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Part Seven: Schrödinger’s Cat

After waking up Spike wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep. Well passed out is the more appropriate term, but right now his body was feeling better then it had in weeks. And a part of him was incredibly angry at that, furious that he had allowed himself to loose some of the pain that he deserved.

To lose some of the burden he must carry to make him worthy of death once more. Heaven had rejected him along time ago, but now so had hell. He had no prophecy to look forward to, no happy ending, no rest. No hope. Not that he even remembered what that felt like.

All he wanted now was to make the demons pay for hell’s rejection of his damnation. Until they could give him a death that would stick, a death that would leave him free of Earthly memories, and simply provide him with the pain he knew was his fate in the afterlife.

----

Buffy didn’t know what to say. She was in shock more then anything. The thought of Dawn having any kind of sex had been a non-existent thought. So the sight of her laying nude covered only by sheets, and Andrew was almost more then she could take. The sight of Andrew clinging to her sister like a small child clings to its mother only added to her confusion.



Buffy’s first thought was tear the creep from her sister. Her fist was almost on its way before she could stop it. Before she could keep herself from venting her anger and rage on another, but looking at Andrew’s face for a second she saw Spike outside the Sunnydale Police Station. At that moment she stayed her hand, and turned to leave the room.


Buffy didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt, or maybe both at the two. She would never forgive Andrew for his sin, and that Dawn seemingly had, only made the betrayal seem worse somehow. But Buffy made no sound, and just left the two in Dawn’s room. Hoping to leave before her tears fell, before she could no longer keep the images of Spike from her mind. The images of a man to who love had not been a word, but a way of life.



Buffy made it to her room before the pain overwhelmed her before the tears erupted from her eyes like a river over a waterfall.


----



Geoffrey stared at the words on the page of the book he had opened before him, and after six minutes found he could still not read the words. His thoughts were focused to much on Angelic. Her attack on the Faryl demon nest had made him beyond concerned for his young slayer. Young Slayer, she was older then Buffy Summers when she had been called.



But Buffy Summers was probably the greatest slayer in history. More of a ‘force of nature’ then a slayer, she had faced demons, hell gods, the entirety of the Aurelius line, and the first evil itself. She had taken blows to her soul that would have destroyed a lesser slayer. He did not want his slayer to go through such pain, or have to make the choices Buffy had made.



He wanted to help her, guide her, and a part of him that he would never admit to, ever, wanted desperately to love her. And it was that part of him that could not concentrate, as he thought of Angelic going off with the purpose of pissing off a nest of Faryl demons. He hated waiting for her, hated that he had to stay behind, and he hated most of all that if she died tonight he would never have told her how much he loved her.

----

Spike stared out at Lake Michigan, its blue waters at night taking on an almost pitch black as if sucking in the darkness of the residents of the city. Spike did not wish that for himself. He had not come to Chicago seeking redemption. He’d lived too long, and done too much to receive that gift. The only brightness in his life had been Buffy and Dawn, but they were lost to him as surely as when in a century they would be no more then memory to this world and he would still be here.



Spike snarled as he kicked a stone gargoyle, cracking it. The numbing effects of the pain where lasting less and less, and his body could not take much more. Spike felt the growing desire to just walk into the sun hit him for at least the tenth time that day. But he had been rejected by heaven and hell twice already. He didn’t want to face it happening again. Turning away from his view Spike began to roam over the tops of buildings looking for a fight.



Less then fifteen minutes later, Spike heard the sound of fighting, and took off like a thoroughbred at the sound of the gun. He was there in less then a minute, and found himself looking down on a strangely familiar scene. The Chicago Slayer was hurt and surrounded by demons, Faryl demons to be precise. Looks like those buggars couldn’t leave the little slayer alone, Spike thought. She’d taken down two, but there were six more and the young slayer was hurt.



Spike didn’t have to even think he just threw himself off the top of the building. Slicing through the air like a knife as he landed softly right behind one of the Faryl demons. Stepping forward Spike just reached up and snapped the Faryl’s neck. The other demons and the slayer just turned and looked at him. “Oh, I’m sorry was I not supposed to get involved?”



“Stay out of this vampire! This is not your battle,” Spike just laughed at the comment then fired a snap kick into the nearest demon sending it flying backward, “Not very good at following orders.”


Spike knocked the Faryl demon back. Knocking it off the young slayer before it could hurt her. The young slayer was dazed, but not injured as badly as he had originally thought. How the hell did she find me? Spike wondered. Just then the second Faryl demon’s fist slammed into Spike’s side sending him flying into the alley wall. Spike felt the ribs snap and break with a sickening sound that reminded him of a cereal Dawn used to like to eat.

