No More Mind
Buffy came alone. I'm not surprised. The Slayer never let anyone into her life. Into her heart. Not after Angel ruined her. I wonder if he realizes he took more than her innocence that night. Probably not. The Magnificent Poof is too busy brooding to notice anyone else. I'm not Angel. I will never be Angel.
"Spike." Buffy is turning the stake in her hand casually. "You shouldn't have come back here."
"I know. I messed up your picture perfect life. You might actually have to think about something. Bad memories." I'm stalking around her, circling like a vulture. Lowering my voice to almost a whisper, I reach out to touch her hair. "Does it still get you hot when-" I don't get to finish my question because she knocks my hand away and raises the stake.
"I don't think about you, Spike. Ever." She's lying. Interesting.
"Pity. I remember you. The sounds you make. Whimpers. Moans." I'm close enough to get myself killed. "I wonder if you'll make the same sounds as you die." Her hand moves forward, I stop it easily, gripping her wrist tightly and wresting the stake from her fingers.
"I've beaten you before." She's glaring murderously at me. I can feel her trembling.
"That you have." I concede and back away, pulling out my cigarettes and lighting up. "This town, and you, have kicked my ass on several occasions. More than I care to remember. This time is different."
If she'd brought the Scoobies and a good crossbow, I'd be floating in the breeze right now, but she never understood the concept of teamwork. Too afraid of pain or of loss; she's never willing to risk anyone else. I bet she sent Faith off in the opposite direction tonight. Emotion overrides logic. There isn't a vampire in existence who could take on two Slayers and win, but here she is. Alone. Always alone. We have that in common.
"This is me, Slayer." I glance at her through a cloud of smoke. "You've never met the real me. Not 'til now."
"Why are you doing this, Spike? Why this crazy attack on Slayers? Have you lost your mind?" She still doesn't understand. She could argue with old Spike because he was whipped and neutered. There's a hint of something in her voice that surprises me. Pain.
"Come on, Slayer. Do what you came for." I flick the cigarette into one of the shadows in the alley. "Let's dance."
"Good bye, Spike." She sounds confident. Resolved.
We dance. It's lightning. Fluid, fast, fierce. She's strong, determined, and I can tell she's holding back just a little bit. I'm not. I'm loose, relaxed, and for the first time since that night in the high school so many years ago, there is nothing to keep me in check. This is just the dance.
Her small fists catch me, splitting my lip and raining down bruises. I'm flying backwards, crashing into the dumpster along the wall. Growling, I vamp out and catch a kick meant for my head. Twisting her ankle, my foot connects with her knee and she hisses with the pain, stumbling away from me when I let go of her. I follow. Smashing my fist into her face, seeing blood spray across my hand. She blocks, gets a punch in that knocks me back a step. I lean away, missing another blow and catching her wrist. Muscles roll and I hear tendons pop, jerking her arm tightly behind her, my other hand catching a fistful of hair.
I can hear her heart pounding inside her body and see the blood pulsing in her neck a few inches away from my fangs. It's almost over. I'm still expecting a kick or a head butt, she never gives up. She's wounded now. Because she didn't understand. Didn't understand that she doesn't know the real me.
Buffy isn't the deal. Faith is the deal. This is just supposed to be fun. It's not. That stops me from sinking my fangs into her neck, still holding her tightly, pressing her against the brick wall to trap her. Part of me is waiting for the familiar passion, the lust, to take hold at the proximity of our bodies. I can smell her shampoo and the vanilla lotion she's fond of. I know every curve of her body like I know my own. This should be arousing. Exciting. I should want her. I don't. The fire's gone.
Her blood is calling to me. I can kill her. I should kill her. Part of me wants it. Wants her blood pouring down my throat, making up for the broken heart she left in her wake. For treating me like an animal. The image of her lifeless, drained body slumped against the dumpster has a certain appeal. I can see the funeral. No one will be there but Harris, Willow, and the kid sister. Her own father probably won't have time to come. I didn't get to attend her first funeral. It had been daylight. That brings more memories. Of Glory, of that summer with Dawn. Dawn.
