I really like challanges and prompts, so if there’s a specific theme for something, I want to run all the way with it. Unfortunately the initial “Truth or Dare” story I came up with ended up being…several chapters long, and sorta on the very unfinished side, and so I went with this completely different (obnoxiously fluffy) one-shot instead. But I do still want to post my first thing, so, be ready for me to clog the feed around the free-for-all days!
Title: The Vampire’s Gambit
Author/creator: violettapirateq
Era/season/setting: Mid-Season 6 (Wrecked, specifically)
Rating: PGThe book Spike reads from is Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. :P
Thanks for reading! Super excited to do this for the first time!
“Dawn!”
Buffy barely registered anything besides the smoking car, besides her sister’s bleeding and broken body in the passenger seat. Everything else was in a haze around her, like a camera drifting out of focus. Willow lying on the ground, sobbing and blinking and bleeding, Spike taking Buffy’s shoulders and trying to steer her attention away from the wreckage, the big hairy demon that Buffy only really hit once before it apparently decided to stop bothering her. Or maybe Willow and Spike had stepped in to take care of it.
She didn’t know…just yanked Dawn out of the car… just screamed her name over and over, feeling tears well in her eyes, stroking her hair out of her face, and oh, there was so much blood, too much blood, always got to be blood…
Somehow, someway, people were called. Somehow Xander appeared to take Willow home, and an ambulance came to whisk Dawn and Buffy off to a hospital. Somehow Tara had apparently been summoned to stay with Willow so Xander and Anya could come and wait with Buffy, and somehow Dawn was operated on and Buffy was taken to a room. And then the camera finally pulled into focus, and Buffy was back in her body, back in the real world, sitting in a chair and looking up at a doctor who seemed to be patiently explaining something to her. Something he’d likely already told her.
“I know she looks bad right now,” he was saying, and Buffy turned her head to see that it was true. Dawn looked so pale, and so bony. Her hair was completely flat, and very messy, and there were awful tubes and bandages all over her. She was unrecognizable. “But she’s stable, and she likely will suffer no lasting effects from her physical impairments. When she wakes up however, we’ll be able to see whether there’s going to be any further damage.”
Further damage. “Like what?” she heard a voice say, and it turned out to be her own.
She felt Xander’s hand behind her, squeezing her shoulder. “Like brain damage,” the doctor said. “Memory loss, PTSD… from what we can see she’ll be fine, but we’ll need to do another evaluation once she’s able to answer our questions. She may also disturb some of her injuries when she starts moving, so we’ll need to keep an eye on that, too.”
“But she will wake up?” Still her voice, Buffy realized.
The doctor just smiled. “We have no reason to think she won’t.”
That wasn’t a yes, and Buffy knew it. But then he was gone, and there were no more questions to ask.
“Buffy,” Xander said gently, and Buffy finally turned her head, and raised his eyes to his. He was giving her a concerned expression. “Come on. We’ll take you home.”
“We’ve been here for hours and hours,” Anya informed her. “Well, you and Xander have. I’ve made many coffee trips.”
Coffee. Buffy licked her lips, and was barely able to taste the lingering bitterness. “I want to stay,” she said.
Xander’s concerned look deepened. “She won’t wake up for a while, Buff. She’s okay for now. Come on, you can come back tonight.”
Buffy shook her head, swallowing painfully. Her eyes were burning. She must have been crying. “I want to stay,” she said again.
“Buffy,” Xander crouched down in front of her chair. “Hey. Look at me.”
Buffy dragged her eyes from Dawn’s prone form, and did as he asked. “Willow’s in a really bad way,” Xander said slowly. “And Tara’s doing us a huge favor by agreeing to watch her. We need to go home, and be there, for both of them.”
“I can’t leave her,” Buffy whispered. “What if she needs me, what if she—” she stopped, and sniffed. She wasn’t there for her mom. If she’d been there for her mom, she maybe could have saved her. She got there too late. She couldn’t make the same mistake, not with Dawn. She had to be there for Dawn.
