Fic "That Look of Peace..."
Author: Scarlet Ibis
Title: That Look of Peace…
Rating: PG-15
Season/Pairing: BtVS season 5/Spuffy
Genre(s): General
Summary: More fill in the blank moments from “Fool For Love,” “Intervention,” and “Tough Love.”
Status: Complete.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I make any kind of money from writing about them. This is all in good fun and for non profit entertainment purposes only.
The tears came rushing forth as unbidden thoughts entered her mind-her mom going to the hospital; her mom needing surgery; her mom getting worse…
She put her face in her hands, slowly dragging her fingers upward and through her hair in distress. She felt incredibly lost, and her fears were beginning to consume her. The sound of a gun cocking broke her from her thoughts. Though she was annoyed it was Spike, she was near elated for the distraction.
“What do you want now?” she asked in agitation, staring at Spike as he looked at her coldly before looking a bit confused.
He gripped the shot gun tightly and asked her, “What’s wrong?” Her overt pain, conversely, drove him to distraction. Buffy turned her head away from him at the question.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Spike tilted his head in thought, lowering his gun. His concern for her well being eclipsed his desire for revenge.
He hesitated for a moment, and then asked earnestly, “Is there something I can do?” Buffy slowly turned her head towards him again, though still not looking at him. Spike could tell by the expression on her face that she was deeply confused by the fact that it was he who was asking, or perhaps she was merely unsure of the answer. But she said nothing.
Spike, all the while keeping his eyes on her, sat down beside the Slayer on the stairs, laying the shot gun at his side. In an awkward tentativeness, he patted her on the back in an attempt to comfort her. She swallowed a bit, feeling her tears recede, and let him.
After a moment, Spike pulled his hand back, clasping it with the other in front of him as he sat next to the silent Slayer, both staring at the night sky and the smattering of stars that glistened in it.
“It’s… it’s my mom.”
Spike’s head snapped up to look at her.
“Joyce? What’s wrong?”
“She um…” Buffy paused, wiping at her eyes. “She’s been having a few problems-fainting spells and…she’s going to stay overnight at the hospital.”
“Oh… But you don’t know anything for sure?” Buffy shook her head, sniffling slightly.
“Well, that’s kind of a good thing, isn’t it?”
“What?”
Spike could see the anger start to build within her, and began to quickly explain.
“Hold on now, love. I just meant that you’re getting yourself all worked up, and you’re not even sure what the problem is-if there’s even a problem to begin with. Your mum’s a strong lady. One of the toughest birds I’ve ever come across, in fact, and that’s saying something.”
“Spike, I just-”
“Just saying, don’t get panicked until you know for sure there’s something to be panicked about. And if there is a problem, at least you have a head start on it, yeha?”
Buffy exhaled, sadness still evident in her eyes, but she began to look a bit more at ease.
“I guess you’re right. Better to know now than…” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to keep her emotions in check.
“Come now, Slayer. You’ve gotta hold it together-at least around her. I’m sure she doesn’t want you to worry, and seeing evidence of it won’t help matters. I’m not…not saying that it’s wrong to cry. In fact it’s good; let it all out. Just try not to do it where Joyce can see it, okay?”
“Then when’s a good time?”
“You can now if you want. I won’t tell.”
Buffy eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
Spike sighed, tucking some of her mussed hair behind her ear.
“Cause, I know what it’s like. My mum was sickly. And bottling it up like that… it’ll lead to no place good. End up breaking down at a most inconvenient time, I’m sure. And what’ll Joyce do then if you get hurt?” he asked her softly.
“I don’t… I don’t want my mom to worry,” she confessed, her eyes watering again. “I just want everything to be alright.” She put her hand to her mouth as she began to cry again. She didn’t resist when Spike pulled her slightly shaking form towards him, wrapping his arm around him. He stroked her hair softly and remained silent as she cried it all out.
Buffy realized that it felt good to not be the strong one, at least, for a little while…
*~*~*~*
She hesitated at the threshold for a moment, fighting the strong urge within her to flee. Buffy gave two soft knocks, and opened the crypt door with gentleness and finesse that she was not aware was even possible when it came to dealing with him.
“Spike?” she called out softly in spite of her thumping heart, stepping inside.
“Slayer? What are you…what are you doin’ here in this neck of the woods?” he slurred out. He was leaning by the fridge, looking more bruised and battered than he had the day before, if it was possible.
“I figured…you couldn’t get around and that you, ya know, needed some blood?” She pulled out a blue thermos from the grocery bag in her hand.
“Ninety-eight point six, is it?” He gave her a crooked grin. The comment invoked in her several memories, making her blush. She mentally shook the images away.
“I bought you some Wheatabix for it. For texture, right?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, watching her as she walked further into the crypt, heading towards the sarcophagus.
“And some cigarettes, cause I wasn’t sure if you ran out of those. I know how you like to smoke like a chimney. And of course-”
“Buffy,” he called out, making her pause in her ramblings. She placed the bag slowly atop the sarcophagus before turning to him.
“Why are you…What is this?”
She picked up the thermos and walked over to him. Unscrewing the cap, she handed it to him.
“I need you well, Spike. You’re the best fighter I have. And I figured if I’m gonna play nursemaid, well…might as well attempt to go the full nine, right?” Buffy hoped she didn’t sound nervous. She watched him as he sniffed at the blood, brow crinkled, putting it to his lips slowly.
