Snapshots of Eternity
by Slinkyspychokit


Chapter Fifteen: Dreams of Monsters
beta'd by oracleholly

He'd always heard that in the moment before death, the entirety of one's life passed before their eyes. Not for Spike, though. For him, he saw the dream. He always experienced the same dream without fail and without variation, leaving him disoriented upon waking, leaving him to wonder if any of it had ever really happened. It always reminded him of a conversation he'd had with Buffy around the time that her mum had come over all sickly. Those days he remembered fondly despite the gravity of Buffy's situation.

The Slayer had told him of a dream she had in which she had been pregnant and had given birth only to have the Council snatch the babe from her arms. Buffy had sworn upon waking that, somewhere in the world, that child still cried for her mother. Thinking of that dream now, Spike understood some of the reasons his unconscious mind had chosen Dawn as their child.

Was all a soddin' dream, mate. Nibblet being taken over by the Key. Buffy becoming a part demon. Eve, a daughter from the future come to take care of the poof. Cordelia being alive. It was just a dream.

Once Spike was able to separate the dream from reality, he focused on what was real.

What the holy bleedin' hell just happened?

One minute there had been serious monster mashing and an army of nasties parading up and down the streets of L.A. with a fire-breathing dragon starring in the role of grand marshal. Then there had a been a great, big flash- cuz you can just never have enough mysterious flashes of light- and then nothingness. No sky or ground or streets or rain. Just a great, big, black pit of nothing.

Feeling returned slowly to his body and Spike knew he was lying on something cold and hard. Testing his limbs, he discovered they were strapped down. In fact, he could feel several straps holding him down. His predicament suddenly dawned on him and he nearly groaned at the inconvenience of it all. The last thing he needed right now was for some well-meaning medic to mistake him for an actual corpse and stuff him in a body bag.

Stretching out his senses, the blond vampire picked up the distinct sounds of several heartbeats in the near vicinity. The heart rates indicated that neither being was very large, most likely women. Spike heard the barest whisper of a sound as a door opened and closed a moment before a familiar voice filled the air and had him sighing in utter relief.

********

Willow took in the faces of the two lab techs. The two startled lab techs stood between her and her vampire. Well, not technically mine. But, still.... She gave herself a mental shake and forced her mind back to business. Somewhere in this room- possibly in one of the drawers lining the walls- a card-carrying member of Club Dead was awaiting retrieval and transport back to his loved ones. In order to do her job and get Spike back to base, preferably in one piece and un-dusty, Willow had to get rid of the morgue employees.

"Leave," the witch told the two females in a cold, flat tone that brooked no argument. Of course, the black eyes and veins crisscrossing her face helpe emphasize her point. She'd possibly feel guilty about it later when Spike was safely on his way to headquarters and she was away from the stench of the wastelands formerly known as Los Angeles.

The door swung closed with a soft squeak and she nodded toward the young man who had accompanied her. "Keep watch."

Connor Reilly nodded dutifully and took up a post outside the morgue's entrance, leaving Willow alone with a roomful of sheet-covered corpses. Willow took several steps down the middle of the sterile room and turned herself in a circle. Closing her eyes, she called Spike through the telepathic link she shared with the inner circle of the Council. 'You awake, vampire?'

"I'm awake, witch," the Aurelian vampire assured her. Willow followed the sound of his voice to the far right corner of the room. "I'd wave, but those bloody techs strapped me down right proper. 'I s'pose they were thinking better safe than snack food. Think you might give us hand here, pet?"

Willow would have laughed if it were not the truth. In the years since the demon war had begun, those few humans with the stomach for it had stayed on in L. A. to help others in the heart of the Senior Partners' evil empire. Those humans were a lot smarter than she would have once accredited them; strapping down corpses they came across out of the uncertainty as to whether they were getting the body of a dead human or an unconscious vampire. If it were the latter, it would meet the business end of something extra sharp and pointy upon awakening.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever before Spike felt his bonds being removed and heard the slide of the zipper along his vinyl prison. The overhead fluorescent lighting was harsh to his sensitive eyes after the absolute, Stygian blackness he'd experienced since returning to awareness. He blinked several times, his eyes tearing as they attempted to re-adjust to the presence of the too-bright light.

"Here," Willow called in a soft, urgent tone as she tossed a pair of dark blue hospital scrubs his way. "It'll be a heck of a lot easier to make our getaway if we're not creeping down the hallway with a naked man in tow." She grinned devilishly and raked her black eyes over his form. Spike raised an eyebrow at the leering female as he quickly covered his modesty with the pilfered clothes and shoved his bare feet into the heavy combat boots she'd had the foresight to conjure from thin air.

"Who's the 'we' of this little outfit," he asked her as he tied the second boot.

"Escape now, chat later," Willow replied as she hurried to the door and poked her head out. A moment later, she held the door opened as a familiar redhead slipped inside. Spike smiled with genuine pleasure to see the young woman whom he had helped train in the months before the fall of Sunnydale.

"Company," Vivian Marx informed them.

"Take Spike," Willow ordered. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous point."

Spike bristled at the witch's insinuation that he couldn't look after himself. He was a bloody master vampire, for Satan's sake! Not some mewling pulser with no clue to the dangers surrounding him!

'Go, Spike.' Willow's voice filled his mind. 'I didn't fly halfway across the country with my own private Slayguard just to get you dusted. Buffy would kick my ass.'

'Fine, Red,' Spike replied telepathically. 'Once we're clear of this, you and I are gonna have us a confrontation.'

Willow glared hard at him for several long seconds before a secretive smile spread across her face. 'I'll be the one in the fuzzy, pink sweater with the lilac underneath,' Willow's smile turned into a full grin and she blew him a kiss before nudging him out the door. Vi gave him a salute when she saw him.

