Because Cavemen Have Fire, the Sequel. Chapter 6.
Here (finally) is the next chapter. Sorry it took so long, but a) I've been very busy and b) It REFUSED to behave (many thank yous to Kathy, as per usual!). I've managed to make it OK, more or less, and am posting partly just to stop myself from fiddling with it more. Anyway, Happy Tuesday! :)
Previous installments of the 'verse here.
Summary: There are always consequences.
Setting: Post-NFA. (And Buffy never dated The Immortal.)
Rating: Mild R.
Pairings: S/B/A.
Word count: Approx 2650 words.
Feedback: Would be lovely.
Disclaimer: I am not Joss and do not own these characters! [/obvious]
Chapter 6
April 2005.
“Spike,” Buffy said, observing him from the bedroom doorway, “The Village People called. They want their newest member back!”
He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, carefully applying black nail polish. His hair was a deliberately ordered mess of brown curls, tipped with white, and he wore a tightly fitting black sleeveless T-shirt and black leather pants. But his feet were bare, lending him an oddly vulnerable air despite the clothing and the assortment of necklaces, bracelets and rings scattered around his neck, wrists and fingers.
Buffy narrowed her eyes, studying his face. Yes, he was wearing eyeliner too!
He blew on his nails, and then answered without looking up.
“Thought about gettin’ a collar too, but figured it might be overkill!”
Angel silently came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle before resting his head on her shoulder, as he also took in the figure on the bed.
“I wouldn’t have minded a collar...” he said, his low voice almost a purr, and Buffy wondered yet again how she’d managed to get into a situation where such things were part of the daily conversation.
“I’ll get you one for your birthday, pet!” Spike replied, as he with utmost concentration started on the second layer.
“OK,” she sighed. “What’s with the gay look?”
“S called metrosexual Love, look it up. Anyway, it’s not too far off what I wore in the ‘70s. Figured that since I’m growing my hair I might change the rest of my look too...”
He cast a glance at Angel, whose eyes were still on him, and smiled knowingly. “Someone appreciates it!”
She shook her head. “Which - again - proves the gay thing! Anyway hurry up - people are gonna be here soon!”
She turned her head to look at Angel, and saw that he was still focussed on Spike. By the expression on his face she could tell that there was no doubt that he would spend the whole evening thinking about collars...
She looked at Spike again. “You’re evil!”
He finally met her eyes and grinned wickedly. “Yeah... but you’re the one who wanted him to be more open about our sleeping arrangements - I’m just nudgin’ things along a little!”
Angel held her a little tighter, eyes fixed on Spike. “There was this one time in Bucharest...”
Spike eyed him levelly. “Dream on Sally, not doin’ that again!”
A thought suddenly struck Buffy. “Now this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain guest who is rather uncomfortable with this whole deal?”
Spike stared at her innocently. “I’ve no idea what you mean!”
The shrill chime of the doorbell cut through the banter, and Buffy shrugged out of Angel’s arms, looking from one to the other.
“Behave!” she said sternly.
Spike smiled a smile full of mischief. “Promise love - I won’t flirt with him!”
Rolling her eyes she left the bedroom, pausing only when she reached the front door, casting one last critical look over herself in the tall hallway mirror.
Hair good, check, pretty dress not too upset by Angel, check, face surprisingly calm-looking... thank the powers. Why was killing things so much less terrifying than throwing a party for all her friends?
***
But a little while later Willow, Kennedy and Angel were all sitting on the larger sofa, chatting away surprisingly smoothly - although of course Angel had been to South America and was more than happy to discuss the ways in which the continent had changed and developed since his day.
Even so, he’d at first made moves to help Buffy with the food, but she had told him very firmly to stay put. She was perfectly capable of heating a few pizzas on her own, and the kitchen was so small that she’d just fall over him.
Having taken drinks orders, she returned with a tray at the same time as Spike finally emerged from the bedroom, draping himself in the doorway and once more proving himself to be a complete attention whore.
