Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Dark Reflection
Chapter Two: Red Rum

AN: Huge thanks to DoS. She's probably the best beta someone could ask for.




1630 Revello Drive
Midnight



Patrol had been easier than usual on this night for Buffy Summers it was only after she return from patrol that it go uglier. It had started out easy enough, patrolling though the Restfield Cemetery and staking a couple of fledgling vampires. That had been cake walk, but after finding out from Willow that the trio was about to rob an armored truck full of money, she hastily made her way there.

The trio had been a major pain in her butt ever since she had come back from the dead, and it was about time they got what was coming to them. Warren the Idiot had some weird, mystical balls on him that made him invincible-- the balls of Neverland or something, but Buffy had managed to shatter his balls, leaving him vulnerable again.

*Shattered his balls -- you’ve been spending too much time with Spike. That’s it, no more thoughts of the evil, really hot vampire. No more. No more grunting or sexcapades or whatever Anya might call them.*

Warren had pulled a rocket man on her and made with his escape, while Jonathon and Tucker’s brother had been left behind. So now Warren was on his own, his two friends stuck in jail, his escape act just another evidence of his cowardice.

But really, what could you expect from a geek?

Exhausted from the events of the evening, Buffy made her way slowly up the porch steps of her house. She pulled the key out of her pocket and opened the door carefully, not wanting to wake her little sister up. But when she hit the light switch, to her surprise, there was a sprawled out vampire lying asleep on her couch -- the very same vampire she had been trying so hard not to think of.

Spike.

And what was even worse, by the smell of it, he had been drinking all night.

Lying on the floor beside him was her little sister Dawn. She too was fast asleep -- but not for long. Buffy strode over to her and shook her awake, a bit more roughly than she might have otherwise.

“What do you want?” Dawn asked sleepily.

“What do I want? I want there to not be a vampire lying on my couch, that’s what I want! Care to explain, Dawnie?” Buffy asked, her voice deceptively calm.

“I’m sorry, Buffy, but I didn’t know what do. He had been drinking and crying and he needed help, so I brought him here, because we’re like friends and stuff.”

“He’s not your friend, Dawn. He’s a soulless monster, a killer with a chip that keeps him from attacking people. That does *not* make him really with the friendliness,” Buffy insisted vehemently.

“So what? Okay, so he’s a soulless monster; he was the same soulless monster when he took care of me while you were dead. Where was Soulboy Angel then? Nowhere to be found, that’s where! He stayed here all summer, and protected us all, and you’ve still got the nerve to call him a monster? What have *you* done to take care of me since you got back, Buffy? I think the only reason you patrol at all is that you’re hoping to die again so you can go back to your precious heaven! But Spike? He’s still here. He never stopped loving me, or you, not after everything. You’re hopeless, Buffy,” Dawn replied, the anger in her voice gradually rising until by the end she was nearly shouting, on the verge of hysterics.

Buffy was at a loss for words, not sure how to counter her sister’s claims which were mostly true – but she refused to let herself be silenced.

“We are so not done here, missy. We’ll finish this talk tomorrow.” And with that Buffy headed up to her room, pushing aside any thoughts of hot drunken sex with Spike.

*Dawn’s right. I’m hopeless.*

*****

Spike rolled around on his bed, sweaty sheets stuck to his pale skin. He flailed in his alcohol-induced dream and cried, bitter tears sliding down his cool cheeks. He wanted her so badly that he could almost taste her, her exquisite scent smothering his senses even in sleep. He felt her heat, her warm body pressed against his, responsive, doing exactly as he desired.

Just a dream…

He felt a sudden sting across his face, and heard Dawn cry out indignantly, as he shot up to a sitting position. As he blinked sleepily in the warm light, he groggily realized that he was on the couch in the Summers’ house.

His eyes half-closed, eyelids trying to block out the light that seemed blinding to his not-yet-adjusted eyes, he leaned back on the couch – and saw her, the goddess that was Buffy, the redemption that he’d never hold, not truly, yet had already had a small taste of. She meant so much to him, affected him so deeply, that it felt like his stomach was all tied up in knots, anytime she was present.

But at the moment, those knots were for a slightly different reason than usual.

She had a steely glare on her face, cold green eyes staring into his with fury, and he knew that he was in for it.

“Buffy?” He spoke cautiously, unsure just exactly what she was upset about, and therefore how to respond to her.

She ignored him -- not that it surprised him -- and turned to Dawn. “Go to your room, Dawn.”

