Chapter 31
“Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments. Love is not love/Which alters when it alteration finds,/Or bends with the remover to remove./O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark/That looks on tempests and is never shaken;/It is the star to every wand’ring bark,/Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken./Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks/Within his bending sickle’s compass come;/Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,/But bears it out even to the edge of doom./If this be error and upon me proved,/I never writ, nor no man ever loved.” ~William Shakespeare, “Sonnet 116”
Buffy didn’t even have time to get her eyes open before the nausea hit her. She rolled over onto her side, beginning to retch, feeling strong hands on her head and back. Spike’s calm voice immediately reassured her. “That’s right, luv. I’ve got you. Not going anywhere.”
By the time she stopped vomiting, Buffy was gasping, her stomach muscles aching as tears streamed from her eyes. She tried opening them, but the light hurt so badly that she squeezed them tightly shut again. “Spike—”
“Hush,” he murmured. “Take a sip and spit.”
She felt the glass at her lips and did as directed, opening one eye just enough to see the wastebasket Spike was holding under her head. “What happened?”
“Those bastards hit you with two tranq darts, and enough chemicals to put an elephant down. Reckon you probably have the worst hangover you’ll ever have.” She felt the bed move as he stood. “Just sit tight. I’m going to close those curtains and get rid of this mess.”
Buffy was too miserable to even move. She had a splitting headache, and her stomach was still roiling; she just hoped that Spike got back before she heaved again, because she wasn’t sure she could sit up, let alone get to the bathroom.
She heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and then a few seconds later heard it again. “I’m going to shut the curtains,” Spike said, wanting to let her know that it was only him. There was the soft sound of moving fabric, and then Buffy tried opening her eyes again.
Even the dim light hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as bad. She moved her head slightly as Spike came to sit next to her on the bed. “More water?” he asked.
“Please.” He wouldn’t let her take more than a little bit at a time, even though her mouth and throat were parched. “Spike—”
“Don’t want you getting sick again,” he said softly. “Best to go slow for right now.”
When she’d finally had enough, Spike put the glass back on the nightstand, and Buffy reached for him, her hand finding his. “Where are we?”
“A hotel I found awhile back,” Spike replied. “Looked into coming here for your birthday, just the two of us, before everything went to hell. I already called your mum, and she said she’d let the rest of them know what happened.”
“How long was I out?” she asked.
Spike hesitated. “Over twenty-four hours. I was about ready to take you to the hospital. Didn’t want to, because the Initiative might be watching for that, but when you wouldn’t wake up…”
Buffy opened her eyes, trying to sit up with some difficulty; she hadn’t been this weak since she’d had the flu, not long before Spike got to town. He helped her to sit with the support of his arm behind her shoulders, propping her up against the headboard.
She got a better look at the room they were in; it was nicer than she’d expected. The walls were wood-paneled and wallpapered, the colors dark and rich. Although Buffy didn’t know much about that sort of thing, the furniture appeared to be mostly antiques, and the bed was luxuriously soft. It wasn’t what she’d expected for a hideaway, and she figured that was probably a good thing, since the Initiative wouldn’t expect them to be in a place like this either.
“I’m sorry,” Spike said softly.
Buffy looked at him in surprise. “For what?”
“Letting them…” he trailed off. “I should have been quicker, luv. You never should have been hurt.”
“I’ll be fine, Spike,” she replied. “Once this stuff is out of my system, I’ll be back to my normal self.”
He shook his head. “If I hadn’t left, this never would have happened.”
“And if I hadn’t agreed to work with the Initiative, you wouldn’t have left,” Buffy replied. “We’ve been through this, Spike. We both screwed up.”
Spike stood, walking away from the bed, his back to her. She wished she had the strength to go to him, but sitting up was about all she was capable of right then. “I never told you,” Spike said quietly. “About Angelus and Dru.”
“You told me enough,” Buffy said. “Angelus tortured you and Drusilla helped.”
