------------------------
Chapter 6 - Nebulae
------------------------
30 minutes later
* * * * *
She climbed out of the tub and into his outstretched arms. He slipped a towel around her shoulders as she leant her head quietly against his chest, soaking his shirt with her wet hair. She slipped a wet hand under the waistband of his pants and traced it down the hard curve of his hip. He held her by her shoulders and pushed her back a bit.
“Buffy, you shouldn’t. You don’t know what you’re doing here, love.”
“Touching you.” She buried her head into the curve of his shoulder and inhaled deeply. “Touching, smelling…” She plunged her hand down the front of his pants and touched and stroked the tip of his swelling erection. She gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. “You want me.”
Spike closed his eyes. His body shivered with desire. He bent his head until it rested against hers and whispered, “Always…always…”
She nuzzled her face against his, seeking his lips. She slid her hand down to the base of his cock and began a slow rhythmical motion.
“Buffy…love…do you want me?”
“Do those bad things that you do…”
“But do you want me?”
“Don’t talk…just…just…” She swayed a bit.
“Just what, love? Just shag you?” He pushed her away. “Not like this.”
“Why? Why not?”
“Because you’ll hate me in the morning. And just walk away. As you always do. No going there again, love.”
Spike wrapped the towel around her tightly and led her into his bedroom. He sat her down on the bed, gave her another towel, and instructed her to try to dry her hair.
“You’ll catch cold. Sleeping with wet hair.”
He turned his back to her. It was unbearable to have her here in his room, naked and vulnerable and wanting him. Even if it was just the alcohol speaking through her, he wanted to believe her words, but he knew it was just a fool’s dream. He wouldn’t take advantage, wouldn’t allow himself to be wrapped up in her willing soft body. He’d let her sleep here for a few hours until she sobered up and then send her home. And then he’d never see her again.
“Because…?” he thought to himself, “Because of the god damned bloody soul!!”
“What do YOU know ‘bout colds? Vampire’s icy and bad. Bad…” she interrupted his train of thought.
“Yeah. Bad. Heard it before. Just how long does it take you to sober up Slayer?”
At that moment, Rigel called to them from downstairs, “Watch out! She’s coming. Oh, my!”
There was a scrambling, scratching sound on the stairs and suddenly, Miss Maisa, as Rigel called her, came scampering in the door, still soaking wet. She looked back and forth between Spike and Buffy; sniffed the air, and then ran over to Spike and proceeded to shake all the water out of her fur.
“I’m cursed,” Spike exclaimed, moving swiftly across the room, trying to escape from the wet dog. He tripped over Buffy’s outstretched leg, cracked his head against the iron bedstead, and landed face down on the floor. Miss Maisa ran up to him and started to lick the blood off his face.
“Rigeeeel! Get up here! Now!”
“But you told me to never come upstairs, Spike. Are you sure…sure?” Rigel’s frail voice echoed up the stairwell.
“Bloody hell, you daft demon! I’m being attacked! I’m dying up here!”
“Vampire Dog!” Buffy started laughing, and then put her hand over her mouth. “Think I’m gonna be sick…”
Spike tried to get up off the floor to help her, but a sharp pain shot up through his right leg, and he lay back again with a moan. Buffy stood up, stepped regally, if not a little wobbly, over his prone body and firmly down onto the fingers of his left hand. She then marched into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a slam.
“I think you broke your ankle,” Rigel said as he helped Spike up off the floor.
“Don’t worry. Vampire here. It’ll heal in an hour or so. Ah…would you take your little dog and …hmm…let’s see. Do dogs swim?”
“You mustn’t think bad thoughts about Miss Maisa, Spike. Don’t bite her. Please? She was sent here for you, you know.”
“All I know is I’ve been completely thrashed here tonight by two wet females who seem to take great pleasure in giving me pain. And all I tried to do was help. Brilliant. What a stunning life I lead. God help me, where’s a stake when you need one?”
* * * * *
An hour later, Spike finally got Buffy tucked into bed. She was snoring loudly. Rigel got Maisa, the dog, dry and settled into a small bed he’d made for her in his room.
“Here’s a cup of blood for you. Know you won’t be able to take those stairs for a while.” Rigel handed Spike, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, the warm cup.
Rigel paused at the door. “My, she’s very noisy, isn’t she?”
“A regular, bleeding freight train. Fits right in.”
A few seconds later they heard the long, low train whistle from the early morning Amtrak Express.
“Well goodnight…er…good morning, Spike. Have sweet dreams my friend.” Rigel thumped slowly down the stairs.
“Not if I can help it! Not falling asleep in this room again,” Spike muttered. He looked down at Buffy and grimaced. “You can have the damned sweet dreams, pet!”
He took off his wet clothes, curled up on the end of the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep. He’d left the curtains wide open.
* * * * *
She was naked and wandering through an open, lush meadow encircled by tall Sycamore and Maple trees in full leaf. Everything around her was deep green and fertile, brimming with life. The grass under her bare feet was wet with dew or a light spring rain.
“Definitely not in Sunnydale. Where am I?” she wondered.
She didn’t feel lost. Her slow movement through the meadow felt like a memory. The air was thick and sweet, and with each breath, she felt a curious tingling swell inside her lungs. In the center of the meadow was a thick grove or ring of trees, with twisted, sand colored branches. As she approached, a sweet, wild scent wafted toward her. It was a lilac grove. She climbed into the center of the lilac ring and curled up on a soft bed of moss. She stretched out her hand and touched the pale, smooth bark of one of the branches.
“So soft,” she murmured and closed her eyes, “And cold…hard…so sweet.”
She had the odd sensation that the tree was bending down over her, embracing her. She rolled over onto her back and spread her knees apart, and slid her other hand delicately over her breasts, down her stomach and down between her legs. She ached with desire, ached to be filled, and touched. She rubbed herself slowly, willing him, calling to him in her mind, to come to her.
“I’m right here, love.”
She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. He was kneeling before her. His ivory skin glistened with moisture from the humid air.
“I want you. Always.” His voice was thick with lust, his body aroused and ready to pleasure her. He took her hand from between her legs and lifted it up to his lips. He slowly licked her fingertips, his eyes half closed and staring at her with desire. “Now?” he murmured, “Do you want me now?”
