full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
Ancient shades by Kur
 
12
 
<<     >>
 
CHAPTER 12

The persistent ring of the phone woke her up. Still half asleep Buffy walked towards it and was about to take it when her hand vacillated on the receiver. She couldn’t answer… It could be them… After breaking into her own house, she had crashed on the couch and fell asleep. She hadn’t even taken a shower. She hadn’t even cried. Hadn’t even thought. Her entire body was an untamed knot of entangled muscles that struggled among them to pull in different sides. Her head had that constant pulsating throb… as if a woodpecker had nested inside her skull. The world was wrapped in a haze. She couldn’t walk, only shuffle like an old, ill woman.

The phone finally stopped. Buffy went back to the sofa. Her eyelids weighted like lead bricks. She was amazed of how it was possible for her to sleep. But grief had that merciful side. A comforting embrace when everything had exploded around her feet. When nothing was the same anymore. His presence lingered everywhere. On the couch, on the cushions, on the carpet. Standing next to the fireplace. There was a permanent burnt mark on the coffee table. One of his cigarettes. The little porcelain girl that looked sadly at her from the mantelpiece had her tiny neck glued. One of his elbows. The TV was a black monster with one blind, black eye. His lips and hands, his moans and whispers were hidden behind her eyelids. She could feel him, touch him, taste him with only closing her eyes. In her dreams.


This time the sound was an imperative one. Buffy jumped on the sofa, clutching a cushion like a shield. Dawn drew thin, violet lines on the closed shutters. That knock again. The door… She tiptoed towards the door and crouched there as if she was about to pray. Her eye peeped through the keyhole. A stripped sweater greeted her with its strident colours. She opened the door, just a crack from where she could grab Xander’s arm and throw him inside.

“Why didn’t you…? Holy Moly! You really look like… if you were sleeping.” He quickly changed before a fist could connect with his flesh. Chicks didn’t like to hear they didn’t look like a fairy-tale princess. How many times had he recited that? He was learning, though. Just in time.

“Somebody followed you?” Buffy rejected the crisps bag. Only thinking of food made her stomach churn.

“No. It’s only six in the morning… But I thought I had to talk to you. Just to…” He avoided her reddish eyes and headed to the living room. Standing beside the couch he was about to sit down when he changed his mind and fell on one of the armchairs. “I’ve been talking to Oz last night. He told me… And I thought…”
“Why don’t you just say it? Say that Willow is in danger because of me. Just spit what you want to say and leave me alone!” Her wide eyes showed all the horror she felt for treating one of her friends like that. But she couldn’t help it. She was a pressure cooker that had been forgotten over the stove.

“Hey, not the accusation gang here! But I’m worried! And you don’t look like if you were… Maybe after all that happened you’re exhausted. Take out the maybe.” His pitiful gaze was more than she could bear. “All I’m saying is that maybe you need a holiday. You know, to clear your head…”

Buffy’s clenched fist stopped two inches away from Xander’s gaping mouth. “My head is okay. Don’t ever say that again.” Words sounded like grinded stone. “I’m not mad!”

“I didn’t mean… But I can’t believe a word Oz told me! Shit! I didn’t even know you were seeing that fucking killer again! How could you? How can you? They should have put him down when they had the chance…”

And there it was. The pressure cooker had had enough hot steam to send it flying into the air. Frantic sobs shook her so intensely that she fell to the floor in a puddle; her arms wrapped against her bursting stomach. What a wretched excuse of a warrior she was! Crying, choking, with her guts twisted in a seething knot, scared and lost.

Giles had always been there to help her. To guide her along the hard of slaying. Even if he had done certain things, following Council orders. In the end, all he had done was protect her. Pushing the final signal stop forward just for her death point to be as far as possible. A father figure she had said. It was so right! She felt as if she had lost her dad twice. One, she could catch a plane and go visit. Watch his eyes, the little wrinkles around them when he smiled. Smell his aftershave; listen to his voice on the phone saying Happy Birthday even if it came with bad news. But Giles… not lights would ever reflect again in his glasses. The sound of his voice would be a faded memory the next year.

