[Reviews - 23]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2006 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to dawnofme for her beta work :D
Chapter Five


Tara left as soon as she could without arousing suspicion from either Spike or Dawn. She’d smiled reassuringly at the teenager in the hope that she would calm down a little about the changes in Spike. But for the coldness in his eyes, he didn’t seem much changed. Maybe a little more crude that he was before – she shuddered at the way he’d handled himself in front of her – but other than that, not too different. His aura puzzled her and she couldn’t wait to get started on researching it. She desperately hoped that Willow’s spell hadn’t caused any damage. She tried to warn Willow of the dangers but the end result had been them breaking up and obviously Willow not staying away from the powerful magics.


*~*~*~*


TwinSpike relaxed his shielding magic and slouched even lower in the chair. God, I’m good! He smirked and grabbed the remote, turning the TV on and settling down to watch the news. He was pleased that so far the teenager’s body hadn’t been found. So hopefully they wouldn’t have curfews introduced by their parents and he’d be able to grab a snack when the Slayer was sleeping. His stomach rumbled loudly. Running a hand over it he called out to Dawn.


“Going out for a bit. I’ll be back in an hour. Tell Buffy to be ready to patrol when I get back.”


A good feed always made him horny. He ate as little of the pig’s blood that they were always filling the refrigerator with as he could without arousing suspicion. It tasted like shite.


“Okay,” replied Dawn scowling. Tell her to be ready! Huh, Spike the control freak now.


But truth be told, she was glad that she wasn’t alone with him. She’d been able to tell that Tara thought something was wrong even though she hadn’t said anything so far. She grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard in the kitchen and wandered back into the living room. Disregarding her schoolwork, she sat down to watch her favourite reality TV show.

The telephone rang shrilly, interrupting her. Groaning, she got up and walked into the kitchen to answer it.


“Niblet?” The voice was low, slurred and raspy.


“Spike?” The use of her nickname made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up; he hadn’t used it in so long. “Is that you?”


“I-I need help…is…is Buffy there?” Spike spoke slowly, trying his hardest to make his words clear. The heavy studs in his tongue making it almost impossible,


Dawn scowled. “You know she’s not due back from work just yet. Are you drunk? You’ve only been gone thirty minutes.”


“No…I forgot. Look, Bit, can you…” There was a pause as Spike struggled to catch his breath. “I need…clothes…”


The door opened and Dawn turned around expecting to see Buffy even though it was a little too early for her but she almost dropped the phone when Spike walked in. She quickly turned away. Was this a trick? With a trembling hand she put the receiver to her ear.


“Where are you?” she whispered, heart thumping in her chest.


“Nearest call box to…the old…factory…it’s—”


“I know where it is,” said Dawn quickly. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Two Spikes! She had no doubt that she was talking to the real version. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Without waiting for a reply, she hung up.


“Who was that, Dawnie?” asked TwinSpike.


“Er…Jenny,” replied Dawn, thinking on her feet. “I left some books there last night. I’ll have to go get them.”


TwinSpike immediately lost interest. He shrugged and grabbed the bottle of JD and left Dawn alone.


She raced down into the basement. She knew that Spike had some clothes in the laundry basket and that he’d not miss them for a few days at least as he always left Buffy to do his laundry for him. She grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and stuffed them into an old rucksack that she found down there. Back in the kitchen, she took a bag of pig’s blood from the fridge and raided the tin on the shelf where Buffy put the grocery money each week.


“See you later,” she called, hoping that her voice sounded normal and then ran outside.


*~*~*~*


Spike’s legs gave way and he slumped to the floor. He’d managed to hang up the phone with Dawn, but struggled to keep his eyes open. When he’d found the door to the outside, he’d gone back to the ‘bedroom’ and pulled a sheet from the bed to cover his nakedness. Now he wrapped it tighter around himself as he sat on the floor, surrounded by the quarters that had fallen when he’d ripped open the telephone. He hoped that she’d hurry, his doppelganger could return at any moment and he’d certainly spot Spike if he did.


