Shadows of the Resurrection
By: Michelle
Notes are on Chapter 1.
name="cutid1">Chapter 6
Xander stood in the kitchen for a moment longer. He stared at the bathroom door, debating whether or not to confront Spike or let things lie. Never one for inaction, Xander took a cautious but determined step toward the bathroom where Spike was undoubtedly getting naked and wet right now. Shaking off that image, and bolstering his courage, Xander didn’t even knock on the door. He just walked in.
“What did you mean you hadn’t been teasing since I grabbed you?”
The shadowy figure behind the shower curtain paused. Xander could see arms lower, and the silhouetted body turned toward him. He watched as one of the shadow arms reached up and pulled the curtain aside. Again, he was struck by Spike’s sheer beauty. Alabaster skin that really should be a turn-off in its deathly pallor, but somehow wasn’t; long lean limbs and sharp angles that made the vampire seem to be carved from marble. Spike’s shining blue eyes blinked at him as water dripped from his brow.
“What did you mean, Spike?” He asked again.
“Just exactly what I said. When you grabbed me, the kiss stopped being about teasing.” Spike reached for the towel he had placed on the bar above the toilet and dried himself off quickly. Stepping out of the tub, he wrapped the towel around himself and made to leave the room. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed.”
“Umm, I do mind. Not about you getting dressed, but this needs to be settled.”
Spike whirled on him. “What needs to be settled, pet? Hmm? I know what I was doing in there. I liked it; I wanted it. You’re the one that needs to settle things for himself. And as much as it may appeal to me to help you with that, anything that comes from me doing so will be false. I don’t do false. I’m an honest bloke, Xander. If nothing else about me, you know that to be the truth. So, you go settle your mind about what happened. Whatever you decide, I’ll live with. But know this: I wanted you, still do. But I won’t force this issue. Ever. Now leave me alone, like I tried to do for you, and figure yourself out Xander.” He turned and walked away from Xander for the second time that night.
Left standing in the bathroom, Xander could only marvel at the fact that Spike wanted him, and that the vampire who never used any of their names had called him by his twice in the same speech. Xander had a lot to think about.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike pulled his clothes on in an angry rush. Confused, pissed, hurt that Xander couldn’t get himself straightened out, he raged silently. After combing and gelling his hair into order and donning his duster, Spike walked out into the living room and told Xander he was going out. “Need to kill something. Back later.”
“Spike! Wait.”
“What? Got an appointment with some nasties, pup. Need to be going.”
“I just wanted to let you know....I wanted the kiss too. I don’t know what that means. Don’t know if I want you or what. But I wanted you to kiss me.” Xander met Spike’s gaze with trepidation. “I don’t want to have to walk on eggshells around you, not after we’ve worked so hard to become friends this summer. That would be stupid and pointless. We need to work together, and right now, the girls need us. I just wanted to be honest with you, since you were with me. It’s only fair.” He sighed at Spike’s unchanged expression. “Go ahead, go kill what you need to - so long as it isn’t people - and I’ll wait here. I’m sorry if what I’ve figured out so far doesn’t help you or us, but I can only say what I know.”
Spike blinked at him, dipped his head in an acknowledging nod and left. He heard Xander’s whispered “be safe” and curled his lips into a smile.
Spike prowled through the cemeteries in the dark, staking fledges before they could even emerge fully from their graves. Easy work, not particularly conducive to working off angry energy, but it satisfied his urge to kill. The urge to fight or shag, however, was still demanding an outlet, and no demons seemed to be willing to sacrifice themselves on the altar of Spike’s un-mercy. Just as well, it left him free to think about the kiss and what it meant to him and possibly meant to Xander. And he couldn’t believe he’d called the boy by his name not once, but twice. He shook his head, berating himself. Yeah, Spike. That’s one way to keep your feelings a secret. But again, in all honesty to himself, he hadn’t known he’d developed those feelings until he’d felt those large strong hands grip his arms and pull him forward. Yeah, that had been the eyeopener for ole Spike.
