Chapter Eight

 

 

“So, that’s the deal, Giles.  He has a soul – although Willow won’t tell me why she overreacted the way she did, so I don’t know what’s up with that – and he’s probably going to be willing to work with me… us… to train the girls.”  She shook her head, letting her frustration show.  “Assuming he has anything to offer.  He doesn’t seem very fighty for a vamp. I think he’s pretty much a wimp.”

 

“A wimp that managed to fight his way out of a squad of trained slayers,” he reminded her. “And who put himself between Dawn and a much healthier demon.”

            “Yeah, yeah. I know. But he says he was just terrified of the girls and that gave him strength, and I don’t know what the deal was with the vamp in my yard, but Dawn staked it. He just held it still for her.”

 

“Be that as it may, I suspect just facing something that fast and strong will be enough for our newest recruits. It will cut down on the surprise factor the first time they have to face the real thing.” He leaned back in his chair. “When do you think he’ll be ready to be of use to us?”

 

Buffy shrugged, not quite sure why she found so distasteful the idea that her “pet vampire”, as Dawn insisted on calling him, was only going to be tolerated because he could be useful.

 

“It’s gonna be a while. In the first place, even if he could fight now, most of these girls would throw up when they saw him. Multiple burn scars equals really not pretty. But he can’t. The scars are all tight and stiff. He doesn’t have much range of motion anywhere.  He’s not going to be very good in a fight until they start to go away.”

 

She stood up. “I’m off to talk to Willow about whatever it was that freaked her out yesterday, and then I’ve got a full afternoon of training.”

 

“Don’t forget about the squad you need to take out before graduation. I’m sure they’ll be fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to make them prove it first.”

 

“Crap! I forgot all about that.  Okay, I’ll try to find someplace to take them tonight.”

 

 

 

“So, what’s the deal, Wills?”

 

Willow smiled at Buffy. “Hi to you too,” she said, ignoring the question. “Buffy, this is Katrina. She’s a good healer, and she’s also something of an expert on souls.  I’d like to bring her over to meet Bob.”

 

“Sure. That’d be great.  I gave him some drugs yesterday and he was a lot more comfortable, and he healed a lot, too, which is kinda weird cause I wouldn’t have expected the OxyContin to—”

 

Katrina broke in. “There could be a couple of things going on there,” she said with a small cough of apology as she interrupted.  “Severe pain is very debilitating – I would think just as much for demons as for humans, even though I’m sure they can take more of it. When you eased his pain, it gave his body the relief it needed to start healing itself.  Then too, you have been feeding him regularly for a few days now.  Do you know how long he’s been injured and unable to eat?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “Only the gash that Gill’s stake made. No idea how long he’s had all that other stuff. And neither does he. He can’t remember anything before he ended up living in my shed. You’d think his brain got burned too.”  Buffy snorted a laugh, then realized Katrina wasn’t joining her, but was frowning and muttering to herself.  “What?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just… that may well be what happened,” she said. “If whatever caused the burns also burned his internal organs, it’s possibly it could have destroyed brain cells as well as the other, more visible, damage. I’m a little surprised he isn’t blind, actually.”

 

“Terrific. So I have a brain-damaged vamp in my basement?”

 

“Well, if that’s the case, and it’s not something else – amnesia as a retreat from remembering whatever happened to him, or a spell of some sort – then, it may get better as the rest of his body heals. I just don’t know.” She smiled another apology at Buffy. “I’ve really never studied injured vampires or demons,” she said. “I don’t know anyone who has… other than, I guess, demon healers, if there are such things.”

 

“So, he’s getting better faster because he’s not hurting as much?”

 

“That, and/or the regular meals. If he had been without blood for a long period of time, even if he did catch the occasional small animal, there’s no way his body could have done much healing.  I doubt that’s any different in vampires than it would be for anyone else.  Good nutrition means good health and healing; starvation means….”

 

“Yeah. I think I get it.  He’s only getting pig blood, too. I’m sure his system would be a lot happier with some O neg in the mix.”

 

“Buffy… you aren’t planning to…”

 

“What? No. No, I’m not going to go looking for human blood to give him. He doesn’t even know what it tastes like. No sense dangling it in front of him.”

 

“Doesn’t know, or doesn’t remember?”  Willow looked dubious.

