Divinity: Something divine or superhuman; supernatural power or virtue; something which inspires awe. A celestial being, inferior to the supreme God, but superior to man. God . . . employing these subservient divinities. --Cheyne
San Francisco October 2003
What am I doing? She asked herself this for the tenth time in as many minutes. She stared at her fingers laced with his and tried to calm the slow fission of fear climbing up her spine.
It just wasn't logical and she was nothing if not logical. Some said it was her greatest strength, most said it was her most boring feature.
That's why you're here, dork.
This was college now. It was high time to leave 'little miss nobody' behind in Oklahoma. When her roommates had reluctantly invited her to go out with them, she had practically kissed them in gratitude. Hey she could be daring and impulsive, she'd drank that god-awful fruity thing right? So what if she'd immediately puked it up? That wasn't the point. Chancing another glance under her lashes at the man who had lead her upstairs to the balcony, she smiled shyly. He was gorgeous and mysterious and she could brag for days about the handsome stranger who had whisked her away from her snobby friends. That was, after all, why she was here.
So enraptured by his perfect lips, it took a moment to realize he was talking to her. Giggling like the foolish school girl she was, she took the place he indicated at the rail overlooking the club. She could see everything and everyone, the lights from the dance floor made her squint a bit, making her wish for her glasses, but she was fascinated by the vantage point. Even more intriguing was the feel of his hard body pressing against her back and thighs.
His fingers began to trace a slow path up and down her bare arms. They came to rest on top of her hands, gripped tightly around the railing. He was whispering in her ear to relax and the low gravely tone was undeniably sexy. Sighing slightly, she let her head fall back on his shoulder and was rewarded by a slight moan from deep in his throat. Exalting in her first rush of feminine power, she gave an experimental shift of her hips against the hardness of his. His moan shifted into a low growl and she caught herself just before a delighted giggle escaped. Those same long fingers that had been making such sweet patterns on her arms had left her hands and were now tracing a swift line up her thighs.
The lights of the club were dancing before her eyes and she wanted to drown and fly at the same time. She got it now, this is what girls whispered of back home, her parents warned about and her preacher railed against.
Sorry Mom, Dad…God, but this is too good to miss.
It wasn't until she felt his hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward, did she notice that the hem of her skirt had found a new home at her waist. A moment of blind panic set in and she started to struggle but his voice was back in her ear, soothing her, and she automatically relaxed. In some deep recess of her mind it occurred to her that maybe there was some connection to his voice and her loss of inhibition but she quickly dismissed it as a ridiculous fancy.
A low moan escaped her throat as her panties were pushed aside and he buried his fingers within her. No one had ever touched her there, save herself. The first thought to trickle through her mind was that she hadn't realized, until now, how cold his skin was. The second was that she didn't give a shit just as long as he never stopped touching her. His arms were around her waist, holding her and moving her in time with the music blaring around them and the swift rhythm he was forcing into her body. His tongue was running a slow trail from her ear to her collarbone and back again. A massive pit of fire was churning in her stomach threatening to explode any second and she was more than happy to join the ride. She could hear her breath coming in frenzied gasps and a low scream broke from her throat when he grazed her neck with his teeth, pinching slightly.
To hell with being a good girl. If this is how the other side lives, I'm switching teams.
A low shudder formed at the bottom of her spine and began to inch its way up her back and through her blood. She'd never felt anything like the orgasm that was building in her body and she decided that she would happily die right here and now if it never had to end.
Then, suddenly, it was gone…he was gone.
Turning quickly, her eyes darted around in confusion, finally settling on a blonde man who stood less than a foot away smiling at her. Frantically shoving at her skirt, she desperately tried to swallow her mortification. She realized what she had taken for a genuine smile at first was in fact a deprecating smirk.
"Are you-" at the husky tone in her voice she coughed slightly and tried again. "Are you a bouncer?"
He chuckled at the thought and moved forward, trapping her back against the rail between his arms. His gaze traveled over her face and his hand came up to brush at a spot on her neck.
