| Part Nine : Star Fire This fire born prism can split the universe or love the choice is mine, or is it fate? to see beneath or through to flow in waves of infinity into your arms again |
| * * * * * “C’est toujours le sang. Le sang est la vie.” –Coat of Arms of Walderne Seigneur de Saint Clair, St Clair-sur-Elle, Normandy circa 1004 A.D. * * * * * "The true Grail bloodline originated with the Anunnaki gods in southern Sumeria at least 6,000 years ago and was sustained by ingestion of an alchemical substance called 'Star Fire' ... defined as the most potent of all life-forces… It was from the womb of Nin-khursag that the kingly line was born, and it was with her blood, the divine Star Fire, that the Dragon succession was supplementally fed.” -Sir Laurence Gardner - Bloodline of the Holy Grail * * * * * By the time they arrived at Rose Lyn, Spike was barely conscious and Giles and Buffy carried him into the house and up into the master bedroom. “He’s so cold, Giles. I think we should put him in a warm bath,” Buffy said. She drew a bath while Giles undressed him. As he folded Spike’s pants and lay them across the bed, a small silver key slipped out of the pocket and fell unnoticed to the floor. They carried him into the bathroom and lay him gently down into the warm water. The coloring of the bruise on his chest had deepened and was spreading up towards his neck. “He’s dying,” Buffy said in a hushed voice as she gently rinsed the sand and dirt off him with a soft cloth. “I have to do something.” She looked pleadingly at Giles. They carried him back into the bedroom and covered him with blankets. “Stay with him. I need to speak with Bertram.” Giles slipped quietly out of the room. “I’m not going anywhere.” Buffy stood next to the bed gazing down at Spike. A glint of silver caught her eye and she bent down and picked up the silver key. “Where did this come from?” She looked around the room and her eyes fell upon the silver chest. She went over to the chest and placed the key into the lock and turned it. The padlock sprung open. She removed the lock and opened the chest. She pulled out the red blanket and, resting beneath it, she saw the small black lacquer box with a golden dragon inlaid on the top. She opened the box and took out the small red glass bottle. “I’ve seen something like this before,” she thought. “In Bertram’s kitchen…what had Spike said as he’d held the bottle?” She searched her memory and then remembered the look on Spike’s face as he held the small red bottle in his hand. “For emergencies!” she exclaimed. She looked down at Spike’s almost lifeless body. “This definitely qualifies as an emergency.” She twisted the small glass stopper off the bottle and tried to pour a bit of the liquid into Spike’s mouth. He was in such a deep coma that the liquid merely dripped down the corner of his mouth. He was barely breathing now and his skin was chill to the touch. In desperation, she poured the contents of the bottle into her own mouth and, placing her lips against his, slowly began to feed him the liquid drop by drop. She felt the burning inside her mouth immediately. Felt as if she were pouring fire into his body and into her own, as she had inadvertently swallowed some of the liquid in her feverish attempt to resuscitate him. Once she finished feeding him, she lay back on the bed and pulled him into her arms. The first thing she noticed was the rising temperature of his skin. A rosy pink flush started from his neck and rose into his cheeks. He began to moan, slowly rising to consciousness. She pulled back the blankets to examine his chest. The ugly bruise had begun to disappear. He started to struggle in her arms, muttering incoherently. She released him from her embrace and lay back on the bed suddenly dizzy. She felt the room begin to spin and a strange humming sound filled the air. “Got to get him out of here,” she cried in a sudden burst of paranoia. She jumped off the bed and, covering Spike with the red blanket, lifted him into her arms and carried him out of the bedroom. He struggled against her grasp but she stilled him with her voice, as she whispered “Hush, love.” She walked down the hallway, looking anxiously from room to room. “Where, where must I take him?” She spied the narrow staircase at the end of the hall and, with sudden determination, carried him up to the strange attic room which Dawn had named the ‘Sanctuary’. She lay him down in the center of the room, placing him on top of the red blanket. She returned to the door and slid the large iron bolt into place. * * * * * “My beloved met me, Took his pleasure of me, rejoiced as one with me, My beloved brought me into his house, Laid me down on a fragrant honey-bed, My precious sweet, lying by my heart, One by one “tongue-making,” one by one, My lover of fairest face did so fifty times, My precious sweet is sated and speaks: “Set me free, beloved, set me free…” - Sumerian love poem of Inanna and Dumuzi – circa 3000 B.C. translation – Samuel Kramer * * * * * “Safe now.” Buffy took off her own sandy and dirty clothes and kicked them into a corner. She felt the burning inside her veins now. A thousand constellations were pouring through her, stars and meteors rushing down her veins into her heart, exploding in her cells. She walked back to Spike and stood at his feet, gazing down at him as he lay sprawled naked upon the red blanket. The sunlight filtering down from the stained glass windows scattered jewels of light across the creamy paleness of his body. The skin of his cock slowly flushed a rosy red as it became erect with his newly born blood and the Star Fire potion coursing through him. She ran her hands slowly down her body, feeling the aching tautness of her breasts, the round fertile curve of her stomach, and finally the burning heat of the swollen wet lips of her sex. She slowly rubbed her finger across her erect clit and then plunged it inside her, covering it with her musky juices. She knelt down on her knees beside his head, her knees splayed apart. She placed her wet finger against his lips and he licked it greedily. She repeated the process, feeding him delicately. He opened his eyes and stared at her with strangely dark eyes, “Slayer,” he murmured and then he rolled over on his stomach and placed his head between her thighs and began to drink greedily from the source. She wove her fingers into his soft hair. Her womb contracted from the pleasure of his tongue and she felt a sudden release as her slick essence poured down onto his hungry lips. She fell backwards and arching her back and braced her body on her arms while he continued to feast on her. He slid his hands