Title: The Star (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 13)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.
Summary: Spike is mortally wounded. Buffy has to leave him alone. Spike gets an unexpected visitor.
The Star
"Gwydion?" the wounded warrior called, bolting into the house.
"What is that?" Gwydion asked, stepping into the entryway with practiced elegance.
"The Slayer and Angel. They killed them all," he panted. "All but me."
"Spike?" Gwydion asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall.
"He was wounded badly. I think... I think he's mortal," the vampire
commented, furrowing his brow.
"Mortal?"
"He took a sword blow to the gut. There was a lot of blood. He looked as if he was dying, sir,"
"Did the Slayer cut the final blow?"
"No, sir. It was quite the accident. Angel stabbed him as he was finishing Pwyll."
A sad look crossed the face of the sandy haired man. "Poor Pwyll," he
whispered. "Well, if Spike is indeed mortal, there is one less obstacle to overcome."
"But I thought..."
Gwydion laughed. "That Spike was with us? No, my child. He belongs to the Slayer. To the Peacemaker. Tied for all eternity."
"Then why?"
"Patience, son," Gwydion said, patting the boy's shoulder. "Have Simon
patch you up."
"Yes sir," the army vamp said, spinning on a heel in a precise motion and heading down the hallway. Drusilla watched from the doorway. As Gwydion turned back into the den, she disappeared quietly into the shadows.
*****
Spike was counting the stars. Watching them flicker and fade and brighten. Really didn't hurt anymore. Be fine in a few minutes. Soon as the bleeding stops. The stars danced above, moving, glowing, disappearing. Just a few more minutes and I'll be right as rain, he thought. Spike closed his eyes against the dizzying array above.
There she was. Stepping through the flames as she had that night in Africa. So light. So dazzlingly beautiful.
"I miss you, Spike." Just a whisper.
"My love," he choked.
A small girl appeared next to her, walking to Buffy's side and taking
Buffy's hand. Couldn't have been more than five. Beautiful. Cut from the same cloth with shiny blonde hair and huge doe eyes. Just sapphires rather than emeralds. "Emma," Spike groaned, trying to sit up. The two were shining through the flames, wild and pretty and good.
"I love you, Daddy," the little girl's voice rang. The sweetest, most peaceful voice, rich beyond her years.
"C'mere, mite," he whispered. But they were gone.
*****
Buffy was running, pounding down the street, tears flowing as fast as her legs moved, her heart racing, breaking. She was going the wrong way. Spike was behind her. Spike was... mortal. Spike was dying. She ran because it was the only way not to run back.
Angel was calling to her, trailing her. Damn him, Buffy thought. Damn his stupid sword. Damn his.. presence. She wanted to scream back to leave her alone, but she was afraid if her mouth opened, the primal sound of rage and hurt and fear would shatter the night. Bring the very stars down from the sky.
She burst through the door of their house, steaming past the waiting crew in the living room, never pausing before running up the stairs. Angel could explain this. He could tell them how he nearly killed Spike. Nearly. But I don't know that, do I?, she thought. She felt the blood. Saw his eyes fade from blue to clear, his face blank into that horrible stare. Buffy ran into Emma's room, her feet suddenly still. There was no where left to run.
"Buffy?" Dawn asked, as Buffy dropped to her knees, her head falling into her hands as if it were made of lead. The sobs came. The hitching, horrible, painful sobs. "Buffy?" She felt her sister's arms around her. "Buffy, what happened?"
"Spike," Buffy whispered when she could find the breath.
"What about Spike?"
"Mortal," Buffy muttered.
"OK," Dawn said, confused. Suddenly, the idea clicked into place in her
mind. "Buffy, did you hurt Spike?"
"No." Buffy's body shook like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Then what?"
"Angel. Accident."
"What accident?"
"Stabbed. Dying."
"Buffy," Dawn said forcefully, fear racking her. She pulled Buffy's face from her hands. "What do you mean? Talk to me."
"Angel," she whispered," Killing a vampire with a sword and cut Spike. He was bleeding. Dawn, he's a mortal."
