CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Do you think Spike is going to be okay?”

Buffy jumped slightly, caught off-guard by her little sister’s question. They had been driving in dead silence, both of them staring straight ahead. They had left the house about fifteen minutes after Spike had convinced her to do so. She had hurried about the house, her actions bordering on the erratic as she had grabbed text books and pens and shoved them in her bag. She had made sure her cell phone was tucked securely in the pocket of her cardigan just in case, and informed her mother on the best way to get blood to the right temperature.

She’d avoided saying goodbye to Spike, and Dawn had been waiting quietly by the front door when Buffy had finally been ready to leave.

“What?”

“Do you think...” Dawn hesitated as they turned onto the street that fronted the school. “Do you think Spike will be okay? I mean, will he heal?”

There was a moment before Buffy sighed. “I think so. He... he’s already started to heal. A little.”

“So... he’ll be better soon?” the younger girl pressed hopefully.

“I... He’s got a long while to go, Dawnie.” Buffy said, pulling into a park and switching off the car. The brunette made no move to leave. “The little things are healing... the cuts, some of the bruises. But...”

“You don’t know if he’ll... if his eyes will heal.”

Buffy gave her sister a small, sad smile. “No. I really don’t.”

“Buffy?” Dawn asked tentatively. “Are you and Spike... are you friends now?”

The Slayer shook her head, then furrowed her brow. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I just... I have to fix this.”

Dawn covered her sisters hand with her own. “You’ll find a way, Buffy.” She smiled. “You always find some way to fix everything.”

The eldest Summers smiled again, nodding. Dawn leaned across and kiss her sisters cheek, grabbed her bag and got out of the car. She gave Buffy another reassuring smile before she shut the door and headed towards the school gates.

Buffy watched her little sister go for a moment, watched her greet her friends with a wide smile on her face, before she restarted the car and drove away.

 
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“Buffy!”

The girl in question jumped slightly in response, her head jerking out of her hand where her chin had been resting at the sound of the voice. She was sitting at an otherwise empty table, a heavy book open in front of her. She had been poring over the tome since she’d arrived at the library an hour or so earlier, choosing to wait out the time between her classes there instead of at the cafeteria.  A sharp shushing noise from the librarian was the response the voice had earned itself. Willow approached the table with an apologetic grimace for the librarian before smiling at her friend. She sat down across from Buffy, pulling her own, much smaller book out of her bag... a psychology text book.

“Hey, Willow.”

“Hey, I ran into Caroline outside the cafeteria and she said she saw you headed here.” Willow explained, opening her book. “I didn’t think you’d be coming in today.”

“Me either,” Buffy admitted. “Mom insisted, though. So here I am.” She waved a hand lazily.

Willow nodded, leafing through her book idly before she noticed Buffy’s. “You took the Ethgart Compendium?” She asked disbelievingly. “That was in the Tara-friendly pile.”

“Well, that would explain why I can barely understand any of it.” Buffy sighed, sitting back and rubbing her eyes. “Is this in Latin or something?”

“Just really... really old English,” Willow smiled, and began digging through her bag again. She sent a wary look in the librarian’s direction- she’d retired to her office. “Anyway, I figured you hadn’t eaten, so I brought you this.”

Buffy smiled gratefully as her friend set an egg sandwich, a bottle of diet coke and a packet of M&Ms on the table. Quickly tucking the sandwich and drink into her bag lest the librarian returns, she opened the M&Ms and offered them to Willow. “Quite the spread, Wills. What’d I do to earn all this?”

The redhead shrugged with a smile. “’Figured you needed the sugar and caffeine rush. I mean, I know Tara and I haven’t been all with the sleepy-ness the past few nights, so we figured you really wouldn’t be. Too much Spike on the brain.”

Buffy almost blushed at that, memories of those few hours he’d been at her house- falling asleep with hand... touching, and then side by side the next morning- flashing unbidden to mind. She ducked her head and busied herself with the M&Ms, sorting them into little piles by color. These were not thoughts she should be having. Those moments meant nothing but comforting a sick man...pire. A sick vampire, she reminded herself.

“How has it been?” Willow pressed, snagging a red M&M. “Playing nursemaid?” Buffy wrinkled her nose the same time Willow did, realising the way her phrase had sounded. “I mean... is everything okay? At home?”

Buffy shrugged noncommittally. “You can see for yourself this afternoon. You and Tara and still coming by, right?”

“That’s the plan,” Willow nodded. There was a pause. “So, I’m all with the helping but... why do you need us there?”

Buffy smiled, gathering up her bag, book and the untouched notebook she had set out for any useful facts she could have found. She stood, “I was hoping we could work some mojo. Just... bring some books, ‘kay?”

“With sage and a bag of tricks.” Willow affirmed, standing too.
 

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“More blood, dear?”

Spike gave Joyce the tiniest of smiles. He was sitting on the couch in front of the television- showing some movie that Joyce liked. He couldn’t actually see what was playing, but by the sound of it, it was some old romance from the era of Gone with the Wind. She had seen him jittering in his seat and thoughtfully handed him a ball of yarn she had been knitting with and he had sat their unravelling and ravelling it over and over.

“’m right, thanks Joyce.” He told her gratefully, winding the wool around his fingertips. She nodded pointlessly and picked up his empty mug, headed to the kitchen to make tea.

Spike liked Joyce. He always had- right from the first time he and Buffy had teamed up for the first time. She had had this extreme sense of strength that emanated from her- the same kind of strength that he loved so much in Buffy. Hell, he’d respected the hell out of her when she’d hit him over the head with an axe.

But then there was that truly mothering side of her- the one that made sure he and Buffy had had a filling breakfast and had demanded he had a comfortable bed to sleep in. It was a strange mix- the gentle, suburban mother that reminded him so much of his own, and the fierce, brave woman that wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself.

So spending the day with her was definitely not the worst thing that had happened since he had lost his sight. In fact, next to being close to Buffy, it was the most comfortable he had been.

“You sure I can’t get you anything, Spike?” he heard her voice come from the kitchen.

“I’m sure—“ Spike tried to call back, but fell into a coughing fit at the strain on his ribs. He groaned, leaning back against the couch, breathing as heavily as his chest would allow.

Joyce came hurrying back into the room, setting her mug on the coffee table before touching a hand to his shoulder worriedly. He nodded reassuringly, and she sat back beside him. His fingers began sliding through the yarn again.

“She does care, you know.”

Spike’s face turned towards Joyce. “What?”

“Buffy.” She replied. “She cares. What she’s doing for you... it’s not just out of guilt or pity. She cares.”

“I never—“

She patted his knee and picked up her knitting again, turning her attention back to the television. “I know. But you need to know that too.”