Title: Tainted Blood
Author: Corri
Email: Corrielle@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to "Normal Again"
Summary: Set directly following the events of "Normal Again." Spike is sick, and when the gang finally figures out that only Buffy can save him, she has to decide how valuable Spike is to her.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and UPN.
Feedback: Please!
Author's note: This is my first actually FINISHED Buffy Fanfic. It's more of a Buffy/Spike
friendship piece than an actual romance
Chapter 6
Twenty paces by fifteen paces. Those were the dimensions of Spike's underground home. No matter how Buffy tried to space them out, adjust her stride, they always came out the same. Twenty by fifteen.
She had long since given up trying to find some other way of amusing herself. Spike's personal library seemed to consist of a lot of poetry, some trashy romance novels, and a couple of volumes that looked so old she was afraid to touch them for fear they would fall apart. None of it looked like it would take her mind off of what she was doing. She wasn't even sure she knew exactly what she was doing. Standing watch over a former enemy, and more recently, a former lover. A comrade in battle, one who had been willing to die for her and those she loved. It's the least he deserves, she finally decided, and left her own reasons for staying to be puzzled over another time.
Buffy took a deep breath and forced herself to sit down and stop pacing. The slight noise she made positioning herself in the chair next to Spike's bed was enough to wake the sickly vampire, and he struggled into an upright position. Buffy put a hand on his shoulder, and with little effort, pushed him back down onto the bed.
"Lie down, Spike," she said gently. He shook his head, confused, and Buffy realized that his mind was not with her any more. Wherever he thought it was, it wasn't the present.
"I have to find her," he whispered. "Let me go!"
"Sorry, no can do," Buffy replied. Spike struggled weakly against her for a second, then fell back onto the bed and glared incoherently at her. "Who are you looking for?" she asked. If she could get him to talk to her, to explain where he thought he was, she just might be able to reason with him, which would be a whole lot easier than physically restraining him.
"Drusilla... she left me. I have to find her... make things right." Buffy cringed at the sincerity in his voice.
"You won't find her," she said. "She's probably a thousand miles away right now."
"I don't care. Let me go... got to find her. My princess," a hoarse sob escaped from his throat. "Don't you see? I'm nothing without her... nothing." He tried again to get up, and succeeded in swinging his legs over the side of the bed before Buffy forcefully re-arranged his position.
"If you want the truth, I like you a lot better without her than I did with her," she muttered, fervently hoping that he wasn't going to remember any of this when he got better. If he got better.
"Got to prove to her... I can be the man she needs," Spike told her, wild hopefulness burning in his eyes.
"And I think you would, but you've got to sleep," Buffy said. Her two strong hands, placed on his shoulders, kept him from getting up again. He sank back into the nest of pillows and blankets that Tara and Dawn had arranged for him.
"If she comes, tell her that for me," he pleaded.
"I will. Don't worry." Buffy passed her hand over his eyes, gently closing them, and this time, they stayed closed.
...........................
The slayer sat perfectly still, trying to concentrate as Giles had taught her to do, trying to find her center, a place of peace and calm within herself. If she hadn't been concentrating so hard, she might have been struck by the irony that Spike, of all people, was giving her a chance to practice her meditation technique.
A restless moan from Spike made her lose her inner balance, and she started and opened her eyes.
"Where in the bloody hell am I?" he asked. His voice was stronger now, less confused.
"You're in your crypt, silly," she answered, looking at him hopefully for some sign of recognition. She found none.
"I don't have a crypt of my own, you stupid bint. Now, if you wouldn't mind giving me my clothes back, I've got to go find a friend of mine. Maybe you've heard of him. Name's Angelus. I'm late, see, and he hates it when I make him late." A touch of fear had crept into his voice, and Buffy shuddered to imagine how bad Angelus must have been to make William the Bloody fearful.
"Angelus is gone, Spike," Buffy told him. This was not the right thing to tell him.
A couple of hours of rest had momentarily restored some of his strength, and he was halfway across the room before Buffy caught him.
"Idiot girl! Get off of me!" he yelled at her. "Do you have any idea what he's going to do to me?"
"Some."
"You've met him, then?" he asked, flippantly curious.
"We've crossed... paths," Buffy said, choosing her words carefully.
"Then you know he's even crueler when he's angry. Let. Me. Go," he growled at her from between clenched teeth.
"You wouldn't even make it up the ladder to the surface," she shot back angrily. Spike seemed to sense his own weakness, and stopped struggling and let her help him back into bed.
"There's going to be hell to pay when he finds me," he told her. It was a fatalistic statement of fact, not a request for pity or a plea for help. Buffy opened her mouth, but found no words there. "You'd better get out of here, then," he said finally.
"No. I'll stay. I won't let..." her voice caught in her throat. "I won't let anyone hurt you."
"Tiny thing like you against Angelus? You wouldn't last two seconds, I'd wager." He was fading out on her again, and she wasn't sure if he was awake to hear her reply,
"You might be surprised."
.........................................
The slightly lopsided alarm clock on Spike's bookshelf gave the time as a little before four when he stirred again. Buffy, who had drifted off to sleep in the chair beside him, stretched, catlike, and put a hand on his forehead. He was still burning up, and she thought he was even warmer now than before. She reached for the cool washcloth Dawn had been using and wiped his face and neck.
"Feels... good," he whispered. He kicked off the covers and groaned. "Why am I awake..."
"Try and go back to sleep," she suggested. He blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes to focus, and shook his head.
"You were sleeping too... whoever you are." Buffy bit her lip and tried not to feel oddly sad that he didn't know her. "Were you dreaming too?" he asked.
"Nope. I guess I was so tired I just blacked out..."
"I was," he said, interrupting her. "I was dreaming about the slayer. Saved her... again." Feeling uncomfortable, Buffy tried to shush him. Hearing him babble about his inner thoughts was too much like reading a private diary. She didn't want to know this much about him. However, he would not be quieted.
"The tower... the one she jumped from... it was falling. Grabbed Buffy with one arm, and the Niblet with the other, and jumped. Broke their fall, I did... Hurt like hell." A slow, peaceful smile spread across his face. "You know what happened then?"
"No. What?" she asked. She knew she was going to be told whether she wanted to or not.
"She just... let me hold her. Thanked me... for saving her, you know? And all her friends gathered 'round. Didn't care that I was holding her, either. The watcher... he looked proud. Of me. Said I did a real good job. Red and Tara... stood there smiling. The Niblet... she got excited like she always does. Hugged me and Buffy both. Even Xander had to admit I'd done something right for a change. Even shook my hand. And you know... you know what was nice?" Buffy simply waited. "They were happy I was around. Just that once. It was bloody wonderful."
"Sounds like a nice place," she finally managed to say. "A lot nicer than here."
"Heh. Yeah," Spike muttered.
"Try to sleep again... get back to there," she encouraged him.
"Back where she loves me."
He had been sleeping for several minutes when the tears came to Buffy's eyes. She cried for Spike, for his pain, his loneliness, the love he craved that she couldn't bring herself to give, and the acceptance he maybe, just maybe deserved, that she and her friends hadn't let him have.
