Maybe Someday. Chapter 10.
I'm going to try and write this more quickly... there is still so much story to be told. I feel like I'm only just getting started on the good stuff now! Anyway, this is sort of the first part of a two-part bit. I was writing and realised that it was getting ridiculously long, so I decided to finish the chapter now and then work hard on the next one, so if all goes well it should be done within the next week. Especially since now we're getting to the schmoop and there's even a sort-of cliff hanger! ;)
If anyone wants to catch up on this post-NFA meandering Spuffy story, previous parts can be found here.
Many hugs as usual to my incomparable beta kathyh.
Feedback makes me write more quickly...
Chapter 10
Buffy spent a great deal of time the next day just watching Spike sleep. She was certain that if she looked for long enough she’d actually see the bruises and cuts heal. Mid-morning she finally threw on some clothes and sorted things out a little. She took his clothes downstairs to the basement where the washing machines were and cleaned the coat superficially - mostly to get rid of the smell.
At one point she noticed yet another message on the answering machine (she’d turned the sound down so it wouldn’t wake her ‘patient’). Thinking that it might be Dawn she pressed ‘play’, but sighing realised that it was only Giles again: “Buffy, I’m very sorry to impose, as I’m sure you know, but having spoken to Xander and Willow we agreed that the best option in the current circumstances would be to-”. As she deleted the message, she decided that come Sunday she was going to have a really long talk with Giles, mostly consisting of: “Stop giving me stupid reports about stuff that I can do nothing about! When there is an emergency here in Rome, I’ll be happy to deal with it!” It wasn’t like she was Willow, who could do clever magic over hundreds of miles or Xander or Faith who seemed to constantly travel around the globe to deal with emergencies. And right now... she had other things on her mind.
When Spike finally woke up - possibly due to the careful inspection of of his left eyebrow that she was conducting at the time - he slowly opened his eyes, took one look at her and pulled her in to his arms in a languid hug. With his face against her stomach he muttered: “You know, I love dreams like this. Shame they don’t last!”
She giggled and tried to lift his face to look at him. “Not a dream!”
He frowned and blinked, then had a proper look at her. “Guess not... in my dreams you’re usually naked, not wearing a t-shirt that says...” he read the text and chuckled, ’My friend went to Copenhagen and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.”
He shot her a bemused glance and she explained: “Andrew! Well, he got me a statue of the Little Mermaid too, but for some reason he felt that Dawn and I needed more t-shirts...” She shrugged, knowing that he’d understand that Andrew was hardly her favourite topic of conversation.
After she had fetched him some blood, she sat down next to him on the bed and, smiling brightly, asked: “So, what were you like when you were human?”
Nearly choking he took the mug from his lips. “What?”
“What were you like when you were human? I want to know!” She looked at him firmly, willing him to talk.
He looked at her darkly and shook his head. “Not sure you’ll want to know, love.”
She frowned: “Of course I want to know! And if you want to be my boyfriend, you’d better be more co-operative!”
This, to her great satisfaction, had quite an impact. He stared at her open-mouthed: “Boyfriend? You want - what?” She smiled and explained: “Well, since I dumped The Immortal for you, it would seem logical for me to date you - it’s what you said, right? That you wanted to date? So, therefore, you are now my new boyfriend! Until you have to go do that whole world saving thing again of course!” She smiled triumphantly at him and continued: “And good boyfriends answer their girlfriend’s questions, so - what were you like when you were William?”
If she had opened the window and threatened to throw him out of it, he could hardly have looked more shocked. Still he appeared unwilling to speak, so she pressed on again: “Oh, come on! It can’t be worse than Angel, surely!”
She saw the second he gave in, just before he bowed his head in defeat. “Fine... as you wish.” He took a deep breath and met her eyes, mixed emotions playing out across his face. “I was a poet. And I lived at home with my mother whom I adored - basically I was the most pathetic bloke in all of London.”
Whatever she had imagined, it had not been this. She stared at him, eyes widening. “A poet?”
