Author's note: I'm starting my first year at college on Wednesday... in a different country. Let's hope the flat I'll be living at will have internet that works! Thank you Dawn and Mabel for your suggestions and comments! And thank you readers for being so great!!! :)




Banner by nmcil. :)



Chapter 15


Spike stirred, the hard ground under his body making him ache from his toes to the tips of his bleached hair. He blinked his eyes open, propped up his arms and heaved himself into a standing position. He cringed at the soreness of his muscles. There was no telling how long he'd been lying there and the thought of being at the mercy of whatever came along didn't sit well with Spike.


He unsheathed the dagger from its place behind his belt, turning to glance warily around. He didn't know what to expect, though he'd had a blurry idea of what this inter-dimensional trip might entail. When he read that the temporarily created dimension would be a reflection of Buffy's mind, Spike had expected to find himself in the middle of the swarm made by her memories.


There was nothing. No whisper of a breeze, no twitter of birds or buzzing of insects that made up the background noise back in his dimension. People often talked about how silent it was at night, but it wasn't. Million of sounds pilfered the air even at the most quiet place, the sound of life.


Here, everything was dead. The dry ground beneath his feet cracked from the lack of water, reminding him of a savanna that had never experienced the rain. The bare twisted tree limbs and trunks that loomed so eerily still were stark white, a glaring contrast to the darkness surrounding him. The land stretched out for miles with no end in sight.


Spike took a step forward, the dagger gripped tightly in his hand. How was he supposed to help Buffy when there was nothing here? Could it be that he'd missed an ingredient or buggered up the chanting? He frowned as he walked, extending his senses as far as he could. Nothing but choking silence oozed all around him and Spike decided to let out a yell, if only to pierce it for a moment.


'Nothing better to do anyway.'


Spike opened his mouth and let out a roar. Except... no sound came out. He furrowed his brow in confusion, and then caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned on his heel and squinted into the darkness. A shadow disappeared behind a nearby tree, and as realization slammed into Spike, he scoffed in annoyance.


This was all the hijacker's idea of fun and frolic; he had no doubt about that. The cheeky bugger was trying to exploit Buffy's memories, impressions, and the dark corners of her being to confuse him. He chose the wrong vampire to play this bloody hide-and-seek with.


Spike marched towards the tree, ready to tear the hijacker to shreds, but before he could reach his destination, a crunching noise gave him pause.



Mirrors appeared.


Hundreds of irregular pieces bigger than him were sticking out of the ground for as far as he could see. Spike forgot all about the shadow as he regarded his surroundings warily. He walked to the nearest one. In a blink of an eye, the mirrors' glass moved. They were no longer empty, instead reflecting slithering hazy motions and colours to form what Spike guessed were Buffy's memories. The sleek surface rippled as Spike stared at it, hypnotizing him to touch it, daring him to drown in its secrets. Spike caressed the cold face of the mirror with the tips of his fingers and shivered. It felt like sticking one's hand into water.


Spike turned his head just in time to see one of the mirrors flash brightly as the hijacker jumped into it. Spike tucked the dagger into his boot and hurled himself straight after the demon.


*****


A flash of light, a flurry of flailing limbs, the bone wrenching thud of a body meeting the ground in a harsh impact were the only impressions that entered his brain. Then came the pain.


Spike grunted and spit out the blood, glad that none of his teeth accompanied it. He laid face down for a few seconds-- aware that the grass beneath him had cushioned his crash-- and forced himself to suck up the pain from the injuries he'd sustained by throwing himself recklessly through the portal without preparing himself for the fall. With the speed and ardor he'd used when crossing through the watery glass, it was something of a miracle he didn't break anything. Well, except biting his tongue.


'Well, that went rather well.' Spike thought sarcastically, gathered his bearings and promptly froze.


He yelped and leapt to his feet when it first registered with him that he was standing amidst a park in the middle of an afternoon, just waiting to become a vampire flambé. Spike threw his arms over his head out of reflex and was ready to dash to the nearest shadow when he realized something. He wasn't burning. He laughed out in relief.


'Well, of course you're not burning, you git. The sun's not real, is it?'


