Her Saving Grace, 18/25?, Spike/Fred, R

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Finally, another chapter, right?

Title: Her Saving Grace
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Fred, mentions slight Fred/Wesley
Spoilers: Angel S5
Chapter: Eighteen of ?
Prompt: #40: Revenge is bliss 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: 2294

Previous parts here



Pretty by me; please don't take.

Chapter 18: Need a Strong Drink For Today

“You don't remember.”

“No.”

“Anything whatsoever?”

“No, Angel.”

“Fred, I just...”

“Just...just piss the hell off, okay?” she snapped, not really sure where the words were coming from, but they were coming out anyways. Probably her demon; it was in a lot more control right now than the rest of her was, and she was grateful. She didn't want to be thinky-Fred. Her thinking just led to more pain.

No, right now she needed to be action-demon-Fred who didn't live in the past, who was firmly fixed in the present, and didn't give a flying rat's ass about how to think out the problems; it wanted a clear-cut way to make them go away. Like by destroying something.

Or someone.

Angel seemed to realize that, and simply shook his head as he stepped back to his desk. “She doesn't remember what the vamp looked like, Peaches, so leave her the hell alone,” Spike said, glaring at the older vampire. “If she knew, she wouldn't tell you. She'd tell me, and then I might feel like sharin' with you, once I've had my turn with the bloody rat.”

Angel turned around to glare at Spike. “I'm just as concerned about finding the asshole as you are, okay? If I leave it to you, though, he'll be dust in a few short minutes, and we need to find out who he's working for.”

“If you were as concerned back then, when Fred came to you the first time for help, you probably would've found him. He might be halfway to the moon by now, and whose fault is that?”

“Don't you even...”

Fred tuned out the noises, turning her gaze from the fighting men to the window that looked out into the lobby. Standing in the center of the room was Buffy on her cell phone, biting her lip and talking with a frown on her face to whomever was on the other side. She'd been on the phone for the past half-hour, which meant the call had probably gone from business to personal. She might even be talking to the guy she'd found who made her so happy.

Now if Fred could get her own guy to talk to her instead of bickering with Angel...

“...got no bloody clue, as usual. Why am I even surprised?”

“You don't understand the resources I've got now at my command. If we...”

“You don't even know what he LOOKS like! You know how many vamps there are in this city?”

“What if we got the magic users up here? They'd do a quick memory scan of Fred's thoughts, find him, and we'd have an image and a way to track him.”

NO!

“No!” she said, standing up quickly. “I don't trust them any further than I can throw them, which I just realized is a lot further than I normally would've been able to throw them, but that doesn't change how much I trust them. I don't want them poking around in my mind.” The idea really unsettled her, but it was more than just the distrust of the magic users.

There was already something wrong with her memories. She was missing something, she could feel it. Her demon had a better grasp of why than she did, but she couldn't put it to words. The demon's emotions were much more complex than human emotions, which she didn't think possible.

All of its misgivings, though, were pointing towards Angel, and Fred couldn't bear the thought of her friend she'd just gotten back responsible for...whatever was wrong with her memories.

She'd deal with that later. Right now, there were bigger baddies to fry, and much bigger puzzles to figure out. Provided her brain ever decided to click back in and help her solve them.

“I think it would just be best if I headed back home with Spike. I'll keep going over what happened, and we'll wait for Buffy's troops to back us up. Then we can go in and take care of this. Okay?” There. That sounded logical and reasonable. That was about as good as she was going to get today.

A knock on the door made them all turn to Harmony, who was peeking her head in. “Um, boss? Charles just wanted me to tell you that Wesley's doing better. Oh, and I think they raided your liquor cabinet,” she added, her smile ever perky.

“I could do with a stiff drink myself,” Spike muttered, and her demon agreed. It took her a few moments to figure out why: the harsh liquid it wanted would burn, would give her something strong and hard to focus on, would ground her and keep her.

She'd never been much of an alcohol person, but maybe one drink would be nice. She could do with some grounding, something stable and expected right now.

“I don't like the idea,” Angel told her, and she gave him a look to show him how much she cared at that point. “Call me if you get anything.”

She nodded, already heading for the door. She could feel Spike slightly behind her and to her right, and didn't even have to ask him to open one of the doors. She got the left door, he got the right, and their unity and togetherness was something she would've marveled at if she weren't too busy trying to center herself.

All the events of the past few days, even the past twenty-four hours, had left her shaken inside, left her nervous and furious and frustrated with being manipulated so easily. She was going to find the ones behind this, and she was going to make them pay. They'd taken everything from her. Everything.

What they hadn't counted on was her getting it all back, plus more than she'd had before.

Buffy was hanging up just as they passed her. “I've got people on the way,” she called behind her shoulder at Angel, before quickly catching up with them. “Think we can share a taxi, and you can drop me at my hotel? I need to crash for a little bit before they all show up.”

“I think we can fit the three of us in a single vehicle, pet,” Spike said. They stepped into the elevator, Spike's hand automatically coming up to rest on Fred's shoulder. It was solid, and stable, and something she needed to really focus on right then and there. That was good. Spike was good.

This entire situation wasn't.

