Hello, all.
Three weeks in a row, although I'm not quite sure you will be that happy for it once you've read this.
Let me preface the chapter with my choices being organic. I didn't necessarily want it to be this way, but I felt it *had* to go down this road. There needs to be an answer.
You'll understand when you read.
On that note, this chapter kicks off the angsty bits. All I can do is tell you to please hang on and trust that I will end this well.
I would love your feedback....
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough
Still we trust
Somehow we'll find it there
With no guarantee
It seems to me
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ Always_Everyday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: Orion Sings (Chapter Twenty-seven - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Spike goes on his reconnaissance mission to find out what Drusilla knows. What he finds out, however, is nearly enough to kill him.
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.
Orion Sings
The gravel in front of the mission crunched under the tires of the motorcycle. Spike wasn't exactly sure where he was, but it was a couple of hours south of Sunnydale and not quite in Mexico.
The mission itself was a ruin. Not one of those restored-for-historical- value places, with clean, white-washed exteriors and flowers planted in front of the old stone and stucco. Rather an old, dilapidated monstrosity darkly set against the even darker sky.
A spray of rock and road detritus flew from behind the rear tire as he skidded his bike to a halt by the side of the building. A thought of hiding it crossed his mind, but, by the looks of things, no one was here anyway. And no one ever came.
Thousands of things ran through his head as he parked, grabbing his duffle and swinging his leg over the bike to start into the building. Pictures of Buffy lying in their bed, so small and injured and actually needing his help. Watching her fall to the ground in the fight. Other things too: she and Emma in the backyard, holding Will as she barked out commands on a school morning, undulating beneath him with her coral lips parted as they made love.
As he walked closer to the mission, he could see other things too. Pictures he wasn't sure he wanted to see anymore, but that were as much a part of his memory as those of his family. Pictures of Dru, blood on her mouth, giggling after a hunt. Dru dancing under the stars, reveling in the base instincts she'd been left with after her torture had broken her. Hanging onto that stupid sodding doll and laughing at the moon.
A quirky smile broke on the edge of his lips. He loved it when she laughed.
Drusilla had been his princess then, and was his sire. There was a bond there that could never be broken. Somewhere, he thought, Buffy understood that. That there would always be a bond between them both like mother and child, and like first loves. That thought made him shudder. But it was true, all the same.
She was a part of him, Dru. Always had been. Always would be.
But a different part now.
Stomping out the cigarette he'd forgotten he'd lit, Spike stood in front of the mission. Something felt ... wrong... here. Not in the 'I'm about to be ambushed' sense. His radar for humans was showing clear. The funny thing was, so was his radar for Vampires. He felt nothing in the place. Nothing at all. Except sadness.
With a deep breath, he gathered his courage and walked through the stone arch and into the mission.
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~
"Buffy," Giles said, exasperated, tired and a bit nerve-wracked, knowing his beloved was currently in Hell. "Do you remember anything about what the Master looked like?"
"I didn't really see him," she answered sullenly, curling up on her good side and drawing her broken arm over her middle. Giles sat on the edge of the bed, a dusty tome in his lap. He'd put Randy to bed in Will's room and had decided to stay with Buffy on the first shift. She wasn't going to be left alone while Spike was gone. Both by Spike's wishes and his own.
"Nothing at all?" Giles asked, knowing that Buffy's mind was elsewhere.
She shook her head. "I was a little busy getting my arm broken. Sorry." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Giles knew that it was just to cover the worry and sadness of what was happening with Spike.
With a dusty clap, Giles shut the book, like a father finishing telling a bedtime story. "Well, I'll have to ask Spike when he comes back. I suppose that he got a look at the Master." He paused, waiting for Buffy to react, but she just drew herself into a tighter ball. "If you'd like, I'll give you a free berating session for coming up with this plan to begin with."
Buffy turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. "I'd really like that."
Giles chuckled, turning to face her. "Buffy," he began, taking a deep breath, "You know that I wouldn't... I couldn't... after all these years...I would never..."
