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| Starlight Rigel B |
| November 20th He slept through the night and the next day. It was just past midnight when he finally woke up. He was ravenous. He checked the refrigerator and discovered to his dismay that it was empty. He’d planned to stop by the butcher’s shop to refresh his supply of blood, but he’d slept the day away and now all the shops would be closed. He had to eat. The only place he could think of to get blood at this time of night was Willie’s. He’d been avoiding Willie’s place since that first day he’d come back. He knew that sometimes she’d drop in just to harass or get info from the clientele. He put on the dark gray coat that had been a gift from Giles. On his way back to Sunnydale, he’d stopped over in London and spent a few weeks with Giles, who had tried to help him adjust to his new situation. Not that it’d been much help, because they’d spent most of the time arguing. But Giles had given him the coat as a parting gift and he liked the soft feel of the expensive, sturdy, yet soft material. It hung down past his knees, and the cloth was so tightly woven that it flowed gracefully around his body as he moved. It made him feel, sometimes, as if he were flying through air. He’d forgotten to ask Buffy what she’d done with his duster after he’d left it in her house that day. He knew he’d never wear it again. That part of him was dead. Truly dead. He decided to walk. Save money on the gas. Besides the old motorcycle needed a bit of work. The engine was running far too hot lately. He meandered slowly through the darkened streets of Sunnydale, avoiding the main, brightly lit roads. The pale light from the sickle moon, hanging low on the horizon, didn’t obscure the brilliance of the stars shining in the November sky. Underneath the heady fragrance of dead leaves, he could smell the sweet scent of young winter grass beginning to push up toward the sky. * * * * * Except for an old demon sleeping at a table in the far corner of the bar, Willie’s was empty. Willie was watching the news and looked up in surprise when Spike entered. “Spike! Long time no see! Where you been? I thought…” Willie paused and gave Spike an inquiring look. “Spike?” he looked puzzled. “What happened to you?” “Got a soul,” Spike blurted out and immediately regretted it. He quickly morphed into his vampire face and growled, “You tell anyone and I’ll…” His human face returned and he shrugged his shoulders, looking a bit embarrassed. "Ah...sorry 'bout that." “Damn man! So where’d you get the soul?” Willie asked. “Business slow?” Spike said, ignoring Willie's question. “Yeah,” Willie said. He took a few steps back to keep out of Spike’s reach. “Um...ever since the Witch went wild last spring, the demon crowd’s pretty much thinned out. That and the Slayer. She’s taken to stopping by here every night. Just to harass me. In fact, you just missed her.” Spike gulped. “That was a close call,” he thought to himself. A wave of longing for her washed over him and he began repeating his mantra under his breath, “Never loved me. Never loved me.” “Never loved who?” Willie grinned. “Nothing,” Spike mumbled. “Actually, I came here to get some blood. I want it fresh, hear? Not that trash you sold me last time.” After Spike and Willie completed their transaction, Willie offered him a scotch. “It’s the real old stuff, on the house, in celebration of the return of the prodigal…er…what the hell are you?” Spike gave a shrug, “Anyone’s call now, mate. Who’s the old git in the corner?” “Oh he’s harmless. Just an old water demon.” “Water demon? Never heard of ‘em before.” “Yeah, there’s not many left, what with most of the water around here being dead –so he claims. Comes in here for the Swiss Spring Water. He’s very picky. Drinks six bottles and then huddles off in a corner and sleeps like he was dead drunk.” Spike picked up his glass and downed the contents in one gulp. He put the glass back down on the bar and motioned for Willie to pour him another. As they slowly downed the bottle of scotch, Spike related his story to Willie. “Damn bad luck getting a soul. What are you gonna do now?” “No sure, mate. Just live,” he smiled, “What else is there? I’m still bad, by the way.” “Yeah, sure. Well watch out for the Slayer. I think she has it in for you. Always asking about you every time she stops by.” “Yeah?” Spike perked up a bit. “And what does she want to know? “Wants to know if anyone’s seen you. She gets a mean look on her face