Chapter Forty
Time Out
As Brad drove Spike to his and Laura’s apartment he was pleased that Spike had wanted him to tell Buffy and Angel of his decision to leave the hotel for a while. Neither of them had reacted well to it. Both initially accused Brad of influencing Spike until in the end he’d lost his temper and yelled at them to think of someone other than themselves for a change. He’d stepped back a bit quickly as Angel’s eyes flashed amber, but then the vampire apologised and said that whatever Spike needed was the most important thing.
Brad had braced himself against Buffy’s reaction to the fact that Spike didn’t want to see either of them before he left. Surprisingly she accepted it calmly although tearfully. Brad knew that it was a measure of how much she truly loved Spike. He’d called Laura and she’d quickly offered to go to stay with a girlfriend for a couple of days so that Brad could be alone with Spike. Moira had agreed to him taking a few days off work.
“We’re here,” said Brad as he drove into his building’s underground garage.
He noticed how Spike waited until he got out of the car before he climbed out and stood with his back to it, his eyes darting nervously about. In the elevator Spike leant against the back wall, trying and failing to look casual, the tension in him given away by a tic in a muscle on his jaw. Spike didn’t seem to relax until he was in the apartment and Brad had locked the door.
Brad showed him the small guest bedroom and Spike put his bag in there and spoke for the first time since leaving the Hyperion.
“Thanks,” he said simply.
Brad wondered if Spike really ought to be with Moira, she was the psychiatrist after all. When he’d called her about Spike she said that the fact that he’d asked Brad for help was important. He obviously felt that he could trust him. She’d talked Brad through what he might expect from Spike, who was surely suffering from posttraumatic stress. She’d told Brad to contact her at any time, day or night, if he was worried.
“So do you want to talk?” asked Brad, not really sure how to get started.
Spike smiled at him a touch sadly. “I’ll try. Would appreciate a drink though, mate.”
“Okay, make yourself at home,” said Brad, pointing to the couch, “I’ll go and see what we’ve got.”
Neither he nor Laura were big drinkers but a rummage in the back of a cupboard revealed a dusty bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured a good measure in a glass then, after a moment’s hesitation, poured one for himself.
“Here you go.” He handed Spike the liquor and sat in the armchair opposite him.
“Cheers,” said Spike gratefully.
He took a large sip, relishing the fiery feel as the alcohol seared its way down his throat. Slowly, hesitantly, Spike began to tell Brad of his ordeal at the hands of Nemol. When he described the viewing day and how he’d been spread-eagled for display, how he’d heard every demon’s plans for him should they be the purchaser, Brad felt sick, and gulped a mouthful of liquor, coughing and spluttering at its taste.
Spike smiled, “Easy, mate.”
“Sorry Spike, it’s just…”
“Yeah, I know. If it’s too much for you I’ll shut up.”
“No, Spike, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me but fuck, I’m glad that Nemol is dead.”
Spike nodded then carried on. He told of how invasive it had felt to be controlled by someone else. How petrified he’d been walking to the door before Brad stopped him, knowing that he would die and that seeing him killed like that would destroy Buffy. He paused, eyes brimming with unshed tears, twirling the now empty glass in his hands. Brad stood up and took the glass from him, then went to get him a refill and give him a little break. When he gave him the drink Spike nodded at him gratefully and took a mouthful before continuing.
“I know I had to be taken off the Yenomi blood,” said Spike, “But…they tied me up and…and …left me alone.” He met Brad’s eyes. “It hurt, Brad, more than anything I’ve ever known, and I’ve died a couple of times. I was screaming in agony and they left me alone.”
“In fairness to Angel, you did actually bite him one time,” said Brad, unsure of what else to say.
“Did I?” Spike managed a low chuckle, “Never got to do that when I was a vampire.”
“They just didn’t know what else to do, Spike,” said Brad, defending them though he’d been unable to believe his eyes when he’d seen what they’d done.
“Yeah, I know. But I still feel…oh I dunno what I bleeding feel,” he said in frustration, “I thought that I was okay, I really did, then when we went out for something to eat all I could think about was what if someone caught me again and this time just took me out of this dimension. Then they could do what they wanted and no one would be able to help me.”
“It’s understandable to be afraid, Spike, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of. No one’s so strong that something like that wouldn’t leave its mark for a while,” said Brad.
“For a while? So it’ll pass? I’ll get over it?”
“I’m sure you will, Spike but like the progress with your legs, it may take a while.”
Spike yawned.
