FIC: In Your Hands (2/2)
TITLE: In Your Hands
AUTHOR: Cindy
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: through AtS "Damage"
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Spike/Buffy, Spike-Dawn friendship
DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play with them.
SUMMARY: After she learns that Spike has been hurt by Dana, Buffy decides that she's the best one to take care of him. But it's more than Spike's hands that need healing.
A/N: This was written for kcarolj65 in the Welcome Back To The Hellmouth Ficathon Her specific requests will be listed at the end of the fic. This is part two of two. Thanks to kellyhk for the super fast beta.
Part one is here.
The cab driver was a big, burly guy who looked more like he belonged on the streets of New York City than the beaches of southern California. He was right on time though, a little early even, and reassured Buffy that they had plenty of time to get to the airport. Then he leaned up against the side of the cab and stuck the stub of a cigar into the corner of his mouth.
“Gonna be a hot one,” he said to Buffy.
“You think so?” She squinted up at the cloudless sky. The cottage didn't have air conditioning, and she was a little worried about Spike. Vampires might not mind extreme temperatures as much as humans, but they were not completely immune to the effects, either. You wouldn't think vampires would sweat, for instance, but Spike did sometimes. The memory of one particularly hot night came crashing back to her in vivid sensory detail. They had unexpectedly run into a large nest of vamps in an abandoned building downtown, more than the two of them would usually take on alone. Spike had tossed his coat aside midway through, and when it was finished, she had looked over at him, drenched and panting, and promptly dragged him behind the building. She remembered how the damp cotton of his shirt clung to his sculpted chest. How she couldn't wait to peel it off him, tasting the salt of his skin as she licked her way down his...
"Buffy? Hello? Earth to Buffy." Dawn was giving her the I-can't-believe-you're-my-sister look. She shook her head. "Weirdo."
The cabbie was also staring at her, and in a not good way. “Hot," he said, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "Record breaker.”
Oh, great. Buffy ignored them both and put on her sunglasses.
"I called Adrianna,” she told Dawn, brilliantly changing the subject. “She'll meet you at the airport, and stay with you until I get home." Adrianna was one of the new watchers, and she lived close to them in Rome.
Dawn nodded. "Cool."
Buffy wrote out a check and handed it to the cabdriver, then picked up Dawn's bag and tossed it over her shoulder.
"Can I take that for you, Miss?"
"Sure," she said, handing it over to him. He lunged forward from the weight of the bag, nearly dropping it before recovering and lugging it toward the car. Buffy grinned. “Sorry.” Dawn had gone shopping yesterday for "souvenirs", and was apparently taking half the mall back with her. With effort, he threw it into the trunk, then gave Buffy an appraising look, which she pretended not to notice.
"I guess you'd better get going. Call me when you get there.” But Dawn was not getting in the car. Buffy sighed. “What now?”
"Come on, stop sulking already. Remember how you never even wanted me to come in the first place? Besides, I'm leaving you alone in a romantic beach cottage with a hot guy. Most big sisters would be grateful."
"It's not exactly a vacation - he's injured. I mean, he can't even use his hands."
"What would he need to use his hands for, hmmm?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Dawn..." Buffy made her voice as intimidating as possible, though intimidation was hard to pull off when you were blushing furiously.
"Well, look at the bright side; at least you won't have to work too hard to get him into bed."
"Dawn!" The cab driver coughed, and Buffy shot him a look that sent him scrambling back behind the wheel.
"Kidding! Geez. I mean, that was a PG13 rated joke, at most. Hey, are you okay?"
“It’s not you. It’s just...Dawn, he didn’t even tell me he was back. He even swore Andrew to secrecy. Which he should have known was number one on the big list of bad ideas, but still...“
“He must have a good reason.”
“Like what, Pollyanna?”
"I don’t know. He was all tight lippy about it. But you should talk to Spike. You always said there were things you wish you could've said to him.” She put her arms around Buffy. “Now's your chance."
Buffy hugged her tightly, then pushed her playfully toward the car. “Stop being the mature one, would you? It's annoying in the extreme." Though she was smiling, Buffy was glad Dawn couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark glasses.
Dawn folded her long legs into the backseat while Buffy shut the door. As the cab pulled away from the curb, Dawn turned to wave at her through the back window. Buffy watched them drive away, the car getting smaller and smaller in the distance until it finally disappeared entirely.
