The Breath of Life- Part 6 of Song of Solomon Series. ("Like a lily among thorns, so is my loved one among the young women.")
by: Isabelle
Disclaimers: BTVS belongs to Joss Whedon along with all the characters--these are sued for entertainment.
Spoilers: "Smashed" and "Wrecked" Season 6 Summary: Set some fifty years after "Smashed", Spike died about seven months after the episode aired. Buffy being not truly human is more of an immortal; she's alone in this earth and her life does an 360 degree turn when she runs into Rocco in a bar one night. Rocco is somewhat the reincarnation of Spike's soul. B/S, some B/Rocco. Rating: Strong R
Distribution: Please do not take without my permission. The only sites that have my pre-approval to post my stuff is Carnal Sins (cause it's mine), Death-Marked Love, and any affiliate/soulmate of mine.
Rating: Strong R (I curse...get used to it.)
Feedback: bih80@yahoo.com
Author's notes: If you've read 100 yrs of Solitude and enjoyed it you will like this, think Spike in 100 yrs, reversed to Buffy. Special thanks to by Betas Allison and Marie-Claude Danis ;o)--they're wonderful *xoxoxox*
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He did it again! Stun her for what seemed like forever and all she could feel was the tingling sensation of blood running in her veins.
Her world seemed to make sense and shatter all at once.
With difficulty she tried to remember when was the last time someone had done something unselfish for her.
She peered down at the present sitting conspicuously on the steps of her back porch. She knew whom it was from before she even went near it.
The wrapping was twisted and sloppy, and the bow was falling apart. The card looked a bit bent and there were five cigarette butts by the steps signaling that it took a lot out of him to leave it there. He was not the yielding kind... not lately anyway.
She sighed and gave in. She knew he wasn't around or she would sense him, smell him even. It was disturbing how since their night together, his odor stuck to her like a second skin. She could smell him all over herself no matter how many baths she took. Not even the concentrated vanilla lotion took it away.
She reluctantly picked up the small box along with the card and sat down on the steps. She opened the card and almost smiled at his choice of stationary: two small cherubs hugging and drifting in mid-air, the top decorated with a festive 'Season's Greetings'.
She opened the card and was surprised to find his handwriting was nice and scripted, complementing the paper.
Dear Buffy,
No, that's wrong.
Buffy... no, Slayer. Sorry, I'm nervous, I've never done this before. Dru just liked to be shagged senseless and feed a pretty little girl, but I'm sure you don't want to heard about that. Right then, this is a bleedin' Christmas present. You know the drill.
I wanted to tell you many things but I know you wouldn't listen. I could've written them but you'd rip up the letter so I'm just going to repeat what I've been telling you for almost a year.
I love you. You know I do and I know you don't want to hear it anymore. I know we parted in really bad terms and you've been avoiding me like the plague, but that won't stop me from loving you.
So Merry Christmas, pet. I hope to see soon.
All my love,
Spike
Buffy folded the letter and bit her lip. Now she felt really bad, because although they could just fuck like there was no tomorrow, she knew he had a sweet side, one she had had the chance to see often.
Ripping away the Christmas paper of mice dressed in Santa outfits, she looked down at the white box in her hands. She lifted the lid to reveal her present.
It wasn't jewelry, or clothes, or anything fancy. And it was the last thing she expected to get from an evil vampire.
A journal. A beautiful journal, gold lined sheets and the same cherubs from the card adorning the cover. She ran her fingers over the art with exquisite care and brought it to her chest.
She felt something fall from the journal. She looked down at the floor and saw a white piece of paper. She picked it up curiously and opened it.
It was a certified bank transfer for $3,000.
She blinked once and then twice, before recognizing the signature. William Richardson IV.
Spike had given her money, money to pay off the overdue house bills and the phone company that was about to cut them off, money to buy Dawn some presents and money to do some groceries.
She looked up as tears ran down her face. This was probably all the money he had saved. And although she needed it desperately, she couldn't take it from him. Giles's money had covered the plumbing bill and the rest of the repairs, but there was still insurance and car payments...
She stood up and called his name. She knew he didn't want thanks, she knew he would disappear not letting her return the gift, she knew that she wouldn't see him for days and she knew he didn't want to take the credit for this. She knew he didn't expect anything from her, not even sex or an occasional thank you. He just wanted her to have it. His way of easing her troubles.
Which made finding him even more important.
Without further thought she raced into the night towards his crypt.