He sighed and looked down. “That’s where ‘William The Bloody’ came from - it was what they used to call me before I died, because my poetry was so bloody awful. They were right of course, but -” She stopped him before he could get any further, the embarrassment in his voice obvious. “Spike - I don’t think I ever told you, but... I love poetry!”
He lifted his face, wonder in his eyes: “You do?” She nodded. “It was one of my favourite courses at college. And the first book I bought after... after Sunnydale was a poetry book.” She jumped off the bed and dug out her book as she recalled her precious picture.
“Look, it’s even where I keep my secret picture of you!” She smiled, tears suddenly in her eyes, as she handed him her treasure.
He took the book slowly, and carefully flicked through the pages until he saw the photo. Incredulous he picked it up and stared at it. “Where did you find this? It’s ancient!”
“I stole it from a Council book!”
“You stole it?” He sounded sceptical and shot her a glance, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“Well, it’s not like they needed a picture of you and I did... I - I didn’t have anything of yours to remember you by...” her voice trailed off as a lump grew in her throat, and his eyes softened as understanding crept in.
“Buffy... I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never called, sorry I was too scared and stupid to see you - I told you I was a jerk, remember? So...” a little pause and then her heart leapt as he said the magic words she’d been hoping for: “Is there any way I can make up for it?”
She smiled sweetly and sat down next to him again, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Well, for a start you could wear the clothes I bought you...”
“Clothes?”
************
It was a long, quiet afternoon. It felt almost dreamlike, as though they had all the time in the world just to talk and get to know each other again. Buffy told him about her daily life working with 'her' Slayers - nine of them - and he told stories of what Team Angel had been up to in the last year, sometimes stopping briefly when he recalled that they were now all dead.
Later, when she’d talked him into putting on the clothes she had chosen (and really, she’d even bought a black t-shirt, surely blue jeans and brown jacket couldn’t be such a chore!), she asked if it was OK to go out for dinner that night. He really had very little say in the matter, but he agreed happily and she disappeared into the bathroom, warning him that she might take a long time!
While she was in the shower she thought she heard someone knocking on the door, but it was hard to tell - the water was loud. When she came out of the bathroom some time later, wrapped in her big fuzzy bathrobe, she thought about asking - until she saw him. He was sitting on the sofa, her poetry book open in his lap and the old photo in his hand. When he heard her he looked up automatically, only to swiftly bend his head again. But the look on his face didn’t escape her. Gone was the carefree Spike she’d chatted to previously... gone the youthful man she’d watched sleep. In his place was the vampire who’d draped himself on a cross - who’d begged for her to stake him in a dead woman’s basement.
How could he look so old, when his face was so young? All that pain and guilt that he usually kept so well hidden had for some reason come to the surface. A poem from his youth maybe? Or had the photo brought back bad memories? Knowing that there was nothing she could do she quietly went into her bedroom, sensing that he wanted to be alone... and she thought that maybe she needed to be alone too.
She’d forgotten... forgotten how hard it could be. Her brain had obviously just edited out the really difficult parts when she’d thought back. She’d been so angry with herself for not being more open with him, for not telling him her feelings sooner, for that impulsive kiss with Angel... and now she was suddenly faced with that whole big mess of stuff that she’d swept under the carpet. The awkwardness, the way some things were just too real to deal with - all those big, strong feelings that made her want to hide or run away. She sighed. At least Gilda was bound to cheer them up...
*********
Buffy loved her little local restaurant. It wasn’t particularly well decorated and the food, although very good, was nothing like she’d experienced in the expensive places The Immortal had taken her to, but it had been her and Dawn’s refuge their first night in Rome. They had arrived at their new flat only to discover that it had no electricity and no way of getting anyone to sort out it until the next day. Ever-growing hunger and a need for light had sent them wandering down the street until they’d come upon the little restaurant. Tentatively looking through the door, they’d been spotted by Gilda and been whisked to a table and then subjected to a very thorough interrogation, with the help of one of her sons. Gilda was probably around 70, although she seemed more energetic than many people half her age. She was small, but with such a steely grip on her business and family that Buffy sometimes wondered if she’d been a potential Slayer once. Having found out that her two new little customers were practically orphans, she gathered them into a hug, telling them with many words, none of which they understood, that she’d make sure they were OK now. She’d been an incredible help in the early days, explaining things that seemed to make no sense and a god-send whenever Buffy had a problem with workers at the Council-building.
