Here ya go guys sorry to keep ya waiting ;)
Next in the Shangri*La Series!
Enjoy!!!
 
 
TITLE: Charcoal Dreams
AUTHOR: Foxhunt2blue
RATING: PG-13/R
SUMMARY: Charcoal. That was the color of his 
dreams...his nightmares.
ARCHIVE: Please feel free to just let me know! :D
DISCLAIMER: Nope not mine! :( Wish they were
though!
FEEDBACK: One of the necessary food groups!
foxhunter2blue@yahoo.com or
Kitsunegari2001@aol.com
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one is for Anne Rose & Scott
who without their insistence this series would
have ended before it began. 
 
 
********************
Charcoal Dreams
********************
 
 
Silence is not always golden.
 
At least not when brought on by a case of
shock that outweighed any Giles had ever
had the pleasure of witnessing. From that
moment in the chapel when the words had
been spoken, when understanding had 
glazed over Spike's eyes, he had known there
would be hell to pay.
 
Called immediately the coven, had themselves,
been shocked by the revelation. It was unheard
of...in all of history...in all the writings that
had graced the pages of prophets.
 
A male slayer.
 
There had been days of debate as to what they
should do. Giles should have let them argue
amongst themselves, he should have turned 
his concerns to the man who had been a monster.
 
The man who was now lost within his own
mind. Refusing to acknowledge anything or
anyone other than Willow.
 
He would sit for hours near the grove where the
coven performed their ceremonies. Page after page
of scrawled thoughts that Giles had discovered
later was poetry. 
 
Willow would set next to him reading or at
times practicing her protection and control
exercises. The coven had decided that her
powers should not be bound, but that she 
should be taught to control them. They had
inducted her into their coven and her training
had taken up most of her time. At least what
time she did not invest in Spike.
 
William, he reminded himself.
 
Spike had been a pompous, aggravating demon
who had become more so after the Initiative
and their little experiments. William was the
man who had once existed before Drusilla had
infected him, made him a killer. Yet somewhere
within the back of his thoughts Giles knew that
he was neither and both.
 
Most evenings he would have to go in search 
of the odd couple. He would always find them
in the same place...the grove. Tonight was, yet
another in so many of those nights.
 
Above him the moon had risen, almost full,
bathing
the grove in a layer of molten silver. There was
no need for the lantern that dangled from his
fingers, he thought, as he made his way through
the thigh high grasses. The light of the moon lit
his path just as brightly as it would have had he
bothered to light it.
 
Pausing just at the edge of the grove he inhaled
letting the fresh scent of heather infuse him
with
a relaxed air. In the distance he could make out 
the vague sound of Willow singing, the words 
were indistinguishable, but the lyrical quality
of
her voice was undeniable. With a sigh Giles let
his eyes flicker skyward, then continued his 
journey forward.
 
She was wading in the stream.
 
Her jeans were rolled to her knees, her vibrant
red hair pulled up, pinned to the top of her
head. Soft tendrils had fallen around her face 
as she chased the tiny flickering lights of the
fireflies that glided on the light summer breeze.
 
William was stretched out along the bank of the
stream, a lantern next to him painting his
features in a faint spun gold. Tonight he wasn't
writing as he usually did, but was sketching on a
large spiral bound pad. His pale slim fingers
shadowed with charcoal dust he seemed lost in
thought, so lost he didn't notice the way the
charcoal smudged along his high boned cheek as he
swiped at the flickering wings of a tiny moth.
 
It was moments like this that Giles could almost
see the gentle soul he had once been. He silently
studied William noticing how the roots of his
hair had darkened softening the harsh white of
his bleached head. He wished with all his soul
that the young man would speak to him, let him
know what was going on behind those haunted
eyes.
 
"Willow," he deliberately softened his tone so as
not to startle the young woman.
 
Turning from her endeavors a soft smile spread
her lips wide as she met his eyes. Those so child
 
like, so beautiful were more common place as the
days passed and Giles was thankful for the few
there had been since arriving in Heatherton. He
refused to not appreciate them for what they
were.
 
"Giles! I'm sorry I had no idea it was this
late,"
laughter punctuated her words as she made her 
way to the bank.
 
Such a sweet sound.
 
Flopping down into the grass next to William
she reached out stilling his rapidly moving hands
with a gentle squeeze.
 
"Time to go," she whispered.
 
Glancing up, William's angular face softened as
she smiled. For a moment the only sound in the
grove was the soft croak of frogs. 
 
Nodding he quickly gathered his things, then
accepted Willow's proffered hand like a lost
child. Together the three of them started their
journey back to the cottage, to the life they
had created in this lonely place.
 
*****************************************
 
Charcoal.
 
