A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this part up, but my computer
decided it would be cool if it crashed. And, as luck would have
it, I ended having to buy an entirely new system...
Part 7
Buffy sat on the sofa, watching the television, though she really
wasn't paying attention. It was late and she knew she should go
to bed, but she couldn't sleep. Her mind was in high gear. She
was almost one hundred percent certain Riley was here because of
Spike's terminating chip. His actions and behavior at the grave-
yard screamed that to her. But, like Giles told her, she couldn't
do anything until she had Riley's spoken confession. Perhaps it
was time to call 'actress Buffy.' Tell Riley about Spike and his
chip and pretend to be happy about it, although deep down inside,
she was hurting as much as Spike was, maybe even worse. She could
pretend. She did it before. With Spike. He believed she was
indeed his beloved Buffybot until he felt her lips on his. So,
yeah, she could pretend, act.
She sighed. That wasn't her only problem, though. There was also
the issue of her confused feelings for the vampire. Ask her one
year ago how she felt about Spike and she would have said, without
a doubt, she tolerated him at best. And about him dying? She simply
would have shrugged and said, 'so?' But now, things were different.
She now considered him, at least, a friend. And she feared his death.
After she was resurrected, Spike was the only one who didn't hover
and constantly ask if she was okay or if she needed anything. If
she wasn't okay or if she did need something, he'd wait till she
told him. And she did. She told him secrets she told no one else.
She confided in him. She grew to like him, more than tolerate him.
She never told him how much she appreciated the things he did. His
valiant attempt to rescue Dawn from Doc. She knew he felt guilty
for not being able to protect Dawn and, in the end, her. She knew
he blamed himself. He probably thought she blamed him as well.
She never did anything to prove otherwise, and she felt guilty for
that. She wanted to let him know it wasn't his fault; she didn't
blame him. No one blamed him.
She never told him how much his staying in Sunnydale to keep his
promise even after her death meant to her. He could have left
them all in a figurative heartbeat and never look back. Because,
after all, she was no longer around for him to try and impress.
That said a lot about him. He was devoted to her and Dawn and
his promise.
She sighed again. She knew she loved him; was in love with him.
She could no longer deny it to herself. But would she get the
chance to tell Spike before he...?
She couldn't think about it anymore. It was too much.
Buffy was awaken by a noise in the kitchen. She sat up, realizing
she fell asleep on the sofa. She sighed, rubbing her eyes, and
went into the kitchen. Dawn, Will, and Tara were up. Tara was
making pancakes for breakfast.
Dawn looked up from her geometry homework, "Hey, Buffy."
"Good morning," Buffy replied, sitting next to her sister.
"How was patrol last night?" Will asked.
"Oh, you know, same old, same old. 'Cept this time, Riley tried
to play hero. Like I can't defend myself."
Tara looked up from the stove, "Any ideas of if he knows about
Spike?"
Buffy shrugged, "I think he knows about the chip. Probably knows
Spike's here, too."
"How do you guess that?"
"He said he stopped by Spike's crypt and didn't see him there.
I tried pretending I didn't know where Spike was but I don't think
I came off quite convincing."
"Is this bad?" Dawn asked.
"I don't know. I doubt Riley will come marching in with a stake,
ready to dust him. I have a few ideas about how to be sure he
knows and everything. I just have to work through it all." She
got up and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a pack of blood
and preparing it for Spike.
Mug in hand, she looked at the girls, "How 'bout we set up a little
Scooby meeting here tonight and we'll discuss this,"
"Sure," Will nodded, "I'll tell Giles and Xander."
Buffy nodded and went upstairs.
Spike was rousing when she entered the room. He could smell the
blood. He was starving. His mouth watered in anticipation.
Buffy said down on the bed and handed him the mug.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Oh, well, you know..." Spike whispered something so quiet she
had to strain to hear it and even then, she couldn't entirely catch
it.
"What?" she asked, quietly.
Spike sighed and said, louder, "Scared. I'm scared. Are you happy
now? We finally found out what it takes to terrify William the Bloody.
Apparently it involves a little plastic and tiny wires." He dropped
his eyes to his lap, too ashamed of what he was feeling and maybe,
deep down, he was waiting for the Slayer to burst into bouts of
laughter.
But she didn't. Spike ventured his eyes up. She was looking at
him with such compassion and concern Spike was sure he was dreaming.
The look she gave him only happened in his dreams.
"Spike, why wouldn't you be scared? Of course, you're scared.
You're facing something no one, no vampire, no man, has ever had
to face. You're suppose to be immortal, never having to fear death,
but, all of a sudden, you're staring at your own mortality in the
face. You can't understand it. And therefore, you fear it. Spike,
\it's a natural *human* reaction. It doesn't make you weak."
