 |
Chapter 1
Beta readers for this and the next chapters: DawnofMe and Tanit
Slayer blood dripped from the sides of his mouth; its taste lingered on his tongue and its power coursed through his veins. This and every other bloody thing – the body limp on the damp dirt, the death-like, shivering silence hovering over the cold cemetery – told him it was real. A menacing, unearthly whisper crept into his mind; told him he'd done something terribly, terribly bad...
It had seemed to be the only solution right from the moment she walked into the wrecked Summers’ home. From the cold, vacant darkness in her eyes and the change in her familiar scent, it was clear: she wasn't the woman he fell in love with.
He'd half-expected her to be traumatized, wherever she'd been. But there was no hint of shock, fear, or uncertainty. Though she was the Slayer, she was still human. That was something the Scoobies sometimes failed to remember.
Buffy seemed apathetic as well. She had not even asked what the bleeding hell was going on. Though she had asked about Dawn and the Scoobies, which he thought to be a good sign, he still felt that something had changed about her.
With a crooked smile, he said, “I don't know where they are exactly. Don't receive memos from that lot, do I?” Buffy only responded with an absent stare. She was still wearing the black dress that she'd been dressed in when they had buried her. “Last I heard from Dawn, they were at Angel's.” He'd anticipated a change in her mood when he mentioned the poof, but she only nodded with disinterest and began to walk around the ruined house.
“It's bloody chaos out there, Slayer,” he said to her above the noise of motorcycles revving and accelerating, demons laughing, and people crying and screaming as he followed her around the house.
“I know.” She seemed to be looking for something. What it might be, Spike had no idea, until she stopped in front of the Summers' weapons chest beneath the shards of glass and rubble. She turned to him in an instant, her eyes still as cold as before. She asked him with uncertainty, “This is my weapons chest, isn't it?”
“Right,” Spike replied slowly, still unable to believe that Buffy was right there in front of him, alive. Of course, it could have been a dream. He'd dreamed about her hundreds of times before. But everything felt so real, so vivid, that he knew he wasn't dreaming this time.
She picked up a couple of weapons with great ease, as if her body had not been laying limp and decaying just a couple of hours ago. She seemed to be stronger than ever and it scared him to death.
“Where are you off to?” He knew bloody well she wasn't going to give him a sodding map or a detailed description, but it was all he could think to say. With all the thoughts running through his mind, it was a wonder he managed even such a simple question.
Buffy examined the array of weapons on hand, determining which to bring and which to leave behind for her quest. When she decided to go with the small ones, the knife and the crossbow, she glanced up at him. “This is my turf. The demons need to know who they're dealing with.”
“You might want to slow down there a little, love,” Spike hurriedly said. “You've just come back from...” He shifted as the word hell came into his mind, though Buffy's glance was still blank, as if it didn't bother her at all. “I don't know what you've been through but--”
She did the infamous Buffy Summers' eye roll, which comforted him a little and reassured him that she was indeed Buffy. She spun around, flipping her hair, and walked towards the threshold. “I'm fine,” she said over her shoulder.
This is Buffy, Spike assured himself. Stubborn Buffy. He'd moved past her, beating her to the front door and grabbing her arm just as she grasped the doorknob. That was when he saw her bloodied knuckles. He withdrew his hand and Buffy did the same but with not the least hint of embarrassment.
“Your hand,”he said in a sympathetic voice. Buffy ducked her head. “Had to crawl your way out of your grave, didn't you?”
Buffy lifted her head, her eyes nothing short of complete passivity. “I guess you would know. You, being dead and all.” Ignoring Spike's dropped jaw and raised eyebrow, she made her way out of the house.
Spike grumbled a few incoherent words and ran after her.
Sensing the vampire right behind her, Buffy spun around. She held up her hand to stop him. “What do you think you're doing?”
“What's it look like I'm doing? I'm coming with you.”
“No, you're not,” she said firmly. Taking a few steps to him so that they were face to face, she said through gritted teeth, “I am doing this alone. And if you don't want to end up gone with the wind, you'd better stay out of my way... vampire.” She stepped back, looked him up and down, and turned from him, continuing to walk away.
Spike stood there, stunned and speechless, his mouth agape, his unnecessary breathing fast. She wasn't Buffy.
“Fine! Do whatever you like, you crazy bitch!” Immediately, he regretted his words and shouted, “Be careful!”
Spike continued to look after her as she walked away. There was no way in hell he was going to leave her alone.
Buffy scoured Sunnydale for the place where most of the demons were. She ended up at the Bronze and with a shrug, she said, “Figures.” She'd walked in, crossbow in hand and knife hidden beneath her dress. “So this is where the party's at.” Every demon in the Bronze eyed her as she continued to saunter further into the hall.
“Slayer,” one demon growled, and then charged at her, full force.
Buffy knocked him unconscious with one upper cut, making the rest of the demons lined up against the wall shrink back.
“So...” Buffy said coyly as she stood in the middle of the roomful of demons.
One demon stepped forward. He appeared to be the leader of the group, acting as if he weren’t afraid of the Slayer in their midst. He had pointy teeth peeking out from behind his colorless lips. His eyes were deep red, his nose pudgy with two huge holes. His skin was pale yellow with orange splotches. “Thought you were dead.”
Buffy twirled the crossbow and shrugged, “I was. Guess I bounce back quickly.”
“How do you want to do this?”
“Beg pardon?” Buffy asked, still playing innocent.
“Think you could take us all?”
Buffy chuckled and the demons growled. “Oh, I'm not here to fight, Mister...” She looked the demon up and down with her nose wrinkled. “Ugly-pants.”
The demon clenched his jaw. “Then what are ya here for?”
“A proposition,” Buffy answered straightforwardly.
Slayer blood dripped from the sides of his mouth; its taste lingered on his tongue and its power coursed through his veins. This and every other bloody thing – the body limp on the damp dirt, the death-like, shivering silence hovering over the cold cemetery – told him it was real. A menacing, unearthly whisper crept into his mind; told him he'd done something terribly, terribly bad...
It had seemed to be the only solution right from the moment she walked into the wrecked Summers’ home. From the cold, vacant darkness in her eyes and the change in her familiar scent, it was clear: she wasn't the woman he fell in love with.
He'd half-expected her to be traumatized, wherever she'd been. But there was no hint of shock, fear, or uncertainty. Though she was the Slayer, she was still human. That was something the Scoobies sometimes failed to remember.
Buffy seemed apathetic as well. She had not even asked what the bleeding hell was going on. Though she had asked about Dawn and the Scoobies, which he thought to be a good sign, he still felt that something had changed about her.
With a crooked smile, he said, “I don't know where they are exactly. Don't receive memos from that lot, do I?” Buffy only responded with an absent stare. She was still wearing the black dress that she'd been dressed in when they had buried her. “Last I heard from Dawn, they were at Angel's.” He'd anticipated a change in her mood when he mentioned the poof, but she only nodded with disinterest and began to walk around the ruined house.
“It's bloody chaos out there, Slayer,” he said to her above the noise of motorcycles revving and accelerating, demons laughing, and people crying and screaming as he followed her around the house.
“I know.” She seemed to be looking for something. What it might be, Spike had no idea, until she stopped in front of the Summers' weapons chest beneath the shards of glass and rubble. She turned to him in an instant, her eyes still as cold as before. She asked him with uncertainty, “This is my weapons chest, isn't it?”
“Right,” Spike replied slowly, still unable to believe that Buffy was right there in front of him, alive. Of course, it could have been a dream. He'd dreamed about her hundreds of times before. But everything felt so real, so vivid, that he knew he wasn't dreaming this time.
She picked up a couple of weapons with great ease, as if her body had not been laying limp and decaying just a couple of hours ago. She seemed to be stronger than ever and it scared him to death.
“Where are you off to?” He knew bloody well she wasn't going to give him a sodding map or a detailed description, but it was all he could think to say. With all the thoughts running through his mind, it was a wonder he managed even such a simple question.
Buffy examined the array of weapons on hand, determining which to bring and which to leave behind for her quest. When she decided to go with the small ones, the knife and the crossbow, she glanced up at him. “This is my turf. The demons need to know who they're dealing with.”
“You might want to slow down there a little, love,” Spike hurriedly said. “You've just come back from...” He shifted as the word hell came into his mind, though Buffy's glance was still blank, as if it didn't bother her at all. “I don't know what you've been through but--”
She did the infamous Buffy Summers' eye roll, which comforted him a little and reassured him that she was indeed Buffy. She spun around, flipping her hair, and walked towards the threshold. “I'm fine,” she said over her shoulder.
This is Buffy, Spike assured himself. Stubborn Buffy. He'd moved past her, beating her to the front door and grabbing her arm just as she grasped the doorknob. That was when he saw her bloodied knuckles. He withdrew his hand and Buffy did the same but with not the least hint of embarrassment.
“Your hand,”he said in a sympathetic voice. Buffy ducked her head. “Had to crawl your way out of your grave, didn't you?”
Buffy lifted her head, her eyes nothing short of complete passivity. “I guess you would know. You, being dead and all.” Ignoring Spike's dropped jaw and raised eyebrow, she made her way out of the house.
Spike grumbled a few incoherent words and ran after her.
Sensing the vampire right behind her, Buffy spun around. She held up her hand to stop him. “What do you think you're doing?”
“What's it look like I'm doing? I'm coming with you.”
“No, you're not,” she said firmly. Taking a few steps to him so that they were face to face, she said through gritted teeth, “I am doing this alone. And if you don't want to end up gone with the wind, you'd better stay out of my way... vampire.” She stepped back, looked him up and down, and turned from him, continuing to walk away.
Spike stood there, stunned and speechless, his mouth agape, his unnecessary breathing fast. She wasn't Buffy.
“Fine! Do whatever you like, you crazy bitch!” Immediately, he regretted his words and shouted, “Be careful!”
Spike continued to look after her as she walked away. There was no way in hell he was going to leave her alone.
Buffy scoured Sunnydale for the place where most of the demons were. She ended up at the Bronze and with a shrug, she said, “Figures.” She'd walked in, crossbow in hand and knife hidden beneath her dress. “So this is where the party's at.” Every demon in the Bronze eyed her as she continued to saunter further into the hall.
“Slayer,” one demon growled, and then charged at her, full force.
Buffy knocked him unconscious with one upper cut, making the rest of the demons lined up against the wall shrink back.
“So...” Buffy said coyly as she stood in the middle of the roomful of demons.
One demon stepped forward. He appeared to be the leader of the group, acting as if he weren’t afraid of the Slayer in their midst. He had pointy teeth peeking out from behind his colorless lips. His eyes were deep red, his nose pudgy with two huge holes. His skin was pale yellow with orange splotches. “Thought you were dead.”
Buffy twirled the crossbow and shrugged, “I was. Guess I bounce back quickly.”
“How do you want to do this?”
“Beg pardon?” Buffy asked, still playing innocent.
“Think you could take us all?”
Buffy chuckled and the demons growled. “Oh, I'm not here to fight, Mister...” She looked the demon up and down with her nose wrinkled. “Ugly-pants.”
The demon clenched his jaw. “Then what are ya here for?”
“A proposition,” Buffy answered straightforwardly.
Chapter 2
Spike's mind was full of questions when he saw Buffy walk into the demon-filled Bronze. He closed his eyes and grumbled a few curses as he thought about Buffy’s irrational behavior. Fearing that the still recovering Slayer would do something as utterly stupid as facing a horde of demons, he walked around to the back of the nightclub. He wanted to know what she was really up to and if she needed help, he wanted to be there. Although judging by how she'd acted back at the wrecked Summers' house, she didn't need it. Nonetheless, he would keep an eye on her.
It still surprised him how quickly she got back on her feet. Slayer strength or no Slayer strength, it was definitely odd.
He slowly made his way to the back alley of the Bronze, craning his neck as he hid behind a wall to see if there were lookouts. Fortunately, there was only one demon guarding the door. Spike grinned, knowing that getting past the demon would be a piece of cake. He raised his upper lip on one side and swaggered right up the entrance. He continued to saunter up the steps until the demon stopped him just a few feet away from the door.
Spike kept his calm and looked the demon in his blood red eyes. “I'm here for the shindig.”
The demon chuckled. He eyed Spike, put his hands on the sides of his rotund waist and then snorted. “No, you're not. William the Bloody.”
Spike inhaled deeply to ready himself for the fight he knew was coming. “Famous, am I? But it's just Spike now, mate,” he said casually.
“I know who you are. You’re affiliated with the dead Slayer,” the demon clucked and advanced toward him. It lunged, arms wide open, ready to grab the vampire.
Spike pushed him to the side with his left hand and kneed him in the stomach, hard. The demon doubled over and Spike mercilessly kicked him one more time. He titled his head left to right, readjusted his coat and walked past him. “Ponce.” He chuckled and made his way in.
As soon as he entered backstage, he heard Buffy's voice. “A proposition.”
The demon scoffed, though he seemed to be interested in hearing what the Slayer had to say as he stood there silently and seemingly in deep thought. “What kind of proposition?”
“The kind where I don't kill you,” Buffy said while she paced across the dance floor. The demon didn't answer, probably gauging if she was bluffing or not. “And believe me, I could kill every single one of you. I sort of killed a God, in case you haven't heard,” she said with a smug smirk. She cocked her head to the side and asked,. “Who are you again?”
“My name is Roh'gna. Chief of the--”
“Whatever,” Buffy said, waving a hand dismissively as she kept walking back and forth across the center of the club. “So what do you say, Rhonda?”
The demon clenched his fists and stopped himself from attacking the Slayer right then and there. Though he knew there was a possibility that they could take her if they attacked all at once, he wasn't going to risk it. Not now, at least. He tried to correct her. “Roh'g--”
“I don't kill you and let you stay; you take orders from me,” Buffy said, cutting him off. She stopped in front of Roh'gna and folded her arms, her right foot slightly forward and sneered. “And we'll all be one big happy family.”
Despite the authoritativeness in her demeanor, every demon in the Bronze laughed at her. Roh'gna laughed the loudest. The absurdity of one girl taking on tens of demons, however strong she was, was too much.
But Buffy wasn't the least bit deterred. Her lips turned into a frigid straight line. She was certain and absolutely serious about everything she'd said and their mockery didn't have any effect on her. Instead, she scanned the Bronze for a victim and approached one demon in the corner to prove her point. “You seem strong enough,” she said with a shrug. The demon raised his chin, a gesture that said that he agreed with her and was proud of it.
Unexpectedly, Buffy socked the chosen demon in the face, grabbed his huge, slimy head and snapped his thick neck. The maniacal laughter ceased. The demons all fell silent and the only sound that filled the room was the loud thud of the lifeless body of the demon as it hit the ground.
Buffy's eyes wandered across the room, looking at the demons whose mouths hung open. Her face lit up with a cocky grin, pleased that she’d accomplished her goal. “Right. As I was saying... Do we have a deal?” She faced the angered Roh'gna and said, “Not like you have a choice, but...”
“What's in it for us?”
Buffy quirked a brow and pouted. “Didn't I just say the continuing-to-live-your-worthless-lives part? Isn't anybody listening?”
“And what else?”
Buffy leered and strode forward, stopping when she was in front of Roh'gna. “You know, I'm getting really tired of convincing you.” She looked the chief straight in the eye, challenging him, threatening him with just her glare.
Roh'gna forced down the bile in his throat. He wasn't going to let some little girl boss him around, but then again, the Slayer wasn’t just any little girl. He decided to cooperate, this time at least. Voice tight with anger, he asked, “What do you want us to do?”
Spike, all the while, had been eavesdropping. At first, he told himself that Buffy was just bluffing. He tried to convince himself that she was just playing them and was getting ready to finish them all off though he knew it really wasn't Buffy's style to follow the keep your friends close and your enemies closer school of thought. But now, he’d had enough. He didn't want to listen any more. He couldn't believe what he'd heard. The Slayer had definitely gone daft. It was as if he was listening to some cold-blooded killer, a demon, even.
Spike ran his hand down his pallid cheeks and exhaled loudly. He studied Buffy for a moment, deciding whether to stay or to go. He figured that if he was to save Buffy from herself, he needed to know what she was planning. If he didn’t like it, he might just be able to stop her if he had the least bit idea of what she was up to. So he chose to stay and remain for the rest of the meeting.
A few moments later, Buffy quickly spun around to his direction, eyebrows furrowed and eyes trying to pierce the darkness where Spike was hiding. Spike quickly saw that she had sensed him, and sunk back further into the shadows to avoid being seen.
Turning back to the demons, Buffy told them that they should continue the conversation at some other time. “I still need my beauty sleep,” she said. She moved past Roh'gna who was scratching his chin in confusion.
Spike left quickly when he saw Buffy headed for the exit. If he hurried, he could beat Buffy home and she would never know that he'd been spying on her.
It still surprised him how quickly she got back on her feet. Slayer strength or no Slayer strength, it was definitely odd.
He slowly made his way to the back alley of the Bronze, craning his neck as he hid behind a wall to see if there were lookouts. Fortunately, there was only one demon guarding the door. Spike grinned, knowing that getting past the demon would be a piece of cake. He raised his upper lip on one side and swaggered right up the entrance. He continued to saunter up the steps until the demon stopped him just a few feet away from the door.
Spike kept his calm and looked the demon in his blood red eyes. “I'm here for the shindig.”
The demon chuckled. He eyed Spike, put his hands on the sides of his rotund waist and then snorted. “No, you're not. William the Bloody.”
Spike inhaled deeply to ready himself for the fight he knew was coming. “Famous, am I? But it's just Spike now, mate,” he said casually.
“I know who you are. You’re affiliated with the dead Slayer,” the demon clucked and advanced toward him. It lunged, arms wide open, ready to grab the vampire.
Spike pushed him to the side with his left hand and kneed him in the stomach, hard. The demon doubled over and Spike mercilessly kicked him one more time. He titled his head left to right, readjusted his coat and walked past him. “Ponce.” He chuckled and made his way in.
As soon as he entered backstage, he heard Buffy's voice. “A proposition.”
The demon scoffed, though he seemed to be interested in hearing what the Slayer had to say as he stood there silently and seemingly in deep thought. “What kind of proposition?”
“The kind where I don't kill you,” Buffy said while she paced across the dance floor. The demon didn't answer, probably gauging if she was bluffing or not. “And believe me, I could kill every single one of you. I sort of killed a God, in case you haven't heard,” she said with a smug smirk. She cocked her head to the side and asked,. “Who are you again?”
“My name is Roh'gna. Chief of the--”
“Whatever,” Buffy said, waving a hand dismissively as she kept walking back and forth across the center of the club. “So what do you say, Rhonda?”
The demon clenched his fists and stopped himself from attacking the Slayer right then and there. Though he knew there was a possibility that they could take her if they attacked all at once, he wasn't going to risk it. Not now, at least. He tried to correct her. “Roh'g--”
“I don't kill you and let you stay; you take orders from me,” Buffy said, cutting him off. She stopped in front of Roh'gna and folded her arms, her right foot slightly forward and sneered. “And we'll all be one big happy family.”
Despite the authoritativeness in her demeanor, every demon in the Bronze laughed at her. Roh'gna laughed the loudest. The absurdity of one girl taking on tens of demons, however strong she was, was too much.
But Buffy wasn't the least bit deterred. Her lips turned into a frigid straight line. She was certain and absolutely serious about everything she'd said and their mockery didn't have any effect on her. Instead, she scanned the Bronze for a victim and approached one demon in the corner to prove her point. “You seem strong enough,” she said with a shrug. The demon raised his chin, a gesture that said that he agreed with her and was proud of it.
Unexpectedly, Buffy socked the chosen demon in the face, grabbed his huge, slimy head and snapped his thick neck. The maniacal laughter ceased. The demons all fell silent and the only sound that filled the room was the loud thud of the lifeless body of the demon as it hit the ground.
Buffy's eyes wandered across the room, looking at the demons whose mouths hung open. Her face lit up with a cocky grin, pleased that she’d accomplished her goal. “Right. As I was saying... Do we have a deal?” She faced the angered Roh'gna and said, “Not like you have a choice, but...”
“What's in it for us?”
Buffy quirked a brow and pouted. “Didn't I just say the continuing-to-live-your-worthless-lives part? Isn't anybody listening?”
“And what else?”
Buffy leered and strode forward, stopping when she was in front of Roh'gna. “You know, I'm getting really tired of convincing you.” She looked the chief straight in the eye, challenging him, threatening him with just her glare.
Roh'gna forced down the bile in his throat. He wasn't going to let some little girl boss him around, but then again, the Slayer wasn’t just any little girl. He decided to cooperate, this time at least. Voice tight with anger, he asked, “What do you want us to do?”
Spike, all the while, had been eavesdropping. At first, he told himself that Buffy was just bluffing. He tried to convince himself that she was just playing them and was getting ready to finish them all off though he knew it really wasn't Buffy's style to follow the keep your friends close and your enemies closer school of thought. But now, he’d had enough. He didn't want to listen any more. He couldn't believe what he'd heard. The Slayer had definitely gone daft. It was as if he was listening to some cold-blooded killer, a demon, even.
Spike ran his hand down his pallid cheeks and exhaled loudly. He studied Buffy for a moment, deciding whether to stay or to go. He figured that if he was to save Buffy from herself, he needed to know what she was planning. If he didn’t like it, he might just be able to stop her if he had the least bit idea of what she was up to. So he chose to stay and remain for the rest of the meeting.
A few moments later, Buffy quickly spun around to his direction, eyebrows furrowed and eyes trying to pierce the darkness where Spike was hiding. Spike quickly saw that she had sensed him, and sunk back further into the shadows to avoid being seen.
Turning back to the demons, Buffy told them that they should continue the conversation at some other time. “I still need my beauty sleep,” she said. She moved past Roh'gna who was scratching his chin in confusion.
Spike left quickly when he saw Buffy headed for the exit. If he hurried, he could beat Buffy home and she would never know that he'd been spying on her.
Chapter 3
The floor could have had a trench in it by the time Buffy got back to the barely standing Summers' home. Spike had been walking slowly in long strides, back and forth across the disheveled living room, occasionally stopping to look at the clock and wondering what was taking Buffy so long. He shook his head and cursed under his breath for leaving before she did. She could have stayed when she'd sensed that she wasn't being watched any more.
The television was murmuring in the background as he waited for her to arrive. Spike had chuckled wryly when he saw Salem’s Lot was playing. A movie about a town invaded by vampires, and it was up to two people to save the day. “How fitting.”
The door creaked as it opened and he turned around. He saw Buffy come in, and relief washed over him. He called out to her before she ran up the stairs.
Buffy spun around quickly in surprise. She closed her half-opened mouth, dropped the hand she had clutched to her chest, and approached him. “You're still here. And awake.”
“Vampire.”
“Right.” Her focus went to the television set for a quick second, and then she gave Spike another look. “I'm going to bed.” She walked away from him and Spike followed her just to the foot of the staircase. He watched her ascend the stairs in her black dress, gliding her hand along the wobbly railing while she took one slow step at a time, and it reminded him of Drusilla. The semblance between the two brought gooseflesh out on Spike's arms.
Buffy's hiss called him out of his thoughts.
“What happened?”
Buffy turned to him with her brows furrowed and a pout. It was the first time she actually looked like Buffy. She went back down to the foot of the stairs and showed him her hand.
Spike gulped when he saw a splinter stuck in the palm of her hand, which was now only a few inches from his nose, the metallic aroma inviting him to taste the blood of a Slayer once more. Buffy's lips slowly stretched to a mischievous curl. “I hurt my hand.”
“Let's take care of that,” he said in a tight voice as he pulled her by the hand up to the second floor. “Y-you should be careful around here. Place is a mess. Lots of splinters, broken glass here and there.”
They entered the bathroom and Spike rifled through the cabinet for the first aid kit. Buffy watched, amused by how she'd shaken him up with just a drop of her blood. Spike hesitantly held her hand as he removed the splinter and began to disinfect the wound, dabbing at gently. “I guess we need to take care of this too,” he said, noticing the wounds on her knuckles.
After he'd bandaged her hands, he carefully placed them down at her sides, as if she were Miss Edith and made of porcelain.
“Get some rest.” Spike started for the door but Buffy's predatory voice stopped him.
“I know you want my blood.”
Spike froze at the door with his back to her. He knew there was going to be trouble when he heard the sound of a zipper opening.
He spun around and saw Buffy stripped of her clothes. Her cat-like eyes tempted him to ravage her right there; just the sight of her pursed lips made him painfully hard.
Hastily averting his eyes, Spike saw her dress on the floor and picked it up. He raised his hand and gave her back her clothes, with his eyes still downcast, and chose to say nothing.
Buffy grabbed her clothes. She hugged her dress over the front of her exposed body and in a harsh tone asked, “Who do you think you're fooling with this hero crap? You're a killer. Just like me.”
Spike, head still bent, slowly lifted his gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you?” His eyes burned with tears that he tried to hold back. He fisted his hands and gazed into her soulless eyes.
“Deal with it.” she said firmly. She turned to the tub and turned the faucet on.
Spike's nails carved half-moons into his shaking palms as he stood there, unmoving. Buffy had come back wrong. She'd been resurrected somehow, and there were grave consequences. The only possible explanation he could think of was magic – the kind that shouldn’t be messed with. And there was only one of the Scoobies who was powerful enough, and now maybe stupid enough, to dabble with such dark magics.
His eyes widened and he clenched his hands. “Willow,” he whispered with a grunt.
Buffy spun around when she heard Spike was still there. “Are you going to just stand there and watch me take a bath?”
“I'll get your room ready for you.” Spike walked out of the bathroom, teeth clenched in anger, and closed the door behind him. He went into Buffy's room and cleared the bed of Willow's things. He then made his way down the stairs, mind reeling, and wandered back into the living room. Needing to calm down, he sat on the sofa, wringing his hands between his knees, breathing deeply. As his tension eased, he began to notice the sounds coming from upstairs. The water splashed softly and Buffy was humming; he couldn't help but imagine her in the tub. He chuckled disdainfully at his thoughts.
The longer Buffy spent in the bath, the more time he had to consider his options. When he heard the water rush through the pipes, he knew bath time was over. Moments later, the bathroom door opened. He stood up and went to the living room threshold, bracing himself for another confrontation. He was relieved when he heard Buffy’s footsteps cross the hall instead of toward the staircase. A door closed, and he cocked his head, listening carefully, waiting. A few minutes later, he heard her heartbeat and breathing slow and fall into a steady rhythm. He was certain she had fallen asleep and quickly headed for the desk where the phone was. He couldn’t waste the opportunity to act. He needed some answers from the witch fast. He needed to know how she'd bargained for Buffy's life back. What did Willow give up, what did she get from it, and what had Buffy lost?
He opened the address book beside the phone and looked up the number for Angel Investigations. He picked up the phone and dialed.
A cheery woman answered. “Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. How can we help you?”
Spike gripped the telephone and began to rethink his decision to call Willow. He was sure that she'd be running to Peaches in an instant, asking for help. They’d be saving Buffy when he should be the one to do it. His mouth opened, but only a strangled croak came out.
A crease formed between Cordelia’s eyes while she twirled the phone's cord in her fingers. “Hello?”
“Is Red there?” Spike quickly asked. He wanted to know what was going on, and if Willow was responsible for Buffy’s resurrection, she was his best hope for getting answers. So, sod his better judgment. If Willow did tell Angel and the wanker decided to help, then so be it. It was for Buffy, after all.
“Who?” Cordelia asked.
“Willow. Is she there?”
“Who's calling?”
The muscle in Spike's jaw ticked. This was harder than he expected. “It's Spike.”
“Spike? The Spike? You're using a phone?” Cordelia asked incredulously, ignoring the annoyed tone in Spike's voice.
Spike's jaw tightened even more. He didn't have time for such dilly-dallying. “Yes, I'm using a bloody phone! Now can I please speak with Willow?”
“Okay, okay. Jeez.”
About a minute later, after asking Cordelia if she was pulling a prank on her, Willow picked up the phone. “Spike?”
Spike hastily got to why he’d called. He'd wasted enough time already and if he was going to save Buffy from whatever deal Willow had made with the dark forces, he needed to move fast. “How'd you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You bloody well know what,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I don't know—”
“Did they take her soul? Did they make her half a demon? What was the deal?”
“Oh my God!” Willow gasped. “She's...” She didn't speak for a few moments, too surprised with what she'd just learned. “It worked?”
Spike was tapping his foot impatiently. “What worked?”
“I—It was just a resurrection spell. I didn't make any deal or--”
Before Willow had a chance to explain further, Spike hung up the phone. Shaking his head, he gripped the edge of the table. He leaned forward and ducked his head. He believed Willow, but what she’d done was still wrong. He was beyond happy that Buffy was alive but the thing about magic was that there were always consequences. Always. And now? Buffy had come back wrong.
The television was murmuring in the background as he waited for her to arrive. Spike had chuckled wryly when he saw Salem’s Lot was playing. A movie about a town invaded by vampires, and it was up to two people to save the day. “How fitting.”
The door creaked as it opened and he turned around. He saw Buffy come in, and relief washed over him. He called out to her before she ran up the stairs.
Buffy spun around quickly in surprise. She closed her half-opened mouth, dropped the hand she had clutched to her chest, and approached him. “You're still here. And awake.”
“Vampire.”
“Right.” Her focus went to the television set for a quick second, and then she gave Spike another look. “I'm going to bed.” She walked away from him and Spike followed her just to the foot of the staircase. He watched her ascend the stairs in her black dress, gliding her hand along the wobbly railing while she took one slow step at a time, and it reminded him of Drusilla. The semblance between the two brought gooseflesh out on Spike's arms.
Buffy's hiss called him out of his thoughts.
“What happened?”
Buffy turned to him with her brows furrowed and a pout. It was the first time she actually looked like Buffy. She went back down to the foot of the stairs and showed him her hand.
Spike gulped when he saw a splinter stuck in the palm of her hand, which was now only a few inches from his nose, the metallic aroma inviting him to taste the blood of a Slayer once more. Buffy's lips slowly stretched to a mischievous curl. “I hurt my hand.”
“Let's take care of that,” he said in a tight voice as he pulled her by the hand up to the second floor. “Y-you should be careful around here. Place is a mess. Lots of splinters, broken glass here and there.”
They entered the bathroom and Spike rifled through the cabinet for the first aid kit. Buffy watched, amused by how she'd shaken him up with just a drop of her blood. Spike hesitantly held her hand as he removed the splinter and began to disinfect the wound, dabbing at gently. “I guess we need to take care of this too,” he said, noticing the wounds on her knuckles.
After he'd bandaged her hands, he carefully placed them down at her sides, as if she were Miss Edith and made of porcelain.
“Get some rest.” Spike started for the door but Buffy's predatory voice stopped him.
“I know you want my blood.”
Spike froze at the door with his back to her. He knew there was going to be trouble when he heard the sound of a zipper opening.
He spun around and saw Buffy stripped of her clothes. Her cat-like eyes tempted him to ravage her right there; just the sight of her pursed lips made him painfully hard.
Hastily averting his eyes, Spike saw her dress on the floor and picked it up. He raised his hand and gave her back her clothes, with his eyes still downcast, and chose to say nothing.
Buffy grabbed her clothes. She hugged her dress over the front of her exposed body and in a harsh tone asked, “Who do you think you're fooling with this hero crap? You're a killer. Just like me.”
Spike, head still bent, slowly lifted his gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you?” His eyes burned with tears that he tried to hold back. He fisted his hands and gazed into her soulless eyes.
“Deal with it.” she said firmly. She turned to the tub and turned the faucet on.
Spike's nails carved half-moons into his shaking palms as he stood there, unmoving. Buffy had come back wrong. She'd been resurrected somehow, and there were grave consequences. The only possible explanation he could think of was magic – the kind that shouldn’t be messed with. And there was only one of the Scoobies who was powerful enough, and now maybe stupid enough, to dabble with such dark magics.
His eyes widened and he clenched his hands. “Willow,” he whispered with a grunt.
Buffy spun around when she heard Spike was still there. “Are you going to just stand there and watch me take a bath?”
“I'll get your room ready for you.” Spike walked out of the bathroom, teeth clenched in anger, and closed the door behind him. He went into Buffy's room and cleared the bed of Willow's things. He then made his way down the stairs, mind reeling, and wandered back into the living room. Needing to calm down, he sat on the sofa, wringing his hands between his knees, breathing deeply. As his tension eased, he began to notice the sounds coming from upstairs. The water splashed softly and Buffy was humming; he couldn't help but imagine her in the tub. He chuckled disdainfully at his thoughts.
The longer Buffy spent in the bath, the more time he had to consider his options. When he heard the water rush through the pipes, he knew bath time was over. Moments later, the bathroom door opened. He stood up and went to the living room threshold, bracing himself for another confrontation. He was relieved when he heard Buffy’s footsteps cross the hall instead of toward the staircase. A door closed, and he cocked his head, listening carefully, waiting. A few minutes later, he heard her heartbeat and breathing slow and fall into a steady rhythm. He was certain she had fallen asleep and quickly headed for the desk where the phone was. He couldn’t waste the opportunity to act. He needed some answers from the witch fast. He needed to know how she'd bargained for Buffy's life back. What did Willow give up, what did she get from it, and what had Buffy lost?
He opened the address book beside the phone and looked up the number for Angel Investigations. He picked up the phone and dialed.
A cheery woman answered. “Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. How can we help you?”
Spike gripped the telephone and began to rethink his decision to call Willow. He was sure that she'd be running to Peaches in an instant, asking for help. They’d be saving Buffy when he should be the one to do it. His mouth opened, but only a strangled croak came out.
A crease formed between Cordelia’s eyes while she twirled the phone's cord in her fingers. “Hello?”
“Is Red there?” Spike quickly asked. He wanted to know what was going on, and if Willow was responsible for Buffy’s resurrection, she was his best hope for getting answers. So, sod his better judgment. If Willow did tell Angel and the wanker decided to help, then so be it. It was for Buffy, after all.
“Who?” Cordelia asked.
“Willow. Is she there?”
“Who's calling?”
The muscle in Spike's jaw ticked. This was harder than he expected. “It's Spike.”
“Spike? The Spike? You're using a phone?” Cordelia asked incredulously, ignoring the annoyed tone in Spike's voice.
Spike's jaw tightened even more. He didn't have time for such dilly-dallying. “Yes, I'm using a bloody phone! Now can I please speak with Willow?”
“Okay, okay. Jeez.”
About a minute later, after asking Cordelia if she was pulling a prank on her, Willow picked up the phone. “Spike?”
Spike hastily got to why he’d called. He'd wasted enough time already and if he was going to save Buffy from whatever deal Willow had made with the dark forces, he needed to move fast. “How'd you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You bloody well know what,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I don't know—”
“Did they take her soul? Did they make her half a demon? What was the deal?”
“Oh my God!” Willow gasped. “She's...” She didn't speak for a few moments, too surprised with what she'd just learned. “It worked?”
Spike was tapping his foot impatiently. “What worked?”
“I—It was just a resurrection spell. I didn't make any deal or--”
Before Willow had a chance to explain further, Spike hung up the phone. Shaking his head, he gripped the edge of the table. He leaned forward and ducked his head. He believed Willow, but what she’d done was still wrong. He was beyond happy that Buffy was alive but the thing about magic was that there were always consequences. Always. And now? Buffy had come back wrong.
Chapter 4
Betas: DawnofMe and Tanit
The mix of emotions Spike was feeling as he hung up the phone made him crave either blood or violence, or preferably both. He rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a pack of blood from the refrigerator and morphed into his vampire visage. Taking out his anger on the packet, he immediately sank his teeth into it and ravenously guzzled every last drop of blood. With blood in the corners of his mouth and on his hands, he somberly walked over to the sink to wash up and compose himself.
He walked to the kitchen island and took a seat on one of the stools, resting his elbows on the island and burying his face in his palms. He had not the slightest clue what to do about Buffy. A bit calm again, he suddenly noticed that he wasn't able to hear Buffy's heartbeat or breathing any more. He jerked his head up, alarmed.
He quickly headed upstairs, straight to Buffy's room, the one Red had occupied when Buffy was... He stopped himself from even thinking about what had happened to her. He feared that if he did, he would wake up and find himself only dreaming, only having a nightmare. And what a nightmare the night has been so far. But the fact still remained that he wouldn't trade Buffy's life for anything.
Spike slowly and carefully turned the knob and pushed the door open. When he saw that no one was on the bed, he flicked the light on and walked in. She wasn't there.
He looked around the room and saw that the window was open. He was fairly sure it had been closed before. “Damn it!” he said with a grunt when he realized Buffy must have slipped out the window. He ran a hand through his hair, blaming himself for not hearing her sneak out. He was a vampire, enhanced hearing and all, for Christ's sake. He never should have let his anger at Willow cloud his thinking.
He walked further into the room and remembered the night the Scoobies decided to leave. Willow had been packing when he passed by the open door. Had he not seen her, he knew they wouldn’t even have told him they were leaving. Maybe the little bit would have, but not the others. Not even after everything they'd been through.
The witch promised him they were coming back and to prove it, she'd taken out a few pieces of clothing from her bag and tossed them on the bed. “See?” she'd said with that adorably awkward smile. And he’d believed her; if he hadn't, he would have been long gone from Sunnyhell.
He would have been long gone from Sunnydale and wouldn't have seen Buffy again. Wouldn't have known that she’d come back. And for that alone, he was glad that he stayed.
Willow had also left a few candles, some of her books, and other odds and ends, all of which he'd dumped on the floor.
An old, large text lying in the center of the empty bed caught his attention. He sat on the edge of the bed and when he lifted the book into his lap, some pages fell out. The text on the loose pages were written in a language he'd never seen. The crease between his eyebrows deepened and he wondered what Buffy could want with the cryptic-looking text.
He hurriedly stormed out of the room, torn pages in hand, and descended the stairs. He went back into the living room to grab his coat from the sofa where he had left it, and started towards the front door. A flicker of light shone through the curtain; the sun was rising. He slumped his shoulders and muttered, “Great. Perfect timing.”
He paced across the living room, wondering what he could do. If it was back in the old days when demons and other vampires didn't want to kill him, he could have been in the sewers already, asking around, finding out what the pages meant. But he had no allies left, except for the Scoobies, and they’d decided to leave the minute things went from bad to worse.
He sat down, exhaled sharply, and concentrated on the text, concentrated on the text, hoping something would spark a memory to help him puzzle out what the pages said. After a few moments of staring cluelessly at the pages, he stood up with a frustrated roar and began to pace once again. He walked to the house's threshold, wanting to go out and do something. Find Buffy or someone to help him translate the mystery text. He put his hand on the doorknob, but held back. He wasn’t going to do anyone any good if he were a pile of dust.
The doorknob turned under his hand, and he hastily stepped back, preparing to fight. The door swung open and he was surprised to see Buffy standing in the doorway. She glanced at the pages in his hand with a look of surprise and anger.
Caught off guard, Spike wasn’t prepared when a fist came flying at his face. He stumbled back, his hand reaching up to cover his nose. “What the... What was that for?” His mouth gaped while Buffy walked past him into the house. She'd found her clothes – the slutty looking ones which reminded him of the body switch Buffy had told him about – and had put them on. She had also brushed her hair back into the bouncy shampoo commercial hair it was once.
“For snooping around my stuff.” Buffy spun around to face him, eyes still narrowed at the papers in his hand possessively.
Spike tightened his grip on the bunch, which crumpled its edges. He held them up, waving them before her, and argued, “Well, technically, these aren't yours, are they?” She didn't answer. He sighed and put his hand down, not breaking their gaze. “Something's wrong with you, Slayer. The magics Willow used to bring you back --”
Buffy's face lit up, like something clicked in her mind. “Willow. You talked to her?”
