Fluffy Listening to Fear

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E-mail Hilary

by Nebula

Note: This is a response to Challenge 43

She sighed as she headed downstairs. The smell of burning metal still lingered in the air. Her mom just needed rest. She’d be fine. Then why couldn’t Buffy believe that?

She leaned against the countertop, as her vision started to blur. No! No crying, Buffy. Bad. She couldn’t do that. Not now, when Dawn and her mom needed her to be strong.

Needing something to do, she grabbed the panhandle and tossed the whole thing into the sink. She didn’t feel like washing dishes at the moment.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. There was only one thing that could set her senses on full alert like that: a vampire. She reached into the basket hidden behind a few plants on the counter and grabbed a stake. Gripping it tightly, she allowed the tingling sensation to guide her.

She walked towards the basement door and closed her eyes. Hopefully she could get rid of the thing and not wake her mom or her sister up. She took a deep breath and flung the door open.

A familiar looking vampire, surprised, stumbled through the basement doorway. Buffy held back a sigh of irritation and dropped back from her slaying position.

“S’not funny to do to a bloke, sneakin’ up on him and all. Heard someone up here and thought it was a demon.”

“Yes, Spike, how could it ever have been me? It’s just my house,” Buffy replied, letting the sigh out. She frowned, suddenly realizing something. “Wait a minute. What were you doing in my house, anyway?”

Spike’s smug look dropped into one of embarrassment. “I…uh…” He tried to stuff something into the pocket of his leather jacket without her noticing.

He failed. “What were you doing?” she asked, very interested in what he was holding.

“Well, I’m still evil, you know, and if I can’t bite people no more, I gotta do evil a diff’rent way.”

“As in…?”

“Stealin’,” he said firmly.

“Stealing? You’re telling me that you were stealing from me?”

“Well…yeah.”

“What exactly were you stealing?”

If vampires could blush, she’d sworn he would have. His eyes widened, then dropped to look at his shoes. “Um…I…” He sighed, awaiting the hit he knew was coming.

To his surprise, she didn’t hit him, but merely groaned. “You know what? Right now, I don’t really care. You caught me on a good day.”

“Why, thank you, teacher,” he said sarcastically.

Buffy ignored him. “But you’re not getting off that easy.” She glanced at the sink. Suddenly washing dishes appealed to her greatly. She turned back to Spike. “I’ll wash the dishes, and you’ll dry ‘em. Got it?”

“No! Forget you! A master vampire does NOT wash bloody dishes!”

“They’re not bloody, just a little dirty. Besides, you get the easy part. And hey, if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.” She turned and headed for the sink.

Spike fumed. How dare she do this to him? Humiliate him like this? She already knew he was ‘neutered’, but did she have to rub it in? He ripped his coat off and flung it into a nearby chair. At least she hadn’t asked for him to give back what he’d stolen. If she found out it was pictures of her, he’d stake himself right then and there, his humiliation complete.

He marched over to her and yanked the towel off the kitchen counter. She rolled her eyes and handed him a dish she’d already washed. He pulled it out of her hands and rubbed it dry, still furious at her.

They formed a silent pattern between the two of them: she’d wash, and hand the clean dish into his awaiting hand. Vampire speed allowed him to finish quicker then her, and it started to annoy her. Seeing her pinched lips only made him move quicker.

Buffy gritted her teeth and reached for the next dish, determined to beat him at his speed race. It was only then that she realized she was washing the pan from earlier. She turned it over slowly and examined the bottom. It was a little black, but the metal had held up, surprisingly well. She cringed inwardly as she thought back to what her mother had done. Her vision began to blur as she thought back to her mom burning the pan, and calling her fat. She started scrubbing harder as the doctors and hospitals and the brain tumor came rushing back at her.

Spike sighed. How many more dishes was he going to have to dry before he’d served his sentence? He held out his hand and waited for the next dish.

After a few moments, he frowned and glanced over at Buffy. She never took this long washing something. He found Buffy scrubbing away at a pan that looked squeaky clean to him. Instead of handing the pan to Spike, however, she continued to scrub even harder. It was only then that his acute hearing let him pick up a barely audible sound: a sniffle. He blinked and looked at her even closer. Tears were streaming down her face, and every now and then she’d sniffle. She began to shake until she dropped the pan into the sink. She leaned against the counter and hung her head, her sobs racking her body.

Spike dropped the towel onto the counter and turned off the water. Why was she so upset? “Don’t fret, luv, the pan looked pretty clean to me,” he joked, his former anger gone.

“She’s getting worse,” she finally whispered, before choking up again.

Spike didn’t need to ask who. “She’ll be all right, you’ll see,” he said softly. When she didn’t turn, he reached out cautiously and slowly began rubbing circles into her back, trying to calm her.

Unfortunately, it only made her cry more. She buried her face in her hands and leaned against his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Slightly surprised by the action, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her back and forth, stroking her hair as he whispered words of comfort to her.

They stood there for awhile before she finally stepped away. “I can’t. If I start now…”

“You’ll never be able to stop,” he finished for her, as she dried her eyes on her sleeve.

