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 45: Close Call

Buffy didn’t think she’d ever been quite so scared in her life. At least Spike had collapsed like a ton of bricks, rather than disintegrating on the spot. She quickly staked the vampire she’d been fighting off, then dispatched the one that had injured her fiancé.

Anger and fear gave her strength and speed beyond what she normally possessed, and she was by Spike’s side in seconds. “Oh, God, Spike. Please be okay.”

It was very nearly a prayer, and Buffy stared at the stake, unable to decide whether she should pull it out or not. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “Okay, think. How do I do this?”

The stake was clearly close to his heart; she knew that much from her experience, but she’d never had to pull one out before. Of course, if she didn’t pull it out and then tried to carry him, it might shift and end up staking him.

“Shit.” Buffy grasped the stake firmly, and yanked it out as quickly and as smoothly as she could.

Spike moaned. “Buffy?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay,” she promised, keeping her hand over the wound. “Do you know the combination to Giles’ safe?”

“Why?”

“Because once you put the ring on, you’ll feel a hell of a lot better.”

Spike cracked an eyelid open. “Point. Yeah, he gave it to me just in case.”

“I think this qualifies.” She rose to her feet, then pulled Spike up after her, keeping a firm grip around his waist and slinging one of his arms over her shoulders. “You know, last time I was the one getting staked with my own weapon.”

“I remember,” Spike grunted. “Glad it was me.”

Buffy snorted. “Maybe you are, but I think I lost ten years of my life, watching you come that close to death.”

Spike winced. “Yeah, well, I’m still glad it was me.”

They limped along in silence towards Giles’ apartment. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“That a new thing for you?”

“Shut up.” Buffy said it without any heat, knowing that Spike tended to get more sarcastic when he was hurt. “Maybe you should go back to wearing the ring full time.”

His brow furrowed. “Thought we agreed it was too dangerous.”

“It might be too dangerous for you to go without,” Buffy pointed out reasonably. “If Glory’s made you a target, that ring could be the only thing standing between you and a dusty end.”

Spike was quiet.

“I can’t lose you,” Buffy said. “I told you that.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

She knew that was really all she could ask of him. In the end, any decision about the ring had to be his.

The remainder of the trip to Giles’ place was made in silence; Buffy knew that Spike was concentrating on staying conscious and ambulatory. “Can you pick the lock, or do I need to break in?” she asked once they reached their destination.

“If you can keep me on my feet, think I can manage it.”

Buffy kept a tight hold on the vampire while he worked on picking the lock. When the door swung open, she maneuvered him inside and onto the couch, then went to the safe under Giles’ desk. “What’s the combination?”

“48-18-26-4-33.”

She spun the dial as carefully as possible, wanting to get it right the first time; Buffy didn’t want Spike to suffer any longer than he had to. The safe was full of papers and old books, but she didn’t see the ring anywhere. “Do you know what he put it in?”

“Dunno that he put it in anything,” Spike replied. “I didn’t see him stash it.”

“Crap.” Buffy rummaged around, finally feeling something hard and cold in the corner. She pulled the ring out and dashed over to her fiancé, sliding the ring on his finger.

The wound in his chest closed almost instantly, and he let out a sigh of relief. “It’s gonna be bloody hard to give this up again.”

“I know. I think you should keep it. You’ve got more to worry about from Glory than a bunch of vampires.”

“Until those vampires manage to get their hands on this,” Spike replied, holding up the hand wearing the ring. “Then you’ll have one more problem.”

“I would rather have that problem than be worrying about you, or worse.”

