Severed Ties

Chapter 3

Slayer Dreams All Around

May 4th, 2002

3:22 a.m.

Pain. That was the first thing she noticed. Pure, unadulterated pain. It licked at the bare expanse of her legs, crawling past her thigh and burrowing into her gut. She wanted to scream but her mouth refused to open. Even so, clutching at the searing agony moving towards her heart, however fruitless, would have been something. But that, as well, was pointless. Her body was frozen in place and all she could do was take the pain with the frightening knowledge that this was just the beginning.

"It will be your end," a voice whispered seductively in her ear. Unwelcome hands groped her body and tears streamed down her cheeks as the fingers violated her in every conceivable way. "Do not cry," the voice tried to soothe her though the malice behind its words was tangible. "I want you," she cried when something plunged into her core. Claws dug into her shoulders as another hand grabbed at her brunette locks roughly. As she screamed in her mind, she heard the voice above her laugh in her ear scornfully.

"You wanted to be a hero," it seethed, "thought you could stop me. You may have banished me here but what for? To be mine for all eternity? I may suffer but you, dear Faith," he punctuated her name with a thrust that almost tore her in half, "will be mine forever. And no one will come to save you…"

Faith screamed and her eyes bulged as her body was ripped in two. But as she took in what was before her eyes, she found that she was alone and the pain was gone. Glancing around her surroundings, Faith was surprised at the familiarity of it all. The modern designs, the coolness of the air…when she saw the chains near the door, she knew where she was.

"Angel," she whispered, remembering this as his apartment. She had come to him more than once here, once to seduce and once to kill. She had failed both times, thanks to the blonde bombshell. Buffy.

"She's not here now," a voice called behind her and Faith whirled around. A figure, cloaked in shadow, stared at her. He was tall with broad shoulders and was adorned in a leather tunic and pants, and boots that ended just below the knees. Around his shoulders was a cape that alternated between snaking its way around his legs to billowing out behind him. His hands were clasped behind his back and though his face remained shadowed, Faith could almost feel the twisted smile and she shuddered.

"Who are you?" she asked and crouched in a defensive stance.

"Why Faith," the figure's voice remarked condescendingly, "you don't remember my voice? I am deeply hurt."

Faith's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. The voice did sound eerily familiar, just like the apartment had and, come to think of it, the figure standing in the shadows.

"Angel?" She whispered and took two steps towards the darkness where the figure loomed.

The figure cocked his head to the side and Faith closed the distance even further. She was only a handful of steps away when he stepped out of the light.

Eyes that she had once remembered as deeply brown, were crimson twinkles that gleamed at her with an evil she would never have thought existed.

"Angel?" Faith instinctively took a step back but the figure's hand shot out, freezing her in place.

"Angel?" He mimicked her, his voice a twisted mixture of someone close to her and something evil—something beyond evil. "Sorry, baby, but I don't go by that name anymore. Never really did like it. William was right, quite a poof name that was."

The fear that trickled down her spine now flooded through her veins and Faith couldn't keep her voice from shaking when she realized who it was. "Angelus."

"Please," he scoffed. "Angelus? Don't make me laugh." His hand traced the air, outlining the curves of her body as if he was touching her and with each ministration of her hand, Faith felt her blood being pulled in that direction. It was very uncomfortable yet had not reached the painful stage.

"No, baby, Angelus I'm not. And when I'm done with you, spending eternity with M'shi-Dar will be the least of your worries." And with no more preambles, the figure squeezed his hand into a fist and Faith screamed as she felt her heart crushed as if it was nothing more than a wad of paper.

As blackness overtook her, she heard the mocking voice call to her. "I wield the Sword of Justice—not Michael nor the Macedonian Conqueror who thinks he is more. He will not be able to help you. Take comfort that you will die together…you all will…"

Faith bolted up, her face twisted in silent agony. Her breaths came in jagged gasps as her left hand clutched her chest desperately as her mind relived the final images of her nightmare.

