A/N: *squee!* Thank you all for your thoughts and kind words. And a huge thanks to Dreams of Spike for being the most awesome beta eva!!
Spike, after having put on the fresh clothes, realized that he had nothing to do. He felt antsy, as if he should be doing something. Oh, he knew what he’d like to do—seek vengeance against that wanker, Finn, for what he‘d done to him.
But in his current state, that didn’t seem plausible.
He realized that he didn’t have his smokes, and he really needed a fag just then. Or some really good bourbon, and neither were available in the Watcher’s apartment.
He supposed that he could go see Giles— after all, the good liquor was at the Magic Box, and… he needed to apologize for breaking the tiles. Yes— never mind that he was so tightly wound that he was ready to snap at any minute.
It’d be bloody awful if Giles came home and saw the mess, all shocked and whatnot, and threw me out. Best to go explain it to him now.
With no further thought, he threw on his duster, grabbed his blanket, and headed to the shop.
Giles had just been straightening a few books while Anya attended to a customer when Spike came into the shop through the basement door. There was a look on his face that greatly disturbed Giles— it was one of a false calm tinged with apprehension.
Giles wasn’t sure what to think of it.
“Watcher. Mind if I talk to you— alone?” he asked, glancing nervously in the direction of the training room.
“Of course.” Giles followed him into the room, taking a subconscious note of the vampire’s slightly wide legged walk, and then closed the door behind him. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
“I… used your shower today.” Spike’s shoulders were slumped, and his hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of his coat. It was then that Giles noticed the curls that adorned his head, as if whatever had brought him there had not given him time to worry with his appearance as he usually did. Spike always took great care of slicking back his unruly curls, for in the vamp’s opinion, he didn’t want to appear “poncy.” As he studied the blonde’s demeanor, he suddenly realized that he looked incredibly… vulnerable.
To Giles, that was a thought that was more than a little disturbing.
“Okay. I suppose I should expect damp towels or something of the like littering my bathroom floor then?”
“No. Well, yea, but um… you should also expect some broken tiles in the shower.”
“Broken… why? What happened?” Giles frowned, the beginnings of irritation in his voice, though his rising concern kept it mostly at bay for the moment.
“Punching a wall with tiles usually has that effect. But what with my vampire strength and all, there’re some holes in the plaster too.”
“Holes in the— Spike! Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Giles allowed some of his irritation to show as he glared indignantly at the strangely evasive vampire. Spike looked away from him, ashamed. Curious, Giles stepped a bit closer.
“You were clearly upset about something,” he observed. “What happened?”
Spike laughed bitterly, before remarking with no little irony, “Got my virtue sullied, didn’t I?”
“Got your… what?” Giles’ face expressed nothing but confusion, as he searched Spike’s eyes, shaking his head, at a loss.
Spike turned furious eyes on Giles, his anger visibly rising in his face, his trembling hands slowly clenching into fists at his sides as all of the pain and humiliation of the past few hours came boiling up within him all at once, pouring out with his frustration.
With a roar, he turned his wrath on the pommel horse in the center of the room, kicking it onto its side before stomping on it, breaking the wooden frame and legs.
“Spike— stop it! Enough!” Giles tried to stop him in his most severe tone, reaching toward him as if to stop him physically.
But Spike ignored him, turning his attentions to the punching bag instead, bludgeoning it blow after blow with his fists until the sand exploded from the split seams. Growling at not having that to hit either, he turned to the brick wall, punching it in rapid succession as tears streamed down his chiseled cheeks, the flesh tearing from his knuckles that were now stained with blood.
Giles’ firm grip on his shoulder, shouting his name, finally pulled Spike back from his blind rage. Spike turned and looked blankly at the Watcher, almost as if just realizing that he was in the room. As his eyes slowly registered the overt worry and concern on his face, Spike’s face slowly crumpled, and he began to weep openly, his grief causing his knees to give out under him. As he accidentally collapsed onto Giles, the other man held him steady.
“I couldn’t stop him…” Spike mumbled onto his shoulder.
“Who?” Giles questioned softly.
“What the hell is going on here? And the breaking of merchandise! Well, technically, this isn’t apart of the Magic Box, and I can’t sell these things since they’re Buffy’s and… is there some sort of homosexual relationship between the two of you? Cause really, I never would’ve expected—”
“Anya—please get me the bottle under the counter,” Giles interrupted her. Anya’s brow furrowed, and she looked at Spike with a tilt of her head.
“Is… is he okay?” Anya asked at last, wringing her hands together in apprehension.
“No, I rather think not. The bottle, please, Anya.” Sensing the heavy atmosphere of the room and the strange mood of the Watcher, she nodded, closed the door and left them.
Giles lead the now silent vampire over to the couch. Tears still flowed from his eyes, but he wiped at them angrily as he struggled for control. Giles watched as Spike slowly sat down, gingerly sitting back on the cushions with a wince.
“What happened?” Giles queried gently.
“Last night, I took the Slayer to one of those… vamp whore houses Downtown. She didn’t know it, but her tin soldier had taken up spending quite a bit of time there as of late.” Spike’s voice was strangely level and calm, as if he knew that if he lost control again for even a moment, that fount of rage would come pouring out again, resulting in further destruction— or perhaps just further humiliation.
“Bloody hell,” Giles muttered to himself.
“Yea. So, Finn stops by to visit me today for ratting him out. Thought he was just gonna yell and punch me a few times, but… He took it further than that.”
“Further than that? How… Oh dear.” Giles whipped his glasses off of his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose as the horrible truth dawned on him.
“He… raped you?”
Spike’s silence said it all.
