Chapter Fifteen
 
The hot shower, several hours of sleep, and Buffy’s slayer healing all combined to produce a much more rested and comfortable slayer by late the following morning. She woke to the sound of Joyce just leaving her room, and rushed to the hallway.
 
“No you don’t!” Buffy said. “You get right back in bed and stay there. Dawn and I will bring you whatever you want.”  She frowned. “What do you want?”
 
Joyce smiled.  “I was just going to put some coffee on and maybe get some toast.”
 
“I can do that. Just give me a couple of minutes to get dressed and I’ll be right back with your breakfast in bed.”
 
Buffy ran back to her room, threw on some jeans and a tee shirt, and, after peering in to be sure Joyce had actually gone back to bed, made her way to the kitchen where she found Dawn trying to figure out how to use the coffee maker.
 
“Where does the water go?”
 
“I don’t know. But how hard can it be? It makes the coffee, all we have to do is put the stuff in the right places.  Here, let me look at it. You make the toast.”
 
Somewhat longer than the “right back” she promised, Buffy carried a tray containing what she hoped was drinkable coffee and buttered toast with a side of strawberry jam into Joyce’s bedroom and triumphantly placed it on her mother’s lap.
 
“Ta da!”
 
“Thank you, honey.  And you too,” she said, smiling at Dawn. “But really, if I could survive yesterday and last night, I’m pretty sure I could have handled a walk to my own kitchen.”
 
“Doesn’t matter. We’re here to take care of you, and that’s what we’re going to do. Right, Dawn?”
 
“Right! I’ll just call the school and tell them—”
 
“I’ll tell them that the family emergency is over and that you will be back in classes by tomorrow morning.”  Joyce fixed a steely gaze on her youngest daughter, who tried to appear shocked and happy about the news.
 
Buffy’s snicker was short-lived as Joyce turned to her to ask, “When are you going back to college?”
 
Buffy sighed and shook her head. “Not till the fall, I guess. I just missed too much this semester, so they let me withdraw without flunking anything. I’ll try to get a summer job of some kind to keep us going for the next few months.”
 
“I have a suggestion.”
 
“You do?”
 
Joyce nodded. “Until I’m free to go back to work, the gallery will be short of help. We cannot ask Lisa to give up her social life to be there from opening to closing every day and on the weekends.  You could be helpful, especially with moving the larger pieces around and loading them for customers.”
 
“Yeah, sure. But I don’t know anything about art... or collecting stuff.”
 
“No, but you do know someone who does.”
 
“I do? You mean Giles? I think he went to some fancy school, but he just studied Watcher stuff.”
 
“I mean the other British gentleman in your life. He has a very good eye for quality, as well as a surprisingly comprehensive knowledge of modern art.”
 
“Other Bri—you mean Spike? Bleached blond, nail-polish-wearing, steals cigarettes from 7-11, Spike?”
 
“Spike has depths that may surprise you, Buffy.  Did you think he and I bonded over my whacking him with an axe?”
 
“I thought it was over your hot chocolate...” Buffy muttered, struggling with the idea that Spike was capable of having an opinion about anything more artistic than which punk band was the crudest and loudest.  She remembered his remark the day before about “poetry-spouting ponce” and resolved to question him about his life before and after being turned.  “Okay, so I’m going to help out at the gallery and Spike’s going to help me?”
 
“Well, he probably shouldn’t be waiting on customers... and he used to make Lisa very nervous and giggly, so—”
 
“Giggly?”
 
“Yes, I think, in spite of being somewhat afraid of him, she may have had just the teeniest bit of a crush on him.  You know how flirty he can be. She wasn’t used to that kind of overtly sexual charm. Patrons of small art galleries tend to be less.... masculine... than Spike is.”
 
“If he’s been flirting with Lisa, he’s about to be a lot less masculine,” Buffy muttered, blushing with embarrassment when she realized Joyce had heard her. With her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears, Buffy retreated to her room to get her shoes and a jacket.  She waited patiently while Joyce finished the calls she was making, listening as she assured Lisa that she was very pleased with how she’d been handling things while Joyce had been ill, and that she sending Buffy only to help her out, not to check up on her. 
 
“You’ll be able to leave a little earlier in the evening, and Buffy will be there to help you with heavier things.” Joyce paused. “And Spike, do you remember Spike?” She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Him.  He may be in and out from time to time. Most likely long after you’ve gone home, but just so you aren’t too surprised.”
 
She gave a few more instructions, reassured Lisa once again that she was doing a wonderful job, and hung up with a sigh.
 
