[Reviews - 55]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2351 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you for reading. :) Here's more as promised.
Chapter 2

Spike opened his eyes once, and he was convinced that he was lost in an elaborate dream. But then, he opened his eyes again, and again, and she was still there. Buffy was helping him walk. Buffy was allowing him to lean against her. Buffy was offering him a bed to collapse on, and—here comes the best part—Buffy was touching him. She had already removed his shirt and she was inspecting his bruises. Her fingers were soft, warm, and unbelievably gentle. Spike kept his eyes closed as she cleaned his bloody nose and spilt lip. He pretended to remain unconscious, but he was aware of her every breath, the flowery smell of her hair, and the way her weight just barely sank into the edge of the mattress. Her leg was crossed, a knee was pressed against his hip, and it thrilled him that she didn’t seem to mind the contact.

Maybe she’s had a change of heart, he thought optimistically. Maybe we’ve developed some kind of special bond. She’s never been like this, generous, warm, even compassionate--.

“You stupid vampire,” she grumbled, immediately shoving Spike out of his rose-colored fantasies.

“I hope this is worth it,” she continued. “I hope whatever you stole, or whatever amount of money you never paid back, I hope it—God, what am I doing? Scolding a guy who can’t even hear me?”

She sighed heavily, and Spike heard her move objects on the nightstand. Things were thrown in the trash, and he guessed that she was tidying up. He guessed that she was getting ready to leave.

“Buffy?” His eyes flew open. His voice cracked. He hated how weak he sounded, but he hated that she was on her way out of the room even more. “Where am I?”

She turned to face him, her arms loaded with an assortment of bandages and disinfectant. “The guestroom,” she answered after a moment. “In my mom’s house.”

They stared at each other, both at a loss of words. Spike swallowed and opened his mouth, but Buffy decided to speak again.

“I’m not sure how it got there, and I don’t want to think about how long it’s been in there, but I found a bag of blood in my mom’s refrigerator. It was all the way in the back, right next to the polar bear that’s filled with baking soda, which is completely bizarre and totally disgusting. Since you’re awake, I’ll warm it up.” She paused before adding, “The blood, not the, uh, polar bear baking soda thing.”

“Of course,” he answered with a hint of amusement. “I understood what you were saying.”

“I’ll be right back. I need to put this stuff away.”

“Take your time, pet.” As soon as he let the term of endearment slip, he regretted it. Buffy’s eyes narrowed into angry slits, and he bit the inside of his cheek, prepared to suffer from her wrath.

“Just stay awake, alright? Promise me that you’ll stay at least semi-conscious until I come back.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Because I will not feed you,” she declared. “I refuse. We don’t even have straws, so I’m not going to--.”

“You’ve done enough. I don’t expect you to do more,” he mumbled. He wanted to say more, but confronted with her irritated glare, he chose to remain silent.

“Yeah, well…”

“Take your time, love,” Spike whispered after she took off down the hallway.
***

He was still awake when Buffy returned. In fact, he had situated himself into a sitting position.

“Guess I’m not looking too hot,” he said once she stood at his bedside.

“You look terrible. Like death, but worse. I’d give you a mirror, but…” she shrugged and handed him a mug. “Use the potholder. It’s hot. Be careful, the last thing I need is another mess to clean up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked, taken off guard by his quiet apology.

“Being a mess.”

“Oh.” She looked away once his lips curved into a somewhat pitiful smile. He was acting so strangely. He was being friendly, polite…decent, and it was making Buffy’s skin crawl. “I—let me get a chair from the dining room,” she said, desperate to get away if only for a minute.

“What’s wrong with where you were sitting before? It’s a big bed, you know.”

“I will not,” she stopped and took a deep breath. Now he was acting like the Spike she knew, the Spike who was always pushing her buttons. “Let’s not do this. For one night, can we not do this?”

“Do what exactly?” he asked. It might’ve been her imagination, but Buffy stiffened, hearing what sounded like a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “I don’t bite,” he continued, “but I don’t have to remind you of that. Not after this evening. Hell, my head is still throbbing.”

“You hit one of them?”

“I hit the taller git so hard, God, my shoe almost went through that sod’s gut.”

“You’re boasting? Spike, I know your brain got a few electric shocks tonight, but you were beat up. You lost the fight.”

“Hey now. Don’t give them credit when it isn’t due. It was the chip that brought me down. If those bastards had had just one drop of demon to them--.”

“But they didn’t. They were human.”

Even with a swollen eye, Spike managed to shoot her an annoyed glare. “I noticed.”

“So,” Buffy reached for the mug once he downed all the blood, “what did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Spike,” she began sharply. “Come on, you owe me an explanation. I dragged you here, I invited you into mother’s house, I--.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he interrupted. “I didn’t do anything. I was followed. I don’t know why. I’m completely in the dark here, and about everything apparently. I’m still trying to wrap my head around you being outside my crypt earlier.”

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Well, that’s funny. You’ve always made a point to avoid my neighborhood before tonight.”

“It isn’t important. Why I was there…it just isn’t important. Don’t worry about it.”

“You were watching me,” Spike insisted. “I’d almost say,” he paused to search her blank expression. “I’d almost say that you were watching over me…like you knew that something was about to happen.”

“I—damn it, I won’t lie. I heard a few rumors. Your name was mentioned along with Tuesday night, so I--.”

“Instead of telling me, instead of warning me, you decided to lurk in the bushes,” he stated confidently as if he’d solved a puzzle. “How long did you watch before—is that why I’m here? You’re feeling guilty?”

“Why would I feel guilty?” she shot back defensively. “I didn’t hit you.”

“You didn’t stop it either,” he accused, his voice raw with emotion.

“Aren’t you being a little overdramatic about this?” she asked, feeling uneasy. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Since he was her enemy, she was used to hurting him physically, but she hadn’t hurt his actual feelings before. Before that very moment she wasn’t even aware that he had feelings to hurt. He was a vampire, a creature of darkness, your typical run-of-the-mill evil thing.

“How would you feel if you were in my position? Damn it, you should’ve told me.”

“Spike, we are not friends. We’re enemies. We hate each other.”

“Then why am I here? Why are you taking care of me?”

“I’m not,” she flinched.

“You’re not? Then what do you call this?”

She scowled at him, angry that he wasn’t backing down. “I’m not a monster. You were hurt and helpless. I would’ve done the same for anyone.”

“But for anything?” he stressed. “I’m a vampire--.”

“With a chip. That makes you helpless, just like a…a stray neutered puppy!” she exclaimed. After the chip had been implanted by the Initiative, nothing had made Spike more upset than when she and her friends taunted him for being unable to bite humans. She knew she was playing dirty, but at least she didn’t use a word like flaccid. She would spare him that much…for now.

And as she expected, Spike’s face grew dark. He mumbled a line of curses as he untangled himself from the blanket Buffy had draped over his legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. This puppy isn’t a stray; he has a fucking home,” he growled as he stomped around the bed. “Where’d you put my shirt?”

“I threw it out,” she answered with a defiant shrug. “It was disgusting.”

“Right. I’ll be sending you the bill for it then.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and followed him to the front door. “Your crypt isn’t safe.”

“I’ll take my chances. I’d rather be there than here with you. If I’m near your shoddy Mother Theresa routine for another minute I’ll puke.”

“So this is what I get for being nice to you? A temper tantrum?”

Spike turned, his hand on the doorknob. “If this is your definition of ‘nice,’ love, we need to get you a dictionary.”

“I—don’t call me that!”

“I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

Buffy heard him chuckle after she slammed the door shut.
***





You must login (register) to review.