The door opens.
"Hi Tara."
"Hello, Buffy. God, you look awful."
Wry look. "Thanks a lot, Anya."
Sheepish smile. "Sorry, that just came out. But you do, you know?"
"Yeah, well, I'll bet I still look better than I feel."
Concerned look. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nah, I'm all talked out. Spike and I-"
Anger. "Did he push you? I told him not to push you."
"You did? Huh. Well, don't be mad. He didn't push . . . I did."
Confusion. "Huh?"
Dismissal. "Please, not now. We can talk later. Much later." Sniff, sniff. "Buffalo wings? Please tell me you got something besides Buffalo wings."
"Wings for Spike, wings, sides, and salad for Dawn, and fried chicken, sides, and salad for the two of us."
Childlike pleading. "Potato salad?"
Smile. "I remembered. It's the kind you like, with egg in it. God, how can you eat like that and still look like . . . that?"
Shrug. "Slayer metabolism. All that strength has to come from somewhere. C'mon, I hear that potato salad calling my name."
Dawn and Spike wanted to just crash-and-munch in front of the television. Buffy insisted on the dining room table. "That couch has been through years of zombie, vampire, and demon abuse, and somehow survived pretty much intact. I am not going to let you get wing sauce stains all over it."
She managed to get that out by fixing her gaze on Dawn when she said it.
So they all sat and ate at the dinner table. Dawn and Tara talked, and ate, and talked some more. Spike just sat and ate, and occasionally looked at her. And she sat, and ate a little, and looked back at him. And felt terrible.
Well, you asked for it, and you got it. With both barrels, you got it.
God, how could she have been so . . . awful? She remembered her Queen Bitch of the Universe phase at the beginning of her junior year of high school, and what she'd put Xander and Willow through back then. But that was nothing compared to what she'd done to Spike.
What she'd done to him -- what they'd done to each other -- when they actually were enemies was one thing. She had realized afterward that Spike hadn't brought up that stuff at all when asking for an apology.
But all the things she'd done when he was helpless. The things she'd done when he'd said he loved her. The things she'd done when he'd proved that he loved her.
Face it, Summers. You've known it for a long time, but you've been doing the whole selective memory and denial thing, like when Mom used to wash blood and vamp dust out of your clothes.
Spike had real, human feelings. He loved her. Really, deep down, whole-hearted, give-his-life-for-her loved her. He loved -- in a big-brotherly, protective kinda way -- Dawn. He liked Willow, and apparently liked Tara well enough to trust her with -- she thought wryly -- the care and feeding of the ones he loved. He hated Xander, sure, but it seemed like a human-y hate, no worse than what she felt for, say, the dork who'd tried to come on to her at work today. Spike and Xander still managed to work together -- just like she'd managed to give the dork his order without pouring his drink on his head.
She'd demanded that Spike prove his humanity by being sorry for what he'd done. But what was more human than wanting to be treated . . . well, like a human being?
When he'd looked right in her eyes, and not only asked for an apology, but also told her how much it would mean to him, it hit her. For once, she hadn't seen him as Spike, the Master Vampire. She'd seen him as Spike, the Man in Pain. And she had caused that pain.
Spike had feelings. And she had stomped all over those feelings. Tried to pretend they didn't even exist. Even Angelus had never done that to her.
Tara and Dawn were still going at it.
"But I already had some salad!"
"Well, have some more! And have some more carrots in it, they're good for your eyesight."
"If I eat another carrot, I'm going to turn into a bunny! Hey, you think I could scare Anya into getting off my case about the Magic Box stuff if I was a giant bunny?"
The vision of Faith's portrait swam in front of her. Not from thoughts of Faith herself -- she had walled those feelings away for another time, when she could talk them over with someone who'd been there, like Willow or Xander. But she was suddenly aware that when you've done something wrong, you never knew when you would run out of opportunities to correct it. Life was short . . . especially for Slayers. She wanted . . . no, she needed to say something or do something more.
But she didn't know what to say, or do. After her hasty, whispered apology, all the fire had run out of her, as it always did these days when she was apart from him. The inspiration, the spark that would've told her what to do next, just wasn't there. She didn't really feel empty, but she felt . . . gray. Faded. Incomplete.