Buffy glanced back at the house. So. A good reason. She'd been over it a million times in her head, of course. Why he'd stayed in L.A., with Angel of all people, instead of coming to her. At first, she was afraid he'd been traumatized, the way she’d been when she came back - or worse, like Angel. In fact, that's the first thing she'd asked Angel, but he said no, that Spike's essence had been trapped in the amulet, and he apparently had no recollection of his time there.
Then she wondered if he'd fallen for someone else. She remembered the way Fred had touched him so gently, and looked at him with such caring eyes. But as soon as Buffy had expressed this fear to Dawn, she'd immediately gone on a reconnaissance mission and reported back that no, Fred and Spike were just friends. The only other thing he’d said to Dawn about why he hadn’t contacted them was that it was “hard to explain.”
After hearing that, there was only one conclusion she could come to. It was her. It must be. He just didn’t feel the same about her. Something had changed between there and here, and he wasn’t in love with her anymore. She’d pushed him away for so long that he’d finally just stayed away. She shouldn’t be surprised. But what could she do? He hadn’t believed her when she’d told him she loved him before. Why would he believe it now?
Even so, Dawn was right. After he was gone, there were so many things she'd wished she would have said to Spike. And now she actually had the opportunity to say them.
She just wasn't sure if he wanted to hear them anymore.
***
They said everyone had a personal hell and Spike now had an idea of what his would consist of. First, he'd be confined to bed. Alone. In a sweltering California cottage with no a/c. In a tiny bedroom decorated in sodding English country. Add a nineteen inch telly - without cable - and that'd be a good start. Oh, and don't forget to make sure that his hands throb and ache, especially when he attempt to move them, which he can't do enough to feed himself. Or even scratch his own balls, for that matter.
God, he was going bloody insane.
But then, there was Buffy.
While he was working with Angel, he had nearly convinced himself that it wasn't so bad. He didn't miss her that much. He was doing fine without her. But now, just being near her, being able to see her and hear her, made him realize how bloody much he still cared.
She flitted around the house like a beautiful butterfly, never alighting in one place for too long. He couldn't help but be amused by her fussing, setting up a fan to blow just so across his body, fetching cool drinks and distracting him from the pain and boredom with his favorite movies on the DVD player. It touched him, her concern for him, but he knew a big part of it was avoidance. The busier she made herself, the less she'd have to actually talk to him. Or endure the awkward silences, of which they'd already had their share. Bit of a challenge, talking around that large elephant in the room.
Not that he blamed her. It was all on him, really. He was the one who'd stayed away. Who'd hid in L.A. and never let her know he was back. Matter of fact, he was a bit surprised that she hadn't demanded an explanation, but instead she was tiptoeing around the subject as much as he was. He supposed she was waiting until he was better to do that, but honestly he didn't think he could stand it that long. Maybe it was better to clear the air and be done with it. He had no idea of what he would say, but he figured he'd take his usual tack. He'd just start talking and something would come to him. Time to stop being a bloody coward.
"Buffy?"
"Just a sec!" She was coming down the hallway, carrying a bowl. When she entered the room, he could see it was a basin of soapy water with a pink sponge floating on top, and a fluffy white towel was folded over her arm. An image of Buffy in white stockings with a seam running up the back inconveniently took up residence in his head. He shifted his legs on the bed to hide the evidence.
"Spike?"
"Yeah?"
"You wanted me?" Her face flushed prettily when she realized what she had said. "I mean...you called for me?"
"Oh. So I did." It was amazing how little it took for all rational thought to leave his brain.
She set the basin down on the nightstand and pulled a desk chair up to the side of the bed. "And?"
"And...what are you doin' with that?" Brilliant change of subject, mate.
"I have to change your bandages. The doctor was going come today to do it, but he got called out on an emergency. Some Gridiron demon having triplets or something."
Spike smiled. "Gra'dron demon. Cave dwellers. Peaceful, for the most part."
"Good to know. So anyway, I figured I could do it. I'm an expert bandage changerer by this point, don't you think?"
"No doubt." He'd seen her bandage and re-bandage dozens of injuries, but right now she looked pretty nervous about the prospect.
“Okay, let’s take this off,” she said, easing his arms out of the blue pajama top. “We don’t want to stain your pretty blouse.”
“Watch it, missy!” he grumbled. “Wasn’t my idea. ‘Sides, little sis says it matches my eyes.”
She opened up the night stand drawer to get some supplies, giving him a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Well, she‘s right.”
