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Chapter 12

Buffy watched the front door open with trepidation, not even noticing that she was holding her breath. Would her nightmares come true once again? Would she ever get the respite from her past? Did Spike betray her?


A creature unlike anything Buffy had ever seen entered the hotel room, flicking its floppy ears and swishing its tail. She blinked, bewildered. Spike mirrored her expression. The feeling of guilt crashed over her. She should have known better than to mistrust him.


“Hello, kids,” the creature said cheerfully. “William here knows me already. Introduce me to this nice young lady, would you?” It flashed Spike a jovial doggy grin. Buffy reached out with her senses and immediately let out a sigh of relief, tension leaving her muscles along with it. There was nothing about this creature that made the alarms go off in her head. On the contrary, there was an aura of kindness and wisdom that spoke of someone who had lived and seen many things.


“I- eh... Buffy, luv, is it just me going bonkers, or do you see him too?” Buffy instantly adapted the deer- caught- in- headlights look and shifted her attention back to Spike, forcing herself to focus on his face instead of his pale muscular chest. It took a lot of will.


“It's not just you.” She looked puzzled. “And why is he calling you William?”


Spike scratched his head sheepishly after he pulled the black t-shirt over his head, heedless of her reaction to him and said. “That's my real name. The one my mum had given me when I was human. Speaking of, how do you know my real name, mate?” Spike narrowed his eyes at the newcomer, but the suspicious look didn't faze the creature.


“Not exactly a secret, is it? And since you're obviously being rude, I'll introduce myself.” It turned to Buffy. “I'm Steve. I'd shake your hand, but, well...” Steve lifted his hoof and smiled as apologetically as dog with a horse's body could. Spike was starting to open his mouth to give him a piece of his mind, but Steve interrupted him. “Now, Spike. I'm here for a reason and I'm on a tight schedule, so sit down and listen.”


Spike was about to let out an offending retort, but stopped himself before it could pass his lips. He'd wait what Steve had to say, and then he'd speak his mind. Loudly. See? He could be mature. For a moment anyway.


Buffy glanced at Spike's protruding lower lip, defiantly crossed arms and a flood of genuine affection hit her.


“Why are you here? What are you exactly?” she asked.


“I'm an emissary. I was sent here to help you. To offer my assistance.”


Well, that cinched it. Spike would not stand aside quietly anymore.


“With what?” Spike spoke up. “Don't tell me that the higher powers decided to offer their help now. Bloody typical! They let everything get screwed up, let their champion suffer like that and suddenly they're all-” Spike continued with a high falsetto voice, “'we ought to do something about it, 'cause we're the almighty Powers That Fuck Everything Up. It's our job to hop up on our high and mighty horse and prance away into the sunset to save puppies and rainbows'.”


“Are you quite finished?” Steve asked, floppy ears flicking in annoyance.


“Not nearly, no. Why now? Where have you been all the time that your slayer was in that hellhole. Where were you then, huh?”


Buffy listened in with a growing lump in her throat. Vines of pure undiluted emotion wrapped themselves around her heart and squeezed it. What would she do without him?


Once upon a time, she'd be outraged at anyone assuming she couldn't defend herself on her own, that she'd need anyone to fight her battles for her. Right now, it felt nice to have Spike being enraged on her behalf with his teeth bared in anger as he rose and gestured wildly around. Seeing Steve's flinch as Spike got into his face. She almost felt guilty. Almost, but not quite. Because Spike was right. Where had they been then?


“We couldn't have interfered, I swear. But we can help now. Take it, or leave it.”


Spike tamped down another burst of indignant anger and asked tightly, “Again, I ask. With what?”


“I gave you the dagger. It's a part of the solution. Part of the ritual to purge the demon out.”


Dots connected in Buffy's head. This was the guy that had given Spike the knife. The one from her nightmare. “You can do that?” Buffy asked, hope flaring in her eyes. “Get rid of it?”


“Yes. Since Spike here obviously didn't get my clues the first time around, I'll have to be more pragmatic.”


