Angel of the Morning

Chapter One

I woke up too early. I often did, since Tara left. Erratic sleeping patterns. It was hard to get to sleep in that empty bed, and after I woke it was hard to get back to sleep. There was an old song by The Police that said it well; 'The bed's too big without you.'

I could fool myself by day, and in the evening in the brightness of artificial light, but not in the cold darkness before the dawn. It was nothing to do with addiction; it was fear and self-doubt. I'd been so scared that Tara would see through me, realize that I really wasn't loveable after all, that I'd tried to control my lover by any means possible. Even the cruelest way of all, manipulating her mind in a horrible echo of what Glory had done, hurting Tara beyond bearing, and losing her in the process. Losing her because I'd been so scared of losing her. Alanis Morissette eat your heart out; that really was ironic.

There was no point in trying to get back to sleep, I knew; I'd just lie awake, thinking depressing thoughts, until it was nearly time to get up. Then I'd doze off, the alarm clock would wake me, and I'd feel even worse. Better to get up now. Skulking around downstairs, trying to keep quiet so as not to disturb Buffy and Dawn, so not likely to improve my mood either. The only thing that I'd found would charge me up enough to get through the day at class was going out for a pre-dawn jog.

Okay, Sunnydale in the dark hours, not the world's safest place for joggers, but half past five in the morning was pretty safe. The vampires would all be back in their crypts, 'cause, pickings too slim for it to be worth their while. Why risk getting delayed, and not making it back to safety before sunrise, on the off chance they might get a paper-boy? Hardly anybody else out there for them to catch, so, not peak time for vamps. Anyway, I was far more capable of looking after myself than the average Sunnydale resident, even though I'd sworn off the magic; I'd clocked plenty of field time. I got up, hit the bathroom, dressed, grabbed a water bottle and a stake, and set off.

In my previous pre-dawn jogs I'd never encountered anything more sinister than a bus driver on his way to work the early shift, and so when I saw the two figures emerging from an alley it threw me right off my stride. One was big, bulky, and with ears that protruded from his head in a distinctly non-human fashion; the other was smaller, slimmer, in a familiar leather coat. Spike.

Seeing Spike didn't scare me, as such; it had been a long time since he could have bitten me, or have done anything more damaging than delivering uncomfortable truths, and I'd already faced those this morning. The guy, or demon, with him was another matter. They came out into the street where I could see them by the street lights, and I realized that the large figure was dragging Spike along.

Spike didn't seem to be resisting, but he wasn't walking properly – in fact he seemed to be being kept upright only by his companion's grasp – and then he raised his head and I saw that his face was battered and swollen almost beyond recognition. Shit. I'm not sure if he could see me, his eyes were pretty shut, but he must have known someone was there 'cause he called something out. I couldn't make out his words, but, hey, didn't take a rocket scientist to guess that he was calling for help.

Crap. Spike had lost a fight and was getting dragged off by whatever had beaten him. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Spike was tough. Okay, Buffy could beat him, but not much else. I'd seen him dust normal vamps without bothering to take the cigarette out of his mouth. Somebody, or something, that could beat Spike up that bad, really not something I wanted to have to deal with. We could be talking Glory level opposition here, Olaf the Troll at least. I wondered whether it would chase me if I ran.

Spike must have seen me, or smelled me, 'cause he managed to croak out "Red?"

Well, that was it. Running away, not an option any more. I remembered when Tara had burned Spike with sunlight after Glory brain-sucked her, and how nice Spike had been about it; him looking at Buffy's body, sobbing his heart out, all smashed up but not caring about anything but her; him patrolling with us all that long horrible summer; the way he'd taken care of Dawn for us; yeah, he was part of the team, even though I'd maybe never given him credit for it before, and no way was I going to run away and leave him in the hands of some enemy. If I did, well, living with myself afterwards wouldn't be pleasant.

I narrowed my eyes and tightened my lips, trying to look mean and tough. "Let him go," I said with all the menace I could muster. "I'm a witch. Let him go and back off."

The figure holding Spike raised its face and looked at me, giving me a clear look at him, and, yeah, definitely a demon there. Warty face, skin all wrinkly, ears like bat wings, and a mouth full of jagged teeth. Only, when it spoke it sounded kind of mild-mannered. "But if I let Spike go he'll fall down," it said.

I was concentrating too hard on trying to be scary to notice that the demon's attitude was a bit, well, incongruous. "Let him go," I repeated. I thought of a spell and raised my hands to throw it, 'cept I really hoped it wouldn't come to that 'cause, hey, trying to stay off the whole magic use wagon. "Take your hands off him and keep them where I can see them."

"Umm, okay, if you insist," the demon replied. It sounded nervous. "Spike, can you hang on to my neck? I don't think hitting the ground would be very good for you."

"Red," Spike said again, not very clearly 'cause he'd obviously been hit in the mouth. "It's okay. Clem's a friend. He's just helping me out here."

