Barely Ajar



She landed, feet first, on something solid. She couldn’t see what, because as it had started out within him, it was pitch black. There was a hard thud to her right.

“Ouch,” she heard Spike mutter.

“Rough landing?”

“Shut up, Slayer.”

She smirked.

“Wonder if there’s a light switch somewhere,” she mumbled, groping through the air and having her hands find worn leather.

“You’re not gonna find it there,” he pointed out.

“Sorry,” she said, quickly pulling her hands to her and taking a step back.

There was a sudden flare of fire right before her and Spike ducked.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed.

She stared at the spot where she had just seen him, completely taken aback. Another flare appeared and he had to roll on the floor to get away from it.

“Bleeding well stop it!”

“I’m not doing it, I swear!”

“In case you failed to notice, sweetheart, the only one able to do anything in here is you!”

“You’re not getting me to not do anything with that attitude.”

“You’re gonna sodding fry me! Is that singed hair I smell?”

Another flare appeared, this time a mere inch away from his head. He caught her gaze and held it, not moving a muscle, the fire slowly dying out. He had stayed untouched by it and she wasn’t sure if it was his hardheadedness or stupidity or fearlessness which enabled him to hold his ground that way, but a small part of her was a little impressed.

A different light spread softly through the space they occupied; which showed itself in the form of a corridor, with bare walls and smooth floor and ceiling. Like a cube, expanding behind them, and before them.

“There,” she now said, in regards to the fire.

He was patting his shoulder, which was smoking, giving her a dirty look.

“You know, you could feel perfectly safe inside me. I was professional enough not to bloody try anything.”

“When did love turn into professionalism?” she shot, starting to walk down the wide corridor toward the room she could tell was at the end of it.

“Oh, so now you’re gonna throw it in my face, is that it?” he asked, following in her footsteps.

“I’m just saying,” she replied. “And I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Right. Being on the defensive is a natural state with you.”

“Hey,” she said, furrowing her brow.

“Ohhh, better watch it. Who knows what comes next.”

Something flew past his ear and smashed against the wall to his right. His eyes widened as he noticed it was a stake. Another came from behind and he managed to crouch down on all fours, avoiding it. Once he straightened himself up again it was with an accusing glare.

She met his gaze, about to say something when a brick wall appeared in front of her, parting them effectively. She frowned, placing her palms against it. It was firm, solid.

“Spike?!” she yelled.

Nothing.

Dear God, I’m actually killing him, aren’t I? she thought.

“Damn it!” she exclaimed. “Spike!”

“Jeez, no need to get loud, pet,” he stated and she spun around.

“I thought you were being murdered by the nastier side of my brain,” she remarked sourly. “Apologies for shouting.”

“Would’ve been pretty undignified of you, wouldn’t it? Offing me when I did nothing to you.”

“I wouldn’t say you did nothing.”

“Oh?” he asked, an eyebrow rising. “And what did I do?”

She rested her eyes in his, feeling something undefined rise with the aggravation at the self-assurance in his inquisitiveness.

Another brick wall shot up; taking him out of sight as three more boxed her in. She put her arms up, trying to press out to the sides.

“Come on!” she yelled.

Bracing herself she kicked one leg up, her foot breaking through the red stones and making their molding crack, their structure falling apart. She stepped through the hole and looked around. More brick. Everywhere brick. She started running through the maze they made, feeling annoyance with herself build and build until she stopped, panting and looking around.

There had to be a solution to this, a thought that would trigger the disposal of them. She calmed herself, standing perfectly still, remembering all the times she had practiced with Giles on not losing focus, on being able to concentrate her energy on one single task.

All the walls began to fold themselves away, soundlessly, until only one remained. She smiled with the victory she felt, but it faded as she faced the still present wall. Placing one hand against it she could feel its cool roughness. She knew what it was, why it was there, but she couldn’t have it; it wouldn’t do. She could find a loophole, she just had to relax.

But the more she tried to relax, the higher and thicker the brick seemed to stack itself and soon she was nothing but irritated with it all.

