Spike usually had exceptional self-control with all aspects of his life, especially when it came to his own emotions. His mantra, that he needed to control his emotions or else they would control him, always sprung in his mind whenever he let them cloud his judgment.
Now, though...
Spike quickly dusted his sixth vampire, not even bothering with the proper rules of engagement and riskily throwing the stake with perfect aim at the vampire’s heart. It could have been his seventh vampire that night, maybe his eighth; he wasn’t trying to remember or keep track.
I always used to keep track.
Spike shook his head, disturbed by the implications of the thought. He had to remember that she was only a girl and he’d only known her for a day. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight, he thought.
...is it?
If it was, then he needed to call up whoever made those romantic comedy movies and tell them the truth.
Hell, is there such thing as love at first sight? At least not in the movies?
She was throwing him in such disarray, changing him as a person, pervading his every thought. He wasn’t fighting with his normal defensive techniques but very recklessly, he wasn’t keeping track of his kills, and he was certainly allowing his emotions to get the better of him.
Self-tormenting... bloody hell, I need a drink.
He still blamed all of this on Giles. It was his fault that the dance was such a big deal, that he saw the hope in her eyes and that he was obligated to break that hope.
And why I’m being such a melodramatic git right now...
At least that was a welcome thought to him: stupefy these thoughts by blaming it all on Giles. It was entirely Giles’ fault, Spike knew that much. But putting blame on others was just childish, something Spike seldom ever did.
I can only blame myself.
Still, a big part of Spike wanted to march right over to the Watcher’s house and tell him that the soddin’ deal was off, but, again, he would be allowing his emotions to control him. It was pretty late in the night, anyway, and the Watcher would need his full attention to understand Spike’s situation.
Watcher’s whiskey during breakfast... bloody good thing also.
He decided that, for the time being, he would deal with less pressing matters, like where he was going to sleep for the night and if he would ever be able to brush his teeth again. These trivial thoughts were good enough to at least partially push away thoughts of Buffy.
Partially.
But then, amidst waywardly walking through the graveyard, he felt her.
Bloody hell. Not again.
He still sensed the rejection in her, which hurt him more than helped him. He focused on her aura a bit more...
It was trouble. She was in trouble.
And all he knew was that he had to help her.
Buffy took aimless lunges with her stake at the bloodsucking fiends that surrounded her, hoping that she could at least fend them off until she found an opening to escape.
I’m screwed. One versus eight is definitely not good odds.
She was like a lone lion fending off eight bloodthirsty hyenas simultaneously. The second she devoted time to one, another loomed a little closer and tried to take a bite out of her neck. With this in mind, Buffy was forced to take blind stabs behind her whenever she felt a vampire’s presence.
She tried pushing one into another, but that only worked when the number of fiends was relatively low. It didn’t work against an army of vampires.
And they found me.
Her stake connected with one, turning the vampire into dust, when she heard a tumble of footsteps behind her. Instinctively she reared the stake back into whatever was there, connecting with the vampire’s side and at least putting it down.
When she turned to finish it off, she was more than surprised to find Spike on the ground bleeding.
Ohmygod, I just staked Spike!
He was bleeding, but it didn’t look life or death. Before she had time to process any further bright ideas, Spike started to illuminate brightly, a white light etched around his physique. Almost instantly, the light turned as blinding as the sun, and Buffy had to turn her entire face away from the light while closing her eyes so she didn’t become completely blind.
When she opened them, she saw a very familiar sight.
The same small blue dragon with piercing blue eyes.
And it looked positively feral.
Dragon Spike immediately tail whipped one vampire, bashing the evil fiend to the ground, while simultaneously firebreathing into two more. It was quite a sight, seeing the dragon go to work. Although small in stature, the tail whips, claws, and firebreathing were overpowering for the already terrified armada of vampires.
With one last firebreath, the dragon finished off the last remaining vampire.
Its blue eyes, which looked exactly the same as Spike’s eyes, darted to Buffy.
Buffy took a step back, just in case it decided to attack. “Spike?” she asked wearily, praying he could control his bestial urges.