"No, pet, I'm not a bouncer. Did you know that you absolutely reek of innocence? It's quite intoxicating to a certain sort. You know, if I were you, I'd set right to work shagging any available bloke I could. Might keep you alive longer."
"You can't talk to me like that. My boyfriend…" she trailed off as it occurred to her that didn't she know if he even 'was' her boyfriend. She also didn't have the slightest clue what his name was.
The blonde rolled his eyes in exasperation and took a small step back. Reaching out a hand, he gripped her chin harshly and ran his thumb over the same spot on her neck that seemed to consistently hold his attention. Leaning in, he whispered softly into her ear. "He didn't tell you his name? Now that's just bad manners. Mind you, I'm not surprised. Boy hadn't learned not to play with his food either."
He lifted his hand and raised it, mockingly, in front of her face. Thick, red blood, her blood, dripped slowly down his fingers. She watched in horror as he proceeded to lick his fingers clean. Choking on the scream welling in her throat, she pushed past him and ran for the stairs. She lost control of the scream when a hand clamped down on her arm. Whipping her head back, she stared to sob as she encountered yellow eyes and a heavily ridged face. She almost fainted when the face exploded into a shower of dust. Looking up from the piece of wood that clattered to the floor, her gaze shot to a pair of uncompromising blue eyes watching her. "Go. Now," he ground out. She could see four more of the horrible creatures advancing into the small area, all heading for the man who had saved her.
"But, you-"
The blue eyes suddenly changed to yellow and there was a slight crunching noise as his features began to shift. Turning around, she ran.
"That hurts, you know!"
Spike glared at the slip of a woman bandaging his ribs. Rain simply arched an eyebrow and pulled harder.
"Bloody bi-" At the slight crackle of electrical energy under her fingertips, Spike quickly backtracked. "Witch! Bloody witch!"
Rain grinned and moved from her place crouched in front of him into one of the kitchen's many chairs. Spike watched her bend forward and finish smoothing out the cotton bandage wrapped around his middle. Short dark hair, wide green eyes, little button nose, she was kinda cute …except for that nasty human business.
"You know", she said pulling his attention back," this would be a lot easier if you would just take off your shirt."
Spike laughed, "and risk Tasha's wrath? I don't think so." Spike couldn't help the surge in his gut whenever he thought of Tasha. She was perfect; beautiful, smart, lethal, undeniably sexy, an amazing shag, everything he could ever want in a mate and companion.
So why don't you love her, you stupid git.
Rain snorted. "I don't know where she got that stupid superstition from," she said, starting to pack up the medical supplies, "Who ever heard of hiding your back to prevent someone from stabbing you in it? I mean, if someone was really determined I don't see how a little piece of cloth would prevent that. It's completely ridiculous. I don't know how you put up with her."
Spike quickly hid the grin threatening to erupt. There was absolutely no love lost between Rain and Tasha, a fact both would attest to wholeheartedly.
"After a hundred years of Dru's ravings, one piddly little superstition is child's play. Of course.." Spike smirked, his tongue firmly between his teeth. " It might not 'be' superstition. Could be she's just trying to prevent all you women from drooling all over my perfect body. Can't say I really blame the girl."
A loud snort could be clearly heard from the recesses of the cupboard under the sink, where Rain had moved to store the First Aid kit. "Don't worry, Spike. Your virtue is safe with me. One vampire in my bed is more than enough."
Lucky bastard.
Spike stomped down on the thought the second it emerged. Rain was a nice enough chit but she was still human. Tasha was right, the whole idea of vampires and humans together was abhorrent. Still, one had to wonder how a screwed-up spell could wrought such a change in one of the most vicious vampire teams in history. Ian had been a legend and his sister Tasha a force to be reckoned with. Between the two of them they had laid siege to more than their share of countries. An ill-planned hunt, an amateur witch and a few mispronounced words had changed three lives forever.
