Wait and Bleed
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and I respond to each and every one of them (in case you didn't check). Also, once again, thanks ever so much to Dreams of Spike for betaing this.
Buffy walked past Anya from the training room into the Magic Box in a daze, going to the counter to use the phone.
Oh god. No, it’s a lie – only -- it’s not. Riley raped Spike. He’s a rapist. He’s a monster. Riley’s a monster. My boyfriend. Riley. I feel sick. Oh god…
Giles and Anya watched in solemn silence as Buffy picked up the phone and calmly dialed a number.
“Hello? Dawn? Can you put mom on the phone? Don’t worry about why—just…can you get her?” Buffy paused, her expression hardening in a way that only a little sister could evoke – but at the moment, she did not feel she had the strength to argue with Dawn.
“Can you put her on the phone please?” she conceded, and then was silent again for a moment, waiting for her mother to come to the phone.
“Mommy? Hey, can you do me a huge favor? If Riley comes by… don’t let him in, okay? No, just… tell him I’m busy or something, and that I’ll call him later. And please, don’t let him in. I’ll explain later. No, I’m not all right. But thanks for asking.”
Buffy hung up on her mother, silencing her prodding questions for the moment.
“Giles? He’s staying at your place?” she asked, all the while staring toward the door.
Buffy nodded silently, and started to leave.
She paused, her shoulders slumping as she slowly turned to face Giles and Anya.
“You do realize that he is the victim in this situation?”
Buffy nodded, adding, “I just want to talk to him. Not that there’s…” she allowed her voice to trail off, unsure of how to finish her thought.
“You’ll stop at home and shower first, right?”
Buffy and Giles both turned their eyes toward Anya at her strange inquiry.
“It’s just…you may want to do that— the showering. Wash your hair, too.”
“And again with the why?”
“Buffy, Spike’s a rape victim—a vampire rape victim seeking sanctuary at Giles’. Do you honestly think that you walking in, having his attacker’s scent all over you will be in any way comforting?”
Buffy’s face fell, and she felt a fresh wave of sickness over come her. She vowed in that moment to never let Riley touch her again. “All right,” she agreed a bit listlessly, and then left without a backwards glance, or another word.
“What do you suppose she’ll do?” Anya asked Giles, who was still looking out the door through which his charge had just gone.
“I don’t know, Anya. I just don’t know…”
Riley walked home in a daze, trying to make sense in his head of the events that had just occurred—the events which he had caused to happen.
He had had no intention of doing that when he went there—honestly.
He had been angry, and felt justified in going to the crypt to rough the cocky vampire up a bit. After all, it was clear that he had only done what he did so that he could get Riley out of the way, and have Buffy all to himself. Did he honestly expect for Riley to just lie there and take it?
Perhaps. But in the end, it was Spike who had…
Riley shook off the thought, the image of Spike on all fours beneath him, and the feel of his muscles tight and clenching in rejection to his invading and trespassing cock. The muffled sounds of his cries of anguish… His body had felt incredibly cool, although the blood he had recently drank, coming forth from his torn tissues, had felt slightly warm as it had coated Riley, easing his hard thrusts into him.
Riley hopped into the shower as soon as he made it back to his apartment, desperate to get the blood off of him. He felt conflicted, though he wasn’t sure why, because at the end of the day, Spike didn’t matter—he was nothing but a thing—an evil, disgusting, thing that Buffy wouldn’t give the time of day.
Not that it would matter—Riley was certain that the vampire would keep the events that transpired between the two of them to himself, not that anyone would believe him anyway. Between the two of them, Spike would be the one viewed as a liar—and a habitual one at that.
The ex-soldier looked down at his slightly hard penis as he rubbed the blood off, his rubbing evolving to stroking as he envisioned the vampire in front of him once more, his pale hands flat on the tiles, legs spread, his face twisted into an expression of pain, knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop what was going to happen to him. Riley panted and grunted as he relived that moment of pure power, where he was the strongest and in sole control.
Seconds after he came, he stepped out of the shower and headed to his dresser. He had a girlfriend to see and make amends with. But for whatever reason, should things not go as planned, and Buffy rebuked him, he had a back up plan.
Someone was going to welcome him with open arms…
“Buffy, what’s going on?” Her mother accosted her as soon as she swung the front door open. Buffy figured that she must have been waiting by the window for her to come home, as she took in her mother’s furrowed brow and look of concern.
“Nothing…nothing, mom. I have to go take a shower, and then I’m heading back out,” she replied, heading toward the stairs.
“Buffy Anne Summers, you come back here right now,” Joyce demanded, sighing in relief as Buffy turned back to face her.
Joyce finally noticed how utterly drained her oldest daughter looked—how rundown…discouraged…lost. Her slight anger at Buffy turning away from her evolved into maternal concern once again, and a bit of sheepishness at her own outburst.
“Well it’s just…you look so—and you sounded so upset on the phone. And why can’t Riley come in the house? Did you two have an argument? Did you…break up?”
“And you don’t want him in the house?”