"Do something you didn't think was absolutely necessary?" She asked, scooting herself up so she was propped on the pillows and wincing from the sudden surge of pain in her arm.
Giles's face went white. "Your arm? Shall I get you something for...?"
"Can't," she hissed. "Baby."
"Right," Giles nodded helplessly. "Maybe we should have this conversation when you're feeling a bit..."
Buffy closed her eyes and swallowed down the nauseating surge of pain, then refocused. "Fine now."
Another, this time humourless, chuckle from her Watcher. "That I very much doubt."
A smirk from the Slayer and things were back on track. "Listen, Giles, I know that you wouldn't have asked Spike to do this if you didn't think it was important. If you didn't honestly think she might be able to help. But it doesn't change..."
"I know," Giles interrupted. "I know that Buffy. I wouldn't have let Anya go back to La Maison Rouge unless I thought it was vital to the... situation..."
"But it doesn't change how much I hate it," Buffy concluded.
"No," Giles agreed, nodding. "It doesn't."
Buffy thought for a moment. "Angel knows?"
A perplexed look crossed the Watcher's face. "Knows what, Buffy?"
"That Spike is going there, or is there, or whatever?" Buffy asked. "I mean, I know that they don't always see eye to eye, but I also know that Drusilla... well, she's something to both of them."
Giles nodded. "We can't ever understand that, Buffy. We're not... as close as we are, in differing ways, to the varying demon populations, we cannot understand their emotional ties. I can't assume that this is particularly easy on Spike either."
Buffy shook her head and then smiled. "Hey, were you just thinking of my Vampire husband's welfare?" She joked.
A blush spread on the Watcher's cheeks. "Yes, well, he has been at least moderately helpful and not annoyed me to the point of my brain dribbling from my ears for quite some time."
Finally, laughter filled the room. Buffy exploded into giggles, ignoring the pain in her arm and her heart and her spirit and laughed, remembering a time when no one believed in Spike but her. And even the time when she didn't, although that seemed so long ago. And she was really stupid then.
"But," Giles finally continued, laughter in his own voice, "I did tell Angel that Spike had left and also to stay clear until Spike had talked to Drusilla, as I don't think that she'll talk as freely to Angel as she will to Spike."
Buffy nodded, regaining her composure. "I wouldn't."
"There was a time when you did," Giles reminded her.
"No, there was a time where I had a wicked crush on a handsome Vampire and fell in love with what I couldn't have. But there was never a time where I felt safer with him than I do with Spike," Buffy corrected, trying to remember it all. Everything seemed so long ago. Like another lifetime altogether. Then again, it was another lifetime altogether, in a way.
Giles nodded at her, so glad for the comfort between them. She was his daughter. Through thick and thin, that was the one thing that hadn't changed. Them. And that made Giles happier than she'd ever know.
Somewhere, he hoped Joyce would be pleased at how her daughter had turned out, and that she thought he'd done an all right job seeing her there.
"You should get some rest, Buffy," Giles said softly. "I'm going to go downstairs and do a bit of researcht."
She nodded, smiling as he pulled the comforter up to her chin and filled the glass of water on her nightstand. "Thanks for staying with me," she whispered, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes, reminiscent of those eyes that had looked at him the day they first met.
He nodded once, grabbing the tome. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Now get some rest," he answered, flipping off the light.
"Nite Giles," she sang sleepily.
"Goodnight, Buffy."
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~
As Spike walked down the hallway of the mission, a surge of white hot pain spread through his body and he stopped, leaning against a wall for support. When he could see again, he shook his head and looked down at himself, trying to survey the damage, his eyes flittering around in the darkness to see where it came from.
He sensed nothing in the room. No one else. His body seemed whole. Intact. But his arm burned as if someone had spilled holy water on it. Halfway up his forearm, sparks of white fire still exploded like New Years fireworks.
A thought occurred to him.
Buffy.
Images swam in his head of her helpless, clutching her arm, screaming in pain, doubled over and crying, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop it. His heart beat double time in his chest and he searched the pockets of his duster for his cell phone, finding that he must have left it in his bag.