Spike felt as if she had seen right through him. Tears pricked his
eyes and he rested his head against her chest, listening to her
mesmerizing heartbeat. Buffy wrapped her arms around him, kissing
his forehead. Comforted, Spike let his tears fall. Buffy felt tears
prick her eyes. She quickly pushed them back. She would not cry.
She could not cry. She had to be strong. For Spike. She would cry
later. Later when she was alone. Away from anyone who might see or
hear her.
Buffy settled on her couch, waiting for the Scooby meeting to begin.
She just left Spike's side. His catharsis wore him out and he was
once again sleeping like the dead. Buffy winced at the horribly pun.
"Have you made any leeway in this Riley situation?" Giles asked.
So, the meeting has begun. She shook her head, "Not really. But
he's only made me more suspicious. I'm thinking of new and inventive
ways to get him to 'fess up. I just need a little time."
"Spike doesn't have the time."
Buffy sighed, "I know. You don't have to remind me. Just let me
sleep on a few ideas before the plan's set in stone, okay?"
Giles nodded, sensing Buffy's anxiety and worry. "How is he?"
"He's trying to be brave and be the Big Bad, but the truth is he's
scared."
"Well, that's understandable."
"I guess. But he's not the only one scared."
Spike was dreaming again. He did a lot more of that these days.
But this dream was different than the rest. It wasn't the dream
in the park. Hell, if you came down to it, it was more like a
nightmare.
He was in a room. A bright, white, bare room. He looked around,
seeing nothing but a white expanse in all directions, wondering
where he was.
"What the hell is going on?" he asked no one in particular, since
there was no one to ask.
Suddenly the room changed. It was no longer the bright, white, bare
room. It was now a dark, dense forest.
"What the fu-" he saw someone or something up ahead. He chased
after it. "Hey, wait up!"
The moving blob stopped. Spike moved closer, realizing the blob was
a human. The human turned to face him. It was Buffy. And she was
smiling at him. Spike couldn't help but smile back. He moved closer
but stopped a reasonable distance away. It was Buffy who closed the
distance between them. She was so close he could feel the heat from
her body seeping through her clothing. He ventured his eyes down to
look at her face. She moved her face up and their lips touched.
Though Spike was initially too shocked to do anything but let her
kiss him, he quickly recovered and the two of them were kissing
passionately.
Buffy gasped and pulled away all too soon. Spike's eyes fell to the
wooden stake protruding through her chest. His shocked, widened eyes
met hers for the last time before she crumbled into a pile of dust,
with her whispering her love for him. As the dust settled, Buffy's
murderer was revealed. Drusilla.
She smiled at her ex-lover. She put her finger to her lips in a
shushing manner. "Shh. Naughty."
Spike closed his eyes, hoping he'd be awake when he opened them.
He wasn't. When he did open them, Dru had moved beside him and she
was busy running her fingers through his bleach blond locks.
"You say you're not a bad dog, but you are. But it's too late for
you. The bad dog must be put down."
"What?"
Drusilla placed a hand over his eyes, "See."
When she moved her hand away, Spike found himself back in London
during the 1880s.
"What the hell?" Spike looked around the room he was in. Seemed
like he was in the middle of someone's wake. Whose? Spike cautiously
approached the coffin in the room. He peered inside and almost
jumped back in surprise. It was Spike. No, *William*.
"It's strange, isn't it?"
Spike looked at the woman who spoke. Cecily. Figures.
"What's strange?"
"To look in a coffin and see yourself laying there, sleeping the
eternal sleep. But I guess you didn't do that, huh?"
Spike shrugged nonchalantly. He wouldn't admit it to Cecily, but
it was disturbing. Strange, indeed.
"But you'll soon return to the eternal rest. Very soon." Cecily
looked at him, "You want to know if anyone will miss you when you're
gone, don't you?"
"I never asked anything of that sort."
Cecily shrugged, "You didn't have to. It's written on your face.
Plain as day."
Spike looked down at his feet, "Will they?"
"I'm sorry. I don't have the answer to that question."
Spike's eyes shot up, "Well, then, why did you bloody bring it up?"
Cecily looked at him calmly, not at all surprised by his out burst.
"All I can tell you is that your days are numbered. That is, unless
someone does something to prevent it from happening. I can also tell
you that you must get your words out to them. There's not much more
time for that either."
*****
Spike woke in an instant. He normally didn't believe in the
prophetic nature of dreams. But this one... *This* dream was unlike
any other he had before. He knew the dream was telling him something.
He knew deep down. Felt it in his gut. The dream told him he didn't
have much longer. And possibly even less to get his last words out to
Buffy. And the rest of the gang. He reached over to get his journal
from the table next to the bed and began to write as quickly as he could.
Before it was too late...
End Part 7
More A/N: That dream sequence didn't quite turn out like I was hoping.
