“Um, I think you’re going to have to say that again,” Spike replied with a frown.
“I said I’m going to help you kill Angelus,” Buffy repeated. “What, are you deaf or something?”
“No, I just…” Spike ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I thought you loved him, is all.”
Buffy snorted, Angelus’s harsh words from earlier in the evening still ringing in her ears. “Vampires don’t love, Spike.”
Spike nodded. He’d known that, after all. “Right. But I’m still not getting the whole turncoat thing, pet. And excuse me for being cynical, but I’m not exactly trusting you right now either.”
“Hey, I’m the one who just came back to a place where I spent a day of horror, buddy. I shouldn’t be trusting you.”
Spike arched an eyebrow. “Do you?”
Buffy was quiet for a moment, thinking about the question, before she replied, “Yeah. I guess I do. More or less. You strike me as one of those noble types.”
Her response made him laugh, though it wasn’t a particularly happy sound. “I tortured you and almost killed you.”
“Yeah, you did. But it wasn’t anything personal.” Buffy shrugged. “You wanted something from me, and you had a good reason to want it. Now you’ve got it.”
“So you’re going to tell me where I can find him?”
Buffy shook her head. “That’s not going to be good enough. If you don’t trust me about anything else, trust me here – going after Angelus on your own will not get you the revenge you want. He’s in the middle of vying for control of Los Angeles, and he’s become super paranoid in the meantime. He’s got guards, surveillance – you’d never even get close to him. Odds are, you’d be taken out by a sniper before you even reached the door.”
Spike frowned harder. Vampires armed with sniper rifles were not what he was used to dealing with. “So how are you going to help me then?”
“I know the layout. I know the guards, I know when they change shifts. I know exactly how to get you in, and I’m more than willing to help you in a fight.”
Spike cleared his throat. “Um, no offense, pet, but, um… You’re not really in any condition to do any of that.”
“Not at the moment, no,” Buffy conceded. “But I can be, given time.”
“How much time?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never been this badly damaged before. But with enough blood…”
Spike cut her off. “I don’t care what you’re offering me, you try to kill a human, and you’re dust. No exceptions.”
“Yeah, I kinda guessed that, sherrif,” Buffy grumbled. “Geez, give me some credit. It isn’t as powerful, or as tasty, but I can drink animal blood. Butcher shops carry it.”
“Oh.”
“Look, you can chain me back up if you want. All I really need right now is sleep and blood. And when I’m better, I’ll help you get rid of Angelus.”
Spike crossed his arms over his chest, still not sure if he could accept her offer at face value. It could very easily all be a trick. It still didn’t make sense to him that she’d come back to him after what he’d done to her, or that she’d want to kill Angelus after being so loyal to him only a few hours earlier. The one thing that did make sense was that she was tricking him in order to lure him back to Angelus, in which case he should just do what he should’ve done earlier and stake her.
However, even if it was a trap, it could be his best shot at getting close to Angelus. If she was telling the truth about his current security measures, then he’d need someone on the inside to get to the vampire. Even if that person on the inside was setting him up, it was still something he could use to his advantage.
It would take a few days for her to heal, of that much Spike was certain. In the meantime, he could try to get what information he could out of her, hope she lowered her guard down enough to tell him things that would be of help.
And in the end, all he wanted was a chance to face Angelus. If it resulted in his death, so be it.
“Then what happens?” he asked, trying to keep his face as emotionless as possible. “You just go on your merry way?”
“That’s up to you. You can let me go, or you can stake me. I really don’t care which one at this point.”
Something in her tone unnerved him. She sounded so…broken. He tried to push away the guilt that came with that realization, though it didn’t seem to want to leave him.
“Yeah, all right. Let’s get you chained back up.”
Buffy stood up from the couch, though her legs gave out from under her immediately, and she fell to the ground. She tried to push herself up, only to slump forward, and she cursed loudly, hating her weakness.
“It’s all right, pet,” Spike said, the softness of his tone surprising even him as he went over to her. He picked her up, cradling her body in his arms as he brought her into the bathroom. Her mouth was close to his neck, yet somehow, he knew she wasn’t going to bite him.
He set her carefully against the wall before he went to the tub, rinsing it out, then wiping it down with a towel to make sure there was no holy water lingering that might cause her further damage. She didn’t offer any resistance when he placed her into the tub and chained her back up, though he heard her hiss in pain when the manacles rubbed against her burns.
Spike steeled himself against reacting to her pain. Despite her weakened state, she was still a vampire and she was still dangerous. He couldn’t allow her to move around freely.
“I’ll find a butcher shop first thing in the morning,” he promised her as he finished securing her to the bathtub.
