Wounded Soldiers
A Buffy One-Shot
By Nichole (Neko) Johnson
Written: January 22, 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: This chapter, however, was somewhat affected by "Potential", but not entirely. I used some of the same concepts and even lines, but that's about it. I think on a whole, the whole story still goes in a slightly different direction than where the show is at currently, so that's all that matters.
Only a couple more chapters to go (maybe even one). But you can all look forward to more of my other Buffy fic, "Beyond the Darkness", along with its sequel, soon to come.
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~ "Respite" ~
Buffy decided it wasn't quite so comforting a thing to watch a vampire sleep. It was almost like watching over a corpse; as if the person she sat sentinel over had fallen suddenly into death.
Her only comfort was the tranquility of that sleep, for it assured her that his sleep was deep and dreamless. She could only image the amount of torture he had endured in waiting for her arrival, and to see him safe now and rested came of great comfort to her; more than she would have liked to admit.
The petite blonde stifled a yawn, shifting uncomfortably in the chair she sat watch in. She had relinquished her bed to him, after much argument; assuring him that she would rest in Dawn's room while he slept. But she could never have let him know how responsible she felt for what had become of him. Her need for sleep had been drowned out by her stubbornness to see him cared for after his ordeal, and she had spent the remainder of the night and early morning hours instead holding needless sentry in a corner of the room.
"You really should get your rest, dear," spoke a soft voice near her ear.
Buffy no longer flinched at the now-familiar intrusion of her mother's worrisome advice, still watching the sleeping vampire with guilt-laden concern.
"You should really be the one in that bed right now, Buffy. You need your rest more than anyone here."
The blonde Slayer shook her head softly. "No. I can't rest yet. Especially if you're the one telling me to do so."
She turned to face her mother's apparition finally, her look almost apologetic. "I know you're not her."
The figure of Joyce, which stood clear as day beside her, bending close, pulled a face of motherly frustration; shaking her head despairingly at her daughter's stubbornness.
"Buffy, what are you talking about?" she replied gently, sounding exhausted. "You need your rest, honey. You're not making sense anymore."
She shot a glance at Spike, then back to her daughter, a reproachful look in her eyes. "And what have I told you about having vampires in your bed? You know the house rules, Buffy. Especially after the trouble with Angel."
The expression on Buffy's face hardened, and yet somehow remained sorrowful and guilty; unable to mistrust the image of her mother entirely.
"Stop," she spoke softly, her tone pleading. "Just…stop. Stop pretending you're her. Stop coming to me like this."
Joyce peered at her sadly, the concern growing in her eyes. "Stop pretending I'm who, Buffy? What's this about?"
The older woman sighed, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's forehead and brushing away the stray strands of hair that lay there. "I'm your mother, Buffy. I'm worried about you."
Buffy's countenance seemed to tremble. There was a quaver to her voice when she spoke again.
"No. You're not."
* * *
She didn't startle as much from this dream as she had the others. Instead, she woke slowly, raising her head from her shoulder and looking about the room for familiarity. Nothing appeared out of place; Spike still sleeping soundly across the room in her bed, the faint warm glow of early morning sunshine glittering through the shades.
Getting up from her chair and stretching stiffly, she went to the window and tightened the shades further; replacing the blanket that had been pinned up the night before, which had at sometime come loose and fallen aside. Assured that the sunlight had been held sufficiently at bay, she slipped silently from the room then, with only one last glance at the vampire still slumbering in her bed.
* * *
"Morning," chorused the others off-handedly as the Slayer entered the kitchen, which was already bustling with activity as the five girls and Andrew sat at the overcrowded island.
"Good morning," replied Buffy earnestly with attempted cheer, heading for the refrigerator. "You guys are all up awfully early."
The girls all shared a glance, looking perplexed.
"Its 10 a.m.," pointed out Molly helpfully, giving Buffy a concerned look. "Your time."
The blonde froze slightly, carton of orange juice in hand. "Oh," she replied comically, looking sheepish.
Heading for the cupboard and getting a glass, she poured herself some juice, downing it rapidly in her thirst.
From the counter, Kennedy offered her a supportive grin. "Hey, don't sweat it. You needed your sleep."
The others nodded and murmured their agreement, as Buffy began pouring herself another glass.
"Right," was Buffy's overeager reply, smiling assuredly. "My sleep. Needed it. A lot. Great stuff."
She quickly downed another glass of the orange juice, returning the nearly empty carton to the fridge and retrieving a box of cereal from the cupboards.
The others watched her silently for several moments, especially Dawn, who seemed concerned over something.
"How's Spike?" she asked suddenly, watching her sister prepare herself some breakfast.
Buffy nodded readily, not looking up from her cereal. "Good. He seemed to be sleeping well when I last looked."
Dawn nodded faintly in reply, looking somewhat relieved by this. It was obvious that just as her sister, she had been worried over the vampire as well.
"I didn't sleep well," spoke up Andrew suddenly, gaining strange and annoyed glances from the women in the room. "The floor in the living room is really hard. A-and I think there was this, stray piece of glass and it sort of dug into my back, and…"
Realizing he was earning dirty looks from the others, mainly Buffy, he trailed off, clamping his mouth shut once more.
Ignoring the interruption, Buffy turned to her sister once again. "Where's Xander? He was supposed to give you a ride to school this morning."
The teenager looked somewhat guilty. "W-well I told him you probably wouldn't make…me…go today…" she began hesitantly, looking hopeful. The stern look in her sister's eyes, however, hurried her to correct herself.
