It surrounded him, blanketing his chest, his thighs, winding between his toes and trailing over his fingers.
Water.
Spike sighed contently and ran a finger through the shallow waves engulfing him. He didn't know how he got here, didn't rightly care. It was...peaceful, unlike the current harshness of reality. The red edges of sunset peeked and prodded at his closed eyes and he squeezed them tight until all was dark.
Not a slip, not a whisper, the absence of light and the hell it brought to heart and mind.
Rolling to his stomach, he reveled in the warmth it reminded him of the surface of a lake after a long hot summer day. With a brief stroke of one arm, he lazily trailed his hand up and down, marveling at the silkiness as the drops that slipped through his fingers. Opening his mouth he caught the slight tang of salt as his mouth filled with the life giving elixir of the sea. It was sweet and potent, rushing through his veins, blanketing his mind, almost like...blood.
Rolling his hand in widening circles, he was momentarily startled by a slight catch as something glide over his fingers. He was mildly disturbed that he had to share his haven, if only with something as inconspicuous as sea weed but shook it as the substance flowed through his fingers like the soft caress of a women's hair.
Then, as all the best dreams do, his surroundings changed as if to pull him physically from his delightful slumber. The temperature of the water started to cool abruptly and the easy waves kicked up rocking against his body in a fit of temper. Spike sighed, now he could hear voices jabbing at his mind trying to entice him to the surface with their harshly ringing tones. He briefly considered letting his body become heavy and sink further but into the dream but he knew on a subconscious level that it was no use. Whatever was up there on the surface would reach in and pull him out whether he liked it or not. Best to just get it over with, with a sharp kick, Spike began the journey upwards to air and life and the inevitable harshness of reality.
A sharp cry of panic shot through his limbs when his legs refused to move and his mouth filled with a noxious sewage, choking him. Kicking hard, he felt a force from below wrap around his knee and immobilize it. He tried to push at it with his hand but something had tangled around his wrist. The water was pitching him about in a frenzy, squeezing at his throat and thrashing about his body. He fought back, punching and kicking with the full force of his strength, slowly making his way to the surface. When at last Spike shot through he threw his head back and opened his mouth trying to expel the gallons of water trapped in his throat. His eyes finally opened and all he could see was red.
Everything was covered in wave after wave of deep scarlet hues, it lent the atmospheric effect of blood cascading down the walls, over the floor and across the ceiling. Blinking twice, he could do nothing but stare dumbly at the wall inches from his face and take a few moments to decipher what exactly was going on. It was a toss up how long he would stayed in that position but something sharp jabbed in his side and with it brought the realization that the walls may or may not be covered in blood but his mouth was surely full of it.
With a startled gasp, he wrenched his fangs out of the flesh they were imbedded in and stared shocked at the puncture wounds inches from his eyes. The world took on even more of a surreal glow as one odd drop of crimson slipped off his tooth and crashed down to meld inconspicuously with the steady stream of blood dripping slowly from his victim's neck. The sight caused his fingers to spasm, whether from delight or horror he couldn't be sure, but he did note that his previous fascination with sea weed was proven verified as one of his hands was wrapped in waves and waves of blonde hair. Mind you it was to wrench this particular persons head to the side, obscuring her face and baring her jugular rather than the caress he'd supposed but all in all, soft girly hair.
Spike jammed his eyes shut.
What in the bloody hell is wrong with me! Girly hair? Sea weed? And where did all this waxy poetic dribble come from. What the fuck is going on?
"Oh god...Spike."
The heartfelt cry had him tearing his sight away from the macabre fare filling his vision and mind. He fell straight into Rain's wide tear soaked green eyes. Tilting his head in bewilderment at the inexplicable anguish in their depths, he glanced over to Ian with the idea that maybe he knew why Rain was so upset. Ian wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to Spike's predicament, however. At the moment he seemed much concerned with restraining a squirming Rain. His arm was locked tight around her waist and his face was buried in her hair whispering something. Spike narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the snatches of some mantra that Ian was clinging to.
"It's not him. It's not him. It's not him." Well that makes not one wit of sense.
