Chapter Five

            He met Giles at the museum, and it took ten minutes to get the information he needed and get to the hospital.  Anyone who knew the London transport system would have been amazed.

            "Tara McClay?"

            "The Benson Ward, sir, down here and to the left.  But I'm afraid you won't be able to-" the nurse looked at the ID in front of her.  "Oh.  Of course.  If you'll follow me."

            He found Tara barely conscious, her hand held by a pink-eyed redhead wearing a fluffy jumper.

            "Giles?" she said when she looked up, and then she took him in.  "Hey, I'm not sure you're..."

            He ID'd her, and Willow fell silent.

            "Is she awake?"

            Willow shook her head.  "She's - well, she's asleep, she woke up an hour ago but - what are you doing here?  Why is this-?"

            "I can't explain now."  He shook Tara by the shoulder.  "Ms McClay?  I need you to wake up."

            "But you can't-" Willow began, and he silenced her with a look.

            "Ms McClay?"

            An awful silent second, then Tara's eyes flickered.

            "Who was the last person you saw before you woke up?"

            Tara's head moved and she mumbled something incoherent.  He sighed impatiently.

            "Tara.  The last person you saw?"

            "I really don't think-" Willow began, about to push the button that would call the nurse.  But then Tara's lips moved, a tiny sound escaped.

            "What?  What was that, baby?"

            Tara's eyes moved again, with effort.  "Spike," she whispered.  "I saw... Spike."

*

            Buffy didn't sleep much that night.  Spike seemed endlessly fascinated with her, waking her when she got drowsy, promising impossible things to keep her awake, and then actually fulfilling those dreadful, embarrassing, kinky, erotic promises.  Buffy wasn't exactly innocent, but she had no idea there was so much to sex.  Spike seemed to want to see and touch and taste every little bit of her, some bits more than others, and he positively encouraged her to return the favour.

            Over and over he roused her in some ludicrous way: nibbling at her collarbone; licking her breasts; slipping his fingers between her legs and watching her orgasm before she was even fully awake.  For Buffy the night seemed to last forever, a twilight of impossible pleasure, but when Spike finally let her sleep, curled against his exhausted body, it was over far too soon.

            He had an incredible body, she thought drowsily as she drifted away, Spike's fingers sleepily stroking her shoulder.  Like a big cat, all lean muscle.  Not bulky, like Riley had been.  Not built up.  Every sinew here had a purpose, every muscle was used only when it was needed.

            Although Buffy figured she'd woken up a few muscles tonight.

            It was nearly dawn when her eyes finally properly closed, and not long after when she woke to lazy fingers counting up her ribs.

            "Don't you sleep?" she murmured, too exhausted to move.

            "Only when I don't have anything better to do."

            "And now you do?"

            "Yeah."  He licked her nipple.  "You."

            Buffy smiled, opening her eyes.  "So now I'm something to do?"

            "Mmm."  He moved his attention to her collarbone and Buffy felt her tired body arching under his tongue.  "Best hobby I've had in years."

            "Since when?"

            "Well, I seem to remember I had a big thing about hog racing a few years back."

            "Bikes?  Bike racing is better than me?"

            He ran his tongue over her lips, her sore, bitten, bruised lips, and gently brushed them with his teeth.  Buffy slid her nails down his back and flexed her fingers against his lovely tight buttocks.

            "Bikes never answered back," Spike said, and captured her mouth with his own.

            "I don't-" Buffy took his tongue between her teeth "answer back."

            "Bollocks," Spike said.

            "Well, if you insist..."  Buffy let her hands travel round over his hips, and she watched him suck in his breath.

            "Jesus, Buffy, don't-"

            "You don't like it?" she asked innocently.

            "You," he grabbed her hands and lifted them above her head, pressing them down against the blanket they were lying on, "are a bloody menace."

            Buffy pouted.

            "Did I mention how much I like dangerous women?"

            She wriggled her body against his and sank her teeth into his bony cheek.  Spike moaned-

            And then he gasped, and slumped against her, and Buffy was embarrassed for a split second, until she realised that someone had kicked the door open and had a gun pointing at them, and it occurred to her that half a second before Spike had gone dead and heavy against her, there had been a sharp punch in the air, like a gun being fired through a silencer...

            "Get the fuck away from her," said the person with the gun, and Buffy froze, because although she couldn't see his face, she didn't need to.

            "Riley?"

*

            Anya sat back in her seat and sighed.

            "Xander, I'm bored."

            He gave a strained smile.  "Everyone's bored, honey.  Hearing about how bored you are isn't helping."

            "But they're not doing anything!  Just standing there, talking."

            "Three's nothing for them to do, sweetie.  There is no plane.  They can't board the plane until the plane arrives.  And the plane is stuck in France."

            Anya sighed again.  "Lousy French."

            "Hey, if it wasn't for the French we'd have no champagne."

            "Like we're going to get any on this stupid flight.  Damn low cost airline."

            "It's all we can afford, honey."

