chapter 18, stay – part II

Buffy was hiding in the coolest spot she could find after running as far away from Spike as she could get in ten seconds or less. When Spike had suddenly let her go, she had grabbed Dawn and Carlo and raced into the orchid of black fruit trees lining the side of the road, dragging them at her side. Her Slayer instincts had told her to run. Get away from the vampire until she had a plan or at least a weapon. She peered at Spike through the branches. She'd also had a hunch he wouldn't follow her. There were no sunbeams cutting through the trees; no scorching light for him to devour. Just shadows and darkness.

But as she looked at Spike, she realized she wasn't going to need a weapon just yet.

Spike was reveling in the daylight. He stood with his feet spread wide apart, swaying from side to side, eyes closed and chin lifted to the sky. He'd dropped his duster on the ground and pulled his t-shirt over his head. She couldn't help but marvel at how his naked torso glistened in the sunlight.

Spike opened his eyes and looked at Buffy, and as a broad grin spread across his face, she shuddered. It was as if he'd reached out and touched her with his gaze.

“He's sun bathing, right?” Buffy jumped at the sound of Dawn's voice in her ear.

“Yeah, guess so.” She didn't look at Dawn. Her eyes were glued on Spike as he sat down in the middle of the road and casually crossed his legs. He then twisted his t-shirt into a small ball and carefully wiped the water from his chest and forearms.

Buffy's hand flew to her neck and she felt the sweat pooling at the base of her throat.

“Why are we hiding from Spike?” Dawn asked, moving to the edge of the road.

“Stop!” Buffy pulled her back into the dark. “Have you lost your mind? He bit you less than fifteen minutes ago, that's why.”

“He didn't really bite me, Buffy,” said Dawn. “Well, not hard. If he'd wanted to hurt me, he would have drained me just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Shush!” Carlo snatched Dawn's hand from mid-air and mimed the words shut up. He then turned to Buffy. His brown eyes were black and filled with tears as his lips curled into a anguished grimace. “That bastard killed my mother," he whispered.

“Your mom, she's dead?” said Buffy. “Oh God, Carlo. I'm so sorry. What happened?”

Spike leapt to his feet and stalked across the dirt path to the edge of the road. “Didn't kill your mum, boy,"

“Then who the fuck did, you vampire prick?” Carlo sprang to his feet and rushed toward Spike, but Buffy grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him to the ground.

“Good girl, Slayer. I didn't want to hurt the boy.”

“Shut up, Spike.” Buffy turned to Dawn's friend. “What happened to your mother?”

Carlo pulled his knees into his chest. “We found her in the restaurant…just before we saw you in the alley.” Carlo's eyes fixed on Spike. “She was torn apart. Blood everywhere and he…killed…her.”

Buffy shook her head. She couldn't believe Carlo. Spike hadn't killed Dawn and he certainly had no reason to kill Carlo's Mom. True, Spike had changed. He had new fangled powers and could stand in the daylight and sweat. The water was rolling over the muscles of his chest as Buffy watched him. He also breathed. His torso, taut and sculptured, heaved in and out with each breath he took. He wasn't pretending as he pulled and released oxygen in and out of his lungs. He had to breathe to live. Jesus Christ. The phrase living dead had taken on an entirely new meaning.

“He didn't kill your mother. He was with me that night and all that day,” said Buffy. “He was at my side from the moment we left the apartment, Carlo. Trust me, he didn't kill her.”

“Thank you for that, love.”

Buffy stared at a piece of black fruit that hung on a branch near her head. She believed in her heart that Spike hadn't killed Carlo's Mom. Sure, he'd murdered his share of Moms. He had killed more men, women and children than she would ever want to count. But he hadn't hurt Carlo's Mom. "What happened in the alley, Spike?”

“Portal jumper gave me his gifts,” he said quickly. “I told you that.”

“Okay, got that—I think,” she paused, contemplating her next words. “Can we trust you?”

“To do what, pet?”

“Damn you, Spike!” She stood up. “You tried to kill, Dawn!”

“No, I bit Dawn," said Spike. “If I'd wanted to kill her, I would have. But something or someone stopped me. Besides, I didn't want to...k-kill her. ”

“Buffy?” Dawn's voice reached her from the forest. “Is Spike alive? Like in human, breathing alive?”

