SECTION 4 - YOU'RE THE ONE

When the cold wind blows
And the rain keeps tumbling down
And there's no one there
And the morning light shines on

You're the one to lend a hand
You're the one who understands
You're the one to comfort me
The keeper of my heart

(Clannad, Album - anam, Words and lyrics A. Brennan, Additional lyrics M. Brennan)




Chapter 4.04
Tuesday, May 14th, 2002

Unknown to Spike, he almost exactly echoed Buffy's own thoughts on the matter. "Don't reckon as the watcher's goin' to be throwin' us a party when he finds out about this."

"It's not like we've got to rush to tell him," Buffy pointed out.

"Maybe not, but I think maybe we're going to have to start keepin' some sort of journal, so that if he needs to backtrack over any of this, we've got all the details and dates."

"Do they put something in the water in England or something? You sound positively watcherly."

"Bite your tongue, missy. The day I join the tweed brigade-."

"Was the day we called you Randy?"

"Very funny. If this water was any deeper that would have earned you a ducking, love."

Buffy gave a mischievous grin. "Who says the water's not deep enough?" Scooting back to kneel at the foot of the bath, she bowed her head to where Spike's erection just broke the water's surface. Spike shivered with sensation as she blew gently on his damp skin. Her tongue flicked out to circle his head as a small but firm hand worked his shaft in long, slow, slick strokes. When she finally took him into her mouth Spike thought he was going to come, the combination of the water's heat and watching Buffy duck her face in the water with every stroke almost enough to undo him.

He reached out to draw her head up, away from the water's surface. Pulling her up his body until their lips met, he cradled her body against his as he plundered her mouth. Only when she pulled her head back, gasping for air, did they part. In that instant Spike rolled them both, water slopping messily over the side of the bath as he did so, before he claimed her lips again. He laid a trail of kisses down her neck and over her breastbone. His eyes watched her face, savouring her every reaction as his lips closed over each pert nipple in turn, suckling and teasing with the tip of his tongue. Buffy squirmed beneath him until finally he let his demon features come to the fore, using a fang to graze so gently over the taut pink flesh that a single tiny drop of blood formed for him to lick off as he changed back to his human features.

Then, with a wicked grin, the vampire whispered his intentions. "My turn," he told her as he shifted back and pushed her knees apart, hooking one of her legs over the side of the bath.

 

---

 

"Hey, we're home." Willow called out a warning to the house's occupants, half expecting to hear the sound of two pairs of feet heading for cover. The rhythmic thud of the washing machine in the basement was her only response.

"Come on in. It looks like they've popped out. They might be at Spike's place. Em, we probably don't have any milk, any more, or at least any we did have is probably more like yoghurt by now, but we can do black coffee, or we've got some of that cream in a can that you squirt."

"Black coffee's fine. Maybe you can tell me where I should put my things, in the meantime." Wesley hovered in the hall, a large and heavy looking rucksack slung over one shoulder and a set of panniers slung over the other.

"Em. Just leave them in the hall. I think, chances are Spike'll probably move in here for the duration and let you have his place, but it's probably best if he thinks he came up with it all by himself, or Buffy did."

"And you're not bothered about sharing a house with Spike?" the former watcher asked.

"After last night, a little. Okay, a big little, but Buffy trusts him and I trust Buffy, so."

Tara called out from the kitchen. "There's plenty of stuff here. Looks like Spike's been doing the shopping again."

"And he does buy ice-cream and stuff."

"And that would be an irrefutable sign that he is now on the side of good?"

"Works for me," answered the redhead.

 

---

 

The slayer pulled off the helmet that Spike had insisted on buying her. The vampire did likewise with his only headgear, a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

"Eww." Buffy ran her fingers through her hair. "Sticky. It's too hot to wear a helmet. And it's too tight. It makes my hair go all flat. I need another shower, and you are such a hypocrite."

"Look, love, it's supposed to be tight.ish, and short of my head coming off my shoulders, which a helmet wouldn't do anything to prevent, nothing's going to cause any permanent damage. You on the other hand have a perfectly adorable head that I would prefer remained intact."

"And what if you get pulled over. It'd be just great if you got yourself deported before your fake papers arrive."

"The cops in this town know better than to try to pull over anyone as can flash a bit of fang."

"That is so- ."

The sound of someone clearing their throat made the two blondes look up to where Willow and Wesley were watching from the front porch with some incredulity.

"Bogus," Buffy finished as the witch and the former watcher watched the vampire casually stroll around to eye Wesley's bike.

"Harley. Nice. Thank God it's yours, mate. Thought it was Bit's bloke's for a second. Was about to have a bloody heart-attack, metaphorically speaking. Thought of the Bit ridin' pillion behind some teenage hothead."

"Spike!?" The witch's exclamation came out as half way between a question and an exclamation of exasperation.

