Title: I
Was Brought to My Senses (Chapter 5 of How Many Days)
Disclaimer: Joss doesn't play with his toys anymore. Someone has
to, dammit!
Rating: R
Pairing: Buffy/Spike, Dawn/Other, Willow/Giles, Willow/Other
Summary: Post-Season 7. This is a sequel to Don't Stop the
Dance'
Distribution: Anywhere you like, just let me know.
Feedback: is welcome. ~Xionin (xionin@beautiful-freak.com)
Thank you: Pam and Maribel: my wonderful betas. I'd be lost without you!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walked out this
morning.
It was like a veil had been removed from before my eyes
For the first time I saw the work of heaven
In the line where the hill had been married to the sky.
And all around me every blade of singing grass
Was calling out your name and that our love would always last.
And inside every turning leaf is the pattern of an older tree;
The shape of our future, the shape of all our history.
And out of the confusion, where the river meets the sea
Came things I'd never seen. -Sting
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I Was Brought to My Senses
Light this bright should burn.
It did before.
Just before. Or is it just now?
Hard to tell how longhow much, what's the word, time?
Yes, time.
Time moves. No, it passes.
Through time.
Over time.
Out of.
This istimeless. Without time.
He becomes aware
of seeing, of looking around.
Where there
had been nothing but light, suddenly there are shapes and shadows forming.
He thinks he might feel fear, but there's no fear.
Tendrils of compassion
reach toward his center.
They entwine
themselves with his energy, stroking, caressing.
It'spleasurable.
Blinking. That's
what he's doing. Blinking witheyes.
And now there's
movement. He has weight. Substance.
He has form within the Light.
The shadows are
growing towards him, but he's not frightened.
On the contrary,
he's anticipatingsomething.
William.
What is William?
It's who you are. Or would you prefer Spike?
What is Spike?
Also who you are.
Wordsno. Names. That's what they are: names.
Your names. Choose one.
How?
What feels better? William or Spike?
Feels? What
is feels?
I don't understand.
William. What do you see, inside, when that word is said?
Fear. Pain. Loss.
Humiliation.
Fear.
I don't like the word William.
And Spike? What about that one?
Buffy.
What is that? Golden sunshine.
Shining
Love. Love. Pain. More love.
Well?
I like Spike.
Figured you
would. All right then, Spike.
Time
to have a chat.
There is something
hard beneath him and the weight has increased significantly.
He becomes
aware of armsa chestmoving. His chest is moving up and
down.
It's a strange sensation.
Above there are
patterns: swirling clouds of color forming.
He reaches
out towards them, but they are too far away for him to touch.
Something does
touch him, though, something soft and warm.
Something that looks a lot like what he's reaching with.
A hand.
Yesa handtouching
him. At the touch a flood of images infuse him.
Knowledge
plants itself inside him, taking root.
Hands.
Feet.
Legs.
A body.
My body.
I am.
I am Spike.
He understands that he is lying on a floor. Sitting up, with the help of the hand, he turns his head towards the origin of the helper.
She looksfamiliar: Soft, pretty and barefoot in a flowy black gown.
She crouches down beside him and smiles.
His voice sounds odd to him. Thick. Where am I?
She stands and walks over to a table. It's round; a beautiful hardwood parlor table. Spike looks around the room. It is so familiar and instantly comforting.
Didn't you sit here with your mom and read to her? Her back is to him and she's looking through a book on the table. There's a settee next to it. She sits, facing him, flipping through the pages.
Spike frowns as he takes in more of the room. Brocade curtains. Oriental rug. Fringe lamp. Oil painting of
Spike jumps up and immediately falls back down on his butt.
The young girl giggles. Spike laughs too. It sounds like music.
You give yourself some time to get used to being in that body again, okay? She smirks at him. He nods.
Where 'ave I been? And why are we here? Am I I'm dead, aren't I? He doesn't feel particular sadness, just states it as a fact needing confirmation.
she stands up, placing the book back on the table, and walks around the room. That's up to you.
Spike stands up again, this time more slowly. His legs are still a little shaky, but he feels much better. He's wearing white. Something about that makes him uneasy.
If you want to change itgo ahead, she says over her shoulder as she studies the portrait. Spike looks back down at his clothing and it is all black.
Yeah, Neo
She turns halfway and smirks. It's neat isn't it? He grins
and nods.
You're
a cutie. Spike feels warm all of a sudden. He touches his hands to his
face.
The word is a reflex.
She must have been blind. She turns back to the painting. There's definitely a note of sadness in her voice.
Spike crosses the room to stand next to her and look up at the portrait.
Papa.
She doesn't look at him when she says it, but Spike knows that she is watching him.
Buffy. The vampire
slayer.
