Welcome to the Jungle by Niamh

Third

Author's Notes: Okay, so this is sort of moving forward. I’m not entirely sure this is the way I intended it to go, but this is what the characters are calling for. So who am I to argue? *shakes head* I’m just the poor writer. I’ve gone back to a band I’ve quoted from before – and this one just seemed so appropriate. Anyway, the song is from Arcadia, a little side project from some of the members of Duran Duran – title is Lady Ice. Disclaimers in full force and effect.

Lady Ice slips into her soul
Lady Ice leaves a house so cold
Lady Ice did you know
That the world was lonely too
Drifting snows
Searching plains and high
Turning stones as she looks
For the heart somebody stole
She knows the violation
In lovers arms without occasion
But who knows where to find
A true heart for Lady Ice
Mesmerized
In the candle flame
Compromised by the cruel bands
Of steel around her breasts
She knows the desolation
Of lover's arms their isolation
But who knows where to find
A true heart for Lady Ice
Lady's eyes slip away
To the part she plays in school
She knows of roles and hideaways
Suppose she knows but turns away
She knows where to find
A true heart for Lady Ice
Lady Ice
Step outside your soul
lady Ice do you know
That the world is frightened too

There were only a few people he trusted, beside his partners, and Nikki Wood was one of them. Retired from the job now, she’d been working a street detail the first time they’d met. He, lonely and missing his wife, Drusilla, had been walking through the Village and stumbled across Nikki, posing as a hooker.

In a moment they’d both laughed over later, each had tried arresting the other.

Their professional paths never crossed – he was too high profile – yet they never failed to back each other. They’d bonded over unfaithful spouses and for a while they’d been an item. But only for a while. Nikki wouldn’t commit and Will wasn’t entirely ready for an instant, inter-racial family. The spectacular sex hadn’t been enough to outweigh their friendship and when Nikki tried for the third time to reconcile with her husband, Will had stepped aside and wished them the best. And miraculously, that time, it had worked.

He always knew, though, if he needed her, she’d be there for him. He just hadn’t figured he’d need her for this.

Their escape sorted, Will needed a way to get the girl – Buffy? – down to the ER without arousing too much suspicion. Peeking his head out into the hallway, Will scoped out the quickest route to the elevator.

Her room was the furthest from the nurse’s station, right next to a connecting ward. Will opened the bulkhead door, almost laughing when he spied a service elevator twenty feet away. It would be easier if he had a wheelchair, but he wasn’t about to test his luck any further. Finding an empty, unwatched elevator was far important than having to carry the girl.

Knowing his window of opportunity would only last so long, Will grabbed her meager belongings and stuffed them into one of the duster’s interior pockets. The IV bag he unhooked and dropped onto her belly, rolling her slight form gently into the swathe of black leather. A wry smile crossed his features as she all but disappeared underneath the folds. While he had not a real expectation of going completely unnoticed, he fully expected no one to remember her.

He lifted her easily into his arms. Christ, she’s such a tiny thing.

The connecting door was still open and he only paused long enough to kick it closed. Thankfully the elevator ride was uneventful, making no stops save the one he wanted.

Twenty minutes later, he was holed up in an empty examining room in the ER, ears tuned for the disturbance he needed.

Nikki was as good as her word. Barely ten minutes went by and the noises of a ruckus reached him. Raised voices, indistinct and muffled, rang through the hallways; Will didn’t waste the opportunity Nikki had given him. Gathering up the still unconscious girl, he headed for the exit.

Walking boldly past where Nikki was arguing with both her daughters, Will stifled a laugh. The girls were playing it up, almost coming to blows, while Nikki played ‘peacemaker’.

An older model Ford with Jersey plates idled boldly in the only available ambulance spot. For a brief moment, he wondered why Nikki wanted him to ditch it, but he didn’t dwell on the thought for long. He needed to get his witness away from prying eyes and possible danger.

Taking her to his apartment would be too obvious, but taking her anywhere else wouldn’t work either. His appearance was far too memorable to go unnoticed for long. The color of his hair stood out and once he opened his mouth, any chance of hiding would be gone. He’d rather be on familiar ground. Nothing for it, have to take the chit home.

Shifting the car into reverse, Will backed out into mid-afternoon traffic.

