Her Saving Grace, 2/?, Spred, R, Prompt #17

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Title: Her Saving Grace
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Fred, mentions slight Fred/Wesley
Spoilers: Angel S5
Chapter: Two of ?
Prompt: #17 - Father's Day
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.

Concrit is loved and adored; please let me know what you see and what you like/think is off. It's all loved, and to those who have given me concrit, I love you from the depths of my muse's heart. (Though it seems like she doesn't have one some days...)

Word count: 3107

Pretty under the cut:





Pretty by spikeshunny; thank you so much sweetie!



< --- >

Cold. Cold and weighed down. Felt as if there were lead weights attached to every nerve, every cell, every tiny bit of skin, pulling down into the ground, refusing to release.

Eyes open, but everything's too sharp. Close again to avoid the pain. After a moment, dares to try again, winces and cringes as everything zooms into too sharp a focus, but it doesn't change. It's ever constant, every the same, and gradually the pain begins to lessen.

A new pain begins though, tearing the focus from the sharpening vision to the gnawing hunger within. It contracts the stomach, twisting and turning and begging for food, but it doesn't make a sound. It's just there, and unlike the vision, it's not fading. It's constant, and it's going to stay that way. Need food. Need something to dull the hunger that's now starting to tighten every nerve within. On edge, hands are shaking, and food, blood, is needed.

Suddenly everything pops back. The reality of who appears, along with several questions as the being of Winifred Burkle returns. Why isn't my stomach gurgling? Would my glasses help my vision? And more importantly...

Pushing up is slow and painful, despite the weights having been released. Now everything's too light; gravity doesn't seem to be applying anymore. She wonders how she'll walk.

More importantly, however...

“Where am I?”

It took awhile for Fred to come back, and when she finally did, she wished she hadn't.

She didn't ask the what am I question. She already knew, and it was a sinking feeling in the pit of her already sore and hurting stomach. Everything felt wrong and distant, and she wanted food and shelter and a way to stop the itch that had suddenly formed on the back of her neck.

Sunlight peeked through into the alley, and she hissed, pulling herself back up against the building. That had been the itch, then. It was like a searing pain now on the back of her neck, and it was driving her crazy. She desperately reached back to try and soothe the burn that she could feel inside, but her fingers wouldn't reach inside her skin.

She remembered having been burned before. She'd gotten up early one Father's Day, to prepare a breakfast for her dad. He'd always made eggs and toast for her, and she'd wanted to return the favor. Wouldn't he be surprised when his little girl of only eight came into the bedroom with a breakfast worthy of a king?

She'd wound up with the eggs going down the front of the stove, and when she'd reached in for the only not ruined portion of breakfast, the toast, her fingers had brushed against the still hot wires inside. She'd felt that burn for weeks afterwards, every time she'd picked up a pencil or gripped the handles of her bike. She hadn't been able to reach inside to ease that burn, either.

She watched the sunlight warily, before glancing at the opening. Outside, she could hear cars rushing past, could hear their engines putting away at the nearby light, could hear the radios that were going in every single car out there. It frightened her, and she clamped her hands over her ears, trying to get it to stop. She could still hear too much, too everything, and she wondered how Angel coped.

Angel. Where was Angel? She glanced behind her at the dirty wall of the club, and the door that was only two feet from her. She could make it. She could make it inside and back to Angel. Her knight in shining armor; he could help her. He was a vampire, and now...well, now she was, too. There was no going back; only forward. He'd be her forward.

Gingerly she pushed herself up, feeling pins and needles in her fingers, arms, and legs as she moved. She briefly wondered how that was possible, considering there was no blood flow in her veins anymore. It didn't matter; it was a dull pain, like the hunger within her, and she hated it. She wanted it to go away.

She'd barely gotten to her feet when a car rushed past the entrance to the alley, honking at someone. The sound rocked through her ears and into the very bones of her body, much like the bass last night had done. This time, though, it hurt a lot more, and she stumbled and leaned against the wall of concrete and grime, whimpering softly. How did Angel put up with this?

The sun was starting to edge around the corner of the building. In about ten minutes or so, the entire alley was going to be engulfed in its morning rays, and she needed to be out of there before it happened. She was lucky that the club was tucked behind taller buildings, and that it was facing in a direction so the sun hadn't caught her when it had first peered above the horizon.

She moved against the wall, wincing as the tender pads of her fingers brushed against the rough concrete of the wall. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered her, but with her nerves on fire like they were now...it was unbearable. Her fingers felt as if they were running across sandpaper and needles and rusty nails and other horrible things.

Finally she reached the door. The sun was closer now, and she refused to think that it had taken her ten minutes to cross two feet to her exit. Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal knob, and she whimpered, this time in surprised joy as her pained digits finally garnered a small bit of relief. She was almost there.

