 |
 Taming
the Beasts: Chapter 6
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel. Xander/Anya. Willow/Tara. Distribution: Sure, just let me know. Feedback: Is always nice. DarkRhiannon@aol.com Rating: NC-17. I mean it. Go away if you're too young. * Giles broke the protective circle with one frantic movement, rushing forward to the battered body of his Slayer. Buffy lay sprawled in a heap, her head thrown back against the floor. She had hit with such force that cracks radiated from her head like a miniature impact crater. Blood trickled slowly down those cracks, filling Giles with terrible fear. He was terrified to touch her, but reached out to check her eyes when his hand was suddenly wrenched away. Angel and Spike loomed above him, game faces on and growling fiercely. Spike darted to the other side of Buffy and knelt next to her, his growls intensifying at the blood dripping from her once- again-human mouth. Angel brushed Giles out of the way as if he were nothing but an insignificant gnat, kneeling where he'd been just moments before. "Buffy?" he growled softly as he reached a trembling hand to stroke the pale face of his mate. He was afraid to move her, afraid he might cause more damage to her tortured form, but also afraid not to touch her. His caresses were whisper light, smoothing the tangled golden-brown curls from her face. Spike straightened Buffy's left arm carefully, checking to make sure that it wasn't broken. Her once-tanned skin was bruising before his eyes, and he held her hand as gently as possible, hoping against hope that she was somehow all right. Buffy roused slowly at the soft growling of her mates. Her head ached with a stunning throb that made her roll painfully to one side, pushing Spike from her roughly as she lost the contents of her stomach. The men around her recoiled just a bit and Buffy struggled to her hands and knees. Giles approached cautiously, uncertain of his welcome after the pain the ritual had so clearly inflicted upon her. Her hair hung down into her eyes—the light brown curls staining a dark red from the blood welling from the shallow cuts on the back of her head. Buffy rose shakily, pushing at the floor with both hands in order to do so. Her eyes darted quickly to Angel, lighting for a moment upon Spike before skittering to meet Giles's own gaze. Despite the blood liberally spattering her face, Giles could see her blush. Her hands pulled at the stained shirt that she wore, worrying at the hem and fidgeting. "Buffy, dear, are you well?" Giles asked hesitantly, unsure that his charge had benefited from the ritual they'd performed. He gestured to the others to fall back and felt, rather than saw, Angel and Spike halt their instinctive rush to Buffy's side. The slayer grimaced, rubbing one arm gingerly . The impact of her body upon the floor had clearly hurt her…would likely have killed a normal human. "I'm…fine, Giles. No more Beast-Buffy," she replied, eyes flinching to Spike and Angel again before she stared at the floor. Her entire being seemed to shrink from the combined gazes of the four men, as if they physically weighed her down. Though elated at the sound of her voice, Giles was struck by how different this Buffy was. The Beast had been unafraid, volatile, certainly, but also uninhibited. By giving Buffy her conscious mind back, they had also returned to her all of the damaging memories and painful reactions that she now had towards people, especially men. At her words, Spike and Angel had rushed forward, encircling her in their arms in a spontaneous but gentle hug. Both were clearly overjoyed to have their mate's mind back and again Giles was struck by the purity of Angel's love for Buffy. The vampire could easily have delayed the ritual for his own gratification…could have taken advantage of the Slayer and slaked his physical need for her. That he had refused to even consider the idea raised Giles's estimation of him once again. Spike was harder for the Watcher to accept. The blond vampire was enthusiastically neutral if not truly evil any longer. His lust for life, including Buffy, was tempered only by his demonstrably strong love for the Slayer and his willingness to suffer and even die for those he loved. Giles was hesitant to impose his own presence upon the Slayer after she'd been through so much, but he wished to reassure himself and her that she was truly well, truly herself again. He stepped slowly forward and was surprised to see Buffy pull almost violently away from the vampires and throw herself into his arms. "Giles, thank you, thank you so much!" she cried as she hugged him to her small battered body. "I remember all of it…even when I couldn't speak. Thank you for making me, me again." Giles stroked her now clotted hair comfortingly, cuddling the girl who was closer to him than a daughter. "Buffy, I only wish I'd been here sooner," he choked out, pulling away from her just enough to take off his classes and polish them…hoping the calming motions would suppress the tears he felt welling within. He noticed her shivering slightly and her unfocused gaze and pulled his jacket off in one quick motion, laying it gently around her shoulders. "Shall we all depart, my dear?" he asked gently, his eyes flickering to Spike and Angel, who waited behind her, unsure of what she needed and seemingly unwilling to push. Buffy flinched from the gazes of her erstwhile lovers and leaned into Giles. "Can we, please," she asked plaintively. "I just want to go home." Angel and Spike nodded agreement and fell in behind Buffy and Giles, with Wesley bringing up the rear of the small procession. As they piled into Spike's car, Giles noticed that although Buffy crept into the front seat between her mates, she seemed to flinch from their touches whenever they reached for her. *Of course, she's bruised, probably concussed, you git,* he thought and wondered if they ought to swing round to hospital before heading back to Cordelia's former apartment. "Buffy, I suspect you have a concussion from the shock of the