That was the color of his dreams...his
nightmares.
 
Laying quietly on his back he listened to the
sounds that surrounded him.
 
Wind softly dancing through the tangled
vegetation
of the woods beyond the window. The faint call of
an owl or perhaps a night flying dove.
 
He shivered as the cool cotton sheet slid over
his naked flesh reminding him of Buffy. William
let his eyes drift shut as a perfect picture
formed in his mind, a picture of long slender
limbs tangled in cotton sheets.
 
<Why can't you accept it luv?>
 
Sitting up he slid from beneath the sheets, feet
thumping on the cool polished wood floor. Through
the window the fading moonlight danced across
dark wood and yellowed plaster to finally caress
his naked body.
 
Stopping at the window he looked skyward where
the cold light of stars flickered. He swallowed
hard as he thought of what Giles had told him.
 
A slayer.
 
It couldn't be.
 
"Buffy...," he whispered.
 
********************************************
 
Half way around the world Buffy Summers sat up in
bed a choked sob tearing through her throat.
 
"William...,"
 
Throwing back the sweat stained sheets she
slipped
from the bed. Across the room the faint summer
breeze lifted the sheer drapes. She drifted there
framed by the curtains the scent of the neighbors
orange trees surrounding her with a relaxing
sweetness.
 
Over her shoulder the bedside clock flashed a dim
ruby in the darkened room.
 
Ten.
 
Beyond the window the sky was still tinged with
twilight grey. She hadn't been asleep for more
than an hour.
 
Moving from the window she headed down the stairs
to the kitchen. From the living room she could
hear Dawn laughing and giggling with Missy. Missy
had just recently moved to Sunnydale from back
east. The two young girls had hit it off
immediately. Buffy was thankful that Dawn had
finally made a friend her own age.
 
Fingers gripping the top of the refrigerator door
she studied the meager contents with an air of
resignation.
 
At least she would have a decent paying job come
Monday, she thought. Giles had pulled some
strings with an old college friend and she was
now the personal assistant for the Professor of
Parapsychology at Sunnydale U. She had enough
experience with the supernatural to help her out
on this one.
 
Good-bye Burger Barn or what ever the hell it was
called.
 
With a faint sigh she grabbed the half empty
orange juice container, then retrieved the phone
from it's cradle on the kitchen wall. Behind her
a wave a laughter exploded as she made her way
back to her bedroom. She knew that she had
promised Giles she would only call in case of
an emergency, but...
 
**********************************************
 
Pulling on jeans he retrieved the sketchbook from
where it leaned against the wall.
 
Quietly William made his way down the stairs and
out into the overgrown garden. In the east the
sky was beginning to lighten to a dark lavender
edged with smudges of charcoal. Moving quickly
through the thick vegetation he stopped beneath
the overhanging branches of the apple tree in the
far corner of the garden.
 
On his knees he crept beneath the shadowed
overhang of thick green leaves, the darkness cool
against his bare skin. Once he was settled he
opened the the sketch book his pale fingers
tracing the dark smudges against the grainy
texture of the paper. Another sketch to add
to his growing collection.
 
Buffy.
 
Reaching over he pulled the lantern close, then
fumbled for the pack of matches in his pocket.
Soon the darkness of his secret place was filled
with a soft glow. It wasn't as though he needed
the light, he still possessed the sight of 
his former self. Even in the darkest night he
still could see every tiny detail.
 
He remembered her like this, he thought.
 
An ocean breeze lifting her hair back over her
shoulder in a wave of dark honey. 
 
It had been on one of those lonely dark nights
when the past came to haunt her. Perhaps it had
been Riley or Angel her thoughts were on as she
walked the beach, the waves washing over her bare
feet. 
 
It might have been her mother as well.
 
Joyce had only been gone a few short weeks that
night.
 
He had stayed hidden among the dunes watching her
as she stared skyward at the moon, almost full
above her. It's light had turned her into an
ivory scuplture, her features pale and slick with
silent tears.
 
It sometimes occurred to him that this had been
the precise moment when he had fallen in love
with her.
 
There was a part of him that had wanted to go to
her that night. To ease her pain, but he knew she
would only turn him away. As he turned to go he
sensed eyes on him and he had turned back to the
beach.
 
She was turned slightly from the ocean, her hair
a tangled mass dancing behind her and her eyes he
was sure were on him. She knew he was there
waiting and watching her in that private moment 
of grief. He should have went to her then, but he
hadn't.
 
Two weeks later she was dead.
 
His grief had been stronger than he thought 
possible as he struggled against the damage to
his preternatural body. They hadn't noticed...
after all he was a vampire.
 
A soulless demon.
 
