Chapter 40: Seeing Red (2)
A/N: And there we go. The infamous bathroom scene. Needless to say, my version is slightly different than the one Joss inflicted on us… Duh!
Spike entered the bathroom quietly, closing the door noiselessly behind him. Buffy was leaning over the tub, starting the water. She was clad in her bathrobe only, and he played with the idea of shagging her on the bathroom floor. His latest evil plan was to make her come in every room of the house. But then, he noticed the grimace of pain on her face when she straightened up and turned to him, the way she reached to hold her back.
“You hurt?”
She gave him the barest smile.
“Nothing bad, I just had a close encounter with a headstone.”
Spike frowned. If it wasn’t that bad, she wouldn’t be grimacing again as she divested herself of the robe. He stepped closer to help her, easing the sleeve gently over her shoulder. He let his fingers run lightly over the large bruise on her back. And she said it was nothing. He regretted not having gone on patrol with her. Surely, he could have helped prevent that. He held her elbow as she climbed into the tub.
“Care to join me?” she proposed as she settled down in the bubbles, carefully settling her back against the tub.
The idea was tempting, but he knew if he got in there with her, he would forget about her hurt back. So he just shook his head slightly.
“Another time, luv. When I can hold you without hurting you more than you already do.”
Kneeling by the side of the tub, he rolled his sleeves up. He picked up a washcloth and rubbed soap on it before softly running it on her shoulders. She purred her appreciation, her eyes closing in contentment.
“Heard any information we can use?” she asked after a few seconds.
“Shh. don’t think about it. Just relax for now.”
He had heard a few things, alright, and shared his information with Willow already. She was checking out a few last minute things, but he knew already that they would hunt for the nerds later that night. In the meantime, he wanted his Slayer to rest and relax a little.
He brushed the washcloth down her arm, gliding along her skin, then back up, across her neck and down the other arm. A faint smile was playing on her lips, and he leaned in to kiss it chastely. Concentrating next on her front, he made sure to avoid touching her nipples, drawing large circles around them instead. She whimpered quietly, eyes still closed, and he just grinned. Next his hand plunged in the water, rubbing her stomach, inching down until he was barely brushing against her soft curls. She parted her thighs slightly, inviting him lower. Instead, he ran the cloth over her thigh, sliding all the way to her toes and coming back up to his starting point, before repeating his actions with the other leg. He finally gave in, sinking between her thighs to brush ever so lightly against her swollen flesh. Again, she whimpered, this time arching her hips a little to increase the pressure of his touch. He let go of the cloth, rubbing instead his fingers around her clit, not touching yet, just teasing. Her eyes opened and looked straight into his, pleading, begging. He complied. Pressing his thumb against the hard bud, he slipped a finger past her folds, then two, pumping rhythmically against her most sensitive flesh. His free hand reached for his erection, shifting it to a less painful position in the confines of his jeans. She was biting her lower lip and he could tell she was close, very close. He flicked her clit hard, once, twice, and was rewarded by a deep moan as her body shuddered in the water. He kissed her again, running a lazy tongue on her swollen lips.
“Feeling better luv?” he asked cockily.
Her eyelids fluttered and she stretched in a catlike manner.
“Much better,” she slurred.
Grinning with self-satisfaction, Spike got to his feet and picked up a towel, wrapping it around her body as she stepped out of the tub.
“Thank you,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his earlobe.
“My pleasure, luv.”
Dried and dressed, Buffy stepped down to the living room, shadowed by a still grinning Spike. Xander and Anya were gone, but Willow and Tara were still there with Dawn, still looking over the evil Trio documents. Funny, Buffy reflected. Willow had moved out of the house the day before, and yet she had spent the day there. Hopefully, the three geeks would be behind bars soon, and the wiccas would finally be able to spend some time together.
Willow raised her eyes to them, at last not blushing as she looked at her and Spike. She smiled, beckoning them to come closer.
“Hey, I think we finally got something.”
