CHAPTER TWELVE

Willow smiled as she sat down next to her girlfriend, giving the blonde an affectionate kiss on the cheek before the smile faltered as she turned to the man sitting across from her. She and Tara were meant to be having lunch together, not sharing it with Xander because he had some problem he needed to talk to her about. Still, he wanted to talk to her away from the Magic Box, so she had assumed the problem was with Anya. Which meant lunch was the only time they could talk ex-demon free.

So she gave him a warmer, reassuring smile, picking at her sandwich as she did. “So what’s up, Xander?”

She expected, at the very least, a wan smile, but instead received a tight-lipped expression from her best friend. “It’s about Buffy.”

The red head felt the body next to her stiffen, but she only furrowed her brow, sipping at her soda. “What’s up with Buff?” She couldn’t help the grin that resulted from her half-rhyme.

“Aren’t you worried?” Xander hedged, before catching the girls’ confused expressions and continuing; “About this thing with Spike.”

“I’m sure Spike w-w-will be fine.” Tara assured, her old stutter showing through. “I mean, vampires heal almost as quickly as Buffy does, right? And we’re working on-on spells to help.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the fact that he is with Buffy.”

Willow quirked a questioning look his way. “We can’t leave him back in the crypt. Some beastie could get him. Besides, Harmony really isn’t the selfless, nursing type.”

“Then why can’t he stay at Giles’? Like he did when he got all chipped up?’ Xander argued. “We could just take turns looking after him, just like we did then!”

“Yeah, but—“

Xander cut Tara off. “I mean, did you see her last night? Aren’t either of you worried about how... comfortable she was with him? He’s Spike for god’s sake!”

“I’m sure she’s just worried.” Tara interjected, her salad forgotten. “I mean, it could have been her that had been... hurt.”

“But she was kinda close to him all night,” Willow remembered with a frown, “She wouldn’t move away from him.”

“Exactly! And now he’s in her house.”

“But didn’t she say Joyce w-w-would look after him? Isn’t that why he’s there?”

“We all know Joyce is sick, how is she supposed to look after an invalid vamp?”

“I don’t know.” Tara allowed, “But as long as Spike’s in the basement we don’t have to worry, right?”

 
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Buffy led Spike carefully to her bedroom... what was going to be their bedroom for at least a little while. He hadn’t said a word in a response to her claims of a ‘surprise’ for him, and he hadn’t made a sound on the way up the stairs, even when he’d bumped into the wall. In fact, when she’d told him she had a surprise, he’d stiffened and kept his head bowed the entire walk upstairs.

She pushed open the door nonetheless, and backed into the room, taking hold of his elbows and leading him to her bed... His bed... Their bed. She shook of that last thought.

She broke into a small smile when she saw that her mother had already set up the cot, complete with fresh sheets and a pillow. The bags she’d brought home with her had been dumped there, so Buffy sat Spike down on the edge of the bed and she sat next to him, opposite the pile.

“I bought you some stuff, you know, so you don’t have to wear my Dad’s old stuff anymore,” she offered quietly, “It’s all that stuff you usually wear, but I went with button downs, you know, so you don’t have to... stretch.” She pulled a bunch of them out of one of the bags and put them in his lap, watching as he began to run his fingers over them. “I... I mostly got red and black, but I got you some other colours too. A couple of blue ones and stuff, nothing embarrassing or anything, but I can take them back if you just want—“

“’s fine, love.” Spike stopped her, “Thank you.”

She smiled. “And that’s not the best part.” She began unpacking the bags, Handing each item to him for his physical assessment. “New pants too. I got some jeans, but I figure we should keep you in something looser for a while, so I can keep an eye on your knee, you know?”

“You checking out my legs, Slayer?” He joked, receiving a good natured snort of derision in return.

“Oh, please.” She snarked, “And I got you a couple of pairs of boxer shorts. Not your style I know, but makes things a little easier for... well, me.” She handed them over. “And there’s this...” She dropped the next item into his lap.

Spike gave one of those smiles she was beginning to recognise- the grin that his injured face wouldn’t allow. “You got my duster?”

Buffy smiled. “Yeah, I swung by the crypt on the way back. I figured you’d... I thought you might want it.”

Spike only smiled. “Thanks, pet. You’re... thanks.”

Buffy noticed then their proximity, their thighs almost touching. She stood, wrapping her arms around herself. The sudden movement made her tip slightly, the lack of sleep making her head spin. She groaned, and Spike looked up, slightly off-centre.

“You alright, Slayer?”

“I’m fine, it’s fine. I just—“ She failed to stifle a yawn. “I’m tired is all.”

Spike, struggled to stand, and she moved forward, helping him up out of instinct. She knew he’d find his footing soon, but the blindness was leaving him off-balance. “Sleep then, love. I could use the rest too. Take the bed, I’m fine on the cot.”

Buffy shook her head, before she remembered he couldn’t see it. “No, Spike. Mom’s orders, remember? Injured vamp gets the comfy bed, Slayer gets the lumpy cot.” She tried to inject as much humour as she could into her voice, despite her exhaustion. “Them‘s the rules. Now, do you want change first? I can’t imagine those jeans are very comfortable to sleep in.”

Spike spluttered for a moment, before nodding his head uncertainly. He didn’t really think pointing out that he usually slept naked was going to help, so he accepted the clothing she handed to him.

“So... do you need help or are you, uh...” Buffy looked down, embarrassed. The no-underwear was becoming an issue. When he shook his head, she fought back the sigh of relief. That would have been a whole new level of awkward for them both. “Okay, well, I’m going to turn around, and you can... change.”

She turned, straight backed to face the wall, tensing when he touched her back. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sounds of his belt unbuckling, his zipper sliding, and his pants falling to the ground. After a few moments, he touched her again, his hand brushing her elbow this time, and she turned around.

He was standing there in a pair of grey fleece, loose fitting track pants, his shirt still in place. She gathered his pants and belt off of the floor, dropping them on the end of cot, on top of the now-empty shopping bags. “Okay, so... to bed with you.”

“Slayer, I—“ Spike tried, but Buffy pushed him back onto the bed, not with enough force to aggravate any of his injuries, but hard enough that he couldn’t resist.

“Look, I’m too tired to argue.” Buffy sighed, yawning again. She helped him into a comfortable position, covering him with the quilt. She smiled when she noticed his duster was still clutched in his hand, covering his legs. She went to prepare the cot, but he grabbed at her, catching her shirt.

“Compromise, alright?” He offered, his eyes pointed towards the corner where the ceiling meets the wall. He let her go and, with great effort, moved over to the other side of the bed, holding the quilt open to her. Buffy sighed, casting a glance to the closed door, before nodding wearily and sliding cautiously in next to him, careful not to touch.