She entwined her fingers in his and pulled him down on top of her. She wove her legs around his hips and pulled him slowly inside her. “Now…always.”
* * * * *
Someone was tenderly suckling her breast and thrusting deeply into the very core of her being. She couldn’t tell where her skin ended and his began, as they slipped softly, back and forth against each other. All she could feel was the deep pleasure of being filled up and loved. Oh this man loved her. Loved her. She could feel it with every touch, so full of tender, wild passion. She felt the tears flowing down her cheeks. She didn’t know how long she’d been crying.
“What an incredible dream I’m having,” she thought, “Don’t want it to end… ever…don’t want to wake up.”
At that moment she opened her eyes and with a shock realized that the man who was making love to her was Spike. And it wasn’t a dream. Light from the early morning sun was pouring through the window. She was in a strange room. In a strange bed. Having sex with a vampire.
“Get off!” she exclaimed. She tried to struggle away from him.
* * * * *
He stopped moving as soon as he heard her cry, and felt her try to pull away. He rolled off her and lay on his back.
“What happened?” He stared at the ceiling, his eyes wide with despair, his voice full of confusion. “I didn’t mean to touch you, must have been dreaming. I’m so sorry…sorry.” He started to get up from the bed.
She suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
“Don’t you go. Don’t go.”
She turned over on her side and rested her arm across his stomach; her hand clutched his side and kept him from moving away from her.
“What are you doing to me? I’m going mad here…I’m going…”
“The window, Spike,” she said, “You almost walked into the sunlight.”
“Should’ve just let me go.” He tried to struggle out of her grasp.
She climbed on top of him, pinning him to the bed. Her face was flushed and fierce.
“God help me. I’d just die if anything happened to you. Got that? Got that you evil, undead vampire?!”
She grasped his wrists and stretched his arms over his head.
Fear flashed briefly in his eyes as she stared down at him in anger.
“Why did you come back? Why?” she moaned.
She moved her hips down his body until she felt the tip of his cock forcing apart the wet and swollen lips of her sex. She pushed back with a quick motion until he penetrated her completely. And she began to move against him, riding him, possessing him, driving him mad with her frenzy, until he could take it no longer.
He ripped his wrists out of her grasp and, grabbing her hips in his hands, he pushed himself deep and hard inside her. He begged her, pleaded with her to come.
She couldn’t let go. She was desperate for this to continue, to never end.
“I can’t!” she cried, “Don’t stop…don’t…”
He pulled her down against his body, found her lips, and gave her a long, deep kiss.
“There, there, sweetness.” He brushed his fingers lightly over her forehead, pushing her tangled hair away from her face. There’s no rush…I won’t stop,” he whispered.
He moved his hips in a gentle motion, pushing his cock in and out of her in a slow, sensuous rhythm.
“I can do this for hours, love. Days. Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
“Want you to make love to me. Make me come…once for every day…for every day you left me alone.”
“I can do that,” he smiled.
“And…”
“What?” he laughed.
“Will you close the curtains?”
* * * * *
Five hours later, they heard a frantic scratching at the bedroom door.
TBC
-------------------------------
Chapter 7 - The Scorpion
-------------------------------
November 21st 5:00 a.m.
It was sunrise when Xander and Mark finally dropped Dawn off at Revello Drive.
“Hey, Dawny…ah…don’t wake your sister up…she might be a little upset about how late we got you home. Let her sleep in and I’ll ‘fess up to her myself tomorrow.”
“OK…bye you guys…and thanks…I really had fun…I…” Dawn gave a big yawn. She waved goodbye.
Xander waited until Dawn was safely inside the house and then drove off.
“Why do I always end up falling for women who are in love with someone else?” Mark complained.
“Who? Dawn? Who’s she in love with? Supposed to have a big crush on me,” Xander joked.
“No. Not Dawn. Buffy. She’s got it bad, so I hear.”
“Buffy? Got it bad? No way!”
“That’s not what her little sister says.”
“Did she say who it was?”
“Not really. Just said her sister had a broken heart.”
Xander felt a sudden flush of anger. Spike. He knew it was Spike.
“Why did that worthless piece of undead flesh come back to ruin our lives again?” he fumed to himself. “Someone has got to do something about Spike. Guess it’ll have to be me.”
* * * * *
November 21st 10:30am
Xander had tried to sleep after he drove Mark home, but he kept thinking about their conversation. He needed to find out what Spike was up to. Needed to do something, anything.
“Dead boy ruined my life. Not gonna let him do it again.”
He got dressed and drove his car to the desolate neighborhood where Spike now lived. He parked his truck several blocks from the old house on Orion. He locked the truck and searched for a safe place to spy on the house. He found a small niche in the entryway of an abandoned building across the road, and squeezing himself into the protected corner, he stood and stared at the front door of 53 Orion.
About a half hour later his patience was rewarded when he saw the front door open. His heart fell when he recognized who walked out the door. It was Buffy. And Spike. Spike put his arms around Buffy, and they clung to each other for a few minutes. Buffy literally skipped down the stairs. Her face was glowing. She had on a dark gray coat, but it was unbuttoned, and he saw that underneath, she had on the same dress she’d been wearing last night. She actually started running down the block, her feet barely touching the ground. She quickly disappeared around a corner. He’d never seen her so happy.
Xander groaned inwardly.
“Could it get any worse?” he thought.
He slumped down onto his heels and stared at the cracked, dirty cement. It was intolerable. How could she? How could she betray them all like this?
And then his day got considerably darker when he spotted Anya walking slowly up the street carrying a large grocery bag.
Anya paused outside the gate to 53 Orion. Xander heard her call out something and the old blue demon he’d seen the other night with Spike, appeared at the door and walked down the steps of the house and out to the gate. Anya and demon had an animated conversation and finally, the demon held out his hand and led Anya through the gate and up into the house.
Xander couldn’t breathe. He’d never felt such black despair or bitter rage. He waited until the door was shut and then slunk back to his truck. He sat for a moment trying to catch his breath, his mind racing. He started the engine and spun out onto the street. Though he sped all the way back home, the drive seemed to last for an eternity. He began to formulate a plan. A plan that would free him at last.