Buffy.
But as quickly as the pain came upon him, it began to subside, and a sort of peaceful quiet settled over him. Comfort, despite pain.
Spike took a deep breath and decided to get this over with. He needed, he *ached* to be with Buffy. But he knew he had to do this first.
The sound of his boot heels thudding against the cement corridor was deafening in the silence. He came to the end of the hall and found a T- junction. Left or right. Left or right.
A funny thought occurred to him. Were it Buffy he'd been looking for, he'd have headed right. With Dru, the left hand path was always a safe bet.
A pivot and he was on his way down a dark corridor, riddled with exits into various chambers. Spike switched into game face in order to see better, and began to search, still not feeling anything but the inky black emptiness all around him.
At the end of the hall, there was a large stone archway, leading into a small courtyard. From that direction, he sensed something faint. Nothing he'd consider a threat. Actually, it was more like what the life-force of a wet, bedraggled kitten would feel like. Just a blip. But he followed it nonetheless.
There was a dead fountain in the courtyard, surrounded by an overgrown garden. Stone benches sat in a circle around the fountain, lit by the soft light of the crescent moon. Darkness surrounded the area past the benches. Stone eaves and overhangs creating corners darker than the pits of Hell. It made Spike shudder.
Straightening his back, reminding himself that he was half of the single most powerful force on this plane, he pushed back his fear and strode toward the fountain in the pale moonlight.
"I wish to think the brave knight came to save his princess, but the knight is white and his princess is black and night," a weak voice sing-songed from the darkness.
Spike spun towards the sound, focusing with his enhanced vision on the corner of the courtyard, not far from where he stood.
The voice breathed a heavy sigh. "The night does not bring pleasure to me anymore," she said quietly. "But the flowers are so pretty."
Dead roses climbed up a trellis to his left, but bright wildflowers grew at the base. He wasn't sure which she was talking about.
"You came to ask your mommy for help," she whispered, the sound cracked and arid. "You came to ask your mommy about the baby."
Spike walked hesitantly towards the sound, his boot heels now explosively loud, only competing against the pounding of his heart. "That I did, Dru."
He could almost hear her smile. "I always loved you best, my Spike," she cooed from the shadows. "Come and say goodbye."
Spike quirked an eyebrow, not at all certain of what the dark princess had in store, but stepped towards the darkness all the same.
At the edge of the ring of light created by the moon, he began to see her. She was dressed in a white dress like one of her dolls, sitting on the cold concrete, her legs spread in front of her like a child, her body held up only by the wall behind her.
She was skeletal, her face nearly as white as her dress, black hair shocking against her pale, smooth skin. Something in Spike cracked at the sight. She'd always been frail, but strong. Vibrant.
Now she was dead.
With another sharp inhale of courage, he pushed himself towards her and into the darkness, standing at her feet. "Drusilla," his hushed voice gasped. He couldn't fathom what was in front of him. The stick figure with skin hanging from bone, lost and alone with eyes as hollowed and dead as the deepest recesses of Hell.
She smiled a mirthless grin, but her eyes still twinkled with the last vestiges of her spirit. "My Spike. Come and sit with me, will you?"
Spike swallowed, dropping to his knees in front of his creator. What he told Buffy had been truth. He wasn't in love with her... not in the way that Buffy feared... but there would always be something between them. She would always be his sire, his teacher. He would always know what made her smile and what made her heart sing.
A bony hand reached out and took his. It was ice against his warmed skin. "Your humanity suits you, even if I hate it," she whispered. "It is nice to be warm."
Spike scooted closer, pulling her against him so that her head lolled into the crook of his shoulder. She was too weak to fight it, and too weak to find her way in closer. "S'nice sometimes, Pet."
"To share your bed?" Dru asked quietly, her eyes shifting up towards his.
Spike nodded. "That too." He could feel tears forming as she nodded her reply.
"You were meant to be there, you know. Orion told me so." She shifted her gaze to the stars and pointed weakly. "He sings me to sleep some nights. Like you used to do. And he told me you were happy with the little Slayer. I don't like her."
