[Reviews - 89]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 1697 times

- Text Size +




chapter 22: bittersweet – part III

Buffy stood in the archway between the kitchenette and the living room and wrapped her fingers tightly around the large spoon.

The wooden utensil had been snatched from the kitchen counter instinctively. The blond vampire facing the bay window in her living room had told her once that a Slayer had to keep her weapon handy. Then he'd shifted into his demon face and whispered menacingly into her ear that a vampire always had his.

She hadn't forgotten the lesson.

“Are you okay?” Buffy asked as she took a cautious step forward, clutching the spoon at her side. She examined the room quickly. The way Dawn had sounded she'd expected the living room to look like a tornado had struck. But there was nothing alarming or unusual about the small space. Except for the vampire standing at the window in the sunlight, everything looked normal. She returned her gaze to him.

Watching his naked back heaving rapidly up and down, she wondered if he was having trouble catching his breath. Whatever had changed him into a living, breathing vampire capable of surviving in the sunlight might be wearing off. Perhaps that was why he was so agitated. Maybe that was the reason he had yelled at Dawn, ordering her to get her big sister to come to him right away.

Buffy moved closer to Spike.

“Dawn said you wanted to see me?” She hoped her voice sounded calm. Certainly, he'd heard every word Dawn had said in the hallway a few minutes earlier about his bad moodiness. Buffy didn't want him to suspect that she was worried about him. Neither did she want to give away what she'd have to do if the conversation didn't go well.

She slowly moved further into the room. When she found a good spot, kitty-cornered from him so that she could see his profile, she stopped. Now from where she stood, near the sofa and almost in the middle of the room, she'd have more space to counter an attack if he suddenly spun and charged.

Precise strategic angle, she decided. That was what she had, a spot from which she could see his face and peer over his shoulder while staying out of his reach.

Jutting her chin forward slightly, she looked down into the street and searched for what was holding Spike's attention. She wasn't surprised when she saw there was nothing to see. The street was empty. She'd almost expected that. They'd just traveled through a portal to get back to New York City in December and it was a hundred degrees, as hot as August in Sunnydale. This wasn't the city they'd left.

“The wiser mind mourns less for what age takes away, than what it leaves behind.”

Buffy jumped and let out a small squeal. Spike's voice had startled her. “The what leaves the…huh …behind?”

“William Wordsworth. Bit of a poem called The Fountain, pet,” explained Spike as he rested his forehead on the glass. “He was talking about loss.”

“You…lose…I mean…you've lost something?” Her words stuck in her throat as she clutched the wooden spoon in her hand. “Is that what you're doing staring out the window… looking for something you've…lost?”

“No, Buffy. I've found what I'm looking for…”

He smashed his palms to his elbows through the window, breaking the glass and slicing his skin. The small cuts dripping blood formed a jagged red pattern on his arms. Buffy stepped backward and pulled her hand up, fisting the wooden spoon and pointing it, ready to strike.

As she stared and waited breathlessly for whatever might happen next, Spike leapt onto the ledge of the window in one smooth motion.

“I've got to...got to go...to Willow." Spike's voice shook as he spoke. Then he glanced at her briefly before turning and jumping from the second floor apartment onto the concrete below.

Rushing forward, Buffy leaned over the windowsill and saw a streak of bleached hair, pale white skin and black jeans zigzagging from the sidewalk to the concrete street until Spike's body grew smaller, and smaller, and then disappeared.

He'd mentioned Willow, she remembered as she let the spoon drop from her hand. There was something else, too. He'd been breathing all fast and hard and just before he jumped had looked—frightened. Very un-Spike like.

“Dawn!” Buffy called as she ran to her bedroom and pulled open the door. “Spike has run off to find Willow and I've got to follow him.” She grabbed a shirt from the bed, tied it around her hips and flew over to her closet. Dropping to her knees, she rummaged through the clothes and bags on the floor. She found an axe and two stakes. She tested the weight of the axe in one hand and shoved the stakes into the waistband of her shorts.

“We'll go with you,” said Carlo.

