(The
Heart of the Night)
AUTHOR: 1stRab-id aka Raeann
FEEDBACK: Rabid1st@yahoo.com
ARCHIVED AT: www.oocities.org/drowning_inyou/
BETAS: Binkysab, LostAngel and ElektraWWF from FanForum
CHARACTERS: Buffy/Spike
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Through the fifth Season ending episode, THE GIFT.
SYNOPSIS: This is the story of the Slayer’s final destruction, and the part played by her vampire lover, Spike. So, this is how, I would end the series. This story is set 2 years after THE GIFT. Many things have changed in the lives of the characters but do NOT be alarmed. To my knowledge there are NO spoilers in this fic. However, to avoid confusion let me bring you up to speed. In my little corner of the Buffyverse: Willow and Xander have accepted Spike into the Scoobie Gang, Spike was instrumental in bringing Buffy back from the dead in the Season 6 premiere, Xander and Anya have married and have a child, Tara has died, Dawn is, of course, 16 years old, Giles has moved back to England, Oz has moved back to Sunnydale and Buffy has a job as a traffic cop aka meter maid. This is my idea of logical progression. Hey, lots of things can happen in 2 long years.
PART 7
Willow, Xander, Anya and Oz sat in a silent circle at the round research table in the Magic Box. Willow was holding onto Oz’s hand, plucking nervously at his fingers, as she craned her neck to see past the Watcher’s Council guards into the backroom. The remains of the Scoobie Gang had come together at the magic shop, to compare notes on the Summers' girls' movements and possible current location. They had been startled to find the Watcher’s Council already in residence.
The news of Dawn and Buffy’s disappearance was hardly conveyed when the Slayer herself arrived. Buffy’s immediate collapse had set the stage for a shift of power. Quentin Travers and the other Watchers had sent Faith after Spike armed with a Holy Water purified sword. Buffy’s friends had been herded out of the training room, told only that the Slayer had disgraced herself and was dying.
“I wish they would let me back in there,” Willow said, plaintively. She turned pleading eyes toward Oz, asking, “Why won’t they let me see her? Maybe I could help! Do a spell? Brew a potion?”
“They got witches on the Council, Will,” Xander reminded, not unkindly. “But I still think they should let us be with her. If she's really going to…" his voice trailed off as he sighed and looked toward the guard. Glancing back at the group, he leaned in to suggest, "Anyone else up for storming the door?”
Oz raised one hand. Anya nodded her agreement.
“How do they know that Buffy’s going to die?” Willow exclaimed, with a desperate edge to her voice. “I mean...how would they...they can’t know that can they?”
“Definitely suspect,” Oz assured, in his unflappable drawl. “Seems like faulty forecasting to me.”
“It’s because they think that the prophecy about Lilith is coming true,” Anya explained, patiently to Oz, not appreciating the concept of a comforting lie. “The Night Monster will feed on the Slayer’s life force growing ever stronger as her vampire lover feeds on the blood of the innocent.”
“But not Dawnie, right?” Willow asked, in horror. She squeezed the fingers of Oz's hand, so hard he nearly flinched. “Spike wouldn’t feed on little Dawn?”
"Not Spike," Anya corrected, impatiently. "Lilith! She's growing inside him now, like a baby in the womb and…" Xander nudged Anya and shook his head, slightly. She broke off her commentary, looking over at him and then back at Willow's distraught face before quickly chirping, "It's probably all just a big misunderstanding," she favored the Wiccan woman with a beaming fake smile and added, "I'm sure Buffy isn't really dying even as we speak."
The guards at the door shifted, slightly, and the gang caught a glimpse of their friend's body; limp, seemingly lifeless, on the old training room sofa. Her complexion was ashen and her hair was plastered to her skin in a sweaty tangle.
Buffy tried to shift her position and failed. She felt drained, weak and hopeless. Each new breath took tremendous effort. She had no strength left in her trembling limbs, no fight in her at all. The bond with Spike was like a red tether, binding her to the source of all evil. A being that was dragging the life from her even as it consumed him.
