Chapter 3—Flight of Fancy

A flight of fancy on a windswept field—Pink Floyd, “Learning To Fly”

Spike stalked through the streets of Sunnydale, the Buffybot trailing behind him trying to make small talk. He ignored the metallic voice, the annoying jabber as long as he could before he growled, “Will you shut your bleeding gob?”

She looked at him, frowning for a millisecond, and then bounced over to take his arm. “I love it when you growl like that, Spike. It’s so darn sinister and evil. Will you growl like that for me later?”

He shook her arm off, and cursed Willow for the thousandth time. You would think the bloody bint could figure out a simple program. It wasn’t like she had to encrypt bloody War and Peace.

He lit a cigarette, and stomped through the woods toward Revello Drive. The bot followed as she was programmed, and when a vampire jumped out behind her, she barely broke stride, staking him then running to catch up with Spike.

When he got to the house, he paused at the edge of the yard. “Laissez la barrière laisser tomber et me permettre le passage.” His vision shimmered, and he felt the tingles of Glinda’s magic raise the hair on his neck, and stepped into the yard.

Once the Buffybot had passed the boundaries, Spike turned, and made a brisk movement with his hand. “Sans couture et entier, la protection est proche de nouveau.” He never did like French, seemed like a right poncy language to him, but they didn’t want anyone with demonic or magickal powers to conjure their way into the house. At least it wasn’t in Klingon. That had been his other choice, and the more preferable, if Xander had any say. Thank the Powers he didn’t. He hated all those fricatives and guttural consonants.

He was concerned about the blond witch. He knew that there were major problems with Red and the magic, didn’t have to be a vampire or have superb hearing for that. Red seemed to be oblivious to the turmoil she was stirring, and Glinda had been woodenly going through the motions ever since…he couldn’t remember when.

He’d call her right now if he knew what was wrong. Maybe he should to find out what was wrong. Nah, Glinda didn’t want to confide in him.

He climbed the stairs, and went to check on Dawn.

For once, she was having a peaceful night. The nightmares seemed to be coming fewer and farther between, and for that, he was grateful. It was hard enough holding down a lanky fourteen-year-old without the earsplitting shrieks coming out of her mouth. With a little training, she could probably shriek loud enough to explode a vampire’s head. Maybe he should try to train her to do that.

He shooed the thoughts away, and closed the math book below the slender girl’s head. He pulled the blanket up and tucked her in, then kissed her forehead gently, departing as silently as he came.

The bot was still waiting for him in the kitchen. He sighed, and looked from it to the cubbyhole that he, Xander, and Willow had rigged for it to be stored in. There were two plugins for the battery packs, and a tiny area for clothes and makeup for the mechanical doll. Spike stared at her, wondering how he thought that thing could ever replace Buffy, and his heart twisted unexpectedly.

His voice came out rough and growly, and not a good growl. “Go on. Park you chassis in the cubby for the night.”

She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Spike. I don’t mean to make you angry. If I do that special thing, will you like me again?”

“Argh! Just get away from me, and leave me alone.” He gave it a shove, and it slid into the cubby. He pulled accordion doors closed, and prayed that the godforsaken batteries on that thing would run down.

Even as he prayed, he knew the answer wasn’t forthcoming. They needed the damn toy, and not for shagging or checkers. That thing was the only barrier between the demon world and their hard-kept secret. They hadn’t heard of another slayer being called, and Giles was off in England, trying to research covertly between drunken bouts of guilt and loss, but Spike knew that there was no other. The only slayer now was in prison for an undefined period, and someone had to guard the Hellmouth. Since he was the strongest, it fell to him.

He really didn’t mind. It was for her. Everything was for her. He had to fulfill his promise, even if he couldn’t fulfill it that fateful night.

He made his way to the basement, and stripped down before lying down on the camp cot. Dawn kept trying to get him to move upstairs into Buffy’s room, but he finally told her to sod off, so she quit trying. He couldn’t. He didn’t belong there.

He was beneath her.

In the space between the cot and the wall, he reached for the only thing to be removed from Buffy’s room since her burial.

It was really a pitiful sight. Bedraggled, worn fur, mashed in snout, and one ear that looked like it had spent quite a bit of time in the Slayer’s teeth, but it was hers, and he loved it for that fact alone. It still carried a trace of her scent, and he pressed it to his face, inhaling deeply and fighting tears that only reared their ugly head when he’d had a particularly trying night.

Inexplicably soothed, the vampire curled his arm around a stuffed pig, and drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

From utter darkness, there was light, and she was in it.

Spike looked at her in wonder. She glowed from the inside, her beauty incandescent in the realm of his dreams. She smiled at him, and warmth suffused his aching heart.

“I see you, Spike. I see all that you do. Thank you.”

He couldn’t speak to her, for some reason. He could only stare at her, eyes wide. He thought he knew what effulgence was. He was sorely mistaken. He was a fool. A complete and utter fool.

She came to him, her arms open for him, and he fell into them weeping. She soothed him with tender caresses and kisses, then held his tear-stained face between her hands.

“I am always here with you. Death was my gift. Not only for Dawn’s sake, but for everyone’s, including you. I could not imagine my life without….

She stopped speaking, and turned her head as if listening. “I have to go. Someone noticed me gone. Remember. I am always here.” She touched his heart, and it gave a painful throb beneath her hand.

Spike woke with the stabbing pain of a heartbeat. He could still feel the vestiges of warmth on his skin from her embrace, and his mouth tingled from the touch of her lips to his. He was also completely hard.

He was losing his bloody mind.


A/N: Before I get flamed--I do not know French; I ran what I wanted through a phrase translator and went with what it gave me. So sue me for taking Spanish in school....