He finally found what he was looking for in an old tool box at the back of his garage. Buffy had taken it from Warren’s house -a universal key-very handy tool for burglars. He didn’t know how long Anya would be gone so he had to move fast.
He pulled up to the back door of the Magic Box and used the key to let himself in. The first thing he saw was the table. That table. The one where Anya had let Spike do those things…those…
“He’s dust. Dust!”
He climbed the ladder up to the loft where Anya used to keep the supplies for those of her customers who preferred the darker aspects of magic. The shelves were almost bare. He guessed since Willow’s fall, Anya decided to get out of that side of the business. He was a little surprised at that. Anya loved money. She’d sell anything.
“That cheating bitch.” He felt a wave of jealousy sweep over him.
On a dusty shelf, he found an old wooden box with small runes burnt into the surface. It looked promising. He opened the box and found an evil looking stake carved into the shape of a scorpion. The tail of the scorpion was elongated and very sharp. Lying next to the scorpion stake was a small book made of parchment. He picked up the book. He couldn’t read the writing but there was a crude engraving of a vampire with a priest plunging a stake into its heart.
“Must be powerful magic for Anya to keep it up here,” he thought.
He put the book back into the box, and picked up the stake. The stake felt oddly warm; it felt as if it were burning through his skin. He hid it in his jacket and rubbed his hands. For a moment, he wondered just what the hell he was doing. Then he glanced down at the main floor, straight at the table. He knew. He’d always known that someday it would come to this between him and Spike. As he turned to go, he noticed with surprise that Anya had set up a small bed and sleeping area in the far corner of the loft. It looked a little pathetic.
“What’s that all about?”
He quickly climbed down the stairs and exited out the back door. He forgot about Anya and her little nest, and Buffy and her new found happiness. All he could think about was Spike. Spike screaming in agony with the scorpion stake stuck deep into his heart.
* * * * *
Buffy carefully hung Spike’s coat in the back of her closet. She stroked the soft cloth and thought joyfully of the night she’d spent with him. She felt so alive again. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt this much happiness. It didn’t matter what had come between them. They’d forgiven each other, they loved each other. She didn’t care anymore what anyone else thought. She’d been brave and strong for everyone. Resigned herself to loneliness these past months. But something was different now. He was different and so was she. She gave herself up to the pure joy of just loving him. It was such a terrible, wonderful, deep relief.
“And tonight,” she thought, “Tonight we’ll be together again. He’ll touch me again.”
She shivered in anticipation. Spike had made her promise to meet him at the Bronze at midnight. He had something very important to tell her. She’d tried to get it out of him, but he was adamant. It was something very special, and she must wear the most beautiful, sexy dress she had. And no underwear. He was quite explicit about that. The conversation had ended quickly when he slipped his hand down between her legs and began to nuzzle her neck.
She could wait, she thought, aroused by the memory of his soft, cool hands. “Waited all these months, I can wait a few more hours.” She lay down on her bed and began to plan her wardrobe. Soon she was fast asleep.
* * * * *
Anya, Rigel and Spike sat at the kitchen table and examined the contents of the bag which Anya had delivered. Rigel spread out the books across the table.
“‘Making Peace with Your New Soul’, ‘Are Humans Really Demons?’, ‘A Vampire’s Guide to Mixed Drinks and Sex,’” Rigel laughed. “Well I understand why you got the first one. Always curious about what we don’t understand, eh? And I don’t have to read the second one. I can tell you the answer in one word - YES. But not sure I get this third one.”
He held the book in question up in the air. On the cover was a nubile and naked blonde holding a martini glass filled with blood.
Spike grabbed the book from Rigel and blushed.
“It’s a best seller,” Anya smiled. “So Spike, why so happy this morning? You look much different than the last time I saw you.”
“He’s in love,” Rigel beamed.
“Shut your trap!” Spike snapped, “She doesn’t need…”
“Need what?” Anya interrupted. “Do you have a new girlfriend, Spike? Hope she’s a demon this time. I’ve sworn off humans myself. They’re so repressed and boring and always in a hurry.”
She looked sadly down at her hands.
“Guess that’s what happens to you when you only have a few years to live. All in a rush to understand your life and then it’s over. And you never enjoy what you have in the moment. I hate them…all of them.”
“It’s Buffy.” Spike said in a low voice.
“Oh…ah…well, I meant all of them, except Buffy. She was nice to me sometimes. She never said anything to me about…”
“Thanks, Anya.” Spike stood up quickly. “Thanks for the books…and this.”
He held up a small silver box which had also been in the bag.
“But I don’t think I’ll be needing it now.” He handed it back to her.
“Right. Nothing to forget now.”
She kept her hands down at her sides.
“Keep it. I don’t want it. You never know…someday…you might regret giving it back to me.”
She said goodbye to Rigel, and Spike walked her to the door.
“Did you tell her?” she asked. “About the soul and everything? Is that why you’re back together?”
“No yet. I’m telling her tonight. Want to make it special. I kind of lied to her.”
“Lied? About what?”
“Told her I had the chip out. She thinks I’ve changed because I want to be good for her. Doing it on my own.”
“Be careful Spike. Sounds like you got yourself a little tangled up.”
“You know, I can’t see what difference this bloody soul makes. She doesn’t know I have it and she loves me anyway. Loves me. Spike. Her undead, evil vampire.”
“Well you’re lucky. She forgave you. I wish… I wish that Xander would forgive me.”
“I wish he’d forgive you too, sweetheart, no matter how painful it’d be for him. You deserve love.”
Anya gave Spike a strange look. “Yeah…you’re right. I do deserve love.”
* * * * *
November 21st Just before midnight
Around eleven o’clock that night, Spike realized he’d forgotten to get flowers.
“No florists opened at this time of night,” he thought, and then he remembered seeing some wildflowers growing down by the open space along the railroad tracks.
He told Rigel that he’d be right back and called to Maisa.
“Come on little love. Want to go for a run?” He snapped on her leash and they went out.
