WARNING: Minor character death. Major character injury. Emotionally
scarred Spike.

TITLE: Body and Soul - The Curse - Chapter 8
AUTHOR: Lysia
EMAIL: cricket818uk@wadnitt.fsnet.co.uk
FEEDBACK: Very much appreciated. Praise is encouraging, constructive
criticism is used to improve.
RATING: 12, for violence.
WARNING: Violence, angst. And possibly language. Light S/A comfort-
type romance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of them, but I'll give them back to Joss
when I've finished with them.
SPOILERS: Set sometime after 'Forever'.
ARCHIVING: Here. Anywhere else, just ask.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Guide to characters from FFL - Henry Carver is the
bloke who read the poem out at the party; Charles Hamilton is the
other man at the party; Katharine Millington-Parks is the woman with
the funny hair-do who was with them.

Chapter 8

The three vampires stalked into the hall, under the watchful eyes of
the raiding party. Christia looked at each one of the Scooby gang
thoughtfully and licked her lips in a manner which eerily reminded
Buffy of someone selecting food at a restaurant.

"You know," Skull drawled, moving a little closer to Spike and
examining his Sire, "I really didn't expect you to come back here. I
thought you would be hiding somewhere, reliving all those glorious
moments in your unlife - the kills, the fights, the feeds. How do you
like the little present my dear Kathie got you?"

"Did a good job, didn't I?" Myst announced, grinning at Spike. "Poor
miserable bastard - look at him."

"He has lots of friends," Christia observed, linking arms with
Skull. "I could never imagine William with friends."

"Interesting situation this, isn't it?" Skull commented, surveying
the little scene unfolding in his hall.

"Guess you could call it that," Buffy replied, aiming her crossbow at
Skull. "Anyone shoots, we all die."

Skull shrugged casually, undeterred by Buffy's threat. "Theory of
mutually assured destruction, my dear," he informed her. "That's what
started the nuclear arms race. I wouldn't bother shooting anyway if I
were you. You'll never hit my heart from that distance."

"I'm a good shot," Buffy replied firmly. Understatement of the decade.

"So are my lads," Skull countered with an emphatic tilt of his
head. "Alright boys, shuffle them off the mortal coil and we'll have
ourselves a feast."

Evidently the Order were so determined to take out the mortals who
had invaded their home they didn't mind risking their unlives. The
vampires opened fire - but not before Willow had sprinted over to
join the others and form a triangle around them with Tara and Wesley,
creating a protective forcefield.

The bullets bounced harmlessly off the barrier while the team fired
multiple arrows at their vampire foes, dusting several and sending
others running for cover. Dust showered from the landing and
balconies as several vampires were reduced to ash.

"Bugger," Skull hissed, turning and glaring at Spike. "Nice little
army you brought along here. See you've raided my kitchen and all."

His bloodthirsty gaze fell on Matt, who was cowering behind Spike
watching the battle through wide eyes. Spike felt his heart sink with
dread. Skull couldn't kill the boy - he'd promised he'd save him. He
had saved him.

Buffy noticed Skull's vampire face come to the fore as he moved to
attack the boy Spike was trying so hard to protect. She aimed her
crossbow at Skull and fired. Her aim was perfect. She would have
struck his heart directly, but Myst raised her arms and the arrow
bounced off an invisible wall between Buffy and her target.

"Myst, get their forcefield down!" Skull snapped, glancing at his
Wiccan friend over his shoulder.

Spike took advantage of the momentary distraction and grabbed Matt's
hand, dragging him towards the door. He would get him out of this
place, even if he had to battle his way through his enemies to do it.
But Skull blocked his path, punching him in the face. Spike grabbed a
stake from his belt and went to plunge it into Skull's heart, but
Christia flew into attack and landed a punch to his stomach and drove
her knee into his groin.

Spike staggered back, both he and Matt colliding with a marble pillar
to the side of the door. Spike tried desperately to keep the boy out
of the reach of the vampires, but he was underfed, weakened and in
pain. Skull dragged the screaming young man away from his protection
while Christia pinned Spike to the pillar, landing sharp and painful
blows to his ribs and stomach.

