| Part Three : Ready for the Storm to want calm order to need frenzy chaos torn each way until both paths converge |
| * * * * * Spike paced restlessly outside his crypt. “Where is she?” he thought angrily. “She promised me—promised me she’d be here by now.” He stopped and flung himself down on the damp grass. He tried to stop the thoughts racing through his mind. Tried to stop his demon self from rising to the surface. “Bloody, bloody bitch,” he growled, slowly losing control. His need for her was unbearable. “I’m completely buggered,” he thought, and pounded his head on the ground, hoping to drive away the images of her flashing before him. Buffy beneath him, yielding, loving. Buffy lost and hurt, Buffy staring at him with complete and utter hatred. “Oh my god,” he moaned, “Somebody put me out of my misery.” He crawled back into his crypt, searching for something to drink. Then he remembered that Miss Good Housekeeping had cleaned the place out. He sniffed the air and winced. The strong smell of rosemary, sitting in the glass jar on the table, filled the room. He grabbed the jar, went to the door of his crypt and flung it out the door. “That’s what I think of your bloody promises Slayer,” he yelled. He strode angrily off into the night. Buffy was on patrol alone. She planned to stay out all night...to avoid all places in which Spike might be lurking. She had to have time to think. Be away from him. When he was near, she literally could not separate her being from his. She thought about him waiting for her and what he’d do when she didn’t show up. But she had to think, because everything was moving too deep, too fast. The fact that she’d almost died when he abandoned her, and the way he claimed her so ruthlessly, heartlessly in the Bronze last night made her shiver in dread. She was very, very afraid. He could be so loving and tender but he was still a demon, a vampire with dark emotions she could only begin to fathom. She realized that she really didn’t know who he truly was and she suspected that he might not really know himself. Their love was sending them tumbling down an avalanche of emotion, fear, hate and love they could not control. “Someone has to be in control,” she thought sadly. “It might as well be me.” Buffy slept in late. She stretched out her arms and gave a sigh of contentment. It had felt wonderful to be on patrol alone last night focusing only on her mission in life, her reason for being. She was the Slayer again…powerful and strong and doing the impossible, destroying evil as it threatened those she loved and those she’d never know. For the first time since she’d come back from the dead, she didn’t feel resentful. Someone had to be the Slayer. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone else yet she was grateful that she had a chance to do something meaningful with her life. She suddenly pictured herself in the Bronze with Spike behind her, holding her tightly and obscenely, ravaging her from behind. She hadn’t stopped him. She hadn’t wanted to stop him. Her need for him…her desire for him to be inside her was completely mindless and out of control. Where was all her Slayer power when it came to loving him? She closed her eyes and tried to drive the images of him from her mind. She buried herself deeper into her blankets and tried to seek refuge again in sleep. “Buffy wake up!” It was Dawn calling outside her bedroom door. “It’s noon and you said you’d drive me to the lake.” Buffy groaned and rolled out of bed. She dressed quickly in old jeans and a tattered grey sweatshirt. She didn’t put on makeup or brush her hair. She caught her hair up in a rubber band and went down to the living room. “You look like hell,” Dawn smirked. “Teenagers,” Buffy sighed to herself. She picked up the car keys and walked out the door. They drove in silence to the lake. Buffy was never sure what to say to Dawn these days. Everything she said seemed to be the wrong thing—seemed to send Dawn farther and farther away from her. She missed her little sister. But now she that she had to be both mother and sister, things were very complicated between them. “One day Dawn will grow up and won’t hate me anymore,” Buffy thought wistfully. “How will you get home?” Buffy asked. “Mariane’s mom is going to pick us up later, so don’t worry. I’m going to stay at Mariane’s tonight. Her dad promised to take us out to dinner and a movie.” Dawn waved Buffy away and bounded off to join her friends who were laughing and splashing around down by the water’s edge. Buffy slowly drove off. She thought sadly of Dawn’s eagerness to spend time with her friend Mariane. Mariane had a real family: a mother and father who cared for her and did all those wonderful family things that Buffy never seemed to have the time to do with Dawn. She shook herself out of her self-pity and began appreciating the beautiful scenery of the lake. It had been many years since she’d been there. She hadn’t had much time for fun or laughing with friends these past years. She remembered the secluded beach on the other side of the lake. She’d found it once when she’d gone fishing with her Dad so many years ago. It had been a horrible day. Nothing she’d done had pleased him. That was the day she realized that what he truly wanted was a son, not a daughter. He’d yelled at her for tangling the fishing line on her pole for the umpteenth time. She’d slunk away into the woods and wandered alone until she came upon the small, isolated beach. She’d spent the rest of the day there alone with herself and her imagination. It had turned out to be a glorious day for her, an epiphany in her life. She’d realized then that she could live without his love and approval. Buffy made a quick decision. She turned the car around and headed back around the lake toward her beach. She needed another epiphany fast. * * * * * Spike was losing it. He’d beaten up every demon and vampire he’d run into last night. He’d been tempted to beat up a few humans but was reluctant to subject himself to the pain. He’d finally gone home before dawn and slept fitfully most of the day. He was waiting for her to come to him even waking restlessly at every sound as he slept. He felt like hell. Why was she avoiding him? He thought of how he’d tried to force her to see that now that she was his mate, she would be forever apart from her friends…her human