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Chapter 01
Chapter 01
‘I've watched all your suffering
as the battles raged higher
and though they did hurt me so bad
in the fear and alarm
you did not desert me
my brothers in arms’
- “brothers in arms” by dire straits
The neon light stung her eyes, and it definitely wasn’t good for her complexion. The muscles in her shoulders and back were already forming all sorts of kinks and aches due to the cramped position she was in.
Her wrists and ankles were shackled to the chair she sat on. A solid piece of titanium. An admirable piece of craftsmanship, no doubt, but right now it was a pain in her ass.
These vampires knew how to handle a Slayer; ever since the Awakening they had certainly had enough target practice. There was a downside to everything.
*
They had stripped her off her weapons; they had even taken the cross from her neck. Her communication device lay behind her on the table, taunting her with its one-way, unanswered, request to copy her latest position.
All it would take her was to push the little button on the earpiece. Her backup should be able to locate her via GPS even without her personal response. At least that was what Willow had told her; all this tech stuff confused her.
*
An hour ago, Buffy had been captured by one of the most powerful vampire gangs in town. What had been planned as an observation mission had turned into an ugly fight, resulting in Buffy being taken hostage.
A couple of years ago, the Slayer had been the average bloodsucker’s nightmare. Now, with all the girls being Chosen, evil had upgraded its scheme. During the last few years, several Slayers had been captured and turned into vampires. The casualties of those fights hadn’t been pretty.
And now they had Buffy. Better yet, Kaileq had Buffy, one of The vampire lords around. If he got the chance to turn her, combining her strength with his... holy power-palooza. One more reason – besides the obvious wish not to die (again) – for her backup team to hurry up.
*
From what she’d learned, Kaileq was currently out of town but they expected him to back later tonight. If they didn’t get to her in time, she needed a plan B.
Buffy jerked at the shackles. The titanium scratched her skin. And that was it. They didn’t budge at all. Apparently, the vampires had done their homework.
Behind the door in her back, Buffy heard the rattle of keys, then bolts sliding back. They had brought her to what seemed like your average cop-show interrogation room; the one-way mirror in front of her revealed nothing when the door opened. Vampire.
“Room service, finally.“ She beamed her at the missing reflection.
“I’ve always wished for the other Slayers to be more like you.“ Kaileq’s voice was a low, almost sultry rumble. “The humor, the body.“ He stepped into her line of vision. They had faced each other more than once in the past, and he almost treated her with respect. Now, he laid a hand on her shoulder, the other on her knee, and leaned down to her, getting right into her face. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.“
“One more word, fang-face, and this is going to do down as sexual harassment.“ Buffy’s voice was calm, almost polite. She even smiled. All right, so her quips had been better in the past but that was the least of her concerns right now.
Kaileq chuckled, baring his fangs; the yellow of his eyes seemed to glow. “From what I’ve heard, you have a thing for vampires.”
Buffy snorted a laugh. “Please, vampires are so yesterday. ‘Sides, they were both way prettier than you.”
The shadow of a pout flickered over the vampire’s face before he regained his composure. “You have a big mouth. I think you underestimate the situation you’re in.”
“I think I got it just right. You’re the big bad vampire, I’m the helpless little Slayer. You’re going to turn me so I can be your pet.”
“That pretty much sums it up.” If Kaileq was disappointed that Buffy had figured out his master plan, he didn’t show it.
“You just forgot one little thing, Kaileq. Even if you get the chance to turn me, I’ll still have the bigger balls.”
The vampire’s hand closed over Buffy’s throat, cutting off her air. “First thing, I’ll do when you’re mine… I’ll cut your sharp little tongue out.” His fingers dug into her neck. “On second thought, I might do that just now.”
“… kill… you,” Buffy croaked, her face turning an unhealthy shade of red.
“You? Kill me?” Kaileq laughed a throaty little laugh. “You and what army?”
*
Glass shattered.
Gunshots barked, echoing impossibly loudly in the small confines of the room.
The lights flickered out, dipping the room in darkness until the security lights winked to a sickly green life.
Kaileq had staggered back from Buffy, and the Slayer gasped for air. She had closed her eyes instinctively, turning her face away from the sudden, yet unknown threat.
“That would be my cue, wouldn’t it?”
Buffy’s blood froze. Her entire body froze. She stopped breathing. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, every single one of her Slayer senses sprang to life.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
Time seemed to have frozen around her as well. Slowly, as if dipped in tar, she turned her head, opening her eyes.
He stood there in all his glory amidst a pile of broken glass. He had gained some more muscle since…then but was still all lean and wiry. His clothes were all black; black combat boots, cargo pants, long-sleeved shirt, and what looked like a Kevlar vest.
His features were still as sharp as she remembered, as were his eyes. Everything about him was the same except that he’d shaved his hair to a quarter of an inch shadow.
But then, that was the fun thing about vampires, wasn’t it? From the point they died as a human, they didn’t change a bit. Until they died (again), then it was a whole different deal. Or was it?
“Spike?” Buffy’s voice was hushed with utter disbelieve. She cocked her head to one side, staring at him. “What happened to your hair?”
His trademark smirk appeared on his lips, and his eyes sparkled. “It’s good to see you, too, luv. Mind if we get the bleedin’ hell outta here?”
With a furious roar, Kaileq drew Buffy’s attention back to the more urgent matter at hand. More urgent than trying to figure out how the hell it was possible that Spike had come back from the dearly departed.
The vampire roared again, rising to his full height. “Who the hell are you?”
Not favoring his opponent with an answer, Spike raised the weapon he was holding, and aimed it at Kaileq. The gun looked like any other semi-automatic weapon but when it barked twice, Kaileq howled in more pain than any bullet would have caused.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder to see that the vampire was pressing a hand to his chest. His fingertips and the part of his chest where the bullet had hit were smoldering, smoke curling from between his fingers.
“This is taking too long,” Spike murmured to himself, aiming at Kaileq’s head.
This time the bullet hit him square between the eyes. With a howl of pain and fury, the vampire exploded into a cloud of ashes.
Without hesitation, Spike let the weapon slide into the holster strapped to his left thigh. He stepped around the chair, prying the bolts out of the shackles.
Finally, Buffy snapped out of her daze when she felt his hands brush against her arms. “Spike? Are you…am I dreaming? Hallucinating? What is going on? Are you real?” She had no idea what she was saying.
She heard him chuckle behind her. “Undead and kicking. Now, can we discuss this later? I’m being heroic here.”
That being said, Buffy felt the shackles click open and her arms came free. Not losing a beat, the Slayer went right for the shackles at her ankles.
When she rose out of her cramped position, her muscles protested against the sudden flexibility. She ignored it.
“I believe this is yours?” Spike reached behind him, pulling a wooded stake from his belt, holding it out to her.
“Mr. Pointy the Third.” Buffy snatched the stake from his hand, her eyes gleaming.
She still had no idea what was going on. Maybe she was already dead (again) and going through some pre-vampirism delirium. Her rational mind told her that it wasn’t possible that Spike was there. He was dead. She’d seen him dying. First hand. He couldn’t possibly be freeing her from Kaileq’s hands. But no matter if this was real or not, she really wanted to kick some vampires’ asses.
“Let’s hunt some vamps.” A dangerous flicker brightened her features before she whipped around, grabbed her communication device from the table and left the room.
*
The place was crawling with Slayers. Well, not exactly crawling but there were at least a dozen of them. Some of them were from the first generation of Awakened Slayers, meaning they were among the first to be Chosen by the spell Willow had cast back in Sunnydale. Opposing them were about two or three dozen vampires.
“What?” Buffy almost pouted. “They didn’t leave me any?”
And then the fight was on.
*
Kaileq had set up his headquarters in a palace of steel and glass. During daytime the place must have been flooded with sunlight, forcing the vampires to stay in the depth of the building. So much for the irony.
Now that night had fallen, everything was illuminated by hundreds of halogen lights. Railings, stairs and galleries lined each side of the main room: a huge open space with a gleaming marble floor.
There was absolutly no rational explanation as to why a vampire and his goons would choose a place like this to stay but then, since when did anything that had happened in the last couple of minutes make any sense whatsoever?
Buffy grabbed the first vampire at hand (Spike not included) and landed a heavy jab against its chest. He reeled backwards but couldn’t put enough space between him and the Slayer. In a flash, she was on him, pummeling away at him before piercing his heart with Mr Pointy the Third.
“I so needed that.” She brushed the hair from her face, a triumphant grin forming on her features.
She turned back towards Spike. Although all around them, young women were trying to get the upper hand against the vampires, he stood there, leaning against the railing, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had the strangest expression on his face.
He eyed her almost curiously, studying her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. Which, for itself, was true; and yet still… a chill ran down her spine when their eyes met.
People always say that the moment you die, you see your life flash in front of your eyes. Buffy had died twice and she’d never re-lived anything. Now that she was facing the vampire she had thought to be dead for a decade, she was. Compressed to the size and force of a blow to the head, it hit her. Everything.
Everything they had ever been through; the bad and the worse and the few good moments in between flooded her memories. For the second time tonight, everything around her froze. And then she knew. She knew that he was real, that he was back from the dead, that she wasn’t dreaming the same dream she’d had over and over again during the last ten years.
She had no idea if or how this was possible. And right now, she didn’t care. She would need to consult with Willow and Giles on that later. But right now… she was happy. Confused as hell but happy.
“You do realise that this is a rescue, right?” he interrupted her thoughts. “Now would if you be so kind and actually try to get the hell out of here, you can do the staring later.” With that, Spike grabbed her arm, pulling her along down the gallery and towards a flight of stairs that lead down to the lobby.
*
They had trained the Slayers well. Despite their common source, none of them had the same amount of power. Some were better in martial arts; other would make a sniper look like an amateur. Over the last couple of years, Buffy and the rest of the newly formed Slayer’s Council had tried to let each one of them develop their own kind of skill. And in fights like this, they saw the pay off.
By the time Buffy and Spike exited the building, the vampires had been reduced to ashes. Amongst the Slayer squad there were only minor damages: a few cracked ribs, one broken nose and some bloodied hands. Kaileq might have been powerful but somehow Buffy doubted by now that his power meant physical strength.
*
Buffy drew in a deep breath when she pushed the front door open. The temperature had fallen since the vampires had taken her, and in her almost flimsy top, a chill ran down her spine and arms.
Her communication device had miraculously survived all the beating and the kicking, and the Slayer plugged it to her ear. It took the headquarters less than ten seconds to respond when she finally pushed the button.
“Hey, it’s Buffy. Thanks for the back up, was about time. Yes, we are all alright. No casualties. Yeah, we’re coming back in. See you in a few.”
On the far side of the road, four headlights came to life, and two black vans pulled up to the curb in front of the building. “Ladies, saddle up. Let’s get back to HQ.” On her command, the girls got into the vans, those with injuries were helped by the others.
One van had already pulled away; the other one was waiting for her to get into the passenger seat. She hesitated, busying herself with brushing vampire dust off her clothes. She knew she had to ask a question.
Once more, she drew in a breath then turned to Spike who was just securing his weapon in its holster. Her heart skipped a tiny beat when she looked at him. Something in her mind still told her that this couldn’t be real, that Kaileq had already bitten her and she was hallucinating. The other part knew that it was very real. Unbelievable but still real.
“You coming along?” she asked after almost a minute. The words felt weirdly heavy on her tongue.
“Got my bike just around the corner. I’ll catch up with you at HQ.” He sounded business-like, almost cold. And with that, he left her standing there, heading down the few steps to the sidewalk and around the corner of the building.
Buffy stared after him in utter disbelieve. If it was even possible, she was in even more disbelief. What the hell was going on here?
***
as the battles raged higher
and though they did hurt me so bad
in the fear and alarm
you did not desert me
my brothers in arms’
- “brothers in arms” by dire straits
The neon light stung her eyes, and it definitely wasn’t good for her complexion. The muscles in her shoulders and back were already forming all sorts of kinks and aches due to the cramped position she was in.
Her wrists and ankles were shackled to the chair she sat on. A solid piece of titanium. An admirable piece of craftsmanship, no doubt, but right now it was a pain in her ass.
These vampires knew how to handle a Slayer; ever since the Awakening they had certainly had enough target practice. There was a downside to everything.
*
They had stripped her off her weapons; they had even taken the cross from her neck. Her communication device lay behind her on the table, taunting her with its one-way, unanswered, request to copy her latest position.
All it would take her was to push the little button on the earpiece. Her backup should be able to locate her via GPS even without her personal response. At least that was what Willow had told her; all this tech stuff confused her.
*
An hour ago, Buffy had been captured by one of the most powerful vampire gangs in town. What had been planned as an observation mission had turned into an ugly fight, resulting in Buffy being taken hostage.
A couple of years ago, the Slayer had been the average bloodsucker’s nightmare. Now, with all the girls being Chosen, evil had upgraded its scheme. During the last few years, several Slayers had been captured and turned into vampires. The casualties of those fights hadn’t been pretty.
And now they had Buffy. Better yet, Kaileq had Buffy, one of The vampire lords around. If he got the chance to turn her, combining her strength with his... holy power-palooza. One more reason – besides the obvious wish not to die (again) – for her backup team to hurry up.
*
From what she’d learned, Kaileq was currently out of town but they expected him to back later tonight. If they didn’t get to her in time, she needed a plan B.
Buffy jerked at the shackles. The titanium scratched her skin. And that was it. They didn’t budge at all. Apparently, the vampires had done their homework.
Behind the door in her back, Buffy heard the rattle of keys, then bolts sliding back. They had brought her to what seemed like your average cop-show interrogation room; the one-way mirror in front of her revealed nothing when the door opened. Vampire.
“Room service, finally.“ She beamed her at the missing reflection.
“I’ve always wished for the other Slayers to be more like you.“ Kaileq’s voice was a low, almost sultry rumble. “The humor, the body.“ He stepped into her line of vision. They had faced each other more than once in the past, and he almost treated her with respect. Now, he laid a hand on her shoulder, the other on her knee, and leaned down to her, getting right into her face. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.“
“One more word, fang-face, and this is going to do down as sexual harassment.“ Buffy’s voice was calm, almost polite. She even smiled. All right, so her quips had been better in the past but that was the least of her concerns right now.
Kaileq chuckled, baring his fangs; the yellow of his eyes seemed to glow. “From what I’ve heard, you have a thing for vampires.”
Buffy snorted a laugh. “Please, vampires are so yesterday. ‘Sides, they were both way prettier than you.”
The shadow of a pout flickered over the vampire’s face before he regained his composure. “You have a big mouth. I think you underestimate the situation you’re in.”
“I think I got it just right. You’re the big bad vampire, I’m the helpless little Slayer. You’re going to turn me so I can be your pet.”
“That pretty much sums it up.” If Kaileq was disappointed that Buffy had figured out his master plan, he didn’t show it.
“You just forgot one little thing, Kaileq. Even if you get the chance to turn me, I’ll still have the bigger balls.”
The vampire’s hand closed over Buffy’s throat, cutting off her air. “First thing, I’ll do when you’re mine… I’ll cut your sharp little tongue out.” His fingers dug into her neck. “On second thought, I might do that just now.”
“… kill… you,” Buffy croaked, her face turning an unhealthy shade of red.
“You? Kill me?” Kaileq laughed a throaty little laugh. “You and what army?”
*
Glass shattered.
Gunshots barked, echoing impossibly loudly in the small confines of the room.
The lights flickered out, dipping the room in darkness until the security lights winked to a sickly green life.
Kaileq had staggered back from Buffy, and the Slayer gasped for air. She had closed her eyes instinctively, turning her face away from the sudden, yet unknown threat.
“That would be my cue, wouldn’t it?”
Buffy’s blood froze. Her entire body froze. She stopped breathing. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, every single one of her Slayer senses sprang to life.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
Time seemed to have frozen around her as well. Slowly, as if dipped in tar, she turned her head, opening her eyes.
He stood there in all his glory amidst a pile of broken glass. He had gained some more muscle since…then but was still all lean and wiry. His clothes were all black; black combat boots, cargo pants, long-sleeved shirt, and what looked like a Kevlar vest.
His features were still as sharp as she remembered, as were his eyes. Everything about him was the same except that he’d shaved his hair to a quarter of an inch shadow.
But then, that was the fun thing about vampires, wasn’t it? From the point they died as a human, they didn’t change a bit. Until they died (again), then it was a whole different deal. Or was it?
“Spike?” Buffy’s voice was hushed with utter disbelieve. She cocked her head to one side, staring at him. “What happened to your hair?”
His trademark smirk appeared on his lips, and his eyes sparkled. “It’s good to see you, too, luv. Mind if we get the bleedin’ hell outta here?”
With a furious roar, Kaileq drew Buffy’s attention back to the more urgent matter at hand. More urgent than trying to figure out how the hell it was possible that Spike had come back from the dearly departed.
The vampire roared again, rising to his full height. “Who the hell are you?”
Not favoring his opponent with an answer, Spike raised the weapon he was holding, and aimed it at Kaileq. The gun looked like any other semi-automatic weapon but when it barked twice, Kaileq howled in more pain than any bullet would have caused.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder to see that the vampire was pressing a hand to his chest. His fingertips and the part of his chest where the bullet had hit were smoldering, smoke curling from between his fingers.
“This is taking too long,” Spike murmured to himself, aiming at Kaileq’s head.
This time the bullet hit him square between the eyes. With a howl of pain and fury, the vampire exploded into a cloud of ashes.
Without hesitation, Spike let the weapon slide into the holster strapped to his left thigh. He stepped around the chair, prying the bolts out of the shackles.
Finally, Buffy snapped out of her daze when she felt his hands brush against her arms. “Spike? Are you…am I dreaming? Hallucinating? What is going on? Are you real?” She had no idea what she was saying.
She heard him chuckle behind her. “Undead and kicking. Now, can we discuss this later? I’m being heroic here.”
That being said, Buffy felt the shackles click open and her arms came free. Not losing a beat, the Slayer went right for the shackles at her ankles.
When she rose out of her cramped position, her muscles protested against the sudden flexibility. She ignored it.
“I believe this is yours?” Spike reached behind him, pulling a wooded stake from his belt, holding it out to her.
“Mr. Pointy the Third.” Buffy snatched the stake from his hand, her eyes gleaming.
She still had no idea what was going on. Maybe she was already dead (again) and going through some pre-vampirism delirium. Her rational mind told her that it wasn’t possible that Spike was there. He was dead. She’d seen him dying. First hand. He couldn’t possibly be freeing her from Kaileq’s hands. But no matter if this was real or not, she really wanted to kick some vampires’ asses.
“Let’s hunt some vamps.” A dangerous flicker brightened her features before she whipped around, grabbed her communication device from the table and left the room.
*
The place was crawling with Slayers. Well, not exactly crawling but there were at least a dozen of them. Some of them were from the first generation of Awakened Slayers, meaning they were among the first to be Chosen by the spell Willow had cast back in Sunnydale. Opposing them were about two or three dozen vampires.
“What?” Buffy almost pouted. “They didn’t leave me any?”
And then the fight was on.
*
Kaileq had set up his headquarters in a palace of steel and glass. During daytime the place must have been flooded with sunlight, forcing the vampires to stay in the depth of the building. So much for the irony.
Now that night had fallen, everything was illuminated by hundreds of halogen lights. Railings, stairs and galleries lined each side of the main room: a huge open space with a gleaming marble floor.
There was absolutly no rational explanation as to why a vampire and his goons would choose a place like this to stay but then, since when did anything that had happened in the last couple of minutes make any sense whatsoever?
Buffy grabbed the first vampire at hand (Spike not included) and landed a heavy jab against its chest. He reeled backwards but couldn’t put enough space between him and the Slayer. In a flash, she was on him, pummeling away at him before piercing his heart with Mr Pointy the Third.
“I so needed that.” She brushed the hair from her face, a triumphant grin forming on her features.
She turned back towards Spike. Although all around them, young women were trying to get the upper hand against the vampires, he stood there, leaning against the railing, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had the strangest expression on his face.
He eyed her almost curiously, studying her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. Which, for itself, was true; and yet still… a chill ran down her spine when their eyes met.
People always say that the moment you die, you see your life flash in front of your eyes. Buffy had died twice and she’d never re-lived anything. Now that she was facing the vampire she had thought to be dead for a decade, she was. Compressed to the size and force of a blow to the head, it hit her. Everything.
Everything they had ever been through; the bad and the worse and the few good moments in between flooded her memories. For the second time tonight, everything around her froze. And then she knew. She knew that he was real, that he was back from the dead, that she wasn’t dreaming the same dream she’d had over and over again during the last ten years.
She had no idea if or how this was possible. And right now, she didn’t care. She would need to consult with Willow and Giles on that later. But right now… she was happy. Confused as hell but happy.
“You do realise that this is a rescue, right?” he interrupted her thoughts. “Now would if you be so kind and actually try to get the hell out of here, you can do the staring later.” With that, Spike grabbed her arm, pulling her along down the gallery and towards a flight of stairs that lead down to the lobby.
*
They had trained the Slayers well. Despite their common source, none of them had the same amount of power. Some were better in martial arts; other would make a sniper look like an amateur. Over the last couple of years, Buffy and the rest of the newly formed Slayer’s Council had tried to let each one of them develop their own kind of skill. And in fights like this, they saw the pay off.
By the time Buffy and Spike exited the building, the vampires had been reduced to ashes. Amongst the Slayer squad there were only minor damages: a few cracked ribs, one broken nose and some bloodied hands. Kaileq might have been powerful but somehow Buffy doubted by now that his power meant physical strength.
*
Buffy drew in a deep breath when she pushed the front door open. The temperature had fallen since the vampires had taken her, and in her almost flimsy top, a chill ran down her spine and arms.
Her communication device had miraculously survived all the beating and the kicking, and the Slayer plugged it to her ear. It took the headquarters less than ten seconds to respond when she finally pushed the button.
“Hey, it’s Buffy. Thanks for the back up, was about time. Yes, we are all alright. No casualties. Yeah, we’re coming back in. See you in a few.”
On the far side of the road, four headlights came to life, and two black vans pulled up to the curb in front of the building. “Ladies, saddle up. Let’s get back to HQ.” On her command, the girls got into the vans, those with injuries were helped by the others.
One van had already pulled away; the other one was waiting for her to get into the passenger seat. She hesitated, busying herself with brushing vampire dust off her clothes. She knew she had to ask a question.
Once more, she drew in a breath then turned to Spike who was just securing his weapon in its holster. Her heart skipped a tiny beat when she looked at him. Something in her mind still told her that this couldn’t be real, that Kaileq had already bitten her and she was hallucinating. The other part knew that it was very real. Unbelievable but still real.
“You coming along?” she asked after almost a minute. The words felt weirdly heavy on her tongue.
“Got my bike just around the corner. I’ll catch up with you at HQ.” He sounded business-like, almost cold. And with that, he left her standing there, heading down the few steps to the sidewalk and around the corner of the building.
Buffy stared after him in utter disbelieve. If it was even possible, she was in even more disbelief. What the hell was going on here?
***
Chapter 02
Chapter 02
’all the late night bargains have been struck
between the satin beaus and their belles’
- “your latest trick” by dire straits
Buffy leaned her head against the cool window of the van when they hit the road. Headquarters was only twenty minutes away from the Kaileq’s former hideout but the ride still seemed like an eternity.
Questions upon questions had already started piling up inside her head, and the more she tried to think of possible answers, the more questions popped up.
She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. She never had been, and she had no problem admitting it. She didn’t have the book smarts. Her intelligence was that of a fighter, of a warrior, of a Slayer in the strictest sense.
In her almost twenty year “career” she’d come across a lot of stuff, a LOT of stuff. Prophecies, myths, artifacts with all sorts of power. She’s died twice, once brought back by CPR, once by magic. Even if her death hadn’t been final, she’d always believed that a pile of ash at the bottom of a gigantic crater was the end for a vampire. It had been for a couple of hundred ubervamps back in the days.
Which brought the big honking question back to mind.
How did Spike come back from the dead?
*
The car pulled into the parking garage of the old boarding school.
The Slayer’s Council had collected a respectable amount of money over the last couple of years, the ‘how’ and ‘where’ unknown to Buffy. All she knew – and wanted to know – was that she and her branch of the Council now occupied an old boarding school.
It was a fairly convenient place to stay. Lots of rooms – more specifically bathrooms – for the girls, classrooms for theory classes and training room for, well, training. Sometimes this whole operation seemed like one big field trip but those were rare moments. Mostly, it was like this. Returning back to HQ with wounded Slayers, recounting the events, trying to figure out the greater scheme and whatnot.
When the car came to a halt, Buffy was the first to jump out, crossing the parking garage in brisk strides. She needed to speak to Giles ASAP. Taking the stairs three steps at a time, she made it to the third floor in less than half a minute.
*
She found Andrew in the computer central where he was hacking away at a laptop that showed a map of the city.
“Andrew, set me up a video feed with Giles.” The little guy turned towards her, his eyes wide. If a lot about him had changed over the years, his close-to-fear respect for Buffy was still a valuable asset.
“Buffy, you’re back. Hi. How did it go?” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Perfect. Now set me up that video feed, please.”
“Sure, coming right up.” Andrew gave his chair a push, rolling it halfway across the room to another computer. “So, did the rescue squad arrive in time?”
“In the nick of, yeah. Is it possible to make this any faster?” Buffy shifted impatiently from one leg to the other, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“I’m working on it. There is still the time difference. He might not pick up.”
“He always picks up.”
“Why is so important? Did you learn anything interesting at Kaileq’s place?”
“You might say that.”
“Yeah, what is it?” he asked, shifting squeamishly on his chair.
Buffy eyed him suspiciously. Something wasn’t right. Andrew was always sort of twitchy but his behavior was more than… well, suspicious. And then something struck her that she hadn’t thought about before. Despite the fact that she still had to figure how it was possible to raise a dead vampire…How had Spike even known where she was? For all she knew he was still the same guy she’d seen going up in flames ten years ago sans any precognitive abilities.
“You know, don’t you?” she said. It wasn’t a question. “You know that Spike is back. You sent him after me with the back up.”
Andrew’s hands froze, hovering over the keyboard. He swallowed, the gulping sound almost echoing in the silence of the room. “Yeah? I… I might have.”
“What do you mean, you might have? You did do it, didn’t you? How long have you known?” Buffy stepped up him, leaning down on the table to get right into his face.
Andrew seemed to shrink on his chair. He became very pale. “I… ten… ten years.”
“What?”
In that moment, the computer in front of Andrew beeped and a window popped up, showing a sleep-deranged Giles in a plaid bathrobe.
“Good morning, Buffy. Andrew. What can I do for you?” Even at whatever time it was in London now, Giles remained as polite as always.
Buffy stepped back from Andrew who gave his chair another slight push to get away from the aggravated Slayer. “Spike is back. He has been for ten years. And Andrew knew about it.” She propped her hands on her hips, waiting for the Watcher’s answer. But Giles didn’t answer, and then she knew that he knew it as well.
“You, too? You knew it, too?” She stepped back from the monitor, her mind reeling. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Buffy, I understand that you are confused. But you have to understand…”
“Like hell I’m confused. If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice started to shake with anger. Anger and disappointment.
“Because I told them not to.”
Buffy turned to see Spike leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, a worn, old duffel bag at his feet. His posture seemed casual but his face was (pardon the pun) dead serious.
“What?” She tried to say something more, tried to ask more questions, tried to get behind all this, but her throat started to close with something close to confused panic. She had never felt anything like this, not in the last ten years that is. Her mind tried to come up with a possible solution for all this but there was nothing. There was just big confused void inside her head. And she didn’t like that at all.
“Maybe the two of you should talk about this.” Andrew smiled almost sheepishly, twisting his chair from left to right and back again.
“We will. Later. First you gotta give the fellow a decent room to freshen up. Been one hell of ride.” Spike’s eyes never left Buffy who still stared at him in utter disbelief.
“Sure.” The little guy rose and pushed past the Slayer. “If you would excuse us. We have a nice vacant room in the fourth floor. Follow me, please.”
The vampire picked up his bag, and tossed it over his shoulder. Before he turned to follow Andrew, he gave Buffy a short, almost invisible nod. A smile all but made the corner of his mouth twitch. And then he left.
*
The hallway of the old boarding school reminded Spike of the place he’d gone to school as a kid. Dark wood on the walls, a marble floor worn down to a shiny gleam due to the dozens of feet walking over it day after day.
Not very pleasant memories at that, given that a little boy like he’d been – short, slim, and horribly short-sighted – was an excellent target for those who’d like to see what they got away with. A lot, as he’d figured out.
But those days were over now. They were long gone. Almost a hundred and fifty years gone.
Andrew tore him out of his thoughts when he stopped short in front of him, and Spike almost bumped into the Watcher-in-training.
“Watch it, will you?” he snapped, taking a step back.
“Sorry. This is yours.” Andrew pushed open a door to their right. “It’s got its own bathroom so you won’t run into any of the others.”
Spike smirked at him. “Not to worry. You’d be the last I’d ask to bend for the soap.” He pushed past Andrew into the little room.
It was nothing special. A single room with a bed beneath the window, a little spacey for it lacked a desk and a closet. A door to the left must have lead to the aforementioned bathroom.
“What are you going to tell her?” Andrew had stepped into the room as well, closing the door behind him.
Spike dropped his bag in the middle of the room, its contents giving a heavy thump. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged. “The truth,” he said as if it was a suggestion. “There is nothing but the truth.”
“Why did you wait for so long? You could have come here sooner. We would’ve needed you around.”
“No, you didn’t. And if it wasn’t for Giles asking me to come here now, I’d still be down under.”
They both knew that he’d dodged the question. Although Andrew was one of the few people who knew about his return, he wasn’t exactly the guy Spike wanted to talk to about this.
A moment passed before Spike spoke again. “How has she been?”
A smile edged on Andrew’s lips. “She’s holding up. Things are getting rougher around here but you already know that.” He shrugged. “You really should talk to her.”
“I will,” he repeated, impatience and a little touch of anger in his voice. “It’s just… it’s not that simple.”
“You should have thought about that ten years ago. I don’t know what you’re going to tell her but… you should do it soon. It’s not going to get any easier.” The moment he’d said it, Andrew returned to his usual twitchy self. It was weird to see these spurts of confidence in him from time to time. “The kitchen is downstairs if you’re…,” his words trailed off when he realised that Spike wasn’t listening. “I’ll go get someone to find you some heavier curtains. The insurance doesn’t cover burning vampires in the rooms.” And with that, he left the vampire to himself.
Again, Spike took a deep if unneeded breath. What the hell was he supposed to do? He hadn’t told Buffy for a reason and now she demanded to know that reason. She had every right to, no doubt, but… but what? He had inflicted this on himself. He had had plenty of chances to let her know that he was back. But over the time it had gotten harder. Of course, ten years didn’t mean much by vampire standards but for her it was a whole different deal.
Now, he had screwed up like too many other things with her. He had to talk to her, and he had to do it soon. If the situation was as serious as Giles had told him, he wasn’t sure how much time they had. There was not enough time to make up for ten years, of course, but he had to try. It was all he had ever done, try. He had tried to be a poet, had tried to win Cecily’s heart, had tried to be Dru’s dark prince, had tried to be a better man for Buffy. All things he had failed to do. And now he was about to fail again.
There was a knock at the door and Spike flinched. He ran a hand over his face and swallowed. “Yeah,” he grunted, rougher than he had intended.
A young girl opened the door, poking her head in. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. “Mr Spike, Sir? Miss Rosenberg is expecting you in the conference room. She asked me to show you the way.”
Spike couldn’t help but smirk at the girl. “Cut the Mr and the Sir, and I’ll be down in a few. No need to take me down, I’ll find them.”
“As you wish, Sir.” Her face flushed crimson. “I mean… excuse me.” With that, she disappeared.
Apparently that was a thing that hadn’t changed about the young Slayers over the years. Some of them were confident, as though it was your average day job. And some were as scared as this young girl. The scared ones tended to survive longer because they weren’t foolish enough to throw themselves in harm’s way on every occasion.
Spike stripped out of his Kevlar vest and weapon holster, and tossed them on the bed, then shed the shirt in the same fashion. He pulled a grey-green sweater from his duffel bag, and headed for the bathroom.
He sprinkled some water on his face, rinsing the grime of the battle from his skin. It could have been worse but a horde of vampires always left one hell of a pile of dirt. There was no need to look up at the mirror, it wouldn’t tell him anything.
Before he went to look or rather smell for the conference room, he rummaged through his bag until he produced an old book stored in a Ziploc bag. His welcome gift for the witch.
*
Buffy sat at the head of the table, next to Willow who was typing away at her laptop. She had her feet tucked underneath her, nibbling on her bottom lip, twirling one strand of hair around her finger. Giles had filled her in about how Spike’s essence had been captured in the amulet and how it must have been set free somehow. But he wanted to get back to her on that.
A myriad of thoughts ran rampant through her head. She had hardly paid attention to what Giles had told her about Spike’s essence being trapped in the amulet and then set free again by Angel. He talked about all sorts of technicalities she didn’t care about. She cared more about why Spike hadn’t told her that he was back.
She had thought up each and every reason she could come up with. Even those which made sense to her didn’t satisfy her. She just didn’t understand. Andrew and Giles knew, and apparently Willow had learned about it tonight, too. Everybody knew except for her. Feeling betrayed didn’t even begin to cover it.
The group of Awakened Slayers that gathered around the table were all of the first generation. They had the most experience and expertise for what was about to come. Buffy felt as if each of them was eyeing her curiously, as if they all knew as well.
The door to the conference room was pushed open again and Spike appeared. He had changed and lost his armor. When he walked past the table, he hardly ever glanced at her.
“Heya Red,” he nodded towards Willow who looked up from her computer. “Brought you something you might wanna take a look at.” He held up an old volume in a Ziploc bag.
“Spike? Hi, it’s good to see you. You look good.” Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise when her friend rose and hugged the vampire. “Is this the book?”
“One and only.”
“Great, thank you. We can get started then. You mind taking a seat?”
“I’d rather stand.” He smiled but it hardly reached his eyes. Then, he retreated to a corner at the far end of the room where he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
Buffy’s eyes were fixed on him. Everything except the hair was the same and yet the… vibe that radiated off him seemed different. She hadn’t noticed it before but something about him was off. Something she couldn’t put her finger on.
“Okay, everybody?” Willow began, sitting down at her computer again. “Thank you all for coming at this time. As most of you already know, things are going to get rough soon.”
The Slayer’s focus wandered back to her best friend. Whenever Willow held these speeches, she reminded her of Giles so much that it was scary. When the first world-wide confusion about the newly arisen Slayers had ebbed away, it had become clear pretty quickly that the witch would be the head of the new Slayer’s Council.
Although Buffy still felt like the leader of the pack, her role was a more executive one. Her work went hand in hand with Willow’s but she still did what she could do best: lead a bunch of kick-ass girls into the battle against evil.
“We still don’t know all the details but we thought we’d give you a head’s up about what is likely to happen.” She pressed a key on the keyboard; she probably could do the projection just with the force of her mind and magic but she was still sticking to good old technology. “Some of you have been investigating the Secte Noir.” A blurry black and white photograph appeared on the screen behind her, showing a group of people shrouded in black cloaks. “These people are bad. I mean, really bad. We’re still trying to figure out how they do it but we believe they are about to rise the Fates.”
A murmur went through the room. From the corner of her eyes, Buffy saw Spike shift from one leg to the other, adjusting his position. Did he seem squeamish? If the vampire was anything, he sure as hell wasn’t squeamish about anything. And was she the only one who hadn’t heard of the Fates yet?
“For those who have missed their Greek mythology class, I’ll give you a short run-down.”
Another button, another graphic. This time it was a family tree, a very detailed, very confusing family tree. “I won’t go into all the details,” Buffy all but sighed in relief, “but despite common belief, Zeus is not the father of all gods. It’s this whole deal about betrayal, eating their own children and all that stuff. Point is, that Zeus is a little further down the divine food chain. Anyway… nobody knows for sure but the Fates are believed to be Zeus’ daughters.” Yet another graphic, this time three robed ladies. “It doesn’t really matter where they are from but they are major bad news. These three ladies decide over… well, fate, really. One weaves the thread of life, the next measures it, and the last one cuts it whenever she thinks it’s about time.”
Willow cleared her throat. She must have noticed that some of the others – just like Buffy herself – were having problems paying attention.
“It’s not documented anywhere if the Fates are working freelance or if someone can actually control them. What we do know is that they’ve been dormant for a couple of millennia since people have started taking matters into their own hands. If our information about the Secte Noir is correct and they do try to awaken them… let’s just say, that’s not good.”
She picked up the book Spike had given her.
“With this, we might be able to confirm what we know and try to figure out a way to stop them.”
She pressed another button, and another graphic appeared, reading “Thank You!” in big bold letters.
“I know that’s not much yet but we thought it would be best to keep you to up to speed about what’s going on. Thanks for your attention.” She smiled her usual Willow-smile. “Class dismissed.”
The group broke apart, the girls breaking into animated talk about Fates, and gods, and Greek mythology. When Buffy looked over to where Spike had stood, he was gone.
Willow flipped her laptop shut, turning to her friend. “What’s wrong, Buffy?”
“You knew, too, didn’t you? That he was back?” she asked tonelessly.
“Andrew just briefed me in. I didn’t know until a few minutes ago.”
“Would you have told me?”
“If I had known? Sure. You’re my best friend, Buffy.”
The Slayer snorted. “He asked Giles and Andrew not to tell me that he was back. He’s been around for ten years and nobody told me. For all I know he could have been in this city and I wouldn’t have known. I just…I just don’t understand, Will. Why would he do that?”
The red head laid a hand on Buffy’s arm. “I’m sure he had a good reason. He loves you, remember?”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that one.” With that, she rose and left the room.
***
between the satin beaus and their belles’
- “your latest trick” by dire straits
Buffy leaned her head against the cool window of the van when they hit the road. Headquarters was only twenty minutes away from the Kaileq’s former hideout but the ride still seemed like an eternity.
Questions upon questions had already started piling up inside her head, and the more she tried to think of possible answers, the more questions popped up.
She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. She never had been, and she had no problem admitting it. She didn’t have the book smarts. Her intelligence was that of a fighter, of a warrior, of a Slayer in the strictest sense.
In her almost twenty year “career” she’d come across a lot of stuff, a LOT of stuff. Prophecies, myths, artifacts with all sorts of power. She’s died twice, once brought back by CPR, once by magic. Even if her death hadn’t been final, she’d always believed that a pile of ash at the bottom of a gigantic crater was the end for a vampire. It had been for a couple of hundred ubervamps back in the days.
Which brought the big honking question back to mind.
How did Spike come back from the dead?
*
The car pulled into the parking garage of the old boarding school.
The Slayer’s Council had collected a respectable amount of money over the last couple of years, the ‘how’ and ‘where’ unknown to Buffy. All she knew – and wanted to know – was that she and her branch of the Council now occupied an old boarding school.
It was a fairly convenient place to stay. Lots of rooms – more specifically bathrooms – for the girls, classrooms for theory classes and training room for, well, training. Sometimes this whole operation seemed like one big field trip but those were rare moments. Mostly, it was like this. Returning back to HQ with wounded Slayers, recounting the events, trying to figure out the greater scheme and whatnot.
When the car came to a halt, Buffy was the first to jump out, crossing the parking garage in brisk strides. She needed to speak to Giles ASAP. Taking the stairs three steps at a time, she made it to the third floor in less than half a minute.
*
She found Andrew in the computer central where he was hacking away at a laptop that showed a map of the city.
“Andrew, set me up a video feed with Giles.” The little guy turned towards her, his eyes wide. If a lot about him had changed over the years, his close-to-fear respect for Buffy was still a valuable asset.
“Buffy, you’re back. Hi. How did it go?” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Perfect. Now set me up that video feed, please.”
“Sure, coming right up.” Andrew gave his chair a push, rolling it halfway across the room to another computer. “So, did the rescue squad arrive in time?”
“In the nick of, yeah. Is it possible to make this any faster?” Buffy shifted impatiently from one leg to the other, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“I’m working on it. There is still the time difference. He might not pick up.”
“He always picks up.”
“Why is so important? Did you learn anything interesting at Kaileq’s place?”
“You might say that.”
“Yeah, what is it?” he asked, shifting squeamishly on his chair.
Buffy eyed him suspiciously. Something wasn’t right. Andrew was always sort of twitchy but his behavior was more than… well, suspicious. And then something struck her that she hadn’t thought about before. Despite the fact that she still had to figure how it was possible to raise a dead vampire…How had Spike even known where she was? For all she knew he was still the same guy she’d seen going up in flames ten years ago sans any precognitive abilities.
“You know, don’t you?” she said. It wasn’t a question. “You know that Spike is back. You sent him after me with the back up.”
Andrew’s hands froze, hovering over the keyboard. He swallowed, the gulping sound almost echoing in the silence of the room. “Yeah? I… I might have.”
“What do you mean, you might have? You did do it, didn’t you? How long have you known?” Buffy stepped up him, leaning down on the table to get right into his face.
Andrew seemed to shrink on his chair. He became very pale. “I… ten… ten years.”
“What?”
In that moment, the computer in front of Andrew beeped and a window popped up, showing a sleep-deranged Giles in a plaid bathrobe.
“Good morning, Buffy. Andrew. What can I do for you?” Even at whatever time it was in London now, Giles remained as polite as always.
Buffy stepped back from Andrew who gave his chair another slight push to get away from the aggravated Slayer. “Spike is back. He has been for ten years. And Andrew knew about it.” She propped her hands on her hips, waiting for the Watcher’s answer. But Giles didn’t answer, and then she knew that he knew it as well.
“You, too? You knew it, too?” She stepped back from the monitor, her mind reeling. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Buffy, I understand that you are confused. But you have to understand…”
“Like hell I’m confused. If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice started to shake with anger. Anger and disappointment.
“Because I told them not to.”
Buffy turned to see Spike leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest, a worn, old duffel bag at his feet. His posture seemed casual but his face was (pardon the pun) dead serious.
“What?” She tried to say something more, tried to ask more questions, tried to get behind all this, but her throat started to close with something close to confused panic. She had never felt anything like this, not in the last ten years that is. Her mind tried to come up with a possible solution for all this but there was nothing. There was just big confused void inside her head. And she didn’t like that at all.
“Maybe the two of you should talk about this.” Andrew smiled almost sheepishly, twisting his chair from left to right and back again.
“We will. Later. First you gotta give the fellow a decent room to freshen up. Been one hell of ride.” Spike’s eyes never left Buffy who still stared at him in utter disbelief.
“Sure.” The little guy rose and pushed past the Slayer. “If you would excuse us. We have a nice vacant room in the fourth floor. Follow me, please.”
The vampire picked up his bag, and tossed it over his shoulder. Before he turned to follow Andrew, he gave Buffy a short, almost invisible nod. A smile all but made the corner of his mouth twitch. And then he left.
*
The hallway of the old boarding school reminded Spike of the place he’d gone to school as a kid. Dark wood on the walls, a marble floor worn down to a shiny gleam due to the dozens of feet walking over it day after day.
Not very pleasant memories at that, given that a little boy like he’d been – short, slim, and horribly short-sighted – was an excellent target for those who’d like to see what they got away with. A lot, as he’d figured out.
But those days were over now. They were long gone. Almost a hundred and fifty years gone.
Andrew tore him out of his thoughts when he stopped short in front of him, and Spike almost bumped into the Watcher-in-training.
“Watch it, will you?” he snapped, taking a step back.
“Sorry. This is yours.” Andrew pushed open a door to their right. “It’s got its own bathroom so you won’t run into any of the others.”
Spike smirked at him. “Not to worry. You’d be the last I’d ask to bend for the soap.” He pushed past Andrew into the little room.
It was nothing special. A single room with a bed beneath the window, a little spacey for it lacked a desk and a closet. A door to the left must have lead to the aforementioned bathroom.
“What are you going to tell her?” Andrew had stepped into the room as well, closing the door behind him.
Spike dropped his bag in the middle of the room, its contents giving a heavy thump. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged. “The truth,” he said as if it was a suggestion. “There is nothing but the truth.”
“Why did you wait for so long? You could have come here sooner. We would’ve needed you around.”
“No, you didn’t. And if it wasn’t for Giles asking me to come here now, I’d still be down under.”
They both knew that he’d dodged the question. Although Andrew was one of the few people who knew about his return, he wasn’t exactly the guy Spike wanted to talk to about this.
A moment passed before Spike spoke again. “How has she been?”
A smile edged on Andrew’s lips. “She’s holding up. Things are getting rougher around here but you already know that.” He shrugged. “You really should talk to her.”
“I will,” he repeated, impatience and a little touch of anger in his voice. “It’s just… it’s not that simple.”
“You should have thought about that ten years ago. I don’t know what you’re going to tell her but… you should do it soon. It’s not going to get any easier.” The moment he’d said it, Andrew returned to his usual twitchy self. It was weird to see these spurts of confidence in him from time to time. “The kitchen is downstairs if you’re…,” his words trailed off when he realised that Spike wasn’t listening. “I’ll go get someone to find you some heavier curtains. The insurance doesn’t cover burning vampires in the rooms.” And with that, he left the vampire to himself.
Again, Spike took a deep if unneeded breath. What the hell was he supposed to do? He hadn’t told Buffy for a reason and now she demanded to know that reason. She had every right to, no doubt, but… but what? He had inflicted this on himself. He had had plenty of chances to let her know that he was back. But over the time it had gotten harder. Of course, ten years didn’t mean much by vampire standards but for her it was a whole different deal.
Now, he had screwed up like too many other things with her. He had to talk to her, and he had to do it soon. If the situation was as serious as Giles had told him, he wasn’t sure how much time they had. There was not enough time to make up for ten years, of course, but he had to try. It was all he had ever done, try. He had tried to be a poet, had tried to win Cecily’s heart, had tried to be Dru’s dark prince, had tried to be a better man for Buffy. All things he had failed to do. And now he was about to fail again.
There was a knock at the door and Spike flinched. He ran a hand over his face and swallowed. “Yeah,” he grunted, rougher than he had intended.
A young girl opened the door, poking her head in. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. “Mr Spike, Sir? Miss Rosenberg is expecting you in the conference room. She asked me to show you the way.”
Spike couldn’t help but smirk at the girl. “Cut the Mr and the Sir, and I’ll be down in a few. No need to take me down, I’ll find them.”
“As you wish, Sir.” Her face flushed crimson. “I mean… excuse me.” With that, she disappeared.
Apparently that was a thing that hadn’t changed about the young Slayers over the years. Some of them were confident, as though it was your average day job. And some were as scared as this young girl. The scared ones tended to survive longer because they weren’t foolish enough to throw themselves in harm’s way on every occasion.
Spike stripped out of his Kevlar vest and weapon holster, and tossed them on the bed, then shed the shirt in the same fashion. He pulled a grey-green sweater from his duffel bag, and headed for the bathroom.
He sprinkled some water on his face, rinsing the grime of the battle from his skin. It could have been worse but a horde of vampires always left one hell of a pile of dirt. There was no need to look up at the mirror, it wouldn’t tell him anything.
Before he went to look or rather smell for the conference room, he rummaged through his bag until he produced an old book stored in a Ziploc bag. His welcome gift for the witch.
*
Buffy sat at the head of the table, next to Willow who was typing away at her laptop. She had her feet tucked underneath her, nibbling on her bottom lip, twirling one strand of hair around her finger. Giles had filled her in about how Spike’s essence had been captured in the amulet and how it must have been set free somehow. But he wanted to get back to her on that.
A myriad of thoughts ran rampant through her head. She had hardly paid attention to what Giles had told her about Spike’s essence being trapped in the amulet and then set free again by Angel. He talked about all sorts of technicalities she didn’t care about. She cared more about why Spike hadn’t told her that he was back.
She had thought up each and every reason she could come up with. Even those which made sense to her didn’t satisfy her. She just didn’t understand. Andrew and Giles knew, and apparently Willow had learned about it tonight, too. Everybody knew except for her. Feeling betrayed didn’t even begin to cover it.
The group of Awakened Slayers that gathered around the table were all of the first generation. They had the most experience and expertise for what was about to come. Buffy felt as if each of them was eyeing her curiously, as if they all knew as well.
The door to the conference room was pushed open again and Spike appeared. He had changed and lost his armor. When he walked past the table, he hardly ever glanced at her.
“Heya Red,” he nodded towards Willow who looked up from her computer. “Brought you something you might wanna take a look at.” He held up an old volume in a Ziploc bag.
“Spike? Hi, it’s good to see you. You look good.” Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise when her friend rose and hugged the vampire. “Is this the book?”
“One and only.”
“Great, thank you. We can get started then. You mind taking a seat?”
“I’d rather stand.” He smiled but it hardly reached his eyes. Then, he retreated to a corner at the far end of the room where he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
Buffy’s eyes were fixed on him. Everything except the hair was the same and yet the… vibe that radiated off him seemed different. She hadn’t noticed it before but something about him was off. Something she couldn’t put her finger on.
“Okay, everybody?” Willow began, sitting down at her computer again. “Thank you all for coming at this time. As most of you already know, things are going to get rough soon.”
The Slayer’s focus wandered back to her best friend. Whenever Willow held these speeches, she reminded her of Giles so much that it was scary. When the first world-wide confusion about the newly arisen Slayers had ebbed away, it had become clear pretty quickly that the witch would be the head of the new Slayer’s Council.
Although Buffy still felt like the leader of the pack, her role was a more executive one. Her work went hand in hand with Willow’s but she still did what she could do best: lead a bunch of kick-ass girls into the battle against evil.
