Chapter Four: Beginning the Search

“So, did he do it? Did he take the Oath?”

“Yeah, he did.” Buffy looked down at her right hand. A bandage was wrapped around it where she’d cut her palm for the Oath. “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting him to do it. It’s against vampire nature.”

“He must really be desperate,” Willow murmured thoughtfully. “I actually feel sorry for him.”

“I know.”

“So, are you going to ask Giles for help?”

Buffy shook her head. “I already discussed that with Spike. He doesn’t want anyone except you, me and Mom knowing he’s even in town. Think he’s afraid Xander or someone will stake him behind my back.”

“Point taken … but surely Giles will be able to search much more efficiently.”

“We agreed if the situation gets desperate, I ask him for help; otherwise, it stays between us.”

“Okay, got it. Won’t breathe a word.” Willow paused. “What if he asks what we’re doing?”

Buffy shrugged. “Background reading?”

“He’ll never swallow that. From me, maybe, but not from you.”

“You’d be surprised what people believe when they *want* to believe it,” Buffy smiled. “Anyway, I’m going over there later to pick up some books. Can you come with me, help me out?”

“Sure I will.”

“Maybe I’ll give Spike a couple to look through,” Buffy mused. “Might as well make him feel useful.”

“He still chained in the basement?”

“No, I let him out after he took the Oath. When I left he was lying on the sofa watching the soaps with my mom. I think he’s going to be practically living there from now on. Mom doesn’t seem to mind – actually, I think she’s enjoying the company.”

-----

“Was there a particular subject you were interested in, Buffy?” Giles asked, looking as if Christmas had come early.

“Um …” Buffy looked up at Willow.

“We were thinking, curses, that kind of area,” Willow said. “It’s not really one we know much about.”

“Curses particularly in reference to vampires,” Buffy added.

“It is a good idea to read up on topics we don’t have a lot of experience in,” Giles agreed. “Knowledge is power, as they say. Why don’t you try these two to begin with.” He handed Buffy two very heavy, worn volumes. “This one deals more with the history, and this one more with the how-tos. I imagine both could be useful.”

“Thanks, Giles,” Buffy murmured.

“Out of curiosity, was there a particular reason why this sudden interest in research?”

Buffy and Willow glanced at each other. “Um, not really,” Buffy said, before adding in a cheerful tone, “Maybe I’m maturing!”

Giles just raised his eyebrows at her.

The girls left Giles’ house laden with books. Willow took some back to college, while Buffy headed for home with some for Spike to look at. She had selected some which looked easier, as she was unsure how capable Spike would be of researching while he was ill. She at least, was well, and had Willow to help her understand some of the Giles-style language.

Buffy let herself in, calling quietly, and heard her mother answer from the living-room.

“Hey Mom.”

Joyce looked up at her from the mound of paperwork spread over the coffee table. “Hello, honey.”

“Where’s Spike?” Buffy asked, dropping her bag of books onto the sofa.

“In the shower.”

“Didn’t know vampires bothered.” Buffy sat down and started unpacking her bag.

“He spilled blood down himself,” Joyce told her, looking back at her paperwork. “His hands were all shaky earlier.”

“That a symptom?” Buffy asked quietly.

“He says yes.” Joyce sighed. “How are you doing with finding a cure? – Is that what those books are for?”

Buffy nodded. “I was thinking Spike might like to help out, if he’s up to it. I know if it was me, I’d want to lend a hand finding it. The books are for him to look at.” She paused, and suddenly frowned. “He was up this morning?”

“No, just woke up hungry. Thirsty. Er, what is the correct term?”

Buffy shrugged. “Think you can use either.”

“Oh.” Joyce thought for a moment. “While on the topic of food – drink – of edibles, will you be staying for dinner?”

Buffy smiled. “I think so. If I’m not intruding. You two seemed pretty snugly on the sofa last time I left.”

Joyce laughed. “Buffy, you will never be intruding.” She stood up and hugged her daughter. “But I have to say, it is nice having someone round the house again.”

When Spike came back down from his shower, dressed only in his jeans, he retreated to the basement without saying hello. Buffy thought he looked almost as bad as he had at the station. She followed him down with the books, and found him climbing back onto the mattress, this time chain-free.

She hovered on the stairs. “Knock, knock.”

He looked up, startled. “Oh, it’s you. Didn’ realise you were here.”

“Is blindness a symptom?” Buffy teased, before turning serious. “Look, I went to Giles today -”

“You didn’t tell him?” Spike interrupted.

“No, I didn’t. I promised, remember? I just said I wanted some background reading, and got these books. Thought you might like to lend a hand looking through them.”

He moved faster than she would have expected, hurrying over to look at them. Buffy stacked them in a pile on the floor, and he picked up the first and turned straight to the index, running a finger down the yellowing page.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

He grinned. “These look promising.” He looked up at her. “Buffy … thanks.”

It was the first time she could remember him using her proper name, and he certainly had never thanked her before. Buffy wasn’t sure how to react. She hesitated, and said, “You’re welcome.” There was an awkward pause, broken by a shout from upstairs.

