Chapter Twelve
Spike tossed the unconscious body of the vampire he was holding aside. He realized the stake was plastic the second it entered the heart and his unwilling accomplice didn’t go poof. He could only imagine what type of poison was on it, but he didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for the demon behind him. Slipping into the dark apartment, he quickly crossed the living room, his yellow eyes picking out the rubble of the furniture. Hunkering down behind the remains of the couch, he watched Xander as he opened the door and stepped out, a violent stream of curses erupting from the brunette as he stepped outside to dispose of the vampire.
As soon as the boy stepped outside, Spike took off at the height of his preternatural speed, a slight breeze the only thing giving away his presence.
*Whelp’s too sure of himself* Spike thought, entering the bedroom and moving directly to Buffy. She jumped a bit when he appeared beside her, eyes widening. She had no idea he could move that fast. He reached out with his knife and slit her bonds, pulling her into a sitting position. The sound of Xander’s boots in the hall had him straightening, his right hand curling into a fist. Buffy’s limbs still felt leaden and her breathing was labored. Until the effects of the drug wore off, Spike was on his own. He was stronger, but Xander had been fighting vampires for years. Plus, he had the benefit of being nuts, so it was anybody’s guess who had the advantage.
Spike moved around the bed, contemplating his options. As soon as Xander walked through the bedroom door, he stopped. The sight of the fully vamped face and the long edged knife only made him smile.
“Spike. You made it. Of course, you using another vamp to take that stake was a slight miscalculation, but, I think I can overcome it.” Before Spike had a chance to come up with a appropriate comeback, Xander launched. The vampire got his arm up in time to block the stake, hissing as it pierced his flesh. He swung with his other hand, fully intending to stab the whelp and gut him, but Xander threw his weight to the side, dropping them both off balance. As they crashed into the table holding his computer, Spike twisted and grabbed his wrist, squeezing until it popped and the stake clattered to the floor. With a howl of outrage and pain, Xander kneed the vampire in his groin, then grabbed the keyboard from the table, smashing it across the back of his platinum head.
“Well, looks like you won’t be able to give Buff her undead fix, Spikey. Guess it’s up to me to satsify that hot little bod of hers.” Spike glared up at him, blue eyes clouded with pain, then slammed his fist up into Xander’s groin, as payback.
“Try raping anybody now.” he growled as the brunette sunk to his knees, coughing with pain. Spike’s own jewels weren’t feeling too healthy, but he at least got the satisfaction that he had probably broken the boy’s for good. He sat back on his heels for a second, catching his breath.
“Spike?” Buffy called, trying to stand. Grimacing, he stood grabbing his fallen knife, and walked over to her, keeping a careful eye on the brunette.
“You alright?” He asked, hazarding to look at her. He cupped her face, wiping the tear tracks away. She nodded slowly, grateful for the tingling sensation in her limbs. It meant they were starting to get back to normal. Unable to resist, Spike gave in to the fear that had chased him all the way from Revello drive and leaned down to kiss her. He shouldn’t have.
A soft popping sound, followed by the sound of metal imbedding in flesh filled the room. Buffy’s eyes grew round as saucers as Spike fell away from her, a puddle of blood forming around him. She watched in horror, her still numb legs unable to move her to help him, as Xander swung the knife again. Spike was out cold on the floor, the dart sticking out of his neck, a gaping wound in his side.
“Tsk, tsk. Expected smarter from you, Deadboy. Never turn your back on an enemy.” Xander said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Just you and me now, Buffy. Wanna play?” His smile turned her blood to ice and he started to swagger towards the bed, giving the fallen vamp a kick for good measure.
“No!” She cried, forcing herself off the bed and stumbling into her former friend. She grabbed the hand holding the knife, thankful that her fingers seemed to be working, and tried to pry them open. They fell to the floor with her momentum, crashing into the dresser on their way down, spilling its contents. Xander landed on the wrist that Spike had destroyed, and a hoarse curse fell from his mouth. Buffy tried to move as he rolled, but the drug was still hindering her, and he found herself trapped beneath him. She was still struggling to get the knife, even though his weight was crushing her, hindering her already haggard breathing.