“Hey! You spoke in bloody riddles!”


“Anyway, I brought you the list of ingredients. The incantation. All you have to do is follow it. It's in the locket around my neck” Spike opened the golden locket and drew out a worn parchment. He unfolded it and sighed in relief. It was written in English.


“You have to do it quick. It's gaining a leverage,” Steve said urgently.


Buffy hugged herself and stared at the piece of paper in Spike's hand. The answer to everything.


Steve started to flicker in and out of focus and Buffy snapped herself out of her inner thoughts. “Wait!” He looked at her expectantly. “What is the thing? How did it...”


“Hijacker. It travels between the World of Living and the World of Dead. It latches onto anything with a defective soul. It preys on the despair; it feeds off it. Most often, the victims are the ones that had committed suicide. The hijacker latches onto their souls and keeps them in limbo between the worlds, feeding off them until there's nothing left. You though, have come back and brought it here with you. It's a wonder you're still alive. We think it must be the fact that you're a slayer and that you're tied to Mr. Touchy here-”


“Hey, watch it!” Spike said.


Steve continued as if nothing had interrupted him. “-that stalled its progress. But this ritual can get rid of it, I promise.”


Buffy nodded and shivered. It was eating at her soul, ripping it apart, piece by piece, until there would be nothing left but flaring ribbons of death.


Spike scanned the instructions to the ritual and asked, “What about the dagger, mate? What does it do exactly? I'm not too keen on some nasty surprise.”


“Ah, always so mistrusting, William. You should really work on that issue.” At Spike's glower, Steve cleared his throat and continued, “It's a bridge of a sort. Use it to spill both of your blood and mingle it together. The mojo on the dagger will create an alternative temporary dimension out of time and space as you know it, an echo of Buffy's mind. It will turn the hijacker into solid form, hence enabling you to kill it. Except without actually hurting Buffy. It won't be easy, mind you. It will use the mirages of Buffy's memories and impressions to confuse you.”


“The bugger won't hide any longer, I'll make sure of it. And no funny business from you, Steve. If I find out you hid something from us, I'll hunt you down and make you sorry.” Spike shot him a deadly glare.


“Whew, man. Issues, huh? Well kids, I gotta go. I'll cross my fing... ehm, hooves for you. Good luck!”


Steve disappeared into the thin air.


“Bloody show off.” Spike muttered.


Suddenly Buffy heard a sigh and a rustle of movement, as Spike slipped behind her and encircled her waist with his arms. Strong and male. He drew her into his embrace and kissed her temple. She leaned her head against his shoulder, relishing the feel of him. It shut out the somber thoughts.


“You wanna do it tonight?”


Buffy nodded.


“Right. I'll go get the ingredients after the sun's gone down. I'll go get you a pizza, with extra cheese. And some clothes.”


Buffy nodded.


“Then I'll parade them for you, real nice. Pink halters and flowery skirts, what do you say? Some high heels maybe, whatever strikes my fancy. I can even strip down and wriggle if you like.”


Buffy smiled.


“Knew I could get a grin.”


“Sorry for being a spoil sport.” Buffy's pout drew Spike's attention with tempting sensuality. Soft and full. Just a breath away from his own. Inviting. Sweet. He snapped out of the daze before he did something stupid like cover the distance and claim her lips. He cleared his throat.


“That's not what I meant and you know it. It's just... I hate to see you hurt. I care about you more than I'd like to admit.” Spike buried his face in her hair and tightened his arms around her. Revealing vulnerability had always led him into a whole world of pain. He'd always worn his heart on the sleeve, and all he got in return was getting it stomped into dust. It seemed like he'd never learn.


Buffy covered the hands on her waist with her own and said, “It's kinda hard to believe.” When she sensed Spike stiffen behind her, she said, “Would you mind repeating it?”


He relaxed and chuckled. “I care about you, Buffy.”


“Why? Because of the connection?”


