Spike pulled her free hand into his, effectively preventing her from roaming back to the buttons of his shirt. What he wanted was to shag her rotten. What he wanted was to take every advantage of her disability, get his rocks off, and then storm out of her life. That was the evil thing to do. That was the Spike thing to do. Silently, he cursed the day that he had blown back into Sunnydale for that blasted Gem. If he had never returned, he wouldn’t have been captured by commandos and he definitely wouldn’t be in the predicament he was in. He would also not be feeling grateful that at this very moment her crippled legs couldn't feel the erection pressing against them.
He felt her blow hot air against his neck and spoke rapidly, hoping to distract her. “I want to stop fighting with you.”
“Then let's not fight,” she replied softly, brushing her lips over his. There was so much she needed to tell him. She needed to tell him why she had been in the cemetery the day she was injured. She needed to tell him what she had planned on telling him as soon as she arrived at his crypt and he needed to know what was on her mind now. “Spike, I don’t know what it is that makes me want to--”
There was a sudden loud knocking on the door and Spike could have danced in joy. Instead, he laid her on the sofa and made his way through the darkness. The sky was illuminated by lightning as he pulled the door open and saw Giles standing drenched on the front porch. Moving aside, he ushered the man inside, then leaned against the door, closing it against the wind from the storm.
Giles pulled off the hat that was plastered to his head and stood in the foyer shaking water from his hair. “It’s quite dreadful outside. Several roads are already flooded and the radio said that La Bonita pier got washed away a short time ago. Where’s Buffy?”
“I’m in here,” Buffy called from the living room. “Spike, could you get some candles and flashlights from the pantry? They’re on the second shelf from the top.”
Giles listened as the vampire shuffled away and took a few tentative steps into the living room. “Buffy?”
“Yes?” Peering over the back of the sofa, Buffy could just make out his shadow. “Just keep walking straight, Giles.”
His thigh brushed against the recliner that sat next to the sofa and he fumbled his way into it, sighing with relief when he finally sat down. “That ’s better.”
“What are you doing out in this weather, Giles?” she asked the darkness.
“I wanted to stop in and make sure that you had all that you needed.”
“You should have called. No one should be out in that kind of storm.”
Giles pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He had been caught out in the storm; he had not ventured into it of his own free will. There was much going on and without the Slayer to maintain a balance, he was forced to do what he could to bridge the gaps. “I was visiting Willy.”
“Willy?” Buffy’s forehead creased in momentary confusion. “Willy the snitch?”
“Yes.” Giles put his glasses back on as light flickered from the kitchen. Spike had apparently found the candles. He waited until the vampire came around the corner with two candles before he spoke again. “Spike, you may want to listen to what I have to say.”
Spike paused for the briefest moment, feeling a sense of dread beginning in the pit of his stomach, before he put the candles and their holders on the coffee table and sat beside Buffy. “What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, Giles leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I went to Willy to discuss those vampires that attacked you. I recognized one from a photograph in an old Watcher’s Journal and wanted to find out if Willy knew anything of importance.”
“The suspense is killing me, Giles.” Buffy raised her eyebrows.
“At the start of the nineteenth century, the Watcher’s Council began to collect notorious vampires. Most of the captures were unsuccessful and cost many a Slayer’s life, so the acquisitions eventually stopped. However, the vampires that they did keep were used to train Slayers, and proved to be a useful tool for Watchers, as well.”
Buffy held up a hand. “And let’s not forget that whole ritual when a Slayer turns eighteen and gets to fight a demented vampire to the death with no weapons and no power.”
“What?” Spike sat forward, staring at her intently. “What are you talking about?”
“It's not relevant, Spike. Buffy can tell you all about that later.” Giles stood up and walked to the window, then refocused on the task at hand. “Buffy, telling you this is not easy so I’m just going to say it. The Council was here in town, right around the same time that the vampires attacked you. According to Willy, these vampires were supposed to kill you in return for their freedom. They were specifically chosen for the task because they have been trained and conditioned by the Council. When they failed, they had no choice but to run to avoid being recaptured.”
“Why did this happen now?” Buffy had clenched her hands into fists, ignoring the jolts of pain that came from the cuts on her palms. “I mean, I quit the Council over a year ago.”
