Chapter Seventeen
A/N: For those that are a little shocked at my Xander treatment, I have issues, and I am working through them. Those at Crumbling Walls know this, and accept it. Lol. However, if it bothers you too much, read Speedway, I treat him much better there (end shameless plug). Lisa
Spike came awake with a groan, two things apparent almost immediately. One, his body was one white hot throb of pain. Two, his arms were tied above his head, his sockets burning with the strain of holding his body weight. He tried to pry his eyes open, but the pain in his head was nearly unbearable. The last thing he remembered was the dizzying walk to Xander’s old jalopy. Then, when they had reached it, the blinding lights that had exploded behind his eyes, before blackness over took him.
Forgetting about seeing for the moment, he tried to center himself so he could pick up the sounds in the room. He had to single out the roar in his head, and push it aside, desperately searching for the sound of Xander’s heartbeat. He finally heard it, behind him. Along with the sound of wood hitting metal. For the first time in five years, Spike felt fear. Not since Dru attached herself to her daddy and ventured into hell had he felt terror like this. He was tied up, lightheaded, and nauseous, with no immediate means of escape. He thanked the God that had forsaken him that Matt had gotten away. He found himself begging that same God to get him out of this. He wanted his life, his woman and his child. Maybe he didn’t deserve them, but he had been blessed for a reason, and he couldn’t believe that it would all be snatched away from him. Or, maybe that was the price he had to pay. His life for theirs.
Finally prying his eyes open, he ventured a look around. They seemed to be in some sort of abandoned barn, the interior empty and dim, even though Spike could smell sunrise coming. He looked down the length of his body, noticing for the first time that he was only wearing his jeans, the blood from his wounds staining his chest, stomach and the denim down to his knees. The angry hole in his stomach was finally starting to close, and he could feel the one in his back and chest starting to as well. His head throbbed, every time he tried to move it, making his vision swim black. He forced himself to stay awake, wanting to face his death head on.
“Whelp,” he croaked, trying to turn to see behind him. He heard a clatter like something being dropped on a table.
“Spike. You’re awake! Wanna drink?” Xander let out a giggle that would have had Spike smirking if it weren’t for the crossbow waiving around dangerously in his hand. A bottle of Jack was in his other hand, the contents half gone. He reeked of booze and sweat.
“No thanks. Got a bit of a headache,” Spike answered, wincing when the brunette giggled again.
“That’s funny. Too bad you’re evil, we coulda been friends,” he said with a snort, before tipping the bottle back again. Spike raised his scarred brow at that.
“You have me at a disadvantage, mate. What are you planning to do?” Xander shrugged a flannel clad shoulder, and sat down hard on the floor. Amazingly, he didn’t drop either of the two objects in his hands, even though he tipped dangerously to the side.
“Not sure. Had a few ideas. Thought ’bout bleeding you, seeing if you would turn to dust when you were empty. Like me, empty, empty. No love, no friends.” He snorted again, tears sliding sown his cheeks. “Even thought about just staking you. Thought that lacked. . .” He waved the bottle around as he searched for a word. “Poetry.” Another burst of laughter followed that. “Now, I thought, that I would bring in a tasty little morsle for you to chew on. Let you stew for a while. Let the bloodlust build up. But, I know that wouldn’t work, cause, I know my Willow. Such a pretty little Willow. She’s going to find us.” Spike felt hope bloom at those words.
“Then, why haven’t you taken care of me yet? Seems a touch sloppy on your part.” Spike knew he probably shouldn’t have said that when a bolt let loose and imbedded in his knee. “Augh.” He twisted in the chains, the smell of fresh blood assailing him. “Bloody hell.” Agony sliced up his leg, and his vision swam.
“Oops,” came the comment from the floor. “Just slipped.” Laughter again, cut off by the sloshing of liquor against glass. Xander pushed up from the floor, and staggered out of Spike’s sight again.
“Fuck!” Spike spat when he felt burning liquid sear his flesh.
