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Chapter 24


The rapidly approaching vampires had forced Spike to make a quick decision. Obviously, the cave dwellers had had no intention of letting him in, so that had left one option. Run.

Spike knew his best chance for survival at that point was to avoid conflict and find Buffy as fast as he could. But before he could find a place to hide and observe his opponent, he had been taken to the ground by one of two vampires that had followed him.

Clawing and scratching at each other, not only attempting to show dominance, but taking the other’s life in no consideration, they were now fighting to the death.

Scrambling to get back on his feet, Spike managed to get his assailant off him by pressing and digging his thumbs into the ancient thing’s eyes, and roughly pushing it away as it screamed in pain.

As the injured vamp rolled on the ground, writhing in agony, the other advanced on him.

“So, you wanna give it a go too? Seeing your mate on the ground not enough to scare you off, eh?” Spike circled his opponent, looking for a point of weakness. Finding none, he looked for his best opportunity to attack. “Not the most hospitable to your kinfolk are you?” Spike snarked, then shifted his features to show them he was not human. “See? Can’t you sense we are of the same blood?” His adversary roared as if provoked.

Suddenly, the vamp attacked, lunging for Spike’s neck. Spike was unable to avoid the attack and landed roughly on his back, a growling beast gnashing its razor sharp teeth inches from his neck.

Grunting and struggling to get some sort of leverage, Spike was inching his pinned hands up the attacker’s chest. Once he reached its neck, Spike did all that might possibly save him. Grasping the leathery head of the prehistoric vamp with both hands, he gave it a quick and severe twist to the left. That was all it took. In a cloud of dust, it was gone.

Spike stood, dusting himself off, and walked over to the injured vamp that was no longer writhing on the ground, but getting up–its eyes already beginning to heal. “Not so fast there, great-great-great-great granddad. Let me help you up.” Repeating his actions with the first vampire, he grabbed and twisted, effectively decapitating the second vamp.

Spike knew he needed to seek shelter until the sun rose, so back to the top of the hill once more he went, only this time there was no more saving ungrateful cave brats.


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Buffy woke with a start, and—unsure of what had woken her—quickly armed herself. She sensed something, and she thought she heard screaming in the distance. Her heart pounding within the young cave girl’s body, she struggled to calm herself, realizing there was no immediate danger.

“What is it, child? Are you ill?” Groma could see the perspiration glistening on her daughter’s brow in the flickering light of their fire.

“No, Groma. I’m fine. The night sounds just woke me.” Buffy smiled at Groma, who was settling back under her furs, but keeping alert as well. “Go back to sleep, I will stand guard until I am sure the threat is not close.”

Stoking the fire, Buffy finally calmed and sat listening to the night outside their small cave; animals scurrying below, owl-like birds crying out into the darkness. Those were normal sounds of that land. Still, something had her on alert.

Staring into the fire, mesmerized by the dancing flames, Buffy thought of her previous life. She missed her life, even with all the chaos that came with it. She remembered her last days, before Willow’s spell. And Spike.

She closed her eyes to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. She had tried so hard not to think of him, not to think of how she hadn’t told him of her request to Willow, how hurt he had to be.

Buffy’s hand once more came to rest on her belly. It was just beginning to swell with life, something she was now grateful to be a part of, but wished she had someone to share it with.

Spike…

Tears fell freely, as she silently wept for her loss. She knew now that her place was there. Groma was aging, and Buffy had noticed that she was having difficulty with getting around lately. Arthritis, I think. Her knuckles swell and she seems to be in pain a lot. She never complains to me, but she struggles with even getting to our cave. If only we didn’t have to be so high on the bluff. Groma’s health was just a small worry added to her long list. She remembered her own mother, and her painful illness. How she hadn’t complained, then one day… she was gone. What will I do if something happens to Groma?

Buffy forced those thoughts out of her head. She needed rest. Climbing back under her furs, she fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of her lost life.



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Willow watched the Beast circle her, obviously pondering her punishment. I must stay strong, mustn’t let him know he’s breaking me. Surely I have some spell that will allow my escape.

The Beast stopped, raised one finger and pointed it at Willow’s face. She cringed, unintentionally, and it was not lost on it.

“I see you try to fake your strength—even in the presence of true power—yet I smell your fear oozing from every pore of your pale human skin,” it roared in laughter and swiped his long, clawed finger through the air.

Willow was slashed with an invisible supernatural force. Her blouse ripped, and blood beaded up in the long cut from her cheek to her torso. A whimper escaped her as the demon it cut its gnarled, finger through the air, slicing through her clothes and skin once more.

The unseen attack continued till Willow’s body was completely naked and bleeding, still suspended in the center of the room. She continued to hold back her tears, pleading with her own conscience to be strong.

“Flaying is such a lost art. Don’t you think, witch?” The Beast admired his work, circling her once more. Another wave of his hand and a long thin strip of Willows skin slowly fell away from her now bloody body, making a sickening wet sound as it hit the concrete floor beneath her.

The skinning continued over the next few hours. Willow passed out several times from the pain, bringing the torture to a pause until the Beast knew she was awake and they could continue.

Her lack of response and failure to break had the Beast reconsider his punishment. When she woke again, he tried something new.

Standing close enough to touch her now, it plunged its hands into the sides of her head. Willow screamed out at the invasion. “Now,” it said, wiggling his fingers around her brain, “Let’s find out what’s important to you in your pathetic little life.”

Withdrawing its fingers, it laughed. “Seems that you have a few things you value. This one looks like it might be entertaining.” Pacing in front of the barely lucid witch, it said one more word. “Tara…”

Willow tried to scream; only no sound came from her mouth.