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chapter eight – words

“Thing about dyin' Slayer,” Spike began slowly. “After a while you accept it, and deal with being dead.”

He had walked out of Angel's office immediately after. For the second time in two days, Fred had fainted. He was worried about her. But Angel was taking care of her and that was good. What was bad was that he'd been left in the office with two nervous women, and a pissed off slayer. Spike had no desire to wait for Angel to return. Not with Buffy, Willow and the bint, Lillie, glaring at him and expecting answers. He didn't have any answers. Not about the Seven Wiccas or about why Fred had blacked out. He didn't have any bloody idea why the Powers That Be were playing games with their lives, or his un-life, in particular. So he'd walked out. Still, he should have been prepared for her to follow him. That was his Buffy. You couldn't just walk away from her. At least he didn't think he could. There was always a first time, though. Turned out, this wasn't it.

“I've died many times in ways, shit, ways I never thought existed,” he continued, with as little sarcasm as possible. “Fact is Buffy, you killed me, thousands of times. When you smiled, when you cried, when you whispered my name while we made love. No. When I made love to you.” He recognized that his voice sounded bitter; he hadn't planned that – the bitterness.

Spike was leaning against the wall just inside Wes' office, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his duster. It was difficult, standing there so still. He had to control his craving to pace back and forth in the narrow space. But there wasn't enough room for a major league hike in Wes' small office. So instead, he stood immobile inside the entranceway, looking at Buffy with the calmest, most detached look on his face he could muster. He figured that if he kept stock-still, his features impassive, he'd be able to avoid ruining his well thought out plan. Whatever that was, he wondered for an instant. Then again, he'd always known what he wanted from Buffy. He just had to be willing to say it.

“No stake required just you, and the words, the smiles and the tears. That's how it happened. That's how you killed me, over, and over again, luv.”

“What are you talking about?” Buffy was agitated. “The last year before you – died, I thought things had changed between us.”

He could feel her frustration, pouring from her gaze as she spoke. “You've been back two years and not one call, not one message, nothing but a damn dream.”

“T'was real you know,” he said, trying hard to hide the hurt he felt with her words.

“Was it?” she asked.

“Yeah, it was. For me, very real. But if you didn't feel it.” Spike's voice wavered. “Oh shit, luv, why are you here? Why did you leave Paris ?”

“I had to see you.”

Taking two big strides, Spike moved closer to Buffy, arms stretched wide. He spoke in a menacing tone, “Okay, here I am. Take a good look.”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Buffy said, evenly.

Spike's arms dropped to his sides.

“In Sunnydale I realized things hadn't really changed between us…when I saw you with Angel…”

“That didn't mean anything,” she protested.

”Right, you said that,” he paused. “Still, no matter how eloquent my speeches. No matter how much I swore my selfless devotion…” Spike stopped again, and sucked in an unneeded breath. His courage was ebbing. Was he really saying these things to Buffy? Yeah, he was. And now that he'd started, he meant to finish.

“This soul, I got it for you.”

“Spike, we've been over this.”

“No, luv. Actually, we haven't.” It was getting harder to keep the weariness out of his voice, he thought, as he stepped closer to Buffy. “In the Hellmouth, you asked me to leave; you said we'd pushed it back…but why didn't I leave Buffy?”

“I dunno. You didn't believe me when I said I loved you...” Unexpectedly, she sounded confused, almost frightened.

“Nah, that's not why I stayed,” His eyes did not waver from hers as he spoke. “I stayed for me, Buffy. Was my time, Slayer. Time for me to accept death. Accept what I am.”

“What's that?” She said, closing the gap between them while reaching up to touch…

“No!” He flinched, and turned away from her. “I'm dead, and have been for more than a hundred and twenty years. Time for me to rest, Buffy.”

“No,” she whispered.

“I was dyin' Buffy, and it was okay with me,” he said slowly,

“Okay, Spike, I get that. But you're back, and we are here now. Right?”

He didn't answer.

“Spike you aren't going anywhere again, right? I just traveled half way round the world to see you. I don't care about these freaking Wiccas. I came here – to see you.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Buffy, please.”

“Spike, promise me. Please, don't leave me again.”

Her lips were on his now. Kissing him. Buffy held his face in her hands; caressing it; touching his brow, his eyes, and his mouth. Spike kept his hands at his sides, but he leaned into her body with his own, molding himself against her.

“I know what you are,” she spoke, her lips hot against his. “I've always known. It took me a long time, but I accept you for what you are, and I meant it when I said it. I love you.”

He wanted to wrap his arms around her, and show her all of the desire his soul and demon possessed. But he didn't. He pulled away from Buffy, out of her reach.

Then suddenly, there was a loud noise in the hallway. They both turned toward the doorway.

“Buffy, Buffy!” It was Willow, screaming.


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Right after Spike and Buffy left Angel's office, it began. Lillie didn't understand it at first but she recognized the words of the voice. The only thing that was unusual was that for the first time, it kept repeating the same phrase. “Find it! Find it!” Not the routine interactive conversation she was accustomed to at all – this wasn't a dialogue. These were instructions. She just needed to figure out what she should be looking for.

“Something's not right here,” Lillie said, glancing around the office. "Where'd Spike and Buffy go? Are they coming back? Did they leave us here? Alone?” Lillie wondered for the first time if perhaps Willow was hearing the voices, too. She was looking intense and frantic.

“What are you talking about?" Willow snapped. “Stop it, you're distracting me. I need to concentrate.” Willow was ransacking Angel's office – opening drawers, looking in cabinets, tossing stacks of paper all about. She was looking for something. Yeah, thought Lillie, she'd heard them.

“Are you looking for something?” Willow's head spun as she turned to glare at Lillie, and that's when Lillie saw them. Her eyes were blazing black – two huge darkened irises filled with blood and ashes.

“I know Angel kept it. I know it's here, and I've got to find it.”

“What's here?” Lillie backed away from Willow, nervously scanning the room in search of the doorway through which she could run.

“It's a ring Angel gave Buffy years ago,” said Willow.

“Well, why would he keep a ring in his office? If he still has it, he probably put it away someplace else, like his apartment.” Lillie had stopped, and faced Willow . The voices were loud, and getting louder. They were screaming at her, telling her what to say.

“Why do you want the ring Willow?”

“It helped Angel return from hell.”

“You can't have it!” Lillie shouted. “And you aren't meant to have it. I am!”

“Who are you?” Willow 's voice sounded like steam in a thunderstorm to Lillie. “I am your sister, Strange, and I am the third Wicca,” she grinned. “Before Charm, and after our queen and you, I am the one who comes and goes, and moves most easily through time and dimensions. I was sent to this dimension long ago to wait.”

“For what?” Willow asked.

“For you and Color,” she said. “I've waited for both of you. The earth's princess of witches and the first slayer. You were chosen to join me in hearing the voices of the Wiccans of the L'Quaratong.”

“You know, I'm not one to be chosen. And I definitely am not interested in hearing any Wiccans or the words of Wiccans from another dimension. Enough witches right here to keep me busy.” Willow was bouncing on the balls of her feet, obviously searching for an opening. But for what, wondered Lillie.

“You were chosen before time began and you've already heard the voices. Otherwise, how did you know about the ring?” Lillie said, a full smile sketched across her face.

“You are chosen without a choice,” she added. “The voices are coming. You will hear them. You will listen. Or you and and Buffy will be swallowed by the Noise.”

“No we won't,” Willow said, and then almost to herself she mumbled. “I can stop you.”

“No. Actually, you can't.”


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