1 Riddles
Summary: Tired of his feelings for the Slayer, Spike ventures to Africa to seek help from a ancient demon, who forces him to take a trip down to memory lane. Feeding on the emotions Spike's memories evoke, the demon grows slowly stronger.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy are the creators of the Buffy universe and Spike. Please stop using my pretty Spike as a bloody punching bag!
Spoilers: end S6.
Rating: R, bad language, violence.
Note: based on spoilers - Spike goes to Africa to get his chip out, and probably doesn't return till next season. Just wanted to tell the tale of what happened to him in sunny Africa. Story told from his pov so it could be a bit confusing.
By Richard Bachman
Dedicated to all the Williams who are desperately trying to hold on to their Slayers.
2 Part 2; Digging up the past
*Close your eyes William.*
I do just that, and the radiance of your unnatural bright eyes is shut off from me completely, leaving me in my own private darkness.
*Show me what you see.*
I'm just about to pull my What The Fuck! face and tell you that I'm not sodding able to see anything with my eyes closed when a small light suddenly appears. It seems far away, and faint, still it seems as real as the stars in a night's sky. And then, it starts pulling nearer, as though I'm travelling trough a long, dark tunnel in which I can barely see the light at the end. I become curious of what I will find there, and even though I'm pretty sure that it is you who is guiding me, I need no more of encouragements to draw closer to it.
*What is the first thing in your life that you can remember William?*
*Show me*
Snowflakes.
I remember white, glittering snowflakes, delicate as ice flowers on the windows in winter, drifting down on an alien landscape. It created a hesitating blanket of white on a collection of pillars and stones, standing together in a strange formation, creating a ruin. In the middle was a statue, a lady with the face of a Goddess but with no arms. As the snow ceased to fall I was disappointed and I remember making it fall again. There was no magic involved, just those two clumsy little hands of mine, holding this miniature world upside down and back again to let the fake snow in the liquid sky to descend once more.
A snow globe. Much bigger then those cheap plastic ones you see nowadays. Much heavier too; they were made of crystal clear glass in the Victorian age. My mommy never let me pick it up by my own. She would ask Sarah, the chambermaid or Katherine, my nurse to lift it up and shake the snow for me. She was afraid that I would break my fragile little toy. She was afraid that I myself would break.
It wasn't fair.
The snow globe was mine.
My daddy gave it to me. Just before he went away again. I was crying because I didn't want him to leave. I nuzzled my tearstained face in his collar and made stains on his proper jacked. I remember that I was so close to him that all I could smell was his familiar scent, a mix of tobacco, leather and soap. He smiled at me, as I told him that I wanted to go with him. I wanted to go to where the white marble lady was standing, for my daddy had told me that it was there where he was going.
"Of course you can come with me one day William. But not now. I want you to stay here and take care of your mother for me. Once again, after I'm gone, you'll be the master of the house, and that comes with certain responsibilities."
My father looked fondly at me. I could see the reflection of a sad seven year old boy in his sky blue eyes.
"Don't cry now William. I will be back before the end of October. Remember when that is, my boy? Remember what I've told you last time I went away?"
I nodded hesitatingly.
"That's when the first leaves of the oak trees start to fall."
He gave me a sad but radiant smile. A smile only a father could give to his son. Great pride mixed with an incredible grief.
"Exactly! Now give me a hug before mister Bannister decides he has waited long enough and takes off with the carriage without your old man here."
I hugged him while fighting my tears. I was the man of the household now. I had to be strong for my mommy's sake. He kissed mommy goodbye and told her he would write to her as soon as he arrived. She nodded eagerly and whispered her last hurried words into his ears. She smiled but in her smile there was no happiness, only tears.
He kissed her once again, placed his hat on his head, pulling the rim far over his eyes. He took his cane and suitcase and stepped out of the door into the wavering April sun.
Then he was gone.