"Tried to save him did you?" she sneered at Spike as he watched Skull
drain the lad he had tried so hard to rescue from such a painful
death. Matt wa staring at him, his lips moving as he silently begged
for help, his voice frozen from fear. Spike could do nothing but
listen to Christia's cruel taunts. "Well, you never were any good at
anything, were you William? Can't even save one boy. You're pathetic."

Spike felt as through he was watching events unfold through a tunnel.
Everything seemed so far away - the sounds of the battle; Christia's
taunting and cruel looks; Matt's lifeless body slumping in Skull's
grip. Everything was falling apart. This fight was supposed to be his
step from uselessness to heroic evil fighting, making up for his past
crimes, but he couldn't even save one teenager. Christia was right -
he was useless.

Spike was vaguely aware of Skull shoving Matt's corpse towards him.
He caught the boy awkwardly and sank to the floor, cradling him in
his lap. Dull glassy eyes stared at him from a pale face, pleading
with him, asking why he couldn't save him. Spike shivered as he
gently closed those earnest eyes, clutching the lad as if he were his
son or best friend, not some stranger he had dragged out of a
basement. He was aware of tears falling, but ignored them.

Skull sniggered at his Sire. How pathetic William had become, he
thought. Fancy crying over someone he hardly knew. Smiling to
himself, Skull licked his lips and turned back to Myst, who was now
hurling great red and purple flames of magic at the forcefield around
the raiding party.

"Are they still not dead yet?" he sighed, exasperated.

Myst turned to him, shouting over the noise of arrows and magic from
their opponents hitting the barrier Myst had created. "I can't get
through their forcefield," she yelled.

Skull rolled his eyes. "Brilliant - stalemate. It's just like the
bloody Somme in here now."

"The little bleeders have put a spell on the house, that's what it
is!" Myst protested angrily, frustrated at the lack of effect her
magic was having. "It's done something to my magic - none of my
attacks work!"

"So do it that hard way," Skull insisted, shoving Myst towards the
cluster of fighters.

Myst strode across the hall, arrows bouncing off the barrier around
her. She might not be able to attack these mortals with magic, but
some good old-fashioned British violence should do the trick nicely.

She reached the barrier and drove her hands through the faint reddish
glow. As she had suspected, it was only protection against attacks,
and where bullets could not pierce the wall, mere hands could. She
silenced Willow's chanting with a harsh grip to her throat and
smashed the talisman she was gripping.

The forcefield fell and silence descended on the hall. All bows were
aimed at Skull in defence.

"Can we eat now?" Myst asked Skull wearily, still holding onto Willow
with a strong grip.

"No," Skull replied firmly, ignoring his friend's sulking pout and
eyeing his foes thoughtfully. "No, this lot aren't fodder. I like
them too much. Such zest, such fighting skills. I think I'll leave
you to fight another day."

"What?!" Cordelia exclaimed, utterly surprised and confused.

"Alright, what's going on here?" Gunn demanded with a harsh glare at
Skull.

Skull grinned. "You'll have to wait until phase two." He turned to
his vampire troops who had joined him by the door, Myst and Christia
returning to his side. "Let them all go," he said quietly to one of
his Childer. "If they arrive at phase two, my plan is complete. If
they don't we track them all down and torture them to death."

The henchman nodded in understanding. "What about your Sire?" he
spat, sneering at Spike.

"Let him go too."

Skull's loyal Childe was livid. "He killed the Father!"

"I know," Skull replied calmly. "That's why he should stay alive to
suffer the pain we've inflicted on him. Now let them all leave."

The group of evil-fighters shifted apprehensively. Something was
wrong. Why was Skull suddenly letting them go just because they had
good battle skills? Surely he would think of them as formidable
opponents and dispose of them while he had the chance.

"So," Giles pondered, eyeing Skull curiously. "You're letting us go
until phase two, which we know nothing about, and you want us all to
return to you then and..."

"Oh sorry," Skull corrected himself, raising a hand
apologetically. "I forgot to mention, one of you is too much of a
threat to be allowed to live. The little blond girl... very skilled for
one so young. I'm guessing we have a Slayer in our midst."

Buffy smiled and brandished a small axe. "You'd be right," she
replied.

"Well," Skull announced cheerfully, cracking his knuckles. "Looks
like I'm about to beat Daddy's score in the Slayer-slaying.

