"Don't look don't look" the shadows breathe
Whispering me away from you
"Don't wake at night to watch her sleep
You know that you will always lose
This trembling
Adored
Tousled bird mad girl... "
"Oh don't talk of love" the shadows purr
Murmuring me away from you
"Don't talk of worlds that never were
The end is all that's ever true
There's nothing you can ever say
Nothing you can ever do... "
Still every night I burn
Every night I scream your name
Every night I burn
Every night the dream's the same
Every night I burn
Waiting for my only friend
Every night I burn
Waiting for the world to end
-The Cure, "Burn"
*************************************
It was four-thirty in the morning when we landed at LAX. With no baggage to pick up, we had walked to the parking lot, the sun still a good three hours away. Luckily, my car was still where I had left it in the long-term parking; I would have been royally pissed had it been gone. The next tourists out of the airport would have found themselves being fed on as a pick-me-up. So it's a good thing it was there, for Buffy's sake. Damn Slayer is always trying to get me not to feed anyhow.
In silence we had gotten in the car, and in silence we drive. It's been about an hour now. I can't explain it, but the closer we get the more tension grows, like invisible tendrils reaching out and pulling us closer. Maybe its the energy of the Hellmouth.
Maybe its my reluctance to return to Dru.
I sneak a glance at the Slayer. Her forehead is pressed to the window, her eyes closed. She's not asleep though. I can tell.
I think she can feel my eyes on her because she murmurs, "Do you feel it?"
It is a light whisper, but with my hearing I easily pick it up. "Feel what?"
"The pull of the Hellmouth," she says matter-of-factly. "I never realized it before. I think it would be the same feeling you'd get if you drove your car off a cliff. The sickening sensation of willingly driving into danger."
My knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. "I don't feel it at all," I lie. "You're bloody crazy."
Her eyes still closed, she shrugs. The silence continues. We pass a sign that says "Sunnydale 20 Miles." My death grip with the steering wheel gets tighter. I don't remember ever being this nervous. Not even in Prague, when I thought I would lose Dru. Because I know now that I *am* going to lose her.
"Chill, Spike," she says, and I am about ready to rip out her throat. How can I chill? This is the longest I have ever been away from Dru. And I know that my resolve to let go of her will shatter and break the moment I see her again...
My foot pushes the pedal to the floor. Might as well get it over with, right? Buffy looks nervous, but doesn't say anything. The brave little Slayer, I think mockingly.
Just as we pass the ten mile sign, I see red and blue lights in the rear view. I slam my hand against the steering wheel and let loose a volley of curses. Buffy just rolls her eyes.
"That's what you get for going 110," she says.
I want to tell her to bloody well shut up when there's a knock on the window. The officer wants me to step out of the car! Of all the lousy bloody luck...
"Stay here," I tell her, and get out. I give the man my most charming smile. "Yes, officer?" I ask innocently.
He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms, trying his damndest to look important. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going, son?" he asks, arrogance just dripping out of his voice.
I look at the horizon. The sun will be up in less than an hour. I don't have time for this crap. I look him dead in the eye. "Not nearly as fast as I can drain you of all your blood," I say, letting all the emotion drain from my voice. I don't scream the threat. I don't have to. My blank eyes and cold face tell him that I don't care more than the words do. I don't care about anything at this moment; I could kill him with no thought of what the Slayer would do to me, or what it would do to our plans. It means nothing to me...nothing but a meal.
I wait until that look of confusion on his face turns to horror. Then I lunge at him, grabbing him by his shoulders and sinking my teeth into his neck. I barely get two drops when I feel something hit the back of my head. I drop him and turn around.
It's the Slayer. Of course.
"Get off him, Spike," she warns.
"Come on, luv. I'm hungry."
There's a sharp jab to the left side of my face. Automatically, my arm goes back; I'm about to swing. But even though she can easily take it, I stop myself. "Fine!" I sigh, relaxing my vamp face, and kick the unconscious trooper in the ribs. Damnit, I really *was* hungry. I get back into the car and slam the door.
