Chapter 11
I didn't...
I didn't...
I didn't...
The first thing he noticed was that he was in a chair.
Muscles gripped instantly.
Shooting up ready to run back into the nothingness. He didn't care where he went, he did not want to be there. He couldn't see it again. He couldn't know what he did. The nothingness was sanctuary, no blood, no crying. But now he was back, and desperately trying to get away from what was about to play before him.
His eyes clamped shut, waiting for the sound of leather and whimpers. But heard nothing. He could feel the wall against his back. Spike knew he was in the room, but nothing happened.
Eyes reopening, wildly searching and finding the surroundings were different. It almost seemed familiar. A room, well lit, tables, chairs, bookshelves, artifacts, price tags, cashiers counter, and a round table.
His unnecessary breathing started to deepened no longer coming out in shallow pants.
This wasn't it. He wasn't there. Doing those things.
Spike's breathing stopped instantly. He could see them. The two people he loved and a man in the background. Looking at him. Eyes trained on him. Accusing without words.
Unconsciously his voice issued words over and over while he pushed way from there gazes, frantically trying to flee. Trying to melt through the wall and into the void he felt was behind it. He couldn't be there, knowing that what would happen next. As hard as he tried he couldn't push through. For a second Spike thought he was back in the chair. But his legs were strait. The wall wasn't giving way.
He heard a voice, trying badly to block it out he turned his head away, eyes shut, tears leaking out.
"Spike"
His eyes opening instantly.
This wasn't what happened.
He turning hesitantly, ready to whirl around if it was the same sight he saw play before him countless times. But the image stayed the same.
Seeing nothing was going to happen he took a moment.
His back was against bookshelves. They were there, but they were standing. Not tied to chairs. He wasn't behind them, just a man with glasses. Another man and two other ladies were there too. His body relaxed a bit. Hidden muscles unclenched. Relieving the burning sensation in them.
His eyes moved to the people behind the Buffy and Dawn. Spike felt the fog start to lift. His mind suddenly recognized them.
GILES! WILLOW! ANYA! XANDER!
He wasn't there anymore. Wasn't in the darkness. He was out.
Leaning his head back against a shelf his eyes closed and breathed in as his whole body relaxed. Spike heard Buffy's voice again. It wasn't filled with hate, just calm concern.
Lazily lifting his head he opened his eyes. There was her sweet face, the eyes that penetrated his soul, the roundness of her cheek, her neck curving down. A long slice that dripped stripes of blood.
His body shot into tension. Hands went to his eyes, tying to keep the sight away.
That wasn't real, you didn't kill them.
Body tense, he stood waiting for the sounds of the scene to play again. Nothing. No voices, shrieks or pleads. Silence. He felt something wet on his hands and face. Pulling them from his face, he found they were covered in blood. He could taste it as a drop slipped in the corner of his mouth.
Spike's whole body jumped at the sight of his hands, then began wiping chaotically at them, trying desperately to get it off. But no matter what they stayed wet and dripping.
Holding his hands down and away his eyes shut again, willing the image to leave. The feeling slowly dissipated and he felt a weight in his hands. Eyes opening, returning them to his hands he saw he was holding Dawns head. Neck bent at a odd angle. Eyes glazed over. Staring right at him.
Releasing instantly, hands shooting to the sides of his head. He blinked and shook his head furiously and the body was gone. Jumping away from his spot against the shelf Spike stumbled forward into the middle of the room. Not noticing the people backing away, giving him a wide berth. Head bent forward, hands clutching the hair and skin on the back of his skull. Trying to focus on the pain and not what was happening around him.
His mumblings mixed with the pain drowned out the sound of his name desperately being called.
His march was stopped when his nose picked up a strong scent of blood. Looking to his side, he saw a blurred form. He hadn't noticed the tears streaming down his face.
