Four
Oh man, I'm tired and lonely.
Again, why must it be?
A man is drowning slowly.
And he can't keep above, gone way to deep.
Open skies are falling, tears are coming down.
Like a drop of rain falls to the ocean and comes back around, one rainy day . . .
Oh so many times I should have crawled when I went running by.
And since then I've been left feeling traumatized.
Raped and drained of an innocence, a gift we've lost over time.
And still I gaze through this one rainy day, alone with no one by my side.
I swear I've given, I've given you all I can.
Never will you ever make me feel this way again, on this one rainy day.
She was asleep long before he cleaned up the sheets and dirty clothing strewn in his bathroom. Luckily, he used a laundry service and all he had to do was call them and someone would be there in less than an hour to pick up the stuff that needed washing. He’d bundled her in one of his tee-shirts and a pair of shorts, laying her gently on the couch in his small living room.
Twenty minutes later, after checking his refrigerator and finding new and interesting life-forms not meant for human consumption, Spike made a series of telephone calls. The first was to the laundry service and the second to the local mini-mart on the corner that delivered and the last was to his doorman, letting Jose know he was home and expecting deliveries. Jose and the other guys were all very good doormen, not letting anyone up past the second set of doors without calling the tenants. He’d avoided more than one unwanted visitor that way, and he fully expected that to be the case for the next couple of days.
Priorities settled, Will stared at the girl curled up on his couch. Nothing had changed. She didn’t look any better, or any older or any less vulnerable. Bruises still marred her skin, darkening as more time passed, reminding him vividly of how he’d found her. The tape holding the IV shunt had come loose in the shower and he’d ripped it off her, only to hesitate when faced with removing the needle from her hand. Figuring now was better than never, he dropped down to his knees beside her, cradling her left hand in his right.
“All right now, kitten. Don’t yell at me when this hurts. ‘M doing my best here, but I’m no medic.” Will blew out a derisive snort, wondering why he kept talking to the girl, when she was obviously out cold.
“It doesn’t hurt.” Or maybe not.
Started enough to nearly drop her hand, Will glanced at her face. Just the hint of green peeked through her dark lashes and he got the feeling she was finding his reluctance to hurt her further a little amusing. “You’re okay with this?”
She tried shrugging, but the gesture was more implied than actual. “Dunno.”
“Fair enough. ‘M gonna take this out.”
It took more time to tell her what he was doing than to actually do it, and before she blinked, the needle was gone from her hand. A tiny rivulet of blood dripped from the wound, but that was all. She never even flinched or reacted in any way. Will shrugged and slapped a small band-aid over the puncture, then pulled a clean comforter over her. “Go back to sleep, kitten.”
“Kay.”
Surprisingly enough, she did.
There were numerous home remedies for getting rid of the effects of drug use, and Spike knew most of them. He’d ordered cranberry juice and some other things from the corner market, then ordered chicken soup from the health food store, along with a health-shake designed to purge anyone’s insides. It was his favorite choice for hangover recovery and, while he’d never experimented with some of the newer drugs, he figured it would help her there as well.
After putting clean linens on the bed, he debated about putting her back and decided against it, at least until she was more coherent. He flicked on the stereo in his room, wincing when Godsmack’s I Stand Alone blared from the speakers. Lowering the volume, he switched the CD player to Diana Kroll and let the music soothe his jangled nerves.
He was tired, but he’d worked longer hours on less sleep, so this wasn’t a real stretch for him yet. What set off his nerves he couldn’t – or rather didn’t – want to readily admit. Something about the vulnerable little girl sleeping on his couch touched upon a part of himself that he’d shut down since he’d parted ways with Drusilla. Protecting her felt natural and nothing Gunn or the others thought would sway him from his initial assessment – she was innocent. At least of Angelus’ murder.
Working the streets was another matter.
The intercom buzzer rang, pulling him from his thoughts. Grabbing his wallet, Spike headed for the elevator, telling himself he was doing it for her safety rather than his own paranoia. He wouldn’t put it past Harris or McDonald to have a tail on him, even though he’d always been alert. Angelus had tried it once, ambushing him and his handler. Quentin Travers had barely survived the shooting and Will had sworn to himself he’d never get caught like that again. The shooting had blown his cover and he’d been forced to take a backseat in the Angelus investigation, although it had led him to his current assignment in New York.
