Promises
The sun was climbing up above the horizon one more time. Or one last time. It was almost lost behind the heavy bank of clouds and overshadowed by the pouring rain. Stormy weather suited Faith, her mood, and the road that lay stretched out in front of her. The stake in her hand bit like ice and it was still warmer than the emptiness that had replaced her heart.
"B's wrong. I'm not in love." She told the garbage can beside her. Good conversationalist. Listened without judging and never interrupted her.
The third vampire had told her where Spike was before she dusted him. In the warehouse behind her, in one of the strange half basements found in southern Louisiana. There were only a few places in the city where you could dig more than two feet without hitting water and even those flooded most of the time despite best attempts to drain them. Underground access tunnels were quickly abandoned, becoming safe havens for alligators, rats, and the occasional getaway. Even that wasn't enough for some of the people to give up the dream of a real basement, usually meant to conceal what they didn't want others to find. They dug as far as they could and built the rest above ground, raising concrete squares that looked like coasters for the buildings above them, floating precariously on treacherous ground.
Rocking slightly, shivering against the chilling breeze and pelting raindrops, she pulled her legs tighter against her chest. Boots scraped against the wooden crate beneath her. Why wood? Why not metal or plastic? A small voice in the back of her mind answered, because wood is alive, it breathes and drinks and rises up to the sun. Blessed by the sun. It wasn't the wood that killed vampires, it was the life inside.
"I think too much." She rubbed her nose with one hand. The garbage can slouched against the cement and rattled with the drum strikes of the kamikaze water droplets careening through the sky to dash themselves into pieces against the rusted metal. Blind to the danger and their own inevitable demise. Like people. Like Faith. She watched them splatter, trickle, rejoin, and eventually become a river pouring down the side of the can and onto the dirty street. Into the tunnels where reptile eyes gleamed and rodent claws tap danced over the ancient stones of someone's misbegotten dreams. Into the earth.
"They're different. Vampire turns a human. Demon moves in and takes over." She curled tighter into her protective ball and huddled against the wall. "Angel. Angelus. Angelus is a bastard." They were meaningless words to a pile of metal and refuse. Empty, hollow words that were the only weapon she had against the fear inside her.
It had happened so fast. Dying, coming back, trailing after him to find her world crashing around her and pain beyond the telling of it. So fast. Pain blurred into cool, strong hands and husky voice soothing and easy in her ears. Her life had changed in an instant, leaving her unsteady and scrambling for balance. It made every kind of sense in the way that never made sense at all. She had changed. So fast. Could it be real if it was that fast? Her counselor in prison had been a stupid, arrogant bitch who had looked down her nose through trendy cat eye glasses and tapped Faith's file with practiced and superficial compassion. Myra. Who said that nothing that fast could be true.
You form strong emotional attachments very quickly, Faith. But they're not real.
Bullshit. That was her only response before she had leaned back in the chair and kicked her feet up onto the edge of the desk.
With all the wrong people. You never take enough time to get to know anyone. You let them have control over you.
No comment. Faith kept her mouth shut. She didn't need any of Myra's fucking psychobabble. But she had listened. In spite of all her protestations and denial, she had listened and it had made sense for the first time in too many years.
You didn't feel loved so you have a hard time loving.
Love was a fucking joke. She didn't believe in love. Faith had turned away, looking out the window and waited for the interminable hour to end. To head back to the rows of bars and hostility from the other women. Because Faith was different. They all knew it and they hated her for it as much as they feared her. They didn't understand. No one understood.
"I'm not in love." She repeated to her metal companion. "But he understood. He did. He knew that I...that I was afraid. He didn't care that I was broken." The lid answered with the clamor of rain. "Broken into all these little pieces and I keep trying to fit them together into something whole. But there has to be something missing because there's still this big empty space right in the middle where my heart should be."
When was the last time you let yourself love?
When was the last time anyone had loved her? Had anyone ever loved her? She handed the question to her silent confidant and made a mental note to melt it down afterwards. Couldn't have anyone or anything hear all her secrets, all her pain, and live to tell about it. That's what it was about after all. Pain. The skin on her wrists was still discolored, pink and smooth compared to the surrounding flesh. Bracelet scars she would wear forever. Or until some baddie finally beat her. She used to think no one could beat her. Nothing could beat her, nothing but fear itself.
