Title: Going Home (New Life- pt 15)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.
Summary: What can I say? Buffy and Spike finally find each other again.
Going Home
The wind stopped. The spinning world was silent. Empty. Cold. A shiver shot down her back making her entire body convulse against the cold walls around her. Everything hurt. Her head, her arms, her hands, her legs, her belly was ripping apart. She shuddered again, cold sweat rushing down her neck, mixing with the blood, washing in crimson rivers down her spine.
Buffy let her eyes flutter open. Blackness. Cold, black, emptiness.
Nothing. The world, every world, was gone. She was too tired to cry.
Instead, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. At least in her mind she had something left to hold on to.
*****
The run to the cemetery from the schoolyard seemed to last forever. Trees flew past along with cars, dogs, mailboxes. Breathing was inconvenient, as was the explosive rhythm in his chest. No time for this. Can play 'Wonders of Anatomy' when I find Buffy, he thought. Not now. Home.
Spike almost fell, he turned so fast through the cemetery gates. Half of him was still expecting to see two headstones. One larger, one smaller. The stronger half kept running. Needing to get home. To wait for her there.
The door. He could see it. Only a few more steps. His legs were burning, but he kept moving, his hands meeting with the thick wood of the door, barging through as she had so many times before. Sunlight flooded the room and he stopped dead.
His crypt was exactly how he left it. The TV, the books, the fridge. There was no dust. No cobwebs. No new residents. She had been here. Regularly, from the looks of things. Her smell flooded him. Lavender and jasmine and honeysuckle whirling together, smacking into him. He had left her there alone. The realization was ripping his beating heart in two.
"Buffy?" Spike called out, stepping further into the crypt. "Buffy? You here, Pet? Please answer me."
Her smell was everywhere. Every inch of every wall. Every plank, every
cushion, every rug. Spike began to walk along the edges of the room,
feeling the cold stone trail beneath his fingertips. Nothing. He lit a
candle he found by the door. It was half melted. Time to get a new one, he thought.
"I love you, Spike.."
He spun on one heel, staring around the room. Empty. The boiling tears
came again. "I left you. I promised I'd never leave... Buffy?" he
muttered hysterically, his hand unconsciously sliding along the stone as he walked. "Buffy?" He was at the ladder to the lower level, descending to their room. God, she's everywhere, he thought.
Again the wall, trailing his hands. " I never knew how cold it was. Why didn't you tell me, Love?" Around the perimeter, every inch. Empty. Spike stared over at the bed, almost afraid to look, afraid to think he would never spend another night curled around her, exploring her, always finding something new. The blanket was rumpled and a pillow was hanging over the side. "She slept here," he whispered in amazement. "God, she stayed here." Slowly he sat on the edge, pulling the pillow to his chest, clinging, smelling her hair, her sweat, her tears, her essence. He couldn't have held back if he tried. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm sorry." Sobbing, hitching words.
He tried to steel himself, to focus and plan, but all he could do was think of what he had done. Let go. Let go of her. Spike tried to breathe, closing his eyes, pulling air in, blowing it out, but nothing was easy.
Nothing would ever be easy.
Spike noticed a pad of paper by the bed. Wiping his eyes, he leaned to the bedside table and slid the tablet into his lap.
I love you, Spike.
Pages upon pages. Over and Over. Night after night.
"No!" He tossed the pillow back to the bed, clutching the papers to his
aching, pounding chest. "No, Buffy." He fell to his knees sobbing
outright, his body shaking from its very core.
A tiny noise, just a sigh, caught his ear. Spike stopped, his mouth
snapping shut, tuning out everything but the faint mewling sound. It was a horrible, desperate, lonely moan. He stood, following the barely audible noise through the bedroom, out the back entrance and into the tunnels below. Suddenly, the noise choked to a stop.
"Buffy?" He was trying to control his voice, which was wavering between
terror and elation. "Love, where are you?" He heard a painful little groan and ran.
She was curled within a niche in the rock, a tight little ball of flesh and blood and blonde hair. Spike ran to her, not quite believing that she was real. She was whimpering like a wounded child, hiding in a closet. "Oh God, Buffy," he whispered, skidding to his knees next to her, grabbing her shoulders. She moaned softly and he felt her shoulder loosely pop.
