Seeking Vengeance

 Chapter 25 - Changes

It took a surprisingly short time for Buffy to recover physically. But then, she's the Slayer. It took longer to persuade the hospital that she should be discharged. In the end, it was only my promise that she could come home with me that made the difference.

And, that's how Buffy came to live with me. I did it properly, though. There was a second bedroom in the apartment, even if it was kinda small. I moved one of the beds from her house into my old room, and took my bed to the other room.

Buffy was still a long way from 'normal'. She seemed permanently distracted, as if she wasn't actually there. But, she functioned. It was just as if the spark was gone.

We patrolled together at night - well, she patrolled, while I went along to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. Before, that'd have irritated her. Then, she hardly seemed to notice. She was different, though. There wasn't any fire in what she did, it was rote, automatic, and I'm just glad the vamps were routine too.

I found it hard. The more time I spent with her, the more my feelings for her came to the surface, and sometimes I thought I'd be overwhelmed by the love I felt for her. More than anything, I wanted to see the spark that would suggest she was really on the way back.

The hardest part was just being with her in an intimate, domestic situation. She'd get up, and come into the kitchen without putting on a robe. Not that she was technically indecent, and she'd never been uncomfortable about showing skin, but there's a difference between a tank top with a bra underneath, and a sheer tank top over naked skin that she'd just slept in. She didn't seem to notice.

I tried hard not to look, I really did, but in the end, I'm human. I loved her, and I wanted her. She gave no indication of wanting anything.

We didn't talk about Dawn. I tried, at first. I'd suggest she should maybe write to her sister, trying to think of ways we could find an address, but, vague as she was at the best of times, she switched off completely if she heard her sister's name. So, I gave up, deciding time would make a difference.

It didn't take too long before her lack of payment of the mortgage on Revello Drive meant that she lost the house. She didn't seem to care. I mean, that was the house where she'd lived with her mom and Dawn, a house filled with memories, and she didn't seem to care. We went over there together, to pack up her stuff, and she seemed happy to throw it all away. I intervened then, packing the photos and some other things I knew Dawn or Joyce had cherished, and putting them in the back of my car.

When we'd finished, and we unpacked back at my apartment, there was pitifully little left to show for the home that house had been. I didn't have room for much of the furniture, and there didn't seem much point in storing things that'd been repaired too many times.

Her reaction to that hit her later. We'd patrolled, and then we'd gone to bed pretty much as usual. I was sleeping when I heard her. She was sobbing. It was the first strong emotion she'd shown since her time in hospital, and I was out of bed, and into her room in seconds.

She was sobbing so hard, her whole frame was shaking violently. She didn't even seem to notice that I was there. I did the only thing I could think of, I lay down beside her, and put my arms around her.

She didn't even seem to notice that at first, but gradually, her sobs quietened, as I held her and stroked her hair.

Then, something changed. She turned her face to me, and looked at me carefully.

"Xander," she whispered. It was as if she'd just realised who it was there with her. "I need to feel, make me feel something good."

Then, she kissed me. Soft and gentle at first, but it soon became more insistent. I tried to pull away, but, let's face it, she's stronger than I am. And, I really didn't want to pull away.

So, I returned the kiss, and, clad as I was in light-weight pyjamas, there wasn't a lot I could do to hide the effect she had on me.

In my defence, she led the way. I mean, she was the one who pulled off my top, and then hers. Every time I touched her, anywhere, she moaned softly. Still, I would have pulled back if she'd shown any sign of reluctance. She didn't.

She soon made it clear what she wanted. I wasn't completely irresponsible, though.  I reached into the nightstand where I'd always kept the condoms I used with Anya. They were still as I left them, because the room I'd been sleeping in didn't have any spare space once the bed was there.

That night, one of my dreams came true. I held Buffy in my arms, and I made love to her. It answered every one of my dreams and fantasies, and made them pale into insignificance.

We slept at last, and when I woke, early, she was still asleep. I got up to go to work, careful not to waken her.

I spent the day in a happy daze, certain that anyone who looked at me would know - would see the difference a night of loving her had made.

Needless to say, beyond a few comments about my absent-mindedness, no one noticed anything at all.

When I got home, I opened the door, expecting a welcome, a kiss, something appropriate to our changed status, but she hardly seemed to notice. She was watching some trashy show on TV.

As usual, she'd made no attempt to think about food - if she was hungry she just raided my snack supplies, so I went into the kitchen to get myself a beer and check the fridge for possibilities.

There wasn't a lot, but I pulled together what I found - a few eggs, some tomatoes, some cold meat, and I made an omelette. When it was done, I split it in two, and took the two plates in to where she was sitting. I switched off the TV, hoping to talk to her about what had changed, but she just looked bewildered that I'd switched it off. Then she noticed the food, and seemed to realise she was hungry.

We ate, and I chatted about my day. I tried to draw her out, make her give me some idea of what she'd been doing, but the spark was hidden again.

We patrolled later, and for the first time, I thought I saw a difference. She still wasn't the old Buffy, but she seemed better. She even seemed to spend a bit of time beating up a couple of vamps when she could have just staked them. That was the Buffy I knew - not one to just do the minimum, but relishing the fight.

When we met a group of four, late in the evening, I was worried, though. The way she'd been recently, it was a long time since she'd fought more than two at a time, and I'm realistic enough to know that I'm not that useful.

I needn't have worried. The challenge seemed to waken something in her, something I'd thought was lost. She whirled, and she kicked, she even quipped a few times. I didn't have a lot to do, so I watched from a safe distance, and fell in love all over again.

At last, there was only one left. He had been the obvious leader of the group. He seemed slightly familiar, but I quickly decided it was just the leather duster he wore. Yes, he was Spike's build, and he had blue eyes, but that's where the similarity ended.

I could tell Buffy was enjoying herself. She toyed with him, hitting him hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to finish it. It went on for a while, and then she kicked him hard enough that he fell backwards, hitting his head on a grave stone. He was dazed enough to lie there, and before he could move, Buffy was astride him. She sat there, looking at him, and something about her expression made me uneasy.

"Now, you get staked," she told him.

To my surprise, he didn't try to fight, and he didn't look scared.

"Don't go treating it like a job now," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not like you haven't enjoyed the fight."

As he said those words, he ground his hips into her, obviously getting pleasure from the action, and grinning when he heard her response.

Buffy moaned. No, wait, I decided. She didn't moan. She growled. She made a sound that made it clear how disgusted she felt. She seemed to move too, but I persuaded myself I'd just imagined it. She was just adjusting her position so she could stake him. And again with the growling. And then she staked him.