Spike paced in the training room of the Magic Box, grumbling to himself.
He needed to be alone. He didn't want a soul, he didn't want to be this
Bridge. He liked who he was. He had changed so much already, he didn't
know if he could handle a soul -- just the thought of being reduced to his
pathetic ponce of a grandsire.
He had killed countless people, and enjoyed every minute of it -- before
he was chipped. He didn't feel bad about it; he didn't regret his actions. But
even he didn't know if he could do it again. He was a monster, true. But
before, people were just food. Fodder. Now he lived among them. He loved
two of them, his slayer and his Niblet. And he dared call the Scoobies his
friends, though they would probably pale at that idea.
Sod it. He was still who he was. A bleedin' soul wasn't going to change
that.
His internal tirade was interrupted when Buffy opened the door.
"It's time."
///
Buffy and Spike sat, facing each other, in the middle of a chalk circle
drawn on the floor. Candles illuminated the room, smoke from incense hung
thick in the air. They stared into each other's eyes, concentrating on one
another.
"Take her hand, and stand, both of you." Willow commanded, from the
sidelines, where she and Giles stood, ready to do the ritual.
Spike did as he was told, helping the Slayer to her feet. The touch of her
warm skin on his thrilled him as always, leaving his senses tingling.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, resting his
forehead on her shoulder. Willow had told him he would know when the time
was right, that the magic would take control.
He knew Buffy was nervous; her heart hammered in her chest, her breath came
in little gasps. He rubbed his hand in small circles on the small of her
back, attempting to calm her.
"Aether, we summon thee, come forth for the Child of Light, and witness
this blessed event." Giles spoke.
"Hecate, we summon thee, come forth for the Child of the Night, and witness
this blessed event." Willow spoke, her voice raising, blending with the
echoes of the Watcher's words.
The air in the room thickened. Spike could taste it. His own unneeded
breath sped up; if his heart beat, it would have matched the pace of Buffy's.
Together, the Watcher and the witch continued.
"Kastor and Polydeukes, we summon thee, to bind these warriors, one of
darkness, one of light. Bind her soul to him, make them one."
The room crackled with energy. A swirling greenish light flared up around
the vampire and the Slayer, tendrils of green licking their forms like flames.
"By the blood they shall be bound. By the blood they shall be bound..."
Spike suddenly could no longer hear the chanting. Buffy's blood sang out
to him, calling him. He felt his face change, bones shifting as the demon
came forth. Panting, he pulled his head up, and looked into her eyes. She
stared back at him, fear glistening in her gaze.
"Do it."
Whether or not it was Buffy who spoke, Spike couldn't tell. But he obeyed,
bending to her throat. He licked her skin gently, savoring its taste, before
sinking his fangs into her golden flesh. The blood immediately spilled into
his mouth, Slayer blood, ambrosia. He drank greedily, suckling her neck. Pure
light. It tasted like light.
His body weakened, and he sank to his knees, still holding her, drinking
her, caught in a half swoon. He moaned against her throat. The first
Slayer he had drunk from had been nothing like this. This was energy, love,
pleasure and pain, pure emotion. She burned him from the inside out,
filling him, tearing him apart and rebuilding him from nothing. She swam
through his dead veins, giving him life, filling him with the light of her
being. His heart throbbed in time with hers, his dead heart beating for
the first time in over a hundred and fifty years, before it stilled once
again.
He pulled his head back, the demon retreating, still clutching her
shuddering form to his chest. His muscles slowly went limp, and he fell
backward, moaning.
Voices whispered in his head. The room crumbled away to nothing, and he
floated in a void. Light flooded his vision, but he wasn't afraid of it. It
was warm, like a mother's arms, enfolding him, protecting him.
Drusilla danced suddenly before him in flashing frames, moving closer. She
was before him and far away, and her voice whispered to him.
"You are the Bridge, my William. Don't let them bleed you."
And she was gone.
People suddenly surrounded him, millions of people. Their hands reaching
for him. Before they vanished as well.
The feeling changed. The warmth became pain, burning, searing. A
beautiful woman appeared, her form huge, screaming in rage and hate. Flames
leapt up between them, and he shied back.
"The Darkness is coming, Bridge. I am coming. The night sings for blood,"
the woman said, her voice terrible and full of evil even he wasn't capable of.
"Your blood." the void wavered.
"Spike!"
His eyes flashed open, the real world returning with a crash.
Giles and Willow stood over him, peering down. The witch was shaking him.
"Bloody....hell..." he managed to gasp, his eyes wide and wild, as the
guilt and remorse of all that he had done flooded over him.
He struggled with it for a moment, forgetting about Giles and Willow, not
seeking to question about the Slayer, just trying to come to terms with it all.
He was a strong man, a stronger monster. He wouldn't become the brooding ponce.
It's the past, it's the past, he repeated to himself, clenching his fists so hard
his nails bit into the flesh of his palms. The face of everyone he had ever
killed floated before him, one at a time, taunting him. He lost track of time
as he whispered an apology to each one, mentally absolving himself. For now,
at least. He had to get control. He couldn't break down, not now, not when
things had to be done. Not ever.
The past was the past. Worrying about it, brooding over it, wouldn't
change a thing. His actions now were what mattered. He could still be who
he was, still be the Big Bad.
He finally returned to himself again, looking up at the worried faces of
Red, Giles and his Slayer. He smiled a little, and forced his head up
slightly.
