Chapter Eleven

(Happy Thanksgiving!)

********

“I didn't come back wrong?”

”No, you're the same Buffy.” Tara said lightly, “With a deep tropical cellular tan.”

”You must have missed something. Will you check again?” The urgency in Buffy’s voice surprised her.

”Buffy, I-I promise, there's nothing wrong with you.” And the look on her face was too painful. Tara didn’t understand what was going on, or the feelings that she kept hidden. And suddenly, Buffy felt so old. It was Tara’s naiveté that made her break down. It was her innocence that made her cry.

”There has to be! This just can't be me, it isn't me.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, “Why do I feel like this? Why do I let Spike do those things to me?”

”You mean hit you.” Oh god, she still didn’t understand. This thing, between them was so horrible. Buffy could not rely on her morals of black and white anymore and it physically made her sick.

Buffy met Tara's eyes, but only for a moment, then looks away. Tara frowns as she begins to understand.

“Oh. Oh, huh. Really.”

Words now tumbled out of her mouth. She couldn’t control it anymore. And suddenly, she couldn’t remember what she was saying; only that Tara needed to understand.

“He's everything I hate. He's everything that ... I'm supposed to be against. But the only time that I ever feel anything is when ... Don't tell anyone, please.”

”I won't.”

”The way they would look at me ... I just couldn't...” The perception of her friends and the fear that they wouldn’t get it.

”I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't do that.”

”Why can't I stop? Why do I keep letting him in?” Buffy whispered, barely able to get the questions out.

”Do you love him?”

She couldn’t think of that. If she did, then she would have to recognize the truth. That this need for him was growing dangerously into something like affection.

“I-It's okay if you do. He's done a lot of good and and he does love you. A-and Buffy, it's okay if you don't. You're going through a really hard time and you're...”

“What?” She cried, “Using him? What's okay about that?” He was better than her, he didn’t deserve her. But what if he were to break this off, what if…

”It's not that simple.”

”It is! It's wrong. I'm wrong. Tell me that I'm wrong, please...” Oh God, why couldn’t everything be simple!

Buffy starts to sob uncontrollably. Not just the fat, rolling tears, but convulsions of depression.

“Please don't forgive me, please...” She begs between gasps, “Please don't...”

********


Buffy woke up with a gasp. She couldn’t breathe. She was air filled but she couldn’t breathe. Desperate attempts to clear anything and gain calm became futile as she looked around in the darkness. She couldn’t see anything, her heart was racing and she shook. Buffy could feel her body go out of control and crumble as she fell off her bed. Slow, jerky movements allowed her to grasp the wall of her compartment and pull herself up next to the foot of Willow’s bunk.

In her mind, she couldn’t comprehend how Willow hadn’t woken up, or for the entire train to come running. It was a day after they came to Los Angeles and her mind was so focused upon the upcoming performing days, that she hadn’t had time to slip. It was so busy, that she couldn’t even congratulate herself on being good. The demons had gone into their individual cages, the tents were up and the lights were flickering.

She tried to grasp these chores as they ran through her head, but they slipped through as the memory and vision returned. She felt pity, heartbroken and sympathetic towards a vampire who had risked everything and the guilt. The guilt of longing to comfort him, the guilt of causing his pain.

Buffy felt guilt over a vampire.

And then the wrongness, an element of entitlement and confusion ran over her shaking limbs. These memories couldn’t have happened, it was only a dream, it was only a dream, and it was only a dream. She was crawling towards the door until she found the handle and found herself on the other side. Silently, she closed the compartment, stumbled down the stairs and breathed the sandy outdoor air.

Standing at the edge of Los Angeles, she laughed at the translation. She was at the edge of angels. Or at least their city. Buffy was at the edge of something.

Her laughing turned to coughing, which caused her breath to stop again. And in a moment of desperation, she threw up. Emptying her stomach onto the sands and collapsed.

*******




“Am I wrong? Am I wrong? Am I wrong?”

The water was dry, but it was raining. Or it was raining insects. Or insects were attacking her.

“Slayer, as much as I would like to gallantly pick you up, lay you on a bed of roses and suck the blood out of your beating heart, I have to tell you that you have to wake up.”

More mosquito bites.

She opened an eye slowly and looked up. She was in a tent. To her right, there was darkness and to her left, there was light. Buffy felt as if her head were going to be split down the center, with two sides of her going to heaven and hell. Hah. On the edge of angels.

Something hard hit the side of her head and she turned her head towards the darkness. Something made a noise maybe of relief, maybe of distain.

“Slayer, close that damned flap before you fucking get another vampire killed.”

Slowly, Buffy moved towards the light and closed the cloth tent so that she was on the inside and nearest to the voice. Her eyes adjusted quickly and found herself face to face with cheekbones.

She scrambled backwards, so fast and disorganized that she tripped. Not enough to fall down but enough to catch the attention of the vampire. He smiled.

“So I did frighten you with my attempts to kill you.” But his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “How unusual.”

“Spike.” Buffy grumbled hoarsely, barely above a whisper, “what did you do to me?”

