Day 30
Thirty days. She's been gone thirty days. It's a strange thing, really, that I've noticed the passage of time so clearly. I'm a vampire. We live forever. Forever. Thirty days for us is such a small amount of time that really, we don't even bother to notice. What's thirty days when you've got eternity? Of course, for me, it's an eternity where every moment, I'll see her face in my mind and be reminded of my failure. Thirty days where I have to remember that an old man, well, demon, beat me so easily. No one has ever gotten the drop on Ol' Spike that easily, not even the Slayer. Yet, when the chips are down, and everyone is dependin' on me to be the hero, I fold. Stupid, pathetic excuse for a vampire, can't even do the one thing she needed me to. I couldn't protect Dawn, so Buffy had to die to fix my mistake. It isn't fair, not to Buffy, and not to Bite Size. Why should Dawn have to suffer? Why wasn't it me?
She told me, in her house that night, that we weren't all gonna make it. I figured she was talkin' about me. I was the expendable one, after all. Watcher's the brains, Red and Glinda, the power, and the Whelp and his ex- demon squeeze were the heart. I was just a nifty added bonus, like the toy in a Cracker Jack box. Altogether unnecessary, but kinda cool to have. So, it stands to reason, in my mind, that I would be the first person she'd be willin' to sacrifice to save her sis. Hell, like I said, she charged me to protect her. With my very life, if need be. Wasn't said, but I knew. None of us had the strength to stand nose to nose with Hell Skank 'cept for me and her. 'Course, in the end, it was Buffy whippin' Glory's lopsided ass, and me fallin' fifteen stories from the top of the scaffold, courtesy of Doc. Because of that, Buffy had to jump. Should've been me.
Since that night, I've patrolled with the Scooby's, keepin' the beasties and other nasties under control while Red continues to rebuild the bot. She's got it put back together, but there are programmin' issues. Damn piece of plastic still has all that 'special' programmin' in its head. Every time it gets turned on, it starts with the 'Oh, Spike!' and I just want to smash it to bits. It has no right to look like her or sound like her! Most of all, it has no right taking Buffy's place. But Red and the Watcher are adamant. No one must know the Slayer is dead.
Nibblet's taking this all the worst. Not only can she not publicly grieve for her big sis, now she has to share a house with a thing programmed to act like her. Can't say I'd want to be the one picking up the tab on her therapy bills. Still, the girl's just like her sister. She puts on the stiff upper lip, throws her shoulders back, and fights her way through each and every day. Thirty days. I know she's counting too.
Tonight, I got the night off from patrolling. Red wants to take the bot on a test run, so I get to stay with Dawn. Which is what I should have been doing since day one. I was the one charged to protect her, not them. I won't fail again. So, I let her stay up way past her supposed bed time that the Scooby's have imposed on her and we have ourselves some fun. We watch R rated movies, I teach her how to pick locks, we play cards, I teach her how to cheat at cards, and we tell each other stories. Not like I used to, when she would sneak out of her room to hang out with Big Bad, but new stories. We try to figure out how some of the things that have gone down in this town involving me, Buffy and the Scooby's without Dawn there. Those monks did a good job planting her in all of our minds. Like when me and Buffy first teamed up against Angelus. The only thing that stopped her from stakin' me good and proper was the fact that I rescued Dawn, pulled her out of the mansion where they were holdin' her for bait. Least, that's how we remember it. It didn't really happen that way, but that's all we know. I don't really like to talk about this stuff, I don't like her thinkin' that she's not real, but I'll play along. Anything to help her move on. Anything to help me move on too.
I take a break from story time to get a smoke in on the back porch. The moon and stars are particularly bright tonight. I can see clearly for miles in all directions. I take in a deep drag, slowly blowing the smoke out through my nostrils, letting the tobacco sooth me. I go to pull out my flask, to take a nip of bourbon, when Dawn joins me on the stoop. She snuggles up close, shivering a bit, though it's not all that cold out here. So I take off my beloved duster, won in combat from one of Buffy's predecessors, and wrap Dawn up in it. Only fitting, I suppose, that the coat of a fallen Slayer should give comfort to the sister of another.
"Spike?", she says, lookin' up at me with those big blue Bambi eyes of hers.
