Spike had died that very day. Despite the heroic fashion in which Buffy and the others had carried him home, even though she had covered him with her mother's finest sheets, the vampire wasn't able to pull though. Offerings of warm pig's blood and gentle shakes from the Summers' women hadn't been enough to prevent Spike from disintegrating into shards of dust.
Six months ago, William the Bloody had met his match. A hundred and twenty-seven years of existence were snuffed out in a matter of moments. All of it had been for the sake of the Slayer's kid sister, not to mention the rest of the world.
Since then, things around Sunnydale had all but gotten quieter. For one thing, the vamp population was steadily growing without Hostile 17 around to do away with many of them. A new group of intelligent and powerful demons had rolled into town as well, motivating the Scoobies to reluctantly reactivate the Buffybot.
After six months of struggling against new and relentless odds, Buffy had finally come to a decision. Whether she got help from her friends or not, the Slayer planned on making an attempt at resurrecting their leather-clad hero. No one in the group had protested much, apparently seeing where she was coming from.
"Are you sure you want him back again? You know, with his whole 'we belong together' routine?" Xander had asked, indifferent as to whether they got him back or not, but unable to deny the strong points Buffy had brought up in Spike's favour.
"Are you prepared to work through the consequences of bringing him back from what is surely a Hell dimension? Angel was gone only a few months, and he was quite… insane upon return" Giles had offered his educated opinion, wanting to support the needs of his Slayer, able to admit to himself that Spike's help was needed in more ways than one.
"Well, I'm not even sure it would work, Buffy. Six months is a long time; Spike's life energy might be out of reach by now" Tara and Willow had contributed truthfully, speaking on their area of expertise.
"I miss him" was all Dawn had said. Curled up, head in her knees, auburn strands of hair had cascaded against her back and around her arms. The vampire they spoke of had been almost like a brother to her, and had been willing to sacrifice himself for her sake in spite of a Hell God's form of torture. Bruised and broken, he had remained silent through the ordeal, never admitting to Glory where the true Key could be found.
In the end, no one had been able to argue with Buffy's resolve. Not surprisingly, she had even been able to convince Willow and Tara into helping her with contacting the Powers That Be… surely the only ones who could help her with such an ordeal. Getting there was half the battle though; Buffy didn't doubt that the Powers wouldn't just give her Spike back. This was surely going to be one of those things that was easier said than done.
"Ready?" Willow said, taking a deep breath.
"Ready" came the answer from Buffy, quickly followed by an affirmative answer from Tara. Sitting in a circle on the floor of Buffy's room around an assortment of conjuring herbs and candles of various colours, the three women took each other's hands. Willow had been the one to suggest they perform the ritual in Buffy's room; being in a place that was personal to the Slayer might help as a needed anchor to earth's dimension. Each woman took a deep breath, hoping to clear their minds of any infectious thoughts. Willow began chanting, Tara silently prayed, and Buffy sat quietly, allowing her thoughts to focus only on contacting the Powers That Be, and occasionally on Spike. Both subjects of thought, Tara had said, would be helpful in getting the Powers' attention.
Hell. The word itself was a curse. In such a dimension, fire was like air; it consumed everything and was something that could never be escaped. Agonized screams erupted from the damned souls, so raw and desperate that they were able to pierce the consuming flames. Pain was inflicted on a daily basis for hours at a time, the physical sensation so terrible that it could never be described using the simplistic vocabulary of a human.
And Spike was condemned to such an environment for eternity.
Hanging by a pair of shackles suspended above his head, feet unable to touch any surface, Spike's naked form was at the disposal of whatever Hell beast was assigned to torture him. There were no limits to the damage that could be done to him… charring his skin, amputating a limb in the most horrid ways possible, slicing into his flesh with white-hot blades, or playing mental games with the vampire were all reasonable forms of torture.
Animalistic screams roared out of Spike's throat as the demons began peeling off a fifth layer of skin. From the demon's point of view, William the Bloody was yet another work of mutilated art. The arms hanging above his head were charred, having been slowly cooked, blistered, and burned until the flesh was black. Knives had sliced and sawed their way into Spike's legs, shards of glass pushed into the wounds, causing waterfalls of crimson to cascade down his limbs. The flesh on his back had been treated this way as well, only the lesions were stuffed with white-hot rods of metal rather than fragments of glass. Finally, of course, was the vampire's chest, each layer of skin hanging from his stomach like sheets of paper. Such injuries occurred on a daily basis for Spike, their damage sometimes able to make his current condition appear laughable.
