"Still Bound", chapter 3
by Bonnie
Spike's out to fix Ben's wagon. Buffy deals with the results of her pregnancy test. Everyone else lives their normal lives under the shadow of Glory. For those upset about Riley spawn. He's just a tool (in more ways than one!). Don't worry about it. Spike loves his Buffy any which way he can get her - even with baggage.
Thanks again to beta Zyrya for continuing to shuttle copy back and forth with me, forcing snappier descriptions, more coherent logic and technically correct writin'.
The second day after his run-in with Glory, Spike could get up from the bed and move around the room. He was already bored with being Dawn and Tara's pet project. If either girl plumped his pillow, smoothed his bedding or rewrapped his wounds one more time, he'd ... well, he'd probably grit his teeth, smile and say "thanks ever so" just as he had been doing. Anyway, having warm blood on demand was nice even if it was farm animal offal.
Wouldn't be long before he could get out, though. Then he'd solve this whole Glory problem, take the weight off Buffy's small shoulders and save the world. Be a hero. He made another slow, hobbling circuit of the room. Yes, his leg was healing up quite nicely.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," he said, still astonished at how his status had changed from the bad old days when everyone felt they could barge into his crypt uninvited at any time, looking for information or help.
"Hey." Buffy slipped through the door then stood there shifting from foot to foot. She actually looked nervous...and pale. Her skin was as drained of color as his own.
"You look like hell, Slayer. What's up?" He considered that he would dig his own grave with his runaway mouth one day and wondered how he had always managed Dru with finesse yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from baiting and goading Buffy.
She shrugged. "Nothing. How 'bout yourself? You still look trashed."
"Do I? Sometimes it's a bitch not having a reflection. How's my face shaping up?" He moved in closer to Buffy, invading her personal space, and she stepped around him. There wasn't far to go in the tiny room.
"Pretty as ever," she said dryly.
"Good." He gave her his best lascivious grin.
Suddenly the Slayer was all business. "We still haven't been able to find out any more about this alternate personality of Glory's. Are you sure you don't remember anything else."
"Not a blessed thing." Spike had given up trying to explain the Glory-Ben connection.
Buffy sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, our next move is to try to capture one of the Bizarrium Knights to see what they know about Glory. I need to find out where they're holed up."
Spike followed her across the room. "I'll be right as rain in another day then I can help you. Why don't you take it easy 'til then? You really are looking a mite peaked. Maybe could do with some bed and broth, yeah?" He lifted a hand as if to touch her hair then dropped it to his side.
"I don't have time. Dawn doesn't have time," she protested, looking ready to fly into a million pieces.
He knelt before her and looked earnestly up into her face. "You'll do no one any good if you're so worn out and weak you get yourself killed," he said firmly. "One day more isn't going to make that much difference. You rest! Send Harris out on your scouting mission. Make the boy feel useful for a change. He won't be in any danger as long as he stays far enough away. Then, when he gives us a location, you and I can go in tomorrow night, guns blazing and bag ourselves a knight. All right?" He smiled winningly.
Buffy looked down at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She really did seem on the verge of falling apart. Slowly she nodded.
"I - I guess I could do with a little rest ... after my stomach flu," she admitted.
Spike's smile widened and this time he allowed his hand to caress her cheek for a brief moment. "That's my girl," he rumbled.
Buffy relaxed into his touch for all of half a second before frowning and rising quickly from the bed. Spike was forced to scramble backwards lest she knock him over.
"I have to go now," she said stiffly. "Uh ... you get some sleep too." She scurried from the room.
Spike rested on his heels, his right leg screaming at him to hurry the hell up and straighten it out, and watched her go. "Inroads, baby," he said, smiling to himself.
********
Buffy lay on Giles' bed in the blessedly quiet house and tried to fall asleep. The others had returned to their regular lives today. Willow and Tara went to their classes, Xander to his job with a promise to scout for the Knights immediately after, Anya to reopen the Magic Box, and Dawn to school. Giles was on a grocery run since the Scoobies had descended on his meager bachelor cupboards like a plague of locusts.
Buffy hadn't been very happy about letting all of her loved ones out of her sight with Glory on the loose. She had made them promise to stay in crowds as much as possible, knowing that it was ridiculous since Glory could take any one of them at any time wherever she chose. She sighed and rolled over. Spike was right, she had catch up on the sleep she had missed the previous night. Constant worrying was only serving to make her feel more and more helpless, and a demoralized Slayer was a useless Slayer.
She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and tried to suppress the tears that were suddenly choking her. Maybe she should just cry it all out. It would probably be the best thing for her. A random thought drifted through her head, "You're lying in the fetal position. Fetal, Buffy! Get it? Fetal, like the fetus that's growing inside you right now. Isn't it ironic? And by the way, Buff, what are you gonna do about that fetus, hm? Made any decisions yet?"
"Get thee behind me, inner voice! I cast you out!" Buffy thought back at it. "Need sleep now, not harassment. Get out, get out, GET OUT!" She giggled as she thought of Dawn's drama queen scream, and yes she realized her sister had had every right to freak when she found out she wasn't a normal human girl but still the shrieking thing was so Dawn even before she had something viable to detonate it. The giggle became hysterics and soon evolved into body wracking sobs. Buffy pressed her face into the pillow to stifle them.
She cried and cried and cried. Her hands clutched and kneaded at the pillow, as she snuffled and snorted and burrowed face-down into the bed. "I'm getting snot on Giles' linens," she thought, just before a cool hand came down on her shoulder.
Buffy's head snapped off the pillow, her arm whipped behind her and her elbow connected with solid flesh.
"Ow!" an indignant male voice cried.
"Spike! Why are you here? Go away!" She scrubbed furiously at her face as she tried to compose herself.