He and Maisa strolled beside the tracks. The open ground was covered with winter lilies that were just blooming after the start of the winter rains. He gathered about two dozen lilies and started to walk back to his house. He held the bunch of flowers in his left arm and wrapped Maisa’s leash around his right hand. She was very excited tonight. At one point she stopped and wouldn’t move. She raised her head towards the sky and started to howl.
“What’s wrong?”
Spike looked up at the sky and Maisa immediately stopped howling.
“Wanted to show me the stars?”
The stars were thick and bright. The Milky Way was particularly vivid and beautiful. He remembered his first night with a soul. Laying there on the ground, as he gazed at the Milk Way, not knowing what it would all mean to him some day and if it would be worth the pain he’d suffered. He’d take her outside tonight and show her the stars and tell her just want she meant to him. He continued to stand there, lost in thought.
* * * * *
Xander jumped out from behind a car and without warning plunged the scorpion stake deep into Spike’s heart. Spike fell to the ground screaming in agony. Xander stood over him, suddenly deflated and almost afraid at what he’d done. Because Spike didn’t dissolve into a pile of dust. He just rolled on the ground screaming in pain. The little white dog ran around Spike barking anxiously. He lunged at Xander and bit down viciously on his leg. Xander didn’t feel a thing.
“No dust…no dust.” He mumbled to himself and started to shuffle off. Then he heard Spike give a heart rending cry which he’d remember for the rest of his life.
“My eyes…oh my god! My eyes!”
* * * * *
Anya looked nervously out the window of the Magic Shop. Someone had broken into the shop earlier that day while she’d been at Spike’s, and she was desperately afraid now that they’d returned. She saw the large shadow of a man pacing slowly back and forth in front of the store. As he walked under the streetlight, she saw, with a shock, that it was Xander. His right leg was covered with blood. She opened the door and rushed over to him. He seemed to be in a daze. He kept muttering something about dust. She took his arm and led him back into the shop and sat him down in a chair. He gazed up at her. His eyes were dull and dead looking.
“Xander! What happened? Who did this to you?”
She stood next to him and put her hand on his shoulder.
He shook his head and his eyes filled with tears.
“So tired…tired,” he whispered, “Anya…help me.”
He buried his head against her and began to sob.
* * * * *
Rigel heard Maisa barking and scratching furiously on the front door. As soon as he opened it Maisa dashed back down the stairs. He noticed the end of her leash was chewed off; it dragged uselessly behind her.
“Where’s Spike, Maisa? Something happened to Spike?” He picked up the long walking stick which he kept next to the front door and followed Maisa out into the night.
He found Spike sitting next to the railroad tracks. His head was in his hands and he was absolutely silent.
“Spike! What happened?” Rigel stood before the unresponsive vampire.
Spike waved his hand at Rigel as if to shoo him away.
“Get away old man. You can’t help. Nobody can help me.”
With surprising strength, Rigel grabbed Spike by the arm and pulled him to his feet. He noticed the blood seeping out over Spike’s torn shirt.
“Get up! Get up! Do you want whoever did this to you to win?”
“Don’t care,” Spike pulled his arm out of Rigel’s grasp and stumbled over Maisa, who gave a little whine.
“Watch out!” Rigel cried, “Didn’t you see her?”
“No, you stupid git! I’m bloody blind!”
----------------------------------
Chapter 8 - Artemis in Love
----------------------------------
She was just fine until about twenty three minutes past eleven. She knew the exact time because she’d checked the clock just after she was overcome with an odd feeling of dread. She’d learned to pay attention to small details-feelings, times, colors, scents and other somewhat insignificant details which might make the difference between life and death. Those little fragments of knowledge, kept her on this side of the dead zone.
She wasn’t sure if the feeling had anything to do with Spike. Hard to say because he was all she’d been thinking about all day long. As a matter of fact she was just mulling over something he’d said to her when the feeling struck her. Something he’d said about alarm clocks. She went over to her bedroom window and opened it. Leaning out into the cold night air, she remembered the moment. It was just after they’d been woken up by Maisa’s furious scratching at the door.
“Now I can save me a spot of cash,” he’d laughed, “No need for an alarm clock now you’re here. You and that little dog. Both of you keeping me safe.”
“Keeping him safe…” A pensive look crossed her face.
She closed the window, turned back to her room and walked over to the closet. She moved her clothes aside and gazed at the two coats hanging side by side in the back of the closet-the black leather duster and the elegant gray wool overcoat.
She stood there for a few moments and then took the gray coat off its hanger. She closed the closet door and put on the coat.
She left a note for Dawn on the kitchen table. Dawn had gone out to the movies with one of her girl friends and was going to spend the night at her house. Buffy wasn’t sure just when she’d be back and she didn’t want Dawn to worry. She hadn’t told Dawn about Spike. She’d wanted to savor her feelings and the time she’d spent with him for a while longer, before the storm of accusations from her friends and family descended upon her-accusations and questions which she knew she would eventually have to face.
“It’s my life. My life.”
She slipped out the front door and headed toward the Bronze.
* * * * *
Rigel and Maisa finally got Spike home. He’d lost a great quantity of blood, and though he was unable to see, he kept insisting that he had to get to the Bronze to meet Buffy. Rigel was eventually able to subdue him by telling him that he looked a complete fright, covered in blood and so filthy and that no decent young lady would even want to be seen with him. He promised Spike that he’d try to find someway to let Buffy know what had happened. It was his last comment that made Spike suddenly calm down.
“She can’t know. What’s she gonna do with a blind vampire? Oh, god.”
He stood quietly as Rigel helped him out of his clothes and helped him clean up. Spike could barely stand at that point.
“You better lie down for a bit. I’ll bring you something that might help.”
As Rigel was coming in from the backyard, he noticed Maisa standing guard over a strange object on the floor. She was growling.
“What’s that you have there, little one?”
He bent over and picked up the scorpion stake.
* * * * *
Spike crawled into bed and buried his face in the pillow. Her scent still lingered on the pillowcase and on the blankets. He felt a momentary comfort, as if her arms were around him and his was engulfed by her warmth and tenderness. Then the reality of his situation returned and he rolled over on his back and stared unseeing at the ceiling.
“She’ll never forgive me this. Never.”
