Made for fun, not for profit. The Buffyverse belongs to Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon, I just like to play there.
"In my experience, there are two kinds of monsters.
The first type can be redeemed, or more importantly,
Wants to be redeemed… The second is void of humanity.
It cannot respond to reason. Or love."
~ Rupert Giles, 'Beauty and the Beasts'
7 - Couch Time
Spike's stomach growled as Sam moved back towards the kitchen. The last time he'd eaten someone was that blond bird in LA when he was waiting for Angel to track him down, and he hadn't finished her off, maybe getting three pints from her before Peaches showed up. He'd headed back to Sunnyhell soon after Marcus buggered off with the Gem of Amarra, and after a short visit with Joyce for some cocoa and a sympathetic ear, he tracked Buffy down. He found her on campus fighting some dime-a-dozen fledge and making bad puns. He had been tempted to join in, maybe take advantage of the scrap and use Buffy's focus on dusting the fledge as an opportunity to get the drop on her, but he decided to hold back, watching her, and he was in mid-plan when the night exploded in blue electricity and the commando wankers grabbed him.
He didn't know how long he'd been in the lab before managing to escape. There were no clocks visible from his cell and no windows, so he didn't have any references for the passage of time except his own hunger. When he broke out he was hungrier than he should have been from just one week without feeding, and he didn't know for sure how long the commandos had in in their lab, but he did have the beginnings of a timeline based on, of all things, Willow and Oz's break-up. Since the werewolf had acted as cavalry for Angel and co, Oz was part of the reason he'd come back from L.A. without the gem. When he was ambushed and captured, it was three nights before the full moon and, from what he'd heard, Oz didn't leave Willow until two days after the full moon. That meant he'd been captive for at least six days. Being on the run and unable to feed for over a week had left him unsteady, to say the least, and jumping out of a second floor window to get away from those soldiers in the Stevenson dorm hadn't helped any. Finding out how much time had passed between Oz's departure and his attack on Willow would tell him exactly how long he'd been in the lab.
"Spike? What'cha doin'?"
He turned around in his seat to find that Sam was looking at him quizzically from behind the breakfast bar. She pointed vaguely in front of him, "Your hands…"
He looked where she was pointing and shook his head, letting out an unneeded breath. Without realizing what he was doing, he had started ticking off the days which he could account for on his hand. He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Just tryin' to figure how long those wankers had me."
She nodded her understanding, then frowned down at something in her hands. "Okay. How long should I zap the blood for?"
"'Bout a minute fifty should do it."
She nodded again and set the timer. "What does the time-frame look like, for when they grabbed you?"
He let his head fall back against the cushions. "Three nights 'fore the full moon." Sitting was definitely better than standing, but he was still so bloody tired. The couch being so damned comfy didn't help matters. Now that he felt relatively safe, all he wanted to do was let his eyes close and grab some kip, but first he had to eat. Of course, he reasoned that there was nothing stopping him from resting his eyes until Sam brought the blood over, so he let his heavy lids fall shut.
The microwave whirred for a few seconds before she replied. "Well, the last full moon was on November eighth, and you were captured three days before that…"
He finished the thought, frowning slightly with his eyes still closed. "So, the fifth."
There was the sound of thick paper moving, which he assumed was a wall calendar or something similar. "Right, and you didn't have any blood till you got here, and Turkey Day this year was on the twenty fifth, so… almost three weeks with no food? Holy shit, Spike. How are you still functioning?"
He smirked but didn't bother to open his eyes or turn around. He didn't need to see her face to gauge her reaction. Sam's worry and surprise were clear enough in her voice. "Vamp constitution, luv. We can go a long time without feeding, but it isn't pretty."
She snorted, and he found the indelicate sound oddly endearing. "Really? I had my money on sheer stubbornness." The microwave beeped, he heard her remove the mug and tried to talk himself into opening his eyes again as her footsteps got closer. She sat down next to him and rested a hand on his arm. "C'mon, Spike. Dinner time." When she spoke, her voice was light and almost cajoling. "There's plenty of time to sleep later."
Spike muttered sullenly, "'M not asleep." He reluctantly tugged his eyes open and was greeted by the sight of a gently smiling witch holding out a steaming over-sized mug of blood.
"Drink up."
He nodded and reached out for the mug, but his hand shook badly and he let out a frustrated breath. "Bloody rot…"
Sam frowned, lowering the mug slightly, and reached into the pocket of her robe with her free hand. "Well, good thing I brought this." She held out a bendy straw for him to see, then unwrapped it with her free hand and her teeth before carefully setting it down in the mug.
