Second
Chance
No pain.
None at all.
Spike withdrew his fangs, and allowed the partially drained body in his arms to
fall limply to the ground. He surveyed the mess around him once again as he
wiped the blood from his mouth. Bodies lay strewn about haphazardly, none dead,
but all severely beaten.
*He* had done all that. *Him*.
...and there was no pain radiating through his skull.
None at all.
A slow smile worked its way across his face as he stepped around the unconscious
bodies and strolled back to the bar. Shifting back to his human facade, he leapt
over the bar counter, and rummaged through the mess he found there until he came
across an unbroken bottle of beer. Smiling triumphantly he stood once again and
uncapped it, offering the silent room a small salute with it's tip before
bringing it to his lips and taking a hefty swig.
The possibilities were truly endless now; he could get the Slayer and her little
group anytime he wanted - any *way* he wanted - they would never know what hit
them. He could have killed anyone here at the bar tonight, but he had refrained.
It had been hard, especially after existing for so long now unable to hunt as he
once had, then suddenly finding himself free to do whatever he pleased, but he
had plans for his first kill. He wanted Buffy for his first kill.
Oh yeah, the Big Bad was finally back, and he was back with a vengeance!
* * * * * * * * * *
"You let him leave?!" Buffy exclaimed incredulously.
"Well, he seemed much better this evening when he finally came to."
Giles defended, carrying his tea cup to the table where Buffy was seated.
"Yes but massive electro-shock - can't remember his own name - ringing any
bells?" the young blond woman continued with exasperation. Spike had, after
all, been knocked flat out after the ogre-like demon they'd encountered the
previous night had shoved the peroxide blonde vampire into a damaged fuse box.
Buffy had then been forced to drag her unconscious slaying partner back to
Giles, after finishing the demon off herself.
The few, sporadic times the vampire had regained consciousness, he'd been unable
to even put together a coherent sentence. Although Buffy would never admit to it
aloud, she'd been truly afraid for him - for purely practical reasons, of
course... after all it wasn't as if she were *feeling* anything towards her
longtime mortal enemy, but occasionally useful ally - because she wasn't. She
hated him; always had, always would; just like she knew he hated her - they just
plain hated each other. For nearly four years now they'd hated each other, six
if she counted back to the year of their first meeting, back when he'd first
shown up in Sunnydale, but back then, she hadn't been working alongside him. The
occasional saving of one another's lives since that time however had changed
absolutely nothing. No-thing.
"Buffy?" Giles interrupted her train of thoughts expectantly.
Refocusing her attention on the older man, she quickly searched her mind for
some clue as to what he'd just said. "Huh?" she finally settled for,
when her mind came up a blank.
"I said, he's a vampire, despite the implant, and is quite capable of
taking care of himself - which is what you should be doing as well."
sighing, Giles removed his glasses and took a sip of his tea, "Go home,
Buffy, get your rest. If it will make you feel better, I'll give you a ring as
soon as Spike returns."
"It'll make me feel better when he's a pile of harmless ash." Buffy
muttered, just loudly enough for Giles to hear, as she got up and headed for the
door, "Then I won't have to worry about him figuring a way around the
implant and going off on a maniacal killing spree." That last bit was
mostly true, at least, Buffy rationalized as she let herself out and started off
down the street.
It hadn't really been until after she and Riley had broken things off that she
realized just how much she *didn't* want Spike getting 'fixed' as he called it.
She'd still been sure of her hate for him at the time, but a small part of her
had actually grown used to having him around. No implant meant no reason to help
her, which ultimately meant no reason for her to keep him around. Strange as it
sounded, she really didn't want to kill him anymore.
Oh, she loved fighting with him, loved picking on him, loved... well, hating him
- but ending him forever?
Passing by Lowell House, she paused for a moment, briefly letting the memories
of her freshman year pass through her mind. She'd really thought Riley could be
*the* one way back then - a polar opposite to Angel - or so she'd thought at the
time. In retrospect though, she'd had more and more trouble distinguishing
between the two.
Riley had been so human - so... *ordinary*... even after she discovered his
Initiative ties, he'd insisted that things could work out for them. With Angel,
it just seemed as though one or the other would eventually need to walk away -
which Angel had ultimately literally done - but with Riley - he'd forced her to
see a *them* even when she thought it would be hopeless.
That was about where the differences ended though. Both men had been quiet,
reserved, strong yet gentle, devoted... mirror images: one on one side of life,
the other, on the other. So, where had things gone wrong, if Riley wasn't faced
with the danger of losing his soul were he to experience a moment of perfect
happiness? Demons. The answer was a simple as it was complex. Riley couldn't -
or perhaps *wouldn't* - acknowledge the complexity behind them.
He had agreed to look the other way with Spike, but that had been due more to
the fact that he could not come up with a convincing argument to her insistence
that Spike was completely harmless and therefore no threat to the innocent. He
had even begun analysing the whys of demons and not just the whats; having
learned from prolonged exposure to the Watcher method of hunting demons that
most demons did actually have a reason for coming to the hellmouth, and that
dealing with the demon did not always succeed in dealing with the actual
problem. Even the reality of magic and sorcery had been made plain to him,
despite his constant insistences that there was some scientifically based
explanation. He had really been a Scully to the Scooby gang's Mulder at times.
What had done their relationship in however, was not his skepticism about the
more magical and supernatural aspects of slaying, nor even the constant conflict
he felt between his duties as a military special agent, and his loyalty to her
as a friend and lover. No, what had done their relationship in had been his
unwavering, unfaltering, unchangeable opinion of demons. To him, they weren't
'intelligent'. They were animals. Rabid animals at that.
The concept of a 'good' or 'benevolent' demon was preposterous to him; the
concept of an ensouled vampire even more so. There were no grey areas for him
with regards to demons, if they weren't out killing or destroying, it only meant
that they were planning it. 'Harmless' demons were simply time bombs waiting to
go off.
She had been so sure that she'd be able to prove him wrong, that his stubborn
refusal to see things in that light had eventually become the foundations for
the wall that had slowly grown between them. She just couldn't understand it. Of
all people, it should have been *her* who'd be the stubborn one - she was after
all the Slayer, the one destined to kill those same demons. Yet memories of
Angel, Whistler and even Doyle, though she'd never really known him on a
personal level, had forced her to open her eyes to the truth.
The Initiative would have gone after Angel in a heart beat, soul or no - and
while she *might* have been able to accept them putting a chip in his head,
knowing the risk of Angelus returning was still very real, it wouldn't just be a
chip... it was never 'just' a chip. Riley couldn't tell her why they'd kept
demons in that underground facility, even after Professor Walsh had been killed
- why the tests continued - why the 'fixedd' demons were never re-released. He'd
suggested once that the Initiative was just cataloguing the different types of
demons, and analogized it to a biologist studying and classifying a new species
of animal.
That answer had never sat well with her, still didn't in fact, and it was almost
poetic justice when she'd found out that an enraged and powerful demon attack
had decimated the facility. Apparently the Initiative had become enough of a
threat that a small raiding party had infiltrated the facility, released their
imprisoned kin and wrecked havoc on the place. Riley hadn't been there at the
time, but his superiors had recalled him, and he'd left Sunnydale with the
remaining survivors soon after.
Spike had, of course, been enraged at the news. With the Initiative and its
people gone, his best chance of getting the implant removed had been lost; yet
he had remained with the slayerettes. In fact if anything, he'd become
significantly more helpful from that point on, more cooperative. Buffy had no
clue why, and she'd never asked.
Reaching her own room, she entered quietly, noticing that Willow was already in
bed and asleep. Changing out of her slaying gear, she slipped into her pajamas,
then snuggled under the covers. Spike had also taken to sitting in her room on
occasion after he thought she'd gone to sleep. Again, she had no clue why, nor
had she ever asked.
The first few times she'd nearly jumped out of bed and staked him, but since he
never seemed to do anything other than sit at her desk, or occasionally on the
edge of her bed she stopped worrying. Besides, it wasn't as though he could do
anything to hurt her anyway.
She drifted off quickly, unafraid, knowing her Slayer-sense would go crazy if he
did show up. It always did... besides, lately, it had been almost nice feeling
his presence in here... if she didn't know him better, she might think he was
flirting in some weird and twisted way... a small smile crept to her lips...
nahhh, he wouldn't, not with her... but she could pretend...
* * * * * * * * * *
Spike slipped through the unlocked door of the dorm room with ease and glanced
at the two vulnerable and unsuspecting bodies. They were just begging him to
kill them, leaving the door unlocked like that, even after all their years on
the hellmouth. Smiling darkly, he let his eyes roam over Willow's slight frame.
He'd wanted to turn her once... still did in a way, if he was completely honest
with himself, but no. No, tonight he was here for the Slayer.
Making his way to her bed, he sat down on the edge, watched her shuffle a bit in
her sleep and exhale loudly, then ran a finger down the side of her face. It
would be so easy, especially now that the chip in his head wasn't stopping him.
He bent forward towards her neck, then closed his eyes and sat back up.
Not like this. He wouldn't kill her like this. Standing, he removed himself from
the temptation and pulled out her desk chair, sitting himself in it instead. His
eyes gazed thoughtfully at her, as his mind slowly turned over the
possibilities.
She'd been a good adversary, back when they'd first met, and if anything her
skill had only improved since then - although, a part of him was surprised she'd
managed to last this long. Of course he hadn't exactly been completely sidelined
over the years either. He'd picked up some new fighting techniques himself,
largely because of the implant... an anticipatory smile curled his lips. A
fight, a straight, dare he say clean, fight. Just the two of them. That's what
he really wanted.
Leaning back and relaxing in the chair, he nodded to himself. Tomorrow night
perhaps, after they patrolled, he could reveal his return to the game. It would
be just the two of them, and he'd even let her do her duty one last time - die
knowing she had at least made a difference that night - it was the least he
could do, after all as much as he hated to admit it, he had developed a growing
respect for her. Which was why he'd need to kill her soon.
Tilting his head slightly as he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest,
and listened to the rhythmic beating of her heart, his mind drifted to the first
time he'd snuck in here to sit with her. It had been shortly after she'd told
him that the Initiative was officially no more. If he could have, he would have
torn the throats from every mortal that had run across his path that night. But
of course, he could not, so instead he'd done the deed to every demon that had
crossed his path, completely disregarding the possible consequences that posed
to his continued standing among them.
That had been it, his last best hope to get the chip out had been taken from
him. Anger at the Slayer for failing to help him had fuelled his rage, fear at
being stuck in his defanged condition forever fuelled his recklessness. Had he
been seeking violence, or final death that night? He no longer knew. All he
remembered clearly was that his hate for the Slayer and her band of misfits had
tripled that night.
So, after calming down, and discovering that he was indeed still among the
undead, he'd come here. He'd sat in this very chair and watched the bane of his
existence as she slept, blissfully unaware of his presence, for she would have
surely staked him otherwise, and dredged through his mind the thousand ways he'd
love to end her little existence.
He'd returned a few nights later, and then again, and agin, until it had almost
become a part of his nightly habits. It calmed him somewhat, kept him focussed
and on track, reminded him of who he was, *what* he was. Sometimes he would
stare at her shadow-shrouded face and envision it bloodied and crying, begging
for death, for a release from the pain he was inflicting. Other times he'd
envision her look of surprise in that brief instant before he snapped her neck,
or drained her dry. On rarer occasions he'd even envisioned her naked and
chained, a slave to his every whim and desire. Once, only once though, he had
also envisioned her in his arms, softly swearing her loyalty to him, vowing
never to leave him, promising to always love him. That had been the last time
he'd been here, nearly five nights ago now.
He'd managed to chalk that disturbing episode up to having missed his daily
soaps, and running into, and subsequently staking, a vampire Dru had sired with
Angelus one night six years ago while he'd still been stuck in that wheelchair.
But tonight, he noticed with glee, his mind was back on track. The Slayer would
be his... dead at his feet one way or another by this time tomorrow, of that he
was sure. Until then however, he'd have to continue with this helpless vampire
charade so as not to raise suspicion. Speaking of which, he glanced at the time
on the alarm clock by her bed, he'd have to get back to Giles' home soon before
the aging mortal sounded the alarms, and sent a search party out for him.
He slipped out of the room as quietly as he'd entered, making his way down the
silent halls. His mind drifted slowly from Buffy to the rest of her friends, as
he considered what to do about them and when. Should he leave Buffy's body for
them to find, or hide her away until he had killed them all, then present the
whole lot of them to the former Watcher before slicing his throat open. Better
yet, why not kill the whole slaying team, Giles included, then mail them all to
Angel - he paused dead in his tracks as that thought hit him. Angel - Angelus,
to be more precise - all this scheming and planning and playing, that had been
Angelus' style, not his.
Pursing his lips, he continued walking; he did not, in any way, shape or form,
want to run around imitating his sire's method of doing things - not after
spending so many years trying to prove how unlike the dark-haired vampire he
was. Yet, how could he pass up such an opportunity as this? The silly mortals
all trusted him, whether they chose to admit to it openly or not, he could tell
by the way they acted around him, tell by the way they talked to him, that
despite his early past with them, his more recent actions had secured himself a
position in their tightly knit group.
Of course he could still use that trust without having to act completely as
Angelus had back when he had lost his soul. There was no rule stating that he'd
have to flaunt their every weakness in their faces, taunt them with their own
insecurities and mock every secret he'd been privy to before he killed them. He
could just turn around one day, give them a good scare, then kill them. Quick,
clean, simple.
Nodding to himself he continued down the street and toward the residential
areas, when he heard a voice call out to him. Slowing, he turned and looked over
his shoulder to see Xander jogging to catch up with him.
"So, you finally managed to haul your dead weight off the couch." the
young man greeted good naturally as he fell into step beside the vampire.
Spike automatically offered a slightly lopsided grin, "Yeah, I was getting
a little stiff just lying there." he joked back, momentarily letting
himself fall into the 'buddy' role, he seemed to have somehow developed with the
most annoying mortal of the group. Xander would be the easiest to kill when the
time came, he tended not only to miss the obvious, but was also the weakest
member of the group.
Amy, Tara, Willow, all three were witches who'd no doubt easily get the better
of him if he didn't handle them with care. Even Giles had enough knowledge and
skill to offer a promising challenge. Anya, despite her mortality, was not one
to be taken lightly, again she had knowledge, experience, and waning magical
abilities to be considered. Oz had gained a surprising amount of control over
his wolf over the years, and Spike had no doubt that if aggravated sufficiently
the young werewolf would be able to call upon a change even without the help of
the full moon.