She woke up while he puttered around in his tiny galley kitchen, her eyes darting about nervously as she visibly tried to make sense of where she was. “I thought I was dreaming.”
“Why’s that?”
“Dunno.” She huddled under the blanket, eyes on his back. “Who are you?”
His soft chuckle sounded in the air and he turned to look at her. “Name’s Will or Spike, doesn’t matter much which one you use. I’ll answer to both.”
“Where are we?” Her voice was soft, a bit raspy still and she barely spoke louder than a whisper. “What happened?”
Will grabbed the shake and the cup of tea he’d made for her and rounded the wall separating kitchen from living room.
“Here, drink this.” He held out the shake. “How much do you remember?”
She looked at the pink concoction in his hand and wrinkled her nose, but took it anyway. “Why?”
“Why do I wanna know what you remember or why are you here?” Will leaned against the kitchen wall, facing her squarely. He kept his distance, not wanting to scare her or give her the impression he was threatening her.
“Yeah.” She sipped the drink warily, letting the taste roll on her tongue before slurping it down in nearly one gulp. “That was good.”
“Glad you liked it. Now drink the tea.”
Another puzzled look, though this time she didn’t even question him. It was still hot, so she was forced to take her time and sip it. “So?”
Will reached a decision as he was watching her, one that would possibly backfire on him, but he thought she might be the kind of girl that appreciated the unvarnished truth, no matter what it was. She had a stubborn tilt to her head and, despite the pain, a glint in her eyes that told him more than she realized. “I’m a cop.”
“Yeah. Figured that.” She leaned her head back, resting it on the curve between the arm and the back. “And?”
“Found you at a crime scene, drugged and beaten. Didn’t figure you for more than another victim.” Will was pacing by the end, unable to stay still. “What do you remember?”
Her eyes opened and he was struck by their color and the emotions swirling in their depths. “Couple came and got me. He was tall and dark. Kinda creepy, said he wanted me because I’m young. They took me to a swanky hotel. We partied – “ Her voice trailed off and he realized there were tears trailing down her cheeks.
“It’s okay, kitten. You don’t have to remember everything.”
She looked away, her eyes staring at the brick building behind them. “He hit me a couple of times when I tried to leave.”
“Why did you try to leave?”
“Don’t remember. Something felt wonky.” She lapsed into silence and closed her eyes. Will gave her the respite from questioning, knowing from past experience there was a possibility she’d remember more if he didn’t push her. It was harder this way, but the results were usually more reliable.
“Why don’t you try and rest some more? You’re safe here.” She nodded, rustling around a bit to get more comfortable. “Want a pillow or two?”
“Yeah.” As if remembering manners ingrained by habit, she softened a bit. “Thank you. For everything.”
“No problem, kitten.”
And it wouldn’t be a problem, so long as he remembered she was a witness and nothing more.
She was once again sleeping when his cell phone rang a little after eight, though she stirred at the sound of his agitated voice. Will glanced at her as he was arguing with Gunn, trying vainly to hold onto his temper. He’d ignored an earlier call from him, preferring not to get into how much he’d complicated the investigation by removing her from the hospital. Technically, he still had her in custody, but no judge in his right mind would dismiss the impropriety. She was an underage girl and he was alone, without a female cop as his partner. And while he was pretty certain Nikki would cover for him, he didn’t want her to jeopardize her own career.
Not over this.
Explaining his motives to Gunn was akin to shouting into a gale-force wind. The man refused to give or compromise, which made him the best and worst of partners. Whenever Will tried bending the rules, Charles Gunn was there with a reason why he shouldn’t. It tried his patience at every turn. Not that he had a whole lot to begin with; patience was not one of his virtues. Will knew he aggravated Gunn just as much. The truth was, he didn’t like the constraints of working with a partner, hadn’t liked them since he’d been in uniform in London.
