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Influence of Demons by gabrielleabelle
 
Portal
 
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Two years ago...

Ugvan scooped ice into his glass before pouring the scotch.

"No drink?"

"Would rather get to business." Spike didn't like the place. The atmosphere set him on edge. Dark, velvet colors with ornate, old lady-style furniture and ornaments. Knick-knacks on top of knick-knacks. Good thing he didn't breathe. He'd probably start a domino effect and leave the room all tottered like a tornado riding a drunk bull had careened through.

"I like a demon that gets straight to business." Ugvan pointed at him with his cigar. There was no indication as to Ugvan's being a demon. He looked like nothing else but a portly, mustachioed human. Spike knew better, though. This bloke, kitschy or not, had power.

"You know why I'm here."

Ugvan groaned as he sat in a patterned armchair that creaked beneath him. Ugvan propped his legs up on a matching ottoman. "Pretend I don't."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I want my soul, you bleeding wanker."

"Oh, you'd like it if I were bleeding, wouldn't you?" Ugvan smiled. "Demon wanting his soul? Not a normal request."

"S'pose not. You can do it, though." It wasn't a question. Spike had spoken to a demon who'd gotten his soul back thanks to the bloke. Not like Spike would waste his time if he weren't certain.

Ugvan twisted one of his garishly large rings. "Why's it important to you?"

Spike snorted. "Let's talk about why it's important to you, mate." He drew his pouch. "I can pay."

The demon's fingers tapped a staccato on his glass. "Straight to the money, huh? Sit down."

"Prefer to stand."

"Sit." Ugvan motioned with a finger, and Spike's back snapped into the loveseat behind him. "You're here for your soul, no easy feat. You know this because you've looked high and low for some way to get your soul back, and all paths lead you to me." A spindly tongue snaked out to extinguish Ugvan's cigar with a hiss. The demon cooed at the burn.

"Now," he continued with a toe-curling lip smacking. "I don't know why a demon would want his soul back. It's an abomination, if you ask me, but I've had a few individuals over the years ask me. You're not as special as you think you are, and you aren't some rugged lone hero who can push his weight around on a whim." Ugvan leaned forward. "You're nothing. You are a pest of a demon begging me to cut his dick off. Why not try showing a proper amount of reverence and see where it gets you if you're gonna ask me to stick a soul in you?"

Spike glared. His body remained still. Not because of Ugvan's power. That spell had worn off as soon as it had been cast. Instead, he was frozen by the knowledge that Ugvan was right. There was no other way to get his soul back, and the soul was essential for getting home.

Swallowing his pride, Spike tried for sincere. "I'm sorry...sir."

Alright, so he couldn't completely keep the sarcasm out of the "sir". Fortunately for him, Ugvan laughed and sat back.

"Well, then. Strip your clothes off and get in the tub." He gestured to a room divider with crocodiles painted on it.

"Why am I getting naked?"

Ugvan had already begun scrounging through a deep drawer. "The water needs contact with bare skin. Conductivity and all that. Oh, it's gonna sting a bit. Singeing a soul into a demon isn't like slipping a dick into a pussy or anything. More like jamming your rod up a nostril."

"Lovely visual." Spike yanked his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt. "How much will this cost me?"

With his arms full of jars, Ugvan nodded at Spike's pouch. "I'll take it all, thank you. Just leave it on the sofa."

Spike scowled but did so. He'd expected that, but it still smarted.

Once he'd kicked his pants off, he moved to the corner of the room where a tub full of murky water sat.

"Looks like someone shit in there," Spike commented.

"Someone may have. But the magic soup's still good, don't worry."

"Not what I was worried about," Spike muttered. Not having many options, he swung a leg over and climbed in.

****

Now

Buffy's arm muscles were strained as she held them stiffly at her side. Not as powerful as they once were. Spike remembered those muscles from years past. She had such skinny arms, but wiry muscles were strapped to the bone. Hard and strong.

Now, disuse and her recent bout of poison had sapped their vigor. Shame, that.

Buffy held the map now, of course. Led the way. Spike found himself behind her, a position that was immediately familiar and comfortable. Instead of worrying about rituals and plans, he could watch the jagged sway of her hips as she walked. Her jeans were baggy, revealing nothing of her ass. Instead, he just saw the sag of denim hanging above her thighs. Every now and then, she'd reach a hand down to yank the waist up.

