Buffy’s attempts to stop the screams bubbling up inside of her began to fail. She bit down on her tongue until her thick, coppery blood pooled in the back of her throat.
Still she refused to give him the satisfaction.
But as he carved mindless patterns across her previously unmarred flesh she could not back her whimpers of pain, nor the tears that rolled down her cheeks in quick succession.
She saw his eyes twinkling up at her, gauging how long she would last before either letting loose a piercing scream or succumbing to the unconsciousness that did not seem to want her.
Rolling her eyes to the back of her skull, she squeezed her weakening muscles tightly trying to ease the pain. She heard his dark chuckle and felt his cold skin press up against her.
*Not again, please no...*
Her silent prayers to whoever would listen went unanswered.
Angelus slipped into game face, letting his sharp claws extend, before tearing at the soft flesh of her already bruised thighs. Blood ran thickly down her legs, making her stomach roll in on itself.
Grasping the chains that held her wrists, Buffy began another fruitless struggle to break them so she could escape the horror that now surrounded her. Her arms protested as she pulled down on the thick, heavy chains. Letting a cry of anguish pass through her lips, she knew that she was still trapped just as completely as she had been hours before.
Suddenly Angelus was at her neck, inhaling the scent of her blood that ran close to the surface.
*This is It.* She thought, finally he was going to end her torment.
She felt his fangs and cock simultaneously imbed themselves into her, crying out in pain as he raped her body while stealing her blood.
Buffy could feel everything as he moved roughly above her, taking her with such brutality she could hardly remember the vampire he had been earlier that very same day.
*Angel*
She wanted to kick, punch and scream at the unfairness of it all. Everything she had dreamed tonight would be had rapidly become her worst nightmare.
As the vampire on top of her raked his sharp claws over her breasts, leaving angry, red welts, she finally released the agonised scream she had promised herself she would not let him hear.
~*~*~*~
Her dreamless sleep didn’t last long; Spike could see her lax fingers tighten around the sheet she used to cover herself. Her relaxed face became tense with fear and agony, scrunching up once again as she relived the horror of what Angelus had done to her.
He watched as her quiet whimpers increased in volume and her body twitched violently beneath its thin covering. His sudden urge to comfort her took him by surprise, he knew he wanted to protect her but couldn’t for the unlife in him figure out why.
Just a few hours before, when both Angel and the Slayer had been trapped by his minions, he had welcomed her death. As the Judge had approached her, ready to burn her to cinders, Spike had watched eagerly, confident in the fact that the girl who had rendered him to a wheelchair was about to meet her maker.
But now, while he still had the intense urge to sink his fangs into her jugular, he knew he wouldn't. After hearing all Angelus’ boasting Spike had felt a strange possessiveness for Buffy fall around him.
The Slayer was his, somewhere deep down he knew that. He felt it.
And although he still disliked her strongly with a passion, he accepted that she belonged to him. The very moment he realised this, Spike swore to himself that Angelus would never touch Buffy again; ever.
With this thought, he turned his attention back to the struggling Slayer who was still lost in her nightmare. Running a hand through his stiffly gelled platinum hair, unknowingly releasing the soft curls from their prison, he pondered over what he should do now.
She was in obvious need of medical attention, but where should he take her? To the hospital where he knew he would need a damn good explanation as to why he had such a brutally beaten girl on his lap? Or to the Watcher’s place? Where, again he would need to explain exactly what had happened before the man could drive a pointy, wooden stake through his heart.
On the one hand, he could tell her Watcher the truth: that it was Angel who, not only was now missing a soul, but had also tortured and abused his Slayer. Taking her to the hospital would require time to think up a plausible excuse as to why a wheelchair bound man had a severely injured teenager perched, unconscious, on his chair with him.
*No,* he decided, *looks like the Watcher is gettin’ a visit from William the Bloody.* Spike could only pray that the man would make the Slayer his first priority, giving him time to explain, before running to fetch a stake.
Gripping the wheels of his chair he pushed himself forward, coming to a halt no more than a foot away from Buffy’s shaking form. Now came the question of how to wake her without scaring the life out of her. He figured gentle was the way to go, to treat her as he would Drusilla when she had one of her more painful visions.
