Chapter 12

A/N: Now that the Fates are making their entrance, here’s something for clarification. I came up with the fancy idea that these ladies always think the same things. When one of them speaks, the others are chipping in from time to time. When they are talking all at once, the words will be in italics. Just so you know. Now enjoy :D


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’oh you were just a roller coaster memory
i don't know why I was even passing through
i saw you making a date with Destiny
when he came around here asking after you’
- “it never rains” by dire straits

When Buffy looked around her, the Slayers who had accompanied them were still fighting the vampires. They were still reaching for their weapons, one of them was just plunging her stake through the undead’s heart.

Time was not entirely frozen. It just seemed as though they were standing inside a bubble while the world around them moved in very slow motion. The motions were almost impossibly slow and blurry as if dipped in molasses.

“What the hell?” In one swoop, with her words, the Slayer drove her stake through the vampire that had attacked her.

“What’s going on?” Once again, Spike’s weapon barked and his attacker exploded into a cloud of dust.

He got his answer when three women stepped out of the shadows.

The three most beautiful women he had ever seen. Really. Ever.

There were all of equal height, the one in the middle shorter by a hair’s breadth.

The left one had pitch-black hair that curled all the way down to her waist. Her eyes were dark brown or, actually, black, her lips a luscious red. She had almost feline features, a sharp chin and a cute little nose. Her perfectly shaped body was clad in black leather that she wore like a second skin. Or like her own skin for that matter, since it left all but nothing to the imagination. Her long, long legs ended in a pair of dangerously high-heeled boots. Lachesis, who sings of the things that were.

The shorter one in the middle had a wild red mane that framed her pale face. Her eyes sparkled in emerald green, and there were even a few freckles on her nose. She, too, wore a black leather ensemble that accentuated her ample breasts. Atropos, who sings of the things to be.

The one on the right was of the same striking beauty, her hair blond, her eyes azure blue. In contrast to the others, her clothing was as white as snow, standing out against her slightly tanned skin. Clotho, who sings of the things that are.

”Spike?“ Buffy’s voice was somewhere to his right, blurred and dull. ”Earth to Spike?“ A hand appeared in his field of vision.

The vampire blinked a few times, trying to focus on something other than the startling beauty of the Fates. ”Huh?“

“You’re gawking.”

“Really?” He tried to sound confused but knew that she was right. But how could he not be gawking? Those three ladies were what millions and millions of women wanted to look like, trying to achieve that goal by all sorts of methods. They were perfect, a spitting image of every man’s wildest fantasies. And despite being a vampire, ensouled and robbed of his emotional memories, he was still a man. And he was thinking some very manly thoughts at the moment.

“Yeah-huh.” The Slayer sounded slightly pissed by his lack of attention.

Spike cleared his throat, blinking again. “Sorry.”

“The Slayer,” Clotho said, her voice warm and soft.

“The Slayer,” Lachesis repeated, her voice husky as though she had smoked too many cigarettes.

“And,” Atropos continued.

“A vampire,” the three women spoke all at once, the unison of their voices ringing like chimes dipped in the most delicious honey.

A chill ran down Spike’s spine and he had to close his eyes, trying to ward off the sensation.

The Fates spread around them in a perfectly symmetrical triangle.

“What the hell is going on?” Buffy made a step towards Spike whose gaze shifted from one woman to the next then to the third and back again.

“We haven’t seen the Slayer in two thousand years,” Lachesis started and the others chimed in. “She looks pretty.”

“Look,” Atropos turned to the other gelatinized Slayers. “There are more. They are all Slayers. Awakened by magic.”

“This one is real,” Clotho made a step towards Buffy, cocking her pretty head to one side. “She was the first.” She made another step. The Slayer wanted to back away but was frozen in place. “She is smart. And she is… in love. With… the vampire.”

The Fates focused on Spike again who didn’t look all to concerned about the sudden attention. In an instant, the three women had closed in on him. Clotho in front of him, Lachesis and Atropos behind him, a little to his sides.

As if on a silent command, they laid their right hands on him, Clotho on his chest, the others on his shoulders. Suddenly, the pain in his shoulder seemed to diminish. As a general notion, nothing around him seemed to affect him.

Clotho’s stare seemed to penetrate him, a slow smile spreading on her lips. “He is special, this one.”

The Fates started to circle around him, Lachesis stepping into his vision.

“He was bad once.” The way the words rolled off the woman’s tongue, they didn’t sound all that bad. “But he fought to become a champion. He fought for her. For the Slayer.”

