Previously in "Sum": An accident has divided Buffy in twain, unbeknownst to her or any of the Scoobies. One is home with the gang, while the other is spending quality time with Spike . . .
Chapter 4 Regular
The shirt was ruined. Roughly torn and blood soaked, there was no way to salvage it. She had removed it and tossed it aside, revealing her bra-clad torso to his hungry gaze. She sat now at the table, left arm across her chest to expose the ragged wound to his care. She didn’t seem embarrassed or uncomfortable being half dressed in his presence.
He cleaned the wound carefully, steeling himself against her winces and gasps. “If you really have lost your slayer abilities, this is gonna take a long time to heal. You sure you won’t let the docs stitch you up?” He began taping the gash closed, grateful the Scoobies seemed to keep combat medic kits on hand. Or maybe it was just Harris. Hazards of the job.
“No, this is fine. It’s not like I’ll be on the front lines for a while.”
“Do you think the First did this?”
She half-shrugged. “Dunno. It certainly gains the most from it, and I can’t imagine who else would do something like this.” She sighed. “At least I know it’s not the Council this time.”
“This time?”
“Happened when I was in high school. Another stupid Council test. Almost got Mom killed . . .”
One more reason to hate the Council. If they still existed. He finished taping gauze over his handiwork, then began cleaning up the mess. “So, what now?” he called from the bathroom.
“Now,” her voice came from the bedroom, “I guess we go back home. Try to call Giles, make with the research. The usual.”
He went back into the dining room with the wastebasket, tossing out crimson wads of gauze and paper towel. “Least there’s extra hands for the book time. Good for them to learn early it’s not all the action hero routine.”
“Yeah, 90% investigation, 10% perspiration. The glamorous life of a Slayer.”
When she stepped back into the room, he realized she hadn’t been in the master bedroom, but instead had gone into the “closet” that had been Spike’s living quarters when he had stayed here. She was now wearing one of his shirts, blood red silk buttoned up to the third button, tails knotted loosely at her navel. She had never worn his clothing when they were together. To see her do it now so casually was amazingly erotic, like she had slipped into his skin. Like she didn’t mind him being a part of her.
“Maybe this is a good thing,” she mused, helping with the cleanup she didn’t notice her appearance had interrupted. “Maybe we’ll get home and find out one of the girls has been activated, and I can be done. Cheerlead the new girl through one last apocalypse and then run off to Cancun or Bora Bora, live out my days selling painted seashells to tourists on bright, safe, sunshiny beaches.”
He grinned. “You’d look right fetching in one of them little grass skirts.” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue at him, making him chuckle. “Do you really think you’d be happy like that? Perfect sunshine might get boring.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Used to be I’d say no. I was the Slayer; I’d accepted my destiny. But after everything I’ve been through the last couple of years, it might be nice to be boring Buffy for a change.”
“You could never be boring.”
“You know what I mean.” She rested a hand on his chest. “It’d be nice to have a regular job and regular responsibilities. Maybe even a regular relationship where I didn’t have to worry about anything besides making sure my legs are shaved.”
He smiled, drawing one finger along her arm gently, watching it move from shoulder to elbow. “Sounds divine.”
“I’d like to be able to be with who I wanted to for a change.” Her voice sunk to a sultry tone. He looked up from his stroking finger in surprise to meet her hooded eyes as she leaned in to kiss him.
It was a gentle kiss, open and generous, and he gave himself up to it, sliding his lips warmly, tenderly along hers. Her fingers almost hesitantly wove themselves in his hair. He slid his hands to span the small of her back, pulling her near in a tender embrace. He surrendered to it, this gentle coming together of body and heart that he had longed for so often last year. But finally he pulled back. “Luv, are you sure you want to be doing this?”
She smiled contentedly and wrapped her arms tight around him. “Definitely. First thing that’s felt good in ages.”
He kissed the top of her head, holding her close. “I don’t deserve this . . .”
“We don’t always get what we deserve.”
“And I hate to question such a good thing,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken, “but now might not be the best time for this.”
She drew back, hurt. “Don’t you want me?”
“Bloody hell, Summers, you’re the fuckin’ sun and sky to me. But what’s gonna happen when your little friends get you your powers back? Don’t want to be responsible for you hating yourself because we rushed into something.” He kissed her again, still soft but more passionate. “All I’m saying,” he rested his forehead against hers, “is that we should get all the information and then . . . do a whole lot of talking before we come back to this.”
She snuggled back into his welcoming arms. “Wow. That was remarkably thoughtful of you.”
“Totally self-serving. If I get to be with you, I’m gonna do it right this time.”
“So I guess this means we go home.”
“Yeah. In just a minute.” And he ravaged her mouth, exploring every corner as he slid his hands over the silk on her back. When he pulled away, she gasped for air, swollen lips smiling, eyes a bit vague. “Just in case.”
She laughed. He couldn’t have said how long it had been since he’d heard her laugh happily. It was better than the kisses.
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