world. He needed to know that she would understand what it meant to choose him and love him. She hadn’t resisted his rather ruthless approach. He claimed her...marked her before her friends. She had opened herself greedily and warmly to him as he penetrated her in the dark. She’d whimpered and moaned his name...met him thrust for thrust. But afterwards, he could sense she was withdrawing from him. He sensed her fear and uncertainty and finally, the brutal heat of her anger. Perhaps he’d been too impatient to make her understand him. He needed to know that she truly saw him as he was but that she still loved, still needed and still cared for him. Perhaps he wanted the impossible. The Slayer had disappeared. No one seemed to know where she was. His studiedly casual inquiries to her friends left him with no answers. He’d driven by her house six times already and it was dark and abandoned. He drove back down the main street of Sunnyvale and suddenly spotted Dawn sitting outside the coffee shop with one of her friends. He pulled the car slowly to the curb and yelled out to her. She walked over to his window. “Hey Spike.” she smiled. “Hey Dawn”, he said, trying not to appear too anxious. “Have you seen Buffy around?” Dawn gave a shrug, “Who knows, who cares.” Spike gave her a surprised looked and said carefully, “Well, when was the last time you saw her, luv?” Dawn replied, “She drove me out to the lake this afternoon. Haven’t seen her since. I’m staying with friends tonight so I guess she’s reveling in her freedom from motherhood. Well, gotta go,” she said looking over towards her friend who was waving to her impatiently. “See ya.” Spike drove off deep in thought. A few more conversations later, Spike realized that no one had seen Buffy since she’d dropped Dawn off at the lake. * * * * * She was surprised at how easy it was for her to find the beach. She parked her car off the dirt road, unconsciously hiding it among a small grove of manzanitas. She’d found some old blankets and a sleeping bag in the trunk of her car and spread them out on the sand. She lay fully clothed in the sun letting it’s warmth penetrate her body, warm her, lull her into a deep relaxing nap. After an hour or so, she woke up and felt hungry so she went back to her car and, after rummaging around, found 2 bars of chocolate and an orange. She lay back down on her blankets and slowly ate one of the chocolate bars. It satisfied her hunger for the moment...gave her a quick shot of energy. She stood up and brushed off the bit of sand that clung to her pants. “Time to explore,” she smiled to herself. She spent the next few hours, before the sun set, wandering through the woods and up the small hill that rose behind her beach. She found an outcrop of granite near the top of the hill and sat there staring out over the lake. She thought of all she’d been through these last months: her mother’s death, her own death, and being dragged back from the deepest peace she’d ever know into this world. “You came back wrong,” Spike had told her. She’d dismissed it then as just Spike trying to get a rise out of her...to get attention. But as she sat in the late afternoon sun, looking at all the beauty that surrounded her, she wondered what those words really meant. She wondered if Spike, in his love for her, knew exactly what was wrong or different about her, and wondered if it had anything to do with the obsessive love she now felt for him. She wondered if Spike liked the fact that she’d “come back wrong” because it meant that it was his only chance to truly get under her skin...to make her love him. Perhaps he believed that her old Slayer self would never have become his so completely. She wondered if he loved her enough to let her find out what exactly had gone wrong with her and let her find her way back to her old self, if that was truly the problem. Her fear. Her fear was that he could only love this somehow “wrong” self that she’d become. The gentle slope of the hill was covered in poppies and lupine and the sweet scent of the dry grass filled her with a wild longing. She closed her eyes and saw him standing before her. His soulless eyes so loving, so filled with heart and life and anguish. His eyes were a paradox, a chaotic jumble of realities and unknown depths. She shivered, thinking of his hands—his hands upon her face and skin, his slow stroking into her body, and how he claimed her so completely. “Would I give this up?” she thought, “For what in return?” She realized that she’d wanted guarantees, promises that wouldn’t be broken, and trusts that would never be betrayed. She’d wanted innocence and purity, and love that was warm and parental. But that was the world of childhood, a world that she’d left behind completely when she died…when her mother died. Perhaps what was “wrong” about her was she’d come back as an adult. And then run smack into the overwhelming power of her love and lust for Spike. She had no point of reference...no mentor or family to guide her through this powerful transition of life. No one to teach her about change, about saying goodbye to childish things, and about forgiveness. Just as she’d crossed the threshold, they’d all disappeared, abandoned her. All except Spike. What did it mean that he was in her life now? Why Spike? Was there some Slayer prophecy out there unrevealed to her? Was it just tragedy, fate or plain bad luck? Perhaps he was a gift. Perhaps he was sent to test her, or maybe help her find her way out of the labyrinth of her life...teach her something about forgiveness and letting go. She suddenly saw his behavior toward her at the Bronze the other night from his perspective. She recognized his fear—his fear of losing her, his fear of revealing to her his demon side with all its rage and anger and dark deeds. She envisioned him fearing that she would finally turn from him in disgust, yet still desperately needing her to know and accept and finally forgive and love him for being who he was. She thought about how hard he’d tried to tame and reconcile his demon and his love for her. He’d lived much longer in this world than she. He knew everything about betrayal and mistrust and hatred. Yet he’d forgiven her so many things. So many small cruel moments and comments that she’d directed unfeelingly toward him. He’d shrugged them all off and loved her still. He’d told that