Chapter 1

Africa

Spike pushed the tent flap and stepped through the opening. The black sky was littered with bright stars, allowing even a mere mortal to walk the desert safely. Hearing his knee joint crack, he stopped. Time to remove all the kinks from his beaten body. Slowly, his body cracked from head to toe, his bones and cartilage happy to realign. The villagers whispered and hid in their tents as his demon emerged, happy with the scent on fear permeating the warm air. Nodding towards the shaman that helped heal him, the vampire stepped past the tent and into the shadows. It was time to leave.

The journey wasn’t as hellacious as he thought it would be, wasn’t as bad as what he already endured. Slowly, he made the journey from the tiny village in the middle of the desert back to the coast. Africa was ripe with demons, allowing him safe journey during the sun’s hours, hiding in caves and villages. His deep bruises and grotesque wounds disguised his identity for the most part. His hair no longer perfectly bleached but now only blond-tipped with dark roots. No hair gel available to tame his wild curls, he was stuck with his two-toned, riotous hair falling on his forehead and into his line of sight.

Slowly, but surely, his body continued to mend from the traumatic trials it was put through as he traveled. The blood of camel was disgusting. It tasted like sand and smelled of dung. He feasted on a rare goat from time to time, but was regulated to camel for the most part. The human villages held no pull for him, never again. Whispers of past atrocities filtered in his brain, haunting the man that was no longer.

No longer

No longer human, no longer demon.

That demon fucked him royally with the soul. He wanted to become the man Buffy deserved, give it to her good. Show her that the Big Bad still lived and that love could never tame him. The plan was simple a’la Angelus. Take away the support system. The Watcher first. He’d tie the obnoxious countryman in the tub and carefully drain him. Slowly. Next came the whelp. The disgusting whelp that never said a nice thing about him. He’d make the twerp watch his friends all die. The two witches. Regrettable, he’d have to take Glinda, the only one worth saving for the greater good. Red was no problem. She was in the same category as the whelp. Nothing but obstacles, riding the coattails of the Slayer. He didn’t want to harm Dawn. He’d get her to come to him, maybe turn her if he had to. He knew that the girl wouldn’t be the same, but to have Buffy…Buffy. She’d come willingly if he had her sister. And, she would pay for her insolence. Pay dearly, she would. Her blood would be the price for her crimes.

No, no… that wasn’t right. No harming her. Don’t hurt the girl. Oh, God, he hurt the girl. Her eyes haunted him, accusing him. Swirling greens and browns clouded with hate. The scent of her tears weighed heavily on his senses. Her cries echoed in his ears. The taste, her touch… burned.

He burned from the inside. Sharp pains struck along his heart, his soul. He had a soul. His soul. The soul of a poet he thought dead. No longer prose of love and beauty danced in his head. Violence and blood over took his psyche. Hatred and pain painting the canvas of his brain, obliterating his memory of light and love.

Thu-ump

Thu-ump

Humans were near. Their pumping of their blood echoed in his ears, the scent of their heated bodies called to him. Turning his head away, Spike lit the last of his cigarettes. Soon he’d have to head towards civilization to get his tobacco fix. Maybe he’d roll his own again; he would be able to stay away from humans if he could get a good supply of papers and leaves. Wouldn’t have to worry about being spiced with a different kind of leaf and his demon taking over in the haze creating irreversible damage.

His demon could no longer rule; that was apparent. The demon’s wants were no longer his concern. It was buried beneath the rubble of pain. He could feel it though, digging through and shifting around just under the surface. Angry at the destruction of his freedom. No longer just neutered by silicon and electricity, but now by a conscience that would never leave. A reminder of his selfish and weak days.

He didn’t belong in the demon society; that ship had sailed a long time ago. The lure of humans revolted him now, their blood no better than day old horse shit. He belonged no where and he was no one without her.

~*~*~

“Thank you for coming along, you didn’t have to.” Buffy hugged Clem, the wrinkled demon.

Awkwardly patting her on the back, he stepped away. “No problem, Slayer. I told you I would have your back.” His kind smile almost ruined by his sharp teeth.

“I didn’t think you meant all the way to Africa.”

“Look,” Clem stuttered, “no one else was around and you needed someone to watch your back. I’m sorry I can’t go any further.” The unspoken implication that Spike asked him to watch for her while he was gone laid heavy in the air.

Buffy nodded and stepped away, the authorities in Casablanca’s airport were watching the human and the demon interact with avid curiosity. Why a Slayer would be openly comfortable with a demon was beyond them, it was a strange sight. Unfortunately the ride she arranged the rest of the way was not demon-friendly, leaving Clem alone in a strange land.

“I better go.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry that you came all this way and we can’t find a way for us both to go.” He helped her through customs and kept her company on the plane. Truly, he was there for her when no one else was willing.

“Hey, it’s all right, Slayer. I’ve always wanted to know what Moroccan’s use for snacks. Do you think they have Ghoriba in the Seven Eleven… do they even have a Seven Eleven?”

Laughing, Buffy grabbed her satchel and headed to the jeep that would be her ride down into Algeria. Thanks to Giles’ connections, she’s to meet a caravan that would bring her through the Sahara Desert.

How the heck did she get here? Buffy thought. Dawn.

