A Slayer Lost (7/11: Post-Mortem)
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
It only takes Spike a few minutes to shower, washing the blood and sweat and cum off of himself as well. He grabs the first T-shirt and pair of jeans he sees - doesn't matter, they're all black anyway - and pulls them on, intent on doing what he knows he has to do. He lets one hand brush against the lid of the sarcophagus on his way out. Grabbing his trusty burlap sack, he throws it over his head and runs at full speed towards the Magic Box.
As he bursts through the door, skin red and smoking, quite a few customers glance up from their purchases to give him strange looks. Anya glares at him from behind the register.
"Spike!" she hisses as he approaches, removing the blanket. "Get out! You're scaring the customers!" Any other time, he would have found this display amusing. But today, he had other things on his mind.
"It's Buffy," he pants, still slightly out of breath. Anya looks him in the eye, and sees the urgency there. In an uncharacteristic gesture, she announces that the store is closing early. Spike watches from his place at the counter as she hurriedly ushers them out. When the last patron is outside, she slams and locks the door, turning to him with wild, frightened eyes. This is the first time, he realizes, that he's ever seen her truly scared.
"I'll call the others," he volunteers, but she shakes her head.
"They're in the back," she says.
"Right, then. Shall we?" he offers out his arm for support, as she looks as if she's about to collapse, but she brushes past him without a word or acknowledgement of his attempted kindness. Shrugging, because he's used to things being this way, he follows her into the newly-installed training room.
Red and the Whelp are poring over something on her computer screen, while Little Bit sits nearby, twiddling her thumbs. They all look up immediately when the doors open, and Spike realizes the impact that his news, however fabricated, is going to have on them. They haven't seen her for three days and already they're tense and jumpy, dark circles under their eyes. What will they do without her for any longer than this? Not to mention the fact that they've just gotten her back to suddenly lose her all over again...he feels bad, all of the sudden, but knows that Buffy will make him more undead than he already is if she finds that he chickened out.
"What is it? Did you find something? Where is she?" Red exclaims. Anya moves to stand in front of her fiancee, who places a comforting hand on her shoulder that's as much for her benefit as it is for his. Little Bit just looks at him with wide, innocent eyes; feelings of guilt multiply a thousand-fold as all eyes in the room peer expectantly into his.
"Buffy, ah - she..." He curses himself silently - Should've had this prepared ahead of time, you wanker. "She ran into a gang of vamps. Big 'uns, they were - lots. They, uh...they caught her by surprise, and...they got her."
"Oh my god, did they...did they bite her?" Red asks. He nods numbly. She seems to be the only one able to talk: Little bit bursts into tears at the nod, Anya wrings her hands, and the Whelp just glares.
"What happened?" Red asks hesitantly, as if afraid to find out. He doesn't blame her.
"They dragged her back into their little lair," he continues, completely making this up as he goes along. "It's a ways off, outside of town - had a time findin' it, I did - had to rely on smell only. By the time I found it, I was too late - they'd kept her unconscious, forced her to drink their blood. Took out a fair number of 'em, but...I couldn't save her. When she woke up, she had no idea what had happened. I had to tell her the whole story. And then..."
"Then she begged you to kill her," Little Bit sums up. Gotta hand it to the kid, he thinks. She's growin' up fast.
"Yeah," he confirms. There's a moment of silence. He sincerely hopes she thanks him for this when she wakes up - he's earned it. He looks around for something he can do to make this all better and sees Anya.
"You allright, ducks?" he asks. She shakes her head vehemently.
"No, I'm not allright!" she exclaims. "How can you all just *stand* there?! Buffy's *dead*! Don't you remember what happened last time? She's the Slayer; the strong one. What are we supposed to do without her? Without the Buffybot? Whose going to patrol? Willow doesn't have magic anymore, Xander and I are barely of any help at all, and we can't expect Spike to do it all himself. And...and...what about the new Slayer? What if she turns out to be another nut job like Faith? What if she tries to kill us all in our sleep? What if-"
The Whelp holds out his arms and pulls her to his chest. She stops ranting and buries her head in is shoulder, sobbing. Spike clears his throat. Now's not exactly the best time to break the news, but...