“And in that year the Council underwent some changes. I wasn’t privy to that information because I had been excommunicated, but after I spoke with Willy, I called a friend in England.” Giles sat down again and stared at Buffy intently. “Because of the things that happened with Wesley and Faith and you and I, the head of the Council was removed and a new head was elected. His name is Darren Walsh and his daughter is Maggie Walsh.”
“Professor Walsh?” Buffy’s eyes widened. “But I don’t-“
“Maggie Walsh is apparently the head of a special operation here in Sunnydale called the Initiative. She had been trained to be a Watcher and introduced all sorts of scientific data which, of course, was summarily ignored by those in power at the time. When her father took control of the Council, she found herself with millions in financial backing and she moved her organization, the Initiative, here, to the only active Hellmouth.”
“And what exactly is the Initiative?” Spike asked.
“They’re the reason you have that chip in your head. They pull young soldiers from their government training for special ops and basically brainwash them into fighting demons.”
“But-“ Buffy swallowed hard, trying to digest the information. “The Council isn’t military.”
“The government has known about the existence of demons for years, Buffy.” Giles’ tone was soft. “They choose to keep it from the public for safety reasons and by doing so, they’ve given the Initiative far too much power.”
“I don’t understand why they would do this to me, though.” Buffy’s voice cracked and she struggled to maintain her composure. “Why do they want me dead?”
Sighing, Giles stood again and moved to kneel beside the sofa. “Maggie Walsh knows who you are. She knew when she came here that you were the Slayer. I’m going to assume that she wanted you out of the way. I mean, you’re aware of the existence of her organization and she most likely saw that as a threat.”
“So, what do we do?” Spike had subconsciously moved his hand to cover hers and wasn’t aware until he noticed Giles’ gaze resting there. He moved his hand away quickly, not making eye contact. “Are they going to try to kill her again?”
“I don’t think so,” Giles stated, glancing from Buffy to Spike. Something was different between them. What was it? He pushed that thought aside and directed his attention to the matter at hand. “It’s been months since Buffy was injured. I think that if they were going to try anything else, they would have. You’re not much of a threat now, Buffy.”
Buffy visibly flinched. “Right, I’m not much of anything.”
“I didn’t mean that.” Giles reached his hand up, trying to take hers, but she pulled back. “Buffy-“
“I’m tired,” she stated flatly. “Spike, could you take me upstairs?”
Spike nodded and pulled the blanket from her legs. She slipped her arms around his neck as he lifted her, then took the candle that Giles held out to them. Avoiding his gaze, Buffy laid her head on Spike’s shoulder. “Goodnight, Giles.”
Giles followed them to the foot of the stairs, wringing his hat in his hands. “I apologize, Buffy. I should have kept these findings to myself. I had no right to--”
Tightening her grip on Spike, she said, “Spike, stop.” When he paused, she looked over his shoulder at Giles. “It’s about me, Giles. I had a right to know. Just because I can’t do a damn thing about it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be told. I am still the Slayer, dammit, and it’s still my life! Don’t you dare make my decisions for me.”
“I only meant that-“
“Goodnight, Giles,” she snapped, and turned her attention back toward the stairs. “Spike, take me up.”
When they cleared the top step, Buffy heard the front door click shut and squeezed her eyes closed. Spike took her into her bedroom and sat her on the bed, not bothering to pull the cover back. Buffy reached behind her and began to tug the comforter down, but Spike stopped her. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Buffy felt him tighten his grip on her hands and relaxed her instinct to lash out at him.
“All of it. Tell me what happened with the Council to make you quit and what happened with this Initiative.” He moved to sit beside her, still holding her hand.
“I’m tired and my back hurts,” she replied, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.
Spike stood up and eased her all the way on the bed, then rolled her onto her stomach. He rubbed his palm up her spine and began to knead the flesh above her shoulder blades. “Better?”
“Mmm,” Buffy moaned.
“What was that you were saying about being eighteen and having no power?”
Rolling her eyes, she propped herself up and stared back at him. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”
“Nope.” Spike smiled at her. “I like to know everything.”
“Fine.” Buffy crossed her arms under her chin and relaxed again, staring at the way the candle sent dancing shadows flickering on the wall. “When a slayer turns eighteen, she gets stripped of her power with a special drug, and locked into a house with a crazy vampire that she has to defeat the vampire with just her wits. No weapons, nothing.”
