Chapter 6
 
“Oh god, Spike. Where could he be? If something has happened to him…”
 
“Shh. Easy, pet. You’ll find him. But you need to calm down; you won’t be any good to him in this state.” He tried to soothe his mate, reaching out to stroke her hair only to have her pull roughly away.
 
Green eyes flashed angrily, turning their focus on the unsuspecting vampire. “And what state would that be, Spike? Are you saying I can’t do my job?” Buffy lashed out. She was terrified; she knew what Angelus had done to Jenny, and to countless others over the years. Visions of Giles’ mutilated corpse played through her mind in bright, bold technicolour, leaving her feeling helpless. With no idea of what to do or where to start, she did the only thing she could—she turned furiously on her lover. “This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made him leave. If you had…”
 
“What? Let him stay and take notes? ‘s that really what you wanted?” Spike offered, eyes flashing amber and then back to cold, flinty blue. He stepped forward quickly and folded her close in his arms, pinning her against his chest like a spitting, snarling wildcat. He sighed deeply, releasing the bitterness her words had aroused. “Buffy, you know you don’t mean any of it. Now come on, kitten, stop this and let’s work out how to get your Watcher back.” He planted soft kisses against her hair and held on until her struggles ceased and she relaxed into him, all the fight and impotent fury draining from her body.
 
“I’m sorry, Spike,” Buffy said as she sagged against him.
 
“Yeah, well, don’t have time for that right now, Slayer. Not if you’re wantin’ to find your watcher.”
 
Buffy felt his body tense against her. The sharp tone in his voice and the firm set of his jaw spoke volumes as to the damage she had inflicted. She ached to make things right with him, but he was right—they didn’t have time. It would just have to keep until later.
 
*****
 
Giles’ hair hung limp and wet across his face; his back stung from numerous cuts and welts, his muscles aching from continued strain and uncontrollable shivering. The broken ribs throbbed, his every movement causing them to grind mercilessly. He had been hosed several times, the cold water hitting him in harsh stinging jets like thousands of needles piercing his skin. The thin flexible cane, expertly applied, had left stinging trails across his body. He was tired, sore, and heartsick. Memories lashed at him even more harshly and unforgivingly than the bitter, cruel treatment of his captor.
 
Looking into the cold, angry eyes of the man before him, Giles found himself mourning the loss of the eager youth he had known so long ago. “Ethan…”
 
“No! Don’t ‘Ethan’ me. You did this, you pillock. You. You don’t get to judge me. You left.”
 
“I’m sorry.” Giles’ hushed tone was tinged with deep regret.
 
Ethan spun furiously, whipping the cane around and striking hard across Giles’ cheek; blood welled, and then ran in slow trickles down his face.
 
“You’re sorry. Well, that’s big of you. So tell me, Ripper, do you think that covers it? You say you’re sorry and I just forget? Forget that you walked out? Left me… left everything! For what? A bloody tweed coat and Daddy’s approval? Everything that we… that you stood against…”
 
“We killed someone. Don’t you see, I couldn’t… I had to leave.” Giles was weary, not merely from the hours of torture and abuse, but from the weight of too many years of pain and guilt that despite his every effort he had been unable to exorcise.
 
*****
 
Buffy re-entered the bedroom, rapidly towelling her hair before struggling still-damp legs into her jeans. She watched silently, a small frown creasing her face as Spike slammed open drawers, rummaging through them and muttering quietly to himself. He looked gorgeous; he was clad once again in his skin-tight black jeans, bare-chested, his skin damp from his recent shower, soft, damp curls adorning his head as he stormed around the room, searching haphazardly through her watcher’s belongings. A fresh string of what she was pretty sure were curses tumbled from his lips as he finally pulled a white t-shirt from a drawer. He sneered in disgust and pulled it quickly over his head.
 
“Hey, that’s Giles’ shirt! Spike, you can’t just wear his clothes,” Buffy protested.
 
“Yeah? Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you went an’ slayed mine,” he smirked, prowling towards her, his eyes pinning her in place. She swallowed hard, her tongue snaking out to dampen suddenly dry lips as he reached for her. Spike took the towel from her hands. “Let me help you with that,” he purred, his lips twitching at her soft disappointed moan when he moved to her back and gently but vigorously dried the soft golden tresses.
 
