Part Three: All Work
She ended up purchasing a strappy black number with shots of silver streaks and thigh-high leg-slits. Buffy typically wasn’t one for black but felt this dress provided an elegant, adult touch which fit the emotional levels she’d breached over the year. And in that, it was perfect. So much better than the pink thing she’d considered. Spike did not strike her as someone who went well with pink, and even so, pastels were for teenagers. Buffy no longer felt like a teenager. She had moved mountains in just a few weeks, gone from a relationship with a man who could not accept her to one who loved her as she was. Thus the black was sublime. All she needed now was some killer shoes and an appointment with Sunnydale’s one and only hair boutique, and prom would become her live-in fairytale.
The night was looking better and better. Spike was scheduled to meet her at the cemetery in thirty so they could snag some QT. She knew it was dangerous pretending everything was all right when there were dangerous factors like Faith and the Mayor and the Ascension looming in the very near future, but until things started hopping or they found a new lead, there wasn’t much she could do about it. So she might as well enjoy the quiet while it lasted.
And even with all of this—the Mayor, what they’d learned thanks to Willow’s brilliant page-snatching, and the sense of doom lurking on the horizon—these past few weeks had been some of the best in her life.
And yeah, that was because of Spike.
Buffy grinned and pushed her front door open, her dress slung over her shoulder. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw it on her.
“Buffy?”
She turned. “Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”
Joyce Summers appeared around the corner behind the stairs. “Just making sure. Oh…did you get your prom dress?”
“I did.”
“And how much did it cost me?”
Buffy plastered on an innocent-daughter grin, fishing out and forking over a thoroughly heated credit card. “I love you, Mommy.”
“Uh huh. I’ll bet.” Joyce bristled. “Are you going to be in for supper?”
“I don’t think so. Spike and I are taking patrol tonight, just in case Faith decides to make things interesting.” She shrugged. “I’m banking a no for that, but you never know with her. We’ll probably go grab pizza or something after that.”
Joyce nodded. “Okay. I just thought I’d ask.”
“Thanks. You know, we can bring you back something if you’d like. Cooking for one’s not as much fun.”
“Ah, the joys of takeout. Dinner minus dishes. I might have to take you up on that.”
Buffy nodded, making a break for the stairs. “All right. Just let me know. I gotta go freshen up. Meeting Spike in about a half hour.”
“You’re meeting…? Sweetie, he’s upstairs.”
Buffy frowned, her eyes trailing upstairs. “He is?”
“Yes. He came in through the basement about an hour ago.” Joyce’s expression turned grave. “Buffy, I know there are things that you think you’re old enough for, things you’ve already done and therefore think you can handle, but—”
“Mom, I swear I didn’t know he was coming over.”
“That’s not the point. I know very well that you—”
Buffy held up a hand. “Yes. I know the drill. Sex is evil and bad and I should not remove my chastity belt until I’m in my late forties. Was there already, got the memo.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Joyce sighed. “I know this isn’t exactly the time for one of Mom’s spiels, but I worry about you. You’re taking on so much for a girl your age. And while Spike is probably one of the better developments that I’ve seen, I want you to be careful in the decisions you make.”
She couldn’t help but grin at that. “You really think that Spike’s one of the better developments?”
“Well, I’m not crazy about the vampire thing, but he’s well-mannered, polite, and he cares for you a great deal.”
Well-mannered and polite? Oh yeah. Her boyfriend knew how to charm the Mother.
“I know it happened fast,” Buffy said. “But I’m being careful.”
Joyce nodded. “I know you are, sweetie. You can’t blame a mom for worrying, though. Especially when my daughter is out saving the world every night.”
“Well…not every night.” Buffy nodded to the stairs. “I better go see what he’s doing here so early.”
The sight upon entering her room warmed her heart. In all honesty, she hadn’t known what to expect. With Spike it was never any one thing. He filled seconds with large gestures disguised as small ones. When they’d made their relationship public, he had dropped by early to cook Joyce supper while assuring her that though, yes, he was evil, he would never endanger the life of her only daughter.
In his own words, “Been there, tried that, fell head bloody over. Can’t get much worse. Oi! Watch the ribs, love.”