“We still don’t know all the details but we thought we’d give you a head’s up about what is likely to happen.” She pressed a key on the keyboard; she probably could do the projection just with the force of her mind and magic but she was still sticking to good old technology. “Some of you have been investigating the Secte Noir.” A blurry black and white photograph appeared on the screen behind her, showing a group of people shrouded in black cloaks. “These people are bad. I mean, really bad. We’re still trying to figure out how they do it but we believe they are about to rise the Fates.”
A murmur went through the room. From the corner of her eyes, Buffy saw Spike shift from one leg to the other, adjusting his position. Did he seem squeamish? If the vampire was anything, he sure as hell wasn’t squeamish about anything. And was she the only one who hadn’t heard of the Fates yet?
“For those who have missed their Greek mythology class, I’ll give you a short run-down.”
Another button, another graphic. This time it was a family tree, a very detailed, very confusing family tree. “I won’t go into all the details,” Buffy all but sighed in relief, “but despite common belief, Zeus is not the father of all gods. It’s this whole deal about betrayal, eating their own children and all that stuff. Point is, that Zeus is a little further down the divine food chain. Anyway… nobody knows for sure but the Fates are believed to be Zeus’ daughters.” Yet another graphic, this time three robed ladies. “It doesn’t really matter where they are from but they are major bad news. These three ladies decide over… well, fate, really. One weaves the thread of life, the next measures it, and the last one cuts it whenever she thinks it’s about time.”
Willow cleared her throat. She must have noticed that some of the others – just like Buffy herself – were having problems paying attention.
“It’s not documented anywhere if the Fates are working freelance or if someone can actually control them. What we do know is that they’ve been dormant for a couple of millennia since people have started taking matters into their own hands. If our information about the Secte Noir is correct and they do try to awaken them… let’s just say, that’s not good.”
She picked up the book Spike had given her.
“With this, we might be able to confirm what we know and try to figure out a way to stop them.”
She pressed another button, and another graphic appeared, reading “Thank You!” in big bold letters.
“I know that’s not much yet but we thought it would be best to keep you to up to speed about what’s going on. Thanks for your attention.” She smiled her usual Willow-smile. “Class dismissed.”
The group broke apart, the girls breaking into animated talk about Fates, and gods, and Greek mythology. When Buffy looked over to where Spike had stood, he was gone.
Willow flipped her laptop shut, turning to her friend. “What’s wrong, Buffy?”
“You knew, too, didn’t you? That he was back?” she asked tonelessly.
“Andrew just briefed me in. I didn’t know until a few minutes ago.”
“Would you have told me?”
“If I had known? Sure. You’re my best friend, Buffy.”
The Slayer snorted. “He asked Giles and Andrew not to tell me that he was back. He’s been around for ten years and nobody told me. For all I know he could have been in this city and I wouldn’t have known. I just…I just don’t understand, Will. Why would he do that?”
The red head laid a hand on Buffy’s arm. “I’m sure he had a good reason. He loves you, remember?”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that one.” With that, she rose and left the room.
***
Chapter 03
Chapter 03
‘maybe he could talk about the tricks of the trade
maybe he could talk about himself
maybe he could talk about the money that he made
maybe he'd be saying something else’
- “communique” by dire straits
Spike couldn’t remember the last hot shower he had. Not that it made much difference to a cold-blooded (and bodied) creature like a vampire but it was still a nice feeling after all. Of course, Australia did have showers and everything but the places he’d been to hardly had running water. If coming to Slayer-central had one advantage, it was the nice accommodations.
The water ran down his back and slowly, the sore muscles started to ease a little. He had taken a ship from Australia to Los Angeles and from there he’d taken his bike to Cleveland. A hundred and some odd years, and this was the first time he’d been on Route 66. As resistant to pain as he was, riding a bike for five nights straight was not as much fun as it seemed.
Although he tried to push the thoughts away, his mind always wandered back to Buffy. The looks she’d given him in the conference room; the confusion on her face whenever their gazes had met. That was one reason why he had hardly looked at her.
He knew that the inevitable talk would come, sooner than later. He knew that she would hate him when he told her what he’d done. Not that he could blame her exactly. He owed her an explanation. More so, he owed her the truth, about everything. From the second he’d been back to the second she’d laid her eyes upon him in Kaileq’s lair.
Of course, some things were irrelevant. She didn’t need to know about each and every demon and vampire he’d killed in the meantime but other than that, she deserved the unabridged version.
Spike didn’t know how long he’d been in the shower but when he turned off the water, a thick cloud of mist had formed in the room. He stepped out of the small enclosure, wrapping a towel around his hips.
Although the gesture was unnecessary, he wiped a hand across the clouded mirror that would have revealed his face if he had a reflection.
When he went back into the other room, there was a knock on the door.
“Hold on,” he grunted as he started rummaging through his duffel bag for a clean pair of pants. He didn’t need to scare another Slayer. When he’d slipped into another pair of black cargo pants (whatever happened to his generic black jeans, he couldn’t remember), he grunted another, “Come in.”
It was Buffy. Of course, it was.
*
The moment Buffy stepped into the room, she felt her throat constrict as though she was choking on her own breath. She had no idea where that reaction came from but it happened whenever she thought of Spike.
He was naked but for a pair of those cargo pants she’d seen on him earlier. His upper body was glistening with water, as was the shadow of dark hair on his head. For some weird reason that still struck her as the oddest thing about his new look. She had never pictured him with anything but the Billy Idol look.
“Hey.” Her voice was barely audible when she closed the door and leaned against it.
“Hey,” he replied in almost the same tone.
“I think we need to talk.”
He shifted from one leg to the other, propping his hands on his hips. If she didn’t have more urgent matter at hand, she would have noticed the increased amount of scars on his body. They would vanish with time but some were still fresh and pink.
“Can you… can you put something on?” she heard herself say. It was ridiculous to make him dress considering their history but it was kind of a distraction.
“Sure.” He picked up his bag and produced a black t-shirt. At least one thing hadn’t changed about him.
When he turned, Buffy spotted a circular tattoo on his back right below his neck between his shoulder blades.
“The Helm of Awe. Nice.” She sounded almost annoyed by this next novelty.
“Ran into an old Asatru coven over in Norway. Gave it to me for protection.”
“They gave you the Kevlar vest, too?”
“No, got that in China.” Spike slipped into his shirt, smoothing it over his stomach.
Almost a minute passed in awkward silence.
Buffy tried not to let her disappointment get the better of her. One part of her wanted to scream at him, throw herself at him and tear him a second one. Another part of her hated him even though she hadn’t heard his reasons yet. And still another part of her didn’t care about his reasons, she hated him just because.
And then a part of her was just insanely happy to see him.
“Ten years, Spike.” Her voice was calm, resolved. Although all these emotions ran rampant inside her, she first and foremost wanted answers. “Talk.”
He nodded ever so slightly, sinking down on the bed that gave a loud squeak. He winced. “Promise to hear me out?”
She snorted uninterestedly. “You owe me. I’m not going to promise you anything.”
“Fair enough.” Spike ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I want to know everything.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Like, how you happened to pull this Phoenix impression.”
“I bet Giles has you filled in on that. I… I don’t know how it happened but I came back. Just like that. At first, I was a ghost and then, I got a… a flashbox in the mail and got corporeal again.”
“A flashbox? Are you kidding me? ‘Cause it’s not funny.”
“I am not,” he said pointedly. Buffy knew that he was serious but she was still too worked up about this whole thing. “Don’t you think if I’d had a better explanation I’d give it to you?”
“Yeah well, I’m not really sure what to believe right now, so bear with me here, okay?” Anger started to rise up inside her like bile.
“Just… give me a chance to explain, alright?” Now she heard the anger in his voice as well. He swallowed. “Andrew came to LA to pick up that whacked out Slayer. I told him not to tell you because… what was he supposed to tell you? What was I supposed to say?”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“I’m not sayin’ it is. I just… I died, and I came back. I didn’t know what was going on at the time and… I guess I was afraid that what happened back in Sunnydale wouldn’t mean anything anymore.”
Again, Buffy snorted. Was he serious? “You were afraid that returning from the dead would make you lose heroic brownie points?” One angry Slayer, many wacky quips.
“At the time, yeah. And seeing the way you react now tells me that I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?”
“What happened after that?” She couldn’t deny that he wasn’t at least a little bit right. She had no idea how she would have reacted if he’d told her right away but that didn’t matter right now.
“A couple of months after that… Angel and I went to Rome to retrieve the head of some demon clan. We… went by your apartment and Andrew told us you were with the Immortal, that you were… snuggling. Told us to move on.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I figured… that telling you wouldn’t make much sense anymore.”
“You… you were in Rome? In my apartment?” If her incredulousness could reach another level, she would have hit it right now. Once more, her mind started to spin with a mixture of emotions, mostly anger and confusion. She’d always believed Spike to be the most honest… being she knew. Tonight, she had been proven wrong. What else was he hiding from her?
And despite her fury, some part of her was also a little embarrassed that he’d gotten to know that she’d been with the Immortal. That was one thing she wasn’t so proud of. Of course, things had turned out well for her side but still… If she had known about his return back then, she would have done anything to keep that news from him, knowing how jealous these ensouled vampire could be when it came to her choice in boyfriends.
“Yes. Not sayin’ I’m proud of it. When we got back to LA, all hell broke loose with the whole Black Thorn business. I suppose you know about that?”
“We got word, yeah. But apparently we didn’t get the whole story,” she snapped.
“We barely got out of there in one piece. Gunn died, and Wes. When things… quieted down a little, Angel got in contact with the Council to send down some Slayers to contain the mess. And I… I made a deal with Giles.”
“What deal? To lie to me? To keep things from me?”
“Yes. He got to know that I was back. He agreed to…give me information on you in exchange… for me staying away from you. Seemed to fancy that deal a whole lot.” He looked up her, his eyes almost sad. “He would tell me what was going on around here, and I would…”
“Hide?” Buffy interrupted. At what point had her voice started to shake? “What did you do all those years? Except for getting this Riley look going?”
Clearly feeling hurt about that last comment, he raised his voice. “Hey, you take that back? I was trying to do the right thing, alright?”
“The right thing? You lied to me. You made my friends lie to me. How’s that the right thing?”
“You think I liked it?” He rose, anger burning in her eyes. “You think I liked not seeing you? Just reading about you in emails? It was the only way, don’t you understand that?”
“No, I don’t understand, Spike. I don’t understand why you stayed away from me for a decade.”
Now it was his turn to give an incredulous snort. “What do you think would’ve happened if I told you? If I’d come back? After all that happened… there was no way for me to be around you.”
She stared at him in utter disbelief. “You’re not the only one who’s having a say in this, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Right, the big heroic thing. You know what is right for me, you always have.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t need to be protected.”
“Exactly.”
“Spike, you do realise that you’re not making any sense, right?” Where was this going? When she’d come up to his room, she’d had a million question in her head but right now, she was pulling a blank sheet. Her thoughts were running in circles and spirals and there was no way out of this.
He took a deep breath. “You’re the strongest woman I know. No matter how many girls are crawling this place, you’ll always be the one Slayer. You don’t need me, never have. You saw what happened in Sunnydale when the First got a hold of me. When I’m around you, you get hurt,” he sighed. “I’m a burden to you.”
Silence fell between them. Buffy just stared at him. No matter how much sense his words made, she still didn’t understand them. There had been a time when she had tried to get rid of him, when all she had wanted was for him to disappear from her world. And now that he’d finally done that…
Heat started to rise somewhere behind her eyes, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to push the tears away.
“You remember when I told you that I was not ready for you not to be around? That’s still valid, you know?” her voice started to quiver. She couldn’t cry now. Not in front of him, not when she was supposed to be angry at him. “When you died… I mourned for you. Until I finally decided that I had to go on with my life, with my mission. And now you traipse in here, telling me that…,” her voice trailed off when she felt the first tear sliding down her cheek. She looked up at him, her eyes shining very green.
“Ten years, Spike. Ten years.” And then, she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.
Spike was at her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms. She pressed her face against his shoulder, sobbing quietly into his t-shirt.
All the anger she had worked up in the last hour or two poured out of her. She couldn’t be angry at him any more. A huge part of her was still disappointed, feeling betrayed but the part of her that had mourned for him, that had dreamed about him so many times, that had wished for a little more time with him so she could tell him all the things she’d wanted to tell him… that part had taken over now.
*
Time seemed to have lost a good portion of it’s meaning when Spike held her like that, feeling her fragile body shaking against his.
He ran a hand over her hair, the other ran lazy patters across her back. “I’m here,” he murmured into her ear. “I’m here now.”
After an eternity, she pulled away from him, her eyes swollen and red. “How long are you going to be here?” Her voice was still heavy with tears.
“Dunno. Finish this Fate deal.” He shrugged, one hand still entangled in her hair. “We’ll see after that.”
She nodded weakly. “Okay. I… I should go now. Been a long day.”
“Yeah. We… We’ll talk tomorrow. Or… whenever.”
Buffy nodded again. “Sure.” She opened the door. “Goodnight, Spike.”
He tried to smile, then nodded. Before she closed the door behind her, he spoke again. “Buffy?” She turned to look at him. “I’m here.”
And then she left.
Spike ran a hand over his face. This wasn’t exactly what he’d thought it would be like. He knew that they weren’t done yet. He still hadn’t told her the truth. Not all of it anyway. For now, this was all she needed to know. He knew that he would have to tell her eventually but the time wasn’t right yet. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the thought that he was back. If he’d filled her in about the rest of his story… if she didn’t hate him now already, she surely would then.
When he sat down on the bed again, his vision suddenly started to blur. A sharp pang of pain tore through his chest, and his left hand felt very numb. He clutched a hand over his heart, wincing in pain until it finally subsided. If he’d been in need of air, he’d have panted right now.
What the hell was that?
***
A/N: In case you’re not familiar with the Asatru symbols etc., here’s an example of what the ‘Helm of Awe’ might look like. I’m by no means an expert (had to google a whole lot) but as I understand it, there a few variations to this. I picked this one ‘cause it it found fit nicely there, if you know what I mean ;)
maybe he could talk about himself
maybe he could talk about the money that he made
maybe he'd be saying something else’
- “communique” by dire straits
Spike couldn’t remember the last hot shower he had. Not that it made much difference to a cold-blooded (and bodied) creature like a vampire but it was still a nice feeling after all. Of course, Australia did have showers and everything but the places he’d been to hardly had running water. If coming to Slayer-central had one advantage, it was the nice accommodations.
The water ran down his back and slowly, the sore muscles started to ease a little. He had taken a ship from Australia to Los Angeles and from there he’d taken his bike to Cleveland. A hundred and some odd years, and this was the first time he’d been on Route 66. As resistant to pain as he was, riding a bike for five nights straight was not as much fun as it seemed.
Although he tried to push the thoughts away, his mind always wandered back to Buffy. The looks she’d given him in the conference room; the confusion on her face whenever their gazes had met. That was one reason why he had hardly looked at her.
He knew that the inevitable talk would come, sooner than later. He knew that she would hate him when he told her what he’d done. Not that he could blame her exactly. He owed her an explanation. More so, he owed her the truth, about everything. From the second he’d been back to the second she’d laid her eyes upon him in Kaileq’s lair.
Of course, some things were irrelevant. She didn’t need to know about each and every demon and vampire he’d killed in the meantime but other than that, she deserved the unabridged version.
Spike didn’t know how long he’d been in the shower but when he turned off the water, a thick cloud of mist had formed in the room. He stepped out of the small enclosure, wrapping a towel around his hips.
Although the gesture was unnecessary, he wiped a hand across the clouded mirror that would have revealed his face if he had a reflection.
When he went back into the other room, there was a knock on the door.
“Hold on,” he grunted as he started rummaging through his duffel bag for a clean pair of pants. He didn’t need to scare another Slayer. When he’d slipped into another pair of black cargo pants (whatever happened to his generic black jeans, he couldn’t remember), he grunted another, “Come in.”
It was Buffy. Of course, it was.
*
The moment Buffy stepped into the room, she felt her throat constrict as though she was choking on her own breath. She had no idea where that reaction came from but it happened whenever she thought of Spike.
He was naked but for a pair of those cargo pants she’d seen on him earlier. His upper body was glistening with water, as was the shadow of dark hair on his head. For some weird reason that still struck her as the oddest thing about his new look. She had never pictured him with anything but the Billy Idol look.
“Hey.” Her voice was barely audible when she closed the door and leaned against it.
“Hey,” he replied in almost the same tone.
“I think we need to talk.”
He shifted from one leg to the other, propping his hands on his hips. If she didn’t have more urgent matter at hand, she would have noticed the increased amount of scars on his body. They would vanish with time but some were still fresh and pink.
“Can you… can you put something on?” she heard herself say. It was ridiculous to make him dress considering their history but it was kind of a distraction.
“Sure.” He picked up his bag and produced a black t-shirt. At least one thing hadn’t changed about him.
When he turned, Buffy spotted a circular tattoo on his back right below his neck between his shoulder blades.
“The Helm of Awe. Nice.” She sounded almost annoyed by this next novelty.
“Ran into an old Asatru coven over in Norway. Gave it to me for protection.”
“They gave you the Kevlar vest, too?”
“No, got that in China.” Spike slipped into his shirt, smoothing it over his stomach.
Almost a minute passed in awkward silence.
Buffy tried not to let her disappointment get the better of her. One part of her wanted to scream at him, throw herself at him and tear him a second one. Another part of her hated him even though she hadn’t heard his reasons yet. And still another part of her didn’t care about his reasons, she hated him just because.
And then a part of her was just insanely happy to see him.
“Ten years, Spike.” Her voice was calm, resolved. Although all these emotions ran rampant inside her, she first and foremost wanted answers. “Talk.”
He nodded ever so slightly, sinking down on the bed that gave a loud squeak. He winced. “Promise to hear me out?”
She snorted uninterestedly. “You owe me. I’m not going to promise you anything.”
“Fair enough.” Spike ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I want to know everything.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Like, how you happened to pull this Phoenix impression.”
“I bet Giles has you filled in on that. I… I don’t know how it happened but I came back. Just like that. At first, I was a ghost and then, I got a… a flashbox in the mail and got corporeal again.”
“A flashbox? Are you kidding me? ‘Cause it’s not funny.”
“I am not,” he said pointedly. Buffy knew that he was serious but she was still too worked up about this whole thing. “Don’t you think if I’d had a better explanation I’d give it to you?”
“Yeah well, I’m not really sure what to believe right now, so bear with me here, okay?” Anger started to rise up inside her like bile.
“Just… give me a chance to explain, alright?” Now she heard the anger in his voice as well. He swallowed. “Andrew came to LA to pick up that whacked out Slayer. I told him not to tell you because… what was he supposed to tell you? What was I supposed to say?”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“I’m not sayin’ it is. I just… I died, and I came back. I didn’t know what was going on at the time and… I guess I was afraid that what happened back in Sunnydale wouldn’t mean anything anymore.”
Again, Buffy snorted. Was he serious? “You were afraid that returning from the dead would make you lose heroic brownie points?” One angry Slayer, many wacky quips.
“At the time, yeah. And seeing the way you react now tells me that I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?”
“What happened after that?” She couldn’t deny that he wasn’t at least a little bit right. She had no idea how she would have reacted if he’d told her right away but that didn’t matter right now.
“A couple of months after that… Angel and I went to Rome to retrieve the head of some demon clan. We… went by your apartment and Andrew told us you were with the Immortal, that you were… snuggling. Told us to move on.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I figured… that telling you wouldn’t make much sense anymore.”
“You… you were in Rome? In my apartment?” If her incredulousness could reach another level, she would have hit it right now. Once more, her mind started to spin with a mixture of emotions, mostly anger and confusion. She’d always believed Spike to be the most honest… being she knew. Tonight, she had been proven wrong. What else was he hiding from her?
And despite her fury, some part of her was also a little embarrassed that he’d gotten to know that she’d been with the Immortal. That was one thing she wasn’t so proud of. Of course, things had turned out well for her side but still… If she had known about his return back then, she would have done anything to keep that news from him, knowing how jealous these ensouled vampire could be when it came to her choice in boyfriends.
“Yes. Not sayin’ I’m proud of it. When we got back to LA, all hell broke loose with the whole Black Thorn business. I suppose you know about that?”
“We got word, yeah. But apparently we didn’t get the whole story,” she snapped.
“We barely got out of there in one piece. Gunn died, and Wes. When things… quieted down a little, Angel got in contact with the Council to send down some Slayers to contain the mess. And I… I made a deal with Giles.”
“What deal? To lie to me? To keep things from me?”
“Yes. He got to know that I was back. He agreed to…give me information on you in exchange… for me staying away from you. Seemed to fancy that deal a whole lot.” He looked up her, his eyes almost sad. “He would tell me what was going on around here, and I would…”
“Hide?” Buffy interrupted. At what point had her voice started to shake? “What did you do all those years? Except for getting this Riley look going?”
Clearly feeling hurt about that last comment, he raised his voice. “Hey, you take that back? I was trying to do the right thing, alright?”
“The right thing? You lied to me. You made my friends lie to me. How’s that the right thing?”
“You think I liked it?” He rose, anger burning in her eyes. “You think I liked not seeing you? Just reading about you in emails? It was the only way, don’t you understand that?”
“No, I don’t understand, Spike. I don’t understand why you stayed away from me for a decade.”
Now it was his turn to give an incredulous snort. “What do you think would’ve happened if I told you? If I’d come back? After all that happened… there was no way for me to be around you.”
She stared at him in utter disbelief. “You’re not the only one who’s having a say in this, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Right, the big heroic thing. You know what is right for me, you always have.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t need to be protected.”
“Exactly.”
“Spike, you do realise that you’re not making any sense, right?” Where was this going? When she’d come up to his room, she’d had a million question in her head but right now, she was pulling a blank sheet. Her thoughts were running in circles and spirals and there was no way out of this.
He took a deep breath. “You’re the strongest woman I know. No matter how many girls are crawling this place, you’ll always be the one Slayer. You don’t need me, never have. You saw what happened in Sunnydale when the First got a hold of me. When I’m around you, you get hurt,” he sighed. “I’m a burden to you.”
Silence fell between them. Buffy just stared at him. No matter how much sense his words made, she still didn’t understand them. There had been a time when she had tried to get rid of him, when all she had wanted was for him to disappear from her world. And now that he’d finally done that…
Heat started to rise somewhere behind her eyes, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, trying to push the tears away.
“You remember when I told you that I was not ready for you not to be around? That’s still valid, you know?” her voice started to quiver. She couldn’t cry now. Not in front of him, not when she was supposed to be angry at him. “When you died… I mourned for you. Until I finally decided that I had to go on with my life, with my mission. And now you traipse in here, telling me that…,” her voice trailed off when she felt the first tear sliding down her cheek. She looked up at him, her eyes shining very green.
“Ten years, Spike. Ten years.” And then, she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.
Spike was at her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms. She pressed her face against his shoulder, sobbing quietly into his t-shirt.
All the anger she had worked up in the last hour or two poured out of her. She couldn’t be angry at him any more. A huge part of her was still disappointed, feeling betrayed but the part of her that had mourned for him, that had dreamed about him so many times, that had wished for a little more time with him so she could tell him all the things she’d wanted to tell him… that part had taken over now.
*
Time seemed to have lost a good portion of it’s meaning when Spike held her like that, feeling her fragile body shaking against his.
He ran a hand over her hair, the other ran lazy patters across her back. “I’m here,” he murmured into her ear. “I’m here now.”
After an eternity, she pulled away from him, her eyes swollen and red. “How long are you going to be here?” Her voice was still heavy with tears.
“Dunno. Finish this Fate deal.” He shrugged, one hand still entangled in her hair. “We’ll see after that.”
She nodded weakly. “Okay. I… I should go now. Been a long day.”
“Yeah. We… We’ll talk tomorrow. Or… whenever.”
Buffy nodded again. “Sure.” She opened the door. “Goodnight, Spike.”
He tried to smile, then nodded. Before she closed the door behind her, he spoke again. “Buffy?” She turned to look at him. “I’m here.”
And then she left.
Spike ran a hand over his face. This wasn’t exactly what he’d thought it would be like. He knew that they weren’t done yet. He still hadn’t told her the truth. Not all of it anyway. For now, this was all she needed to know. He knew that he would have to tell her eventually but the time wasn’t right yet. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the thought that he was back. If he’d filled her in about the rest of his story… if she didn’t hate him now already, she surely would then.
When he sat down on the bed again, his vision suddenly started to blur. A sharp pang of pain tore through his chest, and his left hand felt very numb. He clutched a hand over his heart, wincing in pain until it finally subsided. If he’d been in need of air, he’d have panted right now.
What the hell was that?
***
A/N: In case you’re not familiar with the Asatru symbols etc., here’s an example of what the ‘Helm of Awe’ might look like. I’m by no means an expert (had to google a whole lot) but as I understand it, there a few variations to this. I picked this one ‘cause it it found fit nicely there, if you know what I mean ;)
Chapter 04
Chapter 04
‘why worry, there should be laughter after the pain
there should be sunshine after rain
these things have always been the same
so why worry now’
- “why worry” by dire straits
When they had moved the Slayer Council into the boarding school, Buffy had taken the old principal’s apartment on the top floor. It wasn’t really a penthouse but it was the only thing occupying that floor.
The three rooms, kitchen and bath were more than enough for her but it was still nice to have her own space for a change. She had never had a place on her own except for those few weeks she’d spent in Los Angeles after she had stabbed Angel. After that, there had always been people around her. At home, at college, and especially when Giles had started bringing Slayer-trainees to her place.
Now she welcomed the few moments of solitude she got.
Her place was cold. Buffy didn’t bother to switch on the heating for she was out most of the time. A shiver ran down her spine when she closed the door behind her. She wasn’t quite sure if it was all due to the temperature.
She still couldn’t believe what had happened tonight. First, being captured by Kaileq, and then being rescued by Spike who she’d thought dead for ten years. Not only was he back, but there was also a big honking threat coming up again which they had no idea how to fight.
It never rained, it poured. And she was drowning in it.
Pushing herself off the wall, she made her way to the kitchen. There wasn’t much in it except for the basics: table, cupboard, stove and a fridge. Buffy went to the latter and took out an already open bottle of red wine, then a glass from the cupboard. She sat down in front of the small TV in the living room and flipped it on.
She didn’t care much for the show that was running, anything was welcome. Of course, the program didn’t help in distracting her from the burning questions. So yeah, Spike had answered some of them but she felt that there was something else. Something that he didn’t tell her.
There was a knock on the door and Buffy flinched, almost spilling her wine while she poured herself a glass. “Come in.”
It was Willow. She stuck her head through the door, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, Buffy. Can I come in?”
“Sure. You want a glass?” Buffy pointed at the bottle.
“Yeah, thanks.”
When Buffy came back with another glass for her friend, Willow stood by the window, looking out into the approaching morning.
“What’s going on?” Buffy already knew why her friend was here. They had been through too much together for her not to know.
“How are you doing, Buffy?” Willow turned and sat down next to her friend.
“How do you think I’m doing?” It came out a lot harsher than Buffy had intended, and it was the witch’s turn to flinch. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m just… I’m confused. This whole thing…” Her words trailed off and she took a sip from her wine.
“Did you talk yet?”
“Yeah, I just came up from his room.”
“What did he say?” Willow started to sound a little impatient.
“He told me about… what happened. How he came back and everything.”
“Why did he stay away for so long?”
Buffy remained silent for a long moment. “I guess… that’s mostly my fault.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I… he came to Rome when I was with the Immortal.”
Willow shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. “You mean that kept him away for so long? That doesn’t sound much like him.”
Buffy nodded sadly. “I know. It’s just…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly feeling very tired. “I told him that I love him.”
“What? When?” In an instant, Willow was at the edge of her seat.
“Back in Sunnydale when… right before the end,” the Slayer admitted hesitatingly, sadness tinging her voice.
“You never told me about that.” The red head was clearly disappointed.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just… when I told him he said ‘No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it.’” Buffy did her best, mimicking Spike’s accent. “And I guess when he found out that I was with the Immortal… it proved his point, you know?”
There was a long pause between them. Buffy’s eyes were focused on the sparkling red liquid in her glass while Willow was watching her. “Did it? I mean… was he right?”
“Why don’t you ask me if I love him, Will? I’m too tired for twisted questions.”
“Fine. Do you love him?” There was something in Willow’s voice that let her know that she wouldn’t like either answer.
“I don’t know.” Buffy shrugged. “We are… complicated. There was… so much between us that… it was bad. Really bad. And then… he changed. He got a soul. For me. He went through hell and back just for me. How… how can I not… love him?”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
Again, Buffy remained silent for a long while. “Yes, I guess I do.”
Willow smiled at her almost triumphantly. “I knew it.”
“What?”
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worked up about this.”
Buffy nodded, caught in the act. “Doesn’t change anything. He didn’t believe me then, and he won’t believe me now. Also… I don’t know if he still loves me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He doesn’t look at me like he used to. And when… he hugged me just now… it felt cold, you know? Even when he… even without the soul, he never felt cold. It is as if there is something missing. I can’t really explain but… something isn’t right. I just don’t know what it is.”
Willow laid a hand on her arm. “You haven’t seen each other in ten years. There a lot you need to catch up on. You should talk to him again; tell him how you feel. Things will work out. Just… give him some time to adjust.”
“What if we don’t have the time? With what’s coming up?”
“Than we’ll do what we always do: We fight, we win, and then we buy new shoes.”
If Buffy could rely on one thing, it was that Willow’s chipper mood was never lost on her. For the first time tonight, she was able to smile again.
“Thanks, Will.” She laid her hand on Willow’s but pulled back after a brief second. “I just missed him so much, you know? All those years…I wished I had told him sooner, so he’d believe me. I thought about how it might be if he ever came back. And…it was never like this.”
Willow smiled that genuine smile of hers. “It’s never like you imagine, sweetie. I don’t know what you’re going through right now but… if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
Buffy knew that Willow had nothing but good intentions but she still snorted. “That’s what he said. I’m here.”
“Buffy, I know I’m the last person to say this but… you have to lighten up. I bet that it’s all going to be alright. You just have to talk to him. It’s not going to get back to… normal if you sit here brooding. That’s a thing for soulful vampires, not kickass Slayers.”
This time, a grin spread across Buffy’s lips. Something very rare at that. “If I were gay, I’d kiss you right now.”
“You still can, in a non-gay best friends kind of way.” Willow matched her smile, raising her glass. “Here’s to us, stupid vampires, and bitches from hell that try to erase the world.”
“I drink to that.” Buffy clinked her glass against Willows, taking another sip from her wine.
When Willow had left, Buffy snuggled into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She couldn’t sleep right away, tossing and turning about in her bed. Even after the girl talk, she was too worked up about the whole thing with Spike.
And when her eyes finally flickered shut, dreams came to haunt her. The dreams she had learned to ignore those past ten years. Dreams about Spike going up in flames. Dreams where he yelled at her, telling her what a bitch she was. That she had just used him all those years, that she still didn’t believe that he’d changed for her. That her words meant nothing because Dawn had been right, she wasn’t capable of loving anyone.
With a yelp, Buffy sat up in bed, sweat beading on her forehead. What if those dreams weren’t just dreams? What if they were true?
***
there should be sunshine after rain
these things have always been the same
so why worry now’
- “why worry” by dire straits
When they had moved the Slayer Council into the boarding school, Buffy had taken the old principal’s apartment on the top floor. It wasn’t really a penthouse but it was the only thing occupying that floor.
The three rooms, kitchen and bath were more than enough for her but it was still nice to have her own space for a change. She had never had a place on her own except for those few weeks she’d spent in Los Angeles after she had stabbed Angel. After that, there had always been people around her. At home, at college, and especially when Giles had started bringing Slayer-trainees to her place.
Now she welcomed the few moments of solitude she got.
Her place was cold. Buffy didn’t bother to switch on the heating for she was out most of the time. A shiver ran down her spine when she closed the door behind her. She wasn’t quite sure if it was all due to the temperature.
She still couldn’t believe what had happened tonight. First, being captured by Kaileq, and then being rescued by Spike who she’d thought dead for ten years. Not only was he back, but there was also a big honking threat coming up again which they had no idea how to fight.
It never rained, it poured. And she was drowning in it.
Pushing herself off the wall, she made her way to the kitchen. There wasn’t much in it except for the basics: table, cupboard, stove and a fridge. Buffy went to the latter and took out an already open bottle of red wine, then a glass from the cupboard. She sat down in front of the small TV in the living room and flipped it on.
She didn’t care much for the show that was running, anything was welcome. Of course, the program didn’t help in distracting her from the burning questions. So yeah, Spike had answered some of them but she felt that there was something else. Something that he didn’t tell her.
There was a knock on the door and Buffy flinched, almost spilling her wine while she poured herself a glass. “Come in.”
It was Willow. She stuck her head through the door, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, Buffy. Can I come in?”
“Sure. You want a glass?” Buffy pointed at the bottle.
“Yeah, thanks.”
When Buffy came back with another glass for her friend, Willow stood by the window, looking out into the approaching morning.
“What’s going on?” Buffy already knew why her friend was here. They had been through too much together for her not to know.
“How are you doing, Buffy?” Willow turned and sat down next to her friend.
“How do you think I’m doing?” It came out a lot harsher than Buffy had intended, and it was the witch’s turn to flinch. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m just… I’m confused. This whole thing…” Her words trailed off and she took a sip from her wine.
“Did you talk yet?”
“Yeah, I just came up from his room.”
“What did he say?” Willow started to sound a little impatient.
“He told me about… what happened. How he came back and everything.”
“Why did he stay away for so long?”
Buffy remained silent for a long moment. “I guess… that’s mostly my fault.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I… he came to Rome when I was with the Immortal.”
Willow shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. “You mean that kept him away for so long? That doesn’t sound much like him.”
Buffy nodded sadly. “I know. It’s just…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, suddenly feeling very tired. “I told him that I love him.”
“What? When?” In an instant, Willow was at the edge of her seat.
“Back in Sunnydale when… right before the end,” the Slayer admitted hesitatingly, sadness tinging her voice.
“You never told me about that.” The red head was clearly disappointed.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just… when I told him he said ‘No, you don’t. But thanks for saying it.’” Buffy did her best, mimicking Spike’s accent. “And I guess when he found out that I was with the Immortal… it proved his point, you know?”
There was a long pause between them. Buffy’s eyes were focused on the sparkling red liquid in her glass while Willow was watching her. “Did it? I mean… was he right?”
“Why don’t you ask me if I love him, Will? I’m too tired for twisted questions.”
“Fine. Do you love him?” There was something in Willow’s voice that let her know that she wouldn’t like either answer.
“I don’t know.” Buffy shrugged. “We are… complicated. There was… so much between us that… it was bad. Really bad. And then… he changed. He got a soul. For me. He went through hell and back just for me. How… how can I not… love him?”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
Again, Buffy remained silent for a long while. “Yes, I guess I do.”
Willow smiled at her almost triumphantly. “I knew it.”
“What?”
“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worked up about this.”
Buffy nodded, caught in the act. “Doesn’t change anything. He didn’t believe me then, and he won’t believe me now. Also… I don’t know if he still loves me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He doesn’t look at me like he used to. And when… he hugged me just now… it felt cold, you know? Even when he… even without the soul, he never felt cold. It is as if there is something missing. I can’t really explain but… something isn’t right. I just don’t know what it is.”
Willow laid a hand on her arm. “You haven’t seen each other in ten years. There a lot you need to catch up on. You should talk to him again; tell him how you feel. Things will work out. Just… give him some time to adjust.”
“What if we don’t have the time? With what’s coming up?”
“Than we’ll do what we always do: We fight, we win, and then we buy new shoes.”
If Buffy could rely on one thing, it was that Willow’s chipper mood was never lost on her. For the first time tonight, she was able to smile again.
“Thanks, Will.” She laid her hand on Willow’s but pulled back after a brief second. “I just missed him so much, you know? All those years…I wished I had told him sooner, so he’d believe me. I thought about how it might be if he ever came back. And…it was never like this.”
Willow smiled that genuine smile of hers. “It’s never like you imagine, sweetie. I don’t know what you’re going through right now but… if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
Buffy knew that Willow had nothing but good intentions but she still snorted. “That’s what he said. I’m here.”
“Buffy, I know I’m the last person to say this but… you have to lighten up. I bet that it’s all going to be alright. You just have to talk to him. It’s not going to get back to… normal if you sit here brooding. That’s a thing for soulful vampires, not kickass Slayers.”
This time, a grin spread across Buffy’s lips. Something very rare at that. “If I were gay, I’d kiss you right now.”
“You still can, in a non-gay best friends kind of way.” Willow matched her smile, raising her glass. “Here’s to us, stupid vampires, and bitches from hell that try to erase the world.”
“I drink to that.” Buffy clinked her glass against Willows, taking another sip from her wine.
When Willow had left, Buffy snuggled into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She couldn’t sleep right away, tossing and turning about in her bed. Even after the girl talk, she was too worked up about the whole thing with Spike.
And when her eyes finally flickered shut, dreams came to haunt her. The dreams she had learned to ignore those past ten years. Dreams about Spike going up in flames. Dreams where he yelled at her, telling her what a bitch she was. That she had just used him all those years, that she still didn’t believe that he’d changed for her. That her words meant nothing because Dawn had been right, she wasn’t capable of loving anyone.
With a yelp, Buffy sat up in bed, sweat beading on her forehead. What if those dreams weren’t just dreams? What if they were true?
***
Chapter 05
Chapter 05
‘the same old fears and the same old crimes
we haven't changed since ancient times’
- “iron hand” by dire straits
Night had fallen again. Somehow the days seemed a lot shorter lately.
The group of senior Slayers had gathered in the conference room again. This time, it was Buffy who sat at the head of the table. Spike stood in his corner.
“Hi everyone. As Willow told you last night, we got news that the Secte Noir is trying to wreak some havoc. Although we know who they are, we hardly know anything about them. Tonight, we’re going to check out their headquarters, see what resources they have. I know it sounds boring but we need to know what we’re going up against.”
There was quiet murmur in the room, some approving nods and some rolled eyes.
“We’ll go there in teams of two. Each team will get a target. You will not interfere, just watch and…investigate. I don’t want them to know that we’re after them. They might already know that but I don’t want anyone to get hurt. If these guys are really as strong as we believe we’ll need all available manpower we can find.” At that last sentence, Buffy glanced up at Spike who was staring blankly into space. “You know who your partners are. We meet in the parking garage in thirty minutes.”
The girls rose and left the room, talking about their current mission. Some of them clearly psyched about getting to snoop around the evil stronghold.
Buffy was the last one remaining in the room, and to her surprise, so was Spike.
“Do I need to get a partner or is that a girls-only thing?” He asked, cocking his head to one side. It was the first time he actually looked at her. They hadn’t even seen each other all day.
“You’re coming along?” The Slayer couldn’t deny that she hadn’t expected that from him.
“I’m not here to sit in my room, playing Soduko, and missing out on all the fun.” He pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps towards her. He had his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his pants, looking very uneasy.
Buffy shifted a little uncomfortably from one leg to the other. “You can come with me if you want.” Why was this so hard? Why were they acting like some shy high school kids?
“Sure.” He shrugged as if he didn’t really care. “Thirty minutes?”
The Slayer blinked, slightly taken aback by his nonchalance. “Yeah.”
Spike nodded. “All right. See you then.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.
Buffy stared after him in surprise. What the hell was going on with him? The Spike she’d known back in the days would have been on this mission like a rat on rice. And now he was…different. He hardly ever looked at her, was as monosyllabilic as vampirely possible, and didn’t seem to care much about being around her. Something was wrong. And she needed to figure out what it was.
*
Spike was leaning against the wall by the door to the stairwell when Buffy came down into the parking garage. She had changed into what looked like black fatigues, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
All the other Slayers were gathered around two black minivans, some of them eyeing him skeptically. He wondeed whether they knew who he was. They probably did. They were Slayers after all, and he had killed two of their kind in his days.
“All right, girls. Let’s ride. But remember, don’t interfere. It’s not doing anyone any good if you get yourselves in trouble.”
Buffy handed every other girl a piece of paper with their target. Then, they separated, hopping into the vans. The Slayer turned towards Spike.
“Thought you were coming along.”
“I am. But I’m not going to ride in a bus full of girls. We’re going to take my bike. Come on,” he nodded towards his motorbike a few parking spots away.
“I’m not going to ride with you on that thing! I might have died twice but I’m not suicidal. I know how you drive.”
Spike squinted over his shoulder for he had already turned towards his bike. “A couple of years back, you didn’t complain all that much.” There was an odd tone in his voice, something that made that sentence into more than a simple statement.
“A couple of years back I thought I knew you,” Buffy shot back, her voice tight and clipped. She glared at him with enough anger to make him take another step towards the bike. Then he just shrugged a shoulder.
“Suit yourself.”
It wasn’t until he had already started the engine, that Spike felt Buffy’s arms slip around his waist.
“Where to?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to figure out the look on her face. She gave him the address, her tone businesslike and almost cold. It was a sharp contrast to her warm body pressed up against his.
Now this was going to be fun.
*
Spike pulled his motorbike to the curb a block away from huge industrial complex a little off downtown. It had taken them less than ten minutes and three red lights to get there, and now that he stopped, it took Buffy a little longer than necessary to let go of him.
“So what are we going to do? Prowl up and down the sidewalk until someone in a black hat shows up?” Spike said, stashing the keys into his pant pocket.
The vampire wore the same clothes Buffy had seen on him yesterday, with the heavy gun strapped to his left thigh. This time, he wore his pseudo-Kevlar vest underneath the long-sleeved shirt, a black leather jacket above it to conceal another weapon of some sort. If she had to figure out what this was all about, she would have to start with the new toys.
“No. We know who these guys are. But they are… like Al Capone. You can’t link anything to them until you catch them in the act.”
“You’re not going to get to them through tax evasion, are you?”
Buffy glowered at him, then dismissed the comment with a shrug. “We’re going to sneak and peak, secret mission style.”
For a brief moment, a memory flashed through her mind. The memory of a night shortly before the Hellmouth had collapsed. She and Spike, standing in her kitchen, him telling her that the night they had spent together just holding one another had terrified him. It had been a weird moment, more awkward than anything she could remember. And they did have a history of weirdness to show for.
Spike rolled his eyes at the apparent lack of action, then shrugged again. “Fine by me.”
Buffy looked at him, trying to get a glimpse behind his façade. She failed. “Good. Come on.”
They crossed the street to the building in silence. It was a secret mission after all.
The building, all worn brick and pipes, lay in complete darkness. The pale moonlight cast even more shadows into each crook and cranny, giving the former factory a slightly spooky texture.
“Why is it that you bad guys always set up shop in old factories? Is that in the secret handbook?” the Slayer hushed when they approached what appeared to be a utility entrance.
“Evil scheming 101,” Spike shot back, glancing down at her. If she hadn’t seen him during the last twenty-four hours, she would have thought that he smirked at her. “What exactly are we looking for anyway?”
“Anything. That’s kind of the point. This is what we believe the strongholds of the Secte, where they hold their rituals or whatever. Anything can be useful.”
Spike looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Sounds like fun.” His tone was dry, almost bored.
“Believe you me. When this thing goes down, we’re going to have more fun than we can deal with.”
“That’s what I’m here for. We done talking? Can we go sneak and peak now?”
“Hey, you’re the one asking the questions,” Buffy all but snapped. His weird, yet indefinable attitude was annoying the hell out of her.
As a response, Spike held a hand out in an ‘after you’ gesture, and Buffy pulled the door open, slipping into the building.
The place was pitch black, somewhere deeper in the darkness a water pipe leaked in a steady rhythm. Buffy almost gave a yelp when she felt Spike’s hand slip into hers, his fingers giving hers a light squeeze. Although she couldn’t see him, she felt him stepping closer to her, then his breath against her ear.
“Hold on to my hand. I see better in the dark than you.”
A shudder ran down her spine at the low rumble of his voice. There had been times when he’d been able to get her off just by talking to her.
Buffy just nodded for an answer, knowing that he’d see it. Since they wouldn’t do her any good anyway, she closed her eyes, letting her other senses take over. She let Spike lead her down a corridor and down a flight of stairs. Whenever she was about to trip over something or whenever there was any sort of obstacle in her way, he gave her hand a slight squeeze to warn her. Sometimes he took hold of her forearm as well to guide her.
“Can I ask you something?” Buffy’s voice sounded entirely too loud in the silence of the abandoned building.
“Now?” Spike hissed, his voice impossibly quiet.
“Yeah.”
“Shoot.”
“Where did you get all that stuff, the vest and that gun?”
“Told you, China.”
His hand closed around her biceps and he lifted her off her feet and over a fallen beam. The Slayer fought down a yelp of surprise. “How does that gun work? Looks like some sort of Underworld rip-off.”
“It is.” She heard another smirk in his voice. “But it’s shooting holy water instead of UV rounds. Damn efficient. I could get you one.”
“No thanks, I’m sticking to good old staking.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Where are we?”
“Heading for the basement. I can hear voices somewhere below.”
Silence fell between for a moment before Buffy spoke again. “And that vest?”
“Do we really have to get into this now? We don’t know who’s down there. They might hear you blabbing.”
“If they can hear us, they already know we’re inside. We might as well talk about this now. And since you don’t talk to me, I have to ask.”
Buffy felt him tense at her side, his hand pressing down on hers with a little more force than necessary.
“The vest stops the bullets. Stakes, too.”
“What about arrows? Bolts?”
“With enough force, they go through. If you’re so intent to find a way to off me, just cut off my head.” Spike’s voice had become harder with an almost annoyed impatience.
“I’m not intent to kill you. I’m trying to find out what going on with you.”
Spike let go off her hand, leaving Buffy staggering a little in the darkness. “Nothing’s going on with me. Just stop asking these bleedin’ questions.”
On instinct, the Slayer reached out, grapping Spike by the collar of his jacket. “Then why are you acting so weird?”
Silence. Thick, uncomfortable, choking silence.
Buffy heard Spike shifting in the darkness beside her, then he cleared his voice almost inaudibly.
“I’m not acting… weird.” He almost spat the last word out as though it was venom on his tongue. “Now shut up.”
Buffy was about to protest when his hand clamped down over her mouth, blocking half her airway.
A light appeared at the end of the corridor they had been in. At first, it was a vague glow in the darkness, then it took the form of a door opening. Voices poured out of the room beyond. The sound carried the creepy quality of a chant, a ritual of some sort in a language Buffy didn’t understand.
Spike dragged her off to one side into another corridor, pressing her against the wall, shielding her body with his.
If he hadn’t been keeping her mouth covered with his hand, she would have asked what the hell he was doing. And then she saw a figure appearing in the spot they had been in less than a second ago. She couldn’t make out who or what it was, she only saw a dark shadow in some sort of hooded robe.
Buffy closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. But given the fact that Spike held her pressed against the wall, one of his knees between hers, one hand over her mouth, the other somewhere at her hips, it wasn’t all that easy.
They had shared a lot of moments just like that, huddled in a dark corner somewhere, making out. It had never been in the sort of cute, ‘we’re in love and can’t let go of one another’ sort of way. It had always been raw, and needy, and dangerous, and oh so satisfying.
Memories of these moments made her nerves tingle, her senses finally kicking into overdrive. She could smell the scent of his skin, a mixture of soap, cigarettes and something unique to him she’d always found more than enticing. She also smelled his leather jacket, another familiar smell. She felt the coolness of his body through his clothing, and how he slowly warmed with the heat radiating from her.
Buffy tried to suck in a breath through her nose, pressing even more into him, reacting to his closeness. On its own accord, one of her knees went up between his, and he drew in a shuddering breath.
And then, all hell broke loose.
***
we haven't changed since ancient times’
- “iron hand” by dire straits
Night had fallen again. Somehow the days seemed a lot shorter lately.
The group of senior Slayers had gathered in the conference room again. This time, it was Buffy who sat at the head of the table. Spike stood in his corner.
“Hi everyone. As Willow told you last night, we got news that the Secte Noir is trying to wreak some havoc. Although we know who they are, we hardly know anything about them. Tonight, we’re going to check out their headquarters, see what resources they have. I know it sounds boring but we need to know what we’re going up against.”
There was quiet murmur in the room, some approving nods and some rolled eyes.
“We’ll go there in teams of two. Each team will get a target. You will not interfere, just watch and…investigate. I don’t want them to know that we’re after them. They might already know that but I don’t want anyone to get hurt. If these guys are really as strong as we believe we’ll need all available manpower we can find.” At that last sentence, Buffy glanced up at Spike who was staring blankly into space. “You know who your partners are. We meet in the parking garage in thirty minutes.”
The girls rose and left the room, talking about their current mission. Some of them clearly psyched about getting to snoop around the evil stronghold.
Buffy was the last one remaining in the room, and to her surprise, so was Spike.
“Do I need to get a partner or is that a girls-only thing?” He asked, cocking his head to one side. It was the first time he actually looked at her. They hadn’t even seen each other all day.
“You’re coming along?” The Slayer couldn’t deny that she hadn’t expected that from him.
“I’m not here to sit in my room, playing Soduko, and missing out on all the fun.” He pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps towards her. He had his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his pants, looking very uneasy.
Buffy shifted a little uncomfortably from one leg to the other. “You can come with me if you want.” Why was this so hard? Why were they acting like some shy high school kids?
“Sure.” He shrugged as if he didn’t really care. “Thirty minutes?”
The Slayer blinked, slightly taken aback by his nonchalance. “Yeah.”
Spike nodded. “All right. See you then.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.
