Repercussions

Chapter Three

Author's Note: This starts up basically during the season four episode The Initiative. Broody McHairgel comes from the wonderful mind of Gaia-VoidMother. Beta read by the awesome Sigyn.

…

She felt him before she saw him, a familiar tingle along her nerves as she made her way towards her dorm. Buffy turned and followed her senses. Most vampires she couldn't pinpoint as easily, but most vampires hadn't been one of her best friends for two years.

It didn't take long to find him, but once she did, she stayed back and just watched. He was talking quietly with a young woman about her own age, his voice too soft for her to hear. The girl looked really freaked out, but her fear turned to confusion when Spike reached into his pocket and handed her a stake. Then he slowly backed away from her, giving her space to run if she felt the need.

After a moment of hesitation, she followed him, tilting her head to shyly expose her neck. Spike shook his head and gently took her wrist, pulling her arm mostly straight before nuzzling along the inner length of it. He kissed the vein at her elbow, then looked at her, one brow raised in a question. At her nod, he vamped out and bit her.

Buffy looked away at that point, feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur. By the time she looked back, he was waving off the girl's attempt to give him the stake back. They talked for a few minutes more, the girl suddenly looking embarrassed and patting her pockets. Spike laughed and handed her a few dollars before turning away and heading in Buffy's direction.

"Remember, pet, you stake anyone else tries to take your blood," he called over his shoulder. "More likely to take all of it."

Once he reached Buffy, they walked together side-by-side in companionable silence. She had known he got blood from willing college girls, but she'd never actually watched him do it before.

"What was with the money?" she asked. That had been kind of weird, considering how much he was disgusted by the suck houses. And wasn't it usually the vampires who got paid in those?

"She wanted to know if I had change for a twenty so she could get something from the snack machine. I just gave her some dosh for it," Spike replied with a touch of amusement.

Buffy had to admit it was kind of funny. Girl finds out about vampires, girl feeds vampire, then girl asks vampire if he can break a twenty.

Girl feeds vampire…. She glanced at Spike shyly. She'd always kind of wondered what it was like, but it had never really come up before. What did the girls get out of it? What did the people at the suck houses get out of it?

"What's it like?" she suddenly blurted out, her cheeks reddening. Oh god, I must sound like such a child. She pushed on anyway. "The… the blood? Giving and… um taking it? I mean, you both seemed to…. I could…."

She stopped talking, swallowing hard and coming to a standstill as Spike gently took her hand in his. "You could what, pet? Give me some of your blood?" he asked, his voice husky. "You don't really want to offer, love."

"Why not?"

He rubbed his cheek against the veins in her wrist, gazing at her with eyes that were still human-blue but clearly those of a predator. "Every time I feed, I hold the power of life and death over someone. And every time, the desire to kill them is greater than the desire to let them live."

"But you do," she whispered, staring at him wide-eyed. She never really forgot what he was, but sometimes she forgot that he was more wildcat than housecat. He'd roll over and let you rub his belly, but in the back of his mind, he'd still be thinking of you as lunch. "You do let them live."

"I do," he agreed, letting go of her wrist. Part of her wanted to put some distance between them while another part wanted to move even closer. She stayed put. "Why would you want to offer, anyway?"

"Just… I don't know. You seem to share something with those girls…"

"The girls are dead to me." His voice was harsh, yet oddly gentle. "It's the only way I can let them live. They're dead to me for two months, when they have enough blood and are just different enough than they were for me to feed on them again."

"And if you fed from me…."

"Don't tempt me, Slayer. I may have gone all over reformed, but I spent twenty years as a very bad boy. Killin' one of your sisters was my last hurrah, as it were." He closed his eyes and shuddered slightly, but not in distress. It was more like he was remembering something pleasant. His eyes opened again, staring right into her own. "I'd want more than a pint, kitten."

"So…." She swallowed again, her mouth and throat suddenly desert dry. "You don't want my blood because you wouldn't be able to keep from killing me?"

He leaned forward, lightly pressing his forehead against hers while his hands cupped her cheeks. "I don't want your blood because you aren't food. You're Buffy."

