I've never kissed a sweeter mouth I have never been swept away It's what dreams are made up of Don't you know I could not survive Without you in my life I would die for you I would die for you - Jann Arden I crawl on trembling knees to the end of the truck, attempting not to disturb sleeping people on either side of me. Snow falls thickly in a white haze outside. Sticking my head out the canvas flap, I catch some on my tongue and feel it slide wetly down my hot tongue. The water in the thermos Bronwen brought is thin and brackish. I need something natural. Opening my mouth, the snow gathers light as clouds between my teeth, against my lips, and I smile, feeling my nose smart from the cold and my eyelids blink as they are covered in puffs of white. When we'd visit our Grandparents in Minnesota when we were little, Dawnie and I used to make forts and snow angels. I remember our laughter and red noses and the way Mom would gather us up with hot chocolate afterward. My Aunt Laura would read us stories and I'd be trying to elbow Dawn out of the way to see the pictures better. A cramp somewhere along my breastbone startles me from the memories. My little sister. Tears burn my eyes. She's gone forever. God, I hate this world. “What in the fuck are you doing, Slayer?” a hiss next to my ear doesn't surprise me. “Enjoying the weather, Spike,” I snap back. “What does it look like?” “It looks like you're trying to catch your death of cold,” he mutters, hauling me back inside the moldy canvas with firm fingers. “You're such a woman,” I grouse, and edge my way back to where Dawn is lying, still asleep. Staring at her for a moment, I sit down and draw her carefully onto my lap, stroking her hair. There. I can pretend she's still Dawnie- not a monster who drinks from Spike's veins. Her hair slips silkily through my fingers. Spike lowers himself next to me and is silent for a moment. “We'll be there soon, I'd imagine, luv. You ready?” “Ready as I'll ever be,” I answer calmly. “You do realize—“ he pauses. “If we can't save him that we'll have to leave and—“ “We're going to save him, Spike,” I reply without any inflection in my tone. “I won't accept any less.” “You might have to.” “No,” I say firmly, and breathe out slowly. “Don't even talk to me about that. We're going to save him. We're going to go back to London, and then we're going to come up with a plan to kick their asses. After said plan succeeds, Angel and I are going to live happily ever fucking after, and if I hear ONE more word out of you about giving up I will stake you so fast you won't know what hit you. Ok, Spike?” He glances at me and murmurs sardonically, “Is that the last big speech I'm gonna have to hear, Slayer?” “If you're lucky you might get more,” I smirk and suddenly I hear Bronwen's shout from way up front in the driver's seat- “We're on the outskirts! We'll be stopping at our safehouse here- for any victims we rescue- to get suited up and organize teams and weapons.” I hear her sigh in exasperation. “So WAKE UP!!” Everyone jerks, groaning as they open their eyes and glare balefully in Bronwen's general direction. I can't blame them. My muscles ache and it's freezing in here, and we've got a long night ahead of us. (Didn't you always want someone who could make the sun go down?) I'm coming, Angel… I think, rubbing my throbbing temples. I'm going to save you. Pressing my face into the canvas sides, I touch Dawn's forehead and smooth the slight lines of worry around her eyes. If there was some way, I'd save both of them. ~~~ The safehouse is large, warm, yet bare. Cots line the walls, and fireplaces are set into every available space. The smell of soot and burning wood fills my nostrils and I breathe in, glancing at all the groups of people sitting, talking, most with dead eyes and yet strangely calm hands. Mine twitch- have ever since I woke up in that gutter. “Who are these people?” I whisper to Bronwen. She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “People who have been saved from the camps here. It's too risky to move them into the City at this point- without the necessary manpower. So they stay here. We're nicely nestled in the hills- and so far the demons don't know of the existence of this place. We have them everywhere, of course.” “Could—“ I pause. “Could my friends be here?” She blinks and runs a careful hand through her blue-black hair. “I wouldn't think so, Buffy. As far as we know, your friends- should they still be alive- would be in a camp in Wales. The Welsh demons are a particularly fierce lot, and usually any—any of the Slayer's friends or helpers are taken there.” “Oh,” I reply, sorry I asked. “Well… I'm going to go get ready.” “Certainly,” Bronwen touches my back lightly. “Just take the stairs to the upper floors. You'll find a bathtub- a bed, weapons and clothes. Plus, a little food. We'll be leaving in approximately 6 hours. Try and get some rest, Buffy.” “I will,” I nod and turn back slightly. “And Bronwen?” “Yes?” “Thanks.” ~~~ There's a bath waiting for me, and I slip into it up over my head, the hot water enveloping my body in sweet heat. My hair drifts around my face in golden swirls and I think of Angel, wishing I could