Actually, it wasn’t Dawn’s fault that she was kidnapped halfway across the Earth by a crazed ex-Hell God back from the great beyond. It was Buffy’s. No, strike that. It was Willow’s fault. And if she was assigning blame Tara, Anya and Xander had to be included. This mess started over a year ago when they decided to rip her from heaven and insert her into this hell. Magic always has consequences. At first, they thought the consequence of bringing her back to life was Thaumogenesis demon, a hitchhiker from the other world. Creating life where no life existed caused an imbalance, creating a ghost-like demon haunting the gang and ultimately trying to take back Buffy’s life so it could exist.

If that were the only consequence!

It took a while to come to terms from last year. It started with Spike being able to cause harm to her. Tara claimed her whole being was ‘sunburned’ but it was more than that. Death had a way of changing everything. It awoke a part of the Slayer DNA, changing her into something more than human. Something less than human? Semantics when everything was boiled down. She was different, her soul was different and everything around her was different.

No one suspected that evil was lurking right under their noses before it was too late. Buffy’s reanimation brought about the possibility of brining Glory back. Her demonic minions scurried underground for months, caring for a broken Glorificus. Only this time, Glory didn’t have a curse of being part human… she was all bitch, all the time.

The opening of the new high school on the same site of the old high school should have been a clue that not everything was right in Sunnydale. Strange things started to happen. The creepy principal kept showing up places the two sisters were. Dawn swore she was being stalked by some unknown shadow. Nothing was adding up. Then it happened. Glory made her presence known and took Dawn.

It shouldn’t have surprised Buffy that the gang was no longer behind her. Willow was in magic rehab with Giles in England, Xander was still trying to figure out what to do with his life and Anya was a Vengeance Demon once again. With Tara dead and too many apocalypses under their belt, the whole Scooby Gang disbanded, leaving Buffy to deal with Dawn and her disappearance alone.

Enter Clem. Looking back, Buffy didn’t know when he became more than a friendly demon and became a friend. At first, Buffy went to the crypt almost everyday looking for Spike only to find him. He was a good listener, she found out. Allowing her to talk out her frustrations with the missing vampire, her feelings and her healing. Months later, she went to crypt to see Clem. He helped her deal with her issues of being back, of dealing with being a single parent, yet still a sister, to Dawn. Through those months she searched her soul for answers as to why Spike tried what he tried.

In the end, she can’t lay total blame at the vampire’s feet. She forgot his nature, his past, underestimated his capability and pushed him beyond his limits. What choice did she give a desperate man? She pushed and pushed him, abusing his loyalty by twisting his feelings into some sick perversion of a relationship. She called all the shots, telling him when, where and how long, never considering his feelings only to rip it away with no real reason. She hid him like a dirty secret, using his body while he tried to give her what she wanted...what she needed. He was the only person that bothered to pay attention to her, and she threw him away like he meant nothing.

And, now he's gone. He disappeared that fateful night, abandoning his crypt and meager belongings. Clem tried to reassure her and Dawn, claiming he needed time, but she knew better. He left her, just like all the others. Her misdeeds and insufficiencies weren't such a secret this time around; she knew what she did, what she drove their relationship to.



TBC......

Chapter 2

Solitary confinement is what the politically correct term is. When you are too dangerous to everyone else, the proverbial man locked you away. The only thing different was no man locked Spike away and no man was coming for him. No man. Only a demonic beast with loyalty that ran thick in his veins would disturb a sleeping vampire in a foreign country.

“Spike?” Clem’s inquisitive voice echoed in the empty basement apartment.

Blinking, Spike rolled over in his bed and squinted towards the door.

“Clem?” His voice sounded like gravel from lack of use. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey buddy, miss me?” The larger demon stepped through and closed the front door. He looked around the one room dwelling and moved towards the kitchen. “I’m starved, got anything spicy?”

Shaking his head and sitting up, Spike watched his old friend search through the meager kitchen in hopes of finding a snack. “What are you doing?”

“I’m hungry,” the wrinkled demon reiterated.

“I mean here, as in my apartment, in Morocco?”

“Oh,” he stopped his search for a treat and stepped towards the bed. “Funny story that is. See, I dropped the Slayer off at the airport. I went to the local bar for some kittens… I mean cards.” If Clem could blush, he would with his mistaken wording. “I was playing cards with these other… friends and they mentioned that there was a half- crazed, blond vampire that kept to himself, blood bagged it and wouldn’t come into civilization. I thought… hey, wonder if that’s Spike. And, here I am!”

“What?” Spike paused and shook his head once more. “You dropped off the Slayer?”

“Oh, yeah. Please don’t tell Buffy that I was playing for kitten’s again. She’ll make me buy another litter box. I don’t want another litter box. Three is plenty! I have to clean them everyday or Spuffy, Spangel and Spawn won’t use them! I hope that Willy comes everyday to clean them, but you never know what’s going to happen when you are away. Truthfully, I don’t trust the weasel, but Buffy assured me that Willy would take care of them.”

“Slow down,” Spike interrupted. “You dropped the Slayer off why again?”

“Oh, to find Dawn, of course.”

“Dawn? What’s with Dawn?” Spike felt his breath catch in his throat. Dawn was in trouble, of course. And, Buffy was on the same continent as him.

“I forgot that, didn’t I? Oh, three weeks ago, Glory broke into the crypt while we were having a Mexican night, ripped off her sombrero and took Dawn! She totally ripped it apart, can you believe that?”

Confused, Spike rubbed his eyes. “The sombrero?”

“Yes.” Clem nodded in agreement and smiled. He opened the refrigerator only to find bags of blood.

“Glory’s back?” Spike prodded again.

