New Horizons: Chapter Fifteen
By Annie
05-04-2002
The piece of paper in his hand was wrinkly and looked positively a thousand years old, and as though it could fall apart at any second.
He held it in a careful grip as he looked at the directions to the sorcerer who Tara reluctantly had said would be able to help him find Anya.
"Are you sure about this?" Tara had asked him before handing him the paper slip, when he had nodded she had reached it towards him with a hand slightly trembling and he had taken it from her before pulling her close.
"Don't worry, Tara, I'll be fine," he had said and she had hugged him back, hard.
"I know Willow would never forgive me for this if you don't come back," Tara had whispered. "And I wouldn't forgive myself, either," she had added and he had smiled as they pulled away.
"Why is it that everybody seem so concerned about me ever returning? OF COURSE I'll come back, and I'm determined to have Anya by my side when I do so."
She had smiled through the tears filling her eyes and he had nodded his good-bye, or rather see-you-later, and then quickly left.
Now he had been walking for almost an hour and he was getting tired. He was on the brink of starting to agree with the others, this probably wasn't such a good idea. He couldn't even find a lousy sorcerer! Then he felt a small wave of heat at his ankles and he looked down, a little startled and with pictures from the countless alien related movies he had seen flashing before his eyes, but there was nothing but his sneakers and the asphalt underneath them.
"You would think that I'd have something other than ALIENS in my head at a time like this, seeing what I spend most of my time surrounded with," he said to himself, trying to listen to his voice and stay calm as he looked up and started turning his head around to keep lookout for anything suspicious. "Okay, Harris, this is a piece of cake, and you've chewed it a lot of times before. Just have to remember the trick to staying alive." He took a step forward, his brow furrowing and then he stopped, his eyes widening as he exclaimed: "Oh my God! I can't remember the trick to staying alive!"
His voice dully echoed back at him between the walls of the buildings on both his sides and he realized how quiet it was. Everything was absolutely still, not a gust of wind, not another heartbeat in sight.
"Okay," he now said to himself, lowering his voice and unintentionally crouching down a little. "The trick must be to stay calm. Must be to keep cool and to.never.ever."
"Are you looking for ME?" a dark voice asked behind his back and he screeched, his heart immediately starting to run away from whatever creature was behind him and he was about to do the same, only he couldn't move.
".panic," he finished his sentence and turned very slowly around to face whatever beast was about to devour him.
***
The demon was hungry. The demon woke him up. The demon made him get out of bed and down into the kitchen to grab some pig's blood. The demon growled at him, but he only shrugged at it. He poured himself a full mug, sighing to himself.
The still clear picture of Buffy from earlier, half asleep and slightly smiling at something he could never touch in her was almost too much for him.
Most of him hated the weakness and the longing and the needing that the feeling inside of him provoked. He wanted to get it out of him, tear it out and kill it with his bare hands. But he had tried, and he had failed, and all he could do was quietly suffer.
"But I'm a bloody vampire," he mumbled, feeling the bitterness turn into anger with himself. "I'm a being who doesn't care about anything, who shouldn't.be able to." he clenched his jaws together and the hand holding the mug closed around it, shattering it and making the blood it contained spill between his fingers and onto the floor as pieces of porcelain cut his flesh and tinkled to the floor as well.
It made him close his eyes, close his eyes to all of it.
"It's all over." he mumbled, repeating what he had realized as the vampire instincts in him had to give way to. He wasn't even sure anymore.
To his humanity, still lingering in a before forgotten corner of him?
To his compassion brought on by a conscience he hadn't heard from in such a strong voice since he was turned?
Or to his love for a mortal, a woman, a human who had changed him with all her glory and spirit, all her damn glow of life that she seemed to have forgotten for a little while?
He felt the blood clutch its sticky body to his hand, and the practically unnoticeable stinging from the cuts he had received, then he realized that the blood wasn't merely pig's blood, but his own. That thought made him snap his eyes open and then he let hear a laugh, a high almost hysterical laugh that he couldn't contain and that stopped as soon as it had traveled up his throat and escaped his mouth.
