Summary: Post Harsh Light of Day. Buffy’s evening takes a drastic turn when she discovers an extremely ill Spike, collapsed and half-starved on a stormy Sunnydale night. It isn’t until she promises to help him that she realizes that her life will never be the same.
Rating: NC-17
Chapter 36
Language was a modal shift he no longer had the skills to comprehend. Smells slammed into the blackness of his mind and encouraged an opening to light. Beats of life gripped him in lust for blood and he crept ever closer to awareness. Growls tore from his throat without knowledge, low and feral as he fought for comprehension. When movement at last became possible, he leapt to his feet and scanned the bodies that surrounded him. The pumping hearts were almost deafening in their multitude and he swung his head back and forth assessing his prey. Primal need took over and his demon face usurped the other in a race of dominance. But as he raised his body of power to jump on the one restrained- her wary fear-filled eyes flicking from one body to another- the metallic clanking of chains made him fumble and fall to his knees. Frantically he pulled and twisted to right his control, strength waning against the force of steel, and his growls increased both in volume and intensity.
His calculating gaze shifted back and forth between the figures and finally rested on one that dared to close in on him. This one was small and fair, but he could smell courage and power enough to cut off his continual growling. He stared at her, mystified by her daring and a little overwhelmed by her smell. He did not sense fear, but some other emotion that he had never experienced aimed at himself before. She was tearful, sad-and suddenly within biting distance. He had been quiet in his study of her, but as she made a sound-her soft mouth opening briefly to curve around that one word he could not understand-he lunged for her. With the aid of the chains he had her underneath him in an instant with his fangs buried deep in her throat.
In the flash of another second, he had retracted his fangs and was licking- nuzzling her neck like a lost, frightened cub to his mother. He sought reassurance and belonging, recognising her blood as home. He felt trapped all of a sudden, knowing with a depth that shocked him that these heartbeats were to be left alone. His home was not alarmed or frightened so he clung to her, holding her against his body hard while still swivelling to check out the others that had begun to move closer to him. His body began to shake in a division of want and need, and he felt his bloodlust battle to take over. Some tiny flash within him crashed with a buzz of pain and he hurt with a vision of blood red staining walls and floors.
Damage.
His damage.
He didn't understand these structures-- walls, doors, floors. The coverings all around him were strange, his own and the female that he held onto with his life. Everything was different and he started to howl his confusion and fear, gripping her to him all the more, then burying his face against her smooth skin as she returned his desperate embrace. Both of them now covered in tears, bodies shaking with terror and fire. While encompassed in her safe embrace he allowed the vision of others to recede and he surrendered all that he was to her, home. She would protect him now.
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After Buffy's harried instruction to accumulate near the door, the room had hushed. Surprisingly, the Scoobies were united in their concern for the vampire who had snuck his way into their sanctuary almost without objection. What objection had existed had all been swallowed up by fury at the blond psycho tied securely to one of Giles's dining chairs. The only sound voluble in the cramped space was the animalistic growling of Spike. Confidence dipped dramatically as his eyes swept abruptly over them, judging them as potential food.
Willow squeaked when Spike jumped to his unsteady feet, swaying but still unaware of his restraints. The electrified blue gaze fixated on Professor Walsh, and the Scoobies sighed in both relief and a vindictive pleasure that she might be attacked by her own creation. As Buffy moved closer and Spike changed his focus to her, Xander slumped in disappointment.
Her gentle and comforting call of his name, "Spike," had them all hoping and holding their breath.
All eyes watched the interplay nervously, hoping that Buffy's confidence would be rewarded, when they were all shocked to screams as he blurred in movement. They next saw Buffy securely held beneath him with fangs in her throat. Before anyone could move to stake him, though, he had retracted his teeth and lay against her in an intimate search for his place. All eyes were glued to the couple in fascination but also on the brink of embarrassment.
Taken over almost by a magnetic pull, they emerged from their restraint and began to gravitate back toward them. His frantic looks caused them to halt but already there was a sense of calm and commitment to whatever was to be done. The Scooby group joined their blond warriors in tears, almost unbidden but in support for the wrench that had become their existence. As Spike began to meld into Buffy, they all turned back to Maggie Walsh and shared a satisfied smirk at her look of outrage and disappointment.
Giles stomped forward in force, ready to smack her again if need be.
"I guess you underestimated this...creature...that you created. Or maybe primal demons weren't so ferocious as you'd hoped?" He sneered at her, unreasonably chuffed that this potentially devastating experienced seemed within their control. The Scooby superiority seemed well-deserved at that moment, and he took a few moments to gloat, glancing briefly at Xander to find he had company.
