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Chapter 9: To be conscious

The black murkiness of his head was drowning him. Flashes of red and purple flew threw when he tried to move. He stayed still… nothingness. That’s what it is. Deep, dark, dank blackness enveloped his mind once again.

Dawn walked into the living room carrying a mug of warm blood and replacement bandages. The gash on Spike’s head has since stopped bleeding, but it still looked wicked. Dawn stat down next to the couch and set the new bandages down. Carefully she shook his body, trying to wake him. He stirred a couple minutes ago, moaning in pain, but he quickly stopped moving and making noise. She brought the mug of warm liquid up to his nose so he could smell the nourishment. She pried apart his chapped lips, trying to get the straw in, but he wouldn’t suck. Frustrated, she put the mug down and worked on replacing his bloody bandages. She replaced most of the bandages when Spike’s face changed. His canines extended and his forehead wrinkled. Taking the chance, Dawn brought the mug back to Spike’s mouth and inserted the straw. Still he did not suck up the liquid. Carefully she grabbed the tip of the straw and capped the top off with her finger. She brought the straw over his partially open mouth and released the top of it, allowing the liquid to escape down to his mouth. A low growl emanated from his chest as Dawn repeated the procedure. After the third try, Dawn brought the straw in the mug up to his lips, this time him sucking down the liquid. After the liquid in the mug was gone, Dawn went back to replacing the rest of his bandages. She prepared another mug and offered the straw to his lips, he again denied sucking. She then repeated her earlier procedure in tempting him with dropping small drops in his mouth. He eventually sucked the liquid down.

Dawn stood watch over the beaten body: watching, hoping that he would wake up soon. Ever since she fed him the first time a deep, sad sound emanated from his chest. It was not quite a whimper, yet not a growl. His chest vibrated with the sound and Dawn could not help but feel sadden with knowledge that Buffy had moved out of the hotel room, in all intents and purposes, leaving Spike.

About 4:00 in the afternoon, Spike started to stir again. The black haze that encased his brain was now greyer and he could see patches of white. Carefully and slowly he opened his eyes to see a vision of an angel in front of him. Dawn’s sleeping form was curled up in a chair next to the couch. Her hair tumbled over her head and shoulders, almost as if shielding her from harm. Her hand was propped up holding her head as if to watch him. Spike lifted his hand to touch his pounding head. Most of his injuries had healed, but he still felt the after- effects. The gash on his head had closed, but the skin had not grown over it, so it was still tender. A loud groan woke dawn up from her catnap. She looked over at the couch. Spike’s face was contorted in pain and his hands shielded his eyes from the world.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, nibblet?”

“Are you OK? I mean… that gash on your head still hasn’t healed.”

“Yeah, be alright. How’d I get here?” Spike sat up.

“Um, he brought you. Need some blood?”

“Yeah, pet. That would be bloody wonderful.” Dawn giggled at his pun.

“Be back.”

“Bit?”

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t I more hungry?” Spike followed her into the kitchen.

“I fed you while you were unconscious. You know… that was kinda difficult.” She put a mug of blood in the microwave and hit the appropriate buttons.

“Where’s your sis, with the big poof?” He growled.

“No, she went back to her hotel… Spike?”

“Yeah, pet?”

“What happened?” The microwave beeped and she grabbed the mug out and handed it to him. “Because Buffy really doesn’t know.”

“Me neither, bit… me neither.” Spike downed the mug in two gulps.

“What happened with… umm… you know… him? He disappeared before Buffy could stop yelling at him and explain.”

“Buffy was here?”

“Yeah, she cleaned and bandaged you up and all…”

“But she left?”

“Yeah, well… she found the room key.”

“So she went back to the hotel… great how am I going to get back in.”

“Here.” She gave him the key and at his questioning look she continued, “She moved to a new room. Moved her stuff, that is.”

“I see.”

“So… with him… what happened? Neither of you looked too good.”

“Fight, that’s all, pet.”

“Yeah, so how are you going to get Buffy back?”

“What’s the point, bit? She will always run back to him.”

“That’s not true and you know it!” Spike looked up at Dawn. “She doesn’t want him, she wants you. She came here crying over you, and I mean she was CRYING. She doesn’t know what made you so angry, doesn’t understand why you kicked her out like that. Then when she was telling Angel you two were together and he lost it… well… I am glad I wasn’t Angel. She really let him have it… about the soul thing.” Spike sat up quickly. “No, she didn’t tell him that you have a soul. Just about his and his flaws and stuff. You know? She doesn’t want him… she wants you soul or not.”

“She doesn’t act like it.”

“What did she do? Really Spike, because I don’t see what she did.”

“She said his name and got all dreamy eyed.”

“Dreamy eyed? Are you sure? Because sometimes her thinking face looks like a dreamy face, but it isn’t. Did you ask her or just jump to conclusions?”

“Dawn! Look, bit… I jumped and I keep jumping. Jumped through her bloody hoops and all and still wasn’t good enough for her.”

“I think she doesn’t think that way anymore.”

“And then the soul…”

“She admitted what she was feeling before the soul, Spike. So don’t use that excuse.” Spike sat there for a couple minutes quiet, thinking through the situation.

“What room is she in?”

