| November 22 Morning Anya sat in the dark. The silence in the Magic Box was occasionally broken by strange moans and whimpers from Xander, who was sleeping in the makeshift bed above her in the loft. She had absolutely no idea what to do. If she’d wanted to see him brought low, miserable and torn apart inside and out, she could get no better than seeing him in the state in which he’d arrived outside her door last night. But right now, she was conflicted, because the reality was much more terrible than the fantasy. His suffering was extreme. She could tell that something inside him had broken. Had broken badly. She couldn’t imagine what had happened to him. He had been completely incoherent last night and all she could do for him was try to get him to sleep. What had he experienced that brought him this low? In some odd way, his eyes reminded her of Willow’s when she had gone insane with grief and revenge. Revenge. She gazed down at the table in panic. What had Spike said to her yesterday? She desperately tried to recall the exact phrasing of his words. “Oh my god,” she thought in horror. “He said ‘I wish’. He said ‘I wish Xander would forgive you…no matter how painful it would be for him.’ What have I done? What have I set in motion?” She climbed the ladder up to the loft and knelt quietly by the bed. Xander’s right hand was flung over the side of the bed, palm up. In the pale light cast by the streetlight outside, she could see that his palm was red and swollen and blistered, as if he’d grasped a burning rod of iron. She shook his shoulders gently. “Xander. Wake up. Wake up.” He didn’t wake. She shook him harder. “Xander!” He opened his eyes. His eyes were still a little glazed, but she could see that he was more coherent and recognized her. “Anya,” he whispered. “Xander. Get up now. We have to talk.” Xander sat up on the side of the bed. He gave her a quick sideways look and then turned away. “Xander. This is important. You have to tell me. Tell me exactly what you did last night.” * * * * * Buffy floated in a peaceful state between sleeping and waking. She was a little cold. She reached over to pull up her quilt when her hand encountered cool skin. She opened her eyes. Not her bedroom. No quilt in sight. Only a lovely, pale vampire, stretched beside her with his head snuggled up against her shoulder and his arm draped over her stomach. Her shoulder was numb. “Spike. Wake up!” She tried to move his arm, but he gave a small growl of protest. “Going somewhere?” He pulled her closer. He slipped his hand under her sweater and moved it slowly up her stomach until it cupped the soft curve of her breast. He traced the tip of her nipple with one of his fingers, until it became erect. He pushed her sweater up to expose her bare skin. He lowered his lips to her breast and kissed it softly. “You are my love,” he whispered. With a little cry, she turned onto her back and wiggled out of the sweater. Then she turned back to him offering him her breasts. He freed his other arm from beneath her, and grasped both her breasts in his hands and began to feast upon them…tracing his cool tongue along the curves, tasting each nipple, sucking gently, pausing to rub his cheek against her yielding warmth. He raised his head, and blindly sought for her lips. She moved to accommodate him, her heart breaking at his struggle to find her. He slid up the bed, and she helped him place his arms on either side of her head, capturing her so she couldn’t move. So he could find her. His kiss was tender and chaste, as if he were discovering her lips for the first time. She opened her lips slightly and teased him with her tongue, but he refused to play. He wanted something different. Something slow, and sweet and full of tenderness. And that is what he gave her, until she forgot everything. The cold, the hurt, the anger and shame, the fear, the terrible fear for him, all washed away, all melted beneath the bliss of his lips upon hers and, of course, his touch. “His touch. Never going to live without it again. Never.” * * * * * Xander got up and stumbled over to the bookcase where he’d found the scorpion stake yesterday. He rubbed his injured hand nervously against the rough wood of the shelf. The pain in his hand was excruciating. But he deserved it. Deserved pain. Needed to face the pain. “It’s killing me,” he moaned. Anya went over to him, put her hand on his wrist, and pulled his hand away from the rough wood. “Stop it! I can feel it, Xander. It’s not the pain in your hand that’s killing you. It’s what’s in your heart.” She pulled him roughly around to face her. “Look at me. Tell me what you did.” “I killed him!” Xander cried. “I killed him and I don’t care…I can’t care…” “Who? Who did you kill?” Xander wrenched his arm out of Anya’s grasp and turned his back to her. “None of your goddamned business!” he shouted. She put her hands on his shoulders and spun him around to face her. Her face was livid with anger. “What’s your problem? Why are you so small and dark inside? Who murdered your soul?” Xander’s face turned white. Anya was back in her true demon form. He turned his head to the side. “All of you! All of you! You