“There’s a prophecy.”
Those words had run on repeat in her head until Buffy had finally forced herself to go to Giles. At first she’d been afraid of what the prophecy might reveal, but if she didn’t find out what Spike was talking about, her head might explode.
Covering her neck with an attractive turtleneck and making sure every other part of her was concealed with several layers of clothing, she made her way to the school library, confident that all bases were taken care of just in case anyone she knew had x-ray vision and could see the bite marks that littered her flesh.
Other than making sure no one else got the visual of what she and Spike had been up to, Buffy was stubbornly banishing the majority of the event from her mind. She was focused on the prophecy revelation, rather than on how blue his eyes were when he was up super close, or how nimble his tongue was when he was even closer. Thinking of her weakness could only lead to more badness, and badness was something Buffy was more than happy to cut back on for the moment. It wouldn’t do to be distracted by physical pleasures when there was a Hellmouth to protect. And a boyfriend she had to make sure kept his soul.
Not that that would be a problem. As avoidy as she was being regarding her decadent night in another vampire’s arms, Buffy was finding it difficult to quell the butterflies that began whipping up a gale in her belly with their fragile-thin wings whenever a bite mark was touched, or when the traitorous part of herself reminded her of the sensory pleasures he was capable of giving her. She’d done things, many, many things that made it impossible to think of Angel without experiencing some kind of strong guilt, paralleling with an equally strong yearning to do it all over again with Spike.
She should be disgusted with herself.
She should be horrified that she’d allowed herself to get so carried away with an evil vampire—and one who was obviously furious with her and wanted to feel her blood run like a river down his throat—but she wasn’t. She wasn’t feeling anything she should, and that worried Buffy to no end. That was a whole load of worry that she needed to unload on her watcher at the earliest opportunity, and yet having to give him the background was more than enough to make her wait.
She’d run out of time.
Last night had been weird. After Spike had left, Buffy spent the entire day contemplating the best way to break the news to Giles and how to ask him to look up some freaky prophecy that could possibly be twisted enough to explain to her how she’d ended up having the most amazing sex with a vampire that wasn’t Angel. And not just that it wasn’t Angel, but a vampire-not-Angel that didn’t even have a soul.
Was that the kind of Slayer she was now? Did sleeping with Spike open up a future that she’d been unaware of? Was he the start of the era of Buffy the super vampire slut? Flash a fang and she’d so be your girl for the night? Not only was that possibility scary, but it was dangerous.
Maybe sleeping with Spike was some really bad portent to a cosmic joke. What if the sky was about to fall in because she’d allowed Spike to fall into her? Or worse yet, what if it meant nothing at all? What if it had just been her—Buffy—and her lusty feelings guiding her into the most obscene and tacky union since Pam Anderson and Tommy Lee?
Shuddering in shock, Buffy almost ran the rest of the way to the school. She was so postponing the major freak-out session that was bubbling furiously inside her.
The slayer was panting by the time she slammed open the library doors and immediately located Giles.
“Giles, I’ve got a research project for you.” Buffy stopped abruptly at his raised brow and the heavy, leather-bound book he indicated was already in his hands.
“Would it be for a prophecy that Spike would seem ridiculously certain is about him?” he asked dryly.
Buffy blanched at the reminder that her number one enemy was in town and that she had details about him that she’d rather die than reveal.
“He didn’t get that far with the explanation,” she partially confirmed, suffering an unwanted blush at the all-too-ready re-run of how she’d come by the little amount of information she had.
“Oh?” Giles asked hopefully. “Do tell me you managed to finally dust him and I can be the one to inform the Council?”
The idea of Spike being dust stopped her cold in her tracks and Buffy suffered an aching chill jetting through her body and squeezing painfully her heart. She had to fight hard against the urge to hurt Giles for making light of the possibility and for suggesting that she’d been responsible for it had it happened. It was against every rational instinct she’d ever had, but the thought of Spike suffering was a torment she’d never expected to feel.