“Alright,” she said as her frustration mounted. “Just stop!”

At the last word she was about to pound a fist on the structure, only the structure disappeared and she stumbled forward, into the arms of Spike. He helped her find her balance and she looked up at him as she straightened her back, her hands on his upper arms; the steadiness of his frame against her chest.
“Gonna let me in this time, pet?” he asked, his gaze searching hers and she took a step away from him, bringing herself out of his hold as she let go of him.

The light around them faded until only darkness once more remained.

“Great,” she sighed.

“Hope it wasn’t something I said.”

“Shut up, Spike.”

He smirked.

She knew it wasn’t what it seemed. She just had to find the reason why she was in this particular shadow of her mind.

“Oh,” she said as there was the smallest showing of light, looking like it was coming through a tiny hole put in the gloom around them.

She approached it and once she reached it she stopped in front of it, observing it for a long moment.

“What is it?” Spike wondered.

“It’s...” Buffy began, but then tiny holes appeared all around them and below them and above them and he realized what they all were as the view seemed to explode outward and the softly glowing holes turned to round dots which were floating midair, the Vamp and Slayer floating with them.

“Dawn,” he filled in Buffy’s sentence, the small speck of light they had seen before beginning to grow, as it was actually drifting closer. He could hardly believe it, but he immediately knew what this meant. Dawn was the Key. “Is this a memory?” he asked silently.

“A dream,” she answered, smiling with melancholy as the ball of energy slowly past them. “She was beautiful. She still is.”

“Buffy, Buffy, look what I made!”

She turned her head, and it was as though a black and white snapshot embraced her, making her a part of it. She knew Spike was right behind her as she watched the image of her little sister, five years old and glowing with pride. The only thing was that the memory wasn’t real, and here, in this part of her brain, she knew it. The images were dim and fractured and she wanted to cry.

“Dawnie,” she smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

“I made it for you, you know.”

“You didn’t!”

“Did too!”

“I’ll put it right here, okay?”

“Okay.”

She bent down for a kiss and got one on the cheek before Dawn skipped out of the room.

“Mommie!”

It was a few years later. She remembered this fight! But it was no more real than the previous one.

“Mommie, Buffy says I have to stay at home when she goes to the park just ‘cause she’s gonna meet Susan there and it’s not fair ‘cause I wanna go too...”

“Slow down, honey,” Joyce said.

“Mom, don’t make me take her. Please!” Buffy exclaimed; once again a part of the scene while Spike stood to the side, observing it. “I’ll die. I’ll flat out lie down and die.”

“Buffy, don’t be a drama queen, it’s not attractive. Dawn, you and I can go to the park tomorrow.”

“But, mommie!”

“Thanks, mom,” Buffy smiled, grabbing an apple and giving Dawn a triumphant look before heading out of the kitchen.

“Help, help!”

The scenery changed into a bedroom, where a noticeable lump was cowering under the covers of the bed. Buffy ran forward, pausing with fists on hips as she said:

“Don’t worry, Flame, I’m here to save you!”

And then she pulled the covers off Dawn, who giggled as she started to tickle her. She wrapped her arms around her and Dawn hugged her back.

“I promise I’ll always save you,” Buffy said, kissing the younger on the forehead and Dawn smiled brightly.

Spike watched them, feeling Buffy’s sadness like bars all around him. He understood that she mourned the fact that this had, in reality, never taken place; but he could feel her very real love for her sister, and the constant worry she was under for her safety. It wasn’t until now that he began to understand what he was actually doing, how he was making his consciousness a part of hers and through that experiencing all of her. It was thrilling and terrifying. He had a picture of her in his head, and he had to wonder if it was about to be ripped to bits.

They were brought into a room with dark blue walls, completely lacking in furniture. As her eyes met his, a white pattern carefully started to draw itself in bold, continually flowing strokes all around them.

“Is this a safe place?” she asked.

“No place is safe,” he answered.

“So what are we doing?”