You're afraid of being hurt.
Who wasn't? Who got up in the morning and begged the world to hit them just a little bit harder for just a little bit longer? She had. When there was nothing left, nothing familiar, nothing as comforting as the pain. Primitively, it was the most basic human response. Pain kept mankind fighting, kept the huddled masses breathing, kept them all alive. When she hurt, she knew she was still alive. Still real.
Then it changed.
His hands touched her and he made her real again without the pain. Tucked her safely into a fortress of strength and calm, wiped her tears away and didn't care that her face was scarred, her soul was dark with blood and self loathing, or that she'd been just another stupid kid searching for acceptance. And now the whole world expected her to forget about every word, every caress, everything he had been to her. Forget. Be the Slayer. The weight of the world was finally on her shoulders and Faith no longer envied Buffy. She would never be jealous of her again. Never. Except that one insignificant thing that didn't matter anymore. Not really. She cast a sideways glance at the garbage can. It wasn't buying her lies either.
The Spike who had held and comforted Faith didn't exist anymore. There was just the demon now. The demon who had gone to the ends of the Earth to get a soul. For Buffy.
A clap of thunder startled her and she shuddered against the cold, brushing ineffectively at the soaked fabric covering her arms. Angel had loved Buffy, Angelus had hated her. They lived together, bound together in one body, constantly fighting and tearing at each other with Angelus barely in check. Was Spike the same? Only the demon was in love with Buffy and not the soul? Had it been William in her arms all along?
"Not love." She stretched her cramping legs and wiped the rain from her eyes. Slayers don't fall in love with vampires. It couldn't be love. Unless love was supposed to be painful.
This hurt like a bitch.
He was gone. She'd even told them to do it because she was desperate to save him any way possible, even if it meant losing him to Buffy. If it meant that she would never feel safe or cherished again. Could she do it without him? Face the world, face the mirror. Could she ever face herself again? Alone.
Maybe it wouldn't be as hard, knowing that he wasn't the same; that the Spike who had slept at her side wasn't the Spike she had to kill. Maybe it was best this way. The trashcan rattled in disagreement. More lies. If there was any part of the Spike she knew, even a flicker or a shadow, anything left behind inside of him. Anything at all. She'd never let him go.
Not even to save the world.
It's quiet in my head. No voices. No William. Just me and the howling of the wind outside. At least, I think it's the wind. Where am I? Who am I? Was it this bad after I got the soul? This lost. This confused. Which way is up? Which way is down? Which way am I going? Heaven or Hell. Don't believe. Not anymore. Nothing but dust and wind.
Blood. I need blood. Not really. I don't want it. Not one for self-reflection. Don't have one any way. Not anymore. Not since Dru.
Damn Miss Edith. Bloody doll messed up the whole world. Told Dru to bite me, she did. Fucking doll. Or maybe it was the burning baby fishes. Crazy Dru. Beautiful, damned Dru. Black goddess. Why am I thinking of her again? I don't know. Memories string together like pearls around a woman's neck. Or popcorn draped over the branches of a pine tree. Christmas. Mother. With hair pulled tight and a smile at my poetry. Was it really mine? Mother with long hair, loose and unbridled. Spitting poison at her son. But I'm not her son. Not any longer. Right?
I'm not William. William is gone. They took him away and now I'm all alone. Forever. This body never dies. Not without wood or sun or the curve of a blade slicing through my neck. Does it hurt to die?I t hurt the first time. Just for a moment. Am I dying? It hurts.
Spike.
Someone is whispering through the howls and roaring silence. There's a voice. Go away, Miss Edith. I don't want any tea. Or cakes or whatever Dru used to feed your bloody porcelain face.
Spike.
Who are you? Voice? Nameless voice in the air or in my head. I can't tell. What do you want? I have no soul to sell. Not anymore. It's gone. Torn out of me by white little hands and red hair. Sod off. I'm alone. I want to be alone.
