Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”
Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^
A/N: This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.
*crash*
Glass flew around her head as she tumbled backwards through the window of the small boathouse, and into the cool night air. Pulling her arms in tight to her body, she hit the soft sand of the beach with her shoulder and rolled a few feet until she came to a stop. Quickly she pushed herself back to her feet and raced after the dark figure dashing awkwardly across the deep soft sand. Behind her she could hear the thuds and crashes of the fight continuing within the boathouse but she paid it little attention, her mind focused on the quarry before her.
She chased it over the top of a large dune, slipping and sliding her way down. Silently she cursed him for making her chase him, her new jean shorts were now covered in sand and her brand new sandals lost to her need for traction. But the sand had slowed him down too, and with a final leap she was on him, pulling him kicking to the ground. With a kick to her stomach he flung her off of him and she tumbled through the sand, her hair falling out of the loose braid she had had it pulled back in. Slowly she got to her feet, grabbing a sharp broken piece of driftwood. She ran a hand through her messed up hair and spit out a mouth full of sand.
“You are so going to pay for that one,” she glared at him.
He growled, the moonlight reflecting of his pale skin and pointed teeth.
“You guys can’t even let me enjoy a nice romantic evening, can you?” she leapt forward hitting him square in the chest with her right foot.
The kick knocked him onto his back and within seconds she was on top of him, pinning him beneath her knees. “Don’t mess with a girl’s vacation!” She plunged the piece of wood into his heart and watch as he dusted away beneath her. “Damn vamp,” she muttered to herself. Sighing she closed her eyes, stretched her arms above her head, and arched her back slightly stretching. Her heart was still racing with adrenaline as she got to her feet and started back up the dune, picking up her sandals on the way.
Just as she got to the top another vampire appeared before her with a growl ready to pounce. But before it could lunge at her or she could react she felt arms enfold her and she was rolling down the side of the dune again. She clung desperately to the body that held her, completely unable to tell which side was up. All she could hear was the waves of the ocean getting closer and closer, sand flying up all around her. However the thick mounds of sand slowed her rolling and eventually she found herself on her back staring up into two bright blue eyes.
“Spike, what the..?” but she was interrupted by the growl of the vampire racing towards them. She tensed her body beneath his, her hand reaching for the piece of driftwood she had used only moments earlier, but Spike reached it first and threw it. The vampire dusted a few feet away throwing a slight rain of dust down on them.
They lay there for a few seconds, his body pressing hers into the sand, both staring at the spot where the vampire had just been. Then turning to look at each other they both broke into huge smiles and started laughing. When their laughter finally died away he stared down at her, gently pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “They messed up your hair.”
“Well, I made him pay for it,” she smiled back. “What is it with vampires attacking people on dates anyway?”
“All the sexual tension in the air, hormones racing through their veins, sweetens the blood, gives it that something extra. Haven’t you seen any of those teen monster movies? You can smell lust like that a mile away.”
“Have I told you recently you vamps are just gross sometimes?”
“You vamps?” his voice feigning hurt, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly
She rolled her eyes at him and just sighed. “They ruined our dinner.”
“Wasn’t that hungry anyway,” he twirled the loose piece of her hair around his finger.
“Of course you weren’t hungry; all you need is that pint of blood, but me, I was looking forward to that dinner. Smelled so good.” She muttered, pouting up at him.
“Can’t have you being hungry, now can we, luv?” He ran his other hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his touch. “Guess we’ll just have to feed that hunger another way then,” he leaned down and captured her pouting lower lip with his own lips. She kissed him back, gently at first, her arms coming up over his shoulders. Their kiss deepened and he pressed her deeper into the sand. His hand ran up the length of her body and he moved his lips down along her neck tracing its curve down to her shoulders. She smiled with pleasure, running her hands through his hair, as he gently undid the ties to her bathing suit top. Closing her eyes she turned all her attention to him and let go, rolling him onto his back.
She woke a few hours later feeling refreshed yet lazy. The sand was warm beneath her back and she stretched out her bare legs feeling hot air warming her still tingling skin. Blinking she slowly opened her eyes and took in the radiantly beautiful sun-kissed morning. Sun-kissed! Her eyes sprung open and she rolled up onto her side. She was naked, draped in Spike’s leather coat but he was nowhere to be seen. Holding the jacket around her she reached for her shorts and bathing suit top, which lay near by.