Buffy stepped forward, ready for a fight. Skull not feeling pain was
not a problem. She'd just lop his head off before he got near her -
no fuss no muss.

But Skull made no move to initiate a fight. Angel sensed something
was wrong. Skull had no intention of fighting fairly, and Angel knew
the instant the vampire reached over his shoulder. Angel leapt
towards Buffy to protect her, yelling out to Spike to stop Skull.

Spike looked up through tears just in time to see Skull draw some
type of rifle from a holster on his back and take aim. Before he
could even move, an oddly-shaped metal harpoon had been fired,
hitting Angel's ribcage, coming straight out of the other side of the
vampire's body and coming to rest embedded in Buffy's stomach. The
former lovers fell to the ground clutching each other in a tight hug,
a sick parody of an embrace.

They hit the ground, the impact jolting the metal rod that joined
them. The group rushed around their wounded friends, panic gripping
them. Events blurred together and chaos descended. Everyone did
something, whether helpful or not, but they were no longer the well
organised team that had efficiently defended themselves against an
army of vampires. Gunn phoned for an ambulance; Giles took charge and
tried to prevent panic; Willow paced frantically while Tara comforted
her; Xander yelled at Spike for not doing anything.

Spike just sat there, still cradling the body of the teenager he had
tried to save and staring straight ahead as the woman he loved lay in
agony on a cold marble floor, crushed beneath Spike's wounded Sire.

Gradually, the noise of Xander's insults and the image of the
bleeding people faded. Spike kept his eyes open, but forced all sense
from his mind. He didn't want to know any more. Guilt was bad enough,
but watching tragedy like this unfold before him when he should have
dome something to prevent it was just too much. And it was all his
fault, his mind told him, echoing what Xander had been screaming at
him before he shut out the cruel sounds. He had caused all this by
siring that bastard Carver. He was responsible.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ambulance and the police arrived within minutes. Luckily, Skull
and his 'family' did not attack while the emergency services cut the
harpoon joining Buffy and Angel and carried Buffy out to the
ambulance on a stretcher, the remains of the harpoon taped in place
to avoid damaging her organs further and causing her pain. One person
was allowed to escort her to the hospital and Willow volunteered.
Angel had insisted that he was not injured, and when he had
demonstrated his health by standing without difficulty the ambulance
crew dubiously let him stay out of hospital.

The crew also removed the bodies from the kitchen and took Matt away
once they had managed to persuade Spike to let him go.

The teams watched the clean-up take place and, upon being asked to
give a statement, simply said that they were attacked by 'people with
strange faces'. The police left it at that and said they probably
wouldn't be bothered again. It was so easy to get out of explaining
events to the authorities in Sunnydale.

As the sirens faded into the distance the remaining team members
prepared to leave. Spike was still sitting on the floor, staring
blankly into space.

"Spike?" Angel asked quietly, nudging his Childe. "Spike, come on
we're going."

"Uh-huh," Spike mumbled, not moving.

Angel tensed, wondering what was wrong with Spike. Post-traumatic
shock, perhaps? They couldn't have asked the paramedics to help him,
and Angel wasn't sure what to do. He grasped Spike's arms firmly and
pulled him to his feet, his side hurting as he did so. Even with his
vampire healing, he wasn't in perfect health.

Spike was on his feet now, but refusing to budge, just staring at the
floor and moving away every time Angel tried to talk to him, mumbling
under his breath.

"We have to get out of here," Angel insisted, tugging Spike after him.

"Leave me here," Spike mumbled. "Just go." He couldn't face doing
anything - not even walking out of this place. He just wanted to curl
up and ignore the world. It was a place full of pain and he didn't
like it one bit. He didn't want to be a part of it any more.

Determined that Spike would not be left behind, Angel gripped Spike
around the waist and pulled him along beside him, forcing his Childe
to walk. Spike did so, dragging his feet and shuffling, still staring
at the ground and ignoring what was going on around him.

Angel watched Spike as they made their slow and unsteady way down the
drive away from the house. He was concerned and distraught. He hoped
Spike would get over this, but something was clearly very wrong with
his Childe.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark now. The Scooby gang had gathered at the Magic Box, all
waiting to hear word from Willow. With Dawn already at Buffy's
bedside at the hospital, it had been advised that they wait elsewhere
so as not to clutter the corridors. It had been an agonising wait,
but Willow's phone call reassured them, in a terrifying way. The
doctors had found that the harpoon that had speared Buffy's abdomen
was laced with a powerful poison. She would be under the weather for
some time but, as Willow explained, the doctors thought she was
responding to the antidote phenomenally well.