 

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, does it? If he can’t remember it, he can’t miss it. And if it takes him a little longer to fatten up on pig blood, well… He’ll just have to deal.”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bob slept in blissful, pain-free comfort until well into the afternoon.  He awoke from a dream that was gone as soon as he opened his eyes, causing him to snarl in frustration. Without being able to remember anything about it, he knew that he’d been dreaming of things from before he lost his memory.  He threw the sheet off and stood up, planning to pace around the room to wear off his anger, but changing his mind when the injured leg went out from under him.  He sat on floor, snarling and swearing until he’d exhausted himself.

 

“Useless prat,” he muttered. “Can’t even work up a good tantrum without falling down.”  Pushing himself to his feet, he checked for damage, but, except for a scab he’d knocked off one elbow, he seemed to be in no worse shape than he’d been before.  He studied the bad leg, happy to see that the muscle and tissue were still filling in, and the hole was growing smaller.  Holding his sheet  in case the kitchen wasn’t as empty as he thought, he stood and looked at the stairs.  To his eyes, they looked like the Matterhorn, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to start up.

 

Advancing one step at a time and dragging his injured leg, he managed to reach the kitchen and peer in to make sure the sun was no longer filling the room with lethal rays.  With more confidence, he stepped out and went directly to the refrigerator, opening it and pulling out the first container of blood he saw.  Not bothering to heat it up, he tilted the plastic carton into his mouth and began to gulp the life-giving fluid.  When he’d finished, the container was empty and his stomach was noticeably fuller.

 

“Not exactly six-pack abs,” he muttered, patting the little bulge in front of him. “But just what the doctor ordered.” 

 

Dropping the container on the kitchen table, he picked up his sheet and limped out of the kitchen.  Avoiding any windows that were admitting sunbeams, he prowled around the lower floor of the house, pausing in the living room to stare at the old-fashioned painting over the fireplace.  He frowned so hard at it that he made his face hurt, the scars on his brow not being ready for that much crunching, but he couldn’t have said why it fascinated him so.

 

Finally turning away and allowing his face to relax, he looked at the TV, holding the remote and growling as he tried to remember what it was.  When he accidentally pushed the “power” button, the set came on and he broke into a twisted grin.

 

“Bugger if I know what I did, but this looks like fun.”

 

He settled himself on the couch, which, he noted, smelled like Buffy.  It wasn’t until he’d stopped inhaling her scent so hungrily that he realized what it meant that he could tell she’d been sitting there. Until then, he’d only been able to smell warm blood and anyone in his immediate area. His body had been ignoring any other scents not directly related to protecting or feeding it. Satisfied that he really was beginning to recover, he stretched out his legs, draped the sheet over his crotch, and watched the football game going on in front of him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Buffy came home, the first thing she heard was yelling from the living room. She approached carefully, the knife she kept concealed in her boot held in her hand.  She paused at the entrance to the room, her eyes going from the television, which was now showing some kind of horror movie – complete with blood and screaming – to the sound-asleep vampire sprawled on the sofa.

 

“If he’s getting blood and oozy stuff on my new furniture…” Putting the knife away, she walked into the room, stopping when she saw that Bob was clearly caught in some sort of nightmare. Muffled snarls and whimpers were coming from his throat, and his limbs were twitching as if trying to respond to an attack of some sort.  Buffy’s gasp when his thrashing around caused his sheet to slide off to the floor brought his golden eyes open, glaring around while he leapt to his feet and fell into a fighting stance.

 

They were frozen in place for several seconds while Bob recovered his wits and Buffy realized she was staring.  With a mumbled apology, she whirled to put her back to him. Babbling his own apologies, he bit his lip and reached for the sheet, draping it over his shoulders and holding it shut so that he’d covered everything but his face and hands. Buffy remained facing away from him, face flaming, as he shuffled his feet and waited for her to respond to his “I’m decent, Slayer”.  When she finally turned around again, peeking quickly to be sure he was telling the truth, her face was still bright red. It wasn’t until she realized that he was fully expecting her to stake him, that she relaxed enough to say, “It’s okay.  I’m a big girl.  I was just surprised, that’s all.”

 

“Shouldn’t have to worry about being surprised by a naked man in your own living room,” he mumbled.  “I’m sorry. Never meant to fall asleep here. Thought I’d be back downstairs before you got home.”

 

“Yeah. Well. I’m tricky that way. Coming home without announcing it ahead of time.”