“Ya know, Spike. I just don’t get it,” Xander started, his tone friendly. He let loose another stream of holy water from the water pistol in his hand, watching the burns form odd patterns. “What is it about vampires? You’re evil. Okay, so you have the benefit of being eternally young, which I will admit is cool. But, the whole blood drinking, sleeping with an animated corpse thing. I just don’t understand. And WHY would the Gods give you a child?” Confusion coated his words, as he started to walk in a circle around Spike, occasionally pulling the trigger to release more of the deadly liquid. The vampire struggled to stay quiet, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of any sound at all.
“Cause I’m so charming, maybe?” he offered, quirking a brow.
“Humph. Whatever.” Xander rolled his eyes, the action causing him to stagger a bit.
“Why aren’t you killing me, boy?”
“Eager to die?” Xander stopped, and turned his drunken eyes on the blonde.
“Not really, done it once, can’t say it was pleasant. I just can’t figure out what this is all about. You didn’t traumatize my son to keep me alive. Or, did you not plan ahead?” Guilt crossed Xander’s face at the mention of Matt, and the ramifications of what his actions at the carnival would have on the youngster.
“I didn’t want to hurt him. Or scare him. I just thought. . .they had to know that you couldn’t change. It’s impossible.”
“Who says? The Council of Wankers? They don’t know the first thing about vampires,” Spike snorted.
“Oh, so, you’re all just a bunch of regular Joe’s who just happen to think that world destruction is a fun past time, and that blood makes an excellent after dinner drink?” the brunette quipped, his face calm.
“No. Most of ’em are evil. There are a few that aren’t. And not because they’re cursed,” Spike said. He was starting to get the distinct impression that Xander wasn’t going to kill him. He was stalling, and the blonde couldn’t figure out why.
“Really?” Xander seemed to consider this. “Why then? What makes you so special?”
“Has a lot to do with who you were before you got turned. Liam was a bastard to begin with, that just transferred to Angelus. Darla was a whore. Dru, well, Dru was innocent. Angel tainted her before he turned her.”
“What about YOU? What about you makes it concrete that you won’t ever kill again?”
“Lost the taste for it,” Spike said, honestly. He never fully understood himself, why he had given it up. Part of him thought that maybe it had something to do with the bite that he had given Buffy, like maybe he had linked into her soul, and it kept him from doing it. “I love her, Xander. You can turn it however many different directions you want. It won’t change. Dru turned me, Buffy saved me.”
“But that doesn’t explain WHY,” the brunette whined.
“What do you want me to say, whelp? I haven’t quite figured out myself. I lived for over a century, doing exactly what vampires are supposed to do, and enjoying it. One day with Buffy and everything changes. ONE DAY! I don’t know why, I don’t know how. Nor, do I particularly care. It just is.” Spike jerked hard on his restraints when he felt the blade of a knife slice into his kidney.
“It just is? IT JUST IS? That’s all you can come up with? I don’t get it. She’s the vampire SLAYER. She’s not supposed to fall in love with you. Leave behind her friends, her mother. Especially her mother.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly supposed to fall in love with her, either.” Spike blinked, struggling to stay conscious, as Xander carelessly inflicted new wounds. He needed blood, soon, or all Buffy would find was a big pile of dust. He still didn’t think that Xander would intentionally kill him. But he was drunk enough to do it by accident. “And your attitude is the reason she left. You lied to her about the spell. Then you show up in L.A. and try to shove your hate down her throat. You think her bloody calling is so sacred, you try giving up everything, with the knowledge that you probably won’t live past eighteen, to save the world on a weekly basis. Maybe she would have stayed if you didn’t lie. Maybe she wouldn’t have run if you had just been her friend.” His head whipped around with the force of the punch Xander hit him with.