Slayer dream, the lucid part of her mind observed. Faith shook her head and slid a shaky hand through her sweaty locks. Check that¸ she thought wryly, sweaty everything. She threw the covers aside and swung her legs out of bed, gasping in relief when her bare feet touched the cold floor. She took a few more steadying breaths before trusting that her legs would remain strong underneath her.

After a few minutes, satisfied that she was strong enough, Faith crept over to the sink. She splashed a few handfuls of water on her face, mindful of her sleeping cellmate. She held her hand out in front of the window, the moon giving her enough light to make out her still shaking limb.

"At least it's not as bad as before," she smiled tiredly. The dreams had first come last month and, at first had only been every few days and she had never recalled the images shown to her. But they had come every night for the past week in perfect clarity. The first time she had cried for an hour, burrowing herself into the corner of her cell, wrapped in her blanket. Now, after six days, she had steeled herself somewhat from the horrors that would come to her now and had come to her in some former life. It still frightened her to no end but she could deal with it now.

The thing that she couldn't deal with, however, was the meaning behind the images. Who was the figure that violated her so horribly in the beginning of the dreams? Why was Angel--at least she thought it was Angel--so cryptic and why, in the end, did he kill her? Faith sighed. She knew she would never be able to interpret it herself and the tingling at the base of her skull and in her gut told the brunette slayer that she didn't have that much time before what she saw came to be.

Faith walked back to the bed and situated herself under the covers. Her eyes remained open, staring at the bunk above her. She was exhausted but knew that it would be awhile before sleep would come. But her mind was not idle and instead she focused on the problem at hand. Something was going down in the near future--something that she would be needed for. And though she had not had a vision about it, Faith also knew that something had happened to Buffy. She knew her sister slayer wasn't dead but she did know that Buffy would need her help.

If she doesn't kill me first, Faith thought. No, Buffy wouldn't do that. She wasn't like Faith used to be. Well, the old me, at least. I've changed. And it's high time I've showed them that.

Faith rolled to her side, concealing a smile as a plan formulated in her head. She was still paying her dues here in prison but, at the same time, she was needed elsewhere. It didn't take long for her to make a decision.

Sunnydale was calling to her with her new chance at redemption and she wasn't going to ignore it.

Even if the nightlife there did suck.

*&*

5:42 a.m.

The bright sun was the first thing that Buffy noticed. After being in…well, she didn't exactly know where she had been—but the point was, the light shining in her eyes was her first sensory intake in, well, a long time. She squinted, shielding her eyes as best she could in order to take a look at her surroundings.

She was in the alley outside the Magic Box. The first place she had told someone that she had been at peace when she died. No, not just someone. Spike. He had been trying to comfort her because he, like the others, had thought she had been tormented in hell. Though she didn't see his face when she told him, the air around them had changed and he had been so still. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought that she was alone. Well, that was how she felt whenever he wasn't around. Alone.

"You're not alone, pet," Buffy whirled around and saw her lover before her, bathed in sunlight.

"Spike, you're, you're…"

"Not a big pile o' dust?" He smirked and squinted up at the sun. " 'S quite a pleasant surprise if I do say so myself," he said and sauntered toward her. Buffy's breath was caught in her chest as he made his way forward. He stopped less than a foot in front of her and inhaled deeply, relishing in her scent. "And if I do say, luv, you are quite a sight." A low growl emanated from deep within his chest and Buffy gasped, painfully aware of the throbbing desire burgeoning in her loins. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths to gain her composure. Satisfied that she was reasonably under control, Buffy opened her eyes, a wry grin pasted on her face. The grin faltered when she stared at the spot Spike was.

Or where he used to be.

"Spike?" Buffy called and turned in a circle, searching for the blonde vampire. He was nowhere to be found and, after a few minutes delegation, Buffy walked to the back door of the Magic Box. She was surprised when it opened before she reached her hand out. She cautiously entered the store, her senses at maximum alert.