A thick haze started to cloud Spike’s perception. His vision blurred and bells started to chime in his ears. He didn’t quite understand what the Fates were saying but their voices started to touch something inside him. Not only the parts that were usually controlled by his hormones but something else. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

Again, Clotho stood in front of him. “Now he has a soul. He is unique.” She ran a hand over her cheek, her fingernails slightly raking at his skin. “His love is so pure and strong. But there is something else inside him. Something is holding him back. He doesn’t remember.”

Now, the slightly shorter Atropos stepped in front of him, her red hair almost seemed like a halo of liquid flame. “He will. He will remember.” She cupped his face with her hands. “A faerie has taken his memories but he will remember. What is inside him is too strong to be held back. It is fighting. It’s clawing its way out. He will need it to protect the girl.” She pressed her body against his and leaned into him until she could whisper into his ear. “You will remember.”

With that, the woman stepped away from him, snapping her slender fingers.

Time around them collapsed, picking up full speed again. The vampires were on them with more force than before. Even more appeared from the darkness, attacking the Slayers in pairs now.

Buffy was tackled to ground once more, this time by a bulky fellow with a long ponytail. His hands, which had to be the size of small frying pans, closed around her throat, blocking off her air. Stars started to dance in front of her eyes as she tried to reach for her stake. She must have dropped it when the vampire had attacked her. Her hands reached out into nothing.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw her fellow Slayers kicking some vampire asses. Some role model she was. Sometimes those girls seemed to be a lot stronger than she was. Maybe she was just getting old.

She would definitely be dead within a couple more seconds if she didn’t get this hulk off her. Her vision had already turned into a hazy tunnel, closing even more with every passing moment. Maybe that was what Spike had been talking about more than a decade ago. That one good day a vampire needed to kill a Slayer.

She pressed her hands against the vampire’s chest in a feeble attempt to push him off. But to no avail. Two more seconds and the world around her turned black.

The weight was lifted off her, and air flooded her lungs. The light sprinkle of dust hit her face, and she coughed when she inhaled it.

“Buffy?”

She felt a hand in her face and blinked her eyes open. Spike was kneeling beside her, his weapon in one hand; the other was brushing dust out of her face.

“You okay?”

The haze that had clouded his features not a minute ago was gone. Now, his eyes shown with fear and concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled up at him, reaching up for his arm.

The world around Spike faltered.

When Buffy’s hand touched his arm, pain so sharp and vicious that it would have killed a human being in an instant lanced through him, blinding him. He stumbled away from her, scuttling across the floor into the darkness.

Buffy struggled to her feet. When she rose, she saw the pleased look on Atropos’ face. “What did you do to him?”

The woman let out a velvety laugh. “I helped him remember.”

“Why? How?”

“Because I can,” the women replied in unison. “Your vampire is very special,” this time it was just Atropos. “His love for you is stronger than any faerie magic. And we hate faeries.”

Buffy frowned at the woman in a “what the hell”-fashion then dismissed her, looking for Spike. She found the vampire in a corner behind what appeared to be an old engine of some kind. The sight of him reminded her of the day when he had set up camp in the basement of Sunnydale High.

He had his legs drawn to his body, his arms wrapped around his knees. He stared off into the darkness, his eyes haunted, darker than usual. Although he didn’t need to, he was panting heavily.

The Slayer was on her knees beside him, her hand touching his arm. “Spike? Spike, can you hear me?”

Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. Even though she could hardly see anything in the dim light, she swore that his face was actually shaking, as was his entire body.

“I remember.” Two small words yet they carried entirely too much meaning.

“We will let you go. This time.” Clotho appeared beside Buffy, kneeling down as well. She ran a hand over Spike’s knee. “Take your girls and go.”

The Slayer peered past the Fate to the other girls. Some of them had gotten rid of their attackers but others were held captive. The vampires didn’t try to kill the girls, they just held them as if waiting for another order. Something told Buffy that they would be better off if she followed Clotho’s advice. They could handle the vampires but they still didn’t know how to handle the Fates. And with Spike’s… weakened state, things weren’t looking all too bright for them.

“Spike?” Buffy tugged slightly on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“I remember,” he repeated, his voice hollow.

“Yeah, that’s great, sweetheart. But let’s skip down memory lane later and let’s get out of here, okay? Come on.” She tugged at his arm.

The vampire blinked slowly, and his eyes seemed to focus a little more. “Okay.”

Buffy pulled him to his feet, and they pushed past Clotho towards the door. “Come on, girls. Let’s go.”

The vampires let go of the other Slayer as if told to do so by a silent command.

“We will meet again,” Atropos called after them when they hustled up the stairs. “And the next time we meet, it will be to the death.”


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