Summary: Sequel to Hoping's Very Fears. Spike and Buffy are trying to decide what their relationship is going to look like. Buffy and Dawn are missing Joyce terribly. And the warlock comes back to town, looking for another pound of flesh.
Author's Notes: This story is the sequel to "Hoping's Very Fears." If you haven't read that one, I'd strongly recommend you do so. Otherwise, it probably won't make any sense. Set in the summer right after BtVS S5. (My Season 5 that is.)
Rating: PG-13
Spike was on his third cigarette when the sun began to rise, sending thin threads of light into the morning sky. He was dangerously close to brooding, and he knew it, but he really didn't care. He liked Tara—really, genuinely liked the witch. Like Joyce, she had always been kind, and he hated to think that she was hurting because of him.
"Spike?" He turned to see Willow looking at him in concern. "Shouldn't you come in?" she asked, looking pointedly at the lightening sky.
The vampire took one last drag on his cigarette, and tossed it on the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. "Yeah. Guess I should."
She grabbed his arm as he passed her to go inside. "It's not your fault."
"She wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me," Spike replied, his tone angry.
"Tara wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that warlock," Willow corrected him. "And if you hadn't stopped him from performing that ritual, we might not have been able to take him later on."
Spike shook his head, unwilling to grant himself absolution, not when such a lovely girl as Tara lay in a hospital bed. Willow squeezed his arm to catch his attention again. "She's going to be okay, Spike."
He nodded, and followed her inside. Dawn came up to him immediately, wrapping her arms around his chest. Almost involuntarily, Spike returned her embrace. He met Buffy's eyes, and she smiled at him reassuringly. Just then, the doctor came out into the waiting room. The older man glanced around, looking at the motley assortment of people, all waiting for word on Tara McClay.
"Willow Rosenberg?" Willow stepped forward, looking worried. "Your friend is awake and asking for you," he said, smiling. "It looks like she's going to be just fine."
They all breathed sighs of relief as the doctor led the red-headed witch back to Tara's room. Buffy came over to stand next to Spike and her sister, thinking of her own relief not that long ago, knowing that Spike was going to be just fine after being poisoned with the demon venom.
She reached over and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "It's not your fault," she said quietly, knowing that Willow had already told him the same thing.
Spike shook his head, again not quite accepting the softly spoken words as truth. He felt—maybe not quite guilty, but certainly responsible. He was the one who had upset the sorcerer's plans, the one who was the real target. Willow and Tara were innocent bystanders who had tried to help him; they hadn't deserved to get caught in the cross-fire.
Buffy gently tugged on his hand, encouraging him to follow her over to the chairs. "Come on. We're going to wait for Willow to let us know what's going on, and then we're going to go home and sleep."
"Think it would be better for me to go to my own place," Spike replied.
Buffy looked concerned, but then apparently decided that she would let him make the call. "If that's what you want."
Willow came out a few minutes later, smiling. "Tara's fine. A little sore, but she's going to be okay." She looked over at Spike. "She wants to see you."
Spike looked startled, but then quickly stood. He felt a strange mixture of eagerness and reluctance: eager to see for himself that she was fine, reluctant to see the damage wrought. He knocked gently before entering. Tara was wearing a hospital gown, and had an IV line running to her hand, dripping its medication steadily. "Hey."
"Hi, Spike," she replied. "Sit." She motioned with her free hand to the side of the bed, and after a moment's hesitation, he followed her lead. "It's not your fault."
Spike wouldn't look at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bandages covering one of her forearms, and another bandage ran across her collarbone and under her gown. There was a darkening bruise across one cheek, and a scratch ran across her chin. "Spike." Her voice was gentle, but terribly insistent.
"'m sorry, Glinda," he murmured. Spike finally met her eyes, but there was the shadow of guilt there, maybe shame.
Tara shook her head. "It's not your fault." When he would have spoken, she interrupted him. "It's not. You didn't do anything wrong."
"No, but—" He sighed. "Can't help but feel it's my fault, luv. Warlock wouldn't have come after the two of you, if he wasn't after me."
Tara smiled gently. "And the world might not be here today if you hadn't stopped the ritual from taking place. You did a good thing, Spike."
"Right, real good thing." Spike sighed and reached over to brush a piece of hair out of Tara's face. "You should probably get some rest, Glinda. Red'll turn me into a toad 'f I tire you out."
"Not a toad," Tara teased. "More like a big, fluffy puppy."
He glared at her. "Hey! No use turnin' me into somethin' I am already."
They both shared a smile. "You're not fluffy." Tara patted his hand. "You're more like a well-trained Rottweiler."
"Thanks, luv. That's real kind of you to say." There was a small sound behind them, and they both looked to see Willow in the doorway. "I should go."
"Buffy's going to take Dawn home," Willow said quietly. "She wanted to know if you wanted to come home with her, Spike."
He shook his head. "I'll take the sewers to my house."
"Okay," Willow said cheefully. "Have a good sleep."
