[Reviews - 36]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 4900 times

- Text Size +




Spike awoke to the smell of coffee percolating and glanced at the small windows in one corner of the basement. The sun was just rising, casting shades of orange and gold, and he was tempted to peek out, then thought better of it. No use longing for a glimpse of something he would never get to fully enjoy again. Damn the Slayer for taking the Gem of Amara, he thought as he grabbed his bag, a tattered duffel with small holes all over it, and dug through for a fresh shirt and jeans. He frowned when he realized that he had nothing left in the bag, and glanced at the washer and dryer in one corner of the room.



With a sigh, he gathered the few articles of clothing he owned and tossed them into the washer, setting the temperature on hot so it would get all the grime out. His favorite black jeans were newly torn at the knees and his button down shirt was now buttonless, thanks to the last run in with those vampires who were hellbent on making him a minion. He had stolen one pair of pants from Xander and one from Giles, but he had tossed the Xander's when he realized that they were ’homeboy’ style, with a crotch that hung halfway to his ankles. And the ones that he had taken from Giles were the ones he had worn yesterday.



He heard Joyce walking around in the kitchen and glanced down at his attire. The beach scene boxers that Buffy had made fun of made his legs look even whiter, and the light blue T-shirt was extremely baggy over his thin body. It would probably be rude to walk around Joyce this way, but he shrugged and walked up the stairs, figuring he was bad and rude and he may as well make that clear from the start.



Joyce was standing in her robe, stirring a cup of coffee and staring at the back door, almost as if she was contemplating walking out of it and not coming back. She heard Spike step in behind her and quickly dried the tears on her face before she turned to face him. “Good morning, Spike. I hope I didn’t wake you.”



Spike studied her intently, taking in the bags under her eyes and the tear tracks on her cheeks and shook his head. “You did, but that’s good. If she’s going to start staying upstairs, I need to get up when you do so I can hear her better.”



“I could buy one of those monitor things.” Joyce grabbed another mug from the cabinet and handed it to him. “Should I do that?”



“I don’t think so.” Spike shook his head and glanced at the box of hot chocolate on the counter. Deciding to forego blood for the morning, he filled his cup with water and stuck it in the microwave. “I think you should keep everything as normal as possible. If you start making a fuss then she’ll fuss back. Don’t give her a reason.”



“She woke up last night and called me to come to her room. She didn’t even mention the argument we’d had. She only wanted me to help her into the bathroom.”



“I noticed that there are no rails in that bathroom.” Spike took his cup from the microwave and dumped a packet of cocoa in it.



“Oh, I have them, but Giles has been too busy working to install them. And to be honest, I didn’t expect her to go back upstairs.”



“I’ll get them put up today.” Spike took a sip of his drink and watched her closely. “She probably didn’t mean everything she said to you last night.”



Joyce nodded and put her cup in the sink. “She did mean it. And she was mostly right.”



Spike raised his eyebrow. “You want to put her away? You view her as a burden?"



“Not about that. She was right about the fact that I should have figured out a long time ago what was happening in her life. I haven’t been a good mother.”



“Not every mother has a Slayer for a kid. There really wasn’t a parenting handbook for that.”



Joyce blushed and chuckled a little. “You found my box of parenting books in the basement.”



“Yes, and no offense, but you really should get better reading material around here.” Spike finished his cocoa and put his empty mug beside Joyce’s in the sink. “Look, you have to deal with her injury the same way you dealt with her being a Slayer.”



“Get drunk and kick her out?”



“You did that?” Spike stared at her in shock when she nodded. “You kicked her out after her friends had been injured, her psycho-lover had taken her watcher hostage and she was being hunted by the cops?”



“I told you, I’m a bad mother.”



For once, Spike was speechless. He crossed his arms and watched as Joyce left the room to get ready for work. He had been with Buffy when she told her mother about being a Slayer. Of course, he had laughed at the time. Laughed at the woman’s reaction, enjoyed Buffy’s discomfort and took pleasure in the fact that the Slayer’s entire world had fallen apart because of one night with Angel.



But he wasn’t laughing now.







Buffy shifted uncomfortably against her sagging pillows and rolled her upper body, snuggling deeper into the bed. Her mother’s alarm clock had jarred her from slumber a half hour before and she had been unable to doze again. Not that she wanted to fall back into her dreams at all. For what felt like the entire night, she'd dreamed about the vampires that had injured her. She dreamed about being surrounded, fighting for her life, trying to run away, and then being slammed against one of the headstones.