“Spike?” she called warmly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, as she pulled on her clothes. “Spike!”
But there was no answer. She got to her feet and shading her eyes with her hand looked up and down the beach but there was no sign of him or any safe shady place that he could take refuge in for that matter. The sun beat down on her and she called his name again, but still no answer. Her heart started beating faster now. Where could he be?
Ring around the rosy,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes, ashes we all fall down.
The faint sound of children singing made her pause. What the hell was going on? Again the faint melody of the song floated past her ears. She shivered in the growing heat, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. Something about the song made her blood run cold, yet the sun seemed to be raging now, the heat almost took her breath away. She needed to find Spike and fast. As she reached down to pick up his coat, preparing to head back to the boathouse, she noticed a short man dressed in dark clothes standing nearby.
“He’s not there.” The man lit a cigarette, pulling his hat lower over his eyes.
She eyed him as best she could in the nearly-blinding sunlight. There was something oddly familiar about him. His slender fingers, the hat, the tone of his voice; yes, she definitely knew him from somewhere but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly where. He casually stared back at her. His mere presence began to irritate her. Who the hell did he think he was, staring at her like that, acting as if he knew everything? She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “So where is he?” she squinted back at him not even attempting to hide the irritation from her voice.
“Right where he’s always been; right by your side.” He stared back at her, his eyes completely empty. “The end is coming. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
A chill ran up her spine. Slowly, she glanced down at the jacket that was still in her hand. Gently she began to lift it from the beach, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, ever so slowly the lower tails of the coat lifted from the sand, leaving a pile of ash and dust beneath it.
Her heart seemed to stop. She couldn’t breathe nor tear her eyes from the neat gray pile of dust before her. She felt dizzy, waves of heat making the images before her dance and sway. She felt like she was burning alive. She reached out towards the ashes with her hands but stopped halfway to them. Her hands were covered in blood! The world around her, the sand beneath her all of it was turning a bright orange and red. She felt like she was burning. The voices of the singing children grew louder and louder and suddenly there was a high pitch scream, a young woman’s scream, the scream of one in absolute pain.
“No!” Buffy sat up with a start, her heart pounding, her hands shaking.
“Buffy! Buffy, what is it?” Spike sat up beside her. Flicking on the bedside lamp he turned to her, his hands coming up and gently but firmly gripping her wrists. She was shaking and turning her head wildly around the room.
“Spike, no Spike,” she moaned, tears starting to rise up in her eyes.
“Easy, luv, easy. I’m right here, see I’m right here. Look at me, Buffy, look at me. It was just a dream.”
Hesitantly she turned to him, her hair falling across her face. With one hand he pushed it away so she could see his face clearly in the soft lamplight. For a moment she stared at him, then reality settled in and she fell forward against him.
“It was just a dream,” he whispered against the top of her head, one arm holding her the other hand stroking her damp hair.
She rested her cheek against his cool dead skin and silently took in the room. He was right. It had just been a dream. She was safe in their plush hotel room in the middle of France, far away from any beaches. And he was there, with her, flesh and bone and soul. The screaming had stopped. The eerie singing was fading slowly from her mind.
She continued to lean against him, her eyes carefully moving over each item in the room. Everything seemed to be in place. Her battered leather backpack sat on an overstuffed armchair, exactly where she had dropped it hours before. An empty bottle of wine sat in the middle of a chipping bronze colored ice bucket. A thin glistening line of water hinting at the now completely melted contents of the bucket had started to pool beneath the bucket on the tabletop. Spike’s coat and pants lay in a pile near the foot of the bed, along with some extra pillows. Yes, everything was how she had remembered it. She let out a deep breath. He was right. They were safe.
Her heart was no longer pounding when she pushed back from his chest and looked up at him. He stared down at her in silence for a few moments, his eyebrows furrowed together as he quietly watched her. Finally convinced she was all right, his face relaxed and he gently stroked her cheek with his hand. “Care to share it?”
She averted her gaze at his words, knowing full well he wasn’t going to take her dream seriously. But it had been serious and she should tell him. “We were back in Fiji.”
