Summary: Spike is killing himself, Buffy must figure out why.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: pepper@pepperverse.net
Chapter 1
The first time it happened, it was an accident. Spike had stumbled into his crypt after a hard night of fighting and drinking, and collapsed on the floor. Right below the window. He woke up to the searing pain of his arm bursting into flame from the rising sun. Cursing and stumbling, he frantically beat the flame out. It was only afterwards, when he was cradling his crisped arm and nursing his pain with a bottle of tequila that he realized that for a short time he didn’t feel the mental and emotional torment that had been his constant companion for nearly a month.
Spike liked physical pain. Always had. He enjoyed violence and he never shied away from pain. He knew how to handle the physical part. He knew how to revel in it, turn it into pleasure. Pain was his gift for over a century, and he learned how to enjoy receiving as well as inflicting.
But he didn’t know how to deal with the pain of a broken heart. He didn’t know how to deal with the pain of being rejected. He didn’t know how to deal with the pain of being completely alone, without even a single minion to do his bidding. He was rejected by the demons and by the humans. He was alone. And it hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced.
But the flames forced the pain away temporarily, and Spike welcomed the respite. Fighting didn’t give him the same relief, it couldn’t. There were very few demons who could even get a punch in, much less match his frenzied state of anger and pain as he dealt out blow after punishing blow. It didn’t even help to beat the vampires to a bloody pulp. Not that he could anymore.
The Slayer had taken that away from him too. She caught him fighting one night while she was patrolling and immediately assumed he was following her. She pounded on him until he understood that she never wanted to see him again. Then sent him on his way. Spike didn’t mind the beating, and normally he would happily risk it in order to continue to his violent tendencies. But it hurt too much to see her, so he dropped it.
And it hurt too much to leave.
So there he sat in his crypt, night after night, only leaving to go to the Willy’s to buy more blood and booze and to pick a few fights. Then his hand caught on fire and Spike finally understood how to make his heart stop hurting.
Spike sat on the end of bed, looking at the bottle of holy water and the cross beside him. He carefully picked up the holy water first, and slowly untwisted the lid. He was naked, bathed in the dim light of a few candles, staring intently at the water. Looking into the water, he thought back to that night.
He was waiting for her by the tree like had done every night for months. They would patrol and usually end up back at his crypt and make love. Correction, Spike would try to make love, but Buffy woulHe had no real way of knowing. He didn’t have a clock or a calendar, and he knew here was no way he could climb the stairs to find out what time of day it was. What did it matter anyway?
He looked at his unmarred thighs and frowned. That would never do. He reached for the cross first, barely noticed the sharp pain that started in his hand and shot up his arm. With thoughtful precision he began making patterns on his flesh using the cross. It occurred to him that when he regained his strength enough to leave his crypt it would be interesting to buy several more crosses. He wondered absently as the skin on this thigh sizzled and bubbled if silver crosses hurt as badly as wooden ones did.
After nearly an hour of the work, Spike looked approvingly at his handy work. There was very little pale flesh visible, almost all of it covered in burns. He was almost dizzy and giddy from the pain, and he paused long enough to down almost an entire bottle of whiskey. No reason to not add a buzz to his pain induced stupor.
“Which one of you will do me in first? It’s a race between the booze and the pain,” Spike mumbled past painfully swollen lips and a burnt tongue. The whiskey didn’t help, and Spike grimaced, vaguely remembering gargling holy water right before he passed out.
Spike reached for his cigarettes and lit one up. He watched the flame dance, full of heat, offering comfort and destruction. That made him think of Buffy—his beautiful slayer who could be so deadly and so gentle. How he wanted for her to be happy. He would have done anything to make her happy, including staying away from her and the Bit, even if it was killing him.
Spike finished the bottle of whiskey and used the lighter to burn the tips of his fingers. The fingers that had touched her. The fingers that weren’t good enough to be near her light, much less caressing it. The fingers that should be punished for their transgressions and sins against nature.
The combination of the pain, the alcohol, and the lack of blood forced Spike back into a deep sleep. Almost unconscious, he drifted away from the pain.
///////
“Since when did Spike ever listen to anything I said?” Buffy muttered under her breath, angrily.
She marched to his crypt, fully prepared to beat the shit out of him and demand to know where had been for the past month. She had counted on him for someone to talk to, to spar with, something to break up the endless monotony of his days. But he never showed up.
She asked around and found out that he was neither dead nor out of town. Willy reported seeing him a couple times a week, buying all kinds of alcohol and blood. He also said that he usually left after picking a few fights. Which probably meant he had spent the majority of time in his crypt.
She saw him one night, but he didn’t respond to her, just looked at her with a dazed and hurt expression and ran off into the night. She was very confused by his reaction. But after that night, she never saw him out again. Her job also became harder because he didn’t have her back and wasn’t spending time thinning the herd, so to speak. She was surprised to find out how much she depended on him.
When she finally arrived at his crypt she noticed that it was very quiet. The upstairs area looked very unused, the top of the TV cold. “Spike?” She called, tentatively.
There was no response.
A bittersweet smell wafted up from the tunnels below, and curious, she went down the ladder. It was very dark, not a single candle was burning. But she knew that he was there, she could smell him. And blood.
She carefully lit a few candles and moved towards the bed, then gasped in horror and revulsion. His once perfect, lean, pale body was covered from head to toe in disgusting burns and deep gashes. The sheets were covered in blood and she couldn’t tell where his body ended and the bed began. A stake stuck out fd only fuck. She didn’t want anything gentle or loving. She wanted to treat him like the animal she saw him as.