“Dinner’s ready!”

“We’ll be right up!” Spike called up to Joyce. Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“You’re joining us?”

He nodded. “Sure, why not? I don’ feel so bad right now, so might as well make the most of it.”

Buffy couldn’t argue with that.

Spike carefully piled the books by his mattress and began to climb the stairs. Halfway up, he turned his head around to look at Buffy. “You comin’?”

“What? Oh – yeah.” Buffy hurried after him, hoping he hadn’t noticed her staring at his shirtless torso, and beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with her. “I’m coming.”

To Buffy’s disappointment, Joyce presented Spike with his washed, dried and ironed t-shirt which he pulled on before they sat down at the table. Joyce had laid a mug of blood out ready for him, juice for herself and a Coke for Buffy, and began dishing up the pasta.

“This looks delicious, Joyce,” Spike said in appreciation.

“Smells delicious too,” Buffy added.

Throughout the meal, Spike acted unnaturally *nice*, saying “please” and “thank you” a lot and passing Joyce everything she couldn’t reach, even if it was nearer to Buffy. It was starting to grate on Buffy’s nerves. *What’s he playing at, sucking up to Mom?* she thought. When they had all finished, Joyce started to clear the table, but Buffy stopped her.

“Let me clear up, Mom,” she jumped in, cutting off Spike’s offer.

“That’s very nice of you, honey. Although I can’t remember you ever volunteering before.” There was a twinkle in Joyce’s eye as she spoke.

“I’ll do the washing-up,” Spike said, standing. “Why don’t you put your feet up for a while, Joyce?”

“I’ll bring you a coffee,” Buffy said, shooting Spike a small glare.

Joyce laughed. “Why don’t I do that, and you two can sort out the rest between you.” She left the room, smiling to herself.

Buffy rounded on Spike. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” she hissed.

“What?” he asked in an innocent tone. “I’m on’y being friendly. Told you, I like your mum.”

“Mom may see you as a poor victim,” Buffy said, filling the sink with hot soapy water, “but she’s not the best judge when it comes to the supernatural stuff, okay? I know you better than that.”

“Do you.” Spike put the kettle on. “Well then, tell me, if I wasn’t sick and under Oath, what would I be doin’ right now?”

“Let me guess,” Buffy said in a sarcastic tone. “Killing someone. Duh.”

“Wrong, Slayer.”

“Go on then, tell.”

He took the clean dish out of her hands and started wiping it dry. “It’s a warm, clear evening. If I was back in Brazil, me an’ Dru would be on the beach, lying back in the warm sand watchin’ the stars, an’ I’d be composing her a poem.”

“A poem?” Buffy said incredulously. “You?”

He shrugged. “Tried to be a poet when I was human. Wasn’ much of a success, but I still try on occasion. Jus’ for the heck of it, you know.” Spike’s eyes narrowed. “You tell anyone that, I will flush Mr. Gordo down the toilet.”

“How did you know about Mr. Gordo?” she snapped.

“Your ex mentioned it when he was evil. Thought about planning to decapitate your little toy piggy as a message. On’y you uninvited him from your house before he could.”

Buffy stared at him. “Right.”

“Hey, I was nothin’ to do with all that.” Spike held up his hands in a surrender. “I was all for killing you outright.”

“Oh, thanks. That really helps. And just proves my point.” Buffy pushed a soapy plate rather forcefully into Spike’s hands. “No matter how hard you try to act otherwise, you can’t change the truth.”

“Which would be?” Spike sounded amused now.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Buffy groaned. “forget it. Just stop being so *nice* all the time, all right? It’s just too creepy.”

“What would you prefer me to be like?”

“I don’t care; as long as you’re neither hurting my mom nor licking her shoes, you can do what you want.”

Spike grinned. “If you insist.”

“I mean it,” she insisted, not liking the look on his face. “No kiss-ass.”

“I get it.” He chuckled. “The Slayer’s jealous.”

“*What?* I am not!”

“Yeah, you are. You’re scared I’m taking your mum away from you.” Spike paused. “Look, pet -”

“*Don’t call me ‘pet’*.”

“I *like* your mum, all right? I like her a lot. But she’s *your* mum, not mine.” He paused, a strange expression on his face. After a moment he said, “Look. Joyce … kind of reminds me of my own mum a bit. Okay? *That’s* why I’ve been tryin’ so hard. But she’s got you; you’ll always be first with her, and I would never try to change that – not that I could.”

For a long time after Spike’s speech ended, neither of them spoke. Finally Buffy found her voice.

“I think the kettle’s finished boiling.”

She made Joyce’s coffee while Spike slowly continued the drying up, and took it in to her. Joyce was back at the paperwork in the living room.

“Here’s your coffee, Mom.”

“Oh, thank you, honey. Just leave it on the table.” Joyce was frowning at a stack of bills. Buffy left the mug and returned to the kitchen, wondering how much of their conversation she had heard.