"Yeah?", I respond.
"Why do you smoke?"
"Dunno, Bit. I didn't when I was human. Guess it was just somethin' I picked up along the way from Angel."
"Angel?" She just crinkled up her nose at the sound of his name. I just love that, she hates as bad as I do.
"Yeah, the prancing poofter himself. When we used to run together, I'd try so hard to be what he wanted me to be. 'Course, I didn't make it too easy on him, what with his always goin' for easy kills and what not. Anyway, he used to chomp on these huge friggin' cigars. Cubans, if I remember right. Even when I hated him the most for the beatings he'd put on me, I still thought he looked so cool smokin' the cigar. So it was a matter of time 'fore I was smokin' 'em too. 'Course, when I finally realized what a prancing lightweight that Angel was combined with what I learned about cigar imagery from an essay by one Sigmund Freud, I switched to cigarettes. The irony of the whole bit, though, is that the word that we Brits use for cigarettes is the word you Americans use for poofters." Dawn looks up at me for a moment, shock flashing across her face.
"You mean that-every time you call Angel or someone else a poof-"
I grin evilly. "Yep."
She smacks me on the arm. "Spike! That's so mean! How could you use the way a person wants to live their life as an insult! What about Willow and Tara?!"
I shrug. "What can I say, Nibblet? I'm Evil."
"No you're not. You're a good guy now. You help us fight-"
"I do what I do 'cause I promised sis I'd protect you. Plus, I like killin' stuff."
"Sure, Spike. Whatever." She leans up against me again, all forgiven. "So, uh, can I like, have a cigarette?" I look down at her, eyebrow raised. "I just want to try one, see what the big deal is." I pull out my pack and offer her one.
"Here. Go to town." She takes it shakily, like she's gonna get in trouble or something. She places it between her lips as I flick open my trusty Zippo and light for her. "Now, what you do is take a drag. You inhale once to get the smoke into your mouth, then inhale again to take it into your lungs. Not too much though," I say as she begins hacking, "or you'll start to choke."
She throws the cigarette away, still coughing. "Gross! How can you smoke those things?!"
"Takes practice, Bit. Plus, as I am undead, I do not choke." She settles back down, her experimentation with tobacco over. I figure she'll never pick another smoke up again as long as she lives. I got this theory, see, that if you tell someone, especially a kid, that they can't do something or they aren't allowed to do try something, they'll go out of their way to do it. But, if you let them do it, like smoking, they'll find they may not like it so much. It's like how Dawn drinks coffee. Her mum, Buffy and the Scooby's all told her she was too young for coffee, but that didn't stop her. Now she drinks the foul stuff by the gallon. If they'd have let her take a drink with no arguments, she'd never have gotten hooked on the stuff. Makes sense to me.
So, we sit together on the porch in silence for hours, staring off into the night sky. Finally, Dawn speaks again.
"Which one do you think she is?" I turn to look down at her. Tears are silently falling down her face.
"What's that, pet?"
"The stars. Which one is Buffy? I mean, that's Heaven up there, right? A- and Buffy went to Heaven, didn't she?" She's starting to sob. I'd better say something, to help her feel better. And hopefully make myself feel better, too.
"'Course she's in Heaven, Dawn. She was a hero, an' hero's get a free pass into Heaven. And 'fore you ask, as the resident expert on all things Good And Evil, I know these sorts o' things. Now, as to which star she is, that's too easy. She is the biggest brightest star in all the heavens." I take her face in my hands, clearing away tears with my thumbs. I look into her eyes. "Because she has to be." She throws her arms around me and cries into my chest. I stroke her hair and back and gradually the crying ceases. She pulls back from me slightly, not letting go of me.
"Thanks, Spike. I feel better."
"I'm glad to hear that, Nibblet. I feel better too." She lets go of me and sits back down next to me. We sit a few moments longer when I slip my hand into one of my duster's pockets, fishin' out my flask. I uncap it and take a deep swig, letting the bourbon burn my throat. Uh oh, she's staring at the flask.
"Is that blood in that flask?"
"No, it's liquid courage." On her slightly puzzled look, I explain, "Bourbon. Alcohol is called liquid courage 'cause it lets you forget your fears and inhibitions. Lets you forget your pain too, sometimes."