It had been born by the stupid comparison his mind had just made, pig's blood and HIS blood?
"Same difference," he murmured, looking down at his hand.
"Spike?" her sleepy voice suddenly asked from the doorway.
He looked up, not able to hide how caught he felt.
Caught in something so personal as his thoughts had been, convinced that his vulnerability must show on his face he went into game face and took a step forward.
"Buffy, get OUT!" he yelled at her, raising the hand not covered with blood as a threat.
She blinked at him, surprised over his sudden out burst and recoiling, but only for a moment before taking a step forward again, meeting his gaze with an expression he knew very well and he understood that, no, he couldn't scare her away that easily.
"Be quiet, or you'll wake up Sarah and Jacob. Do you want them to see you like this?" she asked in a low voice and he sighed, turning away from her.
"No," he answered her.
"Then let me see your face," she said quietly and he turned his head to her, wondering what she meant.
She took the few steps forward that were dividing them.
"Then let me see your face," she repeated and even though her voice wasn't soft or gentle, it wasn't loving in any way he thought he heard a trace of kindness in it.
I don't need it, he tried to tell himself, but couldn't, not when the kindness started showing in her eyes.
He looked away from her, shrugging his vampire exterior off and putting on his human face. He didn't want to look at her and so he went up to the puddle of blood and bits of porcelain on the floor, squatting down and starting to pick the latter ones up with his hurt hand, putting them in his clean one.
No, not clean, it had threatened Buffy.
He pushed the thought away, getting more and more annoyed and wanting to give into his darker side, wanting to go hunting like in the old days when that was all that mattered. The passion of the kill being all the passion he needed.
And then she was suddenly beside him, on her knees, gently pushing her hair behind one ear before starting to help him, and now he found himself unable to do anything BUT look at her. The moonlight was shining in through the windows in the wall to his right and there she was and she was more brilliant than the cold glow of it could ever be.
She filled her hand with the small pieces before rising to her feet and going over to the trash bin to throw them away. He followed her with eyes that seemed to only be able to see her and the way her body moved underneath the thin fabric of the nightgown, hearing her heart steadily beat in her chest and hearing her lungs fill with every new breath she took.
Then she came back with a piece of cloth, damp with water to better clean up the blood. She worked quickly, and he wanted to sweep that knowledge off of her.
How many times had she had to do it to obtain the skill she now held?
He didn't want to think about it and still he couldn't bring himself to stop her, to take over for her. He stared at her hands moving the rag, sweeping the stain up and away and it was gone.
She went to the sink, then changed her mind and once more went to the trash bin just to throw the whole thing away.
He realized he was standing now, he hadn't noticed straightening himself up, and then she came up to him again.
She looked at him with those green eyes, then frowned a little as she reached for his hand. He couldn't resist giving into the pleasant shivers going through him at her touch.
"Spike, you're."
"Don't speak, love," he heard himself gently whisper and she looked up at him, questioning, and then she seemed to understand because she nodded a little before letting go of him again and he felt abandoned and cold until she finally saved him by coming back.
She gently pushed him to lean against the thick wooden counter standing in the middle of the kitchen before bringing his hand into hers again. She started pulling the pieces embedded in his flesh out, carefully she removed them one by one before reaching for a small flask that she must have gotten. She popped the cork off and put some of the contents on a sterile looking peice of white cloth before starting to clean his wounds with it.
She was silent, for once listening to a request of his.
His eyes didn't leave her face for one second; even though she kept it lowered, her eyes focused on his hand as she carefully cared for it. When she was done she put the cloth on the counter behind him, leaning over ever so slightly to grab the flask and put the cork back on.
No need for bandages, love, you know that. No need for her to stand so close to me either and yet, she is.
She was so near, and still so far away.
Then she took a small step back, raising her face to look into his.
He smiled a little, his eyes thanking her, reaching out to her, touching her, pleading to her.
