AN: Having fun yet? Please, feel free to send me ideas, suggestions, or any other kind of positive feedback. And now, back to the story….
Disclaimer: All characters belong to UPN, Mutant Enemy, and the all-powerful Joss.
Talking To Myself
In all his years, he'd seen many things. Fought many beings. Been both the villain and the hero. And yet, he had never been as scared as he was now, of the idea of being lost in Canada.
The map did him little good. It showed the basic territories, marked good fishing spots, and reminded the reader where the roads ended. And that was about it. No helpful X as to where he was. Not even a dot.
He explored the rest of the campsite, adding a pair of broken binoculars and a spoon to his collection of useless things. Satisfied, he continued on.
I must look bloody ridiculous, he thought to himself. He could feel the sun, sneaking up behind him. He looked up at the trees. Hypothetically, he could keep walking in their shadows.
Wearily, he trudged on. The sun rose. It grew warm. The hours ebbed together in infinite boredom. At one point he looked up, startled to realize he had tripped and was sitting on the forest floor. Have to stay focused. Have to get back.
Back to what? A voice in the back of his head taunted. You think she needs you?
She does, he argued. She loved me.
She lied…It sang. She doesn't love you….she could never love you….
"SHUT UP!" Spike clutched his head between his hands, rocking back and forth slightly.
She doesn't need you….She doesn't need you….
"YES. SHE. DOES." He stood up. Walked faster. He had to get back.
She doesn't love you…..
He had to know.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later that day, Buffy wandered the roads of England. Tomorrow, she would go back home. But for now, she was free to see the sights.
Within an hour, she had confused herself beyond all reason in the multiple back streets of London. They all twisted and curved, and this map was wrong…. She turned into an alley. The shadows reminded her of something. She slowed her pace to look around. A tavern there. A parked taxi. She closed her eyes, letting her imagination guide her. If I walk up here, she mused, I will come out on a long, winding street. She felt herself walk back into the light. The drive will be up a way, on the right.
She opened her eyes. The alley turned, opening to a long, winding street. She was struck with the most ironic sense of déjà vu. She knew this. Up ahead, on her right, she could see gates to an old home. She approached them cautiously. Placed a hand upon the brick. Why did she know this?
Something about the bricks under her hand felt strange. She lifted it, looking. Something was carved into them. Letters. They were so worn she could barely make it out. She tried to trace the inscription with a finger.
"W…C…" She let her hand rest against the initials, pausing. And then she knew what they meant. She recoiled, looking upon the house in horror. She turned abruptly, crashing into an innocent passerby. Stumbling, she ran back to the alley. The alley. Oh, God. She kept running. She ran until she was completely exhausted, gasping for breath. She leaned up against a building, trying to regain her sanity. What's the matter with me?
***It took him hours, but in the end he thought his craftsmanship was quite good. True, his pocketknife was scratched. Oh well. Ten-year-old William traced his initials with a finger once more before running back into the house.***
Buffy shook her head. But he wouldn't let it clear. She turned, looking back down the street from which she came. What do you want from me?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This wasn't working. He was walking in circles again. He knew this for a fact; he had whipped his blood on that tree three times now. He redirected his path in a different direction, determined. He was going to get out of this damn forest if it was the last thing he did.
He had never been one for being around people. Preferred his space. But now, he couldn't concentrate. He needed someone to keep him grounded.
His eyes scanned the area, looking for anything to indicate he was going the right direction. "Right, Spike, you're going to find a random sign telling you exactly where you bloody are."
"Yup." He nodded his head.
"You are such a wanker." He frowned to himself. "No I'm not."
"Then why are you talking to yourself?" He blinked. "Good point." He rounded a bend, coming across a stream. Quite pleased with himself, he dropped down to his knees to drink. The water felt cold and refreshing as it slid down his throat. After quenching his thirst, he set about cleaning himself up. Always careful of the sunlight that hit the other side of the stream.
The sun would set again soon. Then maybe he could try to get out of these woods. He stayed at the stream, absentmindedly letting the water wash over his foot as he waited. Just then, a bird flew out of the trees. Spike, being lost in thought, didn't notice until it nearly flew into him. He started, falling off his perch and into the water.
SPLASHSlowly, he pulled himself up. And noticed he was lying in the sunlight. While swearing various profanities, he started to scramble back to his shadows. A moment later, he noted the fact he wasn't bursting into flame.
Spike looked up at the sun for the first time in over two hundred years. "Well, this is interesting."
