Good Afternoon, All:)
Hope everyone is having a pleasant Saturday.
Well, here we go. Welcome to the wide world of angst. I sort of hate to do this to you, but it'll make you like me all the more when I set things right. Have a little faith. In the meantime, have a little chocolate.
Let me be clear on this as the story is a little different than the rest of Peacemaker. This is a flashforward chapter. It's a look into the lives of William and Emma and their relationships to their parents, and each other. It's about the choices we all make and how, in the end, they change all we have worked for. A glimpse into the future.
So, ask yourself this, if one knows what is to come, can one change his or her path?
Enjoy, and please let me know how you feel. No lynch mobs please ;). It will get better... eventually.
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue
"As sick as it sounds, in my little head, there's a little Sunnydale, and a widdle Buffy, and a widdle Spike, and Spike wubs Buffy." James Marsters 14 July 2002
Title: The Poet (Time - Chapter Twelve)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
Summary: Set directly after Seven. William is trapped in time. But what does he see? And what is real? Is this the way? And can he ever set it right.
The Poet
Spiraling though twinkling lights. The only way to describe it, really. Although, at that point in life, descriptive adjectives are few and far between. But, in hindsight, or rather foresight, that is what it was. Spiraling, and thudding into reality. Some reality. At least, that is how it seemed.
"Ooooooowwwwww," he screamed, and then the building, wailing, moan that only children can generate, just before the water works kick in. "Mmmmuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmy!"
Footsteps barreling down the hall. Feet used to running to save the world. Although, he didn't know that. Not yet. Not then.
Then another set. Heavier. Stampeding up the stairs like Armageddon had arrived.
He fell onto his behind with a thud, tears streaming, mouth agape, wailing in hitching, childlike sobs. She stood in front of him, pretty little hands on pretty little hips, staring down with wild blue eyes. "You're *such* a baby," she huffed, turning on a bare heel, just as Buffy appeared in the doorway, concern crinkling her face.
"What happened?" Buffy asked, running over to the sobbing little ball of blonde hair huddled on the floor. She scooped him up, pulling him against her.
Spike stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, taking a deep breath after sussing out that no one had fallen through a portal or lay bleeding on the floor. "Everything alright?"
Buffy bounced the boy, shh'ing him. He laid his head against her shoulder and sobbed endlessly into her shirt. "Emma, what happened?"
"Mum, he *always* comes in here and takes my stuff. He had Bunny," Emma whined. Seven, Buffy thought. Not the most selfless age.
"Emma," Spike said firmly, but his eyes betraying his softness for the girl. He lowered until he crouched at her eye level. "You've got to learn to share."
Emma's lip jutted out into a pout that could break a demon's heart and did on a regular basis. "Not Bunny," she said quietly, the lip trembling. "I wouldn't mind so much, but he gets them all smelly." Her tears began to fall at her father's disapproving glare.
Spike glanced over at Buffy and rolled his eyes. Emma stood still, teary eyed and staring at her father. "All right," he broke, lifting her into his arms. "But what'd you do to make him all soggy?"
Emma looked over at her mum and pesky little brother and sighed. "I pushed him."
William began to wail again, forcing Buffy to bounce him harder.
"Emma," Buffy said, her voice annoyed but somehow still patient. "He's only four. You can't just push him down ..."
"You *always* side with him," Emma snapped, venom lacing her words.
Spike took her chin gently in his hand and turned her face towards his, forcing her to look at him. "Don't *ever* talk to your mum like that. She's not siding. Besides, you're bigger now. Shouldn't push him round. Know why?"
Her lips trembled, her wide eyes frightened at his relative anger. "Why... daddy?"
Stop *doing* that, Spike thought. Ruining a perfectly good parental lecture with big, wet, doe eyes. "Because one day he'll be bigger 'en you," he snarked, causing her to giggle just a bit. "And because he's your blood. When it comes down to it, that's what's most important."