Buffy stared after him in surprise. What the hell was going on with him? The Spike she’d known back in the days would have been on this mission like a rat on rice. And now he was…different. He hardly ever looked at her, was as monosyllabilic as vampirely possible, and didn’t seem to care much about being around her. Something was wrong. And she needed to figure out what it was.
*
Spike was leaning against the wall by the door to the stairwell when Buffy came down into the parking garage. She had changed into what looked like black fatigues, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.
All the other Slayers were gathered around two black minivans, some of them eyeing him skeptically. He wondeed whether they knew who he was. They probably did. They were Slayers after all, and he had killed two of their kind in his days.
“All right, girls. Let’s ride. But remember, don’t interfere. It’s not doing anyone any good if you get yourselves in trouble.”
Buffy handed every other girl a piece of paper with their target. Then, they separated, hopping into the vans. The Slayer turned towards Spike.
“Thought you were coming along.”
“I am. But I’m not going to ride in a bus full of girls. We’re going to take my bike. Come on,” he nodded towards his motorbike a few parking spots away.
“I’m not going to ride with you on that thing! I might have died twice but I’m not suicidal. I know how you drive.”
Spike squinted over his shoulder for he had already turned towards his bike. “A couple of years back, you didn’t complain all that much.” There was an odd tone in his voice, something that made that sentence into more than a simple statement.
“A couple of years back I thought I knew you,” Buffy shot back, her voice tight and clipped. She glared at him with enough anger to make him take another step towards the bike. Then he just shrugged a shoulder.
“Suit yourself.”
It wasn’t until he had already started the engine, that Spike felt Buffy’s arms slip around his waist.
“Where to?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to figure out the look on her face. She gave him the address, her tone businesslike and almost cold. It was a sharp contrast to her warm body pressed up against his.
Now this was going to be fun.
*
Spike pulled his motorbike to the curb a block away from huge industrial complex a little off downtown. It had taken them less than ten minutes and three red lights to get there, and now that he stopped, it took Buffy a little longer than necessary to let go of him.
“So what are we going to do? Prowl up and down the sidewalk until someone in a black hat shows up?” Spike said, stashing the keys into his pant pocket.
The vampire wore the same clothes Buffy had seen on him yesterday, with the heavy gun strapped to his left thigh. This time, he wore his pseudo-Kevlar vest underneath the long-sleeved shirt, a black leather jacket above it to conceal another weapon of some sort. If she had to figure out what this was all about, she would have to start with the new toys.
“No. We know who these guys are. But they are… like Al Capone. You can’t link anything to them until you catch them in the act.”
“You’re not going to get to them through tax evasion, are you?”
Buffy glowered at him, then dismissed the comment with a shrug. “We’re going to sneak and peak, secret mission style.”
For a brief moment, a memory flashed through her mind. The memory of a night shortly before the Hellmouth had collapsed. She and Spike, standing in her kitchen, him telling her that the night they had spent together just holding one another had terrified him. It had been a weird moment, more awkward than anything she could remember. And they did have a history of weirdness to show for.
Spike rolled his eyes at the apparent lack of action, then shrugged again. “Fine by me.”
Buffy looked at him, trying to get a glimpse behind his façade. She failed. “Good. Come on.”
They crossed the street to the building in silence. It was a secret mission after all.
The building, all worn brick and pipes, lay in complete darkness. The pale moonlight cast even more shadows into each crook and cranny, giving the former factory a slightly spooky texture.
“Why is it that you bad guys always set up shop in old factories? Is that in the secret handbook?” the Slayer hushed when they approached what appeared to be a utility entrance.
“Evil scheming 101,” Spike shot back, glancing down at her. If she hadn’t seen him during the last twenty-four hours, she would have thought that he smirked at her. “What exactly are we looking for anyway?”
“Anything. That’s kind of the point. This is what we believe the strongholds of the Secte, where they hold their rituals or whatever. Anything can be useful.”
Spike looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Sounds like fun.” His tone was dry, almost bored.
“Believe you me. When this thing goes down, we’re going to have more fun than we can deal with.”
“That’s what I’m here for. We done talking? Can we go sneak and peak now?”
“Hey, you’re the one asking the questions,” Buffy all but snapped. His weird, yet indefinable attitude was annoying the hell out of her.
As a response, Spike held a hand out in an ‘after you’ gesture, and Buffy pulled the door open, slipping into the building.
The place was pitch black, somewhere deeper in the darkness a water pipe leaked in a steady rhythm. Buffy almost gave a yelp when she felt Spike’s hand slip into hers, his fingers giving hers a light squeeze. Although she couldn’t see him, she felt him stepping closer to her, then his breath against her ear.
“Hold on to my hand. I see better in the dark than you.”
A shudder ran down her spine at the low rumble of his voice. There had been times when he’d been able to get her off just by talking to her.
Buffy just nodded for an answer, knowing that he’d see it. Since they wouldn’t do her any good anyway, she closed her eyes, letting her other senses take over. She let Spike lead her down a corridor and down a flight of stairs. Whenever she was about to trip over something or whenever there was any sort of obstacle in her way, he gave her hand a slight squeeze to warn her. Sometimes he took hold of her forearm as well to guide her.
“Can I ask you something?” Buffy’s voice sounded entirely too loud in the silence of the abandoned building.
“Now?” Spike hissed, his voice impossibly quiet.
“Yeah.”
“Shoot.”
“Where did you get all that stuff, the vest and that gun?”
“Told you, China.”
His hand closed around her biceps and he lifted her off her feet and over a fallen beam. The Slayer fought down a yelp of surprise. “How does that gun work? Looks like some sort of Underworld rip-off.”
“It is.” She heard another smirk in his voice. “But it’s shooting holy water instead of UV rounds. Damn efficient. I could get you one.”
“No thanks, I’m sticking to good old staking.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Where are we?”
“Heading for the basement. I can hear voices somewhere below.”
Silence fell between for a moment before Buffy spoke again. “And that vest?”
“Do we really have to get into this now? We don’t know who’s down there. They might hear you blabbing.”
“If they can hear us, they already know we’re inside. We might as well talk about this now. And since you don’t talk to me, I have to ask.”
Buffy felt him tense at her side, his hand pressing down on hers with a little more force than necessary.
“The vest stops the bullets. Stakes, too.”
“What about arrows? Bolts?”
“With enough force, they go through. If you’re so intent to find a way to off me, just cut off my head.” Spike’s voice had become harder with an almost annoyed impatience.
“I’m not intent to kill you. I’m trying to find out what going on with you.”
Spike let go off her hand, leaving Buffy staggering a little in the darkness. “Nothing’s going on with me. Just stop asking these bleedin’ questions.”
On instinct, the Slayer reached out, grapping Spike by the collar of his jacket. “Then why are you acting so weird?”
Silence. Thick, uncomfortable, choking silence.
Buffy heard Spike shifting in the darkness beside her, then he cleared his voice almost inaudibly.
“I’m not acting… weird.” He almost spat the last word out as though it was venom on his tongue. “Now shut up.”
Buffy was about to protest when his hand clamped down over her mouth, blocking half her airway.
A light appeared at the end of the corridor they had been in. At first, it was a vague glow in the darkness, then it took the form of a door opening. Voices poured out of the room beyond. The sound carried the creepy quality of a chant, a ritual of some sort in a language Buffy didn’t understand.
Spike dragged her off to one side into another corridor, pressing her against the wall, shielding her body with his.
If he hadn’t been keeping her mouth covered with his hand, she would have asked what the hell he was doing. And then she saw a figure appearing in the spot they had been in less than a second ago. She couldn’t make out who or what it was, she only saw a dark shadow in some sort of hooded robe.
Buffy closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. But given the fact that Spike held her pressed against the wall, one of his knees between hers, one hand over her mouth, the other somewhere at her hips, it wasn’t all that easy.
They had shared a lot of moments just like that, huddled in a dark corner somewhere, making out. It had never been in the sort of cute, ‘we’re in love and can’t let go of one another’ sort of way. It had always been raw, and needy, and dangerous, and oh so satisfying.
Memories of these moments made her nerves tingle, her senses finally kicking into overdrive. She could smell the scent of his skin, a mixture of soap, cigarettes and something unique to him she’d always found more than enticing. She also smelled his leather jacket, another familiar smell. She felt the coolness of his body through his clothing, and how he slowly warmed with the heat radiating from her.
Buffy tried to suck in a breath through her nose, pressing even more into him, reacting to his closeness. On its own accord, one of her knees went up between his, and he drew in a shuddering breath.
And then, all hell broke loose.
***
Chapter 06
Chapter 06
‘strap hanging gunshot sound
doors slamming on the overground’
- “lions” by dire straits
Buffy had forgotten about the hooded figure in the hall not ten feet away from them. Upon the almost guttural sound Spike had made, its head had whipped around, staring directly in their direction.
Then, it threw its head back and let out the most ear-piercing shriek of alarm Buffy had ever heard.
Spike’s hand withdrew from her mouth, and they both made a feeble attempt to shield their ears from the horrible sound. It echoed off the walls, vibrating in Buffy’s head, making her teeth ache.
Voices rose from down the hall, the direction the light had come from. A clatter, when someone knocked something over; footsteps on concrete. Buffy heard the door barge open, banging hard against the wall behind it. Someone called out to the hooded figure and it finally fell silent.
Buffy’s ears were still ringing with the sudden silence when Spike was yanked away from her and into the darkness. Her eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the lack of light, and so he simply vanished from her sight. She heard him curse violently, then a shuffle of feet followed by the sound of fists connecting with flesh.
“Spike?” she called out to him, getting into a fighting stance.
“Vampires,” Spike growled from somewhere in the darkness, his voice strangled. “Three or four.”
“Might want to make use of that gun now,” Buffy shot in his general direction when strong hands closed around her collar, yanking her off her feet. In her fall, she managed to kick at her attacker’s legs, connecting hard with his knees.
The vampire staggered to one side, giving the Slayer time to stand up again. “God, I hate playing hide and stake.” She pulled her stake from its loop on her belt, readying herself for the fight.
Somewhere to her left, she heard Spike’s weapon bark twice. The vampire he’d been fighting let out a surprised yelp before he exploded into a cloud of dust.
“One down,” his voice sounded almost happy. “Three to go.”
Buffy didn’t have time to be happy with him. Her attacker made an attempt to go for her throat again. She slapped his arms away, jabbing him in the stomach. He doubled over, leaving his back open for her stake.
“Two to go,” she informed her companion when she plunged the stake through the vampire’s heart.
“One,” Spike called back to her. She heard him shuffling around in the darkness. “Where’s the other one?”
“You sure it was four?”
“Yeah.”
“Another question, where’s Darth Shrieker?” Buffy backed away from the remains of her attacker until she bumped into Spike.
“Good question.” She felt him shrug against her shoulder.
Although she could still hardly see anything, she made out a shadow rushing toward them.
“Spike,” she tried to warn him but it was too late. The hooded figure that had almost busted her eardrums crashed into her, driving her to the ground, air escaping her lungs at the impact. She sucked in a breath and with it the smell of the thing’s foul breath. Her stomach pivoted inside her and a wave of nausea flooded her already hampered senses.
“Buffy?” The weight of the creature was taken off her.
“I’m okay,” she managed. Spike’s hand took hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet again. “What is that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
And then, the creature was on them again, tackling them to the floor. Its hooded cloak shrouded Buffy’s head somehow, taking away the rest of her vision, filling her nose with that foul stench again.
She tried to struggle her way out of the heavy cloth, legs kicking and arms flailing. Fingers closed around her throat, claw-like fingernails digging into her neck, nearly crushing her windpipe.
Buffy tried to choke out Spike’s name but failed miserably. Her vision started to blur with the lack of oxygen, even darker spots dancing in front of her eyes.
She lunged out with one arm, stake in hand, trying to fight off unconsciousness. The wood pierced through something soft, and Spike all but howled in pain. In their tangle of vampire, Slayer, creature and dark cloak, she had hit him right in the soft spot beneath his collarbone.
The Slayer gasped for air when the hand let her free again. From the corner of her eyes, she saw shadows struggling nearby. At least she was able to make out Spike’s pale skin to see that he had the upper hand.
The vampire kept pummeling away at the thing, his wound not seeming to bother him all that much. Or maybe the pain spurred his anger. One never knew with vampires, especially not with this one.
Somewhere between the hits, he managed to pull his gun again, releasing two bullets into the thing’s head. Although smoke curled from the wound, the thing didn’t stop fighting back.
“Buffy, can you hear me?” he growled, his demon clawing its way to the surface, morphing his face into a hideous mask.
Buffy barely managed a reply, regaining her senses slowly.
Voices from the door at his back drew Spike’s attention away from the creature. Something howled beyond the door. Not like the ear piercing shriek but a wolfish howl filled with nothing but rage.
“Buffy, whatever this is, it’s got back up. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Finally, she was able to get up again.
Only to be knocked off her feet again when the entire building shook with a violent tremour. The wolfish howl faded away beneath the high-pitched screams of female voices. They weren’t painful screams, they almost sounded like screams of pleasure. (And Buffy knew those all too well.) They howled and mewled and moaned.
The Fates.
It came to Buffy as clear as day. The Secte Noir had awakened the Fates.
“Spike, let’s vamoose.” She struggled to her feet, trying to make out the vampire in the darkness.
“Good plan.” Once more, he reached for her arm and dragged her in the direction they had come from earlier.
They stumbled over the debris, and it was close to a miracle that Buffy didn’t fall. She was the first at the end of the corridor, and pushed the door open. She was already out on the sidewalk, when Spike was yanked back, crashing down to the floor.
Something had taken a hold of his foot, pulling him back inside the building. Since Buffy had staked him in the shoulder, he could only use his right hand to reach for the doorframe, holding on to it as best as he could.
Buffy saw a taloned hand clutching around Spike’s ankle, digging right through the leather of his boot.
The vampire growled, trying to struggle free. “Buffy, the gun.” He twisted and turned to pull his foot out of the thing’s grip.
The Slayer rushed down to him, reaching underneath his jacket for the second weapon. She fumbled a little with it, having no real affection for firearms. Then, she aimed into the darkness, pulling the trigger three times.
Something howled in agony, and the hand withdrew from Spike’s foot. He thudded to the floor, letting out a strangled groan. Then he propped himself up on his good arm and foot, scuttling away from the door.
When Buffy had pushed the door shut again, he sank down on his back, letting out an exhausted breath. “You could’ve hurried. I am quite fond of that foot, you know.”
“Shut up,” she snapped, exhausted anger boiling up inside her. She reached for the communication device clipped to her belt, popping the earpiece into her ear, pushing a button. “HQ, this is Buffy. We need a pick up at the factory. Spike’s wounded.”
“I’m not wounded. It’s just a scrape,” he protested, sitting up.
“You can’t possibly drive that motorcycle. Now shut up.” She listened to the voice in her ear. “Yeah, pick us up ASAP. Thanks. And bring a van.”
Spike tried to get to his feet but his right foot failed him completely. He winced in pain and plopped down on his butt again.
This time, it was Buffy who reached for his arm, pulling him to his feet. She pulled his right arm around her shoulders, helping him hobble back to the motorcycle.
For whatever weird reason, nobody followed them. From what she’d heard inside that building, the Secte Noir had already awakened the Fates. And whatever that hooded creature was, it was certainly up to no good. There was still a vampire unaccounted for, given that Spike really had seen four of them.
Buffy sat him down on the curb, squatting down next to him. “How bad is it?”
“Told you, just a scrape.” Spike brushed her hands away as she tried to get a closer look at the stab wound she’d given him. “As long as my foot is attached to my body, it’s all good.”
Buffy glanced down to where the talons on that thing’s hand had ripped right through the boot. Blood pooled on the sidewalk, pink flesh shining through the tears in the leather.
“Two feet accounted for. Sorry that I staked you.”
Spike shrugged but winced again when he moved his injured shoulder. “Had to happen eventually.” He pressed a hand over the oozing wound. “What the hell was going on in there?”
“My guess? The Fates.”
“Wouldn’t the entire place be shot to hell then? And how come nobody is following us out? Seemed like we barged into something pretty important in there.”
“I have no idea. Don’t even know if I should be happy about it or not.”
Tires screeched somewhere nearby, and a van rounded the corner, skidding a little. It came to a halt not two feet away from Buffy. A young man poked his head out, green eyes gleaming in the light of the streetlamp.
“Someone told me, you needed a ride?” He drawled in a heavy Southern accent.
“Mike,” Buffy beamed at him. “For the first time, I’m actually glad to see you. Care to give us a hand?”
The young man hopped out of the van. He was entirely too well muscled, his dark hair standing off in different directions. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sauntered over to them.
“You must be Spike.” Mike grinned a toothy grin and held out a hand to the vampire.
Spike peered up at the guy, then over to Buffy. He ignored his hand and pushed himself up to his feet. “Nice meeting you, mate,” he all but growled, then limped towards the van. He had his right hand clamped over the hole in his shoulder, trying to keep his weight off his almost shredded foot.
“If you make a dent in the bike, I’m gonna kill you,” the vampire snapped at the larger man when he pushed the motorcycle towards the van.
“Not with that soul o’ yours.” Spike’s hardness rolled off Mike like water off a duck. The young man pulled a rail from the back of the van, then pushed the bike up and into the van with so much ease it looked as if he’d never done anything else. “Now, all abroad.”
They got into the van and Mike took them back to headquarters. Once he had pulled into the parking garage, Spike pushed the back door open, limping out of the van. “Got someone with a first aid kit around here?”
“First floor, to the right. Ask for Anna.” Buffy’s voice sounded flat; once more her thoughts were flooded with confusion.
She watched Spike hobbling awkwardly on one and a half feet to the stairwell. What had happened in the last fifteen minutes? Since Mike had arrived to pick them up, he’d suddenly acted even weirder than before.
During the fight, things had almost gone back to normal. Well, as normal as her life was anyway. It had been like in the old days. She and Spike, side by side, having each other’s backs. With all the weirdness of the last thirty-six hours, it had almost been a welcome distraction. And now…
“What’s with him?” Mike came up beside her after he’d pulled the motorcycle out of the van. “He’s the guy who brought down the other Hellmouth, right?”
“The one and only,” Buffy muttered under her breath. “Thanks for picking us up, Mike.” She shot him a wary smile over her shoulder before she headed for the stairs as well.
***
doors slamming on the overground’
- “lions” by dire straits
Buffy had forgotten about the hooded figure in the hall not ten feet away from them. Upon the almost guttural sound Spike had made, its head had whipped around, staring directly in their direction.
Then, it threw its head back and let out the most ear-piercing shriek of alarm Buffy had ever heard.
Spike’s hand withdrew from her mouth, and they both made a feeble attempt to shield their ears from the horrible sound. It echoed off the walls, vibrating in Buffy’s head, making her teeth ache.
Voices rose from down the hall, the direction the light had come from. A clatter, when someone knocked something over; footsteps on concrete. Buffy heard the door barge open, banging hard against the wall behind it. Someone called out to the hooded figure and it finally fell silent.
Buffy’s ears were still ringing with the sudden silence when Spike was yanked away from her and into the darkness. Her eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the lack of light, and so he simply vanished from her sight. She heard him curse violently, then a shuffle of feet followed by the sound of fists connecting with flesh.
“Spike?” she called out to him, getting into a fighting stance.
“Vampires,” Spike growled from somewhere in the darkness, his voice strangled. “Three or four.”
“Might want to make use of that gun now,” Buffy shot in his general direction when strong hands closed around her collar, yanking her off her feet. In her fall, she managed to kick at her attacker’s legs, connecting hard with his knees.
The vampire staggered to one side, giving the Slayer time to stand up again. “God, I hate playing hide and stake.” She pulled her stake from its loop on her belt, readying herself for the fight.
Somewhere to her left, she heard Spike’s weapon bark twice. The vampire he’d been fighting let out a surprised yelp before he exploded into a cloud of dust.
“One down,” his voice sounded almost happy. “Three to go.”
Buffy didn’t have time to be happy with him. Her attacker made an attempt to go for her throat again. She slapped his arms away, jabbing him in the stomach. He doubled over, leaving his back open for her stake.
“Two to go,” she informed her companion when she plunged the stake through the vampire’s heart.
“One,” Spike called back to her. She heard him shuffling around in the darkness. “Where’s the other one?”
“You sure it was four?”
“Yeah.”
“Another question, where’s Darth Shrieker?” Buffy backed away from the remains of her attacker until she bumped into Spike.
“Good question.” She felt him shrug against her shoulder.
Although she could still hardly see anything, she made out a shadow rushing toward them.
“Spike,” she tried to warn him but it was too late. The hooded figure that had almost busted her eardrums crashed into her, driving her to the ground, air escaping her lungs at the impact. She sucked in a breath and with it the smell of the thing’s foul breath. Her stomach pivoted inside her and a wave of nausea flooded her already hampered senses.
“Buffy?” The weight of the creature was taken off her.
“I’m okay,” she managed. Spike’s hand took hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet again. “What is that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
And then, the creature was on them again, tackling them to the floor. Its hooded cloak shrouded Buffy’s head somehow, taking away the rest of her vision, filling her nose with that foul stench again.
She tried to struggle her way out of the heavy cloth, legs kicking and arms flailing. Fingers closed around her throat, claw-like fingernails digging into her neck, nearly crushing her windpipe.
Buffy tried to choke out Spike’s name but failed miserably. Her vision started to blur with the lack of oxygen, even darker spots dancing in front of her eyes.
She lunged out with one arm, stake in hand, trying to fight off unconsciousness. The wood pierced through something soft, and Spike all but howled in pain. In their tangle of vampire, Slayer, creature and dark cloak, she had hit him right in the soft spot beneath his collarbone.
The Slayer gasped for air when the hand let her free again. From the corner of her eyes, she saw shadows struggling nearby. At least she was able to make out Spike’s pale skin to see that he had the upper hand.
The vampire kept pummeling away at the thing, his wound not seeming to bother him all that much. Or maybe the pain spurred his anger. One never knew with vampires, especially not with this one.
Somewhere between the hits, he managed to pull his gun again, releasing two bullets into the thing’s head. Although smoke curled from the wound, the thing didn’t stop fighting back.
“Buffy, can you hear me?” he growled, his demon clawing its way to the surface, morphing his face into a hideous mask.
Buffy barely managed a reply, regaining her senses slowly.
Voices from the door at his back drew Spike’s attention away from the creature. Something howled beyond the door. Not like the ear piercing shriek but a wolfish howl filled with nothing but rage.
“Buffy, whatever this is, it’s got back up. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Finally, she was able to get up again.
Only to be knocked off her feet again when the entire building shook with a violent tremour. The wolfish howl faded away beneath the high-pitched screams of female voices. They weren’t painful screams, they almost sounded like screams of pleasure. (And Buffy knew those all too well.) They howled and mewled and moaned.
The Fates.
It came to Buffy as clear as day. The Secte Noir had awakened the Fates.
“Spike, let’s vamoose.” She struggled to her feet, trying to make out the vampire in the darkness.
“Good plan.” Once more, he reached for her arm and dragged her in the direction they had come from earlier.
They stumbled over the debris, and it was close to a miracle that Buffy didn’t fall. She was the first at the end of the corridor, and pushed the door open. She was already out on the sidewalk, when Spike was yanked back, crashing down to the floor.
Something had taken a hold of his foot, pulling him back inside the building. Since Buffy had staked him in the shoulder, he could only use his right hand to reach for the doorframe, holding on to it as best as he could.
Buffy saw a taloned hand clutching around Spike’s ankle, digging right through the leather of his boot.
The vampire growled, trying to struggle free. “Buffy, the gun.” He twisted and turned to pull his foot out of the thing’s grip.
The Slayer rushed down to him, reaching underneath his jacket for the second weapon. She fumbled a little with it, having no real affection for firearms. Then, she aimed into the darkness, pulling the trigger three times.
Something howled in agony, and the hand withdrew from Spike’s foot. He thudded to the floor, letting out a strangled groan. Then he propped himself up on his good arm and foot, scuttling away from the door.
When Buffy had pushed the door shut again, he sank down on his back, letting out an exhausted breath. “You could’ve hurried. I am quite fond of that foot, you know.”
“Shut up,” she snapped, exhausted anger boiling up inside her. She reached for the communication device clipped to her belt, popping the earpiece into her ear, pushing a button. “HQ, this is Buffy. We need a pick up at the factory. Spike’s wounded.”
“I’m not wounded. It’s just a scrape,” he protested, sitting up.
“You can’t possibly drive that motorcycle. Now shut up.” She listened to the voice in her ear. “Yeah, pick us up ASAP. Thanks. And bring a van.”
Spike tried to get to his feet but his right foot failed him completely. He winced in pain and plopped down on his butt again.
This time, it was Buffy who reached for his arm, pulling him to his feet. She pulled his right arm around her shoulders, helping him hobble back to the motorcycle.
For whatever weird reason, nobody followed them. From what she’d heard inside that building, the Secte Noir had already awakened the Fates. And whatever that hooded creature was, it was certainly up to no good. There was still a vampire unaccounted for, given that Spike really had seen four of them.
Buffy sat him down on the curb, squatting down next to him. “How bad is it?”
“Told you, just a scrape.” Spike brushed her hands away as she tried to get a closer look at the stab wound she’d given him. “As long as my foot is attached to my body, it’s all good.”
Buffy glanced down to where the talons on that thing’s hand had ripped right through the boot. Blood pooled on the sidewalk, pink flesh shining through the tears in the leather.
“Two feet accounted for. Sorry that I staked you.”
Spike shrugged but winced again when he moved his injured shoulder. “Had to happen eventually.” He pressed a hand over the oozing wound. “What the hell was going on in there?”
“My guess? The Fates.”
“Wouldn’t the entire place be shot to hell then? And how come nobody is following us out? Seemed like we barged into something pretty important in there.”
“I have no idea. Don’t even know if I should be happy about it or not.”
Tires screeched somewhere nearby, and a van rounded the corner, skidding a little. It came to a halt not two feet away from Buffy. A young man poked his head out, green eyes gleaming in the light of the streetlamp.
“Someone told me, you needed a ride?” He drawled in a heavy Southern accent.
“Mike,” Buffy beamed at him. “For the first time, I’m actually glad to see you. Care to give us a hand?”
The young man hopped out of the van. He was entirely too well muscled, his dark hair standing off in different directions. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sauntered over to them.
“You must be Spike.” Mike grinned a toothy grin and held out a hand to the vampire.
Spike peered up at the guy, then over to Buffy. He ignored his hand and pushed himself up to his feet. “Nice meeting you, mate,” he all but growled, then limped towards the van. He had his right hand clamped over the hole in his shoulder, trying to keep his weight off his almost shredded foot.
“If you make a dent in the bike, I’m gonna kill you,” the vampire snapped at the larger man when he pushed the motorcycle towards the van.
“Not with that soul o’ yours.” Spike’s hardness rolled off Mike like water off a duck. The young man pulled a rail from the back of the van, then pushed the bike up and into the van with so much ease it looked as if he’d never done anything else. “Now, all abroad.”
They got into the van and Mike took them back to headquarters. Once he had pulled into the parking garage, Spike pushed the back door open, limping out of the van. “Got someone with a first aid kit around here?”
“First floor, to the right. Ask for Anna.” Buffy’s voice sounded flat; once more her thoughts were flooded with confusion.
She watched Spike hobbling awkwardly on one and a half feet to the stairwell. What had happened in the last fifteen minutes? Since Mike had arrived to pick them up, he’d suddenly acted even weirder than before.
During the fight, things had almost gone back to normal. Well, as normal as her life was anyway. It had been like in the old days. She and Spike, side by side, having each other’s backs. With all the weirdness of the last thirty-six hours, it had almost been a welcome distraction. And now…
“What’s with him?” Mike came up beside her after he’d pulled the motorcycle out of the van. “He’s the guy who brought down the other Hellmouth, right?”
“The one and only,” Buffy muttered under her breath. “Thanks for picking us up, Mike.” She shot him a wary smile over her shoulder before she headed for the stairs as well.
***
Chapter 07
Chapter 07
‘i understand your changes
how long before you reach the door
i know where you think you're going
i know what you came here for
and now I'm sick of joking’
- “where do you think you’re going?” by dire straits
Buffy found Spike in the infirmary.
Anna, one of the senior Slayers, had already been halfway through her medical degree when she’d been Called. Although she possessed the same powers as every other girl, she had stubbornly refused to be an active part of the troops. Now, the tall woman ran the infirmary, teaching some of the Slayers how to take care of injuries if need be.
Now, she sat on a stool in front of a stretcher, her wire rimmed glasses pushed high up her nose. Spike sat in front of her, stripped of his jacket and shirt, his shoulder already bandaged.
Anna had taken off his right boot, examining the wound.
“How is he?” Buffy asked, her voice hard, when she pushed the door open.
“He,” Spike answered before Anna had even opened her mouth, “is sitting right here. And he’s doing fine. Just a little bang in the ying-yang is all.”
“Anna, could you give us a minute?” The Slayer crossed her arms in front of her chest, her stance toughening.
“Let me finish this, okay? If I don’t wrap this up, it’s going to ooze forever.” Anna didn’t even look up from her work. She had just cleaned the wound with enough disinfectant to make even Spike wince in pain, now she pressed a thick pad of gauze on his ankle.
“He’s a vampire.” Buffy shrugged one shoulder. “He’ll live.”
“You’re doing your job,” the young almost-doctor started bandaging his foot, “and I’m doing mine.”
Buffy saw Spike shooting her a glance from under hooded eyes, a satisfied, almost nasty grin edging on his face. Was he glad that Anna had stood up to her like that?
“Alright.” Anna snapped off her rubber gloves. “Take it easy with the foot. With your healing powers, you should be fine tomorrow.” She smiled up at the vampire, then stood. “He’s all yours.” With that, she left the room.
A moment’s silence hung in the room, before Spike cocked his head to one side, looking at her. “She’s quite a piece of work. How come she’s so easy with me being a vampire?”
“People around here know who you are.” She paused for a second, then continued. “Wish the same could be said for me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The room seemed to have gotten a few degrees colder upon his words. With one hand, he struggled into his leather jacket, draping it loosely over his wounded shoulder.
“You know what it means, Spike,” she snapped back at him. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing is going with me.” His voice became quiet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You damn well do. Stop toying with me.” Anger boiled up inside her, making her voice quiver slightly. “You’ve changed. You’re not the man I used to know. What happened to you?”
Spike looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Ever so slowly, he slipped off the stretcher, keeping most of his weight on his good foot. Somehow, he managed to make his uneven, hobbling walk look graceful.
And he didn’t answer. He approached her slowly, as if deliberately taking his time instead of being forced to limp. Then, he pushed past her, reaching for the door handle.
Buffy’s hand closed around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Spike?” Her voice was steadier now, almost pleading.
“Like you said.” He shot her an even glance. “I’ve changed.”
With that, he freed himself from her grip, opened the door and left.
*
Spike needed a drink. Badly. Lots and lots of drinks, actually. But in a school full of girls—most of who, were not old enough to drink--it wasn’t very likely he’d find any. And with his foot hurt, he wouldn’t be able to get out to a bar or a liquor store.
This thing was spiraling out of hand. He knew that it hadn’t been very likely to go smoothly in the first place but this was… well, it was pretty damn complicated.
If things had gone as planned, he would have been out of here once this apocalypse was cleaned up. There was no use for him here. At least, that’s what he tried to make himself believe.
But now…
Buffy had started sensing something, asking all these question. She wasn’t stupid, far from it. With her experience with vampires (slaying them and shagging them), she knew that something was wrong.
He hated having to lie to her. Well, it wasn’t actually lying. He hadn’t told her anything that wasn’t true. He had just kept certain aspects of the big picture to himself. For now anyway. Now that she had started probing around, he would have to tell her all of it. He should have done so yesterday but his being back from the dead after a decade was already more that she could possibly handle. He wouldn’t be able to hide from her much longer.
It surprised him that he’d made it to his room without one angry Slayer tailing him. He was even able to discard his jacket and slip on a shirt that he buttoned halfway up. As he was rummaging through his duffel bag, he produced a small, well-read book, its pages and its spine mangled. He flipped through the pages until he came upon a folded piece of paper.
Spike swallowed, then sank down on the bed, staring at the paper. Although he had kept it with him for the past ten years, it was still hard on him to read the lines written in the delicate script.
Buffy’s handwriting.
It was the letter she had left him after the night they had spent in the abandoned house in Sunnydale. A letter he had read a least a dozen times before even before he had left that house to head back to the Revello Drive. A letter that had survived his death with him, stashed away in his back pocket. For the past ten years, those few lines were his bedtime story, reminding him of memories he didn’t have any more.
“Got a good read? Some of the girls have formed a book club, maybe you can join in.”
He hadn’t even heard Buffy coming in. “It’s your letter,” he said, matter-of-factly. “The one you wrote me that night.” His voice was very, very quiet.
“Talk to me, Spike,” she jumped right to the chase. The anger had left her tone, leaving it open to something bordering to despair. “Please.”
He took a deep, unneeded breath. “Buffy, I…,” he started but she cut him off.
“No wait, let me tell you something first.” She made a step towards him, her hands fidgeting uneasily. She inhaled and held the breath for a moment, before releasing it slowly. When she spoke, her voice was calm, resolved. “I don’t know what happened to you, what made you think that it was such a great idea to stay away from me for ten years. I don’t care why you didn’t believe me back then, and I don’t care if you believe me now. Whatever it is that makes you tick right now…,” she shrugged, a watery glitter hazing her eyes. “I love you.”
Spike’s gaze was fixed on his hands that still held the letter. Half an eternity ticked by before he looked up. His eyes were filled with nothing but sadness. He drew in a shuddering, needless breath before he spoke, licking his lips. His voice was very, very quiet.
“I don’t.”
***
how long before you reach the door
i know where you think you're going
i know what you came here for
and now I'm sick of joking’
- “where do you think you’re going?” by dire straits
Buffy found Spike in the infirmary.
Anna, one of the senior Slayers, had already been halfway through her medical degree when she’d been Called. Although she possessed the same powers as every other girl, she had stubbornly refused to be an active part of the troops. Now, the tall woman ran the infirmary, teaching some of the Slayers how to take care of injuries if need be.
Now, she sat on a stool in front of a stretcher, her wire rimmed glasses pushed high up her nose. Spike sat in front of her, stripped of his jacket and shirt, his shoulder already bandaged.
Anna had taken off his right boot, examining the wound.
“How is he?” Buffy asked, her voice hard, when she pushed the door open.
“He,” Spike answered before Anna had even opened her mouth, “is sitting right here. And he’s doing fine. Just a little bang in the ying-yang is all.”
“Anna, could you give us a minute?” The Slayer crossed her arms in front of her chest, her stance toughening.
“Let me finish this, okay? If I don’t wrap this up, it’s going to ooze forever.” Anna didn’t even look up from her work. She had just cleaned the wound with enough disinfectant to make even Spike wince in pain, now she pressed a thick pad of gauze on his ankle.
“He’s a vampire.” Buffy shrugged one shoulder. “He’ll live.”
“You’re doing your job,” the young almost-doctor started bandaging his foot, “and I’m doing mine.”
Buffy saw Spike shooting her a glance from under hooded eyes, a satisfied, almost nasty grin edging on his face. Was he glad that Anna had stood up to her like that?
“Alright.” Anna snapped off her rubber gloves. “Take it easy with the foot. With your healing powers, you should be fine tomorrow.” She smiled up at the vampire, then stood. “He’s all yours.” With that, she left the room.
A moment’s silence hung in the room, before Spike cocked his head to one side, looking at her. “She’s quite a piece of work. How come she’s so easy with me being a vampire?”
“People around here know who you are.” She paused for a second, then continued. “Wish the same could be said for me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The room seemed to have gotten a few degrees colder upon his words. With one hand, he struggled into his leather jacket, draping it loosely over his wounded shoulder.
“You know what it means, Spike,” she snapped back at him. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing is going with me.” His voice became quiet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You damn well do. Stop toying with me.” Anger boiled up inside her, making her voice quiver slightly. “You’ve changed. You’re not the man I used to know. What happened to you?”
Spike looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Ever so slowly, he slipped off the stretcher, keeping most of his weight on his good foot. Somehow, he managed to make his uneven, hobbling walk look graceful.
And he didn’t answer. He approached her slowly, as if deliberately taking his time instead of being forced to limp. Then, he pushed past her, reaching for the door handle.
Buffy’s hand closed around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Spike?” Her voice was steadier now, almost pleading.
“Like you said.” He shot her an even glance. “I’ve changed.”
With that, he freed himself from her grip, opened the door and left.
*
Spike needed a drink. Badly. Lots and lots of drinks, actually. But in a school full of girls—most of who, were not old enough to drink--it wasn’t very likely he’d find any. And with his foot hurt, he wouldn’t be able to get out to a bar or a liquor store.
This thing was spiraling out of hand. He knew that it hadn’t been very likely to go smoothly in the first place but this was… well, it was pretty damn complicated.
If things had gone as planned, he would have been out of here once this apocalypse was cleaned up. There was no use for him here. At least, that’s what he tried to make himself believe.
But now…
Buffy had started sensing something, asking all these question. She wasn’t stupid, far from it. With her experience with vampires (slaying them and shagging them), she knew that something was wrong.
He hated having to lie to her. Well, it wasn’t actually lying. He hadn’t told her anything that wasn’t true. He had just kept certain aspects of the big picture to himself. For now anyway. Now that she had started probing around, he would have to tell her all of it. He should have done so yesterday but his being back from the dead after a decade was already more that she could possibly handle. He wouldn’t be able to hide from her much longer.
It surprised him that he’d made it to his room without one angry Slayer tailing him. He was even able to discard his jacket and slip on a shirt that he buttoned halfway up. As he was rummaging through his duffel bag, he produced a small, well-read book, its pages and its spine mangled. He flipped through the pages until he came upon a folded piece of paper.
Spike swallowed, then sank down on the bed, staring at the paper. Although he had kept it with him for the past ten years, it was still hard on him to read the lines written in the delicate script.
Buffy’s handwriting.
It was the letter she had left him after the night they had spent in the abandoned house in Sunnydale. A letter he had read a least a dozen times before even before he had left that house to head back to the Revello Drive. A letter that had survived his death with him, stashed away in his back pocket. For the past ten years, those few lines were his bedtime story, reminding him of memories he didn’t have any more.
“Got a good read? Some of the girls have formed a book club, maybe you can join in.”
He hadn’t even heard Buffy coming in. “It’s your letter,” he said, matter-of-factly. “The one you wrote me that night.” His voice was very, very quiet.
“Talk to me, Spike,” she jumped right to the chase. The anger had left her tone, leaving it open to something bordering to despair. “Please.”
He took a deep, unneeded breath. “Buffy, I…,” he started but she cut him off.
“No wait, let me tell you something first.” She made a step towards him, her hands fidgeting uneasily. She inhaled and held the breath for a moment, before releasing it slowly. When she spoke, her voice was calm, resolved. “I don’t know what happened to you, what made you think that it was such a great idea to stay away from me for ten years. I don’t care why you didn’t believe me back then, and I don’t care if you believe me now. Whatever it is that makes you tick right now…,” she shrugged, a watery glitter hazing her eyes. “I love you.”
Spike’s gaze was fixed on his hands that still held the letter. Half an eternity ticked by before he looked up. His eyes were filled with nothing but sadness. He drew in a shuddering, needless breath before he spoke, licking his lips. His voice was very, very quiet.
“I don’t.”
***
Chapter 08
Chapter 08
‘now you and me go parallel together and apart
and you keep the perfect distance and it's tearing at my heart’
- “hand in hand” by dire straits
Buffy stared at him in utter disbelief.
Her heart had skipped a beat, and her brain seemed to have done the same thing. Then, she blinked. Slowly. Trying to bring her senses up to speed with what he’d just said.
“What?” her voice was hushed, almost inaudible. “What did you just say?”
She had heard full well what he had said. She just didn’t understand it.
Half a life back when Glory had threatened to open that portal from/into hell, she would have given anything for him to say those exact words. She had tried to ignore the painful truth that this man – no, strike that – that this creature had actually fallen in love with her. It had been wrong, utterly wrong. And she still wasn’t so sure if it was part of the big scheme of things for a soulless vampire to actually fall in love.
At first, she hadn’t believed him. There had been too many reasons not to. That he had tied her up to tell her was only one of them. But with time (and with all the little things he’d done for her), she had adapted to the thought that his feelings for her had been real and not just some lust-laden daydream.
Of course, after she had been brought back from the dead, she had abused that exact same fact in the most shameless way. It still made her blush violently when she thought of all those things that…
And then, the soul. He had gone to Africa to get himself a soul, to be punished for all those things he’d done. He had hit a rough patch after that but he had worked his way through it. He had worked his way through it for her. Always for her.
He’d been beaten, tortured, and had gone to hell and back. Just for her.
Because he loved her.
During their last few days in Sunnydale it had become clear to her, more clear than it had ever been. He loved her. Whether it was possible or not, whether it was right or not, he loved her.
Not only had she gotten used to it, it had become a constant in her life. Something she could count on, something that gave her the strength to fight. No matter what had happened, he had been there. With her and for her. Always.
And now he told her that…
How was that possible?
Spike still hadn’t answered her. She had no idea how much time had passed before she spoke again.
“How?” she breathed. He wanted to say something now but she raised her hand to cut him off. “Is… is there someone else?” Her voice shook with confusion.
When Spike finally spoke, his voice had an odd quality to it. There was sadness, and exhaustion, and a slight touch of impatience, all rolled into one single word. “No.”
“Then… what?” She had never thought that the words ‘I don’t’ – simple as they were - would be able to confuse her this much.
“Buffy, I…,” he started, turning the piece of paper in his hands. “I haven’t told you… the entire story.”
“Then, please, do.”
He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I… I don’t remember my feelings for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Again, anger flared up inside her. There had been a time when there was nothing she could have done to shut him up. Now, she had to drag every single word from him; it was like pulling teeth.
“When… a few years ago I was in New Zealand, checking out some demon clan. I got word that their leader was engaged in a… they were playing poker at a demon bar in Wellington.”
“Please tell me that you didn’t loose your feelings in a poker game,” she said, incredulously.
“No, that’s not…,” he sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I made a deal with a faerie.”
“You what? A faerie? Small, glittery, looks lots like Julia Roberts?”
“Less Tinkerbell, more Hellboy,” he corrected, raising an eyebrow. “There was another guy at the table, hell of a player. One evening he started talking about you, about this place. Figured that was something worth listening to. He kept yapping on and on about that big plan of his to tear the Slayer’s Council apart. When I asked him about it, he… he sensed something. In me.”
“Your soul?” Buffy asked. Something dawned inside her, a little notion of where this was going.
“My… my love, I suppose,” he replied with a tiny shrug. “Turned out that this guy was some faerie lord or something. He wanted to take you out, you and the girls. The usual. Had it all worked out.” Once more, Spike took a deep breath. “And then he offered me a deal.”
Buffy made a step back, bumping against the door.
“He would leave you alone if I gave him my memories.”
Buffy stared at him, her throat suddenly very dry. “He made you forget that you love me?”
Spike looked up at her, sadness written all over him. “When I came back as a ghost, you were the first thing I thought about, the first thing I asked about. When they made me corporeal again, first thing I wanted to do was head over to Europe to come see you. You were always on my mind, all the time. I couldn’t slay a vampire, or off a demon without thinking about you. Whenever Giles or Andrew wrote me, it felt like…,” he laid a hand over his heart, his fingers curling into a fist. “It hurt. So when that guy offered me the chance to forget how much it hurt not to see you again…” He fell silent for a long moment.
Buffy didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what to think.
“I know that I have feelings for you. I just don’t know what they feel like. I remember everything, every word, everything we’ve… I still have all those memories.” Again, he paused, staring down at his bandaged foot. “They just don’t mean anything to me.”
The Slayer drew in a shuddering breath, tears threatening to flood her eyes. This couldn’t possibly be happening.
“And at first it wasn’t so bad. After a while though… I know it’s there, somewhere. It’s as if you see something in the corner of your eyes, and when turn and try to focus on it, it’s gone. It’s always there, I just… I just can’t reach it. And that hurts even more.”
Again, silence fell between them.
Buffy had no idea how much time had passed. Half an eternity seemed to have gone by. Her thoughts and emotions were a hopeless jumble. She understood everything he’d just told her but it didn’t make any sense to her.
She could have dealt with another woman. She could have dealt with him loosing his soul again. Those were the things she could handle. Those were the things she understood. But this… this was just insane.
“I’m sorry, Buffy.” Spike’s voice tore her out of her thoughts. Slowly, he rose to his feet, taking a few uneven steps toward her. His eyes shone very blue.
“You traded your love away,” her words swam in tears. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you why.”
“Because you love me?” Disdain seeped into her voice. “Because… I’m the one?”
He let out an exhausted breath. “Yes.” He made another step towards her, closing the gap between them.
She let out a tiny, incredulous snort. “You see, now that you say that… it doesn’t mean anything to me either.”
He made another step forward. “Buffy, I…”
Not being able to back any further away from him, Buffy held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. Years ago, that motion only would have urged him on. Now, he froze.
“No,” she said, her voice hard now, angry. “Just… no.” She reached for the door handle, pulling it open. “I wish you’d never come back.”
Behind her, the door clicked shut.
***
and you keep the perfect distance and it's tearing at my heart’
- “hand in hand” by dire straits
Buffy stared at him in utter disbelief.
Her heart had skipped a beat, and her brain seemed to have done the same thing. Then, she blinked. Slowly. Trying to bring her senses up to speed with what he’d just said.
“What?” her voice was hushed, almost inaudible. “What did you just say?”
She had heard full well what he had said. She just didn’t understand it.
Half a life back when Glory had threatened to open that portal from/into hell, she would have given anything for him to say those exact words. She had tried to ignore the painful truth that this man – no, strike that – that this creature had actually fallen in love with her. It had been wrong, utterly wrong. And she still wasn’t so sure if it was part of the big scheme of things for a soulless vampire to actually fall in love.
At first, she hadn’t believed him. There had been too many reasons not to. That he had tied her up to tell her was only one of them. But with time (and with all the little things he’d done for her), she had adapted to the thought that his feelings for her had been real and not just some lust-laden daydream.
Of course, after she had been brought back from the dead, she had abused that exact same fact in the most shameless way. It still made her blush violently when she thought of all those things that…
And then, the soul. He had gone to Africa to get himself a soul, to be punished for all those things he’d done. He had hit a rough patch after that but he had worked his way through it. He had worked his way through it for her. Always for her.
He’d been beaten, tortured, and had gone to hell and back. Just for her.
Because he loved her.
During their last few days in Sunnydale it had become clear to her, more clear than it had ever been. He loved her. Whether it was possible or not, whether it was right or not, he loved her.
Not only had she gotten used to it, it had become a constant in her life. Something she could count on, something that gave her the strength to fight. No matter what had happened, he had been there. With her and for her. Always.
And now he told her that…
How was that possible?
Spike still hadn’t answered her. She had no idea how much time had passed before she spoke again.
“How?” she breathed. He wanted to say something now but she raised her hand to cut him off. “Is… is there someone else?” Her voice shook with confusion.
When Spike finally spoke, his voice had an odd quality to it. There was sadness, and exhaustion, and a slight touch of impatience, all rolled into one single word. “No.”
“Then… what?” She had never thought that the words ‘I don’t’ – simple as they were - would be able to confuse her this much.
“Buffy, I…,” he started, turning the piece of paper in his hands. “I haven’t told you… the entire story.”
“Then, please, do.”
He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I… I don’t remember my feelings for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Again, anger flared up inside her. There had been a time when there was nothing she could have done to shut him up. Now, she had to drag every single word from him; it was like pulling teeth.
“When… a few years ago I was in New Zealand, checking out some demon clan. I got word that their leader was engaged in a… they were playing poker at a demon bar in Wellington.”
“Please tell me that you didn’t loose your feelings in a poker game,” she said, incredulously.
“No, that’s not…,” he sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I made a deal with a faerie.”
“You what? A faerie? Small, glittery, looks lots like Julia Roberts?”
“Less Tinkerbell, more Hellboy,” he corrected, raising an eyebrow. “There was another guy at the table, hell of a player. One evening he started talking about you, about this place. Figured that was something worth listening to. He kept yapping on and on about that big plan of his to tear the Slayer’s Council apart. When I asked him about it, he… he sensed something. In me.”
“Your soul?” Buffy asked. Something dawned inside her, a little notion of where this was going.
“My… my love, I suppose,” he replied with a tiny shrug. “Turned out that this guy was some faerie lord or something. He wanted to take you out, you and the girls. The usual. Had it all worked out.” Once more, Spike took a deep breath. “And then he offered me a deal.”
Buffy made a step back, bumping against the door.
“He would leave you alone if I gave him my memories.”
Buffy stared at him, her throat suddenly very dry. “He made you forget that you love me?”
Spike looked up at her, sadness written all over him. “When I came back as a ghost, you were the first thing I thought about, the first thing I asked about. When they made me corporeal again, first thing I wanted to do was head over to Europe to come see you. You were always on my mind, all the time. I couldn’t slay a vampire, or off a demon without thinking about you. Whenever Giles or Andrew wrote me, it felt like…,” he laid a hand over his heart, his fingers curling into a fist. “It hurt. So when that guy offered me the chance to forget how much it hurt not to see you again…” He fell silent for a long moment.
Buffy didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what to think.
“I know that I have feelings for you. I just don’t know what they feel like. I remember everything, every word, everything we’ve… I still have all those memories.” Again, he paused, staring down at his bandaged foot. “They just don’t mean anything to me.”
The Slayer drew in a shuddering breath, tears threatening to flood her eyes. This couldn’t possibly be happening.
