***

Spike watched the shadows in the crypt grow longer. Little snakes of light were sliding backwards along the floor. It was almost sunset. Another hour, and he'd be free to roam. He'd spent the day trying to get a little sleep but he was so restless. As usual, the day, for Spike was one long time out. It was like being punished as a small child.

"You'll stay inside until I say you can leave." The dim memory of a woman's voice. His mother? A nanny? He couldn't remember. He remembered the feeling, though. Being cut off from the outside world, limited, like his arms had been tied to his side and his mouth stuffed with cotton. What he wouldn't give to go outside just now. He watched the leaves rustling and rippling through the door, the spring sunshine turning them emerald and pale gold.

The last year had been the hardest. He could no longer ignore the facts of what he'd done in the past. It wasn't so much that he felt guilt. No, guilt was for Angel. It was the constant repetition in his mind. Images of people, who, like him, were limited in their existence. Humans, so weak, so vulnerable. Practically unable to fight back. The thought of torturing them now was like torturing himself. He had been rendered soft and weak.

He had killed for food, once. It was the food chain. Clean, simple, and without thought. Blood was life. Blood makes you strong. It makes you hard, it makes you feel. Without it, he would have died. There were no moral ambiguities there. Now, everything was an unpleasant shade of gray. Killing was easy. The burden of one's own weakness was much harder to bear.

"The hardest thing in this world is to live in it." The words rang hollow. Such sentiments were all fine and good as long as one was living. For the dead, however, things were more complicated. Life was complicated but limbo was an utter abstraction.

He knew now, that he had loved her. The Slayer. It was perverted, he knew. Of course it was and always had been a joke. It didn't change the fact, though. And he'd loved Dawn too. He didn't understand their relationship. He'd never had a child, he never would. He didn't know if this was how it felt, but his drive to protect her was compelling.

She was so fragile. And now she was completely alone. She'd been sent away almost immediately after Buffy's death. To live with her father. Who'd never actually met her. It was bitter to think of her now. When it was all too late.

Spike's eyes focused and he realized that it was night. He wondered where Faith had holed up for the night. She must have discovered the Great Escape by now. It had been almost 24 hours since he'd first seen her. Morbidly curious, he wanted to know just how broken she really was.

He also wanted to see how the Council's hunt panned out. It could get juicy.

He decided to start at the highschool library and track her from there. When he arrived, though, he was surprised to discover that she hadn't even left the building. The remains of the library were in even more pieces than they had been the night before. Vicious, red claw marks stood out in upon the splintered wood. Sniffing, Spike knew that the blood was human.

He took in the mess around him, whistling under his breath. She'd done a lot of damage in one day. This bitch had strength. And stamina.

Then he spotted her. She was curled up under a piece of the old, smashed library table. Maybe she'd felt safer with her wooden blanket. She was lying very still. Spike thought for a moment that she was already dead but, listening, he could hear her breathing.

She looked so wounded. So totally lost. He crouched beside her and reached his arm out. She allowed him to touch her face. He wasn't even sure that she knew he was there. Her dark eyes were open, but mostly vacant. Something moved in them, but he couldn't identify what.

Spike gently brushed her hair back. Her expression seemed so familiar, as it should. It was the same expression that Buffy had worn once. When she had been so lost that it had taken a miracle to bring her back. Well, if not a miracle, then the concern of her friends.

Buffy's face and Faith's were melting into each other. A composite was beginning to form in Spike's mind. He ran his hands over Buffy's face and felt Faith turn hers towards him. She was warm and alive. So beautiful.

Was this vision of Buffy a ghost? An angel? Spike wasn't sure but his lips found hers and he held her tight in her arms. His embrace so tight that she could hardly breathe.



[I am a drug]

[I am a dragon]

[I am the best jazz you've ever seen]

[I am a dragon]

[I am the sky]

[I am the blood at the corner of your eye]

[I found the secrets, I found gold]

[I find you out before you grow old]



Finally, they were together. Spike would devour her. She was so soft and smooth. Her hips were pressed hard against him rubbing against him seductively. She squirmed and wiggled so deliciously, it was all he could do to tear her shirt off and fumble with her bra. Unaware of his movements, he found that he was on top of her.

Beneath him she heaved with anticipation. Her breast arched towards him like the breast of a swan. He nipped at her breasts and began to feel himself grow hard. Reaching down, he undid his pants and rubbed against her writhing body. He tore through her pants and underwear with his sharp teeth. Gently, he held her down while his hands moved in and out of her, warm and ripe.

Finally, he entered her. Savoring the sensation of her tight flesh surrounding his, he began to pump back and forth. The resistance and friction was heavenly. In his frenzy, he felt her become suddenly, tremendously wet. He felt her shudder beneath him in her ecstasy. He hoped it would never end. He came inside her, shooting his love deep into the center of her body while she moaned beneath him.

It wasn't enough. He grew hard again in a few minutes and began again. And again. Finally, she could do nothing but heave beneath him and grow still before spasming once more. So taken was she by his love. Lost in joy, he fell asleep hours later, the two of them still connected.



[You're still breathing but you don't know why]

[You're still breathing but you just can't tell]

[Don't hold your breath but the pretty things are going to hell]



Faith continued to shudder long through the night. She could feel very little anywhere in her body except her slashed, mutilated nipples and the pool of blood that had formed around her broken pelvis. It was expanding and she was getting farther and farther away from it. She stared emptily at the night sky above her, watching the cosmos rolling around like a top. A few short hours before dawn the blood and flesh fell away from her and she became the wind that rushed through the exposed library rafters.