All About Spike
Chapter: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24

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By Rocky

Part 4

“Don’t!  It’s fine, leave it!”

“See?  This is what I’m talking about.  Let me see!”  I reached for his side.

“No!” he stumbled down the stairs to escape me.  “I bloody told you it’s fine!  Now, sod off!”

I chuckled.  “You always get all English when you’re mad.”

“Not mad,” he turned around.  “Just don’t need you being all touchy.”

I followed him to the floor.  He crossed to the sink.

“I can help.” I told him as he began to lift his shirt.

“Don’t want…” he froze halfway up, obviously pained.

I stepped closer, and he yanked the shirt off.  I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it had hurt.  He threw the shirt and clenched his hands hard to the sink, mumbling nonsense I couldn’t hear.  I stepped behind him.

“Slipping…” he muttered.  “Can’t keep up.  Drag you down.  Make you weak.”

“You don’t, Spike…turn around.”

He shook his head.  “Stake me.”

God, I am getting sick of this.  “Spike, you need to listen to me.  Now turn around and face me.”

He did.

“Now, if I stake you, you think it’s gonna make things better?  With you, or me?  Or between us?”  Oh God, I hope that came out right.

He didn’t answer, just stared back at me.

“I was gone, Spike.  I was gone, for months—dead, for months.  Did that help you?”  I watched him open his mouth to speak, but he held back as I continued.  “It didn’t help, Spike.  Every night you saved me, remember?”

His eyes fell.  “That is different.”

“How?  Tell me how—”

“Because I love you.”

He said it again.  How many times would I have to hear him say that before I die…again?  I couldn’t say anything back—my mouth clamped shut.  Nothing short of those three words said right back at him would work, and I was not going to say them.  Over my dead body…the final dead body.  Any man—or vamp—I said those words to was gone.  And I don’t want Spike to go.  I need his help.  Besides, I don’t love him…so I shouldn’t say it…right?

He was looking into my eyes now as he spoke.  “It’s not the same…not like it was with him.”

I realized who he was talking about and sighed.  “Spike, please don’t bring him into this.”

“He’s always bloody in it, Slayer!” his eyes closed and he stepped past me, holding his side.  “Always!  Just then, I could see him in your eyes.  You never let him out…and you never will…”

I started past him.  No way I was sticking around to hear him tell me what I think and feel.  But he grabbed my arm, his cold fingers digging into me.

“He’s the one who makes you walk away now.”

I wrestled for my arm, but he held strong.  “Let me go…”

His eyes met mine.  “Why don’t you see?”

I felt my heart burn.  Why does he have to look like that?  Doesn’t he know how hard this is?  “Let go!”  I slammed my fist into his side, and he cried out, crumbling to the floor.

Guilt singed my eyes as I watched him fall.  Why did I do that?  He balled up at my feet, coughing.  What now?  God, just get out of here.  He was struggling to his feet as I struggled up the stairs.

“Sweet dreams, Slayer.”

I slammed the door shut.

“At least you’re sleeping more these days.”


It was her.  I opened my eyes, and her gentle eyes stared back at me.  Her warm smile, and a flowing white gown.  She looked so right.


She nodded.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re having a well-deserved rest.” She smoothed my hair.  She felt like warm air—smelled sweet.  It was her.

“Mom?” I tried to touch her hand, but passed through it.  “I know I’m being all nosey and big-sistery, but…what did you tell Dawn?”

Her eyes saddened.  “The truth.”

“Okay, but…could I get the actual words?”

She leaned forward and whispered, “You're weak. Everybody is.

Everybody fails.”

I gasped, her words all too familiar.  I tried to place them as she continued.

“Maybe this evil power did bring you back, but if it did it's because it needs you. And that means you can hurt it.”

It hit me then.  Those were my words…to… “Angel?”

And Mom stood, smiling.

“Mom, wait!”

I sat up to my empty room.

“C’mon Buff, or you school-girls are gonna be late.” Xander warned.

“Just a second…” I stepped down into the basement.

Spike was stretched across the top of the blanket.  His side was wrapped.  Poorly.  Stubborn…should’ve let me help him.  He kept his eyes closed until I was next to him.

