Hushed Demon

Disclaimer: I own a Mike and a new (to me) Jeep.

Summary: Spike doesn't deal with being hushed very well.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: The 'Gentlemen Song' from the last chapter was a direct rip off from the original episode. In other words, it belongs to Joss and was used without permission.

An old fic of mine 'Spike's Angel' has been nominated at the Harem of Spike Awards. Hugs and kisses to the lovely who did it. Thank you! Whoever you are!

WayWard Childe: miss you Luv.

Communications chart:

'xx' - thoughts

"xx" - spoken words

#xx# - written notes

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Wednesday morning, Summers house….

Joyce woke slowly and stretched languidly before throwing the covers aside. She frowned at the silence from monitor sitting on the bedside table and listened carefully for any indication that her vampire was awake. The faint clink of his chain as he shifted and the sound of his unnecessary breathing were all that she could hear. She smiled at the thought that he was still peacefully asleep. She didn't notice that the breathing was a little faster than it should have been. A quick check of the clock told her that she had time for a shower before needing to get the girls up for school.

A short time later, refreshed and dressed, Joyce picked up the monitor and went into the hall towards Dawn's room. She knocked on the door and called out to her youngest. No sound came from her mouth. Dawn's door swung open and the teenager rushed out with panic in her huge blue eyes. Joyce moved further down the hall and hammered on Buffy's still closed door. The Slayer yanked her door open almost immediately. The three of them stood in the hall frantically attempting to make each other understand what they were trying to say when Buffy's green eyes were drawn to the white plastic in her mother's hand. The unmistakable sound of panicked panting was emanating from the tiny speaker.

In the basement….

Spike felt that something was wrong. Frowning, he slowly sat up on his narrow cot and braced himself against the wall. He gazed around the brightly lit basement trying to see just what it was that was different from yesterday. Nothing seemed to be amiss so he relaxed fractionally as he recalled the previous day. Joyce had been down to see him early in the morning to ply him with a pile of warmed blood bags. She'd returned to talk to him after her daughters had left for school. She'd told him that she'd taken an emergency leave from work in order to care for him because she felt she could do a better job of it than the Slayer and her friends. They had carefully avoided any in-depth discussion of his captivity.

The sound of his own voice had unnerved him a little but she'd been right there with a hug to reassure him it was quite all right to speak. The day had sped by after he'd succumbed to his vampiric nature and gone to sleep practically in mid-sentence. He'd been jarred awake late in the afternoon by Dawn clattering down the steps with a tray of blood in her hands and a fountain of gossip spilling from her lips. A smile crossed the vampire's handsome face as he remembered the slight shock of seeing the faint green sparks that flashed through the air around the teenager. He paused for a moment to wonder about that. He didn't remember seeing them before.

A shiver slid down his bony spine and he cast another searching look around the basement. This time his gaze landed on the sender to the baby monitor Joyce had shown him the previous night. She had told him that if he needed anything at all he merely needed to speak up and she'd hear him. She'd explained about the silencing spell on the basement but that she could hear everything with the monitor and that she had no intention of letting it out of her sight. He opened his mouth to ask quietly if she was awake and …. Nothing. Fear slid through his mind.

'What the hell?' He thought. He tried again with the same result. 'I knew it.' He covered his face with his hands. 'See what happens when you trust humans? Damn it, Spike. You knew better. It was a trick. The slayer must have convinced Joyce that helping me is wrong.'

Another thought struck him and he began to shake. Had he finally gone mad? Had he dreamed all of it? Was he now living in a delusion engineered by those people? Had they been watching all this time? Allowing him to regain a small sense of safety only to yank him back to that place and begin again? Or were they all in on it now? Had the influence of those people gotten so widespread that the Slayer and her group were now part of it? Had he imagined Drusilla?

His unnecessary breath sped up until he was panting nearly uncontrollably. His thoughts raced unchecked. One wild idea chased the next until he no longer knew what was real and what wasn't. He pressed both hands over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise as it echoed through the spacious basement. The clinking of his chains seemed extraordinarily loud to the panicking demon. He pulled his knees up to his chest and began to rock gently back and forth in a futile attempt to self-comfort. He kept his palms pressed firmly over his mouth. There was nothing that could keep the tears from spilling from his eyes. Desperately, he tried to shove his thought processes back into hiding so that when they came for him he'd be the mindless demon they'd wanted him to be.

