13
He was being shaken, desperately, vigorously. He felt his body lift up from the hard edges of rubble, felt some of his blood trickle down the back of his skull, and hoped none of his brains had leaked out either—wouldn't that be a bloody joke.
"Spike, please, wake up. Spike." The voice was frantic and pleading, the soft tenor ravaged by distress. Bloody hell, well if the world stopped spinning, he'd be able to give her another go, wouldn't he? Felt like a bigger hangover than the one he'd had after Dru'd left him and he drunk himself nearly senseless. Not to mention the bugger of a headache that blasted chip had given him after it decided to malfunction. He grunted out a curse word, or maybe a slew of them, his eyes screwed tightly closed so the world could still be black and he could make sense of the ringing in his noggin before he tried to add his burning eyes to the mix. His whole body hurt, and something still weighted half of him down, not that he had much strength to try to move himself anyway.
Think, bloody hell think. If he could with this racket banging upstairs.
"Thank God," the voice said in response to his muttered cusses. Whoever it was sounded relieved, but the apprehension was back as he felt cold fingers stroke his cheek. "Spike? Are you okay—"
He forced his eyes open then as the realisation hit him. Not just any bloody voice, but hers, desponding and anxious. Jade. Ow, bloody hell. It was as if opening his eyes had sparked the no-return between awake and unconscious, and he was seriously considering that unconscious had been better, where his body didn't ache quite so much and he didn't have to worry about his innards being not quite so in. Pain was one undefinable blob, stretching all over him.
But sod it, he'd take stock later, because now, there was Jade leaning over him, nearly close enough so that even the shorn edges of her hair almost touched his face, and her eyes were blue, so blue, like the sky if it had a bloody sun in it. She was the weight on him, hadn't moved since she—ow. Right. Coming back to him now, as he sorted it all out. Jade's big bad moment was interrupted by the unexpected but bloody warranted return of the Mok'Tagar demon, but he'd blacked out at that last part when his head hit rubble and they not so painlessly collided.
He wondered how long he'd blacked out for and decided it couldn't be long, since the sky hadn't changed much since everything went dark in his head.
And here was Jade, her arm being the thing that had lifted him up so he wasn't leaning back against the rubble and rubbing his achy bruises into the hard edges and making more bruises, but her arm shook, and he remembered that she wasn't in top shape herself. Thank the bloody stars for that, he thought wryly, before he could help himself, because they never would have overpowered her otherwise but—he frowned. Where was the Mok'Tagar. She wasn't standing there, and though he didn't have the best vantage point, he didn't see her crumpled body lying there either.
There was a squeak from Jade, then, as he'd lifted up his body to get a better look, she realised where she was sitting, dress riding up to her thighs, her loins still very much pressed into him, and she hurriedly shuffled off, the weight gone and his head falling dangerously close back towards the offending debris as her grip slipped somewhat, but she held on steadily, and he didn't fall. He jutted out his own elbow then, to level himself, and he pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing as he jarred an apparently broken wrist.
Bloody hell, the only part of him that didn't hurt was his privates, and he'd only narrowly avoided that—
Jade was looking at him, her eyes wide, lost and confused, letting him go when it was clear he could sit by himself. He saw it then, the bauble glowing around her neck, bright and steady. So Lythia'l had done it, after all. Jade had her soul back. He thought that should fill him with relief and elation, but he only felt an uneasiness in his gut. Weren't that easy. He wasn't so naïve to think it'd be all roses and rainbows from here on out.
"I'm fine," he heard himself say in a voice that was decidedly too croaked, so he swallowed. "Least I will be when the birds in my noggin stop nattering," and he pressed the fingers of his good hand to his skull, like it would drive the pain away. He was getting blood all over the place, as his back had been pushed into a nasty bit of rebar that'd done its best to drill a bloody hole through him.
Still, he wasn't the only thing to be concerned 'bout, here. There was Jade, her eyes not moving from his face, as if he were the only thing in the world anchoring her there. And he knew what it was like, soul returning to a body that'd had far too much fun without him, although he'd had a bit more to munch through than she did, he knew the process. First, she'd have nothing, not a clue 'bout what was going on, and then… then it'd come back, and he bloody well wished he could spare her from that.
