Five
Green in your love on bright days
you grew sun blind you thought me unkind
to remind you how winter kills
lost in daydreams you drove too fast and got nowhere
you rode on half fare when you got too scared
how winter kills
tear at me searching for weaker seams
pain in your eyes make me cruel
make me spiteful tears are delightful welcome your nightfall
how winter kills
I’ll tear at you searching for weaker seams
how winter kills
Though it was closer to midnight than morning, the sounds from the streets below didn’t alter. Trucks and cars still rolled across the pavement, and the distant rumble of subways echoed almost silently beneath the buildings. He was comfortable here, in the city that never slept, partially because it reminded him so much of home, of another city across the ocean that rarely settled down. The buildings and accents were different, but the thrum, the beat was nearly identical. Will looked up through his window, out into the patch of dark sky, his mind more on the past than he’d like. He should be focused on suspects and reasons why Liam Reilly was finally in a morgue; instead he was thinking about London.
It had been almost six years since he’d moved to New York, arriving in the aftermath of the attack on September 11th. He’d volunteered for two reasons – the first was intensely personal – and he’d never once looked back. Regrets he had; parting from Drusilla hadn’t been part of his plan, but now he was almost relieved to be free. She hadn’t wanted to leave, he hadn’t wanted to stay.
The girl beside him shifted, her bruised and battered body seeking a more comfortable spot. Almost without thought, he reached for her, brushed his hand over her back and sighed when she settled closer. Usually the plight of working girls didn’t even affect him, knowing the system and problems most of them had. He didn’t give much thought to the witnesses either, using them only for information and not caring beyond that. Will was a master at holding his empathy back, at not connecting with anyone but his targets; the masterminds, terrorists and criminals were more than enough for him to focus on.
Until her. Part of him blamed the damn target. Angelus was a bastard and his own personal shadow and he’d long since given up any hope of perspective when dealing with him. Knowing the girl had been his last victim and that he’d in all likelihood performed the violent acts himself had affected Will.
But that wasn’t the whole of it. And Will wasn’t self-delusional. Something about her, bruised and bloodied, lying vulnerable and unconscious, touched him. He hadn’t even known her name or anything else about her and his protective instincts, the ones he was usually able to suppress, roared to the surface. It wasn’t her age either. It was just her.
She moved again, tremors wracking her slight form and soft, barely audible whimpers sounding in her throat. This time, when he reached for her, he knew exactly what he was doing. His hand, which had been resting against the middle of her back, snaked around her waist, anchoring her to his side.
Will realized a split-second later he’d made a huge mistake. She froze, then erupted into convulsive, defensive movements, legs and arms flailing and kicking, pushing him away from her. Hoarse cries filled the air and she scrabbled away from him, curling into a ball against the headboard.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
“Christ!” He eased back, wincing when he flexed his jaw. She’d caught him with a fist just below his nose and he could feel the swelling start. “Easy, kitten, ‘s just me, Will. Remember?”
He flipped on the bedside lamp, shifting so that she could clearly see his face. “Look at me, kitten.”
She tried making herself smaller, not registering his voice for long minutes. Will got off the bed, moving further away from her. “Kitten. . . . Open your eyes and look at me.”
“Buffy.” Their eyes met and she made a face. “It’s my name.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” He crouched down, dropping so that he was eye level with her. “You all right?”
“I’m sorry.” She reached out a tentative hand, brushing it over his bruised lip. “I didn’t mean – I’m sorry.”
“No worries, yeah?” Will shook his head, capturing her fingers in his warm hand. “Guess I surprised you. Weren’t ‘xpecting me, an’ you got scared. Understandable, really.”
She looked away from him, staring out into the night sky. “I forgot for a few minutes.” Her gaze dropped down to the blankets, hiding her expression behind the fall of her hair. “I forgot what he did and then you touched me, and I . . . “
“It’s okay. Really.” He started to get up, to ease the pressure on his knees, but stalled as she reached for him. Will shifted, trying to get a better look at her face. “What do you need?”
His first answer was a sniffle, then a whimper. “C’mon, kitten, I promise I won’t bite. Or yell. Jus’ tell me what you need.”