He stood outside, smoking a cigarette, waiting patiently. He noticed that the entire Scoobie gang was there and through the window he saw Buffy enter the living room. The window was open, and of course, Spike caught everything.
“But it’s **Spike**! How could you be sleeping with Spike?” Xander demanded.
Buffy shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“Buffy, we understand that you’ve been through a lot. We do. But how could you sleep with him?” Willow asked, concern all over her face.
“He says he loves me,” Buffy offered lamely. I do! I do! Spike thought desperately.
“He doesn’t love anybody, Buffy,” Giles chimed in. “He’s an animal. A somewhat intelligent animal, but an animal all the same.”
“I know,” Buffy responded, and Spike heard his heart break.
“Well do you regret it? Are you sorry?” Xander asked.
She doesn’t have to answer to you Spike wanted to yell. How could they treat her like that? After everything she’s been through, they treat her like a child to stupid to think for herself.
“I’m sorry for every second,” she answered evenly.
“Why didn’t you stop then?” Willow asked, still in a gentle tone.
“Because I’m sick and wrong,” Buffy said, choking back a sob. Spike punched the tree with all his strength, sick and furious at what they were making her feel.
“No, no, Honey, you’re not,” Willow assured her, hugging her friend. “We forgive you.”
Spike didn’t want to hear anymore. Those ungrateful ponces forgave her?
“Are you going to see him again?” Giles asked.
“We were going to patrol tonight. He’ll probably be outside soon…I’ll wait for him and tell him.”
But Spike didn’t want to hear it, so he stalked off into the night and spent two days getting completely shitfaced, drinking anything and everything. He would have drunk paint thinner and antifreeze if he couldn’t find any alcohol.
Buffy, impatient and unable to find him, finally just left him a note in his crypt.
“Spike, it’s over. I don’t want to see you again. Don’t come near me or Dawn.”
Now the memories were threatening to consume him and he couldn’t take it anymore. With unsteady hands he poured the holy water across his thigh and down his leg, not stopping until the bottle was empty. He dropped it and gasped and screamed in pain, but also reveled in it. He watched his skin burn and pucker with an odd fascination, hoping that it would never end.
But eventually it did. Spike shrugged, no matter. He had a long night of self-inflicted torture planned. He figured he could keep it up until he passed out from the pain. An attractive prospect.
////////
Spike woke up in a pool of his own blood. The burns from the holy water were already beginning to heal. The long gashes on his chest and arm from the sharp knife were scabbing over, but a few of them still oozed. The marks from the crosses—all ranging in size and severity—would be there for awhile, he knew. He felt woozy and lightheaded from the loss of blood. Several of his self-inflicted wounds still ached and he didn’t mind.
He tried to stand up to get some blood but decided not to. Part of him wondered how long he could keep this up before he simply passed out from lack of blood. He kinda liked the hunger pangs too, so he decided to experiment. How much torment could a vampire take before it became absolutely imperative to feed? Spike didn’t know—he bet his grandsire the Magnificent Poofter knew—but he was willing to find out.
He wondered how long he had been passed out in sweet oblivion. rom his chest, missing his heart by about 3 inches. Another stake was buried in his belly.
“Spike?” She whispered. “Spike, please wake up.” She carefully shook his shoulder, trying not to hurt him, but desperately wanting a reaction from him. When he didn’t even stir, she put the candle down and gritted her teeth. On the count of three she pulled the stake out of stomach and he screamed in pain, opening his eyes wide.
They were dazed and blurry, a dead look in their blue depths. They cleared temporarily when he saw her. “What are you doing here, Slayer?” He asked coldly.
“I’m…I’m here to help you,” she claimed.
He snorted, “Very funny Slayer. Like you give a fuck about me. Now, please, put the stake where you found it and leave me alone.” With that he passed out again.
Ignoring his request, she carefully pulled the other stake out, and waited for a response. But this time he didn’t even flinch, he was truly dead to the world.
“Oh, Spike,” she whispered, “Who did this to you?” She quickly called Giles and within minutes he was at the crypt with Xander, helping Buffy wrap Spike in a blanket.
“What happened?” He asked Buffy. She shrugged.
“Let’s just get him out of here, in case whatever got him comes back. We’ll take him to my house for now and take care of his wounds,” Buffy instructed.
Giles and Xander nodded, not arguing with the obviously distressed slayer. They carefully and quickly bundled him into Giles’ car and drove him straight to Buffy’s. “Go get some blood from the butchers.” She paused and bit her lip, “Also go to Willy’s and see if you can some human blood. He may need it.” She directed once they had safely deposited the injured vampire on her bed.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible,” Giles promised.
“I’ll go see if Willow and Tara could whip something up for these injuries,” Xander offered quietly.
“Thanks Xander.”
Buffy watched her lover intently, grateful that she had found him in time. She couldn’t even fathom how much pain he must have been in, with burns covering almost is entire lower body.
“I’ll take care of you,” she promised quietly. “And we’ll find whoever did this and kill it.”
////
Spike came back to the world slowly, unsure of where he was and confused. Finally the familiar scents hit him and he realized he was in the Slayer’s room. How the hell had that happened, he wondered.
Buffy sat by the bed, staring at him intently, a mug of warm blood in her hands. “Drink this.”
Spike lifted an eyebrow, “Why?”
“Because your weak.”
“So?”
“So? What, you want to starve to death?”
“Why would you care?”
“Just drink it, ok?”
Spike took it from her, only because he understood that the sooner he got his strength back the sooner he could leave. Being near her was more painful than anything he could do to his abused body.
“You should feel better. Willow and Tara did a few spells to help you heal faster.”