"Is he OK?"
"I don't know."
"We have to go to him, " Dawn said, standing up quickly, resolve in her
voice.
"No," Buffy answered, standing in front of her. "We can't. He made me
leave. If we go, we could endanger Emma. We could lose her."
"If we don't, Spike might die."
"Dawn, he *made* me go. He doesn't want us to leave her."
"But.."
"I'll go as soon as the sun rises. Get the keys from Anya," Buffy ordered, her resolve coming back.
"What do we do until then?"
"Wait," Buffy said, the tears still silently falling. "Now go," she
whispered, kissing Dawn's forehead. Dawn looked at her closely and jogged out of the room.
*****
Spike's eyes fluttered open. The stars were gone. Candles glowed. The
shadow danced around the room. Furniture. He was in his crypt, laid out on his bed. Spike tried to lift his head, but he was too tired. His hand was pressed against his shirt and he could feel the warm stickiness of blood still crawling between his fingers. A haze covered everything in a surreal glow. It had been quick the first time he died. He felt her teeth sinking deep into his flesh, a sharp pain, then it faded to blissful blackness. This was different. This was human. This time he had reason not to fade.
He heard feet patter in the shadows. Spike tried to lift his head again
with no success. He closed his eyes and felt a cloth on his head and
delicate fingers peel his hand away from the wound.
"Buffy?" he muttered.
"Shh, love," the voice said. It was familiar, thick and spiced, but it was not Buffy. Spike's eyes flickered open once again.
"Drusilla?"
"Hello, Spike." That familiar Cheshire cat grin spreading across her dark features.
"What...."
"Don't talk," she continued, putting a long finger over his lips. The
feelings of comfort and utter revulsion battled in her touch. "The Hanged Man wounded the Emperor. Come to heal him."
"Why are you here?" he croaked.
"Gwydion brought me along," she chirped. "Thought the New World might be a nice holiday."
"Gwydion?"
"The master," she answered. Spike tried to process everything she
was saying. A twinge of jealousy hit. She had found someone to take care of her. Another puppy to play with. But jealousy was quickly replaced by fury. The fact she was here and here with the master, with Gwydion, meant she was here to kill is daughter. Drusilla. Betrayal. What more could he expect?
"Where is he, Dru?"
"Ah, ah, ah," she chastised, wagging her finger. "You're not to know, my naughty Spike."
"Dru, he..."
"Shhh."
"Dru, he plans to kill a child. Did you know that?"
"The Star," she whispered, her face dropping. "I told him it was bad to kill little babies. There will be many other chances when she's grown."
Spike felt himself growl. He had forgotten how cold-blooded she could be. Still, he thought, Angelus had butchered her family, even the little ones before turning her. He knew what it had done to her. What had once been a gift, that night, became madness.
"Dru," The words seemed to whistle from his lips and from his wound. "You have to tell me when. How?" Spike twinged, the pain crashing. His body shook.
Drusilla looked at him wide eyed. "It's true!" she exclaimed.
"True?"
"You're a mortal." A look of horror crossed her face.
"It seems that way, Pet," he answered, falling back against the pillows.
"I can take it away," she hissed, her face changing as it did that night in the alley. She crawled up the bed, straddling his hips, leaning down until she was just inches from his face.
"Dru, no."
"You cannot want this life. This death."
"I chose it, Dru."
"I can give you back your health. Your power."
"I love her," Spike whispered. Dru rocked back. He watched in hazy
interest as her dark mind processed what she had always known.
"You loved me once," she sang, almost as if the words were part of some
funeral dirge.
"That I did, Pet," Spike answered, honestly.
"I can make it that way again," she whispered in that mad, sultry voice,
stretching out on top of him. He could not move. Pain, fatigue,
hopelessness pinned him to the bed. "I can make you what you were. Darkest prince. My love," she chanted. He could feel her tongue flicker along his jugular. Spike closed his eyes swallowing. "I can take your pain and make you a god." Her teeth scraped sensuously against his flesh.