Sound started to filter through to his disoriented mind and another voice joined the melee in his head. Tearing his gaze from his oddly-acting friends, he scanned the rest of the room's occupants. Rain's brother was leaning against a table with his arms crossed over his chest. A disgruntled expression marred his features as he endeavored to ignore...Spike's gaze shifted over the length of the table...Tasha. Where Cainen's posture oozed casual arrogance, Tasha's portrayed the polar opposite. Her fingernails dug viscously into the edge of the wooden table as she leaned halfway over it, hissing through clenched teeth at Cainen.
Shaking his head, Spike dropped his gaze to the table itself. Two glass balls rested there, one crimson and one black. He connected the room's illumination with the blinding glow that emitted from the red one. But the black seemed to be essentially dormant, at least until he peered closer and whatever the black substance was that filled the orb moved and writhed with a life of its own. Wrenching his gaze away, he returned his focus to Rain and Ian who hadn't accomplished much while his interest had been otherwise occupied. She was still pulling at his arm trying to get free. He opened his mouth to tell Ian to just bloody well let her go when he caught a brief glimpse of leather entangling their wrists together.
The sight of the restraint sent a message to his mind and he immediately felt a sharp pull and chafe on his own wrist. Once the initial physical reminder of his position was asserted the rest came fast and furious, bombarding his senses. The slight brush of a woman's breast against his chest, the firmness of the thighs he rested between and the harsh rattle of breath from lips that were inches from his ear.
Spike willed his head to turn and see the face he'd avoided until now. Though he didn't see the point; he knew who was beneath him. It was a simple process of elimination.
One brow rose in puzzled fascination at the peaceful serenity covering her face. She was out cold, but still breathing. Taking her chin in his hand he roughly turned her head from side to side seeking a response.
Nothing.
He dropped his hand slowly, pulling his upper body away and fought a growing sense of horror as her head lolled limply to the side. He should be ecstatic, number three, a flawless record. Even now her blood sung in his veins, making him strong, making him more real than he'd been in years, but all he could feel was a sharp ache in the region of his heart.
What has she done to me? Was his first thought, followed swiftly by the knowledge that the statement carried a disturbing tang of familiarity. It was with a with a filmy sense of surrealism that he dropped his face into the curve of her neck. "Buffy." Came spilling out of his mouth in choked gasp, mixing with the ever dripping blood and salt of his tears.
Buffy peeked open the slimmest edge of her eyelid and glared at the demonic strobe light dragging her away from sweet oblivion and Willow. She was getting just the teeny tiniest bit tired of getting knocked unconscious and a whole hell of a lot tired at getting dragged back up. Internally grumbling against the inevitable, she made a mental list of things that needed to be done.
1) Kick Caniens' ass.
2) Rip Tasha's skanky, lying, probably pierced, tongue out. A devious smile rolled over lips on that one.
3) Make Rain stop crying. The sound was getting on her nerves.
4) Get the dead weight off her chest.
5) Sleep until she was sixty.
Whoa, back up a step there.
Opening her eyes she stared at the black leather encompassing her vision.
Black leather...dead weight...and the Oscar goes to...
"Spike," she groaned as his mass threatened to cut off her air supply. Her voice was muffled against the fabric on his shoulder and it came out more along the lines of 'smuffk'. Not easily deterred, she shoved as his shoulder with her free hand. It briefly occurred to her that her normal strength wasn't quite up to par but that thought got lost in the shuffle as his body jerked and she found herself staring into golden eyes.
Their gazes locked for a minute. The world seemed to end and begin in those precious sixty seconds. She'd never seen anyone regard her with such a degree of hope and relief before. Okay, maybe she had but not with the accompanying fangs and ridged features. Before she could ask what was up, the world chose to right itself and certain area of her body demanded attention. A suspiciously sticky residue slid off her neck and she could feel more matting in her hair. Bucking her body up, air came rushing into her lungs and she started to cough uncontrollably. She stared wide-eyed at Spike, trying to process what her body was screaming and her mind was vehemently denying.
She stared blindly at his ridged forehead, shaking her head in defiance.
No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He loves me. I know he does. He wouldn't do...this.
Even as she tried desperately to convince her heart, the logic of her mind screamed its own truths.
