New Horizons: Chapter Fifty-Four
The Continuance
By Annie
06-12-2002
The door to the Magic Box opened and closed, the small bell jingling in announcement, but nobody seemed to take any notice. Seeing the vampire cry with such unmasked grief was something that seemed to place a hush over the assembled people.
Dawn stared at her sister, who was whispering something and gently stroking her hand across his back, holding him close to her. Then she looked at the shaking shoulders of the being she had always considered more or less unbreakable. Not even Buffy's torturing hate and resentment had made him break like this. Dawn was quite shaken by it and so was Giles.
He took off his glasses and polished them, trying to gather his thoughts, he blinked a little putting them back on and then he frowned slightly at the scene of such open vulnerability. It was quite extraordinary and he couldn't help but feel like the vampire truly was taking steps towards redemption, at least in the Watcher's eyes.
Anya looked around at all of them, starting to wring her hands slightly and not at all sure what to do. Should she say something? Wasn't the right thing to do in these kinds of situations to say something? When someone was in pain wasn't it the humane thing to do to try and ease it? (She disregarded the fact that she was back in her demon form.) The others seemed reluctant to speak though, she concluded, and then Xander's voice suddenly cut through the silence in which Spike's sobs had reigned.
"What happened? He vamp out and bite his tongue?" he asked and Anya turned two growing eyes to her man as he jumped down the steps and came to stand beside her.
Giles and Dawn looked up as well, both slightly shocked and disapproving in their expressions and Xander raised his shoulders.
"What?" he asked.
"Sch," Anya said, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer she continued: "The whole prophecy thing is out on the table and they're gonna have a child."
"Who are?" Xander asked and Anya raised her eyebrows.
"Buffy and Spike," she answered as though that should be perfectly obvious and now Xander's eyes widened.
"A CHILD?" he burst out and this made Buffy and Spike both jerk away slightly from each other to turn and look at him.
Spike's face was completely drenched in tears and he was sniffling as he got to his feet, running a hand across the streaks on his cheeks to dry them off though new tears already were rising. Buffy got to her feet as well and Xander stared at them.
"A girl," Spike confirmed, voice so hoarse it almost didn't come out audible, but Xander picked it up all right and he stared at him and then at the Slayer.
"A girl?" Xander asked and Buffy smiled tentatively before nodding. "I.can't believe it," he mumbled, a bewildered expression spreading on his face.
"Me neither," she said, her voice thin and she cleared her throat.
Spike looked at Xander and then around at them all before stopping at Buffy.
"I shouldn't be the father," he growled and her eyes filled with an expression of pain for him, for what she knew he was thinking as she reached for his hand.
He pulled away, taking a step back and shaking his head.
"I thought: what a gift, what an incredible gift to be bloody handed like this. But Buffy.how the hell can I accept it? What kind of a father would I be, would I make?"
Tears were welling up again as he met her gaze, her eyes growing glazy as well as she shook her head that he was wrong, but he turned around and ran from her; through the door to the Magic Box, fleeing into the night.
Buffy turned to Giles who was clenching his jaws together tightly, only nodding at her look and then she turned and ran after Spike.
The silence settled over the four in the shop after the door closed behind her back, the soft jingle of the bell once more heard and the small echo of it soon dying away, smothered by the stillness.
Dawn's heart was beating hard in her chest. The absolute sorrow in Spike's eyes.she had never seen anything like it. He hadn't even looked like it grieving Buffy last year, and then she had seen him more frail at times than she ever could have expected from him, even though he quickly got rid of the appearance as soon as he sensed her approaching.
He always did that, tried to protect her, and last summer she knew he had wanted to support her, not pull her down further with the burden of his own broken heart.
She wished she could be of support to him now, but that was Buffy's role, she supposed, and so she would just have to do the best she could and let him know how wrong she thought he was, the next time she saw him.
Xander turned his eyes to Anya, who smiled a little, reaching out a hand.
"Are you okay?" she asked and he opened his mouth to answer, but no sound seemed to want to come out.
"Quite.quite extraordinary," Giles mumbled to himself, looking thoughtful as he turned and climbed up the small stairs to the second floor of the shop, walking in among the rows of books to have a moment to himself.
"I just.don't understand how," Xander now grumbled and Anya squeezed his hand a little.
"Well, you see, something happened in England that had something to do with bright light and Buffy and Spike having sex.in it.but only for a moment which was really an hour, and Buffy lent Spike her soul which made him live and so all his manly goods worked and they could make a baby," Anya said and Xander frowned slightly at that.
"Honey, as always I have almost no idea what the heck you're talking about," he stated gently and then smiled a little. "But thanks for trying."
She sighed slightly, turning around as Giles came back down she said:
"I don't get it. If Buffy's soul was inside Spike when they had sex in that.whatever, then SHE was.I don't know, dead, right? And it still worked?"
Giles looked up at her distractedly and then he seemed to focus, shaking his head he answered:
"No, Buffy was only without her soul for the short time when it went into Spike.then it returned to her for the actual.hmh, has anyone seen a notebook? I'm sure I left it here somewhere."
"I didn't take it," Dawn said, finally snapping out of her thoughts and getting off the chair. "I don't do that anymore," she added and Giles smiled a little.
"No, of course, it was merely a qu-."
"Here it is," Anya said, turning around and grabbing it off the counter. "It's heavy.what is it?"
"Oh, just my notes." he mumbled, taking it with a nod and walking back up to the second floor.
"This is all very confusing." Xander mumbled, mostly to himself, but Dawn retorted cheerfully:
"And what? You thought the creation of life would be a piece of cake?"
***
He was blinded by tears, but ran anyway. He wanted to outrun the rawness, the nude pain that was overpowering him. He wanted to outrun the black and white memories of a lifetime painted crimson red. And if he found out that he couldn't run from it, then he would fall to his knees from trying, and he would breathe even though he didn't need to, and he would cry even though he shouldn't, and he would tear his chest open just to claw out this feeling of absolute sadness.