“No.” she snapped. “Stay here. And I mean here. No portals, no coming after me. No leaving this apartment. No place but here. Understood?” She searched the faces of the two teenagers staring at her, making certain—or as certain as possible— that they had gotten the message.

“Okay, Buffy,” said Dawn finally.

Buffy spun on her heels and raced out of the apartment. As soon as her feet hit the pavement on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building, Buffy froze. There were so many feelings bouncing around in her head, she needed a moment to gather her wits. She hadn't expected Spike to leave. That possibility hadn't crossed her mind, even with his new powers and the whole daylight vampire thing. It hadn't occurred to her that he'd jump out a window and run away. Sure, she'd been ready to stake him if that had to happen. But she truly believed Spike was learning to deal with being a super-strong vampire that could walk in the daylight and jump through portals. True, he'd given in to his bloodlust in the alley and had bitten Dawn. He'd been out of control for a few seconds. But he hadn't drained Dawn and he hadn't tried to bite any of them since. She had to believe Spike would be on her side when the final confrontation with the portal jumper came.

She pushed the memory of kissing Spike out of her mind. She couldn't think about that at all right now.

Buffy shook herself mentally and whirled her body in the direction she'd last seen Spike. She had to trust her instincts and make a guess as to where he was heading.

She started running as fast as she could toward the alley behind Mom's Restaurant.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't a tall building. Only five stories high, a typical New York City walk-up. Well, that is if climbing steps was the way you had to travel. The surrounding buildings were postcard duplicates of the one in front of them. Broken stoop with five concrete steps, black iron railing, and about six feet from the edge of the curb to the keyhole to unlock the front door. Typical in every way, except for a few things.

The silence was unearthly. The block was as still as a tomb. Here she was on a big street in a big city and no big crowds or noises. And, it was god-awful hot for the middle of December.

They hadn't jumped back to New York City. Anya frowned, agitated with this latest twist. They had followed Spike to some new world, a place he decided they needed to go.

Luke suddenly leapt to the top of the stairs of the apartment building. In one swift movement, he pushed his fist through the thick wood in front of him and ripped the door from its hinges.

“Look out,” he shouted as he threw the broken door over his shoulder. Anya obliged him quickly and stepped to the side as the door splintered into pieces on the ground next to her.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

Then, stepping daintily around the debris, Anya sprinted up the stairs to Luke's side. She stood in the new entranceway he'd created and waited an extra beat, giving him a chance to answer.

“Spike's not here,” stated Anya hurriedly, the frustration of waiting and curiosity seizing her. “He wouldn't stay here. There's no place to fight unless we lure him into the street or sneak up on him in this apartment building. But that's not likely since we've announced our presence rather loudly.” She eyed the mangled door in the street and then glared meaningfully at the gapping hole where it had resided moments before.

Then Anya glowered at Luke. “Why are we here?”

“Simple,” he grinned without a touch of laughter reaching his maddeningly blue eyes. “We follow them until they can't jump anymore.”

He extended his hand toward Anya. “And you'll come with me because you have no choice.”

Luke had answered the question she hadn't dared ask, she thought, staring at the exposed palm of his hand. “If we're just going to jump, why tear down the door, and make so much noise?”

“Entrances,” he said, the grin still painted on his pale face. “Jumping is so quiet and boring. I wanted to announce my coming with a bang.”

She swallowed nervously and placed her hand in his. Instantly, she felt the now familiar sensation, the spinning, and the gliding as they moved through dimensions.

All of this travel to go up five flights of stairs, thought Anya. Damn, self-indulgent portal jumper.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The streets were bathed in bright white sunlight. Buffy looked up at the skyscrapers, at the tall brick and steel buildings surrounding her, and at the shining cement stretched out in front of her. Amazing, she thought. In this world the sun didn't cast any shadows. Nothing but endless pools of light covered this New York City. Sure, it still had all the subway entrances popping up at the end of each block. Gigantic buildings reached into the sky and grotesquely large smiling faces stared down at her from meteor-sized billboards. It was the usual cluttered New York landscape. But racing through the deathly silent streets, straining to hear the distant footsteps of the vampire she was chasing had a powerful effect on her feelings about city life.

She longed to be back in Sunnydale.