Willow and Kennedy followed the direction of her eyes, and Kennedy let out a low, slow whistle.
“I don’t often consider going bi, but damn - he is hot!”
Willow just opened her mouth, and then shut it again as Spike caught her eyes.
“Pink fuzzy number. I remember!”
The cryptic comment was followed by a very suggestive eyebrow-raise, and Willow went puce and looked like she was back in High School.
Buffy frowned at him. He might turn her to jelly too, but she was able to keep up a front, thankfully.
“I told you to behave!”
He smiled back, all innocent. “Only givin’ the dear lady a compliment!”
Then he sauntered over and sat himself on the floor by Angel’s feet, daintily leaning his head against the other’s leg. Buffy blinked, because the tableaux reminded her of a king with a faithful, obedient servant at his feet. Which was preposterous since the words ‘obedient’ and ‘Spike’ never fit in the same sentence.
Well... not at times like this anyway.
Then the doorbell rang again, and moments later Andrew, Dawn and Xander were busy hanging up their coats. But as they walked through to the sitting room, Xander stopped, staring.
“Why is Spike dressed as a rent-boy?”
Spike didn’t answer, just smiled enigmatically and looped an arm around Angel’s leg.
Buffy sighed. “He’s trying out new looks - what with growing his hair and stuff. Please just ignore him.”
Xander nodded slowly. “Well if the Champion gig fails to pay the bills, he could certainly earn some extra money on the side for you...”
Buffy blinked, but Spike threw his head back and laughed. Only Angel looked slightly offended, but Spike leaned forward.
“So tell me carpenter - how much are you offering? I’m not exactly cheap!”
Xander eyed him levelly.
“Quite frankly I think you owe me, considering that you never paid a penny of rent!”
“I lived in a cupboard, I don’t think that counts.”
“That was a room! It had a window and everything!”
Xander sat down in the arm chair next to Spike, keenly arguing his point, and Buffy smiled in relief. It seemed that he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that he’d done his best to come to term with how things were now, and Buffy could have kissed him.
Then Willow caught her attention.
“Buffy - I’ve been meaning to ask. I mean, if you don’t mind... How’s Giles taking this whole thing?”
She waved towards Spike and Angel, before continuing. “He still seemed a bit shellshocked at Christmas, and that was before... other revelations.”
Buffy sighed, and sank into a chair.
“I don’t know. He just... looks uncomfortable most of the time. And sometimes he almost says something, and then catches himself and pretends that it was nothing. By the way, has anyone told you about the ghosts?”
“Ghosts?” Kennedy asked. “What ghosts?”
“In the Council building!” Buffy replied, and then Dawn took over, happily expanding on her new favourite subject. Andrew, surprisingly, seemed rather quiet, but Buffy wasn’t about to complain, as she was more concerned about where Faith had got to - but then Faith was never particularly punctual. At which point her cellphone started buzzing with a message from Faith, saying she’d be late and to start without her.
Which reminded Buffy to check on the pizzas, even as Angel started to say something. She mouthed ‘Stay!’ and walked off - he was very gorgeous in his black silk shirt, but the Back-Seat Cook thing was getting on her nerves.
***
The evening turned out to be a great success. All her friends were together in one place, along with her vampires, and everyone was talking and catching up and enjoying themselves. Awkwardness had apparently been banished to another dimension, and there was no great looming disaster to hang over the party. If Willow got the teleporting thing figured out they could probably do this more often, rather than having to rely on planes.
Really, it wasn't natural. Surely any minute now an army of rampaging demons would come bursting through the door? She studied the door with great concentration for a long moment, but nothing happened. But then demons didn't often rampage through second floor apartments in the middle of London...
Shaking herself out of her paranoia she began collecting used plates, and Angel got up and started to help, despite her protestations.
“Hey - he wants to help, what’s the problem?”
Kennedy looked bemused, and Buffy shook her head.
“He’s not helping, he’s making sure I do things ‘properly’. See in reality he was born to be a 50s housewife, but never got the opportunity - I ought to get him an apron and some hair curlers.”