He imagined her sitting in the Bronze waiting for him. The hours passing and him never showing up. She’d never forgive him, that is, unless she knew what happened to him. And he couldn’t tell her because he knew her. Knew she’d get all maternal and want to help him and he couldn’t bear it.
“Not the way I wanted things to be, love.”
* * * * *
Rigel handed Spike the tall glass of water. He set a small silver box and the scorpion stake down on the bedside table.
“Drink this, Spike,” he ordered, “Not sure if it will help your eyes, but at least it will ease the pain.”
Spike took a small sip and then spit it out.
“Bloody hell, this is water!”
“Drink it you stubborn fool! You don’t know what you’re risking!” Rigel glanced down at the stake.
“Yeah…yeah. Things couldn’t get worse…nothing to lose now. Bloody chip. I could’ve killed the wanker…instead of…this…” Spike sighed.
He drank the whole glass down in a gulp. He felt a tingling sensation move down his throat and into his chest and then radiate up through his neck and head. The pain in his eyes disappeared, but he felt tiny flashes of cold fire explode inside his head.
“From the spring?” he said in a listless voice.
“Yes. But don’t worry. I promise. It’s for your own good.”
“Why wasn’t I dusted?
“This stake isn’t made of wood.” Rigel picked up the stake off the table and examined it again. “It has a small opening in the point.”
My head is filled with stars…” Spike lay back down on the bed. “Sound like bloody Dru…am I going crazy…?
“No…no. You’re not crazy…but I’m worried. Have you ever seen a stake shaped like a scorpion?”
“Never…never. Must think…what to do. Oh…Buffy…what’ll happen to you? What have I done?” Spike groaned. He tried to sit up and then fell back onto the bed.
“Get the box. Give her the box. Let her be the one to forget. My gift…Get some paper man, before I pass out. Need you to write a letter.”
* * * * *
Rigel sealed up the letter, wrapped it around the silver box and tied it with a black string. He paused at the bedroom doorway.
“Are you sure? Something may change. Don’t rush things. Don’t rush. Something good may happen…something…”
“Nothing good ever happens to me, mate. Promise me. You’ll find her tonight. Give it to her! Promise!”
Spike morphed feebly into his demon face, but he couldn’t sustain it for more than a moment.
“I promise. Oh, dear, dear…” Rigel mumbled as he left the room.
* * * * *
November 22nd
Buffy glanced at her watch. It was already 1:30 a.m. Where was he? She’d been worried, but now her worry turned to anger. She began to doubt everything that had happened between them last night. Had it been just another game to him? Get her to forgive him. Make her confess her feelings and then humiliate her by standing her up? Could he really be that cruel?
She suddenly felt embarrassed to be sitting alone in the Bronze. She felt people staring at her as if she were some kind of pathetic loser or just another, lonely woman waiting to be picked up. She pulled the coat around her shoulders and stood up. She took the back exit out of the Bronze, following the same route she’d taken last night. Last night. It seemed light years ago when she’d run out into the night and finally found her way back to his arms.
“Never gonna happen again,” she thought sadly, “One beautiful day of ignorant bliss. One day of joy. Don’t think I can live with the memory of it.”
The cold November air swirled up under her coat and dress. She felt a rush of shame as the cold air caressed and chilled her naked body beneath the skimpy dress. What had she been thinking? She walked slowly home, falling deeper into a black depression with each step.
The first thing she saw, when she climbed the stairs to her front porch, was a small silver package. Her heart gave a quick lurch, and she stooped down to pick it up. She looked cautiously around the front yard and down the street. No sign of him anywhere. She went inside and threw the package down on the couch. She sat down beside it. She was afraid to open it. Finally, overcome with a mixture of curiosity and dread she opened it up.
Inside the package was an envelope tied to a small silver box. For a brief moment she surrendered to joy. A gift. Something precious from him.
“An explanation for his appalling behavior,” she thought ruefully, “Why didn’t he give it to me himself? Never forgive him. Never.”
She looked at the envelope. It wasn’t his handwriting. She opened the envelope and began to read the letter.
* * * * *
The main body of the letter read:
Slayer,
Well now we’re even. For all those years you tormented me. But I got you to say those three little words, didn’t I? But I’m kinder than you. I send you this little present. Use it if you want. They say that forgiveness is the greatest gift. But I think forgetting is just as good, probably much better in this case. Hope you weren’t too cold tonight.
Affectionately,
Your evil, undead Vampire,
Spike
* * * * *
She recognized Spike’s scrawling, printed signature. The rest of the letter was written in a beautiful cursive script. It appeared to have been written by someone else. Rigel, perhaps, she thought.
Underneath the signature someone had hurriedly written the words, ‘Don’t do it!’
She put the letter down and opened up the silver box. There was a small black bag of sweet smelling herbs and a little printed label which read, ‘Nepenthe’s Special Spell for Forgetting. Extra Strong.’ On the back of the label were instructions for how to use the herbs and invoke the spell.
She threw everything back down on the couch, stood up and ripped off Spike’s coat and threw that down, also. She was far, far beyond anger at this point. She was sliding deep into murderous revenge.
She ran upstairs, quickly changed her clothes, and rummaged in her drawer for a stake. She started to leave the room, but had a quick thought and went over to her closet and pulled out his black leather duster and put it on. She went back downstairs, took the silver box and his letter off of the couch, put them in the pocket of the duster and then slammed out of the house.
She strode angrily through the night.
“Gonna do what I should’ve done years ago. Dust his sorry ass.”
* * * * *
2:30 a.m.
Rigel rushed downstairs at the sound of the heavy pounding on the front door. He opened the door slowly, only to be pushed aside by the extremely agitated Buffy.
“Where the hell is he?” She yelled.
“He…he’s sleeping…he can’t see you…er…now…”
“Not my problem. Get out of my way!” Buffy shoved Rigel against the wall. “Are you in this too?”
“In what? Oh, please. He can’t see you. He can’t see…” Rigel stammered.
Barking and growling, Masia dashed down the stairs and flung herself at Buffy.
“What? You too? And I saved you, you miserable…” she cried.