"Actually, uh...I'm not staying." All eyes turn towards him once again. "Yeah," he continues. "I, uh...yeah. I gotta get outta here."
"It's okay," Red says softly. "We understand. But...thanks for sticking around the last time." Spike smiles fondly. He'll miss her. And Nibblet, of course. And Anyanka wasn't too bad, either. Hell, he'll probably miss everyone except for Harris.
"What's wrong, Spike? Can't handle the guilt?" the Whelp pipes up, as if on cue, speaking for the first time since he's arrived. Now all eyes turn to him. "What?!" he exclaims, defensive. "You're trying to tell me he didn't enjoy it? Putting a stake through the Slayer? The Slayer who rejected him over and over again? Maybe if he'd moved a little bit faster; maybe if he'd tried a little bit harder; maybe Buffy would still be here."
"Xander!" Anya, Dawn, and Willow exclaim in tandem. At the same time, Spike lunges forward. This is too much; whether she's actually dead or not, he can't believe that this git would dare accuse him of not really loving her. Well, he can, actually - this *is* Xander Harris, after all. But still, he grabs the youth by the throat and slams his back up against a nearby wall. He looks around with wide, frightened eyes as Spike's grip on his throat tightens to where he's just teetering on the edge of strangling the boy.
"Now listen here, Harris," he growls. "I'll not have you talking like that. Not now, not ever. I love Buffy. You can try to disprove and cheapen it all you want, but the truth still stands that I love that girl more than I love my own bloody unlife. I always will love her. Do you understand?"
He nods meekly, struggling to breathe. "Yes, sir. Understood," he manages to make out. Spike glares silently at him for another few seconds, then pull back his hand. The Whelp crashes to the floor in an uncoordinated heap, coughing and panting and wheezing and gasping for breath. With a slight smirk, Spike turns and exits the store, noting on the way that no one rushes to the Whelp's aide.
He makes it to the outside canopy, fussing with his blanket, before all three women are at his side.
"Are you leaving now?" Dawn asks.
"Yeah."
"Well...we could go back to your crypt with you," she suggests eagerly. "You know - help you pack, see you off?"
"No," he insists, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Why don't we just say goodbye here so I can be on my merry way." She nods. With a smile overflowing with regret, he pulls the girls's sleight frame into his arms.
"Take care of yourself, Bit," he murmurs into her hair. She hugs him so tight he's not sure if she'll ever let go. But finally, she does, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Anya's next in line. He hugs her, somewhat awkwardly.
"It'll be allright," he assures her. "You four can handle it. And Giles is just a continent away should you get yourselves in a jam. You just concentrate on keeping Harris in line." She smiles, and he knows that she will be allright - she's stringer than she gives herself credit for.
And finally, the witch. He's a bit unsure of what to do - he knows she's got somewhat of mixed feelings about him. But he doesn't have to wait for very long - she launches herself into his arms. When she finally releases him, she smiles.
"What was that for?" He asks, stunned.
"For everything," she says. "Regardless of what happened in the past, you've been an important part of this team for the last two years. I appreciate that - we *all* do. Even if some of us don't exactly know how to show it. He blinks, feeling a tear well up in each eye. Hurriedly, he blinks them back.
"I'm counting on you, Red," he tells her. "To take care of 'em all." She nods. "You're the only one in the lot of 'em I trust enough. Anya needs you, Dawn needs you, and the Whelp needs all the help he can possibly get from anyone. You've gotta be there for them. You quit magic cold turkey all by yourself; this should be a cinch."
He takes a step back, mere centimeters away from the sun, and looks at all of them for what could possibly be the last time. He starts to turn away, before his tear ducts get the better of him.
"Spike!" Nibblet calls. He turns back around to see her barrelling towards him, arms outstretched. He pulls her to his chest once again. Of all of them, he knows he'll undoubtedly miss her the most. No matter what the circumstances, she's never once doubted him or looked down upon him.
"I love you, Nibblet," he murmurs softly. Finally he reaches he reaches back to place a gentle kiss first on her forehead, then on her cheek, then on her upturned lips; her first. Something to always remember him by.
Then he does turn, pulling the blanket over his head as a shield against the scorching sunlight.
He only makes it about fifty feet before the tears begin to fall.
