Title: Grave Flower

Author: Bianca Masiello

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, FX, UPN, Mutant Enemy, blah blah. we know the drill.

Setting/Author's Notes: Set at the end of Sleeper (Sleeper's set after Conversations With Dead People where Will sees the First and Dawn sees her mom. It is the episode that deals with Spike killing again. Buffy goes to the house to find all the people Spike sired. You'll recall it once you start reading. Human memories are beautiful that way.) Twist: Anya and Xander got married! Also, Tara's wound wasn't fatal, so she lived. This means Willow never got all evil veiny and tried to end the world (though almost losing Tara made Willow listen to her friends and she cut way back on her magic). I had to cut out some of the Scoobie angst to deal with the sadness and fun I was going to brew up. We all know that Sleeper also deals with Giles being all in the way of an axe, well, forget it.

Walking slow along the path She dare not turn or look back The child like moon's eerie glow The light a place she dare not go May all the dark things hide and cower As she walks the path with her grave flower -Bianca Masiello

Synopsis: Set at the end of Sleeper, what if Spike had gone through with the First's plans? Touch of AU: Tara's alive, and Xand and Anya got hitched. Spuffy but tasteful in a dark way.

------

That Look of Peace

She hesitated just outside the door. It was half open, the cold air filtering out onto the street, cutting right through the warm spring night. She shivered. She stepped inside and took a sidelong glance at the thermostat. The dial was resting just above 35 degrees.

All of her slayer senses were screaming. Good God, Buffy. What are you doing here?! This went against everything she'd learned as Giles' charge. But still, she walked to the basement door that was also left thoughtlessly open.

Her senses reeled, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something here was terribly wrong. The house reverberated with death and an evil that was drawn to the mortal warmth of her skin, staining her. It was almost as though she could taste the bitter black fog in the back of her throat, but the Slayer knew there was nothing of the sort there. She was imagining it.

Spike must have heard her because he called up the basement stairs, "Down here." Buffy pulled open the door and moved onto the platform wearily. That dark sensation wouldn't leave her and her slayer senses pulled at her to be more alert and level headed.

"You won't come down? I understand. It's a risky proposition." He spoke, drawing her attention back to the vampire. Buffy watched as Spike's eyes darted down to something in front of him on the steps. Though her eyes were blind to the apparition.

He saw it just fine, blocking his way, "There's an order. The slayer's not in order. But it can't hurt to play. Get your claws in the mouse, you know?" The figure was Spike for all intensive purposes, other than it really wasn't.

"You are not here." Spike said in a low voice, ambling away from the bottom of the steps. As if she'd made up her mind, Buffy started down the steps. She seemed strong and at the same time, her heart was with Spike.

"All right. What do you want to show me?" She asked. The Slayer stepped down onto the dirt floor next to him. He glanced at her then started slowly for the other end of the basement.

"I've been remembering." He started weakly, "The girl. I walked her home. The one you saw. And the one before that. And I think I killed her. And I think I-I think I killed the lady who lived here. And there might be others."

He was prepared for the shock in her voice. He was just as horrified with himself and was ready to take on her blame and disgust.

"Oh, my God." She said staggered.

The blond vampire moved to the center of the room littered with shallow graves to the point where she was forced to follow him on a narrow path. "Here. I-I think I buried them here."

"Spike, why?" she questioned. Her curiosity was dead, this, she needed to know.

"Well, I don't know, do I? I don't even know how. Shouldn't be able-," His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on the ghost of himself pacing behind them near the stairs.

"Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard the fair maid sing in the valley down below. Oh, don't deceive me. Oh never leave me." Casually slides himself up onto the stairs, facing Spike, "How could you use a poor maid so?" The vision sang, it's familiar blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"What?" The Slayer tried to recall his attention, "What is it?" she paused, starting to worry, "Spike!"

