[Reviews - 70]
-
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 +




Chapter 3

Spike looked down at the scrap of paper in his hand and then back up at the door in front of him. Number 32. This was the room he'd been seeking. He sucked in a deep breath and stared at the door, listening intently. Quietly he heard what he thought was sobbing coming from inside. His gut twisted at the sound of crying. He hated to see her in pain. It seemed to him that her whole life had been filled with it and he knew that he had caused her more than his own share of that pain.

He sighed. The feelings of regret came crashing back down around him again. Spike knew that he was right before in L.A. He shouldn't be doing this, it would only hurt both of them more. Shaking his head he began to turn around. He eyed the hallway he'd just been walking on, trying to take a step forward. Screw the Powers That Be and that ponce in L.A. he couldn't do this. Couldn't reinsert himself in her life as much as he would like to. It wasn't fair to her and hell it wasn't fair to him. The sobbing grew quieter and he tilted his head listening. No, neither of them would benefit from him just making an appearance here. He wanted to believe that this self-imposed exile she had put herself in was just temporary. After all, it had only been two months and people needed time. He could understand her need for solitude, he'd yearned for it himself when he had first returned. Unfortunately being a ghost trapped against his will in an evil law firm with someone he had hated for a century kind of made that impossible.

That made him stop. He was tired of being a pawn in one way or another. Love's bitch he may be but with all the other things that had tried to run his unlife he was just plain pissed off. The chip, the First, the Powers, Lindsey and the list just kept getting longer. Spike knew that she would feel the same. He knew how much she hated being used for them to achieve whatever it was they were trying to do. Angel's words struck him then how she was never going to finish her calling not even death could release her from it. The woman had done more than enough and now there were others that could do the job for her. He knew that being the slayer was part of who she was but it didn't mean she was the only one now. Anger coursed through his body as he thought about the unfairness of it all. And he was here to make sure that was what happened that she went back to her friends, her calling and the weight of the world on her shoulders. He wanted to hit something, commit a little violence, let off a little steam. His eyes scanned the hallway again. No place to do that here, maybe he'll just run out for a while see what the cemeteries over this Hellmouth were like. See what little beasties he could kill.

He considered it seriously. Spike knew that sooner or later the temptation to see her again would get the better of him whether he wanted it to or not. He knew that was what they had been counting on when they had sent him to her. They were so sure about him wanting to see her. Well he was sure about that but he was sure she wouldn't want to see him. He'd caused her too much hurt and grief these last few years.

That made him pause. The room behind him had gone quiet now. He turned back to face the door again. Faintly he could hear her breathing. Without thinking, he took a step closer to the door his hand raised as if to knock. He caught himself and spread the palm of his hand on the door. What the hell was he doing? He was acting like a bloody poofter doing more brooding than Forehead. Damn Peaches he was helping turn him into a ponce. He was William the Bloody, Spike the scourge of Europe, the Slayer of Slayers. He could do this. He squared his shoulders and set his jaw. His raised hand balled into a fist.

***********

She had been sitting on the bed thinking that maybe she would watch a little TV before calling it a night. The wedding wasn't to take place until tomorrow afternoon and that gave her plenty of time to sit in this stupid hotel room. She knew that this was not of the good. How was she supposed to be here and not talk to everyone? The confrontations scared her. Buffy was willing to guess that every one of them was hurt at her refusal to talk, to see them. That wasn't what she had wanted. She never wanted to hurt them but she couldn't face them anymore.

Buffy wondered when she had known that she was never going to be able to leave the slayer in her behind. Probably when the dreams wouldn't stop; that two-week period before the death of the two men in her life. She had known that it was a slayer dream but she had been too weak to do anything about it until it was too late. Why she had thought the others would understand she didn't know. The last two months were a way for her to come to terms with the fact that they were gone forever. Ironic though it was she was the only woman who could have two men love her that were supposed to be immortal and both of them dead. She bit back the tears she was feeling. Too many tears shed over a fate she couldn't change. She missed them both very much.

Regret was not something she had learned to live with in her twenty-four years. Maybe it was because of all the death around her. She realized that life was too short for so much pain to be the focus of anyone’s life let alone the short one of a slayer. But it was beyond her now. She was too full of regret for the past and too guilty to look at the future with anything but sorrow.

They had never understood. Her friends and her sister that she loved very much could never grasp the concept that she was what she was. The slayer. Screw the others it was her. The part of her that wanted to keep living if only to protect those around her. It was the hard part of her, the one they had referred to as the General, the one that felt nothing but the importance of the mission. The only part of her that didn't die in that alley when he did.

She sobbed then. Living without him was just too hard. He was the only person she had ever met that could reach her. Now she knew no one else could ever touch her soul like he had. She had shed her fair share of tears over his death again but this time it had been different. He had been alive or undead for months before that final battle and he never told her. He didn't want her to know he was there. And that had hurt. It had opened the gates of self-doubt letting it pour into her soul like salt on a fresh wound. What did it mean? Did he not love her anymore? Had she finally pushed him so far that he would rather stay dead to her? The thought was more than she could bear.

Her body was wracked by the sobs escaping her. She knew she shouldn't be thinking of this now. What was done was done. It was too late for anything to change it. The one person she would ever want to be with was gone and it was forever. Buffy took a deep breath trying to get herself under control. It was then that she felt it. Her spidey sense was tingling faintly.
She brushed the tears from her eyes and looked around the room. There was a stake in her bag.

Quietly she got off the bed and walked to the dresser reaching for the stake. Well what had she expected it was a Hellmouth. Moving silently, she walked to the door. Stopping next to it, she placed her empty hand on the knob stake raised. Her mouth formed a straight line of determination and she flung open the door.





You must login (register) to review.