2427, approximately twenty-four hours later
Burrowed in a warm bed, I wake to an unfamiliar room cloaked in darkness. My muscles ache as my limbs begin to move, and a sharp pain issues from my side. I forgot about the broken rib. I stretch my senses to scan my environment, but I detect no one else with me. Where has Spike gone?
A sharp, impatient rap on the door reminds my mind why I woke in the first place. Someone is at the door, someone human.
My toes surround themselves in the embrace of the soft, thick carpet as I silently creep to the door and push the one-way vision button on the computer panel to my right. The door instantly becomes translucent, and I recognize Roger shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in the empty hall.
"Come in," I whisper as my vocal chords have somehow lost their ability to project.
The door disappears, and Roger nearly jumps ten feet in the air. "Oh!"
As my eyes adjust to the well-lit corridor, I blink rapidly up at the man before me. I note the lines on his brow and the frown on his face. He brushes past me into what I now recognize as one of the many hotel standards found all over the world. The door reappears solidly behind him.
I have never seen Roger so frantic that he's shaking. He leans on the small beverage bar to steady himself.
Gesturing to the jumble of unmade sheets and blankets, I suggest, "Why don't you sit down, Roger, and tell me what's got you so upset."
Roger doesn't appear to be hearing me. "Do you *know* what the Council. . . what *I've* had to do to deal with what you and Spike have done?"
I feel a momentary flash of guilt and fear as my memories of Spike killing Vanessa return full force. "Oh."
A glare mars his normally placid expression. "No? Well, let me tell you! The public and the free press are having a field day! Someone at the park spread the vid micro to all the computer stations and all the news broadcasts around the world. They've somehow connected the incident with the Council, and the international defense committee wants to meet with several Council members to discuss the new 'monstrous threat against earth.'"
I can't help myself. The hilarity of what Roger just said tickles my funny bone. The *new monstrous threat against earth*. . . what is that about? The ignorance the general public remained in about the presence of vampires and demons among us never ceases to surprise me. . . even after centuries. Laughter spills past my lips, and I gasp as barbs of pain shoot through my ribcage from the slowly mending rib.
"I don't think you understand the implications of what this means, Miss Summers."
I raise an eyebrow at him. Roger's called me by my first name since I first met him. The new formality means I need to take him seriously. "No, you obviously think I don't. Why don't you explain it to me."
"I will. Where's Spike?"
"Not here, obviously."
"Well, you need to find him. The Council has ordered you and him to be put to death."
"Why?" I am startled by his revelation. I expected some sort of consequence but not death.
"I know. I tried to stop it, but the Council was virtually unanimous. They want 'the menace stopped' before they meet with the international government. I suppose they're looking out for their own hides," Roger says frankly.
I nod. He makes sense. "And you're here because. . . ?"
He bows his head. "Because I care about you two. . . well, you. When the Council sent you on the mission after Vanessa, I didn't intend for this to happen." He raises his eyes at me. "I'm here to make sure you get to safety before the vampire hunt begins. I couldn't very well tell you this over communica lines without risking myself. I'm already taking a big risk by approaching you in person."
I touch his forearm gently to show that I appreciate his assistance. "How did you find me here?"
He grins ruefully. "Demon underground. I may never have been in the field extensively, but I do know a thing or two about demons."
"And how did you travel without being found out?"
Roger slings a bag off his shoulder onto the bed, unzipping the pack and revealing its contents. . . bits of computer parts and technology that I don't recognize. "I have my ways as Watcher."
"What's all this?"
"Identification for you and Spike. New identities." He hands me a computer micro. "And, a new place to live."
I am bewildered by his kindness. "W-where, h-how, w-why?" I stumble over my words, making me think briefly of Xander from long ago.
"Don't question. Just take," he encourages, forcing the machinery into my open palm. "I am honored to have worked with the famed Buffy Summers."
* * *
2427, three and a half hours later
I know where I to find Spike. The doors to the public memorial disappear before me as I stride purposefully into the facility that is open twenty-four hours per day. My stomach twirls with butterflies as I approach the human receptionist. Human staff are rare but occasionally still work in under- funded, usually public owned services. Memorial centers are definitely short of monetary supplements.
She offers me a brilliant but genuine smile. "Good day, Miss. . . Waters. May I help you?"
