Chapter 17

He’d been punched in the gut once. By a bully at school, and had never forgotten it. The feeling of stunned helplessness. Gasping for air as his knees buckled. Looking up at the smirking boy, only one word in his mind. Why?

Spike hit a wall of disbelief as he charged into the room. He’d been expecting to find Angelus. Perhaps Buffy beside him, looking scared but defiant. His fists were already balled for the first blow, mind focussed on only one thing. Beat his grand-sire senseless, grab Buffy and get the hell out of there.

No time for posturing. No time for the luxury of a fight to the death. All he had to do was pound Angelus into submission, have it witnessed and he was free. Take Buffy and get as far away as possible, then never let her go again. A simple plan and one which he’d had every confidence of executing. After all, didn’t they have the most to fight for? Didn’t they have an edge that meant they couldn’t possibly lose? Didn’t love conquer all?

Not if someone was already dead. Even love couldn’t bring someone back from the grave.

Although he no longer needed to breathe, the blow of seeing her like that still floored him. He should have known she was still alive, should have been able to sense her weak pulse and the slow flow of her blood. But all he saw was a pale corpse laid out in blood-stained clothes. And for the first time since he’d become a vampire the sight of the crimson stains creeping across snow white cloth made him feel sick.

His demon roared so loudly that Spike put his hands over his ears to block it. The sound echoed around the room, drowning out William’s despair with its ferocity as he knelt, where he’d fallen in front of Buffy’s body.

Still shaking from the shock of it he reached out with his vampire senses and a trembling hand to discover that she was still alive. Still breathing, her heart still beating. Still with him.

Relief hit him like a ton weight and all he could do was lay down his head and take it in. A journey to hell and back can sometimes take only a few seconds, but the speed at which you travel is almost too much to survive. He’d talked himself up for the fight, filled himself with enough hate and arrived ready to take on the devil himself, but all that energy had gone into this. The shock of seeing her, perhaps already a vampire, perhaps just plain dead, had used up all his reserves.

‘Stop the bleeding,’ his demon urged him. ‘Do something.’

Spike lifted his head and scanned the two wounds. They weren’t mortal, he could see that now his vision had cleared, but his demon was right, he should do something. Ripping a strip from her petticoat he bound up her arm then pressed his hand against the bite on her neck. They’d known exactly what to do to her to fill her nightmares and taint her dreams for years to come. If she lived through this, that was.

He tasted Angelus as he licked the wound clean for her. Tasted them both, and felt them. The room was empty, but they were near. Buffy stirred and a weak scream escaped her when she saw him. Her hands scrabbled against his face and he caught them and held her still.

“It’s me, Buffy. Spike. Come to get you. You knew I’d come, didn’t you?”

Still she fought him so he moved away from the bites and the horrendous memories that she was reliving and Buffy immediately covered the one on her neck with her own hand.

“Buffy, it’s me.”

She dropped her head to the side and gazed at him wide-eyed, her fingers still clawing at the wound on her neck.

“Buffy, it’s Spike.”

Her face crumpled as she recognised him. Holding out her arms she pulled him down and held him too tightly for one so weak, as if she was drawing her strength from him. Her arms shook with the ferocity of her grip and Spike held her back, just as hard, sensing that was what she needed.

“Got you love.”

“Thank God. I’m sorry Spike.”

“Not your fault pet. I should have been more careful. Where is he?”

Spike laid her back down on the couch and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Congealed blood had matted a clump of it and she was still terribly pale. They’d taken a lot of blood, he could see that and she’d be weak for days. Her guarded expression also told him that that wasn’t all they’d done. She was hanging on to his arm grimly, her eyes on his face as if she still hadn’t properly taken in the fact that he was here.

Now wasn’t the time to ask what had happened. Whatever they’d done they were going to pay, there was no question of that. Spike felt the rage building again as he took in the pathetic state of the woman he loved. Who’d been terrified half out of her mind by someone he used to call his mentor. Someone he once aspired to emulate.

Spike faltered as he realised that he’d been witness to this scenario many times, only never from this perspective. How many husbands and lovers had cried over the loss or violation of their lady loves, because of him? He’d taken life without question, never stopping to think of the bigger picture. They were victims and he killed them. Their families and loved ones never entered his mind.

Buffy’s gaze flicked upwards and Spike sensed Angelus behind him, even though the man hadn’t made a sound.

“So, now you know,” the older vampire said. “Hurts doesn’t it? And so exquisite to watch. That was some performance William. There’s something quite special about the pain of loss. Cuts sharper than any knife.

As he spoke Angelus circled him slowly, keeping his distance and Spike watched him, his hand still in Buffy’s. The rage was building up again, but there was something else. An uncomfortable feeling that he was no better than Angelus really. Killing was killing and whether you did it fast or slow made no difference. The victim was still dead. What right did he have to cry because this time he was the one feeling the loss? Didn’t he deserve a long, hard look at what he was?

“She’s mine,” he said quietly. Now wasn’t the time to debate such things, all he wanted was to get them the hell out of there. “I’ve come to take her back.”

“Well, you see,” Angelus said. “That gives us a bit of a problem, because she’s mine too now. And I think you’ll find a sire’s bite supersedes that of a childe’s.” He raised his eyebrows as if Spike should have known that, then he picked up a silver cigarette box from a side table, flicked it open and offered it to him.

“I don’t give a shit about your hierarchy. She’s mine. You knew she was mine.”

Angelus put down the box and took himself a cigarette. “You’ve really never got it, have you?” The rasp of the match as he struck it against the side of the box made Buffy jump and clutch at Spike’s hand. He flicked her a glance and knew he had to get her out fast. There was a chance that Angelus hadn’t had her yet, but he would before he killed her, or more likely, turned her.

“Start thinking like a vampire for a change. It’s not just about the killing, If that’s all you do then you’ve missed the point.” Angelus sucked on the cigarette until the end glowed, flicked the ash and continued. “When you’re a vampire, you can have anything you want. Just reach out and take it. Yet,” he took another long drag. “You own nothing. What’s yours is mine first, you know that. And what’s mine belongs to the Master. Where do you think Darla is right now?”

Spike listened and felt his resolve returning. Let Angelus talk, he was fond of the sound of his own voice. The longer he talked, the more Spike felt the energy that had been punched out of him returning. Muscles were hardening and it was no longer shock that made them tremble. Buffy’s eyes grew wider as she realised what was happening, but when she tried to move he shook his head just a fraction to warn her to be still.

Angelus saw it too. “That’s right. Get mad. Get as mad as you like, you still won’t beat me. Have you ever?”

Spike rose slowly, feeling Buffy’s loss as she tried to hold onto him, but knowing he had to do this. And knowing that failure wasn’t an option.

“There’s always a first time,” he said taking off the policeman’s tunic. “And this it going to be it. Call in some witnesses.”

“Good grief, lad. Do you think I’m about to fight you here and now?” Angelus gave a sharp laugh. “That’s not how it goes.”

Spike unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and methodically rolled back his sleeves, all the while moving himself towards Angelus, who didn’t look the slightest bit concerned.

“How does it go then? Enlighten me.” He stopped just short of his grand-sire who’d moved to prop himself theatrically against the mantelpiece. Behind him Buffy struggled to sit up and Angelus nodded at her appreciatively.

“Quite the beauty, isn’t she? Especially like that.”

“Fuck the rules.” Spike moved instinctively to block Buffy from Angelus’ view, wishing he didn’t have to do this in front of her. His confidence was evaporating rapidly in the face of Angelus’ large body and impassive stare. Angelus was right, he’d never beaten him before, nor come any where near it. But then, he’d never been this motivated. “Fight me fair and square. Here, now,” he said.

Angelus crushed his cigarette into an ashtray and stepped forward. “Think lad, what you’re doing. There’ll be no going back from this.”

Spike tensed as Angelus squared up to him. “Suits me.”

“I’m happy to share.”

“I’m not. Fight me you bastard, I demand to be released from the family bond.” Spike took a swing but Angelus dodged it easily.

“I’m going to finish what you started, William. You think you’ve corrupted her? You haven’t seen anything yet?”

Spike charged him, aiming for the smug smile on his grand-sire’s face. Aiming to wipe it off once and for all. Buffy cried out as he rushed forward and in the split second of distraction Angelus landed him a punch to the jaw which dropped him to the ground.

This time he tasted his own blood before lunging again at Angelus’ legs. The vampire side-stepped neatly and returned a hard kick to his stomach. Spike felt a rib crack as he doubled up and Buffy screamed again.

Angelus crouched before him, gathering up the loose folds of his shirt with a twist so that it tightened around his neck. Even though he didn’t breathe, Spike still felt the instinctive choking reflex as the material closed around his throat.

Buffy tried to stand and Spike called out to her to stay back, torn in his desire to finish this and go to her.

“She’ll always be your biggest weakness,” Angelus said as if he was stating the obvious. “You’ve got to learn to detach, boy. You can’t let her go and that’s admirable, but it’s also holding you back. The fear of losing and what will happen to her if you do, that’s what’s going to stop you from winning.”

Spike knocked away Angelus’ hand and scooted back on his heels. “Are you going to fight me, or bore me to death?” he said wincing at the pain in his side. That, he could deal with, it either hurt or it didn’t. The other thing, the fear of losing? That was more real. More frightening.

Angelus backed away, giving Spike time to stand. Spike spared Buffy a glance. She was half lying, very still as if she knew her being there was making him lose his focus. Her eyes were large, all hope pinned on him, willing him to finish this.