Spike was grateful for the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but come on, being fed from a bendy straw? That bit was over and done with when he was freed from the tub… or at least, that's what he had thought. He glared at her. "You can't be serious. I'm not drinkin' from that."
She lowered the mug and her smile faded, but she didn't falter or look away from his eyes. "Would you rather eat your dinner or wear it? Your call." There was that no-nonsense tone again. It almost made him feel like a damned schoolboy.
An unbidden memory flashed across his mind. Stuck in that damned wheelchair, Dru walking towards him holding a terrified, whimpering puppy in her arms.
"Come on, love. You have to eat something to keep your strength up. Now, grrrr, open up for Mummy…"
His own petulant roar echoed in his memory: "I won't have you feeding me like a child, Dru!"
And then Angelus, the giant sod, bloody chiming in: "Why not? She already bathes you, carries you around and changes you like a child."
"Spike?"
Sam had rested her hand on his arm again while he was lost in thought, and a gentle squeeze from her brought him back to the present. His focus snapped to her, guardedly wondering how she would handle this situation. How she would handle him. Would she threaten? Wheedle? Mock? He glared at her challengingly, mentally squaring his shoulders for whatever she had in store.
She stubbornly held his gaze, her face betraying some frustration, but she didn't say anything else, and instead just waited him out. It didn't take long before his glare dissolved completely and he started watching curls of steam rising off of the warmed blood. He leaned forward slightly and took a whiff from the mug, feeling his shoulders slump as his stomach gurgled a demand for food. Hell, he'd never been long on patience, anyway. He muttered, "this is bleedin' humiliating," and leaned forward enough to take the end of the straw between his lips.
"It doesn't have to be." Her smile came back and she used her free hand to give his knee a reassuring pat while he drank. "I won't tell a soul. Or any entities without souls. I promise."
He smirked at the quip and dipped his head slightly to thank her for the promise. While he drank, he assessed her. She was kindhearted, that much was clear from the way she treated him, but she obviously wasn't a doormat type. She was pretty damn bossy, actually. The fact that she had good instincts and a sharp mind almost made the bossy-ness more annoying, since it meant that she was most likely right more often than not, which inevitably meant that whoever was arguing with her would probably find themselves having to admit defeat at some point. He smiled to himself between mouthfuls. He'd have to remember to avoid getting in any more tiffs with this one.
The straw made a series of sputtering noises and she sat up slightly so she could peer into the mug. "All set?"
He sat back and nodded. "Yeah. Was that the last of it?" The mug had taken most of the edge off of his hunger, but he'd need to have more blood in the morning.
"It was, but I'm about to call the delivery guy." She gave the cup a delicate sniff and turned slightly green. "Right after I clean out this little devil." She got up and headed towards the kitchen.
"Luv?"
She paused mid-step, turning to face him again, and he tried not to let the fact that she was answering the endearment get his hopes up. "Yeah?"
He swallowed heavily before nodding to the mug in her hand. He was glad for the blood, of course, but he was even more thankful for how patient and understanding she was with him. Not to mention how nice it was that someone was looking after him, for a change. He didn't know how to say that, not without sounding like a giant ponce, and there was still a tiny, niggling doubt in the back of his mind that despite all the evidence to the contrary, she might not genuinely care about him, so he didn't try to clarify the reason for his gratitude. "Thanks."
She smiled. Beamed, really, and fiddled with the straw. "Lets hope you won't need the straw again." The happy expression faded and she shook her head. "I just wish you didn't make it so hard for me to help you."
He looked away, pretending to resume his search for something worthwhile on telly, and didn't reply. He heard the sink come on, and knew that she was washing out the mug so he wouldn't need to bother with it, and no doubt so the watcher wouldn't make a fuss when he got home. Spike grit his teeth. It was getting harder by the minute for him to not like her.
Sam gave a frustrated breath. "Is that what you're doing? Making it hard on purpose to see if I'll still try?"
His shoulders tensed and he sighed, not turning to face her. Why did she have to be so bloody clever? "Maybe. What if I am?"
She laughed, actually laughed at that.
Spike bristled, hurt and surprised, but before he could come up with an appropriately biting reply, she went on.
"Okay, so you're six times my age and I'm being the mature one." She grinned, shaking her head as the chuckles died away. "That's just fucked up."
By the time he had turned around to glare at her, it was clear that she wasn't really laughing at him. His scowl melted away and he had to chuckle. The girl had a point. "A bit, yeah."
"I'll play along, but only for a while, 'kay? It's not like you're the only one around here who's got issues."
Another image, this time of Sam freaking out at the dinner table, flashed before his mind's eye, and he nodded. "Fair enough."
She finished rinsing the mug and wiped it down before setting it in the drying rack. "Find anything good yet?"