Spike had to chuckle at that. "I know you don't, princess."
Drusilla went quiet a moment and Spike wondered if she was gone. Disappearing out from under his arm. "She is your princess now," Dru whispered sadly.
"She is," Spike answered honestly. "Doesn't change you, though. Doesn't make what happened any less."
A small hitch and Spike felt a tear against his shirt. "Alone now. Alone with the stars. Don't want to drink the red red wine. Don't want to play in the flowers. I never wanted this at all. But I did miss you."
Spike could feel his own tears welling. "What didn't you want, Pet?"
"I wanted to be good. I remember that now. Wanted to be a good girl. Went to a place like this. Holy men were here, Spike. They sang too, until we killed them. Our kind."
He looked around the stone structure, feeling the faint vibration of torture and death in the walls. It wouldn't have surprised him much to hear that Vampires killed the men that lived here. Like Angel had done to Drusilla's convent. It was a favourite pastime of the darker breeds.
"Hurts to remember," Spike whispered, absently stroking her hair. "What it felt like before..."
"Sad," she whispered quietly. "And now Daddy's got his soul and you've got your stars and I'm left alone. Can't be good. Can't be bad anymore because I remember."
The words tore at Spike's own heart. 'Not a monster. Not a man.'
"I know, Love. But we can help you. Angel and me. If you want," Spike said quietly, feeling her fingers threaded in his.
He felt her head shake violently. "Want to go back to the stars, Spike," she whispered, tracing patterns on his palm. "Want them to take me home now."
Spike turned and caught her tired gaze. She was starved and alone and afraid. Something in her hadn't quite grasped guilt yet, but she was feeling something and that something was tearing her in two.
"But you didn't come to help your princess," Dru whispered quietly. "You came about the Dark One and your daughter."
It took everything he had to pull himself together and press on. That was why he was here. Not for her. Although, if he could find a way to make this right in the process...
But then, would he be responsible for letting one of the most gifted killers of all time free once more?
The thought boggled his mind as he sat there, giving his warmth to the woman who created him. Did they really do those things? Or was it all a cheap hoax?
"The Dark One knows your child, Spike," Drusilla said quietly. "I will tell you what he knows, but only if you promise to give me a gift."
Spike shifted, turning towards her and settling her down on his chest, holding her like a child. "Anything, Dru. What do you want? I'll do everything..." His eyes sparkled with unshed tears, his heart breaking at the sight of her. The sound of her voice. The smell of decay.
"End this," she whispered, her gaze catching his. Tears streamed down her sunken cheeks as she said it. "End me."
Spike's eyes went wide and wild. "What? Dru, you can't be serious! I can't..."
"Love," she said quietly, her hand rising to his face, her palm ice cold against his cheek. "I cannot be good. I cannot be bad. I cannot be."
"We can help you, Dru," Spike answered, his voice cracking. "Angel. Me. Even Buffy..."
"No," she ordered, her voice as strong as he'd heard it yet. "The stars are calling me home and I will go, with your help or without. If you want your answers, you will take me home. Set me free."
Tears streamed down his face as he stared at her hollow emptiness. Gone was the girl laughing under the stars. Gone was the killer. Gone was the saint. All that was left was the frail shell. And she wanted to go home.
How could he deny her that?
"I brought you into this world, Spike," Drusilla began again. "I was your mum. Take me out of it."
"Dru," Spike breathed, his voice shaking and cracked. "Please. God, please don't..."
"Forsaken," she hissed, "God has forsaken me. Took you back. Took Daddy back. And I, who gave what I have unto Him, He has forsaken me." Her eyes turned again to Spike. "But I will give Him what he asks and maybe He will love me again. Maybe you will love me again."
She sobbed soundlessly against Spike's chest, her bony fingers gripping the lapel of his duster. "Dru...." He whispered, stroking her hair.
"Promise me an end and I will give you your answer. Promise me nothing and leave," Drusilla replied, trying to make her voice as commanding as she could. "My Spike," she continued. "My good Spike. Make a choice."
