Disclaimer: CB is not mine.
NOTE: Ok, for all those who think the story line is going slow. I'M SORRY!!!! I am trying but I think that the relationship between Spike and Faye needs to be in a way rebuilt. Ya know they changed so much, anyway that's why the story line between them is kinda long. Sorry again, I promise to work at the length!! Thanks for all the reviews, they make the difference!!!
~VT~
Chapter 8
NOTE: Who is Diandre. Friend, ally? tell me what you think! I know who she is but who do you think she is?
"I didn't think you cared, Spike," Faye said looking at the black silk dress on the bed. She looked back up at him with sarcasm on her face. "I wondered why we only had money for only one room, you're splurging our money on clothes and Starlight Orchestra tickets." She sat on the chair, arms folded across her breasts as she stared gently at Spike who was flipping through the TV channels as he lay on the bed next to a brand new tuxedo and dress. The small scene touched her, though she didn't know why or how.
"Faye, you know me, you'd have to kill me to dress up like that. But if it'll help us catch Florence and get us closer to Jet..."
"You'll do anything." She sighed as she stood, her whole body weary, her ankle still sore but her will still refusing to acknowledge it as a weakness. Would he ever do anything for her sake? She slightly limped towards Spike and to the dress he'd bought, trying not to limp too much as to cause his notice. She lifted the plastic bag it was under and stared at it. It was a beautiful black silk with oriental designs in a deep rich gold. It was breath taking.
"Well, at least you have good taste. So where is this Diandre girl going to be?" Her voice sounded so distant, she felt so distant, like wind that wasn't blowing anywhere, just standing still in the destruction the world faced everyday. She felt lost to time then, as if she wanted to go away, wanted to leave and never look back. It wasn't just memories of pain anymore, it wasn't just the fact that she was living something so old, so tiring that it didn't seem worth living anymore, it was knowing there was something so close to her reach that made her feel alive, and she couldn't get it no matter how hard she tried.
Suddenly everything in her past up until that moment seemed pointless and she wanted to start over.
She couldn't. She had chosen her path and she knew she had to walk it.
Spike smiled at her, his face gentle, and for a second she just wanted to fall down next to him and pull his arms around her. "I don't have any taste at all. I just asked what the latest fashion was and I bought it." He sat up on his elbow and looked at her. "You like it? I tried to find the least sluttiest thing at the store," he said sarcastically. "Anyway, this Diandre is going to be at the Starlight Orchestra tonight."
She stared at him hard, and slapped him on the shoulder. "Whatever, Spike." She walked over to the window and stared out at the snow covered streets, faintly hearing the memory of Gren's song on the saxophone. It had snowed when she had been with him, and the thought of him weakened her soul. He had nothing to live for except for revenge on Vicious. When that failed he died believing in nothing but going home.
She didn't have anything to live for. Was she going to die believing in nothing?
She had Spike, but Spike wasn't really there. He was just something she dreamed up long ago and was just realizing that the dream wasn't just a dream, but something just as remote all the same. She knew that all her dreams were just things that flew away as fast as they could go from her reach. So she had stopped dreaming and started faking what she didn't have.
"Do they have a gym here? A workout area?" She asked as she turned away from the window.
Spike looked at her sideways. "Second floor. Why?" He asked. He never remembered her working out before.
She opened her bag and took out a pair of sweats and white tank top. "I need to work out some stress." She walked into the bathroom and came out in a few minutes, hair tied up, and sneakers securely tied. Her ankle protested to the pressure but she was beyond ignoring it.
Spike nodded and went back to watching TV as she walked out the door and made her way down the hallway. The air in the hotel was cold despite the heating system, hell Pluto was a cold planet, the coldest one in fact. She rubbed her shoulders and arms with her hands as she got on the elevator and hit floor two.
She rested her head against the wall of the elevator as it began to move, her eyes closing, her body relaxing as the enclosure comforted her, caressed her and made her want to fall asleep. She sighed. She shouldn't be tired, the whole way to Pluto she had slept, reveled in the dreams that took her away from living.