up her thighs, over her hips and cupping her buttocks in his firm grasp pushed his tongue deep inside her. He slowly lapped the inside of her sex, caressing the slick inner walls and sensitive crevasses with his probing tongue, pausing to sip and drink as each caress triggered the wet flow inside her. He began to lick and lightly kiss her stiff clitoris. He pulled it between his lips and softly flicked his tongue back and forth over its sensitive silken surface. She gazed entranced at the sight of his golden red head moving between her thighs and the curves of his graceful body arching and shaking in his need for her. She let out a soft, involuntary cry as she watched him flex the long taut muscles of his hips and thighs in a sensual rhythm as he lay before her, devouring her. Her body began to tremble with the oncoming waves of a glorious orgasm, heightened by the effects of the red liquid she’d consumed. She released a long low moan as the first wave rose from pressure and touch of his tongue and undulated through every cell in her body, and then the next wave surged through her, and another, until she was almost incoherent from the pleasure which consumed her body. With a sudden growl, he raised his head and slowly rose from his prone position. She was splayed out before him, flushed and panting with desire. He bent over and pulled her up onto her knees, his swollen cock jutting fiercely before her lips. She started to stand but he pushed her back down. “What do you need?” she whispered hoarsely. “It’s what you need now, love…need my fire. Drink me,” he commanded and placed the tip of his cock against her waiting lips. She gently moistened the tip of his cock with her soft pink tongue and delicately licked underneath the rosy head, along its firm ridges. He let out a long, deep groan as she placed her tongue into the small opening at the tip of his erection and lightly sucked the clear fluid slowly flowing out of him. She opened her lips and sucked the whole length of his thick cock deep into her mouth and down into her throat. She held him there, not moving, as she gazed up at him, and placed her hands on his thighs. She slowly began to move her head back and forth… letting his cock almost slip out of her mouth before catching it with her lips and strongly sucking his full length back inside her. He stood above her as a god, his body shimmering in the light. His body giving off a light of its own, a golden fire, as the glistening sweat poured down his skin and reflected the pale rays of the dying sun. His head was thrown back in the ecstasy at the worshipful ministrations of his woman’s mouth and tongue. His hair was wild and tangled, the dark red roots pushing out the tips of gold. She increased her pace, sucking him in greedily, rubbing her erect nipples against the silken skin of his inner thighs as she embraced him fiercely against her body. His whole body tensed and, with an inhuman cry, he grasped the back of her head, pushed his cock deep into her throat and throbbed the full force of his orgasm into her. She sucked and swallowed every drop of his warm salty flood. It burned, as the Star Fire had burned, as it slipped across her tongue and down her throat. And only after the pulses of his orgasm ended did she release him. He lifted her to her feet and swept her into his arms. Again he gave her the strange, dark look, a long and penetrating look, as if he were calling to something, to someone deep inside her. “Slayer, Slayer…love,” he whispered and pressing his lips to hers, he pulled her into a deep kiss. Musk and salt, fire and blood swirled on their tongues as each sought for dominance. He fell back down onto the blanket and pulled her with him. He rolled over her, and grasping her wrists placed them above her head on the floor. He pushed her knees apart forcefully, roughly with his thighs, and stretching her legs as far apart as possible, he began to move rhythmically against her body. She felt the hardness of his erection rubbing slowly up and down her clit, pushing open the swollen, slick lips of her sex. She struggled against his grasp, wanting to feel his body, his skin, with her hands. She needed to touch him, to feel his pulse and his warmth with her own hands. “Need to touch you,” she moaned. He released her wrists and she pressed her hands against the smooth skin of his chest. She felt the slow beat of his heart. “Way too slow for a human,” she thought with just a touch of fear. He gazed down at her again, with the strange dark look in his eyes. “My love.” His voice was low and urgent; his voice resonated through her. “Spike, who are you now?” She looked deeply into his eyes, searching for Spike, for William, for the vampire and man she loved. “Someone who needs you…” he said quietly. He shuddered and pressed his lips against her, silencing her questioning look. He suddenly pushed the full length of his erection deep inside her and began to thrust wildly. The hardness of his thick and swollen cock stretched her and filled her completely and, with each thrust, he plunged his tongue into her mouth. She returned his kisses and raised her knees; the weight of his body bent them close to her chest. She placed her ankles lightly on his shoulders, allowing his cock to penetrate her as deeply as possible. “He wants to feel alive. He wants to fuck. Let him fuck me completely, ride me as hard as he can…he needs me…needs me…” Her mind went slowly blank as the waves of pleasure, radiating from the forceful motions of his cock thrusting in and out of her, quickly submerged all rational thought. As evening fell, they knew only each other and became each other’s whole world, whole universe. * * * * * “Many books talk about the hermetic school of Tuthmosis III of Egypt, who reigned about 1450 BC. But it is not generally known that the school he originally inherited was the Sumerian Royal Court of the Dragon. This sovereign and priestly Order then passed from Egypt to the Kings of Jerusalem; to the Black Sea Princes of Scythia and into the Balkans - notably to the Royal House of Hungary….” -Sir Laurence Gardner - Bloodline of the Holy Grail * * * * * “We’re too late.” Bertram looked guiltily at Giles. He picked up the empty red bottle off of the floor and showed it Giles and Ernest who were standing in the doorway to the bedroom. “There’s nothing we can do. They’re in the hands of fate now.” “I just can’t stand here and leave Buffy alone up there with him,” Giles shouted. They fell silent and listened to the sounds emanating from the attic above them. “If you try to come between them now, they’ll rip you limb from limb. Won’t even know they’ve