Chapter 4



“No.” The answer was simple and straight to the point. No. She wasn’t going back to that place and there was nothing that would otherwise change her mind. Going back would mean accepting what she was—a monster. Nothing about the way she had behaved that night was okay—nothing about it would ever be okay. She wouldn’t consent to dwell in a place that welcomed that kind of behaviour as common nature.

Spike frowned at her. “No?”

“What part of ‘no’ did you not understand?” she retorted snidely, turning her gaze away from his piercing blue eyes. They seemed to look straight through her and see past all the barriers she had erected around herself. It was unnerving in the worst possible way. Even after turning, she could feel them burning into her back, and she knew that if she were to form any kind of acquaintance with him that would not change. Spike appeared to be the type of person that saw the heart of things and not just the representation that was presented, no matter how hard you tried to hide.

“The part where you said ‘no’.” Confusion was waring with his patience and Buffy could hear the slip of control in his voice. He took a deep breath and let it out with a rush as he tried to calm himself down again enough to talk to her without raising his voice. “You have to come back, pet, you belong with your own kind.”

The rage that bubbled up inside her was unpreventable. Suddenly, all of the emotions she had been trying so badly to repress seemed to burst loose inside her. The anger over what was done to her, the pain of knowing she would never again be able to go out into the light, the fear she held of what was in her future, what was to come. They all rushed to the surface and suddenly she couldn’t hold it in anymore—she didn’t want to.

Buffy’s voice broke on a sob as she shot up out of her seat to stare down at Spike. Her hands were shaking with emotion, and she found it hard to look him in the eye. “Penn is not my own kind!”

There was a long pause as she spun away from him and buried her head in her hands.

“He is, pet.” His voice was soft and calm as he took her hand and pulled her gently back down onto the sofa. “We’re not all like that, you know—Penn wasn’t always like that. What he did was in no way excusable, and he will pay for it with his life, but just because there is a monster inside you doesn’t mean you have to be one. There is the potential for good and bad within everyone, even vampires. The only difference is your hold over the bad will just have to be a little more firm that it would have been if you had remained human. You will learn to control the demon in time, Buffy.”

Buffy sniffled and wiped her eyes. Damn him and his logic. He was right—she knew that to some degree—had she been all evil upon her awakening then she likely wouldn’t haven been so upset now. But it was hard for her to come to terms with the fact that she now held the capacity for so much evil—evil which some part deep inside of her craved to let loose.

It was as if there were two parts of her both raging against the other. She could feel the internal battle—it had been waring quietly within her head since she had risen—but already she could feel her human side had some measure of control and the though calmed her somewhat.

She looked across at the blond vampire sitting beside her and gave him a small smile. “Do I really have to go back?”

“You really do,” Spike replied, as he returned her smile with a larger one of his own. “You can’t expect it to be easy adjusting—because it won’t be—but you’ll have people around you who will be able to help, pet.”

“It’s just…” she sighed and looked past him towards the window. The curtains were still taped closed but there was no longer a patch of light on the wall. “I’m never going to be able to do some of the things I’ve dreamt of my whole life.”

“Letting go is hard, but if you ever want a chance at being happy again you do it. New dreams will come along even, things you might never have been able to do otherwise.”

Buffy looked back at him. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

He gave her a bittersweet smile. “Some of us—the older ones—we were victims once too”

The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of meaning from his words. He had been a victim, a man who hadn’t chosen the path of vampirism and likely understood what she was going through better than she did. It brought a new element to the man sitting before her. Despite his elevated status as a master vampire, they suddenly seemed to be on the same level. She was able to look at him and see a glimpse of the man he was, just as he had been able to see right through her earlier with just one look.

She took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Who’s going to…Mr. Giles, the man from the Human Demon Relations Office, he said I would be appointed a new sire?”

Spike nodded and took the question in stride, seeing it for what it really was—her consent to return with him to the mansion. “The position will probably go to Angelus. You may have noticed him tonight: tall, dark, stupid hair that sticks up everywhere and a big forehead? Broody sort of fellow?”

Buffy couldn’t help the giggle the escaped her lips at Spike’s description of the vampire. The way he was describing Angelus sounded positively ridiculous. She was certain she had seen no one of the like in her short visit to the mansion or would have recognised him from the description she had been provided, given the chance.

“He’s my, Dru and—more importantly—Penn’s sire, so I’m guessing the job will go to him,” Spike said with a smile, glad that he had at least gotten a giggle out of the forlorn vampiress.

“So that will make me like… your sister?”