She's coming.
Who? Dru? Mother?
Faith.
Of course she's coming. My Slayer. Brown hair, long and heavy in my hands. No. Not long. Not since I pulled her from the water. Saved her. Did I save her? No. William saved her. Not my Slayer. What am I? Am I still a vampire? Do I still burn?
Please don't hurt her.
Why would I hurt her?
The things he said. About blood and pain. Do you remember?
I remember. The man. Spinning webs of fantasy and bitter guilt in my head. Before they took William away. Hurt the girl. Save the world.
He lies. You can't trust him.
Wouldn't hurt her anyway. She's a Slayer. Sweet Faith who hides behind angry eyes and fists. Dark goddess. Not black, never black like Dru. But dark. She still glows. Slayers glow. Like Faith, like Buffy. Slayer for Slayer. Killed two. Fucked two. Even score now.
Snap out of it, Spike. Pull yourself together.
Sod off. You're just a voice in my head. Last voice in my head was a bloody nasty fellow. Shifty bloke. Anya's dead. I'm dead.
You can't be crazy when she gets here. She needs you to be strong. They all need you.
I know. Spike has to save the world. Spike the vampire. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Just a pile of dust. Alone.
You're not alone. I'm here.
Who are you?
A friend.
Don't have friends. Evil, blood sucking fiend. Undead murderer. Don't feel bad. No guilt here. Just a killer, an animal. Soulless, disgusting thing.
Spike. You won't be alone. I'll be with you.
You can't be. This body is empty. Just me now. Then...just dust. Empty, lonely dust.
Listen to me.
Are you Miss Edith?
It's me, Spike. William.
Bloody Awful Poet.
The same.
Why? You're gone. I felt you leave.
You don't need me, Spike. Not any more.
No. I'm not real without you. I'm just a shell. No spark.
I will always be with you.
Why?
To help you see. To help you understand.
I don't. It doesn't make sense. Just wind and dust. Dust and wind. And blood.
You'll know.
What? How? What am I looking for?
Something...effulgent.
She was inside now. Out of the rain. But it was still raining and she was still frozen. Another silent step over the dusty floor, making her way through the maze of crates and boxes with all the speed of creeping snail. Pulled forward, holding back. Caught in a tug of war between what she wanted and what she had to do. What would be left for her when he was gone? Did it even matter if the world ended when her entire world would be destroyed with a piece of wood? Faith had always chosen herself above everything and everyone else. Gotta take care of number one; there was no one else to give a damn about her. She was tired of being alone, of looking over her shoulder and watching her back. She hadn't worried about keeping herself safe because she knew Spike would do that. Even from herself.
He was gone, she reminded herself. Another step. William was gone. Spike wasn't hers. She didn't dare believe that he could love her after what he had done for Buffy. Another step. Not hers. She was in the wrong line of work if she was expecting to actually have a relationship that lasted more than one night. Especially with someone who was supposed to be her mortal enemy. Just get down there and do it. Save the world. He knows you're coming and he knows what you have to do. Just get it over with.
There would be nothing left in this world without him, no reason to be the one to save it. She didn't care about the world and it didn't care about her. Never done anything but fuck her over. Gave her a mother who didn't love her, a father she'd never known at all, made her a Slayer so she'd never fit into the normal world. Never be normal. What had the world done for her? Nothing.
She wasn't doing this for the world. It was for Spike. Or William. Whichever one had asked her to be the one to end it. For her Spike. No sweeping nobility or heroic act. She wasn't Buffy. She was just Faith.
I'm talking to myself. I must be. Round the bloody bend I've gone. There goes Spike into the realm of dancing stars and burning fishes. What is it about souls that leaves sanity in shambles? Chains clink as I shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot against the rough concrete. As if there is such a thing as comfort when one is surrounded by cement. I can smell earth and rock swathed in mold. There are lights above me but the bastard didn't bother to leave them on when he left and I'm lost in the darkness. It's comforting.
Back into the night where I belong, back into the shadows. I'm a vampire. Sex and blood, that's all. That's all that matters other than keeping my body parts out of the sunshine and avoiding pointy wooden objects.