“Do you want to call it a night?” asked Brad.
Spike shook his head adamantly, “No.”
Brad looked at him quizzically and Spike looked down into his glass.
“Don’t want to have another soddin’ dream like that,” he said brokenly.
In response to Brad’s gentle prompting Spike told him what the dream had been like. Brad paled as he described it. He didn’t think that he wanted to go to sleep with those images in his mind, let alone Spike.
“Um…would you like to play a game of Crash Bandicoot?” asked Brad, hoping that Spike wouldn’t mind that it was an old game. To his surprise Spike’s face lit up.
“Yeah, mate, that’d be great. I haven’t really played it since…um…since I had my hands reattached.”
“Reattached?” said Brad weakly.
“Yeah, long story. Tell you another time, okay? So are you going to get it or what?”
“Er…all right,” replied Brad, amazed at how lightly Spike had just mentioned having his hands reattached. “I don’t want to know half of what this guy has been through or I’ll never sleep again.”
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They played until they could play no more. Brad walked with Spike to the guest room. He could tell that Spike was still nervous about sleeping and he made a mental note to get a prescription of sleeping pills for him from the doctor at Rosedene.
“I’m just across the hall if you need me, okay?” reassured Brad, watching Spike approach the bed as if he expected it to bite him. “It doesn’t matter what time or anything.”
Spike kept his eyes downcast, “Thanks, mate.”
He jumped as Brad closed the door behind him. Spike got undressed and put on a pair of pyjama bottoms and sat on the bed. His heart was racing. He placed a hand on his chest; being able to feel his heartbeat was still something that surprised him. He wriggled further onto the bed and leant his head back against the headboard. He concentrated on his breathing and tried to calm himself down. Gradually, as his heart rate steadied and without even realising it, he drifted off to sleep.
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Buffy lay on the bed in the apartment. It was the closest thing to Spike that she could get to. She curled up miserably, her small frame lost in the vastness of the king-sized bed. She felt hurt that he’d turned to Brad for support and not her. She could understand why he wouldn’t want to stay at the hotel after the way that he’d been treated and all that he’d been through. The Spike he’d been before would have laid himself open emotionally to her but he’d been changed by his experiences and still seemed to worry that she’d think less of him if he showed weakness. He didn’t know that she loved him all the more for it. It proved that the demon was gone and what was left was a truly remarkable human being - one she couldn’t live without. She finally fell asleep and dreamt of banishing any demons that haunted him.
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Spike tossed and turned on the bed as the dreams once more took over his mind; endless repetitions of torture, maiming, being ordered to do things and being unable to resist despite the pain that those orders caused. His body was drenched in sweat as he cried out as the dream shifted and another knife was wielded. His body tied down, escape impossible. The knife cut deep. He screamed.
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Brad woke with the echo of Spike’s scream ringing in his ears. He raced to the guest bedroom. He paused at the door, amazed that Spike was still asleep after such a bloodcurdling scream. Spike’s whole body was tensed, spread-eagled on the bed as if tied down. The covers were long since kicked to the floor. Brad hesitated - should he wake him? Surely that would be better than reliving whatever horrors were present in his dream. As he walked to the bed wondering how to do it without scaring him further, Spike suddenly went limp. For a second Brad thought that he was dead, then he noticed Spike’s shallow breathing and heard him whisper. He leaned in closer to hear what he was saying.
“Buffy, you came for me.”
Brad stood up and watched him for a time. Spike rolled over onto his side and looked comfortable. Brad pulled the covers over him and went back to his room. Whatever Spike had been dreaming seemed to have passed and he hoped that now Spike could get some proper rest.
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The knife dug into his leg and the pain was incredible. As Spike screamed the ancient Polgara and Nemol just laughed.
“Is that the right place?” asked Nemol, indicating the wound he’d inflicted.
“Yes, thank you. I’m so glad that we decided to leave his tongue until last,” remarked the Polgara casually.
Nemol swapped the knife for a bone-saw. He put a strap around Spike’s thigh and pulled it as tightly as he could. He didn’t want Spike to bleed out from the customisation he was about to perform.
“I hope that he remains conscious at least until the castration is done,” said Nemol, “It’s never any fun doing that if they don’t know about it.”
“Bit of a shock to wake up to, though,” chuckled the Polgara.
Nemol turned to reply but stared in horror as the Polgara fell to the ground an axe buried in his skull.