“Yeah, and by the sound of her voice when I told her that you're alive, I reckon she'll be here in a few hours.”
“She's a witch,” she suddenly stated, as if she'd only realized it. “And she's smart.”
Spike cocked his head to the side. Buffy sounded almost like the BuffyBot, minus the funny smile and enthusiastic tone. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Where have you been?”
Buffy looked at him squarely. “Heaven.”
Spike eyes widened and his jaw dropped. His hand loosened on the pages as complete realization hit him.
Buffy saw the opportunity, snatched the pages from Spike’s hand, and started to head out. “Find me when Willow has come back.”
Spike tried to catch his breath from what he'd just learned. That little bit of information explained so much. Maybe Buffy had been so angry that she was pulled out of heaven that she'd turned into a monster. Maybe it didn't have to do with magic after all. Getting over the shock, he stopped Buffy by the wrist. “Slayer, we have to talk about this.”
“We have nothing to talk about, Spike,” she said while she tried to free herself from Spike's grip.
“I know what you're up to.”
One eyebrow was raised as she smirked. “Do you?” She knew he hadn't the faintest idea.
“I know it's nothing good. You've gotten yourself a bleeding cohort of demons!”
“What I do is none of your business.”
Spike put up a shaky hand and cupped her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “It is. I'm here for you, love, and if you'll just let me help --”
She slapped his arm away. “I was told that you'd be a major pain in the ass.”
Spike tilted his head and let go of her wrist. “What?”
Buffy's gaze shifted, and instead of answering, she punched him square in the jaw. Spike fell back onto the first steps of the stairs and groaned when his body hit its edges. As he slumped to his knees on the floor, he looked up at Buffy and saw pure anger in her glassy eyes.
A knee flew to the side of his head and he fell to the side. He panted when Buffy hauled him up by the shirt. “That's right, just let it out. Let it all out,” he said.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” she whispered, throwing him across the living room and he landed on the coffee table – one of the few things which was still whole in the entire house.
She was stronger, he noticed. He could barely stand on his wobbly legs when he managed to get up. “Did some training in heaven, did you?”
Buffy placed the papers on the stairs near Spike's coat, walked toward him and said, “Something like that.” She did a roundhouse kick, and Spike landed on his back again. She straddled him and began punching him with abandon, her body trembling with rage.
When Spike’s body lay limp, only moving with each successive blow, and once she'd gotten over her rage, Buffy stood up. “Nosy little son of a bitch!” She flipped her hair, grabbed the papers she came back for and left without looking back.
The mix of emotions Spike was feeling as he hung up the phone made him crave either blood or violence, or preferably both. He rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a pack of blood from the refrigerator and morphed into his vampire visage. Taking out his anger on the packet, he immediately sank his teeth into it and ravenously guzzled every last drop of blood. With blood in the corners of his mouth and on his hands, he somberly walked over to the sink to wash up and compose himself.
He walked to the kitchen island and took a seat on one of the stools, resting his elbows on the island and burying his face in his palms. He had not the slightest clue what to do about Buffy. A bit calm again, he suddenly noticed that he wasn't able to hear Buffy's heartbeat or breathing any more. He jerked his head up, alarmed.
He quickly headed upstairs, straight to Buffy's room, the one Red had occupied when Buffy was... He stopped himself from even thinking about what had happened to her. He feared that if he did, he would wake up and find himself only dreaming, only having a nightmare. And what a nightmare the night has been so far. But the fact still remained that he wouldn't trade Buffy's life for anything.
Spike slowly and carefully turned the knob and pushed the door open. When he saw that no one was on the bed, he flicked the light on and walked in. She wasn't there.
He looked around the room and saw that the window was open. He was fairly sure it had been closed before. “Damn it!” he said with a grunt when he realized Buffy must have slipped out the window. He ran a hand through his hair, blaming himself for not hearing her sneak out. He was a vampire, enhanced hearing and all, for Christ's sake. He never should have let his anger at Willow cloud his thinking.
He walked further into the room and remembered the night the Scoobies decided to leave. Willow had been packing when he passed by the open door. Had he not seen her, he knew they wouldn’t even have told him they were leaving. Maybe the little bit would have, but not the others. Not even after everything they'd been through.
The witch promised him they were coming back and to prove it, she'd taken out a few pieces of clothing from her bag and tossed them on the bed. “See?” she'd said with that adorably awkward smile. And he’d believed her; if he hadn't, he would have been long gone from Sunnyhell.
He would have been long gone from Sunnydale and wouldn't have seen Buffy again. Wouldn't have known that she’d come back. And for that alone, he was glad that he stayed.
Willow had also left a few candles, some of her books, and other odds and ends, all of which he'd dumped on the floor.
An old, large text lying in the center of the empty bed caught his attention. He sat on the edge of the bed and when he lifted the book into his lap, some pages fell out. The text on the loose pages were written in a language he'd never seen. The crease between his eyebrows deepened and he wondered what Buffy could want with the cryptic-looking text.
He hurriedly stormed out of the room, torn pages in hand, and descended the stairs. He went back into the living room to grab his coat from the sofa where he had left it, and started towards the front door. A flicker of light shone through the curtain; the sun was rising. He slumped his shoulders and muttered, “Great. Perfect timing.”
He paced across the living room, wondering what he could do. If it was back in the old days when demons and other vampires didn't want to kill him, he could have been in the sewers already, asking around, finding out what the pages meant. But he had no allies left, except for the Scoobies, and they’d decided to leave the minute things went from bad to worse.
He sat down, exhaled sharply, and concentrated on the text, concentrated on the text, hoping something would spark a memory to help him puzzle out what the pages said. After a few moments of staring cluelessly at the pages, he stood up with a frustrated roar and began to pace once again. He walked to the house's threshold, wanting to go out and do something. Find Buffy or someone to help him translate the mystery text. He put his hand on the doorknob, but held back. He wasn’t going to do anyone any good if he were a pile of dust.
The doorknob turned under his hand, and he hastily stepped back, preparing to fight. The door swung open and he was surprised to see Buffy standing in the doorway. She glanced at the pages in his hand with a look of surprise and anger.
Caught off guard, Spike wasn’t prepared when a fist came flying at his face. He stumbled back, his hand reaching up to cover his nose. “What the... What was that for?” His mouth gaped while Buffy walked past him into the house. She'd found her clothes – the slutty looking ones which reminded him of the body switch Buffy had told him about – and had put them on. She had also brushed her hair back into the bouncy shampoo commercial hair it was once.
“For snooping around my stuff.” Buffy spun around to face him, eyes still narrowed at the papers in his hand possessively.
Spike tightened his grip on the bunch, which crumpled its edges. He held them up, waving them before her, and argued, “Well, technically, these aren't yours, are they?” She didn't answer. He sighed and put his hand down, not breaking their gaze. “Something's wrong with you, Slayer. The magics Willow used to bring you back --”
Buffy's face lit up, like something clicked in her mind. “Willow. You talked to her?”
“Yeah, and by the sound of her voice when I told her that you're alive, I reckon she'll be here in a few hours.”
“She's a witch,” she suddenly stated, as if she'd only realized it. “And she's smart.”
Spike cocked his head to the side. Buffy sounded almost like the BuffyBot, minus the funny smile and enthusiastic tone. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Where have you been?”
Buffy looked at him squarely. “Heaven.”
Spike eyes widened and his jaw dropped. His hand loosened on the pages as complete realization hit him.
Buffy saw the opportunity, snatched the pages from Spike’s hand, and started to head out. “Find me when Willow has come back.”
Spike tried to catch his breath from what he'd just learned. That little bit of information explained so much. Maybe Buffy had been so angry that she was pulled out of heaven that she'd turned into a monster. Maybe it didn't have to do with magic after all. Getting over the shock, he stopped Buffy by the wrist. “Slayer, we have to talk about this.”
“We have nothing to talk about, Spike,” she said while she tried to free herself from Spike's grip.
“I know what you're up to.”
One eyebrow was raised as she smirked. “Do you?” She knew he hadn't the faintest idea.
“I know it's nothing good. You've gotten yourself a bleeding cohort of demons!”
“What I do is none of your business.”
Spike put up a shaky hand and cupped her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “It is. I'm here for you, love, and if you'll just let me help --”
She slapped his arm away. “I was told that you'd be a major pain in the ass.”
Spike tilted his head and let go of her wrist. “What?”
Buffy's gaze shifted, and instead of answering, she punched him square in the jaw. Spike fell back onto the first steps of the stairs and groaned when his body hit its edges. As he slumped to his knees on the floor, he looked up at Buffy and saw pure anger in her glassy eyes.
A knee flew to the side of his head and he fell to the side. He panted when Buffy hauled him up by the shirt. “That's right, just let it out. Let it all out,” he said.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” she whispered, throwing him across the living room and he landed on the coffee table – one of the few things which was still whole in the entire house.
She was stronger, he noticed. He could barely stand on his wobbly legs when he managed to get up. “Did some training in heaven, did you?”
Buffy placed the papers on the stairs near Spike's coat, walked toward him and said, “Something like that.” She did a roundhouse kick, and Spike landed on his back again. She straddled him and began punching him with abandon, her body trembling with rage.
When Spike’s body lay limp, only moving with each successive blow, and once she'd gotten over her rage, Buffy stood up. “Nosy little son of a bitch!” She flipped her hair, grabbed the papers she came back for and left without looking back.
Chapter 5
The chilling air had dried the crimson mark on Spike's lip from when Buffy had badly beaten him. He was more pallid than usual, which emphasized the few cuts and bruises around his eyes and on his bottom lip. Willow was huddled over him with her lips pursed together in a rigid line as she shook him slightly to wake him up.
“Spike... Spike, wake up.”
The fucking ground's shaking, Spike thought. Maybe the world's ending. He slowly returned to consciousness, regretting it a little bit, and heard a female voice calling his name. He forced his eyes open as wide as he could with his heavily bruised lids. “Willow?” he asked in a gruff voice he hardly recognized as his own. Everything was still a haze as he propped himself up on his elbows. He'd never felt heavier.
He groaned and winced; the pain was unbearable. The person Willow brought back from the dead wasn't the Slayer. She wasn't Buffy.
Willow slipped one hand behind Spike's back, one hand under his elbow and helped him sit up. “What happened? Where's Buffy?”
Spike shook his head slowly from side to side. “Don't know,” he answered vacantly.
“Did she do this to you?” Her eyes were hopeful and scared at the same time. If Buffy had come back wrong, it was her fault. It meant that she had messed up and that she needed to be the one to fix it. Her hands trembled and she let go of Spike.
The corners of Willow's pink lips dimpled in the beginnings of a smile when Spike snapped out of his daze and shook his head. He looked at her straight in the eyes for the first time. “She's gone daft... all thanks to you.” Spike's voice was spiteful and cold.
Willow frowned and shrunk back, her eyes losing the glint of hope. She sat on her heels and put her hands on her thighs. “What do you mean?”
“She's not Buffy. She's not...” He trailed off, eyes downcast, and took a deep breath. He looked up at Willow again while he clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. “If you saw her...”
The fear in Spike's eyes rendered Willow speechless. It wasn't everyday that one could see Spike, the Big Bad, afraid. She didn't know what to say. All she could think of was that she was to blame for everything. If she hadn't insisted that they bring her back...
But it would have been worse if Buffy spent eternity in hell.
Biting back the tears welling up in her eyes, she said in a quiet voice, “Come on,” and helped Spike stand up. She walked him over to what was left of the couch and sat him on a part where no springs were protruding.
Spike looked behind Willow to see if any of the Scoobies, and Angel in particular, were with her. He saw no one, and wondered if she’d brought anyone at all, or if she’d even told anyone what was happening. He realized that if they found out and saw Buffy as she was now, they'd blame Willow, and he knew she couldn't bear that. “Came here alone, did you?” His voice was barely audible but it was clearly scornful.
Willow averted her eyes and stood up as straight as she could, even though shame was eating at her. “I-I didn't tell them yet.”
“And why is that?”
“I-I plan to. Just not now. I w-wanted to see it for myself first.”
“I suppose that includes checking the merchandise; see if she's working properly. And returning it if it's defective. Is that it?” Spike coughed but didn't look away from the witch.
Willow let out a shaky sigh and shrugged, as if Spike should have understood what she was trying to say. “Spike, if she did this to you...”
It was far from the truth, the explanation Spike thought up. But if it was going to stop Willow from doing something utterly stupid again, like taking Buffy's life just because she was treading on the dark side now, then he had to say it. It didn't matter that he was still too tired to give a long speech.
“I'm a creature she loathes. She didn't have any problem putting me in a wheelchair back then; she shouldn't have a problem beating me to a bloody pulp now.” He paused. “I'd wager she's just angry and she put it all on me because I was the only one here.” Willow winced and dipped her head as Spike's comment hit home. Ignoring her shamed gesture, Spike continued. “And I let her. She's been through enough, being pulled out of heaven and all.”
Willow jerked her head up to face Spike. Her eyes were instantly brimming with tears and her hands shook even more. “W-what?”
Spike shook his head in disbelief. “You were the one to sentence her to hell. This. This is hell. And you sent her here.”
Willow's lips quivered as she tugged on the hem of her light blue blouse. “Bu--But I didn't...” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I thought... Oh God, I have to find her!” Not waiting for a response, Willow hurriedly left the house.
Spike remembered the look in Buffy's eyes when she said that Willow was a witch. Right then, he realized she didn't need Willow for a hug or for girl talk. “No, Red, wait!” But it was too late. Spike dropped down, face first, on the floor. He'd just delivered Buffy what she needed. God only knew what Buffy wanted with a witch, especially now that she was holding on to some cryptic text. He was a complete idiot for not putting two and two together sooner. “Bloody hell.”
Hell. This is hell. The words reverberated through Willow's mind, haunting her, as she wandered the deserted streets of Sunnydale, unarmed, alone and helpless. She didn't exactly know where she was going, or what she really hoped to find. She'd fled the Summers' house wanting to find Buffy, but now, she wasn't too sure. Willow didn't know if she could bear to face her friend after what she'd done.
“Huh. The vampire works fast,” said a voice Willow knew all too well. “I thought he'd still be unconscious.”
The redhead spun around and saw her best friend. She forgot every qualm and smiled widely in happiness and amazement. “Buffy?”
“Yup. That's me. Buffy.” Buffy’s voice was casual.
“It's really you!”
“Yup. It's really me.”
Willow bounded to Buffy, tears streaming down her bright pink cheeks, and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Buffy. I've missed you so much!”
Buffy stood still and wrapped her arms clumsily around Willow. Her nose scrunched up in annoyance and she awkwardly tapped Willow's back three times. “There, there,” she said monotonously.
“I can't believe you're really here.”
“You should.” Buffy tried to pull away from Willow's tight embrace, rolling her eyes and dropping her arms to her sides when Willow wouldn't let her. “You're the one who brought me back.”
Willow pulled away and started in an apologetic voice, “I'm so--”
“And I want to thank you for that. But now, I just need you to do one more little,” Buffy held up her hand and put about an inch of space between her thumb and her forefinger, “favor for me.”
Willow's face lit up as she said, “Anything.”
It was a promise she would soon come to regret.
“Spike... Spike, wake up.”
The fucking ground's shaking, Spike thought. Maybe the world's ending. He slowly returned to consciousness, regretting it a little bit, and heard a female voice calling his name. He forced his eyes open as wide as he could with his heavily bruised lids. “Willow?” he asked in a gruff voice he hardly recognized as his own. Everything was still a haze as he propped himself up on his elbows. He'd never felt heavier.
He groaned and winced; the pain was unbearable. The person Willow brought back from the dead wasn't the Slayer. She wasn't Buffy.
Willow slipped one hand behind Spike's back, one hand under his elbow and helped him sit up. “What happened? Where's Buffy?”
Spike shook his head slowly from side to side. “Don't know,” he answered vacantly.
“Did she do this to you?” Her eyes were hopeful and scared at the same time. If Buffy had come back wrong, it was her fault. It meant that she had messed up and that she needed to be the one to fix it. Her hands trembled and she let go of Spike.
The corners of Willow's pink lips dimpled in the beginnings of a smile when Spike snapped out of his daze and shook his head. He looked at her straight in the eyes for the first time. “She's gone daft... all thanks to you.” Spike's voice was spiteful and cold.
Willow frowned and shrunk back, her eyes losing the glint of hope. She sat on her heels and put her hands on her thighs. “What do you mean?”
“She's not Buffy. She's not...” He trailed off, eyes downcast, and took a deep breath. He looked up at Willow again while he clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. “If you saw her...”
The fear in Spike's eyes rendered Willow speechless. It wasn't everyday that one could see Spike, the Big Bad, afraid. She didn't know what to say. All she could think of was that she was to blame for everything. If she hadn't insisted that they bring her back...
But it would have been worse if Buffy spent eternity in hell.
Biting back the tears welling up in her eyes, she said in a quiet voice, “Come on,” and helped Spike stand up. She walked him over to what was left of the couch and sat him on a part where no springs were protruding.
Spike looked behind Willow to see if any of the Scoobies, and Angel in particular, were with her. He saw no one, and wondered if she’d brought anyone at all, or if she’d even told anyone what was happening. He realized that if they found out and saw Buffy as she was now, they'd blame Willow, and he knew she couldn't bear that. “Came here alone, did you?” His voice was barely audible but it was clearly scornful.
Willow averted her eyes and stood up as straight as she could, even though shame was eating at her. “I-I didn't tell them yet.”
“And why is that?”
“I-I plan to. Just not now. I w-wanted to see it for myself first.”
“I suppose that includes checking the merchandise; see if she's working properly. And returning it if it's defective. Is that it?” Spike coughed but didn't look away from the witch.
Willow let out a shaky sigh and shrugged, as if Spike should have understood what she was trying to say. “Spike, if she did this to you...”
It was far from the truth, the explanation Spike thought up. But if it was going to stop Willow from doing something utterly stupid again, like taking Buffy's life just because she was treading on the dark side now, then he had to say it. It didn't matter that he was still too tired to give a long speech.
“I'm a creature she loathes. She didn't have any problem putting me in a wheelchair back then; she shouldn't have a problem beating me to a bloody pulp now.” He paused. “I'd wager she's just angry and she put it all on me because I was the only one here.” Willow winced and dipped her head as Spike's comment hit home. Ignoring her shamed gesture, Spike continued. “And I let her. She's been through enough, being pulled out of heaven and all.”
Willow jerked her head up to face Spike. Her eyes were instantly brimming with tears and her hands shook even more. “W-what?”
Spike shook his head in disbelief. “You were the one to sentence her to hell. This. This is hell. And you sent her here.”
Willow's lips quivered as she tugged on the hem of her light blue blouse. “Bu--But I didn't...” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I thought... Oh God, I have to find her!” Not waiting for a response, Willow hurriedly left the house.
Spike remembered the look in Buffy's eyes when she said that Willow was a witch. Right then, he realized she didn't need Willow for a hug or for girl talk. “No, Red, wait!” But it was too late. Spike dropped down, face first, on the floor. He'd just delivered Buffy what she needed. God only knew what Buffy wanted with a witch, especially now that she was holding on to some cryptic text. He was a complete idiot for not putting two and two together sooner. “Bloody hell.”
Hell. This is hell. The words reverberated through Willow's mind, haunting her, as she wandered the deserted streets of Sunnydale, unarmed, alone and helpless. She didn't exactly know where she was going, or what she really hoped to find. She'd fled the Summers' house wanting to find Buffy, but now, she wasn't too sure. Willow didn't know if she could bear to face her friend after what she'd done.
“Huh. The vampire works fast,” said a voice Willow knew all too well. “I thought he'd still be unconscious.”
The redhead spun around and saw her best friend. She forgot every qualm and smiled widely in happiness and amazement. “Buffy?”
“Yup. That's me. Buffy.” Buffy’s voice was casual.
“It's really you!”
“Yup. It's really me.”
Willow bounded to Buffy, tears streaming down her bright pink cheeks, and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Buffy. I've missed you so much!”
Buffy stood still and wrapped her arms clumsily around Willow. Her nose scrunched up in annoyance and she awkwardly tapped Willow's back three times. “There, there,” she said monotonously.
“I can't believe you're really here.”
“You should.” Buffy tried to pull away from Willow's tight embrace, rolling her eyes and dropping her arms to her sides when Willow wouldn't let her. “You're the one who brought me back.”
Willow pulled away and started in an apologetic voice, “I'm so--”
“And I want to thank you for that. But now, I just need you to do one more little,” Buffy held up her hand and put about an inch of space between her thumb and her forefinger, “favor for me.”
Willow's face lit up as she said, “Anything.”
It was a promise she would soon come to regret.
Chapter 6
Apart from the distant screams, the cemetery was quiet that morning. Willow had still been apprehensive about going to a cemetery even though it was broad daylight and Buffy was there if some demon attacked them. Buffy had told her that she needed something from Spike's crypt. She reluctantly went with her and waited outside the crypt while Buffy retrieved what she wanted to show her.
With forehead creased, Willow hesitantly took the pieces of old parchment Buffy was handing her. “When I said 'anything', I didn't think you'd be asking me to do something like this,” she said. Her voice gave away her worry as she skimmed over the pages. She'd seen the text once or twice while flipping through one of the older books she owned, and she knew what it would do. She had no idea why Buffy would want to do such a thing.
“But you brought me back to life,” Buffy replied, as if that were reason enough for Willow to do it. “You harnessed powerful forces.”
Willow glanced up from the papers with brows quirked. “B-but that's d-different. I did that f-for you. A-and for the greater good.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, pushed herself off the tombstone she had sat on after handing Willow the papers and turned her back to the witch. “Oh, cut the crap, Will.” She took a couple steps away before spinning around to face her again. “You know you only did it for yourself.”
Willow shook her head, gazing at Buffy with disbelief. It seemed like she was a completely different person. Though she had seen the look on Spike's face when he talked about how different Buffy was, she didn't expect it to be this extreme. She'd bought Spike's whole speech about Buffy only being able to put all her anger on him because she hated him but her problem seemed to be more than just about being angry. “Why are you doing this?”
“I'm doing this for the greater good,” Buffy said, mocking Willow. She chuckled dryly.
Willow raised her hand and handed the text back to Buffy. She didn't want any part of this, however glad she was that one of her dearest friends was alive. “I-I'm not doing this. I'm sorry, Buffy. You're my best friend and I'm more than happy you're back but this... This is just wrong.”
Buffy grabbed the papers from Willow's hands and then placed her hands on her hips. With an eyebrow raised, she said sternly, “You don't have a choice.”
Willow gulped and, feigning bravery, stood up tall and lifted her chin. “W-what are you gonna d-do? Tie me up a-and force me t-to do it?” The way her voice trembled and how awkwardly she stood before the slayer were enough to give her away.
An evil smile slowly crept across Buffy's face as she tilted her head to one side and folded her arms across her front.
Willow's mouth hung open. “No... You couldn't.” She stepped back, unable to believe what was happening.
“A lot has changed since you revived me and left me to claw myself out of my grave.” Buffy took one step toward Willow.
“I-I didn't know. W-we thought it didn't work,” Willow said as tears filled her eyes. “A mob of demons attacked us before we even finished!”
“Well, it did and this is what you created. Are you happy now, witch?”
Shaking her head, Willow stepped back farther to get away from the slayer who was now advancing towards her, only to back into two demons that were standing behind her. She turned around and saw two scaly yellow monsters. They grabbed her by the arms, and she faced Buffy again. “You don't want to do this, Buffy.” One of the demons placed its hand over Willow's mouth and muffled her screams.
“I really do,” said Buffy while she watched the demons take Willow into Spike's crypt.
Willow's hands were cuffed to the chains hanging on the wall and there were about five demons guarding her. She let out a muffled cry and tried to speak through the gag in her mouth.
“If you just went along with my plan, you wouldn't be in this position,” Buffy tightened the cuffs on Willow's wrists and she winced “now, would you?”
Willow tugged at her bonds in an effort to free herself. She swallowed as she tried to calm down and stop trembling. She gazed into Buffy's glazed over eyes; this wasn't the Buffy she knew.
Rolling her eyes when she saw a tear roll down Willow's cheek, Buffy spun around and signaled to one demon. The demon handed her a syringe filled with a clear liquid. Willow glanced at it and grimaced.
“We don't want you casting any spells,” Buffy whispered and took the syringe from the demon's hand. “Well, at least, not yet.”
Willow gasped anxiously and her eyes widened as Buffy approached her, holding the syringe up.
“Relax. This is just demon venom I got from Charlie over there,” Buffy said, pointing at the demon with a long, black, needle-like mouth, with fluids dripping from its tip.
When she saw the needle nearing her shoulder, Willow began to struggle against her restraints more, grunting while she pulled on the chains. As if anyone except for the demons could hear her, she tried to scream through the gag.
The slayer grabbed Willow's face with one hand, pulling her toward her as close as the bonds would allow. “Stop moving so much or this will hurt a lot more,” she said through gritted teeth.
Willow only whimpered when Buffy quickly stuck the needle in her left arm. A few seconds later, everything began to blur. Her head was spinning and she was getting woozy. Her body felt heavy. “Don't worry. The venom won't kill you. It will wear off after a few hours,” was the last thing she heard Buffy say.
“Hopefully.” Buffy chuckled.
Running his hands through his hair while he limped back and forth on the threshold, Spike cursed the daylight. He wanted to go out there and look for Willow.
She had been gone for a few hours now and Buffy hadn't come back, either. He feared that some demon got to Willow, or worse, that Buffy had. Either way, she was in danger and he delivered her right to it. Granted, Red was becoming a fairly powerful witch, raising the dead and all, but he just knew she wouldn't stand a chance against the slayer, especially one who didn't seem to know or care what was right from wrong.
He stopped walking and sighed. He sat on the third step of the stairs, groaning, and buried his face in his palms. He winced when his hands hit his bruises. He hoped the witch would come bursting through the door at any minute. He waited. It was all he could do.
With forehead creased, Willow hesitantly took the pieces of old parchment Buffy was handing her. “When I said 'anything', I didn't think you'd be asking me to do something like this,” she said. Her voice gave away her worry as she skimmed over the pages. She'd seen the text once or twice while flipping through one of the older books she owned, and she knew what it would do. She had no idea why Buffy would want to do such a thing.
“But you brought me back to life,” Buffy replied, as if that were reason enough for Willow to do it. “You harnessed powerful forces.”
Willow glanced up from the papers with brows quirked. “B-but that's d-different. I did that f-for you. A-and for the greater good.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, pushed herself off the tombstone she had sat on after handing Willow the papers and turned her back to the witch. “Oh, cut the crap, Will.” She took a couple steps away before spinning around to face her again. “You know you only did it for yourself.”
Willow shook her head, gazing at Buffy with disbelief. It seemed like she was a completely different person. Though she had seen the look on Spike's face when he talked about how different Buffy was, she didn't expect it to be this extreme. She'd bought Spike's whole speech about Buffy only being able to put all her anger on him because she hated him but her problem seemed to be more than just about being angry. “Why are you doing this?”
“I'm doing this for the greater good,” Buffy said, mocking Willow. She chuckled dryly.
Willow raised her hand and handed the text back to Buffy. She didn't want any part of this, however glad she was that one of her dearest friends was alive. “I-I'm not doing this. I'm sorry, Buffy. You're my best friend and I'm more than happy you're back but this... This is just wrong.”
Buffy grabbed the papers from Willow's hands and then placed her hands on her hips. With an eyebrow raised, she said sternly, “You don't have a choice.”
Willow gulped and, feigning bravery, stood up tall and lifted her chin. “W-what are you gonna d-do? Tie me up a-and force me t-to do it?” The way her voice trembled and how awkwardly she stood before the slayer were enough to give her away.
An evil smile slowly crept across Buffy's face as she tilted her head to one side and folded her arms across her front.
Willow's mouth hung open. “No... You couldn't.” She stepped back, unable to believe what was happening.
“A lot has changed since you revived me and left me to claw myself out of my grave.” Buffy took one step toward Willow.
“I-I didn't know. W-we thought it didn't work,” Willow said as tears filled her eyes. “A mob of demons attacked us before we even finished!”
“Well, it did and this is what you created. Are you happy now, witch?”
Shaking her head, Willow stepped back farther to get away from the slayer who was now advancing towards her, only to back into two demons that were standing behind her. She turned around and saw two scaly yellow monsters. They grabbed her by the arms, and she faced Buffy again. “You don't want to do this, Buffy.” One of the demons placed its hand over Willow's mouth and muffled her screams.
“I really do,” said Buffy while she watched the demons take Willow into Spike's crypt.
Willow's hands were cuffed to the chains hanging on the wall and there were about five demons guarding her. She let out a muffled cry and tried to speak through the gag in her mouth.
“If you just went along with my plan, you wouldn't be in this position,” Buffy tightened the cuffs on Willow's wrists and she winced “now, would you?”
Willow tugged at her bonds in an effort to free herself. She swallowed as she tried to calm down and stop trembling. She gazed into Buffy's glazed over eyes; this wasn't the Buffy she knew.
Rolling her eyes when she saw a tear roll down Willow's cheek, Buffy spun around and signaled to one demon. The demon handed her a syringe filled with a clear liquid. Willow glanced at it and grimaced.
“We don't want you casting any spells,” Buffy whispered and took the syringe from the demon's hand. “Well, at least, not yet.”
Willow gasped anxiously and her eyes widened as Buffy approached her, holding the syringe up.
“Relax. This is just demon venom I got from Charlie over there,” Buffy said, pointing at the demon with a long, black, needle-like mouth, with fluids dripping from its tip.
When she saw the needle nearing her shoulder, Willow began to struggle against her restraints more, grunting while she pulled on the chains. As if anyone except for the demons could hear her, she tried to scream through the gag.
The slayer grabbed Willow's face with one hand, pulling her toward her as close as the bonds would allow. “Stop moving so much or this will hurt a lot more,” she said through gritted teeth.
Willow only whimpered when Buffy quickly stuck the needle in her left arm. A few seconds later, everything began to blur. Her head was spinning and she was getting woozy. Her body felt heavy. “Don't worry. The venom won't kill you. It will wear off after a few hours,” was the last thing she heard Buffy say.
“Hopefully.” Buffy chuckled.
Running his hands through his hair while he limped back and forth on the threshold, Spike cursed the daylight. He wanted to go out there and look for Willow.
She had been gone for a few hours now and Buffy hadn't come back, either. He feared that some demon got to Willow, or worse, that Buffy had. Either way, she was in danger and he delivered her right to it. Granted, Red was becoming a fairly powerful witch, raising the dead and all, but he just knew she wouldn't stand a chance against the slayer, especially one who didn't seem to know or care what was right from wrong.
He stopped walking and sighed. He sat on the third step of the stairs, groaning, and buried his face in his palms. He winced when his hands hit his bruises. He hoped the witch would come bursting through the door at any minute. He waited. It was all he could do.
Chapter 7
The hours had seemed longer than they were. Spike had been sitting on the stairs, elbows resting on his thighs and hands clasped between his knees. He'd been there the whole day, staring at the wooden floor, waiting for anyone to come while he recovered a bit and for the sun to set. He just sat there and did nothing. He hated every minute of it.
He looked up at the still closed door. He wanted Buffy to come home. The banter they always used to have, he now realized, was something he greatly missed. He wanted Willow to burst through the door, all smiles, and excitedly rattle off some science-related jargon no one could understand.
He just wanted things back to the way they were.
But he was starting to accept that things had changed and they couldn’t be like they were. And if Buffy had really gone over to the dark side, he'd still love her. Because she was Buffy. He just wasn't sure if he'd tolerate or allow her actions.
He inhaled deeply, ran his left hand on the side of his neck, settling it on his nape, and gazed back at the floor. Right now, even if his body was still a bit sore, a demon would have been great. A kill wouldn't hurt right then, with all his pent up anxiety and anger. But no one had come.
The sun had finally set and he slowly stood up, his jaw and hands clenched. He swiftly grabbed his coat from the railing and sauntered to the threshold. He opened the door, inhaling deeply as he stepped out onto the front porch. He needed to find Willow.
Looking around for any sign of Buffy or Willow, he walked down Revello Drive. He tried to pick up their scents, nostrils flaring, until he got to the main street. He stopped, closed his eyes and groaned as he rubbed his temples. He still felt tired and his body still ached from the beating Buffy had given him earlier. But that wasn't going to stop him from finding Willow. He continued walking along the main street.
“Help! Please, help me!” Spike suddenly heard a young girl cry. He turned to the alley on his left and saw a girl, about as big as Dawn, cornered by two vampires. He approached them slowly and almost thanked God for finally getting the fight he'd been craving.
“I remember the times I used to suck the life out of little girls,” he said when he was close enough. He let out a deep, nostalgic sigh, while looking up at the night sky.
As soon as the fledglings turned around, he punched one on the nose and side kicked the other one. Both fell to the ground. He pulled the stake out of his coat pocket and slammed it onto the vampires' chest, one by one, as they came at him.
“That's it?” He could hardly believe how easy that was. “And I'm badly injured.” Dusting his coat off, his attention shifted to the girl. “What the hell do you think you're doing? Prancing around at night, alone even, when you know this town's...” He turned around and stopped talking when he saw whom he just saved. “Dawn?”
“Hi, Spike.” Dawn waved and smiled coyly. “What happened to you?” Her smile turned into a frown when she finally took notice of Spike's bruises.
Spike only shook his head. “What are you doing here?” He gently took Dawn by the arm and led her out of the dark alley. “How did you even get here?”
They stood under the flickering light of one of the lampposts. “I overheard you and Willow talking last night.” Dawn ducked her head for a moment and then gazed up into Spike's eyes. “I-is is true? Is she... alive?”
Spike glanced away, not knowing how to answer his little bit's question. “It's complicated.”
“Spike,” Dawn chided. She hated it when one of the Scoobies told her that. She hated it more now that Spike had said it. “I'm not a child.”
“Look. I can't explain things just yet because I don't rightly know what's going on myself.” He took her by the hand and started to pull her. “Right now, we just have to get you somewhere safe.”
“No.” Dawn pulled her hand away from his grip. “I'm coming with you.”
Spike knew that when determined, the Summers girls couldn’t be stopped. He only sighed.
Buffy was sitting across from Willow, tapping her foot impatiently while she waited for the witch to wake up. It was taking longer than she'd anticipated and she was getting pissed.
Willow's head felt heavy and she groaned. She feared opening her eyes and starting the nightmare all over again. She thought that if she could pretend long enough that she was still out cold, maybe Buffy would just leave and assume she was dead.
But Buffy heard her groan. “Good. You're awake.”
Willow sighed and slowly her eyes fluttered open. She struggled to her feet, standing as straight as she could and saw Buffy sitting on a chair in front of her, arms and legs crossed. She noticed that she still had the text in one of her hands.
Buffy uncrossed her legs and stood up. She took a few steps toward Willow and said, “You took so long to wake up, I was afraid Charlie over here had lied to me about what the venom would do to you. If he did, I'd have to kill him. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” She unlocked the chains and freed Willow. Willow rubbed her wrists and righted herself.
Buffy gently caressed Willow's cheek with her free hand as she said in a soft voice, “Wouldn't want anything happen to my witch.” She then tapped Willow's cheek twice. Willow flinched. “Now tell me how to do this ritual.” She handed the pages to Willow.
Sighing deeply, text in hand, Willow looked over the pages once more. “Most of this, the important parts anyway, is written in code. It could take me weeks to decode it without resources.”
“I don't have weeks!” Buffy clenched her jaw in frustration. Her fingers dug into Willow’s cheeks as she forced her to look at the first page of the text. “Tell me something you recognize. Anything. Don't tell me you don’t recognize anything. I took this from your book.”
Willow let out a soft whimper and hastily tried to look for a word she'd seen before. “V-virgin!”
“What?”
“Y-you need a virgin.”
Buffy let go of Willow and stepped back. “Great. See how easy that was? Now start decoding the rest of it. This is what you have to work with.” Calmer now, she pointed at the pile of books on the floor a few feet from them.
Willow's voice shook. “I'll try, but --”
“Good,” Buffy said tersely. She spun around and began to head for the ladder.
“Buffy,” Willow called after her. “Do you even know what this does? What this means? It's written in code for a reason.”
Buffy chuckled dryly and turned back to Willow. “Of course I do.”
“Then why do you even want to do it? The Buffy I knew wouldn't even look at this,” Willow said, raising the text.
“The Buffy you knew is long gone. She died. Or have you forgotten?”
Willow stood quietly staring at the person in front of her that only looked like her best friend. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, fighting back her tears.
“Just do as I say and I won't hurt you. I'm not too sure about them though.” Buffy chuckled and gestured at the ten demons surrounding the two of them. “Try anything and they won't hesitate to kill you. I'll be back later.”
Willow watched Buffy ascend the ladder in her red slutty outfit, which reminded her of Faith. She drew a deep breath and then plopped on the chair Buffy had been sitting on. “I'd take Faith right about now,” she said under her breath.
Above the underground cave of Spike's crypt, Roh'gna waited in anticipation and excitement. The slayer had promised him power beyond his wildest dreams. He only hoped that the slayer keep her word when it all panned out. “Where are you going?” he asked when the slayer moved past him.
“I'm going to find me a virgin, Rhonda.” Buffy rolled her eyes when Roh'gna's only response to her joke was looking at her funny. “Keep an eye on my witch while I'm gone.”
He looked up at the still closed door. He wanted Buffy to come home. The banter they always used to have, he now realized, was something he greatly missed. He wanted Willow to burst through the door, all smiles, and excitedly rattle off some science-related jargon no one could understand.
He just wanted things back to the way they were.
But he was starting to accept that things had changed and they couldn’t be like they were. And if Buffy had really gone over to the dark side, he'd still love her. Because she was Buffy. He just wasn't sure if he'd tolerate or allow her actions.
He inhaled deeply, ran his left hand on the side of his neck, settling it on his nape, and gazed back at the floor. Right now, even if his body was still a bit sore, a demon would have been great. A kill wouldn't hurt right then, with all his pent up anxiety and anger. But no one had come.
The sun had finally set and he slowly stood up, his jaw and hands clenched. He swiftly grabbed his coat from the railing and sauntered to the threshold. He opened the door, inhaling deeply as he stepped out onto the front porch. He needed to find Willow.
Looking around for any sign of Buffy or Willow, he walked down Revello Drive. He tried to pick up their scents, nostrils flaring, until he got to the main street. He stopped, closed his eyes and groaned as he rubbed his temples. He still felt tired and his body still ached from the beating Buffy had given him earlier. But that wasn't going to stop him from finding Willow. He continued walking along the main street.
“Help! Please, help me!” Spike suddenly heard a young girl cry. He turned to the alley on his left and saw a girl, about as big as Dawn, cornered by two vampires. He approached them slowly and almost thanked God for finally getting the fight he'd been craving.
“I remember the times I used to suck the life out of little girls,” he said when he was close enough. He let out a deep, nostalgic sigh, while looking up at the night sky.
As soon as the fledglings turned around, he punched one on the nose and side kicked the other one. Both fell to the ground. He pulled the stake out of his coat pocket and slammed it onto the vampires' chest, one by one, as they came at him.
“That's it?” He could hardly believe how easy that was. “And I'm badly injured.” Dusting his coat off, his attention shifted to the girl. “What the hell do you think you're doing? Prancing around at night, alone even, when you know this town's...” He turned around and stopped talking when he saw whom he just saved. “Dawn?”
“Hi, Spike.” Dawn waved and smiled coyly. “What happened to you?” Her smile turned into a frown when she finally took notice of Spike's bruises.