“Does she know it all?” Angelus stood, arms folded casually. Waiting for his next move. “Young girls, that was our William’s thing,” he said turning to Buffy. “Which version of life as a vampire did he give you? Not the real one I’ll wager, judging by the look on his face. Have you the slightest idea what he’s capable of?”

He’d hardly finished the sentence before Spike had him down again. Buffy thought she knew what he was, but she didn’t have a clue really. Only knew what he’d told her. Yes, she needed to hear it, but not from Angelus, not like this. As he pinned Angelus to the ground and pounded into him with his fists he knew he was venting anger at himself as well as his grand-sire. For the horrible truth that had been his life for the past ten years, as well as what Angelus had done to Buffy.

And, finally he was totally focussed. Angelus tried to move, but Spike kept up his relentless battering. “You did that to me,” he told him, each word punctuated with the crack of flesh on flesh, uncaring that his own knuckles were broken and bleeding from the blows. “Drusilla made me into a vampire, but you made me into a monster.”

Both their demons were free now. Spike felt Angelus fighting back. He twisted away and landed a kick to Spike’s injured side, momentarily stopping his assault, but Spike picked himself up and just kept going. His demon, who’d always bowed to Angelus’ was tasting sweet victory at last, and it had scores to settle.

They both looked to the door as Drusilla entered the room. Angelus saw her first and Spike turned just in time to see the heavy marble statue she’d picked up making an arc towards the side of his head. He couldn’t dodge the blow in time, nor the second one which knocked him to the ground in a shower of bright flashes and dizzying stars.

Somewhere in the fog that was engulfing him Buffy screamed again and he thought he heard Angelus laugh. Or it could have been Drusilla. As he rolled and tried to get up, she brought the statue down again and he heard the crunch as his skull cracked. Felt the splintered bones driving into his brain.

“Naughty boy,” she said as she raised it again. “Bad, bad boy. Look what you did to daddy. Mummy has to punish you now.”

The words came in and out as Spike tried to rise and fend off her assault. Blood streamed from the wound, filling his eyes and his sight with it. And the sweet taste of triumph turned sour as he choked on it and spat it out. Angelus caught the next blow in mid-flow, twisting the statue out of Drusilla’s hand as he grabbed her around the waist.

“Enough, Dru. Don’t want him too badly injured, yet.”

The voice of authority stopped her in her tracks. Dru let go of the statue and went limp in his arms. “Did I do right?” she asked in a little-girl voice. “Did I help my daddy?”

Somehow Buffy had got herself across the room and her horrified face swam in and out of Spike’s vision as she dragged herself beside him.

Angelus let go of Dru. “You’re a good girl,” he told her as he pushed her aside, wiping at his torn mouth with the back of his hand. Savouring his victory as Spike lay stunned and half-conscious.

Buffy was a soft weight on his stomach as she laid down her head. She managed to find his hand and he heard her murmuring words that he couldn’t make out. They trailed away and it went very quiet. Dru and Angelus stood above him. Buffy pressed against him and, like some ghastly tableau, the moment froze and everyone was still.

Angelus could have stopped Dru at any time, Spike knew that. Knew that he’d let her hit him just enough to take him down and weaken him. He’d been right. In trying to be a man Spike had forgotten how to think like a vampire.

“There were supposed to be rules,” he managed to croak out. “You said there were rules.”

“Oh yes.” Angelus’ voice sounded thick and somewhere off in the distance. “I might have mentioned them. What are they now? One to one combat, Witnesses. Victor walks away. Vanquished pays the forfeit. Do you mean those?” Hitching his trousers at the knee, he crouched down and searched his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe his face. “You mean those rules you don’t give a fuck about? Well, my lad, I have news for you. We’re more alike than you think, because I don’t give a fuck about them either.”

---------------------------------------------

Buffy thought that all there was left of the dream was to die right alongside him. She had no idea how she’d got herself across the room and there’d been a good chance that Drusilla would have killed her too. Just one blow would have seen to that. But she’d gone anyway.

Angelus pulled her up with him as Spike lay, eyes glazed and staring at the ceiling. A pool of dark red blood made a grisly halo around his head and, because he wasn’t breathing, he looked already dead.

She called his name and reached out for him, tangling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, but they slipped through as Angelus dragged her away.

“Take more than that to kill him,” he remarked casually, glancing down at Spike. “Don’t worry my little peach, he’ll be right as rain in a few weeks. If he lives that long.”

She stumbled weakly against him as he tugged on her hand, her stomach heaving. Too much blood, it seemed to be everywhere, painting her whole world red. Spike groaned and she saw him lift his hand, then drop it again. Before she could react Angelus had her in his arms and was striding towards the staircase, shouting something about William to the waiting minions. They scurried into the room and Buffy didn’t see what happened to him because Angelus was, by now half way up the stairs.

The world was still there, but Buffy didn’t feel part of it anymore. Reality had started to twist the day she’d met Spike and she’d gone with it, accepted and adjusted to it. Thought that with the things she’d seen, nothing could shock her anymore. But she was wrong. In the bizarre place she now inhabited it wasn’t the vampires and the monsters that made her want to run screaming into the night. It was the common, everyday things like separation and loss. Seeing a loved one in pain and knowing that they might die. Things from the real world, that ordinary folk have to deal with every day. They were still infinitely more terrifying.

She’d sat with Drusilla and Angelus, scared but with her spirit still intact, confident that she could endure anything they put her through. The pain of their bites would dull and the scars eventually fade. But seeing Spike so broken had plummeted her into a pit of despair. Knowing that there was little she could do to help him held her there. And the thought that he might die and she’d never see him again made her want to stay there forever.

Drusilla scurried after them and Buffy felt her slip her arm into Angelus’ as he negotiated the stairs.

"Are we going to turn her now?" she said with obvious excitement.

"Not yet, Dru. Look, why don't you go down and look after William, if you get my meaning. Make sure he's comfortable?"

"Want to stay with you."

"Not now, darlin'. Run and play with your dolls or something."

“Are you cross with me my Angel?”

Angelus stopped at the top of the stairs and held onto Buffy while he reached out for Dru with his other hand. “Of course not, Dru,” he said scraping a nail down her cheek. “Just want to be alone with this one for a while. Now be a good girl and bugger off.”

Dru growled when Angelus patted her on the bottom and shoved her away.

“Starting to annoy me, Dru, he warned. Want to have some fun before Darla comes back. Go amuse yourself with William, and be sure to tell him what I’m doing up here.”

“Darla isn’t going to like this.”

“Well, of course she isn’t. Why do you think I need to do this now?”

Buffy tried to struggle, but it really wasn’t any use, she was no match for the kind of strength he commanded.

Angelus left Dru standing on the landing as he shouldered open a bedroom door and Buffy felt the softness of the quilt as he dropped her onto the bed. She’d listened to the exchange between him and Dru and had heard the jealousy and resentment in Dru’s voice. Knew she had another reason to fear her now and hoped that she wouldn’t take it out on Spike.

Through half-closed eyes she watched Angelus strip off his blood-stained shirt and drop it to the floor. How much of it was Spike’s she couldn’t tell, it was all starting to blur and run together. She should do something, jump from the bed and fight her way to where he was. Hold on to him, be with him when he needed her and was in pain. But instead she was here and helpless. Swept along by a current too strong to swim against. Just conscious enough to know what was happening, but with no reserves to do anything but go with it.

The bed creaked as Angelus sat on the edge and his hand was surprisingly gentle as he touched her.

“What shall I do with you, Buffy?” he said, more to himself than to her. “Drusilla tells me you don’t want to be a vampire.”

Buffy rolled her head toward him and focused on his broad, hairy chest, thick neck and square jaw. Dark hair brushed his shoulders and in the dimly lit room, his eyes seemed as black as night. His fingers traced a line along her arm, making her tremble as they swept upward to the strap of her camisole. Buffy held her breath as he eased it down then bent and kissed her bare shoulder. With a sigh, he did the same to the other one until both her straps were hanging down and her breasts barely concealed by the thin cotton of her top.

“Ahh, Buffy. You taste so sweet,” he whispered in a voice heavy with arousal. “I can see why William didn’t want to turn you.”

It was just a physical act. She’d said it to herself, and to him, and creepy as his hand was on her skin, she found that if she kept that in mind, then she might be able to endure it after all.

“Men are all the same,” she told him as his fingers continued their exploration. “All they want is this.”

“Are we that transparent?” he said hitching himself up onto the bed so that he was lying beside her, his head propped on his elbow.

“Painfully so,” she said recognising the look of lust and want in his expression.

“I could just take it.”

“And you wouldn’t be the first man who’s said that to me.”

Angelus’ eyes narrowed. “So, that means you have an answer ready, no doubt.”

“Do what you want, you already know I care little for what happens to me.”

“Oh, I will, don’t worry about that. Give me that answer.”

It was his first sign of weakness towards her. She had no hope of beating him as Spike might, in a fight, but there was the slightest hint of agitation in his voice as he demanded that she tell him what he wanted to know. And it was her only advantage. With hardly the strength to lift her own arm this was a straw to clutch at, if only she could keep her nerve. Spike wasn’t dead yet, and neither was she. And that castle in Scotland was still there.

Angelus watched with a bemused expression, his brow creased as he tried to work out what she was thinking.

“Wouldn’t you prefer me to come willingly to your bed?”

