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*hugs* to Megan and Sue for betaing.

Thank you to: Twilightchild, nightshift, vladt, Esther, DreamsofSpike, Verda, Kim, Lou and Elizabeth Anne Summers for the lovely reviews!

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Chapter 8: Misconception


Spike woke several hours later, his head pounding with the after-effects of alcohol overindulgence. It was not pretty. He groaned, the sound resonating throughout his head. He attempted to cradle his aching cranium in his hands only to find he couldn’t move them. The frown that crossed his brow was quickly chased away by more throbbing.

He forced his eyes to open a crack, blinking a couple of times to restore focus. The blur slowly sharpened until he identified he was in a bathroom. One he didn’t recognise. Looking down at his arms he spied the reason for his immobilisation. He was tied up. His arms were secured in front of him with a thick rope. It was wrapped around his wrists several times and knotted tightly, and then ran the length of his body to his ankles, which had received similar treatment. He tried to remember the last thing that had happened before he appeared in this foreign bathroom but it wasn’t coming to him. His memory was fuzzy.

Whoever had tied him up didn’t want him escaping. And for the life—or unlife—of him Spike could figure out who would want to immobilise him in such a manner. He had no debts in LA, and as far as he knew there was no-one inside city limits who had a grudge with him. His predicament was completely unexpected and unexplainable, thanks to his incomplete memories of the night before.

Spike looked around the bathroom, taking in his surroundings in the hope he could the figure out the identity—or at least gender—of his captor. An array of shampoos, bath oils and body lotions lined the edge of the tub. A pink fluffy towel hung off the towel rack. A satin nightdress hung from a hook on the back of the door. Whoever lived here was female. The bathroom itself was pretty clean, so that ruled out Chaos demons and a few similar goo-dripping species of demon, but didn’t narrow the field by much.

Leaning back in the tub a little too quickly, he cracked his head against the bath, a string of curse words colouring his speech.

“Sodding hell! Why the fuck am I tied up in some bathroom? How’d I bleedin’ get ‘ere in the first place?”

The questions were obviously rhetorical as there was no one aside for himself in the bathroom, but he felt better for asking. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t figure it out. He remembered the bar hopping, remembered drinking far more than he ought to have, but after that… not much else. The slayer’s face rose in his mind’s eye but he couldn’t be sure he’d actually seen her, if it were from their earlier confrontation, or if he had just been dreaming about her again. It happened more than he’d like to admit.

“Where am I?” he mumbled, trying to suss it out.

A squeak of bedsprings sounded on the other side of the wall and Spike froze. There was someone in the next room.

“Obviously, you git, you didn’t magic yourself into a bathroom.”

Hang on a second, he thought before pushing the absurd idea away. Spike hated magic, there was always unfortunate consequences. Even if he was that drunk—and God knows he definitely had been—he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to have a spell cast on himself. Which meant that whoever was in the next room was responsible for his current predicament.

Closing his eyes he stretched out his senses. First thing he noticed was a heartbeat. Obviously his captor was human.

“That’s a bloody embarrassment,” he muttered.

Seconds after he registered the human status of the occupant in the next room, the identity of said person was thrown in his face when he sniffed the air. He felt marginally better knowing the slayer had taken him down, as opposed to a mere mortal.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate in the hope it would restore his missing memories. A few flashes appeared but it was just pieces. A hurt expression here, a few spiteful comments there. But the memory was full of holes. With a sigh of defeat he slumped against the bathtub again.

Judging by the steady thrum of her heartbeat the slayer was asleep, and it would be some time before she woke. For a second he contemplated allowing her to continuing sleeping. But when it occurred to him it would mean remaining cramped in the bathtub until she woke, he had second thoughts.

“Slayer,” he yelled.

Nothing.

He slid further into the tub, allowing his feet to stretch further and thumped his boot against the foot. He cursed the ricochet effect it had on his throbbing head but otherwise was satisfied with the noise. It was loud.

Still nothing.

“Jeez, Slayer, you sleep like the dead,” he quipped loudly. “And I’d know.”

The noise must have gotten to her because he heard her heartbeat jolt briefly.