“Yes.”

“When did this happen?” Spike watched Clem walk back towards the living area.

“I told you, three weeks ago. Anyway, Glory took Dawn and told Buffy to come get her at a certain time and a certain place. Something about the autumnal equinox. She took off and now Buffy is hot on her trail.”

“I’m missing something. The Hell-Bitch is dead. I saw…”

“Was, actually. Just like Buffy. As in the past tense. She’s back.”

“What’s the whole hubbub? Just kill the Dr. Wanker the Hell-Bitch turns into and get Dawn back.”

“Ah, there’s the problem. The reincarnation spell only brought back Glory, no Dr. Wanker.”

“Bloody hell!”

“That’s what Giles said when Buffy called him. We’ve been tracking and trying to figure out what is going on for the past few weeks.”

“Can’t you just un-magic what was magicked? Someone must have played with a spell to bring her back. I’ve got an idea or two of who’s strong enough and stupid…”

“Unfortunately, we can’t undo Glory without… undoing Buffy. They are linked. Ying and yang. Black and white. Smeagol and Golum. Chunky and smooth. Sweet and Salty. One doesn’t exist without the other.”

Sitting back, Spike contemplated Clem’s words. “So where’s the gang? I assume they would be right behind her, tracking every move, every nuance.”

“Not this time, they aren’t coming.”

“So she’s off looking for the Hell-Bitch and Dawn, alone?”

“Yep. The Watcher’s Council didn’t think that she should travel with me… being…”

“A demon?” Spike shook his head. The Council of Watcher were stupid cows, taking away Buffy’s only back up.

“Yeah… so they arranged for her to go with these… people. They are supposed to take her across the desert.”

“But you brought her here?”

“Well, yeah. I mean…. I like Buffy and all, but she isn’t the best when it comes to international relations. She probably would have set off world war three if she had to travel across the ocean by herself. Not to mention everyone looking down at a single woman traveling alone. She needed someone. I was available… so, here I am.”

“She’s all alone, traveling the desert? Why didn’t she just fly into where…ever she needs to be?”

“According to the coven in L.A., Glory is on the move. Buffy hopes that she can find her before the ritual, you know; fight Glory before she’s ready. Bring the war to her. Something with the upper hand.”

“Sounds like good strategy.”

“Problem is the equinox is approaching and Glory is settling down some where south of the Sahara. One moment she was in southern Morocco and now she’s in Nigeria or something. I wasn’t paying attention to the whole thing…”

~*~*~

Stupid men

Buffy lifted her pack from the thrashed jeep. After the bleak desert, she was happy that she was at the edge of Tamanghasset, Algeria, especially now she was alone with no mode of transportation. Filled with something other than sand this oasis was heaven sent. Crossing the Sahara seemed too easy at first; Buffy should have known that something was lurking in the shadows of life.

The crack team of supposed-demon-hunters Giles assembled were a joke in Buffy’s opinion. They didn’t even notice the Harenariabelua start to emerge from the sand before it was too late. Luckily, she was prying off goggles and bandana while looking at the ground when she noticed a small vortex start to swirl the sand. The men that surrounded her didn’t want to listen to her warnings before they stepped out of the vehicle and into the Sand Beast’s jaws.

She told them that stopping at the edge of the city, still far away from civilization, was a bad idea. But, no, they couldn’t listen to a woman. Forget that she’s the Slayer!

Stupid men

So with a quick jump from the vehicle and a quick run to a well placed palm tree, she was safe. The beast spent its energy on the men that were too stupid to run from its jaws, finally sated and returned to underground. Buffy carefully walked to the crumbled jeep and retrieved her pack and weapons. Barely a mile from the town’s gates, she started her trek. She’d have to find another ride to Agadez, Niger where she was suppose to meet with a shaman that would guide her the rest of the way.

~*~*~

Clem settled down on the floor next to Spike. His friend wasn’t looking too good. He looked sick. His eyes were yellowed, but not demon yellow… something less. His skin was ashen gray, the remnants of his arteries and veins visible through the layer or tissue. He looked skeletal, starved. His movements were jerky at best as if he hadn’t moved in a long time.

“How long have you been holed up here?” Clem asked quietly as Spike lit a hand rolled cigarette.

“Few months,” his voice cracked.

“When was the last time you left the apartment?” Clem looked around, not even a television or stack of books.

Spike’s eyes seemed to glow with unknown anger and mumbled, “Since I first stepped in. Don’t rightly like to be around society anymore. Just stick to myself. Safer that way.”

“Spike,” Clem paused for a minute and then proceeded. “What happened?”

“Nothing, really.” His eyes avoided Clem’s as he stood. “Saw a demon, got what I wanted and that’s that.”

“Call me crazy, buddy, but I thought you wanted the Slayer?”

“Call me crazy, buddy, too.” He moved to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Clem followed Spike, intent on figuring out what was happening.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “Just don't feel very sociable. Thanks for stopping bye; don't let the door hit you on the way out.”

“What's gotten into you?” Clem asked incredibly. With the vampire's questioning gaze, he continued, “You aren't the same guy you were in Sunnydale...” His voice trailed off. “As if something changed. What did you get that you wanted?”

“Leave it and leave me!”

“I see it now. I don't know why I missed it before. You need to go tell Buffy.”

“Bird doesn't want to hear from the likes of me,” his voice was soft and pitiful. “She's got a lot more on her plate than a vampire stalker. She's better off without me.”

