AGAINST DESTINY
Chapter Ten : One Bridge Down
Darius perched himself on the rooftop of the building across Spike's flat. He glanced at his apartment window and sighed heavily while his leather coat flowed in the breeze like a cape.
"Sorry, Spike. Can't help you. You'll have to deal with your situation on your own or with Buffy," he told himself quietly and stood up.
The Demoner spun around to face the flock of Ahrima Demons behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave them a commanding look.
"Keep an eye on this whole town. Watch every graveyard, every demon bar, any demon hangouts."
He received twenty simultaneous nods. "Good. Go." The flying eyeball creatures spread out their wings and took off to scout Sunnydale.
Darius gave Spike's apartment window one more look before he disappeared into the night. "We'll meet again."
***
Spike sat on his bed with his back against the headboard and his sapphire blue eyes glued onto the wall. His position had barely changed since Buffy had brought him to his apartment after their confrontation at the park. He had stayed up all night and even though morning had come to replace it, he still didn't feel the need to sleep or rest. The only things that concerned him for the moment were his emotions and thoughts.
What was he? He used to be a Master Vampire, killer of two Slayers and countless of others... yet he was 'Love's Bitch'. What kind of demon loved as much as he did or as devoted as he was? Not very fitting for a cold hearted bloodsucker. And now he was human, but not quite with most of his vampire powers intact.
"Poor Spikey. Can't be a human, can't be a vampire. Where the Hell do you fit in?"
He chuckled bitterly at those words.
It didn't matter who or what he was because he never fit anywhere anyway, no matter what he did or how hard he tried. Back in his human days, people picked on him and his 'bloody awful poetry'. He was a good man but constantly laughed at and ostracized by his fellow men.
As a vampire, he had to consistently prove himself and didn't fully earn his family's respect until he bagged his first Slayer. Unlife was wonderful after, having built a fierce reputation and finally accepted by his family. However, like all good things, it ended after a series of disasters; stuck to a wheelchair, Drusilla cheating on him, losing the Gem of Amara, being chipped by the Initiative, falling in love with Buffy.
Not only was he a harmless vampire, but he had also fallen for his mortal enemy. He had accepted it, no matter how wrong it felt at first. It hadn't been that bad since the Scoobies had let him in in their little club though he knew they did it because he was convenient. They only came to him for help and were always quick to forget about him after, like when they plotted behind his back to resurrect Buffy.
"You didn't tell me. You brought her back and you didn't tell me."
Spike bit his lower lip to stop himself from sobbing when tears flowed out of his eyes as the memory came back to haunt him. He had done everything he could to convince them that he had changed and that his feelings for Buffy were real, not some twisted obessession, but he was still just a convenient body for them to use. He would always be an outsider, shunned, unwanted, never fit, doomed to be lost and alone in the dark with no one to share his pain and feelings with. Always...
And to top that, his soul constantly tortured him with a century worth of guilt and remorse. He had tried to push the feelings away but they always came back to haunt him everytime he remembered last night's events, something he wouldn't be forgetting soon.
Spike's head snapped up slightly when he heard the door open. "Buffy..." he rasped when he sensed her though he didn't bother to wipe his tears away.
He didn't care anymore if Buffy saw him all weak and vulnerable. She had already broken his heart anyway and saw him act like someone from the psychiatric ward last night. But he did wonder why she would want to help him. Was she doing it out of sheer pity? Or was it something more? Whatever it was, it cut his heart into tiny little pieces because he had fallen for her again and to have her so close but not be able to hold her like he used to because they were over.
Buffy entered Spike's room and paused at the doorway, surprised to see him already awake and in the same position as last night. Her eyes first settled on his face and noted his tear soaked cheeks. Her gaze trailed down to his chest and gasped, barely audible, when she saw several cuts, still bleeding.
She crossed the room and sat next to him, not too close or too far. She looked into his sapphire blue eyes but said nothing, hoping he would start first, not really sure how to approach him in this state.
Without looking at her, Spike spoke up. "What brings you here? Come to watch me suffer? Bring any popcorn? Sell any tickets for the angsty show?"
Buffy shook her head slowly. "No. I'm just here to help," she answered in a low voice. "You're still bleeding. Why did you cut yourself?"
"It burns. Too much. Tried to cut my heart out to stop it."
Buffy remained silent. She didn't know exactly what to say to a vampire turned human who used to kill people.
"Look, you don't have to do anything. You don't have to be here."
"But I want to."
"Why?"
She avoided the question. "You should get cleaned up."
Spike was about to give her a snarky comment but thought better of it. If Buffy wanted to mollycoddle him, fine. He would pick up whatever little crumbs she tossed at him. Slowly, he got off the bed and noticed the puzzled look on Buffy's face.
"Gonna take a shower," he supplied to her silent question.
"Good," she sputtered. "I'll be in the living room and we'll fix up those cuts."
Spike gazed into her emerald green eyes as she spoke to read her emotions. He was disappointed to see that there wasn't a hint of love, just uneasiness and uncertainty.
"Okay," he sighed and watched Buffy leave.