"I was passing by on my way to the kitchen when I heard you crying. Thought you might need a little comfort. Excuse me for being a gentleman!" He scowled down at her from his seat on the edge of the bed. His hands were cupping his injured nose from which blood was gushing yet again. Spike pulled his hands away and examined them, grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and began swabbing at himself. "You are one tightly wound bitch," he informed her.
"Leave me alone! Does 'go away' mean something different in Brit-speak?"
He regarded her, still frowning steadily. "Sometimes it's good to talk about things even when you don't want to," he advised. "Otherwise they just circle around in your head 'til they drive you batty."
Buffy lay on her back now, looking up at him and returning his scowl with one of her own. She didn't reply.
Spike sighed. "Look, I know you're really worried about your sis, but this hell-god may not be as big a danger as you think. I have a plan, if you'll just give me another day to work out the details."
"Don't even think about going off on one of your half-baked 'plans'. We all know how those turn out," Buffy derided. "You tangle with Glory again and she'll rip you apart."
"You worried about me, Slayer?" he teased, lowering his eyelids to half- mast and adopting a flirtatious tone. "No need, sweetheart. Big Bad can look after himself."
She rolled her eyes.
He added, "And I promise to share all when I've finished planning, so there's one worry you can put aside. Now, what else is bothering you? You missing your mum?"
She grudgingly nodded once.
"Wish I could help you on that one, sweetheart, but it's just going to hurt bad for a while. Hate to sound like a fucking Hallmark card, but it will ease up some in time just like they say. Doesn't help you now though." He patted her hand, which was still clenched tightly in the sheets.
"No it doesn't," she whispered. "I need her. Especially right now."
He nodded. "And having that boyfriend of yours scarper when you needed him most didn't help, eh? He just couldn't take you being the stronger one could he?"
"Shut up. You don't know anything about it," Buffy said coldly.
"Think maybe I do," Spike insisted. "That train wreck was a long time coming."
"What?!"
"He never really understood you. Always wanted you to be less than what you are...."
"Shut up!"
"Couldn't see that the dark parts of you only make the rest shine even brighter. You threatened him."
Shut UP!" Buffy was sitting up now, facing him, her eyes snapping in fury.
"Well you did! He wanted a little bird to bill and coo with, to look up at him all fluttery-eyed and adoring. That's not you, pet."
"SHUT UP!!" She whacked him in the arm.
He clutched at it, laughing. "See."
"Spike! Whatever you think you know about me.... You know NOTHING about me; who I am, what I think or feel. You DON'T know me."
Instantly Spike sobered. "I know something's bothering you. Something ... else. Something more than the things you've told me. I can feel it."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Get off my bed and out of my room," she demanded.
"Giles' bed," he corrected.
"Get..."
"When you're ready to talk about it...."
"Out..."
"You know where to find me."
"Of..."
"Just trying to be helpful, you know."
"This..."
"Don't be afraid to share."
"Room!"
"Going now." She heard his chuckle as he shut the door behind him with a decisive click.
She lay back down, smoothed the covers, breathed deeply and tried to regain her composure. What composure? She'd been upset before Spike came in and stirred her up and now she felt, actually... better. Annoyed? Sure. Irritated? Definitely. Still worried? Of course. But hopeless? Not so much. Evidently being mad at Spike was good for the soul.
A little smile curved her lips as she closed her eyes and tried for sleep again.
********
Spike poked around the Watcher's cupboards for any kind of salty snack. Nothing. He took the hidden bottle of Scotch from one of the top shelves, poured a generous glassful and downed it. Then he twirled the empty glass in his fingers and thought about Buffy.
Whatever was bothering her, his girl was definitely going downhill fast. There wasn't time for him to dick around waiting for his wounds to heal more. He would get himself over to Willy's this very afternoon and locate the man he had in mind for the job. It wasn't like he hadn't traveled by daylight before; it was just a little more difficult making the mad dash from shadow to shadow when your leg was wonky.
But first he would need some earnest money for the exterminator. Spike looked around Giles' apartment for something saleable. After perusing the bookshelves, he chose several rare volumes and placed them in a paper bag. Then he grabbed a blanket from the couch. It was a little lightweight for his taste but it would have to do. He covered himself, opened the door to a sunny afternoon, planned his route and took the plunge.
**********
After a side trip to Clem's pawnshop, Spike entered Willy's dive with $2,000 in his pocket. Luck was smiling down upon him today. The very individual whose whereabouts he'd sought was drinking alone at a corner booth.
"O-pos and tequila," Spike ordered as he passed the bar and pointed to the corner, "And another for my mate." He sauntered to the booth and slid in across from the assassin.
The Fyarl-human hybrid ignored his presence but for a quick flick of the eyes, continuing to nurse his drink. Spike knew the creature was not only aware of him, but ready to kill him in a second if he perceived any threat. The creature was human enough looking to pass when necessary, but he had the strength of a Fyarl and if you looked closely you could see the aborted stubs of horns under his coarse mop of hair. His skin had a leathery texture and his hands seemed disproportionately large for the rest of him. It was rumored that Ersatz had never been known to fail on a mission. But he was expensive.
Spike laid the roll of bills on the table. "I heard you're the one to see about causing an accident. There's a delicate situation I'd handle myself if I could but ... I'd rather have it done by a professional such as yourself."
"Mm," the assassin grunted and reached for the fresh drink as Willy placed it in front of him.
"It's an easy kill. A human. And I don't care how you do it. You do me a quick, clean job and I'll pay you $5,000. Half up front, half after."
"Who's the mark?"
"Nice young fella at the hospital. An intern. I'll give you the specifics. For that matter, I'll go with you and point him out."
"I work alone," the killer rumbled. "You want to come along, have a taste of the body, I'll have to charge more."