“I just threw a bit of sand on top of you. To revive you from your not dead but very smelly state.” He squinted his eyes, “Have you been drinking? I’ve been smelling vomit since you got here.”

Acidic and strong, she tasted the inside of her mouth, which was hot and dry. She got her flask of water and sipped a little before spitting the rest out. She painfully put the flask next to her and crouched down once more.

“Why am I here?”

“Beats me Slayer. In the middle of the night, I was happy thinking about the newest way to off you. And it dealt with a nice little suffering for Angelus too. And then you come in smelling disgusting. When you looked up, after I had gotten done screaming at you to get out, you just collapsed.” He shrugged. “I gotta say… throwin’ sand at you made my night. I just kept thinking if you would just come a little bit closer, I could grab your hair—”

“Be quiet.”

“What did you tell me Slayer?” His head twitched slightly in surprise.

“Just. Shut. Up.” She breathed. Her body legs were dead and her head swam about like fishes in a glass jar. Two alpha fishes killing one another. She placed her hands over her head to block out the sound.

“I will not—”

“Spike. I’m not—”

“You can’t—”

Buffy snapped.

“If you love me, you will shut up.”

“What did you just say?” Spike’s voice was a soft rumble. His entire body had frozen and Buffy could see the shiver run through his entire body.

“I… I…” She stuttered, “Oh my god. I didn’t… did not mean…”

Spike slammed his body against the bars and Buffy repelled further back. He held them tight and pressed his chest against the metal, pulling them apart as hard as he could. Even though Buffy knew he wouldn’t get out, even with the magic, even with his strength, she thought the metal would stay. But she was still scared. And the hair went up on her arms as she saw his face contort in livid anger.

“So this is what it is coming down to.” Spike growled. “Do you want to make any more comments about how I’m a monster, I don’t have any feelings and soulless? Because you can. I am a vampire, I’m evil.” He tried to put pride in his words, but they came out dead and painful.

Buffy was silent.

“And you are the good guy, showing the world that we are dangerous, but not so dangerous that a little fluffy cheerleader can’t beat the shit out of me with the help of –” He tried to break the chains of his necklace but they wouldn’t budge, “OF THESE GOD DAMNED INFERNAL FUCKING MECHINISMS!!! I FUCKING HATE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE DONE TO ME!!! GET OUT!!!”

His voice lowered to a purring undertone, “I would rather break my own neck that to sit here and have you torment me about a fantasy, a sick and twisted dream that keeps popping into my head every time I smell you near by.”

Buffy muttered something his vampire hearing could barely pick up.

“Repeat what you said!” He demanded, in complete shock, “Repeat what you said to me, to my face, right now!” Buffy jerked her head up angrily and pushed herself up until she was standing only inches from his reach.

“You big baby. You have reoccurring fantasies. Well, then take back your fucking spell that did this and we can get out of here alive.” Her eyes flashed dangerously, “Be a man. Because proving that you can commit suicide is really making me scared. Ooooh, Spikey wants to off himself.”

She took a step closer.

“Well, Spike, I sure as hell wouldn’t cry.”

His arm flew out and Buffy blocked it. He tried to hit her again and she blocked it again. He hit and hit and she kept blocking until he stopped for a mere second. That’s when Buffy took the palm of her hand and hit him in the stomach, he flew back until he hit the wall of the cage with such force, that he knocked one of the steel reinforcements slightly loose. Spike then pulled with every ounce of strength he had, so that it came further and further out of its socket.

Right before it broke, Buffy was on the other side. She punched him, he punched her and then she kicked him. She pulled the pin back into place and with her bare hands, squeezed until the socket was in place once more.

Spike jerked on the pin, it wouldn’t budge. He jerked it again, still nothing. He kept jerking, as Buffy took a step forward in order to tell him that he would never win. That he would always be a slave to his demon.

But he surprised her.

His hand moved so fast she didn’t know it was near her until it had caught her shirt. Spike pulled her forward and knocked her head against the pole once. Buffy stumbled backwards in pain, sitting down hard.

Spike then pulled with every amount of strength he had until the pin bent backwards just enough, so that he could push it to the side and climb through the cage. And stand at Buffy’s feet.

“Now tell me what you said.”

“No.”

“If you just tell me what you said, I would consider letting you die. It’s about a fifty/fifty chance here. One, become immortal or two, die.” He leaned in closer “I can hear your heart speed up when I talk about becoming a vampire.”

“No.” Buffy reacted and tried to punch him, but he caught both arms. Spike pulled her up until she was standing. Her head was still throbbing from the hit and Spike didn’t make things better when he hit her again. Her knees crumbled underneath her but she didn’t pass out. Score one for Buffy.

Spike was intent upon the final point.

“You see, I’ve been planning for days on how to get out. I had it all planned out, where you would come and open it up and I would get into a bloody fight, take the controller from your hands, break it against your skull, then skip off into the night to tell all your little friends that you were dead. Then I would kill them too. All single handed like. And then walk into the bloody darkrise.”

Buffy could vaguely hear a box open, then her wrists became closer and closer together until they were painfully tight. With no breath, he came inches away from her ear. Buffy jumped when he whispered.

“This spontaneous reality is so much better.”