It wasn't that easy. Now that he'd been allowed to be a faint shadow of his former self, his basic nature rebelled at returning to his submissive state. The thoughts he was trying so frantically to contain ran through his head like a runaway train on a downhill track.

'Nononono. Can't go back, can't take it again. Have to find a way to dust myself first. Stop thinking, Spike. It'll go worse on you if you don't get it under control. Sodding slayer. Hate her. Want to kill her. Stop thinking you stupid git. Joyce, home, safe. No! Not safe. It wasn't real.' Horror filled his thin body when he heard footsteps on the stairs. 'They're coming.'

Whoever it was descended slowly. His nerves stretched screamingly tight in an agony of anticipation. He squeezed his eyes even more tightly closed and pressed his palms that much harder over his mouth. He didn't want to see, didn't want to know. He tucked his elbows into his ribs in an attempt to become as small a target as possible. Scalding tears slipped down his thin face. Terror had him shaking from the top of his two toned head to the tips of his bare toes. The footsteps crossed the cement floor and stopped directly in front of him.

Giles' apartment, a little later….

The pounding on the door woke Giles as he and Michael had been up very late researching. The books were still open on the table with empty tea cups and small plates interspersed with the ancient texts. He pulled his t-shirt down over his sleep rumpled head as the door rattled in its hinges.

"Just a bloody minute!" He stopped with his hand on the doorknob in shock as he realized that he hadn't made a sound. The wood shook once more under the force of the knocking. He heard Mike running down the stairs and turned to wait for him.

Mike tilted his head and peered at the Watcher curiously. He raised a slender hand and pressed it to his throat. Opening his mouth, he tried to make a sound. He shook his head and lowered his hand. The renewed thundering on the door made them both jump and Giles, with a nod to Michael to stay back, slowly opened the door to admit his Slayer.

Buffy had detoured by Sunnydale University and collected Willow. The redhead carried a box filled with small dry erase boards with markers attached to one corner with string. A tiny eraser was velcroed to the bottom edge of each board. The blonde held up her board.

#I had a slayer dream yesterday. Guess I should have tried harder to find you.# The message was written in tiny letters in order to fit in the small square.

The Watcher grimaced and nodded. Willow handed him a board and he scribbled his reply.

#I was out helping Michael with his disguise.#

Both girls swung their gazes to the soldier waiting patiently to one side. He smiled at the blatant disbelief on their faces. He knew he'd managed to change his appearance considerably and, by their expressions, it had been an effective attempt. He ran one hand over his hair with an abashed smile. Willow held out one of the message boards for him to use. She wrote a quick note and held it up.

#What happened to you??#

He smirked and jotted down his answer. Giles was intensely curious to note that the younger man was left handed. A fact he hadn't noticed the night before during their extended research session.

#Some hair color, pair of contacts, nothing much. Is it ok?#

Both girls ran their eyes up and down the slender figure of Giles' guest. His smoky blue/gray eyes were now dark green. His hair had been dyed to a deep burgundy color and spiked. The gel that they'd put in it the previous day still holding firm taming the natural curl. He wore small diamond-like earrings in his previously unpierced ears. Instead of his uniform, he wore snug faded blue jeans with the knees ripped out and a tight black t-shirt. A chunky silver bracelet hung from his left arm and a watch attached to a studded black leather band encircled his right wrist. A heavy silver chain circled his neck. He looked nothing like the soldier they'd met the other night.

To Giles, it looked as if the younger man hadn't gone to bed as he looked much the same as he did when they'd said good night only a few hours ago. Michael looked over at the older man and quirked an eyebrow inquisitively. The squeak of marker on plastic drew both men's attention.

The girls had each written their reaction to Mike's transformation on their boards and were holding them up like Olympic judges.

#WOW!#

Mike blushed as he grinned. Uncomfortable with the attention, he used the miniature eraser to clear his board and scribbled another message. #What's a 'slayer dream'?#

Giles held up his hand before Buffy could try to squeeze her story onto the tiny board. He moved over to the table and sorted through the debris until he unearthed a pad of paper and a pen. He handed them to the Slayer and directed her to a chair at the table. Her pretty face twisted into a grimace but obeyed the silent order.