Spike nodded. "I could do with a takeout meal. And I want to see this bloke die with my own eyes. Yeah. You deliver him to me fresh and I'll pay extra."
Surely even the Slayer wouldn't disapprove. Bringing the baddie to justice and getting some payback into the bargain sounded like a win-win situation. Plus Spike got to be the hero, save the bloody world, with no effort on his part. Brilliant! He chuckled his satisfaction.
The Fyarl thumbed through the roll of dirty bills. "This ain't half."
"I'll have the rest by tonight and I'll have all the information you need about the target."
A quick call to the hospital informed him that Ben would be on shift that evening. Spike arranged a time and meeting place with his hired gun and then descended into the sewer tunnels to plunder Sunnydale for the rest of the cash.
********
Buffy woke refreshed and ready to face the world again after a long, dreamless sleep. She could hear Giles and Anya arguing downstairs and Dawn's shrill voice piping up every now and then. Dawn! Buffy looked at the clock - 5:20. She hoped Giles had gone by the school and picked Dawn up. The idea of her sister walking anywhere by herself right now made her shudder.
Buffy sat up and instantly felt dizzy and hungry. Ravenous in fact. She headed downstairs to the kitchen from which wafted the mingled aromas of garlic and something made with apples and cinnamon.
"I'm telling you, your sales will only increase if you find out what the customer needs. My suggestion box idea is a perfectly viable business practice and you're only pooh-poohing it because you didn't think of it yourself!" Anya's voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard.
"I did NOT pooh-pooh. I only said I would take it under consideration, which is not the same thing at all." Giles sliced through a carrot with a decisive snap against the cutting board.
"And while you're thinking, we're losing valuable sales!"
"No one ever listens to me." Dawn carried on a parallel conversation with herself as she set the table. "Like, I had that great idea about the glitter pens with feathery tops that say Magic Box on them, and you would pass one out with each purchase, but did anyone ever say, 'Oh, good idea, Dawn! We'll get right on that!' No. Because I'm just a kid and my ideas couldn't possibly be worth listening to...."
Giles sighed. "All right! Put up your bloody suggestion box. Oh hello, Buffy. Just make certain it's tastefully done and placed somewhere appropriate within the store. Maybe back by the..."
"You think I don't know tasteful? I've been around a thousand years, buddy, I know tasteful!"
"And a good afternoon to all of you," Buffy said, as she came into the kitchen and lifted a lid off the steaming pot of spaghetti sauce. She dipped in the spoon and took a taste. Heavenly!
There was a knock at the door, which flew open and emitted Willow and Tara with a gust of rainy wind.
"We come bearing brownies," Willow said, grinning. "The gooey, fudgey frosted kind! From the bakery," she admitted. "We didn't have time to make them. Or a kitchen. Or, you know, ingredients. But the result's the same."
"Also a vegetable tray," Tara added. "The crispy, crunchy, good-for-you kind." She smiled at Dawn as she placed it on the table.
"Buffy, did you send Xander out into this weather to catch his death of cold on some wild goose chase," Anya turned her tirade away from Giles for the moment. "I don't think he even took a coat this morning. And just when is he supposed to eat between going to work and doing your job of chasing down the Knights of Byzantium?"
"Huh?" Buffy paused with another spoonful of sauce halfway to her lips. "I ... I didn't think ... I mean, I didn't know it was going to get stormy this afternoon. I'm sure he won't go if it's like this." She looked at Willow, worriedly. "Will he?"
"He'll do anything you tell him to do," Anya said under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Maybe I should go now and...."
"Nonsense, Buffy," Giles interrupted. "Xander is perfectly capable of looking after himself."
"It's just a scouting expedition, right," Willow added, soothingly. "He thrives on that covert stuff. Likes to pretend he's Bond. When he gets cold and hungry, he'll give up and come home. Don't worry, Buffy."
"But he shouldn't have to get cold and hungry! I better go. Giles, can I borrow a jacket? I didn't bring one."
Amidst the protests of everyone but Anya, Dawn's voice cut like a whiny saw blade. "Jeez, Buffy, stop being such a martyr. Sit down and eat something!" The teenager plopped plates down at each place setting with vigor. "By the way, how's Spike this afternoon? I knocked on his door after school but he didn't answer. Is he still sleeping?"
"I didn't check on him. I imagine he'll bellow if he wants something," Giles replied.
"I'll go see," Tara said. "His bandages probably need changing by now, anyway." She headed upstairs, stealing a quick kiss from Willow on the way past.
"Dawn's right, Buffy," Willow said, watching her lover sway up the stairs and then turning her attention back to her friend with difficulty. "You still look kind of pale. Sit down. Dinner's almost ready, isn't it Giles?"
"Yes, I believe so," Giles said, putting salad greens and carrots back in the refrigerator. "We have vegetable tray, pasta and sauce, and ... Dawn, did you forget your garlic bread?"
"Oh!" Dawn rushed for a mitt, bumping Giles out of her way and opened the oven door to extract a foil wrapped loaf.
"Milk or juice," Anya was standing in front of Buffy with a carton in each hand looking slightly apologetic. "Or soda."
"Milk, please," Buffy said and walked over to the table to sit down. She smiled at Dawn and her sister grudgingly returned the smile, and then turned her attention back to removing the bread from the foil.
Buffy watched her friends, her unconventional family, moving about the simple tasks of preparing a meal. She felt a surge of love for all of them, even Anya, who was now placing a full glass in front of her with a flourish. "Must be hormones kicking in," she thought.
"Um, Spike's not in his room," Tara announced from the top of the stairs. "He, uh, left a note." She descended the stairs as Buffy rushed to up toward her to take the sheet of paper.