Once inside, the door slammed shut behind her and Buffy gave a cursory look over her shoulder before turning back towards the inside of the store.

"What the hell?" She asked as she stared at her new surroundings. What had been, on her first glimpse, the Magic Box, now bore more resemblance to the underbelly of Spike's crypt. Come to think of it…

"Spike!" She heard someone yell and tensed. The voice was female and decidedly foreign. It wasn't the yell that had her tense rather the obvious tone of pleasure that coated the female's call of Spike.

Buffy followed the cavernous paths; one hand trailing along the cool stone walls to keep her balance as the other woman's grunts and groans urged Buffy on. With each step, the slayer's stomach tightened and her throat constricted in fear of what she would see. After a handful of minutes, she came across a door that was half cracked. The noises had escalated into a cacophonous frenzy that took the slayer's breath away. The sweet musk of sex drifted through the partial opening and Buffy coughed involuntarily. She raised a shaking hand towards the door and brushed her fingertips against the splintered wood.

Just as she began pushing the door open, she heard it. His voice. "That's it, luv, right there, baby. You know how I like it." Even the thought of Spike with someone else had always made Buffy uneasy and that had been even before she had died. Of course, she had never admitted it to anyone and doubted she ever would. But now, now that she loved him and that he knew—well, the thought of him with someone else had never crossed her mind. She knew he would never do that, regardless of his vampiric nature, Buffy knew Spike would always be true to her.

"Don't stop!" He bellowed and Buffy coughed up a sob. The pain in her chest was unlike anything she had ever felt and she wanted nothing more than to run. But, like an accident on the highway, her eyes had to see. So, she pushed the door open as the tears cascaded down her cheeks and her eyes rested upon the two figures on the bed.

Her bed.

"Well, well, well," the woman chirped, never losing her rhythm as she rode the blonde vampire hard and fast. "If it isn't Lil' Miss Dimpled Knees herself. Enjoying the show?" The woman's nails raked across Spike's chest and rivulets of blood seeped to the surface. Spike cried out as her tongue flicked across the slashes, lapping up the blood.

Buffy wanted nothing more than to turn away, to run far into a corner and hide but her eyes were riveted to the small woman atop of Spike.

"Likin' what you see?" She taunted, squeezing her ample breasts. Every curve of the woman was burned into Buffy's mind, from her multi-dyed hair color to her powerful thighs that held Spike in place and her taut belly that he rubbed his hand across.

"You are magnificent," he whispered though Buffy heard it clearly enough. "I've never had a woman so perfect. One that could satisfy me like you do, pet. All the others," Spike glared pointedly at Buffy, "are good for nothing more than a quick turn in the hay."

Buffy collapsed to her knees, unable to take the scornful words or disdainful smirk Spike shot her way. The woman threw her head back and laughed at the slayer's obvious pain. Buffy was barely aware of the tattoos on the woman's back; tattoos that seemed to have a life of their own. The slayer part of her saw this but the woman part of her could only stare at her lover's infidelity as he and the other woman resumed their furious pace of sexual pleasure.

"No," Buffy whispered as her eyes took in the scene before her. "God, no."

"Buffy," someone called and tapped the slayer on the shoulder. But Buffy was too lost in her grief to notice anything else. Not until her view was blocked of the two lovers did she register that there was a fourth party in the room.

"Buffy," the figure said and when he bent down to face her, Buffy was stunned.

"Spike?" She stared at the platinum blonde in front of her in confusion.

"It's me, luv," he smiled and traced the back of his hand across her cheek. Buffy let herself get lost in the coolness of his flesh until she heard him scream in pleasure. Smacking his hand away, she stood, her face contorted in agony as she saw him still on the bed and the other woman on top of him.

"Stay away from me," she said to the one that had touched her. Spike stood, oblivious to the scene unfolding behind him, and approached Buffy.

