“You either tell your friends about us…or I will,” the vampire noted sternly before turning his back on the sickly Slayer, who stared in anguish at the doorway from where he'd vanished. Spike moved towards the top of the stairs slowly, as the regret began to kick in. Of course, what he had said merited some truth. You're addicted to the misery. It's why you won't tell your pals about us. Might actually have to be happy if you did. No, scratch that, a lot of truth. Playing the conversation in his head only incurred more frustration, but he couldn’t help himself. What was it she had said?
You need to leave me alone. You’re not part of my life.
She was the most irritating chit he’d ever known, it was part of the reason he loved her so much, and just as much the reason he hated her. God, he wished he could carry out the threat he made of telling her friends about them. If he wasn’t on Buffy’s bloody leash, he would blurt it out to all of them just to spite her. He was, in fact, evil. It might do some good, couldn’t worsen things for him any. The Slayer’s pals already hated his undead guts, not much more they could hate. Yeah, might get a beating or two from the unpleasant Slayer herself, but that was nothing new. Spike, more or less, expected a thumbs-up from the witches and kid sis. Though, the whelp would always resent him no matter what he did, and it’s not like Spike gave two pisses about what he thought anyway.
As the war inside his head raged on, another thought fought its way to the surface just as he started down the stairs. Something Red had told him before striding out of Buffy’s room. Make sure she drinks all that. The antidote, brewed specially, for curing the Slayer’s funny-farm delusions.
Forcing back a groan, he turned back and walked to the open door at the end of the hall, not wanting to relive what happened a matter of seconds ago. Shaking his head hard enough to, hopefully, knock his thoughts right out. Right then. Just make sure the Slayer downed her drink like a good li’l girl, an’ then you can go. Just as his head poked around the door frame, he caught the last glimpse of the mug’s contents being poured to the bottom of the trash basket. The last drop of the clear liquid fell from the rim while Buffy stared straight ahead as another hallucination captured her mind.
****
No matter the actual temperature, there was always a cold chill in hospitals. Along with the creepy sterile feeling, goose bumps and shivers seemed to come naturally in medical facilities. Though this wasn’t a hospital, Buffy couldn’t seem to get warm, what with wearing just a flimsy patient gown. No, she knew good and well where she was, and why wouldn’t she? She had been in this mental institution for six years now, but it was finally time to leave.
Puffy red eyes looked up at Joyce and Hank, tear streaks burned into her cheeks, “I don’t wanna go back there. I wanna be healthy again.” Her mother’s hopeful smile pained her but gave her strength to fight her illness. Maybe once she returned to normal, everything would be okay again. She could have the one big happy family who went to the movies, played board games, and ate home cooked dinners. The pain and suffering that came with being the Slayer wouldn’t affect her life anymore. With this new found vigor she turned to the doctor, “What do I have to do?”
****
By the way she was transfixed on the bedroom wall; Spike wagered she was visiting her twisted delusion land once again. Frowning a bit, he turned his head slightly, looking over his right shoulder, “Uh, Willow?” There was no answer so he tried again, louder, “Willow!”
The master bedroom door slowly opened as Willow came walking out with an awkward smile with raised eyebrows. “Did it work? The anti-crazy potion? Is she her Buffy self?”
“Nuttier than ever, I‘d say.”
“Huh?”
“Take a looksy luv.” Taking a step back he pointed into Buffy’s room, “Caught her dumpin’ out her cure jus’ before another episode.”
“Makes sense. Why would Buffy wanna stay here when she could be someplace where I don’t even exist?” Dawn added with folded arms from her spot in Willow’s room. It’s not as if she was expecting an answer, putting it in the air as a way for her to get out her annoyance and teenage angst. Still, when her question went ignored by the two in the hall, she couldn’t help but huff and stomp off to her room, slamming the door behind her.
After the Drama Queen‘s show, Willow let out a sigh. She loved Dawn, even thought of her as a little sister, but the girl was always over the top when it came to her emotions. While trying to tell her everything was going to be okay with her older sister, Dawn had the patented, pissed off and pouting look. The kind small children gave their parents after being told they weren’t allowed to have candy in the check-out line at the grocery store.
“The Bit’s jus’ worried is all. Already lost Big Sis once,” he explained, then added a bit softer, and drenched with worry, “Don’ want it happenin’ again.”