if he couldn’t have all of her, he wanted nothing. Could she say that about her love for him? Could she say to him that if she couldn’t have all of him, both his human and demon self, that she wanted nothing? It was his demon self that had fed her through the night as she lay dying, that had taken her from her house and brought her to her true home and saved her life yet again with his very own blood. She felt a pang of regret about not meeting him last night. She knew he’d be worried, then angry, and then deeply hurt. And she knew in that moment that she truly, deeply wanted all of him. She slowly stood up and stretched out her legs. “Time to face the world. Time to grow up Buffy,” she thought to herself, “and become a woman.” * * * * * She packed the car in the twilight and climbed into the driver’s seat and tried to start the engine. The battery was dead. “Damn!” She hated the thought of walking all those miles back to town now. Just when she was feeling a bit of calm, this had to happen. “Damn car”, she beat her fist on the dashboard giving it a serious dent. Now she’d have to spend more money, which she didn’t have. She sat in the car in the dark for a few minutes and then sighed in resignation. “Oh well,” she said to herself, “I haven’t been camping in years.” She unpacked the car again and quickly set up a snug bed under a pine tree away from the shore. She sat on the blanket and watched the moon rise over the lake. The lake was glass still and reflected the moon in its depths. It was so beautiful, and full and inviting. She stood up and stripped off her clothes and walked slowly into the water. She waded in, until the water covered her waist, and some deep impulse made her raise her hands up to try to grasp the moonlight. She felt herself dissolving into both water and moon and into the soft wind slowly blowing across the lake. She was no longer separate or alone...no longer a small being struggling wearily across the face of the earth. She was something fuller and wilder as she blossomed into the infinite universe before her. In that quiet moment, her heart full, she felt his call, felt the fine silver thread of light which bound them, which had always, always existed. She called his name, sang his name out load and it echoed hauntingly across the lake. “Love,” she cried, “come to me.” * * * * * Spike was frantic. No one seemed to care that the Slayer had all but vanished after driving Dawn up to the lake. Everyone was busy with their own lives…their own miserable human problems. He discovered that Buffy had already missed several appointments today, but everyone just shrugged it off. He couldn't bear the thought of not knowing where she was, not knowing if she was alive or dead. He slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a kitten sitting in the street. The kitten stared fearfully at the tire that had just missed him. Spike got out of the car. "Here kitty, kitty", he called. The kitten looked at him suspiciously. The man bending over him smelled like a predator. Spike scooped the kitten up and tossed him in the back of the car. "I feel like the bloody animal control bloke," he said "roving around looking for the lost." He thought it was time to head out to the lake again for the third time. He'd driven around the whole lake twice already, burnt his hands in the sun, but had found no sign of Buffy. He thought that perhaps in the dark, he would be able to roam the lake and pick up her scent. If she was there, that is. “This is what she went through when I disappeared,” he thought. “How could I have done that to her? I feel bloody awful now after just a day, what would I do if she disappeared for a month. Or forever,” he shivered. What was this "thing" between him and her? He'd never known of a relationship between Slayer and a true Vampire. Yet he felt compelled to love her. He just couldn't help himself; it consumed him. He'd tried to forget her when he ran away to San Francisco. Time had made no difference. Each day had been worse than the next. He remembered how he made her drink his blood for hours, until he was nearly gone himself. And then how she begged him to love her, which he did. Spike smiled at the memory. So where was she now? He stopped the car at the top of a small hill and got out to look around. He heard her voice crying out in the night. His demon surged and he raced toward her voice. He smashed down through the brush growling incoherently, trying to call to her but the demon was too strong in him. He stumbled out of the trees onto a small beach and stopped suddenly, shaken by the sight before him. She was standing naked in the water with her back to him. Her hands were raised above her shoulders, the moonlight catching her short hair as she slowly moved her head back and forth in the rhythm of her song. She was singing to him...calling him. He had never seen anything so beautiful or so sad. He struggled, without success to return to his human face so that when he went to her, she wouldn't be afraid. He had to go to her as he was. He plunged into the water and struggled out to where she stood. She slowly turned around at the sound of his splashing. He waited for her to recoil at the sight of his hideous demon visage. Instead, she reached out to him, smiling with love. * * * * * She reached up and grasped his shoulders. He trembled at her touch, waiting for her rejection. He drank in the scent of her blood pulsing through her strong body. His demon completely obliterated all trace of his human face. He grabbed her around the waist with his claws drawing her blood and sending him deeper into his dark nature. She cried out and then pulled his head down to her breast. In a quiet, heartbreaking voice, she told him, “If you need me, if you need to drink me, need to turn me, then I am here. I won’t leave you again.” She kissed his hair, his brow; she covered his face with tender kisses. “I love you Spike. You, Spike. Love the demon and the man.” He caught her up in his arms and carried her out of the lake. He found the small bed she’d made for herself and dropped her abruptly. She lay before him with her slender legs slightly parted. He stripped himself and stood before her naked in the moonlight. She gazed up at him: her vampire, her demon, her man. “Come here, beautiful,” she said. He growled hungrily and flung himself on her. He