SNOW VIRGINS

Summary:    Post 'Becoming'--AU--Way up North.  Buffy and Spike find mutual grief the strange peacemaker as they stem self destruction and the downward spiral spun from the disaster of Acathla.  Story concludes twenty years later.

Authors note:   Had this one brewing for a bit and I'm pleased to be able to share it-but please take note, this story contains a scene depicting an attempted rape and explores healing issues centered on grief, self destruction and abuse. I believe very strongly that it is the duty of a storyteller-if you break it open you must help stitch it up and I believe this story sincerely attempts this-but if you are not in the right frame of mind today, it's alright, come back another day-or go read 'Life After Wartime'--which is all about the love.   Because like the physicians creed I believe a story should: "First, do no harm…"

Part One
Snow Woman

       *

It started as half an idea-half idea/half idiocy-and something about oblivion via alcohol-he was too far North to consider anything stronger.  No smack except the smack of being bitch slapped.  No smack.  No horse.   No horse this far north except:  the horsies.  Dru and her horsies. 

Dru. 

First it was about the horsies--finding the wild horses-and no matter how many times he had explained-no more, no more Mustangs (No…Spoike...farther, justa a little more).  So first it was about the horses then it was about the snow…the snow, making snow angels, angels, angles always Angel--and now it was about the sucker punch and oblivion…

And…and…stifle, stifle, suffocate…

No horse, no snow, only BYOB and it better be now. 

It was the sound of music, that's what drew him in.  Focused his stunned meander toward something specific.  It was the Sugarcubes and O.K. they weren't The Clash of course but a damn fine band indeed and it was the sunrise song.

"Traitor:  my punctuality is well known, when the revolution takes place, I'll be late and I'll be shot as a traitor.  When the sun rises I will not see.  I regret nothing. It was worth it."        

And he would have kept walking, boots crunching on the crystalline snow sounding almost, almost like bones breaking almost like…comfort…except, except for…coincidence.  Coincidence.  Separate events in alignment seemingly out of context to each other, existing side by side and simultaneously superimposed to…draw your attention.  To make you pay attention.

To make you pay.

"…my reward is to be free and alone even now at the pillar.  Blindfold at sunrise.  Hearing the drums of Catalan beating my time away, my heartbeat keeps time with the drums but soon my only pulse will fade away…"  

It wasn't a booming sound, just the scratchy itch in the background, like the TV playing behind your phone conversation-just enough mixture of a familiar favorite to draw one's attention from fore to aft.  And of course enhanced vampire hearing, don't you know.
 
He walked toward the sunrise song half stumbling, quite heady and caught surprised by synchronicity.   Struck stupid by the thoughts in side his head being sung outside his head.

"I smile just knowing when the sun rises I will not see…"

He followed the words of the song jacked up and streaming from somewhere back there-from that house maybe, that small house set a little to the right of the bar where he had been going.

He tilted his head, concentrating, and then heard under the song, the siren of another call.

It was the sounds of a struggle far off, somewhere there to the left behind the bar, he almost shrugged it off to follow the dying strains of his song but then:

"Ann…Annie…"  The name of his Mother but dipped in derision.

His Mothers name always caught his attention even now after a century had been spent.

"Hey…Ann show us your fanny Annie…"  This followed by the savage ripping sound of fabric rent and a hard slap. The sound of male laughter.  He knew that sound--it repulsed and excited him simultaneously.

(...hurry…)

He felt rather than heard the word.

And then: 

"Ann…God look at her ass!  That's quite a fanny Annie…"  Another slap more sounds of struggle…the distinct sound of a zipper pulled down.

(…spoike…hurry…)

He moved getting a bead on the location of the voices.

"Hold her still for fucks sake…I thought you took care of it-"

"-I did!  I dropped enough to take out an elephant…"

"I got it, I got it-Alan, grab the other arm…"

The sound of hand slapping bare flesh and male laughter--

"-Annie, Annie I'm gonna fuck your fanny-"

"Help!...Help me please…"

Scream stifled, grunt, with slap, slap, slap, laughing male bellow-Spike saw red.

It was his Mother's name coupled with a cry for help.  He ran.

"Fuck, Jake, no wonder you're such an asshole-"

"Hey, I'm an ass man, hey Fanny Annie."   He gritted the words out as he slapped.  "Fuck, I love slapping a bitch's ass."  Followed by a sharp slap and more laughter.

"Hey whatever floats your boat--alright by me if you save me the first fuck of the best piece-thanks Ann I-we… really appreciate this-"

More laughter.