She would never be able to watch girly movies with Willow. Or going to the mall to buy shoes or clothes for the next Bronze night. They wouldn’t eat chocolate ice cream anymore while they sat on the couch with a blanket spread on their legs. Nobody would ever share with her hidden secrets of sexual affairs. She wouldn’t laugh or blush whenever the stories got hotter enough to embarrass her and there wasn’t going to be a Willow with green half shocked eyes to listen to her.

And Spike… would they kill him after playing with him in ways she wasn’t prepared to consider? Would they be that merciful? How could she carry on without his naughty smiles, his indecent and arousing remarks, his hungry and adoring eyes? Every bath she would take, every time she’ put on one of her panties, he’d be there asking what colour it was. His hands would slide along her skin the moment she closed her eyes. His voice would always whisper in her ears, his perfume would cover her entire life. She pictured herself sniffing around in the streets, in a mall, everywhere, when a similar scent passed by her. Jumping to the ceilings every time she’d hear a British voice. Her skin would flake and die without his fingers. Her mouth would be always thirsty without his kisses.

“Buff, Buff… I’m sorry…” Xander tried to hold her but she avoided his hands and sat on the coffee table. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” He’d like to fly away like a small sparrow and never came back. Buffy’s state scared him even more than Willow’s fate. How was she going to rescue Willow if she was such a ruin? “Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see. Remember how scared we were when you had to fight Angelus for the first time? And you beat him. Sent him straight to hell. And when you got lost in Halloween? We’re terrified that you might be… you know… And suddenly… phhh… you were back with us. And that time in which you…”

He’d thought that enumerating her countless victories would soothe her somehow. Would give her some of her lost strength or some peace of mind. He never expected that hallucinated gaze. As though his words had hypnotized her or something worse.

All of a sudden she jumped to her feet and grabbed a coat. She stopped at the door and turned round to face him, still sitting on the armchair. “I’ve got to go to Willow’s house. Want to come?”




No wonder lions wandered around in circles all day long. Spike was sure his boots would tear apart if he took another circle around that room. That bitch had left him there, the shackles still in place but no searing lights this time. Only a yellow bulb which lit his frantic pace with a dull eye. There was a sort of bed in one corner, a reddish blanket on it. Another of those known iron bars on the ceiling and a chain attached to a hook. A hose wiggled on the floor. A green hose with black stripes. He’d have probably told how many stripes it had. The mug Faith had offered was still on a small table in one corner. The red liquid had turned into a sticky jelly last time he had checked.

The door flew opened and Faith came in carrying a bucket and an impressive crossbow. He’d never seen one of that size in his life. The Magnum 44 of crossbows. He gulped a chuckle and smirked instead. His eyes followed the bucket to the floor. Stupid bint. He was dead. Couldn’t drown even if he tried hard.

“Better, handsome?” Grabbing one of the hose ends, she went to one of the walls and lifted a metal tap. The one hundred and fifty-six stripes were connected to a faucet. The green hose began to spit water. “Think so, without those blinding lights and the boring company… Not to talk about the cot… Does it squeal?”

“Would you if I squeeze your neck?” In spite of the shackles he leant against the wall with his arms folded on his chest.

Faith only smiled and threw something at him. Spike caught the key in the air and arched his eyebrow.

“Take them off. Take all off.” The strong remark on the “all” didn’t leave any doubts. He stared at the crossbow without moving an inch.

“I’m not your whore, bitch.”

“No, you’re only Buffy’s bitch, aren’t you Big Bad? Such a vampire you are…”

“Take that out of my bloody face and I’ll show you what a vampire I can be.” He rebuffed, starting to lose his patience. And this was all they had in mind? No big plot to conquer the world but to have their own private sex-toys? And some called him pathetic…

“Oh, I’m sure about that. Now take them off. Be nice. I don’t really want to hurt you. Just check why B. has chosen you…”

“Want to have a peek, babe? Come here and take them off. If you dare…”

Faith shook her head and a gloomy spark clouded her eyes. “I knew you were going to be a stubborn little demon. You’ll beg me to take those clothes off you.”

“Huuuh, I can’t wait…” He challenged as she tossed aside the weapon and raised the bucket.