The dragon responded by pacing toward Buffy, mouth agape.
Buffy got into fighting stance, nerves shot. “Can you hear me, Spike?”
She didn’t want to hurt Spike again, but she also knew that Spike couldn’t exactly control himself as a dragon. At all.
The dragon was right up next to her now. Since the dragon was small and relatively the same height as Buffy, they were face to face.
Okay... think fast, Buffy. Knock it off its feet?
But all fear vanished as the dragon cocked its head at her, eyes examining her closely. It didn’t look ferocious anymore; it looked completely passive, like a lost puppy.
And sort of... cute.
Some strange intangible feeling overtook Buffy and she couldn’t help but touch the dragon on its face, wanting to see what it felt like.
The dragon immediately backed away, looking frustrated and somewhat hurt. It turned its face away from her.
Then it rose on its hind legs and roared as loud as it could, shaking the ground below them.
Another blinding light happened. This time Buffy was well prepared enough to shield the light by putting her hands over her eyes. She still couldn’t see the actual transformation, though. She suspected it was like something from an Animorphs book, although she didn’t really like the idea of categorizing Spike in the children’s section of the bookstore.
When the light finally faded, Spike remained standing.
“Did I just...” Spike examined the front and back of his hands, almost expecting to see claws.
“You transformed into a dragon and saved me... again,” Buffy said, still a little awe struck by the supernatural display.
Spike looked down at Buffy’s stake still in his side. With a stifled grunt of pain, he quickly pulled it out. “I don’t remember a soddin’ thing about being a dragon, must be twenty-four second amnesia.”
Spike eyed her closely. “Although I do remember jumping in to help you when you staked me.”
Buffy cringed, feeling the pain of his pain. “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, “I thought you were the vampire behind me and I was in big trouble and I wasn’t thinking and and—”
“It’s alright, Buffy,” he cut off her ramble. “I probably deserved it, seeing as I was such a git tonight.”
Her expression was blank. What just happened? How could Spike speak like that in a situation like this? He just skipped over the disaster of the dance like it wasn’t a big deal. It almost made her feel better, because if it wasn’t a big deal to him than it wasn’t a big deal to her and they could go on with their lives and just forget that debacle.
Only...
Spike looked over his wound. “Just a scratch, anyway. Nothing a band-aid can’t fix.”
Buffy put her hands on her hips, not buying it. The place where she jammed the stake was pouring out with blood. She put a hell of a lot of force behind that stake; normally a blow as hard as that would knock a human clear across the room.
Or area. Or graveyard. Or whatever.
“Really, pet,” Spike tried to assure her with a demonstration. “See?”
He tried to straighten his back and raise his arms in the air. He did it for about a second before he yelped in pain.
Buffy immediately flew to his side, ready to help him stand, but he waved her off.
Spike laughed, more at himself than anything.
How can he laugh when he’s in pain? He’s probably just doing it so I don’t feel completely awful...
“Know where I can find a bandage?” he said with a wry grin.
“I have a first aid kit at my house...” Buffy trailed at the wild idea of bringing Spike home. “Do you have a place to stay for the night?”
Spike shook his head. “No.”
“Then it’s settled. My house is right across the graveyard. Let’s go.”
“Little bossy today, are we, pet?” Spike cocked his head, looking like he was mulling over the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Buffy laughed a little. “Impose? I shish-kabobed you with a wooden stake. The least I can do is bandage you up and give you a place to stay for the night.”
Spike sheepishly scratched his head. “Well, I guess I could. What about your mum?”
“Oh, she’s fine with stuff like that as long as I’ve done my homework.” A pause. “She let’s Willow stay over all the time.”
It only took a second for Buffy to cringe at the bad example. “Not that you and Willow are exactly the same... I mean... you’re a he and she’s a... a she...”
She became a complete mess of the English language when she was around him.
Buffy shook her thoughts back in place. “I’m sure she won’t mind. You’re hurt. Let’s just go.”
Spike shrugged. “Alright. Lead the way, nurse.”
And with that, they started the silent walk home.
Penny for your thoughts?