His Slayer

CHAPTER 5

Spike stood on the porch at the Summers' house. *Hey, pet. You're looking smashing. No, that was bloody pathetic. Have you lost weight, luv? Well, it had worked on the pouf's cheerleader, but Buffy probably wouldn’t be pleased. Slayer’s sensitive about her weight. Goes up and down as much as her hairstyle from year to y..* ..*

Dawn stood inside, peeking through one of the panes and trying not to laugh. Spike, the Big Bad, former master vampire of the Hellmouth and vicinity, was having a silent conversation with the front door. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Dawn watched as Spike finally raised a hand to knock, then she jerked the door open.

"Sodden hell, Nibblet! Give a vampire a bleedin'--" Everything else was muffled by the girlish squeal as the former Key smothered him in a hug. After a moment, Spike returned the hug as a quick squeeze. Dawn stepped back and looked into his eyes, level with her own.

"Not meanin' to be all rude and such, but you took a decade off my unlife. Are you wearing heels?"

Long acquaintance with the vampire allowed Dawn to follow his changes of thought even when Spike didn't use turn signals. "No silly. I've grown. As living teenage girls do even when people leave without warning for months at a time. And don't write."

"We--"

"Need to talk. I know, Spike. You've got some unresolved stuff with Buffy. I can wait untou gou get that straightened out for us to have our talk."

"Okay, Little Bit. Is big sis around?" He hoped he didn't sound as pathetic as he felt.

"No, she's out patrolling." Spike stepped into the entry, then turned and looked out at Dawn still standing on the porch. That's when it hit him.

"The uninvite...?"

"We never did it again. Well, we thought about it, but it wasn't the top of the list and Willow wasn't supposed to be using magic, and then Tara died and Willow went crazy--" Dawn stopped abruptly to swallow a hiccup, and tears began to run down her face.

"Whoa, Bite Size. Back up for a mo'. Glinda's DEAD?" Dawn nodded, snuffling. She stepped inside, needing to be near him for emotional support. "How's Red doing?" Spike wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was bloody well pissed at Giles for not giving him a heads-up.

"It was so awful, Spike. Warren shot Buffy and Tara. Willow saved Buffy, then she used black magics and tortured Warren to death. She tried to end the world, Spike! It was awful. We almost all died. Again!" By this point he could barely understand the youngest Summers. Her nose was running and she kept sniffling while tears streamed.

"And now she's in the loony bin."

"But Buffy's okay now?" Spike asked.

"Why don't you ask her yourself," said a voice from the porch. "Dawn. Bed. Now." The tone was cold and hard.

Dawn closed her mouth and started upstairs. She knew that anything she said would just serve to get Buffy hopping mad, and Dawn wouldn't do that to Spike. Halfway up the stairs she turned, smiled and waved at Spike, then ran the rest of the way to her room. Spike looked over at Buffy. He found her staring at him with an intensity that was disturbing.

"Spike. Why are you here?"

"Well, luv, I was helping Rupert out with some work, and--"

"No, Spike. I know you came to help Giles research the Cross of Saint Whosit of Wheat-tree."

"Saint Timothy of Eritrea."

"Whoever. I meant why are her here, in my house, alone with my little sister?"

"Um. Yeah, well..."

"That's very British of you Spike. If you can't say it now, could we please have this conversation another time? When I'm not tired and cranky and covered with drying monster slime. Tomorrow? Magic Box?"

"Right, then. Tomorrow after sunset?"

Buffy nodded. Spike walked out the front door, shutting it carefully but firmly behind himself. Buffy stood staring at the closed door for a minute, then turned and called to the top of the stairs. "Dawn, I said bed. Don't eavesdrop. It's rude."

Dawn guiltily snuck back into her room. *At least she didn't hit Spike. I wonder if I'll be able to get to the Magic Box tomorrow evening. Spike might need someone to hear his side of the story.*


* * *

CHAPTER 6

Dawn was at the mall with Darcy. Buffy really appreciated the time alone it gave her. She needed all the time she could get to prepare. She been out running errands all morning. Why it suddenly seemed so important to get a new conditioner that was both creamy and rinsey, and to pick up her favorite skirt from the cleaners were things she did NOT want to think about. Now she was showered, dressed for the second time (her lingerie hadn't matched her outfit) and coifed. She was ready for this.

Buffy stood, facing the individual reclining on her bed. She began to pace while she spoke whas oas on her mind. "Look, we nto hto have this conversation now. I know we haven't had an opportunity to talk about it since you came back all soul-y. It's just, things weren't good before you left. But you know that. And then you left. And we heard nada from you. And now you come waltzing back into my life..."

Buffy stopped pacing and stared at the eyes that calmly regarded her. "And why do you have to be so damned inscrutable? Yes, I do know what that word means, and you're being it! You're impossible!" She turned and flounced out of the room. Mr. Gordo sat on the bed, wisely keeping his little stuffed pig thoughts to himself.