First thing on the other side would be to get her a meal.

His hourly perusal of Buffy was startled by a change in scenery.

The thick of the broad forest surrounded a clearing. The covering of grass tapered off until bare brown soil resided at the center. This was where the portal would appear. Only thing needed now was an X marking the bloody spot.

The sun sat high in the sky at their arrival. Its light prevented Spike from leaving the safe darkness of the forest.

"Here we are." Buffy threw down the duffel. "We just have to do the ritual now." She walked into the sunlight, leaving Spike behind her. "Speaking of which, what is the ritual?"

"Think it involves some chanting. Maybe some body-paint." His leer was only halfhearted, weighed down as he was by his anxiety. He'd been purposely pushing the spell out of his mind.

She didn't rise to the bait anyway. "It's gotta be more than chanting. Otherwise everybody would do it."

Spike fetched the Book of Langlar from their bag. Tucked between its pages was Avery's translation of the ritual. He skimmed it with raised eyebrows.

"We need a sacrifice," he said in a clipped tone.

"Human?"

"Animal will do."

Buffy kicked some dirt. "What else?"

Spike sat down against one of the trees. "Ah. Ska pastora."

Buffy crinkled her nose and sat down across from him. "What?"

"Salvia. It's a psychedelic. The ritual uses shaman magic. Well, the nicer bits of it. There's also a lot of blood and dark chanting and all."

"A psychedelic. That's a drug," Buffy said.

Spike looked up at her. When had Buffy's face gotten so expressive? It hadn't been on the other side. Now, though, all her worries and fears were etched across her features - the firmness of her mouth, the crinkle at her brow, the soft lines at her nose.

"Not like your type of drug. Not addictive. Just a mind trip."

She pushed her hair behind her ears. "Yeah, cause I haven't had enough of those lately."

"It'll be okay, Buffy. I'll be right there with you."

She didn't respond.

"You really in love with me?" he asked. He wasn't sure why he asked it, though once he did he found he wanted more than anything to hear the answer. He fought to keep from leaning in towards her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She was lying. Her heartbeat was speeding faster and a blush had appeared on her cheeks. He could tell she was lying.

"Just thinking it may be better for us to be honest with each other," he said. "Rather than all the deflecting and bullshit. Not that I haven't done my fair share, myself. But we're about to go home, pet." He tried to meet her eyes, but she stubbornly focused on the ground in front of her. "What are we gonna do then?"

Buffy's words came slowly. "So you used to be in love with me?"

Course. She would turn the whole thing around on him, wouldn't she?

Well, she'd asked.

"You were glorious, you know," Spike said. He stood and turned away from her. Easier if he didn't have to see what she was now. "Didn't want it to happen. Wanted to kill you. Couldn't help myself, though. You sneaked into my heart and burrowed a spot. Couldn't close my eyes without seeing you." He closed his eyes and smiled.

He turned when Buffy made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a sniff. He met her eyes. "I was ready to give it all up for you. The being evil thing." The glow laughed at him. "Hell, I was gonna try my best to be someone you could love."

"My window," Buffy said.

Spike frowned. "What's that?"

"You used to stand outside my window, smoking." She looked down at her shoes, old and falling apart though they were. She picked at the tattered sole of one of them. "I didn't think much of it then. I didn't think much about you at all."

He nodded. "Yeah, I did that." He blinked and shrugged. "Stole some of your panties, too. Your Muscular Mama's Boy caught me out on that. He cottoned on to the whole thing. Helped drive him nearly round the bend."

"Riley?"

Spike tilted his head and considered her. "I don't feel that anymore."

Buffy's expression turned blank. She didn't respond, so Spike continued.

"That infatuation." He laughed. "Christ, I had a bleedin' shrine to you! Worshiped you. Or at least, I wanted to." He shook his head. "Wouldn't worship you."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Yeah. Can't imagine many people would."

He didn't know why it was important for her to know this, but it was. "I don't love you now," he said.

"Right." She squeezed her shoulders. "I'm cold."

