I woke up hurting and in all the wrong places. My right arm was blazing
with pain but I couldn’t move it. Maybe someone had ripped it off and
beaten me over the head with it, because that hurt too. Then I managed
to open my eyes and the first thing I saw was Harris. Torturing me was
one thing but making me hallucinate him was going too far. I made an
effort and managed to spit out, “Fuck off,” before my eyes closed
again. Heard him charge off, yelling for Giles and felt worse. Didn’t
want to see Giles. Knew it would hurt more than my arm. Pain was
bringing the memories back. Pity. Amnesia had its plus side.
I remembered everything I’d said before I went out the night before;
yelling at Giles, cursing the fucking Scoobies, fuck, I’d even told him
I wasn’t coming back, not even if he did pay me. I’d let him hurt me in
the shop and it hadn’t worked and I had run out of ideas. He’d gone
back to being silent, even when we were home; wouldn’t touch me,
wouldn’t look at me, and after a few hours I’d lost my patience and
stormed off to kill something. Probably not the best decision in the
world.
“He woke up and told me to...uh, go away,” Harris babbled. The room
felt full of people; I could feel them pressing against the air and I
tried to push them away without looking at them.
“He moved his arm!” Yeah, I’m gifted, I thought. Christ. I forced
myself to open my eyes again, focus, and speak distinctly.
“Fuck off – all of you.”
Awkward silence. Faces were moving around; why wouldn’t they keep
still? Made me feel dizzy.
“Spike? We thought you were dead.”
Dawn. For her, I made an effort. “Don’t stick around after, pet. Go
dusty, remember?”
“Give him some space. Everyone out. I’m going to start the spell.” What
the fuck was Red talking about?
“No, you bloody well aren’t!” I snarled it out, game face on. Helped
the pain a bit. The demon didn’t care about suffering when there were
people around who needed a good killing.
No one left. Guess I wasn’t scaring them or they wanted to see Willow
turn me into something she could step on.
Giles was standing at the back of the room, leaning against the wall,
arms folded, head down. When I said that his head jerked up, eyes flat.
He pushed them aside, came over to the bed and smacked me on the head.
It hurt. Not hard enough to be more than a brush of his hand really,
but my head throbbed viciously. “Fangs away, Spike, or I’ll finish the
job that demon started last night. You’re hurt and this spell of
Willow’s will help. Lie still, shut up and behave.”
“’Behave?’ Going to make me, Giles? Guess you might find a few square
inches with no bruises. Course; not all down to the demon are they?
Made a few yourself, didn’t you?” Meant it to be nasty and it was.
Giles looked hurt. Lost. Then his lips tightened and I felt a flicker
of apprehension. He looked pissed off again. I wasn’t sure I was up to
dealing with him angry when I felt like this.
I shut my eyes again and heard people finally leaving. One heartbeat
stayed behind and I sighed and took a look. Harris.
“I saved your life last night,” he said.
“I remember.” He’d come out of nowhere and called out a warning; meant
the demon’s clawed hand had missed my head and just sliced into my arm
instead.
“I carried you here. You bled all over me. You were unconscious by then
or you’d probably have been cursing me. Spent the night going after
whatever Willow and Tara needed to patch you up. Called in sick because
I’d probably hammer my hand flat I’m so tired today.” He did look rough.
“This the part where I say ‘thanks’ and we bond with a hug?”
“Not if you want that arm to stay attached.” He stood up, hesitated.
“Spike. I hate you. I really do. Don’t hate Giles though. If he wants
you, he can have you, though I still don’t know why – never mind.”
“Not up to you to say.”
“No. No it isn’t. We owe him an apology for trying.” He didn’t sound
convinced about it.
“Owe me one too.”
“Don’t hold your breath waiting.” Now that was said with conviction.
“Vampire. Don’t breathe.”
“You are sick, aren’t you? That was lame.” Harris had a point. My head
was aching and I wanted to sleep, but I had a feeling I might not wake
up if I did. If Red was set on doing a spell, God knows how I’d end up.
Enthusiastic amateurs were a pain.
“Sorry. Come back later and I’ll tell you just what I think of your
schemes and plans and fucking selfish behaviour.”
“Save it. I got it from all the others after you and Giles left the
party. Never seen Willow so angry and Dawn –”
“They didn’t know you were going to do that? Set Giles up for a fall?”
Shouldn’t have made me feel pleased – what did I care? - but it
did.
“No, they didn’t. Don’t get thinking you’re Mr Popular though. They
were bothered about Giles, more than anything.”
“Giles.”
“Yes. Remember him? The man you just kicked in the teeth,
metaphorically speaking.” Xander sounded more sure of himself; course
he’d just managed to work the conversation around to something I’d done
wrong.