Spike only shook his head. “What are you doing here?” He gently took Dawn by the arm and led her out of the dark alley. “How did you even get here?”
They stood under the flickering light of one of the lampposts. “I overheard you and Willow talking last night.” Dawn ducked her head for a moment and then gazed up into Spike's eyes. “I-is is true? Is she... alive?”
Spike glanced away, not knowing how to answer his little bit's question. “It's complicated.”
“Spike,” Dawn chided. She hated it when one of the Scoobies told her that. She hated it more now that Spike had said it. “I'm not a child.”
“Look. I can't explain things just yet because I don't rightly know what's going on myself.” He took her by the hand and started to pull her. “Right now, we just have to get you somewhere safe.”
“No.” Dawn pulled her hand away from his grip. “I'm coming with you.”
Spike knew that when determined, the Summers girls couldn’t be stopped. He only sighed.
Buffy was sitting across from Willow, tapping her foot impatiently while she waited for the witch to wake up. It was taking longer than she'd anticipated and she was getting pissed.
Willow's head felt heavy and she groaned. She feared opening her eyes and starting the nightmare all over again. She thought that if she could pretend long enough that she was still out cold, maybe Buffy would just leave and assume she was dead.
But Buffy heard her groan. “Good. You're awake.”
Willow sighed and slowly her eyes fluttered open. She struggled to her feet, standing as straight as she could and saw Buffy sitting on a chair in front of her, arms and legs crossed. She noticed that she still had the text in one of her hands.
Buffy uncrossed her legs and stood up. She took a few steps toward Willow and said, “You took so long to wake up, I was afraid Charlie over here had lied to me about what the venom would do to you. If he did, I'd have to kill him. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” She unlocked the chains and freed Willow. Willow rubbed her wrists and righted herself.
Buffy gently caressed Willow's cheek with her free hand as she said in a soft voice, “Wouldn't want anything happen to my witch.” She then tapped Willow's cheek twice. Willow flinched. “Now tell me how to do this ritual.” She handed the pages to Willow.
Sighing deeply, text in hand, Willow looked over the pages once more. “Most of this, the important parts anyway, is written in code. It could take me weeks to decode it without resources.”
“I don't have weeks!” Buffy clenched her jaw in frustration. Her fingers dug into Willow’s cheeks as she forced her to look at the first page of the text. “Tell me something you recognize. Anything. Don't tell me you don’t recognize anything. I took this from your book.”
Willow let out a soft whimper and hastily tried to look for a word she'd seen before. “V-virgin!”
“What?”
“Y-you need a virgin.”
Buffy let go of Willow and stepped back. “Great. See how easy that was? Now start decoding the rest of it. This is what you have to work with.” Calmer now, she pointed at the pile of books on the floor a few feet from them.
Willow's voice shook. “I'll try, but --”
“Good,” Buffy said tersely. She spun around and began to head for the ladder.
“Buffy,” Willow called after her. “Do you even know what this does? What this means? It's written in code for a reason.”
Buffy chuckled dryly and turned back to Willow. “Of course I do.”
“Then why do you even want to do it? The Buffy I knew wouldn't even look at this,” Willow said, raising the text.
“The Buffy you knew is long gone. She died. Or have you forgotten?”
Willow stood quietly staring at the person in front of her that only looked like her best friend. She lowered her head and closed her eyes, fighting back her tears.
“Just do as I say and I won't hurt you. I'm not too sure about them though.” Buffy chuckled and gestured at the ten demons surrounding the two of them. “Try anything and they won't hesitate to kill you. I'll be back later.”
Willow watched Buffy ascend the ladder in her red slutty outfit, which reminded her of Faith. She drew a deep breath and then plopped on the chair Buffy had been sitting on. “I'd take Faith right about now,” she said under her breath.
Above the underground cave of Spike's crypt, Roh'gna waited in anticipation and excitement. The slayer had promised him power beyond his wildest dreams. He only hoped that the slayer keep her word when it all panned out. “Where are you going?” he asked when the slayer moved past him.
“I'm going to find me a virgin, Rhonda.” Buffy rolled her eyes when Roh'gna's only response to her joke was looking at her funny. “Keep an eye on my witch while I'm gone.”
Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Buffy was determined to find one of the things she knew she needed – a virgin – even though most of the residents of Sunnydale had left because of the demons she now controlled. It was frustrating her that things had not been going as planned. And to top it all off, she thought that Spike would have left town the minute she died. She didn't think he would stay and keep his damn promise. And now, he was there: annoying, meddling, and fucking things up on top of having trouble translating the text.
She was about to head back to Restfield and take her anger out on another demon's head when she saw Dawn and Spike a few yards away. The first word that popped into her mind was virgin. Smiling widely for very different reasons than what Dawn thought, Buffy jogged toward them and called to Dawn.
“Buffy!” Dawn's face lit up and she started for her sister. When Spike held her forearm and stopped her, she turned to face him, her confusion clear in her expression.
Buffy halted just a few feet away from them, facing the vampire she'd just deemed a major plan-spoiler. “What do you think you're doing?”
Spike moved in front of Dawn, putting himself between her and the slayer. “Where's Willow?”
Without thinking, Buffy quickly answered, “She's safe, with me.” Dismissing Spike, she turned her attention to her very confused sister. “Dawn.”
“I can't let you near her.” Spike shook his head.
Buffy scoffed. If she was pissed off at Spike before, now she was sure she could drive a stake through his chest without any hesitation. “Let go of my sister,” she said through a clenched jaw.
Spike gripped Dawn back tighter when Buffy started to move toward them once more. “As far as I'm concerned, you're not the slayer.”
Dawn's gaze shifted from Buffy's infuriated expression to Spike's equally enraged one. They were glaring at each other, but Buffy's eyes seemed fiercer, darker, scarier. She clutched Spike's arm and whispered, “What's going on?”
Buffy stretched her hand out to her sister. “Dawn, come here,” she said in a coaxing voice.
Dawn glanced at Spike and knew she needed to trust him by the look in his eyes alone. She looked at Buffy, still bewildered and eyes filling with tears. “I...”
Buffy chuckled derisively. “Who are you going to listen to? Me or this freak-show, lame excuse for a vampire?” she asked, pointing at Spike with disdain.
Dawn gave Buffy her answer; she moved behind Spike further, biting back the urge to cry.
“You ungrateful little brat!” Buffy snarled while she shook her head in disgust. “What did this thing do while I was gone that you’d choose to believe him instead of me? I’m your sister!”
“Better shut your gob, slayer,” Spike said, impatient now.
“Oh, should I?” She wanted to kill the little bitch, but she bit her lip and curled her hands into fists at her sides to abate her anger. She took a deep breath and forced a smile before advancing toward the two, reaching for Dawn’s arm. “Dawn, don't be silly!”
Dawn pulled her arm away from her sister's grip as Spike quickly put an arm across her front. He pushed Buffy by the shoulder and backed away. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Buffy turned to Dawn. She saw the fear in her sister's eyes and knew that if she couldn’t get Dawn to trust her, she wouldn’t come with her. She decided to back off for now.
“Fine. If that's what you want. I just wanted to be with you.” She whirled around and left with an ominous look in her eyes. She was determined to get to her sister some way, even if it meant eliminating the obstacles.
Lips trembling, Dawn watched her sister walk away. She couldn't believe what had just happened. If that was the consequence of having her brought back to life, then she didn't want it. And if her sister's friends bothered to ask her what she wanted she would have done everything she could to keep them from trying. She'd rather keep the good memories of her sister than to see her like this.
That thing wasn't the Buffy she knew. It wasn't her at all.
Spike turned around and saw Dawn trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. He took her by the arms and said quietly, “Let's get you home.”
Buffy stormed into the crypt, passing and ignoring Roh'gna who asked if she had found what she was looking for. She went straight to the hole in the ground and dropped down. “Tell me you have something.”
Willow turned to her with her mouth slightly open. She had a worried and surprised look on her face, and she hesitated to speak. “Y-you've only been gone a few --”
Buffy exhaled sharply. “Useless amateur!”
Willow threw the papers at the floor and stood up, facing the slayer. “I think you better stop talking to me that way.”
Buffy laughed. “Or you'll what? Turn me into a frog?”
“I'm powerful enough to bring you back. Don't you think I could put you back in the ground? So maybe it's best if you don't piss me off.”
Buffy chuckled at her, a taunting, menacing laugh. Without warning, she slapped the witch sharply on the cheek.
Willow stood still, breathing heavily, head still turned to one side. A teardrop slowly ran down her crimson cheek, past the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
Buffy pushed her down onto her seat and walked away. “Don't stop until you decode that fucking text.”
Spike and Dawn's walk home had been quiet. Neither knew what to say, and Spike didn't force a conversation. He figured Dawn would ask for an explanation when she was ready to talk about it.
Wrapped in a blanket and staring blankly at the pieces of the coffee table, Dawn sat on the living room couch. She was still shaken up about seeing Buffy alive, but not recognizing her at all.
Spike went into the living room, a cup of hot cocoa in his hand. He handed it to Dawn who thanked him in a voice so quiet he wouldn't have heard if he were human. He sat beside her.
She took a sip and then set the cup on her thighs, her hands wrapped around the mug for warmth. She lifted her head and asked in a tentative voice, “What happened to her?”
Spike chuckled softly. “She's angry, isn't she?”
“Boy, is that the understatement of the year.” Dawn rubbed the side of the mug with her thumb while she stared at it. “She doesn't want to be here.”
Spike knew from the tears welling up in her eyes what she meant. She thought Buffy didn't want to be with her. “There's definitely something different about her.”
“This is all Willow's fault,” Dawn said spitefully.
“Dawn,” Spike reprimanded. It was, of course, how he felt, too. But instead of blaming Willow, they should be finding her and trying to help Buffy. He doubted the witch was safe, especially if she was with the crazy slayer.
“Well, it is!”
“She just --”
“Missed her.” She exhaled deeply while tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know. We all did. But I would have never done something as selfish as what she did.”
Spike gave a faint smile. “Remember the time you wanted to bring your mum back?”
Dawn opened her mouth to refute him, but he was right. She sighed and took another sip of her cocoa.
Spike placed a hand over her knee and said, “She'll be okay. She'll be all right, yeah?” If he could convince Dawn, Spike thought, then maybe he could convince himself.
Buffy was determined to find one of the things she knew she needed – a virgin – even though most of the residents of Sunnydale had left because of the demons she now controlled. It was frustrating her that things had not been going as planned. And to top it all off, she thought that Spike would have left town the minute she died. She didn't think he would stay and keep his damn promise. And now, he was there: annoying, meddling, and fucking things up on top of having trouble translating the text.
She was about to head back to Restfield and take her anger out on another demon's head when she saw Dawn and Spike a few yards away. The first word that popped into her mind was virgin. Smiling widely for very different reasons than what Dawn thought, Buffy jogged toward them and called to Dawn.
“Buffy!” Dawn's face lit up and she started for her sister. When Spike held her forearm and stopped her, she turned to face him, her confusion clear in her expression.
Buffy halted just a few feet away from them, facing the vampire she'd just deemed a major plan-spoiler. “What do you think you're doing?”
Spike moved in front of Dawn, putting himself between her and the slayer. “Where's Willow?”
Without thinking, Buffy quickly answered, “She's safe, with me.” Dismissing Spike, she turned her attention to her very confused sister. “Dawn.”
“I can't let you near her.” Spike shook his head.
Buffy scoffed. If she was pissed off at Spike before, now she was sure she could drive a stake through his chest without any hesitation. “Let go of my sister,” she said through a clenched jaw.
Spike gripped Dawn back tighter when Buffy started to move toward them once more. “As far as I'm concerned, you're not the slayer.”
Dawn's gaze shifted from Buffy's infuriated expression to Spike's equally enraged one. They were glaring at each other, but Buffy's eyes seemed fiercer, darker, scarier. She clutched Spike's arm and whispered, “What's going on?”
Buffy stretched her hand out to her sister. “Dawn, come here,” she said in a coaxing voice.
Dawn glanced at Spike and knew she needed to trust him by the look in his eyes alone. She looked at Buffy, still bewildered and eyes filling with tears. “I...”
Buffy chuckled derisively. “Who are you going to listen to? Me or this freak-show, lame excuse for a vampire?” she asked, pointing at Spike with disdain.
Dawn gave Buffy her answer; she moved behind Spike further, biting back the urge to cry.
“You ungrateful little brat!” Buffy snarled while she shook her head in disgust. “What did this thing do while I was gone that you’d choose to believe him instead of me? I’m your sister!”
“Better shut your gob, slayer,” Spike said, impatient now.
“Oh, should I?” She wanted to kill the little bitch, but she bit her lip and curled her hands into fists at her sides to abate her anger. She took a deep breath and forced a smile before advancing toward the two, reaching for Dawn’s arm. “Dawn, don't be silly!”
Dawn pulled her arm away from her sister's grip as Spike quickly put an arm across her front. He pushed Buffy by the shoulder and backed away. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Buffy turned to Dawn. She saw the fear in her sister's eyes and knew that if she couldn’t get Dawn to trust her, she wouldn’t come with her. She decided to back off for now.
“Fine. If that's what you want. I just wanted to be with you.” She whirled around and left with an ominous look in her eyes. She was determined to get to her sister some way, even if it meant eliminating the obstacles.
Lips trembling, Dawn watched her sister walk away. She couldn't believe what had just happened. If that was the consequence of having her brought back to life, then she didn't want it. And if her sister's friends bothered to ask her what she wanted she would have done everything she could to keep them from trying. She'd rather keep the good memories of her sister than to see her like this.
That thing wasn't the Buffy she knew. It wasn't her at all.
Spike turned around and saw Dawn trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. He took her by the arms and said quietly, “Let's get you home.”
Buffy stormed into the crypt, passing and ignoring Roh'gna who asked if she had found what she was looking for. She went straight to the hole in the ground and dropped down. “Tell me you have something.”
Willow turned to her with her mouth slightly open. She had a worried and surprised look on her face, and she hesitated to speak. “Y-you've only been gone a few --”
Buffy exhaled sharply. “Useless amateur!”
Willow threw the papers at the floor and stood up, facing the slayer. “I think you better stop talking to me that way.”
Buffy laughed. “Or you'll what? Turn me into a frog?”
“I'm powerful enough to bring you back. Don't you think I could put you back in the ground? So maybe it's best if you don't piss me off.”
Buffy chuckled at her, a taunting, menacing laugh. Without warning, she slapped the witch sharply on the cheek.
Willow stood still, breathing heavily, head still turned to one side. A teardrop slowly ran down her crimson cheek, past the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
Buffy pushed her down onto her seat and walked away. “Don't stop until you decode that fucking text.”
Spike and Dawn's walk home had been quiet. Neither knew what to say, and Spike didn't force a conversation. He figured Dawn would ask for an explanation when she was ready to talk about it.
Wrapped in a blanket and staring blankly at the pieces of the coffee table, Dawn sat on the living room couch. She was still shaken up about seeing Buffy alive, but not recognizing her at all.
Spike went into the living room, a cup of hot cocoa in his hand. He handed it to Dawn who thanked him in a voice so quiet he wouldn't have heard if he were human. He sat beside her.
She took a sip and then set the cup on her thighs, her hands wrapped around the mug for warmth. She lifted her head and asked in a tentative voice, “What happened to her?”
Spike chuckled softly. “She's angry, isn't she?”
“Boy, is that the understatement of the year.” Dawn rubbed the side of the mug with her thumb while she stared at it. “She doesn't want to be here.”
Spike knew from the tears welling up in her eyes what she meant. She thought Buffy didn't want to be with her. “There's definitely something different about her.”
“This is all Willow's fault,” Dawn said spitefully.
“Dawn,” Spike reprimanded. It was, of course, how he felt, too. But instead of blaming Willow, they should be finding her and trying to help Buffy. He doubted the witch was safe, especially if she was with the crazy slayer.
“Well, it is!”
“She just --”
“Missed her.” She exhaled deeply while tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know. We all did. But I would have never done something as selfish as what she did.”
Spike gave a faint smile. “Remember the time you wanted to bring your mum back?”
Dawn opened her mouth to refute him, but he was right. She sighed and took another sip of her cocoa.
Spike placed a hand over her knee and said, “She'll be okay. She'll be all right, yeah?” If he could convince Dawn, Spike thought, then maybe he could convince himself.
Chapter 9
Betas: DawnofMe and Tanit
Two hours after their encounter with Buffy, Spike had finally convinced Dawn to go to bed. She was pretty shaken up and had asked if he could stay with her until she fell asleep. He sat on a chair beside the bed and watched as she tossed and turned, until she finally drifted off to slumber.
She'd just seen her sister who had been brought back to life. After months of grieving for her, she couldn't even be with her. He could not help but feel that she had been given back something she had sorely missed, something she needed, only to have him take it away from her again. It wasn't his fault, he knew that. Dawn knew it, too. Nevertheless, he still felt guilty. She was his little bit and he'd failed her again. More importantly, he felt like he had failed Buffy again.
When Dawn had settled down, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him, and headed downstairs. He went into the kitchen and peered out onto the back porch. Just as he suspected, Buffy was standing there, staring out into the darkness of the night with her arms folded over her chest. He'd felt her the moment she arrived and was glad she didn't disturb them.
He headed straight for her and she spun around when she heard the door open. He seized her by the arm and pulled her off the porch, down to the lawn. “I think you'd better push off,” he said, his voice lacking hostility.
Buffy yanked her arm from his hold and said, “May I remind you that this is my house?” She pointed at herself with her index finger.
She was right. But she wasn't exactly calling the Summers' house home sweet home lately. Just like any other villain, he figured she was shacking up at some dank place she could call her lair.
He raised his hands and then dropped them, so as to wave the proverbial white flag. “I'm tired of this bloody charade,” he said wearily. “Just tell me Willow's all right, and I'll leave you to do whatever the hell you want just as long as you don't hurt her.”
“She's fine,” she said simply.
“Great,” Spike said, almost indifferently. He started to leave but she stopped him.
“Look, I'm not doing anything wrong here,” she said and Spike chuckled to disagree. “Whatever you think I'm doing, you're badly mistaken.”
Spike shook his head. Aside from acting strange, apparently Buffy was delusional too. “You need help, Buffy, and I'm willing to give it to you. But if you don't want it, there's not much I can do, is there? Stopping you is all I can do now.”
“So this is your way of helping me? By turning my own family and friends against me?”
“I reckon you'd do that well enough on your own, slayer,” he muttered while he walked past her.
Buffy relented and put a hand up. “Wait,” she said and Spike looked over his shoulder. “Just wait.” She dropped her hand, sighed and walked toward him. “Can we just... talk?”
An eyebrow raised, Spike turned. It was a surprise, but it was surely a pleasant one. He studied her, raking his fingers through his hair and then sat on the steps. Buffy sat beside him when he motioned for her to take a seat.
Both of them lapsed into silence. Buffy was intently gazing at the lawn, seemingly counting every blade of grass. Her hands were on her knees, gripping them as she tried to find the courage to speak.
Spike was looking up at the night sky. “So... talk.” It was hard to act as if he didn't care about her, because he did; he cared more than his heart could take.
Buffy took a deep breath. “You don't know what it's like. You don't know...” She let out a shaky breath and gave Spike a sideways glance. “I felt so helpless when I was pulled out of heaven. At least when I was alive and when I decided to give my life up for the sake of the world, it was my choice. Then I was brought to heaven... and I was happy. Really happy, for the first time. I felt whole, complete. And when I was pulled back here...” She paused, her fists forming balls. Spike grabbed one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. “The first thing I had to do was gasp for air and claw my way out of my grave. I thought I was in hell.”
She looked up at him and gazed into his eyes, hers shining with unshed tears.
Spike grinned at her. “It doesn't have to be like this. You'll get through this, I know you will, love. You're the strongest person I know and the Buffy I know doesn't give up; not like this.”
Buffy's lower lips trembled. She could still see the unconditional love in his eyes and knew that deciding to come here was a great idea. Finally, after moments of staring deeply into each other's eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. The kiss lasted only for a few seconds but for Spike, it felt like time stopped. When Buffy pulled away, she looked at him with wide eyes.
For a moment, Spike saw Buffy. The Buffy they knew. The Buffy he loved.
Getting to her feet, Buffy barely got out, “I-I'm sorry,” before she quickly ran away.
Spike watched her go. She'd left again but he didn't care. He didn't care at all. She was coming back. He was certain now; she was going to come back. That was all that mattered.
Still running, Buffy glanced behind her to check if Spike had followed her. When she saw he was nowhere in sight, she stopped. A demon came out from behind the bushes and Buffy jumped in surprise. It was Tehg'do, one of the other demons from the Oug demon clan Buffy now controlled. He looked a lot like Roh'gna, only his skin was more green than yellow.
“Don't do that ever again.” She grabbed the piece of cloth he was holding out to her.
“Ya did it?” the demon asked anxiously.
Buffy spat and grimaced at the taste of the liquid she'd had on her lips and of Spike's lips. “Of course, I did,” she said while giving the demon a look. She wiped her mouth with the cloth and threw it back to Tehg'do. “Tomorrow, Dawn will be running right to me,” she said with an impish grin and then chuckled.
Two hours after their encounter with Buffy, Spike had finally convinced Dawn to go to bed. She was pretty shaken up and had asked if he could stay with her until she fell asleep. He sat on a chair beside the bed and watched as she tossed and turned, until she finally drifted off to slumber.
She'd just seen her sister who had been brought back to life. After months of grieving for her, she couldn't even be with her. He could not help but feel that she had been given back something she had sorely missed, something she needed, only to have him take it away from her again. It wasn't his fault, he knew that. Dawn knew it, too. Nevertheless, he still felt guilty. She was his little bit and he'd failed her again. More importantly, he felt like he had failed Buffy again.
When Dawn had settled down, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him, and headed downstairs. He went into the kitchen and peered out onto the back porch. Just as he suspected, Buffy was standing there, staring out into the darkness of the night with her arms folded over her chest. He'd felt her the moment she arrived and was glad she didn't disturb them.
He headed straight for her and she spun around when she heard the door open. He seized her by the arm and pulled her off the porch, down to the lawn. “I think you'd better push off,” he said, his voice lacking hostility.
Buffy yanked her arm from his hold and said, “May I remind you that this is my house?” She pointed at herself with her index finger.
She was right. But she wasn't exactly calling the Summers' house home sweet home lately. Just like any other villain, he figured she was shacking up at some dank place she could call her lair.
He raised his hands and then dropped them, so as to wave the proverbial white flag. “I'm tired of this bloody charade,” he said wearily. “Just tell me Willow's all right, and I'll leave you to do whatever the hell you want just as long as you don't hurt her.”
“She's fine,” she said simply.
“Great,” Spike said, almost indifferently. He started to leave but she stopped him.
“Look, I'm not doing anything wrong here,” she said and Spike chuckled to disagree. “Whatever you think I'm doing, you're badly mistaken.”
Spike shook his head. Aside from acting strange, apparently Buffy was delusional too. “You need help, Buffy, and I'm willing to give it to you. But if you don't want it, there's not much I can do, is there? Stopping you is all I can do now.”
“So this is your way of helping me? By turning my own family and friends against me?”
“I reckon you'd do that well enough on your own, slayer,” he muttered while he walked past her.
Buffy relented and put a hand up. “Wait,” she said and Spike looked over his shoulder. “Just wait.” She dropped her hand, sighed and walked toward him. “Can we just... talk?”
An eyebrow raised, Spike turned. It was a surprise, but it was surely a pleasant one. He studied her, raking his fingers through his hair and then sat on the steps. Buffy sat beside him when he motioned for her to take a seat.
Both of them lapsed into silence. Buffy was intently gazing at the lawn, seemingly counting every blade of grass. Her hands were on her knees, gripping them as she tried to find the courage to speak.
Spike was looking up at the night sky. “So... talk.” It was hard to act as if he didn't care about her, because he did; he cared more than his heart could take.
Buffy took a deep breath. “You don't know what it's like. You don't know...” She let out a shaky breath and gave Spike a sideways glance. “I felt so helpless when I was pulled out of heaven. At least when I was alive and when I decided to give my life up for the sake of the world, it was my choice. Then I was brought to heaven... and I was happy. Really happy, for the first time. I felt whole, complete. And when I was pulled back here...” She paused, her fists forming balls. Spike grabbed one of her hands and gave it a squeeze. “The first thing I had to do was gasp for air and claw my way out of my grave. I thought I was in hell.”
She looked up at him and gazed into his eyes, hers shining with unshed tears.
Spike grinned at her. “It doesn't have to be like this. You'll get through this, I know you will, love. You're the strongest person I know and the Buffy I know doesn't give up; not like this.”
Buffy's lower lips trembled. She could still see the unconditional love in his eyes and knew that deciding to come here was a great idea. Finally, after moments of staring deeply into each other's eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. The kiss lasted only for a few seconds but for Spike, it felt like time stopped. When Buffy pulled away, she looked at him with wide eyes.
For a moment, Spike saw Buffy. The Buffy they knew. The Buffy he loved.
Getting to her feet, Buffy barely got out, “I-I'm sorry,” before she quickly ran away.
Spike watched her go. She'd left again but he didn't care. He didn't care at all. She was coming back. He was certain now; she was going to come back. That was all that mattered.
Still running, Buffy glanced behind her to check if Spike had followed her. When she saw he was nowhere in sight, she stopped. A demon came out from behind the bushes and Buffy jumped in surprise. It was Tehg'do, one of the other demons from the Oug demon clan Buffy now controlled. He looked a lot like Roh'gna, only his skin was more green than yellow.
“Don't do that ever again.” She grabbed the piece of cloth he was holding out to her.
“Ya did it?” the demon asked anxiously.
Buffy spat and grimaced at the taste of the liquid she'd had on her lips and of Spike's lips. “Of course, I did,” she said while giving the demon a look. She wiped her mouth with the cloth and threw it back to Tehg'do. “Tomorrow, Dawn will be running right to me,” she said with an impish grin and then chuckled.
Chapter 10
The minute Spike stepped back into the house, he felt light-headed. He closed the door behind him and tried to balance himself as much as his dizziness would allow. When he was finally able to stand upright without swaying, he managed to stagger as far as the kitchen table and with a thump, sit on the closest chair he could pull out.
“Bloody hell.” He screwed his eyes shut and opened them again. The world around him was hazy; things were spinning around him so fast that he could barely make anything out. A sharp twinge fired deep in his brain and he put a hand to his head as his body twitched from the pain. It made him want to bash someone's brain in and sink his fangs deep into someone's throat. It made him crave blood more than he'd ever craved it before.
Unconsciously slipping into the face of his demon, he stood up with a growl, grabbed the chair he'd been sitting on and threw it across the room. It broke into pieces as it crashed against the wall opposite him and he jolted back in shock at what he'd just done, now back in his human face.
What happened in the backyard was nothing more than wishful thinking. He'd seen things that weren't really there because he'd wanted it so badly. She had played him; he knew that now. And whatever was happening to him was her doing.
He quickly looked up at the ceiling and wondered if Dawn had heard it. Sure enough, she had. Descending footsteps clattered on the wooden staircase.
“What was that?” Dawn was standing by the threshold now, grimacing in worry.
“A demon,” he answered. And it really was one. “But I fought it off.”
Dawn glanced around the room, noticing that there was no demon lying on the floor. There was also no sign of struggle whatsoever amidst the already cluttered kitchen, aside from the pieces of what she was sure was once a stool. “Where is it?” She looked at him quizzically.
“It left.” Spike approached her and ran a hand over her head, smoothing down her slightly disheveled bed hair. “Now go back to bed.”
By the doubtful look on Dawn's face, he knew she didn't believe him. Dawn was a pretty clever young girl and he knew he couldn't keep things from her. But he was still in shock from what happened, and Dawn had gone through enough already. He didn't want to frighten her off. He was the only one she had. She was the only one he had.
Dawn glanced around the dining area, brows still furrowed. “Okay.” She hesitantly went back up to her room, looking over her shoulder at Spike who was standing at the foot of the stairs.
Spike practically ran to the kitchen as soon as Dawn was out of sight. He carelessly rifled through the refrigerator for a packet of blood, took it out and bit into it. Drinking blood, he thought, was the solution.
After he finished the packet, fulfilling the near all-consuming need for blood he’d felt, he went into the living room. He turned on the television set, the volume just loud enough for him to hear it and low enough that it wouldn’t keep him from hearing if anyone approached the house.
The sofa, he mused, was now his new cot. He missed the cot. It was the place he'd been sleeping on back when Buffy was still six feet under and when the Scoobies were still here.
The demons who had broken into the house had broken it into two, among some other things in the house. It was having the cot that gave him comfort when he thought he couldn't get through Buffy being gone and knowing he would most likely be around for a very long time. It was having the cot that made him feel as if he were a part of the Scoobies.
Now all he had was a fucked up sofa. Fucked up. Just like everything else.
He'd give anything now to have that cot. The TV was nothing but static – he forgot to change the channel – and he stared at it blankly. He chuckled scornfully and shook his head. No, he wouldn't give anything for things to get back to the way they were. He'd take evil Buffy over no Buffy any day.
Getting a bit more comfortable, he stretched his legs out and slid down the couch a bit. He was wide awake, and planned to be so until daybreak.
He could clearly hear Dawn's heartbeat through all the noise around them. The beating of her heart soon turned into a rhythmic lullaby. Each beat lulled him to sleep. Each beat drowned out every other noise he heard – car horns blaring, motorcycles speeding by, and the soft buzzing of the television set static. With each beat of Dawn's heart, he was hypnotized.
Without him realizing it, sleep took him.
When he opened his eyes, daylight was already streaming in through the curtain and the overwhelming thirst for blood was still there. The television set had been turned off. The clock atop the side table to his right read seven o'clock. Surprisingly, he'd slept for more than six hours. He jolted upright and focused his senses to Dawn's breathing. When he heard it, he stood up and called out, “Dawn?”
“Yeah?” Dawn's voice came from the kitchen.
He quickly went to the kitchen and saw Dawn sitting on the counter, staring at the bowl of cereal before her. It was obvious she had not touched it. “You're up early.”
“Couldn't really sleep.” She smiled wryly at him while idly stirring the cereal with the spoon. Spike gave her an apologetic frown and she added, “I could hear noises outside. How about you? Slept well?”
“Oddly, yeah.” His eyes unintentionally fell on Dawn's jugular. He could see the vein pulsing, pumping rich, young, crimson blood. He quickly jerked his head up. “I'm not feeling very well. I don't know if I can protect you.” From myself, he thought and sighed. “Who knows you're here?”
Dawn bit her lip and averted her eyes from his. “Well...”
“Dawn.” Spike cocked his head and placed his hands on his hips.
“I asked for a few dollars from Xander and Angel,” she said and Spike raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I took it, snuck out, and rode a bus. You'd think there'd be no buses coming here any more but–”
“Dawn, they're probably worried sick!”
“Maybe they think I left with Willow.”
Spike shook his head and turned from her to go to the phone. “I should get you ba– ”
Dawn scowled when Spike stopped in mid sentence and froze where he was standing. “Get me what?” She strained her neck to try to look at him. “Spike?” When he still didn't answer, she got off the stool and walked to him. “Spike,” she said and reached for him. But before her hand touched him, Spike turned and lunged at her with a growl.
Dawn screamed.
“Bloody hell.” He screwed his eyes shut and opened them again. The world around him was hazy; things were spinning around him so fast that he could barely make anything out. A sharp twinge fired deep in his brain and he put a hand to his head as his body twitched from the pain. It made him want to bash someone's brain in and sink his fangs deep into someone's throat. It made him crave blood more than he'd ever craved it before.
Unconsciously slipping into the face of his demon, he stood up with a growl, grabbed the chair he'd been sitting on and threw it across the room. It broke into pieces as it crashed against the wall opposite him and he jolted back in shock at what he'd just done, now back in his human face.
What happened in the backyard was nothing more than wishful thinking. He'd seen things that weren't really there because he'd wanted it so badly. She had played him; he knew that now. And whatever was happening to him was her doing.
He quickly looked up at the ceiling and wondered if Dawn had heard it. Sure enough, she had. Descending footsteps clattered on the wooden staircase.
“What was that?” Dawn was standing by the threshold now, grimacing in worry.
“A demon,” he answered. And it really was one. “But I fought it off.”
Dawn glanced around the room, noticing that there was no demon lying on the floor. There was also no sign of struggle whatsoever amidst the already cluttered kitchen, aside from the pieces of what she was sure was once a stool. “Where is it?” She looked at him quizzically.
“It left.” Spike approached her and ran a hand over her head, smoothing down her slightly disheveled bed hair. “Now go back to bed.”
By the doubtful look on Dawn's face, he knew she didn't believe him. Dawn was a pretty clever young girl and he knew he couldn't keep things from her. But he was still in shock from what happened, and Dawn had gone through enough already. He didn't want to frighten her off. He was the only one she had. She was the only one he had.
Dawn glanced around the dining area, brows still furrowed. “Okay.” She hesitantly went back up to her room, looking over her shoulder at Spike who was standing at the foot of the stairs.
Spike practically ran to the kitchen as soon as Dawn was out of sight. He carelessly rifled through the refrigerator for a packet of blood, took it out and bit into it. Drinking blood, he thought, was the solution.
After he finished the packet, fulfilling the near all-consuming need for blood he’d felt, he went into the living room. He turned on the television set, the volume just loud enough for him to hear it and low enough that it wouldn’t keep him from hearing if anyone approached the house.
The sofa, he mused, was now his new cot. He missed the cot. It was the place he'd been sleeping on back when Buffy was still six feet under and when the Scoobies were still here.
The demons who had broken into the house had broken it into two, among some other things in the house. It was having the cot that gave him comfort when he thought he couldn't get through Buffy being gone and knowing he would most likely be around for a very long time. It was having the cot that made him feel as if he were a part of the Scoobies.
Now all he had was a fucked up sofa. Fucked up. Just like everything else.
He'd give anything now to have that cot. The TV was nothing but static – he forgot to change the channel – and he stared at it blankly. He chuckled scornfully and shook his head. No, he wouldn't give anything for things to get back to the way they were. He'd take evil Buffy over no Buffy any day.
Getting a bit more comfortable, he stretched his legs out and slid down the couch a bit. He was wide awake, and planned to be so until daybreak.
He could clearly hear Dawn's heartbeat through all the noise around them. The beating of her heart soon turned into a rhythmic lullaby. Each beat lulled him to sleep. Each beat drowned out every other noise he heard – car horns blaring, motorcycles speeding by, and the soft buzzing of the television set static. With each beat of Dawn's heart, he was hypnotized.
Without him realizing it, sleep took him.
When he opened his eyes, daylight was already streaming in through the curtain and the overwhelming thirst for blood was still there. The television set had been turned off. The clock atop the side table to his right read seven o'clock. Surprisingly, he'd slept for more than six hours. He jolted upright and focused his senses to Dawn's breathing. When he heard it, he stood up and called out, “Dawn?”
“Yeah?” Dawn's voice came from the kitchen.
He quickly went to the kitchen and saw Dawn sitting on the counter, staring at the bowl of cereal before her. It was obvious she had not touched it. “You're up early.”
“Couldn't really sleep.” She smiled wryly at him while idly stirring the cereal with the spoon. Spike gave her an apologetic frown and she added, “I could hear noises outside. How about you? Slept well?”
“Oddly, yeah.” His eyes unintentionally fell on Dawn's jugular. He could see the vein pulsing, pumping rich, young, crimson blood. He quickly jerked his head up. “I'm not feeling very well. I don't know if I can protect you.” From myself, he thought and sighed. “Who knows you're here?”
Dawn bit her lip and averted her eyes from his. “Well...”
“Dawn.” Spike cocked his head and placed his hands on his hips.
“I asked for a few dollars from Xander and Angel,” she said and Spike raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I took it, snuck out, and rode a bus. You'd think there'd be no buses coming here any more but–”
“Dawn, they're probably worried sick!”
“Maybe they think I left with Willow.”
Spike shook his head and turned from her to go to the phone. “I should get you ba– ”
Dawn scowled when Spike stopped in mid sentence and froze where he was standing. “Get me what?” She strained her neck to try to look at him. “Spike?” When he still didn't answer, she got off the stool and walked to him. “Spike,” she said and reached for him. But before her hand touched him, Spike turned and lunged at her with a growl.
Dawn screamed.
Chapter 11
A/N: Any mistakes are my fault. Most probably because of post-beta tinkering, which I really shouldn't do.
Telling Buffy that she needed a virgin for the ritual was a novel idea, or so Willow thought. She knew most of the residents of Sunnydale had left, and even if some had stayed, Buffy wouldn't really know who was a virgin or not. It wasn't much of a plan, but it would have to do. It would at least give Spike enough time to help her and Buffy. As long as Buffy didn't find out that Willow had absolutely no clue what the text said and that she had no plans to find out, she would be fine.
“The heart of a virgin? Really?” Buffy asked. She’d arrived at the crypt several hours earlier and had not slept. Apparently this meant that Willow shouldn't get any sleep either. She was sitting on a chair near Willow, who was sitting on the floor with books and papers surrounding her.
By the doubtful look Buffy was giving her, Willow thought she'd gone too far with that one, even if it had seemed like Buffy believed what she'd said. She swallowed. She watched way too much television, she thought. The heart of a virgin thing she’d come up with was just too much.
“Y-yes. And you have to cut it out w-with a... with a stake.” Willow cringed at her own lame lie. It was the first thing that popped into her head. She couldn't believe she didn't make up a mystical knife or sword or whatnot, which would have been much more believable. “That's all I have so far. I still need to interpret the incantations and all the other... important stuff.” She ducked her head, her voice fading while she said the last line.
Buffy only raised her eyebrows as if saying wow. Willow was surprised as well as relieved at Buffy's gullibility. She'd been trying to be as calm and as cooperative as possible in the hope that Buffy would let her guard down and start trusting her a little. If she could make Buffy believe she was with her all the way then maybe Buffy would lessen the number of demons watching and guarding her every move. Any noise, any slight move or hint she was trying to use her mind for magic and a demon would approach her. If stalling until Spike could help didn’t work out, she knew her only hope for escape would be if Buffy and the demons thought of her as one of them.
“That's really morbid. I kind of feel bad for Dawn now,” Buffy said. She looked to her right and saw Roh'gna signaling her. It was time.
Willow jerked her head up at Buffy who was now standing and was about to leave. “Dawn? Our Dawn? Previously-ball-of-energy-slash-mystical-key Dawn?”
“Uh-huh.” Buffy briskly walked past Willow and was soon ascending the ladder.
Willow was so shocked she couldn’t speak. It seemed as if she had only made things worse.
The government chip in Spike's brain fired before the irrepressible demon that had burst out of him managed to lay a finger on Dawn. It was the first time since he had the chip that he actually thanked God for the piercing pain that shot through his head. He staggered backwards, holding his head and screaming, and hit the wall with a loud thump.
The noise made Dawn twitch. She had fallen on her buttocks to the floor and was now sitting still, gazing up at the now human-faced Spike. She watched him pant, eyes closed, as he tried to regain his composure. She was breathing quickly as well, her heart still pounding in fear. The first time she tried to speak, nothing but a squeak came out. She closed her half-opened mouth and swallowed hard. When she tried to speak again, she managed to ask, “What-what happened?”
Spike opened his eyes, bent his head and looked at Dawn. She deserved the truth. “I can't control it.”
“Control what?” Dawn asked as she stood up.
“The demon. My blood lust.” Spike gazed at the floor. “What I am,” he whispered sullenly.
“Spike...”
Spike faced her again. “You have to go back to L.A. It's safer for you there.”
“I feel safer here, with you. They don't care about me ther–”
“I just tried to kill you, Dawn.”