I waited all spring and all summer. Sitting on the windowsill every morning. Watching the leaves on the old oak tree in our garden turn from pale green into a deep dark colour, forming a thick patch of foliage that covered the patio underneath in shadows. I thought about what my daddy would be doing in that strange and exotic land, so far away from home. Oh yes, he had shown me pictures of that place, when he was letting me sit on his lap and telling me stories in front of the fireplace on cold winter nights. Black and white landscapes of mountains, higher then any hills that I've seen before and more ferocious then lightning and thunder. My daddy told me that one of them was sleeping, a giant not to be disturbed. Terrible things will and have happened when he awakes. At the foot of that dangerous mountain was a long lost city. It had once been beautiful, with busy streets, limestone houses and marble palaces. There were parks and fountains and statues of Gods. My daddy worked there. He read the words that were left behind in stones and walls by the people who have once lived there, but were now gone. The mountain killed them. He stirred from his deep slumber, roaring in anger. He smouldered everything with a rain of burning ashes and rivers of fire. When he finally got tired, and went back to sleep, the city was no more, and the people forgot about it as it was buried deep under the ground, far away from the sun. Then, one day, my daddy found it. He dusted off the grey ashes that covered the roads, houses and statues. He read the stories that told how the city once was. He knew, that although the ruins and rubbles left behind by the giant's wrath pictured a barren place, it had not always been like this. In his dreams, he knew how the city looked like before it was destroyed. He knew that it was glorious.
And I knew, because he had told me.
The leaves turned from deep dark green into yellow, then orange and red. As I sat by the window, I became more anxious every day. Last time my daddy returned home, the leaves on the oak tree had the same colour.
Then the leaves started to fall. First there were a few, lying scattered on the grass like precious rubies on sheets of green. But when I climbed up on the windowsill one horrible morning, the whole patio was covered under glossy leaves. I jumped off immediately and rushed down the hallway to my mother's room. She was still lying in bed, but she was not sleeping anymore. She looked like a statue, motionless and cold, while the shadows in her room made her skin look grey as if shaded by a veil. Clutching my hands on the soft fabric of her nightgown I've asked her why the leaves on the oak tree were all gone before my daddy had returned. I was scared. I've tried to count the days from the first morning that I've seen a single red leaf lying between the wet cobble stones of our courtyard, but I got confused a couple of days before and I was not sure anymore if this was day 22 or 21. Now all the leaves were gone and there were no more days left to count.
My mother didn't say anything. She just looked at me while she ran her hand through my wild brown locks. She had been very silent for days.
I crawled into her bed and settled myself in the warm and comforting niche that she formed with her soft body. As I pressed my own cold little body close to hers, the scent of her perfume and the rhythmical pounding of her heart calmed me down. She kept stroking my hair, and wrapped her elegant arms around me. Gently, she whispered sweet words into my ears.
"Don't worry now. Everything is going to be all right my little William. Everything is going to be fine."
I asked again when daddy was coming home, but she didn't say anything else. She just kept holding me in her arms silently, while the gathering light coming from the windows in her room started to return some colour to her sad features.
I blink a couple of times and the dark Victorian bedroom of my mother was no longer there, but the pain of that long past moment lingered. As I finally dare to open my eyes, they are greeted by yours. A sad smile adorns your face, contrasting sharply with that emotionless fire burning in your gaze.
Once again, you've managed to tick me off.
"Oh all right! I thought this would be one huge sadistic joke! Let me spill my guts out to you so you can get all psychological on me! Or maybe you're only after a few laughs. Catch some glimpses of how pathetic I was so you can joke around about it with your buddies over a few pints and some fags."
*I don't…understand*
"Oh come on! You're supposed to be this all-knowing, all-powerful ancient Big Bad Mojo guy and you don't even understand sarcasm? All right then, I give it to you plain and simple. I don't like you poking with your creepy voodoo sticks in my head. So quit it, Capice?"
The smile disappears from your face. Cocking your head you stare at me with an expression as blank as a piece of white paper. God, you are not exactly the brightest mind in the family, are you?
*I don't understand. Why are you angry? These are your memories, not mine.*
"That's exactly bloody well what they are, MY memories! And I DON'T want to remember them! I don't want to sit here and watch reruns from "This was your bloody awful Life William" while you're playing the enthusiastic audience and are getting all excited about it!"
*My dear friend. Is that what's bothering you? You don't like to recollect these memories? You prefer to have them buried deep in the darkest corner of your mind, never to see the light of day?*
Your cold gaze change, and suddenly, the fire in the middle of the circle lit up like a torch. Flames are shooting high up into the sky, blackening the low ceiling of the cave. As I stare into your eyes, the sparkles coming from the now ferocious burning fire taint your yellow orbs red.
Is this, I wonder with some amusement, the closest your lifeless expressions can get to anger?
