chapter 18, stay – part II
Buffy was hiding from the sun in the coolest spot she could find after running as far away from Spike as she could in ten seconds or less. Spike had let her go and after grabbing Dawn by the arm and Carlo by the shirttail, she'd dashed beneath the thick branches of the fruit trees jamming the side of the road where they'd materialized. She had a hunch Spike wasn't going to follow them into the woods. There were no sunbeams cutting through the leaves; no trail of scorching light for him to devour. Just shadows and darkness. She looked up and tried to see through the leaves and branches. Thankfully, there was nothing but night.
Then she looked back at the road.
Spike was busy reveling in the daylight and hadn't seemed to notice they were gone. He stood feet spread wide apart, swaying from side to side, eyes closed, and chin lifted to the sky. He'd taken off his duster, dropped it on the ground at his feet, and had pulled his t-shirt over his head. He then twisted the shirt into a ball with his hands and glanced in Buffy's direction. Even though she knew the dense shrubbery hid her, she could feel his eyes on her skin, burning into her flesh.
“He's sun bathing, right?” Buffy jumped as Dawn whispered in her ear and huddled closer to her.
“Yeah, guess so.” Buffy didn't look at Dawn. Her gaze was centered on Spike as he sat in the middle of the road, cross-legged. His bare torso glistened with sweat as he twisted his t-shirt and dabbed at the water on his chest and forearms. As she watched him, Buffy's hand flew to her neck to wipe away the drops of sweat that had gathered at the base of her throat.
“Why are we hiding from Spike?” Dawn asked innocently as she moved to the edge of the forest.
“Stop!” Buffy pulled her back into the dark. “Have you gone insane? He bit you less than fifteen minutes ago, that's why.”
“He didn't really bite me, Buffy,” explained Dawn. “Well, not hard. If he'd wanted to hurt me, he would have drained me. You know, just like that.” Dawn snapped her fingers.
“Shush!” Carlo snatched Dawn's hand from mid-air, and mimed the words ‘shut up', his face nearly touching hers. He then turned toward Buffy, and for the first time she saw the pain and fury in his eyes as he whispered hoarsely, “That bastard killed my mother.”
“Your mom, she's dead?” No point in being quiet, thought Buffy. Spike could hear them. She sensed that he was still a vampire even if he was standing in the sunshine. “Oh God, Carlo. I'm so sorry.”
Spike had leapt to his feet, his eyes flashing yellow, his features distorting with anger. It was uncanny how he could hear every word. Buffy tensed as she watched him stalk to the edge of the dirt path and stop just before the line of thickened trees.
“Didn't kill your mum, boy.” His words were more of a threat than a denial.
“Then who did, you fucking prick?” Carlo sprang from under the branches and was inches away from the road when Buffy grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him to the ground.
“Good girl, Slayer. I didn't want to hurt the boy.”
“Shut up, Spike.” Buffy glared at the vampire from beneath the tree branches that were sheltering her before turning to Dawn's friend.
Buffy crouched down next to Carlo, and tentatively reached out a hand to stroke his shoulder. “What happened to your mother?” Carlo sat on the ground and pulled his knees into his chest.
“We found her in the restaurant…just before we saw you in the alley,” Carlo's eyes were fixed on Spike. “She was torn apart. Blood everywhere and he…killed…her.”
Buffy looked away from Carlo and at Spike basking in the sunlight. She didn't want to see the young boxer's tears. She shook her head, trying to clear her busy brain.
Dawn was right, if Spike had wanted to kill her, she'd be dead now. Something had happened to him in the alley and he had mysteriously received new fangled powers. He could somehow survive in the heat of the daylight—and he could sweat. Buffy's eyes followed the moisture on his body as it rolled over the muscles of his chest, all taut and sculptured as his chest flexed with each breath he took. Buffy was mesmerized watching Spike breathe, not mimicking breaths, but inhaling and exhaling because he needed the oxygen to exist. She'd only seen Spike in the daylight once without a smoky blanket held over his head, and after that Gem of Amara business, she'd never wanted to see him that way again. But, here he was half-naked on a dirt road, looking somewhat glorious bathing in the sunshine she had to admit, even if only to herself. Jesus Christ, the phrase living dead was taking on an entirely new meaning, thought Buffy.
