Chapter 4
Spike didn’t trust himself to say anything to Harris as he unbuckled the various fastenings holding him in place; his demon was too close to the surface to warrant any type of rational conversation. He knew if he opened his mouth, he’d finish what the other demon had started and to hell with Harris’ emotional state. Instead, he let loose the last clasp with a violent yank, grabbed the boy around his arm and hauled him to his feet.
Harris would have fallen if not for Spike’s quick reflexes and the hand that had yet to completely let him go, and he clenched his jaw in anger as he awkwardly shrugged out of his duster, draped it around Harris’ shoulders, and hauled the boy closer against his side to steady him on his feet.
No one stopped him as he exited the club with Harris in tow. No one dared – not after the ease with which he’d dealt with anything that had crossed his path upon entering.
Spike would have killed for a cigarette as he practically dragged Harris back to his apartment. His temper was on a finger trigger and he desperately needed the hit of nicotine to help calm him down. It was just bad luck on his part that his hands were otherwise occupied keeping Harris upright and moving.
Frustrated, he stomped down the street, muttering to his almost-catatonic companion under his breath. He didn’t get a response, and he didn’t expect one either. Harris was in his own world and wasn’t responding to any type of outward stimuli. Hadn’t been since he’d been released from the wooden table he’d been strapped to.
The boy’s expression was blank, as were his eyes. His movements were rote, and Spike had no doubt that if he stopped and let go of him, Harris would just stand there unmoving. It was as if he didn’t exist, at least not more than in the strictest physical sense. Like everything that made Harris Harris, was gone. Having been released from the demon bent on sodomizing him had apparently sent Harris retreating behind a mental barrier where not even his feelings of despair and pain leaked through.
Spike was at a loss at the boy’s bizarre behavior, and he could clearly feel the strain of the promise to the Slayer weighing heavily on his shoulders. Everything was falling apart around him and he had no idea how to fix things… with Harris, or with anyone else.
He wasn’t about to give up though, so he continued on until he’d led Harris home. Settled him on the couch instead of his own bed, not about to make the same mistake twice by leaving him in the bedroom.
“Stay put, Harris,” he told him, having replaced his duster with a blanket. His nose crinkled in distaste once more at the smell emanating from the room; he was going to have to break down and do something about the stench if he was going to be spending the next few days in the boy’s home.
Spike cast one last glance over his shoulder before he let himself out of Harris’ apartment. The boy hadn’t moved, and he just had to hope that he would continue to do so until after he’d taken care of a few things.
His first stop was Willy’s where he put in a word to have Clem find him at Harris’ home before the sun came up. Confident his message would reach the demon, he set out for Revello Drive. He needed to pick up his things from there and inform the witches that he would be away for a few days.
He didn’t say where or why when he spoke with Tara. She was the only one awake when he let himself in through the kitchen door, nightmares of Glorificus’ brain sap often waking her in the wee hours of the morning. He told her to look out for Dawn while he was gone, to call him on his cell phone in case of an emergency. Tara had nodded solemnly, and there’d been no mistaking her relief when he’d said he’d only be gone for a few days.
Spike wondered, yet again, how he’d become the glue that was holding them all together.
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