*You are foolish William! Why are you denying yourself these memories? Don't you see how precious they are? I have seen and experienced what you once have through your recollection. For centuries, I haven't felt so alive.*
"What are you talking about? You mean you are seriously getting off on feeling heartache and misery?" I ask in total disbelieve. Bloody hell, you must be even madder then Dru.
*I've been imprisoned here for so long I've forgotten how it was to walk amongst the mortals. I'm cursed William, I cannot leave like you will as soon as you've found what you've been searching for. I've been denied of everything that demons and humans alike crave most in their existence; the ability to feel, to experience sorrow and fear, hate and love. It seems that I've forgotten and are almost incapable of these trades that define humanity. The Powers That Be have punished me too heavily for my past vanities.*
I remain silent till one thought suddenly crossed my mind. Glory. The Bimbo Hell God from the wrong Dimension. She needed to suck other people's minds because the vixen, although being an all Mighty Demony and all, wasn't capable to sustain her own. Are you something like her? A creature who's incapable of having emotions of its own and needs others to provide it with just that?
Are you asking me to dig up my most painful memories because they can nourish your ridiculous hunger for emotions?
Before I can start screaming at you, swearing at you with the vocabulary of a drunken sailor and calling you out of your bloody fucking mind to even think that I would just sit here quietly and let you drain me senseless without a proper fight, you once again take the words away from me. My lips move feverishly without producing a sound.
While the anger is still twirling in my stomach like a venomenous serpent, you place your hands on my cheeks. They are surprisingly cool, but not cold. In the shimmering glow of the now fading fire, your elegant arms stretching out towards me look like if they are made out of marble, not flesh.
*Don't be angry William. I won't steal your precious memories away from you. I just need you to share. You are so foolish my friend. You say that you don't want them because they hurt too much but as they are threatened to be taken away from you, you cannot part from them. Is this how humans are nowadays? So uncertain about what they are feeling?*
I feel the anger slip away from me although I'm seriously trying to hold on to it. But your touch, the coolness of your skin against mine, it drives away the rage of the demon inside of me and clouds my mind with a sense of serenity.
* Show me more William. Don't be afraid of these memories or what heartache they may bring back to you. You have once experienced these feelings, and they have shaped you. They have made you who you are.*
* They are an everlasting part of you.*
* They are as immortal as you are.*
TBC
Summary: Tired of his feelings for the Slayer, Spike ventures to Africa to seek help from a ancient demon, who forces him to take a trip down to memory lane. Feeding on the emotions Spike's memories evoke, the demon grows slowly stronger.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy are the creators of the Buffy universe and Spike. Please stop using my pretty Spike as a bloody punching bag!
Spoilers: end S6.
Rating: R, bad language, violence.
Note: based on spoilers - Spike goes to Africa to get his chip out, and probably doesn't return till next season. Just wanted to tell the tale of what happened to him in sunny Africa. Story told from his pov so it could be a bit confusing.
By Richard Bachman
Dedicated to all the Williams who are desperately trying to hold on to their Slayers.
2 Part 2; Digging up the past
*Close your eyes William.*
I do just that, and the radiance of your unnatural bright eyes is shut off from me completely, leaving me in my own private darkness.
*Show me what you see.*
I'm just about to pull my What The Fuck! face and tell you that I'm not sodding able to see anything with my eyes closed when a small light suddenly appears. It seems far away, and faint, still it seems as real as the stars in a night's sky. And then, it starts pulling nearer, as though I'm travelling trough a long, dark tunnel in which I can barely see the light at the end. I become curious of what I will find there, and even though I'm pretty sure that it is you who is guiding me, I need no more of encouragements to draw closer to it.
*What is the first thing in your life that you can remember William?*
*Show me*
Snowflakes.
I remember white, glittering snowflakes, delicate as ice flowers on the windows in winter, drifting down on an alien landscape. It created a hesitating blanket of white on a collection of pillars and stones, standing together in a strange formation, creating a ruin. In the middle was a statue, a lady with the face of a Goddess but with no arms. As the snow ceased to fall I was disappointed and I remember making it fall again. There was no magic involved, just those two clumsy little hands of mine, holding this miniature world upside down and back again to let the fake snow in the liquid sky to descend once more.
A snow globe. Much bigger then those cheap plastic ones you see nowadays. Much heavier too; they were made of crystal clear glass in the Victorian age. My mommy never let me pick it up by my own. She would ask Sarah, the chambermaid or Katherine, my nurse to lift it up and shake the snow for me. She was afraid that I would break my fragile little toy. She was afraid that I myself would break.
