Her Saving Grace, 8/?, Spike/Fred, R

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Title: Her Saving Grace
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Fred, mentions slight Fred/Wesley
Spoilers: Angel S5
Chapter: Eight of ?
Prompt: #27 - Hamartia for tamingthemuse
Warnings: Character death (not the permanent variety)
Summary: An accident one night changes Fred's entire world. Shunned by the people who should care the most, she turns to the one person who does care, and finds something beyond friendship.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Seriously. Not even my mind these days.

Word count: 3730


Pretty by mentalme85

Previous parts here





Pretty by garnettrees

Chapter 8: A Slayer In Hand is Worth...

Buffy's eyes were even wider than Fred's were, which was saying something. She glanced at Fred, bewilderment on her face, and then at Spike, her bewilderment growing, if anything. No one made a sound.

“Buffy? Did you find them?”

Angel's voice from above became increasingly louder, and Fred knew it was only a matter of time before he came down to see what was taking Buffy so long. Buffy parted her lips, and Spike gestured wildly, halting whatever she'd been about to say. “Don't,” he said, his voice so soft that even Fred could only hear his hard 'd's and sharp 't's. “Please don't. Trust me on this one, please.”

Buffy paused for a micro-second, and Fred's fingers dug in tighter to Spike's duster, which she hadn't even known she'd grabbed on to. Buffy's eyes followed her small movement, and Fred wondered what it was like to be a Slayer. Did she feel the same things Fred felt, except for an added heartbeat? Could she sense vampires like Fred could? She'd only had experience with one Slayer, and that was Faith. The memories there were...blurred. She could see Faith clearly, but she didn't know anything about how she'd gotten out of jail or why. Wesley showed up prominently in the memories when she could catch them, as did Willow Rosenberg, of all people.

She wondered what she was missing.

Then Buffy was turning back up the stairs and calling, “No, they're not. They must've ducked and headed the other way while we were distracted.” She turned back to them and gave a sweet smile that was heard in her tone. “I'm so sorry Mrs. Manning; I didn't mean to disturb your evening. You, um, have a nice night!”

She headed up the stairs, stopping on the second one up and leaning her torso back into the hallway so she could see them. I'm coming back later, she mouthed, a firm line set in her lips. Fred decided that she didn't like that look on her.

Spike nodded tersely, and Buffy disappeared from view. Spike pulled back into the apartment, and Fred moved with him, her fingers still tightly embedded in his duster. He shut the door as he normally would, and she could see the strain it was taking him to not shut it quietly or quickly. The click as it closed made her jump, she was wound so tightly.

Spike sighed heavily, resting his hand against the door, and the rest of himself against his hand. They stayed that way for a few moments; he leaning against the door, and she clinging to his duster like a kitten clinging to a tree branch. That had been way too close. What had been a really fun evening had almost turned into a monstrosity. One that could've gotten them both dusted, if Angel had had his way.

The fries in her stomach made her wish she hadn't eaten them.

Her right hand suddenly felt heavy, and just when she realized that she was holding an empty duster, Spike wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “It's all right, luv,” he whispered. “I'm here. I've got you.”

Fred let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and collapsed against him, suddenly feeling strung out and weak. It was as if all the adrenaline had left her body, and her body was finally feeling what it should be feeling: exhausted.

She wasn't sure if it was mentally or physically. Or emotionally. Or all three.

Spike's hand gently drifted down to her right hand, which was still clutching his duster. He gave her hand a tender squeeze, and it was enough to relax her grip. He pulled the duster from her fingers, letting it fall to the floor in a graceless heap.

It's what she felt like doing, and probably would do in a minute.

“My dancer doesn't do 'graceless',” Spike said softly, making her realize she must've said her words out loud.

“She does tonight,” Fred mumbled. Her eyelids felt so heavy, and she felt as if all her energy was seeping from her body to the floor, pulling her down with it.

With one smooth movement he gathered her in his arms, his right arm tucked carefully beneath her knees, his left arm supporting her in a way that made her think of a steel chair with the comfiest cushion. Strong but soft. Gentle but safe. It was about all she could take right then, the only thing she could take.

She closed her eyes and laid her head against his chest, letting herself just rest. She could feel all of her tense muscles slowly start to relax. She didn't want to think, didn't want to know anything except for the way his arms felt around her. That was as far as her knowing and thinking could extend. They moved down, and she could feel his body sinking into the sofa.

She sank herself further into him, and let sleep claim her weary body.

When she awoke, it was to the sounds of patient knocking. She blinked a few times, then realized that she could still feel Spike's arms around her. She glanced up at him, and he gave her a small smile. “How long was I out?”