Reaching a hand out towards her, Spike faltered. Sucking in a quick breath he placed his hand over the one she had twisted in the fabric covering her. Smiling slightly as her trembles lessened, he gently squeezed her hand.
When that had no effect, he leaned closer, his voice tumbled low and smooth from his lips. "Time to wake up, luv."
Shooting upwards with a strangled gasp, Buffy awoke. Instantly she regretted the sudden movement that caused white-hot pain to fire throughout her body.
Then she felt her Slayer senses go haywire. A master vampire was near, yet somehow she knew she was in no immediate danger. Opening her swollen eyelids, she saw that he was sat closer than she had anticipated causing her to jump in surprise.
That was not her only source of surprise. He had not only stayed with her, for however long she had slept, but he hadn’t tried to kill her while she was vulnerable in sleep. Welcome yet strange warmth suffused her body, and she knew with certainty that he would not hurt her.
Exactly how she knew that remained a mystery, Buffy just put it down to the fact he had not attempted to hurt her while she was unconscious and weak.
"Spike?" Her voice gravelly from the screams Angelus’ torture methods had torn from her throat.
"The one an’ only," His reply held an affection that she had never heard before, and it puzzled her. "How you feelin’?"
Through the mass of bruises and slowly healing cuts that marred her face, Buffy cast him an incredulous glance.
*How does he think I’m feeling? Stupid, insensitive, undead jerk.* Buffy huffed silently but without any fire behind her silent words.
"Right." Feeling like an idiot, Spike looked away from her. "Oh, um, water." Pointing towards the glass of water he had thoughtfully placed on the bedside table, cringing at the politeness he hadn’t heard in his voice since becoming a vampire.
A flash of disbelief crossed Buffy’s face, before she shot him a small grateful smile that caused her to wince as pain shot through her cheeks. She reached a hand up, feeling the lumps, bruises and barely-there cuts that covered her face. Tears welled in her eyes; quickly she blinked them away and reached for—
Spike held the glass in his hand, passing it to her so she wouldn’t have to strain in reaching for it. Yet again she looked at him like he was from another planet, but took the glass. As their fingers brushed lightly she automatically flinched, a flash of hurt crossed Spike’s face before he looked at her with understanding.
"Thanks." Buffy muttered, confused by his behaviour. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took small, careful gulps as she had been taught to do by her mother whenever she had been sick as a little girl. Buffy savoured the cool water sliding down her aching throat, soothing the burning sensation.
When the glass was half empty she set it aside, only wincing slightly as her cuts and bruises stretched with her movements. She caught Spike watching her carefully, almost as if he was waiting for something.
"How...how long was I asleep?" A sudden fear gripped her. How long had she slept? Would Angelus come back for seconds? She knew he would, but the question was when? Buffy fought to keep her voice from shaking; she wouldn’t let Spike see how terrified she really felt.
"Not long, ‘bout half an hour is all." She couldn’t hide the crippling fear that bled into her eyes. Would that be long enough for Angelus to realise Spike was gone? And even if he didn’t, was it long enough for him to bore of whatever he was doing and come back?
"I should go" But her body wouldn’t cooperate. As Buffy tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, pain ripped through her petite frame causing her to cry out in pain.
Spike’s hands immediately came up as if to hold her in place. "Don’t move, you silly bint. D’you want split all them healin’ cuts open?" Sighing wearily, he dropped his hands. "Just hold your horses, alright Slayer?"
He then wheeled around to Angel’s drawers, throwing them open and grabbing the first things he could find: a white wife-beater and simple black sweats "Here, put these on."
He threw the clothes on the end of the bed, and then purposefully kept his back turned while she changed.
When he heard no movement behind him he chanced a look. Buffy was sat exactly where she had been a few minutes ago, but now her face was crumpled in silent sobs.
"I—I—" She drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. "I can’t w-wear them."
Puzzled, Spike began to demand "Why the hell n—" He realised. "Oh."