A playful smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That was a good trip.” His hand dropped from her cheek to her waist and he pulled her closer to him. His touch was warm and inviting.
She was suddenly very aware of his nakedness; the red cotton bed sheets were sitting precariously low on his hips. She swallowed hard and nodded. His eyes darkened a little at her reaction, as he began to realize just how much her dream was upsetting her. He gently released her from his hold and leaned back against the pillows, propping himself up on an elbow.
“The floor is yours, luv.”
She swallowed again. “It was a memory at first. Remember the night we found that little boathouse, and those two vampires attacked us?”
He nodded, the mischievous sparkle reappearing in his eyes. “I particularly remember what we did after we got rid of them. Got to say that was a first for me. You always know how to keep a fella on his toes, mix it up good for him.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Spike, can you forget the sex for two minutes?”
“Sorry, pet.”
“So yes, we staked the vampires and, well, you have already alluded to the rest. That all happened in the dream just as it did when we were there 2 months ago.”
“So what’s the big scary then? As I recall you thoroughly enjoyed our little vacation.” The smile was back. It looked at her and she looked at it. It was one of those times where she hated it more than she loved it.
“We fell asleep and when I woke up it was late morning. I panicked, but thankfully you were gone. I called out to you but you didn’t answer so I got dressed and was getting ready to head back to the boathouse, which is where I assumed you were. That’s when I heard the song.”
“What song?”
“You know the one little kids sing when the play Ring-around-the-Rosy? You know ‘Ring around the rosy. A pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes we all fall down.’ It was really faint but I swore I heard a whole group of children singing it, but I couldn’t see them anywhere. It was really creepy; Children of the Corn creepy. That’s when I noticed this guy standing there all in black smoking.”
“Guy in black?” Spike raised his eyebrows. His eyes darkened a little.
“Oh please tell me you aren’t going to get all teenage-angsty on me? It wasn’t Angel, ok. I’m not sure who he was…though…” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned slightly. “It’s just…I got the feeling I had met him before.” She stared off for a few seconds, nibbling her lower lip, her hands resting in her lap. Where had she seen that guy before? Who was he?
“Anyway, he tells me you aren’t in the boathouse. He really started to aggravate me to tell you the truth, all high and mighty, knowing everything. Then he tells me you’re right next to me; by my side.” Her voice began to falter a little. Why is this bothering me so much?
“He told me that the end is coming. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…that’s when I picked up your coat.” She swallowed hard. “You were a pile of dust in the sand.”
Her lower lip was starting to tremble again, but she continued on. “The singing came back and it was as if the world was on fire; I was on fire. And there was blood, blood on my hands. Then there was this scream.”
She could hear the scream echoing again in her mind and she slammed her eyes shut at the memory, willing it to disappear, to leave her. He leaned toward her then, encircling her with his arms and drawing her body back against his. His hands felt oddly warm through the fabric of his black t-shirt, which she had recently started to wear to bed. He molded his body against hers, his arms holding her tight.
“I’m not going down that easy,” he whispered into her hair.
“I know,” she whispered back.
“And as for the rest of it, most likely just the Chinese food we had earlier tonight. Probably asking for it really, I mean French Chinese food.”
She turned quickly to face him, her eyes hard. “It wasn’t just a dream, Spike. It wasn’t some bad egg rolls. You and Angel mud wrestling now that’s a dream, the children’s choir from hell and a guy I know I’ve met before warning me of some apocalypse, now that’s a vision.”
“Fine, fine it wasn’t a dream,” Spike put up his hands in surrender before wrapping them back around her and drawing her close again. “I believe you,” he kissed the back of her head. “So what’s the game plan?”
“I don’t know,” she sighed. Suddenly she sat bolt upright again. “Angel!” She cried.
“What?” Spike pushed himself up to face her, irritation thick in his voice.
“The guy in my dream, I just remembered where I’ve met him. He paid me a visit the night Angel tried to awaken Acathla.” She frowned, “God he was irritating then too.” She shook her head, “He was some kind of immortal demon, but on the side of good. I was so preoccupied with stopping Angel I don’t remember much else about him.”
