Even though he trusted Buffy to a certain extent, Spike hesitated once they were outside of the apartment. Pulling the hood further over his head, he inched his hand into a beam of sunlight, feeling the warmth as it tingled his flesh. Seeing no flames erupt, he stepped fully into the sun and joined her as she stood off to the side with a lop-sided grin on her face.
“Thought I was bluffing, didn’t you?” she accused gently.
“Bit out of my element, pet, can’t blame a bloke for bein’ suspicious,” he responded as they began walking towards campus.
Giving him a small smile with a nod, she quietly said, “I suppose I deserve that, after everything that we’ve been through.”
Fidgeting because he was uncomfortably warm in the hoodie, he glanced sideways at her pensive expression. “I’m just lucky you or your Scoobies didn’t hand me over to the demon brigade when the chance presented itself.”
“We didn’t?”
“Shall I recount last night, when Red was starin’ down with Captain America, how she saved my arse by shovin’ me out the back door, even pissed as she was?”
Her eyes widened. “Willow did that?”
“Prevented the git from comin’ after me, too.”
“Huh, who’da thunk?”
“My point exactly.”
Cringing a bit, she peeked at him, hoping he’d tell her she hadn’t been a complete bitch to him. “And… uhm, what did I do?”
Patting his pockets for a cigarette, he found one and lit up, inhaling the soothing nicotine. “Got shit-faced and probably…” He stopped before his foot could be inserted any further into his mouth.
Of course she wouldn’t let it drop. “Probably what?”
Rounding a corner, he kept his mouth tightly shut and his mind blessedly blank, hoping the awkward feeling rising within him would dissipate. He’d been about to say that she probably snogged the entire team, but thought that unlikely, even drunk as she became. And, she didn’t remember much from last night, so who was he to remind her of their own intimate snogging session?
They were silent for a few blocks, but eventually Buffy’s curiosity got the better of her. “What was it like… being in the Army lab?”
His face immediately shut down as he flicked the extinguished butt on the ground. “You should know, Slayer, you’re shaggin’ one of `em,” he commented bitterly.
“What? I’m not shagging anyone! The last shag I had was that day you painfully reminded me what an idiot I was in the love department!” she yelled and stomped ahead of him. Apparently I’m not worth even the one shag, she thought as tears misted her eyes.
Poncey bugger, look what you did, he admonished himself. Both of them had stopped in front of the Espresso Pump, hearing what the other was thinking.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, refusing to look her in the eyes.
Saying nothing, she went inside the café and stood at the counter, ready to order.
Growling to himself, he seemed like he was forever saying he was sorry for one thing or another, and it was getting tiresome. Heartily sick of being at the whims of fate, he closed his eyes and just breathed deeply, toying with an idea that’d presented itself. It was daylight and he had the Gem, what more could he ask for? Would the hardware in his head fire if he wore the ring?
To test his theory, he scanned the crowd while the lovely Happy Meals went along their merry way, begging to be eaten. One particularly plump morsel strode by and winked at him, making him turn his head and start to follow. A severe blow to his skull stopped his predatory urges.
“Spike! What are you doing?” Buffy shouted in astonishment.
“Gah!” he screamed as he grabbed his head in his hands, slumping to the ground in an epileptic fit.
He went limp after five seconds of convulsions, blood trickling from his nose. Afraid she’d gone too far, she bent down and grabbed him under his arms, dragging him into the alley behind the café. Propping him up, she noticed the blood making its way down his neck, cringing in fear at the extent of the damage. Concern warred with caution as she pulled back the hood to find the source of the blood, tracing it all the way to his ear.
“Oh God,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”
“`S matter Slayer? No, no no… not two, not two of yoush,” he slurred as his head lolled to the side.
“C’mon, Spike, can you stand?” she pleaded as she tried to pull him to an upright position.
“J’know rainbows are doughnut-shape when viewed from above?” he offered, bracing himself against the brick wall, eyes still unfocused.
“Hmm, didn’t know,” she answered absentmindedly as she kept him in a vertical stance. As long as he was talking, it was a good sign.
“Snakes are immune to their own venom… ssssss,” he hissed at her.
She watched him as he stood by himself now, one arm holding onto the dumpster, the other clutching her forearm in a white-knuckled grip.
“In her films, Shirley Temple always had fifty-six curls in her hair,” he giggled somewhat manically, clutching at his bowed head, weaving back and forth slightly.
“Oh my God,” she whispered in horror.
“Experts say if you go without sleep for ten days straight, you’ll die!” he screamed at the sky. “I’m already fuckin’ dead, you wankers, come and get me!”
He stumbled away from her and into the middle of the alley, muttering to himself like a deranged mental patient. “If there are ten books on a bookshelf, they can be arranged in three-million, six-hundred twenty-eight thousand, eight-hundred ways.”