I resist the urge to sigh in relief. I give her Spike's codename, "Yes. I am looking for William Johnson."
The micro in her head runs smoothly for a few seconds as her eyes cloud over. When she refocuses, she nods. "He's in 457. Take the travel pad to the fourth floor and take a right once you're there."
"Thanks."
I hurry to the travel pad and am instantly on the fourth floor. Once there, I hesitate. I am not *afraid* to see Spike, but I must admit after our earlier interactions, I am more than a little nervous. I hadn't seen Spike for two years until yesterday. Thus far, I have been able to block the memories from a day ago. The events seem like they occurred one hundred years ago in my mind. As I bring them forth into my conscious thoughts, the memories are enhanced by the implant in my brain.
*"Slayer, you don't know whom you're dealing with here. I intend to make you my fourth." Golden eyes glint in the darkness.
Kicking, punching, whirling,. . . dancing.
Time stops.
The raw pain in Vanessa's expression stabs into my abdomen. A stake covers Spike's heart. "You can't fool me, Buffy Summers, childe of William the Bloody. I know you; I see you. And now you will feel as I do because I'm taking the last thing you have on this earth. . . as your grandmother did me."
A roar fills my head, and suddenly, I see, hear, feel, taste blood. . . Vanessa's blood.*
I am at door 457. If I were still alive, my heart would be pounding. Settling for bodily trembling, I press the button to signal my presence.
The door immediately disappears, and Spike stands before me. Grief paints his expression, and worry fills his eyes over tear-stained cheeks. With his temper gone and some time alone, his anger at me has dissipated. Now, he is worried that I will reject him as I have in the past. . . in days so faded that I have difficulty recalling them. I remind myself that those memories are more vivid for him than me because I succeeded in blocking them out as much as I could at the time.
I don't hesitate, and he lets out a small sob when I fold my arms around his lean frame. "Shhhhh," I whisper, letting my own tears fall. I stroke his back soothingly as he buries his head in my neck.
He holds me as close as possible and then, lifts me by my hips. I wrap my legs around him, and he moves to the armchair in the center of the room. The door reappears and seals behind us, and I briefly note that he has pulled up Dawn's memorial to view today.
Silently, he rocks us back and forth until we both feel calm and emotionally worn.
"I love you," I whisper first before he can say anything else.
His voice is soft against my eardrums, "Even after what I did to save us? Even after I forced you to drink her blood? You know I did that to help you heal more quickly. You'd lost a lot of blood."
I snuggle my head closer to his chest, "Yes, even after. And, yes, I know."
As I feel some of the tension melt out of his shoulders, he begins caressing my shoulder blade and my hip. "I love you, too."
The room is quiet.
Then, Spike murmurs, "My fangs were the only weapon I had left that I knew would defeat her. I know I acted rashly."
In the back of my mind, I remember why the Council wanted to leave Spike out of the hunt for Vanessa. . . his propensity for acting without thought. "I know. It's okay. I'm not angry with you. I'm not going anywhere." In the past, I might have turned my back on him without another word, but too much had passed between us in four centuries. A fresh wave of the deep aloneness I felt over the last two years encompasses me, and I squeeze him tightly.
"Why *did* you leave me?" he wonders, hurt filling his tone.
"The Council wanted me to leave you out of it," I suggest.
He pulls back sharply, searching my green eyes for the truth. I quiver at being under his gaze for the first time. "No, that's not it. Buffy Summers doesn't listen to what the Council says. She never has."
Defeated, I close my eyes. He always knows.
"Well?" he urgently presses. "Why did you leave me?"
"B-because I didn't want you to get hurt. Drusilla killed Vanessa's family." I peer at him cautiously when I mention his ex-lover's name. He doesn't even flinch. "Vanessa wanted revenge."
"I already know that Dru's dead," Spike acknowledges before I can tell him.
"I'm sorry."
He kisses my forehead. "Don't worry. I'm okay. She and I were a long time ago."
"But it still hurts," I insist, making him look at me this time.
"Yeah. It does."
I pause. "I was afraid you'd kill Vanessa out of grief. . . or that you would act rashly and get yourself killed. And if you died,. . . you're all I have left in this world."