"Spike?" She asked, those large, innocent eyes looking back at him. "I don't remember… how did we get here? What happened?"
He hesitated. Wondered how long he could shrug this off as nothing. He'd do that for her, 'course, not that it mattered. She'd remember on her own or the Scoobies would be far too willing to remind her. Pure forgiveness without scathing scrutiny was not something they excelled in, that was the sodding truth.
"Was it magic?" She was still asking, wondering how much she could probe from him, if he was at a loss as well. But no, every detail had come back excruciatingly precise. But still he hesitated. Groaned as he the shifting of his chest produced another white-hot pang. She'd broken a few of his ribs, too. She frowned in concern and shifted towards him to touch him—help him? And bloody hell, bastard that he was, he flinched, because he didn't want her to break anything else, though he sodding knew better, his body reacted first, and she didn't miss it.
She froze, like a rabbit, one hand still outstretched, and he forced himself to relax. "Just a bit worse for wear," He answered, by way of apology. She wasn't going to hurt him now, and sodding hell, he'd let her if it could fix all this. All the hangovers he'd ever experienced, getting his soul had outshined them all in a very different, much more painful sense.
Jade gasped as she seemed to look up for the first time. "Is this…"
"A bloody hole in the wall, yeah," he answered to distract her, but it didn't work.
"The Slayer Headquarters?" She finished, her eyes gazing up with apprehension at the not-so-bloody-stable building they were in the belly of.
"Yeh," he answered shortly. That he could answer.
"What happened here?" She murmured again, a soft breath of a question. He hadn't been looking at her for any length of time, and she noticed. But bloody hell, he needed time to think. To break it to her easy—and bloody hell, that was not his forte. Blunt and brusque were his sodding tried-true methods, but he couldn't stand to hurt her, knew it was coming anyway. "Spike," she repeated, and her voice wasn't so soft this time, it was desperate.
"Should try to get out o' here before the building collapses," he grunted, 'cept it was a bit hard to get to his feet, and easier bloody said than done. He didn't know where the Mok'Tagar had gone, but sure was bloody nice of her to run off and leave them at the bottom of a teetering, half-opened building that seemed like it was going to keel over if it got taste of some wind. But they had to get out of here while they could. He didn't know much longer Jade's nescience would last. Not long enough, not ever long enough.
"What happened?" She asked again, and her voice wasn't soft anymore, those gentle blue eyes now turned penetrating. She already suspected. He could hear it in the way her voice trembled, how her good hand clenched into a fist.
"Jade…" He started, and his voice was hoarse. So much for putting on a good bloody show. He tried to raise to his feet, did so, although he swayed unsteadily, but she stayed crouched where she was, knees folded into the rubble.
"I don't remember anything. The last thing I remember…" She frowned, trying to recall, looking off into the debris as if it held the answers for her. Problem was, she look hard enough and it might just be.
"Not now," he cautioned her, but his strict tone turned pleading. He outstretched his hand, the one that wasn't broken, for her to take. For him to pull her to their feet.
"I lost it," She said in a whisper. Tears blurred those blue eyes of hers, and she tore her gaze from the broken floor up to him. "Didn't I?"
"We gotta move, Super girl," he said, just as eager to avoid this conversation as she was to have it.
"I lost my soul?" Jade said aloud, in a whisper, bewildered.
"'S on you right now," Spike pointed out, earning a bitter frown from her.
"Why can't I remember—" her eyes flickered away from his face, down to how he held his wrist and ribs protectively, the various cuts and bruises showing, a easy display from how his shirt was ripped open at the front, and hell—he remembered belatedly that his pants were undone, zipped up but unbuttoned, but her gaze didn't travel that south, back up to his face, memorizing all the cuts and bruises there.
"Jade," This time he gripped for her hand instead of waiting for her to lift it to him. "Gotta get a move on, luv."
