full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
Because He Needs Me by DreamsofSpike
 
Comfort
 
<<     >>
 
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

This lovely banner was created for me by the amazing Tamakin84!! Thanks so much, love!!!




Spike sat very still on the sofa beside the girl, the one who made him feel safer than he had felt in as long as he could remember, quietly waiting to find out what she and the others had in store for him. All he could do at the moment was just to sit there, clinging to her hand and pressed tight against her side – just trying to process what had just happened.

It seemed impossible to him.

Oh, it was not so very surprising that he had managed to figure out what she was trying to say to him. He might have lost his memory, might have trouble understanding words and concepts that he could not remember hearing before – but he was a very quick learner.

The first thing he had learned during his captivity was that he *had* to be.

His captor had not been nearly as patient with him as these people were being – so far.

If he failed to obey immediately – whether or not he understood the command – his captor would beat him mercilessly, or refuse to feed him that day, or inflict some other cruel form of torture on his body – until he somehow managed to figure out what it was that was required of him, and do it.

Yes – Spike had had very strong motivation to *become* a fast learner.

So, it did not surprise him that he had caught on quickly to what the girl had been trying to ask him.

What *did* surprise him was her response to his meager success.

He had heard the words she had spoken to him, on a few rare occasions before, when he had finally managed to obey his master’s commands – though they had usually been spoken with annoyance or disgust, however, that he had not figured it out sooner.

To be told that he was “good”, and in that gentle voice of pleasure and approval – well, it was a completely new experience for him – and he was not quite sure how to react to it just yet.

He kept getting the anxious, nagging feeling that at any moment, he was going to do something to mess it all up – make some foolish mistake, and cause them to take away this safety, this kindness that was so new and strange to him.

Somehow, there was a certainty in his heart that the new one – the girl who had held him and allowed him to cry in her arms – would not hurt him. He felt safe with her, secure; it was one of those things, rare though they were, that he simply *knew* automatically, though he had no idea how he knew it.

Just like the knowledge of the power and authority that he sensed coming from the other girl, the first to find him and take him away from his prison.

She had been kind to him, thus far – and there was something, deep inside him, that seemed to call out to her, craving her nearness…her attention. Yet, a part of him knew, just as deeply and instinctually, that she was dangerous – powerful, and deadly, should she find a reason to punish him.

He desperately wanted to avoid giving her one – yet he was convinced in is heart that sooner or later…he would.

He was bad.

His captor had made it very clear to him, many times.

No matter how hard he tried, how desperately he attempted to do everything right, to be good and avoid his master’s wrath – he had always managed to do something wrong, to earn more violent punishment, creating his own hell that he had lived in for as long as he could remember.

But tonight – so far – he had managed to avoid the inevitable pain of punishment, for longer than he ever had with his previous captor.

A faint light of hope began to break through in his heart, so small that it barely dared to exist…

Maybe…just maybe…

*Good,* he thought desperately, hopefully. *I can be good…must be good…*

***********************************

“Okay – um – I know nobody wants to hear this right now,” Buffy said softly, her reluctance obvious in her apologetic expression. “It’s not going to be easy, either…but – we have to check – check the rest of his body, for injuries. He was – having trouble walking on his own, earlier. If it’s anywhere near as bad as his back and his chest were, we can’t just leave it – no matter how badly we might want to.”

Dawn and Anya were both quiet, sobered by her words. Dawn felt Spike tense slightly beside her, probably in an instinctive response to the tense air that had fallen over the room, and she instinctively tightened her arm ever so slightly around him in a protective gesture.

She knew very well that her sister was right. Anyone sadistic enough to have torn into the helpless vampire so viciously on the top half of his body, certainly had not left his lower half untouched. But, after the progress they seemed to have made – just then, when Spike seemed to be beginning to feel a little safer with them – she hated to do anything to make him frightened again, as he would certainly be when they tried to take off the filthy, blood-stained jeans he now wore.

He had probably *been* wearing them for the past – however long he had been imprisoned.

Yes – they had to come off. There was no way around it.

“Spike?” Dawn began cautiously, turning slightly to face him more directly. “We need to – to take care of you, Spike – to make sure you’re not – hurt – well…and there’s absolutely no good way to explain this to him, is there?” she sighed, redirecting her attention to her sister. “He’s just not gonna get it…”

“No,” Buffy agreed. “He’s doesn’t understand that much – not yet.”

