I'm Just a Wind-Up Toy
At the last possible moment Spike fell to his knees, clutched his head and did all the usual things to show how painful it was. Personally, he thought that he deserved Emmy, Grammy and maybe even Oscar for his performance.
A compassionate maiden part to his hero-in-pain play was cancelled though, as Buffy did not fly to console him. It was just as well, he wasn't really suffering anyway. Through his narrowed eyes he watched as both girls checked the vitals of the bloody human.
“Dad? Dad!” Mindy was calling worriedly.
Figures, the girl gets roughed up by her dad and when 'the real hero' turns up to rescue her, the drunkard gets all the attention.
“What's wrong with him?” Mindy asked, gesturing towards Spike.
He groaned for show but when Mindy was still the only one to throw him a glance, he decided to finally get up.
“He'll be okay,” the Slayer said.
Indifferently.
His jaw clenched for a second but he ordered it to relax. Spike rubbed his head. He stopped after a moment; he wasn't sure he wasn't overdoing it but Buffy wasn't paying attention anyway. Besides, he didn't really even have a headache. Or actually... Now he did. It tended to start when he got angry. And now he was suddenly pissed.
Spike's fists clenched and unclenched as he listened to the girls' discussion as to what to do next.
“Spike, do you mind getting us a cab? We have to get him home.”
He glared at the Slayer, but nodded and set off towards the main street.
Half an hour later after having helped Mindy to get her father onto the old lumpy couch in her house, they were outside again.
“What's wrong?” Buffy said.
He didn't look at her. “Do you want to shower first or go straight patrolling?” he asked and congratulated himself on his steady voice and indifferent tone.
“Spike, I know something's wrong, I'm not stupid.”
'There goes the second Oscar then.' But out loud he said, “It's just a headache, Slayer.”
That night they slept in his crypt. It meant that she'd be leaving before the sunrise, but this time he didn't mind it very much. He needed time to think.
All of their arguments went like this. They yelled and raved, insulted each other and then they never talked about it again. Like after she'd got him from Sam's. After she saw him play the piano, she only asked about it just that one time during the sex and never brought it up again. The reasons for the fight never got discussed.
Spike didn't know how to deal with his anger. How too deal with any of it. There was only one option open for him now that she'd manipulated him into not running off after their arguments and asked not to drink. But if he couldn't stay away, if he couldn't vent properly - couldn't fight it off with her, couldn't get pissed, couldn't kill... If he didn't want to be dumped, where did it leave him? The way that Spike saw it, the only option was to not have fights with her. How he was going to pull it off, Spike had no bloody idea. Obviously he had to find a new outlet.
Just this evening she had angered him beyond measure. She'd brushed his pain off so casually, like it was nothing... All right, so he knew that she didn't love him, but a polite 'are you okay' wouldn't have been so difficult to offer now, would it? But it was okay, he could hold it inside of him until she left his bed and then... Suddenly he found himself wishing she had gone home. He listened to her steady breathing; so peaceful, like everything was all right. She always acted that everything was fine, so maybe for her it was? How was it even possible that she didn't sense the big fat elephant in the room?
A stab of pain and loneliness shot through him but Spike pushed it down. 'Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't...' He turned on his side, so that his back was to Buffy. He screwed his eyes shut. Up until now he had managed to hold it inside. Okay, so their coupling had been a tad violent this time, but Buffy had enjoyed it anyway, hadn't she?
'Just don't tell her you're pissed off. Don't like it? Deal with it. You feel neglected? Oh, poor William! Piss poor excuse of a man you are, you ponce! Feel weepy after letting a girl walk all over you like that?'
A growl escaped his tight throat.
'Don't shout, don't argue, don't drink! Don't have A BLOODY OPINION! EVER AGAIN!'
Spike wrenched himself out of the sheets and jumped up.
“Spike?” she said, her voice sleepy.
He felt his nails dig into his palms.
'Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.'
“Spike?”
He heard her getting up from the bed.
“Don't come any closer.”
His voice was quiet but intense. Spike heard her come closer still and he whirled around.
“Don't you ever listen to what I say?” he roared. “Does my opinion count for so little that when I ask you to do this tiny little thing you flat out ignore me and still do what you want?”
Somehow his chest was moving up and down as if he were breathing, and as he heard the blood rush in her veins, Spike realised that he had vamped.
“Spike? What's wrong, baby?” she asked quietly and dare he believe it – somewhat apprehensively?
He closed his eyes, turned his back to her and said quietly, “Go away, Buffy.”
There was not a sound behind him for a minute and he repeated, “However little this relationship matters to you, Buffy, right now I'm begging you, just leave.”
For some ten seconds the silence was deafening, but then he sensed her backing away from him and rustling around with her clothes. Spike sighed in relief. And disappointment.
“We'll talk tomorrow, okay?” she said in a tiny voice.
He didn't find it in him to answer at the moment and she repeated her question. Her voice was calm and controlled and it broke his heart.
“Yes, Slayer, whatever you want. But tomorrow.”
She left.
And a traitorous sob escaped his throat.
Buffy didn't understand. She knew that Spike wasn't entirely happy with his life and maybe their relationship was part of it, but she had no clue what had caused this particular outburst. Like she had no idea why he sometimes felt the need to disappear after their fights. Granted, it hadn't happened for a while now, but she wasn't so conceited as to believe that just because she asked him not to do that he'd never do it again. She understood that at times Spike needed some space to be away from her and maybe that was what it all had been about tonight? Buffy knew that although she always tried not to crowd him, she rarely succeeded; so when he had asked her to leave, she did just that.
She quit the cemetery and turned towards Revello. Buffy wasn't sure that she wanted to go home yet, but what was the point in hanging around so near to dawn? Most of the nasties were already in bed, but as she didn't have work today and wasn't at all sleepy either, she took the longer route. She'd still be home before her mom woke anyway.
Suddenly she remembered the moment when she'd almost thought that his chip had stopped functioning. The long seconds after he'd hit Mindy's father and before the pain kicked in had her paralysed with fear. Sometimes she saw it in her nightmares; Spike hitting a human and realising that he could really do it again - that he could kill. Nightmares about how he ripped into the throats of innocent passers-by and feasted upon them in front of her, knowing that she couldn't kill him.
When Spike had finally fallen on his knees and groaned, all she had felt was relief. She realised that to Mindy it must have seemed strange that she hadn't turned to her boyfriend the moment it happened. But it had been impossible. She didn't want Spike to see the gratefulness for something that hurt him reflected in her eyes nor hear it in her voice.
Maybe she should have apologised for it later, maybe that had been what had angered the vampire so much. But would that have been enough to cause him to kick her out like he had just now? One thing she knew for certain; it wasn't so much anger he felt, but hurt. Was it about her, about something she'd done or something unrelated to their relationship altogether? Buffy was resolved to talk to him - she couldn't bear to lose him over it.
Whatever he thought this relationship was about -
However little this relationship matters to you...
- for her it was about being with a person that she didn't have to hold back with. She could be herself while fighting, talking about what she really thought and letting herself go during sex. At least it had started out that way. Now, she wasn't so sure any more. Was keeping the relationship worth all the pain and uncertainty that came with it?
However little this relationship matters to you...
Might it be that his pain was caused by the same reasons she suffered? Did he think that he was unimportant to her? Could it really be that he cared so much about her that he'd want to know she cared too? Dare she risk everything and tell him what she felt?
Buffy, right now I'm begging you, just leave...
It had been a hard thing to do. She knew that he was hurting and being unable to help him hurt her too. Would he have still asked her to leave if he knew her feelings for him or would Spike have trusted her enough to confide in her? Buffy wondered what would hurt more; knowing that he continued using her while knowing that he meant to her so much more than she to him, or him letting her down gently and breaking it off with her?