"Who hurt you?" She asked, demanding. She had no strength to pull her hand from him, but she didn't respond to the pressure he applied either, staying where she was, crouched.
"Don' do this now," he urged her. Begged her. Don't do this ever, just let it go, Super girl, he urged her silently.
"It was me, wasn't it?" She tore her hand from his grasp now, rifling her fingers through her hair, pressing her hand tightly to her scalp as if that'd pull what she wanted from her mind. "Why don't I remember!" She cried out.
"It'll take time." He dropped to his knees, to her level. If she wasn't coming willingly—then he wasn't leaving her. Of course he wasn't.
"I hurt you," her red-rimmed eyes stared out between the locks of her dark hair.
"Y'didn't mean to," he answered back as evenly as he could.
"Oh God," her face crumpled, "I hurt you, Spike." And then her hand was moving, and he didn't flinch this time, but it wasn't towards him anyway, it was within the debris, and her fingers withdrew a small shard of wood that he recognized. He moved, but she was faster, taking the makeshift stake and holding it, pointed side to her left breast.
"What the bloody hell!" He bellowed, angry, frightened.
"I was holding this when I came to," She blurted out. "To you. I was going—what," she stammered. "I hurt you. I did this—" She looked up at the broken hotel that housed them. "Didn't I?"
He wasn't going to hold it back from her anymore, not with that pointed to her heart. He jerked towards her, and she moved back, slowly, determinedly, the sliver of wood not maneuvering. "Yes," he answered.
"What else did I do?" She was playing the calm game, but Spike knew better than that. Knew she was like little broken shards right now, all grinding against each other.
"Weren't you," He said stubbornly.
"Of course it was me!" She disagreed, not taking the easy way out, the way she deserved. "There's blood in my mouth. My whole body hurts. I think I—" she closed her eyes tightly to keep the tears from leaking out. "Oh, what did I do?"
"Wasn't you!" He made a grab for the stake in her hand, and she raised her elbow to counter, protecting herself, her eyes open in a flash.
"Yes, it was! I lost my soul, I did. Whatever I did… it was all me. I can't—" Her lower lip trembled, and she lowered her head to her knees and let out a scream filled with rage and desolation. His Jade. His Slaypire, and bloody fuck he couldn't do anything to help her, not while she held that to her, and fear made him angry.
"Put that sodding thing down!" He demanded hotly. "Give it to me." She let his fingers wrap around her wrist as her head raised up again, but her hold on the wood didn't desist. She stared back at him, mourning, shaking her head.
"I can't, I can't, I can't—"
"What, live like this? You bloody well have to. You're not a sodding coward." And Jade trembled, but her hold was still strong. "Don't you dare. Y'wouldn't except it from Lily, so don't you bloody well try to do this to me. Just so you escape the pain."
"I don't—" Her teeth chattered. "If I did this, then I could do it again, I could—"
"That doesn't give you an out. You don't get that right, you don't do that to me, so give me that bloody stake now." And he pulled at her hand, and this time, she relented, her gaze following it as he threw it aside with distaste. And then his anger was spent, because this was his broken little Vampire, and he'd been close to losing her again, and that terrified him, and now he took his good arm and wrapped it around her and pulled her close, pulled her to his chest even though it hurt like a bloody bastard, and she was so very small, and her body was convulsing with tears. "Shh, shh, Super girl," He murmured to her. She was lost and confused, and she only had fragments, and the memories would swamp her soon, and he knew what it was bloody like, and he held her tighter, as if he could make it all go away.
The building creaked and moaned, small pieces of broken furniture threatened to fall on them, but he continued to stroke the smooth curve of Jade's scalp, taming her hair until not one piece was out of place. Half of it was clumped anyway, by blood that had dried it into spikes. Into his chest he heard a cross between a sob and a whimper, as she began to get her crying under control, for it was from the shock and pain more than anything else.