"You know it's me, luv. That," he pointed behind him, "is not me."

"Well it sure does look like it," she replied dryly.

"Buffy, I love you. Always have and I always will. You know I would never willingly hurt you."

"But you are," she put her hand to her face to stifle another sob.

"Buffy," Spike pled and was only inches away from her. He slowly raised his hands to her and grasped her by the shoulders. His touch was gentle yet firm. He stared into her hazel orbs, so full of pain and summoned all the love he felt for her and let his eyes tell her everything.

It didn't take long for Buffy to see the truth and she melted into his embrace. Loud, violent sobs wracked her body as Spike held her, whispering words of love and assurance as he stroked her hair.

"But…but why?" she asked after several minutes. The noise in the background had ceased and when she sneaked a glance towards the bed, the other Spike was watching her intently as the woman nuzzled his neck.

"Buffy, everything is not always as it seems."

"Don't listen to him," bed-Spike shouted. "It is as it seems. You're not worth a second…"

"Things happen, luv," her Spike interrupted. "Things that you always can't help."

"Like he couldn't help but want to fuck me," the woman purred as her hands ran up and down bed-Spike's chest. Buffy's attention was drawn back towards the bed and she felt the tears start anew before Spike stepped in front of her. Her Spike.

"Buffy, I love you more than anything in this world. And I know--I know…"

"I love you," she finished and her gaze dropped. Spike cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him, her brilliant hazel eyes filled with tears.

"Buffy…"

"I knew I shouldn't have. I knew this would happen. 'Buffy Summers loves you, now let's see how much I can hurt her'," she choked out. "I knew I should have never loved you. Knew I should have never told you." She looked up at him and saw the fury behind his calm façade and flinched, awaiting for the words that would finally kill her.

"Do you love me?" He asked and she saw his lip quiver.

"Spike--"

"Do. You. Love. Me?"

"Yes."

"Then trust me Buffy," he said, sighing. "Trust that I would never willingly hurt you."

" 'Willingly'?" She asked, fear once more returning to her belly.

"Buffy, I wish I could say I'll never hurt you, but you know better than that."

"Because you're a vampire," she said dejectedly.

"No. Not because I'm a bleedin' vampire. Because I love you," he bellowed the last part and Buffy jumped at the vehemence of his words. Spike sighed and tempered his voice. "Buffy, understand that people who love each other do hurt one another. Hell, it's easier to be hurt by someone you're in love with than someone you're not. I'm a stupid git, you already know that," he said and they both chuckled. "I'm bound to say or do something that'll hurt you. And I know you'll do the same." He got down on one knee and Buffy gasped at the gesture.

"But I do know that I will never betray you. But a time will come where you will have to decide how much you trust me. Even though you say you trust me, you still don't."

She opened her mouth to argue the point but stopped, knowing that he was right. Although a part of her did trust him as a lover and friend to Dawn and the Scoobies, another part of her, the slayer part was not so trusting. She studied him, her eyes filled with remorse at not trusting him all the way. She wanted to apologize, to make it up to him but didn't know how. All she could do was see him through this. "But--but how will I know?"

Spike stood gracefully and offered her a weary smile. "It's simple. When you put your life in my hands, you will either trust me," he morphed into his demonic visage, "or I will die." And with that, Spike burst into dust before her eyes.

"Spike!" She yelled and brought her hands to her face only to see the stake she held in her hand. The same stake that had dusted her Spike.

"Looks like you did it again, luv," bed-Spike taunted. "Sent another lover to hell. Quite impressive if I do say so myself." He stood up and walked over to the nearly catatonic slayer.

"When will you learn?" he asked condescendingly. "You are nothing. You are not worthy to love and never will be. Peaches never loved you and I sure as hell didn't. Face it. You will always be alone."

"And I will always have him," the woman said as she wrapped her arms around bed-Spike's waist. "And you, ha, you will have nothing."