took her passionately and quickly. She rose to meet him and matched his insatiable passion with her own wild frenzy. The lake echoed with their cries as they mated again, and again, truly and deeply in the night. Now I Know What Love Is He whispers, please don't go I cannot be without your voice So low, and gentle Soothing me to tenderness Be my love, awake with me Hold my heart at dawn Though I fear this love, Fear dark passion and betrayal And nights unmarked with sleep Your lips against my hair, My hands a tangled vine entwined Beneath the softness of your skin, I flee to find oblivion I seek a thousand dreamless years Yet I cannot bear to wake without you I cannot bear a day alone I look into your eyes and I am lost I look into your eyes And I am home Break here upon my shore Break here and dissolve Falling here, fallen here Beneath a wild god * * * * * “Wake up, wake up Spike,” Buffy shook Spike’s shoulders and then pinched him hard on his stomach. It was still a few hours before dawn. “Ouch. Geez Slayer.” Spike said sleepily, “Is that anyway to treat the demon who made you come 10 or so times last night,” he gave her a slow, sexy smile. They were both zipped up in the sleeping bag. The fit was “quite tight” and Buffy could feel something cool and hard against her thigh starting to come back to life. “Beast.” she said and bit him on the chest. He squirmed around in the sleeping bag until he was laying on top of her. “Yes, I’m your beast, luv,” he growled, nuzzling her neck and then he proceeded to show her why having a beast in her sleeping bag was a good thing. A little while later, Buffy crawled out of the bag and had a good stretch. She looked down at Spike who was frowning at the site of a naked Slayer cavorting around out of his reach. “Come here,” he demanded. Buffy laughed, “Aren’t you just the Big Bad? You were having a nightmare. That’s why I woke you up. It was just heartbreaking to hear you moan…let’s see… something about kittens attacking you. Have you been gambling again?” “Bloody kitten, oh my god, what’s he done to my car?” Spike tried to jump out of the bag, tripped and landed face down in the sand. Buffy grabbed his hand and helped him up. “Come on beast. Time for your bath. You can explain the kitten thing to me later.” The water was cold, even for Spike. He complained the whole way as Buffy dragged him into the lake. “Such a baby,” Buffy laughed as she splashed the icy water over his head and tried to rinse the sand out of his hair. He stopped protesting when she began to wash him thoroughly with her strong hands. “Hmm, luv, could you rub that part a little lower there?” He placed her hand on his growing erection. She tried to pull her hand away and he clasped her into a tight embrace. “I’m very hungry pet,” he whispered against the smooth curve of her neck. “May I have a little taste?” He lifted her gently above him and entered her slowly. She wrapped her legs around his back, moaning with the thick feel of him stretching her. He caught her lower lip with his teeth and then forced his tongue deep into her mouth. He filled her completely. She came, moaning his name. He felt her muscles tighten over his shaft and then bath him in a warm flood. He drew her head back and begged her, “I’m hungry.” Her eyes darkened as she surrendered to his need. He groaned and bit deeply into her, sucking, drinking deeply, and continuing to thrust into her in mindless rhythm. He was in utter ecstasy. Her blood flowing down his throat as he filled her with his orgasm. And then she came again. “An even dozen, by my count, pet.” Spike smirked as he tossed Buffy her sweatshirt. They were shivering, laughing, trying to get dry, and futilely attempting to get dressed without getting sand in their clothes. “Proud much?” Buffy leaned over and kissed his ice cold nose. “Now tell me about those killer kittens.” * * * * * “I could be a cat.” Buffy cradled the kitten against her breast. “You are a cat, luv...my sweet little pussy girl.” Spike patted her thigh possessively, as he drove slowly down the road from the lake. “I am not, repeat not, your sweet little pussy girl.” “Could’ve fooled me, pet. All purry and wild last night and lapping cream.” Buffy snuggled the kitten close against her neck. “I do like cream. Ice cream. Vanilla.” She glanced at him under her lashes and sighed. “I think I’ll call him William. He looks so proper with his…ouch!” The kitten sunk his claws into her neck. She held him up away from her body. “Demon!” The cat claimed his true name. They drove on in a comfortable silence, which was broken occasionally by Buffy’s remarks to Demon about what his new home would be like and how he would be expected to behave. Spike listened to her voice with a wistful look on his face. “Lucky cat,” he thought, “going to live with the Slayer and be loved and petted all day long.” “Slay…Buffy,” he said, hesitantly “What do we do now?” “Not sure what you mean, Spike. We go home now.” “Well, I mean,” he said stumbling on, “Ah…well do ‘we’ go home or do you go home and then I go home…uh, damn bloody fool,” he mumbled under his breath. “Hmm, not quite sure I understand your syntax there.” Buffy teased. “Nothing. Forget it.” He refused to speak to her the rest of the way into town. He parked the car in front of her house. She opened the car and got out without looking at him. He sat, staring in front of him, unmoving in the front seat. She took several steps away from the car. “If she takes one more step, I’m leaving for good.” He closed his eyes, fighting back anger and tears. “Are you coming?” She was standing right next to his car door. “Not sure what you mean, Slayer,” he said coldly. “Home.” She smiled. She opened his door, grabbed him by his duster and dragged him out of the car, up the walkway, and through the front door and deposited him inside the house. He sat awkwardly on the couch and listened, wide-eyed, to her as she stood in front of him, and explained what his new home would be like and how he would be expected to behave. He looked down at Demon, who was snuggled up next to his leg. “We’re completely whipped, Mate,” he sighed happily. * * * * * “Forget it. You are not bringing that back to my house.” Buffy stood in the middle of Spike’s crypt and frowned down at what he was dragging across the floor. “Your house? I thought it was our house now? Is this