Chapter 34: Time after Time
Disclaimer: No ownership. I'm just perpetually on my knees before the altar of Jossverse. :P.
Rating: I think I'm boring everyone to death repeating the same thing each time. See the first fourteen chapters if you haven't, yet :)
Summary: This is the summary of the last couple of chapters and anything important I thought needed to be added. :D.
AU from the ending of Season 4. Riley and Buffy have 'made up', while Spike has finally realized his true feelings for Buffy. Daniel, Cassandra, and Dawn, have also uncovered and old poem that may or may not be a prophecy. And, as all prophecies are wont to be, it's cryptic and doesn't make sense :P.
A/N (Thank-you very much to kim and Dreylin for your reviews! I'm sorry about the story being a bit hard to follow in places… maybe someone can help me to clear up the hard-to-follow parts by pointing them out? I'm glad you like the pacing and characterizations, though. I plan to expand more upon Daniel and Cassandra's part, because they're playing quite minor roles at the moment, to tell the truth. I'll also try to work on the clarity of this. :D. Thanks, also, to kim, for your constant reviews so far. :D. Spike's internal yelling definitely has a point, but Buffy's too far in denial to see it. Of course, she'll wake up soon to that, hopefully :P. And about your guesses for the passage? Well… your guess is as good as mine :P. Thankyou again both of you for reviewing!)
Hmm… it looks like I didn't manage to do the one-chapter-a-week thing. However, a good note is that my writer's block has almost completely vanished, so I'll try to make it up to you! Thank you for all the support, guys. That's what is keeping me going. :D
Now onto our cough regularly cough scheduled chapter! I hope you enjoy. : )
8 8 8
Home alone.
In Sunnydale.
Was…
A very, very, very…
Scary thought…
Okay, fine. So technically they weren't alone. And technically they had done this before. But time had been when the sun was still shining cheerfully, upholding the town's name, and so didn't have the problem of moonshadows chasing themselves across ever corner of the room that the electric lights faded near, and the ominous threat of creaking noises and doors banging shut from the wind (or something else, they feared) or other suspicious happenings like squeaking doors that opened by themselves.
Which was the situation they were in now.
"Where the hell is Giles?" Dawn demanded agitatedly. "He should have been here hours ago."
"He probably got caught up in the Magic Box," Cassandra proffered.
"It's not like him, though," Daniel fretted, jumping again when a tree branch scraped against a window. "He usually rings, at least."
"I'm more worried about your mum at the moment, actually," Cassandra unconsciously twisted a strand of black hair around her fingers like she did when she was nervous. "She should have been here an hour ago. I hope everything's alright."
"Well… she gets held up at the gallery a lot," Dawn said dubiously. "I'm just…"
"Aaahhh!" they collectively shrieked as something thudded upstairs.
They huddled together for about fifteen minutes in complete silence, memories of the subtle and not-so-subtle warnings of danger ahead from the book spread in front of them echoing in their heads.
"'All to hell' is never a good thing, is it?" Cassandra finally piped up nervously.
Daniel jumped as the same branch squeaked across the window.
"No, it's not," he and Dawn agreed simultaneously.
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The sun was beginning to sink down in the horizon, painting the sky in a multitude of beautiful, bright pastel colours. Joyce fumbled in her purse for the keys for a few seconds, before fishing them out and finally locking the doors, the key making a satisfying 'snick' as she turned it. She laughed.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes," Mary giggled, brushing her straight, honey-brown hair out of her face. "I thought he was just interested in the Russian pottery…"
"Well, he must have been more than interested if you managed to convince him to buy three different pots," Joyce grinned roguishly as their high heels clacked along the pavement to the waiting carpark. "And not just interested in the pots, either."
Mary blushed. "I… I had no idea."
Joyce tut-tutted. "Come now, Mary," she smiled warmly. "Don't tell me you of all people don't know how to see the signs."
The youthful assistant blushed even deeper. "Signs?" a sudden coy smirk graced her face. "Well… perhaps. I don't have the years of experience, though, Mrs. Summers."