He could. He would. He did. Spike tried to kill you, when you couldn't defend yourself. He's a vampire and nothing will change that.
Over and over her mind chanted its diatribe, flinging vicious accusations at her heart. Helpless to refute the damning evidence, Buffy's body rebelled against the assault, punching and clawing like a demonic hell cat. Spike rolled off of her with the force of the attack, enabling Buffy to reach her knees. She crawled swiftly forward, staring at the floor, trying not to let the sob clawing at her throat out, but was brought up short by the length of leather keeping them connected.
"Buffy."
Her head shot up at the sound of her name and she stared dazedly at Rain a few feet away.
"Buffy, he didn't mean to, he didn't know what he was doing. It wasn't him."
Before she could respond, a loud snort cut through the room. Buffy jumped as her chin was grasped and Cainen filled her view.
She stared up at his eyes with a mixture of awe and fear. Gone were the deep green orbs she had become accustomed to. In their place was an endless abyss of crimson marred slightly by deep, churning pools of black. The demonic presence completely obliterated any human characteristics. She shivered as a wave of pure malice emanated from him and washed over her.
She couldn't speak, couldn't move, could do nothing but watch and listen as his aristocratic tones invaded her psyche.
"My sister is blind. Even now, when I've ripped apart her carefully constructed self-deceits, she still believes." The word 'believes' was spat to the ground like he couldn't stand to hold it in his mouth. "But not you...Slayer, you know the evil that lurks under that pretty surface, how it consumes and rots everything it touches until you're nothing but a shell." His hand moved over her cheek in a light caress. "You've tasted the darkness...and it has tainted your soul."
A slight whimper ricocheted through the room. Buffy choked on the sound as his words dripped into her heart like acid.
"My sister, despite my efforts, will never learn such a valuable lesson and now she will have to face the consequences. Don't subject yourself to the same pain, Buffy. Purge yourself of this insanity; cleanse your spirit before it's too late. You know what you have to do. What must be done...Slayer."
Buffy's mind went utterly and completely blank. She could see Rain's mouth moving as she turned back the way she'd come but it was of no significance now. Snatches of conversation reached her ears but never fully penetrated.
"Controlling your mind."
"Not the plan."
All endless chatter was pushed to the way side as her vision focused on one purpose. Her purpose, her duty, her calling. Everything faded to the reassuring sound of her blood pumping and swelling in her veins, giving her life; the life he'd tried to steal from her.
The excess bits of leather that trapped her to a monster wound through her fingers of its own accord. There was just enough length remaining to fulfill her intention. It was simply going through the motions as the hard but malleable substance formed a noose. Her body flipped and curled over and around itself, spinning almost majestically in the air, instinctively following a dance done to music permanently ingrained into her limbs. She landed in such a way that she was in the perfect position behind her enemy and the noose slipped over the demon's head like it belonged. Coiling her fingers into a fist, she pulled the leather taught and twisted her wrists so that the vice tightened and began to pull with all the strength her muscles would produce. That done, her body took over the process and let a glimmer of her conscious mind emerge.
Buffy's vision lurched and she stared, somewhat fascinated, at the red swell of his skin as it bulged over and around the restraint. The voices were back...screaming. She could pick out the different pitches and inflections and separate them into people. Rain, Ian, even Tasha, screaming and yelling about...something. Buffy sighed, wanting to yell, add her voice to the mix, tell them to shut up, couldn't they see she was busy right now. But they wouldn't get it, they didn't understand who she was, what a Slayer was, so she held her tongue and let her mind wander, blocking out the excess as best she could.
Spike would never start yelling while she was fighting.
