"Spike!" Buffy cried, shaking his limp figure. "Oh, god. Spike, wake up!" she gave him a light slap. He didn't move. Oh god, oh god. She fretted. She hadn't thought she had hit him that hard. Buffy had had ample experience when it came to punching Spike, she thought she knew how much force he could handle.
She figured she must have misjudged the power of her own rage at him for not deigning to show up until now. She had known about his resurrection for nearly two years. All this time she'd been wondering what the hell was keeping him from coming to her. And now here was her golden opportunity to find out and she ruined it by knocking him out cold.
"Come on," Buffy pleaded with the unconscious man. "Wake up." She sighed when she got no response. She got up and grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him into her flat. She hauled him up onto the sofa and gently put a pillow under his head. She stood up and gazed down at him taking in how much he'd changed. His clothing was a lot different from what he used to wear; the peacoat instead of his leather duster, the knit cap– she couldn't recall Spike ever wearing a hat before– and she could see chestnut curls peaking underneath it, he'd stopped bleaching his hair.
He also looked older somehow, she thought, but knew that must just be her imagination.
As she looked at him lying there a lump began to form in her throat, her chest clenched and her eyes stung with tears. She'd missed him so much.
She blinked the thought away, it didn't matter. No matter how much she missed him, it didn't change the fact that he had kept his being back from her all this time. The man had some major explaining to do.
Once he comes to of course. Buffy bit her lip in worry that he still hadn't come around. She really didn't think she had hit him that hard.
He'll be fine, she told herself. It's not like I could make him any deader.
She looked down at the flowers he was still clutching in his hand.
She shook her head with a wry smile. Leave it to Spike to think he could just show up after all this time and fix everything with flowers. She tsked and gingerly removed the bouquet from his fist. She smiled again as smoothed out the petals. They are awfully pretty though. She brought them to her nose and inhaled the sweet scent.
She carried them in the kitchen to put the flowers in some water.
She dropped the flowers in a vase and carried them out to the place them on the table in the small dining area between the living room and kitchen. She arranged them a little and smiled and wondered how Spike new violets were her favourite; well, he always did seem to have an uncanny ability to read her.
She cast a glance at Spike on the couch, that pressure building in her chest again, she turned briskly and went back into the kitchen to busy herself by making some tea.
A high pitch squeal pierced through the hazy darkness in Spike's mind. He moaned his hand going automatically to the side of his pounding head. His eyes opened cautiously to blurry, unfamiliar surroundings.
Where am I?
He tried to set up, but his head swam in protest.
"Careful,” urged a voice that sent a shiver through his body. Buffy. Spike's memory came flying back to him. He looked up to see her standing over him, a crease of worry in her brow. "Just take it easy, you took quite a fall there."
After you punched me, ya mean? Spike thought, but didn't say, she was more than justified in doing so he figured. "Yeah. Guess I did."
"So welcome back to the land of the waking," Buffy flippantly remarked, shaking off her air of concern for an impassive one. She crossed her arms over her chest going into that guarded stance Spike knew so well.
He threw her a smirk, but even that tiny action put his head to aching.
"I don't have any blood," Buffy blurted out of nowhere.
Spike was thrown for a moment by the Slayer’s proclamation. Where had that come from? Oh right. Spike didn’t think about blood that often anymore himself, but there was no way Buffy could know that, could she?
"But I can get some if you need it," she added, her expression and tone still offering Spike nothing of what she was feeling.
"No, thanks, p-Buffy," he amended, not sure if after all this time he was allowed to call her by pet names anymore. Was I ever, really? "I'm all right, don't need any blood."
"Well, how about a cuppa, then? I just made some tea."
Spike couldn't help but chuckle. "Sure, a cuppa'd be great."
"What?" Buffy demanded not getting the joke.
"Oh, it's just... well, from the sound of things you've really gone native; Wanker, cuppa."
"Ah," Buffy said a glimmer of animation finally coming to her face. "So that was you who buzzed me and didn't say anything. I should have guessed the minute I opened the door."
Spike winced. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I jus' gotta bit tongue tied."
Buffy snorted. "Well, that had to be first."
Spike looked up and saw her smiling and a smile of his own curved his lips. He laughed. "Yeah, guess I never really had problem comin' up with things to say."
"No, you certainly didn't."
They continued to just stare, smiling at each other for a moment, feeling so strange, yet familiar together. But, Buffy blinked and cleared her face of expression, she stood abruptly. "I should get that tea."
She whirled around and left the room so quickly it set Spike's sensitive head to spinning. "Yeah, right." he muttered after her. He bent forward and rubbed his hands roughly over his face.
Damn, he thought, a small rueful snicker escaping him. The moment he'd just shared with Buffy was all too familiar; the way they used to look at each other and for just a moment it would be like she was looking past the monster and staring into the eyes of a man. His heart used to soar in those moments, but in a blink she would always turn away and run, shattering his illusion.
Spike had expected this though. He hardly thought that she would accept him back into her life after all this time, and him turning up out of the blue. He just hoped that once he explained everything she would understand.
Buffy's hands were shaking slightly as she put the tea on a serving tray. She put everything down and gripped the counter. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wanted to be strong, to keep up her resolve until she got some answers. But she was being overwhelmed by the power of the emotions she felt seeing him again.
She was so happy. She had to use all her Slayer strength to keep herself from throwing herself into his arms and kissing him. She wanted to hold him, feel him in her arms so she would know that he was really real.
She remembered the way her heart had nearly burst with joy when she found out that he had somehow been resurrected. And how it had nearly shattered when she found out he didn't want her to know about his return.
That question had burned inside her for years. Now was the time to find out and she wasn't going to let sentimentality get in the way.
She blinked back the moisture that had pooled in her eyes and sniffed. Steeling herself she picked up the tray and went to get her answers.