"Can I try some?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I put Nibblet in bed shortly after her first and here's hoping last encounter with alcohol. She didn't much like bourbon either. Not too much later, the witches and the bot come prancing in like they won the World Cup.
"Test run went great, Spike! Soon, no one'll know that Buffy's gone!", says Red a little too cheerfully for my taste.
"'Cept for us, right?", I reply. Her face instantly falls. Good.
"Yeah, except for us." She takes Glinda's hand and retreats upstairs, no doubt to share a snog and a few tears. Which leaves me with the thing.
"Oh, Spike! Willow says I'm getting so much better at being like the other Buffy!"
"Yeah, that's real grand. Cheers for us." I don't look at the thing. It makes me sick to my gut to even think I wanted a sex bot.
"Willow is trying very hard to fix my programming. She is very smart. And recently gay!"
"Yeah, that's great and all, but I really must be going." I make my way through the door, the bot following me. I turn to it and say, "You stay here. With Red and Glinda."
"But Spike", the thing whines, "Don't you want to ravage me?"
"NO! Stop saying those things! I'll tear you apart, you infernal machine!" I stomp away before I follow through on my threat. The bot isn't following. Good. I get to my crypt just before sunrise and hit my bed. I'm asleep almost as soon as I hit it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oh, goody, here I am saving Buffy again. Been a variation of two themes ever since these dreams started. Either I beat Doc on the scaffold, or he's out of the picture (Whelp killed him two nights ago), and I kill Ben. They're starting to get repetitive, and my attention span is fading rapidly. Oh, yeah, it's an 'I Kill Doc' dream. These are usually quite good, since Buffy always falls into my arms and everyone thinks I'm the greatest thing since pre sliced bread. Let's see, oh that's good, I dodged the knife this time. Yep, that's about right, tossin' him over the ledge (it's been in every one of these dreams), then I untie Dawn and get her down. Buffy's beaten Glory, and Ben's lying there, bleeding. Giles heads over to finish the job. I let him, covering his absence with a bunch of useless dribble that gets all the Scooby's talking. Oh, wait, Ben's dead and Giles is back. I can shut up now. Yes, yes, we won and we should celebrate and all that rot. It's still dark, so I can walk to my car without the running, and Dawn and Buffy follow me over. We head back to her place, where I hole up in the cellar until nightfall. I'm the Big Hero. Blah, blah, blah. This is really starting to bug me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Day 31
I wonder if those Powers That Be types that Angel works for are behind this. Bet they cooked this whole little scheme up, 'Let's torture the vamp some more, show him how he could've done his job right like any self respecting hero person'. I'm still waitin' for the dream where Angel shows up and saves the day with his bleedin' Nancy Boy hair gel and the Angelmobile. Then I'll know for sure that it's the PTB, 'cause hey, everyone knows how much cooler and heroic that poof is than me. He wouldn't let Buffy down, oh no. He's on a mission of redemption. Well, news flash, wankers. Soul boy didn't show up. He was in La La Land doing whatever it is he does with his nights, and missed the invitation. He didn't even know she died. So, sod off, PTB! At least I did my best! And at least Buffy earned her reward for saving the world. She's no doubt happy, with her mum, watchin' us and all that. Good for her. She shouldn't have to deal with any more pain after jumping through that portal. Dying like that, in a mystical hole in reality-
Wait one. She didn't die a normal death. She was killed in a mystical hole in reality. Would she still go to Heaven? I mean, if her soul left her body before the portal closed, she could've ended up anywhere. I've got to get some answers.
The sun isn't near setting yet, so I slip through the sewers to get to the Magic Box. Watcher's got to have books on this sort of business. Hell, he's got books on everything else that goes on in this sodding town. Stands to figure that he's got something on where you go when you ...die. So, I slip in through the basement, have myself a look around. Ooh, burba weed. Makes blood spicy. Have to nick some for later. Okay, time to get down to business. Won't be able to go through the books up front until they're all gone for the night, but there are a few texts down here I can go through. Let's see what we've got here: The Codex. No, the prophecies involving the Slayer's death in here have already occurred. Nothing else here seems to catch my eye. Must have all the good stuff upstairs in the restricted section-oh, wait a minute, the stuff on Glory and the Key. That'll have some answers! Now, let's see where they've stashed it all...