“And at first it wasn’t so bad. After a while though… I know it’s there, somewhere. It’s as if you see something in the corner of your eyes, and when turn and try to focus on it, it’s gone. It’s always there, I just… I just can’t reach it. And that hurts even more.”
Again, silence fell between them.
Buffy had no idea how much time had passed. Half an eternity seemed to have gone by. Her thoughts and emotions were a hopeless jumble. She understood everything he’d just told her but it didn’t make any sense to her.
She could have dealt with another woman. She could have dealt with him loosing his soul again. Those were the things she could handle. Those were the things she understood. But this… this was just insane.
“I’m sorry, Buffy.” Spike’s voice tore her out of her thoughts. Slowly, he rose to his feet, taking a few uneven steps toward her. His eyes shone very blue.
“You traded your love away,” her words swam in tears. “Why would you do that?”
“I told you why.”
“Because you love me?” Disdain seeped into her voice. “Because… I’m the one?”
He let out an exhausted breath. “Yes.” He made another step towards her, closing the gap between them.
She let out a tiny, incredulous snort. “You see, now that you say that… it doesn’t mean anything to me either.”
He made another step forward. “Buffy, I…”
Not being able to back any further away from him, Buffy held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. Years ago, that motion only would have urged him on. Now, he froze.
“No,” she said, her voice hard now, angry. “Just… no.” She reached for the door handle, pulling it open. “I wish you’d never come back.”
Behind her, the door clicked shut.
***
Chapter 09
Chapter 09
‘and that's all that remains of the years
spent doing to rounds
and it never rains around here
well it just comes pouring down’
- “it never rains” by dire straits
“Spike,
When you read this, I’ll be gone. I’m sorry to leave you like this, especially after last night. I’ve never been good with words, so I can’t even begin to describe what yours meant to me.
You are right. You’ve seen my best but mostly my worst. And still, you are here. You still say those words to me even after everything we’ve done to each other. I’m grateful for them, more than you’ll likely ever know.
In times like these, you’re my best friend. And more than that. Much more. I know that I’ve done a lot to you for you to doubt that but just this once, you have to believe me. I trust you with my life.
Speaking of which, right now I’m probably risking mine to save the world. Again. Talk about compulsive behavior. I hope to see you back at the house.
Thank you for everything.
Love,
Buffy”
*
He had memorized those words, had learned them by heart. Those words stood for the memories he’d lost. They were only a poor substitute for the feelings he couldn’t feel anymore.
Sometimes, Spike wished that faerie lord had taken his memories altogether. For three years he existed with this blank spot inside him, a shadow on his emotional cornea, if he allowed his inner poet to describe what it felt like.
It was there but not there at the same time. He had believed his soul hurt like hell, but being robbed of the one thing that was even remotely good about him, the one thing that kept him fighting all those years… well, that was hell.
He should have told her that he was back. Maybe that would have saved him from making this bloody awful mistake. Yeah, when it came to Buffy, he wasn’t much of a thinker.
If he’d ever had even the slightest chance, he had screwed that one up pretty well. If she had told him a few years ago that she loved him, he would have believed her. He would have swept her off her feet. He would have… loved her.
Now he sat in his empty room in front of his bed, his wounded leg stretched out. Once more, he had read the letter, and he would read it many more times tonight.
His foot throbbed steadily as it started to heal. And his left hand felt numb as… another jolt of pain lanced through his chest and down his arm. A pain so sharp and piercing, it was as if someone had shoved a white-hot poker into his heart.
Spike clenched a hand over his chest, almost clawing at his flesh, raking over the already faded scars. His left hand twitched in pain, a cramp knotting itself in his biceps.
It was the second time in two days this was happening, and this time it hurt almost twice as much.
What the hell was this?
*
Buffy’s feet carried her down into the basement in a blaze of fury. She needed to let off some steam, even if that just meant pummeling the hell out of a punching bag.
She was beyond angry. There was no word in her language or the next that could describe the feeling that surged through her. There was anger, hate, and despair. There was loss, confusion, and blinding fury.
Why had he done that? Why had he traded his love away?
There should have been other ways to protect her. He could have tipped off Giles or Andrew, they could have sent a team of Slayers to help. But no, Spike had fool heartedly taken matters into his own hands. She didn’t doubt his good intentions but there must have been other ways.
It had taken her years and many gruesome incidents to understand that he wasn’t just in her heart but that she actually loved him in return. And now he had shot that whole “in return” part straight to hell.
His love for her had been a huge motivator for her, and now that was supposed to be gone? He was useless to her like this.
*
Buffy’s fists ached from the sheer brutality that she used on the punching bag. Sweat coated her face and upper body, leaving streaks in the grime on her cheeks.
“What’d that punching bag ever do to you?” Willow stood in the door to the training room, her arms crossed over her chest, a look of concern on her face.
“The Fates are awake, and Spike doesn’t love me any more,” the Slayer said in between punches, not breaking her rhythm once.
“What do you mean, the Fates are awake?” the witch’s attention perked up.
Buffy told her what had happened at the factory. “I don’t know why nobody followed up. We were pretty much fair game.”
“The book Spike brought me might say something on that. I guess even if they wake up the Fates, they are not yet strong enough to wreak havoc. For now, at least.” Willow smiled apologetically. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Buffy…,” the Slayer kept hitting away at the punching bag. “Buffy, tell me.”
Finally, Buffy’s fists sank to her sides and her shoulders sagged. Slowly, she told Willow the other part of the story as well. By the end of it, her voice was shaking audibly and she had one hand up covering her eyes.
“Buffy, I’m sorry.” Willow had crossed the room, laying a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
The Slayer nodded weakly, then went over to a pile of training mats and sat down. “You know what the worst thing about this is?” Her voice had re-gained some sad strength. “I know why he did it. I can understand it.” She paused. “You remember when Glory captured him, trying to find out who the Key was?”
“Like that’s something easy to forget. He got beat up pretty badly.”
“I was at his place afterwards. I wanted to figure out if he’d told Glory about Dawn. You know what he said to me? That he’d rather have Glory kill him then see me or Dawn getting harmed.” A wry smile flickered over Buffy’s face. “It’s always been like that. He always… always did what he thought was right, consequences be damned. Beatings, torture, the soul. Took me long enough to realise that he was… serious. And now it’s… it’s gone. And… as much as I hate him for it, I… I can understand it.”
Willow looked at her for a long time. “The two of you are officially the most screwed up couple that walks this planet.”
“You’re dating Kennedy. How screwed up are you?” Buffy shot back in a moment of light humor. “You know… for all these years, I tried to imagine what it would be like if he ever came back. Sometimes we fought, just stared at one another or we would…,” she let her words trail off. “But it was never like this.”
“So you really wish that he hadn’t come back?”
“No. I’m happy… somehow. I just wished it was different.”
There was a moment’s silence between them before Willow spoke again. “You want me to figure out if I can reserve the spell of the faerie lord?”
“Would you do that for me?”
“That’s what best friends are for, right? Chatting about boys, doing a little research on faeries…”
“The Fate thing is priority, though. We can deal with my screwed up love life later on.”
“Hey, give me some credit. I can multi-task.”
***
spent doing to rounds
and it never rains around here
well it just comes pouring down’
- “it never rains” by dire straits
“Spike,
When you read this, I’ll be gone. I’m sorry to leave you like this, especially after last night. I’ve never been good with words, so I can’t even begin to describe what yours meant to me.
You are right. You’ve seen my best but mostly my worst. And still, you are here. You still say those words to me even after everything we’ve done to each other. I’m grateful for them, more than you’ll likely ever know.
In times like these, you’re my best friend. And more than that. Much more. I know that I’ve done a lot to you for you to doubt that but just this once, you have to believe me. I trust you with my life.
Speaking of which, right now I’m probably risking mine to save the world. Again. Talk about compulsive behavior. I hope to see you back at the house.
Thank you for everything.
Love,
Buffy”
*
He had memorized those words, had learned them by heart. Those words stood for the memories he’d lost. They were only a poor substitute for the feelings he couldn’t feel anymore.
Sometimes, Spike wished that faerie lord had taken his memories altogether. For three years he existed with this blank spot inside him, a shadow on his emotional cornea, if he allowed his inner poet to describe what it felt like.
It was there but not there at the same time. He had believed his soul hurt like hell, but being robbed of the one thing that was even remotely good about him, the one thing that kept him fighting all those years… well, that was hell.
He should have told her that he was back. Maybe that would have saved him from making this bloody awful mistake. Yeah, when it came to Buffy, he wasn’t much of a thinker.
If he’d ever had even the slightest chance, he had screwed that one up pretty well. If she had told him a few years ago that she loved him, he would have believed her. He would have swept her off her feet. He would have… loved her.
Now he sat in his empty room in front of his bed, his wounded leg stretched out. Once more, he had read the letter, and he would read it many more times tonight.
His foot throbbed steadily as it started to heal. And his left hand felt numb as… another jolt of pain lanced through his chest and down his arm. A pain so sharp and piercing, it was as if someone had shoved a white-hot poker into his heart.
Spike clenched a hand over his chest, almost clawing at his flesh, raking over the already faded scars. His left hand twitched in pain, a cramp knotting itself in his biceps.
It was the second time in two days this was happening, and this time it hurt almost twice as much.
What the hell was this?
*
Buffy’s feet carried her down into the basement in a blaze of fury. She needed to let off some steam, even if that just meant pummeling the hell out of a punching bag.
She was beyond angry. There was no word in her language or the next that could describe the feeling that surged through her. There was anger, hate, and despair. There was loss, confusion, and blinding fury.
Why had he done that? Why had he traded his love away?
There should have been other ways to protect her. He could have tipped off Giles or Andrew, they could have sent a team of Slayers to help. But no, Spike had fool heartedly taken matters into his own hands. She didn’t doubt his good intentions but there must have been other ways.
It had taken her years and many gruesome incidents to understand that he wasn’t just in her heart but that she actually loved him in return. And now he had shot that whole “in return” part straight to hell.
His love for her had been a huge motivator for her, and now that was supposed to be gone? He was useless to her like this.
*
Buffy’s fists ached from the sheer brutality that she used on the punching bag. Sweat coated her face and upper body, leaving streaks in the grime on her cheeks.
“What’d that punching bag ever do to you?” Willow stood in the door to the training room, her arms crossed over her chest, a look of concern on her face.
“The Fates are awake, and Spike doesn’t love me any more,” the Slayer said in between punches, not breaking her rhythm once.
“What do you mean, the Fates are awake?” the witch’s attention perked up.
Buffy told her what had happened at the factory. “I don’t know why nobody followed up. We were pretty much fair game.”
“The book Spike brought me might say something on that. I guess even if they wake up the Fates, they are not yet strong enough to wreak havoc. For now, at least.” Willow smiled apologetically. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “Buffy…,” the Slayer kept hitting away at the punching bag. “Buffy, tell me.”
Finally, Buffy’s fists sank to her sides and her shoulders sagged. Slowly, she told Willow the other part of the story as well. By the end of it, her voice was shaking audibly and she had one hand up covering her eyes.
“Buffy, I’m sorry.” Willow had crossed the room, laying a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
The Slayer nodded weakly, then went over to a pile of training mats and sat down. “You know what the worst thing about this is?” Her voice had re-gained some sad strength. “I know why he did it. I can understand it.” She paused. “You remember when Glory captured him, trying to find out who the Key was?”
“Like that’s something easy to forget. He got beat up pretty badly.”
“I was at his place afterwards. I wanted to figure out if he’d told Glory about Dawn. You know what he said to me? That he’d rather have Glory kill him then see me or Dawn getting harmed.” A wry smile flickered over Buffy’s face. “It’s always been like that. He always… always did what he thought was right, consequences be damned. Beatings, torture, the soul. Took me long enough to realise that he was… serious. And now it’s… it’s gone. And… as much as I hate him for it, I… I can understand it.”
Willow looked at her for a long time. “The two of you are officially the most screwed up couple that walks this planet.”
“You’re dating Kennedy. How screwed up are you?” Buffy shot back in a moment of light humor. “You know… for all these years, I tried to imagine what it would be like if he ever came back. Sometimes we fought, just stared at one another or we would…,” she let her words trail off. “But it was never like this.”
“So you really wish that he hadn’t come back?”
“No. I’m happy… somehow. I just wished it was different.”
There was a moment’s silence between them before Willow spoke again. “You want me to figure out if I can reserve the spell of the faerie lord?”
“Would you do that for me?”
“That’s what best friends are for, right? Chatting about boys, doing a little research on faeries…”
“The Fate thing is priority, though. We can deal with my screwed up love life later on.”
“Hey, give me some credit. I can multi-task.”
***
Chapter 10
Chapter 10
’she call me just to talk
she's my lover, she's a friend of mine
she says hey mister you wanna take a walk
in the wild west end sometime’
- “expresso love” by dire straits
Spike sat on his bed, his back against the far corner of the room. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes closed. If his foot hadn’t been throbbing with searing pain, he would have thought himself to be dead. He might as well be.
During the last couple of years, he had spent hours, sometimes days like this. Just sitting there in the dark, trying not to think of anything in particular. Maybe the pain would go away eventually.
But it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t.
It even seemed as if the pain only got worse the more time passed, growing like a cancerous tumor inside him. Apparently, trying to get rid of one kind of pain only meant you got to delve into a whole new world of hurt.
He had tried to hurt Buffy so he’d gotten himself a soul. The soul had hurt so much that he’d tried to cut it out. After that, things had been good for a while. Then he’d died and returned, thinking about nothing other than Buffy. And when he’d tried to get rid of that pain as well… the easiest way out wasn’t always the best.
And still, even if this meant that he would feel the constant reminders of his actions day in and day out, he would do the same thing again. Without hesitation. He wouldn’t need a second to think, he wouldn’t even blink. For her, he’d do anything.
*
There was a hesitant knock on the door, and slowly, Spike opened his eyes.
“Yeah?” he growled.
The same girl who’d been to his room the other day poked her head in, a pink blush plastered on her face. “Excuse me, sir. Miss Summers would like to speak to you in her apartment.”
“Told you to the cut the ‘sir’, girl.” He knew that the young Slayer didn’t deserve his anger. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Buffy got an apartment?”
“Yes, she has the moved into the old principal’s office. It’s on the top floor. Would you like me to take you there?”
“No need to. Let her know I’ll be there in a minute.”
“As you wish, sir.” The girl had almost ducked halfway out the door when he called after her.
“Did she say what she wanted?”
This time, the girl fully opened the door, stepping halfway in. “No, she didn’t. But she seemed very upset.” She smiled almost apologetically. When he didn’t reply, she turned on her heel and left the room.
It took Spike almost five minutes to slip a new shirt over his head, his shoulder screaming in pain. Putting on his boot again was even worse.
Just as he walked – or limped for that matter – out of his room, he bumped into Andrew. The young man smiled sheepishly.
“Hey Spike. How’s the foot?”
The vampire blinked. “Is there anything that remains private around here?”
“Kinda not. It’s a house full of girls after all.” Andrew shrugged as though that explained it all.
“What else is running the rumor mill?” Spike nodded down the corridor, nudging the other man down the hall.
Andrew hesitated for a moment. “That you and Buffy had a… falling-out. That you’re acting weird. That sort of thing. But we don’t know any specifics.”
“That’s something then.” They stopped in front of the staircase. “You don’t happen to have an elevator, do you?”
“Nope, sorry.”
Spike shrugged. “Figures.” He started half-hopping, half-limping up the stairs.
“Spike?” Andrew called after him, and the vampire turned. “If you want to talk…”
A wry smirk tugged at Spike’s lips. “Thanks, kid. You got to wait until hell freezes over before I share my heart with you.”
“Actually,” Andrew shifted from one leg to the other. “That kind of happened last year. Well, it didn’t actually freeze but Willow cast a spell and it got pretty cold around there.”
Spike looked at him for a long, incredulous moment. And then he blinked. “No.” With that, he turned and continued up the stairs.
*
He found Buffy’s apartment without problems. It was the only apartment on that floor, and he could smell her almost immediately.
In front of her door, he stopped. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to happy that she wanted to see him. On the one hand, it might be a chance to – not make things right – but at least to make them better. On the other hand, she might tell him to get lost.
Hesitantly, he raised a hand and knocked.
“Come in,” Buffy called from the inside.
Slowly, he pushed the door open and entered the apartment. Buffy stood opposite the door, looking out the window into the night.
“You wanted to see me?” Spike leaned against the door, taking his weight off his foot.
“No,” Buffy replied coolly “But I need to show you something.” She turned to him, her eyes circled by a touch of red. “You want a beer?”
He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “Sure.”
“Sit. Anna told you to go easy on the foot.” The Slayer disappeared into the kitchen while Spike limped over to the couch. She came back a moment later with two uncapped bottles of cool beer, condensation forming on the glass.
“You wanted to show me something?” He nodded his thanks while slight confusion marred his brows.
“Yeah,” Buffy set the bottles on the coffee table, turning to her TV set. “A couple of years ago, Andrew gave me this for my birthday. I don’t know how he made sure it survived the apocalypse but he said something about a server and a download or something.” She picked up an almost trashy adorned DVD case, all in pink with loads of glitter.
“Online storage. Got to give the kid some credit. He’s smarter than he looks.” Spike took a sip from his beer, thankful for at least some alcohol.
“Wait until you see this,” she replied dryly, her tone carrying both amusement and that underlying anger.
She popped the DVD into the player, switching on the TV. Then she sat down next to him, her hands fidgeting with the remote. And then she pressed play.
*
The music played before the pictures rolled, a song Spike remembered all too well. A song that had almost become his and Buffy’s wedding song.
“That little ponce,” he muttered under his breath, his hand darting up to his mouth, his fingers touching his lips.
The pictures that followed startled him more than anything. Some of them were shaky and little out of focus but all of them had the same theme. Him and Buffy.
Here she stood in the living room of the house, giving one of her infamous speeches. He stood behind her, leaning against the wall as her silent guard, looking at her from under hooded eyes.
In the next scene, Buffy sat at the kitchen counter, cleaning a slime-coated crossbow. Spike came up from the basement, a bright red mug in his hand. A few words were exchanged, dubbed with Bette Midler’s song. The vampire took a blood-bag from the fridge, emptied it into the mug, then put it into the microwave. Buffy’s face twisted in disgust, Spike said something, then she laughed, at total ease with the situation.
Up next came a scene Spike had replayed in his mind during lonely days and empty nights. The night after the dating fiasco when they had sat in the living-room and Buffy had told him to stay.
Others followed, most of them quite similar. Spike hadn’t even known that they had been filmed. All these moments had been quiet moments, moments of silence and almost peace. Just the two of them, caught in seconds of… yeah, of intimacy, even innocence.
Spike heard Buffy swallow beside him, not daring to look at her. He knew that she wouldn’t want him to see her crying.
An uneasy silence fell into the room when the video ended. If Spike’s heart had been beating, it would have skipped a couple of beats by now. He had never shy for words but right now, they failed him altogether.
When Buffy finally spoke, her voice was very quiet without a sign of tears.
“That’s the way you looked at me,” she said simply and it took him a moment to understand what she meant. “That’s the way you looked at me that night at my house, before I jumped off the tower. And when you first saw me after I got back. And when we… whenever we… I never wanted to see it back then. It’s the way you looked at me after you returned with your soul. Most of the time you thought I didn’t notice. But I did.” Her voice became even quieter, even a little shaky. “I needed it.”
She paused, recollecting her thoughts. For a second, Spike tried to say something but he knew that everything he’d try to say would come out wrong.
“You always had my back, always. If I wanted it or not, you were always there. I gave you every reason to leave but you didn’t. You’re the only part of my crazy world that I could always count on. Because at the end of the day I knew that you would look at me like that.” She swallowed hard as new tears started to rise inside her. “I can’t go through this without you. I need you to look at me like that again. I need it, Spike.”
Spike closed his eyes at the searing pain that coursed through him. He knew that she was right and he hated it. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but he knew that his words would carry no meaning, not to her, not even to himself. There was nothing he could possibly say but, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Buffy had swallowed some of her tears but her voice was still shaking a little. “You would do it again anytime anyway.”
He nodded weakly. “Yeah.”
“I wish I could hate you. But I can’t.” The Slayer let out a dry, little chuckle. “I just wish you wouldn’t have played the hero for once.”
“And I wish you wouldn’t forgive me.” He took another sip from his beer, its contents growing warmer even in his cold hands.
Again, she chuckled, this time even more dryly. “Yeah well, I guess that’s just what we do.” She picked up her bottle and took a swig. For a long while, they both remained silent. “So tell me, why the new haircut?”
Spike blinked in confusion. “What? That’s it? You show me the world’s most gruesome home video and things just go back to normal?” Not that he wasn’t happy with the turn of events but still…
Buffy looked at him as if he’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Normal? There is no normal for us, don’t you know? There never has been and there never will. I’m not delusional. I’m just… I’m trying, okay? I thought you were dead for a decade, and now you’re back telling me that you can’t love me anymore. So I’m trying.”
Again, silence.
With an exhausted sigh, Spike leaned back against the cushion, balancing the bottle on his belt buckle. “Billy Idol did a Christmas album a while back. Sucked pretty badly. People started to give me strange looks because of the hair so I shaved it off. ‘Sides, thirty years with the same look… gets kinda old.”
***
she's my lover, she's a friend of mine
she says hey mister you wanna take a walk
in the wild west end sometime’
- “expresso love” by dire straits
Spike sat on his bed, his back against the far corner of the room. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes closed. If his foot hadn’t been throbbing with searing pain, he would have thought himself to be dead. He might as well be.
During the last couple of years, he had spent hours, sometimes days like this. Just sitting there in the dark, trying not to think of anything in particular. Maybe the pain would go away eventually.
But it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t.
It even seemed as if the pain only got worse the more time passed, growing like a cancerous tumor inside him. Apparently, trying to get rid of one kind of pain only meant you got to delve into a whole new world of hurt.
He had tried to hurt Buffy so he’d gotten himself a soul. The soul had hurt so much that he’d tried to cut it out. After that, things had been good for a while. Then he’d died and returned, thinking about nothing other than Buffy. And when he’d tried to get rid of that pain as well… the easiest way out wasn’t always the best.
And still, even if this meant that he would feel the constant reminders of his actions day in and day out, he would do the same thing again. Without hesitation. He wouldn’t need a second to think, he wouldn’t even blink. For her, he’d do anything.
*
There was a hesitant knock on the door, and slowly, Spike opened his eyes.
“Yeah?” he growled.
The same girl who’d been to his room the other day poked her head in, a pink blush plastered on her face. “Excuse me, sir. Miss Summers would like to speak to you in her apartment.”
“Told you to the cut the ‘sir’, girl.” He knew that the young Slayer didn’t deserve his anger. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Buffy got an apartment?”
“Yes, she has the moved into the old principal’s office. It’s on the top floor. Would you like me to take you there?”
“No need to. Let her know I’ll be there in a minute.”
“As you wish, sir.” The girl had almost ducked halfway out the door when he called after her.
“Did she say what she wanted?”
This time, the girl fully opened the door, stepping halfway in. “No, she didn’t. But she seemed very upset.” She smiled almost apologetically. When he didn’t reply, she turned on her heel and left the room.
It took Spike almost five minutes to slip a new shirt over his head, his shoulder screaming in pain. Putting on his boot again was even worse.
Just as he walked – or limped for that matter – out of his room, he bumped into Andrew. The young man smiled sheepishly.
“Hey Spike. How’s the foot?”
The vampire blinked. “Is there anything that remains private around here?”
“Kinda not. It’s a house full of girls after all.” Andrew shrugged as though that explained it all.
“What else is running the rumor mill?” Spike nodded down the corridor, nudging the other man down the hall.
Andrew hesitated for a moment. “That you and Buffy had a… falling-out. That you’re acting weird. That sort of thing. But we don’t know any specifics.”
“That’s something then.” They stopped in front of the staircase. “You don’t happen to have an elevator, do you?”
“Nope, sorry.”
Spike shrugged. “Figures.” He started half-hopping, half-limping up the stairs.
“Spike?” Andrew called after him, and the vampire turned. “If you want to talk…”
A wry smirk tugged at Spike’s lips. “Thanks, kid. You got to wait until hell freezes over before I share my heart with you.”
“Actually,” Andrew shifted from one leg to the other. “That kind of happened last year. Well, it didn’t actually freeze but Willow cast a spell and it got pretty cold around there.”
Spike looked at him for a long, incredulous moment. And then he blinked. “No.” With that, he turned and continued up the stairs.
*
He found Buffy’s apartment without problems. It was the only apartment on that floor, and he could smell her almost immediately.
In front of her door, he stopped. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to happy that she wanted to see him. On the one hand, it might be a chance to – not make things right – but at least to make them better. On the other hand, she might tell him to get lost.
Hesitantly, he raised a hand and knocked.
“Come in,” Buffy called from the inside.
Slowly, he pushed the door open and entered the apartment. Buffy stood opposite the door, looking out the window into the night.
“You wanted to see me?” Spike leaned against the door, taking his weight off his foot.
“No,” Buffy replied coolly “But I need to show you something.” She turned to him, her eyes circled by a touch of red. “You want a beer?”
He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “Sure.”
“Sit. Anna told you to go easy on the foot.” The Slayer disappeared into the kitchen while Spike limped over to the couch. She came back a moment later with two uncapped bottles of cool beer, condensation forming on the glass.
“You wanted to show me something?” He nodded his thanks while slight confusion marred his brows.
“Yeah,” Buffy set the bottles on the coffee table, turning to her TV set. “A couple of years ago, Andrew gave me this for my birthday. I don’t know how he made sure it survived the apocalypse but he said something about a server and a download or something.” She picked up an almost trashy adorned DVD case, all in pink with loads of glitter.
“Online storage. Got to give the kid some credit. He’s smarter than he looks.” Spike took a sip from his beer, thankful for at least some alcohol.
“Wait until you see this,” she replied dryly, her tone carrying both amusement and that underlying anger.
She popped the DVD into the player, switching on the TV. Then she sat down next to him, her hands fidgeting with the remote. And then she pressed play.
*
The music played before the pictures rolled, a song Spike remembered all too well. A song that had almost become his and Buffy’s wedding song.
“That little ponce,” he muttered under his breath, his hand darting up to his mouth, his fingers touching his lips.
The pictures that followed startled him more than anything. Some of them were shaky and little out of focus but all of them had the same theme. Him and Buffy.
Here she stood in the living room of the house, giving one of her infamous speeches. He stood behind her, leaning against the wall as her silent guard, looking at her from under hooded eyes.
In the next scene, Buffy sat at the kitchen counter, cleaning a slime-coated crossbow. Spike came up from the basement, a bright red mug in his hand. A few words were exchanged, dubbed with Bette Midler’s song. The vampire took a blood-bag from the fridge, emptied it into the mug, then put it into the microwave. Buffy’s face twisted in disgust, Spike said something, then she laughed, at total ease with the situation.
Up next came a scene Spike had replayed in his mind during lonely days and empty nights. The night after the dating fiasco when they had sat in the living-room and Buffy had told him to stay.
Others followed, most of them quite similar. Spike hadn’t even known that they had been filmed. All these moments had been quiet moments, moments of silence and almost peace. Just the two of them, caught in seconds of… yeah, of intimacy, even innocence.
Spike heard Buffy swallow beside him, not daring to look at her. He knew that she wouldn’t want him to see her crying.
An uneasy silence fell into the room when the video ended. If Spike’s heart had been beating, it would have skipped a couple of beats by now. He had never shy for words but right now, they failed him altogether.
When Buffy finally spoke, her voice was very quiet without a sign of tears.
“That’s the way you looked at me,” she said simply and it took him a moment to understand what she meant. “That’s the way you looked at me that night at my house, before I jumped off the tower. And when you first saw me after I got back. And when we… whenever we… I never wanted to see it back then. It’s the way you looked at me after you returned with your soul. Most of the time you thought I didn’t notice. But I did.” Her voice became even quieter, even a little shaky. “I needed it.”
She paused, recollecting her thoughts. For a second, Spike tried to say something but he knew that everything he’d try to say would come out wrong.
“You always had my back, always. If I wanted it or not, you were always there. I gave you every reason to leave but you didn’t. You’re the only part of my crazy world that I could always count on. Because at the end of the day I knew that you would look at me like that.” She swallowed hard as new tears started to rise inside her. “I can’t go through this without you. I need you to look at me like that again. I need it, Spike.”
Spike closed his eyes at the searing pain that coursed through him. He knew that she was right and he hated it. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but he knew that his words would carry no meaning, not to her, not even to himself. There was nothing he could possibly say but, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Buffy had swallowed some of her tears but her voice was still shaking a little. “You would do it again anytime anyway.”
He nodded weakly. “Yeah.”
“I wish I could hate you. But I can’t.” The Slayer let out a dry, little chuckle. “I just wish you wouldn’t have played the hero for once.”
“And I wish you wouldn’t forgive me.” He took another sip from his beer, its contents growing warmer even in his cold hands.
Again, she chuckled, this time even more dryly. “Yeah well, I guess that’s just what we do.” She picked up her bottle and took a swig. For a long while, they both remained silent. “So tell me, why the new haircut?”
Spike blinked in confusion. “What? That’s it? You show me the world’s most gruesome home video and things just go back to normal?” Not that he wasn’t happy with the turn of events but still…
Buffy looked at him as if he’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Normal? There is no normal for us, don’t you know? There never has been and there never will. I’m not delusional. I’m just… I’m trying, okay? I thought you were dead for a decade, and now you’re back telling me that you can’t love me anymore. So I’m trying.”
Again, silence.
With an exhausted sigh, Spike leaned back against the cushion, balancing the bottle on his belt buckle. “Billy Idol did a Christmas album a while back. Sucked pretty badly. People started to give me strange looks because of the hair so I shaved it off. ‘Sides, thirty years with the same look… gets kinda old.”
***
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
’and then the man he steps right up to the microphone
and says at last just as the time bell rings
'thank you goodnight now it's time to go home'
- “sultans of swing” by dire straits
When Buffy woke up, the sun filtered lazily through the curtains of her apartment, dipping the place in a warm, orangish light. She shifted from her slightly cramped position on the couch, moaning when a painful kink in her back called for attention.
“You okay?”
The Slayer gave a start and almost fell off the couch at the sound of Spike’s voice only a foot from her ear. A chill ran down her spine. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Slowly, she sat up, her head spinning a little with the change of position. “Good morning,” she grumbled then, running a hand through her tousled hair.
“Mornin’,” he replied, stretching his legs, his knee popping audibly.
It was then, that she realised that she had been sleeping with her head on his thigh. “What happened?” The moment she said it, she saw a slight touch of disappointment cross his face.
“Relax. We talked, you fell asleep. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay. Not like it matters anyway.”
There was a knock on the door, nipping the uncomfortable silence in the bud. “Come in,” Buffy called out.
That same young girl who had come to get Spike popped her head in. “Miss Summers, Miss Rosenberg would like to speak to you.” Once more, a crimson blush crept on her face.
“Thanks, Cecilia. We’ll be down in a minute.”
When the girl was gone, Buffy rose to her feet, stretching her arms over her head.
“What’s with that girl?” Spike asked, his hand darting up to his shoulder to check on his bandage.
“What do you mean?”
“She keeps calling me sir. And whenever I’m around she blushes.”
“Maybe she’s got a crush on you.” She winked at him, shaking out her hair.
“You think?”
“Handsome fellow like you? Can’t blame her, exactly.”
“You say the sweetest things,” he all but smiled at her.
A beat passed between them. They just looked at one another in comfortable silence until Buffy blinked and lowered her gaze.
“Right, then. I’ll let you freshen up.” Wincing, Spike rose to his feet. “See you down there then.” He still held his arm a little stiff but his limp had gotten better over night. He was already by the door when Buffy spoke again.
“Spike?” He turned toward her. “I’m sorry.” He raised his eyebrow in confusion. “For saying that I wished you hadn’t come back. I don’t. I want you to have come back. I was just… well, I’m still angry but I know why you did it.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, Buffy. You the least of all people.”
“I know. I just wanted you to know.” For a second, she hesitated. “I need you in this. I have to know that we can… work this out.”
He looked at her for almost a full minute. Then he nodded, just once, and then he left.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Buffy knew that she had screwed it up. She had never been good with the morning after, and with Spike, it was even worse.
Back in their… rough days, he had made it easy for her. Most of the time, he had pretended to be asleep when she knew he wasn’t, giving her the chance to sneak out of his crypt without having to talk to him. It would have lead to the same dreary conversation anyway. But now…
Before she went down to the conference room, she changed quickly, raked a brush through her hair, and splashed some water into her face to hide the signs of an almost sleepless night.
*
Willow sat at her laptop, a mug of hot, pitch-black coffee in front of her. The witch also looked as if she’d pulled an all-nighter.
When Buffy came in, Spike sat at the end of the table, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He didn’t even look up when she entered the room.
“You wanted to talk to us,” Buffy sat down on the table, her back to the vampire.
“Yeah, I just wanted to brief you in before I tell the girls. The book you brought me,” Willow looked up at Spike, “gives an explanation as to why nobody followed you guys out. The Fates have been dormant for a while now. If the Secte has actually awakened them, they might still be weak. From what I’ve read they sort of have to be charged with… a life force, if you wish. As long as they are weak, they have to be protected from those who mean to harm them. Which would be us. Once they have gathered enough power, they are free to work on their own, go wherever they want.”
“Just like when we reassembled the judge,” Spike said, stopping the drumming. “At first, we had to bring him his victims and then he could just…,” he snapped his fingers, “zap them like that.”
Buffy glanced over her shoulder. “Never thought your destructo plans would eventually come in handy.” Her face lit up with a bright grin. “Oh, can I have a rocket launcher again?”
“I don’t think it’ll do us any good,” Willow smiled apologetically. “I don’t know how to kill them yet. Or if they can be killed at all. Things as ancient as these ladies are usually pretty tough to kill. Maybe I can figure out a way to banish them again.”
“Sounds good to me. But I’d say you better hurry before the Secte has fed them enough lives.”
“I’m already trying to figure out a way. I might have a solution by tonight.”
“So we’ll hit the factory again tonight. Just with more throttle this time.” Buffy hopped off the table, propping her hands on her hips. “I say we leave after sun-down.” She looked at Spike who just shrugged.
“Anything after sun-down is fine by me.”
*
Buffy knocked on his door while Spike was struggling into his Kevlar vest. His command for her to come in came out as a pain-ridden snarl.
“You sure you’re okay? You can stay here if you’re in too much pain.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “And miss out on all the fun? You kidding?” He tried to fasten a strap around his waist but winced in pain. “Can you give me a hand here?”
“Sure.” She stepped up to him, took the strap out of his hand, pulling it through the buckle. Her fingers brushed over his palm and for a brief moment, his fingers closed around hers. Buffy tensed, blinked, then tried to shake it off. “How’s your foot?”
“Still hurts but I can walk it off. Shoulder’s worse, though. Can hardly lift my arm.” Spike demonstrated his impairment by trying to raise his arm a little.
“You should really stay here. I can’t afford to be looking after you.”
“You won’t have to. I’m not going to let you go in there alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have a bunch of feet-shuffling Slayers with me who are dying to kick some ass.”
“And I’m already dead. Seems like I got seniority on that one. I’m not going to argue with you on this.”
Buffy sighed in defeat. “Your call. If you get dusted, I’m not going to cry for you.” She turned on her heel to leave. Before the door clicked shut, she muttered, “Bonehead.”
*
Once more, the factory lay in darkness, looming dangerously over the street. At least this time, the Slayer and the vampire weren’t alone. Half a dozen Slayers were with them, twice as much scattered around the perimeter, all of them connected via their communication system.
And this time, Buffy carried an almost obnoxiously large flashlight, piercing the pitch black hallway with a bobbing ray of light.
The group made their way down the hall toward the door that led down into the basement. To Buffy’s surprise, they weren’t greeted by any vampires or screeching creatures. The Secte seemed to feel pretty secure in their dingy little hide-out. That, or they were just plain stupid.
In the harsh light of the flashlight, Buffy motioned the gang to move quietly in pairs. The door gave an unhealthy squeak when the Slayer pulled it open. For a brief moment nobody even dared to breath. When nothing happened, they slowly descended into the basement.
Halfway down the stairs, Spike reached for the flashlight, pushing it slightly down. In the remaining light, he pointed down the stairs to another steel-framed door, then gestured for the rest of the gang to stay behind. Trying not to let his limp show all too much, he approached the door alone. He laid a hand on the door, then pressed his ear against the steel. His eyes flickered shut as he tried to concentrate on the sounds that came from the other side. After a moment or two, he pushed away from the door again, returning to the group.
“There are bunch of people down there,” he murmured, more to Buffy than to the rest of the gang. “Can’t tell if it’s vampires or not. But there were also some girlie voices.”
“The Fates?” Buffy shone the flashlight up into her face, the light casting spooky shadows on her features.
“Likely,” he blinked irritated. “Can you stop with the shadow puppets? That’s creepy.”
“Sorry,” she lowered the beam again. “Let’s move in then. We go first, the rest of you follow. You know the formation.” Beside Buffy, Spike pulled his gun from the holster at his leg, wincing as he moved his arm. “Are you really sure you’re up for this?”
Without so much as glancing down at her, he limped down the stairs again, opening the door in one un-ceremonial swoop.
*
The room beyond was – much to everybody’s surprise – illuminated by a few dozens of candles. They were placed in a variety of candleholders scattered about the room, dipping the basement into a warm, flickering light.
“Well, that’s kinda… romantic,” Buffy murmured when she had caught up with the vampire.
“Sissy,” he shot halfway over his shoulder to her.
She wanted to reply something but the moment she opened her mouth, a young man in a black silk robe stepped out of the shadows, his hands hidden somewhere in the folds of his clothing.
“My, my… who do we have here? Didn’t you get enough last time?”
Buffy glanced at Spike, raising an eyebrow. “Is talking like that never going to get old?”
“Guess not. But we would miss something, wouldn’t we?”
Before the Slayer could say something more, she was tackled from one side and thrown to the ground. A vampire now sat astride her, throwing wild punches at her face.
A shot from Spike’s gun barked all too loud in the basement but the bullet missed as he, too, was jostled to the ground.
Buffy struggled to regain the upper hand. She twisted her legs wildly, throwing the vampire to one side. When she glanced around her, she saw half a dozen vampires attacking the rest of the group.
Not that the average vampire posed much of a threat to the bunch of Slayers but they were a nasty distraction from their actual target. Two or three of the girls had already gained the upper hand, reaching for their weapons.
Just as the others regained control over the fight, the building shook with a violent tremor, bricks crumbled somewhere in the dark, pipes creaked in the walls.
Three female voices blending into one rang through the basement and echoed off the walls, magnifying the command to an almost unbearable cacophony.
“QUIET!”
And then, time around them froze.
***
and says at last just as the time bell rings
'thank you goodnight now it's time to go home'
- “sultans of swing” by dire straits
When Buffy woke up, the sun filtered lazily through the curtains of her apartment, dipping the place in a warm, orangish light. She shifted from her slightly cramped position on the couch, moaning when a painful kink in her back called for attention.
“You okay?”
The Slayer gave a start and almost fell off the couch at the sound of Spike’s voice only a foot from her ear. A chill ran down her spine. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Slowly, she sat up, her head spinning a little with the change of position. “Good morning,” she grumbled then, running a hand through her tousled hair.
“Mornin’,” he replied, stretching his legs, his knee popping audibly.
It was then, that she realised that she had been sleeping with her head on his thigh. “What happened?” The moment she said it, she saw a slight touch of disappointment cross his face.
“Relax. We talked, you fell asleep. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay. Not like it matters anyway.”
There was a knock on the door, nipping the uncomfortable silence in the bud. “Come in,” Buffy called out.
That same young girl who had come to get Spike popped her head in. “Miss Summers, Miss Rosenberg would like to speak to you.” Once more, a crimson blush crept on her face.
“Thanks, Cecilia. We’ll be down in a minute.”
When the girl was gone, Buffy rose to her feet, stretching her arms over her head.
“What’s with that girl?” Spike asked, his hand darting up to his shoulder to check on his bandage.
“What do you mean?”
“She keeps calling me sir. And whenever I’m around she blushes.”
“Maybe she’s got a crush on you.” She winked at him, shaking out her hair.
“You think?”
“Handsome fellow like you? Can’t blame her, exactly.”
“You say the sweetest things,” he all but smiled at her.
A beat passed between them. They just looked at one another in comfortable silence until Buffy blinked and lowered her gaze.
“Right, then. I’ll let you freshen up.” Wincing, Spike rose to his feet. “See you down there then.” He still held his arm a little stiff but his limp had gotten better over night. He was already by the door when Buffy spoke again.
“Spike?” He turned toward her. “I’m sorry.” He raised his eyebrow in confusion. “For saying that I wished you hadn’t come back. I don’t. I want you to have come back. I was just… well, I’m still angry but I know why you did it.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, Buffy. You the least of all people.”
“I know. I just wanted you to know.” For a second, she hesitated. “I need you in this. I have to know that we can… work this out.”
He looked at her for almost a full minute. Then he nodded, just once, and then he left.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Buffy knew that she had screwed it up. She had never been good with the morning after, and with Spike, it was even worse.
Back in their… rough days, he had made it easy for her. Most of the time, he had pretended to be asleep when she knew he wasn’t, giving her the chance to sneak out of his crypt without having to talk to him. It would have lead to the same dreary conversation anyway. But now…
Before she went down to the conference room, she changed quickly, raked a brush through her hair, and splashed some water into her face to hide the signs of an almost sleepless night.
*
Willow sat at her laptop, a mug of hot, pitch-black coffee in front of her. The witch also looked as if she’d pulled an all-nighter.
When Buffy came in, Spike sat at the end of the table, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He didn’t even look up when she entered the room.
“You wanted to talk to us,” Buffy sat down on the table, her back to the vampire.
“Yeah, I just wanted to brief you in before I tell the girls. The book you brought me,” Willow looked up at Spike, “gives an explanation as to why nobody followed you guys out. The Fates have been dormant for a while now. If the Secte has actually awakened them, they might still be weak. From what I’ve read they sort of have to be charged with… a life force, if you wish. As long as they are weak, they have to be protected from those who mean to harm them. Which would be us. Once they have gathered enough power, they are free to work on their own, go wherever they want.”
“Just like when we reassembled the judge,” Spike said, stopping the drumming. “At first, we had to bring him his victims and then he could just…,” he snapped his fingers, “zap them like that.”
Buffy glanced over her shoulder. “Never thought your destructo plans would eventually come in handy.” Her face lit up with a bright grin. “Oh, can I have a rocket launcher again?”
“I don’t think it’ll do us any good,” Willow smiled apologetically. “I don’t know how to kill them yet. Or if they can be killed at all. Things as ancient as these ladies are usually pretty tough to kill. Maybe I can figure out a way to banish them again.”
“Sounds good to me. But I’d say you better hurry before the Secte has fed them enough lives.”
“I’m already trying to figure out a way. I might have a solution by tonight.”
“So we’ll hit the factory again tonight. Just with more throttle this time.” Buffy hopped off the table, propping her hands on her hips. “I say we leave after sun-down.” She looked at Spike who just shrugged.
“Anything after sun-down is fine by me.”
*
Buffy knocked on his door while Spike was struggling into his Kevlar vest. His command for her to come in came out as a pain-ridden snarl.
“You sure you’re okay? You can stay here if you’re in too much pain.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “And miss out on all the fun? You kidding?” He tried to fasten a strap around his waist but winced in pain. “Can you give me a hand here?”
“Sure.” She stepped up to him, took the strap out of his hand, pulling it through the buckle. Her fingers brushed over his palm and for a brief moment, his fingers closed around hers. Buffy tensed, blinked, then tried to shake it off. “How’s your foot?”
“Still hurts but I can walk it off. Shoulder’s worse, though. Can hardly lift my arm.” Spike demonstrated his impairment by trying to raise his arm a little.
“You should really stay here. I can’t afford to be looking after you.”
“You won’t have to. I’m not going to let you go in there alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have a bunch of feet-shuffling Slayers with me who are dying to kick some ass.”
“And I’m already dead. Seems like I got seniority on that one. I’m not going to argue with you on this.”
Buffy sighed in defeat. “Your call. If you get dusted, I’m not going to cry for you.” She turned on her heel to leave. Before the door clicked shut, she muttered, “Bonehead.”
*
Once more, the factory lay in darkness, looming dangerously over the street. At least this time, the Slayer and the vampire weren’t alone. Half a dozen Slayers were with them, twice as much scattered around the perimeter, all of them connected via their communication system.
And this time, Buffy carried an almost obnoxiously large flashlight, piercing the pitch black hallway with a bobbing ray of light.
The group made their way down the hall toward the door that led down into the basement. To Buffy’s surprise, they weren’t greeted by any vampires or screeching creatures. The Secte seemed to feel pretty secure in their dingy little hide-out. That, or they were just plain stupid.
In the harsh light of the flashlight, Buffy motioned the gang to move quietly in pairs. The door gave an unhealthy squeak when the Slayer pulled it open. For a brief moment nobody even dared to breath. When nothing happened, they slowly descended into the basement.
Halfway down the stairs, Spike reached for the flashlight, pushing it slightly down. In the remaining light, he pointed down the stairs to another steel-framed door, then gestured for the rest of the gang to stay behind. Trying not to let his limp show all too much, he approached the door alone. He laid a hand on the door, then pressed his ear against the steel. His eyes flickered shut as he tried to concentrate on the sounds that came from the other side. After a moment or two, he pushed away from the door again, returning to the group.
“There are bunch of people down there,” he murmured, more to Buffy than to the rest of the gang. “Can’t tell if it’s vampires or not. But there were also some girlie voices.”
“The Fates?” Buffy shone the flashlight up into her face, the light casting spooky shadows on her features.
“Likely,” he blinked irritated. “Can you stop with the shadow puppets? That’s creepy.”
“Sorry,” she lowered the beam again. “Let’s move in then. We go first, the rest of you follow. You know the formation.” Beside Buffy, Spike pulled his gun from the holster at his leg, wincing as he moved his arm. “Are you really sure you’re up for this?”
Without so much as glancing down at her, he limped down the stairs again, opening the door in one un-ceremonial swoop.
*
The room beyond was – much to everybody’s surprise – illuminated by a few dozens of candles. They were placed in a variety of candleholders scattered about the room, dipping the basement into a warm, flickering light.
“Well, that’s kinda… romantic,” Buffy murmured when she had caught up with the vampire.
“Sissy,” he shot halfway over his shoulder to her.
She wanted to reply something but the moment she opened her mouth, a young man in a black silk robe stepped out of the shadows, his hands hidden somewhere in the folds of his clothing.
“My, my… who do we have here? Didn’t you get enough last time?”
Buffy glanced at Spike, raising an eyebrow. “Is talking like that never going to get old?”
“Guess not. But we would miss something, wouldn’t we?”
Before the Slayer could say something more, she was tackled from one side and thrown to the ground. A vampire now sat astride her, throwing wild punches at her face.
A shot from Spike’s gun barked all too loud in the basement but the bullet missed as he, too, was jostled to the ground.
Buffy struggled to regain the upper hand. She twisted her legs wildly, throwing the vampire to one side. When she glanced around her, she saw half a dozen vampires attacking the rest of the group.
Not that the average vampire posed much of a threat to the bunch of Slayers but they were a nasty distraction from their actual target. Two or three of the girls had already gained the upper hand, reaching for their weapons.
Just as the others regained control over the fight, the building shook with a violent tremor, bricks crumbled somewhere in the dark, pipes creaked in the walls.
Three female voices blending into one rang through the basement and echoed off the walls, magnifying the command to an almost unbearable cacophony.
“QUIET!”
And then, time around them froze.
***
Chapter 12
Chapter 12
A/N: Now that the Fates are making their entrance, here’s something for clarification. I came up with the fancy idea that these ladies always think the same things. When one of them speaks, the others are chipping in from time to time. When they are talking all at once, the words will be in italics. Just so you know. Now enjoy :D
*
’oh you were just a roller coaster memory
i don't know why I was even passing through
i saw you making a date with Destiny
when he came around here asking after you’
- “it never rains” by dire straits
When Buffy looked around her, the Slayers who had accompanied them were still fighting the vampires. They were still reaching for their weapons, one of them was just plunging her stake through the undead’s heart.
Time was not entirely frozen. It just seemed as though they were standing inside a bubble while the world around them moved in very slow motion. The motions were almost impossibly slow and blurry as if dipped in molasses.
“What the hell?” In one swoop, with her words, the Slayer drove her stake through the vampire that had attacked her.
“What’s going on?” Once again, Spike’s weapon barked and his attacker exploded into a cloud of dust.
He got his answer when three women stepped out of the shadows.
The three most beautiful women he had ever seen. Really. Ever.
There were all of equal height, the one in the middle shorter by a hair’s breadth.
The left one had pitch-black hair that curled all the way down to her waist. Her eyes were dark brown or, actually, black, her lips a luscious red. She had almost feline features, a sharp chin and a cute little nose. Her perfectly shaped body was clad in black leather that she wore like a second skin. Or like her own skin for that matter, since it left all but nothing to the imagination. Her long, long legs ended in a pair of dangerously high-heeled boots. Lachesis, who sings of the things that were.
The shorter one in the middle had a wild red mane that framed her pale face. Her eyes sparkled in emerald green, and there were even a few freckles on her nose. She, too, wore a black leather ensemble that accentuated her ample breasts. Atropos, who sings of the things to be.
The one on the right was of the same striking beauty, her hair blond, her eyes azure blue. In contrast to the others, her clothing was as white as snow, standing out against her slightly tanned skin. Clotho, who sings of the things that are.
