This chapter is for Clairel. Thanks
for inspiring this installment.
Spike sucked the nicotine-laden smoke into
his lungs and held it there. "I need a fix, 'cause I'm going down." He laughed at himself, muttering as he exhaled, "Mother Superior jumped
the bloody gun." He flicked the ashes into the shallow pool then
sent the unfinished cigarette after the embers, seeming nonchalant. He was anything but.
His attention turned to Dawn, pale now
and sitting heavily on the slimy rock floor of the Master's old digs. She looked pretty bad. It's one thing not eating and not getting
enough sleep. It's another having your blood drained right out of
you.
Spike hadn't been able to watch as Giles
had cut into Dawn's flesh. "Shallow cuts . . . Shallow cuts." The blood poured into the ceremonial chalice. Why did everything
have to be so bloody ceremonial?
Spike looked down at the chalice in his
hands filled with Dawn's blood, or was it Buffy's blood? His mind
swirled with confusion. The Scoobies were looking at him, waiting. Will was chanting away, her eyes dark. The pool didn't seem so shallow
anymore. Spike lifted the chalice and saluted them. "Cheers
mates." Then he drank. The blood, Dawn's blood. So rich. So . . . he shuddered in pleasure, gulping the liquid greedily, not caring
if some of it spilled from the corners of his mouth. He felt his
teeth lengthen. No. He didn't want that to be the last thing
Little Bit saw before . . .
He jumped.
The pool wasn't shallow.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Spike landed with a crash. Pain shot
through his body. Where the hell was he? Fire shot through
the window. Sounds of a riot. Then he saw it . . . well, her. And he saw himself too. Fighting. The Chinese Slayer.
Suddenly a hand rested on his shoulder. She spoke Chinese, but he understood. "William."
Her eyes were pools of hate.
"You never gave my mother the message,
did you?"
Her hand immobilised him, and he had to
watch. Spin, kick, punch. She was good with the sword that
one. Was that admiration? Spike, the other not-so-pleasant
Spike, licked his own blood from his lips. He loved this. Violence,
mayhem.
"And sod all else, right?" the Chinese
Slayer whispered in his ear.
Spike didn't know the Chinese used that
kind of slang.
"Yeah baby."
Her grip tightened on his shoulder. Then he saw himself, the look of desperation in the Slayer's eyes as he
took her life. "Sorry, Love. I don't speak Chinese."
Watching her die excited him. His
body responded as he remembered how it felt to have the blood of the powerful
Slayer rushing through his veins. Then Drusilla. It was a powerful
aphrodisiac after all.
His eyes caressed the young girl's motionless
form. Gently the Chinese Slayer whispered in his ear, "My mother
killed herself. I was all she had."
Spike suddenly understood what her mother
felt. If it weren't for Dawn, he would have done the same thing. Killed himself.
"Remarkable."
Who the hell was that?
Then nothing.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thud.
"Oh bloody hell, what now?"
A black-booted foot slammed into his face. "Where's my coat, punk?"
Nikki, the subway slayer.
Spike felt powerless against her blows. He raised his hands. "You're not as nice as the other one."
Slam.
Blood poured from a freshly opened wound
on his cheek. He tried to retaliate, but somehow none of the punches
he threw landed. "Why do all you Slayers like playing kick the Spike
so much?"
Whap. "Maybe, you asshole, because
you enjoy hurting us so much. You do enjoy it, don't you?"
An uppercut to Spike's jaw sent him flying
across the subway car. He was in a subway car? When had that
happened?
Shakily he scrambled to his feet.
"Not anymore."
Nikki tossed him to the ground, straddling
him, pinning him down. He was helpless. He felt her hands around
his neck.
"You liked feeling all powerful didn't
you? Hard thing to give up."
"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly have a choice. That bloody chip." The words came out as a gruff whisper.
"There's always a choice Spike . . . William. You know that."
"I am what I am you bint."
"You are what you created, what you learned,
what you thought you had to be. Now you're learning new tricks, right?"
The pressure on his throat increased. The bloody Slayer was gonna pop his head right off. Rebellion surged
up.
"Old dogs don't learn new tricks, bitch."
Nikki shook her head. "What are you
so afraid of?"
"None of your fucking business."
Her fingernails dug painfully into his
neck, drawing blood. "Now punk. And make it real."
"Him."
"Who?"
"William."
Nikki laughed. "You're still a freak
William. Everyone still hates and mocks you. What's
the difference being Spike?"
"No one can hurt me." A pathetic,
desperate gasp.
Nikki laughed again and squeezed even harder. "Yeah, right."
Spike lost consciousness.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
His eyes opened. He was face to face
with her. The shell of her. Buffy. She looked so peaceful.
His eyes drifted beyond the body. He felt strangely detached. He saw Willow crying. Then he saw
himself, hysterical, his carefully constructed persona dissolved under
the weight of grief and failure.
"No one can hurt me."
He looked again upon Buffy's motionless
body. Guilt ran through him as he stroked her cheek. So soft. So cold.
"I'm sorry love."
Buffy's eyes opened.
"Oh my God."
Buffy sat up and slapped his hand away. "Spike. What the hell happened to your hair?"
END PART THREE