            "Then you should earn more."  Anya frowned.  "Why don't you have more money?"

            Xander gave her a very tired smile and was about to explain that he'd spent all his money on this trip in the first place, when a shadow fell over them.

            "Xander and Anya Harris?"

            Anya looked up hopefully.  "Yes?  That's us.  Are we getting money for our flight being late?"

            He hesitated.  "You'll be getting something."

            "Will it be money?" Anya persisted, and Xander pushed her back in her seat.  He looked over the man in front of him: tall, imposing, dark hair and eyes, a sort of hunted expression on his face.

            "If you'll come with me..."

            Anya leapt up, dragging Xander with her, and pulled him after the man in the black shirt.

            "Sweetie, I'm not sure-"

            "He's going to give us money," Anya said earnestly, as they followed him into the secluded bay of a jetbridge.  "You're giving us money, right?"

            "You'll get what you deserve," said the man, and Xander felt a chill run down his spine.  He pulled Anya a little closer, protectively behind him.

            "Did you say you were from the airline?" he asked uncertainly, but he never got an answer, for the man hit him in the eye and for Xander, everything went black.

*

            "But, Riley," Buffy said, when her powers of coherent speech had returned, "what are you doing here?"

            "Protecting you," he said, kicking Spike aside and hauling Buffy to her feet.  He noticed with apparent distaste that she was naked and hurriedly pulled up the thick blanket to cover her.

            "But - from what?" Buffy said, and Riley aimed another steel-capped kick at Spike's ribs.  Buffy looked down and saw that the man who'd been making love to her all night was slumped inelegantly on the rough floor of the cottage, his body rapidly turning purple where Riley had kicked him, an awful spreading red patch on his back.

            "You shot him," she whispered.

            "You're welcome."

            "But - but-"

            "I saw what he was doing to you, Buffy," Riley said, slipping an arm about her shoulders and pulling her close.  "My God - if he - if he violated you-"

            Buffy stared at him in incomprehension.

            "Did he," Riley began, and it seemed hard for him to say.  "Did he rape you?"

            This concept was so ridiculous Buffy found herself laughing long and hard, holding onto Riley because nothing in her life had ever been so damn funny.  Vaguely, she was aware of other people coming into the small, low, dark room, and over her head Riley said, "She's in shock.  Hand me her clothes?  I'm taking her out to the car."

            "But," Buffy pulled on his arm as he tugged her away, "but, Spike, I-"

            "We'll take care of him," Riley said, closing his arm firmly around her and pulling her outside into the early morning dew.

            The air was very fresh and clean, Buffy noticed.  Later, it seemed that the air was all she could remember, that and wondering if, in Southern California, the air was this pure so early in the morning.  Maybe it was just in England.  Where had Spike said they were?  North Yorkshire?

            "They have good air here," she told Riley, who set her in the back seat of a car and pressed her clothes on her.

            "Get dressed.  I'll be back in a minute."

            Buffy pulled her clothes on, her body sore and aching, partly from the rough floor but mostly from Spike's brutal exploration of her.

            Had he raped her?  He'd certainly taken charge... and that time in the barn, she couldn't have stopped him... he'd raised her hands above her head and she'd been helpless... the first time she actually saw him naked she'd edged away because he was so big, he'd hurt her, he'd break her, surely he hadn't been that big when he... but Spike had laughed and said he was flattered, she wasn't getting off that easily...

            Riley came back out to the car and tapped on the window without looking in.  Ever the gentleman.

            "Are you dressed?"

            As if Riley had never seen her naked before.

            Buffy pushed the door open.  "I'm dressed," she said.  "I had a, a suitcase..."

            "It's in the trunk.  Are you ready to go?"

            Buffy looked at the little dark cottage, where she could just see Riley's friends moving around inside, and she nodded.

            "Take me far away," she said.

*

            For the first time since she'd known him, Giles looked shocked.  And Willow wasn't surprised: he'd entrusted Buffy to someone bad, someone very bad, someone who'd almost killed Tara...

            As it was, without immediate medical attention, Tara could have easily died.  She was damn lucky the cleaners had come in early and found her.  But Buffy... Buffy might not be so lucky.

            "She could be okay," Willow said bravely.  "Buffy seemed like a pretty smart girl, she's probably figured it out.  She could have escaped by now.  She could be in London, still."

            "Or Spike could have delivered her straight to the Angelus.  I knew he had ties to them, but I thought... I really thought..."

            "Or," Willow said as brightly as she could, "maybe Riley found her.  He seemed pretty determined."

            "He always was, when it came to Buffy," Giles said distantly.

            "Were they together long?"

            "A year, I think.  Yes, a year: he gave her the ring for their anniversary.  They broke up shortly after.  He was sent out to South America..."

            "Do you think he knew?" Willow asked.  "About the ring?"

            Giles lifted his shoulders and let them drop again.  "I didn't think he knew anything."

