To Suffocate in Sand and Blood
By Nos



Summary: There is more than one way to drown. S/B



Rating: R for now


Authors Notes: I know I promised a sequel to When Darkness Falls. And I
know I am not finished with Leashing yet (at the moment I am writing this).
But, when an idea grabs you, there is nothing you can do but write it. I
will write this and Leashing at the same time. But I had to write this, as
soon as possible. Just one of those things. One more thing, I know everyone
is doing the "Post Grave" fic. Myself, I haven't read very many of them,
but I am trying to do something a little different here. Poetry used in
this chapter from e e cummings' 'What if a Much of a Which of a Wind'.
Poetry used in prologue by Arthur Rimbaud.

Many thanks to: To fleisch of course, for beta'ing. And to cousinjean and Nautibits. And everyone at TWoP and Crumbling Walls.





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Prologue: Perish
***********************************************************************



"I have called for executioners; I want to perish chewing on their gun
butts. I have called for plagues, to suffocate in sand and blood.
Unhappiness has been my god. I have lain down in the mud, and dried myself
off in the crime-infested air. I have played the fool to the point of
madness..."
-Arthur Rimbaud



He had once said that pain can be a highly powerful motivator.


It can shape your thoughts, bend your will, break you. And Spike had known
pain in his existence. You could say that pain was his shadow, always
there, hiding, waiting. He'd often wondered what an existence without pain
would be. If living would have shaped him in the same ways, sharpened his
edges. Probably not. But was he going to thank it for making him this
way?


Hell, no.


Pain had always driven him on, however. Pain drove him into the arms of
Drusilla as a mortal man, and greeted him when he awoke, gasping for air he
no longer needed. Dru's pain had driven him to Sunnydale in the first
place, desperate for a cure. It had made him flee Sunnydale in the end,
struggling to mend the rift between him and his lover. And like a moth to a
flame, it drew him back, before forcing him away again, twice now. But
oddly, it was becoming a deterrent. Pain had kept him from killing for
nearly four years now. And not just the chip-induced migraines. Even he
understood now that something else had held him back. In the beginning, it
might have been purely the chip. But quickly, it became something more
noble, he might hope. Love is the most noble force in the universe. Right?


And the most powerful.


If you looked at all the times pain moved him, you would see it wasn't the
only thing that drove him. Love was always there, in some form or another.
Whether it was healing Dru or keeping his mouth shut under Glory's probing
finger. It was love, just love, that had driven him from Sunnydale this
final time.


And so here he was, sharp stone stabbing his bare back, sand working its way
into the cuts, as he scrambled frantically to avoid some sort of demon
intent on burning him to a nice crisp with its flaming fists.


Local Boy kicked him in the side, hard, and he rolled with it, using the
momentum to find his footing again. The demon followed, relentless, sending
blow after blow to the very flammable vampire's exposed flesh. He couldn't
even block without getting wounded, and this was gonna get old, real fast.


Another blow sent him crashing into the wall, stars exploding behind his
eyes from the direct hit. He slid to his knees, the rough stone abrading
his back, and the demon paused, toying with him, allowing him to stumble
back to his feet. He drew himself up, and gave his opponent a bloody smirk.


"Had enough?"


He barely had time to get the taunt out before another fist of flame caught
him in the face, followed by a hard blow to the stomach that left him
gasping in pain. He found himself on his knees again, another deadly punch
screaming for his face. Instinct caught him, and his hand caught the demon's
before he even had time to think. The acrid smell of his own burning
flesh brought him back to the present.


"Ow!" He pushed the fist away, his strength causing the demon to
stagger back slightly. He shook his hand quickly, attempting to cool the
blistering skin.


"Bad move, bad move..."


He looked up just in time to see another blow coming. Why was this wanker
always going for the face? He twisted his body, the punch sailing by his
cheek, and grabbed the demon's arm above the wrist. A quick flip, and the
bastard was on the ground. Wasting no time, he brought his bare foot back,
sending it crashing into the demon's balls with enough power to make Spike's
own leg ache.


It didn't bring the much sought shriek of pain, God knows he'd earned it,
but it did cause the demon to roll over in agony, clutching his wounded
parts. Spike took the opportunity, jumping on the thing's back. In only
seconds his hands were around the demon's head, and he jerked with all his
strength, snapping its neck with a satisfying crack.


Nothing left to do, Spike rose up carefully, panting, looking down at his
most recent victim. Only a moment's rest, before he staggered away, watching
the other demon, the one hosting this soiree, step into view.


"Looks like Local Boy loses." Spike said, with what little breath he had
left.


"So it would appear." Lurky responded, glowing green eyes regarding HIS
latest victim.


"Good on me, then." He paused, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.
"So? I get what I came for? I passed, right"


"Indeed. You have passed the first stage of the test."


Spike nodded, more than ready for his reward.


"Right, then I..." He blinked, frowning. "Wait...FIRST stage?"


He hung his head.


"Bugger."







***********************************************************************
Chapter One: Give Truth To The Summer's Lie
***********************************************************************



"What if a much of a which of a wind
gives truth to the summer's lie;
bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun,
and yanks immortal stars awry?
Blow king to beggar and queen to seem
(blow friend to fiend: blow space to time)
-when skies are hanged and oceans drowned,
the single secret will still be man..."
e e cummings





"So, what's next then?" Spike asked, pacing. His body ached, burns still
stinging him, but he forged on. The sooner it was over, the better.


The demon moved, barely coming into the scattered torchlight.


"Patience." The gravely voice responded, its long thin tail curling
outward toward the room.


Spike eyed the tail dubiously.