She threw the thought aside. She'd see him tomorrow and decide then. She'd know what to say when she saw the look in his eyes. With that resolution she reached home.
She stepped out into the night and spotted him smoking behind the tree. She knew that she was late.
“You could have come in, you know. I know you've been out here for over an hour.”
Spike only shrugged.
“Mom wanted help with the gallery books. Time for annual auditing or something like that.” She paused. “And you knew we were alone in there,” she added somewhat accusingly.
“You could have invited me.”
Buffy had been so full of resolve to talk to Spike about the night and so afraid of it at the same time, that she found herself postponing it. She could have begged off and helped her mother some other evening or she could have asked Spike to come in to wait, but every time she decided upon something, her courage failed her.
Then finally when the books were done and she had run out of excuses, she left the house. Buffy had already opened her mouth to tackle the problem that she really wanted to talk about, but the moment she saw his closed off face, she'd turned her gaze away and quietly started towards the cemeteries. Spike fell in step aside her and for some minutes they walked in silence. She opened her mouth again and closed it. The silence continued and was turning thicker by the second.
Suddenly, she stopped walking and took him by the coat sleeve.
“Spike-”
He grabbed her and crashed his lips on hers. The kiss was urgent and violent. Were she a regular human his hands would have crushed her ribs, but as it was, she was clutching at him just as desperately; her whole body was aflame, trembling, her eyes closed. She broke off from him only when she started feeling dizzy.
For a while they just stood there, holding each other and panting. She couldn't believe that just some hours ago she'd been wondering if it was worth it. Hell, yeah, it was. Anything was worth the way that he made her feel.
“I'm sorry about yesterday,” she said.
She felt him stiffen.
“What?”
“You know... about not...” She swallowed. Buffy wasn't sure if this was what Spike had been upset about, but she hoped that if her apology was vague enough he'd just forgive her and all would be well again.
“About what, pet?”
“Well... you were hurt last night and I didn't...”
Spike's body relaxed.
“That's okay, pigeon. You had other things on your mind I suppose.”
Buffy released the breath that she'd been holding. She'd managed to nail the problem after all.
“Yes, but I still should have...” She looked up at him and stopped. He looked tired; there were dark rings under his eyes and vampires weren't supposed to have those. Had her indifference really bothered him so much? It threw her and she looked away as she babbled on, “It's just that... Look, I know you don't like having the chip, but it's kind of important to me and I'm sorry it's like that, but the things are as they are and I'm what I am and you are-”
“Buffy, stop.”
He stepped back and gripped her forearms. She raised her eyes to his.
“That's okay, love, I understand.”
She swallowed.
“You do?”
He nodded.
“And I'm sorry for freaking out on you like I did.” He looked away and continued thoughtfully, “It's jus'... Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it you know.” He was talking so quietly now that she had to hold her breath to hear him better. “You. Me. Us. Do you think it's worth it?”
He returned his gaze to her. The look in his eyes was intent, searching, as if wanting to find something particular; almost begging for it to be there. If she knew what it was, she would give it to him in a heart beat. Anything. Except for one thing. The question rose in her unbidden and was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“You want to break up?”
As she'd said it, she felt coldness filling her from head to toe. She didn't really want to hear the answer to that.
Then she heard a roar and felt herself being tackled backwards into the bushes. It was something big and weird smelling. She threw it off of her and jumped up. The huge cat-looking demon was not as large as it had seemed at first. It was just a bit on the furry side. In fact, it had more fur than any feline had a right to have.
Spike attacked it from the side but it was quicker than most cats. It whirled and flung the vampire into a heavy headstone. Buffy jumped on it just in time to save Spike's jugular from being sliced. They managed to kill the feline only by smashing its head with another headstone. It was a messy business all in all.
Spike was sitting on the ground holding his hand to the throat. She bent down to look at it.