After a moment, he stepped away from her and they continued walking together, the easy companionship between them now awkward and uncomfortable. After a while, the sheer familiarity of him by her side as they traveled through the darkness began to ease things between them.

"When did you get into town?" she finally asked, breaking the last of the tension. Other than Gwen and Jesse's wedding – which had required the help of a demon law firm since they were both vampires who had been turned as minors – she hadn't seen him since he'd taken away a bunch of the kids turned during the Mayor's Ascension.

"Little before dawn, actually. Julie said you called asking about commando types. Thought I'd drop by for a visit," Spike said with a shrug.

Buffy's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. His body language was off, closed in when he was usually fairly open, and he was just walking along beside her without any unnecessary movements. That was just weird and wrong for a guy who seemed like he'd explode from energy buildup if he had to hold still for too long.

"Julie said there hadn't been any soldiers running around L.A. as far as she knew. If you had more information, you could have just called."

Not that she was upset he'd showed up. The circumstances were just odd. He'd come into town at the last possible moment and had gone the entire day without letting any of them know he was around. She wasn't even sure if he'd intended her to find him tonight or if it had just been a coincidence.

He just shrugged. "Dru's been havin' visions of soldier types and demons in cages. She and Angel should be in town in a couple hours."

Buffy stopped and stared. Spike never went anywhere without Dru, and Angel got antsy if the blond vampire wasn't around. Something was seriously wrong.

"Did you run away from home or something?" she asked, only half joking.

That got a small, slightly pained smile from him. "Kind of. Dru has times when….Um…. Well… it's…." He trailed off, looking at her hesitantly.

"Hey, I'm in college now. I'm all grown up Buffy, so you can talk about grownup things with me."

As funny as it had been watching a one hundred plus year old vampire get lectured by her mom about inappropriate subject matters with her teenage daughter, she'd missed the casual way he'd just sort of assumed she was mature enough to handle anything. She was the Slayer. She killed things on a regular basis; she could handle being talked to as if she were an adult.

Spike tilted his head, studying her for several moments before going on with he'd been saying. "Sometimes Dru needs things Angel is best at giving her. And then it leads to sex. If I'm there…. Well, it's just best if I'm not there for it. Then I don't have to say no to what she wants. Normally I stay around L.A. This time I just came here instead. Called them when I got to the hotel."

Buffy frowned and started walking towards her dorm again. She had known Dru wasn't faithful to Spike, but with Angel? She had always kind of thought he was gay, considering the way he was always looking at Spike. Of course, Spike was easy on the eyes. Her instinct was to ask for more info, but she curbed it. Things were already leaning towards the awkward.

"So, what have you been up to, pet?" Spike asked, breaking the slightly uncomfortable mood. "Any new boyfriends?"

"Ugh, no. I think I've just about given up on normal boys. They tend to either think I'm crazy or get scared off by the crazy around me. Sometimes both."

There was also the problem of being too picky. She wanted a guy who could banter with her, hold his own in a sparring match, and make her laugh. Someone tough and swaggering who wasn't afraid to admit he liked cuddles. In other words, me and Angel should totally form The We Want Dru's Man Club, she thought wryly.

"I'm beginning to think at this point that I should just date Angel," she joked. "At least he's a thing that goes bump in the night and won't get the wiggins over my life."

She was worried for a second that bringing up Angel had been a bad idea, but Spike laughed.

"Oh god, that would be a disaster," he said, eyes bright with amusement. He started bouncing a little as he walked, his usual energy returning. "You two have very little in common. And then there's the thing with his nightmares. I can just imagine it now, the first time you want to actually sleep together and not just shag. 'Darling Buffums, my sweet,'" he lowered his voice and batted his eyes at her, "'I am a tormented creature who has constant nightmares. In order to sleep, I need the cuddliest, manliest, handsomest-'"

"Don't forget the most modest," Buffy cut in. "And he better not actually try batting his eyes at me. Unlike you, he doesn't have the lashes for it."

Spike grinned at her and continued. '"And most modest vampire in all of history to snuggle into bed with me, along with his girlfriend. You'd be totally okay with that, right?' Though to be fair, if he got over his little crush and found someone, he wouldn't need me anymore."