"Just bloody get on with it, will ya? Bring on the nasties."


The tip of the demon's tail touched the ground at Spike's feet.


"Sit." It commanded.


Spike frowned, stopping mid-pace.


"I don't need a rest, mate, much as I appreciate the offer. Let's just get
on with the next bleedin' trial!"


"Patience is the next trial. Sit." The tail tip tapped the ground.


Spike shrugged, and did as he was told, wincing slightly as he crossed
his legs.


The tail moved, dragging the ground, drawing a perfect circle in the sand
surrounding him.


"So...What's the rules?" Spike asked, shifting, resting his hands on his
knees.


"Disturb the circle, or speak, and you fail."


Spike eyed the circle, less than two inches from where his knees crossed.
Simple enough, yeah? He'd lied before, he did need to rest. Though sitting
as he was wouldn't afford much respite, at least it was a chance to regroup, catch
his breath, so to speak.


He breathed in slow, even tones, closing his eyes. Easy, he repeated to
himself, one of his fingers twitching. Bugger that, he knew he'd never been any
good at the waiting around. He could already feel the need to do SOMETHING
burning through his veins, making his muscles twitch. Buck up, mate, he
thought. It's only been three minites. Grow a bloody pair already.


It started to get hotter, the air thicker. Claustrophobia clawed at him,
the feeling that the space around him was enclosed scant inches from his
skin. Panicked, he snapped his eyes open, to find the cave unchanged.


Driving yourself 'round the bend...


He breathed again, noticed the air had a spicy tang to it. He let the
scent flood his senses, anything to get his mind off the dimming light, and
the fact that his breath was the only sound, seeming absurdly loud, echoing
off the cavern walls.


When that didn't work, he started to get nervous again. His eyes darted
around the rapidly darkening room. A sound, almost a whisper, sounded to
his right. He jerked, shifting his eyes that way, seeing nothing but
overwhelming darkness that even his preternatural sight couldn't breach.


Resisting the urge to call out, he turned his eyes slowly back to the
front. Maybe not slowly enough, disorientation causing his head to spin,
turning his stomach.


Suddenly, the metallic ring of metal on metal came to him. He strained his
eyes, trying to sort through what appeared to be shadows moving in the
darkness. A scuffle, then feet moving, kicking up dirt. He twitched
again.


"Spike!" A voice screamed, fear pulsing through the sound. It nearly
pulled him from his circle, and he fought for control. He squeezed his eyes
shut. It's not really her, it's not really her...


When the noise stopped, he peeked his eyes open again, choking at what he
saw. Before him, the nightscape of Sunnydale, as viewed from 20-plus
stories in the air, thousands of tiny twinkling lights, all blissfully
unaware of what was going on above them. The narrow plankwalk of metal,
stretching out a path to where Doc stood, holding a knife close to the
sobbing Dawn.


"Spike!" She screamed again, begging this time. Doc finally turned to
regard him, his eyes filling with disdain.


"Why do you even care?" He asked, tilting his head, as if Spike were some
strange bug to be studied, or crushed.


He clenched his jaw, fists balling in the fabric of his jeans. So Lurky
thought he could mind fuck him eh? He knew this wasn't real. But the urge
to run out and protect his Bit was strong nonetheless.


Doc shrugged when he didn't respond, and turned back.


"Shallow cuts....Shallow cuts..." his 'Mr-Rogers-gone-bad' voice chanted
softly, and Dawn screamed.


Spike's fingernails cut into the palms of his hands, and he shut his eyes
again, struggling to control his breathing.


"You killed her, Spike!" Dawn's voice cried. "She had to jump because YOU
weren't good enough!"


Then stillness. Blessed stillness.


Please be over, please be over...


A bright flash of light forced his eyes open again, the strobing making him
dizzy.


Images flashed in quick succession: Dawn's bloodied corpse lying in
twisted metal wreckage, Buffy's replacing it, Tara's throat ripped open,
blood pouring from her silently screaming mouth, Willow stripped naked, her
flesh seared from her bones, Xander's heart's blood pouring from a wound in
his chest, Giles's head twisted clean off his body, Joyce lying crookedly
on a red surface, pale skin and eyes open, Buffy a vampire, Dawn a
vampire, Willow a vampire....


I always thought she'd make an excellent demon.


All fantasies he'd had, at one point or another, during his life in
Sunnydale. The sight sickened him now, as the urge to flee warred with the
ongoing mantra of "This isn't real.." pouring through his mind.


One last flash and darkness again.


He was panting now.


The quiet sound of sobbing came through this time, followed by a muted
thump. The darkness exploded into harsh fluorescent light, blotting out the
darkness painfully, making his eyes ache. The sobbing continued, though all
he could see was white.


"Spike, no, please no..." the voice cried, and he slammed his eyes shut,
his entire body tensing, jaw creaking. Fuck. Very clever.


The scene replayed itself in his mind, the brightness of the room and his
own crazed emotions muting the details. His own dark form hovering over
her, pulling violently, pushing, making her shake and shudder under him. He
had attacked her as a man, and she'd responded as a woman, until he forced
the Slayer out of her, ending his assault.


Tears poured down his cheeks. It was so goddamned bright...


And he'd dimmed her by touching that light. His blackness had rubbed off
on her, gray as the robe she was wearing.


Still, he didn't flee. He had to be strong, if only to right this wrong
he'd committed. For her. For everything.


Give her what she deserves. Never to be faced with that again.


The light vanished, and he prepared for the next onslaught, muscles
clenched.


"You have passed the second trial, vampire."


Spike collapsed on his side, panting, sucking in sand from the cavern
floor.