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Chapter 10
The next evening they attempted the loving, grooving
all-together Scooby family effort again, effort being the
operative word as they struggled to keep the atmosphere
party-cool. With
Spike glaring or ignoring, Buffy resenting or being
irritatingly chipper, Xander brooding or…well…brooding, Willow
and Dawn were secretly reminiscing that they’d had more
relaxing times almost dying at the claws of vicious demons.
“Maybe me and Spike should go out somewhere, give you some
time…”
“No, Xander,” Dawn protested, “can’t you please
stay? I don’t feel
like I’ll be seeing much of you after this
visit.” The scowl
she directed at her sister spoke volumes.
“What?” Buffy
demanded. “What
have I done?
Nothing.”
“If you’d stop looking at Spike like you want to stake him it
might help.”
“I am not!” Buffy
was outraged after receiving the evil eye from the vampire for
an hour. “But if
you want to talk about looks, you could stop him staring at
me.”
“He’s reading his book!”
“Right now he is, very conveniently.”
“Can we try to keep calm?” Willow asked hopelessly.
“I’m totally calm,” Buffy announced through clenched teeth.
“Calm,” agreed Dawn.
“Xander, why don’t you show Dawn the company brochure, she was
asking about your apartment and isn’t there one like yours in
there?”
Nice diversionary tactic from Willow, Xander conceded, and he
reached beside the sofa for his briefcase, fishing in it for
the promotional brochure he’d shown Willow the previous
day. Dawn scooted
up close and Xander let her browse through the glossy pages,
pointing out the show apartment that his home was modelled on,
enjoying her enthusiasm and
admiration. Buffy
came to sit alongside them, peering over Dawn’s
shoulder. There
was a good photo of the Gang of Four.
“That’s Patrick, he’s the Managing Director, basically in
charge of everything, he finds the business and stops the
buck. Jake is the
Financial and Legal Director:
self-explanatory.
Rafe is the Company Surveyor, he figures out what materials we
need and what it’s going to cost to finance projects.”
“And you’re…?”
“Contracts
Manager. I have
the cool job. I
get the buildings built.”
“He looks nice,” Dawn tapped a nail on
Jake. “Tell me, in
passing, conversationally, if he’s married, attached, borne
down with emotional baggage…”
“Jay’s great, you’d like
him. He’s been in
one of those on-off relationships for a long time but I’m
pretty sure it’s off right
now. Want me to
check? You could
drive to us and stay over…”
“That’d be…”
“Which is the guy you were talking about the other day?” Buffy
changed the subject before she freaked at the thought of Dawn
driving off by herself.
“That’d be Pat.”
Xander pointed out his boss for a second time.
“Has Spike seen
this? What does he
think of the
competition?”
Buffy felt every eye in the room settle on her with varying
degrees of hostility or
disbelief. “Hey,
it was a joke, I promise it was a
joke. Xander, you
used to be able to take a joke.”
“No, Buffy, I used to be the joke.”
“Well, I didn’t
mean… And can you
stop Spike staring at me like that, he’s giving me the
creeps.”
“No, I can’t, because I’m damn sure the feeling is
reciprocal.”
Buffy got to her feet and took a step in the vampire’s
direction. He was
instantly up on one knee, eyes flashing gold.
“Spike, stay there,” Xander said
firmly. “Back off,
Buffy.”
“Yes, stay there and just…just look at your
pictures.” Sitting
back on the one heel, Spike continued to stare, expression
calm and icily
cold. “Am I the
only one who misses the days of verbal abuse from
him? Doesn’t the
silent treatment get to you?” Buffy asked Xander.
“Yes. But it’s not
like he can help
it. You think he
wants to be like this?”
“No, of course
not. Makes me
really edgy though.”
Buffy sat down again, polishing off a glass of wine and
pouring herself another.
“Ignore him,” Willow said
determinedly. “And
let’s…”
“How can I ignore him!” Buffy exploded, back on her feet
again, and Xander was starting to get that
need-to-do-something-about-it-right-now self-preservation
tingle he’d developed through living in this God-forsaken town
for so long.