In some of the dreams she cried and screamed, trying to tell herself that she could outrun it, outrun the crippling blow, but the outcome was always the same. Her lying on the ground, the world slipping in and out of darkness, and a voice calling from the sidelines just as fangs pierced her flesh. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. It could have been Xander, since he was the one who had reached her first, but she wasn’t sure.



Fragments of a conversation clung to her subconscious and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to make sense of the jumbled words she was recalling. She could remember someone saying her name and then voices rising in anger, but she had no idea what it was about. And if it had been Xander, then why was he having an argument with the vampires and how had he won? She would have to call him and ask him how he had come to find her and what he had said to stop the vampires. She made a mental note and sighed, trying to force herself to sleep again. The more she slept, the less time she would have to spend thinking about her lack of a future.



She was in a partial sleep state when Joyce walked into her room and stopped beside her bed. Buffy could feel her staring and contemplated letting her know she was awake, but she remained still. Her mother brushed her hair away from her forehead and kissed her temple. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”



Several minutes passed, punctuated by the sound of Joyce’s heels on the stairs, her muffled good-byes to Spike and the sound of her car starting before Buffy replied. “I’m sorry too, Mom.”



“You should probably tell her, not me,” Spike spoke up from her doorway.



Buffy rolled quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot up her spine. “Ow. You shouldn’t do that, you know? Eavesdropping is wrong.”



“So is talking to yourself.” Spike shrugged, then regarded the look on her face. “You still have pain?”



“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Buffy asked through clenched teeth. She waited for the ache to dull and swallowed hard when it did. “And yes, I still have pain sometimes.”



“Why?”



“I’m guessing because my back was hurt, Spike.” She pushed herself up and rolled her shoulders, trying to stretch out the muscles that were throbbing.



“It happened so long ago, and with you being a Slayer and all, it shouldn’t still bother you. Have they checked you out for muscle and nerve damage? Sometimes the trauma to the spine can be ...” He trailed off, lost in a sea of thought.



“Listen to you! You sound like a physician’s home reference guide. When did you get your medical degree, Spike?” Buffy asked sarcastically.



“Eighteen seventy,” Spike said absently, not even thinking of what he was saying. He was too busy pondering the pain in her back and the implications it could have.



“Yeah, right. You’re a doctor. Tell me another one.”



“What?” Her chatter pulled Spike from his thoughts and he realized what he had said.



“You’re a doctor?”



He ran a hand over his hair, nervously ruffling it out of place. “Oh, I was kidding.”



“I figured, and if it wasn’t so farfetched, it would probably be funny.”



“Why is it farfetched?”



“Look at you! Bleached out hair, raggedy clothes and a cockney accent from hell.”



"I have never been ’cockney'."



"You've never been much."



“I was a mortal once.”



“And I’m sure the term loser could apply to that too.”



“I thought we had a truce,” Spike pointed out.



“When did I agree to a truce?”



“I have things to do today. I don’t have time for this.” Spike pulled her cover back, ready to lift her and put her in her chair. “Do you need to use the restroom?”



“Yeah.”



“Okay, I’ll take you downstairs. I’ve got to install some of those safety rail things in the bathroom on this floor.”



Lifting her, Spike carried her out the door and down the stairs. He deposited her on the toilet, then stood for several seconds, watching her pull herself upward on the counter. He was tempted to ask her how she managed to get her shorts down alone, but thought better of it. “I’ll just go get your chair.”



“No,” Buffy said quickly, holding herself up with two rails.



“No?”



“Well, I ... could I ... Uhm, I don’t want to be down here alone so when I’m finished, can I sit up there and watch you put the rails in?”



“You want to watch me install rails?” Spike was stunned when she nodded. “Fine. Whatever.”



He pulled the door closed and walked into the kitchen. He got her a glass of juice, toasted several pieces of bread and took it up to her room, then returned to the bathroom door. “Are you almost ready?”



Buffy finished securing her hair in a ponytail and smoothed a few flyaways into place. She was out of breath, partly from wriggling in and out of her shorts on the floor, but mostly because doing everything she had to do was almost impossible in a room built for people who walked. Just brushing her teeth was daunting enough considering how high the sinks were. Luckily for her, her mother had a full length mirror on one wall, so she could check her hair from her current position on the toilet.



And she had no idea why she was worried about her hair at all. It’s not like she cared to impress anyone, right? Pulled back this way, exposing her darker roots, she looked like a brunette again. She studied herself, narrowing her eyes, then opening them wide. She definitely liked blonde better. The darker growth made her look paler than usual and didn’t really bring out the greens and grays of her eyes.



“Buffy?” Spike knocked again.



