The Hunt -- part 2 of The Island of Galleno (Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss.)
by Isabelle
Rating: R (for cursing, mild nudity, adult situations and violence)
Disclaimers: BTVS belong to Joss Whedon, ME, and UPN they are being used for entertainment, I don't own them. The Count of Monte Cristo belongs to Alexandre Dumas--Spike's journey was taken from the idea of the book and is used in the skeleton of the Series.
Summary: The moment that Spike finally has Buffy he is vamp-napped by Riley and a new officer, Jack Marshall and sent to the Island of Galleno off the Moroccan coast where all the leftovers of the Initiative are being placed. Buffy frantically looks for Spike but gets news that he was 'accidentally killed' by Jack, who decides to make Sunnydale his residence. The whole thing is Spike trying to get back to Sunnydale and Buffy thinking he's dead. It's filled with exotic places, tons of Original Characters, mysticism, enchantment, magic and love. It takes him years to find out who he is before he can find the one he loves.
Spoilers: Set after Normal Again, Season 6
Feedback: bih80reviews@yahoo.com
Archiving: Carnal Sins, DeathMarkedLove, and Only Time--all others please ask.
A/N: I need adventure so here it is. This is an angsty story. But like Joss said once, trust the story not the storyteller. This is B/S fiction, I write nor read any other. I decided on the no sex rule since we have plenty of Smut to cover the sex part *g* Special thanks to Heller for the Beta.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She stepped lightly to her well known destination. It was weird--when she used to visit him a few weeks ago she could usually feel him around, even if he was around during the day she could feel him. Now she felt nothing... only memories and a vague space. It was disheartening.
That only made her walk faster, quicker, with more purpose.
By the time she got to his crypt she was panting and salty tears rolled down her thinning cheeks--she was sure he was going to wake up and look at her lazily and make a bit of fun of her worrying over him. She didn't care, she needed to make sure he was okay. And with okay she meant, here non-dusty and whole... preferably never coming back to the dark crypt... nothing wrong with endless hours of sex, sex with Spike, Spike of the sex... now she was just confusing herself as she looked around the empty crypt.
"Spike?" she called out.
It was kinda funny, but she knew he wasn't there--she knew it before she said his name. She knew it the second time, the third, and the fourth time she called it out.
She knew it when she ran downstairs and stared at his half burned bedroom, she knew it all along. Without thinking she grabbed the thin blanket he used to go to bed with and stuffed it in her coat. At this moment of panic she could only wish that he'd make fun of her. Just a little joke, was that too much for a panicked girlfriend to ask?
She went to the small bars she knew he hung out at. Even ran into Clem who told her he hadn't seen the vampire for days. No news from the demon world is bad news, she decided.
She was worn out, soon she had too go into her 3 PM shift at the burger joint and she still had no vampire boyfriend.
She idly wondered at the irony of it. When she didn't want to find him he was stuck to her like a leech on a leper, and now that she wanted to find him he was Casper.
Sitting down on a park bench by his cemetery she watched as mothers swung their small children on the swings. It reminded her of a long ago dream when she was real--real as in normal and happy. But the idiotic body mass of peroxide blond hair wasn't there. Somehow... it seemed incomplete. Could she have really gone through her life with out her vampires and her witches, demons, watchers and her very own personalized key? Her world might qualify for Ripley's but it was her world. Her own little hell on earth that equaled to heaven and she was not giving that up for anything on this world... though she might take up the offer if anyone could tell her where dangerous and charming was at.
It was there, on that park bench, by the swings on the sunny day--while the grass was still wet from the storm the night before that a young man approached her.
She noticed he had blue eyes.... she liked blue eyes on men. Though his weren't as warm and mischievous as her own boyfriend, but they were still blue. The blue the filled her with a sense of familiarity.
"Buffy Summers?"
She smiled at him. Be polite Buffy Summer, she chided herself. Great internal manners mom.
"Yes... and I might ask how you know my name but I think that's your next phrase," she said lightly.
The guy looked perplexed. "Humm... yes." he sat down.
"I startled you," she stated more than asked. "I do that a lot--it's called perpetual self-centeredness."
He laughed. She was pleased.
After a while he stopped and looked serious, it was scary, she realized. He was almost like an omen, bringing with his blue eyes bad news.
"I came here as a representative of the United States Special forces..."
Her heart jumped. "Riley? Sam? Is that it?"