“We’re getting out of here,” he told Willow as he turned to
Spike.
Too late. Buffy
was striding over.
“Good idea. Will
you just totally fuck off, William.”
Spike had been preparing to defend himself as she’d approached
but the moment that name was thrown at him his entire world
became an explosion of excruciating memories, and he flew
backwards, away from the torture, away from the slayer,
crashing into the edge of the period radiator under the
heavily draped
window. They
watched with horror as agony froze his face, and he gradually
keeled forward, sinking to the floor and into the position of
submission. Not a
whimper, not a moan, when most would have howled in
pain. Blood
flowers bloomed and grew on his back, soaking his shirt,
scarlet rivulets trickling down his body and neck, dripping
onto the carpet.
Xander approached in slow motion, afraid of both the damage
and the withdrawal, and when he got close and whispered the
vampire’s name, Spike’s blood-stained hand rose, trembling, as
it pathetically gestured not to touch.
Xander thought the sound of crying was coming from Dawn, but
he turned to see Buffy with tears streaming down her face.
“Stop it,” she begged
Xander. “Stop this
now.”
“What do you want?” he asked coldly, hatred thickening his
voice.
“Don’t let him suffer any more.”
“You want
me—”
Xander hurried from the room and came back with
a stake from Willow’s ever-present
supply. “You could
do it?” He offered
her the stake as Dawn screamed in
protest. “You
could do it?” he repeated, challenging
her. Buffy was on
her feet in less than a second and reaching for the stake;
Xander snatched it back, the look in his eyes
murderous.
“Yeah? You wanna
come through me,
Buffy?” The stake
flipped in his hand and faced the
slayer. “You wanna
try? ‘Cause
you’ll be so fucking surprised at what you find.”
There was a lengthy hiatus as they glared defiantly at one
another, tension level in the room
soaring. Xander
was ready,
waiting… His hand
tightened on the
stake.
…hoping.
But it came to absolutely
nothing. Buffy
couldn’t suppress more tears and the hostility crumbled
away.
“No,” Buffy whispered.
“No,
Xander.” To
Xander’s surprise she sank back onto the sofa, defeated,
despairing, face in hands as she
wept. “I can’t
bear this. If it
can happen to him…”
“Is that what this is about?” Willow asked kindly as she sat
beside Buffy and pulled her into an
embrace. “Your own
fallibility?”
“He was so strong, he kept Dawn safe even when I couldn’t,
when Angel
wouldn’t. I
can’t…I can’t cope with
this. Why does
everything have to go this
way? I keep
losing… I need him
to be
Spike. He’s
not Spike.
And I can’t…”
Willow cuddled and shushed her sobbing friend, afraid to look
at Xander.
For a few seconds Xander felt a remote compassion for the
slayer, but it was only for
seconds. Then it
was all about anger, hurt, the disturbing sense of
anti-climax, the frustration of not being able to hit her so
hard her head
spun… It was about
Spike.
“So?” Xander
demanded.
“What? I’m
supposed to feel sorry for
you? For
you? Look
at him, for Christ’s sake!”
“Please. Xander…”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, fucking ashamed.”
“I didn’t want that to happen,” Buffy shrieked through her
hands. “I didn’t
want to hurt him.”
“Yeah? Well, I
guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“I just wanted him to stop.”
“Stop what?” Willow asked.
“Looking. Looking
at me like…” the words were swallowed by more weeping.
Dawn was at Xander’s side before he had a chance to fill in
the blanks, her deliberate touch to his chest requesting he
back off.
“Come on, Buffy.
We’re going home.”
“I have to stay and…and make sure he’s okay.”
“Go with Dawn.
‘Cause he’s – we’re – so much more okay when you’re not
around.”
“But I need to know…”
“Tell you what, Buffy,” Xander cut in, his tone low and
dangerous. “This
isn’t about you.
As hard as that is to comprehend, something isn’t about you.”