The dreams had turned to nightmares before long though and then she had woken up, ten minutes from landing.
The bell rang and the elevator stopped as the doors opened. The gym blasted loud music as two men pumped on the weights, the rest of the room empty but full of equipment. She stepped out and made her way to the punching bag. She needed to hurt something, work her frustration out.
She let her body feel the rhythm of the music as she started her assault on the worn leather. She punched with her left arm. The past needs to disappear. She punched with her right arm. Feelings need to leave me the fuck alone. She kicked with her right foot. Spike needs to get the hell out of my mind. She punched with her right again. I need to stop worrying. She kicked with her right again. And whoever has Jet needs to be ready for the biggest fight of their lives. I'm going to kick their ass! She kicked with her left foot and pain ricocheted off her ankle through whole body as she gasped for the breath that was stolen from her.
"Uh, ow," she hissed. She saw black spots as she fell to the ground the blue mat hugging her body as she landed. Damn...
The two men were there in an instant. "You alright, babe?" A guy with blue hair asked as he stared down at her, his toothless gap stared down at her with concern.
The other man was a big as hell, and he was bald to go with the good looks he didn't have. "Yeah, Miss, are you Ok?" His voice sounded dumb as hell too. Music blared through the room and they had to shout for her to hear them.
She jumped up, almost falling down again from the shot of pain coming from her left leg. You stop that now, she scolded her foot. She didn't need two ugly as hell men asking if she needed help, she didn't need anyone asking if she needed help. "I'm fine," she said shortly, angrily, and ignorantly. Her life didn't need help, she didn't need help.
Who was she trying to fool?
The two men didn't like her tone. "Hey, babe, no need to be rude." The blue haired said angrily.
"No need to call me 'babe' either." Her voice was pretty damn cold as she went back to punching the bag. Her life was starting to get pretty damn cold again. Her anger and her frustration hit their mark on the black leather just before she was grabbed from behind by her shirt and slammed into the wall. She could feel blood drip down her lip as she cried out in surprise. What the fuck...?
The big man had her, the bald one, and his grip held her hair and her shirt painfully as he turned her to face the blue haired man. The skinny man looked at her with rage, obviously not used to being dissed. "I'll call whoever I want 'babe'." He smacked her hard across the face as she struggled, pain ripping through her face as the blow knocked at her unconsciousness. The grip in her purple mane tightened and she bit into her lower lip, her eyes radiating anger.
"That fuckin' hurts," she said referring to the roots ripping from her scalp. Her clenched teeth were bright with blood, and tears sprung to her eyes. Rage filled her soul, anger that she was allowing herself to be beat up by two rednecks. Vicious had been a helluv alot stronger, had been a helluv alot worse...
The blue haired man smiled. "Good, it's supposed to hurt. Just like this is," he said as he slapped her hard in the opposite direction. He was enjoying this all too much, she thought bitterly.
"Got to hell," she spat.
She was hit again.
Blood was rich in her mouth and she coughed at it trying to clear it away from her throat. She reached in her pants and slowly gripped her knife hidden there in her thigh strap. The blue haired man was going on and on about how he didn't like rejection and how she was being a bitch, and how he was going to teach her a lesson.
He was the one who was going to be taught a lesson.
She let the knife fly behind her, hate radiating off the blade with red sincerity. The grip in her hair loosened as the man cried out in surprise and pain. She struggled hard and got free, landing hard on her feet. She punched the man with the blue hair hard ignoring her foot as it screamed pain through her and made a break for the elevator. She couldn't take two men, one ten times bigger than she, without any weapons. It wasn't possible. Anger pulsed through her veins right next to the fear that pushed her to panic.
She hit the button, turning and getting ready for the next attack. She knew she was going to have to fight before the damn elevator came to deliver her from evil. Stairs? The blue haired man was already coming for her and he slammed into her hard as he squashed her up against the elevator doors. Too late.
"You, bitch!" he yelled as he hit her hard up against the doors again. Her body screamed out in pain, protesting the rough abuse.
"Asshole," she hissed back through broken bones, and bruised skin.