Buffy doesn't get in right away. I look in the rear view, and I see her carrying the trooper into his car. He'll probably wake up thinking it was some strange dream caused by too many donuts. Until he takes a look at his neck, that is.
The door opens and then is slammed shut. "Don't do that again," she tells me harshly. I peel off the side of the road and back onto the highway, aggravated.
"Fine. I won't do it around you. But don't expect me to not feed. I'm not like your little Angel," I hiss at her. I can't help it. Doesn't the bitch understand that I'm *hungry*? She got to eat on the plane!
My anger replaces my nervousness now, and as we enter Sunnydale I am weary from the tense silence. Why can't this just be over and done with? I take the route to her house, but she grabs my arm.
"No," she says emphatically.
I give her a curious glare. I'm about to mock her when I realize the futility of it. Make fun of her, she'll just make fun of me. And I'm not in much of a good mood right now.
"I can't go back there...I can't face them," she explains quietly.
"So now what?" I say, exasperated. "Are you just turning your back on me? What about Angel?" I stress his name.
She shakes her head. "No, you idiot. I just can't face...them; my mom, my friends, Giles...I can't face them right now. I don't want to go home. I'll stay at one of the motels for now."
"Don't you think you should at least talk to Giles about the spell Dru is using?" I ask.
"Look, Spike. There's not much to figure out. Dru brings Angel back, he has a soul, the two of us live happily ever after," she says dryly.
"Sure. Fine. Whatever." I am annoyed. She can stay in a motel and not face what she has left behind, but I can't. I have to return to Dru and pretend that everything is alright, pretend that I don't know Angel has his soul so that Dru will work the spell. She wouldn't bother if she knows its not her Angelus.
I drop the Slayer off in silence at a motel near the edge of town. She can bloody well pay for her own room, I think to myself as she gets out of the car. "I'll meet you here at midnight," I inform her, "to let you know what Dru is doing."
"Fine," she says, and slams the door. God, what an aggravating girl! I peel out of the parking lot, trying to beat the suns rays, coming ever closer to the last place on earth I want to be.
***************************************************
I get to the mansion only minutes before sunrise. I stand outside, reluctant to go in, but knowing that I will be no more than a pile of ashes if I don't. I square my shoulders, take a last drag on my cigarette, and stride up to the front door. Opening it, I resist the urge to lessen my nervousness by calling out, "Lucy, I'm home!" in a bad Spanish accent. I would only wake her. Dru usually sleeps before dawn comes, though it's not routine; the sun just spooks her a bit.
*I don't like it, Spikey. It tries to hurt me. I don't like to be hurt!*
Quietly, I take the stairs up to the master bedroom. Either there's no one on patrol or they're extremely inept. My guess is the former, given that they know the Slayer had left town, but the latter wouldn't surprise me either. Most of the vampires I've dealt with are utter morons.
My hand pauses on the door knob. I remind myself of what I'd decided on that plane; my Dru is gone. The Dru who loved me is gone.
With great trepidation I open the door. Dark tendrils of her hair lie splayed across her pale face. It takes all my strength, all my will power, not to touch that smooth cheek with my finger; to kiss her lips and feel her awaken under me. The dark shades over the window are drawn tight; only the minimal light from the hallway illuminates her. It takes me to another time, long ago, when she was still Angelus'. Before she was mine. When by candlelight I would come and watch her sleep, tormented and jealous.
I feel that way again.
She whimpers and turns, the covers falling away from her. The white satin of her nightgown barely conceals a body I have spent many lifetimes seeing, touching, loving. Self control becomes a thing of the past. I brush the hair out of her face, bend down and kiss her forehead, grazing my lips lightly over her eyelids, her cheeks, her throat; everywhere but her lips. She stirs beneath me, her hands find my hair and pull my head down; her lips claim mine. I surrender to her possession, to her tongue as she pushes it into my mouth, to her teeth as she bites on my lip. I can taste my blood.
She pulls me down into the bed with her. Lying next to her, feeling her coldness against mine, I feel almost complete. Almost whole. But only almost. Because when I look into her eyes, it's different. I used to see the future in her eyes; I would look at her and know that no matter what happened or how times would change, she would be there with me.