Promise me that you'll kill me too.
I always keep my promises.
Letting go of the Slayer, I shove her viciously against the brick, turn and run from the alley. This wasn't in the brochure. I wasn't supposed to be running away. I was supposed to be draining her, ripping her throat open, tearing her apart. The bloodlust was gone, fading into the nothingness of me. What's happening to me? I couldn't kill Dawn. I couldn't kill Buffy. I'm still pathetic. I'm still the pathetic vampire I was. Even my rage is dull. I came here to kill and I couldn't.
A fledging crosses my path. His dust floats to the ground after I rip his head from his shoulders, snarling like the animal I am. A sick, impotent animal. The forest closes around me. I'm clutching my head, trying to sort through the tangled thoughts and emotions. Something is very wrong.
Sinking to the ground, I'm struggling to remember why I'm here. What am I doing? There are only fragments just beyond my grasp. Fear slips, icy and biting, down my spine as I realize I'm losing myself. Losing my sanity to the emptiness the soul should have filled. Have I lost my soul somehow? Did William escape the confused wreck I have become?
I hate this. I hate what I've become. I hate myself. More than I hate Dru, more than I hate Angel. There are no words for the depths of self-loathing I have discovered. I'm trapped in it, drowning in it. Breathing it in, feeling it burn like acid. I have wrapped myself in lies. Playing at being a man. Playing at being a vampire.
I am still weak.
Buffy limped home, tired and frightened. She found Faith and Dawn working on a batch of brownies in the kitchen. Xander and Willow were laughing at a joke she hadn't heard. Seeing them smiling was painful.
"Buffy?" Willow saw her first, her eyes widening as she took in the bruises on her face and the limp. "What happened?"
"Spike happened." She winced as she eased herself onto one of the stools. "Could you get me a couple ice packs? He did a number on my knee and shoulder." She had lost most of her range of movement in her right arm, holding it against her chest tightly. Her knee was still screaming.
"You should have told me you where you were going," Faith said angrily. "You could have gotten killed."
"I've beaten him before."
"He's a large pile of dust now, right, Buff? Please tell me you killed the bastard." Xander pressed one of the ice packs against her knee, carefully lifting her leg onto another stool to elevate the injury.
Buffy shook her head. "He had me. All he had to do was bite. I couldn't have stopped him. But he didn't. Just ran off."
"Maybe he doesn't really want to kill you." Dawn's voice was hopeful but subdued. She had been quiet for several days, lost in her own thoughts.
"I think we're past any cuddly feelings toward the vampire, Dawn. You need to get over it. He's not the Spike we knew. Something's happened to him. He's different." Buffy rubbed her temples, head aching from his fists.
"Maybe we should find out what happened to him. Did Giles ever figure out where he's been?"
"No." Willow shook her head. "He dropped off the map four years ago after he left Sunnydale. There's nothing. The only person who knows what happened is Spike. And I don't think he's up for friendly conversation."
"Willow. I need you to do a disinvite spell." Buffy sighed. "I never did it. After he left."
"I'll get right on it. I have the supplies at home."
"Thanks, Will." She glanced around the room at the concerned faces. "I'm sorry most of my exes try to kill us all. I have really tragic taste in men."
Faith swung her jacket over her shoulders, "Don't worry, B. I'll get the bastard." She started toward the back door.
"Faith." Buffy shook her head. "Don't make the same mistake I did. Wait for me. A few days and I'll be good as new. He can't take both of us." She paused, waiting for her to return to the group. "I was stupid. I shouldn't have gone alone."
"Damn right." Faith glared at her coldly for a moment before she relented and returned to her seat.
"We'll get him. Soon. Just wait." Buffy felt like crying. Felt like breaking down. She had to be strong. She was the Slayer and she carried the weight of the world, of everything on her shoulders. But Faith was a Slayer and some of the weight was hers to bear. It was hard to remember that. "I need you to kill him, Faith. I can't do it."
"Buffy?" The question may have come from anyone in the room.
