‘Can you hear me?’ Buffy sent to Spike via telepathy as she watched him shut off the shower tap. Waiting for his response, she pulled her fluffy towel tighter across her chest.
Noticing no reaction, she looked sadly at him once he turned around and stepped out of the tub. The air was so heavy with steam from their marathon shower sex that she could barely see him. It fogged every reflective surface and left a thin film of moisture on everything in the bathroom.
Spike caught her forlorn look and mistakenly assumed she was regretting what they had just shared, looking away from where she stood at the sink counter. Instead, he concentrated his attention on the towel he snagged off the rack, wrapping it around the lower half of his body, clenching his jaw to keep his emotions at bay. He was so busy with tucking the corner of the towel into the gap at his waist that he never realized Buffy was near him, until she gently laid her fingers on his fidgety hands.
Spike stilled at once, but didn’t look at her until she touched his cheek with her hand, and forced his face to tilt up and look at her. Even then, he kept his eyes closed, willing the rejection away, the disgust, the pain, the…look of adoration? Spike had risked opening his eyes to see the truth and was taken aback at what he beheld. He cocked his head to the side and studied the soft gaze she had directed at him.
She looked happy, dare he say, even content? Spike swallowed, and Buffy watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. Stupid vampire, doesn’t need to breathe, why does he keep doing that? To prove that he’s more human than most humans came the unbidden thought and she wondered if he could read her mind once more. Seeing nothing to indicate that this was the case, she sighed heavily and pulled Spike towards the mirror, turning him to face it as he stood next to her.
“Why can’t I read your mind?” Buffy wrote on the steamy mirror with her finger. Even though it was a large mirror, she wrote as small as she could, so that they could have enough space to write their messages.
“Had Red remove spell,” Spike wrote, which was kinda eerie, as he had no reflection and the words just seemed to appear like ghostly handwriting.
Buffy’s jaw hung open. “But why?”
“Didn’t fancy hearing about you and Peaches. Didn’t want my thoughts to spill over about him,” Spike wrote and stepped away from the mirror. He certainly didn’t want to hear about Mr. Broody the Great now that he’d had a taste of Buffy…it would make Spike as miserable as the bastard himself, and he might take up brooding just to avoid the whole mess.
Buffy tugged him back to the sink and held him in place with one hand and wrote with the other. “I wasn’t even thinking about him! I was worried about you!”
Spike looked away once more and clenched his jaw. He didn’t know if he should be touched that she was trying to make him feel better, or angry that she pitied him. He settled on neither, since his head was setting up with another resounding ache that started in his frontal lobe behind his eyes.
Buffy watched as Spike’s pallor grew even more pale than usual, a heavy worry settling deep in her soul that he was on the verge of dustiness because of the damned chip. He closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the worst of the intense pain, but it only mildly helped. Buffy grasped his hand and squeezed, causing him to open his eyes and look at her in the mirror.
She smiled tremulously. “We’ll get those bastards, get them to fix you!” she wrote with a determined set to her lips.
Spike smiled weakly and slightly nodded, never dwelling too much on the what ifs of the whole situation. But at this point, he would prefer a quick end as opposed to all the pain echoing in his head. It was worse than listening to Dru natter on for countless hours about her damned pixies.
He didn’t really have time to think about much, because Buffy suddenly gasped and bounced up and down, making his head hurt even more to follow her movements. She let him sit on the closed toilet lid and she began writing furiously.
“The spell! God! Giles! I’ve left him chained up in the bathtub all this time!” she panicked.
A wide grin spread across Spike’s face, despite the throbbing ache in his temples. He got up and wrote, “Wanker deserves it, after what he did to me.”
Buffy just rolled her eyes. “We need to get back to the apartment! Cordy’s gonna scream and kill all the Gentlemen!”
Spike looked askance at her. “But you’re the Princess…princess,” he wrote and tapped Buffy on her pert little nose.
Buffy snorted. “Cordy is much more of a Princess than I am. I’m just plain, old me.”
Spike’s eyes grew soft as he wrote, “I happen to like plain, old you.” He then dropped a kiss on her brow and nuzzled her cheek, smiling when he heard her dreamy sigh.
Buffy then gently wrapped her arms around his neck, placing a chaste kiss on his lips and stroking the hair at the nape of Spike’s neck in a soothing manner. “I’m glad,” she whispered in his ear, giggling when he pulled her closer to his body and tightening the embrace they shared.
Spike laid his cheek on Buffy’s head and stared out the window at the coming night, praying it wouldn’t be the last time he was allowed to touch her like this, as he ran his fingers through her long locks.
“So am I,” he whispered…and he meant it.
