Wounded Soldiers
A Buffy One-Shot
By Nichole (Neko) Johnson
Written: January 21, 2003
Summary: continuation of the events from Season Seven's "Showtime": Spike's rescue and recovery. Slight Spuffy-ness (Buffy/Spike)—always Spuffy-ness…
Disclaimers: Buffy's not mine. ::cries uncontrollably:: (Spike's soul is, however—he promised it to me in return for a pack of smokes. ^_^)
Author's Notes: Wee! Despite having just seen the new episode, "Potential", I don't think this chapter was really affected! (Even the later stuff, which I finished after the show.) I was, however, quite pleased to notice the tiny moment between Spike and Buffy, when Spike pulled her hand away gently. It seemed awfully familiar to the brief touch between them in my last chapter, when Spike takes the cold compress from her. Made it feel like I was kind of on the same wavelength as the show's writers there. ^_^
Anyway, I'll probably continue with this just a bit further. There are some issues, theories, etc. I want to deal with in here, so a big "Don't worry!" to those of you pressing for me to continue. There's more to come.
And if you're really looking for more Spuffy goodness, check out my other, longer ongoing fic, "Beyond the Darkness" (currently on Chapter 7). It's sure to deliver in the romance department.
* * * * *
~ "Distrust" ~
Wounds bandaged and cleaned as best as could be in a situation lacking much time, and sporting a clean shirt borrowed from Xander for the time being, Spike made his way slowly back down the stairs; guided by the Slayer, who was close at hand in case he should need the support.
"…there'll be a lot of questions. Everyone's pretty tense, and there's a lot to explain," she was saying as they went, her eyes ever-watchful on his steps; keeping a close watch on his progress down the stairwell.
"So. He's Spike?"
The two looked up from where they stood halfway down the stairs, meeting Kennedy's calculating, expressionless gaze.
Buffy faltered momentarily, hurrying further down the steps and forgetting her watch over the vampire momentarily.
"K-Kennedy… You're supposed to be in the basement with the others," she pointed out, a hint of disapproval coloring her already flustered tone.
The hard-headed Slayer-in-Training took no heed of her reprisal, still eyeing Spike with cold, shrewd eyes. Spike, in turn, returned her gaze; but his was a faintly curious, if not expressionless look. He seemed to be sizing her up, along with the situation, but he gave no indication to the observations he had made.
Kennedy crossed her arms solemnly, a disapproval of her own taking hold of her features.
"And you think he'll be able to help us?"
Buffy reached the bottom of the steps and met the dark-haired girl, eye to eye, her expression stern and challenging.
"Yes, I do," she replied in a low tone, meeting the potential Slayer's gaze with a hard one of her own. "Kennedy, we'll have this conversation later, though. Right now—"
Spike cleared his throat loudly, cutting Buffy's retort short and returning her attention to him, where he still stood halfway down the stairs. The peroxide-blonde vampire inclined his head slightly, and Buffy's gaze followed the movement towards the hall, where four heads could be seen peeking around the stairwell, gawking at the three of them in the entryway.
The blonde Slayer sighed unendingly, rolling her eyes heavenward in an expression of hopeless irritation. "Here we go…"
The potentials cowed slightly, looking sheepish.
"Sorry…" came Molly's weak apology. "We were all getting pretty antsy down there."
A bit too late, Dawn and Willow came hurrying around the corner, looking repentant.
"W-we were just talking and—" began Willow, stammering for breath.
"They overtook us," cut in Dawn helpfully, giving her sister a sheepish look. "I-it was like the British Invasion down there."
Rona looked insulted. "Hey, I'm not British."
Buffy sighed once more, her gaze straying to Spike, still poised on the stairs. The vampire raised a scarred eyebrow at her.
"Been meanin' ta ask you, Buffy," he spoke up softly, some of the old humor apparent in his voice. "When exactly did your place become Sunnydale's new sorority?"
* * *
"He's a vampire?" spoke up one of the potentials hesitantly, her tone dubious.