Spike nodded, not looking at her. “When you feel better, you can help us find who did this to you.”
“Whatever.” He handed the mug back to her. “I think I want to get some more sleep.”
“Oh, of course. If you need anything, we’re all downstairs.” She left the room, and Spike sighed in relief.
After five minutes he stood up and pulled on the clothes she had thoughtfully left on the chair by the bed. They even grabbed his duster for him. How nice, he thought sarcastically, lowering themselves to take care of an animal.
He quietly opened the bedroom door and used his preternatural hearing to eavesdrop on the conversation below.
“What do you think attacked him?” Buffy asked.
Xander scoffed, “It’s Spike. Everybody’s after that guy.”
Willow nodded, “It seems nobody can stand him.”
“What if it’s someone after us?” Anya asked. “I mean, they know that he was with us all summer.”
“Good point, they have been trying to get information from him on us,” Xander agreed.
“What kind of information?” Tara asked, uncomfortable with the conversation.
Xander waved a hand, “Doesn’t matter. He probably gave them what they were after.”
Buffy nodded, “Which means they may be after us next. We can keep him here until he heals and can tell us who we’re looking for.”
Like hell, Spike thought. I’m out of here. He went back inside Buffy’s room, ignoring the tears falling from his eyes, and easily ducked out the window into the comforting shadows of the night.
Spike knew he couldn’t stay in his crypt. He didn’t want Blondie and the super-friends finding him again. What the hell was with that bitch anyway? First she told him to stay away, and then she came to him and still managed to act like he was the one acting like a jerk.
He stopped in his home long enough to grab some stakes and his other instruments. Seeing her again, hearing what they were saying about them, looking at the pity in her eyes, disgusted and angered and hurt him. He felt like he was breaking inside. When he had everything he needed in a large duffle bag, he turned to the sewers, seeking a quiet and deserted corner for himself.
He wondered around in the perpetual darkness for several hours, using his scent to keep him away from nests. He wasn’t looking for a fight. Not now. Finally he found an old, abandoned cavern that hadn’t been used by anybody—anything—in years. Sighing with relief he dropped his bag and sunk to the floor.
He allowed the tears to fall down his face until he was crying blood, and still he didn’t stop. He wanted to get it all out of his system, but the more he cried the worse it became. He took two stakes out of his bag and turned them over and over in his hands. It would be an easy thing to shove one of them through his heart and POOF, no more Spike. But in spite of all his misery and depression, he still didn’t want to leave the world permanently. Besides, he was a warrior. This was not how he was supposed to die. The Slayer should kill him. NOT Buffy, but the Slayer, a hardened, determined, skilled warrior. Spike resolved to seek her out when he was finally ready to shuffle off this mortal coil.
Positioning the stake below his heart, he shoved it into the soft flesh of his stomach. While he still had the strength he shoved the other one into his side, just below his ribs. Before he passed out he wondered if anything would find him, attracted by the scent of his blood.
////
“What do you mean Spike’s gone?” Xander asked.
Buffy shrugged, “I went upstairs and he wasn’t there.”
“Why would he leave?” Willow asked.
“Maybe he wanted to distract whatever is after him away from Buffy’s house,” Tara suggested quietly.
Xander nodded, “Could be.”
Buffy stayed silent for the rest of the evening, thinking about the vampire. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the wounds were self inflicted. She saw the evidence all over his crypt—most noticeable the LACK of evidence of a struggle. Spike was slowly and thoroughly killing himself.
And she understood instantly that it was because of her. Something had happened to him, but what? “I’m gonna go look for him,” Buffy announced.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Giles asked.
Buffy put her coat on, “Yeah. I need to patrol anyway.”
She went to his crypt first, though she knew that he wouldn’t be there. She entertained the idea of waiting for him until she went to the lower levels and noticed that the stakes, cross, holy water, and knives were gone. Also all of his alcohol—which was a fair amount. Spike was gone and didn’t plan on returning anytime soon. Buffy sighed and felt tears prickling the back of her eyes.
/////
Spike came too slowly and carefully pulled the stakes out of his body. He was sore all over and he didn’t mind. But he decided the next time he passed out it would be because of whiskey, not because of injuries.
**I loved them all so much,** Spike thought sadly. **And they always leave. I wasn’t a good enough man for Cecily, I wasn’t a big enough monster for Dru, and now what does Buffy want from me?**
He took another chug of the fiery liquid and felt it hit his sore belly. **Why am I even still in Sunnyhell? Because I promised I wouldn’t leave her? She probably hasn’t even noticed I’m not in her bedroom. She won’t care if I leave.**
**But you promised,** another voice spoke up. Spike snarled and drowned that annoying voice in another shot of whiskey. He was an animal right? Animals didn’t keep promises. Animals only took care of themselves.
Spike hated himself for the man he was and the demon he had become. He hated himself for being such a pussy and for letting her—them—affect him this way. He hated everything his world and become and everything that it meant. He was disgusted with himself, and there was no amount of alcohol that could change that.
He picked a large knife from the bag and cut his wrists like he was a human committing suicide. The cuts were deep and long and soon the blood was gushing from his body. He fainted again.
////
Spike woke up in the Slayer’s bed. As soon as realized where he was he swore viciously and loudly.
“We’re happy to see you too,” Buffy said quietly.
“How did you find me?”
“Tara did a location spell.”
Spike roared. “Why can’t you bitches leave me the FUCK alone?
Buffy flinched, “I was worried about you.” She pointed at his arms, still oozing blood slightly, “And I can see I had reason to be.”
Spike glared, “Don’t lie to me Slayer.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you want with me, but I’m tired of your lies. So just stop.”