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
~*~
It only takes Spike a few minutes to shower, washing the blood and sweat and cum off of himself as well. He grabs the first T-shirt and pair of jeans he sees - doesn't matter, they're all black anyway - and pulls them on, intent on doing what he knows he has to do. He lets one hand brush against the lid of the sarcophagus on his way out. Grabbing his trusty burlap sack, he throws it over his head and runs at full speed towards the Magic Box.
As he bursts through the door, skin red and smoking, quite a few customers glance up from their purchases to give him strange looks. Anya glares at him from behind the register.
"Spike!" she hisses as he approaches, removing the blanket. "Get out! You're scaring the customers!" Any other time, he would have found this display amusing. But today, he had other things on his mind.
"It's Buffy," he pants, still slightly out of breath. Anya looks him in the eye, and sees the urgency there. In an uncharacteristic gesture, she announces that the store is closing early. Spike watches from his place at the counter as she hurriedly ushers them out. When the last patron is outside, she slams and locks the door, turning to him with wild, frightened eyes. This is the first time, he realizes, that he's ever seen her truly scared.
"I'll call the others," he volunteers, but she shakes her head.
"They're in the back," she says.
"Right, then. Shall we?" he offers out his arm for support, as she looks as if she's about to collapse, but she brushes past him without a word or acknowledgement of his attempted kindness. Shrugging, because he's used to things being this way, he follows her into the newly-installed training room.
Red and the Whelp are poring over something on her computer screen, while Little Bit sits nearby, twiddling her thumbs. They all look up immediately when the doors open, and Spike realizes the impact that his news, however fabricated, is going to have on them. They haven't seen her for three days and already they're tense and jumpy, dark circles under their eyes. What will they do without her for any longer than this? Not to mention the fact that they've just gotten her back to suddenly lose her all over again...he feels bad, all of the sudden, but knows that Buffy will make him more undead than he already is if she finds that he chickened out.
"What is it? Did you find something? Where is she?" Red exclaims. Anya moves to stand in front of her fiancee, who places a comforting hand on her shoulder that's as much for her benefit as it is for his. Little Bit just looks at him with wide, innocent eyes; feelings of guilt multiply a thousand-fold as all eyes in the room peer expectantly into his.
"Buffy, ah - she..." He curses himself silently - Should've had this prepared ahead of time, you wanker. "She ran into a gang of vamps. Big 'uns, they were - lots. They, uh...they caught her by surprise, and...they got her."
"Oh my god, did they...did they bite her?" Red asks. He nods numbly. She seems to be the only one able to talk: Little bit bursts into tears at the nod, Anya wrings her hands, and the Whelp just glares.
"What happened?" Red asks hesitantly, as if afraid to find out. He doesn't blame her.
"They dragged her back into their little lair," he continues, completely making this up as he goes along. "It's a ways off, outside of town - had a time findin' it, I did - had to rely on smell only. By the time I found it, I was too late - they'd kept her unconscious, forced her to drink their blood. Took out a fair number of 'em, but...I couldn't save her. When she woke up, she had no idea what had happened. I had to tell her the whole story. And then..."
"Then she begged you to kill her," Little Bit sums up. Gotta hand it to the kid, he thinks. She's growin' up fast.
"Yeah," he confirms. There's a moment of silence. He sincerely hopes she thanks him for this when she wakes up - he's earned it. He looks around for something he can do to make this all better and sees Anya.
"You allright, ducks?" he asks. She shakes her head vehemently.
"No, I'm not allright!" she exclaims. "How can you all just *stand* there?! Buffy's *dead*! Don't you remember what happened last time? She's the Slayer; the strong one. What are we supposed to do without her? Without the Buffybot? Whose going to patrol? Willow doesn't have magic anymore, Xander and I are barely of any help at all, and we can't expect Spike to do it all himself. And...and...what about the new Slayer? What if she turns out to be another nut job like Faith? What if she tries to kill us all in our sleep? What if-"
The Whelp holds out his arms and pulls her to his chest. She stops ranting and buries her head in is shoulder, sobbing. Spike clears his throat. Now's not exactly the best time to break the news, but...