So, how did he really feel? He thought about it, examined it from every possible angle and came up with absolutely squat. He had no idea. He knew he liked the boy; knew he wanted to taste him again, perhaps even more. But he didn’t quite know how deep those feelings went. Sure, Xander was his friend. He’d grown accustomed to being in the boy’s life and having the boy in his. Xander kept a neat space, had decent taste in telly and music - though the country stuff had to go (but secretly he was beginning to enjoy it, best not tell the whelp that!) - and he was funny and smarter than the others gave him credit for. And silly and forgetful - how many times was Spike going to have to take his clothes to him in the shower? - and the boy knew how to tease in the best and worst ways possible. So what did this all add up to? Spike’s life would be boring without him, but it was more than that. He needed the companionship, the unconscious closeness. The warmth. Now that he had all those things, he wasn’t about to give them up without a fight. So yeah. He wanted Xander there.
Having reached that decision, he felt more at ease, the urge to fight fizzled to contentment. He started back toward the apartment. As he walked along the dark streets, he noticed the deeper shadows in the corners growing longer, stretching out along the buildings, fingers of darkness creeping into windows, and along easements. He perked his ears up, listening for the silent wailing that his vampire senses could barely detect. Not hearing anything, he decided to let it go, but kept up a wary vigil on his way home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Powers called on for resurrection are not passive; they do not simply rise and perform. They are sentient, seeking, malignant. Resentful. They felt the vampire rise to their presence and stopped, withdrawing their dark fingers from the walls and entrances of human dwellings. Not wise to let the creatures they seek know of them, or sense them. The human girl was going to pay for escaping them. If not by her own blood, then through that of her friends.
When confident that the vampire could no longer sense them, and was no longer wary of them, the darkness stretched again. The powers curtained inside it stretching their silent, inky fingers into the night, seeking recompense in blood, not caring at the moment who suffered under their dark desires. The old man had been wonderful. His knowledge of this town’s evil delicious, his fear a delicacy they yearned for again.
Oiling the night with their presence, the darkness stalked the streets, encompassing buildings and alleys, feeding on every little living thing their fingers touched. The stray cats whose caterwauling ceased upon their presence, the mice and rats that were skiddering through dank alleys but stopped in the throes of death when grazed by black hands. They all fed the darkness. But it wasn’t enough. Would never be enough until the red headed witchhuman that dared to call them surrendered. She would be theirs or she would die.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tara sat on the couch, Willow curled around her in sleep. She smiled in contentment as she slid her fingers through the copper strands of Willow’s hair and breathed in the woman’s uniquely herbal scent. She looked over to where Buffy and Dawn were curled into each other, as sisters separated often do upon reunion.
Buffy was stroking Dawn’s hair. It was a tender mercy that Dawn enjoyed from her sister and one that she and Willow had tried to give her in the Slayer’s absence. But they both could tell that Dawn knew the hands in her hair weren’t Buffy’s, so eventually, they had ceased. Though, Tara frowned in remembrance, Willow had been stroking Dawn’s hair the morning of the Resurrection. Had that been a clue? Should she have been aware of that? Had Willow been hinting at her plans all along? The questions drove Tara inward.
Giles walked in on the girls in the living room. He saw the two pairs curled upon one another and nodded at the appropriateness of the moment. No one was really paying attention to the movie they’d found. Some dreadful piece about a silly woman and her diary. He shook his head at the absurdity of the woman’s accent and pretended he wasn’t fascinated by the goings on of the film. Did she not know that the quiet man with the moose on his shirt was desperately in love with her? And that the cad of man she wanted was sleeping with his American business associate? Repulsive.
The silence of the house comforted the inhabitants. They relished the opportunity to just enjoy each other’s quiet company. No harsh words, no desperate research through dusty books. Just companionable silence, broken only by the voices on the television. The stillness lent a serenity to the house, a peaceful feeling that enveloped everyone, encouraging them to maintain it. Silence begat silence, and they let it.
