Buffy gasped aloud as she rolled off the bed and hit the ground with a loud thwack. The cool carpet cushioned her fall but she still rubbed her bruised booty tenderly and pouted.
“Can’t the damn Powers spring for air cushions?” she mumbled to herself. She wasn’t in the best mood right now, especially after all the things she’d just been forced to watch.
It was difficult to truly digest exactly what she’d just seen. There were too many thoughts racing around her mind and most of them didn’t seem to be able to form any kind of coherency. The Slayer climbed wearily to her feet trying not to think about what she’d already seen or what she was still to see. The images of the past raised so many questions and answered none.
At least they answered none that she was prepared to confront and deal with right now.
With a heavy sigh, she brushed herself down and rolled her stiff joints. She felt like she’d just finished a slay-heavy patrol and every single part of her ached.
Including her heart.
Of course, the achiness in her heart increased when she heard the clock chime once again. With trepidation she realized that it was time for the second of the three ghosts that Faith had warned her about. Even after meeting the relatively tame first spirit, she was still worried about the two others, keeping constantly on her guard.
The sound of deep, rumbling laughter startled her as it penetrated her consciousness and Buffy quickly realized that it was coming from downstairs. With agility that belied her tiredness, she bounded down the stairs, blinking when she saw the huge man who was literally filling the living room with his presence.
The spirit in front of her was gargantuan to say the least. He was attired in forest green clothes and a burgundy robe with tiny sprigs of holly adorning his shirt. His long red beard hung down from his chubby face and was almost the same color as his flowing crimson robes. As she warily approached him she noticed that he smelled faintly of Christmas cookies and mulled wine.
“So I’m guessing you’re here for my second turn on the merry-go-round of not-funness,” Buffy said, trying to sound quippy. However, her joke just fell flat as the jolly looking spirit’s face twisted into an expression of bewilderment.
“I am the ghost of Christmas present,” he bellowed, ignoring her attempt at a joke. Apparently these spirits didn’t come with an inbuilt sense of humor.
“Uh huh,” she said slowly. “Got some fun sights for me to see today?”
“I will show you what you need to see.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah apparently you guys are big on that.”
“My time on this earth is only short. I am born and gone in only twenty-four hours. And then I hand the reins over to my brothers.”
“Brothers? What about your sisters? Not so much with the equal rights, huh?”
“You do not take this seriously, Slayer. We must hurry if you are to witness all that you need to witness.”
“Yeah, okay,” Buffy said warily.
“Good, then we begin.”
Around her, the air began to fizz and bubble, night turned to day and bright sunshine poured into the Revello Drive living room. Outside birds were chirping but inside the house there was a hotbed of silence. Unnerving silence.
“Where is everyone?” asked Buffy, looking around for some sign of life.
“Where do you think they are, my dear?” the spirit chuckled. They are busy notcelebrating Christmas. Just like you wanted. Follow me.”
The huge spirit climbed up the stairs with Buffy hot on his heels. There was a crushing sensation around her heart as she realized that she had ruined Christmas for everyone in her house. Having been reminded of past Christmases by her first ghost, it made her feel strangely guilty.
But the real weight of guilt didn’t hit her until her eyes landed on the shaking form of his little sister. Dawn was huddled in the middle of her bed, still dressed in her frilly nightshirt. Her hair hung lankly around her shoulders and her eyes were bulgingly red and swollen. It tugged at Buffy’s heartstrings to think that she’d reduced her sister to such a pathetic little mess.
Dawn was lying face down but Buffy could see that the pillows were soaked through with tears. “Did I do this to her?” she asked, feeling her own tears pricking her eyeballs.
“In part,” he replied. “She feels that she has no one. She is all alone in a cold, hostile world. Does that sound familiar?”
And it did sound familiar. Very familiar in fact. It was exactly how she’d often felt as the Slayer. Even when people were surrounding her she sometimes felt alone so she couldn’t even comprehend how difficult it must be for Dawn right now. That little girl didn’t really have anyone around and Buffy realized that her distantness had further inflamed her sister’s pain.
She felt like the world’s most selfish bitch right then, watching her little sister sob out her heartache.
However, that image paled in comparison to what happened next. The younger Summers reached under her mattress and produced one of their kitchen knives. The blade glinted in the sunlight that was filtering through the drapes, bouncing off the razor sharp blade. Dawn stared at it for a moment as if she was internally struggling with her emotions but finally it seemed she had come to a decision.
The brunette hiked up her nightshirt, revealed a creamy, unblemished thigh. With painstaking precision she slowly drew a line in her thigh with the tip of her knife raising a bloody trail. Buffy cried out as she saw what was happening, wanting to prevent her sister from continuing but there was nothing she could do. Dawn couldn’t see her.