Across town, Harris basement…..

Xander was pulled from his restless sleep by a hand shaking his shoulder roughly. He opened his hazy eyes to see his new girlfriend Anya; her dark brown eyes were wide and panicked. He sat up and grasped her shoulders to still her frantic movements. He could see her trying to speak but nothing was coming out of her mouth. He frowned.

"What's wrong?" He tried to say but, as with Anya, no sound came from his mouth. A chill of fear crept down his spine. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight, running his hand up and down her back soothingly. When she'd calmed down a little, he allowed her to back off until she was sitting on her heels several inches away. Her frightened eyes remained fixated on his face as he tried to think. He could see her continuing her efforts to say something so he gently placed a finger over her lips, stilling their movements. He gazed around the sparsely furnished basement searching for … there, on the end table next to the phone where he'd left it, was a pad of paper and a pencil. He pointed at it and raised his eyebrow inquiringly. Her huge eyes followed his gaze. She frowned for a bare second before lunging across the sofa bed to snatch the items from the table. Quickly she scrawled a note.

#What's going on?#

Xander gave her a look that said more clearly than writing. I've no clue. But took the pad and pencil from her and replied.

#I don't know. Need to get you to Giles's.#

Biting her lip in consternation, Anya took back the paper to write again.

#What about you?#

She handed the items back and he wrote for a few minutes before returning them.

#I should go see if Mrs. Summers needs help with Spike.#

He'd filled the ex-demon in on the developments of the past few days the night before. His biggest concern was keeping her safe from the Initiative. It was one of the reasons he'd insisted she stay the night. He didn't want to consider what they would want to do to someone who'd been a thousand year old demon. Her eyes widened even further as she nodded.

Xander gently but firmly pushed her off the bed, got up and handed her the blouse that had landed on the lounger a few feet away. Neither of them liked the unnatural silence that encompassed the dingy room so they dressed as quickly as possible. In just a few minutes they left to meet up with the rest of the Scoobies.

Summers basement….

Spike huddled on his cot and waited, trembling, for harsh hands to grab him and drag him away from the safety he'd been foolish enough believe he'd found. He could hear the human in front of him breathing. He kept his forehead buried in his knees and his hands pressed firmly against his mouth. There was nothing he could do the prevent the tears that were pouring down the sides of his face so he settled for keeping his eyes squeezed closed and hoping they would send him into unconsciousness before the punishment became too horrific.

He jumped badly when fingers ghosted across the platinum tips of his curls. Slender fingers slid softly over his head to the back of his neck to curl against his skin. A shudder wracked his thin body. Another hand tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear and he felt the fingers of it trail along his jaw. A firm, persistent pressure under his chin tipped his face up. The first hand moved from his neck to his wrist and tugged gently, trying to pull his hands away. He gave only a token resistance before obeying the unspoken command. Warm fingers brushed the tears from his upturned face and a soft kiss was pressed onto his forehead. His eyes popped open in shocked reaction to the kiss. Joyce's concerned face hovered inches from his own. She smiled soothingly and brushed her fingers across one damp cheekbone. He blinked at the tender expression on her lovely face.

A new set of footsteps made their way down the stairs. Spike peeked over Joyce's shoulder to see the youngest Summers carefully carrying a tray of warmed blood. A pad of paper leaned against the plastic packs. Spike tilted his head in Joyce's grasp so he could read the words written on the paper. Struggling to make sense of the printed message, he frowned with concentration. When the words finally made sense, relief struck so hard he grew light-headed.

#None of us can speak. Don't know why. Don't be afraid. We'll take care of you.#

The vampire heaved a shaky sigh and nodded. Joyce turned away to help Dawn set the tray on the chair they'd been using as a table. He used the opportunity to roughly swipe at the moisture remaining on his face. Angry with himself for doubting Joyce and ashamed that, for the second time since he'd returned to himself, Joyce had seen him crying.

Dawn stood away from the cot and gazed soberly at her vampire friend. Her crystal blue eyes scanned over the thin, hunched form. He'd let his legs drop so he was sitting Indian style on the narrow bed.