She smiled back, held his eyes a moment longer and he knew that she didn't need any thank you's and that she couldn't take his hand, want his touch or give in to his plea.
She just couldn't.
And then she turned from him, walking out of the kitchen and back upstairs.
He didn't watch her leave.
***
Buffy woke up to the sound of movement in her room and at once all the sleep was gone and she was fully awake, trying to wait for the best moment to charge the intruder.
Then she heard a low humming of a song she distantly recognized and she sighed, throwing off the covers and sitting up in bed.
"Gina!" she said and the young girl stopped her chores to turn to her.
"Morning, Miss Summers," she said with a small courtesy and a smile. "I trust you slept well?"
"Yeah, sure," Buffy mumbled, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and getting off it. "If you don't count a late-night clean up of the frigging kitchen," she added and Gina, who was making the bed, turned to her with a questioning look. "Never mind," Buffy said, shaking her head at the maid who shrugged and went back to what she was doing.
Buffy went up to the big cupboard that served as a closet and opened the doors, taking out the second dress of hers that she hadn't used yet.
The one yesterday had been almost the same green as the one she had borrowed from Sarah, the one now in her arms was a soft marine blue and she liked the cutting of it, both were made of cotton. Even though she thought the high necks that seemed to be in fashion, the tops of the dresses having no real cleavage what so ever and long sleeves, was a little stiff, she still liked them.
Forty minutes later she walked into the drawing room where Jacob was reading the newspaper.
"Good morning, Jake," she said and he looked up with a smile, liking the nickname she had decided to give him.
"Good morning, my dear," he said cheerfully as she took a seat in the armchair to his right.
"Any interesting reading?" she asked and he sighed.
"Not really. Except for a rather intriguing interview with a man who claims to have been attacked by some kind of a monster or other," he said, bending forward a little to add: "And the most fascinating thing is how he claims to have escaped it."
Buffy leaned forward as well.
"Maybe it has something to do with the Fire thingy," she said and Jacob nodded.
Then he seemed to remember himself and shook his head instead.
"No, I don't think so. It sounds like he was attacked by a vampire, but then I am not sure how liable that is. After all, the cases where victims actually survive are.well, as you are quite aware, I'm sure, very scarce."
Buffy's eyes had widened a little at his words.
"Yes." she said, feeling a thought stir in the back of her head that she couldn't really grasp and it slipped away. "That's.Can I read that article?"
Jacob nodded, quickly turning the pages to get it up for her, then handing it to her.
"Morning," Spike's voice was heard as he entered the room.
Buffy looked up, her eyes wandering to his hand which, of course, had not one mark indicating his little 'accident' the night before. She smiled a little before looking up at him, finding herself still not used to seeing him without his black trench coat and in an attire requiring a tie. Then he returned the smile and walked up to her and Jacob.
"What are you doing?" he asked and stopped on her right hand side to bend down and look at the paper in her hands. "Researching?"
"No," she answered silently, her attention once more fully on the article on the page in front of her. "This man. John Carpenter, says he was attacked by.hm, a fanged demon who switched appearances between human and creature and held the strength of twenty men. Sounds familiar," she added sarcastically with a glance at him and he laughed.
He was so grateful at that moment that she didn't have his ability to detect a change in moods, and even more so that he had left the ability to blush behind him with one bite from Dru, because there it was, the sodding proof of what he had done the day before staring him in the face.
"But listen to this!" Buffy exclaimed, getting to her feet with the paper still in a firm grip she quoted: "'He thought for sure that death had come to claim him, but his prayers were answered as the fiend suddenly drew back.' Yada-yada. '.managed to get to hospital and have his wounds tended to Mr. Carpenter will be fully restored within the next month!'" she exclaimed. "This is just totally weird!" she added as Spike came up to her and grabbed the newspaper.
"Let me see that," he said and started to read through the article. "Bloody hell," he winced when he was done and when he looked up both Buffy and Jacob were staring at him. He threw the paper down on the floor and turned around, walking out through the door he growled: "Can't vampires just stay bleeding vampires anymore?! This is just a bloody SHAME!"