Spike shrugged his jacket off and tossed it to her.

"Right," he said as she put his jacket on. Time for business. "I'll go get us a deer or something for the ritual." He handed her the instructions. "You can read up on what else is required, okay?"

She didn't speak as she took the book from him.

****

Two years ago...

The smell was unbelievable. A mix of magic, shit, blood, and spices. Spike was sure the water was gonna stain his skin permanently. Leave him a mottled shit color to go with his tarnished soul. Would be appropriate, he supposed.

His knees rose from the tub, and he tapped his finger on the side. Tiny ripples in the water bellowed at the vibration.

"Can we get on with this?" he asked.

Ugvan had donned a pair of tiny spectacles and was flipping through books, bending the spines back to mark his place in one before going to another. He laid them all out in front of him like bingo cards.

"Don't think you want to rush through this," Ugvan said. "Wrong word could turn you inside out. Or make you into a zombie."

Spike rolled his eyes.

"Don't blame me. Not like I get asked to restore a soul very often."

"Right," Spike's eyes narrowed. "There's not gonna be any perfect moment of happiness clauses in this thing, right?"

Ugvan looked up, confused. "A what clause?"

"Never mind." Obviously not.

"Okay," Ugvan said with finality. "Let's get this started."

Then with a few foreign words, Spike felt his chest split open. He bit his tongue hard enough to bleed and his body tensed and shook. He gripped the sides of the tub.

He lost his senses. Well, all but the pain. No sound. No sight. No smell. Only the gaping hole in his chest, empty and gathering cobwebs for a century, being pried open, the sides parted in anticipation of reunion of body and soul.

Anticipation. The itchy adrenaline rush of expectation. His body poised for the final joining, readying to welcome the creaky old soul that he'd given up so long ago.

It didn't come. His body thrashed in panic. No soul. No soul. It had been waiting, but there was no soul. The house was prepared, fine china out and everything, but there was no soul. No soul. No soul. No soul.

Then something else. Rectangle in a circle rasped its way into his body, jagged edges catching at his flesh, his heart, his being. Conflicting consciousnesses gripped his mind and his body rioted, thrashing violently to eject the stranger.

He never stopped thrashing.

****

They began the ritual as soon as dusk fell.

While Spike had been hunting, Buffy had prepared the fire at the center of the clearing, right where the portal was to appear.

"In presence, in essence, to convey to the other side. All Honorable Cocijo, grant us access to your transport." They chanted in unison, repeating the same two sentences, each sitting on opposite sides of the fire.

With deliberate movement, Spike slashed his knife across his palm, releasing welts of blood. He turned his hand palm downward over the fire, letting the blood drip. When he handed the knife to Buffy, she did the same.

"All Honorable Cocijo, grant us access to your transport."

More blood to come. Spike took up the deer skull, now full of the beast's own blood. With a curt nod to the fire, he bowed his head and drank half of the vessel. Buffy grimaced when he handed it to her. At his raised eyebrow, though, she threw her head back and drank the rest.

"In presence, in essence, to convey to the other side."

Buffy put two fingers into the skull and then stroked them down her forehead, painting a line down the vertical of her face. With her thumb, she added horizontal marks on her cheek. Despite herself, her tongue flicked out to catch the blood on her lips.

When she passed the skull back to him, he did the same.

"All Honorable Cocijo, grant us access to your transport."

Spike grabbed the bag of Salvia leaves Avery had provided for them. They had been rolled into tightly compact balls. Spike put one in his mouth, chewing the leaf without swallowing. He passed the other quid to Buffy. She hesitated only a moment before putting it in her mouth.

The taste was bitter but Spike held it under his tongue. He grimaced as he continued the chanting. He dug into the dirt beside him, creating a furrow with his fingers. He arced his arm around toward Buffy, who was doing the same on her side. Where their hands met, a half circle was created around them. He extended his other arm to finish the circle.

His fingers bled into the night sky as his blood dripped into the furrows.

He knew it was starting, the trip, but he lost himself in it quickly.

THIS IS IMPORTANT

This was a memorytruth as the earth and his life opened in front of him. The porcelain bathtub rubbed against his face and he merged with it. The tub contained him contained the truth.

