I've scared my Childe.
I've scared my sweet, beautiful boy.
He's terrified of me. I can tell that he's completely terrified of me.
Me.
Oh god, what have I done?
I put my hand on the bathroom door I just closed. I can practically feel the fear radiating through the wood.
All because of me.
I have to pull on my own control as tears start to slide down my cheeks. I take a purposeful breath and curl my fingers together until my hand is clenched in a fist. I let my hand drop to my side, turn, and walk out of the bedroom.
To where the body lay.
What have I done?
I turn around, walk back into the bedroom and over to the phone on the night-stand next to the bed. I quickly pick up the receiver and dial a number I know by heart. My arm shakes as I raise the receiver to my ear.
It rings once. Twice. Three ti-
"Hello?"
Oh god, my love, what have I done?
"Buffy," I say into the phone.
"Angel, what is it?" Buffy asks immediately, obviously hearing the pain in my voice.
"I need you-"
To comfort and hold me.
"-To come here and help Spike."
"What happened?"
I've terrified my beautiful boy.
"Someone broke in here. I think it was one of the men who worked for the Initiative."
She gasped. "Is Spike okay?"
"No-"
And it's my fault.
"-He's not-"
Because I've terrified him.
"-Which is why I need you-"
To forgive me for making my Will fear me.
"To come."
"I'll be there in two hours," she tells me.
"Okay," I reply and hang up after she says a quick goodbye.
I wipe at the tears coursing down my face and press my lips together tightly. I love her so much. It's so unfair that we can't be together. I logically know the reasons why -- I recite them to myself every damn day before I go to bed -- but that doesn't make it any more bearable to have to live without the woman I love more than anyone except for my Childe.
Oh god, my poor, sweet, scared boy. What have I done?
I grind my teeth together and walk out of the bedroom to the body. Blood is staining my floor. I'll have to strip and refinish it to get rid of that stain.
I bend down, pick up the heart and shove it back into the guy's chest. Then I grab the dead man's arms and drag him over to the grate in the floor. The blood leaves a streaked trail. My nostrils flare at the scent, which is making me hungry.
I should have drained the fucker.
I shove the body down the hole and hear a loud thump when he hits the tunnel ground. I'll take care of disposing him later. Maybe I'll wrap him like a mummy in his own entrails and ship him back to Sunnydale as a warning not to come after my Childe again. Hmm, I like that idea.
I shut the grate and look at the blood coating my floor. I don't think I have enough paper towels to clean all of it up. Maybe an old towel will work. I think I have one around here somewhere...
What the hell am I thinking?
I need a mop.
I press my fingers to my temples and rub in small circles. My head is pounding, threatening to explode. My stomach is clenched into a tight knot as my forced distraction fell away.
What have I done?
I let my rage overtake me and frightened my boy, that's what I've done. God, I'm so stupid! How could I have done that in front of him? He thinks I'm like I was when he came to Sunnydale the first time. He doesn't know how hell, the First and having to break Buffy's heart changed me.
Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!!
I spin around and slam my fists down on the kitchen table. The mug that I'd set there earlier bounced onto its side before falling off the table and crashing to the floor. The ceramic broke into pieces with little fanfare.
How am I going to fix this? Spike was doing so well, healing slowly but surely. Now, because I let go of my control when my Childe screamed out my name for help, he's afraid again.
And this time it's me he's afraid of.
I bow my head and squeeze my eyes tightly shut. I want to drive a stake through my temple to counteract the pain. Pain not caused by any physical injuries I have, but by hurting the most important being in the world to me. Oh god, my boy, what have I done?
I suck in a large breath of air and blow it out slowly, pulling myself back together. Stoic undead guy, that's me, according to Cordelia. I straighten and run a hand through my hair, then move to grab the first aid kit off the top of the refrigerator.
I avoid the blood as I cross the room back to the bedroom. I'll clean that up after I doctor Spike's wounds. Outside of the closed bathroom door I pause and try to think of what to say to him. I don't think I even know how to explain. With a small shake of my head, I knock lightly, then open the door.
My heart catches in my throat. My beautiful Childe is sitting in the corner between the wall and the toilet, looking small and lost and scared.
I'm so sorry, my William.
"Spike, I've got the first aid kit," I say quietly. I flinch when he flinches at the sound of my voice.
Oh god, what have I done?
I set the kit down on the sink and open it. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he uses the wall to stand, his cheek scraping against it as he rises. I bite my tongue to keep from saying anything. He stands there for a moment, not moving, and I see his Adam's apple bob reflexively as he swallows. Then he sits down on the edge of the closed seat, his hands clamped between his thighs, his back and shoulders hunched.
I pick up the towel that's on the floor and wet an end in the sink. I move slowly so as not to scare him even more than I already have. Crouching down before him, I put one finger under his chin and tilt his battered face up slightly.
My Childe opens his eyes, and I'm horrified at the fear I see reflected in the blue orbs before he raises his gaze towards the ceiling.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, my voice rough with emotion. My hand trembles slightly as I begin to cleanse his wounds. He makes a small whimper in pain in the back of his throat and I grind my teeth so I don't pull him into my arms. If I did that now, I might forever lose any chance I have to make things right.
He winces as I clean the blood from his face. I can see the tears rimming his eyes and it crushes my heart. "I'll hurry," I say, reaching over to set the first aid kit on the floor beside me. He says nothing.
When I'm finished, he drops his bandaged chin so he's looking at the floor as I stand, picking up the first aid kit as I do so. "Do you want me to heat up some blood?" I ask him. He barely shakes his head no.
"I'll be in the other room if you need me," I tell him, knowing that he wants me to just go. He doesn't move or acknowledge me again. Taking the first aid kit, I leave the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
A few seconds later, I hear the suppressed sounds of crying through the door.
What have I done?