Banner by Selene

Chapter 11: The Confrontation

The Outskirts of Rome

‘Everything is going exactly as planned. The slayer suspects nothing more than an additional attack on her little group tonight. It’s a shame she got a look at my face, though. Oh well, it doesn’t matter,’ he thought. Slipping the hood of his cloak down off his head, Damius made his way back towards his temporary living quarters. Black orbs briefly flicked red.

Before leaving to confront the slayer, Damius had liberally applied the potion he had made to the sword he now carried in his hands. All he had needed to do was break the skin in order for the potion to mix with her blood. Then, he just had to sit back and wait as the poison slowly seeped through the slayer’s bloodstream, eventually killing her. With her slayer healing it may take a bit longer, but she was no match against the poison now working its way through her body. In the end, she would die, and along with her, all the other slayers. ‘Except Faith,’ he thought. ‘Then there will be only one.’

~*~*~*~*~

Rome

Spike swept through the front door held open for him by Lionna.

“Someone bring me the first aid kit. The rest of you go to bed. And, be quiet. I don’t want the ‘Bit waking up.”

He made quick work of climbing the stairs, careful not to jar Buffy as he headed for her room. He nudged the partially open bedroom door with his foot, sending it swinging inward, then walked over to the bed. Gently, he leaned over and he laid Buffy down on top of the covers. Standing back up, his eyes scanned over her body quickly inventorying her injuries. Her face was pale, probably due to shock. Blood covered the front of her shirt spilling over onto her arms where she was holding them over the front of her wound, trying to stem the blood flow. Just then, Kat walked in bearing the first aid kit.

“Here you go, Spike,” she whispered, handing him the kit. “Do you want me to stay and help?”

“No, we’ll be fine. The slayer’s been through worse than this scratch.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t entirely believe them. Something about the attack just didn’t sit right with him. The vampires were too inept, that mysterious cloaked dude was too focused on his slayer. Pushing his wayward thoughts aside, he took the first aid kit over to Buffy and set about getting her taken care of. Kat quietly shut the bedroom door behind her, letting the vampire tend to Buffy alone.

She was still conscious as she lay there on the bed. Spike set the kit down on the bed. “Let’s have us a look-see, luv.”

Reluctantly, Buffy removed her arms from her wound. Spike pulled out the dagger he kept hidden in his boot, and with painstaking care, slit the front of her shirt from neck to hem. The shirt parted to reveal an eight-inch cut just above her belly button. Blood continued to ooze out of the wound. Spike grabbed some gauze and used it to apply pressure to the wound. After a few minutes, he lifted the gauze away from her body to get a better look. ‘Not as deep as I thought,' he thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “I’m gonna have to stitch this up, luv.”

Buffy just closed her eyes and gave a weak nod. Spike reached into the kit and grabbed the antiseptic and some more gauze. He liberally doused the gauze then applied it to her wound. Her breath left her in a “whoosh” as tears sprung unshed to her eyes. Spike lifted his gaze from the task at hand to look at Buffy. Watery eyes looked at her, a silent apology in his gaze. He left the antiseptic-filled gauze on the wound and rummaged in the kit for needle and thread. Once the needle was threaded, he poured antiseptic over it. Spike removed the gauze from the wound and set about stitching his slayer up. Buffy never made a sound, but he could feel each jab of the needle through her skin right in his unbeating heart. Spike, for his part, tried to work as quickly and as efficiently as possible. Once finished with his task, he had her sit up so he could wrap a dressing around her stitches.

When he was finished with the bandage, Spike scooped Buffy up into his arms and placed her on the chair. He walked back to the bed and quickly stripped the blood-soaked sheets. Grabbing a fresh set from the closet, he remade the bed. Backtracking to the chair he once more picked Buffy in his arms. Gingerly, so as not to jostle her wound, he laid her back down on the freshly made bed. He reached down to remove her boots, then her pants. He tucked the covers carefully around her shoulders then leaned down to brush the hair off her forehead.

“I’ll be right back, luv.” She just nodded and closed her eyes, letting sleep finally overtake her.

Spike stood up and grabbed the discarded clothes and linens. He threw them in the hamper on the way to the bathroom. Stripping down to his bare skin, he took a quick shower to rid himself of the slayer’s blood and the dirt and grime from the battle. He emerged from the shower and wrapped a towel around his lean hips. Cutting the light off in the bathroom, he made his way back into the bedroom. Spike crossed to the nightstand that had the light on, and clicked it off, then walked around to the other side of the bed and eased himself between the sheets. Carefully, he spooned himself up to Buffy’s side, sliding his arm under her neck and placing the other on her hip. She sighed in her sleep and relaxed back into his embrace. He held her while she slept, reliving the battle in his mind, trying to figure out what was nagging him. Towards dawn, he gave up and drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

She sat on a rock staring at the flames of the fire burning before her. A shadowy figure moved in and out behind the flames, crouching on her haunches. She couldn’t tell what it was. Hints of a woman, dreadlocks, a painted face.

‘I…I'm sorry, I…I'm just a little confused. I'm full of love, which is nice, and ... love will lead me to my gift?’

‘Yes.’

‘I'm getting a gift? Or, or do you mean that, that I have a gift to give to someone else?’

‘Death is your gift.’

‘Death…’

‘Is your gift.’

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