 

“Said I was sorry,” he growled, pulling his sheet tighter.

 

Buffy picked up the remote and clicked the TV off.  “I see you remember how to work a television set.”

 

“Didn’t, actually. Turned it on by accident and started watching the footie.”

 

“Not an exciting game, I take it?” she said, gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen.

 

“Dunno. I think I was rooting for the men in red, but I don’t know why. One minute I was watching the match, and the next I was…” He looked at her from lowered eyes that had gone back to blue.  “Have I mentioned how sorry I am?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Relax. I’m over it. Are you hungry?” She opened the refrigerator and took out another carton of blood.  Staring pointedly at the dirty plastic container he’d left on the counter, she said, “I’ll just warm this up while you clean up your mess.”

 

“Sorry,” he said again, grabbing the container and putting it in the kitchen trash.  He swiped ineffectually at the table top with a corner of the sheet, stopping when she glared and threw a wet sponge at him. “What the bloody hell do I do with this?” he said, snatching the sponge out of the air with his left hand and almost dropping the sheet again.

 

Buffy pointed at the table, then turned back to the microwave.  When she was facing him again, mug of warmed blood in her hand, he was scrubbing at the tabletop as if his life depended upon it, and clutching the sheet under his chin with his free hand.  Smothering a giggle, she watched for a few seconds, then said, “That’ll do it.  Here, sit down and have some dinner.”

 

While Bob sat at the table, nursing his mug of blood and trying to pretend he was used to having dinner with a woman while wearing nothing but a wrinkled sheet, Buffy fixed herself a salad and sat down across from him.

 

“Maybe we need some house rules,” she said finally.

 

He just stared at her, waiting to hear that he was banished to the shed again.

 

“Okay, here’s the deal: if you come upstairs, you wear clothes, got it?  Should be okay now, anyway. Most of you is healed, right?  We’ll just bandage that leg and chest, and you won’t have to worry about bleeding through.”

 

“You’re not throwin’ me out?”

 

Buffy sighed. “No. I’m not throwing you out. It’s not your fault you fell asleep, or that you had a nightmare, or that… Just try not to be naked again, ‘k?  I might have had Dawn or Willow or some of the younger girls with me.”

 

He cocked his head at her in a way that sent a twinge through her chest. “You’re one hell of a woman, Buffy. You know that?”

 

“So I’ve been told,” she whispered, shaking off the déjà vu.  “Okay. Let’s get you bandaged up and dressed.  I have to go back out again shortly.”

 

“I can do my own leg,” he said.  “Can probably do the other too. There’s no need for you to be putting your hands on me if you don’t want to.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say I want to, but I’m not some delicate flower who’s going to faint away either.  If I was, I’d be lying on the living room floor right now calling for my smelling salts.”

 

She grinned at him and he chuckled along with her.  Buffy put her dish in the sink and stretched. “Okay, I’m going to get dressed for patrol. I’m taking those girls you beat up out again to see if they learned anything.  Can you get downstairs by yourself?”

 

He nodded, carrying his mug to the sink and, after studying the faucets for a second, rinsing it out.  “I think so. I’m feeling stronger every time I wake up. If I could just get rid of all this scar tissue…”

 

“Oh! I almost forgot – what with the nakedness and everything – I met a healer today. She’s going to come over tomorrow to see what she can do for you. But anyway, she said that your brain might have been burned too, and that as your other body parts heal, it might get better too.  Your memories might come back, some of them, at least.”

 

He nodded. “Makes sense, I guess. I think when I sleep now, I’m remembering stuff from before, but when I wake up, it’s gone.”

 

 

 

When Buffy came back down, now dressed for a cool night of patrolling and evaluating, she found Bob back in front of the television, wearing his sweat pants and struggling to tie off a bandage around his chest. 

 

“Here. Let me.” In coldly efficient fashion, Buffy pulled the bandage tighter around his ribs and tied it off, tucking the ends in.  She pushed on the padded section to make sure it was covering his wound, nodding in satisfaction.  “Did you do the leg?”

 

He nodded. “I’d offer to show you but…”

 

“But I’ve seen all I need to see of that part of your anatomy,” she agreed quickly.  “I should buy you some underwear, I guess.”

 

“I’m not sure I wear underwear,” he said quite seriously. “Didn’t have any on before.”