Joyce chuckled as the carpark grew closer. "Experience only plays a little part, Mary. And you don't have to keep calling me Mrs. Summers, you know. 'Joyce' is fi…"
She stopped abruptly. A strange expression crossed her face. Mary stopped a few steps after she realized that the older woman wasn't walking beside her any more.
"Mrs. Summers?"
Mary looked behind her, to see Joyce swaying slightly, her eyes open in surprise.
"I think…" Joyce falteringly pressed a hand to her forehead, "I…"
Mary screamed as she watched her keel slowly forwards and collapse onto the ground.
8 8 8
Was he drunk?
Spike took another swig and stared blearily up at the stone ceiling. Yep, he was drunk all right. Besides the periods in which he lay completely passed out, saturated in alcohol, he hadn't drawn a breath without accompanying it by the swilling of beer bought with money from his extensive poker session a week previously. No kittens this time. Just stone cold cash, that was making him stone… cold…
Drunk… time after time after time…
He giggled insanely. It was such a good joke. Of course he was good at making jokes, at making people laugh at him. That was his job, wasn't it? To make people laugh at him. Laugh at the excuse of a Big Bad he'd become. Laugh at the excuse of a vampire that he'd become. To laugh at William the Bloody, to laugh at the Awful Poet tacked on to the end of that name, at the Slayer of Slayers sunk so low to laugh… to laugh… laugh… laugh…
Yep, he was definitely drunk.
Not that he minded, of course. His vision swirled around hazily as he giggled again, before gulping down another mouthful of the liquid that he couldn't taste properly any more. Maybe he should…
He passed out again for the third time, effectively cutting off his thought process.
8 8 8
"Willow… pass me that book."
Willow tiredly handed him another text, watching Giles grasp it eagerly and begin flipping through pages, as fresh as he'd been three hours ago. Tara noticed her lover's exhaustion and quietly squeezed her hand. Willow smiled back gratefully, keeping their hands intertwined as she studied the pages in front of her.
'The Icari then came upon the land in great numbers, ravaging the vampyres and humans alike. Their lesser brethren cried out to them in entreaty, begging them for mercy, offering themselves as servants to the Icari. But the Icari laughed mercilessly and slaughtered all who came in sight, only keeping in reserve those youthful enough for life to be drained out of them, in particular, those with supernatural powers of the Icari's ilk that they could feed upon. Allying themselves with the Silent Death, they swept over the land in search for the emerald jewel.'
"Any luck?" Tara whispered.
"I'm not sure," Willow shook her head and frowned slightly. "It sounds almost like a fairytale. You know, the strange and obscure references all of Giles' books have to make, or else they're not Giles' books."
Giles ignored most of the last part. "Obscure references? To what?"
"Look at it," Willow pushed the book towards him. "All 'Icari' and 'Silent Death' and… and… 'emerald jewel'. What's that supposed to mean? They could be anything."
"W-wouldn't the emerald jewel j-just mean the… emerald jewel?" Tara asked. "I mean… what else could it be?"
"You know these things," Willow laughed exasperatedly. "The 'emerald jewel' could turn out to be… um… something not emerald or even remotely jewel-ly."
"Icari…" Giles mumbled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why, but that sounds familiar."
'The search lasted for 14 years; 14 years of terror and massacre. Eventually, the Icari began capturing instead of merely slaughtering and built a colony that spanned many leagues, the land that they had pillaged and subjugated, along with those made slaves. The colony ended at a deep, near impassable ravine that had a barrier they could not cross, for the West people's powers were strong, and their fear tempered by defiance kept them vigilant. Even the Silent Death could not cross, and it was said that wintry blackness, a silence and a scream worse than hell spread from it to encase the land for many days at its failed attempt. Many Icari tried to cross, certain that the Emerald Jewel lay within the depths of the other land, and many lives lost and wasted by the frustrated Icari sending their slaves across the chasm along with their cruelty.
It was an impasse, but the West people could not stand by and watch others die. For many days the Council deliberated, before finally deciding to take a risk that could have destroyed all. At dawn, they called upon the power of the Emerald Jewel with Sheratan's voice and offered it the sacrifice of Starlight. The Icari were overcome by a wave of light, and the Silent Death humbled and diminished, and then cast into the Chasm. And the people rejoiced.'