Every last part of him was drenched in the gray matter of that sadness and grief it carried with it and it was even more excruciating in the knowledge that he was the only one who could shoulder it: the blame.
So many lives, too many lives, staining his body, his mind, his heart and in that they stained this love inside of him that had made him see light when there was none, that had made him strong when he should have been weak, that had made him feel life in the midst of death. that had built something where he always had been apt to tear everything down.
It was staining her; staining Buffy.
He screamed at that. The sound rose out of his lungs with such force that the rocks close to his feet shattered into a thousand pieces and the wave of his voice went crashing into the branches of the trees, ruffling them as though it was a heavy wind.
He stopped then, his chest heaving and he wanted to cut it off, stop breathing, but he couldn't.
"Oh, God," he whispered, putting his hands to his face and shaking his head to himself. "So cruel.so bloody cruel."
A thousand faces crammed his mind just to make way for a thousand others.
"How many?" he whispered now as he sunk down on his knees, bending forward with his hands still plastered over his eyes as though they were the screen of this macabre show his memory was putting on for him and he was as unable to remove them as he was his thoughts from his head. "How many did I kill? How many have I killed? Murdered? I'm a murderer.a creature.soulless and evil.just like she always told me. This love.is nothing, it can't mean anything."
And he bent forward, resting his forehead on the moist grass and he knew that he was close to where he belonged: his crypt, his grave; he was at his cemetery - his home.
Faces of children, oh God, the children, and women and men of all ages and how he had laughed at them, at their vulnerability at not even knowing what he was. How he had enchanted them, how he had made the women follow him with just one glance, one smile, made them fall into his arms with one brief touch, how he had played his games with the men, learning ever so from his grandsire and from Drusilla's twisted needs and cravings.
He had indulged in death and despair, in destruction and devouring of the innocent, of the feeble little mortals that looked at him in wonder and enthrallment and with an irresistible sense of sensuality, his lips on their hot skin and then his fangs, sinking into their beautiful flesh and drawing the life out of them.
The ironic part was that so many of his victims had succumb to him more than easily, had brought a hand up and put it behind his neck, pressing gently as though bidding his mouth to close tighter, drink harder.
But that had all been in the early days.when William wouldn't leave the demon alone, when he romanticized it all to be able to deal with it because he still heard a faint whisper lingering from the conscience he would soon loose.
And when that conscience could do nothing but leave - escape out of the mind so blackened with the passion of the taking of life - he had killed, he had slaughtered with no remorse, he had journeyed on a mad trip with the Scourge and he had enjoyed it so thoroughly that he had believed it would never end. When it did he had gone on with Drusilla by his side, his beloved little fragile doll.and then he had come to Sunnydale for the third notch in his Slayer belt. And slowly but surely everything had come to a halt.
Nothing was as sweet as before. Not the power, not the killing, not the hunt.the blood lost its taste and he had refused to admit it. But yes, every time he had fed it had been her he had seen and it had made him sick. And even angrier with her, with what she was turning him into.
She had changed him, but it was all for nothing.
"A daughter." he mumbled, his tears slipping down his nose and hitting the clear, green grass beneath it.
How could it be, this gift, if not for it to be taken from him? For her to be slaughtered in the same way he had slaughtered, for him to suffer the same loss which he had bestowed upon so many? And Buffy, his sweet, wonderful, strong Slayer: his love.she wouldn't be able to look at him anymore. How she could stand to be close to him was starting to be a mystery to him.
And then, suddenly, warm fingers sliding over his back, grabbing his face gently, pulling him up and into a hard embrace by arms he knew almost better than his own he sometimes thought; and her scent was there, embedding him in the calmness of her thumping heart, in the softness of her deep breaths. He realized she must have been running fast in order to catch up with him so soon.
Not until now did he slowly move his hands away from his eyes and five of her fingers were in his hair, carefully pushing his face to her shoulder and he buried it there, feeling like he could have rested it there forever and ever.
And then he realized that she was shaking, that she was crying as well and he pulled away from her with a hard tug, dropping himself backwards and crawling a little away from her as he stared into her widening eyes, big tears sure enough making rough paths down her smooth cheeks.
He had put them there, and then an even more horrid realization hit him.
"I kicked you." he whispered and her eyes grew a little more in question. "I kicked you in the stomach," he elaborated and she looked at him with such a sudden serene expression that he swallowed hard. "Well?" he then asked and she shook her head slowly.
"I'm fine," she answered him and now his eyes grew as he reached up a hand to brush at the tears.
"I know," he stated, sniffling like another idiot, but not able not to as he pulled up and sat to face her. "I wouldn't have kicked you if I hadn't bloody well known that you'd be all right, now would I?" he added and she smiled a little.
"No," she said and he nodded, satisfied with her knowing that. "She is fine too," she then added and he looked up sharply, fresh tears filling his eyes, but he didn't seem to really take notice. "It's strange. I knew something was different, and now that I know WHAT. It's like I can feel her. It's incredible."
He stared at her in sudden, growing awe and wonder as she gently placed one hand on her stomach.
"I know she's tiny, she's tinier than that even.but I can feel her, Spike," she said again and looked up, into his blue eyes that were now so filled with love that a new glimmer of tears stroked her eyes and she smiled again.
Then the love was mixed with that absolutely horrifying sorrow that she had seen before and he looked away, shaking his head and clenching his jaws tightly together as he began speaking in a low voice.
"The first time I hunted and killed by my own accord, alone in the dark with nothing and no one to watch me was one of the most powerful and altering moments of my existence. I knew then, instinctively, that I wasn't just gonna be another little meek vamp stalking the streets with no name and no real.purpose." He huffed a little, looking up at her again. "I was meant for something bigger than that. I felt invincible when my prey slowly died in my arms, his life force giving me my re-birth. Just like I would be reborn a thousand times over. And I knew that I was going to be known to every vampire that walked the Earth, that my name was going to put fear into those who." he shook his head a little and smiled bitterly, "sought to destroy me and those I thought of as allies. Bloody hell," he grumbled, getting to his feet and turning from her.