“No.” It felt like a punch to the gut to say it out loud, that she was compromising his continued safety by admitting he was still walking and snarking around the Hellmouth. Buffy crossed her arms around herself as if she was chilled and tried hard to shake off the weirdness that wouldn’t let go. The weirdness that was continued with her conflicting feelings for Angel and the images that had been shown her in her dream.
“Um, last night…I kind of had one of those crazy, not-with-the-sense-making slayer dreams. It was about Angel and Drusilla, and they were surrounded by this huge crowd of vamps. They were all screaming and clutching their heads, some shouting ‘traitor’ while Angel crumbled into dust, and then Dru...” She fluttered her hands in an imitation of dust sprinkling the breeze and then shot a filthy glare at Giles’s sudden jolt to his feet and the happy smile that sprung to his lips. “They rose again. I’m not sure what they were, but all the vamps were suddenly not there anymore escept for Dru and Angel…and they kind of felt different. I’m not sure how, but I know something unexplainable seemed to happen to them.”
Giles stood confused before slowly sinking back into his seat, quickly re-reading a passage in his book and peering up at Buffy with a look of shock. “The first and last wall of Aurelius crumbles to dust. Extraordinary. And they rose again, you say? My lord, how fascinating. There’s nothing here to explain that or to even indicate what is to come. Nothing to serve as a warning as to whether Angel might become dangerous once again or rather, retain his soul.”
Buffy’s face reflected her complete lack of comprehension about what he was talking about. Instead of attempting to follow his rambling illogic, she chose to look bemused at the number of expressions that flitted rapidly across his face, seemingly ending with a tidal wave of despair. His clenched fist came crashing down on the tabletop with a muted thud, but it was hard enough that it made a tea cup bounce.
“I’ve been so incredibly stupid,” he scolded himself. “The first wall of Aurelius must indeed be Angel. With The Master and Darla both gone, Angel would have stepped up in the hierarchy, and is in all likelihood the current head of the line. Who knows how many of the Order are scattered around the globe? But then again, if the prophecy speaks of the first wall crumbling due to your union with another, then, of course, it can’t be Angel. Oh Lord, I do hope I haven’t allowed the contents of the prophecy to fall into the hands of evil by seeking Angel’s advice.” The possibility of having handed valuable information over to someone that could have easily become the enemy was both alarming and devastating for the watcher.
“Okay, once more for those of us who don’t know a thing about what you’re talking about. A union with the who now?” Buffy flinched at Giles’s miserable look of attrition and stepped back before he decided to get too hands on with the apology.
“I-I’m dreadfully sorry, Buffy. I’ve been terribly remiss. Sit down, you must read the prophecy for yourself. The first section I am sure you will find to be rather straightforward.”
Buffy did as asked and glanced through the surprisingly English passage. “Whoa, did these guys finally get with a clue and write something about the slayer that she might actually have a chance at reading and understanding?” Brows crossed in determination, Buffy concentrated on the words and tried to decipher what the ‘straightforward’ bit at least should be telling her.
“Huh,” she said after several minutes of silence. “First time I ever thought of dying as a fast track to hope.”
Giles smiled at her encouragingly but Buffy just shrugged her shoulders. No way was she going to leave herself open on this one. She wanted the skinny from Giles himself before she decided on how to feel about this—because having feelings on any of it—one way or the other—was scaring her silly.
“Y-yes, that is perhaps rather an unfortunate turn of phrase, though I would hope in the long term you might see it that way.” At her blank, unreceptive stare, Giles cleared his throat awkwardly and chose to continue. “The second part is what I think, on further reflection, might be where Spike believes himself to come into play.”
