DARKEST 6
By Annie
Rated: PG Summary: Things are not well with the reunited couple. Disclaimer: Not mine own. Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
DARKEST 6
I had failed. And miserably, at best.
I sent Anya and Xander back to his place as fast as they could go, hoping Spike would be in too confused a state of mind to think of going there, endangering Dawn and Willow. Vamps always arose hungry, and nothing in William the Bloody's past led me to believe he would refrain from feeding at the first possible opportunity. I had to track him down.
It was my fault - my selfish, dark fault.
I urged them to hurry, trying not to see the 'I told you so' in Xander's eyes and the pity in Anya's.
As soon as they left, I started to search the cemetery, all the while running the spell through my head over and over. I hadn't missed anything. I did everything right. Now it felt so wrong.
I found myself right at the place I had started this debacle from; the spot where it had all happened. Something to be said about coming full circle. Somehow, without even consciously thinking about it, I was on my hands and knees, crawling through the wet grass and soft dirt, looking, incredibly, for the chip.
It was only twenty-four hours ago, I was telling myself. I don't even know where the thought had come from. Desperation, I would think. Find the chip, somehow. Get it put back into Spike, somehow. Except, number one, he would never allow it, and number two, there wasn't anyone to do it. Plus, I couldn't find the damn thing.
It had to be here. Why would it turn to dust just because Spike did? I hadn't been looking for it last night, it hadn't even crossed my mind, but now I was thinking. The chip would have simply fallen to the ground when he turned to dust. It will be laying around here somewhere, tiny little salvation hidden in the grass among the tombstones. My salvation if I could manage to find it. And manage to subdue Spike. And track Riley down to see if he knew anyone who could perform the procedure.
I laughed out loud at that. Like Riley would help me with Spike.
I found it. Amazingly, I found it. I was running my fingers through the grass frantically, and suddenly realized I had just felt something hard and cold under my brushing fingers. I stopped dead, and backtracked my left hand slowly. And there it was.
Tiny little piece of titanium, or whatever they were using to construct mind-control chips out of these days. Very small, like a fly or something, and no hint of where it had come from. Another day or two, and it would have likely been crushed unnoticed beneath some grief-stricken funeral attendee's shoe.
All I had to do now was find Spike. It was apparent that he wasn't in the cemetery, and I even went back to check his crypt, thinking he might have gone there after the three of us left. He must be cruising the town, and the thought sickened me, the awful, stomach-turning feeling of knowing I had done this. My hand tightened on the polished, pointed wood.
No more for me. After this, no more relationships, no lovers. No one. Maybe that's why the Slayer was always alone. Maybe it was part of the requirement for being the Chosen One. Nice that they had added a clause like that to the contract and not told anyone. Well, except by action anyway. I know all my lovers were null and void.
I headed back to the apartment slowly, checking all the normal vamp haunts on the way. Nothing. When I got to Xander's I was greeted by the sight of a weeping Dawn, crying in Willow's arms on the couch.
"I'm sorry, Dawn. I tried." I said in an attempt to make either her or myself feel better. I wasn't sure. I didn't think I could feel much worse. "Look," I told them. "I found the chip."
Xander snorted. "Yea, Buff, I'm sure Spike will come looking for that. After he gets all sick and tired of being the Big Bad again!"
"Xander!" Willow reprimanded, but I held up a hand to her.
"Xander's right, Will. I shouldn't have done it. I just can't figure out what went wrong. I have to call Wesley."
Wes, of course, was pretty much unappreciative at being dragged from bed to answer the phone. He did manage to perk up when I told him what had happened.
"That's very strange," he mused in that funny-sounding raspiness he had acquired sometime since he left Sunnydale. I wanted to ask him about it, but thought it might not be a good idea. Also, I didn't care very much.
"Yes, it is strange," I repeated, a bit accusingly, I think. "I did everything you said in your e-mail. I had all the stuff; the five vamps, the star on the floor, all the words were spoken correctly."