how it plays? You get what you want and I’m buggered, eh?” Spike dropped the mannequin to the floor. “I have lots of fond memories attached to that…” Buffy gave the mannequin a quick kick and sent it smashing into the wall of the crypt. She looked around the bleak room and its shabby contents. “How ‘bout we just have a nice big bonfire?” With a swift movement, Spike picked up a box containing his record, CD, and video collections. “You’re not touching these!” Buffy walked over to him and reached in the box to shuffle through its contents. “Pathetic,” she snorted. “Cheerleaders, ugh. And what are all these videos without labels?” She lifted one out of the box and examined it. Spike grabbed it out of her hand. “Don’t you bloody well touch my stuff, Slayer. Some things are private. You’d do well not to ask.” He started to morph a bit in anger. “Touchy subject? Your own private porn collection?” She began to laugh but stopped suddenly at the look of despair in his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry baby. I won’t tease you anymore. Let’s see. Maybe we can set up a special place in the basement where you can keep all your treasures.” She walked over to the shattered mannequin on the floor and nudged it with the toe of her shoe. “Though, I’m afraid this is beyond repair…” She gave him an unrepentant smile. “Okay, let’s go downstairs and get the rest of your junk...er treasures..” An hour later, they unfinished unloading all Spike’s things at Buffy’s house and, except for his clothes and his special boxes, they moved everything down to the basement. He refused to leave his treasures, as he called them, down in the dampness. “Don’t trust your plumbing.” he said. They took everything else upstairs to her bedroom. “I can’t keep my clothes in your closet when it’s full of stakes, holy water and crucifixes, luv,” Spike complained, “Fraid I’ll get dusted accidentally trying to find just the right knickers to wear. Can’t you put them somewhere else?” The rest of the afternoon was spent in similar conversation or argument. Dawn came back from school to find Buffy and Spike sitting at the kitchen table arguing over the refrigerator. “Spike! What are you doing here? Eww...what’s that smell?” She exclaimed. “Spike forgot to put his breakfast back in the refrigerator this morning.” Buffy said disdainfully. Spike looked rebelliously at Buffy, “You might recall, Pet, that someone distracted me with an urgent matter.” Buffy blushed. Dawn looked curiously at the two of them. “What’s going on here?” * * * * * Later that night, Spike and Buffy sat next to each other on the couch in the living room. Spike's arm was around Buffy's shoulders and he stroked the back of her neck with his hand. Buffy leant back against his chest with her eyes closed. She looked exhausted. “Umm…well that went well, you think?” Spike asked. “You mean she hasn’t reported me to social services yet?” “No, I mean, she seemed to be relieved. Well, that is after the little talking to she gave us. And look how she’s taken to Demon.” “I’m so tired, Spike. Don’t want to talk or think about anything. Don’t even care if Sunnydale is overrun with vampires and demons tonight. I have to sleep…Must sleep.” “Don’t worry, Pet. Got your patrolling duties covered. Let me tuck you in.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her up to her room. He placed her on the bed and slowly undressed her. Buffy lay limply, letting him take over. “Uh…Slayer, you have to help here a little bit,” Spike smiled at her complete surrender to his ministrations. “Want a shower?” “No, no, must sleep. Sleep is good.” Buffy yawned and curled up on her side watching him place her clothes in the closet. “It’s vampire safe now,” she smiled at him sleepily. “Nite.” Spike pulled the covers up and tucked them under her chin. “Nite, luv. Be back soon. Dream of me.” He bent over and kissed her cheek. Before he left the room, Buffy had fallen into a deep sleep. Buffy woke up at a strange scratching sound coming from outside her door. “Spike, is that you?” There was no answer. She sat up suddenly and looked at the clock next to her bed. It was 4 am and Spike had not returned. “Something’s happened. Something’s wrong. She threw on her bathrobe and opened her bedroom door. Demon was sitting outside her door. He gave a little meow, and then disappeared down the stairs. Buffy followed him into the living room where she found Spike sitting in the dark. “Spike, what are you doing down here?” Buffy walked over and stood in front of him. Spike sat silently looking down at the floor. “Spike…” Buffy gently lifted his face up with her hands. His face was wet with tears. “What is it? What happened?” Spike suddenly pulled her down against him. “Love you,” he whispered against her breast. Buffy slowly stood up and took him by the hand and led him up to bed. She undressed him, took him to the bathroom and made him wash up and brought him back into her room. “Our room, now.” She thought. He lay down and she climbed in next to him. He turned to her and gathered her in his arms. “So sorry.” “What are you sorry for?” “Sorry for all the trouble I’ve brought. For being me. Sorry I’m not a man. Couldn’t help… couldn’t help loving you…” “Sssh, love. Don’t say anymore.” She caressed his face. She found his lips and gave him a tender kiss. “You’re my love, my mate. I know who you are. I chose you.” “But tonight, tonight…all alone out there, in the storm, fighting them, seeing them through your eyes, thinking how you love something so evil and worthless. I’m fallen, bad, and can’t find my way out.” He tightened his embrace. “Don’t send me away. Don’t leave me. I’d turn to ash.” She rolled him gently over onto his back and lay on top of him, her body fully pressed against the long, sinuous length of him. He felt her steady heart beat, her sweet warmth and scent wrapping him as softly as a gossamer web. Nuzzling and breathing her in, he pressed his face into her hair. He felt alive, as if she was willing her energy, her full life force to fill his body. He felt a warm wave of joy slowly well up inside him. From where, he didn’t care. This joy was such a deep precious feeling. It felt like being born. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this, and he looked up into her eyes and saw her desire and love and he proceeded to love her tenderly and thoroughly. He grasped her waist, and slowly lifted and placed her soft aroused lips against the tip of his thick shaft. He entered her inch, by exquisite inch, penetrating deep into her sweet warmth. She whimpered in her need for him...her love for him. He raised his hips and lifted her in a gentle rocking motion. It seemed they moved in this timeless dance for hours, until they felt no separation between them...only the thin silver thread of love weaving this tender nest around them, this sacred place, their home. Spike lay wide awake in the night, feeling Buffy’s chest rise and fall gently against him. “So alive,” he thought sadly, so not deserving of what was to come. What he knew would come. What he recognized last night he would have to do. He closed his eyes in pain. His heart filled with an almost unbearable love for her. “Bloody, bloody heart, wish I could rip it out.” * * * * * The weeks passed uneventfully and the Summers’ household slowly settled down into a comfortable routine. Spike and Buffy would patrol together each night and return home to fall into each others arms or fall deeply asleep. Spike woke up early before Dawn left for school and while making her breakfast or lunch, he would listen sympathetically to her tales of teenage travail. Buffy bought a special refrigerator to hold Spike’s meals, just in case the social worker decided to check if she’d kept enough food around the house and start asking nosy questions about who liked the A negative. Even Willow was slowly recovering from her “magic” addiction and making amends with Dawn. On the surface, life seemed pretty good. The only odd note in the gentle flow of their lives together was Spike’s insistence on going out to get the mail each afternoon. He’d wait in the living room around 2pm, blanket poised above his head, ready to dive outside the door as the mailman drove up each day. He’d snatch the mail out of the box and run back into the house, blanket smoking. “Spike, would you stop it please. This daily smell of burnt wool is making me ill.” Buffy finally confronted him on his strange behavior. Spike mumbled something about just trying to help out and not being appreciated. He kept it up for several more weeks and then suddenly stopped. “About time,” Buffy told Willow, “I was going to lock him out the next time he decided that spontaneous combustion was a sane way to help out around the house.” Spike sat in the tiny niche he’d set up for himself in the basement. He pulled the letter out of his pocket and re-read it for about the hundredth time. Each time he read it, he would will it to end differently. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe its contents. He’d written to Rupert the day after his encounter with the old vampire during the night he’d taken over Buffy’s patrol to let her sleep. He’d explained everything to the Ripper in his letter, hoping beyond hope that what the demon had screamed at him were just the empty words of ancient life force which was angry and bitter in its final moments of existence. It had taken six weeks to receive the answer that crushed his hopes. He knew what he had to do now. But he couldn’t bear to do it. Another month passed. He became slightly withdrawn, not his usual sarcastic, lively self. He tried to hide his feelings from Buffy. But Willow was another matter. When Buffy wasn’t around, he’d let his guard down, pace anxiously, or sit in deep thought with a look of profound sadness on his face. Willow caught him in this behavior several times and finally confronted him gently. “Hey Spike, you know… well if you’d like to talk or anything, I’m here… been through bad stuff myself…well you’ve been a friend to me… ah,” she said watching the mask fall over his face. “Guess you’re not ready.” She walked away looking troubled. Two nights later, Spike and Buffy came home early from a very uneventful patrol. Spike gently teased her about her technique against a newly turned vampire. She’d dropped her stake so she’d ended up chasing him down a street trying to sprinkle holy water on him. “You looked like his mum trying to get him into the bath.” “Umm…bath, that sounds good. Will you wash my back, sweetheart?” He loved it when she called him sweetheart. He felt she really meant it--meant his heart was sweet, sweet to her. Although he had no soul, at least he could give her his heart. Later they were laughing and splashing in a tub full of bubbles. He scrubbed and brushed and rubbed every inch of her, from her toes to her hair. She laughed at the serious look on his face as he washed her feet. “Worship me much?” He glanced up at her and gave her a sweet, deep smile. “Always and forever, luv.” She gave a small cry and pulled him down to her. The water splashed over the sides of the tub. She covered his face with kisses. She loved him more than she thought possible. She was so happy...couldn’t imagine that life could change so quickly for the better. Later that evening, they sat next to each other at the kitchen table, all snug in their tattered bathrobes, sipping hot chocolate and arguing over each other’s taste in movies. Willow peeked around the corner to wish them goodnight and was suddenly overcome with a strong sense of trepidation. They looked absolutely fey in their gentle happiness, and in a waking vision, she saw a soft silver light flood the room, hover over their heads and then dissipate into darkness. “Willow, Willow, you ok?” Buffy and Spike were looking at her with concern. Willow smiled hollowly and said, “Just a little tired guys, sleep tight ok? Love you both.” She quickly went upstairs to her room and phoned Tara. Spike was passionately trying to explain to Buffy that she absolutely must watch one of his favorite movies the ‘Shawshank Redemption’ with him that night. Buffy yawned sleepily in his face. “Yawning here. Need Sleep. Tomorrow ok, love?” He made her promise before he let her go up to bed. “Tomorrow, ok? Promise me!” “Promise. Do I need to hit you to get past you and into my bed?” she asked crankily. He scooped her up into her arms, carried her up the stairs and dumped her unceremoniously on the bed. She watched sleepily as he stripped off his robe and stood naked before her. “Sleep if you can Slayer. I’ve got other things planned for you.” And so he did. * * * * * Morning broke hard that day. Blistering, sweltering heat. Everyone