“So, what’s the plan, love?” he breathed against her ear.
 
“Huh?”
 
“Your watcher. How you plannin’ on finding him?” The scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, somewhat mollifying his lingering resentment at her earlier treatment of him. Spike realised that no matter how gratifying, now was probably not the time to be getting the slayer all hot; regretfully, he turned the sex-appeal down a notch or two.
 
“Well, slayer?” he urged, dropping the towel and finger combing the almost-dry locks into place.
 
Buffy sighed and turned to face him. “I don’t know, Spike. I just know I have to try.” He pretended not to see the slight quiver in her bottom lip, or the fear shining brightly in her eyes. She was The Slayer, and she needed to be strong; he wasn’t going be doing her any favours by mollycoddling her.
 
“Well, you need to think, pet. Where would he go? Who might know where he’d be?” He watched the uncertainty lift as her mind kicked into gear, a small frown creasing her brow as she ran through possibilities.
 
“Ok. Well, first I guess I’ll call around, see if Will or Xander have heard from him. If that doesn’t work, I get to go beat up Willy; even if he doesn’t know anything, at least it will make me feel a bit better.”
 
She grabbed the phone and started dialling, plonking herself down on the bed as she waited for the other person to pick up. Spike watched silently as she phoned around, grilling her friends for any information that might help her find the missing watcher. He schooled his features, appearing completely relaxed and at ease, leaning almost indolently against the wall; looks, however, could be very deceiving. Spike watched as the slayer’s bare breasts bounced lightly as she talked animatedly to her friends, and he fought the tightly sprung coil of energy within; he wanted to pace, or better yet to rip the phone out of the girl’s hand, throw her back on the bed and make her forget all about her bleeding ponce of a watcher. Instead he waited, the picture of indifference, while she completed her calls.
 
*****
 
“What I see is someone who sold out to the very thing he professed to hate. Someone I trusted, who I was stupid enough to think would never betray me; someone who up and left in the middle of the night without so much as a Dear bloody John letter. I trusted you.”
 
“I’m s…”
 
“No! I told you I don’t want to hear ‘I’m sorry’.” The muscle in Ethan’s cheek twitched as his jaw clenched in barely restrained fury.
 
Frustration, exhaustion, and the strain of continued pain and years of regrets and what-if’s finally caused him to snap. “Well, what do you want to hear? What else am I supposed to say? I am sorry. You think I’m not? You think it was easy for me to walk away? Well, it wasn’t. I left because of what we—what I did. Don’t you see I had to?” He sought his captor’s eyes, holding them steadily. “I couldn’t risk destroying you, too. I was trying to protect you.” The last was spoken in a heartbroken whisper, his eyes drifting closed as his head hung in misery. There were many regrets in his life, some recent, some not so—but the man before him represented the greatest of all his regrets rolled neatly into one lean and still, to his eyes, beautifully handsome package.
 
Long moments passed as he waited silently for the next round of beatings to begin. He deserved them; he knew that, and in some dark recess of his brain he welcomed them as just payment for the foolish, arrogant, ignorant deeds of his youth. He had tried over the years to make up, in some small way at least, for the suffering he had caused, but no matter what he did he could never fully atone—not for releasing unspeakable evil into this world, not for the death of friends, and never for the betrayal of one whom he loved. It occurred to him that all he ever did was bring pain and suffering to those he loved. Ethan. Jenny. And then there was his latest betrayal—placing the daughter of his heart into the hands and bed of a cold-blooded murderer. A shudder racked his body and a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh sounded in his ears, it was a few moments before he realised that he was responsible for the strange, demented sound.
 
Gentle fingers traced his cheek, cupping his chin and forcing him to lift his head. His eyes fluttered open as soft lips brushed gently against his in the barest whisper of a caress. Giles watched in wonder as Ethan carefully undid the manacles, taking care not to disturb the broken, bruised skin any more than was necessary. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, supporting him as he made his way slowly and painfully across the room to the door. There, the last his strength deserted him, and he sagged gratefully into one of the hard wooden chairs.
 
*****
 
No one had heard from him, nor did they have any idea who or even if he had any friends in town. Buffy had quickly finished dressing and headed out into the bright, sunny afternoon to search the town, leaving one severely pissed off vampire glaring furiously in the direction of the sun from the safety of the shaded doorway.
 