Spike honestly wished he could have been there, to see the look on Ian and Tasha's faces if nothing else. According to Rain it had been priceless. She was the only one of the three who could laugh about it. Apparently Tasha and Ian had attacked her on her way home one night. The spell she'd shrieked was supposed to turn them to dust. Instead, it accidentally bonded their lives to hers. If any of the trio died, the other two would immediately follow which ,thankfully, was ascertained quite quickly when Ian tried to kill Rain moments after the spell was cast and Tasha hit the ground in a heap.
Spike had laughed for twenty minutes when he finally heard the whole story of how they came to be together. He laughed even harder when he found out how two of the most feared vampires in history were forced to help a tiny little wanna-be witch defeat the evils of the world. He could clearly picture Rain, all five feet of her, calmly informing them that she was going to battle demons and if they didn't get off their asses and help then they were all going to die. Tasha, to this day, was still trying to break the spell.
Not that it would do much good now. The spell wasn't what kept Ian attached to Rain like an over eager puppy, though no one would talk about that either. From the bits and pieces he had been able to decipher, it had taken years for the love part of the Rain and Ian saga to get underway. Of course he'd pushed relentlessly to find out how such an unlikely pair had come to be, until Ian had finally cornered him and told him if he didn't drop it, he would be waking up staked out in the yard. All he knew was that someone important had died and that Tasha and Ian had never fed again.
Spike grinned as she resumed her place at the table. "Where is the whelp, anyway?"
A flicker of annoyance crossed Rain's face but was quickly replaced with resignation. "Ian", she stressed, "should be back soon. That nest they were scouting won't take too long. I wish you would stop calling him that, he really hates it."
Spike shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Wouldn't be half as fun if he liked it. "
"Speaking of your warped sense of fun, what was that crap at the club about?"
Spike started to fish for his smokes, avoiding her eyes. "Man's entitled to some entertainment, no need to get your knickers in a knot," he mumbled.
Rain grabbed his chin and forced his gaze to hers. "Spike, just because you can survive a staking doesn't mean you're indestructible."
Spike ripped his chin from her grasp and lightly fingered the tattoo over his heart, it was a heavy swirl of black writing in a language he'd never seen, with wide green vines twisting between the letters, binding it all together. A souvenir from his ill-fated trip to Africa six months earlier. He still had no bloody clue how he got it, but he knew what it did. That's how he had ended up in this mess to begin with. Spike jumped up from his place at the table and began to pace the kitchen, his mind and memories insisting on a much reviled trip.
He didn't want to think about Africa, the desperate plan that had sent him there or the subsequent failure of it. If he hadn't needed the goddamn chip out so badly he never would have gone there. The plan had been simple; find some quack shaman, fix his head and return a new man, the man 'she' wanted. The plan, however, had turned into, get pissed on bad booze in the first bar he encountered, wake up on a boat back to the states sporting a brand new tattoo.
God dammit Dru, just once couldn't you have wanted me the way I am.
Spike mumbled something about 'best laid plans and the road to hell', which caused Rain to shoot him in a quizzical look. Shaking his head at her, Spike continued his pacing. He hadn't been able to find hide nor hair of Dru when he'd gotten back. Instead, hunger and desperation had forced him to hide out in alleys scaring people for cash.
That was when fate had intervened and he'd met the cast and crew of Divinity. It was a stupid name, and he had made no bones about stating that at least twice a day. No one listened to him though, even when he'd pointed out there was nothing divine about three vampires, a witch, a hacker and a…whatever the hell Sage was.
.
Could've been worse, he mused. Could've been something completely insipid like… the Scoobies.
He'd been hiding behind a dumpster waiting for a victim when he found them, or when they'd found him, it was never quite clear who had been looking for who. He'd hopped out into the open all fists and fangs, looking for enough cash to get him through the night and found the pointy end of a stake instead. It was almost comical when he thought of it now; all of them standing there staring at the wood imbedded in his chest, all waiting for the inevitable poof that never came. Then of course, there was that unfortunate incident when the whelp knocked him over the head, rendering the world a nice soothing black. He'd woken up bound and gagged in their basement with a headache, a hangover and serious case of depression.
Truly pathetic.