Spike struck out with his feet again, this time knocking the wall and the bath oils and shampoos resting on a ledge next to the bath. They hit the floor with thud, rattling as they scattered across the tiled floor.

This time she woke.

~*~*~

Buffy sat up in bed with a jolt, startled by a loud noise.

“What on earth…” she murmured, still half asleep.

“Wakey, wakey, Slayer, there’s a hungry vamp in here itching for a feed.”

Buffy groaned. She’d completely forgotten about her noisy… houseguest.

Apparently her neighbours were not so oblivious to his presence.

A knock sounded on her apartment door.

“Just a minute,” she called, reaching for a pair of sweats and slipping them on quickly. Checking that her singlet offered enough coverage, she made her way to the door and opened it a crack. “Hello?”

“Uh, hi.” The person on the other side of the door was a young man, approximately the same age as Buffy. “Is everything alright? I heard a thump. Thin walls, you know?” he said with a tap against the door frame.

“Right, yeah. Everything’s fine, honestly,” Buffy assured with a confident nod. “It’s silly really, I fell out of bed.”

“You’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Buffy assured.

“Oh, okay.” The young man smiled, satisfied with her reply. “My name’s Brian, I live across the hall.”

“Anne.”

~*~*~

What’s this now…? Anne?

Spike smirked. The door was open a crack, and with his vampiric hearing he could follow the conversation quite clearly—not that the paper-thin walls offered much privacy in the first place. The fact the slayer was using a pseudonym shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, the chit had up and left her hometown. And judging by the way she was living, it was not by choice. A different name meant a lot of things, but first and foremost that she wanted to remain unnoticed.

“Would you like to maybe get some coffee this afternoon?”

The boy was flirting with her! Spike growled possessively.

No one touches her but me…

“What was that?”

“What was what? I didn’t hear anything.”

Oh, so she’s going to play it that way is she? We’ll see… Spike chuckled to himself.

“Kitten, get your gorgeous behind back to bed so we can finish what we started.”

That should do the trick!

~*~*~

Buffy’s eyes widened impossibly. Spike did not just say what she thought he said, did he? Buffy saw how Brian’s eyes took in her appearance and realised she didn’t paint a good picture. Her hair was messed from sleep and her clothes were rumpled.

“Uh, sorry. Didn’t realise you had, ah… you had someone in there,” Brian stammered.

“It’s not what you think, really,” Buffy explained. At Brian’s expectant look she opened her mouth to continue, but then realised there was no real way to explain this situation with any possible normal outcome. “He’s…”

“I’m waitin’,” Spike called again.

Buffy could hear the grin in his voice and it infuriated her. “Alright already,” she snapped over her shoulder.

“I’ll just be… going, now,” Brain excused, before turning and walking away quickly.

Buffy stood at the open door, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm her anger. She’d saved Spike from a sunrise dusty ending because it wouldn’t be right. Going into the bathroom now and staking him would kind of defeat the purpose of her effort.

“Is the poofter gone yet, love?”

“I’m not your love!” Buffy snapped back, slamming the front door closed and making her way across to the bathroom. It burst the whole way open with similar force, causing the sole framed picture she’d hung in the apartment to drop from its hook. The glass shattered on the floor but Buffy didn’t care, her entire attention was focussed on the vampire sitting in her bath. He was smirking that exasperating smirk and she just wanted to slap it from his face.

“What is your problem?” she demanded.

“My problem?” Spike questioned, brow arched.

“Why do you have to be so god damned infuriating?”

“Getting a little hot under the collar, pet?”

“No!” Buffy snapped.

Spike chuckled. “That’s not the picture you’re painting from where I’m sittin’.”

“Painting…” It took a moment for her to decode what he was saying, her sleep deprived brain a little slow on the up take. “Spike, just leave me alone.”

“I would, love,” he drawled, emphasising the pet name she had an apparent dislike for. “If it were possible. But you see I’m in a bit of a bind at the moment. It seems someone deemed it necessary to tie me up in their bathroom.”

It was as if that knowledge had escaped her until he pointed it out.

“Oh.”

“If you wanted me around so badly, love, all you had to do was ask.” His tone was teasing, and he knew it would piss her off. He curled his tongue behind the back of his teeth arrogantly.