“Spike, I’m not lying…”
“I’m not going to let you treat me like a pet. You can’t just kick me around and except me to come crawling back to you with my tail between my legs.” Spike his legs to the edge of the bed and moved to stand up.
“Spike, please, it’s not like that.”
“Look, you were the one who told me to stay away, so why don’t you just let me go, and we’ll both be happy.”
“I never…”
“Just stake me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I bloody well do,” Spike countered angrily. “Either let me go or stake me.”
“No,” she said, almost inaudible.
“Why the fuck not?”
“Don’t you love me anymore?” She asked, near tears.
Spike looked at her with disgust, hatred in his eyes. “No.”
She reeled back as if slapped, “What?”
“I can’t love somebody who calls me an animal, regrets every second she’s with me, and calls herself sick and wrong for enjoying it,” he ground out.
“You…what are you talking about?”
Spike snorted, “Like you don’t know. God Slayer, I’m not stupid or deaf. I know how much all of you hate me.”
“No. We don’t all hate you. Spike, please, what’s wrong?” She reached for his arm but he quickly pushed her away.
“Spike, please. Something is not right here. We never said any of those things. You just disappeared one night…”
Spike narrowed his eyes and glared at her, “Why should I believe you when I heard you with my own ears?”
Tears were flowing freely from her eyes and she was very confused. She didn’t understand anything that Spike was saying. None of it made sense. “Spike, why do you think we keep bringing you back here? Because we’re all very worried about you.”
“What about the conversation I heard?”
“Spike, it never happened. Something is wrong, please, give us at least 24 hours to find out what? Please?” Buffy looked at him desperately and Spike felt himself soften.
“24 hours,” he agreed. What would it hurt? At least he’d get some free food out of the deal. And after this he would leave Sunnyhell for good. He was tired of her games.
Chapter 2
“Did you figure out what’s wrong with Spike?” Willow asked as soon as Buffy entered the room.
Buffy shook her head, “He told me why he’s upset, but none of it made sense.”
“What did he say?” Giles asked.
“He said that the night he disappeared he heard us talking. That I said I was disgusted with myself for being with him, that I hated him, that I was sorry I even knew him.”
“But that’s not what happened at all,” Xander protested. “You told us, we all said that we trust your judgment, and then we ate pizza. Did I miss something?”
Buffy shook her head, “No, you didn’t miss anything. But apparently Spike heard something different.”
“Maybe someone cast a spell on him,” Tara suggested, “or a demon worked him over somehow.”
“You’re probably right. But not we have to figure out who and why. Spike is absolutely convinced of what he heard.”
“Well, maybe there are some clues in his behavior. Did you see him again after that? How did he act?” Willow inquired.
Buffy thought about it for several seconds. “A few nights later I ran into him while patrolling. Before I could even ask him what was going on, he got this really hurt look on his face. Like I had just sucker punched him or something. Then he ran away. I didn’t think anything was up, just thought Spike was being his weird self.”
“Hmmm, interesting.”
“There are some demons who feed on pain,” Anya piped up. “They work by making the victim believe whatever they most fear has come true. They are like, the anti-cupid, driving people apart. But it’s usually just emotional pain—physical pain doesn’t do much for them, so they wouldn’t really make him hurt himself.”
“That could be it. He’s really, really angry with us. We only have 24 hours before he leaves, and this time, I don’t think we’ll be able to find him again,” Buffy informed her friends.
“Should we go to the magic shop and research?” Xander asked. He did not like Spike at all, but he still felt sorry for the vampire. Nobody deserved to go through that much pain. But more importantly, he didn’t want this demon to come after anybody else in the gang.
Buffy nodded, “You should all go. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him. Maybe get him to talk?”
“Can I go with them?” Dawn asked eagerly. Buffy looked uncertain. On the one hand, Dawn was still rather young to read through Giles’ books on demons and spells, there were some pretty scary things in those books. On the other hand, she really wanted to help Spike and she may not be safe her. Spike would never hurt her, but Buffy also thought that Spike would never stake himself…four times.
“Yes, just this once,” Buffy finally conceded. Dawn jumped happily to her feet, excited. Finally, they were treating her like an adult.
“We’ll call if we find anything,” Giles promised.
“Please hurry.”
////////
Spike stared at the ceiling, bored. He couldn’t go downstairs to watch TV, and Buffy didn’t have anything in her room to read except some fashion magazines. Buffy had removed her weapon chest and all her stakes from her room while Spike was asleep. So he didn’t have anything to do but lie in bed and think.
Part of him rather regretted shoving the stakes through his body. Those wounds continued to throb, and for the first time in weeks he didn’t welcome the pain as a diversion. The rest were healing up though, and a few of the scabs were itchy.
“Bloody wankers,” he growled, “this is all their fault.”
Spike didn’t understand what Buffy was going on about. She insisted that scene never happened, but damn it, he knew what he saw. Knew what he heard. And let’s face it, who had more credibility right now? His mind had never played tricks on him before, but Buffy was always one for games. And the bloody Scoobies always hated him anyway. “Should killed that lot when I had the chance,” he muttered.
But he knew he didn’t mean it. They were his humans now, whether or not they accepted it. And it was his own stupid fault for harboring any feelings for them, whether possessive or not.
Spike growled and shifted uncomfortably. Buffy’s bed was soft (and smelt nice), but instead of lulling him back to sleep, it just made him angrier. Finally he jumped out of bed and marched across the hall. The Niblet didn’t hate him. It would be nice to talk to her.