She mentally added that to the million and one things she could honestly say she was grateful to him for. He knew his job, knew how to help and when to back off...mostly. Little things started to filter into her consciousness, like she should remember to thank him later for staying quiet while she did her job. She briefly wondered where he was but shrugged it off immediately. He was probably getting it done. She could trust him at times like this, he'd make them be quiet. She stared at her fingers and leaned in closer to inspect one nail that desperately needed to be filed. Spike's scent filled her nose, leather, smoke and mints. A slight smile curved her mouth as the smell engulfed her. Focusing she brought his image to her mind, she'd noticed earlier the way his hair curled just so at the nape of his neck when he'd put his coat back on. His roots needed a touch up, maybe she'd offer to do it for him later...in a strictly friendship way. Cause they were friends right? Or they could be friends...right? Long ago words slammed against her, drummed up from the depths of her memory. You'll never be friends. Buffy shook it off as the body of the demon she was strangling slumped forward. With a twist and a yank, she'd pulled hard enough back, her arms stretching towards the roof, to keep it standing. Spike always helped keep her upright, even when she wanted nothing more than to sink into the dirt, he kept her standing, kept her going. A blur of color to her right pulled at her attention and she turned her head slightly to see what was up.
It was kind of funny. Cainen was kneeling over on a wailing and screaming Tasha, restraining her with the weight of his body. Meanwhile Rain and Ian had their bonds stretched between them and wrapped around Cainen's throat. It seemed like they were trying to pop his head off like a bottle cap. That in itself was not so amusing, the funny came in at the look on Cainen's face as he tried simultaneously to fend of Rain and Ian, rip the leather off his throat and hold down Tasha as they both reached for the final contents on a table; a little black ball.
Multi-tasking was not his forte.
Buffy glanced around trying to locate Spike, a slight giggle escaping her throat. He'd get the joke. Always did, always there, always helping, always...Spike. Not Angel, not Riley, not...anyone, always Spike.
A loud, inhuman wail ripped through the room and Buffy blinked, her attention immediately ensnared by the drama enfolding. Ian was holding Cainen down on top of Tasha, his head rammed into the floor beside hers and their bodies twisted together like a parody of lovers. Rain stood over them a red orb in hand, Buffy crinkled her nose trying to decipher what was happening. Before she could process the events, Rain smashed the orb down on Cainen's head. The impact of the glass smashing rushed through the room with the effect of a nuclear blast, tossing Buffy's body like a ship caught at sea. Smashing against a wall, she slid limply to the ground as wave after wave of red energy was dragged from her mind to return to its source. A pain-coated scream rent the eerie silence as Cainen's body was lifted in the air by a dizzying display of red light and black whirlpools. He regained his footing for a moment but was swiftly brought to his knees as a thousand fissures erupted on his skin, spewing black oil.
Buffy's mouth fell open in equal parts shock and disgust at the sight and she felt her stomach rebel as blood began flowing out of his eyes, mouth, nose and ears. She trembled as he clawed at his face and cringed when the maelstrom of light reorganized itself, no longer content to inflict surface injuries. There was a moment of deadly silence and then a strange rushing sound as the cloud of energy dove angrily at his body engulfing him and absorbing into the various wounds.
For a moment, Cainen found his feet. Then, his body bent back on itself. Within moments his head was thrown back and his jaw stretched wide in a scream without sound. With a subtle pop, his entire body imploded inward and disintegrated into nothing.
There was no sound in the room for many minutes., save the harsh guttural rattle of the two human occupants.
A harsh cramp finally climbed up Buffy's leg and she shifted her foot to accommodate it. Dropping her eyes to check the position of her legs, she felt her throat seize up in horror at the sight that greeted her.
Spike's upper body was lying stiff across her lap, his eyes wide and unseeing, skin ashen.
Ashen..ash...dust...oh my god...what have I done?
Buffy emitted a strangled cry as she tried furiously to free his neck. Blood dripped on his throat as she unclenched her fingers and she stared at the cuts winding around her hands from the bite of the tightly held leather. She lifted one hand to flutter over his face and watched with growing horror as his eyes slid shut.
"Spike?"
The entire roof of the cave was covered in patterns and symbols.
A blinding white light shot from Spike's eyes and mouth, so brilliant and alive it would have burned any human being who dared to look directly at it. A similar beam, this one blue, emerged from his chest. Together they rose towards the ageless marks on the ceiling, twisting and turning around each other until they became one pulsating stream. Skimming the surface of the roof, the essence of a soulless vampire touched on various symbols in a widening and distinct pattern. Moments later the lights separated and came crashing back home into the vampire waiting, on his knees, below.
