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CHAPTER 3

Upon reaching Buffy’s house, Giles excused himself to go and make a phone call about Ben. He felt it only right that the man should at least have a proper burial and so he‘d decided to make a call to the authorities. Anonymously, of course.

Tara headed to the kitchen to make them all a hot drink while Willow and Spike went into the lounge. "Right, you just sit there while I go and get some supplies and stuff," the redhead instructed as she pointed the vampire towards the couch. "I‘ll only be a minute."

"You really don’t need to do this, you know, Red," Spike sighed as he turned to face her but found himself talking to an empty hall. "Not that my opinion matters of course," he muttered grumpily as he made his way over to the couch.

Taking off his duster, he held it up and scowled at the hole in the back. "Another war wound, eh, old girl? Sorry about that. You‘ll have more scars than me if this keeps up." He gently folded the coat and placed it on the arm of the settee, running his hand lovingly over the cool leather. "Still, nothing more than I deserve though, eh?" he continued, his hand fisting into the soft fabric. "Should’ve been quicker, should’ve knocked the knife out of Doc’s hand," he admonished himself, angrily balling his coat between his hands. "Anything! Then the Niblet wouldn’t have got HURT, you pathetic twat!" With a loud growl, he turned and furiously threw his duster across the room, knocking a lamp over in the process.

Grimacing at the pain the savage movement had caused the wound in his back, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes waiting for the throbbing to ease. Body finally relaxing, he opened his eyes again and surveyed the damage he’d done.

"Sod it," he groaned as he eyed the mess on the floor. With a sudden self-derisive snort of laughter, he shook his head then walked over to the broken light and began picking up the pieces, fervently wishing that it would be as easy to do so with his own unlife. By the time he’d finished, he’d cursed himself to all kinds of Hell and back and had thoroughly convinced himself that he’d failed in keeping his promise to Buffy. He hadn’t kept Dawn safe and she was at the hospital this very minute having the result of his failure tended to.

"Everything OK?" Giles asked, popping his head around the corner, the noise having disturbed his phone conversation.

"Peachy," the vampire muttered sarcastically.

The Watcher’s eyes narrowed when he saw Spike holding what was left of the light. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much, Rupert," Spike answered blithely, dumping the remains of the lamp into the waste basket with a loud clatter. "Just the stupid vamp ballocksing things up…again!"

"Oh…well…very good," the man replied, his attention being drawn back to the phone which was emitting frustrated sounds. "Carry on."

"Carry on?!" Spike repeated in disbelief as he watched Giles walk away. "Right, I’ll just wreck the place then, shall I?" he added loudly, then shook his head as he looked around the room coming to a decision. He had to get out of there. Now.

Not only was it obvious that no-one really gave a damn whether he was there or not, he just couldn’t be here when they brought Dawn back. He couldn’t face her. Couldn’t face them. Any of them. Didn’t want to have to sit through the long dissection of what had happened with Glory. What could’ve been done different. What could’ve been done better. Because he knew then that he’d eventually see the accusatory glares directed at him and hear the damning words that would confirm how truly worthless he was; and tonight, more than any other, he really couldn’t bear it.

Picking up his coat, he gave it a shake and put it back on. Ignoring the soreness of his leg and stabbing pain in his back, he strode towards the door and grabbed a hold of the handle. He was going back to his crypt, get stinking drunk, then sleep for a week and no-one was going to stop him.

"Hold it right there, Mister! Just where do think you’re sneaking off to?" came Willow’s best authoritative voice.

Hand still resting on the doorknob, Spike jumped slightly and turned to see two stern looking witches staring back at him, their hands full of ointments and bandages.

"I am not sneaking," he retorted defensively.

"Are so sneaking," the witch insisted. "Your whole posture was one of pure and…and positive…sneak. Well, apart from the fact that I’d expect you to probably be a little more…you know…kinda…hunched over…"

"Oh, and on tip toes," Tara added helpfully.

"Yeah, right," Willow agreed, sharing a smile with her girlfriend before glancing back at the vampire and adding teasingly, "Not to mention looking over your shoulder every now and then with an evil grin."

Spike threw his hands up in disgust and took a couple of steps towards them. "What am I, Dick bloody Dastardly for God’s sake? Big Bad here, remember? I do not creep around like some ridiculous cartoon villain, all hat and moustache," he replied with a frown.

"I think a moustache might suit you," said Tara, tilting her head to one side and narrowing her eyes as if imagining how he might look.

"I think a goatee would be better," Willow offered, tilting her head the same way as Tara’s and adopting the same expression.

Spike let out an angry growl, called them stupid bints and spun around, heading towards the door.

"Wait, Spike, you can’t go yet, we haven’t cleaned up your injuries," Willow called out as she hurried after him.