“Hey, Bit, whatcha…” the words died on his lips as he saw her room. It was in complete disarray, but he barely noticed the mess, his eyes glued to the bed. Dawn laid prone on it, her face pale, her arms crossed on her chest, and the white comforter pink with her blood.
“No!” He howled, rushing to her side, shaking her furiously trying to wake her up. “NO!” He kept shaking her, begging her to respond.
“Spike!” Buffy shouted to be heard over his wails and Dawn’s frightened tears, “What are you doing?”
He turned to her, eyes flashing in rage, “What did you do to her?”
Buffy grabbed his shoulders and yanked her away from her frightened sister. “Stop it! You’re scaring her.”
Spike yanked away from her, “She’s dead Buffy!”
“What? Spike, no, she’s fine. Can’t you hear her?”
Spike’s confused eyes darted back to the bed. Her body was still lying limply. “No.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Dawn asked, concerned, tentatively touching his back. He gave no indication of having noticed. His shoulders shook and he was breathing heavily.
“I don’t know,” Buffy answered, “But we’re working on it.”
“What happened to her?” Spike asked rawly, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.
“Spike, come with me,” Buffy tried to lead him out of the room.
“No! I’m not leaving her like this! I can’t leave her alone,” Spike insisted.
“Spike, please, if she was really dead do you think I’d leave her on the bed? Do you think I’d calmly tell you that she is fine? Do you think I’d allow anything to happen to her?”
“But there is so much blood,” he whispered.
“Spike, can you smell anything? Do you smell blood?”
Spike sniffed the air for several seconds then slowly shook his head, confusion settling over his handsome features. “I don’t.”
“Come on Spike, go lay down and I’ll get you some blood. You need your rest, you’re still healing.”
Spike followed Buffy meekly, all of a sudden very, very tired. “But I saw her,” he insisted.
Dawn walked into the room with a fresh mug. Spike didn’t seem to notice her. “Spike, where did this blood come from?”
Spike looked at her and blinked, “Didn’t one of your mates just bring it in.”
Buffy sighed and handed him the mug. “It was Dawn. Spike, something, or someone, is trying to hurt you. They have some sort of spell on you because they are feeding from your pain.”
Spike was too tired and sad to smirk and make a sarcastic comment about her credibility. But even so, he held onto her words. That meant that the lil Bit was OK, right? Buffy took the empty cup from his hands, “I’ll be right back,” she promised.
When she returned, Spike had fallen asleep, tear streaks on his face. Buffy gently pushed back a curly lock of his hair, and he whimpered, nuzzling his face against her hand. “Spike, I’m not going to let them break you,” she vowed, and then leaned in to kiss his cheek.
Buffy quickly went downstairs to tell the rest of the group what had happened. “He thinks Dawn in laying in her room, dead, covered in blood,” she stated bluntly.
“Oh, dear. What was his reaction to that?” Giles responded.
“Well, you heard him howl. When I went up there, he was shaking her, demanding her to speak. Dawn was rather scared, but unhurt. He’s asleep now.”
“I don’t think he’ll be able to take much more of this,” Willow said. “I mean, what could the demons possibly have left to attack him with?”
“I don’t know,” Buffy said, “But I don’t want to find out. We have to stop this. Any leads?”
Anya shook her head and motioned towards all the books laid out in front of them on the table. “These are all the books that deal with sadistic demons, magic, curses, etc. We’re working on it, but as you can see, we have a lot to cover.”
“The demons that you mentioned before, what are they called?”
Anya shrugged, “The Spanish called them Delores—aches and pains.”
“What do you know about these demons?”
“Not much, that’s why we have all these books.”
“Well, how close to they have to be to their victims to draw on their pain?” Buffy inquired.
“Fairly close. Couple miles maybe.”
“Great, you guys keep researching, I’m going to go see if I can find anything. What do they look like?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never seen one. Not many people have, they like to keep to themselves.”
“Great, I guess I’ll just kill anything remotely demony. I’ll be back in a few hours. Hopefully before Spike wakes up.”
///////
Spike felt his victim’s blood fill his mouth with ecstasy. Waves of pleasure rolled through his body as he felt the warm body of his first live kill in years slump lifelessly against his body. It was still warm and the blood tasted absolutely heavenly.
Spike wasn’t entirely sure why he was able to kill this girl, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was almost orgasmic with the sweet, innocent blood now coursing through **his** veins. He heard her heartbeat slow, slow, and finally stop. Spike finished draining her dry then tossed the dead body aside.
Curious about whom his victim was, he brushed the long hair out of her face, noticing that it was the same soft brown as Dawn’s. Feeling slightly sick, he turned her head to face him and gasped in horror. It **was** Dawn, his lil Bit. Her face was pale and slack—dead. Her clear blue eyes shot open and looked right at Spike, “You killed me.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean…”
“You killed me, just like you killed Buffy.”
“I didn’t kill Buffy,” Spike protested weakly.
“Oh yeah, look.” And she pointed over his shoulder.
Buffy looked at him, her green eyes wide and accusing. “I died because of you. You said you would protect Dawn.”
“I tried…”
“You failed, and now I have to die again.”
“No…” Spike whispered.
Buffy turned from him and suddenly he was standing on the tower, watching her run, watching her jump off into the flashing blue gate. Just before she jumped she turned again, “I hate you. You did this.”
“Buffy!” He cried and almost instantly he was on the ground, staring at her beautiful, battered, broken body. He picked her up and held her against his body. “You aren’t dead. You came back. You came back!”
She didn’t move. Dawn, her neck still dripping blood came up behind him. “She never came back. How could you fail her? You don’t deserve to live.” She raised a stake and plunged into his back.