There was relief and a little amusement at this fact - of course a
Slayer would recover well - but the overall mood was still too
melancholy too allow much rejoicing. The cloud of misery hung over
the group and refused to budge, leaving the air thick with regret and
worry. Their attack had been a failure. They had partially reduced
the numbers of the Order of Vherdakhi, but not by much. The leaders
were still alive and Buffy was badly wounded.

"Well at least we know she's going to be alright," Tara volunteered
nervously, her tone not mirroring her optimistic statement.

"Yeah," Xander agreed quietly. "So that's a good thing. No major
worries about Buffy. She of the super-healing will probably be right
as rain in a week."

"It's this 'phase two' I'm worried about," Giles announced, sipping
from his third cup of tea of the evening. "Skull clearly wants us
there for some reason, and if Buffy's not fully recovered by that
time then he may be disappointed."

"Why would he want us there anyway?" Tara asked. "I mean, we did
pretty well back there until Myst broke the barrier. Surely he'd want
us out of the way."

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm not going," Anya announced
firmly. The others looked at her curiously. "I don't want to go into
the middle of some vampire's evil master plan and get killed or... made
into a vampire or whatever it is he's going to do!"

"It's alright, An," Xander told her calmly, putting a hand on her
knee. "You don't have to go."

"Yes I do!" Anya shrieked. "You saying that is just a way of making
me feel guilty and forcing me to do things I don't want to! It's
called subtext - I read about it in a book."

Angel ignored the arguing couple and glanced at Spike who was sitting
beside him on the table, unmoving with his head bowed and his
shoulders hunched.

"How is he?" Giles asked as Xander and Anya's argument quietened down.

Angel gave Spike's arm a gentle shake, but the younger vampire
flinched away without saying a word. Angel shook his head and
sighed. "He's getting worse. I think he's in shock. He won't talk, he
won't move."

"This isn't shock," Giles replied softly, clearly
concerned. "Something else must have caused this."

"Xander shouldn't have yelled at him like that," Angel muttered,
absently rubbing Spike's back.

"Hey, my best friend got run through with a harpoon!" Xander
protested, pointing accusingly at Angel.

"And a boy Spike tried to save is dead!" Angel shot back angrily,
furious that Xander was blaming Spike. He too had hoped that Spike
would have been able to stop Skull, but piling yet more guilt onto
the newly-souled vampire would not help him. Angel sighed and pressed
his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He had a headache coming
on. "I don't get it," he mumbled. "Why is he like this? The guilt of
a soul doesn't do this to you - it makes you hyper-aware, not trance-
like. Did anything happen - before I got here, that is? When his soul
was first restored and when his memory came back - did anything
happen that might have upset him, left him vulnerable?"

Giles shrugged. "He was a Victorian boy suddenly finding himself in
the 21st century," he explained. "I think that would be stressful
enough."

"But you calmed him down, right?" Angel asked, desperate for answers.

Giles hesitated. "I did my best," he muttered, shifting awkwardly.

A lump manifested itself in Angel's throat. What had happened? "What
did you do?" he ground out, his hand freezing on Spike's back.

Giles sighed. "I threatened to tie him up if he didn't stay in the
house," he admitted reluctantly, avoiding Angel's harsh glare.

Angel was positively livid. "You what?!"

"Well he was becoming violent!" Giles explained quickly, putting his
tea down on the counter with a thump. "He was attacking Xander and I.
We had no choice. If we'd let him go out he could have got into more
trouble."

"You terrified him!" Angel snapped, squeezing Spike's shoulders
possessively. "God knows what you've done to him! The first few
minutes after a vampire's soul returns are crucial! Is there anything
else I should know about? Anything that could have hurt him or
frightened him. Something violent, something that made him feel
trapped or helpless."

Another pause. "We had to tranquilise him," Xander added, raising his
hand like a schoolboy unsure of his answer.

Angel's brow creased. "You had tranquilisers?" he asked. "I don't
think pills would have..."