"Right. Buffy. What do you need? Should we get him some pigs blood, to remind him what he is used to feeding on?"
Appreciation settled on her face as she turned to her Watcher and smiled happily, if not tiredly.
"That would be perfect, Giles. I think we should keep him out here with us. I don't want him to think we've abandoned him."
As everyone at last felt at ease they found a place or chair to relax and fell upon it in tremendous relief. They sat in quiet contemplation-- the only sound microwave pings announcing perfectly heated blood-- and all jumped in surprise when there was a demanding knock at the door. A sharp glance around confirmed that pretty much everyone that they knew was already squished into the flat, but as Buffy rested her eyes back on her mate her confusion cleared.
"Giles," she said as she took the mug of blood from his hands, a bendy straw pointing right at her. "I think it might be Angel."
Giles looked at her in understanding before hurrying to the door. Opening revealed an extremely pissed off vampire in gameface who brushed aside the Watcher as he practically flew to his Childe in a swirl of black, leathery menace.
He turned to take in the hostage, the Scoobies, and what appeared to be the military in an escalating fury.
"What the fuck have you done to William?"
Angel followed the trajectory of a number of guilty looks, all falling upon an older woman tethered to a chair. He glared at her with the full force of his familial vengeance. Turning abruptly to Buffy he felt pulled toward the twin pinpricks on her neck, still seeping blood.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, though distracted by the submissive form of his Childe against her shoulder, and his fury reached new heights.
She nodded shakily, her arms wrapped protectively around the body of her lover as her eyes misted over again.
"I don't know what to do." Her voice crumbled from intense emotional overload and she gasped a sob as Spike whimpered against her collarbone. She held him with a fierceness of possession and darted looks of hate towards the prisoner.
"He recognised you as his mate at least," Angel told her, his weak gesture to her neck. "We'll work it out. There has to be something..."
"Oh, there's nothing you can do. I doubt he will ever be the vampire you knew." Maggie Walsh spoke in a confident, arrogant manner that set every male in the Scooby core on edge. The commandos flinched from association, sure that she had flipped.
Despite the stand of solidarity between Xander and Giles in favour of Spike, Angel came out the clear leader within seconds of hearing the Professor speak.
"Do you know much about Vampires? Know of any in particular?" His voice was a cool threat and Willow and Anya stepped closer to Xander and Giles, nervous about the flash of the Angelus side of his personality.
"Oh, I know about William the Bloody. Very intriguing specimen." Her demeanor remained calm as she observed them, still secure in her safety, but as Angel took just one threatening step toward her, her blood suddenly turned icy.
"Did you read about William's family?"
"Of course, the line of Aurelius is renowned. Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and William."
He took another step to her and her small smile became a reluctant frown.
"And which one of those do you think I might be?"
The room gasped as an Irish accent tripped from Angel's tongue, the hard authoritative tone breaking through something in Spike and causing his growling search for familiarity to begin again.
Professor Walsh suddenly got it, her eyes widening in alarm. She darted a quick, pleading glance to her officers, turning back in despair when she finally understood that they were not going to help her.
"I don't think I heard your guess." Angel had taken another step closer and was now positioned within striking distance. One more step and he dropped to his haunches in front of her.
"Angelus?" she all but whispered and flinched at his harsh burst of laughter, then shrieking in terror as his gameface surged to the forefront.
"Aye, you'd be right then. And how do you think Angelus might react to someone trying to hurt his family? Did you research vampire attitudes to family?"
"I...ahh yes, they are, um, fiercely protective of other family members."
Remaining in demon face, Angel subtly changed back to his normal voice as he continued to observe her.
"You'll want to hope," he started out calm, quiet, "that there is a way to bring William back, or you will be dead. Soul or not, no one fucks around with my family."
He stood with a finality that almost stopped time. One beat later he was directing silent questions at Giles, then gently placing his arms around the still-distraught blond couple, easing them away from the crowd and through to Giles's study.
As the tension began to dissipate, there was movement about the room. Giles set to offering beverages, and Xander rejoined a thoroughly unnerved and unnaturally quiet Anya -taking her stiff, rigid body in his arms to reassure her that the major bad was done for now-and started to discuss the merits of pizza as a good upper.
General consent was voluble and so orders were phoned in and trivial points of discussion were engaged in, the commandos abandoning their weapons at the door and partaking of the courtesies of their host. Almost everyone ignored the Professor, but as Anya walked past she tried out her right foot in a swinging motion and smiled in pleasure as her hard shoe came into contact again with the woman's shin.