Buffy shook her head negatively, then whispered, so low he barely heard her, “A hug. I really, really need a hug.”
“Oh.” He hesitated, then eased onto the bed, his arms going round her slight form. “I’ve got you, kitten.”
Buffy molded herself to him, her head resting against his chest and her hand still clasped in his. Will knew she was still crying, could scent her tears and feel them wetting his dark tee-shirt, but he didn’t try to stop her. If anyone deserved to cry, it was her.
He thought she’d fallen asleep, she was so still, her breathing so steady and even; so when she started to talk, he was momentarily surprised.
“Her voice was husky, kinda like smoky?” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “She had dark eyes. That much I remember.”
Will brushed a hand over her hair, running it down her back and then up again. “Anything else?”
“He. . . I don’t know.” She tensed, her whole body going stiff. “They picked me up in an Escalade. Big white one. Had Connecticut plates.”
Cataloging that information for later, Will sort of hummed his response, letting her believe the information wasn’t important. Buffy smoothed her hand over his shirt, rubbing the soft cotton between her fingers. “I was working by the Piers.”
“Were you?” He playfully tugged on the ends of her hair. “Why over there?”
“It’s close to where I’m staying. And well, the Japanese tourists are there a lot. Get a couple of those guys and I don’t have to work much at all.” There was more than a tinge of bitterness in her voice and he finally broached the subject he’d been curious about from the beginning.
“Wanna tell me ‘bout why you’re doing that, pet?”
It was a sore spot, that much he could tell by her body language alone. Once more she stiffened, then just as abruptly deflated. “My parents split when I was ten. And my mom remarried when I was fourteen. Ted – my mother’s husband, didn’t really like me. Stuff changed after they got married.”
He really didn’t like the message he was inferring from her statement, and he leaned back a bit, so that he could look down at her. His voice was low, the words emerging from him very deliberately. “What changed?”
“He just. . . I know everyone else said I was just being a spoiled brat, but he’d look at me really funny, like I was a toy or something he owned. And he’d walk into the bedroom and bathroom when I was alone, and just. . . he was creepy.” She wouldn’t look at him. “He never touched me or anything. I didn’t give him the chance. I . . . he came into my room once and I started locking my bedroom door after that. He took down the door and then put a lock on the outside, so he could lock me in.”
She sighed, staring at her fingers spread over his chest. “That’s when my mom starting taking his side. I got grounded for everything, even stupid stuff like forgetting to wipe the counters and . . . he hit me. Once.”
“What happened?” He practically growled out the question, the words rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest.
“I pushed him. He followed me into the bathroom and I didn’t like it. So I pushed him away.”
Will could feel how tense and upset she was, how much confessing what drove her away from her home affected her. He’d thought briefly about sending her back there, for safety, but quickly changed his mind listening to her story. He wasn’t going to send her into that kind of a situation. No doubt, the bastard would have touched her, probably molested her or beaten her, and her mother wouldn’t have done a damn thing to help her. “You did the right thing. Shouldn’t let anyone touch you like that.”
He hugged her, then let her go. “What made you come to New York?”
“It was the last address I had for my dad. But he wasn’t . . . I couldn’t find him. He’d moved. I don’t know where he is. And I’m never going back to my mother’s.” Defiance colored her tone, for a moment, then she added, in a very soft, small voice, “I’m not really sure she’d want me back, anyway.”
“Why’s that?”
“Coz, when I pushed Ted, he fell down the stairs and broke his leg.”
An involuntary laugh escaped him. “Good on you, kitten. Wanker deserved it.”
She laughed with him. “Yeah, I guess he did.” Her laughter disappeared quickly though, when something crossed her mind. “You aren’t gonna make me go back there coz I’m underage, are you?”
“We’ll figure somethin’ out, kitten. No sense puttin’ you back in harm’s way.” Will surprised himself with just how much he meant that. While living on the streets wasn’t an option, because he could still sense the innocence about her, he wasn’t going to let the courts decide she belonged back with her mother. “Jus’ how old are you?”
“Sixteen. Nearly seventeen.” He pulled back to look at her, disbelief clear in his eyes. “Okay,“ she sighed. “I’m almost sixteen.”