“But Buffy…”

Her cry of indignant protest fell on deaf ears. “Go, Dawn.”

Dawn shot her a dirty look as she headed up the stairs to her room.

“What do you think you’re playing at, Spike?” she asked coldly, glaring at him.

“What do you want me to say, Buffy?” He said softly, not quite looking her in the eyes. “I’m not – not *playing* at anything…”

A look of anger flashed across Buffy’s face at his words, and she cut him off before he could go any further. “Getting drunk around my little sister, sleeping with my friends -- just what are you playing at, Spike?” Standing over him, arms folded over her chest, she looked righteously furious.

“It’s what you expected, isn’t it? For me to do something ‘evil’, so you can continue blaming me for everything and being all bloody self-righteous?” Though his voice was still quiet, there was a not of bitterness to his words. “I’m sorry for sleeping with Anya. That was a bit too close to home, I’ll admit -- but it’s not like I had any obligation to you anymore, Slayer,” Spike continued calmly, finally raising his eyes to hers, piercing blue locking onto the emerald eyes of the Slayer.

“You dumped me, Buffy,” he reminded her, and she could still hear the anguish in his voice at the memory of what had taken place between them. “You blew up my crypt and jumped on the I Love Captain Cardboard bandwagon the moment he arrived. And that’s okay, because I expected it…but *you* left *me*, Buffy. You didn’t want me anymore.” Tears stung his eyes at the pain and humiliation of the admission.

“I love you, Buffy. You are everything to me; you’re the reason for my existence. You make me feel alive, and sometimes – sometimes, you make me feel like a man, a man so hopelessly in love that he can’t do anything but worship at your feet. But when a love that powerful isn’t returned, Buffy -- and all you get is just constantly stepped on – a man can only take so much, Buffy.”

Buffy could say nothing in response to his heartfelt confession; she swallowed hard, swallowing back a sob, shaking her head slightly as she opened her mouth to try to form a response – but Spike was already going on, his tears streaking his face now as he spoke in a low, trembling voice of powerful emotion.

“I know Angel hurt you. You gave him your virginity, and he tried to destroy you. Then, after you forgave him for all that -- after everything you did to keep him with you -- he left. Just walked away like you meant nothing to him, gave you the whole broody, tortured act and scampered off to L.A. like the poof he is. So yeah, I get that it’s hard for you to trust again -- but I think you know I’m not like him. You did everything you could to break me, Buffy, hoping one day I’d go just like the rest of them – but I’ve stayed.”

He swallowed hard, dropping her gaze for a moment before meeting her eyes again and adding softly, “Until now.”

Buffy’s eyes widened slightly, and she drew in a sharp, involuntary breath, but could find no words.

“No matter what I do, Buffy, you’ll never love me. I’m just a killer, right? Watch out, kiddies, the Neutered Big Bad is in town!” he scoffed sadly, sniffing back the tears that flowed freely now. “You think the only reason I won’t kill is because of this chip in me – well, that used to be true. But now it’s all changed. I love you Buffy, that’s why I don’t kill -- and for a long time, that’s been the only reason I don’t just step out into the sunlight and end it all.”

“So why did you sleep with Anya?” Buffy asked, her voice faltering in the wake of the vampire’s spilling his heart out to her so openly, though her hurt was still evidence in the accusation of her words. “If you really love me so much?”

“Because deep down, I know that you’ll never love me. Because honestly, who could love a vicious, soulless killer, right, Buffy? Just a helpless vampire who can’t do any more than threaten without getting a soddin’ migraine. That’s why you were with me, wasn’t it? Couldn’t kill me, me being all helpless and all-so that was your way of punishing me, for what I was –punishing *me* for what Peaches did to you and trying to get me to leave, jus like him so you wouldn’t have to feel so bloody bad about it. Well, I’ve got feelings too you know, Slayer. Just because my heart doesn’t beat doesn’t mean it can’t feel.”

“But you don’t have a soul,” Buffy whispered the words, almost out of habit. “You can’t feel.”

Spike laughed softly, though his anguish was still clear on his face. “It’d be so easy if everything was that black and white, Buffy. If I thought that getting a soul would make any difference, I know how to go about getting one, and I’d have gotten it a long time ago. But it doesn’t matter what I do, you’ll only see me as your enemy. I could dust several times over for you and yours, and you’d still take me as nothing more than a bloody joke,” Spike replied softly, a weary expression of heartache on his face.

