| Part Seven : The Dragonfly I am calling to you, come to me and be done, done with all this dancing, this tired minuet of touch and withdrawal, just come to me now in darkness under the cover of sunless days give me your eyes, drink me, sip me into your longing, longing for you come to me and be done |
| * * * * * Buffy pulled away from Spike and stared at him with disbelief. “What happened to you?” Blushing, Spike sat back on the bed and stared down at his hands. He took several shallow breaths. “I think Bert’s plan worked.” “Bert’s plan?” “Guess I need to start from the beginning. You remember that night I went out on patrol for you? Was just before you threw me out.” “Never threw you out!” “Right. Well, that’s another story, love.” He gave her a sad smile. “Anyway, I dusted this old vampire and just before he disappeared, he cursed me. Said I was born to be the death of anyone I love...my life’s purpose so to speak. A prophecy it was...something about a dragon. You know some vamps when they’re turned in old age are bloody nasty. Just thought he was trying to have a bit o’ fun with me. Get the last word in. But later I thought I’d better just check it out, so I wrote to the Ripper.” “Giles knows about all this? I talked to him. He knew I was frantic to find you! Why didn’t he say anything to me?” “Better read this.” He pulled a soiled and wrinkled letter out of his pocket and thrust it into her hands. * * * * * William, I received your letter and I must tell you I’m quite concerned. The peculiar details around your encounter with the vampire named Fourier are very disturbing. Fourier was sired by the vampire Richard Sinclair, who terrorized London during the late nineteenth century. Sinclair came from a very ancient French and Scottish lineage, and is known to have some unusual ties with the Slayer prophecies. In fact, it is claimed that he was finally dispatched by a discredited watcher whose slayer he’d murdered. There’s not much written about this, which I find a little strange. Got some raised eyebrows at the council when I started asking questions. The thing I found most disturbing is this reference to a “dragon” I just found in another watcher’s diary – “The dragon will be born of two worlds, death and despair his gift to all who love him, slayer of slayers, secret ruler of the blood, the doom he spreads will be unstoppable, except by a certain wilder, deeper magic.” It seems not even a slayer can kill him. He’s their worst nightmare. So you see my concern given your history. He called you ‘dragon’. We must find out your true lineage. You have no idea what may be rising up inside of you. I know you say you love Buffy, but I’m pleading with you here. If you love, her leave her now before you destroy her. For if you are what Fourier claimed, you certainly will destroy her. Until you’re sure it’s all some terrible case of mistaken identity, you need to leave. You must leave. You need to understand this strange obsession, as you say, that you have for Buffy. I suggest you go to San Francisco for a while. There are some excellent occult research facilities there and I hear the vampire community is quite ancient. Contact me when you settle in. I’ll let you know what else I discover. Rupert Giles * * * * * “I can’t believe Giles didn’t tell me any of this,” Buffy said angrily. “You all think you can manage my life. I’m not a child anymore. I deserved to know this. You should have told me everything.” She stretched out her arm and placed her palm on the side of his warm face. “Why are you alive? Is this another bad dream, another nightmare, like last night?” Spike shrugged his shoulders and stood up. He began pacing slowly about the small room. “Last night wasn’t a dream.” Buffy lay back on the bed and curled up tightly hugging the bedspread to her breast. “It was you last night, making love to that woman? But I killed you!” “Last night you killed the vampire, not the man.” “Who are you then? Are you this “dragon” creature? What else did Giles discover?” “I can’t explain just yet. Not quite sure myself. It’s part of Bert’s plan. You see, Bert thought I was the son of a Slayer and a Vampire. The one Giles talks about in his letter.” “But, how could you put so much trust in Bert?” Spike sat down on the bed next to Buffy and slowly stroked her hair. Buffy closed her eyes at his touch. She was trembling. “All I know is that whoever I am, this heart inside of me loves you, needs you.” He bent down and kissed her lips softly. “Will love you always and forever.” “Love,” Buffy murmured, and pulled him down into a deep kiss. “And you see,” he said, slowly pulling away from her embrace, “Bert claimed he knew just what the ‘deeper, wilder, magic’ was.” * * * * * A place or time beyond or between no language separates being from experience half remembered twilight fragments surface what comes from that place has no name to tame it wild as mountains were before yet gentle, soft and sweet unnamed I give it to you. * * * * * “Ok, I need the whole story. Now. And no weaseling!” Spike sighed, and then shivered a bit. It was starting to cloud up outside and the temperature was falling inside the glassed-in room. “I feel a bit off here, and what are these little bumps all over my arms?” He held out his arms in dismay. Buffy touched his skin. “You’re freezing!” she laughed. “Put your clothes on and get under the blankets.” “Could I forget the first part and just get under the blankets?” “You’re getting pretty close to weasledom. Get in and start talking.” Buffy held up the covers, nestled up to him, as she entwined her warm body around his. “Mmm, I like getting warm.” He snuggled into the warmth of her arms and the softness of her breasts. He pressed his lips against one of her swelling nipples and slowly began to suckle her breast. His hand found the warm place between her legs and he stroked her softly. He could feel the slight rise of her body temperature as she began to be aroused by his caresses. “What are you doing? You’re supposed be talking. Weasel. Stop…ah… don’t stop.” Buffy arched her hips against Spike’s hand as he slipped his fingers deep into her. “So warm, so lovely and wet,” He stroked her a bit harder, and raised his head and ran his tongue lightly over her lower lip. She opened her mouth to pull him into a deep kiss, her tongue probing the soft warm of his mouth. Her body trembled as she relaxed deeper onto his fingers. He pulled away from her kiss and placed his mouth over her ear, gently licking its delicate curves. He grasped her hand and slipped it down the smooth, hardened muscles of his stomach until it was nestled among the dark curls just below the aching stiffness of his swollen shaft. “You’re burning up,” she stroked him softly. “That’s right,” he said rubbing himself slowly against her small, strong hand, “Believe this must be the best way to take the chill off.” He groaned deeply as she increased her motion and then quickly rolled