It wasn't fair.
The snow globe was mine.
My daddy gave it to me. Just before he went away again. I was crying because I didn't want him to leave. I nuzzled my tearstained face in his collar and made stains on his proper jacked. I remember that I was so close to him that all I could smell was his familiar scent, a mix of tobacco, leather and soap. He smiled at me, as I told him that I wanted to go with him. I wanted to go to where the white marble lady was standing, for my daddy had told me that it was there where he was going.
"Of course you can come with me one day William. But not now. I want you to stay here and take care of your mother for me. Once again, after I'm gone, you'll be the master of the house, and that comes with certain responsibilities."
My father looked fondly at me. I could see the reflection of a sad seven year old boy in his sky blue eyes.
"Don't cry now William. I will be back before the end of October. Remember when that is, my boy? Remember what I've told you last time I went away?"
I nodded hesitatingly.
"That's when the first leaves of the oak trees start to fall."
He gave me a sad but radiant smile. A smile only a father could give to his son. Great pride mixed with an incredible grief.
"Exactly! Now give me a hug before mister Bannister decides he has waited long enough and takes off with the carriage without your old man here."
I hugged him while fighting my tears. I was the man of the household now. I had to be strong for my mommy's sake. He kissed mommy goodbye and told her he would write to her as soon as he arrived. She nodded eagerly and whispered her last hurried words into his ears. She smiled but in her smile there was no happiness, only tears.
He kissed her once again, placed his hat on his head, pulling the rim far over his eyes. He took his cane and suitcase and stepped out of the door into the wavering April sun.
Then he was gone.
I waited all spring and all summer. Sitting on the windowsill every morning. Watching the leaves on the old oak tree in our garden turn from pale green into a deep dark colour, forming a thick patch of foliage that covered the patio underneath in shadows. I thought about what my daddy would be doing in that strange and exotic land, so far away from home. Oh yes, he had shown me pictures of that place, when he was letting me sit on his lap and telling me stories in front of the fireplace on cold winter nights. Black and white landscapes of mountains, higher then any hills that I've seen before and more ferocious then lightning and thunder. My daddy told me that one of them was sleeping, a giant not to be disturbed. Terrible things will and have happened when he awakes. At the foot of that dangerous mountain was a long lost city. It had once been beautiful, with busy streets, limestone houses and marble palaces. There were parks and fountains and statues of Gods. My daddy worked there. He read the words that were left behind in stones and walls by the people who have once lived there, but were now gone. The mountain killed them. He stirred from his deep slumber, roaring in anger. He smouldered everything with a rain of burning ashes and rivers of fire. When he finally got tired, and went back to sleep, the city was no more, and the people forgot about it as it was buried deep under the ground, far away from the sun. Then, one day, my daddy found it. He dusted off the grey ashes that covered the roads, houses and statues. He read the stories that told how the city once was. He knew, that although the ruins and rubbles left behind by the giant's wrath pictured a barren place, it had not always been like this. In his dreams, he knew how the city looked like before it was destroyed. He knew that it was glorious.
And I knew, because he had told me.
The leaves turned from deep dark green into yellow, then orange and red. As I sat by the window, I became more anxious every day. Last time my daddy returned home, the leaves on the oak tree had the same colour.
Then the leaves started to fall. First there were a few, lying scattered on the grass like precious rubies on sheets of green. But when I climbed up on the windowsill one horrible morning, the whole patio was covered under glossy leaves. I jumped off immediately and rushed down the hallway to my mother's room. She was still lying in bed, but she was not sleeping anymore. She looked like a statue, motionless and cold, while the shadows in her room made her skin look grey as if shaded by a veil. Clutching my hands on the soft fabric of her nightgown I've asked her why the leaves on the oak tree were all gone before my daddy had returned. I was scared. I've tried to count the days from the first morning that I've seen a single red leaf lying between the wet cobble stones of our courtyard, but I got confused a couple of days before and I was not sure anymore if this was day 22 or 21. Now all the leaves were gone and there were no more days left to count.
My mother didn't say anything. She just looked at me while she ran her hand through my wild brown locks. She had been very silent for days.
I crawled into her bed and settled myself in the warm and comforting niche that she formed with her soft body. As I pressed my own cold little body close to hers, the scent of her perfume and the rhythmical pounding of her heart calmed me down. She kept stroking my hair, and wrapped her elegant arms around me. Gently, she whispered sweet words into my ears.
