AGAINST DESTINY

Chapter Eight : Shadow Of Eyes

Buffy walked down the sidewalk with each hand carrying a plastic bag. It was around noon and the Slayer was headed for 1360 Revello Drive, returning from her weekly grocery shopping. She reached her home shortly and went up to the front porch. She set the grocery bags down on the ground and opened the door.

She entered her house with her purchases and closed the door with a light kick. The twenty one year old blonde woman then went straight to the kitchen and placed the bags on the island. She sat on one of the stools and let out a heavy sigh.

It was her day off and she was completely alone in her home. The place just felt so empty and lifeless without its occupants or visitors. Dawn was at school though she would be back in about four hours or so and train with her after she finished her homework. Xander worked everyday but he stopped by every now and then. She hadn't seen Anya that much after an averted apocalypse. Willow was in England with Giles to learn how to control her powers. Tara was dead. And Spike had been avoiding her.

It had been two weeks since she spent the night at his new apartment. The morning after, a few words were exchanged and she took off to attend to her sister. Since then, she hadn't seen Spike. Was he really staying out of her way or was she just paranoid? Either way, she missed him.

The two of them were finished but the over part of their relationship didn't really feel like it because she knew they still had feelings for each other. But now, it seemed like they really were with Spike keeping to himself and having moved on like she had told him to. The Slayer felt her heart sank. The thought of Spike with someone like that girl from Xander's not-a-wedding both saddened and infuriated her.

Spike, Spike, Spike! She couldn't get the peroxide blond man ever since 'that' night. Somehow, her thoughts always drifted to him in one way or another. With a frustrated growl, she got off the stool and went to her bed room. She strode toward her dresser and took out her jewellery box from the top drawer. The Slayer opened the box and picked up the skull ring Spike had given her on their spell induced engagement carefully and gently.

She let the object rest on her palm and stared at it with sad eyes. She had kept the ring after all these years. She didn't know why but she was glad she had. It was her only memento of the peroxide blond, the only thing she had to remember him by and their moments of bliss. She then went over to her bed. She sat down with her legs crossed and pat the skull slowly and delicately.

Buffy wished things were different. She wished that whatever she had with Spike wasn't over. She missed his affectionate gaze, his cold lips on her warms ones, the way his strong arms held her small form, the way he made love to her, and how he made her feel alive and complete.

Yet she knew things between them had to end. Whatever they had wasn't healthy. She knew she couldn't always keep running to him for comfort. She knew she couldn't depend on him forever. She had to learn how to stand on her own two feet again. Besides, she was using him to feel. Was she?

Buffy felt her heart constrict with guilt and regret. She wasn't using him. There were feelings involved. Spike loved her, no doubt about that. She knew she had feelings for him too but didn't want to explore them to find out exactly what they were. Whatever emotions she had, she kept hidden during their shag-fests though there were a few times when she had almost slipped like when they shagged under Spike's rug. She had told him he was amazing and even complimented the piece of furniture but soon ran out of his crypt when she realized she was warming up to him. So, really, she didn't actually use him. She even admitted to him that not having him hurt and it still did except ten times worse.

Buffy gave the skull ring a weak smile and clasped it over her bleeding heart. She wished things were different. If she had been a brave woman and faced her fears, maybe she would be in Spike's arms instead of seeking solace and comfort from his ring. But they weren't. He was gone.

She had lost him, all of him, now that he had moved on. Not only did she lose her lover but she had also lost a friend, a confidant, her slaying partner. Out of her friends, Spike was the only person who really understood what a Slayer was. Her friends could never comprehend what a Slayer was suppose to be. But he knew what she really was and what she had to do.

The Slayer took in a shaky breath and fought back the tears that welled in her eyes. She shifted around her bed and lay on her side with Spike's ring still tightly clasped over her aching heart. He was really gone, another man down the drain from her life. And knowing that he was just around the corner, so close yet so far, didn't make things any better for her.

"Will it get better?" she asked to no one in particular, her voice barely above whisper as a lone tear escaped her eye and flowed down her cheek slowly.