"Sure thing," Spike replied. But he wasn't planning on getting any sleep. The warlock had hurt one of his friends, he had attacked his girlfriend, and he'd about driven him 'round the bloody bend. He was ready to end this. Now.
~~~~~
Buffy went home and showered before collapsing into bed. She was exhausted, both by her and Spike's evening activities as well as the emotional maelstrom of waiting in a hospital for news of Tara.
She and Dawn both slept well into the afternoon. It was nearing sunset when Willow showed up, looking distinctly cheery. "Tara pretty much made me leave," she explained. "The doctor wants to keep her there overnight, but he said she could come home tomorrow."
"That's great, Will," Buffy replied warmly. "I'm glad Tara's going to be okay. I've been thinking about it, though, and I think we need to make an assault on this warlock. It was one thing when he was just sending demons our way to harrass us. Like that's anything new. But sending something after you two..."
Willow nodded. "I think it had something to do with the magic we did the other night, when we broke his link to Spike. He would have known it was us from our signatures. And if he was spying on Spike, it wouldn't have been that hard to find us."
"You're right," Buffy said. "Willow, what do we know about this warlock? How powerful is he? I mean, could you take him?"
Willow wrinkled her nose. "Actually, we pretty much don't know anything, but I think I could take him. We managed to break his link, but that was with the three of us. There was a lot more power." She frowned. "On the other hand..."
"On the other hand, what?" Buffy asked.
Willow shrugged. "I wasn't really even trying. It was kind of like taking a beginning computer class for me, you know? Piece of cake. If I had to, I think I'd be a match."
"But you can't be sure," Buffy finished, looking worried. She hated to think of getting in the middle of a battle and finding that out.
Willow smiled. "Well that depends. If I've got backup, it might be fine. You can't really concentrate on doing magic if you've got someone sending sharp, pointy objects your way."
"True," Buffy replied. "I think between me and Spike, we can keep him busy. And with Xander, and maybe even Giles, to help, we might be able to distract him enough to kill him."
Willow didn't look unhappy about that last suggestion, though she did remind Buffy, "He is human, Buffy. Granted, not much of one, but he's a person."
"He stopped being a person the minute he tried to open the Hellmouth, or whatever." Buffy replied. "I don't care what he is, but he's put himself outside the box."
Willow jerked, her head spinning around to face the front door. "Will? What is it?"
"Something's trying to come through the wards," Willow said, her eyes narrowing. Buffy blinked as the pupil seemed to swallow up the rest of her eye, making both look black. "It's not gonna happen." There was a scary depth to her voice that took Buffy aback, until her friend turned to look at her again, her eyes back to normal and a smug smile on her face. "He's not going to make it. He isn't strong enough."
Buffy smiled in response until another thought hit her. "What about Spike? If you're not there to boost the ward-thingies, will they last?"
"I don't know," Willow admitted. "Are you going to go check on him?"
The Slayer hesitated, and then shook her head. "Not right now. I need to call Giles and set up somewhere safe for Dawn. With any luck, Spike will get here pretty quick. He was supposed to come over tonight."
In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Willow grinned. "Oh, yeah? Spill, Buff. Is it good?"
Buffy's smile was both astonishingly content and mysterious at the same time. "You have no idea."
~~~~~
Lyndon hadn't thought it would be quite this easy to get his hands on Spike again. The wards that the witches had put up were strong, but they couldn't protect the vampire while he was outside their influence. The idiot had actually come looking for him, thinking he could hurt him—Lyndon. It was utterly ridiculous.
Of course, the warlock was really okay with that.
With the vampire out of the way, it would be much easier to kill the Slayer and her friends. He'd already tried breaking through the wards on the Slayer's house but had found it impossible to touch her. It didn't really matter, though The Slayer seemed to be quite attached to the nuisance. His demise would bring a satisfying amount of grief and anguish, distracting her, and allowing him to launch a surprise attack she would be ill-equipped to handle. Lyndon liked that plan.
He turned back to Spike, who hung by his wrists from the wall of the cave. The warlock had decided to move his headquarters to a less populated area of town. The Slayer wouldn't find out his location until he wanted her to, and he could take his time with his new toy.
Spike's face was bloody from the beating he'd gotten from the Fyarls Lyndon had hired. They had broken his nose, and one of his eyes had already swollen shut. Lyndon had given serious thought to recasting the Blood of the Victims' curse on the vampire, but had decided that it was an old trick, and he never used the same curse twice on the same person.
Instead, he'd chosen a different hex, one that called up the deepest, darkest fears in a person's psyche. Spike was lost—and would stay lost—in his nightmares. The best thing about this particular curse was that it was tied to the person's own mind, and nothing else. Unless the vampire could break himself out of it, he'd be trapped inside his head forever. Or until Lyndon turned him into dust.
With a flick of his wrist, the warlock tore open Spike's shirt and reopened the scars on his chest, causing the blood to come pouring out. Whether because of the pain, or because of what he was seeing, Spike screamed aloud.