He turned to look at her. At that point her heart had stopped beating... it was more like it was doing the dangerous lambada and if she hadn't come back from death twice she would've been worried about getting a heart attack.
"No... it's someone else."
She frowned... who else she knew in the forces. She did a speedy Rolex check of the people she knew.
"One they call William the Bloody..."
That's when she felt her world go dark. Like a nasty black cloud settled around her and she felt chilly. She decided that she was dreaming. This was one of those bad dreams psychologists and mommies through the centuries had called nightmares. This one was getting darker by the minute.
Along with her current cardiac arrest her mouth felt dry and all she could do was nod.
Him taking a deep breath before speaking was not of the good.
"Last night, while my squad and I were doing our final rounds over Sunnydale, Hostile 17 was spotted in the western cemetery and was staked on sight." he bit his lip. "We didn't know he was now an ally of the Slayer until we got back to base." he fidgeted with his hands. "I'm sorry to be the one to inform you Miss Summers."
Buffy heard. But like one of those dreams you have when you fall asleep on the couch and you hear the TV far away. Hostile 17 was spotted in the western cemetery and was staked on sight. He didn't fight? No grand and glorious death? No witty remark. Maybe an arrow that came for him in the night. No chance to duck or roll over or sneak a few punches in. No. Staked on sight. Like in dust. Like on his way home to her, with his black duffle back and the poof! no more vampire, no more Spike, no more William... no more boyfriend.
The only thing she found comfort in was puking on his shoes before passing out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He would never tell anyone nor admit that he fell asleep crying. Until he was tasting wet sand on his mouth. Sometime in the night he had hid under a thick bush of trees to protect him from the rapidly coming sun. Now that the sun was safely covered by clouds for the next fifteen or so minutes he dragged his heavy feet and his two ton head to find shelter. Somewhere there had to be a cave or something... until what? He couldn't think of that now. Survive first, find Buffy next.
He found his cave just in time as the sun was coming out from behing the clouds again, bathing the small island with it's rays. He balanced himself against the slick rocks with his right hand and with his other he lit his lighter to go deeper into the cave.
He found a nice flat space were he shed his duster and used it to pillow his bottom as he went through his meager possessions. Blood, check. Shirts, check. Wet smokes, check.
The last item he pulled out held his gaze.
It was a picture of Buffy, smiling. He had nicked it from her house last year. The frame had gotten wet so the picture was stuck to the frame. He stood it up and placed it across from him. Sighing he draped his coat around his shoulders and stretched out his wet shirts in the sun, scorching his skin lightly... but any pain was welcomed.
He took one of the packets of blood and drained half of it. The rest he dipped them in a small pool in the inside of the cave, the water was cool and it would keep them cool. Once night came he would go hunt... though he might as well sign his death warrant--he couldn't hurt a living thing.
He might as well get some sleep until the sun went down so he stripped off all his clothes to let them dry. When he took his pants off he heard a jingle.
Curious about, he dug his hand into the left pocked and pulled it out.
Buffy's earring.
He remembered how only hours before he had been with her.
"This will help me find my way home," he smiled at her.
"Home?" she asked, though she tried to glare it melted into a smile.
"Yeah... home to you and nibblet."
Those damn things called tears started prickling at his eyes again. Taking her wet earring and staring at her picture he curled himself up in a naked ball of flesh and cried himself to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(3 days later)
Her eyes were sore and her stomach was definitely made out of jelly. Dawn had tried to get her to eat something but everything just kept her upchuck reflex active.
She tentatively moved her index finger up and up. In a 'come hither' way. But who was coming this time?
The memory filled her once again and she whimpered under her covers... this time there were no more tears left. A couple of minutes of whimpering and she dragged herself out of bed. One sock purple another white, bra-less and in some large jammies. Little bears were on them and they hugged each other happily. 'Forever' was the pink word filled with glitter that adorned the touching scene like a rainbow on a rainy sunny day.
She wanted to puke again... but nothing came out this time. Nothing was there, just her stomach trying to turn itself inside out.
She was trembling by the time she shed her socks and PJ's, ran cold water and just let it rain on her overheated skin. If she closed her eyes tight enough it could be Spike surrounding her... just being all around her.
That's how Dawn found her, curled into a ball and just staring out into nothing. Her little sister turned off the water and wrapped the shivering body with a thick warm towel fresh from the drier.