She rose as well.
"I was dark, and I loved it. Being bad suited me a hell of a lot better than that poking around in books and scribbling sweet nothings on blank little pieces of paper EVER did. I was evil to the core and I treasured the feeling of taking anything I wanted at any time and not caring about any consequences. Not HAVING to care." He turned to her now, and she met his gaze firmly, he knew she was listening closely and he knew that he was signing the death warrant of her love for him, but he couldn't stop now, couldn't stop this truth. "The people I killed were to me what stock is to you, cows and horses are ground to neat little meat packages, well, that was how I saw humans. A pathetic little race that didn't know what they had walking around with them.the very key to immortality was right under their noses and they were jabbering on with their measly little theories and attempts at 'inventing' it, at cooking up the recipe from scratch. Unbelievable to even bloody well think it. To me they were blood banks, nothing more than that. They were amusing sometimes, one way or another, but not pleasurable, not satisfying me in any way other than through the feeding, the overcoming of their spirit, the taking of them."
He paused suddenly, thoughtful.
Buffy smiled a little as she understood even before he did why he had stopped himself, why he now was looking quite questioning as to what he was missing.
"That's right," she now spoke and he looked up, into her eyes as she approached him to stop before him. "You did all of that, that was what you were. All that pain and death and hatred, all that raw beauty of a time that you KNOW is gone now."
She suddenly reached up a hand and placed it over his heart, he could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of his T and it reached through his skin, cut through his flesh and crawled relentlessly around his heart, surrounding it with its intoxicating and vibrant life-force and he stared at her as she looked up at him.
"It's over. It's finished. That part of your existence is done with, and you know that, I know you do. You have done more good than I even thought possible, Spike. Look at yourself, and who you are now. You're not that vampire anymore, you're my friend, my lover, my confidant and I do love you; the Slayer who was supposed to be number three and ended up changing you loves you. And let me tell you something more," she said, making him meet her gaze again as he was about to look away. "You changed ME, for the better. I don't want you doubting that it was all for the better. The reason you're here is larger than anything you've done before.nothing of it matters now, can't you see that?"
He closed his eyes and saw faces and faces and faces and he stepped away from her again, shaking his head in pure agony, the need to listen to her not overcoming the titanic guilt inside his chest, the colossal regret over actions that had kept him alive.
Even so, they had been unrealistically cruel and he had taunted his victims, tortured them, made them suffer for nothing; a brief moment of joy for the cursed demon inside him as they wretched underneath the railroad spike; and then the small hint of relief from the William in him as the human mercifully died.
No, she wasn't being truthful to herself or him.
All of it mattered. All of it had always mattered.
"What I am will always be what I am, Slayer," he grumbled, blinking away the tears and meeting her gaze with his lips quivering as he tried to hold his emotions back. "And what I am is NOT fit to be a father. What the hell should I tell her as a goodnight story? About Dru? The Scourge? About how I became what I am? Explain to her that daddy-O isn't quite human?" He shook his head. "It'll never be 'over' or 'finished', Buffy. It's what I am."
Buffy frowned, shaking her head as well and crossing her arms over her chest.
"You don't believe that," she stated, the calm in her reminding him of Sarah and he felt like crying hard, feeling fifteen again and humble before this woman, this Slayer. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through right now," she now continued, letting her arms fall to her sides as she took the few steps dividing them. "But I have never seen you look like this, I have NEVER seen you look so defeated and sad, Spike. You're scaring me, I admit that, but I feel even more that you can, and that you WILL come out of this stronger than before. Baby, look at me." He did. "You have changed. And if this life, that WE have made, isn't reason enough for that then look at me and tell me you don't love me. That what we've been through together was all just something I've dreamed and that you never loved me and then I'll let you go.even if it kills me I know I'll have to let you go."
He stared at her, into her eyes and felt that very love for her start to tenderly push everything else aside. The pain slowly subsided into something numb in the pit of his stomach; the grief was blending with the tears in his eyes and settling a portion of itself in his throat. The memories reluctantly pulled back into the darker corners of his mind and he gratefully turned the light of his thoughts as far away from them as possible.
And all thanks to this love, he thought. How could I even for one bloody minute think that it's nothing? It's everything.
Living even one moment out of reach from her would be.true death. He could just as well drive a stake through his heart himself.
"I can't go on.without you," he murmured and relief drew soft lines across her face as she smiled a little, her eyes tearing up as she nodded a little. "You know that, love." he added and she smiled wider as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pulled herself close to him.
He held her, kissed her neck lightly, took her in, disbelieving the fact that she hadn't turned from him. Even with all that he just had stated she hadn't turned away from him. And he closed his eyes with gratitude, feeling that very relief he had seen on her features moments before bloom gently in his chest.
"Your past is your past," she mumbled against his neck. "Your future is with me, with her. You're gonna be the best dad in the world, you'll see," she added and at that he smiled as his tears spilled over.
"What about the goodnight stories?" he asked silently and she laughed a low laugh.
"You tell her about who you were before Dru, tell her about Sarah and Jacob and England, she'll wanna know why you talk so funny, you know."
"Hey," he said in a fake-insulted tone and then he smiled against her neck. "Nothing funny 'bout how I talk, it's you all who are the weirdoes."
She smiled as well.
"Or," she now said, "you could tell her the story of you and me.the good parts, I mean, not the fighting-each-other-'til-one-is-close-to-death parts.and not the R rated parts either."
"Excuse me," he interrupted, pulling away slightly to look down at her. "Who do you take me for?"
"Well, you DID tell Dawn a lot of stuff that I think I would have rather you didn't."
"Wise-ass," he grumbled at that and then he smiled widely as she did the same and he bent down and kissed her lightly on the mouth.
"Tell her about how much you love me," she said and he smiled.
"That would take a lotta nights, pet.I don't think it'd be a VERY good idea," he stated and she threw her head back and laughed.