“You’re kidding me!” Spike stopped massaging her back and moved around the bed so he could see her face. “Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Her face was somber as she met his gaze.
“They do that to their own Slayer? That’s barbaric. I mean, they strip away all of her ability to fend for herself, after she’s been reliant on it-“
“And they’ve done the same thing again.” She bit her bottom lip, working it back and forth between her teeth. “They’ve taken away my ability to fend for myself.”
“Ah, but there’s a difference.” Spike brushed a lock of hair that had come loose from her clip away from her face. “Last time, you had to fight a vampire to win. This time you have a vampire willing to fend for you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and she smiled. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’ s said to me in a long time.”
Spike cleared his throat, realizing he was on dangerous ground. "Yeah, well, don't read too much into it, Slayer. It's not like there's anyone else out there willing to put up with you."
Buffy suppressed a smile as he moved beside her again and rubbed her neck. His half assed attempt at insulting her hadn't fooled her for a minute. He'd shown concern for her well being enough times now that it was getting easy to see through his tough-guy ruse. She relaxed into the massage, ignoring the chill that moved through her body.
Spike felt her shiver slightly and realized that she was wearing a sundress with no shoes or socks. "You must be freezing."
“I’m a little cold,” she admitted.
He pulled her into a sitting position, pulled back the cover, and retrieved a gown from her bureau. He changed her quickly and soon had her beneath the cover. “I’ll just go downstairs and let you get some sleep.”
“No,” Buffy caught his arm. “Stay with me?”
“Buffy, I don’t think-“
“Just until I go to sleep?” She pointed at the window. “The storm is still so bad and I don’t want to be alone.” Grinning, she patted the bed. “I promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
He found himself grinning at her in return and slipped his shoes off, lying next to her on top of the cover. “So, you quit the Council because of that bloody test?”
“Nah, they fired Giles because he interfered with the test. They said he loved me like a daughter and that's against the rules.” Her face softened, recalling the way Giles had treated her wounds that night. She would definitely have to call and apologize to him for the way she acted earlier. “They sent me a new watcher named Wesley and I pretty much hated him.”
“Is that the reason? You didn’t like the new watcher?”
Buffy rolled slightly, positioning herself in the crook of his arm. She didn’t want to bring up Angel, didn’t want to relive the despair she felt when he had been poisoned and the Council had refused to help. “Yep, that’s it. They wouldn’t reinstate Giles, so I quit.”
“They won’t get away with this,” Spike told her, rubbing his thumb over her arm. He leaned his face into her hair, letting it tickle his chin, and shook his head. “No, they’ll definitely pay for what they’ve done to you.”
Buffy smiled. “We’re alike, aren’t we? Neither one of us are willing to admit our limitations and both of us got our limitations from the same place.” She was silent for a few seconds before she spoke again. “The only difference is that you’ll probably outlive that implant in your head and get to go back to what you were. I’ll always be this way.”
“You don’t know that.” He tightened his grip. “Maybe one day you’ll wake up and be able to jump out of the bed and slay demons again. You won’t need me. Hell, you’ll probably stake me before I can get this chip out.”
She stared into his eyes, suddenly serious. “If I got my legs back, Spike, I wouldn’t stake you.”
He tried to ignore the way her statement made him feel. If she got her legs back ... He shook his head. “You wouldn’t catch me, luv. I’d run like hell.”
Across town, Tara lit the final candle and glanced at Willow. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Willow took the flower from her dresser and nodded, peeling several of the petals off. “Spike definitely implied that something’s wrong with Buffy. We have to reverse it.”
Tara glanced at her thoughtfully. “We don’t know if the first spell even worked.”
“So we’ll do a universal removal spell to be sure.” Willow took a deep breath and began to mix ingredients.
“That will remove any spell that’s been done to her, Willow. Protection spells, luck spells. Everything.”
Willow poured powder into her bowl, sending up a plume of white smoke. “But the house will still be safe, right?”
“Well, yeah. You’re just reversing the spell on her person, but still-“
“It’s fine.” Willow took the rose stem and began to mix her ingredients, her chanting drowned out by the storm that raged through the night.
The thunder rumbled and rain splatted hard against the window pane, waking Buffy with a start. Spike had rolled toward her, both of his arms around her, and as she stirred, he pulled her closer, mumbling that it was okay. She let one of her hands rest on top of his hip and sighed in contentment. He made her feel safe, safer than she had felt since she had been injured.