take him right now – I know he must be cold- I can almost feel it- and hold him and make him warm again. Forever. Lathering myself with soap, I ignore the tears on my face and dunk under the water one last time. I nibble on the food as I sit on the bed, examining the weapons Bronwen had them leave for me. I'm hoping I won't have to use them much. I just want to get in and get out. “Knock knock.” I don't look up. “Spike- you do realize you're hugely annoying, right?” I can almost hear his smirk. “Don't get those cute little knickers you wear in a knot, Slayer. Just came to see what's the what. Ol' Bronwen won't even go near me- much less fill me in.” “Why won't Bronwen go near you?” I question, as he strolls around the side of the bed and leans against the wall near the tub. “I rubbed a bit of dirt off her neck. The bitch thought I was gonna bite her.” “Why ever would she think that?” I murmur, smoothing my hands over a long, sleek blaster, it's shiny silver flanks entrancing me. “I mean, silly girl. It's not like you're a vampire- oh wait.” “I'm a reformed vampire,” he smirks and reaches down to swish his hand through the bathwater. “And I'm just a normal little girl,” I answer witheringly. “You're certainly little,” he says softly, and I glance up at him, noticing with dread the way his eyes have gone soft and sort of blurry. Shaking my head, I get up and turn away. “Don't do this, Spike.” “Don't do what, blondie?” “Don't make… don't make this confusing.” “Isn't it already confusing, you stupid chit?” he growls. “Here I am, de-chipped- not even tryin' to kill you. Here you are, shaking like a bloody leaf in that—that *thing* you're wearing. Things between us are already confusing.” I feel his hands on my upper arms. His chest presses into my back. Slowly, his fingers slide down to my waist, and he exerts a firm pressure on my belly. “Slayer…” he hisses in my ear, and his tongue flicks against my neck. I don't move for a moment, feeling nothing. Feeling like if I wanted to, I could spin around and maybe get lost for a moment in someone who I don't love- who I just want- and maybe… things could be less loud. Things could be… better- because without Angel, I feel like I'm slowly dying once more and— His thumbs brush my nipples and I see a flash of Angel behind my eyelids. “Stop it,” I say firmly, jerking away from him. “This isn't…” “Isn't what?” he asks bitterly. “Real? I could give you—I could give you something Angelus can't, Slayer. I could give you—the peace.” “I don't want the peace,” I reply coldly. “And if you think I'd be the type to let you fuck me and bite me, then you're even more crazy than I thought.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me, bringing me hard against his body. “Why not? You let him, didn't you? Or is that a puppy's bite on your neck, Slayer?” My fist connects with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Flying back against the wall, he holds the shattered cartilage with his hand and howls, “Bloody hell, you bitch! That hurt!” “I thought you would enjoy that,” I sneer. “After all- don't vampires love pain?” “I dunno,” he growls. “Did Angelus used to beg you just to hurt me just a little bit more?” “All the time,” I haul him towards the door. “I fucked him until his eyes rolled back in his head. But you'll never know what that feels like, Spike. Get. Out.” Shutting the door in his face, I breathe out, trying to calm down as I draw off my robe and slip between the heavy sheets and blankets, pillowing my head amidst the cushions thrown haphazardly at the head of the bed and closing my eyes. I blink back the tears and slowly let my mind drift into oblivion. ~~~ I shiver as I climb the steps to Angel Investigations. It looks the same as it did the last time I came- so long ago- for those brief moments of pain. The offices are empty. The elevator down to Angel's apartment is rickety. It makes a whooshing sound as I travel down, down, down, alighting into the dimness. “Angel?” I call softly. It smells of him in here. But it also… smells of fire and smoke, of soot and ash and fallen dreams. Of crumbled buildings and death and fear. I step cautiously in the shadows and finally see him, standing near the bed, his hand absently touching the covers. They look oddly familiar. I think I would know what they feel like before I even touch them- but that's impossible. “Angel?” He doesn't turn. “Hey.” “Did you pick the location this time?” I ask and he shakes his head. “You did. This place… is gone to me. I wouldn't have chosen it.” “Did it burn when they attacked LA?” I inquire quietly. He shakes his head again. “It burned a long time ago.” Finally he twists around and his fingers close around mine. They are icy and tipped with frost. Squeezing them, I whisper; “I'm going to come and get you, baby. Can you hold on a little bit longer?” “As long as it takes,” he smiles slightly, and draws me forward, into his embrace. “You're shaking.” “So are you,” I murmur, and reach up to clasp his cheeks. “Kiss me?” His lips taste like anguish and metal, like blood and the night. Desperately, I press closer and feel his mouth slide down my neck, his teeth pulling at my flesh. His hands