"God, I love you," she said, still smiling and looking up at him. "Promise me." she trailed off and he observed her for a moment.
"Anything," he said gently.
"Promise me we'll always talk like this.even if that means screaming at each other once in a while, we'll always have this afterwards," she said and he smiled widely again, nodding.
"I promise," he stated honestly and she leaned closer, resting her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes.
"You really scared me," she mumbled and he looked up and out over the graveyard.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, holding her closer. "I was scared of loosing you."
"Me?" she asked, surprised, and he drew a breath, nodding a little before answering:
"Yeah. you. And her. I'm really scared now 'cause I have so many reasons not to wanna get killed or hurt. I have so many reasons now," he grumbled and she pulled her head back a little to look up at him. "What the devil would I do if anything ever happened to you?" he asked, carefully stroking a strand of hair out of her face and she smiled a little. "'The past is the past', eh?" he now added and she nodded. "I hope it's that bloody easy," he stated and she smiled again, standing on her toes to give him a soft kiss.
"I'll always be here when you need me," she whispered and he smiled a little. "I'll listen to the whole gruesome tale if it would make you feel any better," she added with a small smirk and he smiled wider, shaking his head at her.
"I don't think THAT would make me feel any better about ANYTHING," he said and she smiled as well.
"Fine then, just as long as you know that if you NEED to, I WILL listen and I won't judge you for it. I can't anymore," she stated silently and then she embraced him hard. "Because I love you, and I know who you are now, and nothing will ever change that."
He closed his eyes, holding her just as tight and praying with everything in him that what she had just stated was true, that nothing would ever come between them, because he knew that if anything ever did they would both die.
***
Torah stared at the human lying in front of her on the hard stone floor. She observed her closely, her face bearing the unyielding expression of cold concentration and Warren, Andrew and Jonathan all watched her breathlessly.
The mortal was weak; that was the first observation she made. It was a female, quite a pretty specimen, her blond hair reaching her shoulders and her blue eyes staring into the ceiling. She was sedated, of course, with magic and her mind was opening up like a sunflower to light. Torah smiled a little as her own thoughts started picking up the images of the mortal's memories.
Greedily the demon drew the information out of the human, and when she was finally done she sighed a little, shaking her head to herself as the light went out of the girls eyes.
"Poor, miserable being," she mumbled almost lovingly as she knelt down and reached out a hand to trace it along the young woman's cheek, jaw line and up over her forehead. "I thank you."
Then she closed the girl's eyes and stood again, turning to the Trio who all almost seemed to want to take a step back in unison. That smile was still painting her lips and it looked incredibly misplaced, as though it had been drawn askew and now was trying to straighten its position out.
"The necklace of Karatka," she said, reaching out a hand towards Jonathan and he gulped as he dug inside one of his pockets and brought the ancient artifact out.
He could feel a small pulse from it, almost as though the red stones of it had a heart beating somewhere, and it stung the palm of his hand where it touched his skin. He didn't like it, and he was more than glad to be rid of it.
Torah's eyes began to glow with recognition as she reached out and took the necklace from his outstretched hand.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I know. And soon I shall, but first I need your help. to become."
The Trio stared at her as she smiled, seemingly listening to a voice they had not the hearing nor the form to pick up. And when she nodded slowly she looked more dangerous than they had seen her yet.
"I will owe you your freedom, of course, Karatka. And together we shall rule again?"
The Trio swallowed hard at that, staring at one another as Torah laughed a dry laugh.
"Well, my darling," she said. "I won't seek vengeance on you if you promise not to lock me up again.a promise of the unbreakable kind, naturally."
Warren stared at her at that and then he almost moaned a little.
"What?" Andrew asked, fidgeting nervously at his side. "What is it?"
Warren sighed, shaking his head and turning to the other two.
"It's her husband," he grumbled. "Karatka is her husband."
Torah turned her eyes on the mortals again and she almost laughed at their distraught expressions.
"Oh yes, he is," she said, nodding. "He's my friend, my lover, my confidant," she stated with a gleeful smile, wondering how the hell the Slayer could actually mean those words when she spoke them to a demon, a creature that should be her enemy.
That question was what vexed Torah the most since she couldn't even understand the fact that she had to ask it. She had never loved in her life. She had craved and needed with passion, she had raged and felt jealousy if Karatka looked at another.but that had been all for herself. She hadn't been able to stand the thought of her husband wanting anyone but her, and she had craved and needed with that passion simply because it amused her to, passion was a strong feeling to harbor and she liked the high of it.
Love?
She huffed at the mere thought.
Love made the strong weak; look at the stupid vampire, he was pathetic now. Love only led to pain which she of course treasured, but it also could lead to that absolutely skin crawling thing called "happiness". Oh, the torture love must be.
She laughed at that, it was too fitting. Such a splendid way to use an emotion as long as you didn't need to feel it; never had to endure it. The tragedy of a broken heart had for millenniums bemused the under world. "Romeo and Juliet" was one of the most long lasting comedies of all time, or so she had been told recently.
"Since I haven't been around for a thousand frigging years," she grumbled with a glare at the necklace and the stones seemed to shimmer slightly. "Stop laughing, you nit, or I'll crush you under my heel!" she exclaimed and this time the Trio did pull back slightly.
Well, she now thought, looking down at the dead body at her feet. We shall revive you, my pretty, but not to your former self. I'm sorry to use you as a pawn in this game of mine, but it is quite necessary, of course. You'll make a pretty Slayer, I believe. A pretty little Buffy, and when you've destroyed the heart of that dull vamp he'll be so much more fun. Smash his love and faith in his loved one to pieces, my dear, and he will turn to the dark in him for strength to destroy her. For strength to ignore that chip in his head and kill them all.
She turned her eyes to the necklace again, it looked almost as though set on fire and she smiled widely.
Yes, the love that combined the Slayer and her vampire would break them more than apart, it would bring them to their knees and they would suffer and they would both die.