“Don’t talk.  Just listen.”

He squinted up at me, stretching his arms over his head.  He winced, bringing them back down again quickly.

I took a deep breath.  “Last night...can’t happen again.  Do you understand me?  We can’t talk like that anymore.…”

He was going to say something, but probably remembered my warning him not to talk.  He nodded, urging me to keep going.

“It makes us weak, Spike…Takes away our strength.”  I looked at his bandages.  “When we…talk…like that, we don’t pay attention to what’s going on around us, and…”

A slight smile crossed his face, and quickly disappeared.

“And we lose control of the power.”  I finished.

He sat up slowly, biting his lip as he bent his middle.  It was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke, “Can I say something now?”

I nodded.

“You sure?  Not gonna punch me in the gut now, are you?”


“Okay…” he sighed, “So, here goes…”  he placed his feet at mine and stood, moving his body close—too close.

I stopped breathing.  God, what is he doing?  I closed my eyes.

He tipped his head towards my ear, cold air brushing as his words came out,  “You prefer the fighter to the lover, then?”

Something inside of me shivered, and I gave him a slight nod.

His quiet eyes watched me, pulling himself away.  He stared in silence for a moment, biting his lip, before he seemed to find his words.  “Right then.  There’s something I need you to do…”

I stumbled down the stairs.  Dust pillowed up around my head, choking in my throat.  I glanced around when I reached the dirt-floor.  Something is seriously wrong with this basement.  I clicked on the flashlight and began to tiptoe through the halls.

It wasn’t long before I found some crates and boxes.  I rummaged through the wood.  Nothing.  A screeching rat scurried across a lid as I went to pick it up, and I jumped back.  Ew.  That box can stay open.

I wandered down more dark hallways, shadows passing over the weak walls.  I came to another opening—a more familiar one.  The light flashed over the bloodied rack that had held Spike…tortured him.

I ran my fingers across the dirt where Supervamp was born.  It was hardened now.  I stepped to the stained wood, touching where the beams met.  Blood began to pour down the wood.  This isn’t it.  Isn’t where I need to be.  I backed away and turned, and two Bringers waited for me.

They charged.  I threw the flashlight at one, but he must’ve blocked it.  They still came at me, so I rolled across the floor.  The continued past me and vanished into the wall.

I felt my heart in my throat.  It’s okay…nothing to worry about.  Just get it and…

“GET OUT!”  a dark scream boomed in my ears, pushing me to the gound.

Oh God.  I felt it all around me.  Just like that night with Miss Calendar…when she changed into that…

Run.  I pushed out of the room, or the fiery air pushed me out.  I didn’t look back at it.  What if it’s the Hellmouth?  What was I thinking?  Coming down here all by…

But then I saw it, out of the corner of my eye.  Draped across an old bookshelf.  Just get it.  Run over there and get it!

I sprinted towards the shelf.  A beam fell, pushing dirt up into the air.  I jumped and finally reached it.  Spike’s lousy leather jacket!  I clenched tight, pulling it up the stairs.  Boiling wind smoldered around me when I reached the door.  I went to yell as I pulled the knob, bolted or locked on the other side, and the wind pulled the air from my lungs.

I fell to the floor, pulling the coat over my head.  The wind swirled around, trying to lift it away, as the dark voice roared and echoed in my head.  My hand deep buried into a pocket, where I found the cold metal of Spike’s lighter.

Spike stepped into the living room.  I was at the weapons chest, pushing stakes and holy water aside for my axe.  I grabbed it out, and looked to Spike.

“See you’ve got what you want…” he nodded to the axe.  “What ’bout me?  Do I get what I want?”

I gripped the axe and went towards the door.  He followed, stopping with me at the closet.  I pulled the door open.

There it was.  His Big-Bad leather duster.

I watched his face.  His eyes seemed to gaze in wonderment before he lifted his hands to pull it out.  “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Alright,” I said as he pulled it on.  “Ready to kick some ass?”

A playful smile popped up.  “After you, Slayer.”

I turned, smiling with my back to him, and stepped outside.

He shut the front door.  “So, was it hard to find?”

My boots clicked against the steps.  “Nope.  Not hard at all.”

Continued in Part 5

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