She found it empty. He seemed to have packed up and all that was left was a small envelope on top of his TV. She quickly opened it.
I knew she would come to find me so I left for a couple of days and before you say it you're welcome.
With all my love,
Spike
"No one's done something this nice for me in a long time a couple of decades maybe," she said, smiling.
Rocco smiled inspite of the sadness he felt. "When I first found out I was dying, I was upset I didn't want to die, and if I stopped lying to myself I would admit that I still don't."
She sat next to him.
"I don't think anyone is ever ready to die," she told him quietly. Looking over at him, she couldn't help the small rush of excitement that went through her when she thought that in a few days it wouldn't be Rocco but Spike she would be with. "The place where one goes when one dies" She closed her eyes, remembering. "It's too wonderful for words Such peace and tranquility like you want to stay there forever and you do."
He smiled down at her. "Can you do me a favor?"
She brightened up. "Anything."
He took out a letter from his coat pocket. "Can you give this to my girlfriend? Her name is Dionne. She lives in England She knows what's happening but I would still like her to have it. We thought it better to separate it would be easier on her."
Buffy nodded in understanding. It frightened her sometimes how comfortable she was with death. But death had shaped her for so long that it almost enveloped her.
"My parents they know. I said my good-byes before I found you." He took a deep breath. "If you drop by sometime at 1239 Rockefeller Drive, my mother would gladly serve you a bloody wonderful cuppa tea," he said, smiling, and Buffy could had sworn that she saw tears forming in his eyes.
He looked at her. "The ritual has to be done before the sun sets completely" He looked at her. "Time to get Spike back."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``
Buffy gasped when she saw him walk out of their makeshift bathroom.
His hair well it was bleached. She had to remind herself that this was not Spike not yet.
"I thought it might be better this way and can I just say that this stuff stings! I mean, ouch!"
Buffy smiled sympathetically at him.
"Why do you keep on doing it if it stings so much?" she asked him as she wrapped his head with a shower cap.
Spike glared at her in the mirror that didn't reflect him.
"It's all part of the persona, Slayer. The Big Bad image," he explained.
She went around him, shed her gloves, and grabbed a damp cloth from the counter.
"The Big Bad persona?" she asked skeptically as she cleaned his ears, which were wet with peroxide.
"Um Slayer what are you doing?" Spike asked as she wet his ear and made him squirm. She held his face still.
"You have peroxide all over Don't your ears ever sting?" she asked, making sure they were all clean.
"I always wondered why that was," Spike said in realization and Buffy couldn't help but laugh.
"You're a big kid, you know that?, A one-hundred-and-something year old kid."
Without warning he picked her up by the waist and placed her on top of the bathroom sink. He stood between her spread legs.
She arched into him as he kissed from her collarbone to her shoulder, and when with his fingers he removed the thin shirt strap. Her breast spilled free.
"I love it when you don't wear a bra," he murmured against her skin and all Buffy could do was whimper as he sucked roughly on her very erect nipple.
"Spike," she whispered in desperation. "You'd love me if I wore a petticoats and smelled like whale fat."
She grabbed his shoulders and brought his face to hers, finding his lips hungrily.
His hands went everywhere along with hers. Exploring the territories they knew well. She didn't care that the faucet was digging into her back, all that mattered was the rocketing ache between her thighs.
Spike pressed his erection to her clit, almost biting his tongue off when he felt the wetness through her panties. Whose idea had it been to do his hair in their underwear? Oh, right his.
He grinned. He had bloody great ideas if you asked him.
Her hips bucked up earning her a sharp groan when she felt his dick against her thin thong.
"Now would be good," she cried as he pulled back and bit the inside of her thigh, successfully ripping off her silk thong.
"Yes," she whimpered under his ministrations, so he did it again. She cried out in pleasure.
Grinning evilly, he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, dropping the towel which was the only thing between nudist Spike and semi-nudist Spike.
She grabbed his shoulders and threw her head back as he slid into her already slick core. He gasped for breath as he started the rhythm, and kissed her shoulder.
Buffy leaned forward and took one of his hard nipples between her teeth, biting into it and making him shudder.
She kissed his cool neck, his mouth; a sea of kisses, licks and bites. Neither Spike nor Buffy knew exactly when they reached their peak; all they knew is that they were left panting and gasping for air. She was still clutching at him when she realized she was still in this world. Softly he pried her legs from his waist and winced at the bruises they were going to leave. She saw his marred skin and bit her lip in guilt.