Still, nothing could have prepared her for what greeted her in the bedroom.
Spike was reclined on her bed, reading.
Reading Lord of the Flies.
Buffy blinked. Hard.
Oh. My. God.
He glanced up as soon as he sensed her presence and a grin spread across his face. “Evenin’ sweetheart,” he greeted, rolling to his feet. “How was school?”
He was here to help her with her homework.
That had to be the sweetest thing she had ever seen.
Unfortunately, she was too flabbergasted to manipulate words. “Spike…”
He held up the book. “Bloody brilliant piece of literature, this is. Thought I’d try to help you with that paper and all. ‘Course, that required upping my knowledge on all things Golding. This is heavy on the symbolism. And the story’s not half bad, either.”
“Spike, you didn’t have to—”
“Hush now. I wanted to.” A warm smile lit up his eyes, and he leaned in and kissed her. “Not like I have anything better to do, right? What’s the assignment again? Just a paper?”
Buffy nodded numbly. “Metaphor analysis.”
“Oh, no bloody problem there. We’ll tackle it when we get back from patrol, all right?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, instead glancing to the package wrapped in cellophane. “What’s that? Get your prom dress?”
Buffy scowled and jerked the dress further behind her back. “Hey! No peeking!”
“Aw, come on, pet…”
“Prom’s in two nights, Spike. Give it a rest.”
“So? A bloke can’t be excited about takin’ his girl to the biggest bloody event of the year?” He chuckled and kissed her again. “You’re gonna look ravishing.”
“So says you.”
“Bloody right, so says me. You could show up in a doormat and you’d sweep every bloke off his feet.” He let the thought rest a minute before frowning. “Then I’d have to put a stop to it, ’cause I bloody well couldn’t have you teasing any bloke but yours truly.”
Buffy shook her head in amazement, crossing the room to secure her dress in the closet. “I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “You really read that book to help me?”
Spike shrugged. “Why not?”
“You really didn’t have to.”
“I know that. What else am I gonna do through the day? Life’s bloody boring when you’re not around. It was either this or the telly, and the telly’ll keep.” He waved the book. “This has loads. Adventure, death, blood, more death, the root of all evil. What’s not to like?”
She smirked. “Why do I suddenly feel that this was a bad idea after all?”
“I can’t imagine what you mean.” Spike flashed an innocent smile and shrugged, then mimed fisting a long spear. “’Kill the pig, slit her throat, spill her blood.’“
A girlish giggle tumbled from her lips. She’d been doing a lot more of that recently. “I think,” she said, extending a hand, “it’s time someone handed over the book.”
Spike offered a petulant pout that was almost too yummy for words. “Why? It’s getting to the good part.”
“And how would you know?”
“’Cause I think Simon’s about to kick it.”
She scowled and whapped him across the arm. Hard. “Don’t tell me what happens!”
“What? You actually gonna read this thing?”
“Well, if it’s so good, yeah!”
Spike arched an eyebrow.
Buffy pouted. “Fine. Okay. You win. So reading and Buffy are nonmixy things. You don’t have to rub it in.”
“I’m not doin’ any rubbing,” he protested, hands coming up—book and all. The mock-innocent look on his face remained only seconds before melting into a smirk that had her melting faster than she liked when she was pretending to be irritated. “Not yet, anyway.”
His eyes clearly stated he would have her on her back in two seconds flat unless she did something about it. Spike was a sexual being, and he would be the first to admit it. His relationship with Drusilla had been, from all accounts, intensely physical. And while Spike was far beyond Drusilla, he was similarly starved for contact because it was the only thing he had known. It proved to him that Buffy was real, and really his. He needed touch, any sort of touch.
And Buffy gave it to him, though she was careful to pace herself.
“Hold on,” she said. “Remember, patrol? We actually have to get some of that done tonight.”
He nodded and placed the book aside without another word. “Lead the way, then. I’m all yours.”
She tossed a coy wink over her shoulder and nodded. “Damn straight.”
“Villainous minx.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
He snickered. “Like I could.”