"Oh!" I said. I lowered my hands. "I'm so sorry. I thought you were, like, kidnapping him or something."

"That's okay, I understand," the demon said, with a grin that looked innocent and friendly if I ignored the jagged teeth. "I have to get Spike home before sunrise, or it wouldn't be too healthy for him."

I glanced at my watch. Forty minutes 'till sunrise, and it was quite a way to Spike's crypt. "Yeah, he'd burn up," I said. I tried to smile at the demon. "Maybe I'd better give you a hand." I joined them and helped the demon, Clem, to support Spike. We got him between us, one arm over my shoulders and the other over Clem's, and held him up. I took hold of Spike's hand pretty carefully, as I reckoned his knuckles would probably be as messed up as his face after such a big fight. Only, they were completely unmarked.

I could see his face up close now, and it was really bad; maybe even in worse shape than when Glory had beaten him up and tortured him. Yet he didn't seem to have fought back. That didn't make any kind of sense to me. I puzzled over it as we helped Spike along. At first just keeping him moving in the right direction needed too much concentration for me to do any talking, but by the time we reached Spike's home cemetery we'd pretty much got the hang of it and I could take time out to talk. "Who did this to you, Spike?" I asked.

"Yeah, Spike, what happened?" Clem joined in. "Was it Teeth's mob? I thought you and the Slayer had pretty much done for them."

"Nah, I paid Teeth his kittens," Spike replied. "Owed him, didn't I? I'm not a welsher. Just needed a bit more time, and I got that."

I was expecting him to go on to explain what had happened, but he just said that little bit and then went silent again. "Then who was it, Spike?" I pressed him, and then I came up with an explanation for his undamaged knuckles. "Was it humans?"

Spike sucked in a breath and held it for a long time before he replied. "Yeah. Humans. Couldn't hit back, could I?"

I winced in sympathy. If humans had done that much damage to a vampire they must have used boots, bottles, maybe baseball bats or tire irons, in a sustained attack. I pictured Spike lying on the ground being repeatedly kicked in the face and unable to do anything to defend himself. I was about to say 'you poor thing' but I stopped myself short, 'cause Spike liked to think of himself as the Big Bad and that would have been really humiliating for him, and so I said "Hey, that's just totally not fair," instead.

"Wow, that is a bummer," Clem agreed.

Spike pursed his swollen lips. "Suppose it serves me right, really. Ate plenty of humans in my time. Only fair they get payback. Nothing good or clean in me, after all. I'm dead inside. Not like I matter."

That so wasn't normal for Spike. He sounded sort of defeated, deflated. I felt really sorry for him and I gave his hand a little squeeze. "You're not evil any more, Spike, and you do matter."

"Am evil," Spike mumbled back, but it didn't sound like his usual boasting. It sounded more like he was admitting something he was ashamed of. "Never be good enough."

"Hey, Spike, don't knock yourself," Clem urged him. "Okay, you're evil, but you're a good pal."

"Yeah, lately I've been more evil than you," I reminded Spike. "Hey, nearly home. We'll get you cleaned up and patched up and then you'll feel better, 'kay?"

"Don't deserve your help. Don't have a soul, nothing good or clean in me. But thanks, Red. Thanks, Clem."

We reached the crypt and sat Spike down on the sarcophagus that he used as a table and, as far as I knew, as a bed. "Will you be okay now, Spike?" Clem asked. "I could do with getting home before there are too many humans out and about."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Spike told him, although he didn't sound as if he would be fine. "You get on home, Clem. You're a good mate."

"Well, if you're sure," Clem said. He didn't sound too convinced about Spike being okay.

"Don't worry, I'll look after him," I assured the floppy-eared demon. Now that I could get a good look at him without Spike in the way I could see that he was bulky, covered in wrinkled skin, and humanoid with a slightly doggy air. Sorta cute, really; he gave the impression he should be wagging a tail.

"Thanks," Clem grinned. "Hey, I haven't really introduced myself, have I? Name's Clem, like Spike said. We're kitten poker buddies. You're Red, then?"

"That's what Spike calls me, but my real name's Willow," I told him. He extended his hand; I hesitated for a second before taking it, but hey, I didn't want to be rude, so I shook his wrinkly hand – or perhaps paw – politely. "Pleased to meet you. Thanks for helping Spike. I'll take it from here."

With Clem gone I set about doing first aid on Spike. Don't know how necessary it was, vampire healing pretty much makes the usual sort of treatments pointless, but I cleaned up his face, and used cold compresses to ease his pain.

I'd had enough experience of injuries to be able to tell that these were hours old. It wasn't that he'd been attacked shortly before Clem's arrival; he'd been severely beaten and then had lain helpless in the alley for most of the night. I couldn't work out how humans could have done so much damage to his face without his hands suffering. Surely he would have put his arms in front of his face? If they'd grabbed him and held his arms, couldn't he have just pulled free? Spike was several times stronger than any human, and the chip wouldn't have gone off if he'd just been trying to free himself and not to hurt anybody, would it? It just didn't make sense.