cup my breasts and I feel the wetness on my inner thighs, little kisses reminding me that I want him- inside. I pull him down on the bed and he laughs slightly, a little tenderly, a little harshly. “What?” I pant. “Nothing,” he answers huskily. “Just… memories.” “Wha—“ he cuts me off with his insistent lips and his fingers under my clothes, pulling them hastily from my flesh. My hands tear at the buttons of his shirt and pants, wrenching them open so I can crush my breasts against the bare skin of his chest. He moans into my mouth, his tongue swirling over my nipples as he hooks his thumbs into my panties and slips them down to my feet. I kick them off and scream as he slams into me with all the force of a thousand suns. “Angel—“ I gasp, my throat gasping for air as he fills me so full I think I'm going to explode. “Please---“ “Please what?” he groans and shudders, his thighs jerking against mine. “Please—make me—fall—“ His fangs pierce my neck in the next second and I try to make a sound but nothing comes out. I feel as if my head is expanding, and my insides are swelling, wet, like ripe fruit. Blood seeps past his teeth and down my breasts, dripping thickly through my hair. Eyes bright as lemon yellow skies gaze into mine. Nuzzling the open wound, he grates, “You killed me first, sweetheart. Now it's your turn.” “Angel? What's happening?” His face dissolves into nothingness. “Close your eyes.” I see no more- it's just another dream. (You become me) (What we could've had? What we had?) (Not even death… ) (You think you know?) ~~~~~ A tapping on the door wakes me. Something drips in my eyes and for a moment I think it's blood, but it's sweat. Ice cold. Rubbing my forehead, I get up, tugging on my robe and pulling open the door warily. “Oh,” I say. “Hi.” Arion Prentiss nods to me, motioning with his hand. “Can I come in, Ms. Summers?” “Sure,” I reply, letting him pass me. He knots his hands together, looking at me as I close the door, crossing my arms against my chest. “What can I do for you?” “You told me- that you had been having dreams of the raven. Was that true, Ms. Summers?” I shrug, a chill sweeping down my spine. “I thought they were just dreams.” “Dreams are never 'just'. Especially not the Slayer's. Your dreams are prophecies. The raven… it represents your origins. The Slayer comes from the Morrigan- do you know who that is?” “No,” I answer. “It's been about five years since I took any sort of class, whatsoever. I'm kind of rusty on my ancient history, Mr. Prentiss. You'll have to fill me in.” “Actually, it's more of a mythological figure. The Morrigan is a dark Goddess- her symbol is the raven. The first Slayer- was born not of two human people- but of the blood and feathers of a Morrigan and a raven. Born of the death cry and of the penetrating wound.” My fingers go to my mouth and I stare at him with wide eyes. “That's what—that's what she said to me.” “Who?” he inquires. “The first Slayer. In my dream—I had a dream years ago. All my friends did. The first Slayer was in it—she told me I would always walk alone.” His eyes are grave as he touches a weapon lying on the bed. “The Slayer does not have to walk alone. But often she is forced to. Everyone she loves, she kills. It is the way of this world. A killer is always a killer. Most are too fragile for her. Except for one. He is the only one strong enough to fight with her- not against her or below her.” My whole body is shaking. “You mean Angel.” He looks at me. “What do you think?” “I think you should leave. I can't—I don't have time for this right now.” Arion glances at me seriously. “You can't run away from destiny forever.” “But you can run away from conversations you're too tired for,” I smile wearily. “I realize that you're trying to help—but I have to save my boyfriend right now. I don't have time for origins or destiny or dreams. Can we talk some other time?” He nods. His eyes are intensely black. They make me slightly dizzy- but I think that might be because he knows so much about me. So much I'm not even sure of. “Of course. Good luck… today.” “Thanks. But I don't need it. Never have.” He smiles. “I've heard that about you.” ~~~ Spike walks beside me as we travel through the underground tunnels the Rebels have forged over the years. It's cold, damp and muddy down here. The smell of leather and moss reaches my nose as the vampire beside me takes my arm to lead me down another path. I can barely see. It's too dark. Bronwen carries a small lantern, but she says too much light is a risk so it's just a watery cast over our shadows- not anything substantial to see by. I think we walk for miles before we finally reach the carved opening in the earth, which Bronwen told me comes out of a hill, right above the camp. “Ok. We'll follow you,” she whispers to me. I nod. Spike moves to come with me, but I stop him. “I'm going alone.” “Don't be stupid,” he mutters furiously, but I lay a hand on his arm. “Spike. I'm going alone. Accept that. We'll all be a lot happier if you do.” He scowls. “I'm following you. At a safe distance.” “Fine,” I say with a shake of my head. “I'll see you all when I've got him.” Not looking back, I walk out into the night. next