Choosing

Yesterday the odds were stacked in favour of my expectations.
Lying above the rest
Never falling from the nest
Tuesday came and went and now I'm in a little situation
Maybe its for the best
I can live alone I guess.
Maybe' by Alison Krauss.

Spike, what is this?

I thought you could tell me.

As she looked around, gauging her environment, she felt the pressure on her disappear. She absently moved tired limbs as she worked out that yes' she was still in the forest, and yes' she was still alive, and no' Spike's lips weren't moving as he spoke to her. The Slayer almost felt as if she was in a giant white Spider, with its purple legs whipping around her just out of reach likes those vines in gardening programs. Constant movement and constant growth. Except for as soon as they reached far enough away they'd snap back and begin their journey again. Buffy moved her head to look across at Spike, eyes wide and mental voice shaking with a less-than-brave quality.

What could I tell you about this?

Its your beast Slayer. Didn't your Watcher tell you about any of this?

Buffy shook her head, her lips parted in fear-filled-wonder. When she realised that Spike must not have caught the movement she expanded her answer.

No. And then, Well, maybe.

If it wasn't impossible Buffy would have guessed that the slight noise in her head was a mental sigh from Spike. If she could hear it did that mean she could hear all of his thoughts or did he just want her to know that he was annoyed with her. And if she could hear all of his thoughts, could he hear all of hers?

What exactly did the Watcher tell you?

I told you. Allegorical being. Kills its prey by making them emotionally weak and therefore closer to its realm. Or does that make him more real? Well, it was one of those two.

Another sigh. The Vampire must really think that she's stupid. But it wasn't every day that you woke up encased in a bubble of white mist, pinned to a tree, talking telepathically with a creature you loath.

That's exactly what it said.

It? You talked to it?

Yeah. Well... It talked to me. It being all evil and me being stuck here like a bug to a card. He said that he plans to make us mad and then steal our souls. You think someone should tell him Vampire's don't have souls?

How is he going to make us mad? He hasn't exactly been proactive with the torture. Unless being stuck here for eternity with only you to talk to is my punishment. In which case... He's good.

Reach out. And touch one of those tendril things.

What?

Spike pointed to one of the vines and Buffy turned her head to stare at it. As if aware of her attention the purpled-vine swayed in mid-air, just inches from her shoulder invitingly.

You tell me to touch something and I just do it? Yeah, right, like that's going to happen, ever.

Just do it, Slayer.

It was Buffy's turn to sigh mentally, and she took great care that she projected it towards Spike. The blonde pest thought that he could just order her to do something and she'd do it. He must be delusional. Otherwise he wouldn't have expected her to just blindly follow his orders. Perhaps he was already mad. But on him it didn't look must different. Or sound it. A rational voice in her mind, hers not Spikes, pointed out that he had obviously touched one of them and he was still alive. Or undead. Whatever.

Buffy twisted her hand upwards, offering it out to the vine. The white-purple light curled down and seemed to tentatively wrap itself around first her fingers, then her palm and knuckles, then her wrist. It never touched her skin and the shyness of its movements was almost sweet. She turned her head to smirk and Spike and ask exactly what she was supposed to be seeing, when vine turned vice and squeezed--

--You little bitch I'm going to..--Get off! What do I do! What do I do?!--Stop thinking. Just be--Be what?--Hands grabbing at her shoulders and pushing her hair from her neck. Her own heart beating--It thrust right through her side, blood wept over her clothes--I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop--You're the one that sets me free! If you hadn't come, I couldn't go. Think about that!--Teeth scraping her neck--

--tightly. The pain was intense and seemed to spread through her mind, down her neck and paralise her body steadily. She desperately tried to pull her hand away but the tendril had an iron grip on her.

No. Let GO of me--

--Putrid smell, wafting over her nose and causing it to wrinkle--Hacking and hacking and still it wouldn't die--Tyler was kissing someone else?--They smiled and she smiled back, friends--Punctureing her throat, draining out--

--PLEASE. LET GO.