her over onto her back, pushing her legs apart with his knees and thrusting himself deeply into her all in one fluid motion. She pushed her hands against his chest, took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Talk. Weasel.” Spike sighed, and as he settled himself a bit deeper inside her, he propped his head in one of his hands, and adjusted his body into a comfortable position without losing a bit of contact with the warm heat of her body. Her inner muscles pulsed gently around his stiff shaft. “All comfy love?” he asked with a smile. She contracted her muscles giving his cock a hard squeeze. He closed his eyes with the deliciousness of the sensation. “Talk.” Spike spent the next two hours explaining to Buffy everything that had happened to him since he’d left Sunnydale. He explained how he’d met Bert in the garden, the strange coincidence of the Sinclair name, the sad history of Bert and his beloved Slayer, and the story of how he’d killed her vampire lover. The he told her how he’d felt when he’d seen her walking into the dining room in her pink dress. “I could’ve jumped over table and had you right on the floor love, you were so damn gorgeous, didn’t know you were coming. Almost ripped Bert apart afterwards for bringing you here and then he gave me something to drink to calm me down. Don’t remember too much after that, ‘cept you putting the bloody stake in my back.” He continued on, though he was occasionally distracted when she’d squeeze him again or lick his nipple, causing him to surge back to a painful stiffness. “Would you stop it Slayer?” he complained as she playfully nipped his stomach. “I’m talking here.” “Look, Spike, I think you’ve explained enough. If you don’t make me come, I think I’ll lose my mind. We’ll deal with Bert after that, Ok?” She flung her legs around him tightly as he began to thrust in slow motion inside her. “Faster.” He obliged. She cried out his name as she came, her orgasm shuddering through her whole body. He kissed her deeply and then he came so violently that she felt she’d dissolve in the sheer volume of the warm seed that throbbed into her. He lay motionless on top of her, feeling the last pulses of his orgasm slowly recede. He held her tightly refusing to let her move. “This was part of Bert’s plan too, wasn’t it?” she whispered against his neck. “Yes, love.” She didn’t want to move. Never move again. This union with Spike, this love, was blessed, prophecy or no prophecy. This coming together was so true and real, far, far beyond the dusty words of old men or vampires. Perhaps he was alive for these few hours, perhaps he’d be his old undead self tomorrow. It didn’t really matter to her anymore. Demon or human. Beast or man. It was his heart. That’s all that mattered and the way he loved her. She needed to make him understand. After all he’d done for her, sacrificed for her safety, she owed him that. * * * * * there are moments which made her stop speechless and opened reminded of something long hidden something supple and green beyond a hill or horizon beyond reward or retribution something lost in frenzied avarice or desperation something so lithe and yielding so whirling, trembling, born of bliss the lines and light of unfathomable joy the colors which enfold and resurrect her deadened soul and make her weep * * * * * Buffy woke to find Spike sprawled on top of her sleeping soundly with his forehead pressed against the curve of her neck and his warm breath heating her skin. His left hand was tangled tightly in her hair and his right hand was lightly cupping her breast. He was still inside her. She gave a deep sigh of satisfaction and a wave of happiness filled her heart. They’d been through so much. She thought briefly of their separation and the loneliness of her days without him. She’d never really known what loneliness was until she’d met him, loved him and then lost him. It wasn’t just pangs of self pity or sadness; it was the feeling of being torn apart, of slowly dying without the nourishment of his presence. He made something inside of her live, be born...her cells, her blood called for him, yearned for him. It used to make her so afraid, this need for him. It felt as deep as an abyss, something that could never be filled. It was an intensity that would repulse or scare away a normal man. This wild need for him was dangerous. And yet all it took was his presence, his smile, a light touch and she would feel complete. She surrendered to this deep longing for him. He was her mate and this is how it should be. The other loves she’d had, childhood love, adolescent love, were the shadows of love; this love for Spike was true love, messy, painful, glorious and deeply fulfilling. She softly stroked his back and gave him a little pat. “Spike, Spike, I think it’s time for us to wake up.” He moaned a bit and slowly opened his eyes. “But it’s morning,” he protested. She laughed and tugged on his hair, “That’s right, you lazy thing. Morning is when we live people wake up.” “Bother and damn. Can’t I sleep a wee bit more love?” He rolled away from her taking most of the covers with him, pulling them over his head. Buffy sat up and tried to pull the covers off him. He held them tight, and soon they were in the middle of a major tug-o-war. When Buffy stood up and pulled on the covers with all her slayer strength, they tore in half and she fell back onto the floor laughing wildly. Spike, fully awake now, sat up in the bed holding his end of the torn fabric. “You bitch! Now look what you’ve gone and done!” Buffy continued to giggle and choke as she sat sprawled on the floor beside the bed. She looked up and caught Spike’s eyes. His face was flushed, his hair soft and tousled from sleep. He was smiling. “Ah, he is so beautiful in this moment,” she thought. “Come here.” He commanded her and she rose off the floor and flung herself into his open arms. “You’re a very, very bad Slayer!” “And you’re a very bad…er…Spike…just what are you love?” He lifted her up off the bed and stood holding her in his arms. “Let’s go find out shall we?” He kissed her nose. They dressed in silence. Spike helped Buffy into her pink dress, which was looking a bit worse for wear. They tidied up the little room and then just as they were about to leave, Spike took Buffy’s hand and they stood in the doorway looking back into room. “I’ll never forget this place, might not even be real, but it will always be real to me in here.” Spike pointed to his heart. He pulled on her hand and led her down the stairs of the little glass gazebo. The sky was cloudy and there was a slight chill to the soft breeze that was blowing up from the ocean. They could smell the faint scent of the sea. They followed a path that wound through the dense overgrown garden. “Not sure where we’re going here love.” He stopped suddenly in front of her. “This looks a little familiar…” The sun had broken through the clouds and was shining brightly on the small