"Commander," she addressed stoically. "Nice to have you back." He nodded and her rigid stance relaxed, a playful smile curling her pouty lips. "The Chief'll have kittens."

"GO!" Willow hissed at the small trio. "Someone's coming!"

All business once more, Vi motioned for Spike to remain quiet and for Connor to lead the way with the vampire between them and herself bringing up the rear. Silently, the group hurried along until they were outside the hospital where Spike found a black van idling. Standing alert, military issue M-16 at the ready, the blond vampire was surprised to see a black clad Faith awaiting them. Even more surprising was the sight of Xander Harris behind the wheel, his eye surreptitiously surveying the surrounding area. Spike found himself oddly touched at seeing the group who'd come for him.

Faith's eyes met his, a grin of appreciation alighting her darkly beautiful face. "Batboy," she said by way of greeting. "What's shakin'?"

"Less talk, more running away," Harris urged the group.

"Red's still in there," Spike told the Whelp.

"She'll catch up," Vi assured her charge.

"Time to go," Connor suggested urgently as he climbed up into the van.

"Yeah," Faith agreed. "Preferably before the jelly squad notices they're down one corpse."

***

The trip to the airstrip took nearly an hour and delivered a nasty shock when Spike learned he would be making the trip tucked away within a coffin in the cargo bay. According to the very convincing Vi, she'd come to Los Angeles to claim her ex-husband's remains to be taken back to Cleveland for a proper burial in the family plot. Spike had to hand it to the young woman - she had missed her calling as an actress. Her little performance had been nothing short of award winning. As much as he'd love nothing better than to bitch about his less than accommodating accommodations, Spike was fairly certain that the commercial airline did not come with the added bonus of vampire-friendly windows. He really was going to miss necro-tempered glass.

Ah, well. At least Willow had promised to keep him company during the flight via telepathy.

******************

The acrid stench of torch smoke assailed her senses, jarring Buffy from the blissful, pain-free realm of sleep. As the last dregs of unconsciousness left her, the agony of her many healing wounds rushed back in and she was helpless to prevent the whimper that escaped her slightly parted lips. A cool face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, the low rumbling purr from her mate's chest attempting to soothe her as her brain separated dream from reality.

Voices nearby, garbled to her still groggy brain, alerted her to the presence of others. Instinct had her pressing closer to the body stretched along her own on the makeshift bed. Tentatively, she cracked open one eye to see the faces contained within the infirmary. Right away, she recognized Angel and Cordelia speaking quietly off in one corner. The former cheerleader's gaze was focused on something in her lap, too low below Buffy's immediate sight range for the Slayer to see what it was she held.

"What happened?" Buffy rasped from a throat that felt as though she had been swallowing glass.

Angel's dark, soulful eyes turned to her at the sound of her question. "What do you remember?"

What did she remember? Closing her eyes, Buffy tried to focus on what it was that she last recalled before she succumbed to a much needed restorative sleep. Nothing. She remembered Spike being taken by the First and Angel and his team coming to aide her in searching for her missing mate. The elder Aurelian, the Clan head, had ordered her to stay where she was safe lest she endanger the life of her unborn child.

Sudden panic filled her and her hands cradled her nearly flat abdomen. Tears welled in her eyes and she let out a low keen of utter desolation. The arms around her tensed, and a pair of blue eyes lifted above her shoulder to peer into her tearful gaze. "Pet?"

"The baby!" Buffy moaned.

"She's fine, Buffy." Cordelia stood and approached the prone couple, tiny, squirming bundle wrapped securely in her arms. The Seer perched herself on the edge of the bed and showed the blonde the small girl-child. "You don't remember what happened?"

Buffy reached out a trembling hand to stroke a finger across a silken cheek. "The First had Spike. You guys came to help. Angel made me stay with Giles and Robin while you all went to search the First's lair."

"It was a trap, luv," Spike told her. "Wood was in with Dru. She'd turned him. Rupert never knew what hit him, luv. I'm sorry. He'd set explosives once he got you out of the house. Guess Dru figured the perfect revenge was to force me to watch as she tortured and killed my mate, and my unborn child while I was chained to a bloody cave wall and helpless to stop it. By the time the others found us and dusted the principal, you'd already lost too much blood. Gramps and the cheerleader here took the baby. Had a choice. Let you go or turn you."

Spike's eyes filled with tears. "Just couldn't let you go."

The baby chose that moment to let loose with a series of shrill screams which oddly enough sounded like...

Buffy jerked awake and blindly reached for the still ringing telephone on her nightstand. Glancing blearily at the bedside clock, she saw that she'd only been asleep for a few hours. If it was a telemarketer, she was going to fucking disembowel someone. "You better be dying," she growled into the receiver.

"Ma'am?" a nervous voice asked.

Buffy sighed and sat up on the edge of her bunk. "What is it?"

The person on the other end of the line rambled on for several moments, the Slayer only paying half attention to the words until a familiar name was spoken and she forced herself to concentrate on the information. "He did what?!?" Fury cleared her mind of all grogginess as she lurched to her feet. "Fifteen minutes. He better be there when I get there."

Buffy disconnected the call without another word and stomped towards her shower, plotting the many painful things she was about to do to one scrawny, Transylvanian vamp with the bagful of showy gypsy tricks.

___________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Ever seen Jacob's Ladder? Excellent film about a war veteren of Viet Nam. It's fairly difficult to understand, as nothing seems to make any sense. Every scene seems disjointed and random. Then you get to the very end, the last scene, and you see that it was all done for a reason.

Now, don't worry, this isn't the end of our tale just yet. Still loads more to come. Hope you guys are still enjoying it. Thank you to all who have been keeping tabs and leaving a little note to lemme know what they thought.

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