"What now! Did he run away from home?" she muttered, scanning the contents.
"Let me see. What does it say?" Dawn abandoned the garlic bread and ran to snatch the missive from her sister.
She read it aloud, "Buffy: Have gone to take care of your Glory problem, so that will be one less thing for you to worry about. I have a foolproof plan. It will all be over soon. See you. Spike."
"Foolproof and Spike in the same context? I don't think so!" said Willow.
"Buffy, he's going to get himself killed! Do something!" Dawn shrieked.
"Oh, that's right, worry about the vampire while my poor Xander's out there bumbling around some fairly dangerous armed men with sharp weapons!" Anya shook her head.
"I don't think Spike could get far in the shape he's in," Tara said. "Could he?"
"With vampiric healing he's probably just fit enough to go out and get himself in trouble," Giles answered. "But I wouldn't worry too much, Buffy. You can still take the time to have a ." He watched the door swing shut behind her. ".hot meal."
**********
Spike slouched in the shadows, leaning against the trunk of a tree, and lit a cigarette, sheltering the flame against the gusty wind. He was posed to look cool and dangerous as he met again with his assassin. Actually it was more a matter of the tree holding up his exhausted body. Hobbling all over Sunnydale to collect the necessary dosh had been more tiring than he had counted on. After visiting a few vamps he knew and leaving them dustier and freer of worldly goods, he had cleared the till at several convenience stores through the fine art of distracting the clerks and snatching the money. It had been a lot easier in the days when he could go right in and snap their necks.
As cool as Spike thought he was, the assassin was cooler. Ersatz materialized out of the shadows right by Spike's side, causing him to jump and then stumble on his hurt leg. The vampire regained his balance, if not his dignity.
"Aren't you the slick one," Spike observed. "Pretty silent for a Fyarl."
"HALF Fyarl," the creature stressed. "Where's my money?"
"Here's $500 more. You get the rest after," Spike said, handing him the cash. "Your target should be coming out any time now."
As if on cue, the hospital exit door opened and staff members coming off shift began trickling out, hunched in their coats against the cold. Spike waited anxiously to catch sight of Doctor Ben Doll, hoping that he hadn't morphed into Glory again by now. Just a window of opportunity. That's all that was needed.
There was a long pause after a trio of nurses came chattering and laughing out of the building, then a lone male emerged. Spike waited while the man passed under a light to verify that it was Ben.
"There's your man," he muttered low to the half-Fyarl. When he got no response, he turned to see if his words had registered. The killer had already vanished.
***********
While Spike took care of business, Buffy looked for the errant vampire and Xander. Short of walking across town calling "Xander!" "Spike!" like they were a pair of lost dogs, Buffy wasn't sure how to find either one. Xander would more than likely be in the large woods at the edge of town where she had suggested he search for the knights, but Spike could be anywhere.
For lack of a better plan, Buffy headed toward Glory's hotel in case Spike had been recaptured. It was a long trek there and about halfway, as she was cutting through Shady Rest Cemetery, she began to feel very woozy and light-headed.
She shook her head to clear it and kept walking, the wind whipping right through her thin shirt. She wished she had taken the time to grab that jacket. After another few yards, the world began spinning around her again. As she tripped over a grave marker and began to fall and her vision started to blacken around the edges, Buffy considered that maybe she should have listened to Dawn and had dinner first.
**************
Ersatz dumped the still-warm body into Spike's arms. The intern's throat had been cut, and though his heart no longer pumped blood from the gaping wound, enough had collected there to give Spike a good long drink. As he tore into the cooling flesh and dined on the life-giving nectar, the vampire was more content than he'd been in a long time. Good food and a good deed all rolled into one neat package.
When he had drained every bit he could from the corpse, he rose and paid off the impatiently waiting assassin. Spike then dragged the body into the woods and dropped it in the damp underbrush. He looked down at the dead intern with pride. Buffy would be so happy when she found out he had saved the day.
On the other hand.... Spike considered the mangled throat and thought that maybe he wouldn't mention the eating part of the evening. It might be hard enough for Slayer to admit that killing the human had been a necessity. He checked his clothes for stains and wiped his face on the hem of Ben's scrubs before heading back toward Giles' apartment.
He strode jauntily through Shady Rest Cemetery, coat flapping behind him, cigarette smoke trailing off into the night. He breathed in a deep lungful of the rain-tinged breeze, sorting out the mingled odors and compartmentalizing them in his mind. Suddenly he smelled something sweet and familiar. Turning his head in a slow arc, he pinpointed the source of the scent and followed it.
When he caught sight of the Slayer's small body crumpled on the ground several yards away, he broke into a run. He started to panic as he drew close.
"She's dead! She finally met something she couldn't handle. She's gone!" his mind screamed as he pelted toward her. He threw himself to his knees beside her, grabbed her wrist and felt for a pulse. It was beating, steady and slow. He cursed himself for panicking realizing that he could've heard it beat if he'd just slowed down and concentrated. But she was unconscious and very cold.
Spike tore his coat off and wrapped it around her, then lifted her frail body and cradled it against him. Her face looked paler than ever against the black leather and her gold hair straggled in damp clumps, which he brushed out of her face. He couldn't locate a head wound or any other sign of injury. Nor could he scent blood on her. It almost seemed like she had simply passed out. He wondered if that indicated a fever and felt her forehead, but all humans seemed hot to him so he couldn't tell if her temperature was above average.
Spike debated taking her to his crypt where he could tend to her personally. He had visions of piling quilts on her, serving her hot tea, and then crawling in bed beside her to keep her warm. But he didn't have quilts or body heat and his microwave was on the fritz. Besides, the crypt was much farther away than the Watcher's flat and a good deal colder. He set off toward Giles' home at a brisk, if uneven, trot.
