Chapter 61 - Ruins

Most boyfriends would not have dropped their girlfriends off at an older man’s apartment at nighttime to do magic. But Oz wasn’t most boyfriends. And of course, most people didn’t live on a Hellmouth. And she really was there for Giles to show her a new meditation.

Willow was digging through the herbs in Giles’s cabinet when there was suddenly a furious pounding at the door.

From the sound of it, it was about to be knocked off its hinges.

She frowned questioningly at Giles, but since she was closest, she went to look through the peephole window. Her eyes grew wide at the sight and she flung the door open.

Spike stood on the doorstep, cradling an unconscious Buffy in his arms. She was wrapped in his coat and there was a ripped shirt tied around her bloody neck.

“Buffy! Ohmygod, what happened?” Willow stepped out, hands fluttering uncertainly, unsure if she should touch her or not.

“Angelus. I got him off her.”

She felt Giles come up behind her. “Get her inside, here on the sofa!” he gasped.

Willow’s eyes grew huge as she realized what had just happened, but Giles was too worried about Buffy to notice. Spike, however, caught her look, and his look plainly said that she had better keep her mouth shut.

Of course, Giles probably never even considered the fact that a vampire might bring a bleeding Slayer back to her Watcher’s door. And Willow was sort of acting like she knew him. And she supposed a mauled Buffy might startle Giles enough not to realize he had issued an invitation without the usual precaution.

Spike entered and laid Buffy down, unwrapping the coat from around her. “Blanket, Red.”

Willow realized Buffy was only wearing jeans and a bra, and she quickly grabbed an afghan from the chair. Giles disappeared into the bathroom for the first aid kit.

Spike knelt by Buffy, carefully tucking the afghan around her and propping a pillow beneath her head. He gently pushed her hair back, saying something in her ear. Willow thought she caught the words “love” and “sorry.”

She suddenly felt like she was watching something she shouldn’t be. But she still hovered by Buffy’s head, anxiously looking down. “Is she hurt anywhere else?” she whispered.

He stood, shaking his head as if to clear it. Willow noticed that one of his hands was bloody, and he was unconsciously bringing it to his mouth, before he seemed to think better of it.

“Does she need a transfusion?”

“She just lost enough to knock her out.”

“How can you be sure?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh. Uh, right.”

Spike moved back as Giles reappeared.

Giles stooped down and opened the first aid kit, and then gingerly removed the bloody material from around Buffy’s neck. Willow gasped as she saw the wound. She turned away as he began to clean it, looking at Spike over Giles’s head.

He looked absolutely sick.

“Your hand,” she suddenly said.

He glanced at her.

“The kitchen’s there. If you wanna, uh, wash your hand.”

Willow wasn’t sure why she thought ordering a vampire to go wash up was such a good idea. However, he obediently went into the kitchen. She heard the tap come on.

A moment later, he was behind her. She didn’t even hear him. Rather, she suddenly felt that he was there.

She took a step away, removing him from her personal bubble. “Um, yeah?”

He wasn’t even looking at her. His face was hard, his eyes focused on Buffy.

“I’ll be back,” he said in a low voice. “Later.” He put on his coat.

“What? Don’t you wanna be here when she wakes up? Not that you can’t go,” she added quickly. “No one stopping you. I mean, where are you going?”

His jaw clenched. “Out for some blood.”

Willow blanched as he slammed the door behind him, before she realized that he didn’t mean the drinking kind.

After a moment, Giles stood, walking into the kitchen to throw away Buffy’s shirt and the wipes that he had cleaned her neck with. He washed his own hands and then came back into the room. “She didn’t lose a great amount of blood. However, the wound on her neck was—was quite savage. She—she could have been—it’s fortunate that her friend was there. Who was he?”

Willow, who had never been good at lying, shocked no one more than herself when she heard the words coming out of her mouth.

