Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 6 – A Friend In Need

Lorne was pacing wildly by the time Gunn’s car pulled into the driveway. The things he’d found out about Dante’s made his skin crawl, and he all but ripped open the door when the bell sounded.

“Oh man, this is just all kinds of bad. What I found in records is enough to curl my hair.” Gunn blurted before he’d even gotten a foot inside. He waved a file folder around in the air.

Lorne crossed his arms. “Do tell, sugar plum. I’ve got the oddest feeling that what you tell me dovetails with what I found out, and it won’t make either of us happy. So, spill.”

“How much do you know about vampire hierarchy? About their familial structure and pecking orders and laws and by-laws?” Gunn ran his hand over his head, as if trying to hold onto his thoughts.

“Well, obviously your newly improved noggin contains more than musicals and Machiavelli. Give me the point you’re obviously dying to make.”

“You know Angel’s from a long line of vampires, right?. One going back to the founder of the Order, Aurelius himself. The Master, Heinrich Nest, was also of this line, ancient enough to no longer have his human mask. He became Darla’s Sire sometime around 1609, and she in turn sired Angelus some time around 1760. Angelus sired Penn before the turn of the century and then Drusilla in 1860. Most records show that Spike, or rather, William the Bloody, was sired by Drusilla the fucking loon back in 1880.”

He paused, still not sure how to handle what he’d found out. “Problem is, while Drusilla was responsible for mostly killing William, it was Angelus who finished draining him. Brought him over. According to vampiric law and custom, Angelus is Spike’s Sire.”

“So, what’s in a name, Charles? Either way, he’s still a vampire.” Lorne braced for what was to come. Couldn’t be good.

“When a vamp is sired, he or she becomes a Childe. The Sire is everything – mother, father, and God. They are responsible for laying down the law, and disseminating the lore and structure of vampiric society. They are also responsible for keeping the fledgling safe and in check and are held accountable for every right or wrong perpetrated by said fledgling.”

Lorne shook his head and frowned. “Sounds all nice and neat, but what does it have to do with Spike and these feelings I’ve been getting?”

“You ever heard of Sire’s Rights? They’re usually never invoked – their use is considered a failure on the part of a Sire to control their childer. Basically it’s an excommunication from the Order and from their immediate family. Usually it’s given to the childe themselves… leaving them adrift amongst demon society. Sometimes, it’s transferred to another Order, one that’s willing to take the childe in and be responsible for its actions.”

“Charlie boy, why do I feel you’re holding the big bad news for last? If you’re going to tell me what I think you are – well, I have corroborating evidence and I just might be sick to my stomach.”

With a deep breath, Gunn opened the folder and withdrew a piece of paper, handing it to Lorne. “Sometimes, Sire’s Rights are sold to an individual, not necessarily a vampire, basically leaving the childe in question an indentured slave at the beck and call of the purchaser. And they have the right to dust the vamp when and how they want, if they want.”

“Shit!” exclaimed Lorne. “Angel sold Spike out to this Pret creature at Dante’s.”

Gunn blinked. “Whoa, dude. Coming from you that’s scary. You never curse. You might as well spill your bad news. I think we’ve tossed the possibility of good news out the window with the bathwater hours ago.”

“I think our chances of finding Spike alive – unlive – whatever, just went down to zip. Lorne shook his head. “I know Dante’s. It’s a demon bar. Exclusively. No humans. A demon bar with a penchant for slaughter exhibitions and prostitution.”

“Oh God. You tellin’ me that the boss man sold his own kin to be killed or fucked by other demons?” Gunn went an ashy tone. “Fuck that! Ain’t slavery supposed to have been abolished in this country? And a year after the fact, I’m almost hoping we find out the dude’s dusted, long gone.”

Lorne hugged himself. “I don’t want to believe it. It’s not possible that Angel could do such a serious thing and lie about it – act as if Spike’s out there, having the time of his unlife and causing trouble for anyone he meets. This is part of the problem, Charles. For a vampire with a soul, he just doesn’t act like it. He’s been so damned happy.”

Gunn snorted. “We can stand here for the rest of the day and argue over the soul/no soul issue, but if we have an address, I think it’s time to high-tail it over to Dante’s and see if we can find out anything. It’s not as if I even knew the vamp… just met him the first day he’d popped into the office, and it’s not that I love puttin’ my ass on the line for another vampire – but nobody sells out family or anyone for… that!”

The look of revulsion on Gunn’s face spurred Lorne into action. Gunn was right. This had to end. Now.

“Well, let’s get this party started then, my little strudel. One way or the other, it’s time someone knew of his fate. I’ve got a feeling there’s a whole big story behind all that blonde hair and leather, and Angel-kins went through all kinds of trouble to make sure we never found out.”

~*~

The atmosphere inside the car was tense. Both passengers were lost in their own thoughts for most of the drive to the demon bar, until Lorne broke the silence with:

“No matter what you see and hear, I need you to stay calm. They’ll let you into the bar on my behalf, but Dante’s doesn’t cotton to humans, at least not as patrons. Are you going to have any problems with this?”

“Man, I can be cool. I know when to just chill and sit back. Been following Angel’s lead for so long…” Gunn shook his head. “Damn. This puts a whole new light on things. How am I going to look him in the face again? Knowin’ what we know? No matter what we find out about Blondie, it doesn’t negate the fact that Angel fuckin’ sold his own son to the slaughter.”

His anger grew. “This flies in the face of everything I knew about the vamp. I let my guard down for him! I hated vampires – still do, I suppose. It took forever to trust that Angel took care of his own. That was a constant. He’s still freakin’ out over Buffy after all these years, and Cordy’s an issue for him, too. He doesn’t let go of those he cares about – it’s why I stayed with him. Family, honor and the mission – all things he embodied. All things I took to heart.

“What’s gonna happen if one of us pisses him off? Is he gonna turn around and sell us off, too? Or betray us if the price is right? Damned vampires – and yet, here I am, riding off to the possible rescue of another one.”

“You don’t have to do this, sweet-cheeks. I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind. Do you want me to take you back home? This little mystery’s been around for almost a year, now. A few more minutes more or less won’t make a difference.”

“Nah, what Angel did was wrong. It doesn’t matter if he did it to another vamp. He did it to his own family, and I won’t stand for that. If Blondie’s alright and he pisses me off enough, I’ll dust him myself, but a dude’s got a right to go down fightin.’ Also, if he’s got a story to tell, I wanna hear it – find out what he did to warrant that kind of reaction from his own Sire.”

~*~

“Remember, Strudel… calm is Uncle Lorne’s word of the day, capische?”

“We’re cool. See? Lips sealed.”

They walked into the club, calmly looking around. It was fairly empty, as most of the patrons were nocturnal.

Gunn nudged Lorne with his elbow in the direction of the bar. Sure enough – hanging next to a framed document similar to the one he’d gotten from Records, was Spike’s duster.

“I’m gonna be sick, Lorne – they’ve got his duster pegged like a fuckin’ animal skin on the wall.”

“Remember what I said, cookie… calm is the word for the day. Let me handle this.”

The green-skinned demon walked to the bar, asking for the manager. Pret ambled over, all solicitous of his patron.

“What can I do for you, handsome? Haven’t seen you in here before.”

“Oh, word of mouth brought you to my attention – needed a place to relax after work. I hear you tend to have some… ‘distractions’ available.”

“Ah yes. Always something pretty to take the edge off after a hard day’s work. Looking for anything in particular? Species, gender?”

~Calm, bubbelah – heed your own advice. ~ “I notice you’ve got some lovely leather hanging on your wall. Do you have a story to go with it?”

“Good taste you got there. It’s a beauty, isn’t it? Got it off of one of my little ‘distractions.’ Pretty thing he is, but he’s occupied at the moment. Unless you care to wait… just need a few moments for a hose-down and he’ll be fresh as a daisy.”

Stifling the urge to vomit, Lorne turned to see his partner clenching and unclenching his fists. He turned his attention back to Pret.

“Can you do me a favor? I’ve got a bit of a voyeuristic streak in me… think I can peek in on the little crumpet while he’s busy – see what I’ve got in store for me?”

The S’lugith paused for the briefest moment, during which time Lorne had slipped a few bills out of his wallet and onto the bar. Gathering up the money, he pointed in the direction of the ‘game room.’

“Just a peek in the window, mind – some folks don’t rightly take to getting watched while they play.”

Less than five minutes later, an irate Lorne barreled back to the bar, grabbed Pret by the shirt and decked him with a mean right cross.

Gunn jumped up, just in time to avoid flying debris. Beer dregs spattered his suit from head to toe. “Whoa, dude! What the hell happened to ‘Uncle Lorne’s word of the day?’ Wait, tell me he’s not…”

Dragging Gunn to see for himself was all it took. They stormed into the little room, pulled the ‘client’ away from Spike and threw him bare-assed naked out into the club. Gunn locked the door, and they turned to face the sable haired vampire, suspended from the ceiling in a harness.

He wasn’t conscious – a small blessing for them all. The vampire’s limbs had been bound close to his body. Legs folded back, leather thongs holding calves to thighs, arms crossed and bound at the wrists behind his back. Blood dripped from his mouth and down his thighs.

Lorne barely managed to turn his head before he lost his last meal. Gunn pulled out the pocket knife he always kept handy, and once his very green skinned partner was able to support Spike, cut the unconscious vampire’s bindings and harness straps.

They wrapped his battered form in a blanket from the cot and made their way to the front of the club, the looks in their faces daring anyone to stop them. Handing Spike off to Gunn, Lorne indicated he would be out shortly.

Once they were safely out the door, the empath turned to confront Pret, who was just now regaining consciousness, himself.

“You fucking bastard. How could you do this to another demon? What the hell had he ever done to you?”

“It was a legit deal,” Pret protested. “I’ve got the paperwork right here. Sale all legal and above board. I want him back. He’s mine to do with as I please. Sire’s Rights say it’s so.”

“Did you ever stop and think that there was something a little funny about a deal that important – the assignation of one’s own childe to a complete stranger – for the sum of a dollar? Let me tell you something, buddy – I work for Wolfram & Hart, as well as the vampire who turned his own get over to you. This was wrong with a capital wrong. Shady deal, buckaroo. If news of his liberation reaches Angel’s ears, I can guarantee you that you won’t have a club standing the next day. Wooden structures such as this go up in flames so easily. Get my meaning?”