meadow before them. “Look Buffy,” he said in wonder. It was the meadow where they had acted out their dark dance of betrayal and death. It had undergone a complete metamorphosis in the light of day. It was completely filled with thousands of wildflowers. From edge to edge, it was covered with golden yellow poppies, pale white shooting stars, deep blue indigo lupine, pale pink farewell-to-spring, deep red bitterroot, scarlet red-maids, purple violets, creamy yellow buttercups and Johnny-jump-ups, wild ice white lilies, blue witches, pure white everlastings and heartbreakingly blue cornflowers. The fragrance that rose from the meadow was overwhelmingly heady and beautiful. Buffy cried out with pleasure and pushing past Spike, ran out into the middle of the meadow. She held out her arms and slowly spun in a circle. The flowers seemed to follow her movements, pouring their innocent love into her heart. Spike stood staring at the sight of his love dancing through the wildflowers, the pale pink silk of her dress swirling around her, the sun glinting off the crystal beads which covered the thin fabric. She was enchanted, a fairy. His eyes dimmed for a moment as tears sprung to his eyes. She held out her hands to him and he thought for a moment that he saw a delicate thin silver thread stretch between them, pulling him to her side. He clasped her hands in both of his and gave her a little spin. They fell down onto the grass laughing. They lay on their backs in meadow. Spike clasped her hand. A sweet feeling of peace came over them. The warm rays of the sun poured over them and the wildflowers bent toward the brilliant waves of energy that swirled around and between them as they lay in the silent meadow. A golden dragonfly darted out from beneath the trees and hovered above their bodies. Its wings glistened in the sunlight. It came to rest on Spike’s chest. “Dragonfly,” Buffy whispered in awe. The clouds above began to darken, suddenly obscuring the sun, and a light misty rain began to fall. * * * * * ready to remember that nights are dark and soft now no tall pines to sing with rain rain my protector these years in silence ready to remember now that child is father to the man for there is no rain here only sweet dried grass and the sun * * * * * Spike stood and pulled Buffy up with him. “We’d better hurry. It looks like it’s going to be a downpour.” Buffy reluctantly followed Spike. She stopped and picked a handful of cornflowers that were blooming just at the edge of the meadow. “Bye,” she whispered, not really sure to whom or what. The rain began to pour down in earnest. “Best run love. Follow me.” Spike started to run down the path, with Buffy jogging slowly behind. “Hurry!” Spike yelled urgently, above a roar of thunder and sudden flash of lightening that lit the sky above them. They saw the veranda steps ahead of them and made a mad dash under the overhanging roof. They were completely soaked. “Spike, something’s wrong here.” The veranda railings and sides of the house were covered in climbing vines, ivy, wisteria and honeysuckle all struggling for foothold. “I don’t remember all these vines, do you?” “No pet, and look at all these dead leaves scattered about. Looks like this place hasn’t been tidied up in ages.” Buffy placed her hand against the pane glass windows of the French doors that led into the ballroom. The glass was dusty and streaked. The room inside was dark. In fact there were no lights to be seen in any of the windows. Buffy sneezed at that moment, startling Spike, who jumped back in fright. “Geez give a bloke a little warning!” “Brave much?” “Not the point, pet. I’m getting an awful bad feeling here, and I bet that bloody git Bert has his little undead hand in this.” “Just how long do you suppose we’ve been gone?” She asked, her voice shaking a bit with the cold and not a little fear. “Don’t know love, but if I don’t get you out of this cold, you’re going to be the ice queen you’ll always wished you were.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “That is before you met me sweetheart.” He tried the doorknob on one of the French doors. It was locked. He tried several other doors and some of the windows without success. “Just have to do what comes naturally.” As he slammed his fist into one of the panes of glass next to the doorknob, Buffy yelled at him in horror, “Don’t…you’ll get cut!” It was too late. The door swung open but Spike had a deep slash on his forearm. “Look at all this beautiful blood, going to waste.” Spike looked down at the bright red blood flowing out of his arm and then passed out in a dead faint on the ballroom floor. Somehow Buffy got Spike’s body completely into the room. She bolted the door behind her and, using some material she ripped from the velvet curtains lining the ballroom windows, she managed to make a tourniquet and stop the flow of blood out of Spike’s arm. His face was deathly pale and, in his wet clothes, his body temperature was beginning to fall. “Need to get him warm.” Buffy looked worriedly at Spike lying unconscious on the floor. She leaned over, scooped him up in her arms and threw him awkwardly over her shoulder. “Dumb. Dumb. Trying to be all heroic.” She staggered through the ballroom and found the staircase that led up to the room she’d used to dress in. By the time she reached the bedroom, she was panting heavily. “You definitely owe me one.” She threw him down on the bed and quickly stripped him of his wet clothes and wrapped him up in the soft down comforters and several wool blankets that were lying at the foot of the bed. She looked around the room and saw a pile of wood logs, and a large box of wooden matches next to the fireplace. She quickly lit a fire. The wood was very dry and was soon burning brightly, throwing a strong wave of heat into the room. She found several candles and soon the room was lit with dancing flames of the fire and soft glow of candlelight. She heard Spike moan from the bed. “Where am I?” “Warm and safe, which is more than I can say for myself,” she said, a bit peevishly. She slowly took off her dress and wandered naked over to the closet to look for something warm to put on. “Beautiful arse you have on you love. Come m’ere.” Buffy glanced over to see Spike peeking out of the blankets and staring lustfully at her as she stood before the closet. “Unbelievable! You nearly kill yourself, make me carry you up three flights of stairs, and you can still think about sex?” “Not sex, love. Just a bit of cuddle.” He lifted up the covers and motioned for her to join him. “Just returning the favor.” Buffy gave a little shiver and decided to join him. “See love, I’m all toasty hot, a regular bed warmer, snuggle up and …ow!” Spike yelled in pain as Buffy rolled over on his wounded arm. “You did that on purpose!” “Did not.” “Did so.” “Did not.” “Did…” Buffy covered Spike’s lips with a big wet kiss, she thrust her tongue inside his mouth and he surged against her in response. She pulled back and held his chin in her hand. “Calm down and let’s get a little rest here. You need to recover a bit.” “Not fair,” he sulked a bit and then settled back deep into the blankets. He pulled her close, keeping his arm over her waist. They lay in the bed and listened to the rising storm howling outside the bedroom windows. Soon Spike was snoring lightly. Buffy gazed down at his sleeping face. “So innocent looking. Right. Need more wood on the fire.” She slipped quietly out of bed and piled more logs on the fire. She brought several candles and stood them on the bedside table and then she went over to the closet to find something to wear. She found a thick white wool robe and wrapped it tightly around her. She took one of the candles and slipped quietly out the bedroom door, closing it softly behind her. Her stomach rumbled noisily. “Food!” She hurried down the staircase lightly touching the banister rail with her hand. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could feel the dust and grit that covered her palm. She found her way into the kitchen and went over to the sink to wash her hand. The pipes groaned a bit, but soon a gush of water poured out of the facet. “At least we’ll have water.” She rummaged through the cupboards and drawers. All she found were several large candles, a can opener, and an old mousetrap. “Not much use for this here.” She tossed the mousetrap on the floor. It skidded across the hard surface and instead of bouncing off the wall she thought was at the other end of the kitchen, it kept sliding until it clanged against a metallic surface. “Hmm, sounds interesting.” She walked over to the end of the kitchen and, in a deep recess in the wall, found a large, well stocked pantry and what looked like a deep freeze. Unfortunately, the deep freeze was empty. Buffy had been imagining a nice thick steak or even French fries. She scanned the cans and boxes of food on the shelf. She picked up a large basket that was lying next to freezer and began filling it up. “Marmite. This looks disgusting. Just the thing for Spike,” She shoved several jars into the basket. “Weetabix!” She laughed and tossed it in. “Canned ham, chipped beef, peas, tea, sugar, peaches!” She was nearly faint with hunger. “Oh my god, chocolate! Bert, I forgive you everything!” She grabbed all of the large bars of Cadbury’s semi-sweet chocolate off the shelf. Her basket was nearly full. She paused a moment before several curious blue glass jars labeled ‘transition phase I’ and then spotted a bottle of scotch which she squeezed into the basket. “It’s enough for now.” She walked back into the kitchen and picked the candles and can opener. She paused looking around the room. She found a large iron kettle, some old plates and cups and a glass carafe, and carefully balancing everything in her arms she headed back upstairs to the bedroom. Spike was still sleeping soundly. She placed her treasures onto the low table that was placed between the two armchairs sitting in front of the fireplace. She soon had the kettle boiling and a small feast set out on the chipped plates. The cornflowers she’d picked in the meadow were arranged in one of the mugs. She went out again looking for the room in which Spike had been staying. When she opened the last door at the end of the hallway, she saw Spike’s duster thrown across the bed. Several packs of cigarettes were on a small table. Lying next to the cigarettes was a thick envelope with ‘William’ written in a large old fashioned script. She slipped it into the pocket of her robe. She searched the wardrobe and found a blue wool dressing gown, similar to the one she wearing. She gathered up the duster, cigarettes and robe and went back to her room. She closed the door loudly behind her. “Rise and shine!” Spike jerked up from a deep sleep. “Is this going to become a very bad habit with you love?” he complained. She pulled the blankets off him and helped him put on the robe. “Come on baby, you need to eat.” “No blood, love.” “Not blood, food.” Spike made a face. A while later, he was significantly cheered up. Drinking a glass of scotch and peach juice, warmed up with hot water, and munching on Weetabix smeared with marmite and a huge chunk of canned ham, he exclaimed “You’re a bloody saint. Marry me!” “You’re too high maintenance. Here!” She tossed him a pack of cigarettes. “Ah, love. This could be heaven.” Buffy smiled softly and stared down at her hands. She held out her left hand and examined the silver ring that Spike had given her. Spike watched Buffy as she gazed at her hand in the firelight. “Would you bring me my duster, pet?” Buffy handed Spike his duster. He rummaged through the pockets and brought out a small piece of twisted brown paper. She watched curiously as he unwrapped the paper. He held up a silver ring, identical to, though much larger than hers. He slipped it on his finger. He looked up and gave her a big smile. “Is that better, love?” She laughed and quickly moved over to kneel beside his chair, taking his hand in hers and placing it against her cheek. “You never gave up hope, did you?” “Never. Always knew eventually I’d have free rein of your body.” She punched him playfully on his arm. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that!” She’d punched his injured arm. “Didn’t hurt.” He looked at her and his smile left his face. “Let me look at that.” She pulled his sleeve back and carefully unwrapped her makeshift bandage. She gasped. “It’s completely healed.” “Must have been the marmite,” his joke fell flat. “You healed like a vampire…” “No, no, love. Must be something else!” He interrupted her. “Or like a slayer…” She sat back on her heels and pulled the letter she’d found in Spike’s room from her pocket. “I think this is for you.” * * * * * Chapter 5 Spike took the letter from Buffy’s outstretched hand. He stood and went over and sat on the bed to read it. He slowly unfolded the letter. The pale cream colored stationery was thick and embossed in gold with a dragonfly and a bumblebee circling each other in a frozen dance. His hands trembled a bit, fearing its contents, fearing what it would mean for their future. Buffy left him alone. She bent down to stir the fire; then she sat down on the hearth, watching the play of flames and silently sharing in the fear she sensed emanating from him. * * * * * My Dear William, If you’re reading this letter, you’ve completed the first part of my little plan. Sorry about the little ‘staking’ incident. It was a necessary part of the first phase of your transformation. All these things were set in motion many years ago when I destroyed my dear love and then failed to protect her child, which I hope by now you realize is you. Many years after I killed my Slayer’s vampire lover, one of his minions, sworn to revenge, finally found me and turned me, cursing me to roam the world until I could find some way to “undo the circle of destruction” which