Title: A Passing Shadow: Book I: Deep Down Dark: Chapter 3
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimer, etc: See previous chapters.
"Let's see if I've got this straight. You don't want me to hunt her down and stake her because it wasn't her fault? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah. That's what I'm sayin'." His face was turned away from me. He had refused to fully face anyone since he'd awakened late that afternoon. He was turned to the window. I don't know if he realized that the drapes were closed.
"She scratched your eyes out and chewed on you like a rabid dog. How is that not her fault?" The conversation was surreal.
"Just leave it, Slayer. Let it go."
"I don't think so, Spike. And I think it's disgusting that you still want to protect her. Gross and pathetic." Wow. That sounded way nastier than I intended it. And I made him flinch. Good girl, Buff. Why stop at insults? Why not go ahead and slap the blind vamp around a little?
I took a very deep breath and pulled a chair up next to the sofa. I was thinking that maybe if I got closer, made some contact, he'd open up a little, explain himself. Works with Dawn. Sometimes.
Wasn't gonna work with Spike. He turned further away, pressing his body into the back of the sofa. I almost gave up. I took a final shot and touched his arm.
"Spike, explain it. Make me understand."
The muscle in his jaw twitched. I moved my hand away and it stopped. OK, touching him was out. I didn't know where to go from there. I was about to stand up and walk away when he started talking.
"Not her fault-my fault. The whole bleedin' lot of it. From the first time I brought her here, I knew this was a bad place for her. Shoulda turned right 'round an' left again, but I thought..." He started pounding on his thigh with his fist, too close to where he'd been hurt, which made him twist up in pain, which made the blanket slip off.
I'd forgotten he was naked under there. I pulled the blanket up around his hips and then I patted his thigh where he had punched it. I did it before I thought about it. When I think about it now, I'm pretty sure I meant it in a comforting way.
He froze when I did it. I know he couldn't have been turned on. No way, not with all the pain he was in and besides, he hadn't healed enough. Not that there was anything actually missing. I mean, from what I could see when I looked. Which I only did for, like, a second.
"Ancient history, Spike. And it still doesn't explain why it's your fault that she mutilated you like this."
"I provoked her."
"How?"
He sighed a snarly little sigh. "You're not gonna bloody let up, are you?"
"I'm going to dust her if you don't give me a good reason not to."
He reached up like he was going to run his hand over his face. When his fingers touched the bandages, he jumped and hissed, as if he'd been burnt.
"Fine. You wanna hear it so bad? It went like this, you bossy bitch. Dru pops up in my crypt just after sundown...last night?" He sounded unsure. "What day is it? Never mind. Anyway, she's all 'Hello, lover. Just got into town. Fancy a shag?' "
"You didn't. Tell me you didn't." I was revolted.
"No." He paused. Then: "Not straight away. But she was persistent. Crawlin' all over me. Sayin' she loved me. NOT sayin' I was disgustin'."
Ouch.
"So I let her. An' she was...she likes to...bloody hell, you've seen where the wounds are. Do the soddin' math."
Oh. That.
"But that still doesn't explain-"
He turned on me with a growl. "I said the wrong thing at the wrong time, Slayer."
"Huh?"
"The wrong name. I said the wrong name."
I still wasn't following.
"Oh, for pity's sake, Buffy, do I have to draw you a bleedin' diagram? At the critical moment-at the apex of the experience, so to speak-when there should have been nothin' in my soddin' brain but my dark princess and no name on my tongue but Drusilla's, I made the shameful and unforgivable mistake of callin' out yours. Now, do you get it, or must I use crude language?"
Gulp. Understanding dawned all rosy and bright and I was really glad he couldn't see my face.
"Oh. And she...?"
"Didn't take it well. Last thing I remember was kickin' like a mule to get her off me. She must have clocked me a right good one before she..." He gestured toward his face.
I was quiet for a few seconds. Then I said, "But that's still no reason to say it's your fault. She's out of control, Spike. I gotta take her out. You know it."
He didn't answer, just twisted up his hands in the blanket.
"Are my fags about, Slayer?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. They're around here somewhere." I found the duffel next to the sofa and fished them out. I thought about telling him that since I didn't allow smoking in the house, this would be a good time to quit. But I didn't.
I handed him the cigarettes and lighter. I was going to offer to help him, but he lit up without a fumble and took a deep drag. Then his head dropped back and he just lay there.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"You understand why I have to do this?"
He shrugged and took another drag. "Can't bloody well stop you, can I? Can only ask nicely." He turned his face toward me. I stared at where his eyes used to be. "Don't kill her on account of me. Please." His voice sounded dead in my ears.
I thought about it for a few minutes. When I answered him, I knew it was wrong and against everything I was supposed to be about. The Chosen One and all that crap.
"I won't track her. If she's smart enough to stay out of my way..." I let it hang in the air.
He nodded.
I stood up to leave the room.
"Slayer?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet, Spike. I really don't think she's that smart. Do you?"