Pret nodded, realizing he’d lost this particular battle. He might have been a big man when his victim was all helpless before him, but put Pret up against someone large and angry and he folded like a house of cards.

Lorne grabbed the duster and framed document from the wall, and left the club, head held high. He joined Gunn, who had already settled Spike in the back seat. "Let's get out of here," he growled, his voice harsh but his hands, cradling the vampire's head, gentle. 

WARNING!!!!
I feel the need to post a "Do Not Eat Before You Read This Chapter" notice. Spike's been missing for a year, used and abused. Lorne checks out the damage. So very not pretty, people.

And credit where credit is due - if willshenillshe weren't as sick as if not moreso than I am, this chapter wouldn't be quite what it is. The woman has a way with words, and has brought me to new depths.


Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 7 – I Am My Brother’s Keeper

The trip back to Lorne’s was made in utter silence. They’d found Spike, which was totally unexpected. In principal, they had known it was a rescue mission, but were expecting to come away with the knowledge that he’d been dust for months. Now that they had the actual vampire in question seat belted in the back of the car, his head resting in Lorne’s lap, the question became: “What next?”

Gunn gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Are you sure you want to do this, man? Take him home with you?”

Of course he wasn’t sure. What did he know about the care and feeding of vampires? “What would you have me do, friend? There’s only one person who could properly take care of him, and he’s the very person we have to keep him away from.”

“You’ve got one seriously messed up bloodsucker on your hands." Gunn shook his head. “All right, I’ll amend that to we’ve got one seriously messed up bloodsucker on our hands. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?”

Lorne laid his hand on his confidant’s shoulder. “Thanks, cookie. This is going to be hard enough with both of us involved. First things first, we need to get this cutie pie all tucked up in bed and out of sight. Do you think you can make a blood run?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Gunn rubbed his chin in thought. “Have to make sure to hit a blood bank that doesn’t deliver to Wolfram & Hart. Wouldn’t be the smartest move to use the office account to have blood delivered elsewhere. Avoiding suspicion is of paramount importance.”

The green-skinned demon brushed his hand gently over Spike’s pale forehead, smoothing tendrils of hair away from his face.

“You poor bastard,” he murmured. “No matter what you might have done to set off the boss…” Lorne sighed. There were no words to justify what Angel had done.

~*~

Gunn brought the car to a full stop in the driveway. “I’m gonna have to get this car fumigated, man – our boy is a bit ripe for socializing right now.”

Gathering Spike up in his arms, Lorne exited the car. “Yeah, it’s become increasingly obvious that I need to get him washed up. It’s as good a time as any to check out his injuries.”

He shifted the unconscious vampire in his arms, making sure he had a solid grip. “I’ve gotta go, doll – the lure of the bath awaits. See you soon with that blood?”

Gunn offered a short salute. “You got it – a cooler full of yummy human goodness for the vampire of the day.”

As the car pulled down the driveway, Lorne turned, opened his door and carried Spike up to the guestroom. Gently placing him on the bed, he went into the adjoining bathroom and filled the tub with hot water, knowing it would cool a bit before Spike was ready.

Not knowing if the vampire would hear or take comfort in anything he said, Lorne spoke in a soft, soothing voice. It eased his own nerves, anyway.

“Looks like personal hygiene wasn’t their utmost priority, sport – I’ve got a nice bathtub full of warm water for you. Hopefully getting rid of the crud will help you rest easier.

From the smells and the red stains seeping through they blanket they'd wrapped Spike in, Lorne could tell this wasn't going to be easy. His poor stomach, what it had already been through during one night already... still, couldn't be a patch on what the vampire had to have suffered. Was still suffering, if his faint twitches and soft moans even while unconscious were anything to go by.

You can do this, Lorney-boy. Just open the blanket.

Gently as he could, he unwrapped the edges of the rough material and peeled them away from Spike's naked frame. The smell of blood and come, both old and new, hit him afresh. He fought not to stumble back, but he desperately wished he had some menthol to smear under his nose. Spike was filthy.

Not only dirty, for all of Pret's talk about a hose-down, but badly hurt, too. Lorne's green fingers probed gently at him, starting from the neck and working his way down. Some things squeaked - fractured bones? – and some had a too-soft feel to them, like rotten fruit.

He hesitated before unwrapping the part of the blanket that covered Spike's crotch. Knowing Pret, it would be worst of all here.

With a deep breath, he uncovered the damage.

His stomach flipped over at the first incredulous look, and he fought not to be sick for the second time that day. Damage? More like near-destruction. All of it Pret's work, or at his permission. A human couldn't survive something like that and stay a man.

A leather ring, at least two sizes two small, trapped Spike's engorged cock so tightly that it bit into the skin. Dick and balls both were nearly black with pooled blood, skin nearly splitting underneath a layer of demon saliva and who knew what else. The edges of an ugly, homemade piercing were ragged around the end of a rough-and-ready Prince Albert that looked no better than a bent nail shoved through the tip of his cock. A chain – looked like bicycle chain, and way too short – leading from the PA to a heavy looking ring stabbed through his navel and lower belly kept the painful organ bent up at a sharp angle. Both stank of raw flesh, constantly pulled at and kept open, never left to heal.

"Oh, gods," Lorne murmured, terrified to touch the mess. "That's got to come off you right now."

Only... what would happen when it did? Would he come so hard he woke screaming with the pain of it? Would the wounds flutter and pulse open, without giving him any relief at all? Maybe he should wait for Gunn.

No – no. Gunn didn't need to see this. Bad enough he had to himself. Let Spike keep some of his pride, anyhow.

There was a pair of metal shears and some good strong scissors in a drawer nearby, he knew. He'd just have to pray that he could snip those bonds loose and give Spike relief from what had to be unbearable pain without him waking up to experience it.

Had to do it. He couldn't take those near-silent moans and grimaces anymore.

His shaking hands reached for the instruments. "Okay, bubbeleh," he whispered. "Let's get you free."

At the first touch of Lorne’s hand on the vampire’s damaged genitalia, Spike arched his back completely off the bed – body taut in its agony, mouth wide open in a silent scream. Even there, in the soft pink tissues of his mouth, the damage was terrible.

“So sorry, peach-pie.” He had to restrain his own sobs. Between being compassionate and empathic, he was overwhelmed by the damage perpetrated on Spike’s person. “I know it’s beyond painful for you, but it can’t be helped. This stuff has got to come off before you lose what the good lord blessed you with.”

Steeling himself to the task at hand, the green-skin demon shakily proceeded to cut through the cock ring – afraid to peel it off without taking skin with it. The penis twitched once or twice, and an odd mixture of blood and come oozed out of the slit, around the piercing, as if it had been contained so long, that the mixture had coagulated.

Shit Not able to make it to his feet, Lorne lost the battle with his stomach for the second time, turning his rug into another casualty.

Empty as he was ever going to be, he returned to the piercings, cutting through them as quickly and as carefully as he could, removing the jagged pieces of metal. More of that coagulated mess oozed sluggishly from the open wounds.

He wished Gunn would get back with the blood. Spike needed it, and fast.

Once again, he gathered the writhing vampire in his arms, and settled him gently into the warmth of the bath, on a folded towel he’d placed to cushion his broken body, and to keep him from slipping under the water.

It must have been soothing, as Spike stopped thrashing about and relaxed.

Lorne knelt by the tub, washcloth and antiseptic bath gel in hand. He made a perfunctory job of cleansing Spike’s delicate skin, not wanting to open any half healed wounds, or aggravate the fresh ones. He placed one arm under the vampire’s neck, and with his free hand, pulled the towel down to the other end of the tub, so he could wash his hair.

“Definitely more than a one bath job, my friend, but this will have to do for now.”

In a reverse of his previous actions, Spike was returned to a semi reclining position in the tub. Lorne turned to face the prospect of removing the cock ring, loathe to cause any more pain, when the offending piece of leather floated to the surface of the bathwater.

“One less agony for you, at least,” he murmured.

He lifted the now much fresher body out of the tub, and onto the soft towels he’d placed on the floor in advance. To his relief ~and the vampire’s ~ Spike’s penis was only semi-erect, and much less angry looking. Bruised and abraded, yes, but no longer in danger of the skin splitting.

“Almost done, muffin. I promise rest is just moments away.” He gently towel dried the vampire’s body and hair, and brought him back to bed.

Damn, spoke too soon. Returning to the bed with a magenta silk bathrobe, Lorne noticed a small puddle of blood pooling between Spike’s legs. Cursing himself for being three times a fool, he wondered how he could possibly have forgotten to check for damage… there.

“It just doesn’t end for you, does it, Spike?” He sighed, and gently eased the vampire over on his side. Gingerly spreading his cheeks apart, he saw that the swollen opening trickled a slow but steady ooze of dark, thickened blood.

With a delicate touch Lorne probed around the abused pucker, searching for what, he wasn’t exactly sure. Tender touches, not meant to intrude ensured that there was nothing foreign lodged inside causing the bleeding. Wrapping the silk robe around Spike’s body, all he could do was hope time and fresh blood would be sufficient to heal the wounded creature in his arms.

Holding Spike close to his chest, Lorne managed to ease a fresh towel under the vampire’s body to absorb the newly spilled blood. He wrapped both arms around the spare back, softly rocking and crooning nonsense words of reassurance and safety.

And the unexpected happened, just as Lorne heard Gunn pull up. Spike’s lips moved against the crook of his neck – no sound, just soft movement, and Lorne was grateful that the blood has arrived.

~*~

Warmth. It had been so long he almost didn’t recognize the sensation for what it was.

Kind words.

Strong arms.

He knew what was coming.

Pain.

Kind words and strong arms meant agonizing pain.

He curled back in on himself and waited for it.
Hell Is In the Details – Fool’s Gold – An Interlude

It was a long plane ride. Nine hours from London to Los Angeles, if you didn’t count hang time at the airport and the inevitable delays. Lots of time for self-reflection.

Buffy settled into her seat and closed her eyes. She was on her way to her first love. The man ~no, vampire ~ she’d willingly have died for as a teenager. The vampire she’d sent to hell when things got twisted. The vampire who’d left her twisting in the wind for her own good.

