A/N: This story picks
up right after Entropy,
so obviously the Spike/Buffy part of Seeing Red did not take place for
the purposes of this story...but otherwise, just assume that everything
else from the end of Season Six happened just as in canon, with the
exception of Spike going to get his soul...Hopefully I'll fill in some
gaps and feel free to ask about it if something doesn't make
sense...and
if it's not a part of the mystery I'll do my best to *make* it make
sense! J
6. Trembling
Trembling,
terrified, the wounded vampire
waited anxiously on his knees on the floor of the cave, awaiting the
command of the powerful woman kneeling beside him – his savior...or his
destroyer...
He couldn't know which just yet.
He wished that she would tell him what to do – or even do something to
him herself – anything just to let him know what it was that she wanted
from him. Clearly, she did not want him to do as his captor had
required of him, on the infrequent occasions when he had actually
removed his chains – though never for long, and always only to further
brutalize him.
*On your face, you disgusting thing! Don't move! Don't you *dare* look
at me!*
It had not mattered to the man that Spike could not even see – let
alone deliberately look at him.
Spike shuddered at the memory of the menacing words, his trembling
intensifying slightly. All he wanted was to find out what she wanted
him to do – what he could do to please her – to avoid the punishment
that he knew was in her hands to mete out.
It had been difficult for him to understand what was expected of him,
from the man who had brought him here, kept him here; he had not been
able to understand the words spoken to him, and therefore had no idea
what the sharply spoken orders he had been given had meant.
But he had learned.
*On your knees! Don't get up! Shut up that whining, you little nothing,
or I'll give you something to cry about! I said *don't move*!*
Each order had been punctuated with violence. Beaten and screamed at
and forced into whatever position his captor had wanted him in – he had
finally managed to comprehend what he was supposed to do. Thus, the
instant that this woman had removed his chains, Spike had fallen to his
knees on the floor, his face to the ground, submitting to her without
hesitation.
But apparently – that was not what she wanted from him.
A new sense of fear came over him as he simply waited, helplessly –
wondering.
Then – what *did* she want?
******************************************
"It's okay – it's all right, Spike," Buffy whispered gently, careful to
keep her voice quiet and even.
She frowned, concerned and confused as without any real cause that she
could see, he began shaking harder, his entire body visibly wilting –
poised at a moment's notice to fall directly back into the submissive
pose she had stopped him from before.
It hurt her heart more than she could believe to see him like this.
No matter what hurtful things had passed between them – she knew that
the damage she had done to him far exceeded the pain he had caused her.
Whatever remaining anger she had held to him, over Anya, over his
disappearance – all had vanished in the moment she had seen him,
chained there in that cave.
Her immediate instinctive reaction to his obvious fear was to reach
out, to touch him, to put her arms around him and offer him what
comfort she could with her embrace – but she was also afraid to touch
him, for fear of hurting him; she was not even sure she could find a
place on his body to touch him that was not injured.
And she was not altogether sure that her embrace would be welcomed at
the moment, anyway.
"Just wait a second," she murmured soothingly, though she knew by now
that he did not understand her, as she took her cell phone from her
pocket. "I'm just gonna call..."
Her voice trailed off, as she realized suddenly – she had no idea *who*
she was going to call.
Xander?
No. After what had happened between Spike and Anya, Xander's hatred of
the blonde vampire – which had been obvious for a long time, even
before that – had intensified, until she knew that there was no way in
the world that he would be willing to help Spike, even for her sake.
He would most likely just tell her to stake him and put him out of his
misery, if he was so bad off.
Riley?
*No,* she decided, feeling decidedly uncomfortable at that idea. Riley
had never understood her reasons for allowing Spike to live at all,
even once he was chipped and helpless. That, added to the whole
jealousy factor, what with Riley's wanting to get back with her, and
knowing about her history with Spike...
No...Riley would not be willing to help.
She found herself wishing desperately that Giles was there. While her
Watcher might not agree with her as to the urgency of helping Spike
right away, he would certainly not refuse, not after all that Spike
*had* done to help them over the past few years – not if he knew how
very important it was to *her* to save his life.