Anya tugged Xander’s arm. “Come on,” she said. “Buffy’s right, she can’t do anything more for Willow than she can do for Dawn, so she might as well stay here if she wants to.”
A spasm of anger crossed Xander’s face as he looked at her, but then he sighed, and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “You need to sleep at some point though, and I’m gonna bring you some food before I go. Promise me you’ll eat it?”
Buffy nodded dully, and Xander stood up, and kissed the top of her head, before taking Anya’s hand and leading her away. Buffy was dimly aware of a sandwich in plastic wrap and another coffee being deposited into her lap, along with a vague request of if she needed anything else, to which she replied with a shake of her head. She did nibble at the sandwich, and drank the coffee in slow sips until it was gone.
And then she sat, and watched her sister.
Her legs started getting restless after the third hour of watching, and she walked slowly around the room, never taking her eyes off her sister for long. She opened the blinds in the window, and then closed them, and then adjusted them so they were half open, with only streaks of light coming in. She watched the light for a while, watched the way the shadows falling into the room changed. She watched the beeping monitor next to Dawn, and studied the charts on the edge of her bed, trying to fill in the blanks of medical jargon by using context clues from the rest of it. She went to the bathroom twice. And then she went back to sitting, this time on the little couch by the door. It was hard and uncomfortable, and the ugliest shade of green Buffy had ever seen. She wished she could cover it up. Dawn wouldn’t like that color, and how awful to wake from a sort-of coma after almost dying in a car crash, and seeing that color? Buffy hoped that by sitting on it she could at least hide some of it.
An orderly showed Tara in as the shadows were starting to deepen, and Buffy guessed it was getting to be late afternoon. The orderly examined Dawn briefly and left again. Tara was holding a backpack and an armful of magazines. She put everything down, and sat on the couch to put her arms around Buffy and hold her close. Buffy let herself lean into Tara’s embrace, but she didn’t have the strength to lift her arms and return it.
“I’m so sorry,” Tara whispered. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t left Willow…”
It wasn’t Tara’s fault, and absolutely no part of Buffy blamed her for this. Tara hadn’t introduced Willow to magic, and Tara had tried to leave because Willow’s magic was getting to be too much for her. Maybe the rest of them should have done the same. But Buffy didn’t have the strength to say that, either.
Tara let go, and stood up to go look at Dawn. She stared at her for a long time, sniffling on occasion, and stroking the girl’s cheek. Then she turned around, and picked up the backpack, which Buffy suddenly recognized as one of Dawn’s. “I brought…some of Dawnie’s things,” she explained quietly. She pulled out two of Dawn’s stuffed animals, and tucked them into the bed with her. “There’s…uh…some necessities in there, too. And a change of clothes. I don’t…know when they think she’ll need them, but…”
“Thanks,” Buffy managed to whisper.
“And I brought her some things to do, in case she’s bored,” Tara said. She pulled out a Harry Potter book, and some CDs with a player, and placed them on the table by Dawn’s bed. “I put her homework in there too, but only so I could say I did the responsible thing,” she said, with a weak smile.
Buffy couldn’t return it, and Tara placed the magazines on the table by Buffy. “Those are for you. Do you need anything else? Coffee? Something to eat?”
Buffy shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Tara paused and then frowned, studying her. She pushed Buffy’s hair out of her face, and looked at her closely. “Have you slept at all?” she asked quietly.
Buffy looked away, and Tara sat down next to her again. “Xander says you haven’t left,” she said slowly. “He said you were here all night, and all day. You were…you’ve been awake this whole time?”
“If something…” Buffy’s voice was raspy, and she tried clearing her throat. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Buffy,” Tara said, gently but firmly. “You need to sleep.”
“I’m fine. Slayer. Don’t need it.”
Tara was silent for a while. “You know visiting hours are almost over. They’re not going to let you stay.”