Spontaneously, the tears began again, as he put an arm under her legs, the other under her back and lifted her limp body to his chest.
"Buffy?" he whispered, showering her face with gentle kisses. "You with me, Pet?"
Her eyes flickered, straining to open, never fully making it.
"Spike?" The tiniest breath of a whisper. He smiled at her, his tears raining on her pale cheeks.
"Yeah, it's me, Love," Spike answered, beginning back toward the crypt.
"But you're gone."
"No. I'm right here. I won't ever leave you again."
Buffy said nothing for a long moment, just listening to his boots hit the stone floor, feeling his arms around her. Spike thought she had drifted back out. "I love you, Spike," she whispered.
He paused, a breath catching in his throat. " I know, Pet. I love you
too."
*****
Buffy awoke slowly, a brutal pain overtaking every inch of her body. She bit her lip, drawing blood, letting the pain wash over her like a wave. At least I know I'm alive, she thought. Spike was sitting by her legs with a bowl of water and a washcloth, gently cleaning the wounds on her legs and hands. Buffy flinched, the muscles in her calf contracting as he brushed over a particularly livid mark.
"Oooowww," Buffy whimpered, pulling her leg away.
"Be a big girl," Spike answered, smiling up at her, relieved that she was awake. She had been out a long time and he had debated taking her to hospital.
"It *hurts*," she whined softly, but she could tell that her healing powers were back and she could feel all of the wounds closing.
"How's the shoulder?" Spike slid up the bed next to her, stretching like a cat, lying on his side pressed against her. Buffy wriggled, testing it out.
"Ouchy, but better."
"Had to do a little bone popping there. Glad you were out for that." He was unconsciously brushing his hands over her soft cheek. She closed her eyes, drinking him in. "God, I missed touching you," he purred, his lips brushing against her face.
Buffy's eyes flew open in shock. "You... you're warm!" she yelped, grabbing his hand and holding it between her own. He smiled down on her again as she slid her small fingers down to his wrist. "You have a heartbeat?!"
"Seems our little trip had some side effects," Spike commented, pressing his lips against her cheek again.
"Hu..human, Spike?" Buffy whispered, pushing him back so she could look at his eyes.
"No, Love. Still fangy Vampire Spike. Just with a few modifications, it seems."
Buffy reached her hand out, pressing it to his chest, closing her eyes,
feeling the rhythm of his heart synch with hers. A grin played on her lips, which broke to a broad smile. " I like this," she whispered, pressing her ear to his chest. His arms wrapped around her shoulders lightly as she snuggled in. "Spike's a real boy now," she giggled.
He chuckled despite himself. "I'm not sure if I should be honored or
offended, Pet. Thought I was doing just fine by you before."
Buffy's face slackened, but the grin was still barely there. "Please tell me that the whole Vampire stamina thing is still.. ya know.."
Spike chuckled again. "Might have to learn to regulate the whole ticker so that I don't have an inadvertent heart attack from you, but I think you'll be more than happy with me when the time comes," he said, brushing his lips against hers. She melted into his arms again, pressing her head back into his chest.
"Good," she whispered, her body going soft against him. He tightened his grip on her, holding her against him, listening to her breathing and her heart. She drifted back off, still with a devious grin on her face.
****
Buffy screamed, startling Spike from his half slumber. It was a horrifying, terrible, ear splitting howl as if someone had driven a stake through her heart. He bolted upright, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from his sleeping mind.
"Buffy?" he asked, his heart beating overtime now. "Nightmare, Love?"
"Something's wrong!" she panted, her hands clutching white knuckled at the bed sheets. She screamed again, writhing against the agony.
"What is it, Pet?" he said grabbing her hand. Her fingernails immediately sunk into his skin, drawing blood. "Arms, head, legs, help me here," he asked, taking inventory of all of her injured parts.
"Got to get to Giles, Willow..." she breathed, her hand clenching his like a vice.
"What? Why? Buffy, What's wrong?" She was sweating and white as a ghost. For a moment, he thought he might lose her again. The look on her face was sheer terror.
"Baby," she whispered, promptly passing out against the pillows.
"Bloody *hell*!"
to be contd.
