well, I wouldn’t get too used to it. I’m sure it’s going to wear off pretty soon.” 

               He snorted a laugh and nodded. “I’ll be looking for it, then.”

Buffy studied him for a few moments, smiling at the spaced out expressions that crossed his face every once in a while.  She shifted her gaze to the heavily scarred torso visible above the sheet.  “Do they hurt too?” she asked abruptly. “The scars, I mean. They look… painful.”

He looked down at his body, then tried to lift one arm, wincing when he did so. “Yeah,” he said. “They don’t have any give like normal skin would. Actually split a couple of them open when I was tryin’ to get away from your little vampire killer students.”

“Slayers. We’re slayers, not killers. And oww.”

He gave another one-shouldered shrug. “If you’re right, I guess they’ll go away some day.” He looked up at her. “You’re the expert on vampire healing.”

“I think Dawn might know more about that than I do, actually. Except for… I’ve always been more into causing vamps injury than worrying about how fast their boo-boos were going to get better.”

“You think these are boo-boos?” He stood up, holding his sheet over his crotch, but allowing the rest of his body to be visible in the dim light from the stairs.  Buffy bit her lip, but couldn’t prevent her eyes from running over him. Her flinch and accompanying shudder were unconscious and instinctive as she shut her eyes. He gave a small snort of disgust and sat down, keeping his privates covered with the sheet.

“Look,” she said, her rigid posture not giving away if she was angry or just embarrassed, “I’m not all with the warm, fuzzy stuff, okay? You’re not dust, I didn’t cause any of those wounds, and I’m feeding you.  I know you’ve got no idea where that puts you on the scale of ‘Buffy and her treatment of vampires’, but right now? You’re so far ahead of the one who’d actually done something to deserve to be treated better….” She stopped and took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak again, thought better of it and just sighed.

“I’m going to bed. I’ll bring you another pill in the morning before I go to work.”  She gave him a glare that promised serious retribution if he disobeyed. “Don’t do anything stupid just because the pills are making you feel better. They haven’t healed anything.”

He nodded, leaning back on one elbow. “’m not a complete fool, Slayer. And I do appreciate what you’re doing for me. It’s more than I deserve, I’ve no doubt. Whatever I can do to pay you back, you’ve got it. I’ll be in your debt for the rest of our lives.”

Embarrassed by the emotion in his gaze, she mumbled, “Just don’t do anything to make me sorry I didn’t stake you,” and went upstairs without her usual “good-night”.

Bob settled back on his pillow and watched dust motes floating around in the wake of Buffy’s swift exit, a blissful expression in his eyes and as close to a smile as he could manage on his face.



         When Buffy brought his blood down in the morning, she was shocked to find him waiting at the bottom of the stairs, sheet wrapped firmly around his body and eyes bright and alert.

        “Whoa! Somebody’s feeling perky.”

         “Feel like a bloody new man,” he agreed, staring at her hands. “Did you bring me more magic pills?”“I brought you one magic pill,” she said with a stern glare. “I didn’t save you so that I could turn you into an addict.”

             “Can vampires even become addicts?” he pondered as he moved out of her way.

             “Let’s not find out, huh?” She softened her expression and smiled as she handed him his blood and the small pill. “But it’s nice to know you’re feeling better.”

            “Not just feeling,” he said. “Look.”  Setting the blood and pill down, he pointed at his shoulders and waited for her to notice that they no longer had any open wounds.  He sounded like an excited little boy as he said, “I’m like that all over… well, ‘cept for that hole in my leg and the souvenir from the other night. They’re still open, but everything else has either scabbed over or…. here, look!” He dropped the sheet lower so that Buffy could see his whole torso. As he’d said, except for the wound from Gill’s stake, everything else was covered in scabs or shiny newly scarred flesh.

            Buffy broke into a broad smile. “You’re healing!” she said. “It’s about time!”

              His face fell at her words and he turned away, pulling the sheet back up and taking the mug off the step where he’d placed it. “Yeah, I should be out of your hair in no time, now.”  He kept his back to her while he swallowed the pill and drained the mug of blood.  Handing the empty cup back to her, but keeping his eyes cast down, he said, “Thanks, Slayer.”

               “Okaaaaay, from yippee to offended in record time.  What did I say?”

                “Nothing. You were glad I’m healing. As you should be.” He kept his eyes down as he turned away, missing the frustrated look on her face.  “Should be out of your hair within another day or two.”

               “Are all souled vampires idiots?” Buffy asked of no one in particular.

               “I beg your pardon?”

                “You. Spike. Angel.  Idiots, all of you.” She waved her hands around for emphasis as she warmed to her subject.  “Why are you always so sure you know what I need or want? I think I should be the one to decide if I want to be left ‘for my own good’ or if I wouldn’t care if somebody I loved came back from the dead. Or if it’s okay to be happy that somebody I’ve been taking care of for two freakin’ days is finally starting to get better.  Who died and appointed you ‘the reader of Buffy’s mind’? Who, huh?”

                 Bob stared at her, his mouth open. “Have you gone daft?” he asked, not having understood half of what she was saying.

                 Ignoring his question, Buffy answered the one he hadn’t asked. “I just meant, I was happy to see that you’re getting better. Did I say anything about leaving? No, I did not!” She blew right past his attempt to speak. “You can’t go out looking like that, even at night. You’ll scare small children… and their parents, probably. And you don’t know how or where to get blood, you’ve got no money….” She wound down.  “Did you think that’s what I was saying? That I was glad you’d be able to leave soon?”

                “Aren’t you? Glad, I mean.”

