Fix You by Enigmaticblue

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures where the First is involved. In order to prevent the end of the world, Buffy asks Willow to do a spell that's supposed to fix everything, and Spike goes along for the ride.

Chapter 20: Birthday Surprise

"What do you want for your birthday, honey?" Joyce asked.

Buffy sighed. She'd been hoping that everyone would forget about her birthday. They'd pretty much skipped right over the last one; no one had had time to celebrate with the First breathing down their necks, and the pressures of training the potentials.

In spite of the lack of celebration, that birthday had been about as bad as every other had been.

"I really don't want anything, Mom," Buffy said.

Joyce gave her a look. "Not even a cake?"

She shrugged. "I'm still operating under the Buffy-birthday-curse." Her eyes widened as she remembered what had happened on this particular birthday. While she'd warned Giles against having a drink with Ethan Rayne, it was probably a good idea to reiterate that warning.

"What about having everyone over for dinner?" Joyce suggested, clearly unwilling to give up on the idea of Buffy's birthday party.

Buffy knew that she wasn't going to get out of it. Her mom was going to insist that they do something for her birthday, and a dinner probably didn't have quite the potential for disaster. "Yeah, okay," she agreed. "I'll let everyone know. I need to see Giles today."

"Do you want a ride?" Joyce asked.

Buffy shook her head. "I'm good. I'll see you later, Mom."

She'd been staying with her mom over the weekend, rather than going back to the dorms. Spike had entered into a conspiracy with Joyce, and with them double-teaming her, Buffy hadn't really had a choice.

On the other hand, after Spike had told her what he'd overheard the soldiers saying, Buffy knew that campus wasn't the best place for her, particularly after dark.

They still hadn't decided what to do about the Initiative. Buffy knew that they had some time before Adam would escape—if he did this time. Without her involvement in the secret government program, who knew what would happen?

Although the sun was warm, the winter air had a bite to it. Her arm itched, and she glared at her cast. Buffy knew what the doctor had said about waiting two weeks, but she was sure that the bone would be healed before then. She hated waiting under any circumstances.

Buffy knocked on Giles' door, then walked inside. "Giles?"

"One moment," he called. "I was just getting cleaned up."

Buffy smirked, shaking her head. Giles and his jogging—something she'd never thought she'd see, and had forgotten she might see it again. She made herself comfortable on his couch, seeing the notes scattered about.

She started reading over them, recognizing Giles' cramped handwriting, and her own words. "I see you found our notes," Giles observed as he came down the stairs.

"Notes?" Buffy asked.

"Yes, Xander came over yesterday, wanting to know how he might help you." Giles sat down next to her on the couch. "I realize that you and Spike believed that this was something you had to do on your own, but that's not necessary anymore, Buffy. We would like to help you any way that we can."

Buffy blushed. Giles was right. She'd thought that she was alone in this—except for Spike, of course. She'd been alone for so long. Ever since her friends had brought her back from the dead, Buffy had felt isolated from them, and then after the First Evil had appeared, it had only gotten worse. Spike had been the only one she could trust.

There were moments when she forgot that this was a different time. The barriers that had sprung up between her and her friends and Watcher weren't there yet—unless she created them by deliberately shutting them out.

"I know, Giles. It's just—I don't know what to tell you."

"Why don't you start by telling me why you came over today?" Giles suggested.

"You know how I said that it wasn't a good idea to have a drink with Ethan Rayne?"

Giles nodded. "Yes, I remember you saying something about that."

Buffy gave him a rueful smile. "He's going to come to you with information, and I would suggest that you beat him up, instead of drinking with him."

"What happened the last time?" Giles asked, curious.

"He turned you into a Fyarl demon." Buffy frowned. "Come to think of it, I don't know if he slipped something magical in your drink, or did the spell somewhere else."

Giles didn't like the sound of that. "What happened?"

"Spike helped you," Buffy replied. "He was the only one who spoke Fyarl, and I thought you were trying to kill people, so I nearly killed you."

"It's nice to know that you didn't." He gave her a sympathetic look. "How is your arm?"

"It aches a little, but it's not bad. What do you think, Giles? About the Initiative. Adam is supposed to escape soon, but I don't know if Professor Walsh will activate him now."

Giles leaned back against the cushions. "Honestly, Buffy, I don't know. From what you've said, the last time, the Initiative essentially destroyed itself, from the inside out."

"Pretty much," Buffy agreed. "Adam helped it along, but—I can't let Adam kill a bunch of people this time."

