Author's note: Symbolism alert for this chapter. :D I'll explain the less obvious ones that I can remember off the top of my head. Mmm... snake in this case is a symbol of rebirth, the pond or any still water is a symbol of death and labyrinth represents search for an internal balance or soul. There are other like crooked path, white flower and such but I'm sure you can figure those out because you're clever! :)

Beta'd by dawnofme and Mabel Marsters, two lovely ladies.

Disclaimer: Can I own Spike? No?! Damn.





Look at how beautiful this banner is! Xaphania made it. :)


Chapter 20


Buffy heard a twig snap and shot to her feet, turning in the direction of the disturbance. As she stepped closer, her senses went haywire and she grasped the stake in her palm, the solid weight of the wood a welcome comfort. That strange feeling of being followed intensified as she approached and then as suddenly as it came to her, it disappeared, leaving her oddly bereft.


With furrowed brows, Buffy tucked the stake into the pocket of her jacket and headed out of the cemetery.


The uneasy feeling followed her all the way home.


*******


Buffy pulled on her yummy sushi pajamas and collapsed on the bed with a happy sigh. Her muscles ached as she stretched out her arms and crawled beneath the covers. The extra patrols took a lot out of her lately and she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.


A hand closed around her shoulder and Buffy’s heart started pounding against her ribcage before she whirled around to face the potential threat.


It was just Faith.


“You scared me,” Buffy said and clutched at her chest, laughing in relief.


“Didn’t mean to.” The corner of her mouth curled up in a smile. “We’re sisters.”


“In more ways than one.” Even as Buffy said it, the undeniable truth of the statement hit her as hard as a punch to the stomach would. “You could be just like me.”


“That’s what Giles said, yeah.” Faith slung her arm around Buffy’s shoulders and smiled. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it though. I can’t ever fill your shoes.”


“Would you want to?”


Faith fell quiet, thinking, the moonlight above reflecting off her dark hair as she shook her head. “I might have…if things were different. But not now. Not like this.”


Buffy nodded, accepting her words as they walked down a crooked path. Trees swayed in a gentle breeze, branches creaking, leaves shuffling restlessly. Buffy tilted her head back to stare at the moon.


It wasn’t full yet, but it would be soon.


“Where are we going?”


Faith shrugged, her arm slipping from around Buffy’s shoulders. “It’s not up to me.”


“Not leading me into another disaster of a blind date, are you?”


“Well, there was a dude I think you should meet.”


Buffy groaned, stopping in her stride to face Faith. “I’m not really looking for anything right now. Maybe it’ll be better for me… to be just with me. Okay, that sounded kind of wrong but you know what I mean.”


Faith snickered and nodded as a white flower materializing in her hand, the petals ready to bloom. “Did you drop this?”


Buffy rolled her eyes, a sigh of exasperation whooshing past her lips. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you. Would you stop with the cryptic?”


“Goes with the territory. Don’t kill the messenger and all that.” The flower in her hand withered and died, the petals turning black at the edges before falling off completely.


“It didn’t even have the chance to bloom,” Buffy said with a frown, staring at the ground littered by shriveled petals.


As soon as Buffy looked up, Faith seemed to have disappeared, the clearing shifting and molding into a forest though the path under her feet stayed the same. A shiver ran up her spine, goose bumps erupting on her flesh. Someone was there, watching her. The same feeling of being pinned by an intense gaze swept over her and she found herself staring through the thick darkness to pinpoint the source.


For a moment, Buffy wished Faith had stayed to keep her company. Help her feel less alone.


Always alone.


For some reason, she was reluctant to step off the path. Her body tensed at the thought of losing herself in the vastness of the woods, not being able to find her way back. She walked down the walkway, idly kicking the stones with the toe of her shoe.


She came to an end in front of a door. The hinges screeched as she pushed it open and entered. It took Buffy a while to find her way through the old-fashioned room cluttered with books and high shelves. The room smelled of crisp laundry and old parchment, that sweet antique smell of it permeating the air. She swept her fingers along the edge of a bookcase and walked down the length of it until she reached a big mahogany desk. The armchair behind it swung around, briefly reminding Buffy of all those villain-like cheesy scenes in even cheesier movies, but she didn’t feel threatened by the person sitting in it.


“I’m doing this for your good. I’m trying to protect you,” the person said, and even though Buffy couldn’t see his face for the mask concealing it from her, she’d know his voice anywhere.


“What is it that you’re hiding from me, Giles?”


“You’re not ready to know.”


She beat down the urge to stomp her feet in a show of petulant anger and instead pressed her lips in a taut line. “I am! Whatever it is that you’re keeping from me, I can handle. Haven’t I proven I’m strong enough?”


“I’m doing this for your own good,” he repeated.


Buffy wanted walk around the desk and slap him.


“Shouldn’t I be the judge of what’s good for me?”


