Story: Between the Thorns
Chapter: 2
Completed? I'll be updating sporadically, generally on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: Characters and concepts belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The plot is my own.
Summary: A year has passed since the events of The Rose, and a frustrated Buffy Summers is on the run from the Watchers' Council and their questionable methods, determined to finally break away for good. But when potentials start vanishing, it's up to Buffy to deal with them...as well as the vampire she can't seem to turn away, the vampire he can't seem to turn away (not for lack of trying), two hero-worshiping children, and a watcher with an agenda that even he doesn't seem to fully understand. It's not going to be easy, but hey... when has it ever been?
Notes: Yep, I finally did this. :) I'm still not quite satisfied, but I did enough cutting and editing that I think I'm somewhat all right with this chapter. I know that there are a few comments I haven't responded to from last chapter- it's been difficult to even think about this fic during my recent funk, let alone discuss it- so don't be confused if you suddenly start receiving replies to comments from months ago this week. You've all been wonderful with your encouragement and support, and I do hope that the next chapter will be out soon, too. :)
Notex2: Since this is a rewrite of a rewrite, I'm a little worried that things I've established in past rewrites didn't make it through to this one. If you see something that doesn't add up, or just seems like there should be information that's missing, please drop me a line and I'll edit accordingly. :)
Please let me know what you think!
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Blood.
It wrapped around him like a cloak, seeping into his conscious mind every time he shifted, its pungent- luscious- odor everywhere he went, whenever he moved. And there he was, surrounded by a few hundred of those little blood machines, each one an easy temptation. The girl beside him, giving him a sloe-eyed glance…would it be difficult at all to take her hand and lead her outside, sink his teeth into her neck and at last surrender to ecstasy?
No. No, it probably wouldn’t.
He didn’t realize what he was doing until the girl was following him out of the club, her lips attached to one of his ears and her arms around his waist. He jerked away, suddenly guilty. Fuck! And yes, when he looked up, there was another set of eyes on him, regarding him steadily.
“Hey!” The girl scowled at him. “You wanted this, too!”
“Get away from me!” he growled, heading for the door again. She tried to follow, her eyes dark with the annoyance of rejection, and he let out a mental groan- Why, why, why does Buffy have to see this?- and roughly shoved her away.
He sank to the ground in the alleyway outside the club, wrapping his arms around his head in an attempt to stave off the dizziness. The bloodlust wasn’t as strong out here, where the air carried off the scent of teenage dinner and warm bodies weren’t hitting him on every side. Here he didn’t need to worry about succumbing, and he could check off another victory in his eternally-waged battle.
He could do this. For Buffy, he could do this.
He’d failed too many times to count, too many times he didn’t want to think about. Restraining himself had only ended one way over the past three months, and that had been with his fangs in some unsuspecting passerby’s neck, all control lost for a dark and instinctual moment. He hadn’t lied to Buffy. He’d never gotten further than that, had always realized what he was doing and pulled back in horror and shame. Human blood hadn’t yet crossed his lips again, but the need was consuming him.
He'd kept it from her for months the first time around, uneasy with the secret but reluctant to give it up, because oh, the hot, rush of human fear against his tongue, roiling blood burning a swath down his throat, ecstasy of an almost orgasmic pleasure overwhelming him- it had been too long, and he'd misinterpreted inability to feed as his own choice. It hadn't been, and the moment he'd been out in the free world, he'd been seized by that irresistible, unquenchable thirst.
No demon could resist that completely, not even for the love of a slayer.
But he'd tried- gods, he'd tried- once she'd found out, once that little boy lay dying on the ground. He couldn't bear to hurt her and he'd gone with far less in the past, so he'd fought his nature with tenacity and managed until this, still crossing her limits even as he tossed his own aside for her. She was the slayer, and she couldn’t compromise, not even when he was genuinely trying.
No matter how difficult it was.
The scent of human blood, rich and young and tender, filled his nostrils again as the back door to the club opened and three girls slipped out. He scented each one, his eyes still closed, and prayed that they would go away.
“What’s he doing?” one whispered loudly to the other.
