Chapter Thirty-Seven
Freedom?
Buffy sat holding Spike for hours, soothing him when he cried out in his sleep and quickly providing him with the Yenomi blood when the cravings kicked in every hour. She hadn’t realised that she’d fallen asleep until she was woken with a kiss.
“Morning, love,” said Spike as she opened her eyes.
She gazed into his bright blue eyes, pleased to see they looked less tortured than before he’d slept. His hair was stuck up in peaks where he’d towelled it dry after having a shower. He looked and smelled absolutely gorgeous. He was wearing his usual black jeans and a black Ghost of the Robot t-shirt that emphasised his physique. He’d lost a little weight through his ordeal but it suited him. His cheekbones were finely chiselled and his torso hard and lean.
Buffy ran a hand through his hair, now free of the oil that Nemol had plastered it with.
“You should have woken me. I could have joined you in the shower,” she said lasciviously, stretching and smiling at him.
“Yeah, well, you looked peaceful and I didn’t want to wake you, and believe me that shite that I was covered in took some washing off.”
He didn’t add that he’d nearly scrubbed his privates raw trying to rid them of any last vestiges of the cream that hadn’t yet been absorbed through his skin. He silently cursed George for his helpfulness as the effect from Nemol’s attention would have waned by now and all would have been well. As it was, absolutely nothing stirred down there.
On the plus side he’d found the supply of Yenomi blood in the kitchen. It had been great to take some when the merest hint of a tremble hit him rather than when he was in pain.
“So where’s Peaches?”
He’d roamed the hotel, savouring the ease with which he moved and the freedom to do what he liked. Spike had laughed out loud as he ran up the stairs. He’d also taken the wheelchair and walking frame from the apartment and put them in a closet at the back of the hotel. He didn’t want to see them again.
“He went to Rosedene last night with Moira to sign your release forms,” replied Buffy, pulling him down onto the bed beside her.
“At night?” Spike raised an eyebrow.
Buffy giggled, “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”
“So Moira and he are…?”
“Looks that way.”
“Brad was there last night too, wasn’t he? He stopped me from going through the door,” said Spike seriously.
“He did. What would that collar have done?”
Spike put a hand on the still livid mark left by it. “It would have blown my head off,” he said, paling slightly, “Had a nice little demonstration to let me know what to expect.”
“Oh God, Spike, thank God you’re safe now,” said Buffy.
She snuggled against him and told him of Laura’s vision and that they all now knew exactly who and what everyone was. They both laughed when she recited how Brad had reacted to seeing Angel’s game face.
“Did he hurt you?” asked Buffy quietly after a pause.
Spike looked at her, his expression unreadable. “No pet, not really. In fact he sped up my healing even more. That wasn’t fun but look at me now - nearly as good as new.”
“But the Yenomi blood…that’s a big problem, Spike,” said Buffy.
“It’ll be fine, love, don’t worry about it. Least that potion he used that stopped me from talking and made me obey orders has worn off,” said Spike, swiftly changing the subject. “Bloody hated that, I did.”
“So if Brad hadn’t stopped you, you really would have just walked through even though you knew what it’d do?”
“Yeah, I knew I didn’t want to but I couldn’t stop myself.” He shuddered at the memory. “Always did have trouble not doing what you told me to do though, Slayer.” He smirked.
“You never left when I kept telling you to go away,” reminded Buffy.
“That’s ‘cause I knew that you didn’t really mean it.”
Buffy gave him a push, “God, ego much.”
She slid her hand down his chest and pushed at the waistband of his jeans.
Spike put his hand over hers and quietly said, “No point in going down there just yet, pet.”
Buffy’s hand stilled, “What do you mean?”
“Um…not gonna be able to perform for about a week courtesy of our friendly neighbourhood Ruoloc demon.”
“George? What has he done to you?” snarled Buffy.
“He cured one problem but caused another one,” said Spike. He untangled himself from her arms and got off the bed. He stood with his back to her. “When I was on show Nemol…well…he made sure that everyone could see what I’ve got, if you know what I mean? He said it’d last for twenty-four hours and by the time George got to me it was bloody agony. So he decided to help me out when I was being made ready for transport. Thing is, the effect from the cream that he made Nemol put on,” Spike closed his eyes at the memory, “Could last a week, so I’m bloody useless to you until then.”
