Chapter 46: Phone Call
Spike stirred in the bed, stretching lazily like a big cat. His hand fell on the empty spot next to him and he froze. For a second, he was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to find that it was all just a dream. The events of the last few days, to the exception of being shot maybe, certainly seemed too good to be true. The Slayer back in his bed. Not only that, but the Slayer in love with him. Not just the Slayer. His Childe. All too good. If he opened his eyes, he was sure he would find himself back in the crypt. Alone. So he just kept them tightly shut, trying to hang on to the good memories for just a little longer.
Then he heard it. Water. A shower. Someone humming. His eyes snapped open, and though the room was only dimly lit, he could see the sky above him. Their sky. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he pulled himself out of the tangled sheets. Following the light humming, he walked quietly to the half open door that connected directly to the bathroom. Still silent, he drew the curtain just a little and climbed in the tub behind Buffy, his arms wrapping around her soapy waist, his face nuzzling the back of her neck. She gave a little start at first, then relaxed in his embrace, leaning back against him. He let the hot water run over them both. The feel of her skin, warmed by the shower, slowly erased that awful feeling that it had all been just a dream.
He was quite content just as they were, but soon it became clear she had other ideas in mind. She started slightly wiggling against him, awakening his desire yet again.
“Insatiable,” he whispered as he licked her earlobe.
She twisted in his arms until she was facing him, and soon her mouth found his. He felt her leg come up, wrap around him, pushing against his flesh a wetness that wasn’t due to the shower. Her small hand reached down between their bodies, grasping.
“Buffy! You’re in there? Phone! It’s Giles!”
For a second, they remained immobile and silent, their eyes doing all the talking. Finish what they had only begun or answer what could be an important call? They would have time later for much more. Buffy’s mouth pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip a little, as her leg glided back down.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Dawnie, just rinsing my hair, ok?”
Spike didn’t hear Dawn’s reply, nor did he have time to realize that Buffy’s hair didn’t need to be rinsed, because as she was talking she knelt in the tub in front of him, and for a little while, his mind couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Trying not to grin too much, Buffy hurried down the steps, wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe, drying her hair with a towel. She took the phone Dawn was handing her and leaned against the counter.
“Hi Giles.”
“Hello Buffy. I trust I didn’t wake you?”
‘No, but your timing was kind of lousy.’
“No, I was awake. Anything new?”
There was a slight pause, and in her mind Buffy could picture her Watcher taking his glasses off and cleaning them pensively. Maybe if she listened carefully enough she could hear it, she thought, amused.
“Well, yes, I might have found what you are looking for.”
Buffy took a deep unneeded breath. She had been so sure he wasn’t even searching.
“However,” he continued, “before I tell you what I found, I wish to talk to Spike. Could you arrange for him to be at the Magic Box around 8 tonight?”
She frowned slightly at that, before remembering that Giles had left before she asked Spike to move in.
“Uh, Giles, it won’t be necessary. Spike is here. Now.”
Again, one of these heavy silences that made her slightly nervous.
“Spike is in your house. At 9 in the morning.”
Slight questioning, but mostly resignation.
“Yes Giles. He lives here. With me.”
Despite herself, Buffy found that her voice was almost hesitant. She wasn’t ashamed to admit her relationship with Spike. She just knew that, once again, she was disappointing Giles. He gave out a loud sigh, before mumbling:
“I guess that explains a few things. Could you put him on the phone please?”
A minute later, Spike was taking the phone. He had put on some clothes after she had left him. Black jeans, black tshirt, some things would never change. She rested her head on his chest as he talked to Giles, and his free hand settled on her back, caressing lightly. She listened to the one sided conversation, wishing she could hear Giles too.
“Watcher.”
She had never realized before how she loved all the nicknames he gave to everyone. Some of them were certainly insulting, but they were reserved to people he loved to hate. Poof. Whelp. Come to think of it, he hadn’t called Xander like that in a while, settling instead on a more neutral, if not warmer, ‘Harris’. Red and Glinda, the Witches, Demon-girl. esteem for their powers? Nibblet, Little Bit, pure affection. Slayer and Watcher, these were titles, used with respect even when his voice was harsh or mocking.
“No I don’t! And the next person who insinuates that will have a close encounter with my fists. Even if I get a sodding headache from it. Even if I have to go all the way to bloody England.”
Almost a growl, that threat. He could get angry so fast. She was sure if she looked up she would find gold flakes in his eyes. She could guess what he was denying, and she almost took the phone and tell Giles herself that she wasn’t controlled by her Sire. Instead, she let her hands run against his sides, soothing. Quick to get angry, but also quick to lose the anger.