So here he was; living in a manor, fighting the evil nasties of the world with two cursed vampires and a few humans that should, by all rights, have been dinner. Not that it started out that way, but Spike was nothing if not resourceful. He knew he wasn't going to survive much longer the way things were going, especially now that Dru wasn't around to protect him. So he'd swallowed what little pride he'd had left and begged them to take him in. It had all reasoned out quite well in his mind. He would still get his quota of blood shed, it just really wasn't all that important anymore which side he was fighting on. They were all essentially the same in his mind, except one side boasted acceptance and running water, while the other promised a swift decapitation of the weak links. Not much a choice when one thought about it. It had taken a while for them to trust him and he'd had to go above and beyond the call of duty, to the point of almost getting himself killed, before they accepted him. Well that and the full-out seduction game he'd played on Tasha. That was actually the hardest part. It had damn near killed him to put aside his memories of Dru and pretend to love another woman.
For the most part he was content. He had a roof over his head, a steady supple of blood and booze, sex whenever he wanted it, a good spot of nightly violence. What more could a bloke want?
Love, passion, commitment. A traitorous little voice in his head screamed.
Spike jabbed his thumbs in his eyes and tried to silence the constant nag in the back of his brain. He didn't love Tasha. He'd tried, but there was some kind of block inside him that prevented it. As much as he wanted to, as easy as it would make things, he just couldn't do it. He knew it was because his heart belonged to a bitch who didn't want it.
A warm hand on his arm brought him back to reality. Opening his eyes, he stared into Rain's sympathetic ones. "You can't force it," she said quietly, knowing where his tangled thoughts had taken him without a word spoken between them. That was another strange twist in his life. Spike hadn't had many friends. Christ, he didn't know if he'd ever had a friend. If someone had told him a year ago that some human girl would be his best one, he would have laughed in their face. But here she was and Spike could honestly say he would die to protect her. It just felt right. Before he could open his mouth to reassure her, a door slammed and arguing could be clearly heard in the hall. Seconds later, Tasha and Ian charged into the kitchen pushing and shoving at each other.
Ian was built like a line backer. At six foot three he towered over the rest of them, but the image was subsequently ruined by the mop of unruly brown hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. That and his penchant for faded blue jeans and football jerseys. He would have blended in perfectly at any college campus. Tasha was the complete opposite of her brother. She had the height but that was where the similarities ended. Long, black hair flowed to her waist, over a slim, lean frame. Deep blue eyes burned out of a pale, aquiline face, that boasted piercings in her eyebrows, nose and lip. She consistently dressed in straight black, though Spike had tried to get her to wear some color. She had insisted it would ruin the image.
Ian swooped down and lifted Rain to his level for a kiss and Tasha tucked herself into Spikes side, leaning in to brush her lips across his. They were a perfect height match and Spike had yet to figure out why that seemed off somehow.
A slight clearing of a throat had four pairs of eyes turning towards the entrance. Framed in the doorway was Sam, or as everyone but Rain called him, Toad. He was a short, indiscriminate boy with large owlish eyes hidden behind thick glasses and short, army requisitioned hair. He was also a certified genius. Books, computers, electronics, nothing was beyond his capabilities. He could have been a millionaire but instead he chose to research and create advanced weapons. Spike would have asked him why but as far as he could tell the boy only spoke in one word sentences.
Ian put Rain down and moved back into the hall with Toad. Spike raised an eyebrow at Tasha.
"We found the nest and Ian figures we should move in tomorrow. He wants to know if Toad is done with that fire gun thingy."
"Are you sure tomorrow is a good idea? That's not a lot of time to get ready. How many were there?"
"I couldn't see past Ian's huge head, but he said there were only a few. Should be no problem."
"I thought you said there were only a few," Spike growled
Ian shrugged and looked at the fifty vampires encircling them. "Maybe they multiplied."
Spike glared at Ian's back. "Next time, you're bringing a bloody calculator."