"Man, these late shifts are killers." Xander was saying as the two
continued walking, "On the bright side though, I can still look forward to
a night of wild monkey sex." Spike cast him a bemused glance as the
dark-haired mortal wiggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together in
anticipation.
"Channelling Anya, I see." the peroxide blonde vampire commented, with
a smirk.
"And about to do a whole lot more." Xander agreed with an eager leer.
Rolling his eyes, Spike automatically walked Xander to the end of his driveway,
and faithfully waited until the young man was safely inside before finally
making his way towards the Watcher's home. Patience had never been his strongest
quality, and the lacking thereof had inevitably led to many an unneeded defeat.
This time, he was determined not to screw things up by jumping the gun. He'd
waited four years for this moment, another few days would be easily manageable.
* * * * * * * * * *
"So, what do you think?" Buffy asked, as she staked the vampire in
front of her.
"About what, pet?" Spike frowned, grabbing one of his attackers in a
head-lock and kicking the second away.
"The bar brawl from last night that Giles was telling us about." Buffy
clarified, tripping the next vampire that came charging at her. "Sounded
like a vampire..."
"No one died, correct?" Spike grunted, taking a blow from behind, as
he snapped the neck of the vampire in his arms. He whirled around and back
handed the attacking vampire with the hand holding his stake, then thrust it
home as the other vampire staggered backwards, off balance from the blow.
Buffy threw her latest attacker over her shoulder to the ground, managing to
stake him before another grabbed her by the hair and flung her back. "I
guess you're right." she agreed, ducking from an impending blow and rolling
to her feet, "Musta just been some gang of drunk trouble-makers." She
drove the stake home and looked around for any other attackers. "Doesn't
explain the neck wound one of them had though."
She looked back at her partner in time to see him ram his stake into the last of
the vampires. "Could've just been broken glass." Spike suggested,
"I doubt most vampires would leave their dinner alive to tell the
tale." he pointed out, also casting a glance around them.
Shrugging, she plopped herself down on the ground and leaned back against the
nearest tombstone. "Well whatever," she sighed, "No one got hurt
too badly, Giles didn't seem overly worried about it either."
Spike moved towards her and sat down on the headstone beside her, retrieving a
cigarette from his pocket and lighting up while the two wound down from their
recent fight. She snuck a glance up at him as he exhaled, his eyes searching the
far off darkness. There was something heavy on his mind... she could tell from
his posture and his features. Something he seemed on the verge of sharing with
her... but something he seemed equally reluctant about sharing. It was almost
funny how well she had come to learn to read him over the years.
Maybe it had something to do with last night. He'd been different when he'd
entered her room then... darker somehow, more dangerous. She'd felt him lean
over her too, and for a brief instant she wondered if he was planning on kissing
her - or biting her, but since he couldn't do the latter any more, that was out
of the question. He'd done nothing though, eventually backing away and taking
his usual seat at her desk.
The silence that fell over them as they sat there regaining their strength
seemed to be closing in around her. She couldn't stand not knowing what was
going through that vampire's mind, couldn't stand her own conflicting emotions
regarding him.
Her eyes now seemed glued to him as what began as an attempt at determining what
was on his mind turned into a visual meal of his features. He was handsome -
she'd always known that - sexy, dark, dangerous - but since he'd also been the
enemy for so long, she'd refused to let herself feel anything other than
contempt for him. That wall of detest was slowly beginning to crumble though,
and over the years, working beside him, seeing so many other sides to him...
closing her eyes she shook her head in denial. No. She'd sworn off vampires when
she'd realized that there'd never be a her and Angel.
"Shall we move on, Slayer?" Spike's voice broke through to her. She
opened her eyes and looked up to see him standing in front of her, arm
outstretched to help her to her feet again. Grabbing his cool wrist she accepted
his offer and dusted herself off.
"I'm too pooped. Let's just call it a night and head back." she
refused. They had just dusted a fair number of vamps, the rest could wait.
"Besides, I've got finals coming up," she groaned as she remembered
what time of year it was, "I'm gonna need to put in a few hours of studying
before I can crash."
On the bright side, this was it - her final finals, so to speak. She'd actually
done the impossible: survived university - on the hellmouth no less. In a couple
months time she'd be off in the working world... her momentary good mood
flattened out with a depressing swiftness; in a couple months time, she'd be off
in the working world. Working. Forever. Idly she began trying to figure out her
odds of dying before graduation...
Spike remained silent and still while she started off. "There is the
possibility that you might die before your finals." he spoke up, as if
reading her mind. His voice however had taken a decidedly soft and deadly tone
though, removing any humour the statement might otherwise have had.
Frowning, she turned back to face him. "And just what do you mean by
that?" she demanded, still trying to figure out how he'd just managed to
voice her thoughts, while simultaneously wondering why he sounded so certain
about it. The gaze that met hers, held nothing of the Spike she'd come to know
over the past few years, and her heart fell as her mind rebelliously denied what
her eyes were seeing.
It was like Angelus all over again. "I mean..." he started, before
suddenly his eyes widened in surprise, focussing on something just over her
shoulder, "...duck!" he ordered sharply, letting the stake still in
his hand fly towards her. She reacted instantly, rolling to her left and
spinning around as she did so.
A towering grey beast roared in pain and anger as it removed the stake that had
become imbedded in its chest and hurled it right back at the vampire. Buffy
turned and watched Spike jump out of the way and meet her gaze again. The
message was unspoken, but well understood given the amount of time they'd spent
fighting together: run, regroup, then attack.
Sprinting towards him unhesitatingly, Buffy followed as Spike led them through
the cemetery and away from the demon. They stopped by the side of one of the
mausoleums and she leaned against the wall, casting a glance at the vampire at
her side.
"What was it?" she asked, referring to the demon even as she studied
his features for any sign of that foreboding aura he'd been all but radiating a
moment ago. All she saw now however was her partner of four years, looking her
over with concern.
"I don't know." he shrugged, "Never seen one before."
"Back there..." Buffy started, hoping to get something from him.
"Later." Spike ordered firmly, before letting an amused grin cross his
face. "Just making sure I could still get under your skin." He smirked
suggestively at her then, "Unless you think I've got a shot at other parts
of your skin."
Relief flooded over her as she made a requisite face of disgust, "I don't
want you on any part of my skin unless it's as a smattering of dust." she
retorted, peeking around the side of the mausoleum.
The grey beast came lumbering into view, snout in the air as it sniffed out
their scents. "Well, good news, its slow; bad news, its very huge."
Buffy observed quietly.
"I'll distract it then, you kill it." Spike decided. Taking a peek at
the monster himself. It was indeed a whole heck of a lot huger than it had
appeared earlier as it came from the bushes. With only a single, slightly curved
horn on its forehead and snout, it almost looked like a strangely mutated
rhinoceros. Its hands however had distinguishable fingers, each tipped with some
very mean looking claws. Long, stringy fur also decorated its body, near its
elbows on its arms, down its chest and midsection, and around its ankles.
"Afraid you're not strong enough to deliver the killing blow?" Buffy
mocked sweetly, grinning over at her partner challengingly.
"Nope. Just know that I'm quicker on my feet than you, luv." Spike
shot back with a wink, before breaking from their cover and charging the beast.
Rolling her eyes at his retreating figure, she refrained from replying, not
wanting to take away from the surprise of his attack. He didn't disappoint, his
tackle sending both of them down to the ground. Buffy waited until the peroxide
blonde vampire had jumped back to his feet and poised himself on the other side
of the monster, so that when the thing finally got back to its feet, its back
was facing her.
Smiling, Buffy reached behind her and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the
knife Spike had given her just a few months ago for her birthday. The blade was
significantly longer and wider than most knives, but it was not quite a sword
either. She wasn't quite sure where he'd found it, or how he'd gotten it, but
she'd fallen in love with it almost immediately.
Sneaking towards the scuffle quietly, she studied the beast's back silently
debating her options. If she launched herself off one of the tombstones she
could probably get high enough to get a solid swing at its neck, but its skin
appeared rather course and tough, and midair, she wouldn't get as much strength
behind such a blow as she would if her feet were planted firmly on the ground.
Again, however, if she jumped, she could stab its upper back then let gravity
cleave the beast open as she continued falling to the ground. That seemed the
better of the two options - despite the fact that death would not be guaranteed.
She was just about to launch herself when something moved on the beast's back
and uncoiled. Blinking in surprise, she barely had time to duck, before a long,
thick tail whipped around towards the front of the demon. This thing had a tail!
Spike didn't know...
The thought was interrupted as the vampire in question went flying through the
air, over her shoulder, the tail wrapped around his throat releasing him only to
send him crashing into a tree. Buffy followed Spike's flight path with her eyes
and winced in sympathy at the force of the blow before turning her attention
back to the monster.
Its gaze had fallen on her now that it had turned partially around, and before
it could whip its tail back at her she jabbed the knife upwards and into its
throat. Grunting with effort, she sliced downwards, opening the skin and sending
a shower of dark, thick bile down on top of her.
Scrunching her nose at the stench, she sidestepped out of the way and watched
the beast fall to the ground, small spasmswracking its body as a moist gurgling
noise emitted from the wound. Trying to fight the feeling of nausea attacking
her own body, she worked instead at trying to wipe the thick slime off of her
with her hands.
She wasn't succeeding in doing much more than just rubbing it into her skin
though. Disgusted, she looked over at where Spike was shaking his head and
getting back to his feet. "Spike, hurry up and drag your carcass over
here!" she yelled out to him. "This stuff is majorly nasty, and I'd
like to get back to shower before..." she paused and looked down at
herself, a strange tingling spreading across her body. "Spike!" she
called out frantically, as the tingling turned into a burning sensation.
Panicking, she swiped at the bile with increased fervour, feeling as though her
skin were dancing with flames. Falling to her knees, she pulled at her clothes,
desperate to get out of them, desperate to get the stuff off before she burned
to a crisp, but her fingers had stopped working for her. Convulsing
uncontrollably, she felt herself sink into the soft earth, no longer able to
move, the burning spreading across her whole body unrelentingly increasing in
heat with every passing second.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Spike looked up the minute he heard the tone in Buffy's voice change from
annoyed to panicked. Covered in some brownish sludge, she was rubbing her arms
furiously, then her legs, then picking away at her clothes. He paused for just a
moment as it dawned on him that the substance she was covered with was doing
something to her. This could be his chance to leave her, he wouldn't even have
to think up an explanation as to her death, the group would be able to see quite
plainly that he'd had no hand in it.
But that would take the fun out of it; the satisfaction of doing the deed
himself, with his own hands - or fangs, or what have you.
Leaping into action he sprinted across the short distance to her side, as she
crumpled to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably, shedding his duster as he
went. Kneeling at her side, he set his beloved jacket down on the ground at his
side spreading it out fully, then shrugged out of his red button down shirt,
tearing it into three strips.
Wrapping his hands in the two smallest strips, he picked the now limp Slayer up
in his arms and quickly tore her out of her shirt and pants. The bile however
had soaked right through to her skin, so without pause, he ripped her bra and
panties off as well. Under different circumstances, he had no doubt that he'd be
taking the time to give her now nude form a decent seeing to - desire to kill
her or no - but instead, he grabbed the remaining strip of his torn shirt and
wiped the bile off her skin as best he could, then quickly deposited her onto
the duster, unwrapped his hands and scooped her up in his arms.
Covering her with his jacket, he quickly headed for Giles' home, stopping for
nothing until he reached his destination, and kicking the door open when he
finally did. "Giles!" he bellowed as he rushed inside, heading
straight for the bathroom. He plowed straight into the man he'd just hollered
for on his way, paying no heed as he nearly trampled the mortal in his rush to
get to the bathtub.
Depositing the unconscious blond in the tub, he immediately turned the water on,
completely disregarding the mess the water made from the open shower curtains.
Blindly grabbing the hand towel from the wrack, he rinsed Buffy's body down as
best as he could before grabbing the soap and running it over her as well.
"Oh my." he heard Giles breath from the doorway. "Wh-what
happened?" Spike didn't bother answering as the mortal entered and knelt at
the side of the tub beside him. Handing the man the towel and the soap, he
instructed the former Watcher to go over every inch of skin, then got up and
headed for the kitchen sink.
He was about to rinse his own hands off when he noticed a smear of bile on his
forearm. He paused for a moment as he realized that he was feeling absolutely
nothing from it, then sat and stared at it with a frown as several more seconds
passed. Still nothing. Buffy had been rolling on the ground in under ten
seconds, and she'd been unconscious in under twenty.
Bringing his arm to his nose he sniffed cautiously, cringing at the foul odour.
It was definitely not mud. Shaking his head, he turned the water on and washed
it all off, unsure what to make of the situation, unsure when he'd become so
obsessed in being the sole reason for the Slayer's demise, unsure why half the
time, he wasn't even sure if it was her demise that would make him feel more
like the vampire he had been before the implant.
In retrospect, he supposed he only really wanted to kill her because that was
what he'd wanted before he'd been captured by the Initiative. Somehow, he'd
rationalized over the years, that completing that task would make everything
right again. But would it really? It had been four years now. For four years
he'd been fighting at her side, befriending her friends, worming his way into
everyone's trust. While he'd been hindered by the implant, everything had been
very clear to him: endure the little brats until he got fixed, then stab them in
the back when they weren't looking.
Now that he actually considered his current emotional state though, he realized
that his panic for the Slayer's safety hadn't stemmed entirely from his desire
to kill her himself. It must have been that small amount of respect he held for
her, he reasoned as he shut off the water. Wasting away from some unidentifiable
substance that hadn't even been deliberately soaked onto her just didn't seem...
appropriate. Searching the kitchenette, he finally came across the items he was
looking for: some plastic gloves, a garbage bag and a few small zip- lock
baggies.
He was just on his way out the door when Willow showed up, nearly colliding with
him as she stared fearfully at the kicked-in door. "Spike!" she
exclaimed in shock, trying to look past him, "Is everything ok? What
happened?" Looking *past* him, he noticed with mixed feelings, not *at*
him, as she asked.
Handing her the smaller zip-lock baggies he grabbed her arm and dragged her with
him towards the cemetery, "I'll explain on the way, pet." he offered.
