Subject: [SpikesSalvation] Friends and Strangers- Chapter 2
Date: Tue, 4 Nov 2003 18:18:29 -0800 (PST)
From: Jerusha Hancock <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com
To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com

September 17

The crypt was finally back to its pre-hiatus state. It had taken
some work to get it there, but the man in him had wanted it
clean, wanted it right. Some small part of him housed the idea
that perhaps Buffy would just stop by some night, and it would
be like it was. If she did he wanted to impress her. A bigger
part of him acknowledged that it was a futile wish, and that her
presence made it that much more difficult to hang on to what was
left of his sanity. The dreams had been particularly bad the
last three days. Reliving every moment of that scene in her
bathroom, everything he'd ever done to her, or tried to do. Even
now he was attempting desperately not to give into the madness
that threatened. Angel had never made it seem this hard. Spike
hadn't figured getting his soul back would hurt this much, but
then again, he hadn't really thought he'd had anything to be
sorry for either besides that little scene with Buffy. It was
all a matter of perspective.

Spike finished setting his TV up and turned it on, seeing with
some satisfaction that it was still working. He froze as he
heard the sound of a girl screaming. His feet were moving before
it even registered that that's what he had heard. The sound tore
through the night air again and he shifted direction toward the
source. It was nearby, and it wasn't long before he saw what had
caused it.

Spike took in the scene at one glance. Young curly-haired woman
pressed up against a large white tombstone, pale face even paler
in the moonlight. Three vampires holding her tightly, waiting
for their turn to feed. One misplaced stake outlined dimly on
green grass, not yet wet with dew. One small trace of dust
already drifting away on the slight breeze. He didn't even pause
as he ran onto the scene, grabbing the biggest vampire by the
collar of his shirt. "Why don't you try biting someone your own
size?" he suggested, snarling. With answering growls, the other
vampires were on top of him in seconds.

A feeling of exultation fueled him. He had nothing but his bare
hands and a mad desire to save the girl, and somehow it was
enough. Spike had managed to knock two of them unconscious, and
was struggling with the third when he turned to dust in his
fingers. The girl stood there staring at him with a sort of
horror. "What?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, and then her eyes
widened. "Behind you," she warned, tossing the stake to him.
Spike caught it easily and in two easy movements the last of the
vampires were dust on the ground. He turned to the girl again.
"What is it?" he asked.

She hesitated, and then pointed to her own face. "Your face. It
just wasn't what I expected."

Spike had forgotten he'd put his game face on. He shifted back
into a human appearance. "Better?"

She shrugged. "I just didn't think vampires killed other
vampires."

"Welcome to the freak show," he replied. He looked down and saw
a dark red stain spreading across the leg of her jeans. "You all
right?"

She looked down, startled. "I didn't realize how bad it was,"
she admitted.

"Adrenaline will do that for you. You'd better let me take a
look at that," he said. "My place is close."

"I've made it a habit not to go home with strange vampires," she
said, with some humor.

Spike looked at her in surprise and smiled slowly. "My name's
Spike."

"Rachel," she said. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Don't mention it," Spike replied, and meant it. "Come on, let's
get that leg cleaned up."

He was half supporting her, half carrying her as they walked
back to his crypt. "So, what brings you out this late at night?
It's not safe, y'know."

Rachel glanced up at him, trying to concentrate on putting one
foot in front of the other. "I was tutoring."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" Spike asked with a smirk.

Her blue-gray eyes darted upward again. She paused for a second
in surprise as she realized what he was insinuating. "No," she
replied, "that's what I was doing. I tutor jocks in calculus and
English and pretty much whatever else they're having trouble
with."

"Well, that's interesting," Spike murmured. "And none of those
gits could be bothered to walk you home?"

"None of them would be caught dead with me. I'm the homework
queen, not their date. Besides, I'm fine on my own."

The tone of her voice amused him, especially considering the
fact that he'd just saved her from three hungry vampires.
"Right, duchess," he replied. "You're obviously fine." She
opened her mouth to retort when he picked her up. "Don't get
your knickers in a twist," he said before she could protest.
"This is faster and easier." He carried her the last few feet to
the crypt and down the stairs, depositing her on his chair. "Sit
tight," he ordered. "I'll be right back."

He went and got the bandages he had on hand, as well as his
bottle of Jack. Rachel was still in his chair with a bemused
look on her face when he got back. "Drink?" he asked.

She was about to refuse, but changed her mind. "Yeah, thanks."

He poured her a shot and knelt at her feet, carefully rolling up
the leg on her jeans. "This is pretty ugly," he said. "You might
need to see a doctor for this one."

Rachel shook her head. "It'll be fine. I've had worse."

"Really? You go after vampires often?" He sponged away the blood
with a bit of gauze and put a clean pad over the wound, using
his roll of bandage to hold it in place.