Ian, Tasha, Rain and Spike stood with their backs together facing a mob of pissed off demons in the center of a tunnel system's ante-chamber. They'd been expecting a den of sorts. What they hadn't counted on was the club-like atmosphere of the cave. There was close to two hundred tables set up, along with a DJ booth and bar. Strobe lights winked on and off in a dizzying pattern distorting their view of the room. Six tunnels branched off from the room, leading out to various points in the city.
Ian took a deep breath and squared his shoulders with authority. "We'll each take ten."
Spike snorted. "All hail the fearless and utterly inept leader. Maybe we should ask the other ten to wait their turn."
Ian shifted uncomfortably, mumbling something about the metric system and Rain smacked Spike in the back of the head. "Just put the pointy end of the stick in the heart area and let's get the job done," she growled. Spike grinned and all four simultaneously rolled their shoulder, preparing to fight.
They didn't have to wait long. Spreading out slightly , they kept their backs to each other and engaged the first wave. Within seconds bodies and dust were cluttering the air and floor.
Spike ducked low as a vampire came at him. As it sailed overhead he brought his stake up into its chest. Rising quickly, he kicked a foot back and up, connecting with the chin of one approaching behind him, even as he was engaging two before him. The world turned into one large, spinning kaleidoscope of dust and blood. With a cocky, blonde vampire standing smack dab in the middle grinning like a maniac. Adrenaline sang in his veins as he bounced on his toes searching for more victims.
Glancing to the side, he watched for a second as Tasha flitted through a crowd of five staking as she went. She reminded him of a ballerina when she fought. All graceful turns and well timed movements, she even stood on her toes. It was truly beautiful to see. Discerning that she was holding her own, Spike moved towards the mob fighting Ian and Rain.
Ian was reminiscent of a bulldozer. He just put his head down and rolled over who ever happened to be in his path. The whole football analogy popped back into Spike's head and he made a mental note to ask Ian if he'd ever played. Rain's fighting style was another story entirely. She was quick, she was cunning, and she was resourceful. He'd actually seen her kill two vamps with a chopstick once.
Fights just like…
Spike ripped his mind back to the present. The whole idea of 'that girl' set his teeth on edge and he really didn't want to examine why. Rushing headlong into the middle of the battle, he immediately dropped to the ground and rolled, narrowly missing an axe intended for his neck. A low rumble of utter delight rolled through his chest as his opponent stared stupidly at the axe trying to figure why that move hadn't worked. Spike leaned over and plucked it out of confused hands. "Thanks, mate. Always wanted one of those. Now here's how you should have done it."
Two hours later they lay together in a exhausted heap on the floor. All fifty vampires were neat and tidy piles dust waiting to be swept up and disposed of. They had come out the other side of the fight with only a few minor injuries between them. Spike was lying comfortably with his head in Tasha's lap, grinning up at her like a kid who had just robbed the candy store. "You think the pub will deliver this time or do we still have to go ourselves?"
"Ssshh," Rain moaned, "give me a minute for my bones to knit back together."
A slight sliver flash caught the corner of his eye and he echoed Rain's moan with one of his own. Shifting his head slightly, he glared at the apparition that had appeared in the middle of the room. A silver sheen created a halo effect around her slight frame. Spike figured it was probably due to the fact that she was entirely silver in color, from her floor length hair, to her skin and eyes. "Hey Tinkerbell, you ever going to get here 'before' the fight."
Sage stood regally, regarding them all with a hint of a smile on her silver lips. Sniffing delicately, she swallowed a bite of the giant piece of pizza she was holding. "I was hungry."
Spike growled in annoyance. She had shown up out of the blue three months prior and had informed them that she had been assigned to help. So far, her helping had consisted of either showing up late or trying to get them all killed. "I swear, if I wasn't so tired, I'd rip her head clean off," Spike mumbled under his breath.
Sage glared at Spike and then ignored him to speak to the others. "You had all better perk up soon."
Spike shot her a confused look. "What? Why?"
"'Cause there are about a hundred more coming down the tunnels. You guys invaded The Sanctuary."
Spike rolled over and glared at Ian. " You stupid, idiotic moron," he railed. "The fucking Sanctuary! Are you insane?"
