Beyond the Darkness
Chapter Seven
By Nichole (Neko-chan) Johnson
Rating: PG-13 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.
Spoilers: Takes place during Season 5, immediately after "The Body"
Author's Notes: Oooh, the inebidable fight scene chapter! Finally, our "baddie" makes its appearance! I really had fun writing this chapter (though the ending was somewhat of a pain.) Since I could basically already see it all worked out in my head, (I'm crazy like that) it was just a matter of putting it all into words that would make it understandable. I hope you all will be able to envision this battle to the best of your extents as well! (It's only a small battle, but "it's still good"…)
Author's Rants: Ignore the crap-tastic formatting for this chapter. Something is up with FF.net, and it's not cool. Grrr!
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
She was so engrossed in the shock of that moment, watching him disappear down the dark street—duster fluttering behind him like the cape of some mysterious, dark archangel—that it took her a moment to notice the fiercely vibrating pager clipped in the sleeve of her over-shirt. It had been going off for some time now, she could tell as she slowly removed it from her sleeve, as if emerging from a trance. She stared at the number for one brief second, not really seeing it, and then her eyes went wide, recognition kicking in.
"Dawn…!" she muttered aloud to herself, a warning tingle creeping up along her spine.
And it seemed, just as she was pulling her atrophied limbs into action, she was immediately thrown off of her feet by an enormous gust of wind. The gust threw her nearly twenty straight feet across the deserted street, pinning her angrily against the brick side of a building with such strength, the breath was momentarily knocked out of her.
Head spinning, she painfully rolled her head up on her neck, gasping raggedly for breath, utterly dazed.
"Wh-hh-aaaa-aa-a…" was all she managed to stutter, incoherent. Dimly, with what little awareness she had, she realized in horror that it had to be something amazingly strong to have knocked her silly like that. It was still pinning her back, but the grip was loosening somewhat, as if whatever had tossed her so simply was now playing with her. She felt herself crumpling brokenly to her knees, vision still blurred, and all her Slayer senses were going wild; demanding that she get up and protect herself. It was like a broken, florescent sign were flashing 'DANGER, DANGER!!' across her brain, over and over, and she was struggling blindly to gather her wits.
And almost immediately it seemed, she was on her feet and shaking the stars from her vision. She saw the glowing red specter coming towards her almost before she heard the unearthly lowing of its call, the red-lit winds surrounding it swirling and coalescing as if to some silent heartbeat; but the form within this glowing veil stayed as one. Not solid, this specter, but unchanging, yes. And immediately she knew the origin of the eerie lowing.
It called to her pleadingly once again in its unearthly song, this glowing red bull, snorting great plumes of red mist into the air as it raised a heavy hoof, seemingly to dig at the pavement beneath its feet. And she found herself frozen in awe, and something else, her limbs once again unable to move of her command. It was calling to her, tugging at something within in her and she could feel the pull, like heavy cables trying to tear her from the bonds of her body. The pain was unbearable—bursting from within her as a brilliant, white-hot light—and yet, she could do nothing to stop it as it viciously tore at her, could not even cry out in pain.
Think! screamed her brain frantically, desperately trying to grab hold of whatever essence this strange, glowing specter was trying to accost from her.
Come on, Buffy! Get a hold of yourself!
She felt herself breathing again, tiny gasps at first and then in full breaths.
You have to get a hold of yourself! Dawn needs you—she strained, ever so slightly, feeling the light slowly being drug back into herself—your friends need you—
The bull let out a snorting cry of rage, bucking wildly, dark eyes burning madly like two hellish, smoldering coals as it attempted to regain its hold on her.
Sunnydale needs you, Giles needs you!
Buffy was struggling wildly now, feeling its hold tighten on her. It drove her back against the wall with another vicious typhoon, bucking and rearing like some wild rodeo show beast, but she continued to fight its hold with nothing but her stubborn will.
…Spike needs you, Buffy…You can't let them all down!
She was fading now, the winds pressing against her larynx in a crushing choke-hold.
You are the Chosen One! You are the infamous Vampire Slayer! You have so much to do…to live for…to fight for…
And she was losing. With her last few ounces of strength, she tried to pry the invisible hold from her throat.
"…s-sspike…!" She could feel herself fading, fading… "…S-Spike…Spiii-ike…" she gasped again, willing air into her throat, willing herself the strength for just one shout that would catch the vampire's attention. She forced the image of his face in her mind; those high cheekbones, those mysterious blue eyes, that ever-confident grin. She grasped for that sweet memory of his touch, the thrill of his kiss. And she saw him in her mind again, swirling away in an angry whirl of black leather.