Buffy only nodded her assent as she curled up against the side of the tub.
Spike said nothing else as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Buffy was beyond the point of exhaustion, but she couldn’t sleep. Her body ached, and the hard, cold bathtub did nothing to help her get comfortable. Her mind played her confrontation with Angelus on a loop, filling her with heartache and self-loathing. She was miserable. Cold, alone, rejected.
She cried softly, huddled as best she could manage, given the chains. Hunger gnawed at her, only adding to her overall pain. She’d never had to go this long without feeding before, and it was even more horrible than she would’ve imagined.
The door to the bathroom opened and she gasped, scrambling to sit up straight. “Shh, pet, it’s all right,” Spike said softly as he approached her, his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore.”
And he didn’t. Instead, he tucked a pillow under her head and draped a well-worn comforter over her. “Heard you sniffling in here,” he said softly, his hand lingering a little too long on her back as he tucked the comforter around her.
“Thank you,” Buffy replied, her hand gripping the blanket.
“The butcher should be open soon. I’m going to head on out now. I’ll be back as soon as I have blood for you.”
“Okay.”
He left her alone again then, and Buffy clutched the pillow tightly.
Buffy woke to the scent of fresh blood. She snarled, her vampire face coming forward unbidden as she pulled at her chains. She didn’t remember where she was, only that she was so very hungry…
“Easy, pet,” a gentle male voice coaxed her, a strong warm hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “I’ve got blood for you right here.”
Buffy let out a low, shaky breath, calming as everything came rushing back. “I’m so hungry,” she told him, her voice weak.
“I know. I’m going to unchain your hands, all right? Just long enough for you to drink this.”
Buffy nodded, then grew still, letting Spike release her hands. He gave her a mug then, and Buffy wrapped her hands around it, trembling as the smell of warm blood wafted upwards.
However, when she took her first drink, she winced. “Ugh. Blech.”
“Something wrong with it?” Spike asked, and Buffy thought she might have detected actual concern in his voice.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just…” She winced. “Pig’s blood.”
“Is that the wrong kind?” Spike asked. “I got cow and chicken, too.”
Buffy looked at him askew. “You got three kinds of blood?”
Spike shrugged. “I didn’t know what you’d like.”
“Well, this is fine. It’s not human, so it’s all going to taste equally nasty. Kind of like eating a Big Mac when you’re used to filet mignon.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not knocking over a blood bank.”
Buffy smirked. “I didn’t expect you to,” she said before taking another drink of the blood. It was horrible, but she was starving and in no position to be picky anyway. She drank the contents of the mug quickly, though they weren’t enough to quell the raging hunger inside of her.
“Do you need more?”
“Please.”
Spike refilled her mug from the container he brought in the bathroom with him. Buffy finished that one, too, followed by two more before she’d finally had enough.
“Is that better now?” Spike asked.
“Yeah.” Buffy yawned, feeling pulled towards sleep again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Spike replied, though some gruffness had crept back into his voice. He put her hands back in the manacles before gathering up the rest of the blood and leaving her alone in the bathroom again. Buffy curled up in the tub again and went back to sleep.
Spike paced the short length of his apartment, his heart thudding in his chest. He didn’t know what was happening to him, what drove him to keep showing kindness to the demon he had chained up in the bathroom. He’d dealt with her kind countless times in the past, and never had he cared one way or another about their comfort.
He certainly wouldn’t have brought them bedding because he couldn’t stand to hear them cry…
He tried to tell himself it was guilt over his treatment of her and the marks she still bore from the ordeal, but that wasn’t a good enough reason for him. He shouldn’t even be feeling guilt over that. So he’d hurt a demon. She would’ve done the same or worse had the tables been turned.
Spike knew he shouldn’t even be bothering to nurse her back to health now. If she’d decided she was willing to bring him to Angelus, for whatever reason, then he should demanding she tell him what he needed to know now, not waiting until she was in better shape. Especially since once this was over, he’d have to see it she was dust anyway.
He didn’t like how a part of him rebelled at that either.
It made no sense at all, how she’d gotten under his skin. No woman had elicited a tender feeling from him in a decade, and that it was a vampire doing it now was completely insane. She was a disgusting, evil creature for which he should feel nothing but contempt.
Spike stopped pacing and went to his leather duster, digging around in the pockets until he retrieved a pack of cigarettes and his silver Zippo lighter. His hand shook as he lit the cigarette, and the first drag did nothing to calm him the way it should. His nerves were still on edge, too aware of the woman in the bathroom.
“Not a woman, mate,” he mumbled to himself. “A demon. Gotta remember that.”
He sat on the edge of the couch, body tense, and wondered if perhaps this was going to end up even worse than he’d first thought.
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