Eyes widening in panic, Buffy darted another glance over the passage and released a long held breath. Play? Spike had come here all along to play with her? And his definition of playing needed one hell of a lot of work. “Okay, correct me if I’m wrong, but why do I always attract the freaky, scary prophecies? Why can’t I have one that says, ‘Today the chosen one will eat toast?’ I mean, what’s with all the ‘she will die,’ and ‘she will hook up and get nasty with a vampire that would rather see her dead but who is destined to give up his evil ways to help her kill sorrow?’ And what the hell is sorrow anyway?”
Giles preened at the question, garnering up his official watcher persona so that he could dispense the information with a side dish of nauseating high brow tweediness.
“There was one about your eating habits actually, but I thought it beneath our notice and didn’t bother you with it. Should I have?” He struggled with hiding a grin as Buffy threw a wadded-up napkin at him, then forced himself back to business.
“Sorrow is actually the official term given to the vampire curse as an evolutionary race. At the dawn of time when the first vampire begot the next, and the Council was born, it was considered that the spread of demons was a plague, and being rather more creative than I would have given them credit, they called it Sorrow.”
Buffy considered it and smiled sadly. “It’s kind of pretty, in a really morbid way.”
“Yes,” agreed Giles. “I’ve always believed so. Still, it isn’t spoken of these days and the term has fallen into relative obscurity, so I’m not surprised you hadn’t heard of it. As for why you? I’ve no idea, other than that you are undoubtedly particularly special.”
Buffy blushed, flattered by the unusual compliment, even if it was basically an excuse to explain why she drew the short straw in attracting the paranormal life-changing events. “So, if I’m interpreting this right, me and some other lucky personality-crisis vamp are going to wipe out vampires for good? Which, while really big with the ewwww—” And she was still actively ignoring the iggly bits in her belly telling her that Spike was quite far from revolting, “—has to be a good, right?”
“Yes, Buffy. That’s how I’ve read it also.” He waited as more of the passage became clear to her.
“Hold on a second, I have kids? And then someone wipes them out? No way!”
Giles rushed on, afraid that Buffy would be too easily distracted with the impulse to do damage to someone or something over words she’d misinterpreted. “No. I’m quite certain it is implying that alongside this other creature, you will be eternal. That your offspring and their descendents will populate the earth—along with yourselves—for a rather long time to come.”
Shock bolted through her. Descendents meant babies, meant sex, meant Spike was somehow going to knock her up and start up their very own family line. Buffy felt weak at the thought, overwhelmed by how incredibly out of synch her world was with the big one that she lived in. Her mouth felt dry, her heart was thudding and jumping painfully in her chest and Buffy felt like she was going to faint. No, she was totally blocking out the babies-with-Spike concept. It had no access to her mind right now—not if she was going to retain her sanity until this weirdness abated.
Giles had never seen eyes quite so wide as Buffy’s as she stared at him in shock. “By eternal, you mean immortal, right? Like, I’m not going to go up against the Mayor or the next big bad and bite the big one at the defining moment?” There was wary celebration already going on inside, but Giles could see that Buffy hadn’t yet given herself permission to really grasp the reality. Or to relish what it would mean for her future.
The slayer shuddered visibly before abruptly pushing herself from the table and commenced pacing. “You know, they really should give a slayer some warning about all these freaky prophecies that fool around with an already too-eventful existence.” Blinking rapidly, Buffy refused to give in to the tears that were threatening to overwhelm her, knowing that maybe she’d reached that point where things became too much.
It was difficult, but Buffy pushed back the urge to panic and instead concentrated on her slayer-head—the one that was cool and focused. Breathing deeply, she drew in all her power and concentrated. Something, some latent, sleepy piece of the puzzle niggled in her brain and Buffy slowly moved back to the table and re-read the words that were supposed to shape her life. And there it was. The one word that had miraculously remained invisible in terms of the other, supposedly more startling revelations of the prophecy.