Angelus arched an eyebrow. “That’s your answer?”

Buffy nodded and turned to stare back at the ceiling, but Angelus took her face in his hand and forced her back towards him.

“What kind of answer is that?”

She shrugged. “When was the last time a human gave herself to you from choice? It’s still there isn’t it? The lure of warm, willing flesh, rather than the cold indifference of a vampire.”

Angelus laughed and looked away. When he looked back he was composed, his face an impassive mask once more. “I like it when they struggle,” he said leaning close to her face. “Their cries of pain only excite me more, as yours will.” He sat up again and then suddenly he lunged at her pinning her arms above her head and dropping his full weight on her. “I’ll have you now shall I? Then you can see what your struggles do to me.”

“As you wish,” she said in a shakier voice than she would have liked and knowing that he could feel her heart hammering with fear. She couldn’t stop that, but she wasn’t going to give him any more satisfaction than she could help. And this, she did have control over.

His hand pulled roughly at her petticoats as he shoved them to her waist and the thin cotton of her drawers gave easily as he ripped them away.

Buffy kept very still suddenly aware that, just as she’d had power over Spike when she’d first met him, she might have here too, with Angelus. Monster though he was she could sense that there might be a place she might reach him. A place, that, if she went there, she might not return from, but there was no sacrifice she wouldn’t make to save Spike. That had already been decided.

His hand was jammed between her legs now, working at her soft flesh with his cold, probing fingers and she could feel how hard he was. How ready he was to take her, whether she agreed or not. He rubbed against her, grunted and groaned, threatened and swore, but his expression, instead of passion only held frustration. Buffy kept as still as she could as he tried to work a response from her, and she even managed to catch and hold his gaze, which only infuriated him more.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he ordered. “Fight me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have the energy, and even if I did, I wouldn’t.”

Angelus rolled away from her, threw her a dark glare then whacked the pillow beside her head so hard that it burst, spraying feathers into the air. Buffy jumped violently, then nearly choked as the feathers floated down and started to settle onto her face.

“Then I’ll take you downstairs and we’ll do this in front of William. We’ll see if you don’t fight when I have him tortured in front of your eyes.” He batted angrily at the floating feathers as he spoke. They settled onto his hair and body and Buffy almost laughed at the ludicrous picture he made.

“In that case, I will fight you. It’s quite simple really,” she replied fending off more feathers.

He caught her arm as she wafted the feathers away. “You’ll fight me for him, but not to save yourself. I don’t believe you’re that strong. Do you know who you’re dealing with here?”

Buffy sagged back against the pillows. The exchange was using up all of her precious little reserves, but she couldn’t afford to show any weakness now. The very fact that she was having this conversation was a miracle.

“Of course I do. You’re the great Angelus, Feared throughout the demon world. I’ll bow to you, give you what you want and participate willingly, if you let Spike go.”

Angelus snorted. “And you really think he’ll just quietly leave?”

“Tell him I want to stay, tell him I’ve fallen in love with you. Tell him what you like. Anything you need to make him go. Do you really want to see him dead?”

“I’ll miss the sex, have to say that.” Angelus smiled to himself. “No-one takes it like our William.”

Buffy faltered, then recovered herself. Something else that had never crossed her mind. Such things obviously existed, but Spike and Angelus? How?

Angelus laughed loudly at her stunned expression. “Oh my God, that’s priceless. Go look at yourself in the mirror.” He rolled his face towards her, a smirk still on his lips. “Never heard of buggery? Our William is quite the whore, don’t you know? Lovely firm arse. Nice and tight.”

He went off into another peal of laughter as Buffy covered her eyes with her hands in an effort to make the pictures of the two of them together go away. Eventually she took a deep breath and let them drop.

“It’s just a physical act,” she said. “That’s all sex without love is. A release. A moment of pleasure. It’s of no importance.”

“Lofty words, Buffy. You talk big for such a little one.”

“And you never seem to stop talking.”

“I could put your eyes out for saying that.”

“Then I wouldn’t be beautiful any more.”

Angelus sat up and raked back his hair. “You are going to make one hell of a vampire, do you know that? A natural, if ever I saw one. And you’re staying here with me. Darla will just have to put up with it.”

“But then I wouldn’t be Buffy any more. I’d just be another cold addition to your bed.”

Buffy had no idea where this was all leading. Angelus could turn on her at any moment, unleash the monster. Kill her in the blink of an eye. What if she’d got this wrong? What if he didn’t care a jot about her being human, why should he?

Except for the fact that he shouldn’t be looking at her the way he was. He shouldn’t even be thinking about his decision to turn her.

Only he was.

Bonds formed in times of adversity are often the strongest. At that moment she felt closer to Spike than she’d ever done, because her love had been tested and she’d come through. Even if all it did was keep Spike alive, she knew she could do this, for him. He wasn’t going to like it, but he would understand and still love her, she trusted him to do that.

And it was all she had so she waited, hardly breathing, while Angelus thought.

“No,” he said at last. “I’ll give you that. If I turned you, you certainly wouldn’t be Buffy any more.”

And with those words, he stood up, snatched a clean shirt from the chair and left the room without a backward glance.
-----------------------------

His mum used to sing to him. William had loved the old folk songs and his mother knew them all. Even when he’d gone well past the stage, he’d still enjoyed sitting at her knee and listening while she sang.

Spike let his eyes drift open as the song floated over him. Pain sliced through his head, sharp and penetrating. Being a vampire didn’t make it hurt less. As he tried to twist and sit up another pain, not quite as bad, cut into his side. Carefully, he laid his head back down and tried to remember why he was here, in a dark cellar on a narrow cot and chained to the wall.

It all came back in a rush. The memory of his failure. How he’d let her down. How his loving her enough to die for her still couldn’t save her.

The voice sang on as pain of a different kind filled him and he rolled his head to the side and focused on the source of it. “Mother?” he called out, already knowing it couldn’t be, but pain and sadness weighed so heavily on him that he was having trouble separating memory from reality. “Dru?”

She clicked her tongue at him in characteristic Dru fashion and walked towards him.

“Poor William,” she said standing by the bed. “What happened to you?”

Spike managed a croaky laugh at her look of concern. “You hit me, pet. Remember?”

“No, what happened to you? You used to be such a good boy for mummy.”

“I grew up, Dru. How bad is it?” It was an effort to talk, but if anyone could help him, Dru could. Even though she’d been the one to incapacitate him, her unpredictability was his only hope.

“Did I hurt you?” She tipped her head, her expression softening. Spike never could tell how genuine her feelings were, but it was something.

“Be a good girl and see what the damage is.”

She came closer and as she bent down to look he grabbed her wrist. “Where’s Buffy?”

Dru shook him off angrily.

“Little girl’s stolen my Angel. He’s going to turn her, make her like us. Then he won’t want me any more.”

A theatrical sniffle finished the tirade, but Spike heard the resentment in her tone. Dru had always been unnaturally possessive of her sire, part of the madness and also a kind of insecurity, he guessed. Like a child resenting a sibling more than a jealous lover. Only Darla took precedence over Dru.

It was worth latching on to.

“We don’t want that, do we, love? Let me take her away from here, you’ll never see her again. Then you can make Angelus forget all about her.”

“Why don’t we let him kill her, instead?”

“Because he won’t. You know he’s going to turn her, don’t you?”

“Little girl doesn’t want to be a vampire.”

Dru sat down on the edge of the cot and reached her hand towards his head. “Look at the mess I made, Spike. So pretty.”

“Make it better, Dru.”

“I could kill her for you. Then you’d come home, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I wouldn’t Dru. And if you kill her, Angelus will kill you.”

Dru sighed and for a moment, looked quite sane, and a little sad. “I know,” she said. Gentle fingers traced the outline of the hole she’d made then she brought her blood-covered fingers to her lips and sucked on them. “Sweet William,” she murmured appreciatively. “Do you think Angelus will let me turn her? Then she could be your sister.”

“No,” he said, patiently. “We don’t want her turned. Where is she Dru?”

“Took her to his bedroom, said he had to have her before Darla came back.”

Spike’s insides twisted at the words and images of past victims flooded his mind. Girls crying and whimpering with fear, Angelus could terrify them before he’d even laid a finger on them. Buffy was tough, but Angelus was a master.

“Unchain me, pet.” Spike pulled on the manacles, knowing they’d be vampire proof. “Go get the key.”

“Can’t do that Spike. You’ve been a naughty boy.” Dru stood up and looked around. “Where’s William gone?”

“You killed him, Dru. Try and focus will you?” He knew he was losing her and that she wasn’t about to unchain him, that had been too much to ask. But if she’d ever had any affection for him, now was the time to remind her of it.

She wandered off muttering to herself, every now and then moving her arm dramatically.

“Dru. I’ll take her away,” he said softly. “You’ll never see us again. Then you’ll have Angelus all to yourself.”

She turned suddenly, her eyes wide. “I know,” she said. “I know how it ends.”

He didn’t want to know. Whatever she’d seen, there was only one way this could end in his mind. “Get me some blood, Dru. I need to feed so I can heal and beat Angelus.”

“No.” She advanced back on him, waving her finger. “No beating Angelus. Bad boy.”

“I won’t kill him, pet. Just need to get away. Please help me.”

Vampires have no souls. No consciences. Nothing left of their humanity. They weren’t supposed to be able to love and perform selfless acts. Weren’t supposed to feel concern for another being. The world was theirs. They moved through it taking what they wanted, when they wanted it. The past was of no concern and the future stretched out to infinity so all that mattered was here and now.