There was an odd tone to his voice, as if not being needed by Angel would be both upsetting and a relief. Spike was the type of person who needed to be needed, to take care of others. But who takes care of the caretaker? Buffy wondered suddenly. It had to get exhausting sometimes, to be the one who was leaned on all the time. She felt that way too, the weight of being the Slayer on her shoulders.

All too soon, they reached her dorm. She looked at it reluctantly, then at Spike. "I'm planning on taking Will to a frat party tonight. There was this thing with Oz, and now he's gone off to find himself or something. Ms. Calendar gave her a couple of new spells to study to make her feel better, but it doesn't seem to be working."

"And you're hoping a bit of out and about time will cheer her up? Might do it." Spike tilted his head slightly as something occurred to him. "Should try something like that with Broody McHairgel. Take him to the cinema and maybe get him out of the 'the world keeps changing' funk he's been in for the past couple of years." He grinned impishly. "Could make out with him a bit and get the prudes all in a tizzy."

"You'd be more likely to get people wanting to take pictures," Buffy said with a laugh. Weird commandos horning in on her turf, a heartbroken best friend, even the time they'd had to stop the Anointed One and Darla from trying to awaken Acathla, none of it ever seemed quite as dire as it should have with Spike by her side. "Do you think you could-"

"Take your patrol? No worries, pet, I've got this. Willow needs you right now."

She smiled and hugged him in thanks, melting a little inside as he returned the hug and kissed her lightly on the top of the head. She knew he didn't mean anything by it – that Spike was just casually affectionate with the people he cared about – but she liked to at least pretend it was more than that where she was concerned.

…

…

Angel carried their luggage into the hotel suite Spike had reserved for them, Drusilla drifting along behind him with Miss Edith clutched to her chest. A blanket cloaked the vampiress, hiding the dried blood and still healing wounds. He wished he could have cleaned her up – wished even more that she didn't sometimes need the kind of torture and degradation he'd put her through both before and after turning her – but that would have only distressed her.

Spike could – and often did – hurt Dru, but only when it was a kinky game, when there was as much pleasure as pain involved for both of them. Sometimes, though, she needed to be treated like a thing, a canvass for sadistic art that mattered only for the pain she could feel. Angel loathed himself for it, but he could still give her what she needed, even with the soul.

All he had to do was remind himself of all of the things he had done to her and of all of the children she had killed because of him, then let his self-hate pour out on the madwoman. Every cut, every splash of holy water, every slowly broken bone, and every artfully placed bruise was a blow to his soul. And then he would use her, the way she wanted him to, with none of the love or tenderness that was there even in her most violent couplings with Spike. She was just a body, a vessel for his pain and hate.

He despised himself for it, but if Dru didn't get what she needed, she would shriek and hurt herself. The last time he'd tried to deny her, she'd nearly gouged her own eyes out.

A sudden hiss pulled him from within himself, and he turned to look at Dru. Her blanket had fallen to the floor, and she was holding Miss Edith out at arm's length, glaring at her.

"You mustn't tell tales," she spat, flinging the doll onto the couch. "There will be no tea and cakes for you. Naughty liars get only bread and water."

"Dru? What's wrong? Did you see something?" Angel asked gently.

"True love never dies," Drusilla murmured, her fingers fluttering and grasping at the air. "It can transmute, fade from one form to another, but it does not die. The pixies and the stars agree. Only spiteful Miss Edith says otherwise." She turned to face the door, one hand coming to tap at her temple in agitation, the long nails drawing blood. "I must…. I must tend to my garden. The daisies must be planted. The daisy boy will be back soon, and I've no flowers for him at all."

She picked up her blanket and draped it over herself once more, swaying towards the door, her movements as graceful as they could be with her injuries. She'd stay if her told her to, but she'd only end up hurting herself if he tried to keep her cooped up right now. She'd be back soon enough.

He walked past the couch – not wanting to move Dru's doll – and dropped onto the loveseat with a sigh, his head on one armrest while his calves were propped up on the other. He drifted into sleep, his mind pulled back into the same nightmares he'd endured during the brief rest of the day. He watched helplessly as a distorted version of himself did unspeakably vile things to Dru's sisters.

