A/N: If anyone has read the original version of this story, please note that this updated version is incredibly different. The story I had started so many years ago was very rushed and very, very different from my writing style these days. This story will be a slow-burn Spuffy fic and will be told in two parts.
It is also important to note that I have changed certain canon story lines to suit my purposes (don't we all?). Anything you recognize is not mine. This fic is rated M for mature content. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this new and improved version of The Aurelian Prophecy.
The Aurelian Prophecy
Part One: There's No Way Out
Scotland 1888
It had long been his belief that nothing was more boring than lurking in the shadows and waiting for your prey to do something a mite interesting. Angelus reveled in the watching and waiting. The older vampire loved nothing more than slowly breaking his victim in every conceivable way. Spike just got bored.
He anticipated a beating when he arrived back at the sprawling estate house that his vampire family had commandeered for their stay, he was supposed to be playing student to another of Angelus' lessons, but the soothing lilt of an old familiar folk song had drifted to his ears. He found himself following the sound rather than watching the every move of his grandsire's latest toy as he had been ordered.
Cerulean blue eyes tracked the graceful movements of a young maiden as she gathered clothing from the drying lines in the cool breeze of twilight. His head cocked, ears listening intently to her soft singing as a nostalgic grin played on his lips.
"'Twas there that we parted, in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side o', Ben Lomond.
Where in soft purple hue, the highland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.
O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,
For me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.
The wee birdies sing, and the wildflowers spring,
And in sunshine, the waters are sleeping.
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again,
Though the woeful may cease frae their grieving.
O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,
For me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond."
Spike melted out of the shadows and, with a charming smile, started to recite a poem that he had fancied and memorized long ago as a human.
"There's an ending o' the dance, and fair Morag's safe in France,
And the Clans they hae paid the lawing,
And the wuddy has her ain, and we twa are left alane,
Free o' Carlisle gaol in the dawing."
The young woman was startled at the sound of his voice, her eyes widened, and Spike could hear her heart beat faster as blood rushed hot through her veins. He continued reciting the poem as he pushed his demon down, keeping his human facade a while longer. He had been practicing self-control these last few years, determined to be more than some ponce ruled by nothing more than hunger and sex as many fledges spend decades slave to...if they lasted that long.
"So ye'll tak the high road, and I'll tak the laigh road,
And I'll be in Scotland before ye:
But me and my true love will never meet again,
By the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond."
"Ye startled m', sir," the lass said once he had finished the poem, her Scottish lilt heavy.
Spike smiled apologetically. "Sorry, luv, I heard your lovely voice down the way, and I could not help but be drawn towards it," he told her charmingly, causing the girl to blush and avert her eyes. A small, pleased smile played on her lips.
"Ye ken o' Mr. Lang?" Her brow rose, and her hand waved as she referred to the poet whose words he had borrowed.
He prowled closer. "I do." He kept his expression kind and non-threatening as he neared her. "My mum would sing that song as well."
She looked skeptical as she tilted her head. "Well ken in England, is he?" Spike grinned, his eyes lighting up at the fire in her eyes.
"To those who appreciate their history, pet." He reached out and brushed a stray lock of crimson hair behind her delicate neck. His eyes briefly flashed yellow as he caught sight of the steadily beating pulse point, and he could feel his fangs itch with desire. She sucked in a quick steadying breath and backed away slightly.
Spike could see the wariness within her gaze. She knew she should fear him. It was an instinct that many did not seem to possess, and he respected her for it. His features shifted, and she let out a horrified gasp. Knowledge seeped into her expression as she quickly tried to step backward, only to find her back against a wall. She grabbed at the peggy-leg in the washtub to the right of her and attempted to break off the wooden handle, unable to find the proper leverage in her panic.
"Bhampair," she stated harshly in Gaelic as her attempts to fashion a weapon from the plunger-like laundry agitator became frantic.
Spike's head tilted in consideration as he watched her with a thoughtful frown. "You know what I am." Most of his meals only began to form an idea of what he was as the last of their life was being drained from them. Ignorant wankers. He sped to her side as he heard the wood begin to crack under her efforts and clutched her wrist, halting her movements. He caught her other hand as it came up to push against him and twisted it behind her with just enough pressure to keep it in place against the small of her back. She brought her head forward to crack against his, but he twisted to the side at the last second.