Before he had time to contemplate that comment, she was retrieving some very sharp scissors, along with bandages and tape, from the drawer. Chewing on her lower lip, she set all but the scissors aside, turned his arm over gently, and placed the towel underneath. Starting at the wrist, she carefully cut through the bandages and tape that nearly reached his elbow until she was able to pull them away from his skin and toss them into the waste basket next to her. They were slightly stained with blood near the reattachment site, but not badly. Spike looked down to where a neat line of black stitches encircled his arm.
"Wonder if that'll leave a scar?"
When she didn’t answer, he looked up to find her staring down at his arm, face stricken.
"Oh, Spike."
"Gonna be okay, pet."
Her fingers ghosted over the incision, and he saw they were shaking. "This is all my fault."
"How do you figure?"
"Dana. She...she's my responsibility, Spike. They're all my responsibility. There could be more like here. Or worse."
That was rubbish, but it explained a lot. Explained why he was here, for one. Why she felt the need to nurse him back to health. Obligation.
"Don't be daft."
"Spike, I did this. I chose to have Willow activate all those potential slayers. If I hadn't..."
"...we'd all be dead. Permanently, this time. And a lot of innocents, besides."
She sniffled, and looked up into his eyes. "You're the one who saved us."
He shook his head. "Held 'em off till the amulet kicked in, didn't they? Some Turok Han woulda twisted my head off long before, otherwise."
She held his gaze for a long moment. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Doesn't matter, as we had no idea what the amulet would do anyhow. You made a decision. A tough one. That's what leaders do."
She nodded, but she seemed unconvinced. She reached for the sponge, wringing in out over the basin. "Still...I'm so sorry she hurt you. It must have been awful." She swiped the sponge gently over his skin, avoiding the stitches.
"Wasn't pleasant. But you wanna feel bad for someone, feel bad for Dana. Poor thing was terrorized as a tike. Thought she was getting back at the bastard who did it. Can't blame her for that."
"No...but it wasn't you. You didn't deserve this." She dipped the sponge into the basin again, squeezing out the excess suds.
"Plenty would say I deserve this, and worse. And they'd prob'ly be right."
She dropped the sponge back into the basin and looked him in the eye, her expression unchanged. "You've paid your debts." She patted his arm dry with the towel.
He shook his head. "No way to pay back what I owe, pet."
"Saving the world doesn't count?" She began to wrap a fresh bandage around his arm.
"Could save the bloody universe, won't bring anyone back. Not a numbers game, is it?"
Her voice was soft, thoughtful. "No, it's not. That's not the point."
"So what is?"
She snipped off the end of the bandage with the scissors. "You keep trying. That's the point."
His arm was now wrapped perfectly in a fresh, white bandage. She smoothed a piece of tape down carefully and then started on his other arm.
"Buffy."
"Yes?" She kept working. Didn't look up.
"Buffy, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Buffy, stop. Look at me."
"I'm almost finished." He waited patiently, because he had no choice, as she methodically completed her task. She took a breath, then looked into his eyes. She was trying to hide it, but he saw the uneasiness there. The anxiety. And the thing that gave him pause: a bit of hope.
"Wish I had a good explanation, but I don't. Unless you consider cowardice a good explanation."
"Not so much. Especially since you're about the bravest person I know."
He closed his eyes to gather himself. He wasn't the person she thought he was, the one he'd seen reflected back at him when he'd looked into her eyes just now. He wished he was. This was going to be harder than he thought.
"Spike. You sacrificed yourself. Do I have to say it again? You saved the world. And don't try to tell me you did it for me..."
"Yeah. Greatest thing I ever did. Will ever do. 'Cept, oops, didn't stick, and here I am turnin' up again like a bad penny."
Her mouth dropped open, incredulous. "How could you even think that! Did you really think I wouldn't be glad to see you?" She shook her head in frustration. "Glad isn't even the word. Happy. So happy, Spike."
"Maybe. But then what?"
She faltered. "I...what do you mean?"
He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. "We go back to things bein' as they were between us?"
She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. Tried again. "Is that...is that what you want?"
"Doesn't much matter what I want, does it?"
Her eyes flashed, uncertainty gone, replaced by anger. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, I can't go back to the way things were. I love you, but I can't. I told you I didn't want anything from you, but that's not true, not anymore. And...I just can't, Buffy."
She nodded, gathered her things together, and stood up. "You're right," she said softly. "You really are a coward."