Of course she wouldn’t want to wear her rapist’s clothes, Spike cursed his insensitivity. But as he looked back at her, he realised she couldn’t go to the Watcher’s wrapped in a blood-saturated sheet or naked. He would have laughed at the visual that thought gave him if the situation wasn’t so serious. They needed to leave as soon as possible, who knew when The Great Poof would tire of Dru and come back for round two? But knowing them two, Spike thought it wasn't likely that Angelus would return anytime soon.
He still wasn’t sure exactly how to transport the injured girl from here to the Watcher’s flat. He had thought of placing her in his lap and simply wheeling there, but in that scenario she had still been unconscious. He doubted she would willing sit on his unmoveable legs and let him wheel her across town.
He looked down at his legs, cursing them yet again. As he did, he noticed his black, leather duster.
Spike grimaced. *Bloody hell*
Leaning forward slightly, he began to pull his arms from his precious coat. He carefully used one arm to push himself up quickly, and then whipped the duster out from underneath him. Slumping back with a sigh, he eyed the Slayer and then the material that he often thought of as his second skin.
"Here, pet." Still reluctant to let anyone else wear his duster, only Dru had ever been given the courtesy of wearing it. "Put this on."
To say she looked shocked would be an understatement. This was a big deal, she knew. Buffy had the feeling that his duster had a story behind it, something that placed it above his other possessions.
"...Why?"
"It’s either this or you’re goin’ to your Watcher’s place naked. Take your bloody pick." He said the words with no anger or impatience, and for that Buffy was grateful. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep her tears at bay, and his anger would surely push her over the edge.
Then she realised the implications of his words. "You’re...taking me to Giles’?" She reached out for the duster in Spike’s hands; if they were going to Giles’ flat then she would prefer to be clothed.
He passed her the coat quickly and turned as she put it on, when she finished buttoning up the front he heard her whispered "Thanks." Spinning around swiftly, he took in the sight of her sitting there in his duster. Even with the many cuts and bruises marring her face and now-covered body she looked beautiful.
The sight of her wrapped up in his black leather made any borrowed blood in his system rush southwards.
Which, in itself, shocked him; he hadn’t felt any movement down there since the girl in front of him dropped an organ on him. He could have laughed at the irony. He was having his first hard-on since the incident, and the cause of it was the girl who had rendered his lower-half numb and unresponsive.
Shaking his head slightly, he cleared his head of thoughts of the Slayer laid across a king size, four poster bed wearing nothing but his unbuttoned black, leather duster, her skin perfectly clear of tonight’s brutality and glowing with the healthy tan she always seemed to have.
Now the hard-on he sported had swelled in epic proportions he knew that carrying her on his lap was a bad idea. He didn’t want to scare the girl after all.
"Might be better if you gave him a ring... Doubt he'd be pleased to see me carryin’ you to his place with you in this state."
"Oh." Buffy looked confused for a moment before speaking again. "Yeah, that makes sense. Can you pass me the phone?" She pointed to the chunky, portable phone on a small table near an armchair.
After Spike passed the phone to her, Buffy stared at the numbers. What would she tell Giles? Should she tell him everything? Or mostly everything, only with the most private parts omitted?
"What is it, luv?" His soft, baritone voice broke through her light haze.
"What am I gonna say to him?" She felt the tears well up in her eyes and start to overflow down her cheeks, she quickly dashed them away. Embarrassed by weakness she was displaying and the childlike quality of her voice.
"Tell him as little or as much as you want. He doesn’t have to know everythin' that happened tonight." Again his voice was soft and warm, and had Buffy been feeling something like normal, she may have called him on his un-Spike-like behaviour. But right now she couldn’t help but be drawn in by the rich sound of his voice.
"You don’t think he has a right to know?" Again the child’s tone colouring her voice irritated her.
"I think he needs to know ‘bout Angelus..." He waited calmly until the grimace on her face left at the mention of the soulless demon’s name. "But anythin’ else is your business." He looked away from her tear misted eyes. "S’way I see it, anyway."