There was a muffled giggle. “Who cares? He’s not looking! Here, get the-“ She stopped abruptly, and he slitted his eyes, peering out at the children in front of him.
The oldest couldn’t have been more than a new teen, the youngest no older than nine, and the third somewhere in between. And while it was very, very faint, he could pick up the tiny warning bell that he was rarely aware of ringing in the back of his mind, crying “Potential!”
Lovely.
The middle one fumbled with something in her pocket and emerged with a stake, holding it triumphantly. “Ha!”
“Shh!” the youngest scolded, and all three turned to glance at him anxiously. He kept his head bowed, doing his best to seem unaware of the three. They smelled delicious, all of them, and while children had never been his cup of tea, now the need for their blood was overpowering, calling to him-
No. He bit down on his lip, tasting blood, and swallowed the bitter liquid from his own veins. Control yourself.
“I want to do it!” the first girl hissed. “It’s my stake, anyway.”
The second girl folded her arms stubbornly. “You made me hold it, you lose staking rights.”
“That’s not fair!” the first protested. “I’m the only one here who’s ever faced a vampire!”
The second girl snorted. “Please. You were there for, like, ten seconds before the slayer made you leave, Dawn. You never even saw a vampire.”
“I did, too!” Dawn began to retort, but then the third girl was stepping forward, her eyes narrowed and focused on Spike. He chewed harder on his lip.
“Come on, Dawn. You’ll do the next one,” she whispered. “Janice?”
The second girl nodded. Dawn scowled.
“On three?” The third girl held up a hand, and Janice took a step forward, closer to Spike. “One…two…”
Janice moved forward and was thrown aside, her stake plucked from her hand and an angry-looking slayer standing between her and Spike. “What the hell is this?” Buffy demanded, spinning around to face him. “You’re luring little kids to their deaths now?” Her head turned again, this time to glare at the three girls. “What kind of idiots are you, taunting a mast- a guy who looks like this? You want to be raped and tortured in the back of a club, which, by the way, you’re way too young to be hanging around? Who let you out here, anyway?”
Spike would have basked in Buffy’s fury- always so intoxicating, even when it was directed at him, but he was too caught up in her earlier words. “Raped and tortured?” he demanded wrathfully. “What do you think I am? Can’t you see that I’m fucking trying?”
Her face fell, the anger gone as quickly as it had come. “I do see, Spike. I really do.” She reached for him, pulling him up to stand opposite her, her hands still lingering on his arms. “I was just…I know you wouldn’t do those things. But I don’t know that you wouldn’t take advantage of them in…other ways. And I can’t let you…”
“I’m not feeding,” he repeated, but it was beginning to sound like the same old mantra.
She echoed words spoken a thousand times before. “How can I know that?”
“You could trust me, Buffy,” he whispered, linking their hands together. “You could give me another chance.”
“I want to,” she admitted. “But you-“
“Holy crap, you’re the slayer!” came the delighted voice from behind Buffy, and Spike blinked, suddenly remembering the trio of potentials. “That’s so cool!”
“Wh-what?” Buffy snatched her hands from Spike’s, and he shoved aside the pain of the loss of contact and moved to stand beside her.
“You’re Buffy Summers, right?” Dawn asked. “The slayer!” She beamed. “I didn’t know that you were here! What is it, an apocalypse?” She exchanged an excited look with her friends. “Can we help?”
“Help?” Buffy repeated dumbly, turning to Spike. He shrugged, grinning. She was so adorable when she was confused.
And, he amended, always.
“Help!” Dawn straightened. “We could be slayers someday, too, you know. When you die-“ She flushed. “I mean, not that you’re gonna die, because you’re totally awesome and you were kickass even at the Academy-“
“Stop while you’re ahead, kid,” Spike drawled, an arm snaking around Buffy protectively. Buffy wasn’t going to die, not in this little brat’s lifetime, anyway.
Buffy stiffened, stepping forward and out of his grasp again. “You’re potentials?”
"We were at the Academy," Dawn explained. "Except Lea. She was too young for the school."
The third girl shrugged carelessly. "Only one more year," she pointed out. "And I would have gotten in early, anyway, as an advanced watcher. You know, if the school was still around and all."