Having peeled off the final layer of flesh from Spike's mangled body, the demon was now exposed to his muscular interior. Taking a firm hold on the muscle lining the left portion of Spike's chest, the monster began to pull at the sinewy fabric, soliciting blood-curdling screams from the vampire yet again. Shredding the blonde creature's muscle with its clawed hand, it wasn't long until the creature was staring at a seemingly dead and quite vulnerable heart.
A wide grin painted itself across the fiend's yellow-fleshed face as it conjured a wooden stake, the weapon appearing where there had been only flames a moment before. "You want it, don't you, vampire?" the creature seethed, speaking in its incomprehensible native tongue. Then again, it didn't matter what language the thing used… Spike wouldn't have understood anyway. After what already felt like an eternity in Hell, the vampire had been unable to hold on to his sense of self, losing every shard of humanity that he once possessed. Only screams and growls could be formed by his permanently scarred vocal chords, his thoughts consisting of instinctive impulses rather than words and emotion. According to himself, Spike didn't even have a name.
Chuckling slightly as the only response he was given was a hating look from a pair of cerulean orbs, the demon nodded, raising his oversized splinter to the crater in Spike's chest. "Then you may have it, vampire filth," he said, pressing his stake against the ruby jewel that was once a purely human heart. Wood and organ flesh became one as Satan's henchman drove the needle through Spike's heart, watching as his mutilated form disintegrated into nothing more than a pile of ashes.
Every day, the same dusty ending came to a torture that would last forever.
Only moments after dissolving into ashen remains, Spike was jolted to consciousness by the shock of having a cool, moist liquid dribbled over his mangled chest. Staring straight up, the vampire appeared to be lying face up, his back resting on a rather cushioned surface, surrounded by the same black void he had once started out in. Suffering in the midst of a firestorm only moments earlier, the cool liquid had been an unwelcome shock.
Tensing suddenly, gasps escaping from his lungs at a hurried pace as he was swathed in the fluid once again, Spike didn't understand what was going on. Eyes flickering frantically to his right, the vampire was stunned when he came face to face with the most radiant object his azure orbs had ever grazed.
Female of course, lengths of blonde hair tickled her porcelain visage, ending in a cascade that surrounded petite shoulders. Emerald eyes that not even the stars could compete with pierced Spike's raging crystals, a tenderness in them that was otherwise alien to the vampire. Those features were only the beginning of what made Spike's heart shift from its usually crazed state to a calmed ocean of peace. Now he remembered this creature. It was his angel… the one who came to him after his daily execution… the one who could tame the raging catacombs of his visceral mind and heart.
Buffy was sitting there, surrounded by a blackness that only made the glow of her skin more apparent. Ivory lengths of fabric wrapped around her curves in a modest fashion, their hue almost matching the creamy sheets of the bed she was currently sharing with Spike. Kneeling close to the vampire, Buffy was accompanied by a glass bowl filled almost to the brim with water.
Muscles clenching furiously as another waterfall cascaded out of his angel's yellow sponge, the vampire couldn't tell if he was supposed to be feeling pain or pleasure. The nerve endings on his stomach and chest were sending him mixed signals. One moment, they cried out in bliss, having never experienced such a wonderful sensation. Only seconds later though, the pain was almost unbearable.
"Shhh…" came Buffy's honey-coated voice as she saw the vampire tighten. That alone was enough to calm Spike, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily. But the Slayer wanted to offer him just a bit more. Reaching out as she reloaded her sponge with supernatural hydrogen, Buffy let her vampire patient take a firm hold on her hand, knowing he could perhaps use the physical contact as another form of comfort.
Rugged flesh made contact with creamy skin, and Spike could only vaguely remember the time he had felt so secure. In all reality, his last session with the Slayer had been only a day ago, but it seemed like an eternity. Spike sighed against the pillow he was suddenly aware of, completely at ease in the company of his angel.
A voice as gentle as the wind was there when his muscles flexed, not expecting the puddle of liquid that came his way; gentle pressure was returned to his clenching hand when the icy fluid again surprised him. Most blatant of course was the mystical water itself; although its appearance was surprising to his skin at first contact, Spike had come to realise and appreciate its healing powers.
Between the highly cushioned bed, the presence of his guardian, and her healing potion, Spike knew somewhere in his mind that he had been offered just a small slice of Heaven.