///////
“Buffy!” Spike roared.
Buffy looked from her book, startled. “I better get up there.” She ran upstairs and burst into her bedroom. “Spike, what’s wrong?”
He was curled into a fetal position on the bed, crying. “Buffy?”
“Spike, I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“You’re not dead?”
“No, no, I’m back.”
“I killed you. You died because of me.”
“No, Spike, you didn’t kill me. It’s no one’s fault.”
“If I had kept my promise…”
“You did the best I could. I don’t blame you.” She crawled onto the bed with him and pulled him into her arms. “Shhh, I don’t hate you.”
“I killed Dawn,” he was nearly sobbing now.
“No, no you didn’t. She’s fine. She’s in the living room.”
“I **saw** her, on the bed, all bloody. I did that.”
“No, you didn’t,” Buffy said firmly. “She’s fine. Everybody is fine.” She rubbed his back and rocked him gently.
“Buffy, I love you. I would never hurt you.”
“I know that Spike. I know,” Buffy said soothingly.
He pressed his face against her breast, seeking his warmth and the comforting sound of her stead heartbeat. She was fine, and she insisted that Dawn was fine. And she certainly wasn’t acting like she hated him. What the hell was going on?
“Buffy, what’s happening?”
“Spike, we don’t know yet, but we’ll figure it out,” she promised. “Now, try to get some sleep, I’ll stay with you.”
Spike nodded and slowly felt himself relax against her. She sighed with frustration. She had spent two hours searching Sunnydale for her demons, and came up with nothing. She ran into a few vampires, but no demons of any kind. Buffy was pretty sure what would happen next if they didn’t stop this.
Spike would believe that she was dead too. And she doubted he would survive that a second time.
Chapter 3
Deep red eyes glowed with triumph as he overheard the humans talking about Spike. Delores demon indeed. This work was much to fine for the likes of those animals. It had taken a month to reduce the vampire to nothing but a withering ball of bruises and tears, a little longer than he had hoped at first. But even so, it was time well spent.
He sniffed the air and grinned, smelling the vampire’s fear from his position in the tree. He reached into Spike’s mind and placed a few well placed images of the Slayer and her brat sister and was rewarded with the sound crying out for the Slayer like a child cries out for its mother.
He had been watching the blonde vampire for a long time, ever since he had heard of the chip. At first he thought the chip would make his job easier, but he soon learned that the vampire could still fight demons and did so with frightening efficiency. He was many things, but he was not stupid, he knew he could not defeat the chipped vamp in a fair fight. Especially not since he had aligned himself with the Slayer.
So the demon had shifted tactics, waiting patiently for sign of weakness. He knew he didn’t have the ability to harm the humans, but that was OK. It was frightfully easy to find a spell that gave the allusion of harm. It was really no more than a glamour, but the vampire easily fell for it in his vulnerability. Attack him in his weakest moment at his weakest point.
It was absolutely delightful when Spike had started burning and cutting himself. And the stakes? Sheer brilliance. If he knew tormenting the vamp would be these this much fun he wouldn’t have waited so long.
He frowned when he saw the Slayer take her mortal enemy in her arms and sooth away his fear. That would never do. He supposed he would need to remove the Slayer from the vampire’s mind, but he didn’t want to do that just yet. That would push him over the edge and ruin all the demon’s fun. No, this needed to be prolonged as much as possible.
With a snicker the demon bounded from the tree and walked down the street, his laughter echoing in the night.
///////
“Buffy,” Spike said softly into the darkness.
“What is it?”
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That laugh.”
“No. Did it come from downstairs?”
“No, it was outside.”
“I’ll go investigate. You stay here.” Soon she was jumping out her window. She investigated her yard quickly, but didn’t find anything. Her ears were not as sharp as Spike’s, obviously, but if she really concentrated she could hear quite well. Holding her breath and performing a concentration trick Giles had taught her, she listened intently for any suspicious sounds. She tuned out her own heartbeat, the wind, dogs barking, and cars in the distance. What were left was the slow footsteps heading east, away from her, accompanied by almost maniacal chuckling.
Breaking into a run she pounded down the street, forcing herself to concentrate on the sound over her own steps. She was so intent on finding whoever, or whatever, was laughing that she didn’t see the foot shoot quickly out from behind a tree, tripping her and sending her sprawling across the road, her own momentum carrying her several feet, her head bouncing once, twice, onto the concrete before she passed out.
///////
“Tsk, tsk Slayer. I thought it would be harder to bring you down.” The voice was deep, the accent from everywhere and nowhere.
Buffy slowly opened her eyes, taking stock of her surroundings. Which wasn’t hard to do, since she was chained up in Spike’s crypt.
“What the hell is going on?” She demanded. “And who are you?”
“No one you have to worry about. I wasn’t going to hurt you Slayer.”
“Huh, so chaining me up is what? Foreplay?”
The man—no, demon, Buffy quickly realized—shrugged. “From what I can tell, you like that sort of thing.”
“What?” Buffy’s voice was full of outrage.
“Don’t act so innocent Slayer. I’ve seen what you let that vampire do to you.”
“You’ve spied on me?”
“You know all those times the vamp told you the world doesn’t revolve around your pretty little head? He was right. I wasn’t spying on you. I was spying on him.”
Buffy glared at him, “Are you a Delores demon?”
“Slayer, I’m deeply offended that you would even consider that. Of course not. I’m far too brilliant to be one of those.”
“Then what are you?” Buffy had decided to play it cool, and not let the anger overwhelm her. She wasn’t frightened. Why should she be? She knew from … experience … that she could break away from the chains if she wanted to. But she **was** furious. This was obviously the psycho trying to destroy her….what? Boyfriend?