She didn't force her to sit up or get out of there. She just sat in the tub with her and stroked her wet locks.
After what seemed like hours Buffy stirred. Coming out of her trance-like-state.
"I'm sorry, Dawn." She whispered.
Dawn said nothing, her silence shadowing the 15 year old mentality buried within her.
"I've fallen... apart. I-I try to be better... I really do. And I thought I had it under control," fresh tears were slipping from her eyes.
"It wasn't your fault, Buffy."
For the first time in the horrible past 3 days, Buffy looked at her sister. Her skin was pale and she had been crying. Dark circles under her eyes and her arms looked thinner than ever. Had she even paid the light bill that morning? God, they were going to cut it off and here she was mourning her love.
"Did..." her voice was hoarse and she tried to gulp. Dawn quickly grabbed a cup from the sink and filled it with cool water. Buffy drank greedily, feeling completely dehydrated. She drank four whole cups before she could utter a word.
She nodded in thanks to Dawn and sat up, wrapping the cooling towel around her thin body.
"How did I make it home... I don't remember..."
Dawn picked up one of the leave in conditioners from the counter and started massaging it into her sister's head. "That guy, Jack brought you home... he said that after he told you about..." her voice went dry and Buffy ducked her head. She knew Dawn loved the vampire almost as much as she did. "Well you know, about the news... that you started with the puking... and you fainted."
Buffy closed her eyes just letting the feel of the thick comb running through her hair fill her. "I can't believe he's gone." She whispered after a while.
Dawn continued the steady brushing, maybe her own way of dealing. Move some, ignore some.
"Really gone... he said he would be right back." A small tear ran down her cheek. "He wouldn't want me to cry... he wouldn't want that, would he?" She looked up at her little sister who looked very much more mature than what she had acted all year long.
"No he wouldn't have... he would've wanted us to remember him... and his smirk and his pessimism."
Buffy laughed. It was a bad laugh. A laugh that told you, she knew exactly what she was talking about but it was too painful to bear. Yes, a bad laugh indeed.
"I want you to know that ... I loved him... and he knew it."
Dawn stood still and watched her sister. So finally... after all the year of sexual banter Buffy gives in and bam! She looses him. No wonder her sister was twisted. Life was a bitch to her.
"Then you shouldn't feel bad. It would've been bad if you never told him... if he never knew. If he didn't carry that with him."
Buffy nodded and bit her lip. "Yeah... but what good will that be?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
The mere reason alone that she loved him made the struggle worth it. He wasn't going home to denial and punches and shagging in alley walls... not that they really had to give that up but it was all part of the wonderful Buffy plan.
Today was D-day. The day he ran out of blood. No more bagged crimson life. No more pig blood. Just plain old hunting... with a chip that would sooner kill him than let him hurt a bird.
He growled.
There was something moving ahead in the bushes. Like an animal he crouched down. Silent, predatory, dangerous. Now he was the king of the jungle. The dominant species, astute, fast, and deadly.
The position wasn't bad but the lack of a throne and a queen made it a lame thought.
He wondered if he would go crazy and talk to a beach ball like the pansy idiot did in that Castaway movie. No... the idiot didn't know how to built fire, unlike Spike who had to do many nights of impromptu camping when Dru want to dance with the stars.
The moment was right... he tensed... he focused... he pounced. The bird shirked and flapped his wings and Spike closed his eyes and sharply snapped his neck...waiting for the pain...any moment now... ok... he'd never had to wait this long.
No pain.
He opened one eye to make sure the large bird was dead. It was dead. Gray wings that flopped lifelessly like a dead salesman.
No pain.
He killed a living creature... and there was no pain.
He growled and threw his soon-to-be dinner against a palm tree, sounding in a sick dead thunk.
"Oh bloody marvelous!" he screamed to the night sky.
He stomped a bit, crushing bushes with his bare hands and hitting tree trunks until his fists bleed.
"Make me demon, now, why don't you. It's like all you do is play Parcheesi with good ol' Spike. Hey let's give him a barrier. Send in the bloody Slayer so she can make him a bloody poof. Oh, why don't we shove a damn chip up his brain stem so he'll be a tamed puppy! And best of all! Have the Slayer actually give a rats ass about 'im and then take him away from her and then take the bleeding chip out of his soddin' brain! What's next? I get stuck here forever until I decide one day to greet the lovely sparkly sun and say au revoir to this soddin' world!"