They heard him mumbling to himself as he climbed the stairs and they turned to each other. Then Buffy shrugged, picking up the newspaper and handing it to Jacob.
"He'll get over it," she said and Jacob smiled a little.
"It is rather peculiar to think that he is one of them, isn't it?" he asked and Buffy tried to force a smile, but it didn't quite work and Jacob noticed because he added: "No, I suppose it wouldn't be for you, now would it?"
She wanted to say something more comforting than "no", but couldn't think of anything. Sarah then joined them and the distraction of showing her the article and the discussion that followed was all Buffy needed to take her mind off the subject.
***
He felt like a bloody caged animal and there was nothing he could do about it. He was walking, he didn't want to call it pacing because that was something Buffy had started doing and it ANNOYED him!
Green-eyes was in the bloody PAPERS! What the hell had he been thinking letting him go?
"Dammit!" he exclaimed, trying to focus his mind, get it working on what he should do.
Okay, so the man might not recognize him if they ever would meet, after all he had been rather drunk and then Spike just guessed that green-eye's sight hadn't been all that clear even though he had been sobered up by the time their fight ended.
On the other hand, he would probably remember Spike's face if he could remember the fact that Spike had switched from human face to game face.
Then again they might not even meet; they seemed, after all, to be moving in slightly different circles.
Spike felt like breaking something, preferably his own neck but that was out of the question. He started cursing to himself, looking around the room for any kind of breakable and not valuable possession.
"What are you doing?" Buffy's voice asked and he swirled around to face her.
He straightened his back and shook his head as he said:
"What do you mean?"
She entered with a mug in her hands, putting it down on the desk to the left of the door before approaching him.
Memories of the night before came seeping into his head; her gentleness, the kindness.
Sod it! he thought and turned away from her.
"I won't be able to show my bloody face again." he mumbled as Buffy stopped behind him.
"What?" she asked, and he bit his jaws together hard, now REALLY wanting to break his own neck, then turned around to her.
"Nothing, pet. Just that this bloody vampire is gonna. give all of us a bad name," he answered her and she raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, yeah, like you guys don't really have that already," she said and he tilted his head.
"You know very well what I mean," he said, feeling like he was grasping at straws. "He'll be hunted down and killed faster than you can say 'toothless'," he added, trying to look as cold and distant to the whole thing as possible.
"I know," she said, her eyes not in his but wandering around the room. "And I suppose you wanna be part of that hunt, huh?" she asked as she walked up to the window behind him, looking out.
"Oh, I think I already am," he grumbled, turning to her as she turned back to him. "I mean, we ALL are, already, all us vampires," he hurried to add as he saw the questions in her gaze. "And that's as it should be."
She smiled weakly, nodding.
"Yes, I suppose a vampire refusing to kill is as bad as a human bound TO kill," she said thoughtfully before once again walking past him and up to the low desk jam-packed with letters, papers and notebooks.
"It's nature, pet," he said, pushing down the laughter rising in his throat as he added solemnly: "Ain't nothing you can do to change it."
She smiled a little again as she picked up one of the notebooks.
"Ah, don't touch that," he said and was at her side as she opened the first page, snapping it out of her hands.
She turned to him with a teasing glint in her eyes.
"Why not? Old diaries?" she asked and he glared at her before putting the notebook down on the desk, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her around to usher her to the door.
"No," he answered and opened it for her.
"What then?" she asked, good humor behind her voice. "Poems?" she added, dragging out the word.
He swallowed and at the hesitation she turned around towards him, her eyes widening.
"Poetry?" she asked, sounding as surprised as she looked, but at least there was no hint of mockery.
"Get out," he murmured and gave her a gentle push, making her take a step back before he started closing the door. "And thanks for bringing me my breakfast," he added before he shut it.
Buffy stared at the door, her eyebrows slowly rising.
"Poetry?" she repeated.