"That's for Spike, and for thinking you have the right to experiment on demons. There is so much vengeance rolling around in here right now, you'd better be grateful that I lost my pendant." With a look filled with satisfaction Anya flounced away to wrap her arms once again around Xander's waist, the confused stare of the Professor following her.
After a good portion of the pizza had disappeared, with a few slices left over for Buffy for later if she was hungry, they all sat around the table to discuss what they might do with their captive and how they should go about destroying Adam.
Riley and his friends needed to return to base: Giles knew it was time for them to make some fast decisions. With Willow's help, he located a binding spell that would prevent Maggie Walsh from escaping her ropes, and a simple barrier that would protect her while they all slept. Though primarily it held her in, it also kept out any dark-haired vampires that decided that it was time to wreak vengeance.
With the disappearance of Willow, Xander and Anya, and a promise of their speedy return first thing in the morning, he sat down at his table in weary contemplation. It had been such a short time since their world had been turned upside down. They had all received a splendid gift, he knew that. Having Spike on their side could be a turning point for them, and with a groan of relief he hoped that it could also mean an extended existence for Buffy. From a few barbed comments from Buffy, he knew that if Spike had not been awarded his soul early on this time line, then he would have suffered at the hands of the Slayer. From what he had gathered, Spike's journey had been long and fraught with all manner of misunderstandings and misjudged motives. His efforts to change received little encouragement or support, and Giles knew that the responsibility for that probably lay at his own door. He not only had taught Buffy, but also her friends the rules in regard to demons. He had no doubt that his own teachings could never have paved the way for William the Bloody, he was his own law altogether. Unfortunately, the books had never been written and so he suffered at their prejudiced hands. How many years of happiness had Buffy forfeited because of his own beliefs?
How had Spike borne staying with them, continuing his efforts to be good?
He didn't blame himself completely¾ knowing that Buffy's own abuse stemmed from her resurrection, bringing another problem sharply into focus. After the engagement and blindness debacle, he had started to investigate options for Willow, knowing that he could not put off her instruction forever, but wishing he could bow out altogether. He had come as a Watcher to one Slayer¾ an unruly, disobedient Slayer at that¾ but here he was directing all her friends as well. He felt like a nursery teacher sometimes. But responsibility demanded that he take care of the witch. She needed to learn control and limits, so that she didn't attempt anything like she felt she had to in the future.
They had so much knowledge of the future: enough to make a difference, a change for the better. A shiver slithered down his spine but he refused to contemplate the possibilities of certain events repeating themselves with the same horrid outcome. With an almost negligent glance he encountered the frosty eyes of the Professor and startled slightly; he had forgotten that she was there. Being confronted with her presence brought back into focus the vampire occupation of his home.
Spike!
What the bloody hell were they going to do for him?
He hoped with all his might that Angel knew enough and was devoted enough to bring back his Childe to the twenty-first century. He grinned at Walsh with malice tainting his lips, reminded of the lack of chip, and Ripper almost hoped that Spike regained enough sense to rip the cow's throat out.
He took out his hidden bottle of scotch and started loading up the first glass of the night. The reality burned down the back of his throat and he felt confident.
They would change the important things. It didn't make sense that they got this opportunity if the same things just continued to happen.
A few more shots and he felt pleasantly buzzed, creeping down the hall to eavesdrop on the small crowd in his study. All he heard was weeping, growling, and curiously, some clicking. He shuddered, fearing it was hopeless, and made his way back to fall on the sofa in exhaustion. And remained there throughout the night.
Angel stood still by the closed door, his fearful gaze unable to look away from the blonde pair clinging to each other in front of him. His body began to hum in dread as Buffy’s eyes turned to him, the question he didn’t want to answer plain as day.
“You can help him, right?”
Her tears had always sliced open a vulnerable part of him, and he felt his strength crumble. He felt like laughing. Out of pure hysteria. He didn’t think Buffy would take it the way he intended though, so he took a few excruciating moments to compose himself. When the rising urge to laugh had fled, it was quickly replaced by the need to howl like an animal at the destruction of its progeny. Observing Spike and his whimpering reluctance to release Buffy for even a moment, had him giving in; the anger and fear combining to create a perfectly animalistic sound of grief. Recognising something of the demonic rule Spike answered with his own series of sad yowls, perhaps not understanding that the song was for himself.
Buffy clung to him, her face slippery and red from the tears that had not abated since she had first set eyes on him tonight. Her fingers combed gently through his hair and she resorted herself to making inhuman noises to convey her serious fear at the condition of her mate. The sensitive pads of her fingers found ribs of scalp, rough with stitching that had not been removed, though vampire healing had closed the skin off over the top. She flinched, knowing that they would have to cut him open again to get rid of the thread. Her eyes had earlier catalogued all the cuts and bruises visible on his face, but now she knew from the various flinches when in contact that his body would be covered as well, and she swallowed hard knowing that her stomach could well get another workout.