*****************************************************************************************
In the words of Buffy Summers, Giles was not a happy camper.
His repeated attempts to gain someone’s attention only resulted in Xander occasionally poking his head in through the cracked door, frowning and shaking his head, then disappearing again – which infuriated the usually patient ex-librarian. Then, there was also the fact that he seemed to have lost large spans of time in the past few days, failing to recall how he’d even ended up in his bathtub, chained to the pipes. Plus, the fact that Xander kept looking at him like he was the very Devil himself was enough to send Giles over the edge. Almost.
But, then his bladder reminded him that he needed to relieve himself, and Giles ground his teeth in frustration. He began banging his manacled wrists against the tub rim again; louder than before, wishing he could scream to the heavens that he didn’t really want to piss himself. When the door creaked opened this time though, Giles was prepared to bang incessantly until he was released. That was before he glimpsed Buffy’s apologetic face.
Buffy grimaced a smile with a little wave of her hand in a lame attempt at ‘hello.’ Giles just stared at her, finally lifting his wrists to her with raised eyebrows in a silent question of ‘Did you do this to me?’ He knew the answer when she looked away in shame.
Giles bladder had other ideas than to play ‘20 Questions’ all evening with his Slayer. He started banging on the tub rim again and indicating that he wanted to be free so that he could make use of the facilities…at least that’s what he hoped he was conveying to Buffy. He wasn’t so sure by the look on her face, which went from confused to horrified when he started pointing to his crotch and then to the toilet. Both the Watcher and the Slayer turned deep shades of red.
Giles’ mortification grew as Spike poked his head around the door and gaped at the man in the tub. He came into the small room and shut the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest, wearing the smuggest look that ever graced anyone’s face. Giles clenched his jaw in anger and once again, pointed to his crotch and then to the porcelain bowl, hoping the bleached menace would understand his gestures whereas Buffy did not.
Spike’s eyes widened and he coughed into his fist, tugging Buffy along with him towards the door. Spike then, to Giles’ horror, nuzzled her ear and she grew even redder, retreating quickly from the room. Giles watched Spike stare at the door for some moments before he turned and knelt down beside the tub, taking one of Giles’ wrists in his cool grasp. He then proceeded to unlock all of Giles manacles and help him out of the tub, steadying him once he regained his footing.
Spike discreetly turned his head as Giles relieved himself, and he swore he could have heard a groan and heavy sigh from the Watcher’s direction. He heard the toilet flush and he turned back towards the Watcher, waiting to see what he had to say about the current situation. Spike watched as Giles washed his hands and set about finding his glasses.
Giles patted his pockets to find his glasses and panicked when he found no evidence of them. Spike surprised him once again, as he handed Giles his spectacles – already polished. He took them hesitantly and put them on, shoving his hands in his pants pockets once they were secure. Spike just sat on the edge of the tub, arms still crossed, but now holding onto his biceps in a more self-protective gesture.
Giles studied the much-changed vampire, and wondered not for the first time, if it was actually the chip that had caused the immense transformation. The once exuberant, ostentatious vamp was now quite withdrawn, with a decidedly pinched look about him. His eyes seemed sunken in a little more than the last time he remembered, but there was also a gleam about Spike’s gaze when he looked on Buffy. He remembered the earlier nuzzle and hoped that was not indicative of the relationship of the two blondes.
Forgetting that for the past two days that no one could utter a word, Giles started pacing and talking, and the only words that Spike could comprehend from Giles’ lip movement was, “Look, Spike.” The rest was lost to silence. Spike tried to stop the grin that spread across his face, but it was useless.
Giles furrowed his brow in confusion for a moment, but then he realized what he’d just been doing. He mopped his hand over his face and blew out a heavy sigh, as a slight chuckle took hold of him the longer he thought on the whole situation. In fact, when Buffy stuck her head back inside the bathroom, she did a double take to confirm that what she was seeing was actually happening.
Spike and Giles were both doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their cheeks. Feeling like she was intruding on one of those silly male-bonding moments, she quietly closed the door and returned to the living room where Anya was trying to teach Xander sign language. Apparently Xander was not a quick learner.
Buffy rested against the archway in the hall and watched as Anya tried to teach Xander, what she assumed was the word for sex or orgasm. At least, it looked that way to Buffy. But when Anya held up a book that she had purloined from God knows where to show him what he was really signing, she pointed to the picture of a screwdriver instead of the suggestive term for sex. Poor Xander, Buffy sniggered to herself. At least he was in the same ballpark.
The silence in the room was shattered when an ear-piercing scream ushered from upstairs, startling everyone because they were so used to the stillness for the past few days. The screaming continued, with a few expletives thrown in for good measure, as Buffy raced up the steps, shoving open the bedroom door.