“Oh, come in.” Buffy took a deep breath and waited for him to open the door.



Spike pushed the door open and looked her up and down. “You look human again.”



“Shut up!” Buffy snapped, trying to camouflage the glee she felt that he had noticed her appearance.



He lifted her and headed up the stairs, wondering if she would be willing to tell him about what had happened after her mother had forced her out of the house. Ever since Joyce had told him about it, he had been curious about where Buffy had gone and what she had done. Sitting her in her chair, he lifted the tray that fit across the handles and snapped it into place, then put her breakfast down on top of it. “I’ll be across the hallway.”



Buffy nodded and began to pick at the toast he had prepared for her. “Okay.”



“Eat that, Slayer. We are not going to have a repeat of yesterday.”



“I don’t like toast.” Buffy peeled off the crust and pushed it aside, eyeing it warily.



“You are worse than an infant.” Spike snatched the plate and put one hand on his hip. “What will you eat? Should I get you some bird seed? You certainly eat like one.”



“I’m still full from my late dinner. My mom gave me Chinese food.”



“Your mom didn’t give you a damn thing. I did.”



Buffy’s eyes widened and she gasped, not believing him for one second. “You brought that up here?”



“What? Are you going to say it wasn’t good now?”



“I was going to say thank you,” she replied seriously, then sipped her juice.



“That’s it?” Spike watched her closely, waiting for her to insult him, then rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome.”



Buffy watched him walk out the door and set her glass down on her tray. If he brought up her dinner, he may have been the one who had turned down her bed and put her under the covers. She had been sleeping soundly and barely recalled it at all. It had been the smell of Sweet and Sour Chicken that had woken her up entirely and she had realized that someone had put her to bed. She had just assumed it was her mother. Why would Spike bother at all when it wasn’t his responsibility?



She heard him tinkering around in the bathroom and rolled out into the hallway, watching him intently. He was wearing those loud shorts again, the ones with the sun and sand castles. He was kneeling with his back to her, laying out various screws and pieces of railing and she watched him, studying his movements. He didn’t look at all like a demon right then. His feet were bare, toes curling to support his weight as he squatted on his knees and fumbled with a sheet of instructions, and his appearance was anything but frightening. The shorts, the bare legs and the bed hair made him look normal and sexy. ~ I did not just go there! ~



“Bloody hell!” Spike shouted suddenly.



Buffy jumped in her seat at the sound of his voice. At the sound of his very familiar voice saying a very familiar phrase. She ignored the fact that he had stood and was hopping around the small bathroom. All she could think about was the fact that her dream suddenly made sense. Spike had been the man she heard when the vampire bit her. He had shouted ’bloody hell’ and then argued with them, telling them something about seniority. Then he had lifted her, cradling her against his chest until Xander shouted her name.



“Slayer, I just rammed a screw through my knee!” Spike tapped her on the arm and pointed at his bloody leg. “Where does your mum keep the band-aids?”



She was oblivious to anything he had said after he had shouted. It was beginning to make sense. The vampires were after Spike because of *her*. She stared into his face and whispered, “It was you.”



“What?” Grabbing a roll of toilet paper, Spike pressed it against the hole in his knee and glared at her.



“You stopped those vampires from killing me, didn’t you? You saw what was happening and you ran up and made them stop. That’s why they want to get back at you, isn’t it?”



Spike stared down at the floor, unsure of what to say. She was absolutely right. It was bad enough that he had taken to hunting demons for food and violence, but when he had intervened and prevented them from killing the Slayer, he had broken every demon code there was. He had lied, pretending that he was still the big bad and wanted her for his own. He had claimed that she was responsible for the chip in his head and that if anyone had earned the right to kill her, it was him. They had finally backed off, leaving him to it. He had lifted her, intent on taking her to Giles’ place, but he had heard Xander shout for her and knew she would be safe with him.



How was he supposed to know that one of the vampires had stayed behind to see the Slayer catch her death?



That night was the first of a series of beatings that he had endured for her. Because he had turned on his kind and saved her life and he made no apologies for it.



Buffy touched his arm tentatively. “The first aid kit is in under the sink.”



Saying nothing, he retrieved the kit, sat on the edge of the tub and began to rummage through it. He was painfully aware of the fact that she was watching his every move and concentrated hard on securing the bandage on his knee. Once it was in place, he closed the lid and stood, rolling a towel to put under his legs to keep from having the same accident twice.



Buffy shook her head when he went back to work, turning his back to her again. “Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”



Spike sat up straight and sighed loudly, not looking at her. “Don’t you think I’ve been looking for an explanation since it happened?”



