They seemed to get louder as each minute passed by which caused Spike to cringe at each yell Drusilla made while Buffy flinched at each yell Angelus made. He could hear her sobbing quietly next to him but he made no move to comfort her. He leaned against the headboard with his book, Ulysses, in hand, trying as hard as he could to block out the sounds being emitted from outside the door. The smell of fresh blood caused his fangs to elongate, causing him to bite his lip. He licked away the blood, cringing at the cold taste of it. He looked over at Buffy to find that she had fallen to sleep and the pillow soaked with her tears.
He sighed, closing his eyes as he placed his book on the nightstand next to the bed. The blood was getting to him, causing his thirst to grow. He looked over at Buffy, shaking his head as he pushed the thought of drinking from her away from out of his mind. He would just be giving into what they wanted and he didn’t want to give Angelus that pleasure. Hell no. Unless the bint offered it to him, which he highly doubted would ever happen, he wasn’t going to take one drop from her.
The sun would be rising in a few minutes and Buffy’s mother would wake to not finding her in bed in the morning. He looked over at the slayer again and with a sigh, looked away. He pulled off his boots, socks, and shirt, placing them on the floor next to the bed. He then turned off the lamp in the room. It was finally quiet meaning that Angelus and Drusilla had worn themselves out. He slipped between the covers, like Buffy had done earlier, and closed his eyes, hoping for one night of a dream instead of a nightmare.
Buffy awoke mid-afternoon to her stomach growling and an arm draped across her waist. She could feel hot breath fanning across her neck, which confused her greatly as vampires didn’t have to breathe. She could feel him nuzzling her shoulder as his arm tightened around her. She pulled at her chains, hoping to pull them out but found she could not. She sighed, closing her eyes as she inhaled. It was bad enough she was chained to a wall, but to have a vampire, one that wasn’t even souled, clinging onto her just seemed to make things worse. She hadn’t said a word since he slapped her earlier that night.
A clatter outside sounded, causing the vampire behind her to tense for a moment. Another clatter sounded, louder than the last and she could tell Spike was awake by the way he was growling against her neck. She laid still, her eyes closed, as the vampire pulled away. “I know you’re awake Buffy. Your stomach woke me up long before that clatter did,” he growled, obviously annoyed although he seemed more annoyed at the noise outside than at her for which she was grateful. She looked over to find him pulling his shirt on, covering the scars that littered his back from her prying eyes. He pulled the wheelchair over and pulled himself into it. He then wheeled himself over to the door and banged out of it. “Who’s out there!” he growled.
“It’s me, Mouth,” a voice called. Buffy looked at him in confusion.
“Fledging,” he replied to her look. “Mouth, get fruit and water and some blood too.”
“Yes, Mr. Spike,” the voice called again as his retreating footsteps sounded. Spike wheeled back over to the bed.
“Mouth’s kind of my servant, helps me move around the house. Only one smart enough to listen to me too. Once I’m out of this bloody chair, I’m gonna kill half of the minions here before Angelus can stop me. Kill the bastard too.”
“I thought you liked Angelus, him being your grand-sire and all,” she stated as she played with the shackles around her wrist.
“I did. He was my mentor. More of a sire than a grand-sire in reality. He was like the father I never had. But of course, you had to go and give him back to us more fucked up than before. Also, I wouldn’t be in this bloody chair if it weren’t for you!” he groaned as he pulled himself back onto the bed. “I could be out of this chair. I could be walking around.” He stopped sighing. What was the use in talking about it? It was done, she had crippled him, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Doesn’t matter. Mouth is getting us food. I have some books if you’re bored to keep you entertained,” he stated, rolling the wheelchair over to his trunk.
“Do you think I could get these off?” Buffy asked, holding out her wrists that were bound with shackles. He sighed, rolling over to her side of the bed before grabbing hold of the chains.
“I think I could get this off if both of us pulled on it. My legs might suck but I’ve still got strength in my arms. Promise me one thing though.”
“What?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. All she wanted was to get out of the chains and away from the vampire in front of her.
“Help me walk again,” he stated simply. She seemed to think about for a good minute before nodding her head. A smirk graced his lips as he gripped the chains while Buffy did the same. “Alright then, one, two, three, pull!” Both pulled, using their upper body weight as they did. Sure enough, the chains gave way and snapped out of the wall, flinging Buffy back on the bed while Spike stayed happily seated in his chair, unmoved by the jolt. He smiled, watching as she got up from the bed and grabbed a knife that had been sitting atop the dresser, picking her shackles. Soon, the shackles and chains fell to the ground with a clatter and the slayer was holding her wrists in her hands, rubbing the sore red flesh.