To be contd.
Three weeks in a row, although I'm not quite sure you will be that happy for it once you've read this.
Let me preface the chapter with my choices being organic. I didn't necessarily want it to be this way, but I felt it *had* to go down this road. There needs to be an answer.
You'll understand when you read.
On that note, this chapter kicks off the angsty bits. All I can do is tell you to please hang on and trust that I will end this well.
I would love your feedback....
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough
Still we trust
Somehow we'll find it there
With no guarantee
It seems to me
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ Always_Everyday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: Orion Sings (Chapter Twenty-seven - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Spike goes on his reconnaissance mission to find out what Drusilla knows. What he finds out, however, is nearly enough to kill him.
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.
Orion Sings
The gravel in front of the mission crunched under the tires of the motorcycle. Spike wasn't exactly sure where he was, but it was a couple of hours south of Sunnydale and not quite in Mexico.
The mission itself was a ruin. Not one of those restored-for-historical- value places, with clean, white-washed exteriors and flowers planted in front of the old stone and stucco. Rather an old, dilapidated monstrosity darkly set against the even darker sky.
A spray of rock and road detritus flew from behind the rear tire as he skidded his bike to a halt by the side of the building. A thought of hiding it crossed his mind, but, by the looks of things, no one was here anyway. And no one ever came.
Thousands of things ran through his head as he parked, grabbing his duffle and swinging his leg over the bike to start into the building. Pictures of Buffy lying in their bed, so small and injured and actually needing his help. Watching her fall to the ground in the fight. Other things too: she and Emma in the backyard, holding Will as she barked out commands on a school morning, undulating beneath him with her coral lips parted as they made love.
As he walked closer to the mission, he could see other things too. Pictures he wasn't sure he wanted to see anymore, but that were as much a part of his memory as those of his family. Pictures of Dru, blood on her mouth, giggling after a hunt. Dru dancing under the stars, reveling in the base instincts she'd been left with after her torture had broken her. Hanging onto that stupid sodding doll and laughing at the moon.
A quirky smile broke on the edge of his lips. He loved it when she laughed.
Drusilla had been his princess then, and was his sire. There was a bond there that could never be broken. Somewhere, he thought, Buffy understood that. That there would always be a bond between them both like mother and child, and like first loves. That thought made him shudder. But it was true, all the same.
She was a part of him, Dru. Always had been. Always would be.
But a different part now.
Stomping out the cigarette he'd forgotten he'd lit, Spike stood in front of the mission. Something felt ... wrong... here. Not in the 'I'm about to be ambushed' sense. His radar for humans was showing clear. The funny thing was, so was his radar for Vampires. He felt nothing in the place. Nothing at all. Except sadness.
With a deep breath, he gathered his courage and walked through the stone arch and into the mission.
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~
"Buffy," Giles said, exasperated, tired and a bit nerve-wracked, knowing his beloved was currently in Hell. "Do you remember anything about what the Master looked like?"
"I didn't really see him," she answered sullenly, curling up on her good side and drawing her broken arm over her middle. Giles sat on the edge of the bed, a dusty tome in his lap. He'd put Randy to bed in Will's room and had decided to stay with Buffy on the first shift. She wasn't going to be left alone while Spike was gone. Both by Spike's wishes and his own.
"Nothing at all?" Giles asked, knowing that Buffy's mind was elsewhere.
She shook her head. "I was a little busy getting my arm broken. Sorry." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Giles knew that it was just to cover the worry and sadness of what was happening with Spike.
With a dusty clap, Giles shut the book, like a father finishing telling a bedtime story. "Well, I'll have to ask Spike when he comes back. I suppose that he got a look at the Master." He paused, waiting for Buffy to react, but she just drew herself into a tighter ball. "If you'd like, I'll give you a free berating session for coming up with this plan to begin with."
Buffy turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. "I'd really like that."
Giles chuckled, turning to face her. "Buffy," he began, taking a deep breath, "You know that I wouldn't... I couldn't... after all these years...I would never..."