done it.” Bertram warned. “We just have to wait until…” “Until what?!” Giles replied fiercely. “Until he understands…ah…chooses what he’ll become. I do think we should all leave the house…er…might be safer back in Sunnydale,” Bertram said. “If you think I’m going to leave her with that monster…you’ve more insane that I thought…why…” he stopped as Ernest pulled urgently on his arm. “What about Dawn…Willow and Tara?” Ernest asked. “There’s nothing you can do. Believe me I’ve seen it before.” “You!” Giles shook off Ernest’s hand and stared down at him accusingly. Tara and Willow had told him the whole story of how Ernest had revealed to Dawn that Spike was her father and something of his strange background. “I suppose this Star Fire thing was your whole idea…missing the past…longing for your true master…eh?” “No Giles,” Ernest protested. He gave Bertram a nod and they grabbed Giles by the arms and propelled him out of the room and down the stairs to the living room. Dawn, Tara and Willow were sitting silently on the couch. Each lost in her own thoughts. They stood up as the others came into the room. “Is he ok?” Dawn asked worriedly. Giles avoided her eyes and looked over at Ernest who gave him an encouraging nod. “Much better…ah…but I think we must…leave them alone for now.” He blushed. “They need some time to…um…be by themselves. Talk things out,” he finished in a rush. Dawn gave him a puzzled look, sensing he was lying about something. “I’ll drive Bertram and Ernest back to their car and meet you back at Buffy’s house in a bit.” He took the second key to Rose Lyn off his key chain and placed it next to the door. “Come on, let’s go…” He rushed them out the door. He locked the door behind him and gave a deep sigh before turning and walking down the steps to his car. * * * * * As Giles pulled his car into the darkened overgrown lane, the headlights briefly illuminated a silver Mercedes parked in the undergrowth about a hundred yards away. “Here we are. I’m going to come back later and watch over the house and if I see either one of you prowling around, by god, I’ll stake you myself.” Bertram and Earnest jumped out of Giles car and giving him a small bow, scampered down the lane. Giles waited until the silver Mercedes pulled out of the lane. He followed the car all the way back to Sunnydale until he finally had to turn off onto Revello Drive. * * * * * “Is he gone?” Bertram asked. “Yes, he just turned off toward Buffy’s house,” Ernest said. “Well let’s get on with it then.” He made a U-turn and began driving back to Rose Lyn. “You think he’ll show up?” “Absolutely. He has the other bottle. Must have taken it by now. There’s no way he’s going to let another Dragon rise to power.” “Bertram, I don’t think you really know what you’re getting us into here,” Ernest said worriedly. “Believe me when I tell you, you don’t want to tangle with a Dragon. Good or Evil.” “I need to make sure the right one is destroyed.” “And which one is the ‘right one’, sir, if I may ask?” * * * * * The teachings of the early mystery-schools were very specific about the Trees of Life and Knowledge, and they emulated the very teachings of the Sumerian Enki himself. It was said: “Nothing is obtained simply by wanting. And nothing is achieved by relinquishing responsibility to a higher authority. Belief is the act of 'believing', for to 'be live' is to 'believe' - and Will is the ultimate medium of the Self.” * * * * * It seemed that he rode her for hours. Poised above her as he rode her in the bright moonlight, he became an ivory god, glittering with jewels, from the moon which poured its pale light through the stained glass. He was insatiable. He had to have her in every place and every possible position. He took her tenderly, then violently, then slowly… drawing out her passion in long tortuous strokes: in her cunt, in her mouth, between her breasts. She offered herself and her body to him completely, surrendering to the pure liquid fire that burnt inside him. He tasted every inch of her skin and gently nipped and licked the smooth curve of her neck which she offered in supplication to him. He kissed the tender silken skin beneath the delicate shell of her ear and whispered his love to her, his need for them to be one, to become one again now and always. She rode his cock, pressing him violently into the floor beneath her. She rode his face forcing his tongue deep inside her, reveling in power she had over him. She slowly slipped the wet, swollen lips of her sex down his chest, slowly gliding down the sweat drenched muscles of his stomach until she impaled herself on his eagerly awaiting shaft. She made him take her from behind, holding his hands tightly upon her full breasts, rubbing his fingers over her hardened nipples, flooding him with her wetness. And as she held him, he pressed his face against her neck, covering her neck with deep bites of love as he thrust inside her. Each time after they came, she would hungrily lick and explore his body, breathing in the musky smell of him, memorizing every muscle and curve of his flesh with her tongue, and he did the same to her. They came countless times; their bodies were slick with sweat and sex. They were covered with the scent of their sex. Its fragrance filled the whole room, arousing them to further passion, driving them to lick and sniff and prowl around each other like predators, before pouncing on each other and starting their wild mating dance once again. They burned for each other; they were desperate to get inside each other’s skin, to get underneath, to rip apart the barriers of flesh which separated them, to find at last the deep center and meaning of their love. Unaware that the Star Fire had ignited a transformation in both of them, they continued all night long until the early dawn hours of the next day in their exquisitely fierce and erotic dance to become one. Finally exhausted, and wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, they both fell into a deep slumber and Spike began to dream. And in his dream, at last, he finally remembered who he really was and what she meant to him. * * * * * He was standing on the edge of a battlement of a castle, high on a ridge overlooking the war torn city below. At the foot of the castle ran a deep, clear blue river, offering some respite from the hordes below. His armies were losing the fight. He thought, not of the blood and death that his faithful followers were being subjected to, but of all that would be lost: the beauty of the world he had tried to create, the music and art, the poetry and songs. All would be lost by nightfall. Most of all, he thought of her, who