The Continuance
By Annie
06-12-2002
The door to the Magic Box opened and closed, the small bell jingling in announcement, but nobody seemed to take any notice. Seeing the vampire cry with such unmasked grief was something that seemed to place a hush over the assembled people.
Dawn stared at her sister, who was whispering something and gently stroking her hand across his back, holding him close to her. Then she looked at the shaking shoulders of the being she had always considered more or less unbreakable. Not even Buffy's torturing hate and resentment had made him break like this. Dawn was quite shaken by it and so was Giles.
He took off his glasses and polished them, trying to gather his thoughts, he blinked a little putting them back on and then he frowned slightly at the scene of such open vulnerability. It was quite extraordinary and he couldn't help but feel like the vampire truly was taking steps towards redemption, at least in the Watcher's eyes.
Anya looked around at all of them, starting to wring her hands slightly and not at all sure what to do. Should she say something? Wasn't the right thing to do in these kinds of situations to say something? When someone was in pain wasn't it the humane thing to do to try and ease it? (She disregarded the fact that she was back in her demon form.) The others seemed reluctant to speak though, she concluded, and then Xander's voice suddenly cut through the silence in which Spike's sobs had reigned.
"What happened? He vamp out and bite his tongue?" he asked and Anya turned two growing eyes to her man as he jumped down the steps and came to stand beside her.
Giles and Dawn looked up as well, both slightly shocked and disapproving in their expressions and Xander raised his shoulders.
"What?" he asked.
"Sch," Anya said, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer she continued: "The whole prophecy thing is out on the table and they're gonna have a child."
"Who are?" Xander asked and Anya raised her eyebrows.
"Buffy and Spike," she answered as though that should be perfectly obvious and now Xander's eyes widened.
"A CHILD?" he burst out and this made Buffy and Spike both jerk away slightly from each other to turn and look at him.
Spike's face was completely drenched in tears and he was sniffling as he got to his feet, running a hand across the streaks on his cheeks to dry them off though new tears already were rising. Buffy got to her feet as well and Xander stared at them.
"A girl," Spike confirmed, voice so hoarse it almost didn't come out audible, but Xander picked it up all right and he stared at him and then at the Slayer.
"A girl?" Xander asked and Buffy smiled tentatively before nodding. "I.can't believe it," he mumbled, a bewildered expression spreading on his face.
"Me neither," she said, her voice thin and she cleared her throat.
Spike looked at Xander and then around at them all before stopping at Buffy.
"I shouldn't be the father," he growled and her eyes filled with an expression of pain for him, for what she knew he was thinking as she reached for his hand.
He pulled away, taking a step back and shaking his head.
"I thought: what a gift, what an incredible gift to be bloody handed like this. But Buffy.how the hell can I accept it? What kind of a father would I be, would I make?"
Tears were welling up again as he met her gaze, her eyes growing glazy as well as she shook her head that he was wrong, but he turned around and ran from her; through the door to the Magic Box, fleeing into the night.
Buffy turned to Giles who was clenching his jaws together tightly, only nodding at her look and then she turned and ran after Spike.
The silence settled over the four in the shop after the door closed behind her back, the soft jingle of the bell once more heard and the small echo of it soon dying away, smothered by the stillness.
Dawn's heart was beating hard in her chest. The absolute sorrow in Spike's eyes.she had never seen anything like it. He hadn't even looked like it grieving Buffy last year, and then she had seen him more frail at times than she ever could have expected from him, even though he quickly got rid of the appearance as soon as he sensed her approaching.
He always did that, tried to protect her, and last summer she knew he had wanted to support her, not pull her down further with the burden of his own broken heart.
She wished she could be of support to him now, but that was Buffy's role, she supposed, and so she would just have to do the best she could and let him know how wrong she thought he was, the next time she saw him.
Xander turned his eyes to Anya, who smiled a little, reaching out a hand.
"Are you okay?" she asked and he opened his mouth to answer, but no sound seemed to want to come out.
"Quite.quite extraordinary," Giles mumbled to himself, looking thoughtful as he turned and climbed up the small stairs to the second floor of the shop, walking in among the rows of books to have a moment to himself.
"I just.don't understand how," Xander now grumbled and Anya squeezed his hand a little.
"Well, you see, something happened in England that had something to do with bright light and Buffy and Spike having sex.in it.but only for a moment which was really an hour, and Buffy lent Spike her soul which made him live and so all his manly goods worked and they could make a baby," Anya said and Xander frowned slightly at that.
"Honey, as always I have almost no idea what the heck you're talking about," he stated gently and then smiled a little. "But thanks for trying."
She sighed slightly, turning around as Giles came back down she said:
"I don't get it. If Buffy's soul was inside Spike when they had sex in that.whatever, then SHE was.I don't know, dead, right? And it still worked?"
Giles looked up at her distractedly and then he seemed to focus, shaking his head he answered:
"No, Buffy was only without her soul for the short time when it went into Spike.then it returned to her for the actual.hmh, has anyone seen a notebook? I'm sure I left it here somewhere."
"I didn't take it," Dawn said, finally snapping out of her thoughts and getting off the chair. "I don't do that anymore," she added and Giles smiled a little.
"No, of course, it was merely a qu-."
"Here it is," Anya said, turning around and grabbing it off the counter. "It's heavy.what is it?"
"Oh, just my notes." he mumbled, taking it with a nod and walking back up to the second floor.
"This is all very confusing." Xander mumbled, mostly to himself, but Dawn retorted cheerfully:
"And what? You thought the creation of life would be a piece of cake?"
***
He was blinded by tears, but ran anyway. He wanted to outrun the rawness, the nude pain that was overpowering him. He wanted to outrun the black and white memories of a lifetime painted crimson red. And if he found out that he couldn't run from it, then he would fall to his knees from trying, and he would breathe even though he didn't need to, and he would cry even though he shouldn't, and he would tear his chest open just to claw out this feeling of absolute sadness.
