Her Saving Grace, 15/25?, Spike/Fred, R

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Putting a tentative number on this that may be blown out completely, but that's the number I'd like to stick to.

And sorry for the shortness of the chapter; my muse Astra and I had a discussion tonight about what course the story should take, and she basically deleted my entire chapter I had planned. Hence, I had to quickly rewrite it so it could take the form it needed to take, and it's cut in half because I still need to do surgery on the second half. But this half is an okay chapter on its own, so we'll go with it. Savvy?

EDIT: The title of this particular chapter is from "Leave the Pieces" by the Wreckers, whom I heart simply because Michy Branch is part of that. Otherwise, no. No love.

Title: Her Saving Grace
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Fred, mentions slight Fred/Wesley
Spoilers: Angel S5
Chapter: Fifteen of ?
Prompt: #35 - Bouncy Ball 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.

Wordcount: 1741

Previous parts here



Pretty by spikeshunny

Chapter 15: Drag Out the Heartache

“Is she going to be okay?” Fred asked as Angel came back from the front of the club. The dancing throng hadn't even blinked as a pair of paramedics had hurried through into the back alley, and Fred would've bet they probably hadn't even noticed the girl being carried out. Only if their moving had been interrupted had people looked up at all.

It made Fred sad for not just the injured girl, but for humanity in general. Something I'm not technically a part of anymore, she realized, and wasn't that an irony? Here she was, now a part of the 'scourge' of the world, and she was thinking what horrible beasts humans could be.

It didn't make sense. And yet, in some horrible way, it did.

“She'll be okay,” Angel told her, turning a glare in Buffy's direction. Buffy just raised her eyebrows and didn't seem to care in the slightest. “Her pulse was getting stronger when they pulled away, and they didn't use their sirens, so I'm guessing she'll be just fine.”

“And what a good thing that is,” a voice said from her right, and Lorne stepped around, beaming at everyone. “I mean, we got two girls patched up in one night! I'd call that a victory.”

“What are you still doing here?” Angel asked Buffy, ignoring Lorne completely. “Shouldn't you have gone back to New York and your new guy? The one you're so very much in love with?” He looked hurt even when he said it, and Fred felt her heart go out to him. Cordelia was gone, and Buffy had moved on, leaving Angel with no one really.

“I'm here to help Fred and Spike,” she said simply. “I was just waiting for your head to get pulled out of your ass. Is it all the way out, or do you still need a tug?”

Fred heard a snicker to her right, and quickly pursed her lips to keep her own from escaping. As much as she adored Angel, Buffy was right, and Fred was really hoping Angel didn't need a further tug. She was a little tired of it all. Tired of waiting, tired of her heart flip-flopping back and forth, and it would be nice to know she didn't have to do that anymore.

“Think I managed my own tug just fine,” she heard to her left, and Fred whipped her head around to see Gunn stepping down the stairs, giving her an apologetic smile. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“Better late than never,” she managed, letting her smile broaden. A hand gently wrapped around her hip, and her smile got even stronger. Everything was finally going right.

Wesley stepped down after Gunn, glancing at her once before turning away, but not fast enough to hide the look on his face from her. A look of anger and disgust. Fred felt her smile begin to fall, and the hand on her hip tightened just so slightly. “Wesley?” she called out tentatively. “I, um...well, how are you? I haven't really, you know, talked to you in awhile, and...”

“I'm just fine,” he said shortly, and even Angel turned in confusion at his tone. “Just...just perfectly fine.” Wesley glanced around almost defensively, his eyes finally resting on her hip, where Spike's hand was steadily growing tighter. He flinched, then turned sharply and headed for the door.

“Wesley,” she started helplessly, stepping forward and reaching out for him. He jerked away from her, waving her away before quickening his step. He hit the door only a few steps later, stepping out into the rain.

Fred could only stand and stare at the door as it slowly shut. “Well, that wasn't awkward,” Lorne attempted feebly.

It was all wrong. She'd spoken too soon about it all being okay again, thought too fast, and nothing was right. The look of disgust on his face...her heart flip-flopped once again, and she'd really hoped that it would stop that, because she couldn't take the sudden short stops her heart kept having to deal with. Up and down, back and forth...she felt like a stupid bouncy ball.

“Bouncy ball?” Spike asked, and she could hear the frown in his voice. She wasn't sure if she'd meant to speak her thoughts aloud or not.

“You throw it at the ground, and no matter how hard you hit it, it'll still come back for more, never resting, always there, and you can pull rubber in all sorts of directions, bend it and rip it and use it for everything,” she babbled, knowing her words didn't make any sense but she was tired of making sense when her world didn't. “Bouncy ball,” she finished, before she had to cover her mouth to catch the sob that came out.

“Hokay, we'll be leaving now,” Buffy said, and she felt the Slayer take her by the shoulders. “Spike, you can finish being the diplomat; Fred and I'll be snagging a cab back.” Then she felt two gentle but firm hands guide her towards the door. She caught sight of Spike gazing after her with pain and worry in his eyes, and then they were outside in the rain.