The splash soaked his red shirt, his Tee and his black jeans. Spike looked down. The world stopped and the yelling started. Holy water… His mind couldn’t begin to process the notion. Crazy maggots were drilling his flesh searching for his bones. The pain was unbearable, excruciating. A mist surrounded him and his eyes couldn’t focus on Faith anymore but on his own smoking skin.

“Now you want me to take them off?” Her voice had the sinister ring of a cruel, mad child.
Spike couldn’t speak. His muscles had tensed to an impossible arc; his teeth gritted together as if he was chewing sand. “I can’t hear you… Okay then.” She walked towards the door.

“Fuck…fucking…bitch!” he stuttered in agony. “Yes! Take them off now! For Christ sake, TAKE THEM OFF!”

A pair of hands tore the shirt and the Tee apart and a welcomed flow of ordinary water from the hose cleaned the remains of his jeans. Opened, horrid gashes, holes and welts hissed and bellowed in pain. His mind was spinning so fast that he fell to the floor. Didn’t take notice of the lack of shackles or the hands that lay him down on the bed. He wanted to die. Again and again and again. Wouldn’t be that painful.

“Oh, poor boy. Look at you now… Bet B. wouldn’t like you like this… Don’t worry, though. I’ll take care of you.” She promised kneeling down by his side to take off the last shreds of denim. “I will always take care of you.” She whispered, kissing the cold tears that ran along his cheeks.




“So, this is what dating bleached guy had taught you?” Xander couldn’t help the sarcastic remark. It pushed and pushed against his teeth and he’d to let it out. “Breaking into people’s houses…”

“Sometimes is very useful.” Buffy replied, giving Willow’s bedroom door a final flick before stepping inside.

“And we are here because? Not that her parents will listen to us or anything since they are in Europe but… Jail doesn’t suit me.”

“Does Willow still keeps a magic diary? You know, she’s always writing even the slightest thing in her computer.” Turning on the machine, she checked the different folders. “Hey, did you know she keeps every school task in here? Isn’t enough to give it in when you’ve finished with it? Oh, shit. Password here.”

Putting aside a pink cushion, Xander sat on the edge of the bed staring at Buffy’s back. Boy, wasn’t she moody? One moment she was crying the guts out of her and the other was chatting about stupid school stuff. He didn’t know how a computer was going to help Willow but Buffy’s hunches had proved to be right most of the time. And he was her friend in spite of a serial killer bunking her up… Cancel that thought... In spite of her wobbly mind-set, that’s it. Friends were supposed to be there not matter what and there he was. Coping and helping. “Must be the magic stuff then. We could shout open sesame or something.”

Buffy smiled a little and that thrilled and encouraged her for the first time. If she could smile then she could rise to her feet and kick that world upside down. And bring all those she loved back to her bosom. Keeping the confident mood, she wrote “Abracadabra” and the folder opened up like a casket of secrets. Alphabetical order… Oh, Willow! You’re the best! H, h, h. Halloween. A full detailed tale of what had happened. With a little changes of course. Every time she read Wyndham-Pryce instead of Giles her smile quavered a bit. But the whole lot was almost the same. The words for casting the spell, the way she had opened the portal, the list of required ingredients. Everything with a typical Willow quote like “The only snag is the starch word. Sounded like a poem. Must be stardust. Or starch for stiffen the whole thing? Hmmm, look it up.” And the most important one. “Mr. Pryce had commissioned (his words there. Isn’t he stuffy?) me the spell thing ‘cause he hasn’t been in touch with magic for a while and this needs extra magic-dealing powers. Not that he knows about the other stuff I’ve been dealing with… Think I should erase this last sentence…”

“So, - Xander peeped over Buffy’s shoulder, - something we can use?”

“If we have a witch at hand, maybe. Or a demon. Or somebody used to perform spells…” Her eyes widened as an idea twinkled in her head. A, a, a. Yes! Anyanka. Former vengeance demon.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” Xander stepped back a little when she twirled around with a stormy look. “Sorry. I’ll never say that again. Promise. But she’s the most annoying creature in the world! Not to mention that he’s always horny! Well, that’s what I’ve heard…”

Second smile in less than an hour. She was definitely improving. “Maybe it’s been enough of skiving off. School is waiting for you. Grab your books.”

tbc...
 
<<     >>