Unmoved
By iyaorisha

Timing: AU S7

Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)

Summary: Spike has healed, but doesn't want to leave the Summers' house. Buffy struggles with flashbacks from the attempted rape. Meanwhile, Rack's twin sister seeks revenge for his death. Can Willow defend herself without resorting to magick?

("Unmoved" is the second in a series of four linked AU S7 fanfics I wrote in the summer of 2002.)

Rating/Warnings: R. Violence (including suggested domestic violence), language, F/M, M/M flashback, rape flashback, and torture.

Spoilers: None if you've seen up through S6. References to my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath" and "Look What Love Gave Us"

Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com


***

Any other night, Halfrek might not have minded. But she was working overtime. Progress reports for the first marking period had been issued that afternoon. And, as usual, certain parents refused to see the connection between neglecting their kids and failing grades. Sam Luckwell had been grounded for the rest of the month and sent to bed without dinner. Rhiana James' mother had taken one look at her daughter's progress report -a D average-and pronounced the eleven year-old worthless.

"I can hardly ignore the little darlings' cries for vengeance to help you search for a witch."

"Hallie, it's not just any witch." Anya protested. "She put a spell on Xander. And I think she might be Rack's sister."

"Rack?" The ringlet-haired vengeance demon stood up. "The guy that your little friend Willow killed?"

Anya nodded grimly.

"That explains..." Halfrek's voice trailed off.

"Explains what?"

Halfrek bit her lip. "I know that somehow this will all end up being my fault.

"What is it, Hallie?" Anya demanded.

Her friend sighed. "Many years ago, there was a boy that I was following. His mother clearly preferred his twin sister. The girl was a powerful witch and he wasn't."

"The boy was Rack." Anya said.

The other vengeance demon nodded. "He was crying out for love and attention. It went on for years. Then, I learned that mother was planning on sending him away." Halfrek paused. "I was prepared to act. But then I sensed the boy's true nature. He was jealous of his sister and hurt her. I walked away."

Anya nodded. She had done the same in cases where women were too imbalanced to sense that they had not been truly wronged.

Halfrek continued. "The next day, he did something to his mother. Drained her of all her power. I had never seen anything like that before. The woman's body was like a husk. Dry, weightless, without color..." her voice trailed off.

"It's not your fault, Hallie." Anya said softly.

"I could have done something."

"You can do something now. Help me find his sister before she kills Willow." Anya pleaded.

Halfrek nodded. D'Hoffryn wouldn't appreciate her abandoning her duties, but it was the first time she'd played hooky in a century. And it was for a good cause. "Let me have 15 minutes." She asked Anya. "I want to send Robert Luckwell a little present."

"Isn't that the editor-in-chief of the Sunnydale Dispatch?"

"His son failed English because Dad was too busy chasing a Pulitzer to help him with his grammar homework. I thought Robert might enjoy a little dyslexia."

***

Spike handed Buffy a cup of instant coffee.

"Thanks." She murmured, then sipped. The beverage was horrible -weak and far too sweet, but it was hot. And it was the first thing that Buffy had consumed since the cheap champagne hours ago. "Did you find that last bag of blood?'

Spike held up his own mug of warmed blood. "In the freezer behind the cold packs. It's freezer-burned, but still better than nothing." The vampire took a noisy gulp. Then he suddenly spit the contents back into the mug and grimaced. "I take that back."

"Sorry." Buffy said; and to her surprise, she actually meant it. "Maybe, you should go out..."

"And what? Hunt?" he laughed harshly. "Find some deserving evil-doer to drink?" He shook his head. "No."

"But, the blood thirst?"

Spike stared at her with glimmers of yellow dancing in his eyes. "It's always there, Slayer. You know that."

That was true. That was why she was worried. Her concern showed in her face.

"You think I can't ignore it?' He continued. "Maybe, decide to snack on you or the Nibblet."

"Spike, I didn't..." Buffy protested.

"Listen, Summers, I've had hundreds of chances to tear your throat out. And not just every night of the last month sleeping under your roof. Think about it. The blood thirst was there every single time you and I did the nasty."

Her face burned. Memories of the desire mingled with fear as he trailed his lips along her neck or nipped her inner thigh. Yes, she had sensed how he had ached with one need even as he sated the other. Passion might have made Buffy willing to overlook that Spike was her mortal enemy, but the pleasure he brought her was never enough to make her forget that he would savor her blood.

He couldn't disguise the hurt in his voice. "You never asked Soul Boy if he could handle a few days without blood."

Again, Spike was speaking the truth. "Angel was different." Buffy said softly.

The vampire made a sound of disgust "Why? Because he had a soul."

She shook her head. "No, Spike. Because I trusted him."

He met her eyes again. "And you'll never trust me."

She didn't respond.

"Wait. That's not exactly true." Spike's voice stayed low, but the tone was acid with anger. "You trust me enough to watch over your sister and Red. But now that I've failed at that, you think I'm going to rip your throats out." He turned from her.

To both their surprise, Buffy laid a hand on his arm. "Spike, I don't think you failed."

He stared at her.