 "We're taking up a collection--leave you some…'cab' fare…"

Spike was counting heartbeats--nine, maybe ten counting the girl, plus the backdoor of the bar was open so it looked like they might be doing a train.  Certainly nobody was trying to help the girl.  He had to think for a minute.  Kill them all?  And stuck up here, the hell up here, in where Montana? It'd be all over the news.  Self survival always on automatic.  What the hell. 
Four men were holding her down, stretched out on her stomach on the hood of a car while a fifth slapped her ass with one hand and stroked himself hard with his other.  There were four, three no four men standing about waiting in line apparently.  Leers on faces, beers in hand, dicks hard. 

He could smell them.

He could smell her.

Slayer?

"Slayer?"  He said out loud and stepped into the clearing.  "Slayer?"

All the men turned to look at him save the one who was doing his slapping/jerk off business with the Slayer.

"Looks like you're inconveniencing a… (not friend)…an acquaintance of mine…now if you'd pardon me…"

His polite air caught them all unaware.   He strode to the man slapping, screaming a blue streak of obscenities and now finally hard enough was positioning himself to rape the Slayer--Spike pulled him away from her body just as his body spasmed and shot a stream of jism through the air. 

"Missed your target, eh mate?  Then I guess you don't deserve these-"

And with that said he calmly reached down and grabbed the would be rapist's two balls with one hand and yanked them firmly off his body. 

"There now…no more worries now mate?  'Bought getting it up an all, eh?"  He threw one testicle to the right and one to the left and then roundhouse kicked the next asshole in line.  He thought he heard bones break.  Oh well...some survival instinct said consider-you still gotta get outa Dodge-but he hated wankers like these punks, torturers with no spine to stand up in a fight--like Angelus…artistry-he snorted and--

--sacked the next two with easy stomach punches, they crumpled like dry cake.

Bugger this was too easy.

The four men holding the Slayer down leapt as one at him-GREAT!  Now this was more like it.  He ducked under the first and let him roll over his back as he used the momentum of coming up to under cut Bully boy 2.  Someone clubbed him from behind-pipe maybe-well now that just made him mad.

Without looking he extended his arm up and back when he sensed the minuscule beginnings of an updraft, the upswing of the pipe coming down again-grabbed the pipe in mid swing and then with a flick of his wrist banged the pipe back on the skull of batter up.  There was a crunch of bone-broken wrist, and thunk on skull.

He was running a tab on the injuries-he wasn't quite the impulsive big injuries spender he had been in his youth.

He sighed.  

He jumped up on Bully boy 6'4" and head butted for all he was worth.  Giant went down.  Spike stood and surveyed the damage.  Bodies lying here, there a couple of the blokes ran inside the bar-yeah you do that, you call the cops-

The slayer.

He walked over to her taking off his Duster as he went he opened the jacket and rolled her body over into it-tucking her neatly in-

"God slayer how'd you get yourself into this mess?"

He held her in his arms, so light, barely there-turned and decided.  He walked deliberately through the back door of the building and into the interior of the bar with her in his arms.  All conversation stopped in their wake. 

Warrior enemy carrying fallen warrior enemy respect the Red Baron and Blue Max. 

The bar was lit on either sides with sparkling running lights of red, green, blue and white, all done up for the Holidays and he strode down the center like coming in for a landing

Proud.  Proud.

He spoke casually as he walked words dropping like dead lead regardless.

"Any you wankers got a notion to complain to cops about the little toss-well…let's just say I'd take it personal-and what was done the lady Ann here, I will do twenty times seven to you and yours-now what she'll do to you when she comes round.  I can't speak to-but hear me when I say I've marked you all,  I could find you anywhere, anytime and  I will be true to my word."

And with that, he turned around and roared at them all in gameface and then left amidst the sound of glass breaking and the startled screams of boys. 

   
       *

He sat in the chair by the curtained window of the motel room.  He had driven the Desoto for about three hours-just in case of cop trouble-and was somewhere, well southeast of where he had found her.

He had tucked her into bed-but was reluctant to bath her.  As often as he had taken care of Dru after Angelus had raped her, or she had taken care of him for the same reason, for that matter-he knew it was a personal time.  He believed he had gotten there in time-none of those tossers had gotten to her but still.  One could be very peculiar about being touched or held, or looked at even in the company of someone you had known for decades after something like that.  The humiliation.  Well he knew a thing or two about that.  And…it was a thing, well…it was personal. 

Also there was the matter of evidence.  She was bruised, beaten and he wasn't absolutely sure none of them had gotten to her.  Would she want to press charges? She was all bout the law and order of things wasn't she then?  He wanted to be on his way but couldn't leave her somehow.  Habit of tending perhaps.  Or maybe it was a relief to have something else at the forefront of his mind.  Would she want to go to hospital?

