Chapter 63 - Reports

Buffy woke up to a hand touching her neck. At first she thought it was Giles changing the bandage again. Then she realized that the hand was cold, and the touch was almost reverent.

She opened her eyes to find Spike kneeling next to her. Buffy met his gaze, which never wavered from hers.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he said after a moment.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m your bloody savior.”

“I wasn’t. Wasn’t meaning to, anyway. But if I was, well, you did save me.”

“If I’d been there in the first place, we would’ve fought him together. You wouldn’t have needed saving.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I think I do.” His other hand rubbed over hers.

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment. “Mm. You saved me again. I haven’t saved you once.”

“I’ve got one coming, then.”

“Yeah, I’ll save you next time.”

“I’ll hold you to that, pet,” he said with a faint smile.

The last time she’d seen him—really seen him—neither of them had been smiling.

“We were fighting,” she said.

“I don’t much care right now.” His fingers traced down her cheek.

“Where did you go last night?” Buffy asked.

Spike’s hand slid from her face as he tilted his head slightly.

“I killed Darla.”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. It was really the last thing she would have expected him to say. Darla hadn’t even been there when Angelus had gotten her.

“What? I mean, I don’t—”

His expression turned hard. “He tried to take what I need most, so I took what he needed most.”

Buffy was considering the impact of the first part of that sentence when a throat was cleared from across the room.

She could see Giles standing by the open bathroom door. He was fully dressed, but was toweling his wet hair as he looked at them. His gaze settled on Spike and then flicked toward the front door.

“I knocked,” Spike said, standing up. He shrugged. “Door was open.”

Buffy doubted that the door had been open, but whatever Giles thought, he kept it to himself. She propped herself up and turned around, sitting up on the couch. Spike plopped down on the other end.

Giles sat down in the chair. “Er, did I hear you correctly? You killed Darla?”

“That I did.”

“How?”

Spike stretched back, looking pleased with himself. “Well, I knocked her out, tied her up, and dragged her into the sun.”

“I say—just like that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“You overcame her on your own?”

“This helped.”

He had a cattle prod.

“And how exactly was that revenge?” Buffy asked. “I thought you would want to hurt Angelus.”

“I did. I made him watch.”

“You did it in front of him?” That was something she hadn’t considered.

Spike turned his head to her. “That was the best part. Pulled her up to his front door and called him out. Wasn’t a thing he could do about it.”

“Strategic,” Giles said, studying him. “Though perhaps somewhat cold-blooded.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “No worse than stakin’ her. Bet you set vamps on fire all the time.”

“Yes, well, I was referring to the premeditated aspect.”

“You only killed her to get to him,” Buffy realized.

“It’s the best way, or so I’ve been told.” He grinned. “Dunno. We’ll have to see if he’s off his game next time.”

With the cold eyes and the chilling smile, Spike looked—well, he looked really scary. Evil. And completely satisfied with it.

“One down,” he said, shrugging.

“What happened to me fighting them on my own?”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why don’t you just go kill Angelus, too?”

“Maybe I will,” he sneered, sounding like a teenager who had just been double dared.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’m killing Angelus. Why should you get to kill him?”

“It’s personal.”

“He tried to kill me! Definition of personal!”

Giles, who had been silently watching their exchange, spoke up. “How is it personal?”

Spike turned toward him. “We have history.”

“Oh?”

“He nearly killed Buffy here. And he killed the woman I loved.”

Giles looked uncomfortable. “Er, my sympathies.”

Spike turned to her, dismissing Giles and pulling a set of keys out of his pocket. “I got your car.”

She’d left it at his place last night, she realized, as she’d set out for patrol from there. Frowning, Buffy touched her hip, feeling her own keys still in her pocket. She didn’t ask how he’d gotten into her house for the spare keys. She was just grateful he hadn’t hotwired the car.

Spike dug into his duster pocket and yanked out a wadded piece of green material. He tossed it to her, and she saw that it was one of her tank tops. “I also got you this,” he said.

Giles discreetly looked away as she pulled the blanket from her shoulders and slipped the shirt over her head. Spike didn’t.

Buffy glanced back and forth between the two of them. Maybe now would be a good time to tell Giles about Spike. He had just saved her life and killed one of the vampires he was related to. On the other hand, he obviously had an invitation to Giles’s apartment. Which probably wasn’t going to go over well. But mainly, she didn’t feel like having any sort of a scene right now.

Giles noticed her staring at Spike and frowned, as if he were realizing that there was some sort of private joke that he wasn’t in on.

Then he cleared his throat. “Well, Buffy. Perhaps you should get home. Get plenty of rest. Xander and I will patrol until you’re feeling recovered.”

She nodded, standing up. The room suddenly spun and she felt lightheaded. But before she could sink back down, Spike looped an arm around her.