“What did you find out?” Buffy asked as she came to stand next to her, where she could see the laptop. On the screen, she could see what looked like blueprints and schematics.
“Banks, armored car routes, corporate vaults… This is big.”
Tara’s voice was soft, as if she couldn’t believe what she was saying.
“They’re looking to score some serious dinero,” Willow confirmed with a nod. “I don’t think they’re planning just one job.”
Frowning, Buffy eyed the printouts lying all over the table.
“I can’t cover all of these at once,” she said grumpily.
“You don’t have to,” Willow said with a deep smile. “There’s one here we think they’ll hit tonight.”
Buffy took the few papers Tara was handing her, looking over them before passing them to Spike. He barely glanced at them, and she had the distinct feeling he had seen them before.
“We can stop them,” he said, “but the rumor going around is that they stole some kind of orbs. ‘Make them tougher, stronger.”
A wicked grin came to Buffy’s lips. “Good. I won’t have to hold back.”
As they walked briskly toward the amusement park, Spike kept glancing at the beauty by his side. Before they left the house, he had given her a little gift. His day in bars had been fruitful money wise, and between playing poker and pool he had amassed enough to go shopping before coming home, as he had hoped. First, he had gotten a few things for their new lair. They had decided to move from her room to the more spacious master bedroom now that Willow had left it. A little paint, heavy drapes and a few other accessories would make it quite comfortable. Then he had noticed in a store window the perfect gift for his Childe. The idea had been nagging him for a little while, and the way her jacket had been ruined the night before just made it more fitting. He had bought the item without a second thought. Watching her stride purposefully, wrapped in the black leather that stopped just above her calves, his only thought was that it had been a bloody great idea. He had heard her a few times make appreciative comments about his duster. Now she had her own, and they were twin shadows in the night.
As they finally came in sight of the park, they found that the three nerds were already there. The bot guy, Warren, was effortlessly ripping off the back door of an overturned armored car and tossing it aside. In a few strides, Buffy had jumped on top of the car, and a mix of pride and love filled Spike as he watched her, standing there, the duster flapping around her in the wind.
“Is this your bank?” she asked the wanker. “‘Cause if not, there’s gonna be a fee for that.”
Warren just had the time to look up before she dropped down on him. But instead of being knocked down, he caught her and threw her a good twenty feet away. Spike couldn’t suppress a wince as she landed hard on her back. She struggled to her feet as Warren strolled toward her. Growling, Spike approached them, oblivious to the insults they traded back and forth. His anger grew even hotter as that kid landed a couple of hard blows Buffy should have been able to avoid easily. No doubt about it, she was more hurt than what she had admitted. Grabbing Warren’s arm as he was going to hit again, Spike twisted it roughly behind him. and was instantly punished by the chip. He released his grip immediately and clutched his head, roaring at the piercing pain. Warren didn’t have time to spare the agonizing vampire a second glance, as Buffy grabbed the ripped armored car door and swung at him, sending him to crash into an archway. He shook the blow off, laughing, until the arch above him broke loose and buried him under rubble.
Buffy gave a quick look at Spike, worry shining in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, grinding his teeth. “Get the two other wankers.”
She followed the direction of his gesture, and strode purposefully to Andrew and Jonathan. Spike barely paid attention, angry that he was so utterly useless to her in this particular fight. As he had seen Warren’s abnormal strength, Spike had forgotten a small detail. He was human. And the chip didn’t care that he was a criminal. Still scowling, Spike noticed that the pile of rubble was moving.
“Slayer!” he shouted warningly.
She spun, facing a laughing Warren as he approached her, brushing the dust off his clothes. As he did so, his jacket pulled back, revealing a small leather pouch hanging from his belt.
“Buffy! The pouch at his waist! Destroy the orbs!”
A scornful look passed through Warren’s face as he heard Spike’s words.
“As if.” he started.