***

Spike snorted in disgust and irritation. He was seated on a barstool at the Bronze with a mug of whiskey and for the past fifteen minutes, about ten women had come and go to pester him, at least it seemed that way to him. Women. Why did they always torture him?

It was the same routine with every woman he had met so far for the night. One would come up to him, give him a small smile or a wink, and then sit next to him. She would order a drink and show off what she had to offer, in a subtle way, while she waited. There would be some talking but it would be quickly followed by seduction. Finally, she would leave in an offended and angry huff when he told her he wasn't interested. The women he had encountered weren't bad looking. They weren't just his type. Too human. Too normal. Too predictable.

They were nothing like his past lovers. Drusilla might have been insane but she was dark, deadly, mysterious, and captivating. Her ramblings about the stars and pixies both confused the Hell out of him but fascinated him at the same time. As for Buffy, she was feisty and one of a kind Slayer. She was strong, smart, resourceful, and brave. She was also unpredictable. He felt like he was playing with fire whenever he was around her. She could make him feel warm and alive but burn and hurt him at the same moment. Buffy could be punching him in the nose and then kissing him voraciously after or jumping his bones. And Harmony... well, the unicorn and France crazed vampiress was nothing more than a rebound girlfriend and was quickly tossed aside like a broken doll once Drusilla came back to Sunnydale for a reunion.

Usually, Spike didn't mind the attention but he wanted to be alone for the moment to think about life. He had finally settled in in his new apartment with everything in place. His soul and the voices in his head had been pushed to the back of his mind and didn't torture him as much. But he still had to find a job. He had contacted a few publishing houses but hadn't heard from them yet.

Spike snarled to himself. Things used to be simple. He did whatever he wanted, whenever and wherever. His life was carefree. But humanity had taken that, a part of him, away from him. Now, he needed a direction in life, a career, something to do to sustain himself until Death claimed him. Everything was complicated. No more simple blood and feed routines.

The peroxide blond stood up to leave. He had the sudden urge to kill something but his eyes caught a familiar blonde woman at the dance floor.

There she was, Buffy, dancing to the music with Dawn and Xander. He paused in his steps and drank her in. She seemed different. She was alive. The fire that had burnt out had been ignited and shone brightly. Gone was the girl that wanted to escape life, except she wasn't a girl anymore. She was a grown woman with a sister and a house to look after and bills to pay.

Spike smirked. Buffy Summers was one Hell of a woman. Aside from being stunningly beautiful, nothing could keep her down, even being ripped out of Heaven. It was one of her qualities that drew him to her like a firefly to a lamp.

Slowly, he shifted into stalky vampire mode and took small, predatory steps while his intense gaze was fixed on her. It then hit him that his actions mirrored the ones he took in the past; how he stalked her from the shadows, the way he looked at her when he had found her for the very first time.

The intensity, the lust, the longing in his blue orbs grew with each step he took. He just couldn't help himself, mesmerized the way her body swayed with the song.

He stopped behind one of the steel pillars that supported the balcony though his gaze never left her. Another step and her Slayer senses would have detected him.

He smiled as he continued to watch her dance. Right before him was the woman he loved. The one that ripped his heart to pieces when she jumped off Glory's tower. The one he saved every night in his dreams.

"She's really back," he told himself, his voice filled with awe and wonder.

He felt his heart really flutter for the first time in a hundred something years and dread and fear soon filled it after. The attraction, the pull he felt toward her was something more now. He dug himself a brand new hole on the ground and escape seemed futile.

He gaped at no one and took a step back. He had to leave. He had to get away from her before cycle began.

"Oh God, no. Please, no..." he choked out and turned to leave, his duster billowing around him in the process for a dramatic exit.

***

Buffy frowned as she looked past Dawn's shoulder. She had spotted a head of peroxide blond hair and a swirl of black. She only knew one person who had that combo; him, Spike, William The Bloody. Immediately, she stopped dancing and debated if she should go after him.

"Buffy, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Dawn asked.

