Disclaimers: Santa never gave me a pony for Christmas, and he didn't give
me this, either.
Feedback: Well, duh.
Author's Note: Thanks for everyone that's been reviewing, it makes me feel appreciated. Uh, that's all I have to say.
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"I think I found it!"
Buffy looked up from the book she was reading. "Found what, Giles?"
"The spell! The, um, the truth spell."
"Why would you want a truth spell?"
"Don't you remember? For Spike, to see if he really is harmless. See, it's right here."
"So if it works . . . and he really -is-, um, impotent, does that mean that you're going to let him go? You know, untie him and release him into the wild?"
"Well, that was the plan. I'd really like to have my house back to myself again . . . free of bloodsucking fiends."
Buffy frowned. It had been one week since she'd last vampsat, so to speak, for Giles. And she had actually -enjoyed- her time with Spike, hard as that was to believe. She'd been reluctant to admit it to herself, but she was starting to think of him as somewhat of a friend. So the thought that Spike might leave Sunnydale troubled her.
"So . . . when are you planning to do this spell?"
Giles looked down at the book again, studying it. "Well, the supplies should take a few days to gather, but I reckon we could do it sometime next week; this week if we're lucky."
"Oh." Buffy said quietly. Giles peered up at her inquisitively.
"Buffy, what's wrong? I would have thought you'd be overjoyed."
"No, I'm fine, it's just . . . I'm tired. Didn't get much sleep last night, what with classes and patrolling and all."
"If you want, I could take over patrolling tonight."
"Oh, no, Giles. It would be too dangerous."
He shook his head. "Don't worry, I'd get Willow and Xander to come with me. I'm not some harmless old man, you know. Besides, I have plenty of weapons . . ."
"I don't know . . . if anything happened to you . . ."
Giles shook his head fervently. "Nothing would happen, and you deserve a night to relax." He frowned. "Oh . . .but then someone would have to watch over Spike for me."
Buffy's ears perked up. "Well, I could do it if you want me too. You guys could do the patrolling thing and I could stay in your house, watch TV or something."
"But Buffy, I couldn't ask you to . . ."
"It's no problem. Honestly, you would be doing all of the hard work, and I could just have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening. Besides, if Spike gets too annoying, I can always gag him with a sock!" She was only partially kidding.
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"You're cheating."
Buffy glanced up from her deck and smiled. "Can I help that you're so lousy at cards?"
"Yeah, well, see how good you are at poker when you're tied up to a chair."
"Well, that happens to be your own fault. Maybe if you weren't a violent killer we wouldn't have to take such precautions."
He ignored her, focusing on his hand. "I'll take 3 cards."
Buffy peered at the cards lying on his lap. "Err, which ones do you wanna discard?"
"The ones on the far left."
"Which left? Mine or yours?"
"Ugh! Forget it, I quit!" Spike growled in anger. "No one can play poker like this!"
Buffy picked up his cards and placed them on hers, returning them to the top of the deck. "You weren't complaining when you were winning."
"Yeah, well . . ."
Buffy sat up on the couch. "So, what do you want to play next? Monopoly? Scrabble? Twister?"
"No, I want to play the Quiet Game. Ever head of it?" He turned his head away from her, sulking.
"Someone's a sore loser."
Spike shifted in the seat, grimacing. "Yeah, well, I can't help it. These ropes chafe, you tied 'em too damn tight."
"Oh, right. You're just making up excuses."
"See for yourself."
Buffy got up and walked behind his chair, taking his bound wrists in her hands. She moved the rope to the side, gasping when she saw the marks they had left. The raw spots were a deep crimson and some were even bleeding. Buffy touched the sores gently, and Spike winced, attempting to pull his hands away.
"Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer!"
"These look pretty bad, Spike." She got up from the floor. "I'll be right back."
Buffy left the living room and made her way to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit. She then made her way to the basement and retrieved scissors and more rope.
She returned and set her supplies in back of Spike. Then she walked around to the front of the chair, giving him a no-nonsense glare.
"Spike, your wounds needed to be tended to, and I can't do that if you're still tied. I'm going to free your wrists . . ."
His face lit up. " . . . But if you try anything, I have a stake on hand, and I'm not afraid to use it."