She’d never brought The Immortal to see Gilda - she knew that he’d think the place too unrefined and although Gilda had a very old poster of him on the wall behind the till she disliked his current haircut, and Buffy really didn’t want to see what would happen if she started telling him off. Also the place was hers and she didn’t want it associated with any particular boyfriend. Except Spike, of course, was different...
The second they walked through the door Gilda spotted her and instantly started talking. Halfway through her oration - remembering that Buffy’s Italian was nowhere near as good as Dawn’s - she called for Marco, her oldest son, and he slowly translated the torrent, obviously also cutting down the speech to something more succinct: “She says that you have been abandoning her and she nearly sent out a - how do you say it - search party? That you will break her heart if you leave it so long between visits in the future and that because you... hurt her so very much, you will need to apologise very much if you wish to have any food tonight. And who is the handsome young man - he looks like... I don’t know the English word...”
Smiling apologetically, Buffy replied: “This is Spike... the one who I told you was dead?”
Spike had been observing the happenings with an amused smile, but as Gilda turned her attention to him, he pre-empted the likely flood of questions by smiling widely - with the charm turned to full-on flirt - then taking her hand and kissing it reverently. Looking at her, in a way that would have made Buffy very jealous indeed if it’d been directed at a younger woman, he asked, casting a glance at Marco: “Tell me, was she a beauty queen in... 1954?” The question relayed, Gilda was rendered speechless for the first time since Buffy had known her. Then her eyes lit up in utter adoration, and in a long, quickfire monologue to Marco she obviously extolled the virtues of Buffy’s date. She then disappeared into the kitchen as Marco led them to the best table and told them that his mother was going to make her most special pasta-dish and that it would be on the house.
Buffy looked at Spike once Marco had left and shook her head. “Beauty queen? Where did you get that from?”
He chuckled. “I was here back in the Fifties and there was this absolute bombshell called Gilda - she had men falling at her feet left and right, but she was seriously religious and would not entertain the notion of going off with anyone. Even Dru got jealous and wouldn’t let me pursue her.” He grinned. “Only time she ever felt threatened before you came along.”
Buffy stared at him and then started to smile. “This is just too weird!”
“Yeah, but she likes me now... that’s good right?”
She smiled gratefully. “It’s better than you can imagine!”
Wine appeared on the table a moment later, immediately followed by a starter and Buffy felt like all her daydreams had finally come true. For a while they chatted about Rome and Spike told her what it’d been like in the Fifties... before mentioning that of course if he went back a hundred years the changes became more profound. This led onto the topic of Angel and The Immortal, neither of which were very comfortable to discuss, but Buffy wanted to know about Angel’s girlfriend - did he really have one, or was that just something he’d said for fun?
Spike grinned. “Oh, no - he’s got a girlfriend alright! And very nice she is too!”
“But.... but what’s she like? I mean - how come he has a girlfriend?”
“Well, it’s all a part of the grand ‘getting-over-Buffy-plan’ that we had.”
“You’re joking!”
He smiled. “Well, a bit. Gotta hand it to the girl though, she worked hard to get him. Never have I seen anyone so clueless in my life! But - she’s a lovely girl. Perfect for him really. Name of Nina. Pretty, pleasant and - if I remember correctly - an art student. Oh - and she’s a werewolf, so not wanting a ‘normal’ life anyway...”
Buffy laughed, thinking he was joking: “Angel’s dating a werewolf?”
“Yeah - but most days of the month she’s tall and blonde. Kept seeing each other round full moon when she came to be locked up!”
Buffy just stared at him. Spike looked back:
“What? Willow dated one for years! And it’s doing him a world of good. He stops brooding for hours at a time!”
Buffy tried not to laugh at this, but didn’t succed very well. Spike smiled again.
