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Author's Chapter Notes:
Alright! Chapter 10 is here, now. Well, Part 2 of it, anyway. Hope you liked Part 1! Enjoy! And Review! Please!
Restless: Part II

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Spike awoke with a jerk, sensing himself in the darkness of his crypt. It was cold… so cold… the candle flames seemed to dance around him in a mockery of a snowstorm, their flames pale blue.

“Cold?” he wondered aloud. “Since… when did I feel cold?”

A hundred years ago and counting.

Rolling out of bed, he slung on a shirt to cover his upper half. “Funny, slept with my jeans on, and upstairs, too,” he mused. “Don’t usually do that. In fact, I could swear that I didn’t… Bugger all…”

There was a growl as the crypt door banged, interrupting him as he wondered aloud. Instantly, he shifted himself into fighting position. Whereas before he’d been languid, almost like a cat stretching after a long resting nap, now he was tense and coiled, prepared to quickly spring into action. Too many demons had burst in from there lately, accusing him of siding with the Slayer. Whoever it was would be dead very soon…

As the stone door clanged again, however, Spike felt an unreasoning wave of fear wash over him.

“I can’t go there…”

He turned to move down the ladder towards the lower level. The rungs seemed slippery under his fingers, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Usually, everything was cold and dry, in his crypt. And why couldn’t he see the candlelight flickering? Why were there more shadows than ever before?

As he reached the middle rungs, he felt the atmosphere around him seem to shift. Frowning, he jumped down the last four rungs, and when he alighted, he found himself staring at a very familiar living room.

Shock stilled his tongue for a second, before his reflexes kicked in. “What the soddin’ hell!”

He looked around, feeling a sense of unnaturalness seep into his very skin. The ladder had disappeared. Irrationally, he grasped at thin air and came away with nothing. A voice broke into his thoughts.

“William? Where were you? Oh, I’ve been so worried…”

“Mother?”

Disbelievingly, Spike slowly turned to greet the woman approaching. Tentatively, he touched her… heard her heartbeat under his fingertips. Smelt the blood rushing through her. A sudden joy lit his pale features, and he caught her in his arms. Without noticing it, one hundred years melted off his face. “Mother, you’re alive!”

“Why, of course I am,” she smiled, slightly puzzled. “Sit with me?”

He led her gallantly to the chair, where he curled up against her again as she knitted, touching her as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. He couldn’t. He could still feel a tingling at the back of his neck that warned him that this was completely unnatural…

Suddenly, a coughing fit wracked her. Spike sat up, alarmed, and immediately fetched a glass of water for her. Blood speckled her handkerchief when she brought it away from her mouth.

“Mother, should I call a doctor?”

She shook her head. “It’s passed, don’t worry. Come, sit by me again.”

He looked at her resolute face, sighed, and then sat next to her again, leaning back into the couch. His eyes closed as she began singing. This was so familiar… so familiar it hurt. And yet, it stirred in him a vestige of fear, and he had no idea why.

“Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,
I heard a maid sing in the valley below.
"Oh, don't deceive me, oh, never leave me,
How could you use a poor maiden so?"”

“That was beautiful, mother,” Spike murmured softly after the last strains had melted into the air. “Like always.”

“You really think so?” she asked girlishly. He patted her hand, and then realized something suddenly. He could no longer hear her heartbeat, and the skin beneath his own was cold. The whispers of fear and unease turned into full-throated roar, and he almost let it escape.

Instead, he leapt up. “M-m… mother?”

“ ‘The lark hath spake from twixt its wee beak?’ You honestly thought I could bear an eternity listening to that twaddle?” she demanded mockingly. Each word crushed him. He stared, dumbfounded. This
wonderful dream had turned into a cruel nightmare… one that had haunted him until he pushed the memory into the depths of his mind.

She continued talking. “I feel extraordinary. It's as though I've been given new eyes. I see everything. Understand...” she looked at him and frowned, “Everything.”

He backed away, disturbed, knowing and dreading what was to come. The feeling of unnaturalness increased. “Mother...”

“I hate to be cruel,” she sighed, before frowning again. “No, I don't. I used to hate to be cruel in life. Now, I find it rather freeing. Nothing less will pry your greedy little fingers off my apron strings, will it?”