She was a helpless shadow.
“Argh!” Dawn cried, wincing as the blood began to flow from the shallow cut. “I’m real,” she murmured. “The blood makes me real. Buffy doesn’t even care that I’m alive but I’m real. Only a thing that’s real can bleed.”
“Oh my God,” Buffy panted. “Is that how she really feels? She thinks I don’t even care?”
The spirit shot her a vaguely sympathetic look. “She thinks that you don’t acknowledge her existence so she needs to find a way to prove that she’s real. The girl has been through so much pain that it’s familiar to her, even comforting.”
“I can’t let her do this,” Buffy insisted. “I love her. She’s my sister. If I’d known she was in this much pain…”
“What would you have done?” asked the spirit, a little harshly. “Would you have changed your ways? Would you have become a better sister? A better person?”
“I don’t know but I would have tried.”
“No! You stayed mired in your grief and misery, refusing to accept help from those that love you. Now you are seeing the consequences, Miss Summers. This is just a single one but there are more. There are so many more.”
The spirit waved one of his huge hands and the air started to bubble once again. The air seemed to heat up to stifling proportions and yet cool at the same time. Buffy closed her eyes against the weird feeling, only opening them again once the sensations dissipated.
“This is Xander’s apartment,” Buffy noted, looking around at her surroundings. She bitterly realized that Xander had gone all out with the decorations. However, she had a sneaky suspicion that most of the decoration had been done Anya’s way.
“Yes,” said the spirit. “Your friends are affected by your…disconnection too, you know.”
“I didn’t know. I mean…I didn’t think.”
“Perhaps that is your problem.”
Buffy glared at the ghost before spinning around as she heard voices approaching. Xander followed Anya out of the bedroom. Her friends, thankfully, were both fully dressed. Anya wore a little red barrette in her hair with bells dangling from it and it tinkled as she walked.
“Are we really going to your parents today?” Anya was saying, the distaste clear in her face.
“Yes, Ahn,” he said. “It’s Christmas, the time of gifts, spirit and torture.”
“Well, it was your decision that we go. You shouldn’t have agreed.”
“I wouldn’t have if we were going to the Summers like we usually do. But since Joyce is…since there’s no lunch there this year we don’t have a choice.”
“Yay, we get to enjoy your father’s drunken antics because Buffy’s too miserable to cook for us.”
“Buffy’s been through a lot, Ahn, but she’s getting better now. She’s been fine the last few times we’ve seen her.”
“Are you kidding? Buffy’s been so depressed lately,” Anya commented. “Haven’t you noticed?”
Xander shook his head in denial. “Buffy’s fine, Ahn.”
“She’s lonely. I think she wants an orgasm friend. It would certainly help her remove that pole from her bottom.”
“Ahn!” Xander hissed. “Buffy doesn’t want an…orgasm friend.”
“I think she does. Ooh, maybe Spike. He’s single and hot. Plus they both have super strength which would no doubt be exceptionally satisfying for a Slayer. She would profit greatly from learning about vampire stamina.”
By the end of her little speech, Xander looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue. “Buffy would never look at Spike. He’s evil!”
“Then so am I, Xander,” Anya said. “I was a demon just like Spike. I killed people too and I never regretted it.”
“You have a soul now though! Spike doesn’t!”
Anya tilted her head in disbelief. “I had a soul when I was a demon. Didn’t you know that?”
Xander shook his head. “But if you had a soul…”
“All vengeance demons have their souls. It’s what fuels our quest for vengeance. You know what they say about a scorned woman.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Xander, I love you, but you’re so judgmental. You let yourself be happy so why don’t you let Buffy do the same?”
His chocolate eyes drooped sadly and he nodded. “I’ll let her be happy. Just hope it’s not with Spike.”
Buffy suddenly felt like she was intruding on the private moment as the couple began to kiss. “Is it true what Anya said?” the Slayer asked the spirit.
He didn’t respond for a moment and then he sighed. “You need to judge that for yourself.”
“What does that even mean? What is it with you spirits and your cryptic-y-ness?”
“You have a mind and heart of your own. You need to learn to use them.”
Buffy turned to face the spirit, frowning as she realized that he seemed to have aged a little since they arrived here. She didn’t have time to dwell on it because before she knew it, they were moving to their next destination.
And wasn’t this the last place she wanted to be?
“Why are we in Spike’s crypt?” asked Buffy. Christmas wasn’t exactly a big day for the evil dead in her experience.
“We’re here because you need to see one of the other consequences of your actions. You need to face what you’ve done to the demon that went against his nature to love and protect you. That is why we are here, Miss Summers.”