I had this really cool idea but I couldn't get it turn out right on
paper... Anyhoo...
decided it would be cool if it crashed. And, as luck would have
it, I ended having to buy an entirely new system...
Part 7
Buffy sat on the sofa, watching the television, though she really
wasn't paying attention. It was late and she knew she should go
to bed, but she couldn't sleep. Her mind was in high gear. She
was almost one hundred percent certain Riley was here because of
Spike's terminating chip. His actions and behavior at the grave-
yard screamed that to her. But, like Giles told her, she couldn't
do anything until she had Riley's spoken confession. Perhaps it
was time to call 'actress Buffy.' Tell Riley about Spike and his
chip and pretend to be happy about it, although deep down inside,
she was hurting as much as Spike was, maybe even worse. She could
pretend. She did it before. With Spike. He believed she was
indeed his beloved Buffybot until he felt her lips on his. So,
yeah, she could pretend, act.
She sighed. That wasn't her only problem, though. There was also
the issue of her confused feelings for the vampire. Ask her one
year ago how she felt about Spike and she would have said, without
a doubt, she tolerated him at best. And about him dying? She simply
would have shrugged and said, 'so?' But now, things were different.
She now considered him, at least, a friend. And she feared his death.
After she was resurrected, Spike was the only one who didn't hover
and constantly ask if she was okay or if she needed anything. If
she wasn't okay or if she did need something, he'd wait till she
told him. And she did. She told him secrets she told no one else.
She confided in him. She grew to like him, more than tolerate him.
She never told him how much she appreciated the things he did. His
valiant attempt to rescue Dawn from Doc. She knew he felt guilty
for not being able to protect Dawn and, in the end, her. She knew
he blamed himself. He probably thought she blamed him as well.
She never did anything to prove otherwise, and she felt guilty for
that. She wanted to let him know it wasn't his fault; she didn't
blame him. No one blamed him.
She never told him how much his staying in Sunnydale to keep his
promise even after her death meant to her. He could have left
them all in a figurative heartbeat and never look back. Because,
after all, she was no longer around for him to try and impress.
That said a lot about him. He was devoted to her and Dawn and
his promise.
She sighed again. She knew she loved him; was in love with him.
She could no longer deny it to herself. But would she get the
chance to tell Spike before he...?
She couldn't think about it anymore. It was too much.
Buffy was awaken by a noise in the kitchen. She sat up, realizing
she fell asleep on the sofa. She sighed, rubbing her eyes, and
went into the kitchen. Dawn, Will, and Tara were up. Tara was
making pancakes for breakfast.
Dawn looked up from her geometry homework, "Hey, Buffy."
"Good morning," Buffy replied, sitting next to her sister.
"How was patrol last night?" Will asked.
"Oh, you know, same old, same old. 'Cept this time, Riley tried
to play hero. Like I can't defend myself."
Tara looked up from the stove, "Any ideas of if he knows about
Spike?"
Buffy shrugged, "I think he knows about the chip. Probably knows
Spike's here, too."
"How do you guess that?"
"He said he stopped by Spike's crypt and didn't see him there.
I tried pretending I didn't know where Spike was but I don't think
I came off quite convincing."
"Is this bad?" Dawn asked.
"I don't know. I doubt Riley will come marching in with a stake,
ready to dust him. I have a few ideas about how to be sure he
knows and everything. I just have to work through it all." She
got up and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a pack of blood
and preparing it for Spike.
Mug in hand, she looked at the girls, "How 'bout we set up a little
Scooby meeting here tonight and we'll discuss this,"
"Sure," Will nodded, "I'll tell Giles and Xander."
Buffy nodded and went upstairs.
Spike was rousing when she entered the room. He could smell the
blood. He was starving. His mouth watered in anticipation.
Buffy said down on the bed and handed him the mug.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Oh, well, you know..." Spike whispered something so quiet she
had to strain to hear it and even then, she couldn't entirely catch
it.
"What?" she asked, quietly.
Spike sighed and said, louder, "Scared. I'm scared. Are you happy
now? We finally found out what it takes to terrify William the Bloody.
Apparently it involves a little plastic and tiny wires." He dropped
his eyes to his lap, too ashamed of what he was feeling and maybe,
deep down, he was waiting for the Slayer to burst into bouts of
laughter.
But she didn't. Spike ventured his eyes up. She was looking at
him with such compassion and concern Spike was sure he was dreaming.
The look she gave him only happened in his dreams.
"Spike, why wouldn't you be scared? Of course, you're scared.
You're facing something no one, no vampire, no man, has ever had
to face. You're suppose to be immortal, never having to fear death,
but, all of a sudden, you're staring at your own mortality in the
face. You can't understand it. And therefore, you fear it. Spike,
\it's a natural *human* reaction. It doesn't make you weak."