***
She'd been back several times that day, but all his attempts at conversation had been clipped short or ignored completely. She brought him perfectly heated mugs of blood which he barely managed to choke down, and changed his DVDs often so that he was never without something to watch, but he didn't remember a frame of what had been on the screen. She checked on him one more time before she went off to bed, and his heart sank as her bedroom door clicked shut behind her. He tried for sleep, but laid awake instead, listening to the crickets outside, the rustle of leaves in the ocean breeze, the waves breaking on the beach.
And then another sound intruded. He barely noticed at first. It stopped for awhile, then started again. It was a sound he'd heard before, but rarely. Buffy, sobbing into her pillow in the next room.
Spike reviewed his options. If he called to her, she'd ignore him. He could fake being in pain, but if he did that, she'd be more brassed off than she already was. If he got out of bed, he was risking further injury to his hands, as he had so little strength or coordination right now. He could just stay where he was, do nothing. She probably just wanted to be left alone, anyway. Yeah. That was the safe thing to do. The smart thing.
Bugger that.
He kicked off his covers and stood. Though Buffy had been too angry to help him put his pajama top back on, he was still wearing his hospital issue drawstring trousers, thank God. The pain came with his first steps. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides, blood pooling in his hands. By the time he made it out into the hallway, they were on fire.
Thankfully, Buffy's room was not far. Nothing was in this tiny cottage. But her door was closed and he had no way to open it.
"Buffy? Buffy, please open up. Dammit, Buffy, don't make me try to open this with my teeth!"
She flung open the door and stood there, all red-rimmed eyes and wild hair, mouth open in shock. "What the hell are you doing out of bed?"
"I...you were cryin'."
"Oh my God."
That's all it took for her to spring into action, ushering him into her bed, propping his arms up on pillows, and running to grab his pain medication and a cup of water. She popped two pills into his mouth, held the glass to his mouth and, reconsidering, gave him a third. She knelt next to him on the bed and shook her head in amazement.
"God, you're still a giant idiot, aren't you?"
He tried to smile. "Some things never change. Comforting, ain't it?"
"How do you feel?"
"Stupid?"
She smiled. "Besides that."
"Um, ow?"
Her hands reached for him, one smoothing his hair back from his sweaty brow, the other flitting over his arms, barely touching. "God, Spike. You probably set your recovery back a week with that stunt."
"And now you're stuck with me that much longer. Lucky you."
Her bottom lip began to tremble. "I am lucky."
"How's that?"
"I've got you back, don't I? Well, sort of."
"Buffy..."
"Why didn't you believe me? Am I that awful? Really?"
"Of course not!" Without thinking, he tried to reach out and touch her, and that set his hand on fire once again. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath. "Knew you had feelings for me. Knew I'd made you proud. It meant so much, Buffy. You've no idea. But...it wasn't the same as I felt for you. Still feel for you. I mean, you were snoggin' Angel just the day before, pet..."
"Because I couldn't kiss you! Because I thought I couldn't, or shouldn't. But I wanted to." She held his gaze, even though he could see it was difficult for her. "So much."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And you're right, it's not the same, not yet. But you haven't given me a chance! I needed more time. I didn't have enough time..."
Tears streamed down her face, and she turned away so he couldn't see. He was afraid she was going to run away from him again.
"Buffy, hey. Got time now, don't you pet?"
She turned back to him, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. "Do I?"
"All you need."
"I don't think I'll need all that much."
He saw it then in her expression, what he'd been hoping to see forever. What might have been there for a long time, if only he'd dared see it. "Tell me again, love. Promise I'll answer proper this time."
She planted her hands on either side of his, and leaned in close. "I love you, Spike."
"Love you too, Buffy."
And then she kissed him, gently at first, smiling against his lips as she balance precariously over him.
"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered, kissing him again.
"You won't," he said. And knew it was true.
They'd had more passionate kisses, to be sure. And they would again, he was certain of that, too. But all would pale in comparison to this one.
And then suddenly she pulled back, and looked down at him in amazement.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Don't you feel it?"
He followed her gaze down to their joined hands, where his fingers had sought out and curled tightly around hers. She grinned. And squeezed gently. He concentrated.
And squeezed back.
the end.
This fic was written for kcarolj65, who requested the following:
Characters/pairings you would like to read: Buffy/Spike, Spike-Dawn (friendship), Spike-Angel
Your Fic Kink: Hurt/comfort
Three things you would like in the fic (be as specific as possible): A romantic Spuffy kiss, someone sticking up for Spike, Spike in a dark blue silk shirt
I hope this fit the bill. :-)
AUTHOR: Cindy
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: through AtS "Damage"
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Spike/Buffy, Spike-Dawn friendship
DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play with them.
