CHAPTER 13
“Hello Buffy.”
Buffy tried to close the door but Riley blocked it with his foot quickly. He walked inside and closed the door behind him. The young woman took two steps backward, trying to conceal her fear.
“Go away, Riley, or I’ll call the police.”
He laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“Spike will be back in a few minutes,” she lied.
“No he won’t. I made sure he was on his way to L.A. He won’t be back for at least a few hours. And what I’m here for will only take a couple of minutes,” he added with a satisfied smirk.
Buffy looked at him incredulously. “You were the one who called this morning?”
How come she hadn’t recognized him? She had been so lost in her daydream that she hadn’t really paid attention to the caller’s voice. “But Spike called Diego back. How could you be sure he wouldn’t answer then?”
Riley shrugged. “I couldn’t. It was pure luck. I just waited for Atherton to leave the house…and you, here, all alone. Tsk tsk. Such carelessness.”
She tried to run to the back door but he caught her easily, grasping her hair. She cried in pain and he put his hand over her mouth.
“Do you really think that sending the cops and your lover would scare me?”
She shook her head and struggled fruitlessly. His hand was covering half of her nose and she had trouble breathing.
He threw her violently on the floor, and her head hit the first step of the stairs. Then he kicked her twice in the stomach, and she coiled herself into a foetal position, covering her head with her arms in a vain attempt at protection.
She tried to scream but only a faint squeal came out of her mouth.
Her thoughts were going to Tara Maclay, and how she was about to know the same fate. And Spike wouldn’t be here, and he would be horrified when he realized that they had been tricked. He hadn’t wanted to leave Buffy alone and he had been right.
I’m sorry Spike. I’m sorry. I love you.
But it would be too late.
Riley put on a pair of gloves, then grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the kitchen. Opening some drawers, he found what he was looking for : a very sharp little kitchen knife.
“See, I was thinking on making it look like a painful accident, pushing you down the stairs for instance. Then again that’s what happened to Tara, so it would be too risky for me. So I had this brilliant idea,” he said, in a cheerfully creepy tone, showing her the knife. “Suicide. That’s the key. Isn’t it clever?”
She didn’t answer and he shook her violently. She winced at a sudden pain in her shoulder.
“I’m talking to you, bitch!”
She raised her head and stared at him with pure hatred. “Go to hell, Riley. When Spike will finds out, he’ll kill you,” she told him in a raspy, barely audible voice. He heard her though, and she saw him falter for a mere second, before slashing her cheek cruelly. A flood of blood escaped, running down her face and into her mouth, making her choke. That seemed to please him to no end.
“I wasted enough time with you already. Time to finish this.”
Holding her wrist, Riley made a clean cut, and blood spattered on her body and on his arm. He noticed that she had passed out, and with a vile smile, took her other arm.
An inhuman roar resonated behind him, before two hands caught him by the shoulders, sending him across the room and against the wall. The contact was brutal and knocked Riley out immediately.
Spike rushed to Buffy, terror filling him. There was blood everywhere.
“Buffy…Oh God. No…”
He took a dishtowel and pressed it to her slashed wrist, but it was soon soaked with blood.
Desperate, he ran to the living room, picked up the phone and called for an ambulance and the police. The white phone was soon tinted with bloodstains coming from his hand.
Her blood.
He came back to her, placing pressure on the towel against her wrist again. He pressed his ear to her face and felt her breath. But her pulse was slowing down awfully fast.
“Stay with me, Buffy, please. Please, Baby…”
He pressed his lips on her forehead, whispering fervent prayers against her skin.
The ambulance and the police arrived at the same time.
§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§
Helpless, Spike watched the doctors and nurses take Buffy away to the operating room.
He was feeling numb. Only a few hours ago, they were making love tenderly, she was talking, laughing, teasing him.
And now she was covered with her own blood, struggling to stay alive.
If only he had tried harder to reach Diego *before* leaving the house…if he hadn’t come back because of his cell phone, Buffy would be dead by now. He clutched his chest, trying to repress the sobs. It was not the moment to break down. And he wouldn’t have a reason to break down anyway.
Because she would not die. She would be ok. She had to.
What would become of him if she…Oh God, what was he going to tell Rupert? He was supposed to take care of her!
“Sir? Are you alright?”
He raised his head and met the concerned look of a nurse.
“Are you hurt?” she asked again, and he realized he had blood on his hand and shirt, and probably on his face too.
“It…It’s not my blood,” he managed to say. “It’s my girlfriend’s,” Spike added, realizing it was the first time he was talking about Buffy publicly that way. Not his stepsister. His girlfriend.
His girl.
He also noticed that he was attracting stares from other people around, either by the fact that he had so much blood on him, or that they had recognized him.
“Can I go…Is there a bathroom somewhere?”
Smiling gently, the nurse led him to the nearest men’s room.
“Do you need anything, sir? A glass of water?” she asked again.
“No…thank you.”
He didn’t want a glass of water. He just wanted Buffy to be ok. He wanted to wake up in his bed and discover that it was just an awful nightmare. He would wake up Buffy, kiss her and hold her tightly to him for the rest of the night, and the rest of his life.
But even his worst nightmares couldn’t have prepared him for this.
He quickly washed his face and hands. Some of the blood had tainted his bleached locks, and it didn’t want to wash away. The dried blood was creating a shocking contrast on his white head.
