CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Buffy woke up the next morning with an ache in the small of her back. She’d insisted on sleeping on the cot when they’d gotten back from Giles’ and she’d dumped the books on the dresser and scarfed the pizza she’d taken with her- her argument with Xander and his reminder of the way things were supposed to be still fresh in her mind. Spike hadn’t argued once she’d set him down on the bed, her earlier breakdown probably still fresh in his mind. She was starting to regret her decision. That cot was not made for human sleep.

She stretched with a groan, arching her back before pushing herself out of bed. The one big benefit of getting home so early the night before was that she was actually getting up at a decent hour of the morning voluntarily instead of wishing she could have slept until sometime after eleven.

The alarm clock read seven twenty-four, which meant her mom wouldn’t have left for work yet. Glancing at the bed, she figured the vampire occupying it would be out for a little while longer, and headed eagerly for the shower.

She returned to the bedroom in her towel, searching through her wardrobe casually for something to wear, humming. She had towel dried her hair, leaving it in loose, gentle waves down her back. She was slipping on her underwear when she heard the body in the bed behind her begin to stir.

Turning her head, she watched him push himself up to sit. His hands were braced on the mattress, causing the corded muscles in his arms to stand out. He had gone to bed in the same pants and shirt he’d been in the day before, and the way the pale skin of his arms contrasted against the deep blue of the shirt material was... it was a good thing that his arms were spared so much damage.

“Hey sleepy head,” Buffy smiled. “How’re you feeling?”

Spike groaned, rubbing the back of his head. She smiled at the ease of his movement- his ribs were obvious healing well. “’Can’t complain.”

“Or won’t,” Buffy said under her breath, pulling a skirt off of its hanger. She scrutinized it for a moment before she slipped it on underneath her towel. Some small part of the back in her mind found it strange that she was so comfortable chatting with Spike while half naked, but knowing he couldn’t see her made it so much easier.

The skirt was knee length and navy blue with a thick white band around the bottom. She pulled the bra that matched her underwear out of her drawer and a peach tank top out of the wardrobe. Spike pushed himself up to sit, bringing his legs around to plant his feet on the carpet.

He touched a hand to his cheek, and hissed in pain.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, pet. Just... wanted to check the damage.”

“Well, give me a sec to get decent and I’ll do it.” Buffy told him, blushing when she realised she’d just admitted to being half-naked. Quickly clipping her bra into place and pulling on the tank, she headed for the bed.

Spike’s face was, again, incrementally better. The fact that he could move easy was hopeful-making enough. The cuts or his burns weren’t going to go away any time soon, but hopefully, they’d all heal. She didn’t touch him, but she ghosted her fingertips an inch over his skin.

“I better change the bandages.” She told him, almost shakily.

Spike hesitated before moving back slightly. “No. It’s alright, Slayer. It’ll be fine.”

Buffy inhaled deeply. Steadying. “It’s okay, Spike. Just... just don’t open them, alright?”

There was another long pause before he nodded ever so slightly. Buffy reached for the bandage, carefully unwrapping it and removing it from his face. The swelling had gone down, but his eyelids were still red and raw looking. She didn’t want to see underneath them. All the cuts around his eyes were healing well, though, so she took that as another good sign.

She quickly set aside the old bandages and gauze and reached for clean ones. “You know,” she said, almost idly as she set about placing new squares of gauze over his eyes. “Dawnie did a pretty good job.”

Spike did one of those new smiles-without-smiling. “I walked her through it. She, uh...” He cleared his throat self-consciously as she secured the new bandages in place. “She doesn’t have your touch.”

Buffy ducked her head, moving away from him. “I guess it’s a whole Slayer thing,” She shrugged, tucking hair behind her ear. “I can break your face...”

“Or fix it.”

“Yeah,” She sighed. “I’m uh, heading downstairs for breakfast. You hungry?”

Spike nodded, shakily pushing himself to stand. She jerked forward slightly on instinct to help him, but stopped herself as he managed to do it himself. Only when he reached out uncertainly with one hand did she move forward, letting it brush against her arm.

He took hold of her shoulder gently, and she slipped her hand under his elbow and held his wrist, so their forearms were pressed against each other. And like that, she led him carefully out of the room and down the stairs.

 
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Joyce already had breakfast ready for the two of them when they entered the kitchen, having heard Buffy in the bathroom on her way past the door. There was a mug of blood for Spike and a glass of orange juice for Buffy, and a bagel for both of them. The girl gave her mother a strange look at the second bagel, and the older women shrugged with a smile.

“Good morning, Spike.” Joyce said as Buffy helped him onto his stool.

“’Morning Joyce,” he said warmly, accepting the blood as Buffy pressed it into his hand. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” she smiled. “What’s the plan for today, Buffy?”

“Research mostly,” Buffy told her, taking a bite of her jam-covered bagel. “Willow and Tara are going to come around after they finish classes.”

“’They’?” Joyce narrowed her eyes when Buffy bit her lip. “Don’t you have classes today?”

“Well, yeah, but I...”

“You are not skipping classes, Buffy.” Joyce told her.

“But I need to be here for Spike!” Buffy argued, frowning at the vampire when she glanced at him. He might be incapable of expression, but she knew he was enjoying the audio spectacle. Spike was actually, but most of him was just warmed by the fact that Buffy was willing to ignore the rest of her life... the normal in her life, for him.

“Nonsense,” Joyce waved a hand. “The gallery is closed today, and Spike and I will be completely fine without you for a few hours. Right, Spike?”

Spike jumped slightly in his seat before answering. “I, uh... yeah.”

Buffy quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing as her mother smiled triumphantly and left the room, telling Buffy she could drop Dawn off at school on her way to college.

“She’s right, pet.” Spike said in a low voice.

“I should be here,” Buffy insisted with a pout, finishing off her juice. She began clearing the bench, fumbling with dishes, making them clatter against each other anxiously. “I should be trying to find this demon, not worrying about pottery from a thousand years ago or art from guys that died—“

“Buffy.”

She looked up at her name. It was the second time he’d said it in the last few days. It was still strange coming from him.

“You should go. Get away from this for a little while.”

“I... I can’t. It’s nothing compared to what’s—“

“Then focus on the nothing.” He told her. His face was turned towards the fridge, to her left. “You’re too close. You need to get away from it. I’ll be fine with your mom for a few hours. Just... give yourself a break.”

There was a moment of silence before Buffy nodded. “Okay.”