"Ouch, Spike, you're hurting me." she whimpered slightly then, causing
him to quickly loosen his grip, as an afterthought, he cringed and pressed a
hand to his forehead.
"Right. Sorry. Got a little carried a way." he forced out through
clenched teeth. She relaxed again then, obviously believing his reaction of pain
to have been genuine enough, and followed him as he retold the events of the
night, leaving out the part where he had planned on killing her best friend.
He finished the tale as they approached the site where the monster still lay and
scrunched up his nose as the strong scent attacked his sensitive senses. He
glanced over at Willow, who was putting the gloves on, her face slightly green,
and found himself grateful that he at least didn't have to breathe.
They worked in relative silence, she taking samples of the bile, and he
gathering the discarded clothes. At her hiss of pain though, he turned to look
at her again, frowning as she quickly peeled the gloves off and rubbed her hands
against her overalls.
The gloves were sizzling faintly, though the samples in the baggies remained
inactive. Looking back down at his shredded shirt and the pile of Buffy's
clothes, he noticed that while the remains of his shirt were covered with the
bile, they were still quite intact, whereas Buffy's clothes though not
completely destroyed, were showing signs of disintegration.
"Heat." he and Willow both concluded at the same time. He looked over
at her and noticed her staring at the piles of clothes as well. Meeting his
gaze, she slowly nodded. "It must take heat to activate the reaction."
she observed, voicing their thoughts aloud. "You must not be warm
enough."
"Right then." Spike agreed, shoving the last of the clothes into the
garbage bag he held. "I'll carry the samples, and we'll store them in the
fridge until someone can get the bloody stuff analysed."
Willow nodded, and stepped back, carefully checking her clothes over to make
sure none of the bile would cause problems for her later.
Spike quickly finished where she had left off with the samples, then gathered
everything up and took one last look around. It would be up to him to dispose of
the body too obviously, if he was the only one immune - unless of course the
three witches could come up with something. He turned to Willow, about to ask
her, when she smiled and nodded.
"I'll go find Tara and Amy after I check in on Buffy." She offered,
causing Spike to frown. She smiled at his look of disturbance, mistaking it for
confusion, "Great minds think alike." she quipped lightly, hooking his
arm with hers, but keeping herself clear of the bags in his arms.
He cast one last withering glare down at the slain beast unsure if he was upset
that it had interrupted his plans for the evening with its unannounced
appearance, or if he was upset that it had dared to hurt *his* Slayer.
Turning back to Willow, then glancing down briefly at their entwined arms, he
closed his eyes and pushed the conflicting thoughts from his mind. He'd think
about the ramifications of the act, and his whirlwind of emotions later, right
now, he had a role to play. Matching her smile with one of his own, he led them
back out of the cemetery and towards Giles home.
If he could last four years, he reminded himself sternly, he could last another
few days, if that's what it was going to take.
*********
Buffy opened her eyes slowly and frowned at the cream- coloured blur before her.
The last thing she could remember before passing out was fighting some ugly,
grey monster in the cemetery. Her eyes widened fearfully at the memory -
burning! She'd been burning!
Trying to sit up so she could check the extent of her injuries, a new panic
engulfed her - she couldn't move! The fear and panic grew as she realized that
she couldn't even turn her head, her vision was strictly limited to whatever was
in her line of unaided vision.
Briefly closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, she desperately tried
calming herself. Spike had been there with her - she was still alive - where
would Spike have taken her if she'd been seriously injured? Giles' home
probably. Opening her eyes once again, she took another look around. She still
couldn't see much of anything but the ceiling, she frowned again then; ceiling -
that meant she was lying down.
Concentrating as hard as she could she tried focussing on what she was lying on,
but could feel absolutely nothing. A bed? Perhaps. Not the couch, or she should
be able to see the cushions of the back of the couch to her left or right, which
she couldn't...
A head popped into view directly above her then, startling her out of her
thoughts.
"Well, well, well, Sleeping Slimy awakens." Spike chuckled, staring
down at her with amusement. From his position, he had to practically be right on
top of her... but she could still physically feel nothing.
Opening her mouth to demand that he get off, she wheezed slightly, only then
noticing how dry her mouth was. She tried swallowing, only to discover that
there wasn't even saliva enough in her mouth to accomplish that small task.
Spike's face disappeared suddenly, and she could hear what had to be the
mattress of the bed shifting. Then he reappeared, this time at her side and her
vision suddenly began changing, a view other than the ceiling before her now.
Giles room - she was lying in the bed in Giles room. Okay, that was one mystery
solved.
"Okay Slayer, I'm gonna pour some water in your mouth now," Spike told
her, holding a cup up in front of her face with one hand, the other no doubt
holding her in the sitting position, then lowering it to her lips. Her vision
changed again slightly, and she realized that he had tilted her head back
slightly. She swallowed eagerly, relieved that at least she could feel the water
in her mouth, and the path it took down to her stomach.
So, it was only her external senses that had been affected. The cup left her
mouth, and she found herself looking straight ahead again. "Oops,"
Spike smirked at her, leaning closer towards her from the side of the bed,
"Spilt some. Guess I'll have to lick it clean." She watched with a
combination of horror and arousal as he bent his head towards her chest,
frustrated that she could see only the back of his head under her chin but feel
nothing. His head popped back up then and he grinned unrepentantly, "Just
funnin', Slayer."
"Spike, you are so dead when I figure out how to move again." she
croaked, her throat feeling much better now.
"Thought I was already dead." Spike continued grinning. She rolled her
eyes at him, ready to clarify the statement when he continued, his voice taking
on a much more seductive tone. "Your little friends have already discovered
that the effects of the bile won't wear off for a day or two at least," a
slow sensuous smile spread across his face, full of mysterious promise,
"-which leaves you completely at my mercy until then." he whispered,
his mouth undoubtedly only a hairs width from her ear judging by the proximity
of his voice.
If she could have, she would have shuddered at his words, whether in
anticipation or fright, she wasn't quite sure, although, given the lack of
feeling she had with her body at the moment, she very well could have
shuddered... "So, what's wrong with me?" she asked curiously, eager to
change the subject, her mind suddenly muddied by the insinuations of his
seductive statement.
"Well," Spike paused, leaning back again as his face took on a
thoughtful look, his voice normal once again, "-you're a little on the
short side, you can be one bossy little twit, you've got terrible taste in
men..."
"The *bile*, you moron." Buffy interrupted, her anger and annoyance
rising as he continued listing each criticism, "What did the bile do to
me?"
Smirking at her, he set her back down so that she was lying once again, then
stretched out along side her, staying within her line of sight by propping
himself up on his elbow and looking down at her. "Oh, that." he waved
away frivolously, "You'll just be paralysed for a bit, nothing to worry
about - sadly, it's only a temporary side-effect." He lowered himself down
onto his back then, and exhaled tiredly, "Willow and Giles are still
analysing the stuff, but they don't think there's anything to worry about."
he finished off, falling silent.
Straining to keep her eye on him, she realized after a few minutes that he
wasn't planing on leaving anytime soon. "Spike, what are you still doing
here?" she finally asked, not liking the how helpless she felt without the
ability to move.
"Sleeping. Now shush." he replied without moving.
"Here?" Buffy complained, "Now?" There was no way she was
going to be getting any rest knowing that there was a soulless, albeit neutered,
vampire lying beside her completely helpless form.
"Luv, your friends are downstairs babbling away and trying to figure out a
way to speed your healing process, and I am *not* sleeping in the
water-closet." She could practically hear him grinning then, "If
you're that upset about it, feel free to throw me out."
"I hate you." she muttered. Closing her eyes and trying to ignore the
fact that he was there. Funny how despite not being able to physically feel him
next to her, every other sense refused to allow her even *pretend* he wasn't.
"Hate you too Slayer." Spike replied softly, before falling silent
once again.
Groaning to herself, silently willing her mind to shut down, the ache of her
'Slayer-sense' to go away, and her body to heal itself, she reluctantly opened
her eyes again. "Spike?" she called out softly, a large part of her
hoping he didn't respond.
"Mmm?" he grunted unintelligibly.
She swallowed as she forced her next words out, "Thanks for... saving
me." It had to be the bile affecting her brain, that made her want to bring
herself to actually thanking the vampire beside her, but she did nonetheless.
For a long moment there was silence, and she wondered if perhaps he hadn't
fallen asleep on her, then, "I owed you for the other night," a voice
devoid of sleepiness replied, "We're even now."
Somehow, the words seemed to hang heavily in the air, as though there were a
significantly deeper meaning to them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him
turn is head and look at her, and a moment later his hand reached out and turned
her face to look at him. His face was devoid of expression, as he held her gaze.
"Buffy," he started, a flash of doubt passing through his eyes. He
paused, as if considering if he should follow through on whatever he had been
about to say. "If you could pick your death, how would you want to
die?"
The question threw her off guard somewhat, and she searched his face for any
hint of emotion. Was he joking around with her again, or being serious?
"Old age?" she answered almost automatically, watching his reaction
carefully.
The corner of his lip curled up slightly, as he let out a soft chuckle.
"Second choice?" he asked, a twinge of amusement lacing his voice.
"If - *when* - I do it, how would you want me to kill you?"
A sharp pang of pain went through her as she realized that if he ever got that
chip out, he still planned to come after her. "I'll answer your
*hypothetical* question, if you tell me how you want *me* to kill *you* when you
try." she offered, slightly surprised at the evenness in her voice.
He paused, then shrugged. "Fair enough."
Taking a moment to think it over, she looked him in the eye and answered,
"I wouldn't want you to drain me." she started off, knowing the
ambrosial strength of Slayer blood to vampires. "You promised to make it
quick once, but I'd want you to look me in the eye when you did it." she
decided. "I want to know its coming."
He raised an eyebrow, "So you can congratulate me for my third Slayer
kill?" he asked, lightening the mood somewhat.
Could this all simply be another one of his little mind games? "So I can
bore you to tears with the 'When one falls, another is called' speech Giles has
hammered into my skull over the years." she corrected dryly. "Your
turn."
Grinning mischievously, he licked his lips, "I'd want to go with your stake
through my heart after you offer me your blood and proceed to give me a blow job
to end all blow jobs." he revealed with a smirk.
"Pig." Buffy accused, wishing for mobility back now more than ever, so
she could throttle him. This had to all be some twisted joke to him - he was
just trying to get under her skin again.
"You always knew that, pet." Spike pointed out proudly, that cocky
grin still plastered all over his face.
"Why?" she finally demanded, not altogether sure she wanted to hear
the answer, but morbidly curious nonetheless.
Shrugging, he looked at her seriously, "You're not the begging type."
he stated, repeating his words from their first encounter on Parent-Teacher
night over six years ago, then his tone lightened again, his cocky air
returning, "If, by some miracle, we fight and *you* win, I'd want to see
you on your knees and at my feet just once."
"That's still disgusting," Buffy muttered, "I could easily stake
you from my knees at your feet without the... other thing... happening."
"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Spike smirked. "This is *my*
fantasy execution, remember?" He turned her head back so that it was facing
the ceiling again, "Besides, I'm still a demon, luv."
"An egotistical, perverted, obnoxious, annoying..." she noticed him
smiling happily from the corner of her eye and switched modes, reminding herself
who exactly it was the she was trying to insult, "-very kind, extremely
nice, lovey-dovey..."
"Watch it, Slayer." his voice cut in dangerously, an annoyed frown
marring his face.
"-defanged, flaccid, neutered..."
"Slayer..."
"-soft, fuzzy, friendly..."
Growling, the vampire flopped over to his side, his back to her.
Buffy smiled triumphantly, "-caring, warm-hearted..."
Grabbing the pillow and glaring daggers at her, he stalked from the bedroom and
out of sight. A few seconds later, the bathroom door slammed shut.
"-evil, dangerous, sociopathic demon." she finished quietly.
Sighing she closed her weary eyes once again, and for the first time in a long
time prayed. Prayed that the vampire who she'd grudgingly allowed into her
heart, despite what common sense told her, would remain on her side for a while
to come. She'd tried for so long now not to fall into the 'Angel'-trap, as she'd
dubbed it, but she had anyway. If the implant were to fail, or be removed, and
Spike regained his ability to harm the innocent once again, she just didn't
think she'd have it in her to stake him. Not after so many years of fighting
along side him, learning to see the man he once might have been, learning even
to enjoy the wit, the humour and the strength of the demon housed within. In her
heart she just knew she wouldn't be able to handle that kind of decision again.
* * * * * * * * * *
Try as he might, Spike just couldn't seem to wipe the silly grin off his face.
No one he'd ever fought against before had ever been so much fun. He was really
going to miss the blond Slayer when she finally died. He stiffened. Where in all
of hades had *that* thought come from? He wasn't going to miss her, he was going
to dance on her grave and throw a bloody party when she died.
Shuffling, as he continued trying to find a comfortable position in the bathtub
he frowned. There was no way that he actually cared for the Slayer. They were
sworn enemies, mortal enemies, *blood* enemies. For as long as there had been
vampires there had been Slayers, and the two were meant to hate each other -
*kill* each other.
Of course, demons weren't exactly meant to feel human emotions such as love or
compassion either, it made them weak. It made them all the more susceptible to
final death, simply because they'd eventually allow themselves to care about the
wrong things. Much as he had done six years ago when he'd proposed that first
truce with Buffy.
For love, he had put aside his feelings of hatred towards the young Slayer; for
love, he had betrayed his mentor, his partner, his sire - Angelus; for love, he
had helped to stop the world from being sent to hell, only months after trying
to rid the world of humanity himself.
Yet, what had all that gotten him in the end? Dru had left him, accusing him of
becoming too soft for her tastes, especially after his failed attempt at
torturing her back into his arms - of all the twisted ironies, even after he'd
had her subdued and chained, he just couldn't bring himself to raising a hand
against her. Angelus had tortured the raven-haired vampiress into a state of
eternal madness for mere lust, yet he, Spike, William the Bloody, could not bear
the thought of really *hurting* her in order to show his love for her.
The fungus demon she'd turned to after that, had been even more disgusting than
the chaos demon. She'd only done it to hurt him more too - the message had been
clear: any demon was better than having to stay with him.
Embittered, he'd returned to Sunny*hell* to kill the Slayer once and for all,
and prove that his truce with her had meant absolutely nothing. Instead, he'd
gotten yet another royal butt kicking to add to his growing list - despite the
Gem of Amara - and had ultimately wound up getting captured by a bunch of humans
who'd stuck some nasty chip in his head that had nearly been the death of him.