“How can you say that? Didn't you hear anything I told you? She has no backup, she's on her own. She needs someone to watch her back.”

“You said it yourself, she's got issues. She doesn't need me to add to them.”

Rolling his eyes, Clem shook his head at Spike. “Yeah, and she's worked a lot of those issues out. She misses you!”

“She misses someone that she could walk over more like it.” Spike denied.

“No, she missed you. I could see it in her eyes. She realized what you were trying to do...”

“You mean when I tried to rape her? Yeah, I know what I was trying to do, too.”

“You're different now.”

“Doesn't erase the past!”

“And, if she doesn't get to Dawn in time, what kind of future does she have?”


a/n: anyone interested in me finishing Hidden Secrets?

Chapter 3

The shaman was a short man, much shorter than Buffy. He wore a caftan of bright colors, with necklaces of bone and trinkets. His gray hair was wickedly out of control and twisted into braids. He clicked his tongue and motioned for her to follow him. From her understanding, he was the oldest member of his tribe with 17 wives and 34 children. He practiced something more than medicine, something more than magic. He felt dark and powerful to Buffy.

“So how we going to get there?” She questioned while he sat in front of the fire.

His first wife came and served him something in a hollowed gourd. He drank deep and passed it to her. She looked down and saw a thick, red liquid inside. He grunted at her and lifted his hands as if he was taking another sip. Slowly, she raised the gourd and took a sip.

“Bleah!” She quickly put the gourd down and wiped her mouth. “That's blood!”

“Life!” his gravely voice instructed her. “Around us. Must become one.”

“Look, I respect that you have to go through all that mumbo-jumbo, but I'm not drinking that again.”

“Life!” His voice became louder. “Around us. Is world. Become one before journey of enlightenment.”

“I'm just trying to get to Maiduguri and rescue my sister.”

“Patience, girl. Become one and we journey.” He reached for a satchel behind him.

“There is no time!” Buffy shook her head and added slowly. “I need to save my sister.”

“You need to become one!” He insisted. He withdrew blue powder from the satchel and threw it in the fire. “Future not written. Be changed. So the key.”

“The Key? What do you mean about the Key? She's going to be changed? I'm not going to save her?”

“No, no.” he muttered. “Patience girl. Drink,” he encouraged. “Drink and find destiny.”

“I know my destiny,” she replied coldly. “My destiny is to fight. My destiny is to die.”

“Wrong!” He took another satchel and dumped some herbs in his hand. He grabbed the gourd and dumped them into it. “Drink. Only destiny life.”

“My destiny is to live?”

“Destiny is life. Must reconcile with Father Earth.”

“I'm tired of you talking in riddles. What do you mean?”

He calmly poured the gourd over the fire, cause a blue flame to dance about two feet above the normal flames. “Fire, water, wind, earth. Life and death one. You one. Must reconcile yourself, save sister Key.”

The blue flame started to twist and turn, images appearing in it. Her mother's face morphed into her father's morphing into hers. She watched as it twisted into Dawn's innocent face and then twisting into Glory's. Faces of her friends and enemies morphed, with no rhyme or reason. With a flash, the images moved quicker. Angel morphed into Spike and then back to Angel. She watched the toggle between the two vampires before the flame grew to double its size, ending with Spike crying out in pain. His eyes glowed and his faced morphed into his demon’s. Taken aback as the flame suddenly died, she turned to the shaman.

“What was that?”

“Desitny,” he answered as if it was obvious.

“I played your games; do you think we can go find my sister now?”

Shaking his head, the shaman called for his head wife. She brought him another gourd filled with a yellow mixture. As she walked away, smiling timidly at Buffy.

“You and life, not one. Must reconcile past for future.”

Frustrated, Buffy shook her head. “There is no time. If you aren't going to help me, I should just be going.”

She stood and dusted her pants. Glancing around the small camp she watched as children clung to their mothers, their dark eyes watching her.

“Girl-y,” his gravel voice intoned. “Sit down. You not ready for journey.”

“I don't need a journey to enlightenment. I need to save my sister!”

Silence descended them, both figures appraising the other. After three minutes, the shaman nodded his head. Sighing in relief, Buffy nodded back to the shaman.

~*~*~

This is not what she had in mind.

The camel bucked once more as she fought to control the animal. The shaman kept looking back at her with laughter in his eyes. She wanted to throttle the measly man, only if she didn't need him. He turned forward once again, his head noticeably shaking. They were traveling in a caravan of six camels and riders. Most of the men didn't speak English, instead communicated with their native tribal languages and something that reminded her of French, dismissing Buffy from their conversations.

They'd been traveling for four days and something felt wrong. She felt like something was watching her, something that felt familiar, yet not. It started about 50 hours ago when the crossed the border into Nigeria. Something was stalking them, more importantly her.

The heat of the day caused the caravan to seek shelter, using tents and what little natural resources they found. They found few villages to stay during the day, a safer choice when the threat of theft and murder while everyone was resting were possible. Trips between villages and tribes were long and very boring. The tribal leaders always looked upon Buffy with a keen eye, their discussions obviously about the foreign, blonde haired woman infiltrating their families. Consequently she was stuck in a tent or hut, not allowed to talk to anyone outside the shaman.

The light of a village became visible as the caravan neared. Sunrise was in an hour, the most obvious choice was to seek shelter within the village. The caravan seemed to move faster towards the day's salvation, leaving Buffy to fight with her camel. She was sure they gave her a misogynist camel; it refused to heed her commands.

