Victims of Fate by ya_lublyu_tebya

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Chapter 6: Jealousy

Things continued unchanged for several days: she tended to the broken vampire as best she could, hoping one day he would snap out his crazed state. He hadn’t improved much though- sure, there were no more suicide attempts, but he didn’t seem any more lucid than before. Occasionally he would look at her like he recognised her, but it was usually so fleeting a moment that she often thought maybe it was just wishful thinking on her part. She slept little, waking in the night either from her own nightmares or his. He was getting thinner too with the lack of blood and try as she might, he refused to feed and it was getting her more and more worried.

Added to all that, Angel had been acting strangely around her over the last few days. He had moved out to an apartment two days ago but would reappear every evening as soon as the sun set and check on her. Because that was what he was doing, she realised – checking on her, not on his grandchilde. In fact, despite his promises, he had hardly been near Spike in days now and rarely made any suggestion as to how she could help the other vampire.

It was weighing heavily on her, this burden, and she was almost tempted to enlist help. Except the Scoobies were still not quite understanding of the whole helping-a-vampire thing. They had, however, discovered the slight glitch in the spell that had cursed Spike along with Angel.


“So, basically, you said the wrong word?” Buffy had said to Willow, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“It was a very complicated spell,” Giles explained, “And it had been cross-translated several times since the original. When we translated it into Latin for our uses, it seems the word ‘vampire’ was transcribed as ‘male vampires’, in the masculine plural instead of the singular.”

She had struggled to decode Giles’ explanation but finally thought she understood.

“So that’s why Drusilla wasn’t affected? It was only male vampires in the vicinity.”

“Quite.”

“Great. Well, err, that… doesn’t really help at all.”

She sighed and with a bitter laugh, pushed herself to her feet.

“I should get back. I don’t like leaving him alone for long.”

“Buffy,” Giles started softly, “Don’t you think you’re taking too much upon yourself? It’s not your duty to look after him, you know.”

“I know, but I… I have to do it, Giles.”

He went to speak again but she cut him off.

“Thanks for getting me some clothes,” she said, smiling at the plain but functional clothes her Watcher had bought her.



Even though she had convinced Giles that she felt bound to help the vampire, it was an exhausting task, emotionally more than anything. She couldn’t even count how many times she had burst into tears over the last week, overcome by tiredness, by pity, by sadness. Despite his strange behaviour – which she attributed to guilt – she was glad of Angel’s visits as it was the only time in the day that she could talk to a sane, lucid person. She hadn’t realised just how much it could affect her, not having contact with anyone but the crazed vampire.

That night, Angel brought blood with him and when she raised an eyebrow in question, he explained that much longer without blood and Spike would be in serious trouble. They went up to the room together and she couldn’t help reeling at the awful smell it emitted: a result of a week of unwashed Spike and already dirty bed linen. She would have to do something about both of those problems at some point. With Angel carrying the blood behind her, she approached Spike carefully, still wary despite the fact that any violence left in him had disappeared with his waning strength.

“You need to eat, William,” she whispered, resting her hand on his shoulder as she knelt beside him.

He still tensed with her touch but over the last few days they had developed a tentative bond and she liked to think he trusted her.



As soon as Angel got close though, he lashed out, going into game face and crying out.

“Sp- William!” she got out, struggling to hold him still, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“No, don’t make me. He’ll make me… so wrong and bad… bad bad William… can’t be a proper vampire…”

When she looked up at Angel, his face was twisted with pain and guilt and she didn’t even want to think about what memory Spike’s words had provoked.

“William, it’s okay,” she whispered again, stroking her hand over his hair gently.

“Can’t do it. No!”

“It’s okay. Shhh.”

She reached out and took the bag of blood from Angel and pleaded him silently to retreat. He moved back to the door, watching them both with a frown. She turned back to Spike and stroked her hand over his messy hair again.

“Please feed, William. Please.”

She held out the bag in front of him and much to her surprise, he vamped out instantly, snatching the bag from her hand and tearing into it in a frenzy. She couldn’t imagine how hungry he had been this last week to attack the bag so desperately, draining its contents in a few short seconds. She took the mangled container from him gently and squeezed his shoulder softly.

“Isn’t that better?”

She threaded her fingers in his hair, working absentmindedly at the knots, and was surprised when he let out what almost sounded like a purr. She smiled and removed her hand.

“Now I just need to get you clean,” she murmured half to herself.

“Dirty dirty… need to get clean… need to get the bad out.”

“Something like that,” she replied absentmindedly, getting to her feet and smiling to herself. There was definitely something wrong if she was having conversations with a madman.



She shut the door behind the vampire quietly and gave Angel a wry smile as she twisted the container in her hand.

“Well, I think he was hungry.”

Angel was silent, dark eyes focussing on the wall behind her. She took a step towards him and reached out to touch his arm.