“How long you been out on the streets?” Will wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to these questions, but he had to. If he was going to help her, he needed the truth. Just like she eventually needed to know how dangerous things really could get, but he’d wait until she was a bit stronger for that.
“Not very long. I had . . . I took money when I ran away.” He raised his eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. “I took it out of the money my dad sent for me, and I took a lot of it. I’ve really only been working for a couple of weeks.”
“How much money, kitten?”
She didn’t want to tell him. Buffy wasn’t sure which was going to get her into more trouble, breaking Ted’s leg or stealing her own money. “Over five thousand.”
“Jesus Christ, kitten,” he exclaimed, whistling low. “That’s a fair bit of dosh for someone your age.”
“Well it was really mine anyway.” The defensive tone was back in her voice and he smoothed a hand over her shoulder, letting it rest against the small of her back.
“Relax, sweetheart, ‘m not gonna run you in for stealin’, ‘specially not your own money.” He didn’t bother to mask the relief he felt, knowing she wasn’t too far gone for him to help. “Jus’ wanna help you, keep you safe.”
Buffy sat up straighter, looking at him in the eyes for the first time. “You know, I really think I believe you.”
“Good. ‘Coz I do mean it.”
He watched as her shoulders drooped and a yawn overtook her. “Go back to sleep, kitten, I’ll be here.”
“Will you stay with me?” She settled into his arms, taking for granted his agreement.
Will chuckled, “You gonna slug me again?”
“I said I was sorry about that.” He could almost hear the pout in her voice.
“Know you did. I’ll just keep one eye open, yeah?”
“Sure, you do that. Never know what might happen while I’m sleeping.”
He laughed again, then pulled the blanket up, covering them both. “Go to sleep, kitten.”
“Yes, Spike.”
He woke up, to find himself curled around the girl, her back to his front, and a handful of warm breast cupped in his hand. Spike cursed under his breath, then gently moved away from her. He didn’t remember falling asleep, and judging by the shadows growing on the wall in front of him, he slept longer than he’d wanted. Ignoring the phone for few more moments, he headed for the bathroom, then the kitchen. The need for something caffeinated and strong hit him and Will gave into the urge before dealing with the messages on his phone.
The first was, as he’d expected, from Gunn. No progress had been made on witnesses from the hotel, which was not surprising. Reilly’s in-laws were pretty powerful and one of the wealthiest families in the country, so it came as no shock at all that the hotel staff preferred to keep their mouths shut.
The second call was entirely different. That one, he couldn’t ignore. He’d asked her assistance, and making her wait more than a couple of hours for an explanation was more than enough time. Nikki wasn’t known for her patience, and he was somewhat surprised she hadn’t shown up at his apartment, demanding answers. Checking the time of her call and realizing it was the last one, Will hit speed dial and waited for her to pick up.
“Bout time you got off your lazy white ass and called me back.” Nikki never wasted time on greetings, just dove right into the heart of the issue. “What was so damned important that you had to hide?”
“Better you don’t know, pet.” Will caught his smile, almost laughing out loud at her next comment.
“When have I ever listened to you, or any other man for that matter?”
“Point taken.” He sighed, almost dropping the phone when he fumbled with teapot and muffins. “Though I think keepin’ you in the dark’ll turn out better for you in the end.”
“Will, you’re an idiot.” When he started to argue with her, her strident tones overrode his comments. “Did you think I became a cop because I liked the hours?”
This time he did laugh. “How about we agree that I’m bein’ overly cautious and that’ll give you the right to tell me you told me so when it all falls to shite.”
She practically purred at him. “Oooh, I do like that idea. Fine. You know where to reach me.”
“That I do, pet. That I do.”
Closing the phone with a snap, he looked to his left, to see Buffy leaning against the door, her eyes fixed on him. “Was that your girlfriend?”
“Ah. No.” He fought the urge to pull her into his arms by reaching into the cabinet for cereal. “You hungry?”
“Sounded like you were talking to a girlfriend.” Buffy shifted her feet. “Lucky Charms? Dude, how old are you?”