But now as I look into them, I see none of that. I see only the past, a love old and...and gone. Her eyes were the only mirrors I could ever see myself in. They absorbed my love, reflected it back. But now, it's different. Something has changed. I know I shouldn't be doing this. I know this is wrong. But I've spent my life doing things I shouldn't do; I can't help myself. I surrender to temptation. I succumb to insanity.
************
I awake to the feeling of cold flesh on flesh. Of Dru's chest flush against mine, her arms entwined around my torso. My fingers trace idle patterns on the small of her back, her skin so smooth, so perfect.
How can I give this up?
The light from behind the shades is dim. I can tell that it is nearly sunset. Dru shifts a bit, her leg rubbing against mine. I clutch her tighter. She sighs, a small moan of contentment. I decide that this is the best time to ask her about the spell. Halfway between sleep and reality, she won't be as suspicious.
"Dru?" I whisper, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She murmurs an acknowledgement. "Dru...where did you get the spell you're going to use to bring back Angelus?" I ask casually.
I can see a small grin creep up the corners of her face, but her eyes are still closed. "It was in a book," she answers matter-of-factly. Dru can be quite the smart ass if she wants to be.
I roll my eyes. "What book, doll face?"
"The one I stole from the tweed-man's library." She giggles and makes that adorable little snarling noise she does.
"You didn't kill him, pet, did you?" I definately don't want to feel Buffy's wrath if she finds out her Watcher is dead.
"No..." She yawns. "He's fun...to play with. I should invite him over for some tea with Miss Edith one day..." Her voice trails off.
She rubs her face against my chest, a sign that she's going back to sleep. "Where's the book at, luv?" I ask. Knowing her, it's probably serving as Miss Edith's newest tea table.
She manages to point one long, elegant finger at the nightstand before drifting back to sleep. I can't reach it without letting go of her, so instead I just wrap her tighter around me. I breathe in the scent of her; of her hair, her skin...
I kiss her forehead and she snuggles against me. "Dru," I whisper, not wanting to wake her, not wanting to ask her anything...just wanting to say her name as I feel her against me.
"My Angel," she whispers, lost in some dream.
I cannot even describe the pain I feel in me now. It's like icicles injected into my blood stream, like suffocating. My whole body feels numb, while my mind races.
I don't know if she thought I was him, or if she was just thinking about him. I don't care. There is a sordid cocktail of emotions flowing through my veins: anger, jealousy, hurt, betrayal, fury...
I knew this was a bad idea! I know she only causes pain. Why? Why do I submit myself to torture over and over?
Roughly, I shove her off me. She whimpers, but doesn't awaken. Rummaging through the drawer of the nightstand I find the book. I pick up my clothes, strewn in random piles around the bed, and dress more quickly than I have ever done in my life.
The bedroom door slams after me. One of the mindless minions stands in my way, on some sort of pathetic excuse for patrol. I snap his neck as I walk by. I really, really wish I had a stake right now. I could ram it through him, his face blurring, my anger alchemizing it into the visage of Angelus.
How I hate him. How I utterly, thoroughly hate that bloody bastard.
How I hate her. For loving him.
And how I hate myself, for loving her.
*********************************************
I knock on the motel door. It's more than three hours to midnight, but I had nowhere else to go. And I couldn't stay there.
The Slayer opens the door, and to her credit, does not give the surprised look I swore she would have given me. Instead, it's almost smug. Almost 'I told you so.'
Like I care if some seventeen year old thinks she's smarter than me. Thinks she knows my lover better than I do. Like I care about anything at all.
I stand there and hop from one foot to the other, impatiently. "Are you going to invite me in, or let me bloody stand here all night?" I bark.
The Slayer shrugs. "Come in," she says and steps aside. I swagger in, trying to act like there is nothing wrong. I plop down on the double sized bed, crooking my knee and resting my arm on it. I slouch into the pillows and pat the empty mattress beside me, making it a point to leer at her.