Kissing the side of his mouth in she turned again to Angel. She stayed silent,- both her own and his-reassurance aware that her earlier question still hung like a death knoll between them.
“I don’t know.” Angel never spoke loudly, and he often looked overwhelmed with just the average daily interaction between people and life, but now the challenge was a larger one. His voice sounded odd to himself, out of control.
“Maybe the ritual…” his voice tapered off, hoping that Buffy knew what he referred to without him having to explain farther.
She sniffed. “Wouldn’t we need Dru? She is his real Sire, isn’t she?”
Her throat was sore, clogged from her endless tears and she couldn’t even swallow to rid herself of the painful lump. She was afraid that if she flushed herself of the little reminder that she hurt then she might fall into a numbness she even-wouldn’t be able to escape from. This was taking a huge emotional toll and she wasn’t sure if she could-more than the feelings of leaving heaven survive if she couldn’t have Spike back.
She thought more of the ritual that Angel referred to, the one that had first brought Spike into her life when and destroy Angel in the-he was desperate to restore his loony girlfriend process. She had taken it personally at the time, but knowing Spike like she did now, she had no lingering belief that he hadn’t felt regret at the thought of having to destroy a member of his family to return Dru to her former strength. She frowned in sudden understanding.
“I don’t think that would work. It was to restore her strength, right? Didn’t do anything to improve her insanity.” The bitter barb was ignored for the release of fear that it was.
Angel nodded slowly, feeling frantic at his inability to quickly think of a solution.
“Well, what do you know about what that bitch out there did to him?” He had changed in his fury, back to the subtle reminders of Angelus, causing little shivers of shock to race over her skin.
Buffy pulled back a little from Spike, trying to look into his eyes. His confusion confirmed that he didn’t have a clue of who they were or what they said.
“She implied that they had tortured him into forcing his demon back to his primitive state. Riley told us a little earlier, but we really don’t know much. He doesn’t recognise any of us, or even understand what we are saying, and he hasn’t shaken his demon off since he woke up.” She told all of this to Angel while gently stroking the vampiric grooves of Spike’s face, hoping the soothing tones of her voice would encourage him to feel secure with both her and Angel and to let go a little, allowing them to check out what else the Initiative had done to him.
Angel’s pensive gaze shimmered a little and he felt a sudden clarity. His eyes widened in hope as he bent down to kneel near them and tugged on Buffy’s hand to pull them into a similar position. Spike watched him warily, but made no move to pull away and Angel sighed in relief.
“It’s like she’s made his soul retreat to somewhere safe. She’s allowed the demon to take control. I don’t know how she could have taken away memory and knowledge to make him primeval, though.”
Buffy blinked. “But what can we do to fix him?”
Angel shuddered with hopelessness. He didn’t know what to tell her. Nothing like this had ever been done to a vampire before. And again, Spike was unique. If he wasn’t so worried he’d be…no, maybe not jealous, but…
“He tasted your blood?” Angel stared intently at her neck, his mind ticking over fast while trying to think of anything they could do to help the vampire.
“Yeah, he seemed to recognise me enough to stop mauling me. To not kill me.”
Angel nodded, feeling slightly broken at the strained tenor of her voice. “Right, so we need to bring his mind back. Maybe a renewal of the claim?…”
“Wh.-what about your blood? Maybe he would recognise that, too?”
Angel’s chocolate brown eyes glistened with hope and a willingness to try anything. Without word he curled his hand around the neck of his Childe and pulled his fangs to his neck. A commanding growl broke from his throat and vibrated against the demon lips of Spike, encouraging him to taste.
Without warning the elongated teeth sunk into his cold flesh and -family-he pulled greedily on the blood. It tasted old, passionate and familiar with remnant traces of the blood he had taken earlier of the girl shape. Growls of rage and jealousy erupted from his throat as he pushed the brunette abruptly from him. Angry eyes fixed onto Buffy and he was upon her, ripping her clothes in a frenzy of desperation. She was his and he needed to reassert his rights immediately.
He turned his head and growled like an enraged tiger at the hulking shape trying to get closer. To prevent his movement.
Clothing tore from the female body as he held her down, not registering her struggles. His leg pressed over her own, forcing her to hold still on the floor, and he began shedding his own clothing in a violent passion. Angel could barely watch, tears flowing from his shattered face as Spike took his naked woman in front of him, plunging his teeth into her neck again as he plunged his engorged cock into her and succumbing to a pace that was punishing. Branding his property. For his Sire to acknowledge. Angel dipped his head in acceptance.