'He looks so much smaller than he did before.' She thought sadly. She zoned out as memories of the 'Big Bad' floated through her mind. His smirk when he knew someone was looking at him, his smile when he didn't think anyone could see, the way he swaggered with his leather duster floating out behind him, the pleasure in his dark blue eyes when Joyce gave him extra marshmallows to go with his hot chocolate. A clink from his chains brought her back and she blinked. Her mother was sitting on the cot next to Spike combing her fingers through his unruly hair gently, heedless of its not-so-clean condition, as she watched him go through his poke/sniff/drain feeding ritual. A thought occurred to the teenager so she grabbed the paper and pencil from the tray. She scribbled for a few seconds before she reached out, touched her mother on the shoulder and showed her the note.

#Now that he's better, can we take the chains off?#

Joyce tilted her head as she considered the question. Then she nodded decisively. She'd insisted that Giles leave the key where she could find it. Spike gazed at her with shock in his wide blue eyes. She smiled at him and ran her fingers down his pale cheek. The vampire swung his awestruck gaze to Dawn and blinked. She grinned. His eyes fell to the pad of paper in her hands. The teenager glanced down at it before she held it out with a question in her eyes.

Spike flipped to a clean page and held the pencil in his left hand uncertainly for long minutes. Finally, as the two females watched, he slowly wrote a question. A frown creased his forehead as the mechanics of writing a simple note nearly overwhelmed him.

#I don't want to be any trouble but do you think I could have a shower?# The vampire handed the note to Joyce hesitantly as if fearful he would be punished for being so forward.

Joyce's hazel eyes prickled with tears that she refused to shed as she read the shakily formed words. She knew his handwriting to be so much more elegant and formal than the childish letters he'd worked so hard to form. She'd seen his struggle to read the simple note she'd written to allay his fears. What kind of monsters were they that they tortured even the most basic of skills from him? With a pang of guilt, she took a really good look at his appearance. His clothes were worn nearly threadbare and stained with dirt and blood. His fingernails, which she'd never seen any way other than neatly trimmed and pristine, were ragged and filthy. His hair had been matted until her finger-combing had loosened the worst of the snarls. Before his capture, she'd never seen him appear anything less than clean and well-groomed. She watched as he let his eyes drop to his lap and he began to nibble at his chapped lower lip with white human teeth. She flushed as the thought occurred that she should have let him clean up the day before. He'd fallen asleep while they were talking so it hadn't crossed her mind.

Joyce took the pencil from Spike's trembling fingers and added her answer below his question.

#Of course you can. I'm sorry I didn't think of it sooner. I've treated you horribly.#

His sapphire eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. He grabbed the pad back and nearly snapped the pencil in his intensity. Laboriously, he wrote his rebuttal.

#NO! Treat me better than I deserve! Feed me, keep me safe. Brought me back - wasn't worth the effort--#
Joyce's hand darted out and pulled the pencil from his grasp mid-sentence. Spike closed his left hand in a fist and hid it under his leg. His eyes closed as his chin dropped to his chest and he turned his face to the side in mortification.

Dawn moved to the cot, sat on the other side of Spike and slid her arm around his waist. She read the written exchange and her huge blue eyes flooded with tears. Spike jumped in surprise when the warm droplets hit the thin denim of his jeans but otherwise didn't move.

With one hand, Joyce pulled the clenched fist out from under his tense thigh. With the other, she placed gentle fingers under his chin and slowly but firmly made him face her. Waiting patiently until the thick dark lashes lifted, she watched his face carefully. When his gaze finally, timidly met hers, she smiled. Releasing her hold on him, she took the pad of paper and scratched out his last note. Underneath the scratched out portion, she wrote:

#Let's get you free and clean. I think I have some clothes that you can wear until someone can go buy you some new ones. Might not be what you're used to but will be clean and warm.#

Spike's stunned gaze lingered on the words free and clean. Two feelings he had not known for so very long. He had all but given up during his captivity. His hopes of freedom had gone away with his consciousness, leaving the way clear for the demon to take over and allow the monsters who'd had him free reign to do whatever they'd wished. 'Oh my god.' He thought wonderingly. 'It's real. It isn't a dream. I'm here. I'm home.'