Spike was quiet for a long moment. “That’s true, but it’s not the whole truth. I managed to escape once, before Angelus got cursed with his soul. Dru knew about it. She even helped me, brought me blood to make me stronger. She made me think she still loved me, and when I freed myself, she waited until I’d gotten as far as the door, just inches away from freedom, before she called Angelus in. She’d never meant to let me go; she was just messing with my head. Then she helped Angelus teach me a lesson. That’s where most of the scars are from.”
Buffy could see the parallels, even with the drugs in her system slowing her brain down. She hadn’t meant to betray Spike; her intention had been to protect him, but it probably hadn’t appeared that way to him. “Spike—”
“I know you didn’t mean it that way,” Spike said earnestly, turning to look at her finally. “Didn’t mean it made it any easier to let it go after what they did to me.”
Buffy swallowed. “I wish you had told me how it made you feel. I knew you’d been hurt, but I had no idea that they’d made you feel as though you were worthless or something.”
His expression was rueful. “I know, luv. I just—I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t bear to know you thought less of me, and then when you agreed to work with them…”
“I love you,” Buffy said. “I told you that a long time ago, and I meant it then. I don’t—when I saw what they were doing, I understood why you were so upset. I hadn’t imagined—I thought it was just a mistake, and then—” She broke off, not knowing how to explain. “Can we just go back to where we were?”
“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” Spike said quietly. “Where we were before—we weren’t being honest with each other. Figure we can move on from here, though.”
“Then can you just be with me right now?” Buffy asked, her eyes filling with tears, the after-effects of the drugs and her fear overwhelming her. She was scared to death that Spike didn’t love her anymore, at least not enough to be with her. The realization of how close she’d come to death hit her hard.
He was at her side in two long strides, pulling her to him. Buffy clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder, shaking with the force of fear and relief in equal measure. “It’s going to be okay,” Spike promised, holding her tightly. “It’s all going to be okay, luv. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get through this together.”
They clung to each other as the sun set and the room grew dark, until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
~~~~~
Wesley watched Willow, his head propped up on one hand. He loved watching her sleep, the way he could almost see dreams moving behind her closed eyes, her slow smile when she opened her eyes to see him there.
They had been up late the night before, waiting for Spike’s call letting them know that Buffy was awake and all was well. It had been nearly two in the morning before the call came in; he’d apologized for falling asleep and then told them that the Slayer was fine, aside from being a little sick from the drugs.
Giles had ordered them to stay put, telling Spike that he would work on keeping them both safe from his end, but that they needed to keep out of sight for the time being.
Wesley had offered Willow a ride home from the Summers’ house, but she’d declined, saying that she would rather stay with him, especially since it was a Friday night and she didn’t have to worry about classes the next morning.
They had made some headway on the permanent locator spell, but it would probably be another day or two before they were ready to attempt it. With a little luck, they would know more about what they could expect from the Initiative by then. If Spike and Buffy were forced to stay away from Sunnydale, the locator spell could be that much more useful.
Although they still had to find something to tie it to.
Wesley could see her beginning to wake and brushed the hair out of her face, his smile matching her own.
“Mmm…what time is it?”
“Not quite nine,” he replied. “Go back to sleep.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Why would I want to do that when there are so many other things we could be doing?”
His smile broadened. “I have no idea. We were up pretty late, though.”
“I’m young.” Willow gave him an impish grin as she stretched. “You, on the other hand, are old, and need all the sleep you can get.”
“Take that back,” he ordered. “I am not old.”
“Ancient,” she insisted, spoiling her serious face with a giggle.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that,” he challenged, beginning to tickle her.
She shrieked with laughter, scrambling across the bed to get away, only to have Wesley grab her hand and tug her back. Willow fell across him in a laughing heap.
It felt good for both of them to laugh after the fear and tension of the last few days. They were all safe for the moment, and their friends were together again; they would take the respite where they could get it.
“Do you really think I’m old?” Wesley asked after a moment, a plaintive note in his voice.