"Spike? Is that you?" Damn. Caught red handed. By Red, of all people. Heh. Caught red handed by Red. That's funny. Uh oh, she's got that look on her face. Guessing that she wants an answer. Best to oblige. Don't want to be the first vampire horny toad.
"Yeah, Red, its me. I'm just, uhm, stealing stuff from the storeroom here. You know, Evil and all." I'm doing my best to look convincing, but I don't think she's buying it.
"Right, except I don't buy you stealing books, well, except for when you had one of your flunkies steal the du Lac manuscript...okay I get you stealing books. Why?"
"I really don't want to talk about it."
"I find it funny that you think you have a choice", she says, her lips barely even moving. No wait, her lips didn't move at all. Bloody Hell, she's talking in my head again.
"Get the Bloody Hell out of my skull, Red. You won't like what you find in there." She ignores me, goes digging around anyway. Damn telepaths, don't know when to quit. "So how are you able to read my thoughts anyway?" I ask, "Thought vampire minds were to telepaths that our bodies are to mirrors."
"This is witchcraft, Spike. It's a whole new set of rules than you're used to dealing with", she thinks at me. She starts rooting around some more. It's getting annoying. She's been doin' this a lot lately, just using magic when there's a nice, normal way to do things. Time to teach her a lesson. I focus my thoughts as tight as I can on the worst, most vile things I've ever seen or done. Then I actively think about them, reliving each and every experience. It doesn't take but a second before Red breaks contact and lurches over to the nearest trash can, retching her guts out.
"Evening kiddies, this course of instruction is 'Why We Shouldn't Dig Around Spike's Brain'. Lesson the first: You aren't ready to see the things I've seen. Do we need a second lesson?" She shakes her head weakly as she spits into the trash can a few more times. Finally she stands back up, on shaky legs.
"Okay, no more digging in Spike brain. Not going there again. Yeesh, Spike. Vile much?"
"Yeah, well, I'm Evil. With a capital 'E'. Kinda goes with the territory. Now, since you're here, I might as well spill as to why I'm down here. I had a thought last night, when I was watching Nibblet. Where did Buffy go?"
"Spike, I don't understand what you mean. She's...gone. You know that."
"Yeah, I know she's gone, but where? She jumped into a portal that mystically tore down the walls of all dimensions. Buffy was...well, you know..."
"You mean, that since she was...dead...before the portal closed..."
"Did her soul make it to Heaven? I told Dawn she was the brightest star in Heaven. Now, no matter how metaphorical that is, it's still something that she needs to hold onto. I don't want to have lied to her. I need to know. Is she happy? Is she at peace where she is? I need to know, Red. I need to know that...that MY failure isn't costing her in the...wherever." I'm pacing at this point, smoking furiously. Red's staring at me like I've grown a second, good head. Then she starts to cry.
"Oh, God! Sp-Spike, me and Tara have thought about that, too. We don't know where she is, or even a way to locate her in whatever dimension her soul may be in!" She's sobbing real good and hard now. She can barely breathe, but she's trying to finish what she's saying. "She died a mystical death! She could be anywhere! Her soul, it could be in a Hell Dimension! Oh, God! What are we gonna do?!" She's looking at me like I'm the boss or something. I'm as clueless as she is. And I'm hurting even more right now than when I woke up this afternoon. I just shrugged off the last dream I had, and now it turns out that my failure is costing her.
"There's nothing we can do, luv, but carry on. We carry on for Buffy's sake. And we carry on for Dawn. It's all we can do." With that, I leave post haste. As I slide into the sewers, I hear Red say something to herself. I don't really get what she means, but I file it away, for future reference.
She says, "It's not all we can do...".
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I patrol solo tonight. Red's called an emergency Scooby meeting, of which I am conveniently not invited to. Makes no difference to me, though. All they'll do is bicker about how to best keep things going without Buffy, when all they need to do is what I do: Just get out there and fight. I want this night to go fast, though. I need to get to sleep. I've got dreams to dream, and I'll never take them for granted again.