destroyed me the moment you let that disgusting thing touch you. You and Buffy. It makes me sick. He destroyed my life. My friends. My love. You. Look at you! He deserved to die. No telling what horrible things he’d have done with his chip out.” “Chip out?” Anya asked slowly. “What are you talking about?” “Yeah. Now you’re listening to me. No one ever listened to me. I knew that’s all he wanted to do. All he ever wanted to do. Get his chip out. Come back here and murder us all. But you women…” He spit out the last word. “Are you insane?” Anya took a few steps back. She gave Xander a long questioning look and then she touched his face with her hand. “Of course. You don’t know, do you? Stupid Spike. I knew it. I told him he shouldn’t lie about it.” She dropped her hand to her side. “Know what? What’s there to know? I did what I had… to do…” Xander’s voice faltered. “Vengeance. Vengeance is so bitter and so very, very blind. Eats you up inside, doesn’t it? You thought you’d feel better, right? But you’re just dying inside…dying. I should know.” She turned away and began to climb down the ladder of the loft. “So many lies,” she muttered to herself. Xander stood at the edge of loft watching her descend. “What lies? What are you talking about?!” he cried. She paused at the bottom of the ladder and looked up at him sadly. “Spike still had the chip, Xander. He couldn’t hurt you. And besides, even if he didn’t have the chip, I doubt he would’ve hurt anyone. That’s not why he came back. He came back to give Buffy what he thought she deserved. Someone with a soul.” Xander stood in shock. He grabbed onto the railing before him and fell to his knees. “A soul? Oh god. You’re lying.” “Xander. I don’t know exactly what you did. But if you don’t grow up and face what you’ve done like a man, you might as well just lie down and die. It’s your choice now.” She turned her back to him and walked away. “Buffy… What have I done?” he cried and sunk to the floor. * * * * * Anya paced around the Magic Shop unsure as to what to do. Should she try to find Buffy? Give her the news? Tell Rigel? She had a distinct feeling that Xander was not going to hurt anyone anymore. But she wasn’t sure if he might not hurt himself. She wanted to blame him... for his selfishness, his bitterness. But she found that she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. After all, hadn’t vengeance been her life all these years? She knew exactly how he must have felt in his moment of murderous rage. Hadn’t she incited others to the same peaks of passionate insanity? It just stunk. All of it. And she knew from that minute forward that she was out of the vengeance business completely. But right now, she didn’t know what to do. The man above her in the loft was destroyed. Well, almost. She wasn’t quite sure if he’d ever make it back. Well maybe he didn’t need to go back. Maybe he needed to go to some place quite different. Whatever the case, he’d be forever changed by his actions. Everything from here on out was his choice. Live or die. Seek some kind of forgiveness for his act. She was pretty sure that Buffy, at least, would probably never forgive him for what he’d done to her lover. And Spike… She paused at the front door and called back into the shop, “Xander, I’m going out. Someone has to tell…Buffy.” He didn’t respond and she opened the door and walked out onto the sidewalk, and into the rosy light of dawn. * * * * * Spike had fallen back into a restless sleep. Buffy sat up and pulled the covers back over them. She shivered in the early morning chill. Spike suddenly flung out his arms out and yelled. She put her hand on his chest and shook him. “Spike, wake up. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare. It’s OK. I’m here. I’m here.” He opened his eyes and then quickly closed them again. “Not a nightmare…it’s real…it’s real…everything is dark,” he moaned. “Spike, you have to tell me what happened. Who did this to you?” Spike curled up on his side, turning his back to her. He realized that he couldn’t tell her. Tell her what he knew. What the friend she’d loved and trusted all these years had done. Why couldn’t he tell her? What was keeping him from blurting out the truth? The boy had always hated him. Always. Hadn’t he, himself, wanted to do something just as bad to the stupid wanker a thousand times over these past years? “Bad bleeding luck,” he thought. “I can’t make her choose. It’d destroy her.” But this could be his moment of bitter glory, right? Separate her from her friends forever. So she’d be only his. His alone. But he just couldn’t say the words. And why the hell was he worrying about her reaction anyway? Wasn’t he the injured party here? Wasn’t he the one who was blind? But, oh god, how he loved her. Loved her. Would never hurt her again. Let her find out the truth from someone else. Let someone else destroy her world. Until then, it was a secret that he’d have to bear alone. “Don’t know, love. It all happened so fast. I must have passed out.” He turned back to face her and slid his arm around her. “You’re all cold. Please. I don’t want to talk about it now. Let me make you warm.” * * * * * Rigel opened the