I don’t own the Buffy characters.
A/N – in case you’re wondering, Angel lost his soul when he saw that Buffy was unharmed. Or rather, that’s when he had his moment of happiness. In the show, the soul loss was a bit delayed, so it was here as well, though perhaps took a little less time than in the show.
Beta’d by Always_jbj. Thank you!
(Yes, I am sneak editing, replacing my rushed chapters with beta’d chapters.)
Spike froze in his tracks, his mind racing as he stared at Angelus.
Angelus grinned at him. “What, boy? Seen a ghost? Not happy to see me?” He walked a couple paces and clapped Spike on the back. “Don’t worry. It’ll be just like old times,” he said maliciously.
Angelus’ eyes rested on Buffy. “Such a nice welcome home gift too, boy. You shouldn’t have.” He laughed. “No, strike that, you should have. After all, I’ve never tasted Slayer blood before. Something we’ll have to remedy, won’t we?” He walked over to Buffy and ran his hands roughly down her body, leering at her.
Spike saw the sheer horror and incomprehension in Buffy’s eyes. It was obvious she didn’t know what had occurred. Spike wasn’t sure that he knew what had occurred either. But Angelus was back.
Angelus removed the gag. “We’ll just get rid of this, won’t we? After all, I haven’t heard you tell me you love me yet today. Why don’t you, Buff? Tell me how much you love me.”
Buffy knew something was horribly wrong with Angel, but she couldn’t understand. She went over the events in her mind. His soft, loving brown eyes had stared into hers, then he was bitten by the goth skank, then he collapsed and now he was staring at her with anything but love in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it wasn’t love.
“Angel?” she whispered.
“No, lover.” He trailed one finger down the side of her face. “Angelus. We’ve yet to meet, really. But we’re going to have a very good time. I promise you that.”
“Angel, what are you talking about?” Tears welled in Buffy’s eyes. “Why are you acting like this? You’re scaring me…” she finished softly.
He shrugged. “That works for me too.” He turned back to Spike and Drusilla.
Walking up behind Dru, he embraced her then produced a stake from his jacket. “You know, you’ve been a little too nutty for a little too long, Dru. It’s getting on my nerves.” He grinned at Spike and drew his arm back as if he were going to stake her. Dru remained passively still in his arms, unafraid. Spike, however, leaped at them. His instinctive reaction to protect Drusilla outweighed his earlier thoughts about her lack of loyalty. He went for the arm with the stake and Angelus brought the other around with a sharp knife, embedding it in Spike’s chest.
The blow sent Spike to the ground, and though it wasn’t fatal, it kept him down long enough for Angelus to push Dru away and savagely kick Spike in the ribs. Gleefully, he continued kicking the downed vamp, until Spike was battered and bleeding; unable to move. Angelus yanked his head up by the hair, “You think I don’t know what you were going to do, boy? I do. You should remember I’m always a step ahead of you.” He yanked harder as Spike’s eyelids drooped and he started to succumb to unconsciousness. “You should remember the consequences of going against me, too. But it looks like I’ll have to remind you.” He shook his head in mock sadness.
“You’re so easy, Spike. Threaten Drusilla and all caution for yourself goes right out of that feeble brain of yours.” Putting his arm around Drusilla again, he said, “I’d never stake my girl.” Drusilla beamed at him. “You know, Drusilla and I have a little catching up to do before I deal with you two. You just think about that and I’ll be back for both of you when we’re…finished.” With that parting shot he went to the door and opened it for Drusilla before sauntering through himself and locking it from the outside.
Buffy was still in shock at the way Angel was behaving, but she blinked away her tears and looked at the beaten vampire on the floor below her in horror. Spike had been reduced to a mass of cuts and bruises. She could see that Angelus had been very thorough. The pool of blood on the floor from the original stab wound just kept growing bigger and bigger. ‘How much blood can a vampire lose?’ she wondered. ‘Would it kill him to lose it all?’ She half expected Spike to spontaneously burst into dust at any moment.
