MIND GAMES
“Buffy,” whispered Spike.
Giles, Buffy and Willow all hugged each other. He was back! It had worked!
“Get the door open!” cried Buffy.
Spike was still on his hands and knees as she raced in and went to him. Resisting the urge to fling her arms around, she knelt in front of him.
“Spike,” she said tenderly. As she touched his hand he pushed himself up so he was kneeling, facing her.
“Buffy, it’s you,” he said. He reached out and touched her cheek with his fingers. She caught the hand and held it tight.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” she said. She helped him to his feet as he was a bit unsteady. Together they walked up into the apartment with Willow and Giles following them.
They all sat there a little awkwardly, no one knowing quite what to say.
“Is there anything you need, Spike?” asked Giles eventually.
“If it’s okay I think I’d like to go to bed,” said Spike hesitantly.
“Of course, it’s just through here,” said Giles, getting up and showing him the way.
Spike nodded slightly to the girls and followed him into one of the bedrooms. Once inside he lay on the bed, not even going under the covers. He was asleep before Giles had left the room.
The others moved into the kitchen so as not to disturb him with their talk.
“He’s exhausted,” said Giles, “Let him sleep as long as he likes.”
“Hardly surprising considering what he’s been through,” said Willow.
“So what do we do now?” asked Buffy.
“Take it one day at a time, I suppose,” said Giles.
Ooooooooooooo
Spike tossed and turned on the bed then suddenly sat bolt upright, wide awake, with his heart pounding and his body drenched in sweat.
“Oh God,” he said quietly.
He looked around the unfamiliar room and saw a pile of clean clothes on a chair near the bed. He looked down at the t-shirt and pants he was wearing, the t-shirt wet with sweat. He got out of the bed and over to the clothing. There was a pair of jeans, a clean t-shirt, underwear and a pair of black boots. Hanging over the back of the chair was a leather coat. He reached out tentatively to the duster. As soon as his fingers brushed the leather he was assailed by the same images that had wrenched him from his sleep. Visions of him killing, biting, and drinking blood. He pulled his hand back sharply, stifling the cry that was trying to get out. He daren’t touch the other clothes - he knew he’d worn them all at the same time and couldn’t bear the thought of putting them on.
He had no idea what time it was so he went to the door, opened it and listened for a moment. He could hear voices coming from a room on the left. He stepped into the hall and walked slowly towards the voices. He found Willow, Giles and Buffy eating breakfast at the kitchen table. He paused at the door, unsure of what to say or do. Buffy saw him before the others did.
“Spike! You’re awake at last.” She came over to him and gave him a hug and a kiss.
Spike forced himself to hug her back and return her kiss but in his mind he remembered Drusilla and the kisses and more that they’d shared. His face flushed slightly, ashamed of his behaviour. He loved Buffy but had eagerly sought out Dru’s passion.
“You’ve slept for nearly twenty four hours,” said Giles, “Come on, sit down. Let’s get you something to eat.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Spike in a subdued voice.
“Sorry? For what? Sleeping so long?” said Giles, “It’s no matter. You must have needed it - your body’s taken a bit of a battering the past few days.”
Spike closed his eyes briefly at his words. He’d felt peace when the demon had been expelled from his body, almost unendurable pain during but once it had gone it had been calm with no pain. He’d been aware of a sensation urging him to take control of his body once more but he’d resisted it because he’d liked that place. He’d had no memories of the things he’d done and he didn’t need that body any more. He was just existing in a serene calm, without form. Then it had been like he’d been caught in a tornado. He was pulled from the plane of existence he’d been on and slammed back into his body. It had hurt like hell, not just physically, but as he entered the body he could feel the evil it had done, the evil he’d done.
He opened his eyes to find all three looking at him.
“I’m okay,” he said in response to their unasked question.
He ate his breakfast, all the time aware of their scrutiny.
“Do you want to have a shower before we go back to the others at the house?” prompted Buffy.
Spike abruptly became aware that he didn’t exactly smell fresh.
“Yeah,” he said and he got up quickly and left the kitchen before anyone had chance to tell him where it was. He went along the hall, opening a few doors before he got the right one.
