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Love Awakened by slaymesoftly
 
Four
 
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Chapter Four

The meeting with Buffy’s mother, which took place a few days later, went as well as could be expected between a woman and the vampire who had tried to make her daughter his third Slayer kill. When Joyce peered at his face intently and asked if they’d met before, Buffy insisted he shift into his vampire features and explain to her mother just how they’d met.

Spike glared at the Slayer, but obediently made chopping motions with his hands and quoted, ”Get away from my daughter!”

Joyce stared at him coldly. “So, that was you? Can I assume that you’ve gotten over this idea of killing my daughter? Because I believe I may still have that axe somewhere.”

Buffy’s “Mom!” went unnoticed as the vampire made firm eye contact with Joyce and, shifting back into his handsome human features, vowed that this particular slayer was as safe with him as she would be with her own father.

Joyce’s amused snort and muttered, “That’s not quite the recommendation you might think it is,” brought a smile to Spike’s face and he relaxed into his chair. He’d taken pains to be wearing his cleanest tee shirt and jeans when she arrived, but the way she looked around the room and sniffed told him she wasn’t fooled. As she made to leave, following Buffy’s instructions to get home before dark, she scooped up all the dirty clothes Spike had tried to hide on the far side of the bed and took them with her telling the two astonished blonds, “Buffy can bring these back when she brings you your blood tomorrow.”

Her exit, arms full of Spike’s dirty laundry, left both slayer and vampire speechless and they stared at each other for several seconds before collapsing in laughter at the idea of the Slayer’s mother doing William the Bloody’s laundry for him. In spite of his laughter at the situation, Spike was unaccountably touched at Joyce’s easy acceptance of his word that he would never hurt her daughter, as well as her generous offer to wash his clothes – none of which had been cleaned since he was first put into the wheel chair.

As the time went by and Spike slowly improved on his diet of fresh pig’s blood, they fell into a routine in which Buffy would drop by, if not right after school, then at the end of each night’s patrol. She would give him his blood – her stated reason for being there; and he would give her more money and thank her.

He much preferred the nights that she came after patrol, as she could stay and talk then. In the afternoons, homework and meetings with her Watcher or her friends kept her from staying more than the few minutes it took to exchange the empty blood containers for new ones; but at night, she would sit in his wheelchair, or even sit beside him on the bed and he would talk to her about Europe and Asia and South America. All the places he had been and lived in his hundred and twenty-four years as a vampire. He even told her the occasional funny story about Angelus when he could remember some example of his grandsire’s ego creating situations in which they’d had to run for their lives.

Buffy talked about her school work, finding out in the process that Spike’s knowledge of poetry and literature gave her just the tutoring she needed to bring her “C”- in English class up to an unexpected “A”. When she came in waving her report card and impulsively kissed him on the cheek, the warmth growing in his chest told him instinctively that he needed to leave Sunnydale before he was lost forever.

Unaware of the vampire’s changing feelings, Buffy continued to visit and chat happily about her days at school, her rare evenings at the Bronze with her friends, and each night’s adventures. When the vampire questioned her casually about dating, dances and parties, she got very quiet, saying simply, “I’m not very interested in boys right now.”

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She had learned very quickly that it was not a good idea to visit if she had been injured that night. The first time she showed up limping from an encounter with a demon much larger than herself, Spike’s vamped-out rage had her retreating to the doorway before she realized that the anger was not aimed at her, but at his own inability to leave the room and wreak vengeance on the demon responsible. Touched at his apparent concern, but slightly miffed that he thought she couldn’t deal with it alone, she drew herself up and said haughtily, “I killed it, Spike. I handled it. Did you think I couldn’t? I AM the Slayer, you know!”

He gradually relaxed back into his human features and slumped in his wheelchair.

“I know that, pet. Didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t handle it. It’s just…I…I worry about you, yeah? And I can’t… “

He growled and then looked at her apologetically from under his lashes.

“I’m sorry, Slayer. I guess I’m just worried about where my next meal would come from if something happened to you,” he said less apologetically in an effort to salvage something of his Big Bad image.

To his surprise, Buffy seemed to take him at his word and he watched in dismay as the hurt expression that crossed her face hardened into the Slayer’s lethal stare.

“No problem, Spike. I’ll just leave my mom a note when I go out to slay reminding her that you need your daily delivery of blood. I’m sure she won’t mind becoming your new waitress if something happens to me. I mean, you know, when she’s not busy mourning for me, anyway.”

She glared at him coldly, resolutely pushing down the disappointment she felt that he was only worried about his own survival.

He’s a vampire. What did I expect? That he was worried about me? This is what I get for thinking he…liked me. That we were becoming friends. Friends- vampires. Not mixy.

Buffy’s thoughts were more visible on her face than she knew and the vampire reacted explosively.

“You stupid bint! I’m just trying to hang on to some shred of my image here. You know I didn’t mean a soddin’ word of that! Bloody hell, Buffy,” his voice dropped into a mournful register as he turned fearful eyes on her, “please tell me you didn’t believe I really meant that, luv. I was just trying not to sound too much like some kind of….” He paused, not sure what he was afraid he might sound like.

“That you might sound like somebody who actually cared what happened to me?” she said coldly. “Don’t worry. I think I got the message.”

“Obviously you didn’t,” he growled back at her. “Do you have any idea what it’s like for me, sittin’ here every night, knowin’ you’re out there, maybe fightin’ for your life? An’ all I can do is sit here and hope that I’ll see you come in that door sooner or later. Preferably in one piece.”

“Because you might starve.” She tried to keep the argument going, even though she was beginning to realize what was really bothering him.

“Because I don’t want you dead, goddammit!”

He blew out his breath in a gust of cool air as he glared at her fiercely with eyes filled with equal parts irritation and fear. His fear that she would not understand how much he cared about what happened to her fought with his fear that she would understand exactly how much he cared. Something of his indecision must have been visible on his face as the Slayer relaxed and Buffy said softly, “I don’t want me dead either, Spike. I am being careful, I promise you. It’s just that sometimes I get hurt. It’s part of the job description – hence, Slayer healing.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” he mumbled, somewhat mollified and embarrassed at his outburst. “Don’t ever want to see you bleed again.”

“I’ll try to see that doesn’t happen, then,” she replied.

It wasn’t until the first night that she didn’t show up at all, leaving him to roll around the mansion all day in a frenzy of worry, that he realized what she had meant by that. When she did finally appear late the next night, with bandages on both legs, there was another loud discussion about how inconsiderate it was of her to make him worry like that; after which, they settled on a mutually acceptable plan that would have her at least checking in with him the next day if she was too injured to come to the mansion after patrol.

To his great relief, there was no need to use the new plan, and they relaxed back into their routine of nightly visits and pleasant companionship. If it occurred to him to wonder why she was so willing to spend her free time sitting around a burned-out building with a crippled vampire, he forced those thoughts away before he could do anything foolish like tell her to go have fun with her friends.





 
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