"Yeah, you’re right." Then as she began to punch Giles’ number into the phone, Spike caught another whispered "Thanks." He looked back at her and smiled, letting her know he had heard her barely audible gratitude.
He listened as the Watcher picked up. "Hello?" His tone was slightly panicked, as if waiting for her call. But then again he would have been, the last thing the man knew was that Buffy had gone to the factory. For all he knew she could have died, which she almost had, both at the factory and after her narrow escape.
"Hey Giles, it’s me." She forced her voice to sound happy and carefree, but wasn't sure how well she had pulled it off.
"Buffy? Where are you? Are you okay? What happened at the factory? Has the Ju—"
"Giles! Chill!" Buffy’s voice now had a genuine touch of laughter to it. "I need you to come get me, okay? I know it’s late, I’m sorry. But I didn’t know who else to call." Just as suddenly as the happiness had appeared it was gone, replaced by tearful pleading.
"Buffy, what’s happened? Of course I’ll come and get you. Where are you? Are you inj—"
Again Buffy cut him off. "Giles!" Her quiet shout stopped his endless questioning. "I’m at...Angel’s." She forced the name past her lips, grimacing as though it had left a bad taste in her mouth. She then shot a worried look at Spike, and pointed at the door. When he looked between her and the door and then back again with a puzzled frown, she rolled her eyes.
"Giles, if you see anyone outside...Angel’s when you pull up I want you to leave, okay? Even if it’s...A-Angel, okay?" She stressed the ‘okay’, making sure he understood how serious she was.
"Buffy, what’s going on? Why on earth would I drive away if I saw Angel?" Buffy was at a loss for what to say. How could she explain that Angel wasn’t Angel anymore over the phone? Especially when ‘Angel’ could return at any moment.
"Please, Giles. Just...please?" Her quiet pleading obviously got through to the man on the other end of the phone.
"I’ll be right there." Then he was gone, the dial tone buzzing quietly.
"He’s..." Buffy cleared her throat gently. "Giles is coming."
"If you’re worried ‘bout Angelus showin’ up, don’t bother." A slight bitterness crept into his tone. "He’s bein’ ‘entertained’ by Dru." He spat the word ‘entertained’ out angrily.
"Enterta—" Her small, delicate features crumbled up in silent agony again. "Oh..." She whispered almost silently.
Spike felt like the biggest wanker on the planet.
He wheeled his chair closer to her, unsure of how to comfort her and how much comfort she would accept from him, if any.
Gently he reached out his hand, watching her face all the while, and placed it over her hand that was resting on the bed. She did flinch lightly, but he had expected as much, yet she didn’t pull away. He carefully ran his thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing motion.
"I’m sorry." The words shocked him. He hadn’t seen that coming. Why would she feel sorry? He was the one that had hurt her by opening his unthinking mouth and shoving his foot in it.
"What?"
"I’m sorry." Her words stronger this time, "I’m sorry that this has to hurt you as well, I never thought..." She trailed off.
"Hey, listen to me." He squeezed her hand just a fraction tighter. "You have nothin’ to apologize for, kitten. It’s that bloody git that’s in the wrong."
He thought back to his initial reaction, he had come here to hurt her for something he saw as her fault. But now, seeing her after Angelus had finished his sadistic, little games, he couldn’t feel any of his previous anger. Sure he was still pissed as hell at her about the chair, but she had also helped tonight by proving that he was slowly healing.
Buffy looked deeply into his eyes, realising that if he had felt differently she wouldn’t have had the chance to apologize. The only things she saw in his azure gaze were understanding, pain and...affection? She wasn’t sure about the last one, but there was definitely warmth in his eyes she had never seen there before.
"Thank you." Her heartfelt words caused a foreign flush of heat to flame within him, and he thanked whoever was listening that he couldn’t blush.
"No problem, Slayer." His voice was once again rough, as though he were trying to mantain his Big-Bad image. She smiled at him as he averted his eyes, but almost whimpered at the loss of his hand on hers as he leaned back in his chair. "Now, we’d best be off."
He wasn’t sure how they were going to work this, fortunately his hard-on from earlier had abated slightly, so it wouldn’t be as obvious. But he wasn’t sure how long that would last if she crawled onto his lap, the scent of her blood still strong, her warm body nestled against his.