“Few hours,” he said, letting her sit up.

“If you had any blood in your legs...” she said, and he chuckled.

“Vamps don't get pins and needles, pet, and a good thing too.”

The knocking came again, still as patient, but a little more firm. “I'm assuming Buffy,” Fred said.

Spike nodded. “I'm assuming, too. Well, I really know it's her; can hear her heartbeat and I know her scent better than the back of my hand.”

Fred rose, her body no longer as tired as it was before. She didn't exactly feel refreshed, but she felt okay enough to deal with the world and whatever it wanted to throw at them.

Hopefully, it didn't want to literally throw Buffy at them, because fighting a Slayer wasn't something Fred wanted to put into the lengthy equation that was her life.

Spike rose and headed for the door, opening it to reveal Buffy with her arms crossed. “Can I come in?” she asked quietly. Her body language said she was angry and upset, but her voice sounded...tired. And sad-upset.

Spike nodded, and she stepped inside. “Does he know we're here?” Spike asked once he'd closed the door.

Buffy shook her head. “No; he believes me completely on the matter. Like I believed him on the matter when he called me. Looks like we're both believable liars, but right now, I do not want to be compared to him.”

Fred felt herself cheering a little at that. That was good; Buffy on their side was good. Good. Good good good.

Her nerves were coming back, that much was obvious.

Buffy turned her gaze to Fred, and there was a pain in them. “I'm so sorry,” she said softly. “I really am.” It didn't take a genius to know she wasn't apologizing for Angel and the chase.

“Spike's been my knight in shining armor,” Fred said simply, giving Spike a quick smile. He grinned a cocky grin, but he ducked his head as if bashful.

She really wished he wasn't that cute. That would make this a lot easier, considering the love of his life was in the room with them. Blonde, beautiful, confident and strong, and no, Fred had NOTHING to be jealous of. She wouldn't want to be Buffy in the slightest and have all of those things, oh no.

Not to mention the hold Buffy still had over Spike. Fred wouldn't want that, either.

Buffy looked a little relieved at Fred's words. “He's good at that,” she said, glancing at Spike. Now Fred was certain that if Spike could blush, he would. His grin turned into a smile that said “Aw, shucks ma'am” without him having to say a word. Besides, she didn't think she'd ever hear those words from Spike's mouth, and she sort of didn't want to. He wouldn't look right saying them.

He glanced up a moment later, frowning at Buffy. “You looked surprised when you saw us,” he said. “Was it because you caught sight of us, or...?”

Buffy sighed and slumped into a nearby chair. Spike took a seat across from her, and Fred took a seat between the two of them, completing the triangle. “My shock had to do with you being undead and not a pile of ashes in Sunnydale, and Fred being a vampire. Sort of makes you blink and go 'what the hell'?”

Spike stared at her. So did Fred. “You didn't know he was back?” Fred sputtered. “But then why did...?”

“Angel didn't tell me it was you two,” Buffy said quietly, and Fred saw for a moment not the alluring blonde with confident poise, but a woman who had been through wars, lost many people along the way, and had a future full of the same. That was, if she managed to live that long to see it. With all the Slayers now in the earth, some might say that the world was off of Buffy's shoulders.

If anything, Fred thought it was even more firmly on her shoulders than before, and she decided she didn't envy Buffy in the slightest, and she'd never want to be in her shoes. The decisions she'd have to make and live with for the rest of her days...

“He told me that there were two vampires, a master and his childe, running around LA on a potentially dangerous spree,” Buffy continued, rolling her eyes. “I assumed they were two new vamps on the block that he was having problems containing. I never would've thought it was you two, but...”

“I didn't turn her,” Spike said, frowning even harder now. “Wish I could find the bloody bastard who did.”

“So do I,” Fred said. A moment passed, before she anxiously rose her head up to Spike. “Not that I don't like being with you and learning new things and having my five senses in a way I never thought I could, but...that night was probably the scariest of my entire life,” she admitted softly. “And the morning after...”

Those two points were going directly into her mental “DO NOT OPEN” file folder.

“I know, pet,” he said, and Buffy bit her lip.

“I'm glad you're doing okay,” she said. “It sounds like you're adjusting pretty well. Did Angel give you your soul back, or...no, he must not have, because then he wouldn't have called me in a worried rush...”

“I don't have my soul,” Fred told her, wondering if she'd believe her. “At least, I don't think I do. Spike and I talked about it.”