But Giles was *not* there – and it was becoming more and more clear
with each passing moment, that Buffy was going to have to handle this
on her own.
For one brief moment, she even considered calling her little sister.
Dawn had managed to convince Buffy to let her stay home alone that
night while she patrolled, so barring any of the typical teenage
scheming that Dawn was so good at, she should be at home right now. The
sixteen-year-old was learning to drive, and doing well – and for one
insane instant Buffy considered calling her and telling her to bring
the SUV.
But no – Dawn's shaky driving skills aside, there was no way that she
could let her little sister see Spike like this – not without preparing
her for the shock of it.
*Looks like I'm out of options,* she thought grimly, closing the phone
again and starting to put it away. *I can't leave him – whoever did
this might come back – and I don't think a taxi'd come all the way out
here...though at this point I'd gladly pay someone to...*
Her eyes widened with a sudden flash of inspiration.
*Anya!*
She hesitated for just a moment, before quickly making her decision and
dialing the number for Anya's new apartment. A few weeks ago, she had
been unable to avoid going into the Magic Box, in need of some supplies
to defeat a particular type of demon, and knowing that the little shop
was likely the only place she could get what she needed.
It was the first time she had seen the ex-vengeance demon since that
last encounter outside the Magic Box, that night when Anya and Spike
had...
It had been a terribly uncomfortable reunion.
Anya still ran the store, with minor assistance and advice from her
silent partner in England, but she kept her distance from what was left
of the old Scoobie gang – which was, basically just Buffy, Dawn, and
Xander.
Still, she had given Buffy her telephone number, and had asked her –
rather awkwardly – to "please let her know if anybody got eaten or
otherwise killed by a demon – because even though she felt too weird
around them all now to actually hang out, it was still the sort of
thing she wouldn't like to not know about."
And strangely enough, despite the unusual way Anya had of expressing
herself – Buffy knew exactly what she meant.
That was the good thing about Anya – there was never any mistaking how
she truly felt.
Buffy had no problem with the girl, really. She had been angry with her
immediately following the incident, yes – but it had not taken her long
to realize that of all the people involved in the situation, Anya had
done no wrong whatsoever to anyone. She had already been dumped by
Xander at the time, so she was not being unfaithful to anyone.
She wasn't even being thoughtless or inconsiderate to Buffy –
considering that she had had no idea of what had been going on between
Spike and Buffy at the time.
*Which was absolutely a big fat nothing! You'd broken up with him --
remember?*
Buffy reminded herself sternly, a sense of guilt coming over her as she
thought back to that night, back to the pain and desperation she had
seen in the eyes of the little ex-demon, as she had stared up at
Xander, venting her anger and indignation at his presumption, to tell
her who she could and could not be with, now that he had already let
her know that he did not want it to be *him*.
Pain that she had seen, clearly mirrored in the deep blue eyes of the
vampire she had broken.
And now – someone else had broken him.
Buffy turned her head to look again at the fearful blue eyes of the
kneeling vampire, now sightless, but still so very expressive. He was
shaking violently, his entire body tensed in expectation of some move
from her – some action or command.
She had none to give him.
"It's okay," she whispered, edging nearer to him, while she waited for
Anya to pick up the phone. She reached out a gentle had toward the only
place on him she could see that did not bear some mark or injury – the
back of his hand, which was pressed against the cold stone floor beside
his rail-thin, trembling legs.
"It's all right, Sweetie," she repeated almost unconsciously, closing
her hand gently over his.
He jumped at the unexpected touch, but did not pull away from her –
though her soothing tone, the soft repetitive movement of her thumb
across his cool, rough skin, did seem to calm him a bit.
With a weary sigh of resignation, Buffy was about to hang up the phone,
when the eighth ring was suddenly cut off halfway through. A brief
muffled sound of a scuffle was heard on the other end, as if someone
was having difficulty actually getting the phone to their ear. A moment
later, Anya's sleepy voice was heard in her ear, demanding and
irritated.