"Dru, no." he croaked, tears in his eyes. If he was to die tonight, he
wanted it to be on his own terms. Still, her wicked mouth caressed his
neck. Her dark, intoxicating beauty. The smell of opium and rose petals and blood.
"I can make you better," she breathed.
"I miss you," her sweet, light voice. The flames flickering around her.
"I love you, Daddy," Words that were yet unspoken.
"Dru, No!" Spike snapped as her fangs began to burrow into his flesh. With a final burst of energy, he pushed her off of him. She tumbled across the bed, stopping just before she hit the floor.
"Spike?" she said, horror and confusion on her doll like face. How he had loved her once. Not anymore. Never again.
"I don't want to go back," Spike said softly.
"You *want* to die here with her...stink.. all around you?"
" I would rather die with her," Spike whispered, getting tired again.
"Drusilla, I loved you once. Our time is gone. I chose her. I chose this. Please, pet. Leave me be."
Drusilla stood, floating across the room on her long graceful legs. Spike waited, knowing she would try again and doubting he had the energy to fend her off a second time. She stopped next to the bed and leaned down towards him. He closed his eyes, begging whoever would listen to deliver him from this fate.
Soft lips pressed to his forehead. "Goodbye then, my Spike." He took great effort to force open his eyes and look at her once again. "The fairies will know."
"Know what, Pet?"
"When the fairies meet, there will be a ball. Thousands of them, dancing in the sunlight. That is when the Star would fall."
"At the hands of the fairies?" Spike asked, trying to unravel her words. Trying to understand why she was even saying them.
"No," she giggled. "The fairies love the Star. The day of their ball will be the day that Gwydion will come."
Spike thought a moment, trying to record it in his shattered mind. Trying to unlock the riddle with an intellect that was fading with his body. Hoping he could get to Buffy in time.
Drusilla turned and glided toward the door. "Dru?" Spike called.
"Yes, my love," she answered, turning her head.
"Thank you."
She looked at him for a long moment, then drifted into the darkness.
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: Spike is mortally wounded. Buffy has to leave him alone. Spike gets an unexpected visitor.
The Star
"Gwydion?" the wounded warrior called, bolting into the house.
"What is that?" Gwydion asked, stepping into the entryway with practiced elegance.
"The Slayer and Angel. They killed them all," he panted. "All but me."
"Spike?" Gwydion asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall.
"He was wounded badly. I think... I think he's mortal," the vampire
commented, furrowing his brow.
"Mortal?"
"He took a sword blow to the gut. There was a lot of blood. He looked as if he was dying, sir,"
"Did the Slayer cut the final blow?"
"No, sir. It was quite the accident. Angel stabbed him as he was finishing Pwyll."
A sad look crossed the face of the sandy haired man. "Poor Pwyll," he
whispered. "Well, if Spike is indeed mortal, there is one less obstacle to overcome."
"But I thought..."
Gwydion laughed. "That Spike was with us? No, my child. He belongs to the Slayer. To the Peacemaker. Tied for all eternity."
"Then why?"
"Patience, son," Gwydion said, patting the boy's shoulder. "Have Simon
patch you up."
"Yes sir," the army vamp said, spinning on a heel in a precise motion and heading down the hallway. Drusilla watched from the doorway. As Gwydion turned back into the den, she disappeared quietly into the shadows.
*****
Spike was counting the stars. Watching them flicker and fade and brighten. Really didn't hurt anymore. Be fine in a few minutes. Soon as the bleeding stops. The stars danced above, moving, glowing, disappearing. Just a few more minutes and I'll be right as rain, he thought. Spike closed his eyes against the dizzying array above.
There she was. Stepping through the flames as she had that night in Africa. So light. So dazzlingly beautiful.
"I miss you, Spike." Just a whisper.
"My love," he choked.
A small girl appeared next to her, walking to Buffy's side and taking
Buffy's hand. Couldn't have been more than five. Beautiful. Cut from the same cloth with shiny blonde hair and huge doe eyes. Just sapphires rather than emeralds. "Emma," Spike groaned, trying to sit up. The two were shining through the flames, wild and pretty and good.