Buffy froze, her eyes wide on Fred. Then she turned to Spike, blinking. “You were right, then,” she said, sounding stunned. Spike simply nodded.

“Think so, at any rate,” he said. “I don't have 100% proof on the matter, but I think I was right.”

“You told her about your theory?” Fred asked him. Spike nodded.

Fred let out a sigh of relief. “That makes things a LOT easier. Angel didn't believe us.”

“Angel wouldn't,” Buffy muttered. “The man's got a complex that even Freud would cry over...”

Spike snorted, and Fred felt her lips turning up into an almost smile. It didn't last very long, though, when the knowledge that complex or not, Angel was calling in the big guns to take them out.

Well, maybe not. She'd assumed as much, but assuming wasn't the healthiest of ways to live your life. Or in her case, unlife. “What exactly did he call you in to help with?” Fred asked, leaning forward. Spike frowned, obviously not following her train of thought. “Did he want you to chase us all over LA, and was the night supposed to end in a dusting? Or did he want us captured and brought to him?”

Spike's eyes widened as he caught on, and it was Buffy's turn to frown. “He didn't say,” she admitted. “He just said he needed help with the situation, something he needed to fix before it became a bigger problem.”

“Probably not a dustin', then,” Spike said darkly, and Fred felt goosebumps rise up her spine at his tone and what he was referring to. Angel hadn't wanted them staked; he'd wanted them under his hand, probably to quell 'the beast' he thought she had. Who knew what he'd do to Spike.

“Something tells me I really don't want to know what's going on,” Buffy said, glancing between Spike and Fred with a wince. “Between your rage and her fear, this can't be good.”

Spike sighed, glancing up at Fred. His fury melted away at whatever he saw on her face, and he gave her a soft smile. He said nothing, though, and she knew he was leaving the story up to her to tell. Only if she wanted to.

For some reason, despite the situation, despite the story and its background and its implications with today, she felt calm. Just one look from Spike, and she knew she'd be okay no matter what. Safe. Protected. Lov...

Fred shook herself and turned to Buffy. “A few nights ago, I headed back to Wolfram and Hart to gather my things. Angel was there waiting, and he tried to take me, telling me that he would help me 'quell the inner beast', the one I didn't even feel that I had. When I told him that I didn't feel rage or the urge to eat people, he got angrier, and it was Spike's fist that got us out of there before Angel could grab me.”

Buffy's eyes were wide. “That son of a bitch,” she seethed, and Fred was very glad that anger wasn't directed at her. Buffy could be downright scary when she wanted to be.

Either Spike was immune to her anger after years of dealing with it, or he was hiding his fear very well. “Don't get your knickers all twisted just yet pet; Angel's got a reason of sorts for what he's doin'. Accordin' to what he and the world believes, vampires are bad and evil, can't be good, have no Jiminy Cricket on their shoulders to tell them what's right or wrong. That comes with the soul, which has to be cursed back on or earned. Unfortunately, he refuses to believe anythin' else. For someone who lives so much in the gray areas of life, he sees the world too often in blacks and whites, which would be his hamartia.”

Fred blinked and looked at him. Buffy blinked and looked at him.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Aristotle. Means tragic flaw.”

“I think Fred's pulling out your inner geek,” Buffy teased, and Fred gave an honest to goodness giggle. She wasn't sure if it was stress-relief or because she knew it was true, but she was giggling all the same.

“She did not,” Spike said, before crossing his arms and putting his nose in the air. “Was already there.”

This time, Buffy joined in Fred's giggle, and after a few moments of his pose, Spike started chuckling as well. The mirth passed a few moments later, but left behind air that wasn't as tense.

Buffy yawned and stretched her arms over her head. “If it's all sorted out, then I'm going back to my hotel room to get some much needed sleep. I'm still on New York time, and having been up for two days without any sleep doesn't make for a happy Slayer.”

“We really appreciate you, you know, hearing us out,” Fred said, smiling at her. “We need all the people supporting our side of things as we can have.”

Buffy nodded. “I can imagine. One of the first things I'd suggest to you both, and I know what you're going to say Spike, but you might want to consider getting the hell out of LA.” Spike glared at her, and Buffy held up her hands in surrender. “It's not safe for you here. And one of these days, Angel WILL catch you guys.”

Spike began to speak, then stopped, glancing over at Fred. His eyes caught hers, and she wondered what he was looking for. His gaze had concern in it, a soft sort of something with it, which puzzled her even further. She liked knowing all the factors to something; it made it easier to compute the equation and know the exact result.