That would have been a laugh: Spike, childe of Angelus, slayer of Slayers,
finished, not at the tip of a stake, by the edge of a sword even, but rather
from an inability to feed.
So no, even though he knew he had the capacity to care, the ability to love, he
was *not* going let those emotions out to play again. Ever. Especially with the
Slayer - or any of her mortal friends.
Sitting up, he rubbed his hands over his face and clambered out of the tub. It
was obvious he wasn't going to be getting much sleep right now, maybe he could
wander into the next room and see what the nerd-squad had found on the monster
that had completely ruined *his* plans to kill Buffy.
Making his way to the table, he found only Willow, and she was asleep, her head
pillowed on her arms, various books and papers spread out around her. Spike
glanced at the clock. It was almost 10:00 am; Giles and Amy would already be
opening the former Magic Shop, which Giles now owned, and Amy worked at.
Until Giles had finally bought the small shop, it had changed hands several
times, never bringing in enough profits for the owners to want to keep it. Giles
had however improved upon it greatly, expanding it into a small book store as
well. Most of the true magic items and ingredients had been moved to the
basement, and only the lesser charms and stones and trinkets had been left for
sale. With Amy's expanse of knowledge, she could talk just about anyone into
buying the items, weaving a beautiful tale of magic and mystery into each one.
The store had never done better, and after Amy's return to human form, it had
given her something to do with herself.
Although Willow and Tara had finally come up with a way to de-rat their fellow
wicca, the reversal spell they had found had reverted the young witch into the
girl she had been before she'd cast the spell that had turned her into the rat
in the first place. So, thought dead by most of the town, two years younger than
the other two witches, and not even a graduate of high school, she had been
quite lost. Giles had however quickly adopted her as his own, then offered her a
job at his newly purchased store. That had been almost three years ago.
"Hmmm, Spike?" Willow mumbled, as she opened her eyes. "How's
Buffy doing?"
"Still living, unfortunately." Spike muttered, grabbing a bag of blood
from the fridge and tossing it in the microwave.
"Oh, we found out some stuff on that demon that attacked you guys last
night." Willow exclaimed happily, blinking the sleep from her eyes and
stretching as she ignored his comment. "It was a Tolgaran demon, which we
also found out, is an apocalyptic demon. Kind of like the demons you and Buffy
came across two nights ago, the uh" she shuffled a few papers in search of
the correct notes, "... the Dagnir."
Retrieving his snack, he vamped out and headed for the table, sitting himself
down across from Willow as he sunk his fangs into the plastic and drank. He had
it drained in seconds and lofted the now empty wad of plastic through the air to
the garbage can with ease.
"So, what are these blokes doing here now? The end of the world upon us
again?" he asked, slightly curious now, leaning back and slipping his human
features back into place. If something apocalyptic were coming, he might have to
hold off killing Buffy for yet another little while. Would nothing ever go his
way around here?
"Well, we've gone over just about everything we have, and there doesn't
seem to be any particular prophesy on the verge of being fulfilled. I mean there
are a couple really vague ones, but they don't seem to apply to any situation
that would happen around here." The red head shrugged and yawned.
"Xander, Anya, Oz and Tara are gonna come by later this afternoon to take
over though. Maybe they'll find something we missed."
"Joy. There go my plans for a nice quiet afternoon." Spike commented
dryly, "Any more bad news I should know about?"
"Um, you might have to patrol on your own tonight if Buffy isn't feeling
better." Willow informed him, her eyes slowly falling shut again.
"Rhetorical questions aren't supposed to be answered, Red." Spike
grumbled, getting to his feet and walking around to help her up. "Now, off
to bed with you." He picked her up effortlessly and carried her up to
Giles' room, depositing her on the bed beside the Slayer, who was sleeping once
again, a troubled frown marring her face. Shrugging to himself he headed back
downstairs and looked over at the table, then over at the empty sofa.
If the brat-pack were on their way later, he might not have another opportunity
to enjoy some quiet, undisturbed rest. Heading for the sofa he flopped down onto
his back and closed his eyes. He was going to have to wait for the Slayer to
recover from her temporary paralysis anyway before making his move against her,
so if some apocalyptic disaster was discovered in the meantime, he'd just have
to wait a little longer after that.
Hardening himself against the rebellious emotions stirring within him, he
decided he could do that. Even if Dru didn't take him back, he had to kill Buffy
- he had to do it for himself, he had to kknow that he still had it in him - that
he wasn't a just some soft, pathetic shell of the vampire he'd once been.
Ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind, telling him that the longer he
waited, the more vulnerable he was to falling into a trap of his own makings, he
rolled over onto his side and drifted off. He was free of the chip, free to
kill, and the Slayer *would* be his first, no matter what.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Wakey, wakey." a familiar voice mocked, before a sharp slap to her
left cheek caused Buffy to jerk back into consciousness. She tried pushing
herself off the cold stone beneath her, only to hear the rattle of chains and
feel the resistance against that motion. Instead she looked around, searching
for the source of the voice. Her eyes eventually came to rest on the brunette to
her side. "What's up B? Life been good to you lately?"
"Faith." she whispered, a combination of anger, fear and pity welling
up within her. "What do you want?"
"Well, I'm thinkin' the end of the world. How's about you?" the young
woman smiled with mock pleasantry.
Looking around at her surroundings, as Faith began unlocking her chains, Buffy
finally recognized where they were. The sewers beneath the high-school. What was
going on here? Something bad was about to happen, but for the life of her she
couldn't tell what exactly.
"So what's wrong B?" Faith asked conversationally, as she lead them to
a small service room. "You're usually a lot more talkative when I'm around;
'Faith, you don't have to do this; Faith, this is... wrong; Faith, there's
always another way'." the dark-haired girl mimicked sarcastically.
"You tellin' me there's no last words of self-righteousness you wanna share
with me before you die?"
"What's going on here?" Buffy asked, still not sure what to make of
this whole situation.
Faith led her to the large fissure in the ground. "We're having a
party," another familiar voice informed her. Spinning around Buffy gaped,
Dru was smiling happily at her from an old beat up and worn couch in the corner
of the room, "-and you're the guest of honour."
Seeing Dru wasn't even what was stirring the worst of what she was feeling at
the moment, it was the sight of the figure on whose lap the psycho vamp was
sitting. Spike.
Her heart fell to her shoes as she watched the two lovers share a passion filled
kiss, then stand slowly, still entwined in each others arms. Dru pulled away
slightly, leaving her forehead pressed up against Spike's. "It's time
lover. The blood of the Slayer must be offered to the Beast." she purred
softly, stepping back as Spike turned a cool gaze towards Buffy.
Faith stepped to the side slightly as Spike approached, handing him a small,
ornate dagger. He circled her slowly, dragging the tip of the blade along her
neck, careful not to break skin, then stopped in front of her and lifted her
chin with the flat side of the blade to meet his gaze. There was no emotion that
she could discern in his eyes, just the promise of death.
"The chip?" she whispered, somehow knowing in her heart what the
answer would be.
"Hasn't been a problem for a while now, pet." he told her, his
emotionless tone giving nothing away. "I've only been waiting for the
perfect opportunity." he paused, and looked down into her eyes. "I
swore you'd die by hand Buffy." he looked away then, at some distant point
over his shoulder. "I also swore you'd be my first kill once the chip
wasn't a problem." From his tone of voice, she could tell that he was
slightly disappointed that she was not. Her mind shut down, unwilling to think
of all the innocent lives that had been lost at his hands. "Finally, I
swore that you would be my third Slayer." those last words were spoken so
quietly, she almost missed them. He brought the knife down to her chest and
leaned forward slightly, as his free hand gripped her shoulder. "I really
am sorry about this Slayer." he whispered sincerely, for her ears alone.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and waited.
Nothing happened. Opening her eyes she saw Spike hovering over her. She frowned,
what was going on?
"I need some good news, Slayer." he said, when he noticed she'd opened
her eyes. "Tell me you can move again."
Move? What on earth was he talking about? She looked around, her head feeling as
though it weighed a ton. Giles' room. She was in Giles' room. What happened with
the sewer? With Faith? With Drusilla?
"Hello?" Spike waved a hand in front of her face. "You turned
your head! I saw you turn your head!" he half-turned so he was facing the
stairs. "She's patrolling! She can move again!" he yelled over his
shoulder.
A dream? Was that what it had been? She studied the vampire at her side closely,
if it had been a Slayer-dream, one of those prophetic dreams, did that mean that
Spike would get the chip out soon? Confused, she groaned, and, with some effort,
pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her body felt like lead.
He was leaning over and helping her to her feet in an instant. She looked at him
again; he didn't look any different, he wasn't acting any... 'you might die
before your finals', wasn't that what he'd told her last night? 'If you could
pick your death, how would you want to die?'. It was all starting to make sense.
"How long?" she asked, without any preamble.
He looked over at her, confused. "How long what?"
"How long have you been able to kill?" she clarified, pushing the fear
and pain to the back of her mind as she stared him down coolly.
Surprise crossed his face, then anger, "You know very well that I haven't
been able to..."
She cut him off with a vicious backhand, and he fell backwards, the loss of his
support causing her to stagger off balance. Amber eyes glared over at her as he
leapt back to his feet and tackled her into the night stand by the bed.
He growled, then roared in pain, his hands clutching head as he rolled off her
and stumbled back to his feet. "What the bloody hell is your problem
Slayer?" he snarled, his human features once again at the fore.
The sound of feet pounding up the stairs caused them both to turn around, and
Giles appeared on the landing, cross-bow in hand. "What's going on up
here?" the older man asked, casting a glance between the two.
Spike kept his mouth clamped shut and glared at her. "Sorry." Buffy
murmured, reaching up to use the bed to help her to her feet, "I uh, had a
bad dream, and-and hit Spike. Then he hit back, then, well..." she gestured
around helplessly, and watched as Spike rolled his eyes and stepped around the
former Watcher to head back downstairs, his left hand still massaging his
temple.
"Soddin' loony-tune," he muttered, disappearing from sight.
"Ah, I see." Giles sighed, lowering the cross-bow. "Was it a-a,
um..."
"Slayer-dream?" Buffy finished for the flustered man. She shrugged,
"I don't know, I thought maybe it was, but..." she trailed off as she
looked down. Spike was still safe, if he was still safe then maybe it had just
been a nightmare fuelled by her own inner fears and anxieties. "You know
what, it was nothing. Really stupid actually." she decided, forcing her
stiff body to make its way to the stairs. "I better go apologize to
fang-face if I want his help at all tonight."
Accepting Giles' help, she made her way down to the first floor and looked
around for the vampire. He was no where to be seen. There was a delicious plate
of food on the table though, and her stomach rumbled hungrily. She'd find him
later and apologize, but right now, more than anything she needed to eat.
Looking around, she noticed that there were books still spread all over the
place, Spike had mentioned something about research earlier... "Find
anything?" she asked around mouth fulls.
Giles leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Yes and no." he began
wearily. She listened while she ate, as he explained the demons, their
significance, then the lack of information he could find on any upcoming
prophesies, rituals, ceremonies or astrological events of any significance or
relevance.
Reluctantly, she eventually filled him in on most of her dream, leaving Spike
and the implant discontinuity out. It couldn't have possibly been just simple
coincidence that her dream had involved an 'apocalyptic' type event right around
the same time a bunch of apocalyptic demons were converging on the hellmouth.
Coincidences like that didn't happen. At least not with her.
* * * * * * * * * *
Spike dropped his sixth cigarette and reached for a seventh. In the Slayer's
words: this was so not good. She knew, or suspected, and with the events coming
up, he wasn't ready to reveal all to her just yet. It was his own fault really,
he shouldn't have opened his bloody mouth and asked how she wanted to die on the
same night he'd already all but promised her death.
He just couldn't help it though. He'd been too curious, and now, somehow, she
*knew*.
Well, maybe not for sure - he had managed to pull off that show of pain after
allowing himself to rise to her bait and attacking her. That had seemed to
convince her that he was still leashed, but she might still suspect. He took a
long drag and stared up at the sky; he'd just have to be a little more careful,
that's all. Chuckling slightly, he exhaled, watching the cloud of smoke haze his
view of the night sky. It would be more of a challenge now - more dangerous. He
smiled as the smoke quickly dissipated and the stars appeared brightly and
clearly before him again. The stakes had just risen - this would definitely make
things more interesting - more fun.
Tilting his head slightly as he heard the sounds of approaching voices, he let
his seventh cigarette fall to the ground, and pulled an eighth from the pack
sitting beside him on the hood of Giles' hunk of ugly metal on wheels. Amy,
Tara, Willow and Oz came into sight then, and he offered them a brief nod in
greeting as they passed by.
Buffy's voice greeted them as they approached the door, and he watched out of
the corner of his eye as the Slayer slowly approached him. Not bothering to turn
his head as she pulled herself up onto the hood beside him, he decided it would
probably be best to continue an angry act - without overdoing it too much - then
make like everything would soon be forgotten and forgiven.
"So," Buffy breathed uncertainly, shifting uncomfortably beside him.
"-been busy?" she asked, casting a glance down at the growing pile of
cigarette butts on the ground beneath him.
"Yeah, been spilling the blood of innocents and all." he replied
sarcastically, still refraining from looking at her directly.
Buffy sighed, from beside him and he waited in silence, practically hearing her
apology on the tip of her tongue... "Hypothetically, if you *did* get that
chip out, and you were totally free to maim and murder, the first thing you'd
want to do would be... kill me, wouldn't it?"
He hadn't been expecting that question right off the bat, so instead of
answering, he found himself shrugging.
"-and," she added, obviously taking that action for a yes, "If
say in this hypothetical situation, someone, we'll call her Dru, came back into
your life, and promised you the end of the world, and her love for eternity if
you sacrificed me to some hellmouth beast, you'd do that too, wouldn't
you?"
Okay, now he had totally lost her. One minute he's sure she's going to be
apologizing, and the next minute she's talking Dru and hellmouth beasts? There
was some kind of trick here - maybe she was just looking for an excuse to get
rid of him - maybe those three witches were hiding somewhere casting a little
lie detecting spell...
"What would you do if Angel told you he'd get his soul permanently, no
strings attached, and all you had to do was kill me?" he asked instead.
Yeah, that was a safe answer. He finally turned to face her, watching as her
eyes glazed over in thought.
