| A Fortune Told by Always_jbj |
| Chapter #3 - Chapter 2 |
| Chapter2 Letting himself into his tiny basement apartment, Spike felt a rush of exhaustion hit him. How long had it been since he last fed? Last slept? Going to the fridge, he poured himself a mug of blood and placed it in the microwave. His muscles ached, but he had no serious injuries. All he needed was food and rest and he would be healed by the time he woke. It amazed him that with everything they had faced tonight, the three of them had come through the battle fairly unscathed. Gunn and Wesley, of course, could not say the same and he allowed himself a moment to grieve for two men who had become ,if not friends, comrades over the past months. It was at that moment he decided he would go home. He had not stepped foot in England for nearly a hundred years and he suddenly felt homesick for something he knew had ceased to be his home many years ago. The England he would return to would be nothing like the one he had left behind, but with no other destination in mind, it was as good a place as any. Going to the microwave, he fetched his meal. Throwing his head back to down the mug full, he was totally unprepared for what happened next. His body retched in disgust as the blood hit his tastebuds, and when it hit the back of his throat, blood sprayed everywhere and he coughed hard, gasping to draw breath. His heart pounded as another fit of coughing seized him. His sleep deprived, exhausted brain took a moment to process each of these things. Gasping for breath? Heart racing? What the hell was going on here? Then he remembered, the strange voice, the weird white room that stretched on forever... Stilling himself as only a creature of the night could, he listened to the sound of his heart beating. He could hear his own blood racing through his veins. Concentrating he summoned his demon, nothing happened. Again he concentrated, reaching out with vampiric senses he could hear the roaches crawling in the walls, smell the filth from the garbage cans outside. Well now this was interesting, wasn’t it? ***************** More than 6 months had passed since Spike had last came to Buffy in her dreams. Sleep no longer held an escape from the constant ache his absence left behind. She threw herself even harder into her work, long hours spent with Giles and the few Watchers who had crawled out of the woodwork once the danger had passed. The Council was being rebuilt, but not the Council as it had been before. No, it was having a complete overhaul and she and Giles were right in there on the decision making. The endless rounds of meetings and planning sessions, of setting up the new school, tracking down young girls whose lives had changed dramatically overnight, coordinating with the seers and witches... All these activities, added to watching over Dawn and settling into their new life left her just exhausted enough so that at the end of the day she was able to fall into dreamless oblivion for a few hours. Only Buffy would soon awaken and begin the ritual over again. ************************** His first thought upon waking the next morning was ‘Buffy’. He was human now, he could go to her, be what she deserved. He waited for the usual twist of longing, the empty ache that only she could fill – it didn’t come. What was it the voice had said about the slayer? That’s it, he had been forced to love her! A geas, worse even than Red’s bloody spell that had had them making goo goo eyes at each other. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Surely his feelings for her had been real. But if they had been, why weren’t they there now? Sure, she was a tasty little thing and a hell of a shag, but did he love her? He thought back to their time together; years of insults and abuse, years of following her around like a fuckin’ trained monkey. Not once had it been good, not once had she given of herself. Well... that wasn’t completely true, he knew. Right at the end there, those last few nights he had felt her there with him, but was any of that real? She had thought they were all going to die, Surely that was all it was. Like that crumb she threw him as the world came crashing down around them in the Hellmouth, telling him she loved him, the words she knew he had ached to hear. But he could tell, he knew by her voice, the way she forced the words out that all they were was an offering to a dying man. Ha! The love of his life, the wonder that had caused him to remake himself to become a white hat, to fight for a soul, to give his life to save the bloody world because she was in the world, she was what he was saving. All a bloody lie, every bit of it! He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He wanted to rip heads off, to shove that blasted white room and its fancy fucking floor fair up the arse of the smug bastard with the self-satisfied voice. He had been played for a fool and he was furious! Never mind that he had been rewarded, he never asked for any bloody reward, never mind that he was free now to do as he pleased. HE, William the Bloody had been played like a worthless dupe! Storming out of the building and into the bright blazing sunlight, he set out in search of something he could kill. Vampires...demons... he didn’t care. The powers that sodding be were what he wanted, but failing that he would make do with what he could find. The warmth of the sunlight on his face, the miracle of his blood pounding with fury inside his veins did not even register; he was too caught up in bloodlust and rage. Those miracles could wait for another day to be appreciated. |