Banner by Vampkiss

Chapter 44

“She still won’t come in?” Mrs. Wadsworth asked.

The cook lifted the curtains covering the window overlooking the back lawns. She shook her head in the negative replying, “Nope. Still sittin’ smack dab in the middle of the gardens allowin’ the sunlight to pour down on her head. Poor li’l lamb.” She sighed, allowing the curtain to shield the window once more.

“Don’t know why she won’t come inside,” the housekeeper commented. “The master would make her feel better.”

The Marquess’ valet had relayed the horrid condition of their mistress, the dark bruises that covered her neck, the tears she’d been unable to stem. Why she sat out where she knew her husband couldn’t reach her was anyone’s guess.

“How’s he taking it?” Mrs. Cremshaw inquired of the housekeeper.

A crash sounding from another part of the house seemed to answer her question, and the two women cringed at the cursing easily heard from the study. A moment later, the door opened to the kitchen and Higgins, the butler, appeared. His normally stoic face absent in the face of their master’s ire.

“Please tell me she’s given up this foolishness and has come inside?” the man begged.

Both women showed him sympathetic expressions. Under normal circumstances, they’d have taken much delight in teasing the butler for his less than dignified demeanor. But these weren’t normal times, and his position as butler put him at the forefront of the master vampire’s rage.

“Well, would one of you go out there and bring her inside,” he implored when they replied in the negative.

“He’d have our hides if one of us dared touch her,” Mrs. Wadsworth pointed out.

“He’s gonna have my hide if she doesn’t come inside soon,” Higgins muttered. He cursed the fates that made today, of all days, an unusually bright and sunny day in London . Where was the fog and dreary rain when you needed it?

~*~*~*~*~

Spike barely noticed the shambles that was his study, his entire focus centered on the girl that refused to come in out of the sun.

He’d woken the instant he felt her rage through his claim, and in an instant, he’d known where she’d gone. Then her pain enveloped him, though it had been a distant second to the anger still churning through her system. But, he’d felt it. Knew it had to be one of the humans causing it…thus guaranteeing the death of whoever it might be by the master vampire’s own hands. No one laid a finger on what was his. No one! Hurriedly throwing on clothes with the intention of racing to Whitt’s, he’d growled his frustration when he was brought up short by the glaring rays of the early morning sun.

It hadn’t helped his mood one bit, and he’d retreated to the study to plot out all the things he was going to do to the human that had dared to touch the Slayer while he waited for her return. So intent on his task, her heartache and despair barely registered with him. Finally, he felt her approach and waited for the moment his study doors would burst open and she’d fling herself at him, desperate to be comforted – he’d actually looked forward to it, liking how the gesture made him feel.

Only, the doors hadn’t opened.

When he’d found out she’d plopped herself down smack dab in the middle of the garden, using the sun as an invisible shield to keep him away from her, he’d gone ballistic. And he hadn’t been nice about it, tugging at the tethers of his claim to bring her to his side until he knew her skin had to be on fire. But still she’d resisted, and that’s when the vampire had started trashing things.

Nothing had been free from the brunt of his anger.

Now, in the aftermath of the destruction, he waited. The grandfather clock – that had miraculously evaded annihilation – ticked off the minutes until sunset in the otherwise silent room. His staff wisely left him alone as he stewed in his temper…

…and waited.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy felt his approach and didn’t bother to run away. She’d known the moment the sun dipped beyond the horizon he’d be out the door. That he’d come the second the gardens had been shaded in shadows showed how mad he was.

But, that was ok.

Right now she needed his anger. Anything to take her mind off the uncertainty she was feeling.

“Wanna explain to me what you’re doing out here, pet?”

Oh yeah, he was pissed. That voice was too calm for him to be anything but. She imagined if she were to raise her head and look at him, she’d see a clenched jaw where he struggled not to yell, his amber gaze boring into hers, the ridges of his brow prominent… too far gone to bother restraining his demon.

“Better answer me, Slayer, or I’ll turn you over my knee right here, and to hell with who may be watching,” Spike growled, anger mounting at her continued silence.

Head still bent, she opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a faint squeak; her throat was swollen from where the human had tried to choke her to death and the anxiety that had built as she’d ensured the humans’ death with her actions made it impossible to get anything past her lips.

Buffy lifted her head to look at her husband, her eyes begging him to understand her conflicted emotions. She’d no idea how bad the bruising on her neck was, but seeing the way Spike’s amber gaze almost glowed with seething rage, they had to be bad.

For the first time in his unlife, Spike was struck speechless. Her neck was a mangled mess of black, blue, and purple bruises from where someone had wrapped their meaty fist around her and squeezed. That she still lived and breathed was proof that being the Slayer endowed her with certain strength… as well as healing abilities.

He’d known she’d been in pain, but her anger at the time had eclipsed what she’d obviously gone through. Spike lifted his hand to finger the marks, assure himself as to their voracity. Though his touch was gentle, he still saw her flinch and almost left her standing there as his demon raged within to right the insult done him.

And, if she’d not looked on the verge of collapsing he would have.

Grumbling under his breath, he swept her up into his arms and left the garden. The door to the kitchens seemed to open automatically as his staff fell over themselves to aid master and mistress. Their shocked gasps on finally getting a gander at her forced him to, once again, stifle the urge to exact his revenge right then. Barking out orders, he hurried through the room and into the hallway, taking the stairs two and three at a time to reach the master bedroom.