*

            Anya sat huddled in the corner of the cargo hold, her lip bleeding where Angel had hit her.  Xander lay unconscious five yards away.  She'd tried going to him but Angel had a gun and he didn't like her moving too much.

            "He needs help," she said.  "If you let him - if you let him die..."

            Angel shrugged.  "Do I look like I care?"

            "If you let him die I'll be widow," Anya sobbed quietly.  "I'm twenty-one and I'll be a widow.  I'll never have sex again."

            "Wouldn't count on that," Angel said, his eyes flicking over her body.

            "He won't be able to tell you anything," Anya said, her voice a little stronger.  "Let me help him, then he can talk to you."

            "Who says it's him I want to listen to?" Angel said, and Anya felt her whole body start to shake horribly.

*

            Buffy was aware she was in shock.  A little bit at the back of her brain kept asking, How did Riley know where you were?  But the rest of her thought, I've been raped, he kidnapped me, I'm so glad Riley rescued me, oh God, I can't believe he's back, Riley, my Riley...

            She reached out and grabbed his strong arm, clinging to him.  Riley stroked her hair and told her she'd be okay now, they were going far away.  Buffy wasn't sure where - she'd not been concentrating at the airport - but she knew that as long as she was with Riley, she'd be okay.

            Later, through passport control, after Riley had taken control at customs, he got a taxi to take them to a hotel.  Buffy looked around at street signs in a foreign alphabet, and managed to get her brain together enough to ask, "Where are we?"

            "Prague."

            Right now Buffy couldn't even remember which country that was.  "Why are we in Prague?"

            "Because it's far away and you don't need a visa."

            "Oh."

            He got them a room at an ornate hotel where everything was beautiful.  There was a pair of beds in the room and a large bathroom with an enormous white tub.  He filled it with hot water and added the bath foam the hotel had provided and told Buffy to get in.

            "I don't want a bath," she said.

            "You have mud on your back.  Buffy, it'll relax you.  Wash your hair, get clean.  Do you have pyjamas in your suitcase?"

            She nodded numbly and watched Riley try to find them, frustrated when he didn't know where they were, but not quite sure herself if she'd even put them in.

            "I might have left them at Giles's," she said in a little voice, some time later.

            Riley gave her a patient look and picked up the phone to Reception.  "Get in the bath," he told Buffy, "I'll get it sorted out."

            Buffy looked at the hot water with renewed interest.  How long had it been since she'd washed her hair?  Before... Before Spike, before the car journey, packing her things up, the hospital - God, was Tara okay?

            "Riley!" she yelled.

            "What?  Are you okay?"

            "What about Tara?"

            "Who?"

            She opened the door, and Riley blinked.  Buffy realised she was naked, and closed the door so only her head was peeping out.  "Tara," she repeated.  "She hadn't woken up."

            Riley frowned.  "She was the museum girl?  She's woken up.  She's fine."

            Buffy nodded, and her head wouldn't stop moving, like a nodding dog in a car.

            "Buffy?  You want to get in the bath?  The hotel have sent up a robe..." He passed it to her, soft and clean and white, and Buffy took it and closed the door.  She looked at the hot water again, feeling like Eliza Doolittle looking at the steaming tub, and dipped a foot in.  That didn't seem to be too bad, she wasn't dissolving or anything, so she followed it with the rest of her leg.  Okay.  Still good.

            It was when her back hit the water, her back which was more sore and bruised than she'd realised, that Buffy gasped and arched in pain.  The water stung more than it soothed, and she found herself huddling in a ball at one end of the bath, hugging her knees and crying.

            Eventually she must have fallen asleep, because she was woken by Riley shaking her shoulder.  She must have forgotten to lock the door.  He put a towel in her hands and left.

            Buffy washed her hair and lathered herself with body lotion.  Her face in the mirror looked reasonably normal: Spike hadn't hit her or anything, although her lip looked rather bitten.  There were bite marks on her neck and shoulders, her breasts and thighs, and she was bruised all over from his hard fingers and the rough walls and floor of the cottage.

            She wrapped herself in the hotel robe, feeling cleansed, and went out into the bedroom.  Riley was sitting there, looking faintly exhausted but solid and dependable, the Riley she'd fallen for a year and a half ago.

            "Hey," she said quietly, closing the bathroom door behind her.

            "Hey.  Feeling better?"

            Buffy nodded.

            "I saw - I was trying not to look - but you had bruises, a graze on your back..."

            Buffy nodded again, her eyes prickling.  "I'm okay."

            "If you want to talk-"

            Buffy closed her eyes, but immediately a zoetrope of images flashed across her mind: Spike's hands on her body, his lips on her skin, his face when he came, the hot, throbbing ache of the night filling her body.  She swayed and Riley caught her, sat her down beside him on the bed, and held her as she cried against his hard chest, cried because Spike was gone, because she'd been stupid and trusted him, because he'd raped her and she'd loved it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: Please don't kill me!  Repeat calmly, 'It will all be okay,' and wait for the next chapter…

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------