The village’s Council of Elders met them before they reached the outskirts of the village, their leader talked to the shaman, making accommodations and trades for their stay. Warriors stood behind the leader as they communicated, their eyes appraising the caravan. One licked his lips as he stared at Buffy, another winked.

Uhg, men!

A deal was reached and the council led them into the village. Food and water were freely offered, as were a bed in one of the elder's huts. Buffy thankfully dismounted her hateful camel and stretched. She felt those eyes on her once again. She quickly stepped inside the hut and away from the strange feeling.

~*~*~

Late afternoon, heat engulfed the tiny room Buffy slept in. Even the ground seemed to radiate heat to her palette. Sweat seemed to pour from her, she just could not sleep. She stretched and looked around at the tiny room, marveling that they didn't need much to survive. No MTV, no PlayStation, no high speed internet. Not even a fridge to cool soda or bottled water.

She stepped outside and looked around the village. Women hovered around fires and tended to their children as they went about their daily chores. Few women made eye contact with her, leaving Buffy alone with her thoughts.

She walked around the fire and noticed the huts were lined up like a typical American Main Street. She followed the line of huts and noticed another “street” just a few huts away. She turned and explored the village that offered them refuge. Suddenly, she felt eyes on her once again, not familiar like before. The sun’s rays were weakening as it made its journey below the horizon. The unbearable heat would soon leave and with it, she would too.

Looking around, she realized she was alone, no happy families sitting in the shade of the huts or tending to the daily chores. Pots holding dinner simmered and children whined that they were hungry. Turing back, she found her path blocked by one of the warriors that met the caravan.

Shit!

She turned to run between the huts in hopes of getting back to the main area, when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. With a tug, it held her still as the warrior started to approach her. She looked over her shoulder and found the other warrior. His black eyes were filled with lust and his lips puckered.

“Let go of me,” she ordered. She really didn’t want to show these men her power.

The warrior holding her used his other hand to touch her hair. Gasping, she tried unsuccessfully to pull away. She muttered a curse and this time used her small stature as a weapon. Falling to the ground, she tried to break his grip. He stumbled, but did not let go.

“I’m warning you, you don’t know who I am, what I am.” She struggled as she felt the other man approach them. His hand reached out and ran down her neck to her breast. “Let me go,” she pleaded, suddenly feeling helpless.

The warrior holding her brought her body against his, rubbing against her. She cursed once again and shifted away. She no longer cared if she insulted the village; she was not going to be raped!

Calling to her inner strength, she threw her head back, hitting her captor’s nose hard. His gripped loosened before the other man realized and she bolted. With a fist and a well placed kick, she broke free of them both and started to make her way towards the shaman. They needed to leave, now.

Preoccupied with her path, she didn’t hear the two warriors recover and follow her. Without the light of the sun, she forgot how she got to the more derelict area. Twisting and turning, she lost her way, ending up at the edge of the village; the men surrounded her once more.

Stepping away, she warned them once again to stay away, but neither listened. She was grabbed once more, a thick arm wrapped around her neck, breaking her freedom of movement. The other man spoke in his native tongue and her captor grunted with agreement. She tried to kick, but she was being held too tight.

She watched as the other man approach, his arms flexing with power. He spoke to her once more, but she didn’t know what he was saying. She watched his fist form and fly towards her. She wanted to duck, wanted to prepare herself for it, but couldn’t. Another fist and then another. Her captor held her close as she struggled to fight back. The other man rubbed his crotch, his intent obvious.

“No, no!” she screamed in hopes that someone would hear her, that she wasn’t too far away. But, she knew that with the song of the wives and the playful screams of the children around the fires, no one would hear her, no one would be saving her.

Her captor put his hand around her mouth, holding her screams in as his arm tightened around her neck. The other man released his erection and started to move towards her, his hands ready to divest of her clothes. Searching for something, some way to save herself as air was quickly becoming an issue, the last thing Buffy heard was a roar.

Chapter 4

She hadn’t seen any lions in the Sahara nor bears. Where the hell did that roar come from?

Her throat hurt, it was dry and felt like someone squeezed the life from her. Carefully, she tried to feel every bone in her body, stretch her conscience without moving. She felt something at her side, heard a shuffle and then silence. She wasn’t safe yet, something was there, next to her and she had no idea what just happened.

She hadn't been raped; her body plainly told her that. Not to say that she wasn’t injured, her body was definitely injured. Cool, she felt cool. She wasn’t plagued by the constant heat that seemed to surround her day and night. She was cool and the air was… moist. Where the hell was she?

More shuffling to her left. She felt a familiar presence, something that she never thought that she would feel again.

“Spike,” her lips barely whispered.

“Is all right, Slayer. You’re safe.” His voice sounded so distant, different.

She pried her eyes open, where ever she was, it was dark, no glaring lights, no hot fire. Moving her head towards the sound of her vampire moving around. Wait, when did he become her anything?

“What,” her voice failed. She paused and tried again, “what happened?”

He moved quickly to her side with a pan of water. “Here, drink.” She nodded in thanks and moved her lips along the rim of the pan, gently sipping at it. “Is not the best, but it’s safe and you lost a lot of blood.”

He watched as she greedily accepted his offering. His soul wept. He was almost too late, almost couldn’t save her. He wasn’t good enough, not then and not now. He couldn’t even save her when he knew they were going to attack her.

“Why?” She questioned as she laid down, her eyes closed again.