He ducked his head to stare at the book with image of a snake etched upon its cover. He traced the lines with his forefinger. “Sometimes, what we believe to be true is merely a matter of our perception. Death. Life. It’s all relative.”


The snake on the cover seemed to come to life right before her eyes, and Buffy stumbled backwards in shock, falling into the bottomless void of blackness. The expected impact of hitting the ground never came. She gasped when she suddenly found herself sitting on grass, the coldness seeping into her skin from the ground beneath her. The wind swept through her hair but the surface of the murky waters of the pond before her never moved. She stepped to the edge of it, peering down into its obsidian depths but never seeing the bottom. Murmurs of voices seemed to surround the dark mass of water, and Buffy backed away.


The sky seemed to have lightened, locked between the world of shadows and light. For the second time, Buffy was startled as someone touched her shoulder. She knew who the hand belonged to without having to turn around. Her throat started to burn, unshed tears dampening her eyelashes.


“William,” she breathed, her heart constricting at the ache of being close to him. Even if he was a mirage.


His arms sneaked around her waist possessively, and she leaned into against his chest without any hesitation. She never knew such solace outside of his embrace.


His breath was cool against her ear. “Are you afraid of the lake?”


Her forehead creased as she pondered his question. Why would he ask her that? What was there to be afraid of? “Are you?”


He sighed and kissed her temple. “Went swimming in it once. Think I could do it again, I’d seek it even.”


“That good, hmm?”


He stiffened behind her, his arms closing around her even tighter. “Not really. But it’s better than not being able to hold you like this.”


“But you’re holding me right now. You’re here, aren’t you?”


“Am I?”


The question was dangerous enough to stop her world from spinning, to shatter the illusion she was desperately clinging to as she folded her arms over his to hold onto him.


Holding onto a ghost.


“Yes, you are! I can feel you!” A tear slid down her cheek, and her breath got caught in her throat. “I can feel you,” she whispered, the solidity of the belief crumbling as he began to slip away, his lack of presence like a sheet of cold rain against her back.


She spun around, her gaze fixed of his form half-covered by shadows. She wished she could see his face. “It’s that easy for you? To just leave me?” she screamed, emotions running rampant, despair licking at her heart. “How could you?”


“I can’t… I shouldn’t… Buffy, why would you want me to taint you? So many things have changed and still… fuck, I’m still so weak. Too weak to stay away from you.”


“Then don’t. I need you! Even like this. I’ll take anything I can get.” She stepped closer, but with her every step, he took one away from her. “Please.”


“I’m not the man you love. I’m a shadow. A bloody shadow!”


“No. That’s not true. I’ll always love you. No matter what.”


He laughed emotionlessly, the sound chilling her to the marrow of her bones. “You wouldn’t.”


The harsh unyielding conviction behind his statement stunned her. Before she could retort, the darkness of the night fell over them and he retreated into the shadows. Buffy ran. Her feet pounded, branches of the trees scratched against her skin as she chased him through the labyrinth. Her breath came in short gasps, heart hammering from exertion and adrenaline pumping through her veins. If he thought she’d just give up and let him disappear then he really didn’t know her at all. She kept running, ignoring the burning muscles of her thighs, breaking past her limitations as she ducked around the labyrinth’s twists and turns, always catching a glimpse of his back but never getting close enough to reach him.


“William, stop!”


He didn’t.


Buffy tripped over a fallen branch, and her body was hurtling forward when she awoke with a gasp, tumbling out of her bed.


Her hands shook as she picked herself up and curled up on the bed, trying to breathe through the pain of losing him all over again.


*******


Spike stirred awake, the sound of her frantic heartbeat still echoing loudly in his ears. He picked himself off the floor, sidestepping the mess he’d made. Bits of broken furniture that had fallen victim to his rage were scattered on the floor.


The mattress dipped beneath his weight, the smell of a cheap motel laundry agent assaulting his nostrils as he buried his face in a pillow. The dream had felt so real, the hope her words had instilled too much for him to bear.


((“I’ll always love you. No matter what.”))


So he’d ran. Like the coward he was.


He’d been dreaming of bloodshed when the dream tilted off its axis and he found himself standing behind her, her scent swamping his senses. How wrong she was to think her love would last once she found out what he truly was.


They had been driven to the opposite edges, divided by an infinite crater of the fate’s making. A crater he’d further dug out by his own actions. Buffy was alive, and it was his fault he’d never touch her skin again, never sample her delicious lips.


He’d been hurtled far too deep into the world painted by blood of the innocent, the ground paved by their torment. Could he even find his way back out again? Into the world where she lived? What if he could no longer judge what was wrong and what was right? The lines had blurred a long time ago and there was no going back.


Spike knew he ought to flee, to put as much distance between him and Buffy to spare her further grief. He’d find Darla and Dru and stay away, longing from a distance even if it broke his heart. Give up on the idea of someone as pure as her being tied to a monster like him.


The question was, for how long could he withstand the selfish need to track her down and claim her as his?


TBC