"He knows me. Knows how I fight, my moves. He knows me better than anyone. I can't beat him." Buffy smiled sadly. "I need you."
Faith was silent, her inscrutable eyes dark with emotion and something akin to pride. For the first time since she had arrived in Sunnydale, she relaxed, leaning against the counter and smiling. "It's cool, B."
I'm tired. Weary of life. Weary of my own confusion and pain. I wasn't healing. Nothing was getting better or easier or lighter. The weight of the world was driving me to the ground. I would be crushed, destroyed. Why had I come back here? Muscles ached, nerves fired gunshots through my body when I tried to move.
The trees were whispering above my head. Spilling the secrets of the earth and stars. Were the stars singing? Was I supposed to name them? Where was Dru? Miss Edith. I could ask Miss Edith. When had I gone insane? There was nothing left. Just an empty hole. An empty soul. Drifting away into madness. Fear screamed, fury raged. I was crawling through the leaves, branches whipping my face and arms as I fought Mother Nature herself. Every step was a battle. Every day a war. Fighting for my soul and my sanity. I was losing. What was left for me?
Promises. All I had were the promises I had made. I could fulfill them. Then I could disappear. Fade away. Burn to dust and finally be at peace. Just keep my promises. Kill the girl. Protect the Key. Simple. Keep it simple.
William hid, terrified by the madness inside. The demon pulled forward, struggling to survive, to live. Clinging tooth and nail to anything that would lead me away from a dusty end. Not hope; there was no hope for me. Not redemption; it didn't exist. Just life. Just another moment of being. The taste of rabbit blood in my mouth, down my throat, was sickening. I don't know how long I've been in the forest, wandering, starving, hiding from the sun and the eyes of God. Forever. It feels like forever. I struggle to my feet and take to the night, my face a mask of animal hostility and desperation. Kill the girl. It meant death and peace. Just kill the girl.
I can smell her moving through the darkness. Everything else in the world is lost to me but the onslaught of smells washing over me. Dirt, water, rotting leaves beneath the underbrush. Every smell pulls me forward. Musky; it reminds me of the magnolia trees I left behind in New Orleans a lifetime ago. There she was. Vanilla was far away. Lavender was long gone. Concentrate on the Magnolia. I can hear the sound of the ocean as I near the docks. Waves lap the shore, salt filled air stinging my nose. Keep moving. Foot after foot. Get the girl. Kill the girl. My fangs cut into my lips, blood dripping down my chin. There was screaming inside my skull.
Away from the docks. Away from life and light and safety. I'm following her along the coastline. Vanilla is no longer there. Lost behind me in the forest. Looking for me, searching for me with death in her hands. Trees clear and I see her. Magnolia. She's beautiful in the moonlight. Pale and dark. Like Dru. Does she hear the trees whispering? I can hear them. Chattering like old ladies. Gossiping. There's the vampire. The one with the chip and the soul. He's come back for his beating, to carry his sin. Back for his death. He's going to kill the girl. Kill the girl. All the voices will go away if I can kill the girl. Things will be simple again.
I'm flying through the air. I see her hair tumble across her shoulders as she turns around. Dark eyes widen. The stake comes up too late and I've wrapped my arms around her, crashing into the ground and rolling down the rocky beach. I'm locked in a deadly embrace, breathing in the scent of her hair, her body. Her blood is pounding inside her. I can smell it. Hear it. Surrounded by whispers and waves, we plunge into the cold water.
My hands are around her neck, forcing her under the water, eyes blurred in the darkness and by my own madness. She's kicking against me, clawing my arms and hands. Trying to escape. Trying to break my promise. I have to keep my promise. I have to kill the girl.
She's still. Magnolia lies quiet in the dark waters beneath me. I've done it. Someone is happy. A little girl in red galoshes with dark, evil eyes and a Cheshire Cat smile.
William is screaming with rage and pain, wrenching the demon out of control. My hands pull out of the water and I'm staring down at her pale, lifeless face. Pain burns through me like lightning, ripping me apart. I'm clawing through the water, pulling her weight up from the depths and into my arms. Half crawling, half dragging myself and her body back to the shore. I'm panicking now, pushing her dark hair away from her face. I'm a vampire. I don't breathe.
