Chapter 28—Roof Of The Night

Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night—Pink Floyd, “Learning To Fly”

Hours later, she was still giggling. It would hit her suddenly and the laughter would start. She would end up rolling on the floor, holding her stomach that was sorer than if she’d fought a dozen vamps. Helpless tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, but the situation was too priceless.

On opposite ends of the couch, watching her mirth at their expense, were a perturbed Watcher and a pissed-off vampire. They had given up telling her to stop long ago. It was futile to hope that she would find less humor in the situation as the hours passed, her bouts of humor starting soon after the last.

Spike was Giles' uncle, many times removed, a situation that made Giles extremely uncomfortable, and Spike extremely smug. At least, at first. Now, he wasn’t so certain.

As soon as the sun had set, he grabbed his duster and left the house. He headed to his crypt; he hadn’t been there in ages, and he hoped that Clem had continued his occasional stays to keep out squatters.

He kicked open the door, relieved to see things as he left them, with the exception of the half-eaten bag of Cheetos evidence that Clem had been around lately. He moved quickly to the trapdoor leading to the cavern below, and dropped down onto the raised platform base. Eschewing light, he vamped out to look for a particular feature in the cavern.

He moved quickly to the far wall, and reached his hand up and over into a small niche in the wall. His hand closed around the desired object and he brought it out into the dark before him. He opened it and the scents of a lifetime filled his nostrils, swirling maniacally in his brain, calling forth memories he’d thought long forgotten.

In the bottom of the box, a ring, dragged off his sister’s finger by a dishonest undertaker. Of a singular design he’d created himself, he had twisted it off the ugly man’s wife with low-toned accusations and threats, barely hearing the man’s stammered excuse of finding it after the funeral.

A single, perfect amethyst rose in the center, held in place by two full bloom roses, one of silver and one of gold. Entwined stems formed the band; leaves curled up on either side of the stone to embrace the points of the marquise cut.

He looked at the ring, and thought of the hand he’d created it for. He hadn’t thought of her in over a hundred years.

He closed his golden eyes, and could see her slender hands, creating finer embroideries than the noblest of women; her laughing hazel eyes, her lips pressed tightly together, for it was unseemly for a lady to laugh out loud in mixed company. Her head bent, she would listen to the talk after dinner, her eyes bowed but her ears missing nothing.

His heart ached as he thought of Johanna for the first time in a century. He’d gone by her grave, as well as his mother’s empty plot, the last time he’d been in England, but that had been well over fifty years ago. The time passes, sometimes quickly and sometimes slow, and you learn with the age that things matter less, people matter more…time stretched, and he was lonely in a crowd.

He marveled at the way he felt. Changed. Different. He thought about the lust for violence that seemed to dominate his unlife, almost since his making. He had devoted himself to the thought of being in love with someone unable to love him in return. Devoted years to someone who….

No. He wasn’t dwelling on Drusilla or the past. She wasn’t worth it, after so long. Buffy surpassed her in every way. His goddess. His beloved.

He pushed the ring into his blue jeans pocket, and tucked the box into the pocket of his duster. He tried to toss off the nostalgia that was suffusing him, but it wouldn’t loose its grip. He meant the words he’d said to Giles that afternoon. The blasted pledge. Who could have known it would survive after so many years?

He knew that Giles wondered why he threw it away for the unlife of a vampire. Money, privilege, a modicum of power, enough to satisfy any young man on the breech of independence, as he had been. How do you explain how bloody boring it all was? Day after day, the same thing repeated, until they put you in the ground with whatever killed you—consumption, heart attack, or murder.

He stretched his senses, and felt Drusilla down the sire bond. She was far away and ignored his seeking tendrils of awareness, turning her back on her lost childe. Good. Didn’t want her anyway. No, the one he needed to talk with was further on, and he touched him, brushed against him with his mind, calling to his demon, and Angel lifted his head, miles away in Los Angeles.

He’d better get back to the house; Angel would be calling him soon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy opened the envelope, removing the contents and strewing them across her bed. On closer examination, she found everything in order; green card, birth certificate, passport, diplomas—everything that she had asked Giles for, and more.

There was nothing standing in their way now. They could marry and have a life together, without the Council, without the Aurelians, without any hindrances.