Every last part of him was drenched in the gray matter of that sadness and grief it carried with it and it was even more excruciating in the knowledge that he was the only one who could shoulder it: the blame.
So many lives, too many lives, staining his body, his mind, his heart and in that they stained this love inside of him that had made him see light when there was none, that had made him strong when he should have been weak, that had made him feel life in the midst of death. that had built something where he always had been apt to tear everything down.
It was staining her; staining Buffy.
He screamed at that. The sound rose out of his lungs with such force that the rocks close to his feet shattered into a thousand pieces and the wave of his voice went crashing into the branches of the trees, ruffling them as though it was a heavy wind.
He stopped then, his chest heaving and he wanted to cut it off, stop breathing, but he couldn't.
"Oh, God," he whispered, putting his hands to his face and shaking his head to himself. "So cruel.so bloody cruel."
A thousand faces crammed his mind just to make way for a thousand others.
"How many?" he whispered now as he sunk down on his knees, bending forward with his hands still plastered over his eyes as though they were the screen of this macabre show his memory was putting on for him and he was as unable to remove them as he was his thoughts from his head. "How many did I kill? How many have I killed? Murdered? I'm a murderer.a creature.soulless and evil.just like she always told me. This love.is nothing, it can't mean anything."
And he bent forward, resting his forehead on the moist grass and he knew that he was close to where he belonged: his crypt, his grave; he was at his cemetery - his home.
Faces of children, oh God, the children, and women and men of all ages and how he had laughed at them, at their vulnerability at not even knowing what he was. How he had enchanted them, how he had made the women follow him with just one glance, one smile, made them fall into his arms with one brief touch, how he had played his games with the men, learning ever so from his grandsire and from Drusilla's twisted needs and cravings.
He had indulged in death and despair, in destruction and devouring of the innocent, of the feeble little mortals that looked at him in wonder and enthrallment and with an irresistible sense of sensuality, his lips on their hot skin and then his fangs, sinking into their beautiful flesh and drawing the life out of them.
The ironic part was that so many of his victims had succumb to him more than easily, had brought a hand up and put it behind his neck, pressing gently as though bidding his mouth to close tighter, drink harder.
But that had all been in the early days.when William wouldn't leave the demon alone, when he romanticized it all to be able to deal with it because he still heard a faint whisper lingering from the conscience he would soon loose.
And when that conscience could do nothing but leave - escape out of the mind so blackened with the passion of the taking of life - he had killed, he had slaughtered with no remorse, he had journeyed on a mad trip with the Scourge and he had enjoyed it so thoroughly that he had believed it would never end. When it did he had gone on with Drusilla by his side, his beloved little fragile doll.and then he had come to Sunnydale for the third notch in his Slayer belt. And slowly but surely everything had come to a halt.
Nothing was as sweet as before. Not the power, not the killing, not the hunt.the blood lost its taste and he had refused to admit it. But yes, every time he had fed it had been her he had seen and it had made him sick. And even angrier with her, with what she was turning him into.
She had changed him, but it was all for nothing.
"A daughter." he mumbled, his tears slipping down his nose and hitting the clear, green grass beneath it.
How could it be, this gift, if not for it to be taken from him? For her to be slaughtered in the same way he had slaughtered, for him to suffer the same loss which he had bestowed upon so many? And Buffy, his sweet, wonderful, strong Slayer: his love.she wouldn't be able to look at him anymore. How she could stand to be close to him was starting to be a mystery to him.
And then, suddenly, warm fingers sliding over his back, grabbing his face gently, pulling him up and into a hard embrace by arms he knew almost better than his own he sometimes thought; and her scent was there, embedding him in the calmness of her thumping heart, in the softness of her deep breaths. He realized she must have been running fast in order to catch up with him so soon.
Not until now did he slowly move his hands away from his eyes and five of her fingers were in his hair, carefully pushing his face to her shoulder and he buried it there, feeling like he could have rested it there forever and ever.
And then he realized that she was shaking, that she was crying as well and he pulled away from her with a hard tug, dropping himself backwards and crawling a little away from her as he stared into her widening eyes, big tears sure enough making rough paths down her smooth cheeks.
He had put them there, and then an even more horrid realization hit him.
"I kicked you." he whispered and her eyes grew a little more in question. "I kicked you in the stomach," he elaborated and she looked at him with such a sudden serene expression that he swallowed hard. "Well?" he then asked and she shook her head slowly.
"I'm fine," she answered him and now his eyes grew as he reached up a hand to brush at the tears.
"I know," he stated, sniffling like another idiot, but not able not to as he pulled up and sat to face her. "I wouldn't have kicked you if I hadn't bloody well known that you'd be all right, now would I?" he added and she smiled a little.
"No," she said and he nodded, satisfied with her knowing that. "She is fine too," she then added and he looked up sharply, fresh tears filling his eyes, but he didn't seem to really take notice. "It's strange. I knew something was different, and now that I know WHAT. It's like I can feel her. It's incredible."
He stared at her in sudden, growing awe and wonder as she gently placed one hand on her stomach.
"I know she's tiny, she's tinier than that even.but I can feel her, Spike," she said again and looked up, into his blue eyes that were now so filled with love that a new glimmer of tears stroked her eyes and she smiled again.
Then the love was mixed with that absolutely horrifying sorrow that she had seen before and he looked away, shaking his head and clenching his jaws tightly together as he began speaking in a low voice.
"The first time I hunted and killed by my own accord, alone in the dark with nothing and no one to watch me was one of the most powerful and altering moments of my existence. I knew then, instinctively, that I wasn't just gonna be another little meek vamp stalking the streets with no name and no real.purpose." He huffed a little, looking up at her again. "I was meant for something bigger than that. I felt invincible when my prey slowly died in my arms, his life force giving me my re-birth. Just like I would be reborn a thousand times over. And I knew that I was going to be known to every vampire that walked the Earth, that my name was going to put fear into those who." he shook his head a little and smiled bitterly, "sought to destroy me and those I thought of as allies. Bloody hell," he grumbled, getting to his feet and turning from her.