She glanced up at the ghost that towered over her and shivered at the anger in his booming voice. “I haven’t done anything bad to Spike. He’s only a…an evil demon.” The rhetoric that she’d been indoctrinated with for so long spewed from her mouth, despite what she’d seen with her own eyes since the ghosts had come to her. “He can’t feel real feelings. What I do to him is only what h-he d-deserves.” Her voice faltered on the final words and she sighed, holding back the prickling tears.
“If you still believe that, my dear, then this has all been for naught.”
Buffy turned to him, eyes glistening with a sheen of hazy tears. “I want to believe it. Things were easier when I could believe it. Things were easier when everything was…black and white. Spike came into my life and he made everything turn to gray. Now I don’t know what I feel and what I don’t feel. Tell me how to discover the truth of my heart, Spirit!”
“Look and you will discover.” The large ghost pointed toward the trapdoor of the crypt as it was flung open.
Buffy saw the blond head of a familiar vampire poke out of the little opening before he pulled himself fully up. One hand was gripping an almost empty bottle of whiskey and a cigarette dangled from the fingers of his other hand. Spike was looking worse for wear. Actually that was an understatement. He looked depressed and disconsolate. Buffy had rarely seen him like that before. In fact the only time when she’d seen him looking so distraught was when he’d returned to Sunnydale after Drusilla left him and he’d been…
“…heartbroken.” Buffy’s voice was nothing more than a whisper but suddenly it made sense to her. Spike was heartbroken because of her. She’d used him and abused him as if he was nothing more than a supernatural dildo to ease her woes. He’d given and given until she’d sucked him dry.
It made her wonder who was actually the vampire in this scenario.
Buffy stared at Spike as he gulped down several mouthfuls from the bottle before launching it against the wall. Even though Buffy knew that the shards of glass couldn’t hurt her, she instinctively drew back.
“Why do you taunt me like this, love?” Spike asked the air.
Buffy felt her heart clench in her chest. Although he couldn’t see her, he was staring at the spot right where she was standing. His plea brought a tear to her eyes.
“I love you, pet,” he murmured through a mouthful of whiskey. “Give you everything, my heart, my love, my bloody…blood. Hell, I’d give you my soul if I had one! But I don’t need one to love you, Buffy.”
Spike’s blue gaze was fixed on the exact spot where she was standing. Even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she felt like every word was delivered to her. They were meant for her, she guessed, so in some ways it was fitting that she could hear them. Although she’d doubted his love in the past, in that moment she saw just how sincere he really was in his adoration for her.
His love ran so deep that it actually hurt.
“Why won’t you love me back, Slayer? If you’ll never love me then bloody well stake me and be done with it! I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live without you.” His words were interspersed with violent sobs and by now tears were cascading down Buffy’s face. She openly sobbed alongside the vampire who loved her.
“I wish I could change the ways I’ve hurt you,” she sighed. “I’m no better than my father, no better than Angel. God, I’m not even any better than Angelus. I promise, it’s gonna be different from now on, Spike.” Even though he couldn’t hear her, the vow she made was a solemn promise that she was determined to keep.
Staggering over to his little table that was stocked full of bottled, Spike uncorked an old bottle of wine and took several swigs, all the while muttering about his one true love. Buffy felt so bad that this was the way he was spending his Christmas…alone and drunk in a dank crypt. After having seen his loving Christmastime exchange with his mother in his human life she wondered if he would want to celebrate the holiday as a vampire. Although it wasn’t exactly a traditional undead occasion, Spike was hardly a traditional vampire.
Spike’s mutterings brought her attention back to him and her eyes widened as he threw another bottle at the wall.
“Gonna show her!” he yelled to the air. “Gonna go right over there now and break up her bloody party. Bet she’s enjoying it just buggering fine without ole Spike. But I’ll show the bint!”
Buffy realized that he wanted to go to her house. He wanted to spend the day with her. She’d told him that she wanted nothing to do with him and yet he still craved her. The blond vampire stumbled through the door of the crypt, heedless of the crisp winter sunshine. Too drunk to even stay on his feet for long he toppled to the damp ground just outside of his crypt.
“Oh my God!” Buffy gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. “He’s going to burn!”
“Did you not tell him to go ahead and do it?” the spirit asked, stroking his beard as the pair watched Spike’s skin start to sizzle.
“I-I didn’t mean he should actually die or…uh…dust. I can’t lose him!”
“But you push him away. You tell him he’s only an evil thing. Why should his passing matter to you?”
“I need him!” Buffy swallowed back her tears as Spikes hand caught fire, the vicious flames quickly spreading and enveloping the rest of his body. “Wake up damn it!” she yelled at the unconscious vampire but he didn’t stir even as he became totally engulfed in the orangey-red blaze. She whipped around to face the spirit, panicking more thoroughly than ever before. “Help him!”