Emma looked at him, her eyes becoming ageless once again. Her face reasonable. "OK," she replied softly. "But please tell him not to take Bunny anymore."
"Right," Spike answered, setting her down. "Now, think you've got dishes to do." He patted her shoulder and she sulked out the door.
"Think she'll listen?" Buffy asked as William began to calm against her, his little blond head lolling against her shoulder.
Spike chuckled. "Bets on about an hour."
"Fun," Buffy snarked, stroking the little boy's hair.
"And you," Spike commented, loosing William and taking him from Buffy. "Gotta learn to stand up for yourself. Can't let the girls get the better of you."
Buffy giggled. "Oh yeah. Great role model there."
Spike smirked over at his love.
"Daddy, she push me," the boy said softly.
"You know what you do then?" Spike asked. Buffy quirked an eyebrow, waiting.
"Push back?" William questioned, wide eyed.
"No!" Both Buffy and Spike answered in unison.
"You stand up, brush yourself off, then stalk away," Spike answered. "Give her a *mean* look. Like this." Spike glared at the boy with those piercing blue eyes and the child shuddered. "Works every time."
"She's your sister, Will," Buffy continued. "She loves you. She's just going to be tough on you sometimes. It's in the sister handbook."
"But," Spike added, setting the boy on his feet. "You're to stay out of her things, alright? You've got a room full of toys of your own. Leave hers be."
William looked up, a miniature clone of his father, down to tiny black jeans and black high tops as Doc Marten hadn't catered to the toddler market. "B'I like Bunny."
Spike sighed. "Sometimes we don't always get what we want." He looked over at Buffy. "And sometimes what we get is better."
William looked at his mother and smiled, then looked back to Spike, an enormous yawn escaping his tiny mouth. "Wanna nap?" Buffy asked, grinning at his amazing cuteness.
Instead of answering, the little boy stretched his arms skyward, waiting to be picked up. "With ya kid," she uttered, yawning herself. "If we go lay down, do you have Miss Priss?"
Spike nodded, kissing Buffy's cheek. "Bet she's just like you at that age," Spike snarked, grinning slyly. Buffy attempted a smirk, but a yawn got in the way. "Sleep well, Pet."
"Bed," she muttered, padding into the hall, baby clutched to her hip.
*****
Falling, really. Like Alice through the rabbit hole. Except with scores of dancing silver pixies. Or something of that nature. Beautiful, really, if it weren't for not knowing why or when or how. And for that feeling of being alone in it all.
"Will?" A pat on the back of the shoulder woke him. He shook sleep from his head, craning his neck to look around.
"Hmmm? What?" He looked around. A room full of books. A round oak table. His head buried between an American Lit textbook and Mc Nally's guide to the Occult. A journal of what he recognized as his own writing lying in between.
"Dozed off for a moment," the kind, even voice said.
William looked at the man, disconcerted. "Uncle Rupert?"
Giles laughed. He was older now, graying, but his eyes still danced underneath thicker glasses. "You alright, Will? Difficult day in class?"
William looked at the books below him, then his hands, and his conservative button down shirt. His voice cracked as he spoke. The sign of boy becoming man. "Where's mum?"
"In the training room with your father," Giles answered. He paused, removing his glasses, swiping them on his shirttail. "Will, I know you've been of great help to Cyrus and I with research. But you're thirteen now. I think you might benefit from a spot of training with your parents. Emma wasn't fond of the idea either, but it could prove to.."
"I've no use for such things," William interrupted, pushing his own glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The barbarian tactics are best left to those possessed with supernatural strength."
"Emma has no strength in comparison to your parents. Less than you, physically," Giles retorted. "But she has learned to defend herself. It's the world in which we live, William."
"I'm much more suited to this," the teen answered, gesturing at his books. "And Emma has proved several hundred times over that she is no ordinary teenager. She needs no physical strength to accomplish her mission."