had died so valiantly by his side. The look in her eyes as she gasped her final farewell, her words of love and fear for him. He must live, she’d begged, must live on for her and their children, that someday, she’d return to him and that he mustn’t ever lose faith. He must believe in her, in her words. He’d resisted her pleas at that moment of her death, knew in his heart that he could never live without her, without her love. But standing now so high above the destruction below, he felt encased in a strange energy, as if the soft winds blowing about him were her arms and love and he knew with a sudden, sad realization that he would live, would live so that he’d be there when she returned to him, however many were the dark long years. A sudden, strong gust of wind lifted him off the battlement and for a moment he hung, suspended between earth and sky and then he was falling into the water below. He gazed up at his companions, looking down at him as he fell, and then he saw the beautiful blue sky and soft white clouds. The castle exploded in a fireball and his companions were lost, but he was far away, deep within the icy river, protected by the clear, pure water. * * * * * “Because the soul of each body is its blood, that is its soul.” -- The Third Book of Moses * * * * * Ernest carefully drove the Mercedes up a narrow fire-trail on one of the hills overlooking Rose Lyn. He parked under a small grove of oak trees and turned off the engine. “What do you expect to see?” he asked Bertram. “It’s pitch black out there.” “Just want to watch the road for Richard’s car. I know he’ll show up.” “Aren’t you tired, master? It’s been such a long, long day. A very long day.” Ernest’s voice was soothing and slightly hypnotic. “Now that you mention it, I could use a little nap. Just fifteen minutes.” Bertram yawned. “Just fifteen minutes. You take the first watch and then…” His head nodded back against the head rest of the car and soon he was snoring loudly. “Sorry sir. But you just don’t understand.” Ernest whispered. He slipped out of the car and made his way through the underbrush down towards Rose Lyn. * * * * * Giles stumbled out onto the fire-trail. His sweater was covered with burrs. “Why do I feel compelled to do these things? I could be back at home with a nice cozy pot of tea, reading a book. Dear lord, when will it ever end?” he grumbled. He paused. He’d spotted a glint of silver near some trees about a hundred yards up the trail. “Bertram!” A few minutes later Giles was pounding on the window of Bertram’s car. “Wake up you old fool!” Bertram, wakened out of his deep sleep by Giles’ shouting, rolled down the car window. He looked at Giles in confusion. “Has it only been fifteen minutes?” “I told you not to come back here!” Giles exclaimed. “It was all Ernest’s idea!” Bertram’s head cleared quickly as he assessed the precariousness of his situation. Giles looked extremely angry. “He forced me… I swear and then he… he…” Bertram paused, suddenly aware that much more than fifteen minutes had passed and that dawn was ready to break. “That double-crossing demon!” * * * * * He stood by the window and gazed out over the grey world. The early morning fog covered the earth for as far as he could see. He opened the latch on the window and let the cool air rush into the room. The damp air carried the scents of dried summer grass, of the bay trees and wild lilies which grew inside the old stone wall encircling the house. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He ran his hands lightly down his chest. The terrible pain he’d felt last night was gone and his body seemed to emanate a subtle energy, as if he’d been newly born on this morning. He took another deep breath, as a man does when emerging from cold water, surfacing into the glory of air rich in oxygen and light. Buffy, awakened by the touch of cool air across her skin, propped her head in her hands and smiled at the beautiful sight of his naked back as he stood silently before the window. “Spike?” she called. He didn’t respond. “William?” He didn’t turn. “Love? What do you see?” she asked. She felt a wave of relief as he finally turned toward her with a smile. “Just fog, love, thick as lamb’s wool.” He walked over and sat down on the floor next to her. He put his hand on her waist, slowly stroking her cool skin. She watched his fingers trace the curves of her body and then noticed with a shock that he was wearing two rings. He followed her eyes to the ring upon his finger. “Where did you find it? Thought it was lost forever,” she asked. “I found it at the bottom of the cliff. It led me to you…led me out of a very dark place…back to you.” He removed the ring and placed it back on her finger. “There now, love, it’s back where it belongs.” A soft, silver light flowed gently between them. She closed her eyes, forcing back a sudden impulse to weep at the warmth of his hand and the tenderness of his touch which conveyed so much love. “Why didn’t you answer me? When I called your name?” “I did.” He laughed. “When you called me ‘Love’.” His face flushed a bit and he stretched out next to her on the blanket. “Don’t think I’ll ever be Spike or William again, though.” He gazed seriously into her eyes. “Last night…” she began. “Last night I remembered,” he interrupted. “Remembered?” “It’s not what they thought, what they told me. Bertram…Giles…they were wrong.” He lay back and pulled her into his arms. “Wrong?” She placed her hand over his heart, feeling again it’s slower than human beat. “Oh there is deeper magic, deeper than they ever could have imagined. They only understood the shadow of the truth.” “Are you the Dragon?” she whispered. He laughed and gave her a tight hug. His laughter was rich and deep and filled her with a wild joy. She gave him a wry smile. “Well? Think I deserve to know who I made so happy last night.” “Me. You made me happy.” He kissed her nose. “OK, getting seriously cranky here. A cranky cold Slayer in the morning is not a good thing.” She tried to shift out of his arms, but he held her tightly. “I think we should get cleaned up and dressed and feed you first, ‘cause it’s gonna be a long story and I believe our babies need a bit of nourishment from their mum.” He rolled her over onto her back and placed his lips against her stomach. He tickled her skin with soft kisses and she started to giggle. “Why do you always get your way?” She gasped and pushed her hands against his shoulders. “Stop!” He stood up and held out his hand to her. She grasped it tightly and he pulled her quickly to her feet and into a tight embrace. “I found you,” he sighed and gave her a tender kiss. * * * * * Spike