After what seemed like an age, Dawn arrived at a jog, her face pink from the exertion and her dark hair flowing out behind her. Spike struggled to his feet and she skidded to a halt.


“Oh, my God. It really is you,” she whispered.


Spike tried unsuccessfully to smile at her – it came out more like a grimace. “’S me.” When she didn’t move, he held out his hand for the bag. Dawn took it off her shoulder and went to pass it to him, but then she squealed and dropped it.


Spike looked behind him, there was no one there. “What’s wrong, kitten?”


“Your hand!”


“What?” Spike glanced at his left hand. “Oh, right.” He curled it up into a fist and hid it in the sheet.


“What happened? Where have you been? And who is that back at the house?”


“Let me just put the clothes on first, eh?” His legs were wobbling again and he leant against the call box.


Dawn bent down and picked up the bag, handing it to Spike without incident this time. Spike pulled out the jeans and t-shirt. She just stared.


“Can you turn around? I’d like a bit of privacy.” And I don’t want you to see…He shuddered.


Dawn turned crimson and immediately whirled around. She heard Spike grunt with the effort it took to pull on the jeans and t-shirt.


“You can turn ‘round now.”


“I didn’t bring shoes,” said Dawn as she turned to face him. A glance at his feet made her face blanch and bile rise in her throat. “Oh, Spike,” she whispered.


Spike gritted his teeth. “Look. We need to get away from here.” Before I fall down and can’t get up again.


“By the time we get home, Buffy will be there.”


Spike shook his head. “Too dangerous. It needs to be somewhere that I’ve never been, somewhere that he can’t find in my memories.”


Dawn’s eyes widened. “He can read your mind?”


“No. But all of my memories are his too.” Spike gripped the call box a little tighter. “We need to plan what to do.”


Dawn frowned and then her face lit up. “I know just the place! It’s not too far.”


Spike took a step but staggered and she rushed to his side to keep him from falling. He wrapped his arm around her gratefully, but when he looked at her to thank her, all he became aware of was her strong slightly accelerated pulse. He licked his lips. Smells so good – warm. With an effort, he shook off the almost impossible to resist need to rip her throat out. He didn’t care if he had to do it with his blunt human teeth. He was pretty sure that he could get a good enough bite in before the chip fired if he was really quick.


“No,” he growled.


“What?” Dawn’s huge eyes met his and the temptation eased a little.


“Nothing.”


She picked up the bag as they began to walk slowly away. “I’ve got you some blood.”


“Thanks.”


Spike knew that after being back on the good stuff that returning to pig’s blood would be hard. It would hurt. When he’d first had the chip put in, making the switch from human to animal had been like going cold turkey from drugs.


Together they made their way slowly to the building that Dawn suggested. Expecting a burnt out ruin or some other dilapidated place, Spike’s stopped in surprise when she led him down the driveway of a large detached house. A glance at Dawn revealed that the teenager was grinning at him. “No one will think of looking here for you.”


“It’s no good,” Spike said shaking his head. “This place is bound to be alarmed. The cops will know as soon as we break in.” His voice was getting weaker.


Dawn laughed. “I know where the key is. They’re away in Europe for another month.”


“But…”


Spike’s legs chose that moment to give out and despite Dawn’s grip he slid down to the floor.


“Spike!” Dawn’s eyes were wide with alarm.


He closed his eyes. “I’m really…tired…I’ll just –”


“No! You’re nearly there.”


She slapped his face as hard as she could. She was horrified when Spike cowered down at her feet.


“Oh, God, Spike, I’m sorry.” She bent down to look into his face, taking his chin gently in her hand when he wouldn’t meet her eye. “Come on, it’s not much further and then you can sleep, okay? You’ll be safe.”


He met her gaze when she said the word ‘safe’. Would he ever truly feel safe again? He took a deep breath and struggled to his feet, relying on Dawn’s help. With his head down, they walked round to the back door. He leaned against the wall when Dawn went to retrieve the key from under a fake rock in a flower bed.


Spike settled for the couch, not able to face trying to climb the stairs.


“Um…you’re kind of…well…er…”


“What is it, Niblet?”


“Don’t you want a shower, or a bath? I’m sorry but you really stink,” Dawn said apologetically.