“Are you all right?”
“'M fine. It's jus' a scratch.”
She crouched closer and removed his hand. There was some blood on the skin but he was right. It really was just a scratch. Buffy smiled.
“Want me to kiss it better?”
A slow grin appeared on Spike's face. “Nah,” he drawled. “Jus' want to kiss.”
He put his hand behind her head and drew her on top of him, but winced and groaned the next second.
“You told me you were all right!”
“I am. The back's bit bruised that's all.”
When he turned them around so that he was on top, she noticed that he had still been lying on the smashed headstone.
“Let me see.”
She pushed him off and stood on her knees. He didn't stop her as she lifted his shirt and examined his lower back. If she didn't know better she'd say that he was basking in her attention. Gently, she caressed her fingers over the large purple blotch and covered it back up.
“You'll live.”
He smiled, rose to his knees and pulled her to him. The first touch of his lips was gentle, but when he pushed his tongue in, the kiss became demanding. His hands started to explore her body and Buffy whimpered.
The last bar they had intended to raid that night was the usual for them. It was an odd place – although it wasn't really a demon bar, non-human patrons were not too rare. Still, the pub was almost always one of the calmest places that Buffy and Spike ventured into. Mostly they just walked in and out, sometimes taking out a couple of vamps who were trying to feed on some unsuspecting victims.
This time everything was different. The first thing that Buffy noticed was Spike's posture straightening and his walk turning even more predator-like as his gaze danced over the room and its occupants. It took her two seconds to sense that the whole atmosphere was charged with tension and most people (and demons) were talking in hushed voices or staring glumly in front of them. Even the music sounded somehow subdued.
Spike slowly loitered to the bar and sat. Buffy went along but as her boyfriend engaged the barman she turned her back to them to observe the room.
“So, what's up? Slow evening, huh?” the vamp asked.
“You know... the usual,” the man answered without looking up. He wiped the counter in front of Spike although it wasn't at all dirty. “What can I get you two?”
“Beer and a coke.”
Spike had drunk only light alcohol through the evening. Buffy didn't dare to think that it was because she had asked him not to, but she wasn't the one to complain anyway. Spike took the glasses and moved towards the booth at the farthest wall.
“The guy at the bar seems nervous,” Spike said in a quiet voice.
“You think he knows what's going on?”
“Probably. I think that whatever it is it's in the back room.”
Buffy glanced at the small door next to the bar counter, then grinned at Spike and stood.
“What are we waiting for then?” she said in a bright voice, but before she could head anywhere, Spike grabbed her hand.
“Sit down, Slayer,” he said, his voice tense but level. “No need to rush. Do you see those four gits there? They are bodyguards.”
Buffy looked in the direction indicated.
“Who? Those ratty old men?” Her expression was one of disdain. “I could take them in my sleep and so could you!”
“True, but they are still Waldrusk demons, not old men, and while we deal with them, whoever's in the back, will have time to flee.”
He tugged at her arm and reluctantly she sat down again.
“What do you suggest?” she grumbled. Usually Spike was right about battle strategies and things like that; she just didn't want to admit it.
“We drink, and if after a while nothing happens, we leave.”
“What? You-”
Spike squeezed Buffy's arm that he was still holding and hissed, “You're drawing attention! Do you even know the meaning of being sneaky? We leave only to move in from the back with no Waldrusks in the way.”
”Fuck you, vampire,” she said under her breath. It wasn't meant to be a malicious remark. Buffy hated when he made her feel foolish. “I'm gonna get some fresh air. There's nothing to do here,” she said in a loud voice and left for the front exit.
Spike clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. He told himself that he would not get angry again. It didn't matter; she'd agreed to his plan, hadn't she? Spike finished his beer in two gulps and returned to the bar. He wasn't going to spoil the evening by going off at her again.
“Jack Daniels,” he said. “And make it double.”
To Be Continued