[Reviews - 119]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2678 times

- Text Size +




As always thanks to April for proof reading and sorting out my awful grammer, I wish i'd had her when I wrote What You Wanted.

I apologise profusely for the unacceptable delay in bring this installment. The people at work have been expecting me to work, it's most inconvenient.

Thanks for your patience

.........................................

The magic swirled around her in bright ribbons of light and colour. Her eyes were dark, her face set in an expression of grim concentration, but her hair was mercifully still chestnut. The familiarity of the scene was more than a little disconcerting, and Buffy felt her stomach clench in nervous recognition.

She had tried to dissuade them. She had argued that Willow was too tired, Willow was unstable - that one in private to only Giles - that the spell was unreliable. She had stressed that the mysterious Caleb was their priority and they should focus their attention on him. She had wondered aloud if the magical disturbance would draw the attention of the First. She had even tried to distract them with a false alarm - demon talk of an uber-vamp in town - but in the end she had been ignored, disregarded and overruled.

She had no idea why she had tried so hard to prevent the cursing of Spike. Perhaps it seemed unfair that the vampire that had once willingly battled for his soul, and had worn it as a badge of honour, should have it now forced on him in shame and punishment. Or perhaps, if she was honest, she just didn’t want him to have it back. She stamped down hard on that thought. No, she wasn’t like that. Not anymore. She wasn’t the sick, frightened girl she had been last year, craving the darkness of him with such insatiable fervour.

The magic fizzled and died with an anticlimactic hiss. Willow shook her head and her now green eyes filled with confusion. “I don’t understand,” she murmured tiredly, flopping down on the sofa.

“What happened?” Dawn asked, concern evident in her voice. She hadn’t been able to get away from her sister long enough to warn Spike about the curse. She had been tempted to sabotage the spell - maybe swap Willow’s tarick root for a little sage - but she had been afraid the spell would go wonky and hurt someone. “Did it work? Is Spike ok?”

“No.” Willow looked apologetically at Buffy. “I’m sorry, Buffy. His soul...it’s gone.”

“Gone?” It was Giles who asked, offering the grateful redhead a glass of water.

“Yeah.” Willow frowned and took a deep breath before launching into her explanation. “When a vampire is turned, the soul is trapped in the ether, unable to move on until its body finally dies. That’s how I cursed Angel. I just plucked the soul out of the ether and shoved it back in. Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that, obviously, but you get the idea.” She looked around nervously, her eyes finding the Slayer last. “Spike’s soul isn’t in the ether; its gone.”

“Gone where?” Dawn asked curiously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Buffy broke in. The spell had failed, Spike’s soul was gone, and she was not relieved--she really, really wasn’t. “We can’t do the spell. You need to research Caleb. I’ll deal with Spike.”

…………………………………

“Bit,” Spike hissed, appearing for a moment in the kitchen window before disappearing into the shadows. She glanced around nervously before slipping out the back door.

“Spike,” she called softly, peering into the shadows at the side of the house.

“Over here, pet.” His voice was quiet in the still night air, cautious.

“It’s okay, she’s not here,” Dawn told him, sensing the cause of his unease. “She’s out looking for you. Willow tried to curse you but she couldn’t. Buffy’s gonna kill you.” She felt tears rising to choke her at the thought, and her voice came out as a pained whisper.

“Hey now, none of that.” He took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes, dark and watery in the amber glow of the streetlights.

“She made Willow do a un-invite on the house,” she continued tearfully. “But I live there, too, so you can co—“

He cut her off with a finger laid gently over her lips and a soft regretful smile. “No.” He gave a slow shake of his head. “She locked me out. I reckon I’ll wait for her to open up the bloody door again. Thanks anyway, bit. It means a lot.”

She nodded her understanding, wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand. “So what are you doing here?” she asked with a curious tilt of her head. “She’ll kill you if she finds you here.”

“You mean she’d try.” He gave her a cocky smirk that had her rolling her eyes at him, before he turned serious. “I got me some info on our friendly parish priest.”
…………………………….

He watched her retreat into the house and hoped she’d be able to spin the slayer a good line about his information. Stubborn bitch’d never believe anything if she knew it came from him. He felt a bitter pain rise with the knowledge that she trusted him so little, that even after everything they’d been through together she still knew nothing about him. With a sigh, he turned his back on the welcoming lights of the house and headed back towards the graveyard.

“Ack!” he cursed, the unmanly noise escaping him as he came face to face with the subject of his thoughts. Damn slayer creeping up on a fella.

“What are you doing here, Spike?” she asked, her voice cold and hard, with just a hint of fatigue.

