The Ghost's Curse

Chapter Twelve


"So, what, is that it?" Spike asked. The girl was alive, sure—she was breathing. But she didn't seem to be moving a whole lot. "That's all you could do?"

Rider narrowed her eyes. "Yes. That's it. I already told you, I can't bring back the dead. Not really. Your girlfriend seemed pretty sure I could, but I don't think it's worked. Look at her! Does she look alive to you?"

She looked at the girl before her, lying so still. She looked asleep, but Rider knew this was more than mere sleep. She was dead. Yes, Rider had brought life back to her body, but without a spirit to animate it, that life was meaningless. There was nothing Rider could do to make her spirit return to her. Nothing.

"So, this was all bloody pointless, wasn't it?" Spike said. "Hey! Ghost kid! You hear that? We tried, we failed. No more bothering us now." If the ghost could hear him, she gave no indication.

There was a giggle, too close, and Rider whirled around to see Drusilla right behind her. She could feel cool breath on her face as Drusilla laughed.

"It hasn't finished," Drusilla said. "There is more to come."

Rider didn't have a clue what she meant by that. More to come? More of what?

"So, what do we do now?" she asked Drusilla.

"We wait," Drusilla whispered. "Now it's up to her. We have done all that we can, for now. It's her turn."

Rider wasn't sure what they were waiting for, but the idea of it set her teeth on edge. Why had she ever come out here? She shouldn't be here. She should be back in her apartment, safe from the outside world full of vampires and ghosts and goddess knew what else. Back in her apartment, in her own bed, waiting until Damien finally decided to set the whole apartment block on fire. He'd done that once before. Rider had been the only one to get out alive.

Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.

They sat for several hours, Rider and Spike both growing increasingly impatient. Rider sat, and fidgeted, holding her arms around her in a vain attempt to keep warm. Spike moved around, like a predator looking for something to catch and kill. Drusilla just sat, seeming completely unconcerned by the emptiness of the moment. In her stillness, she barely looked alive at all.

The air grew colder. Rider's teeth chattered, and her hair stood on end. She wished she'd brought a coat. She noticed the vampires both looked unconcerned. She guessed they couldn't really sense temperature that much, being dead. Something wet landed on Rider's head. She thought it was snow at first—it seemed cold enough—but it was rain. The rain got stronger, as if the sky was weeping. In mere seconds, all of them were soaked to the bone.

She looked at the girl. Samara was just as wet as they all were. For a moment, Rider wonder if she'd get hypothermia. Then she remembered that it didn't matter—the girl was pretty much dead anyway.

But then Rider saw her eyes open.

It was just for a moment. After that they were closed just as they had been before. Rider thought she might have been imagining it. But Rider didn't imagine things. That was one thing she knew.

The child was alive. Her eyes opened again, and they didn't close this time. She looked around wildly for a moment, before her gaze focused on Drusilla.

"Mommy..." the child whispered.


Samara looked around wildly, trying to find something, anything, that she recognised. Where was she? It looked like a graveyard. But only a minute ago, she'd been... somewhere else. In the dark place. Her only home for years since her death, that she hated more than anything. She didn't know this place. She didn't want to be here. But she didn't know where she wanted to be. Not home—she hadn't had any home apart from the well for a long time. She hadn't had any home.

She wrapped her arms tightly around Drusilla, allowed herself to be picked up. Drusilla would protect her. She knew that. Drusilla wouldn't abandon her like Anna and Rachel had. She'd care about her. She wouldn't get scared of Samara like everyone else always had. No one like her could get scared. She'd be perfect. She'd let Samara have a real life.

"Bloody hell," she heard Spike mutter. "Rider really did it. She brought a ghost back to life."

Spike would help her too, or try. That was what he did. Him and the other one, Angel. Vampires with souls, who helped people. How strange. Everyone knew who they were, even Samara. At least, she had known since Spike had watched the tape. She knew a lot about them now. Knew about what they were, who they used to be. They could help her. They could help her be better.

"I can't believe it..." Rider said. Samara turned towards her, and Rider looked away quickly. Samara didn't need Rider any more. Maybe she should kill her. Or maybe she didn't need to. That was why she was here, wasn't it? She wanted to stop killing. To live how people were supposed to live. That was what she wanted.

Samara had found Drusilla to help her because she wanted to live again. She didn't want to pretend, like she had last time when she had stolen Aidan's body. She wanted to live, really live. She wanted the life that she should never have lost. She wanted to stop needing to hurt everyone. She was sure it couldn't be too hard; everyone else managed. Even Spike, and he was a vampire. Even his friend Angel, who had been even worse. She could do it. And she could start by not killing Rider now. Letting her go.

"Are we gonna go back now? I don't much care for standing in the rain getting drenched all night!" Spike called out.

Drusilla put Samara down, and they started walking back. Samara held tight to Drusilla's hand. Was this real? It felt too much like a dream. Something that she could wake up from at any moment. But Samara knew this was no dream; she never slept. How could she dream? Everything she felt right now, all of this was real. It was perfect. She had someone who wanted to protect her, someone to keep her safe. That was something she'd always needed, but had hardly ever got.


Spike kicked his boots off as he entered the cabin and flopped down on the bed, exhausted and drenched. Well, the impossible had happened—Rider had brought a dead girl back to life. The witch was gone now, back to LA, he thought. He almost envied her. Drusilla was in the next room, Samara with her. If he was honest with himself, Spike wasn't sure what to think of the spell working. Was it really a good idea to bring a psychopathic, murderous ghost back from the dead? Screw that, was it really a good idea to let Drusilla take care of a child?

Dru had tried to take care of things before. Flowers, birds, puppies, rats, kittens, even human children... every time she had failed. She'd forgotten to feed them—forgotten they needed feeding. Sometimes she'd ended up killing them, slitting their throats when she grew bored. Spike wondered what would happen if Dru ended up killing Samara. Would she become a ghost again? If so, would she try to hurt Dru? Spike couldn't let that happen. But what could he do, to save her from a ghost? Even if this ghost's curse did seem to have rules, it didn't mean she couldn't break them.

They'd got back tomorrow, to Angel and the hotel. Spike would be glad to get out of this place. He had no psychic ability whatsoever, far as he knew, but even he could feel the hate and the pain that stained this place like dried-up blood. Even Sunnydale didn't feel as evil as this place did, and that was a bloody Hellmouth. Spike didn't even want to think about what could have happened here. What that girl had done, all without meaning to... If she could drive people insane by accident, what could that kid do on purpose? Spike didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

He shouldn't have let Dru do this. He just hadn't thought that it could possibly succeed. He thought it would be harmless, and when it failed, Drusilla would be upset, and he would comfort her... but it couldn't be like that. It couldn't possibly be like that anymore. Dru wouldn't just be upset, she'd be murderous. She'd kill Rider. And after that... Spike wasn't sure what he'd think. He didn't care about Rider—not any more than he cared about any random person. But Dru... no one could ever mean as much to him as Drusilla once had. Not even Buffy, though she did come pretty damn close. What would he do? He thought about what Angel had said to him, about Drusilla staying with them. And now they had another killer with them—Samara. What could they do now, really? Spike knew they shouldn't just keep them around, but he couldn't think of anything else that would work.

He finally managed to get to sleep. To his relief, for the first time in over a week, he didn't dream.