"You said this wasn't my fault." Buffy took a deep breath. "Well, it's not your fault, either. If you had been here, you would have protected Dawn. I know that. And I know that you can ignore the need for blood. I just want you to be in the best shape possible when we confront Ravesa."

Spike was silent.

"I'm serious." And she was.

"You're right. We'll need our strength."

Buffy dropped her hand from his arm. "Drink the blood. Stir some Tabasco sauce or whatever you like to mask the taste, but drink it."

Spike nodded. "You should eat something yourself, Slayer."

"I'll heat up those fish tacos I never got to.

"No." He reached out and ran a finger along her jaw. "I'll do it. Go clean up. You've got grave dirt on your cheek."

Again, her face warmed, but this time it was from his touch.

***
Willow attempted to stand, but the ground beneath her feet liquefied. She tried not to panic as she sank into the burbling soil. It closed over her head twice before she realized that struggling was only trapping her further. Instead of flailing, she forced her body into a position of relaxation: arms stretched out and head back as if she were floating in the ocean. Taking a deep breath, she allowed her legs to rise until her body lay suspended just below the surface of the quicksand. Once she was calm, she turned her head toward her attacker.

"It's not too late to stop this, Raven."

The only answer was harsh laughter. Suddenly, Willow felt the soil around her solidify. It pressed against her like a living thing. She was trapped.

***
Dawn was telling the truth. Buffy had neglected the house. There was only a sliver of soap in the bathroom and neither shampoo nor conditioner. She would have to make due. But the shard of Ivory slid from her wet fingers and disappeared down the shower drain. "Damn!" she cried.

There's no other choice, Buffy told herself as she slipped back downstairs and grabbed a bottle from the dreaded box in the hall closet.

As she squeezed shower gel onto a netted sponge, the scent of flowers filled the air. With the pleasant odor came unpleasant memories of Spike hurting her, trying to force himself on her in this very room.

Buffy pushed back her fear. It was only liquid soap and some perfume, she chided herself. Using the sponge, she scrubbed off the last of the graveyard dirt and dried sweat. Then she squirted a handful of the shower gel into her hair. The liquid felt icy against her scalp and she shivered involuntarily. The sensation reminded her of Spike's cold fingers running through her hair.

She shampooed quickly, forgoing a second lather. Since there was no conditioner, she was done. But the spray pounding against her shoulder blades was making it difficult to even think about leaving the shower.

Then she heard the bathroom door open.

Buffy shut off the water and fumbled for her towel. "Who is it?"

She couldn't see clearly through the steam and the opaque shower door, but she thought a lithe figure slipped into the room.

"Slayer."

Spike. He was in the bathroom with her.

"I've been calling you for two minutes. You couldn't hear over the water." The vampire complained. "Harris's truck just pulled up. Maybe he found the reversal spell."

Buffy couldn't talk. Couldn't move.

"Don't worry. I can't see anything." Spike chuckled. "It's all steamy in here. Smells good too." He leaned against the sink. "Jasmine, right?"

He didn't wait for her to answer. "One year, Dru fell in love with the stuff. Twined it in her hair when she could get fresh blossoms. Then, she got a hold of a bottle of eau de toilet. She bathed in it until she smelled like a Calcutta brothel." His voice was low and heavy with sensuous memories. "Didn't peg you for the jasmine type, Slayer. You always smelled like vanilla to me."

Was he aroused? She tried to scream, but all that came out was a strangled sound.

"Are you okay?" Spike took a step toward the tub.

Buffy saw his outline move and she shrank against the tile wall.

"Summers, what's the matter." He came closer and somehow, she found her voice.

"Get out!"

The vampire hesitated. "I told you I can't see anything."

"Get out! Get out!" Buffy screamed with a tone and volume that reminded her of Dawn's worse temper tantrums.

Spike shook his head. "Fine, pet." When he turned to go, Xander's fist slammed into his jaw. Caught off guard, the vampire staggered a bit, but recovered in time to duck the next punch. He grabbed Xander's arm and twisted it behind the construction worker's back, slamming him face first into the mirror. The safety glass broke in a spider web pattern. They both bounced back and stared at the reflection of Xander, his body contorted in a strange position by an invisible force.

"Wasn't I clear earlier?" Spike asked. "I'm happy to kick your ass, but it has to wait until the witch is put down. You agreed."

"I didn't agree to let you touch Buffy!" Xander snarled.

Spike laughed softly. So, the whelp knew about the snogging in the cemetery. He shook his head. "I'm surprised you told him, luv." He called to Buffy.

"She didn't have to tell me, you bastard!" Xander spat. "I leave you alone with her for an hour and when I come back I find you trying to rape her."

"Rape..." Spike echoed. "No!" In his shock, he loosened his grip on Xander. The larger man took the opportunity and threw all of his weight against the vampire. They crashed to the floor. Spike struck his head against the tiles. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but it did stun him long enough for Xander to grab the toilet plunger. He slammed the wooden handle against the sink and it splintered. Leaving a wicked looking, foot-long stake in Xander's hand.

Spike looked up at the weapon and raised his arms defensively. "Buffy! Tell him. I didn't attack you. Not this time."