With wide eyes, Buffy watched as Spike vamped out. With a roar, he turned on her. She reached into her coat in the blink of an eye and retrieved her stake. Spike saw it as soon as she's retrieved it and twisted it out of her hand. The cold blue eye'd vampire slung the wood behind him into a row of bottles that shattered with a teeth clenching smash.

She reacted fast as he came at her again. Buffy ducked under his charge and used his momentum against him, throwing Spike a few feet away in the direction of the lost stake. "What are you doing?" she demanded, frightened.

Before the Slayer had another moment to react, Spike was up again. A shard of glass shimmered in his hand. He came at her and wielded the edge at her with deadly accuracy, slicing through the upper part of her left arm.

"Oh!" Buffy ducked out of his way before he could take a second swipe. He came back and she turned to him kicking the glass from his hand. He quickly went to punch her jaw as she landed, but she was able to block him. She reached forward and gave him a good shove. Spike tumbled backwards to the ground.

"Spike, listen to me, you don't want to do this." She tried to say as he got back up. Spike pushed her out of his way.

"And it's just about to get fun." The spectating presence chuckled.

The shallow graves moaned unnaturally as the first few hands dug out from under the dirt. The dead were up, and fast, their hungry gold eyes fixed on the Slayer.

Glancing around at the fresh vampires, the reality of the situation made her sick "Oh, God!"

Spike watched as his childe rose. They startled him; his soul anyway, was mortified. But his demon was laughing inside him, so very pleased with tantalizing aroma of fear rolling off the golden haired Slayer in waves.

"You know what I want you to do." He said quietly, only to Spike. The soulful vampire wanted to shake his head no. To rip the thing off the stairs and smash it's head in so the talking, the screaming, and the singing would just stop.

It took only a minute for his army to overpower her. She struggled against their hold, but there were just too many and she just wasn't prepared.

"They're waiting for you. Take her, taste her, make her weak." the William the Bloody look-alike whispered, and Spike couldn't help but listen. He rose from the corner he'd crumpled into and walked towards Buffy.

As he neared her, the Slayer couldn't help see the change in his eyes. With menacing pleasure, he stepped up to her. He tilted his head slightly, intrigued, like she'd noticed him do a hundred times before, but never like this.

"Spike, no!" She pleaded, bending her knees, trying to sink out of his reach, but the vampires held her still, captive. He lowered his face close to hers, moving his head from one side of her neck, over to the left. She could feel his cool, even breath on the nape of her neck.

Buffy felt his features twist to their demon form. And she closed her eyes tight, waiting.

"She'll make you whole again," The First egged him on with promises. Spike rolled the thought around in his hazy head, though utterly unable to focus.

Buffy heard the demon rattle deep with in his chest as he opened his mouth wide and bit down on her jugular. She cried out, her eyes shot open as his cold teeth penetrated agonizingly into her like a hot knife through butter, except with a more satisfying crunch. And he drank of her, deeply.

She remembered the sensation well. Her blood, her warm life, draining away. But it was her choice before. She did it to save the man she loved. It wasn't something she regretted.

Her thoughts were drowned out by the sensation. She heard Spike drinking her blood. She felt her heart growing faint. The Slayer could barely stand on her own. Spike slid an arm around her waist and lifted her away from the other vampires, who quietly and calmly left the basement.

He finally pulled back, after what seemed like an eternity, his now human mouth dripping with the Slayer's blood. Why wasn't she dead? She looked up into his deep blue eyes. They were clearer now, almost completely free of rage and confusion. Her head tilted back lightly, weakly. Spike let his fingers dip into her hair as he lifted her head. That's when he leaned in to kiss her.

Not having the strength left to fight him. She merely struggled to take her last breaths, hot tears rolling out of the corner of her eyes. This is it. The end. Buffy felt his lips press against hers and she couldn't help remember Spike's words about the last two Slayers he'd killed. They had a look of peace on their faces at death. She would never know that peace.

She only tasted his blood in her mouth as it slipped down the back of her throat. So cold and metallic. He'd bitten into his own lip. Spike poisoned her.

------