Spike groaned and shook his head as a world of ache and memories invaded his senses. His gaze sharpened on the little old man lighting candles on an altar and he struggled to regain his footing.
"You've got a lot of bloody nerve." Spike cringed at the slightly whining tinge his voice box had produced and tried again. "Shoulda known not to trust magic. You bollixed up the spell, I was remembering."
The man put the finishing touches on the last of the candles and turned to face Spike a whimsical smile lighting his lips as he spoke.
"It was never meant to be permanent."
Spike's mouth dropped in shock. He spluttered incoherently for a few beats before regaining his equilibrium. "It was soddin too meant to be permanent like. I couldn't have made that more clear if I'd drawn a bloody diagram with charts. You were supposed to erase her, not bits and pieces of her. All of her! I can't be around her...ever. I need her out of my head. Out of my...I need her gone before she...before I...Don't you understand? I can't hurt her anymore."
The little shaman crossed the divide separating them and put his hand on Spike's shoulder. An expression of kindness and understanding washed over his features. Spike stared up at him, hard pressed to decide just when it was he'd hit his knees again.
"I gave you what you came for. What you chose. Exactly what you chose."
Spike shook his head in denial. "No, that's not what I asked for."
Two gnarled fingers found their way to his lips, silently shushing him. "You asked with your heart, not your voice and that is what you received."
Spike looked skyward at the patterns hovering over them, his eyes glazing with tears.
The man's voice continued but the words were unimportant at this juncture. Spike knew what he'd done and why he'd done it.
"It was all your choice, Spike. Your heart knew, even if your mind did not. There is a force greater than hate, larger than pain that binds you to her. Erasing every scrap of her existence would have killed you. She's an integral part of who you are and you of her. The best part of each other. There is no Spike without Buffy...and there is no Buffy without Spike."
"She doesn't..." Spike's voice trailed off as a million ways to finish that sentence came to mind. Need me? Deserve this?...Love me. "I'm not what she needs. I'm nothing, evil, soulless...nothing. She knows it, I know it. Just take it away again. Help me let her go...please."
The little man shrugged with a mysterious smile on his face and pushed Spike's shirt to the side, tracing the emblem on his chest. Spike stared into the fathomless orbs of black as he felt a rush of wind pick him up and toss him back through time and space. The shaman's final words echoing in his mind.
"That's not what you want. That's not what she needs."
In the cave, the smile spread into a full grin as the man's features shifted and darkened. Within moments a feminine shape stood in his place, silver skin glowing in the candle light.
Sage nodded and clapped her hands together to signify the end of her job.
"Be her center, Spike. It's what you were made for."
Buffy sat huddled in a corner, her eyes trained on the events across the room. Rain was crouched over Spike, mopping at his face and talking quietly. Ian was holding his comatose sister in his lap, staring pensively at them. Buffy wrapped her arms tighter around her legs and grimaced at the wide bruise forming on her upper arm. Rain was pretty strong when she was upset and that evidence was displayed in widening finger-shaped, purple marks. She'd tried to run, tried to escape the room, the past...everything. It wasn't the first time she'd tried to distance herself from her actions, wouldn't be the last. The only thing keeping her here now was that she had nowhere to go.
Lie to yourself all you want, Buffy, but you know damn well that you're not going to get anywhere until you know he's safe.
Buffy tuned out her inner monologue and fingered the marks on her bicep, needing something to distract her from the ache in her muscles that screamed at her to go be with him. Buffy closed her eyes and then quickly opened them as Spike's face came screaming back in full on Technicolor. The bruises she sported were nothing compared to the mottled black circle encasing Spike's throat.
Rocking slightly, she watched the frighteningly still vampire and began a slow chant under her breath. "Please let him be okay, please let him be okay."
As she watched Rain tend to Spike, her mantra picked up new phrases until finally it was taking a full minute to complete a verse. "Please let him be okay, please let him live, please don't let him hate me, please let it be all right, please just give him back, I'm so sorry, please give him back..."
One hour faded into another. The only sound in the room was Rain's quiet whispering and Buffy's choked repetition.