The door stood open and the sounds of water being poured into a tub drifted out to him as he walked down the hallway. Before he reached the door, several male servants exited his room carrying empty buckets.

“I took the liberty of having m’lady’s bath prepared here. Heather is waiting in her room to see to her needs, I’ve only to call her,” Travis told the Marquess as he stepped inside the room.

“No.”

“As you wish, m’lord,” he replied, adding, “I’ve toiletries and towels laid out.”

He’d seen the bruises on his mistress’ neck as well as her tear-streaked face and knew she’d be wanting a bath once she came home. He’d paced the master bedchamber after seeing to the horses and carriage, his travels often taking him by the window to watch as the Marchioness sat amongst the greenery, shoulders hunched over while she cried. She’d confused him, closeting herself off from the vampire and sitting in the sunlight, not coming inside to seek the comforting touch of her husband.

He’d sprung into action the moment the vampire had slipped outside to put an end to her foolishness, taking it upon himself to have a bath drawn here in the master suite rather than the Marchioness’ room. Travis had figured on his master’s possessiveness and his terse negative had confirmed it; he’d not be letting anyone else touch her just yet. Not even her maid.

“M’lord?”

“What is it, Travis?” he barked out, impatient to get the Slayer out of her clothes and into the bath.

“I’ve liniment...for the swelling.” He gestured with his hand towards his own neck. “It’s made for the horses, but ‘m guessin’ it should do the trick. Smells a bit, but…”

Spike nodded, effectively dismissing the man. The valet took the hint and moved off.

“Travis?” the vampire called out as his man reached the door.

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Thanks.”

The valet smiled and slipped silently from the room.

~*~*~*~*~

After his man left, Spike set the Slayer down on her feet and practically shredded the dingy gown and undergarments before placing her in the tub. A minute later, he slid in behind her, pulling her back against him. She turned on her side, wrapping her arms around his back as she laid her head against his bare chest.

“Wanna tell me why you ventured a trip to Whitt’s…alone?”

Though his tone was soft, there was no mistaking the underlying steel.

“I was going to let them go…well…at least I thought that’s what I was going there for,” Buffy told him honestly, her voice low, barely a whisper, as her throat muscles protested their use. “I’m not sure.”

She felt him stiffen beneath her, but he wasn’t growling, so she took that as a sign to continue.

“I just…I’m the Slayer, Spike. I can’t help that. So…I was going to go down there. Give them a chance. I knew you’d be able to find them easy enough, but at least I’d done something, ya know?”

“What stopped you? I‘m assumin’ they’re still locked up in the dungeon?”

“They did. It was like…I dunno. Spike, they were evil. I could feel it! And what they said…” She shivered in memory, and took comfort in the arms that tightened about her. “I was so angry. I taunted them…Walked right up to where they were leaning against the bars and mocked them for being locked in a cage, awaiting death.”

“Nuthin’ wrong with a li’l taunting, pet.”

Buffy lifted her head and looked Spike in the eyes. “You don’t understand. I did it on purpose. I wanted to anger them…piss them off enough to strike. And they didn’t disappoint. If I’d not been the Slayer…”

There was no stopping the growl this time.

“But, even with his hand squeezing my neck, I still taunted him. He had the nerve to call me a monster when I practically broke his wrist. Me! A monster!” She barked out a laugh, the sound pitiful even to her own ears. Buffy looked away and lay back against Spike, her cheek once more resting upon his chest.

“He was right though,” she confessed. “I am a monster.”

“Oh, pet. You’re not a monster.”

“Yes, I am…I’m gonna let them die, Spike. And a part of me…a part of me actually wants them to. To pay for what they did to Mrs. Rothworth.”

“Still doesn’t make you a monster,” he murmured into her hair.

“No? Then what does it make me?”

“Human, pet. It makes you human.”

Neither said another word as Spike went through the motions of getting the Slayer cleaned up and into bed. The adrenaline that had been rushing through her system in the wake of her confrontation with the humans had dissipated, and the lack of sleep had finally caught up with her. Buffy smothered a yawn as he settled her in bed, pulling the covers up over her shoulders.

Spike brushed the hair out of her face and leaned down to give her a kiss.

“Ever stop to think that this is what the Powers wanted, luv?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just sayin’… they’ve got you claimed by a vamp. Hell, practically all your friends are vamps. And there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for you…an’ I don’t think it’s all because of me either.”

“So…what?”

“Maybe it’s part of this destiny thing—”

“That I’m what, supposed to live with vampires?”

“You already do that, pet.”

“You know what I mean,” Buffy grumbled.

“Well, truth be told…bloody hell! Why didn’t I see it?”

Spike jumped off the bed and started pacing.

“See what?” Buffy asked, sitting up.

“We’ve managed to form our own sect within the Aurelius clan,” he told her, drawing to a halt. “All that’s lackin’ is the blood.”

“Blood? What blood?”

“I’ll explain later.” Spike walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Buffy was all set to argue with him. She really was. But, another wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she laid her head back upon the pillows.

Spike resettled the covers once more, brushed a kiss over her temple and was gone.

next

REVIEW ME!