Perhaps an hour later, the healing process had come to what Buffy saw as a perfect finish. Every wound on her patient's body had been healed by the caress of her tonic against his skin. Throwing her bowl over the bed, casting it into oblivion, Buffy knew it was impossible for the glass container to shatter on a floor that didn't exist.
Spike was lying on his stomach at the moment, but after carefully shifting herself and the vampire, it wasn't long before Buffy was sitting against the wooden headboard, the upper half of Spike's still naked body resting in her lap as he lay on his right side. Gently stroking back his sweat-moistened hair, Buffy's hands roamed to the other reachable regions on his body, occasionally making time to plant a kiss on the top of his lightning-hued cranium.
During the time spent in his saviour's lap, Spike's eyes remained shielded from the nothingness that surrounded him. Though his body shivered, used to the magma-heated temperatures of Hell, the vampire maintained his feeling of complete relaxation. If his heart needed to beat, it would contract no more than fifty times a minute in such a state. Taking in Buffy's scent, causing unneeded breaths each time, the vampire would be perfectly content to remain in such a void for all eternity.
Sadly though, all good things were created to die.
From a far off region, chains could now be heard slinking toward the blonde pair of beings, each of them having been totally at ease only a moment before. Metal sliced and screamed into itself, and though the sounds were mere echoes for now, Buffy knew it didn't take long for them to find him. Time was of the essence.
Vampire hearing had already picked up the wretched sounds, causing every one of Spike's now healed muscles to tense immediately. In a world of such peace, even his broken mind could understand that such a distasteful clamour could not be a good thing. Curling deeper into his angel's lap, Spike's grip on her right hand tightened, his other limb holding her by the waist.
"Shh… it's okay Spike. It's okay… I'm here… I'm here… Shhh" her words trickled into his ears, the once sugary sound now slightly frightened. Buffy draped herself over the portion of his body that was in her lap, the Slayer's powerful left arm holding him around the front of his waist, very similar to the death grip he had on her. Gently, she rocked Spike back and forth on the bed's cushioned surface, attempting to drown out the horrid sounds that were constantly drawing nearer.
Hearing Spike give what could surely be classified as a terrified whimper, his form pressing farther into her, the Slayer continued her verbal assurance. "It's all right, Spike, it's okay…" she said, pausing to kiss the patch of his skin that was most readily available. "I'm here Spike… everything will be okay… I'll always be here for you Spike… I'll always be here to make things right…" her voice still soft, Buffy pulled out of the embrace enough to see his face.
Tears had welled at the edge of Spike's eyes, the vampire terrified of the reverberations that were quickly becoming deafening. Elbow resting against the upper half of his arm, Buffy smoothed the left side of Spike's already slick hair, bending closer to press a kiss against his temple and cheek. Leaning her right cheek against his left one, the Slayer simply remained in that position, the arm that was not used to hold his hand now clasped around the vampire's shoulders. The tempo of their rocking motion refused to alter despite all of Buffy's motions, and her comforting words never took a break.
It wasn't long before the somewhat calm bubble of the spontaneously created bed was viciously deflated. Feeling Spike jolt beneath her, Buffy knew that some hideous creature had no doubt grabbed his legs. The presence of his form deflated beneath her, and Buffy quickly looked up, watching as Spike was towed, kicking and screaming into a pair of now gaping metal gates that lead to the dimension that truly owned him. Clawing at dead air, his throat already becoming raw from screaming, the last thing Spike saw before being surrounded by flames was the face of his saviour, her eyes filled with remorse.
Within seconds, the Slayer was completely alone on a bed in the middle of nowhere, knowing that the next time she came in contact with Spike, he would again be unaware of who she was, his mind easily destroyed by hours of ruthless torture. Burned into the back of Buffy's mind was the utterly terrified expression that Spike pierced her with every day as he was dragged away from her by some fire-fisted demon. Someday… Buffy thought as she heard the metal fortress finally close before her …Someday I'll save him. Someday I'll be able to stop those creatures. Someday, Spike will be free…
Ahh! I know! Evil, EVIL cliffhanger! Honestly, I would have really liked to continue this chapter, but I'm not sure just yet how long Buffy's encounter with the Powers will be, which means that this chapter could go from being nearly four pages long to six or eight pages long. Anyways, as always, I LOVE reviews, so send 'em my way hehehe (please and thank you). I promise that the next update won't take as long this time! (I've already got chapter five half done… so you do the math hehe)
I'd just like to take a second and say a huge thank you to my beta reader, Renee. You're the bestest!