Willow snorted. “Oh, please, Wes. You’re not that old.”
“I’m older than you by a good bit,” he retorted.
She lifted her head to look at him. “Does that bother you?”
“How could it bother me when I’m with you?” he asked, perfectly serious. “But does it bother you?”
Willow sat up, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Why should it?” she asked. “You’re successful, fun, handsome…” Willow ran her fingers down his bare chest. “I’m not seeing the bad anywhere in that.”
“Yes, but—” He stopped. “Don’t mind me. It must be the lack of sleep.”
Willow shook her head, keeping a hand on his chest. Wesley would have been able to brush her off easily, but he remained still, his eyes on her face. “I don’t think of you as old,” Willow finally said after a long silence. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever thought of myself as young.”
He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “What did you think of yourself as?”
“I don’t know,” Willow replied. “But I always got along better with adults than with people my own age. I mean, Xander was always my best friend, since we were in footie pajamas. We looked out for each other, you know?”
Wesley nodded. “I think I understand.”
“Xander and Jesse and me—we were the three stooges, and then Jesse was killed and Buffy came, all at the same time. Buffy was so—so cool,” Willow said earnestly. “She was brave and strong and everything I wasn’t, but she makes the people around her better, you know? She makes you want to try to be all the things that she is, so you can hang out with her.”
“And Oz?” Wesley asked, noticing that she’d left him out.
Willow gave him a sad smile. “Oz was cool, too. He was the first guy who really noticed me, and he made me believe I was special.”
“You are.”
She looked away. “Sometimes I believe that, but more often I look in the mirror, and I still see plain, reliable Willow Rosenberg.”
“And I look at you sometimes and I wonder how it is that I could be with such a charming, intelligent woman,” Wesley replied softly. “I keep waiting to wake up, or for you to wake up and decide I’m not such a prize.”
Willow laughed. “And I see this really brave guy who used to scream at the sight of vampires.”
He gave her a sour look. “You had to bring that up?”
“You’ve changed,” Willow pointed out. “People call you now when they need somebody.”
“I keep waiting for them to figure out that I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time,” Wesley confessed, then paused. “May I ask you something?”
Willow knew it was serious when he had that expression on his face. “Okay.”
“That night in the haunted house—what was your fear?”
Willow didn’t hesitate. “That the magic would get out of hand, and I’d lose control. What was yours?”
“That I was shut up in a closet,” Wesley replied. “I don’t care for small, dark spaces.”
Willow made a face. “That would be pretty scary.”
“I think I’m in love with you,” he confessed suddenly.
Willow’s heart leapt. “Good, because that makes two of us.”
~~~~~
Spike could feel Buffy begin to stir in his arms and loosened his grip slightly, not wanting to frighten her. She had trembled for hours, both before and after going to sleep, as much from fear as the drugs they’d put into her system. He’d had to help her to the bathroom when she’d woken in the middle of the night, which was when he’d called Giles to let the others know that the Slayer was awake, and that she would be alright.
He hoped so, anyway. It was always hard to tell with heavy drugs.
She moaned a little as she woke, but Spike waited until her eyes opened before he asked, “How are you feeling, luv?”
“A little better,” Buffy said. “I think I might actually be able to stand up on my own now.”
“That’s something,” he encouraged. “You want to get up?”
“Not really,” she replied, burrowing back down into the covers closer to him. “I think I’d like to lay here a little longer.”
He smiled, pulling her closer. “According to your Watcher, we’re officially on vacation until he can clear a few things up, so you can sleep as long as you like.”
“What about you?” she asked, sounding sleepy. “You can sleep, too.”
“Don’t need it,” Spike replied. “I only need a few hours at a time, and I got that. You want me to go pick up a few things for you?”
Buffy’s eyes fluttered open again. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Positive,” Spike said. “I wouldn’t go out if I thought any different. Besides, I didn’t leave those bastards in any kind of shape to tail us, and I was careful. We weren’t followed.”