“You saved my life, Spike. Why?”



“I’m not going to talk about this.”



“If you don’t, I’ll draw my own conclusions.”



“Just don’t color outside the lines,” he mumbled absently, trying his best to ignore her.



“Did you know I was paralyzed and would be miserable? You did it to spite me, didn’t you?”



Spike stood abruptly, tossing the railing in his hand against the wall. “You would think that!”



“What am I supposed to think? That you did it out of the kindness of your heart? You don’t have kindness! You did it to punish me! Just admit it. Say it. Say that you wanted me to go through life alone and miserable and half dead and unwanted because I did it to you! You should have let me die!” Buffy began to sob and rolled herself back, going into her bedroom. She slammed the door as hard as she could, causing it to splinter at the hinges, and rolled toward her bed. She knocked the tray off her chair and leaned forward, resting her forehead against her comforter and crying softly.



Spike opened her door and walked slowly into the room. “You wouldn’t have stayed dead. They were planning on turning you, you know?”



“Go away.”



“You wanted an explanation and there it is! I didn’t want you to be a vampire. You think I damned you into that chair? You don’t know what damned is, Slayer.”



“I said get out!” Buffy screamed at him, reaching for something to throw at him.



He caught her arm as she tried to throw her phone at him and pinned her wrists. “You think being in a chair is hell, don’t you? You think that being stuck on your ass is the worst feeling in the world. Do you want to know what’s worse? Knowing that there is a sunrise out there that you can’t see because it will kill you. You don’t forget how it feels to have sunlight on your face. You don’t forget how clouds look like cotton balls and the sky changes colors like a prism. It stays with you and every day that you don’t have it makes you want it more.”



“And so does knowing what it feels like to walk! You think I can just forget that?” She shouted, her face flushing in anger. Her hands shook as she ran them over her face, and looked away.



“So you would rather be a vampire?”



“I would rather be dead!”



“Then you are a fool!”



“Fine, I’m a fool.” The reply came with no inflection.



Spike let go of her and put her phone back on the cradle. “Admitting it is the first step.”



Buffy watched him stroll toward the door, then looked away when he paused and turned to face her. He cleared his throat and stepped back toward her. “And just for the record, you aren’t alone. I know that I’m not the best company in the world, but I’m here.”



He waited for her to reply and when she didn’t, he went back into the bathroom and began working again. His mind wandered the entire time, replaying the things that Joyce had told him that morning and the things that Buffy had said to him. The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize why she was so screwed up. People had a habit of abandoning her. He had been there a couple of days now and only Willow had stopped to visit. Her father wasn’t around, Giles wasn’t around and most of all, Angel had not been around. Surely he had to know what had happened to her. News traveled fast in the demon world.



As he installed the final rail, he stood and surveyed his handiwork. He was about to go and tell Buffy that he was finished and ask her if she wanted lunch, when he noticed her sitting in the hallway watching him. “Slayer, you are a lot of trouble.”



“Did you only do it because they were going to change me?” She watched him closely, her eyes betraying the pain she felt.



Spike walked into the hallway and squatted down in front of her. He knew that she needed to hear something more, something good, anything to make her life seem valuable. He shook his head and spoke slowly. “I did it because of who you are. I did it because I wanted to. I guess I figured the world would be really boring without you in it.”



“Are you sorry you did it?”



“No.” His eyes met hers and held and he was stunned to feel something in his heart tugging at him. “And don’t you be sorry that I did it.”



“Spike?” Buffy leaned forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s really hard to have a serious moment with you when you are wearing this outfit.”



His face broke into a grin at the same time hers did. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to have a serious conversation with someone who thinks Max and Liz are a super couple.”



“Max and Liz are a super couple, dummy. And at least I don’t think that Passions is the best hour on television.”



“Hey! Attack me if you want to but don’t you dare attack my soap!”



“You’re pathetic.” Buffy laughed lightly, then paused, realizing that she had let her guard down and actually enjoyed his company for a split second. “I-I-.”



“You like me.” Spike shrugged and winked at her. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. No one can resist me.”



“You mean repel you.” Buffy smiled easily and listened to him grumble about her needing to have the last word all the time. She watched him pick up the spare parts, ribbed him about the fact that there were spare parts at all, and then rolled into her bedroom when he went down the stairs to find them some lunch. She went to her window and raised the blind, staring out at the noonday sunlight that filtered through the trees in her yard. Spike was right. She would have missed never seeing the sun again.



He was right about a few things.



It was bound to happen sooner or later.



She liked him.





You must login (register) to review.