SPLINTERS by Lilachigh

Do a chap a favour and he invites himself in for a drink


Chapter 2

Tea for Two

‘What part of ‘Go away, now‘ don‘t you understand, Spike?‘

Buffy could feel her anger growing. She‘d just about had enough of the vampire tonight. What with crying in front of him while they sat on the porch, then having to dig splinters out of his fingers while he amused himself by chanting old English nursery rhymes in her ear...enough was enough.

‘No need to get your knickers in a twist, pet.’ Spike was back sprawled in his chair, eyes gleaming. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do - taken her mind off whatever disaster had been making her so distressed earlier in the evening. She could be as angry with him for as long as she liked. He could cope with that, but he couldn’t cope with tears, not from his Slayer.

‘I’ll be off before the sun comes up, you can always bet on that. Mind you, your Mum always makes me a nice cup of something before I go. Hot chocolate, coffee, tea. Proper tea, of course, not your rotten iced variety.’

‘What!’

Buffy didn’t realise she’d shouted until she heard faint movements upstairs from her mother‘s room. ‘You’re impossible, Spike. When exactly does my mother make you tea?’

Spike shrugged. ‘If I drop in while you’re out patrolling. I like Joyce. She’s got brains and - courage. And she’s kind.’

‘You don’t have to tell me that,’ Buffy snapped, and turned away so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes.

How could there be anything seriously wrong with her mother? Mothers didn’t get sick, mothers didn’t pack little bags and go off to hospital for tests. They were there, always, as sure as the sun rising and setting. Fathers vanished, went off to live abroad, didn’t keep their promises, but mothers... She felt smaller and smaller every time she thought about it. Younger and younger. She just wanted to be a little girl again and not have to think any more....

What would the CAT scan show in the morning? What should she tell Dawn? She couldn’t bear to think about it. But she couldn’t seem to think about anything else.

Spike noticed the way her lips had whitened, the tension in her face. ‘I’m sure Joyce would want you to make me a cup. It’s very stressful having a Slayer digging away at you with a needle. Having to stand so close to your mortal enemy. I could be in shock. I need hot strong tea. And - ’ he said hopefully, ‘sometimes there‘re biscuits - sorry, cookies, can’t get this bleeding American language straight, even after all these years.’

Buffy took a deep breath. Why wouldn’t he go? She wanted to sit and worry about her mother, not indulge in verbal fencing with a guy - no, sorry, wrong word, with an evil thing - who had somehow managed to worm his way into her mom’s misguided books.

‘If I make you a drink, will you go then?’

Spike looked up at her and a slow, deep smile spread over his face. ‘Of course, luv.’

‘And don’t call me love,’ she snapped automatically, wishing the shivery flu sensations she’d been feeling all night since their drink together at the Bronze would go away. She felt hot and cold and there was a weird tense knot in her stomach that wouldn’t ease.

‘OK, luv. One cup of tea and I’m off.’

Buffy filled the kettle and reached for a mug, slamming it onto the work surface. She pulled a teabag from the container.

‘No, no, no. Do it right, Slayer. Joyce makes it properly.’

‘What?’

Suddenly he was by her side, reaching past her to a high shelf. She flinched as his arm brushed hers, then he was lifting down a round, brown teapot she’d never known they had. ‘This is mine. I brought it over for your Mum. Makes a smashing cup of tea. Here, let me show you, pet.’

Buffy resisted the urge to smash the china pot over his head because a) it would make a noise and bring her mom downstairs, b) she supposed it could count as training because she could then make Giles a cup of tea when he was next round and he’d be pleased and surprised, and c} she didn’t seem to have the strength to say no, which was the result of shivery flu which wasn’t her fault.

‘Pour a little boiling water into the pot,’ Spike said gravely, as if this was a very important factor. ‘You have to warm the pot before you make the tea. It’s vital. So you move the water around very gently. Making the perfect cuppa is an art, Slayer. Like playing music, like making love...’

His cool firm hands were tight over hers, cupping the warm china, swirling the liquid round and round. And she couldn’t pull away because she’d drop the pot and break it, the water would spill and ....

‘Throw that water away - that’s right, now put in the tea bags - I’ve given up trying to make Joyce use loose tea-leaves - two bags, add the boiling water - now leave it to draw.’

‘Draw?’ Buffy gazed round distractedly. ‘I’ve got to draw something? I haven’t got a pencil!’

Spike’s lips twitched, but his voice was still very serious. ‘It’s called drawing when the water soaks into the tea. Different parts of Britain have different names for it - seeping, standing - I call it drawing. Where our Mick poofter friend comes from it’s called mashing.’

Buffy had a wild desire to phone Willow and tell her that she had to come up with a whole new vocabulary for her spells. Just ‘doing’ a spell was definitely not going to be good enough from now on.

The silence lengthened as they both stood watching the tea pot. Buffy suddenly realised that it wasn’t an awkward silence; it was comfortable, safe. She was relaxing, every muscle giving way slowly and gently.

She could feel the tension easing from her shoulders and for a long, mad moment, she wished she could drop her head onto the black T-shirted shoulder next to her, shut her eyes and drift off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that nothing bad could happen to her while he was there....

God, this was Spike. He might be chipped, but she still reckoned he’d try and kill her the second her eyes shut. The flu was sending her crazy as well as shivery.

‘OK Spike, enough! Pour your tea, drink it and go.’

Spike solemnly added a little milk to his mug, poured out the tea and stirred it. ‘Too hot yet, pet. Got to wait till it cools down a little.’

Buffy sat down wearily next to him and slowly tidied up the first aid kit. She didn’t want Dawn or her mom to suspect that something had been going on down here over night.
She winced as the harsh kitchen light jagged at her eyes and let out an unconscious sigh of relief when Spike stretched out a long arm and flicked off the overhead spot.

He was sipping his tea, at last, and somehow she must have put a plate of brownies on the table because he was eating, humming in enjoyment and she hated it when men hummed...

It was very quiet, the kettle ticked as it cooled, the sound of Spike’s spoon stirring in his mug was soothing and you were so tired... you ached all over. Tomorrow was going to bring even more problems and it was so easy to let your head fall...fall...fall sideways because there was the shoulder she knew would always be there, and she was safe and loved and fast asleep, curled up against a vampire in her kitchen.....


to be continued