Buffy knew she’d won when he curled his fingers into a fist. “Right.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

~~~~~

“There. I think that does it.”

Tara looked over at her girlfriend with gratitude. “I’m sure that Joyce will appreciate this.”

“She’ll eat well at least,” Mairead replied.

Tara looked around the freshly cleaned kitchen. The two of them had spent most of the day at the Summers’ residence. She’d decided that she could miss her classes that day, and she and Mairead had used the time to clean the house and fill the fridge with food. Spike had been a willing conspirator, giving them money for groceries and keeping Buffy away. Willow had had a test, so she hadn’t been able to participate.

“They should be here any minute now,” Tara said. “Do you think it’s okay?”

“I think you’ll get a bonus out of it.” Mairead winked to let Tara know she wasn’t serious. “And I know she’ll appreciate it, sweetie.”

Whatever Tara might have said was interrupted by the opening of the front door. “Are you alright, Mom?”

“My legs work perfectly well, Buffy,” Joyce said, sounding a little impatient. “I told you; I feel fine.”

“I know, but you might be doing that stiff upper lip thing.”

“I think I’d know if she were,” Giles replied. “I’m British. It’s our thing.”

“See?” Joyce asked. “I have plenty of people looking after me.”

“Come on, Mom.” That would be Dawn, and Tara knew the girl couldn’t wait to see what they’d been conspiring to do.

Joyce walked into the freshly cleaned kitchen to see Tara and Mairead, and her eyes went wide. “What—”

“It was Tara’s idea,” Buffy broke in, quick to share the glory. “She wanted to make sure you didn’t have to lift a finger for a while.”

Dawn piped up. “I helped make some of the stuff.” When Buffy glared at her, she added defensively, “I helped stir the spaghetti sauce.”

Joyce appeared to be alarmingly close to tears, and she moved to hug both Tara and Mairead in turn. “That was too sweet of you. You really shouldn’t have.”

“We were happy to do it,” Tara insisted. “That way you can concentrate on healing.”

Joyce smiled, although it was a little watery. “Still, it was very nice.”

Spike came into the kitchen a few moments later. “Put the suitcases upstairs, Joyce,” he announced. “You need anythin’ else?”

“I think we could all use a cup of tea,” Giles said. “Why don’t you sit down?”

The words were innocuous enough, but his expression spoke volumes. It was clear to Tara that Giles’ relationship with Joyce had progressed quite a bit in the two weeks they’d been gone. She supposed that it only made sense. They had quite a bit in common, and going through an experience like brain surgery together was bound to either bring them closer or drive them apart. She wondered how Buffy and Dawn would deal with it.

“I’ll get the tea,” Spike said. “Why don’t you girls sit down an’ fill them in on how the gallery an’ the shop are doin’?”

“There are cookies in the freezer,” Tara said on her way out of the kitchen. She took a seat on the floor next to her girlfriend while Joyce, Dawn, and Giles sat on the couch. Buffy sat on the chair, asking, “So, are you done with the doctor?”

“Not quite,” Joyce admitted. “I’ll have to go back in a month for a check-up, and I’ll have frequent visits after that, but the doctor was pleased with my progress.” She looked at Tara. “How has the gallery been?”

“Your substitute has been really great,” Tara replied. Joyce had hired a woman fresh out of school, who had been more than willing to fill in until she started graduate school in the spring. “But it’ll be good to have you back.”

Joyce smiled. “The doctor hasn’t cleared me for work yet, but it’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.”

“How have you and Anya been getting on?” Giles asked Mairead, his arm around Joyce’s shoulders.

Tara could see the expression on Dawn’s face as she watched her mom and Giles. She was clearly not sold on the idea of Joyce being in a relationship with him, although Tara couldn’t blame her; she had a feeling that the teen wouldn’t be happy about Joyce dating anyone.

Mairead shrugged. “Oh, fine. Once I assured her that I had no designs on her job, nor any desire to give orders, we got along swimmingly.”

Giles chuckled. “I’m assuming she’s at the shop today.”

“We didn’t want to overwhelm Mrs. Summers,” Mairead said with a nod at Joyce.

“Call me Joyce,” she said. “And I doubt I’d be overwhelmed.”

“You shouldn’t wear yourself out,” Giles chided, just as Spike came into the room with a tea tray.

Tara noticed that there were only four cups on the tray, and she smiled, knowing a hint when she saw one. “We should get going. We’ve got a few errands to run.”

“I do, too,” Spike said. “I’ll drop you ladies off wherever you need to go.”

Buffy frowned. “Spike, do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a warning look.

She did not look appeased, but acquiesced. “Be careful.”

They said their goodbyes, then walked out with him. “What was Buffy so concerned about?” Mairead asked.

Spike shrugged. “What isn’t she worried over? We’ve got problems with Glory, an’ problems with various vamps around town, wantin’ the ring. Hard to fend off both at once.”

“That’s why you went back to wearing the ring,” Tara observed. “Because of Glory.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Hard to argue with the Slayer when she gets worried.”

“If there’s anything we can do,” Tara began.

Spike gave her a grateful look. “Thanks, pet. Dunno what that might be, but I’ll let you know.”

As he walked away, Tara couldn’t help but think that he was between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go.