“Doesn’t want me anymore. Not if it means you lot getting on his back.
Shouldn’t have brought me here, back to him. You should have taken me
to my crypt.”
He sighed. “Stupid little bloodsucker, aren’t you? Wouldn’t say that if
you’d seen his face when I brought you in. Or if you’d seen what he did
to the demon who hurt you.”
That got me trying to sit up which was a terrible fucking idea. I
didn’t have the energy to scream but I tried. Harris grabbed me and
pushed me back. “Giles told you to stay still.”
“Fuck that! He went after that thing? By himself? And you let him, you
tosser?”
He poked me in the chest, hitting a sore spot, not that he had much
choice. “Wrong. We went after it. Want to see my back? Gone an
interesting shade of bruise. Giles took a hammering too.”
Let that sink in. “You killed it?”
“Giles did. Eventually.”
“Gave him some trouble?” It had given me plenty - course, I’d softened
it up a bit for them ...
“Trouble? No. I think he just liked hurting it.” He looked vaguely
admiring. “Giles was angry with it.”
I closed my eyes. Too much to think about. “Get Red back. Tell her she
can do the healing spell.”
“Want Giles too? He could hold your hand.” He said it with an effort
and I could tell he was trying to make a joke, not get in a dig.
Shook my head. Wanted it more than a relief from the pain but didn’t
want to see the disappointment in Giles’ eyes because I’d let him down
by leaving, given up so easily. “Tell him –”
“Not your fucking messenger, Spike.”
He got to the door before I could say it but I got it out eventually.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Please.”
Still a git.
Red patched me up, bit of chanting, way too many candles and something
to drink that was mostly blood but tasted vile enough that I guessed
she’d doctored it up. She didn’t say anything but she smiled at me when
she left. Tried to remember the last time she’d done that. Couldn’t.
Maybe she never had.
Heard the door open and close as they all left and the house settled
down. Giles was moving about a bit, but he didn’t come near me and I
went to sleep after a while, feeling my body healing and taking all my
energy to do it.
Woke up when the cuff snapped around my wrist on the arm that hadn’t
got hurt.
“Giles?”
He ignored me, pulled my arm up and fastened the other part of the cuff
to the bed.
“What are you playing at?”
He looked at me then. “I’m not playing, Spike. I never was. Can you
lift your injured arm?”
I tried; still stiff but it felt attached again. “Looks like it.”
“Good.” Snap, snap.
“Uh, Giles ...”
“Shut up.”
“No!”
He reached out and grabbed something, held it up. A gag. Fine. I
settled for glaring at him and he waited long enough to be sure I
wasn’t going to talk and then sat down on the bed, looking down at his
hands.
“You left. Without permission. You got brought back by Xander covered
with so much blood -” His voice was level, almost bored, but his hands
were shaking. “You required the efforts of four people to keep you from
losing your arm. You also needed blood and there was no time to get it.”
I opened my mouth to tell him I was sorry and his head lifted, eyes
widening in a warning. He rolled up his sleeve; showed me a mark. “You
couldn’t feed. We drew blood and spooned it into you.”
‘We’? He knew what I wanted to know and he told me. “Tara, Xander and
myself. Dawn wanted to but it wasn’t needed. Willow was too busy with
the healing.”
“Why, Giles?” Didn’t care if he gagged me, as long as he told me.
He stared at me, looking almost shy. “They ... did it for me. I never
quite realised how much they –”
“Love you?”
He ducked his head, uncomfortable with the thought that people he’d
known for years might care about him. “Something like that.”
Felt tired. I was glad Giles had sorted it out with them; he’d lost
Buffy and I didn’t think he could stand losing them too, but I wasn’t
sure where it left me. Two weeks and I’d got them thinking about him
again, and about sodding time too, but did that mean he didn’t need me
now? Fuck. What about me? I think that was the first time I admitted to
myself without trying to hide it, that the bargain wasn’t all for his
benefit. “So, it’s all sorted and it’s soppy families all around.
Great. Couldn’t be happier. If you’ll just let me go, I’ll bugger off
and you can all pretend this never happened.”
“Is that what you want, Spike?”
I shrugged as best I could with my hurt arm, staring at the window.
Sunny, from what I could see through the curtain. I’d have to stick
around a few hours yet.
He took hold of my face in one hand, turned it to him. “I believe I
told you not to do that. Answer me properly, please. Do you want to go?”
Had enough of drama and I owed him for treating me like I meant
something, even if it hadn’t lasted. I lied to him, meeting his eyes
the way he liked, trying to make it easy for him to chuck me out. “It
was fun, but I’ve had enough, Giles. No hard feelings?”