“‘S not like I can complain, can I? I’ve done a lot of bad in my day, so karma comes back for me and maybe I deserved it. Doesn’t mean I had to like it though.” Spike hung his head, shaking it as he clasped his hands on the back of his neck.
“Spike, you most certainly didn’t deserve—”
“It isn’t supposed to be this way! This bloody chip…” Spike gritted his teeth, forcing back the sob that rose in his throat.
“He still had no right to violate you. No right at all,” Giles said darkly, disgusted at Riley’s actions.
Dear lord, I’ll have to tell Buffy…
“Can I stay at your place for awhile? I… don’t feel safe at... Unfortunately, there aren’t dis-invite spells for humans.”
“Or for raping little sods, either,” Giles said with disdain. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need, Spike.”
Grateful, Spike opened his mouth to reply— but before he could, an irate Slayer barged into the room.
Anya looked at the bottle of amber liquid, and frowned to herself.
Spike looked so incredibly broken, that she wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. She’d seen him bitch and moan, mope, gripe, rant, be furious… But she’d never seen him weak.
Something awful must’ve happened.
She found two clean glasses, sighing morosely when she couldn’t find a third. An idea formed in her head, and quietly, she approached the training room door, and put her ear to it, listening intently. All she heard were the low rumblings of the two Brit’s voices. Scowling, she headed back to the counter, grabbed one of the glasses and then bee lined straight for the training room door again, putting the glass against it, eyes squinted in concentration.
As the bell chimed above the door, Anya’s head shot up guiltily and saw a not so pleasant looking Buffy enter. With her leather pants and black sweater, she looked ready to start a fight.
“Anya, what’s going on? Where’s Giles?” the Slayer asked. Anya gave her a look of false cheer.
“Oh, Giles? Pfft. What do you need him for? He’s… an old fuddy duddy. Totally un-hip.” Buffy’s eyebrows shot up, and she noticed the bottle of bourbon on the counter in her peripheral.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No,” Anya said, slowly moving away from the training room door.
“Is he in there?” Buffy didn’t wait for an answer, and advanced towards the door.
“I, um… wait.” Anya held her hand out to her. “He’s busy. Spike came in, and—”
“Spike? Came to spread the good news, I suppose,” Buffy said sarcastically more to herself than Anya. “He is so dead.” Buffy went around Anya, reaching for the door handle.
“Buffy, wait—” But Buffy had already opened the door, and the destroyed equipment was the first thing to catch her eye. Then she saw Giles and Spike sitting side by side on the couch.
“What the hell is going on?”
Giles looked up at his charge, clearly startled, while Spike’s jaws began to clench involuntarily.
“I tried to stop her, honest,” Anya explained from behind Buffy.
“Quite alright, Anya,” Giles said soothingly as Spike stood up slowly.
“Uh, Rupes, mind if I take the bottle with me?” Giles nodded his assent. As Spike headed for the doorway into the shop, the petite Slayer blocked his path.
“You know, it’s bad enough that you had to show me… But you had to tell Giles too? It wasn’t your place,” she said with a slight shake of her head.
“I’m well aware of my place, thanks.” He tried to walk around her, but she grabbed his wrist—not so hard to hurt, but enough to stop him.
“You wanna make fun of me and my pathetic situation, fine. But don’t do it in front of my friends.” Spike glared down at her, snatching his wrist out of her grasp.
“Funny how you think everything is about you, Summers. You can be such a blind bitch sometimes. Giles, I’ll see you when you’re done here.” Without any other comment, he stormed away, leaving behind a weary and angry Giles, a baffled Buffy, and a solemn Anya.
“That’s it. He is so—”
“Enough, Buffy,” Giles said firmly as he stood up and walked towards her. Buffy turned astonished eyes to him.
“You’re actually defending him? After he called me a—”
“Yes, well, he’s not exactly himself at the moment.”
“What? Rude and insulting? Seemed like Spike to me,” Buffy argued.
Giles pursed his lips in thought, knowing that Spike would want confidentiality, even if he hadn’t voiced it. And yet…
Buffy deserves to know what had become of her… boyfriend
Giles shuddered at the very thought of what Riley still was to his Slayer, in light of what he now knew about him.
“Spike told me what Riley has been doing most nights.” Buffy’s eyes widened before darkening in anger at the vamp, while Anya remained quiet, hoping to get the full story.
“He also said that Riley, in his… frustration, came to see him earlier today.”
“What, he beat him up or something? Punched him a few times? Big deal, Giles. There are more important things at hand—like why didn’t you tell me about those vamp places Downtown?”
Giles took off his glasses once again, and busied himself with a thorough polishing, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Exhaling a silent sigh, he put them back on his face.
“He did a lot more than hit Spike,” he said quietly and clearly, and both bottle blondes heard exactly what he didn’t say.
“Oh god,” Anya whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Wait—what are you saying?” Buffy asked, sounding for all the world like a young girl who learned that Santa was indeed fiction, and that monsters, though in human form, were real.
“He… Spike made it quite clear to me that Riley raped him,” he said as he looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”
Buffy shook her head at him, and to the insane notion that Riley would ever…
“No, he’s lying.”
“I don’t believe he was.” Giles gave her that look of authority that made her feel small and powerless. It was one that said, “I know I’m right, and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”
Buffy swallowed. “How could Riley—”
“Spike’s chipped, remember? He has no way of protecting himself. And because he was angry at Spike for telling his dirty secret to you, he decided to take full advantage of that fact. And I must tell you Buffy, this whole thing is… Who knows who else he’s violated? Spike can’t formally press charges, but something has to be done.”
Buffy agreed; something had to be done. Though all she felt in that moment was the extreme sensation to vomit.
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