I can breathe, William shouts inside my head. I do it all the time. I smoke, I breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out. I lift her chin, pressing my lips against hers, cold, lifeless. Breathe out. Nothing. Again. Breath out. Wait. Again. There's sound. Something inside her. Water rises in her throat and she's choking. I can hear her heart beating in her chest. Bringing her back to me. Back to life. Water is pouring over me. I'm holding her tightly against my chest, sobbing into her hair. Begging for anything to take away my life. A stake. The sun. Anything.
"Spike." Her voice is hoarse, harsh in the night air.
"Had to," I mutter incoherently. "Had to kill the girl. Promised I would kill the girl."
"What are you talking about?" She's holding her throat protectively. I can see the marks of my hands on her skin. Sweet Magnolia. In my arms, shivering and full of life. "What's wrong with you?"
"I'm nothing. There's nothing inside of me." My eyes are closed. The whispering of the trees is fading. I am a void. I am emptiness. I am the darkness of evil and death. In my arms, Magnolia, she is life and living. She is not empty. She doesn't pull away from me, staying in my embrace, shivering in my arms.
"Spike." She sounds lost and small. Not afraid. Magnolia isn't afraid. "What happened to you?"
"Spark. The spark. It burns." I'm choking on the words. "Save me. Please."
"What?"
"Save me. I'm nothing. I'm a monster. Save me."
"How?"
"Save me." There is nothing else left in me. No words. No voices. Nothing but the scent of Magnolia and the ocean. Am I holding her or is she holding me?
"Spike. Get up. We have to get out of here." Magnolia is lifting me. Pulling me back to the trees and the darkness of the forest. "Tell me where to go, Spike. Tell me where you live."
I'm mumbling directions. Right. Left. Forward. She is warm. Burning into my arm, searing my chest with her heat and life. Full of life. Heart beating. Pulling me through the darkness, lifting me from the void of nothingness swallowing me. William has the lead. He is strong and in control. Leading her through the woods, answering her prompts. How did he become so strong?
Leaves change to concrete and tar. My feet are dragging, brain disengaged. I'm spinning. Falling. She's opening a door and light stings my eyes. Pulling me through the threshold, she pushes me against one of the walls, leaving me to close the door behind us. Knees buckle and I sink to the ground, finally noticing my wet clothes.
"Spike? Spike. Come back to me, Spike." Magnolia is shaking me. I want to bury myself in her scent, her life. I'm still so lost. She's helping me to my feet again, across the room to the bed. Letting me fall. Falling. There's nothing but darkness to greet me. Before it swallows me down, I try to smile. I've gone mad. No more mind games. No more mind.
"Giles. Please tell me you have good news." Buffy twisted the phone cord around her wrist. It was noon. Faith hadn't come home.
"I'm afraid not." Giles sounded upset. Very upset. "A new Slayer has been called. Faith is dead."
Buffy sunk to the floor, clutching the phone tightly. "No. This isn't. This can't be. I can't. I can't lose another one." Dawn hurried to her side and they clung to each other. "This is all my fault," she whispered into the receiver. "I let her go out. It should have been me. I should have stopped him."
"It's not your fault, Buffy." Dawn gently took the phone from her sister's hand, whispering goodbye to Giles and hanging it up.
"It's not fair. She didn't get to...I didn't get to."
Dawn rocked her sister quietly, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words through her own tears. Buffy would be next. She hoped Spike would remember her request. She couldn't live without her sister again. Wouldn't do it.
"Faith?" Willow clutched Xander's hand, knuckles white.
Shaking her head sadly, Dawn kept her hold around her sister's slender frame. "She's dead. Another Slayer has been called."
"Do you think he'll come after us next?" Xander put his arm around Willow, trying to comfort her.
"He will." Buffy looked up, eyes red from her tears. "And he'll die. He is going to pay for this." There was silence in the Summers home. The silence of grief and loss. And hatred.