“Oh, I had to bully him into calling her after the big battle. Took me best part of two weeks, but I had to do something. Of course it was all rather depressing, but there was no reason to let the poor girl think he was dead when he wasn’t. And the brooding was really getting to me. Why can’t he just get drunk?”
Buffy nodded, trying to come to grips with what she was hearing. “Nina... Angel and Nina... I guess it goes rather well...”
Spike smirked. “Feeling a bit jealous?”
“Wha- no, no of course not! No! I mean he can have a girlfriend if he wants, it’s just...”
Spike was now chuckling. “Expected him to sit around waitin’ until you were cookies?”
“No... well he said he would....” A thought suddenly struck her. “Does he... you know... sleep with her?”
Spike buried his head in his hands theatrically and looked up, a pained look on his face: “Why are we talking about this? Ask him yourself! And the jealousy thing is rather sweet - it’ll cheer him up.”
Buffy rolled her eyes: “Fine! But I’m not jealous! Just... kinda wigged!”
Spike shrugged. “Well, it’s not like she’s the first to try. From what the others said, there were a good few ladies who were interested. Although apart from Cordelia-”
“Cordelia??? Angel and Cordelia?? I know she worked for him, but -”
“Hey, don’t look at me! I don’t know what happened. She was in a coma when I was there. Woke up for a day and then she died - you heard about that, right?”
Buffy nodded quietly. “Yeah - people just keep dying.”
Spike picked up his wine glass and studied it absentmindedly before looking at her again, face serious. “I know. And could you... I mean... don’t mention Cordelia when Angel’s there. I don’t know what they had, but it’s obvious that he loved her. Did you know that she got visions from the Powers and became part-demon to keep them?”
She shook her head. “Cordy - part demon?”
“Wicked powers too, apparently! When she woke up Angel couldn’t stop smiling - it was scary!”
Buffy sighed. “This just keeps getting weirder...”
Shaking his head, Spike agreed: “Don’t I know it!”
He sat still for a moment, then did one of those flip-moodswings and smiled. “But let’s not talk about dead people... I - I got you something.”
Her eyes widened. “Got me something?”
He looked secretive, pleased and a bit scared. “A... A present.” He swallowed and reached into the jacket pocket with his left hand, bringing out a flat black jewellery box. With a nervous smile he handed it across the table.
tbc here.
If anyone wants to catch up on this post-NFA meandering Spuffy story, previous parts can be found here.
Many hugs as usual to my incomparable beta kathyh.
Feedback makes me write more quickly...
Chapter 10
Buffy spent a great deal of time the next day just watching Spike sleep. She was certain that if she looked for long enough she’d actually see the bruises and cuts heal. Mid-morning she finally threw on some clothes and sorted things out a little. She took his clothes downstairs to the basement where the washing machines were and cleaned the coat superficially - mostly to get rid of the smell.
At one point she noticed yet another message on the answering machine (she’d turned the sound down so it wouldn’t wake her ‘patient’). Thinking that it might be Dawn she pressed ‘play’, but sighing realised that it was only Giles again: “Buffy, I’m very sorry to impose, as I’m sure you know, but having spoken to Xander and Willow we agreed that the best option in the current circumstances would be to-”. As she deleted the message, she decided that come Sunday she was going to have a really long talk with Giles, mostly consisting of: “Stop giving me stupid reports about stuff that I can do nothing about! When there is an emergency here in Rome, I’ll be happy to deal with it!” It wasn’t like she was Willow, who could do clever magic over hundreds of miles or Xander or Faith who seemed to constantly travel around the globe to deal with emergencies. And right now... she had other things on her mind.
When Spike finally woke up - possibly due to the careful inspection of of his left eyebrow that she was conducting at the time - he slowly opened his eyes, took one look at her and pulled her in to his arms in a languid hug. With his face against her stomach he muttered: “You know, I love dreams like this. Shame they don’t last!”
She giggled and tried to lift his face to look at him. “Not a dream!”
He frowned and blinked, then had a proper look at her. “Guess not... in my dreams you’re usually naked, not wearing a t-shirt that says...” he read the text and chuckled, ’My friend went to Copenhagen and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.”