“Old enough.” Will opened the box, shoved a handful of cereal in his mouth and grimaced. “It’s stale. Don’t have much else.”
She shrugged, looking away. It was clear she wasn’t happy with something and he found himself explaining the phone call. “Was a girlfriend. Isn’t anymore. Now she’s just a friend.”
“Oh.” A tentative smile bloomed across her bruised face and he smiled back. “Can we make pancakes? I miss those.”
“Don’t know if I’ve got the makings.” Will dug through the cabinets, looking for something he could use and coming up empty. He wracked his brain, trying to remember which of the local spots had pancakes on the menu. The sight of her disappointment was enough to spur him to action. “How ‘bout we head to the corner market an’ pick up the stuff ourselves?”
Instead of making her smile, the sad look worsened. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Bloody hell.” He dumped the cereal box into the garbage, banging his head against the cabinets. “Brought your stuff with us when we escaped from hospital.”
“It’s not exactly what I’d wear for breakfast. Or shopping.” Buffy rubbed her hands over her arms, exposing more bruises. “I don’t exactly look presentable. You’d probably get arrested for beating me or something.”
He had to concede that point. She still looked like hell, a raw cut over across her forehead standing out starkly against her skin. Bruises marred her neck and arms, most of them defensive wounds, and he knew there were others underneath the tee-shirt. Poor girl was just one big, massive bruise and he couldn’t ask her to go out looking that way.
“Yeah, that could be a problem.” Making a split-second decision, Will grabbed his wallet and jacket. “Be right back, sweets. Gonna kip down to the market myself. Anything else you want?”
She shook her head, but he could see longing for something in her eyes. “Is it okay if I watch teevee?”
“Sure.” Will started to say something, hesitating when she shuffled a few feet into the living room. She made such a forlorn figure that he didn’t want to add to her misery. Telling himself it was better that he leave her alone and not push things, Will headed out.
Urban Outfitters was between his apartment and the market. Will walked past, then backtracked. Trendy clothing was draped over eclectic furniture and accessories, making a very colorful display in the huge windows. He’d been inside a couple of times, finding the place had off the wall merchandise running the gamut from punk rock memorabilia to designer wear, and knew the place had women’s clothing. Guessing quickly at Buffy’s size, Will scooped up a pair of jeans, then some socks, underwear, sweaters, and a pair of sturdy looking boots; everything she might need for the next couple of days.
Feeling a bit better about the situation, Will ducked into the corner market.
Twenty-five minutes later, Will emerged into the mid-morning sunlight, laden down with six bags of groceries and the bag from Urban Outfitters. Buffy’s remark earlier about missing pancakes – of all things – goaded him into purchasing other things she might be missing. Like strawberries. And bacon. And chocolate.
Everything he could think of that smacked of comfort and home and . . . Will had no idea why he’d bought some of the things, until he was unpacking everything. Feeling her eyes on his back, he turned around to find her leaning over the counter, watching him.
“Hey, kitten. Still hungry?”
“Ahuh. Whatdidya buy?” The words ran together, and he could tell she was feeling a little better, because there was more animation in her eyes, and her coloring – aside from the bruises – had returned to almost normal.
Continuing to unload his haul, Will answered off-handedly, “Bit of this an’ that. What’s your fancy?”
“You got stuff for pancakes, right?” She bounced up on her toes and he ducked his head, smiling at the sight.
“I did. Got syrup and bacon. Strawberries, too.” He held them up to show her and was rewarded with a huge grin.
“Ohhh, I love strawberries. What else did you get?”
Will looked down at the bag on the floor. A slightly teasing smile pursed his lips and he grinned at the girl. “Bought something else.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head, confusion wrinkling her forehead. “What else did you buy? I thought you were only gonna get stuff for pancakes.”
Will presented her with the bag. “Here you go, kitten. Thought this might make you feel better.”
Buffy stared at him for a minute or two, trying to figure out what he meant. She didn’t reach for the bag until he gestured at her a third time, and when she did, she dropped her gaze and mumbled softly, “You didn’t have to do anything else for me.”
