Repercussions, Part 13





"I think I screwed it up for good." Buffy picked up the phone and dialed his number again. No answer. "Should I leave another desperate message?" she asked, her hand over the mouthpiece.

A collective "NO!" was heard from her ladies in waiting. She gently replaced the phone in its cradle, and then her shoulders began to shake.

"Buffy, please don't cry," said Dawn, putting her arm around her sister. She walked her over to the sofa and sat her down.

"Yeah, Buff. You know what a temper he has. That hasn't changed. He just needs some time to calm down. Then you'll be able to talk to him, explain how you feel. You'll be all with the smoochies in no time!"

Buffy shook her head and rubbed her arms to warm them. "I have a really bad feeling about this. You didn't see him. He was so angry. And, there's something else going on. The chip, it went off. When we were sparring."

Willow looked at Buffy in confusion. "The chip works on you again?"

She nodded. "Something's not right. I can feel it. What if something happens to him? What if I never get the chance to say I'm sorry, to tell him how I feel?"

"Buffy, come on. Spike is so whipped on you, I bet he'll be coming in the door any minute," Dawn kidded her.

As if on cue, the front door was thrown open and Xander stumbled in, an unconscious Spike thrown over his shoulder.

"Xander! What did you do to him?"

"Well," said Xander breathlessly, "What I did to him, is carry his literally dead weight all the way from the cemetery. You're welcome." He placed Spike rather carefully on the sofa, and as the girls fluttered around Spike, Xander rolled his shoulders, placing his hand on his lower back. "He's a lot heavier than he looks."

"Xander!" yelled the slayer, the key, and the witch on hiatus.

"O.K., O.K., give me a minute." He ran both his hands through his hair, and for the first time they noticed that he was not just exhausted from hauling Spike several blocks, but he was quite shaken up as well. Not to mention, bleeding. From the neck.

"Xander," said Buffy, standing and touching his neck gently, "you've been bitten." She turned to Dawn. "Get some antiseptic and some bandages." Dawn hurried toward the bathroom.

Xander gently removed Buffy's hand from his neck. "Buffy, I'm fine, she barely got her fangs in me. And I'm sorry." He glanced at Spike. "I think this is sorta my fault."

Once Xander had sat down and allowed Dawn to play nurse, he turned his attention to Buffy and Willow, who were sitting near Spike on the sofa. "Buffy, the chip's gone wonky."

"I knew it. What happened?"

"He was pretty upset, after he left the Magic Box. I ran into him, and we decided to patrol. We came upon this group of vamps, 5 or 6 of them, I guess. Spike staked the first one, and he was all 'arghh' with the chip. As soon as the rest of them saw he was hurt, they went for me." He touched his neck gingerly, and winced. "One of them held me while the girl vamp sunk her teeth into me. They got my weapons, of course. Then the others went for Spike. He got up, and started dusting them left and right. The chip, Buffy, it was going off the whole time." Xander shook his head. "I finally got the last one, the girl, off of me, and dusted her. Spike was unconscious by that time."

Buffy stared at Spike, lying prone on the sofa. Even unconscious, his brow was creased in pain. She swiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand as Spike began to stir. He opened his eyes to find three pairs staring down into his.

"Am I dead?" he asked. Buffy fought the urge to hit him.

"I'm afraid so," smiled Willow. He sat up slowly, swinging his legs around to the floor, and groaned. Willow sat beside him, with Dawn on the floor, while Buffy moved to the coffee table in front of him.

He leaned against Willow. She put her arms around him and petted his head.

"It'll be o.k., Will," she whispered. Buffy watched this display with a considerable amount of envy.

Suddenly, Spike's head shot up. "Harris?" he said with alarm.

"Right here, pal," Xander said with a wave, leaning around Buffy, who was blocking Spike's view.

"You saved his life," said Buffy, "and then he brought you back here."

Spike stared at Buffy for a moment. Then he shifted his gaze to Xander. "I guess we're square then?"

"Hardly," Xander replied. The two men shared a smile. Buffy stood up and stalked into the kitchen.

Dawn followed. "What is your problem?"

"I find out that those two are buddies, now? After I worried about how Xander would react to me and Spike, I find out they're hanging out?" She whispered furiously.

"O.K.," said Dawn, crossing her arms in front of her, "let me get this straight. You're mad because Xander and Spike are finally getting along, because it gives you no excuse for acting like a jerk?"

Buffy retreated a step. "Dawn! How can you talk to me like that?"

"Look, all I know is, the guy you claim to love is in the living room in serious trouble, and you're in the kitchen sulking like a spoiled brat. A subject I should know a lot about, or so I've been told." She turned on her heel and walked out.

Buffy leaned against the counter, trying to compose herself. There wasn't much time for that, what with the screams of "Bloody Hell!" and all. She ran back into the living room to find Spike clutching his head again, Willow trying to comfort him.

"What happened?" Buffy looked from Willow to Dawn to Xander.

"Nothing," said Willow. Her eyes met Buffy's, and she saw something very much like dread in them. "He was just sitting here, and it went off."

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If there was one thing Buffy Summers was good at, it was managing a crisis. She felt in control, in her element. She had Xander call Anya and explain the situation; Anya would then teleport over to Giles and see if he had any ideas. Willow got on her trusty laptop to see if there were any sort of cosmic disturbances in the area that might be interfering with the operation of the chip. Dawn was given the task of keeping everyone fed and watered. Once everyone had their assignments, Buffy stood in the middle of the room, at loose ends. If she only had something to slay. Her eyes were drawn to Spike, who was leaning back against the sofa with his eyes closed. She could tell he was awake, though; every muscle in body was tensed, anticipating the next wave of pain.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked. She sat down as gently as she could, trying not to disturb him.

"Don't think I'm up to that, pet." He didn't move, or open his eyes.

"I just want to help you," she said, "please let me." Her voice broke on the last word, and he opened his eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said, "about everything."

He managed a small smile. "I know."

"I'm afraid this is happening because I kicked you so hard that night."

"No, slayer," he sighed, "the damn thing had been bothering me before that. Since shortly after I came back to Sunnyhell, matter of fact. Nothing like this, though." He groaned and closed his eyes again. "Pain doesn't go away."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. Everything else seemed to be goin' so well, considerin'. Should've known better. I don't have that kinda luck. Of course, then there's that other thing."

"What's that."

"There's not a bloody thing can be done about it."

A chill went through her. She put her hand on his forehead, and brushed the hair back from his head. "We're going to fix this," she whispered. The lines on his forehead began to smooth out, and she thought he was going to drift off. Then, he was clutching his head in pain again.

"Willow!" she called. Willow was already on her way into the room. Once again, Spike turned to her instead of Buffy. Stung, Buffy stood up and began pacing the room. "Willow, I need you to do something for me. For Spike."

"Anything. What is it?"

"I need you to find Riley."

TBC