Brilliant banner by xaphania


Chapter 21


The tires of his car screeched when he brought it to an abrupt halt in front of an abandoned building on the outskirts of Bath. It would do for now. Spike rested his forehead against the steering wheel, contemplating the wisdom of his decision. Deep in his heart, he was well aware of making a mistake that could change his existence. He’d probably be dust floating in the wind once she recognized what he was.


He didn’t have a choice.


Not after what had happened with Dru a week ago. Darla and Dru were content if not surprised to see him so soon after his departure, but beside the expected mockery of his cowardice, they had welcomed him without question. They didn’t know of course. Had no idea that he couldn’t kill the Slayer for one simple reason, yet so staggering in its complexity.


The Slayer and Buffy were one and the same.


He’d sworn to himself that he’d keep away. He’d had a plan. A good one. Stay with his family; continue on as if the epiphany of her being alive had never been dropped on his head. It would have been so much easier to stay on the path of bloodshed, the only path he’d walked for the past year and eleven months. He’d fled Bath only to return because everything in him screamed to be near her.


But it was something else that had pushed him over the edge.


'A week ago'


Drusilla danced her way towards him, twirling so fast it made his head spin. Mud painted her bare feet, staining the edges of her long black silky dress. The grass of the meadow was slippery from the rain pouring from the heavens above, and he expected her to slip at any moment.


“I reckon we should find a shelter,” he said, wiping his face only to have the rain splatter his skin again. The clothes hung heavily on his frame, making his step heavy.


Drusilla only laughed and skipped towards him, purring in his ear. “Don’t be so glum. Mice shall have a party when the cat’s away.” She licked the rain from his cheek. “It’s too early.”


Darla had left them to their own devices today, saying she needed some alone time. Which probably meant she was at the apartment with a string of willing men ready to do her bidding and didn’t want to share with Drusilla.


Spike let out a sigh. “Dru…”


She shook her head. “We shall play. To chase the blue fish away from you. There are so many,” she said in a dreamy voice, and in a blink, she was gone.


He cursed and chased after her, the water sluicing into his eyes making it difficult for him to see her properly. She glanced over her shoulder, not in the least bit bothered by the unforgiving weather. Her dress was soaked through, molding itself to her thin frame. Being Dru, she had forgone the underwear. Not that Spike could throw any stones.


She stopped abruptly and turned to face him with that evil glint in her eye that he was so familiar with. Her body swayed and she arched her back with a moan.


“There’s a trespasser in our castle. Naughty, naughty dolly.”


She wandered over to a nearby tree and pulled someone out. Spike had a second to realize the shaking form belonged to a child. The little girl couldn’t have been older than five and had probably wandered off from the nearby houses then got lost.


Spike stood there frozen for a second, his demon roaring at the sound of the frantic heartbeat. He could almost taste the mesmerizing energy of life thrumming through the girl’s veins. Even knowing how wrong it was to hunger for her blood didn’t stop the demon from wanting it. A spark of uncertainty lanced through his heart.


Drusilla sank to her knees and caressed the girl’s cheek, offering a false sense of security that Spike knew for a fact would be mercilessly ripped away in a few moments. The girl gazed up at her with eyes filled with hope.


“What’s your name, poppet?” Drusilla asked.


“Anne.”


“You’re a little sunshine, aren’t you? A sweet little thing. Like an ice cream cone.”


Spike squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching and even though the bloodlust flashed brightly through his veins, this was different. It was a child.


A little girl.


For some reason, it made all the difference now. He was a vampire and felt no remorse for the lives he’d taken, but… It was just a kid.


Drusilla had coerced the child into her lap, stroking the girl’s wet auburn hair as she sang her a lullaby. The child’s face was hidden in Drusilla’s shoulder, the tiny neck right under Drusilla’s lips. Unbeknownst to Anne, the arms holding her belonged to a predator, and Spike’s eyes met Drusilla’s just as they melted into the golden gleam of the demon. He burst into motion, set on freeing the child from Drusilla’s grasp, but she was a step ahead of him. With a wicked smile, she ripped her fangs into the child’s artery, viciously tearing her throat open just as Spike reached them.