She could almost feel Angel’s glower, and wasn’t at all surprised when he firmly shut the door to the kitchen after they brought in the last things. Sometimes he had no sense of humour at all.
What she didn’t expect was to be crushed against the tallest of the cupboards as he kissed her fiercely.
“Angel?” she gasped, as he finally let go of her mouth, and he shook his head.
“Did you two conspire against me tonight?”
“Huh?”
“Cause you are both walking around looking so darn edible that I think I’m going crazy.”
His hands were sliding up her legs, gently pushing up her skirt, and she moved them away.
“You vampires!”
Chuckling, low and dirty, he picked her up and placed her on the work top.
“Nothing to do with being a vampire. When Spike says that I used to be a ‘drinking, whoring layabout’ he’s really making an understatement. Before I was turned, this-” he let a finger trail up the inside of her leg, “-was my area of expertise.”
She swallowed, mouth going dry.
“Don’t- my friends are...”
“Makes it more exciting, don’t you think?” he purred, softly kissing her neck and simultaneously pulling off her underwear.
“Angel please-”
“Also Spike ought to stop them disturbing us. Presuming he can think straight enough...”
At the look on her face, he smiled wickedly.
“Oh he can hear us, trust me,” he murmured, before dropping to his knees, and Buffy gave up protesting.
How could everything have changed, and yet have stayed the same?
***
When they returned to the sitting room a little while later, the rest of the group was thankfully caught up in a long, rather confusing story, told by Willow and Kennedy, and full of interruptions and corrections and minor arguments.
Spike had secured himself a seat on the smaller sofa, and Buffy sat down next to him, studiously avoiding his eyes. But he leaned over, whispering in her ear as he helped himself to a handful of crisps.
“And you call me evil! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable I am now?”
“I think you and Angel about even,” she shot back, trying her best to appear as if she was listening to the still-unfolding story, which was apparently coming to its conclusion.
Evil boyfriends were very bad for her concentration.
But once the story was finally finished, Andrew stood up, cleared his throat, and pulled out a piece of paper from a pocket. An expectant hush fell over the room, and he smiled nervously.
“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but I wanted to wait until all the people were gathered who helped me to find the path of righteousness and turn my back on the dark side, because without you guys-”
He swallowed, clearly overcome with emotion. Spike looked like he was going to say something, and Buffy kicked him.
“Um... without you guys I wouldn’t be here, and so I felt that you should be the first to know.”
He took a deep breath and clearly pictured himself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise.
“So... I shall no longer hide my true self, like Northstar had to do, for so many long years. For like him, the course of my love runs not to the fairer sex but towards my own, and I stand here today, to declare as he once did: I am gay.”
Spike rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘duh!’ and Buffy kicked him again.
“I am guided in my hope of future love not just by the incredible tales of Midnighter and Apollo, but also by the true warmth and affection of Willow and Kennedy, whose love first blossomed in the dark shadow of apocalypse.”
Willow and Kennedy looked at each other and then at Andrew, doing a joint “Awww”, and Spike moved his leg out of the way before Buffy could kick him for a third time.
“But - I also need to acknowledge another couple, whose bravery and unflinching mutual support and love in the face of public opinion has been a true inspiration. Spike and Angel - I salute you!”
For one long, tremulous second, Andrew beamed at the vampires, as they in turn goggled at him speechlessly.
Reaching out, Buffy tentatively put her hand on Spike’s arm, but he shrugged her off, eyes fixed on the going-paler-by-the-second young Watcher across the room.
“What did you say?” he finally asked, voice low and dangerous as he - seemingly without moving - stood up, Angel now next to him.
Andrew swallowed. “Your... s-support and love has been a-a true inspiration?”
“We need to have a talk,” Angel stated coldly as he grabbed Andrew by the scruff of the neck and hauled him towards the bedroom.
“We won’t hurt him. Much,” Spike clarified, mouth set in distaste. “Well... depends how you define ‘hurt’.”