A panicked expression stole over Buffy’s face. “They can’t… I’m her family, I can stay if I want to, can’t I?”
Tara sighed. “I’ll talk to someone.” She was silent again. “Does Spike know she’s here?”
Buffy blinked in surprise, and raised her head, looking into Tara’s eyes. “I… don’t know. He was there, when we found her… I don’t remember where he went.”
Tara gave a slow nod. “I called Giles,” she said. “He—I asked him to come back. Willow’s very sorry, and she wanted to make sure I told you that. She actually wanted to come herself and see Dawn, but we wouldn’t let her. She wants to stop… you know, abusing the magicks? But I know how hard it is to quit, especially when it’s not… like a physical addiction that we can just keep her away from. She needs help, real help, more than I can give her. I’m hoping Giles can.”
Buffy swallowed, and felt tears pricking her eyes again. She trusted Willow, she would have trusted Willow with anything…but lately all Willow had done was break that trust. Bringing her back, erasing their memories, and now nearly getting her sister killed? She didn’t want to think about Willow right now. Everything was falling apart, and she couldn’t think about anything right now that wasn’t Dawn.
“I’ll be back tomorrow if I can,” Tara whispered. “Buffy. I’ll make sure they let you stay here, but please… try and get some sleep. They’ll know to come if something’s wrong, I promise.”
“Thanks,” was all Buffy managed, but she made no promises, because she knew she wouldn’t keep them. She drew her knees up to her chest, and ignored the magazines Tara had left. She watched the shadows deepen and give way to total darkness. No one came to tell her to leave, no one came to check on Dawn, and Dawn remained perfectly still.
Buffy gradually became aware of a presence standing in the doorway next to her, but she waited until it wasn’t just a dim realization, and then snapped her head towards it.
And there was Spike, leaning on the door jamb, thumbs hooked in his belt. Watching her.
In the light behind him, she could still see the bruise on his chin… much fainter now than when she’d last seen it, but still a reminder of what they’d done. The broken house, where she… and where he’d then… and where they had both proceeded to…
And a fire suddenly blazed up inside of her, and she lowered her legs to the ground, sat up straight, and glared at him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“What do you think?” he asked. “My best friend is in hospital, and I’m not gonna pay her a visit?”
“She is not your best friend,” Buffy hissed.
He smirked, but she could see the genuine concern in his face. “Really. May I remind you, Slayer, that we have nearly five bloody months of history together that you simply weren’t around for.” He pushed himself off the doorway, and strode in, stopping by Dawn’s bedside. Buffy saw him tilt his head as he looked at her.
“Stop that!” she said.
He turned to her in surprise, and even in the darkness she could faintly see his eyes glittering. “Stop what?”
“Looking at her, everyone keeps looking at her,” Buffy said. “She’s not a museum artifact, she’s just asleep, why can’t everyone just stop looking at her?”
Spike was silent, and then he carefully stepped towards her and reached a hand out. She flinched away from it, but all he did was turn on the lamp on the little table beside her. A soft glow filled the room, chasing out most of the darkness, but still hiding the harshness of it being a hospital room. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, pet, I don’t really want to state the obvious, but isn’t that what you’ve been doing since you were brought here? Watching her?”
Buffy didn’t really feel like that warranted a response. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said. “Visiting hours are over.”
“No one saw me,” he said proudly.
“Spike, they have cameras everywhere. Your hair alone would draw attention to you.”
“Just shows how very good I am at sneaking in then,” he said, grinning, and curling his tongue behind his teeth. “‘Sides, you’re here too, aren’t you?”
Buffy didn’t think that really warranted a response either.
Spike shoved his hands in his pockets and stood directly in front of her, watching her. She didn’t meet his eyes, and just folded her hands in her lap.
He gently knocked the toe of her shoe with his. “Haven’t gotten any kip, have you?”
She groaned, and sighed. “Spike, I think I’m being very generous to not throw you out. If you’d like that to continue being the case, then you won’t give me the speech about how I should really try and sleep. I don’t want to, okay? Not until I know she’s going to be okay.”