"Touching, really."
Spike jumped, breathing hard and standing with his fist ready to fight. In front of him a man stood. With red hair and an almost white beard. He looked at him amused. And smirked.
Then someone hit his head with a bat and he passed out cold.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She hated dreaming. All her dreams always meant something. And by the color, feel, and smell of it she knew this was one of those.
dream sequence
She was walking down a cobble path. There were silly daisies on the floor. The air smelled like fresh cut grass and lavender and oddly enough there were birds around her--pretty blue and red just floating on the wind.
Soft songs of Spring.
Any moment now she knew she would see a unicorn graze the land. The forest was full of life--with squirrels and rabbits just wandering around. Not a care in the world.
But her stomach felt like it was in knots.
"Hello?" she said.
A small fawn walked up to her. She knew those eyes, they reminded her of her mountain cats filled with spirits of the dead.
"Where am I?" she asked the fawn.
She could've sworn she saw it smile and it made her shiver in fright.
A smiling deer was too Bambi for her.
The fawn turned and walked ahead on the cobble road. She followed it, hoping it would lead her ... somewhere... anywhere.
It stopped in a clearing, a valley filled with flowers. They shone and the breeze was light. She wondered if this was her cue to start 'The hills are alive'.
There was a large, flat boulder in the middle of the valley and she could see someone sitting on it. She ran to them.
"Help!" she cried.
The person didn't turn.
But she ran anyway, not being able to see the head since the sun got in her eyes and she had to squint.
When she looked up she promptly fell on her butt.
There--on top of this large rock was Spike, in jeans and nothing else drawing with colored chalk.
"Spike?" she whispered.
He didn't look up but smiled.
"When the moon is four and the sun is eight you shall not be alone."
She gapped at him.
"You're dead," she stated.
He looked up then and she realized there were tear tracks on his face.
"Spike?... are you crying?" she asked and stood up.
He said nothing but waited until she was climbing up the rock and sitting before him cross legged, holding her hands as if she were trying to stop them from holding him.
"A vampire without a soul doesn't cry."
"I've seen you cry," she said. "Does that mean that you have a soul?"
"No," he said. "It means someone is wrong."
Buffy bit her lip. "Are you dead?"
"Since 1860," he responded and smirked.
She rolled her eyes and swatted his arms. "Are you dust?"
"Dust falls on the ground and grows new things."
She leaned forward and looked at what he was drawing.
In red chalk there before her was a circle. There was a stick figure in the circle and around the figure was a long line that swirled and swirled as if lost--without beginning nor end.
"This is were I am at."
Tear pricked her eyes. "Is this hell?"
Spike nodded. "It's hell for me."
A little sob came from her throat. "Why won't you hold me?"
"Because you won't want me to."
end of dream
Buffy jumped up in bed, crying and screaming 'no'.
Before she knew it Dawn was next to her, holding her and telling her it was going to be okay.
In the dark of the night she still heard the whisper.
"When the moon is four and the sun is eight you shall not be alone."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
White walls of ebony made him stand out in the monotony of the sterile hall.
Two men were behind him as he walked proudly to his destination. There was no longer a need to hang his head--mission complete. He was now an accomplished soldier.
The two men at the door saluted and he saluted back.
"Lieutenant Finn" one of them greeted.
"At ease soldier," he replied.
"General Polis has been expecting your report, sir."
Riley nodded and entered the room. Saluted to his senior and handed him the manila envelope. "Mission completed, sir."
General Polis took the papers from his officer and looked over the photos. The hostile and the Slayer kissing--sharing what in other eyes would've been considered a romantic moment, yet he scoffed at it. Then the hostile walking by himself with a black bag. The hostile being shot and laying on the floor, unconscious. The hostile on an operating table, knocked out and under delicate neural surgery. The hostile being thrown out of the helicopter and into the Straight of Gibraltar sea. Down to the pit less ocean and onto the small unknown island.
The General smiled. "Excellent work, Finn."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. She looked thinner--her once tight pants that hung tightly on her hips where now loose and worthy of sneakers. She could also see her ribs, her skin felt pasty and she looked ashen.
She hated doctor visits.
Dawn was making her go, saying that she looked sick and perhaps the doctor could prescribe an anti-depressant.
She wasn't depressed.
She was in mourning.
