Darkest Before Dawn -- part 5 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. Lyrics belong to The Proclaimers, 500 Miles.

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: PLEASE READ!! A lot of you have been contacting me--kinda upset because of the Jack angle. I don't blame you--I would be upset too if I were the reader. But remember that it's all part of the tale and that this is indeed a B/S fiction. Yes, Jack will become a love interest for Buffy--she has no idea who or what he did. Will Spike return home right away? No--have patience he had a lot of learn in his journey.

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"The cure for all ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrows and the crimes of humanity, all lie in the one word 'love.' It is the divine vitality that everywhere produces and restores life."

Lydia Maria Child

He folded his shirt neatly like he had been taught for years. Pressed white and wrinkle-free. He was a soldier, a damn good soldier and the jewel of the government's eye.

He remembered the years in West Point. He had been the best--a born leader. He had learned to lie with a smile on his face since he was 4 years old. He'd also learned to be cruel at the tender age of seven when he ripped Margaret Rith's doll's head off and fed it to his Doberman. Margaret cried for days... but no one believed her. Jack Marshall, son of Senator-to-be Richard Marshall would never do such a thing.

He stood--back straight--and placed his pressed shirt on his large locker. This was just a project he kept telling himself. A project before he was promoted. Jack-never-seen-a-battlefield smiled at himself in the locker mirror and walked out in his civilian clothes to have some of the hard as hell mash potatoes that gave his pregnant girlfriend's recipe a run for it's money. If he had not worked with the very prestigious Section 435 --which used to be called the Initiative-- for the past three years he would've thought that she was carrying the vampire's child. But she was not as innocent as those large green eyes told.

The vampire would live all his life thinking that she loved only him while she was spreading her dimpled knees to a one night stand at 8AM while fucking him dry by 10PM.

Smart girl, he thought with a smirk. But not smart enough for Jack-145-IQ.

The dining hall was like another Army metal house. Only Section 435 had little posters of career development with models who badly needed makeup to cover up their human skin flaws.

As he entered the hall the soldiers stopped their eating.

No--he thought...they were not going to salute. The hollow feelings in their eyes told him otherwise. They were the same as him. Ivy league graduated with fathers in positions that would get them in others.

Well bred, middle America raised with Prep-School backgrounds and vacations in France.

"Marshall... glad you could join us," Officer McCoy said, with a slick white smile on his face and glittering eyes... twice Jack's size.

Jack rolled his eyes and grabbed his plate. "What is that supposed to mean?"

A couple of chuckles were heard in the room and he ignored them as he filled his plate with mashed potatoes and re-heated meatloaf.

All eyes were on him and he sat by himself on the corner table. But he was soon joined by ten other white collar officers who circled him like hyenas spotting prey. Snickering with white teeth of Floride and paste. He filled his mouth with crunchy mash potatoes and looked straight ahead to the career poster of a man in a business suit.

The hyenas sat on top of his table and McCoy placed his ass next to his tray, making Jack to stop eating and glare at the officer.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

McCoy laughed and grabbed the spoon on his tray, picking up a healthy portion of Mashed potatoes. He brought the full spoon to his face to study the white substance.

"Tell me... how does it feel to fuck a vampire's whore?"

Jack stood up abruptly, making the chair he was sitting on fall and clatter loudly on the gray tiles.

McCoy smiled--he'd gotten the response he had searched for. "I guess it's not all that --is it daddy's boy?"

"You'll be the one to talk, McCoy," Jack glared at the son of the Mayor.

White bread with the spoon smiled and dropped the mashed potatoes unceremoniously on his pants. "Oops--look at that."

Jack growled--as much as a human white boy could and grabbed McCoy by the lapels of his shirt. A whistle blew that made all the men separate.

"Marshall!"

Jack-IQ145 stood stock still, back straight and hand folded by forehead in a salute.

"Lieutenant Major, Watson."

The older man waltzed into the room, pressed hat under his right arm and metal club swinging like a Zoot Suit on a Mardi Gras.

"I know you soldiers are getting along, aren't you?" he asked, directly glaring at McCoy and Jack.

McCoy took a deep breath. "Yes sir, we are, sir."

