Sorrow's Own Joys by Enigmaticblue

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Chapter 6: The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test

Buffy stared at Spike. One minute he'd been teasing her about the possible activities for later in the evening, and the next he'd been cowering on the ground, pleading with her to stop. The problem was that she wasn't even touching him. "Spike? Spike, it's okay. See, I'm not touching you."

Something seemed to snap, and he scrambled to his feet and started to run. She hesitated for only a moment before giving chase, easily catching up to him and tackling him to the ground. Buffy pinned him, holding the squirming vampire as tightly as possible. "Spike! Spike, snap out of it!"

He was muttering incoherently, telling her to stop, that she was possessed. If anything, he was the one possessed, but he didn't seem to be coming out of it. Buffy didn't dare shift her position to try and comfort him. As crazy as he was acting, she didn't want to risk him running. Who knew if he would know enough to get out from the sun, or to make it back to his house? She sat on his chest, trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do when he seemed to finally focus on her face. "Slayer?" he whispered.

"Spike," she said, relieved. "Are you okay?"

He was staring at her. "You—I thought you were going to stake me."

"No," she said carefully. "We were moving demon bodies and making plans for later tonight, and then you started—" Buffy stopped. "Cowering" was probably not the word she wanted to use. "Acting crazy," she finished.

She could see him swallow. "Your eyes were red. You were going to kill me."

"Okay," she said quietly. "I think something really strange is going on here. I'm going to let you up, and then I want you to come back to the house with me. You promise you're okay for that?"

He nodded, and she slowly let him up. Spike rose, and Buffy could tell he was still regarding her warily, as if she might attack any minute. "I'm not going to hurt you, Spike," she said, a little frustrated. "Come on." She grabbed his arm, firmly but gently, and pulled him along towards her house. "We'll get back and I'll give Giles a call. Maybe those demons did something to you. I got infected with demon blood that one time, and I could hear everybody's thoughts."

Spike didn't reply. He looked tense, and Buffy said quietly. "What's wrong?"

"Keep seein' things, like out of the corner of my eye. We're bein' followed."

Buffy looked around. The night was remarkably quiet, and she was certain that they were the only ones out and about for a couple blocks at least. "I think we're alone, Spike."

He shook his head stubbornly. "They're followin' us. They're always there."

"Who's always there?" Buffy asked, deciding to humor the crazy vampire.

"They are," he said, not really explaining. "They're waitin' for me to mess up. So they can hurt me. I need to be punished. I'm a bad man."

Buffy was beginning to get scared. For a minute there, Spike had been lucid, but he was rapidly slipping away from her. "Not really," Buffy said, striving for levity. "You haven't been bad for a while now, Spike."

He shook his head. "I'm wrong, all wrong. They'll punish me now."

"No one's going to touch you," Buffy replied as he tried to pull away from her. "Look at me." She waited for him to meet her eyes. "We're going to go back to my place, and then we're going to figure this out. Just hang in there."