By Annie
05-04-2002
The piece of paper in his hand was wrinkly and looked positively a thousand years old, and as though it could fall apart at any second.
He held it in a careful grip as he looked at the directions to the sorcerer who Tara reluctantly had said would be able to help him find Anya.
"Are you sure about this?" Tara had asked him before handing him the paper slip, when he had nodded she had reached it towards him with a hand slightly trembling and he had taken it from her before pulling her close.
"Don't worry, Tara, I'll be fine," he had said and she had hugged him back, hard.
"I know Willow would never forgive me for this if you don't come back," Tara had whispered. "And I wouldn't forgive myself, either," she had added and he had smiled as they pulled away.
"Why is it that everybody seem so concerned about me ever returning? OF COURSE I'll come back, and I'm determined to have Anya by my side when I do so."
She had smiled through the tears filling her eyes and he had nodded his good-bye, or rather see-you-later, and then quickly left.
Now he had been walking for almost an hour and he was getting tired. He was on the brink of starting to agree with the others, this probably wasn't such a good idea. He couldn't even find a lousy sorcerer! Then he felt a small wave of heat at his ankles and he looked down, a little startled and with pictures from the countless alien related movies he had seen flashing before his eyes, but there was nothing but his sneakers and the asphalt underneath them.
"You would think that I'd have something other than ALIENS in my head at a time like this, seeing what I spend most of my time surrounded with," he said to himself, trying to listen to his voice and stay calm as he looked up and started turning his head around to keep lookout for anything suspicious. "Okay, Harris, this is a piece of cake, and you've chewed it a lot of times before. Just have to remember the trick to staying alive." He took a step forward, his brow furrowing and then he stopped, his eyes widening as he exclaimed: "Oh my God! I can't remember the trick to staying alive!"
His voice dully echoed back at him between the walls of the buildings on both his sides and he realized how quiet it was. Everything was absolutely still, not a gust of wind, not another heartbeat in sight.
"Okay," he now said to himself, lowering his voice and unintentionally crouching down a little. "The trick must be to stay calm. Must be to keep cool and to.never.ever."
"Are you looking for ME?" a dark voice asked behind his back and he screeched, his heart immediately starting to run away from whatever creature was behind him and he was about to do the same, only he couldn't move.
".panic," he finished his sentence and turned very slowly around to face whatever beast was about to devour him.
***
The demon was hungry. The demon woke him up. The demon made him get out of bed and down into the kitchen to grab some pig's blood. The demon growled at him, but he only shrugged at it. He poured himself a full mug, sighing to himself.
The still clear picture of Buffy from earlier, half asleep and slightly smiling at something he could never touch in her was almost too much for him.
Most of him hated the weakness and the longing and the needing that the feeling inside of him provoked. He wanted to get it out of him, tear it out and kill it with his bare hands. But he had tried, and he had failed, and all he could do was quietly suffer.
"But I'm a bloody vampire," he mumbled, feeling the bitterness turn into anger with himself. "I'm a being who doesn't care about anything, who shouldn't.be able to." he clenched his jaws together and the hand holding the mug closed around it, shattering it and making the blood it contained spill between his fingers and onto the floor as pieces of porcelain cut his flesh and tinkled to the floor as well.
It made him close his eyes, close his eyes to all of it.
"It's all over." he mumbled, repeating what he had realized as the vampire instincts in him had to give way to. He wasn't even sure anymore.
To his humanity, still lingering in a before forgotten corner of him?
To his compassion brought on by a conscience he hadn't heard from in such a strong voice since he was turned?
Or to his love for a mortal, a woman, a human who had changed him with all her glory and spirit, all her damn glow of life that she seemed to have forgotten for a little while?
He felt the blood clutch its sticky body to his hand, and the practically unnoticeable stinging from the cuts he had received, then he realized that the blood wasn't merely pig's blood, but his own. That thought made him snap his eyes open and then he let hear a laugh, a high almost hysterical laugh that he couldn't contain and that stopped as soon as it had traveled up his throat and escaped his mouth.