Buffy was screaming, almost chanting the name, “Spike…” but he took no notice, the word meaning nothing to him. Her voice had little impact against her blood, which with each lengthy pull enchanted his senses and brought him a little closer to home. He continued to thrust as she quieted, and he felt her arms around his back, holding him to her as she sobbed loudly, but willing in hope. Soon, his body slowed and his long strokes became loving, rather than brutal and he felt almost sorry for the way he had forced her. He kissed her softly, his psyche aching for the viciousness he had subjected her to.
His mind became lost—recognised nothing in a haze of blackness as he cried; he remembered nothing except for his home, and now he had hurt her. He whimpered in apology against her bloody throat, aware enough to withdraw his fangs as soon as the rhythm of her heart had changed. Her legs had drawn up around him and she held him tightly against her, whispering sounds against his ear that sounded sweet, knowing, loving. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, the solo pierce of a fang unintentional and withdrew at her small start of pain. Licking away the damage, he sunk into the bliss of his eventual arrival, and filled her with his seed. With an urgent knowledge just one word came to him, and he uttered it in relief.
“Love,” his voice whispered as he collapsed against her.
All was silent as watery tears and silence filled the room.
Buffy hit the floor in shock, not knowing or doing anything to prevent the forceful removal of her clothes. Her head was knocked to the side in the rush and she caught sight of a devastated Angel sitting back allowing Spike to rape her. ‘No,’ her mind objected. Though afraid, some part of her knew that this primal element of Spike was just being territorial. Too late did she make the connection that he might taste her essence within Angel’s blood, and react badly to it. Though the force conjured up ugly memories she remained still and allowed the possession to take place, still hoping that maybe this was what they needed to bring him back.
Screaming his name earlier had meant nothing to the out of control vampire, so she just held him, willing him to remember her, and to love her. She felt humiliated that Angel was watching her like this, but she had the feeling that human rules had flown out the window the second Spike had allowed his fangs to penetrate the skin of his Sire.
For one brief moment she had thought it was going to work. Spike’s eyes had lit with some recognition, probably knowing family, but then he had sensed something and dove at her, almost knocking her senseless in his rush to mount her.
She felt like a victim, and shuddered; giving in. But then his pounding had turned almost gentle in time with the rhythmic gulping of her blood. A tide was turned as he consumed her and she gasped feeling his tears run onto her skin. He sobbed against her and she couldn’t do anything but hold him to her, her love overriding misery in that small fraction of time.
Almost against her will she came, her body electrified and pulsing with possessive satiation. Her man, her vampire could do this to her, whether he was soulful or animal, he cared enough to hold her, to know her, and to please her. His pain broke her heart; he was the lost little boy they were struggling to find. Almost unaware now she was caught by a single piercing pain at her breast and she called out unknowing, and smiled sadly as he licked the blood from the tiny wound. She told him everything, how she loved him and was desperate for him to be back with her, whole. Her voice was soft as she stroked the muscular planes of his back, licking the shell of his ear.
She cried out once in relief as she felt him surge within her and then the wet rush of his fluid as it was released, bathing the insides of her canal. Her legs held him tight to her and her heart almost stopped when he uttered just one word.
“Love.”
And she sobbed around him with hope.
Angel could hear the trembling breaths of shock and acceptance fall from Buffy’s lips, and he hung his head ashamed.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, his throat raw with grief. “I should have guessed he would taste you. He’s not himself, Buffy.” He raised his eyes to meet hers in a clash of wary discomfort. “Don’t blame him for what he did. He was just being a vampirenot allowing anyone else to touch his mate. He felt he needed to remind you.”
His eyes remained fixed on her, caressing her wet, devastated face in gentle glides as he controlled his fierce desire to let his gaze wander over her exposed flesh. Quiet but angry growls warned him of how aware Spike would be of his motives and he pulled himself up from the floor and turned away. As he lifted his hand to turn the doorknob, Buffy called out and he stopped. His hand was suspended in the air as he kept his hungry eyes fixed on the wood panel in front of him, but waited for her to speak.
“I-I can’t stay like this. Giles, or one of the others could come in, and they wouldn’t understand. Can you cover us with a blanket, and then maybe go to my dorm room and get Willow to give you some clothes? J-Just tell her I need them for tomorrow. Please don’t tell her what h-happened here.”
Still not letting himself glance at her he went to the fold out bed and grabbed a blanket resting on the seat, quickly draping it over the entwined pair before making his exit.