"Don't worry now. Everything is going to be all right my little William. Everything is going to be fine."
I asked again when daddy was coming home, but she didn't say anything else. She just kept holding me in her arms silently, while the gathering light coming from the windows in her room started to return some colour to her sad features.
I blink a couple of times and the dark Victorian bedroom of my mother was no longer there, but the pain of that long past moment lingered. As I finally dare to open my eyes, they are greeted by yours. A sad smile adorns your face, contrasting sharply with that emotionless fire burning in your gaze.
Once again, you've managed to tick me off.
"Oh all right! I thought this would be one huge sadistic joke! Let me spill my guts out to you so you can get all psychological on me! Or maybe you're only after a few laughs. Catch some glimpses of how pathetic I was so you can joke around about it with your buddies over a few pints and some fags."
*I don't…understand*
"Oh come on! You're supposed to be this all-knowing, all-powerful ancient Big Bad Mojo guy and you don't even understand sarcasm? All right then, I give it to you plain and simple. I don't like you poking with your creepy voodoo sticks in my head. So quit it, Capice?"
The smile disappears from your face. Cocking your head you stare at me with an expression as blank as a piece of white paper. God, you are not exactly the brightest mind in the family, are you?
*I don't understand. Why are you angry? These are your memories, not mine.*
"That's exactly bloody well what they are, MY memories! And I DON'T want to remember them! I don't want to sit here and watch reruns from "This was your bloody awful Life William" while you're playing the enthusiastic audience and are getting all excited about it!"
*My dear friend. Is that what's bothering you? You don't like to recollect these memories? You prefer to have them buried deep in the darkest corner of your mind, never to see the light of day?*
Your cold gaze change, and suddenly, the fire in the middle of the circle lit up like a torch. Flames are shooting high up into the sky, blackening the low ceiling of the cave. As I stare into your eyes, the sparkles coming from the now ferocious burning fire taint your yellow orbs red.
Is this, I wonder with some amusement, the closest your lifeless expressions can get to anger?
*You are foolish William! Why are you denying yourself these memories? Don't you see how precious they are? I have seen and experienced what you once have through your recollection. For centuries, I haven't felt so alive.*
"What are you talking about? You mean you are seriously getting off on feeling heartache and misery?" I ask in total disbelieve. Bloody hell, you must be even madder then Dru.
*I've been imprisoned here for so long I've forgotten how it was to walk amongst the mortals. I'm cursed William, I cannot leave like you will as soon as you've found what you've been searching for. I've been denied of everything that demons and humans alike crave most in their existence; the ability to feel, to experience sorrow and fear, hate and love. It seems that I've forgotten and are almost incapable of these trades that define humanity. The Powers That Be have punished me too heavily for my past vanities.*
I remain silent till one thought suddenly crossed my mind. Glory. The Bimbo Hell God from the wrong Dimension. She needed to suck other people's minds because the vixen, although being an all Mighty Demony and all, wasn't capable to sustain her own. Are you something like her? A creature who's incapable of having emotions of its own and needs others to provide it with just that?
Are you asking me to dig up my most painful memories because they can nourish your ridiculous hunger for emotions?
Before I can start screaming at you, swearing at you with the vocabulary of a drunken sailor and calling you out of your bloody fucking mind to even think that I would just sit here quietly and let you drain me senseless without a proper fight, you once again take the words away from me. My lips move feverishly without producing a sound.
While the anger is still twirling in my stomach like a venomenous serpent, you place your hands on my cheeks. They are surprisingly cool, but not cold. In the shimmering glow of the now fading fire, your elegant arms stretching out towards me look like if they are made out of marble, not flesh.
*Don't be angry William. I won't steal your precious memories away from you. I just need you to share. You are so foolish my friend. You say that you don't want them because they hurt too much but as they are threatened to be taken away from you, you cannot part from them. Is this how humans are nowadays? So uncertain about what they are feeling?*
I feel the anger slip away from me although I'm seriously trying to hold on to it. But your touch, the coolness of your skin against mine, it drives away the rage of the demon inside of me and clouds my mind with a sense of serenity.
* Show me more William. Don't be afraid of these memories or what heartache they may bring back to you. You have once experienced these feelings, and they have shaped you. They have made you who you are.*
* They are an everlasting part of you.*
* They are as immortal as you are.*
TBC