"Janice and I are slayers. We were in our second year when the school burned down, and I didn't have anywhere else to go, so Giles let me stay with her family." She flipped her hair and extended a hand. "I'm Dawn."
“Hi.” Spike could feel the annoyance pouring off his girl in waves, her longing to disappear in Sunnydale foiled as quickly as it had come. But she forced a smile instead of snapping at them, glancing worriedly into the shadows and suggesting, “Hey, why don’t we go inside? You never know what kind of monsters might be lurking out here.”
“Like that one?” Janice asked pointedly, staring at Spike. He curled his tongue around his teeth invitingly.
Buffy nudged him with her elbow. Hard. “Spike’s with me,” she announced, and for a perfect moment, they looked at each other and smiled and everything was as it should have been. Then the scowl was back and Buffy turned away. “As long as he’s around me, he’s safe,” she warned them. “Not the rest of the time.”
He broke away from her with a frustrated hiss and stomped over to the bar, took a long drink of something vile-tasting, and swung around to leave.
A small hand caught his arm. “You’re that vampire, right?” Dawn asked him, her trusting eyes meeting his own. “The one from the Academy, the one that everyone said was a good guy now?”
He stared at her. “Who’s been telling you fairy tales?” he demanded coldly. “There are no good vampires.”
Dawn shrugged. “I was on the bus that night. I saw you come out of the building with Buffy.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “It was you, wasn’t it? Your hair wasn’t that blond, but I remember your face now. Buffy wouldn’t let go of you, and I thought you were her prisoner, but then you started with the smoochies, and…“ She looked to him expectantly.
I was her prisoner, he thought. Still am. “Yeah. That was me.”
“I thought so!” She lit up with excitement, pulling him back to their table. He spared a glance in that direction and saw Buffy watching him, looking stricken. “Come on! It’s like an Academy reunion!”
“’ll pass, thanks,” he said dryly, leaning against the bar. “You go have fun.” He gave her a shove toward her friends for good measure, vanishing into the shadows of the club as she turned away.
He waited patiently, making sure that the eager young potential was back in her seat before he began to circle the room, keeping his eyes out for any vampires planning on crashing their party. The club was woefully empty of demonic activity, which was rather fitting of a dormant Hellmouth and not in the least bit appropriate for the hunting grounds of a slayer.
Buffy didn’t seem disturbed by the dearth of danger, instead tearing her eyes away from him to address the girls. He drifted closer, shamelessly eavesdropping and growling at one or two interested-looking males who stepped toward Buffy’s table. Idiots. Unworthy idiots. I could just…
No. He chewed on his lip again, forcing himself to turn back to the conversation.
“…what's going on with the Academy?" Dawn was asking. "We going to be back anytime soon?"
"I don't know," Buffy responded with a carelessness that Spike saw through immediately. His anger dissipated at the sorrow in her eyes and the memories of the way she wept for all that had been lost. "I've mostly lost touch with Giles."
"The demon woman situation," Lea said knowingly. At Buffy's startled gaze, she said defensively. "What? My dad's a watcher. I hear things."
"What happened?" Dawn asked curiously.
"Mr. Giles was keeping some demon hidden in the school. The head Watcher guy is trying to get him fired or something.” Lea shrugged. “There’s a lot of fighting going on, I think. I haven’t heard much.”
“But he's the only one who can run the school!” Janice protested, eyes darkening with concern. “What’s going to happen to the Academy?”
“What’s going to happen to us?” Dawn echoed. She looked to Buffy pleadingly. "You're the slayer. They'll listen to what you say about it, right? Can’t you just…make them let him go?”
Spike closed her eyes, remembering a time when they’d actually believed that, when Buffy had thought of the slayer as a warrior queen to whose bidding the entire Council catered. Now they knew what he’d always suspected, and he was the only of her supporters left to pick up the pieces. I can’t do this alone, he thought, not for the first time, and fidgeted uncomfortably with the slip of paper in his pocket.
"I'll see what I can do," she lied, and he could hear the waver in her voice.
He’d had enough, and as Janice scowled knowingly and opened her mouth to argue, his hand closed around Buffy’s. “Dance with me, pet.”