She glanced up at him, ready to refute his next comment, but he just nodded amiably. “Right then.”
She raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Really? Just like that?”
“You’re right, I would rather not be thrown out of here,” Spike said. “Least I can do is keep this vigil with you.” He sat down next to her, on the hard, ugly green couch, and the thought briefly flitted through Buffy’s head that, as long as he was helping hide some of its ugliness, she supposed he could stay there.
He sat, silent and motionless, for a bit, but she knew that wouldn’t last for long. He was a vampire, and this vampire in particular got fidgety. She herself hadn’t been able to go too many hours before needing to get up and move around, and she was sure it would take even less time before he stirred.
She was right, but when he moved, it wasn’t exactly what she’d thought. She sat back against the couch, and he carefully put an arm around her shoulders.
She stiffened. “Spike, don’t even try and–”
“Now don’t get all twitchy on me,” he chided gently. “Just offering a bit of cold comfort is all. Doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”
She thought about arguing with him, letting him know that she was on to him, that she knew he was just trying to put a move on her, but she found herself relaxing instead. And laying her head on his shoulder. She was furious with herself for constantly being unable to resist him these days, but if he really wasn’t going to try anything—and he wouldn’t, not if he valued his undead hide—then at least she wouldn’t do anything with him that she’d regret later. She hoped not, anyway.
Spike started stroking her arm, slowly, and Buffy pulled up her legs so that they were almost under her, letting herself lean on Spike as much as she could. He was more comfortable than the couch, anyway, and her body was starting to feel heavy with a fatigue that insisted she not get up anymore. Spike shifted obligingly, sliding part of the way down so that he was sitting in the most convenient position for Buffy to drape herself on top of.
He held her close, tucking her head between his cheek and shoulder, and continued slowly rubbing her arm. She placed that arm loosely across his chest, and busied herself with watching how it rose and fell steadily with his breathing.
“Why do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?” he asked, in a soft, rumbly kind of voice.
“Breathe.”
He gave a brief chuckle. “Habit, I reckon. Hard to break after doing it for a hundred years.”
Buffy watched her arm for a while, until she realized that she was way too invested in matching her breathing with his, and slid her arm off, tucking it back with both hands in her lap. She felt like she was betraying Dawn, and returned her attention to that.
Spike shifted at the change, and looked towards the table by Dawn’s bed. He gently pushed Buffy aside and stood up to grab the book. He studied it for a moment as he sat back down, before he asked, “Can I read to her?”
Buffy gave a soft snort as she settled herself under his arm again. “You want to read to her? Like, out loud?”
“Well, unless she has any telepathic abilities I’m not aware of.”
“She won’t be able to hear you anyway.”
He shrugged. “Theoretically coma patients can hear if you’re reading to them.”
“She’s not a coma patient!” She said it too loud, shattering the calm softness of the room, and Spike instantly fell silent, squeezing her closer.
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, I just meant―but I’ve got to keep myself from going mad with boredom anyhow, so I’d like to try. And maybe she’ll get so annoyed with me she’ll wake up, eh?”
Buffy could feel her lack of energy starting to catch up with her, and arguing with him seemed too monumental a task. She just puffed out a sigh instead and murmured, “Yeah. Okay.”
Spike lowered the book to his lap, and flipped it open with one hand. Buffy studied it carefully… she knew she’d read this one. Once. It was the first one in the Harry Potter series, she was pretty sure.
There was a bookmark tucked in a page near the beginning, and Spike dutifully started at the top of that page. Which Buffy was slightly annoyed by, because she couldn’t possibly remember how this book started so how dare he not start on the first page… and then she was even more annoyed that she was invested in this. She didn’t care. He was reading to Dawn, not to her.