He was leaving her. Her Spike…her unlikely black angel… She could forget that he was a killer, forget his true demonic nature…if only she could draw just one more breath and none of it would matter ever again!
The red bull was regaining his grip, coal-black eyes blazing as it watched her weakening under its magic summons. But she couldn't see it, could only see that fluttering black duster in her mind's eye, spinning farther and farther away, and it pulled at something deep within her; and throwing back her head for one brief moment of triumph, she screamed his name with all the feeling his diminishing image raised in her:
"SPIKE!!"
Head lolling, she collapsed, feeling herself fading with that one last use of strength. And she swore, in her mind, she saw the duster swirl about in alarm, rushing back towards her on winged feet just before she fell into its murky depths.
* * *
Spike's thoughts were a raging cacophony of rage, despair, and blind passion as he coldly turned his back on the tiny Slayer and all the emotions she instigated in him.
Everything was going too fast, crumbling around his head—he felt as if he were drowning. And the memories and images wouldn't stop exploding like angry starbursts in his head. Buffy! The Slayer! Such utterly perfect, soft, warm flesh…! Vanilla…sweet vanilla…silky, blonde hair. Olive, green eyes…so deep…No! No! No!
"…the dance…"
"…have to kill you…don't want to kill you…"
Her touch, like sunshine—oh, the burning! And her voice, so sweet yet like a razor…"Don't want to kill you"…No, no, no! Can't end like this! No…
"Stop!" he growled angrily, holding his head, trying to make the images be still. "No more! No more, sod it all…!"
But the images neither stopped nor abated their vicious assault. He could feel the animalistic, demon rage growing within him, and slowly crumbling in the face of his humanity like some fine china doll meeting an ocean torrent. No, he wouldn't give in. This was simply just another drawback. He would make the Slayer come around. He would.
He laughed, bitterly, viciously kicking at a stone in the path. "Oh, give it up, you bloody sod!" he snarled under his breath at himself, running an angry hand through his short hair. "She's the biggest damned, stubborn bitch there is!" And I love her more 'n blood and life itself, sod it all…
A drink, that's what he needed. One really, hard, drink. And this soddin' chip outta' my head…he thought hungrily, yearning more than ever for the hunt. If he could just feel that familiar thrill, his prey's blood singing in his veins, that joy as the life ebbed away and the neck was snapped with so much dispassionate finality.
He stopped himself, looking down at his hands in a new sort of horror. It was just like she'd said—already he was thirsting for the kill. He needed to kill, it was his nature, but… Buffy. This new thirst dwarfed any bloodthirsty appetites the demon in him could hold. And a crazy thought began to form in his mind…it was insane…
You could, it thrummed seductively, feeding this new desire in him with hazy images of the petite blonde. It's been tried…You could be the one to succeed. Angel failed, still struggles…You're just as strong. Maybe stronger. You could do this…
"I could…" he murmured thoughtfully, in awe. The thought terrified him, and yet…
"Spike!"
The loud cry burst into his thoughts like a slap of cold water. He looked back down the deserted street from which he had come toward the disembodied voice, his limbs automatically falling into a combat mode as he turned, and without thinking he broke into a desperate run.
He stumbled as he reached the street, alarmed at the sight of the monstrous, glowing red bull crouched triumphantly over the tiny, crumpled figure on the pavement. It snorted wildly, throwing back its horned head with wild abandon, pearl-like threads of light trailing from its wicked horns to Buffy's inert body like the torn innards of some gutted soldier.
"Bloody fucking hell!" Spike gasped, momentarily numb with amazement. Immediately, the bull's head jerked around at the sound, piercing him with glowing, coal-black eyes. It snorted derisively, almost as if dismissing him, then turned back to the unconscious Slayer before it, not bothering to give the surprised vampire another thought.
And then Spike's momentary shock was gone, leaping towards the fallen figure on the street.
"Buffy!" he cried worriedly, ignoring the bull for the time being. The unearthly creature turned on him once more, this time lowering its horns as if to attack. The vampire froze warily, falling into a fighter's stance as he circled the strangely glowing beast. It stared at him coldly, calculatingly and with obvious intelligence, and it seemed as if it didn't look at him but through him. Spike growled warningly, still in his human face, not sure of what the strange beast would do.
Finally, obviously not having found what it seemed to have been searching for, it turned back to the fallen Slayer again, tossing the vampire back several feet with an offhanded gust of wind.