They had all been gathered in the living room for temporary council; the Scoobies either lined up on the sofa, beginning with Spike and then Dawn, or standing various posts about the room; the potentials across from them on chairs and other various pieces of furniture.
Buffy was left standing; pacing the length between the two groups. Giles stood nearby just off of the entryway, look pensive and yet attempting support as always. His countenance was dark, and he fiddled with his spectacles often; watching the room with fleeting, harried glances.
Somewhere in the back of the room, Andrew gave a faint, complaining whimper from his chair, to which he'd once more been bound. Buffy had ordered it, not trusting the nerd to not flee in the face of his attempted killer, or something less drastic.
Buffy turned to the owner of the question, looking as if just coming out of thought.
"Yes. He's a vampire," she replied calmly, eyeing each of the potential Slayers with what she hoped was a comforting gaze.
"And he's going to help us."
The potentials broke into nervous murmuring once again, eyeing the vampire on the couch with growing distrust and even some terror.
"You expect us to trust one of those things?" demanded Rona suddenly, sounding horrified. Having come to them with no former knowledge of the Slayer or the forces of darkness, the newly-discovered potential had been the loudest voice of fear and distrust out of the group; outside of the former "Eve", whom had turned out to be The First in their midst.
"What if he kills us all in our sleep?!" exclaimed Vi in a small voice, sounding possibly more terrified than Rona.
Molly turned to the other potential, eyeing her doubtfully. "He doesn't exactly look dangerous."
She turned again to peer at the vampire in question with open curiosity, whatever fear she may have had masked by her out-going nature.
"Besides, aren't vampires supposed to be all veiny and fangy? 'E looks like a regular bloke to me."
The others suddenly looked equally curious as to this anomaly. Except for Kennedy, who stood apart from the group, watching the discussion with a cold, calculating gaze.
Buffy gave Spike a look. The vampire returned her gaze, looking doubtful.
"Don' really think they're ready for that, do you?" he muttered sardonically, referring to his game face.
She continued to stare at him, inclining her head slightly and assuring her decision with her eyes. He sighed slightly, not so eager to seal the fate he could only imagined awaited him, but it was obvious he would comply anyway.
Turning to the gathered girls, he allowed his features to suddenly become that of the demon that had taken his form so long ago. He allowed them a brief glance of his golden, beast-like eyes and deadly fangs; and then the image had melted once more into the more preferable, chiseled features and mournful blue eyes.
The effect had been enough. The girls were once again a chorus of murmured terror and distrust, some of them stumbling over themselves in order to put further distance between themselves and the sudden demon in their midst.
Kennedy, however, remained unaffected; still standing to the sidelines, her expression severe. Spike noted her likeness to the blonde Slayer; the warrior's stance, the determined and stubborn streak that her eyes spoke of. It was clear why she was among the many potentials. She would've made an imposing Slayer.
Buffy spoke up suddenly over the wave of panic that had taken hold of the girls, her tone commanding enough to belay their terror momentarily.
"Yes, he's a vampire!" she proclaimed loudly, sending them all into silence with her voice. "Yes, he drinks blood. Yes, he's killed before. Many."
Only she noticed the vampire's flinch, the tortured look as he averted his eyes hastily. She went on, however, her tone softer this time; holding them to her voice.
"But what we are facing is beyond vampires, beyond massacre, beyond fear."
Her eyes scanned their ranks, taking in the various expressions of fear and anxiety written there; and she saw herself within their eyes, saw the fears and distrust she herself felt everyday. They were all exhausted, they were all afraid. But their strength despite that was what this thing hadn't counted on.
"What we're facing is the reason we fear these things. The First—pure evil. It's no longer a balance anymore; this is war. This is a fight to keep this thing from destroying everything we hold dear.'
"And we need all the help we can get."
* * *
Those gathered were silent for several moments, taking in the intent of those words.
And then one nervous potential voiced a fear that had been bothering her for sometime.
"What if he bites one of us?"
The Slayer's countenance seemed to crumble, as she allowed herself a sigh of frustration once again at their continued stubbornness. "He's not going to—!"
