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Author's Chapter Notes:
Really anxious about starting my new (old) job tomorrow. It's hard to write when I'm so tense, but I hope you like this chapter! Thanks!
Chapter Four:

He was angry and insistent and everything a best friend shouldn't be at that moment. He was exhausted and jittery from the wretched coffee, and what little of his brain that was still functioning kept repeating the same thing over and over again—must destroy the sick bastard that hurt my Buffy. He was determined that his pleas for her to go to the police not turn into desperate begging, and this coupled with his fatigue caused him to seem a bit harsher than he intended.

He trailed after her as she zeroed in on his DeSoto in the emergency room parking lot. Watching her clop along in a pair of too-large borrowed tennis shoes did nothing to lessen his ire. He was angry at the situation. He was angry at the monster who put this night into motion. He was angry at himself for not being there to protect her. The one thing he wasn't angry at was her, but she was there, and he was oh so frustrated.

"Dammit, Buffy, slow down! This isn't a race," he grumbled. She kept the same rapid pace until she arrived at the passenger side of his car. He unlocked her door first and shook his head as she threw it open and jumped in the car like it pained her to be outside. He shuffled around to the driver's side and was soon seated next to her in the stuffy vehicle.

"Buffy," he stated with that tone he always got whenever he thought she was being especially senseless.

"No, Spike," she cut in before he could say anything further. "Just leave it alone. I'm not going to talk to the police tonight."

"Buffy," he repeated, "this is ridiculous, pet. You can't possibly feel comfortable with this bastard running around out there. For all we know, he's out doing this to some other girl. He—"

"Don't say that!" she cried, startling him with her sudden intensity. "I can't, Spike! I just can't! It's too much! Can't you understand that?!" She was breathing heavily as she lapsed into silence following her outburst.

Spike blinked as her chest heaved in the baggy blue top. "Pet," he began tentatively, "it's just..." He trailed off as he noticed one rebel tear liberating itself from her eye and making a slow path down her cheek.

"Spike," she whispered shakily, "I just want to go home." She turned her head away from him to stare blankly out the car window.

If the tear hadn't already done him in, then the hopelessness in her voice would have finished the job. God, what kind of wanker was he, browbeating the poor girl. Good job, mate. It's not like she hasn't already been through hell tonight.

Working his fingers through his much abused curls, he struggled to keep his voice steady, "Okay, pet...I'll...I'll take you home." He was unable to force the resignation from his voice. He heard her mutter something in response, but he couldn't make out the words. "What's that, luv?" he asked softly, frowning at the back of her head.

She glanced over at him before returning her gaze to the window. "I want to go to your apartment. I don't...I don't want to stay at my house."

His frown deepened. While his initial reaction to the whole hospital ordeal was to sweep her away to his apartment and hide her there indefinitely—upon further consideration—he'd changed his stance a bit. He knew she was always extremely comfortable at his place, but he was sure she'd want to sleep in her own bed tonight. And she'd certainly have a lot more room to breathe in the huge house she'd inherited from her mother than in his tiny apartment.

"Kitten..." He waited to see if she'd turn her head to look at him. She didn't. "Sweetheart," he started carefully, "I can stay with you at your house if you want. I won't just leave you there."

She continued to look away from him as she replied, "No...Spike...I just...I can't be in that house right now..."

Spike shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Idiot. You just traumatized her with the hospital. Of course, she doesn't want to go to her dead mother's house. "Buffy, do you need..."

Finally, she turned her head to face him. Even though he had seen them before, he was still unable to stop himself from flinching at her bruised cheeks and ragged lips. "Please," she murmured softly, "let's just go straight to your place."

He nodded his assent, "All right, luv. Let's go home." With that, he put the key in the ignition, and a moment later, they were on their way.

He didn't attempt to engage her in any conversation on the drive to his apartment. Truthfully, he didn't know what to say to her past insisting that she report her...assault to the police. As is, not bringing that subject up again was causing him immense frustration. He was gripping the steering wheel so tightly he thought it might snap apart. He really needed to get a hold of himself if he was going to be of any use to her.

As he angled into his parking lot, he glanced over at the honey-blonde head next to him. She was leaning heavily against the door, and it took him a moment to realize that she had dozed off at some point on the drive over. He pulled the car to a stop in his assigned spot and removed the keys from the ignition. Leaning back in his seat, he closed his eyes. He was half tempted to doze off right alongside her if it meant he didn't have to disturb her peaceful slumber.

He opened his eyes before his brain had a chance to completely shut down. Knowing it wouldn't be right to actually let her sleep in the car all night, he reached out his hand and placed it lightly on her shoulder. Giving her a gentle shake, he softly called her name, "Buffy...kitten...we're here. Time to wake up now." She jerked slightly as her large hazel eyes drifted open.