Tara, who had been focused on her doubts and sudden realizations, was the first to end the peace. She felt Willow shudder and spoke softly into the girl’s ear. “Sweetie? You alright?”
Willow just shuddered again, mildly, but soon she began shaking outright, her body jerking away from Tara to flail upon the couch. Her moans and cries penetrated and obliterated the stillness, alerting all there to the presence of something malevolent in their midst. Giles rushed over to Willow, laying an hand on her arm, trying to still her violent shudders. “Willow? Willow! Please, wake up! Come on!”
“Giles? What’s going on?” Buffy had risen and made her way over to the three of them, terrified of what was happening to Willow.
“I don’t know, but perhaps you should take Dawn upstairs, away from this.”
Willow’s voice came to them, “It won’t matter, Ripper. We’ll have her eventually as well. This one is so delicious, though she refuses us.”
“Oh my god.” Giles heard Dawn’s tortured whisper.
“It’s alright, Dawn. I’ve seen this before. Willow is vulnerable in sleep, and they can possess her. She hasn’t surrendered, however, so they can’t take her. Only make her want to give up. If we weren’t here, it could be much worse.” He turned back to Willow’s sleeping but speaking form. “You know me, then. You know I do not give up easily, if ever. You will not take this one, either. You’ve had everyone else-”
“Not everyone, Ripper.” the darkness mocked him with Willow’s voice, the unspoken name hanging heavily on the air.
“And you never will. Now you will leave this one.” He turned to Buffy, “Get me a lighter, a candle, anything to shine a natural light in her eye, Buffy.”
“Will a flashlight do?”
“No. It needs to be natural. Not electric.” She nodded and went in search of the emergency tapers she kept in the kitchen. He turned once again to Willow. “Why do you want this one?” He thought speaking to it would keep the darkness occupied and present, so he could at least offer it some harm.
“She called on us, Ripper. Without repayment. Blood magic you know calls for life, she offered us hers and fled before she could pay.”
“I’m confused then. Did she not have the blood sacrifice?”
“Fawn’s blood. Worthless to us, but enticing enough to call us.”
“Now you want hers?”
“Yes.” Giles turned when Buffy reappeared with the lit candle. “Well, you can’t have her yet!” And he held the candle close to Willow’s face, holding her eyes open to allow as much of the candle flame as possible in. He saw the darkness retreat from the light and directed Tara to wake Willow. Tara shook her violently by the shoulder, calling her name over and over, begging her to wake up, to open her eyes, to come back to them.
She and Giles felt Willow stir beneath their hands. Her eyes snapped open, full of fear and betrayal and relief. She reached one hand up to grasp Giles’ arm and pulled herself up, then turned and grabbed Tara, curling herself into the woman’s embrace.
“Don’t let them have me? Please, don’t let them take me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Bind me, don’t let me hurt any more.” Her pleas fell in amidst her sobs, tears tracking down her face to soak Tara’s skin. Tara looked up to Buffy and Dawn.
Buffy’s resolute face showed none of the fear nor forgiveness she felt for her friend. She saw Tara frown and reassured her, “We’ll get these guys, Tara. I won’t let them take Willow. She’s foolish, impulsive and far too arrogant, but she was doing what she thought would help the world. I can’t let her be taken away.”
“Thank you.” Willow spoke softly, her words conveying her relief at Buffy’s assurances. “Buffy? I never knew, never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to make things right.”
“I know, Will. We’ll talk after, alright. I can’t deal with the emotional right now. You and me? We’ll talk. We’ll resolve. But let me kill these things first.”
Willow nodded.
“I hate to dwell on what just happened, Willow, but we need to figure out what exactly is going on. Can you remember anything about what you were seeing or dreaming before the attack?” Giles had his Watcher face on, and spoke calmly, authoritatively.