To be continued...
Spike's out to fix Ben's wagon. Buffy deals with the results of her pregnancy test. Everyone else lives their normal lives under the shadow of Glory. For those upset about Riley spawn. He's just a tool (in more ways than one!). Don't worry about it. Spike loves his Buffy any which way he can get her - even with baggage.
Thanks again to beta Zyrya for continuing to shuttle copy back and forth with me, forcing snappier descriptions, more coherent logic and technically correct writin'.
The second day after his run-in with Glory, Spike could get up from the bed and move around the room. He was already bored with being Dawn and Tara's pet project. If either girl plumped his pillow, smoothed his bedding or rewrapped his wounds one more time, he'd ... well, he'd probably grit his teeth, smile and say "thanks ever so" just as he had been doing. Anyway, having warm blood on demand was nice even if it was farm animal offal.
Wouldn't be long before he could get out, though. Then he'd solve this whole Glory problem, take the weight off Buffy's small shoulders and save the world. Be a hero. He made another slow, hobbling circuit of the room. Yes, his leg was healing up quite nicely.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," he said, still astonished at how his status had changed from the bad old days when everyone felt they could barge into his crypt uninvited at any time, looking for information or help.
"Hey." Buffy slipped through the door then stood there shifting from foot to foot. She actually looked nervous...and pale. Her skin was as drained of color as his own.
"You look like hell, Slayer. What's up?" He considered that he would dig his own grave with his runaway mouth one day and wondered how he had always managed Dru with finesse yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from baiting and goading Buffy.
She shrugged. "Nothing. How 'bout yourself? You still look trashed."
"Do I? Sometimes it's a bitch not having a reflection. How's my face shaping up?" He moved in closer to Buffy, invading her personal space, and she stepped around him. There wasn't far to go in the tiny room.
"Pretty as ever," she said dryly.
"Good." He gave her his best lascivious grin.
Suddenly the Slayer was all business. "We still haven't been able to find out any more about this alternate personality of Glory's. Are you sure you don't remember anything else."
"Not a blessed thing." Spike had given up trying to explain the Glory-Ben connection.
Buffy sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Well, our next move is to try to capture one of the Bizarrium Knights to see what they know about Glory. I need to find out where they're holed up."
Spike followed her across the room. "I'll be right as rain in another day then I can help you. Why don't you take it easy 'til then? You really are looking a mite peaked. Maybe could do with some bed and broth, yeah?" He lifted a hand as if to touch her hair then dropped it to his side.
"I don't have time. Dawn doesn't have time," she protested, looking ready to fly into a million pieces.
He knelt before her and looked earnestly up into her face. "You'll do no one any good if you're so worn out and weak you get yourself killed," he said firmly. "One day more isn't going to make that much difference. You rest! Send Harris out on your scouting mission. Make the boy feel useful for a change. He won't be in any danger as long as he stays far enough away. Then, when he gives us a location, you and I can go in tomorrow night, guns blazing and bag ourselves a knight. All right?" He smiled winningly.
Buffy looked down at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She really did seem on the verge of falling apart. Slowly she nodded.
"I - I guess I could do with a little rest ... after my stomach flu," she admitted.
Spike's smile widened and this time he allowed his hand to caress her cheek for a brief moment. "That's my girl," he rumbled.
Buffy relaxed into his touch for all of half a second before frowning and rising quickly from the bed. Spike was forced to scramble backwards lest she knock him over.
"I have to go now," she said stiffly. "Uh ... you get some sleep too." She scurried from the room.
Spike rested on his heels, his right leg screaming at him to hurry the hell up and straighten it out, and watched her go. "Inroads, baby," he said, smiling to himself.
********
Buffy lay on Giles' bed in the blessedly quiet house and tried to fall asleep. The others had returned to their regular lives today. Willow and Tara went to their classes, Xander to his job with a promise to scout for the Knights immediately after, Anya to reopen the Magic Box, and Dawn to school. Giles was on a grocery run since the Scoobies had descended on his meager bachelor cupboards like a plague of locusts.
Buffy hadn't been very happy about letting all of her loved ones out of her sight with Glory on the loose. She had made them promise to stay in crowds as much as possible, knowing that it was ridiculous since Glory could take any one of them at any time wherever she chose. She sighed and rolled over. Spike was right, she had catch up on the sleep she had missed the previous night. Constant worrying was only serving to make her feel more and more helpless, and a demoralized Slayer was a useless Slayer.
She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and tried to suppress the tears that were suddenly choking her. Maybe she should just cry it all out. It would probably be the best thing for her. A random thought drifted through her head, "You're lying in the fetal position. Fetal, Buffy! Get it? Fetal, like the fetus that's growing inside you right now. Isn't it ironic? And by the way, Buff, what are you gonna do about that fetus, hm? Made any decisions yet?"
"Get thee behind me, inner voice! I cast you out!" Buffy thought back at it. "Need sleep now, not harassment. Get out, get out, GET OUT!" She giggled as she thought of Dawn's drama queen scream, and yes she realized her sister had had every right to freak when she found out she wasn't a normal human girl but still the shrieking thing was so Dawn even before she had something viable to detonate it. The giggle became hysterics and soon evolved into body wracking sobs. Buffy pressed her face into the pillow to stifle them.
She cried and cried and cried. Her hands clutched and kneaded at the pillow, as she snuffled and snorted and burrowed face-down into the bed. "I'm getting snot on Giles' linens," she thought, just before a cool hand came down on her shoulder.
Buffy's head snapped off the pillow, her arm whipped behind her and her elbow connected with solid flesh.
"Ow!" an indignant male voice cried.
"Spike! Why are you here? Go away!" She scrubbed furiously at her face as she tried to compose herself.