Spike, however, saved her the trouble. "Can't," he stated in his soft, clear baritone. "I don' hunt anymore."
"But what if—"
This time, Dawn cut in hastily, staring down the gathered potentials. "Spike's got a soul. He won't bite any of you," she said suddenly, her tone frank and defensive. She spared the vampire seated next to her an uncertain glance, and Spike favored her with a small, tight smile at her daring.
Kennedy finally spoke up from across the room.
"A soul?" she inquired, her tone characteristically demanding, and yet hinting of surprise.
Sharing a glance with her sister, and then with Spike, Buffy nodded her head in confirmation.
"Yes," she replied gravely. "He has a soul."
From her seat across the room, Molly favored the blonde Slayer with a curiously bemused expression.
"I don't get it," she said suddenly, "What does 'aving a soul got to do with it?"
"A great deal much."
Everyone's gaze was suddenly on the Watcher, who had thus far gone quietly unnoticed in a corner of the room.
Giles adjusted his spectacles nervously, avoiding their gazes as he elaborated. "A vampire with a soul is inclined to feel…remorse for his victims; to regret his misdeeds as a demon would not. Those few to ever be returned their souls, are repentant creatures…and also tortured.'
"The memory of former victims and acts of violence could drive a soul endowed vampire to madness."
The stillness that followed his remark was palpable. It was obvious that many of them there were familiar with the matter, and it wasn't comforting words he spoke now.
It seemed that Buffy shot her former Watcher a slightly disapproving look before turning to the others and continuing.
"Look, we don't have time to break-down and support all of your reasons for being okay with this. All I can really do is assure you that while I'm here, none of you are going to be harmed."
Kennedy came further into the room, finally relinquishing her spectator status. "She's right. It's obvious we need the help. Most of us don't even know how to handle weapons."
She turned her cool gaze on Spike once more, her expression still indecipherable. "And I'm guessing, despite his condition, the vampire's gotta' be strong. Extra strength…It could really help us here."
From across the room, Molly scanned those gathered with a supportive glance. "Ah-I think it's a good idea," she piped up encouragingly. She looked sheepishly over at the Slayer. "And I trust Buffy's judgment."
Buffy nodded silently, turning her gaze to the other two potentials who had thus far remained silent. Rona looked around in frustration, as if searching for back-up. But finally, she rolled her eyes slightly, turning back to the Slayer with a sour face.
"I don't know about judgment…" she muttered dryly. But she met Buffy's eyes with assurance.
"But I trust you, too."
"And so do I," spoke up Vi hurriedly, although she still shot a frightened glance in Spike's direction.
Buffy looked content with their replies, nodding grimly; a faint, pleased smile gracing her tight features. She let her arms fall loosely to her sides; swinging them lightly in an attempt to relieve the tenseness she'd been feeling all-too much lately.
"Good! Then we can—"
"Wait!" came Andrew's voice anxiously from behind them all. Everyone turned to glance at him momentarily, irritation or patient disregard on their faces.
"What about me? I should count, seeing as how I'm the one Spike almost killed most recently!"
The Slayer gave the former villain a stony glance. "You don't count."
Andrew looked desperate, struggling weakly with his bonds. "B-but, he almost killed me! And why am I the one who's tied up? I'm not the one biting people! I'm like e-easy bait now!"
"Awfully tempting, isn't it?" commented Xander with a sigh, looking regretful.
Spike shot him a wry glance, but didn't finish that thought.
Realizing the group session was through, the others began to wander away, muttering of hunger and so forth; leaving the Buffy, Spike and Xander to deal with the sci-fi geek's complaints.
Buffy crossed her arms and fixed Andrew with an intimidating expression. "How about, if you promise not to run away or try anything crazy like staking Spike, I'll untie you."
The blonde ex-villain ceased his struggling momentarily, uneasily thinking over her proposition. Then he fixed her with a hopefully cowed expression.
"Um, could I at least get some holy water or something…?"
Seeing the disapproving expression on her face, he hurriedly nodded his head in agreement, however.
"I-I'm good. No staking. Right."
* * * *