The door clicked closed behind him and he slumped against it. He had never felt such an overwhelming sense of loss in his unlife, and he felt eager for the cold night air to wash some of his despair away.
The walk to Buffy’s dorm allowed him distance and time to recuperate. He was afraid; afraid of the consequences his quick offering had caused. He had never felt so torn in half; his demon and demon law on one side challenging his humanity and soul on the other. He knew that Buffy had been more than shocked to have a fully enraged and primitive vampire jump her, and he didn’t think that she understood all the implications of the act. For all he knew she might interpret Spike’s frenzied attempts to reassert his power through possessionin love with the hateful human act of rape. Her eyes had reflected an acceptance that almost drove him to stake himself.
That the woman he loved had to accept the overpowering advance of an out of control vampire was something he always thought he would be able to protect her from. The past few weeks had brought home a number of truths that he wished he could ignore. That he would never be hers again was the most savage cut. That he no longer had the right to protect her, or even to touch her again made him rage inside. That in his most basic condition, Spike’s demon still protected and claimed her. He had seen the glow of ownership in the amber glint of Spike’s demonic eyes as he had pushed her to the floor, whipped her clothes away from her flesh and thrust violently inside her.
His own demon had risen eagerly within him, wanting to push his silly Childe aside and punish him for thinking he had the right to claim such a power as the Slayer. He had felt no sense of possession or feeling of having his own toy stripped from him. Just a small challenge as the head of the family. He may have taken her innocence at one time, but he had never laid claim to her only wanting to inflict hurt not burden himself with her presence. It was Angel who had left his mark upon her neck, but again it was no claim of forever. The demon in Spike had adhered formally to the rules, and Angel was left to submit to his right. The right to show all that he was the Slayer’s mate and no one could ever taste her again.
He felt slightly alarmed at the unusual quiet of the night and wondered at the absence of all things supernatural. Well, other things supernatural. Then he saw a military group trying to be stealthy and his jaw flexed in fury. He melted into the shadows of a building and let them pass, smelling the three that had earlier been at Giles’s flat. He wanted to jump out and tear them apart, his soul funnily enough screaming for bloody vengeance. For William. It was his demon that allowed them to continue unharmed, for Angelus would rather plot pain than bestow it too quickly.
He continued on until he entered the right building and made his way to Buffy’s dorm room. He could hear quiet chatter on the other side of the door, and quickly tried to control his face as his demon still fought for control. He was furious to his very bones, confusion something he couldn’t cope with right now. His fist banged on the flat wood and he stayed on the other side of the threshold once Willow had opened the door.
“No invites, Willow.”
She raised suddenly terrified eyes to his and took a step back from the door.
“Just here to pick up some clothes for Buffy. Can you get some stuff together for her and I’ll take it back over to Giles’s?”
She nodded and quickly took to the task, stuffing toiletries and clothing into a small bag, pausing before a draw before grabbing a stake and shoving it in there as well. She placed the bag on the floor then pushed it outside with her foot. Angel grimaced but nodded in acceptance, strangely serene that she had accepted his subtle warning. With a tired lift of his hand, he indicated his departure and he was gone.
For a long time Buffy remained on the floor, her body weighed down by the continued lethargic presence of Spike. She had felt the exact moment when all his rage had drained away and he had tried to console her with affectionate licks to her mark. She caught her breath as she felt him swell again within her, a small part of her rebelling at the act. Mentally she knew what had just happened, and accepted it. She had taken a vampire as her lover and could hardly object when his nature jockeyed for playtime. If she was to blame anyone for causing her to feel used at this moment, it was Professor Walsh for creating something she had no power over. While his head was hidden against her throat, she marvelled at how disassociated she became from the reality. In her mind she played the bathroom reel, and knowing that even back then it was the desperate vampire trying to make her understand his pain, she found it almost impossible to accept what had happened.
Then he raised his head and for the first time since Riley had returned him to her she looked into blue eyes glowing with love. His fear was unmasked, and her heart shrivelled a little in reaction to what he must also face once he was back to himself. His attempted rape had caused him to seek out his soul so he could treat her kindly, love her gently. This had been no attempt: he had reached fruition, and even though she would never think of what they had just shared as rape, she had a nasty feeling that souled Spike was going to have monumental problems with his actions.
She cupped his cheek and pulled his mouth down to hers, sipping desperately at his taste. Tears dripped from both their eyes as she held his cheek against hers, her lips rubbing against his, but mouths never opening.
Looking once again into his eyes, her heart exploded with truth and she vowed to do all that was possible to bring him back to her, whole.
“I love you,” she whispered, the volume of her voice almost obliterated from emotion.