Buffy nodded, realizing what she’d just done. “Yeah, I’m really scary, huh? My greatest punishment to you is drying dishes, and then I break down. Yeah, watch out for the slayer, she’s a dangerous one.” She sniffled again, and looked down at the kitchen tiles.

Spike chuckled slowly. “It’s perfectly normal to cry, pet. And yeah, you are a dangerous slayer. I mean, I’m the Big Bad, and how many times have you kicked me around?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the arm. “Give me a break, Spike. Dawn could kick your butt.”

“Could not!”

“Right.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Any time, pet. Any time.” He reached out his hand and brushed stray hairs away from her face, sending shivers down her spine. He smiled at her and said, “So, you wanna finish up the dishes and…”

“BUFFY!!!”

Spike dropped his hand and glanced in the same direction Buffy did: the stairs. “Dawn,” Buffy whispered, before letting her slayer instincts kick in. She raced up the stairs, Spike right behind her.

They found Dawn peering through Joyce’s bedroom door. “What’s going on?” Buffy asked, as Dawn flashed Spike a quick smile.

“There’s something out there, I don’t know what it is, but it was attacking Mom, and…”

“It’s okay, Nibblet, we’ll handle it,” Spike said, cutting off her rambling.

“Where did it go?”

“I…I don’t know. I just rammed it out of the room and locked the doors, then I yelled for you.”

“Is Mom okay?”

Dawn nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Lock the door and stay in there until I come and get you guys.” Buffy turned to Spike. “You with me?”

Spike nodded. “I said we’d handle it, didn’t I? Did you catch the ‘we’ this time?”

Buffy gave him a look as he smirked. “Just stay with me. Wouldn’t want you to get eaten or anything pleasant like that,” Buffy said, turning so he couldn’t see her grin.

“Hey!”

“Shh! I can’t listen for it if you make so much noise,” she hissed.

“Bloody ‘ell, woman,” he muttered, following her back down the hall.

Cautiously, Buffy glanced in her room. “Sense anything?” she asked, not able to hear anything.

Spike shook his head. They investigated the bathroom and Dawn’s bedroom as well, with the same results.

“Well, then where’d it go?” Buffy asked, frustrated, as they closed Dawn’s door.

“Maybe downstairs?”

Buffy thought for a moment. “Maybe,” she admitted. “C’mon.”

They had reached the end of the hallway and were about to turn towards the stairs when Spike stopped. Buffy turned around, watching his face frown.

“Can you feel anything?” she asked quietly.

Spike nodded. “Gettin’ something,” he said, whipping around. The hallway was empty.

Buffy sighed. “It’s probably right below us or…” She shrieked as the creature landed on top of her from its perch on the ceiling. The force from it jumping on her was enough to knock her backwards and send her tumbling down the stairs.

“Buffy!!” Spike yelled, running to the top of the stairs. The creature was gone, and Buffy was struggling to her feet.

Spike raced down the stairs and helped her to her feet, holding her up as she began to sway.

“You all right?” he asked, worried.

Buffy nodded, looking dazed. “I think…I think I’m dizzy,” she mumbled, before falling back into Spike. As he caught her, he felt something wet touch his arm. He glanced down and saw a red smear from where Buffy’s head had been. The smell of it was enough to confirm that it was her blood.

He pulled her hair back gently and found a gash on the left side of her head. He bit his lip and started to move her towards the sofa, only to have her shake her head, struggling to get out of his grasp.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I’m not leaving that thing in my house.”

“I’m sure it’s scampered by now, pet,” Spike said, trying without much success to pull her into the living room.

“No, it hasn’t. I saw it head for the kitchen. C’mon, we can take this thing down,” she said, finally pulling herself away from him and heading for the kitchen. Holding back a sigh of irritation, he rubbed his forehead and followed her.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Buffy headed for the block of knives on the counter. She pulled out the biggest and started searching.

“Don’t I get anything?” Spike asked, giving her a look.

“You already have a weapon,” she said, indicating his fangs.

He frowned. “I’m not bitin’ into that thing! Looked like a huge cockroach. Probably another mess made by the Initiative.”

“Possible, but I’m thinking it has to do with Glory. Either way, we’re killing it.”

Before Spike could comment, the creature leapt up from its hiding place and launched itself at Buffy, knocking her to the floor. In all the tumbling, her knife was knocked from her hand, where it skidded across the floor until it stopped at Spike’s feet. He picked it up and strode over, ready to stab.

He never got the chance. The creature, as if sensing the new threat, threw itself from Buffy to Spike. He struggled with it for a few moments, until Buffy grabbed it and tossed it off of him. The creature picked itself up quickly, and before Buffy could administer any kicks to it, it slammed its body into Buffy sending her clear across the room. She hit the wall and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

“BUFFY!” Spike cried out. His fear for her turned to fury as he began to slash at the creature. It hissed and thrashed around, but couldn’t find an escape. With a cry of rage Spike drove the knife into its chest. It squealed, then stopped moving.