“Tried to get there in time, they got you good,” his voice sounded so soft, so apologetic. She opened her eyes and watched him put the pan of water down.

He looked different… something had changed. His bleached hair curled on top of his head, a definitely improvement in her opinion. His lip looked busted as if he took a punch to his mouth, bruises and scraps littered the rest of his visible body. He definitel fought recently.

“But don’t worry; they won’t be coming for you.” Her eyebrows rose with question. “I didn’t kill them… but they won’t be doing a lot of things.” She coughed, her body protesting at each spasm. “Shit! What the fuck did they think they were doing? Practically choked the life out of ya… Bastards!”

Lying down, Buffy slightly smiled and rested her hand on his. He was a sight for her sore eyes, despite everything. She missed him with an intensity she never thought herself capable of. She tried searching for him, trying to correct what went wrong, but she kept running into dead ends. With a partially broken voice, “How you here?”

Shocked, Spike stared at her hand so innocently touching him. Moving away and losing her touch was one of the hardest things that he had to do. He craved her touch. Clearing his throat, he started, “Clem, he tracked me down.”

Nodding, Buffy closed her eyes once more. “It hurts.”

Clem, she knew that wrinkled demon jumped on the ‘Let’s go to Africa place’ too quickly. Sure, they were friends, she protected him when he was caught cheating at poker, despite the kitten currency he insisted on using. He kept her company during the long nights when she would feel the pain of losing… heaven.

“I know, Slayer, but hold on a little while longer. Got me a medicine man on his way. Should fix you up just right.”

Shaking her head, “Shaman from village. Traveling with. Get him.”

He glanced at her open eyes and took pity on her. “Shaman won’t be of any help. He traded you. Heard it myself.”

“What?” Her heart rate increased. “No, you misunderstood. Got it wrong.”

“Vampire hearing, remember?” He shuffled around and brought the pan of water back to her lips. “I might not be up on all the languages but I do know what femme and salope mean.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He was all journey. Made me drink… and the fire faces.”

“I’m sorry, Slayer,” Spike was truly apologetic. “He told the men that you like it rough.”

In fact, both remember she did like it rough. She liked the small mementos of their passionate couplings. In her life, bruises meant that you survived, meant you lived another day. And, that’s all she was doing those months after her reincarnation. Everything was so dull, felt dead in her soul. She needed to feel… significant emotions and senses those first months, needed to feel anything other than dead.

Could that shaman have turned his back to her, offer her up as the sacrificial lamb? Cast her aside as payment when it was her journey to begin with? The journey… blood and fire. His journey.

“I don’t…” tears ran down her face as she realized Spike was telling the truth. “Betrayed,” her body shook with uncontrollable anger. How dare he!

“Shh,” his hand hovered over her hair, afraid to touch her. “You’ll be all right, you’ll see. Just a few bumps and bruises, be better by tomorrow.”

“Must get Dawn!”

“I know,” he nodded. “Sun’s almost down and we can head off to that village. Clem gave me the details.”

“Where did he find you?” She tried to sit.

Avoiding her gaze, he moved into the shadows. “The medicine man should be here at sundown and then we can start to move. You should rest. I’ll… sit over here,” and watch you.

“Spike.. where were you? What happened? Something is different.” She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about Spike changed. He didn’t carry his usual bravado; he seemed distant, so far away. This was not the Spike she knew.

He began to pace. “No time, Slayer. Got to get a-packing, ya’know. Time to get lil’ sis, then I’ll let you get back to Sunnyhell and you won’t have to hear from old Spike again.”

“Stop it,” she coughed. “You’re making me dizzy. Just… we’ve been looking for you, Dawn and me… where were you?” It was hard to believe that he was there, that he swooped in and saved her, finally succeeding where he'd failed in the past.

Dejected, Spike sat beside Buffy, his eyes cast down. “Saw a demon,” his eyes unwittingly filled with water as he continued. “Wanted to give you what you deserved, get the chip out and show you who I am.”

“And did you?” Oh God! I trusted you, please, please no!

“He granted my wish, yes.”

“And, what? You wanted to come back and torture me? You could have done that already, the chip didn’t work on me, remember, came back wrong?” She shook her head. Typical Spike, tie and torture until the woman he loved accepted him back. Didn’t he realize that he was enough? That torturing someone into love just didn’t work?

“No,” he whined. “Wanted to… show you that I wasn’t some serial killer in prison, I changed. And the bloody chip had nothing to do with that change. I didn’t have to be evil; I didn’t have to be ...”

Realization filtered across her face, with a gasp. What should she expect; he was a demon, a vampire, had no morals, no obligation to the side of good. She fooled herself that he'd fought on the side of good for something more than selfish reasons. It was always about him: safety, money and then her.

“It wasn’t like that,” he insisted, cursing himself for not explaining it right.

“So what changed? Why didn’t you come back, kill everyone that meant anything to me, take away my life? Why are you here helping me rescue Dawn?” His face contorted with pain and self-loathing. Something definitely was different.

“Arg, I didn’t say that! I wasn’t going to, not really. I just wanted to prove to you that I…” his voice trailed off, inhaling, he calmed. “I want to help find Dawn. She’s a good kid and just because that rot of Scoobies that insist on hanging around aren’t about, doesn’t mean you don’t need a bit of help.”