In a second they were switched into a large gymnasium. The seats were filled with cheering people. Buffy found herself at the foot of them, staring at a sight she had absolutely not foreseen.

“Aaaaaalright!” the cheerleading squad yelled, placing their pompoms together. “We’re here to be loud, to win over the crowd, to show you who’s the best, who flunks out all the rest!”

Spike felt his jaw drop as he saw the perky young Buffy, jumping and shouting with the rest of the beautified girls.

“My, my, my,” he mumbled, the head of the Buffy at his side whipping around to him and he looked innocent. “All I’m saying is you could always kick high, couldn’t you?”

“Not another word,” she warned, turning from him again. However, she was unable to keep quiet as she added: “It was a lot of fun and very building of character and athletic. You won’t see a regular student doing splits or handstands or... Oh, shush.”

“Won’t exactly see a regular student beat up a chap twice her size, either,” he said.

“No,” she agreed, smiling briefly. “Guess you won’t.”

“Now give a great big shout, to the boys who turn it out!” the squad finished.

The masses went wild as the basketball team ran onto the court.

Buffy looked at herself. So young, so ignorant. So Just-a-Few-Years-Ago.

“Excuse me.”

She turned around to see Spike kneeling down to get his face at the same height as the even younger version of her. She was standing and waiting patiently for him to get into a position to speak with her.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

Their surroundings faded into the backyard of her old house in Los Angeles. It was evening, and the air felt like spring time.

“I was wondering if you’d seen my cat.”

“Oh, Freckles,” Buffy said. “I haven’t thought about her in ages.”

“Sorry, love,” Spike replied the little versioned Slayer, “haven’t seen her.”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure you can.”

“What’re you doing in our backyard?”

He had to smile.

“You think there’s something wrong with my being here?”

“Well, yeah.”

“So why are you talking to me?”

“’Cause I wanna find Freckles! Besides, my friend Daniel says I can kick really hard.”

“I bet you can,” he smiled. “I’ll have to watch myself, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “How come your hair’s so white?”

He glanced at the grown Buffy, who didn’t really know where she should look.

“Because it’s supposed to be. It’s a thing.”

Buffy huffed and he looked at her again, making her turn her eyes casually to the sky.

The younger Buffy reached out a hand and touched his cheek, making him focus back on her.

“How come you’re so cold?”

“Someday you’ll know,” he promised.

There was a meow from under a bush and a red-speckled cat came running across the grass.

“Freckles!” she exclaimed, the namesake stopping at her feet and beginning to thoroughly stroke itself against her legs. “Hi, sweets. Miss me, huh?” she smiled, scratching the cat lovingly behind the ears.

Then she reached forward and put her arms around the vampire in a hard hug. He was surprised at the earnestness of that touch, of her head on his shoulder and her featherweight leaning against him before she pulled away again.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “Felt like you needed it. See ya!”

He watched her as she ran up the porch steps and in through the kitchen door, Freckles following in her wake.

“’S that what you were like when you were a kid?”

“Pretty much.”

“Hmh,” he said, standing up and turning to her. “Tragic change.”

She gave him a look and walked across the lawn, heading for the street.

“How innocent would you be if you’d spent four years slaying vampires and demons and trying to stay sane while your whole life just seems completely decided for you and you know that all those dreams you had growing up are not going to come true ‘cause you’ll most probably be dead by twenty-five?!”

He had been following her, now he paused his step, blinking, but got himself moving in the next instant.

“I guess all that stuff might be true,” he said, making her stop. “But I don’t believe it. You’re tough, Slayer, but you’re not stone. And, you know, a dream can be realized in a day, if you want it bad enough. And the dying thing... not so bad.”

She kept a straight face for a long moment, then smiled a small smile.

“But I won’t have the coming-back thing going for me,” she remarked.

“Buffy, you’re a bloody warrior. You’re not gonna die.”

They were in the alley behind the Bronze in the next blink, her eyes in his and it was the first time they met.

“What happens Saturday?”