“Not what you think,” he replied defensively, letting his irritation at her attitude show in his voice. “I’m not here to kill anybody.” He pointed at her and his voice rose with anger. “And I’m not bloody stalking you, all right?”

She sighed, and to him it was the single most heartbreaking sound in the universe. She sounded beyond tired, beyond scared, beyond hurt or betrayed; she sounded beaten. It was too much: the girls, the First, him. It was just too much for her to cope with all at once. Concern and tenderness washed flowed through him easily, dissipating his anger.

“Pet,” he told her gently, “I’m not your enemy.” He tilted his head and regarded her with soft sincere eyes. “You need fighters, luv, and I’ll fight. You know I will.”

She felt herself falter, felt the irresistible draw of his support. She’d been relying on it now for so long, she had felt like a cripple bereft of her crutch when he had left. Or rather when she had kicked him out.

Tears filled her eyes and she looked away. She could not do this, not now, not with him, not anymore. But the tears came anyway, fat silent drops of fear and desperation rolling freely down her cheeks until she tasted salt water on her lips.

“Buffy, luv,” he raised a cautious hand to touch her, dropping it to his side when her eyes widened in slight alarm. “Pet, please don’t cry. It’ll be okay. You can do this; you got the scythe and that other chosen bird. You got your pals and your little army. And you got me. I’m not gonna stop fighting for you, pet. I promise.”

She met his eyes again, and he was certain he saw hope there. Had he inspired that in her - his confidence, his pledge? Had that been enough to beat back the growing despair? His cowardly hand found new courage and came up to touch her damp face. “Buffy.” He whispered her name as he always did: a reverent prayer.

She didn’t speak, didn’t trust her voice not to betray her. If she spoke, she was certain she would confess the depth of her fear. She would court his reassurance, or, worse yet, ask him to stay. She leant into the touch and his thumb grazed across her cheek, wiping away the evidence of her weakness.

“Luv?” he questioned softly. His voice was honey in the night air, rich and smooth, thick with emotion. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what to do.”

‘Stay with me,’ her mind screamed. ‘Stay and help me. Fight beside me when I’m strong, hold me when I’m weak. Just stay.’ She shook her head against the thought. She couldn’t invite him back in - not into her house, her fight, or her life. His soul was gone and all that remained was the monster, the monster that hurt her.

With a choked sob, she turned and fled into the house
…………………..

“Faith,” Dawn whispered as she approached the dark Slayer, who smoked a cheap cigarette on the bottom step of the basement.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Faith responded in kind. “What’s up?”

“I know where Caleb’s hiding out, but I can’t tell Buffy, because she’ll go all Gestapo on me. She’ll ask me how I know and I can’t tell her.” She looked at the slayer, eyes wide and hopeful. “I thought maybe you could tell her for me.”

“Hey, slow down.” Faith raised her hand as she stood. “How the hell do you know this shit? If you’ve been out scouting on your own, B’s gonna—“

“I haven’t, okay?” Exasperation made her voice harsh. “I’m not that stupid.” Faith’s unconvinced look drained her impatience and she tilted her head back to study the ceiling before continuing. “Can’t you just say you beat it outta some demon?” she pleaded.

“Yeah, I could, but how’d I know your info’s good? Don’t wanna be leading the wannabes into a trap, ya know.”

Dawn took a deep breath. “Promise not to tell?” she asked. Faith nodded and she continued. “Spike told me. He’s been digging around the demon world. Caleb and a load of those creepy bringer guys are camped out at the vineyard across town. He says—“

“Woah, man,” Faith interrupted with a disbelieving shake of her head. “You got this shit from Spike? Vampire Spike, that gave your sis that lovely shiner she’s sporting.”

“She totally started it, she’s so hung up on the soul. But Spike’s trying to help, and he found out where Caleb is, didn’t he?” She didn’t wait for an answer before ploughing on. “Spike says we can’t just go barging in. Caleb’s way too strong. He thinks you and Buffy should do recon - maybe Willow, too - but keep the potentials out of it.”

“You trust him?” She eyed the younger girl carefully, knowing she’d been right with her initial observation that the brat kid was gone, but that didn’t necessarily mean she could trust her judgement on this.

“With my life.” The answer came so swiftly, so emphatically, that Faith found herself nodding her consent.

“All right.” She propped herself against the washing machine and raised and eyebrow at the younger girl. “Let’s hear it, then.”
…………...................


A/N The previous chapter had exactly zero reviews, that nought, nothing, zip, none. Bear pouted until her lip hurt and stamped her paws.

The chapter did however have hits so I assume people are reading, if this story is going wrong let me know, if not keep reading and I'll keep posting.

Reviews are of course optional but greatly appreciated.





You must login (register) to review.