That didn’t change, even as enemies, he stood behind her and helped her when the going got tough. The truce during Angelus’ reign, the love spell debacle, even more so when he became chipped. He moved from fighting behind her to her side. He liked Dawn, genuinely liked her. He didn’t try and corrupt the innocent Key, even when given more than half the chance. That was an aspect she admired about him… his loyalty.

“You may have saved me from one rape, but that doesn’t mean that I forgive what you tried…” she wanted to stay angry. Wanted to hold on to that hatred, but she couldn’t. Despite everything, he was there at her side when no one else was.

Screaming, “I’m not asking for forgiveness, am I?” Again, he paused to calm his nerves. “There is nothing in this world that will change that night; is there? I don’t deserve forgiveness even if there was. I may have not done it that night, but there are plenty of other nights that… plenty of other innocent women that I took… The look in their eyes when they realized what was about to happen.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she denied his words. “I don’t want to hear the past!” She didn’t want him to alter her picture, as awful as it already was. She needed him to stay her ally, even in tarnished armor.

“You don’t?” he smirked. “Don’t want to hear what a monster you let into your life, your bed? Don’t want to know how much to drain a girl just so she would recover and I could feel the power again? Don’t want to hear about the innocent babes I trapped, tortured and destroyed?”

“What did you do?” Tears streamed down her face. Why was he telling her this? Offering his sins as evidence against him?

“I told you, I’m a monster. Won’t forget it, now,” he sneered.

“No,” she muttered. “There’s no problem of that.”

~*~*~

Buffy ignored Spike, she just couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t forget the look on his face when he talked about his past, about what he did, what he gloried in. His past leading up to the bathroom shouldn’t have been a surprise, should always remain on her mind, but she couldn’t hold the hatred she once had. He’s a monster, it’s true, but when given a chance, didn’t he try to do right by human morals? Going against his nature to live with humans, to be human, if only in his dreams?

Self-gratification was what his demon wanted. Blood, violence and sex. It didn’t crave companionship in the human sense, didn’t care if its actions affected anyone else. It wanted. It took. It had.

And, for a while, it had what it wanted, only to have it abruptly ripped away with canned explanation. Love

Did vampires love? In the human sense? They’re social creatures in the first place, forming families and clans, hunting together. They formed mating bonds that lasted for life, chose those mates carefully unlike humans that married easily knowing that divorce was just a few years away. But was that love? Was it enough?

Despite the disgusting things he did with his family, the things they taught him… he held onto the human part of himself, the poet that longed for love, longed for something more than just bodily delights of the demon. That part of him was the scariest part… it shone brightly from his eyes every time he would kiss her, would touch her. She closed her eyes to that part of him, took his passion into her body, but she couldn’t take that… couldn’t accept it.

~*~*~

The medicine man was really an old woman. She wrapped Buffy’s ribs and checked her neck for long-term damage. She muttered the whole time she examined Buffy. Spike stood in the shadows, watching; she knew he was watching, her being examined by this woman that muttered.

Once the all clear was issued, Spike led the way out of the cave to a waiting jeep. He watched as the medicine woman helped Buffy buckle into the front seat. “Journey not complete,” her mutters became audible. “Must reconcile life with death to become one.”

She stepped away as Buffy gasped. The shaman said something similar. Could this be the journey he was speaking of? Did he purposefully turn her over to the warrior men of that last village to ignite the start of whatever destiny he thought she had. She knew what her destiny was, what it would always be. Her gift was given and taken and will be once more. Death. The only life left for her was Dawn’s. Her life had to be held sacred above everything else. That was Buffy’s purpose, her destiny before death. .

But what if death was angry at her? Had she cheated the grim reaper? Not only once, but twice? Did the shaman mean that the grim reaper would come for her life, exchange it once more? Would he take her again, this time trapping her where she couldn’t escape? Not even the blackest of magic's could find her under the grim reaper’s cloak.

She looked at Spike in the moonlight. He looked like death. Was he her grim reaper, ready to collect the price of her gift? His eyes were dark, sunken into his sockets. Her head hurt from the riddles surrounding her. He jumped into the jeep and turned the ignition. “Next stop: Hell.”


tbc...

Chapter 5

The fever hit suddenly. One moment Buffy was fine, the next a cold sweat broke on her skin with a blue haze in her line of site. “Spike,” her soft plea almost unheard.

“Shit!” He stopped the jeep in time to catch her body falling to the side. Inhaling, he recognized the heavy scent of her blood, rapidly soaking through the bandages around her ribs. The night sky was turning lighter, the sun awakening.

Quickly, he found shelter in a nearby cave, once again sun resistant for his flame-prone skin. He quickly moved Buffy deep into the shelter and ran back to the jeep for supplies. He tried to hide the jeep before the sun started to make its ascent. Grabbing water and a blanket, he made his way to the shivering Buffy.

“Cold, so cold,” she muttered.

“I know, I know.” He helped her sit as he guided water to her mouth. “I think you’re dehydrated. Something is wrong with your ribs; I have to check it out.” He slowly rested her body against a rolled up blanket. He lifted her shirt to see the injuries, when she pushed him away.

“No,” she shook her head.

“I need to check what is going on, Slayer.” He once again lifted her shirt and probed the tender, blood soaked area.

“No, please, no. I’ll be a good girl,” she pleaded, her head thrown back. “Don’t. It hurts!” her scream echoed against the cave walls.

Her pants of breath haunted him, she was in pain. He should have known, should have smelled the blood sooner. He should have… done a lot of things differently. He carefully unwrapped her ribs and poured clean water around the wounds. Her ribs poked through her skin, why didn’t she say something?