Giles sighed. "Perhaps you're right. And we do value your assistance here and respect your desire to write. But she is your sister. And there will come a time when she will need..."
"My parents are her protectors," William cut in. "I want to help her, but I am more of a liability than an asset in battle."
"William, it doesn't have to be that way," Giles commented, thinking back to William's one attempt to defend his sister in a far less sinister environment. School. And coming home tattered and bloodied, broken glasses and shattered pride driving him back into his journal. "Even without your parents' strength or your sister's power, you can learn to be of service in the field of battle. Look at me. I've no particular physical prowess. Far less than you have inherited just by being the child of two supernatural people. And your Uncle Xander..."
"I'm of more use here," William sighed, flopping his head down on the open occult text, sandy brown hair falling into his eyes. As his face buried in the pages, the door swung open with a jingle, garnering his attention.
The girl strode through the door, all legs and blonde waves and startling blue eyes as deep as the sea. An unearthly grace all around her like a halo. "Hey, Uncle Giles."
"Hello, Emma," Giles answered, grinning and kissing her cheek.
"Will," she grinned, throwing her arms around him from behind the chair. He growled, but there were few things more dear to him than her attention. Many a poem had been written about the sweetness of his sister. "Where's daddy?" She asked, letting him loose.
"Beating up mum," Will snarked, turning his attention back to the books.
Emma laughed and the sound was deep and rich and lyrical. "Doubt that. Either she's got him pinned to a wall or they're all kissy-kissy and pretending like they're training."
Giles blushed. Emma understood her parents better than most. "You may think to knock before you set off.."
"Always," Emma laughed, rolling her eyes. "I *so* don't need to see that." She turned her attention back to her brother. "Will, wanna come? You can watch me try and kick dad and he'll climb up the wall to get away. Kinda cool."
"Pass," William answered, smiling at her. "Maybe next time."
"Suit yourself," she answered, striding off towards the training room door. William sighed, letting his head fall back into his arms.
"Tired," he mumbled, as the world became a hazy shade of grey.
*****
The lights were fast and furious this time. Buzzing like ecstatic fireflies all around him. The tumble to the bottom was rough, as if he slammed to the ground rather than thudding gently.
"William! Baby, are you alright?"
His eyes flickered open, a horrid buzzing in the back of his skull. The ground shook and tumbled underneath of them, spewing molten lava onto the macadam. "Mum?"
"Baby, run!" She pleaded, kissing his cheek. "Please run. I love you." Her hand cupped his face, her green eyes catching his. She was so beautiful. As beautiful now as she had been eighteen years earlier when he had first stared up into her eyes.
"Mum?" He gasped, panic in his voice.
Her tears fell, carving silver rivers down her cheeks. "Run," she whispered, letting go of his face and bolting up, running.
William tried to scramble to his feet, nearly crab walking down the alley, the Earth bucking and yawning beneath him. His eyes were hazy. His glasses gone. But he saw a light that glowed with more beauty than he could ever imagine. Than he ever could have penned into words.
"Emma?" He gasped.
She floated above the Earth, sheathed in white light. Her eyes lowered to him and tears caught in her gaze. She didn't speak. William wasn't sure that she could. But her hand raised and a ball of white light grew, flying from her towards him, surrounding him in her light.
He could hear her voice in his head. "It's me they want. You will be safe here, William."
Then nothing.
William was paralyzed, surrounded in the globe of light, somehow separated from the world around him. He watched her hover, glowing, peaceful. Their mum, sword in hand, battling in front of her. Their father behind. The pair circling like lions protecting their cub.
He could hear the faint snicker-snack of blades as they battled. The flash of bared teeth. The glint of his father's demon eyes. Rarely had Spike shown them his darker nature, but as he fought, moving around Emma in a dance with his lover, Spike's eyes glowed golden, his fangs dipping at the corners of his mouth.