SUMMARY: After she learns that Spike has been hurt by Dana, Buffy decides that she's the best one to take care of him. But it's more than Spike's hands that need healing.
A/N: This was written for kcarolj65 in the Welcome Back To The Hellmouth Ficathon Her specific requests will be listed at the end of the fic. This is part two of two. Thanks to kellyhk for the super fast beta.
Part one is here.
The cab driver was a big, burly guy who looked more like he belonged on the streets of New York City than the beaches of southern California. He was right on time though, a little early even, and reassured Buffy that they had plenty of time to get to the airport. Then he leaned up against the side of the cab and stuck the stub of a cigar into the corner of his mouth.
“Gonna be a hot one,” he said to Buffy.
“You think so?” She squinted up at the cloudless sky. The cottage didn't have air conditioning, and she was a little worried about Spike. Vampires might not mind extreme temperatures as much as humans, but they were not completely immune to the effects, either. You wouldn't think vampires would sweat, for instance, but Spike did sometimes. The memory of one particularly hot night came crashing back to her in vivid sensory detail. They had unexpectedly run into a large nest of vamps in an abandoned building downtown, more than the two of them would usually take on alone. Spike had tossed his coat aside midway through, and when it was finished, she had looked over at him, drenched and panting, and promptly dragged him behind the building. She remembered how the damp cotton of his shirt clung to his sculpted chest. How she couldn't wait to peel it off him, tasting the salt of his skin as she licked her way down his...
"Buffy? Hello? Earth to Buffy." Dawn was giving her the I-can't-believe-you're-my-sister look. She shook her head. "Weirdo."
The cabbie was also staring at her, and in a not good way. “Hot," he said, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "Record breaker.”
Oh, great. Buffy ignored them both and put on her sunglasses.
"I called Adrianna,” she told Dawn, brilliantly changing the subject. “She'll meet you at the airport, and stay with you until I get home." Adrianna was one of the new watchers, and she lived close to them in Rome.
Dawn nodded. "Cool."
Buffy wrote out a check and handed it to the cabdriver, then picked up Dawn's bag and tossed it over her shoulder.
"Can I take that for you, Miss?"
"Sure," she said, handing it over to him. He lunged forward from the weight of the bag, nearly dropping it before recovering and lugging it toward the car. Buffy grinned. “Sorry.” Dawn had gone shopping yesterday for "souvenirs", and was apparently taking half the mall back with her. With effort, he threw it into the trunk, then gave Buffy an appraising look, which she pretended not to notice.
"I guess you'd better get going. Call me when you get there.” But Dawn was not getting in the car. Buffy sighed. “What now?”
"Come on, stop sulking already. Remember how you never even wanted me to come in the first place? Besides, I'm leaving you alone in a romantic beach cottage with a hot guy. Most big sisters would be grateful."
"It's not exactly a vacation - he's injured. I mean, he can't even use his hands."
"What would he need to use his hands for, hmmm?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Dawn..." Buffy made her voice as intimidating as possible, though intimidation was hard to pull off when you were blushing furiously.
"Well, look at the bright side; at least you won't have to work too hard to get him into bed."
"Dawn!" The cab driver coughed, and Buffy shot him a look that sent him scrambling back behind the wheel.
"Kidding! Geez. I mean, that was a PG13 rated joke, at most. Hey, are you okay?"
“It’s not you. It’s just...Dawn, he didn’t even tell me he was back. He even swore Andrew to secrecy. Which he should have known was number one on the big list of bad ideas, but still...“
“He must have a good reason.”
“Like what, Pollyanna?”
"I don’t know. He was all tight lippy about it. But you should talk to Spike. You always said there were things you wish you could've said to him.” She put her arms around Buffy. “Now's your chance."
Buffy hugged her tightly, then pushed her playfully toward the car. “Stop being the mature one, would you? It's annoying in the extreme." Though she was smiling, Buffy was glad Dawn couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark glasses.
Dawn folded her long legs into the backseat while Buffy shut the door. As the cab pulled away from the curb, Dawn turned to wave at her through the back window. Buffy watched them drive away, the car getting smaller and smaller in the distance until it finally disappeared entirely.