The peroxide blond went over to the closet and pulled out a pair of black jeans. He then strode toward the dresser and took out one of his button down, red shirts. He gathered the bundle of clothing in his arms and went to the bathroom.
Buffy sat down on the couch once she heard the shower running. She placed her hands on her lap and started to fidget with her fingers. Things were turning out better than she had hoped but she was still nervous and uneasy about helping him.
She had wanted to help him because he had done the same for her when she was lost and gloomy Buffy. And also because her feelings for the Ex-Vampire kept pestering her. She had finally gathered the courage to try and find out the extent of her feelings for him. She just wanted to spend time with Spike, see if she really did love him and what stopped her from loving him before with most of her scapegoats gone.
Buffy reached inside her shirt and pulled out her necklace. It was made out of gold and just long enough so that the skull ring that was laced around it hung over her heart. She gazed at Spike's ring for a moment but hid the jewelry back in her shirt when she heard the bathroom door open and approaching footsteps.
The Slayer straightened up and forced a calm exterior as Spike strode into the room with his peroxide blond hair slicked back as usual, his red shirt open, barefooted, and a first aid kit in his hands. She took the medicine box from him as he sat down next to her quietly.
Buffy examined the cuts on his chest. They didn't look any better but the bleeding had stopped, thanks to his quick healing. "You're gonna have to take your shirt off," she instructed.
Spike shrugged the red shirt off and placed it on the coffee table. "Done."
The twenty one year old woman opened the kit and took out some cotton balls and a bottle of disinfectant. She then cleaned and dabbed at the wounds, careful not to hurt him or make skin contact.
Spike watched her work intensely. He had never received this kind of attention from Buffy before. His eyes were filled with wonder as her petite hands wrapped bandages around his chest. How he wished it could always be like this. No arguing. No fighting. No rounds of Kick The Spike.
"Finished," Buffy announced proudly.
"Thanks," he nodded with a small smile.
"Just promise me to cut out the cuttage," she said and chuckled a bit at her joke.
"Okay. I promise. No more cuttage," he replied and a brief moment of silence passed between them.
Buffy looked away from him and let her eyes travel around the living room. She then noticed that someone was missing. "Say, where's Clem?"
Spike picked up his red shirt from the coffee table, put it back on, and began to button it. "Sent him home. He lives in m'crypt now."
"Ah. I see."
Another awkward silence filled the room but much longer.
Spike scrambled his mind frantically for something to say. Things were going smoothly for them and he didn't want it to end. "You look... lively," he blurted out and berated himself mentally. "That's the best you can do?" he thought angrily.
Buffy frowned at him. "What?"
"Lively. You seem to glow and s'not that your clothes are radioactive. You look... more alive," he covered lamely.
"Oh." She grinned a bit at his choice of words. "Yeah. No more doom and gloom Buffy. I'm back to Buffy Buffy."
"Good. I like Buffy Buffy better."
"Me too."
They shared a small laugh.
"So, how's Nibblet?" he asked.
"I told her about you. She wants to see you but I told her to wait. I wasn't sure if you'd want her to see you like this. You're like a big brother to her, you know."
"Thanks. Don't really want the Little Bit to see me like this. She okay?"
"She's been through a lot but she's doing great." She paused for a second and continued in a much quieter tone. "When Tara was shot, Dawn found her in mom's room... just laying there and lifeless. It was tough for her... to see Tara like that. And then Willow also tried to kill her."
Spike wasn't sure if he heard right. "Beg your pardon?"
"Willow tried to kill Dawn," she repeated, a little louder. "She was going to undo the monks' spell... the spell that made the Key human."
He looked down in shame. "Sorry. Should've been here to help."
"It's okay. We're fine. I'm back to normal. I've got a job. And the social workers haven't been bothering us that much." She gazed into his pained blue orbs. "How is it for you?"
Spike didn't answer for a long time and took in a shaky breath when he did. "It burns everywhere... every single person I killed... I can feel all of them. The things I did. How much they begged to be spared. How much I enjoyed killing them. I can feel them, hear them, everywhere, all the time. Even in my dreams... see them as zombies that're out to get me. I hate zombies."
"Me too," she agreed. She reached out for his hand, gave it an awkward pat, and let it stay there. "But it'll get better."
He stared at her hand and then at her, surprise and uncertainty written in his eyes, still not sure what Buffy was up to. "Hope so."
"You're not gonna get all quiet and broody, are you?" she teased with a grin.
He raised his scarred eyebrow and matched her grin. "Of course, and put bottles of hair gel on my hair like there's no tomorrow."
She tried to imitate his smirk. "God help us all."
They shared another laugh, a little louder this time.
Spike eyed Buffy's hand, the one on top of his, and took it in one of his. He looked at her and smiled a little, glad for her company and for not taking her hand away.
Buffy returned his smile weakly. Her heart soared though she tried to calm it down, knowing Spike could hear her rapid heart beats with his enhanced hearing, even if she had a feeling that he felt the same from the look on his face.
The two then looked away from each other and fixed their eyes on the wall as if they were trying to see what was ahead of them while they held the other's hand.