“Umm, sure. I guess. I remember seeing darkness. Big surprise there. But it was, I don’t know, alive? Somehow. It knows me, knows how to get to me. I saw it killing things, little things. Rats, cats in the alleys. I saw it creeping into alleys and down streets, swallowing buildings and heading for me. It’s like it’s actually hunting me. I felt its anger, its enjoyment of killing. It liked the taste of the blood. Oh god. I think I’m gonna be sick!” She stood quickly and raced to the bathroom, Tara following behind her.
“I was afraid of that.” Giles gave a resigned sigh, slumping down into the sofa.
“What?” Dawn asked.
“The darkness isn’t just shadow, Dawn. It’s the physical presence of several entities. Each has a sort of malignant consciousness.”
“You mean, it knows what it is and what it’s after?”
“Yes. Precisely. It is actively seeking Willow, and if she refuses to surrender to its demands, it will seek to undo her. Psychologically speaking.”
“It’ll hunt and kill those she loves, until she finally gives in.” Dawn interpreted.
“Yes, again.”
“We can’t let that happen Giles. Who will be next?”
“Quite possibly Tara.”
Buffy strode up to them, slicing her hand through the air. “Enough. That’s not going to happen. We’re going to put a stop to this thing, and it’s going to happen soon. I may not have wanted to come back, but now that I’m here? Let’s get back to business. I didn’t give permission for any hitchhikers and by god, I’m not letting this one get anything or anyone that belongs to me.”
Giles grinned up at his Slayer. “Well said, Buffy. Very well said.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tara held Willow’s hair back as the girl’s stomach emptied itself into the commode. Holding a cool cloth against the back of Willow’s neck, she whispered soothing words and made shhshhing sounds trying to calm the frightened woman.
Finally Willow rose and wiped her mouth with the damp cloth. “I’m alright. Just had to be sick there, I guess. I don’t want to know this stuff, Tara. I don’t want to like the taste of blood, and having had that - those things inside me, I did. It felt good Tara. Right. Satisfying, when it killed those animals. Like something had been fulfilled, a promise kept. It’s awful! To know that the creatures are dead, but that I like it? I don’t want this, I don’t want it at all.”
“Calm down. We’re not going to let it have you. Never going to give you up or let anything take you away from me, remember?”
“Yes. I remember. I remember.” Willow calmed immediately, smiling at the remembered promise Tara made.
“Good. Brush your teeth, rinse your face and let’s go downstairs. Listen to what Mr. Giles has to say.”
Willow giggled. “It’s so cute the way you call him ‘Mr. Giles.’”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I do it just for you, you know. Let’s go.” She led Willow back downstairs, where Buffy and Dawn and Giles had settled back down to finish the movie. Willow frowned, until Dawn saw her and caught her eye.
“We’ll take care of it, Willow. Nothing is going to happen to you, and those things are so much chopped liver when Buffy finishes with them. Or rather, when I finish with them, since I’m gonna the be the uberlight. So sit. Chill. Have some popcorn and let’s finish watching Hugh Grant be a butthead.”
They settled back down on the couch, and watched the movie. No one noticing when everyone drifted off to sleep right where they were.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike finally made it back to the apartment and stood outside the door. He’d kept one step ahead of that darkness all the way home, feeling it behind him like evil manifest - and he really should know what that felt like, he was it for a while. But now, all he wanted was to get inside the apartment, see that Xander was alright, and go to sleep. The sun would be up shortly and his sleep schedule had been severely disturbed the last couple of days. He sighed and opened the door.
The apartment was dark, but for the television that was on, the volume turned down low the way Xander liked. Spike stepped lightly, so as not to wake Xander if he happened to be sleeping, and went into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He heard stirring on the couch in the living room and looked up to see Xander staring at him.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He said after swallowing his sip of beer.
“I wasn’t asleep.” The answer came as Xander stood and moved into the kitchen.
