Disclaimer: All the vampires are belong to Joss.

On this Thanksgiving weekend, I am ever so thankful for all the reviewers. Here's another chapter to read, if you can sneak away from the relatives long enough! 



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Chapter 5
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“Did you just see what I saw?” Anya gasped in disbelief.
 
Xander picked up his jaw from somewhere around his knees and said, “If you just saw Buffy kissing fangboy.”
 
“When did this happen?” Anya asked. “Are they… together? Like, together together?”
 
“I have no idea,” Xander responded, shaking his head. “I need to call Willow.” He went into the office and dialed Buffy’s number by heart.
 
“Hello?” Willow answered after a few rings.
 
“Wils, it’s me,” Xander said. “You are never going to believe what Anya and I just saw.”
 
“What is it?” Willow asked curiously.
 
“We just witnessed Buffy in a liplock with Spike. While he was all vamped out, I might add.”
 
Willow nearly dropped the phone in surprise. “Huh? I mean, how? What?”
 
“We were in here cleaning up and Spike came barging in, fanged out and drunk, clearly up to no good. I ended up needed to use a cross to get him to leave.”
 
Willow gasped. “Did he try to hurt you? Is there something wrong with his chip?”
 
“He didn’t go after us, exactly,” Xander admitted. “But he kept saying something had happened, and he looked really confused. And like I said – full fang face, which I am never going to get used to.”
 
“So how did Buffy come into this?” Willow asked, perplexed. “She left to go on patrol not that long ago.”
 
“We were looking through the window to make sure Spike was leaving,” Xander explained. “She came up to him on the sidewalk. She looked like she was checking over his injuries and then she kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek either.” Xander added.
 
Willow shook her head. “What could he have been up to? And what is up with Buffy today?”
 
“I know. She’s been on edge all day. Could Spike have her under some kind of thrall or something?” Xander asked worriedly.
 
“I don’t think Spike has those types of abilities, but who knows,” Willow said. She thought for a moment. “I know I said I wasn’t going to use magic, but maybe I should do a disinvite spell, just until we can talk to Buffy and make sure she isn’t under some sort of control.”
 
Xander thought for a moment. “We’ll come over right now. Anya can do the spell, and then the three of us can talk to her when she gets home.”
 
“Good. Dawn’s asleep, so we’ll have to be quiet so we don’t wake her. I’ll leave the back door open,” Willow said. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Anya and Xander lost no time in grabbing their coats and heading out to their car. They only hoped they would get there in time to assist Willow in what was clearly an intervention situation.
 
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Buffy and Spike made their way to the butcher’s, with Buffy wincing nearly constantly. “How do you think I ended up a vampire for the day?” Buffy asked, coughing painfully.
 
“Easy, pet,” Spike answered. “Gonna want that body returned in the condition that I lent it to you.”
 
“I’ll do my best,” she groaned.
 
“As for what happened, I’m as lost as you are,” Spike continued. “I went to bed in my crypt, woke up in your body, in your bed.”
 
“Why didn’t you come find me right away?” Buffy wondered.
 
“I would have, but there was a conference this morning with Dawn’s teacher and I didn’t want you two to get in trouble for missing it.”
 
Buffy stopped and stared at him. “Holy shit, I totally forgot!” Her borrowed voice was tinged with panic.
 
“Relax, Slayer,” Spike soothed as they continued on. “I managed to convince them that I was Dawn’s guardian. She needs to get to school on time and bring up her French grade. Otherwise, she’s doing well enough. They want her to talk to the counselor at school about any lingering issues about losing your mum. I told them that was a good idea. You can call and change your mind if you like.”
 
Buffy looked at him again, Spike’s face registering her puzzled feeling. “You did all that?”
 
Buffy’s face turned red as Spike said, “Well, yeah. I didn’t want the Nibblet to get taken away from you. Promised you I’d look after her.”
 
Buffy didn’t know what to say to that. Why does he keep going back to that promise? What kind of demon is he anyway? She finally decided to go with a muttered, “Thanks.” They reached the butchers and went in.
 
“Mr. Spike, how are we this evening?” said the butcher. “What can I get you?”
 
Buffy wasn’t sure exactly what to order. “The usual, please,” she said hopefully.
 
The butcher reached behind and came up with four containers of blood. “Here you are. Four pints of my best pig. That will be eighteen dollars.
 
Buffy fished in Spike’s pocket and came up with a ten and a couple of ones. “Um, do you have any money I can borrow?” she asked Spike sheepishly. Spike reached into the pockets of Buffy’s jeans and came up empty, shrugging. Right. He’s me. I’m broke. To the butcher she said, “I’m a bit short today. Can you give me a half order?”
 
“No problem. Nine dollars,” he said, putting two of the containers away. Buffy handed over the money, picked up the bag, and followed Spike out the door.
 
“There’s a little park around the corner,” Spike said. “Maybe you should drink that now, so you can start healing up.”
 
“Good idea,” Buffy said. She followed him to the park and sat down next to him on a bench. She opened one of the containers and grimaced at the smell, but once again the demon popped out, fangs and all. “God this is annoying! How the hell do you get your face to stay put?”
 
“Years of practice, love,” Spike said.
 