“I’m…”
“Sorry? Then prove
it. Go away and
don’t come back until we’re gone.”
Xander was left alone with Spike as Willow escorted the
sisters out to their
car. The vampire
hadn’t moved and Xander was getting
scared. Really
scared. As in
‘Spike is dead’
scared. It didn’t
occur to him that if Spike was dead he’d be
dust. He knelt on
the floor a few feet away from the huddled form, trying to
figure out how something so bad could get even
badder. My
fault. I’m a
fucking moron. I’m
gonna kill him at this
rate. I’m such a
fucking moron.
“Spike? Can I help
you? Please,
Spike?” Xander
waited, patient on the outside, hysterical
within. After ten
hellish minutes Spike’s hand extended in his
direction. “Oh,
thank God,” Xander gasped, taking hold and kissing the
crimson-stained
knuckles. “Think
you can move? I
want to get you upstairs and into the bath, soak the pain out
of you. Can you
move?” Tentative
nod, and it stoked the inner-hysterics: Spike would still do
anything for Xander, even in his present
state. At a
snail-pace, Xander was able to help the vampire to his feet,
guiding him towards the stairs, wondering if he should just
pick him up and get this over with
fast. As he stood
debating with himself Willow returned.
“Is he going to be
okay?” Xander
shrugged, too sick to hazard a
guess.
“Please… Please
try and understand about
Buffy. She cares
more than you think and this has shaken her
dreadfully. She’s
in a bad way.”
“Yeah. So’s your
carpet.” Xander
refused to live up to Willow’s expectations of him being
reasonable, rejected the whole poor Buffy
scenario. “Forgive
me if this hurts,” he said to Spike as he lifted him into his
arms and headed up the stairs.
He gently sat the vampire down on the closed toilet seat and
knelt before him, touching his face to see if he could be
persuaded to open his eyes, although Xander wasn’t too sure he
wanted to see what lurked in the depths.
“Spike? My brave
Spike?” Slow, slow
shake.
“No? I think
you’re brave. I
think
you’re…you’re…”
Xander swallowed at the lump in his throat but it was
unswallowable. “My
brave Spike,” he repeated
huskily. Eyes did
not open, but Spike hesitantly reached for Xander, slipping
his hands over the sturdy shoulders and letting the human move
into the embrace to save himself from stretching and more
pain. Spike’s head
dropped to Xander’s shoulder and the first shudder came as his
self-control disintegrated, swiftly followed by the silent
sobs and the uncontrollable trembling that screamed of
agony. Xander ran
feather-light touches over his arms and shoulders and sides,
avoiding at all costs the mutilated back that he was going to
see soon, too soon, too fucking soon and he would
destroy Buffy Summers if she was standing here right
now. But she
wasn’t. He
whispered of his sympathy and affection, knowing that soon he
would be causing more pain by picking lint and tape out of the
chewed up wounds on Spike’s bloody back, wondering what to do
with the new damage because he was a carpenter not a doctor
and he knew what he could and couldn’t mend and he couldn’t
mend this vampire however much he needed
to. The sobs
gradually lessened, as did the trembling.
“I’m sorry.”
I’m such a fucking
moron. “I made
you put up with Buffy, I thought it would be good to get a – a
reaction, I never thought anything like this would happen, I’m
sorry, I’m so
sorry…”
Shake.
“No? What
no?” Spike edged
back and forced himself to look at Xander with eyes so
bloodshot that little white was visible; the human struggled
for composure yet
again. Still Spike
shook his head. “I
don’t understand.
What’s no?” Spike
obviously thought about how to explain but it was too hard to
convey, and his head sank back onto Xander’s shoulder.
“You gonna be okay in there for a while?” Xander asked as
Spike prepared to slide beneath the antiseptic- laden
water. Nod and he
was under. Xander
ran down the stairs and picked up the phone, ignoring a
miserable Willow curled up in her favourite armchair, keying
in a number he had memorised first time around.
“Xander?” the voice asked immediately.
“You gotta help me, Angel.”