They looked up at each other silently.
"But what does this have to do with what's happening?" Willow asked.
Giles looked grim.
"We'll have to see. But sometimes, I fear, the old legends are not only legends. And the enemies vanquished may only be sleeping."
8 8 8
The door banged.
"Spike! Up! Now!"
"Oh, I'm up, love…" Spike slurred drunkenly.
"Since when was still being in bed 'up'?" Buffy demanded, before understanding dawned and she scrunched her nose up. "God, you're a pig, Spike."
"I'm the Big Bad, darlin'" he drawled. "And don't you know it."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this, Spike. I need you to do something for me."
"Since when did you ask me, Slayer?" Spike suddenly looked a lot less drunk, and Buffy unconsciously took a step back at the change as he sat up in bed and looked straight at her. He took in her surprised look and laughed. "Don't be so shocked, sweetheart. I can hold my drink. How many times have you bloody well driven me to it?"
She took three quick steps and hit him. Hard. In her favourite place.
"Bloody hell!" he swore as he fell backwards onto the bed, dripping blood. "Could you try to speak without your fists for once?"
"I don't have time for this, Spike!" Buffy repeated again, this time her eyes flashing with suppressed anger. "Mum's in hospital, I can't contact Giles, Riley's disappeared, and Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya aren't answering the phone! And Dawn, Cassandra and Daniel have been alone in Giles' apartment for the entire night since they've gotten back from school!"
Spike leapt off the bed, fangs bared before she'd even completed her first sentence, and was out the door by her last. She stood shocked as she heard the stream of curses that trailed behind him.
The conscious thoughts that trailed through his mind.
Joyce… The Juniors…
The thoughts that he was pushing away now rather effectively back behind the still slightly inebriated curtain.
She hurts me. She still doesn't trust me, after all I've done, all I've proven. Time after time after…
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Blood.
Was that it?
He wondered as he felt the mesmerizing rhythm of it along his veins. Remembered that day, pounding into the wall, watching it flow over his callused skin, his split knuckles decorated with a liquid that he once thought was just red and white blood cells in plasma, carrying vital nutrients and chemicals from one place to another. Later, as his knowledge of anatomy grew, the names grew more complicated, and he learnt more of the functions, along with the role blood sometimes played in the fascinating brain chemistry he studied. But he was only just beginning to glimpse at it. It was more, so much more than just cells… so much more than just the carrier of nutrients and chemicals… so… much…
"Harder…"
The words slipped out from his mouth like a crimson wave, falling from his lips to shudder over his body and crest through the air to finally lap gently against the vampiress' ear. She didn't need to be told twice. Eagerly, she sucked deeper, and the responding groan that boiled up from his depths more than rewarded her for her troubles; even if she was just looking for the sweet blood she fed on, it was nice to be appreciated for what only she and her kind could give him.
He moaned as she dug into him, feeling the cool ivory of her fangs, her skin, gliding through and over him like death, calming and exciting his body at the same time to greater depths and soaring heights of ecstasy and pain… and that feeling. The reason he came back, time after time after time… why he'd been coming here for two fortnights already, like a moth drawn to flame. Why he'd lingered, time after time in this cesspool of corruption that was draining him dry yet feeding him back a terrible life filled with a new understanding. How it felt to be needed. And with that understanding, the new one that had been nagging silently at him for far too long, undermining his security and quietly weakening his conviction. Of what it felt like to be not needed. To be, he thought bitterly, almost beneath someone, instead of equal or above. Equality. To be needed. Dependence and independence. That fine balance that everyone needed deep inside; to feel safe, to feel complete.
To feel love.
Even as the vampiress' hands began roving lower and lower and the blood pulled through his system like a tide, a single tear threatened to escape. He felt a surge of pleasure overwhelm his body and he groaned at the increasing intensity of it, but inside his heart still quaked breathlessly in his body.
I love her. She doesn't love me. And she won't ever love me. She doesn't need me. She doesn't love me…
Words that had repeated themselves in his head. Time after time after time.
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