“A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appearing so suddenly and silently you’d have thought he just popped out of the ground,” Spike was saying, in a voice so deep and soft that Dawn probably couldn’t have made out the words even if she was awake. Buffy only could because she was right there… because the words seemed to be reverberating through his chest straight into her ears…
“The cat’s tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles…”
Buffy knew she should get up. Her stomach was starting to let her know, for the first time, that it was hungry, and she knew if she asked Spike to get her something from the vending machine, he would.
But she could wait another minute. Because she was very comfortable, again for the first time since she’d been in this building. Spike’s hand stroking her was so very gentle, and his voice was so very lilting. She could feel her pain draining out of her, and her worry, and even her exhaustion, and she knew she would let that all back in when she stood up. Which she deserved, of course. Her poor sister was lying in that bed in a world of pain, and Buffy felt wrong to be so comfortable. So she was going to stand up. Any second now.
“…had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now…”
Buffy closed her eyes, just to see if she could hear him better, and oh, that was even more comfortable. She could pretend, this way. Pretend that none of it was real, and it was just her and the voice that was so rumbly and soothing. Of course this was even more dangerous, and as her head slid towards Spike’s chest she knew there was something… something she wouldn’t let herself do… and she just needed to open her eyes again so she could remember what that something was…
She dimly heard the voice taper off as a kiss was pressed to her forehead. And then there was nothing.
***
She didn’t want to wake up. She could feel something soft tucked around her, and a strong arm was draped across her back. She kept her eyes closed as long as she could, holding on to the haze of being half-asleep until it disappeared completely, and then, very reluctantly, she cracked her eyes open, and found that she was lying sideways, her head resting on someone’s scratchy, jeans-wearing thigh.
A blanket was covering her, and there was a heavy hand on her head, faintly scratching at her scalp. She stirred, and the scratching turned to stroking. It felt so good, and Buffy wavered for one moment, close to just falling back asleep and letting the world disappear again.
But then she realized just who was holding her, and everything came flooding back. She sat bolt upright, letting the blanket fall off her shoulders, and looked at Spike.
“Hey.” A pale light was beginning to come through the window. Spike was watching her warily, but he gave a soft smile.
Buffy felt an anger surge up in her, an anger too intense to act on, too great to satisfy just by hitting him. She felt herself trembling instead, and rose unsteadily to her feet, going over to look at her sister again.
“She’s fine, love.” She heard Spike stand up and walk over. “No changes.”
Buffy turned horrified eyes back to him, and then she shoved his chest with both palms. He stumbled backwards, and lowered back down onto the couch. “How could you!” she snapped. “I should have known, shouldn’t I? When you dropped it that easily, I should have suspected something was up!”
He was giving her almost a sad look, but there was a tiny smirk that slipped in as well. “Haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Buffy was infuriated. She was going to have to spell it out for him. But she couldn’t very well do that, because if she did that, it would mean… it would be admitting…
That he had that power over her.
“You let me fall asleep,” she finally said. His smirk grew even broader, and Buffy felt angry tears in her eyes. “You knew… that’s what you were trying to do.” Her mind went back to the arm-stroking, the cuddling, the reading aloud. That hadn’t been for Dawn at all. “You were trying to get me to fall—”
“You needed it,” he interrupted. “And I was right here. Ready to wake you in a moment should anything have happened.”
She stood, glaring, with a quivering lip, while he just calmly returned her gaze. And then Buffy let out a sigh, and slid down back onto the couch next to him. “I told you I didn’t want that,” she whispered harshly. “And you… you traitor, you knew your voice was gonna…”
She choked on the words, and broke off.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “I mean, no—not that part.” He sighed. “But yeah, I knew I could probably get you to nod off.” She turned to him, and he was watching her earnestly. “And I knew you weren’t gonna let me stay if you thought that’s what I was here for, either. But, love, you were awake for nearly forty-eight hours, and a fair bit of that was spent fussing over your little sis. Gone on much longer, and you would have been admitted to a room here.”
Buffy looked away. And then realized something. “Tara sent you here.”