She wondered how Dawn and Tara would feel about traveling. She hoped they would come with them. Leave Sunnydale, all the memories good and bad, and take to the road to see the world. The only thing to do was to ask them.

Leaving the papers scattered on her bed, she bounced down the hall into Dawn's room, not bothering to knock. “Dawn, how—” Her mouth dropped open and no other sound emerged when she saw the tableau before her.

Her sister and Tara locked in a passionate embrace. Dawn's one eye, visible just past Tara's tilted head, open and staring at Buffy.

Daring her to interrupt.

She turned and closed the door quietly behind her, then beelined back to her room. She so didn’t want to see her sixteen-year-old sister getting it on with one of her friends. Her female friends. Especially Tara.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike answered the phone on the first ring. “Spike.”

“What do you want, childe?” Angel’s voice was tinged with hate and jealousy, but it didn’t make Spike flinch as it had before. He didn’t flinch; he was beyond all that.

“I wanted to invite you to the joining of the house of Summers and the house of Aurelius. And I need to ask you some things.”

There was cold silence on the other end of the receiver. “You have the audacity to invite me to the joining of the houses with the woman that I intended for my mate?” Angel snapped, his control failing and his demonic face coming to the fore.

“Angel, I need your advice. As my sire. Are you willing?” Spike was tired, and his voice carried his exasperation over the phone lines.

Anger simmered in Angel’s heart, but he couldn’t ignore the pleading tone Spike had adopted or the ritual words he’d used. He knew how much it was taking for Spike to ask him. “Speak, childe. Ask, and I will answer, if it is within my knowledge,” he finally said after a moment’s pause.

With few words, Spike relayed the events of the last few days, culminating with their parts in Dawn's ritual of judgement. Angel listened quietly, amazed, but refused to let Spike hear the awe in his replies and terse questions. When Spike had finished, he said coolly, “And the point?”

“The bloody point, Peaches, is can we make it? Can Buffy and I have a relatively normal life with all this mystical shite happening with her sister and us, and with us being vampire and Slayer?”

Angel took a deep breath, preparing to give Spike the greatest gift he could manage. “Spike, to be honest, if anyone can make it together, you and Buffy can. I know that you love her. I can feel it from here. And no matter how much it riles me, she loves you back. Yeah, if I were a betting man, I would say that you’ll make it, no matter what unlife throws at you two.”

Spike was quiet and Angel started to ask if they’d been disconnected when his voice came over the line. “Thank you, sire. I will listen and learn from your wisdom.” The ritual words spoken, he hung up, leaving Angel to stare at a dead phone line and cry.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She wandered the streets for a time, her eyes blank but her mind traveling at the speed of sound. She felt the stares of the people passing, but they mattered little in the scheme of things. No one mattered anymore. Alone and friendless, she pondered the changes in her life since that fateful night, and her heart cried crystalline tears for the loss of innocence, the loss of power, the loss of everything she had known for so long.

She found herself in a bar, sitting on a stool and listening to some idiot go on and on about a warlock named Rack. How powerful he was. How he could fix almost anything. A spark of hope ignited in her soul, and she curled up into the chatterbox’s embrace, hoping to draw information from the blathering that never stopped. She forgot that she was dirty from the streets and sewers, and smelled to high heaven. She forgot everything except the name—Rack.

After some coaxing and a touch of promised sexual favors, she got him to promise to take her, since magic was a prerequisite for visiting Rack’s place. Hooking her fingers in her coat, she slung it jauntily over her shoulder as she followed him out of Willy's bar. The rat-like eyes of the bartender followed her, his ears noting the company she kept, and he shook his head as he polished the counter. Slayer wouldn’t like this at all, he thought, wisely keeping to himself for once. He didn’t need any trouble, so he never mentioned it, then, nor days later when they came around asking questions again.

She looked up, and saw the stars again where there was darkness and night. There was hope; she just had to find it. There was someone who could help her, but she would have to make sacrifices. She would sacrifice anything or anyone to have a fraction of her magic back. She hoped she could convince Rack of that fact.


A/N: Moving right along folks...happy new year to all at the BSV, I hope the year brings you happiness and love...thank you for all the love and support over the last year, it has made a difference in my life, let me tell you...where I once felt weak, now I feel strong, and my dreams feel like they are now within my grasp, instead of so far out of reach...*hugs* to all!