Spike looked away, feeling tears begin to pool at the edges of his eyes. Helplessness washed over him. “Stop. Please,” he begged softly.

She ignored him, walking closer. Brushing him with her scent. “Ever since the day you first slithered from me like a parasite...”

He felt his undead heart clench, and the tears coalesced into a shimmering mirror against his will. “What… what are you saying…?“

“Had I known better, I could have spared myself a lifetime of tedium and just…” she sighed melodramatically, her voice hardening with a growl. “Dashed your brains out when I first saw you.”

She turned away from him, malice and hatred still tainting her voice. “God, I prayed you'd find a woman to release me, but you scarcely showed an interest. Who could compare to your doddering housebound mum? A captive audience for your witless prattle.”

Each word was a weapon. A weapon meant to hurt. Suddenly, he felt aware of everything. Every single detail of the horror leapt into focus. His mother’s hair falling down in the waves he knew so well from his childhood. The fury and violence of the demon behind the human mask. Her scent. The scent he knew so well. That spoke of comfort and nursery songs and love, but now smelt of death.

And most of all, her lack of heartbeat. The silence. Screaming out at him.

Spike straightened, and quietly spoke the same words he had spoken over a hundred times. With perfect clarity and confidence. “Whatever I was, that's not who I am anymore.”

She snickered, and walked even closer. “Darling, it's who you'll always be. A limp, sentimental fool. You want to run, don't you? Scamper off and cry to your new little trollop. Do you think you'll be able to love her?” she leant even closer.

“Think you'll be able to touch her without feeling me?”

He backed away again, but she only followed, touching his face and his body. “All you ever wanted was to be back inside. You finally got your wish, didn't you?” she spat. “Sank your teeth into me. An eternal kiss. “

He shook his head violently. “No. I only wanted to make you well. Mother, you were sick! Sick and dying…“

“You wanted your hands on me. Perhaps you'd like a chance to finish off what you started.”

He pushed her away, looking anywhere in this dreaded place of memories. At anything except for her. Looked for a doorway. Looked for the ladder. “I love you. I did. Not like this.”

“Just like this,” she disagreed, sneering. Moving closer to him. “This is what you always wanted. Who's my dark little prince?” She tilted her head upwards, trying to kiss him.

In a panic, Spike pushed her away, knocking her down. “No!”

She snarled, transformed into her vampiric visage, and threw him backwards. –I don’t remember it being like this-. He crashed into the wall and whimpered as he felt two ribs break and bury themselves in his heart. Dazedly, something told him he had died again, and yet was still living…


“William… there you are.”

Stinging pain enveloped his chest as he looked up through hazy eyes. Dimly, he heard the voice. It dripped with relief. Screwing up his eyes, he looked to the owner.

It took him a few seconds to realize.

“Cecily?” he breathed. She smiled at him. His voice bore all the reverence you would give to a goddess.
Confusion riddled him as he stared at her. She was… he gulped. Even more beautiful than he’d remembered.

“We’ve been looking all over for you! Your mother’s ill… in hospital…”

Despite knowing that this couldn’t possibly be, Spike grabbed her arm. “Where! Where is she? I need to go to her!”

“Oh William,” Cecily smiled kindly. “Why do you care? She hurt you. Hurt you so badly…” her fingers danced across his chest. He winced as pain shot from her fingertips to lodge deep into his skin,

Spike gaped at her. He knew that he looked like a fool, but he gaped at her nonetheless. Her words seemed to blur and echo as if she was at one end of a wind tunnel, and he was at the other. Shaking his head furiously, he caught her last words.

“…Stay with me. Read me your poetry.”

“Okay, something is seriously wrong here,” he growled, trying to collect his senses. “Where is my mother!”

“Your mother?” Cecily asked curiously. “No, it’s Drusilla who’s ill.”

“Drusilla!” Spike’s knuckles whitened even more, as images of his black princess assailed him. Pale face. Adoring smile. Wicked grin. Lustrous hair. “Take me to her!”

“But William… I thought you loved me,” Cecily looked hurt.

“First of all,” Spike said bluntly, shaking free of whatever spell her presence had seemed to place on him, his hand coming to clench down on her arm. “I’m not William. Not anymore. You were the one who changed that.”