“Don't know.” Her voice was sharp. “Are you?” She turned to Spike.

“Yes and no. Or more precisely, don't know exactly what I am.” He stared at his hands.Then he turned his palms up and down ritually as if he was searching for something. “Why are you hiding in the dark, Slayer?”

“Because I believe it's safer for us…in the dark, right now, Spike.”

“You afraid of me, love?”

“No.” she said honestly. “Just don't want to have to stake you.”

“Buffy, no," Dawn's voice pleaded. "You can't kill Spike.”

“Damn it, Dawn,” said Buffy. “Be quiet."

"But, Buffy?" screeched Dawn.

"But...Dawn," said Buffy, biting her lower lip to prevent herself from screaming.

She then spun suddenly away from Dawn and Carlo and marched toward the sunlight. She could feel their eyes on her back as she swooped underneath the branches of the black fruit trees and stepped onto the road.

"I don't believe you want to hurt us." She said looking down at Spike. "But I don't know if you can stop yourself. We're in big trouble here. We have to get back to New York City and I need your help.”

Buffy waited for what felt like an eternity for him to say something or to just look up at her.

"Can't explain what happened to me Slayer." He stared at his hands. “But won't hurt you or the bint. Promise. Although, I can't guarantee I'll act the way you've grown accustomed to.” Spike pulled his knees into his bare chest. “I've changed. But don't rightly know what I've changed in to. But, I promise, I'll die first before I hurt you or try to hurt Dawn again. I swear.”

Buffy hesitated. Then she sat on the ground facing Spike and crossed her legs. “I believe you," she said softly. "But we've got to figure out a way to get back to New York. And we've got to do it fast.”


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“You think you can show up all scaly and bigger than anything I've ever seen, and scare me?” At least her voice wasn't shaking, thought Willow, as she glared at the blue-eyed devil. “Well, no. Not scaring me. You freaking idiot!”

“Shut up, bitch!” Its voice blasted through the alley.

“No!” she shouted. “You can't talk to me like that!”

The wind circled around her, whipping itself into a frenzy of speed, gathering debris from the corners of the alley and the dumpsters surrounding them.

Willow chuckled as she examined the perfect face of Shemhazi. He was such a whore. He'd led two hundred of his disciples into a village a hundred thousand years ago, or yesterday, according to what dimension you believed in, she figured. But all in all, it didn't matter. They'd all believed he'd brought them a heavenly power.

Willow 's thoughts reeled through time and dimensions. She was Willow, and she was Shemhazi's first wife, the first witch of all time. She had been bestowed with the all-dimensional magic of the word by one of God's chosen. Except he was an angel that had broken his promise to heaven and had been banished to earth, and here, he had blithely given the world its first witches.

The chant flowed from Willow's lips as the magical cylinder she'd conjured spun out of control. It had shielded her from Shemhazi's touch and from the magic in his eyes, but it also had prevented her from using the full breath of her powers. God, she needed to get away from Shemhazi and Luke.

Willow scanned the alley, searching for anything she could use to distract Shemhazi. All she needed was an instant and she could disappear. Get back to Tara and find Dawn before Shemhazi figured out she was gone. She glanced at Luke. Tara was still working the memory mojo on him. He'd forgotten all about Spike and Jacob and the seven hundred years of blood and the gifts he'd been given. The small little man hid in the shadows beneath the fire escapes.

Still, the beast towering above her was like a god. More powerful than Glory and the most vicious evil she'd seen since Angelus. As much power as Willow had mastered since the thought spell, she needed much more of it to beat him.


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Anya had been a demon for a thousand years. Snatching a locket from her throat couldn't give her a new life. Falling for a man who didn't quite get her couldn't make her all shiny and new. Smacking her across the face and shoving her to the ground, didn't change what she was. Just like taking away one thought hadn't made her a woman who deserved to be saved. Her nature was to be what she had to be. She couldn't be human. She was a demon.

Deal with that, Miss Born on the Fourth of July!

Her eyes opened and she searched for Luke's face.

She spotted him quickly.

He was huddled in a corner.

to be continued…