The demon shrugged again, “None of your concern. I’m just after my pal Spike. When I’m done with him, I’ll be out of your life.”
“Humor me, why are you after him?”
“He’s a vampire.” The line was delivered in a perfect “duh” voice.
“So you have a thing against vampires? Great! You can help me slay. Just not that one.”
“Slayer, hey may be your very own dildo, but he’s still a vampire.” The same “duh” voice.
“Look, why don’t you simple things up and just let me go? I won’t kick your ass … much.”
“Not that easy Slayer. Hey I know! Let’s have a round of Torment Spike! You’re a veteran of the game, you cock tease you.” Before Buffy could respond the demon pointed his finger at her then snapped. She could hear Spike’s scream echoing in her mind.
“What did you do?” She demanded. “Why could I hear him.”
“I sent him an unpleasant image of your beaten body. And you heard him because I wanted you too.”
“What else did you do? You didn’t just send him an image.”
”Ok, I also made him believe he did this to you. It’s fun really.”
“You’re sick,” Buffy said coldly, “And I’ve had enough.” She braced her feet against the floor and gave a good tug. But nothing happened.
The demon laughed. “Silly girl. I wouldn’t use his chains on you. How stupid do you think I am? Now, get good and comfortable, we have a long night ahead of us.”
‘Spike,’ Buffy pleaded silently, ‘Stay strong. Get help. Please. Please.’
//////
Spike practically fell down the stairs in his hurry. “Buffy gone, you gotta find Buffy. Buffy’s dead. You gotta find her. Find her. Find her.” He babbled over and over.
Giles grabbed Spike by the shoulders and shook him gently, “What are you talking about?”
“Buffy left. I **saw** her in my crypt. I … I think I hurt her. She’s gone. You’ve got to find her,” Spike pleaded through his tears. Giles could see that Spike was not in control of his senses.
“Spike, listen to me,” Giles said slowly, leading the vampire to the couch, “Buffy is fine. You didn’t hurt Buffy.” Giles looked over his head and met Willow’s eyes, then looked upstairs. Willow nodded and ran to Buffy’s room to check on her.
“Buffy’s not up there,” Willow announced.
Spike started shaking, “See? She’s gone. I killed her like I killed Dawn. Oh God. Oh God…”
Giles slapped Spike and he looked up with startled blue eyes. “Spike, you didn’t hurt anybody. Dawn’s fine. Buffy’s fine.”
“No, no, Buffy’s in the crypt. She’s hurt. Please…”
“Maybe we should humor him,” Tara suggested. “Maybe we can calm him down if one of us goes and check over there.”
Giles nodded, “Willow, Xander, you guys go and check. Tara, you stay here and see if you can help me with him.”
Tara sat down beside the weeping vampire and took his cool hand in her warm one. She wrapped her other arm around him and held him while he cried. The year before when Buffy had died, he hadn’t allowed anybody to see him cry, much less comfort him. But now Tara could tell that he was far beyond pride. Which alarmed her more even more than the stake wounds had.
“Because I’ve found a book that details them a great deal. Month long torment is not their style. That’s why so little is known about them. They come and go quickly, usually within hours,” Tara explained. Spike was silent now, but he was still shaking.
“So what do you thing?” Giles trusted the witch’s opinions. She was not only extremely intelligent, she was also amazing intuitive and perceptive.
“I think it’s someone who knows Spike personally. They seem to know exactly where Spike’s weakest points are. Being rejected by us, being rejected by Buffy, thinking that he killed Dawn, losing Buffy again.”
Giles took his glasses off and nodded. “Well, at least we know the Delores demon is a dead end.”
“He has her,” Spike whispered.
Tara pulled away slightly, “Who has her?”
Spike didn’t respond, just buried his head on Tara’s shoulder again, welcoming the comfort from her warmth.
“We’ll have to keep a close eye on him,” Giles stated. “There’s no telling how much damage he could do to himself in this state.”
Tara nodded, “Maybe I can do a spell. To figure out what he’s seeing. Or figure out who is making him see it.”
Giles nodded, “Stay here with him, I’ll look for something.”
Tara stroked the back of Spike’s head and whispered in his ear, “Sleep.” Spike’s body immediately lost its tension and he collapsed back onto the couch. Tara hoped that the white magic in her spell would block whatever dark magic was trying to destroy him.
/////
“Who is that?” Xander whispered.
Willow shook her head, “I don’t know.”
From their vantage point they could easily make out Buffy, who was indeed tied up but looked uninjured, and a demon. He looked almost normal except for the glowing red eyes that illuminated the room and horns emerging from the side of his head.
“Buffy looks fine, we should go get everybody else,” Willow stated.
“Is that the guy attacking Spike?”
“It might be, but we can’t take him out on our own.”
Xander nodded. “Let’s move.”
They quietly slipped out of Spike’s crypt and made their way quickly back to Buffy’s house. “I wonder how he caught Buffy,” Willow said.
“I wonder why he hasn’t killed Buffy. I mean, hello, she’s the Slayer. You’d think he’d fall all over himself to do her in.”
“Maybe he isn’t concerned with her? Maybe he’s just worried about Spike.”
“Well, the best way to hurt Spike is to hurt Buffy. So we better hurry.”
Chapter 4
Spike delicately ran the tip of the knife from the girl’s throat to her stomach. It was a shallow cut, and it only bled in places. Small, bitter drops slid down either side of the girl’s ribs. Spike bent his head and licked them one at a time. The girl whimpered.