"No, but I've cut myself pretty bad before. I heal fast." She
winced a little as he pulled the wrap tight. "Thank you," she
said as he finished up. She reached out and touched his hand
gently. "I mean it."

Spike's face changed and his eyes softened. "You're welcome." He
stood up and held out a hand to her. "I can walk you home, and
then you'd better get some rest."

Rachel stood up quickly. "No, that's okay," she said, backing
away. "I'm fine to walk home by myself."

Spike frowned, frustrated. "I'm not going to bite you," he said,
"and I'm not going to stalk you, duchess."

Rachel seemed surprised that he'd even suggest it. "I know," she
said, "but you've done so much already. Really, I'll be fine."

Spike raised his voice just slightly. "I'm not letting you walk
home by yourself," he insisted. "You're hurt, and I don't want
to run across you again on the wrong side of a stake."

"Haven't you ever heard what they said about lightening not
striking twice?" she asked, trying to laugh off his concern.
"You don't need to walk me."

Spike was about ready to shake her. She didn't seem to realize
what a close call she had had, and he could see her trembling
with exhaustion and the after effects of the adrenaline rush.
"You bloody well aren't walking home alone and that's all there
is to it," he said, grabbing his jacket from where he'd left it
on the bier. "Come on then." When he looked back at her he
noticed her lips were trembling and he paused. "Rachel?"

"You can't walk me home," she all but whispered. "I don't have
anywhere for you to walk me to."

Spike stopped and frowned. "Then where the hell were you going
tonight?" he asked.

Her shoulders slumped. "I don't know. I was just walking, hoping
I'd find someplace."

Spike's jaw tightened. "Sit down," he ordered gently. "You want
to tell me about it?"

She looked away from him, not meeting his eyes. "My dad had a
new girlfriend move in, and when she found out--when she found
out we weren't going to get along she told him he had a choice.
Her or me."

"Let me guess," Spike said quietly. "He picked her."

Rachel shrugged. "He said I could stay in this rental place he
owns and I wouldn't have to pay rent while I'm in school, but I
can't move in until next month. I told him I'd find a friend to
stay with, and that's what I've been doing for the last couple
weeks, but no one really has the room for another roommate, and
I can't go back and tell my dad."

"Why not?" Spike asked. "The bugger should have seen you taken
care of."

"Maybe. He is taking care of things, but the occupants' lease
for the house isn't up for another six weeks, so there really
isn't anything he can do." Rachel leaned back in the chair. "I
thought maybe I could find a place to stay for tonight, and then
I'd have to figure something else out tomorrow. I didn't know
what else to do."

Spike was thinking that whatever friends she had weren't worth
much, letting her sleep out on the street like that, especially
in a town like Sunnydale. You never knew what was haunting the
dark corners. He looked at her. She was a normal enough looking
girl; pale, curly red hair, freckles, blue-ish eyes, nothing
spectacular really. There was no way he was going to let her out
on the street on her own like this. "Why don't you stay here
tonight?" he suggested, the words coming out of his mouth before
he could think about how they might sound.

She looked at him in surprise. "I don't want to impose," she
protested.

"Who's imposing? I don't sleep at night, I'm not using the bed,"
Spike pointed out. "And I cleaned today, so you don't have to
worry about that."

"I'm not worried about that," she assured him. "But I don't want
to invade your space. You've done enough for me already."

Spike shrugged. "Saving your life wouldn't have done much good
if you just go out and get yourself killed now, would it?"

Rachel smiled tiredly. "I guess not." She paused, "Wait, I left
my backpack and my duffel out there. That's all my stuff. I need
to--"

"You aren't going anywhere," he said, pushing her back into the
chair. "I'll get them. Where are they?"

"By the west entrance. The pack's blue and the duffel is black."

Spike shrugged into his jacket. "Fine. I'll be right back."

Neither the pack nor the duffel were hard to find, since they
were right where she'd said they'd be. He shouldered both and
headed back to the crypt, wondering if he was getting himself
into something he'd rather not. Still, some part of him refused
to see her put in more danger, and he didn't know of anyone he
could realistically send her to. Perhaps he might have been able
to send her to Buffy's house at one point. Even now, she might
help out, but then again she might slam the door as soon as she
heard his name. It was hard to tell.

"Found 'em," he called as he came in. "Doesn't look like anyone
messed with them either." His voice trailed off toward the end
as he realized she'd gone to sleep. "Must have been exhausted,"
Spike muttered. "Poor kid." He hesitated only a moment before
taking her bags to the lower level and setting them beside the
bed. Then he went back and picked her up. She didn't even stir
as he carried her over his shoulder to the bed, pulled off her
shoes and tucked her in. The vampire stood there for a moment.
He'd never really been able to watch Buffy sleep, he remembered.
She rarely stayed the night with him, and she hardly would sleep
in his presence. He reached out to touch her face, and then drew
his hand back. She wasn't Buffy, and Buffy wasn't his, and there
were very good reasons for that. Very good reasons indeed.

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