Buffy moved behind the chair again, picking up the scissors. She took the ropes and gently placed them between the scissors, cutting slowly, not wanting to rub the twine against Spike's sensitive flesh.
She sawed through the rope and gingerly peeled it away, placing the bloodied material on the ground.
"They're free."
Spike moved his arms from behind his back and stretched, groaning. "God, that feels good. You know; you never appreciate freedom until you've been tied up to a chair for weeks. Trust me, it's not as nice as it sounds."
"Yeah, well, enjoy it for now, it's only temporary. After I fix your wrists, I have to tie you up again."
She pulled one of his hands closer to her for examination. She opened the first aid kit and removed the rubbing alcohol. She uncapped the lid and soaked a cotton ball with the solution. Buffy brought it up to Spike's wrist and he cringed, pulling away.
"What are you doing? You're not going to put that on me!"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Spike, it's just rubbing alcohol. It'll help you heal faster. Now stop being such a big baby and give me your hand."
"But . . . it stings."
Buffy sighed, wrenching his hand towards her and dabbing at the sores lightly. Spike gave a yip and tried to pull away, his eyes watery with pain. Buffy finished cleaning the blood from the first hand, and dropped the cotton ball to the floor. She took the medical gauze next to her and wrapped his wrist, being careful not to pull it too tight. She picked up his second hand and did the same for it, Spike flinching every time the rubbing alcohol touched his open wounds.
Buffy pulled his hands out in front of him, examining her handiwork with a smile. "See? All better."
Spike looked down at his wrists, impressed. "You really did a quality job here, Slayer. Ever considered becoming a nurse?"
Buffy grinned. "Nah, I'm really more into helping mankind through death kinda girl. Besides, bandaging hands? Doesn't give you the same kind of adrenaline rush that a good kill does. Not that it isn't rewarding in and of itself . . ."
"Buffy." He reached out and grasped her warm hands into his. "Thank you. Really."
He looked up at her with soft, tender eyes. Spike started to lean towards her, and she found herself coming towards him as well. Her heart stopped in her throat.
'Is he going to kiss me?'
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
To be continued . . .
A/N: Ha ha ha! I'm evil, aren't I? If you really want to find out what's going to happen, you'll have to wait until the next chapter. Stay tuned!
Feedback: Well, duh.
Author's Note: Thanks for everyone that's been reviewing, it makes me feel appreciated. Uh, that's all I have to say.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"I think I found it!"
Buffy looked up from the book she was reading. "Found what, Giles?"
"The spell! The, um, the truth spell."
"Why would you want a truth spell?"
"Don't you remember? For Spike, to see if he really is harmless. See, it's right here."
"So if it works . . . and he really -is-, um, impotent, does that mean that you're going to let him go? You know, untie him and release him into the wild?"
"Well, that was the plan. I'd really like to have my house back to myself again . . . free of bloodsucking fiends."
Buffy frowned. It had been one week since she'd last vampsat, so to speak, for Giles. And she had actually -enjoyed- her time with Spike, hard as that was to believe. She'd been reluctant to admit it to herself, but she was starting to think of him as somewhat of a friend. So the thought that Spike might leave Sunnydale troubled her.
"So . . . when are you planning to do this spell?"
Giles looked down at the book again, studying it. "Well, the supplies should take a few days to gather, but I reckon we could do it sometime next week; this week if we're lucky."
"Oh." Buffy said quietly. Giles peered up at her inquisitively.
"Buffy, what's wrong? I would have thought you'd be overjoyed."
"No, I'm fine, it's just . . . I'm tired. Didn't get much sleep last night, what with classes and patrolling and all."
"If you want, I could take over patrolling tonight."
"Oh, no, Giles. It would be too dangerous."
He shook his head. "Don't worry, I'd get Willow and Xander to come with me. I'm not some harmless old man, you know. Besides, I have plenty of weapons . . ."
"I don't know . . . if anything happened to you . . ."
Giles shook his head fervently. "Nothing would happen, and you deserve a night to relax." He frowned. "Oh . . .but then someone would have to watch over Spike for me."
Buffy's ears perked up. "Well, I could do it if you want me too. You guys could do the patrolling thing and I could stay in your house, watch TV or something."
"But Buffy, I couldn't ask you to . . ."