There stood Cordelia, screaming so loud that it was possible her lungs were about to collapse, as yellow goo was splattered all over the windows. Angel held his hands to his ears, wincing in pain from the high decibels that Cordy was reaching. Highly annoyed with her shrieks, Buffy finally grabbed hold of Cordy’s arm and spun her around. Buffy had hoped that this would cause her to stop, but she just kept going. Buffy rationalized in her mind that what she was about to do next was for the sake of everyone’s sanity. But when it came right down to it, she only wanted one good reason to slap Cordelia Chase.
SLAP
Cordy stared in horror, her jaw hanging open, as she rubbed her cheek. “You hit me!” she accused vehemently. After a long pause though, she calmed herself. “Thanks. I needed that.”
Buffy nodded and then pointed to the yellow goo that slowly slid down the windowpane, her eyebrows raised in question. “Huh?” Cordy said.
“She wants to know why there is yellow…yellow…uh, goop all over the window,” Angel interpreted for Buffy. “And why were you screaming in the first place? If I wasn’t already dead, I would be, due to your shocking the living Hell out of me!”
“Hmm, living Hell, how ironic,” Cordy muttered out of the side of her mouth as she rolled her eyes. Cordy slowly approached the window and looked quickly from side to side, searching for something.
“Did you see something?” Angel asked as he got up and joined Cordy at the window.
“Some skeletal, Houdini mind-freak reject is my guess. And let me tell you, those suckers can levitate! We’re on the second floor right?” Cordy looked at Buffy for confirmation and she nodded. “Well that bat-faced, metal-muncher stared right in the window just as I was waking up from a great dream. I was given an unlimited amount of money on Angel’s American Express card and he told me to go shopping on Rodeo Drive, to get myself something to make up for all the times he’s dragged me God knows where, and…”
“Breathe, Cordelia,” Angel growled at the chatterbox that was Cordy.
Buffy mouthed the words ‘Thank you!’ to Angel and joined them at the window. Cordy continued to talk, but Buffy tuned her out, opening the window to get a better look at what caused the slimy mess. Seeing nothing to the sides, she glanced down and was really glad she couldn’t voice her opinion of the remains below.
Yellow gunk slowly made its way down the side of the apartment complex outer wall, ending at what was left of a thin body, minus a head. There were also two straightjacketed lackeys hanging around the body, sniffing it and trying to move it with their feet. It must have been one of the Gentlemen that Cordy had killed with her shrieks.
As if hearing a call from another Gentleman, the lackeys turned in unison and shuffled off in the direction of the town square. Seeing her opportunity to follow them, Buffy pulled her torso back in through the window, hitting the back of her head on the way in. Cordy and Angel both winced in sympathy at how hard the knock was to Buffy’s skull.
Buffy screamed, but no sound issued forth, so she stomped her foot instead. Cordy eventually let slip a giggle and it earned her a nasty glare from the Slayer. “Sorry,” Cordy muttered.
Rubbing the back of her head, Buffy pointed out the window and then used two fingers in a walking motion, hopefully indicating that she wanted the Scoobies to follow them.
“You want to call someone?” Cordy said in confusion, taking Buffy’s gesture as if she meant to let her fingers do the walking.
Buffy really wanted to scream, but settled for the Are you stupid? look. She really hoped Angel got it, because as of this moment, her patience was nil and Cordy was deep in debt. Buffy then looked at Angel, waiting for him to interpret what she was saying, but he was rigid with anger, nostrils flaring.
“Spike’s at the door, listening,” Angel growled. He then spun around and headed for the door, pulling it open rapid enough that Spike fell into the room…on Angel. Angel vamped out so fast that he had Spike by the neck and suspended in midair before Buffy could do anything to prevent it.
“Oh great, round two,” Cordy groused and sat on a chair in the corner – well out of range of any oncoming body parts that might deck her in the nose.
Buffy latched onto the arm Angel was using to gradually squeeze the unlife out of Spike, forcing it down until Spike’s feet could find purchase. Getting nowhere, she snapped her fingers to get Angel’s attention, but his hot gaze was riveted on Spike’s face.
“I can smell her scent all over you!” Angel roared, backhanding Spike across the room to land near Cordy’s feet.
Spike landed against the dresser and crumpled to the floor, his head exploding with pain as he screamed in silent agony. He wondered if this was the end of his pitiful existence, and how ironic it was that Buffy’s ex-lover would be the one to do him in, never mind the fact that he hated Angel with the fury of a thousand hot suns. But the end never came, and the pain resounding through Spike’s skull didn’t abate.