"I'm sorry, baby," she said, softly touching the skin that would soon turn black and blue.
He shrugged. "I'll wear them proudly like scars of battle."
She smiled and kissed him again, realizing he still had his shower cap — hair full of peroxide.
"Spike?"
"Hmm" he murmured, snuggling her warm neck.
"You still have your cap on" she said, giggling.
"Oh bloody hell!"
"You didn't leave it on for too long, did you?" she asked as she stood up and crossed the room. "I happen to know that if you leave it too long the hair kinda fritzes."
"Fritzes?" Rocco asked, smiling. "Damn Ah well. Let your boy deal with it then."
A wave of both happiness and sadness shot through her.
"I don't think I've ever felt so happy and so sad at the same time," Buffy told him as they walked out the door.
He stopped and looked at her. "Happiness is all that you should be feeling, pet,."
She looked up at him. "Should it?"
He took a deep breath and leaned forward, pressing his lips against her forehead. "I've made my choice for some time now and I have no regrets You shouldn't either."
Buffy nodded. "Everyone should have a choice in how they die I know I did both times."
He chuckled at her comment and urged her out the door.
"We must leave now if we wish to start the ritual today The next window in the lunar eclipse will be in three months," Dolores told them as she exited the house with a young girl, her assistant, carrying potions, blankets and some medallions.
"I have three months left, therefore we must do it tonight," Rocco said softly. Buffy saw his desperate statement and took his arm, pulling him to the car. She hadn't realized how thin his arm was She had been so fixated on how much he looked like Spike that she had failed to see the dark shadows under Rocco's eyes.
It was a sad moment for her. As they entered the limousine and drove to the ancient temple which Dolores said would be the place of death and resurrection. Buffy held on to Rocco's arm as if he would disappear. It crossed her mind several times that in a few days it would be Spike's hand she would be holding. But there was still confusion and a lot of mixed emotions.
His hand was warm and though it scorched her she didn't pull away. The least she could do was to give him the support he needed in his last moments.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She felt the magic of the place seep into her skin.
Rocco had showed the border guard a pass – something Buffy was not about to question – and they had crossed the border without incidents.
They were in the middle of nowhere but in the center of everything. The mountains were a few miles from were they were, and the ground was brick red with an occasional cactus here and there.
"This is La Nube Roja the red cloud. It's the ancient land of my people Here rituals of the most obscurity were made. The place is a home for many magicks including myself," Dolores said as they entered the deserted temple.
The temple was about two stories high with a shaky roof and no left wall. There were three columns of red granite rock carved with ancient demons and rituals of the old Mayan.
Buffy saw what she would call writing on the pillars. A large demon served as a warning The whole place gave her chills.
The floor was dirty, filled with debris and the red earth that surrounded them. There were small creatures living in the dark corners of the main room. There was one large stone altar It looked like an ancient gurney, a place of sacrifice.
"El portal de el infierno, the portal of hell. Where the lost souls were sent and brought back. In ancient times demons were exorcised from the living here sent to the netherworld were they couldn't come back. Also the place where demons were brought forth, to plague invading armies or to kill a deserving person," she explained as she settled her things down.
Buffy was almost hiding behind Rocco; there was something in this place that made the Slayer hum with desperation.
Dolores smiled at her and nodded. "The spirit of the Slayer disapproves of this place. You'll not feel comfortable until you let yourself be one with it."
Buffy nodded reluctantly. "I should meditate."
Paula, Dolores' assistant, helped set up a curtained room so Rocco could change.
As they did, Buffy walked to the back of the old building and found a small room with no west wall. She could see the setting of the sun clearly. The cloudless sky matched the red ground and it was cloudless.
Buffy shed her coat and sat cross-legged on a large flat stone. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her surroundings.
Within moments she was completely relaxed and hearing things she couldn't hear before. She could hear voices. Far off voices like gentle screams and cries.
I know you
Slayer
Help me
Oh god
You're not welcomed here
Buffy awoke gasping and trembling. Her entire being shook as if she wasn't getting any air. She jumped off the rock and looked around She knew what this was.
She ran back inside. Buffy found Rocco walking out in his robe and Dolores finishing lighting up the twelve candles around the altar.
"It's a closed hellmouth!" she cried.
Dolores turned to her and nodded.
"We're standing on a closed hellmouth! Do you realize what can happen when you summon it open?"