“I’m so sorry, Spike… so sorry,” she whispered as she followed him at a small distance to keep him from harm, but not interfering.
“Blood… blood travels sixty-thousand miles a day as it circulates through the human body,” he mumbled as he turned back towards her. He straightened somewhat and began creeping along the wall, as if to avoid the sun.
“All three of Christopher Columbus’s ships were originally named for Barcelona prostitutes.”
“Spike,” she said with unease. “Let me help you.”
“Napoleon’s writing was so illegible that many of his letters were mistaken for battlefield maps,” he garbled as he leapt from the shadows and into the sunlight near Buffy.
“Spike, please… trust me,” she begged as she held out her hand to him.
“Here lies young Ezekiel Height, died from jumping Jim Smith’s claim. Didn’t happen at the mining site, the claim he jumped was Jim Smith’s dame.” He laughed as he twirled around Buffy.
Enough was enough. She grabbed him during one of his twirls and kept him still in front of her, holding his hands tightly, afraid he would wander off again. “Stay… with me, please?” she requested quietly, gazing hard into this eyes.
He returned the grip on her hands and bent down to whisper in her ear. “Four things that kill germs… bleach, alcohol, sunshine, and tears.” He let go of one hand and tried to pull the ring off his left. “Kill me, Buffy, have mercy and kill me.”
“NO!” she screamed, preventing him from removing the Gem. “Spike, come on, lets just go and sit down for a bit, okay?”
As if clouds were suddenly pierced with sunshine, Spike’s eyes grew less foggy… less manic. “Buffy?” he groaned.
“Spike!” she said with relief. Without thinking, she grabbed him into a bone crushing bear hug, crying that she was sorry for hitting him on the head again.
He was shaking and unsteady so he clung to her like a life preserver. “What’s happening to me?” he whimpered, tears clogging his throat.
“I don’t know, but we’ll get those bastards, I promise. We’ll get them to fix you,” she swore vehemently, stroking the hair on the back of his head in a soothing gesture.
“If they fix me, Slayer, you’ll have to kill me,” he reminded her.
She stopped stroking his head and leaned away from him. “Let’s take it one day at a time, okay? We’ll look at the options once we know what they are.”
“Yeah, sure, Slayer,” he agreed lightly. But he knew. In the end, he could only hope he was sane enough to be aware that the Slayer had vanquished him.
“How are you feeling? Do you want to go back to Giles’?” she asked as she took out a wet nap from her purse and began wiping away the now crusted blood from his face and ear.
Brushing off her ablutions like a child with his mother, he said, “No, I’m good. Give me a minute to get myself sorted and I’ll be right as rain.”
Cheeks tingeing crimson from embarrassment, she gave him a nod as she backed away and left him in the middle of the alley by himself. Walking around the corner, she sat at one of the little tables situated outside of the Pump and waited, guilt assaulting her conscience.
Spike watched her leave and sighed heavily. He shielded his thoughts as much as he could. Got to hold it together mate or you’re gonna be looney tunes. Poor Dru. Know what she was on about now. Sorry, my wicked plum.
Bending low, he gazed into a puddle of water, casting no reflection. Feeling blood drip from his ear and make its way across his cheek, he dug around in his jeans pocket for a slip of fabric, dipping it into the hazy water and started cleaning his face. Why is this happening to me? Why does she care about what happens to me? I’m so hungry, so tired, so alone. He gazed at the alley wall, seeing nothing.
Enough feelin’ sorry for yourself mate, it’ll get you nowhere but dead, well even more dead than you already are. Got a promise to keep to a lady. And no matter what you show the world, you are still that gentleman prat William.
Grimacing, he stood slowly, listening to the music as it started wafting from the radio station in the back part of the alley. It was faint but he could hear the words as they filtered through his mind.
Show me what it's like
To be the last one standing
And teach me wrong from right
And I'll show you what I can be
Say it for me
Say it to me
And I'll leave this life behind me
Say it if it's worth saving me.
Bitter tears filled his eyes as his head drooped, letting them fall freely for once. Not worth savin’… not worth it to her.
Around the corner, Buffy’s tears silently fell as she listened to his agonized thoughts. Maybe it was stress or pressure, maybe it was one knock too many… but she realized something as she wiped her cheeks of the fresh tears that wouldn’t stop. Spike’s mental shield was gone.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I will eventually get to the exam Buffy has to take, but I had to introduce this little bit to explain some stuff that will happen during the exam. Song lyrics are from Nickelback's "Savin Me," which I highly recommend you watch on YOUTUBE (there's a Spuffy version). Thanks to Zoe, Mary, Vara, Sotia (you're so Boffy) - you guys keep me going with your incessant demands and constant nagging...LOL! **Any and all facts come from the series "Uncle John's Bathroom Reader" which is full of trivial knowledge!**