But she wasn't thinking about that anymore. It would be a shadow in the back of her mind. The only thing that reminded her of him was the blood stain in her couch and the blanket she used nightly to be able to sleep.
Nothing much, really--it was little souvenirs that would never amount to him...
"Ready?" Dawn opened the door to check up on her.
Buffy had hardly eaten in days except for some soup here and there and maybe some fruit.
"Yeah... I'm ready." Ready to not remind herself that remembering him was not of the good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dream sequence
He was standing on the porch again. Telling her he was coming right back.
"Please don't go..." she said, it sounded like a trickle in the rain. Soft and chanting like an Elven tongue.
He turned to look at her. Her hair was long once again and she was dressed in a blue dress. It was daytime and he wasn't burning. She held out her hand to him. Soft manicured pink hand that held a thousand and one promises. A thousand and one secrets that chanted and lured him in the nightish day.
"I'll be right back," he told her, taking her hands and pulling her against his chest. She was soft and warm as if she'd laid in the sun for a long time. She smelled like fresh clothes or at least what fresh clothes seemed to smell like in those Bounce commercials.
She tightened her arms around him. "No, you won't--you'll leave, I know it."
He smiled and placed a kiss on top of her head.
"Where's the brave Slayer I know?"
She pulled back and looked at him. She was pouting. "You won't. You'll try to get home and I'll think you're pushing daisies. And you'll just be floating like a paper boat on a water filled tub. Then you'll get distracted by dark Barbie dolls with missing shoes." her eyes met his. "Then you won't be my Jedi knight--you'll be Donald in a red suit and too much green."
Spike laughed.
"What on earth are you blabbing 'bout?" he pulled her against him once more. "That's nonsense!"
"But you will," she muffled into his shirt. "And then you won't be my valentine."
"I'll always be yours, Buffy--you know it."
"But I won't then."
end of dream
OK--why did they always have to hit him in the head? Why couldn't they just wait till he was sleeping or something? As if everyone had one big secret to hide and did all types of naughty things while he was out. He groaned.
"Wakey, wakey."
He growled and opened one eye to see a man standing before him with a cup in his hand. He had a thick beard and was relatively short and fat. He smelled like fermented juice and dirty laundry.
He was really wishing at the moment that he knew what Bounce smelled like.
"Who are you?" he murmured.
The man laughed and Spike heard more laughter. He looked around and saw he was surrounded by over twenty creatures. Men, vampires and demons.
The laughter continued.
"Where am I?" he asked, trying to sit up and realizing he was not bound at all--just a bit dizzy.
Short, fat and fermented extended his hand. Spike looked at it tentatively.
Shorty laughed again. "I'm not the one who bites here, friend."
Spike took it, letting him help him stand up.
"Thanks, mate." Spike looked around in question. "Where am I?"
He looked to the bonfire and the night sky.
Shorty walked around, drinking his ale as if showing off the place. "The name is Navarro--most everyone calls me Varro. This is our home--we were brought here--just like you. Welcome to the Island of Galleno. Where you come but you can never go back. It's a prison--kindly provided by the shits that run the world--AKA the United Nations. We don't appear in the radar cause it's covered by a magical barrier. We're a ghost island... some of us have been here for decades." He took out a cigarette and smirked. "So lay back and live your eternity."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The words the doctor had just said were jumbled in her head.
Suddenly the white walls seemed painted in red.
"You're pregnant is all--something that happens every day," she repeated.
Buffy gulped and held back her puke.
"I can't... you don't understand," this was one of the most difficult conversations that she had ever done. Tear were silently running down her cheeks. "My boyfriend... he's dead..." The woman looked at her sympathetically. Did they market that look cause she was seeing that all to lately. "And before... I mean when we did," more tears and less volume to her voice. "He wasn't able to ... reproduce."
The doctor stretched out her hand and patted hers that were nearly numb from blood loss as she had clasped them too tightly.
"Then it's something he left you with... of course you're only two months pregnant, if you decided you don't want to have the baby..."
Buffy's head snapped up at her. "No!" she cried.
The doctor pulled back and regarded her. "Raising a child alone is not easy. Especially if something so tragic happened to the father."
Her world was spinning out of control and she felt sick... again... for the 100th time that day, that week, that year.
"I'm not alone... I have friends... and he'd want me to be strong." More tears.
The doctor smiled and nodded. Another commercial look.
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TBC