sat on the bed waiting for Buffy to finish her shower. He held the red blanket to his face. Buffy’s scent had drowned out the faint perfume of lilies. He smiled a bit sadly, the last traces of his mother’s existence obliterated by the musky, deep scent of the woman he loved. One generation falls before the next…how it should be, was meant to be, he thought, endless cycles of birth and death…the infinite dance of being. He put the blanket back down onto the bed and then noticed that the lid to the silver chest was open. He went over to the chest and saw that the black lacquer box was also open and that the small red bottle was missing. He sat lost in thought until he was roused by the sound of her voice. She was singing loudly and very off key. “Buffy! What are you doing? Bloody hell woman! How long does it take for you to get clean?” She emerged from the steamy bathroom, wet and glowing and wrapped in a bright pink towel. “Not Hell. Been in heaven. Hot water and shampoo. But I think all the hot water is all gone now. Sorry.” She dropped the towel to the floor and stepped toward him. “Here’s my bit of heaven,” he murmured, drawing her into his arms. * * * * * Later, they discovered that the chest of drawers in the bedroom contained several sets of clothes. “Wonder who put these here,” Buffy said. “This is strange. I didn’t see these here before.” “Must have been Ernest.” He smiled, holding up a bright green silk shirt. * * * * * When they came downstairs, they found that someone had cooked an elaborate hot breakfast and set it out for them on the dining room table. Buffy searched the downstairs rooms but found no one. “This is getting a little creepy.” She shuddered. She came back into the dining room and sat down at the table. He was already sitting at the table woofing down the feast. “Sorry, love. Couldn’t wait. Famished,” he said between bites. She watched him in wonder as he devoured a whole baked chicken, a plate of fried potatoes and several large slices of ham. “Geez …slow down over there!” “Eat!” He waved his fork at her. “My babies need food!” Later, after they’d eaten, he took her hand and led her out the back door of the kitchen. They sat next to each other on the well worn stone steps and watched the morning sun burn off the fog. He pulled out a cigarette and smoked peacefully in the sunlight. Buffy leaned back against the steps enjoying the warmth of the sun. The garden at the back of the house was wild and overgrown. There were several meandering paths of gravel which gave the landscape a bit of form, separating the garden into several large beds filled with wildflowers, herbs and the remnants of roses which had returned to their wildwood state. The land sloped down to a small stream which cut under the stone wall at the bottom of the garden. Several large Bay trees grew near the stream and on both sides of the wall. They provided a dark island of shade in the bright sunlight. To the right of the Bay trees, growing in the direct sunlight, were hundreds of pure white lilies. The lilies had multiplied and were starting to claim part of the path and some were actually growing out of the crevices of the stone wall. The spicy scents of the Bay trees mingled with the sweet fragrance of the lilies to create an intoxicating perfume. When Spike finished smoking, he gave Buffy’s knee a quick pat. “Ready?” He stood up and took her hand and led her down into the garden. They followed a small gravel path which led from the kitchen steps to a stone bench beneath the thick, overhanging limbs of one of old Bay trees. * * * * * “I’m not Spike or William,” he began. “Oh they’re there inside of me. Still a part of me. Just as all those other ones are.” “Other ones?” she asked giving him a strange look. “Yes, many others, many lives. Most people can’t remember. But I did. Last night in a dream. You were there, too.” He related his strange dream to her. “Do you remember what Tara told you about the silver light? That it was a good thing, a sign of the love which has bound us together, in this life and many others?” he asked. Buffy nodded her head. “Yes…but she also said that just because something is good doesn’t mean it doesn’t come without a price...without consequences.” She shivered. “She was afraid that you might turn me.” “My turning days are over. I don’t think I’m capable of it anymore. Besides I don’t need to turn you to have you by my side for the rest of my life. Because I have a strange feeling that I surrendered my immortality last night.” “So just who are you?” she asked. “I guess you could call me the Dragon, love.” He grasped her hand as she started away from him. “Don’t be afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of love. They were wrong. They were all wrong. By the way, was it you who gave me the potion from the red bottle?” She nodded and told how she’d tried unsuccessfully to get him to drink it by himself and then explained how she finally got it into him. “I was desperate. You were dying.” “Did you happen to swallow any yourself?” “Yes. It burned like fire. But it worked. I couldn’t lose you. Couldn’t lose you again.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “It worked, alright.” He laughed. “So now we’ve got that all that straight. Tell me why they were all wrong. And why I shouldn’t be scared as hell right now.” “I think I should let Ernest tell you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. Ernest sat on top of the stone wall behind them, swinging his feet, a big smile on his face. “Good morning, master.” He nodded toward Spike. He jumped off the wall and walked over to where they sat and stood before them and struck a dramatic pose. * * * * * “The curious tale of the Dragon. Or why you shouldn’t be afraid of ‘im.” Ernest squeaked in a high pitched voice, pointing to Spike. “Ah…umm,” he cleared his throat and then, in a completely different voice, clear and deep, he began to speak. “Before there were demons or men, an ancient race of beings lived on this earth. Where they came from, what their origins were is unknown. They called themselves The First Ones, their lineage as old as the earth itself. Some say they came from the stars but others believe that they were just first earthly life forms to cross the sentient barrier.” “When the demons overran their world and destroyed their civilization, they went into hiding. You see the remnants of their civilization all around us.” He pointed to the stone wall. “Megaliths and strange, labyrinthine caves. Tunnels deep into the earth. These were my people. Our people.” He swept his hand toward Spike and Buffy. “When the human race rose and grew to