She didn't love Spike . . . she thought.
But it looked as though she needed him. And she wanted to need him in a good way. Not as a dirty little secret. Not as something to be ashamed of.
As a friend. As a companion. As a partner.
But could there be more?
Could she love him?
And did she want to?
Tara tried to be inconspicuous as she watched Buffy and Spike look at each other all through dinner. She didn't know what had gone on between Buffy and Spike before she had arrived, but she could make some guesses. Dawn was acting like a little kid -- Tara almost expected her to start dancing around, singing, "I know something you don't know!"
She couldn't quite tell if Spike was happy -- he just looked stunned. He kept glancing across the table at Buffy as if he didn't quite believe that they were just sitting down together, at dinner, like normal people. And as she'd blurted out when she'd arrived, Buffy looked awful. White-faced and red-eyed. Sad. And the looks she kept throwing Spike could only be described as guilty. And needy.
Tara was sorely tempted to take Dawn somewhere and let Buffy and Spike finish whatever it was they'd started, but Buffy didn't look like she was ready to finish it. And she didn't think Dawn would be particularly happy about being shuffled off somewhere; Tara actually found herself glancing over her shoulder, afraid she'd see that demon -- Halfrek? -- standing there.
The bottom line was, Buffy just looked too drained to do anything more. And following that metaphor, what she needed was a recharge. Some nice, simple, undemanding fun. And then she remembered a conversation she'd had with Dawn early in the summer when she and Willow were moving into her mother's old room . . .
June 2001
"Dawn, what's with this box?"
"Let me see." Dawn came over and looked in the box. "Oh. That 's our old 'Extra Special Pick-Me-Up Night' box. When Mom and Dad split up, we were all . . . going through some bad times. Every now and then, it would get really bad. At that point, Mom would declare an Extra Special Pick-Me-Up Night. We'd get together, pick out one of the things in that box, and do it. There are a few of our favorite games, a couple of fun movies . . . and an emergency supply of hot chocolate. I don't think there's been a Pick-Me-Up Night since Buffy went to college, but look, it's still in there. Mom swore that she would never raid the hot chocolate from that box unless it was a Pick-Me-Up Night, because you never knew when you would really need it."
Tara put her arm around Dawn. "Do you need it now?"
The young brunette looked up, and bit her lip. "I . . . I don't want this to sound wrong, but I couldn't do that right now. Without Mom . . . without Buffy . . . it just wouldn't be the same. I don't want to get rid of this box -- it got us through some really hard times -- but for right now, I think we need to put it away." Then she brightened. "But we wouldn't need to raid this box to just have some hot chocolate -- there's some in the cupboard downstairs!"
Tara laughed, and put the box back in the closet where she'd found it.
The Present
Dawn saw Tara suddenly stop eating. Then she smiled, and leaned over and whispered, "Hey Dawnie? Remember that box in your mother's closet?"
Dawn just looked at her blankly for a moment. "What? Oh!" Her eyes brightened, and a huge smile appeared on her face as she realized what the witch had in mind. "Tara, you're a genius!" Then she looked over at Buffy. "Buffy?" she called out.
"Hmm?" came the half-hearted reply.
Dawn pretended to study Buffy a moment, tapped her nose with her index finger, and then said in her best Know-it-All Doctor Voice, "You look like you need a Pick-Me-Up. An Extra Special Pick-Me-Up!"
Buffy's eyes widened. Then a small smile came to her face. "You think we could? But what about-" she waved her hand, indicating Tara and Spike.
"Well, Tara just has to be included, since she was the one who suggested it!" She turned to look at Tara, and smiled at her. "And I would like to officially invite Spike to this Pick-Me-Up Night . . ." her voice trailed off as she looked over at the vampire, "as long as he wants to stay."
"What's involved in this Pick-Me-Up Night?" he asked suspiciously.
"Games or movies, and hot chocolate."
"But there isn't any hot chocolate -- or much of anything else, for that matter -- in the house. Why do you think I had Tara bring dinner over? You're cleaned out, girls."
Dawn patiently explained about the box, and the emergency supply.