“I take it she isn’t thrilled to hear that she’s got a new assistant?” Buffy said with a rueful smile. “I can’t blame her for being worried. I’m not sure I know anything about actually, you know, working.”
 
“Buffy, I have never doubted that what you do is working. And I couldn’t be prouder of you for what you do to keep the people of Sunnydale, and the world, safe. You’ll be fine. You won’t have to go in until noon, so you won’t be losing sleep if you have a long night, and you’ll be closing up by 9:00, so you’ll have plenty of time for patrolling and... whatever.”
 
“That would be Spike,” Dawn said brightly. “He’s the ‘whatever’.”
 
Buffy glared at her grinning sister. 
 
“I suppose he will be,” Joyce agreed with another sigh. “As much as I like Spike, I certainly had never anticipated....” She shook her head. “Ah well. I’m not as naïve about your life as I was when you were... dating... Angel.  If Spike loves you, and he can help keep you safe, then whatever relationship you end up having will have my acceptance, if not my blessing.”
 
Buffy gaped at Joyce. “Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?”
 
Joyce laughed softly as she handed her tray to Dawn and slid down in the bed. “I like to think I am a practical person, and one who can accept reality.  I’m going to nap now. Why don’t you go tell Spike that he’s just become a silent partner in an art gallery?”
 
~~~~~~~~
 
Still marveling at her mother’s seemingly calm acceptance of her being in a relationship with another vampire, Buffy wandered through the warm sunshine on her way to Spike’s crypt. Although she’d waited for a while before leaving, and had gone by the gallery to tell Lisa what time she’d be in that afternoon, it was still fairly early in the day, and Buffy was sure Spike was probably sound asleep.
 
It’s not like he’s actually had a whole night or day’s sleep since he left Seattle. I hope he just went straight home last night and tried to get some rest.
 
She pushed the doors open and stopped just inside to let her eyes get used to the dimmer light. When she felt she’d be able to see, she closed the interior door behind her and tiptoed toward the open entrance to the lower level. She peered down, unable to tell if he was there or not.  She used a pencil flashlight to give her enough light to get down the ladder without illuminating the whole room.
 
When she reached the floor, she debated about using her flashlight, which provided only a very limited area of light, or lighting one of the candles she knew would be sitting around somewhere.  Determining that the soft, warm candlelight would be less intrusive than the single, very bright beam coming from her hand, she shone her light around the floor, looking for Spike’s pants.  When she located them on the floor at the side of the bed, she tried to tiptoe over to them so she could grab his lighter from a pocket. Her attempt to be silent went down to defeat when she tripped over one of Spike’s boots and fell face down on the bed.
 
“I’m not sure if this is an attempt to wake me with a little somethin’ special, or just a bloody clumsy attempt to be sneaky.”  Spike’s soft drawl was filled with amusement as he waited for Buffy to realize where she’d fallen.
 
Only when the body part her cheek was resting against twitched and began to swell, did she realize where her face was. Her sudden “Eeep!” and attempt to push herself up by placing her hands on his legs turned his amusement to outright laughter.
 
“I’m gonna go with clumsy attempt, then?” he said, laughing again at the heat he could feel from her flaming face.  He put his hands over hers and yanked her forward until she was lying on him.  “That’s better,” he purred. “ ‘though you’ve got way too many clothes on.”
 
“I... I just came by to talk to you... about later tonight. But I didn’t want to wake you up if you were sleeping.  I know you must be tired.”
 
“Do I feel tired to you?” He pulled her tightly against him as he growled into her neck. His now fully awake cock seemed to be seeking her all on its own as he burrowed it between her legs.
 
“Well, no... now that you mention it... I guess you don’t.  But I don’t want to interrupt your sleep—”
 
“My sleep was interrupted when you came creeping down the ladder with that blindingly bright torch. And if it hadn’t been then, waking up find your face on my dangly bits would have done it for sure.”
 
“That was an accident!”
 
“If you say so, love.”  He began to suck on the skin of her throat, causing her to moan and squirm on top of him. 
 
“Mmmmmmm.... you need to stop that.....”
 
“Why should I?” He paused only long enough to argue, then went right back to sucking.
 
“I’m pretty sure it’s evil.  Nothing that feels that good could be not evil.” 
 
I’m evil, remember? This is what I do. Evil things.”  He stopped and lifted her off and over to the side.  “But I’d rather be doing them while you’re naked...”
 
Not at all bothered by what seemed to Buffy to be almost total darkness – although somewhere on the floor her flashlight was trying its best to illuminate the area under the bed – he begin to undress her.  When it seemed like she might be going to object, he dropped his head to kiss her, taking her mind completely off what he was doing to her clothes.
 