She gladly took his hand and rose, tossing the girls an apologetic look as she followed Spike to the dance floor. "Thanks for that."
His eyes sparkled wickedly, suddenly determined to force the pain on her face away. "Was watching the furrow of your brow till you hit vamp face." He twisted to face her, winding an arm around her back. "'Sides, didn't take you for one to enjoy schmoozing down a gang of snot-nosed potentials."
"They weren't that bad," Buffy protested, sliding out of his embrace. "And what are you doing, anyway? We don't dance. Not like this.”
"Sure we do." He took both her hands in his own and pulled closer, lips tickling her ear. "That club in Mexico...You wore that stunning red number."
She shivered and he let go of a hand to pull her back against him, remembering that night fondly. There had been a demon party, complete with twelve virgin sacrifices, and they’d been so distracted, so caught up in each other, that she'd nearly forgotten to save the victims. "You tried to pull me into the kitchen and...”
"Have my way with you?" he murmured silkily. "Can't blame a man for trying when the love of his life is at his side, looking like pure sin." He brushed a kiss against her neck, inhaling the scent of everything Buffy. “So beautiful,” he breathed, and she clung to him, every beat of her heart like a drum against his own.
"Spike?" she whispered.
"Mm-hm?" He kissed the top of her head.
"I want to trust you. I do." She looked up at him, and he turned away. He’d taught her flexibility at the Academy, and she’d learned rigidity from his actions afterwards. And yes, in honest moments he could admit to himself that this new situation they were in was fully his fault. "But..."
"Vampire."
"Right." She sighed. "I just sort of had this fairy tale, beauty-and-the-beast existence planned out for us, and when you didn't play along and become that perfect prince-"
"No, Buffy," he murmured, laughter in his voice. "Vampire, leaving with the bird at the front exit."
"Oh. Damn." She let him go, pouting at the loss, and tore off in the direction of the closest vampire, Spike strolling behind her. They reached the door at the same time as the vampire and Buffy grabbed him, twisted his arm and yanked him out the door so quickly that he was gone and dust before his bewildered companion could follow them.
Buffy extended a hand to her own vampire, squeezing his fingers tightly when he took it. "Let's go home."
--
She was quick to accept him but even quicker to reject him, so he was wary even as they walked together, his arm loosely draped around her waist and her face turned to study his own as they walked. She trusted him with her own life, that he didn't doubt. She didn't second-guess his love, and there was a part of him that twisted uncomfortably with that knowledge.
He wasn't William anymore, wasn't even Dru's adoring consort who had thought that love was everything in a relationship. It certainly wasn’t in this one. There was pain, and anger, and the constantly building doubt that they could ever compromise enough for this to work. He'd never deceived himself enough to believe that he was the only one struggling. She was dying inside, a little bit at a time, every moment she felt that she'd caved to evil. And if he couldn't disabuse her of that feeling, he'd destroy her.
She squeezed his hand. "What are you brooding about?" she asked playfully, but her eyes were dark and afraid, and he wondered what insecurities had prompted it.
He tugged her into an embrace. "I love you."
"Oh." She stood on tiptoes to kiss him softly. "Love you, too."
They stood together only a block away from Buffy's mother's home, locked in a quiet embrace for an eternity, and for that time, Spike nearly forgot the food that walked past him. "My salvation," he murmured adoringly, burying his face in her hair. "You're..."
"I could do this, right?" She looked up to him, her face imploring. "Stay here, live with my mother, patrol, keep an eye on you..." She nuzzled his chest. "That's what other slayers used to do."
"I know, kitten." He bit back the words he'd nearly said that would have made her leave, indignant, and instead spoke another truth. "I'll be here with you, whatever you choose."
With a contented sigh, she attacked his lips again and they were entwined again, loving, together. Spike forced intrusive thoughts back in his mind until she was safely in her house, and only then did he heave a frustrated sigh.
Yes, a life like that in Sunnydale would be perfect for him. But she was born for so much more, and it would tear her apart to neglect that.
He fumbled for some change from the vampire whose pocket he'd picked earlier and headed down the road with a heavy heart.
It felt nearly like a conscience.
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