[Reviews - 1]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2050 times

- Text Size +




**1 written by Lord Byron. **2 written by Algernon Charles Swinburne. Neither one of them mine!!

A/N: Thanks for reading. Really makes me feel good to know that someone is reading and I would really love to hear any of your comments-- let me know how I'm really doing on this story. It would be very much appreciated.

**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

"What!?" Buffy stood, looking perplexed and slightly annoyed. "How can you say…after all these years? After all you've…that we've..."

"BUFFY!" Giles roared loud enough to make everyone, including Spike, twitch in their seats and turn their attention to him. Buffy, a mask of anger and hurt evident on her face, looked at him incredulously.

"Enough," he crooned more gently, "please, do sit down and let's discuss the matter without anymore outbursts."

She looked away, not at anyone in particular as she pulled her chair back up and sat down. Spike looked displeased and exasperated. The ridiculousness of it all, he thought as he sat there stiffly trying his best not to utter a word while Giles pondered the situation even though he felt like he was being scrutinized under a microscope by everyone in the room. He was evil; well, okay, not so much now, or he wouldn't be sitting there amongst seven human beings, eating pig's blood and beef stroganoff in their company. He knew it and he knew they knew it so no use in trying to be incorrigible anymore. In fact, he could feel the niggling sincerity and affection in his undead and cold heart for every human sitting in the dining room, whether you could call it love or just a strong like. He could really feel it; must be the soul. Bloody thing. That was something else he would have to debate with himself when he was alone. Giles was speaking now, so he cut the conversation off in his head for the time being.

"So, there seems to be something amiss here and we are going to find out what it is or what we can do about this misconception."

"Apparently," he paused for dramatic effect only while holding his hand towards Spike, "Spike has had some readjustments to his thoughts and memories. It could have happened from the spell, but all my bets point towards The First as the miscreant. From what you both have relayed back to me about the final minutes in the hellmouth, I have concluded that The First somehow surreptitiously appropriated Spike's memories of his actual feelings for Buffy in a momentary coup de grace. It was, I believe, trying to vie for the upper hand, attempting to remain in control and reign over the warriors, allowing you to be kept separate from one another in one way or the other. Believing one of you would actually kill the other, thereby making it all the easier for It to take over the Earth. Maybe It knows more about the two of you than you, or we, actually know about the two of you, though I find that highly unlikely, what with all the research and several prophecies pertaining to you both to boot.”

"And for those of us who don't have a pocket dictionary, I'm thinking, huh?" Xander put on his confused face.

"He's saying that…", Buffy's line of sight traveled slowly up so it was resting in Spike's eyes, which looked on at her with heartfelt sorrow and discord. "The First, during our, Spike's and my, battle for dominance, was ticked off because only one of us was making it seem like we were really fighting. That's what It said, ‘it wasn't a fight’. It was angry and decided to up the odds of death by taking something precious away." Buffy began to cry, uncontrollable tears sliding down her cheeks.

"It took his heart, one of his very core aspects, the one that made him love me without a soul," she whispered. She quickly stood and ran from the room, taking the stairs two at a time and slamming her bedroom door shut.

Spike stood abruptly, eyes wide with confusion, debating on whether to follow her. Everyone was staring at him, making him once again feel the culprit in this crazy, messed up circumstance. He couldn't look at any of them, and he didn't think it would really be wise to talk to Buffy just yet. What would he say to her anyway? So he slowly sat back down and looked up at the ceiling clenching his teeth in frustration, trying to regain some composure in front of the masses.

"Well, what now?" he was really asking anybody for an answer. "How do we fix this, cause apparently The First is up to something. We all know it now. Like you said, Giles, it's trying to keep an invisible barrier between two of the strongest warriors in this war; two, if I do recall, that share something that can destroy It and It's plans of tyranny. Well, could, before I lost…I remember the prophecy of the final battle, the apocalypse. Angel and myself, fighting on either side of the slayer. You think it's trying to change the prophecy? Well of course it is, trying to get the advantage like you said, trying to keep control so it has at least a fighting chance to win and take over the world. Should we call Angel in on this, find out if they know anything over there?"

"That might be wise," Giles nodded an affirmation.

"I know, I just can't believe I suggested it. Me, suggesting bringing in Angel, the poufter. Of all things evil." Spike rolled his eyes and huffed.

Xander, who happened to be sitting next to him, slapped him on the back and showed his lovably goofy grin. "Don't worry, blondie, we've all had our share of repulsion of the mousse prince."

He looked around at the others, still smiling, eyebrows raised. "See, see, I can use big words, too."

Spike sighed and interrupted Xander's moment of pride, "I highly believe he uses hair gel and not mousse and what's your point, nimrod?"

He looked at the vampire, brows furrowed this time. "My point being, it will be easier to deal with Angel with all of us having to deal with him. Get it? Besides, it's not like he's going to have to come to Sunnydale for this. Call him up, ask him what's the haps, see if he can maybe shed some light on the matter."

Everyone sat quietly, waiting for a declaration or decision. The phone rang shrilly, cutting the silence in the room in half and finding everyone on edge as they all noticeably jumped at the first ring. Too much tension floating throughout the house.

"I'll get it," Dawn offered as she hurriedly retrieved the ringing phone. A second later, she was hollering for Giles.

As Dawn and Giles exchanged rooms, Spike spoke to the others without the watcher hovering over them.

"So…any thoughts, suggestions from the peanut gallery? I'm at a loss."

"You really don't love Buffy anymore?" Dawn asked him, quietly. "Do you hate her?”