~*~*~
Spike ran. His legs traveled impossibly fast through the streets and cemeteries of the town making his way towards their hotel and room. Maybe she would still be there. Maybe she just got a duplicate key. Maybe he wasn’t too late. Maybe. But maybes were not in the cards, not now. He arrived at the room barely short of breath since he didn’t need it, yet he still did it. He walked in looking around. All his clothes were in a corner, pilled neatly. The bed was made. The trash that was previously spread throughout the room was in the trashcan. Nothing was out of place. Nothing, because her stuff was not there. Nothing was out of place because nothing was here. Nothing.

~*~*~
A knock on the door woke Buffy up. She was sitting on the suites couch, not wanting to sleep alone in the bed. It was really funny to Buffy that she spent the last six years of her life sleeping alone in bed and after only 2 short weeks of sharing her bed, Buffy couldn’t seem to drag her body into an empty bed. Another knock sounded on the door. Knowing who was on the other side, Buffy decided not to answer it. They could wait. Instead she dragged her tired body into the lush bathroom.

~*~*~
Spike sat on the bed with his elbows on his knees and his hands cradling his head. Slow tears traveled down his face as he fought for control. He could smell her scent all over the room. All over his things. She spent a long time straightening the room up before she finally left. He called down to the front desk, begging for the new room number, but they told him what he already knew. Not only did she change room, she changed hotels.

Looking around for some signal to Buffy’s where about, Spike spotted the ring on the nightstand. He gingerly picked it up remembering the engagement clearly. The feel of her body fitting so snuggly next to his at the watcher’s home. They discussed the future as she fed him pigs’ blood from that damn novelty mug. She whispered lovingly thoughts in his ears when Giles left the room. He spoke poetic words of cherishing her as she caressed his chest. They wanted to make love that night. They planned on going back to the empty house on Revello to consummate the relationship. That was before the spell was reversed and they instantly became hateful to each other again. Buffy gave the ring back a couple days after the spell was broken. She dropped by the watcher’s one sunny day and slipped it to Giles through a crack in the door. The whole situation was ridiculous in his mind. Spike kept the ring, keeping it safe and polished all those years just waiting to return to her finger.

Spike shook his head in despair. It wasn’t likely that the ring would find its way back onto Buffy’s hand any time soon. She left him cold and afraid. Sure she cared enough to clean and bandage his beaten body, but not enough to stick around for him. She probably only did that because she felt guilty that her boyfriend did it to him. She’s probably with him right now, laughing about what a pathetic ponce he had become. Loving the Slayer, humph. What a crock of SHIT. Thinking he would set up house with the woman, sharing her bed and life. Yeah, sure… laugh it up at ole Spike. Soon, he would show her how pathetic he really was. Nothing was stopping him from hurting her or her friends. Nothing. Nothing except the love he still had for her. Sod it to fucking hell!

Spike ran out of the room, anxious to get away from his memories. He walked outside sniffing the air. He picked up trace amounts of her scent, but also picked up another scent, a scent of evil. Spike calmly walked down the road in search of her. He had to make her understand. Make her love him.
~*~*~
The knocking never stopped. Buffy was tempted to call down to the front desk to have her unwanted visitor removed, but she knew it would not help. He would only be back, more determined. She wrapped her hair up in a towel and put on a pair of running pants and short tank top before she opened the door.

“Will you STOP?” She cursed the intruder.

“Finally, I’ve been out here for over and hour. Invite me in.”

“No, go away!”

“Buffy, please, listen…”

“I said go away, Angel.”

“We need to talk.” He fidgeted with the door jam.

“How did you find me?” She asked, blocking his entry.

“You know.” He motioned to his nose. “Buff, I’m sorry I went over the deep end, but…”

“There are no buts.” A couple of her neighbors peaked out of their doors at the loud voices and the ceased knocking.

“Please, Buff, let me in.”

“Fine, come in.” She moved out of his way. Angel sulked in and brushed past Buffy, slightly brushing her arm with his. He stood next to the couch, waiting for her to close the door. She slowly closed the door, leaving it unlocked and walked a wide berth around Angel. She sat in a chair on the other side of the couch.

“Fine, speak.”

“Buff…”

“I don’t want to hear any lame excuses.”

“I’m sorry. I just…” He sat down on the couch, close to her. “Its just that…” Words were failing him. “See, the thing is…”

“Spit it out, Angel.”

He growled. “You’re mine!”

“What?” Buffy’s body shot up. “I am not property!”

“I’m his sire and you are mine. I just had to remind William of that.” His body followed hers, both unaware of the eyes looking up into the window from the street. The curtains were drawn back open. The big window allowed passer bys to view the entire room.

“I am so not hearing this.” Angel grabbed Buffy and smashed his lips to hers. She struggled to be released, but his grip was too tight. His tongue probed her lips, asking for entry that she declined. She finally wound her hands around his neck and grabbed a fist full of hair. The sudden jerk movement surprised Angel enough to let go of her.

“You are mine. I was here first! You bear my mark.” She brought his hand up to her neck to caress the long healed marks. He jerked her closer so she couldn’t move once again.

“I also bear the mark of the master are you saying I was his too?” Buffy knew she was taunting Angel, but he was crazy.

“Master is dead. I was next. You are mine and he is to stay away.” He smashed their lips together again, her arms trapped between their bodies. On the street, eyes turning yellow watching their movements. A low growl erupted from its owner.

a/n I'll add a couple chapters in a couple days. If you can't wait, go to my site www.geocities.com/karbear57:





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