"I don't think I could do it." she whispered softly, after a few
minutes. "Too much has happened these last four years, if you were still
helping us out..." she shook her head and focussed on him again. "...
I don't think I could do it."
He blinked at her, his thoughts and emotions far too jumbled to put together
anything halfway intelligent to respond with. He was a vampire, a *demon*, he
didn't have a soul like the poof in LA, he wasn't supposed to find himself
facing emotional conflicts when it came to the Slayer. She was his enemy, end of
story. Or at least, that was where said story was *supposed* to end, so why
wasn't it right now?
So she might not have the stones to kill him anymore, so what? Made his job all
the easier - didn't it? Buffy, Slayer, mortal enemy; hate, hate, hate, kill, end
life, do away with, finish off, murder...
"Not exactly an encouraging response." she joked half- heartedly after
a moment of silence had passed between them.
His mind shut down and he blinked at her with incomprehension, then dread. She
was in his head now, reading his thoughts, the witches, that's why they came, it
was all a set up, she was on to him, he... he was growling? Frowning he reached
up to touch his forehead, then flinched when he also became aware of a searing
pain between his fingers. The cigarette - he'd forgotten about it. Dropping it
to the ground, to join the others, he shook his hand out then felt his forehead.
He'd vamped out. When had he done that?
"Well, you and Amy had better head out, I guess." Buffy sighed,
carefully lowering herself from the car hood. "I'll just tell her that
you're waiting."
He watched as she started off, sliding his human face back to the fore, then
jumped off the hood himself, pocketed his pack of smokes, and grabbed her elbow,
stopping her and spinning her around to face him.
"Your life for the end of the world and Dru?" he repeated seriously,
"Not worth it."
He was surprised with his own answer, but it was basically the truth. He'd kill
her on his own time, in his own way, not because his former lover, who had made
perfectly clear that she no longer loved him, said so. He could feel her eyes
searching his though, trying to determine the truth of his words, and for once,
he let her, knowing with a certainty that there was nothing to hide with that
answer. No secret agenda, no hidden feelings. This Slayer would have a clean
death if he had anything to say about it.
"If it were Angel though, I'd bleed him in a mortal heartbeat." he
couldn't help but add, earning a small smile from her as a small smirk
formed on his own lips. Couldn't let himself get too caught up in heavy
'Buffy'-thoughts. The more he seemed to think about her, and his desire to kill
her, the more reluctant he started feeling about the whole thing - and he
certainly couldn't have that.
She actually gave him a grateful and relieved look before pulling away and
stiffly walking towards the door. He forced his mind away from her and towards
the upcoming patrol. He'd patrolled with Amy before, when Buffy was tied up with
school, or had insisted that there was some party or college happening that just
couldn't be missed. The brunette witch wasn't halfway bad - she was certainly
more in control of her powers than the other two, and as a result tended to be
the most effective of the three in an out and out fight.
Staring off into the night as he waited for the witch to come out, he found his
thoughts drifting back to the conversation he'd just had with Buffy. He couldn't
care less that she hadn't apologized to him for spontaneously picking a fight
with him upstairs, but the topic of their conversation was beginning to bother
him.
Dru hadn't been a popular topic of conversation between them in years - and what
times she had, it was mostly because he had been moping about wanting her back.
With the implant though, he knew he had less than no hope of ever winning her
back. If she'd thought he'd been soft back when he still did have his bite, she
would've probably staked him herself if she found out that he physically could
not harm another living being.
So what had brought her into the picture again suddenly? The Slayer had
mentioned a dream to her the ex-Watcher - had it somehow involved him and Dru?
He'd been with the group long enough now to know that she did seem to
occasionally experience prophetic dreams. If that had been the case tonight,
should he try to pry some information from her?
"Okay, I'm ready." Amy called out, rushing over to his side. She held
a gold chain out towards him, on which was attached a small charm, consisting
entirely of what appeared to be some kind of thread wound into an intricate
knot. He looked at it curiously, then raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.
"It's an enchanted protection knot." she explained, motioning for him
to lean over so she could fasten it around his neck, "I got this sudden
urge to get it for you before closing shop tonight. Don't ask, I don't know why,
that's why I went to see Willow and Tara before coming back here."
Unable to think of a reason to refuse the gift, Spike allowed her to fasten it
around his neck, then tucked it under his t-shirt as he straightened. "So
now all those nasty humans I can't kill, won't be able to hurt me?" he
asked with amusement as they started off.
"Um, it's more of a protection for the mind against evil sorcery." the
young mortal explained with a nervous chuckle. "Which was another reason
why I wanted to see if Willow or Tara could help me figure out why I suddenly
thought you'd need one - they're planning on trying to ask the goddesses if any
of them had a hand in any of this."
"Ooh, now I'm being smiled upon by the powers of good." Spike drawled
sarcastically, before screwing his face up in disgust, "Could my unlife
possibly get any worse?"
"They could try giving you your soul back while they're at it." Amy
suggested deadpan.
Spike rolled his eyes at her, ignoring the mild panic that statement brought on,
"What is it with you witches and your incessant need to answer rhetorical
questions?" he asked no one in particular as he threw his hands up in
defeat.
Maybe he'd turn this witch when the time came - have her waltz about without a
soul for a bit - show her how much fun things were when you didn't have a bloody
conscience dictating your every action and deed. That would teach her to
threaten *him* with a sappy, burdensome soul.
He had absolutely no desire to live the rest of his unlife like a certain
whipped nancyboy of a sire who would remain nameless. He'd stake himself if he
ever sunk *that* low.
* * * * * * * * * *
Buffy knew something had gone terribly wrong when a bruised and battered Amy
appeared suddenly in the middle of the room amidst a swirl of yellowish light.
The young witch fell into a heap on the floor the minute the light around her
dissipated, and Buffy, who was still picking herself off the ground from the
spar she'd been having with Giles to stretch her muscles out, rushed over to the
girl's side almost immediately.
"What happened?" Buffy asked, helping her friend sit up, "Are you
alright?"
"It was a trap." Amy mumbled, as Willow and Tara came into sight. Tara
immediately headed off in search of disinfectants and bandages upon seeing the
brunette's wounds, and Giles came into view carrying a blanket as Buffy and
Willow led Amy to the couch. "It looked like a typical vampire
attack," Amy explained, accepting the blanket over her shoulders as she
sat. "-Spike told me to stay put and watch his back, and he went off to
kill the vampire." The girl shuddered slightly then, as she closed her
eyes, "They came out from everywhere - I didn't even sense anything - they
were just after Spike I guess though, cause the minute he went down, they
dragged him off and ignored me." she shook her head, "I transported
myself here as soon as I could, but it's too late."
Tara returned and sat a small armload of items down on the coffee table, then
knelt on the floor beside Willow. "Too late?" Buffy frowned, as Willow
reached for the items and started tending her friend's wounds.
"There was something dark blocking me," Amy explained wearily,
"-it wasn't until they dragged Spike off that I could access my powers
again and get myself here." she winced slightly as Willow dabbed at a gash
along her forearm, "Something happened tonight, I *felt* that much, and
Spike was a key in it."
Visions of her dream flashed through her mind as Buffy listened to what Amy was
saying. She'd dreamt that Spike had returned to Drusilla's side - that Spike had
been about to kill her to summon some 'Beast' - could such a threat be looming
on the horizon? He had told her earlier that he wouldn't kill her for the end of
the world or even for Dru, and she truly believed he meant it at the time too,
but would he change his mind if his insane lover was actually holding him in her
arms?
"Where were you guys?" Buffy asked, getting to her feet, "I'll
check..."
"You'll do no such thing!" Giles refused, also getting to his feet and
moving towards her. "You've healed incredibly well given the amount of bile
you were exposed to, but you are still far from complete recovery."
"I can't just leave him, Giles. He's one of us now, as much as I hate to
admit it, and we wouldn't just be sitting around here if it was Xander or Oz
that had been taken, so yes, I *am* going!" Buffy resolved, making her way
to the chest of weapons Giles kept by his bookcase.
"Buffy, you have no idea what you're going up against - Amy just told us
that there was something powerful enough out there tonight to block her magicks
- you're putting yourself at risk, and - II can't believe I'm saying this -
you're putting Spike at risk if you think going off unprepared will in anyway
help his case." Giles continued arguing.
Taking a moment to think about that, she knew somewhere deep down that Giles was
right. They always researched before heading off to face the unknown. They
always had, and they probably always would - it was that very thing that had
kept her alive for so long too.
"Someone should still check to see if any clues were left behind."
Buffy reasoned. "I promise I won't go off on some personal crusade, but I
am going."
"Me too." Willow spoke up, rising. Giles sighed as he looked back and
forth between the two young women. "They took Amy by surprise, but we're
ready for them this time." Willow continued, sensing Giles' reluctance,
"I could be like Buffy's radar - the minute we even feel a tinglie, we'll
scoot." she assured him.
"Seeing as how you're likely to go regardless of what *I* say..."
Giles started, before Buffy interrupted him with a quick hug.
"Where were you guys?" Buffy repeated her earlier question, directing
a concerned gaze to her injured friend.
"The park," Amy answered, "-we hadn't made it very far at all
when walked into their trap."
"Okay, we'll start there then." Buffy nodded, waiting as Willow
gathered a few weapons for herself. "-and don't worry Giles, we'll be
careful. I Promise." she called out, gathering her items and heading for
the door, Willow close on her heels. The duo were gone before Giles could
protest further.
Yet despite her enthusiasm for the search, the young woman who had already
greatly exceeded her predicted lifespan, couldn't shake that sense of foreboding
lingering around her. Something was looming on the horizon, something big, she
only hoped she and her friends would be able to get through it. They'd survived
the Master, they'd survived Angelus, they'd survived the Ascension, they'd
survived Adam - the list went on and on - but some of those victories had been
about luck as much as it had been about skill. The longer she lived, the more
she experienced, the stronger she fought, the smaller her net chance of
survival. She'd beaten all the odds for so long now, she occasionally found
herself becoming a little too overconfident in herself.
The image of Spike standing before her, pressing the dagger to her chest flooded
her mind once again, distracting her momentarily from her surroundings. Her foot
hit something as they neared the park, and before she knew it, she was falling.
Cursing herself for losing focus like that when she knew there was a strong
unknown power out there against her, she tucked into a roll and looked back to
see what she'd tripped over.
Willow had stopped in her tracks, and Buffy soon realized why. It was a body. A
human body, and only just recently dead. Focussing her gaze on the victim's neck
almost immediately, Buffy felt her heart sink. There were two distinct bites,
indicating a shared vampire feeding. That In itself, though disturbing, was not
the worst of things though; there was also something sticking out the side of
the deceased man's neck, which under different circumstances may have given him
a slightly Frankenstein-ish look, a used-looking, rusted, metallic object: a
railroad spike.
"Willow..." Buffy started, closing her eyes. He'd killed. Spike had
killed. He was supposed to be harmless now, he was supposed to be on *her* side.
It had to have something to do with her dream, it had to have something to do
with the influx of demons...
"It wasn't him." Willow interrupted thoughtfully, causing Buffy to
open her eyes and look up sharply at her best friend.
"It wasn't?" Buffy asked, hearing the hope in her own voice. Maybe he
was still 'good', maybe he was still harmless, maybe he was still on her side...
"No." Willow concluded with more certainty. "His patterns aren't
here... but there are familiar patterns..." her eyes were closed to half
slits as she drew on her magical powers to read the ambient energy signatures
that had been left behind. Giving up, she finally shook her head, "I don't
know who did this Buffy, but it wasn't Spike - I'd recognize his ambient
energies immediately if it was.
Buffy nodded gratefully at her wiccan friend and rose to her feet again.
"If I had've come on my own, I probably would have just assumed it was him,
and staked him the minute we found him again." she admitted, taking one
last look at the body before turning to head into the park. Those vamps were
going to pay for killing that man - they were going to pay for scaring her into
thinking it had been Spike too.
"Maybe that was the point." Willow suggested. "I mean, I know
there are some old fashioned baddies out there who're still into the swords and
lances, but using a... um, *that*... was kind of going out of their way. I kind
of don't think they're collectable items or anything really." Buffy bit her
lip as the two continued and frowned. It was a little weird to have Spike
mysteriously kidnapped, and a victim bearing his signature left out in the open
shortly thereafter.
"Well then they're messing with the wrong slaying team." Buffy stated,
trying to lighten the mood again somewhat with a dramatic stance.
"That's right," Willow agreed, getting into the spirit, "Cause
we've got witches, and werewolves and uh, Buffy, oh my." she quipped,
editing her quote with a smile.
"And we're off to slay the wizard!" Buffy sang goofily, linking her
arm in Willow's.
"The evil wizard of Sunnydale!" Willow continued, still smiling.
Making their way further into the dark park, they quieted, keeping their eyes
peeled and their senses alert. Chanting softly under her breath, Willow cast a
quick protection spell over them, then a locator spell for any evil in the near
vicinity. Buffy looked over at her expectantly, but the red head shook her head.
"If there's a bad out there, I'm not sensing it." she whispered
quietly, her eyes still half closed in concentration.
Nodding, Buffy led them further into the park, taking no chances nonetheless,
after all, anything strong enough to incapacitate Amy, would probably be strong
enough to bypass Willows general locator spell.
* * * * * * * * * * *
From the shadow, two amber eyes watched as the girls passed by. Whispered voices
urged her to hold back from attacking though. It wasn't time yet. There were
still preparations to be made.
Slinking further away from the two human children, the figure turned and left.
Time to go tend to her black knight, time to reclaim what was hers. All would be
ready in the fulness of time. Everything was falling into place quite nicely.
She smiled, then headed towards the cemetery, passing by the body she had left
on the sidewalk only a short while ago. It had been quickly done, there hadn't
been time to decorate the man's body the way her lover would have, but it would
have been enough if not for the witch with the blood-stained hair. Oh well, soon
it wouldn't matter - soon the Slayer would be dead - soon they would *all* be
dead.
Giggling to herself as she continued on her way, she looked up at the sky and
smiled at the stars as they winked knowingly at her. Yes, soon, very soon, she
would have her revenge on the Slayer that had taken away her daddy, that had
taken away her Spike. Soon...
* * * * * * * * * *
"Be me..." a soft voice whispered from somewhere far away, "Be in
me..." Spike sighed and relaxed as soothing arms closed around him.