"What, Red? Didn't think either of you would need me to draw a diagram," retorted the vamp as he gazed up to gauge the angle of the sun, as if it was something he did every day. "Well, reckon as it's time I made a start on the cookin'." Spike slung an expansive arm around the bemused former watcher's shoulders. "So, is this just a flying visit or are you back in Sunnyhell for good?"

"I think that's what I'm here to find out. I'm planning to stay here for a couple of weeks, maybe check out the property market. If things go well, I fly back, load up the car and hire a U-haul. If, however, sharing The Magic Box with Anya for a day makes my brain liquefy and start leaking out of my ears I may seek alternate employment. And I think Tara's already making a start on the food. She said some of the recipes were book-marked, so she made a head start on the preparation."

"Shoulda known Glinda would pitch in. You got somewhere to stay while you're here? 'Cause if Buffy can put up with my ugly ass around here, you can stay at my place." Spike was already fiddling with his keyring as he looked back over his shoulder to where the redheaded Wiccan was looking to Buffy for an explanation for her sunbathing boyfriend.

"Orbs. Seems like invulnerable equals no sunburn, and since Xander's going to be busy at work all day, it seemed a shame to let them go to waste. Spike'll drop them off tonight, when he goes to see Clem, no big."

"Way big, Buffy, huge big," Willow replied.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Try telling that to Mr Stubborn Pants."

"Pet? Before we start that one again, is it okay if I stay here for now? That way Giles junior can have my place to himself?"

"Sure," Buffy answered.

"Mr Stubborn Pants?" Wesley queried.

"Ask her," Spike deflected. "She's the one as made it up. I've just got to put up with it."

"And I think you'll find that you're Giles junior, as well," his fiancée pointed out.

Spike turned to face his accuser head on, relinquishing his grip on Wesley as he did so. "Balls to that. Nowhere on any of my papers does it say that my father's name was Rupert, so you can forget that one straight off."

"So, just in case I'm ever asked, what does it say your parent's names were?"

"Arthur and Nancy Anne, maiden name Lydon."

Wesley gave the vampire a curious glance as he accepted the keys to Spike's flat. "I get Lydon and Nancy could be real or it could be Spungen, though shouldn't it go with Sid's name rather than Johnny's? But Arthur and Anne sound like they might be real."

Spike shrugged. "Just liked Lydon. Got a ring to it and buggered if anybody could tell you what his wife's called. And if the rest sounds real, it's because they are. And that's as much as you get, Watcher. If I wouldn't tell the old bugger, what makes you think I'd tell someone I've barely met. 'Sides you lot are all too fond of writin' everythin' in your little books for my likin'."

"Little books like you wanted to start writing?" Buffy asked archly.

Spike drew her a dirty look. "Pet, how about, since you're not goin' to be busy in the kitchen like some of us, you take Wes here across to the flat to drop his stuff off and pick me up some changes of clothes? Take the scenic route and get him reacquainted with some of the sights and sounds of Sunnyhell. We'll have plenty to keep us busy here for a while, I reckon."

As the door swung closed behind Spike and Willow, Buffy looked across at Wes. "Why do I feel like we've just been got rid of?"

"Maybe because all my things are still on the other side of the door that just got shut in our faces?"

A second later the door opened again and Spike cheerfully deposited Wes's things on the doorstep and pulled Buffy into his arms for a kiss. "See you in an hour or so, pet. You could take Wes to that pub we went to on Friday, reckon he'd like it."

Buffy stood on tiptoe to give him a peck on the cheek, whispering in his ear at the same time. "I got the message the first time."

"Good. And take your helmet. Can't be too careful."

Buffy waited for Wesley to kick-start the hog, before she scrambled on behind him. As they rode away, Buffy couldn't help thinking that the vampire was up to something and it wasn't just cooking, or giving her and Wes an excuse to get out of range of any listening devices.

And sure enough, before the sound of the Harley's engine had even faded into the distance, Spike had inducted the witches into his little conspiracy. By the time Buffy and Wes reached Spike's apartment, on the other side of what was, after all, a one Starbuck's town, the vampire was already replacing the handset after phoning Anya at the Magic Box. By the time Wes and Buffy were drinking coffee at a remote roadhouse, Spike had all his plans set firmly in motion and had settled in to see how he could help Tara in the sun-filled kitchen.

 

---

 

"Well, I guess that covers everything, except one question."

"And what's that?"

"Mr Stubborn Pants?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "A certain person who shall remain nameless, refuses to even contemplate the prospect of asking Xander and Anya If they'd mind an exchange on the wedding gifts front."

She put on an extremely poor copy of Spike's drawl. "'Cause those things are meant to save Demon Bint from worryin' 'bout Harris getting' bashed to bits and I'll not have anyone sayin' I'm some damn Indian giver. Gave them to the boy, and they're his now, end of story." Giving a sigh, she let the accent lapse. "And then we got off on this whole new argument about how there isn't a PC term that means the same as Indian giver and how Spike wouldn't use it even if there was and where the term derived from and whether it was Native American Indian or Indian from India.