It wasn’t long before she was as naked as Spike, and when he fitted their bodies together again, skin to skin from head to toe, she sighed into his neck as he settled against her. 
 
“Bloody hell, love. Been dreaming about this all day. Missed you being here. Want you in my bed all the time. Promise me you’ll never get so far away I can’t just reach out my hand and feel you.”
 
Buffy blinked at his intensity and eloquence.  Trying to lighten the mood, she said, “I’m pretty sure that’s not your hand I’m feeling....” She followed her words by reaching between them to wrap her hand around him.  “Yep. Definitely not a hand.”
 
Huffing a laugh, he rolled off, pulling her with him. “Think you should make sure of that, don’t you?  Just take your time, make sure you know what you’ve got.”
 
Grateful for the darkness that hid her face, Buffy murmured, “I think I know what I’ve got. And I think I... like it.” She stroked him, smiling at his appreciative moans and colorful verbal encouragement.  “I think it likes me too....”
 
“I think it loves you,” he said, stilling her hand with his.  “And so do I, Buffy. Not here because you make my body feel like it’s on fire... although, I’ve got to admit....” His voice trailed off as she shook off his hand and continue to stroke him.  “Where was I?  Oh, right there, like that, love.... Bloody hell! I’m trying to have a conversation here!”
 
Buffy nodded her head, mumbling, (her mouth having replaced her hand while he talked) “I’m listening,” as she nibbled on the side of his cock.
 
“I’m tryin’ to tell you I love you, and you’re just... Oh sweet Jesus... “  He threw his head back and arched up off the bed.  “You’re playing with fire, there, Slayer.”
 
“I thought I was playing with your—mmmph!”  He yanked her forward again, his mouth on hers interrupting her attempt to be funny. She found herself lying on top of him again, this time as nude as he was, allowing his cock to find its way exactly where it wanted to be.  She felt his hands run lightly over the already closed and partially healed wound on her back before he broke the kiss and rolled them over.  “You’ll tell me if it hurts, yeah?”
 
“It’s fine,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Slayer here, high pain threshold...”
 
“Don’t want to hurt you, love. At least, not unless I mean to... Never mind. That’s for when we know each other a bit better.” He began to move his hips as he put his lips back on her neck in the same spot he’d been sucking earlier.
 
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to suck my blood out without actually biting me,” she gasped, turning her head to give him better access.
 
“If I could, I would,” he responded with a snort. “But I’m just doing the next best thing. Tasting you, and marking you as mine.  Don’t hear you complainin’,” he added.
 
“Feels too good.  See?”  Wrenching her head away, she fastened her own mouth on his neck and began to suck as best she could.  The growl that accompanied her action took her by surprise and she hesitated. “Don’t you like that?”
 
“If I liked it any more, I’d....” His guttural voice told her he was in game face, and she reached a hand up to stroke his forehead. 
 
“Then why the wrinkles and fangs? I’m not trying to hurt you.” The uncertainly and pain he could feel in her voice banished his demon instantly.
 
“Know that, love. And so does the demon. Trust me.”  He kissed her face and mouth until she relaxed under him.  “But I am what I am, and when you push the right buttons, you get the real me.  Wasn’t because I objected to what you were doing – couldn’t be happier about it when you put your mouth... or teeth... on me, it’s because I liked it so much I couldn’t control myself.”  He kissed her again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should have warned you that could happen.”
 
“One of those things I need to learn about you, I guess,” she said, holding him tighter as she felt him trying to move back.  “Something else to get used to.”
 
“Got all the time in the world to get used to each other,” he said, reassured by the way she was clutching him and beginning to move his hips again.
 
“Well, actually... Guh!... today, we’ve only got a couple of hours before we—or I— have to go to the gallery and start to work there. So, if there’s getting used to that needs to happen, you’d better get to it.”
 
She felt his chest shake as he laughed and began to move more vigorously. “Ask and you shall receive, Slayer.  How’s that?”
 
“Guh!” she said again, moving against him.  “I think I’m going to like getting used to that.... oh yeah. Definitely...”
 
~~~~~~~~~
 
 
By the time they showed up at the gallery so that Lisa could show them the ropes before she went home, they’d both agreed that they could happily spend the rest of their lives getting used to each other. Neither one addressed the issue of Buffy’s likely much shorter lifespan, or Spike’s barely-formed thoughts on how to extend it.
 
The End