“Love,” he told her huskily as his hips began to move, and the gentle glow of knowing that always flushed her body began to take over, and she knew she would forgive him everything.
Maggie Walsh squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. A flash of humiliation and pain passed over her face as she tried to cross her legs.
“Ah....hello?” Her call was ineffectual against the snoring man on the sofa, and she rolled her eyes in frustration.
“Um...you asleep over there! I need to go to the bathroom.” She remained unanswered. She was hardly surprised that her reasonably quiet voice had no impact through the snorting bull-horn of monotony that was Giles asleep. She was hesitant to get any louder thoughï? not wanting the Slayer to feel a need to investigate.
She had never really thought before about the movies and novels that talked of hostages being restrained for days on end, but now she could see how unrealistic those plots were. How was one able to cut oneself off when desperate to use the amenities?
Fortunately, it was at the moment when the sharp pain began to really become unbearable that the one identified as Angelus slammed back into the house. His rather noisy entrance jolted Giles awake and he garbled something about ‘ no tea, Mother,’ before he was back on his feet and contemplating the strange expression on the vampire’s face. He held the bag up in front of him, almost as an apology, and offered no explanation. Shortly following that confusing display, both males turned to the captive and wrinkled their noses in disgust.
Refusing to acknowledge their apathy toward her, she grabbed the opportunity for relief.
“I have to go to the bathroom, right now.” Her voice held onto her earlier arrogance of command, but Angel could sniff the fear that radiated from her.
“Unbelievable.” Giles exploded, his hands flung in the air. “Couldn’t you have bloody mentioned that before we put the binding spell on you?”
She quirked her brow and looked at him in surprise.
“I’m your hostage. I didn’t think you would be particularly interested in whether I was hungry, or needed to...ah...freshen up?”
Giles spluttered. “We’re not bloody barbarians.”
Then his eyes hardened and she knew that he had started thinking that she probably was. She really felt like she had ridden a fanbelt tonight, and the spinning journey hadn’t yet slowed down. She was still stunned and not a little miffed that her own boys had so callously given her up to these misfits, even if they seemed to have information that was beyond classified. She had no idea how this Slayer person could possibly know so much; and the Polgara demon...how did she know that? It was all a mystery that she would rather try to unravel once she had the chance to empty her bladder. She looked up to find the man called Giles flicking through a book and with a few biting words she felt a force that had held her bound begin to loosen and drop. Sighing in relief, she stood on wobbly legs and silently waited for direction to the bathroom.
“You have less than two minutes. There are bars on the window if you were thinking of trying to get away. Take longer and I will send Angel in to get you.”
She blanched in revulsion and took off at a quick walk, slamming the door behind her.
Giles and Angel were left looking uncomfortably at each other, not knowing what to say. Giles was eager to hear about their progress, and Angel was eager to keep it quiet.
“I-I, ah, fell asleep. How are things going in there?” Giles jerked his head in the direction of his study, and watched Angel for his reaction. His intent gaze picked up the flinch, but he put it down to earlier fury.
“I think we might be getting somewhere. But it’s slow. Probably best kept private for the moment.”
Giles nodded, then saw the bite marks rapidly healing on the vampires neck.
“Did you think he might recognise your blood?” He was nodding in approval. “So, how did that go, then?” Angel gulped and flinched again, and Giles’s Watcher curiosity surged.
“It’s rough. He’s a vampire, Giles. Tasting my blood? Not the best idea I’ve ever had. But don’t go quizzing Buffy on it, okay? This is really hard for her.”
Without waiting to watch the dawning comprehension and horror on Giles’s face, he marched down the corridor, gave the bathroom door a loud pounding before turning to continue to the study and firmly locking the door behind him. Maggie Walsh exploded from the room as if the hounds of hell had erupted form the toilet bowl to drag her home, and found her seat on the hard chair once again. Momentarily distracted by Angel’s words, Giles hesitated slightly before muttering the incantation that would restrain her to the spot, refraining from reusing the ropes. He was not that eager to be so close to her again. She turned his stomach.
As he thought over the clues that Angel had dropped, he felt his body squeeze in upon itself. He had been warned of Spike’s vampiric nature, and the tasting of Angel’s blood. Flashes of Buffy in the hospital after almost being drained by the dark-haired vampire the previous year crowded his mind, and he grabbed the glasses from his face.
“Oh dear God,” he mumbled fatalistically, but then he stopped as he remembered. Another clue. Angel had left the blond pair together and alone, so Spike musn’t have drained the Slayer. So what could he mean? His refusal to accept the sexual nature of these teens in his charge made it more difficult for him to contemplate what Angel had implicitly been suggesting. Spike had tasted Buffy in Angel’s blood.