She rose as well.
"I was dark, and I loved it. Being bad suited me a hell of a lot better than that poking around in books and scribbling sweet nothings on blank little pieces of paper EVER did. I was evil to the core and I treasured the feeling of taking anything I wanted at any time and not caring about any consequences. Not HAVING to care." He turned to her now, and she met his gaze firmly, he knew she was listening closely and he knew that he was signing the death warrant of her love for him, but he couldn't stop now, couldn't stop this truth. "The people I killed were to me what stock is to you, cows and horses are ground to neat little meat packages, well, that was how I saw humans. A pathetic little race that didn't know what they had walking around with them.the very key to immortality was right under their noses and they were jabbering on with their measly little theories and attempts at 'inventing' it, at cooking up the recipe from scratch. Unbelievable to even bloody well think it. To me they were blood banks, nothing more than that. They were amusing sometimes, one way or another, but not pleasurable, not satisfying me in any way other than through the feeding, the overcoming of their spirit, the taking of them."
He paused suddenly, thoughtful.
Buffy smiled a little as she understood even before he did why he had stopped himself, why he now was looking quite questioning as to what he was missing.
"That's right," she now spoke and he looked up, into her eyes as she approached him to stop before him. "You did all of that, that was what you were. All that pain and death and hatred, all that raw beauty of a time that you KNOW is gone now."
She suddenly reached up a hand and placed it over his heart, he could feel her body heat through the thin fabric of his T and it reached through his skin, cut through his flesh and crawled relentlessly around his heart, surrounding it with its intoxicating and vibrant life-force and he stared at her as she looked up at him.
"It's over. It's finished. That part of your existence is done with, and you know that, I know you do. You have done more good than I even thought possible, Spike. Look at yourself, and who you are now. You're not that vampire anymore, you're my friend, my lover, my confidant and I do love you; the Slayer who was supposed to be number three and ended up changing you loves you. And let me tell you something more," she said, making him meet her gaze again as he was about to look away. "You changed ME, for the better. I don't want you doubting that it was all for the better. The reason you're here is larger than anything you've done before.nothing of it matters now, can't you see that?"
He closed his eyes and saw faces and faces and faces and he stepped away from her again, shaking his head in pure agony, the need to listen to her not overcoming the titanic guilt inside his chest, the colossal regret over actions that had kept him alive.
Even so, they had been unrealistically cruel and he had taunted his victims, tortured them, made them suffer for nothing; a brief moment of joy for the cursed demon inside him as they wretched underneath the railroad spike; and then the small hint of relief from the William in him as the human mercifully died.
No, she wasn't being truthful to herself or him.
All of it mattered. All of it had always mattered.
"What I am will always be what I am, Slayer," he grumbled, blinking away the tears and meeting her gaze with his lips quivering as he tried to hold his emotions back. "And what I am is NOT fit to be a father. What the hell should I tell her as a goodnight story? About Dru? The Scourge? About how I became what I am? Explain to her that daddy-O isn't quite human?" He shook his head. "It'll never be 'over' or 'finished', Buffy. It's what I am."
Buffy frowned, shaking her head as well and crossing her arms over her chest.
"You don't believe that," she stated, the calm in her reminding him of Sarah and he felt like crying hard, feeling fifteen again and humble before this woman, this Slayer. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through right now," she now continued, letting her arms fall to her sides as she took the few steps dividing them. "But I have never seen you look like this, I have NEVER seen you look so defeated and sad, Spike. You're scaring me, I admit that, but I feel even more that you can, and that you WILL come out of this stronger than before. Baby, look at me." He did. "You have changed. And if this life, that WE have made, isn't reason enough for that then look at me and tell me you don't love me. That what we've been through together was all just something I've dreamed and that you never loved me and then I'll let you go.even if it kills me I know I'll have to let you go."
He stared at her, into her eyes and felt that very love for her start to tenderly push everything else aside. The pain slowly subsided into something numb in the pit of his stomach; the grief was blending with the tears in his eyes and settling a portion of itself in his throat. The memories reluctantly pulled back into the darker corners of his mind and he gratefully turned the light of his thoughts as far away from them as possible.
And all thanks to this love, he thought. How could I even for one bloody minute think that it's nothing? It's everything.
Living even one moment out of reach from her would be.true death. He could just as well drive a stake through his heart himself.
"I can't go on.without you," he murmured and relief drew soft lines across her face as she smiled a little, her eyes tearing up as she nodded a little. "You know that, love." he added and she smiled wider as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pulled herself close to him.
He held her, kissed her neck lightly, took her in, disbelieving the fact that she hadn't turned from him. Even with all that he just had stated she hadn't turned away from him. And he closed his eyes with gratitude, feeling that very relief he had seen on her features moments before bloom gently in his chest.
"Your past is your past," she mumbled against his neck. "Your future is with me, with her. You're gonna be the best dad in the world, you'll see," she added and at that he smiled as his tears spilled over.
"What about the goodnight stories?" he asked silently and she laughed a low laugh.
"You tell her about who you were before Dru, tell her about Sarah and Jacob and England, she'll wanna know why you talk so funny, you know."
"Hey," he said in a fake-insulted tone and then he smiled against her neck. "Nothing funny 'bout how I talk, it's you all who are the weirdoes."
She smiled as well.
"Or," she now said, "you could tell her the story of you and me.the good parts, I mean, not the fighting-each-other-'til-one-is-close-to-death parts.and not the R rated parts either."
"Excuse me," he interrupted, pulling away slightly to look down at her. "Who do you take me for?"
"Well, you DID tell Dawn a lot of stuff that I think I would have rather you didn't."
"Wise-ass," he grumbled at that and then he smiled widely as she did the same and he bent down and kissed her lightly on the mouth.
"Tell her about how much you love me," she said and he smiled.
"That would take a lotta nights, pet.I don't think it'd be a VERY good idea," he stated and she threw her head back and laughed.