"Don’t bother," he flung over his shoulder irately, as he opened the door and stalked out into the night. He couldn’t handle one more second of their mocking. First Buffy and now them. Out of all the Scoobies, the witches were the ones he actually quite liked and he couldn’t help but be a little hurt at their behaviour. When it came down to it though, he wasn’t really surprised. He deserved to be ridiculed.

Just as he reached the sidewalk, a firm hand gripped his arm and he turned to see Willow standing there with her resolve face firmly in place. Spike was about to tear his arm away when her features softened and she said quietly, "I’m sorry, Spike. Really. We were only having some fun." At his scowl, she added by way of explanation, "You know, post-almost-apocalypse-near-death, kind of teasing. Nothing meant by it."

She gave him a tentative smile and after a few seconds, he sighed. "Apology accepted, Red. Can I go now?"

"Nope, injury fixage first," she replied, trying to pull him back towards the house. When it looked as though he was going to object again, she played her ace. "Buffy really does want you feeling better. You wouldn‘t want to upset her what with having to worry about Dawnie and all, would you?" she asked plaintively, pinning him with an innocent look.

The vampire shook his head in resignation. "That’s a low blow, Witch," he commented in half-hearted annoyance, as he took a step back towards the house. He’d go get this done and then leave.

Willow smiled triumphantly but didn’t let go of his arm until he was sitting between the two Wicca’s on the Summers’ couch.

"Take off your shirt and coat," Willow ordered as she began arranging the various first aid supplies on the coffee table.

Unable to resist, Spike raised his eyebrows, turned to Tara and smirked. "Is that the same chat up line she used on you?" he asked the Wicca interestedly.

Tara reddened slightly and laughed. "No, but it would’ve worked just as well."

"Tara!" Willow exclaimed, her look of shock rapidly changing to a smile as she added, "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," her lover practically purred in response.

"Would’ve saved a whole lot of time if I had known that earlier," the redhead declared with feeling. The two women shared a grin then looked at the vampire expectantly.

With a sigh, Spike stood and slipped out of his duster then pulled his T-shirt over his head, holding back a grimace as the knife wound protested painfully at the movement.

Carefully sitting down again, he held himself still as the two women began their administrations. Tara patched up the cut on his face while Willow tended to his back. When they were finished they asked about his leg but upon hearing that Spike and underwear didn’t mix, they all agreed that he’d be better off just resting it for a few days.

The witches cleared everything away then Tara went back into the kitchen to fetch their drinks. Willow stayed with Spike to help him put his T-shirt on so that he didn‘t disturb the dressing on his back too much.

"I’m not two, you know," he growled when she chirpily ordered him to put his arm up then proceeded to slide the material over his left hand and down. Unfazed, Willow ordered his arm down and repeated her command for his right. His moaning at the humiliation of it all was mostly muffled by Willow pulling the fabric down over his head, none too gently.

"OW! Watch it, Red. Almost had a fellow’s ears off," he complained, rubbing at his left lobe.

"Oops, sorry," she giggled, looking anything but.

At that moment, Tara came back with the drinks and Giles entered the room bearing news. "I’ve just spoken to Buffy and she says that Xander is bringing her and Dawn home now. Unfortunately, Anya has to stay in for observation overnight."

"Is Dawnie, OK?" asked Tara in concern.

"From what Buffy told me, Dawn’s had to have sutures but other than that she’s fine," the Watcher explained with a smile. "I’m sure after some rest she’ll be right as rain."

"Oh, well that’s great," said Willow with a relieved sigh. "I mean, not so much for Anya, because…hospitals…yuck…but definite good for Dawn. Right?"

The last was directed at Spike who had stopped listening to the conversation going on around him upon hearing that Buffy and Dawn were on their way back. He stared back at the redhead vacantly for a moment and then nodded his head. "Uh, yeah".

The urge to get out, and get out fast, came back to him in full force. When Tara held out a mug of hot chocolate to him, Spike all but snatched it out of her hand and drained it in one long gulp. Slamming the empty mug down on the coffee table, he stood abruptly and then froze as the front door opened and Buffy and Dawn entered the house.

Too bloody late.

"We’re back," Buffy called as the duo went into the living room where Willow, Tara and Giles immediately greeted all of them enthusiastically. Unlike, Spike, Buffy noted, who seemed to be frozen in place by the couch.

The vampire watched Dawn accept the gentle hugs and well wishes from her friends and felt a little of his tension ease. Apart from her obvious tiredness and the fact she was in some discomfort from her wound, she seemed her normal self. At least his foolishness hadn’t caused any permanent damage and for that he was thankful.

He glanced at Buffy and saw she had her back to him and was talking to Giles, explaining that Xander had dropped them off and gone straight back to the hospital. Deciding that it was a good time to make a quiet exit before the recriminations started, he moved stealthily towards the front door. Opening it silently, he paused on the threshold and allowed himself one last look back at the small group of friends and the woman he loved. "See you around, Slayer," he whispered, then quickly left the house and walked off, losing himself in the dark shadows of the night.

END CHAPTER 3





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