Not true.
So you weren't a hallucination. Thought I was losing my marbles, finally cracking under the strain. Soul in, soul out. Too much for a bloke to handle without breaking somewhere.
You're getting better. Not so much with the crazy.
Sound like Buffy.
Nice girl.
How do you know her?
You got the soul for her, remember? Brought me back for her.
Did I? Long time ago, mate. Did I love her?
More than anything.
Did you love her?
I didn't know her, Spike.
Right. Course. Didn't think of that. Not like you've been up there...wherever...watchin'.
Not really. Don't fancy watching myself kill people.
Yeah. I can see that. What about Faith?
She's a good match for you.
For me. Not you then?
She's too intense for me. Too raw. But you...you like the burn.
Bloody masochist, that's me. Now what? You gonna be lurkin' round in my head for eternity? Not that I have that much of it left, world endin' and all that.
I'm just here long enough to help you back on your feet.
What happens now?
You'll know what to do.
I just want the dance to end. Off to my pretty little hell with the rest of the vampires. Maybe look up some old friends.
You think you know...what's to come...what you are. You haven't even begun.
He looks the same, she thought absently as the row of light bulbs timidly flickered and then came to life with a snap, pouring light into the room. Blond hair tumbled in loose curls and for a second, she could almost feel it slipping through her fingers again. He would protest, muttering about her messing up his hair and reaching to tousle her own dark locks. Stiffly, automatically, she took the steps one agonizing step at a time. Sweat trickled down her back, betraying the calm expression on her face.
Blue eyes watched her casually. There was the difference. The moment of hesitation, the way he would search her eyes and face quickly before saying something, the flash of indecision while William considered his options - gone. In his place was a creature who took action, who was comfortable and assured with his lightning reflexes. Instinct. Maybe the soul never really adjusted to the inhuman aspects of the demon, always checking strength and speed and being surprised. Face, hands, skin, they were all the same. The ease and confidence in his shoulders was new. Fingers dangled unconcerned over his knees as he followed her progress down the stairs.
The strong thing, the Buffy thing, would be to stake him now while the chains still bound him and tethered him to the wall. He looked wary as she took her first step toward him. A wooden chair was sitting just out of his reach. Gleaming innocently from the seat was a key. She wondered if his captors had intended to return. Had they been caught in the storm? Or had they intended her to find him? The possibility made her pause. She wanted to ask him if he knew if this was a trap or trick. Had they hurt him? Had he fed? If he needed blood, she wanted him to take hers. She didn't have a knife with her but fangs would do and she'd have scars to match the bite from Angelus.
She didn't move or speak. Her eyes were half convinced he wasn't real, just a mirage in the damp silence. Familiar jeans hugged his legs, folding and curving in all the right places. She loved to watch him, follow the play of fabric as he walked. The dark T-shirt tucked into the jeans, his slender waist enough to make even women jealous. If she touched him, he would be solid beneath her fingertips. Muscle and bone. Forever lean and hungry, he always seemed to walk that edge between too little and just enough. He only took what he needed.
He shifted as he got to his feet and she was convinced that he could hear her heart bounding inside her chest like a scared rabbit. But it wasn't fear. She wanted to fall into his arms, to feel safe and protected, for the world to fade away as he kissed and teased until there was nothing left but the feel of his hands on her skin. The amazement in his eyes, as though he was always surprised she was there, lying next to him. Looking at her like she was a triple fudge sundae with blood on top and an untouchable goddess at the same time. With respect. He was the only man who had ever respected her. Granted, the only man she'd ever given a chance and more than a second go. A lifetime with Spike wouldn't be enough. She wanted it. For the first time in her life, she wanted someone, just one person, to be there every night and every morning. To share and have everything with her.
But her Spike was gone. She had to remember that. This wasn't him. Tears threatened to humiliate her in front of the Slayer of Slayers and she fought them back with everything she had. Don't show weakness. Just do it. Just end it now. Her arms wouldn't move. Feet were locked onto the floor hopelessly. She cast a silent apology to the world and to Buffy. Maybe it was weak. Maybe it was wrong. But she needed this. She needed to do this on her own terms. She needed to know if there was anything left to save.