“Later, okay,” Spike replied wearily.


“Here’s the blood.” She handed him the bag. “I’ll go home and tell Buffy about you. She’ll come right over.”


“No,” said Spike, sitting up. “She has got to act normal or else he’ll suspect something and you’ll all be hurt. Ask her to come here instead of work tomorrow.”


“I’ll call her and stay with you,” said Dawn. “I’m not leaving you alone.”


“You’ve got to, Niblet,” said Spike, fatigue making his words even more slurred.


Tears welled in Dawn’s eyes. “He never called me that,” she whispered.


Spike raised his eyes to meet hers and tried to smile, but it came out all wrong again. He could tell it had by the look on her face. “I thought you didn’t like it?”


“I don’t, but I missed it.”


Spike nodded and slumped back on the couch, closing his eyes. “Has he…has he hurt you…hurt Buffy?”


“No. He doesn’t talk to me much and Buffy and him are too busy…um…patrolling,” replied Dawn, silently berating herself at almost telling Spike what their chief occupation was these days. A glance at Spike told her that he hadn’t believed the patrolling part. “She thinks he’s you.”


Spike turned away, squeezing his eyes shut in the hope of keeping the bitter tears from falling.


“But you thought something was wrong,” said Spike, the hurt he felt was disguised by his awkward speech.


“Only because he never called me Niblet,” lied Dawn.


Spike heard the lie and shuddered. “You’d best go home.”


This time she didn’t argue. Spike’s crying! Oh, God, Spike’s crying! She’d never seen Spike anything but cocky and confident. He looked so small. Her eyes fell on his mutilated foot and she shuddered.


“Buffy will come as soon as she can.” Dawn bent down and kissed Spike’s forehead before running from the room.


That gentle touch opened the floodgates and Spike thought that he’d never be able to stop the gut-wrenching sobs that were tearing through him.


*~*~*~*


Buffy and Spike were out when Dawn got back. She rolled her eyes – no surprise there, but her stomach churned at the thought of Buffy and the other Spike getting more than smoochy at the crypt. She glanced at the telephone. It wasn’t too late to tell Tara was it?


Deciding that she didn’t care if it was, Dawn dialled the number and waited for an age before Tara answered.


“Hello?”


“Tara! Spike’s hurt! You’ve got to help him.”


“W-what?” said Tara, puzzled. “Why do you want me to help him – you thought that he was all wrong earlier, evil or something – so what’s so urgent now?”


“Not that Spike,” explained Dawn. “The real Spike. The other must be the double that Willow made – he never disappeared and he’s really hurt Spike.” Dawn’s voice quavered as she spoke.


“Oh! Sweet Goddess. Where is he?”


Dawn told Tara all about what had happened and where she’d left Spike.


“He shouldn’t be alone, but he made me leave and said Buffy hasn’t to go to him until tomorrow but she’s with the other one now and…” She couldn’t go on.


“Shh, sweetie. I’ll go to him. He’s right. We need to be careful. The other Spike must be powerful to be able to do what he has. Tell Buffy to bring Willow tomorrow. We need to send that…” What could she call the other? It was getting confusing. “TwinSpike back to wherever Willow conjured him from.”


“I’m scared, Tara. I don’t want to stay here. Can’t I leave a note saying I’m staying with Jenny and come with you?”


“No, Dawn. What happens if they check up on you? A locator spell would lead them both to Spike if you’re with him. Be brave, Dawnie. Spike needs you to be brave.”


Dawn reluctantly agreed and as soon as she hung up, she headed for the kitchen and ice-cream – she needed lots and lots of ice-cream.


*~*~*~*


Spike lay on the sofa. He was exhausted but couldn’t even begin to relax. He knew exactly what TwinSpike and Buffy would be up to and shuddered as he ran a hand over his groin. He’d never let her see that. Never!


He pushed himself up until he was sitting and when the stench of stale semen made itself known once again, he decided to try to make it to a shower. Spike walked slowly to the stairs and crawled up them, rather than risk falling. The third door he tried revealed a huge bathroom with a tub and separate shower stall. Sitting down seemed like a better idea than standing and so he put the plug in the tub and turned on the taps, hoping that the water would be hot. He wasn’t disappointed and steam clouded the room as it filled.