Spike snorted. “In human terms, I guess, but vampires don’t really work that way, sweetheart. You’ll understand more later. You ready to get going?” Spike smiled and pulled Buffy to her feet without waiting for an answer.


*****


The mansion seemed more foreboding the second time around. It might have been because Buffy knew what it housed behind its doors, or because of the long shadows it cast across the gardens surrounding the house—but the night seemed darker than it had on her first arrival. Even without the prospect of meeting her fate, the butterflies that seemed to be becoming a permanent fixture in her stomach were more than making themselves known.

Spike gave her a reassuring smile. “I can feel your nerves, pet. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“What do you mean you can feel me? Why can’t I feel you?” Buffy’s eyes went wide before slamming shut the moment the words had left her mouth. Oh, God! Please don’t say anything, please don’t…

Spike chuckled. “If you wanted to feel me, pet, all you had to do was ask.”

Buffy could feel her cold body heating up at his words. Mortification was rolling off her in waves as she sunk deeper into her seat as Spike guided the car back through the gates to the mansion. I can’t look at him. I’m never opening my mouth again.

“We’re here, pet.” The tone of the amusement was still evident in his voice as he killed the car’s engine and got out.

The second the driver’s side door was closed, Buffy buried her face in her hands and moaned out in embarrassment. “Why me?”

Buffy turned to open her door and pulled back in surprise when it opened for her. She looked up to see a smirking Spike staring down at her, his eyes telling her he knew exactly what she had been thinking as he helped her out of the car. She gave him an embarrassed smile as he closed the door behind her and took her hand. “Ready?”

She bit her lip and looked up at the house. Was she?

Not waiting for a response, Spike tugged her arm gently. “Come one, love, I’ll take you back inside.”

Buffy followed helplessly as he guided her back up the stone steps that led to the front door. It opened as they neared it and Spike pulled the keys to the car out of his pocket and dropped them in the hands of the vampire holding the door open. “Thanks, mate.”

Once again Buffy felt her breath hitch at the splendour of the house. She looked around at the gothic paintings and sculptures that littered the halls, all adding to its sinister beauty. One painting in particular caught her eye and she couldn’t help but take a small step closer to it. It was frighteningly beautiful and chilling all at once—captivating all the same.

The painting was of a young woman with long flowing brown hair, curly and reaching to her waist in length. She was being held from behind by a man in a stereotypical vampire pose—one arm tightly banded around her waist pulling her back tightly up against his chest, and the other hand buried in amongst her hair holding her head to the side. The man’s face was buried in the woman’s neck, thin rivulets of blood running from the place where his mouth met her neck. There was such a mixture of both pain and pleasure in her face that it was hard to tell which one she was feeling if you studied it for too long. One of the woman’s hands was lifted to the vampire’s head and was gripping his hair—you couldn’t tell if she was trying to push him away or pull him closer—the other hung limply at her side.

“Oh my God.” The statement left her mouth on a breath barely above a whisper, yet still managing to capture Spike’s attention.

He watched Buffy as she stared transfixed by the painting, seemingly stuck between awe and horror. “It’s a painting of the turning of Simone. She was the head of the Aurelius clan before the Master. It’s tradition to have their turnings depicted in paintings once they have passed on their reign.”

At the sound of his voice, Buffy turned towards Spike before her gaze was once more drawn back to the painting. “It’s, um…she’s beautiful. Who was the vampire that turned her?”

“She wasn’t of pure Aurelian blood. Her sire wasn’t from the clan, but that’s all we know. My history is a little sketchy, pet, but I think she was mated to the Master’s sire.”

Buffy frowned. “Oh.”

She didn’t understand how Simone could come to be the leader of a clan—especially the Aurelian clan—if she wasn’t of pure blood, unless it was by default at the death of her mate. But after what Spike had told her about Penn, she wasn’t sure that theory could be considered entirely plausible. Penn had lasted longer than most after his mate’s death. She couldn’t see Simone lasting long enough to become ruler of the clan.

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room. The sun will be up soon.” Spike’s voice brought her back to the present. He was lightly tugging on her arm to pull her away from the painting.

Buffy’s eyes left it reluctantly as Spike manoeuvred her away from the painting and towards a marble staircase. A chill ran down her spine as she turned her back to the painting. She felt uncomfortable leaving herself exposed to its moving eyes. Something about it had set her on edge again when she had been beginning to feel the beginnings of calm after days of turmoil. She had a feeling that the impromptu history lesson wouldn’t be the last she heard of Simone.