She could feel the breath leaving her but she wasn't going down that easily, no fucking way. She kneed him in between the legs, and pretty damn hard too. He let go of her, but the bulky man was on his way, blood pouring from a wound in his shoulder. He punched her hard and she went flying. She landed hard against the nearest wall and felt her ribs crack and her head throb. Her whole body feeling as if it was being attacked by a million different bees, inside and out.
Fear was prickling at her from every direction as she struggled to get up, to stand and face whatever was coming to her, but her ankle, the weariness, the pain, it was all too much and before she knew it the blue haired man was on top of her, slapping her face side from side, laughing and cursing like a mix between God and the Devil. He had her knife as he stabbed her twice in the side, three times in the shoulder, and once in the arm. He got the satisfaction of hearing her scream and cry. She could feel the tears mixing with her useless efforts.
Did she deserve this?
She could feel her vision failing the pain entering her body like a forgotten visitor, and then she was fighting back, her eyes wild with determination as she fought. She wasn't going to be beaten by another of life's unfair battles, no! She was panicking and the adrenaline that pulsed through her body was like a fiery halo of insanity. Fuck the world for doing this to her! She was screaming, crying, pleading. Did she hear herself repeatedly call for Spike?
The blue haired man laughed at her attempts as he told her he liked his women fighting as he ripped at her shirt with her own knife. No, No, her mind screamed unable to comprehend what was happening.
She fought harder.
He stabbed her hard in the shoulder, the blade hitting the matt below her as she screamed.
"Spike!"
He was kissing her while his hand explored the inside of her shirt the other holding her hands above her head. Her mind couldn't comprehend that it was all happening like this, that everything she'd worked for was being put to shame, being tossed out the window. No, this wasn't happening, it was all a nightmare. Every movement she made caused her pain. Her attempts failed and she couldn't give up. Her heart sunk with the knowledge that no matter what she was doing she couldn't stop what was happening. She couldn't stop what she knew, had she been physicly able, to prevent. She felt hopelessness fill her from head to foot as she cursed through tears.
And then the blue haired man was flung off her to the far corner of the room, a woman shooting his sorry ass with a beautiful golden gun. Faye could barely see, could barely move as she lay sprawled on the floor, her hair covering the left side of her face. She should have been thankful but all she could do was sob and breathe Spike's name.
The bulky man ran after the woman, his body shaking with anger, but she shot only once, hitting in the head, watching with a smile as his head exploded and tissue flew everywhere. She walked over to the blue haired man who was staring at her wide eyed, fear shaking his whole body as he clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers.
The woman wasted no time as she shoved the end of the gun in his mouth and fired.
Then it was over and the woman was standing over Faye, pity and concern written across her familiar beauty. Her green hair was straight and the ends had a hint of pink, her gray eyes so wonderfully warm as she picked Faye up and carried her to the elevator. Faye closed her eyes wanting to disappear from the pain, the hate, the shame, everything that was killing her inside.
Everything had happened so fast. All she had wanted was to escape everything that happened in the past and present that gave her more to hurt about, more to cry about, more to make her want to die and get life over with.
Florence Diandre...
Then she felt another pair of arms grab her firmly, holding her tightly with protectiveness and Faye opened her eyes to see Spike's face filled with concern and anger as he talked with Diandre. Spike gently took hold of the knife in her shoulder and pulled.
Pain ripped through pain, red clashed with red, and death lingered against life. She could hear herself scream weakly but her voice was so distant, not really there. Oh God she didn't want to die, she was scared. And yet a small sense of peace was filling her, making her warm and comforted.
She moved to cover what her ripped shirt revealed and her movement caused Spike to look down, his face so soft, so thankful that she was alive as he pressed his fingers over the open wound on her shoulder. The small pressure killed her, caused her to wince as her blood flowed out of her. She breathed his name painfully, begging him to help her in a way that was so desperate, so urgent tears streaked her face and filled his. There was nothing embarrassed in his eyes as Florence covered her shaking body with her own coat as Spike carried Faye and followed Diandre down the hallway.
Then, thankfully, all Faye knew was blackness.
~VT~