"Need to get out of here," He reminded her, when she pulled back. Her eyes, they were full of guilt, and rimmed with red and her skin had marks on it from how tightly it'd been pressed into the collar of his jacket. There was a dazed expression on her face, an emptiness. She'd come to tears, but he had the feeling it hadn't quite sunk in for her yet. But it would. Still, he rose again, and this time, she accepted his hand. Her mouth dropped into an 'o' shape and she let out a strangled groan as she came to her feet.
"Ah, Christ," She muttered, pain in her voice. "Hurts like hell," She said it mainly to herself, not complaining, and Spike glanced up, at the hole in the floor above them.
"You made that. With your back. 'Magine it hurts a bit," he told her, not without sympathy. If she hadn't protected him, it would have been a Spike-sized hole there, and he'd be lucky to get to his feet. Jade'd had only spent a few minutes huddled to his chest, but they had been dangerous ones, and he'd be damn ticked off if they went through all of this to be crushed by a building. "Just hold it together, yeah?" He asked of her. "Just let us get out o' this. Focus on that."
Her bottom lip trembled, but that stoicism entered her expression, and she nodded. She'd keep it together, at least for now. He could trust that. Trust her, his Slaypire, even if he didn't quite know where they stood. Right now, he was the one with the advantage. Knew exactly what'd passed, where she didn't have a clue. He remembered the fear when she'd pushed that near-stake into his chest, and how it felt when she snapped his wrist, Bloody hell, each time his hand moved he had a reminder. But that wasn't her. And hell, he'd been lying if he said he hadn't gone through worse with Drusilla, all those years they'd been together, sometimes it was the only way Dru could fight the barmy in her head, taking it out on Spike. And he'd been so willing then, anything to help his Dark Princess.
Now, it was anything to help his Super girl.
"Can you get up alright?" He asked. Pretty sure he could make the jump to the next level, even though he wasn't quite as old as Captain Forehead or as past-Slayer as Jade, but Jade looked shaky at best, and he wasn't sodding leaving her. She nodded without speaking, and he pointed up with the arm that didn't want to fall up. "You first, then."
She clenched her jaw, closing her eyes briefly for a second as she walked her way under the hole, then, burst up in a hasty, although not graceful jump, making it through the hole and up onto the next level. She disappeared from his sight then, and he felt a pang of worry pierce through his chest—or maybe it was one of his broken ribs. He couldn't very well protect her from herself up there, and if Buffy's gang was waiting—
"Spike," But no, there she was, her hand outstretched through the hole, slightly smeared with blood and dust, but hers, though he did his best to ignore it, making as far as he could , but having only one usable hand that didn't make him want to scream bloody murder, he was thankful for her fingers wrapping around his shoulder and helping him the rest of the way up.
"Bloody hell," he gasped out as he landed heavily on his chest, feeling iron on his tongue and lips as he spat up a few drops of crimson, wriggling his way back onto his knees on a very unbalanced floor. He clutched his chest with a grunt, those sodding ribs of his, and Jade gripped him again, pulling him standing, but she wasn't so steady herself, and it seemed she was leaning into him as much as he leaned into her.
Two battered bloody champions, they were, although they hadn't exactly been fighting the good fight. Least, Jade wouldn't see like that.
"Oh God," She said, in a choked gasp. She pulled away from him, and her eyes were wide, unseeing. "I—" A horrified expression was on her face, no doubt reliving something she'd done—and sod it, he wanted to stop it, and not just because they were in the bloody maw of a crumbling building. Not even One-eye the Carpenter could put this bloody piece back together.
He grabbed her by the cheek, his thumb curling under her chin as he jutted her face up to meet his. "I know. You're starting to remember. But keep it in bloody check til we get out of here, luv. Do that for me." And perhaps he was a prat, relying on the loyalty he knew was there, had remained in her despite the change. And he knew she'd see the love that had remained as a perversion, some sick twist to be ashamed of, he knew it was as pure as a soulless thing could have done. He knew that, but she wouldn't see it that way.
"Okay." She swallowed. "Which way to get out?"