front door and Anya rushed inside. “Oh Rigel…it’s bad. Very bad news…it’s Spike.” “Calm down and come in, now. Come into the kitchen. Calm down. Do you know something?” Maisa stood in the kitchen doorway and growled at Anya. Anya bent down to pat the little dog. Masia gave Anya’s hand a quick sniff and started barking. “What’s wrong Maisa?” Rigel asked. “Stop being rude. Anya is our guest. Go sit. Be quiet.” Maisa ran over to the foot of the stairway and sat down on the first step. She assumed her guard dog position. “Very strange,” Rigel commented. “Must be something you touched.” Anya looked at her hand and knew exactly what Maisa was growling about. “Was she there? Was she there when Spike got staked? I can’t believe he’s gone. He was my friend you know. Was kind to me when everyone hated me. I just can’t believe he’s gone.” She flung herself down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “Spike gone?” Rigel asked. “Yes…Xander told me everything.” “Oh, Anya. Spike’s not gone. But you’re right. Something terrible, indeed, has happened to him. He’s blind.” “Not gone? Not dust? Blind? But Xander told me he killed him…dusted him I thought.” Rigel picked up the scorpion stake from the table and held it up for Anya to see. “Do you know what this is?” “Oh my god. It’s from the Magic Box. It was there last week…someone broke in yesterday…must have been Xander…Xander stole it.” She took the stake out of Rigel’s hand. “I was going to destroy it. It’s very black magic. It’s specially made for vengeance demons. It has a small reservoir in the tip. If you use it against a human, they will become a demon. If you use it on a demon, they will become human. But if you use it on a vampire, first they become blind and then they slowly disintegrate…may take a week or so after they’re struck. It’s not wood; it’s obsidian. There’s nothing you can do to counter it’s effect. Nothing. Well, nothing that I know of.” “I think you should leave, Anya. I’ll tell Spike you were here. Perhaps you could do a little research to see if there’s any cure. There must be something.” Maisa, still growling, followed Anya to the door. * * * * * Buffy untangled herself from Spike’s arms. “I need to go home and get some things and tell Dawn what’s going on. But I’ll be back later. Understand? You get some rest. And then we’ll figure out how to get your sight back. And after that, you and I need to have a long talk about you know what.” He groaned. He reluctantly let go of her hand and burrowed back under the covers. “Don’t rush. You don’t have to change your life around for me. Rigel and I will be just fine. Hear me? I meant it. I have to learn how to deal with this myself, you know. Don’t want you hanging over me pet, got that?” “Yeah, yeah…” Buffy gave him a kiss and whispered in his ear, “Don’t you know that hanging over you is one of my favorite pastimes?” “Go …and tell Rigel to come up, would you?” * * * * * Rigel was in the kitchen. He held a large, glass pitcher of water and was staring at it intensely. He jumped when Buffy came into the kitchen to say goodbye. Buffy told Rigel she’d be back in a few hours. He took the pitcher upstairs and knocked on Spike’s door. He came into the room and placed the pitcher of water on the table beside the bed. “You must drink all of this. No complaining,” he said in a very serious voice. He told Spike what Anya had said about the stake. And about Xander. “Yes, I knew it was him,” Spike said softly. “Did you tell her?” “No. Not exactly sure why not. Don’t want to hurt her. This is a bloody mess. I’m really not much use to anyone, am I? When she comes back, tell her…tell her I’ve gone away for a bit…to think things through…tell her…” “I’m not lying for you. Tell her yourself. Tell her what you feel. Are you scared?” “Grrr…Me scared? Never been, never…” he paused, “Been…scared. Scared…I’ll never hold her in my arms again. “Then why do you lie to her?” “Guess I still think that she’ll disappear again one day. Don’t want to be hurt. And besides, can’t a vampire have a few secrets to himself?” “Agghh…” he grasped his head. “The pain, oh god…” “Come on, drink. Drink it all. This is living water. It’ll purify your body, cleanse it of the poison from the stake. I know it’s helping, because otherwise you’d be gone by now according to Anya. So drink it all.” “No way that I’m gonna be able to drink all that, mate. Can’t you put a little shot of whiskey in it?” “No whiskey. You need to be conscious. Understand?” Spike proceeded to slowly drink down all the water. “Please. I need some blood, feeling very faint here,” he said, placing the pitcher back down on the table. Rigel put a leash on Maisa and locked the front door. He spoke to the little dog as he opened the gate and started walking down the street. “Blood…from Willie’s…and some groceries. Let’s see…roast beef and potatoes…a little cake.” They crossed the street and Rigel paused to look up at the sky. “Looks like there’s a storm coming…very good, very good indeed. There’ll be so many guests tonight,” he hummed happily to himself. Continued Back to Starlight Home Back to Dark Dreams |
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