Lyndon smiled. It was music to his ears.
~~~~~
"Spike?" Buffy called, entering the front door of his house. "You here?" She reached over and flipped the switch a couple times, with no result.
"Uh, Buffy?" Willow said. "I don't think Spike has electricity."
Buffy shook her head absently. "He tapped into a line. The lights were working last night."
"Good thing I didn't know about that, then," Willow said quietly, pulling out a flashlight. A second beam joined hers from Xander's light.
"And I'll join those who didn't know about Spike's pilfering abilities," Xander said.
Their lights caught a flash of white against the dark fabric of the couch. Buffy went over and picked up the sheet of paper, folded over in half. Borrowing Willow's flashlight for a moment, she skimmed the contents of the note.
Buffy—
Went to go find the bastard. It's time I end this.
Spike
"Dammit, Spike," Buffy hissed angrily. She couldn't believe his nerve. When he hadn't shown up an hour after sunset, Buffy had gotten worried, deciding that she should go look for him. They had already called Giles, who came over immediately after hearing that the wards on Buffy's house had been tested.
After a rather long discussion, they had decided that Tara would be safe enough in the hospital, and with the wards up and Giles there, Dawn would be safe at the Summers' house. Buffy's Watcher was in agreement that the warlock needed to be stopped, and that until they could locate him, it would be better for all of them to stay in one place as much as possible.
Of course, that was assuming they could find Spike and get him home.
"Dammit," Buffy repeated. "Willow, is there any way to find Spike? If he went out by himself, that warlock could have gotten his hands on him already."
"I don't know, Buff," Xander said. "Surely Spike can take care of himself."
"Xander, the warlock's human. Spike wouldn't be able to defend himself," Willow reminded him.
Buffy winced. "Actually, Spike's chip doesn't work anymore."
"What?" Xander demanded. "His chip doesn't work? And you're just letting him roam around free?"
Buffy glared at him. "Spike has changed, Xander. He has a soul."
"And we all know how well that turned out last time," he replied.
Willow stepped between them, trying to warn him off with her eyes. "Xander, now's not the time."
"Then when?" Xander asked. "When he goes evil and tries to kill us? Again? Have you already forgotten that Spike was the one who kidnapped us and was planning on killing us?"
"That was a long time ago," Buffy protested. "And now that we have a warlock on the loose, trying to kill all of us, it's so not the issue."
"Then when we get done with all this, you're going to forget all about him?" Xander replied. "You'll finally figure out that vampires are for slaying, and dump the bleached evil undead?"
"I'm in love with him, Xander," Buffy said quietly, but forcefully. "There will be no dumping. Besides, he's changed."
"He's a vampire!" Xander protested.
Buffy stood up to him, nose to nose. "He's my vampire."
They seemed to be at a stalemate, since it wasn't likely that Xander was going to back off on his "I hate vampires" invective any time soon. "Xander, I'm not talking about Angel, or about any other vampire right now. I'm talking about Spike. He's different."
Xander stared at her, and then swallowed hard. "Okay, Buffy. But when Spike goes all crazy and tries to kill everybody, I reserve full rights to say 'I told you so.'"
"Fine," Buffy replied, knowing very well that Spike was not going to do anything of the sort. On the other hand, if it made Xander feel more comfortable to be cynical about the whole thing, so be it. "Now, back to business. Willow? Finding Spike?"
Willow breathed a sigh of relief now that the storm seemed to have passed for the time being. "Maybe. We could try a locator spell, which will work only if the warlock doesn't have Spike or if he isn't shielding well enough."
"That would tell us where Spike is if he's wandering around, but he would have found me by now," Buffy said. "I just have a feeling that it's not the case."
Willow frowned. "There's another way, maybe. If he's using magic on Spike, or if he tries to attack you again, we might be able to trace it, like the police can trace a phone call."
"That's assuming he tries something," Buffy replied.
Xander cleared his throat. "Or if he's using magic. After what he did to Spike the first time, do you think he'll be content just to tie him up and wait for the cavalry?"
There was a long silence, and then Buffy looked over at Willow. "We have to find him, and we have to find him now."
~~~~~
"You're nothing to me." Spike tried to stop the words echoing through his head, but he seemed to have no control over his own thoughts. It was like being crazy all over again, but worse. Again, there was some small part of his brain that understood the images he was seeing weren't real, but it wasn't the part that was in control.
That part kept hearing Buffy's voice—"You're nothing to me, you're beneath me. How could you think I would love something like you?"
If he wasn't hearing her words, he was seeing her dead body, lying next to Dawn's, their throats ripped out by his own teeth. He would hear their screams and know that there was nothing he could do to help them. He would see Dawn, her throat cut by Doc's blade, the wound gaping at him. Over and over again the images played—dead bodies, an alley with Buffy telling him he was beneath her.
He moaned, never knowing how close his tormentor stood.
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