“Ahh, Giles? This says that Spike and I—that’s if Spike’s the vamp that lost his way and I am so not discussing the possible babies thing with you—it says that Spike and I will join in battle. Excuse me if I’m way off base here, but shouldn’t there be some tiny, incy wincy little bit of concern about what the hell I’m supposed to be fighting? The last time Spike and I fought together—and that was a totally lop-sided arrangement if ever there was one—it was pretty much with the world-changing. Acathla was going to bring Hell on earth. Wouldn’t the fight that is supposed to wipe out a plague of demons and join a slayer to a vampire be kind of…well…big?”
Giles gaped at her, floored that he’d read this passage umpteen times and missed the relevance of what Buffy was pointing out. It was his job to prepare her for battle, and with even the blatant use of the word, he’d been blind. But then he hung his head miserably, afraid to admit that there were no clues to help him discover who—or what, exactly—they would have to fight.
“I-I apologise, Buffy. I should have been…” He tapered off, completely at a loss as to why he’d not explored this part of the prophecy. There was sadness at his obvious failure, but also fear of the unknown. Everything was already so uncertain, with slayer-dreams and Spike into the mix that he had to draw on every skill he had at organisation to properly focus on each issue. Well, the ones he hadn’t missed.
“We can’t always be perfect, Giles,” Buffy admitted, though the slow smile on her lips showed how much she thought he had been. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure the mystery will unfold right before we’re scheduled to die.” She was grinning now, giving him permission to relax and acknowledge how they always scraped through.
Giles nodded gratefully, even though he was no closer to resolving the issue of Spike. “Buffy, I still think the situation with Spike is volatile. Perhaps it would be wise if you try and avoid him as best you can.”
The slayer rolled her eyes. “Oh absolutely,” she deadpanned. “Because the last two times I totally sought him out.”
Reading the prophetic passage still hadn’t helped her sort any of this out. Why Spike? What on earth inspired the Powers to play matchmaker and hook her up with Spike? She couldn’t deny there was sparkage—pretty spectacular sparkage if she was honest. But that didn’t even begin to go far enough in explaining to her why her life had been hit completely out of the ball park on a vamp like Spike.
That short burst of thinking about him made a warm, aching burn spread from her belly out and Buffy couldn’t deny how easily he’d made her body want to connect again with his flesh. This longing was much more powerful than she would have expected without the complication of love. They didn’t know each other—didn’t even like each other—and Buffy couldn’t see how it was possible for that emotion to develop between them. Not when she’d given her heart to Angel. Not when she believed there would be no one else but the souled vampire to make her heart beat loudly for another.
She didn’t want to admit that that rhythm had already faltered.
“I’ll try not to run into Spike,” Buffy promised, already knowing she’d have no success with that. There was something inherent in her understanding of him now that made her know the kind of vampire he was. Either he was confused by what had happened between them and was allowing the intrigue of the prophecy to guide his hand, or he was so furious he’d want her dead on the spot.
Buffy shivered before nodding and leaving the quiet library to begin her nightly patrol. If she was lucky the Powers would be looking out for her for once and keep Spike away from her, at least for tonight.
Not that she was ever lucky.
Spike was waiting for her outside the school, and while she was risking everything by turning her back on him, Buffy walked toward the first patrol ground of the night and tried to ignore how hard she trembled. Spike kept pace behind her and Buffy could almost hear the flaring of his nostrils as his anger grew.
“What did the watcher say?” he demanded at last, having dogged her heels for a full five minutes while he puffed furiously around his cigarette. “What’s the bleeding verdict about yours truly?”
She stopped at that. Anyone would think from his tone that she had all the answers. That he had a bigger right to be pissed at the world than she did, because it was everyday a slayer got the neato chance to hook up with evil incarnate. The desire to tear someone’s head off for playing Chinese Checkers with her life once again was almost overwhelming and Buffy whirled on Spike with her fists raised, her chest heaving with building fury.
“You wanna verdict so bad, Spike? Just come right on over here and I’ll give you one. It’s kinda final, though.” She shrugged noncommittally, even though she was screaming inside. “Just thought I’d warn ya.” She stared him down, a complete picture of cool, calm determination, but she flinched when he threw his butt into the grass and ground it out with his boot.