”Spike?“ Buffy’s voice was somewhere to his right, blurred and dull. ”Earth to Spike?“ A hand appeared in his field of vision.
The vampire blinked a few times, trying to focus on something other than the startling beauty of the Fates. ”Huh?“
“You’re gawking.”
“Really?” He tried to sound confused but knew that she was right. But how could he not be gawking? Those three ladies were what millions and millions of women wanted to look like, trying to achieve that goal by all sorts of methods. They were perfect, a spitting image of every man’s wildest fantasies. And despite being a vampire, ensouled and robbed of his emotional memories, he was still a man. And he was thinking some very manly thoughts at the moment.
“Yeah-huh.” The Slayer sounded slightly pissed by his lack of attention.
Spike cleared his throat, blinking again. “Sorry.”
“The Slayer,” Clotho said, her voice warm and soft.
“The Slayer,” Lachesis repeated, her voice husky as though she had smoked too many cigarettes.
“And,” Atropos continued.
“A vampire,” the three women spoke all at once, the unison of their voices ringing like chimes dipped in the most delicious honey.
A chill ran down Spike’s spine and he had to close his eyes, trying to ward off the sensation.
The Fates spread around them in a perfectly symmetrical triangle.
“What the hell is going on?” Buffy made a step towards Spike whose gaze shifted from one woman to the next then to the third and back again.
“We haven’t seen the Slayer in two thousand years,” Lachesis started and the others chimed in. “She looks pretty.”
“Look,” Atropos turned to the other gelatinized Slayers. “There are more. They are all Slayers. Awakened by magic.”
“This one is real,” Clotho made a step towards Buffy, cocking her pretty head to one side. “She was the first.” She made another step. The Slayer wanted to back away but was frozen in place. “She is smart. And she is… in love. With… the vampire.”
The Fates focused on Spike again who didn’t look all to concerned about the sudden attention. In an instant, the three women had closed in on him. Clotho in front of him, Lachesis and Atropos behind him, a little to his sides.
As if on a silent command, they laid their right hands on him, Clotho on his chest, the others on his shoulders. Suddenly, the pain in his shoulder seemed to diminish. As a general notion, nothing around him seemed to affect him.
Clotho’s stare seemed to penetrate him, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “He is special, this one.”
The Fates started to circle around him, Lachesis stepping into his vision.
“He was bad once.” The way the words rolled off the woman’s tongue, they didn’t sound all that bad. “But he fought to become a champion. He fought for her. For the Slayer.”
A thick haze started to cloud Spike’s perception. His vision blurred and bells started to chime in his ears. He didn’t quite understand what the Fates were saying but their voices started to touch something inside him. Not only the parts that were usually controlled by his hormones but something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Again, Clotho stood in front of him. “Now he has a soul. He is unique.” She ran a hand over her cheek, her fingernails slightly raking at his skin. “His love is so pure and strong. But there is something else inside him. Something is holding him back. He doesn’t remember.”
Now, the slightly shorter Atropos stepped in front of him, her red hair almost seemed like a halo of liquid flame. “He will. He will remember.” She cupped his face with her hands. “A faerie has taken his memories but he will remember. What is inside him is too strong to be held back. It is fighting. It’s clawing its way out. He will need it to protect the girl.” She pressed her body against his and leaned into him until she could whisper into his ear. “You will remember.”
With that, the woman stepped away from him, snapping her slender fingers.
Time around them collapsed, picking up full speed again. The vampires were on them with more force than before. Even more appeared from the darkness, attacking the Slayers in pairs now.
Buffy was tackled to ground once more, this time by a bulky fellow with a long ponytail. His hands, which had to be the size of small frying pans, closed around her throat, blocking off her air. Stars started to dance in front of her eyes as she tried to reach for her stake. She must have dropped it when the vampire had attacked her. Her hands reached out into nothing.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw her fellow Slayers kicking some vampire asses. Some role model she was. Sometimes those girls seemed to be a lot stronger than she was. Maybe she was just getting old.
She would definitely be dead within a couple more seconds if she didn’t get this hulk off her. Her vision had already turned into a hazy tunnel, closing even more with every passing moment. Maybe that was what Spike had been talking about more than a decade ago. That one good day a vampire needed to kill a Slayer.
She pressed her hands against the vampire’s chest in a feeble attempt to push him off. But to no avail. Two more seconds and the world around her turned black.
The weight was lifted off her, and air flooded her lungs. The light sprinkle of dust hit her face, and she coughed when she inhaled it.
“Buffy?”
She felt a hand in her face and blinked her eyes open. Spike was kneeling beside her, his weapon in one hand; the other was brushing dust out of her face.
“You okay?”
The haze that had clouded his features not a minute ago was gone. Now, his eyes shown with fear and concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled up at him, reaching up for his arm.
The world around Spike faltered.
When Buffy’s hand touched his arm, pain so sharp and vicious that it would have killed a human being in an instant lanced through him, blinding him. He stumbled away from her, scuttling across the floor into the darkness.
Buffy struggled to her feet. When she rose, she saw the pleased look on Atropos’ face. “What did you do to him?”
The woman let out a velvety laugh. “I helped him remember.”
“Why? How?”
“Because I can,” the women replied in unison. “Your vampire is very special,” this time it was just Atropos. “His love for you is stronger than any faerie magic. And we hate faeries.”
Buffy frowned at the woman in a “what the hell”-fashion then dismissed her, looking for Spike. She found the vampire in a corner behind what appeared to be an old engine of some kind. The sight of him reminded her of the day when he had set up camp in the basement of Sunnydale High.
He had his legs drawn to his body, his arms wrapped around his knees. He stared off into the darkness, his eyes haunted, darker than usual. Although he didn’t need to, he was panting heavily.
The Slayer was on her knees beside him, her hand touching his arm. “Spike? Spike, can you hear me?”
Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. Even though she could hardly see anything in the dim light, she swore that his face was actually shaking, as was his entire body.
“I remember.” Two small words yet they carried entirely too much meaning.
“We will let you go. This time.” Clotho appeared beside Buffy, kneeling down as well. She ran a hand over Spike’s knee. “Take your girls and go.”
The Slayer peered past the Fate to the other girls. Some of them had gotten rid of their attackers but others were held captive. The vampires didn’t try to kill the girls, they just held them as if waiting for another order. Something told Buffy that they would be better off if she followed Clotho’s advice. They could handle the vampires but they still didn’t know how to handle the Fates. And with Spike’s… weakened state, things weren’t looking all too bright for them.
“Spike?” Buffy tugged slightly on his arm. “Let’s go.”
“I remember,” he repeated, his voice hollow.
“Yeah, that’s great, sweetheart. But let’s skip down memory lane later and let’s get out of here, okay? Come on.” She tugged at his arm.
The vampire blinked slowly, and his eyes seemed to focus a little more. “Okay.”
Buffy pulled him to his feet, and they pushed past Clotho towards the door. “Come on, girls. Let’s go.”
The vampires let go of the other Slayer as if told to do so by a silent command.
“We will meet again,” Atropos called after them when they hustled up the stairs. “And the next time we meet, it will be to the death.”
***
A/N: Now that the Fates are making their entrance, here’s something for clarification. I came up with the fancy idea that these ladies always think the same things. When one of them speaks, the others are chipping in from time to time. When they are talking all at once, the words will be in italics. Just so you know. Now enjoy :D
*
i don't know why I was even passing through
i saw you making a date with Destiny
when he came around here asking after you’
- “it never rains” by dire straits
When Buffy looked around her, the Slayers who had accompanied them were still fighting the vampires. They were still reaching for their weapons, one of them was just plunging her stake through the undead’s heart.
Time was not entirely frozen. It just seemed as though they were standing inside a bubble while the world around them moved in very slow motion. The motions were almost impossibly slow and blurry as if dipped in molasses.
“What the hell?” In one swoop, with her words, the Slayer drove her stake through the vampire that had attacked her.
“What’s going on?” Once again, Spike’s weapon barked and his attacker exploded into a cloud of dust.
He got his answer when three women stepped out of the shadows.
The three most beautiful women he had ever seen. Really. Ever.
There were all of equal height, the one in the middle shorter by a hair’s breadth.
The left one had pitch-black hair that curled all the way down to her waist. Her eyes were dark brown or, actually, black, her lips a luscious red. She had almost feline features, a sharp chin and a cute little nose. Her perfectly shaped body was clad in black leather that she wore like a second skin. Or like her own skin for that matter, since it left all but nothing to the imagination. Her long, long legs ended in a pair of dangerously high-heeled boots. Lachesis, who sings of the things that were.
The shorter one in the middle had a wild red mane that framed her pale face. Her eyes sparkled in emerald green, and there were even a few freckles on her nose. She, too, wore a black leather ensemble that accentuated her ample breasts. Atropos, who sings of the things to be.
The one on the right was of the same striking beauty, her hair blond, her eyes azure blue. In contrast to the others, her clothing was as white as snow, standing out against her slightly tanned skin. Clotho, who sings of the things that are.
”Spike?“ Buffy’s voice was somewhere to his right, blurred and dull. ”Earth to Spike?“ A hand appeared in his field of vision.
The vampire blinked a few times, trying to focus on something other than the startling beauty of the Fates. ”Huh?“
“You’re gawking.”
“Really?” He tried to sound confused but knew that she was right. But how could he not be gawking? Those three ladies were what millions and millions of women wanted to look like, trying to achieve that goal by all sorts of methods. They were perfect, a spitting image of every man’s wildest fantasies. And despite being a vampire, ensouled and robbed of his emotional memories, he was still a man. And he was thinking some very manly thoughts at the moment.
“Yeah-huh.” The Slayer sounded slightly pissed by his lack of attention.
Spike cleared his throat, blinking again. “Sorry.”
“The Slayer,” Clotho said, her voice warm and soft.
“The Slayer,” Lachesis repeated, her voice husky as though she had smoked too many cigarettes.
“And,” Atropos continued.
“A vampire,” the three women spoke all at once, the unison of their voices ringing like chimes dipped in the most delicious honey.
A chill ran down Spike’s spine and he had to close his eyes, trying to ward off the sensation.
The Fates spread around them in a perfectly symmetrical triangle.
“What the hell is going on?” Buffy made a step towards Spike whose gaze shifted from one woman to the next then to the third and back again.
“We haven’t seen the Slayer in two thousand years,” Lachesis started and the others chimed in. “She looks pretty.”
“Look,” Atropos turned to the other gelatinized Slayers. “There are more. They are all Slayers. Awakened by magic.”
“This one is real,” Clotho made a step towards Buffy, cocking her pretty head to one side. “She was the first.” She made another step. The Slayer wanted to back away but was frozen in place. “She is smart. And she is… in love. With… the vampire.”
The Fates focused on Spike again who didn’t look all to concerned about the sudden attention. In an instant, the three women had closed in on him. Clotho in front of him, Lachesis and Atropos behind him, a little to his sides.
As if on a silent command, they laid their right hands on him, Clotho on his chest, the others on his shoulders. Suddenly, the pain in his shoulder seemed to diminish. As a general notion, nothing around him seemed to affect him.
Clotho’s stare seemed to penetrate him, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “He is special, this one.”
The Fates started to circle around him, Lachesis stepping into his vision.
“He was bad once.” The way the words rolled off the woman’s tongue, they didn’t sound all that bad. “But he fought to become a champion. He fought for her. For the Slayer.”
A thick haze started to cloud Spike’s perception. His vision blurred and bells started to chime in his ears. He didn’t quite understand what the Fates were saying but their voices started to touch something inside him. Not only the parts that were usually controlled by his hormones but something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Again, Clotho stood in front of him. “Now he has a soul. He is unique.” She ran a hand over her cheek, her fingernails slightly raking at his skin. “His love is so pure and strong. But there is something else inside him. Something is holding him back. He doesn’t remember.”
Now, the slightly shorter Atropos stepped in front of him, her red hair almost seemed like a halo of liquid flame. “He will. He will remember.” She cupped his face with her hands. “A faerie has taken his memories but he will remember. What is inside him is too strong to be held back. It is fighting. It’s clawing its way out. He will need it to protect the girl.” She pressed her body against his and leaned into him until she could whisper into his ear. “You will remember.”
With that, the woman stepped away from him, snapping her slender fingers.
Time around them collapsed, picking up full speed again. The vampires were on them with more force than before. Even more appeared from the darkness, attacking the Slayers in pairs now.
Buffy was tackled to ground once more, this time by a bulky fellow with a long ponytail. His hands, which had to be the size of small frying pans, closed around her throat, blocking off her air. Stars started to dance in front of her eyes as she tried to reach for her stake. She must have dropped it when the vampire had attacked her. Her hands reached out into nothing.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw her fellow Slayers kicking some vampire asses. Some role model she was. Sometimes those girls seemed to be a lot stronger than she was. Maybe she was just getting old.
She would definitely be dead within a couple more seconds if she didn’t get this hulk off her. Her vision had already turned into a hazy tunnel, closing even more with every passing moment. Maybe that was what Spike had been talking about more than a decade ago. That one good day a vampire needed to kill a Slayer.
She pressed her hands against the vampire’s chest in a feeble attempt to push him off. But to no avail. Two more seconds and the world around her turned black.
The weight was lifted off her, and air flooded her lungs. The light sprinkle of dust hit her face, and she coughed when she inhaled it.
“Buffy?”
She felt a hand in her face and blinked her eyes open. Spike was kneeling beside her, his weapon in one hand; the other was brushing dust out of her face.
“You okay?”
The haze that had clouded his features not a minute ago was gone. Now, his eyes shown with fear and concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled up at him, reaching up for his arm.
The world around Spike faltered.
When Buffy’s hand touched his arm, pain so sharp and vicious that it would have killed a human being in an instant lanced through him, blinding him. He stumbled away from her, scuttling across the floor into the darkness.
Buffy struggled to her feet. When she rose, she saw the pleased look on Atropos’ face. “What did you do to him?”
The woman let out a velvety laugh. “I helped him remember.”
“Why? How?”
“Because I can,” the women replied in unison. “Your vampire is very special,” this time it was just Atropos. “His love for you is stronger than any faerie magic. And we hate faeries.”
Buffy frowned at the woman in a “what the hell”-fashion then dismissed her, looking for Spike. She found the vampire in a corner behind what appeared to be an old engine of some kind. The sight of him reminded her of the day when he had set up camp in the basement of Sunnydale High.
He had his legs drawn to his body, his arms wrapped around his knees. He stared off into the darkness, his eyes haunted, darker than usual. Although he didn’t need to, he was panting heavily.
The Slayer was on her knees beside him, her hand touching his arm. “Spike? Spike, can you hear me?”
Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. Even though she could hardly see anything in the dim light, she swore that his face was actually shaking, as was his entire body.
“I remember.” Two small words yet they carried entirely too much meaning.
“We will let you go. This time.” Clotho appeared beside Buffy, kneeling down as well. She ran a hand over Spike’s knee. “Take your girls and go.”
The Slayer peered past the Fate to the other girls. Some of them had gotten rid of their attackers but others were held captive. The vampires didn’t try to kill the girls, they just held them as if waiting for another order. Something told Buffy that they would be better off if she followed Clotho’s advice. They could handle the vampires but they still didn’t know how to handle the Fates. And with Spike’s… weakened state, things weren’t looking all too bright for them.
“Spike?” Buffy tugged slightly on his arm. “Let’s go.”
“I remember,” he repeated, his voice hollow.
“Yeah, that’s great, sweetheart. But let’s skip down memory lane later and let’s get out of here, okay? Come on.” She tugged at his arm.
The vampire blinked slowly, and his eyes seemed to focus a little more. “Okay.”
Buffy pulled him to his feet, and they pushed past Clotho towards the door. “Come on, girls. Let’s go.”
The vampires let go of the other Slayer as if told to do so by a silent command.
“We will meet again,” Atropos called after them when they hustled up the stairs. “And the next time we meet, it will be to the death.”
***
Chapter 13
Chapter 13
’you had your head on my shoulder you had your hand in my hair
now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care
but believe in me baby and I'll take you away’
- “telegraph road” by dire straits
“These sons of bitches. No, these are the bitch-mothers of sons of bitches.”
Buffy was beyond fury when she stormed into the computer central where Willow had a video conference with Giles and some other woman the Slayer didn’t know.
The witch twirled her chair towards her enraged friend. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“We really need to find a way to go against these Fates. They are annoying the hell out of me.”
Willow turned back to the bank of monitors, addressing the young woman. “Maya, this seems like some urgent Slayer-business. You mind if we pick this up later?”
“No problem. Your work is more important than mine is. I’ll see you later tonight.” With that, the monitor winked to blackness.
“What happened?” Now, Buffy had Willow and Giles’ full attention.
She recounted their trip to Fate-central, including the time-freezing and how Spike had regained his memory. She had to fill Giles in on what had happened to the vampire. Although her former Watcher had known about his resurrection, he apparently didn’t know the full scope of the vampire’s adventures.
“Willow, have you looked into the book Spike brought you?” Giles asked when Buffy finished her story.
“Yes and the part where it comes to defeating them is pretty hazy. It says something about ultimate sacrifices or something.”
“Oh please, no. No ultimate sacrifices. We’ve had way too many ultimate sacrifices already. There’s got be another way.” Buffy started pacing up and down the room.
“I will try to find out more about that, then,” Giles suggested. “And Spike does… he remembers everything?”
Buffy saw the slight twitch on Giles’ face. He might have been Spike’s confidant those past several years but that didn’t mean they particularly liked each other. She stopped her pacing, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I don’t know. He said it but he… he seemed pretty confused. He hasn’t said anything since… He’s in his room now.”
A moment passed in silence. “You should talk to him.” Giles’ voice was calm, resolved.
Buffy looked from him to Willow than back. “I will. I’m just… I wanted to let you know.”
“I will let you know what we found out as soon as possible.” Giles gave her a reassuring smile before he switched his monitor off as well.
“How are you?” Willow rose from her chair, laying a hand on Buffy’s arm.
“I don’t know. I’m… I’m a little scared, actually. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, what this means.” Buffy looked a little helpless and confused.
“You should go and see him. I mean if he remembers… that’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess, yeah.” She pondered that thought for a second, then a little smile spread on her face. “It is. It’s… what I hoped for.”
Willow pulled her friend into a brief but warm hug. “Go see him. I think he needs you.”
“I’ll work through that book. I hope we don’t have to go through that whole sacrifice thing again, so… I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Will.” With that, Buffy headed up to Spike’s room.
***
His body was huddled into the corner of the shower as freezing cold water poured down on him. His black t-shirt hung in shreds on his shaking frame. The wound to his shoulder had started to bleed again as he had raked at it with his fingers. His pants were soaked, clinging to his legs.
Even though Spike wasn’t human, his lips had turned blue by now and his skin looked even more pale than usual. He had his legs drawn to his body, one arm wrapped around his knees. One of his hands was raking through the short stubble on his head, the other all but clawed at the skin of his chest.
The soul had been a joke compared to this. Just a drop in the bucket. A painful drop, no doubt, but this…
Insanity had been bliss.
Memories. Pictures. Sounds. Emotions.
It call came crashing down on him at once, flooding his perception with such intensity that made his head spin. He now knew what had caused the surges of pain he had experience in these past few days.
His aching heart.
As corny the thought was, he knew with perfect clarity that it was true. It was reality.
Ever since the first bliss of not remembering his feelings for Buffy had worn off, he had wished for the memories to return. Knowing that it was still inside him somewhere trying to reach for it day after day, had been a hopeless struggle. It had gnawed at him, torn at him, left a void inside him.
Now, within the blink of an eye, that void had been filled again. When Buffy had touched his arm, all those memories had returned. All of them at once.
He loved her.
He loved her more than anything else. He knew it. He remembered it. He felt with every fiber of his being. It was a feeling so immaculate and pure that there were no words in his language or any other to describe it.
He had never been more aware of the fact. That fact and the prospect that now after all these years, she might actually love him back.
*
Buffy knocked carefully on Spike’s door. After a moment, she entered the room.
“Spike?” She called into the emptiness of the little room. “Are you here?” He had to be. If he had left, she would have known.
She found Spike in the shower, curled into an almost fetal position. He hadn’t closed the sliding doors, and water had splashed over the side of the tub.
Spike didn’t even realise that she was there. When she turned the water off, he only twitched ever so slightly.
Buffy knelt down beside the tub, the knees of her pants soaking in the puddle that had formed in front of the shower. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to touch his arm. Upon the contact, he shied away from her, pressing his body against the tiled wall.
“Don’t,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Please, don’t.”
Buffy’s fingers curled against his arm before she withdrew her hand. “Are you okay?” She knew that he was not. She had seen it the moment he had pulled back from her in the factory.
Jerkily, he shook his head. “It hurts.” Again, she could hardly understand him. “It’s too much.”
She didn’t know what to say. So he really did remember.
Ever since he had told her about his deal with the fearie lord, she had wished for the spell to break. She wanted him to remember, wanted him to look at her as he had back in Sunnydale. And now that he remembered, he acted like he had when he had gotten his soul back.
Scared. Incoherent.
It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.
She had never treated him very well, had never let herself believe that there was something between them. She had waited until the last possible minute to tell him how she felt. And now that she got a second chance, it was still all screwed up.
Why couldn’t she have a normal relationship? Why couldn’t just fall for a regular guy? Why did everything have to be this complicated?
Well, being the Slayer was one part of it.
Dwelling in her thoughts, Buffy hadn’t realised that Spike was now looking at her. His eyes glistened deep blue.
“Go.” Suddenly, his voice had regained some of its usual strength. “Leave me alone.”
Buffy blinked a few times in confusion. “What?”
“You can’t be around me. It’s too much.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks. “Please, go.”
A long beat passed between them. Then, she nodded. When she spoke, her voice sounded very sad. “Okay. If… if you’re… feeling better, you know… where to find me.” For a moment, she remained kneeling beside the shower, then she rose and left the room.
When the door clicked shut behind her, Buffy leaned against it, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Tears were threatening to spill down her cheeks. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from sobbing.
Deep down inside her, a realisation clawed its way to the surface.
It just wasn’t meant to be.
***
now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care
but believe in me baby and I'll take you away’
- “telegraph road” by dire straits
“These sons of bitches. No, these are the bitch-mothers of sons of bitches.”
Buffy was beyond fury when she stormed into the computer central where Willow had a video conference with Giles and some other woman the Slayer didn’t know.
The witch twirled her chair towards her enraged friend. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“We really need to find a way to go against these Fates. They are annoying the hell out of me.”
Willow turned back to the bank of monitors, addressing the young woman. “Maya, this seems like some urgent Slayer-business. You mind if we pick this up later?”
“No problem. Your work is more important than mine is. I’ll see you later tonight.” With that, the monitor winked to blackness.
“What happened?” Now, Buffy had Willow and Giles’ full attention.
She recounted their trip to Fate-central, including the time-freezing and how Spike had regained his memory. She had to fill Giles in on what had happened to the vampire. Although her former Watcher had known about his resurrection, he apparently didn’t know the full scope of the vampire’s adventures.
“Willow, have you looked into the book Spike brought you?” Giles asked when Buffy finished her story.
“Yes and the part where it comes to defeating them is pretty hazy. It says something about ultimate sacrifices or something.”
“Oh please, no. No ultimate sacrifices. We’ve had way too many ultimate sacrifices already. There’s got be another way.” Buffy started pacing up and down the room.
“I will try to find out more about that, then,” Giles suggested. “And Spike does… he remembers everything?”
Buffy saw the slight twitch on Giles’ face. He might have been Spike’s confidant those past several years but that didn’t mean they particularly liked each other. She stopped her pacing, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, her arms crossed over her chest.
“I don’t know. He said it but he… he seemed pretty confused. He hasn’t said anything since… He’s in his room now.”
A moment passed in silence. “You should talk to him.” Giles’ voice was calm, resolved.
Buffy looked from him to Willow than back. “I will. I’m just… I wanted to let you know.”
“I will let you know what we found out as soon as possible.” Giles gave her a reassuring smile before he switched his monitor off as well.
“How are you?” Willow rose from her chair, laying a hand on Buffy’s arm.
“I don’t know. I’m… I’m a little scared, actually. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, what this means.” Buffy looked a little helpless and confused.
“You should go and see him. I mean if he remembers… that’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess, yeah.” She pondered that thought for a second, then a little smile spread on her face. “It is. It’s… what I hoped for.”
Willow pulled her friend into a brief but warm hug. “Go see him. I think he needs you.”
“I’ll work through that book. I hope we don’t have to go through that whole sacrifice thing again, so… I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Will.” With that, Buffy headed up to Spike’s room.
***
His body was huddled into the corner of the shower as freezing cold water poured down on him. His black t-shirt hung in shreds on his shaking frame. The wound to his shoulder had started to bleed again as he had raked at it with his fingers. His pants were soaked, clinging to his legs.
Even though Spike wasn’t human, his lips had turned blue by now and his skin looked even more pale than usual. He had his legs drawn to his body, one arm wrapped around his knees. One of his hands was raking through the short stubble on his head, the other all but clawed at the skin of his chest.
The soul had been a joke compared to this. Just a drop in the bucket. A painful drop, no doubt, but this…
Insanity had been bliss.
Memories. Pictures. Sounds. Emotions.
It call came crashing down on him at once, flooding his perception with such intensity that made his head spin. He now knew what had caused the surges of pain he had experience in these past few days.
His aching heart.
As corny the thought was, he knew with perfect clarity that it was true. It was reality.
Ever since the first bliss of not remembering his feelings for Buffy had worn off, he had wished for the memories to return. Knowing that it was still inside him somewhere trying to reach for it day after day, had been a hopeless struggle. It had gnawed at him, torn at him, left a void inside him.
Now, within the blink of an eye, that void had been filled again. When Buffy had touched his arm, all those memories had returned. All of them at once.
He loved her.
He loved her more than anything else. He knew it. He remembered it. He felt with every fiber of his being. It was a feeling so immaculate and pure that there were no words in his language or any other to describe it.
He had never been more aware of the fact. That fact and the prospect that now after all these years, she might actually love him back.
*
Buffy knocked carefully on Spike’s door. After a moment, she entered the room.
“Spike?” She called into the emptiness of the little room. “Are you here?” He had to be. If he had left, she would have known.
She found Spike in the shower, curled into an almost fetal position. He hadn’t closed the sliding doors, and water had splashed over the side of the tub.
Spike didn’t even realise that she was there. When she turned the water off, he only twitched ever so slightly.
Buffy knelt down beside the tub, the knees of her pants soaking in the puddle that had formed in front of the shower. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to touch his arm. Upon the contact, he shied away from her, pressing his body against the tiled wall.
“Don’t,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Please, don’t.”
Buffy’s fingers curled against his arm before she withdrew her hand. “Are you okay?” She knew that he was not. She had seen it the moment he had pulled back from her in the factory.
Jerkily, he shook his head. “It hurts.” Again, she could hardly understand him. “It’s too much.”
She didn’t know what to say. So he really did remember.
Ever since he had told her about his deal with the fearie lord, she had wished for the spell to break. She wanted him to remember, wanted him to look at her as he had back in Sunnydale. And now that he remembered, he acted like he had when he had gotten his soul back.
Scared. Incoherent.
It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.
She had never treated him very well, had never let herself believe that there was something between them. She had waited until the last possible minute to tell him how she felt. And now that she got a second chance, it was still all screwed up.
Why couldn’t she have a normal relationship? Why couldn’t just fall for a regular guy? Why did everything have to be this complicated?
Well, being the Slayer was one part of it.
Dwelling in her thoughts, Buffy hadn’t realised that Spike was now looking at her. His eyes glistened deep blue.
“Go.” Suddenly, his voice had regained some of its usual strength. “Leave me alone.”
Buffy blinked a few times in confusion. “What?”
“You can’t be around me. It’s too much.” Tears were rolling down his cheeks. “Please, go.”
A long beat passed between them. Then, she nodded. When she spoke, her voice sounded very sad. “Okay. If… if you’re… feeling better, you know… where to find me.” For a moment, she remained kneeling beside the shower, then she rose and left the room.
When the door clicked shut behind her, Buffy leaned against it, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Tears were threatening to spill down her cheeks. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from sobbing.
Deep down inside her, a realisation clawed its way to the surface.
It just wasn’t meant to be.
***
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
’it takes love over gold
and mind over matter
to do what you do that you must
when the things that you hold
can fall and be shattered
or run through your fingers like dust’
- “love over gold” by dire straits
Buffy pressed a glass of cool red wine against her forehead. Any aficionado would smack her for drinking red wine fresh from the fridge but she couldn’t be bothered by that thought now. She needed something cold, something to dull her senses a little bit.
These past few days had been a rollercoaster, both physically and emotionally.
They still didn’t have a clear edge on the Fates, and they seemed to be a bigger threat than they had originally expected. If Willow was right about that ultimate sacrifice thing… That was something on a very long list she didn’t want to think about at the moment.
Her mind was preoccupied with one single thought. Spike.
The Fates had made him remember, had lifted the spell from him. She should be happy about it but she couldn’t be.
He didn’t want to see her, he had sent her away. He was in pain. He was in pain because of her. A decade ago, that had been exactly what she wanted. She wanted to hurt him because he loved her, because he cared about her, because he was the only part of her world that actually mattered.
She didn’t want things to be like this, though. Nobody should want things to be like this. He loved her. He suffered more for her than anybody else. It had taken her long enough to realise that. And now he was in pain again. Once more, because of her. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Buffy took a sip from her wine. It was a little too dry for her taste but that didn’t really matter. The rich flavor rolled down her tongue and throat, the alcohol seeped languidly into her bloodstream.
She had never been a fan of using alcohol as a narcotic. It only worked for a few hours, and afterwards she always had a hangover. Today though… well, today was a totally different story.
The Slayer stood by the window, looking out into the night. A siren howled down on the street, urgent and persistent. At least some people were doing something useful.
If she hated one thing, it was sitting around, doing nothing. She felt useless, helpless even. No hell-ladies asses to kick, no vampires to stake, no nothing. In the past ten years, she had solely concentrated on that part of her life. Since the fiasco with the Immortal, she had abandoned the thought of ever having a normal, healthy relationship. She had gotten used to the fact that having a boyfriend, kids even, was not part of the Slayer package. Some of the other Slayers she had met had managed both but for her… yeah well, it just wasn’t meant to be.
*
Spike had no idea how long he’s been sitting in the shower, drenching himself in ice water. He had realised dimly that Buffy had been there, that she had turned the water off. Not that he could actually freeze to death but some part of him was quite sure that she had saved him. At least, she had saved part of his sanity.
He could have gone there again. He could have slipped into that part of his psyche that was a jumbled mess. Everything was easier there. Nothing made any sense. Where nothing made sense, he could just… be. Exist.
Maybe that was what had made him capable of dealing with the burden of his soul. He had withdrawn from the world, from the pain, from the guilt. Angel had been jealous that it taken him only a few weeks to come to terms with his conscience. But then, the two of them couldn’t have been more different to begin with.
Some part of him had wished he could just go back to that place, forget the current threat, forget Buffy. But trying to forget her had brought him into this mess in the first place.
It was always the same with her. Everything was jumbled up, confusing. He had never been any more confused than in those last few weeks in Sunnydale. He knew his place in her world, knew that he would never be the top player in the game. But at the same time, there had been moments between them (some of which Andrew had burned into bits and bytes on that DVD) when he wasn’t quite so sure about it.
Now he stood in front of her door, pondering whether he should knock or not.
The part of him that had agree to the deal with the fearie lord, told him not to, told him that it would start this entire mess all over again. On the other hand, there were the raging feelings inside him that had driven him up here. He loved her, he wanted her. And if he wasn’t entirely mistaken (again), at least a small portion of these feeling were mutual.
He had to know.
*
Buffy twitched so hard that she almost spilled her wine when she heard the careful knock on her door. She drew in a shaky breath before she spoke, “Come in.”
Spike had changed. Instead of his soaked jeans and t-shirt, he now wore black slacks and a black shirt that looked a little too big on his slender frame. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, his head bowed slightly. He looked up at her from under hooded eyes. His voice was quiet, even hesitant. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied in that same tone. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “Better now. I was… confused. It was… it is pretty intense.”
“I guess so.” A weak smile spread on her lips.
Slowly, he looked up at her, his eyes shining very blue.
It reminded Buffy of that last night in Sunnydale. A night they had spent with quiet words, relaxed talks, a few jokes even. They had tried to ignore the fact that it might be their last night, although it had been present in every second.
Buffy put her glass down on the table, her hands shaking a little. She had no idea why she was this nervous.
Slowly, they closed the gap between them. One step at a time. Baby steps, even.
Spike’s shirt was brushing against hers when they stood in front of each other. He had pulled his hands from his pockets, and his fingers curled against her arm, brushing against her skin.
If he had been human, his heart would have been beating violently. He drew in an unneeded shaky breath, then swallowed hard.
“Tell me.” His voice was quiet, soft. His gaze met hers, drawing him half a step closer to her. “Tell me again.”
A beat passed between them where she just looked up at him. When she spoke, her voice sounded warm and gentle. “I love you.”
Spike exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He swayed a little on his feet, and his eyes flickered shut. A slow smile spread on his lips as he was bathing in the sunlight of her words.
When he looked at her again, his eyes were sparkling with an inner light. “And I love you, too.”
One little word. Three tiny letters.
By itself, that word didn’t mean very much. It was a little addendum, nothing more, nothing less. But for Spike it meant more, a whole lot more. It might mean even more than Buffy would ever know.
He had dreamed about this moment for years. He had imagined what it would be like, adding that one little word. When things had gone bad between them, he had remembered those dreams, had cherished them. And now… now those dreams had come true. His wildest fantasy had become reality.
Spike had no idea how long they had been standing in the middle of the room, staring at one another. And he didn’t care. His fingers were tracing lazy pattern along her forearm, hers had found the hem of his shirt, fumbling with the fabric.
“You want a drink?”
Spike blinked, confused for a moment. Then, a grin spread on his face. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Another beat passed between them before Buffy could tear herself away from him. She zipped into the kitchen, returning with another glass of wine.
When she came back, Spike had taken up her spot by the window. His fingers were drumming a steady rhythm on the windowsill.
“Here,” she held a glass out to him, which he accepted with a nod. After she had clinked her glass against his, she said, “I talked to Willow and Giles.”
“’Bout what?” Spike took a long sip from the wine, savouring the taste.
“You.” It came out a little harsher than she had intended. “And the Fates. Willow found something about a sacrifice. An ultimate one.”
“Is there any other kind?” A smirk tugged at his lips.
“Guess not. I told her keep looking. I really don’t want to sacrifice myself again.”
“Me, either. Get’s kinda old after a while.”
Buffy snorted a short little laugh, taking another sip. When she didn’t say anything more, Spike peered down to her. She was staring out the window, her eyes a little glassy, unmoving.
“What did you say about me?” Spike asked after a while.
She glanced up at him, her face serious. “I told them what happened to you.”
“There was a time when you told Giles to sod off when it came to… well, me.” Why was he sounding so… insecure?
“He was your confidant to begin with. And in case you didn’t notice, things have changed around here.”
“Right,” he nodded, somewhat sad.
“How come you never told Giles about the spell?” Buffy turned, leaning against the windowsill.
Spike eyed her for a moment. “I might trust him when it comes to you, but I sure as hell don’t trust him when it comes to me. ‘sides, it’s pretty private, don’t you think?”
She shrugged indifferently. “I guess.”
A moment passed between them before Spike spoke again. “Since when did things get so awkward between us? I remember a time when we could talk like civilized people.”
“Yeah, but that was before we had the very uncivilized sex.”
Spike grinned when he saw her blushing a little. “That, I remember as well. Better, even.” To his satisfaction, her blush deepened.
Silence fell between them. Buffy was taking nervous little sips from her wine.
“Spike?” she asked after a while. “Has there been anyone else?” Her face was very serious, almost gravely, but there was also a touch of insecurity around her eyes.
He hesitated for a moment. Should he tell her? Should he lie? He had always been honest with her, why change now? Besides, they might not have time for lies.
“Harmony,” he said then, regretting it the instant he saw the shocked surprise on her face. “Just once. After I got corporeal again,” he injected quickly. “Needed to let off some… steam. She went all kinds of Emily Rose on me. It’s a long story.” Oh, he was flailing. Badly. Sometimes a white lie was better than the truth.
“Harmony?” was all Buffy said, staring at him in disbelieve. “At least, you could’ve picked someone with an IQ higher than toast.”
“You were snuggling with the Immortal,” he shot back matter-of-factly. “You got me beat.”
“That was a secret mission. I was trying to gain his trust to take him out.” Buffy took a defensive step away from him. “Besides, he sucks in bed,” she added quietly.
“I knew it.” Triumphant glee illuminated his face.
This time, the silence between them was awkward, laden with unsaid words.
Spike’s voice was quiet and resolved when he spoke again. “There is never going to be someone else, Buffy.” His gaze met hers, his eyes warm and gentle. “Never. Even if I had never remembered, you’re always going to be the one.”
Buffy’s face was lit by a slow smile. Her hand darted up to his face, her thumb grazing the contour of his jaw. “There is that look again,” she said more to herself than to him.
A smile tugged at his lips, and he lowered his eyes almost bashfully.
“I missed you,” Buffy added quietly. “I missed talking to you, having you around.” She lowered her hand again. “I should have told you all this a long time ago but I only figured it out when it was too late. I didn’t…”
“Buffy,” interrupted her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Would you please shut up and let me kiss you now?”
Her shoulders sagged with relieved tension. “God, I thought you’d never ask.”
He shot her a lopsided grin, twisting his fingers into her hair. Stepping closer to her, he bridged the gap between them. He could smell the remnants of her perfume, of her shampoo; something he had found annoyingly attractive a long time ago.
Leaning a little into her, he drew in a breath, savouring her scent. Her hair tickled against his skin, and a shiver crawled down his spine.
His lips grazed hers like butterfly wings. He could smell her, taste her already but he wanted to draw this out. It had been ten years but now he didn’t want to spoil the moment by rushing into it too fast.
Her lips tasted like red wine, rich and fruity. She melted into him with a soft sigh.
They had done unspeakable things to each other, most of them anything but gentle.
This kiss, though, was slow, sweet. It was everything Spike had ever wanted it to be. He might be the tough guy vampire, the slayer of Slayers but when it came to kissing her, he was still the romantic poet. A fool for love after all.
He nipped at her lips, peppering them with a series of tiny kisses. When he started teasing her lips with his tongue, she let out a little moan.
Buffy parted her lips for him, letting her meet his in a slow dance. This was no fight for dominance but a languid, lingering dance.
She had never been kissed like this. She had never let anyone kiss her like this. Especially not Spike. This was closer, more personal than anything they had ever done. It was… intimate. Not that all these sexcapades hadn’t been intimated but this wasn’t about the pure physical pleasure and release. This was (for the lack of a better word) about soul.
Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body up against his. Her fingers brushed through the short stubble in the dip at the base of his skull, gently raking at his skin.
Spike let out a little whimper when her thigh came in contact with his groin. His hands cupped her face as he deepened the kiss, slowing down even more at the same time.
When she pulled away from him, her head felt a little light. Though not from the slight lack of oxygen but from the intensity of the kiss. Her hands slid down his chest, lingering over his heart for a second. Slowly, she opened her eyes to meet his.
“Spike?” Her voice sounded hoarse, she had to clear her throat before she spoke again. And yet, her words came out a little shaky. “Will you make love to me?”
Spike looked her with a touch of amused curiosity. “Always have.” He shrugged and shook his head a little as though it had been the most ridiculous request she could have made.
“I know.” She lowered her eyes, a little blush creeping on her cheeks. “But this time we’re going to make it right.” She hesitated for a moment, then looked back up at him. “This time I’m going to love you back.”
He regarded her with steady eyes but she hadn’t missed the little slip in his façade. In a swift motion, he planted a hard kiss on her lips. “You say the sweetest things.”
When he let her go, she beamed at him. “Pretty please. With cherry on top.”
He all but winked at her. “There will be cherries involved?”
“If you ask nicely, I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m not going to ask.” With that, he swept her off her feet, turning towards the bedroom. “I’ll show you.”
***
and mind over matter
to do what you do that you must
when the things that you hold
can fall and be shattered
or run through your fingers like dust’
- “love over gold” by dire straits
Buffy pressed a glass of cool red wine against her forehead. Any aficionado would smack her for drinking red wine fresh from the fridge but she couldn’t be bothered by that thought now. She needed something cold, something to dull her senses a little bit.
These past few days had been a rollercoaster, both physically and emotionally.
They still didn’t have a clear edge on the Fates, and they seemed to be a bigger threat than they had originally expected. If Willow was right about that ultimate sacrifice thing… That was something on a very long list she didn’t want to think about at the moment.
Her mind was preoccupied with one single thought. Spike.
The Fates had made him remember, had lifted the spell from him. She should be happy about it but she couldn’t be.
He didn’t want to see her, he had sent her away. He was in pain. He was in pain because of her. A decade ago, that had been exactly what she wanted. She wanted to hurt him because he loved her, because he cared about her, because he was the only part of her world that actually mattered.
She didn’t want things to be like this, though. Nobody should want things to be like this. He loved her. He suffered more for her than anybody else. It had taken her long enough to realise that. And now he was in pain again. Once more, because of her. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Buffy took a sip from her wine. It was a little too dry for her taste but that didn’t really matter. The rich flavor rolled down her tongue and throat, the alcohol seeped languidly into her bloodstream.
She had never been a fan of using alcohol as a narcotic. It only worked for a few hours, and afterwards she always had a hangover. Today though… well, today was a totally different story.
The Slayer stood by the window, looking out into the night. A siren howled down on the street, urgent and persistent. At least some people were doing something useful.
If she hated one thing, it was sitting around, doing nothing. She felt useless, helpless even. No hell-ladies asses to kick, no vampires to stake, no nothing. In the past ten years, she had solely concentrated on that part of her life. Since the fiasco with the Immortal, she had abandoned the thought of ever having a normal, healthy relationship. She had gotten used to the fact that having a boyfriend, kids even, was not part of the Slayer package. Some of the other Slayers she had met had managed both but for her… yeah well, it just wasn’t meant to be.
*
Spike had no idea how long he’s been sitting in the shower, drenching himself in ice water. He had realised dimly that Buffy had been there, that she had turned the water off. Not that he could actually freeze to death but some part of him was quite sure that she had saved him. At least, she had saved part of his sanity.
He could have gone there again. He could have slipped into that part of his psyche that was a jumbled mess. Everything was easier there. Nothing made any sense. Where nothing made sense, he could just… be. Exist.
Maybe that was what had made him capable of dealing with the burden of his soul. He had withdrawn from the world, from the pain, from the guilt. Angel had been jealous that it taken him only a few weeks to come to terms with his conscience. But then, the two of them couldn’t have been more different to begin with.
Some part of him had wished he could just go back to that place, forget the current threat, forget Buffy. But trying to forget her had brought him into this mess in the first place.
It was always the same with her. Everything was jumbled up, confusing. He had never been any more confused than in those last few weeks in Sunnydale. He knew his place in her world, knew that he would never be the top player in the game. But at the same time, there had been moments between them (some of which Andrew had burned into bits and bytes on that DVD) when he wasn’t quite so sure about it.
Now he stood in front of her door, pondering whether he should knock or not.
The part of him that had agree to the deal with the fearie lord, told him not to, told him that it would start this entire mess all over again. On the other hand, there were the raging feelings inside him that had driven him up here. He loved her, he wanted her. And if he wasn’t entirely mistaken (again), at least a small portion of these feeling were mutual.
He had to know.
*
Buffy twitched so hard that she almost spilled her wine when she heard the careful knock on her door. She drew in a shaky breath before she spoke, “Come in.”
Spike had changed. Instead of his soaked jeans and t-shirt, he now wore black slacks and a black shirt that looked a little too big on his slender frame. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his pants, his head bowed slightly. He looked up at her from under hooded eyes. His voice was quiet, even hesitant. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied in that same tone. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “Better now. I was… confused. It was… it is pretty intense.”
“I guess so.” A weak smile spread on her lips.
Slowly, he looked up at her, his eyes shining very blue.
It reminded Buffy of that last night in Sunnydale. A night they had spent with quiet words, relaxed talks, a few jokes even. They had tried to ignore the fact that it might be their last night, although it had been present in every second.
Buffy put her glass down on the table, her hands shaking a little. She had no idea why she was this nervous.
Slowly, they closed the gap between them. One step at a time. Baby steps, even.
Spike’s shirt was brushing against hers when they stood in front of each other. He had pulled his hands from his pockets, and his fingers curled against her arm, brushing against her skin.
If he had been human, his heart would have been beating violently. He drew in an unneeded shaky breath, then swallowed hard.
“Tell me.” His voice was quiet, soft. His gaze met hers, drawing him half a step closer to her. “Tell me again.”
A beat passed between them where she just looked up at him. When she spoke, her voice sounded warm and gentle. “I love you.”
Spike exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He swayed a little on his feet, and his eyes flickered shut. A slow smile spread on his lips as he was bathing in the sunlight of her words.
When he looked at her again, his eyes were sparkling with an inner light. “And I love you, too.”
One little word. Three tiny letters.
By itself, that word didn’t mean very much. It was a little addendum, nothing more, nothing less. But for Spike it meant more, a whole lot more. It might mean even more than Buffy would ever know.
He had dreamed about this moment for years. He had imagined what it would be like, adding that one little word. When things had gone bad between them, he had remembered those dreams, had cherished them. And now… now those dreams had come true. His wildest fantasy had become reality.
Spike had no idea how long they had been standing in the middle of the room, staring at one another. And he didn’t care. His fingers were tracing lazy pattern along her forearm, hers had found the hem of his shirt, fumbling with the fabric.
“You want a drink?”
Spike blinked, confused for a moment. Then, a grin spread on his face. “Yeah.”
“Good.” Another beat passed between them before Buffy could tear herself away from him. She zipped into the kitchen, returning with another glass of wine.
When she came back, Spike had taken up her spot by the window. His fingers were drumming a steady rhythm on the windowsill.
“Here,” she held a glass out to him, which he accepted with a nod. After she had clinked her glass against his, she said, “I talked to Willow and Giles.”
“’Bout what?” Spike took a long sip from the wine, savouring the taste.
“You.” It came out a little harsher than she had intended. “And the Fates. Willow found something about a sacrifice. An ultimate one.”
“Is there any other kind?” A smirk tugged at his lips.
“Guess not. I told her keep looking. I really don’t want to sacrifice myself again.”
“Me, either. Get’s kinda old after a while.”
Buffy snorted a short little laugh, taking another sip. When she didn’t say anything more, Spike peered down to her. She was staring out the window, her eyes a little glassy, unmoving.
“What did you say about me?” Spike asked after a while.
She glanced up at him, her face serious. “I told them what happened to you.”
“There was a time when you told Giles to sod off when it came to… well, me.” Why was he sounding so… insecure?
“He was your confidant to begin with. And in case you didn’t notice, things have changed around here.”
“Right,” he nodded, somewhat sad.
“How come you never told Giles about the spell?” Buffy turned, leaning against the windowsill.
Spike eyed her for a moment. “I might trust him when it comes to you, but I sure as hell don’t trust him when it comes to me. ‘sides, it’s pretty private, don’t you think?”
She shrugged indifferently. “I guess.”
A moment passed between them before Spike spoke again. “Since when did things get so awkward between us? I remember a time when we could talk like civilized people.”
“Yeah, but that was before we had the very uncivilized sex.”
Spike grinned when he saw her blushing a little. “That, I remember as well. Better, even.” To his satisfaction, her blush deepened.
Silence fell between them. Buffy was taking nervous little sips from her wine.
“Spike?” she asked after a while. “Has there been anyone else?” Her face was very serious, almost gravely, but there was also a touch of insecurity around her eyes.
He hesitated for a moment. Should he tell her? Should he lie? He had always been honest with her, why change now? Besides, they might not have time for lies.
“Harmony,” he said then, regretting it the instant he saw the shocked surprise on her face. “Just once. After I got corporeal again,” he injected quickly. “Needed to let off some… steam. She went all kinds of Emily Rose on me. It’s a long story.” Oh, he was flailing. Badly. Sometimes a white lie was better than the truth.
“Harmony?” was all Buffy said, staring at him in disbelieve. “At least, you could’ve picked someone with an IQ higher than toast.”
“You were snuggling with the Immortal,” he shot back matter-of-factly. “You got me beat.”
“That was a secret mission. I was trying to gain his trust to take him out.” Buffy took a defensive step away from him. “Besides, he sucks in bed,” she added quietly.
“I knew it.” Triumphant glee illuminated his face.
This time, the silence between them was awkward, laden with unsaid words.
Spike’s voice was quiet and resolved when he spoke again. “There is never going to be someone else, Buffy.” His gaze met hers, his eyes warm and gentle. “Never. Even if I had never remembered, you’re always going to be the one.”
Buffy’s face was lit by a slow smile. Her hand darted up to his face, her thumb grazing the contour of his jaw. “There is that look again,” she said more to herself than to him.
A smile tugged at his lips, and he lowered his eyes almost bashfully.
“I missed you,” Buffy added quietly. “I missed talking to you, having you around.” She lowered her hand again. “I should have told you all this a long time ago but I only figured it out when it was too late. I didn’t…”
“Buffy,” interrupted her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Would you please shut up and let me kiss you now?”
Her shoulders sagged with relieved tension. “God, I thought you’d never ask.”
He shot her a lopsided grin, twisting his fingers into her hair. Stepping closer to her, he bridged the gap between them. He could smell the remnants of her perfume, of her shampoo; something he had found annoyingly attractive a long time ago.
