TITLE:
Darkest Before Dawn #19 "Restrained"
AUTHOR:
Nmissi
PART:19/?
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it's going.
Feedback:
Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
His head ached, and his back hurt.
There was several thousand dollars worth of property damage to answer for as
well; the antique armoire would hereafter have a Spike-shaped dent in its left
door, and the nightstand had splintered under its use as a shield.
It was also
possible he'd dislocated his jaw in the scuffle, thought Angel, probing his
chin with bloody fingers.
Spike had left an hour ago. No more words had been
spoken, no more punches had been thrown. He'd simply gotten up off of the floor
and left. No goodbyes.
William never said goodbye.
Angel's mind worked and reworked the conundrum of his
boy's newfound Humanity, as he righted the room. How had it happened? Why had
it happened?
Did it mean Shanshu would not be for Angel, then?
He made up the bed, and carried the broken furniture
downstairs to leave by the back door. When it was full dark, he'd remove the
junk to the dumpster, but for now it would wait by the rear entrance to the
hotel, out of the way.
Cordy would be along soon; she was coming in late
after sitting up with Gunn last night. He was a bad patient; she'd bitched to
Angel on the phone late in the evening that he was refusing the proffered diet
of sherbet and soft drinks, and instead bullying her to go get McDonald's.
So it would be just the three of them today; and
maybe until Gunn's injury healed up.
He thought of Gunn stuck at home, eating orange
sherbet and unable to speak.
" Maybe I ought to send over a care package or
something."
He made a mental note to call up the video place and
see what they could deliver later.
As he was coming back through the building he noticed
the blood on the floor by the steps. Apparently Spike had stepped in it upstairs, and tracked it down here. There
was a half- footprint on the tile. Just the toes, and the foresection of the
foot; the heel was absent. On the stairs themselves were more complete marks,
left as he'd come down.
Angel sighed. This was familiar. Spike was gone, and
he was picking up broken bits, and cleaning up blood.
It was comforting to know humanity hadn't altered him
much.
He got dish soap from the kitchen, and using a small
trashcan for a bucket he headed over to clean up the mess.
Spike's blood.
Drusilla's blood.
His blood.
Darla's.
Angel scrubbed up the last remaining traces of his
family with warm soapy water. The scent of the stain was homey and familiar;
whatever magic had Undone William, it had left his sire's blood in his veins.
But the blood now pumped through a living human
heart.
As Angel scrubbed, quiet tears fell unchecked onto
the floor.
Blood and tears alike, he eradicated all traces of
them both.
Buffy found Dawn cowering in the men's room. She
reached for her.
"It's okay, Dawn. It's going to be fine."
The girl pulled free of her.
"No, it's not! Don't lie to me, don't try to make me
feel better. It's never going to be fine again. That thing, that thing won't
stop until it gets me. And you can't stop her, and Ben can't stop her. All she
needs is a few people to brainsuck and she'll be back in business."
Dawn slumped against the wall, and cried.
Buffy didn't know what to do for her. She was right;
Glory was too strong. Buffy had no idea how to defeat something like that.
Right now, she was out there somewhere, leading some
poor soul into a lifetime of institutionalization.
And Buffy didn't care.
It shocked her to the core.
All those helpless people, potential Glory victims;
but all Buffy Summers was interested in was getting her little sister the hell
out of Dodge.
Screw it. She'd have a morality crisis later, when
she had more time.
She dragged Dawn up off the ground.
"Come On. We have to go."
Together they slunk out into the
hall, and Buffy saw Giles up ahead of her.
"Giles!" She hissed.
Wonder of wonders, he heard her, and
backtracked.
"Dawn. Thank God you found her."
Quickly he removed his coat, and
tossed it around the girl's shoulders, covering the green hospital gown.
"I'm parked by the side entrance-
Pulmonary Rehab wing. Come On, I think we can get there without being noticed."
Buffy hurried them into an elevator,
and sighed gratefully when no one else got on before the door closed.
In the parking lot they hurried
toward the long, black, de Soto.
Dawn took in the obvious;
"Where's Spike, Buffy?"
She shoved her sister into the
backseat, while Giles climbed into the passenger seat, kicking bottles out of
his way.
As Buffy started the car, she asked
her again.
"Buffy?"
The Slayer exhaled a long, deep
breath.
"I don't really know, Dawn. He was
gone when I got up."
Something beeped in the backseat,
and Dawn rooted around under plastic bags and more bottles until she came up
with Buffy's purse.
Damn it. Why wasn't she answering?
Spike shifted uncomfortably,
dragging his foot across the floor. The paper shoe made a scratchy hiss as he
did it. The man standing behind him waited, his foot tapping impatiently.
Spike gave him a sheepish smile.
"She's not answering yet. Probably
can't remember where she left the bloody phone. You know women."
Then it clicked on the other end.
"Hello?"
That wasn't Buffy, that was-
"Nibblet! You're awake!"
"Who is it, Dawn?" asked Giles.
In the backseat Dawn put a hand over
her other ear in order to better hear the caller. Outside the windows, the
world flew past as Buffy did seventy and Giles gripped the door and dash.
"Yeah, it's me. Yeah, I'm good.
Fine, actually. Ben fixed me, fixed it so I can walk and stuff. Yeah? Okay. Um
Hmm. Yep he's here. Okay."
She handed the phone over the seat
to Giles.
"He wants to talk to you."
Giles took the phone apprehensively,
and brought it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Don't hang up."
Spike thought it best to get that
out of the way first. Just in case the Watcher was more in the loop than he'd
thought. As this was the only call he'd get to make- He'd better make it count.
On the other end of the line, he
heard the slow intake of breath, and could envision the Watcher carefully
selecting his words.
"All right. I won't hang up. Where
are you?"
The blonde rumpled his hair with his
free hand, swallowing whatever shreds of dignity he had left.
"well, now, I was getting to that
part. But before I tell you, you've got to promise you won't say anything to
the Slayer."
If annoyance had any particular
resonance or frequency, Spike knew he'd have an earful of it by now. He waited.
"You know I can't do that."
In the background he heard her
voice, asking who was on the phone.
"It's no threat to anyone's safety
old man. The only thing threatened right now is my self-esteem."
"Where ARE you?" the older man asked
again. His tone said that he was rapidly losing patience.
Spike sighed and wished for a
cigarette.
Buffy watched Giles trace his
fingers across his furrowed forehead. He sighed, and the look on his face told
her who was on the phone.
"Is that Spike?"
He nodded and she stuck her hand
out.
"Give me the phone."
He didn't, so she reached out with
her right hand and snatched it from him. She could always apologize later.
The phone to her ear, she attempted
to drive and talk at the same time.
"Spike? Is that you? Where are you?"
In the County lockup, at the
payphone, the guard glowered while Spike gave up and accepted humiliation.
It wasn't like she was NOT going to
find out anyway. Nosy bitch always knew his business.
He adopted a sweet tone,
conciliatory, placating.
"Yeah, it's me, love. Listen, Can
you do me a favor? Can you get your hot little hands on two hundred dollars in
cash before four o'clock?"
"Spike, what's going on? Where are
you?"
He noted with no small amount of
pleasure that the annoyance in her voice had an undertone of worry. He smiled
at the portly guard, and gave him thumbs up as he addressed Buffy.
"I'm in Jail, baby. Can you lot come
bail me out?"
He thought for a moment, and added.
" And maybe swing by the apartment
and get me my boots?"