A second later the bedroom door shut, cutting out Andrew’s confused babbling, and the rest of them were looking at each other in uncomfortable silence. Buffy, heart sinking, could feel her happy reunion turn into... she wasn’t quite sure what.
Should she go after them? Or should she pretend that everything was fine? The longer silence reigned, the more awkward the whole thing became - she had obviously been a fool for thinking that everyone could get along...
Then the front door opened and Faith walked in, looking becomingly flustered and a bit dusty.
“So, what’d I miss?”
For a second everyone kept not moving. Then Dawn spoke up.
“Um, Andrew came out - out of the closet, I mean, he did a whole speech - and now Spike and Angel are going to kill him. Or maybe just maim him, they weren’t very specific.”
Faith’s eyebrows rose to comical heights.
“For being gay?”
“No, because he called their mutual love inspirational.”
Faith chuckled, and tossed her coat over a chair.
“Dude, how stupid can you get? Hey B - is there any food left? I’m starving!”
The uneasy spell broken, conversation re-ignited, and Buffy - unspeakably grateful - fetched Faith all the leftovers.
A little while later the vampires reappeared with a wan-looking Andrew, the two of them easily joining in the chatter - as always happy to see Faith. Only Buffy seemed to notice Andrew’s nervousness, and the anxious furtive glances he continued to shoot Spike and Angel - and the occasional cold-as-ice looks he’d get back, that made him almost physically recoil.
It wasn’t something she could describe, but it felt like an entire army of jumpy ants with frozen feet were marching around her stomach, and she didn’t breathe easy until the last guest had left.
At least the evening had proved that they could all - with a bit of work - get along and have a good time. But it would clearly take years before the tension faded.
Or maybe she was just paranoid?
Having by some some miracle managed to get all the glasses to fit into the dish washer, Buffy returned to the sitting room to find Spike slouched on the sofa, saying rude things about Horatio Cane who was strutting about the TV screen in all his ginger midgety glory - blithely ignoring Angel who was studying him in a way that Buffy knew would mean another ruined T-shirt.
Leaning against the door frame, watching them, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Despite everything - the awkwardness, the secrets, the pain, the constant difficulties of trying to balance their unconventional life - they were definitely worth it.
Chapter 7.
Previous installments of the 'verse here.
Summary: There are always consequences.
Setting: Post-NFA. (And Buffy never dated The Immortal.)
Rating: Mild R.
Pairings: S/B/A.
Word count: Approx 2650 words.
Feedback: Would be lovely.
Disclaimer: I am not Joss and do not own these characters! [/obvious]
Chapter 6
April 2005.
“Spike,” Buffy said, observing him from the bedroom doorway, “The Village People called. They want their newest member back!”
He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, carefully applying black nail polish. His hair was a deliberately ordered mess of brown curls, tipped with white, and he wore a tightly fitting black sleeveless T-shirt and black leather pants. But his feet were bare, lending him an oddly vulnerable air despite the clothing and the assortment of necklaces, bracelets and rings scattered around his neck, wrists and fingers.
Buffy narrowed her eyes, studying his face. Yes, he was wearing eyeliner too!
He blew on his nails, and then answered without looking up.
“Thought about gettin’ a collar too, but figured it might be overkill!”
Angel silently came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle before resting his head on her shoulder, as he also took in the figure on the bed.
“I wouldn’t have minded a collar...” he said, his low voice almost a purr, and Buffy wondered yet again how she’d managed to get into a situation where such things were part of the daily conversation.
“I’ll get you one for your birthday, pet!” Spike replied, as he with utmost concentration started on the second layer.
“OK,” she sighed. “What’s with the gay look?”
“S called metrosexual Love, look it up. Anyway, it’s not too far off what I wore in the ‘70s. Figured that since I’m growing my hair I might change the rest of my look too...”
He cast a glance at Angel, whose eyes were still on him, and smiled knowingly. “Someone appreciates it!”
She shook her head. “Which - again - proves the gay thing! Anyway hurry up - people are gonna be here soon!”