Leaning a little into her, he drew in a breath, savouring her scent. Her hair tickled against his skin, and a shiver crawled down his spine.
His lips grazed hers like butterfly wings. He could smell her, taste her already but he wanted to draw this out. It had been ten years but now he didn’t want to spoil the moment by rushing into it too fast.
Her lips tasted like red wine, rich and fruity. She melted into him with a soft sigh.
They had done unspeakable things to each other, most of them anything but gentle.
This kiss, though, was slow, sweet. It was everything Spike had ever wanted it to be. He might be the tough guy vampire, the slayer of Slayers but when it came to kissing her, he was still the romantic poet. A fool for love after all.
He nipped at her lips, peppering them with a series of tiny kisses. When he started teasing her lips with his tongue, she let out a little moan.
Buffy parted her lips for him, letting her meet his in a slow dance. This was no fight for dominance but a languid, lingering dance.
She had never been kissed like this. She had never let anyone kiss her like this. Especially not Spike. This was closer, more personal than anything they had ever done. It was… intimate. Not that all these sexcapades hadn’t been intimated but this wasn’t about the pure physical pleasure and release. This was (for the lack of a better word) about soul.
Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body up against his. Her fingers brushed through the short stubble in the dip at the base of his skull, gently raking at his skin.
Spike let out a little whimper when her thigh came in contact with his groin. His hands cupped her face as he deepened the kiss, slowing down even more at the same time.
When she pulled away from him, her head felt a little light. Though not from the slight lack of oxygen but from the intensity of the kiss. Her hands slid down his chest, lingering over his heart for a second. Slowly, she opened her eyes to meet his.
“Spike?” Her voice sounded hoarse, she had to clear her throat before she spoke again. And yet, her words came out a little shaky. “Will you make love to me?”
Spike looked her with a touch of amused curiosity. “Always have.” He shrugged and shook his head a little as though it had been the most ridiculous request she could have made.
“I know.” She lowered her eyes, a little blush creeping on her cheeks. “But this time we’re going to make it right.” She hesitated for a moment, then looked back up at him. “This time I’m going to love you back.”
He regarded her with steady eyes but she hadn’t missed the little slip in his façade. In a swift motion, he planted a hard kiss on her lips. “You say the sweetest things.”
When he let her go, she beamed at him. “Pretty please. With cherry on top.”
He all but winked at her. “There will be cherries involved?”
“If you ask nicely, I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’m not going to ask.” With that, he swept her off her feet, turning towards the bedroom. “I’ll show you.”
***
Chapter 15
Chapter 15
’i can't do the talk like they talking on the tv
and i can't do a love song like the way its meant to be
i can't do everything but i'd do anything for you
i can't do anything except be in love with you’
- “romeo and juliet” by dire straits
Spike let her sink to her feet by the foot of her bed. The room was cold as usual, the bed still the way she had left it this morning. With huge eyes, she looked up at him, fumbling nervously with the hem of his shirt.
“Second thoughts?” he asked, taking her hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.
“I thought you weren’t asking any questions,” Buffy tried to make her quip sound perky but failed miserably. She knew that he would see right through her, so her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I imagined what it would be like if you ever came back. I thought about what we would say, what we would do.” She hesitated for a second, lowering her eyes. “It was never like this. So I guess I’m just a little scared, is all.” She looked back up again but shied away instantly when she saw the compassionate look on his face. Covering her tear-brimmed eyes with one hand, she turned away from him. “God, this is so stupid. I asked for this and now I’m bailing out on you. I’m sorry.” Her shoulders twitched with a quiet sob.
Spike stepped up behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” If he was disappointed, it didn’t show in his voice.
“No, I… I want this… you. It’s just… I thought it would be easier. It was easier back then.”
“Well, we both have changed quite a bit.” He ran his hands down her arms, then wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “We’re going to take this nice and slow.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, taking in her scent. “We have all the time in the world.”
“No, we don’t.” Buffy’s voice didn’t sound as sad as her words were meant to be. She leaned back into him, letting him kiss that spot behind her ear that made her mewl like a kitten.
“I don’t care.” He kissed the spot again. “I’m trying to seduce you here, so we’ll take that time.”
He brushed her hair away, trailing a series of kisses down the side of her neck. With the other hand, he slightly tugged at her shirt. When his fingers brushed the bare skin of her belly, she sucked in a breath, standing on tiptoes, pressing against him.
A low chuckle rumbled against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “I haven’t even started yet.”
“I know,” Buffy all but whimpered. “It’s just been so long since someone touched me like this.”
Gently, he pushed her around to face him. Slowly, she opened her eyes. “There has been no one else?” He sounded almost surprised.
“Not since the Immortal,” she confirmed quietly.
“We’re pathetic, aren’t we?”
“Pretty much.” Her hands started to roam over his chest. “There was something about seducing me? Can we go on with that? ‘Cause that felt really good.”
As an answer, Spike gave her a soft kiss on the lips, brushing her fingers through her hair. His hands trailed down her spine, coming to rest in the small of her back. He pulled her against him; his fingers slipped underneath her shirt, carressing her skin. As the kiss deepened, his hands explored her back, eliciting a whimper here and there.
Buffy’s fingers found the bottom button of his shirt, fumbling a little with it before she got it open. Her nails gently grazed the skin of his belly, softly tickling his sides.
A panted moan escaped him, urging Buffy on to unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.
He winced when her fingers brushed against the tender flesh of his wound. It had healed already but the scar was still pink and raw.
She broke the kiss, and looked up at him. He had his eyes closed, and his nostrils flared a little. Her hands moved up his arms, his biceps twitching under the touch. She leaned into him, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck and collarbone. He drew in an unsteady breath when her lips encountered the wound.
A mixture of pain and pleasure made his senses tingle, and he had to steady himself against her. “You’re killing me,” he murmured into her hair.
Spike pushed her away from him, reached for the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. Then, he knelt down on one knee, pulling down the zippers of her boots. It was still a mystery to him how she could walk let alone fight in high heels. Her socks went next before he ran his hands up her legs to the fly of her jeans.
When he glanced up at her, she was watching his every move with an almost fascinated curiosity. Gently, he peeled her out of her pants. As he rose, his fingers trailed a path up her calves, her thighs, over her hips, to her waist.
A tremor went through her body, and she let out a moan, bracing herself against his chest. It was only a light touch but was almost enough to send her over the edge already.
Spike looked down her body, drinking in the sight of her. Now that she was only clad in a set of lacy black underwear. It almost seemed that this was one of the last shreds of femininity she had always kept for herself. No matter how many layers of slime and grime she was covered in, what she wore underneath was always sexy and delicate.
Years ago, she had never let him look at her like this, had never let herself be open for him. Things had definitely changed between them.
Buffy reached behind her back to unhook the clasp of her bra but let him brush the straps off her shoulders. His fingers trailed down her arms, caressing her skin, her muscles twitching under his touch.
Her eyes flickered shut when his fingertips traced the underside of her breasts. She drew in a deep breath, her head rolling forward as her nipples hardened.
Again, he leaned into her, drawing her into a long, sensual kiss. Letting his hands travel down her sides, his fingers hooked into the lacy nothing of her panties.
Her hands closed over his before he could free her off the last piece of clothing, looking up at him. He let his hands sink, taking half a step back. With an almost amused look on his face, he watched her as she wriggled out of her panties.
When she saw his look, a crimson blush crept on her face and she covered her breasts with her arms, lowered her head. A wave of insecurity washed over her.
It had been ten years. Ten years that had turned her from a college student into the head of an army, ten years that hadn’t passed her by without leaving marks of her body. Suddenly, she seemed to be all too aware of them.
Spike brushed a strand of hair from her face, tilting her head up. With the other hand, he gently pushed her arms away. “Don’t hide from me.” he murmured soothingly into her ear as softly nipped at her lips. “You’re my beautiful, beautiful girl.”
Buffy let out a little snort. “Girl? I’m not in my twenties. I’m a thirty something now.”
He sighed almost unnerved. “I’m a one hundred and forty something. Talk about complexes.”
Her hands darted up to touch his abs. “How old were you?” she asked, letting her fingers graze his skin. “When you were turned?”
For a second, he looked away from her, licking his lips. The shadow of the memory clouded his features before he focused on her again. “Twenty-nine,” he replied almost sadly. “It was a few weeks before my thirtieth birthday.”
This time, it was Buffy’s turn to smirk. “You always get to stay twenty-nine? Lucky you. That’s what every woman dreams about.”
“Can we skip the nostalgia and get on with the sexy part?” He nudged her a little impatiently. “I’m trying to think gruesome thoughts but with you being naked, it’s just not working.”
“Let’s get even, then.” Her fingers trailed down his belly to the buckle of his jeans. Intently, he watched her hands as she undid his belt. She struggled a little with the top button before she got it open.
His mouth dropped open in a silent moan when her tiny hand slipped beneath the fly of his jeans. His brow furrowed and he desperately tried to keep his eyes open but they flickered shut when a wave of unbound pleasure washed over him.
“Oh my god.” His words were hushed, breathless. “You really shouldn’t be doing this.”
As an answer, she pressed a hard kiss on his lips, nudging towards the bed. Withdrawing her hands from his jeans, she gently pushed him down on the bed. His eyes never left hers when she knelt down in front of him and started to unlace his boots.
Even if his injured foot hurt when she pulled off his boot, he didn’t let it show. Or he didn’t feel it. There were things more important than that right now.
After a little logistic struggle, she pulled him to his feet again, undoing the rest of his fly, pulling his jeans down his legs.
If somebody had told Buffy ten years ago, that she would be standing here, simply enjoying the feeling of his naked body against hers, she probably would have punched that somebody in the nose. All he did was run his hands up her arms, drawing her nearer, and her breath was already becoming shorter, shallower.
He snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her against him, letting her feel his desire for her. Their kiss was slow, deep, and passionate. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes, pressing up against him.
With a swift motion, Spike lifted her off her feet. He leaned with one knee on the bed, and let her slide onto the soft mattress. She let go off his neck, her arms falling over her head.
For a brief second, their eyes met when he broke the kiss. Then, he started licking and kissing a slow trail down her neck. His tongue found her pulse and remained there for a moment, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the soft spot.
He let the kisses trail down between her breasts, his fingers following the curves of her body, down her arms, tickling her armpits a little, until they found the soft swell of her breasts.
Buffy let out a whimper when his fingers grazed her nipples. She bowed her back, pressing into his touch. She felt him grin in satisfaction against her belly.
Gently, he nudged her legs apart with his hips, moving even deeper down her body. Her breath hitched in her throat when he found the warmth of her center. He peppered her sensitive flesh with open mouthed kisses, gentle licks and soft touches.
She had always loved it when he had gone down on her. It had been the one moment when she had let herself go. A little at least. Whenever they had had sex, she had been the one in control. She had set the rules, the boundaries. But in these tiny moments, she had given him the control, let herself be just another regular woman.
And now after almost ten years of abstinence, she was in that spot again. It didn’t take him long to take her over the edge. Her hands clawed at the already rumpled bed sheets, her toes curled and her back arched even more. She let out a strangled little cry that almost sounded like his name. She heard the blood rushing in her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the sensations that rushed through her.
When she came down from her high, Spike was trailing tiny kisses down over her thigh and back up over her groin, her pelvic bone. She reached out a hand to touch his face, drawing his attention to her.
“Come here,” she whispered softly, her index finger underneath his chin.
With the graceful elegance of a cat, he crawled up her body, his muscles shifting beneath his skin. His eyes had darkened considerably, deep black replacing the usual blue.
When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his tongue. The thought of that made her hand travel on its own accord until her fingers closed around him. He almost bit down on her bottom lip at the sensation of her little hand stroking him. Leaning his weight on his good arm, his other hand closed around hers.
“You really shouldn’t be doing this.” His voice was hoarse, heavy with need and desire.
Buffy grinned a saucy little grin. “You didn’t use to complain when I did this.”
Once more, their eyes met. “I’m not complaining.” He swallowed hard, finally stilling her motions. “Still. I might have superpowers but there is only so much a vampire can withstand.”
She chuckled almost triumphantly. Again, she pulled him down into a kiss. When she broke for air, her face was serious, the lightness of the previous moment evaporated. “Can we take this slow?” She knew that he would understand what she meant. He always had a talent for listening to her, more specifically to the things that she didn’t say.
Spike looked at her for a long moment. Then, he snaked one arm around her waist, rolled onto his back and pulled her into his lap. She came to rest on his thighs when he sat up to face her. With one hand, he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Take all the time you need.” He accentuated his words with little kisses when his voice started to shake. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not ever again.”
They both knew about the heavy burden that came with his words. It was something that Buffy had pushed into the far corner of her memory a long time ago. But they also knew that they had to bring it up at some point. It was part of their history. The darkest point but probably also the most important one.
He had to say those words, for her and for himself. Even though he had already brought her off just now, his mouth at her most intimate region, this was different.
They had never talked about it afterwards, not directly afterwards (the fact that he had left town right afterwards notwithstanding) and not when he had returned to Sunnydale either. Although it had loomed overhead in every passing minute, they had avoided the topic with their usual stupidity.
Buffy had thought that what had happened between them in those last few days in Sunnydale had been enough to finally convince him, that she had forgiven (if not forgotten) it. She should have known that he needed reassurance. Even though he’d never admit it, when it came to this he was as insecure as a little boy. And that had nothing to do with the soul.
She took his hand in his, slowly guiding it between their bodies. Words weren’t actually necessary but she knew that he needed to hear them. “I want you to touch me,” she breathed against his mouth, gently nipping at his bottom lip.
She sucked in a breath when his fingers gently parted her, teasing her. He guided himself to her entrance, and ever so slowly she let her herself sink down on him. Her eyes threatened to flicker shut at the sensation, but he brought her attention back to him when one of his fingers grazed her most sensitive spot.
“Don’t close your eyes.” He tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Look at me.”
Buffy’s eyes felt entirely too heavy but she forced them open again. Her mouth opened in a wordless moan as he eased her through the slight sting of pain.
A hushed “oh my god” escaped her mouth when she had taken him all the way in. Her body quivered a little, and she fought hard not to give into the sensation again so soon.
“Are you okay?” he asked, slightly concerned. She could only nod for an answer. “Are you with me?”
The last rational remnant of her mind knew what he was referring to, that one night in Sunnydale. He had asked her the same thing when they had been in her kitchen after the night in the abandoned house. All of his insecurity about their relationship had been evident on his face, the fear of having regained her trust and loosing it again, the fear of loosing that last bit of hope.
Their eyes met for a long moment, and Buffy’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, she breathed, running a hand over his face, reassuring him that she wasn’t a dream. “Yes. I’m here. I’m with you.”
An eternity ticked by in which they just sat in silence. Ever so slowly, she started to move in his lap, lifting her weight, then sinking down again. She leaned her forehead against his, her eyes never leaving his.
She wanted to draw this out, make it last as long as possible but the feel of him inside her, and the touch of his fingers was more than she could bear.
Her head rolled back, the long tresses of her hair falling down her back. His name blended into a strangled little cry that escaped her throat when she came for the second time.
Spike’s lips found her throat, gently nipping at the soft flesh. Her pulse was throbbing against his tongue, her body shuddering in his embrace. He looked at her again, drinking in the sight of her.
She was beautiful.
Her skin seemed to glow with a fine sheen of sweat as she leaned back into his arms. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp, and she drew in a shaky breath.
He had slept with her countless times, he had made her come in numerous ways but she had never looked this beautiful to him. She was there, she was with him. She came for him, with his name on her lips.
“I love you,” Spike said almost matter-of-factly. He wanted to say something more but words failed him.
The world around them seemed to disappear. She became his world, his life, his soul, his sun. She was everything.
The sensation of her body around him, the raw power of his emotions took him over the edge. And her along with him again.
She was clinging to him as though her life depended on it. At a leisurely pace, she moved against him, riding on the waves of her pleasure. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she pressed up against him, her heart thumping wildly inside her chest.
“Love you,” Buffy murmured against his neck, gently kissing him. “I love you, too.”
Neither of them knew how long they sat like this, him buried inside her, holding her in a tight embrace. Whenever she took a breath that was a little too deep, a shudder went through her body, making her cling to him even more.
After what seemed like hours, Spike wanted to pull back from her to lie back down but she held on to him.
“Don’t,” she whispered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Can we… I want to feel you… inside.” And still, even after all these years, she felt uncomfortable making such a request.
Spike smiled at her, warm and gentle. “Just getting a little more comfortable.” When a tiny frown marred her brow, he added in a playful tone, “That’s what you’ getting for dating old men.”
She matched his tone. “And I don’t even get to inherit anything.”
He pulled her flush against him, making her yelp in delight. He linked one of his legs around the back of her calf, before he turned to one side, laying her down beside him.
“That better?” A smirk tugged at his lips, and she nodded for an answer. He brushed the hair from her forehead, pressing a soft kiss to her skin.
Buffy looked at him for a long while, studying his features as he studied hers.
They had been in a similar position a decade ago, only less intimate. Or well, differently intimate. If she wasn’t aware that it had been a long process, she would have said that she had fallen for him that very moment. But no, she had known on various occasions. When he had asked her for help in the old woman’s basement; when she had freed him from the cave; in the night after her date with Robin Wood; and many, many more times. Those little looks, little gestures (some of which Andrew had burned on that DVD) that had proven his feelings more than the words she had refused to believe for such a long time.
Suddenly, out of the blue, she said, “I’m cookies.”
***
and i can't do a love song like the way its meant to be
i can't do everything but i'd do anything for you
i can't do anything except be in love with you’
- “romeo and juliet” by dire straits
Spike let her sink to her feet by the foot of her bed. The room was cold as usual, the bed still the way she had left it this morning. With huge eyes, she looked up at him, fumbling nervously with the hem of his shirt.
“Second thoughts?” he asked, taking her hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze.
“I thought you weren’t asking any questions,” Buffy tried to make her quip sound perky but failed miserably. She knew that he would see right through her, so her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I imagined what it would be like if you ever came back. I thought about what we would say, what we would do.” She hesitated for a second, lowering her eyes. “It was never like this. So I guess I’m just a little scared, is all.” She looked back up again but shied away instantly when she saw the compassionate look on his face. Covering her tear-brimmed eyes with one hand, she turned away from him. “God, this is so stupid. I asked for this and now I’m bailing out on you. I’m sorry.” Her shoulders twitched with a quiet sob.
Spike stepped up behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” If he was disappointed, it didn’t show in his voice.
“No, I… I want this… you. It’s just… I thought it would be easier. It was easier back then.”
“Well, we both have changed quite a bit.” He ran his hands down her arms, then wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “We’re going to take this nice and slow.” He nuzzled his nose into her hair, taking in her scent. “We have all the time in the world.”
“No, we don’t.” Buffy’s voice didn’t sound as sad as her words were meant to be. She leaned back into him, letting him kiss that spot behind her ear that made her mewl like a kitten.
“I don’t care.” He kissed the spot again. “I’m trying to seduce you here, so we’ll take that time.”
He brushed her hair away, trailing a series of kisses down the side of her neck. With the other hand, he slightly tugged at her shirt. When his fingers brushed the bare skin of her belly, she sucked in a breath, standing on tiptoes, pressing against him.
A low chuckle rumbled against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “I haven’t even started yet.”
“I know,” Buffy all but whimpered. “It’s just been so long since someone touched me like this.”
Gently, he pushed her around to face him. Slowly, she opened her eyes. “There has been no one else?” He sounded almost surprised.
“Not since the Immortal,” she confirmed quietly.
“We’re pathetic, aren’t we?”
“Pretty much.” Her hands started to roam over his chest. “There was something about seducing me? Can we go on with that? ‘Cause that felt really good.”
As an answer, Spike gave her a soft kiss on the lips, brushing her fingers through her hair. His hands trailed down her spine, coming to rest in the small of her back. He pulled her against him; his fingers slipped underneath her shirt, carressing her skin. As the kiss deepened, his hands explored her back, eliciting a whimper here and there.
Buffy’s fingers found the bottom button of his shirt, fumbling a little with it before she got it open. Her nails gently grazed the skin of his belly, softly tickling his sides.
A panted moan escaped him, urging Buffy on to unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.
He winced when her fingers brushed against the tender flesh of his wound. It had healed already but the scar was still pink and raw.
She broke the kiss, and looked up at him. He had his eyes closed, and his nostrils flared a little. Her hands moved up his arms, his biceps twitching under the touch. She leaned into him, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck and collarbone. He drew in an unsteady breath when her lips encountered the wound.
A mixture of pain and pleasure made his senses tingle, and he had to steady himself against her. “You’re killing me,” he murmured into her hair.
Spike pushed her away from him, reached for the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. Then, he knelt down on one knee, pulling down the zippers of her boots. It was still a mystery to him how she could walk let alone fight in high heels. Her socks went next before he ran his hands up her legs to the fly of her jeans.
When he glanced up at her, she was watching his every move with an almost fascinated curiosity. Gently, he peeled her out of her pants. As he rose, his fingers trailed a path up her calves, her thighs, over her hips, to her waist.
A tremor went through her body, and she let out a moan, bracing herself against his chest. It was only a light touch but was almost enough to send her over the edge already.
Spike looked down her body, drinking in the sight of her. Now that she was only clad in a set of lacy black underwear. It almost seemed that this was one of the last shreds of femininity she had always kept for herself. No matter how many layers of slime and grime she was covered in, what she wore underneath was always sexy and delicate.
Years ago, she had never let him look at her like this, had never let herself be open for him. Things had definitely changed between them.
Buffy reached behind her back to unhook the clasp of her bra but let him brush the straps off her shoulders. His fingers trailed down her arms, caressing her skin, her muscles twitching under his touch.
Her eyes flickered shut when his fingertips traced the underside of her breasts. She drew in a deep breath, her head rolling forward as her nipples hardened.
Again, he leaned into her, drawing her into a long, sensual kiss. Letting his hands travel down her sides, his fingers hooked into the lacy nothing of her panties.
Her hands closed over his before he could free her off the last piece of clothing, looking up at him. He let his hands sink, taking half a step back. With an almost amused look on his face, he watched her as she wriggled out of her panties.
When she saw his look, a crimson blush crept on her face and she covered her breasts with her arms, lowered her head. A wave of insecurity washed over her.
It had been ten years. Ten years that had turned her from a college student into the head of an army, ten years that hadn’t passed her by without leaving marks of her body. Suddenly, she seemed to be all too aware of them.
Spike brushed a strand of hair from her face, tilting her head up. With the other hand, he gently pushed her arms away. “Don’t hide from me.” he murmured soothingly into her ear as softly nipped at her lips. “You’re my beautiful, beautiful girl.”
Buffy let out a little snort. “Girl? I’m not in my twenties. I’m a thirty something now.”
He sighed almost unnerved. “I’m a one hundred and forty something. Talk about complexes.”
Her hands darted up to touch his abs. “How old were you?” she asked, letting her fingers graze his skin. “When you were turned?”
For a second, he looked away from her, licking his lips. The shadow of the memory clouded his features before he focused on her again. “Twenty-nine,” he replied almost sadly. “It was a few weeks before my thirtieth birthday.”
This time, it was Buffy’s turn to smirk. “You always get to stay twenty-nine? Lucky you. That’s what every woman dreams about.”
“Can we skip the nostalgia and get on with the sexy part?” He nudged her a little impatiently. “I’m trying to think gruesome thoughts but with you being naked, it’s just not working.”
“Let’s get even, then.” Her fingers trailed down his belly to the buckle of his jeans. Intently, he watched her hands as she undid his belt. She struggled a little with the top button before she got it open.
His mouth dropped open in a silent moan when her tiny hand slipped beneath the fly of his jeans. His brow furrowed and he desperately tried to keep his eyes open but they flickered shut when a wave of unbound pleasure washed over him.
“Oh my god.” His words were hushed, breathless. “You really shouldn’t be doing this.”
As an answer, she pressed a hard kiss on his lips, nudging towards the bed. Withdrawing her hands from his jeans, she gently pushed him down on the bed. His eyes never left hers when she knelt down in front of him and started to unlace his boots.
Even if his injured foot hurt when she pulled off his boot, he didn’t let it show. Or he didn’t feel it. There were things more important than that right now.
After a little logistic struggle, she pulled him to his feet again, undoing the rest of his fly, pulling his jeans down his legs.
If somebody had told Buffy ten years ago, that she would be standing here, simply enjoying the feeling of his naked body against hers, she probably would have punched that somebody in the nose. All he did was run his hands up her arms, drawing her nearer, and her breath was already becoming shorter, shallower.
He snaked one arm around her waist, pulling her against him, letting her feel his desire for her. Their kiss was slow, deep, and passionate. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoes, pressing up against him.
With a swift motion, Spike lifted her off her feet. He leaned with one knee on the bed, and let her slide onto the soft mattress. She let go off his neck, her arms falling over her head.
For a brief second, their eyes met when he broke the kiss. Then, he started licking and kissing a slow trail down her neck. His tongue found her pulse and remained there for a moment, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the soft spot.
He let the kisses trail down between her breasts, his fingers following the curves of her body, down her arms, tickling her armpits a little, until they found the soft swell of her breasts.
Buffy let out a whimper when his fingers grazed her nipples. She bowed her back, pressing into his touch. She felt him grin in satisfaction against her belly.
Gently, he nudged her legs apart with his hips, moving even deeper down her body. Her breath hitched in her throat when he found the warmth of her center. He peppered her sensitive flesh with open mouthed kisses, gentle licks and soft touches.
She had always loved it when he had gone down on her. It had been the one moment when she had let herself go. A little at least. Whenever they had had sex, she had been the one in control. She had set the rules, the boundaries. But in these tiny moments, she had given him the control, let herself be just another regular woman.
And now after almost ten years of abstinence, she was in that spot again. It didn’t take him long to take her over the edge. Her hands clawed at the already rumpled bed sheets, her toes curled and her back arched even more. She let out a strangled little cry that almost sounded like his name. She heard the blood rushing in her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the sensations that rushed through her.
When she came down from her high, Spike was trailing tiny kisses down over her thigh and back up over her groin, her pelvic bone. She reached out a hand to touch his face, drawing his attention to her.
“Come here,” she whispered softly, her index finger underneath his chin.
With the graceful elegance of a cat, he crawled up her body, his muscles shifting beneath his skin. His eyes had darkened considerably, deep black replacing the usual blue.
When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his tongue. The thought of that made her hand travel on its own accord until her fingers closed around him. He almost bit down on her bottom lip at the sensation of her little hand stroking him. Leaning his weight on his good arm, his other hand closed around hers.
“You really shouldn’t be doing this.” His voice was hoarse, heavy with need and desire.
Buffy grinned a saucy little grin. “You didn’t use to complain when I did this.”
Once more, their eyes met. “I’m not complaining.” He swallowed hard, finally stilling her motions. “Still. I might have superpowers but there is only so much a vampire can withstand.”
She chuckled almost triumphantly. Again, she pulled him down into a kiss. When she broke for air, her face was serious, the lightness of the previous moment evaporated. “Can we take this slow?” She knew that he would understand what she meant. He always had a talent for listening to her, more specifically to the things that she didn’t say.
Spike looked at her for a long moment. Then, he snaked one arm around her waist, rolled onto his back and pulled her into his lap. She came to rest on his thighs when he sat up to face her. With one hand, he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Take all the time you need.” He accentuated his words with little kisses when his voice started to shake. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not ever again.”
They both knew about the heavy burden that came with his words. It was something that Buffy had pushed into the far corner of her memory a long time ago. But they also knew that they had to bring it up at some point. It was part of their history. The darkest point but probably also the most important one.
He had to say those words, for her and for himself. Even though he had already brought her off just now, his mouth at her most intimate region, this was different.
They had never talked about it afterwards, not directly afterwards (the fact that he had left town right afterwards notwithstanding) and not when he had returned to Sunnydale either. Although it had loomed overhead in every passing minute, they had avoided the topic with their usual stupidity.
Buffy had thought that what had happened between them in those last few days in Sunnydale had been enough to finally convince him, that she had forgiven (if not forgotten) it. She should have known that he needed reassurance. Even though he’d never admit it, when it came to this he was as insecure as a little boy. And that had nothing to do with the soul.
She took his hand in his, slowly guiding it between their bodies. Words weren’t actually necessary but she knew that he needed to hear them. “I want you to touch me,” she breathed against his mouth, gently nipping at his bottom lip.
She sucked in a breath when his fingers gently parted her, teasing her. He guided himself to her entrance, and ever so slowly she let her herself sink down on him. Her eyes threatened to flicker shut at the sensation, but he brought her attention back to him when one of his fingers grazed her most sensitive spot.
“Don’t close your eyes.” He tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Look at me.”
Buffy’s eyes felt entirely too heavy but she forced them open again. Her mouth opened in a wordless moan as he eased her through the slight sting of pain.
A hushed “oh my god” escaped her mouth when she had taken him all the way in. Her body quivered a little, and she fought hard not to give into the sensation again so soon.
“Are you okay?” he asked, slightly concerned. She could only nod for an answer. “Are you with me?”
The last rational remnant of her mind knew what he was referring to, that one night in Sunnydale. He had asked her the same thing when they had been in her kitchen after the night in the abandoned house. All of his insecurity about their relationship had been evident on his face, the fear of having regained her trust and loosing it again, the fear of loosing that last bit of hope.
Their eyes met for a long moment, and Buffy’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, she breathed, running a hand over his face, reassuring him that she wasn’t a dream. “Yes. I’m here. I’m with you.”
An eternity ticked by in which they just sat in silence. Ever so slowly, she started to move in his lap, lifting her weight, then sinking down again. She leaned her forehead against his, her eyes never leaving his.
She wanted to draw this out, make it last as long as possible but the feel of him inside her, and the touch of his fingers was more than she could bear.
Her head rolled back, the long tresses of her hair falling down her back. His name blended into a strangled little cry that escaped her throat when she came for the second time.
Spike’s lips found her throat, gently nipping at the soft flesh. Her pulse was throbbing against his tongue, her body shuddering in his embrace. He looked at her again, drinking in the sight of her.
She was beautiful.
Her skin seemed to glow with a fine sheen of sweat as she leaned back into his arms. Her mouth parted in a silent gasp, and she drew in a shaky breath.
He had slept with her countless times, he had made her come in numerous ways but she had never looked this beautiful to him. She was there, she was with him. She came for him, with his name on her lips.
“I love you,” Spike said almost matter-of-factly. He wanted to say something more but words failed him.
The world around them seemed to disappear. She became his world, his life, his soul, his sun. She was everything.
The sensation of her body around him, the raw power of his emotions took him over the edge. And her along with him again.
She was clinging to him as though her life depended on it. At a leisurely pace, she moved against him, riding on the waves of her pleasure. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she pressed up against him, her heart thumping wildly inside her chest.
“Love you,” Buffy murmured against his neck, gently kissing him. “I love you, too.”
Neither of them knew how long they sat like this, him buried inside her, holding her in a tight embrace. Whenever she took a breath that was a little too deep, a shudder went through her body, making her cling to him even more.
After what seemed like hours, Spike wanted to pull back from her to lie back down but she held on to him.
“Don’t,” she whispered, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Can we… I want to feel you… inside.” And still, even after all these years, she felt uncomfortable making such a request.
Spike smiled at her, warm and gentle. “Just getting a little more comfortable.” When a tiny frown marred her brow, he added in a playful tone, “That’s what you’ getting for dating old men.”
She matched his tone. “And I don’t even get to inherit anything.”
He pulled her flush against him, making her yelp in delight. He linked one of his legs around the back of her calf, before he turned to one side, laying her down beside him.
“That better?” A smirk tugged at his lips, and she nodded for an answer. He brushed the hair from her forehead, pressing a soft kiss to her skin.
Buffy looked at him for a long while, studying his features as he studied hers.
They had been in a similar position a decade ago, only less intimate. Or well, differently intimate. If she wasn’t aware that it had been a long process, she would have said that she had fallen for him that very moment. But no, she had known on various occasions. When he had asked her for help in the old woman’s basement; when she had freed him from the cave; in the night after her date with Robin Wood; and many, many more times. Those little looks, little gestures (some of which Andrew had burned on that DVD) that had proven his feelings more than the words she had refused to believe for such a long time.
Suddenly, out of the blue, she said, “I’m cookies.”
***
Chapter 16
Chapter 16
’just the way that her hair fell down around her face
And I recall my fall from grace
Another time another place’
- “lady writer” by dire straits
Buffy had closed the shades of her window when she had gotten up to use the bathroom. Now, only a little of the grey sunlight filtered into the room.
The Slayer sat, her knees pulled up to her body, on her easy chair in the corner of the bedroom. She wore Spike’s shirt that fit even more loosely on her frame that it did on his.
The vampire still lay in bed, sound asleep. The bedsheet gathered around his hips; one hand bent beneath his head, the other across his belly. His face was twitching in his sleep, and although Buffy would never admit it, it was the cutest thing in the world.
She had made herself a cup of instant coffee, her hands now clamped around the mug. A chill ran down her spine when memories of last night bubbled up inside her. A good chill for good memories.
They had done it a few more times that night. Sometimes sweet and slow. Sometimes, if not exactly wild, then a little more playful. That last time had almost been in slow motion, as if they were trying to memorize each other’s bodies down to the last detail.
They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, their limbs entangled, her head on his chest. On some occasions in the past, she had fallen asleep in his arms after an exhausting night but she had never felt this… safe. Secure. Home, even.
“You know, it’s pretty rude to stare at people like that.”
Buffy nearly jumped out of her chair, sending her coffee flying, as Spike suddenly addressed her. He hadn’t even opened his eyes but an amused smile tugged at his lips.
“Thank god you’re not people,” she replied with a smile that he hopefully heard in her voice.
Spike blinked his eyes open, first one, then the other. He eyed her almost curiously. “This is new,” he said.
“What?” She took a sip from her coffee.
“You, hanging around after a good night’s shag,” He sat up, bunching the bedsheet around his hips.
“It’s my apartment,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And you really don’t have to make it sound so naughty.” She sounded a little pissed.
“Oh, it was naughty,” he raised an eyebrow at her. After a beat when he saw her expression, he added, “We suck at this, don’t we?”
“The morning after? Yeah.” A grin appeared on Buffy’s face.
Their eyes met for a long moment. “Spike?” Her tone was quiet, almost shy. “When this is over… are you going to go away again?”
He remained silent for a few seconds, then rose from the bed to slip into his pants. When he looked at Buffy, she stared at him with huge, green eyes.
“Are you leav--?” she started but he cut her off.
“No, this just feels like a ‘pants on’ moment.” He buttoned up his jeans, came over to her and crouched down in front of her. “Buffy,” he began, deadly serious, taking her free hand into his. “Did anything happen in the last few hours that makes you think that I’m going to spend another second away from you?”
When she spoke, she sounded all but childlike, embarrassed. She even pouted a little. “No.”
“Well, ask me again, then.”
“Are you going to go away again?”
“No,” he replied. A simple word that meant so much more.
Buffy put her mug down on the little end table by her chair, cupped his face, and placed a long kiss on his mouth. When she wanted to pull back again, he held on to her, deepening the kiss, taking her breath away.
Breaking away from him, she smirked at him. “We really don’t have to spend every second together, you know.”
He grinned at her. “Hell, no. I was just trying to be romantic.”
She let out a relieved sigh. “Thank god. ‘Cause that would be really annoying.”
In an instant, she had her arms wrapped around his neck, tussling him to the floor. The vampire let out a surprised yelp but welcomed her with a hard kiss.
His hands slipped underneath his shirt. Much to his surprise, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He cocked an eyebrow at her and she mimicked it with a naughty look.
Buffy started trailing little licks and kisses down his throat, grinding her pelvis against his. He let out a strangled groan but kept her hips in a firm grip.
Suddenly, a thought popped up in his head, something that had already bugged him the night before. “Cookies?” he asked out of the blue.
She looked up at him, resting her head on his chest. “Yeah.”
“Last night you said ‘I’m cookies’…” he let his words trail off, leaving her room to answer.
She hesitated for a long moment. “The night Angel came to Sunnydale, he asked me how I felt about you. I told him that… I wasn’t ready for a relationship, that I was… cookie dough, waiting to be baked. And now…”
“You’re cookies,” he finished for her.
She blinked, then nodded. “Yep.”
He brushed hair from her forehead, then tilted her head up. “What does that mean? For…,” he took a deep breath. “For us.”
Lying there on his stomach, Buffy looked away from him. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I mean… I know that… I do know that I want… this. For all those years, I thought about what things would be like if you came back. And I figured that… I really… really wanted this. But at the same time…” When her voice started to shake, she drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes to collect herself. “All of my relationships have failed because of what I do, because of who I am. People die all around me, people I love and care about. For all I know, I might die tonight. I can only look as far as the next fight. As much as I want this, as much as I want to look ahead and think about puppies and white picket fences, I just can’t.” Again, she hesitated. “I have no idea what the future holds. But…,” she looked at him again, “What would you say if… we found out. One step at a time.”
For a long moment, he just looked at her. Then, a slow smile spread on his lips. “I love you,” he shrugged, matter-of-factly. “I told you so. I showed you. And now that you love me back, I’m not going to let you go. So wherever this is leading – preferably not to the pointy end of that picket fence of yours – I’ll be there.”
Buffy couldn’t help but blink a stray tear away. “Were you always like this? Saying things like this?”
He smiled lopsidedly. “I guess.” Then he rolled his eyes. “It’s just that in my day, nobody wanted to hear it.
“Well, at first I didn’t want to hear it either. But now…,” she crawled up his body again, straddling his hips, placing a soft kiss on his lips.
Spike’s smile became impish. “Yeah, but that’s just my wit and charm.” She circled her hips against his and he drew in a breath. “Among other things.”
The kiss became more heated, his hand tracing lazy patters over her thighs and up to her lower back. She ground her pelvis against his, making him moan in pleasure. He pressed her closer to him, seeking the friction against her pliant, half-naked body.
Without a warning, she pulled back from him, hopping to her feet. Whether she was aware of it or not, she gave him a nice view underneath the shirt. “I have to take a shower. It’s going to be a long day.” For a teasingly long moment, she stood over him before she disappeared on her way to the bathroom.
For a minute, Spike just lay there on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He could still feel the warmth of her body lingering against his skin. If he had missed one thing in those past ten years, it was her warmth.
She was right. They couldn’t have a real relationship. They didn’t have a future. Although he was immortal (or at least a whole lot tougher to kill), he had never thought about the future before. He had always lived for the moment, had savored every second of his un-life. The best thing they could do now was to do exactly that.
One step at a time.
It was more than he had ever hoped for.
Slowly, Spike rose to his feet, headed over into the living room. “You’re a real tease, you know?” He called out to her.
“Why?” came her voice from the bathroom.
“First you rev up the engine, than you just leave me hanging like that. Well, not hanging exactly but… At least, you could have left me my shirt.”
“So, I guess you guys made up.” Willow stood in the door to the apartment, a cheeky smile on her lips.
Spike froze on his way to the kitchen, slowly turning on his heel towards the door. If he had been able to blush, he would have done so then.
“No, we just got naked and played with our clothes,” he replied dryly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.
The redhead flashed him a smile. “Thought so.” She bounced a little on the balls of her feet. “It’s good, though. We can’t have your extra drama added to the whole apocalypse thing.”
“Hey, how about you get in here with me, and we can finish where I left off?” Buffy poked her head out the bathroom door, wrapped in nothing but a pink, fluffy towel. When she spotted her best friend by the door, her face flushed with deep crimson. “Willow, hi.”
“Hey, Buffy,” the witch waved a hand. “I don’t mean to keep you guys from any… urgent business but… I have called for a meeting in 15 minutes. There is something you should know.”
“Sure, well be down in…,” Buffy started but Spike interrupted her.
“Half an hour.” He looked pointedly at the Slayer.
“Half an hour,” she repeated, her blush deepening.
Willow beamed at the couple. “Alright. See you in half an hour then.” She turned on her heel. When she was already halfway out the door, “Have fun,” she sing-songed.
A beat passed in silence between them, then Spike turned to Buffy. “You were saying…?”
***
And I recall my fall from grace
Another time another place’
- “lady writer” by dire straits
Buffy had closed the shades of her window when she had gotten up to use the bathroom. Now, only a little of the grey sunlight filtered into the room.
The Slayer sat, her knees pulled up to her body, on her easy chair in the corner of the bedroom. She wore Spike’s shirt that fit even more loosely on her frame that it did on his.
The vampire still lay in bed, sound asleep. The bedsheet gathered around his hips; one hand bent beneath his head, the other across his belly. His face was twitching in his sleep, and although Buffy would never admit it, it was the cutest thing in the world.
She had made herself a cup of instant coffee, her hands now clamped around the mug. A chill ran down her spine when memories of last night bubbled up inside her. A good chill for good memories.
They had done it a few more times that night. Sometimes sweet and slow. Sometimes, if not exactly wild, then a little more playful. That last time had almost been in slow motion, as if they were trying to memorize each other’s bodies down to the last detail.
They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms, their limbs entangled, her head on his chest. On some occasions in the past, she had fallen asleep in his arms after an exhausting night but she had never felt this… safe. Secure. Home, even.
“You know, it’s pretty rude to stare at people like that.”
Buffy nearly jumped out of her chair, sending her coffee flying, as Spike suddenly addressed her. He hadn’t even opened his eyes but an amused smile tugged at his lips.
“Thank god you’re not people,” she replied with a smile that he hopefully heard in her voice.
Spike blinked his eyes open, first one, then the other. He eyed her almost curiously. “This is new,” he said.
“What?” She took a sip from her coffee.
“You, hanging around after a good night’s shag,” He sat up, bunching the bedsheet around his hips.
“It’s my apartment,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And you really don’t have to make it sound so naughty.” She sounded a little pissed.
“Oh, it was naughty,” he raised an eyebrow at her. After a beat when he saw her expression, he added, “We suck at this, don’t we?”
“The morning after? Yeah.” A grin appeared on Buffy’s face.
Their eyes met for a long moment. “Spike?” Her tone was quiet, almost shy. “When this is over… are you going to go away again?”
He remained silent for a few seconds, then rose from the bed to slip into his pants. When he looked at Buffy, she stared at him with huge, green eyes.
“Are you leav--?” she started but he cut her off.
“No, this just feels like a ‘pants on’ moment.” He buttoned up his jeans, came over to her and crouched down in front of her. “Buffy,” he began, deadly serious, taking her free hand into his. “Did anything happen in the last few hours that makes you think that I’m going to spend another second away from you?”
When she spoke, she sounded all but childlike, embarrassed. She even pouted a little. “No.”
“Well, ask me again, then.”
“Are you going to go away again?”
“No,” he replied. A simple word that meant so much more.
Buffy put her mug down on the little end table by her chair, cupped his face, and placed a long kiss on his mouth. When she wanted to pull back again, he held on to her, deepening the kiss, taking her breath away.
Breaking away from him, she smirked at him. “We really don’t have to spend every second together, you know.”
He grinned at her. “Hell, no. I was just trying to be romantic.”
She let out a relieved sigh. “Thank god. ‘Cause that would be really annoying.”
In an instant, she had her arms wrapped around his neck, tussling him to the floor. The vampire let out a surprised yelp but welcomed her with a hard kiss.
His hands slipped underneath his shirt. Much to his surprise, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He cocked an eyebrow at her and she mimicked it with a naughty look.
Buffy started trailing little licks and kisses down his throat, grinding her pelvis against his. He let out a strangled groan but kept her hips in a firm grip.
Suddenly, a thought popped up in his head, something that had already bugged him the night before. “Cookies?” he asked out of the blue.
She looked up at him, resting her head on his chest. “Yeah.”
“Last night you said ‘I’m cookies’…” he let his words trail off, leaving her room to answer.
She hesitated for a long moment. “The night Angel came to Sunnydale, he asked me how I felt about you. I told him that… I wasn’t ready for a relationship, that I was… cookie dough, waiting to be baked. And now…”
“You’re cookies,” he finished for her.
She blinked, then nodded. “Yep.”
He brushed hair from her forehead, then tilted her head up. “What does that mean? For…,” he took a deep breath. “For us.”
Lying there on his stomach, Buffy looked away from him. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I mean… I know that… I do know that I want… this. For all those years, I thought about what things would be like if you came back. And I figured that… I really… really wanted this. But at the same time…” When her voice started to shake, she drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes to collect herself. “All of my relationships have failed because of what I do, because of who I am. People die all around me, people I love and care about. For all I know, I might die tonight. I can only look as far as the next fight. As much as I want this, as much as I want to look ahead and think about puppies and white picket fences, I just can’t.” Again, she hesitated. “I have no idea what the future holds. But…,” she looked at him again, “What would you say if… we found out. One step at a time.”
For a long moment, he just looked at her. Then, a slow smile spread on his lips. “I love you,” he shrugged, matter-of-factly. “I told you so. I showed you. And now that you love me back, I’m not going to let you go. So wherever this is leading – preferably not to the pointy end of that picket fence of yours – I’ll be there.”
Buffy couldn’t help but blink a stray tear away. “Were you always like this? Saying things like this?”
He smiled lopsidedly. “I guess.” Then he rolled his eyes. “It’s just that in my day, nobody wanted to hear it.
“Well, at first I didn’t want to hear it either. But now…,” she crawled up his body again, straddling his hips, placing a soft kiss on his lips.
Spike’s smile became impish. “Yeah, but that’s just my wit and charm.” She circled her hips against his and he drew in a breath. “Among other things.”
The kiss became more heated, his hand tracing lazy patters over her thighs and up to her lower back. She ground her pelvis against his, making him moan in pleasure. He pressed her closer to him, seeking the friction against her pliant, half-naked body.
Without a warning, she pulled back from him, hopping to her feet. Whether she was aware of it or not, she gave him a nice view underneath the shirt. “I have to take a shower. It’s going to be a long day.” For a teasingly long moment, she stood over him before she disappeared on her way to the bathroom.
For a minute, Spike just lay there on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He could still feel the warmth of her body lingering against his skin. If he had missed one thing in those past ten years, it was her warmth.
She was right. They couldn’t have a real relationship. They didn’t have a future. Although he was immortal (or at least a whole lot tougher to kill), he had never thought about the future before. He had always lived for the moment, had savored every second of his un-life. The best thing they could do now was to do exactly that.
One step at a time.
It was more than he had ever hoped for.
Slowly, Spike rose to his feet, headed over into the living room. “You’re a real tease, you know?” He called out to her.
“Why?” came her voice from the bathroom.
“First you rev up the engine, than you just leave me hanging like that. Well, not hanging exactly but… At least, you could have left me my shirt.”
“So, I guess you guys made up.” Willow stood in the door to the apartment, a cheeky smile on her lips.
Spike froze on his way to the kitchen, slowly turning on his heel towards the door. If he had been able to blush, he would have done so then.
“No, we just got naked and played with our clothes,” he replied dryly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants.
The redhead flashed him a smile. “Thought so.” She bounced a little on the balls of her feet. “It’s good, though. We can’t have your extra drama added to the whole apocalypse thing.”
“Hey, how about you get in here with me, and we can finish where I left off?” Buffy poked her head out the bathroom door, wrapped in nothing but a pink, fluffy towel. When she spotted her best friend by the door, her face flushed with deep crimson. “Willow, hi.”
“Hey, Buffy,” the witch waved a hand. “I don’t mean to keep you guys from any… urgent business but… I have called for a meeting in 15 minutes. There is something you should know.”
“Sure, well be down in…,” Buffy started but Spike interrupted her.
“Half an hour.” He looked pointedly at the Slayer.
“Half an hour,” she repeated, her blush deepening.
Willow beamed at the couple. “Alright. See you in half an hour then.” She turned on her heel. When she was already halfway out the door, “Have fun,” she sing-songed.
A beat passed in silence between them, then Spike turned to Buffy. “You were saying…?”
***
Chapter 17
Chapter 17
’you gotta know happy - you gotta know glad
because you're gonna know lonely
and you're gonna know bad’
- “the bug” by dire straits
Willow looked as though she was prepared to go to a funeral, her expression more than (pardon the pun) grave as she flipped through a pile of print-outs. She was alone in the conference room, her index finger circling around the rim of a coffee cup.
Buffy stopped short in the door, Spike bumping into her, when she saw that room was empty except for the redheaded witch.
“I thought this was an urgent conference,” she said, bewildered.
Willow looked up from her reading. “It is urgent, and it is a conference. The two of us, it would just be a talk. Three, that makes a conference.” Her peppy tone betrayed the seriousness on her face. “I wanted to talk to you guys first ‘cause… well… sit down.” She motioned to the two chairs next to hers.
“That doesn’t sound too good.” Buffy sighed as she slumped down in her chair. Her hair was still wet from the shower, her clothes in slight disarray. She put her hand on the armrest, Spike’s fingers intertwining with hers.
“Well, it’s kinda not.” She pulled a print out from the pile. “Last night, I finished the book Spike brought to see if there was something more on that ultimate sacrifice thing.”
“Please tell me you found something so that we don’t have to do this.” Buffy’s face twisted with a hopeless plea.
“I did some cross-referencing and some googling. There were some more hints to that sacrifice business. I told you how the Fates tend to operate, right? One spins the thread of life, the second measures, and the third cuts it whenever it pleases her.”
They both nodded in silence.
“I couldn’t find anything on how to destroy the Fates. As I said, those ancient things are usually really hard to come by. What I found, is this.” Willow pushed the printout across the table.
It showed a picture of what, in the original, might have been an etching of some sort, the lines slightly blurred and distorted. The etching was of three women in tunics, one holding a spindle, the next what looked like a ruler, the last a huge pair of scissors. Around the circular picture, two lines of some mysterious script wound between some fancy ornaments.