Spike blinked, uncomprehending for a few seconds before the light bulb clicked on. "Right. Telly. Not yet." He turned back towards the living room and started scanning the channels in earnest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam pick the phone up from its cradle and dial what he assumed must be Willow's phone number.
During a short conversation between between Sam and Willow, the elder witch convinced the younger one to stop off at the butcher's after going to the Magic Box for supplies. Oddly enough, Willow didn't seem resistant to the idea of buying extra blood, and she even promised that she would convince Giles to go along with the plan if he seemed reluctant. Sam ended the call and hung up.
"All set. That was easier than I thought it would be."
He watched as she headed back over to the couch. "Red's gonna help?"
She nodded, a vaguely puzzled look on her face. "Yeah. Thought I'd have to make more of a case, but she just agreed."
Spike kept flipping channels, doing his best to keep his eyes straight ahead. "Maybe she just said it so you'd leave her be, an' she doesn't really mean to convince Rupes."
She sat down next to him, shaking her head. "Willow hates lying. Plus, I think she gets what I'm trying to do."
He tried to ignore the fact that Sam's hip was resting against his leg. "Oh, an' what's that?"
In defiance of his silent pleas, Sam leaned against his side and hooked her arm through his. "I happen to believe that helping you and the Scoobies aren't mutually exclusive goals. I want to help you for the sake of helping you, but also because I know it's the best way to find out what you know about the commando guys, and I think that talking about what happened with someone who actually cares might do you some good."
Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. "Is that right?"
"Mm-hmm." Her answer was accompanied by a nod and a soft smile. "And, something else you should know."
"Really, wha-"
She leaned in and kissed his cheek before he could finish the question. His brain put up an 'out to lunch' sign and his voice just plain disappeared.
She sat back and smiled up at him, still touching his knee. "I don't like ambiguity, but I do like you."
All he could do was sit there, blinking and trying to understand what... what the hell… had he misread the situation so badly? Here was a bloody good catch who, as it turned out, wanted him. Actually wanted him the way he wanted her. His eyes narrowed in suspicious disbelief. Was this really happening?
"Spike?" Sam gave a worried frown when he didn't respond. She reached up a hand and gently, ever so gently, tapped her knuckles against the side of his head. "Spike? You still in there?"
His voice came back from its vacation sounding strange and crackly. "I… I thought that… you were just bein' nice…" God, that sounded stupid. It was the truth, though. He had thought that her kindness was, at best, nothing more than friendliness; and at worst, charity or some form of manipulation. Did that mean he was overly suspicious or just thick?
Sam grinned impishly, cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed him again; a quick, chaste pressing of her lips to his before she pulled away. She sat back slightly, stroking his cheek with her thumb and licking her lips before giving a faux-sage nod.
"Well, Spike… you thought wrong." Her voice was matter-of-fact but still managed to be warm somehow. "Now, I'm really tired, so I'm gonna get comfy." Her hand dropped away and she shifted slightly next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder and then looking up at him again. "You okay with this?"
He nodded dumbly, realizing that at some point his arm had wrapped around her shoulders again. He used the limb to draw her a little closer. The gesture was clearly possessive, but if Sam noticed, she didn't seem to mind. "Yeah, luv. 'M better 'n okay." A tentative smile started to tug at his lips as he settled in, allowing himself to relax against her as he nuzzled at her ear. "I'm bloody fantastic."
She shifted enough to meet his eyes and frowned slightly, resting a gentle hand against his chest and fixing him with a worried look. "And I'm not leaning on anywhere you were shot?"
His mouth almost fell open at the genuine concern on her face. The last time that someone he respected had cared so much about making sure that he was comfortable with a situation had been… well, before he was turned, actually. The times when Dru had remembered to look after him when he had been in the wheelchair barely counted, since they usually happened not too long after she and Angelus had been shagging, and Spike could still smell the other male's scent all over his dark goddess. Harmony's clumsy efforts all more or less fell into the 'attention-seeking' category, so they hardly counted, and the various minions he'd put up with over the decades only cared about keeping him happy since it would prolong their own usefulness to the Boss. He gave his head a little shake, more to clear it than in answer to her query.
"I… no, pet. You're fine right there."
She nodded against him. "Glad to hear it. So, ambiguity kaput?"