"The oil mixed with the blood, and on and on, I know the drill, Buffy." He interrupted me.
My own blood went cold just then. "The what mixed with the what?"
Silence at the other end of the phone line. Then; "You did the anointing the crate with the oil thing, right? Mixed with the blood of the living?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Wesley? You never said anything about any oil or any blood!"
The others were looking at me with slowly dawning understanding on their faces.
"I certainly did," Wesley defended himself. "I would never have sent you an incomplete or misleading spell. It should have been the first thing on page 3, 'anoint the crate with pure oil and the blood of the living.."
Now I interrupted him, pulling the sheets of paper from my back pocket and looking at then incredulously. "There is no page 3! Two pages, Wesley! Page 1.Page 2. That's it!"
He sighed audibly. "Well, what I sent to you would need three pages to print. Obviously there is something wrong with your printer, maybe ran out of paper or something. If you had done the spell correctly, Spike would have returned as a human. A mightily confused one, but a human nonetheless. Guess it's a good thing he has that chip in his head..he does still have the chip in his head?"
"Totally chipless. Totally not human," I told him wearily. I couldn't even begin to tell him how much Spike would have hated coming back as a human. After being Spike for 120-odd years? "Bye, Wesley, and thanks for all your help. I'll take care of things here."
I hung up. "I am the Slayer, after all." I said to no one in particular.
Anya was practically shaking with the need to keep the blame from herself. "It's that cheap printer Giles bought. I know it! I told him not to skimp on the office accessories."
"Forget it, Anya." I mumbled. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a coffee mug from the cupboard, placing the chip in it and bringing it in to Dawn.
"Don't let anything happen to this," I admonished her. Little bits of Spike, last night and again tonight, all kept safely tucked away in kitchenware.
I went to the small wooden cabinet where I knew Xander kept spare stakes, taking two of them out to arm myself. "The sun will be up soon," I observed. "I think I might know where Spike is. I'll either be back, or I won't."
To be continued
By Annie
Rated: PG Summary: Things are not well with the reunited couple. Disclaimer: Not mine own. Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net
DARKEST 6
I had failed. And miserably, at best.
I sent Anya and Xander back to his place as fast as they could go, hoping Spike would be in too confused a state of mind to think of going there, endangering Dawn and Willow. Vamps always arose hungry, and nothing in William the Bloody's past led me to believe he would refrain from feeding at the first possible opportunity. I had to track him down.
It was my fault - my selfish, dark fault.
I urged them to hurry, trying not to see the 'I told you so' in Xander's eyes and the pity in Anya's.
As soon as they left, I started to search the cemetery, all the while running the spell through my head over and over. I hadn't missed anything. I did everything right. Now it felt so wrong.
I found myself right at the place I had started this debacle from; the spot where it had all happened. Something to be said about coming full circle. Somehow, without even consciously thinking about it, I was on my hands and knees, crawling through the wet grass and soft dirt, looking, incredibly, for the chip.
It was only twenty-four hours ago, I was telling myself. I don't even know where the thought had come from. Desperation, I would think. Find the chip, somehow. Get it put back into Spike, somehow. Except, number one, he would never allow it, and number two, there wasn't anyone to do it. Plus, I couldn't find the damn thing.
It had to be here. Why would it turn to dust just because Spike did? I hadn't been looking for it last night, it hadn't even crossed my mind, but now I was thinking. The chip would have simply fallen to the ground when he turned to dust. It will be laying around here somewhere, tiny little salvation hidden in the grass among the tombstones. My salvation if I could manage to find it. And manage to subdue Spike. And track Riley down to see if he knew anyone who could perform the procedure.
I laughed out loud at that. Like Riley would help me with Spike.
I found it. Amazingly, I found it. I was running my fingers through the grass frantically, and suddenly realized I had just felt something hard and cold under my brushing fingers. I stopped dead, and backtracked my left hand slowly. And there it was.