She tried to shake off the little dog, who had a corner of Spike’s duster in her teeth and refused to let go. She moved up the stairs, with the dog still latched onto the coat and Rigel scurrying behind her. She slammed open the door to Spike’s bedroom and paused for a moment, halted by the stillness of his sleeping form. He was on his back; his eyes were closed. He hadn’t even flinched in all the commotion. She threw the silver box at him, striking him in his chest.
“Wake up you filthy, lying, evil thing. I want to see the look in your eyes. Spike! Look at me! Want to see the look in your eyes just before I end your miserable existence!
He didn’t move. She stood over him and raised the stake over his chest.
“Look at me!”
Spike turned his head away from her and slowly opened his eyes
“Look at me!” Buffy cried.
Rigel grabbed Buffy’s arm and tried to pull her away from the bed.
“He can’t. He can’t. He can’t see you!”
“Shut up! You bloody fool!” Spike cried and turned his face toward them, “Shut up and get her the hell out of here! No….on second thought. Let her do it. Yeah, bitch…do the thing…you know you want to. Just bloody well do it!
Buffy dropped the stake from her hand in shock. “Your eyes…your…”
“Rigel, get this bint out of my room. Get out!”
Rigel pulled gently on Buffy’s arm, “Come on, come on…let’s leave him alone… please? It’ll only get worse.”
Buffy stumbled out of the room guided by Rigel. Maisa positioned herself at the entrance to Spike’s bedroom and gave a low growl at Buffy’s retreating back.
They heard Spike laughing hysterically and then he was suddenly quite.
Rigel led Buffy into the kitchen and made her sit down at the table.
“Here, drink this.” He handed her a glass of water.
“Hope it’s gin,” she muttered and drank it down. She fixed Rigel with a despairing gaze and asked, “What happened?”
* * * * *
Buffy and Rigel sat in the backyard next to the spring. Rigel had told her everything that had occurred that night.
“I don’t understand why he wouldn’t want me know. I thought he loved me.”
“He does love you. Don’t you understand?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand him.”
She picked up the scorpion stake that Rigel had given her and tapped it absently against the ground before her.
“You know I think I’ve seen this somewhere before.”
She thought for a moment, and then exclaimed, “The Magic Box!”
She turned to Rigel. “Why didn’t he fight back? Defend himself? With his chip gone and all. He didn’t have to let this happen to him.”
“Chip gone? But he still has the chip…I’m thinking perhaps it was his soul that made him hesitate.”
“His soul?” Buffy said in a shocked voice. She shivered.
“Let’s go inside,” Rigel stood up and, taking Buffy’s hand, led her back into the house.
“Why in the world would he lie to me about that?”
* * * * *
Buffy laid the book down and yawned. She and Rigel had been sitting for several hours at the kitchen table. They’d been discussing what to do next. Buffy had been casually browsing through the books that Anya had left for Spike.
“Do you think that humans are really demons?” she asked.
Rigel smiled, “Not really. But sometimes I think they can be worse than demons. You know, the things I’ve seen during my time on this earth…the pain I’ve seen them inflict, the havoc and insanity, you just wouldn’t believe.”
“Oh…I believe it.” She stood up, “What about me, Rigel? Do you think I’m bad?”
“I think you’re very young. Very young to have to do what you must do. And,” he paused, looking at her with apprehension, “You’re very quick to judge. Perhaps a little more kindness...” He stopped, silenced by the look of sadness in her eyes.
“I’m going up to him. Don’t bother us, no matter what you hear. OK?”
She climbed the stairs and was immediately confronted by Maisa, who blocked her entrance to the room. She bent down and gave her a little pat.
“I won’t hurt him. I promise,” she said to the little dog. “He needs me. Whether he wants to admit it or not.”
* * * * *
She slipped quietly into his room. He was fast asleep. She took off the leather duster, dropped it to the floor; and then she climbed onto the bed and snuggled up beside him. She put her arm under his head and tried to pull him closer. He shifted restlessly in his sleep and rolled over on his side so that he was facing her. He rubbed his mouth against the soft fabric of her sweater and threw his arm around her possessively, settling his body into her soft curves. She looked down at his face, nestled against her breast. His cheeks were streaked with tears, but his lips were curved in a faint smile. She ran her fingers gently through his hair and placed them lightly on the cool skin on the back of his neck. She hugged his head against her. In that moment, she let herself feel what she had almost lost in her blind desire for revenge.
“Spike,” she whispered, “I love you.”
“Yeah…I know…” he said in a low voice and then drifted back to sleep.
------------------------------
Chapter 9 - Orion Rising
------------------------------
November 22 Early Morning
Anya sat in the dark. The silence in the Magic Box was occasionally broken by strange moans and whimpers from Xander, who was sleeping in the makeshift bed above her in the loft. She had absolutely no idea what to do. If she’d wanted to see him brought low, miserable and torn apart inside and out, she could get no better than seeing him in the state in which he’d arrived outside her door last night. But right now, she was conflicted, because the reality was much more terrible than the fantasy. His suffering was extreme. She could tell that something inside him had broken. Had broken badly. She couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. He had been completely incoherent last night and all she could do for him was try to get him to sleep. What had he experienced that brought him this low? In some odd way, his eyes reminded her of Willow’s when she had gone insane with grief and revenge. Revenge. She gazed down at the table in panic. What had Spike said to her yesterday? She desperately tried to recall the exact phrasing of his words.
“Oh my god,” she thought in horror. “He said ‘I wish’. He said ‘I wish Xander would forgive you…no matter how painful it would be for him.’ What have I done? What have I set in motion?”
She climbed the ladder up to the loft and knelt quietly by the bed. Xander’s right hand was flung over the side of the bed, palm up. In the pale light cast by the streetlight outside, she could see that his palm was red and swollen and blistered, as if he’d grasped a burning rod of iron.
She shook his shoulders gently.
“Xander. Wake up. Wake up.” He didn’t wake.
She shook him harder.
“Xander!”
He opened his eyes. His eyes were still a little glazed, but she could see that he was more coherent and recognized her.
“Anya,” he whispered.
“Xander. Get up now. We have to talk.”
Xander sat up on the side of the bed. He gave her a quick sideways look and then turned away.