With his thumbs, Spike wipes away the fresh tears that roll down my already damp cheeks. "I know." Firmly, he adds, "Don't do it again. I won't be apart from you that long."
I manage to present him a small smile. "Aye, commander. Trust me, I've learned my lesson. Me sleep not without you. . . literally. Hey, how *did* you find me?"
He winks. "The demon world, where else? You don't honestly think the Wanker's Council told me, do you?"
"How long did you stay working on the Hellmouth?" I want to know everything.
Looking sheepish, he mutters, "About six hours."
"*Six* hours?! Okay, I now know who doesn't listen to me."
"Hey, I did go to the bloody Council first. Course, they told me nothing. So, I started my own investigation. Took a bit to worm my way back into the demon underworld and gain enough trust to get the info I needed on you."
I lift both eyebrows at him. "And, what exactly did you have to do to gain their *trust* back?"
When he laughs, my heart sings. "Not much. Don't worry, I didn't do anything you or I wouldn't approve of." At my glare, he shrugs and continues, "Just knocked a few heads around. Killed a few demon pests for a few other demons who supposedly had the information but didn't. Well, when I found out their lie, they were dead, which in turn helped this local vamp who. . . "
Now I'm laughing. I push his chest with my palm. "Okay, okay. I get the picture. It was complicated, and you killed a few demons."
"A few?"
"A *lot* of demons," I amend.
"Ah, pet, I missed you." The familiar twinkle has returned to the blueness of his eyes.
"Say that again."
"Say what again, love?"
I kiss his cheeks and his eyelids. "Call me by my nicknames. I actually missed th. . ."
My words are cut off when his mouth melts into mine, and I am instantly lost in the oblivion of our love as he murmurs my pet names over and over against my skin. His hands rove over my body with fresh tenderness, and I touch him in all the places I've missed the most.
An immeasurable amount of time later, he moves away again much to my chagrin. "Pet, what's with the 'Cynthia Waters' name?"
At his reminder of the reality of our situation, I sigh reluctantly. He must have read my new name off the door panel before I entered. "That is a long story."
* * *
TBC . . . (now we're gonna change time periods again . . . into the future) Thanks for all the wonderful feedback! You guys are great! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!
Burrowed in a warm bed, I wake to an unfamiliar room cloaked in darkness. My muscles ache as my limbs begin to move, and a sharp pain issues from my side. I forgot about the broken rib. I stretch my senses to scan my environment, but I detect no one else with me. Where has Spike gone?
A sharp, impatient rap on the door reminds my mind why I woke in the first place. Someone is at the door, someone human.
My toes surround themselves in the embrace of the soft, thick carpet as I silently creep to the door and push the one-way vision button on the computer panel to my right. The door instantly becomes translucent, and I recognize Roger shifting awkwardly from foot to foot in the empty hall.
"Come in," I whisper as my vocal chords have somehow lost their ability to project.
The door disappears, and Roger nearly jumps ten feet in the air. "Oh!"
As my eyes adjust to the well-lit corridor, I blink rapidly up at the man before me. I note the lines on his brow and the frown on his face. He brushes past me into what I now recognize as one of the many hotel standards found all over the world. The door reappears solidly behind him.
I have never seen Roger so frantic that he's shaking. He leans on the small beverage bar to steady himself.
Gesturing to the jumble of unmade sheets and blankets, I suggest, "Why don't you sit down, Roger, and tell me what's got you so upset."
Roger doesn't appear to be hearing me. "Do you *know* what the Council. . . what *I've* had to do to deal with what you and Spike have done?"
I feel a momentary flash of guilt and fear as my memories of Spike killing Vanessa return full force. "Oh."
A glare mars his normally placid expression. "No? Well, let me tell you! The public and the free press are having a field day! Someone at the park spread the vid micro to all the computer stations and all the news broadcasts around the world. They've somehow connected the incident with the Council, and the international defense committee wants to meet with several Council members to discuss the new 'monstrous threat against earth.'"
I can't help myself. The hilarity of what Roger just said tickles my funny bone. The *new monstrous threat against earth*. . . what is that about? The ignorance the general public remained in about the presence of vampires and demons among us never ceases to surprise me. . . even after centuries. Laughter spills past my lips, and I gasp as barbs of pain shoot through my ribcage from the slowly mending rib.