Dolores motioned for Rocco to take his place.
"I can't fight all those demons!" the Slayer told her.
"You won't have to — I'm not opening it to retrieve anything that it doesn't want to give away," Dolores answered her with her usual calm.
Buffy bit her lip but decided to trust the wise woman. She saw Rocco shed his robe, leaving him naked to the world.
She felt a flush creep from her toes to the tips of her hairs and he laid on the cold altar, shivering.
Slowly she walked to him, watching him lying there with his eyes closed. It was almost as if Spike was there. She was seeing him and again she thanked her acquired selfcontrol for not letting her throw herself completely on top of him.
"You know..." he said. "I'm no longer scared."
She smiled a watery smile before bending down and placing her lips against his. Buffy quickly pulled away and looked into those familiar blue eyes.
"You won't forget what I asked of you, luv?" he asked, his voice a bit thick. She shook her head. "Tell him something for me, will you pet?"
"Anything."
He smiled and closed his eyes. "Tell him... tell him to forgive you... like you forgave him long ago."
She really did try to stop the tears from coming but she couldn't. The only thing that guided her were the loving arms that took a hold of her gently from behind and pulled her through the curtain.
"I must be alone with him," Dolores told her.
Buffy curled herself up in a small ball and waited for the ritual to be over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is it, he told himself. He took a deep breath to calm his trembling nerves.
Rocco had lived his life to be a good lad. He respected his father and his mother, loved his peers, was good at soccer and polo... well he was bloody marvelous at polo! He had won various championships in his youth. Made all the ladies flock to him... His looks didn't hurt either.
There had been many girls. But Dionne had won his heart when he was nineteen. Why? Well she hadn't given him the time of day. She had ignored him and her wild red hair that curled in tight ringlets had made him want to yank it off. He had thought he hated her, with her fiery tongue truly inappropriate for
upper English society, and her manner of dressed frowned upon by all.
She was a regular tart in his opinion. But it had all changed one day when he was walking home from a polo practice and it had started pouring. He had no overcoat or umbrella.
Needles to say he was soaked. And the last person whom he thought he'd run into was Dionne, ridding her motorbike.
She stopped her vehicle next to him and all he could was cringe.
She smiled at him, her damn red curls sticking to her wet face.
"You don't like me, do you?" she asked, smiling.
He reluctantly looked at her.
"To be perfectly honest, I don't, luv," Rocco replied.
"Rockford Pickering... heir to god knows how much money, star polo player for Harrow, most eligible bachelor under twenty-five and the jewel to his mother's eye. Tell me, Lord Pickering, why is a man like yourself interested in whether or not I wear my hair down in tea parties?"
He narrowed his eyes to try to hide to blush from his cheeks. "You're quite straight forward, aren't you?"
She smiled radiantly at him and he couldn't help but smile back instantly.
"Well..." she said after a long silence.
"Well," he said back. His hair was dripping. So was hers.
"Well, Rocco -- ain't you gonna hop on?"
"Rocco?" he asked with a scowl.
"Rockford sounds like a gray suit. You don't strike me as that kind of guy."
His parents always blamed Dionne for his change after that. They had loved each other for five years before he had been diagnosed with cancer.
It had been too late.
They had traveled to the States to find a good doctor. But Rocco had grown tired of the poking and prodding.
They were running in circles and he had decided to accept his fate.
As he closed his eyes, the light around him engulfed him. This was it. When he had called Dionne to let her know what he was doing, he could hear the pride in her voice.
He asked her to forgive him.
"Love means never having to say you're sorry, preppy," she told him, quoting her favorite movie.
So he wasn't.
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Buffy woke up with a start and she knew... The moment she opened her eyes she knew Rocco had died. She sat up in the small curtained room and wrapped a discarded blanket around herself. She watched from the corner of her eye the last rays of the sun sink to the west.
The ritual should have begun. She took one shaky breath and prayed silently for Spike's safe return.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He didn't know how long he had been rocking back and forth. He didn't know why his skin felt as if it might fall off, scorched. All he knew is that something had changed.
Changed from the monotonous rhythms that had entranced him for thousands of days and eternal nights... He felt a presence.
He knew it was it his dreams, he had seen her. She had come to him and he knew it, he felt it in his ashed bones.
But now... it was different somehow. He felt powers silently calling him. Begging him to come with them.
After thousands of days kneeling in the corner of solitude, he stood up. His legs were still strong and he realized wearily that he must be in his spiritual state.
