Beyond the Darkness
Chapter Three
By Nichole (Neko-chan) Johnson
Rating: PG or TV 14
Pairings: B/S
Disclaimer: All BtVS characters and such are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy (bless that little paper monster…). The Red Bull, as well as the legend of the unicorns derives from an old cartoon movie The Last Unicorn based on the story by Peter S. Beagle, and is not mine, albeit being altered to fit this story. The song "The Weakness In Me" is by Joan Armatrading (off of the 10 Things I Hate About You soundtrack.)
Spoilers: Takes place during Season 5, immediately after "The Body"
Author's Notes: Sometimes, the characters may fall into an OOC trap, but please bear with me—this was my first attempt at Buffy fanfiction, after all. I did as much research of former seasons, characters, backgrounds, etc. as I could, but I'm sure there will be mistakes, such as the mistakes in the description of Spike's crypt. I hope though, that you can ignore such mistakes and enjoy the story on its own. ^_^
Side Notes: Thanks goes to kidd (kid133) for pointing out the song credit mix-up that was formerly in this chapter. I apologize for any confusion that may have been caused by that; as some of you may have noticed, this has been rectified. Thanks again, kidd!
* * * * *
Chapter Three
Feeling guilty, worried
Waking from tormented sleep
This old love has me bound
But the new love cuts deep
"So…let me get this straight," drawled Xander, leaning forward with curiosity. "You and…Spike…got attacked by some crazy, wind-devil thing in the cemetery?" Clearly puzzled, he leaned back again.
"I don't get it. Why were you in the cemetery with Spike?"
Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation and gave her best friend a firm glare. As if in need of a change of scenery, the available members of the Scooby Gang had been gathered in the Summers' living room for a semi-emergency meeting, rather than get together at the Magic Box. Giles had insisted, stating that he was trying to cut down on the clutter of books in his store, but Buffy had assumed it was just a cover to keep her and Dawn at home. Especially Dawn.
She chanced a glance across the room at her younger sister. The heart-broken fourteen-year-old had remained as silent as ever all day, perched comfortably on the back of the couch and staring with dull eyes out the window at the hazy gray sky. It had been raining the entire day, as if sympathizing with the young girl's mourning; a heavy, gray mist that spattered the windows with beads of perspiration, completely masking the sun from view.
Frowning inwardly at her sister's silence, Buffy turned back to Xander with a stern glance. "Xander, this is serious."
The messy-haired young man looked at her with mock insult. "I am being serious. I mean, it's Spike, for crying out loud! I thought you told me before that that's just…creepy?"
The petite blonde looked just a bit exasperated. She really didn't need her friends being difficult about this right now. They had a new enemy that they knew nothing about and meanwhile Glory was still waiting in the wings to snatch up the Key. A Key that was currently Buffy's silently suffering kid sister, who needed her big sister's shoulder to cry on right now, not some crazy hellgod gunning for her.
Buffy sighed heavily—such was the life of the Slayer. But sometimes she just wished she could have a normal life. Not to mention normal love interests.
"Yeah, well that 'creepy' vamp saved my life last night, so let's just forget about that part of it for now and get to the important part of my story." She gritted her teeth tightly to keep from commenting further; she just wasn't in the mood right now. Her thoughts briefly flashed to early that morning.
"Buffy?" She was shaken gently from a light sleep, momentarily unaware of her surroundings. Then Spike shook her again lightly, her eyes springing open in recognition at the voice.
"Spike?" she muttered in surprise, still drunk with fatigue. He shushed her gently, indicating the door of her house with his head.
"Careful. Don't wanna' wake your sis, now."
She sighed, exhausted, wishing she could just drift off to sleep again. "Where are we?" she murmured, unconsciously snuggling further against his chest.
"Your house, luv. You fell asleep."
She 'umm-hmm'ed absent-mindedly, feeling herself falling back into sleep. "…sleep…good…"
Spike shifted awkwardly, nonetheless enjoying her snuggling up against him, however. "Right, luv…" There was the briefest pause. "Um, Buffy…You've got to invite me in, first."
"Hmm?"
"Remember? You uninvited me."
She was silent for a moment and he was afraid she had fallen asleep. But after a moment, she nodded drowsily in remembrance. "Oh, yeah…"
She fell silent again and he shook her gently. "Uh, pet, I'm in a bit of a hurry with the sun about to come up 'n all…"
Still she was silent. Finally, eyes still closed as if in sleep, she smiled lightly. "Spike, you can come in…" she murmured drowsily. Then, burying her face against his chest, she fell back to sleep.