She sighed, her eyes drifting shut again. “‘kay, but hurry back.”
“You got it.” Spike waited until her breathing was slow and even before rising from the bed, pulling on his boots. He’d left the rest of his clothing on, wanting to be ready for anything on the off-chance that someone had managed to find them. He didn’t necessarily want to leave her, as Buffy was still in no condition to fight; he wanted to send the dart he’d kept to Giles, however, just to make sure she would be all right, as well as pick up a few other things.
Spike had been keeping a traveling case in the trunk of his car for the last couple of weeks, ever since Buffy had agreed to work with the Initiative. Although he’d never planned on leaving her, he had been well aware that he might need to make a quick getaway.
There had also been the quiet voice in the back of his mind that had warned that Buffy might turn against him. That the soldiers might get to her, convince her that he was nothing more than a monster.
Those doubts had served him well enough that he now had everything he needed for a week or two in the trunk, but Buffy had the clothes on her back and nothing more. Spike knew she’d need both fresh clothing and toiletries, and he had no problem purchasing both for her.
Besides, he was still feeling guilty over her getting hurt. If only he’d been a little faster, or trusted her a little more, or been a little stronger. Spike knew that he might have done a dozen things differently that would have prevented Buffy from nearly getting killed.
Hell, he might have kidnapped her when she’d first said she was going to work with the soldiers, and then held her until she came to her senses. Not that it would have been the best option, but he could have.
The self-recriminations kept him company as Spike picked up the things he knew Buffy would need for a week’s stay, as well as a few things he knew she’d like. By the time he made it back to the hotel, it was late afternoon, and the Slayer was sitting up in bed watching TV.
“I see someone’s feeling better,” Spike said.
Buffy shrugged. “I can stand and walk, and I think I might even be getting hungry, so I’m definitely improved.”
“You want room service?” he asked. “I can call for it.”
“Let’s give it a little while,” Buffy replied. “I think my stomach might be ready for solids, but it’s early yet.” Her eyes lit up when she saw the bags. “Oooh! Presents!”
“Yeah, I picked up a few things for you, since we’re going to be here for a bit. Don’t know when we’ll make it back to Sunnydale.”
She winced. “Did you talk to Mom at all?”
“Not last night,” Spike said. “You can call her, though. Just be careful about letting her know where we are.”
“I don’t know where we are,” Buffy pointed out, taking the bags from him and beginning to look through them. “You still haven’t said anything other than we’re at some kind of inn.”
Spike sat on the edge of the bed, watching as she pulled articles of clothing out of the bags. Mostly it was just basics—a couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts, a set of pajamas, as well as personal hygiene items. He’d thought he knew her fairly well until he’d tried to go clothes-shopping for her; although Spike had no problem with sizes, he wasn’t sure what she’d like. “Is it okay?”
“It’s fine,” Buffy assured him. “It’ll be nice just to have something clean to wear.” She gave a little cry of delight when she saw the bubble bath. “Perfect. That tub is huge!”
“You should go soak,” he encouraged. “Get some of the ache out of your muscles.”
Buffy frowned at him. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What are you going to eat, for starters?” she asked. “Room service is fine for me, but I don’t think they have what you need.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. “Actually, they do.”
Buffy blinked. “Excuse me?”
“That’s one of the reasons I thought about bringing you here for your birthday,” Spike said. “Robert, one of my clients, told me about this place. Demons and humans are welcome here, and the owner has a reputation for making sure everyone who comes in leaves in one piece. It’s very exclusive, and there’s no way that the Initiative will ever find out that we’re here.”
“Oh.” Buffy stared at him, and Spike wondered if he’d stepped over the line. This was the safest—and nicest—place he could think to bring her, but if she was uncomfortable, he wouldn’t ask her to stay.
Just when he thought she was going to let him have it, Buffy’s face softened and she took his hand, putting the bottle of bubble bath in it. “Join me?” she invited.
Spike smiled, feeling something loosen in his chest. Maybe the Slayer did understand after all.