She bit her lip, anxiously. ‘Ok, Buffy, think. Angel’s gone crazy and you’re chained up. Of the bad. Both things. Very bad.’ She turned on “slayer mode” and refused to dwell on the change in Angel. She had to escape and then she could mope and mourn as much as needed. The fact that her friends had no idea what had happened and Angelus had access to some of their homes terrified her. ‘Oh God, and to mine…Mom…’ She panicked. She had to get free. ‘Ok, so, locked in a room with an evil, possibly unconscious vamp I can’t defend myself against. Bad again. He could help himself to the Slayer blood bar anytime since he really has no reason to keep me alive now.’ She frowned, knowing this wasn’t getting her anywhere, and tried to think of a positive.
She couldn’t. There was no way to free herself from the chains. She couldn’t hurt Spike even if she could get free. She couldn’t run away even if she could get free. ‘Great.’
Then an insane thought crossed her mind. She saw again Spike’s tortured, clear blue eyes as he watched Drusilla earlier and made a decision. She had nothing to lose. It was crazy, but waiting around for Angelus to return wasn’t a very good idea. At worst, she’d have a clean, quick death. She didn’t know why, but she thought Spike would give her that, at least.
She thanked the Powers That Be when she spotted a sharp edge on the rusted metal bracket jutting out of the wall near her right wrist. ‘Probably get tetanus.’ She thought dryly, ‘Oh right, won’t live long enough to get tetanus. Here goes.’ Holding her breath she slashed her wrist against the metal, wincing. Scarlet dripped from the wound and she tried to angle it better, attempting to pour it into the senseless vampire’s mouth.
Frustrated, she was close to tears again when she realized she couldn’t pull her wrist far enough out to get the blood to Spike. She’d just given up straining out further when Spike’s eyes twitched and opened slightly. He inhaled deeply and achingly slowly edged towards the small puddle forming on the floor. Lapping at it, his head cleared enough to realize something was dripping on his head. When he saw her wrist dangling bleeding above him, he reached for the dregs of his strength and hauled himself up the wall, nearly crumpling to the floor again when he put weight on his left leg.
‘Broken,’ he thought sourly. ‘Sodding great git.’ Even the small amount of blood he’d ingested was helping though, and he came to his senses enough to understand what had happened.
Buffy met his curious gaze evenly. “Drink it before it closes. Drink it. I help you and you help me.”
Understanding dawned on Spike and he stared at her briefly before he nodded and reached for his pocket. He saw Buffy’s body slump a little in relief as he pulled out the key to her manacles. Fumbling with hands that were broken and not working properly, he cursed softly, but managed to get her wrist free. She then supported him and helped him reach her other arm.
Lowering him to the floor, she took the key from him to unlock her ankles.
When she’d done that, she paused a moment, studying him where he lay, eyes half closed with the effort he’d expended and then gashed her wrist again, re-opening the swiftly closing wound. “I need your help,” she said calmly. Hoping she was doing the right thing, she knelt and held her wrist to his lips. “I can’t take both of them.”
Spike sighed and drank gratefully, feeling the powerful blood rushing through his body, healing him. He winced as bones began to knit. He’d known she’d taste sweet… and she did.
Buffy watched, partially disgusted and partially fascinated as Spike drew her blood from her body. The fascination came from witnessing the effect of her blood on him. She felt an odd sense of pride as the bruises faded before her eyes, leaving his skin smooth and unbroken. Without thinking, she reached her other hand out and drew her fingers across his sharp, unmarked cheekbone, tracing the spot that had, moments before been bashed, torn and bleeding. She was awed at the transformation.
He stopped drinking and looked at her. She noticed the blackened circles around his blue eyes had vanished then flushed under his gaze and looked away. They didn’t speak. He returned his attention to her wrist and resumed drinking.
She didn’t feel what she’d seen between Angel and Drusilla. No overwhelming lust, no desire. She idly wondered if this was because Spike hadn’t actually bitten her, or because it was her wrist, not her neck or if it was because there was nothing between them. She didn’t know, but she was relieved. She hadn’t been sure what to expect. Suddenly, she shivered, the delayed effects of the multiple shocks hitting her all at once.
Spike raised his head. “Am I hurting you?” His voice was low and rough and for some reason brought on another attack of the shivers.
“No,” she said softly, but her face was pale and her voice trembled.
He licked the wound gently and lightly kissed her wrist before placing it in her lap. “Thanks, luv,” he said, raising himself to a sitting position slowly.