"I love you, Daddy," the little girl's voice rang. The sweetest, most peaceful voice, rich beyond her years.
"C'mere, mite," he whispered. But they were gone.
*****
Buffy was running, pounding down the street, tears flowing as fast as her legs moved, her heart racing, breaking. She was going the wrong way. Spike was behind her. Spike was... mortal. Spike was dying. She ran because it was the only way not to run back.
Angel was calling to her, trailing her. Damn him, Buffy thought. Damn his stupid sword. Damn his.. presence. She wanted to scream back to leave her alone, but she was afraid if her mouth opened, the primal sound of rage and hurt and fear would shatter the night. Bring the very stars down from the sky.
She burst through the door of their house, steaming past the waiting crew in the living room, never pausing before running up the stairs. Angel could explain this. He could tell them how he nearly killed Spike. Nearly. But I don't know that, do I?, she thought. She felt the blood. Saw his eyes fade from blue to clear, his face blank into that horrible stare. Buffy ran into Emma's room, her feet suddenly still. There was no where left to run.
"Buffy?" Dawn asked, as Buffy dropped to her knees, her head falling into her hands as if it were made of lead. The sobs came. The hitching, horrible, painful sobs. "Buffy?" She felt her sister's arms around her. "Buffy, what happened?"
"Spike," Buffy whispered when she could find the breath.
"What about Spike?"
"Mortal," Buffy muttered.
"OK," Dawn said, confused. Suddenly, the idea clicked into place in her
mind. "Buffy, did you hurt Spike?"
"No." Buffy's body shook like a leaf in a hurricane.
"Then what?"
"Angel. Accident."
"What accident?"
"Stabbed. Dying."
"Buffy," Dawn said forcefully, fear racking her. She pulled Buffy's face from her hands. "What do you mean? Talk to me."
"Angel," she whispered," Killing a vampire with a sword and cut Spike. He was bleeding. Dawn, he's a mortal."
"Is he OK?"
"I don't know."
"We have to go to him, " Dawn said, standing up quickly, resolve in her
voice.
"No," Buffy answered, standing in front of her. "We can't. He made me
leave. If we go, we could endanger Emma. We could lose her."
"If we don't, Spike might die."
"Dawn, he *made* me go. He doesn't want us to leave her."
"But.."
"I'll go as soon as the sun rises. Get the keys from Anya," Buffy ordered, her resolve coming back.
"What do we do until then?"
"Wait," Buffy said, the tears still silently falling. "Now go," she
whispered, kissing Dawn's forehead. Dawn looked at her closely and jogged out of the room.
*****
Spike's eyes fluttered open. The stars were gone. Candles glowed. The
shadow danced around the room. Furniture. He was in his crypt, laid out on his bed. Spike tried to lift his head, but he was too tired. His hand was pressed against his shirt and he could feel the warm stickiness of blood still crawling between his fingers. A haze covered everything in a surreal glow. It had been quick the first time he died. He felt her teeth sinking deep into his flesh, a sharp pain, then it faded to blissful blackness. This was different. This was human. This time he had reason not to fade.
He heard feet patter in the shadows. Spike tried to lift his head again
with no success. He closed his eyes and felt a cloth on his head and
delicate fingers peel his hand away from the wound.
"Buffy?" he muttered.
"Shh, love," the voice said. It was familiar, thick and spiced, but it was not Buffy. Spike's eyes flickered open once again.
"Drusilla?"
"Hello, Spike." That familiar Cheshire cat grin spreading across her dark features.
"What...."
"Don't talk," she continued, putting a long finger over his lips. The
feelings of comfort and utter revulsion battled in her touch. "The Hanged Man wounded the Emperor. Come to heal him."
"Why are you here?" he croaked.
"Gwydion brought me along," she chirped. "Thought the New World might be a nice holiday."
"Gwydion?"