She gives me a look that says 'cut that out or I will stake your sorry ass.' I sigh and sit normally, giving up this charade.
"What happened? You were supposed to come here at midnight...it's not even nine yet," she inquires.
''I got the spell book," I tell her, pretending not to hear her question. I hand it to her. She takes it, her eyes locking onto mine and not giving up.
"What happened?" she demands.
I stand up and angrily swipe at the ugly lamp on the nightstand, sending it crashing into the wall. "What happened is *none* of your business, Slayer!" I yell.
She remains cool and composed. "Touchy much, Spike?" she retorts.
"Let's just look over the spell...I have to bring it back before Dru gets suspicious." I fill my voice with exasperation.
"Fine," she acquiesces, but in a tone that lets me know she isn't letting this go. Oh well. We'll fall off that horse when we jump over that bridge. Or something like that, since that made no sense. Bloody stupid American expressions.
Buffy is flipping through the book, looking totally lost and confused. "Don't tell me it's all in Latin," I warn her.
"Well then," she sighs, "looks like I'm not speaking to you for right now."
I groan. Why is everything in Latin? She stops flipping through the book. Dru has one page marked off with a dried flower. "That's got to be it," I tell the Slayer.
"Thanks. I didn't know."
I shrug. "No problem."
She gives me a piercing gaze. "In case you didn't realize it, that was Mr. Sarcasm talking."
"Oh."
Her eyes once again lock with mine, and I want to shift out of her stare. But I stand my ground and stare back. "What?" I finally ask, quite curtly.
"You really are out of it, aren't you?"
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." I grab the book out of her hand.
"Give that back." She flashes those blue eyes angrily at me.
"Why? Unless you are a Latin scholar, that is." I chuckle evilly. "And by the way, luv, that was Mr. Sarcasm talking."
"So you can read Latin? I'm shocked just knowing you can read," she comments dryly.
"Oh, that was an insult wasn't it? Ha-bloody-ha...aren't we just witty tonight?" I scan the spell, mostly to avoid the look I'm sure she's giving me right now. The one that has more intensity than lasers.
My Latin blows, but it's better than hers anyday. And this spell is a bitch to translate. I put it down in exasperation. "Why don't you get that limey librarian to help us, Slayer?"
Her face hardens. "You know I can't," she says, her tone hoarse and her voice low.
"Fine...then this is what I can make of it. Though we might have to go to the bookstore and pick up a Latin dictionary," She sits on the empty side of the bed, and I place the book between us. "This part here," I point, "says something about a portal opening between this world and Hell. Then down here," I motion again with my finger, "it says it will bring one back. It also says that there are two ways for the portal to close. One is to have the returnee come through. The portal would automatically close behind them."
I know the next part is going to get to her. "Or, much like that whole Acathla nonsense," I sneak a glance at her and can see the tenseness in her body, "it can be closed by blood. By a mortal's blood." She nods. "I think all Dru has to do is read it...I don't even think that there is any other sort of ritual needed."
"Well then, can't you or I just do it and get it over with?" she asks, oh-so innocently.
"What the hell are you, stupid?" I laugh. "Have you ever cast a spell that opens a portal to *Hell* before?" At her lack of response I continue. "I didn't think so. You have no spell casting experience...I don't think it would be wise for you to do it. Nor for me. We can't even pronounce the Latin right...who knows what would happen. It's a second language for Dru. And this is her area of expertise. Sort of."
"*Sort of*?" she asks snottily.
"Well, sometimes she doesn't do them right," I admit.
"Oh, that's...how would *you* say it...'bloody wonderful'," she snaps, mimicking my accent. "How do we know she isn't gonna mess up this one?"
"We don't," I answer matter-of-factly. "That's why I asked you to bring in the Watcher. But since you refused, we can only hope that for...ugh, Angelus'," I drawl out his name in mockery, "sake, she will try to do her best and get everything right."
"Well," she sighs, "at least there aren't any sacrifices needed for this spell."
"Um...yeah." What does she expect me to say? I don't give a damn if people are sacrificed.
"So when is Dru performing it?"