In a jump, Buffy was by him, surprising him by the rapidity of her attack. She snatched the pouch away from him and crushed it on the ground. A red flash enveloped Warren and he grunted, staggering. With a nice kick to the chest, Buffy sent him flying backwards, at last landing a blow that had hurt. She approached him slowly, a predatory grin gracing her lips. Warren managed to get back to his feet, holding his chin high in front of her, and Spike wondered what she was about to do. She wouldn’t, couldn’t kill him. She was the Slayer, she was a vampire, but she was not a killer. Spike wished he could have taken care of the idiot for her; if anyone deserved a beating, or worse, it was him. But he could do nothing but stand there, useless, his fists closed so tight that his nails were breaking the skin of his palms.
“You’re nothing but a sad little boy, Warren,” she said with barely a hint of anger piercing in her voice. “But it’s time to grow up and pay for what you’ve done.”
“Get away from me!”
As he shouted, Warren stripped of his jacket, revealing, of all things, a jet pack strapped to his back.
“I swear to God I’m gonna take you down. You piece of.”
His last words were lost in deafening noise as he rose to the sky, leaving a trail of white smoke behind him. Buffy looked up at him, utterly disappointed.
“Oh come on!” she growled, her lips settling on a pout.
Noise caught Spike’s attention, and he turned in time to see one of the other idiots – Andrew? – shoot up in the air, propelled by the same kind of rocket as Warren, and immediately slam into the overhanging roof structure above him. The last member of the group looked down at his stunned acolyte, then turned his eyes to Buffy, his hands rising unthreateningly. A police siren was wailing, coming undoubtedly in their direction.
Through the window of the master bedroom, Spike was watching the garden. It was morning, but dark clouds blocked the sun, and his Slayer was down there, pacing. He wanted to join her, but she needed time to think about what he had told her.
He wanted the chip out. He hadn’t asked her opinion about it, he had simply told her that he wanted it out. And he was going to get it out, even if he had to go halfway around the world for that. He had never liked being useless – who did? – and watching her fight Warren while she was hurt, being able to do nothing to help her, had been intolerable. It couldn’t go on like that. It was time for the chip to come out. He had thought about it all night long, there was no other way.
Of course, she was reticent. She hadn’t told him flat out not to do it, but he knew her well enough to read the emotions she tried to hide. Mostly, she was afraid, and he thought he knew why. She was afraid he would go back to killing if the chip ever stopped working. He couldn’t blame her to think that, really. She knew the hunger now, knew what it was like to fight a famished demon raging and screaming for blood. He wished he could make her see, make her believe at last, that he was stronger than the demon. That he could go on living on blood bags. That all he wanted was the knowledge that he could protect her at all time if needed.
Someone approached Buffy, and he recognized Willow. He wondered what they were talking about. Him, or the escaped wanker?
“Spike?”
The timid call made him turn toward the door. He gave the witch a half smile.
“Hey Glinda.”
She took a step toward him, hesitant.
“You. You wanted to talk to me?”
He nodded, passing a nervous hand through his hair.
“Yeah. I have a favor to ask you. ‘Was wondering whether you’d be able to magic the chip out of my head. Or just zap it or something.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and she blinked several times.
“I. I don’t know. Even if I could, I’m not sure. what does Buffy think about it?”
He laughed half-heartedly. He hadn’t put much hope on this, so he wasn’t too disappointed. Still, it somewhat hurt. Did any of them really trust him?
“She likes the idea of a chipless Spike just as much as you do,” he said dejectedly.
“Spike, it’s not.” she started, then hesitated. She was silent for a few seconds, studying him.
“If I could,” she said finally, her voice slightly firmer, “I would do it. I don’t believe you would get all evil without it. You love her too much for that.”
He nodded, the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips.
“But I don’t think I can do it,” she added, almost apologetic. “It would be really tricky, messing with.”
The sound of broken glass. Pain.
Unable to understand what was going on, Spike stared at Tara, who in return was watching him with horror. The front of her shirt was splattered with blood. His blood, he realized as pain made him sink to his knees.