“Thanks,” she said with a smile, picking up the chains and placing them on the trunk. “Now, let’s get you walking so I can get out of here and go home.”
Spike yelled for the tenth time as he fell into the slayers arms, his legs giving out underneath him yet again. He was angry; frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get across the room without collapsing into the slayers arm like some weakling. “Talk about dead weight,” Buffy mumbled as she pulled Spike onto his feet, only to have him slip out of her arms and crumple to the floor. He growled as Buffy sat down next to him, her back leaning up against the bed.
“Shut up,” he growled as he grabbed the sheets of the bed, moving to pull himself up and try again. Buffy looked up at him, shaking her head.
“You should stop. You keep going at it, you’re going to strain yourself and become weaker than before. You need rest.” Buffy wiped the sweat off her forehead, grimacing at it before rubbing her hand on her jeans. “And I need a shower and new clothes. I feel all sticky,” she stated, sticking her tongue out.
“I’m not weak. A master vampire is never weak,” Spike growled, settling himself on the bed. He flopped backwards, wrinkling his nose at the smell of her sweat. “And you do need a shower. There’s a bathroom through that door right there. The water’s cold but you’ll be clean. As for new clothes, I don’t know what you can do.” Buffy stood, nodding as she walked over to the dresser, opening one of the drawers and rifling through Spike’s clothes. “Oi! What do you think you’re doing?” Spike growled as he sat up, leaning back on his elbows.
“Are black jeans and t-shirts all you have?” Buffy asked, her brows creasing into a frown.
“No. In the trunk over there are some old shirts from the 1800s. You could wear one of those I suppose,” he stated, glaring. Buffy closed the drawer, walking over to the trunk and popping it open. She looked at the objects in the trunk, old keepsakes from days long past. She lightly ran her fingertips over a leather bound book, pulling it out and opening it to a random page.
Spike eyes her back, watching as she rifled through the old trunk. When he heard the crack of a book opening, he sat up fully. “What do you think you’re doing, Slayer?” he growled angrily as she quickly dropped the book on the floor and faced him. His eyes widened in shock as he found that she had been looking at his old book of poems. Flecks of gold sparkled in his eyes as he held his hand out. “Give me that.” She nodded, handing the book to him, which he snatched from her quickly. “Get the shirt and take the shower.” She nodded, quickly pulling the shirt out of the trunk, slamming the top shut, and rushing to the bathroom to escape his heavy gaze.
When she closed the door behind her, Spike let out a loud sigh, flopping back on the bed, the book clutched tightly in his fingers. He heard the shower start and her small yelp of surprise at how cold it was.
He scooted up the bed until his back was resting against the headboard as he then flipped open the book. His eyes scanned the neat scrawl, his eyes narrowing into slits and his frown deepening with every word that he read. Memories of harsh words and cruel laughter flooded his mind, reminding him of the world he had left behind. He slammed the book shut, closing his eyes as he took deep unneeded breaths. He didn’t want to remember. He never wanted to remember. He then pulled open the drawer of the side table and placed the book in, closing it before lying back in bed and closing his eyes.
Buffy ran her fingers through her wet head, trying to rid it of some of the tangles, as she looked at herself in the dirt-plastered mirror in front of her. The shirt that she wore hung down to her knees, the sleeves longer as it seemed to swallow her whole. She wished she had some pants and new underwear but realized that in the situation she was in, she was lucky that Spike gave her the shirt in the first place.
She sighed, closing her eyes before she reentered the room where she found Spike laying on the bed with his eyes closed and the book hidden from sight. She softly padded her way across the room, coming to sit on the opposite side of the bed.
Spike opened his eyes to find her sitting with her back to him. The shirt clung to her wet body as her hair fell down in messy clumps. She smelt like him, which made sense since she most likely used his soap and shampoo. “Feel all clean now, princess?” he drawled as he returned his gaze to the ceiling above him.
He felt her shift on the bed, now looking at him as she nodded silently. “Who’s W.C?” she asked. Spike sighed, closing his eyes before opening them again and looking at her.
“No one. He’s dead.” Buffy nodded, looking away before looking back at Spike, staring at him. Spike sighed, knowing she wouldn’t stop staring until she got a straight answer. “William Crawford. That was his name. Now, no more questions and get some sleep. You’re going to need it later on tonight when Dru and the poofster start going at it again.” Buffy nodded, slipping under the covers, turning away from him.
“Goodnight, Spike,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Spike looked at her surprised, listening as her breathing slowed and her heart fell into a steady rhythm. A smile graced his lips as he did the same and curled up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She turned in her sleep, her head resting against his chest.
“Goodnight, Buffy,” he whispered before falling asleep with her.