Looking up at desperate eyes, gently smiling at the platinum blond, she couldn’t help her heart from swelling at the way this supposed to be evil thing, loved her best friend with as much fervor than any one person could have. Tara and she had finally come to the realization that Spike, vampire or not, truly was in love with Buffy. After Buffy jumped, sacrificing herself to save the world, Spike spent every day in mourning, and every night beside her gravestone in Restfield Cemetery. She had caught him a few times when on patrol with the Scooby gang, sitting in the neatly cut grass, lit only by the moonlight, talking to her. Trying to be respectful of his privacy, she didn’t linger, but overheard what sounded like a poem being read off a crumpled piece of paper. Since then, there was no doubt that demons had the ability to love with their body and lack of soul.
They would get Buffy back to tip top, quip making, shape, but first they had to apparently force the antidote down her throat. Making an already kooky Slayer angry didn’t seem to brighten the witch's hopes any. A worried face peered into the room, “I’ll have to make more… Spike? Can you?” Cutting herself off, she turned promptly and set out to extract more of the demons poison. The vampire in question nodded quickly at her indication, immediately heading down the stairs to assist the witch in holding the Glarghk Guhl Kashmas'nik demon in place.
The creature was growling and thrashing right where they left it, chained to the post in the basement. Each powerful attempt to break free from imprisonment caused bits of dirt and dust to fall from the ceiling joists. Not in a mood to play games, Spike walked straight up to the monster, leaning back on his left leg and swiftly kicking him in the chest. The force caused the demons waxy head to bang against the wooden pillar, but otherwise seemed not to faze him. A live punching bag was always something Spike enjoyed thoroughly.
“Ok, hold him still, or you know, mildly squirming,” Willow directed as she slid on the rubber gloves from before and came forward with her tool.
“Right,” he responded with a sharp nod. Grabbing the demon by the shoulders and shoving hard before pushing him up against the column to hold in place. “Hurry up Red. Stick your fork in em’, and let’s be done with it. Can’t bloody hold on forever you know!”
As if his words caused her actions, the girl raised her hand, slamming the two pronged fork into the demon's arm, triggering the poison spine to shoot out on command. “Okay, got it! Now, I just have to rip it off, like a really hard band aid.”
The demon managed to shove Willow away in the next instant, sending her to the ground. Spike‘s head turned to the floor where Willow was getting back to her feet, but was bucked away himself. Stumbling backwards a bit, snarling he morphed into his own demon side. The chained demon raised his arm as Spike tried to charge him, skewering his stomach. Barely recognizing the git had stabbed him, Spike reached down and pulled the stick free from his flesh, ripping it out of the monsters arm with a roar. Lunging with outstretched hands, the vampire got a strong grip on its head and yanked sideways. Multiple cracks filled the air before the strain on the chain lessened and the bulking body went limp, sagging against the post with lifelessness.
The witch reached a hand out to the blonds’ shoulder, “Are you okay?”
His clenched jaw twitched as he turned to face her, examining the injury on his stomach, “Yeah, jus’ a flesh wound. I’ll be fine,” looking down at the demon part in her hand, “That what you needed?” Eyes drifting back to the body beside him, “Cause’ I don’ think our friend here can be of much use anymore.”
Slightly risen brows and a crooked smile rose to the girl's face as she followed Spike’s gaze, “Probably not, since you decided to kill him.”
“That’s somethin' I think I can live with," he mumbled before turning back to Willow and shaking out his demon visage, "How long?"
"Not very. I still have everything in the kitchen from earlier. Should be done in a jiff!" Responding with a bright perky smile.
Nodding to the stairway, "Well, let’s get crackin' luv. The sooner we get this bloody mess over with, the better." And the sooner I can go beat something to a withering pulp, he added silently.
Willow went trotting up the wooden stairs, suddenly stopping in mid step before reaching the top, “Oh! But, except-”
“Except what?” His temper rising once more. Patience was not Spikes best virtue.
“It poked you too... well, more like made a kabob outta you-”
She was babbling. Trying to control his tone of voice, “Point. Red.”
“You’re probably infected too. I’ll make brew for two!” Giggling at her fun little rhyme, and stepping into the kitchen to begin.
The moment Willow vanished from sight, Spike let out a deep breath putting his hand to his abdomen, pressing some, as the slight pressure relieved the pain. Doesn’t matter what he had said, doesn’t matter who you are, having a hole through your gut, hurt like a bitch. He wasn’t lying when he said it’d be fine, it would, but it takes time, even for a person with super strength. The bleeding had stopped already, but it’d be tender for at least a day. So far, he didn’t feel any different and wasn’t having any moments of hallucinating space-outs, but Willow seemed to think he still needed some of that magic tea for insurance purposes. Collecting himself, he straightened and took the stairs two at a time, so that he could face the real problem at hand, Buffy.