[Reviews - 29]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 3340 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
A huge thank you to Immortal_Beloved. I wouldn't be posting this at all if it wasn't for her.

Disclaimer: Of course, none of BtVS, characters and all, belong to me.
Spike was laughing.

It was a rough, croaky, humourless sound, but it was clearly laughter. It echoed through the basement, cutting into the silence.

But then the laughter stopped, and turned into a choking cough that made his whole body shake. His face contorted in pain as the movement opened up the wounds on his chest and back, and blood spilled down onto the worn grey sheets.

"Huh, well that's bloody ironic innit?" Spike managed to say when he finished coughing, wincing only slightly as he pushed himself up so that he was leaning against the wall. The stone felt hard and cold against his back. He looked over at Buffy, where she stood staring at him.

"Ironic? Not really the word I would've used," Buffy replied, watching him. This hadn’t been the reaction she’d been expecting, and a glance to her friends behind her told her that they were equally as surprised.

They were all gathered around him as if he were some close family member on his deathbed, yet there were no looks of grief on their faces. Instead, they sat nervously with looks of shock, boredom and a little nostalgia.

"Poetic then," Spike murmured as a reply, running a shaky hand through his hair. It was poetic justice in it’s finest. Poetry. With that thought, Spike got the strange feeling that life had come full circle. He coughed out another half laugh, wincing once more as pain shot through him at the movement.

"You understand what I'm saying Spike?" Buffy asked him, stepping slightly closer. "This poison's going to kill you." There was no menace or anger in her voice, but no unhappiness either. She spoke purely with the intent to make him understand, because his reaction didn’t feel right to her.

Spike snapped at her, "I got it Slayer," but his expression remained neutral. He wasn’t lying; he understood. This was the end. "Poison, Killer of the dead, only one cure," he listed off, shortening what she had just told him. "So how long?" His eyes darted around the room, waiting to settle on whoever held the answer.

He’d never been afraid of death. Most vampires fool themselves into thinking they are invincible, but never him.

“If you’re looking for fun, there’s death, glory and sod all else, right?”

"A day maybe, two if you’re lucky," Giles said, unsurprisingly speaking up before Buffy could. He moved further towards Spike, where he sat on the cot in Buffy's basement, and stood next to his slayer. "According to the records, your condition will deteriorate rapidly towards the end, your temperature will rise and you may experience hallucinations." His mind flashed back to Angel. "Then, as your temperature continues to rise, you will eventually..." He trailed off but Spike finished the sentence for him.

"Burn." He hadn’t needed to be told. He could already feel the heat inside him, itching to consume him.

Giles nodded. "From the inside out." He paused. "The only cure is... to drain the blood of a Slayer." He spoke calmly, his voice lacking any feeling, but when he spoke of the cure his eyes got darker and his voice firmer, his attempt to indicate to Spike that it definitely wasn’t an option.

"Of course it is," Spike muttered, that fact being the very thing that had made him laugh earlier. The 'Slayer of Slayers' now needed slayer blood to save him. If that wasn't proof that someone higher up must be messing with him, he didn't know what was.

After another moment of tense silence, Spike nodded thoughtfully and once more surprised them all.

"Right then," he said, his voice determined. He slowly twisted his legs down and his body around so that he sat sideways on the cot. Then he began to push himself up, ignoring the sharp white-hot pain rushing through him. He fought through it.

At his movement, Willow, Tara and Xander also all stood up, unsure of what was going on. Giles took a quick step towards Buffy and ended up standing slightly in front of her, in a protective stance.

Buffy was the only one who didn’t react. She stood still, watching the vampire, frozen in place, waiting for something to indicate what was coming.

Spike looked up at them all with their slightly fearful expressions and noticed Giles' forward stance.

"Oh calm down,” he told them, inwardly rolling his eyes. “I look like I'm in any state to get in a fight with her?" he asked, eyebrow raised perfectly over a swollen eye.

At least they all had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Not like I even want to," Spike added under his breath, and then half-growled as he slipped back down to a seated position.

"So what are you doing?" Giles asked suspiciously, watching him carefully.

No one moved to help.

"Getting out of this basement.” He once more began to push himself up. “I'd rather be outside for this, and I need a fag." The statement ended in another choking cough, but Spike fought through it and managed to finally get himself to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he forced his legs to work. They protested, more pain, more heat. He ignored it.

"Outside for what?" Willow spoke up when no one else seemed like they were going to. They were all suitably confused.

Spike looked to Buffy and stared in her eyes. She met his gaze fully and something passed between them. She wasn't sure how, but she knew in that moment what he was going to ask of her. She nodded, before he even said anything.

"How far?" She asked quietly, trying to come to terms with it. She wasn't sure what she felt about this.

"Just outside'll do," Spike told her, and Buffy nodded again.

"Does anyone want to fill us in on what's going on?" Xander asked before silence threatened to settle once more. He wasn't sure why he was even there; he didn't much care. Although he could feel bad for Spike, he wouldn't shed a tear over his being gone.

Spike didn't answer. Instead, he began to make his way up the stairs, struggling with each step. He felt too hot, and he hated it. His head was thumping, and his body hurt all over, a dull ache from the poison mixed with stinging from his wounds from Glory. The heat was the worst, he decided. Pain, he could deal with. He had been in pain before. But this heat… It wasn’t a gentle heat that warmed your insides. No, this was burning, white hot flames eating away at him.

Only once Spike had made it up the stairs and the door began to swing close behind him, did Buffy answer Xander’s question.

"I'm going to stake Spike," she said finally, emotionless.

Then she turned and followed the vampire upstairs.





You must login (register) to review.