A hand fixed on her free arm and forcibly pulled her away from the vine around her hand. As soon as it felt its grip slipping the tendril dissolved harmlessly. Slowly the numbing pain melted away, leaving only the throbbing to remind her it had been there. It took Buffy a few moments to remember where she was, and even who she was. Once the purple band had closed around her skin she had suddenly been shot back into the past, a thousand different images from when she was a child, up until this point. Not imposing any kind of linear order, just memories scattered in front of her eyes so lifelike that she could almost imagine that she had been in those places again.

When the hand disappeared from her arm she turned her head painfully to look at Spike. He'd pulled her out of it, true, but he'd also tricked her into it. She wanted to shout and yell at him, and possibly stake as well. But all she could manage were questions.

What was that?

You felt... memories? Well, not felt, relived? It was the same for me... It a million places at once, not sure who or where you are. I didn't know it could trap you like that though.

He sounded like he was speaking the truth, so Buffy decided not to beat on him too bad. Instead she repeated her question

But, what was that?

That was how he makes people mad.

***

Willow couldn't help feeling bored. She'd chanted the same incantation at least fifty times and after the initial delight of the talisman before her lighting up nothing else had happened. Surely Buffy and Spike had slain their beast already and were heading back. She glanced across at Oz who seemed to be getting bored himself, curled up in a chair by the side of the Library with an open book clutched to his chest and a far-away expression on his face. As Willow came to the end of incantation number fifty-one she stopped.

Oz questioned, his voice momentarily hoarse from lack of use.

If they were going to kill it then they've killed it by now. I want to give the other spell a try.

That seemed to wake Oz up, and in two moments he had leapt from his chair and strode over to where Willow was perched.

You heard. We've helped Buffy, now we've got to help the others.

Will, the way we help the others is by helping Buffy. She kills the first beast and then goes to the mansion to help them out. You can't just stop chanting like that! She could be dying right now!

The spell won't take long, and once its done I can go back to chanting the boring-mantra-material spell.

Oz walked over to his girlfriend and planted a long kiss on her lips. She responded, blushing as she did, her arms curling up over his shoulders and her fingers linking at the back of his neck. Gently he pulled away from her, and it was as if by their lips touching they had started and solved a conversation before even bringing it up.

Willow turned back to the talisman and sighed, taking some deep breaths before beginning chant number fifty-two. Oz, at her side, smiled before returning to his seat unaware that his problem-solving kiss had not stopped Willow from deciding that after chant seventy she was doing the soul-spell, with or without him.

***

The group huddled tightly together as they walked around each corner. Xander had stopped making his stupid jokes about two passages back, which was a double-edged blessing. The Vampires may not hear them coming, but they might catch the group all too terrified to move. When Xander stopped joking it was either a sign that he was comfortable or that he was too scared even to speak. And the former was not likely.

You think we should have gotten the bleached-wonder to draw us a map? Xander asked, finally relieving some of the group's tension.

I don't trust him. Besides, I think I can find my way to their... lair.

Uh, Giles, this whole thing is their lair. Shouldn't you say their HQ or something?

If I was in one of those bloody American--

Insisted Kendra, drawing them all into silence.

At the end of the passageway they had just entered there were lights and voices bounced off the stone walls towards them. Kendra waved a hand at the three behind her, signalling for them to stay put, before creeping forward. Being a Vampire Slayer she was more likely to sense a Vampire coming than any of them. Her eyes darted about the darkened passage so much so that she could almost feel her pupil's contract as the light grew. She found that there was no door into the light filled room, simply an empty entrance way. Inside was the unmistakable statue of Acathla, surrounded by eager Vampires.

Kendra turned to wave her party forward only to come face-to-face with a Vampire. She glanced past him even as she fell into fighting stance to see another ten Vampires behind the other three. With a silence that was almost holy they ushered the four intruders forward and into the brightly lit room. Kendra recognised none of the demon faces that stared at her as she was escorted past them. She did however count the numbers and guessed that there was about twenty-two Vampires, twenty-four with Angelus and Drusilla. The Slayer found herself brought to a stop in front of the hideous stone-demon whose lips were parted in readiness to end all life. She eyed it suspiciously for a moment as if half expecting it to move. It didn't. What did move were the two Vampires behind it, who slowly walked out in front of her. One was in a shocking crimson dress, which she hoped was the natural colour of the material, with black lace running all across its length, the other... there was no romantic way to put it, the other stood with blood dripping from his mouth and onto a plum coloured shirt, leather trousers encased his lower half and boots his feet.