power, they overthrew the demon kingdom. But many of the humans were just as evil as the demons, with whom they often interbred. They were savage and cruel, ruthless.” “The eldest son of our ruler fell in love with a human woman of noble Sumerian descent. At first, she rejected him. The legend was that she believed he was a demon, for he had the strange, bright red hair of our noble line, and the ability to shape-shift. She had seen him change form and knew that he wasn’t a human. He went through many trials to win her love and, at last, she recognized his goodness and accepted him for what he was.” “He claimed her as his mate and, in a sacred ceremony, his mother taught her the secret of Star Fire. She became the first Dragon Queen, or the Lily Maid, the lily being her sacred symbol. Her husband was the Dragon. Something miraculous and unexpected came out of their alliance. For they and their children walked among the humans of the earth and brought the seeds of a new civilization, teaching and passing on the knowledge of beauty, of star lore, of writing and all the ancient ways. But the first spark of civilization slowly faded, and the children of the Dragon went into hiding, waiting for the moment to try again to raise the human race out of their sleep…to help them to remember again. This cycle has repeated endless times. And so it’s been for many millenniums.” Spike interrupted him to tell him about the dream he’d had the night before. “Ah yes… Montségur Castle…The Temple of the Sun,” Ernest sighed. “A very tragic hour. There’s so few of the Dragon lineage left. Both demons and humans have sought to destroy us.” His eyes filled with tears. “But what about the Watcher’s council and all their prophecies? Why do they never mention these First Ones?” Buffy asked him gently. “Oh they have. They do. Those who ruled the world, both demon and human, created twisted and degrading myths about us, to persecute us, destroy us. Twisted the history of our people into myths and children’s fairy tales to hide the real truth—tales of evil and magic, of elves and fairies, warlocks and witches, and shape-shifters, and yes, even vampires. Yet all their efforts to distort the truth didn’t completely succeed, for these tales still hold, deep inside their words, small fragments of the reality of our lost world and knowledge.” Ernest’s features twisted and morphed bizarrely. Suddenly, standing before them, was a small rotund man with a long white beard, dark blue eyes and an enormous red nose. “So, you see, we’ve always been here, waiting, watching for the moment to try again. Never giving up hope. Trying to preserve our bloodline and our legacy. It was a very dark day indeed, for us, when Richard Sinclair, his father, was turned.” Ernest pointed toward Spike. “But as one of our people once wrote, ‘All’s well that ends well’. Richard loved his Slayer, who was, by the way, a proper Lily Maid descendant, as are all true Slayers. William and his brother were born. And although the demon world claimed William for awhile, he found his way back to you. You recognized each other again in this life. And you loved each other beyond all possible obstacles!” Ernest gave a dramatic sigh. He spoke in a rushed, excited voice, “And then glory of all glories you feed him the Star Fire to save his life! An incredible coincidence! And if I’m not mistaken you drank a bit of it yourself, didn’t you Miss Elizabeth? You’re just magnificent! What a story! Ah I shall get many meals by the telling of it. No, no… I’ll write a screen play! Yes that’s it –think I’ll call it ‘A 21st Century Dragon Queen. Or How I saved a Vampire and Found True Love…’ Perhaps I’ll get an option for a movie…I might even get to direct! Let’s see that lovely Miss Spears to play you, Buffy…and for you, Spike…” He paused as Spike uttered a brief string of profanities. “Ah sorry to get carried away. But I just love a tragic love story that ends happily. Or is that a happy love story that ends tragically? “Good grief! You’d drive a saint round the bend! I swear I’ll bite you. Give you your own little tragic ending!” Spike exclaimed. “So just what is a Dragon?” Buffy asked. “A man, or being,” Ernest smiled at Spike, “who plants the seeds of the next awakening.” “A gardener!” Buffy laughed. Spike growled. “Quite a bit of a challenge loving a vampire, eh?” Ernest winked at Buffy. “Yeah…but someone had to do it. And me being all sweet and brave and…” “No picnic trying to love a Slayer, mate,” Spike interrupted, “She can be quite the bitch…” He stopped speaking as he saw two dark figures slink around the corner of the house. “He’s come,” Ernest said, moving quickly to stand beside Buffy. He looked questioningly at Spike. “Have you made up your mind?” he asked. Spike gave him a wistful smile and stood up, pulling Buffy with him, “What must be done, must be done.” * * * * * Now we see through a glass darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part: but then shall I know even as also I am known. * * * * * Richard limped slowly across the garden toward them. Margaret held his arm protectively. Richard had a small black patch over his left eye. They stopped about ten feet away from where Spike, Buffy and Ernest stood. “Well, well. Isn’t this a sweet sight? Did you miss me sweetheart?” Richard smirked at Buffy, “How are my little ones?” Spike gave a deep growl, and with a shock, he felt himself began to morph into his demon face. He looked worriedly at Ernest. “Don’t worry,” Ernest whispered, “It’s all part of the plan.” “I see, big brother, that you’re still a sniveling, helpless vampire. Bertie forget to give you the Star Fire?” “Don’t know what you talking ‘bout mate,” Spike replied. Spike’s hand twitched as he thought, “Bloody hell, I’d like to wrap my hand around his neck…” Buffy touched his arm and he calmed immediately. She took several steps forward and stood silently before Richard, gazing at him curiously. It was the first time she’d seen him in full light. “You look so much like him,” she spoke softly, looking back a forth between Richard and Spike. “You’re not really a demon are you?” She gave him a puzzled look. “Not really a true vampire. Just a wanna be vampire, on the sidelines, just a sad man fallen into evil ways, addicted to drinking demon blood and some very nasty magic. You fooled Bertram, but not me. Wonder how you stayed alive all these years? I think you might be a bit of a shape-shifter like Ernie there.” “You think you know me Slayer? You know nothing, nothing,” he said bitterly. “Why did you come here?” “I want what’s mine!” You drank it, didn’t you?” She gave him a hard look. Richard nodded his