Previously in "Sum": In searching for tools to fight the First, Buffy had a slight accident. The Scoobies are starting to learn the ramifications, beginning with a certain peroxide blond . . .
Chapter 2 Found
Spike had rarely been so happy to see sunset.
He’d only been in the house a few weeks, but living constantly in the presence of half a dozen teenage girls was becoming overwhelming. He hadn’t spent extended amounts of time in groups larger than a handful since he had been turned. But now he was living in the same small house with Buffy and her circle as well as the half dozen potential slayers, a number that threatened to grow by the week. A good dozen humans constantly surrounded him, each with their own load of emotional and physical baggage banging up against each other. Didn’t help that the little girls were curious, constantly sneaking into the basement for a look, a curious question, trying to figure out what was different about him when they had nothing to compare him to. It was tiring.
Being in the house brought other problems as well. An unexpected silver lining to his time in the hands of the First was that, for the first time since Africa, his head was clear. Enduring the pain the First had inflicted had forced him to narrow his focus to a pinprick, blocking out all the insanity the guilt that his new soul allowed him to feel had created. The agony had basically driven him sane.
But with the sanity came memory, and the house on Revello Drive was full of memories, each seeming to carry the seeds of loss or pain or sorrow. The kitchen where he and Joyce would talk for hours over coffee or hot chocolate. He didn’t think Buffy knew how often he visited her mother in the year after he was restrained by the Initiative. The living room couch where he and the Li’l Bit (Dawn. She wanted him to call her Dawn now.), where he and Dawn had spent hours and hours watching stupid movies when they didn’t want to think about Buffy being gone. The stairs Buffy had ascended and descended, bookends to her death, two of the most profound moments of his existence. The back porch where they had talked, so often when she was alone and hurting. The tree in the yard he had spread her under, making love to her in the moonlight.
The bathroom.
It was better for him to be out of the house. Away from all those memories and the intense feelings they aroused. It wasn’t always easy to do. The Scoobies tried to keep him on a short leash, and he didn’t fight them on it. Because she was usually the one holding it, and despite all the pain and sorrow, that was still exactly where he wanted to be.
He still loved her. More than before he had left, which he never would have considered possible. But she didn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t love him back. And that was fine with him. He had known going into the challenges in Africa that being with her was no longer an option. The soul had been a step toward atonement, of making up to her for all the transgressions he had made against her in the name of love, and not just that final one. That had only sealed his fate. After the soul, he hadn’t even had that much coherence, the only thought in his head an instinctive pull towards home. A home defined in his primitive mind not as the place where he’d been born and sired, but the place where he’d felt safest. Home sweet Sunnydale. Where all the women are tanned, all the men are well-off, and the screams in the night were answered by only a handful of people. So now he put himself entirely in her hands, to use or discard as she saw fit. He was hers to command, completely and utterly, for nothing he could do would ever be enough to atone for his sins. He doubted that even her death would free him, assuming he survived it. Which he wouldn’t, if he had anything to do about it. If she died, it would mean he had gone before her. The way it should have happened before.
That’s when the cries reached him. He turned, looking until he saw a slight figure struggling to break away from three men. They let her go with a laugh, giving her a moment’s head start before chasing after her. She ran for all she was worth, but she was no match for their speed. Spike raced toward her, suddenly realizing who the victim was. “Buffy!”
She saw him, turned towards the safety he offered. It took no time to reach her.
He turned with her as she caught the lapels of his jacket to swing behind him, pointing in the direction she had come. “H . . .h . . .help!”
His gaze swept back along her path to see the three vampires still chasing her. He armed himself without thought, taking two steps forward to meet the oncoming charge of the first, bracing himself to let the demon’s momentum drive the stake deep in his chest, carrying Spike through the dust to meet the next. Stupid mistake, he thought. These guys were fledglings, the first one only days old. What was she playing at? He blocked a punch and kicked back, catching number two in the gut and knocking him aside. He used the opportunity to glance back at her, saw her slumped in pain over one of the stones. Right. Fight first, questions later.
Another spin kick and he caught the fledgling’s incoming fist, keeping it up to leave his chest exposed as Spike backhanded the stake home. The dust cleared to reveal the third vamp, who’d been wise enough to slow down when he saw resistance. He turned and disappeared into the darkness.
He was about to follow when he heard Buffy’s soft call. He pocketed the stake as he went to her. “You all right? What happened?” He helped her gently into a sitting position.
“They cornered me by the front gate. I tried to break a shovel handle for a stake, but I couldn’t do it.” She took her hand away from her side, showing him the palm covered in blood. “They started fighting each other over who got to eat first. I ran.”
“Wait, you couldn’t break a shovel?”
She looked into his eyes, confused and a little scared. “My strength is gone. And my speed. You saw how quickly they were catching up to me.” She winced as she put pressure against her wound.
That galvanized him into action. “C’mon, we can talk later. Have to get you patched up first.” He helped her to her feet, and she relaxed into the supporting arm he put around her. “Harris’ place is closest.” He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. “We’ll fix you up and then see if we can figure out what happened.”
If you want more story, then you must