"Do you even *know* what time it is? I don't know all that much about
it, but I'm pretty sure most humans would consider calling at this hour
very rude. I have to get up early in the morning and make money. Who is
this?"
"It's Buffy."
There was a moment's stunned silence on the other end, Anya's tirade of
annoyance cut off in an instant. Clearly, she had not expected to be
hearing from the Slayer anytime soon.
"I – I'm sorry. About – waking you," Buffy found herself stammering,
suddenly unsure of what to say. "It's just – well..."
Anya's voice was suddenly clear and tinged with a note of panic, as the
only reason she could think of for Buffy to be calling her at this late
hour suddenly occurred to her.
"It's Xander, isn't it?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly with
her fear. "Oh, my God! Is Xander hurt? Buffy, is he dead?"
"No, no!" Buffy assured her quickly, her eyes widening with horror.
"He's – fine, Anya, that's not – I mean...I need your help."
Anya was quiet for a long moment, obviously as surprised by those words
as she had been to find out who it was calling her.
Buffy held her breath for a moment, hoping that Anya would not ask too
many questions, not need too much explanation – because she wasn't
really sure how much longer she could hold on to the fragile grip she
currently had on her emotions. She had no idea how much Spike was
actually capable of understanding at the moment – but it hardly seemed
right to discuss his condition over the phone, right in front of him –
and she didn't want to, either.
Buffy's voice must have said what she could not have put into words at
the moment – because after a moment, Anya spoke, her own voice quiet
and resolved.
"What do you need, Buffy? What's happened?"
"I need you to bring your car down here, right away. It's – it's Spike.
He's hurt – bad." Buffy paused, attempting once again to control her
rising emotions – but then giving up as she added in a tearful,
pleading voice, "Please – there's no one else I could call..."
"I'm gonna help you already, Buffy, just tell me where you are!" The
impatience in Anya's voice only made her concern that much clearer.
Buffy felt her own body begin to tremble as she explained to Anya where
she was, and where to park her car, and how to find them.
"Just – follow the trail of green demon goo," she instructed weakly, a
little grimace on her face, followed by a sheepish, "Sorry."
Anya shrugged it off and hung up the phone, after assuring her that she
would be there in no more than fifteen minutes.
The Slayer hung up the phone, put it away in her pocket – and collapsed
forward, rocking slightly on her knees, weeping with relief.
Tears of relief turned into tears of fear and confusion and emotions
that she could not even begin to put names to – until she felt
something that made her go still, stunned and hopeful and not quite
believing it was possible...but...
It was!
She looked down, wide-eyed, at her trembling hand that covered Spike's,
to see that he had turned his hand under hers, and was gently stroking
his fingers across her palm in a gesture of comfort. She raised her
startled eyes to his – almost disappointed to see them as sightless as
ever – wondering at the reaction that she would not have thought
possible from him, with the state he was in.
His head was bowed slightly, his eyes wide and intent, though aimed
randomly at some point on the floor just beyond her – and she could see
the concern, the confusion and uncertainty in his face that her tears
had provoked. He did not seem to understand why she was upset, or any
of what was going on for that matter.
But he *did* understand her tears – and was attempting to do what
little he could to soothe them.
"Spike," she whispered, an ache of sorrow and sympathy and gratitude
all rolled into one overwhelming knot of emotion, tightening in her
chest. "Oh, Spike...you never change, do you? You'll always..."
She shook her head, her voice trailing off, as her eyes flooded with
fresh tears. Once again she felt the desire to wrap her arms around
him, to pull him close to her and hold him, until all this pain and
misery just magically faded away.
But she knew that it was not to be.
Spike needed much more than comfort and affection to heal from whatever
horrors he had lived through during the past few months. She did not
know exactly what had been done to him, but she was not even sure that
a complete recovery was going to be possible at all.
But that small, simple action on his part had given her hope that just
maybe – maybe – it was.
She dared not do as she wanted so badly to, afraid as before that she
might hurt him, or frighten him with the sudden movement – but she
gently squeezed his hand, before relaxing her grip to hold it
comfortably in hers, still whispering meaningless words of comfort to
him all the while, as they waited in silence for Anya to arrive.