I’d set in motion. Let me explain how I discovered your existence and the secret of your parentage. I’d had my spies out. You destroyed one of them that night in the cemetery. You may remember the old vampire who cursed you so, and triggered the recent chain of events. I’d sent him down to Sunnydale to keep an eye on you. Fourier was his name, my sire, actually. How he knew about you possibly being the Dragon, I’m not sure. Perhaps he intercepted Giles letter before it reached you, and perhaps he decided to keep that bit of information to himself to use against me. He always was a sneaky little worm. Anyway, it all began when you saved Miss Elizabeth’s life. You must have wondered a bit, why, after drinking so deeply of your blood, she didn’t turn as is usually the case. This is when I began to believe that you were the one. Well to make a long story short, I realized then that your blood was something special...strong enough to overcome the inevitable vampire conversion when mixed with true Slayer blood. She’s very strong, your girl, and quite the stubborn little thing if I don’t say so myself. I knew then I’d have a chance to redeem myself if only I could get you to agree to my plan. What I didn’t tell you is the price you’d have to pay. Reliving the night of my act of rage, and your conception, allowed you and Elizabeth to finally confront the deep bond which has always existed between you. What happened next was your choice. You could have eventually followed my course, but again if you’re reading this, then Elizabeth must have accepted you, forgiven you, and finally acknowledged her love for you and you in turn must have forgiven her for her murderous jealous rage. Forgiveness, yes, this is the first part of the deeper magic that may free you. In my years of wandering, I spent some time in Prague where I came across an old legend of the Dragon children. Dragon children are the offspring of a human woman and a vampire, an extremely rare occurrence. Their fate is to rise to become great leaders or magicians. They may become a force for good or evil, depending on the strength of their mother’s soul and the heritage of the father’s blood line. However, any reference to a child born of a slayer and a vampire was unheard of until your good friend Rupert Giles discovered the ‘Prophecy of the Dragon’. (I found this out from reading your letter from Giles, which I purloined from you the day you fell unconscious on my doorstep). I can tell you I was more than a little nervous, and a bit miffed at Fourier, when I realized just how precarious my little experiment would be. Of course, I realized his treachery when you told me about your encounter with him. For I knew then that if you and Elizabeth didn’t forgive each other, you surely would have evolved into the Dragon of the prophecy. I have no doubt of this, and the first thing you would have done was destroy her and the second thing you’d do is come after me. Well it seems that she let you drink deeply of her slayer blood and you’ve completed the first step. You must be wondering what you are now. Perhaps you believe you’re human, but I must warn you that this is only a temporary state, a necessity for the second step which is to get Elizabeth with child. This is critical for the cycle of death to end and for your Slayer to survive. The demon is not dead in you, just sleeping. You may keep him in abeyance by continuing to periodically drink the blood of the slayer, but eventually you will return to your previous physical state. However, your emotional and spiritual state is changed forever. You have claimed control now and William can arise within you and become the mate that Elizabeth will need in the years that follow. Of course you always have a choice. Just remember though, if you choose to surrender completely to your demon side, that you will indeed, someday become the Dragon. I leave it to your discretion how much of this letter you’d like to share with the Slayer. Perhaps now is not the right time. Well I was never good at judging how much to reveal to a woman as you so aptly pointed out to me the other night. One lie leads to another, until trust is completely unrecoverable and love dies. Remember that my friend, love can die. My final words to you are that you will always have a choice to go toward good or evil, even when the demon rises in you. This is the secret of the deeper, wilder magic. Nothing is inevitable. You can become the Dragonfly or the Dragon. This is your choice. Watch over your love and her child. Hold them in your heart which flows with the sacred blood of my beloved and the blood of your father who loved her so deeply. May the Universe forgive me, Bertram P.S. Sorry for the state of the house, illusion and reality, my favorite playthings! Oh and I’ve left you a little something, which I inherited from my sire. It will keep you and your child safe for a while. Look in the book I left on my library table. It’s the history of the Sinclair family. You might be interested in reading about your father’s life. Look at the entry for William Sinclair – I’ve marked it for you. P.S.S. About the chip. I’ve a curious tale for you which might give you a bit of courage for what’s lies ahead. Once there was a young boy who lived on the edge of a lake. His parents, always fearful that he would drown, always made him wear a life-preserver. He hated it desperately. Hated the way it encumbered his freedom in the water. One day in a rage, he ripped it off and flung it out into the deepest part of the lake. It sunk like a stone. Illusion and reality my friend, choose what you will. * * * * * Spike set the letter down on the bed and glanced over at Buffy. Sighing deeply, he made his decision. “Come here, Buffy. You need to read this.” She sat down beside him, and he put his arms about her, pulling her back onto the bed until they were lying in a gentle embrace. He gave her the letter and, lying in his arms, she began to read. He watched her intently, as she read the letter, his cheek resting lightly against her shoulder. When she finished reading, she dropped the letter to the floor beside the bed and turned to face him. “I don’t know what to say, William.” “Don’t have to say anything, love.” “Not sure if I’m ready to have a child.” “I think it may be too late.” He replied, thinking of their lovemaking in the gazebo. “I know.” “I thought this ‘wilder, deeper magic’ would be something more profound than just choosing.” “Making a choice is the deepest, wildest magic you can do love. I see that now.” “But what will happen to us? According to Bert, you’re still partially a vampire. Someday you won’t be able to walk in the sunlight with me ever again. And surely when I die you’ll be alone. Can you bear that? I can’t bear to think of you alone.” “I don’t know what I’ll do when you die Buffy; I can’t even think of it. At least you’ll live a lot longer than most Slayers, and I’ll be there