Then strangely the Faryl demons stopped moving as if something was blocking them. Spike wished his left eye wasn’t swollen shut; especially now that his ribs were screaming every time he moved any part of his upper body. Spike forced himself to grit against the pain to get on his feet. Before he could get up, he felt someone approach him, and grab his hand and pull his arm. Spike screamed. “What the sodding hell do you think you’re doing you…” Spike didn’t get to finish.

“Shut up Dead Boy Jr. We ain’t got time for you to be all whiny, so do that stiff upper lip thing you Brits are so good at or I call Giles and make him take your British license away.”

Spike wanted to curse Xander, or maybe just beat the shit out of him to teach him how much his painful yanking of his arm hurt. The two struggled back up towards the opening of the alley when Spike realized that Xander had not come alone. Standing there clearly concentrating hard was Willow. No wonder the Faryls’ stopped. Red must have cast a spell.

“Wills any chance you can conjure me a team of oxen because right now I could use it. I think Dead Boy Jr. here has packed on a few pounds.”

“Xander…I…really…don’t…have…time…right…now,” Willow said through clenched teeth.

But before anything else could happen Willow’s spell wavered, but it wavered only for a second. Most demons would never be able to move fast enough to get anything through quick enough before Willow could recover, but Spike was never one to play the numbers. A slick steel knife cut through the air like a sniper’s bullet straight for Willow. Spike pushed off Harris, and into Willow knocking her to the ground.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Spike said as he fell unconscious on top of Willow the knife gleaming in the night air of the alley. Xander pushed himself off the floor and rushed to the vampire and his friend.



“Willow are you okay?”



“Spike...can’t breathe…need air.” Xander gently tilted Spike from Willow so she could get up. Spike’s all blue eyes were now all white, and a knife handle was protruding out of his back.


“Willow this just got even worse didn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

-----

Giles waited anxiously by the phone for word from Xander or Willow. He knew it would not be easy to find Spike. Still he had hoped for at least word of the search’s progress by now. Dawn’s endless questions about where Willow and Xander had gone to where becoming harder and harder to avoid. As was Buffy’s silence, and seeming not noticing that her friends had left.

Just then his phone began ringing violently. “Willow are you okay?” Giles answered as he had every call in the last few days.

Although it was Willow’s voice that answered there was something about it that conveyed almost grave concern. “I’m fine, but Spike…” Willow’s voice wavered at the vampire’s name, as she forced herself to recount what had happened in the alley and what they had found afterwards. Giles had nothing to say for the first time in a very long time; Giles had no idea what to even say.

-----

Xander hadn’t understood what Willow was saying at first. Even for him there was too many tears as she told Xander what Giles had told him. ‘The Curse of Remembrance’ A poison that on first dose would make your memories of emotional pain so vivid as it takes over your life. The poison forces you to mentally relive the worst moments from your life. However, since Spike had slipped into a coma meant that he had received a dose before, most likely in L.A. as he battled the armies of hell in a desperate battle against the Senior Partner’s.

Xander knew what Willow would tell him. That there was no hope for Spike, but he didn’t understand how she could say that. They were the Scoobies. They had saved mankind from destruction, he had forgotten how many times. They had beaten demons, vampires, gods, and the first evil itself. How could something so simple as a poison stop them now? To fail now would cause them to lose Buffy, and he was tired of losing people. So failure was not an option, and no one would convince him otherwise.

-----

Angelic stared at Spike and wondered at the blond vampire. So you are the legendary Spike? Lying on the bed in her Watcher’s apartment he seemed so small. Not much taller then her, but back on the streets he had seemed larger. The others were busy working on text, on the phones, on everything but the simple act of watching him. So she had taken that job. Partly to pay him back for watching her, partly because she hoped maybe she would find answers, and partly because she wanted to know how he was back. Because like all people she wanted to know the truth behind the mysteries, and right now that was him.

She had read so much about Spike. The holy terror that searched out slayers both for the challenge of the fight they offered, and for the glory of fighting them. But she could find no trace of that Spike here. She was sure that Spike had been dead for years. That the moment he had loved Buffy, and maybe from the moment he had set foot in Sunnydale his destiny had been altered. He had battled evil without a soul, and then gone to claim one out of shame and guilt. Then he had battled to save the world and give his life to save it. Then he had been tossed back, and gone to fight once more.

She wasn’t sure if he had survived or been sent back once more. Only Spike knew the answer to that, but Spike had staggered from the battle to Chicago. But from those battles he had arrived changed. And if she was confused by Spike then she knew he confused the Scoobies even more. As they had dragged him to her watcher’s apartment they had discovered the almost endless procession of bruises on bruises that had never truly healed. It seemed almost as if Spike had been out to cause himself pain, and that seemed so out of character that they had no explanation.





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