when she says it, too. I think she’s got a stake with your name written on it buddy. I’d stay clear of her if I were you.” “That’s so…” Spike said thoughtfully, “Hey Willie, do me a favor. Not too many people know about my little affliction. I meant what I said. Keep it to yourself.” “Sure man, you’ve been a good customer…I’m not one to turn my back on…er… friends fallen onto bad times.” Spike picked up his bag of blood and said good night. He’d gone about a half a block when he noticed that the old demon from Willie’s bar was following him. Spike turned quickly and shoved his face up next to the demon’s. “Got a problem?” Spike growled, morphing into his vampire face. “No…no…it’s just that…” He looked fearfully at Spike. "Would you mind changing back? My heart's a bit weak and I find it hard to talk with those fangs pointed toward me.” Spike laughed and morphed back to his human visage. “How’s that old man?” “Much better thank you. Uh… you’ll be wondering why I followed you.” “Yeah…don’t like demons messing in my business mate, what do you want?” “It’s just that…well I need some help. It’s quite dangerous living out here on the streets for someone of my advanced years. Not the strong young buck I used to be.” He smiled hopefully and Spike noticed that most of his teeth were missing. “So what do you want from me?” “I was wondering if you could put me up for a while, just until I get back on my feet.” Spike looked the old demon up and down. His skin was a faint powdery blue and had a strange translucence; he was quite human-like in appearance, except for two small horns tucked discreetly behind his ears. Unlike most demons, his eyes were a deep blue, speckled with flecks of silver; his shoulder length hair was pure white. He wore a tattered black suit that must have been at least seventy years old. He was very thin and frail looking, almost on the edge of death. “This old demon is never getting back on his feet,” Spike thought to himself, “He’s the sorriest wreck I’ve ever seen.” “Don’t think that’s a good idea.” Spike shook his head. “I don’t really like company and besides I don’t even know who you are. You could be an Anthra demon in disguise and try to dust me while I’m asleep.” “Hmm…yes I see what you mean. Well nothing ventured, nothing gained, I always say. But it did think you might do it…just out of kindness,” he smiled wistfully and started to walk away. Spike stood frozen to the spot. An uncomfortable feeling rose in his heart and he shook his head, “Wait…what did you say?” “Nothing ventured…” “No, no. About…kindness,” Spike spoke the words slowly. He went over and put his hand on the old demon’s shoulder. “Well, come on then. I’m a daft bleeding fool and will probably regret this in the morning, I’m sure. So... what’s your name old man?” * * * * * Xander was walking home after patrolling with Buffy. Lately he’d find himself standing outside of the Magic Box in the early morning hours. He didn’t know what possessed him to keep coming back to the place. It held so many bad memories for him now, but still there it was. He’d patrol with Buffy and then intend to go straight home, but instead he’d find himself walking down the street toward the store. Tonight he made a conscious decision to avoid it. He took a back alley and was surprised to see Spike walking ahead of him, with his arm draped over the shoulders of what appeared to be a very old demon. “What fresh evil is this?” he thought. He slowed down and decided to follow them from a distance. He followed them for about fifteen minutes. They wound through back streets and crossed over the railroad tracks and into the warehouse district at the north edge of town. He hid behind a burnt out truck and watched as Spike and the old demon entered what appeared to be an abandoned house. “So that’s where he’s been hiding out.” Xander waited until they’d gone inside and then ran back home. * * * * * Spike unlocked the front door and showed Rigel around the downstairs living areas. “The upstairs is mine. Don’t go up there, got that? You can stay in this room next to the kitchen.” He showed Rigel the small room. It had a large window facing northeast that opened out over the back yard. Rigel stood by the window gazing up at the sky and gave a deep sigh. “Just wonderful, Spike. I’ll never forget this. Never.” “Yeah, yeah save it for someone who cares. Here’s a blanket. I’m going to have bit to eat and then I’m off to sleep. Don’t touch anything!” He gave Rigel a hard look. * * * * * Spike