Spike nodded. Buffy just hoped that her determination to get him through this in one piece was enough.

~~~~~

Giles came immediately when she called him, bringing a stack of books and his worried face. "I think I've narrowed down what kind of demon attacked you. Your description of the demons and Spike's symptoms helped." He looked around the living room. "Where is Spike?"

"Downstairs, in the basement," Buffy explained. "He started to vamp out when we got back to the house. I think he was barely keeping himself from attacking me, so I chained him up."

"Probably a wise idea," Giles agreed. "A vampire's hallucinations could be quite dangerous, both to those around him and to himself." The Watcher had no idea why he was concerned about Spike, but he was. He told himself it was only out of sympathy for Buffy and Dawn, both of whom would be quite distressed should anything happen to the vampire. "Where is Dawn?"

Buffy picked up one of the books, flipping through it quickly. "Still with Willow and Tara. She had planned on spending the night anyway, but I told them to go ahead and keep her over there since Tara doesn't have to work. She said she'd make sure Dawn was okay and call sometime tomorrow."

"We will figure this out," Giles said comfortingly.

Buffy shook her head. "Look, Giles, I know you guys aren't terribly thrilled that I'm spending so much time with Spike, but I really appreciate your help."

"I worry about you, Buffy," her Watcher admitted. "I hardly think that getting involved with another vampire is a good idea."

Buffy sighed. "I tried being with a normal guy, and look how well that turned out." She stared at the pages of the book in front of her without really seeing anything. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm not normal, Giles. I won't ever be normal. Just the way my life is right now makes it highly unlikely that I would find somebody who is willing to deal with my issues. And that's without the slaying. Spike—Spike is different."

Giles was silent, unsure of what to say, and Buffy continued. "I don't know how much longer I have. I really believe that if Glory—actually, Ben—hadn't been hit by that car, I wouldn't have survived that one. I got lucky, and I don't know how long my luck will last."

"And you think Spike will make a difference?" he asked softly.

"No," Buffy replied. "I think Spike will stick around." There was suddenly a sound from the basement that sounded like a wounded animal. "I should check on him. I'll be right back."

Buffy ran downstairs into the basement, not wanting to wait for Giles' reaction. It was true enough, though. Her shelf-life had long been up; she'd already died once. And seeing Spike like this, now, was enough to tell her that her feelings for him ran a lot deeper than she'd thought.

Spike was straining against the chains she'd put on him, growling, almost completely feral. He was still fangy, and it didn't look like he was going to calm down anytime soon. "Spike?"

The way he growled and tried to leap at her reminded her a little of Angel, after he'd come back from that hell dimension. Buffy wondered what he was seeing, what was causing him to go crazy. She took a step closer, trusting that he wouldn't hurt her. "Spike. William. It's me."

The vampire became still, cocking his head to one side, his eyes glowing green/gold. She took another step forward, this time bringing herself close enough to touch him. "Come on," she said. "Let's sit down." He was still watching her, his eyes glowing in the dim light from the overhead bulb. "Spike, sit." Obediently, he did so, still not speaking, simply looking at her with those yellow eyes of his. To be honest, it was beginning to freak her out.

"Do you think you could sleep?" she asked, not expecting a response, and so not surprised when she didn't get one. "Come on. Lay down." She coaxed him into a prone position, so that he lay with his head on pillowed on her leg. As soon as his cheek hit the denim of her jeans, the demon's visage melted away. "That's right," she murmured. "Tell me what you see."

She wasn't surprised when he didn't say anything at all.

~~~~~

They were dead. Some part of Spike's brain still knew that, but it couldn't explain why they were standing right there, real enough to touch. He had killed them, hunted each one of them down and shoved a railroad spike through their heads. The Watchers said he got his name from torturing his victims, but that wasn't true at all. It had been reasonably quick, really, much quicker than the hell they'd put him through for years.

He could barely remember their names, but their faces were burned on his memory. They taunted him now, snatching away his journal and reading his poetry aloud, snickering, making fun where he could hear. Tormenting him. He'd brought forth the demon, thinking to teach them a lesson, to repeat the past, but he found himself restrained.

And then they had turned into demons themselves, like the monsters he'd been sure were under his bed when he was six. He'd always been afraid of the monsters—until he was one. They had come to kill him, to rip him to shreds. Their eyes glowed green, and their claws dripped poison, and he couldn't get away—

And she came. Glowing. Brightly effulgent. And with her every step the monsters drifted away like wisps of smoke. She spoke softly and touched his face—his demon's face—without fear, and he loved her. No, that wasn't right. He'd been in love with her for a long time now. She was his bright goddess, and he would lay down his life for her in one shining moment of sacrifice.

He had to tell her. But that poem had been written for another. It was improper to offer it up to another lady. William would never—but he wasn't William. He was—he couldn't quite remember who he was. But he suddenly remembered what he was.