“I can’t,” he told her nonplussed. “You shouldn’t cry, child. You should be glad that there’s one less vampire in the world for you to have to stake.”
Frantically Buffy’s head whipped wildly from looking at the spirit to looking at Spike’s disintegrating body. Her eyes darted wildly around as she felt truly helpless. When all that was left was a smoking pile of ashes, Buffy felt like the ground was dissolving beneath her feet. “No!” she shrieked. The scream sounded foreign to her, so foreign that she couldn’t believe it had been spawned from her own throat.
“Please no! He can’t die. I didn’t want this. Spike isn’t like other vampires,” she protested. “He’s changed, he’s tried to be good. I can’t do this without him!”
The spirit almost smiled. It was amazing how trauma could draw out the truth so easily, even from underneath a thick stock of denial.
“You imparted your wisdom unto him that he would never be anymore more than his basal nature, my dear.” The spirit stroked his beard. “And yet now you believe something so polar to that view?”
Buffy’s head whirled with the implications of what he’d said. She did believe something different! It was amazingly liberating to actually admit it to herself because it was the truth. Spike had never been just like any garden variety vamp, even before the chip. Since his little stint at the Initiative she’d seen him changing.
He’d gradually started helping the Scoobies, at first for money but eventually because he wanted to. The supposedly ‘evil’ demon had protected Dawn when Glory wanted to know about the Key, almost at the cost of his own life. Hell he’d even stuck around during the time when she was dead. He had no reason to stay and protect Dawn except for an offhand promise to a woman he could never have known he would see again.
And now he was gone. Burned up to dust in front of her eyes. The Slayer choked back a sob and spun to face the spirit. “Has this already happened or can I change it?”
The spirit shrugged. “Time is fluid, my dear Slayer,” he replied cryptically.
“It can’t end like this! He can’t just dust!”
Again all she received was a shrug and suddenly all her fight drained out of her. The Slayer sunk to her knees in the dust of the vampire who had changed her impressions of the world.
“I’m sorry, Spike,” she whispered. “I wish I could make it all better.”
It didn’t occur to her that she might still get the chance.
The sound of scrabbling and scratching drew her out of her trance as she still kneeled on the ground in Spike’s ashes. Buffy frowned as she watched the barest hint of movement coming from under the ghost’s cape. With a scream she toppled backward when two horrifying creatures burst forth from underneath the red velvet of his robe.
For a moment she thought they were demons but as she looked more closely at the hissing, spitting beings she realized that they were not demon at all. They were human…they were children.
The two children were horrific to look at but Buffy couldn’t turn her head away from the sight. Both the small girl and the small boy were barely even skin and bones with horribly twisted faces set into a permanent scowl. Their hair was wild and skin dirty but nothing terrified her as much as the feral look in their eyes.
“What are they?” Buffy asked, tears thickly coating her voice.
“They are what you created,” replied the spirit. His now aged face frowned, deepening the wrinkles that marred his once smooth skin. “They girl is Misery born from the despair that you have carried with you for so long. The boy is Scorn. You made him with every grain of hate and resentment you retained in your cooling heart. You are setting these children free on the world, Slayer.”
Buffy shook her head in denial, stumbling backward as she endeavored to escape from the disturbing scene. “No! I didn’t do this. I’m the Slayer. I help people,” she babbled, barely able to think coherently anymore.
“You are what you create,” he told her clinically. His now gray hair seemed to be whitening by the second. “You have created these two children with what exists inside of you. They are your gift to the world Slayer.”
“No!” she cried, fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks. “I’m good! I don’t create…badness. I don’t! I don’t!”
“If you change your ways you can prevent them from being unleashed on those around you. Otherwise you doom them!”
“Please!” she sobbed. “Please tell me how to change it!” The images she’d seen flashed in front of her eyes like a movie roll. “I don’t want it to be like this. Please, Spirit. Tell me how I can change things. Please!”
“Look into your heart!” his voice boomed. “Seek and you shall find!”
She wanted to ask him how she could find what she needed. Her instincts begged her to drop to the ground and implore him to help her. But she couldn’t because her body was surrounded by a thick black fog. It stuck to her body like tar, dragging her down.
As she crumpled to the ground, her last thought was that she couldn’t endure another of these spirits.
It hurt too much.
Where there had once been an aching but dull numbness inside of her heart, these first two spirits had ripped that safety away.
Now she was left with a raw, gaping wound in her chest and she could feel everything.
This time Buffy welcomed the release of unconsciousness.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Warning: Reference to self-harm and character death.