*~*~*
“Just the usual rounds tonight?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Spike frowned. “What you said last night got me thinking. If the big bang’s coming soon, why aren’t you saddling up the horses? The Mayor bloke looked pretty straight-faced about this Ascension business, if you ask me. And we’re, what, waiting for him? Why aren’t we going in to save the bloody day before anyone knows that it needs saving? Isn’t that what you hero-types do? Mess up a perfectly good evil plan?”
“Yeah. Well, trouble is, there’s nothing we really can do until he makes a move. You’ve seen the Mayor’s get-up, and security’s on the up now since time’s growing closer and he’s wise to our habit of breaking and entering.” Buffy frowned, squeezing his hand. “What’s wrong? Why the sudden wig? You’re not worried, are you?”
At that, he scoffed, kicking petulantly at a circle of dirt. “What? Worried? You’re off your bird.”
“Oh my god, you’re worried.”
“Am not.” He shifted uneasily. “You just…don’t seem to be takin’ it as seriously as you should, pet. And I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“So in laymen’s terms, you’re worried.”
Spike rolled his eyes.
Buffy grinned and kissed his cheek. “That’s cute.”
“Is not.”
“Trust me. It’s adorable.”
“I just…”
“Don’t want anything to happen to me.” She squeezed his hand again. “I know. Me, either. For the first time in ever, my life is going all right. High school’s almost over, my mother and I are on good terms, my friends and I are still friends, and I got me a hot boyfriend.”
“Say that last part again, just for my benefit.”
She ignored him. His ego was large enough. “And yes, an imminent apocalypse is of the very bad. But we’re on it. Will got those pages and Giles and Wesley are practically up twenty-four/seven trying to crack the code. We patrol, albeit patrol is slow, and we live. This is how we do things. It’s how we’ve always done things.”
“Need I remind you that the world nearly ended last year?”
She batted a hand. “It nearly ends every year. Where have you been?”
“Buffy—”
“I know. I’m a casual superhero. I don’t even wear a cape.”
He grumbled. “You terrify me,” he whispered, shaking his head and running a hand through his platinum strands. “And the thing is, I know if it’s not this, it’ll be somethin’ else. Somethin’ worse. And you’ll fight it because that’s who you are. And I’ll be terrified.”
Buffy stood, flabbergasted. That was the last thing she had expected him to say.
“I just got this, luv. And I know you’re going on with business as usual. I guess. It just seems…”
She pursed her lips, tease melting away. “All this because of what I said last night? About the big being just around the corner?”
He hesitated, then nodded.
“It’s all a part of the package, Spike.”
“I know. It just worries me.”
Buffy smiled and leaned in to give him a reassuring kiss. “Well, don’t worry. If anything, we’ll go down together. You’re gonna be in the big fight, too.”
“Better bloody well believe it.”
“We’re gonna be prepared. In the meantime, there’s patrol and prom and all that good stuff to look forward to.” She snuggled into his side, hooking an arm through his.
“You’re sweet,” she told him a few minutes later.
“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone. It’ll kill my image.”
She arched an eyebrow at that. “You’re the Slayer’s boyfriend, Spike. Consider your image killed.”
Spike shook his head good-naturedly, squeezing her tighter. “You’re hell on a bloke’s ego.”
“I might have to stroke it later then, huh?”
He grinned and leaned nearer, rustling her hair with his breath. “Tell you what, baby,” he said. “You can stroke mine if I can get a little taste of yours.”
Maybe one day it would take more than just his voice to turn her on. Maybe. But today was not that day. Buffy pressed her thighs together. “You’re bad.”
“You started it.”
“So tell me about Lord of the Flies.”
Spike arched a cool brow. “This your way of changing the subject?”
“Yeah. It working?”
“Lemme put it this way…” He grinned, slipping an arm around her waist, dipping his hand beneath the waistband of her pants so he could trace her sensitive skin. Then he began talking again. “Golding begins the book with Ralph and Piggy, two little tykes who’ve survived a plane crash or some rot and find themselves on this island—”
“Spike.”
“Sweetheart?”
“You’re really bad.”
He chuckled again. “So they tell me.”