If he had something he calls a good reason, he might borrow them, but he refuses to ask for them back." She shrugged. "Like I say, Mr Stubborn Pants."

"I must say it seems to rather contradict all the effort he went to, looking for the Gem of Amara and then trying to wrest it from Angel."

"But he didn't give that to Angel, so if he could take it from him it was fair game. At least, that seems to be the way Spike logic works.

So, question for you. Weren't you supposed to be going through the junk at the junk shop?"

Wes shrugged. "Well, I had a skim through this morning before we left and confiscated some of the more obvious items, but when I spoke to Rupert on the phone, he intimated we might be able to reach some sort of financial arrangement regarding any items that he could use for stock. He thought if I spent a couple of days with Anya in the shop, I then might be able to cover for her while she retrieves any items she wants for inventory."

"Can I give you some advice? Settle the money side with Giles. If Anya gets involved you're guaranteed to get a. tougher deal." Buffy hesitated trying to find a diplomatic way to describe Anya's business acumen before she changed topics.

"Look, there's something else. I think Spike was hinting at me to tell you. Of course, if I'm wrong. but never mind. I would talk to Giles about it, but we really don't have a way to speak to him that can't be eavesdropped on .upon? Whatever? Anyway. What it is, is that ever since we made the claim mutual, we've been sharing dreams.

Friday night, Saturday morning we both dreamt about mom. Yesterday, when we got Spike back and we caught some sleep at the hotel, it was my buried alive dream, but he was buried underneath me? Sort of separate coffin, same plot, you know? Only he figured it was something to do with Dru, that if Fred hadn't woken us he would have got to where she was waiting for him as he clawed his way out. So, he didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything because like since... I mean he says he used to get the coffin dreams, too, when he was first turned, but it had been years since he'd had one, but with Dru being like five minutes dead he just chalked it up to stress and maybe because I'd mentioned I'd been having them, like it put the idea in his head.

Then, this morning we both had this dream, like he was showing me round New York, showing me places he used to go and stuff. And, Wes, he told me things I didn't know. I've never been to New York, right? And we're not talking tourist sights, unless you count Central Park in the middle of the night, which I kind of gather isn't somewhere most tourists would want to be, but the places he took me in the dream, they're real. Spike can't vouch for how many of them are likely to still be standing, but they were how he remembers them."

"And while he was held prisoner?"

"Same old recurring yada, yada, yada, no Spike. But every time since the claim that we've fallen asleep in the same room. same dreams."

"And you say, there were things he told you in the dream that you had no way to know? What about when you dreamed about your mother? Was there anything to suggest the dream originated in your memories rather than his? For example, what was she wearing? Was it a real outfit? Could Spike have seen her wearing it?"

"Wes, it was a dream and it was." Buffy counted off the days on her fingers. "Three and a half very long days ago. I couldn't really remember what I dreamed about until we sat down to work it out and Spike said he remembered he dreamed about mom 'cause he woke up in a good mood. But even he doesn't remember any details, and I wouldn't be surprised if Spike knew mom better than I did.

He loved her, you know. And he's so intuitive with people. He picks up on the least little thing. I mean, sometimes when he was down, he'd bring out the mothering instinct, but sometimes I'd come in from school and he'd be sitting round the kitchen with her and Dawn and the three of them would be laughing their heads off, and I'd feel like I was the outsider. I guess what I'm getting at is that him and mom could talk like equals, so he got to see all of her, while I got Joyce the mom."

"I didn't realise Spike had known your mother so well. I thought your relationship was a recent thing?"

"Our relationship's been around a long time, it's just done a one eighty degree shift over the years, but he'd been mooching cocoa from my mom for years before he was even chipped. I just wish."

Buffy shook her head. It was no good wishing that her mom could be here or that Spike could have had some sort of reconciliation with her before she died.

She drained what was left of her coffee before picking up her helmet and wrapping herself in the folds of her thick leather coat.

"Come on, our hour is up."

 

---

 

Dinner was ready. All that everyone was waiting for was the arrival of Dawn and the guest of honour. Tension was thick in the air as the group waited expectantly. Wes's gaze flicked to watch the vampire's face as they heard the sound of an engine approaching the house and then being cut off. The former watcher saw the gold flecks that flashed in the vampire's eye before he stormed off to the kitchen. Buffy exchanged puzzled glances with Tara and Willow, before she pushed her concern over the vampire's unpredictable actions to one side, to go and greet their guest. Wes never got the chance to explain that the distinctive sound of a two-stroke engine was enough to tell both the men in the room that the vampire's nightmare scenario from this afternoon was coming true.

It was her sister shaking her head and fluffing her hair as she passed her helmet back to her date, that told Buffy the good news. Buffy scanned her sister's clothing, taking in the lack of padding on knees and elbows. Her mouth thinned in a disapproving line before she could cover up with what was now a patently false smile of greeting.

"Dawn, Brandon, why don't you come in? We're all ready to start as soon as you're settled in."