And all because the vampire she really wanted was dust at the bottom of a closed Hellmouth.

She’d tried the normal life. Really, she had. Cut way back on the slaying with the help of all those newbies out there. Actually dated – frequently. Lots of men.

Never more than once or twice each. They left her unfulfilled and bored. And can we say absolutely no staying power? Not to mention the restraint necessary to keep from… bruising the boys .

Which brought her back to him, once again. No matter what she did, who she did or where she went, that infuriating little half smirk/half heart rending smile followed her. The peace she’d found in his arms those last few days… it eluded her at every twist and turn of her life.

A year had passed since life as she knew it ended, and it was time to move on. Angel was a known quantity – mostly. She had no other choice. The normal life with the normal lover she thought she craved couldn’t hold up to her abnormal reality. She wasn’t The Chosen One anymore, but still – it had left its taint.

She sighed, turning her face to the tiny window. Nothing to see but clouds, blocking everything from her vision. Best thing she could do was close her eyes, sleep and wake up to the possibility of a new life with Angel.

~*~

The wait at LAX was interminable. Teeming with people, it set Angel’s vampire senses on edge; the thud-thudding of thousands of heartbeats, the whooshing of blood through veins – and the smells. Never before had he cursed his enhanced senses as he was at that very moment.

Buffy was finally going to be his, just as she should be. As she always should have been. No more human weaklings, vying for her attention. No more snarky pretenders to the good fight taking up space in her heart. No more worries about loosing Angelus on the world.

The stench from the food courts was making him ill. Why the hell couldn’t her plane come in at some other terminal? Oh, how he longed for the days when he could let loose the demon and tear through the annoyances in his way.

Instead, he walked to the far end of the terminal, putting as much space between him and the masses as he could. He knew he was making himself crazy. All he needed to feel right again was to see her face, looking at him, full of expectations for their life together.

Angel admitted to himself that their future happiness wasn’t exactly set in stone. Buffy was no longer a naïve teenager, easily led and swayed by the older and wiser man in her life. Not that she’d ever been exactly that.

There were certainly issues to be discussed. Wolfram & Hart, for one. He knew she wasn’t happy about his easy trust in his new mission as CEO. For another, she would need to find something to occupy herself – maybe she could go back to school. He’d even find a place for her at W&H, if she’d let him.

The possibilities were endless, and the possible rewards more boundless still. To not be alone. It had been so long since he’d been part of a couple, or a family – one he wanted, anyway. Something that annoying shit Spike had gotten right after all – he could pick and choose his family.

He looked up at the monitors. The flight was about to land.

~*~

Gods, she was so tired of planes and airports. She remembered the days when all she wanted was a trip out of Sunnydale. Never thought she’d live long enough to go on vacation, or visit Europe. Now, she’s seen more of the world than she cares to remember. And always alone. So damned alone.

The landing was smooth enough to be boring. As she gathered up her handbags, preparing to deplane – she spared a final thought for her fallen… companion? Those last weeks would never be forgotten, and neither would his unflinching support of her:

Time to move on, Spike. I know you’d tell me my decision was ‘the dog’s bollocks’ but I’m not strong enough to do this on my own anymore. I wish you were here. At least…”

She sighed, and left the plane, and began her search for Angel.

~*~

Angel stared at the doors, waiting for the passengers to deplane. He smelled her before he saw her; it was a scent he’d never been able to forget. Slowly, he walked to the velvet ropes that separated the disembarking passengers from the waiting throng.

Their eyes caught, and Buffy’s face softened with recognition.

She dropped her bags and allowed herself to be caught up in the bear hug that was Angel. Much like the last time they’d kissed at the vineyard, it was all consuming – blocking out the sounds and sights around them.

But when she had to break the kiss to catch her breath she realized one very important fact.

The road she was prepared to travel with this vampire was gonna need a whole lot of pavingHell Is In the Details – Chapter 8 - Perchance to Dream

Not bound.

Comfort?

So afraid to hope.

Best to just not be…there.

~*~

Gunn walked into the room, carrying a tray with several mugs of warmed blood, a spoon and a straw. “Didn’t know what kind of shape he’d be in, so thought I’d play boy scout and be prepared. How’s our boy doin’?”

Lorne eased the vampire back onto the bed. “There are just no words. If I were human? My skin tone would still be as gorgeously green as it is right now. What they did to him… they should be ripped apart.”

“I’m all for a little ass-kickin’. But we’d better try getting’ some blood into him before it coagulates. And did I ever tell you how much I wish I didn’t know about heating blood to 98.6?” Gunn shuddered, handing over the first mug and the spoon.

Lorne tucked a towel around Spike’s neck and shoulders, pretty sure that feeding was going to be anything but simple. With his arm under the vampire’s neck for support, the green-skinned demon lifted a blood laden spoon to Spike’s pale lips.

Which remained closed.

A second and third try fared no better.

“Maybe you just need to get him started, dude. How about a nice fingerful of blood – see if he rouses?”

Lorne gave him his best ‘you’re insane?’ look. “Sure, I’ll stick my blood soaked digit into the mouth of a starving vamp. If he comes to he’ll make me a Lorne-ka-bob.”

But in the end, he resorted to that very tactic. Coating his finger with the rapidly cooling blood, Lorne ran it gently over Spike’s lips, trying to coax his mouth open. He kept his touch gentle, remembering the damage he’d seen earlier. For his efforts, he received a small twitch, barely registering against his slick finger.

Trying once more with a fresh fingerful of blood, the demon increased the pressure against Spike’s lips, gaining entry as his mouth opened, lips forming a small oval.

“You wanna tell me again why you think this is such a good idea? I feel like I’m putting my hand into the lion’s mouth, and saying ‘come and get it, kitty – finger food, free of charge.’”

Gunn shook his head. “Man, he’s gotta feed. Try again, maybe rubbing some on his gums.”

“If I lose any fingers, bucko – you’re turning the pages in my Sunday paper. Once more into the fray, and then we can probably kiss these mugs goodbye.” Lorne made a face. “This stuff goes lumpy so fast”

His one last attempt at finger feeding provoked a violent reaction. Rubbing his blood soaked finger against the vampire’s gums and tongue stimulated a swallowing reflex. Spike reared up, knocking Lorne halfway to the floor, and loosed an ungodly sound.

“What the fuck is that noise?” Gunn looked around for the source of the terrible creaking sound that now filled the room.

A look of horror crossed Lorne’s face, as he realized that sound was coming from Spike. Shit, he must have hit another injured spot. Sorry, doll-face. Let me look and see what’s causing you such trauma.”

Motioning Gunn to help immobilize the vampire’s thrashing head, Lorne gently re-opened Spike’s mouth for a closer look. As he’d noted before, there were raw scrapes on the insides of his cheeks, upper palate and tongue, as far as he could see. But what caught his eye this time were the two spaces where Spike’s incisors should have been.

Lorne’s breath caught. “Gods and monsters – no wonder he’s hurting. Look at this!” Pointing out the empty spaces, he noticed the beginnings of sharp points making their way past the surface of the gumline.

“You tellin’ me all this caterwauling’s due to teething pains?”

“We’re talking oral fixations to the nth degree here – can you imagine how sensitive the fangs must be to a vamp? No wonder he’s kicking up such a ruckus. Be a love and get me an icepack from the freezer? One of those soft gel thingies. In the meantime, I’m gonna try and bypass those teeth and get the blood straight into his throat.”

Gunn grimaced, exiting the room quickly. It had to be done, yeah – but didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Spike’s agonized cries settled into small whimpers. He was unable or unwilling to close his mouth, due to either pain or ~shudders ~ conditioning. Taking advantage of the situation, Lorne tipped a spoonful of blood towards the back of his tongue, gently stroking the vampire’s throat to encourage swallowing.

~*~

Blood. Human blood?

He’d been reduced to pig and chicken for so long, it was ambrosial.

But blood meant healing, which led to more pain.

If only he could refuse.

But he couldn’t.

And so he swallowed.

~*~

“Come on, Spike,” Lorne encouraged. “There’s a clever vampire. The more blood we get into your system, the sooner you’ll be back with us. I’m sure you have a lovely tale to tell, crumpet. Gunn and I want to hear everything. Find out just how such a thing happened.” He managed to trickle four or five more spoonfuls down the vampire’s throat before the blood was too congealed to slide off the spoon.

Gunn reappeared with the ice pack, and Lorne gestured for silence. He’d eased Spike back onto the bed, and noticed the lack of tension in his torso and face.

“Some progress, it seems, cookie,” he quietly said. “What do you see when you look at him?”

Looking closely, Gunn focused in on the vampire’s chest. “Damn, is he actually breathing? I don’t remember Angel ever…”

Shit, shit, shit! At the mention of the elder vampire’s name, Lorne noticed the tension return tenfold to Spike’s body. Ah gods, no – don’t let him…” and then…

Spike vamped out, roaring first in anger, then agonizing pain as the newly erupted teeth lengthened into fangs, tearing at the tender gums.

With no thoughts to his own safety, Gunn leapt onto the bed, grabbing the gamefaced vampire by the shoulders. “Shit, Lorne… this isn’t what I signed on for – I’m not real happy to have this guy’s bloody fangs two inches from my neck. What the hell can we do?”

Awkwardly patting Spike’s back Gunn tried to be reassuring. “It’s okay, man. You’re safe here. I promise, nothin’s gonna hurt you again – got your back, for sure.”

Lorne joined them on the bed, trying to soothe the agitated vampire with a gentle massage of his temples. “Come on, mi amigo. I know you’re scared and you have every right to be. Gunn and I are here to help. We’ll hold you and talk to you and prove that you can trust us. Just open your eyes, sugar – and see for yourself.”

~*~

Fangs must mean true face – but true face meant pain and no fangs.

And still, soothing words and gentle touches.

Two different? He’s done two before.

Never pleasant.

Safe? How he wishes.

Dare he hope? Can he trust?

He relaxes slightly, true face receding – fangs retracting.

To sleep, perchance to dream…

~*~

They heard it first – the subtle shifting of bone that signified the return of Spike’s human mask – and felt the vampire’s body relax. When Gunn shifted him in his arms, it was obvious that Spike had fallen asleep once more.