There had been one other who had grieved as
much as he had, if not more. Dawn had found her 
way to his tomb later that night. For him that
first visit had been one of discomfort as he sat
listening to her choked tears, stroking her hair,
promising that everything would be okay.
 
He had come to look forward to her visits as they
both slowly accepted what Willow could not.
 
Stretching out on the dew speckled grass he
traced
each stroke of the charcoal. He missed her, but
he wasn't sure what she would do when she learned
what he was. Buffy had told him finally that she
loved him and now he was scared more than he ever
had been in his life. 
 
A single tear slid from beneath his lashes as he
let sleep overcome him.
 
*******************************************
 
Giles had just finished dressing when he heard
the muffled ring of his cell phone.
 
The only one who had the number was Buffy and
he had made her swear only to us it in case of 
emergency. Frantically he tore through the
dresser
draw finally answering it on the fifth ring.
 
"Buffy?"
 
"Hey, Giles."
 
"What is it Buffy? Is Dawn okay? Xander and
Anya?"
 
"I want to talk to him Giles."
 
Those few words sent a tickle down his spine. He
knew that he would have to face this eventually,
but it seemed to soon.
 
"Buffy...I don't...,"
 
"Giles I need to talk to him. I'm not asking...
I'm telling you. Don't give me any grief about
this Giles."
 
With a heavy sigh he rubbed his eyes, then spoke.
 
"Very well Buffy...,"
 
**********************************************
 
"Willow?"
 
Standing over the stove she flipped another
hotcake over as she glanced back over her
shoulder. "Here! Kitchen!"
 
Reaching for the bowl of batter she poured
another not so perfect puddle of batter in the
skillet. Behind her she could hear Giles mumbling
to himself as he stubbed his toe on one of the
chairs.
 
"Hope your hungry...I made hot cakes."
 
She almost dropped the plate when she saw the
cell phone he held tightly. "You have a phone?"
 
"Yes, but never mind that. Have you seen Spike?"
 
"Did you try his room?" It was annoying that he
had a phone and hadn't told her. She could have
called Buffy when she was feeling low.
 
"If he was there I don't believe I would be here
Willow."
 
"So where else could he be?" she flipped over the
hot cake wondering if maybe, she could convince
him to let her borrow the phone.
 
"Buffy wants to speak...," 
 
Giles never finished as Willow pounced on him,
grabbing the phone her eyes glittering with
happiness.
 
"Buffy?"
 
"Hey, Will how's it going in jolly old England?"
 
"Okay...I guess...but I miss you guys. Gee never
thought I would miss Sunnydale. So you want to
talk to William?"
 
A soft gush of air on the other end of the line
caused Willow's brow to knot.
 
"What's going on over there Willow? Giles calls
and asks me some questions about Spike, then he
gives me this number...tells me not to call
unless it's an emergency. I'm worried about him
Will...," Buffy's voice trailed off.
 
Turning on Giles she covered the mouth piece, her
voice a soft growl. "You didn't tell her?" her
eyes flashed with a hint of fire. "How could you
Giles?"
 
He shrugged his shoulders.
 
"I don't know if she's ready Willow. Spike isn't
even ready...look at him...withdrawn...lost in
his own world."
 
Willow stormed from the kitchen into the garden.
The last thing that Giles heard was her voice
trembling slightly.
 
"Buffy your never going to believe this...,"
 
**********************************************
 
He was back in Sunnydale.
 
Every last detail was so vivid.
 
The curl of the wrought iron bed with it's off
white glaze, the stripes in the wallpaper. A soft
whisper as the sheer lace drapes danced on the
summer breeze wafting through the open window.
 
Makeup scattered across the vanity table. Her
clothes just worn hours ago draped over the back
of the vanity's matching chair.
 
Only one thing was missing.
 
Color.
 
He sat on the edge of the bed wanting to touch
her and know she was real. It was a dream
though...only a dream in shades of grey.
 
A charcoal dream just like all the others.
 
He could almost smell her perfume, but it still
wasn't real, it was a dream. Watching her drink
straight from the juice container the same thing
that she had fussed at little bit for caused a
laugh to burble up in his throat.
 
<Spike?>
 
Stopping mid laugh he held his breath as she
dropped the phone she had been bracing against
one smooth shoulder. She sat up the look on her
face suddenly making him doubt if this was a
normal dream. Sitting still she scanned the room,
her eyes finally coming to rest in the exact spot
where he sat. 
 
Reaching out she lifted the phone and spoke into
the mouth piece.
 
<Yeah...Willow have you found him yet?>
 
Her eyes seemed to bore into his as she spoke the
 
next words.
 