“SHUT UP! What do you know about friendship? You are an evil, soulless thing.” Xander got right up in his face, the stench of alcohol filtering the air between them. “How many friends have you had in your pathetic unlife? Hm?” Spike refused to answer, because, the whelp was right. Aside from Druscilla, Spike had spent the majority of his life alone. Until Buffy. His hazy mind brought up an image of Mark, and even Willow. He’d only known the Indian a week, did that make them friends? “You can’t tell me, can you? That’s cause the number is a big zero. Well, I had two friends. Yeah, they were girls, but I loved them. And they have both turned on me. For what?” Xander reappeared in front of Spike again, a knife replacing the crossbow. “You. That’s what. And that Indian. They don’t need me.” That last part was said in a whisper, and Spike’s pain addled senses had trouble picking it up.
“Xander. What the hell are you going to do?” Spike’s voice was tired, and he felt the call of sleep as the sun rose over the horizon, the deadly rays filtering through the gaps in the boards of the old building.
“I. . .”
Just then, the squeal of tires and the sound of skittering rocks came from the outside.
“They’re here,” Xander said, moving quicker than Spike thought possible in his inebriated state. He moved to the mechanism holding Spike upright, and released. The blonde hit the floor with a thud, pain singing through his body. Xander looked down at the prone vampire, and they both realized, in the same instant, that he was in the position of the door. Once it was flung open, the vampire would be bathed in sunlight. Spike tried to push himself up to move, as the sound of pounding footsteps became audible. They apparently weren’t worried about stealth. Before Spike could register what was going on, he felt a pair of unsteady arms wrapping around his chest, and pulling him out of the way, just as the door flung open wide.
“Put him the fuck down you sicko,” Anne spat, taking long strides with her short legs to reach them. Spike hit the floor when she let loose a kick, sending Xander careening backwards. He groaned loud, growling when the dust from the floor rubbed into his wounds. Warm, gentle hands were on his chest, Willow’s soft voice filling the air around him. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh overlaid her words, making it hard for him to hear. The pain started to become bearable, with each passing second of her hands on him. He hazarded cracking open one eye, to look at the redhead above him. She was kneeling beside him, her head thrown back, and ethereal type light glowing around her. The heat of her hands intensified and spread, making him feel like he was being wrapped in a warm blanket. His head slumped to the side, and he had a perfect view of the destruction Anne was bestowing on Xander. He could just see Mark, hovering behind Willow, keeping an eye on the fight, but every second or so, his gaze landed on Spike.
Anne didn’t speak as she threw punches and kicks at Xander. The fact that he wasn’t even trying to fight back not registering. Not that she would have cared if he had. This was the final straw. She was tired of him trying to run her life, doing things that HE thought were right. First with Angel, and now with Spike.
Her right cross to his jaw sent him spinning through the air, his blood stained her knuckles, the sound of his groans filled her ears. Her vision was hazy with rage. He terrorized her son, tortured her mate, she was beyond caring. She let out a frustrated scream when her next punch was caught. She whirled on the offender, nearly knocking Mark back on his ass.
“What are you doing?” Anne growled, her voice tight, her jaw clenched. She could have made him let go, but some part of her brain recognized that would be bad. HE wasn’t who she wanted to hurt.
“Annie, he’s out cold. Don’t do something you’ll regret,” Mark told her, black eyes piercing through her haze. She turned to look over her shoulder at the prone figure on the floor. Xander was sprawled on his back, blood pouring form his nose and lip, his eyes blooming a brilliant purple over the yellowing older bruises. She knew that his chest was probably just as bruised. “Willow needs your help with Spike.” Instantly, Xander was forgotten, and she was moving towards her friend and her man.