He silently cursed.
One feet in front of the other he walked. He didn't know why he was walking or where he was headed or whom beckoned his presence. But he had to walk.
He walked through the large cave into the eerie orange light of the pits.
The heat hit him like a thousand waves. He felt like he was — burning, inflamed. He desperately grasped at his skin, preventing it from falling off. When he looked down he saw that is was still there, but the pain was as real as ever. He grit his teeth and continued walking, faster, wanting to get out of this scorching death.
He walked until there was only a wall in front of him and without Thinking, he walked right through it. He let out an agonized scream as he crossed over to the other side, unable to contain the pain in his skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy's head shot up as she heard the scream.
Her body froze in place as she recognized it.
Spike.
She jumped to her feet and quickly pulled the curtain. Dolores was trying to hold down a screaming Spike. There were tear tracks down his face and his entire nude body was lifted off the stone.
His veins were enlarged and she could clearly see them on his arms, legs and neck. His eyes were shut and he was moving his head back and forth and he continued to scream in pain.
Buffy quickly ran to them and looked at Dolores for answers. "What's happening to him?" she screamed above the vampire's cries.
"He's feeling the fires of hell -- it's all in his mind but it feels real him. We must make him understand that he's no longer there," she cried.
Buffy nodded and quickly grabbed both of his shoulders, forcing him down.
She used all of her strength and he still lifted himself off. He was sobbing loudly and bucking up and down. She could see blood trickling from his hands as his short nails dug into his palms. His mouth spurted blood from biting his tongue.
"Oh god! Help him!" she cried to the older woman.
"I can't help him! He must realize he's here and not there!"
Buffy quickly walked around him and held his arms down to prevent him from hurting himself. She straddled his hips and pushed herself down on him. She nestled her face into his neck and began to softly lick his skin and then blow soft puffs of air on it, replacing the warm air with peppered kisses.
"Hmm... I love it when you do that..." he said lazily.
She smiled into his neck and did it again. Softly she licked a patch of skin, leaving it wet and warm, then blew gently over it, sending shivers down his spine and finishing it off with soft warm kisses that made his chest do a funny rumbling sound.
She giggled lazily and did the small act again.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead when she finished.
"Gonna have to contract you for life... be my lick-puff-and-kiss slave," he joked.
She laughed. "Oh, what a terrible way to spend eternity!"
She felt him get serious before he even spoke.
"Would you?" he asked, not meeting her eyes.
"Would I what? Be your love slave for all eternity?" she joked but she could see the seriousness in his eyes.
She wasn't ready to deal with that part of their relationship just yet.
He quickly changed the subject. "So," he fingered her short hair. "You cut your hair."
No sooner had she finished to pepper the kisses his entire form went limp. She pulled back tentatively and looked down at his face.
There were dried tear marks on his cheeks and she reached out to soothed them away.
It was no longer Rocco. The hardness of Spike had possessed the body... even his eyes seemed lighter as he slowly opened them.
She took in a large gulp of air as their eyes met. He blinked once. He blinked twice. And then he closed them again.
He fell asleep instantly.
Buffy pouted slightly, a bit annoyed. She had imagined their first meeting to be differently.
Dolores placed her arms on her back and gently rubbed. "He'll need sleep. He might sleep for days. You should get rest too, niña."
Buffy shook her head and got off the nude vampire. "I'm staying with him until he wakes up."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Day 1
He slept. Only woke up to drink blood and he was in vamp face when he did. His eyes were closed as he gulped slowly.
Buffy caressed his hair, encouraging him to drink.
He drank two pints.
Day 2
He slept. Woke up twice and drank the blood with much more eagerness. His eyes opened twice but there were blank and expressionless.
The blazing yellow eyes never seemed alarmed, but there was no recognition in them. It made her look away.
She kissed his forehead when he
was finished.
Day 3
He slept and had nightmares. In his nightmares he cried out but never a name or words, just cries that only quieted when Buffy licked, blew and kissed his neck.
He drank blood three times that
day and opened his eyes twice. Buffy could've sworn that she saw
a spark of recognition but he quickly closed them and dozed off
again.
Day 4
Buffy slept for the first time in three days. She slept soundly and peacefully, her hand resting lightly on his. She didn't wake up until late afternoon when Dolores begged her to shower and eat. She did.
The cold water of the mountains made her shiver and tremble. She wanted so much to feel warm. She hadn't felt warm in a long time...