He got under the shower, running the water as hot as he could bear. He scrubbed himself hard and after about ten minutes he got out, skin red from the heat. He dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He went to the mirrored cabinet on the wall hoping he’d find a razor. He opened it, found a razor and some shaving foam and took them out. He shut the door and wiped a hand across the steamed-up mirror to clear it. As he caught sight of his reflection he gave a bit of a yelp and took a step back. His hair was snow white, but that’s not what had shocked him. For a second his eyes had been yellow, brow lumpy and his teeth long and vicious. The image passed and he was back to looking at his own familiar face albeit with bleached blond hair.
His hand trembled as he started to shave, nicking his cheek. He found himself shaving by touch rather than looking in the mirror again. He knew it was his mind playing tricks. If the demon was still within him it would cast no reflection but he kept his eyes averted nonetheless.
He dressed in the clothes he’d had on before, no way was he going to put those others on, and went back into the kitchen.
When Buffy saw him still in the dirty clothes she started to tell him about his jeans. But then she guessed why he hadn’t wanted to wear them and kicked herself for not bringing others over. She had been so worried about the spell and getting him back she hadn’t even thought about it.
“We’ll stop and get you some stuff on the way to the house,” she said, noticing his relief as she said it.
“If we’re ready we’ll go, shall we?” asked Giles
They picked up their bags that stood near the door and headed out to the car. None of them commented on the fact Spike was barefoot. He sat in the back seat with Buffy, Willow driving and Giles in the seat next to her. Willow pulled up outside a store and Buffy went to get out.
“I’ll go and get them. I know your sizes,” she said.
“I’ll come too,” said Spike.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind. I won’t be long.”
“I’m sure,” he said.
“Okay.”
The pair of them got out, Spike drawing a few odd looks due to the lack of footwear and grubbiness of his clothes. They made their way over to the racks of jeans, Buffy heading for the black ones. She started checking sizes when Spike said,
“I’ve got some.”
She looked around to see him holding a pair of faded blue denims.
“They’re nice,” she said brightly.
He quickly grabbed a red t-shirt and then went and selected a pair of white trainers. She paid for them and he put them on before leaving the shop.
Willow and Giles looked at each other as they saw him returning with Buffy. Neither could remember seeing him in anything other than his usual black jeans.
When they got to the house the others greeted him warmly.
“Welcome back,” said Xander, shaking his hand and patting his shoulder.
Helen looked into his eyes, seeing the difference in them from when she’d bumped into him in the street, before he’d vamped up. She could see his soul for want of a better word. She hugged him tightly. Spike hugged her back then had to resist the urge to fling her away as he got a taste of blood in his mouth - her blood. He could smell it. He gagged slightly, managing to disguise it as a cough.
Andrew was next but mercifully Spike didn’t get any strange feeling from him or from Dawn. Dawn had passed Joy to Buffy as they’d come in and now Buffy produced their daughter for Spike to hold.
“Dada,” said Joy, holding out her arms for him. He took her from Buffy and when he didn’t get assailed by any hideous images he hugged her tight, tears stinging his eyes. He’d missed her so much.
As the day went on, Spike started to feel a little more relaxed. He carefully avoided touching Helen. He knew he’d attacked her and certainly didn’t want a repeat of the feeling he’d had earlier. He kept his mind busy by playing with Joy, who was delighted to have him home.
Helen and Xander left to go to their own home that evening and later, at about eleven, Spike turned to Buffy.
“Where’s the bedroom, pet? I think I’ll turn in.”
“I’ll show you.”
She took his hand and walked him up the stairs to the room she’d been using. It had two single beds, not a double. As she closed the door she kissed him, hands running over his body. He kissed her back, pushing away the images of Drusilla her kisses provoked.
“It wasn’t me,” he said to himself firmly.
They lay on one of the beds, kissing and caressing, but as Buffy reached for the buttons on his jeans he put a hand over hers and said softly,
“I can’t, not yet.”
“’S okay,” said Buffy, trying not to let the hurt show in her voice. She kissed him again. “No rush.”
“Sorry,” said Spike. He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and put his head in his hands.
How could he tell her that his mind was full of Drusilla and it revolted him that he’d been so unfaithful to her. He felt Buffy kiss his neck up and he reached out and squeezed her hand then got up, got undressed, and got into the other single bed.
“Night, love,” he said, voice catching a little and tears threatening to fall.
“Night, Spike. I love you,” said Buffy.
“I love you too,” he managed to say.
Ooooooooooo
His sleep was wracked with dreams. He woke several times, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. At about four am he gave up trying to sleep and looked over at Buffy in the bed opposite, just able to make out the shape of her under the covers. He got out of his bed and went to hers, slipped under the covers, and spooned his body next to hers needing the comfort it offered. Buffy stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake. Spike lay there holding her, grateful that no images of Drusilla appeared. He got out of bed as she started to rouse. He had a shower and was dressed before she woke up fully.