“I swear, man – never gonna utter the boss’ name in his presence again.” Gunn left the bed, pacing back and forth as his nerves began to unwind, shaking the tension out of his limbs. “Only good thing is that a reaction like that means he’s still in there. He can hear and understand us, but he’s probably afraid to act. Reminds me of a puppy who’s been kicked one too many times – wary as hell.”

Before the green-skinned demon could answer, Gunn’s cell phone began to vibrate. Checking out the LED display, he gulped – Wolfram & Hart.

“Charles Gunn here. How can… oh, Harmony. What can I do for you?”

Lorne’s red eyes narrowed with dislike and the slightest bit of fear, worried that they were being called to task for not being at work.

The vampiress heaved a put upon sigh. “Bossy’s called a party for this evening, and attendance is mandatory. Little Miss Slayer freak is here, and I think he’s got an announcement to make. I know he wants to introduce her to everyone, and I don’t know why I have to be the one to do this but everyone’s too busy, and you and Lorne haven’t been here today and do you know where he is?”

Gunn laughed. “Slow down there, girl. It never hurts to pause between sentences. We had an incident last night. Seems as if one of Lorne’s boyfriends is sick, and he asked for my help in getting him to the doctor.” A quick glance towards the bed confirmed that Lorne was happy with the excuse.

“Yeah, he’s gonna have to keep a bedside vigil for a few weeks. I’m sure he’ll call in, or show up tomorrow to straighten things out all proper.”

“Angel’s going to be all pissy about it when his Entertainment guy doesn’t show up,” Harmony warned, “but I’ll do what I can. I’ll see you tonight at eight, sharp – in the second floor conference room.”

Gunn slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Sorry about that, man. I couldn’t think of anything else, and you’ve got your hands full of vampire. He doin’ any better?”

“Seems to be relaxing into a real sleep, poor thing. He’s not as twitchy, and he’s not moaning as much.” He snuck a quick peek under the robe. “That er… uh… it’s not quite so… angry as it was before. I doubt it was the teensy bit of blood he took – maybe it’s just the rest.”

Gunn shivered. “Don’t tell me. Never tell me. If I get plastered and ask – even if I won’t remember in the morning… I just don’t want to know. Oh, Harmony said that tonight’s party is to introduce everyone to Buffy on a personal level – some sort of announcement in the works. I’ll just make your apologies. I really don’t want to be there, but it would look suspicious if we’re both out.”

“Thanks, my man. I don’t think I could stand to be in the same room as you know who this evening, plus I really don’t want to leave Spike in this state. If he woke alone and in a strange place, there’s no telling what he’d do. And I want to try and get him to eat some more.”

“Sounds like a plan. Catch you later, dude. Good luck with Blondie.” One last look behind him at the pair, and Gunn closed the door behind him as he left.

Turning his attention back to the vampire, Lorne ran his fingertips over the pronounced cheekbones, marveling at how much better he looked in such a short timespan. “Alright, cookie – I’ll let you rest for a bit. We’ll try some more blood in a couple of hours. I’ll be reading in the rocking chair if you need me.”

~*~

He must be crazy – hearing things.

Buffy? Can’t be her.

She left – They all left.

She doesn’t know.

She won’t come for him.

Too much to ask for, this time.



Hell Is In the Details – Interlude – The Game Is Afoot

Buffy toed off her shoes and threw herself face-first onto the luxurious bed in her borrowed room. God, she was exhausted. That dinner party had been a colossal bore. Her face hurt from holding onto a smile of the damned for literally hours on end.

‘Hello, I’m Buffy – nice to meet you,’

‘Yes, it’s true – I’m that Slayer,’

‘No, I certainly don’t miss guarding a Hellmouth.’

All night long, the same questions! Over and over and over again. And all night long, the same answers. She could have sent the Buffybot for all the sparkling wit or personal opinion she’d been allowed to exhibit.

And she’d been plastered to Angel’s side for the entire evening – paraded around like a show dog. It wouldn’t have surprised her if some of the guests had thought about prying her mouth open to look at her teeth. She’d practically had to ask permission to go pee!

If parties like this were going to be a staple of her new life with Angel, they were going to have to have a talk, and soon.

She remembered being introduced to some of the original Fang Gang – Gunn… and Fred, was it? Definite issues between Gunn and Angel. An undercurrent so thick you could have cut it with a dull butter knife. They’d stared and postured and waltzed around each other like prizefighters before a match.

At one point, it seemed as if Angel was sniffing at him like a dog! Buffy shuddered, delicately. No matter how much time had passed, that scenting thing was the one vampire sense that really, really creeped her out.

For the umpteenth time since she’d decided to make Angel part of her life again, Buffy pondered her choices. She missed the companionship of someone who knew her life from top to bottom. Someone who she didn’t have to explain things to, who knew what being the Slayer had done to her. Who knew her heartaches and her losses and would never inadvertently bring those subjects up to cause her pain.

Angel fit the bill, He knew almost everything that mattered about her. She’d loved him once, fully and without reservation. And he loved her. So why wasn’t she more enthused?

For a change, she wanted to talk. Needed to talk this all out with someone who wouldn’t judge her and find her wanting.

She needed Spike. It was so easy to picture in her mind’s eye and ear, the way the conversation would go:

Spike, my brain’s all muddly. I don’t know what to do about Angel.

~That ponce? Why are you bothering with him for?~

Be nice, you. I need someone in my life and since you’re no longer here, he’s the next best thing.

~Bloody hell, Slayer – who are you kidding? You don’t need anyone but yourself. And I’m always here for you, pet. All you have to do is open your heart.~

I wish there was some other way, Spike. I’m not as strong as you think.

~Yeah, well – he’s a right git, that one. Don’t let him push you around, luv. You’ve always been perfect for me. Loved your highs and your lows.~

You never judged me, even when you should have.

~Got no high point on which to stand, do I? Can’t help who you love – you just do.~

Buffy shivered and wrapped her arms protectively around herself. She wished she could just keep her eyes closed forever and listen to the sound of his voice.

~*~

Angel was thrilled. Walking into his suite, he quickly undressed and tossed his clothing into the hamper for the maid service to pick up in the morning. The smile he wore, however, he knew he wouldn’t be able to lose for a week.

Buffy had been just perfect tonight, dressed to the nines in a blood-red velvet gown with matching heels, making her at least four inches taller than her petite five feet two. Arm in arm they’d greeted his guests and employees. She’d been everything he could have hoped for – charming and sweet, winning over everyone she met.

He couldn’t remember a better night at Wolfram & Hart. Except for one little flaw… Gunn. Something was just… off about the man. Wary and ill at ease – hearkening back to the days when the street punk had first allowed his guard down enough to work with a vampire.

And his smell… something had pricked at Angel’s senses when he’d scented Gunn tonight. Something almost familial, with hints of terror and resignation. A heady aroma, but disconcerting. Was it possible he’d run into Dru?

The only other time he’d smelled quite that combination of aromas was… William! That was it. When William had first fledged, he’d been terrified. Angelus had taken full advantage of his situation to ‘teach’ William the finer points of submission and family pecking order – by beating and fucking the fear out of him until he’d come to expect and then crave the attention.

Angelus had relished destroying the last illusions of self-esteem the younger vampire had. Drusilla was a wonderful tool, and he’d used her to crack the thin veneer of importance and place William had wanted with his new ‘family.’ Tease and taunt, pretend to allow and then snatch it away at the last moment – that was the perfect way to break William down.

And the nights he’d taken his frustrations and pleasures out in William’s ass were the sweetest of all. He’d never been easy; always put up a fight before being beaten and overpowered. Plowing into that virgin hole for the first time was like being strangled by an iron fist in a velvet glove, and he’d made sure to ‘shake hands’ with the boy as often as possible.

Angel could feel his demon crowing even now over those delicious memories. In his own way, William had been as much a masterpiece of devastation as Drusilla ever was. But that was done – over with.

He shrugged the memories off like an old coat. Those days were gone, Spike was gone. Unimportant in the scheme of things.

Buffy was all that mattered now.

He’d grinned to himself. Oh yeah. He had some wonderful things planned for the pair of them…  
Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 9 – To Be Or Not To Be

Lorne awoke to the odd sensation of being watched. Slowly and cautiously he rose from his rocking chair and headed over to the bed. Spike hadn’t moved an inch from the position Lorne had left him in.

He tried to remain calm and soothing. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll just bet you were checking out Uncle Lorne when my eyes were closed. It’s all right, Spike. I’m just here to help. You can trust me.”

No reaction.

He sighed. “Didn’t think that would be enough to convince you, kiddo – but you have to give me points for trying. I’ll be back in a flash. Just gonna heat up some breakfast downstairs. You’ve got to be hungry.”

When he was sure the demon had left the room, Spike opened his eyes. He was weak – weaker than after that church organ had consigned him to a soddin’ wheelchair for months. He’d be unable to defend himself if this one wanted to hurt him.

But Spike knew he’d been with… Len? No, Lorne – that’s what the other being called him – for hours already. He hadn’t taken him or hurt him once since he’d regained consciousness. Pret had never allowed him so much rest between appointments before.

He attempted to test his limbs, to see his range of movement and muscle strength.

Nothing.

Not so much as a bloody twitch.

What the fuck had they done to him?

Exhausted from his feeble attempts to move his body, Spike barely heard the green-skinned demon re-enter the room in time to shut his own eyes.

Lorne laughed, softly. “It’s okay, Spike. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s safe for you to open your eyes. C’mon, sweet-cheeks. Open up those baby blues and see if you recognize me. We’ve met before, you know. Briefly.”

Spike opened his eyes again, and returned Lorne’s gaze as the demon stood to the side of the bed, holding a mug of ~human, by the smell of it ~ blood. Spike was ravenous.

Lorne reached for a straw, and sat down on the side of the bed, next to Spike. “Do you want to try and feed yourself, or do you want me to hold the mug for you?”

Spike tried to do two things. First – to raise his arm. Spectacularly unsuccessful. Second – to ask for the proffered help. The resultant croak surprised both men.

“Never mind, sugar. You’ll be your old self in no time,” Lorne soothed.

Spike’s eyes widened tremendously and he began to shudder. Lorne blinked in surprise. An odd reaction – why would he be shaking his head ‘no’ at the mention of getting his voice back? Could they have damaged him more than…?