Spike was proof that it wasn’t true. That in a world of right and wrong, good versus evil it was possible to walk both paths. His past was creeping up on him, gathering at the edge of his vision. It wasn’t remorse, but there was something which made him see, for the first time, just how long the line of his victims was. And virtual immortality had made him treat the future with contempt. Why did he need to worry about planning and doing things when he had all the time in the world?

Not any more. If Buffy wanted to remain human they’d only have a lifetime together. Not enough time, but all they were going to get, and he couldn’t afford to waste a single day. Every day without her was a day to regret, a day to remember after she’d gone and left him to face forever alone.

The break in his voice stopped Dru and again she gave him one of her searching stares and the light in her eyes glowed just a little brighter as did his very small feeling of hope that she might help him. If Spike was an anomaly it was because of her. As he’d been left with some lingering traces of his humanity, then so had she. The madwoman created by Angelus had kept a tenacious hold on the vampire that she’d been forced to become, the demon never succeeding totally in controlling her.

She sat herself on the cot, near to his head and arranged her skirts carefully around her. “People used to come for miles around,” she said inspecting the palms of her hands. “Healing hands, that’s what they called them. Priest said it was a gift from God and I must use it wisely.”

Spike felt the energy as she reached for his wound and hovered her palm above it.

“Then one day the devil came and made me into a vampire,” she continued. “But God didn’t want his gift back. Why would a vampire want the gift of healing?”

“It’s called irony, pet. Just keep doing that.”

He was using her, she probably knew it, and perhaps part of him was still able to feel sorry for her, despite what she’d done. She was just as much a victim as anyone at the end of the day.

The healing energy flowed through him and with it came a renewed hope that they would get through this. Buffy was expecting a castle in Scotland and even if she didn’t get that, he was determined to give her part of the dream. William had always wanted a house with a balcony. Somewhere he could sit at night and look out over the city lights, or up at the starry sky. Somewhere to sit with his lady love and read her his awful poetry.

He wasn’t sure if it was Dru’s touch that was sparking the pictures in his mind, but he could see them so clearly they almost felt like memories rather than dreams.

“Drink,” she said pulling back her collar and sliding to the floor so that she was kneeling by the bed.

Sire’s blood. Did she have any idea how potent that was? Or was she just being her usual mercurial self? Spike didn’t stop to question it further. It was exactly what he needed to heal and his demon was already there urging him to get on with it before she changed her mind.

She gave a small moan as his fangs pierced her neck and as he fed, greedily taking as much as he could, he felt her body responding. His did too, he couldn’t help it. Sire’s blood was the ambrosia of the vampire world and there was no ecstasy like it. His fingers dug hard into her shoulders as he held her in place, knowing that Angelus would probably half-kill her for letting him do this. But he didn’t care. His strength and power was coming back and that was all that mattered.

“I’ll always know where you are, my William. You can’t hide from me.”

Spike let go and slipped back into human face, shaking all over from her gift. “It’ll be our little secret, yes?” he said wiping the blood from his lips. “You like secrets, don’t you Dru?”

She nodded and primly readjusted her collar. “Darla’s back. Can you hear them?”

He listened. Voices, somewhere upstairs, he couldn’t tell where, but the exchange was heated. Angelus and Darla no doubt having one of their infamous ‘spats’.

“She’s very cross.” Dru giggled. “Angelus thinks he’s head of the family, but he’d not is he? Darla’s going to put him right.”

Spike lay back as Dru walked away. “Thanks,” he called after her, but she didn’t turn, or acknowledge him. The door closed after her and he heard the scrape of the key as it turned in the lock, and then her retreating footsteps as she climbed the stairs. Another bang as the cellar door closed. Then it was silent.

Except for the voices. Spike concentrated hard, his vampire senses enhanced by the sire’s blood, and listened.

Darla was angry, he could hear that. Angelus on the defensive. And it had nothing to do with finding Buffy here, Darla didn’t give a twig who Angelus took to his bed. What she did care about was her precious Master, her own sire who was so old that his features were no longer human. The real head of the family and the Order of Aurelius to which they all belonged. They were the cream of the vampire crop, or so he told them, Spike had always found him a boring prat but he’d bowed and paid his dues when he’d had to, as Darla always did.

The master liked his protocol. Liked everything done properly according to the Vampire Code. And Angelus was getting that code recited to him in great detail right now. A public challenge had been made, and there were rules. Rules which the Master expected to be obeyed. They weren’t some fly-by-night renegade band, they were the Order of Aurelius and all the gobbledygook that went with it.

Spike would get his fight. That made him shudder with relief. And the victor would get Buffy. More relief that Darla hadn’t just killed her on sight for being the cause of this rift in the family, but that meant that this time there would be no room for error. He was being given a second chance and it would be his last one.

All he could do now was let the sire’s blood do its job and heal him. And think of Buffy. Poor Buffy, alone and terrified. Just a girl shouldering burdens too heavy for any human to carry. But she would, because she was Buffy and she was far stronger than she’d ever know.

Sire’s blood. There was no ecstasy like it.

Except for that he’d found in the love of a young woman he’d picked up by chance one night in a dark alley. A woman he still may have to die for.

Buffy was his salvation. He only hoped he would be strong enough to be hers.

tbc...

Chapter 18

There was only one way to get through this and that was to believe with everything she had that Spike would win. And by winning, he would save them both.

She sat on the edge of the hard bed that made up virtually all the furniture in the small attic room in which she’d been locked and wondered why God should have brought him this far along the road to redemption, only to abandon him to the devil after all. It didn’t make any sense.

Lying back, she closed her eyes. Perhaps they’d been destined to meet in that alley that night and it wasn’t just chance? This far along the road she was starting to see that this might be part of a pattern in some grand design. It was almost as if Spike was being tested, that in loving and protecting her he was being given a chance to show that he was still worthy. But of what? A place in heaven? Even though he’d never said it, she knew that to be with her in the afterlife was what he wanted above everything. But how do you atone for ten years of murder and mayhem? How could anyone ever justify Spike a place in heaven if they read a cold, hard account of what he’d done?

They couldn’t. Buffy fought back the tears. Spike’s crimes would fill a book with pages that would disgust and horrify. That would leave the reader in no doubt as to the ending. Until they got to the last few chapters. Weren’t all the best tales those with a twist in them? Somewhere along the line Spike had made a decision to change, he probably didn’t even know when himself, and God must have seen something worth saving because things had been set in motion to give him that chance.

The dull throbbing in her head increased. She’d lost track of the hours and it was dark now and had been for some time. Apart from some dry biscuits and water she’d been given no other food and she was to stay in this room until Spike, or Angelus came to claim her. She was being treated as no more than an object being fought over by two disputing parties, and Darla had been particularly cold and calculating about it. Buffy would die instantly if either Angelus or Spike tried to circumvent the law again. It would all be done properly and in front of The Master, whoever he was.

So all she could do now was wait and believe that good was always destined to prevail over evil. That light would always drive away the darkness, and that love could change the very nature of the universe itself. Spike’s soul was still out there somewhere, and she’d been sent to help him find it. If he could regain what he’d lost then they would be together.

Buffy prayed like she’d never prayed before. For Spike and also for herself, for her own immortal soul. For them to be together Spike needed to find his soul again, but there was another way, an infinitely more terrifying way.

He could regain his soul, or she could lose hers.

----------------------------------

The Master was every bit as boring as he remembered him. Spike tried his best to look humble, bending his knee and bowing his head at all the right moments. Angelus did the same, although Spike didn’t miss the slight swagger as he went up to pay his respects. Angelus wasn’t known for his obedience and it was lucky for the both of them that an ancient curse had bound the Master to this underground cave otherwise neither of them would have got away with their behaviour of the past few years.

“Both of you are a disgrace,” he announced waving his claw-like fingers dramatically. “There are ways of doing things that are not, and never will be open to question. I deny permission for either of you to leave the order, that is not open for debate. You are, and always will be a part of this family, no matter that neither of you seem to have any ideas of loyalty, nor any pride in what you are.”

And so it went on for the next half an hour. After a while Spike stopped listening and concentrated instead on what he was about to do. He was going to win, that was the only option. Angelus knelt beside him, a small smirk on his lips as he stared blatantly at the Master. They were supposed to avert their eyes, but for all his pomposity, the Master was a pragmatist who knew that, with his limited power, this was the most he was ever going to get out of them. The only reason Angelus was here at all was for the chance to show off, and because of Darla’s insistence.

Spike sneaked a look around. Word must have got out that there was a challenge afoot judging by the crowds lining the walls. Just what the Master needed to bolster his already over-inflated ego. More minions to bow and scrape to him and tell him how wonderful he was and how lucky they were to be a part of this.

“And so we come to the disputed property.” The Master leaned over as Darla filled him in on the details. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “You both claim ownership of this human female.” He curled back his lip with disdain as he said it. “Is that correct?”

“There’s no dispute,” Angelus said calmly looking Spike in the eye. “This upstart is under the delusion that she’s his when my claim is clear for all to see.”

Spike only just stopped himself going for Angelus there and then. He tensed every muscle in his body to keep himself in place and calm. “My claim was there first,” he said in a voice that was shakier than he would have liked, but here was Angelus playing his mind games already. Trying to goad him into losing his temper.

Darla whispered to the Master again and he nodded.

