Not Just a River in Egypt

A little amused, Spike was watching his Slayer string pink and blue ribbons together to decorate their living room. The Witches had offered to come by and help her, but she had assured them that she would be alright by herself since she knew they were both having some busy time with their jobs. He was surprised that she hadn’t enlisted his help yet, but watching as he sipped on a nicely warmed mug of blood was fine as far as he was concerned. Plus, who had decided on these horrible blue and pink pastel colors?

“What do you mean, horrible?” Buffy asked, indignant, and he realized he had spoken out loud. “They’re perfectly fine colors for a baby shower! Blue for boy and pink for girl, that’s traditional.”

He bit back the comment that it was a relief they wouldn’t ever been subjected to that freak show – it would have hurt her, he was sure, and he didn’t mean it anyway. He probably wouldn’t have found the colors so offensive if it had been their babies that were being celebrated.

“What time are they all coming?” he asked perfunctorily, more to change the subject than to get information he already had.

“They’re all supposed to be here by five,” she replied from her perch on the armchair. “Would you get the cookies out of the oven, please?”

As if on cue, the oven’s timer started beeping, and Spike went to the kitchen. Buffy had had a lot of practice baking chocolate chip cookies during Anya’s first pregnancy, and he decided to check if they were still as good. And promptly discovered that they were. Fresh out of the oven cookie dunked into perfect temperature O neg, one of the perks of unlife.

“Oh, that’s gross!” Buffy exclaimed as she came into the kitchen. “I hope you won’t do that in front of the gang. Plus, you’re not supposed to eat the snacks before they even get here.”

Puzzled, he watched as she transferred the treats from the baking sheet to a cooling rack.

“Blood and cookies, that’s gross?” he finally asked, a frown marring his forehead. That couldn’t be what she had meant, he had seen her do the same thing more than once…

“Well, yeah, duh!” she shot back, almost sarcastic, before darting back to the living room and her preparations, leaving Spike to a snack that had suddenly lost all of its appeal.

She just wanted to make the party perfect, he tried to tell himself. She didn’t want him to gross out their friends. That was all. She wasn’t trying to pretend that she was human herself. Not any more than usual.

He had talked to her about it, first when he had confronted her about not drinking human blood a few weeks back, and again more recently, but she denied she was trying to pretend she wasn’t a vampire. And yet, he had just gotten one more proof. Wasn’t she aware of what she was doing?

He was still standing in the kitchen, lost in his thoughts, with his mug in one hand and the remains of a cookie in the other, when she came back and started preparing food trays. She seemed to notice something was off.

“Spike? Are you alright?”

At the concerned tone of her voice, his gaze focused and found hers.

“Do you regret it?” he asked quietly. “Do you regret deciding to be a vampire again?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What kind of question is that?” she asked, clearly shaken.

“One you haven’t answered yet,” he pointed out.

She abandoned what she was doing to step closer to him, and he put away the vampire and human foods he still held.

“No,” she said strongly. “I am not regretting anything. Why would you think that I do?”

Unconsciously, he reached out to stroke her hair. She had curled it for the party, and it framed her face beautifully.

“You just seem to do everything to pretend you’re a normal girl,” he tried to say without sounding like he was accusing her of anything. “Do you even realize it?”

“If this is about the human blood again,” she started, but he stopped her with a finger on her lips.

“It’s not just about that,” he said quietly, although it was indeed one of his biggest concerns. “It’s about finding blood and cookies together gross. About insisting to go out in the middle of the day to get flowers and ribbons as if the sun couldn’t hurt you. About keeping the air conditioning on even when we don’t expect guests. It’s about a thousand insignificant things that put together spell out ‘Buffy wants to be human’.”

She seemed genuinely confused by his words, and a small crease on her forehead deepened in a frown. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times without a sound, as if she didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” she said at last, accepting that something was indeed going on. “I know what I am and I’m fine with it. I think.”

There was a slight questioning in that last part, and Spike repressed a sigh as he pulled her into a hug. If she wasn’t even aware of it, how was he supposed to make her stop before she hurt herself?

Night was slowly falling on Sunnydale, and the party was going quite nicely. Upon arriving, Anya had been delighted by Buffy’s choice of colors, and had lost no time in announcing to the assembled friends that she was expecting both a boy and a girl, which made the decoration twice as appropriate.