~~~~~

Giles was beginning to wonder when Joyce was going to insist that he leave. Now that their relationship was out in the open, he supposed it didn’t matter quite so much if he stayed the night. He thought she might be getting tired of his company after two weeks of him being constantly by her side, however.

“Would you check on Dawn for me?” Joyce asked quietly. “I know I should, but—”

“Stay,” he said quietly. “It’s been a long day for you.” Joyce was doing quite well, but she still tired easily, and he didn’t mind. “I should probably be going home soon.”

“Of course,” Joyce said. “You haven’t even been back to your apartment yet. I’m sorry, I—”

“Hush. It’s no trouble. I just thought you might want me to leave.”

“Hardly.” She guided his face to hers with a gentle hand, meeting his lips with a sweetness Giles hadn’t quite believed he deserved. “Have I thanked you for staying with me?”

He smiled. “Several times.” Giles kissed her again tenderly, knowing that eventually he’d be able to give free rein to his passion. They were still moving slowly by necessity, but some of the comments she’d let drop lately told him that going slow wouldn’t last much longer. “I’ll check on Dawn, then come back to say goodnight.”

Giles knocked on Dawn’s door tentatively. He knew that they were still feeling one another out, unsure of what their relationship would look like. While he had no trouble knowing how to be Buffy’s Watcher, or Joyce’s boyfriend, Giles had no idea how to define himself in relation to Dawn.

“Come in.”

“Your mother wanted me to check on you,” Giles said, poking his head in. He realized that he’d never been in her bedroom before, and the only time he’d been inside Buffy’s was when she’d been infected with the demon blood. It felt decidedly odd.

Dawn shrugged, not looking up from her book. “I’m okay.”

“What are you reading?” He felt as though he ought to make some sort of effort, poor as it might be.

She glanced up. “Jane Eyre. Spike said I’d like it.”

He took a step inside her room. “And do you?”

“It’s okay,” Dawn said. “She’s really emotional all the time.”

“I believe that has much to do with Charlotte Brontë, the author. She had quite a sad life.”

Dawn sat up. “Really?”

It was the first conversation they’d had that was just between the two of them, Giles realized. “Yes. The school described in the first part of the book was modeled on one she was sent to as a girl.”

She made a face. “That’s really awful.”

“There were many schools that were,” Giles replied.

Dawn gave him a sharp look. “How come you know all of this stuff?”

“I was required to read the book for one of my university courses, and we discussed the author as part of it.” Giles wasn’t sure where the information had come from; he could remember learning it, but he had no idea why it had remained in his memory for all these years.

“Cool.”

Giles hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I realize that Spike often helps you with your homework, but if you need additional assistance, please let me know.”

Dawn gave him a measuring look. “Okay. Can I ask you a question?”

“You may.”

“Why do you like my mom so much?”

Giles wasn’t sure how to answer that. “I don’t know. She’s a wonderful woman, of course, but I suppose it’s because we have quite a bit in common, and the chemistry is right.”

“Things in common like Buffy?”

Giles thought he knew where she was going with this, and he had no idea how to respond. Dawn was right, of course. He and Joyce had Buffy in common, but not Dawn. He could understand why she would feel left out. “There’s more to it than that,” he replied, knowing that the response was inadequate at best.

“It’s okay,” Dawn said. “I know you’re Buffy’s Watcher.”

“Yes, well, I thought we might try being friends.” Giles had no idea where those words had come from. After all, he didn’t routinely make friends with fourteen-year-old girls.

On the other hand, he’d never dated a woman with a teenage daughter, either.

She gave him a long look, as though gauging his sincerity, and then smiled. “Alright.”

He returned her smile. “Goodnight, Dawn.”

“’Night.”