He shot her a bemused glance and she explained: “Andrew! Well, he got me a statue of the Little Mermaid too, but for some reason he felt that Dawn and I needed more t-shirts...” She shrugged, knowing that he’d understand that Andrew was hardly her favourite topic of conversation.
After she had fetched him some blood, she sat down next to him on the bed and, smiling brightly, asked: “So, what were you like when you were human?”
Nearly choking he took the mug from his lips. “What?”
“What were you like when you were human? I want to know!” She looked at him firmly, willing him to talk.
He looked at her darkly and shook his head. “Not sure you’ll want to know, love.”
She frowned: “Of course I want to know! And if you want to be my boyfriend, you’d better be more co-operative!”
This, to her great satisfaction, had quite an impact. He stared at her open-mouthed: “Boyfriend? You want - what?” She smiled and explained: “Well, since I dumped The Immortal for you, it would seem logical for me to date you - it’s what you said, right? That you wanted to date? So, therefore, you are now my new boyfriend! Until you have to go do that whole world saving thing again of course!” She smiled triumphantly at him and continued: “And good boyfriends answer their girlfriend’s questions, so - what were you like when you were William?”
If she had opened the window and threatened to throw him out of it, he could hardly have looked more shocked. Still he appeared unwilling to speak, so she pressed on again: “Oh, come on! It can’t be worse than Angel, surely!”
She saw the second he gave in, just before he bowed his head in defeat. “Fine... as you wish.” He took a deep breath and met her eyes, mixed emotions playing out across his face. “I was a poet. And I lived at home with my mother whom I adored - basically I was the most pathetic bloke in all of London.”
Whatever she had imagined, it had not been this. She stared at him, eyes widening. “A poet?”
He sighed and looked down. “That’s where ‘William The Bloody’ came from - it was what they used to call me before I died, because my poetry was so bloody awful. They were right of course, but -” She stopped him before he could get any further, the embarrassment in his voice obvious. “Spike - I don’t think I ever told you, but... I love poetry!”
He lifted his face, wonder in his eyes: “You do?” She nodded. “It was one of my favourite courses at college. And the first book I bought after... after Sunnydale was a poetry book.” She jumped off the bed and dug out her book as she recalled her precious picture.
“Look, it’s even where I keep my secret picture of you!” She smiled, tears suddenly in her eyes, as she handed him her treasure.
He took the book slowly, and carefully flicked through the pages until he saw the photo. Incredulous he picked it up and stared at it. “Where did you find this? It’s ancient!”
“I stole it from a Council book!”
“You stole it?” He sounded sceptical and shot her a glance, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“Well, it’s not like they needed a picture of you and I did... I - I didn’t have anything of yours to remember you by...” her voice trailed off as a lump grew in her throat, and his eyes softened as understanding crept in.
“Buffy... I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never called, sorry I was too scared and stupid to see you - I told you I was a jerk, remember? So...” a little pause and then her heart leapt as he said the magic words she’d been hoping for: “Is there any way I can make up for it?”
She smiled sweetly and sat down next to him again, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Well, for a start you could wear the clothes I bought you...”
“Clothes?”
************
It was a long, quiet afternoon. It felt almost dreamlike, as though they had all the time in the world just to talk and get to know each other again. Buffy told him about her daily life working with 'her' Slayers - nine of them - and he told stories of what Team Angel had been up to in the last year, sometimes stopping briefly when he recalled that they were now all dead.
Later, when she’d talked him into putting on the clothes she had chosen (and really, she’d even bought a black t-shirt, surely blue jeans and brown jacket couldn’t be such a chore!), she asked if it was OK to go out for dinner that night. He really had very little say in the matter, but he agreed happily and she disappeared into the bathroom, warning him that she might take a long time!
While she was in the shower she thought she heard someone knocking on the door, but it was hard to tell - the water was loud. When she came out of the bathroom some time later, wrapped in her big fuzzy bathrobe, she thought about asking - until she saw him. He was sitting on the sofa, her poetry book open in his lap and the old photo in his hand. When he heard her he looked up automatically, only to swiftly bend his head again. But the look on his face didn’t escape her. Gone was the carefree Spike she’d chatted to previously... gone the youthful man she’d watched sleep. In his place was the vampire who’d draped himself on a cross - who’d begged for her to stake him in a dead woman’s basement.