“A sire’s bite will always override that of a childe’s, you should know that William. Why has this even been bought before me?” He looked around, a suitably insulted expression on his face as if he was far too important to have been bothered with so trivial a matter. Darla soothed and petted him and he sighed deeply.

“Very well, I understand a challenge has been made?”

“Bloody right there has.” Spike stood up and jabbed a finger at Angelus. “I’ll fight him here and now. Prove beyond a doubt that this woman is mine.”

“And I’ll dispute that with one arm tied behind my back.” Angelus stood too, spread his arms wide and appealed to the crowd. “Does this look like a fair fight? I mean, really.” He inclined his head at Spike who was still covered in blood from his injury, and the crowd burst into rowdy laughter.

The cat-calls began. Whistles and jeers, fingers pointing, arms waving as the crowd whipped themselves up for the fight. The Master tried to shout them down, but already sides were being taken, bets placed. And the chant was taken up, Angelus’ name mainly, reverberating around the room. “Tell you what, my lad,” Angelus told him. “I’m happy to share her with you, after I’ve had my fill of her, of course. Can’t say fairer than that now, can I?”

“And I’m happy to kill you for her,” Spike said through gritted teeth. “And because I’m a generous sort, I’ll make it quick.” Spike turned to the crowd. “Can’t say fairer than that, can I?”

They all fell about again. Spike knew how this worked. Four people at the most were here because of vampire tradition, or any respect for it. The rest were interested in nothing but the feeding frenzy. They were here to see blood shed and hopefully a gory death. Spike had watched humans fighting it out for entertainment, but they never lasted very long. Two vampires on the other hand, that was worth being here for and would provide a spectacle that would be talked about for years to come.

Dru clapped her hands with all the glee of a child at the circus and Darla stood, emotionless, beside the Master as they waited for the crowd to calm down again. Angelus shot him a glare and flicked back his hair and Spike tried to focus on only one thing. Winning.

He tried to ignore the odds. The fact that he still hadn’t beaten Angelus in a fight and the pain in his barely-healed skull. The sickening thought of what would happen to both him and Buffy if he lost.

As they were led away to prepare, he had only one picture in his mind. Buffy, back at the house waiting for him. Pinning all her hopes on him, but also lending him strength. The best preparation he could do for this was to remember that she needed him as much as he needed her. He’d helped her to cheat death and she’d helped him to believe in himself. In the ebb and flow of things it was his turn to shoulder the burden again. And so it would be for the rest of their time together. If he got through this she’d be waiting and then he’d be able to lay down his head and rest awhile.

All the crowd saw was two vampires facing each other in an arena from which only one would leave alive. Fighting to possess a human who would either become a tasty snack or immortal, like them. It was all they saw because none of them could comprehend what was really happening in front of them. None of them saw the man behind the monster. None of them saw the thing that made the difference in this.

Spike was going to win because he had something Angelus would never have. He still had William. William, who now quietly stepped forward once more and took his place beside the demon. Spike had been wrong to push him back, you don’t see clearly in the dark, you just lose your way and hate and rage are heavy and hold you in place so that you can’t move. William took the demon’s hand and showed him the way.

Forget how much he hated Angelus and remember how much he loved Buffy.

Pick up the sword and end this now.

---------------------------------------------

Time ceased to have any meaning for Buffy. She lay on the bed, eyes focussed on the door. It would open sooner or later and then she’d know whether it was to be the dream, or the nightmare. And with every moment that passed the questions in her head increased. Where was he? Why didn’t he come? What had happened to him?

It was easy to tell herself that he would win, but desperately wanting to believe that wasn’t enough. The cold voice of reason told her that he was injured and Angelus had all the advantages right now. Spike would do his best, but it was all he could do.

Terror froze her mind and the walls of her prison closed in on her. The bites ached where the soft scabs pulled at the skin, and the corset, which she was still wearing, dug into her ribs. Her efforts to take it off only succeeded in tightening and knotting the laces, further imprisoning her and for a moment she lost all sight of reason.

Running across the room, she threw herself at the door and thumped on it with her fists, screaming until she was hoarse. If Spike was in the house he’d hear her, at least. And he’d know that she was still alive, still defiant. Clawing at the bites did nothing but re-open them and cover her with more blood, but, when she collapsed into an exhausted heap onto the floor she did feel better. More focussed. Back on the bed, she concentrated on a positive outcome until eventually, exhaustion claimed her.

Somewhere, in the murky depths of her bloodstained dreams she heard the scrape of a key in a lock. Her heart was already hammering in panic as she struggled to wake up, already aware that this was the moment she’d been both looking forward to and dreading. She half sat, propped on one elbow as she pushed back her tangled hair and stared at the door.

All she saw was Angelus. Even before the door opened she saw him and no matter how hard she tried. Spike’s face wouldn’t come. The door crashed back and he walked into the room, carrying what looked like a dress, and threw it onto the bed.

“Put that on,” he said. “Master says we’re to bring you.”

It was the voice that got through to her, eventually. Not Angelus, which was such a relief that her knees turned to water. But not Spike either, so the ordeal wasn’t yet over.

The man was looking at her with blatantly appreciative eyes. Again, a demon hovered just out of reach, and again she felt it. He shoved the dress into her lap and waited.

“Why does the Master want me?” She stared at the rich brown silk of the dress as she spoke. Whose was it? Drusilla’s? Darla’s? Some poor victim’s?

“You’re the prize, lady. Fight’s started, I think. Don’t want to miss it, do we?”

“Are they fighting now?”

“Get on with it, will you.” The young vampire leaned forward and whispered close to her ear. “Want me to help you?”

Buffy clutched the dress to her as her mind raced on to what Spike was doing at this very moment. The vampire reached out a hand, but she batted it away.

“The Master will have something to say if you touch me again,” she told him, never doubting that was true. “I will get dressed, just give me a moment.”

The vampire’s eyes flashed gold, but he backed away, his hands held up in front of him. “You’re not to leave my sight, so get on with it,” he said curtly. Then he leaned against the wall, folded his arms and watched her while she slipped into the garment and stumbled over the buttons with shaking fingers. It was very similar to the black silk she’d worn for the journey and there were a few stains that could have been blood on the bodice. She tried not to think about the girl who’d worn this before her, nor about her fate and whether she was to join her.

In a moment of madness she tried to give the vampire the slip, but he caught her easily, dragging her downstairs to the waiting coach and bundling her into it. Another vampire joined them, one she recognised from the previous journey and they set off into the night.

Buffy had no idea what time it was. The sky was dark, but it felt like the early hours. London was quiet as they made their way out of town and into what looked like countryside. She shivered in the chill air as she tried to imagine what the Master would be like. An even worse example of a vampire than Angelus she decided. And he’d probably live in some spooky mansion in the middle of nowhere. If Spike didn’t win this fight then Buffy had no illusions that she would ever see the outside world again. Not as a human anyway.

And she soon discovered that there was only so much terror a body can take before it decided that enough was enough. How could the Master be worse than Angelus? What could he do to scare her more than she already was? There probably was something, but just then she couldn’t think of anything to match the worry of wondering who’d won the fight. Her nerves were in shreds just thinking about it and the nearer the carriage got to its destination the nearer she got to her answer.

Anxiously she strained to see where they were going, but when the carriage stopped, it was in the middle of nowhere. Or so she thought. The vampires jumped down and indicated her to do the same, then she was manhandled towards a thicket of trees which hid a rocky outcrop. They called out and were answered by another male voice and when Buffy stumbled forward, pushed by the vampire’s insistent hand, she realised that they were standing at the very narrow entrance of a cave. Not at all what she’d been expecting and she couldn’t help turning to her vampire guard and giving him a quizzical look.

He grinned back at her. “Master’s sort of stuck here, some ancient curse or other. Can you hear them? Sounds like they’ve started.”

Buffy couldn’t hear a thing, but then again she didn’t have the benefit of vampire hearing.

“He’s going to kill him, no bother. Got me bets placed.” The vampire guarding the entrance held up a scribbled note. “Best get in there quick,” he said to Buffy’s guard. “Before they close the book.”

“Bet on Spike,” Buffy suddenly cut in. “You’ll make a fortune.”

“You really think he’ll win?” The vampire took her arm and steered her down a rocky corridor, closely followed by his companion. “You’re mad. Have you seen Angelus when he’s angry?”

“I don’t need to,” she said running to keep up with him. “I just know Spike will win.”

“What, you a witch or something? Got the sight have you?”

“Yes, I am a witch,” Buffy told him, feeling the kind of boldness that comes when you’ve hardly anything left to lose. “And if you’re not careful I might yet turn you into a horned toad.”

The vampire dropped her arm momentarily, then snatched it up again, angrily.

“That’s enough of that. You’re no witch, now shut up.”

She could hear it now. Cries, chanting, cheering. The clash of steel on steel. A collective gasp, silence followed by another roar.

“I want to see,” she said, lunging in the direction of the noise, but the vampire tightened his grip and dragged her away.

“You’re not to show your face until the Master calls for you. He likes to do the prize-giving and stuff, makes him feel important.” He opened a door, revealing a small, windowless room and threw her inside. Buffy lost her footing as she stumbled and fell to the earth floor and the door closed behind her. She jumped up immediately and ran to it, but it was already locked.