He came back to the hallway and prepared himself for an excruciating wait. He sat on a chair, putting his head in his hands.
§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§
A hand on his shoulder shook him from his torpor. He got up suddenly. The doctor was standing in front of him.
“I’m Dr Carter. You were the person who brought the young woman with the slashed wrist?”
“Yes. She’s my…my stepsister,” he said, thinking that in this case the family bond would be more useful. “Buffy. Is she ok? Tell me she’s ok.”
“She should be. She has several broken ribs, and she’s suffering from a slight concussion. Her right shoulder was also dislocated. The cut on her cheek will leave a scar, though. She lost a lot of blood, but you brought her in time.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s still in the recovery room. We’ll take her to a private room in about fifteen minutes. The nurse will let you know.”
“But she’ll be ok?” Spike insisted.
The doctor hesitated. “Her life’s not in danger anymore. But she suffered a severe beating and a crucial loss of blood. We can just wait now for her to wake up. The sooner the better.” He put his hand on Spike’s shoulder. “She’s under the best care. Don’t worry.”
Spike nodded, not sure he was totally reassured with this. “Alright. Thank you doctor.”
The doctor smiled before leaving. The nurse – her nametag indicated ‘Abby’ – came to him. “I’m sorry sir, but I need you to fill out some papers. Can you come with me?”
Spike followed her. Might as well do that now, he thought. Keep his mind busy, while waiting for Buffy to be brought back to her room.
After filling the usual administrative papers, he left a message on Willow and Xander’s phone. They weren’t home yet, but they would want to know what had happened.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he was able to see Buffy.
She looked almost as white as the sheets. A bandage covered her damaged cheek, as well as her wrist. And there were way too many tubes going in and out of her for Spike’s taste.
He grabbed a chair and sat next to the bed. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Hey baby. The doctor said you’d be fine. You just have to wake up soon. I’m right here next to you, ok?”
A small delusional part of him had hoped she would wake up when she heard his voice. But it didn’t happen, of course. He put a trembling hand on her forehead.
“I love you,” he whispered.
§§§§§§§§§§§§§§§
Another hour passed, and Xander and Willow arrived. Spike jumped slightly when they entered the room. He had dozed off with his head on the bed next to Buffy.
His friends hugged him tightly, before turning to Buffy’s unconscious body, horrified.
“What happened?”
“Riley…Riley tricked me into leaving the house and attacked her. I had forgotten my cell phone and I came back just in time before he killed her.”
Xander shook his head. “Riley did this? But how…?”
Spike explained to them what had happened since their wedding. Willow took Buffy’s hand. “I knew I should have forced her to call that number immediately.”
Xander put a comforting arm on her shoulders. “Honey, I’m afraid it wouldn’t have changed anything. Riley is crazy, he wanted to get his revenge and he would have fond one way or another.”
“Xander’s right. The guy is sick. And we…I totally underestimated him.” Spike’s jaw clenched. “The police took care of him, and I hope the bastard will rot in jail.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll have to go to the police tomorrow. See what we have to do…I want him to get what he deserves.”
So far Spike had been in a numb state of mind, but now the events were starting to process, and anger was making its way. Riley was in the hand of the police, but he would have given a lot to spend a few minutes with him and rip his guts bit by bit.
He forced himself to calm down. “The doctor said we have to wait for her to wake up…that it could take some time,” he said, caressing Buffy’s hair.
Watching him, Willow guessed that more had happened between them during her honeymoon. The way he was looking at her, the pure anguish on his face, all his gestures were the concern of a lover more than just a stepbrother. Even a close one.
But of course it wasn’t the place or the moment to raise the subject. Willow just hoped that if her best friends had found happiness together, it wouldn’t be taken from them so brutally.
“Did you call her dad?” Xander asked.
Spike shook his head. “No. They arrive tomorrow morning. They will know soon enough. If I tell them now they will have an awful trip back.”
“You’re right,” Willow said, squeezing his hand gently.
“If you want we can wait for them at your house tomorrow morning, and drive them here,” Xander offered.
“That would be great. This way I don’t have to leave Buffy. But don’t you have to get back to work?”
“Not before Wednesday. We’re at your disposal tomorrow if you need anything.”
“Thanks mate,” Spike said, giving Xander a strong hug. It was good to have his friends back and to share a little of his grief.
“Do you want something to eat, or drink?” Willow asked again. “Have you eaten anything since this morning?”
Spike shook his head. He had heard his stomach growl several times, but at the same time the idea of food made him queasy. He had just drunk some water earlier from the bathroom.
“No, thanks Red. Maybe later.” He sat back on the chair. “You two should go. You probably have to unpack and everything. And jetlag can be a bitch.”
“We came as soon as we heard your message,” Xander admitted. “But we can stay if you need us. And you can come sleep at our place tonight.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
Willow frowned, concerned. “Spike, you’ll have to sleep a little bit at least.”
“Ill sleep here. I’m not leaving her,” he said stubbornly.
“Ok then. Call us as soon as she wakes up, ok? Even if it’s the middle of the night.”
“I will, I promise. Thanks for coming, guys.”
After giving kisses to Buffy, Willow and Xander left. Spike took her hand again, placing it against his cheek. “Hey there, sleepy head. You need to wake up. I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours. Please, baby…”
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