“I kill you.”

The arrogance. The total knowledge that he simply would. It had rubbed her the wrong way in many ways. In making her afraid. In catching her and staying with her. In waking defiance and want to make him see her as a more difficult mark.

Now he didn’t walk away, as he so coolly had that night, but kept observing her.

“You almost did,” she now said.

“Yeah, couple of times,” he agreed; then his eyes widened and he grabbed her, pushing her to the side before kicking a leg out and hitting No Face in the chest.

The demon didn’t budge more then half a step and at the same time he punched Spike across the chin, making the vampire join Buffy, who was pressed against the wall behind him.

“Jesus, what’s he made of?” he said.

“Try asking him,” Buffy replied, ducking as the demon swung his large fist at her head.

She jabbed him harshly in the side four times, kicking up a knee in his stomach and being able to shove him back far enough for her to face him. She concluded she was stronger in her own skull than she had been in Spike’s, a fact which perked her up considerably.

“Come on,” she said. “You’ll have to do much better than that.”

No Face moved forward with a speed she hadn’t anticipated, but a steel pipe, courtesy of Spike, hit him in the throat and stopped the attack.

“Let’s go,” Spike said and Buffy gave him a disbelieving look. “Slayer, let’s go.”

“I’m not running away.”

“You did it before.”

“I can take him!”

“We don’t have time to bloody argue!” he exclaimed, pulling her to him and then lifting her, throwing her over one shoulder before he began to run.

“Put me down, you overgrown, bleached mongrel; you can’t do this to me in here!”

As soon as she said it they were parted, the scenery changed into his crypt and she was standing by the door, he was by the armchair, both were slightly shaken by the suddenness of the switch.

A warm wind moved past Buffy at the door and the candles standing everywhere began to light themselves.

“Is this a safe place?” she asked.

“No place is safe,” he replied.

“So what’re we doing?” she wondered.

She turned and walked out through the door. He hesitated, then walked across the room and followed her. He stepped into the mansion he had shared with Drusilla and Angelus, when the trio had been united for such a short period in Sunnydale. It was desolate, but furnished. The fireplace looked used. He spotted Buffy as she walked to a doorway and came to a slow stop.

“What I want from you I can never have,” she said and he saw Angel beyond her.

She backed away, coming back into the room and stopping by the couch.

Angel came out through the doorway and Spike felt himself tense. The other vampire walked in Buffy’s footsteps and stopped right behind her, reaching out a hand and softly placing it on her shoulder. Tears had formed in her eyes and slowly slid down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Angel murmured.

“Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

There was a soft pause and then she mumbled:

“I know.”

She turned around and met the kiss she knew had been waiting for her, returning it as she kissed him deeply and wanting to hold onto him hard enough, long enough to make him change his mind. Placing her cheek against his chest she vowed to do nothing less than that.

“Don’t cry,” he said.

“No, you’re better off with the poof gone, believe me.”

She checked herself, moving her head to look at the younger vampire.

“It’s true, innit? Look at him. You call me overgrown? He’s all broad and tall and have you seen the expanse of his forehead?”

“You are just not a welcomed little addition to this, are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, bringing down the mood?”

“The mood’s already down.”

“When really you should be celebrating.”

“Can you lasso the jealousy for a minute or so?”

“’Lasso’?”

“Well, good, now he’s already gone.”

And Angel was. Gone.

“Good riddance,” Spike huffed.

“Hey! Can you not get in the middle of this?”

“Of what?! We’re the only ones here. You want to rant to yourself? Go ahead!”

“Sometimes you make me so angry I could slap you. Or kick you. Really, really hard!”

“I know you’ve got the power to back it up! Don’t hold back on account of the chip. I’m pretty sure it’s non-existent in here!”

“I don’t wanna hurt you right now; all I want right now is for you to disappear!”

And with those words her wish was granted. The space he had occupied was left vacant as he vanished from sight. She put a hand by her mouth, feeling guilt swiftly rise to color her insides bright pink.

“Oh...crap.”