spell," Wesley chirped. "Shall we head to hospital and have you checked out?" he asked. "No," the Slayer answered, wiping at her bloody mouth with the sleeve of Giles's jacket before she realized what she was doing. Her head ached, but not any worse than it had on prior occasions when she'd gotten slammed into a wall, or floor. "I know what a concussion feels like. I'll tell you if it gets any worse. I just want a shower and some clothes. I feel, *naked, exposed, vulnerable,* cold." "We're just bloody glad you're better, Pet," Spike said, leaning toward her and attempting to smooth her unruly hair back from her face. He was visibly hurt when she flinched from his touch, before he smoothed out his face to his usually cocky expression. Buffy's face flamed. Her memories of being the Beast were crystal clear…clearer than most memories she had of being rational. Everything she'd done to…with both vampires cycled before her mind's eye and she dropped her eyes, deeply shamed. Clearly in her heart of hearts, she was nothing but a whore. She shook slightly, her emotions overwhelming her. She just wanted to get back to Cordy's, get a shower and go back to Sunnydale. And hide. Forever. Or at least long enough for everybody to forget Buffy the big slutty Beast. A century or two should be enough for her vampire lovers. Why they weren't looking at her with scorn, she didn't know. Angel's low voice rumbled at her and she turned to face him. "What?" "I said, tell us if you feel nauseated again, Buffy. We need to keep an eye on you, make sure that your head is all right. Concussions can be tricky things." The concern in his voice didn't quite match his grim expression and Buffy knew that he was thinking about her actions as well. Hell, she'd jumped him without a second's hesitation about the state of his soul. She was just glad that she was bad enough that he hadn't really enjoyed it. Otherwise, hello Angelus and once again it would be her fault. More death, more destruction, and all her fault. She was pretty certain that she couldn't handle that again without going completely mad. They arrived at the apartment and Buffy shrank from the offered hands of the vampires to climb out of the car on her own. They all trouped upstairs to the apartment and she gratefully moved into the bathroom, momentarily startled at the clean towel and robe floating toward her before she remembered Dennis. "Thanks Dennis," she muttered, closing the door firmly behind her as she took off Giles's blood-stained jacket and the torn and bloody shirt underneath it. *Beast-Buffy even dressed like a ho,* she thought, wincing as she shucked the garment and climbed into the already warm shower the phantom had started for her. Caked blood rinsed slowly from her scalp and she hissed at the pull of the scabs as they loosened and flowed away. Her accelerated healing had already closed the myriad cuts that had soaked her scalp. Head wounds were always the worst, she knew from countless other battles. Her head always bled the most. Her tongue throbbed where she'd bitten it, probably during the blast of magic that had shaken her mind back from wherever the earlier spell had squashed it to. As she slowly soaped and rinsed first her hair and then her body, Buffy spoke. "Dennis, could you please grab me some clothes from my bag?" she asked. She didn't want to…couldn't face the others wrapped in a robe or towel. She wanted the comfort of her familiar baggy clothes to hide behind. Finally, with a sigh, she turned off the water and dried herself off, wincing a little as her bruises ached. Preternatural healing was all well and fine, but she still felt every single blow, still ached just as much. Sometimes she thought the pain from healing so quickly was actually worse, though she really had nothing to compare it to. It was as if her body concentrated so much energy into healing that it had none left for suppressing pain. She'd learned when she was 15 not to let it show. Merrick had taught her to ignore it, push it to one side so she could do her job. So she gritted her teeth and climbed into her clothes. She reached bruised arms up to comb through her knotted hair. Clearly Beast- Buffy hadn't been into self-grooming either. She sprayed some conditioner in and began tugging at the snarls, hissing as the comb hit the knots. Suddenly cool hands pulled the comb from her grasp. Angel was there, pressed against her back, though of course, he didn't show in the mirror. Slowly and carefully, he worked the comb through her wet hair. At first, Buffy flinched from his touch, but he was careful and calm, not speaking, not demanding anything of her. She relaxed slightly into his soft touch, the headache pounding in her temples suddenly lessened. Her eyes closed as the rumbling purr of his contentment began to soothe her ragged nerves and calm her racing thoughts. By the time he was finished, she was practically asleep on her feet, and too relaxed to struggle much when he swept her into his arms and carried her to Cordelia's bedroom. He tucked her into the clean sheets and covered her, noting the layers in which she'd hidden herself away in passing. Spike hovered in the doorway, his agitated presence ruffling Angel's nerves. The younger vampire didn't approach the Slayer until he was certain she was fast asleep, only then moving forward to stroke her now-clean hair softly. "Something's fashing her, Sire, what is it?" He asked urgently. "I don't know for certain, Spike," Angel replied, settling his bulky frame into a small chair by the bedside and gazing broodingly at their lover. "She doesn't want to talk, though, I'll tell you that right now. She only calmed for me because I didn't speak at all." "She's been through so much, s'not surprising she'd be a bit shy with us, is it?" Spike thought back to the things they'd gotten up to whilst the Beast ruled their mate. "She was bloody fantastic, though," he grinned. Angel looked at him with a slight quirk of his lips. "That she was, Childe, that she was." To be continued… |