A screen of a time before.

The soul. A soul stuffed in him and dyed the murky water red. Color leeched into his skin.

"What happened?" His voice echoed a thousand times, each reverberation opening up a new dimension.

"Wasn't out there."

"What wasn't?"

"Your soul."

Fast forward. Squeaky voices and Spike laughed as he and Ugvan turned into cartoon characters. They danced as the tape wound. Stop there.

Hand stuck to forehead. "So what'd you put in me?"

"A soul, like you asked. Closest I could find. May not be yours, but it'll give you the guilt you're looking for."

Guilt walked in with a cowbell round its thick neck. It punched him in the gut, but its fist got stuck.

Ugvan's buzz became a voice. "Gonna have to charge more for that spell. Don't like having to improvise."

"I gave you all my money."

"Then you'll owe me more. Don't worry. I'll keep up with you."

Lightning flashed behind him as he spoke, and he lowered his face to give a devilish grin to the camera to Spike.

Not in the tub then. On the floor, clutching his unraveling guts as they slinkied out of his belly.

Ugvan snorted as he shook his head. "Demon asking for a soul. Pathetic." He walked away. "Have fun being fangless."

Spike's fangs left him and tumbled to the ground into the air. They grew larger and expanded to fill the plane.

The hollow plane. Nothingness forever.

And then,

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It was all Buffy. Everything. The universe was made up of tiny molecules of Buffy and him with his fingers and dick deep inside her center, pouring life and strength and partnership into the vibrant atmosphere but it wasn't enough never enough he needed more deeper deeper deeper into the buffy and the Buffy.

Why did everything always come back to her?

Buffy smiling. Buffy frowning. Buffy laughing. Buffy staking a vampire. Buffy riding his dick. Buffy sniffing and rubbing that coke-infested nose of hers. Buffy looking annoyed at him. Scared of him. Scared for him. In love with him. With him. With him. At some point, his universe of one had become a universe of two and Spike didn't have a word to say against it because it was Buffy. It was always Buffy. Never anything but.

The world zoomed around him, shocking his consciousness. The trip, it was fading, folding, tucking itself away into a dark part inside him.

Spike's eyes focused on the portal. It glowed golden, spattering sparks of magic as it convalesced in the air.

The way home.

Somebody kicked him in the stomach, wrenching him from his awe. Spike still felt the lethargy of the Salvia, and he struggled to see who was attacking him.

A hand gripped his hair, forcing his face up.

"It's them!" A voice called.

Spike grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it up at his attacker. As soon as he heard the panicked snarl, Spike rolled out of his grip and stood on shaky legs. The left side of his body felt weighted, and he almost stumbled into the dying fire. Looking behind him, a regiment of troops bearing Dehevret's colors were entering the clearing.

When something grabbed his hand, Spike whirled around to strike at it. He managed to stop his momentum when he saw Buffy, blood smeared on her face.

"Spike, come on!" she said, obviously more clear-headed than he was.

"Buffy," he said, his voice full of awe. She was magnificent.

He shook himself out of it. Not the time.

"You first," he said, wary of his dreams becoming reality. He wanted to make sure that she'd make it.

He saw Buffy jump, her form vanishing through the dimensional rip.

She was gone.

It had worked.

With one last look over his shoulder, Spike grinned before turning to the portal. He jumped, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the trip.

Instead of going forward, though, his body rebounded with a loud cracking noise. He fell on his back, yards away from the portal. His limbs shook in shock at the expulsion.

Spike propped himself up on an unsteady elbow, staring in incredulity at the portal as it began to flicker.

No. No, this wasn't happening.

He forced his body back to standing, willing his legs to a run as he tried again. He flung himself at the portal, then roared as it kicked him back. He landed in the same place as he had before.

Spike growled. Around him, a hum of laughter erupted as the portal vanished.

Spike didn't care. They could laugh at him. They could kill him. Five bloody years had resulted in nothing. He stared down at the ground, panting heavily.

Heavy footsteps behind him approached with an even pace. As the steps stopped beside him, Spike felt a compulsion to look up, though he knew already what he'd see.

Dehevret stared down at him with narrowed eyes. "You were expecting something else, vampire?"

tbc...
 
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