Crazy

Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Elsa Frohman : Crazy

Summary: No predictions for the show here. Just a little "what if?" Angst alert!

AUTHOR: Elsa Frohman
EMAIL: elsa@frohman.net
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Buffy/Spike
SPOILERS: Through 'Selfless'
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Anya walked out, her shoulders slumped, her head low.

"Go," Buffy said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. "I'll check on the boys."

Xander followed his former lover. Anya had survived -- again -- if that's what you'd call it.

Buffy turned her attention to the dozen or so frat boys who were waking up from a disturbing shared nightmare in the other room. There were moans and little cries of distress as the young men returned to consciousness, checked their chests to find themselves whole, and looked around for an explanation for the terrifying dream they'd apparently all had. The blood that had been smeared on the walls was gone. The window that Willow smashed when she tossed the Crenslaw demon out was back and unbroken. None of it had actually happened. It was just a nightmare -- except, they all knew it wasn't.

Buffy stood in the center of the room and watched each boy in succession look down at his uninjured body and look to the others to see them doing the same.

"W-what happened?" one of them asked.

"Nothing happened," Buffy said with a sneer. "Which is a hell of a lot better than you deserve."

"I don't understand."

"Do you think I don't know what happened here? Count yourselves lucky. My solution to this little problem would have left the lot of you dead. Good riddance," she said, turning to leave.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who is completely disgusted to be in the same room with you."

The boy was recovering from his fright.

"Suit yourself, bitch."

Buffy stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"What did you just call me?"

"Who do you think you are, coming in here -- without an invitation I might add -- and dissing us?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don't believe you. You know what? I think I'm going to work some real vengeance now. I'm going to go find your victim and talk her into pressing charges."

"Victim?"

"Don't think I don't know what went on here," Buffy said, gathering steam as the rage boiled up inside her.

"What are you talking about?"

"One girl, a frat house, twelve guys. Doesn't take much imagination."

Buffy went to the boy and hauled him up by his shirt.

"Did she cry when you piled on her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie, you pathetic creep. I'm going to see you pay." She cocked back her fist to wipe the clueless smirk off his face.

"Buffy! No!"

Willow was standing in the doorway behind her, out of breath.

"I got here as quick as I could. I couldn't teleport like D'Hoffryn," Willow panted. "They're all back to alive, so I guess he was here, and everything worked out?"

"Everything except these jerks," Buffy said with a frown. "But I think I can sort them out."

Her fist went back again.

"Don't!"

"Why not? They seem to think they can get away with gang rape. I don't see why I can't get away with breaking a few noses."

"Gang rape? What gang rape?" Willow asked.

"What she said," the boy in Buffy's grasp chimed in.

"The girl who made the vengeance wish..."

"No, they didn't ... well, they did, but not physically. They're creeps, and scum and everything else bad and ... not good, Buffy, but you can't just beat them up. For one thing, there's too many of them, and for another, you don't have any authority to punish them."

Buffy looked at Willow, uncomprehending. The frat boy still dangled from her raised arm.

"Everybody wants to tell me what I can't do," Buffy said, her voice breaking.

"Beating someone up isn't always the answer," Willow said.

"No, it's not," the frat boy chimed in.

Buffy dropped him and he landed in a heap on the floor.

"It's my job. I'm always the one who has to decide," Buffy said, her lip trembling. "It has to be done. I can't just walk away."

"Buffy, it's over now. We can go home. You can get some rest. It's going to be OK."

"No, it's never OK. I kill and I kill and it's never OK," she said, her voice trembling. "There are always more of them. I can stake a thousand vampires and whack off the heads of a hundred demons and there will always be another one waiting for me."

The frat boy was scooting away across the floor, watching Buffy with obvious fear. The other boys were gradually moving away as well -- trying not to come to her attention. Somebody moved a little to fast and caught her eye.

"You! Stay where you are. I'm not finished with you yet!"

The boy froze.

"Buffy. We have to go now. There's nothing else for you to do here," Willow said reasonably. "Come on home. I'll fix you a great big bowl of Chunky Monkey ice cream and everything will be OK. Nothing can't be worked out over a bowl of Chunky Monkey."

