Spike swallowed and stepped forward into the mists. All at once he understood why Death spent most of her time away from her realm.
It was creepy.
Spike shivered in the damp air and pressed on. He became aware of whispers along the edges of his hearing but whenever he tried to focus on what was being said, they slipped away. It was annoying to say the least.
Dream had explained the only beings that resided in the realm of Death were those unprepared to move on to their final destinations. The monk had unfinished business and refused to budge.
Spike slipped past some twisted, white trees and found himself in field of yellow grass. A slumped figure in a brown cloak sat alone.
“Hey, um, I don't suppose you know anything about a girl, about fifteen, came out of nowhere just yesterday?” Spike sauntered forward.
“I am of the order that created her.” The monk's voice was without animation.
Spike stopped when he came to the dead man's side, “And why did you do that?”
The man turned to face him and Spike took a full step back in shock.
The face was a gory mess and the eyes had been removed forcibly, “We needed to hide it from The Beast.”
Spike struggled to close his hanging jaw, “Er, right. And this Beast thing has what to do with Dawn, exactly?”
“The Beast seeks the Key. We have hidden it from her. We chose the form of a human girl and placed her under the Slayer's protection.”
“Oh, so you just saddled into town and messed up everyone's memories because you just needed a hiding spot?” Spike's nervousness vanished with the rise of his ire.
“It needed to be done. If the Beast finds the Key and uses it, the world will be destroyed.”
Spike licked his lips, “How do you White Hats always have an 'I was just saving the world' excuse ready? Never mind. So this Beast thing wants to use Dawn to do what?”
“The Key opens the doorway to all dimensions. The Beast wants to return to hers.”
“And where is the Beast from?”
“It's a branch of Hell close to the Eighth Ring.” The monk sat up a little straighter and something akin to a smile crossed his face.
“What are you so happy about? So this Beast is a sort of demon? Is it in Sunnydale already?” Spike moved closer, desperate for an answer.
“My time is nearly here. You must be my unfinished business. Soon I will have my eternal reward.” The monk gazed upwards.
“Right, congratulations. Now can you just answer my questions?”
“The Beast is not a demon, she is a god. She arrived at the Hellmouth a few weeks ago. Oh, my God.” The monk's face healed before Spike very eyes and he vanished quite suddenly.
Spike was left shivering in a dead field in the dark.
“Thank you for taking care of that one. He's been kind of annoying.” A sweet voice rose from behind him.
Spike turned to see Death herself walking towards him smiling.
“Oh, um, listen. About the whole here without invitation thing…” He began.
Death giggled, “It's fine, Wanderer. You may come and go as you please.” She looked distracted just then and stared off into space, “Oh, dear. Someone has just had a toilet fall on him. Duty calls. I'll see you around, Spike.”
Spike was about to ask how he could leave the field when Buffy shook him awake.
“Spike, have you seen my patchwork skirt? The one we bought at American Eagle last week? I want to wear it the first day and I can't find it.” Buffy started going through boxes like a mad woman.
Spike shook his head and stared at the ceiling. As far as secrets went, this was a lulu.
He got out of bed and helped Buffy unpack her clothes.
* * *
It isn't like I can just blurt it out, Spike thought, stirring the Weetabix in his blood. Yeah, that would go over well. 'Oh, by the way, Buffy, you sister's not really your sister. She's something called the Key and a Hell god is after her.'
Spike immediately checked to make sure he hadn't actually said that out loud. No one reacted. He breathed out a sigh of relief.
“You're awfully quiet this morning.” Buffy commented while spooning yogurt onto her fruit salad.
“Just thinking.” Spike said quietly.
“Oh, is that where all the smoke is coming from.” Tara said playfully walking past and ruffling his hair.
Spike smiled wanly. This was bad. This was really bad.
And he couldn't keep a secret to save his unlife.
He watched Buffy cheerfully eating her breakfast and studying her new class schedule. She was so happy. They'd both been so happy.
Summer had past like an endless dream. They'd gone on a road trip to the Gaia Festival; they'd spent days on end at the beach. Hours upon hours had been spent in the garden, barefoot sipping Tara's lemonade and talking. He remembered not a single moment of unpleasantness. They'd laughed so much and played like children.
But this, this was a noose hanging over their heads. The second he unburdened his secret unto Buffy's innocent head, she would lose that carefree air she'd taken on since they had gotten together. The lines that she'd had around her eyes when he'd first come to town would reappear. They were worry lines, lines of stress and unhappiness.
And he would have to be the one to put them there.
His breakfast was not terribly appetizing that morning.
* * *
That night, Spike babysat Dawn while Joyce went out. They watched inane movies and gorged on junk food like they always did.
Or rather, how those monks implanted the memory of something they always did. Spike was still staggered by the extent of the false memories.
Just after Dawn went up to bed, Buffy returned from patrol looking battered and decidedly worse for wear.
Spike immediately began cooing and fussing over her bruises and torn clothes, “What happened, pet? Some nasty thing find another nasty thing and they both ganged up on you?”
“No, it was just one nasty. But it was a bad nasty. I felt so helpless, Spike. She was really strong, stronger than strong. No matter what I did I couldn't make a difference. I finally got away. I RAN away.” Buffy looked shaken, she laid her head on his shoulder.
“Oh, no.” Spike said bleakly.
“What oh no? Do you know something about this oh no?” Buffy sat up anxiously.
“I was trying to think of a way to tell you about this, I thought I'd have a little more time.” Spike picked at the sofa fabric.
“Tell me.” Buffy said flatly.
* * *
After Spike finished his tale, they both sat in total silence. Spike was briefly afraid Buffy wouldn't even believe him, but she turned to him then.
“I knew something was wrong. I could feel it when I looked at Dawn but I thought that was me being crazy.” Buffy stared straight ahead.
Spike licked his lips and remained silent, knowing she had more to say.
“How am I going to fight a god, Spike?” Buffy asked suddenly.
“Don't rightly know, love. But you won't be fighting alone, for what it's worth.”
Buffy gave him a weak smile and placed her head on his shoulder again, “This is beyond trippy. The others are never going to believe this. I can barely believe it. On one hand I think it's Dawn, it's my sister. She's been my sister forever. One the other hand she feels like an intruder and I have no idea who she is.”
“I expect that's the Slayer bit of you, recognizing what she is and all. But she is your sister Buffy. Like it or not, she's in our lives for good. We have to keep her away from the Hell bitch. And she doesn't know about any of this.” Spike rubbed her back soothingly.
Before Buffy could comment, Joyce breezed through the front door, “Did Dawn behave herself, Spike?”
“As always, Joyce, you raised her right.” Spike tried to sound as casual and unconcerned as possible.
“Oh, good. The gallery event was a complete success! You should have seen the job the caterers did!” Joyce continued to chatter about the food while Buffy and Spike tried hard to listen, minds still far away and focused on recent revelations.
* * *
|