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.
Summary: What can I say? Buffy and Spike finally find each other again.
Going Home
The wind stopped. The spinning world was silent. Empty. Cold. A shiver shot down her back making her entire body convulse against the cold walls around her. Everything hurt. Her head, her arms, her hands, her legs, her belly was ripping apart. She shuddered again, cold sweat rushing down her neck, mixing with the blood, washing in crimson rivers down her spine.
Buffy let her eyes flutter open. Blackness. Cold, black, emptiness.
Nothing. The world, every world, was gone. She was too tired to cry.
Instead, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. At least in her mind she had something left to hold on to.
*****
The run to the cemetery from the schoolyard seemed to last forever. Trees flew past along with cars, dogs, mailboxes. Breathing was inconvenient, as was the explosive rhythm in his chest. No time for this. Can play 'Wonders of Anatomy' when I find Buffy, he thought. Not now. Home.
Spike almost fell, he turned so fast through the cemetery gates. Half of him was still expecting to see two headstones. One larger, one smaller. The stronger half kept running. Needing to get home. To wait for her there.
The door. He could see it. Only a few more steps. His legs were burning, but he kept moving, his hands meeting with the thick wood of the door, barging through as she had so many times before. Sunlight flooded the room and he stopped dead.
His crypt was exactly how he left it. The TV, the books, the fridge. There was no dust. No cobwebs. No new residents. She had been here. Regularly, from the looks of things. Her smell flooded him. Lavender and jasmine and honeysuckle whirling together, smacking into him. He had left her there alone. The realization was ripping his beating heart in two.
"Buffy?" Spike called out, stepping further into the crypt. "Buffy? You here, Pet? Please answer me."
Her smell was everywhere. Every inch of every wall. Every plank, every
cushion, every rug. Spike began to walk along the edges of the room,
feeling the cold stone trail beneath his fingertips. Nothing. He lit a
candle he found by the door. It was half melted. Time to get a new one, he thought.
"I love you, Spike.."
He spun on one heel, staring around the room. Empty. The boiling tears
came again. "I left you. I promised I'd never leave... Buffy?" he
muttered hysterically, his hand unconsciously sliding along the stone as he walked. "Buffy?" He was at the ladder to the lower level, descending to their room. God, she's everywhere, he thought.
Again the wall, trailing his hands. " I never knew how cold it was. Why didn't you tell me, Love?" Around the perimeter, every inch. Empty. Spike stared over at the bed, almost afraid to look, afraid to think he would never spend another night curled around her, exploring her, always finding something new. The blanket was rumpled and a pillow was hanging over the side. "She slept here," he whispered in amazement. "God, she stayed here." Slowly he sat on the edge, pulling the pillow to his chest, clinging, smelling her hair, her sweat, her tears, her essence. He couldn't have held back if he tried. "I'm so sorry, love. I'm sorry." Sobbing, hitching words.
He tried to steel himself, to focus and plan, but all he could do was think of what he had done. Let go. Let go of her. Spike tried to breathe, closing his eyes, pulling air in, blowing it out, but nothing was easy.
Nothing would ever be easy.
Spike noticed a pad of paper by the bed. Wiping his eyes, he leaned to the bedside table and slid the tablet into his lap.
I love you, Spike.
Pages upon pages. Over and Over. Night after night.
"No!" He tossed the pillow back to the bed, clutching the papers to his
aching, pounding chest. "No, Buffy." He fell to his knees sobbing
outright, his body shaking from its very core.
A tiny noise, just a sigh, caught his ear. Spike stopped, his mouth
snapping shut, tuning out everything but the faint mewling sound. It was a horrible, desperate, lonely moan. He stood, following the barely audible noise through the bedroom, out the back entrance and into the tunnels below. Suddenly, the noise choked to a stop.
"Buffy?" He was trying to control his voice, which was wavering between
terror and elation. "Love, where are you?" He heard a painful little groan and ran.
She was curled within a niche in the rock, a tight little ball of flesh and blood and blonde hair. Spike ran to her, not quite believing that she was real. She was whimpering like a wounded child, hiding in a closet. "Oh God, Buffy," he whispered, skidding to his knees next to her, grabbing her shoulders. She moaned softly and he felt her shoulder loosely pop.