"Do something you didn't think was absolutely necessary?" She asked, scooting herself up so she was propped on the pillows and wincing from the sudden surge of pain in her arm.
Giles's face went white. "Your arm? Shall I get you something for...?"
"Can't," she hissed. "Baby."
"Right," Giles nodded helplessly. "Maybe we should have this conversation when you're feeling a bit..."
Buffy closed her eyes and swallowed down the nauseating surge of pain, then refocused. "Fine now."
Another, this time humourless, chuckle from her Watcher. "That I very much doubt."
A smirk from the Slayer and things were back on track. "Listen, Giles, I know that you wouldn't have asked Spike to do this if you didn't think it was important. If you didn't honestly think she might be able to help. But it doesn't change..."
"I know," Giles interrupted. "I know that Buffy. I wouldn't have let Anya go back to La Maison Rouge unless I thought it was vital to the... situation..."
"But it doesn't change how much I hate it," Buffy concluded.
"No," Giles agreed, nodding. "It doesn't."
Buffy thought for a moment. "Angel knows?"
A perplexed look crossed the Watcher's face. "Knows what, Buffy?"
"That Spike is going there, or is there, or whatever?" Buffy asked. "I mean, I know that they don't always see eye to eye, but I also know that Drusilla... well, she's something to both of them."
Giles nodded. "We can't ever understand that, Buffy. We're not... as close as we are, in differing ways, to the varying demon populations, we cannot understand their emotional ties. I can't assume that this is particularly easy on Spike either."
Buffy shook her head and then smiled. "Hey, were you just thinking of my Vampire husband's welfare?" She joked.
A blush spread on the Watcher's cheeks. "Yes, well, he has been at least moderately helpful and not annoyed me to the point of my brain dribbling from my ears for quite some time."
Finally, laughter filled the room. Buffy exploded into giggles, ignoring the pain in her arm and her heart and her spirit and laughed, remembering a time when no one believed in Spike but her. And even the time when she didn't, although that seemed so long ago. And she was really stupid then.
"But," Giles finally continued, laughter in his own voice, "I did tell Angel that Spike had left and also to stay clear until Spike had talked to Drusilla, as I don't think that she'll talk as freely to Angel as she will to Spike."
Buffy nodded, regaining her composure. "I wouldn't."
"There was a time when you did," Giles reminded her.
"No, there was a time where I had a wicked crush on a handsome Vampire and fell in love with what I couldn't have. But there was never a time where I felt safer with him than I do with Spike," Buffy corrected, trying to remember it all. Everything seemed so long ago. Like another lifetime altogether. Then again, it was another lifetime altogether, in a way.
Giles nodded at her, so glad for the comfort between them. She was his daughter. Through thick and thin, that was the one thing that hadn't changed. Them. And that made Giles happier than she'd ever know.
Somewhere, he hoped Joyce would be pleased at how her daughter had turned out, and that she thought he'd done an all right job seeing her there.
"You should get some rest, Buffy," Giles said softly. "I'm going to go downstairs and do a bit of researcht."
She nodded, smiling as he pulled the comforter up to her chin and filled the glass of water on her nightstand. "Thanks for staying with me," she whispered, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes, reminiscent of those eyes that had looked at him the day they first met.
He nodded once, grabbing the tome. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Now get some rest," he answered, flipping off the light.
"Nite Giles," she sang sleepily.
"Goodnight, Buffy."
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~
As Spike walked down the hallway of the mission, a surge of white hot pain spread through his body and he stopped, leaning against a wall for support. When he could see again, he shook his head and looked down at himself, trying to survey the damage, his eyes flittering around in the darkness to see where it came from.
He sensed nothing in the room. No one else. His body seemed whole. Intact. But his arm burned as if someone had spilled holy water on it. Halfway up his forearm, sparks of white fire still exploded like New Years fireworks.
A thought occurred to him.
Buffy.
Images swam in his head of her helpless, clutching her arm, screaming in pain, doubled over and crying, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop it. His heart beat double time in his chest and he searched the pockets of his duster for his cell phone, finding that he must have left it in his bag.