The smell of her blood, Oh, fuck! It’s been so long, so very long, since he’d tasted human blood, let alone Slayer blood. Coppery and succulent. He could practically taste it, the scent rolling down his gullet to lay heavy in his gut. It would be so simple to lean down and taste her, taste her life and be closer to her.

She passed out once again, the pain too great. Carefully he moved the ribs back in place and wrapped her torso again. She moaned but allowed him to work on her. She was still sweating, a fever in full force.

“Come on, Buffy, you can do it,” he encouraged her as he wrapped a blanket around her. All he needed was for her to go into shock.

~*~*~

“Dawn,” she whispered. Spike watched her from his vantage point. “No, don’t say that.”

Her fever persisted, despite the fact that she was no longer bleeding. He sucked two blood bags he carried from the jeep, still cold from their frozen carrier. It didn’t sate the demon, though… it wanted human blood, wanted the Slayer… wanted Buffy not just for food.

Take her, it prodded. She’s just lying there, probably dying. She won’t notice any missing, she already bled. Give in to it. I won’t harm her, I promise. I want her, I love her. We could turn…

--No, you don’t know what love is!

Come on, you’re beginning to sound like her. I suppose you are going to say that love is staying away? Stop kidding yourself, Angel Jr.. She’ll forget about you. My way will teach her…

--I’m staying away because she doesn’t need another vampire laying the guilt of redemption at her feet. She’s better off without me.

“What choice did we give him?” Buffy muttered, her words slurred with her head tossing from side to side. “... pretended to care, to accept... took...”

Her breathing was harsh as she carried on her conversation. Her body was in so much pain, she was hallucinating.

“Suddenly different and didn’t know...”

Look at her, so helpless. She won’t fight, she can’t fight us. Give in to me, let me have her.

--She doesn’t deserve that, you know it. She’ll be fine. She’s stopped bleeding…

How do you know, won’t even breath through your nose, damn wanker. Afraid that you’ll give in to me.

--No, no, no! You don’t understand do you? No hurting her! No turning her. We love her.

Love her? You finally admit that I am capable of it? It’s beyond love. I want her. Eternity. Her blood, her body… writhing underneath. An equal on the battlefield.

--An equal in life!

*chuckling* She doesn’t love you, y’know. Give her to me and she will.

--Don’t you think I know she doesn’t love me? I’m a tool to her, just like a stake or sword.

You’re a tool alright, give her to me. We will….

--No, just let her be

Her breath hitched as she continued her conversation. “...pretended to care, don’t you see. I pushed... and pushed… took it all away from him.”

Her hand shook as it unconsciously wiped her forehead.

“I kept quiet, see? Shoved into a box... shut, no escape... used. Came to... feel better about myself.”

Her head thrashed from side to side as she fought the infection.

“Wanted to make.. better for me, make better for us…. No, no. Don’t understand. Didn’t want the dark. Wanted me to see, to know.”

Look at her, she’s out of her mind. Let me have her, just this once. I promise I won’t hurt her… much.

--No! She’s fighting for her life! Sick with fever!

Aren’t you listening to a word she’s saying?

“I ended... Couldn’t look him in the eyes. Pretend didn’t mean anything, he didn’t mean anything… couldn’t pretend…” her voice trailed off.

Hear that? You mean nothing to her. Allow me to take her out of your misery.

--You’re picking apart her words. She couldn’t pretend that I didn’t mean anything!

You’re just as delusional as Drusilla if you think she’s serious. It’s the fever! She doesn’t want you, not with the soul and not without.

--She doesn’t know about it!

What makes you think she doesn’t know? She is the Slayer after all. If you give her to me, I’ll share. We’ll have her…

-- No, shut up, shut up!

His head hurt again. Memories of the past flashing as the demon goaded him. Snippets of Drusilla and Darla laughing at the carnage he created, carved out with Angelus. His victims hoarse pleas of salvation as he drained their hope. His memories were grisly reminders of his sins.

Faces shifted and morphed as the demon taunted more, his blood lust rising with each and every flash. Growling, Spike closed his eyes and covered them with his hands.

- Bloody hell! I’m in my game face.

*chuckling* Someone’s hungry! All that fresh blood is going to waste.

-No, I’m not. Stop playing your games. I will not feed off her.

What’s one more on the record?

-I’m not hurting her

She won’t feel a thing! It’s not like it’s going to tip the scales between redemption and disgrace

- WE DON’T DO THAT ANYMORE!

Brooding puddle of wanker. I won’t even turn her, k? Just a taste.

-No, not even a taste.

COME ON!

Buffy’s moans became quieter as the fever broke and her body began to heal itself. Her lips were moving slowly, her brain still locked into her conversation. “Destroyed everything. Too late now… won’t even listen to me.”

He came forward, his hand hovering above her head. Slowly, he pushed her damp hair away from her face as she fought through the intense pain and pressure of healing herself. She was beautiful, despite the fever and pain etched on her face. Her sallow complexion abated as her natural golden glow returned. Her lips pursed and relaxed as she continued her hallucination inside her mind.

“How do I say I’ve changed? I care? There is no forgiveness.”

Forgiveness. There was no forgiveness for him. Nothing could erase the century of death and destruction that lay behind him. Nothing he could do would change it.

- Wait… Could it be? Could she have meant…?

Tears freely ran down his face as he comprehended what she said, what she meant.