Slayer.  He shook his head.  Something terrible must have happened for her radar to have shut down so badly.  Her protective instinct shot to bloody shit.

Angel.  Of course.

He stopped suddenly; he stopped suddenly, suddenly still and thought nothing.  Just blank.  And then:

This was an end to the day.  The Day.  This day.  He looked at the clock.  1:10 a.m. well at least this day had become THAT DAY.

He stifled, he stifled, stay blank, stay oblivious…

Something else, something else, think, do something else…

He had to wake her up to find out what she wanted to do. 

He pulled the chair up close to the bed and spoke softly never touching her.

"Slayer…Slayer…" 

He considered her poor small battered face.  Swollen lip, bad eye-well she will at least have the satisfaction of knowing she fought back-that was real important in recovering.  And it was the biggest difference between him and Dru and why when she broke-she had broken so badly-always, always, fight back-your body may be badly broken, but it was always, always better than your spirit.  Yeah even in her drugged state, she had put up a fight.  Good on her.

"Buffy…Buffy…you gotta wake up luv…thas it…thas it…come on in…"

Buffy woolly and woozy focused in on the voice, some voice, familiar somehow, something she should pay attention to.  A frisson of sensation fizzed at the nape of her neck: vampire.  But she seemed strangely unconcerned.

"Come on luv…you can sleep later-gotta tell me what you wanna do-you wanna go to Hospital?"

What?   She focused on the voice and summoned the center of her slayer to power her back into the world.  She opened her eyes and blinked at him.

"There she is…"  And he could have been talking to Dru for all the tender concern in his voice.  This could have been Dru.

"There she is then…"

Buffy looked at the face leaning towards her considering.

"Here's our bairen…"

"Spike?"

"It's me an'all…"

He watched her face as she reached around trying to put together her life, her life all told, all remembered all until Angel…and then…leading up to the now.

Her face crumpled.

Bullocks.  He was kinda hoping she wouldn't remember.  Maybe she didn't, maybe…

"What happened to you slayer?"  He asked

She thought back.

How to answer that?

Her voice came from far away and spoke to the most recent.

"Car broke down"-(she had had sex with that young guy at the gas station-remembered consuming him in a matter of minutes)

She edited that part

"…walked to bar to use the phone, got a drink at the bar…while I waited…"

Here her voice trailed down and out…

"Luv, you want me to take you to Hospital?"

She knew what he was asking. She had a memory now of fighting a woozy feeling, fighting back the drowsiness and then fighting back for limb and life…she remembered…and shut her eyes tight…

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

She had wanted to hurt herself, she remembered wanting to kill herself and then wolves in sheep's clothing trying to make her dream come true.   And then…no…no…no don't wanna die…don't wanna…

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

She started trembling, but somehow she forced herself to say the terrible word.

"No…"

"You don't wanna go?  You sure?  It's nothing to me, but you could always go and then change your mind later but at least you'd have the…uh…" (evidence)

"Were you there?"

"Walked kinda up…yeah, heard a toss going on…"

"How many?"

He looked at her carefully.  Well, hell she was tough-she might as well get it all now.
 
"Nine blokes-"

A sharp pain pierced her heart and broke through her chest in a harsh sound.

"No, no, only one got close to you, I think, an' he wasn't aiming to …" (Fuck…he really was still an English gentlemen, damn William…could barely say the words to a lady in distress)

Experience with Angel victimizing Dru for all those years had taught him there was a universe of difference for a woman between sex an 'al and being buggered.
The hardest rapes for Dru where the ones that struck at the source of being female.
Slayer had gotten off easy on both counts.  Probably.  Won't be telling her that though.  Probably knows.

"Stop…"

"So…Hospital?"

"No."

No.  She felt alright…down there.  Her physical pain seemed topical and…and…  But the test might show the remains of several sex partners in the past few days.  The guy from the gas station, and then there was that guy, what? Two days ago from the truck stop in the back of his cab.    It would only add up making her look bad and feel worse.  No Hospital.  But plenty, plenty of bad for her to think about.  And then there would be a police report and then Giles would find her and she just wasn't ready for that.

Terrible, terrible don't lie down and take this-they had no right--

Fight back fight back inside slayer commanded.

"No."  She started to get out of the bed.

"Where you going?"  He asked as she swayed and fell back against the bed.

"I'm gonna take a bath!"   She screamed at him.

"Fine."

And then her face crumpled into quiet.

"Lay down."  He pointed at the bed.

She swayed still feeling the effects of the drug and sank to the floor next the bed-ah, well compromise.

He went in to run her bath. 

It was beginning.  

*