She had re-invited him. Just after getting Willow to put an de-invite spell on the house. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a problem. But she hoped to death that Willow wouldn't find out; she just might flip.
Why do you come here,
When you know I've got troubles enough
Why do you call me,
When you know I can't answer the phone
'Make me lie—
I don't want to!
Make someone else some kind of love-goin' fool"Right. We need to figure out what this wind thing is and what it wants," Willow was speaking up helpfully at the moment, seated comfortably on the couch next to Tara.
Xander was relentless. "Yeah, but—"
"Sorry, Xand. No 'butts' in this house," teased Buffy firmly, getting up from her seat. "We need to stick to priorities right now, not matters of hurt male pride."
"Hey, Spike hardly hurts my male pride!" spoke up Xander in defense, "This is a matter of my over-protective male dominance complex and simply trying to keep my ladies safe."
Tara smiled thinly from the couch. "Isn't that the same as male pride?"
Buffy nodded smugly. "Right. And now I am going to the kitchen to get us some munchies," she pronounced, closing the matter and heading for the kitchen. "I'll be right back."
Still not ready to back down, Xander turned to shout after her, "Yeah, well, you better explain when you get back…yeah." Gaining no answer from the blonde, he frowned irritably. Willow patted his hand comfortingly.
Buffy smiled lightly to herself, shaking her head gently at Xander's overprotectiveness. She was the Slayer, she kicked vampire and evil butt everyday and saved the world all the time, but her friend never ceased to feel the need to protect her from the evils of the male population time and time again. Not that she didn't appreciate his concern. In fact, often they were quite well placed, and she would have done good a number of times to listen. But Buffy was far too stubborn for that.
You make me stay,
When I should not
Are you so strong,
Or is all the weakness in me?She was so engrossed in her thoughts that it took her a moment to notice the figure seated rather casually on the edge of her kitchen counter.
"Spike!" she squeaked, taken aback.
The vampire grinned dashingly. "Sleep well, luv?"
She nodded absently, observing him curiously. Something was different. Unable to keep her eyes from wandering appreciatively over his lithe form, she realized that it was his clothing that had taken her aback. He had gone back to the more casual look he had begun to show shortly before Drusilla's untimely return. Dressed in a long-sleeve gray knit top and fatigue-green khakis, he came off far less the dark, dangerous vampire and more like the "rebellious guy next door". Feeling the feverish feeling in her limbs, she decided she liked the look.
"Uh, what are you doing here?" she spoke up, tearing her eyes away from her visual devouring to look him in the eyes.
Aware of her gaze, Spike grinned at her knowingly, blue eyes sparkling. "It was raining out so I decided to check up on you. You were out like a lamp as soon as I got you in this morning so I didn't exactly get to see how you were."
"I'm fine. Thanks," she answered shortly, going stiffly to the fridge and retrieving the juice pitcher and a block of cheese. Setting the items on the opposite counter, she rummaged through the cupboards for the cutting board and some crackers and grabbed a knife from the knife block.
Spike nodded, eyes trailing appreciatively over her petite form which was dressed in a simple long-sleeve brown shirt with a teasing neckline and tight-fitting tan slacks. "That's good, luv. Hope Dawn's well. Little Bit hasn't talked to me since…well, since last week, let's just say."
Her back to him, Buffy began to cut the block into slices, placing them on crackers on a plate. "She's taking Mom's death terribly. I think she thinks…" She paused, the words catching heavily in her throat.
Spike sensed her hesitance. "You think she believes you won't love her anymore, am I right?"
She turned to look at him sharply, surprised he knew exactly what she had been trying to say. She nodded, turning back to her cutting. "Right. I'm just worried she's going to do something stupid like cutting herself again…but worse." She pressed down roughly with the knife, her frustration evident in her stance.
Sliding down off the counter, Spike came over to stand behind her. "It's not hard, Buffy. Just let her know you still love her."
She tensed, feeling him so close. "It's not that easy, Spike," she muttered sharply, her cutting becoming more furious. "She's worried I don't care about her anymore because she's just some key. She thinks she's not real and that's why I don't love her." She spun to look at him suddenly, and he could see she was fighting tears. "But she is real, Spike. She is!"
He patted her shoulder soothingly, features soft. "Of course she is, luv. But she's got to learn that for herself."
Buffy stared at him silently, fighting the urge to let him take her in his arms, to cry in his embrace. She wanted him to hold her so bad. Everything was such a mess—if only he could just hold her. But she knew she couldn't let herself indulge in such fantasies. The consequences of such an affair would most likely be far worse than what she was dealing with now.
Spinning back around so to quell her longing, she began to cut again furiously. "Are you still going to help with this cyclone thing or was last night just a one-time deal?" she spoke up stiffly, changing the subject.