There was no point in trying to beat it down, no point in crying for an outcome she had no influence over. All she could do was wait and trust in Spike. It was in his hands now, and his alone. She couldn’t even pray, even though she had been just a few hours before. It was almost as if the heaven itself was holding its breath as it waited with her, for the outcome.

Perhaps she had no right to ask God to help, but she hoped he was watching. Hoped that he’d see what Spike was trying to do. And maybe, if Spike did come through this, then God would take pity on them and let them have some happiness.

As she leaned her cheek against the rough wood and strained to hear what was going on she brought to mind every good deed that Spike had done for her since she’d met him and she pictured Spike fighting for both of their lives. And she tried as hard as she could to send him the pictures in her mind. He was so close yet so far away. She could almost feel what he was going through, but she couldn’t touch him, or help him or do anything but this.

“Just remember that I love you,” she whispered.

------------------------------------------

Angelus couldn’t decide whether he should kill Spike or not. After nearly an hour of fighting the younger vampire was tiring. Both of them were well blooded and covered in cuts and Spike’s head injury was now bleeding freely, the blood dripping over his bare back and shoulders. He lunged, slashed wildly and lost his footing, falling with a grunt. Angelus thrust with his sword, Spike rolled and the sword stabbed into the dirt floor, missing him by a hair. Spike was up and onto him as he pulled it out. His blade scraped Angelus’ side, drawing blood and Angelus returned him a diagonal slash to his chest that parted the skin in a neat, and judging by Spike’s expression, very painful cut.

Angelus grinned and wiped a finger over his own cut. “For each one, you’ll get two, or three,” he said sucking the blood from his finger. “She’s here, can you feel her?”

Spike looked around. Angelus took advantage of the distraction slashing at Spike’s chest again and opening up another wound. “Don’t want to have to kill you, boy,” he said throwing the sword from hand to hand. “I’ll miss that arse of yours, so I will.”

Spike stabbed at him again, feinting to the right then twirling round and bringing the sword hard against Angelus’ side. The crowd let out a collective gasp and for a moment the sword remained embedded as Angelus stared down at it in disbelief.

“Take a good look,” Spike said with a snarl. “You won’t be seeing it again.” He pulled out the sword and stepped back as Angelus clamped his hand to his side. “She’s not here. I’d know if she was here.”

Angelus fought against the pain as Spike circled. “Had you going though, didn’t I?” he said. “And she will be brought here, probably made to watch.” Angelus suddenly lunged forward span around and sliced across Spike’s sword arm, just above the wrist. “When I kill you.”

Spike dropped his sword with a yell. Angelus was in like a flash, kicking it across the arena. Spike put his head down and charged him, ducking under the slashing arc of his blade and hitting him square in the stomach with his head. A vampire couldn’t be winded, but the momentum knocked them both down. Spike reached for his sword, but Angelus rolled them both so that he was on top and landed a punch that glanced across Spike’s jaw. He couldn’t get the angle for a decent stab, but he could hit Spike where it hurt the most. Grabbing a handful of his hair he smashed Spike’s head against the floor, showering the dirt with a bright splash of red, then repeated the action as Spike flailed at him with his hands. He felt the satisfying give of barely-mended bones and his demon roared out its victory in time to the cries of the crowd.

Spike tried to rise but Angelus levered himself up and pinned him down with a knee to the chest. “Looks like this is it, Spike, my boy,” he said and reversed the weapon so that the hilt was facing downwards. Spike twisted his head as Angelus brought it down onto his face. It caught the cheekbone, crushing it to a splintered mess. Spike coughed and spat out a mouthful of blood as Angelus stood. Replacing his knee with his boot he leered down at his grand-childe.

The crowd started clapping, taking up the chant, and the words <i> kill, kill,</i> reverberated around the room. Angelus glanced at the Master for permission to continue, thinking that he might as well keep on the old vampire’s good side and chuckling inwardly when he saw that he had his rapt attention. Darla looked a little relieved, he thought and Dru was crying and laughing at the same time.

“Well, lad,” he said deftly reversing the sword once more and holding it in a two-handed grip over Spike’s neck. “Any last words?”

“I love you.”

Angelus frowned as Spike choked out the words and spat more blood. Then he let out a sharp laugh. “Bit late to be telling me that now, isn’t it?”

“I love you too, always will.” Spike spoke again, louder this time so that the crowd, that had fallen silent for the killing blow, strained forward to hear what he was saying.

He seemed to come from nowhere. One moment victory was in Angelus’ hand, the next he was stumbling backwards and the sword, on which he’d had such a firm grip, was spiralling up towards the ceiling. They both watched as it made a graceful arc and fell back down towards them. Angelus lunged for it, but Spike got there first, snatching it out of the air and twirling it in his fist.

“You’re right,” he said. “She is here, now.”

Angelus staggered back, more from the shock of Spike’s unexpected move than anything. A deathly silence now lay over the place as Spike faced him. Disbelief at what he was seeing made Angelus slow. He spotted Spike’s discarded sword and realised too late that he should be going for it.

“I guess she’s waiting for me,” Spike said calmly. He shook his head and laughed to himself. “Doesn’t do to keep a lady waiting, does it?” He stepped forward as Angelus went for the sword, looking him straight in the eye. “Just one thing left to do before I go.”

<i>How the hell is he even standing?</i>

It was Angelus’ last coherent thought before Spike struck. Angelus dived for the fallen sword and Spike caught him in mid air, driving the sword straight through his chest with a two-handed grip. Right up to the hilt. Straight through his heart. Dropping him with nothing more than a surprised gasp. The sword snapped as he landed on his back, the remainder protruding from his chest.

Waves of black swamped him as hell whispered to him.

<i> Soon,</i> it said. <i>Your place is ready. The fire stoked up nice and high.</i>

And Angelus felt the first real fear he’d ever felt since becoming a vampire.

He passed out screaming at the devils that had come to drag him away. And Spike’s face was the last one that he saw.

----------------------------------

Spike fell to his knees beside Angelus. The roaring of the crowd only marginally louder than the roaring in his head. They were on their feet to a man now, lauding him and crying out his name. Calling for Angelus’ death, when just a few moments ago they’d been calling for his.

A piercing shriek cut the air and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dru being held back as she struggled to get to her precious sire. Darla looked in shock, her mouth set in a bitter line, but she stayed beside the Master, observing protocol to the bitter end.

Angelus lay, unmoving, before him, blood pumping from a wound that would have been mortal, had the blade been made of wood and there was a decision to make. The killing blow to administer.

Spike never really knew what stopped him. The Master waved his hand, giving permission for him to continue. He was well within his rights to end it right there and then. To free himself from the threat of Angelus once and for all.

But something stayed his hand. Perhaps it was just a desire not to sink to his grand-sire’s level. To show the world that this Spike was better than that. That he’d learned a thing or two since meeting Buffy and he’d never be the same again.

It was completely lost on them, of course. This audience would never understand what they were seeing here.

Spike looked around at their puzzled faces which were all too soon turning to anger. Hisses and boos filled the air and shouts of coward, but Spike managed a smile for them.

‘We choose not to kill him?’ his demon asked.

‘We do,’ William replied. ‘Because we remember what mercy is.’

‘How does he deserve mercy?’ the demon replied.

‘He doesn’t,’ William said quietly. ‘That’s what makes this so hard. Yet we choose to give it, freely.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I know,’ William said. ‘But she will.’

“So, William.” The Master leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “How will he die? We all await your decision.”

He could barely stand and the euphoria of winning was fast draining out of him. More than anything he needed to get Buffy away as quickly as possible. And he needed to give Dru and Darla something to distract them while they got away. They’d both nurse Angelus back to health, he knew that, but a shattered vampire heart wouldn’t mend quickly, it was a vampire’s most vulnerable spot.

Spike leaned over the body and ripped back the collar. He needed to heal, his injuries were bad, he knew that so he took from Angelus what he needed most. His blood. His fangs pierced Angelus’ skin and to the appreciative grunts of the fickle crowd he drank and kept on drinking until he’d drained him of almost every drop.

Both Dru and Darla rushed forward as he stood up and backed away, feeling more powerful than he’d ever done. When he raised his hand it was shaking uncontrollably and out of the corner of his eye he saw Buffy’s blonde head as she was ushered towards the Master.

She’d seen him. The look on her face was one of shock, and not just because he’d survived. Spike turned away, not trusting himself to be near her right now, but the Master was calling his name. Hands on his shoulders were urging him forward and there was Buffy, her eyes huge as she took him in.

And he knew what he had to do.

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Buffy wasn’t sure what had survived the fight. Her relief that it was Spike who was still standing as she was taken into the room was short-lived when she glimpsed his face. The demon was in full force and she could feel the energy coming off him, but there was something in his eyes that she’d ever seen before.

Power. More than she’d ever seen in him, and barely contained in a dangerously fragile shell. As he stood and soaked up the crowd’s acclaim he looked as if he was about to burst out of his skin. And he was trying to avoid her gaze, even though she desperately sought his. The Master’s hands on her barely registered as she searched for the Spike she knew.

The noise reached a deafening crescendo and she could barely make out the words. More bets were being taken as she was pushed forward into the arena towards Spike and she realised with sinking heart what it was they were betting on now.

Where he’d been avoiding her, now he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Still in demon face he pinned her to the spot as he stalked towards her to the cries of,
<i>turn her,</i> and Buffy could do nothing but stare back at him and wait. This was the ultimate test of her love for him and she decided there and then that if she was going to be killed then she wanted Spike to do it. That thought calmed her and stopped her from running. So many times since she’d met him she’d wanted to run, but had been glad she’d stood firm. It’s too easy to run away from your demons, so much harder to face them. Sometimes she didn’t know where she got the courage from, but she found it, because he was worth it.