"I-It's nothing," Buffy sputtered unconvincingly. "Just spotted a demon. I need... have to go after him... it."

"Do you want us to help you?" Xander offered.

"No!" she exclaimed and forced herself to look casual when her friend and sister shot her weird looks. "I mean, stay here. Be safe." With that, she went after her ex-lover and left a confused carpenter and Key.

***

There was a big commotion out on the street. A gang of tortoise demons, armed with spears, had surrounded a group of people and looked like they had been held hostage. Spike was among them but didn't quite qualify as a hostage as he fought with three of the demons.

Buffy darted forward when one of Spike's opponent came up from behind, ready to impale him with its spear. She slugged the tortoise monster on the face, sending it flying toward a fire hydrant. She then stood back to back with the peroxide blond and took a fighting stance.

"Mind if I join?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Help yourself," he replied in a neutral tone.

Buffy deflected a blow from her stomach. "So, what are these things?"

Spike kicked off a charging opponent. "Kappa, Japanese tortoise demons. They feed on blood and cucumbers and drown children."

"Really? Thought they were Ninja turtles gone bad. So, what are these things doing all the way here from Japan?"

"Don't know, Slayer."

***

Darius stood on the rooftop of the Bronze and watched the fight with his arms crossed over his chest while his duster and sweater's hood swayed in the breeze.

"Yeah... what are these things doing all the way here from Japan?" he echoed quietly and looked pensive.

He then turned to the Ahrima Demon that was perched on his shoulder. "Watch the Vampire and the Slayer. Follow them and make sure they don't spot you," he commanded.

The flying eyeball creature nodded.

"Go," he ordered.

The winged eyeball spread out its wings and took off.

Darius spun around and melted into the shadows. "I better work fast..."

***

One by one, the Kappas fell and only two of them were left. Some of the hostages have fled though a few remained, too petrified to move.

"That all you got, nancy boy?" Spike taunted as he loomed over his beaten opponent. He raised the spear he had stolen from one of the tortoise demons with both hands and brought it down to finish it off.

With all of its remaining strength, the Kappa grabbed the cowering young man beside him and used the human as a shield.

Spike was unable to stop his momentum and the spear's blade plunged into the young man's shoulder.

The young man screamed in agony as the cold metal tore through his flesh and was soon followed by Spike's when the chip kicked in.

Buffy snapped her enemy's neck quickly when she heard Spike cry out. Alarmed and suddenly more alert, she turned around and found Spike, both hands still on the spear, the weapon embedded in the young man's shoulder.

The Kappa that Spike was about to kill got up on its feet and ran way. Buffy debated between going after the demon or helping the injured hostage. Finally, it struck her that saving humans was her first priority and raced to the victim's side. He was in deep agony but fortunately, the wound wasn't mortal. She then looked up to Spike, his expression shocked and horrified and his whole body still as a lamp post.

"Pull it out," she said in a neutral tone.

Without a word, Spike did as he was told and tossed the spear aside. "I'm sorry," he whispered, sounding like a child.

The blade cutting through the human's skin, the sound it made, the young man's scream, the blood, all of it, the sight of it, destroyed the barrier he had put up between him and his soul. The guilt, the images of his victims swallowed up his sanity like a city being claimed by a tsunami.

Spike began to pace around while he ranted to himself. "Right. Wrong. Wrong manoeuvre, not hardly helpful. Christ, please help me." He paused momentarily and turned to Buffy. "HELP ME!!!" he screamed.

Buffy glared at Spike though confusion was written all over her eyes. "You're not the one who needs it." She looked at the wounded man on the ground and then turned to the other people on the street. "Somebody call an ambulance!" she yelled.

One of the hostages nodded and took out a cell phone.

The Slayer stood up and eyed the peroxide blond, who was near tears, a fist pressed to his mouth while he continued to pace and rant.

"Too much pain and damage, up close, right inside me. All the way, deep, deep inside me..." he rambled.

"Spike! Whatever you're doing..." she snapped. What she needed now was a helpful Spike.