“Tell me.”
Once again it was the simplest words that released the torrent
of despair, and in fifteen tear-punctuated minutes Angel was
brought up to date.
“What do I do?”
“You know what I’m going to
say. More of the
same: Plenty of blood, plenty of
rest. There’s not
some miraculous cure I’m hiding from you,
Xander. Vampires
don’t usually get this kind of care when they’re badly hurt
and they – we – simply
die. You can only
carry on with what you’re doing and
hope. But if there
comes a time when you feel it’s cruel to make him go on, you
must contact me and I’ll…I’ll…”
“Can’t say the
words? Can’t say
you’ll be the one to stake
him? How about
that? You’re
prepared to stake your own
grand-childe. And
I thought my family were mean.”
“I wouldn’t stake him, Xander.”
“Then you’d what?
Drain him?”
“I would make it very
gentle. No
pain. And he’d be
leaving this existence as he came into it.”
“Not going to
happen. I’ll take
him home, look after him…”
“Xander…”
“No-one is going to kill him!” Xander insisted, just this side
of screaming.
“All right, all
right. I’m not
going to come bearing down with murderous intent, I just
wanted you to
know… I suppose,
that you’re not alone in
this. He has
always been close to my heart, Xander, despite
appearances. I’d
even started to hope that we could rebuild our relationship; I
thought there was chance, now that we’ve both changed so
much. I don’t want
to lose him any more than you but I’m sure – or at least I
hope – that neither of us would want him to carry on suffering
if that was all his existence had become.”
“No,” Xander agreed on a whisper as the truth hit him and he
began to cry all over again, folding into himself, physically
and emotionally, allowing Willow to take the receiver as he
stumbled back toward the stairs, collapsing into a heap on the
fourth step up.
He slumped against the wall and listened as Willow spoke to
Angel in serious tones, wondering in his ruthlessly paranoid
way if they were plotting to take Spike from him, put the
vampire down as if he were a worthless
animal.
No. No, they
couldn’t. Spike
came to him, and maybe this was why: he knew that Xander would
keep him safe from the people he shouldn’t need to be kept
safe from. And he
was getting better, he had
remembered… A
sudden bitter realisation hit Xander, and he felt his stomach
roll and roll again.
Willow soon joined him, sitting on the stair below his and
rubbing his leg in an I-have-no-idea-of-how-to- comfort-you
comforting gesture.
“I figured something
out.” She looked
the question. “The
picture he drew, the one we were so excited about?”
“Yes?”
“It isn’t a
memory. Well, it
is, but not an old
memory. It’s from
a photo of me he had with him when he came to
me. He kept it
with him all the time I was away from the
apartment. It’s
not identical, but that’s the me he
drew. He doesn’t
remember me from before.”
Xander wasn’t sure there was a word for how much the admission
hurt.
“Do you…do you want help with his back?” Willow asked after a
suitably heavy pause.
“You really want to see this?”
“No. But I’ll help
if you want me to.
Do you want me to?”
Xander nodded, and they made their way upstairs.
It looked like Spike was bathing in strawberry milk, and that
alone was almost enough to make Xander and Willow leave the
room the second after they’d
entered. Getting
as comfortable as possible around the tub, they cagily removed
the sodden dressings from Spike’s back, pausing to build up
courage each time it was necessary to probe deeply to remove
strands of lint or tape from the extensive new
gash. Spike sat
with his knees bent, legs clutched to his chest as he
shuddered and twitched through the
process. When they
satisfied themselves that they’d done all they could, Willow
turned her back as Xander helped Spike from the bath, wrapping
him in a bath towel and holding him close, burying his face in
the damp hair.
“There are splinters in the water,” Willow pointed out.
“Yeah. I find them
in the bed too.”
“You ever wonder exactly how they…you know.”
“I can’t imagine.
Don’t want to.”
Willow paused awkwardly.
“I should’ve told you before
now. The splinters
were…”
“Treated with holy
water? I
guessed. Because
of something Giles said.”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make things
worse. But the
worse doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon.”