Hours had passed, and Spike had all but worn a track in the carpet as he paced frantically, waiting either for the sun to set or for Buffy to come home. He didn’t like being separated from her; somehow he knew she was alright, knew that he would feel something if she was in danger or hurt, but knowing that didn’t make the wait any easier. As the afternoon wore on, his worry had increased exponentially, resulting in his current caged-panther impersonation.
 
So it was that when Buffy finally made her way back to her watcher’s house, none the wiser for her afternoon of searching, she stepped through the door only to be engulfed in the tight, smothering embrace of an extremely distraught master vampire.
 
“Spike. Can’t breathe.” She squirmed in his arms, pushing back against his chest as she fought for air.
 
Spike released his death-grip on her, looking somewhat abashed as he muttered quietly, “’m sorry, love. Was just getting worried about you, is all. Don’t like you being out there, maybe needing some help, an’ I’m stuck inside like some useless bloody git waitin’ for the sun to go down.”
 
“It’s ok, Spike. It’s kinda nice that you were worried about me.” A small giggle escaped her lips, and at Spike’s glare and inquiringly raised eyebrow she added, “although I think that is the closest you have ever actually come to killing me. Maybe you should have started worrying about me months ago.”
 
At his growl, she squeaked and took off running for the stairs, only to be caught up once again before she had gone more than a few steps. “No fair using vampire speed,” she laughed as he lifted her off her feet, his lips and blunt teeth worrying at her neck as he continued to growl softly. She relaxed back against him, allowing her head to drop back against his shoulder as her hands snaked up to tangle in the soft blonde curls. She felt him change seconds before his sharp fangs pierced her skin, burying deep into her neck. He took a long deep pull of her blood, her soft moan of pleasure assuring him that she understood that the bite was not intended to harm in anyway. Withdrawing his fangs, he licked gently at the small wounds, closing and healing them before nuzzling into her. “Missed you, kitten. Don’t like not knowing if you’re alright.”
 
She rubbed her cheek gently against his, enjoying the contact and realising that she had missed him too. “So that was like, what? A lovebite?” she asked, keeping her tone light and stroking his hair gently.
 
“Pretty much, yeah.” He set her on her feet and turned her gently until she faced him. “You ok with that?” he asked cautiously.
 
Buffy’s million-watt smile surprised him as she nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah, more than ok! You just might want to watch when you do it… you know, maybe not such a good idea in front of people.” Her smile faded and her face turned serious as she reached out, cupping his cheek and running her thumb rhythmically along his cheekbone. “Spike. Earlier, I… I was wrong. I had no right treating you like that.” She looked up into his eyes, hoping for forgiveness, for his strong arms around her and his voice telling her that it was ok.
 
“Yeah, Buffy, you were.” His jaw twitched beneath her fingers and his eyes hardened at her reminder. “I know you were upset, an’ scared… but you don’t take it out on me. We clear on that? I’m not your whipping-boy, pet. ‘m not your punching bag, or your pet bloody vampire you take out for walks when it suits you. I’m your mate. Nothin’ is gonna change that, but it’s up to you what that means. We did what your watcher wanted, so we’re done, no need for you to have to put up with me touchin’ you any more.” Her sharply indrawn breath, increased heart-rate and the slight tremble of her lip told him what her body’s answer was; now he just needed to see what came out of that pretty little mouth. “If you want the whole deal, ‘m yours, Buffy. But I won’t be your dirty little secret either; if we’re together, pet, we’re together. You follow me?”
 
She knew what he was offering her—a get-out-of-jail-free—and it was up to her if she wanted to take it. She also knew that, even if she opted for the out, he would still be there, would help her. But there would be no smoochies, none of the soft touches or mind blowing kisses and definitely none of the… other. And oh God, how she wanted the other.  And him, she realised; it was him she wanted.
 
“I follow, Spike.” Her fingers continued along his cheekbone to the back of his head and tangled deep in the curls she had quickly come to adore. Reaching up on tip-toe, she traced his lips softly with hers before capturing them fully in a deep, longing kiss.

tbc
 
Days of Blood and Wine Series (Giles/Ethan series for more of their backstory)

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