Buffy jumped violently as a slight cough invaded the room. She was forced to blink repeatedly, attempting to assure herself that her mind was not just projecting her wishes. Spike's body shook and bucked twice in a steady shudder and then he was sitting up, dragging a hand through his hair.
Dropping her head on her knees, she let out the sob of relief she'd been holding forever.
She dug her face into her knees, not willing to give up her spot and make the last few hours reality. They were all moving, she could hear snatches of muted conversation, rising in anger and falling to persuasion until finally there was silence. Run out of options, Buffy lifted her head and watched as a pair of shoes made their way towards her. She was somewhat surprised to find Ian's earnest gaze as he crouched in front of her.
"Rain and I are going home now. We need to make the arrangements for Sam. You can stay for the funeral if you like...with us."
Buffy nodded slightly and struggled to her feet with Ian's assistance guiding her elbow. "I'll find a hotel. I don't think Spike and I should..." Her voice trailed off as words escaped her.
She felt the grip on her arm tighten and glanced up as Ian's jaw hardened. "Spike won't be there."
Buffy stopped her forward momentum. "He doesn't have to leave because of me."
If possible Ian's face got harder and Buffy got the distinct impression she'd done something selfish.
"He's not."
That was all the answer she received as Ian dragged her out of the room before she could say another word.
Spike could feel her watching him and slammed the car trunk down with more force than was necessary.
Should have just left. Nothing here that we couldn't have picked up along the way.
Running a hand through his hair, he nodded at Ian who was settling his still-comatose sister in the back seat of the car. The residual blast from Cainen's demise had knocked her out good.
Ian stood, leaning on the open door and regarded Spike. "Where will you go?"
Spike shook his head, a rueful smile crossing his lips. "You know that's not part of the plan. Take her away, keep her away. Defeats the purpose if I have to check in with an itinerary."
Ian nodded and dropped his head. "I know...I just wish."
"Things could be different?" Spike's gaze strayed to the second floor window where a curtain twitched and dropped "Me too, mate, me too."
Pleasantries exchanged, a quick final hand shake between friends and Ian was crossing the yard to disappear into the house. Spike turned back to the car and was about to slam the back door shut when a he felt a hand on his arm. He stared down at the petite fingers circling his forearm and slowly traveled over the wrist and up until he reached her eyes. Tilting his head, he watched as she struggled to speak.
"I'm...I'm sorry."
If he had to choose what he'd thought she would say those two words would have never made the running. But they had been said and were currently floating in the air between them with the power of a caged rabid dog. He wanted to take her in arms and scream that she should never ever be sorry. Not to him, especially not to him. He couldn't though and he wouldn't. Telling her that he knew her, really knew her, would open up a long road of trials and recriminations that they'd never return from. It was better this way, the right thing to do. He had to walk away. For her, always for her.
Spike's free hand rose to the marks on his throat and then his gaze strayed to the puncture wounds on her neck.
"Both got things to be sorry for, Slayer. Don't make it better."
"No..but.."
"It's done. Let it be." Spike gently removed her hand from his arm and stepped away.
Buffy's gaze flew around, searching, until it landed on Tasha. She took a moment to scan the comatose vampire before returning her eyes to Spike. "You don't have to do this."
Spike tensed and clenched his fists in agitation. Yes I do, you naive bint. She can and she will hurt you. I'll hurt you. Can't you just let me save you in peace?
Unable to voice his thoughts, Spike leaned casually against the car and lifted a cocky brow. "Why? You volunteering?"
Buffy shook her head and accompanied it with a shiver of distaste. "No, but I don't see why it has to be you. I mean, why are you doing this? You'll be stuck with that bitch for like...ever. It's just...you're not exactly who I'd pick to make this huge sacrifice for..."
Spike turned and gripped the top of the car, fighting the urge to ram his hands through metal and twist until she lost the power to hurt him with something as simple as words. "For what, Slayer? Don't think an evil thing like me could do it? Something so impure and rotted as the likes of me would do this to help the people he cares about? To save them from pain? You don't know the first thing about me and that's never gonna change. I protect me and mine and I do it out of love. Love, Slayer, not some skewed sense of duty or penance from the burn of a cursed soul."