The girl let out a gurgling noise, a scream lodged in her throat as Dru laughed and tossed her aside. Spike stared at the spectacle, horrified as the girl bled to death, her small fingers twitching as she fought to take in a breath. The smell of her tears speared through the oppressive stench of the rain as it washed away the signs of Drusilla’s cruelty.


There was a gaping hole in the child’s throat, the tendons and muscles completely shredded and having seen it so many times before didn’t stop his stomach from recoiling now. Drusilla giggled and lay on her back with a satisfied smile.


Spike couldn’t stand there like that anymore and knelt down. The little Anne stared at him, her eyes wide with terror, and he closed his own eyes shut as he gently cradled her head, twisting it to rid her off her misery.


'Now'


He hadn’t been able to close his eyes without seeing the little girl’s face, feeling something like guilt prickling at his non-existent conscience. He gritted his teeth. Why did he feel it? It wasn’t like he hadn’t caused a fair share of murder and maiming himself. Why the hell was this any different?


Why did he suddenly feel as if the human part of him had woken from a deep slumber? He’d repressed it so well, stomped on it until there was nothing left but the vampire.


Spike stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. The gravel scrunched beneath his heavy boots as he made his way towards the front door of the house and broke his way inside.


The dam separating his humanity from the demon had been cracking for so long that he failed to see the warnings. He was soulless and cruel, but the sound of the child’s neck snapping under his hands still woke him up in the middle of the day. He couldn’t abide feeling this way.


Something had to change.


*******


The dreams kept swarming her subconscious. The memories of William that always ended up with him fading into the shadows though he didn’t talk to her. Not like that one time she dreamed of his arms slipping from around her waist. It had felt so real, but the things he’d said…


So convinced she wouldn’t love him.


Trying to change the memorized dialogue proved to be futile. It was like talking to a moving picture that went on without stopping in pace. Other times she was merely a spectator of the scene going on in front of her, starved to catch his every smile, every nuance of his face as the memory played out between him and the dream copy of herself.


But as she sneaked her way into Giles’ study, her hands sweating, Buffy knew that the part with her Watcher hiding behind the mask stayed the same for a reason. A reason she couldn’t fully comprehend, yet she was determined to unveil and put her fears to rest once and for all.


Eyes darting around, she slipped inside and closed the door quietly behind her.


Whatever it was he’d been hiding, it had something to do with the clan of Aurelius. Buffy just knew. She’d kept asking about them, paying even more attention to his avoiding gaze and nervous ticks. She knew he loved her but his protectiveness was started to grate on her nerves. The only thing he ever told her were the atrocities they had committed, going even as far as drawing gruesome sketches.


But there was something more he wasn’t telling her beside their location. What was he lying to her about?


The papers on Giles’ desk were perfectly organized. His obsession with having important documents organized alphabetically would surely prove to be his undoing one day. He should at least have it in some secret code.


Buffy rounded the desk, where he kept his written notes since she had no interest in the history and demonology books. And he sure wouldn’t keep it out in the open, so the only place he’d hide it would be…


'Score!'


She knelt down and tried all the drawers. The bottom one had been locked. This had to be it. Her heart started hammering as she closed her hand around the handle and broke it.


'Yay for Slayer strength.'


A journal was inside, the leather cover smooth from the constant use and Buffy pulled it out. Pressing her back against the desk’s shelves, she flipped it open and recognized Giles’ writing.


'Ugh, he’s worse than me.'


To be able to read it, she had to squint. She’d start with the last few months. Surely there would be a mention of the Aurelians, and she could finally understand Giles’ strange behaviour.


For maybe half an hour, Buffy skimmed the contents for something that would give her clues, but all she found were pages filled with Watcher talk that made her tired eyes hurt from the effort. She was starting to get frustrated.


Buffy covered her mouth when she yawned, and her eyes promptly widened as she came upon a paragraph that made coldness wrap around her insides.


'All my research and information many of my trusted colleagues provided points to my worst nightmares. I fear for my Slayer’s life were she ever to find out the truth. The truth that a boy she still holds so dear to her heart was turned into a monster set upon her destruction. William Pratt is Spike.'


The journal slipped from Buffy’s numb fingers.


TBC


Author's note: What could possibly happen next? ;)