"No," Xander corrected, wringing his hands awkwardly and looking
away. "A... a gun."

"You shot my Childe?!" Angel bellowed, outraged. God, what had they
done to Spike? No wonder he was so distant and nervous. His soul's
first experiences of this strange new world had been of threats and
pain, not comfort and sympathetic explanations.

"Not me!" Xander was saying, protesting innocence. "Buffy."

"Buffy shot Spike," Angel repeated.

"We had to!" Xander insisted, gesticulating madly. "He was fitting
and... hurting himself. If you'd rather we let him smash his brains out
on the bathroom floor then..."

"Alright, that's enough," Angel mumbled, holding Spike closer to him,
horrified when the vampire pulled away from him. "God knows what
you've done, but he's not very stable. He shouldn't be like this -
this isn't him."

"Angel," Giles explained calmly, "we did everything we could. We
tried to stop him running into the street and getting run over or
attacked, and we stopped him hurting himself during a seizure. We
didn't know it would have this effect."

"He's scarred," Angel whispered, holding Spike protectively. "What
happened when his soul was restored made him emotionally weak and
seeing Buffy get shot and the boy he tried to save get killed by
Skull triggered this off." He looked up at the others. "I don't blame
you - I know you didn't know what else you could do - but I hate
seeing him like this when I know how much pain he must be going
through."

"What are we going to do with him tonight?" Tara asked, concerned for
Spike almost as much as Angel.

"I'll take care of him," Angel volunteered without hesitation. "He
can stay at the mansion with me - his room is still set up from last
time we were there. No offence, but I don't want Giles or Xander
hurting him again."

"I understand," Giles replied quietly. "You know more about his
condition than we do. I wouldn't wish to make any more mistakes."

"We'll go now," Angel said flatly, gripping Spike's hand. "Come on
Spike."

"No," Spike protested, trying to squirm away as Angel tugged at his
hand. "Leave me 'lone."

"Come on," Angel insisted firmly but softly, placing his hands under
Spike's arms and lifting the vampire off the table and onto his
feet. "Come on, you need to feed and get some sleep."

Spike whimpered softly as Angel led him out of the Magic Box. "Let me
know how Buffy as soon as you hear something," Angel called over his
shoulder before the door closed behind him. Then, with Spike clinging
to his arm, he headed for his car.

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike's room was just as he had left it before heading for Brazil
with Drusilla. Angel had wanted to keep the mansion clean, so once he
had dusted and polished Spike's small and sparsely furnished bedroom
he had put dustsheets and tarpaulin over the furniture and floor to
keep it clean. It had worked well and the room barely needed any work
to make it suitable for occupation. A little more dusting and a
change of bedclothes and Spike had a nice cosy setup for the night.

Angel sat Spike down on the bed and placed a pair of pyjamas beside
him. "You can borrow my spare sleep clothes," he informed his Childe,
hoping kindly gestures and soft words might help Spike snap out of
his trance. "This is your room now, just like before. Like it?"

Spike's head rose up slightly and he slowly surveyed the room. His
gaze fell upon the wheelchair in the corner and a scowl crossed his
face before he dropped his head again.

"Ah," Angel cringed, noticing the offending wheelchair. "I'll get rid
of that for you. In the meantime..." He placed a cup of pig's blood in
Spike's hands. "Drink that."

Spike shook his head and looked away at the wall. "Just go away," he
muttered.

Angel did his best not to show how much his Childe's rejection of his
help hurt him. "You want some peace and quiet, huh?" he commented
casually, patting Spike's shoulder.

Spike nodded, the movement barely noticeable.

"Alright," Angel agreed. "I'll leave you now, but you have to promise
me you'll drink the blood and get some sleep. You don't have to wear
the pyjamas - I know you don't like my dress style. Just promise
you'll feed and rest, and I'll leave you alone."

Spike nodded, much more noticeably this time. Angel smiled to
himself. Perhaps he was finally getting through to his Childe. With
time, Spike should recover from his trauma and be back to his usual
self - full of life and enthusiasm, only without the killing.

"Goodnight Spike," Angel said as he closed the door.

He walked off to his room, leaving Spike alone in his room for the
night. This, as he would find out in the morning, would prove to be a
grave mistake.

~TBC~ in episode 2