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Something to Sing About by Lilachigh
 
Chp 17 Decisions
 
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Chp 17 Decisions


Buffy dropped to her knees, pushing the stake back into her waistband, the rogue vamp forgotten. The little pencil flashlight she carried jerked backwards and forwards as she tried to shine it on Spike’s body. A groan that was no more than a whine of pain broke from her mouth as the beam flashed across a pale body, naked to the waist, covered in dark blood stains.

“Spike! Oh God, what have they done to you! Spike!” She dropped the flashlight but it remained pointing at his body and she crawled sideways, trying not to touch him, terrified she was going to hurt her husband in some way.

His hands – oh God, his beautiful hands – they were swollen and distorted – every bone must have been broken. Amongst the cuts and whip marks on his back she could see bright burn marks.

Sobbing inside her - but determined not to cry because what the hell use would she be to him then - she picked up the flashlight again and trained it on his head. What she saw she knew instinctively would stay with her the rest of her life – even if that were as short as most Slayer’s.

The platinum curls were soaked black with blood, there was a great gash that cut open his temple and vanished up across the back of his skull. It looked fresh; still seeping blood.

His face! Buffy steeled herself: one of his arms was thrown up and over his head, as if to protect himself. She could see the myriad cuts and bruises on that arm and marvelled that it was still attached to his body.

Gently, she moved it aside, wincing, feeling the nausea rising up her throat, battling not to weaken when all she wanted to do was lie on the ground next to him and howl.

Then the tears she’d refused to shed began to roll down her cheeks because his face wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Bruised and battered, the lips that knew every inch of her body were cut and swollen, but it could have been so much worse.

She inched forward on her knees and gently touched his cheek. “Spike! Spike! Sweetheart, can you hear me? It’s Buffy. Please, please wake up.”

There was no response and just then, the flashlight began to flicker. Buffy stared down at him. Obviously he wasn’t breathing – he didn’t need to and there was no use searching for a heartbeat. But he wasn’t dust, so surely he was still alive!

Could she move him? Carry him out of the hotel, back to Willow’s house where they could care for him. But she didn’t dare lift him until she knew how badly he was injured inside.

Suddenly the flashlight faded and died and darkness closed in around them. Buffy slid across the rocky floor and lifted Spike’s head a fraction so it was cradled in her lap. She’d found him! And he wasn’t dead! Words of thanks jumbled through her brain, prayers to whatever gods were listening.

She bent over him again and kissed his cheek, unaware that her tears were falling onto his blackened lips.

“Trying – to – drown – me - pet? Can’t be done!” The words were cracked and broken, coming from a throat that had nearly dried to dust and ash.

“Spike! Oh god, Spike!”

“Stupid bint, why you crying?”

She ran her fingers lightly across his face and felt his long eyelashes flicker under her touch. She pulled off her top, spat on a corner of it and tried to gently dab away the blood that had congealed across his eyelids. “I thought – Ben – what he’s done – how bad is it?”

“Hurts like hell, Slayer! Good of you to strip, ‘preciate it, but don’t think I can quite - ”

“Shut up, you fool! Can you move? I didn’t want to carry you in case there’s something wrong inside.”

“Lots of broken ribs and I think one of my legs isn’t too clever, pet.”

“Your hands – ”

“Bloody hell, yes – “ Wincing, he tried to raise his head, then fell back with a groan, blood spattering across her T-shirt. “They had a fun time with my fingers. Haven’t seen one of those torture instruments for years and years. Liam would have loved it.”

“Don’t!”

“What – talk about your first lover?”

“‘No, you idiot! Stop talking about being tortured. It makes me – I can’t stand it.”

“Good job we both seem to be lying down then!” came the sarcastic reply.

There was a long silence. Buffy let the dark settle round them like a velvet cloak; it was enough for her now just to be here with him, to know that as badly hurt as he was, he would survive. They would both survive.
He was her beloved husband in this world and the aching pain of his loss was slowly fading away as the weight of his body numbed her legs.

“Buffy – ” the whisper was hoarse, grating from a throat that had screamed too much.

“Still here.”

“I knew you’d come back for me. Although I bet the Xander and Willow in our other world hoped you’d leave me here to rot!”

Buffy’s hands clenched convulsively on shoulder and she heard him wince. “Sorry! Spike - listen – I had to get Faith away to safety. You were right – that was important.”

“And you must have done that otherwise you wouldn’t be here, pet. Ben didn’t get his hands on her and won’t get the Key baby when she produces it. So, we did good, Buffy.”

“Yes, we did good,” Buffy echoed softly. Now was the moment, she knew, that she had to speak up, tell him that although he thought only a few days had passed, really it was weeks and weeks. The Key baby had arrived and Dawn was mothering little Gracie in a way they had never foreseen. All Spike’s pain and suffering had been worth it.

But when she told him that, he would also work out that his wife hadn’t come straight back to rescue him. She hadn’t believed he could possibly be alive. She’d only come through the portal eventually because she was so unhappy, wanting to be in a world where people understood how she was feeling. She’d been trying to assuage her own grief, not help her vampire husband.

And she knew, with a cold certainty, that if the roles had been reversed, Spike would not have spent weeks feeling sorry for himself, grieving and moping around. He would have hurtled back through the portal straight away to find her. How would he react when he knew about the weeks she’d let slip by without acting in the other world? Only three or four days might have passed here, but would he see her delay as a betrayal, as her reverting to the Buffy who wasn’t married to him, didn’t acknowledge their love?

“Ben – is he still around?”

“No, he’s gone. Sunnydale’s back to normal. I just need – need to get you mended. Listen, Spike – there’s something I have to tell you - ” She moved too abruptly and he hissed in pain as broken bones grated inside his body.

“Sorry, pet. Can it wait? I feel bloody rough. As long as Ben’s gone and we’re together, that’s all that matters to me.”

“Jeez, yes. Ok, we’ll talk later. I’m going to get help. Tara, Xander, someone – to help carry you.”

“No need, pet. These cellars are fine – nice and dark and quiet. I’ll be fine down here. Wouldn’t say no to a couple of pints of blood, though. Especially if you can find a bottle of Scotch to mix in it. Healing always goes quicker with alcohol in your body!”

Buffy’s stomach suddenly rolled over at the thought of blood and Scotch mixed. She desperately wanted to be sick. She eased herself away from the vampire, stood up and pulled her top back on. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

“Not going anywhere! God, I feel bloody weird, pet. Hurry up with the blood….” His voice trailed away and Buffy realised he’d lapsed back into unconsciousness.

She stood for a second, gazing down at the pale, bruised body she loved so much, then she turned and hurried back to the stone staircase that led up to the main part of the hotel. She’d get blood and Scotch, blankets, pillows, make him comfortable, make him better, and then she’d be brave and tell him. It wasn’t fair, she thought, to upset him when he was so weak. He’d understand everything when she explained it. She was sure of that.

But as she ran to fetch help, she realised that mixed with her overwhelming joy and thankfulness that Spike was alive, was a thin thread of dread. Why did she have the feeling that she’d just made a very bad decision?

To be continued




 
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