The dice were loaded.
From the moment Lurky slapped that clawed hand on my chest, it was all downhill. Just trying to get by, like a weed on the side of the road that no one ever really sees and if they do, they wonder how to kill it. A blight on society. I'm the grass in the sidewalk cracks and the static in the radio waves that obscures the best songs. All odds were against me. I should have known. At least my sanity is back. Mostly.
Here I am. Back to what I do best. Slayers.
Faith is standing in front of me. Face white, knuckles white; vise grip on the stake in her hand. Of course she brought a stake. Death with dark hair, doe eyes, and a body to kill for. A million things I didn't do with that body. It's amazing. William steps out and all those inhibitions go with him. Almost. She fits and doesn't fit at the same time. What I feel when I look at her is as confusing as those first few moments after the soul was ripped out of this husk. Uncertainty and clarity all blur together into shifting, sliding moments of understanding lost in a sea of I couldn't bloody care less.
"Spike."
I wish there was time enough to listen to her. Hear every word in the every language, just lie back and let that husky voice wash over me.
"Slayer," I respond coolly. I'm free now. To spend a moment without listening to the poor sods I left in filthy alleys, the women I made scream in all the wrong ways, every child whose innocence ended because of me. Or Dru. Daft bint probably saw this coming. She should've fucking warned me.
"Soul's gone."
Is that a question? Or is she just stating the obvious? Of course the bloody thing's gone. Ripped out of me, felt like someone reached into my chest and tear it out my spine through my rib cage. Who would've guessed it hurt more to lose the fucking thing than to have it put back?
"He's gone," I answer. Cause it wasn't a thing, the soul. It was William. And now that I can see through my own eyes again, not through his, not through the eyes of a human soul, I realize that he wasn't a thing at all. The chains rattle as I square my shoulders, keeping both eyes on her as she moves through the room.
"Is there another way?" Her voice is steady, even. All business.
Please don't do this Faith. Don't be strong. Not now. Don't leave me with nothing but ice and duty. I know what you're here to do. To save the world. I know it's all that matters. Please tell me that I made a difference. Tell me that I'm leaving something behind. With you. God, Faith, don't shut me out now. I stay quiet, grinding my teeth together and choking back the words racing through my mind. They don't make sense and they hurt. Fuck, why do I still hurt? She's still waiting for an answer.
"No." Not one I'm willing to take anyway. I look away, unable to stop the strange whirlwind of emotion and thought threatening to drown me. I want her, her hands and her lips, the feel of her skin and the heat of her blood. I want to her to get away from me, not to see the monster I really am, now that I have nothing, now that I'm not real. What the hell is wrong with me?
"How do you want to do this?"
"Don't fucking care." She jumps at my shout and I force out all thoughts of apology. I'm a vampire. I'm a demon. Demons don't apologize.
"Then we'll do it right." Her hand reaches down to the seat of the chair and she holds up the key to my chains. Has she lost her bloody mind? Don't let me out. Just use the goddamn stake and put me out of my misery. Why am I miserable? The chains fall away. She's careful not to touch me, skin to skin. I can still feel her heat and smell magnolias. I'm going to miss that scent when I'm killing daisies. Soon as I'm free, I pull away from her, rubbing my wrists and desperately fighting back the wave of conflicting emotions. She brings me back to the present with her fist.
"Bloody hell, woman!" I shake my head, checking my jaw for cracks. "Heard about that right cross. Not bad, Slayer."
"Slayer. Vampire. We fight."
"If I win?"
"Then you win." She shrugs casually, fists up and ready. "I don't give a fuck."
"And the whole wide world?"
"Let it burn."
"Haven't seen this side of you, Slayer." I raise one eyebrow and let my gaze rake over that gorgeous body. "My kinda girl."
"Probably right about that." Another swing, I dodge this time and step away from her, not ready to enter the fight. "I haven't seen this side of you either. Spike. Not for a long time anyway."
"Yeah. Warm champagne." I can't keep from laughing. "Was it good for you?"