“But you didn't!”
“The chip stopped me. What if I didn't have this sodding chip in my head? What then, hm?” Spike said with his hands on his waist, head tilted to one side, eyebrows raised.
Dawn sighed. She cared too much for Spike to even think about leaving him alone, especially now that he had another problem. “But you do. And I'm fine. You can't hurt me, right? You can't hurt anyone.”
Spike wanted to agree but he wasn't so sure any more. The chip may have contained his urges before, but now they just felt bigger than him. Stronger. He shook his head and started to reach for her but instantly dropped his arm, setting his hand on top of the island instead. “Bloody stubborn, you are. Just like your sister.”
Dawn grinned and covered his hand with hers. “Summers women are stubborn.”
“Won't argue with that,” he said, unsmiling. He knew he couldn't force Dawn to do anything she didn't want to do. He'd have to find a way to get her away from all the madness without her knowing it.
Dawn was the first to let go. “Do you know what might have caused this?” she asked.
Buffy, he thought. But Dawn didn't have to know that. “I have an idea, yeah.” And the bitch was going to pay, he thought.
If Spike could see Buffy now, he’d know it was punishment enough for Buffy that Dawn still hadn't come out of the house.
“What the fuck is taking so long?” Buffy paced. “Where the hell is my virgin?”
She and Tehg'do were behind some bushes near the Summers' house, waiting for Dawn to run out. But after the two screams they heard, everything stayed quiet. Buffy feared Spike had killed Dawn. “This is all your fault!” she said and turned to Tehg'do. Her hands were shaking with fury.
“You wanted a way to eliminate the virgin's guardian,” the green demon almost roared, “and we gave you one!”
Buffy turned as she said, “Ugh!” and walked away from the demon. A few seconds later, she rushed back to him, pulling a knife from her pocket and thrusting it through his stomach. Tehg'do stared at her, mouth open, and eyes wide, while she drove the knife upward, slicing a line through the demon's mid-section. As if that weren’t enough, at the top of her stroke, she turned the blade and cut another line, this time a short, diagonal one. “There's your one.” She pushed the limp body off the knife and it fell to the ground.
Spike was going to be number two.
Telling Buffy that she needed a virgin for the ritual was a novel idea, or so Willow thought. She knew most of the residents of Sunnydale had left, and even if some had stayed, Buffy wouldn't really know who was a virgin or not. It wasn't much of a plan, but it would have to do. It would at least give Spike enough time to help her and Buffy. As long as Buffy didn't find out that Willow had absolutely no clue what the text said and that she had no plans to find out, she would be fine.
“The heart of a virgin? Really?” Buffy asked. She’d arrived at the crypt several hours earlier and had not slept. Apparently this meant that Willow shouldn't get any sleep either. She was sitting on a chair near Willow, who was sitting on the floor with books and papers surrounding her.
By the doubtful look Buffy was giving her, Willow thought she'd gone too far with that one, even if it had seemed like Buffy believed what she'd said. She swallowed. She watched way too much television, she thought. The heart of a virgin thing she’d come up with was just too much.
“Y-yes. And you have to cut it out w-with a... with a stake.” Willow cringed at her own lame lie. It was the first thing that popped into her head. She couldn't believe she didn't make up a mystical knife or sword or whatnot, which would have been much more believable. “That's all I have so far. I still need to interpret the incantations and all the other... important stuff.” She ducked her head, her voice fading while she said the last line.
Buffy only raised her eyebrows as if saying wow. Willow was surprised as well as relieved at Buffy's gullibility. She'd been trying to be as calm and as cooperative as possible in the hope that Buffy would let her guard down and start trusting her a little. If she could make Buffy believe she was with her all the way then maybe Buffy would lessen the number of demons watching and guarding her every move. Any noise, any slight move or hint she was trying to use her mind for magic and a demon would approach her. If stalling until Spike could help didn’t work out, she knew her only hope for escape would be if Buffy and the demons thought of her as one of them.
“That's really morbid. I kind of feel bad for Dawn now,” Buffy said. She looked to her right and saw Roh'gna signaling her. It was time.
Willow jerked her head up at Buffy who was now standing and was about to leave. “Dawn? Our Dawn? Previously-ball-of-energy-slash-mystical-key Dawn?”
“Uh-huh.” Buffy briskly walked past Willow and was soon ascending the ladder.
Willow was so shocked she couldn’t speak. It seemed as if she had only made things worse.
The government chip in Spike's brain fired before the irrepressible demon that had burst out of him managed to lay a finger on Dawn. It was the first time since he had the chip that he actually thanked God for the piercing pain that shot through his head. He staggered backwards, holding his head and screaming, and hit the wall with a loud thump.
The noise made Dawn twitch. She had fallen on her buttocks to the floor and was now sitting still, gazing up at the now human-faced Spike. She watched him pant, eyes closed, as he tried to regain his composure. She was breathing quickly as well, her heart still pounding in fear. The first time she tried to speak, nothing but a squeak came out. She closed her half-opened mouth and swallowed hard. When she tried to speak again, she managed to ask, “What-what happened?”
Spike opened his eyes, bent his head and looked at Dawn. She deserved the truth. “I can't control it.”
“Control what?” Dawn asked as she stood up.
“The demon. My blood lust.” Spike gazed at the floor. “What I am,” he whispered sullenly.
“Spike...”
Spike faced her again. “You have to go back to L.A. It's safer for you there.”
“I feel safer here, with you. They don't care about me ther–”
“I just tried to kill you, Dawn.”
“But you didn't!”
“The chip stopped me. What if I didn't have this sodding chip in my head? What then, hm?” Spike said with his hands on his waist, head tilted to one side, eyebrows raised.
Dawn sighed. She cared too much for Spike to even think about leaving him alone, especially now that he had another problem. “But you do. And I'm fine. You can't hurt me, right? You can't hurt anyone.”
Spike wanted to agree but he wasn't so sure any more. The chip may have contained his urges before, but now they just felt bigger than him. Stronger. He shook his head and started to reach for her but instantly dropped his arm, setting his hand on top of the island instead. “Bloody stubborn, you are. Just like your sister.”
Dawn grinned and covered his hand with hers. “Summers women are stubborn.”
“Won't argue with that,” he said, unsmiling. He knew he couldn't force Dawn to do anything she didn't want to do. He'd have to find a way to get her away from all the madness without her knowing it.
Dawn was the first to let go. “Do you know what might have caused this?” she asked.
Buffy, he thought. But Dawn didn't have to know that. “I have an idea, yeah.” And the bitch was going to pay, he thought.
If Spike could see Buffy now, he’d know it was punishment enough for Buffy that Dawn still hadn't come out of the house.
“What the fuck is taking so long?” Buffy paced. “Where the hell is my virgin?”
She and Tehg'do were behind some bushes near the Summers' house, waiting for Dawn to run out. But after the two screams they heard, everything stayed quiet. Buffy feared Spike had killed Dawn. “This is all your fault!” she said and turned to Tehg'do. Her hands were shaking with fury.
“You wanted a way to eliminate the virgin's guardian,” the green demon almost roared, “and we gave you one!”
Buffy turned as she said, “Ugh!” and walked away from the demon. A few seconds later, she rushed back to him, pulling a knife from her pocket and thrusting it through his stomach. Tehg'do stared at her, mouth open, and eyes wide, while she drove the knife upward, slicing a line through the demon's mid-section. As if that weren’t enough, at the top of her stroke, she turned the blade and cut another line, this time a short, diagonal one. “There's your one.” She pushed the limp body off the knife and it fell to the ground.
Spike was going to be number two.
Chapter 12
Buffy went back to the Summers' home with two demons who were willing to do her dirty work for her. She finally came up with another plan – one she knew was going to work because it was hers. Listening to her minions' advice was definitely the wrong move. It was high time that she took full control of the situation instead of taking the advice of unreliable demons.
The plan Teh'gdo had suggested failed and she had no idea why. Looking at the lit living room, she knew Dawn had not been killed. Her new plan was foolproof. She turned to the two demons on her left, Duh'ma and Kemet. “Dumb and Dumber, check the house.”
The two demons shot each other glances before nodding. As Rohg'na instructed them, it was better to follow orders from the bitch now and do whatever the hell they wanted after she gave them what she'd promised. Without speaking, they walked up the front porch and kicked the front door down, startling Spike and Dawn who were watching TV.
When the demons broke into the house, Spike, who had been sitting on a chair across from Dawn, quickly stood up. Dawn screamed and jumped off the couch, immediately clutching at Spike's arm.
“There she is,” one of the demons said and pointed at Dawn.
Spike glanced at an alarmed Dawn; he realized they were after her and that Buffy was behind everything. He was certain, more than ever, that Buffy had done something to him, possibly drugged him, so he would scare Dawn away.
As the demons advanced toward them, Spike stepped sideways and blocked their path, giving Dawn time to back away and huddle in one corner. “You lot just don't give up, do you?” he said, his head titled to one side.
“This does not concern you,” Duh’ma said. It lifted its bulky left arm, ready to punch Spike with a sledgehammer-like fist.
Instinctively, Spike raised an arm to block the demon's attack and used the other to punch it in its thick stomach. “The hell it doesn't,” Spike said as Duh'ma doubled over in pain. A kick out to the side and Spike stopped Kemet from getting past him and reaching Dawn. Kemet fell back on the couch and roared when one of the protruding springs poked it.
Duh'ma recovered quickly and caught Spike off guard, managing to grab the vampire and lift him up almost over its head.
“Not good!” Spike said. By the time he closed his eyes to steel himself, the demon had thrown him across the room and he hit the frame of the fireplace. Dawn watched, her face pale with worry as Spike fell to the floor. He winced when his already injured arm struck the ground. Spike hurriedly rose to his feet, groaning and holding his arm. Both demons were standing before him, grinning smugly and ready to attack once more.
Not waiting for them to make the first move, Spike lunged at them, socked Kemet on its snout and assailed Duh'ma with his elbow, immediately reaching for its head. Before he could grab Duh'ma, Kemet hooked his arm around Spike's neck and hauled him backwards.
“Now, now. There's no need to be greedy,” Spike said, his voice hoarse. “You should learn to share.” He elbowed the demon in its abdomen and bashed its face with his knuckles before he spun around, grabbed its head, and snapped its neck.
The moment Spike turned to Duh'ma the demon knocked him in the face. Clenching his jaw and spitting out the blood in his mouth, Spike swung and hit the demon with an uppercut. He followed that with a kick to the side of its knee. It fell to its knees, partially turned away from Spike, and with one hard, final side-kick to its spine, he killed the demon. Spike wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand as he inhaled deeply.
Dawn slowly got on her feet and walked toward Spike while he glared at the two dead demons lying on the floor. “Where's that grr,” she used her hands to imitate claws, “when you need it, huh?”
Spike looked up, cocked his head and squinted at her. She bit her lip to stifle a smile.
Spike was starting to relax when he heard a noise outside. “Did you hear that?”
Dawn's smile disappeared once more. “What? There's more of them?” Her lips were pressed together firmly; she was scared and Spike saw it in her eyes.
Spike took her by the arms and made her face him. “Dawn, you have to come with me. I can't leave you here alone. It's not safe for you. Do you trust me?”
Dawn nodded, hesitantly.
“Listen to me. We have to get you out of here. I won't let anything happen to you, all right?”
Dawn nodded again, this time more confidently.
Spike looked at Dawn for a second more before letting go. “Right, then.” He turned to grab his coat from the couch and quietly said, “This time I'm gonna keep my promise.” He grabbed his coat and put it on. “Come on.”
As quietly as possible, they went out through the now nonexistent front door into the yard. As soon as they stepped off the porch, Buffy came out from behind the tree she'd been waiting behind.
“Hello, Spike,” she said, grinning mischievously.
Dawn grabbed Spike's hand as Spike moved closer to her. “Slayer. Didn't know you came for the shindig.” He suddenly felt uneasy when he heard noises all around them. Soon, five demons encircled them. At least five that he could see. Spike breathed sharply. “Great.”
Buffy laced her arms over her chest, a mocking smirk on her face. “You underestimate me, Spike. I would have thought fighting with me and against me all these years, you'd know me better.”
“No one really knows you, love. Not of late.”
“Do you really think I'd leave two morons to do what I should have done long ago?”
Spike looked around and chuckled, glancing at his shoes. “So, just to be clear,” he started, and looked up at Buffy. “You're not going to make two morons to do your work. Instead, you're making five morons do it.” He snorted while he nodded. “It's good to know you think so highly of me, slayer. I'm flattered, love. Really.”
Buffy only continued to smirk. “They're not here for you.”
“Spike!” Dawn cried as two demons pulled her from Spike's grip. She struggled to try to free herself from the demons holding her.
Spike turned around. He was still struggling to believe Buffy would hurt Dawn. It was utter madness. She was her sister for fuck's sake! He started for Dawn but the slayer blocked him. He glared at her, knowing that the only way to get to Dawn was through her.
“Take her to the crypt,” she ordered the demons.
Spike watched as they dragged her away, his eyes dark with fury.
Buffy advanced toward him. “It's time to do what I should have done a long time ago.”
“You can try, pet,” Spike said, his jaw clenched with tightly controlled fury.
“Oh, I will,” Buffy said and lashed out at him.
Spike backpedaled and slapped her hand away, laughing. “You call that trying?”
Buffy stepped forward and punched him square in the jaw. “How's that?” With Spike's head turned to the side, she took out a stake from her pocket and raised it up, ready to strike.
Spike saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and caught her wrist, stopping her just as the stake prodded against his chest. He tried to take the stake from her hand, while Buffy tried to force the stake into his chest. When it didn't work, she tried to break free of his hold. They struggled for control of the stake for a few moments, and with one final surge, it was plunged into flesh. Spike let go of the stake and stepped back. Buffy put a hand to her wound, wincing in pain when she looked down at it.
“Don't worry, love. You heal fast, remember?”
Buffy glanced back up at Spike, her brows creased and the corner of her upper lip twitching in irritation. She kicked out at him but he caught her leg, twisted it and threw her across the lawn. She crashed into a tree and fell to the ground, dazed. Taking the opportunity, Spike took off after Dawn.
Buffy slowly rose to her feet, leaning against the tree for balance. She shook her head to clear the daze and staggered down the street after Spike. By the time she reached the corner, she was running. She had to catch him before he ruined her plans.
When he arrived at Restfield, Spike was able to follow Dawn's scent. Soon he was close enough to hear her struggling with her captors, and as he came around the side of a tomb, he saw the demons dragging Dawn into his old crypt.
Before Spike could follow them, he heard footsteps behind him. Buffy had caught up to him.
“You didn’t think it'd be that easy, did you?” she said and kicked him in the abdomen as soon as he spun around to face her, making him stagger backwards.
“What's the matter? You used to kick much harder.” When he straightened up, he smirked at her with his tongue curled behind his teeth. “Must have something to do with that skintight leather you're wearing.”
Buffy ground her teeth and aimed a punch at Spike’s face, missing him by an inch when he moved his head.
“That all you got?”
Her whole body trembled with anger and she assailed him more fiercely, kicking him and striking him every chance she got until Spike fell to the ground on his back. She stood over him. “Had enough?”
“Not even close.” Spike panted heavily. He rolled over, his fingers digging into the soil. “This is just foreplay,” he said as he stood up, his voice husky. He punched her on the nose and as she staggered backwards, she stumbled over a twig. She fell flat to the ground, and this time Spike was going to make the most of the opportunity.
He stood over her, one foot on either side of her torso. Clucking his tongue, he straddled her while she breathed with quick, short breaths. He put one of his hands over her mouth, and pinned her wrists above her head to the ground with the other, gripping them so hard her hands were starting to turn white. She struggled against his hands, against his whole weight, but to no avail. She tried to scream, but a muffled cry was all she could manage. She strained to look around, to see if her demons had come to help her. None of them were there. All of them were inside Spike's crypt, with Dawn and Willow – the two things they needed for the ritual.
Amber eyes focused intently on her dark, fierce ones. Spike had gone, William the Bloody had taken over.
He saw the blood at the corner of her luscious lips. He leaned over and licked it, making Buffy shudder. Uttering a low growl, Spike slowly sank his fangs bit by bit into her neck and Buffy tried to scream, tried to move. But William the Bloody was stronger. Darker. He was a monster. He drank down her blood until Buffy's body stopped twitching, until her heart stopped beating. Until she was nothing but a lifeless corpse in his arms.
The plan Teh'gdo had suggested failed and she had no idea why. Looking at the lit living room, she knew Dawn had not been killed. Her new plan was foolproof. She turned to the two demons on her left, Duh'ma and Kemet. “Dumb and Dumber, check the house.”
The two demons shot each other glances before nodding. As Rohg'na instructed them, it was better to follow orders from the bitch now and do whatever the hell they wanted after she gave them what she'd promised. Without speaking, they walked up the front porch and kicked the front door down, startling Spike and Dawn who were watching TV.
When the demons broke into the house, Spike, who had been sitting on a chair across from Dawn, quickly stood up. Dawn screamed and jumped off the couch, immediately clutching at Spike's arm.
“There she is,” one of the demons said and pointed at Dawn.
Spike glanced at an alarmed Dawn; he realized they were after her and that Buffy was behind everything. He was certain, more than ever, that Buffy had done something to him, possibly drugged him, so he would scare Dawn away.
As the demons advanced toward them, Spike stepped sideways and blocked their path, giving Dawn time to back away and huddle in one corner. “You lot just don't give up, do you?” he said, his head titled to one side.
“This does not concern you,” Duh’ma said. It lifted its bulky left arm, ready to punch Spike with a sledgehammer-like fist.
Instinctively, Spike raised an arm to block the demon's attack and used the other to punch it in its thick stomach. “The hell it doesn't,” Spike said as Duh'ma doubled over in pain. A kick out to the side and Spike stopped Kemet from getting past him and reaching Dawn. Kemet fell back on the couch and roared when one of the protruding springs poked it.
Duh'ma recovered quickly and caught Spike off guard, managing to grab the vampire and lift him up almost over its head.
“Not good!” Spike said. By the time he closed his eyes to steel himself, the demon had thrown him across the room and he hit the frame of the fireplace. Dawn watched, her face pale with worry as Spike fell to the floor. He winced when his already injured arm struck the ground. Spike hurriedly rose to his feet, groaning and holding his arm. Both demons were standing before him, grinning smugly and ready to attack once more.
Not waiting for them to make the first move, Spike lunged at them, socked Kemet on its snout and assailed Duh'ma with his elbow, immediately reaching for its head. Before he could grab Duh'ma, Kemet hooked his arm around Spike's neck and hauled him backwards.
“Now, now. There's no need to be greedy,” Spike said, his voice hoarse. “You should learn to share.” He elbowed the demon in its abdomen and bashed its face with his knuckles before he spun around, grabbed its head, and snapped its neck.
The moment Spike turned to Duh'ma the demon knocked him in the face. Clenching his jaw and spitting out the blood in his mouth, Spike swung and hit the demon with an uppercut. He followed that with a kick to the side of its knee. It fell to its knees, partially turned away from Spike, and with one hard, final side-kick to its spine, he killed the demon. Spike wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand as he inhaled deeply.
Dawn slowly got on her feet and walked toward Spike while he glared at the two dead demons lying on the floor. “Where's that grr,” she used her hands to imitate claws, “when you need it, huh?”
Spike looked up, cocked his head and squinted at her. She bit her lip to stifle a smile.
Spike was starting to relax when he heard a noise outside. “Did you hear that?”
Dawn's smile disappeared once more. “What? There's more of them?” Her lips were pressed together firmly; she was scared and Spike saw it in her eyes.
Spike took her by the arms and made her face him. “Dawn, you have to come with me. I can't leave you here alone. It's not safe for you. Do you trust me?”
Dawn nodded, hesitantly.
“Listen to me. We have to get you out of here. I won't let anything happen to you, all right?”
Dawn nodded again, this time more confidently.
Spike looked at Dawn for a second more before letting go. “Right, then.” He turned to grab his coat from the couch and quietly said, “This time I'm gonna keep my promise.” He grabbed his coat and put it on. “Come on.”
As quietly as possible, they went out through the now nonexistent front door into the yard. As soon as they stepped off the porch, Buffy came out from behind the tree she'd been waiting behind.
“Hello, Spike,” she said, grinning mischievously.
Dawn grabbed Spike's hand as Spike moved closer to her. “Slayer. Didn't know you came for the shindig.” He suddenly felt uneasy when he heard noises all around them. Soon, five demons encircled them. At least five that he could see. Spike breathed sharply. “Great.”
Buffy laced her arms over her chest, a mocking smirk on her face. “You underestimate me, Spike. I would have thought fighting with me and against me all these years, you'd know me better.”
“No one really knows you, love. Not of late.”
“Do you really think I'd leave two morons to do what I should have done long ago?”
Spike looked around and chuckled, glancing at his shoes. “So, just to be clear,” he started, and looked up at Buffy. “You're not going to make two morons to do your work. Instead, you're making five morons do it.” He snorted while he nodded. “It's good to know you think so highly of me, slayer. I'm flattered, love. Really.”
Buffy only continued to smirk. “They're not here for you.”
“Spike!” Dawn cried as two demons pulled her from Spike's grip. She struggled to try to free herself from the demons holding her.
Spike turned around. He was still struggling to believe Buffy would hurt Dawn. It was utter madness. She was her sister for fuck's sake! He started for Dawn but the slayer blocked him. He glared at her, knowing that the only way to get to Dawn was through her.
“Take her to the crypt,” she ordered the demons.
Spike watched as they dragged her away, his eyes dark with fury.
Buffy advanced toward him. “It's time to do what I should have done a long time ago.”
“You can try, pet,” Spike said, his jaw clenched with tightly controlled fury.
“Oh, I will,” Buffy said and lashed out at him.
Spike backpedaled and slapped her hand away, laughing. “You call that trying?”
Buffy stepped forward and punched him square in the jaw. “How's that?” With Spike's head turned to the side, she took out a stake from her pocket and raised it up, ready to strike.
Spike saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and caught her wrist, stopping her just as the stake prodded against his chest. He tried to take the stake from her hand, while Buffy tried to force the stake into his chest. When it didn't work, she tried to break free of his hold. They struggled for control of the stake for a few moments, and with one final surge, it was plunged into flesh. Spike let go of the stake and stepped back. Buffy put a hand to her wound, wincing in pain when she looked down at it.
“Don't worry, love. You heal fast, remember?”
Buffy glanced back up at Spike, her brows creased and the corner of her upper lip twitching in irritation. She kicked out at him but he caught her leg, twisted it and threw her across the lawn. She crashed into a tree and fell to the ground, dazed. Taking the opportunity, Spike took off after Dawn.
Buffy slowly rose to her feet, leaning against the tree for balance. She shook her head to clear the daze and staggered down the street after Spike. By the time she reached the corner, she was running. She had to catch him before he ruined her plans.
When he arrived at Restfield, Spike was able to follow Dawn's scent. Soon he was close enough to hear her struggling with her captors, and as he came around the side of a tomb, he saw the demons dragging Dawn into his old crypt.
Before Spike could follow them, he heard footsteps behind him. Buffy had caught up to him.
“You didn’t think it'd be that easy, did you?” she said and kicked him in the abdomen as soon as he spun around to face her, making him stagger backwards.
“What's the matter? You used to kick much harder.” When he straightened up, he smirked at her with his tongue curled behind his teeth. “Must have something to do with that skintight leather you're wearing.”
Buffy ground her teeth and aimed a punch at Spike’s face, missing him by an inch when he moved his head.
“That all you got?”
Her whole body trembled with anger and she assailed him more fiercely, kicking him and striking him every chance she got until Spike fell to the ground on his back. She stood over him. “Had enough?”
“Not even close.” Spike panted heavily. He rolled over, his fingers digging into the soil. “This is just foreplay,” he said as he stood up, his voice husky. He punched her on the nose and as she staggered backwards, she stumbled over a twig. She fell flat to the ground, and this time Spike was going to make the most of the opportunity.
He stood over her, one foot on either side of her torso. Clucking his tongue, he straddled her while she breathed with quick, short breaths. He put one of his hands over her mouth, and pinned her wrists above her head to the ground with the other, gripping them so hard her hands were starting to turn white. She struggled against his hands, against his whole weight, but to no avail. She tried to scream, but a muffled cry was all she could manage. She strained to look around, to see if her demons had come to help her. None of them were there. All of them were inside Spike's crypt, with Dawn and Willow – the two things they needed for the ritual.
Amber eyes focused intently on her dark, fierce ones. Spike had gone, William the Bloody had taken over.
He saw the blood at the corner of her luscious lips. He leaned over and licked it, making Buffy shudder. Uttering a low growl, Spike slowly sank his fangs bit by bit into her neck and Buffy tried to scream, tried to move. But William the Bloody was stronger. Darker. He was a monster. He drank down her blood until Buffy's body stopped twitching, until her heart stopped beating. Until she was nothing but a lifeless corpse in his arms.
Chapter 13
There was only desolation in the crisp silence of the night. Spike sat before the reality of what he'd done, his arms barely propping him up. The world around him blurred into salty tears but in his mind, everything was clear. He had killed his third slayer.
Without thinking about it, he lifted his hand up to his face and wiped the blood on the side of his mouth with his thumb. He looked at his unsteady hand and saw her blood. Tears streamed down his cheeks even more fiercely.
The rush of slayer blood through his whole body had weakened and he could no longer feel its power. It was funny how for all those years, he'd wanted nothing more than to have a taste of it, to feel its power running through his veins. Now it only seemed irrelevant, it was foolish and pointless.
To stop his chin from trembling, he bit his lip. When he tasted her blood, he grimaced, spat it out and wiped his lips with the back of his wrist. He gazed at her again. No matter what she'd become, she didn’t deserve this. He lowered his eyes to the ground.
Hauling himself up on his knees, he began to crawl toward her while he told himself it wasn't real. He'd never been able to kill this slayer any of the times he'd tried. She was stronger than those before her. She was smarter, braver. She was the one and he shouldn't – couldn't – have been able to kill her in just a matter of minutes. No, with this one, it took years.
“Buffy.” He could barely say her name as he reached for her pale arm. She felt cold to his touch and though he knew better, he still started to shake her. “Buffy. You have to get up, love.” His voice broke but he shook her harder. She remained unmoving. “Oh, God,” he whimpered and buried his face in his hands. “God, no. Please,” he said, sobbing as he bent over her body.
When he heard a loud shriek from inside his crypt, his head shot up, eyebrows drawn together, and remembered Dawn was still inside with the Oug demons. “Dawn,” he whispered and glanced back down at his beloved Buffy. Her eyes were wide but lifeless as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her. He laid her at the foot of a tree in the hope that no one would find her there. Wiping his tears, he mumbled, “I'm gonna be right back, Buffy. I'll be right back,” before standing up and heading for his crypt.
Two demons stood on guard by the door but Spike made no attempt to move stealthily. He didn't care if they saw him. He wanted them to and when they both did, he grabbed the one on the left and threw it before either one could attack. The demon landed on a tombstone with a growl as Spike used the other as a battering ram, shoving it against the door repeatedly until the door broke down. He thrust the unconscious demon to the ground and, stepping over its body, approached the hole.
Demons surrounded Dawn, her hands tied at her back. Roh'gna was playing with her, talking about how he was going to be stronger than any slayer. Dawn pulled away with her jaw clenched.
Willow stood behind them, waiting for the right time to jump in and help Dawn.
Spike moved quickly into the hole and descended the ladder. The noise he'd made when he jumped from the third to the last step made all twelve demons look at him.
“Spike!” He barely heard Dawn cry. Things were still a blur to him but he knew why he was there. He had to get Dawn and Willow to safety.
Spike yelled and, in the second of hesitation this engendered in the demons, he assailed the first few within arm’s reach. Soon however, all the other demons surrounded him and all too quickly those he'd stunned recovered. His vampire strength alone wasn't enough to help him take on twelve demons in his half-dazed state. He fell back while throwing punches that barely stung the demons encircling him until he was backed up against the wall. He stopped fighting back. The demons continued to assault him.
He deserved to die for what he’d done to Buffy. He knew Dawn would never forgive him and the rest of the Scoobies would want him dead. Hell, they'd do it. They'd kill him. And he'd rather die now than live with the guilt and the pain of knowing that he'd killed the love of his life. He'd rather die than see the look on Dawn's face, on all their faces.
With the demons distracted by Spike, Willow rushed towards Dawn and untied her. With a wave of her hand and a quietly muttered word, she threw a nearby chair at one of the demons, sending it to its knees. Just as quickly, she flung another of the demons gathered around Spike across the chamber where it collided with the wall. Dawn, in the meantime, had found a candlestick and was using it to clobber another demon. The commotion drew the attention of a few of the demons, who turned away from Spike and started advancing on the two girls. Dawn shrank back, holding onto her weapon as if she were holding onto dear life while Willow stood protectively in front of her.
“Spike!” Dawn and Willow cried. Their voices echoed in his head as he spiraled towards unconsciousness, the sight of the two girls calling for him blurred with black dots. He fought the pull when he realized Willow still needed help in saving Dawn; at least that would be one good thing he could do before he dusted. He swung his arm at the demons before him and he could feel his rage seething inside of him. He could feel the demon wanting to be released again, and gladly he let it come.
With a roar, he slammed his fist into the shoulder of the demon in front of him. The demon stumbled back into the others, giving Spike time to pick up a blade that was lying in the corner. He lashed out and stabbed the nearest demon. Turning to his right, his fist crunched into one more demon's face. It retaliated with a kick to his side. Spike screamed in pain.
The demons' attention diverted from Willow and Dawn and they started attacking Spike again. He fought them one at a time, punching, kneeing, kicking. He'd been hit a couple of times but he recovered quickly each time, his fury, guilt, and blood lust fueling his every move..
When the demons were either unconscious or dead, Spike turned to Dawn who was huddled in one corner and Willow who was standing in front of her. He saw blood on the side of Willow's forehead and instantly moved towards them as fast as his beaten body allowed. Willow's eyes went wide with fear. Before Spike reached them, he recoiled with a cry, grabbing his head with both hands.
He regained control of himself and, now in his human face, said, “Come on.” Willow and Dawn exchanged a look before following Spike out of his crypt.
Once they were a few yards from the crypt, Spike stopped running. Dawn and Willow stopped too and faced him. “Go on! Get out of here!” Spike said in a loud whisper.
Willow raised her eyebrows. “Where are you going?” she asked.
Dawn shook her head. “No. We can't leave you here. The demons will come after you,” she said.
Evading their questioning gazes, Spike ducked his head and said, “I have something to take care of.” He looked up at them. “Now go.”
Dawn studied him, hesitant about leaving him alone. “Be careful,” she said. She and Willow ran out of the cemetery, leaving Spike behind, without a clue about what he'd done.
As soon as they were out of sight, Spike headed to where he had left Buffy only to discover her body was no longer there.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered, completely perplexed.
Without thinking about it, he lifted his hand up to his face and wiped the blood on the side of his mouth with his thumb. He looked at his unsteady hand and saw her blood. Tears streamed down his cheeks even more fiercely.
The rush of slayer blood through his whole body had weakened and he could no longer feel its power. It was funny how for all those years, he'd wanted nothing more than to have a taste of it, to feel its power running through his veins. Now it only seemed irrelevant, it was foolish and pointless.
To stop his chin from trembling, he bit his lip. When he tasted her blood, he grimaced, spat it out and wiped his lips with the back of his wrist. He gazed at her again. No matter what she'd become, she didn’t deserve this. He lowered his eyes to the ground.
Hauling himself up on his knees, he began to crawl toward her while he told himself it wasn't real. He'd never been able to kill this slayer any of the times he'd tried. She was stronger than those before her. She was smarter, braver. She was the one and he shouldn't – couldn't – have been able to kill her in just a matter of minutes. No, with this one, it took years.
“Buffy.” He could barely say her name as he reached for her pale arm. She felt cold to his touch and though he knew better, he still started to shake her. “Buffy. You have to get up, love.” His voice broke but he shook her harder. She remained unmoving. “Oh, God,” he whimpered and buried his face in his hands. “God, no. Please,” he said, sobbing as he bent over her body.
When he heard a loud shriek from inside his crypt, his head shot up, eyebrows drawn together, and remembered Dawn was still inside with the Oug demons. “Dawn,” he whispered and glanced back down at his beloved Buffy. Her eyes were wide but lifeless as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her. He laid her at the foot of a tree in the hope that no one would find her there. Wiping his tears, he mumbled, “I'm gonna be right back, Buffy. I'll be right back,” before standing up and heading for his crypt.
Two demons stood on guard by the door but Spike made no attempt to move stealthily. He didn't care if they saw him. He wanted them to and when they both did, he grabbed the one on the left and threw it before either one could attack. The demon landed on a tombstone with a growl as Spike used the other as a battering ram, shoving it against the door repeatedly until the door broke down. He thrust the unconscious demon to the ground and, stepping over its body, approached the hole.
Demons surrounded Dawn, her hands tied at her back. Roh'gna was playing with her, talking about how he was going to be stronger than any slayer. Dawn pulled away with her jaw clenched.
Willow stood behind them, waiting for the right time to jump in and help Dawn.
Spike moved quickly into the hole and descended the ladder. The noise he'd made when he jumped from the third to the last step made all twelve demons look at him.
“Spike!” He barely heard Dawn cry. Things were still a blur to him but he knew why he was there. He had to get Dawn and Willow to safety.
Spike yelled and, in the second of hesitation this engendered in the demons, he assailed the first few within arm’s reach. Soon however, all the other demons surrounded him and all too quickly those he'd stunned recovered. His vampire strength alone wasn't enough to help him take on twelve demons in his half-dazed state. He fell back while throwing punches that barely stung the demons encircling him until he was backed up against the wall. He stopped fighting back. The demons continued to assault him.
He deserved to die for what he’d done to Buffy. He knew Dawn would never forgive him and the rest of the Scoobies would want him dead. Hell, they'd do it. They'd kill him. And he'd rather die now than live with the guilt and the pain of knowing that he'd killed the love of his life. He'd rather die than see the look on Dawn's face, on all their faces.
With the demons distracted by Spike, Willow rushed towards Dawn and untied her. With a wave of her hand and a quietly muttered word, she threw a nearby chair at one of the demons, sending it to its knees. Just as quickly, she flung another of the demons gathered around Spike across the chamber where it collided with the wall. Dawn, in the meantime, had found a candlestick and was using it to clobber another demon. The commotion drew the attention of a few of the demons, who turned away from Spike and started advancing on the two girls. Dawn shrank back, holding onto her weapon as if she were holding onto dear life while Willow stood protectively in front of her.
“Spike!” Dawn and Willow cried. Their voices echoed in his head as he spiraled towards unconsciousness, the sight of the two girls calling for him blurred with black dots. He fought the pull when he realized Willow still needed help in saving Dawn; at least that would be one good thing he could do before he dusted. He swung his arm at the demons before him and he could feel his rage seething inside of him. He could feel the demon wanting to be released again, and gladly he let it come.
With a roar, he slammed his fist into the shoulder of the demon in front of him. The demon stumbled back into the others, giving Spike time to pick up a blade that was lying in the corner. He lashed out and stabbed the nearest demon. Turning to his right, his fist crunched into one more demon's face. It retaliated with a kick to his side. Spike screamed in pain.
The demons' attention diverted from Willow and Dawn and they started attacking Spike again. He fought them one at a time, punching, kneeing, kicking. He'd been hit a couple of times but he recovered quickly each time, his fury, guilt, and blood lust fueling his every move..
When the demons were either unconscious or dead, Spike turned to Dawn who was huddled in one corner and Willow who was standing in front of her. He saw blood on the side of Willow's forehead and instantly moved towards them as fast as his beaten body allowed. Willow's eyes went wide with fear. Before Spike reached them, he recoiled with a cry, grabbing his head with both hands.
He regained control of himself and, now in his human face, said, “Come on.” Willow and Dawn exchanged a look before following Spike out of his crypt.
Once they were a few yards from the crypt, Spike stopped running. Dawn and Willow stopped too and faced him. “Go on! Get out of here!” Spike said in a loud whisper.
Willow raised her eyebrows. “Where are you going?” she asked.
Dawn shook her head. “No. We can't leave you here. The demons will come after you,” she said.
Evading their questioning gazes, Spike ducked his head and said, “I have something to take care of.” He looked up at them. “Now go.”
Dawn studied him, hesitant about leaving him alone. “Be careful,” she said. She and Willow ran out of the cemetery, leaving Spike behind, without a clue about what he'd done.
As soon as they were out of sight, Spike headed to where he had left Buffy only to discover her body was no longer there.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered, completely perplexed.
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Willow had decided to head straight for the Summers' home. After everything she had been through and after everything she had seen Buffy do, she was finally willing to face the consequences of her actions and the faces of the Scoobies once she told them the truth.
“Call Xander and tell him to come here, alone. I'll put up a cloaking spell around the house so the demons won't be able to tell we're here,” Willow said to Dawn as soon as they walked across the house's threshold.
Not knowing where to start to fill in Xander on everything, Dawn asked, “What should I tell him?”
“Just tell him it's Buffy.”
Dawn looked at Willow for a moment before nodding. She headed into the living room to make the phone call while Willow ran upstairs to gather the materials she needed for the spell.
Dawn was relieved when Xander answered the phone. The panic and fear in her voice were apparent and she knew that if Angel had answered the phone, he would have asked what was wrong before letting her talk to Xander, and she doubted he would believe her if she told him everything was fine.
When Xander asked what the problem was, all she had to say was, “It's Buffy.” He didn't need anything more than that. He said he’d be there in a few hours and hung up. It was all he needed to come back to Sunnydale.
After Dawn had made the phone call and Willow had cast the cloaking spell, the two of them sat side-by-side on floor in front of the couch. Willow wrapped an arm around Dawn protectively as she moved to rest her head on Willow’s shoulder. They listened intently for noises outside the house, both unable to sleep.
“This can't be happening,” Spike said to himself as he stood in front of the tree where he was certain he'd left Buffy's body. He raised an eyebrow and put his hands on his waist, utterly bewildered about what could have happened to her.
It was a possibility that he hadn't killed her at all and everything had been another one of her ploys, but it seemed very unlikely. He’d felt her weaken in his arms as he pulled as much blood as he could, he’d heard and felt her heartbeat slow down until it came to a complete stop. Was she that good that she could have faked her own death? Surely, it wasn't possible.
When he picked up rustling noises and demons talking, he ran back to the tree and glanced behind it to observe the demons. They were looking for the three of them, and he hoped Willow and Dawn had a large enough head start so the demons would not be able to catch up to them. Listening intently for their movements, he stayed hidden until he was sure they were gone.
With a heavy sigh, he tilted his head back, resting it on the tree, and closed his eyes. He needed a clear head if he was going to figure this out.
Eyes open again, he lifted his head and looked around. A trail on the ground starting from the foot of the tree caught his attention. He cocked his head to the side and stood up, eyes still trained on the trail he could see clearly even in the dark.
Something heavy had been dragged along the ground and the path it left wasn't too clear, but it was still visible. With his brows furrowed, Spike followed the trail through the cemetery. There were areas where the ground was too hard for anything to make an impression, and it would take him a few moments to pick up the trail.
Minutes into his pursuit, the trail ended in front of the locked door of another crypt on the other side of the cemetery. He jiggled the knob a few times and when the door wouldn't open, he scanned the cemetery for any sign of the demons before giving the door a hard kick.
As he walked in, Spike glanced around the crypt. The room was lit only by the soft glow of candles that lined the shadowed stone walls. There were two sarcophagi in the center and he walked towards the one on the right, running a hand over the marble lid. The inscription read, “The key to eternal life.”