Something in the back of his mind screamed at him to get up, to open his eyes,
to snap himself out of the haze that was surrounding him, but the comforting,
cooing words continued to drift languidly to his ears, making a far larger part
of him just want to stay exactly as he was.
"Love me, Spike." the voice plead, "Love me, and I promise I'll
never leave you, never hurt you, never make you go through all that pain
again..."
Finally opening his eyes, Spike looked around to see where the voice was coming
from. It sounded so strangely familiar, but it couldn't possibly be who he
thought it was. Curious blue eyes met passion-filled hazel ones, causing Spike
to jerk himself up to a siting position. This was *not* happening - there was
*no way* this was real...
A small, warm hand reached out to rest on his shoulder and he turned himself
around to look at the vision before him once again. It was still there. It was
still *her*.
"What's going on here?" he finally managed to get out, his eyes never
once leaving Buffy's. His mind was still refusing to wrap itself around the
strange situation he had suddenly found himself in.
"Don't you love me, Spike?" Buffy's hurt voice asked sadly,
"Don't you want me?"
Hesitating, as a series of unwanted lust-filled thoughts drifted through his
muddied mind, he opened his mouth to answer, only to watch with increasing
confusion as Buffy shimmered slightly before him, taking on Drusilla's
appearance. Frowning, he looked around at his surroundings once again.
He was sitting on the Slayer's bed in her campus dorm room, and as far as he
could tell, there was absolutely nothing amiss. Looking back at her, he tried
recalling how they had wound up together here and found he could not. Drusilla
shimmered back to Buffy, and Spike closed his eyes.
Something tingled against his chest, and a scene flashed before his closed lids.
He was in the park fighting against a horde of vampires that seemed to have
sprung from nowhere. Amy had been trying to tell him something, but he couldn't
hear her, then a familiar scent wafted by him, causing him to pause. A sharp
pain to the base of his skull resonated briefly straight through to his brain,
then everything had gone black.
Opening his eyes again he looked at Buffy carefully. "Of course I want you,
pet." he assured her, giving her hand a small squeeze before standing and
casually making his way to the desk at the foot of her bed. His back to her, he
looked around again, this time trying to fight past the heavy fog in his mind.
The tingling against his chest grew stronger, and he silently thanked Amy for
the charm she'd given him as the whole room shimmered and a dull cement wall
stood before him, where in fact the plaster wall of the dormitory should have
been.
"Actually, you have no idea how much I want you." he continued as he
let the haze override his senses again. Reaching the desk, he ran his hands
along its edge, then turned around and gave her seductive smile as he slid her
top drawer open behind his back, using his body to block her view of what he was
doing. "Or, how long I've wanted you..." his hand closed around the
object he was surreptitiously searching for, "-*dead*, that is." he
smirked, withdrawing his hand and letting the knife shaped envelope opener fly.
Buffy's image shimmered back to Dru's, as the room shimmered away to reveal a
smaller, cement-walled room he didn't recognize. Dru beamed as she clapped her
hands happily and rushed over to him, throwing herself into his arms. "I
knew you wouldn't really want that bad Slayer." she whispered into his ear
as he staggered backward into the wall at the force of her sudden embrace.
Anger, hate, hurt, desire, lust, love - he couldn't tell what he was feeling
anymore as she pulled herself up on him, grabbing the back of his head and
plundering his mouth with a needy kiss.
His mind was in a whirlwind as he automatically kissed her back - he realized
now that hers had been the scent that had distracted him during the fight, but
why? What was she doing here? Had she gone to all that trouble just to 'kidnap'
him? And what was with the mind game she'd just been playing on him?
Reluctantly he pulled her away from his body and looked down into her beautiful
dark eyes. "Dru..." his intended words caught in his throat as he
looked at her, the evil and insane princess he'd spent nearly a century loving -
he hadn't ever really stopped loving - who had, in the end, ripped his unbeating
heart straight out of his chest and torn it into fragmented little pieces he'd
never been able to put back together.
The waring emotions continued to rage on within him as he searched her eyes for
some clue as to why she had suddenly reappeared again. He loved her, he needed
her, he hated her. He wanted to stop thinking and just kiss her again, he wanted
to scream out in rage and tear her apart limb from limb; he wanted to feel her
in his arms as he made passionate love to her, he wanted to throw her down to
the floor and roughly shag her senseless; he wanted to wrap his arms around her
and never let go, he wanted to drive a stake though her heart and make sure she
would never hurt him again.
Closing his eyes against the torrent of emotions, he leaned back heavily against
the wall and slid down to the floor, taking Dru with him as his hold on her only
increased. "Dru..." he tried again, trying to focus his brain on
something that did not involve having to face his conflicting feelings regarding
her sudden presence. "-what's going on here?"
She leaned up against him as they sat together on the cold cement floor, and he
could feel her smiling even without having to look at her. "One of the
Beasts is ready to rise," she told him conspiratorially, "-we're going
to make sure he has lots and lots of power to do so."
"*We* are?" Spike asked, resolutely keeping his eyes closed, even as
his arms wrapped themselves around her cool body more comfortably, and his hand
started stroking her soft dark hair.
"We are." she confirmed solemnly, "When it is all done, then we
can be together again, just like before..." Her finger began tracing small
patterns on his chest as she rested her head against his shoulder.
"And what exactly has to be done, luv?" he sighed, feeling himself
calming down again somewhat.
"I will bring you the Slayer, you will offer her blood to the Beast, then
everything will be better again, and the Beast will rise, and all the pretty
little humans will die, and we can dance in the streets and watch the blood flow
like rivers around us." she answered softly in a dreamy voice.
Opening his eyes again, Spike looked over at her. Her eyes were closed as she
smiled to herself, no doubt at the prospect of all the chaos and blood and death
that this particular venture of hers would create. How many times had he seen
her like this, relaxing against him so peacefully, so lovingly? ...and then
Angelus had come back and ruined everything.
Was she really telling him that they would be together again, just as they once
were - before Angelus, before Sunnyhell? He leaned over and placed a small kiss
on her forehead, then relaxed against the wall once again. If she was serious -
if she really wanted him back... he stiffened and looked back down at her
sharply. What was it Buffy had asked him earlier, just before he'd gone off to
patrol with Amy? Would he sacrifice her for the end of the world and Dru's
eternal love? He'd told her no - he'd honestly meant no - but things were
different now...
Biting back a growl of frustration, he settled instead for banging his head
against the wall behind him. Buffy, or Dru? Under any other circumstances,
there'd be no dilemma in that choice - he hated Buffy, and he... well, he didn't
completely hate... Dru.
But this time, going along with Dru's plans could very well entail some very
serious, not to mention devastating, changes to a world that he, during his five
months of bondage to that wheelchair, had been forced to admit that he rather
enjoyed. Freeing a beast, especially a hellmouth beast, would bring about a lot
of death, a lot of bloodshed, and a lot of violence, three things he absolutely
loved - *but* was wantonly killing off his happy meals really what he wanted?
What would happen when the beast finished its rampage of terror and destruction?
Would there be any humans left standing? Would the half- breed demons on the
earth be next?
He groaned. This was all Buffy's fault. All her fault, because it was her blood
that seemed to be needed; all her fault, because it was she that had caused
Angelus to return, which had led to Dru leaving him, which had led to this very
situation he was now completely immersed in. He hated that girl. Hated her with
a passion that was slowly beginning to eat away at the control he had only
barely managed to establish from seeing Dru again after all these years.
"Love me, Spike. Love me, and I promise I'll never leave you, never hurt
you, never make you go through all that pain again..."
The words flooded through his mind from nowhere, hitting him like a hard slap in
the face. Dru had pulled those words straight from his mind, straight from the
fluffy, twisted vision of Buffy that had filled his mind that last night he'd
visited her before the implant shorted out.
She'd been curled up on her side that night, and facing the door. She'd never
been facing the door on any of his previous visits. Usually she was curled on
her side with her back facing the door. But not on that night. No, on that
night, she was facing him from the minute he stepped into the room, and the fool
he was, he'd gone and sat right on the edge of her bed and watched her face as
she slept.
Until that night, he'd never truly *looked* at her face, never truly *seen* her
face, usually he'd watch her, her face partially darkened and hidden by the
shadows, leaving him free to imagine whatever he pleased. But with the faint
glow of the moonlight lighting up her features, he'd sat there, and every
violent thought had fled his mind as he stared down at a face completely at rest
and completely at peace.
Visions of seeing such looks on Dru's face had flooded his mind, and before he
even knew what he was doing, he was gently running his fingers through the
Slayer's blond locks. Yet when he closed his eyes, it was not his black queen
that he saw embracing him, it was his mortal enemy. The only being he was truly
made to hate and despise had been the one murmuring those sweet promises to him
- and so help him, he had liked it.
Of course he'd gone out later that evening, before returning to Giles', and
picked a fight with a drunk mortal, twice his size, just to kick the crap out of
himself for even entertaining thoughts about the Slayer that didn't involve her
death, but no amount of self-hatred had changed the fact that he'd had those
thoughts - or those accompanying feelings.
Shaking his head at the turn his thoughts had taken, he glanced back down at
Dru. He couldn't tell if she was sleeping against him, or just sitting there
with her eyes closed, as she tended to do when she was having a psychic, or just
plain psycho, episode.
Maybe he'd jumped to conclusions about her plans, maybe she was just talking
nonsense - nonsense that just happened to echo a supposedly hypothetical
scenario the Slayer had asked him about and coincidentally fit in with the
sudden appearances of various apocalyptic demons. He silently groaned, this was
the hellmouth, nothing that fit together that conveniently was ever accidental.
Or small.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Anything?" Buffy asked tiredly, plopping down on the swing. Willow
closed her eyes, concentrated, then sighed and shook her head.
"Wonderful." the blond Slayer muttered, giving herself a small push
and rocking gently, "Two and a half hours of walking around, and we come up
completely empty."
"Except for that dead body with the spike in the neck." Willow agreed
with defeat, toeing the sand at her feet. Looking forlornly at the patterns she
was making, Willow closed her eyes, "I couldn't even feel much residual
activity from the fight." the red head continued.
Standing once again, Buffy placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder,
"Wills, we're dealing with someone who was strong enough to block Amy's
powers. I don't think cleaning up after themselves would be that much of a
stretch by comparison." Looking at her watch, she tugged on Willow's arm,
"Now come on, we may not have classes tomorrow, but we still need a few
hours of shut eye."
They had made it half-way back to Giles' when Buffy stopped, patted herself
down, and groaned. "I left my stake in the playground." she realized,
slapping her forehead.
Willow looked over at her and rolled her eyes, "Well, we do have a few of
them lying around; at our place, at Giles', at Xander's..."
"No!" Buffy insisted, "But this was Mr. Pointy." Giving her
friend an apologetic look, she glanced up and down the street. It was empty, but
well lit, and they were pretty close to Giles'... "You head on back without
me, I'll just zip back, grab my lucky charm, and meet you back at Giles'
place."
"I don't know if that's a good idea..." Willow started reluctantly.
"Hey, I'm the Slayer, remember?" Buffy interrupted, "And you're
the good witch of the North. Whatever evil was lurking around earlier doesn't
seem to be around anymore tonight, unless their plan was to bore me to death, so
don't worry. I even promise not to go out of my way to patrol. It'll be
strictly: run in, grab stake, run out."
"Okay," Willow agreed slowly, "But be warned, if you get killed
tonight, I'm gonna kill you... even if I have to track down your spirit in
the... the spirit realm." she threatened half-jokingly.
Buffy frowned as she thought about that one, "If you kill my spirit, does
that mean my spirit's spirit will go somewhere?" she wondered aloud.
"Ha. Ha." Willow intoned dryly, as she started off towards Giles'.
Turning around she gave Buffy one last warning look, "No dying." she
reminded Buffy, jabbing her finger in the Slayer's direction to emphasize each
word.
"You too!" Buffy called over her shoulder with a chuckle, as she
started back towards the park at a jog. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten to
retrieve the old keepsake after launching it at a stray vamp she and Willow had
come across.
Heading straight for the playground, her eyes searched the sand, until she found
the object of her search lying beside the slide. "I should probably just
hang you up on the wall where I can't lose you." she scolded the wooden
stake as bent to pick it up. A foot slammed into her back just before she
managed to grab it though, sending her flying head-first towards the soft sand.
Grunting as she pulled herself back to her feet, she spun around to face her
attacker, wondering how she could have possibly let a vamp get that close to her
without having sensed anything at all through her Slayer sense.
The heel of her attacker caught her in the jaw before she could get a good look
at the vampire though, and the power behind the roundhouse kick was sufficient
to send her spinning back down to the ground.
On her stomach, she knew she wouldn't have time to get back to her feet before
she was pinned down, so she raised herself only to her hands and knees before
kicking backwards with one foot, instinctively judging how high to place the
blind kick. She was rewarded with a soft grunt, and bounded immediately to her
feet and turned around.
The figure, doubled over and winded from the blow, looked up and glared at her.
Buffy's jaw dropped, then a wave of dread passed over her. Faith.
"Hey B, long time no see." the brunette Slayer greeted, straightening
herself, and dusting some of the dust from her black jean jacket sleeve.
"I'd say it's nice seein' ya again, but I'd be lyin'." With that, she
gave a nod to someone behind Buffy.
Moving on instinct more than anything else, Buffy dropped and rolled under the
slide, glancing around as she came back up to her feet on the other side. A
group of a dozen or so vamps were coming into view from the bushes. She bit her
lip as she tried mentally calculating her odds. With a partner, she might've
been able to handle this no problem, but on her own against a dozen vampires and
one rogue Slayer...
Turning tail, she immediately took off at a sprint. If she could get back to
Giles, she could inform her onetime Watcher that their bad seed Slayer was back,
which meant her dream was closer to becoming a reality... Skidding to a halt,
she turned right and sprinted off again, a sinking feeling forming in her gut as
she avoided running into another dozen vampires that were closing in from her
intended escape route: they were going to try to box her in.
Another group appeared before her and she slowed. Try nothing - they *were*
boxing her in, and now she had no where left to run. Reaching for her knife, she
took a few deep breaths and charged.
Her first swing cut the head clean off one of the vamps, and her elbow caught a
second square in the face. Running her blade through an oncoming third, she spun
swiftly and decapitated a fourth coming up on her left. The one she'd elbowed,
now sporting a bloody nose, charged at her again, and she lashed out with a
side-kick, connecting with his chest and sending him flying back into a tree.