Buffy wasn't ready to give up. She paced in a tight circle.

"It's his fault. He said it would be this way. It's all his fault."

"Whose fault?"

"He's pretending to be insane. But he's not. I can see through him. It's all an act. He's plotting. He's bidding his time. He's been planning this all along."

"Spike? Are you talking about Spike?"

"I should have dusted him years ago. He twists everything he touches!"

Willow frowned at Buffy.

"Buffy? Honey, lets go home now."

"It's my duty. I don't have any choice." She was becoming manic, moving her hands in jerky sweeps, then rubbing them on her jeans as if trying to clean them.

"Buffy, something's wrong. Let's go home and we can talk about it."

"You bet something's wrong. It's that bleached blonde vampire. He's wrong. All wrong."

The frat boys were gone now -- they knew when to beat a retreat. Willow was alone with Buffy in the empty frat house.

"Buffy, I think you shouldn't do anything right now. I think you need to go home and rest. Let's go." She reached out to touch Buffy's shoulder.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Buffy swung and knocked Willow down.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Willow stayed on the floor. She reached out and got her purse, which had fallen close by. Her cell phone was inside. Keeping her eyes on the agitated Slayer, she got the phone out and pushed the first speed dial number.

"Xander? Where are you?" she whispered, never looking away from Buffy.

"Well, come back. Something's wrong with Buffy."

Buffy paced over to the wall and put her fist through it. She seemed to have forgotten about Willow.

"I don't know. She's all... fists. I'm not sure she knows where she is. The sword? It's in the other room, I think. Yeah, I'll try to keep it away from her."

Buffy picked up a chair and tossed it through a window.

"I know. Me neither. Not without some heavy magic, that is. And I'd really like to avoid that. Not loving the idea of another fight with her. But maybe together we can talk her down or something. You're Mr. Yellow Crayon, after all."

Buffy was systematically reducing a table to firewood. Then, having destroyed the offending piece of furniture, she sorted through the debris until she found something that would work as a stake. After a few practice stabs, she took off with a purposeful stride.

"No! She's leaving. No, I can't stop her. What am I, Wonder Woman? I have a hunch she's heading for the high school. Yeah, the basement. I'll meet you there."

------------------

It was dark. He liked it that way. When it was dark he didn't have to see things. He could sit be quiet in the dark. Quiet was good. No voices when he was really quiet. They would forget about him. If he could just make himself smaller, maybe they wouldn't find him again.

Spike was concentrating on being tiny when he heard her approach. He knew it was Buffy. The sound of her footsteps was unmistakable. But which Buffy? No, he knew which Buffy. Nice Buffy never walked in. She was simply there when she was there. No, only Hard Buffy could be heard approaching. He steeled himself. There would be
pain.

The lights came on as she flipped the switch beside the door.

"Stand up!" she ordered.

He looked up at her from where he was crouched. Not small enough, he thought. She can see me.

"Stand up!"

"Going to crush me under your boot, pet?"

"Stop pretending. Let's end this!"

"Pretending?"

"Stand up!"

Spike paused to consider the wisdom of coming out from between the filing cabinets where he was crouched. This was something harder and angrier than Hard Buffy. He could feel her rage. Every muscle of her body was tense. She held the stake in full view. Her face was grim. Her eyes were ... vacant.

He stood up slowly, straightening out his cramped joints. How long had he been in that position? No telling -- too long. But this was the end. She was going to set him free. Yes, it was time to end it. He stepped forward into the open space between them. He welcomed this.

Buffy raised the stake. Spike stood still and looked directly into her eyes. She hesitated.

"What's the matter, pet? Time to do it. Go ahead."

"You've been asking for this for a long time."

"No argument. Do it."

She stepped toward him. The stake was in the air. She brought it down toward his chest with the full force of a Slayer's arm.

"BUFFY!"

For the second time that day, Xander tackled her. This time, she fought back.

Spike watched owlishly as Xander struggled with a tiny woman whose strength far outmatched his.

All Xander had going for him was his bulk. He tried to stay on top to rob her of leverage, but her hands were on his throat and he couldn't pry them away. He couldn't breathe, and as he struggled to break her grip, she rolled him over so she was straddling him as she squeezed the life from him.