Spike hissed as he lowered himself in. The sensation of the water being able to go inside him was unpleasant, but clenching his buttocks made no difference.


Least it’ll get that bastard’s juices out of me.


Spike sank lower until the water was lapping at his chin. The bath was so large that his toes only just reached the end with the taps. Closing his eyes, he decided that he’d just soak for a while, before he soaped himself. He drifted off to sleep without knowing that he had.


Tara arrived at the house and when there was no sign of Spike in the living room, she called his name as she walked quickly through each of the downstairs rooms. They were empty. Her heart began to beat a little quicker. What if that TwinSpike had found him already? She ran softly up the stairs. Only one door on the landing was ajar and she moved swiftly to it. The deep pile carpet made her steps almost silent. She tentatively pushed the door open. She saw Spike lying in the tub with only his closed eyes above the level of the water.


“Spike!” she shouted. It wasn’t until afterwards that she realised how stupid she’d been in worrying that he had drowned. But in that instant, she forgot all about the lack of breath vampires needed and saw only a friend possibly lying dead in the water.


Spike startled awake with a yell that had water flooding into his mouth. Coughing and spluttering, he leapt out of the bathtub in panic and then came to a shocked halt in front of Tara.


Her eyes widened and her hand flew up to her mouth when she saw his naked body. In an instant, she followed the mass of bruises down his torso, the strange metal plate over his heart, and then gasped in horror as her eyes settled on his genitals.


Spike gathered his wits enough to cover himself with his hands, but he knew that he’d been too slow and that she’d seen what he wanted no one ever to see. He spun around and picked up the fluffy pink towel that he’d left on the floor, ready to use. Another sharp intake of breath reminded Spike that his rear view wasn’t any prettier than the front. Groaning with shame, he wrapped the towel around him and then slumped to the floor resting his head on his bent knees. She didn’t move or say anything, so he glanced up at her through his lashes and saw her eyes were fixed on his feet. Well one foot in particular. He shifted his position so that his feet were hidden by the large towel and screwed his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear it.


He shrank away when her hand touched his shoulder though he wasn’t sure whether it was because he was so used to being abused or whether it was shame.


“Spike,” she said in a voice so laden with sympathy that Spike wished he could dust right there and then.


He shuffled further away, sickened even more when the movement allowed water to seep out of his anus.


“I’m here to help you,” said Tara gently. “I’m sorry I startled you, I just thought you had fallen unconscious and drowned.”


Spike could hear the embarrassment at her mistake in her voice and without looking at her, he mumbled, “Already dead, love.” He cringed at the garbled sound of his voice.


“I brought more blood. I’ll go and heat it for you, then bring it up, okay?”


Spike didn’t react.


“You’ve got to eat,” she persisted.


Spike sighed and nodded slightly. He couldn’t give up. Not until that bastard was dead.


“Leave the bedroom door open, then I’ll know which one you’re in,” said Tara, adding, “This place has so many; the blood would be cold before I found you again.”


She stroked his arm before getting up and walking out of the bathroom. Spike shivered. All of the benefit of having a hot bath had gone. His whole body ached. He struggled to his feet and made his way to the nearest bedroom. Judging by the posters on the wall it was a teenaged girl’s room but the bed was still a large double. It would do. Spike dropped the towel and slipped under the covers, pulling them right up to his chin.


The door opened a little wider and Tara walked in holding a mug of steaming blood. Taking care to ensure that the only part of him showing was his head, Spike sat up and moved his left hand out to take the mug before remembering and reaching awkwardly for it with his right instead. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the small holes through his palms, but the slight widening of her eyes told him that she had.


He wished that Tara would just leave; instead she sat in the armchair near the window after she’d passed him the mug. His nerves were on edge after ten minutes of her sitting in silence. Not because he wanted her to talk, but rather that the longer it was the more certain he was that she would talk. In the end, he could stand it no more and broke the silence himself.