"I don't think you understand the implications of what this means, Miss Summers."
I raise an eyebrow at him. Roger's called me by my first name since I first met him. The new formality means I need to take him seriously. "No, you obviously think I don't. Why don't you explain it to me."
"I will. Where's Spike?"
"Not here, obviously."
"Well, you need to find him. The Council has ordered you and him to be put to death."
"Why?" I am startled by his revelation. I expected some sort of consequence but not death.
"I know. I tried to stop it, but the Council was virtually unanimous. They want 'the menace stopped' before they meet with the international government. I suppose they're looking out for their own hides," Roger says frankly.
I nod. He makes sense. "And you're here because. . . ?"
He bows his head. "Because I care about you two. . . well, you. When the Council sent you on the mission after Vanessa, I didn't intend for this to happen." He raises his eyes at me. "I'm here to make sure you get to safety before the vampire hunt begins. I couldn't very well tell you this over communica lines without risking myself. I'm already taking a big risk by approaching you in person."
I touch his forearm gently to show that I appreciate his assistance. "How did you find me here?"
He grins ruefully. "Demon underground. I may never have been in the field extensively, but I do know a thing or two about demons."
"And how did you travel without being found out?"
Roger slings a bag off his shoulder onto the bed, unzipping the pack and revealing its contents. . . bits of computer parts and technology that I don't recognize. "I have my ways as Watcher."
"What's all this?"
"Identification for you and Spike. New identities." He hands me a computer micro. "And, a new place to live."
I am bewildered by his kindness. "W-where, h-how, w-why?" I stumble over my words, making me think briefly of Xander from long ago.
"Don't question. Just take," he encourages, forcing the machinery into my open palm. "I am honored to have worked with the famed Buffy Summers."
* * *
2427, three and a half hours later
I know where I to find Spike. The doors to the public memorial disappear before me as I stride purposefully into the facility that is open twenty-four hours per day. My stomach twirls with butterflies as I approach the human receptionist. Human staff are rare but occasionally still work in under- funded, usually public owned services. Memorial centers are definitely short of monetary supplements.
She offers me a brilliant but genuine smile. "Good day, Miss. . . Waters. May I help you?"
I resist the urge to sigh in relief. I give her Spike's codename, "Yes. I am looking for William Johnson."
The micro in her head runs smoothly for a few seconds as her eyes cloud over. When she refocuses, she nods. "He's in 457. Take the travel pad to the fourth floor and take a right once you're there."
"Thanks."
I hurry to the travel pad and am instantly on the fourth floor. Once there, I hesitate. I am not *afraid* to see Spike, but I must admit after our earlier interactions, I am more than a little nervous. I hadn't seen Spike for two years until yesterday. Thus far, I have been able to block the memories from a day ago. The events seem like they occurred one hundred years ago in my mind. As I bring them forth into my conscious thoughts, the memories are enhanced by the implant in my brain.
*"Slayer, you don't know whom you're dealing with here. I intend to make you my fourth." Golden eyes glint in the darkness.
Kicking, punching, whirling,. . . dancing.
Time stops.
The raw pain in Vanessa's expression stabs into my abdomen. A stake covers Spike's heart. "You can't fool me, Buffy Summers, childe of William the Bloody. I know you; I see you. And now you will feel as I do because I'm taking the last thing you have on this earth. . . as your grandmother did me."
A roar fills my head, and suddenly, I see, hear, feel, taste blood. . . Vanessa's blood.*
I am at door 457. If I were still alive, my heart would be pounding. Settling for bodily trembling, I press the button to signal my presence.
The door immediately disappears, and Spike stands before me. Grief paints his expression, and worry fills his eyes over tear-stained cheeks. With his temper gone and some time alone, his anger at me has dissipated. Now, he is worried that I will reject him as I have in the past. . . in days so faded that I have difficulty recalling them. I remind myself that those memories are more vivid for him than me because I succeeded in blocking them out as much as I could at the time.
I don't hesitate, and he lets out a small sob when I fold my arms around his lean frame. "Shhhhh," I whisper, letting my own tears fall. I stroke his back soothingly as he buries his head in my neck.
He holds me as close as possible and then, lifts me by my hips. I wrap my legs around him, and he moves to the armchair in the center of the room. The door reappears and seals behind us, and I briefly note that he has pulled up Dawn's memorial to view today.