“Oh dear God,” he repeated as the glasses fell silently to the floor.
‘He reasserted the Claim. As a vampire”.
Giles was suitably horrified. He could feel his blood pressure rising with this unnerving idea and he sat boldly still, trying to calm Ripper who was thrashing within him to go and slay.
He hadn’t heard her scream, hadn’t heard a bloody sound. Because he’d been asleep, thinking they could handle it. Good Lord!
He jumped to his feet and commenced pacing, each length going further down the hallway toward the study before swinging back. About the sixth time he got closer to the door and startled when it swung open and a black figure loomed ahead of him, before determinedly clicking it shut again. Angel stood steady, waiting until they heard the lock turn on the inside before he grabbing Giles’s arm in a punishing hold, dragging him back to the safety of the living room.
“You figured it out then, did you?” Angel’s face was hard, resigned and another point pushed its way into his understanding.
“You watched it happen.” He snapped his arm away. “You bastard!”
“You don’t understand vampire customs, Giles. It would be cruel to punish him for something he had no control over. You wanna punish anyone, then have a go at this old hag.”
Giles deflated in acceptance, understanding it was a feeling that was becoming widelyï? wellï? accepted tonight. So much intrusion on their relatively safe lives. Tonight in particular had blown their assumptions and judgements all to hell.
“She understands it, Giles. He didn’t hurt her. Just scared her for a little while.”
“So she isn’t scared now, then?” Giles looked at the brunette in disbelief.
“Surprisingly, no. I can’t get over how deep her love for him is. In weeks. How the hell did he pull that off?” Angel rubbed his hand over weary, watery eyes as he looked to the Watcher for an explanation. “I mean, the Powers rewarded him, right? With a soul! How could Buffy fall for that straight away? I mean, she got cozy with him the night she found him. What the hell is that?”
For the first time, Giles paid attention to the vampire’s misery, and felt a stab of pity. For a moment. Truth be told, he thought Spike was by far the more deserving vampire for his Slayer. It was easy to label good because of a soul, but no one ever seemed to commend the overturning of nature itself to choose the better. Angel was forcefully encumbered with his soul. Without even thinking about it, Giles knew that no chip could have influenced Angelus to turn to the Scoobies for help. When Spike was back to his vibrant self, he must quiz him about his minions and why he didn’t force them to help him.
Shaking himself from the unfavourable ruminations, he reflected quickly on Angel’s questions.
“To tell you the truth, I think a little of the future Spike’s essence came with the soul, and it touched her. Rather simple, really. Well, unless it appalls you. But strangely, they seem quite acceptable together. When you make the effort, he isï? ratherï? likeable I suppose.”
A loud snort from across the room got both their attention, and they were drawn to their other problem.
“What’s her deal?” Angel’s voice was dangerously lacking in emotion, and that alone had Giles fighting goosebumps on his skin.
“She’s the one that put our little jigsaw Frankenstein together. She had Spike kidnapped and did whatever she did to him. We had originally planned on trying to convince her to destroy her pet project, Adam. However, I have a nasty feeling that she won’t be cooperative.”
Angel’s eyes narrowed as he dropped to his haunches, bringing himself into eye level with the magically restrained woman. Then his face broke into the most evil smile she had ever seen. Angel displayed his demon unhindered, no longer able to control the release as his enhanced senses picked up the distinct smell of blood from up the hall, as well as the tiny whimpers of pleasure coming from the one girl he couldn’t stand to hear it from. He knew that the claim process would consist of continual sexual joinings throughout the night, and the only thing that was saving his sanity was the hope that Spike would prevail and that each time he reached climax it would encourage him back to the present. His demon eyes, however, reflected none of that gentility of thought and he felt pleasure course through his body at the growing waft of fear from right in front of him.
“I think she’ll be cooperative. In fact, I think if we take her to her little demon soldier boy right this minute, she’ll help us decapitate him... or be decapitated herself. How about it, Giles? Feel like a little trip to the Initiative?”
For one small second, Professor Walsh felt relieved that she would be free. Then she thought of her son, Adam, and though she was more than a little on edge that these people predicted a future for her experiment not quite on the plans, she knew that it was at a close. As skeptical as they may be, she didn’t actually want the death of children on her hands. Or humans at all, if she could help it. So she nodded her head in resignation.
“I will take you there and you can do what you like. Just let me go afterwards?”
With a look of agreement, Angel waited for the barrier to release her, then took her in a grip that he intended to hurt. In the uncertain darkness of night, Giles and Angel headed to Initiative headquarters to rid themselves of a potential problem, and save Buffy from further torment.
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