He tightened his grip, and she screamed slightly. Perturbed, he let her go again, and then tried to change into game face. He was surprised when he couldn’t.

“Can’t you… love me like this?” Cecily looked at him again in hurt. She was beautiful in this light. “Why can’t you love me like this?”

Before he cold reply, Cecily’s face suddenly changed. Ridges appeared, and Spike recoiled from her as golden eyes flashed from between bony brows. “Do you love me like this?”

Spike merely gaped again.

Cecily sighed, and then changed into Halfrek. “Do you recognize me now, William?”

“You’re… you’re a vengeance demon…” was all Spike could stutter out.

“Well?” Halfrek twirled around, still in demon face and yet still wearing Cecily’s clothes. “Do you love me now?”

“I…” Spike mumbled.

“What’s wrong, William?” Halfrek moved closer, her skirts rustling as she went. She brushed up against him, and he shuddered.

“I-I…” he stuttered.

“William?”

“Wh… what?”

“You’re beneath me.”

Spike felt her lash out with demonic strength, tossing him halfway across the room to crash into a wall. His body cried out in pain as he felt another rib crack, and lodge straight in his heart along with the other two.
But that wasn’t the reason he was crying softly now. He hadn’t cried for a long, long time. He could barely remember the last… oh no, wait. When Drusilla had left him.

Speaking of which…

Suddenly, he was in a palace. Artificial lights danced as fireworks exploded into the night. People whirled around in graceful steps, ignoring the broken man leaning against a wall, clad only in jeans and a red, ripped shirt.

“And here I wonder... what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven and brought this dashing stranger...”

Spike slowly raised his head, tears shining from his eyes. “D… Dru?” he asked in disbelief and a naked hope and longing.

“To tears?” She reached out, and traced the lines, digging in with her nails. Spike winced as a trail of blood began to flow simultaneously, mixing in a liquid combination of blood and tears… his life.

“God Dru,” he stared at her, entranced. “I’ve missed you so much…” his voice cracked.

“Grrr…” she growled, suddenly standing up. “Too human! Naughty Spike! What’s happened to you? The stars… they said my black knight was here. But I see nothing but white!”

“No, I’m here, Dru,” Spike said soothingly, painstakingly standing up, mindful of his broken rib. “I’ll always be here…” he moved to hug her, but she stepped backwards.

“No!” she cried despondently, moving away from him. She knocked aside a candle holder, but still, no-one noticed. “No! Too human! Spike, my Spike… what’s happened to you? Your blood! It’s tainted…”

“What’s happened to me?” Spike cried, feeling anger surge in his undead heart. “You! That’s bloody well what! I loved you, Dru. I still love you! But as soon as Angelus got back… you never looked once at me! Always ‘Daddy this’ and ‘Daddy that’… and then I stopped the world ending for you! I stopped it for you, Dru, so there’d still be the stars and the soddin’ night to talk to! Still be the fight! Still be the humans and the fresh, sweet blood…”

Suddenly, she was dancing. Swirling in her red dress like the night of her birthday. He watched entranced as her hips swayed closer to his… and then stopped.

“No more dancing with me, Spike,” she hissed. “Not until you come back! Change! Too much change! What have they done!”

“Come back?” he demanded. “What do you mean?”

“Where’s my deadly little Spike?” Dru purred, tracing his chest with a sharp nail. It pierced the fabric and somehow eased the pain of his broken rib. “Where’s he gone? Can’t find him… the stars can’t find him either…”

“I’m here baby, right here,” Spike assured her. “It’s just the chip…”

“No!” Drusilla cried, and pushed him back with all of her vampiric strength. He smashed into the wall again, and this time he roared with agony as he felt three ribs break, and smash into his heart. He knew somewhere in his mind that this wasn’t anatomically possible, but through the haze of tears, the rest of his consciousness focussed on Drusilla, walking towards him now in the dress she wore when she first turned him.

“No! Too human! Too human…”

“You sound like the bloody Judge himself, sweetheart,” Spike managed to rasp out midst his broken tears before everything went black.


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(Please, Read and Review! I'm sorry about the update wait, by the way. I was pondering where to go with Spike's dream.)





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