Blinking them away he jerked and stumbled back at the sight of Buffy's prone body on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood seeping from her neck and several gashes on her face. His eyes locked with hers. Glazed over, staring at him with a look of mixed hatred, anger, and most of all hurt.
His voice became louder.
"I didn't, I didn't, I didn't..."
He almost fell as his shaking nervous feet hit something soft. Whirling around his body froze. Dawns body, laying on the floor, her small frame sprawled. Her clothes ripped and bloodied. Cuts down her neck chest and stomach. Her neck bent. Her whole body limp and dead to the world without emotion.
Her eyes though sent him to his knees. He just stared, tear welling and overflowing. His body remembered. He remembered the sound of her whimpers as he cut her. The scent of her blood. The feeling as the resistance in her neck giving way as he twisted it in his hands. He remembered everything.
Spike could feel the emotion building until he finally threw his head back and screamed. Screamed until his vocal cords shredded. Screamed until he finally snapped and it died down into a wail, then to a whimper. His exhausted body finally gave out.
His shoulders slumped and his body simply sat. His head fell forward. Eyes glazed over. As he pulled himself within he could hear his own voice.
"I did"
Then nothing.
Spike couldn't even feel his body being shook violently as his name was yelled in his face.
***********
A smile crossed its face.
That was the loudest scream he had heard in all his 200 years with Malnaroo.
Further incentive for the slayer to do her job. Or I might ask him to try and get a louder one from their little witch.
He smiled to himself.
This should be fun...
AUTHORS NOTES:
THAT'S IT I'M FINISHED! Not with the story, just this chapter.
I must state that though the chapter is small, this was really hard. My usual chapter is spread out over two days with many breaks.
This was three hours strait with no brakes at all.
One hour figuring out how I was going to write this.
One hour writing it.
One hour deleting and correcting it.
I feel drained of all my creative brain juices.
I also notice that ma witing is stawting to wevert in a thwee yew owds. Mommy can I sweep now...
Before I pass out, I feel I can't thank my favorite authors enough. ESPECIALLY KITTYB90! As always she is the sweetest.
I didn't...
I didn't...
I didn't...
The first thing he noticed was that he was in a chair.
Muscles gripped instantly.
Shooting up ready to run back into the nothingness. He didn't care where he went, he did not want to be there. He couldn't see it again. He couldn't know what he did. The nothingness was sanctuary, no blood, no crying. But now he was back, and desperately trying to get away from what was about to play before him.
His eyes clamped shut, waiting for the sound of leather and whimpers. But heard nothing. He could feel the wall against his back. Spike knew he was in the room, but nothing happened.
Eyes reopening, wildly searching and finding the surroundings were different. It almost seemed familiar. A room, well lit, tables, chairs, bookshelves, artifacts, price tags, cashiers counter, and a round table.
His unnecessary breathing started to deepened no longer coming out in shallow pants.
This wasn't it. He wasn't there. Doing those things.
Spike's breathing stopped instantly. He could see them. The two people he loved and a man in the background. Looking at him. Eyes trained on him. Accusing without words.
Unconsciously his voice issued words over and over while he pushed way from there gazes, frantically trying to flee. Trying to melt through the wall and into the void he felt was behind it. He couldn't be there, knowing that what would happen next. As hard as he tried he couldn't push through. For a second Spike thought he was back in the chair. But his legs were strait. The wall wasn't giving way.
He heard a voice, trying badly to block it out he turned his head away, eyes shut, tears leaking out.
"Spike"
His eyes opening instantly.
This wasn't what happened.
He turning hesitantly, ready to whirl around if it was the same sight he saw play before him countless times. But the image stayed the same.
Seeing nothing was going to happen he took a moment.
His back was against bookshelves. They were there, but they were standing. Not tied to chairs. He wasn't behind them, just a man with glasses. Another man and two other ladies were there too. His body relaxed a bit. Hidden muscles unclenched. Relieving the burning sensation in them.
His eyes moved to the people behind the Buffy and Dawn. Spike felt the fog start to lift. His mind suddenly recognized them.