It had been born by the stupid comparison his mind had just made, pig's blood and HIS blood?
"Same difference," he murmured, looking down at his hand.
"Spike?" her sleepy voice suddenly asked from the doorway.
He looked up, not able to hide how caught he felt.
Caught in something so personal as his thoughts had been, convinced that his vulnerability must show on his face he went into game face and took a step forward.
"Buffy, get OUT!" he yelled at her, raising the hand not covered with blood as a threat.
She blinked at him, surprised over his sudden out burst and recoiling, but only for a moment before taking a step forward again, meeting his gaze with an expression he knew very well and he understood that, no, he couldn't scare her away that easily.
"Be quiet, or you'll wake up Sarah and Jacob. Do you want them to see you like this?" she asked in a low voice and he sighed, turning away from her.
"No," he answered her.
"Then let me see your face," she said quietly and he turned his head to her, wondering what she meant.
She took the few steps forward that were dividing them.
"Then let me see your face," she repeated and even though her voice wasn't soft or gentle, it wasn't loving in any way he thought he heard a trace of kindness in it.
I don't need it, he tried to tell himself, but couldn't, not when the kindness started showing in her eyes.
He looked away from her, shrugging his vampire exterior off and putting on his human face. He didn't want to look at her and so he went up to the puddle of blood and bits of porcelain on the floor, squatting down and starting to pick the latter ones up with his hurt hand, putting them in his clean one.
No, not clean, it had threatened Buffy.
He pushed the thought away, getting more and more annoyed and wanting to give into his darker side, wanting to go hunting like in the old days when that was all that mattered. The passion of the kill being all the passion he needed.
And then she was suddenly beside him, on her knees, gently pushing her hair behind one ear before starting to help him, and now he found himself unable to do anything BUT look at her. The moonlight was shining in through the windows in the wall to his right and there she was and she was more brilliant than the cold glow of it could ever be.
She filled her hand with the small pieces before rising to her feet and going over to the trash bin to throw them away. He followed her with eyes that seemed to only be able to see her and the way her body moved underneath the thin fabric of the nightgown, hearing her heart steadily beat in her chest and hearing her lungs fill with every new breath she took.
Then she came back with a piece of cloth, damp with water to better clean up the blood. She worked quickly, and he wanted to sweep that knowledge off of her.
How many times had she had to do it to obtain the skill she now held?
He didn't want to think about it and still he couldn't bring himself to stop her, to take over for her. He stared at her hands moving the rag, sweeping the stain up and away and it was gone.
She went to the sink, then changed her mind and once more went to the trash bin just to throw the whole thing away.
He realized he was standing now, he hadn't noticed straightening himself up, and then she came up to him again.
She looked at him with those green eyes, then frowned a little as she reached for his hand. He couldn't resist giving into the pleasant shivers going through him at her touch.
"Spike, you're."
"Don't speak, love," he heard himself gently whisper and she looked up at him, questioning, and then she seemed to understand because she nodded a little before letting go of him again and he felt abandoned and cold until she finally saved him by coming back.
She gently pushed him to lean against the thick wooden counter standing in the middle of the kitchen before bringing his hand into hers again. She started pulling the pieces embedded in his flesh out, carefully she removed them one by one before reaching for a small flask that she must have gotten. She popped the cork off and put some of the contents on a sterile looking peice of white cloth before starting to clean his wounds with it.
She was silent, for once listening to a request of his.
His eyes didn't leave her face for one second; even though she kept it lowered, her eyes focused on his hand as she carefully cared for it. When she was done she put the cloth on the counter behind him, leaning over ever so slightly to grab the flask and put the cork back on.
No need for bandages, love, you know that. No need for her to stand so close to me either and yet, she is.
She was so near, and still so far away.
Then she took a small step back, raising her face to look into his.
He smiled a little, his eyes thanking her, reaching out to her, touching her, pleading to her.