Buffy.
But as quickly as the pain came upon him, it began to subside, and a sort of peaceful quiet settled over him. Comfort, despite pain.
Spike took a deep breath and decided to get this over with. He needed, he *ached* to be with Buffy. But he knew he had to do this first.
The sound of his boot heels thudding against the cement corridor was deafening in the silence. He came to the end of the hall and found a T- junction. Left or right. Left or right.
A funny thought occurred to him. Were it Buffy he'd been looking for, he'd have headed right. With Dru, the left hand path was always a safe bet.
A pivot and he was on his way down a dark corridor, riddled with exits into various chambers. Spike switched into game face in order to see better, and began to search, still not feeling anything but the inky black emptiness all around him.
At the end of the hall, there was a large stone archway, leading into a small courtyard. From that direction, he sensed something faint. Nothing he'd consider a threat. Actually, it was more like what the life-force of a wet, bedraggled kitten would feel like. Just a blip. But he followed it nonetheless.
There was a dead fountain in the courtyard, surrounded by an overgrown garden. Stone benches sat in a circle around the fountain, lit by the soft light of the crescent moon. Darkness surrounded the area past the benches. Stone eaves and overhangs creating corners darker than the pits of Hell. It made Spike shudder.
Straightening his back, reminding himself that he was half of the single most powerful force on this plane, he pushed back his fear and strode toward the fountain in the pale moonlight.
"I wish to think the brave knight came to save his princess, but the knight is white and his princess is black and night," a weak voice sing-songed from the darkness.
Spike spun towards the sound, focusing with his enhanced vision on the corner of the courtyard, not far from where he stood.
The voice breathed a heavy sigh. "The night does not bring pleasure to me anymore," she said quietly. "But the flowers are so pretty."
Dead roses climbed up a trellis to his left, but bright wildflowers grew at the base. He wasn't sure which she was talking about.
"You came to ask your mommy for help," she whispered, the sound cracked and arid. "You came to ask your mommy about the baby."
Spike walked hesitantly towards the sound, his boot heels now explosively loud, only competing against the pounding of his heart. "That I did, Dru."
He could almost hear her smile. "I always loved you best, my Spike," she cooed from the shadows. "Come and say goodbye."
Spike quirked an eyebrow, not at all certain of what the dark princess had in store, but stepped towards the darkness all the same.
At the edge of the ring of light created by the moon, he began to see her. She was dressed in a white dress like one of her dolls, sitting on the cold concrete, her legs spread in front of her like a child, her body held up only by the wall behind her.
She was skeletal, her face nearly as white as her dress, black hair shocking against her pale, smooth skin. Something in Spike cracked at the sight. She'd always been frail, but strong. Vibrant.
Now she was dead.
With another sharp inhale of courage, he pushed himself towards her and into the darkness, standing at her feet. "Drusilla," his hushed voice gasped. He couldn't fathom what was in front of him. The stick figure with skin hanging from bone, lost and alone with eyes as hollowed and dead as the deepest recesses of Hell.
She smiled a mirthless grin, but her eyes still twinkled with the last vestiges of her spirit. "My Spike. Come and sit with me, will you?"
Spike swallowed, dropping to his knees in front of his creator. What he told Buffy had been truth. He wasn't in love with her... not in the way that Buffy feared... but there would always be something between them. She would always be his sire, his teacher. He would always know what made her smile and what made her heart sing.
A bony hand reached out and took his. It was ice against his warmed skin. "Your humanity suits you, even if I hate it," she whispered. "It is nice to be warm."
Spike scooted closer, pulling her against him so that her head lolled into the crook of his shoulder. She was too weak to fight it, and too weak to find her way in closer. "S'nice sometimes, Pet."
"To share your bed?" Dru asked quietly, her eyes shifting up towards his.
Spike nodded. "That too." He could feel tears forming as she nodded her reply.
"You were meant to be there, you know. Orion told me so." She shifted her gaze to the stars and pointed weakly. "He sings me to sleep some nights. Like you used to do. And he told me you were happy with the little Slayer. I don't like her."