Spike continued to circle the sarcophagus until he noticed that the top was slightly askew, as if it had been recently opened. Brows quirked in curiosity, he pushed the lid open wide enough for him to see what was inside. He went and grabbed one of the longer candles from the corner and held it over the open coffin. What he saw was definitely something he had not expected. “What the hell?” Grimacing in bafflement and surprise, he pushed the lid open further. He lowered the candle deeper into the sarcophagus. There was a wooden staircase inside it.
Without hesitation, Spike jumped over the edge, and stood at the top of the staircase, looking down them. Badly beaten as he was, he didn't care. All he cared about was finding Buffy or finding out what was really going on.
After letting out a shaky breath, Spike began to stealthily descend the stairs. What little illumination there came from torches, set into sconces about a yard apart, hanging on the left side of the stone wall. Dripping water that filled the space with a stench, rats squeaking and cockroaches crunching beneath his shoes somewhat muffled the distant sound of a sobbing girl. But he heard it clearly.
He was starting to think going alone was a bad idea. Nevertheless, he continued to descend the stairs with careful, apprehensive steps. When he came to the foot of the stairs, he figured he was getting close because he could hear a woman speaking. He stopped momentarily to listen to what the woman was saying.
“Spike really doesn't know when to back off, huh? He's so annoying!” The woman paused, and exhaled deeply in frustration. “But you have to admit, he's sexy when he's evil. Don't tell me you didn't like that part.” No one answered the woman but she continued to speak. “And Willow.” She chuckled lowly. “I could feel the power in that one.”
Spike hid within the shadows as he slipped farther into the secret passageway, hoping that whatever or whoever was down there wouldn't know of his presence.
“She thinks she can do anything just because she brought you back to life. I would have liked to have seen her beg for her life, but we needed her then, didn't we? Now, since our plan is ruined thanks to your boyfriend, I guess I can have my fun.”
The woman's soliloquy was followed by an angry grunt and heavy breathing. She laughed menacingly, making the hairs on Spike's skin stand up. “Save your breath, sweetie. You need it.” The voice seemed closer. Spike was at the end of the tunnel.
He couldn't believe his eyes. It was Buffy, strapped to what looked like a hospital bed. She was alive, but barely. She looked different than she had when he left her. Her hair was disheveled, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were pale and chapped. Spike had to put a hand over his mouth when he saw the cuts and bruises on the exposed parts of her body. On a stand beside her, there were medical instruments, syringes and knives. He could only imagine what horrible things had been done to Buffy.
He furtively made his way deeper into the cave, still keeping to the shadows, and crouched in the corner. The woman was human. He could hear her heartbeat, sense the warm blood circulating in her body. He clenched his fists tightly, until his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms when his blood lust threatened his control again. He couldn't fight her. The chip would go off.
The woman spun around and exited the cave, never noticing Spike hidden in the shadows when she walked past him. When he was sure she was gone, he emerged from the shadows.
Buffy raised her head and looked at Spike groggily. Her mouth was half-open, her eyes drooped and she slowly blinked them several times.
Spike took a hesitant step toward her. “Buffy.”
Willow had decided to head straight for the Summers' home. After everything she had been through and after everything she had seen Buffy do, she was finally willing to face the consequences of her actions and the faces of the Scoobies once she told them the truth.
“Call Xander and tell him to come here, alone. I'll put up a cloaking spell around the house so the demons won't be able to tell we're here,” Willow said to Dawn as soon as they walked across the house's threshold.
Not knowing where to start to fill in Xander on everything, Dawn asked, “What should I tell him?”
“Just tell him it's Buffy.”
Dawn looked at Willow for a moment before nodding. She headed into the living room to make the phone call while Willow ran upstairs to gather the materials she needed for the spell.
Dawn was relieved when Xander answered the phone. The panic and fear in her voice were apparent and she knew that if Angel had answered the phone, he would have asked what was wrong before letting her talk to Xander, and she doubted he would believe her if she told him everything was fine.
When Xander asked what the problem was, all she had to say was, “It's Buffy.” He didn't need anything more than that. He said he’d be there in a few hours and hung up. It was all he needed to come back to Sunnydale.
After Dawn had made the phone call and Willow had cast the cloaking spell, the two of them sat side-by-side on floor in front of the couch. Willow wrapped an arm around Dawn protectively as she moved to rest her head on Willow’s shoulder. They listened intently for noises outside the house, both unable to sleep.
“This can't be happening,” Spike said to himself as he stood in front of the tree where he was certain he'd left Buffy's body. He raised an eyebrow and put his hands on his waist, utterly bewildered about what could have happened to her.
It was a possibility that he hadn't killed her at all and everything had been another one of her ploys, but it seemed very unlikely. He’d felt her weaken in his arms as he pulled as much blood as he could, he’d heard and felt her heartbeat slow down until it came to a complete stop. Was she that good that she could have faked her own death? Surely, it wasn't possible.
When he picked up rustling noises and demons talking, he ran back to the tree and glanced behind it to observe the demons. They were looking for the three of them, and he hoped Willow and Dawn had a large enough head start so the demons would not be able to catch up to them. Listening intently for their movements, he stayed hidden until he was sure they were gone.
With a heavy sigh, he tilted his head back, resting it on the tree, and closed his eyes. He needed a clear head if he was going to figure this out.
Eyes open again, he lifted his head and looked around. A trail on the ground starting from the foot of the tree caught his attention. He cocked his head to the side and stood up, eyes still trained on the trail he could see clearly even in the dark.
Something heavy had been dragged along the ground and the path it left wasn't too clear, but it was still visible. With his brows furrowed, Spike followed the trail through the cemetery. There were areas where the ground was too hard for anything to make an impression, and it would take him a few moments to pick up the trail.
Minutes into his pursuit, the trail ended in front of the locked door of another crypt on the other side of the cemetery. He jiggled the knob a few times and when the door wouldn't open, he scanned the cemetery for any sign of the demons before giving the door a hard kick.
As he walked in, Spike glanced around the crypt. The room was lit only by the soft glow of candles that lined the shadowed stone walls. There were two sarcophagi in the center and he walked towards the one on the right, running a hand over the marble lid. The inscription read, “The key to eternal life.”
Spike continued to circle the sarcophagus until he noticed that the top was slightly askew, as if it had been recently opened. Brows quirked in curiosity, he pushed the lid open wide enough for him to see what was inside. He went and grabbed one of the longer candles from the corner and held it over the open coffin. What he saw was definitely something he had not expected. “What the hell?” Grimacing in bafflement and surprise, he pushed the lid open further. He lowered the candle deeper into the sarcophagus. There was a wooden staircase inside it.
Without hesitation, Spike jumped over the edge, and stood at the top of the staircase, looking down them. Badly beaten as he was, he didn't care. All he cared about was finding Buffy or finding out what was really going on.
After letting out a shaky breath, Spike began to stealthily descend the stairs. What little illumination there came from torches, set into sconces about a yard apart, hanging on the left side of the stone wall. Dripping water that filled the space with a stench, rats squeaking and cockroaches crunching beneath his shoes somewhat muffled the distant sound of a sobbing girl. But he heard it clearly.
He was starting to think going alone was a bad idea. Nevertheless, he continued to descend the stairs with careful, apprehensive steps. When he came to the foot of the stairs, he figured he was getting close because he could hear a woman speaking. He stopped momentarily to listen to what the woman was saying.
“Spike really doesn't know when to back off, huh? He's so annoying!” The woman paused, and exhaled deeply in frustration. “But you have to admit, he's sexy when he's evil. Don't tell me you didn't like that part.” No one answered the woman but she continued to speak. “And Willow.” She chuckled lowly. “I could feel the power in that one.”
Spike hid within the shadows as he slipped farther into the secret passageway, hoping that whatever or whoever was down there wouldn't know of his presence.
“She thinks she can do anything just because she brought you back to life. I would have liked to have seen her beg for her life, but we needed her then, didn't we? Now, since our plan is ruined thanks to your boyfriend, I guess I can have my fun.”
The woman's soliloquy was followed by an angry grunt and heavy breathing. She laughed menacingly, making the hairs on Spike's skin stand up. “Save your breath, sweetie. You need it.” The voice seemed closer. Spike was at the end of the tunnel.
He couldn't believe his eyes. It was Buffy, strapped to what looked like a hospital bed. She was alive, but barely. She looked different than she had when he left her. Her hair was disheveled, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were pale and chapped. Spike had to put a hand over his mouth when he saw the cuts and bruises on the exposed parts of her body. On a stand beside her, there were medical instruments, syringes and knives. He could only imagine what horrible things had been done to Buffy.
He furtively made his way deeper into the cave, still keeping to the shadows, and crouched in the corner. The woman was human. He could hear her heartbeat, sense the warm blood circulating in her body. He clenched his fists tightly, until his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms when his blood lust threatened his control again. He couldn't fight her. The chip would go off.
The woman spun around and exited the cave, never noticing Spike hidden in the shadows when she walked past him. When he was sure she was gone, he emerged from the shadows.
Buffy raised her head and looked at Spike groggily. Her mouth was half-open, her eyes drooped and she slowly blinked them several times.
Spike took a hesitant step toward her. “Buffy.”
Chapter 15
Spike stared in amazement at Buffy. She was propped up on her elbows, staring straight at him, but it was as if she were looking through him. Her eyelids were heavy and her whole body was trembling. Spike had never seen her look so beaten and scared.
He took a step forward only to take two steps back. Gone completely daft, he did. His mind was playing tricks on him. Must be another one of the affects of the drug Buffy had given him.
Still unable to believe the vision before him, he shook his head. “But I...” He chuckled wryly. “You're not her.” He felt otherwise. Her scent was exactly as he remembered it, exactly what he'd memorized. He cocked his head, staring at her with disbelieving eyes. He gazed down at his hand. Her blood was still there. “This isn't real.”
Buffy screwed her eyes shut and opened them again, forcing her eyes to see clearly. He was still but a haze, but she knew that voice, that smell, that mix of alcohol and tobacco all too well. “Spike?” It was all she could manage to say.
Her throat hurt like a bitch, and she winced as she spoke and swallowed. She hadn’t been given much to drink or eat the entire time she had been held captive. And though she was sure it had only been a couple of days, a few weeks max, it felt like months. The things her captor put her through... she'd thought she was in hell. But soon, as the woman revealed her plan to her, it dawned on her that she wasn't in hell or in any other dimension.
Spike looked up from his hand and gave her a wary look. “I killed you,” he said dazedly. Buffy only squinted at him.
Spike lowered his head again. He couldn't bear looking her in the eyes after what he'd done. “You were...”
“Spike, please,” she said, her words a broken plea. She tugged at her restraints wearily.
Spike glanced up at her and looked into her wide eyes. Unshed tears filled them, and he saw something he hadn't seen since she'd been resurrected: life. “Buffy,” he said, finally realizing this was truly her.
Buffy nodded and then lay back onto the bed. She screwed her eyes shut and jerked her head to the side when the light shone on her eyes.
Spike rushed to her side knowing there was no time to figure out what was happening. He needed to take her somewhere safe.
“God, Buffy, what have they done to you?” Up close, he saw her wounds were worse than they had appeared; there was blood everywhere, the scent so thick he could practically taste it. He scrambled to get the brown leather cuffs off Buffy's wrists, panicked because he could feel the blood lust boiling deep down in his gut. His jaw twitched and his hands shook as he forced the demon inside of him that was screaming for blood down. He couldn't – wouldn't – do that to Buffy again.
Gazing up at the man who deemed himself a monster, Buffy took Spike's hand in hers as soon as he'd gotten one of the restraints off her wrist. With her touch, Spike's blood lust immediately abated. He forced himself to look at her.
Tears streamed down Buffy's pale cheeks as she held on to him with a vice-like grip. The look of gratitude in her hazel eyes made Spike's heart wrench in his chest. He cupped her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb, and leaned in to her. He never took his eyes off hers. “You're all right now, Buffy. I'm here.”
Buffy nodded, smiling as she cried. Spike squeezed her hand gently before freeing her from the rest of the cuffs. He helped her stand up, and when her knees buckled, she grabbed his upper arms for support. Buffy whimpered. She didn't like being helpless and weak. The woman had been injecting her with various drugs every day she was there. Whatever they were, they kept her lethargic and disoriented. It made her reflexes slow and uncertain, and it neutralized her Slayer abilities. It made just moving nearly impossible, she’d stood no chance of trying to fight in this state.
Spike scooped her up and carried her in his arms. He froze when Buffy wound her arms around his neck to pull herself up and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. Until moments ago, he thought he had drained the life from her. And now... He shook his head and reminded himself that he needed to get Buffy out of that place.
He carried her into the tunnel and up the eroding wooden staircase. He took one careful step at a time, fearing that the stairs would cave in. When they were six steps from the top, he sat Buffy down on the stairs.
Buffy hugged herself, rocking slightly back and forth, and stared blankly back down the staircase.
Spike cast a worried glance her way before looking up. He noticed that the lid was closed. “Please let this open,” Spike muttered.
“What?” Buffy's voice grated through the dimly lit-tunnel. “We're trapped, aren't we?” Buffy's breathing hitched. Soon, she was wheezing and whispering over and over, “Get me out of here,” as her rocking became quite violent. “Get me out!”
Spike quickly knelt in front of her. “Buffy, look at me.” She only continued to stare vacantly, mouthing words repeatedly. “I said, look at me,” Spike said, his teeth clenched, as he held her chin and made her look at him. “I'm going to get you out of here, all right? I won't let anything so much as breathe near you,” he said with indignation. His hands shook with the effort of suppressing the rage he felt at the thought of anyone hurting her again.
When Buffy's only response was an empty gaze, Spike inhaled deeply and swept the stray hair from her face, leaving the slightest smear of her blood on her forehead. He immediately averted his eyes from it and stood up.
Reaching up, Spike pushed the lid and moved it open. He glanced down at Buffy. “See? Nothing to worry about, yeah?” He crouched down beside her and said, “Come on.” He lifted her into his arms and brought her out of the sarcophagus.
Spike gazed at her gaunt and pale face as he walked out of the crypt, carrying her in his arms. She was still far from safe.
Neither Dawn nor Willow had fallen asleep, not after the day they had.
Dawn sat vigilant, wondering what in the world happened to the sister she used to have petty fights with. The sister she looked up to. The sister who gave her life for her and for the world. Now, Buffy had become evil, greedy with power. She'd become a monster.
Willow blamed herself for everything that had happened. It was her fault that Buffy was here. It was her fault that Dawn had gotten caught in the middle. If Giles were here... But there was no meaning in pointing fingers now. What was done was done and she couldn’t undo things. Or she could... But no! Dark magic was how they got here in the first place.
Willow sighed.
She took out the papers she'd folded up and placed in her pocket. She opened them up and smoothed them with a hand. Buffy had become greedy. She had wanted to drain the power from every potential, even future ones. Not only would this make Buffy more powerful than ever, it would eliminate the slayer line for good as slayers and potentials alike would cease to be called or chosen. It didn't make sense why Buffy, messed up though she was, would want such a thing. What did it have to do with being torn out of heaven?
A loud thud from the front porch called both of them out of their thoughts. They gave each other knowing glances and both stood up slowly. Dawn grabbed a sword from the weapons chest and when Willow gave her a look, she said, “Just to be safe.”
Dawn raised her sword as she walked forward. “Xander, is that you?” Willow called out. No one answered. “Whoever's out there, you should know we're heavily armed!” Willow added in a fit of panic. Still no response came.
Willow glanced at Dawn who nodded at her. “One, two...” Willow mouthed and on the count of three they ran out of the living room and into the hallway. Willow gasped and Dawn screamed when they saw what it was.
Buffy lay on the floor, eyes wide open, seemingly glaring at the two of them. Her skin was gray and her body was stiff.
Dawn's mouth hung open in horror as she dropped the sword with a clang that echoed in the deathly-silent house. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing. Willow rushed to her and took her into her arms.
Willow stared at Buffy's remains. She couldn't look away. She saw a bite mark on Buffy's neck.
Only one vampire came to mind.
He took a step forward only to take two steps back. Gone completely daft, he did. His mind was playing tricks on him. Must be another one of the affects of the drug Buffy had given him.
Still unable to believe the vision before him, he shook his head. “But I...” He chuckled wryly. “You're not her.” He felt otherwise. Her scent was exactly as he remembered it, exactly what he'd memorized. He cocked his head, staring at her with disbelieving eyes. He gazed down at his hand. Her blood was still there. “This isn't real.”
Buffy screwed her eyes shut and opened them again, forcing her eyes to see clearly. He was still but a haze, but she knew that voice, that smell, that mix of alcohol and tobacco all too well. “Spike?” It was all she could manage to say.
Her throat hurt like a bitch, and she winced as she spoke and swallowed. She hadn’t been given much to drink or eat the entire time she had been held captive. And though she was sure it had only been a couple of days, a few weeks max, it felt like months. The things her captor put her through... she'd thought she was in hell. But soon, as the woman revealed her plan to her, it dawned on her that she wasn't in hell or in any other dimension.
Spike looked up from his hand and gave her a wary look. “I killed you,” he said dazedly. Buffy only squinted at him.
Spike lowered his head again. He couldn't bear looking her in the eyes after what he'd done. “You were...”
“Spike, please,” she said, her words a broken plea. She tugged at her restraints wearily.
Spike glanced up at her and looked into her wide eyes. Unshed tears filled them, and he saw something he hadn't seen since she'd been resurrected: life. “Buffy,” he said, finally realizing this was truly her.
Buffy nodded and then lay back onto the bed. She screwed her eyes shut and jerked her head to the side when the light shone on her eyes.
Spike rushed to her side knowing there was no time to figure out what was happening. He needed to take her somewhere safe.
“God, Buffy, what have they done to you?” Up close, he saw her wounds were worse than they had appeared; there was blood everywhere, the scent so thick he could practically taste it. He scrambled to get the brown leather cuffs off Buffy's wrists, panicked because he could feel the blood lust boiling deep down in his gut. His jaw twitched and his hands shook as he forced the demon inside of him that was screaming for blood down. He couldn't – wouldn't – do that to Buffy again.
Gazing up at the man who deemed himself a monster, Buffy took Spike's hand in hers as soon as he'd gotten one of the restraints off her wrist. With her touch, Spike's blood lust immediately abated. He forced himself to look at her.
Tears streamed down Buffy's pale cheeks as she held on to him with a vice-like grip. The look of gratitude in her hazel eyes made Spike's heart wrench in his chest. He cupped her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb, and leaned in to her. He never took his eyes off hers. “You're all right now, Buffy. I'm here.”
Buffy nodded, smiling as she cried. Spike squeezed her hand gently before freeing her from the rest of the cuffs. He helped her stand up, and when her knees buckled, she grabbed his upper arms for support. Buffy whimpered. She didn't like being helpless and weak. The woman had been injecting her with various drugs every day she was there. Whatever they were, they kept her lethargic and disoriented. It made her reflexes slow and uncertain, and it neutralized her Slayer abilities. It made just moving nearly impossible, she’d stood no chance of trying to fight in this state.
Spike scooped her up and carried her in his arms. He froze when Buffy wound her arms around his neck to pull herself up and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. Until moments ago, he thought he had drained the life from her. And now... He shook his head and reminded himself that he needed to get Buffy out of that place.
He carried her into the tunnel and up the eroding wooden staircase. He took one careful step at a time, fearing that the stairs would cave in. When they were six steps from the top, he sat Buffy down on the stairs.
Buffy hugged herself, rocking slightly back and forth, and stared blankly back down the staircase.
Spike cast a worried glance her way before looking up. He noticed that the lid was closed. “Please let this open,” Spike muttered.
“What?” Buffy's voice grated through the dimly lit-tunnel. “We're trapped, aren't we?” Buffy's breathing hitched. Soon, she was wheezing and whispering over and over, “Get me out of here,” as her rocking became quite violent. “Get me out!”
Spike quickly knelt in front of her. “Buffy, look at me.” She only continued to stare vacantly, mouthing words repeatedly. “I said, look at me,” Spike said, his teeth clenched, as he held her chin and made her look at him. “I'm going to get you out of here, all right? I won't let anything so much as breathe near you,” he said with indignation. His hands shook with the effort of suppressing the rage he felt at the thought of anyone hurting her again.
When Buffy's only response was an empty gaze, Spike inhaled deeply and swept the stray hair from her face, leaving the slightest smear of her blood on her forehead. He immediately averted his eyes from it and stood up.
Reaching up, Spike pushed the lid and moved it open. He glanced down at Buffy. “See? Nothing to worry about, yeah?” He crouched down beside her and said, “Come on.” He lifted her into his arms and brought her out of the sarcophagus.
Spike gazed at her gaunt and pale face as he walked out of the crypt, carrying her in his arms. She was still far from safe.
Neither Dawn nor Willow had fallen asleep, not after the day they had.
Dawn sat vigilant, wondering what in the world happened to the sister she used to have petty fights with. The sister she looked up to. The sister who gave her life for her and for the world. Now, Buffy had become evil, greedy with power. She'd become a monster.
Willow blamed herself for everything that had happened. It was her fault that Buffy was here. It was her fault that Dawn had gotten caught in the middle. If Giles were here... But there was no meaning in pointing fingers now. What was done was done and she couldn’t undo things. Or she could... But no! Dark magic was how they got here in the first place.
Willow sighed.
She took out the papers she'd folded up and placed in her pocket. She opened them up and smoothed them with a hand. Buffy had become greedy. She had wanted to drain the power from every potential, even future ones. Not only would this make Buffy more powerful than ever, it would eliminate the slayer line for good as slayers and potentials alike would cease to be called or chosen. It didn't make sense why Buffy, messed up though she was, would want such a thing. What did it have to do with being torn out of heaven?
A loud thud from the front porch called both of them out of their thoughts. They gave each other knowing glances and both stood up slowly. Dawn grabbed a sword from the weapons chest and when Willow gave her a look, she said, “Just to be safe.”
Dawn raised her sword as she walked forward. “Xander, is that you?” Willow called out. No one answered. “Whoever's out there, you should know we're heavily armed!” Willow added in a fit of panic. Still no response came.
Willow glanced at Dawn who nodded at her. “One, two...” Willow mouthed and on the count of three they ran out of the living room and into the hallway. Willow gasped and Dawn screamed when they saw what it was.
Buffy lay on the floor, eyes wide open, seemingly glaring at the two of them. Her skin was gray and her body was stiff.
Dawn's mouth hung open in horror as she dropped the sword with a clang that echoed in the deathly-silent house. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing. Willow rushed to her and took her into her arms.
Willow stared at Buffy's remains. She couldn't look away. She saw a bite mark on Buffy's neck.
Only one vampire came to mind.
Chapter 16
Spike had carried Buffy out of the cemetery, down and around the streets of Sunnydale, until finally, gratefully, he turned onto Revello Drive. His entire body hurt. His arms were weak and he tottered on tired legs. But he didn't stop, not even for a second. He carried her until they were on the Summers' front porch, far from where the demons and the woman were, hoping that the familiar surroundings would comfort her.
Spike put Buffy down on the steps. She could barely stand up on her legs, so he helped her sit down. Spike watched her as she leaned her head against the steps' railing. The woman who did this to her would be a footnote in history if it were up to him.
“I'm just going to check the inside, yeah? I'll be right there,” Spike said, pointing at the house.
Fear and frailty filled Buffy's eyes as she raised them to him. She gazed at him, blinking slowly once, before nodding dumbly.
Spike rubbed the back of his neck as he strode up the steps, glancing behind him at Buffy. “Hello?” He hesitated only for a brief moment before he stepped into the house and looked around curiously.
Willow and Dawn had just brought Buffy's body up to her room, not knowing what else to do with her, when they heard Spike's voice. Dawn let out a sigh of relief and wiped her eyes as she tried to stop another bout of tears from falling.
Willow glanced at Dawn. “Spike,” she said angrily and hurriedly ran down the stairs with Dawn following her. She rushed to Spike and slapped him across the face. Dawn stopped at the foot of the stairway in surprise, and her face fell to a look of near panic.
Spike looked around the empty hallway, stunned. He looked right through Willow and Dawn as he touched his stinging cheek and said, “The hell?”
An invisible force pushed him against the wall next to the broken mirror above the console table, his feet hovering over the floor.
Willow held her arm up firmly, her brows knit together over her glaring eyes. She'd brought Buffy back only to let her die again.
“What are you doing?” Dawn interjected.
“He killed her! He...” Willow closed her mouth and pressed her lips together firmly as she pushed Spike harder against the wall, wringing her hand as if she were squeezing his neck. Spike groaned and flailed his arms, knocking over the already smashed mirror to the ground.
“Who?” Dawn asked frantically.
“Buffy!”
Buffy lifted her head when she heard her name and, using the railing as support, she hoisted herself up.
Dawn looked at Spike who was grimacing in pain. She was certain he'd never be able to do that to Buffy and if he could, the chip would stop him. “But...”
“Show yourself!” Spike shouted. “Don't be a poofter!” He scanned the empty space before him and lashed out blindly, hoping to hurt whatever was pinning him against the wall by his neck.
Buffy walked up the front porch, her steps faltering. “Someone called my name,” she said, still in a stupor, as she leaned against the doorframe.
Spike turned his head to face Buffy and told her to go back outside. She was too weak to defend herself from whatever demon was in the house.
Confusion clear on her face, Willow’s gaze drifted to Buffy. As her arm slowly dropped to her side, her magical grip on Spike eased. “Unveil,” she whispered, and she and Dawn appeared before Spike's eyes.
“What...” Spike glanced at Willow, then at Dawn.
Dawn gaped at Buffy before she rushed to her and hugged her. Buffy flinched at first, her body stinging and aching from the physical contact. She wrapped an arm around Dawn and closed her eyes, a small smile on her face.
Willow continued to stare at Buffy as Dawn pulled away from her. “You're okay? I mean...” She looked at Spike questioningly.
Spike averted his eyes from Willow's and turned to Buffy. “Come on,” he said and took her by the elbow. He and Dawn led Buffy into the living room as Willow fetched a glass of water from the kitchen.
Buffy looked at the sofa with a critical eye and then looked up at Dawn at Spike. “It's broken.” She said it matter-of-factly. Their house looked rundown and abandoned, and she wondered how long she really had been gone.
“We'll get a new one,” Dawn said as cheerily as she could as she helped Buffy sit down.
Spike walked back to the threshold of the living room and leaned against the wall, studying Buffy's reactions intently. Judging by the emotion in her eyes, she seemed to be the real Buffy. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to find answers about what happened. He needed to find out who that woman was and why she'd do such a thing. But honestly, the why wasn't as important as just hurting her the way she'd hurt Buffy.
Buffy looked around the messy living room. Pieces of wood were on the floor near her feet. She guessed it used to be their coffee table. “Everything's broken.” She looked to her left and saw the television set was still whole.
Dawn cleared her throat while glancing sideways at Spike. “O-or we'll move. Whichever.” Dawn chuckled and gave her a crooked smile.
Buffy stared at Dawn, who fidgeted nervously, before she turned her gaze back down at the sofa. She looked up when Willow handed her the glass of water and she immediately drank, wincing and touching her throat.
“You'll be in your room, in your bed, after we clean it,” Willow said, smiling at her softly. “There are just some things we need to get rid of.” She gave Dawn a meaningful look.
Dawn nodded, understanding completely what Willow meant, and added, “Uh-huh. And we'll get right to it.”
“Where is everyone?” Buffy set the glass on her lap, holding it with both hands.
“Tara, Xander and Anya are in L.A. with Angel.” Willow stammered at Angel's name. Buffy's expression only remained blank. “But we called Xander and he'll be here soon. Okay?”
Buffy nodded and gave Willow a small smile and, bringing the glass to her lips, took a measured sip.
Willow signaled Dawn and Spike to follow her. The three went to the other side of the room, their backs turned to Buffy as they talked.
“I think I brought back two Buffys. There's a Buffy upstairs, too,” Willow said, her voice quiet enough so Buffy couldn't hear her.
“There is?” Spike asked, an eyebrow raised, and placed his hands on his hips.
Willow went on, “We thought she was dead. She had a bite mark– ”
Spike interrupted her, not giving her a chance to finish what she was saying. He felt guilty enough and the fact that it wasn't really Buffy didn't help. “Don't think she's Buffy.”
“That could explain why she was acting differently,” Willow mused out loud, a little bit relieved that the magics she used weren't at fault.
“Might be another bot,” Dawn said.
“No. No... It's unlikely. But she's not entirely human either,” Spike said. It was all becoming clearer now. She certainly wasn't human because if she were, he wouldn't have been able to even hit her. “She has blood, but...” He cast guilty glances at the two girl and Willow looked at him curiously. “She was alive, is all I'm saying.”
Willow tucked her hair behind her ear with a single finger. “Then what was she?”
Spike shook his head. “Not sure, but I'm going to find out.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Dawn asked him.
“I found Buffy in an underground cave after the other one disappeared. I saw a woman there. Bet she's behind everything.”
Willow was still trying to figure out why Spike was so skittish. Maybe she was right after all. “And I bet she's the one who left fake Buffy's body at our doorstep. She didn't think Buffy would escape.”
Spike had half a mind to correct her. He'd saved Buffy. But that seemed irrelevant after what he'd done anyway. He still killed her. Well, a version of her, but they had all thought it was her. What if she had been the real Buffy? Spike shook the troubling thoughts from his mind and glanced at the couch. Buffy wasn't there.
“Buffy?” Spike ran to the hallway while Dawn and Willow followed him, a fearful look on their faces. He breathed in her scent and went up the stairs. Buffy was standing at the doorway of her room.
“Buffy. Pet...” Spike reached for her arm but she stepped forward, closer to the bed where her clone lay. “You're not supposed to be here.”
“I saw her. I saw her morph into me when I was dragged down to that...” Buffy lowered her head and clenched her fists. She was more lucid now; things were a bit clearer. “She drank my blood and...” Her voice broke. She swallowed the bile in her throat. “They said it would help. And then she was told things about my life, about my friends, my allies,” she said and turned halfway toward him.
Spike's lips curled into a grin and he outstretched his hand to her. “Let's get those wounds cleaned up, yeah?”
Buffy took his hand without hesitation. He squeezed it gently before leading her into the bathroom and sat her on the toilet seat. He rifled through the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit, murmuring to himself, “I left it here somewhere.”
“Spike,” Buffy said and had to avoid his gaze when he turned to her, first aid kit in hand. “I...” She closed her open mouth and smiled sheepishly. Thanking Spike wasn't something she wanted to do again and again. But he deserved it, more than Willow did for bringing her back even. “I haven't thanked you.” Her voice was still coarse, but the emotion in it was palpable. “You saved my life.”
Spike bit his lip and shifted his gaze to the floor. He sighed. “That other Buffy. The one in your bed right now,” he said. “I,” he pointed at himself, “killed her.” He anticipated her reaction, her disgust, her hatred... a stake right through his chest.
Her eyes were still on him as he looked up at her through his thick lashes. “You did what you had to do. That makes you brave,” she said.
“No.” Spike shook his head and scoffed. “It makes me a demon,” he said firmly and frowned. He walked toward her and knelt in front of her, setting the first aid kit on the floor beside him. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a pack of cotton balls, Mercurochrome, and bandages.
Spike tensed when Buffy brushed his bruised cheek with her hand. He raised his questioning eyes to her and she quickly yanked her hand back. “Sorry. You're hurt too.”
He smirked and said, “Heal fast remember?” The image of their fight and Buffy twitching beneath him flashed before his eyes and his face fell to a serious expression. “I'll get to 'em later.”
Buffy quirked a brow when she noticed the change in his demeanor. She asked him, “You okay?”
“Fine,” he said. He took her hand; she had the same wounds on her knuckles as the evil Buffy. Her wrists were bruised as well.
“You seem... twitchy.”
“Really. I'm fine. You're the one I'm worried about.”
“The drugs are starting to wear off.” Buffy watched as he wrapped the bandage around her hand and wrist. She opened her mouth, but she didn't know where to start. She tried to speak again. “You don't have to feel guilty, you know. I would have done the same thing given the circumstances.” She sighed and placed a hand over his, squeezing it lightly to assure him everything was all right. Spike looked up at her as she spoke. “She wasn't me, Spike. And if she was human, the chip would have stopped you.”
Spike nodded but that fact still didn't help. To think that he'd be able to kill her if he didn't have the chip frightened him. He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if that truly had been her.
Spike put Buffy down on the steps. She could barely stand up on her legs, so he helped her sit down. Spike watched her as she leaned her head against the steps' railing. The woman who did this to her would be a footnote in history if it were up to him.
“I'm just going to check the inside, yeah? I'll be right there,” Spike said, pointing at the house.
Fear and frailty filled Buffy's eyes as she raised them to him. She gazed at him, blinking slowly once, before nodding dumbly.
Spike rubbed the back of his neck as he strode up the steps, glancing behind him at Buffy. “Hello?” He hesitated only for a brief moment before he stepped into the house and looked around curiously.
Willow and Dawn had just brought Buffy's body up to her room, not knowing what else to do with her, when they heard Spike's voice. Dawn let out a sigh of relief and wiped her eyes as she tried to stop another bout of tears from falling.
Willow glanced at Dawn. “Spike,” she said angrily and hurriedly ran down the stairs with Dawn following her. She rushed to Spike and slapped him across the face. Dawn stopped at the foot of the stairway in surprise, and her face fell to a look of near panic.
Spike looked around the empty hallway, stunned. He looked right through Willow and Dawn as he touched his stinging cheek and said, “The hell?”
An invisible force pushed him against the wall next to the broken mirror above the console table, his feet hovering over the floor.
Willow held her arm up firmly, her brows knit together over her glaring eyes. She'd brought Buffy back only to let her die again.
“What are you doing?” Dawn interjected.
“He killed her! He...” Willow closed her mouth and pressed her lips together firmly as she pushed Spike harder against the wall, wringing her hand as if she were squeezing his neck. Spike groaned and flailed his arms, knocking over the already smashed mirror to the ground.
“Who?” Dawn asked frantically.
“Buffy!”
Buffy lifted her head when she heard her name and, using the railing as support, she hoisted herself up.
Dawn looked at Spike who was grimacing in pain. She was certain he'd never be able to do that to Buffy and if he could, the chip would stop him. “But...”
“Show yourself!” Spike shouted. “Don't be a poofter!” He scanned the empty space before him and lashed out blindly, hoping to hurt whatever was pinning him against the wall by his neck.
Buffy walked up the front porch, her steps faltering. “Someone called my name,” she said, still in a stupor, as she leaned against the doorframe.
Spike turned his head to face Buffy and told her to go back outside. She was too weak to defend herself from whatever demon was in the house.
Confusion clear on her face, Willow’s gaze drifted to Buffy. As her arm slowly dropped to her side, her magical grip on Spike eased. “Unveil,” she whispered, and she and Dawn appeared before Spike's eyes.
“What...” Spike glanced at Willow, then at Dawn.
Dawn gaped at Buffy before she rushed to her and hugged her. Buffy flinched at first, her body stinging and aching from the physical contact. She wrapped an arm around Dawn and closed her eyes, a small smile on her face.
Willow continued to stare at Buffy as Dawn pulled away from her. “You're okay? I mean...” She looked at Spike questioningly.
Spike averted his eyes from Willow's and turned to Buffy. “Come on,” he said and took her by the elbow. He and Dawn led Buffy into the living room as Willow fetched a glass of water from the kitchen.
Buffy looked at the sofa with a critical eye and then looked up at Dawn at Spike. “It's broken.” She said it matter-of-factly. Their house looked rundown and abandoned, and she wondered how long she really had been gone.
“We'll get a new one,” Dawn said as cheerily as she could as she helped Buffy sit down.
Spike walked back to the threshold of the living room and leaned against the wall, studying Buffy's reactions intently. Judging by the emotion in her eyes, she seemed to be the real Buffy. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to find answers about what happened. He needed to find out who that woman was and why she'd do such a thing. But honestly, the why wasn't as important as just hurting her the way she'd hurt Buffy.
Buffy looked around the messy living room. Pieces of wood were on the floor near her feet. She guessed it used to be their coffee table. “Everything's broken.” She looked to her left and saw the television set was still whole.
Dawn cleared her throat while glancing sideways at Spike. “O-or we'll move. Whichever.” Dawn chuckled and gave her a crooked smile.
Buffy stared at Dawn, who fidgeted nervously, before she turned her gaze back down at the sofa. She looked up when Willow handed her the glass of water and she immediately drank, wincing and touching her throat.
“You'll be in your room, in your bed, after we clean it,” Willow said, smiling at her softly. “There are just some things we need to get rid of.” She gave Dawn a meaningful look.
Dawn nodded, understanding completely what Willow meant, and added, “Uh-huh. And we'll get right to it.”
“Where is everyone?” Buffy set the glass on her lap, holding it with both hands.
“Tara, Xander and Anya are in L.A. with Angel.” Willow stammered at Angel's name. Buffy's expression only remained blank. “But we called Xander and he'll be here soon. Okay?”
Buffy nodded and gave Willow a small smile and, bringing the glass to her lips, took a measured sip.
Willow signaled Dawn and Spike to follow her. The three went to the other side of the room, their backs turned to Buffy as they talked.
“I think I brought back two Buffys. There's a Buffy upstairs, too,” Willow said, her voice quiet enough so Buffy couldn't hear her.
“There is?” Spike asked, an eyebrow raised, and placed his hands on his hips.
Willow went on, “We thought she was dead. She had a bite mark– ”
Spike interrupted her, not giving her a chance to finish what she was saying. He felt guilty enough and the fact that it wasn't really Buffy didn't help. “Don't think she's Buffy.”
“That could explain why she was acting differently,” Willow mused out loud, a little bit relieved that the magics she used weren't at fault.
“Might be another bot,” Dawn said.
“No. No... It's unlikely. But she's not entirely human either,” Spike said. It was all becoming clearer now. She certainly wasn't human because if she were, he wouldn't have been able to even hit her. “She has blood, but...” He cast guilty glances at the two girl and Willow looked at him curiously. “She was alive, is all I'm saying.”
Willow tucked her hair behind her ear with a single finger. “Then what was she?”
Spike shook his head. “Not sure, but I'm going to find out.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Dawn asked him.
“I found Buffy in an underground cave after the other one disappeared. I saw a woman there. Bet she's behind everything.”
Willow was still trying to figure out why Spike was so skittish. Maybe she was right after all. “And I bet she's the one who left fake Buffy's body at our doorstep. She didn't think Buffy would escape.”
Spike had half a mind to correct her. He'd saved Buffy. But that seemed irrelevant after what he'd done anyway. He still killed her. Well, a version of her, but they had all thought it was her. What if she had been the real Buffy? Spike shook the troubling thoughts from his mind and glanced at the couch. Buffy wasn't there.
“Buffy?” Spike ran to the hallway while Dawn and Willow followed him, a fearful look on their faces. He breathed in her scent and went up the stairs. Buffy was standing at the doorway of her room.
“Buffy. Pet...” Spike reached for her arm but she stepped forward, closer to the bed where her clone lay. “You're not supposed to be here.”
“I saw her. I saw her morph into me when I was dragged down to that...” Buffy lowered her head and clenched her fists. She was more lucid now; things were a bit clearer. “She drank my blood and...” Her voice broke. She swallowed the bile in her throat. “They said it would help. And then she was told things about my life, about my friends, my allies,” she said and turned halfway toward him.
Spike's lips curled into a grin and he outstretched his hand to her. “Let's get those wounds cleaned up, yeah?”
Buffy took his hand without hesitation. He squeezed it gently before leading her into the bathroom and sat her on the toilet seat. He rifled through the medicine cabinet for the first aid kit, murmuring to himself, “I left it here somewhere.”