She smiled back, held his eyes a moment longer and he knew that she didn't need any thank you's and that she couldn't take his hand, want his touch or give in to his plea.
She just couldn't.
And then she turned from him, walking out of the kitchen and back upstairs.
He didn't watch her leave.
***
Buffy woke up to the sound of movement in her room and at once all the sleep was gone and she was fully awake, trying to wait for the best moment to charge the intruder.
Then she heard a low humming of a song she distantly recognized and she sighed, throwing off the covers and sitting up in bed.
"Gina!" she said and the young girl stopped her chores to turn to her.
"Morning, Miss Summers," she said with a small courtesy and a smile. "I trust you slept well?"
"Yeah, sure," Buffy mumbled, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and getting off it. "If you don't count a late-night clean up of the frigging kitchen," she added and Gina, who was making the bed, turned to her with a questioning look. "Never mind," Buffy said, shaking her head at the maid who shrugged and went back to what she was doing.
Buffy went up to the big cupboard that served as a closet and opened the doors, taking out the second dress of hers that she hadn't used yet.
The one yesterday had been almost the same green as the one she had borrowed from Sarah, the one now in her arms was a soft marine blue and she liked the cutting of it, both were made of cotton. Even though she thought the high necks that seemed to be in fashion, the tops of the dresses having no real cleavage what so ever and long sleeves, was a little stiff, she still liked them.
Forty minutes later she walked into the drawing room where Jacob was reading the newspaper.
"Good morning, Jake," she said and he looked up with a smile, liking the nickname she had decided to give him.
"Good morning, my dear," he said cheerfully as she took a seat in the armchair to his right.
"Any interesting reading?" she asked and he sighed.
"Not really. Except for a rather intriguing interview with a man who claims to have been attacked by some kind of a monster or other," he said, bending forward a little to add: "And the most fascinating thing is how he claims to have escaped it."
Buffy leaned forward as well.
"Maybe it has something to do with the Fire thingy," she said and Jacob nodded.
Then he seemed to remember himself and shook his head instead.
"No, I don't think so. It sounds like he was attacked by a vampire, but then I am not sure how liable that is. After all, the cases where victims actually survive are.well, as you are quite aware, I'm sure, very scarce."
Buffy's eyes had widened a little at his words.
"Yes." she said, feeling a thought stir in the back of her head that she couldn't really grasp and it slipped away. "That's.Can I read that article?"
Jacob nodded, quickly turning the pages to get it up for her, then handing it to her.
"Morning," Spike's voice was heard as he entered the room.
Buffy looked up, her eyes wandering to his hand which, of course, had not one mark indicating his little 'accident' the night before. She smiled a little before looking up at him, finding herself still not used to seeing him without his black trench coat and in an attire requiring a tie. Then he returned the smile and walked up to her and Jacob.
"What are you doing?" he asked and stopped on her right hand side to bend down and look at the paper in her hands. "Researching?"
"No," she answered silently, her attention once more fully on the article on the page in front of her. "This man. John Carpenter, says he was attacked by.hm, a fanged demon who switched appearances between human and creature and held the strength of twenty men. Sounds familiar," she added sarcastically with a glance at him and he laughed.
He was so grateful at that moment that she didn't have his ability to detect a change in moods, and even more so that he had left the ability to blush behind him with one bite from Dru, because there it was, the sodding proof of what he had done the day before staring him in the face.
"But listen to this!" Buffy exclaimed, getting to her feet with the paper still in a firm grip she quoted: "'He thought for sure that death had come to claim him, but his prayers were answered as the fiend suddenly drew back.' Yada-yada. '.managed to get to hospital and have his wounds tended to Mr. Carpenter will be fully restored within the next month!'" she exclaimed. "This is just totally weird!" she added as Spike came up to her and grabbed the newspaper.
"Let me see that," he said and started to read through the article. "Bloody hell," he winced when he was done and when he looked up both Buffy and Jacob were staring at him. He threw the paper down on the floor and turned around, walking out through the door he growled: "Can't vampires just stay bleeding vampires anymore?! This is just a bloody SHAME!"