"So, how we gunna work this?"
"Erm...I could try walking?" She made it sound like a question, but started trying to get to her feet anyway. Woozily she stood, before she started to fall backwards towards the bed.
The next thing she knew, she was secure in Spike’s arms, sitting across his lap, and his face mere centimetres from hers. Fighting the rising panic the closeness caused, she waited to see what he would do.
Spike cradled her softly in his arms, trying not to cause her more pain. Then he noticed how close their faces were, and the panic flooding her eyes. He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and moved her down to rest more firmly on his thighs, which seemed to calm her as the distance between their faces increased.
"Heh, thanks...again." She said light-heartedly, he had after all just saved her from the probable unconsciousness that would have followed her fall.
Nodding once he turned to the door, as he began to wheel the chair forward he felt Buffy beginning to slip of his lap, she quickly threw her arms around his neck, casting him a shy smile before averting her eyes.
She unclasped her hands from the back of his neck as they reached the door, using one of them to twist the door handle then fling the door open. She then returned her hand to its previous position and held on.
Spike, quicker now, wheeled them down the narrow hallway and out into the dark, cool night. He sniffed the air. Dawn was fast approaching and he knew he didn’t have time to reach the factory before it broke over the horizon.
"Where’s your Watcher, sweets?"
She peered out from where she hoped she had, inconspicuously, placed her head; in the nook between his neck and shoulder. She spotted Giles' old, banger of a car straight away.
"Just over there. I can walk from here...I think." Her voice was hesitant.
"I’ll stay here ‘til you get in, yeh? I’ll be able to catch you again if you feel like takin’ a tumble." He chuckled lightly.
"Okay." Her voice was small and quiet. She looked up into his eyes, then leaned in unexpectedly and kissed his cheek quickly. Pulling away just as quick, she kept her gaze on her legs. "Thank you, Spike. I... Thank you." Her words caused a strange clogging feeling to claim Spike’s throat, so instead of speaking he nodded his head sharply.
Gently he lifted her body away from his, placing her feet first on the floor, she rose the rest of the way herself, somewhat unsteadily.
Wincing she took her first step towards the Citroen that was waiting for her, she knew Giles still couldn’t see her so she allowed a grimace of pain to flash on her face. Limping her way forward she knew when she became visible, as the door of Giles’ car swung open and with a gasp her Watcher raced towards her.
"Buffy? My God, what’s happened?" His tone was anxious, and Buffy wondered how bad she must look.
"Can we just—" She gasped in pain. "Can we just get to the car please, Giles."
"Of course." He helped her gently to his car, wincing every time she gasped and flinched in pain. Carefully she lowered herself, with Giles’ help into the car; he carefully fastened the seatbelt around her.
After gently securing his Slayer, Giles walked with a quickened pace to his side of the car. Getting in and gunning the reluctant engine to life, he looked over at the battered and bruised girl in his passenger seat. He swore to himself that whoever had done this would pay dearly. He pulled away from the parking spot and drove towards his apartment.
Buffy stared out of the window, pressing her hand against the cool glass. She smiled when she saw a flash of platinum blonde fly by the fast moving car.
Spike smiled at her as she looked out the window for him, her hand pressed tightly against the glass. He watched until the banged up, old Citroen rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. He sat there for a while, contemplating the new developments and what they would mean for not only him but for the Slayer and Angelus too.
Personally he couldn’t wait to find out.
TBC
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Author's Chapter Notes:
All thoughts are surrounded by *stars*
I have had this chapter read through by a friend, but if she has missed anything please feel free to let me know =)
Thank you for your reviews last chapter, I hope you enjoy this update =)
Thank you to Vette for creating the banner for this fic =D
I have had this chapter read through by a friend, but if she has missed anything please feel free to let me know =)
Thank you for your reviews last chapter, I hope you enjoy this update =)
Thank you to Vette for creating the banner for this fic =D
Chapter End Notes:
Hope you enjoyed this update. Please review, it makes my day =)