"Understood." Giles patted her on the shoulder awkwardly. "But, Buffy—even if Adam does kill someone, it wouldn't be your fault."

"I know." Buffy understood that, but it didn't change the gut reaction she had at the thought of anyone dying. She was the Slayer; it was her job to protect people from things that went bump in the night, and when someone died, it was her fault.

At least, that's what it felt like.

"Mom said she wants to have a dinner for my birthday," Buffy told him. "I told her not to bother, but—"

"It's your birthday," Giles said. "Have you heard from your father this year?"

Buffy shook her head. "No, and I won't hear from him again."

He frowned. "Even after your mother—"

Buffy swallowed, still feeling the sting of his abandonment. "I think he runs off to Spain with his secretary pretty soon. He doesn't bother coming back."

"I'm sorry." Giles smiled. "I'd be happy to come to dinner."

"I'll let you know when we're having it," she said. Buffy glanced at the clock. "I should go see Spike. I told him we'd get together today."

Giles raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you call him? I'm sure he wouldn't mind picking you up."

Buffy gave him a dirty look. "I can walk, Giles. My arm might be broken, but my legs aren't."

"Pardon me for being concerned for your well being," he said dryly.

Buffy winced. "Mom said pretty much the same thing before I left the house today."

"We're both concerned for you." Giles gave her a stern look. "You must take care of yourself, Buffy, and you must let us help."

"Maybe we can talk about it at my party," Buffy said. "I promise I'll try to do better about filling you guys in on what's coming."

"See that you do."

Buffy hugged him impulsively. "Thanks, Giles."

"Of course." He patted her shoulder. "I'll see you soon."

Buffy nodded. She'd forgotten how nice it was to have her Watcher in her corner.

~~~~~

Willow opened the letter impatiently, her heart beating just a little bit faster.

"Willow,

By the time you get this letter, I'll be on my way back. Depending on how long I can make the money last, you'll probably see me in a few weeks. I don't know if you've waited for me, or if we can make it work, but I've missed you. I have a surprise for you when I get to Sunnydale. Love,

Oz."

So, that was it. Willow had a few weeks to figure out what she wanted, and then she'd be faced with a decision. It wasn't that she didn't love Oz anymore; she just didn't know if she could forgive him yet.

Maybe she wouldn't know until she saw him again.

A knock on the door startled her. She was about to invite her visitor inside, and then remembered that that might not be the best idea, daylight or not. Willow opened the door cautiously, and then smiled at her visitor. "Hey, Tara."

"Hi." Tara gave her a nervous smile. "I wanted to know if you wanted to get something to eat."

Willow glanced at the clock, realizing that it was nearly dinner time. "That would be great. You want to go to the cafeteria?"

"Sure."

Willow grabbed her student identification card. "Maybe we can get ice cream or something later," she suggested. "Buffy said something about meeting me off campus."

"Where is Buffy?" Tara asked. "I haven't seen her for a while again."

Willow made a face. "The soldiers attacked her the other night. She's staying off campus except for classes, at least for a while."

"You're here by yourself?" Tara asked.

Willow shrugged. "I usually meet up with her somewhere else."

"Is she in danger?"

"I think we're all in danger," Willow admitted. "Things are changing so fast, I don't think that Buffy knows what's coming, and that worries her."

Tara was quiet for a moment. "You know, there is a way."

Willow frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You could make a scrying bowl," Tara suggested.

Willow stared at her. "You know how to do that?"

Tara nodded. "I don't usually look into the future, but my mom taught me how. She was good at it."

At the expression on Tara's face, Willow asked, "What did she see?"

"Her own death." Tara took a deep breath. "It haunted her last days, because she knew what would happen to me after she died. She made me promise to leave, and to go to school."

Willow swallowed hard, getting a glimpse into what Tara's life at home must have been like. "Your dad didn't want you to go to college?"

"He didn't think it was necessary," Tara said, her tone of voice telling Willow that she wasn't going to say more.

"We could talk to Spike and Buffy about it tonight," Willow suggested.

Tara nodded unhappily.

Willow saw her discontent and was quick to reassure her. "They won't ask you to do anything that you're uncomfortable with."

Tara frowned. "If it helps—"

Willow shook her head. "Even if it helps, we might be able to get by without it. They might not need to know what's coming. We've managed before."

"Which is why they had to invoke powerful magicks to come back and fix things."

Willow had to acknowledge that Tara had a very good point.

~~~~~

"I would have picked you up," Spike said when he opened the door to admit Buffy.