“Got a translation for that, Red?”
“Sure. It’s ancient Greek, by the way.” She pulled another paper from the pile. “It says: Three of perpetual beauty to judge over life, one with a life to spare to bring them down.”
For a moment, silence fell into the room. Buffy’s eyes shifted from Willow to Spike, then back to Willow.
“Okay, now I might be a little slow on the uptake here but what the hell does that mean?”
Again, silence. It took almost en entire minute before Spike finally spoke.
“It’s us.”
“That’s what I figured, yeah.” Willow made her usual ‘sorry, I have bad news’ face.
“Excuse me?” Buffy started to sound a little aggravated. “I still don’t get it. What do you mean ‘it’s us’?”
“One with a life to spare to bring them down,” Spike quoted, his index finger thumping down on the page. “These bitches take life whenever they feel like it. We both thought our time had come but we’ve been resurrected in one way or another. We got a second chance. Only in their world we mucked up the plan.” A frown appeared on Spike’s brow as though his own words didn’t make much sense to him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” again, Buffy’s gaze shifted between the two in disbelief.
“I’m afraid not,” Willow said apologetically, guilt all too obvious at the mentioning of Buffy’s resurrection. “There are a few more sources that confirm exactly that.”
“You sure it has to be us?”
“It doesn’t say that specifically, no. I think it’s referring to back-from-the-dead kind of people in general, someone who’s been technically dead for example.”
“Well, can’t we just ring up the next hospital or something?” A flicker of hope appeared on Buffy’s face.
“We can’t go just and grab someone. This isn’t ‘I bet you will’,” Spike interjected.
“A few years ago you would’ve jumped on the whole human sacrifice thing like a rat on rice.” Buffy eyes him, slight anger flaring up in her voice.
“Hello?” Spike raised his hands in defiance. “Soul.”
The Slayer’s shoulders slumped a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I really don’t want to die again. Not now.” For a moment, their eyes met and the world seemed to matter a little less.
“Neither do I.” Spike laid his hand back on hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Willow cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her. “There is more.” She flipped through the pile of printouts. “I found something about the ritual used to awaken the Fates. Maybe that can come in handy.” She produced a bunch of stapled-together pages. “It really is amazing what you can find on the internet these days. Anybody can pull an apocalypse if they know what to google.”
“Focus, please.” Buffy interrupted her friend’s ramble.
“Yes, sorry.” The redhead glanced down at the pages. “A few thousand years ago, when the Fates were last active, people started minding their own business. The ladies lost more and more of their impact on the world, becoming weaker. One day, this priest comes along, and he banishes them into a stone tablet. I don’t know how he managed to dig up someone with a life to spare but he did it.”
“Let me guess, that stone tablet got lost?” Spike asked, slightly annoyed.
“Not lost, no. They hid it very well but during one Crusade or another, the one who knew about the hiding place got killed.”
“And then what? Someone of the Secte just stumbled over it on a vacation to Greece?” Buffy sounded even more annoyed.
“Not quite. A while back, there was an earthquake in Greece. Some temple collapsed and as people started digging through the rubble, they discovered an unknown cave,” Willow explained patiently, illustrating her findings with pictures on the printouts.
“And then someone stumbled over it?”
“Yes, literally. And then they put it on Ebay.”
“That’s a nice little story got there, Red. But I don’t see how that’s helping to not get us killed.”
Willow looked a little hurt at Spike’s comment but continued without taking any more notice. “I believe when we get a hold on the tablet, I might be able to ban the Fates again. The description of that ritual was detailed enough to at least try it.”
“What if you fail?” Buffy asked, concerned.
“We don’t need to worry about that. If I fail, the world’s shot to hell anyway.
***
The basement was the only quiet place in the entire building. It was a maze of hallways and storage rooms. On one end of the main hallway was the boiler room, the machine humming quietly behind a steel-framed door. On the other end were the laundry room and a huge storage room including an almost industrial sized cooling room.
Spike’s didn’t have quite the fondest memories of basements. First, he had spent some crazy months camped on the Hellmouth, then, he’d spent some crazier months in Buffy’s basement. His ghostly endeavors at “Wolfram & Hart” notwithstanding.
Things never ended well for him when it came to basements.
At least he had dug up a bottle of scotch, probably used for cooking. That, or one of the girls had a serious drinking problem.
Now, he sat at the end of the hallway, hidden in the dark, staring at the concrete wall opposite him. Every now and then, he took a deep swig from the bottle. Of course, being a vampire kept him from getting seriously drunk. He would need much, much more than a bottle of scotch to accomplish that. But it wasn’t about getting drunk, it was just about taking the edge off a little.
He had known if before. Things just wouldn’t work out with Buffy. No matter what, it just wasn’t meant to be. Whenever things seemed to be going well, something like this happened.
Not that the prophecy or ritual was awfully specific but they both knew it was them. Not both of them, but one. One of them was going to die.
Footsteps sounded down the hall, then the harsh neon lights flickered to life.
Spike growled a curse, shielding his eyes.
“Spike? Is that you?” Andrew appeared about the corner, carrying a shopping basket and a piece of paper.
“Yeah,” the vampire replied, annoyed.
“What are you doing down here? You didn’t go crazy again, did you?”
“Maybe. What do you know?” The vampire peered up at the boy, a weird little grin appearing on his face. A horrified beat passed between them. “No, I’m not.” Spike reassured him. “This is just the only place without the constant chatter and clatter of the Slayer horde.”
Andrew heaved a relieved little sigh. “Yeah, the girls can be pretty wild.”
Spike eyes him questioningly when he sat down next to him. “What are you doing?”
“Catching up. We haven’t talked in a while,” Andrew replied with a cheerful smile.
“And we talked for hours before that?”
“Of course. Remember our secret mission to the monastery? Or when we hunted down Dana the crazy Slayer?”
“Yeah,” Spike rolled his eyes, taking a swig from the scotch. “Though I rather wish I didn’t.”
“Ah,” Andrew waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “The two of us, two heroes with a dark past. Fumbling our way back to the good side.”
Spike looked at him in horror. “Can you not use the word fumbling when you talk to me?”
As the lights winked out, Andrew’s crimson blush disappeared in the dark.
“So, everything work out between you and Buffy?” he asked after a while.
Spike sighed beside him. “Kind of. Not that it matters anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
He told him about the Fates and the ritual, and how things might not look too good for him and Buffy.
“That sucks,” Andrew all but blurted.
“That is does.” Spike took another sip from the scotch. “It’s just not meant to be. Whatever I do, it’s just not enough. I try to stay away from her, to forget her, to keep her safe. If I was chained to a rock, trying to reach for the grapes I’ll never get, it wouldn’t be surprising. I don’t deserve to be with her after all.” The vampire knew that he was moping but he didn’t care. Things were already screwed, one more nudge didn’t matter.
“Do you really believe that? That you don’t deserve her?”
“It’s sort of based on experience.”
“It’s not true, you know.” Andrew sounded much more mature that Spike would’ve thought to be possible. “You deserve her. And she deserves you.”
“And you’ve got all the insight?”
“Yeah. I’ve been watching you guys.” After a moment, Andrew added, “in a totally non-voyeuristic way. You’ve been through hell for her, getting your soul and all that. And when you died, she went through hell because of you. I don’t know everything that happened between the two of you but if I had to name one thing about you guys… you deserve each other.”
For a few seconds, silence fell. The only audible sound was the hum of the boiler down the hall.
Spike had to give the kid credit; he knew how to give motivating speeches. He must’ve read a book or something.
“You really shouldn’t sit down here, all brooding.”
“I am not brooding.” Spike’s harsh tone made the little guy twitch.
“Fine, you’re not brooding. But don’t give up hope either. Willow will figure something out. And even if she doesn’t, you really think you should be sitting here with me instead of up there with Buffy?”
In a flash, Spike was on his feet. “I will never admit that I said this but… you’re right.” He shoved the bottle into Andrew’s hand. “Got to see a man about a girl.”
“I know that I’m right.” He heard the boy murmur behind him as he headed for the stairs.
Apparently, hell had frozen over after all.
***
because you're gonna know lonely
and you're gonna know bad’
- “the bug” by dire straits
Willow looked as though she was prepared to go to a funeral, her expression more than (pardon the pun) grave as she flipped through a pile of print-outs. She was alone in the conference room, her index finger circling around the rim of a coffee cup.
Buffy stopped short in the door, Spike bumping into her, when she saw that room was empty except for the redheaded witch.
“I thought this was an urgent conference,” she said, bewildered.
Willow looked up from her reading. “It is urgent, and it is a conference. The two of us, it would just be a talk. Three, that makes a conference.” Her peppy tone betrayed the seriousness on her face. “I wanted to talk to you guys first ‘cause… well… sit down.” She motioned to the two chairs next to hers.
“That doesn’t sound too good.” Buffy sighed as she slumped down in her chair. Her hair was still wet from the shower, her clothes in slight disarray. She put her hand on the armrest, Spike’s fingers intertwining with hers.
“Well, it’s kinda not.” She pulled a print out from the pile. “Last night, I finished the book Spike brought to see if there was something more on that ultimate sacrifice thing.”
“Please tell me you found something so that we don’t have to do this.” Buffy’s face twisted with a hopeless plea.
“I did some cross-referencing and some googling. There were some more hints to that sacrifice business. I told you how the Fates tend to operate, right? One spins the thread of life, the second measures, and the third cuts it whenever it pleases her.”
They both nodded in silence.
“I couldn’t find anything on how to destroy the Fates. As I said, those ancient things are usually really hard to come by. What I found, is this.” Willow pushed the printout across the table.
It showed a picture of what, in the original, might have been an etching of some sort, the lines slightly blurred and distorted. The etching was of three women in tunics, one holding a spindle, the next what looked like a ruler, the last a huge pair of scissors. Around the circular picture, two lines of some mysterious script wound between some fancy ornaments.
“Got a translation for that, Red?”
“Sure. It’s ancient Greek, by the way.” She pulled another paper from the pile. “It says: Three of perpetual beauty to judge over life, one with a life to spare to bring them down.”
For a moment, silence fell into the room. Buffy’s eyes shifted from Willow to Spike, then back to Willow.
“Okay, now I might be a little slow on the uptake here but what the hell does that mean?”
Again, silence. It took almost en entire minute before Spike finally spoke.
“It’s us.”
“That’s what I figured, yeah.” Willow made her usual ‘sorry, I have bad news’ face.
“Excuse me?” Buffy started to sound a little aggravated. “I still don’t get it. What do you mean ‘it’s us’?”
“One with a life to spare to bring them down,” Spike quoted, his index finger thumping down on the page. “These bitches take life whenever they feel like it. We both thought our time had come but we’ve been resurrected in one way or another. We got a second chance. Only in their world we mucked up the plan.” A frown appeared on Spike’s brow as though his own words didn’t make much sense to him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” again, Buffy’s gaze shifted between the two in disbelief.
“I’m afraid not,” Willow said apologetically, guilt all too obvious at the mentioning of Buffy’s resurrection. “There are a few more sources that confirm exactly that.”
“You sure it has to be us?”
“It doesn’t say that specifically, no. I think it’s referring to back-from-the-dead kind of people in general, someone who’s been technically dead for example.”
“Well, can’t we just ring up the next hospital or something?” A flicker of hope appeared on Buffy’s face.
“We can’t go just and grab someone. This isn’t ‘I bet you will’,” Spike interjected.
“A few years ago you would’ve jumped on the whole human sacrifice thing like a rat on rice.” Buffy eyes him, slight anger flaring up in her voice.
“Hello?” Spike raised his hands in defiance. “Soul.”
The Slayer’s shoulders slumped a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I really don’t want to die again. Not now.” For a moment, their eyes met and the world seemed to matter a little less.
“Neither do I.” Spike laid his hand back on hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Willow cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her. “There is more.” She flipped through the pile of printouts. “I found something about the ritual used to awaken the Fates. Maybe that can come in handy.” She produced a bunch of stapled-together pages. “It really is amazing what you can find on the internet these days. Anybody can pull an apocalypse if they know what to google.”
“Focus, please.” Buffy interrupted her friend’s ramble.
“Yes, sorry.” The redhead glanced down at the pages. “A few thousand years ago, when the Fates were last active, people started minding their own business. The ladies lost more and more of their impact on the world, becoming weaker. One day, this priest comes along, and he banishes them into a stone tablet. I don’t know how he managed to dig up someone with a life to spare but he did it.”
“Let me guess, that stone tablet got lost?” Spike asked, slightly annoyed.
“Not lost, no. They hid it very well but during one Crusade or another, the one who knew about the hiding place got killed.”
“And then what? Someone of the Secte just stumbled over it on a vacation to Greece?” Buffy sounded even more annoyed.
“Not quite. A while back, there was an earthquake in Greece. Some temple collapsed and as people started digging through the rubble, they discovered an unknown cave,” Willow explained patiently, illustrating her findings with pictures on the printouts.
“And then someone stumbled over it?”
“Yes, literally. And then they put it on Ebay.”
“That’s a nice little story got there, Red. But I don’t see how that’s helping to not get us killed.”
Willow looked a little hurt at Spike’s comment but continued without taking any more notice. “I believe when we get a hold on the tablet, I might be able to ban the Fates again. The description of that ritual was detailed enough to at least try it.”
“What if you fail?” Buffy asked, concerned.
“We don’t need to worry about that. If I fail, the world’s shot to hell anyway.
***
The basement was the only quiet place in the entire building. It was a maze of hallways and storage rooms. On one end of the main hallway was the boiler room, the machine humming quietly behind a steel-framed door. On the other end were the laundry room and a huge storage room including an almost industrial sized cooling room.
Spike’s didn’t have quite the fondest memories of basements. First, he had spent some crazy months camped on the Hellmouth, then, he’d spent some crazier months in Buffy’s basement. His ghostly endeavors at “Wolfram & Hart” notwithstanding.
Things never ended well for him when it came to basements.
At least he had dug up a bottle of scotch, probably used for cooking. That, or one of the girls had a serious drinking problem.
Now, he sat at the end of the hallway, hidden in the dark, staring at the concrete wall opposite him. Every now and then, he took a deep swig from the bottle. Of course, being a vampire kept him from getting seriously drunk. He would need much, much more than a bottle of scotch to accomplish that. But it wasn’t about getting drunk, it was just about taking the edge off a little.
He had known if before. Things just wouldn’t work out with Buffy. No matter what, it just wasn’t meant to be. Whenever things seemed to be going well, something like this happened.
Not that the prophecy or ritual was awfully specific but they both knew it was them. Not both of them, but one. One of them was going to die.
Footsteps sounded down the hall, then the harsh neon lights flickered to life.
Spike growled a curse, shielding his eyes.
“Spike? Is that you?” Andrew appeared about the corner, carrying a shopping basket and a piece of paper.
“Yeah,” the vampire replied, annoyed.
“What are you doing down here? You didn’t go crazy again, did you?”
“Maybe. What do you know?” The vampire peered up at the boy, a weird little grin appearing on his face. A horrified beat passed between them. “No, I’m not.” Spike reassured him. “This is just the only place without the constant chatter and clatter of the Slayer horde.”
Andrew heaved a relieved little sigh. “Yeah, the girls can be pretty wild.”
Spike eyes him questioningly when he sat down next to him. “What are you doing?”
“Catching up. We haven’t talked in a while,” Andrew replied with a cheerful smile.
“And we talked for hours before that?”
“Of course. Remember our secret mission to the monastery? Or when we hunted down Dana the crazy Slayer?”
“Yeah,” Spike rolled his eyes, taking a swig from the scotch. “Though I rather wish I didn’t.”
“Ah,” Andrew waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “The two of us, two heroes with a dark past. Fumbling our way back to the good side.”
Spike looked at him in horror. “Can you not use the word fumbling when you talk to me?”
As the lights winked out, Andrew’s crimson blush disappeared in the dark.
“So, everything work out between you and Buffy?” he asked after a while.
Spike sighed beside him. “Kind of. Not that it matters anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
He told him about the Fates and the ritual, and how things might not look too good for him and Buffy.
“That sucks,” Andrew all but blurted.
“That is does.” Spike took another sip from the scotch. “It’s just not meant to be. Whatever I do, it’s just not enough. I try to stay away from her, to forget her, to keep her safe. If I was chained to a rock, trying to reach for the grapes I’ll never get, it wouldn’t be surprising. I don’t deserve to be with her after all.” The vampire knew that he was moping but he didn’t care. Things were already screwed, one more nudge didn’t matter.
“Do you really believe that? That you don’t deserve her?”
“It’s sort of based on experience.”
“It’s not true, you know.” Andrew sounded much more mature that Spike would’ve thought to be possible. “You deserve her. And she deserves you.”
“And you’ve got all the insight?”
“Yeah. I’ve been watching you guys.” After a moment, Andrew added, “in a totally non-voyeuristic way. You’ve been through hell for her, getting your soul and all that. And when you died, she went through hell because of you. I don’t know everything that happened between the two of you but if I had to name one thing about you guys… you deserve each other.”
For a few seconds, silence fell. The only audible sound was the hum of the boiler down the hall.
Spike had to give the kid credit; he knew how to give motivating speeches. He must’ve read a book or something.
“You really shouldn’t sit down here, all brooding.”
“I am not brooding.” Spike’s harsh tone made the little guy twitch.
“Fine, you’re not brooding. But don’t give up hope either. Willow will figure something out. And even if she doesn’t, you really think you should be sitting here with me instead of up there with Buffy?”
In a flash, Spike was on his feet. “I will never admit that I said this but… you’re right.” He shoved the bottle into Andrew’s hand. “Got to see a man about a girl.”
“I know that I’m right.” He heard the boy murmur behind him as he headed for the stairs.
Apparently, hell had frozen over after all.
***
Chapter 18
Chapter 18
’well now it's too late for talking we can talk later on
let the saxophone play us till the chorus of dawn
and all I need is a little oblivion, you don't need protection’
- “angel of mercy” by dire straits
Buffy and Willow had tried to come up with a cunning plan to not only get rid of the Fates but also to not get the Slayer or Spike killed in the process.
The witch had whipped up a blue print of the old factory, and Buffy had showed her where the Secte had kept the Fates hidden for the time being.
That place was a maze. If they were to encounter them there again, they would need more than a half dozen Slayers. They would have to get the big guns, literally and figuratively.
And of course, they had talked about Buffy making up with Spike (though she had left out all the juicy details), and their possible, impeding death.
As it was Willow’s nature, she had nothing but reassuring words for her friend. She knew that painting it all pink and shiny wouldn’t help much but telling Buffy not to lose hope was the best she could do right now.
*
Now, Buffy stood in her kitchen, examining the content of a few Chinese take-out boxes. Chicken Lo Mein, egg rolls with indefinable content, and most of the fried noodles she had ordered. Those seemed to be the most edible, and her stomach was already letting itself be known.
With her fingers, she dug into the box, producing a small bundle of noodles. She let it curl into her mouth, munched on it, and licked her fingers.
“You know that looks really sexy.” Spike stood in the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Buffy could swear that she saw a little smoke curl around his shoulders. Of course, she hadn’t closed the blinds in the living-room.
She smiled around another noodle-knot. “Really?”
“Yeah, makes me think of all the other things you can do with that tongue of yours.” He shot her a naughty smirk, one eyebrow raised.
“You’re a pig,” she replied with her mouth full.
“Weren’t you told not to speak with a full mouth?” Slowly, he sauntered over to her, on the prowl.
“Usually,” she put the box down on the counter, matching his smirk. “You didn’t mind all that much.”
Buffy let out a surprised yelp when Spike grabbed her by her arms, pulling her against him. Before she could say anything, his mouth was covering hers, kissing her with heated passion.
“Are you drunk? You taste like scotch,” she managed when she pulled back for air.
“Had a drink, yeah. And I talked to Andrew.”
“You talked to Andrew, and now you’re horny?”
“Ruin the mood, why don’t you.” He gave her an annoyed glare.
“Sorry,” she lowered her eyes sheepishly. “You can still ravage me, if you want.”
“Yes, please.” The gentle kindness of his eyes betrayed Spike’s words. His eyelids flickered shut when Buffy’s hand cupped the front of his pants, making him suck in a breath.
He pushed into her touch, capturing her mouth again. Scooping her up with one arm around her waist, he unceremoniously plopped her down on the counter.
What followed had been a frantic routine ten years ago. Tugging on clothes, seeking skin wherever possible. Hushed names, whispered pleas.
It was quick but not as rough as they had once been used to. A quick release of tension, the pressure of the things to come lifted off their shoulders for a brief moment.
Buffy clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging gently into his flesh. She had the face buried against his the crook of his neck, breathing against his skin, as he moved inside her.
Release came quickly for both of them. They stayed in their position for a long while, Buffy’s hips slowly circling against his, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure.
Slowly, they disengaged, straightening their clothes. Spike brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.
“Whatever happens when we go against the Fates,” he said, his voice serious, “I want you to know that I’ll do anything I can to protect you.”
Buffy immediately sobered, the afterglow evaporating in an instant. “So you want to sacrifice yourself?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ll just make sure that nothing happens to you.”
“So you do want to sacrifice yourself.” Anger flared up in her voice. “That’s not going to happen.”
“What? You want to do it?” He towered over her, his eyes shining crystal blue. “No way in bloody hell.”
For a long moment, Buffy met his furious gaze.
And then she broke out into a fit of giggles. In fact, it was a full-fledged laughter. She had to brace herself against his chest to keep from stumbling forward. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“What? What’s so fucking funny?” Spike was more irritated than angry.
It took Buffy a while before she had calmed down again. “It’s just…,” she wiped a few stray tears away. “It’s just that… we just had this incredibly hot sex and now we’re arguing on who gets to die first. And that’s just… pretty hilarious.” Again, she burst into laughter. This time, Spike joined her.
“I just couldn’t stand to see you die, okay? Not again,” he said when the hysteria had worn off again.
“Same here.” She lightly ran a hand over his cheek. “We have to figure this out. I can’t lose you again.”
“You won’t.” He pressed a hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not if I can help it.”
Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. Her hands ran lazy patterns over his back, tracing his muscles underneath his shirt. For a brief moment she wished she would hear his heart beating inside his chest. She had never wished for that before, had always taken his silent presence more or less for granted. But in those few seconds, she wanted nothing more than to be normal, not to be a Slayer who was in love with yet another vampire. It was just plain wrong, everything about it.
It was the ultimate cosmic joke of the Powers that Be.
“What’s going to happen now?” Spike broke the silence after a while.
“We’re going to leave at nightfall,” she murmured against his chest.
“Very considerate.”
“Willow is going to fill the girls in. She will stay here to prepare everything for the banning ritual. As soon as we get a hold of the stone tablet, we’re going to rush it to her.”
“Why isn’t she coming along? Can’t she do her mojo then and there?”
“It has to be done on consecrated ground. We had the building blessed when we moved in.”
“That’s why what we just did felt so naughty.”
“No, that’s your soul, honey.” She patted him on the butt, peering up at him with a cheeky smile.
“Could you please not call me honey? I fell downgraded enough already.” A mixture of a smile and sincerity crossed his features.
“You don’t have any reason to, loverboy.” Buffy stood in tiptoes and gave him a peck on the nose.
“If we survive this,” Spike’s hands closed around her arms in mock fury, “I will make you pay for that, Slayer.”
“God, I hope so.” A beat passed before she spoke again. “I missed you. Everything about you.”
He looked at her for a moment; the shadow of painful memories clouded his face. “Everything? Even the bad stuff?”
A hundred and twenty years as a vampire but in moments like this, he was that man again. That short-sighted lovefool.
“Yes, even that.” She took his hands in hers, brushing her thumbs over their backs. “I know that you don’t want to hear this but… you didn’t hurt me back then. Not more than I hurt myself. I need you to know that.”
He drew in a shaky breath, and lowered his gaze from hers. Slowly, he nodded weakly. “Thank you.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.
Once again, Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug.
She had been right. He hadn’t wanted to hear it but they both knew that they needed that kind of closure. Back in Sunnydale, they had never talked about it, had treated it with an awkward but silent understanding. But now things had changed.
Each of them might die in a matter of hours. They had to make the best of the time they had left. Even if that meant digging up those ugly stories. It was part of their history.
“You want to watch a movie?” Buffy asked after a while, and totally out of the blue.
Spike took half a step back, pulling out of her embrace. “What?”
“Sorry, I just thought… there isn’t much we can do before the fight. And we shouldn’t… well, exhaust ourselves, so… I thought we could watch a movie.”
“Yeah, we could do that.” He smiled at her, giving her a peck on the forehead. “You got anything specific in mind?”
“Nope. I don’t have any DVDs so we just have to rely on good old channel-flipping.”
“Fair enough.”
“Good. Also, I’m starving so I really need to finish those noodles. You want some, too?” Buffy reached for the discarded take-out box, digging into the cold food again.
“I suppose you don’t have anything a little more up my alley?”
With a smug smile, the Slayer opened the fridge and produced a bag of 0 neg, tossing it to him. “You like that sweet and sour?”
“Are you the perfect woman or what?”
*
For some unknown reason the cable channel had decided to declare that day “Vampire Day”. It was hardly a coincidence that right when Buffy was flipping through the channels, they were showing “Wes Craven’s Dracula”.
Spike tried to convince her that it was not exactly the type of movie to watch on their probable last day. But to no avail. With her Chinese take-out boxes, she had settled on the couch next to him, snuggling up against his body as he sipped from his mug.
As was his nature, Spike complained about each and every thing. It took all of Buffy’s charms to shut him up for more than five minutes.
“That priest guy looks an awful lot like Caleb, don’t you think?” he said at one point half-way through the movie.
“Maybe he was an actor before he decided to become a people slaying real-life priest.” Buffy now lay sprawled over Spike’s stomach, her head resting atop her hands on his chest.
“What a career.”
“Yeah.” She remained quiet for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When you died… what was it like? I mean… were you…,” her words trailed off mid-sentence.
“In heaven?” he finished for her. “No. Not exactly the place to go for a guy like me.” He hesitated before continuing, “I don’t know exactly. I didn’t really… experience it. One moment I’m the human torch at the Hellmouth, next thing I know I’m sticking out of a table at Angel’s office in LA.” Again, he stopped for a moment. “After that though… when I was still a ghost I was… slipping. And that place was… only pain. And darkness. Nothing else. And it was clawing at me.”
“Was it hell?”
“I guess. At least that’s what I think hell’d be like. I know that I won’t go to heaven any time soon but when I kick it this time, I really don’t want to go to that place.”
Buffy looked at him. “One more reason not to kick it then.”
“One on a very long list.”
***
let the saxophone play us till the chorus of dawn
and all I need is a little oblivion, you don't need protection’
- “angel of mercy” by dire straits
Buffy and Willow had tried to come up with a cunning plan to not only get rid of the Fates but also to not get the Slayer or Spike killed in the process.
The witch had whipped up a blue print of the old factory, and Buffy had showed her where the Secte had kept the Fates hidden for the time being.
That place was a maze. If they were to encounter them there again, they would need more than a half dozen Slayers. They would have to get the big guns, literally and figuratively.
And of course, they had talked about Buffy making up with Spike (though she had left out all the juicy details), and their possible, impeding death.
As it was Willow’s nature, she had nothing but reassuring words for her friend. She knew that painting it all pink and shiny wouldn’t help much but telling Buffy not to lose hope was the best she could do right now.
*
Now, Buffy stood in her kitchen, examining the content of a few Chinese take-out boxes. Chicken Lo Mein, egg rolls with indefinable content, and most of the fried noodles she had ordered. Those seemed to be the most edible, and her stomach was already letting itself be known.
With her fingers, she dug into the box, producing a small bundle of noodles. She let it curl into her mouth, munched on it, and licked her fingers.
“You know that looks really sexy.” Spike stood in the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Buffy could swear that she saw a little smoke curl around his shoulders. Of course, she hadn’t closed the blinds in the living-room.
She smiled around another noodle-knot. “Really?”
“Yeah, makes me think of all the other things you can do with that tongue of yours.” He shot her a naughty smirk, one eyebrow raised.
“You’re a pig,” she replied with her mouth full.
“Weren’t you told not to speak with a full mouth?” Slowly, he sauntered over to her, on the prowl.
“Usually,” she put the box down on the counter, matching his smirk. “You didn’t mind all that much.”
Buffy let out a surprised yelp when Spike grabbed her by her arms, pulling her against him. Before she could say anything, his mouth was covering hers, kissing her with heated passion.
“Are you drunk? You taste like scotch,” she managed when she pulled back for air.
“Had a drink, yeah. And I talked to Andrew.”
“You talked to Andrew, and now you’re horny?”
“Ruin the mood, why don’t you.” He gave her an annoyed glare.
“Sorry,” she lowered her eyes sheepishly. “You can still ravage me, if you want.”
“Yes, please.” The gentle kindness of his eyes betrayed Spike’s words. His eyelids flickered shut when Buffy’s hand cupped the front of his pants, making him suck in a breath.
He pushed into her touch, capturing her mouth again. Scooping her up with one arm around her waist, he unceremoniously plopped her down on the counter.
What followed had been a frantic routine ten years ago. Tugging on clothes, seeking skin wherever possible. Hushed names, whispered pleas.
It was quick but not as rough as they had once been used to. A quick release of tension, the pressure of the things to come lifted off their shoulders for a brief moment.
Buffy clung to his shoulders, her fingers digging gently into his flesh. She had the face buried against his the crook of his neck, breathing against his skin, as he moved inside her.
Release came quickly for both of them. They stayed in their position for a long while, Buffy’s hips slowly circling against his, drawing out every last shudder of pleasure.
Slowly, they disengaged, straightening their clothes. Spike brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.
“Whatever happens when we go against the Fates,” he said, his voice serious, “I want you to know that I’ll do anything I can to protect you.”
Buffy immediately sobered, the afterglow evaporating in an instant. “So you want to sacrifice yourself?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ll just make sure that nothing happens to you.”
“So you do want to sacrifice yourself.” Anger flared up in her voice. “That’s not going to happen.”
“What? You want to do it?” He towered over her, his eyes shining crystal blue. “No way in bloody hell.”
For a long moment, Buffy met his furious gaze.
And then she broke out into a fit of giggles. In fact, it was a full-fledged laughter. She had to brace herself against his chest to keep from stumbling forward. Tears started to roll down her cheeks.
“What? What’s so fucking funny?” Spike was more irritated than angry.
It took Buffy a while before she had calmed down again. “It’s just…,” she wiped a few stray tears away. “It’s just that… we just had this incredibly hot sex and now we’re arguing on who gets to die first. And that’s just… pretty hilarious.” Again, she burst into laughter. This time, Spike joined her.
“I just couldn’t stand to see you die, okay? Not again,” he said when the hysteria had worn off again.
“Same here.” She lightly ran a hand over his cheek. “We have to figure this out. I can’t lose you again.”
“You won’t.” He pressed a hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Not if I can help it.”
Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. Her hands ran lazy patterns over his back, tracing his muscles underneath his shirt. For a brief moment she wished she would hear his heart beating inside his chest. She had never wished for that before, had always taken his silent presence more or less for granted. But in those few seconds, she wanted nothing more than to be normal, not to be a Slayer who was in love with yet another vampire. It was just plain wrong, everything about it.
It was the ultimate cosmic joke of the Powers that Be.
“What’s going to happen now?” Spike broke the silence after a while.
“We’re going to leave at nightfall,” she murmured against his chest.
“Very considerate.”
“Willow is going to fill the girls in. She will stay here to prepare everything for the banning ritual. As soon as we get a hold of the stone tablet, we’re going to rush it to her.”
“Why isn’t she coming along? Can’t she do her mojo then and there?”
“It has to be done on consecrated ground. We had the building blessed when we moved in.”
“That’s why what we just did felt so naughty.”
“No, that’s your soul, honey.” She patted him on the butt, peering up at him with a cheeky smile.
“Could you please not call me honey? I fell downgraded enough already.” A mixture of a smile and sincerity crossed his features.
“You don’t have any reason to, loverboy.” Buffy stood in tiptoes and gave him a peck on the nose.
“If we survive this,” Spike’s hands closed around her arms in mock fury, “I will make you pay for that, Slayer.”
“God, I hope so.” A beat passed before she spoke again. “I missed you. Everything about you.”
He looked at her for a moment; the shadow of painful memories clouded his face. “Everything? Even the bad stuff?”
A hundred and twenty years as a vampire but in moments like this, he was that man again. That short-sighted lovefool.
“Yes, even that.” She took his hands in hers, brushing her thumbs over their backs. “I know that you don’t want to hear this but… you didn’t hurt me back then. Not more than I hurt myself. I need you to know that.”
He drew in a shaky breath, and lowered his gaze from hers. Slowly, he nodded weakly. “Thank you.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper.
Once again, Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug.
She had been right. He hadn’t wanted to hear it but they both knew that they needed that kind of closure. Back in Sunnydale, they had never talked about it, had treated it with an awkward but silent understanding. But now things had changed.
Each of them might die in a matter of hours. They had to make the best of the time they had left. Even if that meant digging up those ugly stories. It was part of their history.
“You want to watch a movie?” Buffy asked after a while, and totally out of the blue.
Spike took half a step back, pulling out of her embrace. “What?”
“Sorry, I just thought… there isn’t much we can do before the fight. And we shouldn’t… well, exhaust ourselves, so… I thought we could watch a movie.”
“Yeah, we could do that.” He smiled at her, giving her a peck on the forehead. “You got anything specific in mind?”
“Nope. I don’t have any DVDs so we just have to rely on good old channel-flipping.”
“Fair enough.”
“Good. Also, I’m starving so I really need to finish those noodles. You want some, too?” Buffy reached for the discarded take-out box, digging into the cold food again.
“I suppose you don’t have anything a little more up my alley?”
With a smug smile, the Slayer opened the fridge and produced a bag of 0 neg, tossing it to him. “You like that sweet and sour?”
“Are you the perfect woman or what?”
*
For some unknown reason the cable channel had decided to declare that day “Vampire Day”. It was hardly a coincidence that right when Buffy was flipping through the channels, they were showing “Wes Craven’s Dracula”.
Spike tried to convince her that it was not exactly the type of movie to watch on their probable last day. But to no avail. With her Chinese take-out boxes, she had settled on the couch next to him, snuggling up against his body as he sipped from his mug.
As was his nature, Spike complained about each and every thing. It took all of Buffy’s charms to shut him up for more than five minutes.
“That priest guy looks an awful lot like Caleb, don’t you think?” he said at one point half-way through the movie.
“Maybe he was an actor before he decided to become a people slaying real-life priest.” Buffy now lay sprawled over Spike’s stomach, her head resting atop her hands on his chest.
“What a career.”
“Yeah.” She remained quiet for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When you died… what was it like? I mean… were you…,” her words trailed off mid-sentence.
“In heaven?” he finished for her. “No. Not exactly the place to go for a guy like me.” He hesitated before continuing, “I don’t know exactly. I didn’t really… experience it. One moment I’m the human torch at the Hellmouth, next thing I know I’m sticking out of a table at Angel’s office in LA.” Again, he stopped for a moment. “After that though… when I was still a ghost I was… slipping. And that place was… only pain. And darkness. Nothing else. And it was clawing at me.”
“Was it hell?”
“I guess. At least that’s what I think hell’d be like. I know that I won’t go to heaven any time soon but when I kick it this time, I really don’t want to go to that place.”
Buffy looked at him. “One more reason not to kick it then.”
“One on a very long list.”
***
Chapter 19
Chapter 19
’every single time I roll across the rolling River Tyne
i get the same old feeling
every time I'm moving down the line’
- “southbound again” by dire straits
Night came quicker than either Buffy or Spike had expected.
They had spent the rest of the day watching TV, chatting about this and that, making out a bit. Anything not too hurried. Anything that would keep their minds off the things to come.
Willow had sent Cecilia to go and get them. Once more, the poor girl had blushed wildly when she’d seen Spike.
“So it’s about time, huh?” Buffy rose from the couch, brushing her slightly mussed hair down.
“Yeah.” Spike sat up, running a hand over his face.
“I need to change into my party clothes. I guess there is some stuff you need to get, right?” She shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other, stuffing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
“You want to get rid of me? If so, just say so.” A spark of anger flared up in his voice.
“No, that’s not it. I just… I’d to be alone for a couple of minutes, clear my head.”
Spike looked up at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you downstairs, then.” He rose, cupped her face with one hand and gave her a long, sweet kiss. Without another word, he left her apartment.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, tears were rolling down Buffy’s cheeks. Tears that she had been fighting to hold back for the last couple of minutes.
Of course, he would understand why she was crying but she still didn’t want him to see. They both needed to be strong now, needed to focus on the threat instead of each other. But Buffy couldn’t help it. For ten years, she had waited for him to come back or for some other guy to sweep her off her feet (as unlikely as it had been). And now that he had finally returned to her…
She had every reason to cry.
*
Spike let the door click shut behind him before he leaned against it. He could hear her silent sobbing on the other side, and for a brief second, tears stung his own eyes.
He bit them back. Someone (most likely that girl Cecilia) might come by and the last thing he needed now was someone to call him a sissy.
She had every reason to cry. As did he.
No matter how hard he tried to convince himself not to give up hope, the notion that his or her death was all too present, was a constant reminder in the back of his brain.
He had done everything to protect her from harm now, in the end, there was nothing he could do. Someone would come up with something that would squash his good intentions like a fly.
So yeah, he had every reason to cry.
***
A group of almost two dozen Slayers had gathered in the parking garage, some of them hardly old enough to go into battle.
Willow had already sent off another dozen to check out the scene before they moved in; the other Slayers--except for a handful--ordered to form a ring around the Secte’s building to contain anything that came out, human or otherwise. Those remaining would move in with Buffy and Spike.
The Slayer wore what looked like black military gear: cargo pants and a tank top. She had a heavy-duty weapons belt around her slender waist, a crossbow slung across her back. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore a little make-up around her eyes. When she gave last instruction to the team, her voice was tight, clipped.
The girls spread to the vans, tires screeching as they left the parking garage. For a moment, Buffy just stood there in the almost empty garage, hands on her hips, her head bowed.
Spike watched her in silence from his spot by the stairs. She had her back turned to him so he wouldn’t see her tears but he could hear her uneven breaths all too clearly.
Slowly, he stepped up to her, and laid his hands on her shaking shoulders. He didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to.
“I never cried when I was younger, you know,” Buffy said after a while. “I even thought I was turning to stone after my mom died. I’m the oldest Slayer ever, and the older I get, the mushier I become.”
“That’s because these girls have become family to you, whether you like it or not.” Spike’s voice was calm, reassuring. “Let me tell you a secret. You might think that I’m the Big Bad, the worst menace you’ve ever had to face but… I’m… mushy, too. When I was still human, I cried all the time… And even after that.” After a fraction of a second, he added, “Sometimes.”
Buffy chuckled quietly. “You’re just making that up to make me feel better.”
“Yeah… You’re of no use if you turn all menopausal on me now.”
“Hey, I said I’m the oldest Slayer but I’m not that old.”
“If you were, I’d have to trade you in for another Slayer. Cecilia gets dibs.”
The Slayer turned and gave him a playful slap on the arm. “That’s how much you love me?”
“You have no idea.” He planted a hard kiss on her lips, leaving her breathless. “Wanna hunt some hell bitches now?”
“Let’s get it on.”
***
As soon as Spike killed the engine of his bike on the street across from the factory, the communication device in Buffy’s ear cracked to life.
“Slayer 17 for Slayer 1, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Jenna,” Buffy replied. “What’s going on? Where are you?”
“Turn around and look up.” Buffy did, and a gloved hand appeared on the roof of one of the buildings, waving. “Hey there.”
“What’s up?”
“The factory is empty; the birds have left the nest.”
“What? And you couldn’t have told us sooner?”
“Didn’t know where they went. Now I do.”
“Where are they?” Buffy asked all but impatiently.
“Come up here and see for yourself.”
*
It took them almost ten minutes to get onto the roof. The emergency ladder was completely rusted, and they had to take a detour over the adjacent building.
“What took you so long?”
Jenna was tall woman with broad shoulders but as she lay on her stomach on the roof, her body radiated a professional kind of grace. Her voice, though, sounded as if she was used to smoking a pack a day.
“We’re not a trained Navy Seal, Jenna,” Buffy replied a little disgruntled.
“Yeah, yeah. Now get down. You’re a big honking target.”
Buffy and Spike joined the young woman on the roof.
“Navy Seal, huh?” Spike asked with an approving nod.
Jenna shot him a pearly white grin. “Yeah. I got skills, baby.”
Spike looked from her to Buffy. “If you hit menopause, I take her.”
“Like hell you’ll whore around the house.”
“Can you have your quarrels later and preferably somewhere else? I thought we were on a secret mission.” Jenna interjected, a little annoyed now.
“We don’t have a ‘later’. Now, where did they go?”
Jenna pointed over the rim of the roof into the night.
“I don’t see anything.”
She pushed a pair of binoculars into the other Slayer’s hands.
“They are on the roof,” Spike said, peering out into the dark. “Not on the factory, but a couple of blocks down.”
“You’ve got some skills, too.” Again, Jenna grinned at the vampire.
“You heard the missus. I’m not allowed to whore around.”
“I’d whore around with both of you,” she shrugged nonchalantly. When she saw the couple’s startled expressions, she added quickly. “Anyway… there are about half a dozen of these Secte guys and three really hot ladies. They carried some kind of stand with them but I couldn’t make it out what it is.”
“The stone tablet,” Buffy’s voice was now void of any humorous quips, “They have it with them.”
“Two birds, one stone, then,” Spike said almost reluctantly.
They both knew that everything stood and fell with that stone tablet. If they couldn’t get it into their hands, if they didn’t get it to Willow in time, everything would be lost. One of them would be lost.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Even more reluctantly, Buffy rose, busying herself with brushing dirt off her clothes.
“You’ll make it,” Jenna reassured them but remained seated.
“You’re not coming with us?” Spike asked curiously, fumbling his own communication device from one of his pockets, clipping on the earpiece.
As an answer, Jenna pulled up the left leg of her pants, revealing part of a prosthetic leg. “I’m only an observer,” she replied as though it meant nothing. “I’ll keep Willow and the others posted.”
“Thanks, Jenna.” Buffy smiled at her, then nodded at the vampire, letting him know that she was ready. “Hope to see you later.”
“Same here.” The other Slayer gave them a casual salute, before returning to her prior position.
*
In an almost Spiderman sort of way, the couple made their way over the roofs, taking the direct route instead of the meandering streets. They both could hear Jenna instructing the others where to go, some of them responded with their current positions.
Only one small alley separated Buffy and Spike from the other building.
Six members of the Secte Noir had gathered around a bronze stand that held the infamous stone tablet, forming a loose circle. The Fates were in their middle, apparently holding hands. A small black cloud twirled and twisted over the tablet, blue-white static crackling in it.
“I feel very Shakespearian right now.”
“Why’s that?” Buffy asked, her brows furrowed.
Spike eyed her in disbelief. “Three witches? Macbeth? Ring a bell?”
The Slayer shrugged apologetically. “I’ve never been good with books.”
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but remained silent.
“You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” One last time, Spike checked his attire, his vest, his weapons.
Buffy was the first to leap over the gap between the buildings. As soon as her feet touched the other roof, the fight was on.
***
i get the same old feeling
every time I'm moving down the line’
- “southbound again” by dire straits
Night came quicker than either Buffy or Spike had expected.
They had spent the rest of the day watching TV, chatting about this and that, making out a bit. Anything not too hurried. Anything that would keep their minds off the things to come.
Willow had sent Cecilia to go and get them. Once more, the poor girl had blushed wildly when she’d seen Spike.
“So it’s about time, huh?” Buffy rose from the couch, brushing her slightly mussed hair down.
“Yeah.” Spike sat up, running a hand over his face.
“I need to change into my party clothes. I guess there is some stuff you need to get, right?” She shifted awkwardly from one leg to the other, stuffing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
“You want to get rid of me? If so, just say so.” A spark of anger flared up in his voice.
“No, that’s not it. I just… I’d to be alone for a couple of minutes, clear my head.”
Spike looked up at her for a long moment, then nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you downstairs, then.” He rose, cupped her face with one hand and gave her a long, sweet kiss. Without another word, he left her apartment.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, tears were rolling down Buffy’s cheeks. Tears that she had been fighting to hold back for the last couple of minutes.
Of course, he would understand why she was crying but she still didn’t want him to see. They both needed to be strong now, needed to focus on the threat instead of each other. But Buffy couldn’t help it. For ten years, she had waited for him to come back or for some other guy to sweep her off her feet (as unlikely as it had been). And now that he had finally returned to her…
She had every reason to cry.
*
Spike let the door click shut behind him before he leaned against it. He could hear her silent sobbing on the other side, and for a brief second, tears stung his own eyes.
He bit them back. Someone (most likely that girl Cecilia) might come by and the last thing he needed now was someone to call him a sissy.
She had every reason to cry. As did he.
No matter how hard he tried to convince himself not to give up hope, the notion that his or her death was all too present, was a constant reminder in the back of his brain.
He had done everything to protect her from harm now, in the end, there was nothing he could do. Someone would come up with something that would squash his good intentions like a fly.
So yeah, he had every reason to cry.
***
A group of almost two dozen Slayers had gathered in the parking garage, some of them hardly old enough to go into battle.
Willow had already sent off another dozen to check out the scene before they moved in; the other Slayers--except for a handful--ordered to form a ring around the Secte’s building to contain anything that came out, human or otherwise. Those remaining would move in with Buffy and Spike.
The Slayer wore what looked like black military gear: cargo pants and a tank top. She had a heavy-duty weapons belt around her slender waist, a crossbow slung across her back. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore a little make-up around her eyes. When she gave last instruction to the team, her voice was tight, clipped.
The girls spread to the vans, tires screeching as they left the parking garage. For a moment, Buffy just stood there in the almost empty garage, hands on her hips, her head bowed.
Spike watched her in silence from his spot by the stairs. She had her back turned to him so he wouldn’t see her tears but he could hear her uneven breaths all too clearly.
Slowly, he stepped up to her, and laid his hands on her shaking shoulders. He didn’t say anything, and didn’t need to.
“I never cried when I was younger, you know,” Buffy said after a while. “I even thought I was turning to stone after my mom died. I’m the oldest Slayer ever, and the older I get, the mushier I become.”
“That’s because these girls have become family to you, whether you like it or not.” Spike’s voice was calm, reassuring. “Let me tell you a secret. You might think that I’m the Big Bad, the worst menace you’ve ever had to face but… I’m… mushy, too. When I was still human, I cried all the time… And even after that.” After a fraction of a second, he added, “Sometimes.”
Buffy chuckled quietly. “You’re just making that up to make me feel better.”
“Yeah… You’re of no use if you turn all menopausal on me now.”
“Hey, I said I’m the oldest Slayer but I’m not that old.”
“If you were, I’d have to trade you in for another Slayer. Cecilia gets dibs.”
The Slayer turned and gave him a playful slap on the arm. “That’s how much you love me?”
“You have no idea.” He planted a hard kiss on her lips, leaving her breathless. “Wanna hunt some hell bitches now?”
“Let’s get it on.”
***
As soon as Spike killed the engine of his bike on the street across from the factory, the communication device in Buffy’s ear cracked to life.
“Slayer 17 for Slayer 1, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Jenna,” Buffy replied. “What’s going on? Where are you?”
“Turn around and look up.” Buffy did, and a gloved hand appeared on the roof of one of the buildings, waving. “Hey there.”
“What’s up?”
“The factory is empty; the birds have left the nest.”
“What? And you couldn’t have told us sooner?”
“Didn’t know where they went. Now I do.”
“Where are they?” Buffy asked all but impatiently.
“Come up here and see for yourself.”
*
It took them almost ten minutes to get onto the roof. The emergency ladder was completely rusted, and they had to take a detour over the adjacent building.
“What took you so long?”
Jenna was tall woman with broad shoulders but as she lay on her stomach on the roof, her body radiated a professional kind of grace. Her voice, though, sounded as if she was used to smoking a pack a day.
“We’re not a trained Navy Seal, Jenna,” Buffy replied a little disgruntled.
“Yeah, yeah. Now get down. You’re a big honking target.”
Buffy and Spike joined the young woman on the roof.
“Navy Seal, huh?” Spike asked with an approving nod.
Jenna shot him a pearly white grin. “Yeah. I got skills, baby.”
Spike looked from her to Buffy. “If you hit menopause, I take her.”
“Like hell you’ll whore around the house.”
“Can you have your quarrels later and preferably somewhere else? I thought we were on a secret mission.” Jenna interjected, a little annoyed now.
“We don’t have a ‘later’. Now, where did they go?”
Jenna pointed over the rim of the roof into the night.
“I don’t see anything.”
She pushed a pair of binoculars into the other Slayer’s hands.
“They are on the roof,” Spike said, peering out into the dark. “Not on the factory, but a couple of blocks down.”
“You’ve got some skills, too.” Again, Jenna grinned at the vampire.
“You heard the missus. I’m not allowed to whore around.”
“I’d whore around with both of you,” she shrugged nonchalantly. When she saw the couple’s startled expressions, she added quickly. “Anyway… there are about half a dozen of these Secte guys and three really hot ladies. They carried some kind of stand with them but I couldn’t make it out what it is.”
“The stone tablet,” Buffy’s voice was now void of any humorous quips, “They have it with them.”
“Two birds, one stone, then,” Spike said almost reluctantly.
They both knew that everything stood and fell with that stone tablet. If they couldn’t get it into their hands, if they didn’t get it to Willow in time, everything would be lost. One of them would be lost.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Even more reluctantly, Buffy rose, busying herself with brushing dirt off her clothes.