Buffy shook her head. "That not what I-"
Spike shoved away from the car violently and turned to face her. "Don't bother, Slayer. We both know where your opinion lies, that won't ever change. And we both know that your carefully constructed belief system wouldn't stand up to the light of day. So let's not sweat the semantics and just say that you're right. I'm doing this for purely selfish reasons. This worked out in my favour, dinnit? I save the poor misguided chit from a life of mediocrity and in return she worships the ground I walk on. Couldn't have planned this better if I'd tried, Tash here already adores me, and not for nothing, but she's a right good shag." Spike flinched as her face grew impossibly whiter. Just hold on, luv. Almost done and then you can go back to hating me good and proper like. "I bet she'd do anything I asked." Spike began to search for his smokes to give his final words that dramatic flair but realized belatedly he'd left his coat in the house. Improvising, he leaned in close so that his words ran into her ears like a caress. "It's gonna be great tasting human blood again."
Buffy lurched back like he'd hit her. "You can't...you won't."
Spike shrugged, a smirk curling his lips as his heart twisted in his chest. "Says the all-powerful, endlessly-righteous vampire Slayer. Who's gonna stop me, pet? You? Not bloody likely. We've been there and done that. V'got the scars but not that pesky urn to go with them. Wake and smell the blood, Slayer. Whatever twisted little fantasy you've got set up in your head is over. I don't want to play. I don't, bloody well, want you."
Buffy grabbed at his arm, tears glistening in her eyes. He wrenched away from her touch and strode across the lawn to retrieve his coat for the house before she could see the answering tears in his.
"Now I'm real glad I woke up in time for that."
Buffy flinched as a female voice hissed from behind. "Tasha," was her monotone reply.
One arm banded around her waist, another her throat and a face was lowered to her ear to speak. "The one and only."
Buffy grabbed the arm across her chest and flung Tasha unceremoniously over her head, in a move that clearly said 'Hello. Slayer here'. The vampire lay sprawled on the lawn for a moment as Buffy stood over her, hands on hips and face fixed in a resolute glare.
Tasha propped herself up on her elbows and returned the expression, features rippling until her eyes gleamed gold in the moonlight. "I should have killed you the second you showed up."
Buffy shrugged indifferently "You could have tried."
"Oh, make no mistake little girl, I can and I think your demise would be a charming little going away present."
Buffy cut her off with an incredulous, "Are you insane? Or really that stupid?" Before Tasha could form a response Buffy held up a palm, shaking her head. "No, don't answer, you just keep proving it. Get this through that empty mass on top of your shoulder- you've completely screwed yourself. Your family despises you and they're shipping you off, never to be seen or heard from again. You're a disease, a pathetic little secret that should be locked away that no one can bear the sight of. How's that feel," Buffy's lips turned up in a sneer, "Tash?"
Tasha's cackle was anything but pretty. "What, are you kidding me with this? I feel, pretty damn good right now. You think I give a flying fuck what my sanctimonious brother thinks? I've got everything I wanted and let's not forget, I got the guy. Way I see, I'm sitting pretty, not to mention I get that stealing the Slayer's boyfriend right out from under her nose is going down a real treat."
"He's not my-"
"Oh cut the crap. Just between us girls. It's killing you isn't it?"
"What?"
"The thought of him between my legs, screaming my name and not giving two shits about you huddled in your bed touching yourself to his memory."
Buffy scowled, turning her face away. "You're disgusting."
Tasha took the opportunity to empty her pockets of a stolen prize while the Slayer's back was turned. "I may be disgusting but I know what he needs. Something you could never hope to imagine."
Buffy swung back but her words died quietly on her lips as she stared at the black orb laying in Tasha's palms. Been wondering where that got to. She raised a brow in question and Tasha raised it higher for inspection.
"This is just the neatest little thing. Like a black hole but more...travel size. It absorbs whatever it's pointed at. Takes the demon out of the demon, the witch out of the witch and the..."
"Slayer out of the Slayer." Buffy finished with a sense of foreboding.