“And this pig’s blood is completely disgusting!” Buffy went on.
 
“No arguments there,” Spike agreed. “But disgusting or not, best drink up. Never going to fix those broken ribs without some nourishment.” Spike watched in amusement as Buffy took a deep, unneeded breath and chugged the blood down like it was medicine. She shuddered and grimaced, then repeated the whole exercise with the second container.
 
“Bleh! How can you stand this stuff?” Buffy said. “And how do you drink it without vamping out all the time? I can’t figure out what muscles to flex to get the bumpies to go away.”
 
“It’s not a muscle thing,” Spike explained. “It’s more of a mental thing. If you’re all tensed up, it’s hard to control. Close your eyes, relax, and picture my human face. And it sounds stupid, but sometimes it helps to think ‘Down boy’ at the demon.”
 
Buffy did as she was told. She closed her eyes and pictured Spike’s face. Really, really blue eyes. Those cheekbones. That smirky mouth with those amazing lips. That’s what I’m looking for, so just back off, alright, Mr. Fangy? She was relieved to feel that strange shift again, and opened her eyes. She ran her tongue experimentally over Spike’s human teeth and said, “Thanks. Nice to be able to talk without lacerating my tongue. Or your tongue, I guess.”
 
“We should probably get back to your place,” Spike said. “See if we can’t get the others to help us figure this out.”
 
“Good idea,” Buffy agreed. She stood up, pleased to notice that the headache was mostly gone, and the ribs were feeling minutely better. They started walking, still at a moderate pace, back toward Revello Drive.
 
“So what did you do all day?” Spike asked curiously. “I see you made short work of my whiskey supply.”
 
“Yeah, well, I needed to wash down the blood,” Buffy said sheepishly. “And I sorta set your arm on fire in the morning.”
 
Spike stared at her. “Bloody hell, Slayer. How’d you accomplish that?”
 
“Well I woke up, found that I was you, freaked out, and tried to go home. Forgot about the sunlight thingy for a minute,” Buffy explained.
 
Spike rolled his eyes. “All these years fighting us vampires and you haven’t noticed our slight flammability issues?”
 
“It just took a while to adjust, that’s all,” Buffy protested.
 
“Fine. You torched my arm. Then what?” Spike prompted.
 
“Well, I sorta… well…”
 
“You read my journals.” Buffy looked at him in surprise. “I checked the crypt before I went to the Magic Box to see if you were there.”
 
“Um, yeah,” Buffy admitted, and if she could have blushed in her current body she would have been red as a beet. “I was stuck there, and I didn’t know how to get through the tunnels…”
 
“It’s okay, Slayer,” Spike said, letting her off the hook. “Learn anything interesting?”
 
“I learned that you’re a good writer,” she said. “Some of that stuff was pretty hilarious. Did you really get stoned at Woodstock?”
 
Spike laughed. “Yeah. Believe it or not, I didn’t actually kill anyone there. Spent the whole time doing catch and release. The hippies were doing some good shit, let me tell you. At one point I spent an hour just watching my hand move.”
 
“Must have been quite a party,” Buffy commented with a small smile. After a moment she said, “What took you so long to come find me?”
 
Spike sighed. “I took a bit of a drive in Joyce’s car after the teacher’s conference. When I got back Willow was in the process of reporting it stolen because apparently you’re not allowed to drive or something.”
 
“I guess I don’t usually drive unless it’s an apocalyptic emergency,” Buffy admitted.
 
Spike continued, “Then Xander came over and Willow decreed that lunch was served, and then I got herded to the Magic Box to do inventory for Anya.” He broke off and looked at her. “I don’t know how you do it, Slayer.”
 
“Do what?”
 
“Refrain from strangling them,” he said. “Between Willow and Xander acting like it’s their house, not yours, and their constant need to weigh in on every little thing you do, I don’t wonder why you didn’t want to come back to this. I was ready to kill them after a couple hours.”
 
“I guess it’s good that you didn’t,” Buffy said in a tired voice. “Never really thought about it much. I use up a lot of my energy just getting through the days. It’s easier to just… go along.” A frown pulled down the corners of Spike’s blue eyes. She hated to admit it, but Spike had really hit the nail on the head. She had long since given up trying to wrest control of her life away from Watchers and Scoobies. I’m miserable most of the time anyway. Why add more crap to the pile by arguing?
 
Spike looked at her and took in her unhappiness. She was the Slayer. She was power and grace and beauty and death all wrapped up in one package, and he admired her for it. To see her so defeated all the time lately was heartbreaking. To know that a lot of the unhappiness was caused by her so-called friends was infuriating. As he was trying to think of what to say, he realized they had reached Buffy’s street. “Well, we’re here,” he said finally, for once at a loss for words.
 
Buffy looked up at her house with trepidation. “Yeah. Guess we have to go try to explain all this.” She turned to Spike for a moment and leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek.
 
Spike cocked his head. “What was that for, love?” he asked.
 
“For taking care of Dawn this morning,” she said. “And for listening. Again.”
 
Spike reached out and gently stroked Buffy’s face. “Anytime,” he said quietly. Then they turned as one and walked up to the front door.

TBC