“You’ll make it,” Jenna reassured them but remained seated.
“You’re not coming with us?” Spike asked curiously, fumbling his own communication device from one of his pockets, clipping on the earpiece.
As an answer, Jenna pulled up the left leg of her pants, revealing part of a prosthetic leg. “I’m only an observer,” she replied as though it meant nothing. “I’ll keep Willow and the others posted.”
“Thanks, Jenna.” Buffy smiled at her, then nodded at the vampire, letting him know that she was ready. “Hope to see you later.”
“Same here.” The other Slayer gave them a casual salute, before returning to her prior position.
*
In an almost Spiderman sort of way, the couple made their way over the roofs, taking the direct route instead of the meandering streets. They both could hear Jenna instructing the others where to go, some of them responded with their current positions.
Only one small alley separated Buffy and Spike from the other building.
Six members of the Secte Noir had gathered around a bronze stand that held the infamous stone tablet, forming a loose circle. The Fates were in their middle, apparently holding hands. A small black cloud twirled and twisted over the tablet, blue-white static crackling in it.
“I feel very Shakespearian right now.”
“Why’s that?” Buffy asked, her brows furrowed.
Spike eyed her in disbelief. “Three witches? Macbeth? Ring a bell?”
The Slayer shrugged apologetically. “I’ve never been good with books.”
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but remained silent.
“You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” One last time, Spike checked his attire, his vest, his weapons.
Buffy was the first to leap over the gap between the buildings. As soon as her feet touched the other roof, the fight was on.
***
Chapter 20
Chapter 20
’even the hero gets a bullet in the chest
oh yeah, once upon a time in the west’
- “once upon a time in the west” by dire straits
When your life is in mortal peril, you tend to forget things. Some of them are of minor importance like grocery lists or if you’ve left the stove on. But some of the things you forget are those that might eventually get you killed.
Buffy landed in a roll on the other roof but she had completely forgotten about the vampires (except maybe one or two) and that screeching creature they had met a few nights ago.
When the Slayer came to her feet again, she was attacked from one side and almost tackled to the floor. The air was knocked out of her lungs when strong arms closed around her body.
The tall vampire snarled right into her ear, the sound deafening her for a moment. Then she stumbled into a roll, taking him with her to the ground. During the fall, she produced a stake from her belt. Her opponent tried to slap her arm away but she had already regained her composure again, blocking the attack.
She had just plunged the stake through the vampire’s heart when a second one came at her. If it hadn’t been for Spike who leapt over the gap between the buildings, the vampire would have jumped right on her back.
He drove Buffy’s attacker to the ground, leaving a slight dent in the concrete. As Spike rolled off him, he pulled his gun from the holster, aimed at the vampire’s chest and pulled the trigger. He only needed that one shot to make the vampire explode into a cloud of dust.
“About time.” Buffy shot him angry glare when they took up their fighting position.
On the other side of the roof, three more vampires emerged from the shadows, ready to attack. For a moment, it seemed as though the members of the Secte and the Fates weren’t even paying attention to them. They still stood around the bronze stand that held the stone tablet, their hands half raised, murmuring some garbled words neither Buffy nor Spike could understand.
“They are here, the Slayer and her vampire. They want to destroy us.”
As if on a silent command, the circle broke apart, the robed people (they couldn’t make out whether they were men or women or both) gave way to the Fates. Once again, time seemed to slow down around them. Blue-white static crackled around their hands, the little cloud above the stone tabled never stopped swirling.
“Damn right, we will,” Buffy snarled.
“There are three teams closing in on your position,” came Jenna’s voice through the intercom. “The rest will be there any minute, too.”
“Do you think, your friends will come to save you?” Atropos, the redheaded Fate, asked, a smug smile tugging at her lovely lips. “They won’t be here in time.”
“And how would you know?”
The three women laughed, their voices mingling into a rich, velvety chorus. “Because you will be already dead,” Atropos added, chuckling softly.
“God, are you guys ever getting tired of the tacky speeches? ‘Cause it’s getting really annoying to hear it over and over again.” Buffy propped her hands on her hips, obviously trying to buy some time. They could probably take the vampires but they wouldn’t be able to take those, the Secte folk and Fates. And that wasn’t even taking into account getting the stone tablet. Right now, it was a lose-lose situation.
From the corner of her eye, Buffy saw another trio of vampires appear on the roof, surrounding them. If she had turned around, she would have seen even more of the undead on the adjacent buildings.
Suddenly, a whiplash cracked through the night. The braided leather cord wrapped around one of the vampire’s necks and he was pulled into the darkness.
A triumphant little grin appeared on Buffy’s lips. “Hey Katie,” she called into the general direction.
From the dark appeared a duo of Slayers, one of them was just tucking a whip into a loop on her belt. Her dark hair hung in two long braids down her slender shoulders.
“Heya Buffy,” she nodded once, the girl next to her doing the same. The second girl seemed to be of Asian decent but Buffy knew that Nya was originally from Hawaii and tired of explaining the difference.
“Who’s that? Indiana Jones junior?” Spike growled impatiently, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Shut up and be happy about the back up,” Buffy ordered with a sideways glance.
“You are boring us, Slayers,” Clotho said now, her blonde curls swaying in the slight breeze. “You and your army of girls.”
“Once, we let you go.” Lachesis stepped in line with her two girlfriends.
“This time you will die.” A languid smile spread on Atropos’ lips.
“If I had a penny,” Buffy all but sing-songed. In a blur of motion, she reached for another stake she had tucked into her belt, turned and flung it at the vampire at her back. He didn’t have a chance.
The moment, the wind picked up the vampire’s ashes, the fight was on.
“Kill the vamps, spare the humans. And kick the asses of these bitches,” Buffy commanded, producing another stake.
Apart from Katie and Nya, two more Slayer duos appeared just as Jenna had told them. For a moment, it seemed as though they had at least outnumbered the vampires but with every Slayer’s appearance, another undead emerged from the dark.
“Not to spoil the mood, luv, but we’re going to need more back up,” Spike called out to her just as he emptied half of his clip into two attacking vampires.
Buffy was busy fighting off her own attacker. Although the guy wasn’t half as bulky as the previous one was, he was all wiry muscle and stubbornness. She delivered half a dozen hard jabs at his chest and face, kicking at him for all she was worth until he finally went down. She dove down to him, plunging the stake through his heart. When she came up again, she hadn’t seen the vampire that had crept up on her from behind.
“Buffy, duck,” Spike yelled at her, raising his weapon.
“What?” The Slayer asked a little confused. When she saw him peering down the barrel of his gun, she dropped to her knees. Spike’s weapon barked once and ash rained down on her. “We definitely need to work on another codeword,” she grumbled when she got up.
“This time, I’m not insane. Should’ve wo…” Before he could finish, something smashed into Spike’s back. He was driven to the ground, his face scraping over the gravel.
“You’re one of us,” a throaty voice growled into his ear, his attacker jerked on his vest, cutting off his unneeded air.
“No, I’m hers.” The demon inside Spike rose to the surface as he pushed himself to his hands and knees, the other vampire still clinging to him. With a ferocious growl, Spike flung himself to one side, rolling halfway over his opponent. If he hadn’t seen Buffy in his peripheral vision, he would be dead now. As the Slayer lurched down on him, he pushed off the ground with one foot, propelling himself onto his stomach again.
The weight of the other vampire was lifted off him when Buffy drove the stake through its heart.
“That was awfully close,” Spike growled with a slight touch of relief.
“Sorry,” Buffy smiled apologetically.
A beat passed where neither of them moved. “Eh, luv, you’re straddling my legs. Not that I’d mind generally but…”
Buffy hopped to her feet, then pulled him up as well. “We need to get to the Fates, the vampires are just roadkill.”
“Oh, I feel so loved now.”
They didn’t have time to finish the conversation. Now the members of the Secte were throwing themselves into the mix. They didn’t have much of a fighting chance. As far as Buffy and Spike knew, they were mostly human. And even though they were determined enough, the Slayers overruled them quickly.
Just as Buffy thought they were gaining the upper hand, even more vampires appeared. And with them, half a dozen of the screeching guard-dog creatures.
One by one, the Slayer teams appeared but it seemed that with every Slayer another opponent showed up. Only very slowly, were Buffy and Spike able to fight their way to the inner circle.
Up until now, The Fates hadn’t participated in the fight. They still stood around the stone tablet, the black cloud above it growing steadily.
“They’re channeling their forces,” Spike had to yell over the ruckus of the fight.
“Figured that,” Buffy yelled back as she warded off another vampire. “We need to get that freaking stone.”
“We won’t let you have it,” Atropos appeared in her field of vision. She was hardly an inch taller than the Slayer but stared down at her with unhidden arrogance.
“If I say pretty please?” Buffy lunged at her but the Fate blocked the attack. In fact, she blocked every combination the Slayer tried but she never launched an attack herself. “What? You’re just going to stand there?” Buffy panted a little out of breath.
In a blur of motion, Atropos lurched forward, her hand closing around the Slayer’s throat. “You dare challenge us, mortal? We are older than time? We rule over life. We can snap your threat in a heartbeat.”
As Buffy’s vision started to blur, she croaked. “Then why don’t you?” She reached out and pulled hard at the redhead’s hair. The Fate screamed in agony, letting go of her throat. “I have a baby sister. I rule at catfights.”
When Buffy turned to Spike, she found him entangled with Lachesis and Clotho. They had pulled him to the ground; Lachesis sat astride him while Clotho held down his shoulders. They seemed to hold him with ease, almost entirely effortlessly. Spike didn’t seem to mind all that much, though. It was hard to tell if he was actually fighting back or writhing in pleasure.
“Spike, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be kicking ass not getting off. I’m the one, remember?”
The vampire struggled visibly to focus on Buffy. “Trying, luv,” he managed, his vampiric features clouded with desire.
Spurred by a surge of jealousy, Buffy stalked over to him, her hand closing around Lachesis’s arm.
“Get your hands off my man, bitch,” she snarled, and hauled the Fate off him.
The three women laughed their rich, velvety laugh. “This isn’t about you, Slayer.” Clotho ran her hands over Spike’s shoulders. His head rolled back with a lust filled moan. For a second Buffy thought she could see his cargo pants tighten in all the right places.
“You’ve got to be…” She never got to finish the sentence. The Fates attacked her at once.
It had been a long time since someone had beaten her up like this. Most of the time, she fought one attacker after the other, even if they were attacking in packs. But these three hell bitches moved as one, perfectly in synch. It wasn’t just a hit here or a kick there. It was three hits and three kicks, at the same time and perfectly painful.
Pain started to blur her vision. She didn’t even have the time to wonder why Spike still wasn’t helping her. The Fates had almost beaten her unconscious, when a hand closed around her ankle in a vice-like grip. She was hauled into the air, and crashed into the bronze stand.
Buffy let out a howl of pain when one of the metal rods almost pierced her back. She looked around her in horror.
The stone tablet had shattered to pieces.
***
oh yeah, once upon a time in the west’
- “once upon a time in the west” by dire straits
When your life is in mortal peril, you tend to forget things. Some of them are of minor importance like grocery lists or if you’ve left the stove on. But some of the things you forget are those that might eventually get you killed.
Buffy landed in a roll on the other roof but she had completely forgotten about the vampires (except maybe one or two) and that screeching creature they had met a few nights ago.
When the Slayer came to her feet again, she was attacked from one side and almost tackled to the floor. The air was knocked out of her lungs when strong arms closed around her body.
The tall vampire snarled right into her ear, the sound deafening her for a moment. Then she stumbled into a roll, taking him with her to the ground. During the fall, she produced a stake from her belt. Her opponent tried to slap her arm away but she had already regained her composure again, blocking the attack.
She had just plunged the stake through the vampire’s heart when a second one came at her. If it hadn’t been for Spike who leapt over the gap between the buildings, the vampire would have jumped right on her back.
He drove Buffy’s attacker to the ground, leaving a slight dent in the concrete. As Spike rolled off him, he pulled his gun from the holster, aimed at the vampire’s chest and pulled the trigger. He only needed that one shot to make the vampire explode into a cloud of dust.
“About time.” Buffy shot him angry glare when they took up their fighting position.
On the other side of the roof, three more vampires emerged from the shadows, ready to attack. For a moment, it seemed as though the members of the Secte and the Fates weren’t even paying attention to them. They still stood around the bronze stand that held the stone tablet, their hands half raised, murmuring some garbled words neither Buffy nor Spike could understand.
“They are here, the Slayer and her vampire. They want to destroy us.”
As if on a silent command, the circle broke apart, the robed people (they couldn’t make out whether they were men or women or both) gave way to the Fates. Once again, time seemed to slow down around them. Blue-white static crackled around their hands, the little cloud above the stone tabled never stopped swirling.
“Damn right, we will,” Buffy snarled.
“There are three teams closing in on your position,” came Jenna’s voice through the intercom. “The rest will be there any minute, too.”
“Do you think, your friends will come to save you?” Atropos, the redheaded Fate, asked, a smug smile tugging at her lovely lips. “They won’t be here in time.”
“And how would you know?”
The three women laughed, their voices mingling into a rich, velvety chorus. “Because you will be already dead,” Atropos added, chuckling softly.
“God, are you guys ever getting tired of the tacky speeches? ‘Cause it’s getting really annoying to hear it over and over again.” Buffy propped her hands on her hips, obviously trying to buy some time. They could probably take the vampires but they wouldn’t be able to take those, the Secte folk and Fates. And that wasn’t even taking into account getting the stone tablet. Right now, it was a lose-lose situation.
From the corner of her eye, Buffy saw another trio of vampires appear on the roof, surrounding them. If she had turned around, she would have seen even more of the undead on the adjacent buildings.
Suddenly, a whiplash cracked through the night. The braided leather cord wrapped around one of the vampire’s necks and he was pulled into the darkness.
A triumphant little grin appeared on Buffy’s lips. “Hey Katie,” she called into the general direction.
From the dark appeared a duo of Slayers, one of them was just tucking a whip into a loop on her belt. Her dark hair hung in two long braids down her slender shoulders.
“Heya Buffy,” she nodded once, the girl next to her doing the same. The second girl seemed to be of Asian decent but Buffy knew that Nya was originally from Hawaii and tired of explaining the difference.
“Who’s that? Indiana Jones junior?” Spike growled impatiently, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Shut up and be happy about the back up,” Buffy ordered with a sideways glance.
“You are boring us, Slayers,” Clotho said now, her blonde curls swaying in the slight breeze. “You and your army of girls.”
“Once, we let you go.” Lachesis stepped in line with her two girlfriends.
“This time you will die.” A languid smile spread on Atropos’ lips.
“If I had a penny,” Buffy all but sing-songed. In a blur of motion, she reached for another stake she had tucked into her belt, turned and flung it at the vampire at her back. He didn’t have a chance.
The moment, the wind picked up the vampire’s ashes, the fight was on.
“Kill the vamps, spare the humans. And kick the asses of these bitches,” Buffy commanded, producing another stake.
Apart from Katie and Nya, two more Slayer duos appeared just as Jenna had told them. For a moment, it seemed as though they had at least outnumbered the vampires but with every Slayer’s appearance, another undead emerged from the dark.
“Not to spoil the mood, luv, but we’re going to need more back up,” Spike called out to her just as he emptied half of his clip into two attacking vampires.
Buffy was busy fighting off her own attacker. Although the guy wasn’t half as bulky as the previous one was, he was all wiry muscle and stubbornness. She delivered half a dozen hard jabs at his chest and face, kicking at him for all she was worth until he finally went down. She dove down to him, plunging the stake through his heart. When she came up again, she hadn’t seen the vampire that had crept up on her from behind.
“Buffy, duck,” Spike yelled at her, raising his weapon.
“What?” The Slayer asked a little confused. When she saw him peering down the barrel of his gun, she dropped to her knees. Spike’s weapon barked once and ash rained down on her. “We definitely need to work on another codeword,” she grumbled when she got up.
“This time, I’m not insane. Should’ve wo…” Before he could finish, something smashed into Spike’s back. He was driven to the ground, his face scraping over the gravel.
“You’re one of us,” a throaty voice growled into his ear, his attacker jerked on his vest, cutting off his unneeded air.
“No, I’m hers.” The demon inside Spike rose to the surface as he pushed himself to his hands and knees, the other vampire still clinging to him. With a ferocious growl, Spike flung himself to one side, rolling halfway over his opponent. If he hadn’t seen Buffy in his peripheral vision, he would be dead now. As the Slayer lurched down on him, he pushed off the ground with one foot, propelling himself onto his stomach again.
The weight of the other vampire was lifted off him when Buffy drove the stake through its heart.
“That was awfully close,” Spike growled with a slight touch of relief.
“Sorry,” Buffy smiled apologetically.
A beat passed where neither of them moved. “Eh, luv, you’re straddling my legs. Not that I’d mind generally but…”
Buffy hopped to her feet, then pulled him up as well. “We need to get to the Fates, the vampires are just roadkill.”
“Oh, I feel so loved now.”
They didn’t have time to finish the conversation. Now the members of the Secte were throwing themselves into the mix. They didn’t have much of a fighting chance. As far as Buffy and Spike knew, they were mostly human. And even though they were determined enough, the Slayers overruled them quickly.
Just as Buffy thought they were gaining the upper hand, even more vampires appeared. And with them, half a dozen of the screeching guard-dog creatures.
One by one, the Slayer teams appeared but it seemed that with every Slayer another opponent showed up. Only very slowly, were Buffy and Spike able to fight their way to the inner circle.
Up until now, The Fates hadn’t participated in the fight. They still stood around the stone tablet, the black cloud above it growing steadily.
“They’re channeling their forces,” Spike had to yell over the ruckus of the fight.
“Figured that,” Buffy yelled back as she warded off another vampire. “We need to get that freaking stone.”
“We won’t let you have it,” Atropos appeared in her field of vision. She was hardly an inch taller than the Slayer but stared down at her with unhidden arrogance.
“If I say pretty please?” Buffy lunged at her but the Fate blocked the attack. In fact, she blocked every combination the Slayer tried but she never launched an attack herself. “What? You’re just going to stand there?” Buffy panted a little out of breath.
In a blur of motion, Atropos lurched forward, her hand closing around the Slayer’s throat. “You dare challenge us, mortal? We are older than time? We rule over life. We can snap your threat in a heartbeat.”
As Buffy’s vision started to blur, she croaked. “Then why don’t you?” She reached out and pulled hard at the redhead’s hair. The Fate screamed in agony, letting go of her throat. “I have a baby sister. I rule at catfights.”
When Buffy turned to Spike, she found him entangled with Lachesis and Clotho. They had pulled him to the ground; Lachesis sat astride him while Clotho held down his shoulders. They seemed to hold him with ease, almost entirely effortlessly. Spike didn’t seem to mind all that much, though. It was hard to tell if he was actually fighting back or writhing in pleasure.
“Spike, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be kicking ass not getting off. I’m the one, remember?”
The vampire struggled visibly to focus on Buffy. “Trying, luv,” he managed, his vampiric features clouded with desire.
Spurred by a surge of jealousy, Buffy stalked over to him, her hand closing around Lachesis’s arm.
“Get your hands off my man, bitch,” she snarled, and hauled the Fate off him.
The three women laughed their rich, velvety laugh. “This isn’t about you, Slayer.” Clotho ran her hands over Spike’s shoulders. His head rolled back with a lust filled moan. For a second Buffy thought she could see his cargo pants tighten in all the right places.
“You’ve got to be…” She never got to finish the sentence. The Fates attacked her at once.
It had been a long time since someone had beaten her up like this. Most of the time, she fought one attacker after the other, even if they were attacking in packs. But these three hell bitches moved as one, perfectly in synch. It wasn’t just a hit here or a kick there. It was three hits and three kicks, at the same time and perfectly painful.
Pain started to blur her vision. She didn’t even have the time to wonder why Spike still wasn’t helping her. The Fates had almost beaten her unconscious, when a hand closed around her ankle in a vice-like grip. She was hauled into the air, and crashed into the bronze stand.
Buffy let out a howl of pain when one of the metal rods almost pierced her back. She looked around her in horror.
The stone tablet had shattered to pieces.
***
Chapter 21
Chapter 21
’run your fingers through his hair
they scratch across his back
fade to black’
- “fade to black” by dire straits
Even in the greatest turmoil, some things come to you in perfect clarity.
The inevitability of death is one of these things.
Pieces of the stone tablet lay scattered all around her as Buffy’s eyes focused on Spike.
The vampire had gathered his composure again, even his demon had retreated. He stared at Buffy in shock. They both knew what this meant.
No stone tablet, no more safety net. Their plan A had been shattered to pieces. Literally. Unfortunately, plan B would mean that one of them had to die in order to stop the Fates.
All of that came to Buffy as clear as day in a matter of seconds. The entire thought process including the not so pleasant conclusion flared up inside her brain like a big honking neon light.
“No,” she breathed but somehow she knew that Spike had heard her perfectly clearly.
Thunder roared above her. As Buffy looked up, she saw that the static cloud had grown multiple times its original size. And it kept growing. Static as bright and violent as lightning crackled through it.
Laying there on the floor, the Slayer realized that if she stayed there, the cloud would touch her in a matter of seconds. And who knew that would happen to her if it did.
She scuttled away from it, her body protesting in pain. When she looked over to Spike again, one of those screeching creatures had attacked him. Spurred by whatever fury, the vampire kept pummeling away at it, fists flying.
“You wanted to ban us, little Slayer?” Lachesis appeared at her side, squatting down next to her. “You and your little witch.”
“Shame on you, if you fool us once.” Clotho stepped through the cloud, static clinging to her body.
“Shame on us, if you fool us twice.” Atropos towered over her, propping her hands on her hips.
“You’ve really got this Charlie’s Angels thing working for you, don’t you?”
Buffy’s voice had gathered a little more strength again. Everything inside her was screaming flight while she knew that the only option was fight. Well, it wasn’t really an option rather she knew that it was the only way; and there was still no way out. For a split second, she wanted to give up, wanted to let them have her and be done with it. Some helpless, desperate part of her brain taunted her that she had nothing to fight for anyway. Her life was all about war and death, so she might just fulfill her destiny.
Buffy tried to retreat from the Fates, to get up to her feet again. She caught a glimpse of Spike who fought for his proverbial life on the other side of the cloud. For a moment, it seemed as though he was looking at her as well. There it was again, that look. His look. That one look that was only for her, that had pulled her through so many rough moments.
So, her life was all about war and death but she did have something to fight for.
Determination and resolve steeled her body, blocked the pain and tapped into the last pool of strength she had. She wouldn’t remember the almost primal scream that escaped her throat as she threw herself into battle again.
*
In his peripheral vision, Spike saw Buffy rise to her feet again. He would have helped her if he hadn’t been busy fighting the nasty creature. Like the first one they had met that night, it wore a hooded cloak that fully shrouded its head.
There was a good reason why it wore that hood. Spike had figured that out when he had torn it off the thing’s head in mid-fight.
Its head was bald, the skin pasty white. It had what looked like the compound eyes of a fly, its mouth round and lined with half a dozen rows of pointy little teeth. A foul stench emanated from it every time it lunged at Spike with one of its taloned hands.
The vampire’s sleeves were slashed and torn, and only the sturdy material of his vest kept the thing from doing any more damage. Even after firing half a clip into the thing at close range it kept going.
Spike stashed his gun, blocking a blow with his arm. The thing was damn strong. Turning around, he used its momentum to throw it over his shoulder. He stepped over the creature, jerked it up by its cloak, then wrapped his arm around its neck and twisted it until it snapped.
He had hardly time for triumph as he heard a painful scream behind him, a voice he knew all too well.
“Buffy.” Her name sounded strained on his lips as he turned toward her.
The Fates had brought her to the floor again, and this time there was blood.
Atropos towered over Buffy, holding something in her hand that gleamed crimson with the Slayer’s blood. At first, he thought it was a knife or a dagger but Spike realised only moments later that it was a pair of scissors.
His eyes fell on Buffy. She lay on her back, one hand pressed to her stomach; her shirt was torn from left to right and soaked with blood where the Fate had slashed her.
The three women were closing in on her, pushing her into a corner. The redhead lifted the scissors to her mouth, licking the blood off the blades.
Even over the din of the battle, Spike could hear her mewl like a kitten at the taste, her body writhing in pleasure.
“She tastes good.” It was Clotho who spoke, her voice matching the dazed expression on Atropos’ face.
“But it isn’t time for her.” Lachesis stepped up to the redhead, pressing up against the other woman.
“Yet.” A slow, nasty smile spread on Atropos’ face. She sniffed at the scissors’ blades before she turned around, her eyes focusing on Spike.
*
Sometimes time seemed to have its own wicked ways.
When you have to sit through a boring class, time crawls so slowly that it doesn’t seem to pass at all.
And when you are fighting for your life, time rushes on like a freight train.
All Buffy could do was watch in utter horror.
The Fates dismissed her, her oh so tasty blood forgotten. They passed through the ever-growing cloud as though it was just fine mist. In a blur of motion, they were on the other side. And on Spike.
Lachesis and Clotho grabbed him by his arms, their strong yet delicate looking fingers closing around his biceps, digging into his flesh. Atropos pressed up against him, running her free hand over his chest.
She lifted the scissors up to Spike’s face, tracing the lines of his cheek and jaw with the tip of the blades. His nostrils flared upon the contact, unneeded breath hitching in his throat.
Buffy could see him starting to shake when the blades nicked his skin, drawing a little blood. The Fate leaned into him, licking up the side of his face. She shivered, writhing against him. Spike just stood there, letting it happen. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t move she couldn’t tell.
Everything after that was only just a blur.
Atropos all but slithered around the vampire’s body, her hands in all the inappropriate places at once.
In a flicker of motion, Buffy saw how the Fate lifted the scissors, bringing them down on Spike’s back. The blade went in like a hot knife in butter, piercing his vest, his shirt, his skin.
As she pushed it in to the hilt, the three women leaned into him to whisper into his ear.
“Time’s up.”
***
they scratch across his back
fade to black’
- “fade to black” by dire straits
Even in the greatest turmoil, some things come to you in perfect clarity.
The inevitability of death is one of these things.
Pieces of the stone tablet lay scattered all around her as Buffy’s eyes focused on Spike.
The vampire had gathered his composure again, even his demon had retreated. He stared at Buffy in shock. They both knew what this meant.
No stone tablet, no more safety net. Their plan A had been shattered to pieces. Literally. Unfortunately, plan B would mean that one of them had to die in order to stop the Fates.
All of that came to Buffy as clear as day in a matter of seconds. The entire thought process including the not so pleasant conclusion flared up inside her brain like a big honking neon light.
“No,” she breathed but somehow she knew that Spike had heard her perfectly clearly.
Thunder roared above her. As Buffy looked up, she saw that the static cloud had grown multiple times its original size. And it kept growing. Static as bright and violent as lightning crackled through it.
Laying there on the floor, the Slayer realized that if she stayed there, the cloud would touch her in a matter of seconds. And who knew that would happen to her if it did.
She scuttled away from it, her body protesting in pain. When she looked over to Spike again, one of those screeching creatures had attacked him. Spurred by whatever fury, the vampire kept pummeling away at it, fists flying.
“You wanted to ban us, little Slayer?” Lachesis appeared at her side, squatting down next to her. “You and your little witch.”
“Shame on you, if you fool us once.” Clotho stepped through the cloud, static clinging to her body.
“Shame on us, if you fool us twice.” Atropos towered over her, propping her hands on her hips.
“You’ve really got this Charlie’s Angels thing working for you, don’t you?”
Buffy’s voice had gathered a little more strength again. Everything inside her was screaming flight while she knew that the only option was fight. Well, it wasn’t really an option rather she knew that it was the only way; and there was still no way out. For a split second, she wanted to give up, wanted to let them have her and be done with it. Some helpless, desperate part of her brain taunted her that she had nothing to fight for anyway. Her life was all about war and death, so she might just fulfill her destiny.
Buffy tried to retreat from the Fates, to get up to her feet again. She caught a glimpse of Spike who fought for his proverbial life on the other side of the cloud. For a moment, it seemed as though he was looking at her as well. There it was again, that look. His look. That one look that was only for her, that had pulled her through so many rough moments.
So, her life was all about war and death but she did have something to fight for.
Determination and resolve steeled her body, blocked the pain and tapped into the last pool of strength she had. She wouldn’t remember the almost primal scream that escaped her throat as she threw herself into battle again.
*
In his peripheral vision, Spike saw Buffy rise to her feet again. He would have helped her if he hadn’t been busy fighting the nasty creature. Like the first one they had met that night, it wore a hooded cloak that fully shrouded its head.
There was a good reason why it wore that hood. Spike had figured that out when he had torn it off the thing’s head in mid-fight.
Its head was bald, the skin pasty white. It had what looked like the compound eyes of a fly, its mouth round and lined with half a dozen rows of pointy little teeth. A foul stench emanated from it every time it lunged at Spike with one of its taloned hands.
The vampire’s sleeves were slashed and torn, and only the sturdy material of his vest kept the thing from doing any more damage. Even after firing half a clip into the thing at close range it kept going.
Spike stashed his gun, blocking a blow with his arm. The thing was damn strong. Turning around, he used its momentum to throw it over his shoulder. He stepped over the creature, jerked it up by its cloak, then wrapped his arm around its neck and twisted it until it snapped.
He had hardly time for triumph as he heard a painful scream behind him, a voice he knew all too well.
“Buffy.” Her name sounded strained on his lips as he turned toward her.
The Fates had brought her to the floor again, and this time there was blood.
Atropos towered over Buffy, holding something in her hand that gleamed crimson with the Slayer’s blood. At first, he thought it was a knife or a dagger but Spike realised only moments later that it was a pair of scissors.
His eyes fell on Buffy. She lay on her back, one hand pressed to her stomach; her shirt was torn from left to right and soaked with blood where the Fate had slashed her.
The three women were closing in on her, pushing her into a corner. The redhead lifted the scissors to her mouth, licking the blood off the blades.
Even over the din of the battle, Spike could hear her mewl like a kitten at the taste, her body writhing in pleasure.
“She tastes good.” It was Clotho who spoke, her voice matching the dazed expression on Atropos’ face.
“But it isn’t time for her.” Lachesis stepped up to the redhead, pressing up against the other woman.
“Yet.” A slow, nasty smile spread on Atropos’ face. She sniffed at the scissors’ blades before she turned around, her eyes focusing on Spike.
*
Sometimes time seemed to have its own wicked ways.
When you have to sit through a boring class, time crawls so slowly that it doesn’t seem to pass at all.
And when you are fighting for your life, time rushes on like a freight train.
All Buffy could do was watch in utter horror.
The Fates dismissed her, her oh so tasty blood forgotten. They passed through the ever-growing cloud as though it was just fine mist. In a blur of motion, they were on the other side. And on Spike.
Lachesis and Clotho grabbed him by his arms, their strong yet delicate looking fingers closing around his biceps, digging into his flesh. Atropos pressed up against him, running her free hand over his chest.
She lifted the scissors up to Spike’s face, tracing the lines of his cheek and jaw with the tip of the blades. His nostrils flared upon the contact, unneeded breath hitching in his throat.
Buffy could see him starting to shake when the blades nicked his skin, drawing a little blood. The Fate leaned into him, licking up the side of his face. She shivered, writhing against him. Spike just stood there, letting it happen. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t move she couldn’t tell.
Everything after that was only just a blur.
Atropos all but slithered around the vampire’s body, her hands in all the inappropriate places at once.
In a flicker of motion, Buffy saw how the Fate lifted the scissors, bringing them down on Spike’s back. The blade went in like a hot knife in butter, piercing his vest, his shirt, his skin.
As she pushed it in to the hilt, the three women leaned into him to whisper into his ear.
“Time’s up.”
***
Chapter 22
Chapter 22
’i got my ticket to heaven
and everlasting life
i got a ride all the way to paradise
i got my ticket to heaven
and everlasting life
all the way to paradise’
- “ticket to heaven” by dire straits
Pain lanced through Spike’s body. Pain so sharp that there were no words to describe it.
He had been stabbed before. Stabbed, tortured, burned or otherwise mutilated. All of that rolled into on big ball of pain might get close to what this felt like. And yet, it was just a shadow of it.
He didn’t scream. He simple couldn’t.
The pair of razor sharp scissors in his back had taken his last remaining breath as well as his strength. His mouth opened in a wordless plea and he could taste his own blood in his mouth.
He raised a shaking hand to Buffy, trying to reach for her although he knew that she was too far away. His vision started to blur as he felt whatever life force kept his system running slipping away from him, slowly draining from his body along with the blood that ran down his back.
He had died before, twice. Given the fact that a person usually died only once, one would think that he had gotten used to it by now.
The first time had been a wild ride along a road of pleasure he hadn’t known existed.
The second time had been painful but the pain had been gone within the blink of an eye.
And now…
He tried to fight it, fight the fear that took a hold of him. He didn’t want to die. Not again. Not now. Not after all he had fought for; after all he had been through with and for Buffy.
The realisation came with a perfect clarity. The last clear thing that made it’s way into his mind.
It was too late.
*
Buffy tried to move. She really tried.
It wasn’t the wound that was forcing her to stay on the ground. It did hurt some but she had been through worse.
She simple couldn’t move.
The Fates were still surrounding Spike. From what it looked like they were keeping him on his feet.
Blood dripped from his mouth and nose, running down his neck. It looked like he wanted to say something but the words never left his mouth. He held out a hand to her much like he had ten years ago.
And again, it was too late.
*
Atropos shoved Spike forward, pulling the scissors out of his back in the same motion. He stumbled forward as his legs gave out, dropping him to the floor like a rag doll.
Once more, the Fate raised the scissors to her mouth, licking over the blade. She even licked her finger as she caught a drop that had escaped her nimble tongue. A slow smile spread on her lips as she looked from Clotho to Lachesis, then over at Buffy again.
“We’ll take this one.”
As if he weighed nothing more than a bag of clothes, she picked Spike up by his vest, and hurled him forward into the black cloud.
Again, thunder roared as the cloud lit up with sudden lightning. The Fates stepped into it and this time it swallowed them whole. It started to swirl like a cyclone, expanding even more.
It seemed as though a miniature thunderstorm was coming down on the roof, all centered around that cloud.
Suddenly Buffy heard a crackling in her earphone. At first it just sounded like static, garbled noises with a few words that were picked up somewhere along the way. And than she figured out that it was Spike’s voice heard through all the noise.
It was nothing comprehensible, not even coherent. It was painful moans, some garbled words. And her name over and over again.
Tears started to sting her eyes, the pain of her slashed stomach forgotten. It took her only a second to understand was she was hearing.
She heard him die.
*
The cloud was expanding even more as lightning struck down on it. It swirled, roared, and danced in front of her eyes but she didn’t see that anymore.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks but she had no more strength to sob. In fact, all her strength had dissipated. She wasn’t a Slayer anymore. For the first time in her life, she was just a little girl.
When her mother had died, she had been devastated for a while but in the end, she had still been the Slayer. She had had to be there for Dawn, had to keep her safe.
But now, it was just her. None of the stuff that had bothered her back then mattered to her now. All that mattered to her now was Spike.
When she had finally come to the realization that she loved him, he hadn’t believed her. And now that they were on their way to having an actual relationship, he was taken away from her again.
Was it her? Didn’t she deserve any better? Was being the Slayer the ultimate death sentence to a normal life after all?
Lightning struck down on the cloud again, accompanied by thunder so loud that it was almost deafening. The entire building started to shake as a violent tremor rippled through it.
And then, everything went silent.
Not just quiet but deadly silent.
The building went still. The fighting seems to cease. The cloud was gone.
And so were the Fates.
*
Buffy blinked. Once. Twice.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
She must have been knocked unconscious, and this was some weird dream. Or, maybe she was dead, too. Anything else just couldn’t be possible.
*
Spike coughed. The unhealthiest sound Buffy had ever heard.
Then he drew in a shaky breath, a wheezy, throaty breath.
He tried to push himself up on his hands and knees but his arms gave out and he toppled over to one side. He let out a yelp of pain as he rolled onto his back.
A shaking hand darted up to his throat, clawing at his skin as though something was choking him. With frantic motions, his other hand roamed over his chest, trying to peel off the last remnants of his vest and shirt. He coughed once more and for a second it sounded like he was trying to choke up a fur ball.
“Buffy,” he croaked, writhing on the floor, his head rolling from side to side.
In a flash, the Slayer was at his side, her eyes wide in surprise. She knelt down next to him, her hand gripping his.
“Spike?” Her voice was shaking violently. “What happened? How did you… what’s going on?” Her other hand ran over his face, trying to make sure that he was real. With their history, you never knew. Again, tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Are you alright?”
“No,” he coughed, the words sounding as painful as they must feel in his throat. “I’m not.”
Spike’s eyes rolled back, his eyelids flickering shut, then open again. Slowly, he managed to focus on Buffy. His fingers closed around her wrist, and he pressed her palm on his chest.
“I’m alive.”
and everlasting life
i got a ride all the way to paradise
i got my ticket to heaven
and everlasting life
all the way to paradise’
- “ticket to heaven” by dire straits
Pain lanced through Spike’s body. Pain so sharp that there were no words to describe it.
He had been stabbed before. Stabbed, tortured, burned or otherwise mutilated. All of that rolled into on big ball of pain might get close to what this felt like. And yet, it was just a shadow of it.
He didn’t scream. He simple couldn’t.
The pair of razor sharp scissors in his back had taken his last remaining breath as well as his strength. His mouth opened in a wordless plea and he could taste his own blood in his mouth.
He raised a shaking hand to Buffy, trying to reach for her although he knew that she was too far away. His vision started to blur as he felt whatever life force kept his system running slipping away from him, slowly draining from his body along with the blood that ran down his back.
He had died before, twice. Given the fact that a person usually died only once, one would think that he had gotten used to it by now.
The first time had been a wild ride along a road of pleasure he hadn’t known existed.
The second time had been painful but the pain had been gone within the blink of an eye.
And now…
He tried to fight it, fight the fear that took a hold of him. He didn’t want to die. Not again. Not now. Not after all he had fought for; after all he had been through with and for Buffy.
The realisation came with a perfect clarity. The last clear thing that made it’s way into his mind.
It was too late.
*
Buffy tried to move. She really tried.
It wasn’t the wound that was forcing her to stay on the ground. It did hurt some but she had been through worse.
She simple couldn’t move.
The Fates were still surrounding Spike. From what it looked like they were keeping him on his feet.
Blood dripped from his mouth and nose, running down his neck. It looked like he wanted to say something but the words never left his mouth. He held out a hand to her much like he had ten years ago.
And again, it was too late.
*
Atropos shoved Spike forward, pulling the scissors out of his back in the same motion. He stumbled forward as his legs gave out, dropping him to the floor like a rag doll.
Once more, the Fate raised the scissors to her mouth, licking over the blade. She even licked her finger as she caught a drop that had escaped her nimble tongue. A slow smile spread on her lips as she looked from Clotho to Lachesis, then over at Buffy again.
“We’ll take this one.”
As if he weighed nothing more than a bag of clothes, she picked Spike up by his vest, and hurled him forward into the black cloud.
Again, thunder roared as the cloud lit up with sudden lightning. The Fates stepped into it and this time it swallowed them whole. It started to swirl like a cyclone, expanding even more.
It seemed as though a miniature thunderstorm was coming down on the roof, all centered around that cloud.
Suddenly Buffy heard a crackling in her earphone. At first it just sounded like static, garbled noises with a few words that were picked up somewhere along the way. And than she figured out that it was Spike’s voice heard through all the noise.
It was nothing comprehensible, not even coherent. It was painful moans, some garbled words. And her name over and over again.
Tears started to sting her eyes, the pain of her slashed stomach forgotten. It took her only a second to understand was she was hearing.
She heard him die.
*
The cloud was expanding even more as lightning struck down on it. It swirled, roared, and danced in front of her eyes but she didn’t see that anymore.
Tears were streaming down her cheeks but she had no more strength to sob. In fact, all her strength had dissipated. She wasn’t a Slayer anymore. For the first time in her life, she was just a little girl.
When her mother had died, she had been devastated for a while but in the end, she had still been the Slayer. She had had to be there for Dawn, had to keep her safe.
But now, it was just her. None of the stuff that had bothered her back then mattered to her now. All that mattered to her now was Spike.
When she had finally come to the realization that she loved him, he hadn’t believed her. And now that they were on their way to having an actual relationship, he was taken away from her again.
Was it her? Didn’t she deserve any better? Was being the Slayer the ultimate death sentence to a normal life after all?
Lightning struck down on the cloud again, accompanied by thunder so loud that it was almost deafening. The entire building started to shake as a violent tremor rippled through it.
And then, everything went silent.
Not just quiet but deadly silent.
The building went still. The fighting seems to cease. The cloud was gone.
And so were the Fates.
*
Buffy blinked. Once. Twice.
It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.
She must have been knocked unconscious, and this was some weird dream. Or, maybe she was dead, too. Anything else just couldn’t be possible.
*
Spike coughed. The unhealthiest sound Buffy had ever heard.
Then he drew in a shaky breath, a wheezy, throaty breath.
He tried to push himself up on his hands and knees but his arms gave out and he toppled over to one side. He let out a yelp of pain as he rolled onto his back.
A shaking hand darted up to his throat, clawing at his skin as though something was choking him. With frantic motions, his other hand roamed over his chest, trying to peel off the last remnants of his vest and shirt. He coughed once more and for a second it sounded like he was trying to choke up a fur ball.
“Buffy,” he croaked, writhing on the floor, his head rolling from side to side.
In a flash, the Slayer was at his side, her eyes wide in surprise. She knelt down next to him, her hand gripping his.
“Spike?” Her voice was shaking violently. “What happened? How did you… what’s going on?” Her other hand ran over his face, trying to make sure that he was real. With their history, you never knew. Again, tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Are you alright?”
“No,” he coughed, the words sounding as painful as they must feel in his throat. “I’m not.”
Spike’s eyes rolled back, his eyelids flickering shut, then open again. Slowly, he managed to focus on Buffy. His fingers closed around her wrist, and he pressed her palm on his chest.
“I’m alive.”
Epilogue
Epilogue
’now the sun's gone to hell
and the moon's riding high
let me bid you farewell
every man has to die
but it's written in the starlight
and every line on your palm
we're fools to make war
on our brothers in arms’
- “brothers in arms” by dire straits
The sky on the horizon had already gotten a slight orange tinge. The sun was about to rise in a little less than an hour.
Spike sat on the roof of the building next to the old boarding school, his legs dangling over the edge. He had dug up the half-empty bottle of scotch again, being on his best way to finish it. And this time, he got a definite buzz going.
“How are you doing?” Buffy stood behind him, leaning against the door that lead down to the stairwell.
He didn’t even turn around to her. “I don’t know.” He took a sip from the bottle. “Weird.” Another sip. “And I’m drunk. Definitely gonna regret that one in the morning.”
The Slayer sat down next to him, looking down the building for a moment and how her feet dangled over the edge as well. “So… I talked to Willow.”
“Yeah?”
“They don’t know anything for sure yet but… rumor has it that this tattoo of yours saved your butt.”
“Translated into a language that I understand this means…” he made a gesture, motioning her to explain.
“The texts said that it would require one with a life to spare to take the Fates down, right?” she explained. “Apparently, the demon inside you… was enough. The Helm of Awe you have tattooed on your back seems to have protected the rest of you.”
“So they just… took my demon?”
“Yep.”
“Sounds a little too easy if you ask me.”
“We’ll look into it.” Silence fell between them. It was a weird, uncomfortable silence. “So… how are you doing?”
Spike stared down onto the street for a long while. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “It’s been quite some time since I had a heartbeat. Trying to get used to that again.”
“Figures.” Buffy nodded though she really didn’t know what to say. This was probably the weirdest conversation she ever had.
“I have something for you,” Spike said after a moment. He reached beside him, producing a pile of letters, tied together with simple string.
“What’s this?”
“When I was… away I wrote you a bunch of letters. Never… I never had the guts to send them but… now I thought you should read them.”
Buffy took the package from his hand, fumbling with for a moment. “Thanks.” Her voice was quiet with a slight touch of irritation. She hesitated a second before she spoke. “I got something for you, too.”
She reached into the backpocket of her pants. From her fingers dangled a silver chain, a Celtic cross at its end. “I guess that might be of use to you now.”
The former vampire held out a hand, letting Buffy drop the jewellery into his palm. “You think a Celtic cross will to the job?” He eyed her questioningly.
Buffy shrugged. “If an Asatru tattoo can ward off the wrath of some Greek goddesses…”
“Guess you’re right.” Spike slipped the necklace over his head, looking down his chest at the pendant. “And if not, it still does look good on me.”
Again, silence fell.
Spike took a deep swig from the bottle, coughing at the hot sensation the alcohol left in his throat.
“Buffy, will you marry me?”
She stared at him in utter disbelieve. “What?” And as if it explained it all away, she added, “You don’t even have a valid driver’s license.”
He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Well, now that I’m human I thought I’d give it a shot.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Yes. Yes, I will. I also want to have your baby.”
Spike almost spat out the scotch he had just drunk. “What?”
This time, it was Buffy’s turn to shrug. “Well, now that you’re human I thought I’d give it a shot.”
He laughed at that. And it was the first time she ever actually heard him laugh just like that. A full fledged, wholehearted laugh.
“That was awfully tacky. Even for my standards,” he said when he had calmed down again. He squinted at her, a smile still tugging at his lips. On his own accord, he held out a hand to her. She took it with no hesitation.
“Well, you know what they say,” she said, running her thumb lightly over the back of his hand. “Once a poet.”
He snorted a little laugh, giving her hand a light squeeze.
“Always a poet.”
fin.
A/N: And here it comes to an end. Just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who read my little story, and especially those who took the time to comment. Some questions were answered, some will remain unanswered. For now. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did while I was writing it. If you did, let me know and tell your friends about it ;) Thank you guys so much *smooches*
and the moon's riding high
let me bid you farewell
every man has to die
but it's written in the starlight
and every line on your palm
we're fools to make war
on our brothers in arms’
- “brothers in arms” by dire straits
The sky on the horizon had already gotten a slight orange tinge. The sun was about to rise in a little less than an hour.
Spike sat on the roof of the building next to the old boarding school, his legs dangling over the edge. He had dug up the half-empty bottle of scotch again, being on his best way to finish it. And this time, he got a definite buzz going.
“How are you doing?” Buffy stood behind him, leaning against the door that lead down to the stairwell.
He didn’t even turn around to her. “I don’t know.” He took a sip from the bottle. “Weird.” Another sip. “And I’m drunk. Definitely gonna regret that one in the morning.”
The Slayer sat down next to him, looking down the building for a moment and how her feet dangled over the edge as well. “So… I talked to Willow.”
“Yeah?”
“They don’t know anything for sure yet but… rumor has it that this tattoo of yours saved your butt.”
“Translated into a language that I understand this means…” he made a gesture, motioning her to explain.
“The texts said that it would require one with a life to spare to take the Fates down, right?” she explained. “Apparently, the demon inside you… was enough. The Helm of Awe you have tattooed on your back seems to have protected the rest of you.”
“So they just… took my demon?”
“Yep.”
“Sounds a little too easy if you ask me.”
“We’ll look into it.” Silence fell between them. It was a weird, uncomfortable silence. “So… how are you doing?”
Spike stared down onto the street for a long while. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “It’s been quite some time since I had a heartbeat. Trying to get used to that again.”
“Figures.” Buffy nodded though she really didn’t know what to say. This was probably the weirdest conversation she ever had.
“I have something for you,” Spike said after a moment. He reached beside him, producing a pile of letters, tied together with simple string.
“What’s this?”
“When I was… away I wrote you a bunch of letters. Never… I never had the guts to send them but… now I thought you should read them.”
Buffy took the package from his hand, fumbling with for a moment. “Thanks.” Her voice was quiet with a slight touch of irritation. She hesitated a second before she spoke. “I got something for you, too.”
She reached into the backpocket of her pants. From her fingers dangled a silver chain, a Celtic cross at its end. “I guess that might be of use to you now.”
The former vampire held out a hand, letting Buffy drop the jewellery into his palm. “You think a Celtic cross will to the job?” He eyed her questioningly.
Buffy shrugged. “If an Asatru tattoo can ward off the wrath of some Greek goddesses…”
“Guess you’re right.” Spike slipped the necklace over his head, looking down his chest at the pendant. “And if not, it still does look good on me.”
Again, silence fell.
Spike took a deep swig from the bottle, coughing at the hot sensation the alcohol left in his throat.
“Buffy, will you marry me?”
She stared at him in utter disbelieve. “What?” And as if it explained it all away, she added, “You don’t even have a valid driver’s license.”
He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Well, now that I’m human I thought I’d give it a shot.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Yes. Yes, I will. I also want to have your baby.”
Spike almost spat out the scotch he had just drunk. “What?”
This time, it was Buffy’s turn to shrug. “Well, now that you’re human I thought I’d give it a shot.”
He laughed at that. And it was the first time she ever actually heard him laugh just like that. A full fledged, wholehearted laugh.
“That was awfully tacky. Even for my standards,” he said when he had calmed down again. He squinted at her, a smile still tugging at his lips. On his own accord, he held out a hand to her. She took it with no hesitation.
“Well, you know what they say,” she said, running her thumb lightly over the back of his hand. “Once a poet.”
He snorted a little laugh, giving her hand a light squeeze.
“Always a poet.”
fin.
A/N: And here it comes to an end. Just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who read my little story, and especially those who took the time to comment. Some questions were answered, some will remain unanswered. For now. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did while I was writing it. If you did, let me know and tell your friends about it ;) Thank you guys so much *smooches*
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