Giles was talking to her, explaining things, as the Council understood them. Her drinking of Spike's blood was ordained in the sacred text of the Rossi gli abiti. It was written, predicted…foretold in prophecy.
"'And one of this calling (the Slayer) shall die and be remade by the blood of the other,'" Giles quoted and then paused to illuminate for her, "Referring, we now believe, to your resurrection and Spike's part in it," he explained. Buffy gave a small gasp of understanding and Giles shifted on the arm of the sofa glancing worriedly at Travers.
The senior Watcher continued the remorseless translation, "'And they shall set aside their battle and find peace in one another. They shall not find pleasures of flesh, nor sustenance in blood, nor free hunting, nor any other thing which might quench or satisfy until they seek it in each other. But in the bed of conception they will twine together, sated and she will drink and they will open one another in every way imaginable, through body, mind, blood, the seed of the dragon blooming in the pearled damp swell of…'"
"Yes," Giles interrupted Travers, with a nervous cough. "Well, the gist is, Lilith was conceived when you drank from Spike without his drinking from you during your," his voice cracked and he gave his glasses a quick polish before forcing out the words, "Y-your time together. And unless Faith kills him…" he trailed off again.
"…BEFORE sunrise," Travers finished the thought. He cleared his throat, pointedly, and quoted, "'The First One, Blessed of the Night (Lilith) will be reborn and the plague of Humanity will be washed away. When the first glimmer of light from the new day touches the Cuore Della Notte, all that is Holy will be cast out and all that is Unholy remade in the image of the Night Monster.
“Giles,” Buffy called, weakly. Her former watcher leaned in, very close, to catch her labored whisper, “Faith…can’t…kill Spike.”
“Buffy,” Giles soothed, gently pushing the damp hair from her forehead, “I’m so sorry. I know what he means to you. I know this is all very painful but there really is no other way to stop Lilith from rising.”
“No!” the Slayer corrected him with some force as she struggled to sit up. “I mean, Faith isn’t capable of killing him," she gasped out, falling back. "She doesn’t have the skill.”
“Faith is an accomplished Slayer,” Travers said, dispassionately. “If she defeats this beast we will arrange for her release from prison. She will have her freedom. If she fails she will die with the rest of us. I think that is enticement enough for her to succeed.”
Buffy coughed on her laugh. She took in a couple shuddering breaths and managed a sneer as she said, “Spike has killed two of your ‘accomplished Slayers', already." Talking about her love brought a small smile to her face. It seemed to strengthen her and she pushed herself upright, nearly sliding back but bracing against Giles, as she continued, "And he has trained with me for the past three years. I can beat Faith. I'm not sure I can beat him.”
“You are hardly in a position to judge other Slayers," Travers' barked. "Your distressing fascination with this particular demon is well documented and has led to this…"
“Yes, Thank You, Quentin!" Giles snapped, glaring at the Council President. "Remarkably sensitive, as usual."
Buffy’s former Watcher had a tight grip on her elbow. It was all that was keeping her from sliding bonelessly to the floor. Giles was painfully aware that his dear friend was dying. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The thing Spike incubated in his body was feeding on Buffy’s life force, eating away at her like a cancer. Every second ticking by saw Lilith growing stronger and the Slayer growing weaker. Buffy, leaned into him, as she tried to gain her feet. After a bit of scrambling, she dropped back to the sofa, exhausted. Her muscles were shaking uncontrollably but her voice, when she spoke, was as fiery as the red light in her eyes.
“Faith is going to die!” she declared, without a touch of doubt.
“Then we are all dead,” Travers’ returned, just as certain in his pronouncement as the Slayer was in hers.
“Not if you help me,” Buffy reasoned. “I can stop this.”
“You?” Travers scoffed. “You can’t even stand under your own power. What possible advantage do you think you would have over Faith?”
“I don’t know,” Buffy replied, with a touch of her usual spunk, “Maybe the ‘distressing fascination’ runs both ways.”