always to watch you, protect you. You and our child.” “She won’t be a dragon child, will she?” “No love, I was mostly human when we made love last night. And how do you know it will be a girl. I’m sure it will be a boy!” “Don’t think I could handle two Williams running around,” she laughed. “Maybe you’ll have twins,” he said with a curious flash of insight. “No twins! Spike! Give me twins, and you’ll be in deep…!!” she cried. He silenced her cry with a kiss, opening her lips to taste her deeply. She responded fiercely, clinging to his strong shoulders, and pressing her body close to his. He pulled back and began to remove her robe, slipping his hands over her soft skin, dipping his hand into the warm flood of her arousal. “Feel like swimming, luv?” he teased. * * * * * He stripped her of her robe with one hand and removed his own with the other. “Let’s forget Bert for a while,” he murmured. “I need you.” “I can feel you need me,” she smiled, feeling the hardness of him pressing up against her. “Mmm…you really are the Big Bad.” She opened herself to him and he entered her slowly. “No Twins, ok?” she teased. “Don’t think we have any choice about that Slayer,” he said, and clasping her wrists in his hands he moved them swiftly above her head, pinning her completely beneath him. “You must surrender to your fate. That’s me, in case you’ve forgotten. And this is your salvation.” He thrust into her deeply and she closed her eyes in pleasure as his thick cock stretched and filled her. She struggled a bit against the strong grip of his hands on her wrists. She wanted to pull him closer, feel the whole hard length of his body slip across her skin, her breasts. She twisted her legs out from under him and flung them around his hips, forcing him tightly against her. He increased his pace, stroking deeply. He released her wrists and leaned back a bit so that he could watch her face as he moved inside her. “Buffy, love, you like being saved by me?” he gasped. “Yes, please, need lots more saving here,” she said breathlessly. Her skin was glistening with a light sweat, the heat from the fire and from his body flowing over her. He bent over and slowly lapped her skin with his tongue, tasting her sweet saltiness. She moaned as he softly licked the curve of her neck and the soft swell of her breast. She arched up against him as began to suckle on her swollen nipple. He pulled gently out of her and slowly moved down her body, licking the silken softness of her skin, tasting and savoring her. He spread her legs wide apart and nestled his head between her thighs and began to slowly lap and gently nip her swollen lips. She pressed her hands into his hair, forcing him tightly against her. He thrust his tongue deep inside her, greedily drinking in the slick, musky nectar flowing from her. When he felt her begin to come, he quickly moved back up her body and thrust his cock back inside her. He needed to feel her come around him, and needed to fill her up again with his seed. Needed to make sure that she would be safe and loved and in his arms always, always. “William, oh god, William don’t stop!” she cried as she came, “Don’t…” Suddenly the door of the bedroom burst open and wave of cold air swept into the room. “Stop!” A voice shouted from behind them. Spike gave one last deep thrust into Buffy as he came inside her. He pulled her tightly against him, rolling her over him to the other side of the bed and away from the door, trying to protect her from the intruder. Buffy looked up in horror as she saw Giles standing over the bed, about to thrust a stake deep into Spike. * * * * * “Don’t!” Buffy screamed just as the stake began to penetrate Spike’s skin. She reached out and ripped it out of Giles’ hand. “Bloody Hell!” Spike roared with pain. “Oh no, not again!” Giles froze, stunned into silence by the scene before him. A naked Buffy was giving him an extremely angry look while anxiously trying to stop the flow of bright red blood, gushing down Spike’s arm. “Don’t you knock?” she demanded. “What are you doing here anyway?” Giles lowered his eyes and turned slightly away, quickly trying to figure out how he’d got himself into this mess. “Eh, well you left a message, said you’d be back a week ago. Um…you never showed up and then we got this anonymous telegram,” he pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket and waved it toward her. “It said you were in serious danger and needed help. Gave this address.” Spike rolled over onto his stomach, groaning with the pain of his new injury. “Bert! You bloody git!” he moaned. “How many times do I have to relive your bloody pathetic life?” “And how did you get in here?” Buffy asked, “This whole place is locked up tight.” “I came in through the front door. It was unlocked.” “Unlocked?” Spike and Buffy said in unison. “He’s a goner, him and his little two-bit demon sidekick. What’s he playing at now?” Spike growled. “Thought this game was all over.” “Spike, ah…why is your blood so red?” Giles bent over to examine Spike’s wound; he lightly placed his finger next to the gaping hole he’d made in Spike’s arm. “You’re burning up Spike you’re …” He quickly stood back and surveyed the both of them. “What in the name of all that’s holy is going on here?” Buffy sighed. She nudged Spike a little so she could get her robe out from under his leg. She wrapped herself up and got out of bed, bending down to pick up Bert’s letter off the floor where she had dropped it. She stood up and took Giles by the hand and led him over to one of the armchairs sitting by the fireplace. The bottle of scotch was still sitting on the small table next to the chair. She poured Giles a stiff drink and handed it to him. “I think you’re gonna need this.” She handed him Bert’s letter and then went back to finish taking care of Spike. They could hear Giles muttering to himself as he read the letter, Spike’s eyes clouded over with apprehension as he watched a slightly shamed look cross Buffy’s face. “What’s she thinking, she’s pulling away from me, I can feel it, I can feel her seeing me through Giles eyes. I’m lost,” he thought as he turned from her and buried his face into the pillow. “Well that’s that.” Giles spoke abruptly, throwing the letter onto the table. “Buffy you’re coming with me now. Get your clothes on.” Buffy looked uncertainly back and forth between the two most important men in her life. Spike lay in ridged anger on the bed and Giles was scowling at her in disappointment. “Excuse me. Not going anywhere. In fact, I think I’ll take a bath while you two alpha males sort this out.” She stormed off to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She turned on the hot water tap and then remembered there was no heat. “Too bad, still a cold bath may be exactly what I need.” She stepped into the icy water. “Oh shit!” she yelled. She heard a sudden movement from outside the door. “Are you ok in there?” Spike called. “Get lost!” she yelled. “I