The Major turned his head and looked at Jack, raising his eyebrow as he saw his mash potatoes stained pants. "Need a bib, Lieutenant?"

Jack's jaw hardened. "No, sir."

The Major walked slowly, menacingly, his spit shined shoes making soft clanking noise as he walked to stand in front of Jack.

"And are you going to stand there with them dripping on the clean floor?" he asked in almost a whisper.

He might've popped his jaw from the pressure he was putting behind it --he was two seconds from doing that when two of the younger officers snickered at the Major's comments. His head snapped to the side to glare at them like a raptor on a hunt.

"Something funny, soldiers?"

They straightened up and answered in unison. "No, sir."

The Major looked around and glared at all of them. "As you were, soldiers." With that he walked out.

Jack looked down at his pants. He cursed internally, he would have to change again since he promised Buffy Summers that he would go to the next Doctor's appointment with her.

McCoy walked in front of him and smiled. "We'll finish this some other time, Marshall." Others laughed and filed out of the metal cafeteria. He was left with career posters of smiling professionals.

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If you asked him years later what he felt at that moment all he could tell you is death.

One that had caused death for so long was tasting death as it poured down his throat like hot coals. Burning all of him in a thick black muddy breath.

He didn't realized that was screaming and grabbing the demon until the blood spluttered in his sigh and it stung his eyes.

He could hear voices and noises but all he knew was the pain that was coursing down his throat--burning him from the inside out. He was waiting for spontaneous combustion any moment now and somehow it was welcomed.

He couldn't remember anymore what had caused this pain to rip at the very root of his being--all he knew is that he wanted to die. Die, dead, death like the body before him. Shredded into pieces by his own bare hands--by his own bare thoughts, dreams and memories.

He knew only one way to die. And with that he ran down the beach into the welcoming blue light.

Archie couldn't stop his young friend. It took him a second to realize what he was doing--when blood had spluttered on everyone's ale cup the silence penetrated the island like the sea before a storm.

No one had killed anyone outside of the Cage --ever.

Archie and Varro ran after Spike as he growled and screamed down the beach.

They dove after him after he had thrown himself in the water. The black water of night that welcomed him with open arms.

"Spike!" they screamed after him.

But he ignored them and let the water wash over him like a holy river that cleanses the soul, taking away the grime and blood from his hands and chest and little flecks from his hair.

He was drowning and he loved it--loved the forgetting, loved the nothingness that accompanied the large gulps of salty sweet water.

Seaweed was getting stuck in his teeth and he didn't care he wanted the light, the pure shinning blue light that would mean the end.

Because without her he couldn't...

He was grabbed by four large hands when thoughts of her came into his clouded mind. He screamed again--over and over again. Until he was drowning and waving and crying and sobbing and numb with too much emotion at the same time.

This wasn't right--he wasn't right. Vampires couldn't feel this way, it was undemonic and he hated it. Hated everyone of his damn emotions and they flooded him like the water from the sea. Hands tried to control him and kept him from the light--he screamed in frustration--anger and just....

"Stop!" they screamed at him.

He got even madder and started cursing--sputtering words he hadn't said in months--cursing all the gave and took life, cursing God himself.

When there was no reaching the blue light, when there was no end to his drowning he arched back and screamed... until he bled, he screamed. Until he flooded the sea with his tears--the tears of a vampire, the tears of a demon.

He felt himself being pulled, away...away...so far away.

Where was he going--his eyes glazed over and his lips shredded and the constant chewing of his fangs.

Now all he knew was that he was sobbing, sobbing as they dragged him by his arms--his legs leaving a trail on the beach. Wet, confused, and trying to find 101 words to describe despair.

Desolation--he was alone... so alone. There was nothing worth living for...there was nothing worth crying for...there was nothing. The Nothing had taken over him and eaten away his insides until all that was left was a hollow body with sea water for tears.

Gloom-- the day was a perpetual night. A place of thunder and gray clouds. A place where everything was one large gray color, a Charlie Chaplin movie with no humor and no smiles.

Depression-- his eyes glazed over as they carried him. Carried him where? To the place of no return? He didn't care. Life was a bitch--he was a bitch--she was a bitch--it was a world full of bitches that were mortal and died.