“You think you could get through to Spike?” Giles asked, taking her meaning. “Bring his personality to the surface? Possibly weaken Lilith?”
“Ridiculous,” Travers dismissed, with a sharp wave of his hand. “We are talking about a demon, a vampire. It exists only to feed and propagate. It has no ‘personality’ for her to influence.”
“But isn’t it worth a try?” Buffy challenged, concentrating her attention on Giles and, silently, urging him to help. “If I could distract him, even for a second, Faith might find an opening.”
“And isn’t it more likely that you simply want to assist your Demon Lover?” Travers asked, snidely. His cold gaze almost pierced her skin as he lectured, “You have always had a weakness for these creatures. Do you think that the filthy thing feels as you do? That it loves you? It is incapable of love. Incapable of any higher emotion or complex thought. It exists to perpetuate itself and to inflict pain and suffering. A vampire is less self aware than an animal.”
“You know nothing about Spike…about any of them,” Buffy said, quietly, her tone more pitying than angry. “You never have. All of your training and watching and researching has left you with so little understanding.”
“And what would you have us understand?” Travers inquired. His sweeping look included the other Watchers in his remark.
“That what the soul gives us is the ability to chose our path,” Buffy replied, with renewed vigor. "It frees us from Destiny. It gives us remorse and compassion and the promise of eternal bliss. It guides us. A vampire has no guide, but that doesn’t mean it can’t love. Love isn’t good or evil. Love is a separate force and it doesn’t discriminate. It can destroy as easily as it creates. I think I'm proof of that. Even the most unworthy creature can love. And be loved in return. Maybe we were given souls so we could guide the soulless one's who love us. Maybe we can free them too.”
A bout of coughing wracked the Slayer’s body forcing her to stop talking. Only Giles’ arm around her shoulders kept her upright. After a time, she wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth and continued her plea.
“Please," she begged, letting go of her pride in her effort to persuade them as she struggled again to stand. “You don't have to help me, just let me go to my friends. Spike loves me. I know he will hear me."
She fell to the floor but started forward on her hands and knees. Travers blocked her way and she ground out her defiance between clenched teeth, "You know…I could use a little help here but unless you’re planning to hold me down, get the Hell out of my way.
"Buffy," Giles began, but the Slayer cut him off.
"I am going to him, Giles. If I have to crawl," she growled. "This thing…it's killing both of us and all I want to do is make it stop.”
Giles was at her side in a second, lifting her up, steadying her as he asked the other Watchers, "What do we have to lose?"
Travers sighed, giving ground. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped around to take Buffy's elbow on the opposite side from Giles.
“Very well," the Senior Watcher said. "You may try to influence this…SPIKE. But," his voice dropped into a low warning register, "do not interfere with Faith in her duties while you test your theories about,” he sighed, again, “soulful love.”
The gruff old man gave the Slayer the smallest of smiles as she looked up at him in surprise. Giles put an arm around her waist and offered his shoulder as a crutch. Buffy slid one foot forward and then the other. Slowly, the little group made their way across the training room, through the shop door and out to the waiting Scoobies. Willow was first out of her chair, reciting a quick strengthening spell for her friend. Xander, Oz and Anya rushed to offer their assistance, closing in a protective circle around the Slayer.
“Wake the girl,” Saul commanded, as Spike finished off a third bowl of blood. “When she stirs he will be drawn to her.”
One of the acolytes leaned over Dawn and blew a puff of sweet powder into her face. Spike turned to look at the girl as she began to flail about. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. He was dressed in a ceremonial loincloth and his body had been painted with archaic symbols. His eyes were crimson and his mouth was wet with blood.
Screaming into alertness, the Slayer’s baby sister sat up, abruptly.
"Willow," she yelled and without hesitation, Spike sprang at her causing a collective sigh to go up from the half-dozen monks. The blond vampire yanked the teenager into a close embrace and bit into her throat for the second time that night.
“Bring him another meal,” Saul ordered. “Quickly! This one won’t last long.”