His other arm moved, but he seemed to sense that she didn’t want to be picked up. Buffy leaned on him as she said goodbye to Giles. Spike half supported, half carried her outside, and opened the passenger’s side door for her.

“What’s with the ‘he killed the woman I loved’ stuff?” she asked as he got in.

Spike started the car. “Angelus did kill the woman I loved. He killed her before I met her, but…”

“Drusilla,” she realized. “Y’know, you are way too good at this casual lying thing.”

“Have to think on your feet.”

“So why Darla? Why not Drusilla?” she asked after a moment. Buffy wasn’t really asking why he hadn’t killed Drusilla instead; she was actually curious about Angelus.

“Oh, he likes Dru. But Darla was the one he needed. It’s always been about her. He might’ve even loved her, in his own sick way.”

“So, what? A little torture and then a walk in the sun?”

“Didn’t torture her. She got off on that, if I remember. Wouldn’t really have done much good. And she wasn’t the one I wanted to hurt.”

Buffy could care less that Darla was gone. She really could. It was one less vampire for her to worry about. However, it did bother her slightly that Spike hadn’t killed Darla because he’d wanted her dead, but because he had wanted to get to Angelus.

She’d done the math in her head. Spike had to have found Darla before dawn, and then sat there for hours with her until the morning sun was high enough, knowing full well what he was going to do. Then he’d dragged her out execution style.

Though it didn’t bother her enough to make an issue out of it. They had enough issues right now without adding any others.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Dunno. Hadn’t got any further than offing her.”

“Well, you can get off the vengeance kick. I’m going to kill him.”

“So I’m supposed to get on your vengeance kick, then?” he asked, glancing in her direction.

“That’s…not the point,” Buffy said. “I’m going to kill him because it’s my job. And when I kill him, I’m just going to do it. Not go and do a bunch of things that will piss him off even more. You do realize he’s going to be out for us now, don’t you?”

Spike looked back at the road. “We’ll just have to be ready.”

-----

When they got to her house, Spike pulled into the driveway beside her mother’s car. Buffy opened her door, but before she could get out, Spike was there. He reached for her.

“No,” she said. “Mom hasn’t left for work yet. If I don’t walk into the house under my own power, she’s going to freak even more.”

Spike picked her up anyway. “To the door, then.”

He carried her up the drive and onto the porch, but set her down on the step before he opened the front door.

However, there was no hiding the large bandage around her neck, which Joyce noticed as soon as Buffy walked in.

She jumped up from the chair in the living room where she had been drinking coffee. “Honey, what happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine now. There was a vampire.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this last night?”

“Well, I was kinda passed out on Giles’s couch.” She quickly continued. “Giles and Willow didn’t want to worry you. But I’m fine. I didn’t have to go to the hospital or anything.”

Joyce got a horrified look on her face. “The hospital?”

“No hospital! Mom, I’m fine.”

“But you…were actually bitten?”

“Yeah. Vampire Slayer? Sort of a risk. I lost some blood, but I really am fine.”

“Do you want me to stay home with you today?”

“No, Mom—”

“Are you sure? Is there anything I can get you? Some soup?”

“I don’t have the flu, I—”

“Breakfast. Let me make you breakfast.”

Buffy sighed. Though food would probably be good. “Okay. Some toast and some eggs.”

“And juice,” Spike said from behind her. “She needs liquids.”

Joyce seemed to notice him for the first time. “Hello, Spike.”

“I picked her up from the Watcher’s,” he said, answering the question in her eyes.

She turned back to Buffy. “Now, do you want breakfast in your room, or in the living room?”

“My bed, definitely. I’ve slept on a couch enough today.”

Her mother nodded, and then quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

“Now she’ll be late for work,” Buffy said. “But I had to let her do something. It makes her feel better, like she can fix it. Maybe she’ll worry less.”

She glanced in the direction of her room. The stairs suddenly looked very daunting. “You could carry me now,” she suggested meekly.

Spike complied, lifting her into his arms.

Buffy leaned into his chest as he started up the stairs. She let her arms fall loosely in her lap. For some reason, she suddenly felt very small. The fact that going upstairs would be exerting herself brought everything that had happened last night into stark reality. It was over, but it was still affecting her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His grip on her tightened.

Spike entered her room and set her down on her bed, propping the pillows so she could sit up. His face was neutral.

Buffy started unbuttoning her jeans. Spike unlaced her boots. She shifted her hips and pushed the jeans down; he tugged them the rest of the way off. Buffy pulled her shirt over her head. She unfastened her bra while Spike was at her dresser. He threw her a pajama top without turning around.

When she was covered, Spike moved to pull the comforter over her. He looked at her like he wanted to say something.

Then he straightened up, running his fingers through her hair before walking to the door. “Get some rest, pet.”