Thirty days. She's been gone thirty days. It's a strange thing, really, that I've noticed the passage of time so clearly. I'm a vampire. We live forever. Forever. Thirty days for us is such a small amount of time that really, we don't even bother to notice. What's thirty days when you've got eternity? Of course, for me, it's an eternity where every moment, I'll see her face in my mind and be reminded of my failure. Thirty days where I have to remember that an old man, well, demon, beat me so easily. No one has ever gotten the drop on Ol' Spike that easily, not even the Slayer. Yet, when the chips are down, and everyone is dependin' on me to be the hero, I fold. Stupid, pathetic excuse for a vampire, can't even do the one thing she needed me to. I couldn't protect Dawn, so Buffy had to die to fix my mistake. It isn't fair, not to Buffy, and not to Bite Size. Why should Dawn have to suffer? Why wasn't it me?
She told me, in her house that night, that we weren't all gonna make it. I figured she was talkin' about me. I was the expendable one, after all. Watcher's the brains, Red and Glinda, the power, and the Whelp and his ex- demon squeeze were the heart. I was just a nifty added bonus, like the toy in a Cracker Jack box. Altogether unnecessary, but kinda cool to have. So, it stands to reason, in my mind, that I would be the first person she'd be willin' to sacrifice to save her sis. Hell, like I said, she charged me to protect her. With my very life, if need be. Wasn't said, but I knew. None of us had the strength to stand nose to nose with Hell Skank 'cept for me and her. 'Course, in the end, it was Buffy whippin' Glory's lopsided ass, and me fallin' fifteen stories from the top of the scaffold, courtesy of Doc. Because of that, Buffy had to jump. Should've been me.
Since that night, I've patrolled with the Scooby's, keepin' the beasties and other nasties under control while Red continues to rebuild the bot. She's got it put back together, but there are programmin' issues. Damn piece of plastic still has all that 'special' programmin' in its head. Every time it gets turned on, it starts with the 'Oh, Spike!' and I just want to smash it to bits. It has no right to look like her or sound like her! Most of all, it has no right taking Buffy's place. But Red and the Watcher are adamant. No one must know the Slayer is dead.
Nibblet's taking this all the worst. Not only can she not publicly grieve for her big sis, now she has to share a house with a thing programmed to act like her. Can't say I'd want to be the one picking up the tab on her therapy bills. Still, the girl's just like her sister. She puts on the stiff upper lip, throws her shoulders back, and fights her way through each and every day. Thirty days. I know she's counting too.
Tonight, I got the night off from patrolling. Red wants to take the bot on a test run, so I get to stay with Dawn. Which is what I should have been doing since day one. I was the one charged to protect her, not them. I won't fail again. So, I let her stay up way past her supposed bed time that the Scooby's have imposed on her and we have ourselves some fun. We watch R rated movies, I teach her how to pick locks, we play cards, I teach her how to cheat at cards, and we tell each other stories. Not like I used to, when she would sneak out of her room to hang out with Big Bad, but new stories. We try to figure out how some of the things that have gone down in this town involving me, Buffy and the Scooby's without Dawn there. Those monks did a good job planting her in all of our minds. Like when me and Buffy first teamed up against Angelus. The only thing that stopped her from stakin' me good and proper was the fact that I rescued Dawn, pulled her out of the mansion where they were holdin' her for bait. Least, that's how we remember it. It didn't really happen that way, but that's all we know. I don't really like to talk about this stuff, I don't like her thinkin' that she's not real, but I'll play along. Anything to help her move on. Anything to help me move on too.
I take a break from story time to get a smoke in on the back porch. The moon and stars are particularly bright tonight. I can see clearly for miles in all directions. I take in a deep drag, slowly blowing the smoke out through my nostrils, letting the tobacco sooth me. I go to pull out my flask, to take a nip of bourbon, when Dawn joins me on the stoop. She snuggles up close, shivering a bit, though it's not all that cold out here. So I take off my beloved duster, won in combat from one of Buffy's predecessors, and wrap Dawn up in it. Only fitting, I suppose, that the coat of a fallen Slayer should give comfort to the sister of another.
"Spike?", she says, lookin' up at me with those big blue Bambi eyes of hers.