“I know, Watcher. Same for me. I have to protect her. And I do.”
Imperceptibly, the hand on her back pressed her closer to him. Every time he said anything about protecting her, part of her wanted to slap him for even daring to think that she couldn’t take care of herself. Another part wanted to melt at how safe he made her feel.
“Why I want it out? That’s the most stupid.”
Oh, there they were. The heart of the matter. The chip.
“Heard about the bloody idiots who have been messing up with our Slayer the past few months? Humans, all three of them. She had to fight them. I couldn’t do anything. If I had been able to, we might have avoided being shot. Next time that happens, I want to help.”
She frowned a little, making the silent wish that no other humans would get in their heads to be Sunnydale’s next Big Bads. Demons were so much easier to deal with. Just slay them. No need for the police or lengthy explanations.
“Yes we’ve been shot. Her and me.”
Instinctively, her hand slipped under his tshirt, her fingers softly searching the fading scar on his chest.
“Ever heard of a vamp taken by a bullet? Don’t be daft, Watcher. These things hurt like hell, but they don’t kill us.”
She winced at the memory of the pain. Hurt like hell, indeed.
A loud and annoyed sigh.
“No I wouldn’t have killed the idiots. I would have knocked them out, that’s all. I can restrain myself.”
The anger was coming back, contained but present.
“I just know I can. And you know she would stake me if I couldn’t anyway.”
Another thing that would hurt like hell. Just the thought of staking him hurt. The thought of living without him hurt. Without doubt, she would stake him if he started killing again. And then, she would mix her ashes to his.
A long pause. Buffy wondered what Giles was saying. She could discern his voice, but not the words. Then Spike’s arm on her back moved away as he turned his back to her. She wondered what was wrong, before realizing he was looking for a pen and paper on the counter.
“Go ahead.”
She circled his body with her arms as he wrote, a small smile coming to her lips. So, Giles trusted him too, after all.
“Got it. ‘Will let you know how it turns out.”
Short pause.
“Thank you.”
Another pause.
“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Have a real beer for me, Watcher.”
The phone made a small sound as Spike hung up. He turned in her embrace until her face was against his chest again, this time both of his hands rubbing her back.
“Your Watcher found someone who might help me, pet. A human doctor, who worked for the Council of wankers for a while. ‘Not sure I want to know what he was doing for them. Anyway, old Rupert thinks he’s a decent bloke.”
Buffy raised her face to look at his features. He looked strangely calm, as if he didn’t dare hope too much. Her hand brushed against the sharp cheekbones, and he leaned into her touch.
“Do we have to go to London to meet that doctor?” she asked softly.
He had a quiet giggle.
“No luv, we won’t need to go that far. It seems that the guy found a second career as a plastic surgeon for Hollywood starlets.”
“LA?”
He nodded, a grin touching his lips, and she understood why. All this search for demons and spells, when the answer was maybe two hours away. Soon, they would know.
“I want to come.”
In the same movement, they turned to Dawn who was standing in the kitchen’s doorway, arms crossed, a look of pure determination on her face. Buffy wondered for how long she had been standing there.
“When you go to LA, I want to come,” she repeated.
“Dawnie, it’s not a vacation trip. We’ll just stay there long enough to meet the doctor, have him operate Spike if he can, and then we’ll be back home.”
“I can still come,” the teen insisted. “I haven’t been in LA in, like, forever. I don’t know, I could visit dad or something.”
The last part puzzled Buffy immensely. Dawn hadn’t said a word about their father since he hadn’t shown up for Joyce’s funeral, much less expressed the wish to see him.
She felt Spike chuckle softly against her back, and half turned to look at his smirking face.
“Come on, Bit,” he said teasingly. “Are you sure it’s your dad you want to see?”
Buffy glanced back at Dawn, who was blushing brightly.
“You realize,” Spike continued, still teasing, “that if you go visit him, you’ll probably have to see the poof too. I thought I heard you swear once that you’d never go anywhere where he was?”
By now, Dawn’s face was crimson, a mix of embarrassment and anger at being teased. Buffy, still, didn’t understand what Spike was hinting at. She faced him again, questioning silently.
“Nibblet wants to see Steven,” he said in a conspirator’s tone.
Buffy first frowned, then her eyes widened. Only one word was coming to her mind. Duh.
“So,” Dawn asked hesitantly, “Can I come?”