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IDENTITY CRISIS

*Heather Martin*

Disclaimer- I do NOT own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This is a story with characters created by Joss Whedon. I am only borrowing them.

Spoilers- This will have many spoilers. It occurs after Wrecked, and will refer to everything before that also. But mostly, Fool for Love.

Summary- A spell has a far greater impact than Willow or Spike counted on. The vampire is split into two separate embodiments: the demon and William. But there’s still Spike, who has to decide who he really is, the demon or the man. And time is running out.

“Poor Spikey! Can’t be a human, can’t be a vampire.” ~Wrecked
But what if he had a choice?

Chapter 7- Trapped

Buffy finally stopped crying. She was spooned against him, his arm around her slender form. They lay in silence, breathing in the other’s scent. Time had no meaning.

Buffy ran her fingers over his chest. She reveled in the feel of the tight muscles.

“So, pet, where are those crosses you spoke of?” Spike asked, breaking the quiet.

She looked confused for a second, then it was gone. “Oh, I took those down, and the garlic,” she informed.

He smirked at her. “Garlic?”

Buffy turned her gaze away. “Yeah.”

“You really thought that was necessary?”
“I guess.”

He rolled ontop of her. He grabbed her arms, pinning them over her head. “Trying to keep me away?”

A grin appeared on her mouth. “Not anymore.”

Spike crushed his lips on hers. Their tongues circled, hungrily. His hand slid under her shirt, desire filling his being.

Buffy grabbed his strayed hand. She met his gaze. “I want to, really. But Dawn and Willow are here. Not to mention William.”

The vocalization of his name sent them rushing back to reality. They had problems that needed to be corrected. The demon and William were still separate embodiments. And Spike was, well. . . wasting away.

Buffy sniffled, having the urge to sob once more.

He brushed her hair back. “Don’t, luv, please don’t cry again. It tears me apart.”

She shut her eyes, getting a hold of herself. She was strong, the slayer. And slayers turned their sorrow into anger. And anger was solved by killing.

In a swift motion, she wriggled from beneath him, and off the bed. “I’m going patrolling,” she stated quickly.

Spike glanced over at the window. It was night. They had spent hours laying there?

“Ok. I’ll. . . think about things while you’re away.”

An understanding stare passed between them.

Buffy rummaged under her bed. She found three stakes, pulling them out. She took her leather jacket from the closet, putting it on, then stuffed the weapons in the pockets.

Before leaving, she looked at Spike. Her face was expressionless. “Don’t disappear while I’m gone.” Without waiting for a reply, she went out.

++++++++

Buffy strolled through the graveyard. It was a dull night, hardly any vampires. She’d only gotten the privilege to stake one pathetic fledgling. That hadn’t satisfied her bottled up emotions. Not by a long shot.

Out of the shadows, came a figure. She raised her stake, ready for action.

“Put that away, slayer. We know you’ll never get anywhere with that thing.”

Buffy recognized that voice. The same British tone as her Spike.

The demon stepped forward. He flicked his cigarette to the side.

Buffy lowered her stake. “I can’t dust you, but I can hurt you.”

She swung at him. He moved out of her aim.

“Spike will merge with William and you’ll be history!” she shouted as she kicked him in the stomach.

He laughed. His hand came out and clasped her arm, twisting it. She whimpered.

He whispered in her ear,” Oh, I doubt that. Spike is not a weakling. He’ll choose darkness over light in order to keep his power.”

The demon thrust her to the ground. Her head hit a tombstone. She hissed in pain. A gash came to her forehead.

He knelt next to her. He grasped her head, harshly. “You will be mine, little girl.”

Then he smashed her head back against the concrete grave-marker. This time blackness engulfed her.

+++++++++

Spike cried out as the pain shot through him. It pulsed up and down his entire body. After what seemed like forever, which was actually only two minutes, it subsided. He relaxed, breathing hard from the encounter.

The door flew open. Willow popped in. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah, just another attack. It’s over, though.”

She nodded. “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She left.

He fell back on the pillow, exhausted. Something had to be done, and fast.





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