“Oh.” Spike frowned. “It’s late, pup. Nearly sun up. You should have been sleeping.”
“I was waiting for you. I...” Xander frowned. “I was worried about you. We don’t know what those things are, how they operate. All we know is that they want Willow. Who knows what else they could be after. I was worried.”
“I’m fine, pet. Right as rain. I thought I saw the thing, but couldn’t hear it, so I came home. Kept an eye out though. You didn’t have to worry ‘bout me. Remember? I’m the Big Bad?” Spike tried to laugh off Xander’s concern.
“Don’t do that. Don’t laugh at me.”
“Not. Just trying to ease - ” Spike began.
“Just don’t.” Xander stepped up to him, taking the beer out of his hand. “I was worried. And that made me realize some things. So. I guess you could say I figured myself out, Spike.” He leaned in and tentatively placed his lips over Spike’s, sucking in the full bottom lip to taste him.
Spike stood in shocked stillness, letting Xander taste him and explore. He pulled away from the younger man and asked, “And what have you figured out?” He braced his hands on the counter behind him, anxious to hear what Xander had to say.
“I’ve grown accustomed to you. To your presence in my life. You make things easier to stand, tolerate. I like the,” he struggled for the right words, “unconscious closeness that has somehow developed here. I like that you think I’m funny and smart, and that we share tastes in television and music - and don’t think I don’t know you listen to my Big and Rich CD. I like that you’re here, that you remember to bring my clothes to me in the shower because I’ve forgotten. I like that I can forget because you’re here.” He lifted a hand to run his fingers through Spike’s gel crisp hair. He laughed when he got stuck and Spike winced. “I like that you use half a bottle of gel to tame your hair, and I like when you don’t. I like when, after snuggling me all night, you’re so used to the heat that you’ll squirm to fill my spot in the bed when I get up.
“I like when we argue, because no matter who wins, the paybacks are great. You challenge me, protect me, make me laugh and make me so angry I see red. You’ve kept me alive when I wanted to die.” He sighed. “I like you. I want you to stay. I’m asking you to stay. And right now? I’m begging you to kiss me.” He backed away from Spike, looking into the blue eyes. “Does that answer your question?”
Spike nodded. “Yeah.” The whisper seemed torn from his lips.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” Xander asked, afraid that he may have really fucked things up earlier, but still hopeful, because Spike was still standing there and not running screaming from the apartment.
Spike stood up straighter, retrieved his beer from the counter where Xander had placed it, then looked the boy in the eye, saying with absolutely calm, “I’m gonna finish my beer.” He took a sip. “Then, I’m gonna slide my hands into your hair, pull you to me, ravage your mouth with my tongue and teeth until you’re beggin’ me to do something, anything, you don’t know what. Then I’m gonna undress you, running my tongue over every. Single. Inch. Of your impossibly delightful flesh. I’ll make you scream my name in frustration. Then I’m gonna lead you to that fortress you call a bedroom, toss you on the bed and fuck you till you don’t know anything but me.” He took another sip of beer and walked calmly into the living room, leaving Xander standing in dazed silence.
Spike sat on the couch and measured just how long it would take him to finish his beer. Looking at the bottle, he decided that five minutes would be good enough, and he proceeded to take slow, lingering sips. He heard Xander take a deep breath and smiled around the bottle. When footsteps indicated that Xander was returning to the living room, he picked up the remote and flipped through the channels.
Xander stared at the beer bottle as Spike surfed through the channels. With every languid sip, he measured how much longer he’d have to wait. Until he didn’t have to wait any more.
Spike took the last sip of his beer. He looked deeply into the brown longneck, then made a show of placing the empty container on the coffee table between his propped feet. He lowered his feet and turned to Xander. Finding him wide eyed, and smelling of rampant arousal, Spike grinned.
“Now, Pet. Where did I say I was gonna start?”
TBC
Chapter 7
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