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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you for the reviews... yes chapter 7 was a very dark chapter, but I promise Spike is going to try and be a good boy... his world was just dumped over and he's going to have to work for redemption
Chapter 8
Spike woke up with a start. He reached over the bed only to encounter cold sheets. Spike sat up and looked around the room. The sun had started to peek its golden head through the blinds of the window. He stumbled out into the living room, buck naked as he frantically searched for Buffy. Moving from room to room, Spike started to panic. Had he just pushed her over the edge? Was she gone? He went into the spare room that she used as a studio, he found a wet canvas and felt relief. She wasn’t gone. She wouldn’t have started a canvas if she were leaving. Spike went back into the living room, trying to find some clue at where Buffy had gone. Sitting next to the phone was her personal phone book flipped to the XYZ section. One entry adorned the page: Christoph Zambockwitz: special coordinator, Sunnydale Ice Rink, 555-9697. Remembering seeing her skates the previous day, Spike quickly went to the closet that Clem had found yesterday to check. They were gone. Buffy must be at the rink. Yesterday when Clem found them, he commented he had seen Buffy skate at a competition a while ago and that she was quite good.



Spike dressed rapidly in the same clothes he had worn yesterday and grabbed his car keys. He drove through an unfamiliar part of town, looking for the building that held the ice rink. Finally, finding the building, he parked and went in. Soft music piped through the speakers as Spike stepped into the arena. On the ice, Buffy gracefully glided past with one leg extended behind her. The shallow arc of her blade turned her direction. Her eyes were closed as she communed with the ice, instinctively knowing where the edge of the rink was. Her long hair floated behind her as she moved away from his position. She picked up speed to head down to the other side of the rink. She wore dark skin tight pants and purple workout top. Her skates were white with a glint of sharp steel edge underneath. Spike sat down on the bleachers as he watched her practice, unaware of his presence. Her face was flushed pink from the cold and stress of working out. He watched as she positioned herself for a salchow, landing perfectly. If she noticed his presence, she didn’t show it. She kept skating from one end of the rink to the next performing a couple different jumps and maneuvers Spike didn’t know the name of. She slowed her speed, and rested her hand on her knees as she cooled down. Twisting, Buffy relaxed her muscles as she continued to make slow laps around the rink. Over the sound system, Spike heard a cough, “Getting better, Buffy. Going to have to work on that double axle going into the salchow. I don’t think your ankle is strong enough yet, it keeps wobbling.” Buffy looked up into a lighted booth and smiled. Her teeth were bright and if Spike didn’t know better, she would look like she had no worries. But, he did know better and he knew he was the cause of one very big one. “Meet you in the weight room in fifteen.” She gave the man in the lighted booth a thumbs up and continued to slow her pace. She practiced hopping from foot to foot, changing the blade that was on the ice.



She came near to his position and suddenly said, “Aren’t you bored yet? How did you find me?” She skated away, but looked back to where he sat.



Spike got up and walked over to the small door to the rink and leaned against the wall. His hands buried deep into the pockets of his black leather duster as he watched her come back. He shrugged, “How long have you known I was here?”



Stopping a few feet out on the ice she put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side, “Well, if you were trying to hide your arrival, you didn’t succeed.”



Spike’s face broke out in a grin. “Yeah, love, I didn’t try to hide. I saw your address book opened, wasn’t very hard to figure out.” Spike stepped carefully out onto the ice, trying to come towards her. He needed to feel her, if just for one brief second. Buffy smiled flirtatiously and started to skate backwards. “Come here, pet.”



She looked around the rink making sure no one saw her and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.” It was time to take some dignity back. She pushed harder and flew back a couple more feet. Spike kept stepping closer, trying to maintain balance on the slippery floor. She watched as he struggled to come towards her. A small giggle wanted to bubble up inside her. He was on her turf and she was going to win this round.



“Please, pet. I need to touch you.” Spike started to run towards her, thinking she was playing a game. Suddenly, Spike found himself falling forward and smacking his body onto the ice. “Umph.”



Buffy cautiously skated around his prone body, far out of arms distance. Spike sat up and rubbed his forehead, watching her circle him. A little voice inside her asked, ‘how could she let him do that last night?’ She should have fought harder, longer. She should have, but she didn’t. “I hate you, you know?” The venom in her voice startled Spike. He looked at her face and saw nothing but disgust. “What you did last night… it was disgusting.”



Spike reached his hand out, wanting her to stop the dizzying motion. “Stop! I can’t talk to you while you bloody circle me like that!” Buffy stopped her movement, but stayed far away from him. Spike struggled to stand up, “Look, I… I messed up last night, right? I just lost it, Buffy. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”



Buffy’s frown deepened, “You still did, William, and I’ll never forgive you.” She started to slowly back away from him. He almost didn’t hear her say, “I’ll never forgive myself.” Turning back towards him, she said loud enough for him to hear, “I have to go weight train. Be gone when I get back.” She stepped off the ice and affixed the guard to the bottom of her skate. Spike stood out on the ice for minutes after she left, just staring after her. She had slipped through his fingers again.



~*~*~

Buffy walked slowly through the town of Sunnydale. Dawn was manning the gallery, insisting Buffy was in a bad mood and needed to go home. Buffy didn’t want to go home. Spike was at home, the bed was at home, and she didn’t want to face either one. She turned the corner, heading into a dark ally that separated two main streets of Sunnydale. Barely looking where she was going, Buffy passed a group of bikers hanging out near the backdoor to a bar. She didn’t notice when a man started to following her. She almost made it to the opening on the other side, but she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, “Where you going, doll face?”



Buffy turned around and was faced with a hulky giant standing in front of her. Standing well over six foot, he had tattoos and various piercings throughout his uncovered flesh. Wanting to gag, Buffy looked the stranger in the eye, “Home.”