He pushed on, trying to calm the beleaguered creature. “If you can suck this goop up through the straw, fine. If not I’ve got a spoon here with your name on it. You can thank me, later.”

Fear, then resignation skittered across the vampire’s face, registering in the droop of his head and rigid body language.

Realizing that he’d been totally misunderstood, Lorne rushed to set the vampire’s mind at ease. “Oh, Spike! No, no, no – I didn’t mean what… oh hell no. No monkey business, I swear. I just meant you can show off your party manners when you’re able to speak. So you can tell me what happened.”

Spike swallowed convulsively, trying to calm down. He’d been prepared to vanish within himself again. There was no way he’d be able to survive another round of ‘hurt me – fuck me’ the way he was feeling.

Lorne could see the incredible effort Spike was making to stay with him. Such a bad choice of words to have panicked him so badly, though he wasn’t sure what or why. Placing the mug down on the night table, he fluffed a few pillows , and helped prop the vampire up into a reclining position – all the better to drink if he was able.

Lorne held the straw to dry lips, pleased when Spike managed to open his lips to take it in. With an obvious effort, the sable haired vampire managed to suck down half the contents, before closing his eyes from exhaustion.

“You done, kiddo?” the empath asked, moving the mug away.

Spike slowly shook his head ‘no’ and opened his mouth once more for the straw. The rest of the mug’s contents were consumed rapidly.

“Good job, mi amigo. You sleep now and let all that yummy goodness work its magic on you. I’m off to the showers, then downstairs to try and figure out our next step here, and I’ll be back to see if you need anything, soon. Sleep well.”

~*~

Food and rest.

Peace.

It would have been so easy just to slip away again.

Who was this Lorne, and why does he seem familiar?

Don’t care right now. Want to trust him. Need to trust someone.

Sleep is… good.

~*~

Freshly scrubbed and dressed – totally blood and other substances free, Lorne felt like a new man. A little breakfast settled his nerves. A few moments reprieve from his patient upstairs were all he asked for.

It wasn’t as if Spike was much trouble. Outside of the whole Nurse Lorne routine, with the added perk of removing the most horrific body accessories he’d ever seen, Spike was not difficult to care for. Heating up a couple of mugs of blood wasn’t an imposition.

No, what stressed him out wasn’t the physical work involved in caring for the vampire – it was the emotional toll of seeing his suffering due to the actions of another. A man he’d called a friend without hesitation less than three days before.

If he felt betrayed by Angel, he could only imagine how crushed Spike must have been upon learning of his Sire’s treachery.

Lorne also knew that he couldn’t avoid Angel forever. The best defense is – hell, the best defense would be running away, but since that wasn’t an available option – the best defense is a good offense.

And so, though plenty nervous, the empath called in to the office, in hopes of heading off any angry vampire vibes from the boss.

“Hello, Angel-kins,” he chirped before Angel could start talking – or ranting. “Just wanted to tell you how so so sorry I am for not getting to party with you and your little twinkie last night. My poor Ramone was just a mess, and he needed me to…”

Angel’s glower could be felt through the phone. “Look, Lorne – that was an important party for me. Buffy’s giving up the whole slaying deal to be in my life again. I need my people to show a united front. To show Buffy that Wolfram & Hart is more than just its evil reputation – that it’s about family and friends.”

The emotionally overwrought demon snapped; the absolute hypocrisy in Angel’s words made him ill. “What the hell do you want from me, Angel? I’m tired. I’ve been up all damned night between Ramone puking his guts out and askin’ for his mama. I’ve already apologized for not being there to greet the little woman. Give me another week or so and I’ll mount a damned musical number for everyone’s enjoyment.”

At the anger from the normally placid Lorne, Angel backpedaled faster than a biker in traffic. “Whoa, big guy – calm down. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not entitled to a little personal time. And tell Ramone I hope he feels better. You’ll have to bring him around sometime, maybe to our next fundraiser,” Angel demurred.

Lorne wilted. God, it all sounded so fake now. “No, I’m really sorry, Angel-cakes. It’s been… a really long night, and I just need to crawl into my little bed and…”

The door swung open at that moment; Lorne waved his hands frantically, hoping Gunn would keep quiet until he got off the phone.

“Sorry for the interruption – the mailman was at the door. Ramone, fundraiser, yeah – sounds good. Another time then, boss?”

Paying no attention to Lorne’s farewell cue, Angel continued. “Tell you what. I need a favor, and it’ll make things copasetic between us. I’m going to be stuck in meetings all Friday, and since your schedule is already freed up and if Ramone feels better in three days, I’d like you to take Buffy out on the town for the day. Some shopping, a little lunch – you know, schmoozing. As a favor to me.”

~Shit, he should have known he’d get stuck chauffeuring Angel’s trophy girl around like a glorified babysitter. He’d have to get Spike to a healthier place before Friday if he had any hopes of leaving him alone for hours. ~ But what use fighting it? “Fine, babe. Just tell me the when and where and I’ll pick the little lady up and squire her around. Gotta go now, lamb. Nature calls. Ciao.”

He barely had time to close out the phone call when Gunn grabbed his shoulders.

“Man, I thought you’d never get off the damn phone. I’m tellin’ ya, we’ve got a big problem. You an’ me were all over Spike. And last night, despite several showers, Angel was sniffing me up and down like I was the only available fire hydrant around for miles. It freaked his little girl out.”

Jamming his hands into his pockets, along with his phone, Lorne couldn’t contain his curiosity. “So dish, cookie. What’s the what with little Miss Buffy Summers?”

Both men were startled by the crash from upstairs, complete with breaking glass. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, worried as to what they would find in Spike’s room, they were met with one very pissed off vampire leaning back against the pillows, and the bedside lamp, knocked down and shattered on the floor.

Gunn smiled broadly. “Look at you, man! A bath, a night’s sleep and a little blood and you’re a whole new vamp.”

Spike stared at the man. His eyes flashed from blue to amber and back again, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest.

Gunn held up his hands in mock surrender. “Take it easy, dude. I’m safe – promise. Lorne and me? We’re the ones who got you out of that hell hole. Not gonna hurt you now.”

Lorne moved cautiously to the bed. “Come on, dumpling. You want me to tell you where we met before?”

Spike nodded, slowly.

“You’ve got to keep calm about it – I promise I’ll explain fully, and you really can trust us, okay?”

Once more, the vampire nodded.

“Gunn and I work at Wolfram & Hart, for Angel. We were there when you first popped out of that amulet in his office.”

Spike’s growling resumed, louder now – irises a solid amber but gameface held at bay by sheer will; his body tensed for betrayal.

Lorne was stumped. What could he possibly say to ease the agitated vampire’s mind – to disassociate themselves from Angel’s deeds and to prove they were on his side?

“Alright, Spike. I understand we’ve got a bit of a lack of trust situation here. I suggest a truce for the time being, until it’s all sorted out. Can you handle a truce? Understand neither me nor Gunn will hurt you in any way, or inform Angel that you’re here?”

Spike hissed, possibly in an effort to actually say ‘yes’ and nodded in acquiescence.

Lorne motioned for Gunn to come closer to his side of the bed, so the vampire could see them both at the same time.

“Before we get into the questions – both yours and ours, are you hungry? Would you like another mug of blood?”

Spike managed to hold up two fingers. Obviously that last mug of blood had done him some good.

Gunn snickered. “Man, after working with English for so long, I need you to clarify your response. Do those two fingers mean you want two mugs, or you want us to fuck off?”

It was the humor that finally broke the ice. The amber bled from Spike’s eyes, leaving them a deep shade of blue – as his lower lip curled up in the subtlest of smirks. This time, he held up one finger, indicating Gunn’s first choice.

“Cool, dude. Be right back with the liquid refreshment.”

When they were alone, Lorne turned back to face Spike. “It seems as if your healing’s kicked in, boy-chick. You certainly weren’t able to move the last time I saw you. Question is – can you talk? Say something to me, crumpet – anything.”

The vampire’s good mood vanished abruptly, as he thumped his hand against his chest, eyes flashing amber once again with his agitation. With a voice as raw and creaking as a rusty hinge , he gritted out a single syllable – “ike,” almost too softly to be heard.

Lorne edged closer. “Would you mind repeating that, kiddo? I know it’s been awhile, but I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

Faster than the empath thought possible, Spike grabbed onto his shirt, fisting the material and not letting him go. “Spike,” he said, still rough, but clearly this time.

He tried to remain calm, unwilling to goad the vampire’s demon with a show of fear. “I know you’re Spike, crumpet. Real clear on that fact.”

Surprisingly strong arms shoved Lorne away and he staggered a few steps, just far enough to be clear of the flying debris when Spike hooked his arm around the nightstand and yanked it away from the wall.

Spike – still yellow eyed – again jabbed his fingers towards his chest, then pointed at Lorne. Lungs heaving from the effort of drawing in enough air to form words, the vampire snarled “You. Call. Me. Spike. M’not food,” as tears coursed down his face, from both frustration and not a little pain.

Serendipitously, Gunn chose that moment to arrive with the vampire’s heated blood, and immediately noted the tension in the air and Spike’s tear streaked face.

“There a problem here guys? Something in particular set off the weepy?”

Abashed, Lorne took the first mug from Gunn’s grasp and held the straw out for Spike. “Just me sticking my size too big foot in my mouth. Sorry, Spike. Ask anyone – pet names are just so me. Wolfram & Hart is one big bakery where I’m concerned. Confections and endearments are just second nature to me, but I promise to try and remember to use your name, since it so obviously upsets you.”

His head never lifting from the straw, Spike nodded his acceptance. He drained the contents of the mug quickly, then turning to Gunn, rasped, “More, please,” and reached out for the remaining mug.

“You sure you can handle this yourself, Spike?” Gunn was dubious, but unwilling to refuse the rapidly healing vampire anything.

“Need to try.”

“You got it, dude. Don’t worry if it drops – there’s plenty more downstairs.”

Two shaking hands reached out and grasped the mug, its contents sloshing slightly, but not spilling over. Carefully grasping the straw between his lips, Spike managed to drain the second mug.

Lorne grabbed the mug before it fell from the exhausted vampire’s grasp.