“It was rather funny,” Xander had commented while trying to prevent his two year old son Michael from popping a balloon, “the guy gets all mysterious as if he’s going to give us this big news, he finally says they’re twins, and we just look at him like, ‘what else is new?’. He was rather disappointed by our lack of reaction. But we couldn’t quite tell him how we knew, now, could we?”

He had glanced at Spike then, giving him an amused smile, to which Spike had replied with a somewhat strained grin of his own. Buffy had noticed the strain, just as she had noticed that it was his first smile since their talk earlier.

Coming back to the present, Buffy laughed along with her friends, although she had no clue what they were all laughing about. She had zoned out, for a moment, thinking again about what her Sire had brought her attention to. Was she really acting in all things as if pretending to be human? She had never made the conscious decision to do so. And why would she do such a thing, anyway? The demon in her was always there, always loud and clear, and there was just no way she would ever forget for a second that she was a vampire.

Deciding that she had brooded enough about that – Spike was seeing more in innocent actions than there really was, that was the only explanation – she turned her attention back toward the group. And noticed, almost instantly, that something was up with Dawn and Steven. It was a wonder she hadn’t noticed before, actually, seeing how both of their smiles seemed a little forced, and how Steven was standing a few feet from where Dawn was seated. Just about like Spike and herself, actually, and Buffy could only wonder if anyone had noticed that they were tense. No one was saying anything, in any case.

The two of them had arrived just about the same time as Willow and Tara, and Buffy hadn’t had the time for really chatting with Dawn other than briefly asking about her job and life in LA. It was the first time they visited since Dawn had moved out, but she had never hinted, over the phone or through emails, that things were less than perfect between them.

Catching Dawn’s attention, Buffy told her sister that she had something to show her upstairs, which earned her a small frown, but Dawn did get up and follow her out of the crowded room. They went to Dawn’s old bedroom, and sat on the bed, much as they had a few weeks back when saying goodbye.

“You don’t have something to show me, huh?” the youngest Summers asked with a tight smile.

“Not really,” Buffy confirmed. “Anything you want to talk about?”

Dawn’s hands started smoothing out the comforter on each side of her, as she found an interesting spot on the wall to look at.

“Anything like what?”

“Like why you and Steven are giving each other the cold shoulder, for example.”

The brunette let out a deep sigh. “It’s that obvious?”

Buffy watched her worry her bottom lip with her teeth, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

“Not really that obvious,” she half-lied, “I’ve just been around you two too much not to notice. So, you want to tell me?”

Again, Dawn sighed, and leaned to rest her head on her sister’s shoulder.

“He got hurt,” she said quietly. “Four days ago. He went out with Angel and Wes and Gunn and even Fred, and he said I had nothing to worry about, that it was just routine, but I should have known something was up because they rarely ever go all together. He was hurt the worst, though they all got scratches and bruises. He couldn’t walk for two days. We weren’t sure we were going to come, but he insisted. He’s such a mule when he decides something.”

Despite the irritation and hurt in her voice, there was also a fondness in that last part, and Buffy couldn’t help smiling. Steven and Spike were very much alike on many points, their stubbornness included.

“So, you’re upset because he was hurt?” she tried to clarify.

“I’m upset because he’s taking risks and pretending he doesn’t,” Dawn said grumpily. “I never liked knowing that he was out and maybe fighting some ugly nasty, but it’s even worse now because I know he’s not honest with me about it. He plays it down. He doesn’t care that I worry!”

There was a dry sob in that last statement, and Buffy shook her head slightly.

“You know that’s not true,” she tried to reason Dawn. “It’s because he cares that he doesn’t tell you. And, you know, what good would it do if he actually told you what he was going out for exactly? You wouldn’t be able either to help him or stop him.”

“And why couldn’t I stop him?” Dawn retorted, now pouting. “Hasn’t he fought enough, already? He could find something else to do. Something less dangerous.”

It was Buffy’s turn to sigh.

“Yes, he has fought a lot,” she conceded. “But he just can’t stop like that. It’s what he was born to do, it’s in his blood, his destiny. You have to understand, Dawnie, he doesn’t have much of a choice there. He was chosen for a job, he didn’t choose it. It’s not easy for him either, all this power, all these responsibilities, and never a day off. Try to see things from his point of view, too.”

Dawn pulled away from her then, and considered her thoughtfully, frowning just a little.

“Are you talking about Steven,” she finally asked, “or about yourself?”