was cranky and restless. Dawn, happy to escape the tense atmosphere in the house, had gone off early that morning with Mariane’s family on a week-long trip to San Diego. Willow planned to spend the day with Tara and left shortly afterwards. “We’re trying to become friends again,” Willow told Buffy wistfully, “Friends are good…right?” Buffy gave her a hug and saw her out the door. The worst offender was Spike who couldn’t seem to settle down. He roved from basement to bedroom and back again. He stepped on the cat and sent him howling up Buffy’s legs, claws out, while she was trying to cook breakfast. She angrily banished the two of them out to the living room where Spike proceeded to knock over the small crystal vase that Buffy had given her mother; it smashed into a thousand fragments across the living room floor. “Geez, Spike. Get a life.” Buffy yelled at him from the kitchen. “Oh my god,” she said walking into the living room, “I can’t believe you broke that.” She cried, “Can’t you do anything constructive around here?” She stepped in the room and let out a yell, “Ouch, my foot,” she lifted up her foot and saw a thick shard of glass sticking out of her sole. “OK, that’s it. You’re banned to the basement for the next few hours or better yet why don’t you run off to the sewers and hook up with some of your low life friends.” “You bloody ungrateful bitch.” Spike yelled back at her, “You can’t begin to know what I do around here for you.” He picked up Demon, who was watching the action from a safe place under the couch. “We’re leaving. Don’t wait up.” He grabbed his blanket off the armchair and stomped over to the basement door. “Aren’t you going in the wrong direction?” Buffy yelled at his retreating back. “Sod off.” Spike slammed the door and pounded down the stairs. It took Buffy over an hour to pick up the pieces of glass from the floor. Her mother had loved that vase, always filling it with wildflowers or lilies if she had the extra cash. And now it was gone. The effort of searching the entire floor for fragments of glass and vacuuming the rug in the unbearable heat had left Buffy sweating. “I just can’t stand him underfoot all the time. I thought vampires were supposed to sleep during the day. He never sleeps...” She sat up and leaned back on her heels in thought. “Hmm…he used to sleep. Has something changed?” A little while later she was sitting in a cold tub of water, rinsing off the sweat and dirt, and trying to cool down. She lay back and stared unseeing at the ceiling, wondering about Spike and trying to remember if he’d been acting strangely lately. As she was drying herself off, still puzzling about Spike, she heard the front door slam with a bang. “Good riddance,” She sighed, and walked into her bedroom. She threw the towel down on the floor and flung her self across the bed. “Damn heat,” she moaned and promptly fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * She stood on a deserted country road. The road was rutted and barely paved. It wound up and down through several gentle hills and small valleys and then disappeared into the distant haze. She followed the road down as it wound down into a small gully. The air was completely still and heavy with water. She felt slightly out of breath and paused. She gazed over to her right and saw an old stone wall tracing up the curve of a hill; it meandered in a slight zigzag line and suddenly stopped beneath a giant oak. Promise. Remember. The words jumped into her head. What am I supposed to remember? What did I promise? She panicked a little, her heart adding extra beats as she tried to think back. Promise. Her mind was blank. The oppressive heat in the little gully was overwhelming. Can’t think. Can’t remember. She broke into a sweat. Gotta get out of here. Don’t belong. Don’t belong. A sudden chill wind blew down into the gully. It smelt slightly of sulfur and iron. The dried grass on the edge of the road started to dance and swirl in the gusts of wind. “Rain.” she thought. “Thank god.” She turned around and started running back up the road out of the gully. As she reached the crest of the hill, the storm broke, showering her with cool sweet rain. * * * * * A loud clap of thunder woke Buffy abruptly out of her dream. Her room was dark although it was still early in the afternoon. She got up and closed her bedroom windows and shades against the cold wind. “A real thunderstorm,” Buffy thought happily. It was rare to have a lightening storm in Southern California; but when they did come, they were spectacular. There was something about months of pent up electrical charge in the earth finally finding release. Buffy dressed warmly and hurried downstairs to prepare the rest house for the oncoming storm. Another loud clap of thunder made her jump; the storm was getting closer. The thunder stopped and a brilliant flash of lightening lit up the room. In the quiet aftermath she heard a small plaintive mewing. “Demon’s out in the storm,” Buffy worriedly opened the front door. He wasn’t there. She heard the mewing again and followed the sound to the basement door which was standing open. Odd, she thought. She turned on the light and looked down into the basement. There was Demon sitting about halfway up the stairs. Someone had taken an old blanket and made him a little snug nest on one of the steps. He just sat there and gave her a long stare then mewed again. Buffy walked down the stairs and knelt next to the cat. Then she noticed that the blanket he was sitting on looked familiar. It was Spike’s. “But Spike went out.” She thought, “I heard the door slam.” An uneasy feeling came over her. She called down into the empty basement, “Spike, wake-up. Come on I know you’re down there.” She ran down the rest of the stairs, secretly dreading what she’d find. Nothing. And then the lights went out. She quickly went up to her bedroom and pulled on her warmest gear. She took her favorite stakes and weapons from their new hiding place in the hall closet. She took the cat and tucked him up on her bed. “Stay,” she said fiercely, thinking of Spike. As she stopped to close the front door, she took a last look into the empty, dark house. It was so different from yesterday, from last night, when the house was full of his laughter and love, and their happiness. “You’re right, Spike. I am a bloody bitch,” she thought grimly