“Can you talk for a bit, swe.. Spike? I know you’re pooped, and I’ll stop if you need to sleep, but I’d like some answers if you can.”

“Yeah. Try to.”

“What happened with my poor lamp? Was it sacrificed to get my attention?”

Spike managed a small smile at the demon’s mournful expression. “Yeah, sorry. Heard you two talk – party?” At Lorne’s incredulous expression, he added, “Vamp hearing,” pointing at his head.

“Eeeesh, that’s scary – no hiding things around you, then.” A twinkle in his eyes assured Spike of his good humor.

Gunn crossed his arms and thought before speaking. “You wanna know what’s the what regarding that party you know who had last night?”

Spike nodded.

“You ever heard of Buffy Summers?”

The vampire cocked his head, looking at the man as if he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his shiny forehead.

“Bloody hell... bastard never told you? Me an’ the Slayer – six years. Knowin’ an’ fighin’ – helpin’.”

Gunn was visibly upset. “Since the day you disappeared, Spike, he’s not mentioned your name. Told us you’d toddled off to find your good times elsewhere.”

Spike’s bravado faded at that last lie, the remnants of his strength deserted him and he seemed to vanish back into the pillows.

Gunn and Lorne exchanged glances. Something more going on here than met the eye, and they’d have to find out what. Lorne picked up the blanket from the foot of the bed, settling it over Spike’s body and tucking it around his shoulders.

“You need your sleep now, cru – Spike. Sorry, habit, as I might have mentioned. Before we leave you to your beauty rest – is there anything we can get for you?”

Looking up at him with unfocused eyes, already halfway asleep, Spike murmured a single word:

“Buffy.”



Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 10 – Come What May

“Welcome back, sweet thing. Did you really think I’d let something as accommodating as you go without a real fight? C’mon now – open up those eyes and remember who you belong to.”

Spike awoke in a panic, a guttural scream bursting forth from his very soul. He couldn’t move – he was held down and restrained! He struggled weakly, giving up as he slowly sank back towards the oblivion he’d occupied forever.

Lorne was near panicking, himself. He could feel Spike slipping away, as his muscles went lax within his arms. He’d yelled at and shaken the panicky vampire – anything to get Spike to focus on the here and now. Nothing helped. Instinct took over, and Lorne soothed him as one would a frightened infant. He pressed a kiss to Spike’s forehead. Another to his temple, all the while stroking his long green fingers gently through the vampire’s hair and along his neck and shoulders.

Spike moaned.

Just a little sound, half conscious and thready… but it went straight to the empath’s cock, settling into a slow tingle low down in his belly. Caught up in that sound and the moment, Lorne continued placing gentle kisses… on Spike’s cheekbones, eyelids, the tip of his nose, and ended with a soft glide against his lips.

Realization set in, and Lorne started to pull away, horrified at his own actions.

Spike’s arms snaked around the retreating man’s neck, holding him close – returning the gentle pressure with his own mouth, soft and steady – slowly opening to run the tip of his tongue against the seam of the other man’s lips.

One more closed mouth kiss, and Spike pulled away, whispering a heart-felt thank you against his lips.

Lorne was stunned – and deeply ashamed. He couldn’t look directly at Spike, and turned away, rubbing his hand over his face. “Look… don’t. Just – what the hell are you thanking me for? I took advantage of you, after all you’ve been through, and –”

“Oh pet, don’t go there.” Spike’s voice was weak, but steadier than before. “You gave me comfort. First I’ve had in… I can’t remember. What day is it? I don’t even know how long I was gone for.”

Unable to turn back and look the vampire in the eyes, Lorne murmured, “It’s the end of May, Spike.”

“Huh. Just a few weeks, then. Feels like longer.”

“May, 2005.” The empath stared at the floor, bracing for Spike’s reaction. He wasn’t disappointed, or surprised.

“Bloody hell. You tellin’ me I lost an entire year of my unlife? I’ll be fucked… oh. Oh!” He groaned, grabbing at his hair in distress. “It’s real then – what happened. Not just a nightmare?”

Lorne looked crestfallen. “Spike, I swear… if any of us had known – if we’d had an inkling of what had been done – of where you were…”

“Here, now, I told you to stop that.” Spike startled Lorne by shushing him with a gentle finger on his lips. “S’not your fault, mate. You trust who you trust, an’ you had a history with the bloody tosser. He’s got sides nobody but me an’ Dru ever saw, and you should be real grateful for that.

“Problem is, he was actin’ off, last I recall. More over the top-like than I can remember. Still a bit fuzzy on the particulars, an’ m’not in the mood to talk about it all if that’s all right with you?”

Lorne dared a careful look back at the vampire, feeling the hand of friendship that was bring extended. “So not a problem, my friend,” he said slowly. “Listen, if you’re up to it, what say we have a chat about other things over a nice mug of blood for you and a latte for me? I seem to remember you asking for someone before you fell asleep last night, and it bears discussing. I’ll just go and… uh… yeah.”

The empath beat a hasty retreat, clearly still rattled by what had happened. While he was gone, it took Spike a moment to recall just what Lorne was talking about.

Balls. And a fun time’s to be had by all.

Lorne returned with their respective drinks, along with a platter of assorted cookies. “I don’t suppose you…”

Grabbing a chocolate chip cookie, Spike dunked it into his mug of blood and bit into it with obvious relish. “S’pose I do at that, Lorne… is it? I love to eat, mate. ”

Lorne shook his head. “You’re not at all what I expected, Spike. From what I’ve seen, I’d say you’re pretty unique amongst vampires. Certainly have a hell of a will to survive.”

“Just bloody stubborn, pet. ~Might as well grab the bull by the bloody horns. ~If I’m to go out at someone’s hands, it’s going to be at the Slayer’s. That’s Buffy. We got enough history to have that as a promise. I need to go – she takes me out.”

Lorne blinked. “Whoa there, buckaroo. Are you telling me you want Buffy to come and kill you? After all this you’re just gonna lay down and die – dust?”

“Not hardly – dunno what the chit’s gonna do when she finds out I’m still unliving. Last she saw I was falling to dust in the bottom of Sunnyhell. Just need to give her the option. ‘Course, I’d rather she be happy to see me, but with her… you just never know how she’s gonna react. Amongst our lot, comin’ back from the dead’s not overly novel.”

Spike drained the last of his blood and placed the mug on the nightstand with a thunk. “As for the ‘unique amongst vampires’ bit you’ve pegged me with, I’d say rare, instead. After all, there are two souled vampires in the world, as much as I’d like to dust the bastard, myself.”

Lorne was shocked at what he’d just heard. “Okay – I think I need some explanations here. The information about the battle in Sunnydale was never clear-cut. Angel’s been very secretive about a lot of things from what I’m hearing, specifically your role in it all. Not to mention your relationship with Buffy, and he’s never said a word about you having a soul.”

As if he were trying to visibly hold himself together, Spike wrapped his arms around his body. “Don’t know how to make sense of it all, mate, but I’ll be simple as I can: Had some bad issues, went to Africa and survived the Trials, asked for my soul back. Buffy an’me? Mortal enemies, very reluctant allies, lots of twists in the middle and we ended up battlin’ the First together. Angel’s little trinket burned me from my soul out, wiping out the Uber Vamps and sucking down the town into the Hellmouth. Gone now, ‘cept for me being back and all.”

“Huh!” was all Lorne managed to say.

“So, my life’s a right mess here. What’s the chance of findin’ the Slayer for me, mate? Seem to recall some sort of party bein’ thrown for her?”

~Criminies – how to explain this without letting on about Angel and Buffy’s plans ~ “You’re in luck, kiddo. Turns out I’ve been asked to escort the little lady around town this Friday – two days from now. The boss is stuck at meetings all day, and doesn’t want the little lady to be bored. I do believe a meeting can be arranged.”

Spike ran his hand through his hair, a look of disgust gracing his features. “You think we can do something about this mop? Right now I’m bettin’ I’m real glad I don’t reflect. An’ clothes. Don’t know how I’m gonna…”

“Never you mind, Spike. I’ll arrange for one of my contacts to come in and fix you up any way you like, and I’ll provide a beginning wardrobe of your choice. You can always pay me back when you get back on your feet. I’m not hurting for moolah, believe me.”

The look on Spike’s face caused the empath to pause. “What’s the matter, kid? You look like you lost your best friend.”

“S’not really important,” he sighed. “It’s just…the one piece of clothing that ever meant anything to me is gone.”

Lorne grinned. This he could make better. “I’ll be back in a flash, Spike. I think I’ve got something to bring the smile back to that pretty face.”

When he returned moments later, the duster held out in front of him, he knew he’d done at least one thing right. Spike saw the beloved leather coat held out in the green hands that had comforted him, and Spike… Spike wept.

Healing tears.
   


Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 11 – Truth Will Out

By the time Friday rolled around, Spike was a nervous wreck. He’d bitten his fingernails down to the quick, and fidgeted so much that he’d pulled the sheets off the bed at least three times before his host had threatened to staple his ass to the mattress.

He was healing nicely on the surfeit of blood he had available. His body mass was at its peak, having been well fed on human blood for the first time in nearly a decade. The worst of his bruises had faded into blossoms of dull purples and olive greens. The wounds from his ~shudder ~ piercings had finally healed over into nothing more than angry pink scar tissue, and that too would fade away in time. Physically, at least.

His upper body strength had returned somewhat. Fine motor skills were good, and he could maneuver his body around on the bed, but his legs… another story entirely. Not paralyzed, thank whatever powers listened to the prayers of souled vampires, but they were unable to bear his weight due to the nerve damage he’d suffered from being bound, chained, and vamphandled for so long. Just a matter of time, he hoped.

His hair was freshly bleached and cut; he’d had a manicure (which he’d ruined) and even a pedicure. The little girl Lorne had called was worth her weight in gold for the care she took with him.

Best of all, Spike’s throat and vocal chords were almost completely healed, though the damage had left him with a slightly raw, husky quality to his voice Lorne swore to him was guaranteed to tie the undies of either gender into knots.

True to his word, Lorne had picked up some clothing for him – his archetypical black jeans and t-shirt, and a brand new pair of Docs – though he’d added his own unique flair via a silver studded black leather belt adorned with a hobnail silver buckle.