head, staring at her in wonder and a bit of fear. “It didn’t work as you expected, did it?” She said softly. “How did you know?” She ignored his question and turned back to Spike. “Come love, it’s time for everything to end. Here. Now. For them.” She placed her hands upon the round curve of her waist and looked pleadingly at Spike. She held out her hand to him and he moved to her side. She held out her other hand toward Richard. He stared at her in disbelief, but stumbled forward anyway, and clasped her hand. * * * * * “What’s happening now?” Bertram tried to grab the binoculars out of Giles’ hand. “I must go to them. It’s my sacred duty.” “You’re sacred duty ended a long time ago, my friend. As did mine. They’ve started a new chapter here, in which neither you nor I have any say.” Bertram sat down on a fallen log. He looked so forlorn and old, that Giles felt a surge of pity. “There, there. I’m sure you’ll get to have your say with them. At some point. You’ve played your part and so have I. But it’s all over now, I think…and…” He stopped speaking and suddenly handed the binoculars to Bertram. “What do you think she’s doing?” “Bless my soul!” Bertram exclaimed as he gazed at Buffy holding Spike’s and Richard’s hands. “Has she lost her mind? And who’s that old geezer with the white beard?” “If I might venture a wild guess, I believe that’s Ernest,” Giles answered. “Ernest! That traitor!” * * * * * A strange humming sound filled the garden. Margaret took a few steps back as she watched Buffy clasp Richard’s hand. She felt a wave of jealousy wash over her. She gave the Slayer a hate filled stare. She was startled by the soft look in Buffy’s eyes. Buffy glanced down at Margaret’s waist and then back into her eyes and gave her a conspiratorial wink. Buffy took Spike’s hand and placed it on top of Richard’s. They both tried to resist, but she held their hands together between her own. She gave Spike the ‘look’, which meant –don’t mess with the Slayer. “What the hell?” Margaret placed her hand over her waist protectively. She felt the hatred inside her slip away. “What is she doing?” She felt dizzy and knelt down on the soft grass. The humming sound intensified and when she looked back up at them, it seemed as if she was gazing up through water. All the colors around her became more vivid—the gold of the grass, the oranges and yellows of the wild poppies scattered throughout the garden. And then she saw, descending out of the dark blue sky, a swarm of bumble bees. They flew lazily around the garden, circled just over Buffy’s head and then settled into the lilies growing at the edge of the wall. * * * * * No one spoke. Several minutes passed. Spike and Richard shifted about nervously. Buffy suddenly released her grip and took a step back from them. They were frozen in place, their hands remained clasped. From underneath the branches of the Bay tree, two large dragonflies darted out and nonchalantly landed on top of their joined hands. Spike and Richard both stared down in morbid fascination as the dragonflies began to shed their skins in the brutal, agonizing dance of their rebirth, almost dying in their desperate struggle, slipping out of their old world into something new, something new and unknown and exquisitely beautiful. Spike slowly stretched out his free hand and placed it against Richard’s forehead. “Brother.” Spike spoke the word quietly and with deep emotion. Richard shuddered, pressed his head against Spike’s hand and then gave a sudden gasp as he felt a rush of energy surge between them. “You’re the Dragon.” He slowly pulled off his patch and he stared back at Spike with two, now completely perfect, dark green eyes. Spike lowered his hand and shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah…who’d thought it, an old evil, undead vamp like me.” “But what does that make me? What am I?” Richard cried. “You’re my brother. And so much more…” Spike stepped forward and gave Richard a big hug. Their foreheads touched lightly. “Remember…remember” Spike whispered and then released Richard from his embrace. “Go on you git. Go to your woman, she loves you. More than life. Steal your life back from bitterness, travel a different path. Raise your child in happiness. And never forget who you are. Who we are. Don’t want to hate you Richard. I’m your brother. Forever.” * * * * * “And so it came to pass that Lilith stood between the brothers Cain and Abel, surrendering her love to both, freeing the world from the most deadly sin. But the tale was twisted down the long dark years and came to us in another form. For the powers of death would wish us to believe that Cain slew Abel and that Lilith was merely a dark demon sent to tempt men’s souls. What’s real is hidden in the dark. Waiting for those with eyes to see. To set aside the darkened glass and fall into the deep beauty of the world.” from ‘Chronicles of the First Dragon Queen’ – Ernest D. Stuart, esq. B.o.F.K. * * * * * * One year later Bertram performed the ceremony inside the stone circle, next to Spike’s Buckeye tree in the California Garden in Golden Gate Park. Dawn was the maid of honor, with Tara and Willow as bridesmaids. Richard stood up for the groom, and Ernest and Demon were the ring bearers. Giles gave the bride away and Margaret, Anya and Xander were each holding a squirming, noisy three month old baby. Ernest had been a bit unhappy to leave Demon’s children back at Rose Lyn. But Buffy had been adamant. “One cat at the wedding is quite enough. Thank you.” After they exchanged vows, and Spike was holding her in his arms, he remembered the dream he’d had of her coming to him in this very garden. Coming to him and surrendering her life to him. What a dark dream that had been. And how different things turned out, he thought gratefully. “If you only wait. Patience. Let things unfold…” His reverie was shattered by a loud wail from one of his sons. The blond one. He smiled down at Buffy. “Just like his mum, love. Always having the last word.” * * * * * Bertram threw them a small reception party at a restaurant which overlooked Ocean Beach. He’d originally planned to have the party at his old mansion. But he was overruled by just about everyone in the wedding party, all of whom, except for Dawn, had their own bad memories of the place. He finally conceded reluctantly. And so they found themselves in an ultra chic glass dining room littered with modern art. Bertram sat at the long bar, gazing out over the ocean, and sipping on a tall glass of cognac. He’d been bemoaning his fate to Giles for the last half hour. “He’s left me. After all these years of faithful service. As soon as the twins were