“Morning, pet,” he said, thinking that perhaps he’d be okay today, that it was just left over stuff from all the mojo he’d been subjected to. They’d told him of his time in the cell and the magics Willow had evoked. He hadn’t told them but he remembered it all. It was like he’d watched what had happened to his vampire self but still felt the pain along with it. The only thing he’d hadn’t known was the time before his soul had returned. That, he knew, corresponded to the time he’d felt peace and calm before being dragged painfully back to this plane.
He leant down and kissed her. As their lips met Spike could suddenly see Drusilla on the bed, not Buffy.
“God no!” he thought, closing his eyes. He opened them again and thankfully it was Buffy’s concerned face looking at him, not Dru’s.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, headache is all,” he lied.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Dawn popped her head round it.
“Hope you’re up for a bit of company.” She laughed as she pushed the door open further and Joy came into the room and over to her Dad.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he said, scooping her up in his arms and kissing her, with Joy giggling in delight.
Oooooooooooo
The day passed uneventfully with Spike suffering only one vision, again that of his vampire face when he caught sight of himself in a mirror in the sitting room.
It was nearly time for dinner and when Spike didn’t appear with the others Buffy went to find him. He’d been playing with Joy and she thought, as was usual when he played with his daughter, he was so engrossed he’d not realised the time. She looked into the sitting room but it was empty so she carried along the hall to where there was a dining room. They had never used it, preferring to gather around the kitchen table.
She walked in to find Joy happily playing with a doll. At first she didn’t see Spike, then she heard a low moan and turned to see him sitting on the floor behind the door, knees drawn up to his chest and head bowed down.
“Spike!” She rushed to him and he flinched as she touched him. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
He looked up at her with such pain in his eyes her heart faltered. He wordlessly held out his hand to her; in it was Joy’s little fleecy cap. He looked back down.
“I wanted to hurt her,” he said. He couldn’t tell her that, as he looked at Joy, he could see her covered in a veil of blood, with oozing tooth marks on her neck.
“No, not you. It wasn’t you,” soothed Buffy.
“I killed Carole the day I got that hat,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken, his voice a low monotone.
She repeated that it hadn’t been him and gently took the hat from his hand.
He looked up at her, the horrific image of the broken body of Carole disappearing as the cap left his hand.
“Oh God, Buffy,” he whispered.
She hugged him close. He clung to her, eyes kept tightly shut, fearing he’d see Dru and not Buffy.
“Come on, dinner’s ready,” said Buffy eventually.
They stood up. Buffy picked up their daughter and walked out into the hallway.
“You go eat, I’m not feeling hungry, “said Spike, “Think I’ll lie down for a bit if that’s okay?”
“Sure it is. Want me to sit with?”
“No, it’s okay. You go and get your dinner.”
He brushed his lips on her cheek with the gentlest of kisses, then turned to go upstairs.
Buffy, joining the others for the meal, explained about finding Spike as she had.
“Poor Spike,” said Willow, “I’ll see if I can find a spell to help him.”
The others agreed it might be a good idea.
Oooooooooooo
Spike went into the bathroom, glancing fearfully at the mirror. Sure enough the reflection he saw was of the yellow eyed demon leering back at him. He struck out at the glass with his fist. It broke, a cobweb of cracks distorting the already distorted features of the demon. He looked down at his fist and there was blood on his knuckles, the smell turning his stomach. He spun round and just made it to the toilet before throwing up. When it passed he stood leaning over the toilet, breath coming in ragged gasps. He turned back to the mirror. In the disjointed reflection he still saw the demon, hair gleaming under the fluorescent light. He opened the cupboard and took out a pair of scissors and started to cut off the blond locks as close to his head as he could, trying to rid himself of the vision in front of him. It didn’t work - the vampire still looked back at him.
He fled the room and quickly and quietly went downstairs. He went to the cupboard that all Watchers Council properties have - the weapons cupboard. He looked at the racks of weapons, disregarding the swords and the axes, and pulled open a drawer. He took out a hand gun and from another drawer he took out a clip of bullets and snapped it in place. He carefully shut the door and walked along the hall to the garden at the back of the house. He opened the back door and slipped out into the night.
To be continued……..
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