warned you to stay away from her!” she could hear Giles yelling. She put her hands over her ears to try to block the sudden eruption of angry voices coming from the bedroom. She lowered herself slowly into the icy water. About ten minutes later, she heard the door to the bedroom slam and someone pounding down the stairs. She got out of the tub and wrapped herself back in her robe and slowly opened the bathroom door. She was desperately afraid. She just knew he’d run away from her again. She’d betrayed him again...humiliated him in from of Giles. She looked into the bedroom and saw a dark figure sitting in the armchair by the fireplace. She couldn’t breathe. Then she noticed a wisp of smoke rising up from the chair. “Spike?” she whispered. “Hello love, enjoy your bath?” She flung herself across the room and into his arms. “Ouch! Steady there Slayer, you’re as cold as a bloody vampire.” * * * * * Buffy shivered and snuggled deeper into Spike’s lap. He rubbed her feet. “Icicles.” They sat peacefully in silence and watched the sun rise through the bedroom window. The sky was a delicate soft pink from the sun’s early rays reflecting off the low lying wisps of fog. As the room grew brighter, Buffy noticed Giles’s bag sitting near the door. “What happened to Giles?” she asked hesitantly. “Threw the wanker out.” “Gone?” “No, love,” he kissed her hair softly. “You need him, wouldn’t do that.” “Where is he?” “Sent him down to library. Thought he could check out the little present Bert left for me. Do something a bit more useful than interrupting our very important business.” “Important?” “I take my responsibilities very seriously.” He smiled and adjusted himself in the chair. “Ah, love, could you move a bit? Got this strange tingly feeling in my leg.” Buffy stretched out her legs and started to rise from his lap. “Did I ever tell you how much I love those beautiful strong legs of yours?” he said grasping her around the waist and pulling back into his lap. “Shouldn’t we go down and see what Giles is doing?” “Not his bloody watcher, love. My job is to watch you and your lovely legs there.” “But Giles.” “Look I’m sure he’s having a field day down in Bert’s library. Probably riffling through the section on unusual vampire sexual rites. Bert has several interesting books on that subject, as a matter of fact…” Buffy stopped his monologue with a kiss. “Do you always talk so much?” An hour later, they were getting dressed. Buffy pulled on the wrinkled jeans and sweatshirt she was wearing when she first arrived at Bert’s house. Spike dressed himself in the elegant pants and sweater that Ernest had given him. “I look like hell and you look like you just walked off the cover of GQ. Not fair.” “I am a beautiful specimen. You’re quite the lucky girl. Wanna get lucky?” “Enough!” She gave him a quick kick right on the backside. A small dusty footprint marred the expensive wool of his trousers. She began laughing uncontrollably. “Hey! What’s so funny?” “Nothing,” she choked, “Let’s go downstairs.” They left the room, hand in hand, and walked slowly down the staircase. They found Giles sitting at the library table. Several books and a small pile of papers were scattered before him. “Hi,” Buffy said tentatively. “Good morning Buffy...ah…Spike…William.” He looked nervously at Spike. “So what’d you find mate?” “Let’s see, a book on the history of the Sinclair family, quite revealing, a bit strange…” He gave Spike an odd look and then continued. “Well…some of these books are quite valuable,” he quickly changed the subject, “…several first editions…look at this copy of Thomas Hardy’s Jude the Obscure.” He held up an old leather bound book. “My god you could live for a few years on that alone.” “What’re you saying Rupert?” “Ah…yes, well, then there’s this.” He pointed to a thick parchment like document lying on the table. “The last Will and Testament of a Mr. Bertram William Sinclair the Third.” Buffy picked the document up from the table and tried to read it. “Codicil the second? As Set forth for the Party of the First Part? Obscure much?” Giles took it from Buffy’s hands. “We’ll need to go to a lawyer with this, but if I read it correctly, well, William, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about money for a long time.” Spike leaned back nonchalantly against the bookcase. “Left me a spot of cash, eh? Some musty old books. Soothing his conscience I suspect.” “I don’t think you quite realize what I’m saying here, Spike.” Giles spoke impatiently. “Well just spit it out Watcher.” “You’re a rich…ah…man. But there’s a little problem…you see, technically you don’t exist.” “No problem, mate. Get me some papers while my temperature’s still around 98.6. I’ll just breeze in and pick up the loot.” “You just can’t just ‘get papers’. There’s a great deal of very complicated paperwork to consider and legal proceedings.” Spike paced the room. “Call Clem. He’s got contacts.” “Clem?” Giles said incredulously. “You know good looking bloke with floppy ears. Whiz at kitten poker.” “You want me to contact a demon to procure illegal papers for you, from god knows where, so you can ‘breeze’ into court and pick up five million dollars?” “Five what!?” Spike sat down abruptly. “I said five million dollars along with some property down in Sunnydale. Let’s see, a set of china, some paintings and the contents of this library.” Spike put his head in his hands. Giles gave Buffy a long questioning look and started to speak. Buffy shook her head. She walked over to where Spike was sitting and placed her hand on the back of his neck. She slowly stroked his skin. “Are you ok sweetheart?” Spike said in a muffled voice, “Don’t want it.” “What do you mean? You can’t mean that!” she exclaimed. “It’s a trap. I feel it. Feel it in my bones.” “You’re being stupid. Just think of the freedom it’d buy us,” she answered angrily. “And what about our child? What about me?” He stood up abruptly. “Don’t you see? Can’t you see? It’s changed things already.” He pointed to her angry face. “Giles, you deal with this. Do what you need to do. I’ll take the books and the property if you can get them for me. But I don’t want the money. I need some air.” He grabbed the Thomas Hardy off the table and stalked out of the library and into the ballroom. He banged open the French doors and went out onto the veranda. He flung himself down on one of the rickety lounge chairs. He opened the book and read the frontpiece: Jude the Obscure Thomas Hardy “The letter killeth” * * * * * He gazed around at the leaf strewn veranda, the broken glass of the French door and the tangle of vines. He said out loud, “Tom, my man, you were right. Too many bleeding letters will kill you.” He turned the pages to the first chapter and began to read. * * * * * Part First AT MARYGREEN "Yea, many there be that have run out of their wits for women, and become servants for their sakes. Many also have perished, have erred, and sinned, for women....O