How could he look so old, when his face was so young? All that pain and guilt that he usually kept so well hidden had for some reason come to the surface. A poem from his youth maybe? Or had the photo brought back bad memories? Knowing that there was nothing she could do she quietly went into her bedroom, sensing that he wanted to be alone... and she thought that maybe she needed to be alone too.
She’d forgotten... forgotten how hard it could be. Her brain had obviously just edited out the really difficult parts when she’d thought back. She’d been so angry with herself for not being more open with him, for not telling him her feelings sooner, for that impulsive kiss with Angel... and now she was suddenly faced with that whole big mess of stuff that she’d swept under the carpet. The awkwardness, the way some things were just too real to deal with - all those big, strong feelings that made her want to hide or run away. She sighed. At least Gilda was bound to cheer them up...
*********
Buffy loved her little local restaurant. It wasn’t particularly well decorated and the food, although very good, was nothing like she’d experienced in the expensive places The Immortal had taken her to, but it had been her and Dawn’s refuge their first night in Rome. They had arrived at their new flat only to discover that it had no electricity and no way of getting anyone to sort out it until the next day. Ever-growing hunger and a need for light had sent them wandering down the street until they’d come upon the little restaurant. Tentatively looking through the door, they’d been spotted by Gilda and been whisked to a table and then subjected to a very thorough interrogation, with the help of one of her sons. Gilda was probably around 70, although she seemed more energetic than many people half her age. She was small, but with such a steely grip on her business and family that Buffy sometimes wondered if she’d been a potential Slayer once. Having found out that her two new little customers were practically orphans, she gathered them into a hug, telling them with many words, none of which they understood, that she’d make sure they were OK now. She’d been an incredible help in the early days, explaining things that seemed to make no sense and a god-send whenever Buffy had a problem with workers at the Council-building.
She’d never brought The Immortal to see Gilda - she knew that he’d think the place too unrefined and although Gilda had a very old poster of him on the wall behind the till she disliked his current haircut, and Buffy really didn’t want to see what would happen if she started telling him off. Also the place was hers and she didn’t want it associated with any particular boyfriend. Except Spike, of course, was different...
The second they walked through the door Gilda spotted her and instantly started talking. Halfway through her oration - remembering that Buffy’s Italian was nowhere near as good as Dawn’s - she called for Marco, her oldest son, and he slowly translated the torrent, obviously also cutting down the speech to something more succinct: “She says that you have been abandoning her and she nearly sent out a - how do you say it - search party? That you will break her heart if you leave it so long between visits in the future and that because you... hurt her so very much, you will need to apologise very much if you wish to have any food tonight. And who is the handsome young man - he looks like... I don’t know the English word...”
Smiling apologetically, Buffy replied: “This is Spike... the one who I told you was dead?”
Spike had been observing the happenings with an amused smile, but as Gilda turned her attention to him, he pre-empted the likely flood of questions by smiling widely - with the charm turned to full-on flirt - then taking her hand and kissing it reverently. Looking at her, in a way that would have made Buffy very jealous indeed if it’d been directed at a younger woman, he asked, casting a glance at Marco: “Tell me, was she a beauty queen in... 1954?” The question relayed, Gilda was rendered speechless for the first time since Buffy had known her. Then her eyes lit up in utter adoration, and in a long, quickfire monologue to Marco she obviously extolled the virtues of Buffy’s date. She then disappeared into the kitchen as Marco led them to the best table and told them that his mother was going to make her most special pasta-dish and that it would be on the house.
Buffy looked at Spike once Marco had left and shook her head. “Beauty queen? Where did you get that from?”
He chuckled. “I was here back in the Fifties and there was this absolute bombshell called Gilda - she had men falling at her feet left and right, but she was seriously religious and would not entertain the notion of going off with anyone. Even Dru got jealous and wouldn’t let me pursue her.” He grinned. “Only time she ever felt threatened before you came along.”