“Spike,” Buffy said and had to avoid his gaze when he turned to her, first aid kit in hand. “I...” She closed her open mouth and smiled sheepishly. Thanking Spike wasn't something she wanted to do again and again. But he deserved it, more than Willow did for bringing her back even. “I haven't thanked you.” Her voice was still coarse, but the emotion in it was palpable. “You saved my life.”
Spike bit his lip and shifted his gaze to the floor. He sighed. “That other Buffy. The one in your bed right now,” he said. “I,” he pointed at himself, “killed her.” He anticipated her reaction, her disgust, her hatred... a stake right through his chest.
Her eyes were still on him as he looked up at her through his thick lashes. “You did what you had to do. That makes you brave,” she said.
“No.” Spike shook his head and scoffed. “It makes me a demon,” he said firmly and frowned. He walked toward her and knelt in front of her, setting the first aid kit on the floor beside him. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a pack of cotton balls, Mercurochrome, and bandages.
Spike tensed when Buffy brushed his bruised cheek with her hand. He raised his questioning eyes to her and she quickly yanked her hand back. “Sorry. You're hurt too.”
He smirked and said, “Heal fast remember?” The image of their fight and Buffy twitching beneath him flashed before his eyes and his face fell to a serious expression. “I'll get to 'em later.”
Buffy quirked a brow when she noticed the change in his demeanor. She asked him, “You okay?”
“Fine,” he said. He took her hand; she had the same wounds on her knuckles as the evil Buffy. Her wrists were bruised as well.
“You seem... twitchy.”
“Really. I'm fine. You're the one I'm worried about.”
“The drugs are starting to wear off.” Buffy watched as he wrapped the bandage around her hand and wrist. She opened her mouth, but she didn't know where to start. She tried to speak again. “You don't have to feel guilty, you know. I would have done the same thing given the circumstances.” She sighed and placed a hand over his, squeezing it lightly to assure him everything was all right. Spike looked up at her as she spoke. “She wasn't me, Spike. And if she was human, the chip would have stopped you.”
Spike nodded but that fact still didn't help. To think that he'd be able to kill her if he didn't have the chip frightened him. He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if that truly had been her.
Chapter 17
The drug the impostor had given Spike had finally worn off. He felt a bit better now that he didn't feel the craving for blood any longer, and it was a relief knowing that he couldn't do any more damage than he'd already done.
After he'd cleaned and bandaged Buffy's wounds on her arms, hands and face, he heaved himself up. He knew there were more cuts on her body; he'd seen them. But he thought it would be inappropriate if he tended to them. He and Buffy were only allies and he didn't want to overstep any boundaries. He also didn't want to do something as sick and twisted as lusting over an injured slayer. “All done.”
“Uhm,” Buffy began and started to lift her top. Spike watched, his mouth slightly parted, as she bared her toned stomach. She felt her cheeks burn under Spike's gaze as the blood rushed to her face. “There's more.” She chuckled humorlessly. “They hurt. A lot.” She pouted while she looked at the bruises and gashes on her torso.
“Right,” Spike choked out, raising his eyes back up to her face. “I knew that. I just thought...” An abashed smile of delight crept on his face when he realized she still trusted him, maybe even more than she did before. “Never mind,” he said quietly and knelt in front of her again.
He poured a few drops of the disinfectant on a cotton ball and began to clean her wounds. After he finished, he tugged her shirt down carefully and stood up. “I'll check if your room's ready.”
When Spike saw that the body was no longer on Buffy's bed, he went back to the bathroom and helped her to her room. “We'll be right downstairs,” he told her before closing her door behind him.
Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, scanning her room. On top of her dresser were a tube of glossy pink lip gloss on top of a magazine, a comb on one end and few old books stacked haphazardly on the other end. A fringed leather purse hanging on the chair was not one of hers and the knickknacks on the other end of the desk were new too. She figured Willow moved in after she died, which was a good thing; Dawn shouldn't have been alone while she was gone.
She stood up and walked to her desk. A picture of them, the three Summers women, looking so happy together rested at the center of the table. She picked the picture frame up and frowned. She knew the happiness she felt then didn't compare to how she felt when she had been in heaven. She set the photograph down, walked back to her bed and sat back down. Looking around her room, she sighed and quietly said to herself, “Home sweet home.”
As Spike descended the stairs, he could already hear Xander saying, “She looks exactly like her. How are we supposed to know which is the real one?”
Before Willow or Dawn could answer Xander, Spike was already standing at the living room threshold. “You're here,” he said flatly.
“Nice seeing you, too, Spike,” Xander said, looking over his shoulder to glance at the vampire. He was sitting on a chair across from Willow, who was on the couch. Willow had told him everything that happened. “Where's Buffy?” He stood up, obviously antsy about seeing his friend again for the first time. He also wanted to see what they had told him for himself.
“She's resting. It would be best if we didn't bother her. She's been through a lot.” Spike's gaze shifted to the fake Buffy's body lying on the floor and the horror-stricken face that looked up at him before he'd sunk his fangs into her throat flashed before his eyes. He shot his head up when Xander spoke.
“I still can't believe she's really here and that there's two of them,” Xander said as he stared at the body on the floor. He glanced up at Willow then at Spike. “She is really here, right? I'm not just dreaming?”
All of them looked at Xander sympathetically and Spike nodded. They all knew what Xander must be going through, especially finding out about everything all at once.
“Has she talked about what happened?” Willow asked, her hands clasped between her thighs, worry painted on her face.
“Just that she was tortured, drugged,” Spike muttered, placing his hands on his waist. He didn't want to talk about what she went through. All he wanted to do was find the bitch that did this to her and get revenge.
Dawn had been standing by the impostor's body, wringing her hands. For some reason, she couldn't tear her eyes away from it no matter how much it scared her. She was still trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened when the body before her changed into a demon. She screamed and jumped back, pointing at the now maroon-colored creature with pointed ears and long fingernails.
Willow stared at the demon, stunned and relieved at the same time. She couldn’t be blamed for having doubts that the dead body had been the real Buffy.
Spike looked at Xander's horrified face and said, “Now we know who the real Buffy is.”
“I-is it alive?” Dawn asked. She was glad that she was finally looking at what the thing really was.
With her nose scrunched up in disgust, Willow nudged the leg of demon with her foot and answered, “I don't think so.”
Xander's mouth hung open, still staring at the demon. “What kind of demon is it?”
“It must be some kind of shape shifter,” Willow said.
Spike dropped his hands to his sides. “Right. While you find out what this thing is, I'm gonna go find the bitch and get some answers.”
“I'm coming with you,” Xander said and followed Spike into the hallway.
This broke Spike's stride, and he moved to face Xander, raising a hand to stop him. “No, you're not. You're only going to hold me back.”
Xander let out a snort. “Hold you back while you throw migraines at her? Willow said she's human. You can't hurt her.”
Spike scoffed, shaking his head and frowning. Though he knew the whelp was right, he didn't want to admit it.
“Xander's right, Spike,” Willow said. When she caught Spike casting a worried glance up the stairs, she added, “We'll be fine.”
Spike groaned and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Fine,” he said as he went out.
Xander and Spike walked down Revello Drive in silence for the most part. They never got along, probably never would, and when they did talk, it was really more arguing and teasing. Neither of them felt like arguing now.
Spike chose to break the silence when they drew near the cemetery. “Willow told you everything?”
Xander glanced at Spike out of the corner of his eye as they continued to walk. “Yeah. I don't know why she didn't tell me sooner.”
Spike wanted to tell him that he thought she was protecting herself, but they didn't need that right now. Instead he told him, “She has her reasons.”
Xander sighed and shrugged. “It was probably for the best, you know? I'm kind of glad I didn't get to see Buffy all evil,” he said honestly, facing Spike sideways. “Is that wrong?”
Spike shook his head. “No.” He paused. “I wish I hadn’t either.”
A beat. “But you didn't give up on her,” Xander stated factually.
“Don't think I ever could.”
“I know,” Xander said as he slapped him on the back.
Spike flinched when Xander hit one of his bruises. He glanced at Xander's hand on his shoulder and shot him a get-your-hand-off-me look. Xander cleared his throat and Spike said, “Let's never have this kind of talk again.”
Xander jerked his hand back as if he'd been stung and said with an uneasy chuckle, “You betcha.”
They both lapsed into silence again while they went farther into the cemetery as furtively as they could, knowing there could still be demons looking for them. They looked around alertly, seeing nothing but trees, tombstones and crypts. Sensing no immediate danger, they eased up.
“There,” Spike said, pointing at the crypt he'd been at earlier. They jogged over to it. Unlike when he'd first entered, the door was unlocked. The dry hinges of the door creaked as Spike pushed it open.
The candles lining the walls were still there. They approached the sarcophagus and Spike opened it. He quirked a brow when he saw nothing but marble and bones underneath.
“What is it?” Xander asked him.
Spike jumped into the coffin, said “It's empty,” and reached around the bottom for a trap door or something that would open to the staircase leading to the underground cave. There wasn't one. It was completely barren save for a skeleton.
“Are you sure it was here?”
Spike poked his head out and glowered at Xander.
Xander raised his hands in surrender and peeked at what was inside the marble coffin. “Well, there's nothing there any more except the bones of some dead guy,” he said.
Spike stood up, got out of the sarcophagus and scratched his chin with his thumb. “She must have covered her tracks when she found Buffy was gone.”
“Let's get out of here. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.” Xander shuddered.
They had barely stepped out of the crypt when they saw three demons standing outside, mischievous leers on their faces.
“Don't these pillocks ever piss off?” Spike closed his eyes and groaned.
“You take the two on the right,” Xander instructed and pointed at them. He and Spike charged at the demons as he said to himself, “I'll get pummeled by the other one.”
Spike defeated the two demons after much struggling. He was still a bit sore and tired, but he was able to kill them.
The third demon had cornered Xander who was now on his ass by the front steps of the crypt. Spike came after the demon, kicking it in the back and it fell face first on the ground. Spike snapped its neck, held out his hand out to Xander and pulled him to his feet.
“Thanks, man,” Xander said, brushing his pants off as much as he could.
Spike stood over the demons' bodies and glared at them. “I hope that's the last of 'em.”
In his gut, Xander felt they weren't. “We should get back.”
After he'd cleaned and bandaged Buffy's wounds on her arms, hands and face, he heaved himself up. He knew there were more cuts on her body; he'd seen them. But he thought it would be inappropriate if he tended to them. He and Buffy were only allies and he didn't want to overstep any boundaries. He also didn't want to do something as sick and twisted as lusting over an injured slayer. “All done.”
“Uhm,” Buffy began and started to lift her top. Spike watched, his mouth slightly parted, as she bared her toned stomach. She felt her cheeks burn under Spike's gaze as the blood rushed to her face. “There's more.” She chuckled humorlessly. “They hurt. A lot.” She pouted while she looked at the bruises and gashes on her torso.
“Right,” Spike choked out, raising his eyes back up to her face. “I knew that. I just thought...” An abashed smile of delight crept on his face when he realized she still trusted him, maybe even more than she did before. “Never mind,” he said quietly and knelt in front of her again.
He poured a few drops of the disinfectant on a cotton ball and began to clean her wounds. After he finished, he tugged her shirt down carefully and stood up. “I'll check if your room's ready.”
When Spike saw that the body was no longer on Buffy's bed, he went back to the bathroom and helped her to her room. “We'll be right downstairs,” he told her before closing her door behind him.
Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, scanning her room. On top of her dresser were a tube of glossy pink lip gloss on top of a magazine, a comb on one end and few old books stacked haphazardly on the other end. A fringed leather purse hanging on the chair was not one of hers and the knickknacks on the other end of the desk were new too. She figured Willow moved in after she died, which was a good thing; Dawn shouldn't have been alone while she was gone.
She stood up and walked to her desk. A picture of them, the three Summers women, looking so happy together rested at the center of the table. She picked the picture frame up and frowned. She knew the happiness she felt then didn't compare to how she felt when she had been in heaven. She set the photograph down, walked back to her bed and sat back down. Looking around her room, she sighed and quietly said to herself, “Home sweet home.”
As Spike descended the stairs, he could already hear Xander saying, “She looks exactly like her. How are we supposed to know which is the real one?”
Before Willow or Dawn could answer Xander, Spike was already standing at the living room threshold. “You're here,” he said flatly.
“Nice seeing you, too, Spike,” Xander said, looking over his shoulder to glance at the vampire. He was sitting on a chair across from Willow, who was on the couch. Willow had told him everything that happened. “Where's Buffy?” He stood up, obviously antsy about seeing his friend again for the first time. He also wanted to see what they had told him for himself.
“She's resting. It would be best if we didn't bother her. She's been through a lot.” Spike's gaze shifted to the fake Buffy's body lying on the floor and the horror-stricken face that looked up at him before he'd sunk his fangs into her throat flashed before his eyes. He shot his head up when Xander spoke.
“I still can't believe she's really here and that there's two of them,” Xander said as he stared at the body on the floor. He glanced up at Willow then at Spike. “She is really here, right? I'm not just dreaming?”
All of them looked at Xander sympathetically and Spike nodded. They all knew what Xander must be going through, especially finding out about everything all at once.
“Has she talked about what happened?” Willow asked, her hands clasped between her thighs, worry painted on her face.
“Just that she was tortured, drugged,” Spike muttered, placing his hands on his waist. He didn't want to talk about what she went through. All he wanted to do was find the bitch that did this to her and get revenge.
Dawn had been standing by the impostor's body, wringing her hands. For some reason, she couldn't tear her eyes away from it no matter how much it scared her. She was still trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened when the body before her changed into a demon. She screamed and jumped back, pointing at the now maroon-colored creature with pointed ears and long fingernails.
Willow stared at the demon, stunned and relieved at the same time. She couldn’t be blamed for having doubts that the dead body had been the real Buffy.
Spike looked at Xander's horrified face and said, “Now we know who the real Buffy is.”
“I-is it alive?” Dawn asked. She was glad that she was finally looking at what the thing really was.
With her nose scrunched up in disgust, Willow nudged the leg of demon with her foot and answered, “I don't think so.”
Xander's mouth hung open, still staring at the demon. “What kind of demon is it?”
“It must be some kind of shape shifter,” Willow said.
Spike dropped his hands to his sides. “Right. While you find out what this thing is, I'm gonna go find the bitch and get some answers.”
“I'm coming with you,” Xander said and followed Spike into the hallway.
This broke Spike's stride, and he moved to face Xander, raising a hand to stop him. “No, you're not. You're only going to hold me back.”
Xander let out a snort. “Hold you back while you throw migraines at her? Willow said she's human. You can't hurt her.”
Spike scoffed, shaking his head and frowning. Though he knew the whelp was right, he didn't want to admit it.
“Xander's right, Spike,” Willow said. When she caught Spike casting a worried glance up the stairs, she added, “We'll be fine.”
Spike groaned and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Fine,” he said as he went out.
Xander and Spike walked down Revello Drive in silence for the most part. They never got along, probably never would, and when they did talk, it was really more arguing and teasing. Neither of them felt like arguing now.
Spike chose to break the silence when they drew near the cemetery. “Willow told you everything?”
Xander glanced at Spike out of the corner of his eye as they continued to walk. “Yeah. I don't know why she didn't tell me sooner.”
Spike wanted to tell him that he thought she was protecting herself, but they didn't need that right now. Instead he told him, “She has her reasons.”
Xander sighed and shrugged. “It was probably for the best, you know? I'm kind of glad I didn't get to see Buffy all evil,” he said honestly, facing Spike sideways. “Is that wrong?”
Spike shook his head. “No.” He paused. “I wish I hadn’t either.”
A beat. “But you didn't give up on her,” Xander stated factually.
“Don't think I ever could.”
“I know,” Xander said as he slapped him on the back.
Spike flinched when Xander hit one of his bruises. He glanced at Xander's hand on his shoulder and shot him a get-your-hand-off-me look. Xander cleared his throat and Spike said, “Let's never have this kind of talk again.”
Xander jerked his hand back as if he'd been stung and said with an uneasy chuckle, “You betcha.”
They both lapsed into silence again while they went farther into the cemetery as furtively as they could, knowing there could still be demons looking for them. They looked around alertly, seeing nothing but trees, tombstones and crypts. Sensing no immediate danger, they eased up.
“There,” Spike said, pointing at the crypt he'd been at earlier. They jogged over to it. Unlike when he'd first entered, the door was unlocked. The dry hinges of the door creaked as Spike pushed it open.
The candles lining the walls were still there. They approached the sarcophagus and Spike opened it. He quirked a brow when he saw nothing but marble and bones underneath.
“What is it?” Xander asked him.
Spike jumped into the coffin, said “It's empty,” and reached around the bottom for a trap door or something that would open to the staircase leading to the underground cave. There wasn't one. It was completely barren save for a skeleton.
“Are you sure it was here?”
Spike poked his head out and glowered at Xander.
Xander raised his hands in surrender and peeked at what was inside the marble coffin. “Well, there's nothing there any more except the bones of some dead guy,” he said.
Spike stood up, got out of the sarcophagus and scratched his chin with his thumb. “She must have covered her tracks when she found Buffy was gone.”
“Let's get out of here. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies.” Xander shuddered.
They had barely stepped out of the crypt when they saw three demons standing outside, mischievous leers on their faces.
“Don't these pillocks ever piss off?” Spike closed his eyes and groaned.
“You take the two on the right,” Xander instructed and pointed at them. He and Spike charged at the demons as he said to himself, “I'll get pummeled by the other one.”
Spike defeated the two demons after much struggling. He was still a bit sore and tired, but he was able to kill them.
The third demon had cornered Xander who was now on his ass by the front steps of the crypt. Spike came after the demon, kicking it in the back and it fell face first on the ground. Spike snapped its neck, held out his hand out to Xander and pulled him to his feet.
“Thanks, man,” Xander said, brushing his pants off as much as he could.
Spike stood over the demons' bodies and glared at them. “I hope that's the last of 'em.”
In his gut, Xander felt they weren't. “We should get back.”
Chapter 18
Without much goading from Willow, Dawn headed to the master bedroom to get some rest immediately after the two men left. Willow, on the other hand, decided to stay awake and wait for the two, until they got back safely. It had been a very long couple of days and she was extremely tired but she didn't feel sleep coming to her soon.
Willow rubbed at her temples, sat on what was left of the sofa and watched some late night television instead.
Spike and Xander rushed back to the Summers' home, worried that demons had attacked the girls while they were gone. With Buffy still getting back on her feet, Willow was the only one powerful enough to fend them off. If the three were outnumbered, Willow would surely need the help.
They barged into the house, frantically shouting the girls' names, looking around and seeing no sign of a struggle.
Alarmed, Willow jumped out of her seat and ran to the hallway. “What? What?”
Xander and Spike shot each other a look and sighed in unison when they saw Willow, relieved that nothing had happened to them. Shaking his head, Spike sat on the stairs, watching Xander catch his breath.
“You're okay,” Xander said. It was half a question, half a statement. He panted, a hand on his chest.
Willow quirked a brow questioningly. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“We just thought...” Xander started to explain and turned partially to glance at Spike. Spike gave him a look, protesting the we, and he went on, “Well, I thought...” Willow raised her eyebrows and waited for what he was going to say. “Never mind.”
Willow ignored his rambling, curious as to what they'd found. “So?” She just wanted to resolve things, put everything that had happened behind them and move on. Seeing that the woman wasn't with them, however, was not a good sign.
Xander shrugged, pacing slightly. “So nothing. The place was empty.”
Willow's eyebrows creased at the top of her nose in worry. “Empty? That can't be. Spike said --”
“It was there, all right? The bitch must've left,” Spike said.
Willow wrung her hands. “Hopefully, all this is over.”
Xander nodded, his hands on his waist. “We should get back to L.A. before we find out otherwise,” he said. “But first, I need to get some sleep.”
Xander waved a hand and headed up the stairs as Willow spoke. “You can sleep in Dawn's room. She's in the master bedroom.”
Remembering Spike still slept, or at least he needed to get some rest, Willow said as an afterthought, “Spike, you can sleep in--”
“I'll take the couch,” Spike said before she could finish. “Someone needs to guard the house anyway.”
Willow smiled awkwardly at him and nodded. “Okay.” She walked up the stairs as Spike shrugged off his coat and hung it over the stair railing.
Once on the second floor, Xander stopped in front of Buffy's bedroom door. He raised his hand to grab the doorknob but thought better of it and let his arm drop. As eager as he was to see her, he wasn't quite ready to face her yet. He was still coming to terms with what he'd been told, mostly the part where they'd pulled her out of heaven. Maybe a good night's sleep would help alleviate the guilt and confusion.
Sighing, Xander made his way to Dawn's bedroom.
Spike walked into the living room, wincing as he tilted his head from side to side. His body still ached, but that didn't matter. She was back. She was really back.
He sat back on the couch with a small smile on his face.
Silence pervaded the whole house. Everyone was asleep. Spike listened to their heartbeats, all of them calm and steady except for one.
Buffy was still awake.
He made his way upstairs and stood outside her door. It creaked faintly as he slowly pushed it open. Buffy was sitting on the edge of her bed, in the middle of the darkness. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. She'd been able to change into more comfortable, less bloodied clothes and had brushed her hair. Even in her frailty she was absolutely beautiful, her spirit indomitable.
Spike released the breath he didn't know he was holding. “Hey,” he said cautiously, so as not to startle her.
She slowly lifted her eyes to him. “Hey.”
“Couldn't sleep?” He took one hesitant step into the room and when Buffy didn't protest, he entered.
She smiled crookedly at him as he closed the door behind him. “Kind of had enough of lying down.”
He forced a chuckle.
Silence. Then, “Did you find her?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
He paused, debating whether to answer her straightly or to beat around the bush. “No,” he said, deciding to be honest. “We didn't.”
“Oh.” Buffy's eyes fell to her hands on her lap. “She's still out there then.” Her tone was firm and vengeful, yet unmistakably laced with fear.
“We'll find her,” Spike said vindictively. “We'll--”
“It's okay, Spike. She caught me at a really bad time.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “I'd just crawled out of my grave for God's sake.” She snorted disdainfully, clenching her hands into fists. She was determined to get her revenge. “Next time...”
“There won't be a next time,” Spike said with an air of finality. “I'm not letting her near you again.”
Buffy shook her head and let out a soft chortle, knowing he wouldn’t even be able to hurt her. But the resoluteness in Spike's eyes warmed her heart, and she could feel just how much he wanted to protect her.
“You have to leave this town. You could stay with Angel.” His eyes flicked to the floor. “Heard the ponce owns a hotel now. You've got plenty of rooms to choose from there.”
“I guess,” she said distractedly, not really paying attention to the idea. She didn't know how she'd handle a place, albeit a large one, full of people that cared about her. She could already imagine how smothered she'd feel.
All she wanted was to be alone with someone she could trust and would feel safe with.
Willow, Dawn and Xander had not pestered her or asked every second or two if she was okay, and for that, she was thankful. She just didn't know how long she’d be able to avoid their questions once they started.
And if they hadn’t found the woman who did this to her yet, she was going to find her and make her suffer.
“You should get some rest,” Spike said, breaking her train of thought, and turned from her, his hand already on the doorknob.
“Can you stay with me?” Spike whirled around, his eyes locking with hers. Buffy dragged her eyes away from his; the emotions were too overwhelming. “Just until I fall asleep,” she stammered, eyes downcast.
“Sure,” he said with a nod.
Buffy lay down on the bed and curled on her side. She tucked her bandaged hands beneath her chin like a child, closing her eyes.
She felt safe with Spike around.
Spike sat down on the floor, his back against the door and eyes closed as he concentrated on her breathing and heartbeat. Soon, her breathing became slow and regular. The sounds placated him and moments later, sleep took him.
Not long after, Buffy's voice woke him up. He opened his eyes, glancing immediately at Buffy. She was still asleep, stirring, tossing, turning, and talking.
Spike stood up and drew nearer. Her eyes were screwed shut and her arms were raised, hands gripping the pillow on either side of her head. She was dreaming.
Spike walked to the side of her bed. “Buffy,” said he, slightly shaking her. “Buffy, wake up.”
A hand seized his throat. Buffy had sat up and was now holding Spike above the ground, her eyes still closed. She was still asleep. Spike's eyes grew wide as Buffy easily held him there. “Buffy!” he screamed, scrambling to get free of her powerful hand wrapped around his throat. “Buffy!”
Buffy finally roused, and startled, she released Spike. “Oh, God,” she said.
“I see you're getting your slayer strength back,” Spike said in a raspy voice, rubbing at his neck and wincing.
Buffy frowned and looked down in embarrassment. “I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”
Spike sighed and hesitantly sat on the bed, facing her. “It's all right. You were having a nightmare.”
“I was,” she spoke softly. The images of the inside of the coffin, the dirt making its way in as she dug herself out, feeling trapped, helpless, gasping for air haunted her dreams. She shook the thoughts away.
“Want to talk about it?”
She looked up at him, grimacing. “Not really.”
She needed time. “Okay,” Spike answered and smiled.
Relieved that she could count on one person not to push her, she smiled back sincerely.
Willow rubbed at her temples, sat on what was left of the sofa and watched some late night television instead.
Spike and Xander rushed back to the Summers' home, worried that demons had attacked the girls while they were gone. With Buffy still getting back on her feet, Willow was the only one powerful enough to fend them off. If the three were outnumbered, Willow would surely need the help.
They barged into the house, frantically shouting the girls' names, looking around and seeing no sign of a struggle.
Alarmed, Willow jumped out of her seat and ran to the hallway. “What? What?”
Xander and Spike shot each other a look and sighed in unison when they saw Willow, relieved that nothing had happened to them. Shaking his head, Spike sat on the stairs, watching Xander catch his breath.
“You're okay,” Xander said. It was half a question, half a statement. He panted, a hand on his chest.
Willow quirked a brow questioningly. “Why wouldn't I be?”
“We just thought...” Xander started to explain and turned partially to glance at Spike. Spike gave him a look, protesting the we, and he went on, “Well, I thought...” Willow raised her eyebrows and waited for what he was going to say. “Never mind.”
Willow ignored his rambling, curious as to what they'd found. “So?” She just wanted to resolve things, put everything that had happened behind them and move on. Seeing that the woman wasn't with them, however, was not a good sign.
Xander shrugged, pacing slightly. “So nothing. The place was empty.”
Willow's eyebrows creased at the top of her nose in worry. “Empty? That can't be. Spike said --”
“It was there, all right? The bitch must've left,” Spike said.
Willow wrung her hands. “Hopefully, all this is over.”
Xander nodded, his hands on his waist. “We should get back to L.A. before we find out otherwise,” he said. “But first, I need to get some sleep.”
Xander waved a hand and headed up the stairs as Willow spoke. “You can sleep in Dawn's room. She's in the master bedroom.”
Remembering Spike still slept, or at least he needed to get some rest, Willow said as an afterthought, “Spike, you can sleep in--”
“I'll take the couch,” Spike said before she could finish. “Someone needs to guard the house anyway.”
Willow smiled awkwardly at him and nodded. “Okay.” She walked up the stairs as Spike shrugged off his coat and hung it over the stair railing.
Once on the second floor, Xander stopped in front of Buffy's bedroom door. He raised his hand to grab the doorknob but thought better of it and let his arm drop. As eager as he was to see her, he wasn't quite ready to face her yet. He was still coming to terms with what he'd been told, mostly the part where they'd pulled her out of heaven. Maybe a good night's sleep would help alleviate the guilt and confusion.
Sighing, Xander made his way to Dawn's bedroom.
Spike walked into the living room, wincing as he tilted his head from side to side. His body still ached, but that didn't matter. She was back. She was really back.
He sat back on the couch with a small smile on his face.
Silence pervaded the whole house. Everyone was asleep. Spike listened to their heartbeats, all of them calm and steady except for one.
Buffy was still awake.
He made his way upstairs and stood outside her door. It creaked faintly as he slowly pushed it open. Buffy was sitting on the edge of her bed, in the middle of the darkness. Her eyes were fixated on the floor. She'd been able to change into more comfortable, less bloodied clothes and had brushed her hair. Even in her frailty she was absolutely beautiful, her spirit indomitable.
Spike released the breath he didn't know he was holding. “Hey,” he said cautiously, so as not to startle her.
She slowly lifted her eyes to him. “Hey.”
“Couldn't sleep?” He took one hesitant step into the room and when Buffy didn't protest, he entered.
She smiled crookedly at him as he closed the door behind him. “Kind of had enough of lying down.”
He forced a chuckle.
Silence. Then, “Did you find her?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
He paused, debating whether to answer her straightly or to beat around the bush. “No,” he said, deciding to be honest. “We didn't.”
“Oh.” Buffy's eyes fell to her hands on her lap. “She's still out there then.” Her tone was firm and vengeful, yet unmistakably laced with fear.
“We'll find her,” Spike said vindictively. “We'll--”
“It's okay, Spike. She caught me at a really bad time.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “I'd just crawled out of my grave for God's sake.” She snorted disdainfully, clenching her hands into fists. She was determined to get her revenge. “Next time...”
“There won't be a next time,” Spike said with an air of finality. “I'm not letting her near you again.”
Buffy shook her head and let out a soft chortle, knowing he wouldn’t even be able to hurt her. But the resoluteness in Spike's eyes warmed her heart, and she could feel just how much he wanted to protect her.
“You have to leave this town. You could stay with Angel.” His eyes flicked to the floor. “Heard the ponce owns a hotel now. You've got plenty of rooms to choose from there.”
“I guess,” she said distractedly, not really paying attention to the idea. She didn't know how she'd handle a place, albeit a large one, full of people that cared about her. She could already imagine how smothered she'd feel.
All she wanted was to be alone with someone she could trust and would feel safe with.
Willow, Dawn and Xander had not pestered her or asked every second or two if she was okay, and for that, she was thankful. She just didn't know how long she’d be able to avoid their questions once they started.
And if they hadn’t found the woman who did this to her yet, she was going to find her and make her suffer.
“You should get some rest,” Spike said, breaking her train of thought, and turned from her, his hand already on the doorknob.
“Can you stay with me?” Spike whirled around, his eyes locking with hers. Buffy dragged her eyes away from his; the emotions were too overwhelming. “Just until I fall asleep,” she stammered, eyes downcast.
“Sure,” he said with a nod.
Buffy lay down on the bed and curled on her side. She tucked her bandaged hands beneath her chin like a child, closing her eyes.
She felt safe with Spike around.
Spike sat down on the floor, his back against the door and eyes closed as he concentrated on her breathing and heartbeat. Soon, her breathing became slow and regular. The sounds placated him and moments later, sleep took him.
Not long after, Buffy's voice woke him up. He opened his eyes, glancing immediately at Buffy. She was still asleep, stirring, tossing, turning, and talking.
Spike stood up and drew nearer. Her eyes were screwed shut and her arms were raised, hands gripping the pillow on either side of her head. She was dreaming.
Spike walked to the side of her bed. “Buffy,” said he, slightly shaking her. “Buffy, wake up.”
A hand seized his throat. Buffy had sat up and was now holding Spike above the ground, her eyes still closed. She was still asleep. Spike's eyes grew wide as Buffy easily held him there. “Buffy!” he screamed, scrambling to get free of her powerful hand wrapped around his throat. “Buffy!”
Buffy finally roused, and startled, she released Spike. “Oh, God,” she said.
“I see you're getting your slayer strength back,” Spike said in a raspy voice, rubbing at his neck and wincing.
Buffy frowned and looked down in embarrassment. “I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”
Spike sighed and hesitantly sat on the bed, facing her. “It's all right. You were having a nightmare.”
“I was,” she spoke softly. The images of the inside of the coffin, the dirt making its way in as she dug herself out, feeling trapped, helpless, gasping for air haunted her dreams. She shook the thoughts away.
“Want to talk about it?”
She looked up at him, grimacing. “Not really.”
She needed time. “Okay,” Spike answered and smiled.
Relieved that she could count on one person not to push her, she smiled back sincerely.
Chapter 19
Willow had slept for barely two hours when the ruckus from Buffy's room woke her up. She sat up and listened for more noises. When she heard nothing but the chirping of crickets, she lay back down and tried to go back to sleep.
After ten minutes of counting sheep and specks on the ceiling, she still lay awake in her bed. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well do something productive, like research about the demon they'd dealt with. With a huff, she pulled the covers back and climbed out of bed. She slipped on her slippers and headed downstairs.
She'd placed some of their books about demons in the living room. “Spike?” she called out as she stepped into the room. She saw he wasn't there, thought for a moment about where he could be, but she didn't dwell on it long. He probably went up to Buffy's room when he heard the noise.
She turned to the disarrayed bookshelf and, squatting in front of it, searched for the books she needed. Coming across one, she pulled it out and set it on the floor beside her. She fingered through the books again and pulled out three more.
Carrying the thick books, she moved into the dining area. She placed the texts on the table and pulled up a seat. She sat down, took one of the books from the stack and began flipping through it.
An hour and a half of skimming through dusty texts later, just as she heard footsteps on the stairs, Willow found an entry about the demon they'd seen.
Xander had woken up and was now standing by the dining room's entryway. He looked up at the clock as he yawned and stretched. It was just barely five o'clock. “Good morning,” he said to Willow.
“Morning,” Willow answered, not glancing up from the page of the book she was reading.
Xander saw the books splayed out on the table and asked, “How long have you been up?”
“A while,” she answered, finally looking up from the book. “I heard voices. Woke me up. But I found what demon fake Buffy was.”
Xander pulled up a seat next to Willow who moved the book to his view. “What was it?”
“It was a shape-shifter. One of various kinds. This one,” she pointed at the illustration of the maroon demon, “is called a Rakshasa. Those long fingernails are venomous and can kill instantly. Of course, that is when they are in their demon form. They're supposed to be immortal beings too, but when they assume a mortal's body, they can be killed.”
Xander nodded. “What I don't get is why Spike didn't know it wasn't her. I mean, don't vampires have this scent thing?”
“That's because with the blood they drink or the flesh they eat from their victim, and very powerful dark magic, they create an elaborate illusion. They can fool anyone, even empaths.”
“Oh,” was all Xander had to say. “Then what about the woman Spike said he saw?”
Willow rolled her eyes to the ceiling, seemingly thinking. And then she looked at Xander again. “Yeah, I have nothing.”
Xander shrugged. “It's not important. Buffy's safe now and hopefully will be back to her Buffy-shaped self soon enough.” He paused. “I was thinking we should go back to L.A.”
“Today? Xander, Buffy's still adjusting.”
“Well, she certainly won't adjust here. Not in a hell hole like this,” Xander argued, gesturing around the disheveled house.
“You're right.” Willow sighed. “How are we going to get there anyway?”
“Angel let me borrow his car. I told him I needed to pick up a few things here,” Xander replied.
“Does he know about Buffy?”
“Not yet,” Xander said as he stood up. “Good thing the guy's heart doesn't beat or we'd be surely giving him a heart attack when we arrive.”
Spike had stayed with Buffy the rest of the wee hours of the morning. He'd sat on the floor by the door, just watching her. She'd looked so weary and consternated that he just wanted to hold her in his arms and make her feel safe. But he settled for just watching her now.
Buffy had not slept a wink since her nightmare. She didn't dare close her eyes lest she drift off to sleep and dream about what had happened to her again. Her dream was so vivid that she had been able to feel the lack of air, the coffin's lining, the layers of fabric and wood scathing her knuckles and the slithery worms squirming and crawling over her as she drudged her way through the damp earth.
If she dreamed about what the woman did to her? What she and that thing did to her? She'd never be able to sleep again.
When morning came, faint light seeped through the thin curtains. Spike stood up and glanced at Buffy. She rolled to her side, turning her back to him. He sighed as he headed out of the room and downstairs, hoping she'd finally be able to get some sleep.
In the living room, Dawn, Willow and Xander were already awake, packing some of the weapons they usually used, old important texts and a few other personal effects they'd left the first time they headed for Los Angeles.
Spike scoffed as he approached them. It was just like them to decide what was best for Buffy without even asking her first. They'd all just assumed Buffy would traipse off to Los Angeles with them to her vampire with a soul honey. Granted, there was nothing here for them any more. But that wasn't the point.
When Spike entered the room, Dawn looked up from the box she was sealing with packing tape. “Hey, how's Buffy?” she asked, while Xander and Willow continued stuffing their belongings into boxes.
“Hasn't slept much. But she's resting,” he answered, looking around the almost cleaned out living room.
“None of us could really get much sleep either,” Dawn replied. She pushed the box beside two more sealed boxes and stood up.
“We need to get that fixed.” Buffy was now standing in the hallway, at the foot of the stairs, staring at what used to be the front door. She made her way into the living room and stopped beside Spike by the threshold when she noticed what they were doing.
Xander walked towards her, a hint of awe in his expression, and hugged her. “I can't believe you're really here.”
Buffy hugged back but was too distracted with the boxes piled up and she pulled away. “Did I miss something?”
“Well,” Willow hesitantly began, gauging Buffy's reaction. “We all decided that we should move to L.A.” She glanced at Xander. “With Angel. In the Hyperion.”
Buffy pursed her lips and cocked her head. “Why?”
Xander, noticing how uncomfortable Willow was, explained. “This place's dead, Buffy. There's no one here. There's nothing here. Only demons and a few other crazies who won't leave their houses.”
“But isn't it kind of my job to get rid of the demons? And saving people?” said Buffy.
Dawn shrank back when Buffy's gaze drifted to her direction. She decided to stay out of the discussion and remained silent when she saw how reluctant Buffy was.
“You shouldn't worry about that right now. You're still recovering from what happened,” Xander said calmly. “Besides, there's no one here to save,” he added, gesturing with his hands for emphasis.
Buffy opened her mouth, as if to speak, but she didn't know what to say. She fidgeted in her place, irritated beyond reason. She hadn't even gotten used to the idea of being resurrected and escaping torture and here they were, making her decisions for her. She needed closure, and she wouldn't have that if she ran as far away as possible from her problem. “But the house...” she said through gritted teeth, trying to sound as calm as possible.
Spike had to admit that the whelp's point was pretty convincing. If Buffy stayed here, where there was nothing but darkness, it would just eat at her and she'd never be able to move on. She needed to be around people. Alive people, not the undead.
But, by the look in her eyes, he knew she wanted to stay for different reasons, too. And if she couldn't stay, then he had to do it for her. “I'm staying here,” Spike blurted out.
Buffy frowned at Spike. He was the one person she knew would understand, would back her up, wouldn't make her choices for her.
“I can keep this house safe if you decide to come back,” he shrugged. “Besides, I don't think I could stand living with that pillock.”
Buffy shook her head. “Then I'm staying here with you.”
“What?” Xander and Willow simultaneously asked with twin expressions of shock.
After ten minutes of counting sheep and specks on the ceiling, she still lay awake in her bed. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well do something productive, like research about the demon they'd dealt with. With a huff, she pulled the covers back and climbed out of bed. She slipped on her slippers and headed downstairs.
She'd placed some of their books about demons in the living room. “Spike?” she called out as she stepped into the room. She saw he wasn't there, thought for a moment about where he could be, but she didn't dwell on it long. He probably went up to Buffy's room when he heard the noise.
She turned to the disarrayed bookshelf and, squatting in front of it, searched for the books she needed. Coming across one, she pulled it out and set it on the floor beside her. She fingered through the books again and pulled out three more.
Carrying the thick books, she moved into the dining area. She placed the texts on the table and pulled up a seat. She sat down, took one of the books from the stack and began flipping through it.
An hour and a half of skimming through dusty texts later, just as she heard footsteps on the stairs, Willow found an entry about the demon they'd seen.