The ride to Buffy's hotel was made in comfortable silence, as was the trip back to the apartment. Spike gave the driver a generous tip, ensuring that whatever qualms the man had had about carrying three zombie-like passengers would disappear with the cash. Fred simply stood on the sidewalk, unable to do anything besides that. Focusing in on Spike's moving body was even too much for her brain right now. She felt like she'd just studied and finished her finals, and had written several dissertations. This day needed to end.

This entire thing needed to end.

“Inside, luv,” she heard him whisper in her ear, and she nodded, feeling his hand on her back to guide her inside the building and to the stairs. Each one felt like a league in the sea, and that she had on metal boots that weighed her down.

It was funny that despite her mind being so tired, she was doing all sorts of thinking. Well, she wasn't sure she could call it thinking. More like random musing. Or just her brain being, well, her brain.

Either way, activity was happening, neurons and electricity were shooting across her cerebral hemispheres, and she hadn't thought it could do that at all anymore, considering how very tired she was.

She blinked, and they were suddenly on their floor, and Spike was digging for his key. Another blink, and the door was opening, pushed back by his hand. She wearily trudged inside, wanting nothing more than to nap. Maybe she could convince Spike to curl up with her.

Another blink, and suddenly her demon and her mind were fully awake as a familiar face stepped out from behind the door. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. All he had to do was smile and slide the stake forward.

Her demon moved faster than her mind could, and she went up on her toes as far as she could, causing the stake to hit the area below her heart. The pain was excruciating, and she gasped, feeling tears welling. She could feel her demon coming to the forefront, protecting her as she lingered on the waves of pain so intense she thought she was going to black out.

Two seconds after he staked her, her hand came out, curling into a fist that hit his head hard enough to hear the crack. He went down, and she lurched away from the doorway, ready to tear him to pieces for what he'd done to her that night, and the pain that had come from it to her and those whom she loved. He was going to feel pain beyond what she had experienced; she owed him that much. Revenge would be beyond sweet: it would be bliss.

Her body gave out two steps from him, and she crumpled to the floor, feeling the stake twisting in her chest, poking and ripping. She tried to call out to Spike, but all that came out was a whimper, and a weak one at that. She curled up on herself, and all she could hear was the rushing roar of blood in her ears.

Like she'd heard the night he'd killed her.

“Fred, luv, look at me.”

Hands pulled her gently, gently, up to where she could see. The vampire was out cold on the floor, and Spike was shaking. Shaking? No. Spike didn't shake. Was there an earthquake? She couldn't handle an earthquake.

“Fred, I need you here with me. Right now.”

He was shaking. She could see his hands trembling as they gripped her arms. Still gentle, though. He was so gentle with her, and she wondered why.

“Fred.”

There was a growl almost in his tone, and her eyes finally caught and held onto his, giving her something to focus on besides the pain she was falling into. “That's a girl,” he whispered, giving her a smile to focus on as well. That helped. That helped a lot.

Then she felt the stake stop moving, and a moment later, a moment too late, she realized why. He pulled it out in one swift move, and she tried to scream, but she couldn't hear it. She couldn't hear anything anymore, and Spike's face was fading at the edges into black.

I can't die. I wasn't staked through the heart. I'm not dust, she told herself. She wasn't sure she believed herself. She considered herself a usually credible source for information, but right now, she didn't believe herself.

Then her fading focus slid from his face to his arm, which was turning into a white blur of nothingness. There was movement at the arm, something she couldn't see or understand, and she just didn't want to see anything, she wanted to be unconscious if just to not feel this anymore, then...

Blood. It was sharp and crystal clear on his blurred arm, and she saw it coming closer, close enough that she could taste, and then her lips were latching onto the wound, pulling the blood from him into her.

This wasn't animal's blood or even human blood. This blood was potent, filled with spice and power and feeling and life, and she suddenly remembered having had this blood before. When she'd fallen into Spike's apartment all those days ago. She remembered faintly the nourishment of blood, but she thought that this perfect ambrosia was something she'd imagined.

No. It was very much him. This blood, this heavenly thing that was grounding her far better than anything else...this was Spike. This was perfection.

Her mind finally started working then, reminding her that this WAS Spike, and that Spike needed that blood as much as she did. She pulled away, and whimpered as the pain shot through her at the movement. She could focus, though. The pain was pain, but it was bearable pain. It wasn't the suck you down into an eternal abyss of nothingness pain.

She glanced up into Spike's unusually pale face, but he looked stable as well, if just a little weak. She began to say something, anything, but she couldn't find any words that would describe how she felt. Tense, yes. Frightened, yes. Worried, very much yes. But those were fading out now, like she'd been doing herself a few moments before, and she was firmly back with pain, blood, and him, and it was that last one that made it worth being here.

She let herself lean forward into his arms, pulling herself in closer and wrapping her fingers around his shirt. His hands still trembled slightly as they held her, but not as much as before.

Both of their eyes were locked on the unconscious vampire on the floor. She remembered the night she'd died, the night of terror and fear and her too-knowing knowledge that said she was going to die. The pain of awakening alone in the alley. The pain of being shut out by her friends.

“We don't have to hand him over to Angel just yet,” Spike's voice said softly. It filled the empty space of the apartment, and she could hear more to his message than he'd verbally expressed. She knew what he meant. She knew what her answer was.

“Good.”

~Nebula