Sunlight, her flaxen countenance infused with a virgin's first blush, was receding. Her brother Night's ebony face was seeping closer, his starlight glinting crown dusting the eastern sky. I was still held in my stone prison. But not for long. Night's faithful companion is Hunger; his wan grin and bony fingers would stretch forth as Night's cloak enveloped the earth.
I hadn't much time. Tonight was the third night I had spent in Sunnydale. I grew weaker with every passing sunset. Perhaps it's the lack of feeding. I'd heard that starving yourself is an effective way to bring about feebleness. Probably should look into that.
In the three days since my entrance into The Magic Box I had seen the Slayer once, and her friends not at all. Spike, as loathful as the fact was, was my most faithful companion. He and I patrolled each night, looking into possible Laalym locations. He would be coming by for me soon. Placing the journal on a convenient dusty protruding stone, I waited.
I thought about Katie, about her untimely death and my overwhelming grief, and guilt. I thought about Elizabeth, my most faithful Watcher, my dearest friend. I thought about Jena. What had happened to her? There were still a few pieces of the puzzle to be had. But where to get them?
I thought about Daniel. He was wild and impetuous, full of fire and passion and zeal. He believed in each moment, each second. Both proud of his heritage and longing to be out from under a destiny he hadn't chosen. I missed him so much. The lack of him, waking and not finding him with me, that was the hardest thing I had to endure.
My grief over losing him was compounded by Things Not Said. Those are the worst than all the mistakes, all the horror, all the wrongness of my life. I could only pray he had gotten out of Laalym's hold that night unscathed. I could only hope he had gone on with his life.
"Well then, waiting for an invitation" The familiar cocky voice broke my thoughts. Spike had arrived and I hadn't even heard him enter my crypt. Some Slayer I was.
"Sorry" I said, hastily gathering my weapons from the floor"just was...thinking."
"Pretty deep thinking for this early in the evening." His eyes bored into mine. For all his bluff and blowing, he was really surprisingly intuitive. And he'd kill me in an instant if I told anyone I'd thought that.
I shrugged. "Yeah, well. Couldn't sleep." Again.
He continued to look at me for a moment. Not in an overly kind way, just a hunter sizing up his partner; looking for weaknesses that could get him killed. After a bit, he gave a quick nod and gestured toward the door.
The night was fresh, cool. After reliving my horrors all day, it was a bit like paradise. To a vampire, the Night is much more than a time of day. He's a friend, an old lover. He wraps us up in his embrace, provides us with the hunt, feeds our Hungers. We are Night's children, his blessed, his beloved. We, like no other creature, belong to him. To a vampire, a walk at Night is like coming home.
"Have you heard anything? From Buffy and Company, I mean." Even to my ears, I sounded too eager.
"Yeah. They don't know. Red and the other Witch have been looking for a spell to take this Laalym out, but no go. Little Bit, Anya and her Poof boyfriend have been researching Big Bad himself. Also a big fat zero." Spike's frustration was evident. He just wanted to kill something, anything. Having a big mean vampire so close and not being able to kick the undead shit out of it was irking him. I completely understood.
We walked out of the cemetery. "Not to sound ungrateful, but why isn't Buffy here? I mean, she is the current Slayer. I wouldn't think that she'd trust two muzzled Vampires to do her job..." Spike whirled around, glaring. Apparently I'd just committed to unspeakable sin: to criticize her royal Buffyness.
"Listen, I don't know what you think you're on about, but the Slayer has a lot more than your raggedy vampire to worry about. She's just lost her mum, she has to watch out for the Bit, and Laalym isn't the only show in town you know." His face was a scant few inches from mine, his indignation and suppressed rage shadowed in his eyes. "So I suggest you just sod off about things you don't understand. Right"
He pulled back, practically growling. Then it hit me. He was in love with her. A chipped vampire was in love with a Slayer. It was like a bad romance novel. How could a human ever love a vampire?
How indeed.
"I'm sorry" I said, trying to backpedal. "I didn't know. I...I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well. Right." He was casting about, looking for a change of subject, a way to distract from the feelings boiling so close to the surface. I knew because I was feeling the same way. Avoidance had become my survival instinct.
"So, who is this other menace that darkens Sunnydale's boarders" I figured I'd give the poor guy an out. Lord knows I didn't want to talk about my squish feelings right then, either. "Vampire, voodoo demon, big hairy puppies, what"
Silence from the peanut gallery. He looked...grim. This was unnerving.
"What? It can't be that bad. I mean, you've got what? Two witches, a vampire, and a Watcher – not to mention the Slayer. What could possibly go up against that arsenal"
"We don't know." It was a quiet confession. Defeat is a sour taste, one I doubt Spike was used to choking down. "Buffy's run against her a few times, got beaten pretty bad."
"Oh."
"Hell god. That's what we know. But that's about all we know. And it's bloody not enough to kill her."
He was stopped in the middle of the path, his leather clad back to me, shoulders slumped. "I can't kill her."
The distance between what should have been and what is sometimes seems a chasm deeper than black and wider than thunder. Yet you can breach it with a touch, a word, a thought, a deed done. I stepped forward and placed my hand on the back of a stranger, a foe in another time, now an uneasy ally in a battle I couldn't win. I stepped away from my story and, for that one moment, wrapped myself in his. I cared.
We stood for a few beats of eternity, two strangers on a planet with no place for us. No room at the inn. We both heartbreakingly loved, we both knew the futility of such an emotion. We were children of the Night, partners in it's Hunger, siblings of the Pain.
"I love her." He rasped. To himself, to the stars, to her. I simply overheard.
A sudden motion from the cemetery behind us jolted us alive. Five vampires, all big, mean, and ugly, popped out from behind headstones. Is there a club these guys join? The 'Hi, I'm a big hairy overgrown undead lummox' club? Cause I definitely need to read some of their literature.
Spike whirled into action, charging the largest of the large with a battle cry. I followed close behind. We ducked, we dodged, we hit, we kicked – and I won't deny biting – and we dusted. I fell into the familiar battle routine: Hitkickstabdust, rinse, repeat. Fifth Rule of Slaying – don't get too involved in your groove. Routine can get you killed.
Too bad I don't listen to myself.
As I was dusting Mr. Ugly of the Year, one of the Vamps caught me from behind. I should have been able to throw him off, I should have been able to shake him, I should have watched my back. Unfortunately, this guy did seem a big fan of do-overs. He began to tighten his titan grip around my midsection.
"Let's see if I can make your head pop off." He chuckled.
"Daniel..." I choked. Then all went black.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Buffyworld and it's inhabitants are claimed by the high Geekoid Joss. Theresa is owned by a Hubert the plot-bunny. He likes to nibble on socks.
A/N: Thanks for reading along! Please, review. I'm not going to beg. I'm going to bribe. All reviewers will get...a shrubbery!