He was hers—whether she wanted him or not.

~~~~~

Buffy could feel Spike relax under her fingers, as she murmured nonsense words of comfort. This she could do. She liked being the strong one, the one in control, and Spike allowed her that. It was strange, because as arrogant and cocky as he could be, he knew when to let her lead, when to allow her to own her own strength. And then he was simply there when she needed to borrow his in return.

Spike wasn't like Riley in that way, though they weren't really alike in any way. Riley hadn't fallen in love with her strength, with her Slayerness, as Spike had. Riley fell in love with a small, blonde girl, who then surprised him with her ability to not need him. She had loved him, in her own way, but Riley had equated love with need, and Buffy wasn't built that way.

Spike equated love with passion, with an understanding of the other person that went so deep, it was beyond words. For Spike, love was sacrifice, an eternal giving, an all-consuming fire.

It was high time she stoked the blaze.

Buffy had no idea how long they were down there, but Giles hadn't come to get her, so she supposed it wasn't long enough to worry him. She thought Spike had fallen asleep; he was motionless, his eyes closed, head still pillowed on her thigh. There was a whisper of sound from the vampire. "What's that, sweetheart?"

Blue eyes blinked open slowly. "It's not right to give one girl's poem to another."

Buffy wasn't sure what he was talking about, so she decided to agree. "No, I guess it wouldn't be. Why?"

"I wanted to give you a poem, but I haven't written any for a long time," he replied. "William used to write poetry, but he died."

Buffy had a hard time preventing her jaw from dropping. From what Spike had told her about his past, and about his mother, it was obvious that he wasn't any kind of bad-ass. But a poet? That was something else altogether, and Spike hadn't let anything like that slip. "Was he any good?"

"Bloody awful," Spike confessed, on behalf of his dead self. "That's when they started calling him William the Bloody. Then he died, and he really was." He tried to reach up and touch her hair, but the chains wouldn't let him reach that far. "'s like sunshine," he whispered sadly. "I can't touch it."

"Just as soon as we figure out what happened, and you're safe, you can," she assured him. "Are you going to be okay by yourself for a while? I need to go talk to Giles."

He shuddered slightly. "You chased the monsters away."

Buffy tried not to laugh. "You're a monster yourself. I'd think you'd be able to chase them away on your own."

"They're not scared of me."

"Oh." Buffy tried another tack. "Well, this is my house, and monsters aren't allowed in here at all. Except for you. So if they come back, you just let me know, okay?"

He nodded. Buffy slid out from under him and went to find a pillow and a blanket from the boxes that were laying around. She tucked him in as best she could while he was on the hard basement floor. "Shall I write you a poem?" he asked, as she walked up the stairs.

The Slayer hid a smile. If they fixed this after Spike wrote a poem for her, he was probably going to be pissed off. On the other hand, she would love to see what he'd write for her. "Yes, please."

Buffy found Giles still going through books. "Hey. Found anything yet?"

He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I think I have. Is this what attacked you?"

She looked at the picture. "Those are the guys all right. Do you know what they did to Spike?"

"I'm afraid that the Effrendiks have a natural substance they secrete from their claws," her Watcher explained. "Vampires are allergic."

Buffy stared at him. "Spike was allergic to the demons, and that's why he's going nuts on me?"

Clearing his throat, Giles nodded. "Basically, yes. The good news is that there is a cure. The bad news is that the cure happens to be time. Judging from what you told me about his injuries, I imagine the toxins will take at least a couple days to disperse. Until then, well..."

Buffy sighed. "Great. I guess I'll be vamp-sitting then."

"If you need help, I would be happy to offer my services," Giles said. Then amending his statement, added, "Well, 'happy' might be too strong a word."

"Thanks, Giles," Buffy replied. "I don't have to work tomorrow, thankfully, so I think I'll be okay. If it lasts too much longer than that, we'll have to work something out. So far, he's been a little calmer with me around, so I should probably stick close."

Giles put a hand on her shoulder, startling her. They rarely touched, even though the mutual affection—and love—between them ran deep. "Buffy, I won't tell you that I approve of you embarking on another relationship with a vampire, but I've been thinking about what you said, and you're quite right. A traditional relationship is hardly an option for you. And as far as vampires go, Spike isn't so bad. He's not what I would want for you, but I can live with him."

Buffy smiled. "Thanks, Giles. Xander's going to be enough of a problem as it is. I'm glad I don't have to worry about you attacking me too."

"I wouldn't attack you, Buffy," Giles replied, sounding almost offended. "I might voice a protest. Loudly." He smiled. "I want you to be happy, and if Spike can do that for you, then I will try not to stake him."

~~~~~

Spike was talking to thin air when she went back down to the basement. Even when she tried to get his attention, he ignored her, preferring his invisible companion. Or maybe he was talking to himself. In any case, at least he was reasonably quiet, talking about hall passes and stamps and the possibility of getting caned. Buffy sighed. She wanted to go upstairs to her own bed, but she didn't want to leave Spike alone.

She drew closer, and when he still didn't acknowledge her presence, she captured his face between her hands. "Spike." Waiting patiently for him to focus, she finally asked, "Do you think you'd be okay to sleep in a bed? I'll be there the whole time, but I'd need you to just lie quietly. Can you do that for me?"

"I can do anything for you," he replied fervently. Again, he tried to touch her hair, and this time she was close enough so that the chains didn't interfere. "I'd walk in the sun for you."