“See? I was
right.
Payback. Filling a
vampire full of splinters isn’t about
training. It’s
torture; it’s a slow
death.” Spike
wriggled and Xander turned his attention to him, speaking
softly. “You okay,
sweetheart?”
Unconvincing nod.
“Xander, there’s blood coming through the towel.”
“’Kay. I’ll do the
dressings myself.”
“Trying not to show too much relief
here. I’ll make
hot chocolate.”
“Start heating up
blood. Plenty of
blood.” Willow
nodded and made to
leave. “Willow…”
Xander’s voice stopped her before she left the room with
indecent haste.
“You sure there are no spells?”
“Nothing I’m prepared to
risk. Send one of
those splinters the wrong way and…poof!”
“Just something to stop the bleeding?”
“I’ll check.
Y’know it’s not that I don’t want to help him, I’ve just
learnt some tough lessons in the past.”
In their room, Xander quickly dealt with Spike’s feet and
chest first, then laid him face-down on the bed so he could
tackle his back.
It was like being transported in time to the first day, when
he saw Spike’s feet and didn’t know what to do about them
other than vigorously
hurl. One thing he
did know for sure was that he was dosing Spike up to the
eyeballs tonight, regardless of how disorientated pain
medication made the vampire it had to be better than
feeling… Yes,
better than feeling, full stop.
He’d barely finished when Willow’s voice came up the stairs,
calling him to the phone.
“Hi?”
“Alex, it’s Patrick, how’re you doing?”
Wish you were
here. Make it
better. Hold
me.
“Couldn’t be worse if you want the truth.”
“Ah, no.”
“It’s… Oh, God,
can’t talk about it.”
“Alex…”
“No, really. Hey,
it’s good to hear your voice.”
Wish I was there.
“And the voice has the news you want to hear, how about
that? I just found
a fax about the
Heights. The
renovation work is finished – you’ve got your peace and quiet
back.”
“Fuck!”
“I thought…”
“I really want to come home but we can’t travel right now.”
“No?”
“He’s too ill.
Oh…fuck,” Xander sighed.
“How about an air
ambulance? I’ll
pick up the tab if it’ll make things better.”
Xander was taken aback.
“You’d do that?”
“Sure. You want me
to make some calls?”
“I…umm…no. No,
it’s okay. Two
days and he’ll be up to the trip, and he’ll be happier in the
car. I can’t tell
you how much I appreciate the offer though.”
“I’ve been worried.”
“About Spike?”
“Yes. And about
you. Corey told me
about the call.
Did you really want me to fire him?”
“At that precise moment,
yes.” Xander
sighed deeply.
“But not now.”
“If it’s what you want you know I’ll do
it. You only have
to say the word.”
“I appreciate that
but…” A touch to
Xander’s arm made him glance around to find Spike there,
looking frail and lost and in desperate need of some intensive
TLC. “Can you hold
on for a second,
Pat?” Xander
turned away from the phone and
called. “Willow,
can you find some painkillers for Spike – the brain-numbingly
strong ones would be good.”
“Is he down?”
Willow glanced into the
room. “He
okay? Spike, you
okay? Sit down and
I’ll get you some hot
chocolate. Sit
down, Spike.”
“Sit down, Spike.”
Spike showed no inclination to
move. “Come on
then.” Xander held
his phone-free arm away from his body, allowing Spike to
huddle close and wrap his arms around Xander’s waist, heaving
a satisfied sigh as Xander charily held him
back.
“Okay?”
Nod. Xander
returned to his
call. “Yeah,
sorry, where were we?”
“We were finished.
Just needed you to know about the Heights.”
“Right, thanks.
I’ll be back to work soon.”
“There’s no rush.
Well, that’s a lie, but you already know how much we need
you.”
“I’m looking forward to being
back. It’s the
only thing that’s going to keep me sane.”
“Anything I can do, Alex, anything you want, you call
me. I’m
serious.
Anything.”