Spike looked defensive and took a step back. "GET AWAY!!" He took a few more steps backward and ran way.

"Spike..." Buffy whispered and went after him, totally unaware of Darius' Ahrima Demon that was on her tail.

***

Buffy's Slayer instincts brought her to the park, near the carousel, where Dawn had her birthday when they just moved into Sunnydale. She couldn't see Spike anywhere but felt his presence. He wasn't too far.

Suddenly, the peroxide blond stepped out of the darkness and stood behind one of the horses in the merry-go-around.

"I lost..." he choked out. "I played the games. All of them. And I lost. I always lose. Never win. Never fit."

Buffy took a tentative step forward and looked at him for what it seemed to be an eternity, her eyes filled with longing and a hint of love, like a woman who had found her long, lost lover. She then switched to Slayer mode once she noticed that his black T-shirt was ripped to shreds, his chest scarred and bleeding slightly. "No more mind games, Spike."

"No more mind games..." he repeated sadly and looked away. "No more mind."

The Slayer was on the carousel now and reached out with her hand to touch his wounded chest. "Tell me what happened to you. ALL of it."

Spike backed away and covered himself with his duster as if he was naked. "Hey, hey! No touching! Am I flesh? Am I flesh to you? Feed on flesh. My flesh. Nothing else. Not a spark. Oh, fine. Flesh, then. Solid through. Get it hard, service the girl." He looked down at his groin and began to unbutton his pants.

"NO!" Buffy exclaimed. "Stop it. What the Hell are you doing?"

He tilted his head a bit and knit his eyebrows. "Right. Girl doesn't want to be serviced. Because there's no spark," he said, his voice almost monotone.

"Spike, tell me what happened. What did you do to yourself?" she asked again, her voice near desperation.

He tensed. He didn't want to tell her, not like this, but whatever was left of his sanity told him it didn't matter anymore so he decided he would. "I lost," he smiled weakly.

"Lost what?!" Buffy looked impatient. She couldn't figure out his ramblings. He almost sounded like Drusilla. She wondered if all vampires talked like that when they went insane.

He disappeared into the shadows and walked around the ride. "Games. Lost every single one of them. Never fit. Not in the past, not now, never will. So cold... in the dark. With them. Had no one but them. Family, we were. But they left me too. I had no one... no one at all. Alone in the shadows..." he trailed off.

She searched for him frantically but found it useless and settled for tracing his footsteps to tell where he was.

"...until I met you..." he continued and when he spoke again, his voice was choked with raw emotions. "Wanted to be in the light, all warm and alive. But I failed. Failed miserably and let the girl die. But you, the other you came out of the Earth and fed on my flesh. Played her games, I did. Did what she wanted. Everything. But the last one went wrong. It wasn't part of the plan... it wasn't in order."

"What plan?"

"To move on. Did what you wanted but it put the Spark in me. It's in here, with me, all the time. Now all it does is burn." Spike appeared behind her and she spun around to face him. He pointed to the side of his head and looked guilty, confused, lost, and pained, all at the same time. "Everyone's in here, talking. Everything I did, everyone I... and him... and it... the other. The thing beneath... beneath you. It's here too. Everybody. They all just tell me go. Go... to Hell."

"Your soul... you got it back." The puzzle pieces in Buffy's head put themselves together and the revelation hit her like a ton of bricks.

"That and the whole humanity rot." Spike nodded sadly.

"How?" She shook her head though she didn't know if she did it to deny what he had just told her or to wake herself up if she was in a nightmare.

"Told you, I played the game wrong," he told her in a pleading tone, willing her to believe him. "Always seem to. Never get it right. Always a mess."

"The spell..." she whispered and the pair of tears that rolled down her cheeks went unnoticed. What were the tears for? She didn't know or didn't want to, still unable to take in his news.

"...always a mess..." he mumbled. "Never seem to ever rest. Never." He advanced forward so there was just a foot of space between them. "So tired. Just want to lay down and rest forever." He reached inside his coat and produced a knife. He took her right hand and placed the weapon on her palm. "Let me rest. Kill me."