Buffy’s face crumpled as she swallowed back her tears. “He isn’t…it’s not safe to be around him. Especially if I’m not here.”
“Not safe? Why—”
“Please, I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Did he hurt you? Hit you?” Joyce felt her defensive maternal anger rise once again at the thought of her baby being hurt.
“No, not me…he just can’t be trusted, Mom. He…hurt a defenseless being. And I don’t want him around you and Dawn. I don’t know what he’s capable of anymore.”
“A defenseless…” Joyce’s voice trailed off momentarily, as she realized who Buffy had to be talking about. “Spike? He attacked him? Why?”
“I don’t…I can’t—not now. I have to go shower.” Buffy practically fled up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the bathroom as Joyce watched in a contemplative silence.
Neither noticed the young brunette peeking around the corner of the kitchen doorway. Though she had heard every word, she wasn’t exactly sure what it all meant.
But she definitely intended to find out.
Spike lay on his stomach, intermittently swigging from the bottle, his head facing away from the door. He sighed when he heard the knob twist, the door swinging open gently.
“Watcher…didn’t think you’d be back so quick.”
“It’s me, Spike.”
His eyes widened at the intruder’s voice, and his jaw clenched as he pushed up on his hands, rising up slowly. With awkward, painfully careful movements, he stood up and headed toward the other side of the room—hoping that she would stay on her respective side, keeping her slight Captain A-rapist-a scent with her. He turned to face her just as she shut the door.
“What are you doin’ here, Slayer? Come to harass me some more?” His eyes squinted slightly as he took in her wet hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and fresh change of clothes. It was the first time he’d seen her without her bouncy, shampoo commercial hair.
She slowly eased her way towards him, attempting not to flinch at his odd, slightly wide legged walk. Watching his face carefully, she replied in a soft, cautious voice, “I went home, after the Magic Box.” She looked down at her attire, fingering the hem of her baby blue, long sleeved sweater. “I showered and changed. I…I didn’t wanna offend you.”
He looked her over with curiosity in his eyes, slowly approaching her until they were face to face.
“You smell like Caress,” he said, his voice as soft as his expression.
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
His eyes widened slightly before suddenly, deliberately shifting to a cooler demeanor. “Just guessin’.”
Buffy shoved her hands deep into her pockets, looking down again. She couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes, and this troubled him greatly. Swallowing the imaginary lump in his throat, Spike lifted his hand, placing his fingers lightly beneath her chin, making her raise her head. She looked at him with large, sad, teary doe eyes, her bottom lip trembling.
“What’s wrong, luv?”
His voice felt like silk, gently caressing her.
“Giles…he told me.” She looked away again for a moment, ashamed. Spike dropped his hand to his side, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I’m so sorry.”
Spike grit his teeth, wishing his embarrassment away. It was fruitless, of course.“Not your fault,” he mumbled, turning away from her.
Somehow, his turning away gave her a courage she had lacked before, a determination to somehow make this easier for him.
“Hey…” She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, causing his back to stiffen for a second before he suddenly gave in, allowing them to slump wearily, as if all of the energy required for resistance had been drained from him in that moment. He still kept his back to her, unwilling to allow her to see the shame in his eyes.
“I am so sorry, Spike. If I had known—”
“You didn’t. No worries.”
Buffy walked around, standing in front of him, silently insisting on meeting his eyes. “But I do now. And I swear to you, he will never touch you again.”
Spike gave her a wry smile, unable to hide the surprise in his terribly vulnerable blue eyes. “So, what then—you my sworn protector, now?”
Buffy shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so,” she replied, deciding so just as she said the words. “Against humans, at least. You find yourself in a tiff with a demon, then you’re on your own, pal.”
“Fair enough, Summers.”
In that instant, an unspoken message passed between the two of them, causing them both to head to the couch without a word. Spike sat down gingerly on one end and Buffy on the cushion next to his.
“Drink?” Spike held out the half empty bottle to her, desperate to break the suddenly awkward silence that had fallen over them.
“But it’s still kinda early.” Buffy consulted her watch; it was only five past six.
“Yea, but no better time like the present, luv.”
Buffy glanced at him sideways, holding her hand out to him for the bottle.
“Thata girl,” Spike said with approval, placing it in her hand.
She took a healthy swig, following it with a “blaaah, ugh!” making a horrible face accompanied by the shake of her head at the awful, bitter flavor. Even so, she took another swig, thinking she’d get used to the taste.
“My throat and my gut feels all… warm.” She took another small sip before passing it back to him.
“Did you eat something? Breakfast? A snack?”
Buffy shook her head dumbly at him.
“Bloody hell, Slayer. Can’t have alcohol like this on an empty stomach. That, and I’m sure you’ve got a piss poor constitution, as small as you are.”
“I may be short, but I pack a mean punch,” she retorted, lightly hitting him in the bicep with her fist.
“And who’d know that better than me?” he asked with an arch of his brow.
Buffy’s thoughts darkened, as she looked away from him, her eyes narrowing with a grim, smoldering anger.
I’m thinking Riley’s gonna find out real soon…
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