He turned back to Buffy, giving her a small nod. “Might not be a bad idea,” he admitted softly. “Until we can figure out how to convince Angel that we're not against him, or going to attack the city, or whatever the hell it is that he thinks we're going to do.”

Buffy turned her own gaze to Fred, then slowly turned back to Spike. She obviously hadn't missed the look Spike had given Fred. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asked, nodding her head towards the bedroom. Spike frowned slightly but acquiesced, and they headed for the room. “We won't be long,” Buffy promised Fred, before shutting the door behind them.

“Okay,” Fred said a moment too late, and she thought for a minute about going over to the doorway to listen. Then she realized she didn't have to, and simply sat where she was, trying to open her ears all the way.

Ten minutes later, and the blonde duo emerged. Fred immediately shoved down her small frustration at not having been able to hear their conversation. They must've talked softly, too softly for even Fred to pick up on.

It had been a private conversation, anyways, and she felt foolish and slightly embarrassed that she'd tried to eavesdrop on them.

She still wanted to know what they'd talked about, though, embarrassed or not.

“I'll see if I can't figure out the intricate details of what's going on with Angel,” Buffy promised. “I'll contact Willow while I'm at it, see if I can't get you guys hooked up with some more support.”

“Thanks, pet,” he said, and Buffy nodded.

“Good luck guys, and please be careful,” Buffy pleaded, before heading out into the hall. Spike closed the door behind her, looking thoughtful.

“So...what's up?” Fred asked as subtly as she could manage. It wasn't very subtle; maybe she should go for a slight conversation change. “And hooked up with what now?”

“More support,” he mused, shrugging. “Got as much clue on that as you do. As for Buffy...”

“You don't have to tell me,” Fred said, her curiosity being overpowered with a surge of guilt. “If it's private, which it obviously was, because you guys went into another room with a closed door to talk, which sort of hints that it was just meant for the two of you and not anyone else, so I really don't deserve to know what was talked about, or...”

Spike placed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “You know, you don't need to breathe anymore, so your babble could go on for a lot longer than you realize,” he said with a smile. Fred gave a sheepish grin. “All she wanted to know was where she and I stood. Relationship wise.”

“You love her,” Fred said simply. It wasn't a question; she knew Spike still did. She didn't need to see longing glances at the blonde or hear her name being spoken wistfully from his lips to know that. Not that he'd done any of those things yet, but it still went to prove her point.

“Always will,” Spike said just as simply. “Just not relationship-love. Buffy helped me get my humanity back, helped me become the man I am today. But...we're not meant to be. I know that much now. She's been my partner in both senses, and I think I liked it better when we were the talking and slaying partners. Not that the sex wasn't great, mind, but...we didn't connect. Not like I wanted to. Not how we did when we just talked.”

“So...best friends?” Fred asked tentatively.

Spike nodded. “Best friends, and we're both the happier for it. Wish I'd realized that sooner. She doesn't want me out of her life, but I don't hold that place in her heart. I do hold some place in her heart, though, that much she's told me. Just not that one.”

Something wasn't right with this. Fred kept running the formula in her head, and something was out of place with what should've been the obvious answer. Then she realized what it was. “You're not upset,” she said, shocked. “You're...okay with this?”

“More than,” Spike admitted. “I missed my friend. And I'm glad I've got her back.”

Fred blinked. “Oh. That's good. I'm glad you got her back.”

“Me too,” Spike said, and Fred smiled.

Then she frowned, realizing that the look Spike had given her couldn't have prompted that conversation. Not really; there had to be something else. “Why'd you change your mind about LA?” she asked. It's what Buffy must've thought, which might've led to her asking about it, and Spike's answer would've been...

Spike gazed at her again, his eyes locking with hers once more, and he reached his hand out, palming her cheek. “Me I wouldn't care risking. Angel can pound and holler at me all he likes, but I'm not risking you. If getting out of LA'll keep you safe, then I'll do it and gladly.”

She glanced down, happy that she couldn't blush, because her face would've been bright red. Her eyes rose back up to meet his, and he smiled.

“We'll lie low for a few days, wait until Buffy comes back to tell us what's what,” Spike said, rising from his kneeling spot in front of her. He offered her his hand, and she took it, her gaze soon almost meeting his. “Then...we'll go from there, I suppose.”

“That works,” Fred said. “Until then, I'll just have to work on pulling out your inner geek even more.”

“Really don't think that's possible, luv,” he said, but there was a small grin starting on his face.

Fred raised her eyebrows at him. “You want to bet?”

< --- >

No cliffhanger...

.........this time. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...

*coughcoughHACK*

Erm, yes. Carry on.

~Nebula