“Someone Buffy knew in L.A. He—he knows about the Slaying. He’s killed vampires before.” She shrugged. It wasn’t a lie.

“He seemed quite distraught.”

“And pissed,” she added. “Well, he did.”

“Yes, well. His last comment—I hope he isn’t considering going after Angelus himself. It would be incredibly reckless.”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure he wouldn’t. He’ll probably just find some minions to stake or something.”

She didn’t mention the fact that there had been a look of pure murder on Spike’s face.

-----

Spike had been storming away—on orders, he scoffed—when something had pulled him back. Sure, Buffy might not want him along, but that had never stopped him from following her before. And not that she couldn’t handle herself, but going off in the state she was in wasn’t going to do her a bit of good. He’d just follow her, make sure nothing happened, and then go hit the bars.

However, as he had gone back in the direction she’d walked, it had become increasingly obvious that something was wrong.

He’d gotten there just in time to see Angelus immobilize her and go for her throat.

He’d shouted something—it might have been her name, it might have been ‘No,’ it might have just been a shout—in an attempt to delay for one fraction of a second what he knew was about to happen.

It hadn’t.
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The other vampire stood and turned toward him, grinning when he looked at Spike even as his teeth were hooked in Buffy’s neck.

She met his eyes with a glassy stare.

Angelus pulled out for a moment to revel in the situation. Her blood was on his mouth.

“Well, look what I caught.” He shook her.

Spike made the barest movement forward.

“Ah, ah,” Angelus said, his hand moving to her forehead at just the right angle to snap her neck. “I’d like to have some fun with her first, but I’ll kill her right here if I have to. Might be worth it, just to see the look on your face.”

Spike remained still, trying to come up with a way to get Buffy away from Angelus unharmed. Drusilla was standing just to the side of Angelus, and had been gleefully encouraging him to drain Buffy right there.

For a moment, they all stood frozen.

“I bet she would be fun to keep for a while,” Angelus said with a leer. He ran his hand down her body, pulling her hip into him as he made a suggestive thrust.

Funnily enough, that was what did it—gave Spike the opening he needed.

Without warning, Dru suddenly jumped completely on Angelus’s back and began hitting him over the head.

“No! No, no, NO!” she screeched. “No more Slayers for you! You ignored me quite well enough when you had the last one. No keeping her!”

His grip on Buffy loosened as he tried to bat Dru away with one hand, and it was all Spike needed. He darted in and shoved Angelus, simultaneously snatching Buffy away and backing up.

She hung limply from his arm, like a rag doll.

As much as he despised running, there was no way he could fight them—hell, even just Angelus—and ensure Buffy’s safety in the middle of a cemetery. Spike kept backing up. It wasn’t running, really, it was a tactical retreat.

He would only have to run if they chased him.

However, that didn’t seem to be in the plans for tonight. Having got Dru under control, Angelus merely grinned at the scene before him. His face shifted back as he looked down at Spike. “Well, Willy, what’s it to be? Come after me or help your little girlfriend?” He laughed and then turned his back on Spike, pulling Dru after him and promising not to ignore her at all. “In fact, I’m going to punish you very thoroughly for what you just did…”

Bastards—to dismiss him like a— If he didn’t have to help Buffy—

But helping Buffy was—he had to help Buffy. And leaving her bleeding in a cemetery, even for the short amount of time it would take to go after Angelus was not something he could do.

He laid her carefully on the ground, cringing when he saw the brutal marks on her neck, the blood still flowing out.

“Buffy…”

“…to…Giles’s.”

“I’m so sorry, love.”
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Not having anything else at hand, Spike had torn her shirt down the middle, pulling it off and tying it securely around her neck before wrapping her in his duster. He’d talked to her the entire time. ‘Hold on, sorry, you’re all right, love, so sorry, Buffy, didn’t mean it, be just fine, pet…’

He would have taken her to the hospital, in spite of her request if she had needed it. But her pulse had been slow but steady, and he could hear that her heartbeat was in no danger of falling, though she had already passed out.