stood looking out the north facing window of his bedroom at the stars. The moon had set and he wished that he could leave the curtains open and fall asleep watching the stars. A risky proposition, for with his tendency to oversleep, he just might end up taking a dusty sun bath. He smiled to himself, “I could buy an alarm clock.” And then he thought of all the times she’d awakened him so that he wouldn’t get caught in the sun, and his smile faded. * * * * * November 21st The next evening Spike and Rigel were sitting in the kitchen eating their dinner. Spike was sipping on a cup of warm blood and Rigel was on his fourth bottle of Mont Rose. Spike eyed the demon sitting across from him. “It’s a bit of an expensive habit, don’t you think?” Rigel finished off the bottle with relish and set it down on the table. “Not really, I run a few errands for Willie and sometimes he gives it to me for free.” “So just exactly what is a water demon?” “We guard sacred springs and rivers, sometimes lakes.” “Doesn’t sound very evil or demon-ish to me,” Spike smiled. “Well I’m not exactly a demon, more of a dryad, you might say. A water spirit –but I can be just as bad as the next demon…grr…errk!” He tried to imitate Spike’s trademark growl. It sounded more like a squeak. They both laughed. “I have something I’d like to show you out in the back yard.” Spike held out his hand to the help Rigel out of his chair. They walked out to the back yard. “Ah…” Rigel knelt beside the small spring and started to take a sip of the icy water. “I’d be right careful of that water. Last time I drank it …” “It’s the Spring of Eridanus!” Rigel exclaimed. “And the water’s still alive!” “Alive? You alright there?” “Yes…yes…don’t worry about me…it’s just that…well who would imagine in this place…this old house and this terrible neighborhood. Who did you say owned the house?” “Didn’t say.” “Well never mind, plenty of time for that latter. Just think of it. The spring…Ah Eridanus, the river of tears…the river which flows between heaven and hell. “A river of tears,” Spike repeated slowly. “Bloody Fantastic. Just what I needed in my backyard. * * * * * That night Spike had another dream. He was back in the cave with the demon shaman, and the beetles were crawling over him, biting and tunneling into his flesh. He screamed, but no sound came out of his mouth. The next thing he knew he was laying on the floor of he cave, barely able to move. He opened his eyes and tried to speak. He needed to speak. The words burned inside his throat. He was desperate to get them out. Finally he croaked, “…what she deserves…deserves….” and then he passed out only to awaken next to the small pool in the back yard of his house. His hand was hanging over the stone ledge and his fingers were submerged in the cool water. He felt a strange tingling in his hand and up his arm, almost as if a thousand small stars were dancing up through his skin and empty veins. He quickly pulled his hand out of the water and sat up. Buffy was sitting about ten feet away from him. She had a stake in her hand and was absently tapping it back and forth on the ground. “Why are you here?” she asked him. “Because I love you,” he answered. “Why are you here?” She looked down at the stake in her hand and then back up at him, “This is for him.” “Him?” “He really, really needs to die. Don’t get in my way. I mean it Spike. He has to die.” “I don’t know who you’re talking about. Who’s he?” “Don’t protect him. I know he’s here. Somewhere. Where are you hiding him?” She stood up and walked over to where he sat. She stood before him and stretched out her hand toward his face. She bent over and, placing her hand tightly around the back of his neck, she pulled his face up to hers and gave him a deep, long, sensuous kiss. She stood up and ripped off her dress. She cupped her breasts suggestively, slowly massaging her rosy nipples with her fingertips. “You want some of this, don’t you,” she said in a low voice. “Come m’ere you bad, bad boy…got something all wet and sweet for you.” She straddled his lap and slowly lowered herself onto his suddenly naked and very aroused body. * * * * * “Oh god, god…please! No more dreams!” His eyes jerked open in horror. He rose from bed, pulled on his jeans and grabbed his coat and started to leave his bedroom. Then he paused, swung around and gave his bed a vicious kick. “I’m bloody well never sleeping again!” He fled down the stairs and out into the night. 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