KENYA-THE NEAR FUTURE-

The fire climbed high into the night. And, Spike had to bite his tongue. They should be on alert. One could never be too careful. These were dangerous times.

He was still more prey than predator, and for Mouse to be so careless…he could have sworn that the old shaman knew better.

As he approached the fire, and noticed the young boys sitting there, Spike did his best to keep his temper under control, as he surveyed the land around the glow of the fire. There was nothing for miles. He sensed no immediate threat.

The old man knew better. He had been with him from the beginning, when he actually thought he would change the way the world worked.

Before it all went to Hell.

And, Mouse knew better than to build a fire, in the open like this, for anyone to see.

Yes, Mouse knew better. But, Spike had learned some time ago, that to constantly be focused on the fight would wear a person down, make him sloppy, and make it more likely that a fighter would not return from battle.

Panya was in his element, and if he had to take an extra watch to let him be happy, when it was so rare these days, then so be it.

After all, he was in the boy’s debt.

He shook his head in affection as the old man weaved his spell. Spike could still see sparks of the boy, whom he had clung to in his time of darkness, in the man before him.

He had them enraptured. They were hanging on his every word. Spike could remember a time when he’d wished for that kind of power, and now, he only wished things could be as simple as Panya’s stories made them seem.

How the old man loved to tell a story.

Still, it is bloody stupid. There’s no telling what they’ll do next. It may be safe now, but that can’t last much longer…

“Panya,” he said gently, as he made his way carefully around the fire, watching the wonder-filled eyes of the young cubs that were watching him take his seat beside him, “Mouse, are you telling stories again?”

Panya smiled, shaking his head, “One cannot be telling stories, Simba, if what one says is true,” his wise gaze locked with all of the young warriors that surrounded him, each in turn, as he continued, pleased to notice the excited whisperings that had begun, “Can one?”

Spike took secret delight in the rumblings, they fed his ego, and, like it or not, in times like these, he needed to be reminded that he could be good. That the Synod wouldn’t have started this war if he wasn’t still some kind of threat to them.

He gave the shaman a knowing glance, “One can embellish. I’ve done it myself.”

Panya could only smile as one of the young warriors that had been listening to his story, spoke up, in a hushed voice, “You are, Simba? Truly?”

Spike raised an eyebrow, “Well, that depends on your point of view, doesn’t it?”

The boy fell silent, confused by his words.

“There are no untruths or embellishments here, Simba,” Panya insisted.

Spike sighed, wearily, as he settled in for a long watch, “All right then,” he relented, “Where are we, old friend?”
*******************************************************

Spike tried to get lost in the nearness of Buffy, in her softness and her warmth. But, there was something gnawing at the back of his mind.

He tried to shut out the argument that was growing louder with every kiss, every kind touch that she gave him. With every soft whisper, it became more and more real. It was as harsh and unforgiving as the sunlight. But, it reminded him of his place, and so, he welcomed it.

He tried to get lost in the small miracle she had granted him. But, the voice was so loud that he couldn’t ignore it anymore, “Enough,” he growled, reluctantly pushing Buffy’s comforting touch away, “I’ve heard enough!”

Buffy brushed his cheek with her fingertips, and shook her head, her eyes softening with regret as she watched his face harden, and she watched the little spark of hope, that she had nurtured and tended to, disappear, “No, Spike, don’t listen to her,” her voice trembled, “She doesn’t know you…or me,” she tried, gently, to keep him from leaving her side. She put her hand on his arm, and felt his muscles tighten in resistance, as he drew away from her, “Don’t listen to her, Spike,” she begged, the look of determination in his eye made her stomach lurch. She hated the feeling.

She knew it- too well.

Her heart screamed, as she watched him pull on his clothes, and as he turned to look at her, the cold tone in his voice made it scream even louder, “She’s right, Buffy,” he tried to keep his gaze steady, focusing on a point just above her head. He had to be strong. If he allowed himself to actually see the pain he was causing her, he didn’t know if he would be able to do what he knew he had to. This was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. The battle for his soul, his torment at Travers’s hands- it all was unbelievably painful, so painful he didn’t know how he’d been able to survive them; but, what he was about to do was worse than all of that, “Buffy,” he sighed, trying to speak over the desperate ache in his chest, “we know that the longer I stay here, the longer you’re all in danger. Just in the past few days, I’ve put you in danger. Did you know, that if I hadn’t fought him, Angel would have burned this house down,” his eyes took in his surroundings, and then came back to her glistening eyes, and in them, he could see her pain. Still, she had to know, she had to understand that he was doing this out of love, both for her, and the Nibblet, and everyone around her, “with you and Giles, and the Nibblet inside?”

Buffy shook her head, imploring him not to do what she knew he thought he had to, “Spike, I would love to see him try! He knows he would have been dust before he struck the match,” she got up from the bed, wanting to do what she could to convince him to stay; she stepped up to close the space between them. She knew what he wanted to do, and she didn’t want him to do it, “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not,” he sighed, his gaze falling on the bruise that was still discoloring her skin, where he’d bitten her, “But, we both know what is,” he said gravely, “And, the longer I’m here, the longer you are in danger, the more your methods are questioned,” his voice ebbed, as very powerful emotions began to shake him, and his resolve. His whole body seemed to tremble, against his will, “I’m endangering the Slayer, and you,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his decision, and what he knew he had to do, “and everyone I…” he swallowed the pain that threatened to consume him, and looked, unwaveringly, into her shining eyes, “…love. Slayer,” he choked, stepping unconsciously closer to her; wanting to touch her, to memorize her. His eyes drifted down, away from hers. He didn’t want to see her pain, not wanting to add to all the pain he’d already caused her, “Slayer…I have to leave.”