By making a fool out of himself, he'd done nothing but give the hijacker even more of a head-start to escape, therefore prolonged his trip in this God forsaken place. Spike was well aware the quicker he managed to nail the demon, the bigger the chance was that both he and Buffy would come out of this experience unscathed. Tampering with magic like that could very well get his noggin bashed in, metaphorically or literally. Magic-- no matter the source or intention-- always had consequences. Always.


The bright light blinded Spike's sensitive eyes and he had to blink several times in order to focus on the place he had stumbled into. He peered around him, fully aware there was little chance the hijacker would be just standing around, waiting. He snorted.


'Like it would be that easy.'


This world, a memory, was --for the lack of a better word-- cheerful. Birds singing, leaves swaying in the gentle breeze of spring, children and their parents running around the park. It made him queasy and quite suspicious of what he'd find here.


A particular voice carried to him, his whole body tensing in response. It was Buffy's voice and Buffy's laugh. He followed the sound, letting it tug him forward to the place he wanted to be the most, seducing him into abandoning the pursuit of the hijacker in order to glimpse her.


There she was. Spike stood there, watching her as she swung back and forth on the swings, talking animatedly to a girl next to her. She couldn't be older than fifteen. She was so young. So innocent. So very different from the girl he'd held close and comforted when the nightmares were too much to bear, whose tears soaked the fabric of his t-shirt too many times. Spike could never have imagined seeing Buffy like this, before all of her dreams were squashed into a fine powder in order to become a slave to the destiny, which consequentially led her to a path that destroyed all every creature held dear.


Freedom.


Choice.


Spike's heart constricted in his chest as he drank her in. He'd never heard her giggle, never witnessed how it lit up her whole face, making her cheeks flush with life and happiness. This girl was still blissfully ignorant of what would come. He experienced a sharp pang when he realized that he could never give this back to her, to take over the burden she carried with her every day since she'd been Called. But he'd damn well try to give her back one thing at least. The laughter. He'd do anything in his power to see that expression on her face again.


The wind suddenly picked up in speed and Spike's duster flared behind him. The skies darkened in a matter of a few seconds, tumbling clouds shut out the sun, but Buffy and her friend didn't notice. This wasn't what was supposed to happen in this particular memory of hers. That much was clear. Spike had no time to think when he caught a sight of the hijacker, his empty eye sockets and gaunt skeletal face barely covered by rotting flesh, propelling Spike to reach for the dagger, then ran forward.


Panic suffused him and made the adrenaline pump through him when he saw the hijacker slide towards the unsuspecting memory-Buffy. It didn't matter that she might be nothing but a mirage with the purpose of confusing him. Nothing mattered but the slithering form of the hijacker getting near her and reaching out his hands to destroy the one happy memory his slayer still held dear. He could not let that happen.


“No!” Spike roared and threw himself at Buffy, intent on tackling her to the ground before the demon could harm her. His eyes widened when instead of encountering her flesh, he flew through her, the blast of cold still air hitting his face as he fell face down to the ground for the second time this day, the dagger slipping from his loose grasp. He raised his head to find that he was once again in the land of mirrors and the hijacker was running into yet another portal to escape him.


“Bloody buggering hell.” Spike muttered and sprang back up, racing towards another rippled surface, the dagger lying forgotten on the dried ground.


******


The surroundings abruptly changed, throwing him out of whack and Spike stumbled, barely managing to stay on his feet after the momentum of being flung out of the portal almost sent him flying into the pavement again. He found himself standing between two shabby buildings in a city in the middle of the night, distant sound of the traffic and acrid smell of someone's piss assaulting his senses. Spike grimaced and glanced around.


The shadow of a disappearing figure caught his attention and he stalked after it, rounding the corner of the building, intent on not losing the sight of the demon this time. Spike reached into his duster to draw out his weapon, the only thing capable of destroying his foe, but there was nothing and the reality of his situation slammed into him with such force that Spike faltered in his step.


'I've lost it', he thought, dismayed, unable to comprehend how such a fundamental thing could happen to him now when he had Buffy's life in his hands. He had promised her.


How could have he been so stupid and throw away his only chance at saving Buffy by being so reckless? He had to find his way back to the dead place with mirrors. There had to be a rift somewhere, a place where he could cross over and right the wrong. He couldn't afford to be looking for the hijacker without any means of killing him. Either he found a way out, or he would wait for the opportunity to present itself.