Wesley's rejection shouldn't have hurt so much. She was with Spike now, she had Angel back, and she'd had so many ups that it should've well countered the one down.

But Wesley had been her friend, her confidant, her secret crush for so long, the person she admired, the one who stood by her through all sorts of horrible things, and his obvious loathing of her cut through her even more than Angel's had.

Because Angel's motives she had at least understood. Wesley's she didn't at all. Even if she wanted to label it as jealousy, she couldn't: he'd started being rude to her before he'd seen Spike's hand on her.

She blinked, then blinked again as tears welled, blinked a third time to clear them, and the fourth time was to look around and realize she was in a cab. “It's okay,” Buffy said softly from her right. “You're allowed to hurt. Trust me: I've been there.”

Fred just blinked again and felt herself fall into the seat. “Last year, when the end battle was coming, I was told to leave my own house and not come back,” Buffy continued quietly. Fred did glance at her then, and Buffy gave her a sad smile. “My own sister actually told me to leave, and the worst part was that no one argued.”

“Did you leave?” Fred asked, her voice sounding scratchy.

Buffy nodded. “What else was I supposed to do? I found a house about a mile down that was abandoned and stayed there, curled up on myself.”

Fred knew what that felt like. The feeling of being shoved away, and closing yourself off from everything else. She'd done it in Pylea. She didn't want to do it now, but everything was just so wrong... “What did you do then?”

“I didn't do anything,” Buffy said, and the cab slowed to a stop outside their building. The blonde opened the door, before reaching back for Fred. “Spike did,” she said simply.

The two headed upstairs, and it took Fred awhile to find the key to the apartment. Buffy didn't seem to mind, though, and Fred was glad she had the company of a friend. The obviousness of that statement made Fred pause in her search for the key. She's my friend, she thought. Buffy's MY friend. Not just Spike's; she's mine now, too.

The thought should've cheered her. Instead, she burst into sobs, dropping her purse to cover her face with her hands. Slender arms wrapped around her, and Fred let Buffy hug her, helpless to do anything but cry.

She could hear feet pounding up the stairs, passing the second floor and hurrying up to the third floor. Even through her harsh sobs she could hear the door slamming open, and footsteps quickly making their way towards her. Buffy's arms slipped away just as Spike's engulfed her, pulling her against him as she cried. She turned and buried her face in his chest, her hands moving to clutch at him, to feel that he was there and that he wasn't leaving her.

She could hear keys jangling behind her, and then the door to their apartment opened slowly. Spike's arm slid down underneath her knees, lifting her and cradling her against his chest. Her sobs began to taper off, slowly fading to sniffles as he stepped through the door with her.

“I'll stop by tomorrow,” Buffy promised, giving her a smile and a nod. “Just rest up, okay? No worries about hair or how you look or anything. You're tired; give yourself a break.”

Fred wanted to reply, but she was tired, tired beyond belief, and even nodding would've taken strength she didn't have. The Slayer gave a small wave as she left, closing the door behind her.

Without a word Spike slowly headed down the hallway, the only sound breaking the silence being Fred's occasional sniffle. He passed the room where she'd been sleeping, and headed straight for the main bedroom at the end of the hall. He placed her tenderly on the center of the bed, reaching over to pull her heels from her feet. The shoes were tossed in the corner, and then he was taking the space beside her, pulling her close.

They hadn't talked about this; it had just been a silent agreement between them that they'd share the apartment but not the same bedroom. She'd simply chosen the other room to avoid such a discussion that would only be awkward, and Spike had taken her choice as if that's what they'd decided from the start, leaving things between them comfortable.

But right now, she couldn't think of sleeping in the bed by herself, staring at the wall for hours and curling up in her blankets. Tonight she needed Spike, needed his arms around her, needed something to cling to that was solid proof that she wasn't alone, that she wasn't despised, that someone cared.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, hoping he didn't mind if his shirt wound up soaked before morning came. When the first drops hit his shirt and he didn't move except to run his hand up and down her back, she didn't think he would.

I am really terribly sorry if it sucks. Astra was not kind in her surgical run-through of it.

~Nebula

Comments

[ex-dark-ami.livejournal.com]

Poor Fred, Wes really hurt her.

Felt a little bad for Angel, Buffy has obviously moved on and Spike has also moved on from Buffy. And no Cordy for Angel, it must hurt.

Loved the end with Spike just holding Fred, so sweet.

Great chapter!

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Wes really did land a blow on Fred, and hopefully that'll help me point this story in the direction it needs to go in.

I figured with all the grring at Angel, I'd muster up some sympathy for the poor guy. ~_^ And I'm glad the ending was okay; I didn't want to end it there, but Astra and I need to have a talk concerning the cutting up of my fic...

Thank you so much!

~Nebula