He didn't answer. I left him alone, then. I had some stuff to think about.
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimer, etc: See previous chapters.
"Let's see if I've got this straight. You don't want me to hunt her down and stake her because it wasn't her fault? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah. That's what I'm sayin'." His face was turned away from me. He had refused to fully face anyone since he'd awakened late that afternoon. He was turned to the window. I don't know if he realized that the drapes were closed.
"She scratched your eyes out and chewed on you like a rabid dog. How is that not her fault?" The conversation was surreal.
"Just leave it, Slayer. Let it go."
"I don't think so, Spike. And I think it's disgusting that you still want to protect her. Gross and pathetic." Wow. That sounded way nastier than I intended it. And I made him flinch. Good girl, Buff. Why stop at insults? Why not go ahead and slap the blind vamp around a little?
I took a very deep breath and pulled a chair up next to the sofa. I was thinking that maybe if I got closer, made some contact, he'd open up a little, explain himself. Works with Dawn. Sometimes.
Wasn't gonna work with Spike. He turned further away, pressing his body into the back of the sofa. I almost gave up. I took a final shot and touched his arm.
"Spike, explain it. Make me understand."
The muscle in his jaw twitched. I moved my hand away and it stopped. OK, touching him was out. I didn't know where to go from there. I was about to stand up and walk away when he started talking.
"Not her fault-my fault. The whole bleedin' lot of it. From the first time I brought her here, I knew this was a bad place for her. Shoulda turned right 'round an' left again, but I thought..." He started pounding on his thigh with his fist, too close to where he'd been hurt, which made him twist up in pain, which made the blanket slip off.
I'd forgotten he was naked under there. I pulled the blanket up around his hips and then I patted his thigh where he had punched it. I did it before I thought about it. When I think about it now, I'm pretty sure I meant it in a comforting way.
He froze when I did it. I know he couldn't have been turned on. No way, not with all the pain he was in and besides, he hadn't healed enough. Not that there was anything actually missing. I mean, from what I could see when I looked. Which I only did for, like, a second.
"Ancient history, Spike. And it still doesn't explain why it's your fault that she mutilated you like this."
"I provoked her."
"How?"
He sighed a snarly little sigh. "You're not gonna bloody let up, are you?"
"I'm going to dust her if you don't give me a good reason not to."
He reached up like he was going to run his hand over his face. When his fingers touched the bandages, he jumped and hissed, as if he'd been burnt.
"Fine. You wanna hear it so bad? It went like this, you bossy bitch. Dru pops up in my crypt just after sundown...last night?" He sounded unsure. "What day is it? Never mind. Anyway, she's all 'Hello, lover. Just got into town. Fancy a shag?' "
"You didn't. Tell me you didn't." I was revolted.
"No." He paused. Then: "Not straight away. But she was persistent. Crawlin' all over me. Sayin' she loved me. NOT sayin' I was disgustin'."
Ouch.
"So I let her. An' she was...she likes to...bloody hell, you've seen where the wounds are. Do the soddin' math."
Oh. That.
"But that still doesn't explain-"
He turned on me with a growl. "I said the wrong thing at the wrong time, Slayer."
"Huh?"
"The wrong name. I said the wrong name."
I still wasn't following.
"Oh, for pity's sake, Buffy, do I have to draw you a bleedin' diagram? At the critical moment-at the apex of the experience, so to speak-when there should have been nothin' in my soddin' brain but my dark princess and no name on my tongue but Drusilla's, I made the shameful and unforgivable mistake of callin' out yours. Now, do you get it, or must I use crude language?"
Gulp. Understanding dawned all rosy and bright and I was really glad he couldn't see my face.
"Oh. And she...?"
"Didn't take it well. Last thing I remember was kickin' like a mule to get her off me. She must have clocked me a right good one before she..." He gestured toward his face.
I was quiet for a few seconds. Then I said, "But that's still no reason to say it's your fault. She's out of control, Spike. I gotta take her out. You know it."
He didn't answer, just twisted up his hands in the blanket.
"Are my fags about, Slayer?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. They're around here somewhere." I found the duffel next to the sofa and fished them out. I thought about telling him that since I didn't allow smoking in the house, this would be a good time to quit. But I didn't.
I handed him the cigarettes and lighter. I was going to offer to help him, but he lit up without a fumble and took a deep drag. Then his head dropped back and he just lay there.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"You understand why I have to do this?"
He shrugged and took another drag. "Can't bloody well stop you, can I? Can only ask nicely." He turned his face toward me. I stared at where his eyes used to be. "Don't kill her on account of me. Please." His voice sounded dead in my ears.
I thought about it for a few minutes. When I answered him, I knew it was wrong and against everything I was supposed to be about. The Chosen One and all that crap.
"I won't track her. If she's smart enough to stay out of my way..." I let it hang in the air.
He nodded.
I stood up to leave the room.
"Slayer?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet, Spike. I really don't think she's that smart. Do you?"
He didn't answer. I left him alone, then. I had some stuff to think about.