"The best I've had." Full lips curl into a smirk. "How much of it was you?" She studies me thoughtfully for a moment. "I know how it works. William and Spike. Two people trapped in the same body. Who's been driving?" A boot cracks against my chest, knocking me backwards into the concrete wall. I catch the next kick and flip her over, stepping forward as she lands on her hip and side. My hands burn as I drag her to her feet and leave my first blow stinging across her face.
"Bloody Slayers. You're all the same." I throw back at her, surprised at how angry it makes me, how disappointed. With Buffy, it was all about the soul. No soul meant evil, disgusting thing. No soul meant monster. Faith was no different. She walked down those stairs and saw an animal in chains; wanting to know if she'd let a demon sully her.
"Who was it? Was it you or William?" Voice still level and controlled, she gets another hit in. My head spins with the impact and I grab hold of her, trying to get a firm grip on her arms as she twists away.
"It doesn't work that way." I growl through clenched teeth.
"Who was it?" Dark eyes flash angrily and her voice finally rises. "Were you the one fucking me? Or was it him?"
"It's not like that!" I shout back angrily, dodging her right fist and catching the left in the stomach. Backhanding her sharply, I grab the back of her neck and twist her around to pin her against my chest.
"Who was it?"
"Does it fucking matter? Got you off just the same."
"It matters to me." Her voice is quiet again and I suddenly realize what she's asking. I have to choose. If she thinks I'm not the Spike she knew, it'll be easier for her. I don't think I can hurt her like that. Bloody hell, I have to try.
"Faith." It's the first time I've said her name aloud. Spinning her around, I pull her against me, kissing her hard and urgently. Warm hands latch onto my arms and she presses her hips against mine, driving me insane. I'm shaking when I jerk away, shoving her hard enough to send her crashing to the floor.
She glares up at me from the floor. "What the hell?"
I shake my head tiredly. Pretend it doesn't matter. "Don't get all sentimental. It was just sex."
"Just sex." She repeats in disbelief. "Just sex? You never had it so good, you son of bitch." She's back on her feet and swinging.
I take another hit and leave a mark on her cheek with my own. "Don't get me wrong, you're a tiger in the sack. And that thing you do with your tongue. God. It's bloody fantastic." Grabbing hold of her, I slip my hand between her legs, watching as her breath catches in her throat and her eyes darken. "Damn good fuck. But don't pretend it was some grand love affair."
"You wish." Using my arm as leverage, she wraps her legs around my waist and slams her fist into my jaw. "You're still lost in your Buffy delusion. You're sick. Running off and getting all souled. To be like Angel. You'll never be Angel."
Shaking her off, I send her reeling into the wall, growling angrily. "Bloody hope not. He's a fucking idiot. Him and his suffering and road to redemption. He give you that load of rot too? 'Bout savin' the world and helpin' people? Count your lucky stars you never saw him and Buffy together. Bloody sickening, like watchin' a soddin' soap opera, it was. Doomed as all hell." I pause, realizing that I'm pacing and she's watching me with something akin to amusement. "What are you lookin' at?"
"You. Brooding."
"I don't fucking brood!" My shout echoes through the room.
"Pretty good Angel imitation to me. All you need is the hair gel."
I scowl angrily at her. "I'm not Angel. And I sure as hell ain't William. Bloody awful poet is long gone." Sort of. He hasn't been chattering in my ear for a while now.
"Too bad. I kinda liked him." She massages her shoulder tenderly. "Ready to go again?"
"What the hell are you doin', Slayer? Just stake me and be done with it."
"You want to die?"
"Hell no. Not like I have a bloody choice in the matter? I fucked it all up. World ending bullshit, remember?"
"I remember. Don't care." She moves away from the wall, circling me slowly.
"Not gonna fight
"Why not?"
"Don't want to."
"Yes, you do." She grins, eyes glinting. "I can tell you want it. Come on. Let's dance."