He released a deep breath as he closed her door behind him. Oddly enough, Giles thought that he might have done that right.

~~~~~

Graham hadn’t thought it would ever happen, but he was getting used to Sunnydale. He was almost fond of the place, in fact.

He’d viewed it as his duty to stay in town when most of his team went on another assignment.

The army brass were beginning to realize that a small team like his couldn’t do much, but they still seemed to find some value in keeping personnel in Sunnydale—probably because they knew it was a hotbed of demonic activity. It was cheaper to leave a few men there to observe and leave the hard work to the Slayer without actually acknowledging her existence than it would be to keep a full-scale operation in town.

He glanced up from the book he was reading when the knock on the door came and went to answer it. “Buffy. What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” she asked.

Graham stepped aside to allow her entrance. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I’m worried about Spike,” she said without preamble.

Graham frowned. “He seems pretty capable to me.”

“He is,” Buffy said quickly, sitting down on the couch and wrapping her arms around herself. “He’s really capable. It’s just that we had this plan where Spike would play moving target so that Glory wouldn’t figure out about me being the Slayer.”

“And now he’s the target?”

“Pretty much. I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“He doesn’t want me to worry.” She gave him a strained smile. “I just want him alive on our wedding day.”

Graham sat down next to her. “What do you want me to do?”

Buffy hesitated. “Could you just—I don’t know, watch out for him?”

His lips quirked into a half smile. “You mean if I just happen to run into him while I’m out, I could act like we’re best friends.”

“Pretty much.” She sighed. “I know it’s not much of a solution, but I’d feel better.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll let the other guys know to do the same, too.”

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “That’s not the only reason I came over, though. Mom’s having Thanksgiving this year, and I thought you might want to come, if you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not,” Graham replied. “That would be nice.”

Buffy smiled. “It should be quite the crowd, but I think it’ll be pretty quiet. We’re not expecting any trouble.”

“Anything coming up that I should know about?” he asked. Although he hadn’t quite accepted that they had been to the future, he’d decided to act as though they had. It was clear that Buffy had information that he didn’t have access to, and he wasn’t above using it.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. It’s hard to say, though. A lot has changed since last time.”

Graham nodded. “What time should I be there for dinner?”

“About three?” she said. “That’s when we’re eating.”

Graham walked her to the door, putting a hand on her shoulder as she was about to leave. “Buffy—if you need anything, let me know. You or Spike.”

“Thank you.”

She was gone the next minute, but Graham didn’t think he’d mistaken the grief in her eyes, and he wondered where it had come from.

~~~~~

“Oh, crap!”

Xander had been waiting for that sound. Anya had promised to bring the rolls to Thanksgiving dinner, and although last year she’d simply bought them from the store, this year she’d decided to impress everybody and make them from scratch.

“Is everything okay?” he called from the couch. He’d offered to help earlier, but she’d told him in no uncertain terms to get out of her kitchen.

He kind of liked the fact that she was calling it “her” kitchen, even though she hadn’t completely moved in yet.

“The rolls didn’t rise,” she said, turning to look at him. “They look like little lumps. What happened?”

“I have no idea,” Xander said quickly, wanting to escape blame. “I’ve never made bread in my life.”

Anya frowned at the clock. “What am I going to do? I don’t have time to make more before we leave.”

“We’ll stop at the store on our way over,” Xander soothed. “No one is going to know the difference.”

“I wanted to make them myself!” Anya protested. “Mairead and Tara are making their contributions, and so is Willow.”

Xander knew that she had been feeling slightly inadequate lately. Mairead had pretty much given her the run of the shop, but Giles was less willing to take orders.

It made sense, of course; Giles was the boss, while Mairead was just temporary. That didn’t make Anya feel any better now that she’d been in charge, though.

He sighed. “There really isn’t much we can do, An. We can either stop by the store, or we can go without rolls, and I don’t think that’s going to satisfy.”

She pouted—very prettily. Xander still wasn’t quite immune to that expression, but he hoped that came with time. “I could run to the store and get the rolls that you have to bake,” he suggested, not sure she would accept that compromise. “It wouldn’t take that long.”

“I guess.” Anya was clearly unhappy with the situation, but Xander didn’t think there was more he could do. “Do you think anyone will notice?”

He shrugged. “If they don’t, I won’t say anything. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

When she agreed, he breathed a sigh of relief and left before she could change her mind, then made a mental note to pick up flowers while he was at the store. He had a feeling that she would appreciate that, and when Anya was happy, so was he.

Even though Xander thought they should wait a while, he was beginning to understand the appeal of marriage. The idea of spending the rest of his life with someone wasn’t quite so scary these days.