I'm a vampire.
Not anymore, silly, not technically. She turns towards him, waits for him to reciprocate, and places her hands on his face. Mmm warm. She smiles closing her eyes.
warm. I'm WARM! He backs away from her and stares at the color in his hands. They're a peachy-pink instead of a grayish-white. Am I he turns his hands over and over and sees the blood pumping through the veins.
You're not human. She studies him for a moment. But you're no longer a vampire either.
Spike frowns a little and he looks up at her, his arms dropping to the side. What am I? Where am I? And why? He feels the heat rising to his cheeks again, but this time it's not so pleasurable.
She turns from him and sits back down on the settee, patting the seat beside her. You have a lot of questions, don't you? She laughs a little.
Spike softens a bit and shrugs his shoulders. Wouldn' you?
Oh I did, when I first came here. She looks around the room. Well, not here, obviously, but She pats the seat again. Why don't you come over here and I will try to refresh your memory, ok? She looks at him with such an innocent smile that Spike can't help but give in. He walks over to her and sits. He's still amazed at the detail of the room.
Why? It's yours. It's in youpart of you. And quite nicedifferent from mine for sure. She feels the fabric of the settee admiringly.
What is this place? He keeps his voice low to hide the apprehension he feels.
well...think of it as a pit stop. She searches the ceiling for the words. Ok, let's start with this: what do you last remember?
'Spike...no!
No, you have to come. Please don't' leave me here alone...please! I
love you!'
You're not alone, lamb. You never will be again.
Spike's eyes are closed tight, but he is calm. It's a memory, but it's dull and distant. The only thing he feels is lovefor her.
Told you someday she'd tell you. At that, Spike opens his eyes and tilts his head slightly. The girl is studying him now, her face soft and sad. The blonde hair on her head is glowing, as if lit from within.
He says in a breath, a small smile on his lips.
She laughs a little. Not surprised you don't remember me, we weren't properly introduced. She puts out her hand.
He takes her hand in between both of his, his eyes moving over her before settling in hers, tears glistening in them.
Cassie ducks her head and removes her hand from his. She gets up and strolls around to the other side of the room. Spike stretches out his legs, following her with his gaze.
So where are we, right?
yeah. And don' forget the why part. He grins.
She turns and faces him from across the room. Her arms are folded. This is how it is. You were a vampire. He nods. You killed thousands of people. He nods again, closing his eyes and wincing. You sought out your soul. He looks down at his hands; a flash of pain crosses his face before his features soften again.
And you saved the world.
Spike gives her a look that could only be described as shock. He pulls his legs up, placing his feet flat on the floor.
His mouth twitches a bit, eyes growing wider by the second.
You, SpikeMaster Vampire of the Order of AureliusWilliam the poet and devoted sonSaved. The. World. She smiles brightly, clasping her hands and tilting her head to him in tribute.
Spike lets out a long breath. Can't ve. Not me. It was Buffy.
It was you AND Buffy. You both, working together, saved mankind. She walks towards him and kneels down before him, taking his head in her hands. She kisses the top of his head. When she pulls back, Spike notices the tears on her cheeks.
What is it, luv? He crinkles his brow, cocking his head to the side in his concern.
You two.
that. Bloody impossible, wasn't it? He chuckles, but it's a sad sound.
No. It wasn't. She just fought so hard against it until it was too late. I didn't realizeI should've said something to her. Cassie closes her eyes and another tear slips out.
Ahhh, pet. Spike instinctively slips his arms around the small girl to comfort her. I doubt it would've made a difference. The Slayer and menot meant to be, is all. I'm thankful for the time we did have.
Cassie stands up and turns away from him. Her hands are clasped in front of her bent head, as if in prayer. Spike rises and walks around her to face her.
What is it? He ducks his head and tries to make eyes contact. She looks up and reaches down to take his hands in hers.
You both have been wronged. It wasn't supposed to end this way. Her expression is very serious, troubled. Spike gives her hands a squeeze to encourage her to continue. She looks around a moment before her eyes settle in his again.
She was supposed to be with you.
She was- no. No. She wasn't s'pose to die with me. No. No! I won't accept that. He pulls his hands from her and walks to the other side of the room. The room dissolves into a park scene. Hyde Park in London, Spike recalls, deserted in the moonlit night.
No, she loves you, Spike... Cassie's voice seems so far away that he turns to see where she's gone. She's not there. He searches the landscape. I'm right here. Cassie appears right at his side, her hand on his shoulder. Let me show you.
She points to a bench nearby. Buffy is there. She has her knees drawn up to her chest. Spike's eyes go wide.
It's a whisper. She is dressed head to toe in black. Her normally golden skin is somewhat pale. Her hair, now down to her waist, is a deep golden color and whips in the strong breeze.