She smiled. "I know you would, Spike. But I would really rather you not, if that's okay." Buffy pulled the key out of her pocket and unlocked the manacles around his wrists, wincing as she realized he'd already torn the tender skin. "Damn. Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Turn about's fair play, I guess."

Spike followed her upstairs obediently, almost docile. After Giles had left, Buffy had taken a look at the relevant passages dealing with Spike's allergic reaction. Apparently, the whatever-it-was on the Eff—well, effing demons, as far as Buffy was concerned—caused hallucinations, not unlike those experienced by humans on a really bad acid trip.

Visions, flash backs, smelling colors, the whole nine yards; Spike would be facing all of that over the next 48 to 72 hours. Buffy couldn't help but wonder what her reaction would have been if this hadn't been just an allergic reaction. What would she do if Spike was seriously impaired? She knew from experience how hard it was to cause permanent damage to a vampire. She also knew that it could be done. What would she do if something really bad happened to him? Something permanent?

It was as she had suspected. She would be lost without him.

"Okay, why don't you sit down, and I'll get something to clean up those scratches?" Buffy steered him over to the bed and got him settled down. "Just sit tight."

She went to the bathroom and rummaged around for first aid supplies. Buffy huffed. She really should take out stock in bandages and other first aid accoutrements. As much as she and her friends used, she'd be a rich woman by now.

There was a commotion from her room, and Buffy hurriedly gathered her stuff. Spike was crouched in the corner, holding his head with both hands, rocking back and forth. Startled, Buffy realized that she'd seen him in this position before, after she'd pulled him off the wall of his crypt. He had been trying not to go crazy then, too, she supposed, but she'd had less sympathy for him at the time.

Strange how quickly things could change.

Buffy took her supplies to Spike. "Hey. Let's get you cleaned up." Spike didn't show any signs of responding, just kept rocking. "Spike, I need you to keep talking to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on. Please?"

"They're coming for me," he whispered.

"Who's coming for you, Spike?" He shook his head. "Who's coming?" she repeated.

He rocked harder. "The prefects. I don't have a pass. They're going to hurt me. They always hurt me."

They were apparently into the flashback part of the evening, Buffy thought. "Spike, it isn't real. You're having a reaction to some of the demon venom. I'm right here." She took a deep breath. "I'm not going anywhere." Buffy wanted to add "ever" to the end of that sentence, but she wasn't quite ready for that yet. Besides, Spike was in no position to enjoy a declaration of abiding affection (love).

Because she didn't yet have the words to say it, Buffy used actions, as she always had. She stayed with the vampire all night, leaving his side only once, when he had fallen into a restless sleep, in order to get him some blood. She coaxed him into drinking the mug down, relieved when he managed it. She stayed with him, just sitting close, while he spoke in riddles, talking about punishments and failures.

Buffy held him as he wept uncontrollably, mumbling about a girl named Cecily. Unwilling to put the chains back on, she held him down when he raged in full-on blood lust, held him even when it seemed he had no qualms about draining her dry. He had finally fallen back asleep when the phone rang, shortly before noon.

"Hello?" she said, knowing she sounded like she'd had a rough night. Big surprise under the circumstances.

"Buffy? It's Tara," the other woman replied. "How's Spike?"

She sighed. "Still pretty bad. Giles warned me it would take a couple days to get it out of his system, and apparently, he could still have flashbacks after that. Is Dawn doing okay?"

"Dawn's fine," Tara assured her. "Actually, Willow decided to take the day off, so she's going to take Dawn out with her, kind of as a distraction. She wants to see Spike, but from what you said yesterday, that wouldn't be such a good idea."

Buffy chuckled humorlessly. "Definitely not a good idea. And probably not for the next day or so. I need to go back to work tomorrow though, and I don't know who else could sit with him. I hate to put the restraints back on, but no one else is actually strong enough to handle him."

"I might have something that would help," Tara offered hesitantly. "I mean, I don't know for sure, but there's a tea I know of—it's calming. And herbs that if he breathed in—he's a vampire, so I don't know if it would work for sure, but—"

"It's definitely worth a try," Buffy agreed. "Do you—would you want to come over? I could come and get them, but—"

"You don't want to leave him,"Tara said, sounding perfectly understanding. "No, that's fine. I'll be there as soon as I can get the ingredients together."