Mark walked over to Xander, his dark hair falling over his shoulder as he looked down at the man. Sympathy and pity coursed through him as he looked down at him. Mark sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Everything had been moving on fast forward since Matt found them at the carnival. He and Willow had left and gone straight to his house, gathering the supplies she would need to find the vampire. Then, they had rushed to Anne’s who was on the phone trying desperately to find a sitter for Matt. Finally, Molly called and said that she could come over. Matt had been terrified, crying for his daddy, and clinging to Anne like she would disappear if he let go. Finally, exhaustion had overcome him, and he had fallen asleep. Anne laid him down in his bed, draping the child in his father’s duster, before going to her bedroom to help Willow. Mark had tried to come up with a story for Molly, so she wouldn’t think they were all nuts, or call the cops. He’d finally settled on telling her that Spike had been in an accident, and that’s what all the confusion was about, hoping she didn’t shine light through all the obvious holes in the explanation. Molly had thankfully accepted it. Then, the girls had emerged from the room, a steely look of determination on Anne’s face. Grief, fear, and anger warred across Willow’s, and she clutched onto Mark’s hand as they made their way to his car. Anne was in no condition to drive, and she wasn’t as familiar with the areas outside of town as he was. Willow had shown him the circle on the map that the spell indicated, and Mark knew exactly where to go. He’d barely skidded to a stop when Anne was out of the car, followed closely by Willow.
When they burst through the doors, Anne lost all reason when she saw Xander handling Spike. It looked to Mark like he was trying to pull the blonde out of the way of the sunlight streaming through the door. Annie was too far gone to care. The Indian let her have her licks, but anymore and she would have killed him, and he didn’t want her to have to live with that kind of guilt. With one final look at the brunette, he walked over to where the girls were frantically hovering over Spike. The vampire had passed out from blood loss, and his pale skin had taken on a sickly pallor. The front of his jeans was completely covered with blood, and his hair was sticky with it.
“How’s he doing?” Mark asked, kneeling down. In this state, Spike looked like a corpse, and even though Mark knew that’s what he technically was, it was still unnerving.
“I don’t know. The healing spell was designed for humans, not the undead. I think the bleeding has stopped. He needs blood. That’s the only thing I know for sure,” Willow said, her wide green eyes full of worry. She hazarded a glance over at Xander, her pale skin blanching even more. Anne was stroking gentle fingers over Spike’s brow, silent tears tracking down her face.
“Mark, give me your knife,” she said, not looking up at him. His brow creased in confusion as he did, the velvet box he had in his pocket coming out as well. Green eyes widened when Willow saw it, looking away quickly as the implications hit her. Mark just put it back, handing Anne his pocket knife, not realizing that the redhead had seen it. He watched as Anne opened the knife and slid it across her wrist. He gasped as the blood bubbled forth, and she immediately put it against Spike’s slack lips.
“Come on, baby,” she cooed, stroking his cheek. She sighed in satisfaction when she felt his lips start to move, instinct kicking in and making him drink. She let him until she started to feel light headed, then pulled her wrist away, wiping the blood that stained his lips away. “Let’s get him home. There’s more blood there.” She moved to pick him up, swaying a bit. Mark pushed her out of the way and did it himself, cradling the blonde against his chest.
“Find something to cover him with,” he said, staring at the patch of sunlight. Anne and Willow began to search through the near empty building, Willow finally finding a horse blanket in the corner. It stank from mold and age, but, it would have to do. “Let’s go.” He walked outside, leaving the girls to follow. Willow stopped next to Xander, an idea playing in the back of her mind.
“Willow, let’s go,” Anne said, pausing by the door.
“Go ahead, send Mark back once he gets you home,” Willow said, kneeling next to her fallen friend.
“What are you going to do?” Suspicion made her words sharp, as she watched the redhead unbutton the flannel shirt.
“Just go, Buffy. I’ll take care this.”
“Willow! What about all he’s done. . .” Willow’s green eyes snapped to hers.
“You forgave Spike.” Her words stopped Anne cold. Her head jerked back, almost like she had been slapped. She looked down at Xander, then back up at Willow. “He won’t bother you again. Just, go. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“I love you Will.” Anne felt the need to say it, just so the women understood each other. She wasn’t mad at the Wiccan need to help him, she understood it. Willow’s face softened, and she gave Anne a soft smile.
“I love you too. Send Mark back.”
“Okay. Be careful” The witch nodded and went back to her task. Anne gave them one last look before turning away to take Spike home.
A/N: Sorry if this chapter sucks, I didn’t want to kill Xander, so, had to figure out what to do. One more chapter, I think, and this is done. Lisa