“Wanted too. Go ahead an’ take a look.” Spike turned away, focusing on the pancakes and bacon while trying not to think about the girl behind him. He could try and fool himself into believing what he’d done was because she needed the help – shielding her from Reilly’s thugs wasn’t that much of a hardship – but fixing breakfast? Buying her clothes?
Those were not actions of a man who cared only because she was a witness.
Rustling noises signaled she was at least looking through the bag, which made him smile, but it was the deep sigh that had him turning around to look at her. “Buffy?”
She was trying so hard to be strong and not show any weakness, he could see from the set of her shoulders. But he could also see the tightly clenched fists holding the bag and the harsh bite she had on her lower lip. He glanced from her hands to her eyes and what he saw had him around the counter faster than his conscience could caution. “Buffy?”
Teary greenish-hazel eyes peaked out at him from scraggly blond hair. “This is . . . I can’t take these from you. You so didn’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, I did.” He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “You need it, sweetheart an’ . . . “ His voice trailed off when she gave a little shudder and nearly collapsed against his chest.
“How come you’re being so nice to me?” The words were muffled by his body, though he didn’t have any trouble hearing her.
“It’s nothing, kitten.” Will hugged her then stepped away, trying to keep some distance between them. “Let’s get some nosh, an’ then we’ll see how you’re feeling.”
“Kay.” She was quiet for a few moments, then asked him, “Is it okay if I shower?”
“Sure. Towels are in m’bedroom, in the closet. Jus’ be careful, yeah?” He glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes tracking her slow movements across the floor.
“Yup. I’m careful girl.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, though, and her steps were measured.
Twice – at least that’s the number of times he was admitting – Spike found his mind drifting to his witness while he fixed their breakfast. Her being gone from the kitchen wasn’t the help he’d expected it to be. He had no idea what to do with her, or why he felt such a need to protect her.
Bacon sizzled in the pan, the fat crackling and popping sharply, forcing his attention. Will ran a hand through his curls. Focus, mate. Breakfast. Then worry about the girl.
Too soon for his liking, breakfast was ready and he reluctantly made his way to the bathroom. “Kitten? You okay in there?”
“Yup. Almost done.” He could hear her moving around, the noises muffled through the door.
“Right. Pancakes are done.”
“Oohhhh. Be right out.”
True to her word, Buffy was out of the bathroom before he cleared the kitchen doorway.
“Yum.” She reached around him, snagging a pancake. Spying the sugar bowl, Buffy grabbed it and one of the spoons he’d set out. Sugar got sprinkled over one side and she rolled the pancake, neatly shoving it into her mouth.
He watched as she repeated the action a couple of times, then did the same with a handful of strawberries. A happy grin crossed her features, marred only by the fullness of her cheeks. Will didn’t bother hiding his laughter. “Guess you really were hungry.”
“Been awhile since I’ve had pancakes. Or strawberries.” Buffy stole a piece of bacon from him. “Or this.”
He didn’t want to dwell on what she had been eating, or in what kind of dives she’d been frequenting, almost afraid to find out that she was skipping meals and sleeping on the street.
They ate in companionable silence, both unwilling to disturb their peace. Buffy was confused by his actions; he was the first person in a long while to actually care what happened to her. She was afraid if she brought up the subject, he’d stop being so nice – or worse, expect something from her. Though as she looked at him again, Buffy realized she’d have no trouble pretending with him. Lowering her eyelashes, she took another, longer look at him. Nope, won’t have to pretend at all. He’s a hottie.
At that moment, she realized again, just how lucky she was. Will could have been a total asshole, turned her over to Social Services or locked her up.
But he hadn’t.
He’d protected her, gotten her out of the hospital, brought her to his home – fed and brought her clothes. Unexpected tears flooded her eyes and Buffy choked on a strawberry.
“Thank you, Will. For all this.”
Spike picked up his head sharply, watching her with compassionate eyes. “No problem, kitten.“
I know. I suck. I'm sorry it's been so long since this was updated, but real life intervened and I wasn't able to stay on track. I'm hoping that the last couple of weeks have been a way back to normal, but I'm not sure. Though I do promise to keep updating everything. And just to keep me on the right track, be kind and nice to the author and leave her a nice review. Nice reviews mean more incentive to write. Thanks! Nia