“You wish,” she spat back.

“Yeah, ‘cos being tied up in the Slayer’s bathroom is every vamp’s fantasy.” Spike rolled his eyes. Buffy was silent for a long time, and Spike could pinpoint the exact moment the fight died in her.

“Just keep quiet until sunset and I’ll let you go then.”

“And if I don’t?”

Buffy muttered beneath her breath. He couldn’t just let it be, could he? “I knew I should’ve left you out there.”

“Out where?” Spike asked curiously.

She blinked, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Um, what?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “You said ‘knew you should’ve left me out there,’ wherever there is,” he indicated with a roll of his hands in the general vicinity of outside.

Buffy scrunched her brows together.

“Outside. This morning.” She got nothing, Spike was still looking at her with that questioning look on his face. “When I knocked you out…”

“You knocked me out?” He frowned. “Don’t rem’ber. But it does explain why my head hurts.”

“No, that’d be from hitting the ground or from being dragged all the way here. We’re on the second storey, lots of stairs.” She grinned to herself, a small giggle passing her lips. The whole way home she’d bitched to Spike—who’d remained unconscious the entire time—about how he always managed to mess up her life. And the more she talked the angrier she became. Resolved not to leave him out on the sidewalk to meet his dusty fate she’d instead taken pleasure in the little thump noises as he hit each and every step on the way up to her apartment. It had been very satisfying.

“You what?! You’ve got to be kiddin’ me!”

Buffy’s mirth grew at Spike’s reaction. She couldn’t help it, it was just too funny. “I thought for sure you’d wake up, but you didn’t.”

“Why you nasty—”

“I could have just left you there,” Buffy interrupted, a frown chasing away her laughter. “Maybe I should have, at least then I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Realisation hit Spike with the force of a Mack truck. Despite her ill treatment in bringing him into her apartment, she’d still brought him inside and out of harm’s way. She didn’t have to do that.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that, Slayer?”

Buffy blinked in surprise, not expecting that response. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I think.”

She was dead on her feet, swaying slightly from side to side and Spike could see how hard she was trying to fight off a yawn. After her little revelation he was feeling generous.

“Go on, love, get some kip. I’ll be quiet.”

Incredulity washed over her face. “Come on, I’m not stupid, Spike.”

“I mean it,” he replied soberly. “You did a right generous thing in bringin’ me in out of the rays, and I appreciate it. You rest and I’ll try my hardest to keep my mouth shut.”

Buffy searched his eyes for the lie but saw nothing but gratitude shining back at her. She may not be the best at reading people but Spike had always been an open book. His words and actions were truthful, and had she not been so exhausted it likely would have disturbed her.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Spike nodded.

“Thank you,” she offered quietly.

“Don’t be gettin’ all bashful on me now, Slayer. Last thing I want is you swooning at m’ feet.”

“As if,” Buffy shot back.

“There’s m’ girl.”

For once, Buffy let the comment slide.

“This truce is just temporary, you realise.”

“I know,” he nodded.

Buffy nodded as well, a thoughtful expression crossing her face before she continued. “Give me a couple hours and then I’ll see about going to the butchers, maybe I could pick you up some pigs blood or something.”

Never mind the fact he’d never touch that swill, Spike was touched by her offer. It was unexpected and… uplifting. So he just nodded.

“But only if you promise there’ll be no snacking on any of my neighbours,” she amended with mock seriousness. It wasn’t like he could do anything of real harm from where he was, tied in her bathtub.

As if to confirm her thoughts, he waved his bound wrists slightly. “Sure thing,” he replied with a smirk. “But all bets are off where,” he continued in a sing-song voice, “Brian… is concerned.”

With a roll of her eyes, Buffy walked out of the bathroom.

Without closing the door.

Inside of five minutes she was fast asleep, the sound of her heavy breathing making its way to Spike’s ears. He didn’t know whether the open door was by accident or because she didn’t feel threatened by him, but either way Spike liked it.

Now he just had to keep his promise about being silent until she woke.

Of course his leg chose that precise moment to cramp up.

“Bollocks.”

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

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