She rolled her eyes in response. "Hello to you, too."

Spike sighed, then started over, leaning down to give her a long kiss. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Much better than everybody seems to think." Buffy gave him a concerned look. "How are you? After taking those demons on—"

"Ring, remember?" Spike held up his left hand, where the green gem glinted. "I'm right as rain."

"What does that even mean?" she asked. "How is rain right? And why is it more right than anything else?"

He chuckled. "No idea. It's just a saying."

"But it must have gotten to be a saying somehow," she protested.

"Maybe you should ask Willow." Spike raised an eyebrow. "She'll know if anybody does."

"Or she knows how to find out," Buffy agreed. In a quick change of subject, she added, "I'm really hungry."

"Got it covered," Spike said. "Have a seat."

Buffy did as he asked, frowning as he walked into his kitchen. "Did you cook? I didn't know you could cook."

"There's still a lot you don't know about me," Spike retorted. "Your birthday is comin' up, an' I seem to remember that it's not a good day for you."

"That's the understatement of the century," she muttered.

"So, I figured we'd have our own celebration tonight," Spike continued as though he hadn't heard her. He'd called Joyce earlier that day to talk to Buffy, only to find out that she'd already gone to Giles' place. Joyce had used the opportunity to talk to him about her daughter's birthday party.

Spike hadn't known what to think about the dinner idea. It was probably as good a plan as any, and there was less chance for disaster that way, but it didn't give him much of a chance to see Buffy alone.

This was, after all, the first birthday of hers where they'd been together, and he felt comfortable openly giving her a gift. Spike was certain that a gift was required this year, and he'd been trying to figure out what to give her.

Spike had no idea if she'd like his choice, however, and he wanted to give it to her in private, rather than risk public humiliation when she indicated that he'd made a mistake in front of everyone else.

Buffy stared at him. "And you're cooking dinner for me?"

"Yeah, an' your mum isn't expecting you home tonight. Told her you could stay here, an' I'd sleep on the couch."

Buffy snorted. "Like she believed that."

"Didn't say she believed it, but it lets the both of us keep up appearances," Spike said with a smile. "Anyway, I'm takin' care of you tonight, so you can just sit back an' enjoy it."

A soft smile played around the corners of her lips. "Okay."

Spike went about his dinner preparations, using a recipe that Joyce had recommended. Although his cooking skills were rudimentary at best, she'd assured him that anyone could make the pasta dish. He'd purchased the dessert from a bakery in town, and his bedroom was ready for the after-dessert portion of their evening.

"Are you sure I can't help?" Buffy called. "I burn water, but if you point me at the direction of some vegetables, I could probably chop. I'm good at chopping things."

"Sit." Spike gave her a stern look. "I already told you. What did you an' Giles talk about?"

She told him what her Watcher had said about being of more help, and Xander's offer of assistance. "Do you think we've shut them out?"

Spike concentrated on finding the right setting on the range top, rather than answering her question. In truth, he wasn't sure how to answer.

"Spike?" Buffy pressed. "Be honest."

He sighed. "Honestly? I don't know, luv. Your friends have never accepted me." She opened her mouth to protest, and he held up a hand to stop her. "Not until recently," he acknowledged. "It's changed, but that doesn't mean that I don't remember. Think you might feel the same."

Buffy nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's pretty much it. I keep expecting them to disapprove, or tell me how I'm not doing things right, and they haven't." She tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling. "When did that happen, Spike? When did my friends become the people I didn't trust?"

"Do you really need me to answer that question?" he asked softly.

"No." She met his eyes from across the room. "It was pretty much the same time you turned into the person I did trust."

Spike went back to stirring his sauce, not wanting to face her for the next stage of the conversation. He still wondered if he was dreaming sometimes, if this life he found himself in was merely the product of an over-active imagination. "I thought that was the soul."

"No." Buffy sighed "Do we have to talk about this now?" she asked plaintively. "We're going to have to go over the next few months in detail at my birthday party, so I'd really like to pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist tonight."

Spike smiled at her over his shoulder. "We can do that."

He finished making dinner. The recipe was as easy as Joyce had promised, and Buffy was so appreciative of the effort that went into it that Spike knew that he'd cook for her again.

As Buffy dug into the chocolate-raspberry torte he'd purchased, she let out a groan. "You know what would make this dinner perfect?"

"What's that?"

"You in an apron." She grinned at him.

Spike glowered. "Very funny."

"I think so," she said, sounding very satisfied with herself.

He shook his head in mock-annoyance, then began clearing the table.