"Actually, uh...I'm not staying." All eyes turn towards him once again. "Yeah," he continues. "I, uh...yeah. I gotta get outta here."
"It's okay," Red says softly. "We understand. But...thanks for sticking around the last time." Spike smiles fondly. He'll miss her. And Nibblet, of course. And Anyanka wasn't too bad, either. Hell, he'll probably miss everyone except for Harris.
"What's wrong, Spike? Can't handle the guilt?" the Whelp pipes up, as if on cue, speaking for the first time since he's arrived. Now all eyes turn to him. "What?!" he exclaims, defensive. "You're trying to tell me he didn't enjoy it? Putting a stake through the Slayer? The Slayer who rejected him over and over again? Maybe if he'd moved a little bit faster; maybe if he'd tried a little bit harder; maybe Buffy would still be here."
"Xander!" Anya, Dawn, and Willow exclaim in tandem. At the same time, Spike lunges forward. This is too much; whether she's actually dead or not, he can't believe that this git would dare accuse him of not really loving her. Well, he can, actually - this *is* Xander Harris, after all. But still, he grabs the youth by the throat and slams his back up against a nearby wall. He looks around with wide, frightened eyes as Spike's grip on his throat tightens to where he's just teetering on the edge of strangling the boy.
"Now listen here, Harris," he growls. "I'll not have you talking like that. Not now, not ever. I love Buffy. You can try to disprove and cheapen it all you want, but the truth still stands that I love that girl more than I love my own bloody unlife. I always will love her. Do you understand?"
He nods meekly, struggling to breathe. "Yes, sir. Understood," he manages to make out. Spike glares silently at him for another few seconds, then pull back his hand. The Whelp crashes to the floor in an uncoordinated heap, coughing and panting and wheezing and gasping for breath. With a slight smirk, Spike turns and exits the store, noting on the way that no one rushes to the Whelp's aide.
He makes it to the outside canopy, fussing with his blanket, before all three women are at his side.
"Are you leaving now?" Dawn asks.
"Yeah."
"Well...we could go back to your crypt with you," she suggests eagerly. "You know - help you pack, see you off?"
"No," he insists, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "Why don't we just say goodbye here so I can be on my merry way." She nods. With a smile overflowing with regret, he pulls the girls's sleight frame into his arms.
"Take care of yourself, Bit," he murmurs into her hair. She hugs him so tight he's not sure if she'll ever let go. But finally, she does, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Anya's next in line. He hugs her, somewhat awkwardly.
"It'll be allright," he assures her. "You four can handle it. And Giles is just a continent away should you get yourselves in a jam. You just concentrate on keeping Harris in line." She smiles, and he knows that she will be allright - she's stringer than she gives herself credit for.
And finally, the witch. He's a bit unsure of what to do - he knows she's got somewhat of mixed feelings about him. But he doesn't have to wait for very long - she launches herself into his arms. When she finally releases him, she smiles.
"What was that for?" He asks, stunned.
"For everything," she says. "Regardless of what happened in the past, you've been an important part of this team for the last two years. I appreciate that - we *all* do. Even if some of us don't exactly know how to show it. He blinks, feeling a tear well up in each eye. Hurriedly, he blinks them back.
"I'm counting on you, Red," he tells her. "To take care of 'em all." She nods. "You're the only one in the lot of 'em I trust enough. Anya needs you, Dawn needs you, and the Whelp needs all the help he can possibly get from anyone. You've gotta be there for them. You quit magic cold turkey all by yourself; this should be a cinch."
He takes a step back, mere centimeters away from the sun, and looks at all of them for what could possibly be the last time. He starts to turn away, before his tear ducts get the better of him.
"Spike!" Nibblet calls. He turns back around to see her barrelling towards him, arms outstretched. He pulls her to his chest once again. Of all of them, he knows he'll undoubtedly miss her the most. No matter what the circumstances, she's never once doubted him or looked down upon him.
"I love you, Nibblet," he murmurs softly. Finally he reaches he reaches back to place a gentle kiss first on her forehead, then on her cheek, then on her upturned lips; her first. Something to always remember him by.
Then he does turn, pulling the blanket over his head as a shield against the scorching sunlight.
He only makes it about fifty feet before the tears begin to fall.
