Flesh and Blood

9

Five years ago, the notion of being anywhere near Spike repulsed Buffy. Even though she was well aware of how attractive he was, she never dared to admit it to herself or anyone else, and his attitude was always a problem. To her, he was just an annoying bleach blond vampire who loved to make her life as difficult as possible. And if someone had told the slayer that she would one day become romantically involved with said vampire, she would have laughed until she puked. But a lot had changed in five years, and it was as plain as the small button nose on her golden face that the blond-haired woman was a completely different person now; in more ways than one.

The slayer sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen. She thought that getting Spike to confide in her about what had happened on the mission would be easy, seeing as he was a man of many words around her. But this wasn't the case. The shame he felt from failing to bring Isobelle back had led Spike to fold in on himself, and now he wouldn't even make eye contact, no matter what Buffy tried.

Angel had told Buffy to leave Spike to his own devices; that he would come around once everything sunk in, but the blond slayer refused to listen to her first love. She couldn't leave him any longer. No matter how angry she was, Buffy was drawn to Spike like a moth to a flame, and no matter how many times the fire had burnt her, she kept going back. Buffy wanted the vampire to know that despite how hurt she felt, she will always be there for him. Every minute he continued to keep the barrier up, Buffy could feel herself becoming increasingly worried for his mental state. Spike may be a vampire, but the soul he fought for could easily shatter him.

After half an hour of trying to get Spike to look at her, Buffy had given up and sat at the kitchen table. This was one of the few times the slayer felt some semblance of peace, albeit chaotic, and it was the first time she was truly alone with her thoughts in a long time. Dawn was usually buzzing about, catering to her every need; Willow was always measuring her vitals; Giles routinely questioned how she was feeling up to the moment she had left for the hospital. The silence was deafening, but it was welcomed, even though in reality, being alone was the last thing she wanted right now.

Allowing Spike to dodge her prying questions was temporary, of course, as she wasn't going to give up on him that easily. Her mind was racing as fast as her sorrowful heart. The new mother needed Spike now more than ever, and it crushed her that he was clearly avoiding her. Buffy knew the vampire like the back of her hand. She could tell he blamed himself, but that was obvious to anybody. Exhaustion had washed over her, and she used her folded arms, the casted one across the other, using them as a headrest, and closed her eyes briefly. When her hazel eyes opened, her gaze landed on the old-style fridge that was nestled into the corner of the kitchen.

Buffy grew dizzy, and she threw a hand to her head.

Maybe it was post-traumatic stress disorder, or the depletion of iron in her system, but Buffy could not remember seeing Spike eating—at all. Then again, she wasn't really keeping up with the chaos rumbling around headquarters. All she knew was that Willow would be working on a locator spell, and Giles was rifling through the books that Angel had brought back. She was very much consumed with the longing to have her baby girl back in her arms and dealing with the trauma of labour. The slayer opened the fridge and carefully took out a plastic container of blood, still in the market bag from Xander's run. In the past, Buffy had rarely prepared Spike's blood, aside from the times he was held as their hostage, but she remembered that Dawn had done so on a semi-regular basis when she was six feet under. The slayer looked through the cupboards to find a suitable drinking mug—well, one that nobody would miss. With a swift flick of the wrist, the container was opened. The metallic smell wafted over to her sensitive nostrils. She gagged as she poured it into a yellow mug, and then replaced the container in the fridge. Although she was used to the smell of blood, and before, it had never bothered her, her sense of smell had changed when she became pregnant with Isobelle. Buffy grimaced while she transferred some of the crimson liquid to the mug and placed the meal-for-one in the microwave. Buffy was too distracted looking for some Burba Weed to spice the blood up that she didn't notice Xander was standing at the doorway, watching her every move.