Spike didn’t share his worry that it might be permanent. Almost certain is as good as certain, isn’t it? He prayed that it was. He tensed as Buffy’s arms wrapped around him and her body pressed into his.
“You’re never useless to me, you idiot,” she said.
“I wish that I’d been able to kill him,” whispered Spike.
“Trust me, Spike, he didn’t die easily. He begged for it in the end.”
“Shouldn’t have given him what he wanted then, should you? Could have played with him a bit. Hell, I bet we could have sold him.”
“Shh, Spike. That would make us as bad as him. He had to be stopped and he has been. It’s over, Spike,” soothed Buffy.
Spike shook his head a couple of times to clear his thoughts. Buffy was right. He had to put it behind him. He turned around and kissed her soundly.
“So what should we do, Buffy? Want to go for a walk?”
Buffy smiled at him, “That sounds like a great idea. Let me go and grab a shower.”
As she went into the bathroom Spike wandered through to the kitchen. His eyes strayed to the refrigerator where the Yenomi blood was stored. He hadn’t felt any more tremors yet but it wouldn’t hurt if he had some more, would it? He decided that it wouldn’t and helped himself to another bag. Buffy’s cell phone began to ring. Spike picked it up from the dining table and checked the caller I.D. It was Angel.
“’Lo,” he said as he answered it.
“Spike. How are you doing? I was just calling to see how things were.”
“Yeah, mate, I’m good,” replied Spike, “Had a good night, did you?”
Angel could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.
“I had a great night,” replied Angel with a grin. Moira was amazing, in more ways than one. “I’ll be heading home soon.”
“Don’t rush on my account. When Buffy’s ready we’re going for a walk.”
“God, yeah. The legs - how are they?”
“Feel almost good as new. They always say something good comes out of something bad. I can’t say how amazing it feels to be able to walk without effort again.” His voice cracked a little, revealing how much he’d hated his disability.
“Take it easy. Don’t do too much and I’ll see you later,” said Angel before they said their good byes and hung up.
When Spike heard Buffy drying her hair he glanced at the refrigerator. Better bring a bag with him just in case. He took one out and left it on the counter. He closed the door then wrenched it open again and took another one out. He glanced furtively over his shoulder before quickly cutting it open and drinking it quickly straight from the bag. He buried the empty bag in the bottom of the trashcan.
“Ready?” said Buffy, startling him.
He turned to face her, “Um…yeah.”
“I thought that you might want this.” She held out his leather duster. “Thought it’d make this walk a bit of a celebration of you getting better.”
He took the duster from her and held it close to his chest. God he loved that coat. He put it on, smiling at its familiar feel.
“Thanks, pet.”
He snagged the bag of blood from the counter as they walked past and put it in the deep pocket of the duster.
“Just in case we’re out for a long time,” said Spike, in reply to Buffy’s quizzical look.
“Good idea,” she said a little too brightly. “Looks like George wasn’t wrong when he said it’ll be hard to wean him off it.”
She took his hand in hers and they strolled out into the sunlight.
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Angel was dozing in his bed, catching up on the sleep he didn’t get the night before, when he heard the front door crash open and the sound of running feet. Instantly alert he leapt off the bed, pulled on his pants and ran barefoot down the stairs to see what was happening. Buffy ran in through the door as he got to the foyer.
“Buffy, what the hell…?”
Buffy’s face was tear-stained but it was the bruise on the side of her jaw that made his words falter. Before he could speak he could hear banging and the sound of crockery being smashed in the apartment.
“Spike?”
Buffy nodded, “We were out too long. The withdrawal for the blood has set in.”
“He do that?” growled Angel, pointing to her face.
“Yes, but it’s not his fault. I tried to stop him and his reaction caught me unawares,” said Buffy.
Angel’s features vamped up and he jogged to the apartment. Buffy followed him. Spike was flinging cupboard doors open and flinging their contents to the ground. He turned and glared at Angel and Buffy when they rushed in.