Spontaneously, the tears began again, as he put an arm under her legs, the other under her back and lifted her limp body to his chest.
"Buffy?" he whispered, showering her face with gentle kisses. "You with me, Pet?"
Her eyes flickered, straining to open, never fully making it.
"Spike?" The tiniest breath of a whisper. He smiled at her, his tears raining on her pale cheeks.
"Yeah, it's me, Love," Spike answered, beginning back toward the crypt.
"But you're gone."
"No. I'm right here. I won't ever leave you again."
Buffy said nothing for a long moment, just listening to his boots hit the stone floor, feeling his arms around her. Spike thought she had drifted back out. "I love you, Spike," she whispered.
He paused, a breath catching in his throat. " I know, Pet. I love you
too."
*****
Buffy awoke slowly, a brutal pain overtaking every inch of her body. She bit her lip, drawing blood, letting the pain wash over her like a wave. At least I know I'm alive, she thought. Spike was sitting by her legs with a bowl of water and a washcloth, gently cleaning the wounds on her legs and hands. Buffy flinched, the muscles in her calf contracting as he brushed over a particularly livid mark.
"Oooowww," Buffy whimpered, pulling her leg away.
"Be a big girl," Spike answered, smiling up at her, relieved that she was awake. She had been out a long time and he had debated taking her to hospital.
"It *hurts*," she whined softly, but she could tell that her healing powers were back and she could feel all of the wounds closing.
"How's the shoulder?" Spike slid up the bed next to her, stretching like a cat, lying on his side pressed against her. Buffy wriggled, testing it out.
"Ouchy, but better."
"Had to do a little bone popping there. Glad you were out for that." He was unconsciously brushing his hands over her soft cheek. She closed her eyes, drinking him in. "God, I missed touching you," he purred, his lips brushing against her face.
Buffy's eyes flew open in shock. "You... you're warm!" she yelped, grabbing his hand and holding it between her own. He smiled down on her again as she slid her small fingers down to his wrist. "You have a heartbeat?!"
"Seems our little trip had some side effects," Spike commented, pressing his lips against her cheek again.
"Hu..human, Spike?" Buffy whispered, pushing him back so she could look at his eyes.
"No, Love. Still fangy Vampire Spike. Just with a few modifications, it seems."
Buffy reached her hand out, pressing it to his chest, closing her eyes,
feeling the rhythm of his heart synch with hers. A grin played on her lips, which broke to a broad smile. " I like this," she whispered, pressing her ear to his chest. His arms wrapped around her shoulders lightly as she snuggled in. "Spike's a real boy now," she giggled.
He chuckled despite himself. "I'm not sure if I should be honored or
offended, Pet. Thought I was doing just fine by you before."
Buffy's face slackened, but the grin was still barely there. "Please tell me that the whole Vampire stamina thing is still.. ya know.."
Spike chuckled again. "Might have to learn to regulate the whole ticker so that I don't have an inadvertent heart attack from you, but I think you'll be more than happy with me when the time comes," he said, brushing his lips against hers. She melted into his arms again, pressing her head back into his chest.
"Good," she whispered, her body going soft against him. He tightened his grip on her, holding her against him, listening to her breathing and her heart. She drifted back off, still with a devious grin on her face.
****
Buffy screamed, startling Spike from his half slumber. It was a horrifying, terrible, ear splitting howl as if someone had driven a stake through her heart. He bolted upright, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from his sleeping mind.
"Buffy?" he asked, his heart beating overtime now. "Nightmare, Love?"
"Something's wrong!" she panted, her hands clutching white knuckled at the bed sheets. She screamed again, writhing against the agony.
"What is it, Pet?" he said grabbing her hand. Her fingernails immediately sunk into his skin, drawing blood. "Arms, head, legs, help me here," he asked, taking inventory of all of her injured parts.
"Got to get to Giles, Willow..." she breathed, her hand clenching his like a vice.
"What? Why? Buffy, What's wrong?" She was sweating and white as a ghost. For a moment, he thought he might lose her again. The look on her face was sheer terror.
"Baby," she whispered, promptly passing out against the pillows.
"Bloody *hell*!"
to be contd.