Xander had woken up and was now standing by the dining room's entryway. He looked up at the clock as he yawned and stretched. It was just barely five o'clock. “Good morning,” he said to Willow.
“Morning,” Willow answered, not glancing up from the page of the book she was reading.
Xander saw the books splayed out on the table and asked, “How long have you been up?”
“A while,” she answered, finally looking up from the book. “I heard voices. Woke me up. But I found what demon fake Buffy was.”
Xander pulled up a seat next to Willow who moved the book to his view. “What was it?”
“It was a shape-shifter. One of various kinds. This one,” she pointed at the illustration of the maroon demon, “is called a Rakshasa. Those long fingernails are venomous and can kill instantly. Of course, that is when they are in their demon form. They're supposed to be immortal beings too, but when they assume a mortal's body, they can be killed.”
Xander nodded. “What I don't get is why Spike didn't know it wasn't her. I mean, don't vampires have this scent thing?”
“That's because with the blood they drink or the flesh they eat from their victim, and very powerful dark magic, they create an elaborate illusion. They can fool anyone, even empaths.”
“Oh,” was all Xander had to say. “Then what about the woman Spike said he saw?”
Willow rolled her eyes to the ceiling, seemingly thinking. And then she looked at Xander again. “Yeah, I have nothing.”
Xander shrugged. “It's not important. Buffy's safe now and hopefully will be back to her Buffy-shaped self soon enough.” He paused. “I was thinking we should go back to L.A.”
“Today? Xander, Buffy's still adjusting.”
“Well, she certainly won't adjust here. Not in a hell hole like this,” Xander argued, gesturing around the disheveled house.
“You're right.” Willow sighed. “How are we going to get there anyway?”
“Angel let me borrow his car. I told him I needed to pick up a few things here,” Xander replied.
“Does he know about Buffy?”
“Not yet,” Xander said as he stood up. “Good thing the guy's heart doesn't beat or we'd be surely giving him a heart attack when we arrive.”
Spike had stayed with Buffy the rest of the wee hours of the morning. He'd sat on the floor by the door, just watching her. She'd looked so weary and consternated that he just wanted to hold her in his arms and make her feel safe. But he settled for just watching her now.
Buffy had not slept a wink since her nightmare. She didn't dare close her eyes lest she drift off to sleep and dream about what had happened to her again. Her dream was so vivid that she had been able to feel the lack of air, the coffin's lining, the layers of fabric and wood scathing her knuckles and the slithery worms squirming and crawling over her as she drudged her way through the damp earth.
If she dreamed about what the woman did to her? What she and that thing did to her? She'd never be able to sleep again.
When morning came, faint light seeped through the thin curtains. Spike stood up and glanced at Buffy. She rolled to her side, turning her back to him. He sighed as he headed out of the room and downstairs, hoping she'd finally be able to get some sleep.
In the living room, Dawn, Willow and Xander were already awake, packing some of the weapons they usually used, old important texts and a few other personal effects they'd left the first time they headed for Los Angeles.
Spike scoffed as he approached them. It was just like them to decide what was best for Buffy without even asking her first. They'd all just assumed Buffy would traipse off to Los Angeles with them to her vampire with a soul honey. Granted, there was nothing here for them any more. But that wasn't the point.
When Spike entered the room, Dawn looked up from the box she was sealing with packing tape. “Hey, how's Buffy?” she asked, while Xander and Willow continued stuffing their belongings into boxes.
“Hasn't slept much. But she's resting,” he answered, looking around the almost cleaned out living room.
“None of us could really get much sleep either,” Dawn replied. She pushed the box beside two more sealed boxes and stood up.
“We need to get that fixed.” Buffy was now standing in the hallway, at the foot of the stairs, staring at what used to be the front door. She made her way into the living room and stopped beside Spike by the threshold when she noticed what they were doing.
Xander walked towards her, a hint of awe in his expression, and hugged her. “I can't believe you're really here.”
Buffy hugged back but was too distracted with the boxes piled up and she pulled away. “Did I miss something?”
“Well,” Willow hesitantly began, gauging Buffy's reaction. “We all decided that we should move to L.A.” She glanced at Xander. “With Angel. In the Hyperion.”
Buffy pursed her lips and cocked her head. “Why?”
Xander, noticing how uncomfortable Willow was, explained. “This place's dead, Buffy. There's no one here. There's nothing here. Only demons and a few other crazies who won't leave their houses.”
“But isn't it kind of my job to get rid of the demons? And saving people?” said Buffy.
Dawn shrank back when Buffy's gaze drifted to her direction. She decided to stay out of the discussion and remained silent when she saw how reluctant Buffy was.
“You shouldn't worry about that right now. You're still recovering from what happened,” Xander said calmly. “Besides, there's no one here to save,” he added, gesturing with his hands for emphasis.
Buffy opened her mouth, as if to speak, but she didn't know what to say. She fidgeted in her place, irritated beyond reason. She hadn't even gotten used to the idea of being resurrected and escaping torture and here they were, making her decisions for her. She needed closure, and she wouldn't have that if she ran as far away as possible from her problem. “But the house...” she said through gritted teeth, trying to sound as calm as possible.
Spike had to admit that the whelp's point was pretty convincing. If Buffy stayed here, where there was nothing but darkness, it would just eat at her and she'd never be able to move on. She needed to be around people. Alive people, not the undead.
But, by the look in her eyes, he knew she wanted to stay for different reasons, too. And if she couldn't stay, then he had to do it for her. “I'm staying here,” Spike blurted out.
Buffy frowned at Spike. He was the one person she knew would understand, would back her up, wouldn't make her choices for her.
“I can keep this house safe if you decide to come back,” he shrugged. “Besides, I don't think I could stand living with that pillock.”
Buffy shook her head. “Then I'm staying here with you.”
“What?” Xander and Willow simultaneously asked with twin expressions of shock.
Chapter 20
Xander squatted before the makeshift door that he had agreed to fix up. He didn't want Buffy staying here, especially with Spike, any more than Willow did. But since Buffy wouldn't change her mind, he couldn't leave her in a house without even a door.
If they told Angel that Buffy was alive, he would want to see her right away and would probably convince her to go back to Los Angeles with him. Until then, he could keep his mouth shut and let Buffy do what she wanted to do.
“The sun's going down.” He tightened the final screw on the hinge and stood up. “We should get going,” he said to Willow and Dawn, who were seated in the dining room with Buffy, the two girls still trying to convince Buffy to go with them.
Buffy stood up, letting out a deep sigh of relief, and walked towards Xander. She gave him a light squeeze on his left arm and said, “I'll see you soon, okay?” She fixed him with an apologetic look, seeing how uncomfortable he was with the idea of leaving without her.
Xander nodded, not trying the least bit to hide his frown. “Just be careful.”
Willow stood up and walked towards the two. “Buffy, are you sure about this?” She wanted, expected even, Buffy to change her mind. It was insane, how Buffy chose to be with Spike rather than be with them. But if this was what she needed, then Willow had to let her be, at least this once.
“Yes, I'm sure,” Buffy said, feeling as if she'd said that too many times already. She figured she should be glad that they didn't question her about heaven or the mystery woman and the shape-shifter. She wasn't ready to talk about those things yet, especially with the people who brought her back in the first place. “I'll be fine.”
Xander and Willow both sighed in defeat, knowing how stubborn Buffy could be.
“Dawn, let's go,” Xander said as he went out the door.
Dawn stood by the foot of the stairwell, clutching the strap of her bag against her shoulder and staring at the wooden floor. “I'm not going.”
Dawn lifted her chin up to meet her sister's questioning gaze. Buffy stepped forward towards her sister. “Dawn, we talked about this.” More than enough times, she thought.
Dawn dropped her shoulders and fiddled with the strap of her backpack. “Why can't I stay? Why can't you come with us?” she asked, her voice close to a whine.
“I just need some time alone.”
“Time alone. With Spike,” Dawn said skeptically.
Buffy sighed in frustration and lowered her eyes to the floor, breathing deeply when Dawn spoke again.
Dawn shifted and softly said, “I just want to understand.”
Buffy couldn't give the answer her sister wanted to hear and thought it was best not to answer her. Instead, she took her sister into her arms and endeavored to soothe her with a hug and a quick kiss on her forehead.
Dawn pulled away with a forced smile and moved past her, glancing at Spike who was standing by the doorway.
Buffy moved to stand beside Spike, and they watched Dawn get into the backseat of the car with one final wave. As the car drove off, Buffy exhaled slowly. Once her friends were out of sight, the two faced each other.
Spike eyed Buffy shrewdly. Buffy stood, with a look of determination and resolution. Without a word, she went down into the basement, the heels of her cream-colored boots clomping on the wooden steps.
Spike heard clanking sounds from below, and moments later, Buffy was closing the door behind her. In her hands were a sledgehammer and a small flashlight.
She stopped in front of him, her face stern, her lips firmly pressed together. “You coming with?” She slipped the flashlight into the front pocket of her jeans.
Spike cocked his head and squinted at her for a second, before grabbing his coat from the railing of the stairs. He looked at her squarely. “Do I have a choice?”
“No,” Buffy said, and walked out into the front yard.
“Thought as much,” Spike said to himself with a nod. He closed the improvised door and jogged after her. When he caught up to her and she looked over her shoulder, he said, “She's human.”
“I know,” Buffy said curtly, not taking a moment to turn to Spike.
“There was nothing there any more.”
“I know,” she said, slightly raising the hammer in her hand as an answer.
Spike laughed softly and shook his head. “Even if we do find her, what then?”
Buffy remained silent as she took long strides, quickening her pace. She didn't know the answer to his question. She didn't know what she wanted to do once she was face to face with the woman, but she knew she wanted to find her. She wanted the woman to see exactly whom she'd messed with.
“You can't kill her,” Spike warned, and jarred Buffy out of her vindictive thoughts.
She stopped abruptly and faced Spike, hot blood of vendetta seething inside her. “I know, okay?” she snapped, flailing her hands, and the sledgehammer, in the air. Spike was taken aback, and backpedaled. She sighed as she softened, gripping the hammer in her white knuckles. “I know.”
“I don't want you doing anything you'd regret,” Spike said just above a whisper as he gazed into her eyes, then at her still wounded knuckles.
She stood before him in silence, sledgehammer in her trembling hands.
“We should have stayed with her,” Dawn muttered, breaking the silence in the car, her arms folded over her bag.
Willow and Xander gave each other looks. Willow remained silent, as she was thinking the same thing as Dawn. But Xander had been set on leaving the minute he'd arrived.
“The food we have left wouldn't be enough for five people for another day,” Xander said as he steered the car around a corner to Main Street.
Dawn huffed and hugged her bag tighter. “Spike doesn't eat.”
Xander breathed harshly. “Then there's still four of us. Plus, we can't go on eating stale cereal and canned goods.”
“We could steal some food,” Dawn argued.
“Dawn!” Willow chided, and Xander shot a reprimanding glare at Dawn in the rear view mirror.
“It's not like anyone would mind.” Dawn looked at the supermarket they'd just passed. The building was only as small as a convenience store. Its fluorescent lights flickered on and off, its glass doors were shattered, and its sign hung unevenly. The littered debris in front of the store was on fire. She shrugged. “It probably won't even be considered stealing,” she mumbled to herself.
Willow looked over at Dawn over the back of the seat. “We'll come back for her when she's ready.”
Dawn raised an eyebrow and said, “And by ‘we’, you mean all of you except me.”
Willow faced front again with a deep breath, closed her eyes and massaged her temples. It was going to be one long ride.
With no warning, the car came to a screeching halt. Dawn and Willow both looked at Xander in surprise.
“Xander?” Willow stared at him questioningly, as he clutched the steering wheel, seemingly deep in contemplation.
It took another “Xander?” from Willow for him to face her. “Maybe we should go back,” Xander said, and both girls smiled. “Because I don't think we can go through that,” he added, pointing at the band of biker demons huddled around a barrel of fire a few yards away. Willow and Dawn gave each other worried glances and frowned.
“Is this it?” Buffy turned to Spike, pointing at the crypt with the sledgehammer, and when he nodded, she kicked the door of the crypt down.
“You do know that was unlocked,” Spike said as he followed Buffy inside.
Buffy shrugged, pulled the flashlight from her pocket and approached the sarcophagus on the right. She stood beside it, a hand gently placed over the marble, over the inscription. Her chin quivered, and Spike cleared his throat and shifted where he stood. Her vision blurred and burned with tears; she clenched her jaw against it.
“You need help–” Spike started to ask, and Buffy pushed the lid off the coffin. “That's a no, then,” he mumbled and walked towards her as she shone the flashlight on the sarcophagus. He saw the same things that he and Xander had seen earlier: bones and a concrete bottom. “Like I said, nothing there.”
“There's no dirt or dust,” she said suddenly, and Spike looked up at her curiously. Then, without warning, she swung the sledgehammer and struck the concrete. Spike stepped back, mouth dropped open, as Buffy continued to bring the sledgehammer down onto the already cracked concrete. He watched as she vigorously continued to smash the concrete. The few large pieces the cement had broken into fell in, revealing the wooden stairwell.
Spike moved to stand next to Buffy again. “Right.” He grimaced at the idea that he didn't realize the cement would have only been a cover and just three inches thick.
Buffy looked up at him and saw the look of failure on Spike's face. “You wouldn't have been able to break it,” she assured him and trained the flashlight inside. The stairs were charred black. It was still there, but barely, and she was sure that it would give in if they attempted to descend it. “She burned it down,” she said, her voice laced with disappointment. She stared blankly with a look of defeat. “She's really gone.”
“Come on,” Spike said softly as he gently took her by the arm.
Xander was sitting on the stairs, his chin resting on his hand, when he heard footsteps on the front porch. “They're here,” he said, and Willow and Dawn came out of the living room into the hallway as the makeshift door opened.
Buffy had been surprised to see their car back in the driveway. “What are you still doing here?”
Xander suspiciously eyed the sledgehammer in Spike's hand. “Demons. We couldn't get past them.”
“Where were you?” Willow asked Buffy worriedly, as Spike came in and stood behind Buffy.
Buffy turned to her but remained silent. She lowered her head, excused herself and went up to her room.
Spike frowned as she watched her, before answering Willow. “Went back to the cemetery. Tried to find the bitch.” He leaned the sledgehammer against the wall.
“I knew it,” Dawn whispered.
“She really wants to find whoever was behind all of this,” Xander said, his lips upturned.
Spike nodded sullenly and made his way upstairs to convince Buffy to go back to Los Angeles with Dawn. The door to Buffy's room was ajar, and she was already stuffing some of her clothes in a gray duffel bag. She looked up when he knocked on the door and stepped in.
Spike pointed at the bag and the clothes splayed on top of the bed. “You're going with them, then?”
Buffy nodded, smiling slightly, wringing the blouse in her hands.
“That's good,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose it's for the best.” He sighed. “I'm sorry I couldn't help–”
At this, Buffy couldn't help but speak up. “Spike, you've already done so much for me.”
A grin tore at Spike's lips, but he tried to stifle it. Both of them fell silent for a moment, Buffy fumbling with the blouse in her hands and Spike staring at the floor.
When Spike had taken one hell of a beating from Glory to protect Dawn, Buffy knew he'd do anything for her. She was grateful, and from that moment, trusted him with Dawn. But even after all that, she still didn't trust him with herself, with her heart. Now, she was willing to let him in. “I want you to come with us.”
Spike lit up until he remembered that Angel would be there, and he scoffed. “And see you and your honey give each other mooneyes all day?”
Buffy sighed. “It won't be like that.” She walked closer to Spike and gazed intently into his blue eyes. “I'm not taking no for an answer.”
If they told Angel that Buffy was alive, he would want to see her right away and would probably convince her to go back to Los Angeles with him. Until then, he could keep his mouth shut and let Buffy do what she wanted to do.
“The sun's going down.” He tightened the final screw on the hinge and stood up. “We should get going,” he said to Willow and Dawn, who were seated in the dining room with Buffy, the two girls still trying to convince Buffy to go with them.
Buffy stood up, letting out a deep sigh of relief, and walked towards Xander. She gave him a light squeeze on his left arm and said, “I'll see you soon, okay?” She fixed him with an apologetic look, seeing how uncomfortable he was with the idea of leaving without her.
Xander nodded, not trying the least bit to hide his frown. “Just be careful.”
Willow stood up and walked towards the two. “Buffy, are you sure about this?” She wanted, expected even, Buffy to change her mind. It was insane, how Buffy chose to be with Spike rather than be with them. But if this was what she needed, then Willow had to let her be, at least this once.
“Yes, I'm sure,” Buffy said, feeling as if she'd said that too many times already. She figured she should be glad that they didn't question her about heaven or the mystery woman and the shape-shifter. She wasn't ready to talk about those things yet, especially with the people who brought her back in the first place. “I'll be fine.”
Xander and Willow both sighed in defeat, knowing how stubborn Buffy could be.
“Dawn, let's go,” Xander said as he went out the door.
Dawn stood by the foot of the stairwell, clutching the strap of her bag against her shoulder and staring at the wooden floor. “I'm not going.”
Dawn lifted her chin up to meet her sister's questioning gaze. Buffy stepped forward towards her sister. “Dawn, we talked about this.” More than enough times, she thought.
Dawn dropped her shoulders and fiddled with the strap of her backpack. “Why can't I stay? Why can't you come with us?” she asked, her voice close to a whine.
“I just need some time alone.”
“Time alone. With Spike,” Dawn said skeptically.
Buffy sighed in frustration and lowered her eyes to the floor, breathing deeply when Dawn spoke again.
Dawn shifted and softly said, “I just want to understand.”
Buffy couldn't give the answer her sister wanted to hear and thought it was best not to answer her. Instead, she took her sister into her arms and endeavored to soothe her with a hug and a quick kiss on her forehead.
Dawn pulled away with a forced smile and moved past her, glancing at Spike who was standing by the doorway.
Buffy moved to stand beside Spike, and they watched Dawn get into the backseat of the car with one final wave. As the car drove off, Buffy exhaled slowly. Once her friends were out of sight, the two faced each other.
Spike eyed Buffy shrewdly. Buffy stood, with a look of determination and resolution. Without a word, she went down into the basement, the heels of her cream-colored boots clomping on the wooden steps.
Spike heard clanking sounds from below, and moments later, Buffy was closing the door behind her. In her hands were a sledgehammer and a small flashlight.
She stopped in front of him, her face stern, her lips firmly pressed together. “You coming with?” She slipped the flashlight into the front pocket of her jeans.
Spike cocked his head and squinted at her for a second, before grabbing his coat from the railing of the stairs. He looked at her squarely. “Do I have a choice?”
“No,” Buffy said, and walked out into the front yard.
“Thought as much,” Spike said to himself with a nod. He closed the improvised door and jogged after her. When he caught up to her and she looked over her shoulder, he said, “She's human.”
“I know,” Buffy said curtly, not taking a moment to turn to Spike.
“There was nothing there any more.”
“I know,” she said, slightly raising the hammer in her hand as an answer.
Spike laughed softly and shook his head. “Even if we do find her, what then?”
Buffy remained silent as she took long strides, quickening her pace. She didn't know the answer to his question. She didn't know what she wanted to do once she was face to face with the woman, but she knew she wanted to find her. She wanted the woman to see exactly whom she'd messed with.
“You can't kill her,” Spike warned, and jarred Buffy out of her vindictive thoughts.
She stopped abruptly and faced Spike, hot blood of vendetta seething inside her. “I know, okay?” she snapped, flailing her hands, and the sledgehammer, in the air. Spike was taken aback, and backpedaled. She sighed as she softened, gripping the hammer in her white knuckles. “I know.”
“I don't want you doing anything you'd regret,” Spike said just above a whisper as he gazed into her eyes, then at her still wounded knuckles.
She stood before him in silence, sledgehammer in her trembling hands.
“We should have stayed with her,” Dawn muttered, breaking the silence in the car, her arms folded over her bag.
Willow and Xander gave each other looks. Willow remained silent, as she was thinking the same thing as Dawn. But Xander had been set on leaving the minute he'd arrived.
“The food we have left wouldn't be enough for five people for another day,” Xander said as he steered the car around a corner to Main Street.
Dawn huffed and hugged her bag tighter. “Spike doesn't eat.”
Xander breathed harshly. “Then there's still four of us. Plus, we can't go on eating stale cereal and canned goods.”
“We could steal some food,” Dawn argued.
“Dawn!” Willow chided, and Xander shot a reprimanding glare at Dawn in the rear view mirror.
“It's not like anyone would mind.” Dawn looked at the supermarket they'd just passed. The building was only as small as a convenience store. Its fluorescent lights flickered on and off, its glass doors were shattered, and its sign hung unevenly. The littered debris in front of the store was on fire. She shrugged. “It probably won't even be considered stealing,” she mumbled to herself.
Willow looked over at Dawn over the back of the seat. “We'll come back for her when she's ready.”
Dawn raised an eyebrow and said, “And by ‘we’, you mean all of you except me.”
Willow faced front again with a deep breath, closed her eyes and massaged her temples. It was going to be one long ride.
With no warning, the car came to a screeching halt. Dawn and Willow both looked at Xander in surprise.
“Xander?” Willow stared at him questioningly, as he clutched the steering wheel, seemingly deep in contemplation.
It took another “Xander?” from Willow for him to face her. “Maybe we should go back,” Xander said, and both girls smiled. “Because I don't think we can go through that,” he added, pointing at the band of biker demons huddled around a barrel of fire a few yards away. Willow and Dawn gave each other worried glances and frowned.
“Is this it?” Buffy turned to Spike, pointing at the crypt with the sledgehammer, and when he nodded, she kicked the door of the crypt down.
“You do know that was unlocked,” Spike said as he followed Buffy inside.
Buffy shrugged, pulled the flashlight from her pocket and approached the sarcophagus on the right. She stood beside it, a hand gently placed over the marble, over the inscription. Her chin quivered, and Spike cleared his throat and shifted where he stood. Her vision blurred and burned with tears; she clenched her jaw against it.
“You need help–” Spike started to ask, and Buffy pushed the lid off the coffin. “That's a no, then,” he mumbled and walked towards her as she shone the flashlight on the sarcophagus. He saw the same things that he and Xander had seen earlier: bones and a concrete bottom. “Like I said, nothing there.”
“There's no dirt or dust,” she said suddenly, and Spike looked up at her curiously. Then, without warning, she swung the sledgehammer and struck the concrete. Spike stepped back, mouth dropped open, as Buffy continued to bring the sledgehammer down onto the already cracked concrete. He watched as she vigorously continued to smash the concrete. The few large pieces the cement had broken into fell in, revealing the wooden stairwell.
Spike moved to stand next to Buffy again. “Right.” He grimaced at the idea that he didn't realize the cement would have only been a cover and just three inches thick.
Buffy looked up at him and saw the look of failure on Spike's face. “You wouldn't have been able to break it,” she assured him and trained the flashlight inside. The stairs were charred black. It was still there, but barely, and she was sure that it would give in if they attempted to descend it. “She burned it down,” she said, her voice laced with disappointment. She stared blankly with a look of defeat. “She's really gone.”
“Come on,” Spike said softly as he gently took her by the arm.
Xander was sitting on the stairs, his chin resting on his hand, when he heard footsteps on the front porch. “They're here,” he said, and Willow and Dawn came out of the living room into the hallway as the makeshift door opened.
Buffy had been surprised to see their car back in the driveway. “What are you still doing here?”
Xander suspiciously eyed the sledgehammer in Spike's hand. “Demons. We couldn't get past them.”
“Where were you?” Willow asked Buffy worriedly, as Spike came in and stood behind Buffy.
Buffy turned to her but remained silent. She lowered her head, excused herself and went up to her room.
Spike frowned as she watched her, before answering Willow. “Went back to the cemetery. Tried to find the bitch.” He leaned the sledgehammer against the wall.
“I knew it,” Dawn whispered.
“She really wants to find whoever was behind all of this,” Xander said, his lips upturned.
Spike nodded sullenly and made his way upstairs to convince Buffy to go back to Los Angeles with Dawn. The door to Buffy's room was ajar, and she was already stuffing some of her clothes in a gray duffel bag. She looked up when he knocked on the door and stepped in.
Spike pointed at the bag and the clothes splayed on top of the bed. “You're going with them, then?”
Buffy nodded, smiling slightly, wringing the blouse in her hands.
“That's good,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose it's for the best.” He sighed. “I'm sorry I couldn't help–”
At this, Buffy couldn't help but speak up. “Spike, you've already done so much for me.”
A grin tore at Spike's lips, but he tried to stifle it. Both of them fell silent for a moment, Buffy fumbling with the blouse in her hands and Spike staring at the floor.
When Spike had taken one hell of a beating from Glory to protect Dawn, Buffy knew he'd do anything for her. She was grateful, and from that moment, trusted him with Dawn. But even after all that, she still didn't trust him with herself, with her heart. Now, she was willing to let him in. “I want you to come with us.”
Spike lit up until he remembered that Angel would be there, and he scoffed. “And see you and your honey give each other mooneyes all day?”
Buffy sighed. “It won't be like that.” She walked closer to Spike and gazed intently into his blue eyes. “I'm not taking no for an answer.”
Chapter 21
The driver's side mirror hung limply by a wire. Xander worriedly glanced at it as he parked Angel's black convertible in front of the Hyperion. He was relieved that they'd gotten past the demons back in Sunnydale, but could already imagine Angel's face once he saw the smashed headlights, the badly dented front bumper, the broken windshield and windows, and the scratches on the side. He'd had to put the wrecked top down too.
“Angel's going to kill me,” he said as he and Spike stepped out of the convertible, followed by Dawn and Willow who were sitting on either side of Buffy in the backseat.
Buffy remained seated in the car, absently playing with a strand of hair and seriously said, “Tell him I was the one driving.”
Xander let out a chuckle. Willow shook her head at him, looking at him with wide eyes. Dawn stood by the gate of the hotel, squinting at him curiously, and Spike rolled his eyes as he leaned on the right side of the car.
When Xander saw their reactions and the sober expression on Buffy's face, his laughter died down. He cleared his throat, smiled awkwardly at her and whispered to Willow, “I thought she was kidding.”
Buffy brushed it off, got out and walked to the back of the car just as Xander opened the trunk. She picked up her duffel bag, slung the strap over her shoulder, and grabbed one of the larger boxes that had Buffy written on it in large black letters.
Willow lifted another box out of the trunk of the car and pouted when Xander turned to Buffy and said, “Here, let me help you with that.”
Buffy shrugged Xander off before he could take the box from her hands. She may have just gone through something very traumatic, but she was still the slayer, and she was still stronger than all of them combined. “I've got it,” she said with a frown marring her already serious expression as she turned the box away from him.
With slumped shoulders, Xander watched Buffy follow Willow and Dawn inside the front gate of the Hyperion. Shaking his head and taking another box out of the trunk, he noticed Spike was the only one who wasn't carrying anything. He gestured at the two boxes left in the trunk. “Spike, do you mind?”
Spike turned to him, puffing out smoke, and crushed the cigarette under his boot. “Yeah,” he nodded once, “I do.”
Glowering, Xander closed the trunk lid and followed the three women. Spike walked behind him with a smirk on his face.
Once they were all inside the courtyard, Buffy slowed her pace down until she came to a complete stop. She couldn't be any less excited about staying with Angel, but she knew it would be better for her and Dawn if they weren’t living on the Hellmouth. She had to move on and live life.
“I can't believe I agreed to this,” Spike grumbled to himself, shaking his head and slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat as he came at Buffy's side. He glanced at her. “You okay, pet?”
Buffy stood still, eyes glued to the ground. She lifted her head to meet his gaze and said, “No.” She inhaled deeply. “I don't think I can do this.”
Spike sighed and took the box from her hands without any objection from her. “I'll be right there with you,” he said sincerely, and then quipped, “sharing the agony of being within ten feet of Angel.”
Buffy released the breath she was holding with a quiet chuckle, and gave him a small appreciative smile. Steeling herself, she watched her friends file through the glass doors.
Spike gestured towards the front door with his head. “Come on.”
Lilah stood before the whole Angel Investigations team, tapping her foot impatiently. “I know you have it.”
Gunn crossed his arms. “If we do have it,” he stepped forward, “why the hell should we give it back?”
Before Lilah could speak, Tara sprang up from the red couch she'd been sitting on, immediately running up to Willow. “You're back!”
Angel pushed himself off the doorframe of his office, smiling slightly as the newly arrived group set their boxes and bags down. “Guess you came at a bad time,” he said to Lilah, who had spun around to face the new arrivals.
“Great. There's more of you,” Lilah said halfheartedly, grimacing, and pushed hair behind her ear. Coming here alone was a terrible idea, but she was not going to give them the pleasure of seeing her worried. So, she held her chin up and clasped her hands in front of her as Spike entered.
The smug grin on Angel's face disappeared when he saw the blond vampire with the Scoobies. An eyebrow raised in question, he said, “Spike? Why are you–” He choked on his words when he saw the girl he thought he'd never see again. It was Buffy. Alive. Her brows were furrowed and her lips were pursed as she surveyed the lobby with a jaded look in her eyes. She was miserable. But she was here. He'd missed her. “Buffy,” he said, and took a tentative step towards her. “You're...”
Buffy swallowed as deafening silence fell thick in the air. Tara, Wesley and the good-looking bald guy were staring at her, mouths agape. But the emotion in Angel's eyes, the expression of both pure bliss and astonishment on his features alone wrung her heart that she had to look away.
When Buffy's gaze fell on her, Lilah's lips curled into a sly smirk. Buffy's eyes widened, and she froze where she stood. All the memories that had almost left her thoughts came rushing back like a tidal wave crashing into the shore. The vivid images and the torrent of emotions overwhelmed her, and she began to shake. “You...”
Buffy's low, enraged voice ripped through the silence, and Spike quickly turned to face her. She moved past him, swiftly walking forward until she was mere inches from her captor. Spike stepped forward expectantly, but she held a hand up to stop him.
Although seeing Buffy unnerved her, a grin was still pasted on Lilah's face. “Hello, Buffy,” she said, concealing the fear in her voice well. Suddenly, a right hook landed on her jaw. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. Her head snapped to the side, and she staggered backwards from the force of the blow.
It wasn't enough. For all the horrible things Lilah had put her through, it wasn't enough.
As soon as Lilah dazedly lifted her head, Buffy threw another jab that connected with Lilah's chin. Propelled by fury, she fired more staggering punches in quick succession.
No one attempted to intervene. They were all too shocked. Willow had taken Dawn into her arms, shielding her from the brutality. Angel had backed away. He'd never seen Buffy like this.
Spike knew Buffy would never forgive herself for what she was willing to do. He ran down the steps towards her, shouting, “Buffy, stop!” But by the time he seized Buffy by the arms, Lilah had fallen to the ground. “Stop it!”
Realizing what she had done, Buffy lifted a hand to her mouth. “Oh, God...” She looked around and saw everyone's stunned and horrified expressions. “I...” She clenched her jaw. “I'm...” Lips trembling, she ran.
Spike faced the group and waited for someone to speak up, for anyone to go after Buffy. No one did. He scoffed. “I'll take care of it. You take care of her,” he said, pointing at Lilah's unconscious body on the floor. Shaking his head, he went after Buffy, who had run out to the courtyard.
Buffy quickly wiped her tears away when she heard the door open. Even before the hair at the nape of her neck stood up, she knew who it was. She knew Spike would be the only one brave enough, who cared enough, to talk to her after what they'd all just witnessed. It didn't matter, though. She knew he'd be the only one she could stand talking to anyway.
Spike moved to stand next to her, and she drew in a shaky breath. Her mind and heart were on overload, thoughts and emotions racing through her faster than she could process them. She found it hard to breathe.
Both stood in complete silence. Spike gazed up at the night sky. Buffy stared at the ground, her heart pounding in her chest. She lifted her hands and stared at the blood on her knuckles, the blood of her captor, the blood of vengeance. She hated what she'd become.
Tears streamed down her already tear-stained cheeks.
Spike shifted uneasily when she started sobbing. He turned to her and opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought of nothing to say.
Buffy threw herself against him, clinging to him desperately. Spike was startled, and his body stiffened momentarily in her embrace before he forced himself to relax. He could hear her heart beating at a breakneck pace. “What did I do, Spike? What did I do?”
Spike cautiously wrapped his arms around her, and Buffy pulled him closer, tighter. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and wept.
“Angel's going to kill me,” he said as he and Spike stepped out of the convertible, followed by Dawn and Willow who were sitting on either side of Buffy in the backseat.
Buffy remained seated in the car, absently playing with a strand of hair and seriously said, “Tell him I was the one driving.”
Xander let out a chuckle. Willow shook her head at him, looking at him with wide eyes. Dawn stood by the gate of the hotel, squinting at him curiously, and Spike rolled his eyes as he leaned on the right side of the car.
When Xander saw their reactions and the sober expression on Buffy's face, his laughter died down. He cleared his throat, smiled awkwardly at her and whispered to Willow, “I thought she was kidding.”
Buffy brushed it off, got out and walked to the back of the car just as Xander opened the trunk. She picked up her duffel bag, slung the strap over her shoulder, and grabbed one of the larger boxes that had Buffy written on it in large black letters.
Willow lifted another box out of the trunk of the car and pouted when Xander turned to Buffy and said, “Here, let me help you with that.”
Buffy shrugged Xander off before he could take the box from her hands. She may have just gone through something very traumatic, but she was still the slayer, and she was still stronger than all of them combined. “I've got it,” she said with a frown marring her already serious expression as she turned the box away from him.
With slumped shoulders, Xander watched Buffy follow Willow and Dawn inside the front gate of the Hyperion. Shaking his head and taking another box out of the trunk, he noticed Spike was the only one who wasn't carrying anything. He gestured at the two boxes left in the trunk. “Spike, do you mind?”
Spike turned to him, puffing out smoke, and crushed the cigarette under his boot. “Yeah,” he nodded once, “I do.”
Glowering, Xander closed the trunk lid and followed the three women. Spike walked behind him with a smirk on his face.
Once they were all inside the courtyard, Buffy slowed her pace down until she came to a complete stop. She couldn't be any less excited about staying with Angel, but she knew it would be better for her and Dawn if they weren’t living on the Hellmouth. She had to move on and live life.
“I can't believe I agreed to this,” Spike grumbled to himself, shaking his head and slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat as he came at Buffy's side. He glanced at her. “You okay, pet?”
Buffy stood still, eyes glued to the ground. She lifted her head to meet his gaze and said, “No.” She inhaled deeply. “I don't think I can do this.”
Spike sighed and took the box from her hands without any objection from her. “I'll be right there with you,” he said sincerely, and then quipped, “sharing the agony of being within ten feet of Angel.”
Buffy released the breath she was holding with a quiet chuckle, and gave him a small appreciative smile. Steeling herself, she watched her friends file through the glass doors.
Spike gestured towards the front door with his head. “Come on.”
Lilah stood before the whole Angel Investigations team, tapping her foot impatiently. “I know you have it.”
Gunn crossed his arms. “If we do have it,” he stepped forward, “why the hell should we give it back?”
Before Lilah could speak, Tara sprang up from the red couch she'd been sitting on, immediately running up to Willow. “You're back!”
Angel pushed himself off the doorframe of his office, smiling slightly as the newly arrived group set their boxes and bags down. “Guess you came at a bad time,” he said to Lilah, who had spun around to face the new arrivals.
“Great. There's more of you,” Lilah said halfheartedly, grimacing, and pushed hair behind her ear. Coming here alone was a terrible idea, but she was not going to give them the pleasure of seeing her worried. So, she held her chin up and clasped her hands in front of her as Spike entered.
The smug grin on Angel's face disappeared when he saw the blond vampire with the Scoobies. An eyebrow raised in question, he said, “Spike? Why are you–” He choked on his words when he saw the girl he thought he'd never see again. It was Buffy. Alive. Her brows were furrowed and her lips were pursed as she surveyed the lobby with a jaded look in her eyes. She was miserable. But she was here. He'd missed her. “Buffy,” he said, and took a tentative step towards her. “You're...”
Buffy swallowed as deafening silence fell thick in the air. Tara, Wesley and the good-looking bald guy were staring at her, mouths agape. But the emotion in Angel's eyes, the expression of both pure bliss and astonishment on his features alone wrung her heart that she had to look away.
When Buffy's gaze fell on her, Lilah's lips curled into a sly smirk. Buffy's eyes widened, and she froze where she stood. All the memories that had almost left her thoughts came rushing back like a tidal wave crashing into the shore. The vivid images and the torrent of emotions overwhelmed her, and she began to shake. “You...”
Buffy's low, enraged voice ripped through the silence, and Spike quickly turned to face her. She moved past him, swiftly walking forward until she was mere inches from her captor. Spike stepped forward expectantly, but she held a hand up to stop him.
Although seeing Buffy unnerved her, a grin was still pasted on Lilah's face. “Hello, Buffy,” she said, concealing the fear in her voice well. Suddenly, a right hook landed on her jaw. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. Her head snapped to the side, and she staggered backwards from the force of the blow.
It wasn't enough. For all the horrible things Lilah had put her through, it wasn't enough.
As soon as Lilah dazedly lifted her head, Buffy threw another jab that connected with Lilah's chin. Propelled by fury, she fired more staggering punches in quick succession.
No one attempted to intervene. They were all too shocked. Willow had taken Dawn into her arms, shielding her from the brutality. Angel had backed away. He'd never seen Buffy like this.
Spike knew Buffy would never forgive herself for what she was willing to do. He ran down the steps towards her, shouting, “Buffy, stop!” But by the time he seized Buffy by the arms, Lilah had fallen to the ground. “Stop it!”
Realizing what she had done, Buffy lifted a hand to her mouth. “Oh, God...” She looked around and saw everyone's stunned and horrified expressions. “I...” She clenched her jaw. “I'm...” Lips trembling, she ran.
Spike faced the group and waited for someone to speak up, for anyone to go after Buffy. No one did. He scoffed. “I'll take care of it. You take care of her,” he said, pointing at Lilah's unconscious body on the floor. Shaking his head, he went after Buffy, who had run out to the courtyard.
Buffy quickly wiped her tears away when she heard the door open. Even before the hair at the nape of her neck stood up, she knew who it was. She knew Spike would be the only one brave enough, who cared enough, to talk to her after what they'd all just witnessed. It didn't matter, though. She knew he'd be the only one she could stand talking to anyway.
Spike moved to stand next to her, and she drew in a shaky breath. Her mind and heart were on overload, thoughts and emotions racing through her faster than she could process them. She found it hard to breathe.
Both stood in complete silence. Spike gazed up at the night sky. Buffy stared at the ground, her heart pounding in her chest. She lifted her hands and stared at the blood on her knuckles, the blood of her captor, the blood of vengeance. She hated what she'd become.
Tears streamed down her already tear-stained cheeks.
Spike shifted uneasily when she started sobbing. He turned to her and opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought of nothing to say.
Buffy threw herself against him, clinging to him desperately. Spike was startled, and his body stiffened momentarily in her embrace before he forced himself to relax. He could hear her heart beating at a breakneck pace. “What did I do, Spike? What did I do?”
Spike cautiously wrapped his arms around her, and Buffy pulled him closer, tighter. She hid her face in the crook of his neck and wept.
Chapter 22
A/N: This is the second to the last chapter.
Angel remained where he stood, letting everything sink in, watching as Gunn, Wesley, Xander, Tara and Willow crowded over Lilah, concern on their faces.
He was amazed, ecstatic, that Buffy was here, alive. But seeing her so violent... It was all too much for him to handle at once.