born. He claimed I didn’t really need him anymore. And he said he didn’t want to come live with me in the South of France. Too many bad memories from the Thirteenth Century. I told him to buck up—that seven hundred years was more that sufficient time to get over such a small trauma. And then he said I was insensitive and the babies needed him. That only he would know how to raise them properly as Dragon children should be raised. And then he morphed out of his lovely green skin into that irritatingly jolly plump being with the white beard. Ugh!” He took a long drink out of his glass and gave a sad sigh. “I just hate this century. Absolutely no soul at all. No enchantment, no beauty. Everything’s made glass. Everyone feels this desperate need to be transparent. Wanting to tell you all about their deep dark secrets. Oh how I long for a little mystery. A little courage.” “For someone without a soul, you seem to mention it quite often,” Giles replied testily. “So when do you return to England? Not that I’m anxious to see you leave.” Bertram gave him an irritated look. “I was thinking of writing a book. Thought I might stay with Buffy and Spike at Rose Lyn for a few months. Take advantage of the wonderful library they inherited from you which they never seem to use. Really, I can’t imagine what you were thinking giving all those priceless books to them.” “Don’t worry Giles.” Bertram gave a little mischievous smile, “I knew what I was doing. You’ll understand one of these days.” “What are you talking about? You are the most irritating creature.” Bertram smiled, “My gift to you old man. A little mystery. No clues, well just one. Between the two of us, I’d keep my eye on the blond one.” He nodded toward the sleeping infant in Buffy’s arms. “Ah…do you think Buffy and Spike would mind if I dropped in occasionally? Really loved that old place.” “Ernest told me that you never lived there.” “Ernest is a demon. You’d believe a demon over me?” “Bertram, I’d believe the thief who repairs my car, over you.” “Well perhaps I might be of some assistance to you, in your writing endeavor. You know perhaps do some research? After all – it was my library. And I do know where all the juicy tidbits are lurking, and I did save a few of the more arcane books for myself, and....” He gave Giles a smug look. “I kept a little index.” “An index?” Giles’ face lit up. * * * * * “I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty.” – William Sinclair 1880 * * * * * “So Spike, Buffy tells me you’ve been writing.” Richard and Spike sat at a small table in the corner of the restaurant. “Yeah, though I don’t have too much time for myself. But that house has a certain energy…” He gave Richard a quick look. “I remember.” “Well makes it easy to get into the proper state to write. They’ve just been flowing out of me lately.” “Poems?” Richard asked. “Yes. Not one for the long dusty history.” He nodded toward Giles. “He’s my toughest critic.” “So tell me Spike, just what does a Dragon do with his life?” Richard asked, a bit nervously. “A Dragon changes diapers, and washes dishes and uh…what ever the Slayer commands these days. Just lives. If there’s more, I don’t know yet.” He laughed. “And you, what have you been doing?” Spike asked. Richard blushed, “Ah…” Margaret, stopping by their table, overheard Spike’s question. She bent down and gave Richard a hug. “He’s painting. These incredible large canvasses…ah the colors and his sense of light.” “Well I do have a subject that really inspires me,” Richard smiled up at her. “They’re not all of me, sweetheart. Can’t imagine where some of your images come from.” He laughed. “Dreams…so many dreams. Some of them seem so real, like memories. And I’m compelled to get them down on canvass. Such dreams…” Spike smiled. “You should hear some of my dreams…do you suppose it’s a family thing?” Richard looked thoughtfully at Spike, “You know perhaps you’re right…” * * * * * From ‘The Legend of the Dragon Children’ by Rupert Giles “There is a fine line between light and dark, who knows what it is exactly, this grey area, this silvery area on the edge of chaos, where a man and a woman may finally meet and find reality. Elizabeth Summers and William Sinclair, in their endless tug of war, so sure that what each of them knew, sensed, believed was real, touched this line, danced back and forth over this line countless times. Yet all around them, at each step forward, at each retreat was the deeper, wilder magic of choice and forgiveness, such simplicity, such an unexpected path out of their dilemma. You shouldn’t wonder why William in his tangled, brutal, desperate long life and death couldn’t understand this fundamental thing about the young woman whom he loved. And Elizabeth, with her youth, thrown so brutally into an insane heroic dance. She wanted him to choose her over everything that he believed and he wanted her to do the same. How deep, how far they traveled, only to come back to the same place: to choose to be just a man and woman loving each other. Amidst all the confusion of dreams, demons, slayers, and dragons, amidst betrayal, life, and death—reality was just this simple thing: to choose love. Where it will take them from here I do not know, my blessings are with them. Be brave, walk through fire, never fear the darkness of the abyss, just love. It’s all we truly have.” * * * * * Buffy and Spike said their farewells and left to enjoy their one night honeymoon. He had something very special planned, a night that she’d never forget, Spike informed her as he drove the old silver Mercedes out of the restaurant parking lot. Buffy laughed, “There’s already been so many nights with you that I’ll never forget. I ‘specially liked that night in the cave myself. Or what about that time I had to carry you up three flights of stairs at Bert’s house? That was fun.” He just smiled. He drove the car across the highway and pulled up next to the esplanade next to the beach. He hopped out of the car and opened the trunk of the Mercedes. He pulled out a sleeping bag. Buffy got out of the car and stared at him in disbelief. “What’s that?” “It’s a sleeping bag.” “And you’re showing me a sleeping bag because…?” “Remember that night we spent at the lake, love?” “You want me to spend my honeymoon in a sleeping bag?” “Yes…and I promise you’ll never forget it.” He pulled her close, ran his fingers gently through her hair and kissed her softly on her neck. “You’ll remember it always. Promise you. Always and forever.” She caught his hand and held it against her face. “You know, I think I just might fall in love with you.” * * * * * FIN Back to Dragonfly Home Back to Dark Dreams |