 

“And I’m pretty sure I don’t care if you usually wear it or not,” she came back. “As long as you’re living here, I think it would be a good idea.  You can go back to going commando if and when you’re living somewhere else.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” said meekly.  Buffy shot him a suspicious glare, but he just blinked at her innocently and she let it go.

 

“Okay. I’m off.  Don’t leave the house, ‘k?”

 

“Got it. Go. Have fun. Kill things.”

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

With the advent of darkness, Bob found himself wide-awake and he took advantage of Buffy’s absence to explore the rest of the house. He found that if he moved carefully, and didn’t put too much weight on his bad leg, he could get around quite well without tiring himself out.  Having explored the first floor that afternoon, he made his way up the front staircase to the second floor where he quickly identified Buffy’s room.  He looked around curiously, but didn’t touch anything.

 

He was able to identify one of the other bedrooms as belonging to Dawn. Although he’d only met her the once that he could remember, she smelled enough like Buffy for him to find her room.  When he pushed open the door to another room, one that smelled like a man and that made his chest rumble, he paused, confused. 

 

She’s never mentioned a man. I wonder who… not my business, I guess. I’d almost say I know that scent, but can’t be possible. Maybe he was here while I was unconscious?  Dare I ask her?

 

He easily recognized the stairway at the end of the hall as being a continuation of the one that led from the basement to the kitchen, and up from there. He’d stopped questioning why he knew some things and not others, just accepting that he knew the narrower back stair was for servants to access the different floors of the house.  He followed it up to what was clearly the floor where the servants who’d lived in had had their sparse rooms. They were mostly empty, or filled with boxes of things Buffy had yet to put away or throw out, and he quickly lost interest.

 

He was on his way to the attic when his leg finally began to remind him that he was only getting around courtesy of an artificial lack of pain and he sat down on the step to take some deep breaths.  When his vision had cleared and he felt he could handle it, he retreated to the floor below and made his way down the back stairs to the kitchen.  He was fumbling around in drawers and cupboards trying to find the pain pills when Buffy came in through the back door. He gave a guilty start, but she just shrugged out of her jacket as if coming home to find damaged vampires rooting through her kitchen was a common occurrence.

 

“What are you looking for?”

 

“Nothing. Not really anything,” he said, unable to keep himself from flashing back and forth between human and demon face. Buffy narrowed her eyes and walked closer, unheeding of the fangs now visible.

 

“This what you’re looking for?” she asked, holding up the bottle of OxyContin that had been in her pocket.  He hung his head, seeming ashamed at having been caught.

 

“Might have been,” he mumbled, edging away from her.

 

“You were fine when I left, what happened?”  As she spoke, she was opening the bottle and shaking out one pill.

 

“Think I may have overdone it a mite,” he said, staring hungrily at the pill in her hand. 

 

“When I warned you about that, you told me you weren’t stupid,” she reminded him as he handed him the pill and a glass of water.

 

“It’s possible that was stretching the truth some…” He grabbed the pill and swallowed it dry, using the water to help wash it down all the way.

 

Buffy shook her head and began walking toward the living room. “Come on in here and sit down till that kicks in. I’ll tell you all about how your first students did tonight.”

 

 

 

By the time Buffy’d finished recounting how the girls had taken out a big nest, and how they’d organized themselves so as to do maximum damage with minimal effort, Bob’s rigid body posture had relaxed and he seemed to be better. He was able to hold his human face and listen to her story, making the occasional comment to indicate he was paying attention.

 

“So, the bloodthirsty little bints are going to graduate on time then?”

 

“Yep. Hey, you want to come to graduation?”  She held a straight face while he gaped and stuttered, only losing her poise when he finally exploded, “Hell no! I don’t want to go anywhere near them!”  She’d been laughing for several seconds before he realized she hadn’t been serious.

 

“Ha, bloody, ha, Slayer,” he said sourly. “Laugh it up at the poor old weak vampire’s expense.”

 

She stopped laughing as quickly as she’d started, staring at him with wide eyes.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Laugha it up at—”

 

“No! the first part. Ha, ha.  Say it again.”

 

“Ha, bloody, ha?”

 

She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered.

 

“Slayer? Buffy? What’s wrong? What did I do?” 

 

“Nothing,” she said softly. “It’s just… every once in a while, you say something that reminds me… I’m sorry. It’s nothing. I thought I’d gotten over that years ago.”