Ian glanced around guiltily. "Well I didn't know."
The Sanctuary was a safe house for vampires and demons alike. At any given time there could be anywhere from ten to a thousand in residence. That's why it was safe; no one was stupid enough to invade it.
Sage nodded and tittered. Her laugh was a musical stream of bells. "And boy are they mad." She gestured towards the tunnels where a distinct stomping noise was making itself known.
Tasha spoke first. "What do we do?"
Spike looked at his companions then at the six tunnels leading into the camber. Nodding sharply, he cleared his throat. "Right then…we run."
They turned towards the closest tunnel at the same moment thirty vampires streamed through it. Backing up into the center of the room, where Sage remained calmly finishing her pizza, they watched with trepidation as the other five tunnels emitted a steady stream of pissed off, weapon carrying demons.
Spike was just about to start swinging his axe when Rain grabbed his arm and pulled sharply. Spike was about to ask what the hell she thought she was doing when he noticed Ian and Tasha sprinting towards an overturned table. That was when he saw the slight gold glow beginning off to his right. "Shit," he muttered, and took off for the table, scooping Rain up as he went, her speed no match for his. Diving over the table, he dropped Rain beside Ian and curled himself around Tasha. Ian took his place over them and Spike could hear Rain fumbling with the plastic blanket she'd kept with her since Sage had shown up. A quick chant of the necessary spell and Rain flung herself on top of them for extra protection. As a human, she was immune to the effects of the gold rays.
Spike squeezed his eyes shut as a gold light exploded around them, similar to the effect of a nuclear blast. The resulting quiet was deceptively calm and they stayed put for a moment, no one wiling to leave their hasty shelter.
"You know, if I still had my duster it would probably cover-"
"Shut up, Spike!" came three simultaneous voices.
"I was just bloody saying!"
"Spike," Ian growled, " if I have to hear about that fucking coat one more time, I swear…"
"Fine," Spike mumbled, but added a rather colorful threat under his breath of severe retribution if he ever found out who had stolen it. Finally, Spike felt the weight above him shift and blinked open his eyes. Running a hand over Tasha's face, he smiled. "You okay, luv?"
She returned the smile. "I'm fine." Spike nodded and then exploded off the floor. Leaping back over the table, he stalked to the middle of the room where Sage still stood. A slight gold shimmer reflected off her silver skin the only evidence of her awesome power.
"How many times have we told you to warn us before you do that! " Spike screamed into her face. Sage looked at him, then the thick layer of dust encompassing the chamber. Shrugging nonchalantly, she gave a flick of a wrist and an orange appeared in her hand which she immediately began to peel.
A strong hand on his arm stopped him seconds before he lunged for her throat. Rain stepped in front of him, pushing on his chest and Ian pulled him back. Spinning on his heel, Spike stalked back across the room to join Tasha, visions of decapitation running rampant through his mind. Moments later, the other two joined them and he noted that Sage had disappeared as quickly as she came.
"Did she explain why she keeps trying to kill us?" he growled.
Rain shrugged and rubbed her tired eyes. "She said she was in a hurry."
"You know this is what I've been saying all along, they never include us. Oh it's all bloody fine and dandy to kill a few vamps here and there but whenever the big stuff happens, they never call. What's the big emergency? Apocalypse again?"
A slow grin spread across Rain's face and moved to Ian's. Spike glared at them both "What?"
"She said she was late for her manicure."
Spike threw his hands up and stomped towards the tunnels. "Well that's just bloody perfect. The dimension- hopping menace, who almost flambéed us, again, needed her pinkies polished. "
A chorus of giggles erupted behind them.
"You're beneath me."
"Come in Spike."
"It would never be you."
"Tell me you want me."
"I'm using you."
"Tell me you love me."
"I'm sorry, William."
"Ask me again why I could never love you."
Spike sat straight up in the chair, his gaze bouncing erratically around the room. When he assembled that he was, in fact, in the manor's living room, he relaxed slightly, closed his eyes and lay his head against the back of the chair.