“You listen to me, you self-righteous bint. I came here to kill you, but I’m going to lay off till this prophecy bollocks is sorted, yeah? Then it’s gloves off and we’ll finally get to resolve this bizarre relationship we have. Now, nobody is handing me anything about this supposed destiny and as it affects you as well, I had thought you’d be reasonable and share. So shove the threats and get on with it, or I’ll shag you till you have a reason for not talking.” His smirk was pure sin and Buffy felt herself falling into a gaping hole of nothingness, her eyes wide and shocked at the startling effect he had on her.
No words came to help her out and feeling her gut clench against turning her back on a dangerous and furious vampire, she did it anyway. She hurried off hoping that Spike would get the message, even if it was a pipe dream.
“Are you completely bloody whacked?” Spike grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him, his lip twisting in barely repressed rage. “I was talking to you. Don’t these wankers teach you any manners at this school of yours?”
She shook him off with a defensive shrug and then gasped at the vision she caught in the distance behind Spike.
“Okay, crash course? There’s a huge, monumental battle. And I could be mistaken,” she rushed, her voice squeaky as she grabbed his arm and began to pull him along with her, “but I have a feeling the crowd of obviously pissed vamps bearing down on us right now could possibly be it.” That was it. Buffy started running. No way did she want to be caught out in the open with nothing at her back but open ground. Getting surrounded by a frighteningly large group of vamps was really low on her plans for the night.
Spike allowed the slayer to tug him along with her, more or less. When she stopped and looked wildly around her for somewhere that didn’t leave her with her back uncovered, he swung his head to get a look at their pursuers. He whistled at the size of the army advancing with amazing speed, fangs descended and ridges prominent as they snarled their demonic threats. The ground thundered under their feet and he even felt the vicious, collective snarling vibrate through his body as well as ring in his ears.
The familiarity of family didn’t hit him until the first row had rushed the slayer. Brow creased with curiosity, Spike watched as his long-believed enemy was faced with certain death.
“I’m not happy ‘bout being in good ole Sunnyhell again, Slayer,” he called out causally.
Her face was already bruised and there was blood dripping down her cheek. “’Kay,” she gasped out, trying to dodge too many fists and using as many of her limbs to do as much damage as she could.
“And I’m rightly pissed off about the shagging, too.”
The action stalled for a second, more than a few of his kin staring at him in open-mouthed horror. It allowed Buffy a precious advantage and she seized it, dusting three vamps before they were crushing her with their power once again.
She spat out a mouthful of blood as she copped another fist in the jaw, bouncing against a vampire that had wiggled in behind her. “Gotcha,” she replied with a wet, reddened smile of sadness.
Her arms were clamped behind her back and Spike almost lost sight of her as the swarm of vamps he now recognised as Aurelian surrounded her and pushed him out of the way.
Spike staggered unsteadily before he raised his head, amber eyes glowing feral in the dark. No one pushed him out of the way. With a bloodcurdling roar, he jumped into the fray, tearing heads off bodies as he went. The noise was deafening, at least fifty vampires furious over the interruption of their plan to tear the slayer apart, bit by bit.
While he’d been slow to act, now the urgency to save Buffy ripped his insides until he was howling in desperation. He threw the last off her and dragged her to her feet and together they stood back-to-back. Buffy was weak on her feet, but she somehow had managed to retain a grip on her stake. Bloodied fingers reached into her jacket and she retrieved another, passing it lightning fast to Spike as the offensive wall of Aurelians descended on them once again.
Together they jabbed and swung, punched and staked anything that came near them…until sweat slid down her back in a parallel trail with the blood and her heartbeat skipped occasionally with strain.
After fighting desperately for five minutes, Buffy noticed that she didn’t have to stab with her stake quite so hard. She watched stunned expressions of accusation when a touch was all it took to turn the enemy to dust. And another five minutes saw the two blondes just standing silent, eyes wide with amazement, arms in an unthreatening position at their sides as clouds of destroyed vampires spun in the gentle breeze before settling on the ground.