The only problem left with getting properly dressed was… well… Spike was still quite sore, and the harsh denim would rub unpleasantly in all the wrong places. Especially taking into consideration the lack of anything between the vampire and his jeans.

Lorne grinned as he brought in a fresh silk robe for his recumbent guest. “Sorry, cutie pie. Guess you’ll just have to entertain your Slayer in style. If she doesn’t want you, I might just make a serious play for you, myself. I think you look absolutely delicious in grey silk.”

Spike’s face wore an answering grin. “Nah, mate. As appealing as the offer is, I think I’ll see what the lady brings to the table. Won’t say no to a snog now and again, though. Nothing like a pair of demon lips to get a bloke’s motor runnin’.”

“Oh, go on, you rascal!” Lorne scolded, but not-so-secretly, he was charmed – and delighted with Spike’s progress. Four days. Four days was all it had taken for the luscious creature on his bed to change from a bloody bruise to sex incarnate. Four days to go from petrified to trusting to joking. And if he was hooked… Miss Buffy Summers didn’t stand a chance.

~*~

Buffy was a bit on edge. Her last few days with Angel had been – well – interesting. Moonlight walks that weren’t patrols and dinners in fine restaurants, though she was the only one who ate. Several long stretches during the day where Angel was involved with Wolfram & Hart business, and she was chauffeured to the beach via company limousine.

And then… there was sex. After so long, there was Angel-sex again.

Buffy slumped in her seat.

Yeah, she’d slept with him after that first night. It was soft, and sweet – reminiscent of their first time, without the spectacular soul losing results in the morning. Missionary position and over after one go-round, which left her… well… lacking. What with Angel’s vampire senses, she hadn’t dared to go to the shower and relieve herself. Being told you couldn’t satisfy your lover was not the way to start off on the road to happiness.

And that’s why she found herself in Wolfram & Hart’s lobby, wishing she could find something to tear apart limb from limb.

A tall, bright green demon with red horns resplendent in Ralph Lauren and silk, came into view, cheerily calling out her name.

Lorne extended his hand in greeting as he approached. “Hey there, cupcake, I’m Lorne – your host and chauffeur for the day. You must be the Buffy Summers I’ve heard so much about. Sorry I wasn’t at your little soiree the other night. Sick friend and all that.”

Buffy was amused. Only in Los Angeles would you be able to go out with the Jolly Green Devil, himself, and have people brush it off as a publicity stunt.

“Time to fly, my little chickadee – your chariot awaits.” Lorne extended his arm, linking elbows with his charge. “So, where do you want to head first – somewhere to eat or somewhere to shop?”

She smiled. “What self-respecting woman wouldn’t want to go shopping first?”

~*~

The car was a work of art – a true classic: a 1959 Cadillac Convertible, all gleaming chrome and white, with black and white leather interior.

Buffy was duly impressed. “Wow! Gorgeous car, Lorne. I’ve never really been around old classics before… just once, really.”

“Oh? Tell Uncle Lorne all about it, sugar… nothing like a classic automobile to show yourself off in.”

She sighed. “Well, it wasn’t in good shape, sorta banged up and battle scarred. But it was loved. It was an old black DeSoto. Meant everything to its owner. Called it his best girl.”

“Come on, chica – wipe that frown right off your pretty face. A couple of hours at the Beverly Center and you’ll forget whatever it is making you so sad.” Grinning, he waved one of the company credit cards in the air. “Especially since this trip is funded by the big guy, himself.”

The drive was pleasant, the company affable – nothing like a little girl talk about fashion and inane gossip about celebrities to ignore the traffic and eat up the miles to your destination. Lorne tuned the radio to an ‘all music, all the time’ station and let it play low in the background.

Buffy stared out her side of the car, lost in thought. It was a beautiful day, hardly any clouds in the sky, and she began to hum along with radio – the tune hauntingly familiar. By the end of the last stanza, she was singing the lyrics softly to herself:

The silence of a falling star
Lights up the purple sky.
And as I wonder where you are
I'm so lonesome I could cry.

Lorne almost drove the car off the road from the pain and sadness he felt pouring off the girl.

Buffy turned to Lorne, pout in full evidence. “Hey! I know I’m not all diva-ish, but I’m not so bad that you have to kill me to shut me up.”

“Sorry, kitten. Just got a bit distracted.” With a grin, the empath asked, “Do you mind if we have a slight change of plans? I forgot that there’s something I need to tend to at home. We can go out afterwards, if you’re up to it.”

“Not a problem for me. I’m all flexible-girl these days. No schedule, no job, no unattended little sister to rush home for. Take me away – I’m all yours.”

“Your wish is my command, cupcake. Let’s see if we can’t make all your dreams come true.”

~*~

Lorne ushered the petite blonde into his home. “Listen, crumpet – I’m going to be in the kitchen for a bit. Why don’t you take the nickel tour upstairs, and I’ll join you as soon as I can. Oh, and I’ve got a friend staying in one of the bedrooms – sorta bed-ridden at the moment. It’s part of why I wasn’t at your soiree the other night. He’s just dying to say hello to you. Pop on in and give the boy a thrill.”

Buffy frowned. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to disturb anyone. What if he’s sleeping?”

“Never you mind, missy. You walk on in and make with the greetings. I’d do anything for the kid. He’s had a really bad year.” He gently pushed her towards the stairs. “Now go, you! Spread some happiness and explore.”

God, awkward much? Practically stomping up the stairs, Buffy couldn’t imagine her day getting any weirder. First, she was shunted off to the Jolly Green Giant who’s apparently on ‘distract girlfriend with shopping’ duty, then he sent her upstairs to be on ‘boyfriend cheering’ detail.

Peering into a couple of empty rooms, Buffy quickly guessed which would be the occupied guestroom, and knocked gently on the door before cracking it open and slipping in. She walked over to the bed, trying not to disturb the sleeping man. Her internal diatribe continued unabated. What was she supposed to say to this guy? “Hello, sorry to wake you up, but Lorne told me to barge on in ‘cause you wanted to meet…”

She froze, eyes glued to the bed. Her mind refused to process what she saw, pinning her in place – unable to move forward or back; unable fall down.

He looked like Sleeping Beauty – if Sleeping Beauty were a hot, gorgeous guy with bedhair in a grey silk robe, reclining against a mountain of magenta pillows. Pale skin, long pretty lashes curling over impossibly sharp cheekbones, full pouty lips... everything that she remembered paled next to the reality of what she saw before her.

~It can’t be ~ He was dead… dusted, her mind screamed. Vanished practically before her very eyes. He’d refuted her long sought after confession as he forced her to leave him there, in unspeakable pain, trying to do the right thing for the world – and her.

Buffy felt two strong hands on her shoulders and in her ear, Lorne whispered, “Go to him, kitten. Be gentle, though. He’s not as strong as he seems.” With a swat to her rear, he pushed her forward. “Standing here ain’t gonna break the spell.”

Her paralysis broken, Buffy made her way to the bed, unable to believe that Spike ~Spike! would let anyone ~her ~ so close, leaving himself vulnerable… open to attack and probable death – without awakening.

Buffy’s anger got the better of her. “You bastard!” she whispered. “All this time I’ve mourned your passing, honored your sacrifice and tried to move on with my life and you’ve been lying here on your ass in the fucking lap of luxury, dressed in silk?”

She leaned over the bed, ready to shake the sleeping vampire until his teeth rattled for keeping her in the dark, when he shifted slightly. His robe gaped open at the neck, revealing the last of the bruises and cuts that decorated his pale chest.

A small cry escaped her lips and she sat down heavily on the bed. “What happened to you, Spike?” she murmured, ghosting her hands over his marred chest. “Who could have marked you this fucking badly?” Her eyes closed, and tears fell silently down her cheeks.

Then, without a sound to warn her – the touch of another. Buffy gasped at the feel of Spike’s cool hands covering her own. She opened her eyes to the glorious sight of the vampire’s unabashed adoration.

“You’re here,” he rasped, his voice husky and raw, laced with overwhelming emotion and the last of the damage.

“Here,” she whispered – before she realized that she was livid, and tried to snatch her hands away. “Where the hell else would I be, you idiot! How long have you been back? When did you get hurt? Why the fuck wasn’t I told about this?”

Buffy turned to the door where the empath was unobtrusively lurking. “Hey, green boy! I think you’ve got some heavy duty ‘splainin’ to do. How long has Spike been here? And why haven’t you told Angel?”

Shit!

Spike’s grip tightened on her hands. “What makes you think he doesn’t know, pet?”  

Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 12 – Bloody Minded

“What makes you think he doesn’t know, pet?”

Spike’s quiet words burned into her brain. They filled her mind, screaming accusations even as she tried to silence them.

Buffy’s eyes widened with disbelief. “No! There’s no way he could know about you, Spike. All this time – the whole freaking year that we’ve been in touch – he knew how heartbroken Dawnie and I were after Sunnydale. How we mourned our losses. You and Anya… all those Potentials… we even held a memorial service. He was all supporto-vamp.”

She looked to Lorne, pleading with him to refute Spike’s words. “We were… we were going to try and work things out between us. You know that! He wouldn’t – not to me! ”

Lorne shook his head sadly. “Sorry, cupcake. It’s true – all of it. And more. Our little Spike’s been here with me for only the past four days – but he’s been back from the beyond since early last June.”

Buffy couldn’t begin to process the empath’s statement. “No, no, no,” she whispered, over and over, shaking her head.

Spike tried to get the hysterical girl’s attention, hoping a little humor would ease the way. “Look, just ‘cause the green bloke makes Tinkerbell look butch, doesn’t mean he’s lying, pet.”

“Buffy,” Lorne said, “I get that you don’t know me from Adam, and I know you’ve got to be in shock. You’ve been hit with a surprise that was guaranteed to knock your Manolo Blahnick’s off. Add the nasty reveal bit and I can understand it knocking you for a loop. But don’t you think you should talk to your guy – find out what he’s been through? We can talk about the other problemas later.”

“Oh God, Spike.” she whimpered, looking deep into the vampire’s pain filled eyes. Buffy knew that she’d hurt him, deeply – several times over.

“Luv, you don’t owe me anything,” he gentled. “No explanations for going back to the poof. S’your life, to live as you see fit.” Spike lifted her chin, gently forcing her to maintain eye contact. “S’what I died to give you – the life you wanted.”