Except for him. He was still here.

Still there as they carried him to the hut that had become his home and they tried to lay him in bed and he arched, and growled and fought.

Until Archie grabbed his hair, pulled his head back and growled--bringing out his game face.

Spike whimpered and his eyes rolled back. There was nothing inside of him. All hell mourned.

"Snap out of it!"

He growled and snapped his fangs at him.

A stinging slap. He wheezed a laugh. Give me some more!

Words being told to him, whispers ... it was nothing to him.

"God will give you vengeance!"

God would give him vengeance. If you've never heard anyone laugh and cry at the same time you wouldn't have believed that he did it.

"There is no god!" he cried. He though about it more. And screamed it louder. "You hear me? There is no god!"

His hair was grabbed rougher and tighter. "You might not believe it but it's there!"

"I have no god!" he wailed and his eyes rolled back even more. "She..." Her name hurt his tongue and it failed to curve around her name. "I'm a demon!"

He grabbed Archie's shoulders. "I.Want.To.Die."

"You're already dead, friend."

Spike looked at him. Eyes that had always told him truth. He held his gaze. He held it for all that was--like a life boat on a calming sea.

"Vengeance... vengeance is all you have now..." he told him softly.

Spike sunk down in the bed and let the sobs wash over him like a lost wave on the large sea...until his muscles hurt too much to move.

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The phone rang three times before it was picked up.

"Senator Marshall's private line how might I help you?" the female voice said--educated and perfect.

"Holly? It's me, Jack."

The secretary smiled. "Hello Jack--your father is in a very important meeting--"

"Tell him it's an emergency!"

Holly gulped. Like father like son.

"I'll see if I can get through," she said curtly and placed him on hold. Taking a deep breath she stood up and knocked softly on the door.

A shy knock on the oak door and there was scrambling heard in the other side of the door--a small female squeak.

"Just a minute, Holly--" He knew he wouldn't be disturbed unless it was a real important matter.

A bit disheveled Senator opened the door and straightened up. A young petite woman in her early 20's tucked her messy hair behind her ear and walked out of the office.

"We'll discuss those cases later on, Mindy," he said with indifference.

Holly glared at him. "Your son is on line 3 --he sounds pissed."

The Senator cleared his throat and nodded. "I'll take it in my office."

"Father?"

The Senator gulped his coffee. "Jack, I was in a very important meeting."

"Screwing the newest intern is not as important as this," his retorted.

"Jack Nathaniel Marshall! I am your father!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I need you to get me out of here--I'm sick of these idiots treating me like I'm a nobody."

The Senator rubbed his temples. He had hated his time in the army too. "Fine--Give me a couple of days."

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Time was a hollow companion on the Isle of the Dead.

For days he stayed staring at her picture frame and holding the earring until it might have broken in his fingers... and it poked him, until blood ran down his hand and to the earthy floor--but he didn't care. The pain told him that she was dead and he was dead and the whole world was their graveyard.

Occasionally Archie and Varro force fed him...but blood ran down his throat and he didn't care whether he lived or died.

He didn't care.

Life was nothing, air was nothing, nothing past the gold frame and the twinkling earring embedded in his hand.

He didn't count the days but Archie did. Spike had been staring off to space for four days and seven hours.

The older vampire kept an account at the reactions of a soulless vampire when he learned that the one thing he loved was gone. Though she had died before this time she had loved him back--and he had not been there to protect her.

September 6th, 2002

He has not moved from his position. He sits on the cot and stares at the frame which contains the picture of the Slayer. His Slayer. I find it most interesting--bedside's the vampire's obvious pain--the question of humanity and how much humanity is left when a person becomes a vampire? We still do not know what caused the Slayer's death but we'll never known unless we get out of here. Having William staring into nothing makes it hard to work on my own, plus though Varro has helped out I am not sure if it is wise to trust the human.

The human Varro seems to have compassion towards the vampire, but finds himself questioning why exactly he is helping. Perhaps it's the fact that looking at the vampire's eyes tells tales of pain and suffering beyond what is sustainable in a soulless body. It chills even the most uncaring creature to the bone.

There is anger and frustration building within him and I can see one day it will bring his death.