Buffy didn't have a long wait. Tara was as good as her word, and was there within the hour. "I don't know why I didn't think of this last night," she said ruefully, as she fixed the tea on the stovetop while Buffy watched. Spike was still sleeping upstairs, the vampire sleep cycle finally kicking in.

"It's okay," Buffy assured her. "It was late, and I know I wasn't at my best." She paused. "Look, Tara, thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it."

The other girl smiled at her. "I don't mind, Buffy, really. I actually kind of like Spike. He's nice—in a weird kind of way."

"Yeah, I guess he is."

Tara hesitated, then said, "I know it's probably not my business, but do you—like him?"

"Like him?" Buffy asked. "Yeah, definitely. Do I love him? I don't know yet. But seeing him hurt like this, half out of his mind—suddenly I can't imagine my life without him."

Tara nodded. "I felt the same way about Willow," she confided. "When Oz came back, and I thought she w-was going to be with him again. I didn't know how I could be without her. Willow—Willow makes me stronger."

Buffy nodded slowly. "I can see what you're saying." She heard a rustling from upstairs, and she was halfway back to her bedroom before she realized she'd moved at all. "Spike?"

"Buffy?" It had been hours since he'd even known who she was, and the Slayer couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

"I'm right here," she assured him, coming closer to the corner where he was still crouched. "How are you feeling?"

He shook his head. "Not good. I think I'm seein' things. Dru was here a minute ago, but then she left. An' I think Angelus was here too. We were—we ate somebody. And now—" he held up a hand, looking slightly bewildered. "I think 'm smellin' colors, but that's not quite right."

"You had an allergic reaction," she said, trying to be as comforting as possible, amused by his puzzled look. "It's okay. It'll pass after a couple days, and Tara has some tea she thinks might calm you down a little."

"I feel pretty calm right now," he protested.

Buffy smiled. "I know, but after seeing you vamp out a couple times, I'm thinking calm is a good thing."

"Didn't hurt you, did I?" Spike asked, horrified.

She raised an eyebrow. "Hello? Slayer here. I think I can take care of myself." Buffy turned to look at Tara, who was coming into the room with a cup of tea in her hand.

"Hey, Spike," she said, greeting him gently. "How are you feeling?"

"People keep askin' me that," he said. "Feel a bit off."

Tara came to kneel next to him and Buffy, handing him the cup of tea. "Drink this. It should help you feel better."

Spike's eyes bored into the young witch. "Alright," he finally acquiesced, almost abruptly. He drank it down quickly, and it wasn't but a few minutes later that his eyes began to droop. "That was okay," he mumbled, starting to slur his words.

Buffy looked over at Tara with a raised eyebrow. "That was quick."

"I made it pretty strong," she replied, almost apologetically.

She nodded. "Probably best for him to be out. He's been pretty wiggy all night." Reaching down, she hauled Spike to his feet and helped him over to the bed, ignoring his mumbled protests about not kicking her out of her own room. "I'll deal," she said fondly. "But you need to sleep, and the window up here is already covered."

Buffy used the opportunity to finally bandage his wrists and clean him up a little bit, tugging off his boots and tucking him in properly. She placed a gentle kiss on his lips, and then left the room to join Tara in the kitchen. The Wicca was busy filling Joyce's sun tea jar with the potion off the stove.

"There should be enough here for the next couple days," Tara explained. "I'd give him a cup every few hours, or any time he seems to be getting a little agitated."

"Will it knock him out every time?" Buffy asked.

The other girl shook her head. "I don't think so. But he was pretty tired, so I think it just helped him to fall asleep." Tara paused. "Buffy—we were talking yesterday, right after you guys left for patrol. You know that Spike has a soul, right?"

Buffy shook her head. "Angel said he didn't. I mean, we know he was cursed with something, but—"

Tara shook her head. "No, it was definitely a soul of some kind. His aura is completely different. I don't know what A-Angel told you, or why he said what he did, but Spike has changed on a fundamental level. He's not the same person. Or-or he is, but just not really."

Buffy looked down at the kitchen counter. "I'm not sure it matters," she said softly. "I mean, if he's got a soul, great. And you're right, he's definitely changed, it's just—Spike changed. To say he has a soul now—it just seems like semantics, you know?"

"You mean it doesn't matter why he changed, just that he did?" Tara asked gently.

Buffy nodded, and cast her eyes in the direction of the stairs. "Something like that." She laughed. "With Angel, the soul was all-important. But with Spike—" She smiled slightly, a softness in her eyes. "With Spike, I just need him to be here."

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