Spike lost no time in hurrying over to Buffy. The gash, which had been in the process of closing, had been jolted open again. He cringed, then gently picked her up and moved her to the sofa.

He hurried back to the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit out of the cupboard above the sink. He came back into the living room and knelt beside her. Opening the kit, he found bandages, tape, and other assorted things, most of which had been opened, by the looks of it. He didn’t even want to start thinking about how many times she must have had to use that kit.

He had just started to wrap up her head when she began coming to. She rested her eyes on the first aid kit and started to sit up. One gentle but firm push from Spike had her lying on the sofa again, a confused look on her face.

“Bumped your head comin’ down the steps. Think you made it worse when that slimy thing threw you against the wall,” he said, taping the bandage up.

Tentatively, she reached up with her left hand and felt around for the gash. She grimaced as she realized just how big it was.

“How you feelin’?”

“Just a little dizzy and light headed, I guess,” she said. “With a sudden throbbing pain in my skull. Wonder what that’s from,” she said dryly.

He smirked. “Gee, I couldn’t guess.” They smiled, before her eyes widened.

“Dawn! She’s still waiting for me to tell her the coast is clear,” she said, pushing herself up quickly.

She gasped in pain as the world started spinning. She felt her arms, which she had used to push herself up, give way, and she felt herself falling. It was only then that she realized she’d missed the couch somehow and was now falling towards the ground.

Within the seconds this had all occurred, Spike had caught her, and was gently lifting her back onto the sofa. “Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, luv. Give your head time to fix itself.”

“Just help me up; I need to get upstairs and tell Dawn. Plus, I’m not staying down on the sofa all night.”

“Look, I’ll tell Dawn everything’s okay, and you just sit tight, all right?”

She glared at him. “Go ahead; you know the minute you’re gone that I’ll try getting up again.”

He sighed. “You’re a royal pain in the butt, you know that?”

She grinned. “Proud of it.” She winced as pain shot through her head.

Suddenly she felt strong arms wrap around her. “What are you doing?” she hissed, as Spike headed for the stairs.

“Not lettin’ you walk up the stairs on your own. So, I’m bringin’ you up.”

Buffy felt her cheeks flush. The only sound that broke the silence that followed was Spike’s footsteps as he headed up the stairs.

The first stop he made was her room, where he was thankful the covers had already been pulled back. He laid her down on her bed and gently pulled the covers up around her.

Buffy snuggled into her blankets and listened as Spike told Dawn that the creature was gone, and that she could stop hiding. She knew her sister’s response even before it left her mouth.

“I’m not hiding!” Dawn hissed at him.

“Right, sure you’re not,” Spike agreed, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Where’s Buffy?”

Buffy closed her eyes. She was a goner. He’d tell her sister, who’d tell her mom, and the last thing her mom needed right now was to worry about someone else’s head.

“Ah, got tired. I think she headed to bed.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. He hadn’t said a word about the injury.

Spike came back in and shut the door behind him. “You gonna be all right?” he asked, worry still laced in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Slayer healing and all that.” She paused for a second. “Why didn’t you tell Dawn about…?” she pointed to her head.

He shrugged. “Knew you didn’t want kid sis worrying anymore then she had to.”

Buffy was about to reply when something dawned on her. She frowned. “Spike?”

“Mm hm?” he replied, turning towards the door.

“Why did you help me?”

“Stupid question. It was a demon, and I gotta get my hits in somehow.”

“Not just with the demon. Wrapping my head, bringing me upstairs, not saying a word to my sister, you get the drift.”

Spike gulped. Oh crap. “Had nothin’ else to do, really. Speakin’ of things to do, I’ll take the critter out of the house and get rid of it for you.” He started towards the door again.

She blinked, then began to smile. He was avoiding the question. “Spike…” she said, a warning tone in her voice.

He had had his hand on the doorknob…he sighed. “I…I dunno. Didn’t want you to get hurt, is all.” He hung his head.

Buffy couldn’t believe her ears. Had he just said what she thought he’d said? “You didn’t want me to get hurt?” she repeated.

He shut his eyes. Wasn’t making this easy on him, now was she? “Yeah. Just thought you had enough to deal with. Didn’t need anything else on top of all your other problems.”

He was worried about her problems. He was worried if she got hurt. All in all, he was worried about her. She let the smile spread. He was so cute when he got caught…wait a minute, whoa, whoa, did she just call him cute? Head damage. Yeah, that was it. It was the head damage.

He cringed, waiting for her response. If she couldn’t see it now, she was blind. How would he dig himself out of this one?

“Oh. Okay.”

Spike blinked. She was just going to dismiss it? Just like that? He turned to look at her, surprise written all over his face.

She was smiling at him, a smug look on her face. She did know. And she was leaving him a chance to leave it as it was. He nodded, and opened the door.

“And Spike?”

Okay, maybe she wasn’t going to leave it alone. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously.

“Thank you.”

Never before had Buffy ever seen him really smile until that moment. His face lit up, and he turned back to her, his smile wide enough to crack his face.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, then closed the door behind him. He headed down the stairs to dispose of the demon, with Buffy thoughts running around in his head.

The End