Apart from total sorrow I see love that is still as bright as a night fire. He cares not for anything other than her and it's moments when small tears fall from his hollow eyes that I wonder if all love isn't completely selfish in every way. To love it is to want it and to want it is to need it. I think one day William will look back and make this moment his altar. Make it what turns him into a man--not a young fleeting vampire with too much love of life. But a man who has seen the troubles of the world and let it harden him to the core. There is no regression in this process and there is nothing I can do for him, all is in his hands again. The only way to stop the evolution in him will be to bring his love back, soulless creatures do not move on.

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"Toothpaste," Xander said as he held the list.

Buffy scanned the contents inside the overnight bag. "Check."

"Lotion?"

"Two bottles--scented and unscented."

"Alrighty, then." he looked around. "You're packed and ready, mommy."

Buffy frowned down at her 9 months--about to pop-belly. "Why can't we just pop them out--like poop."

Xander closed his eyes and raised his hands. "With the imagery!"

Buffy looked at him. "Sorry--you're not the whale...I just know I'll never get my shape back. Goodbye Size 2 land."

Xander looked at her as if she'd grown another head. "You know, Buffy--speaking from one male to a female. Guys like girls with a little meat on their bones. You look wonderful and you'll still look wonderful once the baby is out."

Buffy gave him a watery smile. "I think mom would've liked to see the baby...she never had a son."

Xander wrapped his arms around her as best he could. "Yeah... she would've loved it."

"...Xander...?"

"Yeah?"

"...my water broke..."

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September 13th, 2002

William emerged from his catatonic condition yesterday. Both Varro and I were outside making new ropes from bamboo strips when he walked out of the hut and started helping us. We said nothing--afraid to scare him away like a wild animal. But he was not the same William I knew from before and I suspect that he would never be the same.

It had been almost three weeks since the Slayer was killed and he says nothing on the matter, I will not force him either. He mentions nothing of the yacht by the old caves and he doesn't say he wants to leave the island. If I were not younger I would not be able to see that he doesn't want to go on living.

So why does he sit and help us make new ropes? I know not and neither will I ever know. I have come to the conclusion that he's working on auto-pilot. Hungry: feed. Tired: sleep. Light: awake.

He's deader than he's ever been and I know that if he doesn't snap out of it and continues with the evolution in which I have predicted he will go mad. At night when the jungle is quiet I hear him speaking to her dead soul I know now he will speak to her until the end of his days.

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"Ok, Buffy--look at me," the young doctor said.

The Slayer panted and groaned. "Get it out... oh god!"

She screamed again and tore the handle of the chair right off. One of the nurses backed away for her safety.

"Listen to me! You must breathe--you have to think of your baby!"

Buffy looked at her hollowly and panted.

"It's critical and you can loose it if you don't listen to me."

Somehow that got the Slayer's attention. "Please, please save my baby..."

"I'm going to try my best but it'll only work if you try your best, ok, honey?"

Buffy nodded vigorously.

"Now I need to stop pushing so I can move him just a bit--that way he won't tear you, okay honey?"

Another contraction hit Buffy and she clenched her jaw almost to the point of breaking. "I want Spike..." she whimpered after a while. "Please please please..." she murmured almost deliriously.

A nurse ran a wet cool towel over her sweaty forehead. "There, there, hon'ychild," she whispered. "Be a strong mommy, your bay'by is countin' on you."

Buffy closed her eyes and memorized the kind face. "No pushing," she told herself and groaned and she young doctor worked inside of her to save her child... hers and Spike's child.

Pain ripped through her and down her lower back. She cried out softly but held her muscles still. More cool dabbing on her face and soft murmuring words.

"Ok, Buffy, when I tell you I want you to push, push with all your might!"

Pain again... was she allowed to push this time.

Where are you, Spike?

"Push, Buffy!"

She pushed. With her anger and frustration and sorrow.

"There it is!"

When she opened her eyes the doctor was holding up a small tiny wrinkly body who was making more noise than her.

Small tiny arms waived tiny fists.

She couldn't help but want to cry and laugh at the same time. There it was --the one tiny person that was a combination of her and Spike--all that was left of him.

She wanted to hold him--hold him and never let him go.