"God, I love you," she said, still smiling and looking up at him. "Promise me." she trailed off and he observed her for a moment.
"Anything," he said gently.
"Promise me we'll always talk like this.even if that means screaming at each other once in a while, we'll always have this afterwards," she said and he smiled widely again, nodding.
"I promise," he stated honestly and she leaned closer, resting her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes.
"You really scared me," she mumbled and he looked up and out over the graveyard.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, holding her closer. "I was scared of loosing you."
"Me?" she asked, surprised, and he drew a breath, nodding a little before answering:
"Yeah. you. And her. I'm really scared now 'cause I have so many reasons not to wanna get killed or hurt. I have so many reasons now," he grumbled and she pulled her head back a little to look up at him. "What the devil would I do if anything ever happened to you?" he asked, carefully stroking a strand of hair out of her face and she smiled a little. "'The past is the past', eh?" he now added and she nodded. "I hope it's that bloody easy," he stated and she smiled again, standing on her toes to give him a soft kiss.
"I'll always be here when you need me," she whispered and he smiled a little. "I'll listen to the whole gruesome tale if it would make you feel any better," she added with a small smirk and he smiled wider, shaking his head at her.
"I don't think THAT would make me feel any better about ANYTHING," he said and she smiled as well.
"Fine then, just as long as you know that if you NEED to, I WILL listen and I won't judge you for it. I can't anymore," she stated silently and then she embraced him hard. "Because I love you, and I know who you are now, and nothing will ever change that."
He closed his eyes, holding her just as tight and praying with everything in him that what she had just stated was true, that nothing would ever come between them, because he knew that if anything ever did they would both die.
***
Torah stared at the human lying in front of her on the hard stone floor. She observed her closely, her face bearing the unyielding expression of cold concentration and Warren, Andrew and Jonathan all watched her breathlessly.
The mortal was weak; that was the first observation she made. It was a female, quite a pretty specimen, her blond hair reaching her shoulders and her blue eyes staring into the ceiling. She was sedated, of course, with magic and her mind was opening up like a sunflower to light. Torah smiled a little as her own thoughts started picking up the images of the mortal's memories.
Greedily the demon drew the information out of the human, and when she was finally done she sighed a little, shaking her head to herself as the light went out of the girls eyes.
"Poor, miserable being," she mumbled almost lovingly as she knelt down and reached out a hand to trace it along the young woman's cheek, jaw line and up over her forehead. "I thank you."
Then she closed the girl's eyes and stood again, turning to the Trio who all almost seemed to want to take a step back in unison. That smile was still painting her lips and it looked incredibly misplaced, as though it had been drawn askew and now was trying to straighten its position out.
"The necklace of Karatka," she said, reaching out a hand towards Jonathan and he gulped as he dug inside one of his pockets and brought the ancient artifact out.
He could feel a small pulse from it, almost as though the red stones of it had a heart beating somewhere, and it stung the palm of his hand where it touched his skin. He didn't like it, and he was more than glad to be rid of it.
Torah's eyes began to glow with recognition as she reached out and took the necklace from his outstretched hand.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I know. And soon I shall, but first I need your help. to become."
The Trio stared at her as she smiled, seemingly listening to a voice they had not the hearing nor the form to pick up. And when she nodded slowly she looked more dangerous than they had seen her yet.
"I will owe you your freedom, of course, Karatka. And together we shall rule again?"
The Trio swallowed hard at that, staring at one another as Torah laughed a dry laugh.
"Well, my darling," she said. "I won't seek vengeance on you if you promise not to lock me up again.a promise of the unbreakable kind, naturally."
Warren stared at her at that and then he almost moaned a little.
"What?" Andrew asked, fidgeting nervously at his side. "What is it?"
Warren sighed, shaking his head and turning to the other two.
"It's her husband," he grumbled. "Karatka is her husband."
Torah turned her eyes on the mortals again and she almost laughed at their distraught expressions.
"Oh yes, he is," she said, nodding. "He's my friend, my lover, my confidant," she stated with a gleeful smile, wondering how the hell the Slayer could actually mean those words when she spoke them to a demon, a creature that should be her enemy.
That question was what vexed Torah the most since she couldn't even understand the fact that she had to ask it. She had never loved in her life. She had craved and needed with passion, she had raged and felt jealousy if Karatka looked at another.but that had been all for herself. She hadn't been able to stand the thought of her husband wanting anyone but her, and she had craved and needed with that passion simply because it amused her to, passion was a strong feeling to harbor and she liked the high of it.
Love?
She huffed at the mere thought.
Love made the strong weak; look at the stupid vampire, he was pathetic now. Love only led to pain which she of course treasured, but it also could lead to that absolutely skin crawling thing called "happiness". Oh, the torture love must be.
She laughed at that, it was too fitting. Such a splendid way to use an emotion as long as you didn't need to feel it; never had to endure it. The tragedy of a broken heart had for millenniums bemused the under world. "Romeo and Juliet" was one of the most long lasting comedies of all time, or so she had been told recently.
"Since I haven't been around for a thousand frigging years," she grumbled with a glare at the necklace and the stones seemed to shimmer slightly. "Stop laughing, you nit, or I'll crush you under my heel!" she exclaimed and this time the Trio did pull back slightly.
Well, she now thought, looking down at the dead body at her feet. We shall revive you, my pretty, but not to your former self. I'm sorry to use you as a pawn in this game of mine, but it is quite necessary, of course. You'll make a pretty Slayer, I believe. A pretty little Buffy, and when you've destroyed the heart of that dull vamp he'll be so much more fun. Smash his love and faith in his loved one to pieces, my dear, and he will turn to the dark in him for strength to destroy her. For strength to ignore that chip in his head and kill them all.
She turned her eyes to the necklace again, it looked almost as though set on fire and she smiled widely.
Yes, the love that combined the Slayer and her vampire would break them more than apart, it would bring them to their knees and they would suffer and they would both die.