Tiny little piece of titanium, or whatever they were using to construct mind-control chips out of these days. Very small, like a fly or something, and no hint of where it had come from. Another day or two, and it would have likely been crushed unnoticed beneath some grief-stricken funeral attendee's shoe.
All I had to do now was find Spike. It was apparent that he wasn't in the cemetery, and I even went back to check his crypt, thinking he might have gone there after the three of us left. He must be cruising the town, and the thought sickened me, the awful, stomach-turning feeling of knowing I had done this. My hand tightened on the polished, pointed wood.
No more for me. After this, no more relationships, no lovers. No one. Maybe that's why the Slayer was always alone. Maybe it was part of the requirement for being the Chosen One. Nice that they had added a clause like that to the contract and not told anyone. Well, except by action anyway. I know all my lovers were null and void.
I headed back to the apartment slowly, checking all the normal vamp haunts on the way. Nothing. When I got to Xander's I was greeted by the sight of a weeping Dawn, crying in Willow's arms on the couch.
"I'm sorry, Dawn. I tried." I said in an attempt to make either her or myself feel better. I wasn't sure. I didn't think I could feel much worse. "Look," I told them. "I found the chip."
Xander snorted. "Yea, Buff, I'm sure Spike will come looking for that. After he gets all sick and tired of being the Big Bad again!"
"Xander!" Willow reprimanded, but I held up a hand to her.
"Xander's right, Will. I shouldn't have done it. I just can't figure out what went wrong. I have to call Wesley."
Wes, of course, was pretty much unappreciative at being dragged from bed to answer the phone. He did manage to perk up when I told him what had happened.
"That's very strange," he mused in that funny-sounding raspiness he had acquired sometime since he left Sunnydale. I wanted to ask him about it, but thought it might not be a good idea. Also, I didn't care very much.
"Yes, it is strange," I repeated, a bit accusingly, I think. "I did everything you said in your e-mail. I had all the stuff; the five vamps, the star on the floor, all the words were spoken correctly."
"The oil mixed with the blood, and on and on, I know the drill, Buffy." He interrupted me.
My own blood went cold just then. "The what mixed with the what?"
Silence at the other end of the phone line. Then; "You did the anointing the crate with the oil thing, right? Mixed with the blood of the living?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Wesley? You never said anything about any oil or any blood!"
The others were looking at me with slowly dawning understanding on their faces.
"I certainly did," Wesley defended himself. "I would never have sent you an incomplete or misleading spell. It should have been the first thing on page 3, 'anoint the crate with pure oil and the blood of the living.."
Now I interrupted him, pulling the sheets of paper from my back pocket and looking at then incredulously. "There is no page 3! Two pages, Wesley! Page 1.Page 2. That's it!"
He sighed audibly. "Well, what I sent to you would need three pages to print. Obviously there is something wrong with your printer, maybe ran out of paper or something. If you had done the spell correctly, Spike would have returned as a human. A mightily confused one, but a human nonetheless. Guess it's a good thing he has that chip in his head..he does still have the chip in his head?"
"Totally chipless. Totally not human," I told him wearily. I couldn't even begin to tell him how much Spike would have hated coming back as a human. After being Spike for 120-odd years? "Bye, Wesley, and thanks for all your help. I'll take care of things here."
I hung up. "I am the Slayer, after all." I said to no one in particular.
Anya was practically shaking with the need to keep the blame from herself. "It's that cheap printer Giles bought. I know it! I told him not to skimp on the office accessories."
"Forget it, Anya." I mumbled. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a coffee mug from the cupboard, placing the chip in it and bringing it in to Dawn.
"Don't let anything happen to this," I admonished her. Little bits of Spike, last night and again tonight, all kept safely tucked away in kitchenware.
I went to the small wooden cabinet where I knew Xander kept spare stakes, taking two of them out to arm myself. "The sun will be up soon," I observed. "I think I might know where Spike is. I'll either be back, or I won't."
To be continued