“What was that about castration?” said Buffy, slowly spinning a smaller axe in her hand, the light dancing on its razor sharp edge. She smiled as she saw Nemol drop the bone-saw and begin to back up. “You being conscious works for me. How about you, Spike? Should he be asleep or awake when I rip his balls off?”
Spike stared at Buffy, unable to believe his eyes.
“Buffy, you came for me,” he whispered.
“Like I’d leave you here, you dope,” she smiled, “Now where was I? Oh, yes, about here.”
She threw the axe at Nemol. It hit the exact mark that she aimed for, almost severing his left ankle. Screaming, Nemol collapsed to the ground but kept trying to back away. She strode over to him and yanked the axe out of his leg, eliciting another shriek.
“Please don’t,” begged Nemol, hands outstretched, “I’ll give the money back. It wasn’t personal.”
Buffy turned her back to him and walked to Spike, untying him and kissing his lips.
“Did you hear that? Wasn’t personal, he says.” Buffy said to Spike as she helped him to sit up on the table and hang his legs over the edge of it. Spike couldn’t speak, he just gazed at her in wonder. She squeezed his hand and turned back to Nemol who, by now, was sitting in a pool of blood.
“How much more personal can it get than kidnapping, selling and torturing my boyfriend?” she asked quietly.
“I was just doing my job. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me any more. I’ll leave this dimension and never come back,” pleaded Nemol.
“Take your pants off.”
“W…what?” Nemol glanced at Spike who was still sitting on the table looking a bit out of it. Was she going to let Spike do to him what Nemol had threatened to do to Spike?
“Don’t even look at him,” snarled Buffy, “Just do it.”
Reluctantly Nemol pulled his pants down, and when they were at his knees Buffy slashed with the axe, severing his genitals and his right hand with the blow. For a split second Nemol was silent, looking at his bloody crotch and stump of an arm in shock. Then he screamed and didn’t stop.
“So much better when they’re conscious. I have to agree with you there,” said Buffy coldly. She raised the axe for the killing blow.
“No!”
Buffy turned to see Spike walking towards her. He held out his hand. Wordlessly she gave him the axe and stepped back. It was only right that Spike should do it.
“Don’t need a fucking collar on to make your head leave your shoulders,” said Spike quietly.
He kicked Nemol’s shattered ankle to make sure that the half demon met his eye and then swung the axe neatly lopping off his head. He dropped the axe and then fell to his knees. Buffy’s arms were around him in an instant.
“I’ve got you, you’re safe,” she whispered.
Spike looked at her and smiled slightly, “I’m safe.” Then he buried his face in her shoulder and hugged her close to his body.
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Buffy woke up. “God, that was weird,” she muttered as she climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.
She’d dreamed of killing Nemol. She could almost still smell the blood. It was strange how the scene had played through as if the Polgara had bought Spike and she’d arrived just in time to prevent Spike from being maimed. The injuries inflicted on Nemol were the same as what had actually happened but it had been Spike who’d cut off his head.
She stepped into the shower and closed her eyes as the hot water ran over her body. That was how it should have been. She should have been the first person Spike saw as he was rescued and Spike should have been the last thing that Nemol saw. Her body ached for Spike’s touch. She glanced down and almost fell over as the sight of the water running down the drain being tinged red as if by blood startled her.
“What the hell?”
And then it was gone, the water once more running clear. She shook her head in confusion.
“God, that dream must have really got to me.”
Buffy turned the shower to cold for the last few seconds before she got out, shivering slightly as she wrapped herself in a towel.
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Spike woke up. He looked around the room.
“What?” He put his head in his hands. “It was only a dream.”
He sighed softly. It had seemed so real. He’d wanted it to be real. The satisfaction he’d felt when he’d lopped off that bastard Nemol’s head was a feeling that he didn’t want to lose. He’d felt in control for the first time since the prophecy made him human, if he were honest about it. It was a feeling that he’d missed. He smiled as he recalled Buffy’s words about hurting her boyfriend - she was so certain. So sure of her need to exact revenge on Nemol on Spike’s behalf but had handed him the axe without question so that he could finish it. His body ached for her touch.
Spike threw the covers off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His breath caught in his throat as a stab of pain went through his left leg.
“What the hell?”
Spike stared, transfixed at a patch of blood on his leg just above the knee. He glanced round the room quickly but he knew that he was alone. He pulled down his pyjama bottoms to examine the wound. The small mark left by the Polgara’s skewer as it indicted where his leg was to be amputated was now a couple of inches longer. Spike tentatively touched it, hissing slightly as his fingers made contact. It appeared to be fairly deep.