Her hand still on Carlo's back, Buffy found herself panting as she stared at Spike. Whatever had happened to him in the alley was getting to her, too.
“He didn't kill your mother. You know he was with me all night and all day.” Buffy rubbed Carlo's back as she explained. “He was at my side from the moment we left the apartment, Carlo. Trust me, he didn't kill her.”
“Thank you for that, love.” She heard Spike's voice, sounding surprisingly relieved.
Buffy raised her head to gaze at a piece of black fruit hanging on a branch near her head. She didn't want to look at Spike anymore, but she had to ask him a question.
“Spike,” she called. “What happened to you in the alley?”
“Portal jumper gave me his gifts,” he answered without hesitation. “I told you that.”
“Okay, got that—I think,” she paused contemplating her next words carefully. “Can we trust you?”
“To do what, pet?”
“Damn you, Spike!” she stood up abruptly, leaving Carlo on the ground and Dawn shrinking against the trunk of a large knobby tree. “You tried to kill, Dawn!”
“No, I bit Dawn.” Spike swiveled around on the dirt road and faced her. “If I'd wanted to kill her, I would have. But I didn't want to.”
This was too hard. Buffy wanted to believe him, but she couldn't…could she? And why did she want to, anyway?
“Buffy?” Dawn tugged on her arm. “Is Spike alive? Like in human, breathing alive?”
“Don't know.” Her voice was sharp. “Are you?” She directed her question to the road.
“Yes and no. Or more precisely, don't know exactly what I am.” Those weren't reassuring words to Buffy.
“Why are you hiding in the dark, Slayer?” He was looking at his hands, turning palms up then palms down as if he was searching for a sign.
“Because I believe it's safer for us…in the dark, right now, Spike.”
“You afraid of me, love?”
“No.” she said honestly. “Just don't want to have to kill you.”
“Buffy, no.” Dawn's anguished voice whispered in her ear. “You can't kill Spike.”
Buffy glared at Dawn, and saw the fear in her young face.
“Damn it, Dawn,” exclaimed Buffy. “Do you know where we are? Why we're here? What the hell happened to us in the alley?” Moving next to Dawn swiftly, she pushed her sister against a tree and held her still with her forearm. Then Buffy froze, suddenly afraid. For a brief instant, she had wanted to hit her.
Dawn had brought them to this place. She was the reason they'd had to leave Sunnydale. Buffy had wanted to go home. From the first day she arrived in New York City, she had wanted to leave. The night she'd first seen Spike all she could think about was that he'd come to take her home...to Sunnydale, back where everything would be okay. There would be no need for a spell. The Scoobies would be able to fight the portal jumper without losing a part of who they were. That's what Buffy wanted. Home. But she couldn't admit that. And if she could, to whom? Buffy had been afraid for months because she couldn't remember who she'd been before Willow took away that damn thought. Every night since she'd arrived in New York City Buffy had dreamed about that lost thought. Except for that night Spike had slept in her bed and she'd dozed in a chair, she hadn't been able to rest because of the constant dream.
This had to stop.
Huffing with determination, Buffy marched out of the dark forest to the dirt road and into the sunlight. She'd moved quickly, and stood next to Spike before Dawn or Carlo had time to realize she was no longer standing next to them.
“I don't believe you want to hurt us,” she said to Spike. “But I don't know if you can stop yourself. We're in big trouble here. We have to figure out a way to get back to New York City, or whatever it is, and I need your help. You know what I mean?”
Buffy was questioning everything. What if the too wet, too dark, too smelly New York City she'd been living in for the past three months was a fake city manufactured by the portal jumper? She was panicking, and she knew it. But she had too many thoughts buzzing in her head. Too much, she didn't understand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike take another deep breath; it looked good on him, breathing. She inhaled deeply and tried to calm down. Besides breathing, Spike was sweating too much. The heat was something he wasn't accustomed to dealing with. This kind of heat was something she wasn't used to either. She grimaced thinking that there was one thing she was beginning to realize. Maybe something in this dimension was changing her like the alley had changed Spike.