“She might have suggested you’d appreciate a fresh pair of eyes, yeah. Don’t think this was quite what she had in mind, though. Reckon she fancied me sending you home.”
“And that’s why you were able to sneak in,” Buffy said slowly. “Because Tara told them to expect you.”
Spike didn’t say anything, but her suspicions were confirmed in the look he gave her.
Buffy let out a choked sob, and leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. She sat quietly for several moments, letting the tears drip down her face, until she felt Spike’s tentative hand on her back.
She swatted it away. “No,” she said. “Don’t think you get to try that again.”
“Didn’t mean to make you feel betrayed, love,” he said. “But I’m not about to apologize for it.”
She looked at him again, and he was staring at her in that specific way… the look that was completely free of suggestiveness, and expectancy, and was just… love. And it had felt amazing, and… and now that she was taking a second to think about it… she did feel better. A lot better, actually.
She sniffed, and dammit, but she couldn’t resist him. Again. She threw herself forward, crashing her lips onto his.
He breathed in sharply through his nose, in surprise, it seemed like, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing her waist with both arms, and kissing her fiercely in return. She poured all her frustration into him, and all her anger and worry and what remained of her exhaustion, and he eagerly lapped it up, almost pushing her backwards with how intently he was leaning in. As if he was trying to take even more. His lips continued tugging hungrily at hers, and she lost herself so fully in the kiss that she almost forgot to take a pause. She eventually remembered to come up for air, and he let her pull away, but only for a second, and then his lips were back, and she offered no resistance. She fell back completely, and he fell on top of her. Her fingers danced up his arms until they’d buried themselves in his hair, and one of his hands began trailing up her jeans, before finding its way under her shirt.
And that’s where she had to stop him. “Spike…” she gasped, reluctantly pulling away again. “There might be cameras…”
He growled impatiently, and pressed even harder into her mouth for one long second before tearing his lips away. He ran his hand over the hair that she’d mussed up, and she began adjusting her shirt.
And then a moan came from the bed, and Buffy instantly jumped up and rushed to her sister’s side. “Dawn?”
Dawn moaned again, and opened her eyes a slit. “Buffy?” she asked, her voice cracking. She coughed, and then frowned. “Spike…”
“Hey, Nibblet,” he said softly from behind Buffy.
“What…” Dawn coughed again. “Am I… is this a hospital?”
“You’re okay, Dawnie,” Buffy said, and gave a delighted laugh, putting her hand on Dawn’s arm. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Dawn closed her eyes, and swallowed. “Were you guys like totally making out just now or did I dream that?”
Spike chuckled. “Just trying to wake you up, Bit.” He moved towards her, and bent down to kiss her cheek.
“Okay, that’s enough, don’t crowd her,” Buffy said, but she kept her voice light as she pushed him away. “Go, make yourself useful, let someone know she’s up.”
“So you can invite the Scoobies here and then conveniently crowd me out? No bloody thanks.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m not inviting anybody here. I definitely didn’t invite you.”
Spike pouted, and turned to Dawn. “You won’t kick me out, will you, Little Bit?”
“No way,” Dawn murmured, closing her eyes. “Best friend totally trumps sister. I’m on your side.”
Spike gave Buffy way too smug of an “I told you so” look, and she pushed him away again. “Go,” she said. “I want to make sure she’s all checked over before…” she stopped.
“Before what?” Spike asked.
Buffy blushed. “Uh… before I go home for a few hours. If you’re okay staying with her, I mean.”
Spike blinked, and then a radiant smile broke out on his face. “Yeah?” he asked softly. Buffy pointed towards the door, and he grinned and strode out of the room.
Buffy watched him leave, and heard the rustling of sheets behind her. And then her sister said, despite the scratchiness of her voice, “You guys sounded really into the makeout sesh. It’s a good thing I woke up, or you might have gone to sixth base right here at my deathbed.”
“Shut up, Dawn.”
Originally posted at: https://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/728511.html