"I was passing by on my way to the kitchen when I heard you crying. Thought you might need a little comfort. Excuse me for being a gentleman!" He scowled down at her from his seat on the edge of the bed. His hands were cupping his injured nose from which blood was gushing yet again. Spike pulled his hands away and examined them, grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and began swabbing at himself. "You are one tightly wound bitch," he informed her.
"Leave me alone! Does 'go away' mean something different in Brit-speak?"
He regarded her, still frowning steadily. "Sometimes it's good to talk about things even when you don't want to," he advised. "Otherwise they just circle around in your head 'til they drive you batty."
Buffy lay on her back now, looking up at him and returning his scowl with one of her own. She didn't reply.
Spike sighed. "Look, I know you're really worried about your sis, but this hell-god may not be as big a danger as you think. I have a plan, if you'll just give me another day to work out the details."
"Don't even think about going off on one of your half-baked 'plans'. We all know how those turn out," Buffy derided. "You tangle with Glory again and she'll rip you apart."
"You worried about me, Slayer?" he teased, lowering his eyelids to half- mast and adopting a flirtatious tone. "No need, sweetheart. Big Bad can look after himself."
She rolled her eyes.
He added, "And I promise to share all when I've finished planning, so there's one worry you can put aside. Now, what else is bothering you? You missing your mum?"
She grudgingly nodded once.
"Wish I could help you on that one, sweetheart, but it's just going to hurt bad for a while. Hate to sound like a fucking Hallmark card, but it will ease up some in time just like they say. Doesn't help you now though." He patted her hand, which was still clenched tightly in the sheets.
"No it doesn't," she whispered. "I need her. Especially right now."
He nodded. "And having that boyfriend of yours scarper when you needed him most didn't help, eh? He just couldn't take you being the stronger one could he?"
"Shut up. You don't know anything about it," Buffy said coldly.
"Think maybe I do," Spike insisted. "That train wreck was a long time coming."
"What?!"
"He never really understood you. Always wanted you to be less than what you are...."
"Shut up!"
"Couldn't see that the dark parts of you only make the rest shine even brighter. You threatened him."
Shut UP!" Buffy was sitting up now, facing him, her eyes snapping in fury.
"Well you did! He wanted a little bird to bill and coo with, to look up at him all fluttery-eyed and adoring. That's not you, pet."
"SHUT UP!!" She whacked him in the arm.
He clutched at it, laughing. "See."
"Spike! Whatever you think you know about me.... You know NOTHING about me; who I am, what I think or feel. You DON'T know me."
Instantly Spike sobered. "I know something's bothering you. Something ... else. Something more than the things you've told me. I can feel it."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Get off my bed and out of my room," she demanded.
"Giles' bed," he corrected.
"Get..."
"When you're ready to talk about it...."
"Out..."
"You know where to find me."
"Of..."
"Just trying to be helpful, you know."
"This..."
"Don't be afraid to share."
"Room!"
"Going now." She heard his chuckle as he shut the door behind him with a decisive click.
She lay back down, smoothed the covers, breathed deeply and tried to regain her composure. What composure? She'd been upset before Spike came in and stirred her up and now she felt, actually... better. Annoyed? Sure. Irritated? Definitely. Still worried? Of course. But hopeless? Not so much. Evidently being mad at Spike was good for the soul.
A little smile curved her lips as she closed her eyes and tried for sleep again.
********
Spike poked around the Watcher's cupboards for any kind of salty snack. Nothing. He took the hidden bottle of Scotch from one of the top shelves, poured a generous glassful and downed it. Then he twirled the empty glass in his fingers and thought about Buffy.
Whatever was bothering her, his girl was definitely going downhill fast. There wasn't time for him to dick around waiting for his wounds to heal more. He would get himself over to Willy's this very afternoon and locate the man he had in mind for the job. It wasn't like he hadn't traveled by daylight before; it was just a little more difficult making the mad dash from shadow to shadow when your leg was wonky.
But first he would need some earnest money for the exterminator. Spike looked around Giles' apartment for something saleable. After perusing the bookshelves, he chose several rare volumes and placed them in a paper bag. Then he grabbed a blanket from the couch. It was a little lightweight for his taste but it would have to do. He covered himself, opened the door to a sunny afternoon, planned his route and took the plunge.
**********
After a side trip to Clem's pawnshop, Spike entered Willy's dive with $2,000 in his pocket. Luck was smiling down upon him today. The very individual whose whereabouts he'd sought was drinking alone at a corner booth.
"O-pos and tequila," Spike ordered as he passed the bar and pointed to the corner, "And another for my mate." He sauntered to the booth and slid in across from the assassin.
The Fyarl-human hybrid ignored his presence but for a quick flick of the eyes, continuing to nurse his drink. Spike knew the creature was not only aware of him, but ready to kill him in a second if he perceived any threat. The creature was human enough looking to pass when necessary, but he had the strength of a Fyarl and if you looked closely you could see the aborted stubs of horns under his coarse mop of hair. His skin had a leathery texture and his hands seemed disproportionately large for the rest of him. It was rumored that Ersatz had never been known to fail on a mission. But he was expensive.
Spike laid the roll of bills on the table. "I heard you're the one to see about causing an accident. There's a delicate situation I'd handle myself if I could but ... I'd rather have it done by a professional such as yourself."
"Mm," the assassin grunted and reached for the fresh drink as Willy placed it in front of him.
"It's an easy kill. A human. And I don't care how you do it. You do me a quick, clean job and I'll pay you $5,000. Half up front, half after."
"Who's the mark?"
"Nice young fella at the hospital. An intern. I'll give you the specifics. For that matter, I'll go with you and point him out."
"I work alone," the killer rumbled. "You want to come along, have a taste of the body, I'll have to charge more."