Spike felt as if she had seen right through him. Tears pricked his
eyes and he rested his head against her chest, listening to her
mesmerizing heartbeat. Buffy wrapped her arms around him, kissing
his forehead. Comforted, Spike let his tears fall. Buffy felt tears
prick her eyes. She quickly pushed them back. She would not cry.
She could not cry. She had to be strong. For Spike. She would cry
later. Later when she was alone. Away from anyone who might see or
hear her.
Buffy settled on her couch, waiting for the Scooby meeting to begin.
She just left Spike's side. His catharsis wore him out and he was
once again sleeping like the dead. Buffy winced at the horribly pun.
"Have you made any leeway in this Riley situation?" Giles asked.
So, the meeting has begun. She shook her head, "Not really. But
he's only made me more suspicious. I'm thinking of new and inventive
ways to get him to 'fess up. I just need a little time."
"Spike doesn't have the time."
Buffy sighed, "I know. You don't have to remind me. Just let me
sleep on a few ideas before the plan's set in stone, okay?"
Giles nodded, sensing Buffy's anxiety and worry. "How is he?"
"He's trying to be brave and be the Big Bad, but the truth is he's
scared."
"Well, that's understandable."
"I guess. But he's not the only one scared."
Spike was dreaming again. He did a lot more of that these days.
But this dream was different than the rest. It wasn't the dream
in the park. Hell, if you came down to it, it was more like a
nightmare.
He was in a room. A bright, white, bare room. He looked around,
seeing nothing but a white expanse in all directions, wondering
where he was.
"What the hell is going on?" he asked no one in particular, since
there was no one to ask.
Suddenly the room changed. It was no longer the bright, white, bare
room. It was now a dark, dense forest.
"What the fu-" he saw someone or something up ahead. He chased
after it. "Hey, wait up!"
The moving blob stopped. Spike moved closer, realizing the blob was
a human. The human turned to face him. It was Buffy. And she was
smiling at him. Spike couldn't help but smile back. He moved closer
but stopped a reasonable distance away. It was Buffy who closed the
distance between them. She was so close he could feel the heat from
her body seeping through her clothing. He ventured his eyes down to
look at her face. She moved her face up and their lips touched.
Though Spike was initially too shocked to do anything but let her
kiss him, he quickly recovered and the two of them were kissing
passionately.
Buffy gasped and pulled away all too soon. Spike's eyes fell to the
wooden stake protruding through her chest. His shocked, widened eyes
met hers for the last time before she crumbled into a pile of dust,
with her whispering her love for him. As the dust settled, Buffy's
murderer was revealed. Drusilla.
She smiled at her ex-lover. She put her finger to her lips in a
shushing manner. "Shh. Naughty."
Spike closed his eyes, hoping he'd be awake when he opened them.
He wasn't. When he did open them, Dru had moved beside him and she
was busy running her fingers through his bleach blond locks.
"You say you're not a bad dog, but you are. But it's too late for
you. The bad dog must be put down."
"What?"
Drusilla placed a hand over his eyes, "See."
When she moved her hand away, Spike found himself back in London
during the 1880s.
"What the hell?" Spike looked around the room he was in. Seemed
like he was in the middle of someone's wake. Whose? Spike cautiously
approached the coffin in the room. He peered inside and almost
jumped back in surprise. It was Spike. No, *William*.
"It's strange, isn't it?"
Spike looked at the woman who spoke. Cecily. Figures.
"What's strange?"
"To look in a coffin and see yourself laying there, sleeping the
eternal sleep. But I guess you didn't do that, huh?"
Spike shrugged nonchalantly. He wouldn't admit it to Cecily, but
it was disturbing. Strange, indeed.
"But you'll soon return to the eternal rest. Very soon." Cecily
looked at him, "You want to know if anyone will miss you when you're
gone, don't you?"
"I never asked anything of that sort."
Cecily shrugged, "You didn't have to. It's written on your face.
Plain as day."
Spike looked down at his feet, "Will they?"
"I'm sorry. I don't have the answer to that question."
Spike's eyes shot up, "Well, then, why did you bloody bring it up?"
Cecily looked at him calmly, not at all surprised by his out burst.
"All I can tell you is that your days are numbered. That is, unless
someone does something to prevent it from happening. I can also tell
you that you must get your words out to them. There's not much more
time for that either."
*****
Spike woke in an instant. He normally didn't believe in the
prophetic nature of dreams. But this one... *This* dream was unlike
any other he had before. He knew the dream was telling him something.
He knew deep down. Felt it in his gut. The dream told him he didn't
have much longer. And possibly even less to get his last words out to
Buffy. And the rest of the gang. He reached over to get his journal
from the table next to the bed and began to write as quickly as he could.
Before it was too late...
End Part 7
More A/N: That dream sequence didn't quite turn out like I was hoping.
I had this really cool idea but I couldn't get it turn out right on
paper... Anyhoo...