Good fucking lord. She's right. I'm screaming for a good fight. Just violence and blood, fists and fangs. Even William had wanted it, wanted to see her and hear her. Panting, blood pounding, the look on her face as she fought. God, she was amazing. The full Slayer package of death and righteousness all wrapped up in a bundle of curves and heat. I'm across the room in a second. Fingers claw at each other, fabric ripping as we fight each other and ourselves. I need more of her skin, more of her heat and her scent. The way she moans when I grip her breast just hard enough to leave marks, shoving her against the wall and tearing her shirt down the center.
She surprises me by pushing back and backhanding me. Bloodlust is screaming in my ears and I'm struggling to keep the fangs and ridges in check as we crash onto the ground, rolling and hitting across the floor. I haven't had it like this since Dru. Paris. The violence, the pain. Bucking my hips, I toss her onto her back and pin her down with my weight. I know she hates not being on top, not being in control. Half naked, she arches up against my chest, tangling her fingers in my hair and dragging me down into a brutal kiss. Every part of her body is as familiar as my own. I know the curve of her lips, the taste of her skin, salty with exertion and burning against my tongue. My hands know where to touch, grip, caress.
The kiss softens. Fingers spread across my chest and shoulders. Eyes closed, I move my lips to her throat, nipping with blunt teeth and bathing her skin with my tongue. Each movement is so familiar, so comforting. Her legs tighten around my waist, squeezing me with muscles I had only dreamed of for a hundred years. William was right. I love the way she burns me. It felt just the same without the soul. Under these lips and these hands, she would fuck me just the same.
But not me. It wasn't me. These weren't my hands. They were William's. I had stolen his body, murdered and raped with his hands. I was the demon inside and she wasn't really seeing me. Not even my own body. Just a holding pen for something that doesn't belong. She whimpers as I pull away from her.
"Spike?" Breathy, husky, wanting. God, I love that voice.
"It was me." I get back to my feet unsteadily, shaking. "It was always me." Just not my hands.
My head is spinning with the lightning inspiration; I grab hold of it, turning it over and trying to make sense of it. I am not William. I had never been William. All those words. Cecily, the frilly cuffs and collars crowd. They weren't directed at me and never had been. Spent so long, so many years, fighting against the memories this body brought with it, the personality that came with the blue eyes and cheekbones, that I had forgotten it wasn't really me. For more than a century I had fought against the bleeding heart poet I had never been. I wasn't even British. A nameless, faceless demon trapped in a human body.
And there it was. The epiphany of my unlife. I had a soul all along. It just wasn't human. I don't even know what a vampire really is, what I really am. Outside this dead skin, these eyes that aren't mine. Darla used to say that what we were, we would always be; the past would always define us. Somehow. But the glamorous bitch was wrong. I had never been human, not me, not the demon inside. Not until Lurky put William back in with me. And William taught me what it meant to be human. What humanity really was.
Now that I know, I'll never belong in this world. Not a man, not a demon. I've got nowhere to go from here. I've done it all, seen it all. There's nothing left for me in this world. Not even Faith. Slayer, vampire. It's that simple. She has a life ahead of her. I just exist. But she won't even have a chance if the whole bloody mess falls apart around her. She'll spend the rest of her days in blood and battle. The only chance she has, the only thing I have to give her, is dust.
"Spike?" Soft fingers brush against my back as her arms wrap around my waist comfortingly. "What is it?"
Words abandon me. I settle for pulling her into my arms, burying my face in her silken hair in an attempt to ignore the war raging in my head. In a few moments, ugly reality will come crashing back down around us and the same terrible choices will be laid out before me. I know one thing for sure now. I am not the man I was, I am not the demon I was, I have changed. My fantasies aren't of blood and violence, they are of life and love. Could I ever love this woman in my arms? It's a little disappointing that I'll never get the chance to find out, never know what she'd want for breakfast in bed. Never spend exhilarating nights killing demons, watching her fight and knowing, anticipating, the intensity of the sex afterward. Who am I fooling? It's beyond disappointing. She's unbelievable. And I'm going to miss the rest of her life.
"Nothin', luv." I'm dead inside. Nothing clean, nothing living. No goddamned soul. Just a corpse, walking, talking, animated by something dark and unholy. A demon.