The sun began peeking around the building as she tried the knob. She shouldn't have been surprised that it was locked. She began tugging on it, pleading with it, feeling the itch building even stronger underneath the skin on her neck, the hunger pains clawing within her to not be ignored any longer...

Her sound of frustration came out as a very distinguishable growl, and she grabbed the knob with both hands, turned it sharply to the right, hearing the wood and metal within the door snap and twist. She pulled the knob back viciously, and the door opened with a loud crack that made her flinch. She quickly hurried inside, grabbing the broken door at the last minute and pulling it back with her. It didn't close properly, but it closed enough, and she would've taken several harsh breaths if she'd needed to. When she got over the shock of not having to, she turned to peer into the darkness of the club.

Her vision blurred for a second, before she began picking out shapes in the club. She could just make out tables and chairs beyond the hallway she stood in, and the dance floor that lay beyond that. It was still too dark, though, and she strained to see what was beyond that; she didn't want to trip over drunken bodies or barstools as she tried to pick her way through.

Suddenly she felt as if there were something beneath her skin, right around her eyes. She immediately reached up to try and grab it, and left her hands there in stunned horror as her very bones moved. They continued to shift, and she felt her mouth tingle briefly, before her teeth pressed up against her lips. Cautiously she moved her tongue across her teeth, gasping when it encountered something sharp. It cut into her tongue, and she tasted coppery blood, her blood. She found herself swallowing it down, and the hunger pains surged forward, begging for more.

She smacked her lips, and found that her teeth no longer felt pressed against her lips. Good; it had been uncomfortable.

She could also see now, see clearly as if she were using night vision goggles. It bothered her, but it was something she was going to have to get used to. There was no going back from this, no cure to become human again. She was this for eternity, and she shivered, feeling tears come to her eyes. She felt so alone.

Angel obviously wasn't at the club anymore; that had been last night. He'd more than likely be back at Wolfram and Hart right now. The thought of getting there was too scary for her to think about right now. She needed something to eat. Not someone. She refused to do that.

She frowned, thinking it over for a moment. Shouldn't she be all into the haphazard killing spree? Shouldn't she be wanting to rip out people's throats? She didn't, though. And she couldn't have a soul, could she?

She didn't know what was going on. Angel could help her. Wesley would research, Gunn would make calls to help her, and Lorne would hold her as she shook. And then Angel would bring in blood and tell her it was going to be okay, and she'd be surrounded by the people she loved and cared for the most. She'd be all right.

She just had to get to them.

There had been no sewer access out of the club, and the sun had remained unrelenting all day. At around three in the afternoon, the patron of the club had come in and opened it up to the employees to prepare for their opening at six, and she'd had to hide in the corner. The hunger pains had gotten worse, and she'd spent the long hours crouched in her darkened corner with her arms wrapped around her midsection, rocking back and forth with tears streaming down her face.

Worse yet, she'd felt the heartbeats of everyone in the club. They'd been a constant pulsing in her ears, begging her to follow the rhythm to the nearest blood source, and it had been a fight to not give in.

The club had begun to fill by the time she was able to leave. She'd been fairly certain that her vampire face had shifted back to her normal guise, but she'd kept her face down the entire way out anyways. When she'd made it outside to the pavement, the constant blaring of horns had almost made her run back inside, but the music had started pulsing, leaving her trapped on the sidewalk with more than an urge to drop to her knees and cry.

She felt as if she were in a nightmare, and she couldn't get out.

Walking hadn't been too much of a problem, but about a block or two from Wolfram and Hart, she'd felt the weights begin to hang on her nerves again, coaxing her to rest against one of the buildings for a few hours, to get some sleep.

Sleep, and everything will be fine in the morning. Yeah, right.

She'd pushed herself on, stepping inside the quiet building with a sigh of relief. Most of the clients and employees were gone for the day, and the lobby was deserted, save for a lone guard. He simply raised his eyebrows as her as she stepped into the elevator, but he knew her, saw her walk in every day.

She reached Angel's floor, and her heart soared as she saw everyone in Angel's office. They looked pensive and worried, and her boys were all right there, so close now...

She stepped across the carpet, hating her heels more than ever. Her feet were so sore, but safety was close now. She could bear it for just a little longer.

She grasped the cold metal handle of his door, wincing at the sharp edges and the too cold feeling that bit into her nerves. Slowly she pushed it open, before stepping inside.

All eyes were on her. She could only imagine how she must look; she'd tried gazing into her reflection in one of the bathrooms of the club, and had almost shrieked at the surprise of herself not being there. She'd only been able to look down at her clothes and try to un-wrinkle them as best as she could.

“Hi guys,” she said, her voice hoarse and almost like a croak. “Um...”

“We've been worried sick!” Lorne said, stepping towards her with his arms opened. He stopped with a jerk halfway there, his eyes widening.

Fred frowned. “Lorne?”

“Fred, what happened?” Angel said, his voice harsh. She winced at the sound, gazing into their horrified faces. Angel's face was dark and looming, and he didn't seem to care about her flinching. “Well?”