Spike had moved to the washing-up bowl and was in the middle of doing the cutlery. “Spike, I was doing that.”

“I ran out of things to dry up.” He handed her back to scrubbing brush and moved back to the drying rack. “Knock yourself out.”

Buffy was tempted to knock *him* out, but grudgingly went back to the washing up, and finished when Spike still had two plates left to dry.

“I could do one of them,” she offered, getting out another towel.

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

“It would be quicker -”

“For goodness’ sake Slayer, quit it!” Spike snapped. “*I am not trying to steal your mother; I am only trying to be helpful!* Will you get that through your thick skull? Bloody hell, it’s a good thing you’re at college most of the time; if this is what it’s like living with you I’d stake myself by the end of the week!”

They both glared at each other, and were interrupted by Joyce clearing her throat. “Erm … are you two finished?”

There was a pause. “The arguing or the dishes?” Buffy finally asked.

“Both would be nice.”

“Nearly done on the dishes front,” Spike informed Joyce.

“And …?”

Buffy glanced back at Spike. “Not sure on the arguing front.”

“Well, when you two are done acting like toddlers, I will be upstairs.”

Joyce left a stunned silence behind her. “I know that tone,” Buffy said finally. “That means she’s not very happy with us.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Well, you started it.”

“Actually, you did; and may I point out that by making that accusation you have proved your mother’s observation correct.”

“So did you by contradicting me.”

They both stopped, and after a moment they both laughed.

“This is stupid,” Buffy said finally, wiping away a tear of laughter. “Mom’s right. If this arrangement is going to work, we’ve got to both grow up and start acting our age … Well, maybe not. I’m more mature than the average eighteen-year-old, and you’re like two hundred.”

Spike frowned at her. “Hey! I’m not *that* old!”

“Whatever. You get my point.”

“Yeah, I do.” Spike considered. “Maybe we should lay down some ground rules.”

“Such as, don’t go overboard with the sucking up to my mother?”

“And not going overboard on the attempts to stop my sucking up to your mother.”

Buffy smiled. “Okay, deal. And we can add more as we think of them.”

“Suits me. Now, you wanted to do one of these dishes?” Spike offered her one.

“Thanks.” Buffy took it. “When we’re done we should go and tell Mom we’ve stopped fighting.”

“For now.”

“Are you trying to start again?”

“No, just sayin’ – you’re the Slayer, I’m a vampire. Oath or no Oath, I think it’s probably likely we’ll be bickering a lot.”

“I hate to say it, but I think you have a point.”

“How long d’you reckon it’ll take for us to go a day without an argument?” Spike said jokingly. “Few decades?”

“Ha ha.”

“No, seriously. I reckon a year at least.”

“You planning on hanging around that long?” Buffy asked. Spike just shrugged. “How long … I mean … the illness -”

“Matter of weeks.”

“Oh.” Buffy considered. “So, when you said a year -”

“Obviously, only if we manage to find the cure in time.”

“Spike, you do realise your being here is only temporary, right?” Buffy said. “Once you’re cured, that’s it, deal’s done, and I don’t want to see you round here again. You got that?”

There was a long pause. Finally Spike, still not saying anything, thrust the dishcloth into her hands and stalked through the door to the basement steps. Buffy sighed, and turned to the sink. *Vampires*.

-----

“Well, did you two work out your issues with each other?”

Buffy slumped onto the sofa. “Mom, I think it would take a year and a whole lot of therapy for us to work through all of our issues with each other. But for the purpose of this discussion, we’ve stopped fighting.”

“Oh, good.” Joyce looked up at her. “Buffy, you do know that Spike isn’t trying to hog me, don’t you?”

So she had heard.

“He’s just trying to be polite and helpful, seeing how he’s staying here.” Buffy remained silent, having decided she didn’t have the energy left to argue with her mother. “You’re my daughter and I love you more than anything, you know that.” Joyce kissed Buffy, and she allowed herself to lean into a hug.

“I know,” Buffy said finally.

-----

Although both Spike and Buffy tried their best to pretend the argument had not happened, the atmosphere was still tense. Spike announced cheerfully that he seemed to be going through a good patch, and spent a lot of his time reading through the books Buffy had taken over. Buffy was going from college to home, and working her way through her own with some help from Willow.

Several references to the illness had been found, but none detailed enough. One evening, when Spike was asleep in the basement and Buffy was in the living-room reading a particularly difficult volume, while her mother was dusting the mantelpiece, Joyce took her daughter by surprise.

“Buffy?”

“Yes Mom?”

“I … haven’t been able to summon the courage to ask this yet, but …” She took a deep breath. “Is Spike going to die?”

Buffy didn’t answer at first, just turned a page in her book. Finally she said quietly, “No, he’s not.”

Joyce looked relieved. “So his sickness *isn’t* fatal?”

“Oh, it is.” Buffy looked up. “But I’ve made a promise now, and I intend to keep it, Blood Oath or no Blood Oath. I’ll find the cure, Mom, you’ll see.”

TBC …