She nibbled at her lower lip for a few more seconds in silence. Finally her face lit up a little as she made her decision. “We need to get back to L.A. We need to find this demon and I think Angel is our best bet.”
Spike just stared back at her.
“Come on Spike,” she reached out to touch his face, to appease the blatant look of revulsion that had appeared at the idea of going back to LA.
“What?” He replied, slightly caustically. “So I’m not doing bloody cartwheels over going back there and dealing with Angel-boy again. You know I’ll go, but don’t expect me to be all streamers about it.”
She smiled at him. “I never would.” Leaning over she kissed him gently on the lips. “It’s a few more hours until sunset,” she yawned as she snuggled against him and pulled the sheets up around herself. “We can get plane tickets then and enjoy one more night in Paris.” Her voice was soft and heavy with sleep.
Sighing, Spike stared down at her for a few moments, watching her shoulders rise and fall as sleep over took her. He was wide-awake now. The thought of facing Angel again made the demon within him growl. How could he ever make her understand him and Angel? Her breathing became steady and the warmth of her back and thighs against his own body drove the darker thoughts from his mind. Of course he would endure the older vampire. He would endure him for her.
Wrapping his arms around her midsection he leaned back down onto the pillow beside her, the scent of her shampoo filling his nose with the gentle scent of vanilla and roses. How he loved the way she smelled, the way she felt in his arms, and the way her body so perfectly molded to his. Turning slightly he glanced at the clock over his shoulder. It was 4:30pm. The sun would be down by 7:30. Turning back to her he rested his forehead against the back of her head. He’d let her sleep for another hour or so, let her replace the horror of her vision with much sweeter dreams, and then he’d awaken her in a way he knew would make her forget all her worries. He smiled against her hair as he let his mind play over exactly how he’d wake her.
Paris never seemed to sleep. If anything it seemed to come even more to life as the sun began to set. The dying rays of the sun echoed across the landscape, singing out their invitation to Paris’s twilight dwellers. Like moths to a flame it called to them, awaking them from their daylight slumber, calling them out to play among the dancing lights and shadows. Young and old, dead and living all heard its call. And so the masquerade began ever night, lovers and the lonely, dreamers and the broken all crowded into the Paris streets seeking out the endless waltz of night.
The moon was already at its zenith, burning brightly among a starless sky, by the time they stepped out into the crowded streets. All around them Paris’s children of the night played, laughed, and danced. They moved lazily in and out of the crowds, his cool finger tips deftly guiding her through the throngs. They enjoyed a small dinner and some wine outdoors at a corner café, and then rode the elevator up to the top of the Eiffel Tower.
The Tower was fairly crowded despite the late hour, but they found a quiet spot off to the side. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the top of the railing, her chin sitting between her hands as she stared down at the city below. Bathed in the silvery light of the moon she sighed contentedly. The cool evening breeze was refreshing to her still tingling skin. That had been one wake-up call she would not long forget.
“It’s all so simple from up here,” she breathed. She felt his arms encircle her waist as he stepped into her back. She straightened up and leaned back against his chest.
“It’s never really ever simple, luv. Just seems to be when death is your curse and your gift. Every last one of them down there, facing their own battles everyday. Each one full of fear, passion, lust, death; one big orgy of emotions and challenges life is. You may be alive but you’re never really among them down there. You live above them; you live knowing the full truth, forever living in limbo. ”
“Now there’s the poet,” she teased. “I was starting to wonder when he’d make an appearance. I mean considering this view alone, I was waiting for at least one effulgent.” With laughter in her voice and eyes she turned in his arms to face him.
“You know effulgent is a perfectly good word; rhymes very well,” he huffed, his hold on her stiffening. “Just you wait,” he went on leaning towards her, “You’ll see, just give it time; that word is going to make a comeback.”
“Yah maybe after another millennia or two,” she laughed no longer able to control herself. Her laughter was contagious and before he could stop himself he was laughing as hard as she was.
Somewhere far below church bells struck the hour. It was 2 am. The singsong of the bells brought a sad end to their laughter. It was almost time to go.
“We should probably head over to the airport. The flight’s at 4 and you need to be all set before the sun comes up.”
He nodded silently; then leaning forward kissed her deeply one last time beneath the Paris moon.