‘We've got to get out of wherever we are and back to Willow,” she paused after each syllable, punctuating every word.
Buffy pushed the air out of her throat, past her slightly parted lips and made a soft hissing sound, as she waited for him to talk.
It took a few minutes longer than she had expected.
“Can't explain what happened to me Slayer,” he said finally. “But won't hurt you or the bint. Promise. Though can't guarantee I'll act the way you expect.” Spike placed his hands on his legs and pulled his knees to his bare chest, and briefly glanced up at the sky. “I've changed. Into what? Don't rightly know. But I'll die first before I hurt you or try to hurt Dawn again. I swear.”
Looking into his eyes, Buffy believed every word he spoke as he matched her unwavering gaze with his own unblinking stare. His expression was so intense and so sincere, she had to stop herself from reaching up to touch his face.
“Dawn, Carlo, come here.” She beckoned to them from the road as she sat on the ground next to Spike. “We've got to figure out a way to get back to New York. And we've got to do it fast.”
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“You think you can show up all scaly and bigger than anything I've ever seen, and scare me?” At least her voice wasn't shaking, thought Willow, looking up at the blue-eyed devil. “Well, no. Not scaring me. You freaking idiot!”
“Shut up, bitch!” Its voice blasted through the alley.
“No!” she shouted right back. “You can't talk to me like that!”
The mist began funneling around her, whipping itself into a frenzy of speed, gathering debris from all corners of the alley and the open dumpsters surrounding them.
Willow needed her voice to be calm, and settled her black eyes on the perfect face of the Shemhazi. He was such a whore. He'd led two hundred of his disciples into a village a million years ago...or according to what dimension they were in, a moment before. It didn't really matter. He had brought with him a heavenly power, or so they'd believed, and no one could resist his charms. But then he'd betrayed them all. His lust and need had destroyed his family and his children. He'd turned them into half-breed blood sucking demons. For what?
Willow 's thoughts were reeling through time and dimensions. She was Willow, and she was Shemhazi's first wife, the first witch of all time. She had been bestowed the all-dimensional magic of the word by one of God's chosen. Except he was an angel that had broken his promise to heaven, and banished to earth, had blithely given the world its first witches.
Willow suddenly was exhausted. She was desperately tired of battling the Shemhazi. The chant was still flowing from her lips as the magical cylinder she had conjured spun out of control. It had shielded her from Shemhazi's touch and from the magic in his eyes, but it also prevented her from punishing him with the full brunt of her own powers.
God, she needed to get away from him for a while. Reenergize her resolve to destroy him at all cost.
Willow scanned the alley, searching for something she could use to distract Shemhazi. All she needed was an instant and she could disappear. She had to get back to Tara and find Dawn before the Shemhazi could sense what had happened.
She glanced at Luke. Tara was still working the memory mojo on him, and he didn't appear to know it. He'd forgotten all about Spike and Jacob and the seven hundred years of blood and the gifts he had given them. The small little man was hiding in the shadows beneath the fire escapes jutting out from the brick walled buildings lining the alley. With his powers diminished, Luke appeared even paler and thinner to Willow.
But the beast towering above her was strong. As much power as she'd mastered since the thought spell, Willow still needed more against Shemhazi.
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Anya had been a demon for a thousand years. Snatching a locket from her throat couldn't give her a new life. Falling for a man who didn't quite get her couldn't make her all shiny and new. Smacking her across the face and shoving her to the ground, didn't change what she was, just like taking away one thought didn't make her a woman who deserved to be saved. Her nature was to be what she had to be. She couldn't be human. She was a demon.
Deal with that, Miss Born on the Fourth of July!
Her eyes opened and she searched for Luke's face.
The coward was huddled in a corner.
to be continued…
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Please. If you read or reviewed before the 'great crash of 2005", please repost your review. It would be very much appreciated. Chapter 19 is finished and beta'd and will be posted tomorrow. thanks for reading.