There was a moment’s heavy silence, before Dawn asked in a small, pleading whimper, “Do we *have* to, Buffy?” She looked between her sister and her friend with troubled eyes, quickly filling with fresh tears.

“Yes,” Anya drew her attention with the simple statement. “We do. Look at his legs, Dawnie – look at the – the blood on those jeans…”

Dawn looked down, sobered by the sight of the dark patches of dried blood that had seeped through the jeans Spike wore – wondering with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach just what sort of wounds might have caused them, and how long those stains had been there.

“He’s going to need new ones,” Anya continued matter-of-factly. “We can’t just put those back on him once you’ve treated his injuries…I’ll go to the store…”

The slight note of hurried discomfort in her voice told Buffy that she was trying to avoid the uncomfortable situation of being there when Spike was undressed – especially after the tense conversation she had had with Buffy earlier that evening, just before she had left to get the blood.

Buffy nodded, appreciative of the gesture, rising from the couch and heading toward the coatrack by the door where her purse hung. “I’ll get some money…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Anya dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her hand, surprising both sisters, with her uncharacteristic disregard for the expense, as she gently pushed Buffy back toward the couch and headed toward the door.

Anya *never* disregarded an expense.

“I’ll get a receipt,” the vengeance demon added just before leaving – and both the other girls visibly relaxed at the reassurance that all was still normal as far as Anya was concerned.

“Thanks,” Buffy called after her distractedly – already focused on the unpleasant task at hand – one she desperately wished that she could avoid. “Maybe -- *he* can do it? Take them off? Maybe he’d be – more comfortable? Feel less – threatened?” she suggested awkwardly.

She really did not want her little sister to have to be a part of this at all – but then, she knew that Dawn was the only one at the moment that Spike seemed to trust; and if she attempted to send the girl away, even if she *did* succeed, Spike would be too terrified to allow her to help him.

Not that she had any notion that she *would* actually succeed in sending Dawn away.

She knew full well that there was no way the girl would leave his side.

“Spike?” Dawn tried again, softly, her reluctance to do what she knew they had to do clear in her voice. “Trust me – okay? We’re not gonna hurt you – okay, Spike?”

He just looked straight ahead, as usual, swallowing in a nervous reflexive action, but making no attempt to respond to the words that he clearly did not understand.

“Can you – can you take off your jeans, Spike?” Dawn asked, her intensely apologetic voice barely over a whisper, tears streaking her face with the words that she desperately wished she didn’t have to say.

Spike’s reaction did not make it any easier.

He began to tremble under her arm around him, drawing back away from her against the couch, whimpering pitifully, shaking his head in a pleading gesture – making it painfully clear that he understood the words she had spoken…had probably received them as a command all too many times.

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” Dawn repeated tearfully, reaching out a gentle hand to touch his bandaged arm in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “Please, Spike – we just wanna help…”

Buffy felt sick to her stomach, as the shaking, terrified vampire rose from the couch, obedient despite his fear, and began to obey Dawn’s request. With trembling hands he unfastened the jeans, which hung loosely on his skeletal frame, and allowed them to drop to the floor, kicking them off and a couple of feet away from him.

And then – he dropped to his knees on the floor, between the couch and the coffee table, his head bowed low, shaking uncontrollably as he awaited what he had obviously assumed was to be more suffering.

Buffy knew that she should say something – do something, to reassure him and calm his fears – but for a long moment, all she could do was stare in horror at the battered mess that had been made of Spike’s legs.

No wonder he had had trouble walking on his own.

His pitifully thin legs were black and blue, covered back and front with red, angry welts and dark bruises, from his feet all the way to his narrow, trembling hips. Some of the wounds were crusted with dried blood – others that were less healed were oozing slightly, probably due to the rather large amount of blood he had just ingested, after so long on starvation rations.

It was quite obvious to Buffy that the part of Spike’s body usually covered by his jeans had born the brunt of most of the beatings he had received -- and judging by the minimal damage to the jeans themselves, and his response to Dawn’s words, he had most likely been made to remove them for most of those beatings.

And what was worse – his captor had clearly not restricted his brutal blows to Spike’s legs.