An unexpected blow from behind sent her staggering forward though, and a kick to
her right hand caused her to lose her grip on her weapon. Determined not to give
in, she sidestepped a tackle, grabbing this new vampire by the back of his
jacket and sending him flying into bloody-nose vamp, who was once again coming
at her.
Diving to the ground and tucking into a front roll, she avoided a punch aimed at
her head, grabbing the punching vamp from behind and delivering three swift
kicks, one to the back of his legs, one to the small of his back as he fell to
his knees, and one to the back of his head once he landed on his knees, that
last kick sending him face-first into the ground, where he remained motionless.
A tackle from her right however, sent her sprawling to the ground beneath a
particularly heavy set vamp. He was strong too, but she managed to twist around
sufficiently to grab his head and give a mighty twist, snapping his vertebra and
rendering his body limp. She was however stuck rather snugly beneath him with a
whole new wave of vampires closing in on her.
Looking around frantically, she spotted her knife just to her left, and
stretched for it. Her hand had just closed around its hilt when a foot stomped
down on her arm, causing her to cry out in pain.
"Wow, you're really cookin' tonight B!" Faith's voice congratulated
her with enthusiasm. The dark-haired Slayer came into view from further to her
left and walked up to the knife that was still clutched uselessly in her hand.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" she smiled, her eyes lighting
up with interest as she knelt and pried the weapon out of Buffy's hand. "I
don't remember you sportin' blades." She ran a finger down the sharp edge,
then turned a cold look on her fellow Slayer. "Except for the one you tried
to kill me with." she spat out, before whipping her leg out and crashing
the side of her foot into Buffy's temple.
The world went black as Buffy's head fell to the ground. Her last thought,
strangely enough, was of her promise to Willow only minutes ago. Looked like she
was going to be letting her friend down - especially if her dream was any
indication of what would soon be coming up.
* * * * * * * * * *
Faith tested the shackles one last time before standing and looking down at the
blond Slayer who lay unconscious on the floor at her feet. There had been a
time, a brief time, when she'd felt a kinship with the blond.
That had been back when she'd first arrived in Sunnydale. She couldn't believe
that this Slayer had made friends and carried on with a life outside of her
duties. That rebellious spirit had called out to Faith, made her feel less of a
failure and outcast. Goodness knew Faith had rarely been one to follow the rules
and do as she was told - yet here, in Sunnydale, despite all the stories she'd
heard of Slayers and who they were and what they were supposed to be, she'd
found a kindred spirit: another Slayer who didn't go by the books all the time.
Then they had accidentally killed a man - a mortal. Buffy had had her little
network of support to fall back on, and Faith had had no one. Things had very
quickly gone downhill from there. When she had met the Mayor, had she been
planning on joining him, or just pretending to so she could get close to him -
prove to everyone that she was still a good Slayer, despite the little slip up
with that murder? She could no longer remember. All she could remember was that
ole Richard had shown her an affection that she hadn't truly known since her
first Watcher had died.
He'd become that parent she'd never known, the father she'd never had - and
wouldn't you know little Buffy-do-right was right there in her face preaching
right and wrong from her pretty castle in the sky. Well not everyone was born
Slayer royalty. Not everyone had a loving mother, dim-witted though she may have
been, or a group of sappy friends who were always lending a comforting shoulder
to cry on - when they weren't busy getting themselves in over their head in with
the slayage.
So Mayor Wilkins had wanted to ascend, who was to say he couldn't have brought a
little order to the world? Who was to say he couldn't have put little snots like
Buffy in their proper place? If worse came to worse, he would've at least made
life far more interesting for everyone - an all-powerful demon running wild,
terrorizing all those people that thought they were so special and safe just
because they didn't have to go out and face the evils lurking in the night.
"You've done well, little one." Dru's voice floated over to her then,
shaking her mind back to the small alcove she was standing in.
"Yeah, lost a few boys though." she answered, turning to face the
vampiress.
"Pity." was the only comment made as the raven-haired vampire drifted
closer and knelt at Buffy's side. "Soon." she whispered to herself, as
she gently stroked the fallen Slayer's cheek.
"Yeah, soon this whole miserable town can go to hell." Faith muttered
bitterly in agreement. They could all pay for the misery she'd gone through,
every pathetic little one of them. She had no delusions about her own fate when
all was said and done - but at least she'd have the satisfaction of knowing that
Buffy and her geeky little friends would all be dying with her - and hey, they
were going to go out with a bang. Nothing said chaos and calamity like a good
hellmouth beast after all.
* * * * * * * * * *
Spike paced restlessly in the small enclosed room. He couldn't believe it; she'd
left him in here alone - worse, she'd *locked* him in here alone! Memories of
the sterile, white room he'd been trapped in when the Initiative first caught
him filtered through his mind as he angrily pounded his fists against the wall.
Before drifting off with his beautiful goddess in his arms, he'd managed to
convince himself that she'd been serious, that she really wanted to come back to
him. In fact, most of his more negative and destructive feelings had toned down
almost completely - but waking up alone, and *locked* in a soddin' room he
hadn't asked to be brought to was bringing his anger and rage bubbling eagerly
back to the surface.
Growling, he kicked uselessly at the door, again, then slumped back against the
wall facing the door and glared at it. Whatever game his Dru was playing at
here, he was going to be very hard pressed not to slam her against the nearest
wall when she returned, and remind her, slowly, why no other vampire had dared
to touch her in all the years they'd been together.
When at long last he heard the click of the door being unlocked, it took all his
willpower and restraint not to rush over and yank the door open himself. Dru
slipped in wearing a sly smile and rushed over to his side, crouching down until
her lips were tantalizingly close to his ear.
"Are you ready to feed the Beast?" she asked, completely oblivious in
her obvious glee to his current mood.
Without answering, he spun around and grabbed her shoulders, pinning her roughly
between his body and the wall. "Where did you go?" he asked in a low,
barely controlled voice.
"To get you your prezzie." she answered, still smiling gleefully,
despite the threatening rumble emanating from his chest.
"No more games, Dru." he warned darkly, giving her a rough shake.
"What the bloody hell is going on here?"
She closed her eyes and sighed, her head tilting slightly to the side, "The
Hell Beast is calling for her blood," she whispered quietly, as if it were
some big secret she wasn't supposed to tell. "He needs to taste her to
break free, and you need to offer it, or it won't work." she confided,
before opening her eyes and looking at him hopefully, "You will help me,
won't you?"
Try as hard as he might, he could not refuse that look, or that desperate tone.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he loosened his grip somewhat, "Of
course I'll help you, baby." he relented, "Just..." he trailed
off, he was *not* going to beg her to stop leaving him. He was *not* going to
let himself look that pathetic in front of her, "-why does it have to be
me?" he asked instead.
She didn't answer him, instead bringing her lips up to meet his. He knew
somewhere deep inside that he was doomed if he didn't stop it then and there,
but a larger part of him didn't really care anymore. He returned her kiss with
passion, his arms wrapping themselves around her smaller body and pressing her
as close to him as was physically possible.
"With the blood of the Slayer..." Dru murmured against his lips
absently, before kissing her way down to his neck, "-the blood of the
Child...", he felt her fangs descend and scrape lightly against his skin,
"-the curse will be lifted, and the Beast will rise." She teased him
lightly with her fangs, never once breaking skin, but gnawing gently
nonetheless. "We'll be together again, Spike. Won't you be happy for
us?" she asked, pulling back and smiling wickedly up at him.
Trying to regain his control Spike nodded silently as she took a hold of his
hand and led him towards the door. There was something about all this that still
wasn't sitting well with him, but he had never been able to deny his princess
anything. The only question he wondered about was whether he'd be able to
justify doing all this in the end.
He had wanted to kill Buffy on his own, in his own way, not while she was
completely helpless to fight back. But the prospect of having Dru back at his
side for the rest of eternity... even if eternity turned out to be a literal
living hell? That small voice in the back of his mind asked. He wanted Dru,
there was no doubt about that in his mind at all, but he wanted her in *this*
world, where they could go out and wreck havoc themselves, not meekly follow the
bloodied path of some hellmouth beast.
She led them out into the sewers, and Spike automatically glanced around
curiously, they were almost directly beneath the old high-school, if his memory
served him right. Opening another almost hidden door, she led him inside, and
over to a couch. This room, unlike the one he'd just come from did not have a
light bulb in the ceiling to light the room, but it did shine brightly from a
number of candles that had been scattered about. By the far wall, a rather large
fissure in the ground had been left untouched - an opening to the hellmouth no
doubt, Spike reasoned as he sat down, wrapping his arms around Dru as she sat
down with him.
Trying to push his feelings of uncertainty to the back of his mind, he kept his
eyes focussed on the door, watching as a shackled Buffy was led into the room by
a dark-haired mortal, who looked suspiciously like that Slayer Faith, whom he
never had met, personally.
Leading the blond Slayer to the fissure, the brunette looked over at Dru and
waited. Buffy turned her head slowly to follow her gaze, and her eyes briefly
met with Spike's.
"We're having our party now," Dru smiled happily from her place on
Spike's lap, "-all the guests are here."
Turning around to face him again, Dru brought her lips down upon his, as if to
provoke the Slayer, which Spike thought was fairly ridiculous since he and Buffy
didn't even like each other, but the passion of the kiss soon got the better of
him. He stood with her slowly, their lips still pressed together, their arms
still around one another, until Dru pulled away, leaving her forehead pressed up
against his. "It's time lover. The blood of the Slayer must be offered to
the Beast." she purred softly, stepping back as Spike turned a cool gaze
towards Buffy.
Faith stepped to the side slightly as Spike approached, handing him a small,
ornate dagger, and he circled her slowly, dragging the tip of the blade along
her neck, careful not to break skin, his mind a whirl. Could he do this? Could
he kill this Slayer like this? Bleed this child? He mentally frowned as he
stopped in front of her, keeping his face carefully expressionless. Lifting her
chin with the flat side of the blade he studied her again; she was no child. Not
anymore anyway. No, she had grown into a young woman.
'With the blood of the Slayer, the blood of the child...' he repeated silently
to himself... child, child, child... *childe*...
"The chip?" Buffy whispered, a knowing look in her eye despite the
question.
"Hasn't been a problem for a while now, pet." he told her, his
emotionless tone giving nothing away. The more he thought of this whole
situation, the less sense it made, "I've only been waiting for the perfect
opportunity." he paused, and looked down into her eyes. "I swore you'd
die by hand Buffy." he admitted as looked away, his mind turning over the
possibilities as he continued to stall.
He felt like slapping himself when another answer to this whole mess occurred to
him; 'the curse will be lifted, and the beast will rise'. Not once had Dru ever
mentioned that it would be a hellmouth monster - he had simply assumed. She'd
called it a *beast*, and on the hellmouth, a beast could be so much more than
just a physical monster. There were definite hellmouth energies about to be
unleashed, that could explain the demon influx, but he of all demons should have
known better. Nothing was ever as it seemed where mystical energies of any kind
were concerned.
As one realization led to another, he felt his world crumble, 'we'll be together
again' she had told him, 'won't you be happy for us', 'the curse will be
lifted', 'the blood of the childe'. He'd assumed she was talking about the two
of them, but now... was this all some scheme to get her precious daddy back?
'Why does it have to be me?'
'With the blood of the Slayer, the blood of the Childe, the curse will be lifted
and the beast will rise.'
Biting back his anger and heartache, he forced himself to continue speaking,
"I also swore you'd be my first kill once the chip wasn't a problem."
he told her with only a hint of regret. Nothing had ever gone according to plan
for him - not since coming to Sunnyhell all those years ago - he'd been a fool
to think this time would be any different. No, Buffy wouldn't be his first kill,
but... "Finally, I swore that you would be my third Slayer." those
last words were spoken so quietly, he wasn't sure if she'd heard them. Faith -
he would kill Faith first, get his Slayer kill, then Dru...
He brought the knife up to her chest and leaned forward slightly, as his free
hand gripped her shoulder. "I really am sorry about this Slayer." he
whispered sincerely, for her ears alone. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath
and waited.
If the pain he was feeling right now wasn't so overwhelming, he might have
laughed at her defeated expression. As it was hurt and rage were waging a war
for dominance in him right now, and amusement was about the furthest thing on
his mind.
His Dru, his dark goddess, his princess, his black queen, the love of his
immortal existence - she would've sacrificed him along with the Slayer just to
get Angelus back. Devastated did not even begin to describe what he was feeling
at that moment.
"Run for the door, don't look back, and don't let anyone draw your
blood." he hissed into Buffy's ear, releasing her and giving her a shove
towards said door. Her eyes flew open in surprise, but he ignored her as he
launched the blade at the dark-haired Slayer. It imbedded itself nicely in her
chest and she staggered slightly, an equal expression of surprise on her face,
before she fell to the ground. "Go!" he shouted menacingly at the
blond Slayer, before turning his attention to the vampiress who was shrieking
angrily and charging towards him.
He watched from the corner of his eye as Buffy fled the room, then steeled
himself for what was to come.
* * * * * * * * * *
Buffy made it to the nearest ladder before the events that had just taken place
hit her full force. Spike had just saved her. Spike had just killed Faith. Spike
had just prepared himself to face off against his former lover.
She paused and looked back down the tunnel she had come from. Spike had also
lied about the chip. Spike was also a one-hundred percent, fully recovered
vampire, and therefore a killer, and therefore her enemy...
Cursing, she looked down at her wrists. If she could only figure out a way to
get these things off, she could... she could what exactly? Go help her soulless
vampire partner who was now fully capable of killing her? Go kill the soulless
vampire partner who she had reluctantly come to accept as a friend? - and it
didn't matter if he'd been hating her the whole time - if he'd meant what he'd
said about biding his time to kill her - *she* had a soul, she had compassion,
she had worked with him for too long now to pretend that he was still the same
enemy he'd been four years ago.
He might not have to face the moral dilemmas she was faced with at this turn of
events, but her conscience, her soul, demanded that she come to terms with what
exactly she was feeling for him. She refused to go through another Angelus
episode in her life - she would just have to make her decision now, and learn to
live with it.
The earth rumbled and shook beneath her then, and in a heartbeat she knew her
choice; Angelus had been cruel - sadistic - obsessed, Spike, even in the worst
she'd seen and heard of him had never gone that far over the edge. He was *not*
Angelus.