She turned her head to look at Angel, and saw that he was still focussed on Spike. By the expression on his face she could tell that there was no doubt that he would spend the whole evening thinking about collars...
She looked at Spike again. “You’re evil!”
He finally met her eyes and grinned wickedly. “Yeah... but you’re the one who wanted him to be more open about our sleeping arrangements - I’m just nudgin’ things along a little!”
Angel held her a little tighter, eyes fixed on Spike. “There was this one time in Bucharest...”
Spike eyed him levelly. “Dream on Sally, not doin’ that again!”
A thought suddenly struck Buffy. “Now this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain guest who is rather uncomfortable with this whole deal?”
Spike stared at her innocently. “I’ve no idea what you mean!”
The shrill chime of the doorbell cut through the banter, and Buffy shrugged out of Angel’s arms, looking from one to the other.
“Behave!” she said sternly.
Spike smiled a smile full of mischief. “Promise love - I won’t flirt with him!”
Rolling her eyes she left the bedroom, pausing only when she reached the front door, casting one last critical look over herself in the tall hallway mirror.
Hair good, check, pretty dress not too upset by Angel, check, face surprisingly calm-looking... thank the powers. Why was killing things so much less terrifying than throwing a party for all her friends?
***
But a little while later Willow, Kennedy and Angel were all sitting on the larger sofa, chatting away surprisingly smoothly - although of course Angel had been to South America and was more than happy to discuss the ways in which the continent had changed and developed since his day.
Even so, he’d at first made moves to help Buffy with the food, but she had told him very firmly to stay put. She was perfectly capable of heating a few pizzas on her own, and the kitchen was so small that she’d just fall over him.
Having taken drinks orders, she returned with a tray at the same time as Spike finally emerged from the bedroom, draping himself in the doorway and once more proving himself to be a complete attention whore.
Willow and Kennedy followed the direction of her eyes, and Kennedy let out a low, slow whistle.
“I don’t often consider going bi, but damn - he is hot!”
Willow just opened her mouth, and then shut it again as Spike caught her eyes.
“Pink fuzzy number. I remember!”
The cryptic comment was followed by a very suggestive eyebrow-raise, and Willow went puce and looked like she was back in High School.
Buffy frowned at him. He might turn her to jelly too, but she was able to keep up a front, thankfully.
“I told you to behave!”
He smiled back, all innocent. “Only givin’ the dear lady a compliment!”
Then he sauntered over and sat himself on the floor by Angel’s feet, daintily leaning his head against the other’s leg. Buffy blinked, because the tableaux reminded her of a king with a faithful, obedient servant at his feet. Which was preposterous since the words ‘obedient’ and ‘Spike’ never fit in the same sentence.
Well... not at times like this anyway.
Then the doorbell rang again, and moments later Andrew, Dawn and Xander were busy hanging up their coats. But as they walked through to the sitting room, Xander stopped, staring.
“Why is Spike dressed as a rent-boy?”
Spike didn’t answer, just smiled enigmatically and looped an arm around Angel’s leg.
Buffy sighed. “He’s trying out new looks - what with growing his hair and stuff. Please just ignore him.”
Xander nodded slowly. “Well if the Champion gig fails to pay the bills, he could certainly earn some extra money on the side for you...”
Buffy blinked, but Spike threw his head back and laughed. Only Angel looked slightly offended, but Spike leaned forward.
“So tell me carpenter - how much are you offering? I’m not exactly cheap!”
Xander eyed him levelly.
“Quite frankly I think you owe me, considering that you never paid a penny of rent!”
“I lived in a cupboard, I don’t think that counts.”
“That was a room! It had a window and everything!”
Xander sat down in the arm chair next to Spike, keenly arguing his point, and Buffy smiled in relief. It seemed that he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that he’d done his best to come to term with how things were now, and Buffy could have kissed him.
Then Willow caught her attention.
“Buffy - I’ve been meaning to ask. I mean, if you don’t mind... How’s Giles taking this whole thing?”
She waved towards Spike and Angel, before continuing. “He still seemed a bit shellshocked at Christmas, and that was before... other revelations.”