“Damn, Buff. What’s all the fuss about? It’s not like a knife will KILL him. Although, watching me FUCK YOU, then filet you might.” He told her, slamming the heel of his hand against her chin, causing stars to shoot vividly in front of her eyes. She released her hold on that hand, and reached out for the other, smiling with grim satisfaction when he howled. She tried to punch him, but she couldn’t seem to get her brain and her fingers working on the same wavelength. The only good thing about this struggle was that he only had use of one hand, and it was still holding the knife. He had her pinned, but he couldn’t hold her down. Gathering any amount of strength she could, Buffy pushed him off of her, rolling and trying to scramble away.
“You know, Spike was right. Fear does make the killing better.” She heard the clatter of the knife hitting the ground, then felt the brush of his groping fingers as they tried to wrap around her ankle. Kicking out, she pushed his hand away, and pulled herself to the fallen stake. She felt her limbs start to respond the more she moved, and she tried desperately to keep moving.
Her fingers grabbed the sharp wood in the same second that he caught her. Pulling her arms to her stomach, she pointed the stake out as he rolled her over and fell on her to pin her again, realizing too late what she had done. A sickening thwack, followed by a look of shock on his face told her that the stake struck home. She didn’t realize that she was sobbing as he fell limply to the floor, eyes rolling up in his head, blood bubbling out of his mouth. With the last of her strength, she pushed him the rest of the way off of her, and turned back onto her stomach. Not looking at the slowly dying body of the man she had trusted, she began the slow process of crawling back to the man that she loved. Ignoring the blood spreading around him, she pulled herself close so she could inspect his side. She yanked the dart out of his neck, then searched for something to press against the wound. On the floor next to the overturned dresser, she saw a white t-shirt, and she reached out for it.
Working on auto, and struggling the whole time, she managed to get the material wrapped around his side. Once it was secured, she rolled him onto his back and curled up against him, her tears joining his blood to soak his shirt.
~*~*~
Buffy came awake when a gentle hand touched her shoulder. A scream ripped from her throat, and she cocked her fist back to attack.
“Buffy!” Giles’ roughened voice pierced her brain, and she focused her eyes on her Watcher. The look of grief and confusion on his face had it all flooding back to her, and a sob crossed with another scream tore from the depths of her soul. He gathered her up in his arms, oblivious to the blood drying on her skin, and the state of her undress. Spike stirred, opening his eyes to see his Slayer grieving against Giles’ chest. Beyond them, in a river of blood on the floor, lay the lifeless body of the man the Scoobies had all called ‘friend.’ Over the crying girl’s head, Spike and Giles met eyes, shock and pain screaming through them both.
“How’s Anya?” Spike croaked, clearing his throat.
“She’s sleeping. I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital. She said no. I started to get worried once the sun came up, and she told me where to find you.” Giles explained, running a hand absently over Buffy’s back. She started to quiet as they were talking, and she suddenly seemed to realize that she was naked, sitting in her Watcher’s lap.
“Giles, could you find me a shirt or something?” She asked quietly, sliding from his arms to rest against Spike again.
“Er, of course.” Giles stood and walked to the overturned dresser, purposefully keeping his eyes away from the figure on the floor. Returning to them with a blue T-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts, he helped her put them on.
“What time is it?” Spike asked, wincing as he pushed himself up. Buffy immediately reached out to steady him.
“Seven thirty.” The watcher answered, helping them both to their feet. Tears flooded Buffy’s eyes again when she saw Xander on the floor. Pushing them back, she began to look for a blanket to cover Spike with.
“Buffy,” she stopped her search to look at her lover. “What about. . .” Spike waved a hand in the general direction of the body. She closed her eyes against the grief and anger tearing through her. When she opened them again, she leveled her gaze on the men.
“Let’s go home. We’ll call the police from there.” Then she turned and went back to her search. Once she found a heavy comforter, she draped it over herself and Spike. Then, the trio left the apartment, never looking back.