The sun was down, and Spike headed out the back door off the kitchen, Buffy following close behind. Just before he reached the door, she grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, pushing him forcefully back against the wall. The look in her eyes told him that she wasn’t really sure why she’d done it, and she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, though her lips were parted and she was shaking her head slightly.

She didn’t want him, not really – but she didn’t want to let him go.

Spike fought back a groan as her body shifted closer to his, pinning him against the wall. He knew that sooner or later, her touch would be his destruction. “I wish I could stop loving you,” he confessed softly, his eyes closed, his head turned slightly away from her. “It’d make life a hell of a lot easier for me. I know this is wrong, a soulless vampire in love with the Slayer, not in the natural order of things, is it? But I can’t help it now, I’m hooked, and the only way this will ever stop is if I dust. I can’t stop loving you, Buffy. This is as real as it gets, and I’m never gonna be able to escape it -- so just do me a favor and make it quick,” Spike whispered, his cool breath blowing softly against Buffy’s neck.

“You’re asking me to stake you?” Her voice was a whisper as well, shocked and almost horrified.

“It’s the only way it’ll ever stop.” Spike turned to look her in the eye again, his lips ghosting over hers, his tears dripping down to soak his shirt. “Just do it, Slayer.”

Buffy looked down, her voice suddenly vulnerable and uncertain as she replied, “I can’t Spike. I…”

“Don’t start,” Spike cut her off, aware that if she went much further, she would break his resolve. “I need to leave. There has to be a way for this to stop. This ends tonight,” he insisted, with an effort pushing her away from him and slipping out the door before she could try to stop him again.

“Spike! Wait!” Buffy cried, following him out into her backyard.

He turned momentarily to face her, fighting back the anguished sobs at having to leave her like this, as he shook his head and desperately whispered, “I can’t! I can’t, Buffy…I have to…”

As he spoke, he turned to leave, and his words were cut off as suddenly, something slammed hard into his chest, spinning him around and sending him flying into Buffy’s fence. Spike looked around, a bit dazed, to see his blood staining the fence behind him, and then looked down at the small hole in his chest in shock. “Bloody hell.”

“You stupid bitch! You think you can do what you did and get away with it?” Warren stepped out of the bushes with a nine millimeter in his hand.

Buffy stared at Spike in horror, before slowly turning her head, her green eyes blazing and narrowed at the shooter.

“Warren. You’re such a coward. It’s pathetic, really, when you think about it,” Buffy stated, eyes warily darting between her attacker and her ex-lover, lying against the fence. She knew that the bullet would not kill Spike, and at the moment, though she wanted to go to him, she knew that she had to focus on Warren.

“Shut up, you stupid bitch. I’m not a coward, I just don’t happened to be supernaturally blessed like some.”

“No, you aren’t, you just cheat your way to power. You really plan on shooting me with that, Warren?” Her voice was slow, cautious, as her mind raced, trying to find a way to talk him down.

“Yeah, I think I do.” And with that, Warren lifted the nine millimeter to the level of Buffy’s chest.

He squeezed off a couple shots – and everything seemed to move in slow motion from that point. Spike’s eyes went wide in horror, and he leapt toward Buffy, despite the pain of his own injuries. Her eyes were wide with disbelief as a bullet tore through her stomach, burning past her intestines and out her back. Before the other bullet could hit her, Spike covered her body and shook as his body was riddled with more bullets. His neck went numb as a 9mm bullet tore the flesh away, along with splintered bits of bone.

At some point during the attack he had shifted into his game face.

Both Spike and Buffy collapsed to the ground, exhausted, bodies weak and swiftly growing numb from the many bullet wounds they had taken, and despite his desperation to protect her, Spike felt his body sliding off of hers, as he no longer had the strength to hold himself up.

Warren walked up to the two of them, and shot Buffy again through her chest. Her eyes closed, her body ready to shut down from the trauma of the assault, as Warren took aim again at Spike, and emptied the clip into his face, leaving his cheek torn, ragged, from the impact of the blast.

“No!” Dawn came running out of the house just then, with Tara just behind her.

Warren reloaded and took aim at them, firing two more shots.

Buffy’s eyes opened once more, and the last thing she saw was Dawn, falling to the grass, one hand clutched over a spot on her neck from which bright red blood ran freely.

Dying -- and Buffy felt the despair of knowing that she could do nothing but join her.