She quickly dressed again to find Dolores happily crushing some herbs into Spike's nightly cup of blood.
The old woman looked up as Buffy entered.
"Have a seat, hermana. "
Buffy hesitated. "I shouldn't leave Spike for too long..."
"Have a seat," she said again, this time stronger.
Buffy complied and humored the woman. She felt restless, desperate to be somewhere else.
"It is time for him to wake up"
Buffy instantly rose.
"Sit!" Dolores commanded.
The Slayer obeyed.
"He will need you to be at your strongest. Though you feel tired... find it within your spirit to be his strength. He might feel...inadequate. But above all he will feel guilt. He will beg you to send him back to the place he thinks he deserves... You must be the strength."
Buffy watched as Dolores dropped the last of the herbs in the large brown indigenous cup. The old woman lifted the cup and offered it to Buffy.
"Make him drink all of it, and though the taste it bitter, it will help him get his strength back."
Buffy nodded and took the cup.
Dolores sensed something in the air and closed her eyes.
"He will rise shortly... Go to him."
The Slayer moved quickly, pushing the curtains to the side and finding herself in his makeshift chamber.
She gasped. The cloth that had covered his body had been taken off. He laid naked, with small painting on his body. There were lines and pictures, showing warrior figures. His face was painted with red brick lines like a Mayan warrior. There were candles on the four corners of his body, lit and melting. On his thighs were herbs, thin leafed herbs that looked like needles, all pointing south.
She walked slowly up to him, watching his entire body as it lay silent and still. His chest didn't move at all, his eyes were closed, no rapid eye movement... just complete peace.
She studied his body. The tip of his toes, which were long and elegant, pale with thin black hairs. She smiled as she reminded herself that she had to trim them.
Her gaze followed his calves and their perfectly rounded shape. Upper thighs that held between them dark nesting curls with a large beautiful member.
She sighed in relief. It was perfectly Spike's size.
She felt him stir. Every other nights he had woken up screaming and disoriented, but she felt it in her bones, how this night might be different.
His movements were more fluid, his muscles more human.
She moved until she was standing by his head.
And then it happened.
She had told herself that was ready. She had told herself that she could do this. But now more than anything she understood why Dolores had told her she was to summon her inner strength.
Because at that moment, when he opened his eyes and looked at her, recognition shining through his blue eyes, she almost fell back.
"Buffy?" the soft voice asked. He was terrified, she could feel it in her bones.
She smiled immediately.
"Welcome home," she whispered.
He looked at her questioningly. "How long was I asleep?"
She took a deep breath and took a seat next to him, placing the warm blood between her hands.
"Spike..."
But he saw it in her eyes before she said it.
"I died," he finished for her.
There was pain in her eyes... pain and shadows of many things he had never seen before. He almost felt like a stranger was sitting with him.
"Yes... you died," she replied, her eyes filling with tears.
He pushed himself off the slab, Buffy rushing to help him. He sat, rubbing his sore neck.
His eyes met hers again. "How long... how long have I been dead?"
She avoided the question by shoving the cup of blood at him. He took it gratefully, gulping it down hungrily. She reached out tentatively and ran her hand through his short bleached hair, encouraging him to calm his thirsting demon.
When he finished he licked his upper lip and looked at her questioningly.
"You didn't give me a bloody soul... did you?" he asked, almost afraid.
She had to laugh at that. "No... I didn't give you a fucking soul."
The curse had just slipped from her lips and she instantly regretted it. His eyebrow shot up and he looked at her in confusion.
"Buffy?" He took a deep breath and finally took in her face. She had scars. Lots of them. One under her eye, one under her lip, one over her left brow. A nasty one on her collarbone. And her hair... The last he remembered she had it down to her shoulders. Her blond hair was now down to her waist, some of it curled in dreads. "How long have I been gone?"
Buffy tried to smile but failed. "Fifty years... You've been dead for fifty years," she said quietly.
He looked at her like she had lost her mind.
"I'm... I'm immortal... Stayed twenty-four well, forever." She took a deep breath.
He looked like he was going to be sick.
"It's okay, Spike... I've learned to deal with it," she said softly, trying to calm him down.
Spike nodded absently.
"It's going to take some time... but we'll be fine. We can work this through..." she tried.
Spike shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. "Buffy..." he interrupted her. "Where's Dawn?"
Buffy gaped at him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC.....