The sobbing blonde wrapped her arms gently around the vampire’s neck, slowly so as not to hurt him; settling her head in the crook of his neck. This, ~this ~ was what she’d been missing. Buffy knew she was being selfish – Spike was the one who needed her comfort, after all – but the sheer rightness she felt stilled her for just a moment longer.

“I think you lost track of what I really wanted, Spike,” she murmured into his neck. Buffy raised her head, releasing the vampire from her soggy embrace. “Those last days we spent together were so damned intense. You saved my life, saved my sanity and… and… allowed us all to survive.”

Buffy reached out, stroking a tear stained cheekbone, as Spike leaned into her touch. “When I told you that I loved you, I meant it. Every. Single. Word.”

Sensing a protest forming once again, Buffy leaned in, silencing him with a soft kiss to his mouth. Just a delicate pressing of lips, but oh, so rife with possibilities. Gathering her resolve, Buffy was determined to continue – getting this out in the open once and for all.

“I did love you then. With every fiber of my being. Loved you for who you were, and who you’d become. Loved the fact that it was for me.” She nodded, smiling up at him. “Yup! Selfish enough to finally admit that. I know you changed for me – in the beginning.

“The man I left to die was on his own path. How could I not love you?”

Lorne’s heart ached for them both. The opportunities they’d missed, the chances they had ahead of them… and the niggling feeling that he, himself had lost a very promising possibility. Unable to stand the intensity of the emotions pouring off the couple, he slipped out of the room, unnoticed.

Spike was completely and utterly gobsmacked. Who was this girl, and what had she done with Buffy? The sincerity shining from her beautiful hazel eyes could not be denied. But still, he knew there were things left unspoken. For a change, he would let her continue at her own pace – they had time.

Buffy gathered the stunned vampire’s hands in her own, placing small kisses on his fingertips. She struggled momentarily – the words were difficult to admit to herself, much less the man in front of her.

“The question hasn’t been if I love you for a long time; it’s how I love you. when you came back, Spike – when I’d found you in the basement… I was scared. I’d had to face some damned ugly truths about both of us over that summer, and could barely look at myself in the mirror.”

“Buffy, don’t,” Spike pleaded, unable to keep silent any longer. “Don’t go there again. It’s over – we’ve long made our peace.”

She nodded. “Yes, we did – by letting it go. I never told you how sorry I was over how badly I handled the whole soul revelation thingy. It was overwhelming, to say the least. But it moved me. It colored everything I did in one way or another. You finally became a priority to me, usually over everyone else’s objections.

“You believed in me, pet. You rescued me body and soul. S’not something to be forgotten.” He was wary, still unsure as to the direction of her revelations, unwilling to expose more of himself than he already had.

Buffy sighed. “We never had a chance, Spike. To make up for all the hurt we’d caused each other. The time just wasn’t there. I swear, apocalypses have a personal grudge against me and my love life. When you died… the last time, anyway – the only time it mattered to me – I knew I’d lost my chance to ever make things right with you.

“I threw myself into the social circuit with a vengeance. I dated, and had a rather active… um.. “

Spike smiled, taking pity on her. “You screwed around like a kitten in heat?”

Wham, bam, no thinking involved here. “You’re a pig, Spike! Say something else,” she begged.

“You fucked half of Europe and found nobody who could compare to yours truly?” Oh yeah, he was pushing his luck now.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you – missed this! More, Spike. Come on, give it to me good!” she laughed.

“Decided you’d spread your dimpled knees for one too many tossers, and came back to give the King of Celibacy another go?”

shit

Okay, that one wasn’t quite so funny. Buffy sobered up quickly, looking a bit forlorn.

“Sorry, pet… you know I’m a bad, rude man.” Never had he wanted to take back words so badly.

She folded her arms round herself, shrinking into a small bundle of misery. “No, Spike… you were all too accurate, as usual. It’s exactly what I did. Gave myself away hoping to give away the misery and loneliness, too.

“I was grasping at straws with Angel. I loved him with all that I was – when I was sixteen years old. I held everyone to that standard and they all failed, miserably. I shoved him in your face more often than my fist.”

Spike sighed. “Not arguing with you there, luv. At least the pain from your pummeling went away quick enough.”

“You were gone, Spike. No way to make things better. No way to heal and explore possibilities. Normal and me? Still unmixy things, so I decided to try and rekindle things with Angel. Familiar territory, you know? He loved me. I knew it. How hard would it be to learn to love him back again?”

“Ah, the whole party thingie, right? All Queen for a Day presentation to the masses?”

“Oh yeah,” she confirmed. “And I ended up feeling like a prize show dog.”

“It’s what he knows, Buffy. Darla used to parade him up and down like a prize bull. Sort of a ‘see what I’ve got, and you don’t’ deal.”

She sniffled, rubbing the backs of her hands against her eyes. Spike thought she looked about eight years old, and he was enchanted.

“It was so clear in my mind, Spike. I even had conversations with you about it, in my head.”

Spike was amused at this revelation. “And what did I in my infinite wisdom tell you?”

Buffy snickered. “Actually, you called him a ‘git’ and told me not to let him push me around.” On a more sober note, she admitted, “And you also told me you loved me at my best and worst, and wouldn’t judge what I chose to do. Gods, I missed you so much. You know, those times we actually talked?”

He nodded. There really wasn’t anything to add. He’d missed all of her. Talking to her, screwing her, any way she’d let him into her life. It’s just that he’d always wished for more.

“This isn’t quite the time for it, I think,” Buffy said, “but when you’re feeling better I’d like to try and figure out where we stand with each other. If there is a we to talk about. You game for that?”

Spike smiled. “Yeah, pet. I think I’d like to talk about us. Sounds bloody wonderful, since you’re askin’.”

“Great. Now we really do need to talk about what’s happened to you, Spike. As much as you’re willing to tell me. I can’t go on until I know the truth. Do you want me to go get Lorne? It’s likely he knows more about what happened to you recently than you do.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea, pet. An’ if you could bring up a couple mugs of blood I’d really ‘preciate it. All this talk’s made me a might peckish, an’ my throat’s a bit sore.”

Before Buffy had a chance to get off the bed, Lorne appeared at the door with a large serving tray.

“Had a feeling it was time for my spotlight number. Also? Yummies for all.” He handed Buffy a mug of steaming hot coffee. “I assumed you were a caffeine addict, like me. Spike? First of several O Pos mugs for you. And for the storyteller in all of us?” He uncovered the treat in the middle of the tray.

Simultaneous cries of “Cheesecake!” rang out from the bed.

Forgive me for being so bold, kiddies, but I’m gonna be all mother-hen here and begin the tall tale. Spike’s throat was rather damaged, and I think he could use a rest. There’s only a small part he’ll be able to fill you in on, anyway.”

“Have at it, mate. I’d rather wrap my mouth around this cheesecake, anyway.” Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head at the delicious sensation of the cool, smooth cheesecake sliding down his aching throat, followed by a swallow or two of blood. “Best damn thing I’ve… never mind. Go ahead, Lorne.”

The empath settled into his chair. “Okay, boys and girls. The tale starts the third week in May, 2004. Angel had called a meeting of the department heads. That meant the CEO himself, Charles Gunn, Winifred Burkle, Wesley Windham-Pryce – and me. Harmony was in and out of the office – playing secretary; delivering the mail.

“Angel was going on about how much good we’d be able to do, even while working from within the evil law firm. He was toying with a small manila envelope, tossing it from hand to hand after ripping off a strip at the top, when a certain amulet dropped onto the floor. Before he could pick it up, it began to glow and spark, and before we knew it… Blondie over here popped out in the leather covered flesh.”

Buffy was stunned. “You’re telling me all of three weeks after I nearly watched you disintegrate, you show up in Angel’s office all undead and pretty? And nobody thought to tell me?”

“Now, luv,” Spike defended, “you have to understand. I asked – first thing. About you an’ Niblet and the rest of the Scoobies an’ bitty slayers. The plonker said you were all fine, traipsing about Europe and unreachable.”

“Fine,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “So he lied to you. I missed seeing you by one fucking week. And he continued lying to me ever since by omission. Please… do go on.”

Spike hesitated. “It was all so bloody stupid. Like a schoolyard bully, he was. All I wanted was a place in this world. I figured he owed me. Wouldn’t tell me where you were, wouldn’t give me a handout to leave. Yeah, I busted his balls about things. S’what we do, or did, anyway – family, you know?”

Lorne became concerned when the vampire hadn’t spoken for a couple of minutes. “Are you okay to continue, my friend? You’re lookin’ a mite pale, even for you.”

“Yeah, mate. S’rough, though. You got that framed piece of shite nearby? Girl’s not gonna believe me tellin’ it. I still don’t believe it.”

Buffy wrapped her arms around the shaking vampire and took in a deep breath. She had a feeling that the rest of this was going to be bad. So very, very bad.

Spike gathered up his nerve, and launched into the remainder of his story. “The second day was bad, luv. We were going at each other like a prize pair of idiots, punchin’ an’ pushin,’ callin’ each other names. Him tellin’ me I was a useless piece of crap, always was an’ always would be. That you’d told him you were right glad I was dust in the wind and out of your hair. I told him he was nothing but a jealous bugger. Real mature-like.

“Then it was all over. He just stood there, all calm an’ quiet. I twigged it was all over. We’d shouted out the shit again, until the next time. Next thing I knew, he’d shot me. Three times in the back with a tranq gun.”

A wave of greater horror rolled off the Slayer, enough to worry Lorne. “Buffy, honey? Are you all right?”

“The rest… tell me the rest before I throw up. I don’t want to do this more than once.” She shook with the impact of what she’d just heard.

Lorne handed her the framed Sire’s Rights document. She read it, then looked from Lorne to Spike, and back to the frame in her hands.

Quiet and deadly, and one hundred percent Slayer, she turned to Spike. “Are you telling me that bastard sold you like an unwanted pet?”

“More like an unwanted son. Into a demon slavery and prostitution ring,” he whispered, eyes dropped, unable to look her in the face.

Buffy nodded. Very, very calmly. Then: “I’ll kill him,” she growled, grabbed her purse and slammed out of the room.