“I...I got lead out through the back door of the club,” she explained. “There was a vampire, and...”

“Why didn't you call for help?” Angel demanded, and Fred stared at him, shocked. He sounded almost as if he were blaming...her? No. That couldn't be right.

“I-I did!” she said, sounding hysterical even to her own ears. “I...I screamed, but he covered my mouth, and I tried fighting him off. I j-just feel so lost, and I don't know what to do. Everything's so sharp and it hurts and I'm so hungry and...”

The minute the words left her mouth, everyone stepped back. She stared at them, her jaw dropping in hurt and surprise. “I'm not going to eat you!” she said, feeling tears welling. Where was her support? Where were her steadfast friends? “I just...I just wanted a cup of blood maybe...and...”

“Why should we believe you?” Angel said, putting himself in front of everyone. “You're not Fred anymore, not really. You don't have a soul. You're a vampire, a pure demon, and I won't let you take out any of my friends.”

Fred stared at him, eyes wide. “I am Fred still; I haven't changed! I'm...” All her hopes of being accepted, of being understood, of being loved fell away. Angel didn't want her here. Her knight in shining armor no longer fought for her. He'd decided that she was the enemy, and now she would feel the wrath he used to bestow upon those who hurt the people he cared about. The knowledge that she wasn't one of his anymore hurt.

Wesley stepped around Angel, a cross in his hands. She could feel something emanating from the item, and it sent a burning pinch to all of her nerves. She jumped back and hissed from reflex, feeling her face shift and change as she did so. Lorne gave a soft gasp, and Gunn cursed under his breath. It didn't matter; she still heard him.

“You have changed,” Wesley said, his eyes glaring at her. “Leave, now. We will not let you ruin the memory of our Fred with your demon.”

She stumbled back, away from the cross, away from the condemnation burning brightly in their eyes. Tears burned in hers, and she stepped out of the room quickly, running as fast as she could for the stairs. Fear lurched and grabbed her heart as she wondered if they would follow her. Would they stake her? Would they really...?

She choked down a sob and hurried down the many stairs to the main floor, bursting out of the stairwell like the hounds of hell were on her very tail. Her heels made tiny noises as she move across the shiny lobby floor, but she didn't care until she'd made it outside, and all pulsing of heartbeats had long since faded out. She made it to the street across from the building, only to finally care about her heels as she tripped and fell. Her eyes caught on the blood that welled from her hand as it slid and ripped from the rough concrete, and for a moment, it was all she could do. What else was there?

She was abandoned, condemned, alone. She had nowhere to go.

Thoughts of curling up in a corner somewhere to hide and wait for the sun crossed her mind, and she pushed them away. There had to be something she could do, somewhere she could go, someone that would understand.

Blue eyes rang through her memory, and she remembered the easy and gentle way he'd lifted her as she'd performed her move, remembered his concern for her enough to come looking for her, remembered his kindness for the one left by herself.

Spike.

Wearily she pushed herself up, kicking off her heels before heading down the road. The concrete felt like a bed of nails to her bare feet, but she bit her lip and kept going. When she drew blood, she realized she was still in her vampire face, but she didn't care. Nothing really mattered anymore.

She remembered the way to his apartment from when she'd brought him blood and someone to talk with while his hands had healed from the Slayer attack. He wasn't all that far from Wolfram and Hart, but so far, his apartment hadn't been put on the law firm's list of addresses. Spike probably liked it that way; he didn't want random people dropping in on him.

Fred wasn't a random person to him, though. She wasn't even really a person anymore, but Spike wouldn't turn her away. She was sure of that much.

Of course, she'd thought that she wouldn't have been turned away by Angel and Wesley, but...

The walk to his building was spent in a daze filled with pain and the terrible memory of her return to her friends. She almost fell down the stairs leading into the lower levels where his apartment was, but managed to right herself before she went down. Each step hurt more than the previous one, and when she finally made it to Spike's door, they were aching and pulsing with pain. Tears continuously slid down her face, and she could feel them meeting with dirt and grime that had been rubbed into her cheeks.

She gave two short taps, hoping that he was home, hoping that she wouldn't be turned away. She didn't want to see his face contort into disgust and anger at her and at what she'd become. She didn't want to be there for that. Maybe she should just leave now.

The door opened, but the sound was far off in the distance. Spike's inquiring face turned into one of stunned horror, and his lips moved, trembling as they said her name. She couldn't hear it, though. She couldn't really hear anything beyond the dull roar. It reminded her of the previous night.

And just like the previous night, her eyes closed, and she felt herself falling to the ground, falling into blackness.

The last thing she felt this time, however, was someone catching her.

....Little better ending? Yay, nay?

~Nebula

Comments

[lilithbint.livejournal.com]

Oh poor Fred,
so confused and sad,
but someone caught her this time *sigh*