"Yeah?", I respond.
"Why do you smoke?"
"Dunno, Bit. I didn't when I was human. Guess it was just somethin' I picked up along the way from Angel."
"Angel?" She just crinkled up her nose at the sound of his name. I just love that, she hates as bad as I do.
"Yeah, the prancing poofter himself. When we used to run together, I'd try so hard to be what he wanted me to be. 'Course, I didn't make it too easy on him, what with his always goin' for easy kills and what not. Anyway, he used to chomp on these huge friggin' cigars. Cubans, if I remember right. Even when I hated him the most for the beatings he'd put on me, I still thought he looked so cool smokin' the cigar. So it was a matter of time 'fore I was smokin' 'em too. 'Course, when I finally realized what a prancing lightweight that Angel was combined with what I learned about cigar imagery from an essay by one Sigmund Freud, I switched to cigarettes. The irony of the whole bit, though, is that the word that we Brits use for cigarettes is the word you Americans use for poofters." Dawn looks up at me for a moment, shock flashing across her face.
"You mean that-every time you call Angel or someone else a poof-"
I grin evilly. "Yep."
She smacks me on the arm. "Spike! That's so mean! How could you use the way a person wants to live their life as an insult! What about Willow and Tara?!"
I shrug. "What can I say, Nibblet? I'm Evil."
"No you're not. You're a good guy now. You help us fight-"
"I do what I do 'cause I promised sis I'd protect you. Plus, I like killin' stuff."
"Sure, Spike. Whatever." She leans up against me again, all forgiven. "So, uh, can I like, have a cigarette?" I look down at her, eyebrow raised. "I just want to try one, see what the big deal is." I pull out my pack and offer her one.
"Here. Go to town." She takes it shakily, like she's gonna get in trouble or something. She places it between her lips as I flick open my trusty Zippo and light for her. "Now, what you do is take a drag. You inhale once to get the smoke into your mouth, then inhale again to take it into your lungs. Not too much though," I say as she begins hacking, "or you'll start to choke."
She throws the cigarette away, still coughing. "Gross! How can you smoke those things?!"
"Takes practice, Bit. Plus, as I am undead, I do not choke." She settles back down, her experimentation with tobacco over. I figure she'll never pick another smoke up again as long as she lives. I got this theory, see, that if you tell someone, especially a kid, that they can't do something or they aren't allowed to do try something, they'll go out of their way to do it. But, if you let them do it, like smoking, they'll find they may not like it so much. It's like how Dawn drinks coffee. Her mum, Buffy and the Scooby's all told her she was too young for coffee, but that didn't stop her. Now she drinks the foul stuff by the gallon. If they'd have let her take a drink with no arguments, she'd never have gotten hooked on the stuff. Makes sense to me.
So, we sit together on the porch in silence for hours, staring off into the night sky. Finally, Dawn speaks again.
"Which one do you think she is?" I turn to look down at her. Tears are silently falling down her face.
"What's that, pet?"
"The stars. Which one is Buffy? I mean, that's Heaven up there, right? A- and Buffy went to Heaven, didn't she?" She's starting to sob. I'd better say something, to help her feel better. And hopefully make myself feel better, too.
"'Course she's in Heaven, Dawn. She was a hero, an' hero's get a free pass into Heaven. And 'fore you ask, as the resident expert on all things Good And Evil, I know these sorts o' things. Now, as to which star she is, that's too easy. She is the biggest brightest star in all the heavens." I take her face in my hands, clearing away tears with my thumbs. I look into her eyes. "Because she has to be." She throws her arms around me and cries into my chest. I stroke her hair and back and gradually the crying ceases. She pulls back from me slightly, not letting go of me.
"Thanks, Spike. I feel better."
"I'm glad to hear that, Nibblet. I feel better too." She lets go of me and sits back down next to me. We sit a few moments longer when I slip my hand into one of my duster's pockets, fishin' out my flask. I uncap it and take a deep swig, letting the bourbon burn my throat. Uh oh, she's staring at the flask.
"Is that blood in that flask?"
"No, it's liquid courage." On her slightly puzzled look, I explain, "Bourbon. Alcohol is called liquid courage 'cause it lets you forget your fears and inhibitions. Lets you forget your pain too, sometimes."
