Chapter Thirty-Eight
Angel stood still by the closed door, his fearful gaze unable to look away from the blonde pair clinging to each other in front of him. His body began to hum in dread as Buffy’s eyes turned to him, the question he didn’t want to answer plain as day.
“You can help him, right?”
Her tears had always sliced open a vulnerable part of him, and he felt his strength crumble. He felt like laughing. Out of pure hysteria. He didn’t think Buffy would take it the way he intended though, so he took a few excruciating moments to compose himself. When the rising urge to laugh had fled, it was quickly replaced by the need to howl like an animal at the destruction of its progeny. Observing Spike and his whimpering reluctance to release Buffy for even a moment, had him giving in; the anger and fear combining to create a perfectly animalistic sound of grief. Recognising something of the demonic rule Spike answered with his own series of sad yowls, perhaps not understanding that the song was for himself.
Buffy clung to him, her face slippery and red from the tears that had not abated since she had first set eyes on him tonight. Her fingers combed gently through his hair and she resorted herself to making inhuman noises to convey her serious fear at the condition of her mate. The sensitive pads of her fingers found ribs of scalp, rough with stitching that had not been removed, though vampire healing had closed the skin off over the top. She flinched, knowing that they would have to cut him open again to get rid of the thread. Her eyes had earlier catalogued all the cuts and bruises visible on his face, but now she knew from the various flinches when in contact that his body would be covered as well, and she swallowed hard knowing that her stomach could well get another workout.
Kissing the side of his mouth in reassurance both her own and his she turned again to Angel. She stayed silent, aware that her earlier question still hung like a death knoll between them.
“I don’t know.” Angel never spoke loudly, and he often looked overwhelmed with just the average daily interaction between people and life, but now the challenge was a larger one. His voice sounded odd to himself, out of control.
“Maybe the ritual…” his voice tapered off, hoping that Buffy knew what he referred to without him having to explain farther.
She sniffed. “Wouldn’t we need Dru? She is his real Sire, isn’t she?”
Her throat was sore, clogged from her endless tears and she couldn’t even swallow to rid herself of the painful lump. She was afraid that if she flushed herself of the little reminder that she hurt then she might fall into a numbness she wouldn’t be able to escape from. This was taking a huge emotional toll even more than the feelings of leaving heaven and she wasn’t sure if she could survive if she couldn’t have Spike back.
She thought more of the ritual that Angel referred to, the one that had first brought Spike into her life when he was desperate to restore his loony girlfriend and destroy Angel in the process. She had taken it personally at the time, but knowing Spike like she did now, she had no lingering belief that he hadn’t felt regret at the thought of having to destroy a member of his family to return Dru to her former strength. She frowned in sudden understanding.
“I don’t think that would work. It was to restore her strength, right? Didn’t do anything to improve her insanity.” The bitter barb was ignored for the release of fear that it was.
Angel nodded slowly, feeling frantic at his inability to quickly think of a solution.
“Well, what do you know about what that bitch out there did to him?” He had changed in his fury, back to the subtle reminders of Angelus, causing little shivers of shock to race over her skin.
Buffy pulled back a little from Spike, trying to look into his eyes. His confusion confirmed that he didn’t have a clue of who they were or what they said.
“She implied that they had tortured him into forcing his demon back to his primitive state. Riley told us a little earlier, but we really don’t know much. He doesn’t recognise any of us, or even understand what we are saying, and he hasn’t shaken his demon off since he woke up.” She told all of this to Angel while gently stroking the vampiric grooves of Spike’s face, hoping the soothing tones of her voice would encourage him to feel secure with both her and Angel and to let go a little, allowing them to check out what else the Initiative had done to him.
Angel’s pensive gaze shimmered a little and he felt a sudden clarity. His eyes widened in hope as he bent down to kneel near them and tugged on Buffy’s hand to pull them into a similar position. Spike watched him warily, but made no move to pull away and Angel sighed in relief.
“It’s like she’s made his soul retreat to somewhere safe. She’s allowed the demon to take control. I don’t know how she could have taken away memory and knowledge to make him primeval, though.”
Buffy blinked. “But what can we do to fix him?”
Angel shuddered with hopelessness. He didn’t know what to tell her. Nothing like this had ever been done to a vampire before. And again, Spike was unique. If he wasn’t so worried he’d be…no, maybe not jealous, but…
“He tasted your blood?” Angel stared intently at her neck, his mind ticking over fast while trying to think of anything they could do to help the vampire.
“Yeah, he seemed to recognise me enough to stop mauling me. To not kill me.”
Angel nodded, feeling slightly broken at the strained tenor of her voice. “Right, so we need to bring his mind back. Maybe a renewal of the claim?…”
“Wh.-what about your blood? Maybe he would recognise that, too?”