Spike had stayed by Buffy's side for the last four hours. He knew he had to leave soon as the sunrise was fifteen minutes away. He stood and took in the frail form of his love. Buffy looked so small lying there, IV's stuck in her arms. There was nothing of the powerful, unstoppable woman he had fallen in love with. In its place was a shell, a husk of his Buffy. He ran his fingers through her thinning hair. This was not the real Buffy.

Yet, despite that, he loved her all the same. Leaning over, he brushed his lips across hers as his thumb stroked her cheek.

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered. "I will always love you. You have to hurry and get better. Dawnie and the Bitlet need you. So do the Wiccas and the Watcher. Hell, even demon…" Spike stopped in mid-sentence, almost forgetting that Anya was no longer alive and that Xander was missing. He swallowed the tears that wanted to emerge at the loss and re-focused on Buffy.

"I need you, luv. I need you more 'an blood. Hurry, luv," he whispered and tore out of the room in a whirl of leather before the tears overpowered him.

So lost in his grief and desire to get away, Spike never heard the cough of the unconscious slayer nor the one word that fell from her lips as she climbed closer towards the surface of consciousness.

"Spike…"

*&*

5:59 a.m.

Faith walked through the grass field with her parents on either side of her. The three of them walked arm in arm, content. They had just finished up a family picnic during sunset. Now, they would watch the stars and talk with one another before it was time for patrol

"You know what they say," Buffy said, breaking the comfortable silence.

"The family that slays together, stays together," Faith quipped. She squealed when Spike's finger poked her in the ribs.

"Did I do that?" he asked innocently.

"Yeah, you did," she said, rolling her eyes and bumping him with her hip.

"So, luv," Spike said, addressing Buffy, "what is it that they say?"

"'Death is the only inescapable, unavoidable, sure thing. We are sentenced to die the day we're born'."

"What does that mean?" Faith asked and was surprised when Buffy and Spike walked away from her. "Mum? Daddy?"

Slayer and vampire huddled together and Faith stifled a laugh. They looked over something and she was reminded of a time long ago where she and her Mum would huddle up like that before sneaking in on a sleeping Spike. Buffy would hoist Faith in the air and drop her right on Spike's chest. Then, he would tickle her until Buffy came to the rescue and then all three of them would roll around in bed, laughing and tickling, tickling and laughing. It had been so long since the three of them had been together and Faith missed that. Wanting to feel that closeness again, Faith walked over to her parents and touched them on the shoulder. Their backs remained turned to her and she frowned in annoyance. Instead of calling out to them, she walked around them to get their attention. She never expected to see what was before her.

Buffy was dressed in a purple dress that ordinarily would have hugged her curves. Now, however, it only accentuated her bulging stomach. Spike stared at her belly in wonder as they both touched and rubbed it.

"It's beautiful, luv," Spike said and Faith heard the tears of joy in his voice.

"I know. She's mine." She trained her gaze lovingly at Spike. "And yours." They traded smiles and, despite being ignored, Faith was happy to see her parents so connected.

An earsplitting scream drew her attention away from her parents and Faith spun around, ready to fight. The once clear horizon had transformed into a blanket of crimson. Thunder barked in the distance and the lightning in front of her sped closer, propelled by some unnatural wind that she could not feel. Her eyes widened in fear and a column of fire blazed up her spine.

"Mum. Daddy. We have to," she turned towards her parents and screamed at the scene before her.

There he stood, the fallen Angel, his face shrouded in a black cowl. At his feet were a single stake and a scattering pile of dust. She didn't have to be told, didn't have to see to know who it was…

"Daddy," Faith whispered and fell to her knees. It was the second time he had died and she had not been able to stop it either time.

"She did it," he said, matter-of-factly, nodding to the unconscious Buffy he held by the neck. His free hand caressed her stomach lovingly. "She didn't trust him enough. Never did. It's a wonder you were ever born." With that, he slammed his hand into Buffy's stomach, ripping out the unborn fetus.