"Can I try some?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I put Nibblet in bed shortly after her first and here's hoping last encounter with alcohol. She didn't much like bourbon either. Not too much later, the witches and the bot come prancing in like they won the World Cup.
"Test run went great, Spike! Soon, no one'll know that Buffy's gone!", says Red a little too cheerfully for my taste.
"'Cept for us, right?", I reply. Her face instantly falls. Good.
"Yeah, except for us." She takes Glinda's hand and retreats upstairs, no doubt to share a snog and a few tears. Which leaves me with the thing.
"Oh, Spike! Willow says I'm getting so much better at being like the other Buffy!"
"Yeah, that's real grand. Cheers for us." I don't look at the thing. It makes me sick to my gut to even think I wanted a sex bot.
"Willow is trying very hard to fix my programming. She is very smart. And recently gay!"
"Yeah, that's great and all, but I really must be going." I make my way through the door, the bot following me. I turn to it and say, "You stay here. With Red and Glinda."
"But Spike", the thing whines, "Don't you want to ravage me?"
"NO! Stop saying those things! I'll tear you apart, you infernal machine!" I stomp away before I follow through on my threat. The bot isn't following. Good. I get to my crypt just before sunrise and hit my bed. I'm asleep almost as soon as I hit it.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oh, goody, here I am saving Buffy again. Been a variation of two themes ever since these dreams started. Either I beat Doc on the scaffold, or he's out of the picture (Whelp killed him two nights ago), and I kill Ben. They're starting to get repetitive, and my attention span is fading rapidly. Oh, yeah, it's an 'I Kill Doc' dream. These are usually quite good, since Buffy always falls into my arms and everyone thinks I'm the greatest thing since pre sliced bread. Let's see, oh that's good, I dodged the knife this time. Yep, that's about right, tossin' him over the ledge (it's been in every one of these dreams), then I untie Dawn and get her down. Buffy's beaten Glory, and Ben's lying there, bleeding. Giles heads over to finish the job. I let him, covering his absence with a bunch of useless dribble that gets all the Scooby's talking. Oh, wait, Ben's dead and Giles is back. I can shut up now. Yes, yes, we won and we should celebrate and all that rot. It's still dark, so I can walk to my car without the running, and Dawn and Buffy follow me over. We head back to her place, where I hole up in the cellar until nightfall. I'm the Big Hero. Blah, blah, blah. This is really starting to bug me.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Day 31
I wonder if those Powers That Be types that Angel works for are behind this. Bet they cooked this whole little scheme up, 'Let's torture the vamp some more, show him how he could've done his job right like any self respecting hero person'. I'm still waitin' for the dream where Angel shows up and saves the day with his bleedin' Nancy Boy hair gel and the Angelmobile. Then I'll know for sure that it's the PTB, 'cause hey, everyone knows how much cooler and heroic that poof is than me. He wouldn't let Buffy down, oh no. He's on a mission of redemption. Well, news flash, wankers. Soul boy didn't show up. He was in La La Land doing whatever it is he does with his nights, and missed the invitation. He didn't even know she died. So, sod off, PTB! At least I did my best! And at least Buffy earned her reward for saving the world. She's no doubt happy, with her mum, watchin' us and all that. Good for her. She shouldn't have to deal with any more pain after jumping through that portal. Dying like that, in a mystical hole in reality-
Wait one. She didn't die a normal death. She was killed in a mystical hole in reality. Would she still go to Heaven? I mean, if her soul left her body before the portal closed, she could've ended up anywhere. I've got to get some answers.
The sun isn't near setting yet, so I slip through the sewers to get to the Magic Box. Watcher's got to have books on this sort of business. Hell, he's got books on everything else that goes on in this sodding town. Stands to figure that he's got something on where you go when you ...die. So, I slip in through the basement, have myself a look around. Ooh, burba weed. Makes blood spicy. Have to nick some for later. Okay, time to get down to business. Won't be able to go through the books up front until they're all gone for the night, but there are a few texts down here I can go through. Let's see what we've got here: The Codex. No, the prophecies involving the Slayer's death in here have already occurred. Nothing else here seems to catch my eye. Must have all the good stuff upstairs in the restricted section-oh, wait a minute, the stuff on Glory and the Key. That'll have some answers! Now, let's see where they've stashed it all...