Xander offered his profuse thanks and two men said their
goodbyes. As
Xander sat down with Spike, Willow appeared with the
painkillers and one of Xander’s big sweaters.
“He doesn’t like these tablets.”
“I don’t care.
Woozy has to be better than in pain.”
They managed to get the sweater on Spike without disturbing
the dressings on his back, and the vampire pressed the sleeve
to his nose, smelling Xander and rubbing his face against the
wool. A while
later, Xander was flat on his back on the sofa, Spike laying
in his arms, replete with six mugs of blood, hot chocolate and
numerous painkillers, oblivious to everything but the warm
body he rested on as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
“You’re going home then?”
“I think it’s
best. The noise is
gone, Spike feels safe there…”
“No Buffy.”
“Yeah, no Buffy.”
“Look…I know she caused what happened, but it was an
accident.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“Maybe. I think
even Spike knew.
He was trying to convey something earlier, I think it may have
been that. But –
and this is a big but, Wills – she called him what I asked
everyone not to call him and that was
deliberate. She’d
seen the damage it did and was getting her jollies there.”
“She shouldn’t drink,” Willow sighed.
“Noticed that.”
Willow stretched wearily and fell back into her armchair.
“He didn’t deserve any of
this. He hadn’t
hurt anyone who mattered for years.”
“You said he’d
changed. Tell me
how he’d changed.”
Willow took a deep breath and released it slowly as she
thought, trying to figure out what she could say to Xander
without making everything worse.
“You mean how different he was when he was supposed to be back
to normal, as opposed to…”
“Yeah.”
“Well… He was
quieter.
Preoccupied.
Self-centred, but not
selfish.
He… This is hard
to explain, but it was like he was living inside himself, like
he couldn’t face living out here with us.”
“All the time?”
“No, not all the
time. Days, weeks,
sometimes for a few
months. When he
made the effort for me or Dawn you could feel he was making an
effort. The
smart-ass comments he came out with were…affected, rather than
coming naturally.”
Willow remembered better times and
grinned. “He had a
wacky sense of humour, didn’t
he? And the two of
you together, you were so fast and
clever. I loved to
listen, especially when you got past the insults and were just
plain funny.”
“Long time since I was funny.”
“Umm…sorry, getting off the
subject.
Changes.” Willow
paused in thought once
more. “He stopped
smiling. He got
smiley living with you, not the nasty, scary smiles when you
knew he was up to something bad, but
just…smiley. Happy
smiley. And then
you went and he…”
Willow’s voice shook and she took a moment to recover before
words tumbled out.
“He lost the will to live,
Xander. You could
see it in his eyes that there was nothing left for
him. It was
horrible.”
“You never told me.”
“Because you were doing what you needed to
do. I cared about
Spike but I loved you and didn’t want you to be pulled back
here. Did I get it
so wrong?”
“No. No, you’ve
always been great.”
“I don’t feel great.”
“I know, I‘m
sorry. I
appreciate everything you’ve
done.” Spike
stirred and Xander spent a few minutes whispering to him until
he settled again.
“What brought him
back? From not
wanting to live?”
“After the fight with Buffy and Angel he spoke to
Angel. I don’t
know what was said but he started to
recover. Never
fully, but enough.
He was always…missing a
limb. If you know
what I mean.”
Xander knew, and he responded with a
nod. Missing a
limb. He knew that
feeling intimately: he’d had five years of
it. A tear crept
from the corner of his eye and he wiped it away, careful not
to disturb Spike.
“Can’t stop crying,” he admitted to Willow.
“I’m not surprised,” she replied with a sympathetic smile.
They fell into a long silence, and Willow watched Xander doze
off before fetching a blanket and draping it over the two
men. Spike opened
his eyes for a moment, fighting the drugs, and Willow smiled
at him, stroking his face and cajoling him back to sleep.
Switching off the overhead light but leaving a lamp on in case
Spike woke up again, Willow headed for her
study. Needing a
little support for herself she picked up the phone and hoped
Giles would forgive her over the time. |