Buffy sighed, and sank into a chair.
“I don’t know. He just... looks uncomfortable most of the time. And sometimes he almost says something, and then catches himself and pretends that it was nothing. By the way, has anyone told you about the ghosts?”
“Ghosts?” Kennedy asked. “What ghosts?”
“In the Council building!” Buffy replied, and then Dawn took over, happily expanding on her new favourite subject. Andrew, surprisingly, seemed rather quiet, but Buffy wasn’t about to complain, as she was more concerned about where Faith had got to - but then Faith was never particularly punctual. At which point her cellphone started buzzing with a message from Faith, saying she’d be late and to start without her.
Which reminded Buffy to check on the pizzas, even as Angel started to say something. She mouthed ‘Stay!’ and walked off - he was very gorgeous in his black silk shirt, but the Back-Seat Cook thing was getting on her nerves.
***
The evening turned out to be a great success. All her friends were together in one place, along with her vampires, and everyone was talking and catching up and enjoying themselves. Awkwardness had apparently been banished to another dimension, and there was no great looming disaster to hang over the party. If Willow got the teleporting thing figured out they could probably do this more often, rather than having to rely on planes.
Really, it wasn't natural. Surely any minute now an army of rampaging demons would come bursting through the door? She studied the door with great concentration for a long moment, but nothing happened. But then demons didn't often rampage through second floor apartments in the middle of London...
Shaking herself out of her paranoia she began collecting used plates, and Angel got up and started to help, despite her protestations.
“Hey - he wants to help, what’s the problem?”
Kennedy looked bemused, and Buffy shook her head.
“He’s not helping, he’s making sure I do things ‘properly’. See in reality he was born to be a 50s housewife, but never got the opportunity - I ought to get him an apron and some hair curlers.”
She could almost feel Angel’s glower, and wasn’t at all surprised when he firmly shut the door to the kitchen after they brought in the last things. Sometimes he had no sense of humour at all.
What she didn’t expect was to be crushed against the tallest of the cupboards as he kissed her fiercely.
“Angel?” she gasped, as he finally let go of her mouth, and he shook his head.
“Did you two conspire against me tonight?”
“Huh?”
“Cause you are both walking around looking so darn edible that I think I’m going crazy.”
His hands were sliding up her legs, gently pushing up her skirt, and she moved them away.
“You vampires!”
Chuckling, low and dirty, he picked her up and placed her on the work top.
“Nothing to do with being a vampire. When Spike says that I used to be a ‘drinking, whoring layabout’ he’s really making an understatement. Before I was turned, this-” he let a finger trail up the inside of her leg, “-was my area of expertise.”
She swallowed, mouth going dry.
“Don’t- my friends are...”
“Makes it more exciting, don’t you think?” he purred, softly kissing her neck and simultaneously pulling off her underwear.
“Angel please-”
“Also Spike ought to stop them disturbing us. Presuming he can think straight enough...”
At the look on her face, he smiled wickedly.
“Oh he can hear us, trust me,” he murmured, before dropping to his knees, and Buffy gave up protesting.
How could everything have changed, and yet have stayed the same?
***
When they returned to the sitting room a little while later, the rest of the group was thankfully caught up in a long, rather confusing story, told by Willow and Kennedy, and full of interruptions and corrections and minor arguments.
Spike had secured himself a seat on the smaller sofa, and Buffy sat down next to him, studiously avoiding his eyes. But he leaned over, whispering in her ear as he helped himself to a handful of crisps.
“And you call me evil! Do you have any idea how uncomfortable I am now?”
“I think you and Angel about even,” she shot back, trying her best to appear as if she was listening to the still-unfolding story, which was apparently coming to its conclusion.
Evil boyfriends were very bad for her concentration.
But once the story was finally finished, Andrew stood up, cleared his throat, and pulled out a piece of paper from a pocket. An expectant hush fell over the room, and he smiled nervously.