ye men, how can it be but women should be strong, seeing they do thus? ---ESDRAS. * * * * * And he thought suddenly of Cecily and all the heartbreak loving her had caused. “Women are a damn ferocious species. Don’t know who this Esdras was, bit of a wanker. Seems to me a man ought to take a bit of responsibility for his own feelings.” He thought of Buffy, his Elizabeth, and thought that he was far luckier than other males. He had the love of a Slayer, the strong tender heart of a woman who could face the wild ride that lay before them. He closed the book and placed it on the lounge next to him. He stood up and stretched, wondering at the feeling of blood pulsing in his heart; he could feel it churning through his body, warming him, filling him with emotions and thoughts that he hadn’t had for a hundred years. There was something very melancholy about feeling, being alive, which he’d forgotten. The sense that death hovered out there somewhere and that each moment or breath was something that would never be again, like constantly saying goodbye. It was something a vampire needn’t worry about. Death had already come and been conquered, and if you were careful, eternity would stretch out before you like an endless ocean. Timeless. Vampires were filthy rich with time, minutes, days, years, eons, wasted and spent without a thought. He slowly walked down the veranda stairs and out into the tangle of the overgrown garden. He wandered aimlessly, lost in thought. This now, this carefulness with time, with each moment, he thought, was particularly critical for him as he knew his time in this living state would be severely limited. Was it worth it? Worth it to go through all this pain and turmoil? Would something be left inside him when he slowly turned back into his original vampire form? He thought of her dancing in the meadow, lying with her underneath the sunlight, and giving her a child, perhaps to remember him as he was now, to remember these past few magical days. “I could write a poem for her...write for her what’s in my heart, so she’ll understand who William was.” Somewhere in his mind, it was as if he was waking up from a long sleep. He could feel William rising in him: tender, sweet and very passionate and vulnerable. William, who’d never had a chance to become a man, to struggle through the dreary dance, to find love. He had a chance to give him that now. Share a few of his moments of eternity with him. Let him live for a while. He felt certain that his reaction to the money was coming directly from William’s heart inside of him, and it had been such a bizarre feeling. Spike would never have turned down such a windfall. Wouldn’t have thought twice about it. And yet, perhaps it was his Spike self that had the worldly wisdom, the knowledge of evil, to recognize the gift for what it probably was. “Let William choose”, he said to himself. He surrendered to the curious partnership of his two selves: one knowing the dark, one the light, both perhaps seeking the middle ground. And then his practical Spike self rose a bit and thought, “William you’re a bit of a bloody dreamer. Do you know how much it’ll cost to keep the Slayer in leather pants?” Buffy found him sitting on the edge of the wildflower meadow. He sat underneath the hawthorn tree and was twirling a dead branch idly in his hands, occasionally swinging it against a patch of dried grass. She stood next to him for a while, gazing at the completely changed scene. “What happened to all the wildflowers?” she asked. “Looks like they died, love. Spring’s over.” He gazed out over the meadow which was covered with tall tufts of dried grass, swaying softly in the breeze which came up from the ocean. It was still beautiful in its subtle barrenness. The bleached strands of grass gave off a sweet, clean scent which mingled with the rich salty scents of the sea. “I’m sorry,” she began, “You know, back there,” she waved toward the house, “I didn’t mean to be so angry. I’m trying to understand what you want, but it’s hard.” “What you need to understand about me, love, is I know evil, lived evil, can smell it a thousand miles away. It’s blood money. How many people died so this little pile of cash could come to me? My father? The people he and his minions killed? I bloody well know how vamps get their money and it’s not by working at Kmart. Is this the way you want us to start our life together? And it’s not just that love. Money like this does something to humans. It eats them up inside, makes them hollow and bloodless and always looking over their shoulders for the one who’ll take it all away. Makes them able to walk by a dying man lying in the street without a second glance. Perhaps a few weeks ago, this wouldn’t have mattered to me...would have jumped on the cash. But you see it’s like this. It’s William, er…it’s me, now as I am now, I just have this feeling that if I choose this, it’ll kill me—kill William who is inside me crying to be born. The only thing I want in this world is you love...you and whoever is inside there,” he reached his hand out and gently patted her stomach. She sat down on the grass next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. She began to realize how profound this transformation, this time alive, was affecting him. He was changing, and she remembered Bertram’s words to her the first time she’d met him in Spike’s special garden. “Dragonflies, such a difficult life they lead. So much beauty purchased at such a terrible price. They’re very brave.” All she could do was watch and love him through this metamorphosis of skin and heart and blood. A small fear ran through her that, perhaps, she didn’t know and wouldn’t know this new person rising up inside him, forged in pain and sorrow, born in joy. Perhaps this new being wouldn’t love her as Spike had. And she realized then, how desperately she was clinging to the demon inside of him, unwilling to accept what he might become. She had to do it...choose him, whatever, and accept that he might become something wildly unpredictable and unknown to her. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be there with you, ok?” She said, bravely swallowing her fear. “It’s the choice, the damn choice. Bloody hell. I thought it would be something easy like choosing not to take a big bite out of Bert and or stake him with his bleeding cane.” He threw the branch in his hand violently out into the meadow. It stuck upright into the soft earth. It must have disturbed a small nest of bumblebees for soon they were buzzing around the stick and lazily out over the grass toward them. “Ah… Spike, we’d better run…don’t know if you remember what a bee sting feels like.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the grass. “You like to drag me around, don’t you pet,” he laughed. “Always and forever, William.” She smiled and then she pulled him into a run up the garden path. Continued Back to Dragonfly Series Home Back to Dark Dreams |