They had not spoken about the kisses she had given him or made any mention of the fact that she had been very willing to sleep with him. For whatever reasons he had, he'd stopped her, but wouldn’t broach the subject. It should have hurt, but a part of her was relieved that he had prevented her from going too far too fast. Whatever was happening between them right now felt like enough. The feel of his arms, his assurances that he wasn’t leaving her, and the similarities in their situations soothed her in a way that nothing else could.
The rain seemed to get harder and Buffy squeezed her eyes closed, concentrating on anything but the storm. She pondered the myriad of emotions that she had been having since Spike came into her life. Since before she had ever been injured, there were things, just below the surface, that she had not even dared to entertain. There had always been a part of her that thought he was attractive, even during their worst battles. That was the only explanation for the fact that he wasn’t dead. She’d had a million chances to stake him.
And no one had ever kissed her the way he had. When Willow had done the spell and they were ‘engaged’, it had been so powerful, so real, that she had lost herself in it all. Of course, she had been forced to pretend when it was over that she hated every minute, but she caught herself staring at his mouth far too often. And she had been ready to tell him all of that when she had headed to his place that night. Maybe if she had not been concentrating on what she needed to say, she would have been aware of the vampires and--
A loud clap of thunder forced her to jump again and she pulled herself into a tight ball, drawing her knees upward toward her chest. Spike rolled onto his back, taking away the arm that had shielded her from seeing the lightning. She watched for a second before she stretched out, rolling onto her back.
Then it hit her.
She had moved.
She had drawn her legs up to her chest, then put them back. Her first instinct was to reach for Spike, to shake him awake and scream his name. She sat up, started to do just that, then stopped.
~If I got my legs back, Spike, I wouldn’t stake you.~ ~ You wouldn’t catch me, luv. I'd run like hell. ~
Spike sat up beside her, brushing her hair back. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Buffy jumped when she felt his hands on her. “I- I was- I had a nightmare.” The lie came easily. Her mind refused to admit, for even a split second, that she had moved at all. It was in that instant that she decided to wait and say nothing. She needed to make sure--
“Are you ready to get up?” Spike rubbed his eyes sleepily, getting to his feet beside the bed. It suddenly struck him, how natural it felt to wake up there. “I’m going to go get myself some breakfast. What do you want?”
“Uhm, nothing right now. I think I’ll sleep a while longer,” she said as she forced herself to smile up at him. “I’ll call you when I wake up.”
“Lazybones.” Spike grinned down at her as he pulled the cover back up. “I’ll check in on you in a bit.”
“Okay.” Buffy waited impatiently as he slipped his shoes on and staggered across the floor. When she heard his feet on the stairs, she shoved her cover back and stared down at her feet. Leaning down, she squeezed her toes and gasped. She felt it just fine. Sitting back up, she wiggled her toes, then bent her legs at the knees. Holding her breath, Buffy turned and lowered her feet to the floor and stood up.
Fully erect, with all of her weight on her feet for the first time in months, the Slayer began to cry. Taking several steps, she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from calling out to Spike. She couldn’t tell him - not right now - no matter how great her need was to share the news. She would wait until he knew how she felt about him and then, assuming he felt the same way, she would stand up and walk to him.
‘No, I can’t do that,' she thought. ‘I can’t hide it. My mom will be so happy!’
But, she’s out of town. You have a few days to get it all worked out, another part of her pointed out.
Sighing, Buffy slumped on her bed and held her legs out in front of her, rotating her feet and popping her ankles. Nothing had ever felt better in her life. It felt like every single inch of her body had been reborn: her limbs, her mind, her heart. She ran a hand through her hair and swallowed hard, trying to make sense of the situation. On the one hand, assuming her paralysis was permanently gone, she would be free to fight the vampires and remove the threat to Spike. But on the other hand, she would be setting him free by doing so. Buffy flopped back on the bed and buried herself in the cover. The only logical thing to do would be to bide her time and see what happened with Spike. She could let his actions dictate hers.
Rolling onto her side, she watched daylight creep from the dark. A new day should have been dawning for her, but instead, a raw fear had taken hold of her gut and twisted it. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself rising from her chair and reaching for Spike, only to find the room empty.
She couldn’t let that happen.
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