Spike nodded. "I could do with a takeout meal. And I want to see this bloke die with my own eyes. Yeah. You deliver him to me fresh and I'll pay extra."
Surely even the Slayer wouldn't disapprove. Bringing the baddie to justice and getting some payback into the bargain sounded like a win-win situation. Plus Spike got to be the hero, save the bloody world, with no effort on his part. Brilliant! He chuckled his satisfaction.
The Fyarl thumbed through the roll of dirty bills. "This ain't half."
"I'll have the rest by tonight and I'll have all the information you need about the target."
A quick call to the hospital informed him that Ben would be on shift that evening. Spike arranged a time and meeting place with his hired gun and then descended into the sewer tunnels to plunder Sunnydale for the rest of the cash.
********
Buffy woke refreshed and ready to face the world again after a long, dreamless sleep. She could hear Giles and Anya arguing downstairs and Dawn's shrill voice piping up every now and then. Dawn! Buffy looked at the clock - 5:20. She hoped Giles had gone by the school and picked Dawn up. The idea of her sister walking anywhere by herself right now made her shudder.
Buffy sat up and instantly felt dizzy and hungry. Ravenous in fact. She headed downstairs to the kitchen from which wafted the mingled aromas of garlic and something made with apples and cinnamon.
"I'm telling you, your sales will only increase if you find out what the customer needs. My suggestion box idea is a perfectly viable business practice and you're only pooh-poohing it because you didn't think of it yourself!" Anya's voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard.
"I did NOT pooh-pooh. I only said I would take it under consideration, which is not the same thing at all." Giles sliced through a carrot with a decisive snap against the cutting board.
"And while you're thinking, we're losing valuable sales!"
"No one ever listens to me." Dawn carried on a parallel conversation with herself as she set the table. "Like, I had that great idea about the glitter pens with feathery tops that say Magic Box on them, and you would pass one out with each purchase, but did anyone ever say, 'Oh, good idea, Dawn! We'll get right on that!' No. Because I'm just a kid and my ideas couldn't possibly be worth listening to...."
Giles sighed. "All right! Put up your bloody suggestion box. Oh hello, Buffy. Just make certain it's tastefully done and placed somewhere appropriate within the store. Maybe back by the..."
"You think I don't know tasteful? I've been around a thousand years, buddy, I know tasteful!"
"And a good afternoon to all of you," Buffy said, as she came into the kitchen and lifted a lid off the steaming pot of spaghetti sauce. She dipped in the spoon and took a taste. Heavenly!
There was a knock at the door, which flew open and emitted Willow and Tara with a gust of rainy wind.
"We come bearing brownies," Willow said, grinning. "The gooey, fudgey frosted kind! From the bakery," she admitted. "We didn't have time to make them. Or a kitchen. Or, you know, ingredients. But the result's the same."
"Also a vegetable tray," Tara added. "The crispy, crunchy, good-for-you kind." She smiled at Dawn as she placed it on the table.
"Buffy, did you send Xander out into this weather to catch his death of cold on some wild goose chase," Anya turned her tirade away from Giles for the moment. "I don't think he even took a coat this morning. And just when is he supposed to eat between going to work and doing your job of chasing down the Knights of Byzantium?"
"Huh?" Buffy paused with another spoonful of sauce halfway to her lips. "I ... I didn't think ... I mean, I didn't know it was going to get stormy this afternoon. I'm sure he won't go if it's like this." She looked at Willow, worriedly. "Will he?"
"He'll do anything you tell him to do," Anya said under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Maybe I should go now and...."
"Nonsense, Buffy," Giles interrupted. "Xander is perfectly capable of looking after himself."
"It's just a scouting expedition, right," Willow added, soothingly. "He thrives on that covert stuff. Likes to pretend he's Bond. When he gets cold and hungry, he'll give up and come home. Don't worry, Buffy."
"But he shouldn't have to get cold and hungry! I better go. Giles, can I borrow a jacket? I didn't bring one."
Amidst the protests of everyone but Anya, Dawn's voice cut like a whiny saw blade. "Jeez, Buffy, stop being such a martyr. Sit down and eat something!" The teenager plopped plates down at each place setting with vigor. "By the way, how's Spike this afternoon? I knocked on his door after school but he didn't answer. Is he still sleeping?"
"I didn't check on him. I imagine he'll bellow if he wants something," Giles replied.
"I'll go see," Tara said. "His bandages probably need changing by now, anyway." She headed upstairs, stealing a quick kiss from Willow on the way past.
"Dawn's right, Buffy," Willow said, watching her lover sway up the stairs and then turning her attention back to her friend with difficulty. "You still look kind of pale. Sit down. Dinner's almost ready, isn't it Giles?"
"Yes, I believe so," Giles said, putting salad greens and carrots back in the refrigerator. "We have vegetable tray, pasta and sauce, and ... Dawn, did you forget your garlic bread?"
"Oh!" Dawn rushed for a mitt, bumping Giles out of her way and opened the oven door to extract a foil wrapped loaf.
"Milk or juice," Anya was standing in front of Buffy with a carton in each hand looking slightly apologetic. "Or soda."
"Milk, please," Buffy said and walked over to the table to sit down. She smiled at Dawn and her sister grudgingly returned the smile, and then turned her attention back to removing the bread from the foil.
Buffy watched her friends, her unconventional family, moving about the simple tasks of preparing a meal. She felt a surge of love for all of them, even Anya, who was now placing a full glass in front of her with a flourish. "Must be hormones kicking in," she thought.
"Um, Spike's not in his room," Tara announced from the top of the stairs. "He, uh, left a note." She descended the stairs as Buffy rushed to up toward her to take the sheet of paper.
"What now! Did he run away from home?" she muttered, scanning the contents.