They stared at him accusingly, the youngest reaching out with maimed, bloodied hands towards his face. Her mutilated fingers against his lips suddenly became a mouth pressed to his own. A tongue sought and was granted entrance to slowly and sensually explore. The segue from troubled sleep to arousing reality was as horrifying in its own way as the nightmare, the touch of the tortured girl flowing into the familiar feel of the body pressing down on him.

He moaned into the kiss, instinctively reaching up to wrap his arms around the other person. He was only allowed to touch, to hold, for the briefest moment before the body pulled away, then squirmed between him and the back of the loveseat. His eyes opened just in time for him to be unceremoniously shoved to the floor.

"Where's Dru?" Spike asked, peering down at him from the loveseat.

"She said she needed to tend to her garden. With the mood she was in, I figured it was best to let her just go outside and play for a bit," Angel explained as he got to his feet.

Spike sat up and moved to one side of the furniture, his arm stretched along the top and one brow raised in obvious invitation. Angel sat beside him, curling his body so he could snuggle more easily against the smaller man. The arm slid down from the back of the loveseat to curve along his shoulders, holding him close and lightly petting.

"Bad dreams again, ducks?" he murmured sympathetically.

Angel nodded against Spike's chest, sighing and letting all of the tension drain away as his hair was nuzzled. He'd been in a bad place for the past couple of years, and he knew it. It went in cycles for him. His thoughts drifted to the offer he'd been given a few months ago. At the time, he'd been adamantly against it, now though….

"Do you think I should do it?" he asked. "Help that Doyle guy with his visions?"

"You know the answer to that, pet. You always do better when you've a mission, when you're out and about with the humans."

"They die so quickly," Angel whispered. He didn't make friends as easily as Spike, couldn't fling his entire being into friendships the way the younger vampire did.

"That they do," Spike said quietly. "They're candle flames. Any little thing can put 'em out, but they burn so bright while they go. Can't help but wanna dance with their flames, even though it hurts when they go out. Even though you wanna drink them down, take that heat and make it part of yourself."

The door opened, and just like that, Angel was abandoned as Dru wandered in, a small clutch of wildflowers in her hands. Her blanket fluttered to the floor, revealing dirt streaked in with the dried blood.

"Look at you, kitten, all a mess," Spike said, carefully stroking her cheek. She nuzzled his palm and smiled, holding the flowers out to him.

"Will you still love me when you don't know I'm here?" she asked as he took the floral offering.

"Of course I will, pet. I'll always love you. Forever and ever, my sweet," he said, his tone soothing and loving.

"Miss Edith said you wouldn't. The stars and pixies say it isn't so."

"Well then, Miss Edith is a filthy liar, isn't she?" He moved to the kitchen and filled a glass halfway with water before putting the flowers in it. "Let's get you all cleaned up, princess. If you're good and let me brush your hair after, I'll read you a story."

She smiled, her face lighting up in a way that made Angel's heart ache as he watched the two of them. "Will you sing to me in the bath, my pretty daisy boy?"

"'Course I will."

Spike took Drusilla's hands in his and slowly danced with her down the hallway towards the bathroom, humming and singing little snatches of songs to her along the way. The door closed behind them, leaving Angel alone with his thoughts.

…

…

Maggie Walsh studied the man sitting across from her as she considered his proposition. He was an older man, well dressed, with a sense of power about him. He could be an ally in her work, or an enemy, depending on how this meeting went.

"You're willing to provide that much funding just for one specific creature?" she asked, wondering what made this particular hostile sub-terrestrial so important.

"Yes, I am," the man replied in his upper class British accent. "This HST as I believe you call them is of great interest to my organization. All we ask is that you capture him and implant the behavior modification chip with the extra parameters we have asked for before handing him over to us. My people know quite a lot about your operation, including information about Hostile 19. Her name is Darla, and she's both traveled with and fought against the target. She can provide valuable knowledge on how best to capture him."

Walsh looked once more at the picture she'd been presented with. A man in black with bleach blond hair. He didn't seem like he'd be too much trouble for her boys.

"You have a deal, Mr. Travers."