“No, it’s ok,” she protested. “Do you need more? You need to be strong and we don’t know when he’s coming back.”
Spike leaned wearily against the wall and let out a bitter chuckle. “If I know them, they won’t be back soon.” He turned to look at her and saw the anxiety on her face. “I took enough. Can feel it helping. I’ll be fine. Need you strong too.”
Buffy shivered again and he pulled away from the wall, removing his duster. He draped it around her shoulders. “Shock,” he said. “Along with the blood loss. If we had something for you to drink, you’d feel better faster, but we don’t.” He paused, thinking, evaluating. Dru and her daddy would be at it for hours. For the first time ever, he hoped it was a long session.
“C’mere,” he said, reaching for her. She shrank away from him, alarmed. “Not going to hurt you,” he said patiently. “You need to rest a bit, Slayer.” He used the returning strength in his arms to draw her to his chest and pressed her head down to his shoulder. “Rest now. I’ll keep watch.”
Buffy didn’t think it was possible to fall asleep in the arms of her enemy while waiting for her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now, she corrected herself wearily—to come and possibly torture her to death, but oddly, as soon as Spike’s arms closed around her, she felt safe and so, so very sleepy.
Spike cradled the sleeping slayer in his arms and couldn’t help but admire her bravery and brains. Here she was, in an unwinnable situation, torn apart by the betrayal of the wanker and instead of giving up she pulled herself together, formed a plan and took an immense risk to implement it. He hadn’t been sure she’d trust him enough to sleep, but she’d managed that as well. Committed to her plan, he supposed. He brushed a stray hair from her face. ‘Remarkable bird, really.’
His thoughts turned dark as he contemplated what the great git most likely had planned for her and he found himself relieved that she’d done what she had. For some reason the thought of her bruised and broken body wasn’t the pleasant thought it had been. She’d saved him as well, he thought. Angelus would’ve put him through many more beatings and worse before staking him had Buffy not offered her blood.
For that Spike would make sure she lived. He felt the rightness of his decision as he made the silent promise to her. ‘You’ll survive this, pet. I’ll see to that.’
The sweet taste of her blood lingered on his tongue as he watched her sleep, a curious fondness for her forming inside him. He pondered the miraculous healing power of Slayer blood as he realized the stabbing pain in his heart was dulling too.
“Wake up, luv,” Spike said gently but insistently. “I hear voices. I think they’re coming. Speak softly or they’ll hear us too.”
Buffy’s eyes fluttered open and she raised her head, brain still muzzy with sleep. Becoming aware of her surroundings, she sat up, fear rushing through her as she remembered her situation. She eyed Spike warily. Shrugging off the duster, she nudged it in his direction.
“’S ok, luv. We’re still on the same side,” he said to her as he stood up and put it on. “Look, not much time now. Best get ready.” He reached for the knife Angelus had left behind. “Too bad he took the stake with him.” He frowned, handing her the knife. “Least it’s something.”
“What about you?” Buffy asked.
He morphed into game face, grinning at her. “I’ve already got mine.” He shook it off. “No problem there. He pulled a dirty trick before. Won’t fall for it again. I can take the poof.”
Buffy looked down at the knife in her hands uncertainly. She noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. Angel was clearly evil, but she didn’t know how she could dust him; even an evil him.
Spike saw it and steadied her hands with one of his, using the other to raise her chin and make her look at him. “I know. Feel the same way about Dru.” He met her eyes. “But if it’s us or them—which it is…” He trailed off meaningfully.
Buffy straightened. She pulled her hands from his grasp and brought the knife down suddenly. Spike flinched, even knowing that she couldn’t hurt him, the sudden act had startled him.
But she wasn’t attacking him; she was attacking the dress she wore, cutting the bottom of the fabric off at the knees and shoving the knife into his hands to hack the back. He did so and returned it to her.
“Better,” Buffy said grimly and Spike knew she was ready.
Still, he tried to break through the mask of deadly calm that had come over her, teasing, “Too bad. Liked it on you. Much more ladylike than the scraps of nothing you usually wear.”
She rolled her eyes at him and said, “Sooooo last century,” then paused for effect, “Oh, like you. No wonder.”
He grinned at her, but they both tensed as they heard footsteps outside the door. They took up positions on either side.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/202993.html