Faith was lost as her screams ripped the flesh from her throat. Her heart hammered in her chest as blood seeped from her lips and ears. The man in front of her smiled before sinking his fangs into the infant. Faith's screams rose even higher as she watched the fallen Angel feed from Buffy's unborn child. Her screams stopped when a wooden pike tore through her enemy's heart. He dropped the baby and fell to his knees. He smiled at her, blood coating his lips before crashing to his face.

"It's not enough," a familiar voice said and Faith looked up at the stranger who had skewered that monster. He gestured to the fallen body before stepping out of the shadows. "It will never be enough, Faith." He sighed before turning his eyes to her. Though his face was not recognizable, his eyes were. Though she had never seen them before this color, she knew.

"Seth."

He smiled sheepishly before responding. "Not as you knew him. But who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that I will be there for her. But even with me, even as much as I love her and will come back for her, her strength, their strength-- it will never be enough." He backed into the darkness and his words echoed in Faith's damaged ears.

"Carpe diem, quam minimum credulo postero. Only you, Faith. Only you…"

Faith was startled awake, her heart and breathing erratic. Her white nightie clung to her, thanks to the sweat that now covered her skin. She sat up and looked at the young woman next to her. Dawn was sound asleep with a look of peace etched across her face.

Despite the lingering dread lodged in her chest, Faith smiled at her aunt. Even when Faith was a child, Dawn had always slept like the dead. Between her and Spike watching Faith as a two year old, Buffy had come home many times with the house all but destroyed. Of course, Spike always took the brunt of the slayer's ire.

At the thought of her father, Faith cringed at the all too familiar reminder that her dream gave her of Spike once again being dusted. She bit her lip as the first tear made itself known. Even though she knew it was only a dream, it felt so real. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was indeed a slayer dream. And being prophetic in nature, slayer dreams often had a habit of coming true.

"I have to see him," she whispered to herself and climbed out of bed. "Just to make sure he's all right."

Using her slayer stealth, Faith crept through the house. When she got downstairs, she glanced out the window, noticing that the sun was close to breaking over the horizon. She made her way to the basement, now keenly aware that Spike was in bed even without seeing him. She stopped at the bottom step, staring anxiously at the still form of her father. One arm was draped across his eyes and the other arm was spread over the other half of the bed.

He looked so drained and Faith knew why. He had just come from seeing Buffy. Another tear escaped her eye as the pain of her mother not here reasserted herself. She put her fist to her mouth and bit down, hoping the physical pain would obliterate the emotional knives from burrowing any deeper. She had to be strong, for him. This past month, despite Spike's resolve to be stalwart for the others, Faith had seen him slowly breaking down. Although crying in front of her the other day may have released some of the emotional baggage he was carrying, it wasn't enough and Faith knew that the only thing that would make him better would be Buffy actually waking up.

She didn't know how long she watched him, silently debating whether to leave or lay next to him. That decision was taken out of her hands when he raised his left arm ever so slightly and beckoned her over to him.

Faith nodded instinctively before making her way over towards him. She drew the covers back and sidled in next to him. She used her right arm as a pillow and flung her left across his torso. Just the feel of his cool body next to him relaxed Faith more than any words ever could and she acquiesced to the sleep's call.

Spike's free arm curled around his petite daughter, in so many ways like Buffy. He smiled as he inhaled the natural scent of his Bitlet, one of the many reminders that tied her with her mother. He sighed and stared at the ceiling, content in listening to Faith's breathing even out and her heartbeat steady before she dropped off into unconsciousness.

"I love you, Faith," he whispered into her hair before settling back down. It wasn't long before he joined her in sleep and they both slept soundly. The nightmares they had seen for the last month were banished from their minds as they took comfort in the presence of family.

TBC…