William punched the ball, driven to them, but trapped. The demons were but shadows and darkness. How does one kill the darkness? They rose and fell around them like a dark tide, herding the three towards the opening in the Earth. The place where Hell met their world. They were after Emma. Trying to wrap around her. Destroy her light. Pull her in.
His parents, warriors of legends, would never let that happen. Not as long as either of them lived.
William's eyes shot nervously around. It wasn't until then he noticed them. All of them. Wounded. Dead. Everywhere. Uncle Rupert. Aunt Willow. Tara... Oh, God. Why were they here? "No!" He screamed on deaf ears, the sound bouncing and echoing in the bubble.
A shadow crept behind his mother, lapping up to Emma like a dark flame. Buffy spun, lashing out at it with her sword and it grabbed her. Spike lunged towards his love as she began to disappear into the Earth.
"Buffy, no! Please, no!" He could hear his father's screams as she sunk into blackness.
Emma's tears fell. Hopeless and helpless. Watching Spike chase Buffy, trying to pull her from oblivion, hanging onto her hand as if it was all there was left in the world. The shadows took the opening and circled Emma, darkness moving to overcome her light.
His sister's face. All beauty and dignity and grace. She stared at William, locking eyes. Spike turned his head and saw the darkness devouring his little girl. Torn between pulling Buffy from the ground. Fighting the battle to save Emma.
Spike looked at his lover's face. She said something wordlessly. He let go of her hand. No! Don't let her go! William screamed in his mind. Gone.
Like that, his mother was gone.
Spike fought his way up, tears streaming, throwing himself at the darkness in a tornado of rage and grief. Cutting through the shadows to loose his daughter. He turned, locking eyes with William and at that moment, William knew. Knew he could have helped. Knew that his father loved him. Knew that there was nothing he could do.
William watched them die. The darkness devouring them both, inch by inch. Spike grappling, fighting, falling for her. To save her. Until the shadows overcame him.
And Emma's light. All that was there was the glow and her eyes. And her tears.
And then darkness.
All that was left was him.
To be contd.
Hope everyone is having a pleasant Saturday.
Well, here we go. Welcome to the wide world of angst. I sort of hate to do this to you, but it'll make you like me all the more when I set things right. Have a little faith. In the meantime, have a little chocolate.
Let me be clear on this as the story is a little different than the rest of Peacemaker. This is a flashforward chapter. It's a look into the lives of William and Emma and their relationships to their parents, and each other. It's about the choices we all make and how, in the end, they change all we have worked for. A glimpse into the future.
So, ask yourself this, if one knows what is to come, can one change his or her path?
Enjoy, and please let me know how you feel. No lynch mobs please ;). It will get better... eventually.
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue
"As sick as it sounds, in my little head, there's a little Sunnydale, and a widdle Buffy, and a widdle Spike, and Spike wubs Buffy." James Marsters 14 July 2002
Title: The Poet (Time - Chapter Twelve)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG -13
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.
Feedback: Yes, please
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)
Summary: Set directly after Seven. William is trapped in time. But what does he see? And what is real? Is this the way? And can he ever set it right.
The Poet
Spiraling though twinkling lights. The only way to describe it, really. Although, at that point in life, descriptive adjectives are few and far between. But, in hindsight, or rather foresight, that is what it was. Spiraling, and thudding into reality. Some reality. At least, that is how it seemed.
"Ooooooowwwwww," he screamed, and then the building, wailing, moan that only children can generate, just before the water works kick in. "Mmmmuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmy!"
Footsteps barreling down the hall. Feet used to running to save the world. Although, he didn't know that. Not yet. Not then.
Then another set. Heavier. Stampeding up the stairs like Armageddon had arrived.
He fell onto his behind with a thud, tears streaming, mouth agape, wailing in hitching, childlike sobs. She stood in front of him, pretty little hands on pretty little hips, staring down with wild blue eyes. "You're *such* a baby," she huffed, turning on a bare heel, just as Buffy appeared in the doorway, concern crinkling her face.