She felt him shift slightly, leaning back against the countertop lazily. "Ah, about helping, pet…"
Buffy huffed in annoyance. "Yeah. Just like I thought, Spike."
He shook his head accusingly, cutting her off before she could begin ragging on him further. "Now hold on a sec, you didn't let me finish again." He hopped back up on the counter, leaning his arms comfortably on his knees. "What I was tryin' to say, was I don't think the rest of the Scoobies should know about this."
Pausing in surprise, the petite Slayer turned to look at him curiously. "You're going to help? Wait, why shouldn't the others know?"
Spike laughed shortly, but it held no humor. "Have you seen what they think of me? I think they'd sooner take a stake to my heart than let me help 'em!" He shook his head emphatically. "Nope, I work with you secretly, Slayer. I'd prefer to live out my eternal life a bit longer, if I can."
Buffy studied him curiously, knife paused mid-cut. "You really want to help, don't you?" she asked softly, feeling a newfound amazement at the change in him.
The change in him. I've changed, too, Slayer. He really had changed, hadn't he? The clothes, the mellowed-out attitude, and now the offer to help. She could almost completely dismiss all the times he had killed and tried to kill her and her friends.
Must have dismissed that stuff if you want him so much, hissed her thoughts angrily. She ignored them, searching the vampire's dark blue eyes, staring back at her with open honesty.
He blinked at her, surprised. "'Course I want to help! That cyclone bugger almost bloody did you in! What, did you honestly think I'd just sit idly by and let yourself get killed, pet?" He smiled at her with an amazing amount of tenderness. "That was supposed to be my job, and bloody hell, no one's gonna' get it now…"
Buffy was frozen with shock momentarily, feeling her desire for him begin to well within her. Turning away hastily, she shakily resumed her cutting, not really seeing what she was doing. Almost immediately, the knife slipped, leaving a clean slice across the palm of her hand. She yelped in surprise, tearing her hand away as the blood began to well in fat, crimson beads along the cut.
"Shit…" she muttered, grabbing for some paper towel to stop the bleeding.
Immediately Spike captured her wrist gently, hopping off the counter to come up behind her. "No, here, luv, I've got it." Her heart leapt nervously in her throat as he turned her about, bringing her heavily bleeding hand to his lips with a sensual tenderness that sent a tingle through her spine.
She had expected him to vamp out on her and start feeding, but instead he gently licked away the blood with tentative slowness, his cool tongue easing the sting of the cut and sending a wave of desire through her unlike anything she had felt before. She found she was holding her breath, and she gulped heavily, watching him lapping up the blood in her hand with a sensuality that surprised her.
Sensing her nervousness, he glanced up at her silently, eyes dark with pleasure. He could feel her heart beating crazily, her blood beginning to pulse through his veins as if she were physically a part of him. Despite the demon's initial urge to emerge and feed, he fought it down with hardly a thought, so intent on merely her warmth and scent that his humanly desires all but drowned the bloodlust out with a lust of its own. It was intoxicating, his desire nearly overcoming him with the aphrodisiac power her blood held, and he growled deep in his chest with controlled ecstasy. He had tasted a Slayer's blood before, had experienced the powerful effect it had on his body and senses, but never in such a personal way. And never Buffy's. If the Chinese Slayer's blood had been intoxicating, Buffy's was mind-numbing. He had never wanted her so badly as he did right now, and he could sense she was similarly excited by the intensity of her gaze on him.
He could feel the flow of blood to the cut beginning to fade, and Buffy was beginning to look slightly dizzy from loss of blood. Still gazing at her deeply, he moved his lips gently up her wrist, kissing the soft skin with unconcealed longing. Closing her eyes with pleasure, the Slayer gasped with a sharp intake of breath. Encouraged by her reaction, he brought his lips higher, pulling her against him by the wrist, pinning her against the counter with his body as he continued to kiss her wrist with increasing fervency.
"Buffy?" came Willow's voice suddenly, startling them both out of their guilty indulgence. Footsteps could be heard approaching slowly, and they both looked sharply at one another, panic in their eyes.
"Hide!" hissed Buffy urgently, pushing him towards the far counter. Needing no motivation, Spike easily leapt across the counter, ducking once he was behind it for cover.
"Buffy?" quipped Willow again, coming into the kitchen. She looked at Buffy, slightly concerned. "Everything okay in here? Do you need help?"
Leaning up against the counter with forced casualness, Buffy smiled shakily, trying to calm the fever raging within her. "Uh, no! No, I'm almost done."