Giles' house…..

It was inevitable, Giles supposed, that Xander would show up with Anya in tow. They had been seeing each other for several weeks and the ex-vengeance demon had been trying very hard to fit in with the Scoobies. The couple accepted their message boards with grateful smiles.

Anya's dark eyes ran up and down Michael's transformed appearance with an appreciative gleam. Xander frowned at her. He scribbled a note to Giles.

#I'm going to Buffy's to see if Mrs. Summers needs help with Spike. Okay?#

Giles nodded and guided Anya over to the sofa, handed her a small stack of books and the list of possible scenarios that would fit the current problem. Once she was settled, he picked up his own board and made a silent suggestion.

#Take Mike with you.#

The brunet glanced at the soldier who was exchanging messages with Willow before transferring his gaze to his wide-eyed girlfriend, who was watching the two redheads with ill-concealed interest. Xander's whiskey hued eyes turned back to his father figure and nodded briskly.

The carpenter walked over to Willow and Mike. His life-long friend bounced up and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He returned the hug briefly and released her before catching Michael's gaze. Xander erased his board and wrote a new note for Mike.

#You're coming with me. Let's go.#

Later...

It had taken both females quite a while to coax Spike up the stairs and into the kitchen. The vampire had been too shaken to finish the tray of blood that Dawn had so carefully carried down the steps so they'd taken the leftovers back upstairs and finally gave the recovering blond a mug to sip from. Spike sat at the table and traced the wood grain of it with the tips of his fingers. This was where his conscious mind had retreated to leaving the demon wholly in charge, this kitchen, at this table. Distractedly, he watched his fingers trace the polished surface. The sounds of his companions faded into the background while he contemplated the wonder of actually being home.

Another mug inched its way across the table into his line of sight. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as the scent of hot chocolate reached his nose. Miniature marshmallows were melting into a frothy cap at the top of the steaming, milky brown drink. Joyce's hazel eyes sparkled when she noticed the smile trying to spread across his pale face. Bliss transformed his features as he wrapped chilly fingers around the hot cup. Dawn's eyes stung with unshed tears as she watched the wonder lingering in the sapphire eyes of her best friend.

Spike brought the cup up to his face and inhaled the sweet scent. His eyes closed of their own volition as he took his first sip of hot chocolate in far too many months. It was inevitable that he'd drain the cup in seconds as his companions watched in amusement. Joyce's fingers itched for a digital camera when he lowered the mug revealing a melted marshmallow mustache. He frowned when both of them nearly collapsed in silent laughter. The puzzlement vanished when a dampened paper towel was presented by a grinning teenager. He blessed the lack of circulation that kept him from the blushing that had plagued him as a human. As it was, he ducked his head shyly and quickly wiped away the evidence of his treat.

Joyce slid the mug he'd been using for blood back in front of him, brimming with fresh blood. Spike allowed his demonic features to appear as he raised the cup to his mouth. Dawn scooted her chair closer to him. The sudden noise of it startled the skittish vampire and the hand tipping the mug to his lips twitched, spilling the viscous red fluid down his face to drip from his chin onto his shirt.

Dawn's hand flew up to her mouth in shock. She grasped the vampire's arm in concern. He turned golden eyes to her as he scowled. The teenager scrabbled for the paper and pencil.

#I'm so sorry!#

He bared bloody fangs at her and she squeaked. Or she would have if she'd been able to. As it was her eyes grew to anime proportions. The warnings from her mother and Giles echoed in her head. 'He's dangerous. He can't be trusted to be as he was the last time you saw him. We must be very cautious around him.' Behind him, Joyce tapped him lightly on the back of the head. He turned indignant golden eyes to the older woman and she wagged her finger warningly. Dawn sighed in relief when she realized that the vampire was teasing. Joyce pointed to the ceiling in an obvious reminder that he needed to go upstairs to shower.

Feeling much more like his old self than he had in a very long time, Spike paused at the kitchen door to leer once more at the silently giggling girl. Still in game-face, he sauntered toward the stairs while he used his thumb to wipe the still dripping blood off his chin.

A blur was his only warning before a hard fist connected with his face and slammed him backwards into the wall next to the kitchen door.

TBC