The sound of his name being called made him pause. He stopped mid-argument, telling Gunn to hold on, his eyes riveted on the girl. She was attempting to get up, her feet tangling in the blankets and her less then coordinated efforts making her more frustrated. Will clicked the phone shut, stepping toward her in the same motion.
“I’ve got it, kitten.” He pulled the blankets off, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor. “What’s wrong?”
“Gotta get up.” She tried scrambling to her feet, only to be thwarted by her own body. “I need to pee.”
Distressed green eyes flashed at him and he couldn’t figure out what was wrong until she tried once more to stand.
“Gotcha.” Will lifted her easily, carrying her to the bathroom in spite of her protests. “Should have said so.”
“Who were you fighting with?”
Will dropped her at the doorway, pushing her inside the green and white room. “Oooh. Pretty room.”
He laughed, because that was invariably the reaction everyone had to his bathroom. It was pretty, with dark green marble walls and all white fixtures and had actually been the selling point to his renting this particular apartment. That and the location. “Yeah, it’s a nice enough loo.”
She shot him a funny look and he backed away from the door, closing it as he went. He had no intention of telling her who he’d been arguing with – or why. Girl doesn’t need to know all the particulars.
The sound of water reached his ears and he headed back into the kitchen, grabbing his cell and hitting re-dial. He’d much rather have it out with Gunn when the girl wasn’t eavesdropping.
“You could be a little less rude, English.”
He sighed, knowing this conversation was going to head into areas he didn’t want it to. “Couldn’t be helped.”
“Right. Rudeness is always a plus.” Gunn paused, then pointedly asked him, “Where are you?”
“Told you not to ask me that. We’re safe. If I think we need to change locations, I’ll let you know.” Will tapped a pen against the counter top. “Just tell me what else you’ve found.”
“Nothing. No one heard or saw anything. Hotel staff doesn’t remember seeing the girl or anyone else. I’m thinking Angelus’ people got to them first and nothing we can do is gonna make them talk.”
“Wonderful. Right then.” Spike whirled around when he heard a noise behind him, and he blanched at the sight greeting his eyes. The girl was slumped on his floor, her eyes dark and pain filled. “Keep me posted.”
He was at her side in seconds, the cell phone forgotten. “Fuck. What happened, kitten?”
She managed to whimper out, “It hurts” before curling in on herself. She tried twice to lift herself up on her arms, only to fail.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Spike dropped down to his knees, his hand smoothing her hair away from her face. “I’ve got you, kitten.”
She whimpered and sniffled, weakly wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It hurts.”
“What hurts?” Easily lifting her up in his arms, Spike got to his feet and headed for the bedroom.
A deep red blush covered her features and he stared at her, not comprehending her at all. “What is it?”
“When I peed. It hurt to sit and,” She buried her head into the pillow, refusing to look at him. Whatever she said next was muffled by the feathers and down, and he didn’t understand it at all.
“Say that again?”
Groaning a bit, she barely moved her head, whispering in a voice filled with shame, “It hurts down there. And there’s blood.”
“Oh, hell.” Spike was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do for her or what to tell her. She had to be in pain, but the fact. . . “How much blood?”
“Not a lot. I’m not bleeding or anything.” She hid her face again, refusing to look at him. The bed squeaked as he got up, the sound loud and obnoxious in the suddenly quiet room. Spike stared at the mirror on the back of his bedroom door, not really seeing his reflection, instead focusing on the small girl huddled in on herself, wrapped up in all his blankets.
“What happened to me?”
Spike dropped his head, unable to look at her. His voice was barely more than a whisper and he had to force the words out. “I’m so sorry, kitten. When we brought you to the hospital they. . . The doctor had to use a rape kit for you.”
She was silent for so long he thought she hadn’t heard him, until a noise, something between a sob and a whimper emerged from her. He cursed himself for an insensitive fool, moving quickly back to her side. “I’m sorry, kitten, so damn sorry.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she curled into his embrace, head resting against his chest.
Thanks to everyone who's reading this story. I hope to update everything else before we actually move, so keep an eye out for that. You're all the best.