Huh. Now that was a solid sodding question. One floor was one thing, jumping up all the way to the roof was quite another. "Think the entrance was somewhere over here." And though they'd stepped apart, he outstretched his hand, and with hesitation, however slight, she took it. The floor tilted and split at more than a few junctures, and "Bloody hell," Spike snapped, kicking the wooden pieces out of the way. Crosses sodding everywhere. Jade was constantly cringing away from those still nailed on the wall, 'cause they'd built this place up like a bloody fortress. And might have done well enough to hold Jade back too, if she hadn't gone and knocked the floor out from under them. And he shouldn't have admired that, but truth was, he did a little. It had been smart. A bit smarter than Spike's tried and true run into it all method he'd exercised as a soulless vampire.
"Up there," because the floor had taken quite a bloody tilt to it, the lighter chairs and what have you had already slid down, but the heavier furniture and bookcases that had lost its books but not its overall weight were still sitting there, and that's what he was worried about. He gripped Jade's hand tighter as the incline increased, not missing the muffled gasp of pain she exerted as quietly as she could. Right. He could see it now, looking down at their conjoined fingers, the burn marks there from holy water. The water itself had done its job, which was why it wasn't burning his skin back, but he knew it must have bloody stung.
"Right behind you," Jade said, breaking into his thoughts, as if she knew what he'd been thinking, and her fingers squeezed tight around his. "I'm fine."
He nodded. "Lobby door right up here," but bloody hell, it wasn't the exit that Buffy and her ilk must have used, because as they approached it, he saw it was still locked shut with a padlock the size of his arm. O' bloody course. And his already aching legs protested more as he was nearly bending his knees in a 45 degree angle just to make it up the floor. The both of them struggled, but didn't stop, egged bloody on by the moaning and groaning of the building they were in. Was ready to collapse in on itself, and too much moving about would definitely bring a problem.
They were nearly crawling by the time they reached the door, and Spike swung his arm around the door bar for something to hold onto, loosing a 'bloody hell' between his teeth as he knocked his wrist. The door was above them, and gravity was pulling him down, so much that he was level with the tilted door, and not flat with the ground. He pulled Jade up with his good arm, pulling their joined hands up to the door handlebar so she could hold herself up, and he took his now-released arm and wrapped it around her waist instead, to steady her as much as he could. She shifted, rolling in so her head was near to his shoulder and they were more like one thing hanging instead of two. While his hand steadied her, she pulled at the lock itself, hissing with pain, a sizzling heard as her palm burned and she snapped her hand back, the motion rocking the two of them.
"Bloody hell, did they have to put sodding holy water on everything?" Spike complained as he tightened his hold on Jade. She was shorter than him, so she couldn't pull on the door and keep her feet on the barest incline of floor that they had left, which meant most of her weight was on him. He could feel her body, the tightly corded muscle, each tremor and tremble and shaky unnecessary breath, and one of her legs rested over his to help prop herself up, and she was such a small thing, but bloody precious, and he'd came so close to losing her.
Still might, if they couldn't get this sodding door open.
She curled her hand in a fist, teeth clenched. "I can try again, just give me a second." Her palm was blistered, raw and ugly red. There was a snapping somewhere to the left of them, which was slightly down due to the redirection of the room, and they watched one of the sofa chairs give up its hold and slide down the sloped floor. They had to get the bloody hell out of here before the building came down 'round their ears.
"No," He disagreed. "Hold yourself up and I'll give it a go. 'M better against holy water than you are."
She looked back at him, brow furrowed in a frown. "I can do it. It's just—"
"Burning you, luv. Once you build up a hundred years or so of tolerance, we can bloody talk. Now hold yourself up so I can let go o' you."
Her expression was a mixture of annoyance and frustration, and guilt of course—but that'd been there for a while—but she nodded, gripping the door handle and lifting her own self up so that Spike could let go of her. Their legs hit against each other, still entwined. Her bad arm was pressed solidly to her waist, the holy-water arrow wound in her shoulder not allowing her much in the way of movement, but her one hand was enough to hold her own weight.