“That is a part of it, yeah. The fact that I've seen the real you. How could I not care about you? You're the strongest person I've ever met.”


Buffy snorted.


“Bloody right you are! Look at the things you've been through, and you're still standing. If that's not strength, than I don't know what is. And I'll have you know I've seen a fair share of it during the century.”


“So, William, huh?” She diverted the conversation.


“Bloody hell. I'm gonna kill the sod.” He growled playfully and Buffy's mouth twisted into a smile.


“I like it. It suits you.”


“Thanks ever so, pet. I think I should feel very offended right now.”


“What did you look like back then? When you were human?” Buffy absently stroked the back of his hand. Spike shuddered.


“Like a ponce.”


“Come on, Spike. Tell me? Please?” How could he refuse her anything? She could tell him to jump out of the window and take a stroll in a sunny day and he would do it. For her, he'd do it.


“All right. I wore spectacles. And my hair was a tad darker, all curly. That's it.”


“Tell me more. What were you like? Was there a woman? I bet it was all romantic, fluffy dresses and polite behavior.”


“Those dresses could kill you, luv. Plus, you needed at least one maid to help you get dressed. And the polite behavior was nothing but hypocrisy. When I was turned, it was the night I finally started to live. There were no rules, no obligations. I no longer cared about the opinions of others. I could do anything I wanted. It was liberating. When I was William, there was nothing for me to live for. Nothing but taking care of my mum and the pathetic poe-... ehm, nothing.”


“You wrote poetry?” It surprised her, and at the same time it didn't. She knew there was more to Spike than met the eye. She wouldn't trust him if there wasn't.


“No! Okay, yeah.” He scowled.


“Can you recite something for me?” He eyes were all pleading and fluttering eyelashes. But she would not get to him this time. Poetry was a forbidden zone.


“I'd have to kill you if I did. Believe me, you don't wanna hear it.”


“Wasn't it good?”


“It earned me a nickname: William the Bloody. As in bloody awful poet. I wasn't exactly Wordsworth, luv.”


“They were idiots. I bet I'd have liked it.”


“No, you'd probably would have yelled at me for offending your delicate ears and tossed it into my face.” Spike bitterly recalled all the times he'd put all of himself onto the parchment, just to be mocked and rejected. Emily. Cecily. Even Dru had just giggled and patted him on his head like he was an obedient little puppy. Darla just outright laughed so hard that tears leaked out from her eyes--the bitch.


“It would be from you. I'm sure I'd like it. It's the feeling behind it that counts, right?”


“Maybe someday, luv. If I ever write anything again, it would be just for you.” If nothing else, at least it would make her laugh, even if it would be at him.


Buffy blushed. “I hope you will.”


“So anything embarrassing from your childhood that you care to share with me?” He carefully avoided asking about the months of captivity. She'd tell him when she was ready, and he'd respect it.


“Nothing major.” Buffy smiled sadly as she recalled childhood memories. Flickering images of a small girl with blond hair tied into pigtails. Happy and innocent. Her parents. Laughter. It seemed eons ago, unattainable. So far out of her reach it could be in a different world altogether. She could never see them again. Couldn't bear to face them after the things that had been done to her. She wasn’t the girl they had known anymore. They were better off without her.


Spike felt her sorrow, a heavy veil weaved from bittersweet memories. “Come on, luv. Don't be sad.”


“I miss them so much,” she whispered hoarsely.


“Call them. Go visit them. I can go with you, if you want.”


“I can't.”


“Why not? I bet your folks would jump through the roof from happiness.”


“They probably think I'm dead. And I can't stay with them. If I came to them and then left again, they'd hurt even more. I can't do that. And I can't let them see me like this.”


“It's up to you, luv. I'm with you, no matter what. One day, when you're ready to see them, just say the word and I'll take you, okay?”


“Thank you.”


“You're welcome.”


After a few minutes of silence filled with soft breathing and Buffy's lulling heartbeat, she spoke up.


“Spike?”


“Hmm?” he mumbled into her hair.


