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Of Light And Shadow by FetchingMadScientist
 
A Chance of Reign
 
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: The song "Jenny" is by "Tommy Tutone"
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At the end of days, the time will come when the light will need the dark to survive the cataclysm. The earth will be forever changed when the dark embraces the ancient warrior of light.
- Prophecies of the Unhesines
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LONDON, ENGLAND-

The drugs were wearing off. Spike wasn’t sure where he was, he had clues but he couldn’t be sure. He was sure of this though. He was. He knew that because… God, it hurts…Who knew the Watcher had it in him? Hides his fangs well, that one. Buffy, I’m so sorry…Where are you? I’m so sorry. I tried… He could still taste the blood in his mouth. And, there was a pungent smell in the air. He could account for one. He was sure he’d bitten through his tongue trying to keep his screams contained, because at some point during their “conversation” the Watcher had informed him, politely, that he could scream all he liked and still would not be heard. Thank you, no. Won’t be giving you the satisfaction. And, he held out. The drugs did help with that. As long as he had the haze to wrap himself in, it didn’t seem real. It was as if he were watching from a distance, detached from it. But now, it hurt. Why am I smelling another…Oh, God, it’s her… And, it hurt in a way that rivaled his time under Angelus’s fine tutelage. And, that time was burned forever in his mind.

Doesn’t matter though. I can hold on…I can, as long as she…


He tried to open his eyes but found that he could not. He felt the constant cold, hard presence of metal encasing his wrists. He moved them a little but found that he had little leeway; the grip was tight, almost painful as his skin chaffed against the cuffs. He remembered hearing the scrape and chink of steel against stone.

The pain in his face and jaw could explain the blindness. Swelling. He could remember seeing the beautiful bloom of color that followed the blow that must have done this. It was yellow and pink. He wasn’t even sure what yellow looked like anymore, but it was still beautiful.

That was something he learned quite well over the years, but never more so than in the past year. Pain is sometimes very beautiful. Just like she was.

Was. Buffy are you still…? Why do I smell, her? It’s her blood. That’s what it is. Why do I smell her blood? She’s still alive, isn’t she?
He shook his head, desperate to remember, but the chemicals, though ebbing, still held him in a powerful sway. I remember. The cat. It pounced…knocked her down. She… No, she’s alive. She is! She is! She has to be…has to.

He knew he couldn’t afford to panic. Panic would make him sloppy. It was his panic that had put Buffy in danger in the first place. And Mouse. Poor Mouse. He was so trusting. He still had no idea where he was, or if he was hurt.

And then there was Rupert. If Buffy didn’t… Spike’s teeth chattered just thinking about the impossible possibility. If Buffy didn’t make it, he knew the Watcher wouldn’t make it, either. He’d been there to watch his decline that summer that seemed lifetimes ago now. He knew that the Watcher wouldn’t make it. He wasn’t sure if he would survive. He only knew that he had to. He must…somehow.

He’d made a promise. And, he was going to keep it. Even if the Nibblet hated him for the rest of her life, he would be there, for the rest of her life. He had promised to protect her, and he would.

He would protect all of them, until the end of the world. They were his family.

Spike was shaken from his reverie by the tapping of descending footsteps, getting louder as they came nearer to him. He’d caught the scent of old earth and bricks and mortar while the Watcher had been foolish enough to leave the entryway ajar during their last encounter, so he knew he was most likely underground. And, from the amount of water vapor that hung in the air, probably somewhere in England.

Spike shook his head. That wanker wasn’t fool enough to bring me home, was he? No…no, not my home. Not anymore. They’re my home, now. And, I have to get back. May be that the old man will slip up again and give me my chance. Just have to stay quiet until… Just then he heard the soft sound of a key fluttering into a lock, and turning the tumblers that would allow access to whatever lie beyond the door that bore the lock that that key happened to fit.

Listening to this, Spike could almost feel his heart in his throat as he wondered what tortures were ahead for him. Then came more footsteps, and the melodious sound of seven notes. A numeric keypad, much like the one on a pushbutton telephone dial. Spike’s mind flashed on a memory of a telephone keypad. He remembered that the buttons sounded a tone when they were pressed. Each one was a separate note. Spike struggled not to laugh aloud as he thought, Anne- mum, thank you for forcing a little boy to study the piano!

The matching numbers ran through his brain on a continuing loop. They would remain in that loop, playing over and over. 3634263…It’s not exactly Jenny’s number, but it’s catchy. It could be important. Have to keep it in mind, until I find my way out of here, and back home.

There were still more footsteps, and then a door opened. His torturer was back for another round of “Kick the Spike.”

Quentin was incensed. The vampire was his prisoner. What on earth did he have to smile about? He kicked the vampire hard in the stomach, and was rewarded with a muffled gasp. But, the smile had not gone from his lips.

“Why are you smiling?!” Quentin demanded.

Spike smiled on, and said nothing. The pain in his gut only made the victory sweeter. Very clever, Watcher. But, not clever enough. Kick to your heart’s content. It won’t help. Kicking and screaming won’t change a thing. It’s still coming. And, you know it, don’t you? That’s why the rifles were there. I scare you don’t I?

With every blow he struck, Quentin was confirming what Spike already knew.

Yes, I do. And, if I can scare you, that means I can win.

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