Gods And Monsters

Chapter Seventy-eight:

Bent over her, Spike couldn't find the strength to compose himself. It felt as though a hole had been punched through his breast. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. He was choking on grief, suffocated by the weight of words unspoken, feelings never expressed. He had been a coward, a bloody imbecile.

His hands shook as tears streaked down his cheeks. Spike sobbed until his chest ached and his eyes burned and his shoulders heaved with each wrenching gasp for air.

At long last, he raised his head. The sight of her motionless body ignited a fury within him far stronger than anything he had ever experienced. Overcome with blind rage, he stood and grabbed the object nearest to him — a large glass bottle — and hurled it across the room. Upon impact with a wall, it shattered into a million tiny shards.

He succumbed to the desire within him to wreak destruction, and after everything in the room had personally suffered from his wrath, he began to pound the wall. Spike didn't even notice when the skin on his knuckles tore open and leaked blood.

Buffy tended to Xander, while Principal Wood regarded Spike with disgust. 

Spike's violent outburst was brought to an end only when his anger-fuelled endurance had been drained. Leaning his forehead against the wall and breathing heavily, he shoved his clenched fists into the pockets of his coat, screwing his eyes tightly shut. His fingers brushed cold glass, and his eyes snapped wide open.

Gripping the tiny object, he whipped it out of his pocket to reveal that it was none other than the vial of Eitr Hel accidentally left in his possession a long time ago.

Rushing to her side, he practically threw himself onto the packed dirt floor. Gently prying open her pale pink lips and uncorking the vial, Spike poured its contents into her mouth. He tossed the little bottle aside, closed her mouth, and watched her closely, waiting for any sign of life.

There was a long stretch of silence.

Then, beneath the torn fabric of her dark grey T-shirt, her wound miraculously began to close. The skin knit itself back together, healing under the influence of an ancient magic until no trace of injury remained— save for the bloodstain on her shirt. All of a sudden, she inhaled sharply, and her eyes flew open. She sputtered, gasping and coughing violently.

He splayed his hand on the small of her back, assisting her into an upright position. "It's alright. I've got you."

Her coughing soon subsided. She leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes as she her respiration and heart rate gradually slowed.

A relieved smile spreading across his lips, he clutched her to him with one arm around her back. "I thought I lost you for a moment there."

She sighed, smirking in spite of the circumstances. "I think you'll find I'm not that easy to get rid of."

Half an hour later, they were trudging up the front porch steps of the Summers' residence. Their entrance was greeted by Anya, Willow, Dawn, Giles, and Andrew. Buffy led Xander into the house, his arm draped across her shoulders. His shirt was wrapped tightly around his waist, a makeshift bandage.

Spike and Hel trailed inside after them, his arm encircling her waist. Although alive, she was still very weak, so his support was much appreciated.