"And you stopped short of a home run because of nothing? Sorry if I don't buy that." Leaning her head against my chest, she traces slow circles in my skin.
I shake my head, needing to clear some of the cobwebs away. Sinking to the ground, I pull her into my lap and press gentle, soft kisses against her bare neck and shoulders.
"What should we do now?" Nuzzling my throat, she nips playfully at the skin.
"What do you mean?"
"We could get out of here. Out of this town."
"Faith." My fingers slide through her cool hair. "World's gonna end, luv."
"There is that little detail. But that doesn't have to stop us."
"Aren't Slayers supposed to be all for savin' the bloody world? Think I got that one written down somewhere."
"I'm the bad Slayer, remember? The one who doesn't follow rules. I'm not Buffy."
"Don't I know it." I grin when she glares up at me. "Just sayin' is all. Buffy woulda left the bloody chains on and staked me already."
She gnaws on her lower lip for a second before pulling out of my arms and facing me. "About what you said earlier. That this was just sex, not some big Romeo and Juliet deal."
"Sorry if I hurt you, luv. I don't...I just..." I shake my head as my voice breaks off. I don't understand.
"No. You're right. We don't love each other." She smiles sadly, touching my cheek with a longing that seems incongruous with the rest of her personality. "Once Buffy touches someone, they never really love anyone else. I get that. I just want to know if maybe...if things were different. Someday. Do you think you...I mean, could you...ever?"
"Love you?"
"Yeah."
I cup her face with one hand. "I have nothin' to give you. Just a vampire." Stopping her protest with a kiss, I hold her lips against mine until she has to pull away, gasping for breath. "Promise me somethin'."
"What?"
"Find a nice boy. Like Captain America. Someone who'll take good care of you."
"No such animal."
"Promise." Her skin is hot against my lips as I brush them against her forehead.
"Two point five and the white picket fence?"
"Abso-bloody-lutely." Smiling, I rub my knuckles across her cheek. "Promise me you won't be alone."
"Only if you promise me something." Her fingers stray over my shoulders, dancing across my skin.
"What?"
"Don't die."
"No control over that, pet." My answer is sad and a little forced. Pulling her tightly against me, I hug her with as much force as I dare, trying to hold on to the sensation of her. Just one more moment won't hurt anyone. I close my eyes and savor every scent, every sound, every touch that has been mine for a few short weeks. There are fresh wounds on her back, covered with bandages. I wasn't there to protect her. I just want to protect her.
"Could you ever love me?" I ask suddenly, not sure where the question is coming from. Rephrase. "Do you think you could learn to love me?"
"I don't know." Her eyes skitter away from mine and she's biting her lower lip nervously. "Maybe."
"Without the soul?"
"I don't fucking care about the soul."
"Good to hear." I lift her chin with my left hand and catch her gaze. My right hand closes around the forgotten stake lying at my side.
"You didn't answer my question. Could you? Ever love me, I mean." Her cheeks flush and I can tell she wants to look away. I hold her firmly in place.
"Thought I'd never love anyone after Buffy. Tore my heart out and ripped it to pieces, she did." Brushing one finger over her lips, I pause to wonder how the events of my life arranged to bring me here. To her. "Maybe I was wrong."
Her lips tug into a shy smile. "Maybe?"
"Yeah. Maybe." Smiling easily for the first time, I'm suddenly relaxed. This is it. No need to watch my words or keep up any pretenses. "Maybe I'm half in love with you already, Slayer."
Fresh tears well up in her eyes and her hand comes up to cover mine. I catch the flash of understanding as she sees the stake in my hand and thank whatever devil created vampires that my reflexes are just fast enough. Pain shoots through my chest. My heart. The last thing I see is her eyes. Her tears.
The Incarnation of Evil felt the world break around him. Walls shattered. Reality ripped into pieces as the last vestiges of the energy barriers collapsed. And then...nothing. Confused, he turned around to see the vampires frozen in place. Unmoving, unblinking. Just stopped. Everything had ground to a halt. As though time itself had ceased to move forward.
Time.
His face distorted into a mask of rage and hatred. He had come too close to have it taken away. "CHRONOS!"