Tara moved to Lilah's aid, and crouched down beside her. Looking up at Willow, she said worriedly, “We need to get her to a hospital.”
“We got her,” Gunn said, lifting Lilah in his arms. They heard laughter outside, and they all turned to the front door. Cordelia, Anya and Fred walked in, each with a couple of shopping bags in their hands.
“We should get going,” Wesley said. Gunn nodded and followed him, carrying Lilah out of the Hyperion.
Cordelia and Fred gaped at Lilah's unconscious form as the three passed by them. Anya only glanced at her with disinterest. All three girls turned to those still in the lobby as soon as Wesley and Gunn were outside.
“What happened?” Cordelia asked, making her way down the steps. No one dared answer. She looked at Angel with an eyebrow raised. “Angel? What's going on?” Angel lifted his head to face her, slid his hands inside the pockets of his pants, and without a single word, went inside the office. She scoffed and set her shopping bags on the floor. “Someone tell me what the hell just happened here,” she demanded, folding her arms over her chest.
“It's Buffy,” Xander said carefully. “She's... We...” He cleared his throat, finding it hard to say what he needed to say.
“We brought her back,” Willow said, still slightly proud with what she had accomplished.
Fred moved forward, setting her bags beside Cordelia's. “You what?”
“It worked?” Anya titled her head, smiling with pride. She didn’t know they had torn Buffy out of heaven and had led her to her own private hell which Lilah had created. “We did it?”
Cordelia exhaled sharply. “Is that even possible?” The tone of her voice was more baffled than doubtful. But as if to answer her question, Buffy hesitantly walked back inside the Hyperion, with Spike right behind her. Cordelia's mouth hung open as she stared at Buffy.
“If this is Buffy, then I guess it is,” Fred said, eyebrows raised.
“Where's Angel?” Buffy asked suddenly, ignoring all the shock-stricken expressions directed at her.
Tara pointed at the office, and Buffy headed straight for it. She peeked through the window and saw Angel leaning on the desk, eyes downcast. He was deep in thought, and she was scared of what those thoughts could be. She cautiously knocked on the open door, listing in her mind all the things he could possibly say.
Angel looked up and when he saw it was Buffy, blinked at her with surprise for a moment. Looking away, he stood, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.
“Hey,” she said, barely lifting her hand in a wave. It may not be the best word to open with, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. She figured they'd gotten past the whole I'm alive concept. “Can I come in?”
“Uhm, sure,” he said, his eyes glancing anywhere but at her, a hand running through his dark hair.
Buffy entered the room and closed the door behind her, taking one deep breath and gripping the knob for a moment. She spun around to face Angel, wringing her hands in nervousness. She stood still and waited for him to ramble, but he didn't. Instead, he sat back down on the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest. His baffled stare made her more distressed than she already was.
Buffy took a tentative step forward. “They didn't fill you in on my resurrection, huh?” She forced a chuckle to desperately try and lighten the mood. Angel didn't budge, and the troubled expression on his face drew a sigh from her. “I'm sorry you had to see that. But if you knew what that woman--”
“Lilah,” he said vacantly. He was still too bothered by what he'd seen, and Spike's scent all over her didn't help quell the mixed emotions he was feeling. “Her name's Lilah Morgan. She's a lawyer working for Wolfram and Hart.”
She waited for a moment to continue, and she lowered her tone. “If you knew...” She let her voice trail off, realizing there would be no point in reasoning with him right now.
Angel cast her a quick glance. “I know what she's capable of doing,” he said sharply. “I just didn't know what you were capable of.” He kept his inflection even, though he could barely hide the displeasure simmering just beneath the surface of his strained calm expression.
Buffy gazed at him, wide eyed. “Right.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief, composing herself with an effort.
“I'm sorry,” he said abruptly and met her gaze. “I... What did she do?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Well,” she began, inhaling deeply. “The gist of it is she kept me in an underground cave, drugged me everyday, barely fed me, and oh, yeah, had a demon copy of me trying to kill my sister.” She chuckled bitterly. Pausing for a moment, she gulped down her tears before speaking up again. “I know it doesn't justify what I did. But it was something I needed to do or...” She fisted her hands and clenched her jaw tightly against every emotion that tugged at her heart. “I just needed it out of my system,” she said, gazing up into Angel's face and his sympathetic gaze.
Angel fell silent. Lilah was a coward. Willow was, too, for keeping something so important from them. If she had told them what was going on, if he'd been there, he would have found Buffy.
“I'm exhausted.” Buffy broke the silence that filled the office.
“Right,” he said, and stood up. “I'll tell Cordy to give you a room.”
She smiled wanly at him. “Thanks.”
“Buffy?” he said, just as she was about to leave the office. When she spun around to face him, he added, “I'm really glad you're back.”
“I hope this is okay.” Cordelia led Buffy inside the room adjoining Dawn's. Buffy remained silent for the most part, and her friends seemed to respect that. Surprisingly enough, even Cordelia managed to keep her thoughts to herself and Anya managed to refrain from any unnecessary comments.
Carrying Buffy's things, Xander trailed behind the two girls. “Anya and I are just across the hall.”
After he had put her box of things down by the bed, Buffy turned to them, her lips tight in a strained grin. “Thank you.” She held the door open, wordlessly urging them to leave.
Nodding, Xander made his way out of the room.
Cordelia walked after him, but halted in front of Buffy. She turned to face her. “If you need anything...”
Buffy's face softened. “Thanks, Cordy.”
With a small smile on her face, Cordelia left the room.
Finally, she was alone again. Buffy relaxed her shoulders. Drawing in a heavy breath, she closed the door.
She found she didn't like being alone.
Angel sat in his office, trying to distract himself with the papers laid out on top of the desk, when he heard familiar footsteps approaching. It was Spike, who was most likely going to defend his new obsession. He could already catch a whiff of his scent.
Spike was only fooling himself, thinking that what he felt for Buffy could be love, thinking that she might actually love him back.
Vampires could never love, not without a soul.
Sensing that Spike was now standing before his desk, Angel lifted his eyes from the paper he was reading. “What?” he asked peevishly.
With his hands on his hips pulling his coat back, Spike glared at Angel. “You self-righteous son of a bitch.” The muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Let me guess,” Angel said, leaning back on his chair. “You eavesdropped on our conversation.”
“It's not exactly eavesdropping, is it?” Spike snorted. “Not with our vampire hearing.”
“First, eavesdrop better.” Angel stood up, moving to the front of the desk. “Second, it's good that you still know what you are. I thought you'd forgotten.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Spike squinted at him beneath furrowed eyebrows.
Furious eyes boring into Spike, Angel inched forward. “Do you really think she'll ever have feelings for you?”
A pensive stare crossed Spike's face. “No.” He knew Buffy would never love him. He'd already told her that.
Surprised by the finality in Spike's voice, Angel yielded.
A few seconds later, Spike added, smirking, “But it's good to know that you see me as a threat.” He patted Angel on the shoulder and, still wearing an amused grin, walked away.
Spike had a room. His own room. His own place. One that didn’t specifically cater to the dead.
It had been a while since he'd had a place all to himself. Privacy in the Summers’ basement was non-existent.
He was grateful to Angel’s friends for giving him a room, and even more grateful that cute little Fred had put him where he wouldn’t be able to hear Xander and Anya.
He lay on the bed, his eyes set on the ceiling above, when he heard the door creak open.
Buffy locked the door behind her and glanced around the room. “Looks a little bigger than mine.”
“I'm sure it isn't.” Spike heaved himself up on his elbows, worry sweeping over his features.
“I'm kidding.” She giggled softly at his reaction. “You didn't swing by my room. I thought you would have,” she said, her cheeks slightly flushed.
He moved himself to the end of the bed and sat there as she walked up to him. “Figured your friends would be there.”
“They weren't.” She sat down beside him, close enough to inhale the familiar smell of tobacco. “I don't think things will ever be the same between us.” She stared at her hands clasped on her lap.
“You'll get past this,” he tried to assure her.
She smiled doubtfully. “Thanks again, for everything.” Eyes glistening, as if she might burst into tears again, she gazed at him. The strength and power she'd just gotten back went flying out the window. Giving in to her emotions, she delicately brushed her hand against his cheek. He leaned into the palm of her hand, and she stood up.
The glow from the street light filtered through the curtains of the window. Most of the room was hidden in shadows, but he could clearly see her. In the semi-darkness, he watched in silence as she lifted her white tank top off at a painfully slow pace and slid her sweats down until they pooled around her ankles on the carpeted floor. She stepped forward and knelt on the bed, straddling his thigh, now dressed only in her panties. Leaning closer, she rested her hands on his bare chest.
“Buffy, we can't,” he whispered as he tried to pull away from her.
“Shh...” She placed a finger over his lips, silencing protests she would only remain impervious to. “Just kiss me.” Her voice was soft, but so needy and desperate that shivers ran through him. She lowered her face to his, and gently yet hungrily melded her mouth to his in a deep kiss. Her tongue moved slowly, barely grazing the tip of his.
Passion consumed Spike with the sensual caress of her tongue, and all his concerns were forgotten. He groaned into her mouth as his hands roamed her bare back, never resting in one place, taunting her with the tingling sensations his touch left.
Breathing heavily, she pulled away from his mouth.
He blinked at her.
Their mouths crashed together again, and he held her tight against him, pulling her impossibly closer. Her trembling hands linked around his neck greedily as he continued to plunder her mouth with devastating skill. She gasped when he brought his possessive hands over her pert breasts and gave them a slight squeeze. Unable to take it any more, Buffy pushed him down onto the bed and moved to straddle his hips.
Spike could smell her arousal, could feel the crazed pounding of her heart, the damp heat pulsing between her thighs as her hips ground against him of their own volition. Cupping one of her breasts, he flicked her nipple with his thumb as his other hand stroked one slender thigh.
At the surge of sensations that shot through her entire body, Buffy let out a loud moan that ripped through the silence of the room. Still sharing a frenzied kiss, she hastily tore her white underwear off and, reaching between them, she unsnapped the button of Spike's jeans. She undid the zipper, and pushed his pants down until his erect cock sprang free.
Spike's closed eyes shot open when Buffy slid herself onto his erection, a look of pure ecstasy on her face as she began to move her hips in a rhythm. His eyes darted between her face and her bouncing breasts.
Groaning at the sheer pleasure of her wet flesh sheathing his, he jerked his hips up to meet hers. Buffy grunted and bent over him, joining their lips again, her hair draping over his shoulders and chest, her warm, wet body surrounding him.
Buffy's breath came in fast little pants, and he knew she was close. He continued to thrust, harder, deeper, and her nails dug into his chest. She pressed her lips against his throat, sucking on the soft flesh she'd found.
Then he felt her teeth sink into his skin and her body spasm. “Spike,” she hissed, sitting up abruptly and arching her back. Joining her in her orgasm, Spike growled a guttural cry as he spilled his seed into her.
Eyes screwed shut, Buffy panted for breath. She remained unmoving for a few moments, letting her breathing and heartbeat slow slightly. When the long stillness of the room turned awkward, she fluttered her eyes open and looked at him, drowning him with her dark eyes. Red-faced, she lifted herself up, letting him slip out of her. She gathered her clothes on the floor and got dressed.
Spike sat up and watched her, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what this all meant.
Without a word, she walked away. She stopped by the door and turned to him, giving him a small, abashed smile.
In reply, Spike gave her a confused stare.
A frown pulled at the corners of her lips. Eyes lowered, she headed out of the room.
Angel remained where he stood, letting everything sink in, watching as Gunn, Wesley, Xander, Tara and Willow crowded over Lilah, concern on their faces.
He was amazed, ecstatic, that Buffy was here, alive. But seeing her so violent... It was all too much for him to handle at once.
Tara moved to Lilah's aid, and crouched down beside her. Looking up at Willow, she said worriedly, “We need to get her to a hospital.”
“We got her,” Gunn said, lifting Lilah in his arms. They heard laughter outside, and they all turned to the front door. Cordelia, Anya and Fred walked in, each with a couple of shopping bags in their hands.
“We should get going,” Wesley said. Gunn nodded and followed him, carrying Lilah out of the Hyperion.
Cordelia and Fred gaped at Lilah's unconscious form as the three passed by them. Anya only glanced at her with disinterest. All three girls turned to those still in the lobby as soon as Wesley and Gunn were outside.
“What happened?” Cordelia asked, making her way down the steps. No one dared answer. She looked at Angel with an eyebrow raised. “Angel? What's going on?” Angel lifted his head to face her, slid his hands inside the pockets of his pants, and without a single word, went inside the office. She scoffed and set her shopping bags on the floor. “Someone tell me what the hell just happened here,” she demanded, folding her arms over her chest.
“It's Buffy,” Xander said carefully. “She's... We...” He cleared his throat, finding it hard to say what he needed to say.
“We brought her back,” Willow said, still slightly proud with what she had accomplished.
Fred moved forward, setting her bags beside Cordelia's. “You what?”
“It worked?” Anya titled her head, smiling with pride. She didn’t know they had torn Buffy out of heaven and had led her to her own private hell which Lilah had created. “We did it?”
Cordelia exhaled sharply. “Is that even possible?” The tone of her voice was more baffled than doubtful. But as if to answer her question, Buffy hesitantly walked back inside the Hyperion, with Spike right behind her. Cordelia's mouth hung open as she stared at Buffy.
“If this is Buffy, then I guess it is,” Fred said, eyebrows raised.
“Where's Angel?” Buffy asked suddenly, ignoring all the shock-stricken expressions directed at her.
Tara pointed at the office, and Buffy headed straight for it. She peeked through the window and saw Angel leaning on the desk, eyes downcast. He was deep in thought, and she was scared of what those thoughts could be. She cautiously knocked on the open door, listing in her mind all the things he could possibly say.
Angel looked up and when he saw it was Buffy, blinked at her with surprise for a moment. Looking away, he stood, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.
“Hey,” she said, barely lifting her hand in a wave. It may not be the best word to open with, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. She figured they'd gotten past the whole I'm alive concept. “Can I come in?”
“Uhm, sure,” he said, his eyes glancing anywhere but at her, a hand running through his dark hair.
Buffy entered the room and closed the door behind her, taking one deep breath and gripping the knob for a moment. She spun around to face Angel, wringing her hands in nervousness. She stood still and waited for him to ramble, but he didn't. Instead, he sat back down on the edge of the desk, arms crossed over his chest. His baffled stare made her more distressed than she already was.
Buffy took a tentative step forward. “They didn't fill you in on my resurrection, huh?” She forced a chuckle to desperately try and lighten the mood. Angel didn't budge, and the troubled expression on his face drew a sigh from her. “I'm sorry you had to see that. But if you knew what that woman--”
“Lilah,” he said vacantly. He was still too bothered by what he'd seen, and Spike's scent all over her didn't help quell the mixed emotions he was feeling. “Her name's Lilah Morgan. She's a lawyer working for Wolfram and Hart.”
She waited for a moment to continue, and she lowered her tone. “If you knew...” She let her voice trail off, realizing there would be no point in reasoning with him right now.
Angel cast her a quick glance. “I know what she's capable of doing,” he said sharply. “I just didn't know what you were capable of.” He kept his inflection even, though he could barely hide the displeasure simmering just beneath the surface of his strained calm expression.
Buffy gazed at him, wide eyed. “Right.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief, composing herself with an effort.
“I'm sorry,” he said abruptly and met her gaze. “I... What did she do?” he asked, his voice soft.
“Well,” she began, inhaling deeply. “The gist of it is she kept me in an underground cave, drugged me everyday, barely fed me, and oh, yeah, had a demon copy of me trying to kill my sister.” She chuckled bitterly. Pausing for a moment, she gulped down her tears before speaking up again. “I know it doesn't justify what I did. But it was something I needed to do or...” She fisted her hands and clenched her jaw tightly against every emotion that tugged at her heart. “I just needed it out of my system,” she said, gazing up into Angel's face and his sympathetic gaze.
Angel fell silent. Lilah was a coward. Willow was, too, for keeping something so important from them. If she had told them what was going on, if he'd been there, he would have found Buffy.
“I'm exhausted.” Buffy broke the silence that filled the office.
“Right,” he said, and stood up. “I'll tell Cordy to give you a room.”
She smiled wanly at him. “Thanks.”
“Buffy?” he said, just as she was about to leave the office. When she spun around to face him, he added, “I'm really glad you're back.”
“I hope this is okay.” Cordelia led Buffy inside the room adjoining Dawn's. Buffy remained silent for the most part, and her friends seemed to respect that. Surprisingly enough, even Cordelia managed to keep her thoughts to herself and Anya managed to refrain from any unnecessary comments.
Carrying Buffy's things, Xander trailed behind the two girls. “Anya and I are just across the hall.”
After he had put her box of things down by the bed, Buffy turned to them, her lips tight in a strained grin. “Thank you.” She held the door open, wordlessly urging them to leave.
Nodding, Xander made his way out of the room.
Cordelia walked after him, but halted in front of Buffy. She turned to face her. “If you need anything...”
Buffy's face softened. “Thanks, Cordy.”
With a small smile on her face, Cordelia left the room.
Finally, she was alone again. Buffy relaxed her shoulders. Drawing in a heavy breath, she closed the door.
She found she didn't like being alone.
Angel sat in his office, trying to distract himself with the papers laid out on top of the desk, when he heard familiar footsteps approaching. It was Spike, who was most likely going to defend his new obsession. He could already catch a whiff of his scent.
Spike was only fooling himself, thinking that what he felt for Buffy could be love, thinking that she might actually love him back.
Vampires could never love, not without a soul.
Sensing that Spike was now standing before his desk, Angel lifted his eyes from the paper he was reading. “What?” he asked peevishly.
With his hands on his hips pulling his coat back, Spike glared at Angel. “You self-righteous son of a bitch.” The muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Let me guess,” Angel said, leaning back on his chair. “You eavesdropped on our conversation.”
“It's not exactly eavesdropping, is it?” Spike snorted. “Not with our vampire hearing.”
“First, eavesdrop better.” Angel stood up, moving to the front of the desk. “Second, it's good that you still know what you are. I thought you'd forgotten.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Spike squinted at him beneath furrowed eyebrows.
Furious eyes boring into Spike, Angel inched forward. “Do you really think she'll ever have feelings for you?”
A pensive stare crossed Spike's face. “No.” He knew Buffy would never love him. He'd already told her that.
Surprised by the finality in Spike's voice, Angel yielded.
A few seconds later, Spike added, smirking, “But it's good to know that you see me as a threat.” He patted Angel on the shoulder and, still wearing an amused grin, walked away.
Spike had a room. His own room. His own place. One that didn’t specifically cater to the dead.
It had been a while since he'd had a place all to himself. Privacy in the Summers’ basement was non-existent.
He was grateful to Angel’s friends for giving him a room, and even more grateful that cute little Fred had put him where he wouldn’t be able to hear Xander and Anya.
He lay on the bed, his eyes set on the ceiling above, when he heard the door creak open.
Buffy locked the door behind her and glanced around the room. “Looks a little bigger than mine.”
“I'm sure it isn't.” Spike heaved himself up on his elbows, worry sweeping over his features.
“I'm kidding.” She giggled softly at his reaction. “You didn't swing by my room. I thought you would have,” she said, her cheeks slightly flushed.
He moved himself to the end of the bed and sat there as she walked up to him. “Figured your friends would be there.”
“They weren't.” She sat down beside him, close enough to inhale the familiar smell of tobacco. “I don't think things will ever be the same between us.” She stared at her hands clasped on her lap.
“You'll get past this,” he tried to assure her.
She smiled doubtfully. “Thanks again, for everything.” Eyes glistening, as if she might burst into tears again, she gazed at him. The strength and power she'd just gotten back went flying out the window. Giving in to her emotions, she delicately brushed her hand against his cheek. He leaned into the palm of her hand, and she stood up.
The glow from the street light filtered through the curtains of the window. Most of the room was hidden in shadows, but he could clearly see her. In the semi-darkness, he watched in silence as she lifted her white tank top off at a painfully slow pace and slid her sweats down until they pooled around her ankles on the carpeted floor. She stepped forward and knelt on the bed, straddling his thigh, now dressed only in her panties. Leaning closer, she rested her hands on his bare chest.
“Buffy, we can't,” he whispered as he tried to pull away from her.
“Shh...” She placed a finger over his lips, silencing protests she would only remain impervious to. “Just kiss me.” Her voice was soft, but so needy and desperate that shivers ran through him. She lowered her face to his, and gently yet hungrily melded her mouth to his in a deep kiss. Her tongue moved slowly, barely grazing the tip of his.
Passion consumed Spike with the sensual caress of her tongue, and all his concerns were forgotten. He groaned into her mouth as his hands roamed her bare back, never resting in one place, taunting her with the tingling sensations his touch left.
Breathing heavily, she pulled away from his mouth.
He blinked at her.
Their mouths crashed together again, and he held her tight against him, pulling her impossibly closer. Her trembling hands linked around his neck greedily as he continued to plunder her mouth with devastating skill. She gasped when he brought his possessive hands over her pert breasts and gave them a slight squeeze. Unable to take it any more, Buffy pushed him down onto the bed and moved to straddle his hips.
Spike could smell her arousal, could feel the crazed pounding of her heart, the damp heat pulsing between her thighs as her hips ground against him of their own volition. Cupping one of her breasts, he flicked her nipple with his thumb as his other hand stroked one slender thigh.
At the surge of sensations that shot through her entire body, Buffy let out a loud moan that ripped through the silence of the room. Still sharing a frenzied kiss, she hastily tore her white underwear off and, reaching between them, she unsnapped the button of Spike's jeans. She undid the zipper, and pushed his pants down until his erect cock sprang free.
Spike's closed eyes shot open when Buffy slid herself onto his erection, a look of pure ecstasy on her face as she began to move her hips in a rhythm. His eyes darted between her face and her bouncing breasts.
Groaning at the sheer pleasure of her wet flesh sheathing his, he jerked his hips up to meet hers. Buffy grunted and bent over him, joining their lips again, her hair draping over his shoulders and chest, her warm, wet body surrounding him.
Buffy's breath came in fast little pants, and he knew she was close. He continued to thrust, harder, deeper, and her nails dug into his chest. She pressed her lips against his throat, sucking on the soft flesh she'd found.
Then he felt her teeth sink into his skin and her body spasm. “Spike,” she hissed, sitting up abruptly and arching her back. Joining her in her orgasm, Spike growled a guttural cry as he spilled his seed into her.
Eyes screwed shut, Buffy panted for breath. She remained unmoving for a few moments, letting her breathing and heartbeat slow slightly. When the long stillness of the room turned awkward, she fluttered her eyes open and looked at him, drowning him with her dark eyes. Red-faced, she lifted herself up, letting him slip out of her. She gathered her clothes on the floor and got dressed.
Spike sat up and watched her, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what this all meant.
Without a word, she walked away. She stopped by the door and turned to him, giving him a small, abashed smile.
In reply, Spike gave her a confused stare.
A frown pulled at the corners of her lips. Eyes lowered, she headed out of the room.
Chapter 23
As quietly and as quickly as she could, Buffy made her way back to her room, hoping that no one would see her leaving Spike's room at this late hour.
Not that she cared what anyone thought of her right now, or that she really thought it would matter to them after what they'd all seen her do to Lilah. She just didn't want her friends to know about them yet, not when she didn't know exactly what they were or what it all meant.
As she turned the corner, she ran into a solid wall of a man. “Oomph,” she said, stumbling backwards and letting out a small gasp.
“Angel.”
“Good, you're still awake. I was just on my way to find you,” Angel said eagerly. “I've made a few calls a-and,” he stuttered and the smile on his face fell when he smelled the familiar scent. He held his pensive gaze as she averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed, from his pain-ridden face. “Please tell me you didn’t just come from Spike’s room,” he said. His mind was still slightly reeling from the events earlier that evening, and now he had to deal with this.
“Y-you made a few calls and?” Buffy tried to change the topic back, forcing her voice to sound impatient. She didn't want to talk about Spike or what they’d just had. Not right now, and especially not with Angel.
“Right.” Angel shook his head, realizing the information he has was more important. “I, uh, talked to a few of my sources from the demon world and some of them knew the demon Lilah hired and what they were up to.”
“That's great,” she said, less interestedly than Angel expected her to be. She didn't really care why Lilah did what she did. All she cared about was that she got her revenge. “What did they say?”
“Wolfram and Hart had already paid the Rakshasa to help them eradicate the Slayer line for good even before Lilah captured you.”
Buffy perked up. “They can do that? Stop Slayers from being called?”
“Apparently, they can. Or rather, a Slayer can. With the right black magics.”
“Wow.”
“I know. They were supposed to use Faith's blood, because she's in prison and wouldn't know about what was going on. But then they received information from one of their soothsayers that you were going to be resurrected, and they couldn't have you ruining their plan.” He paused. “That's why Lilah was there, right at the moment you got out of your grave, because they already knew what was going to happen.”
“And they had to keep me alive because they needed my flesh and blood to keep the charade up and for the plan to work,” Buffy said bitterly.
“Yeah.” Angel nodded. “That's about it.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I thought it would give you closure,” he said, and Buffy gave him a faint smile. “So, back to Spike...”
Buffy frowned, crossing her arms over her chest to cover herself over the flimsy fabric of her tank top. “Angel--”
“I just want to know,” he said, cutting through the silent hall and Buffy's explanation before she could even start it, “where he fits in the things you need to do.” He spoke uneasily, a trace of nervous apprehension in his voice. “For closure.”
A small smile lingered at the corner of Buffy's lips. “The vampire smelling thing? A bit disgusting,” she said as an attempt to change the topic.
Keeping his stare on her, Angel urged her to answer.
Buffy sighed and in all seriousness answered, “I honestly don't know.”
“Do you love him?”
“No,” she hurriedly said. She inhaled deeply and clasped her hands in front of her. “Not yet.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but he heard her clearly. “But I do trust him. He's earned that.”
Angel stood silently.
“I know none of you would approve if I do decide to...” she said quietly. Dropping her arms to her sides and lifting her chin up defiantly, she raised her voice. “But frankly? I really don't care. This is my life. My second chance. Whether I wanted it or not. And what I choose to do with it is my business, not anyone else's.”
“You're right. I understand,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You should get some rest.”
With a nod, Buffy spun on her heel walked away. With another weight lifted off her chest, she could sleep a bit better tonight.
Willow peeked through the bedroom window, watching as the glowing sun rose slowly into the gray morning sky. She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.
It was another day that she would have to face Buffy. Another day that she would have to hide the guilt she felt for bringing her out of heaven and right to Lilah, guilt for still feeling proud of what her powers could accomplish.
There was a knock on the door, and she hurriedly wiped her tears away.
“Hey, I can't seem to find my...” Buffy let her voice trail off when she saw Willow's tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Willow said, a single sniffle betraying her words. “What were you looking for?”
“Will,” Buffy said, eyes narrowed at her friend as she walked farther into the room.
Shaking her head, Willow cleared her throat. “You feeling a bit better today?”
“Well, I got to beat up somebody yesterday,” Buffy said in jest. When she saw Willow's frown deepen, she turned serious. “Plus, Angel and I got to talk last night. We sorted things out a bit.” She moved forward and sat on the edge of the bed.
“That's good.”
“Okay. It's your turn to tell me what's up.”
Willow smiled sadly and sat beside her. Staring at her hands, she asked, “Were you happy in heaven?”
“Oh,” Buffy said, caught off guard. She had not expected such a confrontation this soon. But if they were to move forward, they should at least set things straight. Fixing her eyes on the carpet, she spoke up honestly, “I was.”
Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, Willow asked, her voice breaking, “And I took that away from you?”
Buffy brought her eyes to Willow's glistening ones. Sighing, she took Willow's hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “Will, I'm okay.”
“I know you will be. You're one of the strongest people I know. But...” Willow's lips quivered. “Are we okay?”
“We’ll deal,” Buffy answered. Heaving herself up, she gave Willow a reassuring smile. “Now, let's go grab some breakfast.”
Buffy was glad that she and her friends had finally had a chance to talk that morning, though they avoided the topic of her resurrection and no one mentioned Lilah. Everything was approaching as normal as could be expected. She knew to some extent that things would never be the way they had been before she’d died. Nonetheless, she was glad that after talking with Xander, too, he and Willow could finally look at her without guilt written all over their faces.
Through the glass front doors of the Hyperion, she could see that the two vampires were already awake.
“This is my blood. Go buy your own.” Angel snatched the bottle of blood from Spike's hands and, slightly hugging it possessively, placed the bottle on the desk in front of Cordelia. “And stop taking or touching my things.”
“A tad bit sensitive, aren't you?” Leaning his elbows on the counter, Spike picked up an odd-looking paperweight. The ponce sure had an unusual taste in furniture and knick-knacks.
Clearly annoyed, Cordelia said, “Hang on for a second, please,” to the potential client on the phone and glared at the two. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Guys, can you keep it down?”
“Sorry.” Angel turned back to Spike. “I just don't want you,” he took the orb they had procured from a previous job away from Spike, “touching my stuff.” He placed it back on top of the papers on the counter, and Spike grimaced.
Spike moved to the big round sofa, and as he slumped on it, said, “I don't suppose you're talking about--”
“Buffy, hey,” Angel said as Buffy entered through the front doors.
“Hey.” Buffy turned to Spike and gave him a smile.
Spike returned her smile with a flat one, and Buffy frowned. He stood up and was about to head upstairs.
“Spike.” Buffy made her way across the lobby. “Can we talk?”
Angel remained where he stood and crossed his arms, his eyes full of eager curiosity. When Buffy faced him and glared, he huffed. “Fine. I'll be in the office.” Slumping his shoulders, he said, “Where I can still hear you.”
With a deep breath, Buffy turned to Spike. She took him by the arm and led him upstairs to her room where they could have some privacy. Locking the door behind her, she turned to Spike. “About what happened last night...”
“It's all right, I get it. It was a bit of cold comfort.” He waved his hand in dismissal but the tone of his voice was fishing for her to say he was wrong. He sighed. “You don't have to explain.”
“Spike...”
“And you don't have to worry. I should be off tonight.”
Buffy's face fell. “What? But... You can't leave.”
“You and your friends have made up and you have enough demon fighters here,” he said, shrugging. “I don't see why I should stay.”
“You should stay because I want you to.” Buffy walked towards him and cupped his cheek with her hand. “I need you here, Spike. I need you with me.”
His face lit up. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“And last night?”
“I'm sorry,” she said, dropping her arm at her side. “What I did... I know it wasn't fair to you.” She sighed, and he looked away.
Afraid that she was going to stop things before they even started, he snorted, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I wanted it too, didn't I?”
“I know. I know... But I was wrong. I mean, I sort of just jumped on you,” she said with a faint, embarrassed laugh.
“That, you did.”
“B-but I'm not saying there's nothing there. Don't get me wrong, that's not what I'm saying at all.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I'm saying... there is.” He lifted his hopeful eyes to hers, and she smiled. “So... we'll take it one step at a time and see where it – whatever this is – goes. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. It's more than...” He grinned. “Yeah.”
Buffy exhaled deeply in relief and, still smiling, took Spike's hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go bug Angel.”
Spike followed Buffy out the door with a huge smile on his face. “Just so you know, I wasn't actually planning on leaving,” he said.
Buffy chuckled. “Oh, I know.”
THE END
Not that she cared what anyone thought of her right now, or that she really thought it would matter to them after what they'd all seen her do to Lilah. She just didn't want her friends to know about them yet, not when she didn't know exactly what they were or what it all meant.
As she turned the corner, she ran into a solid wall of a man. “Oomph,” she said, stumbling backwards and letting out a small gasp.
“Angel.”
“Good, you're still awake. I was just on my way to find you,” Angel said eagerly. “I've made a few calls a-and,” he stuttered and the smile on his face fell when he smelled the familiar scent. He held his pensive gaze as she averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed, from his pain-ridden face. “Please tell me you didn’t just come from Spike’s room,” he said. His mind was still slightly reeling from the events earlier that evening, and now he had to deal with this.
“Y-you made a few calls and?” Buffy tried to change the topic back, forcing her voice to sound impatient. She didn't want to talk about Spike or what they’d just had. Not right now, and especially not with Angel.
“Right.” Angel shook his head, realizing the information he has was more important. “I, uh, talked to a few of my sources from the demon world and some of them knew the demon Lilah hired and what they were up to.”
“That's great,” she said, less interestedly than Angel expected her to be. She didn't really care why Lilah did what she did. All she cared about was that she got her revenge. “What did they say?”
“Wolfram and Hart had already paid the Rakshasa to help them eradicate the Slayer line for good even before Lilah captured you.”
Buffy perked up. “They can do that? Stop Slayers from being called?”
“Apparently, they can. Or rather, a Slayer can. With the right black magics.”
“Wow.”
“I know. They were supposed to use Faith's blood, because she's in prison and wouldn't know about what was going on. But then they received information from one of their soothsayers that you were going to be resurrected, and they couldn't have you ruining their plan.” He paused. “That's why Lilah was there, right at the moment you got out of your grave, because they already knew what was going to happen.”
“And they had to keep me alive because they needed my flesh and blood to keep the charade up and for the plan to work,” Buffy said bitterly.
“Yeah.” Angel nodded. “That's about it.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I thought it would give you closure,” he said, and Buffy gave him a faint smile. “So, back to Spike...”
Buffy frowned, crossing her arms over her chest to cover herself over the flimsy fabric of her tank top. “Angel--”
“I just want to know,” he said, cutting through the silent hall and Buffy's explanation before she could even start it, “where he fits in the things you need to do.” He spoke uneasily, a trace of nervous apprehension in his voice. “For closure.”
A small smile lingered at the corner of Buffy's lips. “The vampire smelling thing? A bit disgusting,” she said as an attempt to change the topic.
Keeping his stare on her, Angel urged her to answer.
Buffy sighed and in all seriousness answered, “I honestly don't know.”
“Do you love him?”
“No,” she hurriedly said. She inhaled deeply and clasped her hands in front of her. “Not yet.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but he heard her clearly. “But I do trust him. He's earned that.”
Angel stood silently.
“I know none of you would approve if I do decide to...” she said quietly. Dropping her arms to her sides and lifting her chin up defiantly, she raised her voice. “But frankly? I really don't care. This is my life. My second chance. Whether I wanted it or not. And what I choose to do with it is my business, not anyone else's.”
“You're right. I understand,” he said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You should get some rest.”
With a nod, Buffy spun on her heel walked away. With another weight lifted off her chest, she could sleep a bit better tonight.
Willow peeked through the bedroom window, watching as the glowing sun rose slowly into the gray morning sky. She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself.
It was another day that she would have to face Buffy. Another day that she would have to hide the guilt she felt for bringing her out of heaven and right to Lilah, guilt for still feeling proud of what her powers could accomplish.
There was a knock on the door, and she hurriedly wiped her tears away.
“Hey, I can't seem to find my...” Buffy let her voice trail off when she saw Willow's tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Willow said, a single sniffle betraying her words. “What were you looking for?”
“Will,” Buffy said, eyes narrowed at her friend as she walked farther into the room.
Shaking her head, Willow cleared her throat. “You feeling a bit better today?”
“Well, I got to beat up somebody yesterday,” Buffy said in jest. When she saw Willow's frown deepen, she turned serious. “Plus, Angel and I got to talk last night. We sorted things out a bit.” She moved forward and sat on the edge of the bed.
“That's good.”
“Okay. It's your turn to tell me what's up.”
Willow smiled sadly and sat beside her. Staring at her hands, she asked, “Were you happy in heaven?”
“Oh,” Buffy said, caught off guard. She had not expected such a confrontation this soon. But if they were to move forward, they should at least set things straight. Fixing her eyes on the carpet, she spoke up honestly, “I was.”
Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, Willow asked, her voice breaking, “And I took that away from you?”
Buffy brought her eyes to Willow's glistening ones. Sighing, she took Willow's hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “Will, I'm okay.”
“I know you will be. You're one of the strongest people I know. But...” Willow's lips quivered. “Are we okay?”
“We’ll deal,” Buffy answered. Heaving herself up, she gave Willow a reassuring smile. “Now, let's go grab some breakfast.”
Buffy was glad that she and her friends had finally had a chance to talk that morning, though they avoided the topic of her resurrection and no one mentioned Lilah. Everything was approaching as normal as could be expected. She knew to some extent that things would never be the way they had been before she’d died. Nonetheless, she was glad that after talking with Xander, too, he and Willow could finally look at her without guilt written all over their faces.
Through the glass front doors of the Hyperion, she could see that the two vampires were already awake.
“This is my blood. Go buy your own.” Angel snatched the bottle of blood from Spike's hands and, slightly hugging it possessively, placed the bottle on the desk in front of Cordelia. “And stop taking or touching my things.”
“A tad bit sensitive, aren't you?” Leaning his elbows on the counter, Spike picked up an odd-looking paperweight. The ponce sure had an unusual taste in furniture and knick-knacks.
Clearly annoyed, Cordelia said, “Hang on for a second, please,” to the potential client on the phone and glared at the two. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Guys, can you keep it down?”
“Sorry.” Angel turned back to Spike. “I just don't want you,” he took the orb they had procured from a previous job away from Spike, “touching my stuff.” He placed it back on top of the papers on the counter, and Spike grimaced.
Spike moved to the big round sofa, and as he slumped on it, said, “I don't suppose you're talking about--”
“Buffy, hey,” Angel said as Buffy entered through the front doors.
“Hey.” Buffy turned to Spike and gave him a smile.
Spike returned her smile with a flat one, and Buffy frowned. He stood up and was about to head upstairs.
“Spike.” Buffy made her way across the lobby. “Can we talk?”
Angel remained where he stood and crossed his arms, his eyes full of eager curiosity. When Buffy faced him and glared, he huffed. “Fine. I'll be in the office.” Slumping his shoulders, he said, “Where I can still hear you.”
With a deep breath, Buffy turned to Spike. She took him by the arm and led him upstairs to her room where they could have some privacy. Locking the door behind her, she turned to Spike. “About what happened last night...”
“It's all right, I get it. It was a bit of cold comfort.” He waved his hand in dismissal but the tone of his voice was fishing for her to say he was wrong. He sighed. “You don't have to explain.”
“Spike...”
“And you don't have to worry. I should be off tonight.”
Buffy's face fell. “What? But... You can't leave.”
“You and your friends have made up and you have enough demon fighters here,” he said, shrugging. “I don't see why I should stay.”
“You should stay because I want you to.” Buffy walked towards him and cupped his cheek with her hand. “I need you here, Spike. I need you with me.”
His face lit up. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“And last night?”
“I'm sorry,” she said, dropping her arm at her side. “What I did... I know it wasn't fair to you.” She sighed, and he looked away.
Afraid that she was going to stop things before they even started, he snorted, keeping his gaze on the floor. “I wanted it too, didn't I?”
“I know. I know... But I was wrong. I mean, I sort of just jumped on you,” she said with a faint, embarrassed laugh.
“That, you did.”
“B-but I'm not saying there's nothing there. Don't get me wrong, that's not what I'm saying at all.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I'm saying... there is.” He lifted his hopeful eyes to hers, and she smiled. “So... we'll take it one step at a time and see where it – whatever this is – goes. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. It's more than...” He grinned. “Yeah.”
Buffy exhaled deeply in relief and, still smiling, took Spike's hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go bug Angel.”
Spike followed Buffy out the door with a huge smile on his face. “Just so you know, I wasn't actually planning on leaving,” he said.
Buffy chuckled. “Oh, I know.”
If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17.
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I am in no way making any profit from this site. This is for pure entertainment purposes only.
Concept: (c)bringonthebloodshed.com (2004), Code & Design: (c)Diabola (2006), Graphics: Selene & Always