Spike swallowed, staring blankly at the tv as he tried to make sense of what had just happened between them. He pinched the inside of his wrist. Hard. Yep, not dreaming. Again, this was uncharted territory. Of all the women he had ever cared for or been involved with, each had always been conspicuously lacking in some way. Cecily had been beautiful and intelligent, but cruel. Drusilla was exciting but mercurial and paid more mind to her pixies or, worse yet, to her sodding 'daddy' than to anything else. As for Harmony… well, 'cheap' 'stupid' and 'shallow' were the most charitable words he could come up with for her. But Sam…
This girl, this sane, beautiful, clever, kind girl wanted him. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, and he suddenly realized that he really didn't give a fuck about either. "I think we're both pretty clear, pet." He kissed her hair, needing to let her know how happy she had just made him. "You want me, and I want you."
She smiled into his chest. "Yup, that was my math." A few moments later, she lifted up slightly and tried to twist around.
He watched her curiously, trying not to let his voice show the sudden hurt he had felt when she seemed to be pulling away. "What are you doin', pet?"
Sam gestured at the back of the couch by way of explanation. "Blanket."
He smiled, seeing how the grey and white tartan was pinned to the cushions by their shared weight. "Right. I'll get it for you." He managed to ease the blanket free without dislodging Sam, although he did have to unwind his arm from around her in the process. He shook the wool blanket out and laid it over her, making sure she was covered from chin to toes. "How's that?"
She tugged at the edge of the blanket, flashing a grateful look at him. "Much better. Thanks." A wide expanse of the blanket had settled on the empty area of cushions beside her, and she started pulling on it, gathering the cloth towards herself.
He watched her efforts with a bemused smile and shook his head, mildly curious. "Just what are you trying to do?"
She looked up at him, smiled, and raised her arm up enough to hold out the edge of the blanket, creating an inviting tent of cloth hovering over his torso. "There's room in here for you too. Join me?"
He smiled softly at her earnest offer, slipping his arm back around her as they both settled in. "Whatever you want, pet."
She chuckled into his shirt, draping one arm over his belly while the other found its way between his lower back and the couch cushions. "I'll hold you to that, mister." She hugged him tight for a moment before letting her arms relax into a more casual embrace, her hands clasped loosely together and resting on his far hip.
Before too long, Spike was nearly dosing. The confluence of telly, blood, a comfy couch and his girl, yeah his girl cuddled up next to him under the watcher's blanket had all conspired to lull him into a deep state of relaxation, and he wasn't fighting it. Why should he? He was bloody content. As far as he could tell, there was only one spanner in the works, and he was about to set that right. He just hoped that Sam was still awake so he could sort it. "Pet?"
"Hmm?"
She rubbed her forehead against his chest, catlike, and he closed his eyes, drinking her in as he murmured to her hair. "Sorry I yelled at you, before… when we were by the kitchen. Didn't mean to lose my temper like that. I know you were just tryin' to help me."
She patted his leg sleepily, her words slurring together enough to betray how tired she actually was. "I get it. You were upset. I really don' like bein' yelled at, tho, so try not to do that 'gain, 'kay?"
His throat clenched. Damn, there was his bloody temper, cocking things up again. "I'll try, luv. Last thing I want to do is upset you."
"Thanks. Never had a glare-off with a vamp in gameface before, so that was new." She yawned into his shirt and then nodded against him. "I'll try not to upset you, either. The yellow eyes are okay, but I like you better with blue eyes."
Oh. Huh. In all the fuss, he'd forgotten that he'd been in gameface while they were shouting and staring daggers at each other. And even confronted with demonic ridges, fangs, growling and yellow eyes, she hadn't backed down. Hell, she hadn't even lost steam. She kept trying to help him until he gave in and let her. That, more than anything else, convinced him just how much she really cared about him. He smiled. She was bloody stubborn, and she wanted him. Well, best to let the lady have her way, innit?
She cuddled closer to him, clumsily hitching the blanket up over her shoulder before continuing with her sleepy drawl. "So… now we're on the same page, does it mean you're done bein' so prickly?"
He tugged the blanket up to cover her better and ran his fingers through her messy curls. "Yeah. Round you, at least. No more yellin' or bein' prickly."
"Kay." She smiled against his chest and gave a happy sigh. "G'nite, Big Bad."
For some reason, the way she said it, with more genuine fondness than due deference made him grin like a loon. He pressed a kiss to her hair and held her close. "Night, Sam."
A while later, the end credits were rolling on a movie which Spike had paid almost no attention to. He'd been doing something far more important: he was memorizing. Memorizing the way light from the kitchen played over Sam's hair, the delicate curves of her face, how she smelled of cinnamon, herbs and soap. He took a moment to turn off the telly, and then resumed studying the slumbering girl who had nestled into his side, her head pillowed just below his shoulder. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest with each breath, listened to the steady lump-thump-lump-thump of her heartbeat, and he gave a completely unnecessary sigh as he closed his eyes and let his head tilt to rest against hers.
No point in fighting it.
He was done for, and he really didn't mind.