"It's true." Buffy replied hoarsely. She slid back the shower door and looked at the two adversaries. "Spike came in to tell me that you were back." She swallowed. "He didn't try anything."

Xander shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I should have done this the last time." He drew back his fist.

The vampire slammed his arm into Xander's chest, knocking his attacker off. He sprang to his feet. Without looking over his shoulder, he spoke to Buffy. "I don't know what's going on, but the whelp intends to dust me. He can't do it, but I might have to hurt him bad if you don't call him off."

As if to prove his point, Xander launched himself at Spike again. Like a bullfighter, the vampire slid out of the stake's way with an inch to spare. He grabbed Xander's wrist and squeezed until the man was forced to drop the stake. To the Spike's surprise, Xander caught it midair with his other hand and attempted another thrust. The vampire raised his arm to block it, but suddenly a pair of slender arms descended between their bodies, knocking Xander aside.

"Enough you two!' Buffy snapped as she snatched the stake out of her best friend's hand.

"You two?!" Spike panted indignantly. "He attacks me and I'm to blame for defending myself."

"No. You're to blame for barging in here while I'm showering. Don't you know how to knock?"

"I did knock." He retorted. "I knocked and I called, but you didn't answer."

"So you thought you'd walk in?" Xander said sarcastically.

Spike didn't say anything.

"Did you really think that I'd ever want to be alone in this room with you after what you tried to do to me?" Buffy shivered. With the door open, the steam had fled, taking with it the room's warmth. The water dripping from her hair felt icy as it ran over her back and shoulders. But the chill wasn't what set her trembling. It was the look in Spike's eyes. Guileless. He honestly didn't know what his presence was costing her. "Go now, please."

He stared at her for a long moment, clearly perplexed. Then, he brushed past Xander and walked to the door. There he pivoted to face Buffy and paused as if he were waiting for one of them to say something. But when it was clear that she refused to meet his eyes, he squared his shoulders and left.

Xander walked over and shut the door. It locked with a click as loud as a gunshot in the too quiet bathroom.

As the adrenaline fled her body, Buffy felt weak and nauseated. She slid down until she was crouched in the bottom of the tub. It was a graceless, vulnerable posture. And one, she knew, was probably flashing more than she ever wanted to show Xander. But she didn't care. She just felt weary and heart-sick. The stake dropped from her hand with a clatter against the wet porcelain. She closed her eyes and prayed that the world would go away.

"Buffy?" Xander called to her as if from a great distance. But she could feel his gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up into his worried eyes.

"Did Spike hurt you?"

It's hard to shake your head when you're in a fetal position. Buffy sat up. "No." Her voice sounded shaky and unsure. Xander's eyes narrowed and slid toward the stake. She had to be stronger or else he might make a grab for it and go after Spike again.

"I'm fine, Xander." She said firmly. Buffy hoped that saying it with that much conviction had to make it at least a little true. Wasn't her stomach roiling less now.

"Buff, you don't look fine. You're..." Xander paused. In the seven years that he'd known The Slayer, he'd seen and done a lot of things that he never expected. Watching her huddle half-naked in a bathtub was not one he'd experienced before. So it was hard to put this eloquently. "You're a mess, Buffy. Spike might not have laid a hand on you tonight. But he did something to rattle you."

She couldn't explain it. Even if she found the right words, she wasn't sure Xander would understand. No one could. Not unless they had ever been pinned to this bathroom floor by a master vampire intent on raping them.

So she did the next best thing. "Help me up, Xander." He steadied her as she climbed out of the tub. Then, suddenly he dropped her arm and averted his eyes. Yeah, she'd flashed him, Buffy thought with a twinge of embarrassment. She turned her back and rearranged the towel. Poor Xander. She thought about asking him to leave, but she wasn't sure that she trusted him alone with Spike. Too many weapons in the house. Xander might not be physically strong enough to kill Spike now that the chip was inactive, but there were blades that could maim the vampire.

It was ironic that she was worried about Spike's well-being. After all, what he'd done to her months earlier still had the power to reduce her to a shaking jelly. How ridiculous. She was the Slayer. Spike's attack had hurt her, but not badly. Only bruises. And those had quickly faded. She'd suffered far worse at the hands of other preternatural creatures. Humans, too, for that matter. No, the problem was in her head.
Most of the time, she ignored Spike and thus, didn't have to think about the ordeal. When forced to deal with him, she made an effort to overlook all of the worst events of their shared past. And, there were even moments that she almost enjoyed the blond vampire's company.

But, then, something would trigger a lingering fear. And it didn't have to be Spike personally. Everything from scented bath products to the sound of running water had sent her into a panic. What was a term from Professor Walsh's Psych class? Post traumatic stress disorder. Buffy wasn't positive what all the classic symptoms were, but she was pretty sure that paralyzing flashbacks qualified.

"I'm fine, Xander." She repeated firmly. Then before he could disagree, she asked, "Did you find the reversal spell?"

"Sort of..."

"What does that mean?"

"I think found it, but it's in Latin. Remember, one of the many dead languages that I didn't take in high school."

"Me, too." Buffy smiled.

"So, it might be what we need. Or..." Xander's voice trailed off.

"Or it could harm Dawn." she finished for him.