Bloody, soddin', buggering dreams.
A cool hand brushed over his forehead and Spike pressed his face closer to the comforting contact.
"Same dream?"
Spike slowly opened his eyes and smiled into Tasha's concerned face. "It's nothing, pet."
"It's not nothing. Maybe a few dreams is nothing, but every time you close your eyes now, you wake up whimpering and in a cold sweat. It has to stop, Spike. Please, just tell me what they are about."
Spike shook his head and clenched his teeth. "I don't want to talk about it. I 'won't' talk about it. Just let it be Tash."
Tasha glared at him and grabbed his shoulders, forcing his gaze to hers. "You need to do something about this." Her voice dropped to a softer tone as his body stiffened further. "It's getting worse, Spike. What if something happened to you in Africa? What if they did something else to you?"
Spike grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands away, his voice low and deadly. "I said to leave it alone and I mean leave it alone. Nothing happened, I'm fine."
At her stricken look, Spike twined his fingers in hers and tried to appear calm. He didn't…couldn't discuss this with anyone, especially not Tasha. If he so much as glanced in another woman's direction she went into an apocalyptic fit. There was no way in hell he was telling her that he dreamed of the Slayer. How could he possibly explain that every time he closed his eyes, he loved a woman who, in reality, he despised. She'd skin him alive.
Still he was going to have to do something, and soon. When he'd first got back from Africa the dreams been occasional and not very clear. More often than not he forget about them as soon as he woke. But over the last few months, the dreams had lost that hazy quality and were now moving swiftly into living, breathing Technicolor. It was almost like he had actually been there. He could feel, touch and taste every single aspect of a life he'd never lived.
Bloody ridiculous. It never happened. Just a warped mind game from all the do-gooding going on around here. Or maybe the bloody chip is finally frying my brain.
Spike sat straight up in his chair.
The chip! It's a malfunction, some kind of short-circuit, making my mind go all screwy. I left Sunnydale and went to Dru when those buggers messed with my head…not that bitch.
That was the truth, that was real, no matter what his dreams said to the contrary. Tasha was still watching him with that pinched look she had these days when he woke up. Spike sighed. He couldn't tell her but he could find a way to make them stop. "Listen, pet, I'll get Toad to take a peek at the chip. Maybe a wire's come loose, messed up my head a bit."
Tasha nodded in relief. "That's a good idea, it's probably just a short circuit or something. He should be home soon."
Spike lifted a questioning brow at her. He wasn't aware the little hack ever left the house.
"He said he had to pick something up from the airport. I think I heard a car pull up a few minutes ago."
A few seconds later the sound of a door opening was heard and Sam's voice drifted from the foyer into the living room.
Spike shot a glance at Tasha as he rose from the chair. "Something or someone?"
Tasha shrugged and they both moved to intercept Sam. Equally eager to solve the dilemma of his dreams but for entirely different reasons. Spike reached down to lace his fingers with Tasha's, the tension in her frame was palatable and he frowned slightly.
Sometimes he didn't understand Tasha. Every once in a while, she'd get this look on her face like her whole world was about to crumble and she'd cling to him like a lifeline. Actually, now that he thought about it, the more frequent the dreams got, the worse she got.
Spike stopped their progress and pulled her into his arms. Leaning in, he brushed a soft kiss across her lips and tilted her chin up, staring intently into her eyes. "Everything will be fine, luv. I promise. We'll fix this, okay?"
Tasha nodded slightly and leaned in for another kiss. Spike sighed against her lips, and prayed for the day that what he felt for, this beautiful, loyal woman in his arms, was more than just physical. So caught up in his own self-recriminations, he didn't register the shiver of fear and desperation that ran through Tasha's body as she pulled him closer.
TBC…
Okay, so you hate Tasha. That's fine, actually if you didn't I would be insulted. Next chapter, we are going back to England to check up on Buffy. Not to worry though, Spike and Buffy will meet up soon enough. And let me just say, it's not going to be pretty. Questions? Comments? Let me know what you like, what you hate. We'll talk. J