Drink Deep

DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX , Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. Theirs not mine. When the vampire turns and sees my face, he lets out a shrill scream. Plunging my stake into his heart, I dust him. Stalking through the graveyard, I search for more prey. A group of vamps sucks the life from a girl in an empty crypt. One feeds at her breast, one at her thigh, and one at her neck. They are all dead before they even know I’m there. Rivulets of blood flow from the girl’s body. She turns her head and looks at me. “The blood is nearly gone,” she whispers. It is Drusilla. Sitting up, she stretches out her arms, beseechingly. “Help my child,” she says. Her face shifts. “Hold my child,” says Darla. An infant rests in her arms. I take it, cradling it close to my chest. “He has his father’s eyes,” says Darla, in a voice filled with love. Looking down, I stare into the midnight blue of Spike’s eyes. I lose my grip on the baby, and he begins to fall. Slowly, slowly, he falls, and I am helpless to stop it. I awaken to a knock at my bedroom door with a start, my heart pounding. “He’s here,” says Dawn, her face swollen from crying. I kiss her gently, smoothing her hair. “Everything is going to be alright, Dawnie.” I try to compose myself as I go downstairs. He and Cordelia are waiting there, Angel holding an infant in his arms. “You brought the baby,” I say softly. Angel smiles at me.“Would you like to hold him?” I take a step back. “No, no thanks.” I grab my coat from the banister. “Well, let’s do this thing.” Angel kisses his child and hands him to Cordelia. “You know what to do.” She sighs impatiently. “Yes, Mr. Overprotective, I can handle it.” She grabs the blue and white bunny blanket off his shoulder and steps into the living room. Angel and I walk outside through the dark, quiet streets of Sunnydale. “Seems like old times,” he says. “Yeah, just like.” I wish it were like old times, it was a lot simpler then. He gives me a thoughtful look. “How is he?” “He’s worse. Worse than I can describe.” I find myself hurrying a little. “I’m so sorry, Buffy." It seems like he really means it. "I came as soon as I could. Things are really complicated right now.” I give him a small smile. “I understand complicated.” We reach Spike’s crypt. It is empty and bare, devoid of any personality. We climb down the ladder to the lower level. The interior is welcoming, flooded with light. Tara is sitting next to Spike in his bed. She is reading to him from a book on her lap. “Come to me in dreams, that I may live my very life again though cold in death-" She breaks off, looking over at us. Angel stares at Spike, his face rigid with shock. My lover is dying. His skin is as pale as the white sheets he is lying on, his cheeks sunken. There is no movement, no spark of animation there at all. His body has become a bloodless husk. I touch him, reaching out with my mind to feel the link between us. There is nothing there. “I can’t feel him anymore.” Angel takes my hand. “Oh, Buffy, I didn't realize it was this bad.” I drop his hand and move to Spike. “Please, just help me make him better.” Tara and I exchange a look. “Let’s get this started,” I tell her. Tara sets down a wooden tray on the bed. With a long wooden match, she lights several tapers and a cone of incense. The smell of sandalwood permeates the crypt. Touching us gently, she marks a crescent moon on each of our foreheads with oil. Next, she lights a bunch of sage. “Define our circle," she intones. White smoke fills the air, then forms into a visible barrier enclosing the four of us. “Lilith, we invoke you." She cuts her wrist, dripping the blood into a bowl, and repeats the action with Angel and myself. “Lilith, accept this blood as our offering.” She lifts the bowl with both hands. “We implore you to restore what has been broken.” The blood begins to spiral and churn inside the bowl. A red mist envelops Spike. Beginning at his head, the mist swirls down his body. As it reaches his chest, it spits forth several splinters of wood. He shakes and twitches, his back arcing in a seizure. I move to go to him. “No!” says Tara firmly. “You must not interfere.”