"Sorry." he told them all, and fell back into darkness.
///
He needed to be alone. He didn't want a soul, he didn't want to be this
Bridge. He liked who he was. He had changed so much already, he didn't
know if he could handle a soul -- just the thought of being reduced to his
pathetic ponce of a grandsire.
He had killed countless people, and enjoyed every minute of it -- before
he was chipped. He didn't feel bad about it; he didn't regret his actions. But
even he didn't know if he could do it again. He was a monster, true. But
before, people were just food. Fodder. Now he lived among them. He loved
two of them, his slayer and his Niblet. And he dared call the Scoobies his
friends, though they would probably pale at that idea.
Sod it. He was still who he was. A bleedin' soul wasn't going to change
that.
His internal tirade was interrupted when Buffy opened the door.
"It's time."
///
Buffy and Spike sat, facing each other, in the middle of a chalk circle
drawn on the floor. Candles illuminated the room, smoke from incense hung
thick in the air. They stared into each other's eyes, concentrating on one
another.
"Take her hand, and stand, both of you." Willow commanded, from the
sidelines, where she and Giles stood, ready to do the ritual.
Spike did as he was told, helping the Slayer to her feet. The touch of her
warm skin on his thrilled him as always, leaving his senses tingling.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, resting his
forehead on her shoulder. Willow had told him he would know when the time
was right, that the magic would take control.
He knew Buffy was nervous; her heart hammered in her chest, her breath came
in little gasps. He rubbed his hand in small circles on the small of her
back, attempting to calm her.
"Aether, we summon thee, come forth for the Child of Light, and witness
this blessed event." Giles spoke.
"Hecate, we summon thee, come forth for the Child of the Night, and witness
this blessed event." Willow spoke, her voice raising, blending with the
echoes of the Watcher's words.
The air in the room thickened. Spike could taste it. His own unneeded
breath sped up; if his heart beat, it would have matched the pace of Buffy's.
Together, the Watcher and the witch continued.
"Kastor and Polydeukes, we summon thee, to bind these warriors, one of
darkness, one of light. Bind her soul to him, make them one."
The room crackled with energy. A swirling greenish light flared up around
the vampire and the Slayer, tendrils of green licking their forms like flames.
"By the blood they shall be bound. By the blood they shall be bound..."
Spike suddenly could no longer hear the chanting. Buffy's blood sang out
to him, calling him. He felt his face change, bones shifting as the demon
came forth. Panting, he pulled his head up, and looked into her eyes. She
stared back at him, fear glistening in her gaze.
"Do it."
Whether or not it was Buffy who spoke, Spike couldn't tell. But he obeyed,
bending to her throat. He licked her skin gently, savoring its taste, before
sinking his fangs into her golden flesh. The blood immediately spilled into
his mouth, Slayer blood, ambrosia. He drank greedily, suckling her neck. Pure
light. It tasted like light.
His body weakened, and he sank to his knees, still holding her, drinking
her, caught in a half swoon. He moaned against her throat. The first
Slayer he had drunk from had been nothing like this. This was energy, love,
pleasure and pain, pure emotion. She burned him from the inside out,
filling him, tearing him apart and rebuilding him from nothing. She swam
through his dead veins, giving him life, filling him with the light of her
being. His heart throbbed in time with hers, his dead heart beating for
the first time in over a hundred and fifty years, before it stilled once
again.
He pulled his head back, the demon retreating, still clutching her
shuddering form to his chest. His muscles slowly went limp, and he fell
backward, moaning.
Voices whispered in his head. The room crumbled away to nothing, and he
floated in a void. Light flooded his vision, but he wasn't afraid of it. It
was warm, like a mother's arms, enfolding him, protecting him.
Drusilla danced suddenly before him in flashing frames, moving closer. She
was before him and far away, and her voice whispered to him.
"You are the Bridge, my William. Don't let them bleed you."
And she was gone.
People suddenly surrounded him, millions of people. Their hands reaching
for him. Before they vanished as well.
The feeling changed. The warmth became pain, burning, searing. A
beautiful woman appeared, her form huge, screaming in rage and hate. Flames
leapt up between them, and he shied back.
"The Darkness is coming, Bridge. I am coming. The night sings for blood,"
the woman said, her voice terrible and full of evil even he wasn't capable of.
"Your blood." the void wavered.
"Spike!"
His eyes flashed open, the real world returning with a crash.
Giles and Willow stood over him, peering down. The witch was shaking him.
"Bloody....hell..." he managed to gasp, his eyes wide and wild, as the
guilt and remorse of all that he had done flooded over him.
He struggled with it for a moment, forgetting about Giles and Willow, not
seeking to question about the Slayer, just trying to come to terms with it all.
He was a strong man, a stronger monster. He wouldn't become the brooding ponce.
It's the past, it's the past, he repeated to himself, clenching his fists so hard
his nails bit into the flesh of his palms. The face of everyone he had ever
killed floated before him, one at a time, taunting him. He lost track of time
as he whispered an apology to each one, mentally absolving himself. For now,
at least. He had to get control. He couldn't break down, not now, not when
things had to be done. Not ever.
The past was the past. Worrying about it, brooding over it, wouldn't
change a thing. His actions now were what mattered. He could still be who
he was, still be the Big Bad.
He finally returned to himself again, looking up at the worried faces of
Red, Giles and his Slayer. He smiled a little, and forced his head up
slightly.
"Sorry." he told them all, and fell back into darkness.
///