to herself. “Now where the hell are YOU?” Her shout was lost in the raging wind. She looked everywhere including his crypt, his favorite low-life hangouts, and the all night grocery store where he bought his cigarettes. She roamed the town in desperate fury. The Slayer in her rose up in such murderous frenzy that the demons and vampires, who survived her wrath that night, whispered fearfully about it for months. She’d question each of her victims mercilessly before staking them or dispatching them with a strong swipe of her ax. “Where’s Spike?” she’d hiss at them, “What did you do to Spike?” Finally around one a.m., there was a short lull in the storm. Buffy found herself standing outside of Spike’s old crypt. She was exhausted, and covered in ash and gore from head to foot. She heard a noise from inside and barged in the door. “Spike?” she called hopefully. “Gone, gone away. Never come back. Can’t come back.” Buffy felt the hairs at the back of her neck rise up at sound of the peculiar voice. “Who are you?” she cried. She briefly saw the shadowy face of what appeared to be a very old vampire, swirling in the darkness of the crypt. She ran toward the face. It disappeared. Several hours later, the thunderstorm was still in full strength. The wind was blowing fiercely. In an almost animate manner, it battered against the house, seeking to enter any small crack or crevice and making the house moan and echo with a melancholy voice. Buffy sat on the living room couch with Spike’s blanket wrapped around her shoulders and Demon curled up in her lap. She stared out into the storm. “Spike, love, come home to me,” she whispered. * * * * * Willow stood outside the door to the darkened house. The storm had finally moved on and it was raining lightly. She walked inside and tried to flip on the light switch in the living room with no result. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Buffy curled up on the couch, hugging Spike’s blanket to her face. “Buffy, Buffy wake up.” Buffy opened her eyes. They were hollow and dark. “What’s wrong Buffy?” Willow cried. “He’s gone. Again.” Willow sat down on the couch and pulled Buffy into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry…I knew…” “What?” Buffy pulled away suddenly alert. “What did you know?” Willow swallowed nervously, “Uh…well I tried to talk to him…said I could help him…you know. Oh…not in a ‘magic’ type way.” She ended quickly at the hard look in Buffy’s eyes. “Night before last, I saw something, you know, when you two were sitting together in the kitchen…that’s why I had to talk to Tara.” Buffy sat up and turned to Willow grabbing her shoulders. “Now. Full story. No excuses.” “Ow, Buffy!” Willow winced at Buffy’s strong grasp. She replied angrily, “Well if you paid attention to someone other than yourself you might have noticed.” “Noticed what!? What do you know?!” Buffy was yelling now. “Nothing! Let me go!” Willow wrenched herself out of Buffy’s hands, stood up and walked into the kitchen looking for a candle. “What did you say to Tara, what does Tara know?” Buffy was on the edge of hysteria as she followed Willow into the kitchen. “No Candles.” Willow said mournfully. “Oh my god. Spike. Oh my god.” Buffy crumpled to the floor and burst into tears. Willow sighed and looked down at Buffy, “Tara says it’s bad, the thread is broken, Spike might get lost and never come back. Fey moment and all.” “Thread? Fey? What are you talking about,” Buffy mumbled through her tears. “That night in the kitchen, I saw a light...all in a silvery thread around you shimmering and then it just disappeared into the darkness. Just disappeared. You seemed fey…you know – the moment of happiness right before disaster. Tara said it was a sign.” Willow explained. Buffy listened as Willow continued to explain Tara’s theory. “Tara thinks you weren’t ready, weren’t strong enough, not ready for the journey. So Spike had to go away, had to find the thread. She says it’s older magic, older, deeper than all these spells and stuff I’ve been messing with. Wilder magic.” Willow shivered. “She saw a very dark journey ahead and says she’s afraid—afraid for you both.” “Strong?” Buffy caught onto one of the words that came tumbling prophetically out of Willow’s mouth. “But I’m the Slayer!” she cried. “I was ready! I’m strong.” “No, no Buffy. I don’t think she meant that kind of strong.” Willow helped Buffy up and took her upstairs and tucked her into bed. “Sleep Buffy. We’ll figure out what to do in the morning.” She gave her a soft kiss and the cheek, “Sweet dreams,” she whispered. * * * * * Buffy sat amidst the cattails and weeds that edged the lake. The sun was warm and soft on her bare arms and legs. She sleepily watched as the bumblebees and dragonflies darted among the grasses and swiftly skimmed across the warm, still water. A thick patch of water lilies bobbed slowly in the water’s deep, unseen motion. A golden dragonfly suddenly swooped down and landed on one of the sweet fragrant petals of a lily lying in the water a foot or so from where she sat. So beautiful, she thought, so fierce and fast and alive. The dragonfly perched, completely motionless on the petal for a few minutes and then started twisting and struggling in apparent agony. Intently, Buffy watched its struggle, and she was overcome with a deep feeling of fear mingled with sadness. “Am I watching it die?” she thought sadly, “More death, everything dying.” She wanted to reach out and end its agony but something inside her stilled her hand. “Patience, love.” She jerked awake at the sound of his voice. “Spike?” she called out. But it was just a dream. * * * * * “What am I going to do?” Buffy sat in the kitchen drinking tea with Willow the next morning. “I guess you just need to be brave, Buffy. Be ready for the storm.” “Storm,” Buffy laughed bitterly, “You don’t know what I did last night...faced last night. All last night, I raged through that storm. I was lightening and fire. I’m bloody brave,” she sighed at her use of his favorite word. “He’s the coward…he’s…” “Didn’t mean that kind of storm, Buff.” Willow interrupted quietly. Later that day, while Buffy was searching through Spike’s meager belongings for some clue to his disappearance, she wondered why she was thinking about dragonflies. continued in 'Wilder Deeper Magic' back to Dragonfly Series home back to Dark Dreams |