Chapter Seven: Evil





“I know you’re not going to be happy with this Buffy – no, just let me speak! I’m afraid this is the only way. For God’s sake, young lady, your sister is scared to pass your room at night!”



Joyce noted that Buffy winced at that – one of the few shows of emotion she’d seen over the past couple of weeks. She truly felt that it wouldn’t be long before Buffy pushed herself one way or the other.



Either back to her old self.



Or continued via this rocky path she was currently heading down.



What she was scared of was that her choice may end up being the one that might lead to her destruction, and no-one would be able to help her.



That no-one would have the strength to deal with the persona she was currently sporting.



Which was what had prompted her to this solution that was so imperfect it was almost….perfect.



“I will not have him in my house.” Buffy stated unequivocally.



“Sorry ducks.” The ‘him’ in question said from his position leaning against the wardrobe. “It’s not just your house.”



“Oh, so my opinion doesn’t count?”



“Oh, it counts – just not the only one about, that’s all. Come on, Slayer – you never had to work with a new situation?” Spike smirked at her externally, but on the inside he was a bundle of nerves. What was he meant to say to her? What was he meant to do? Should he tease her, or just let her let it all out when she was ready?



Or none of the above?



*Christ, I’m in too deep…*



“I’m paralysed! That’s a very new situation!”



“And you’re dealing with it so well.” Spike snarked back.



Buffy went very still as the plan she’d been working towards flashed in her mind. “I’m dealing with it.” She spoke the words with quiet, cold conviction that made Spike’s borrowed blood run cold. He paused for a moment, before bouncing back into the ring.



Joyce winced at the reminder that her daughter was indeed paralysed, but the feeling disappeared as the two fake blondes continued to argue over her head and then she realised something: this was the most like her old self Buffy had seemed since the whole evil affair had happened.



Joyce tried to sneak out and leave them to it, but Buffy caught her. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You’re just leaving him here?”



Her mother opened her mouth to respond, but Spike beat her too it. “Is that any way to speak to your mum?”



“Fuck off, Spike.” She growled, scowling at him.



“Buffy – I’ll just be downstairs if you need anything.” Joyce was half out the door, and continued moving as her daughter shouted out her reply; she never heard her daughter’s response.



“I need you to stop fucking around with my life and get this thing out of here!” Buffy screamed, but when her mother didn’t answer she turned back towards the creature that did.



“Pet, I think it’s time to let it go. I’m staying. Deal with it.”



“You’re not part of this house, Spike. You’re not welcome here – just like everywhere else in your life, right?” When he said nothing in response she continued, trying to get a rise out of him, working the same ouchies she’d worked so well with all the others.



“You’re pathetic, Spike. Can’t be a Vampire, can’t be a human. You don’t fit in anywhere, do you? Ooooh, poor Spikey - nobody wants you around. God, not even your Sire can stand you; you’re that repulsive. You’re an evil, disgusting thing. You don’t deserve to be here.”



Despite being about a foot below him, she still managed to stare down her upturned nose at him. Her voice was cold and emotionless as she spoke the final damning words of her monologue. “You’re beneath me, Spike.”



Spike was silent through it all, taking in the multitude of venomous words as they spewed from her mouth. Then an evil smirk crossed his lips.



Buffy watched, finally quiet, as his scarred eyebrow rose high up on his forehead.



“Is that it, pet?”



“Fuck off, Spike.” The response was automatic.



“I don’t scare that easily, Buff. I think you forget who you’re dealing with.” He spoke quietly, not a single quiver in his baritone as he enunciated every word.



“Oh, yeah? And who am I dealing with? An impotent, neutered Vampire that has nothing better to do but follow the Slayer around like a little lap dog?”



“You’re talking, love…” He began dramatically, a darkness to his voice that she hadn’t heard in a long, long time. “..to one quarter of the Scourge of Europe. I’ve tortured, maimed and pillaged for centuries…sticks and stones don’t even hedge on what will hurt me, little girl.”



His tone jumped up to a teasing quality and he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Well, maybe sticks do.”



It forced a giggle out of her.



They both stopped: shocked.



She’d laughed. Even if only for a millisecond - she’d laughed.



She.



Had.



Laughed.



*No, no, no, no, no….* This couldn’t happen – this wasn’t the plan. She knew the plan, planned the plan down to the last detail. He wasn’t going to ruin this for her. *Damn it, Spike! How do you draw me out like that? No-one else can…Just think of the plan, think of the plan – remember how much better they’ll all feel when you’re gone. They don’t need to look after an invalid for the rest of their lives. They’ll be so much happier….and you’ll be at peace…finally you can rest…* The words calmed her down, reminded her of the goal that had been ever-present in her mind from the moment she’d woken up until this very day.



Spike watched as Buffy immediately withdrew into herself.