"No, no, bit. Nothing like that. Just not feeling any warm fuzzies, that's all. I…I just don't remember anything, not a blasted thing that dealt with her and me. Do I really want to?" He looked at them expectantly.

Willow blushed a bit. "Well, there may be a few things you don't want to know, or want to remember. We might just selectively keep those certain memories out of the fray for the time being."

"Yeah, like the sex they were having behind everyone's back and he…"

"Anya, really not the greatest of timing with this." Xander reprimanded his girlfriend.

Willow cleared her throat and continued on. "Do you remember, the night before you went into the hellmouth, what I told you? What Tara warned me about?"

Spike tilted his head, thinking hard. "Something about I wouldn't have to die to save Buffy, that I needed to hold onto my soul and…and my…"

His eyes widened as something clicked in his head. "…and my heart. I was supposed to hold onto my heart."

Spike rolled his eyes, falling forward so that his forehead hit the table with a thud. Megan chuckled to herself though her heart was breaking for the vampire. His actions were a cute attempt at being exasperated, a humanesque attribute. She just wanted to hug him and tell him everything would work out.

"God," Spike groaned, "this is absolutely ridiculous." He rolled his head to the side, his cheek resting on the table so that he was now looking at them watching him. He realized he probably looked silly, not anything like the big bad he always made himself out to be. Oh, well, hell if he cared anymore. Apparently they didn't. Apparently there was more about him to make these humans seem genuine in their affections toward him than he really remembered. They seemed to care about him and his feelings; he could see it in all their faces. Maybe a good night's sleep would refresh the past for him and his relationship with all of them.

"I've failed…once again. I'm such a bleeding wanker." he mumbled, making everyone feel even more sorry for him, wanting to help out anyway they could. "God, this soul really sucks, I feel really bad. Buffy shouldn't have to go through this. Especially if she loves…wait a minute." Spike lifted his head up.

"She's never, ever told me she loves me…has she? I mean, from what I can remember she…but then I wouldn't remember if I had those specific memories taken away." He stood, shaking his head, beginning to pace the floor next to the table. He stopped and looked at the group in front of him, who was eyeing him the whole time.

"Has she ever told any of you? That she loves me, I mean," he asked earnestly. Xander, Megan and Anya shook their heads no but Willow and Dawn looked at one another. Spike noticed the exchange instantly.

"Red, Bit? What is it? Has she ever said anything to me or to either one of you? Please?" God, now he was begging but why? It wouldn't change the fact that he wasn't in love with her.

Willow shook her head no as well. "She's never come out and said it, but we've seen things, heard things that make it a strong possibility. I think she was waiting for the right moment. In fact, the night you didn't show up, when she found you at your place beaten up the following morning, she had been happy, excited, told me she was going to talk to you about something serious when you got back. Her exact words were, "It will be monumental for us both." but she never came out and said it to me and I don't know if she ever did to you. I'm sorry."

He sighed and hung his head. "Doesn't really matter, anyway. I don't rightly know where I was going with this in any case."

"Going where with what?" Giles re-entered the dining room.

"Nothing, just trying my best to make excuses. I think I'm going to go to bed, to my cot in the basement. Get some much needed rest and recuperation. I'll see you all tomorrow."

"Wait, I have some news I'd like to share with you before you do. That was Mr. Caulfield on the phone, a Watcher over in England. Well, originally he was in Britain. He was calling from New York. He and Mr. Rogers are here in the states, they have about 15 girls with them, potential slayers, who they've rescued. They are keeping low, in hiding right now. They are being hunted, by the hooded figures you and Buffy have dreamed about. They are trying to make their way to Sunnydale, safety in numbers and they need training. The girls are scared. Caulfield told me he will explain more in detail either when they get here or just before. So, be expecting some houseguests soon."

"Great, what else are we expected to have to deal with in the midst of all this clutter and chaos? Never mind, I really don't want to know. 'Night." Spike sauntered off towards the basement, a black cloud hovering over him the whole way.

Giles turned his gaze upon the others. "Well, I'm guessing we better prepare ourselves for these girls. They won't have a place to stay. I will look into bigger accommodations tomorrow, somewhere close-by. I'm sure from what Caulfield told me, there will be more coming. Seems The First has these girls on their hit list I can only assume. I better fill Buffy in on this. Thank you all for supporting and helping with this unseemly predicament. We'll figure something out. We always do, don't we?"

Everyone smiled and nodded in affirmation, giving Giles a deeper reassurance, before he headed up the stairs to speak to Buffy.

**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Later that evening, Dawn lay sprawled out on her bed on her tummy flipping through pages of a notebook. But it wasn't schoolwork she was pilfering through. No, in fact this particular notebook wasn't even hers, though it was at one time. She stopped on a page for no real reason at all and read, feeling only slightly guilty for doing so.

**1

So, we'll go no more a-roving

So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,

And the day returns too soon,

Yet we'll go no more a-roving

By the light of the moon.

Dawn turned the page and on the other side, she began to read what was written there as well.

**2

Love and Sleep

Lying asleep between the strokes of night

I saw my love lean over my sad bed,

Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,

Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,

Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,

But perfect-coloured without white or red.

And her lips opened amourously, and said-

I wist not what, saving one word-Delight.

And all her face was honey to my mouth,

And all her body pasture to mine eyes;

The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,

The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,

The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs

And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.

Her face flushed as she swiftly closed the notebook. Okay, now she felt the guilt flooding her. Where did he learn to write stuff like this? She could just about guess he wrote them for Buffy and if he did he wouldn't even remember doing so. So, now what to do with it? That was the golden question.

TBC





You must login (register) to review.