That lifted off of him, Spike turned his now free hand to the lock. A quick test of the chains proved that they were dribbled with the same holy water mixture—of course they were. He would have been disappointed if they missed that bit, but seeing as the chains were likely to be weaker than the padlock itself, that's what he turned his strength to. And bloody hell, it hurt like a bugger, smoke rising up from his burning fingers. He tugged, hard as he could, pulling viciously, but nothing felt like it was giving.
"Bloody hell," He gasped, dropping the chains, his burning fingers trembling as he tried to arrange them into a fist.
"I'll try again," Jade said immediately, her gaze thick with concern.
"No, just give me a mo'," Spike disagreed, grunting as he tried to move his burned hand again.
"Spike, hold me up and I'll try it again."
"I'll get the bloody thing," He snapped back, her eyes large and sorrowful. Damnit, he didn't want to see her in anymore pain than she was, and this was his bloody prerogative. He'd protect her. Couldn't protect her from herself, bloody hell, but he could keep her from burning her hands off on a chain.
"I can try to break it with my foot," She said in a murmur, and it broke through the haze of pain in his head to remind him that yeah, probably was their best bet. "Hold me?" And she meant it so casually and innocently, and how could he resist that request, especially not now, so he took his arm and wrapped it around her again, his elbow bent at her waist and his hand reached all the way around to her belly button as he hoisted her up. She grunted and pushed up, aiming for the chains like he had, but her mark was off, and the chains bounced back, unscathed. She muttered, "Come on," under her breath, frustrated as she shifted her legs up, pressing them flat to the door, and it was only Spike's arm that would keep her from falling.
Her feet were clumsier than her hands, but the boots kept them from burning as she slid one foot under the chain to prop it up and slammed her other foot down on top of it, creating leverage so she could snap it through. There was a grinding sound, but the chains didn't break, and Jade's dress slipped further and further down her thigh, which would have been quite a lot of skin if it wasn't for the black tights she was wearing—something Spike was quite grateful for, because the last thing he needed right now was a bloody distraction.
"Come on," Jade snapped again, exasperated. "Break, damn it." She stomped her foot down in a loud thump, and there was a crack, but the chain still held strong. More things had slid down into the belly of the building, gravity and angles pulling everything down, and he watched another bookcase teeter and fall. Building was reaching its sodding boiling point, and if they couldn't—she stomped down hard again, and the momentum caused him to lose his grip on the door, and he swore at the pain in his wrist as he tried to keep them up, Jade's feet losing contact with the door as the two of them swung. He was keeping the two of them upright by his elbow, 'cause his feet had lost contact with the floor, and he stretched to try to get his tippy toes to reach it again and steady the two of them. He felt Jade's cheek thud into his shoulder.
"I think I broke it," Jade murmured. "Just a little more—" the building groaned out, loudly and vehemently, and his feet slipped again as the floor beneath them shuddered, and bollocks, if they weren't going to get crushed in here—
And then there was a thud on the door again, but this time it wasn't from Jade. The two of them looked at each other, bewildered and worried as the door screeched open, pulled by force, and instinctively, Spike clutched Jade closer to him, to protect her, and on the opening door revealed Illyria, Faith and Angel. Faith and Illyria were on each side of the doors, a key jutted into the padlock on their side, because of bloody course they had to lock both sides of the door to make things really difficult, but now Illyria reached down and pulled at Spike and Jade's padlock, looking a bit surprised and pleased with herself when it broke apart easily enough.
"Hey kids," Faith said, in a voice that was a bit higher-pitched than normal. Her broken arm was held to her chest, and her dark eyes were focused on Jade. "It looks like you might need a hand, so we came to save you. You're welcome."
"Right-o," Spike said, his tone hoarse. Angel's dark eyes stared back at him, impassive and it left Spike wondering just how far he could trust these three. They'd just lost Charlie Boy, after all. But they didn't have much of a choice, Jade still wrapped in his one good arm, and his other crying out for bloody mercy each time they swung. Just play it casual, then, and take it minute by minute. "Help a bloke up, then."