“Angel?” she asked with a frown.

“You don’t have to keep touching him, you know!” he blurted out, and she was astounded to see his eyes flash yellow as he turned to her.

“What?” she whispered in astonishment.

“You’re always touching him. You’re getting too close, Buffy.”

She was absolutely stunned. He was actually giving her the jealous crap because she wanted to make Spike feel a tiny bit better! Because she stroked his hair and tried to comfort him! She turned back to Angel and her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms.

“I can’t believe you!” she exclaimed, “You know what he’s going through. Don’t you think any comfort he can get is a good thing?!”

“Is that all you’re giving him, Buffy?!” he retorted and seemed to regret it instantly.

She was too angry to care though and she clenched her jaw.

“Unless you think he’s going to get a moment of perfect happiness from having his hand held, this conversation is over.”

Angel regarded her in shock for a long moment, before turning on his heel and striding away down the corridor, not looking back once. She almost wanted to laugh at the insanity of it. She brushed a hand over her hair and with a little shake of her head, went along to the bathroom.



She returned to Spike a few minutes later with a bowl of water and some cloths. He hadn’t moved from his usual spot in the furthest corner and she went over to him with a smile.

“Looks like it’s just us again,” she said to the vampire, not expecting any reply as she placed the bowl down on a side table, “Oh no, maybe we’ll get up to something naughty and make Angel even more jealous.”

She sighed, smiling bitterly at the same time. She wet one of the cloths and turned back to Spike, kneeling beside him as she reached out and gently pressed the wet cloth against his neck.

“I’m just going to get you cleaned up. No offence, but you smell.”

He said nothing in reply and was unusually quiet as she cleaned his face and neck, stroking the cloth over him gently.

“Guess I should really clean your arms and stuff,” she murmured to herself, looking down at the vampire’s dirty clothes – the same ones he had been wearing all week - with a frown, “And get you some new clothes.”

He said nothing but she was glad when he did not resist as she gently peeled off his red button-down and threw it in the far corner. She turned back to him then and regarded his black T-shirt, before giving a sigh.

“Okay, Buffy, you want to play nursemaid, get over it,” she whispered to herself, grabbing the sides of his T-shirt and pulling it over his head before he could protest or try to stop her.



Her embarrassment at him being half-naked was soon forgotten as she caught sight of his chest and she gasped, hand coming to her mouth in horror at the deep cuts over his chest.

“What have you done?!” she whispered in horror.

“Tried to cut it out. It hurts,” he murmured, hands twisting in his hair as he bowed his head, “Cut it out… take it away.”

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, fighting her tears, she turned to him and tried to ignore the fact that he had hurt himself so badly as she went about cleaning him, sweeping the cloth over his torso as quickly as she could.

“Yeah, this is real sexy,” she murmured tearfully, “No wonder he’s jealous.”

She cleaned him up as best she could and then her eyes fell to his jeans and she grimaced.

Finally, she took a deep breath and embarrassedly went to work on his zip.

“All in the name of hygiene,” she muttered, eyes averted embarrassedly from her task. As soon as she discovered he wasn’t wearing anything underneath though, she snatched her hands back and shook her head slightly.

“Uh-huh, no way. Hygiene be damned,” she exclaimed, throwing the dirty cloth in the bowl and sitting back on her heels to examine her work. Well, he looked a bit better at least. She stood and began rifling through the drawers of the room, finding numerous dresses – Drusilla’s no doubt – but finally finding a drawer of shirts and tops, all predictably black and red, with few exceptions. She grabbed a dark grey shirt and returned to the vampire.

“New clothes and everything,” she said with a smile, crouching in front of him and coaxing him into the shirt.

“There, all better,” she declared with a nod, passing a hand over his hair.

She smiled sadly and gathered up the things, brushing a hand over her tired eyes.

“I’ll be back,” she said quietly and turned to the door, bowl in hand.



“Why are you helping me, Slayer?”

She jumped at his quiet voice, almost spilling the bowl of water, and turned around quickly. Spike was looking up at her, his blue eyes fixed on hers for longer than they had been in days.

“Sp- Spike?”

“Why are you helping me?” he repeated weakly.

She turned her back on him as she tried to come to terms with a suddenly lucid Spike. It must have been the blood, she mused, making him stronger and a little more lucid. At least she hadn’t known that when she had been stripping him.

“I have to,” she whispered, turning back to him and meeting his gaze for a moment before turning back to the door, “You… you should rest.”

She opened the door but his weak voice halted her again.

“Thank you.”

She could feel the tears welling up and could only nod in reply, quickly leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. She sank to the floor, wiping at her eyes and choking on her tears.

“Buffy?”

Her head snapped up and her eyes went wide when she saw the figure lingering just down the hall, watching her with concern.

“Mom?!”

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