GILES! WILLOW! ANYA! XANDER!
He wasn't there anymore. Wasn't in the darkness. He was out.
Leaning his head back against a shelf his eyes closed and breathed in as his whole body relaxed. Spike heard Buffy's voice again. It wasn't filled with hate, just calm concern.
Lazily lifting his head he opened his eyes. There was her sweet face, the eyes that penetrated his soul, the roundness of her cheek, her neck curving down. A long slice that dripped stripes of blood.
His body shot into tension. Hands went to his eyes, tying to keep the sight away.
That wasn't real, you didn't kill them.
Body tense, he stood waiting for the sounds of the scene to play again. Nothing. No voices, shrieks or pleads. Silence. He felt something wet on his hands and face. Pulling them from his face, he found they were covered in blood. He could taste it as a drop slipped in the corner of his mouth.
Spike's whole body jumped at the sight of his hands, then began wiping chaotically at them, trying desperately to get it off. But no matter what they stayed wet and dripping.
Holding his hands down and away his eyes shut again, willing the image to leave. The feeling slowly dissipated and he felt a weight in his hands. Eyes opening, returning them to his hands he saw he was holding Dawns head. Neck bent at a odd angle. Eyes glazed over. Staring right at him.
Releasing instantly, hands shooting to the sides of his head. He blinked and shook his head furiously and the body was gone. Jumping away from his spot against the shelf Spike stumbled forward into the middle of the room. Not noticing the people backing away, giving him a wide berth. Head bent forward, hands clutching the hair and skin on the back of his skull. Trying to focus on the pain and not what was happening around him.
His mumblings mixed with the pain drowned out the sound of his name desperately being called.
His march was stopped when his nose picked up a strong scent of blood. Looking to his side, he saw a blurred form. He hadn't noticed the tears streaming down his face.
Blinking them away he jerked and stumbled back at the sight of Buffy's prone body on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood seeping from her neck and several gashes on her face. His eyes locked with hers. Glazed over, staring at him with a look of mixed hatred, anger, and most of all hurt.
His voice became louder.
"I didn't, I didn't, I didn't..."
He almost fell as his shaking nervous feet hit something soft. Whirling around his body froze. Dawns body, laying on the floor, her small frame sprawled. Her clothes ripped and bloodied. Cuts down her neck chest and stomach. Her neck bent. Her whole body limp and dead to the world without emotion.
Her eyes though sent him to his knees. He just stared, tear welling and overflowing. His body remembered. He remembered the sound of her whimpers as he cut her. The scent of her blood. The feeling as the resistance in her neck giving way as he twisted it in his hands. He remembered everything.
Spike could feel the emotion building until he finally threw his head back and screamed. Screamed until his vocal cords shredded. Screamed until he finally snapped and it died down into a wail, then to a whimper. His exhausted body finally gave out.
His shoulders slumped and his body simply sat. His head fell forward. Eyes glazed over. As he pulled himself within he could hear his own voice.
"I did"
Then nothing.
Spike couldn't even feel his body being shook violently as his name was yelled in his face.
***********
A smile crossed its face.
That was the loudest scream he had heard in all his 200 years with Malnaroo.
Further incentive for the slayer to do her job. Or I might ask him to try and get a louder one from their little witch.
He smiled to himself.
This should be fun...
AUTHORS NOTES:
THAT'S IT I'M FINISHED! Not with the story, just this chapter.
I must state that though the chapter is small, this was really hard. My usual chapter is spread out over two days with many breaks.
This was three hours strait with no brakes at all.
One hour figuring out how I was going to write this.
One hour writing it.
One hour deleting and correcting it.
I feel drained of all my creative brain juices.
I also notice that ma witing is stawting to wevert in a thwee yew owds. Mommy can I sweep now...
Before I pass out, I feel I can't thank my favorite authors enough. ESPECIALLY KITTYB90! As always she is the sweetest.