CHAPTER TWO
--
Spike woke with an agonized groan as the sun was rising. He thought a distinct, ‘bugger me’, then dragged himself as far as he could – behind the nearest dumpster – to shield his very sensitive vampire flesh from dusting. Once in the minimal shade, and not caring about the distinct stench of urine, he promptly passed out again.
A few hours after sunset Spike woke slowly, his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as the fogginess between unconsciousness and wakefulness left him. He didn’t move at first, taking in his surroundings. His memories came back sluggishly. He tried to raise his head but quickly let it drop back to the ground with an unhealthy smack. The agonizing burning was gone but left in its wake was an aching pain that clawed throughout his whole body, leaving no spot of respite. He breathed in a sharp breath between his clenched teeth. Fuck he hurt. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his unlife and then some more.
He lay on the hard cement for over a half hour before he attempted to sit up. Spike was, after all, no stranger to pain. In his fledging years Spike realized very quickly that when one lived under the reign of Angelus one would have to learn very quickly how to compartmentalize pain so he wouldn’t go mad.
Very slowly and carefully he grabbed onto the side of the dumpster and pulled himself up into a sitting position. His breath came in quick gasps as pain raced through his joints. Breathing, while a useless commodity to vampires, had always managed to soothe Spike in moments of high emotion – such as extensive pain. He leaned back into the wall behind him and closed his eyes, willing his breathing to become long and measured.
A moment later Spike’s eyes snapped open. What the buggering hell …?
His demon was snarling. Spike could feel its raw, red hot rage. Consequently, Spike felt a familiar sweet rush of adrenaline but he didn’t know why his demon was so furious. Puzzled, Spike looked up and down the alley but he found it empty except for himself. His demon howled as Spike tried to comprehend why …
Tap, tap, tap.
Spike froze, his breathing stilled. His demon roared in anguish.
Tap, tap, tap.
He could feel something. Heavy. In his chest. Something he hadn’t realized was there because the pain had numbed him to everything else. Something that certainly hadn’t been there last night.
As though it had been waiting for that moment when he acknowledged it, Spike felt it smile. Smile? He frowned. What the bleeding hell was going on here? He focused on the weight and felt it hum with pleasure at the attention. His demon keened in discontentment. Pushing the demon back, Spike concentrated inwardly, he mentally pressed against the foreign weight. It felt warm, welcoming. Without thinking he pressed more of himself against it. It – whatever it was – cuddled against him like a warm blanket. It felt wonderful. Like home.
Spike ripped himself away from it. He instantly missed the loss of warmth and he also felt its great displeasure and hurt at being so suddenly pushed away. He shook his head then winced at the movement. What the hell had those demons done to him?
He felt the warm weight tentatively reach out to him again, but he hurriedly set up a mental block, not letting it past. He felt it recoil in confusion and Spike immediately felt guilty.
Guilty? What?
Spike never felt guilty. Not ever. He’d lived (or unlived if you wanted to get technical) over a century promoting mayhem and pain and death (and not always in that order). He’d bathed in the blood of countless victims and delighted in it. Not once had he ever felt a twinge of conscience. He was a vampire and thus acted accordingly.
But he couldn’t deny the gnawing guilt lying in his belly. It was a strange nauseating feeling.
What the bleeding hell happened?
--
It was near sunrise when Spike fell through the front door of the factory and collapsed on the front landing. Groaning and swearing viciously he struggled to stand up again.
“My poor, sweet William.”
Spike looked up at Drusilla. She stared down at him with eyes brimming full of tears. Her voice was a mere whisper, “I warned my dark prince. But no, he followed the road in search of answers.”
Spike stood shakily leaning against the wall. “Give a hand, pet?”
The vampires clutched at her doll. “I fear you are lost, my William. I do not think I can save you.”
Exhausted, Spike sighed deeply. “All you gotta do is help me to bed, love.”
Drusilla hesitantly stretched out a hand towards him then quickly grabbed it back. “Ooh … burns it does.”
Spike, feeling his consciousness slipping from him, mumbled, “Dru … please …”
Before he passed out he heard her murmur, “My William was always full of stars.”
--
Later, when he woke in the bed he and Drusilla shared, he opened his eyes to find Drusilla staring at him unblinkingly. Her eyes were wide and dark, but she didn’t seem to notice he had regained consciousness.
Spike’s stomach grumbled in hunger. “Pet?” His voice was scratchy and strained.
“How shiny you are. Sparkling, like snow on a summer day.”
Spike cautiously sat up, pleased when he only felt mild discomfort at the movement. “Shiny, love?”
She reached out towards his chest, but stopped her hand a breath away. Her eyes held awed curiosity. “It shines like the sun but yet it does not burn.”
Spike stilled. He had almost forgotten about the weight in his chest. Once he thought about it he felt it expand its warmth. Alarmed, Spike mentally blocked it off. It balked at his mental barrier backing off with puzzled unhappiness. He studiously ignored that he was interpreting emotions of a foreign weight in his chest. “You can see … whatever it is, pet?”
“Scorches my eyelids, it does.”
Spike licked his lips. “What is it, Dru?”
Drusilla sat back, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment. “The stars natter at me. Many different paths, but only one to take. Which one. Which one. I do not know.” She brought a hand up to his head and brushed away a few blonde curls. “My poor prince.”