The moon catches each nuance of highlight in her hair. It glows around her like a halo. But there is something darker inside the ring of light. Something attached to her that he's never seen before.
She misses you, Spike. Cassie's voice is in his ear. She is still grieving. He takes in the sight of his love. She looks so different. Older.
She lookswhat's happened to her?
It's been nine months...almost a year, Spike. One year since you- Cassie watches this information sink into him.
A year? The tears that threatened to spill upon seeing her are now falling free. His voice is laced with sadness and love. Still grievingfor me?
Yes. One year for her. Longer for you. Much longer for him. He has no sense of time. Could have been hundreds of years. Thousands.
Why is she here? And alone? S'dangerous. Spike's brow wrinkles as he studies her. She looks frail in her grief, but beyond beautiful. Still there's a sadness that weighs on her shoulders. It hovers about her like a fog dampening her natural glow.
Like I said, she misses you. She feels Cassie releases his shoulder and he steps forward. He walks all the way around the bench where she is curled up. He crouches down, leaning against the worn wood, and reaches up to touch her hair. His hand stops short of her.
Buffy's lips are moving, but he cannot hear her words. She brushes her hair out of her eyes. He notices how red they are from crying and his heart breaks.
She doesn' know I'm here, does she? He is aching to touch her.
Oh Buffy Spike hangs his head, unable to stand to be so close to her and not offer comfort. Cassie comes around to him to comfort him. She strokes the nape of his neck and murmurs soothing words. God. I'm sorry, Buffy. So sorry.
Shhhh. Let's get away from this. Cassie tries to help him stand.
No! No. Spike's eyes are wild in his outrage. I don' want to leave her here like this. Look at 'er!
Cassie tries to calm him.
No! Tell me what you meant, that she was supposed to be with me. I don' understand. Why am I here? What's happening? He is suddenly frantic and rises during his outburst to turn and confront the girl with the secrets.
Calm down, I'll tell you everything. Just pleasecalm down. They'll think you weren't readythat i-it was a mistake. She lowers her voice as if protecting the conversation from unseen ears.
Realizing suddenly that things are not as they seem to be, Spike looks around. Buffy is still there, but he notices that he cannot hear her. He can't even smell her or sense her in any way. He feels no breeze. He hadn't even felt the wood of the bench beneath his fingers.
What's going on here? He is more calm, but also more alert. He regards Cassie with caution as he steps back from her.
Cassie's eyes plead with him silently as the world around them dissolves once more. She turns from him and he follows her gaze to a man sitting at a small table. The surroundings are not unlike the Light. It's less intense but still soothing.
Come, young one. The man's voice thunders through the space and in Spike's head. He closes his eyes momentarily until the reverberations die out. The voice is significantly diminished. I forget sometimes.
Cassie walks over to the man and sits across the table from him. They both look at Spike expectantly. He slowly approaches them.
And you are? He declines the invitation to sit.
I am. The man smiles and it sends shivers over Spike's skin.
he says, his hand on his hip defiantly. I don' know what's going on around here, but I'm done playing games. Not in the mood.
Oh really, young one, then what sort of mood are you in, then? Hmm? The man is small, but he doesn't give the impression of being small. He has large brown eyes, angular features, luxurious black hair that hangs just above his shoulders, small lines in his face that hint at age. Spike looks him in the eye for a long moment and instantly regrets it.
LifeLove..Anger. Joy..War..Peace..Indifference..Humanity..Demons..Pain. Rage.Screaming.Laughing.Cruelty.Kindness.Spirit.Flesh.BoneBloodBileStartFinishMiddleBeginningEndDawnDuskStars EarthDyingLivingPutridAromaticFuryEcstasyRaptureLovinglovinglovingloveloveloveloveloveOVERWHELMINGLOVE!
Spike crumples to the ground, his chest heaving.
You were right, sweet Cassie. He is ready. Spike hears the man's words just before darkness extinguishes the light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Spike!" Buffy had awakened with a start on the park bench. She had struggled to remember where she was...and when. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, but it always leaves her trembling and disoriented; unable to shake the feeling of him surrounding her and still not being able to reach out and touch him.
Her thoughts had been troubled as she walked back from the park. The night seemed too still, and the sounds of everyday nightlife too distant. She'd sat on the bench and let the tears wash over her. No one was around to stop her from falling asleep on patrol. No one there to placate her. No renumerations from Giles as he vacillated between being empathetic and indifferent.
She knows he tries, but she also knows that he will never be able to forgive Spike of all his transgressions, no matter what sacrifices he had made. Talking about...that day...with him and Willow; reliving it again this morning with the Watcher, Richard - it had all come at too great a price to her fragile peace of mind.