The redhead still looked somewhat unconvinced. "You sure?"
"Yeah," insisted Buffy cheerfully, nodding fervently. She moved away from the counter, ushering Willow towards the door with careless flippancy. "You just go tell the others I'll be out with munchies in a few minutes, 'kay?"
"Alright…" Throwing her best friend an odd look, Willow went back out into the living room obediently, wondering what was up with Buffy. It must be the stress, she thought pityingly. She would have to ask her about it later.
Craning her head to make sure she had gone, Buffy turned back to the vampire, who was leaning casually against the kitchen counter once again. "That…was close," she said, breathing a long sigh of relief.
Spike nodded in agreement, stealing a slice of cheese from the counter and popping it lazily in his mouth. "Tonight," he said, looking serious, "I assume you'll be patrolling again, luv?"
Glancing out the window at the mist-like rain, Buffy made a face. "Unfortunately…"
Advancing on her with predatory grace, he fixed her with intense blue eyes. "Right then. I'll meet up with you at that marble pillar from last night and we'll patrol together. See if we can get anything on this 'new evil'."
She gulped, her desire flaring anew. "Uh…patrol…right."
He smiled at her devilishly, advancing even further. "Didn't think I'd actually do the book thing again, pet, did you? Besides, I don't think your Watcher'd like that much. Protective old git." Pressing her back against the counter, he put his lips close to her ear. "Not that I blame him."
She shivered, unconsciously pressing herself against him. Angel and Riley had always been rather tall, pleasantly built men, but not Spike. Leaner, average height…whereas Angel and Riley had seemed casually at ease in their height and power, the blonde vampire was firmly built—pure coiled muscle.
"No…can't blame him…" Her blood was roaring in her ears, feeling him so cool and enticing, pressing against her with so much longing. Licking her lips, she looked up and met his eyes, dark with desire. She couldn't stand it anymore.
"Spike…"
He needed no further encouragement, grabbing her tightly in his arms and kissing her violently. Immediately the familiar thrill shot through them both, increasing their passion. She moaned softly against his mouth, her hands gliding across his shoulder blades, and he growled low in his throat in response, pressing her harder against the counter. Both drank hungrily of each other, tasting each other's lust and passion on their lips and tongue—cold on hot and hot on cold—as they shed their uncertainties for one brief moment.
Finally knowing she had to stop before things went out of control, Buffy pushed him back gently, pulling them both away from the counter. "You have to go," she gasped against his lips, unable to tear her mouth away despite her words.
Reluctantly beginning to pull himself away, Spike nodded. "Right, luv. Go…" he murmured.
Breathing heavily, both paused momentarily in thought. Then, leaning into him, Buffy gave him one last firm kiss and pulled away reluctantly. "I'll meet you at the marble pillar." She turned away hastily before her desire could overcome her again. "Now, you have to go. Before anyone sees you."
Gathering his wits, he nodded tightly, retrieving his leather duster from the kitchen table. "I'll be there. Just make sure you're there." With that, he slipped silently out into the dark, rainy day.
Closing her eyes reflectively, Buffy put a steadying hand out on the countertop. "Oh, I'll be there. I'll definitely be there…" she whispered softly, licking his taste from her lips.
Why do you come here,
And pretend to be just passin' by?
But I mean to see you…
And I mean to hold you…tightly.
Xander's voice hailed her from the living room. "Hey, Buff, are we gonna' get any snacks here?" She could hear Willow reprimand him sharply.
Smiling to herself in amusement, Buffy grabbed the snack stuff and headed out to the living room. "Alright, Mr. Antsy-Pants, I'm coming!"
She didn't even notice the smear of blood she left behind on the counter.
* * *
Several hours later, full of cheese and crackers washed down with juice and having decided they'd gotten all the dirt they were going to get out of Buffy for now, the three Slayarettes made their good-byes and parted. Giving the petite Slayer a parting, frustrated glance, Xander hopped down the front-stoop, a polite yet silently concerned Willow and Tara following close behind with quick hugs and parting reminders. Buffy closed the door softly, releasing a long, weary sigh in lee of the empty silence that remained.
"Two hours until patrol," she muttered absent-mindedly to herself, confirming her assumption with a glance at the hall clock. Glancing pensively out the living room window at the hazy shroud of rain suspended heavily on the lawn, she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. Wind-devil, Glory, Dawn—the Key, Spike, Mom…She swung her arms gently, loosening tired muscles as she walked towards the kitchen. Glory, wind-devil, Dawn, Mom, Spike, patrol…patrol, patrol…rain, rain, rain. Sighing again with further weariness, she stopped in the doorway, staring gently at her most important thought for the moment.