“Xander. This is important. You have to tell me. Tell me exactly what you did last night.”
* * * * *
Buffy floated in a peaceful state between sleeping and waking. She was a little cold. She reached over to pull up her quilt when her hand encountered cool skin. She opened her eyes. Not her bedroom. No quilt in sight. Only a lovely, pale vampire, stretched beside her with his head snuggled up against her shoulder and his arm draped over her stomach. Her shoulder was numb.
“Spike. Wake up!” She tried to move his arm, but he gave a small growl of protest.
“Going somewhere?” He pulled her closer.
He slipped his hand under her sweater and moved it slowly up her stomach until it cupped the soft curve of her breast. He traced the tip of her nipple with one of his fingers, until it became erect. He pushed her sweater up to expose her bare skin. He lowered his lips to her breast and kissed it softly.
“You are my love,” he whispered.
With a little cry, she turned onto her back and wiggled out of the sweater. Then she turned back to him offering him her breasts. He freed his other arm from beneath her, and grasped both her breasts in his hands and began to feast upon them…tracing his cool tongue along the curves, tasting each nipple, sucking gently, pausing to rub his cheek against her yielding warmth.
He raised his head, and blindly sought for her lips. She moved to accommodate him, her heart breaking at his struggle to find her. He slid up the bed, and she helped him place his arms on either side of her head, capturing her so she couldn’t move. So he could find her. His kiss was tender and chaste, as if he were discovering her lips for the first time. She opened her lips slightly and teased him with her tongue, but he refused to play. He wanted something different. Something slow, and sweet and full of tenderness.
And that is what he gave her, until she forgot everything. The cold, the hurt, the anger and shame, the fear, the terrible fear for him, all washed away, all melted beneath the bliss of his lips upon hers and, of course, his touch.
“His touch. Never going to live without it again. Never.”
* * * * *
Xander got up and stumbled over to the bookcase where he’d found the scorpion stake yesterday. He rubbed his injured hand nervously against the rough wood of the shelf. The pain in his hand was excruciating. But he deserved it. Deserved pain. Needed to face the pain.
“It’s killing me,” he moaned.
Anya went over to him, put her hand on his wrist, and pulled his hand away from the rough wood.
“Stop it! I can feel it, Xander. It’s not the pain in your hand that’s killing you. It’s what’s in your heart.”
She pulled him roughly around to face her. “Look at me. Tell me what you did.”
“I killed him!” Xander cried. “I killed him and I don’t care…I can’t care…”
“Who? Who did you kill?”
Xander wrenched his arm out of Anya’s grasp and turned his back to her.
“None of your goddamned business!” he shouted.
She put her hands on his shoulders and spun him around to face her. Her face was livid with anger.
“What’s your problem? Why are you so small and dark inside? Who murdered your soul?”
Xander’s face turned white. Anya was back in her true demon form. He turned his head to the side.
“All of you! All of you! You destroyed me the moment you let that disgusting thing touch you. You and Buffy. It makes me sick. He destroyed my life. My friends. My love. You. Look at you! He deserved to die. No telling what horrible things he’d have done with his chip out.”
“Chip out?” Anya asked slowly. “What are you talking about?”
“Yeah. Now you’re listening to me. No one ever listened to me. I knew that’s all he wanted to do. All he ever wanted to do. Get his chip out. Come back here and murder us all. But you women…” He spit out the last word.
“Are you insane?”
Anya took a few steps back. She gave Xander a long questioning look and then she touched his face with her hand.
“Of course. You don’t know, do you? Stupid Spike. I knew it. I told him he shouldn’t lie about it.”
She dropped her hand to her side.
“Know what? What’s there to know? I did what I had… to do…” Xander’s voice faltered.
“Vengeance. Vengeance is so bitter and so very, very blind. Eats you up inside, doesn’t it? You thought you’d feel better, right? But you’re just dying inside…dying. I should know.”
She turned away and began to climb down the ladder of the loft. “So many lies,” she muttered to herself.
Xander stood at the edge of loft watching her descend.
“What lies? What are you talking about?!” he cried.
She paused at the bottom of the ladder and looked up at him sadly.
“Spike still had the chip, Xander. He couldn’t hurt you. And besides, even if he didn’t have the chip, I doubt he would’ve hurt anyone. That’s not why he came back. He came back to give Buffy what he though she deserved. Someone with a soul.”
Xander stood in shock. He grabbed onto the railing before him and fell to his knees.
“A soul? Oh god. You’re lying.”
“Xander. I don’t know exactly what you did. But if you don’t grow up and face what you’ve done like a man, you might as well just lie down and die. It’s your choice now.”
She turned her back to him and walked away.
“Buffy… What have I done?” he cried and sunk to the floor.
* * * * *
Anya paced around the Magic Shop unsure as to what to do. Should she try to find Buffy? Give her the news? Tell Rigel? She had a distinct feeling that Xander was not going to hurt anyone anymore. But she wasn’t sure if he might not hurt himself. She wanted to blame him…for his selfishness, his bitterness. But she found that she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. After all, hadn’t vengeance been her life all these years? She knew exactly how he must have felt in his moment of murderous rage. Hadn’t she incited others to the same peaks of passionate insanity? It just stunk. All of it. And she knew from that minute forward that she was out of the vengeance business completely. But right now, she didn’t know what to do. The man above her in the loft was destroyed. Well, almost. She wasn’t quite sure if he’d ever make it back. Well maybe he didn’t need to go back. Maybe he needed to go to some place quite different. Whatever the case, he’d be forever changed by his actions. Everything from here on out was his choice. Live or die. Seek some kind of forgiveness for his act. She was pretty sure that Buffy, at least, would probably never forgive him for what he’d done to her lover. And Spike…
She paused at the front door and called back into the shop, “Xander, I’m going out. Someone has to tell…Buffy.” He didn’t respond and she opened the door and walked out onto the sidewalk, and into the rosy light of dawn.
* * * * *
Spike had fallen back into a restless sleep. Buffy sat up and pulled the covers back over them. She shivered in the early morning chill. Spike suddenly flung out his arms out and yelled. She put her hand on his chest and shook him.