“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but I wanted to wait until all the people were gathered who helped me to find the path of righteousness and turn my back on the dark side, because without you guys-”
He swallowed, clearly overcome with emotion. Spike looked like he was going to say something, and Buffy kicked him.
“Um... without you guys I wouldn’t be here, and so I felt that you should be the first to know.”
He took a deep breath and clearly pictured himself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise.
“So... I shall no longer hide my true self, like Northstar had to do, for so many long years. For like him, the course of my love runs not to the fairer sex but towards my own, and I stand here today, to declare as he once did: I am gay.”
Spike rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘duh!’ and Buffy kicked him again.
“I am guided in my hope of future love not just by the incredible tales of Midnighter and Apollo, but also by the true warmth and affection of Willow and Kennedy, whose love first blossomed in the dark shadow of apocalypse.”
Willow and Kennedy looked at each other and then at Andrew, doing a joint “Awww”, and Spike moved his leg out of the way before Buffy could kick him for a third time.
“But - I also need to acknowledge another couple, whose bravery and unflinching mutual support and love in the face of public opinion has been a true inspiration. Spike and Angel - I salute you!”
For one long, tremulous second, Andrew beamed at the vampires, as they in turn goggled at him speechlessly.
Reaching out, Buffy tentatively put her hand on Spike’s arm, but he shrugged her off, eyes fixed on the going-paler-by-the-second young Watcher across the room.
“What did you say?” he finally asked, voice low and dangerous as he - seemingly without moving - stood up, Angel now next to him.
Andrew swallowed. “Your... s-support and love has been a-a true inspiration?”
“We need to have a talk,” Angel stated coldly as he grabbed Andrew by the scruff of the neck and hauled him towards the bedroom.
“We won’t hurt him. Much,” Spike clarified, mouth set in distaste. “Well... depends how you define ‘hurt’.”
A second later the bedroom door shut, cutting out Andrew’s confused babbling, and the rest of them were looking at each other in uncomfortable silence. Buffy, heart sinking, could feel her happy reunion turn into... she wasn’t quite sure what.
Should she go after them? Or should she pretend that everything was fine? The longer silence reigned, the more awkward the whole thing became - she had obviously been a fool for thinking that everyone could get along...
Then the front door opened and Faith walked in, looking becomingly flustered and a bit dusty.
“So, what’d I miss?”
For a second everyone kept not moving. Then Dawn spoke up.
“Um, Andrew came out - out of the closet, I mean, he did a whole speech - and now Spike and Angel are going to kill him. Or maybe just maim him, they weren’t very specific.”
Faith’s eyebrows rose to comical heights.
“For being gay?”
“No, because he called their mutual love inspirational.”
Faith chuckled, and tossed her coat over a chair.
“Dude, how stupid can you get? Hey B - is there any food left? I’m starving!”
The uneasy spell broken, conversation re-ignited, and Buffy - unspeakably grateful - fetched Faith all the leftovers.
A little while later the vampires reappeared with a wan-looking Andrew, the two of them easily joining in the chatter - as always happy to see Faith. Only Buffy seemed to notice Andrew’s nervousness, and the anxious furtive glances he continued to shoot Spike and Angel - and the occasional cold-as-ice looks he’d get back, that made him almost physically recoil.
It wasn’t something she could describe, but it felt like an entire army of jumpy ants with frozen feet were marching around her stomach, and she didn’t breathe easy until the last guest had left.
At least the evening had proved that they could all - with a bit of work - get along and have a good time. But it would clearly take years before the tension faded.
Or maybe she was just paranoid?
Having by some some miracle managed to get all the glasses to fit into the dish washer, Buffy returned to the sitting room to find Spike slouched on the sofa, saying rude things about Horatio Cane who was strutting about the TV screen in all his ginger midgety glory - blithely ignoring Angel who was studying him in a way that Buffy knew would mean another ruined T-shirt.
Leaning against the door frame, watching them, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Despite everything - the awkwardness, the secrets, the pain, the constant difficulties of trying to balance their unconventional life - they were definitely worth it.
Chapter 7.