Sprinting back down the tunnel, she peeked into the room then closed her eyes.
There was a dull greenish, greyish smoke rising from the fissure in the floor -
but how? Drusilla had said the ritual required her blood... her eyes widened and
drifted over to Faith's fallen body... the blood of a Slayer."
Sneaking back into the room, she ignored the fighting going on, the two
combatants so caught up in each other that neither registered her presence.
Searching the dead girl's body, she soon found what she was looking for, and
pulled the small key from the pocket of Faith's jacket.
Unlocking her shackles, she dragged the body from the edge of the fissure,
although the damage had already been done - Faith's blood had pooled and then
dribbled over the edge of the fissure and into the depths of the hellmouth.
Buffy only hoped that not enough blood had been spilt.
Looking back down at the dead Slayer, then over at the battle going on only a
few feet away, she then pulled the dagger from Faith's chest and stood. Spike
was crouching with his back to her at the moment, wiping blood from the corner
of his mouth, as he growled at Dru. The vampiress was also crouched, her eyes
and face wild as she returned the growl with equal fervour.
Buffy aimed the dagger carefully, then unhesitatingly let it fly. Dru shrieked
in surprise and pain as the dagger imbedded itself into her left shoulder, Spike
didn't even hesitate as he lunged forward and sunk his fangs into his former
lover's throat.
Unsure why she was doing it exactly, she forced herself to stay, despite the
fact that Spike hadn't seemed to register her presence - or maybe, she realized,
*because* Spike hadn't seemed to register her presence. She closed her eyes in
silent sympathy as the growls and grunts became whimpers and sobs, then quietly
slipped out of the room again and slumped over in the nearest alcove.
Her heart went out to the peroxide blonde vampire as she listened to him cry in
the room not ten feet away from her, and she was torn between keeping her
distance and running to his side to comfort him. She had no clue why he had
chosen to attack Dru like that, why even he had chosen to help her when
everything she thought she'd known about him suggested he'd do anything for the
whacko he was helplessly in love with.
How long she sat there listening to him, she couldn't recall, but when he
finally emerged, his face showed no signs of any kind of emotion whatsoever. The
literally dead expression on his drawn face broke her heart anew. She'd felt
almost exactly as he looked when she'd been forced to send Angel to Hell six
years ago.
He passed right by her without even acknowledging her presence, and from the
blank look in his eyes, she doubted he'd have even noticed her if she'd jumped
out of the shadows and done a song and dance in front of him. Watching him
wander down the tunnel, she turned her attention back to the room. Entering once
again, she noticed that he hadn't killed Drusilla, though certainly the
vampiress looked much paler than normal. The knife had also been withdrawn from
the vampiress' shoulder and thrust into the side of her neck, causing what
little blood was left within the unconscious body to leak out slowly, drop by
drop.
She shook her head in confusion at the act, then rushed back out into the
tunnels to follow Spike. He emerged back to the surface on Crawford Street, and
headed towards the mansion, bypassing the large house in favour of the hill
behind it.
Frowning, Buffy continued to follow him, watching as he stood motionless on the
top of the hill facing the east. A few minutes passed and he did nothing, then
he fell to his knees and lowered his head.
Realization dawned on Buffy as she continued to watch his motionless form. In
less than an hour, the sun would be coming up, she closed her eyes and groaned.
Not again. Why was it that the only suicidal vampires around had to be the ones
that wormed their way into her heart first?
Trudging up the hill she gingerly sat down beside him, and when he didn't react,
placed a comforting hand on his knee.
"Come to watch the big bad vampire go poof?" he asked humourlessly,
still not moving, not even to look at her.
"Spike, I don't think this is the answer." she told him gently, the
Slayer in her wondering why she had to care so much what he did one way or
another. Wouldn't suicide make her life a whole lot easier? Then she wouldn't
have to face staking him herself later... and there *would* be a later. Without
the chip curbing his violence, there was nothing keeping him from falling right
back into his old habits.
"No?" Spike shot back bitterly, raising his gaze to the sky,
"Let's see, I lose the woman I love more than blood to the man I once
called a friend, causing me to go against everything that I am to team up with
my blood enemy so I can help save the world and get my woman back. I do all
this, only to get very painfully dumped by said woman, and end up returning, not
once but twice to the place that started this whole mess.
"I find out that the Gem of Amara is buried here somewhere, find it, only
to lose it, then find myself turned into some bloody lab rat by a bunch of
humans who can't decide if they want to play god, or *be* god. To make a long
story short, they stick a friggin' chip in my head that won't let me lift a
single soddin' finger against any living being, which leads to me going against
everything that I am yet again to help my mortal enemy because suddenly I
realize I have no where left to turn.
"After suffering through that hell for four long years, I finally get my
bite back, and, so I think, my woman, only to find out that I don't really want
to kill my enemy anymore, and my woman doesn't really want to be with me."
He snorted with self-disgust as he bowed his head once again. "I'm at the
end of my rope, Slayer - I'm not crawling back to you and running around like a
little clone of Angel."
Buffy was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he'd just admitted
aloud to not really wanting her dead, as his last words broke through to her.
"You're *not* a clone of Angel," she insisted, "-and no one
thinks of you that way anyway. And why can't you come back? Dru was a-a ho, if
she couldn't see what she was giving up when decided to dump you, but Spike,
you're... you're needed... here." she finished in a near whisper.
He let out a bark of laughter at that, "Needed; really? By who? You and the
loser patrol?" he shook his head incredulously, "For four long years
I've hated you all, each and every day swearing I'd kill you as soon as I got
the chip out - you think you know me Slayer? You think any of your ilk do? It
was called a game - a role - a temporary role that I had to suffer through
before I could do the one thing I ever really wanted to do. Kill. You.
All." he emphasized each of those three last words with a punch to the
ground.
For some reason that didn't come as much of a surprise to her - and she knew she
probably should have been a little upset - but there was something else
underlying his words. She crossed her fingers and silently hoped she was right
about it; as much as he hated it, some small part of him had enjoyed belonging
somewhere - even if he still wanted to kill them.
"We *all* need you," she repeated, "-we all care about you, even
though some of us might be loathe to admit it..."
"Save it, Slayer." he interrupted coldly, "I couldn't care less
what your little group may or may not need or want or care about."
"Why? You don't like the truth?" she challenged, her frustration
growing. "You don't like what life dished out for you? Well tough. Life
isn't fair - take it from someone who's had nothing *but* unfairness heaped up
on her. You've had a few obstacles, heck, you've had a few *mountains* shoved in
front of you, but this - this giving up is *not* the answer."
"You wouldn't understand." he answered dully, "You're a human -
*I'm* not supposed to be feeling half the things I do..."
"Bull." Buffy shook her head. "You're as anomalous a vampire as I
am a Slayer. We both emote far more than we probably should, we're both the odd
ones out of our kind. You think I haven't lived through hell several times over?
Well I have, and each time I feel like a piece of me has been ripped away and
lost forever, but you don't see me lying down and giving up. It's hard, Spike, I
know, I've been there, but I've had people who care enough to help me through
it, and like it or not, you've got people who'll help you through whatever
you're going through too.
"Giving up like this is the coward's way Spike, and if nothing else, I
*know* you're not a coward."
Spike shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah, I am." he disagreed completely
deadpan.
From his tone of voice she knew further argument would be impossible. With Angel
at least she had had their love driving her desperation, with Spike though, she
was at a loss as to what she could or should say. In fact, with Spike she was at
a loss as to where the desperation to keep him around was even stemming from.
No, that was a lie. She knew very well where her desperation right now was
coming from - but there was no way she'd ever admit to it aloud...
Glancing at the rapidly lightening sky, Buffy tried one last gambit, "How
bout a deal Spike?" she offered, silently praying for a miracle.
He finally raised his head to look at her, reluctance clearly written on his
face, "What kind of deal?" he asked warily.
Buffy took a deep breath, it had happened once before, and if the Powers That Be
had any heart at all, it could happen again... "If the sun comes up, and
you don't... poof... then you give me your word that you won't try this again,
and you'll continue helping me."
He gave her an odd look, then rolled his eyes, "Sure. Whatever." he
agreed flippantly.
Grabbing his shoulders, she turned him around to face her, holding his gaze with
her own. "Your word, Spike." she insisted more firmly.
Pursing his lips, he glanced at the sky, there was not a cloud to be seen, and
Buffy knew what he had to be thinking, "Fine." he agreed more
solemnly, "If I'm not a pile of dust by the time the sun is up, I'll keep
helping you - no tricks though Slayer. You knock me out and drag me behind the
nearest tree, the deal's off."
She nodded, and on some impulse she couldn't begin to explain, she wrapped her
arms around him. He stiffened slightly, and she half expected him to pull away,
but then he relaxed again. She continued to silently pray, her eyes closed
tightly.
"I think..." she whispered hoarsely, unsure who, if anyone, she was
talking to, knowing only that it was very likely that this last ditch gamble
might not pay off, and suddenly needing to voice aloud the one emotion, the one
feeling, she knew she'd regret forever if she refused acknowledging it, "I
think I... love you."
A stiff silence answered her, then a genuinely curious voice asked,
"Why?"
"You're all I've got." she whispered back, as the first rays of dawn
flickered across the horizon, "You're all I've got."
* * * * * * * * * *
Spike froze as he heard her whispered words. 'I love you.'? - no, she didn't.
She didn't even know what love was the stupid chit, she couldn't possibly even
begin to truly understand the significance of those words... and yet...
"Why?" he heard himself asking, for some reason needing desperately to
know. One brief fantasy - he'd had one brief fantasy about this moment - or
something closely resembling this moment, minus perhaps his impending death -
and he was doomed to have it haunt him forever. The fact that forever would only
be another few seconds was lost on him completely as he waited for her answer.
"You're all I've got." she whispered softly, silent tears flowing down
her cheeks and onto the side of his head that she was leaning on. A searing,
burning pain engulfed him as he heard her murmur once again, "You're all
I've got."
Funny how he'd been so prepared to end it all fifteen seconds ago, so absolutely
certain that there would be not a single regret facing him as he watched his
first sunrise in nearly two centuries. Also funny was how three little words,
followed closely by four little words, could change that preparedness and
certainty so drastically, so quickly.
"Please don't leave me..." a far away voice begged, as he felt a
searing, white-hot pain spread across his body, "-I promise I'll never
leave you, never hurt you, never make you go through all that pain
again..."
He wanted to grasp onto those words, grasp onto the person delivering those
words, grasp on and never let go. But of course, nothing ever went his way on
this hellmouth, his insides felt as though they were being stuffed with red-hot
coals, yet no scream would form in his throat, despite the mind numbing pain.
He realized, just as he lost consciousness, that he really hadn't been ready for
final death - he realized that he actually *wanted* to live, not just for the
Slayer cradling him in her arms, but also for himself. He'd wasted so much time
tramping about in denial and anger, completely blind to what had been going on
around him - he didn't have a soul, hadn't ever had a soul - nor did he want one
now, but he had, though he refused to admit to anyone, especially himself,
changed. Changed enough that he was actually curious about what working on the
other side of things might be like...
A brief flash of light blinded him, and a symphony of whispers flooded his ears
before all fell silent, and he let the darkness swallow him.
* * * * * * * * * *
It took Buffy a moment to realize that there was still a body in her arms. A
body completely bathed in sunlight that should have been combusted to a
smattering of ash by now. A fresh torrent of tears flooded down her cheeks as
she looked skyward and sent a silent thank you out to whoever had been
listening.
A second chance. She was getting a second chance - *he* was getting a second
chance. Just as Angel had been given. She looked back down at him, at the way
the sun was playing across his features and smiled. No, not like Angel had been
given - a different chance - a completely different chance.
Silently debating whether or not to move him, she decided not, instead she
leaned over, gently shaking him. First she'd make sure he was okay, then they'd
see about moving him.
* * * * * * * * * *
Drusilla looked over at the fallen Slayer as she forced her eyes open - now, the
shadows urged, she had to act now. Reaching up to the dull ache in the side of
her neck, she grabbed the hilt of the dagger and, with some effort pulled it
out.
Spike had betrayed her. Why hadn't the stars told her of that possibility? She
wouldn't have let him die - she could never do that to him - all she'd needed
was a little blood. The spells had already been cast, she'd done everything she
could...
*Now* - she frowned at the shadows as she rolled over and dragged herself to her
feet, they wanted her to complete the ritual - but it was too late now, wasn't
it?
With faltering steps, she staggered slowly towards the dead mortal in the room
with her, falling bonelessly to the ground once she reached her destination. Her
fangs elongated immediately at the proximity to so much spilt blood, and she fed
hungrily for several long seconds.
The blood was revitalizing - she hadn't tasted that other Slayer - the one she'd
killed for her daddy - Spike had told her that they were yummy, but she'd had no
idea!
*NOW* - forcing herself away from the body, her eyes spotted the trickle of
blood that had dribbled into the mouth of hell, and at last she understood. It
wasn't too late, not yet.
Slashing her own wrist with her nails, she dragged herself towards the fissure
holding her arm out and watching as her blood pooled on the surface of her pale
skin only to slowly drip down into the dark depths of the earth. A smile crossed
her lips as she felt the powers rise, unleashing the beast. Maybe, things would
work out after all...
* * * * * * * * * *
LA:
Angel glanced around the bar with a frown, wondering how he'd gotten there.
Shaking his head he rose from the bar and headed to the door. Sunup was only a
few minutes away, but he recognized the bar - he'd be able to make it back to
the office in time.
Starting off, he passed by the alley next to the bar, catching a faint whiff of
blood as he did so. Pausing, he strode in and looked around, then backed away in
confusion as he stared down at the young woman lying on the ground. There were
no sounds of breathing, no heartbeat...
Snippets of memories returned in a jumbled flash, him getting up out of bed,
getting dressed, making his way here, dancing with her briefly then bringing her
out here and... and...
He shook his head. This couldn't be happening, how could he have possibly
done... *that*?
Backing out of the alley, he rushed back towards the office, his mind a whirl.
Something was very wrong - he hadn't felt this rush of guilt and emotion since
his soul had been restored...
He closed his eyes as he stopped mid-stride, no. It couldn't be. Angelus was
locked away safely. If the demon had gotten out, Angel was sure he would have
known.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he quickly hurried along again. He'd have to
talk to Wesley, maybe get the former Watcher to start watching him... there had
to be some kind of logical explanation to all of this...
End