She rubbed a hand over her face, wincing at the pressure she put on her injuries. "Spike," she murmured sleepily, "what..."

"We're here, luv. Let's get inside before you doze off again. This car doesn't make the best bed. Trust me, I know." He watched her carefully as she appeared to gradually come back into awareness.

"Yeah...okay." She fumbled with the door handle for a moment before finally getting the door open and stumbling out into the parking lot. Spike slowly dragged his exhausted body out after her. The pair silently made their way to his apartment. He flicked on the lights as they stepped into the living room.

He was about to ask her if she needed anything when she suddenly flipped around to face him. She had a smile pasted on her battered face, but it didn't meet her eyes. "Spike...thanks for letting my stay here..." She looked down at the floor almost shyly, "I just feel safer..."

"It's no problem at all," he reassured her. "You know you're always welcome to crash here, luv. Always have been, always will be."

He was surprised when she let out a little giggle, "It's a good thing you're not with Dru anymore. She hated it when I'd sleep over here. I was always sure she was gonna corner me one day and claw my eyes out." She giggled again and lifted her head, surprised that Spike didn't have anything to add to her comment. Normally, he'd immediately make some humorously snide remark about his loony ex-girlfriend.

Her eyes widened at his pink cheeks and guilty expression. "Spike...noooo..."

He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, "She begged me to take her back...she was crying...I just...I told her we'd make a go of it..." He hated the look of dismay on Buffy's bruised face. This was why he hadn't told her yet. He knew how she'd react.

"Spike! Are you insane?! The psycho bitch cheated on you with half the university! What are you thinking?!" She shook her head incredulously, "I just can't believe it. We've been ragging on the bitch since you dumped her...and you took her back. Jesus, Spike."

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Look, luv, can we discuss this at another time? It's late, and we're both exhausted. Wouldn't want to say anything we didn't mean."

"Oh, I'd mean everything I say," she stated harshly.

Opening his tired blue eyes, he looked at her pointedly, "Buffy...there are more important things we need to be worrying about right now. Right, luv?"

He immediately was hit by a wave of guilt as he could visibly see the light disappear from her eyes.

She wrapped her arms around her body and quietly replied, "Yeah...right..."

"Buffy...I'm sorry, luv, I didn't mean..." He glanced around the room helplessly. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? What was he supposed to do?

"Do you have something I could sleep in? I just...I want to shower...now." It bothered him that she couldn't seem to meet his eyes, but he figured he wasn't doing much better.

"Of course, sweetheart. Why don't you go ahead and get in the shower while I find you something to wear." He smiled at her in what he hoped was an encouraging way. At any rate, she turned and headed for the bathroom. A beat later, he moved towards his bedroom.

He heard the shower kick on as he pulled a worn black t-shirt out of his dresser drawer followed by a pair of black silk boxers with ridiculous little hearts all over them. They had been a gift from an old girlfriend. It wasn't like they hadn't been intimate. The ditzy chit was well aware of his propensity for going bare beneath his jeans, yet she shows up with these silly boxers one day. He would think that she was trying to send him some sort of message if it wasn't for the fact that all of her gifts tended to be completely useless to him. Being that the undergarment was also way too small, he figured they would make perfect sleepwear for Buffy.

He left his room and approached the bathroom door. He gave it a brief courtesy knock before turning the knob. The shower was going, so he figured with Buffy safely behind the curtain, he would just set the clothes by the sink. When he pushed the door open, he was shocked by the cloud of steam that billowed out. She had only been in there for a few minutes.

He laid the clothing on the counter and glanced around the room. Through the haze of steam, he could make out the scrubs and tennis shoes laying on the floor. He tentatively moved towards the shower curtain. "Buffy..." He paused, and when there was no response, he called her name again, "Buffy, are you all right in there? Luv?" He felt his heart sink when, at last, he heard a muffled sob. He bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. "Sweetheart, I'm gonna open the curtain a little...okay?" He didn't expect a response, and he didn't get one. With a shaky hand, he gingerly pulled back the curtain.

As soon as his mind managed to process the sight of the small girl curled up in the bottom of the tub—skin bright red from the near scalding shower spray—he sprung into action. Quickly leaning forward, he turned off the water, drenching himself in the process. He grabbed a towel from the rack and bent over to wrap it around the weeping naked girl. He was surprised when she weakly shoved him away.

"No!" she cried, "Turn it back on! I...please...just turn it back on," she whimpered mournfully.

Tears pricked his eyes at the sound of her pitiful mewling. Looking at this poor, shaking girl—his best friend in the whole world—he'd never felt so helpless in his entire life.

What was he supposed to do?

What was he supposed to do?


Chapter End Notes:
Hope you liked it! Don't worry, there's no chance of Spike permanently tabling the police issue. Let me know if you're into this story! Thanks!



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