"Spike? Is that you?" Damn. Caught red handed. By Red, of all people. Heh. Caught red handed by Red. That's funny. Uh oh, she's got that look on her face. Guessing that she wants an answer. Best to oblige. Don't want to be the first vampire horny toad.
"Yeah, Red, its me. I'm just, uhm, stealing stuff from the storeroom here. You know, Evil and all." I'm doing my best to look convincing, but I don't think she's buying it.
"Right, except I don't buy you stealing books, well, except for when you had one of your flunkies steal the du Lac manuscript...okay I get you stealing books. Why?"
"I really don't want to talk about it."
"I find it funny that you think you have a choice", she says, her lips barely even moving. No wait, her lips didn't move at all. Bloody Hell, she's talking in my head again.
"Get the Bloody Hell out of my skull, Red. You won't like what you find in there." She ignores me, goes digging around anyway. Damn telepaths, don't know when to quit. "So how are you able to read my thoughts anyway?" I ask, "Thought vampire minds were to telepaths that our bodies are to mirrors."
"This is witchcraft, Spike. It's a whole new set of rules than you're used to dealing with", she thinks at me. She starts rooting around some more. It's getting annoying. She's been doin' this a lot lately, just using magic when there's a nice, normal way to do things. Time to teach her a lesson. I focus my thoughts as tight as I can on the worst, most vile things I've ever seen or done. Then I actively think about them, reliving each and every experience. It doesn't take but a second before Red breaks contact and lurches over to the nearest trash can, retching her guts out.
"Evening kiddies, this course of instruction is 'Why We Shouldn't Dig Around Spike's Brain'. Lesson the first: You aren't ready to see the things I've seen. Do we need a second lesson?" She shakes her head weakly as she spits into the trash can a few more times. Finally she stands back up, on shaky legs.
"Okay, no more digging in Spike brain. Not going there again. Yeesh, Spike. Vile much?"
"Yeah, well, I'm Evil. With a capital 'E'. Kinda goes with the territory. Now, since you're here, I might as well spill as to why I'm down here. I had a thought last night, when I was watching Nibblet. Where did Buffy go?"
"Spike, I don't understand what you mean. She's...gone. You know that."
"Yeah, I know she's gone, but where? She jumped into a portal that mystically tore down the walls of all dimensions. Buffy was...well, you know..."
"You mean, that since she was...dead...before the portal closed..."
"Did her soul make it to Heaven? I told Dawn she was the brightest star in Heaven. Now, no matter how metaphorical that is, it's still something that she needs to hold onto. I don't want to have lied to her. I need to know. Is she happy? Is she at peace where she is? I need to know, Red. I need to know that...that MY failure isn't costing her in the...wherever." I'm pacing at this point, smoking furiously. Red's staring at me like I've grown a second, good head. Then she starts to cry.
"Oh, God! Sp-Spike, me and Tara have thought about that, too. We don't know where she is, or even a way to locate her in whatever dimension her soul may be in!" She's sobbing real good and hard now. She can barely breathe, but she's trying to finish what she's saying. "She died a mystical death! She could be anywhere! Her soul, it could be in a Hell Dimension! Oh, God! What are we gonna do?!" She's looking at me like I'm the boss or something. I'm as clueless as she is. And I'm hurting even more right now than when I woke up this afternoon. I just shrugged off the last dream I had, and now it turns out that my failure is costing her.
"There's nothing we can do, luv, but carry on. We carry on for Buffy's sake. And we carry on for Dawn. It's all we can do." With that, I leave post haste. As I slide into the sewers, I hear Red say something to herself. I don't really get what she means, but I file it away, for future reference.
She says, "It's not all we can do...".
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I patrol solo tonight. Red's called an emergency Scooby meeting, of which I am conveniently not invited to. Makes no difference to me, though. All they'll do is bicker about how to best keep things going without Buffy, when all they need to do is what I do: Just get out there and fight. I want this night to go fast, though. I need to get to sleep. I've got dreams to dream, and I'll never take them for granted again.