He parked the car next to St. Mark’s Church, keys in plain sight. Once more he lifted the girl into his arms, this time carrying her easily across Second Avenue. Jose, the doorman, was busy signing for packages and didn’t see him head up to his sixth floor apartment.

For now, they were safe.

Will refused to speculate how long that might last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was still out cold when he laid her down on his bed. Somehow in all the jostling and movement, the IV line had been dislodged from the shunt. Luckily for them both, he’d remembered to shut down the IV drip before moving her, and he’d had just recently been recertified in his emergency medical training, so he at least knew how to reconnect the line. Hooking up the bag to something so that it would hang was more problematic. There was nothing in his bedroom, no freestanding lights, no lamps, no. . . Will looked up over his head and laughed.

The previous tenant must have used the bedroom for a different purpose, because up above were ceiling brackets, the kind that were mainly used for bicycles or other heavy objects. Ten minutes later, after balancing precariously on a chair he’d dragged in from the living area, he’d rigged the IV bag through a shower curtain hook and it was hanging from one of the brackets.

His witness hadn’t moved a muscle during the whole noisy operation, and he sat on the edge of his bed, watching her. Seen in the more natural light streaming through his east-facing window, Will could glimpse how young she really was. She’d lost none of her baby curves, her cheeks still rounded and soft despite the bruising and shadows around her eyes. Her roots and eyebrows were dark and he wondered, not for the first time, what her story was. Why she’d left home. Why she’d done her best to change her appearance. What made a fifteen – was she even fifteen? – year old girl leave the security of her home?

He had no idea how long he just sat and watched her, though the shadows on the building behind his were lengthening, indicating it was heading toward late afternoon. While he was once more focused on her, she stirred, muscles twitching and jerking while her body detoxified. They hadn’t catheterized her, probably because of the sexual assault, and he realized he was going to have to monitor her closely, so that she didn’t soil herself and his bed.

Will ran a tired hand over his face, wondering if he’d be better off putting her in the tub. Whimpers and then a guttural groan emerged from her, drawing his eyes. The shaking worsened, her body jumping and twitching and Will grabbed her hands before she could start to scratch herself.

He wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was the touch of his hands on hers, or the sound of his voice, but she shied away, finally opening her eyes. Mossy green shot with gold and terribly bloodshot, her eyes darted about, her fear easily communicated.

“Shhhhh, it’s all right, kitten. You’re safe. ‘M not gonna hurt you, promise.” Will kept his voice even and his hands gentle as he eased away from her a little. She settled down slowly, her eyes never straying from his. “I promise, not gonna hurt you.”

“Gonna throw up,” was the only thing she said before she did. Vomit, mostly bile, spewed from her, soiling the bed and his clothing. He didn’t flinch, having expected something like this to happen. She kept vomiting, her body curling up into a fetal position, legs drawn up to her mostly empty belly and fingers clenching his in a death-grip.

He waited her out, letting her get rid of as much before he tried moving her, though he never let go of her hands. It took a long time and yet no time at all before she stopped, her legs stretching out and her fingers easing their hold on his. Will let go of one, his hand brushing back sticky strands of hair from her face. “You okay now?”

The only answer she gave him was a whimper, which he took for acknowledgment and he waited five more minutes before speaking again.

“I’m gonna pick you up and we’re gonna head into the bath, okay? Need to get us both cleaned up.”

When she didn’t respond, he realized she’d fallen back into a state of unconsciousness. Shaking his head, Will stood up and assessed the damage. He couldn’t leave her alone, not with her body actively rejected all the toxins she’d ingested and her slipping back into unconsciousness. He needed to get them both clean and to get the linens off the bed.

Working quickly and efficiently, he stripped the sheets and pillowcases. Figuring since the bag was almost empty and he had no other way of getting more, Will disconnected the IV line from her arm. Removing the shunt would have to wait, at least until they were both clean. That was the priority, since neither was smelling sweet.

Deciding it would be easier to just lift her and the dirty sheets, Will scooped everything up and nearly laughed at the sight. She looked like nothing more than an over-sized baby, curled up and sleeping in daddy’s arms. He sobered quickly, though, realizing the reality was something altogether darker and different.