A trash can crashed against the wall somewhere in the distance, rattling noisily with impact and Spike strode towards it. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks, made him shiver as arousal so strong it made him gasp crashed over him. He'd never seen something so painfully captivating, the fiery beauty of the violence and grace at its highest peak. Every slayer he'd ever met? They had nothing on Buffy.


She was the poetry in motion. Deadly. Bloody sexy.


This was a pure and unrestrained predator in its full element, lashing fists, high and powerful kicks, blonde hair reflecting the moonlight as it whirled around her flushed face. Spike stepped closer, hypnotized by the power rivaling his own. Hundreds of fantasies flashed through his mind as he saw Buffy play with the fledgling, quipping and taunting him. What wouldn't he give to be the one to have the honor of fighting her? Not to the death;. just testing each other. Driving themselves to the best of their abilities, the rush of the fight pumping through them both, getting higher and higher until there was no other option but to let the tension burst out in the fury of passion and tangled limbs. He could almost taste her on his tongue, sweet and addictive.


Spike felt a rush of sensation slither through him and realized that not only could he see and hear Buffy, but he could feel everything she did as if they were his own emotions. He could feel the rush. The excitement. The repressed hunger so deep and primal that it couldn't be mistaken for anything else but the desire to hunt, to kill.


“What does a girl have to do to have a decent conversation with the undead?” Buffy said through her heavy breathing, her eyes glittering as she circled the poor vampire, twirling a stake in her hand. The undead in question just stared at her, his brows furrowed in confusion and Spike grinned when Buffy rolled her eyes.


The vampire growled and lashed out at Buffy. “I'm gonna kill you, Slayer!”


“You know, if I had a dollar for every time I've heard that, I'd have a ton of new shoes right now.”


Spike could feel Buffy's annoyance as she ducked to the side, punching him in the nose three times in rapid succession. The vamp tried to sucker-punch her. Buffy dropped to the ground to evade the blow and kicked him hard into his stomach, the blow sending him flying into the wall behind Spike. The fledgling tumbled to the ground in a pitiful heap.


She strode towards the fallen prey and lifted him up into the air, the vampire's legs dangling uselessly before Buffy plunged the stake into his chest and the dust fluttered to the concrete. She was standing a few inches from Spike now, her chest heaving, eyes gleaming with inner fire that couldn't be quenched. He couldn't help but gaze at her, completely entranced.


The kiss they'd shared came back to him, the quivering flesh of Buffy's lips against his, the desperate grip she'd had on him, her tongue caressing his, the passion so great it threatened to devour him. He knew she had been trying to obliterate the pain she felt, but the greedy fire, the need he'd felt under the surface of her desperation told him that was the part of Buffy he'd just witnessed. The part of her that was wild and ardent, and he'd help her to get it back. She was the girl, the slayer, the victim. All of it rolled into one perfect being.


His.


The fight was over, but Spike could tell she didn't feel satisfied. She itched with need she couldn't fully comprehend yet. Buffy stood there, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily as she struggled to lock the sensations in her away. He could handle his own arousal, but combined with hers, he was powerless against the tightness coiling in his abdomen. The tingles ran up the back of his neck.


She stood up and turned to leave, Spike hot on her heels. Maybe she would lead him to a place where he could get back to retrieve the dagger. As far as plans went, he thought this one was pretty reasonable, especially for him. This was not just his life at stake and he couldn't afford to be even more reckless than usual.


His eyes followed the enticing sway of Buffy's hips, and he didn't immediately notice the imminent danger.


Something shrieked and Spike's eyes shot wide open when he noticed the hijacker flying at Buffy from behind a corner of a rundown building. He wasted no time in rushing directly at the demon, his body smacking into the hijacker's and they rolled around the ground, the surroundings changing as the demon manipulated them to his liking. Spike cursed the fact that he didn't have the knife to end this here and now.


The demon ended up at the top of him, skeletal fingers grasping his head as he leaned in and gazed deeply into Spike's eyes. It felt like the empty sockets contained a bottomless void he couldn't avoid falling into. He struggled, but the harder he tried, the deeper he fell into the demon's influence. Then there was darkness.


******


Spike awoke and felt wrong somehow. Like his skin was too tight, too small for him. He sat up with a grunt of effort and long hair brushed against his naked shoulders and back.


'Wait. Long hair? That can't be right.'