Spike tried to pick the meaning behind her cryptic words but quickly gave up when the effort brought a sharp pain behind his eyes. Sighing, Spike leaned his head against the headboard. “Paths, pet?”
“Stars. My prince full of stars. Burning so bright. So bright.” She watched him with troubled eyes. “The wheels turn. The stars whisper their secrets and his princess knows. She knows.”
“What’s this, pet? Did the demons put a hex on me?”
Drusilla only shook her head empathetically, tears streaming down her cheeks. Abruptly she stood, backing away from the bed.
“Where are you going, Dru?”
A choked sob was his only response.
Spike tried to stand but he fell back onto the bed before his feet touched the floor. The pain that had felt mild only a moment before seemed to return ten-fold. Groaning he whimpered out to Drusilla. But she was already gone.
--
“You haven’t gone to Buffy with this, have you?”
Angel shook his head. “I thought I’d let you know first. See what your take on it is.”
Giles tipped back his tumbler swallowing the last finger of scotch. “I think we should leave it at that for right now. No need to worry her over something that might not even happen.”
Angel studied the watcher for a moment. “It’s not a question of if, Giles.”
Giles looked up at the vampire, an eyebrow raised. “You don’t even know what it means.”
Angel looked away. “I may not know exactly what it means. But I know it’s bad.”
“All you’ve told me is that you’ve ‘sensed’ something through your vampire line. You don’t know what it is. Forgive me for being skeptical.”
“You don’t understand. After I got my soul I cut off my connection from them. I haven’t felt or sensed anything in over a century. I don’t know why, or how, but that connection was crossed. The only reason I can think of is that they’re planning something terrible.”
Giles reiterated mildly, “But you don’t know what that something is.”
Angel raked a hand through his hair. “No, I don’t. But Giles, what I felt wasn’t like anything I’ve felt through my line before.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just an accident on your part? Maybe the connection wasn’t as cut as you thought?”
Angel’s jaw hardened. “I will always have a connection to them; there is no way around that except death. But it was nothing like that. I know they’re up to something.”
“Are you positive?”
“This was not a mistake on my part.” Angel replied stubbornly.
Giles sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s say you’re right. What can I do about it?”
Angel paused a moment. “At the moment - nothing. At least until either something happens or I figure out what’s going on. I thought you’d want to know.”
“And I appreciate it.” Giles stood. “And if you don’t mind, beings of the living variety usually sleep at this time.”
Before closing his front door Giles softly called out to the vampire. Angel looked back with a questioning glance.
“Let’s keep this from Buffy for the time being. At least until we have for information.”
Angel’s jaw tightened slightly, but his response was a single nod.
--
Buffy grabbed the vampire by the waist and flipped him over her head. In a flash she had a stake out and plunged into the vampire’s chest. Wiping dust off her hands she grimaced at the smears on her pants.
“Major ew.”
“Buffy.”
The vampire slayer jumped. Clutching a hand to her chest she turned. “God, Angel. You scared me.”
Angel looked at her with sorrowful eyes. “Sorry.”
Buffy waved her index finger. “Didn’t we have a talk about this stalking thing?”
“I don’t stalk … I follow at a leisurely pace.”
Buffy smiled impishly. “I forgive you.” She leaned in and kissed him. He smiled down at her briefly before matching his stride to hers. Two fledglings later Buffy looked up at Angel curiously.
“Are you okay?”
Angel glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“You’re all with the tense-ness.”
He looked away. “I’m fine.”
“Angel …”
Angel sighed. “It’s nothing, Buffy. Really. Don’t worry about it.”
Buffy chewed her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”
“Buffy,” Angel said sharply.
Buffy threw up her hands. “Fine. Geez, you don’t have to get pissed off.”
“No,” he pointed behind her, “vampires.”
A couple hours later found Buffy walking home alone. Angel begged off because he had something secret to do. Not that he said it was secret, but with all his evasiveness he might as well have. Buffy thought he really just wanted to get away from her so she wouldn’t start asking him more questions.
It’s not that she minded that Angel kept some things from her – she knew everyone had their secrets, but sometimes … sometimes …
Buffy stopped outside her bedroom window and sighed. Climbing up the familiar, sturdy tree she glided back the well-oiled window and slid into her room soundlessly. She made quick work of getting ready for bed. Slipping between her cool sheets Buffy turned to face her window. The leaves on her tree fluttered in the light wind creating dancing shadows across her bedroom floor.
--
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hello readers! Thanks soo much to everyone who reviewed, it means a lot to me : ) I wanted to clarify something that I'm doing with this story ... something different that I think will become pretty evident with this chapter (I hope) Spike isn't going to be all: "Blimey, I got a soul!" the instant he has it. He actually won't know for a bit that he does ... I hope this isn't too far-fetched of an idea. And just so you know, Buffy and Angel squig me out so do not be worried readers! But that's not to say I'm gonna totally bad mouth Angel ... I think he's actually a good character ... but I'll stop here before I give more of my plot away :).....UPDATE: hello all!! I just wanted to make a note here that I've had a beta, the fantastic Kat, look over this story. So I've edited all the chapters I've previously posted for this story : )