Silently, he rocks us back and forth until we both feel calm and emotionally worn.
"I love you," I whisper first before he can say anything else.
His voice is soft against my eardrums, "Even after what I did to save us? Even after I forced you to drink her blood? You know I did that to help you heal more quickly. You'd lost a lot of blood."
I snuggle my head closer to his chest, "Yes, even after. And, yes, I know."
As I feel some of the tension melt out of his shoulders, he begins caressing my shoulder blade and my hip. "I love you, too."
The room is quiet.
Then, Spike murmurs, "My fangs were the only weapon I had left that I knew would defeat her. I know I acted rashly."
In the back of my mind, I remember why the Council wanted to leave Spike out of the hunt for Vanessa. . . his propensity for acting without thought. "I know. It's okay. I'm not angry with you. I'm not going anywhere." In the past, I might have turned my back on him without another word, but too much had passed between us in four centuries. A fresh wave of the deep aloneness I felt over the last two years encompasses me, and I squeeze him tightly.
"Why *did* you leave me?" he wonders, hurt filling his tone.
"The Council wanted me to leave you out of it," I suggest.
He pulls back sharply, searching my green eyes for the truth. I quiver at being under his gaze for the first time. "No, that's not it. Buffy Summers doesn't listen to what the Council says. She never has."
Defeated, I close my eyes. He always knows.
"Well?" he urgently presses. "Why did you leave me?"
"B-because I didn't want you to get hurt. Drusilla killed Vanessa's family." I peer at him cautiously when I mention his ex-lover's name. He doesn't even flinch. "Vanessa wanted revenge."
"I already know that Dru's dead," Spike acknowledges before I can tell him.
"I'm sorry."
He kisses my forehead. "Don't worry. I'm okay. She and I were a long time ago."
"But it still hurts," I insist, making him look at me this time.
"Yeah. It does."
I pause. "I was afraid you'd kill Vanessa out of grief. . . or that you would act rashly and get yourself killed. And if you died,. . . you're all I have left in this world."
With his thumbs, Spike wipes away the fresh tears that roll down my already damp cheeks. "I know." Firmly, he adds, "Don't do it again. I won't be apart from you that long."
I manage to present him a small smile. "Aye, commander. Trust me, I've learned my lesson. Me sleep not without you. . . literally. Hey, how *did* you find me?"
He winks. "The demon world, where else? You don't honestly think the Wanker's Council told me, do you?"
"How long did you stay working on the Hellmouth?" I want to know everything.
Looking sheepish, he mutters, "About six hours."
"*Six* hours?! Okay, I now know who doesn't listen to me."
"Hey, I did go to the bloody Council first. Course, they told me nothing. So, I started my own investigation. Took a bit to worm my way back into the demon underworld and gain enough trust to get the info I needed on you."
I lift both eyebrows at him. "And, what exactly did you have to do to gain their *trust* back?"
When he laughs, my heart sings. "Not much. Don't worry, I didn't do anything you or I wouldn't approve of." At my glare, he shrugs and continues, "Just knocked a few heads around. Killed a few demon pests for a few other demons who supposedly had the information but didn't. Well, when I found out their lie, they were dead, which in turn helped this local vamp who. . . "
Now I'm laughing. I push his chest with my palm. "Okay, okay. I get the picture. It was complicated, and you killed a few demons."
"A few?"
"A *lot* of demons," I amend.
"Ah, pet, I missed you." The familiar twinkle has returned to the blueness of his eyes.
"Say that again."
"Say what again, love?"
I kiss his cheeks and his eyelids. "Call me by my nicknames. I actually missed th. . ."
My words are cut off when his mouth melts into mine, and I am instantly lost in the oblivion of our love as he murmurs my pet names over and over against my skin. His hands rove over my body with fresh tenderness, and I touch him in all the places I've missed the most.
An immeasurable amount of time later, he moves away again much to my chagrin. "Pet, what's with the 'Cynthia Waters' name?"
At his reminder of the reality of our situation, I sigh reluctantly. He must have read my new name off the door panel before I entered. "That is a long story."
* * *
TBC . . . (now we're gonna change time periods again . . . into the future) Thanks for all the wonderful feedback! You guys are great! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!