Buffy glanced back at the house. So. A good reason. She'd been over it a million times in her head, of course. Why he'd stayed in L.A., with Angel of all people, instead of coming to her. At first, she was afraid he'd been traumatized, the way she’d been when she came back - or worse, like Angel. In fact, that's the first thing she'd asked Angel, but he said no, that Spike's essence had been trapped in the amulet, and he apparently had no recollection of his time there.
Then she wondered if he'd fallen for someone else. She remembered the way Fred had touched him so gently, and looked at him with such caring eyes. But as soon as Buffy had expressed this fear to Dawn, she'd immediately gone on a reconnaissance mission and reported back that no, Fred and Spike were just friends. The only other thing he’d said to Dawn about why he hadn’t contacted them was that it was “hard to explain.”
After hearing that, there was only one conclusion she could come to. It was her. It must be. He just didn’t feel the same about her. Something had changed between there and here, and he wasn’t in love with her anymore. She’d pushed him away for so long that he’d finally just stayed away. She shouldn’t be surprised. But what could she do? He hadn’t believed her when she’d told him she loved him before. Why would he believe it now?
Even so, Dawn was right. After he was gone, there were so many things she'd wished she would have said to Spike. And now she actually had the opportunity to say them.
She just wasn't sure if he wanted to hear them anymore.
***
They said everyone had a personal hell and Spike now had an idea of what his would consist of. First, he'd be confined to bed. Alone. In a sweltering California cottage with no a/c. In a tiny bedroom decorated in sodding English country. Add a nineteen inch telly - without cable - and that'd be a good start. Oh, and don't forget to make sure that his hands throb and ache, especially when he attempt to move them, which he can't do enough to feed himself. Or even scratch his own balls, for that matter.
God, he was going bloody insane.
But then, there was Buffy.
While he was working with Angel, he had nearly convinced himself that it wasn't so bad. He didn't miss her that much. He was doing fine without her. But now, just being near her, being able to see her and hear her, made him realize how bloody much he still cared.
She flitted around the house like a beautiful butterfly, never alighting in one place for too long. He couldn't help but be amused by her fussing, setting up a fan to blow just so across his body, fetching cool drinks and distracting him from the pain and boredom with his favorite movies on the DVD player. It touched him, her concern for him, but he knew a big part of it was avoidance. The busier she made herself, the less she'd have to actually talk to him. Or endure the awkward silences, of which they'd already had their share. Bit of a challenge, talking around that large elephant in the room.
Not that he blamed her. It was all on him, really. He was the one who'd stayed away. Who'd hid in L.A. and never let her know he was back. Matter of fact, he was a bit surprised that she hadn't demanded an explanation, but instead she was tiptoeing around the subject as much as he was. He supposed she was waiting until he was better to do that, but honestly he didn't think he could stand it that long. Maybe it was better to clear the air and be done with it. He had no idea of what he would say, but he figured he'd take his usual tack. He'd just start talking and something would come to him. Time to stop being a bloody coward.
"Buffy?"
"Just a sec!" She was coming down the hallway, carrying a bowl. When she entered the room, he could see it was a basin of soapy water with a pink sponge floating on top, and a fluffy white towel was folded over her arm. An image of Buffy in white stockings with a seam running up the back inconveniently took up residence in his head. He shifted his legs on the bed to hide the evidence.
"Spike?"
"Yeah?"
"You wanted me?" Her face flushed prettily when she realized what she had said. "I mean...you called for me?"
"Oh. So I did." It was amazing how little it took for all rational thought to leave his brain.
She set the basin down on the nightstand and pulled a desk chair up to the side of the bed. "And?"
"And...what are you doin' with that?" Brilliant change of subject, mate.
"I have to change your bandages. The doctor was going come today to do it, but he got called out on an emergency. Some Gridiron demon having triplets or something."
Spike smiled. "Gra'dron demon. Cave dwellers. Peaceful, for the most part."
"Good to know. So anyway, I figured I could do it. I'm an expert bandage changerer by this point, don't you think?"
"No doubt." He'd seen her bandage and re-bandage dozens of injuries, but right now she looked pretty nervous about the prospect.
“Okay, let’s take this off,” she said, easing his arms out of the blue pajama top. “We don’t want to stain your pretty blouse.”
“Watch it, missy!” he grumbled. “Wasn’t my idea. ‘Sides, little sis says it matches my eyes.”
She opened up the night stand drawer to get some supplies, giving him a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Well, she‘s right.”