"What happened?" Buffy asked, running over to the sobbing little ball of blonde hair huddled on the floor. She scooped him up, pulling him against her.
Spike stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, taking a deep breath after sussing out that no one had fallen through a portal or lay bleeding on the floor. "Everything alright?"
Buffy bounced the boy, shh'ing him. He laid his head against her shoulder and sobbed endlessly into her shirt. "Emma, what happened?"
"Mum, he *always* comes in here and takes my stuff. He had Bunny," Emma whined. Seven, Buffy thought. Not the most selfless age.
"Emma," Spike said firmly, but his eyes betraying his softness for the girl. He lowered until he crouched at her eye level. "You've got to learn to share."
Emma's lip jutted out into a pout that could break a demon's heart and did on a regular basis. "Not Bunny," she said quietly, the lip trembling. "I wouldn't mind so much, but he gets them all smelly." Her tears began to fall at her father's disapproving glare.
Spike glanced over at Buffy and rolled his eyes. Emma stood still, teary eyed and staring at her father. "All right," he broke, lifting her into his arms. "But what'd you do to make him all soggy?"
Emma looked over at her mum and pesky little brother and sighed. "I pushed him."
William began to wail again, forcing Buffy to bounce him harder.
"Emma," Buffy said, her voice annoyed but somehow still patient. "He's only four. You can't just push him down ..."
"You *always* side with him," Emma snapped, venom lacing her words.
Spike took her chin gently in his hand and turned her face towards his, forcing her to look at him. "Don't *ever* talk to your mum like that. She's not siding. Besides, you're bigger now. Shouldn't push him round. Know why?"
Her lips trembled, her wide eyes frightened at his relative anger. "Why... daddy?"
Stop *doing* that, Spike thought. Ruining a perfectly good parental lecture with big, wet, doe eyes. "Because one day he'll be bigger 'en you," he snarked, causing her to giggle just a bit. "And because he's your blood. When it comes down to it, that's what's most important."
Emma looked at him, her eyes becoming ageless once again. Her face reasonable. "OK," she replied softly. "But please tell him not to take Bunny anymore."
"Right," Spike answered, setting her down. "Now, think you've got dishes to do." He patted her shoulder and she sulked out the door.
"Think she'll listen?" Buffy asked as William began to calm against her, his little blond head lolling against her shoulder.
Spike chuckled. "Bets on about an hour."
"Fun," Buffy snarked, stroking the little boy's hair.
"And you," Spike commented, loosing William and taking him from Buffy. "Gotta learn to stand up for yourself. Can't let the girls get the better of you."
Buffy giggled. "Oh yeah. Great role model there."
Spike smirked over at his love.
"Daddy, she push me," the boy said softly.
"You know what you do then?" Spike asked. Buffy quirked an eyebrow, waiting.
"Push back?" William questioned, wide eyed.
"No!" Both Buffy and Spike answered in unison.
"You stand up, brush yourself off, then stalk away," Spike answered. "Give her a *mean* look. Like this." Spike glared at the boy with those piercing blue eyes and the child shuddered. "Works every time."
"She's your sister, Will," Buffy continued. "She loves you. She's just going to be tough on you sometimes. It's in the sister handbook."
"But," Spike added, setting the boy on his feet. "You're to stay out of her things, alright? You've got a room full of toys of your own. Leave hers be."
William looked up, a miniature clone of his father, down to tiny black jeans and black high tops as Doc Marten hadn't catered to the toddler market. "B'I like Bunny."
Spike sighed. "Sometimes we don't always get what we want." He looked over at Buffy. "And sometimes what we get is better."
William looked at his mother and smiled, then looked back to Spike, an enormous yawn escaping his tiny mouth. "Wanna nap?" Buffy asked, grinning at his amazing cuteness.
Instead of answering, the little boy stretched his arms skyward, waiting to be picked up. "With ya kid," she uttered, yawning herself. "If we go lay down, do you have Miss Priss?"
