Author: Meltha PM
Takes place immediately following the events of Tough Love. Spike is hurt, and someone helps him. 1of 1Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama - Spike & Joyce S. - Words: 802 - Reviews: 35 - Favs: 16 - Follows: 1 - Published: 11-20-01 - Status: Complete - id: 462608
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Rating: PG, a bashed up Spike
Feedback: That would be very nice of you, thank you.
Spoilers: Up to season 5's "Intervention"
Distribution: Here. If you are interested (which would stun me), please ask.
Summary: Spike was in such bad shape after Glory's session of playing with him that I wanted someone to baby him a little. It's rather sniffly.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose charcters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Dedication: For dear little Ellie.
Spike was still asleep. Good. The last thing she wanted to do was wake him. There would be far too many questions, and besides, he desperately needed the rest. With tear filled eyes she took at the array of wounds that Glory had left on him, marring practically every square inch of exposed flesh. She winced in sympathy.
With practiced tenderness, she eased the still sleeping vampire out of his torn black T-shirt. How could anyone have been done this to him? Burn marks, stab wounds, bruises, broken bones… the list went on and on. She had never been able to understand cruelty in any form, but this? This was almost unthinkable. With a tremendously light touch, she began to tentatively bathe his injuries, cleaning out the grime that had become imbedded in them. He had been far too weak to tend to himself earlier, and she didn't want him to risk an infection. Somehow, she managed to cleanse his wounds without him ever waking.
Next, she turned her attention to the bruises that had swollen his eyes almost completely shut. A cool compress rested against his brow, a vain attempt to bring down the hideous swelling, but still providing some measure of comfort. A small smile appeared on her face when she realized he would probably have far preferred she used a raw steak instead: a snackable bandage.
Still smiling slightly, she moved on to the puncture wound in his abdomen. Sighing, she knew there wasn't all that much she could do for that particular problem, but at least the vampire's fast rate of healing would end that suffering quickly. She put a clean bandage on it, fastening it in place firmly yet softly.
The burns and scalds that appeared on his face and chest were an angry red. Crushing the leaves of an aloe plant, she carefully spread the soothing extract on the marks made by Glory's torture, paying extra attention to what appeared to be a cigar burn on his chest. Repulsed once again at the animal-like behavior that had caused the blemish, a hiss of anger passed her lips.
Finally, she looked at the marks that the glass had left on his lip and cheek. Examining the skin carefully, she was happy to note that there were no shards still imbedded in his face. Given time, he would heal. Tears came to her eyes once again as she thought of how much he had suffered and how bravely he had faced it, even the specter of impending death, with a stubborn refusal to give Glory the smallest piece of information about the key. She knew that he had been a very, very bad boy in his day, and in many ways still was. Frowning slightly, she remembered the robot. Now that had not been good at all. However, Rome wasn't built in a day, and he'd come a very long way down a none-too-easy path.
She had done all she could to ease his pain. Reversing her actions of earlier, she pulled a clean shirt over his head and then flipped his pillow over, exposing a fresh, cool side to his cheek. She quickly checked the refrigerator and was pleased to see he had an ample supply of blood for the next several days. Although she wished that she could have done more for him, she knew it was time to leave. She pressed one gentle hand against his forehead, soothing him like a child with a fever. His eyelids fluttered open.
"Mum?" he murmured, taken back for a moment to the days of his childhood in London when his mother had stayed beside him through a bout of the flu. "That you?"
"Thank you for protecting my babies," she whispered quietly in his ear before dissolving into thin air.
"What the… I'm going nuttier than Dru," Spike groaned to himself. "For just one second there, I could have sworn I saw…"
His words died away as he saw the clean shirt he was wearing and felt the bandages that now dressed his wounds.