 

“Over what?”  His eyes were full of concern, and a complete lack of understanding.”

 

“Over… over-reacting whenever somebody says something Spike used to say.” She took a shaky breath and blew it out. “I used to go to pieces if somebody called me “pet” or “luv”. It took me a long time to realize that England is full of people who talk like that and that I had to get used to it.  ‘Ha, bloody, ha’ just isn’t… I never heard anybody else say that before. That’s all.”

 

“Remember how I said you were going to have to tell me about this vampire that was ‘ancient history’?  Think now might be a good time?”

 

“No. No, it really isn’t a good time. In fact, it’s a very bad time.  I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. I don’t even talk about… stuff… with people I’m close to.  Telling a random vampire that I don’t even really know about Spike?  Not happening.”

 

She stood up. “Where’s the remote? Isn’t there something on TV tonight?”

 

“Alright. None of my business, I guess.  I’m just sorry if anything I do causes you pain.”

 

“It’s not pain… not really.  Like I told you, it’s ancient history. I grieved, I missed, I was lonely, and thens I got better.  It just… it just rattled my cage a little, that’s all.  Don’t worry about it.”

 

After an uncomfortable half hour watching a show neither one of them paid any attention to, Buffy stood up and said she was going to bed.  Bob immediately got to his feet, the effects of the pain pill obvious in the relaxed way he held himself. She looked at him and bit her lip.

 

“You know… right now, while you aren’t hurting too much, might be a good time for you to take a shower.  Just in case Katrina needs to… it would be a good idea,” she repeated.

 

“Trying to tell me I smell bad, Slayer?”

 

“Maybe?  Sorta?” She sighed. “Yes. That is what I’m trying to tell you.  You need to take a shower.  The sooner the better.”

 

He nodded.  “What bathroom do you want me to use?”

 

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t care, as long as you leave it clean and don’t drop wet towels all over the floor.   You’ll have to go upstairs, though. There’s nothing on this floor but a little powder room off the kitchen.”

 

“Alright. I’ll do it now.”

 

Buffy watched him walk toward the stairs, then said, “Wait. You may as well be comfortable tonight. She ran to the laundry room and grabbed a clean sheet. “Here. Put this on when you get out and give me the sweats. I’ll wash them before I go to bed. I’ll get you some underwear tomorrow.”

 

“I don’t want any,” he said as he started up the stairs, using the bannister to keep weight off his bad leg.

 

“I don’t care!” she yelled after him.  She watched and listened to his progress, frowning when he seemed to walk, without hesitation, right to the bathroom. She recalled how he’d gone directly to the main stairway and frowned again. I guess now I know how he overdid it.  Nosy vampire. I wonder where else he went?

 

Buffy went around the house, checking door locks and turning out lights. She decided the glow from the refrigerator door was sufficient for a vampire, and turned off everything else except the basement stairs.  She left one lamp on in the hallway at the base of the stairs she was about to ascend and reached the second floor just as Bob emerged from the bathroom, sheet wrapped around him like a toga and dirty sweatpants in hand.

 

“Feel better?”

 

“Yes, thank you.  Do I smell better?”

 

“From here you do.” Buffy stepped closer and sniffed. “I think you’ll do. Katrina will thank you for it, I promise.”

 

“Should have said something before, Buffy.” He stared at the floor, clearly embarrassed.

 

“Why? It’s not like you could have done anything about it until you could walk.  Or like I was going to give you a sponge bath or something.”

 

“No playing ‘naughty nursey’ for the Slayer, I guess.”

 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Why is it that you can think of things like ‘naughty nursey’ – which I so don’t know anything about anyway – but you didn’t know how to work the remote?”

 

“Dunno. Just do. Sometimes something just pops into my head and I know it’s something I know.  And then I’ll try to remember something and hit a blank wall.”  He shrugged. “I think I’m getting some memories back – bit at a time – but I can’t swear to it. Since I don’t even know what I should know, it’s hard to say if I’m remembering stuff or just learning it as I go.”

 

“Maybe Katrina will have some answers tomorrow,” she said as she went around him to get to her room.  “Goodnight, Bob. Be careful going downstairs.”

 

“Got that covered,” he said, sitting down on the top step. “Takes a while, but I can do it.” He began to lower himself down the staircase, one step at a time, half sliding, half using his arms to support his body.  “Goodnight, Buffy.”