Spike pursed his lips. "Well, I guess I could stay. But I think we've all had enough of games, " and Dawn looked sheepish at his glare, "for quite a while. And I hope these movies aren't all sappy girlie flicks." Spike made a face.
Dawn tried to think. Some of them were "sappy girlie flicks," although not many of them were romantic-sappy. When Mom had been the one to really need a Pick-Me-Up, the last thing she had needed was a reminder of her own broken marriage.
Amazingly, it was Buffy who came up with the perfect solution.
Of course, at first Dawn just thought she had gone crazy. Her sister suddenly made this goofy face, and started singing a nonsense song over and over: "Da da-da da-da da, da da-da da-da, da da-da da-da da da, hello folks! Da da-da da-da da, da da-da da-da, da da-da da-da da da, hello folks!"
Everyone in the room just stared at her. Then Dawn got it, and almost laughed herself silly. "Buffy! Wow! I almost forgot about that one! And maybe Spike can even explain some of the British stuff we never got!"
Spike looked at the two of them like they were both crazy. "What the hell are you two birds going on about?"
Dawn explained. "It's one of the movies in that box. One of Mom's favorites, but both of us liked it too. It's a Scottish movie called Comfort and Joy." She glanced at Buffy. "Appropriate, much?"
Spike snorted. "Sounds like a Christmas movie."
Dawn went on. "Well, it takes place at the holiday season . . . but I can't say too much. The first time she put it on for us, Mom said you can't try to explain this movie ahead of time, or you'll ruin it."
Tara said, "Sounds like fun to me. Spike?"
Spike seemed to squirm as three pairs of feminine eyes gazed pleadingly at him. Dawn was sure it was the hazel pair across the table from him that made him squirm the most. "All right, all right. But I reserve the right to split if this flick gets too sappy . . . after I finish my hot chocolate, of course," he added in a mutter.
Spike stayed through the whole film. And he was the one who said, as they turned off the TV, "Bloody Hell! You think it's really possible to do that?"
Tara shrugged. "I don't know. I've never heard of anything like it before."
Buffy said smugly, "It can be done. You can find it in some Mexican restaurants."
Spike looked disgustedly at Dawn and Buffy. "You knew about something amazing like this, and never told me?"
Dawn protested, "I never knew you'd be interested! I thought you didn't like sweet stuff like that!"
Spike gave her a wicked grin. "Not usually. But I'm always up for new experiences." He held off on winking at Buffy, though. She looked like she was finally feeling better, and he didn't want to ruin things again.
Then he looked at the time. "Bugger! Everything'll be closed by now. If I'm going to try this out, I'll have to wait 'till tomorrow night!"
Tara looked up at him. "I'm free tomorrow night. How about you guys?" She looked at Buffy and Dawn.
Spike hadn't been planning on another get-together . . . he'd just figured on a blood entrée and stopping by the restaurant for a little take-out dessert. But he held his tongue. He didn't want to hurt Tara's feelings . . . and maybe he'd get to see Buffy again.
The two sisters just looked at each other. Buffy was the first to reply, "Well, Dawn and I had originally planned the next couple nights to be just for the two of us -- like tonight was supposed to be -- but I wouldn't mind if she wouldn't."
Dawn smiled impishly. "And miss out on the dessert you guys are planning? Uh-uh! Count me in!"
Buffy said suddenly, "What about the others? Xander, and Anya, and . . . Willow?"
Tara said, "I think Xander and Anya were planning to stay in for a while. She kinda had a bad reaction to being shut up in here, and I think she said something about having Xander make her forget all about it." She made a face -- they all knew what that meant. She looked over at Buffy and Dawn. "I believe . . . Willow's plans are open for tomorrow."
Spike grinned to himself when he saw Tara's say Willow's name. He was glad the two witches were starting to patch things up. And a night out with a group might help them, too. "I wouldn't mind if Red came along."
Buffy brightened. "Then it looks like we'll be meeting again tomorrow? Here, at seven o'clock?"
Spike couldn't hold back on that opening. He looked straight at her and said, "It's a date, luv."
Buffy is so beautiful when she blushes, he thought.
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