"Shh luv, won't hurt a bit," he promised as he brought her body flush with his, locking it in place with a tight grip that kept her from thrashing about. It took more strength than he was used to spending on his prey. Power coiled within the girl, and he hardened as he drew closer to her. A moth to the flame. He leaned down and nuzzled her neck before smoothly sinking his fangs into her carotid and drinking deep. Her hands shot to his shoulders, attempting to push him back. He was insistent against her, and she swayed against him. He dropped his hold on her wrists as he reveled in the sweet, strangely powerful taste of her life's blood. He felt her heart slow as her hands slowly drifted down his arms to hang limply at her side.
"Ainslee?" an older male voice called out from within the small house.
Spike's head shot up at the sound, and he smiled a gruesome, bloodied grin as he watched a shadow move closer to where he and the young woman- Ainslee, he presumed- were standing. Well...he was standing. She was leaning heavily into him, her mouth working nearly soundlessly. "An end o' th' dance," she murmured so softly he had to strain to hear her.
"Yes luv, An ending of the dance...but b'tween you an' me? No one is safe in France." His grin was feral as he bent down and cleanly re-entered the neck wound, finishing the job and dropping her dead to the ground just as the door swung open and a middle-aged man stepped to the threshold, eyes widened in horror and a crossbow aimed shakily at the satisfied vampire before him.
Spike glanced at the crossbow aimed at his dead heart and laughed wickedly before melting into the shadows as though he were never there. He thought of the girl, Ainslee, as he practically floated back to the estate house they were staying in. The girl couldn't be one of those slayers that Angelus had warned him of, or if she was, she wasn't nearly as frightening as the old poof had played her up, but she was something. She had known what he was. The old man had known too. Perhaps coming to Scotland for another of Angelus' obsessions wasn't a complete waste after all.
"O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,
For me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond."
He sang as he walked down the cobblestone roads back to where he could already sense Angelus' angrily awaiting him.
Deep red droplets of blood spilled from the young Slayer's wound and mingled with the earth. Deep beneath humanity's feet, the first fissure in Scotland began to open. Echoing throughout the continents. The dark energy spider-webbed out and sealed the connection with its sister Hellmouths across the world. Too far beneath the earth's surface for human ears, the distant roar of demons long banished rang out through underground caverns. Deep earth-dwelling demons scattered, abandoning their nests near the Hellmouth to escape the incoming storm.
Sunnydale
September 1997
Buffy rolled expertly to her feet and swung around to face her slow-approaching opponent, an evil grin lighting up his features. When he talked, he seemed to lisp around his fangs. "You're gonna die, Slayer."
Buffy raised an eyebrow and blocked the vamps punch, turning him so his back faced her and pushing the stake through his un-beating heart. "Boy, if I had a dime for every time I heard that one." She rotated her shoulder and winced slightly when a shock of pain raced up her arm. She looked around at the grave that had been filled recently and, after checking to make sure no other demons were waiting to take a shot at her, she hopped up onto the tombstone and settled in to wait and see if- she leaned down to look at the name carved into the stone- Jeffery Johnson would be rising tonight.
She dug out her history book with a sigh and channeled her inner Willow while she waited for Jeff to pop up. Time passed incredibly slowly as a warm breeze ruffled the pages of her textbook and caught her hair in its light grasp, pulling the blonde strands away from her neck and leaving goosebumps to chase their way up her spine at the loss. Lately, the night was loud, heavy, and dangerous. But some (rare) nights, like this one, Buffy could almost imagine she was out late in a small quiet town where nothing interesting ever happened- well...if you forget the '80's hair metal reject she'd already dusted and the fact that she was studying in a graveyard.
With a despondent heave, she jumped lightly off the headstone and tossed her book back into the bag she'd brought. She double-checked that her stake was tucked in safely at the small of her back as she glanced once more at the quiet grave. "Nighty night, Jeff." She slung the book bag over her shoulder and walked back towards home. She had really been hoping to see Angel tonight. They hadn't gotten to see each other much recently.
She easily jumped up into the tree outside her bedroom window and crawled into the safety of her home. It had been a long week. After they stopped the reassembling of the zombie football player, everything had been quiet during the days. At night while on patrol, though, Buffy had noticed a startling increase in the demon population out and about, which meant that she had been out later than usual every night the last week dusting, beheading, stabbing, and staking all matter of demons that were popping up. She kept hoping to see Angel during her patrols, hoping he'd show up and lend a hand as the demon body count ticked up ever higher, but he was rarely seen. Their relationship (if you could call it that) was still incredibly stilted, and she had no clue where they stood.