“None whatsoever, Spike.” Cool, polite, vintage Giles.
He stood up.
“Where are you going?” I pulled at the cuffs to remind him that I
wasn’t going anywhere until he unlocked them.
“Lunch. A rather late one, but still...”
“Let me go, then.” I felt pinned down, with that faint quiver that came
from being tied by Giles making my body wake up and take notice.
Started to wonder what was going on. Cuffing me - if he wanted me out
of his house, he was going about it a funny way. Looked at him, but his
face wasn’t giving anything away.
“No, that’s not going to happen, Spike. I could say it’s because you’re
still sick, but you’re well on the mend. I could point out that it’s
daylight, but I do have blankets you could borrow. No. You’re staying
because I don’t want you to go. If you try, when I eventually stop
being so angry that tying you up is all that’s saving you from a
beating, I’ll drag you back here. If you tell me you hate me, I’ll
ignore you; if you misbehave, I’ll teach you manners.” He paused,
looked back at me and said softly, “If I thought it really bothered
you, I still wouldn’t let you go.”
“Why?”
His face went still and his eyes held the same expression the demon
must have seen as he died. “Mine, remember?”
“I didn’t mean to do it, Giles.” Fuck. I sounded pitiful. What had
Willow given me? I didn’t - quite - believe the last part. He
wouldn’t keep me against my will and he couldn’t, not really. But I
liked hearing him say that, hearing him claim me, and he knew it.
That’s when I knew he’d forgiven me for saying I was going.
He sighed and the tension dissolved. “You never bloody do.”
He walked back and leaned over, kissed me hard until I nearly broke the
bed post trying to get my arm around him to bring him closer. “I killed
it, you know,” he said abruptly, getting us away from what we’d been
saying before we said something we’d regret.
“Harr –Xander told me. Left out all the details. You tell me.”
“Well - you should rest.” Would have sounded more convincing if
he hadn’t sat down on the bed and got comfortable.
“Fuck that. Tell me how you killed it.”
He grinned, looked about ten. “We found it by the Alpert crypt –” he
began.
“Uh, Giles? Going to take these off first?” I rattled the cuffs again.
He looked at me. “Why?”
“I could pretend to be the demon,” I offered, waiting for the smile I
knew I’d get, the reluctant, slow one.
“I killed the demon, Spike. How far do you want me to go with a
re-enactment?”
I tried pursing my lips and looking wistful. “Just want to get a good
idea of what you did to the ugly bastard. Talking’s not the same as a
visual.”
“Really?” He sounded sceptical.
“No. Well, yes, but it’s not just that.”
Giles frowned. “So why do you want me to uncuff you?” His eyes widened.
“Are they hurting you? Willow will kill me if those stitches break
before you’ve healed.”
“Relax, Giles.” Wasn’t going to trick him into unlocking them. “Not
hurting me being like this. Just – just want to –”
“What?” he prompted. “Spike, just tell me. Brutal frankness may not be
one of your most endearing qualities, but it has its uses.”
I stared at him. I could beg him to fuck me, and not care how loud I
screamed his name when I came, but telling him I wanted the cuffs off
and him in bed beside me so I could just fucking hold him, get my hands
on him when I thought I’d never get chance to do it again... couldn’t
say that. Not that I was embarrassed; whatever Willow had made me drink
might have been magical, but I would have put money on it being backed
up with good old fashioned drugs; I felt as inclined to run off at the
mouth as I did when I’d drunk too much. No; didn’t want to say it
because it wasn’t fair on him. Two weeks and I wanted to fucking cuddle
as if we were – no. Might be the drugs talking, might not, but I didn’t
want to scare him off either way. Scared me, too.
“Oh, fuck. Giles, I just want to know you trust me not to run
off, that’s all. And I can’t sleep like this and my eyes are closing.
Red doped me up good and proper.”
He studied me. “I think there’s more to it than that, but very well.”
He stood to unlock the cuffs and then hesitated as if he didn’t want to
leave. “I’ll let you rest.”
“Don’t have to go.” He frowned and I said, “I still want to hear about
the fight.” Couldn’t help it; I reached out and took his wrist, tugging
him back down on the bed. His hand turned and closed around mine for a
moment, reassuringly warm. It was enough.
“You were mad going up against it alone. Did you see the size of it?
Eight foot, easily.”
I nodded. “Tricky part was that claw. Razor-sharp, that was.”
He moved to lie beside me, pulled me close without commenting on it at
all, and started to describe a fight that got more epic with every
sentence. I drifted off to sleep with Giles’ voice soft in my ear,
telling me about blood and guts, slicing and dicing, and slept like a
baby.
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Nine
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