CHAPTER 3
Upon reaching Buffy’s house, Giles
excused himself to go and make a phone call about Ben. He felt it only right that the man should at
least have a proper burial and so he‘d decided to make a call to the authorities. Anonymously, of course.
Tara headed to the kitchen to make
them all a hot drink while Willow and Spike went into the lounge. “Right, you just sit there while I go and
get some supplies and stuff,” the redhead instructed as she pointed the vampire
towards the couch. “I‘ll only be a
minute.”
“You really don’t need to do this,
you know, Red,” Spike sighed as he turned to face her but found himself talking
to an empty hall. “Not that my opinion
matters of course,” he muttered grumpily as he made his way over to the
couch.
Taking off his duster, he held it up
and scowled at the hole in the back.
“Another war wound, eh, old girl?
Sorry about that. You‘ll have
more scars than me if this keeps up.”
He gently folded the coat and placed it on the arm of the settee,
running his hand lovingly over the cool leather. “Still, nothing more than I deserve though, eh?” he
continued, his hand fisting into the soft fabric. “Should’ve been quicker, should’ve knocked the knife out of Doc’s
hand,” he admonished himself, angrily balling his coat between his hands. “Anything!
Then the Niblet wouldn’t have got HURT, you pathetic twat!” With a loud growl, he turned and furiously
threw his duster across the room, knocking a lamp over in the process.
Grimacing at the pain the savage
movement had caused the wound in his back, he gritted his teeth and closed his
eyes waiting for the throbbing to ease.
Body finally relaxing, he opened his eyes again and surveyed the damage
he’d done.
“Sod it,“ he groaned as he eyed the
mess on the floor. With a sudden
self-derisive snort of laughter, he shook his head then walked over to the
broken light and began picking up the pieces, fervently wishing that it would
be as easy to do so with his own unlife.
By the time he’d finished, he’d cursed himself to all kinds of Hell and
back and had thoroughly convinced himself that he’d failed in keeping his
promise to Buffy. He hadn’t kept Dawn
safe and she was at the hospital this very minute having the result of his
failure tended to.
“Everything OK?” Giles asked, popping
his head around the corner, the noise having disturbed his phone conversation.
“Peachy,” the vampire muttered
sarcastically.
The Watcher’s eyes narrowed when he
saw Spike holding what was left of the light.
“What happened?”
“Oh, nothing much, Rupert,” Spike
answered blithely, dumping the remains of the lamp into the wastebasket with a
loud clatter. “Just the stupid vamp
ballocksing things up…again!”
“Oh…well…very good,” the man replied,
his attention being drawn back to the phone that was emitting frustrated
sounds. “Carry on.”
“Carry on?!“ Spike repeated in
disbelief as he watched Giles walk away.
“Right, I’ll just wreck the place then, shall I?“ he added loudly, then
shook his head as he looked around the room coming to a decision. He had to get out of there. Now.
Not only was it obvious that no one
really gave a damn whether he was there or not, he just couldn’t be here when
they brought Dawn back. He couldn’t
face her. Couldn’t face them. Any of them. Didn’t want to have to sit through the long dissection of what
had happened with Glory. What could’ve been done different. What could’ve been done better. Because he knew then that he’d eventually
see the accusatory glares directed at him and hear the damning words that would
confirm how truly worthless he was; and tonight, more than any other, he really
couldn’t bear it.
Picking up his coat, he gave it a
shake and put it back on. Ignoring the
soreness of his leg and stabbing pain in his back, he strode towards the door
and grabbed a hold of the handle. He
was going back to his crypt, get stinking drunk, then sleep for a week and no
one was going to stop him.
“Hold it right there, Mister! Just where do think you’re sneaking off to?”
came Willow’s best authoritative voice.
Hand still resting on the doorknob,
Spike jumped slightly and turned to see two stern looking witches staring back
at him, their hands full of ointments and bandages.
“I am not sneaking,” he
retorted defensively.
“Are so sneaking,” the witch
insisted. “Your whole posture was one
of pure and…and positive…sneak. Well,
apart from the fact that I’d expect you to probably be a little more…you
know…kinda…hunched over…”
“Oh, and on tip toes,” Tara added
helpfully.
“Yeah, right,” Willow agreed, sharing
a smile with her girlfriend before glancing back at the vampire and adding
teasingly, “Not to mention looking over your shoulder every now and then with
an evil grin.”
Spike threw his hands up in disgust
and took a couple of steps towards them.
“What am I, Dick bloody Dastardly for God’s sake? Big Bad here, remember? I do not creep around like some ridiculous
cartoon villain, all hat and moustache,” he replied with a frown.
“I think a moustache might suit you,”
said Tara, tilting her head to one side and narrowing her eyes as if imagining
how he might look.
“I think a goatee would be better,”
Willow offered, tilting her head the same way as Tara’s and adopting the same expression.
Spike let out an angry growl, called
them stupid bints and spun around, heading towards the door.
“Wait, Spike, you can’t go yet, we
haven’t cleaned up your injuries,” Willow called out as she hurried after him.