“It’s fresh. I know it would help you heal all that much faster if-”
“Bloody hell!” he rasped, looking at her in shock. “What did you-”
“I was at the hospital. I know that you need-”
“But this is…Buffy,” he whispered. He felt beyond speechless, already knowing to an extent what she had done. She pulled back her sleeve, showing him the band aid atop a piece of cotton on the juncture of her upper and forearm.
“Human blood works faster than animal blood, and Slayer blood works best of all.”
He just looked at her with his one good eye in a cross between awe and confusion.
“I…donated some blood, and just swiped it afterwards. It was mine, after all,” she added hastily.
“Right,” he croaked out.
“Right,” she repeated, not looking at him. “I’ll go get that Wheatabix.” She turned away, heading to his sarcophagus. He hobbled after her.
They sat in silence atop the sarcophagus, Spike crumbling the crackers into the blood, sipping it slow as she watched, swinging her legs back and forth, her boots clanking against the stone on each impact.
“I’ll stop by the butcher’s tomorrow. Bring you some more. Pigs, I mean.”
“Ok,” he said softly after a huge gulp.
“Spike?”
His head shot up, looking at her intently.
“Yeah, love?”
“Why do you… why do you even care?” she asked with genuine curiosity.
“Besides the fact I care for the Nibblet and Joyce? Sorry, by the way. I didn’t get the chance to-”
“I know. Willow told me you stopped by.”
“Oh. Well…you know why, Slayer.”
“Yeah, but how? I mean, once upon a time, you hated me.”
“Things change. And I never hated hated you. You were my opponent. ‘S nothin’ personal.”
“Nothing personal?” she asked sardonically.
“I never brought the fight to your family and your mates, did I? ‘S not like I didn’t know where you lived-I made it my business to know all there was to know about you. But at home, you aren’t the Slayer. I didn’t have any interest in fighting some girl worried ‘bout her mum and bratty kid sis.” Buffy tried not to think about how that was the exact opposite of what Angelus had done. “And yeah, it pissed me off when you consistently foiled my plans…”
“But…how is love possible? After everything that we’ve…”
“What can I say, Summers? My love is blind. It doesn’t care what you are or what I am. It just is.”
“Just is,” she muttered softly. “Oh.” She reached into the bag, pulling out a plastic bottle and some cotton balls.
“Is that-”
“That chipped, black polish has been bugging me for ages. You should really stop using it. Your hands look better without it. I mean, they should be used for playing the piano, or strumming a guitar, fighting…” she said in a light conversational tone, pouring the polish remover onto a cotton ball, grasping one of his hands. “Or back massages,” she said as an afterthought, pausing when she realized she had said it aloud. She began scrubbing furiously around his cuticles after that.
“You just…shouldn’t use it in my opinion.”
He turned his head, hiding a smile from her.
“Yeah, alright.”
“And all that black and the-”
“Hey now. The clothes and the hair are staying.”
Shortly after she left, Spike limped (an improvement from his former hobbling) over to his counter, reaching down and grasping the little black bottle in his warmed hand-warmed from her blood and her body heat as she held it within her own, scrubbing off the polish.
He looked at the little bottle of Black Opal, shaking his head as he tossed it into the trash with a sigh.
“Made a promise to a lady, didn’t I?”
*~*~*~*
She was quite hard to figure. She usually couldn't get enough of saying how much she loathed and hated him; found him disgusting... And no, he didn't think that the lady protested too much on that account. He believed her, mostly. But it was rare moments such as these, like trusting him with her family that left him quite puzzled. Or when she felt it necessary to confide in him; talked to him like a human being, divulging information that she wouldn't dare tell others, not even her closest friends. It was beyond unusual.
"Thanks for watching her," she said softly, so as not to disturb her sister, who was snuggled in her sleeping bag on the cold floor, warmed further by Spike's duster.
"No problem. Tired herself out from worrying."
"At least she's sleeping. It's good. She hasn't had a good rest since-since mom."
"Looks like you haven't either. I mean, you seem drained, is all."
"'Drained' very much being the operative word."
Buffy gave a brief, humorless laugh. She sat down on the floor against the wall with a sigh. He sat down gingerly next to her, close, but not too close.
"I just feel like the whole world is resting on my shoulders."
"Technically, it is, love," he pointed wryly with a small grin.
She gave a slight grin as well, though not looking at him. She frowned after a moment, remembering what she was about to say.
"It used to bearable when my mom was around. I still wasn't the adult, you know? At least then, I had her to take care of me. I just don't, I don't feel as if I can do this alone. Be the provider. The protector. It's all so much..."
He sat there in silence, urging her to continue and get it all out.
"No matter how bad it got, I would come home and see her, and she'd...she'd hug me, and everything felt like it’d be all right."
Spike, eyes soft, looked at her as her voice broke a little.
"And I remember smelling her Caress, you know the body wash? And her Sunflowers perfume, and I'd just feel so safe, and the rest of the world would just fall away." She swallowed thickly.
"I don't have that anymore. I miss her, so much," she whispered. Spike sighed.
"Come here," he said softly. She gave him a look of trepidation.
"Come here," he repeated, just as softly, but with authority in his voice. He didn't wait for her response, though, and gently tugged her towards him, wrapping his strong arms around her. She gave in, and rested her head in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
"You don't have to be alone, you know," he said into her hair.
She rested her hand on his shoulder, and breathed in his scent of whiskey, cigarettes, leather, and something she couldn't quite place. It was a far cry from what her mother smelled like, and yet...she felt comforted all the same.
And safe.
She felt tears prick at her eyes, for she knew that this too would not last. She batted them away, and stayed in the present.
Spike heard this tiny sigh come from her as her heart beat slowed. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she had this look of peace.
At least he could give her that, for the moment.