Dawn.
Fiery red wind spirits and narcissistic hellgods aside, it was long past the time for the big, heartfelt sister-to-sister talk. That big moment between two sisters, when all else is put aside—age, privilege, tastes, and disagreements—and true bonding is reached. Buffy's stomach did a sour twist. This talk should have been about men. It should have been about being a woman, having your first period, or losing your virginity.
It shouldn't have been about losing your mom.
"Dawn…" she began softly, crossing her arms uncomfortably and coming further into the room.
The teenager looked up expressionlessly from her seat at the counter, finger dancing lightly along the edge of her glass and making a low mournful tone against the rim. Her gaze seemed hollow, her eyes seemingly staring somewhere beyond Buffy's shoulder.
The blonde's heart ached painfully. This wasn't right, just wasn't fair. It had taken so much love, so much care, and so much devotion, to finally make her feel as if she belonged here after the ordeal of her birthday—as Dawn, with her big sister, Buffy, and her loving mother, Joyce. Not as a Key, but as a person. And now one of her links had been taken away. How could merely Buffy and her half-obligated devotion keep her feeling loved?
She pursed her lips, carefully choosing her words. "You haven't said anything…since last week, Dawn," she remarked softly, coming and taking a careful seat across from her at the counter.
The teenager's eyes hadn't moved from the far point on the wall. She continued to run her finger rhythmically over the rim of the glass in its dull, mournful tune, ignoring her sister's pained expression.
Her throat dry, Buffy continued softly, voice strained with worry. "Dawn…you can't just keep—"
"Is there going to be a funeral?" The girl's voice was cold, empty, still not looking at her sister. Buffy was silent momentarily, studying a hairline crack in the countertop.
"We're working on it, Dawn," she said softly, looking up again and trying to get the other to meet her gaze. "It's…hard. There's…flowers, and guests, and hymns, and the casket still hasn't been decided…" Her voice broke off hoarsely, looking down at the countertop again to collect herself. "There are so many arrangements to make. We're…I'm going to need your help. We all need your help, Dawn."
Buffy looked at her younger sister silently, wishing the other would look back. The hollowness in her eyes reflected a hollowness beginning to spread in her own heart. She had never voiced the fear to Giles or anyone but herself, but she strongly feared that her mother's death could destroy something vital in Dawn. If Dawn wasn't real and lost the desire to retain her human form, would that cause her to revert back to her original form, whatever that was? If such a thing happened, there was no way they could reverse the change.
"Let's have it next week," remarked Dawn finally in a dispassionate tone. Her finger pressed a tad bit harder against the rim of the glass, but otherwise, she stared ahead in continued emptiness. "There should be lots of flowers. Mom would have liked lots of flowers."
Buffy's eyes watered threateningly. "Dawn…"
"And she'd like a plain casket. She wouldn't want us to spend too much on her like that." There was a faint glimmer in the hollow, blue eyes. "And we should serve hot chocolate afterwards, with tiny marshmallows…just the way she liked it." Her voice was slowly cracking, wavering precariously on each word. "And Spike…Spike should come. She liked…she really did like Spike. She would have wanted him to come."
Her numb shock dissolving under the weight of so many memories, Dawn's eyes began welling with tears; spilling down her cheeks and off her nose in an angry torrent of emotion. "If she was still here they could watch Passions together, and drink hot cocoa, just like nothing had happened, like he'd never said that stuff to you and she'd never…she'd never…" The dam broken, she lapsed into heart-wrenching sobs, tearing at her face with the weight of all that bottled up pain, her screams tugging at Buffy's very soul with their complete and animalistic agony.
Pulling her into a tight embrace, Buffy joined her sister's weeping, smoothing the younger girl's hair with vicious, desperation, letting all the pain and hurt wash over her anew. She rocked the girl tightly, joining in her pain, but trying to soothe her as well.
Dawn gripped Buffy's shoulders tightly, as if afraid she would lose her as well. "It hurts, Buffy, it hurts!" she moaned painfully, squeezing her eyes shut tight against the pain. "Why did she go? Why did they have to take her from us? It's not fair!"
Buffy crooned soothingly into her hair, still rocking her softly. The pain was so biting and so deep. How could she ever soothe such a pain? It would never go away, it would haunt them forever. It could dull, it could lessen, but it would remain forever like some torn away piece in their souls, holding forever the memory and the pain in their hearts.
"I know. I know," she murmured hoarsely, unable to find any words. And so she just continued to rock her sister, silently, soothing her trembling and anguished cries with soft murmurs and caressing hands. The only way she knew how.
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TO BE CONTINUED…