                 “Beside the point. I didn’t say it, you just decided that’s how you wanted to take what I did say.  And, no, actually, I’m not glad. Not that you could leave, anyway.” She stopped and blew out an explosive breath. “I’m not saying I won’t be happy to know that I don’t have to wait on you hand and foot anymore, cause, all things considered? Not my thing. But, I don’t want you to go running off as soon as you think you’re healthy enough.”

                   “Why not?” Those piercing blue eyes that could make her so uncomfortable stared into hers, demanding she give him a believable answer.

                 With a sigh, she sat down on one of the lower steps and tried to explain.

                 “Okay, here‘s the thing. Back in the day, Spike used to help me train. Even when he couldn’t hurt me, we could spar and it helped like whoa! It made me faster, smarter, and more…. what’s that word that means surprisey ….”

                  “Innovative? Unpredictable?”

                  “Yeah, those things. It really helped me.  And when we were working with the potentials, trying to help them learn how to fight vampires, it was a big help for them to have to go up against a real vamp.  It was a real eye-opener for them. Plus, he knew stuff, and he could show them things… I know it probably saved at least a couple of lives just because the girls had some experience against the real thing.”

                 “Am I going to like where this is going?”  He had backed into his corner, clutching his sheet around him and eyeing her warily. “Don’t fancy being a punching bag for girls with a grudge against me.”

                 “Not expecting you to. But, once you’re healed enough to move freely, you could be a big help to me when I’m training them.  And since you don’t have any money, and you’ll have to buy blood…”

                “You’re going to pay me to be a punching bag?”

                 Buffy stamped her foot, causing him to flinch back against the wall. “You aren’t going to be a punching bag,” she insisted. “You’ll be able to fight back. I expect you to fight back, just, you know, without hurting anybody too badly.  And it wouldn’t be me paying you; you’d be a Council employee. Just like me, and Willow and Giles…”

                 She narrowed her eyes at him. “Unless your soul has made you so wimpy you won’t even fight when it’s not your life on the line.  Spike always liked to fight; I guess I just thought… You don’t like it?”

                 “Got no bloody idea what I like, Slayer,” he said. “Don’t know that anymore than I know….” He got a faraway look in his eyes for a second, then frowned. “Would have sworn something was niggling at the back of my brain, but it’s gone now.”

            “Maybe….” She trailed off.

            “Maybe what?” He moved out into the room again, still clutching his sheet.

            “Nothing. Let me run it by Willow or somebody else really smart first. Then I’ll tell you what I was thinking. Okay?”

              He nodded and walked to his bed, his limp much less pronounced than it had been. Buffy watched him, then changed the subject abruptly.

               “Do you feel stronger?”

                He nodded again, giving her a wary look when she smiled.

                    “Think you can make it upstairs? If I help?”

                      “I can probably make it on my own,” he said. “Will take me a while, these scars still keep me from moving as easy as I’d like – at least, I’m guessing they do. Don’t know what I was like before I got them, but I can’t believe that normal vamp skin doesn’t have more give than these scars do.”

                    Buffy walked over to him, raising an eyebrow to ask permission before touching his shoulder. Keeping one hand on the shoulder, she used her other hand to raise the arm, watching his face for a sign that she should stop.  She was able to raise the arm almost half way over his head before a gasp told her it was as far as he could go. She could feel the unnaturally ridged scars under her hand as they tightened, preventing the arm from going all the way up.

                   “Yep. That arm is definitely not as flexible as it should be.” She let go and watched him lower it by himself, wincing a little.

                  “That’s higher than I’ve been able to get it,” he said, demonstrating by raising it himself to just past shoulder height.

                  “Hmmm.  Well, I don’t want to try too much while all that skin is so new, but maybe when you’ve had another day or two of steady meals….”

                   He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her, which, she was pleased to see was actually noticeable.

                    “I’m just thinking… Okay. Maybe not. A trained physical therapist, I’m not.  But, if somebody who knew what they were doing could just stretch you every day…”

                    “I’ll work on it myself, Slayer,” he said, moving away as if her proximity was making him uncomfortable.

                     “Yeah, okay. Good idea.” At the same time, Buffy became more aware that she had been putting her hands on a male vampire who was essentially naked. She flushed and moved a few steps away.

                 There was an uncomfortable silence for several seconds before they both spoke at once:

                 “Buffy, I—”

                  “Bob, I thin—”

                  They laughed. “Ladies first, Slayer.”

                    “I’m not sure I qualify,” she said, making a face. “In spite of my mother’s best efforts.  But anyway, I was just going to say that you should probably try moving everything at least once a day. Not hard enough to tear that new skin, but just so those scars don’t permanently restrict your movement.”

                 “Way ahead of you, luv. Gonna start by walking up those stairs to get my own blood…” He stood, then stopped and looked down at himself. “Guess I should put my kit on before I go wandering around where the real people live.”

                   Buffy snorted. “There’s nobody here but me, and I’m leaving to go to work in a little bit.  But you can’t go up there now anyway. The stairs go right into the kitchen and it’s full of sunshine at this time of the morning.  Give it a few hours, and it will probably be safe enough.  The blood is in the fridge – you do know what a refrigerator is, don’t you?” At his nod, she continued. “It’s in there, your mug will be in the sink, and the microwave…”

                    “I think I know how to use a microwave oven. Couldn’t tell you how I know that, but I think I do.”

                   “Okay, then. Just… be careful going up the stairs. Don’t fall down and undo all my hard work.”

                  Without answering her, he just sat back down on the bed and stared until she flushed and, with a “See you later”, ran up the stairs.  He laid back and listened to the sounds of Buffy getting ready to leave for the day, waiting until he heard the front door close behind her before he shut his eyes.

 
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