As the shock of the sight gradually wore off, Buffy became aware of a soft sobbing sound that took her by surprise – until she looked to the couch, and saw her little sister, crying quietly, shaking her head in a desperate attempt to deny what she had seen, the heartless brutality that had been done to her friend, when he was most helpless to defend himself against it.

With a moment of sharp, almost painful clarity, Buffy realized that this was too much for Dawn, as she had feared – and the job of calming the terrified, trembling vampire on the floor was going to fall to her this time.

Moving slowly toward him, crouching down on the floor in front of him as she neared him, Buffy spoke in a soft, carefully calm voice with just a slight quaver in it. “Spike – Sweetie – you don’t have to do that…”

As he sensed her coming closer to him, he flinched slightly, leaning backward a bit in an unconscious desire for distance.

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, reaching out to gently take his hand. “It’s all right – I’m not gonna hurt you, Spike…come on…get up…”

She took his other hand as well, and cautiously rose to her feet, pulling him gently with her. Obediently he rose from his subservient position on the floor – and Buffy did not miss his wince of pain as he straightened his battered knees, more severely bruised than the rest of his legs, and sat down on the sofa as she directed him.

Buffy found her thoughts darkening again as she thought of what she would like to do to the person who had forced him to spend enough time on his knees on the cold stone of the cave where she had found him, to have caused so much damage to them.

Spike was shaking violently beside her, obviously having no idea what to expect from her, as she continued softly talking to him, reassuring him with her tone, rather than her words, as she gently put her arms around him, running her hand cautiously up and down his bandaged back in a soothing gesture. He flinched slightly at first – but then went still under her tentative embrace, though his back was still rigid with fear.

“Shhh,” she whispered as she felt his shaking start to subside a bit at last. “That’s it…it’s okay, Spike…it’s all right…not gonna hurt you…” Buffy felt tears streaming down her face, falling onto his shoulder, as she held him, whispering near his ear, “I know you’re scared – I know you have to be so confused right now – and you have no reason to trust me at all – but I promise you, Spike, I’m *never* gonna hurt you again…please…please let me help you, Spike…”

She felt him jump slightly, as if startled, and she reluctantly released her hold on him, allowing him to pull back away from her slowly. She frowned, puzzled by his intent gaze, focused forward and downward, seeing nothing, as he raised a hand to his shoulder, bringing his fingertips away wet with her tears.

When he cautiously reached out a hand in the general direction of her face – Buffy understood. A hard lump forming in her throat, as her eyes welled with new tears, she gently took his hand and guided it to her dampened cheek, pressing it gently against her warm skin.

And then – it happened.

The vampire before her, crushed to the point that he bore little resemblance to the one she had known, tilted his head to the side in a speculative way, those piercing blue eyes filled with concern, seeming to see right through her, though she knew he could see nothing at all – not with them. And in that moment, for just the briefest instant, she could see a little spark – just the slightest flicker – of the old Spike, the one she had known, in his expression.

It was enough to draw out the sob she had been holding back, wrenching it from her throat as she bowed her head, crying softly as the vampire instinctively ran his hand down her cheek in a comforting gesture – just as he had done in the cave, when he had realized that she was hurting.

*My Spike,* she thought tenderly, a wave of regret rolling over her. *Always thinking of me – no matter how bad you’re hurting…oh, my Spike…*

Gently, she wrapped her arms around him again, pulling him to her – and he tensed for a moment…but then relaxed within her embrace, lowering his head to her shoulder. And after a moment, Buffy felt a cool moisture soaking through the shoulder of her blouse, felt the heaving of his shoulders as he allowed his own tears to flow again.

She just held onto him, crying, and allowing him to cry, for what felt like moments – but she knew that it was actually longer. When his tears seemed to ebb, Buffy cautiously raised her head, still holding him close to her, to look at her sister, speaking softly as she did.

“Dawnie – this is too much for you, it’s okay, Sweetie – I think I’ve got…”

Her voice trailed off as she looked up, to see that the couch was empty except for herself and Spike – her little sister had already fled the scene.

She hesitated just a moment, concern for Dawn warring with her need to care for Spike – and then decided.

A bit of time alone might be just what Dawn needed at the moment.

And as for Spike – what *he* needed at the moment – was her.
 
<<     >>