Buffy stared at him and then started to smile. “This is just too weird!”
“Yeah, but she likes me now... that’s good right?”
She smiled gratefully. “It’s better than you can imagine!”
Wine appeared on the table a moment later, immediately followed by a starter and Buffy felt like all her daydreams had finally come true. For a while they chatted about Rome and Spike told her what it’d been like in the Fifties... before mentioning that of course if he went back a hundred years the changes became more profound. This led onto the topic of Angel and The Immortal, neither of which were very comfortable to discuss, but Buffy wanted to know about Angel’s girlfriend - did he really have one, or was that just something he’d said for fun?
Spike grinned. “Oh, no - he’s got a girlfriend alright! And very nice she is too!”
“But.... but what’s she like? I mean - how come he has a girlfriend?”
“Well, it’s all a part of the grand ‘getting-over-Buffy-plan’ that we had.”
“You’re joking!”
He smiled. “Well, a bit. Gotta hand it to the girl though, she worked hard to get him. Never have I seen anyone so clueless in my life! But - she’s a lovely girl. Perfect for him really. Name of Nina. Pretty, pleasant and - if I remember correctly - an art student. Oh - and she’s a werewolf, so not wanting a ‘normal’ life anyway...”
Buffy laughed, thinking he was joking: “Angel’s dating a werewolf?”
“Yeah - but most days of the month she’s tall and blonde. Kept seeing each other round full moon when she came to be locked up!”
Buffy just stared at him. Spike looked back:
“What? Willow dated one for years! And it’s doing him a world of good. He stops brooding for hours at a time!”
Buffy tried not to laugh at this, but didn’t succed very well. Spike smiled again.
“Oh, I had to bully him into calling her after the big battle. Took me best part of two weeks, but I had to do something. Of course it was all rather depressing, but there was no reason to let the poor girl think he was dead when he wasn’t. And the brooding was really getting to me. Why can’t he just get drunk?”
Buffy nodded, trying to come to grips with what she was hearing. “Nina... Angel and Nina... I guess it goes rather well...”
Spike smirked. “Feeling a bit jealous?”
“Wha- no, no of course not! No! I mean he can have a girlfriend if he wants, it’s just...”
Spike was now chuckling. “Expected him to sit around waitin’ until you were cookies?”
“No... well he said he would....” A thought suddenly struck her. “Does he... you know... sleep with her?”
Spike buried his head in his hands theatrically and looked up, a pained look on his face: “Why are we talking about this? Ask him yourself! And the jealousy thing is rather sweet - it’ll cheer him up.”
Buffy rolled her eyes: “Fine! But I’m not jealous! Just... kinda wigged!”
Spike shrugged. “Well, it’s not like she’s the first to try. From what the others said, there were a good few ladies who were interested. Although apart from Cordelia-”
“Cordelia??? Angel and Cordelia?? I know she worked for him, but -”
“Hey, don’t look at me! I don’t know what happened. She was in a coma when I was there. Woke up for a day and then she died - you heard about that, right?”
Buffy nodded quietly. “Yeah - people just keep dying.”
Spike picked up his wine glass and studied it absentmindedly before looking at her again, face serious. “I know. And could you... I mean... don’t mention Cordelia when Angel’s there. I don’t know what they had, but it’s obvious that he loved her. Did you know that she got visions from the Powers and became part-demon to keep them?”
She shook her head. “Cordy - part demon?”
“Wicked powers too, apparently! When she woke up Angel couldn’t stop smiling - it was scary!”
Buffy sighed. “This just keeps getting weirder...”
Shaking his head, Spike agreed: “Don’t I know it!”
He sat still for a moment, then did one of those flip-moodswings and smiled. “But let’s not talk about dead people... I - I got you something.”
Her eyes widened. “Got me something?”
He looked secretive, pleased and a bit scared. “A... A present.” He swallowed and reached into the jacket pocket with his left hand, bringing out a flat black jewellery box. With a nervous smile he handed it across the table.
tbc here.