“Wh…what…uh…what you saw…” He bit his lower lip as he tried to remain composed. “You can’t…I mean…I don’t want anyone to know.”


“I would never tell.” She knew exactly what part of him he meant and her heart went out to him.


“Thank you,” he whispered.


“C-Can I do something to your foot, please?” asked Tara. “It looks like walking on it would hurt. Maybe it will feel better if I bind it so that…” Her voice broke.


“So that it doesn’t look like a bloody flipper?” supplied Spike, with an edge to his voice. “Bastard made it heal like that. Forced it apart until it was healed over.”


“I’m so sorry, Spike,” murmured Tara. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “What happened?” She saw him tense and quickly continued. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Just forget I said it.”


Spike met her eye briefly. “’S okay. I’ve got no secrets from you, have I?” He was proud at how even his voice sounded. “Left the toes and part of my foot nailed to a bed post.”


Tara paled.


Spike brought his left hand out from under the covers and held it for her to see. “He ate the other bits.” He knew she wouldn’t be thinking of the finger when he said it.


Tara made a mewling sound and fled from the room. Seconds later, Spike could hear her throwing up in the bathroom. He cursed himself for saying it like that. She was trying to help him. Spike sipped at the blood, letting its warmth soothe him from the inside out.


Spike had just begun to think that she’d left altogether when Tara reappeared with a first aid kit. She was still deathly pale but looked composed and said, “Let me see your foot.”


Spike obediently wriggled his foot until it was poking out of the bedclothes. She examined it closely. “Let me know if I hurt you.”


She selected a bandage and wrapped it around Spike’s foot. Beginning with his toes and working her way to the heel and then wrapping it around the ankle before tying it off. Spike winced when the two smaller toes were pushed towards his big toe but it was more discomfort than hurt. When she was finished, he quickly pulled it back out of sight. He wasn’t sure what looked worse – the V shaped hole in the middle of his foot or how narrow it looked now that it was strapped together.


“May I see your hand?” she asked quietly.


“That’s all healed up,” he said but he offered it to her all the same. He shuddered when her fingers stroked the unscarred surface of where his finger had been. She surprised him by bringing his hand to her lips and lightly kissing the palm.


She looked in his eyes with the boldest stare he’d ever seen her give. “It won’t change the way she feels about you.” They both knew that she wasn’t talking about his hands.


He dropped his gaze but said nothing. It changed the way he felt. Didn’t matter what Buffy said. The only time he’d gotten hard was just before the bastard had chewed it off. He doubted that he would ever get hard again.


“Do you want me to take a look at your tongue?” asked Tara.


“Don’t miss a trick, do you,” replied Spike, before sticking his tongue out at her.


The three studs in his tongue were almost as big as marbles.


“How did he do it?”


“Magic. The git’s full of it.”


Tara smiled. “In that case I might be able to get rid of them now. A simple reversal spell should do it. I’ll go and get my bag.”


Spike watched as she scurried out of the room. He slipped his left hand under the covers and stroked his dick and solitary testicle. Three fingers on his cock instead of four felt odd. He teased the skin of the remaining part of his scrotum and sighed when nothing stirred.


May as well have taken the fucking lot!


He screwed up his eyes as despair closed in again.


Why hasn’t Buffy noticed? Does she like him better than me?


Tara returned with another mug-full of blood and the makings of her spell. “I’ll do the spell first. It might hurt a little – I haven’t got the ingredients for a numbing spell with me.”


“Do it.”


He watched as Tara mixed the ingredients with a small pestle and mortar and then recited an incantation in a language he couldn’t understand. It felt like his tongue was being ripped out but when he leant forward and gasped, the three studs flew out of his mouth and rolled down the bed.


“Wow,” said Tara a little wild-eyed. “Are you okay?”


Spike rolled his tongue around his mouth experimentally. It hurt but was a lot more mobile. He nodded. “Think so.”


Tara rested her hand on Spike’s arm, both pretending not to notice him flinch, as she said, “Everything will be all right.”


But Spike knew that it wouldn’t be. That bastard could die, but nothing would ever be all right again.





You must login (register) to review.