* * *

In the bathroom of the Magic Box, Spike searched for his reflection in the mirror. Not that he had really expected his reflection to return, but still. It would be nice to know when it was time to bleach his hair, instead of waiting for some smart-arse to point it out. And it would make him a little more relaxed if he could see that he looked okay. "Right, mate; get it together. Go out there and make a good impression on the Slayer." There was no response from the empty mirror.

Spike walked out into the front of the shop. Giles puttered about, pretending to be busy. "Ts mas mate. I think I can take it from here."

"Ah, very well, Spike. You're quite sure that I can't stay and..."

"What? Be a bloody extra wheel?" Spike's expression softened somewhat. "I 'preciate it, Ruperut Iut I've gotta do this myself."

"Good luck, Spike."

"Good night, Rupert."


* * *

Buffy headed downtown. She didn't even consider asking Xander for a lift. He'd want to know why she was going to the Magic Box now, and she so did not want to break the news to Xander that Spike was back in town. Besides, her walk served as a mini-patrol. And a chance to think about this.

*Okay he's back. Giles says it's just to help. And Spike says it's just to , bu, but who's he kidding? We'll just deal with this like sensible adults. If he wants to stay, fine, but he follows MY rules. There will be no non-following of rules. Self-discipline is important.* She stumbled a little as she remembered the last time she and Spike had dealt with discipline. She had lain face down over his knees, skirt up, begging Spike not to stop. Buffy felt herself flush br red red. *I am so not going there! Okay maybe not self discipline, just self-restraint.* And that started another barrage of images, with silk scarves. Handcuffs. Her own sports bra. God God.*


* * *

Spike sat at the table, waiting patiently. Or as patiently as a hyperactive resouled vampire desperately cravi nic nic-fix could wait. The bell jingled as the door opened. There she stood, a vision in white leather pants and a halter top. Hair shorter than when he left, curled since last night. She took a few more steps into the room, then ed. ed.

Spike sniffed the air, catching the scent of her perfume and... He closed his eyes so she wouldn't see them change colors. *Bloody hell. Been tryin' not to think about her like that, and she waltzes in, enticing as all get-up.*

Buffy stared at Spike. *What is he doing?* She'd seen his nostrils flare the tiniest bit, and then... *Oh God! No no no no no! Please not that.* The blush she'd finally gotten rid of on the walk here returned with a vengeance. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, willing her face to cool. *Damn vampiric sense of smell.* "Spike. Let's talk."

Spike gestured to the chairs at table behind him. He heard her sharp intake of breath. *Oh, what a bloody pillock I am!* He looked at her, and saw all the color had drained from his face. Her eyes were focused on the table. Sodden hell. Didn't even think about that incident with demon-girl. *Damn damn damn!* "Buffy. Buffy, let's go outside." He walked past her to the front dof tof the shop.

"Yes, let's." Her voice was hard and flat.


* * *

"So, what's the up for your b-day, girl?" Darcy was looking at some guys over in the Food Court as and and Dawn walked through the Sunnydale Fashion Center.

"I don't know. Buffy said yes to a mini-party, but that was before Spike came back..."

"Your sister's ex? The one who cheated on her?"

"Um, that's kind of her last three boyfriends." Dawn looked down at the floor.

"Holy shit! But this is the one that she brawled with, right?"

*Most recently.* "Yeah, they had some serious problems." *Like him sleeping with her friend's fiancé. Oh, I can see it now. 'Today on Montel: Are Slayers just doomed to have troubled relationships? hey hey just pick the wrong men and demons? Find out today!'* "But now he's back, and they're trying to smooth things out."

"You really think your sister'll take the guy back after all that?"

"I hope so."


* * *

Buffy came up the sidewalk just as Darcy pulled out of the drive and honked good-bye to Dawn. *I hope that doesn't piss off the Hendersons. And old Mrs. O'Mally.* She looked at Dawn. "Mall trip of the good?"

"As if it could be anything else. Then we hung out at the 'Nifty Fifties Diner' and pigged out. How'd the talk with Spike go?" Dawn tried to keep a hopeful note out of her voice.

"Not great. But I didn't stake him," Buffy added quickly when she saw Dawn's face start to fall.

"Well I guess that's okay," the girl formerly known as the Key replied. "So is he... different?"

"Asides from not sleeping with the first girl we bumped into, and not claiming that he loved me, not really."

Dawn unlocked the front door. "Oh. I just... He seemed... nice, y'know, last night before you showed up. And, well, Giles hasn't staked him, or demanded that he leave town as soon as we track down the Cross of Timmy."

"Yeah, that's kind of weird, isn't it?" Buffy's forehead creased. She wasn'od wod with the heavy thoughts this late at night. *I'll ask Giles about that in the morning.*


* * *