Home
Register
Recent
Categories
Authors
Series
Titles
Completed
Help
Search
Betas
Links
Find-A-Fic
Spuffy Twitter
LiveJournal
Top 10
Contact Us


RSS

Chit-Chat

squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!

Support


Author's Corner

[Reviews - 19]

Microsoft Word Chapter or Story

Printer Chapter or Story

ePub eBook Chapter or Story


- Text Size +
1724 - Reads



CHAPTER TWO


PRESENT

Angel dragged himself up from the floor and crossed the lobby, with Spike limping behind him. Angel
gestured vaguely to the left. "My old office." He pointed the other way. "Cordy and Wes's old offices." There was a pause. The silence was so vicious it threatened to deafen its victims. A draft sighed around a corner, and the builiding shifted and leaned against the gusts outside. At last, Angel broke the silence. "Beds are upstairs. C'mon, everyone gets their own room." He turned to Illyria. "Could you...help Gunn?"
Illyria nodded and threw his unconcious form over her shoulder.
Spike nodded. "Peachy. 'Cept um...damn. Stairs. There's gotta be stairs?" He sighed and appraoched the banister.
"Yeah. Not too many though." Angel replied.
"Good. Won't be too far to carry me."
"Like hell if I'm--" as Angel turned, Spike's knees finally gave out and he crumpled to a heap on the floor, having completely blacked out. Angel stared for a minute, then sighed. "Illyria? Could you?" The ancient god nodded and walked forwad, gathering the limp form in her arms and throwing him across her other shoulder.




PAST
"What?" Angel's voice came sharp and worried. "He's alive?"
"Yeah...a kind of alive." Spike kneeled and put his arm behind the man's dark neck, lfting him a little off the hard asphalt. "Poor bastard." He said softly, his voice dripping with pity.
"Sp-...Spike?" Gunn croaked out. Spike slowly reached a trembling hand towards the man's face, then pulled away. Gunn's body was largely intact, barring a deep gash in his torso from his earlier battle. Illyria had shielded him from major wounds. However, his face had suffered a heavy and sharp blow to the face. The bridge of his nose was deeply cut. More obviously, both his eyes had been completely ruined. Charles Gunn was blind. "I think...I think one of those sons of bitches set my face on fire." The man's voice was twisted in pain. His smile came as more of a grimace. "I told y'all...told y'all I was on fire." Spike nodded grimly. "Sure did, mate." Gunn turned to him, though sightless, the movement was meaningless and out of habit. "Can we...can we go home?"
"Yeah." Angel's voice surprised both of the men. "We're gonna go home."




PRESENT

Spike opened his eyes. Most of his wounds had healed, and he felt fresh and reenergized. Light filtered through the drawn curtains, turning the room a glowing yellow. The room was quiet and relatively clean, and the covers he lay on top of were still white and soft after over a year of not being used. Spike sat up, groaning. He ran his hand through his mussed peroxide locks and stood up, limping slightly towards the door, then down the huge banister stairs. Rotating a shoulder, he looked up and stopped dead in his tracks.

Buffy.

Standing in the middle of the lobby in a white dress and long golden hair spilling around her shoulders, she looked like an angel. Spike took a hesitant step forward.
"Buffy?"
She stepped forward, smiling, her blue-green eyes wide with wonder.
"I'm so sorry...I got so lost....Buffy..." Spike could feel the floor falling away beneath him as she stepped closer.
"I'm right here." She whispered softly.
"Buffy...never leave, never leave you..."
"I'm right here." She repeated. Buffy reached out an elegant hand to Spike's cheek. He closed his eyes, waiting to feel her porcelain skin on hers.

Spike opened his eyes.

The hotel room was dank and cold.

Light filtered dimly through ragged curtains that had fallen haphazardly over the window. He rolled over with a moan, seeing out of the corner of his eye that the moldy pillow he lay on was darker and dirtier from his own cold blood. Spike sighed and roamed his eyes over the dusty, cold room before closing them again.
"You cry out while you sleep."
He shot up, surprised by the voice, then gasped as the movement made the room swim around him.
"You speak of merciless beauty, love without pity. Violence that frees."
Illyria stood in the doorway, staring at him. Her cold eyes made Spike shudder.
"Yeah. I..." Spike swallowed hard. "I had a nightmare That's lovely poetry by the way, but I'm pretty damn sure i never said any of that." Spike rubbed his sore eyes. "You got no scent...gotta stop sneaking up on people like that, could gie a fella a heart attack." He paused. "Well, yeah, ok, not me, but--"
"Who is Buffy." It was a command, not a question. The old one drilled into him with her eyes.
"This bird across the pond." Not a lie, exactly...
"Your love rolls off of you in waves, fire without gravity." Okay, so the lying didn't matter so much.
"Where's Gunn at?" Spike asked, trying to change the subject. He didn't feel like thinking about it so much.
"He is dying."




Spike entered the room Gunn lay unconcious in, quickly but silently. He was alone. Spike approached the bed and studied the quiet form silently.
"You're right, Blue. Stupid ponce...not supposed to block the axes with your face..."
"I can feel the life draining from him." Illyria turned to the blonde vampire, mesmerized. "I do not like it."
"Where's the poof?"
Illyria tilted her head at him. "I do not understand your strange monikers."
"Angel." He replied exasperated. "Where's Angel?"
"He lies unconcious. He too bleeds, heavily. He moans out loud as he sleeps."
"Chipper. He'll be fine." Spike replied, distracted. "You were right. Charlie boy here is gonna die. We gotta do something....but...." He sighed. It was too late for a hospital. They would never be able to heal him, and going outside seemed risky at best. So what? He would just...bleed to death? Spike sighed and turned away. He didn't want to think...he was so tired...Just then he heard a sound downstairs.
"Illyria, wait here. Ima check this rattling." Spike went into the hall, praying silently there wouldn't be a fight. No way could they all survive another tumble like that...and why had the minions retreated, anyway?
Spike rounded the corner to the stairs.
The last two people in the world he expected to see.
"Willow? And...Buffy....What?"




Alright, this isnt gonna be so much a season 6 episode-by-episode as a Spuffy centered cotinuation. reiew, pretty please? ill give you chocolate and sex?




Enter the security code shown below:
Note: You may submit either a rating or a review or both.