“Will you buy me chocolate ice-cream when you go out?”


“Sure. Anything else?”


“Chocolate chip cookies. And strawberry lollipops.”


“Anything healthy that won't rot your teeth?”


“Nope.”


Spike grinned.


******


”Sun will be down in a couple of minutes. Are you sure you'll be all right?”


“Don't worry about me. You won't be long, will you?”


“I'll be as quick as I can. I saw a shop called Magic Box when I arrived into town. I can get the ingredients there. I'll be away for about an hour at most.”


“Don't forget the pizza and clothes.”


“Wouldn't dream of it, pet.”


Spike slowly disengaged himself from behind Buffy and rose when he felt the sun disappearing behind the horizon. He took is duster and slid his arms into the sleeves. Buffy followed the motion with her eyes, peering up at him as he strode towards her and leaned down. Gentle hands slid into her hair and cool soft lips kissed her cheek, leaving a tingling spot in their wake. Buffy's heart fluttered and she touched a hand to her cheek, her eyes never leaving his.


He had to get away before the look she was giving him prompted him to draw her into his embrace and kiss every single inch of her body. His every muscle screamed with repressed hunger as he forced himself to step away from her. Control was a slippery bugger.


“No naughty business while I'm away.” Spike smirked and Buffy rolled her eyes. He grabbed the keys from the nightstand and gave her one last glance over his shoulder before he closed the door.


******


The Magic Box supplies were in the trunk of the car and so were the clothes, thank god. Spike hated shopping. All those amused looks from the shop assistants at the mall when he looked through the skirts, tight jeans, tank tops and female underwear, probably thinking he was a cross- dresser. He had fed off a homeless man that stank like sewers to assert his masculinity. He didn't kill him, could hardly gag down a few mouthfuls of his sour blood. Nothing compared to Buffy's taste.


The hardest part was acquiring the blood of a dove. It was the only thing unavailable in the Magic Box. It was the key for the peace of mind and body. The balance of the ritual itself. But he took care of it. No lost sleep over one dead bird.


Now he was finally at the supermarket, which wasn't much better. The elderly ladies scowling at him from across the store was driving him crazy. Even his growls and flash of fangs made them just scowl harder.


Spike was glowering fiercely at the containers of two different kinds of chocolate ice-cream in his hands when an unsettling feeling began to rise in the pitch of his stomach. He frowned. Something was very wrong.


'Buffy!'


He dropped the ice-cream as an invisible hook tugged him forward. All thoughts of the food he was supposed to bring flew out of his mind.


Spike ran as fast as if the devil himself was chasing after him. The buildings and lights became a colourful blur of madness as the sound of his boots pounding against the concrete swamped his hearing. The visions of her hurt and broken flickered in his mind like a collage of horror film screen shots. Twisted shapes of her bleeding body as she writhed on the floor, limbs bent at unnatural angles as her lifeless eyes stared blankly through him. The blood pooling around her in red clarity.


All sorts of macabre scenarios of what he'd find propelled him to run faster. Inhumanly so.


'God, don't let me be late!'


Spike didn't question this feeling, this need to get back to his slayer or something devastating would happen. He tore through the doors of the hotel, nothing but a black blur of speed and violent rage as he ripped them off its hinges and flew up the flight of endless stairs, leaving havoc in his wake.


Spike reached the door and kicked it in, not caring to look for the key, and stepped over the threshold. If his heart beat, it would rip through his chest in terror. He panted needlessly as he reached the bathroom door and breathed in.


The borrowed blood froze in his veins, the sharp icicles of fear digging and shredding him apart as he stared at the bathroom door, gasping. Hesitant to see what's inside. Hesitant to have his world crumble around him and bury him under solid bricks of despair.


Blood. Buffy's blood. Freshly spilt. Strong but rapidly weakening thump of her heart as it struggled to replenish the blood loss. The lingering aroma of fear and despair.


Spike's hand reached for the doorknob in dizzying speed.


TBC


Author's note: More next week! :) Did you like??