"A full moon is required. How typical." I close my eyes and think. "Which would be this Friday."
"No problem," Buffy says succinctly. Then a shadow creeps across her face. "So, um, what do we do?"
I scratch my head. "I guess I'll stay with her, pretend like there's nothing wrong, be eager to bring...him...back. I'll be with her during the ritual, and you can be uh, hiding somewhere. Angel comes back, soul intact, you come out of the shadows and reunite with him. Dru and I leave town."
She shakes her head. "No good? You want to hang with me and Dru while she does the ritual?" I say sarcastically.
"No, Spike. You know you can't go back to Dru."
I growl. "You are not my keeper, Slayer. You can't tell me what to do."
She shows no fear at my anger; she just looks at me, so gravely it's hard to believe she is only seventeen. "I know. But believe it or not, Spike, I want to help you. Because you're helping me to bring Angel back."
"And you think telling me to leave the woman I love is a good thank-you note?" I can't follow this girl's logic.
"Spike! She's only going to hurt you. It's as plain as day!"
With no emotion, I say, "I haven't seen the day in nearly 200 years."
She sits in silence for awhile. "Besides," I add, and am embarassed and angered at the amount of emotion in my voice, "once she sees that Angelus is gone, that his soul is returned, she'll come back to me." Very quietly, I murmur, "She did it before."
Buffy's eyes narrow and I realize with horror my mistake. In wanting to prove myself to her, I am revealing my history. My personal story, not some crap recorded by Watchers long dead and rotted.
"She was with him..." Buffy starts, but trails off, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together in her mind.
"Until the gypsies restored his soul." I hang my head so I don't have to face her. "Angelus made me nearly 200 years ago. He, Darla, and I hung together for about 60 years. Then Darla left, right around the time Angelus began his obsession with Dru. Whether she left because of it, or if her leaving was the cause of his obsession, I don't know. And I don't care either. Darla annoyed the piss out of me. "
I sneak a glance out the corner of my eye. She is nodding slightly, and could it be...compassion? Yes, compassion is in her eyes. Bloody hell.
"Don't feel pity for me, Slayer." I gather my thoughts and continue. "I loved her from the moment I set eyes upon her. Truly loved her. Shocked the hell out of me too. For 60 years I felt nothing but bloodlust, nothing but the demon inside me. She changed me. I can't explain it. I would look at her and feel almost..." I leave the last word off, censoring myself just in time. Whether or not she picked up on it, I can't tell. If she did, she lets it slide.
"For nearly half a century, the one thing I wanted most in this world was not mine. Sometimes a look, a stolen kiss; sometimes more than that...but it was Angelus who made her world turn. How she cried on that night when his soul returned; she just held me and cried for hours. It made her even crazier. But she was mine. There was no Angelus to compete with. I knew back then that she loved me, but not as much as she loved him. So I vowed to make her love me more. I gave her everything I could; I gave her everything she ever wanted. And I truly believed that she did love me more than him. And then he came back..." I can feel my vamp face come out.
"He killed her family. He made her insane. He treated her like a doll to be played with and then thrown around, the very same thing she does to Miss Edith." I run a hand in my hair, trying to calm down. My face relaxes.
"She was my Princess. She still is. She..."
"She made you feel almost human," Buffy interrupts. Eyes wide, my head snaps around to look at her. My anger fades though, when I see she is not mocking me. There are even tear streaks along her face.
"I swear," I say with utter conviction in my voice, "if you let that get out, I will kill you. And your loved ones."
"I won't," she answers plainly. No jibe about her kicking my ass if I tried to kill her, no reaction to my icy tone. Just an agreement to keep it secret. To keep my greatest flaw from getting out and ruining me.
Silence has its say for awhile. But then she breaks it. "So, Spike...this kink in your I'm-a-soulless-vamp-armor...is that the reason you try to be a bad-ass all the time?"
"Luv, I don't *try* to be a bad-ass...I *am* one. Always have been. Always will be." I grin, and she grins back. It seems the vamp and the Slayer have reached another truce. I laugh to myself, wondering just how many minutes it'll take before we break it.