Angel’s chocolate brown eyes glistened with hope and a willingness to try anything. Without word he curled his hand around the neck of his Childe and pulled his fangs to his neck. A commanding growl broke from his throat and vibrated against the demon lips of Spike, encouraging him to taste.
Without warning the elongated teeth sunk into his cold flesh and he pulled greedily on the blood. It tasted old, passionate and familiarfamily with remnant traces of the blood he had taken earlier of the girl shape. Growls of rage and jealousy erupted from his throat as he pushed the brunette abruptly from him. Angry eyes fixed onto Buffy and he was upon her, ripping her clothes in a frenzy of desperation. She was his and he needed to reassert his rights immediately.
He turned his head and growled like an enraged tiger at the hulking shape trying to get closer. To prevent his movement.
Clothing tore from the female body as he held her down, not registering her struggles. His leg pressed over her own, forcing her to hold still on the floor, and he began shedding his own clothing in a violent passion. Angel could barely watch, tears flowing from his shattered face as Spike took his naked woman in front of him, plunging his teeth into her neck again as he plunged his engorged cock into her and succumbing to a pace that was punishing. Branding his property. For his Sire to acknowledge. Angel dipped his head in acceptance.
Buffy was screaming, almost chanting the name, “Spike…” but he took no notice, the word meaning nothing to him. Her voice had little impact against her blood, which with each lengthy pull enchanted his senses and brought him a little closer to home. He continued to thrust as she quieted, and he felt her arms around his back, holding him to her as she sobbed loudly, but willing in hope. Soon, his body slowed and his long strokes became loving, rather than brutal and he felt almost sorry for the way he had forced her. He kissed her softly, his psyche aching for the viciousness he had subjected her to.
His mind became lost in a haze of blackness as he cried; he remembered nothing recognised nothing except for his home, and now he had hurt her. He whimpered in apology against her bloody throat, aware enough to withdraw his fangs as soon as the rhythm of her heart had changed. Her legs had drawn up around him and she held him tightly against her, whispering sounds against his ear that sounded sweet, knowing, loving. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, the solo pierce of a fang unintentional and withdrew at her small start of pain. Licking away the damage, he sunk into the bliss of his eventual arrival, and filled her with his seed. With an urgent knowledge just one word came to him, and he uttered it in relief.
“Love,” his voice whispered as he collapsed against her.
All was silent as watery tears and silence filled the room.
Buffy hit the floor in shock, not knowing or doing anything to prevent the forceful removal of her clothes. Her head was knocked to the side in the rush and she caught sight of a devastated Angel sitting back allowing Spike to rape her. ‘No,’ her mind objected. Though afraid, some part of her knew that this primal element of Spike was just being territorial. Too late did she make the connection that he might taste her essence within Angel’s blood, and react badly to it. Though the force conjured up ugly memories she remained still and allowed the possession to take place, still hoping that maybe this was what they needed to bring him back.
Screaming his name earlier had meant nothing to the out of control vampire, so she just held him, willing him to remember her, and to love her. She felt humiliated that Angel was watching her like this, but she had the feeling that human rules had flown out the window the second Spike had allowed his fangs to penetrate the skin of his Sire.
For one brief moment she had thought it was going to work. Spike’s eyes had lit with some recognition, probably knowing family, but then he had sensed something and dove at her, almost knocking her senseless in his rush to mount her.
She felt like a victim, and shuddered; giving in. But then his pounding had turned almost gentle in time with the rhythmic gulping of her blood. A tide was turned as he consumed her and she gasped feeling his tears run onto her skin. He sobbed against her and she couldn’t do anything but hold him to her, her love overriding misery in that small fraction of time.
Almost against her will she came, her body electrified and pulsing with possessive satiation. Her man, her vampire could do this to her, whether he was soulful or animal, he cared enough to hold her, to know her, and to please her. His pain broke her heart; he was the lost little boy they were struggling to find. Almost unaware now she was caught by a single piercing pain at her breast and she called out unknowing, and smiled sadly as he licked the blood from the tiny wound. She told him everything, how she loved him and was desperate for him to be back with her, whole. Her voice was soft as she stroked the muscular planes of his back, licking the shell of his ear.
She cried out once in relief as she felt him surge within her and then the wet rush of his fluid as it was released, bathing the insides of her canal. Her legs held him tight to her and her heart almost stopped when he uttered just one word.
“Love.”
And she sobbed around him with hope.
A/N...how did you go? Did you get through it? Please don't hate me...it gets better from now...the Initiative did screw him up remember...couldn't be all sweetness and light! Don't forget that review button to tell me exactly what you think of me for being such a bitch!