They heard him mumbling to himself as he climbed the stairs and they turned to each other. Then Buffy shrugged, picking up the newspaper and handing it to Jacob.
"He'll get over it," she said and Jacob smiled a little.
"It is rather peculiar to think that he is one of them, isn't it?" he asked and Buffy tried to force a smile, but it didn't quite work and Jacob noticed because he added: "No, I suppose it wouldn't be for you, now would it?"
She wanted to say something more comforting than "no", but couldn't think of anything. Sarah then joined them and the distraction of showing her the article and the discussion that followed was all Buffy needed to take her mind off the subject.
***
He felt like a bloody caged animal and there was nothing he could do about it. He was walking, he didn't want to call it pacing because that was something Buffy had started doing and it ANNOYED him!
Green-eyes was in the bloody PAPERS! What the hell had he been thinking letting him go?
"Dammit!" he exclaimed, trying to focus his mind, get it working on what he should do.
Okay, so the man might not recognize him if they ever would meet, after all he had been rather drunk and then Spike just guessed that green-eye's sight hadn't been all that clear even though he had been sobered up by the time their fight ended.
On the other hand, he would probably remember Spike's face if he could remember the fact that Spike had switched from human face to game face.
Then again they might not even meet; they seemed, after all, to be moving in slightly different circles.
Spike felt like breaking something, preferably his own neck but that was out of the question. He started cursing to himself, looking around the room for any kind of breakable and not valuable possession.
"What are you doing?" Buffy's voice asked and he swirled around to face her.
He straightened his back and shook his head as he said:
"What do you mean?"
She entered with a mug in her hands, putting it down on the desk to the left of the door before approaching him.
Memories of the night before came seeping into his head; her gentleness, the kindness.
Sod it! he thought and turned away from her.
"I won't be able to show my bloody face again." he mumbled as Buffy stopped behind him.
"What?" she asked, and he bit his jaws together hard, now REALLY wanting to break his own neck, then turned around to her.
"Nothing, pet. Just that this bloody vampire is gonna. give all of us a bad name," he answered her and she raised her eyebrows.
"Oh, yeah, like you guys don't really have that already," she said and he tilted his head.
"You know very well what I mean," he said, feeling like he was grasping at straws. "He'll be hunted down and killed faster than you can say 'toothless'," he added, trying to look as cold and distant to the whole thing as possible.
"I know," she said, her eyes not in his but wandering around the room. "And I suppose you wanna be part of that hunt, huh?" she asked as she walked up to the window behind him, looking out.
"Oh, I think I already am," he grumbled, turning to her as she turned back to him. "I mean, we ALL are, already, all us vampires," he hurried to add as he saw the questions in her gaze. "And that's as it should be."
She smiled weakly, nodding.
"Yes, I suppose a vampire refusing to kill is as bad as a human bound TO kill," she said thoughtfully before once again walking past him and up to the low desk jam-packed with letters, papers and notebooks.
"It's nature, pet," he said, pushing down the laughter rising in his throat as he added solemnly: "Ain't nothing you can do to change it."
She smiled a little again as she picked up one of the notebooks.
"Ah, don't touch that," he said and was at her side as she opened the first page, snapping it out of her hands.
She turned to him with a teasing glint in her eyes.
"Why not? Old diaries?" she asked and he glared at her before putting the notebook down on the desk, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her around to usher her to the door.
"No," he answered and opened it for her.
"What then?" she asked, good humor behind her voice. "Poems?" she added, dragging out the word.
He swallowed and at the hesitation she turned around towards him, her eyes widening.
"Poetry?" she asked, sounding as surprised as she looked, but at least there was no hint of mockery.
"Get out," he murmured and gave her a gentle push, making her take a step back before he started closing the door. "And thanks for bringing me my breakfast," he added before he shut it.
Buffy stared at the door, her eyebrows slowly rising.
"Poetry?" she repeated.