She turned around and was five feet from the street, when her body flew against the brick wall. Struggling to get up, Buffy felt a fist connect with her jaw. “Think you’re better than me?” The man kicked her in her stomach. “Can’t talk to me?” He punched her again. “Next time you might want to be nicer.” The other bikers came up and pulled the man off of Buffy, telling him that was enough. The group walked back into the bar, leaving Buffy bleeding and supported by the wall.



Struggling to stand up, Buffy looked around. People didn’t even notice her or the attack. Tears ran down her face as she felt her ribs, at least one was cracked. She started to walk towards the gallery; it was only a few blocks away.



Buffy stepped into the back door into her workroom. Dawn heard her come in and came into the back. She saw the bruises and cuts on Buffy’s face. Gasping, Dawn quickly dialed Buffy’s doctor; she knew Buffy would refuse to go to the hospital. Buffy sat on her workbench, holding her ribs when the doctor came in. Dawn stayed out in the main shop as the doctor examined Buffy. The doctor started wrap up Buffy’s ribs when Spike walked into the outer gallery shop Dawn glanced up and noticed him, “Hey Nibblet, is Buffy in?”



Dawn looked at Spike and noticed the bruise on his forehead from the ice. She knew that Spike moved into Buffy’s apartment and they had a fight the first night he was there. Buffy was in too much of a bad mood for it to have gone well. Dawn also surmised that they couldn’t be in a real relationship. Buffy never lived with anyone after she moved out of Hank’s house. It just didn’t make sense that Buffy would allow a man to move in with her after a few weeks. “She’s in the back with the doctor.” Dawn watched as Spike dashed into the back of the store. She wondered if Spike was the one that beat Buffy up, but dismissed the idea as soon as it entered her mind. His fists didn’t look bruised and he looked genuinely startled when she told him about the doctor.



Whatever Spike expected when he went into the backroom, it didn’t prepare him for what he did see. Sitting on the workbench, a bruised and battered Buffy sat with an ice pack against the right side of her head. Her shirt was off, but she still had a sports bra underneath from her earlier workout. Another female stood in front of her with bandages, wrapping her torso up. He saw Buffy wince as the other woman continued to pull the bandages tighter. Spike assumed she was Buffy’s doctor. “You OK, love?” Spike stepped closer as Buffy looked at him with cold, scared eyes.



Her eyes narrowed and she mumbled over the ice pack. “Got attacked. I’m fine.” She looked away, not wanting to ruin the illusion she was supposed to create. “Nothing to worry about.” The doctor grunted with disagreement but finished wrapping up her up anyway.



Spike looked over at the doctor and knew Buffy would play her part so he stepped closer to her. Gently, he took the ice pack away from her face. Her eye was swollen shut and a deep gash below it oozed a little blood out of it. He replaced the ice, holding it to her face, “Who did this?”



Buffy looked up at him when she heard the rough tone of his voice. “I don’t know.” The doctor started to clean up the supplies and let the two talk. Buffy could tell Spike didn’t believe her, “Seriously, I don’t. One moment, I’m walking down an alley between Main and Vine, the next thing I am up against a wall.”



“Which alley?” She could feel the anger rolling off of him.



Buffy took a glance at the doctor still in the room and whispered, “The one behind Willy’s, but Spike, please, leave it be. I’m alright.”



Spike stepped closer, practically on top of her now, “Buffy, they hurt you.” She saw his jaw clenching and the steel in his eyes as he tried to reign in his anger.



“Spike, please. I don’t want to deal with it. Just got knocked around a bit…been through worse.” She gave him a pointed look, reminding her he did worse last night.



Spike stepped back; the blow of her words hit him straight in his gut. “Buffy, look love.” She sent a scathing look his way, but sat quietly because the doctor was in the room. “I care about you. Deep down here.” Spike pounded his fist into his chest. “All I see is you. I’m drowning in you, Summers.” He took her hand in his. “No one touches what is mine.” Spike looked earnestly into her eyes as the doctor left and begged her, “Please, who did this?”



Their eyes met. Tears rolled off her face as Spike gathered her up, holding her firmly against his chest, letting her cry. It broke his heart, listening to her tears of sorrow. They were like daggers through his soul. The pain on her outside didn’t even come close to the turmoil inside her. Being held in his arms felt like sweet torture. On the one hand she craved his tender, comforting touch but on the other, she was mortified that she allowed her rapist to touch her like this. His hands slowly caressed her back, encouraging her to let her pain out. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to the sweet persona that Spike was sporting. Everything in his body language and eyes told volumes of his understanding. But, the nagging voice inside her head reminded her of the previous night. Buffy couldn’t help it. This man holding her was such an enigma: anger, jealousy, compassion, and possessiveness all rolled up into one man. The sobs subsided and her emotions rolled up into a ball, ready to be put away in her mind. She became aware of the low humming coming from Spike as he held her. It sounded like a sad, yet soothing, lullaby. The last of her tears rolled off her face and onto Spike’s shirt. Her breathing, still irregular, was calming down. She felt Spike shift, making it easier for him to support her weight. His hands still stroked her back. She became aware of her fingers clutching Spike’s shirt, crushing the fabric between her digits. She relaxed her hands, letting his shirt go. Buffy pulled away while she smoothed the crinkled fabric on his chest.



No words passed between the two. Spike backed away towards the front area of the gallery. A few moments later, he came back to Buffy and picked her up like a damsel in distress. He quickly strode out the back door and into the alley where he had parked his black car.



Buffy fell asleep on the way home, her energy and emotions were spent. Spike carefully carried her up to the apartment and tucked her into the bed. He quietly left the room, letting her rest. It was time for him to go into action. He’d make sure that she was safe from now on.

TBC





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