"Let me see. What does it say?" Dawn abandoned the garlic bread and ran to snatch the missive from her sister.
She read it aloud, "Buffy: Have gone to take care of your Glory problem, so that will be one less thing for you to worry about. I have a foolproof plan. It will all be over soon. See you. Spike."
"Foolproof and Spike in the same context? I don't think so!" said Willow.
"Buffy, he's going to get himself killed! Do something!" Dawn shrieked.
"Oh, that's right, worry about the vampire while my poor Xander's out there bumbling around some fairly dangerous armed men with sharp weapons!" Anya shook her head.
"I don't think Spike could get far in the shape he's in," Tara said. "Could he?"
"With vampiric healing he's probably just fit enough to go out and get himself in trouble," Giles answered. "But I wouldn't worry too much, Buffy. You can still take the time to have a ." He watched the door swing shut behind her. ".hot meal."
**********
Spike slouched in the shadows, leaning against the trunk of a tree, and lit a cigarette, sheltering the flame against the gusty wind. He was posed to look cool and dangerous as he met again with his assassin. Actually it was more a matter of the tree holding up his exhausted body. Hobbling all over Sunnydale to collect the necessary dosh had been more tiring than he had counted on. After visiting a few vamps he knew and leaving them dustier and freer of worldly goods, he had cleared the till at several convenience stores through the fine art of distracting the clerks and snatching the money. It had been a lot easier in the days when he could go right in and snap their necks.
As cool as Spike thought he was, the assassin was cooler. Ersatz materialized out of the shadows right by Spike's side, causing him to jump and then stumble on his hurt leg. The vampire regained his balance, if not his dignity.
"Aren't you the slick one," Spike observed. "Pretty silent for a Fyarl."
"HALF Fyarl," the creature stressed. "Where's my money?"
"Here's $500 more. You get the rest after," Spike said, handing him the cash. "Your target should be coming out any time now."
As if on cue, the hospital exit door opened and staff members coming off shift began trickling out, hunched in their coats against the cold. Spike waited anxiously to catch sight of Doctor Ben Doll, hoping that he hadn't morphed into Glory again by now. Just a window of opportunity. That's all that was needed.
There was a long pause after a trio of nurses came chattering and laughing out of the building, then a lone male emerged. Spike waited while the man passed under a light to verify that it was Ben.
"There's your man," he muttered low to the half-Fyarl. When he got no response, he turned to see if his words had registered. The killer had already vanished.
***********
While Spike took care of business, Buffy looked for the errant vampire and Xander. Short of walking across town calling "Xander!" "Spike!" like they were a pair of lost dogs, Buffy wasn't sure how to find either one. Xander would more than likely be in the large woods at the edge of town where she had suggested he search for the knights, but Spike could be anywhere.
For lack of a better plan, Buffy headed toward Glory's hotel in case Spike had been recaptured. It was a long trek there and about halfway, as she was cutting through Shady Rest Cemetery, she began to feel very woozy and light-headed.
She shook her head to clear it and kept walking, the wind whipping right through her thin shirt. She wished she had taken the time to grab that jacket. After another few yards, the world began spinning around her again. As she tripped over a grave marker and began to fall and her vision started to blacken around the edges, Buffy considered that maybe she should have listened to Dawn and had dinner first.
**************
Ersatz dumped the still-warm body into Spike's arms. The intern's throat had been cut, and though his heart no longer pumped blood from the gaping wound, enough had collected there to give Spike a good long drink. As he tore into the cooling flesh and dined on the life-giving nectar, the vampire was more content than he'd been in a long time. Good food and a good deed all rolled into one neat package.
When he had drained every bit he could from the corpse, he rose and paid off the impatiently waiting assassin. Spike then dragged the body into the woods and dropped it in the damp underbrush. He looked down at the dead intern with pride. Buffy would be so happy when she found out he had saved the day.
On the other hand.... Spike considered the mangled throat and thought that maybe he wouldn't mention the eating part of the evening. It might be hard enough for Slayer to admit that killing the human had been a necessity. He checked his clothes for stains and wiped his face on the hem of Ben's scrubs before heading back toward Giles' apartment.
He strode jauntily through Shady Rest Cemetery, coat flapping behind him, cigarette smoke trailing off into the night. He breathed in a deep lungful of the rain-tinged breeze, sorting out the mingled odors and compartmentalizing them in his mind. Suddenly he smelled something sweet and familiar. Turning his head in a slow arc, he pinpointed the source of the scent and followed it.
When he caught sight of the Slayer's small body crumpled on the ground several yards away, he broke into a run. He started to panic as he drew close.
"She's dead! She finally met something she couldn't handle. She's gone!" his mind screamed as he pelted toward her. He threw himself to his knees beside her, grabbed her wrist and felt for a pulse. It was beating, steady and slow. He cursed himself for panicking realizing that he could've heard it beat if he'd just slowed down and concentrated. But she was unconscious and very cold.
Spike tore his coat off and wrapped it around her, then lifted her frail body and cradled it against him. Her face looked paler than ever against the black leather and her gold hair straggled in damp clumps, which he brushed out of her face. He couldn't locate a head wound or any other sign of injury. Nor could he scent blood on her. It almost seemed like she had simply passed out. He wondered if that indicated a fever and felt her forehead, but all humans seemed hot to him so he couldn't tell if her temperature was above average.
Spike debated taking her to his crypt where he could tend to her personally. He had visions of piling quilts on her, serving her hot tea, and then crawling in bed beside her to keep her warm. But he didn't have quilts or body heat and his microwave was on the fritz. Besides, the crypt was much farther away than the Watcher's flat and a good deal colder. He set off toward Giles' home at a brisk, if uneven, trot.
To be continued...