Tasha finally found her feet and nodded in agreement. "Mmm, only one glitch with that. Seems to destroy the host as well. Now if Sam were around I could ask him how to fix that considering he was the one who discovered this little marvel to begin with. But, as you know, he's deader than a doornail and I'm really not thinking that I want you around, Slayered up or otherwise."
Buffy instinctively took a step back as comprehension dawned. "It was you. Before, in the hall, it wasn't smashing the orb, it was this. You used that on Cainen."
Tasha laughed "Course I did. He was gonna let you kill Spike and that was never part of the plan."
Buffy retreated further until her back came up against the car. Her eyes riveted to the swirls of black erupting in the ball. "Why? You've won. What's the point?"
With a shrug, Tasha lifted the ball in her hands above her head. "The point, little girl, is that he's mine and as long as you're still breathing, some long-buried, sentimental, tiny piece of him won't forget you."
"And you think my dying is going to what? Eradicate me from his mind? It didn't work last time. And, you know, just between us girls, he will never, ever love something like you. But, hey, whatever gets you through the night."
Tasha stomped her foot like a petulant child. "He does love me, he's just confused. It's you, you're tainting him, messing up his head. You don't have the slightest clue what we have together."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I know exactly what you have and I know exactly what you don't have. You may not have noticed, what with all the manipulating and bitching, but I know what it feels like to have Spike love you. It possesses and it burns and you feel like its going to drag you right along into a place you never could have imagined existed, but it's so good that you let yourself drown. I know that you can feel the depth of that love from the merest brush of his fingers along your arm. What it means when he's so deep inside you, that you can't decide what part of your body is his and which is yours. But you know, just from his eyes, that it's only the beginning. I know what it means to have Spike love you and I know that you will never, ever begin to touch that part of him. No matter where you go or what you do, one thing will always remain the same..."
Tasha was within inches of Buffy's face, her rage almost bursting out of her skin. "What," she ground between her teeth, "is that?"
Buffy smiled as she leaned impossibly closer, her voice was soft but deadly in its clarity. "You. Will. Never. Be. Me."
Tasha's rage exploded from her throat in a cry that reverberated through the night. The sound crawled up Buffy's spine and lodged in her chest. Her lungs constricted and air was a rare commodity. Dropping to her knees, she clawed desperately at a black mist churning around her body. A silent scream formed on her lips as the first of what she knew would me many cuts sliced across her abdomen. Buffy started to throw her face skyward in a vain attempt to still the pain but was stopped mid-motion as her eyes locked with the figure standing over Tasha's shoulder.
Tasha turned her head her to see what her victim was staring at so intently. She smiled through her fangs as Spike reached for her raised wrists.
"Why Tash?," he whispered, softly.
Tasha raised her eyebrows in confusion. "For you, baby. To set you free."
"Make it stop, baby. For me. Make it stop."
Taasha let him take one wrist in his hand and turned to face him, still holding the orb aloft with the other. "Sshhh, don't worry, " she said, stroking his face. "It will be over soon and we can leave. I'll make you so happy, baby, just like you said."
Spike nodded and pulled her tight against him, pressing his cheek to hers. "I know you would, Tash. I know you would."
Tasha's features froze in confusion even as he lifted his arm in a wide arc behind her back, driving a stake deep. He grasped her chin and looked directly into her eyes. "But you never could, not really. You're not her."
Tasha's ashes drifted softly to the ground.
The orb dropped to the grass. Spike lifted one boot smashing it beneath. A wide circle of black oil spread across the ground, enveloping the ashes where they lay before sinking into the earth.
Struggling to her feet, Buffy ran towards where Spike had hit his knees in a moan of pain. Stopping halfway as her gaze followed his, she stared at the motionless house and back to the stiller vampire. Ian...Rain... "Why?"
A low, mirthless laugh strangled from his throat. His words were low but unmistakable. "You've destroyed every single part of me that makes my life worth living and still...at the end, I will always choose you. God help me, but it's always going to be you."
Buffy stumbled back from the anguish in his voice. She'd done it again, stripped him of everything until all he had left was her. Shoving a fist in her mouth to dull the scream, she backed father and farther away, until she finally turned and ran blindly for the car. Within seconds, she was peeling out of the driveway and down the street.
.