"Get the dishes tomorrow," she suggested. "There's no rush tonight."

"No, there isn't." Spike left the dishes in the sink and waited until she'd finished her dessert. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked.

"The bathroom," Spike replied.

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "What's in the bathroom?"

"Your bath." Spike reached out for a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger. "Figure it's probably pretty hard to wash your hair with that cast."

"It is, but—"

"Let me take care of you tonight," Spike said softly. "Please."

"Okay."

Spike knew from the expression on her face that Buffy had just put herself completely in his hands. He could see the absolute trust in her eyes, and it humbled him. The fact that they could trust one another, after everything that had happened, was miraculous.

He undressed her with care, his touch almost chaste. Buffy ran her good hand down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as she went. "You're so beautiful."

"Look who's talking," he teased, starting the water and pouring in the scented bubbles.

She pressed herself against him. "I hope you're joining me."

"I don't think there's room for two in there." Spike put a hand under her elbow as she climbed into the tub, making sure that she didn't slip, or get her cast wet. Slowly, gently, he washed her, stealing kisses as often as he could, until he could hardly stand waiting.

And yet, Spike had been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time.

He'd loved the rough, wild sex that they'd indulged in. Spike had loved the pain that she'd brought him in all of its forms; he got off on it. Knowing that Buffy wouldn't allow him to be tender had caused him to want it all the more. For the longest time, Spike had wanted to worship her—to show her how good it could be.

The fact that her birthday was coming up presented him with the perfect opportunity.

Spike had washed Drusilla's hair before, when she'd been too ill to do it herself. Buffy's reaction to the attention was much like his former lover's; she became boneless under his hands, relaxing until Spike thought she might fall asleep right there in the tub.

Somehow, they made it back to his bed, Buffy ignoring her wet hair in favor of Spike's arms, among other attributes.

"I love you." Spike spoke the words at the same time as Buffy, and they both laughed. "There's one more thing, Buffy."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "More? Because I'm thinking that this might take the cake for best birthday present ever."

"It's in the drawer." Spike reached for the bedside table, Buffy's weight effectively pinning him, unless he tumbled her off—which he had no intention of doing. He fished around for a few moments, and then came up with a black box. "I know it's not much, an' if you don't like it, you can always take it back. I won't mind."

"I'm sure it's great, Spike." Buffy was just about to open the box when the phone rang.

"Let's ignore it," he said.

Buffy shook her head. "We can't. What if it's an emergency?"

Spike sighed and reached for the phone, knowing that Buffy was right. He really wished that he wasn't dating a hero sometimes; this was one of those times. "This better be good." Buffy gave him a dirty look for his brusque greeting, but Spike ignored her.

"It's Willow," she said, sounding hesitant. "Is this a bad time?"

"You could say that." Spike sighed. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Willow said slowly. "I just thought that you might want to meet Tara and me for ice cream. She has an idea for how you guys might be able to predict the future, even though things are changing."

"Great." Spike tried to work up some enthusiasm, but his mind was on something else at the moment. "Can we talk about it some other time?"

"Um, sure," Willow agreed readily. "I'll talk to Buffy tomorrow."

"Good idea," Spike said dryly. "I'll tell her to call you." He hung up the phone without giving Willow a chance to reply, although he knew it was a bit rude.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "You could have been more polite."

"I could have," he agreed. "But she interrupted."

"She didn't know, Spike." Buffy sounded more amused than annoyed, however, and Spike knew there were no hard feelings on her part.

His eyes went to the black box she was still holding. "'m not interested in Willow right now, pet."

She grinned at him. "I think you're more excited about this than I am."

"If you feel the same way after you open it, I'll be worried." Spike cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

Buffy snickered and fumbled open the box. Her eyes widened, and she touched the pendant inside reverently. "Spike...this is too much."

"Nothin' is too much."

Two intertwined circles—one silver, one gold—hung from a silver chain, a diamond suspended between them.

"I thought it was fitting," Spike said softly, searching her face anxiously. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Buffy asked incredulously. "I love it, Spike. No one has ever given me anything this beautiful." She pulled it out of the box with a trembling hand. "Put it on me?"

"Of course." Spike fastened it around her neck, brushing her hair out of the way.

She kissed him, deeply, hungrily, pushing him down on the bed one-handed and straddling his middle. "I think it might take me all night to say thank you."

"I'm all yours, Slayer."

"Forever?" Buffy asked, her eyes holding his.

"As long as you'll have me."

"Forever it is."

Buffy was right; it did take all night.