He looked down at himself and resisted the urge to gape. His hands were too small, feminine. His hips were wider and he had breasts. He certainly lacked the parts that made him male. There was another presence with him and the feeling of being connected to another being. He was in Buffy's body.


The whole notion was insane, but nonetheless true. Spike could feel the connection to her as strongly as if he were gazing into her eyes right now, except the outside world didn't disappear. He took in the bare stone walls, his shackled wrists and ankles, every single tremor of Buffy's heart and her helpless fear. The realization dawned on him and Spike had to suppress his heaving stomach.


Somehow, the hijacker had forced him into Buffy's body. She was the prisoner and if he didn't find a way out, he'd experience everything she had. Spike didn't know how it worked; if he would be stuck in a loop of this particular memory and just fade away when Buffy's true self, her physical body back in the hotel room died, or his own disintegrated into dust.


Maybe it wouldn't matter and he'd be stuck here forever, his mind experiencing the abuse over and over again. The rape. Spike shivered, his own feelings merged with those of the memory-Buffy.


The door creaked open and a leering man swaggered in. Another one Spike recognized as Lukas following him. Spike had to fight Buffy's terror and ceaseless mantra of 'Please no!' to at least try to think. He had to fight, had to find a way out of this but his mind didn't work, and he felt Buffy's limbs shake, her heart palpitating so hard he felt sick.


“P-please don't! Please!” Buffy's lips moved and Spike realized he had no control over her body. He had no choice but to sit there, within her mind, and feel what she felt. It made him want to vomit.


Both men just laughed and Lukas came closer, unlocking Buffy's chains from the wall behind and yanking her upward.


“Tie her hands in front of her,” the other man said and licked his lips.


Spike tried to struggle, but he merely made Buffy's fingers twitch in response.


“Are you sure you don't want me to tie them behind her back? Not that she'd try anything, she's drugged,” Lukas said and shrugged.


“Can't use them like that, can she?” They both laughed and hot tears slid down Buffy's cheek, repressed sobs making her breath hitch in her throat. Spike started to panic, the full implications of the mess he was in finally hitting him. Lukas left and Spike watched the man shove down his trousers, tugging Buffy forward by the chain.


“Suck it!”


Buffy struggled and pleaded, but the man just laughed and slapped her across the jaw. The pain made Spike's mind reel.


The man grasped the back of Buffy's head and forced himself between her lips. If Spike could, he would have vomited all over the floor. The stench of the man's sweaty flesh, the foul taste of him in Buffy's mouth, the vicious thrusts that hit the back of her throat were overwhelming, and Spike could feel Buffy shut it all out, disappearing into the world where none of this could touch her.


Then it struck him-- a sudden memory of a long forgotten dream swimming back to the surface-- the reason why he'd felt the meadow was familiar; the evasive memory he couldn't grasp after he'd woken up from the drunken stupor after Drusilla left him. He remembered.


The man's disgusting grunts echoed off the stone walls, and rage unlike anything Spike had ever felt flooded every fiber of his mind. He swore that he wouldn't rest until he caught every single bastard that had touched his slayer, and he'd make them pay. He'd make them bleed, feed them their own entrails as they pleaded with him to stop. But he wouldn't.


A flash of movement caught his attention and Spike's rage increased tenfold. The hijacker. Spike focused with all of his being to get the control of the memory-Buffy's body long enough to finish it. He barely felt her emotions now, she was far too gone in her self made world to escape the horror of what was happening and it made it easier for him to take over. Spike managed to accumulate enough energy to shove the man away with a reeling force and kick his face, knocking him out cold. There was a glimmer nearby and Spike caught the sight of the dagger. It was the first time he was thankful for outside interference. There was nobody that could have done that beside the Powers That Be and Spike sent them a silent thanks.


Spike grasped the dagger and charged at the hijacker, battling him to the ground and with a sweeping arc of his hand, Spike thrust the knife into the demon's skull, cracking it open like an eggshell, and dissolving into a puddle of black sludge second after. He was dead.


The memory world leaked away and the next moment Spike woke up, he found himself lying on the floor of the hotel room, his hand intertwined with Buffy's.


“Buffy! We did it! We won!” Spike shouted, grinning and looked over at Buffy.


She hadn't woken up.


'Magic always has consequences. Always.'


TBC


Author's note: The update hopefully next week... all depends on the net I'll have. :) I hope you've enjoyed!