"Hey!" cried out Spike indignantly, jumping to his feet in anger. "I said 'Hey!', you great big red tosser!" When the bull gave him no heed, he let out a ferocious, frenzied roar, diving at the beast in full game face.
Instantly he was thrown back against a building at the other end of the street. Dazed, he struggled to his feet, glaring at the glowing red monstrosity in blind rage. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth offhandedly, tasting blood.
"Alright, no more Mr. Nice Vampire!" he snapped shortly, rushing at the whirlwind. Leaping high, he spun his leg around in a deadly whip-kick to the thing's head.
And struck nothing. Or at least, he felt nothing. But in the next instant, he was sprawled ten feet away on the pavement, staring over at the calmly glowing beast and feeling the blood drip slowly down his chin and onto the street.
"Bloody hell," he muttered angrily in disbelief, swiping the blood away from his mouth with an angry hand as he climbed quickly to his feet. He stared the small ten foot distance at the red apparition, trying to gauge a means of attack with growing panic.
Then he spotted that strange whitish light he had noticed earlier coming from the Slayer. It suffused her, like the hazy nimbus of some mighty angel, and threadlike strands of it were clinging across the dark street to the red bull's horns.
What the bloody hell…? he thought fiercely, trying to make sense of it. But already the light seemed to be fading from Buffy's body, glowing brighter as it curled slowly around the bull's great horns like thread on a spool, and he knew he had to act quickly before whatever it was he was taking was all gone.
Waving his arms insanely, he growled challengingly at the glowing apparition, trying to capture its attention. "Over here, you red son-of-a-bitch!" There was a moment of frozen silence as the bull turned to pierce the furious vampire with its burning gaze. Sensing its annoyance, Spike continued, waving it towards him tauntingly. "That's right, you effulgent load of bull! Come and get me! Toro, you pillock! Toro!!"
Almost as an afterthought, he dropped his game face, reverting back to his human features. Suddenly the creature seemed just a bit more interested, turning a bit towards the wildly gesticulating vampire. Spike grinned tightly, his eyes flitting to the white-hot light trailing from the ghostly horns, which already had begun to shrink slowly back towards their owner.
"That's right, mate!" he taunted in a crooning, deadly voice, slowly stepping backwards to herd the creature away from Buffy. "I'm gonna' mess you up right nice for messin' with my Slayer…" he hissed softly, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.
He didn't notice the change at first. What alerted him foremost was the sudden shift in the animal's stance. It turned to gaze at him harder, sending out tendrils of power towards him, gently tugging at him. And then he felt it—the fiery glow. It began in his chest, licking out with tiny, electric fingers towards his limbs and head. It was barely a whisper, just a slight tingle of the radiant angelic light that radiated from the Slayer but it drew the beast nonetheless.
Staring down at the pale red-gold glow spider-webbing out from his chest in surprise for one brief moment, Spike looked up at the glowing bull with newly restored determination, a purely malicious grin spreading across his now human face. The light seemed to shrink in on itself a bit, but he paid it no heed, taunting the creature to come after him.
"Ahh…! So this is what you're lookin' for, you red bastard?" he asked it coolly, indicating the scarlet haze that now lightly diffused his body. It drifted towards him hesitantly, throwing its red glow over the street and nearby buildings, and he felt it once again tugging at him, more insistently this time. He backed up slightly and to the side, unwittingly leading it back towards Buffy's motionless body but placing himself between it and her brilliantly glowing light.
He recalled briefly how the creature had disappeared in the graveyard once he'd covered Buffy's body with his own. Casting a nervous glance over his shoulder at the petite Slayer, he gauged the distance between them. Just a few more feet and he'd be close enough to dive over her body before the bull could reach them.
He heard a muffled groan coming from the Slayer. She was coming to. He would have to do this quick before she woke and distracted the bull.
Remembering how the light had faded slightly in the face of his maliciousness, he decided to test a hunch. Drawing on all the desire and longing he had for the petite blonde Slayer, he turned to the huge specter with the sole purpose of protecting his love, and immediately, he felt the cold burn intensify, lighting up his face in an eerie crimson glow as he faced the red monstrosity.
"If you want her, then you'll have to go through me, pillock!" he yelled selflessly, allowing himself to believe in the words, feeding it with longing images of the lovely Slayer so that the light slowly began to engulf him in a dimmer version of Buffy's holy nimbus. He felt the immediate strain on him as the bull grabbed hold, and just as it reared its great head back to real him in, he dove backward the last few feet between him and the Slayer, back-flipping away from the glowing monstrosity, and threw himself over her, pinning her beneath him.