She needed to get out; get away from them all. Just for a little while. So she'd decided to go on patrol.
Funnily enough, the streets of London are surprising devoid of much demon activity. You would think, given its violent history, that dark energy would thrive there. That not being the case, Buffy has taken to patrolling on occasion when she needs to regain some sense of self; to recall the normalcy she'd once had. Normalcy that, even on such a strange scale, she had taken for granted all those years in Sunnydale. Normalcy she would give anything to have just a little bit of these days.
But things, though moving towards a new kind of normal, are different now. She can't seem to settle into a routine. Work, research, caring for a nearly-adult Dawn; these things are designed to ease her back into life. But every step she takes towards that leaves her feeling like she's betrayed her past. Betrayed him...by forgetting.
As if she could ever.
Every other thought she has, waking or sleeping, is Spike. Always Spike. She talks to him when she's alone, telling him of her day. Sometimes she can hear his smart-ass commentary on the way she manhandles her hair or neglects to drink water, or chews her food. Cor pet, you're like a bloody cow! Close your mouth, luv. Be the lady that I know you are. She smiles at the way his Victorian tendencies color even her memory of him. My girl, you are. Always and forever, luv.
Yes, baby. Forever.
Buffy slips into her quarters quietly, not wanting to wake the house. She sighs as she pushes the door closed behind her and spies the bed across the room. The time has come for sleeping. And sleeping means dreaming.
Where would her dreams take her tonight? Moaning in ecstasy beneath the cool form of her lover? Screaming in agony as she feels his spirit leave the earth in a fiery blaze? Drowning in regret as she attempts to atone for her treatment of him...before?
She hesitates to find out. But even the most painful dream can bring her closer to him. Her mind's eye hasn't yet forgotten the cadence in his voice or the rhythmic flutter of his eyelashes when he laughed; the coolness of his fingertips as they played against her skin or the impossibly blue depth of his eyes. As long as she has these dreams, she'll have him.
Buffy undresses, her eyes never leaving the bed. She does it slowly, as if he is there watching her. The cotton of her shirt slips over her head and the warm air of the room swirls around her. She tosses the fabric to a nearby chair. Walking towards the bed, she can imagine him there: eyes filled with desire, lips moist and slightly parted as he anticipates her approach. Her touch. She closes her eyes and exhales deeply. "Oh, Spike." She whispers, removing the rest of her clothes. The light touch of her own fingers sends shivers throughout her body, forcing it to remember his ministrations; the way he'd done this very same thing once before, undressing her delicately as if she were a porcelain doll. "I miss you so much."
Her knee hits the bed and she bends it, crawling on top until she can lie down on her side facing the window. Though moonlight streams in through the parted curtains, most of the room is in draped in the black of night. The memory of his crypt, drenched in pitch, comes unbiddingly into her mind. She closes her eyes and remembers the sound of a striking match; the burst of flame and the glow of his skin as he lit the candles that surrounded them, creating a living painting. At moments like that, she always forgot that she wasn't supposed to love him.
Buffy opens her eyes and they rest on the candelabra; the gift from the Watcher. The thin light caresses the curves of the carved figures in the silver. Staring intently at them, Buffy almost thinks she sees them move; undulating beneath her steady gaze. She sits up and edges closer to the nightstand where it rests. The candleholders are desperately empty and the sight sends a shiver of discomfort through her body. They must be filled; the candles must be lit. It looks so...stripped; so lost.
She spins silently off the bed and heads into her bathroom, naked feet padding across the floor. She emerges with two slender tapers. Sitting on the side of the mattress, she steadies the candelabra with one hand while she inserts the candles with the other. She smiles as she strikes the match and lights them, one by one.
The room is instantly filled with a golden glow. The flames dance and cast long shadows on her high walls. She feels...like she's home. Scooting back on the bed, she lays down on her pillows and pulls the duvet over her skin. Buffy closes her eyes briefly and then looks again at the candles. She can almost feel Spike's lips brush against hers as she drifts off into sleep to meet whatever dream may come to relearn her senses of him.
TBC: Chapter 6 - You Still Touch Me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: You
guys have been so wonderful, telling me how you're enjoying the story.
I was so overwhelmed by your feedback, that I zipped home and posted this chapter.
I guess the more I hear from you, the more inspired I am. So keep it coming and
I'll write fast, faster, fastest!
Ranaslayer: I promise you it wasn't Spike kissing Colin through Dawn,
although that would've been interesting. ;] And Dawn will be quite a young lady
when I'm through with her.
Pattyanne and Jerusha: Of course he's coming back, don't be silly!
haha. Be patient. I think it'll be worth it.
Kat and jude: I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying it.
~Xio