She saw it as he stopped in front of her and took her by the shoulders. Something in his eyes that told her he hadn’t abandoned William after all, as she’d feared he would. A plea for understanding at what he had to do, and she heard the message. Whatever he had to do to save face, and survive this she needed to let him do. Trusting someone so completely always involves some fear and her hand trembled as she reached up and pushed the hair away from her neck.

One of the things she’d learned since meeting Spike was to look beyond. To see past the superficial and look deeper, for the truth. Spike was more than just a monster, but he was also more than a man too. She’d learned to accept that, as she accepted it now.

His eyes widened fractionally as she moved her hair and she thought she saw gratitude there. His demon would always want to turn her, make her like him. She could only hope that it remembered how much she wanted to remain human.

The crowd burst into a round of cheering and applause as Spike’s fangs sank into her neck. Buffy heard it somewhere in the background of her mind as he drank and she felt the familiar frenzy as her blood responded. He finally pulled back in response to a slight, panicked struggle that she couldn’t stop. His grip loosened and he muttered the word sorry as he released her.

“Nearly done,” he whispered as he pushed back the hair from the other side of her neck. “Need to overwrite their claims.”

She gave him a brief nod and managed to keep still despite the dizziness that was fast overtaking her. It didn’t help that her breathing was coming in shallow gasps and her legs felt as if they were made of rubber. What did help was that it was Spike doing this and not Angelus as it could so easily have been, and that soon they would be free.

The unhealed bite was still tender and it hurt badly when he cut through the bloody scab, but he did it carefully, exposing her neck to the crowd when he’d satisfied himself that Angelus’ claim was no more. Then he pressed his bleeding wrist against it. She had no idea what the symbolism of that was, but the crowd murmured their approval. He covered Dru’s bite in a similar manner, then his own on her other wrists and it was done.

Pieces of paper floated all around them as he picked her up and, without looking back, marched from the ring. Dru and Darla were still attending to Angelus, both of them trying desperately to get him to drink from them, and Buffy realised for the first time that he was still alive.

Spike slipped back to human face as he saw her looking.

“Don’t ask me why,” he said. “I hardly know myself.”

“I don’t have to ask,” she told him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “That is the most amazing thing I’ve seen you do so far. I think heaven is breathing again.”

He managed a small smile for her. A little sad, as if he couldn’t quite believe that heaven would be interested in his insignificant efforts to prove that he was more than the monster he appeared to be. Buffy held on to him and pressed herself against his bare chest that was still slippery with his blood.

There would always be blood. It was part of who he was, and part of who she was too now. His had stopped flowing, but it seeped into her clothes and onto her skin, mixing with hers and binding them together in a knot that would never be untied.

He stopped only once as they made their way out of the cave, their progress impeded by vampires who wanted to shake his hand or pat him on the back. Setting her down he picked up his discarded shirt and pulled it over his head, then he took Angelus’ jacket and searched through the pockets. Enough money to see them through the next few weeks at least. Most of it probably Spike’s anyway. Someone ran up to them as Spike slipped the too-large, jacket on and pressed another pile of banknotes into them.

“Collected these from the ring,” he said looking up at Spike with obvious hero-worship. “Master says you can have some. For being so entertaining like.”

Spike pocketed the money without a word, turned and left.

The coach was still waiting, the driver scrabbling up to do their bidding as they appeared. Spike put her inside and climbed up beside her after shouting instructions to him. And it was only then, when he flopped into the seat and lay back with a groan, that she realised how badly injured he was. The strength he’d shown at the end of the fight seemed to be draining out of him before her eyes. In the dim, early morning light she could see that there was nothing left and it was her turn now, to be strong.

“Thank you,” she whispered cradling his face in her hands.

He looked back at her, bleary eyed, and she heard him mutter, “<i>you’re welcome </i>” before his arm looped around her neck and he pulled her in for a kiss.

Surprisingly passionate for one so weak, but he’d always have the energy to tell her this.

“Love you,” he said with a tired, lop-sided smile.

“I know.” Buffy wiped his lips with her thumb, cleaning away Angelus’ blood. Anxiously, she smoothed back his hair, skimmed over his wound and felt a small ripple of panic when she saw how much blood there was.

“It’ll heal,” he told her. “Just need you to look after me for a while.”

“Always, Spike.”

He nodded in agreement and when he took her bloodstained hand and proceeded to lick it clean for her with slow strokes of his tongue her body started to respond in what was probably not the most appropriate manner, considering his injuries.

“Not sure I’m up to that right now,” he said picking up on it with a chuckle. “You might have to give me a day or so.”

Buffy settled him onto her breast and leaned back into the corner of the carriage. She couldn’t see a day going by without Spike making love to her, no matter what state he was in. And she’d always want him to be her one and only lover. Neither her brother, nor Angelus had taken that from her and she thanked God for it. Spike was the first and he would be her last.

He’d fallen asleep, so she closed her eyes too. They were together now for whatever lifetime the fates had decreed for her. As a human, it was all she was ever going to have anyway. All she could hope was that they didn’t cut the thread too short. The fate that determined the length of your life was blindfolded. She didn’t take account of whether you deserved a long life, nor of the job you had to complete before you could let go.

Buffy felt it strange that in meeting Spike her faith in God should have been shaken to the core, but it had only strengthened. And so had her belief that there was more at work in this world than she’d ever thought possible. He was at the core of it though and something was happening here. She didn’t know why, nor did she know what either of them had done to deserve this divine intervention. All they’d done was love each other.

Perhaps God’s hand would guide fate when she came to cut the thread of Buffy’s life. He knew what she needed to do and how much time she needed for it. Spike wouldn’t be redeemed in a single act and he needed her now more than at any other time.

She’d started the journey with him, lit the torch and carried the light, but one day she’d have to pass it to him and he’d have to bear it alone.

And he’d be strong enough. This was Spike. Couldn’t be a vampire, couldn’t be a man. That was true, because he was more than that. More than the sum of his parts. Spike was the kind of anomaly that made hell gnash its teeth and heaven dance with joy. Someone who’d lost his soul, but who was determined to win it back.

And someday, he would. Buffy believed that with all her heart.

Tbc in the Epilogue….

Epilogue

Spike

The past is done and I let it go, because if I spent too much time thinking about it I would never move from this spot. I accept what I was as I accept what I am now, and I stopped questioning it long ago. The future too, is a place I try not to think about. Sometimes, when I awake at night I can almost feel my heart beating in a frenzy of panic over what it will inevitably bring. I’ve never liked being alone. All I ever wanted was for someone to love me, and the privilege of being able to love them back.

William never got that chance in life. He was a good man who perhaps, deserved more. Yet, he was always held back by the fear of rejection. And my demon destroyed everything it touched through its desire to possess and dominate. Hold something too tightly and it crushes to dust in your hand, but if you don’t hold on, then it slips through your fingers.

A fine balancing act, but one which William and the demon seem to have mastered. I’ll always be a worrier, but I try to limit my concerns to one day at a time now. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Today she’s here with me and that’s all I need. So I hold her carefully and appreciate everything she does for me. I’m still her fool for love, and gladly so. Besotted isn’t too strong a term to describe what I feel for her. I’d worship the ground she walks on, if she’d let me and I’ll remain, at her side, her champion to the end.

We made it as far as Edinburgh, a good place for vampires, and we live in a quiet corner at the bottom of a lane. Far enough away from prying eyes but not so isolated that we feel too cut off from the world. Buffy paints and I write and together we scrape by a living. Every day the local abattoir delivers us a canister of fresh blood which, to the casual eye must looks like a milk delivery. It’s pretty vile stuff, but I put up with it, for her.

I still do it all for her, and will continue to do so after she’s gone because she’s asked me too. I know she worries incessantly about it and I’ve reassured her as much as I can that I won’t kill again. It’s not easy, but then I never thought it would be. Sometimes the urge is just so strong and it’s a struggle not to give in to it. Not so much to kill, but the instinct to hunt and the need for human blood is a powerful one. I’m still a vampire at the end of the day, albeit a strange one.

We go to the pub and the theatre and Music Hall and to all the world must look like any normal couple. My demon told me once that vampires don’t do cosy domesticity, but they can if they put their mind to it. You can do anything with the proper motivation. We’re anything but normal though. Who could ever begin to comprehend what we are and what we have?

Buffy

I never knew what peace there was in love. The fire and the passion are still there, but the years have brought a kind of contentment I never thought possible. Spike writes wickedly popular tales involving murders and monsters and it seems the public can’t get enough of them. The more grisly the detail, the more they sell and I’ve resisted the temptation to ask him where he gets his inspiration, although I have my suspicions. William the Bloody is quite the famous author, although no one has ever seen him in public, which only adds to his kudos. Mysterious and reclusive, last year I accepted an award on his behalf from the Crime Writer’s Guild and I think he’s proud of it, even though he says he doesn’t care a jot about it. William would have loved that kind of recognition in life, although William would never have written anything like this.

It still amuses me to see him scribbling away in the dark. He got his balcony and spends hours out there writing with the city spread out below him. It’s one of our favourite places to make love. We keep a wicker sofa there that has seen many a passionate encounter and it’s perhaps a good thing that we don’t have any immediate neighbours as I can’t imagine what they would make of us.