“Shit,” said Spike as he realised that it was how the wound on his leg had been in the dream. “This is weird.”
He walked over to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, pleased to find that although the cut hurt, it didn’t make him limp. He let the water rinse the blood from his leg, the red tinged water rushing down the drain. He dried himself off on the towel Brad had left out for him, dabbing carefully around the wound, cursing quietly as it began to bleed again. He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom, almost colliding with Brad.
“Sorry, mate, was miles away,” said Spike.
“That’s okay,” replied Brad, “Um…what’s wrong with your leg?” He spotted the blood trickling down it.
“Er…well I had a dream and in it my leg got cut and when I woke up I had the same cut on it. I know that it sounds crazy but it’s the truth. I didn’t do it,” said Spike earnestly.
“Yeah?” said Brad, “No, I believe you,” he added quickly as he saw Spike’s face cloud. “I mean anything’s possible round you guys, isn’t it? But has it happened to you before? Have you had a dream bleeding through to reality? No pun intended.”
“I’ve heard of it but never had it happen to me before now,” replied Spike, “But there was nothing in the room that I could have used to do it to myself.”
“Come on into the kitchen and let me have a good look at it.”
Spike followed Brad and sat down on one of the chairs whilst Brad knelt down and examined the wound.
“This could do with a couple of stitches,” said Brad, “I can do them if you like.”
“You’re a useful kind of a fella, aren’t you?” teased Spike, “That’d be great, thanks. Had my fill of hospitals and such just lately.”
A few minutes later and Spike’s wound was stitched up and looking much less inflamed.
“So what was going on in the dream other than you got stabbed?”
Brad couldn’t help but sit open mouthed as Spike recounted his dream.
“Funny thing is that it felt like a memory and not a dream. I feel better knowing that I killed the git,” said Spike quietly.
“Do you feel up to going outside then?” asked Brad, wondering if Spike’s feeling of well-being would survive leaving the apartment without his becoming distressed.
Spike’s intense blue eyes met his and Brad knew that Spike saw it for what it was - a test.
“I’ll try, okay?”
“Great. As soon as we’re ready we’ll go out and grab us some breakfast,” said Brad, knowing that Spike had felt very vulnerable when he was eating with Buffy and Angel the day before.
Spike walked to the diner that Brad had chosen without feeling too stressed. The only time he really tensed up was when someone bumped into him from behind but Brad had steadied him and when the person apologised he felt himself relax again. He’d smiled sheepishly at Brad. Once inside Brad hung back to let Spike choose where to sit. After glancing around Spike slid into a seat that enabled him to have his back to the wall. Brad guessed why and didn’t think that it was anything to worry about. He sat down opposite Spike. By the time the waitress came with their order Spike was looking comfortable at being there. In fact he sounded more like the Spike that Brad had known before the kidnapping ordeal. That strange dream seemed to have eased his fears.
The two men made their way back to Brad’s place, chatting and joking in a way that neither would have thought possible the day before. They’d just got in when Brad’s cell rang; it was Buffy. She asked how Spike was doing. Brad glanced over at him and mouthed ‘Buffy’ to him. Spike nodded and held out his hand for the phone. He wanted to hear her voice so badly. He went into the bedroom before speaking to her.
“Buffy,” he said softly.
“Are you all right?” Buffy asked, the concern evident in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m a bit better, I reckon. Sorry about running out but…it was all too much…you know?” He was desperate for her to know that he hadn’t run from her as such, rather from the situation.
“I know, Spike. I get it. Don’t worry.”
Spike felt himself relax.
“I don’t remember much between you getting me out and waking up after the withdrawal - just bits and pieces. I…I didn’t hurt anybody, did I? That’s not why I was put in that straightjacket, is it?”
“No, it’s okay, you didn’t,” replied Buffy.
Something in her voice made him think that she wasn’t being honest with him. He gasped as the memory of him punching her flashed through his mind.
“Spike? Spike?” said Buffy urgently.
“Oh, Buffy…I hit you.” He slumped onto the bed. “I’m…” He was going to say sorry but it didn’t seem enough. He stared at the phone in horror and severed the connection. His mind was full of when he’d attacked her in the bathroom at Revello Drive before he’d sought out his soul. He was trapped in the past.
tbc
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BANNER BY DAWNOFMEAuthor's Chapter Notes:
thanks as ever to Carol for her beta work!! And to all you readers/reviewers!! :)