"The master," she answered. Spike tried to process everything she
was saying. A twinge of jealousy hit. She had found someone to take care of her. Another puppy to play with. But jealousy was quickly replaced by fury. The fact she was here and here with the master, with Gwydion, meant she was here to kill is daughter. Drusilla. Betrayal. What more could he expect?
"Where is he, Dru?"
"Ah, ah, ah," she chastised, wagging her finger. "You're not to know, my naughty Spike."
"Dru, he..."
"Shhh."
"Dru, he plans to kill a child. Did you know that?"
"The Star," she whispered, her face dropping. "I told him it was bad to kill little babies. There will be many other chances when she's grown."
Spike felt himself growl. He had forgotten how cold-blooded she could be. Still, he thought, Angelus had butchered her family, even the little ones before turning her. He knew what it had done to her. What had once been a gift, that night, became madness.
"Dru," The words seemed to whistle from his lips and from his wound. "You have to tell me when. How?" Spike twinged, the pain crashing. His body shook.
Drusilla looked at him wide eyed. "It's true!" she exclaimed.
"True?"
"You're a mortal." A look of horror crossed her face.
"It seems that way, Pet," he answered, falling back against the pillows.
"I can take it away," she hissed, her face changing as it did that night in the alley. She crawled up the bed, straddling his hips, leaning down until she was just inches from his face.
"Dru, no."
"You cannot want this life. This death."
"I chose it, Dru."
"I can give you back your health. Your power."
"I love her," Spike whispered. Dru rocked back. He watched in hazy
interest as her dark mind processed what she had always known.
"You loved me once," she sang, almost as if the words were part of some
funeral dirge.
"That I did, Pet," Spike answered, honestly.
"I can make it that way again," she whispered in that mad, sultry voice,
stretching out on top of him. He could not move. Pain, fatigue,
hopelessness pinned him to the bed. "I can make you what you were. Darkest prince. My love," she chanted. He could feel her tongue flicker along his jugular. Spike closed his eyes swallowing. "I can take your pain and make you a god." Her teeth scraped sensuously against his flesh.
"Dru, no." he croaked, tears in his eyes. If he was to die tonight, he
wanted it to be on his own terms. Still, her wicked mouth caressed his
neck. Her dark, intoxicating beauty. The smell of opium and rose petals and blood.
"I can make you better," she breathed.
"I miss you," her sweet, light voice. The flames flickering around her.
"I love you, Daddy," Words that were yet unspoken.
"Dru, No!" Spike snapped as her fangs began to burrow into his flesh. With a final burst of energy, he pushed her off of him. She tumbled across the bed, stopping just before she hit the floor.
"Spike?" she said, horror and confusion on her doll like face. How he had loved her once. Not anymore. Never again.
"I don't want to go back," Spike said softly.
"You *want* to die here with her...stink.. all around you?"
" I would rather die with her," Spike whispered, getting tired again.
"Drusilla, I loved you once. Our time is gone. I chose her. I chose this. Please, pet. Leave me be."
Drusilla stood, floating across the room on her long graceful legs. Spike waited, knowing she would try again and doubting he had the energy to fend her off a second time. She stopped next to the bed and leaned down towards him. He closed his eyes, begging whoever would listen to deliver him from this fate.
Soft lips pressed to his forehead. "Goodbye then, my Spike." He took great effort to force open his eyes and look at her once again. "The fairies will know."
"Know what, Pet?"
"When the fairies meet, there will be a ball. Thousands of them, dancing in the sunlight. That is when the Star would fall."
"At the hands of the fairies?" Spike asked, trying to unravel her words. Trying to understand why she was even saying them.
"No," she giggled. "The fairies love the Star. The day of their ball will be the day that Gwydion will come."
Spike thought a moment, trying to record it in his shattered mind. Trying to unlock the riddle with an intellect that was fading with his body. Hoping he could get to Buffy in time.
Drusilla turned and glided toward the door. "Dru?" Spike called.
"Yes, my love," she answered, turning her head.
"Thank you."
She looked at him for a long moment, then drifted into the darkness.
To be contd.