“Spike, wake up. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare. It’s OK. I’m here. I’m here.”
He opened his eyes and then quickly closed them again.
“Not a nightmare…it’s real…it’s real…everything is dark,” he moaned.
“Spike, you have to tell me what happened. Who did this to you?”
Spike curled up on his side, turning his back to her. He realized that he couldn’t tell her. Tell her what he knew. What the friend she’d loved and trusted all these years had done. Why couldn’t he tell her? What was keeping him from blurting out the truth? The boy had always hated him. Always. Hadn’t he, himself, wanted to do something just as bad to the stupid wanker a thousand times over these past years?
“Bad bleeding luck,” he thought. “I can’t make her choose. It’d destroy her.”
But this could be his moment of bitter glory, right? Separate her from her friends forever. So she’d be only his. His alone. But he just couldn’t say the words. And why the hell was he worrying about her reaction anyway? Wasn’t he the injured party here? Wasn’t he the one who was blind? But, oh god, how he loved her. Loved her. Would never hurt her again. Let her find out the truth from someone else. Let someone else destroy her world. Until then, it was a secret that he’d have to bear alone.
“Don’t know, love. It all happened so fast. I must have passed out.”
He turned back to face her and slid his arm around her.
“You’re all cold. Please. I don’t want to talk about it now. Let me make you warm.”
* * * * *
Rigel opened the front door and Anya rushed inside.
“Oh Rigel…it’s bad. Very bad news…it’s Spike.”
“Calm down and come in, now. Come into the kitchen. Calm down. Do you know something?”
Maisa stood in the kitchen doorway and growled at Anya. Anya bent down to pat the little dog. Masia gave Anya’s hand a quick sniff and started barking.
“What’s wrong Maisa?” Rigel asked. “Stop being rude. Anya is our guest. Go sit. Be quiet.”
Maisa ran over to the foot of the stairway and sat down on the first step. She assumed her guard dog position.
“Very strange,” Rigel commented. “Must be something you touched.”
Anya looked at her hand and knew exactly what Maisa was growling about.
“Was she there? Was she there when Spike got staked? I can’t believe he’s gone. He was my friend you know. Was kind to me when everyone hated me. I just can’t believe he’s gone.”
She flung herself down onto one of the kitchen chairs.
“Spike gone?” Rigel asked.
“Yes…Xander told me everything.”
“Oh, Anya. Spike’s not gone. But you’re right. Something terrible, indeed, has happened to him. He’s blind.”
“Not gone? Not dust? Blind? But Xander told me he killed him…dusted him I thought.”
Rigel picked up the scorpion stake from the table and held it up for Anya to see.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Oh my god. It’s from the Magic Box. It was there last week…someone broke in yesterday…must have been Xander…Xander stole it.”
She took the stake out of Rigel’s hand.
“I was going to destroy it. It’s very black magic. It’s specially made for vengeance demons. It has a small reservoir in the tip. If you use it against a human, they will become a demon. If you use it on a demon, they will become human. But if you use it on a vampire, first they become blind and then they slowly disintegrate…may take a week or so after they’re struck. It’s not wood; it’s obsidian. There’s nothing you can do to counter it’s effect. Nothing. Well, nothing that I know of.”
“I think you should leave, Anya. I’ll tell Spike you were here. Perhaps you could do a little research to see if there’s any cure. There must be something.”
Maisa, still growling, followed Anya to the door.
* * * * *
Buffy pulled herself out of Spike’s arms.
“I need to go home and get some things and tell Dawn what’s going on. But I’ll be back later. Understand? You get some rest. And then we’ll figure out how to get your sight back. And after that, you and I need to have a long talk about you know what.”
He groaned.
He reluctantly let go of her hand and burrowed back under the covers.
“Don’t rush. You don’t have to change your life around for me. Rigel and I will be just fine. Hear me? I meant it. I have to learn how to deal with this myself, you know. Don’t want you hanging over me pet, got that?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Buffy gave him a kiss and whispered in his ear, “Don’t you know that hanging over you is one of my favorite pastimes?”
“Go …and tell Rigel to come up, would you?”
* * * * *
Rigel was in the kitchen. He held a large, glass pitcher of water and was staring at it intensely. He jumped when Buffy came into the kitchen to say goodbye. Buffy told Rigel she’d be back in a few hours.
He took the pitcher upstairs and knocked on Spike’s door.
He came into the room and placed the pitcher of water on the table beside the bed.
“You must drink all of this. No complaining,” he said in a very serious voice.
He told Spike what Anya had said about the stake. And about Xander.
“Yes, I knew it was him,” Spike said softly.
“Did you tell her?”
“No. Not exactly sure why not. Don’t want to hurt her. This is a bloody mess. I’m really not much use to anyone, am I? When she comes back, tell her…tell her I’ve gone away for a bit…to think things through…tell her…”
“I’m not lying for you. Tell her yourself. Tell her what you feel. Are you scared?”
“Grrr…Me scared? Never been, never…” he paused, “Been…scared. Scared…I’ll never hold her in my arms again.
“Then why do you lie to her?”
“Guess I still think that she’ll disappear again one day. Don’t want to be hurt. And besides, can’t a vampire have a few secrets to himself?”
“Agghh…” he grasped his head. “The pain, oh god…”
“Come on, drink. Drink it all. This is living water. It’ll purify your body, cleanse it of the poison from the stake. I know it’s helping, because otherwise you’d be gone by now according to Anya. So drink it all.”
“No way that I’m gonna be able to drink all that, mate. Can’t you put a little shot of whiskey in it?”
“No whiskey. You need to be conscious. Understand?”
Spike proceeded to slowly drink down all the water.
“Please. I need some blood, feeling very faint here,” he said, placing the pitcher back down on the table.
Rigel put a leash on Maisa and locked the front door. He spoke to the little dog as he opened the gate and started walking down the street. “Blood…from Willie’s…and some groceries. Let’s see…roast beef and potatoes…a little cake.”
They crossed the street and Rigel paused to look up at the sky.
“Looks like there’s a storm coming…very good, very good indeed. There’ll be so many guests tonight,” he hummed happily to himself.
* * * *
{Next}