"It's no problem. Honestly, you would be doing all of the hard work, and I could just have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening. Besides, if Spike gets too annoying, I can always gag him with a sock!" She was only partially kidding.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"You're cheating."
Buffy glanced up from her deck and smiled. "Can I help that you're so lousy at cards?"
"Yeah, well, see how good you are at poker when you're tied up to a chair."
"Well, that happens to be your own fault. Maybe if you weren't a violent killer we wouldn't have to take such precautions."
He ignored her, focusing on his hand. "I'll take 3 cards."
Buffy peered at the cards lying on his lap. "Err, which ones do you wanna discard?"
"The ones on the far left."
"Which left? Mine or yours?"
"Ugh! Forget it, I quit!" Spike growled in anger. "No one can play poker like this!"
Buffy picked up his cards and placed them on hers, returning them to the top of the deck. "You weren't complaining when you were winning."
"Yeah, well . . ."
Buffy sat up on the couch. "So, what do you want to play next? Monopoly? Scrabble? Twister?"
"No, I want to play the Quiet Game. Ever head of it?" He turned his head away from her, sulking.
"Someone's a sore loser."
Spike shifted in the seat, grimacing. "Yeah, well, I can't help it. These ropes chafe, you tied 'em too damn tight."
"Oh, right. You're just making up excuses."
"See for yourself."
Buffy got up and walked behind his chair, taking his bound wrists in her hands. She moved the rope to the side, gasping when she saw the marks they had left. The raw spots were a deep crimson and some were even bleeding. Buffy touched the sores gently, and Spike winced, attempting to pull his hands away.
"Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer!"
"These look pretty bad, Spike." She got up from the floor. "I'll be right back."
Buffy left the living room and made her way to the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit. She then made her way to the basement and retrieved scissors and more rope.
She returned and set her supplies in back of Spike. Then she walked around to the front of the chair, giving him a no-nonsense glare.
"Spike, your wounds needed to be tended to, and I can't do that if you're still tied. I'm going to free your wrists . . ."
His face lit up. " . . . But if you try anything, I have a stake on hand, and I'm not afraid to use it."
Buffy moved behind the chair again, picking up the scissors. She took the ropes and gently placed them between the scissors, cutting slowly, not wanting to rub the twine against Spike's sensitive flesh.
She sawed through the rope and gingerly peeled it away, placing the bloodied material on the ground.
"They're free."
Spike moved his arms from behind his back and stretched, groaning. "God, that feels good. You know; you never appreciate freedom until you've been tied up to a chair for weeks. Trust me, it's not as nice as it sounds."
"Yeah, well, enjoy it for now, it's only temporary. After I fix your wrists, I have to tie you up again."
She pulled one of his hands closer to her for examination. She opened the first aid kit and removed the rubbing alcohol. She uncapped the lid and soaked a cotton ball with the solution. Buffy brought it up to Spike's wrist and he cringed, pulling away.
"What are you doing? You're not going to put that on me!"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Spike, it's just rubbing alcohol. It'll help you heal faster. Now stop being such a big baby and give me your hand."
"But . . . it stings."
Buffy sighed, wrenching his hand towards her and dabbing at the sores lightly. Spike gave a yip and tried to pull away, his eyes watery with pain. Buffy finished cleaning the blood from the first hand, and dropped the cotton ball to the floor. She took the medical gauze next to her and wrapped his wrist, being careful not to pull it too tight. She picked up his second hand and did the same for it, Spike flinching every time the rubbing alcohol touched his open wounds.
Buffy pulled his hands out in front of him, examining her handiwork with a smile. "See? All better."
Spike looked down at his wrists, impressed. "You really did a quality job here, Slayer. Ever considered becoming a nurse?"
Buffy grinned. "Nah, I'm really more into helping mankind through death kinda girl. Besides, bandaging hands? Doesn't give you the same kind of adrenaline rush that a good kill does. Not that it isn't rewarding in and of itself . . ."
"Buffy." He reached out and grasped her warm hands into his. "Thank you. Really."
He looked up at her with soft, tender eyes. Spike started to lean towards her, and she found herself coming towards him as well. Her heart stopped in her throat.
'Is he going to kiss me?'
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
To be continued . . .
A/N: Ha ha ha! I'm evil, aren't I? If you really want to find out what's going to happen, you'll have to wait until the next chapter. Stay tuned!