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She takes a moment to watch him as he scribbles away, his hand moving swiftly over the paper, stopping every now and then to chew at the tip of the pencil as he elaborates on his ingenious plots. The fading evening light shows up his vampire face and a smile creeps across her lips. Poor demon, this is the nearest it gets to its former days of glory. It kills now with pen and paper and its only outlet are the words on the page. It growls softly as it remembers what it was like to be there and for a moment it looks longingly out over the city at the bottom of the hill and she can almost feel the yearning within. Years of living with a vampire have tuned her senses so that she can feel the calling almost as strongly as he can.

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Buffy

Angelus finally caught up with us. One night as we were coming out of a pub I noticed a familiar figure standing in the shadows and I knew it was him. Spike had been well prepared for this meeting and immediately leapt to my defence, demon hovering just out of reach. He went for him, but I stopped him because I could tell from where I was that something wasn’t quite right.

Angelus stepped forward and I was shocked by his appearance. Rough and unshaven, his clothes threadbare, but it wasn’t that which gave me pause so much as the expression on his face. He looked like a man who’d seen some unimaginable horror and who couldn’t shake the image from his mind and, despite all he’d done to us, I felt moved to ask him what had brought him to this.

He laughed bitterly and said that it was himself. Then he told us he was sorry.

I found it hard to believe these words were coming out of the mouth of the great Angelus, Scourge of Europe, but I could see he was nothing, if not sincere. And there was pain in his eyes as I’ve never seen before.

Spike lost his temper at this point and pushed him roughly against the wall, asking him what the hell he wanted from us and Angelus simply said that it was our forgiveness.

Spike was quite distressed at this point and demanded to know what sick game Angelus was playing with us now, but I stopped him and pulled him back again, and not just because people were staring now as they passed by, mildly interested in what must have looked like a pub-brawl about to start.

I asked Angelus what had happened to him and he looked me straight in the eye and told me that he’d been cursed. Spike thought this hilariously funny until Angelus told us what he’d been cursed with.

We never saw him again. He turned and walked out of our lives, without our forgiveness, although looking back on it now, I wish I’d been able to say those words. I was left standing alone that night, contemplating a world in which there was now a vampire with a soul. I’d always truly thought that it would be Spike if it was to happen at all, but that wasn’t to be.

Spike took off looking as stricken as I’d seen him in a long while. And all I could do was wait for him to come home. I had no words of solace for him at the injustice of what had happened so I made love to him instead. And afterwards, when he was a little more rational, I told him it was a good thing. No matter that he wasn’t the first, that wasn’t what was important. What was, was the fact that it could happen at all. And if it could happen to Angelus, then how much more likely was it for someone who was actively seeking their soul?

I don’t think he was convinced by my words, but they were all the comfort that I had to offer. Poor Spike. He’s tried so hard that I can see why he would want to give up at this point. When it seems that everything he’s worked for has been given to someone who didn’t do a thing for it. Spike can’t see that it’s not that straight forward. That Angelus has only just started to earn his, and it comes at great cost.

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Spike

How can this be fair? I’ve tried, I really have and no one could have asked more of me. To have it rubbed in my face like this makes me feel hollow inside. I really thought God was watching me, that there was some sort of hope.

What a fool I was. It seems now that souls are ten-a-penny and even the vilest creatures on God’s earth deserve one more than I do.

I came so close to killing again that night, but luckily, I came to my senses and went home instead. To her. And back to my purpose with more resolve now, than I’d ever had.

If Angelus could get a soul, then I sure as hell could. I was determined to prove that.

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Spike

I sometimes wonder if I’d ever have found such happiness if I’d remained human. William would possibly have managed to get himself married, eventually, but I think it would have always been a compromise. He set his sights so high that he was bound to be disappointed with who he ended up. Disappointed, but possibly not surprised. Life would have been the inevitable acceptance of second-best and he would have lived it and then died.

As Spike, William suddenly found he didn’t have a care in the world. Everything he wanted he just took, but funnily enough that didn’t lead to contentment either, although one would have thought it should. It’s hard to care about things that come to you too easily and one of the things I’ve learned from being with Buffy is that the things you have to fight for become far more precious than those that just fall into your lap.

Today we celebrated the birthday where Buffy became the same age as me. I shouldn’t use the word celebrated because this inevitable turning of the tide brings me no joy, yet I put those thoughts firmly aside. I bought her a silver locket, for which we painted each other a picture and when the sun had set, we walked up the hill to Arthur’s seat and looked at the view. I came over all poetic and started spouting some rubbish or other, and then, right in the middle of it Buffy suddenly turned to me and asked me in a clear, un-shaking voice, to make her into a vampire.

I nearly fell over from the shock of her words and at the seriousness I saw in her face. I always knew that if it came to this it would have to come completely from her with no interference or pressure from me, and my demon jumped for joy that it had got its heart’s desire at last.

She cried so hard when I told her no. I knew deep-down that it wasn’t what she really wanted. That it was just a moment’s panic and something that we would both bitterly regret. I’m not sure what she was crying the most at. The fact that she’d asked me, or that I’d had the strength to say no. Life has, for me, been a series of tests and this one has been the hardest so far. If I am walking a path of redemption, as she continually tells me that I am, then this hopefully, is one more step along the way.

I’d love to keep her with me in this life forever, but now, finally, I’ve accepted that it won’t be possible. And, hard though it will be, I think I can live with that.

I still foolishly dream of meeting her again in the afterlife, but to do that she’s going to have to keep hold of her soul. And I’m going to have to find mine.

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Buffy

If I said I didn’t know what possessed me when I asked him to turn me, I’d be lying. A feeling of such panic built up as I looked at him tonight that my rational mind completely deserted me. No-one likes getting older, but for me this birthday was too much of a milestone and for one brief moment I thought it worth every risk to be with him forever.

Thank God he refused. The demon was so close to it and I don’t know where Spike found the strength to hold him back. Then he reminded me what we’ve spoken of many times. That if there’s be any chance of us finding each other after death then we both have to prove ourselves worthy.

Times like these give me hope though. He has such potential and I know that one day he will realise the full extent of it. Tonight I saw a person who was strong and steadfast. Someone who did what he knew was right, not what would give him the most happiness. I saw sacrifice, and above all, I saw love. More than I’ve ever deserved, but for which I am eternally grateful.

I used to worry about him so much. About how he’d be and what he’d do after I’d gone, but I don’t any more. With each year that passes I’m finding that I need to hold his hand less tightly and that the road before us is becoming brighter and brighter.

There’s a place he needs to be, way off in the distance, and my heart swells with pride when I see how determinedly Spike walks towards it.

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But what of poor, gentle William? He won’t be forgotten in all of this.

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Buffy

There’s a small church at the bottom of the hill where I go whenever I feel the need to pray. Old habits die hard and I still find it easier to feel God’s presence when I’m in His House. No matter that it’s completely the wrong denomination and no doubt that my father would have a blue fit at the thought of me worshipping in a Catholic Church. But for me, those sort of concerns are trivial matters for people who don’t have anything important enough to worry about.

The priest has never spoken to me, although I’ve seen him watching on many an occasion, perhaps sensing that I’d prefer to be left alone. Today however, he seemed to know that I needed wise counsel and, as I stopped to light a candle at the small shrine in the entrance, he approached me and wished me a good day. I returned the sentiment and for a moment there was an awkward pause. Then he drew my attention to the new stained-glass window above the door and asked what I thought of it. I told him that the workmanship was wonderful and that it was a great asset to the church, but he asked me to look again, so I did.

He said one more thing before leaving me to look more closely.

I spent a long time looking at the beautifully arranged glass in the window. The message was clear and filled in the remaining gaps of this complicated puzzle that is my life. I walk in two worlds, and I’ve seen things that people wouldn’t begin to comprehend, but in all of it it’s perhaps the simplest things that have had the most impact.

Like the picture of the shepherd bringing home the lost sheep. Without words, it told me something I desperately needed confirming. And something that I’ve never forgotten.

Spike was waiting for me when I left. Lurking by the gate and smoking a cigarette. He never comes too near, although I’m sure nothing terrible would happen to him if he did. He produced a bunch of flowers which he assured me he hadn’t stolen from one of the graves and then he took my arm and we strolled into town. Afterwards, we returned home and he took me in is arms and held me for a long while before taking me to bed.

I love them all, but sometimes he’s the perfect blend of William and the Demon, something that’s happening more and more as time goes by. And that’s how it should be.

This story is one of a man who died, but was given a reason to live again. I like to think that reason was me, but somehow I think not. I’m just here to steer him towards a higher purpose, which I believe more and more will be something spectacular.

I may not live to see it in this life, but wherever I end up, I’ll be watching, and I’ll be waiting for him. Because I think that one day, Spike is going to truly surprise us all.

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Spike

I must have seen your face a million times in the last sixty years as I continued to fight the good fight and watched the world change, without you.

But it was only ever leading to one place.

People did a lot of crazy things for the turn of the millennium.

I went and finally won back my soul.

The End

Thank you everyone for reading this story and for taking the trouble to leave reviews.

I toyed with various endings to the Spike pov, but liked this one best. Didn't feel it needed explaining how Spike got his soul as we all know... Hope you liked it too. I'm off to finish Something Worth Fighting For next. Bye for now
candy/moxie xxx

One Step Beyond fiction by candyknicks at
http://candy.karma-hotel.net