"Look at him, mommy--a healthy baby boy!" the kind nurse handed the still whimpering baby to Buffy who could just stare at him with tears running down her face.

"Oh god... oh god..." she could only continue the same mantra especially when it was so small and light in her arms.

She touched his cheek and he finally opened his eyes. She had to laugh out of happiness when back at her stared two pale blue eyes.

"Hello, there William... William Jacob Summers."

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"We begin training in the morning--4AM," Spike informed Archie one night before they went to bed.

In the darkness of the hut Archie sat up and looked at him.

"Training for what?" the older vampire asked.

"The Cage... I'm going to win first place." his voice was dark and grim.

"If you want ale, William I have some--"

"I want the map," he stated.

"The black sea treasure?" Archie inquired and turned on the light.

"You said it could be true," Spike told him--hollow eyes looking at the ceiling.

"I can research--"

"You do that, regardless I'm going to fight it, the contest is in two weeks. I have to be in tip-top shape."

Archie nodded and grabbed his glasses. He needed medieval history. Tapping his fingers together he skimmed his titles."

"Archie?"

The older man paused and turned to look at Spike. "I'm out for blood... and there will be no mentioning of her name ever again."

Archie studied the vampire in the small light.

While one researched the other burned with a consuming want to destroy all that was alive...all that had a heartbeat.

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She was not even close to falling asleep but pretending to be deep in sleep when he came into her small room.

He kissed her forehead and she fluttered her eyes opened.

"You did beautiful, luv," he said.

She smiled up at him. "He looks just like you, Spike--have you seen him?"

Her lover nodded. "He has your nose," he smiled.

Colder hand wrapped around hers. "Hold me..." she whispered.

And there she was again in his embrace. "God I miss you... I can't do this without you...."

He pulled back and kissed her softly. "When you most need me I'll be there."

"But I need you now!"

He shushed her and laid her back down. "At times it might seem like I don't love you but I do."

"I know you love me," she whispered and held on to him, making him lie on bed next to her. "We're a family, William--I need you back."

"You'll never have a family, pet."

Hurt in her eyes and lips as they trembled at his harsh words. "What--"

"Buffy!!"

She snapped her eyes opened. Over her was not the same blue eyes but the darker ones of Jack.

"Shhh, baby--it was a bad dream," he murmured and took her into his arms.

She whimpered.

She hated the dream when he was mean.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked. She shook her head and whiped her tears with a small shaky hand.

"No."

"You're not worried are you? About the future and William and Dawn?"

Buffy sighed. Of course she was! "Of course I am, Jack--you know I have no money!"

He took her small shoulder into his hands. "Let me take care of you, Buffy."

She gaped at him.

"I'm a good man--and I have the money Buffy, you'll never need anything. I'll take care of you, Dawn and tiny Jacob--"

"William," she corrected.

He smiled dismissively. "Please let me... I love you, Buffy," he thought carefully. "My soul loves you."

"Your soul?" she asked--interested and almost amazed.

"I do baby, I do--since the first time I saw you..."

"I'm the Slayer, Jack..."

"And I used to be the Initiative boy, remember? Demon hunting is my gig also."

Buffy winced at that thought. A Demon hunter that had killed Spike... accidentally. "Used to be?"

"Didn't I tell you? I'm running for office--my contract with the army is up... my father pulled a few strings..."

"But that's your career, Jack." Buffy reasoned with him, feeling dizzy.

"I'm twenty eight, Buffy... I started West Pointe when I was seventeen... I want a home now."

Buffy pushed him off. "I won't be your Betty Crocker..."

"I love you, Buffy--nothing else," he took her hands and got down on one knee. "Buffy Summers... will you marry me?"

Buffy stared at him ... she couldn't believe he was doing this... the last person who had proposed... it seemed so long ago. Perhaps it was the fact that she hardly had any food left in her cupboards, or maybe the fact that she now had a child, or the fact that she was so incredibly lonely and lost.

She nodded. "Yes, Jack... I'll be your wife."

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THE END... just kidding *bg* TBC...

A/N: I know you hate me right now but trust me and just take deep breaths, those help. Plus the story is far from over. It's just the beginning.