Spike nodded, kissing Buffy's cheek. "Bet she's just like you at that age," Spike snarked, grinning slyly. Buffy attempted a smirk, but a yawn got in the way. "Sleep well, Pet."
"Bed," she muttered, padding into the hall, baby clutched to her hip.
*****
Falling, really. Like Alice through the rabbit hole. Except with scores of dancing silver pixies. Or something of that nature. Beautiful, really, if it weren't for not knowing why or when or how. And for that feeling of being alone in it all.
"Will?" A pat on the back of the shoulder woke him. He shook sleep from his head, craning his neck to look around.
"Hmmm? What?" He looked around. A room full of books. A round oak table. His head buried between an American Lit textbook and Mc Nally's guide to the Occult. A journal of what he recognized as his own writing lying in between.
"Dozed off for a moment," the kind, even voice said.
William looked at the man, disconcerted. "Uncle Rupert?"
Giles laughed. He was older now, graying, but his eyes still danced underneath thicker glasses. "You alright, Will? Difficult day in class?"
William looked at the books below him, then his hands, and his conservative button down shirt. His voice cracked as he spoke. The sign of boy becoming man. "Where's mum?"
"In the training room with your father," Giles answered. He paused, removing his glasses, swiping them on his shirttail. "Will, I know you've been of great help to Cyrus and I with research. But you're thirteen now. I think you might benefit from a spot of training with your parents. Emma wasn't fond of the idea either, but it could prove to.."
"I've no use for such things," William interrupted, pushing his own glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The barbarian tactics are best left to those possessed with supernatural strength."
"Emma has no strength in comparison to your parents. Less than you, physically," Giles retorted. "But she has learned to defend herself. It's the world in which we live, William."
"I'm much more suited to this," the teen answered, gesturing at his books. "And Emma has proved several hundred times over that she is no ordinary teenager. She needs no physical strength to accomplish her mission."
Giles sighed. "Perhaps you're right. And we do value your assistance here and respect your desire to write. But she is your sister. And there will come a time when she will need..."
"My parents are her protectors," William cut in. "I want to help her, but I am more of a liability than an asset in battle."
"William, it doesn't have to be that way," Giles commented, thinking back to William's one attempt to defend his sister in a far less sinister environment. School. And coming home tattered and bloodied, broken glasses and shattered pride driving him back into his journal. "Even without your parents' strength or your sister's power, you can learn to be of service in the field of battle. Look at me. I've no particular physical prowess. Far less than you have inherited just by being the child of two supernatural people. And your Uncle Xander..."
"I'm of more use here," William sighed, flopping his head down on the open occult text, sandy brown hair falling into his eyes. As his face buried in the pages, the door swung open with a jingle, garnering his attention.
The girl strode through the door, all legs and blonde waves and startling blue eyes as deep as the sea. An unearthly grace all around her like a halo. "Hey, Uncle Giles."
"Hello, Emma," Giles answered, grinning and kissing her cheek.
"Will," she grinned, throwing her arms around him from behind the chair. He growled, but there were few things more dear to him than her attention. Many a poem had been written about the sweetness of his sister. "Where's daddy?" She asked, letting him loose.
"Beating up mum," Will snarked, turning his attention back to the books.
Emma laughed and the sound was deep and rich and lyrical. "Doubt that. Either she's got him pinned to a wall or they're all kissy-kissy and pretending like they're training."
Giles blushed. Emma understood her parents better than most. "You may think to knock before you set off.."
"Always," Emma laughed, rolling her eyes. "I *so* don't need to see that." She turned her attention back to her brother. "Will, wanna come? You can watch me try and kick dad and he'll climb up the wall to get away. Kinda cool."
"Pass," William answered, smiling at her. "Maybe next time."
"Suit yourself," she answered, striding off towards the training room door. William sighed, letting his head fall back into his arms.