Spike’s smile was full of fangs, and it frightened her more than anything else he could have done. Using the knife he traced her face, down her nose, around her eyes, and finally ended at her lips. She could feel the warm blood drip down into her eyes, nose, and mouth. As before, Spike leaned over and licked her until the blood stopped.
“You’re delicious, luv,” he purred. She didn’t respond, not even giving him the satisfaction of a whimper or a pleading groan.
Spike continued making shallow cuts, lapping and licking all over her skin. His touch was as gentle and delicate as a lover’s, but the girl knew there was nothing loving about his ministrations. Everything he did was designed to bring her fear, to sweeten her blood with adrenalin and panic, and even a bit of lust.
He chose a different knife, slightly bigger and sharper than the first. Her eyes widened as he removed his duster and shirt. “Just making myself more comfortable, pet.”
He lay beside her on the bed, one hand gently cupping her breast, the other tracing crimson patterns all over her chest. “Cor, you’re soft. And sweet. And you smell so good.” He leaned over and bit the breast that he had been holding.
The girl howled in pain at the harsh bite, than gasped in pleasure when he changed his technique and begin suckling from her gently. She could almost convince herself that he was just a lover, giving her a small hickey instead of draining her life from her, suckling her like a child.
She felt herself growing lightheaded and her eyes glazed. He felt her heartbeat slow, and he stopped drinking from her. He didn’t want to end it too soon. He still had plans for the beautiful, black-eyed virgin.
“You still with us?”
She nodded slightly. He stood up and finished undressing, than unceremoniously ripped her skirt off of her. He was so hard for her, but instead of just pounding into her, he carefully slipped a finger inside her folds.
“You’re tight. And hot.” His voice was soft, not menacing at all. “But not wet for me.” He kneeled and buried his head between her legs, using his fangs to cut to her inner-thigh. He sucked on the wound gently then raised his head and cupped the blood in his hand. He rubbed it all over his cock, mixing it with the pre-cum.
He braced himself above her, than thrust himself into her with a grunt. She groaned in pain, and he moved slowly at first. Then he grabbed her hair, pulling her head back and began pounding into her with all his strength. He could hear her moans of pain, and she tried to push against him, but she was too weak to do anything. Finally she stopped struggling and just lay beneath him, silent tears coursing down his cheek.
He ignored her tears and kept shoving himself into her. As soon as the orgasm built, he plunged his fangs into her neck and finished draining her, as his cock shot his seed into her. She died, covered in blood and tears, with the vampire sucking greedily from her neck.
Buffy’s eyes shot open.
“Did you see that Slayer?”
“What was it?”
“Why I’m going to kill Spike.”
Her stomach was rolling in disgust and horror. She could believe that was Spike, she always knew who and what he was. But that didn’t keep her heart from breaking slightly, and the tears falling from her eyes.
“Who was it?” She asked softly.
“My daughter. She was only 15. The same age as your sister. I wonder if he will fuck her as he drains her, like he did with my Maria.”
“No,” Buffy denied hotly. “He would never hurt Dawn. He loves her.”
“He can’t love her. He’s a vampire. But you’re right, he never will hurt her, because I’ll kill him before he gets the chance.”
////////
Spike’s eyes shot open. For a precious moment he had complete clarity. He understood that he was seeing a glamour for the past month, not the truth. He understood that Dawn was still living, that he didn’t drain her. He understood that Buffy didn’t hate him, wasn’t ashamed of him, didn’t blame him for her death. And thanks to the dream he just had, he understood who was responsible.
“Folter. Ahndung. Balbon” As soon as the words were uttered his newfound comprehension was gone, and he collapsed back onto the couch, tears streaming down his face.
“What did you say Spike?” Tara asked
“Dead, dead….she’s gone, dead….” He was back to babbling.
Tara sighed and called for Giles. “He just said something.”
“What was it?”
“It sounded like a couple different languages. Folter, Ahndung, and Balbon.”
“Well, the first two words are German. Torture and Revenge. The last one isn’t German, I think it’s a demon. I’ll look it up. Perhaps it’ll shed some light on what’s going on.”
She put Spike back to sleep so that he wouldn’t hurt himself or try to run away, and then continued preparing her spell while Giles consulted his books. She sprinkled some herbs around the sleeping vampire and lit a candle, holding it carefully above his chest. With the other hand she held a bowl of water.
Tara quickly cast the spell and looked into the water. She gasped when she saw Buffy, chained in Spike’s crypt, obviously yelling at somebody. The point of view shifted until Tara could see an almost normal looking man, smiling evilly. “Giles!” She yelled.
He hurried into the room. “What is it now?”
Just as Tara was about to answer Willow and Xander burst through the door, “Buffy is being held captive by some demon!”
“We know. And it looks like a Balbon, just like Spike said,” Giles informed them.
“What’s a Balbon and how do we kill it.”
Giles rubbed his eyes. “A Balbon is a demon of delusion, however, they usually stay away from humans, and aren’t known for violent tendencies. They also look human enough to marry humans and have children. As a matter of fact, Balbons can’t hurt humans, and aren’t very strong.”
“So they use their delusions to make their targets hurt themselves?” Willow asked.
Giles nodded. “And one of them is obviously after Spike. He said something about revenge and torture.”
Xander sighed, “Big surprise there. Ok, we have to figure out a way to get Buffy.”
“And stop him from working his mojo on Spike,” Tara added.
Giles nodded, “Willow, Xander, come with me. We’ll work on getting Buffy and see if there is anything else we need to know about this demon. Tara, you stay with Spike. He may need you.”
“And you better hurry. We have no idea how much time we have left.”