However, that wasn't important right now. "Guess you need blood, huh?"

Spike nodded and waved his hand towards his little refrigerator. "Please."

I found Styrofoam containers of pigs' blood, and also a couple of sachets of human blood; either they had been disposed of by the hospital as out of date or else they were stolen goods, but this probably wasn't a good time to press Spike on that issue, and, really, not caring all that much. The human blood would help him heal faster and that was all that mattered. I looked for something to up heat the blood. No microwave. There was a kettle; but putting the blood sachets into boiling water would cook them rather than warm them up. "Can you drink it cold?"

"No problem, love," Spike said. I snipped the corner off one packet and passed it over, and he gulped it straight down. I gave him the second packet, and he drank that right off as well, and then he lay down on the lid of the sarcophagus. "You're a treasure, Red. I'll be fine now. Get yourself off to college."

"Not yet," I said. "I'm gonna make sure you're settled all nice and comfortable before I go, okay? Which saying, that stone lid, not exactly the best place to lie. You got any cushions?"

"Got a proper bed downstairs," Spike revealed. I'd never known that, only had a vague idea that he even had a lower level.

"Right, let's get you down there." There was a hole in the floor and a ladder going down, and I guided Spike to the ladder and went ahead of him to make sure that he didn't fall. His eyes were swollen pretty much shut, and he definitely needed my help. When we got down there I found that there was a chamber lit by a flickering candle stub. I could make out a double bed, and I led Spike there and set him down, and then I went over to the candle and used that stub to light some more candles that were nearby.

"Didn't expect to be out this long," Spike mumbled. "Lucky it was still lit, innit?"

In the brighter light I could see that the room was a passable imitation of a human bedroom. There was a comforter on the bed, a little set of drawers with an electric lamp standing beside it, and there were even rugs on the floor. "Hey," I said, impressed. "You've got this place looking really nice."

"I'll take your word for it, love," Spike said, and a grin flickered briefly across his face.

"No, really." I crossed to the lamp. "Does this lamp work? Okay if I put it on?"

"'Course it's okay."

I switched the lamp on and looked around. "You do all this yourself? It looks good."

"Clem helped me bring the bed in. Apart from that, yeah. Ate a decorator once, maybe something ..." His voice trailed off and the smile that was beginning to spread across his face faded away. He looked unhappy and ill.

I went over to the bed and sat down beside him. "I think you could do with another cold compress," I recommended. "Your face is still swelling up. What about the rest of you? Is your body hurt at all? Your legs?"

"Back's a bit bruised. Right shoulder too, I think. That's about it, pet."

I helped him to remove his T-shirt and examined his torso. His slim yet muscular torso. 'Compact yet well muscled', as Xander had described it once. Well worth examining. Okay, gay now, but I could still appreciate the visuals.

'A bit bruised' turned out to mean a discolored area the size of a CD on his back, and a smaller counterpart on his shoulder, but no broken bones as far as I could tell. I bathed the bruises with cold water, not sure what else I could do, and then I helped Spike take off his boots and settle down in bed.

"Might as well get yourself off home, Red," Spike said. "Thanks for everything. Right treasure you are, pet. I'll not forget it."

"Hey, it's no biggy," I told him. "Like I said, you're part of the team."

Spike swallowed hard. "Really? Thanks. That means a lot. Really does."

"Um, no problem," I said. He really seemed to think it was a big deal, whereas I didn't see how I could have done anything else. Had we really been treating Spike so bad that he thought we'd just leave him to suffer? Maybe we had, so, one guilt trip coming up for me. "I'll come back and check up on you after class, okay?"

"You don't have to," Spike mumbled.

"I do so. I want to make sure you're okay, Spike. Hey, maybe Buffy would be free to come along?"

"No!" Spike snapped, pretty vehemently, and that was a big surprise to me. He shot up to a sitting position and then winced, like he'd hurt something with the sudden movement. He sank back down. "Don't want the Slayer to see me like this, Red."

"Okay, if you say so," I replied. I didn't understand Spike's attitude; surely Buffy had seen him in an equally bad state after his torture by Glory? What would be the harm in her seeing him in a beat-up state once again? But hey, it was his decision, and I would respect it. "What about Dawn?"

"Wouldn't mind seeing the Bit," Spike smiled, but then his face fell again. "Slayer's not happy about Nibblet coming to see me. She reckons I'm a bad influence. Anyway, it'd probably upset Dawn, me all bashed up like this."

"Oh, is that why you haven't been round? Well, I think that's just mean of Buffy. She left it to you to take Dawn to the hospital, so she must have been okay about it not long ago. But yeah, you're probably right about it upsetting Dawn, 'cause yeah, she's pretty fond of you. Maybe tomorrow, if you're feeling better, right? Okay, Spike, bye, see you this afternoon. You get some rest."