The quiet stretched, Buffy turning to Spike with a questioning look in her eyes. He shrugged, his own expression one of surprise and confusion.
“And the Order of Aurelius is no more.” Dru whispered sadly as she and Angel materialised from beyond the dust, hands joined while they looked on the devastation with something resembling sadness and regret.
“Bollocks,” Spike spat, glaring at them while they flaunted their closeness in his face once again. “I see three of us right here.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared the pair down defiantly.
A coughing and wheezing Giles barged through the pair then, gasping for air as he leaned forward and choked on the high piles of vampire ash.
“Bu-Buffy, are you quite alright?”
Buffy stepped forward, ignoring the pain she felt at closeness of her boyfriend with another, and gave her watcher an indignant look. Her clothing barely made her decent to be in public and she had many wounds draining her of energy.
“I’ll live,” she compromised. There was no point stating the obvious, that a stiff breeze was all that was holding her up—as well as Spike’s body against her side.
Giles nodded in understanding, and then he bravely stood tall, his face reddened from the burst of exercise and the news he’d intended to impart but which now seemed far too late. “Spike, I’m afraid you are quite mistaken. There are no longer any Aurelian vampires in existence. The line is now extinct.”
There was a hush of disbelief, and then Spike was laughing uproariously, a mean glint in his eye as he bore down on the delusional watcher. “I don’t know what you’ve been smokin’, mate, but you’re off your bleeding tree. I’ve got eyes and they aren’t deficient.”
“He’s telling the truth, Spike.” Angel witnessed the flared nostrils, the shining malice in the bright blue eyes of his grandchilde, and waited for Spike to use his other senses. He accurately guessed the second Spike noticed the heartbeat he now shared with Drusilla, the altered scent that their union gave off. He had hardly a clue what they were now, but he did fully believe his Aurelian days were behind him. And after seeing the mass eradication of his line in plain sight, he was rather grateful that Dru had come to save him when she did.
Spike gaped in awe at the pair, remaining silent even though he wanted to scream at whoever’s smart idea it was to completely change his world. Before he found the words to express his shock, they’d turned and left, taking the watcher with them. Still reeling, it took Buffy collapsing at his side for him to snap out of the daze and take in how many wounds she sported just in obvious sight.
“Best get you to the hospital, pet. Probably need a pint or ten of blood.”
Spike leant down and picked her up, marvelling at how light she was in his arms as he began the trip to the nearest doctor.
He wasn’t yet ready to consider why he wasn’t diving in to drain her remaining life force. Her body hummed to his as her eyes closed and her head bumped against his chest. There was something here that they didn’t understand. He could feel it thrumming under the surface and he’d be damned if he left without any answers.
There would be no more shutting Spike out. Whatever was going on—whatever had just happened—was way too big for them to expect him to toddle off with his tail between his legs and none the wiser at what he’d stumbled into.
Or what he’d been shoved into.
He deserved the truth, and the only way to get it was to make sure Buffy was all right.
He ignored the pang in his heart that betrayed his own worry for her health. He wasn’t supposed to have a heart. Wasn’t supposed to care about his enemy.
Wasn’t meant to shag her rotten either, and then want more.
It felt almost wrong when he reached the hospital. His arms seemed to have bonded to her frame and it took a major effort to let her slip from his hold. Her face was pale and her gaze glassy when she opened her eyes and saw him at her side. Weakly she reached for his hand, mouthed a ‘thank you’ before surrendering to unconsciousness.
No, he wasn’t meant to want her at all.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was read through in a rush (expecting the inlaws any second and my house is a disaster!) so that Rae could possibly read it on time. Please comment if you see any errors or things that don't make sense as I added a number of things after the betas saw it and it could be all messed up. My apologies if that is so.