Before he had time to contemplate that comment, she was retrieving some very sharp scissors, along with bandages and tape, from the drawer. Chewing on her lower lip, she set all but the scissors aside, turned his arm over gently, and placed the towel underneath. Starting at the wrist, she carefully cut through the bandages and tape that nearly reached his elbow until she was able to pull them away from his skin and toss them into the waste basket next to her. They were slightly stained with blood near the reattachment site, but not badly. Spike looked down to where a neat line of black stitches encircled his arm.
"Wonder if that'll leave a scar?"
When she didn’t answer, he looked up to find her staring down at his arm, face stricken.
"Oh, Spike."
"Gonna be okay, pet."
Her fingers ghosted over the incision, and he saw they were shaking. "This is all my fault."
"How do you figure?"
"Dana. She...she's my responsibility, Spike. They're all my responsibility. There could be more like here. Or worse."
That was rubbish, but it explained a lot. Explained why he was here, for one. Why she felt the need to nurse him back to health. Obligation.
"Don't be daft."
"Spike, I did this. I chose to have Willow activate all those potential slayers. If I hadn't..."
"...we'd all be dead. Permanently, this time. And a lot of innocents, besides."
She sniffled, and looked up into his eyes. "You're the one who saved us."
He shook his head. "Held 'em off till the amulet kicked in, didn't they? Some Turok Han woulda twisted my head off long before, otherwise."
She held his gaze for a long moment. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"Doesn't matter, as we had no idea what the amulet would do anyhow. You made a decision. A tough one. That's what leaders do."
She nodded, but she seemed unconvinced. She reached for the sponge, wringing in out over the basin. "Still...I'm so sorry she hurt you. It must have been awful." She swiped the sponge gently over his skin, avoiding the stitches.
"Wasn't pleasant. But you wanna feel bad for someone, feel bad for Dana. Poor thing was terrorized as a tike. Thought she was getting back at the bastard who did it. Can't blame her for that."
"No...but it wasn't you. You didn't deserve this." She dipped the sponge into the basin again, squeezing out the excess suds.
"Plenty would say I deserve this, and worse. And they'd prob'ly be right."
She dropped the sponge back into the basin and looked him in the eye, her expression unchanged. "You've paid your debts." She patted his arm dry with the towel.
He shook his head. "No way to pay back what I owe, pet."
"Saving the world doesn't count?" She began to wrap a fresh bandage around his arm.
"Could save the bloody universe, won't bring anyone back. Not a numbers game, is it?"
Her voice was soft, thoughtful. "No, it's not. That's not the point."
"So what is?"
She snipped off the end of the bandage with the scissors. "You keep trying. That's the point."
His arm was now wrapped perfectly in a fresh, white bandage. She smoothed a piece of tape down carefully and then started on his other arm.
"Buffy."
"Yes?" She kept working. Didn't look up.
"Buffy, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Buffy, stop. Look at me."
"I'm almost finished." He waited patiently, because he had no choice, as she methodically completed her task. She took a breath, then looked into his eyes. She was trying to hide it, but he saw the uneasiness there. The anxiety. And the thing that gave him pause: a bit of hope.
"Wish I had a good explanation, but I don't. Unless you consider cowardice a good explanation."
"Not so much. Especially since you're about the bravest person I know."
He closed his eyes to gather himself. He wasn't the person she thought he was, the one he'd seen reflected back at him when he'd looked into her eyes just now. He wished he was. This was going to be harder than he thought.
"Spike. You sacrificed yourself. Do I have to say it again? You saved the world. And don't try to tell me you did it for me..."
"Yeah. Greatest thing I ever did. Will ever do. 'Cept, oops, didn't stick, and here I am turnin' up again like a bad penny."
Her mouth dropped open, incredulous. "How could you even think that! Did you really think I wouldn't be glad to see you?" She shook her head in frustration. "Glad isn't even the word. Happy. So happy, Spike."
"Maybe. But then what?"
She faltered. "I...what do you mean?"
He felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. "We go back to things bein' as they were between us?"
She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. Tried again. "Is that...is that what you want?"
"Doesn't much matter what I want, does it?"
Her eyes flashed, uncertainty gone, replaced by anger. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, I can't go back to the way things were. I love you, but I can't. I told you I didn't want anything from you, but that's not true, not anymore. And...I just can't, Buffy."
She nodded, gathered her things together, and stood up. "You're right," she said softly. "You really are a coward."