“Where is it?” he snarled, “I know there’s more here somewhere.”
“Just calm down, Spike,” said Angel, features fading to human.
“I’ll be fucking calm when you give me that sodding blood.”
Angel and Buffy could see that Spike was trembling uncontrollably. His fists were clenching and unclenching repeatedly.
“You hit Buffy, Spike. You’re in trouble. You need to let us help you.”
Spike just glared at him and went back to ransacking the cupboards.
“Buffy, leave the room,” said Angel quietly.
“But…”
“No, I mean it – go,” he said firmly.
Buffy looked at the state that Spike was in and suddenly realised that she didn’t want to see what Angel was going to have to do. With a sob she ran out of the apartment.
“Stop it, Spike,” said Angel as soon as the door had closed behind her.
“Fuck off.” Spike didn’t even turn around.
Angel walked a little closer, “Let me help you, Spike.”
Spike turned to face him and drew himself up to his full height. “If you really want to help me, you’ll give me that blood.” He looked Angel in the eye, chin raised. “I’m all right when I have it. Why won’t you let me have it?” His voice was quiet.
“Because it’ll kill you in the end. That stuff is lethal.”
Spike cried out and doubled over, clutching his stomach. Sweat was beading on his brow. He was shaking so much he had trouble staying on his feet. Angel moved in closer still. The spasm passed and Spike straightened up again, panting heavily.
“Please give me some,” he begged, all the fight going out of him, “It hurts so much.”
“Okay,” lied Angel, “I’ll get you some.”
He went to put his arm around his grandchilde’s shoulder. Spike sprang into action, throwing a huge punch at Angel.
“Lying bastard,” he roared.
Angel had anticipated his move but even so he was surprised at the strength behind it and staggered backwards as it hit his shoulder and not its intended target - his face. Angel vamped up and, drawing on his increased power, he punched Spike soundly on the chin. He collapsed unconscious to the floor.
“Sorry,” whispered Angel as he scooped up his limp body.
He strode out of the apartment, grateful that Buffy was nowhere in sight, and went down into the basement. He went to the cage where he himself had once been imprisoned and put Spike down. He was afraid that Spike would hurt himself in his efforts to get out. Angel had only seen someone addicted to Yenomi blood one time and it had ended badly. He smiled briefly as he remembered that he had the ideal thing for keeping Spike from harming himself. His smile faded as he realised how unpopular it would be with Spike but he went to get it all the same.
Working quickly, as Spike was starting to stir, Angel secured him and dribbled some blood into his mouth carefully, making sure that he swallowed it. It would prevent Spike from feeling so bad when he woke up. Once he was satisfied that Spike was fastened in such a way that he couldn’t hurt himself, he walked out of the cage and locked it securely behind him. He went to find Buffy to tell her what he’d done.
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Spike groaned as consciousness slowly crept back. He was pleased to find that the hideous pain in his gut had reduced down to a bit of an ache.
“Peaches must have given me some blood after all.”
His jaw was sore from where Angel had hit him. He tried to bring his hand up to rub it but he couldn’t.
“What the hell?”
He thrashed frantically as he opened his eyes.
“Oh shite!”
His arms were held tight to his body by the straight jacket that he’d been strapped into. His ankles were chained together and fastened to a ring on the floor. He was lying flat on his back in the centre of the cage. Spike rolled over so that he could get onto his knees and with effort managed to stand up. The chain on his ankles didn’t allow him to move more than a couple of inches in any direction. He didn’t bother to shout. He knew exactly where he was and that no one in the hotel would hear him unless they were in the basement with him. With a sigh he lowered himself back down, yelping as his knees struck the concrete floor. He wriggled until he was back in the position that he’d started in. He resigned himself to waiting until Angel returned. He shuddered at the thought that he might not be given any more blood. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to take the pain.
“Freedom? Huh, it ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”
tbc
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BANNER BY DAWNOFME
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BANNER BY DAWNOFMEAuthor's Chapter Notes:
thanks as ever to Carol for her beta work and for your patience waiting for updates whilst I was away seeing JM!! :)