Drusilla, Angelus. Kendra noted politely, barely registering the slide from demon to human face that both Vampires went through. Angelus, instead of sporting his usual perverse smile, or scathing smirk, looked a little puzzled.

You're not Buffy.

***

Spike stared over at the Slayer with annoyance. He wouldn't have minded a little bit of blame from her for telling her to touch the tendrils, and indeed he had felt... guilty?... when she'd started screaming and trying to escape. Its why he'd helped her to do just that. But after almost half an hour of her telling him that it was all his fault for a variety of reasons. It was getting annoying.

Shut up!

Shut up?! Shut up?! I could have gone insane and you tell me to shut up?! What's next? Chill out dude? Have a cuppa tea?

Could have, but you didn't. Can we just leave it at that?

She seemed to take a mental breath to start her rant again, but then think better of it. Instead she just scowled at him expectantly.

Thank you, Slayer, much as I hate to be the nucleus to this amoeba, wouldn't we be better trying to get out than arguing.

And how do you suggest we do that?

Is it glowing yet?

The Slayer twisted to look at the talisman and Spike sighed. He truly wondered how this girl defeated him every time they fought. After a second she looked up and shook her head.

Great. I thought you said the redhead was handling it.

She will be.

I guess we'll just have to wait until she does.

After a moment of mental stalemate the girl's curiosity seemed to get the better of her, hadn't she ever heard the one about the cat? She started off by asking,

...Do you get them too?

What?

The memories, when you touch the purple stuff..?

Already told you I did.

But, human memories, or Vampire ones?

All of em.

Are they... painful?

Well, yeah. You saw.

I mean, is it painful to see what you were before...?

Not really. He answered honestly. Didn't much like who I was. He knew what she was getting at though, and after a moment decided to press it. You feel tempted to look at them, don't you?

What? No.

Look back at the days before Vampires? When you were just a little kid? Who wouldn't want to see that again..? But you can't. Not if you want to stay sane.

I know that. Her voice was scornful, in that way that showed he had guessed right. As he watched her he saw her expression softening.

Without putting too much thought into it Spike pushed his hand through into the Slayer's bubble of white. Over the past few moments of conversation it had occurred to Spike that they overanalysed things too much. And then ended up doing whatever they wanted anyway. And so this time he did it. Made his choice. A choice that he wasn't even aware that he had to make until recently. Between the possibility of love and the demon world. He didn't know if it was the right decision, but he chose.

Spike's hand wrapped around the Slayer's smaller one nervously. At first in a stiff hold, and then fingers wove together instinctively. When he glanced at Buffy she was staring straight ahead, her expression blank. Whether she did not notice or did not care Spike could not tell. But she did not pull her hand away. Instead she simply said, after a moment, with a emotion that bordered on wistful in her voice,

I hope Willow hurries up.

***

It had been fifteen minutes since Willow had convinced Oz into helping her with the soul spell and finally everything was set out properly. Her boyfriend seemed particularly eager to hurry, but she was not so worried. She knew that Buffy could handle herself. And besides, what could this immaterial being do to her anyway, really?

Is that it? Are we ready? Oz asked quickly.

Willow confirmed, already resettling herself back onto the table.

Its a short spell, right?

Uh huh. Short as they come. Chant, herbs, chant, Latin, soul. Simple.

Oz nodded, though he didn't look the slightest bit more relaxed. He would be glad when they finished it and got back onto the spell they were actually meant to be doing. He fingered the pages of an old book that he was supposed to be reading. Latin. It shouldn't be that hard. Shouldn't. A nod from Willow indicated that he should start, and so he did, with one hand wafting around a handful of smouldering incense.

Quod perditum est, invenietur.

Not dead nor not of the living. Spirits of the interregnum I call...

(Author's Note: So its been a slightly boring week. Lots of work. No play or fanfic time. Makes a girl glad that she has a plan. (Evil things do have plans afterall). Just a couple more chapters to go, thanks for the reviews everyone.)