Buffy, who was fully conscious now, looked up at him in surprise, but he pressed her head roughly to the cement, crouching over her protectively. "Get down!" he snapped gruffly, turning back to the bull just as it reasserted its hold on the fast-moving vampire. Pulling on all of the demon within him, he turned on it in full game face, giving it the most ferocious snarl possible.
The light immediately disappeared from him, leaving only the viciously snarling vampire behind. The bull looked on in bewilderment, reeling, snorting in rage at the loss of its quarry. It threw its head madly, bucking at some unseen rider as it sent a ferocious, swirling wind at the two. And then it disappeared as fast as it had appeared, bucking away into the dark night and leaving only an eerie stillness behind in its wake.
Hesitantly, Spike pushed the demon back down, his face reverting to its handsome human features. He was shaking with exertion, breathing heavily despite himself, dried blood flecking his mouth and forehead. He licked his dry lips, rolling off of the silent Slayer and lying back on the cool pavement in exhaustion.
"Bloody hell…" was all he managed to gasp, closing his eyes wearily. Buffy simply looked at him silently from where she lay beside him, and together, the two of them lay motionlessly catching their breaths in the cool night air.
* * *
Finally, swiping a hand across the fast-drying blood on his lips, Spike rolled to a sitting position on the pavement, resting an arm on his knee as he fixed the Slayer with a somewhat rakish grin.
"Well, that was nice spot of fun, now, wasn't it, luv?"
Buffy lay still on the pavement, watching the vampire through dark, unfathomable eyes. "Why?" she said simply, her voice hoarse from her ordeal.
The vampire's face softened lovingly, immediately hopping to a crouch and offering her a hand. Hoisting her gently to her feet, he faced her warmly, the amusement still in his eyes despite his tenderness.
"Why what, luv? Why'd I come back?" He brushed her wildly disarrayed hair out of her face with a tender hand. "You know. Why else?"
Her face pinched painfully, she continued to study him, heart a jumble of longing, pain, and loyalty towards her duty. He was a mess, face and clothes dirty and spattered with blood—and he was just as beautiful as always, smiling down at her with a brash grin, blue eyes glittering. She remembered the determination and courage in his stance as he bravely lured that strange red bull away from her, using his own body as a lure, then throwing himself over her selflessly in order to shield her from its pull. He was beautiful, he was perfect, and she wondered how she would ever escape now, the trap he had unwittingly lured her heart into.
"That's the second time," she said suddenly, almost absentmindedly lifting a hand to his face to gently brush away the dried remains of blood.
He looked at her curiously, allowing her to clean him gently, soaking in her touch. "Howzat, luv?"
She finished her casual cleaning, letting her fingers rest lightly on his chin as she studied him reflectively. "The second time you've saved me, you silly vampire."
Spike grinned wickedly, grabbing her hand playfully. "Three, luv, if you count me saving you from that awful Ben bloke," he replied, winking at her.
"I'll never understand you," she whispered softly, tilting her head quizzically as if to ponder this. The earlier events of the night came back to her vaguely but she just wanted to pretend it had never happened. She didn't care anymore. The light on his face, the coolness of his touch…if only it could stay this simple forever in her mind. Just me and him, she thought longingly.
The humor died away, and he was staring at her deeply, watching the night shadows move across the smooth contours of her face. "You don't have to, luv," he replied simply. With a hesitant pause, he released his gentle hold on her hand, pulling away from her.
"Now, what exactly was that red devil that just attacked you?" he said, clearing his throat and changing the subject, pacing thoughtfully.
Buffy watched him with a tight expression, emotions dancing across her face. She seemed to be worrying over something, some decision, stance wavering slightly. "I…I don't know. Do you think it was that strange red whirlwind we saw in the cemetery?" she asked finally, licking her lips, her eyebrows furrowed deeply.
Spike cast her a similarly concerned glance, dark eyebrows knit tightly in thought. "Probably. Did it come at you the same way?"
She nodded slowly. "Pretty much. Except, I could see it this time. Last time, it was just wind. But it was that same mournful lowing we heard before." She shivered, looking about the street suddenly in discomfort. "It was—it was tugging at something inside me. What did it want?"
Spike was looking all businesslike. He shrugged stiffly, walking past her. "I don't know, Slayer. But we're going to find out." He looked at her pointedly, gesturing that they should head out.
Hesitating for a moment, she turned to follow him. Together, they left the deserted street in silence, the nighttime sounds returning around them, as if the silence had never been disturbed.
And the vast thing released its breath. For the moment.
* * * * *
TO BE CONTINUED…