So he’d taken her to the Watcher’s, even managed to score himself an invite with no trouble—something he would have internally gloated over had the situation been different. He’d left her there, with the Watcher and her nervous friend, and was now on his way to he didn’t know where, to do he knew exactly what.

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Buffy woke up slowly. It took her a moment to figure out where she was, but after staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, she managed to turn her head and look around.

Giles’s.

And then she remembered. The pain in her neck as she moved helped clue her in.

The fight with Spike. The real fight with Angelus.

Angelus biting her.

But then Spike had come back.

-----Spike suddenly in front of her, his eyes full of hate and fear-----Then she was in his arms, on the ground-----Spike pressing his hands to her throat, tying something around it, muttering incoherently-----Picking her up-----

Buffy shifted slightly. She opened her mouth to say something, but only a small noise came out.

“Buffy?”

“Ah…”

There was the sound of footsteps, and then Giles’s head appeared in her line of sight.

“Buffy. You’re awake.” Relief flooded his voice.

“…time is it?” she asked.

“Slightly after midnight.”

“Mom—”

“Willow, ah, used your phone to ‘text,’ I believe she called it, your mother earlier. She said you were staying at her house for the night.”

“Is she still here?”

“No, she’s gone home. Let me get you something to drink.”

He disappeared, returning a moment later with a glass of orange juice and several pills.

Buffy propped herself up with some effort. He handed her the glass and placed an extra cushion behind her back.

“What’re those?” she asked.

“Painkillers. And iron.”

She took a long gulp of juice, and said, “I’m fine. Really. I’ve lost blood before, and I was fine.”

“How much blood?”

I’d have to ask Spike. “I don’t know,” she said. “Not enough to knock me out.”

Giles was staring down at her with that stern expression. His outstretched hand hadn’t moved.

“Oh fine,” she said, taking the pills and swallowing them. “Happy now?”

“Happier, yes.” He sat down in the nearby chair and cleared his throat. “The, er, gentleman that brought you in…Willow said he’d fought vampires before?”

“Um, yeah.”

“He’s rather experienced?”

“He knows how to fight.”

“Ah. What was his name?”

Buffy quickly ran through things in her head. Spike? No. William? No. Will? Too close. However, unable to think of anything else, she said, “It’s Will. He knew about vampires and stuff way before I met him. And then he helped me with some stuff…” She saw how Giles was suddenly looking at her. “Is who I’ve dated part of Watching?”

“Well,” he said, flustered. “He—he seemed rather helpful to you. I was merely going to say that it was quite lucky that he was with you tonight. I—I am most glad you’re all right.”

Buffy frowned. Giles looked very twitchy. “So where is he, anyway?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, of course. He, er, well—that is to say, he—”

“Giles, spit it out.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He left after he brought you. I think he may have gone looking for revenge.”

“Oh.” Buffy tried to look concerned.

“I would have tried to stop him, but he was gone before—I mean, he was quite—”

“It’s okay. He’ll—be fine. I mean, I’m sure he won’t do anything dangerous.”

-----

Pawnshops on the Hellmouth had all sort of things. And the ones with the more questionable items in particular were open late, nighttime being when they catered to most of their clientele.

Spike paid the half-demon behind the counter and stuck his newly acquired cattle prod through his belt. He carried his other purchase.

He could still see Angelus, mocking him for his inability to help her, scorning him for saving her instead of fighting—dismissing him as inconsequential, someone to be dealt with at his leisure.

Angelus’s gloating face as he drank Buffy down.

Angelus never went straight for the kill, not when it was important. He liked to torment, liked to play, liked to mess with people’s heads—things he had tried to teach Spike once, though the younger vampire had ultimately preferred the simple, straightforward approach.

Until now.

Spike smiled a horrible smile to himself.

Let it never be said that William hadn’t learned his lessons.