Willow arrived and took in the struggling pair on the floor and the pale vampire watching from a step away, his head cocked to the side in puzzlement.

"Spike, help Xander. Get Buffy off him!" she cried.

Spike seemed to snap into focus. He looked at Willow then back to the tangle of Buffy and Xander on the floor. He reached over and wrapped an arm around Buffy's neck and hauled her up. She let go of Xander's neck to claw at Spike's arms. Her feet were off the floor and she kicked impotently as the vampire kept her neck tight in the
crook of his arm.

"I don't want to hurt you, baby. Doesn't mean I won't," he said in a strange, distant voice.

Buffy kept struggling, but gradually went limp. When she was hanging motionless from his arm, Spike gently lowered her to the floor.

Willow let out the breath she was holding.

"Thank you, Spike," she said.

"Yeah, thank you," Xander said, gasping and rubbing his bruised throat.

Spike knelt down beside the unconscious Slayer and took her hand. Willow joined him and took the other hand to check to check for a pulse.

"She'll be all right, Spike," Willow said gently. "Physically, at least."

"Not that I haven't been on the 'stake Spike' train myself, but what the hell was that all about?" Xander asked.

"I don't know," Willow replied. "She started sort of rambling about everything being Spike's fault. Next thing, she was off with stake in hand."

"Everything is my fault," Spike said.

"No, it isn't," Willow said. "Spike, it really isn't. She's out of her head. I don't know what set it off, but I don't think it was you."

Xander got up and looked down at Willow and Spike, each holding one of Buffy's hands.

"It wasn't Spike. It was Angel," he said.

"What?" Willow asked.

"Back at the house. She brought it up. You know she never talks about it. So that's what she was thinking about when she had to go fight Anya. Trying to kill another one of her friends. She snapped."

"Angel's not around, so she went after Spike. I guess that makes a sort of crazy sense."

"The question is: What do we do about it. Is she going to be back from Zanyland when she wakes up?" Xander said, running his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration.

"I think we've got to call Giles," Willow said with a little frown. "It's about ... oh, 4 a.m. there, he's going to love this."

"Meanwhile, what do we do about the Terminator?"

Willow stopped to consider.

"Spike, do you think you could help us?"

He regarded her with a slightly cocked head.

"We need you, Spike. You're the only one strong enough to control her if she wakes up and she's still crazy."

"She's stronger than I am," Spike said quietly.

"Yeah, but you'll have the advantage, because she's just waking up. I don't want to leave her alone. She might hurt herself. Somebody has to be with her to keep her safe," Willow said.

He nodded.

"You'll do it then?"

"Yeah."

"Spike, listen to me, this is important. You can't let her kill you," Xander said. "I heard what was going on in here before I knocked her down. You can't do that, because if you're dust, you can't keep her from hurting herself."

Spike nodded again, avoiding Xander's eyes.

"Do you think you can stay ... long enough to do this?" Xander asked.

"Yeah. I can do it."

Willow bit her lip. "I think I can fix it so you have a way to get away from her if she's determined to dust you, Spike. I'm going to put a spell on the door. Nobody with a soul will be able to pass through. That way, if she comes after you, you can duck out until she calms down."

"Willow..." Xander said, sounding very uncertain.

"It's a very easy spell," Willow explained hastily. "Just a slight variation on a protective ward. No black eyes, no Darth Willow."

She got up and dusted off her knees.

"Come on, Xander. We've got to be outside the room when I do this."

Willow raised her hands and mouthed some words silently. The doorframe glowed green for a moment.

"Try it," Willow said.

Xander stepped toward the door, but found himself unable to move through it. He couldn't lift his foot if he was trying to put it through the door.

"We're going to go back to the house and call Giles now, Spike. We'll be back as soon as we've got an idea of what to do."

Xander put a hand on her arm. "Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean they're both insane..."

"Who's got more experience taking care of an incredibly strong, insane woman?"

"You may have a point."

Spike settled down next to Buffy's limp form after they were gone. Her hand was still in his. He brushed her hair away from her face with his free hand.

"You didn't tell them about the soul, did you pet," he said quietly. "Just as well."

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Elsa Frohman - elsa@frohman.net