"Tired," he mumbled, as the world became a hazy shade of grey.
*****
The lights were fast and furious this time. Buzzing like ecstatic fireflies all around him. The tumble to the bottom was rough, as if he slammed to the ground rather than thudding gently.
"William! Baby, are you alright?"
His eyes flickered open, a horrid buzzing in the back of his skull. The ground shook and tumbled underneath of them, spewing molten lava onto the macadam. "Mum?"
"Baby, run!" She pleaded, kissing his cheek. "Please run. I love you." Her hand cupped his face, her green eyes catching his. She was so beautiful. As beautiful now as she had been eighteen years earlier when he had first stared up into her eyes.
"Mum?" He gasped, panic in his voice.
Her tears fell, carving silver rivers down her cheeks. "Run," she whispered, letting go of his face and bolting up, running.
William tried to scramble to his feet, nearly crab walking down the alley, the Earth bucking and yawning beneath him. His eyes were hazy. His glasses gone. But he saw a light that glowed with more beauty than he could ever imagine. Than he ever could have penned into words.
"Emma?" He gasped.
She floated above the Earth, sheathed in white light. Her eyes lowered to him and tears caught in her gaze. She didn't speak. William wasn't sure that she could. But her hand raised and a ball of white light grew, flying from her towards him, surrounding him in her light.
He could hear her voice in his head. "It's me they want. You will be safe here, William."
Then nothing.
William was paralyzed, surrounded in the globe of light, somehow separated from the world around him. He watched her hover, glowing, peaceful. Their mum, sword in hand, battling in front of her. Their father behind. The pair circling like lions protecting their cub.
He could hear the faint snicker-snack of blades as they battled. The flash of bared teeth. The glint of his father's demon eyes. Rarely had Spike shown them his darker nature, but as he fought, moving around Emma in a dance with his lover, Spike's eyes glowed golden, his fangs dipping at the corners of his mouth.
William punched the ball, driven to them, but trapped. The demons were but shadows and darkness. How does one kill the darkness? They rose and fell around them like a dark tide, herding the three towards the opening in the Earth. The place where Hell met their world. They were after Emma. Trying to wrap around her. Destroy her light. Pull her in.
His parents, warriors of legends, would never let that happen. Not as long as either of them lived.
William's eyes shot nervously around. It wasn't until then he noticed them. All of them. Wounded. Dead. Everywhere. Uncle Rupert. Aunt Willow. Tara... Oh, God. Why were they here? "No!" He screamed on deaf ears, the sound bouncing and echoing in the bubble.
A shadow crept behind his mother, lapping up to Emma like a dark flame. Buffy spun, lashing out at it with her sword and it grabbed her. Spike lunged towards his love as she began to disappear into the Earth.
"Buffy, no! Please, no!" He could hear his father's screams as she sunk into blackness.
Emma's tears fell. Hopeless and helpless. Watching Spike chase Buffy, trying to pull her from oblivion, hanging onto her hand as if it was all there was left in the world. The shadows took the opening and circled Emma, darkness moving to overcome her light.
His sister's face. All beauty and dignity and grace. She stared at William, locking eyes. Spike turned his head and saw the darkness devouring his little girl. Torn between pulling Buffy from the ground. Fighting the battle to save Emma.
Spike looked at his lover's face. She said something wordlessly. He let go of her hand. No! Don't let her go! William screamed in his mind. Gone.
Like that, his mother was gone.
Spike fought his way up, tears streaming, throwing himself at the darkness in a tornado of rage and grief. Cutting through the shadows to loose his daughter. He turned, locking eyes with William and at that moment, William knew. Knew he could have helped. Knew that his father loved him. Knew that there was nothing he could do.
William watched them die. The darkness devouring them both, inch by inch. Spike grappling, fighting, falling for her. To save her. Until the shadows overcame him.
And Emma's light. All that was there was the glow and her eyes. And her tears.
And then darkness.
All that was left was him.
To be contd.