***
She'd been back several times that day, but all his attempts at conversation had been clipped short or ignored completely. She brought him perfectly heated mugs of blood which he barely managed to choke down, and changed his DVDs often so that he was never without something to watch, but he didn't remember a frame of what had been on the screen. She checked on him one more time before she went off to bed, and his heart sank as her bedroom door clicked shut behind her. He tried for sleep, but laid awake instead, listening to the crickets outside, the rustle of leaves in the ocean breeze, the waves breaking on the beach.
And then another sound intruded. He barely noticed at first. It stopped for awhile, then started again. It was a sound he'd heard before, but rarely. Buffy, sobbing into her pillow in the next room.
Spike reviewed his options. If he called to her, she'd ignore him. He could fake being in pain, but if he did that, she'd be more brassed off than she already was. If he got out of bed, he was risking further injury to his hands, as he had so little strength or coordination right now. He could just stay where he was, do nothing. She probably just wanted to be left alone, anyway. Yeah. That was the safe thing to do. The smart thing.
Bugger that.
He kicked off his covers and stood. Though Buffy had been too angry to help him put his pajama top back on, he was still wearing his hospital issue drawstring trousers, thank God. The pain came with his first steps. His arms dangled uselessly at his sides, blood pooling in his hands. By the time he made it out into the hallway, they were on fire.
Thankfully, Buffy's room was not far. Nothing was in this tiny cottage. But her door was closed and he had no way to open it.
"Buffy? Buffy, please open up. Dammit, Buffy, don't make me try to open this with my teeth!"
She flung open the door and stood there, all red-rimmed eyes and wild hair, mouth open in shock. "What the hell are you doing out of bed?"
"I...you were cryin'."
"Oh my God."
That's all it took for her to spring into action, ushering him into her bed, propping his arms up on pillows, and running to grab his pain medication and a cup of water. She popped two pills into his mouth, held the glass to his mouth and, reconsidering, gave him a third. She knelt next to him on the bed and shook her head in amazement.
"God, you're still a giant idiot, aren't you?"
He tried to smile. "Some things never change. Comforting, ain't it?"
"How do you feel?"
"Stupid?"
She smiled. "Besides that."
"Um, ow?"
Her hands reached for him, one smoothing his hair back from his sweaty brow, the other flitting over his arms, barely touching. "God, Spike. You probably set your recovery back a week with that stunt."
"And now you're stuck with me that much longer. Lucky you."
Her bottom lip began to tremble. "I am lucky."
"How's that?"
"I've got you back, don't I? Well, sort of."
"Buffy..."
"Why didn't you believe me? Am I that awful? Really?"
"Of course not!" Without thinking, he tried to reach out and touch her, and that set his hand on fire once again. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath. "Knew you had feelings for me. Knew I'd made you proud. It meant so much, Buffy. You've no idea. But...it wasn't the same as I felt for you. Still feel for you. I mean, you were snoggin' Angel just the day before, pet..."
"Because I couldn't kiss you! Because I thought I couldn't, or shouldn't. But I wanted to." She held his gaze, even though he could see it was difficult for her. "So much."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And you're right, it's not the same, not yet. But you haven't given me a chance! I needed more time. I didn't have enough time..."
Tears streamed down her face, and she turned away so he couldn't see. He was afraid she was going to run away from him again.
"Buffy, hey. Got time now, don't you pet?"
She turned back to him, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. "Do I?"
"All you need."
"I don't think I'll need all that much."
He saw it then in her expression, what he'd been hoping to see forever. What might have been there for a long time, if only he'd dared see it. "Tell me again, love. Promise I'll answer proper this time."
She planted her hands on either side of his, and leaned in close. "I love you, Spike."
"Love you too, Buffy."
And then she kissed him, gently at first, smiling against his lips as she balance precariously over him.
"I don't want to hurt you," she whispered, kissing him again.
"You won't," he said. And knew it was true.
They'd had more passionate kisses, to be sure. And they would again, he was certain of that, too. But all would pale in comparison to this one.
And then suddenly she pulled back, and looked down at him in amazement.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Don't you feel it?"
He followed her gaze down to their joined hands, where his fingers had sought out and curled tightly around hers. She grinned. And squeezed gently. He concentrated.
And squeezed back.
the end.
This fic was written for kcarolj65, who requested the following:
Characters/pairings you would like to read: Buffy/Spike, Spike-Dawn (friendship), Spike-Angel
Your Fic Kink: Hurt/comfort
Three things you would like in the fic (be as specific as possible): A romantic Spuffy kiss, someone sticking up for Spike, Spike in a dark blue silk shirt
I hope this fit the bill. :-)