Spike had to chuckle at that. "I know you don't, princess."
Drusilla went quiet a moment and Spike wondered if she was gone. Disappearing out from under his arm. "She is your princess now," Dru whispered sadly.
"She is," Spike answered honestly. "Doesn't change you, though. Doesn't make what happened any less."
A small hitch and Spike felt a tear against his shirt. "Alone now. Alone with the stars. Don't want to drink the red red wine. Don't want to play in the flowers. I never wanted this at all. But I did miss you."
Spike could feel his own tears welling. "What didn't you want, Pet?"
"I wanted to be good. I remember that now. Wanted to be a good girl. Went to a place like this. Holy men were here, Spike. They sang too, until we killed them. Our kind."
He looked around the stone structure, feeling the faint vibration of torture and death in the walls. It wouldn't have surprised him much to hear that Vampires killed the men that lived here. Like Angel had done to Drusilla's convent. It was a favourite pastime of the darker breeds.
"Hurts to remember," Spike whispered, absently stroking her hair. "What it felt like before..."
"Sad," she whispered quietly. "And now Daddy's got his soul and you've got your stars and I'm left alone. Can't be good. Can't be bad anymore because I remember."
The words tore at Spike's own heart. 'Not a monster. Not a man.'
"I know, Love. But we can help you. Angel and me. If you want," Spike said quietly, feeling her fingers threaded in his.
He felt her head shake violently. "Want to go back to the stars, Spike," she whispered, tracing patterns on his palm. "Want them to take me home now."
Spike turned and caught her tired gaze. She was starved and alone and afraid. Something in her hadn't quite grasped guilt yet, but she was feeling something and that something was tearing her in two.
"But you didn't come to help your princess," Dru whispered quietly. "You came about the Dark One and your daughter."
It took everything he had to pull himself together and press on. That was why he was here. Not for her. Although, if he could find a way to make this right in the process...
But then, would he be responsible for letting one of the most gifted killers of all time free once more?
The thought boggled his mind as he sat there, giving his warmth to the woman who created him. Did they really do those things? Or was it all a cheap hoax?
"The Dark One knows your child, Spike," Drusilla said quietly. "I will tell you what he knows, but only if you promise to give me a gift."
Spike shifted, turning towards her and settling her down on his chest, holding her like a child. "Anything, Dru. What do you want? I'll do everything..." His eyes sparkled with unshed tears, his heart breaking at the sight of her. The sound of her voice. The smell of decay.
"End this," she whispered, her gaze catching his. Tears streamed down her sunken cheeks as she said it. "End me."
Spike's eyes went wide and wild. "What? Dru, you can't be serious! I can't..."
"Love," she said quietly, her hand rising to his face, her palm ice cold against his cheek. "I cannot be good. I cannot be bad. I cannot be."
"We can help you, Dru," Spike answered, his voice cracking. "Angel. Me. Even Buffy..."
"No," she ordered, her voice as strong as he'd heard it yet. "The stars are calling me home and I will go, with your help or without. If you want your answers, you will take me home. Set me free."
Tears streamed down his face as he stared at her hollow emptiness. Gone was the girl laughing under the stars. Gone was the killer. Gone was the saint. All that was left was the frail shell. And she wanted to go home.
How could he deny her that?
"I brought you into this world, Spike," Drusilla began again. "I was your mum. Take me out of it."
"Dru," Spike breathed, his voice shaking and cracked. "Please. God, please don't..."
"Forsaken," she hissed, "God has forsaken me. Took you back. Took Daddy back. And I, who gave what I have unto Him, He has forsaken me." Her eyes turned again to Spike. "But I will give Him what he asks and maybe He will love me again. Maybe you will love me again."
She sobbed soundlessly against Spike's chest, her bony fingers gripping the lapel of his duster. "Dru...." He whispered, stroking her hair.
"Promise me an end and I will give you your answer. Promise me nothing and leave," Drusilla replied, trying to make her voice as commanding as she could. "My Spike," she continued. "My good Spike. Make a choice."
To be contd.