Keeping up an inane litany of his actions, he walked the few steps from his bed to the bathroom, weighing his options. They had to wash and he couldn’t leave her alone. While she was obviously working the streets, the last thing he needed was for a hint of impropriety to appear in his investigation. Will knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, springing her from the hospital to hide out in his apartment without another person, but he thought it would be safer for her.

If it was an inside job and one of Reilly’s own men had whacked him, then the girl’s cover was already blown. His only hope lay in the fact that whoever had murdered Angelus had also drugged the girl and thought she’d died of an overdose. It was his only advantage. Keeping her alive and safe was his priority.

There was nothing for it. He’d have to get in and shower with her. Will sighed and laid her down in the tub, pulling away the soiled linens and her hospital gown. She looked even tinier without clothes, though she was nicely shaped. Nicely shaped was an understatement. Despite the marring of bruises and cuts, there was a delicate lushness about her body that sent a flash of heated desire through him. Spike caught his breath, trying very hard to keep his libido under control. She’s a mite young, not t’mention she’s a witness, you blighter. Hands off . . .

Which was easier to think than it was to do. He had to wash them both, since her vomit covered nearly everything, including his boots. Stripping out of his clothes, he grimaced at the smell. Steeling himself to ignore his attraction to her, Spike turned on the shower, angling the spray away from her face. Grumbling to himself about towels, he padded back into his bedroom and grabbed a couple of oversized towels.

In the short time he’d been away from the bathroom, she’d moved. Her body was curled up, her cheek resting on the side of the tub, her legs tucked up against her belly. She whimpered and he could see the telltale track of moisture leaking from her eyes.

“Cold,” was all she said, and he saw the goosebumps and tremors working their way through her body. A particularly harsh tremble ripped through her and she choked, which galvanized him to movement. Instantly, she was up in his arms, her head bent over as once more her stomach rejected its contents.

Vomit splattered against the dark green tile lining his bathroom walls. Spike held her against him, his arm around her convulsing belly, and his other hand holding her hair back away from her face. He never stopped talking, letting his words drown out the sound of her retching, all the while hoping his voice would help soothe her. Wasn’t hard to figure out she was scared and hurting, he could feel the trembling rushing through her muscles, could almost smell the scent of fear clinging to her.

She was barely coherent, but as suddenly as it started, the vomiting was over. He held her still, letting the vomit wash down the drain before he attempted to clean them both. Her body started shaking harder and her nails raked across the arm around her belly.

“No. . . no. Don’t touch me.” The words were little more than garbled whimpers, though he heard her clearly. “Please, don’t.”

“It’s all right, ‘m not gonna hurt you, kitten. Jus’ calm down. You’re safe, you’re safe.” Spike kept repeating that last bit, until the words no longer made any sense. She fought him for a while, longer than he expected her to, but in the end, her strength gave out and she clung to him. Great heaving sobs wracked her and she groaned, curling into his hold. “You’re safe, kitten, safe.”

She was calm enough for him to release her. Will let her sit under the shower spray, huddled in on herself and weeping softly. There was nothing more he could really do for her, just get her clean and keep her safe, not until she was a bit more together.

If Gunn and Lawson were right and this girl was Buffy Summers, she hadn’t been on the streets all that long. Six months or so. There was still a chance she could get help, turn her life around and do something instead of turning tricks.

Forcing himself to the reality instead of dreams of saving the girl from herself, Will grabbed the shampoo and dumped some on her bowed head. She flinched and he cursed himself for being a fool. “Relax, sweetheart, it’s just shampoo. Gonna help you get clean an’ then we can get you dry and warm. How’s that sound?”

Not really expecting an answer or her help, Spike was surprised when she spoke.

“Why?”

He knelt down behind her, running his fingers through the slippery strands of her hair. “Warm and dry? Or help you?”

“Help.” Her voice was raspy, and he had a feeling it was as much from screaming as it was from the aftermath of the drugs.

A sigh rippled from him, and Will gave her question the consideration it deserved. Why indeed? “Coz, kitten, I think you could use it.”

His honesty must have been enough, because her hands unclenched and she relaxed, going almost boneless. “I’m scared.”

“I know, kitten.” No sense lying to her. Even if she had vague, drug-addled memories of the night before, she had to remember some of it. And he knew something like that – rape and murder – stuck with a person, no matter what the conditions. “Gonna do m’best to keep you safe.”

They lapsed into silence, the only sound the patter of water on bare skin.

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