Buffy had grabbed Angel in the same manner as he had done to Spike, and held him pinned up against the bedroom wall, stake aimed at his heart. His astonished look meant nothing to her, and any love she’d had for this creature evaporated when she finally let him speak.
“Buffy,” Angel rasped. “I can’t believe you slept with that degenerate!”
Buffy closed her eyes in utter misery, tears silently making their way down her face, digging the stake a little further into Angel’s skin. To think that she had loved this man – no, not a man, not even a monster. This is what a demon was, as she thought back to what Spike had said to her about demons and monsters. Spike may be a monster, no amount of denial could erase that fact, but he wasn’t a demon – not like Angel. Hell had even spat him back out, the thought causing Buffy to snort mirthlessly. He probably had tried to take over, and Old King Louie just didn’t seem the type to share. It didn’t matter if Angel had a soul or not, as he was still a self-righteous, egotistical bastard that left when the going got tough.
Buffy then opened her eyes and stared with glorious loathing at the being that had once been her world. She leaned very close to his right ear and whispered, “You used me.”
A heavy frown creased Angel’s overbearing forehead. “I never used you Buffy,” he protested hesitantly. The point of the stake was making him twitchy, as it finally drew a thin trickle of blood, but he never once believed that Buffy would actually stake him.
“I remember,” Buffy breathed against his ear lobe, causing him to shudder – with repressed longing or fear, she didn’t know…and didn’t care.
Angel’s blank stare, and then final comprehension, made something inside of Buffy snap. Without thought, she raised her stake to dust the head of the Aurelian line in one fell swoop, but was prevented by a firm grasp on her wrist… by Spike.
Buffy turned her tortured gaze to Spike. He seemed to be wearing the same look as her, the one that said, Yeah, I’d like the asshole dead too, but not by your hand. Spike slowly pulled Buffy’s arm away from Angel’s chest, her face crumpling in silent cries. Spike pulled her into his embrace and just held her, glaring at Angel over her head.
Angel was a whiter shade of pale, as he edged away from the distraught couple, noticing something strange in the way Spike was staring at him. As he inched away, Spike’s gaze didn’t follow him, the blonde vamp’s eyes blinking in rapid succession, looking as if he was trying to focus on something.
“You know, I thought I would miss good old Sunnydale. But I don’t,” Cordy grumbled, as she emerged from the corner to look at the still bleeding wound on Angel’s chest.
“We, ah, we need to follow those, um, things,” Angel said in a shaky voice, belying his fear of just what had occurred.
Buffy sniffed loudly, turning her head from being buried in Spike’s chest, and eyed the two brunettes. Hearing what Angel said, she snapped her fingers and pointed at Angel, nodded rapidly towards Cordy, hoping this time she would grasp what Buffy was trying to tell her.
“Yeah, I know. I was about to suggest the same thing when Loverboy here fell into the room. And how is it that you can smell Buffy on Spike, but didn’t say anything about it when she first came in the room? Is there a little double standard going on here, hmm?” Cordy observed in her ever-tactful way.
“Cordy, zip it,” Angel ordered.
“Oh no way buddy! You can’t order me around; I don’t worship the rose-strewn path that you tread upon like Buffy did! Oh poor Angel, cursed with a soul…Oh poor Angel, can’t sleep with Buffy cause she gave him a happy…Oh poor…ugh, you know what? I’m making myself sick with this crap. Let’s get this over with. I’m tired, I want to go back to L.A., and I want my Coach handbag!” Cordy yelled and stormed out of the bedroom.
Buffy and Angel stared after the irate ex-cheerleader. Spike, however, kept his face turned away, loosely holding onto Buffy’s waist.
“I…I’ll go and make sure she’s not…well, make sure she’s not hacking off some part of Xander’s anatomy in a fit of rage,” Angel said hesitantly. “Buffy I…” he started, but stopped as soon as he saw Buffy flip him the bird.
Spike could hear Angel fuming all the way into the hallway and down the stairs, chuckling at what the Slayer must have gestured to him. That’s my girl, he thought to himself with a smile. But his smile quickly faded, as he leaned down and whispered something in Buffy’s ear, dreading her reaction.
“Buffy…I’m blind.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Many thanks to DragonFly Lady (Lauriel) my beta for being so tolerant of my lazy self. Sorry I haven't updated folks in such a long time - my muse just wasn't feeling it...that is until I told him he'd be replaced by an Elf - then he hoped to. Sheesh, the things you have to do in this day and age to get a little help. This is for Tina, who is having a rough time of it in her personal life - hang in there gal! And of course for Sotia - who is the bestest LJ mover and shaker-upper that I know! And many thanks to EDGEHEAD73 for the awesome banner and her permission to plaster Spike all over my LJ. You're so AWESOME!