<I think he's sleeping Willow.>
 
***********************************************
 
Willow never finished what she was about to say.
 
"I think he's sleeping Willow."
 
"What makes you think that Buffy?"
 
Willow was slowly meandering through the still
half dark garden looking for any sign of William.
When there was no answer forthcoming she stopped
in her tracks.
 
"Have you been having odd dreams?"
 
"Yeah...strange dreams in black and white."
 
Buffy let her mind drift through the oddities of
the past few weeks. Most of the dreams were of
Spike more often than not he was sitting on the
bank of a small stream. He would always have a
hard bound book filled with blank pages and he
would be scribbling across the faint blue lines.
 
His voice was there too.
 
<Along this lonely beach, 
I wander 
Within these stormy waters, 
I discover her eyes>
 
"He only talks to me Buffy. Giles has tried to
speak to him since...well since...,"
 
"What?"
 
"Giles discovered a prophecy in a Welsh
manuscript. It seems that the Watchers weren't as
smart as they thought."
 
"What was it?" Willow could hear the faint
tremble in her voice. "What did it say?"
 
"He...William...umm...Spike has been changed."
 
"I know that Willow, but what has he been changed
into?"
 
"He has become your other half. He's the first of
his kind."
 
"His kind?" Buffy choked out the words. "What
exactly does that mean...his kind?"
 
"I don't know if you'll believe it anymore than I
did. He's become a slayer." Willow paused at the
sharp intake of breath. Before she could say
anymore she heard a soft cry from the corner of
the garden.
 
Slowly she made her way to the apple tree where 
tiny flickers of movement caused the branches to 
sway.
 
"Spike?"
 
Kneeling she crept through the leaves, the sound
of Buffy's frantic voice rising faintly from the
phone in her jeans pocket. As she broke through
into the cave formed by the heavy boughs she
could hear his voice, a bare whisper.
 
"...i'm sorry...sorry i didn't want this...not
this,"
 
"Spike?"
 
He lay curled on his side, a rolled sheet of
paper
clutched in his hands. Even in the fading lamp
light Willow could make out the faint trails of
moisture along his cheeks. Lifting the phone to
her ear she stopped just short of his bare feet.
 
"Buffy I found him."
 
From the other end of the line she could hear the
soft sigh of relief.
 
"Let me talk to him Will."
 
With a scoot across the grass she leaned over,
then placed the phone next to his head. Willow
sighed as she ran her fingers through the tangled
silk of his hair.
 
"Talk to her William. She loves you...she'll
understand I promise."
 
His eyes fluttered open tracing up to meet her's,
then lowering to take in the phone in the grass.
 
"Talk...," she whispered.
 
Turning Willow left.
 
*********************************************
 
"Spike I know your there. I know that something
has happened...something that shouldn't have. We
will make it though. We'll make it together."
 
He reached out at the sound of her voice, soft
and
edged with tears. Slim fingers curling around the
 
cool plastic of the phone, he drew it up to his
ear.
 
"You were here in my room while you slept. I felt
you just like I was there while I slept. We're
connected by whatever this power is...whatever
you did in Africa doesn't matter. Why you did it
matters even less to me. Just talk to me Spike."
 
Swallowing back a ragged sob, he tried to calm
the beating of his heart. A heart that shouldn't
be beating, but was. A heart that had died long
ago in a filthy London alley only to be reborn in
a cavern at the twisted whim of a bastard demon.
 
"Spike...William...please talk to me."
 
He swallowed hard again feeling the ache in his
chest.
 
"Please...,"
 
"...buffy...God, Buffy. I'm sorry."
 
"Shhh...don't."
 
"I hurt you...I hurt your friends...they'll never
accept me. They'll never let me be with you."
 
"Fuck them."
 
At first he thought he had heard it wrong. That
he
had imagined the anger and the determination in
her soft tone.
 
"...buf...,"
 
"You heard me Spike. They didn't give a damn
about
what they did to me when they brought me back.
Now
Willow understands what she did was wrong and she
has paid dearly. A life for a life. They are far
from perfect, but I deserve to be happy and
they'll have to live with it."
 
A tiny smile flickered at the corner of his
mouth. She did talk the good talk and she bloody
well did it with class. Closing his eyes he saw
her again stretched out on her bed, nothing but
shades of grey. With one hand he tried to smooth
out the crumpled sketch.
 
"Are the dreams real?" he whispered.
 
Buffy sighed as if the weight of a thousand
nightmares had lifted from her shoulders. 
 
"Along this lonely beach, I wander. Within these
stormy waters, I discover her eyes...," her voice
was trembling as she spoke the words.
 
"I'm coming home luv...I'm coming home," Spike
whispered.
 
THE END