No – that wasn’t good. He needed her out and fighting. She had to remember she was a fighter – she couldn’t give up; he wouldn’t let her.



He tried and tried, but nothing would pull her out. It was if she couldn’t hear him. She didn’t want to hear him. The only thing he could hear was the iron doors as they slammed shut in her brain as she retreated and became the silent, unresponsive Buffy of a month ago.



He leant forward and shook her violently, trying to physically dispel the barriers she’d erected, but to no avail. He wrenched back with a growl.



His voice softened and he stopped pacing the room, “I’m going downstairs, pet, gonna go get everything set up in the basement. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”



She was unresponsive. The face and the voice that had spewed so much hatred and pain over past month since the knowledge of her debilitation were vacant in every connotation of the word.



She’d gone…he’d had her, and he lost her. Again.



---



“Is everything alright? It all went quiet? What happened? Is Buffy asleep – the last time it was quiet was when Willow put her to sleep – is she okay?” Joyce bombarded him with questions the second he entered the kitchen.



He rubbed a weary hand over his old, tired face. “I don’t know what happened, Joyce. One minute we were arguing – her trying to push me away as always. Then I cracked a joke – and she laughed.”



“She laughed? Oh God, really?” Joyce clung to the words with new found hope. “She laughed…” She said it more to herself then to Spike, loving the feel of the words in her mouth and the sound of them in her mind.



He looked up at her momentarily before his guilt-ridden eyes found the table top. “I’m so sorry, Joyce – I don’t know what happened.” He reiterated. “She laughed, then she stopped suddenly and now she’s just silent, staring at the wall.”



“I tried to pull her back out, get her to talk, shout, cry…anything! But she just won’t move…she just stares at the damn wall.” He repeated.



Her words were a whisper in the silence that had encompassed the room for the past couple of minutes as she voiced the painful truth of the situation. “You got too close.”



Spike barely heard her, even with Vampiric hearing. “What?” It came out a croak as he attempted not the let the despair that was teetering around them both envelope him.



“That’s the first time she’s laughed since it happened. She’s been so cruel to everyone, and no-one could get through to her, but you got through and she laughed…” Joyce took a deep calming breath as she started to babble. “Jeffery – her psychologist – he said this might happen. That when the break through occurred, it would throw her; she wouldn’t know how to deal with it. So she’s protecting herself. He said we have to be there for her…” She suddenly reached across the table, grasping his cool hand tightly.



Her eyes were wild with her fear, and the normal gentle woman had a death grip on him. “You have to stay. You can’t leave. She reacts to you – you set her off. You have to stay – promise me you’ll stay?!” By the end of her monologue Joyce was nearly shouting.



Spike hastily reached over, covering both their hands with his other one. “Of course I’ll stay. I promise we’ll get her through this…” He spoke with such conviction that the younger woman had no choice but to believe him.



They were silent for a few minutes as Joyce retracted her hand. “I know how you feel about her.” She began.



“Joyce-“ If he could have blushed, he would have been as red as a beach ball.



“No, I’m happy for her, happy for you. I know you must be hating this as much as we all are. And I wanted to say how…sorry I am for not inviting you round sooner.”



“You had other things on your mind, the pet Vampire is hardly top concern.” He tried to brush away his hurt, but it still stung that no-one, except Dawn, had even spoken to him since it happened. He’d tried to come to the house but had been warned away more times then he could count. He’d stopped trying for fear of the Witches erecting a magical barrier forever barring his entry.



“Not true…I should have had Buffy’s feelings more in mind. I’ve been so swayed by doctors…and, I’m sorry to say it; Rupert and Xander’s opinions that I didn’t even realise who we’ve been dealing with up until now. And maybe if I h-had-“ She couldn’t go on, and tears rolled down her thin cheeks.



“Hey now…It’s not your fault…if anyone were to have spotted it, it should have been Giles. He should have known the Slayer would have been her self-defence mechanism.” He quieted his voice the moment he realised he’d raised it. “I think I’ll go back up, check if everything’s still okay.”



“Okay. Oh, I’ve made up a bed in the basement. It’s not much, I’m afraid – are you sure you won’t get cold?”



“Nah – vampire. Thank you, though. For asking.”



“Everyone needs a little mothering.” Joyce nodded her head as if to say she agreed with her own statement, and stood, collecting the untouched hot chocolate mugs from the table – he hadn’t noticed them, and she’d plain forgot them the moment he’d told her Buffy’s had laughed. And then left them once more.



“Spike?”



The vampire turned on the bottom step, smiling kindly at the obviously tired woman.



“Thank-you.”



There was a world of warmth injected into those two little words, but he didn’t need them.



“I love her.” He stated and carried on up the stairs, as if that explained everything.



As Joyce turned around, emptying the mugs into the sink, she realised that actually it did.





A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews - hope everyone's still with me!

Coming soon....Chapter Eight: Saved…If Only For A Day