"But I could always go late."
Buffy nodded severely, looking pleased with her reply. "As soon as he gets back," she added firmly, looking serious.
Dawn nodded earnestly. "He went to pick some things up at his place, along with some clothes for Spike, now that the heats off of us. But I'll have him take me when he gets back."
The potentials suddenly looked serious.
"That's right, Buffy," spoke up Kennedy suddenly, sounding grim, "We haven't seen anything of this First thing since you killed that super vamp of it's. Should we be worried?"
The blonde Slayer looked grim as well, giving the girls a firm glance. "We should always be worried. Always be ready.'
"It looks as though The First's in remission, as Anya's resources say, but we can never tell for sure. All that means for now is time for us. Time to train; time to plan. We have to always be ready; always be en guard.'
"Because time for us, means time for them. The First may be biding it's time for now, but it will be back once it's regrouped, and it will probably be stronger and a lot more dangerous than before."
Buffy got up from her seat, jaw set with determination. "Therefore, training begins today."
The other's faces showed mixed responses; some fierce enthusiasm, and others, unease.
Andrew also showed enthusiasm. "Goody!"
Buffy shot him a stern glance. "Not you, Andrew."
The sci-fi geek looked suddenly disappointed.
Buffy and the other girls suddenly looked up as Spike silently entered the kitchen, looking about at the sea of faces with concealed discomfort.
"Whoa!" was Vi's loud exclamation, her fear of the vampire for once overshadowed by obvious surprise.
"Your face!" spoke up Molly loudly, voicing all of the potential's thoughts. "I-it's…!"
"You can see out of both eyes now," finished Kennedy wryly, looking slightly impressed, not to mention a bit amused.
Andrew looked uneasily up at the vampire as well, scooting a bit further away from the doorway. "Yeah, you look great," he muttered nervously, trying to appear unobtrusive for once.
Spike gave them all a dry glance. "Glad you're all so chipper this morning," he murmured sardonically, slipping past them into the room and heading for the fridge.
Buffy turned her gaze from the vampire to the girls. "Vampire's heal incredibly fast. Almost as fast as Slayers," she informed them all curtly, turning her cheek to indicate the cut that had been an open wound only just the night before, and was now but a mere pink mar of her features.
The potentials seemed to take this in with some amount of awe, Molly hurrying to scribble the information down on a tablet already littered with notes; just as the former Slayer-in-Waiting, Annabelle had been known to do. Dawn rolled her eyes slightly, looking somewhat irritated with their lack of worldly knowledge.
"Buffy," came the vampire's voice softly from just off of the Slayer's shoulder. She turned to meet his gaze questioningly, pulling back slightly at the sudden close parameters she found herself to him.
"Want I should take this upstairs?" he murmured guardedly, lifting the medical bag of pig's blood in his hand for emphasis.
The petite Slayer turned to eye the collection of teenage girls once more, who were now talking eagerly amongst themselves and occasionally throwing curious glances in the vampire's direction. She raised a brow wryly at the thought of them dealing with a vampire taking breakfast in their midst.
"That would probably be a good idea…" she replied finally, nodding insistently.
The peroxide-blonde vampire grimaced slightly, dark humor in his eyes. "Right."
Hefting the bag of blood and closing the refrigerator door, he made to slip out by way of the living room, but Buffy caught his arm suddenly, stopping him momentarily. He turned to meet her eyes, his gaze questioning once more.
"How are you?" she inquired softly, her gaze intense; interrogating him.
The look in his eyes spoke of further perplexity as he turned to face her more fully, inclining his head slightly at her concern.
She took a deep breath, her gaze softening ruefully. "I know it's early, but the girls need training. And I could use your help. If your strength's up to it right now."
Normally he might have laughed at her concern, but in light of the situation, he merely frowned slightly, looking ruminative.
"Just a few cuts 'n bruises; a rib or two still out of place," he murmured in low tones, keeping his voice from reaching those in the kitchen.
His eyes rose to meet hers again, dark and intense. "I can manage. I've fought on more fatal wounds."
Buffy avoided his gaze almost imperceptibly, pretending to be in thought. She appeared not entirely to trust his assessment, her expression still hinting at concern.
"I need you at full strength, Spike," she began insistently.
"I'll be fine," he continued adamantly, cutting off her persistent concerns. He gazed at her firmly, willing her to meet his eyes once more, which she finally did; returning his look for equal strength; and he favored her with a faint, sorrowful smile.
"I'm alright, Buffy."
She gazed at him for several more moments, and finally finding assurance there, she nodded slowly in confirmation.
"Wow. Check out the sparks," murmured Rona suddenly from the other side of the room, breaking the tense silence between vampire and Slayer, and leaving Buffy looking rather shamefaced for it.
The other girls giggled affirmation, as Buffy firmly refused to meet their eyes in disgrace, her countenance tight. Beside her, Spike fought back the urge to grin in amusement at her embarrassment; despite the fact that he looked nearly as guilty himself.
At the island table, Dawn shot her sister a sorrowfully accusing glance. It went unnoticed, however, in the amusement coming off of the girls around her.
"Girls!" broke in Buffy's voice suddenly, the giggles dying short. All eyes were on her once more, their expressions apologetic.
"That's enough fun for now," she began, looking around at them all, her expression severe. Vi gulped nervously.
"We've got training to do."
* * * *