As she reached the mouth of the entrance to the alley behind Mom's Restaurant, she collapsed against the building wall, exhausted and struggling for air. She could barely stay on her feet. Slayer strength didn't mean she could run a marathon at full speed in less than five minutes.

Her breaths, coming in short bursts, gushed through her empty lungs and burned her throat on their tortuous path out of her body. Her desperation for oxygen was intense, but couldn't compete with her lungs' overwhelming need to constrict. Buffy had run herself nearly to death between the fear she didn't want to admit to and the relentless sun. But something had compelled her to come after Spike. He'd said he had to find Willow. She didn't believe he planned on hurting her. But if he tried, Buffy had to be there to stop him.

She pushed herself upright, away from the wall and, finally able to take a pain free breath, inhaled deeply. Untying the shirt she'd wrapped around her waist, she wiped the sweat from her face and throat and then sopped up the water running down her arms and chest.

God, she hoped Spike was in the alley.

“Why'd you come after me, Buffy?”

“God, Spike!” She squealed. “Scare me to death or what?”

He had stepped from behind a dumpster she hadn't even seen when she'd first entered the alley. He was still shirtless and his skin was covered with sweat. His hair was drenched and had spiraled into a mass of soaked curls. She couldn't remember seeing his hair without the gel that plastered it to his head. He looked younger and his face had a gentleness she hadn't noticed before.

“Sorry, pet,” he said. “But you shouldn't have come here.”

"Well, you said you needed to find Willow, so I thought I'd give you a hand." She forced her voice to sound lighthearted.

"No,” Spike said. “I said I had to go to Willow …I know where she is."

"Oh, so she's coming here?"

“No.” His voice was brusque as he walked into the middle of the alley. “She's already here.”

Buffy suddenly had a hard time staying on her feet. A gust of wind nearly knocked her to the ground. She was choking as the rabid current of air rushed into her lungs, drowning them in debris and dust. She grabbed hold of the ledge of the dumpster's lid to keep from blowing away. Then, as quickly as it had come it was gone. She blinked compulsively to clear the grit from her eyes.

Squinting, she thought she saw three figures behind the rubbish floating in the alley. Willow was standing between Spike and the black vampire, Jacob. The last time Buffy had seen Willow, she had been trapped in a cylinder of wind in this very same alley. Buffy rubbed the heel of her hands across her eyes. Yeah, it was Willow.

She started to run to her, to hug her into her arms and tell her how glad she was to see her. How thrilled she was that she was okay. But Buffy hesitated. The threesome looked odd. They were standing too close to each other as if they were best friends—really close best friends. They had such a familiar way with their bodies it was as if they were intertwined. Their shoulders touched and their hips seemed to lean into each other's personal space.

They looked like they'd been together—you know, sexually, which would be icky, thought Buffy. But when Willow moved toward Buffy, the way Spike and Jacob hung back, watching Willow's ass with chins up and shoulders squared, and their eyes glowing with blatant, shameless—lust. Well, it made Buffy shudder.

“Oh Buffy,” Willow's outstretched arms surrounded her so quickly she didn't have time to react before being gathered up into the smothering embrace. Buffy stood motionless with her arms at her side and allowed the sweaty bear hug.

“There's so much I've got to tell you. But you know, fortunately, we've got to fight Shemhazi first. But I promise. We'll talk. Later. Okay?”

Buffy shimmied out of Willow’s arms.

“What's going on Will? And who the hell is Shemhazi?” Buffy couldn't hide her confusion. Willow's behavior was out-of-sync with being in a alley in a another dimension's New York City with two vampires acting like Willow was the queen of Sheba. Okay, she'd stolen the 'Sheba' expression from Giles as far as the queen business, but this was too strange.

"Calm down, Buffy. You sound like Anya," teased Willow. "Questions, questions, questions. None of them matter, really, except for the one about Shemhazi. You wanna know who he is? Well, he'll be here soon, and you can ask him."

Then Willow laughed as the ground shook and the pavement quaked, and the two vampires behind her leaped onto the rooftops.

Guess Shemhazi was on his way, thought Buffy.

To be continued...





You must login (register) to review.