“Don’t bother,” he flung over his
shoulder irately, as he opened the door and stalked out into the night. He couldn’t handle one more second of their
mocking. First Buffy and now them. Out of all the Scoobies, the witches were
the ones he actually quite liked and he couldn’t help but be a little hurt at
their behaviour. When it came down to
it though, he wasn’t really surprised.
He deserved to be ridiculed.
Just as he reached the sidewalk, a
firm hand gripped his arm and he turned to see Willow standing there with her
resolve face firmly in place. Spike was
about to tear his arm away when her features softened and she said quietly,
“I’m sorry, Spike. Really. We were only having some fun.” At his scowl, she added by way of
explanation, ”You know, post-almost-apocalypse-near-death, kind of
teasing. Nothing meant by it.”
She gave him a tentative smile and
after a few seconds, he sighed.
“Apology accepted, Red. Can I go
now?”
“Nope, injury fixage first,” she
replied, trying to pull him back towards the house. When it looked as though he was going to object again, she played
her ace. “Buffy really does want you
feeling better. You wouldn‘t want to
upset her what with having to worry about Dawnie and all, would you?” she asked
plaintively, pinning him with an innocent look.
The vampire shook his head in
resignation. “That’s a low blow,
Witch,” he commented in half-hearted annoyance, as he took a step back towards
the house.
Willow smiled triumphantly but didn’t
let go of his arm until he was sitting between the two Wicca’s on the Summers’
couch.
“Take off your shirt and coat,”
Willow ordered as she began arranging the various first aid supplies on the
coffee table.
Unable to resist, Spike raised his
eyebrows, turned to Tara and smirked.
“Is that the same chat up line she used on you?” he asked the Wicca
interestedly.
Tara reddened slightly and
laughed. “No, but it would’ve worked
just as well.”
“Tara!” Willow exclaimed, her look of
shock rapidly changing to a smile as she added, “Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” her lover practically
purred in response.
“Would’ve saved a whole lot of
time if I had known that earlier,” the redhead declared with feeling. The two women shared a grin then looked at
the vampire expectantly.
With a sigh, Spike stood and slipped
out of his duster then pulled his T-shirt over his head, holding back a grimace
as the knife wound protested painfully at the movement.
Carefully sitting down again, he held
himself still as the two women began their administrations. Tara patched up the cut on his face while
Willow tended to his back. When they
were finished they asked about his leg but upon hearing that Spike and underwear
didn’t mix, they all agreed that he’d be better off just resting it for a few
days.
The witches cleared everything away
then Tara went back into the kitchen to fetch their drinks. Willow stayed with Spike to help him put his
T-shirt on so that he didn‘t disturb the dressing on his back too much.
“I’m not two, you know,” he growled
when she chirpily ordered him to put his arm up then preceded to slide the
material over his left hand and down.
Unfazed, Willow ordered his arm down and repeated her command for his
right. His moaning at the humiliation
of it all was mostly muffled by Willow pulling the fabric down over his head,
none too gently.
“OW!
Watch it, Red. Almost had a
fellow’s ears off,” he complained, rubbing at his left lobe.
“Oops, sorry,” she giggled, looking
anything but.
At that moment, Tara came back with the
drinks and Giles entered the room bearing news. “I’ve just spoken to Buffy and she says that Xander is bringing
her and Dawn home now. Unfortunately,
Anya has to stay in for observation overnight.”
“Is Dawnie, OK?” asked Tara in
concern.
“From what Buffy told me, Dawn’s had
to have sutures but other than that she’s fine,” the Watcher explained with a
smile. “I’m sure after some rest she’ll
be right as rain.”
“Oh, well that’s great,” said Willow
with a relieved sigh. “I mean, not so
much for Anya, because…hospitals…yuck…but definite good for Dawn. Right?”
The last was directed at Spike who
had stopped listening to the conversation going on around him upon hearing that
Buffy and Dawn were on their way back.
He stared back at the redhead vacantly for a moment and then nodded his
head. “Uh, yeah”.
The urge to get out, and get out
fast, came back to him in full force and when Tara held out a mug of hot
chocolate to him, Spike all but snatched it out of her hand then drained it in
one long gulp. Slamming the empty mug
down on the coffee table, he stood abruptly and then froze as the front door
opened and Buffy, Dawn and Xander entered the house.
Too bloody late.
“We’re back,” Buffy called as the duo
went into the living room where Willow, Tara and Giles immediately greeted all
of them enthusiastically. Unlike,
Spike, Buffy noted, who seemed to be frozen in place by the couch.
The vampire watched Dawn accept the
gentle hugs and well wishes from her friends and felt a little of his tension
ease. Apart from her obvious tiredness
and the fact she was in some discomfort from her wound, she seemed well
enough. At least his foolishness hadn’t
caused any permanent damage and for that he was thankful.
He glanced at Buffy and saw she had
her back to him and was talking to Giles explaining that Xander had dropped
them off and gone back to the hospital.
Deciding that it was a good time to make a quiet exit before the
recriminations started, he moved stealthily towards the front door. Opening it silently, he paused on the
threshold and allowed himself one last look back at the small group of friends
and the woman he loved. “See you
around, Slayer,” he whispered, then quickly left the house and walked off,
losing himself in the dark shadows of the night.
END CHAPTER 3
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