The nightmares that had haunted her after her fight with the Master had lessened now that she had destroyed his bones, but she still had them, complete with the acutely complicated feelings and emotions. Suffice it to say that she didn't look forward to sleep lately, and the increased patrolling that kept her from her bed was almost a welcome relief. With a small sigh, she took a hot shower before wrapping her injured shoulder. She looked at her reflection in the bathroom as she brushed her teeth, frowning at the slight bags developing beneath her eyes. She re-entered her bedroom and crawled into bed, letting out a quiet moan as she sank into her comfy mattress. After sending one last longing gaze towards the window where she knew he wouldn't be, she finally closed her eyes.
Buffy flinched back and squeezed her eyes shut against the bright, spastic, flashing lights. She squinted and willed them to adjust to the bad strobe light party around her. She saw shadows dancing around, popping up all around her. Hulking, monstrous, pigskin-head-looking demons. Demons with horns longer than Angel was tall were streaming out of what looked like a bright white light. They weren't the only ones. Things she had never seen before- not in person and not in any of the horribly boring books that Giles had forced her to read- were marching out of the light and into what Buffy felt was her world. They were legion.
She moved forward, eyes still squinting as she tried to make out the details of what she saw. And then the world went black. She could taste the palpable fear and pain in the nearly pitch-black air around her. The faintest trace of moonlight lent the slightest ray of light to her straining eyes as she edged forward, desperately trying to see something. The moon was not visible in the sky, and she wondered vaguely where the light was streaming from.
Buffy felt like she'd been walking for hours when finally she saw a distant yellow glowing light. She picked up her pace and hurried towards it, pulling up short as she took in the sight of what looked to be an old bar. Hesitantly she opened the door and stepped inside, feeling like she'd been transported back in time as she drank in the sight of the various patrons wearing way old-fashioned clothing and drinking out of beer steins rather than glasses. She caught a glimpse of a familiar form. "Angel," she called out. He didn't hear her, and she followed him out of the building. Bright white light flashed, and she saw Angel as she knew him now. He was standing on railroad tracks staring at her. At his side were three shadows that she couldn't make out. Angel and the three shadows pointed wordlessly to the left, and- not of her own volition- she started walking down the tracks, further away from them.
High up in the night sky, bright lights started flashing again, shedding light on the path ahead of her in increments as she moved forward. Her head snapped sharply to her right, and her breath caught in her throat as the lightning illuminated a heap of mangled corpses in the fields surrounding the train tracks. She looked to the left and saw more piles of the dead. Bile rose to her throat, and her heart dropped to her stomach as she started to recognize their faces. Mom, Willow, Xander, Giles, Cordelia. She dropped to her knees as she finally found herself staring into her own lifeless gaze. Deep within her was the resolute certainty that she had failed.
With a start, she shot up in bed, trembling in the wake of the images. She ran a hand through sweat-slicked hair and flinched as her fingers got caught in a nasty snarl. She glanced at her alarm clock. It was almost time to get up for school, which was of the good. There was no getting back to sleep after that, and she was in desperate need of a shower anyway.
Brazil
September 1997
The stars glowed brightly in the deep black sky marking the way for all who may be lost. In a ring of dead and dying bodies, a lone figure spun in tight circles, her arms stretched out in front of her, tiny porcelain hands clasped in hers. She laughed and danced as she listened to the stars whisper their naughty little secrets in her ear.
Sunnydale
September 1997
A scream echoed throughout the empty club as ashes reassembled themselves into a familiar shape. Panting unnecessarily, the woman doubled over, her newly formed body aching. Sunlight streamed in through the few windows the building possessed. Once the woman's mind caught up with her present reality, she made her way outside, keeping to the shadows, and disappeared beneath a sewer grate.
~BTVS~
His eyes squinted against the sun, and he looked at his hand in wonder as it didn't burn. His eyes slowly adjusted, and he searched the sky for the bright ball of fire, unable to find it. The world was so bright that shadows seemed to cease to exist. And then it tilted.
He saw himself, the gypsy cursing him with his soul. He saw his victims, the torture he relished in. All showed to him in the bright light of day, making it all the harsher. More gory. Brutal. He flinched away from what he had once been. Familiar signatures called his attention, but he could not find them.
And then he saw her. She was a beacon even in the sunlight. Slowly the light faded into the night that he was so used to until all that was left of the light was that which almost seemed to be emanating from within her.
Angel awoke with a frown before shaking off the dream and rolling out of bed.
Venice
September 1997
"Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, death is but a dream," he sang drunkenly as he maneuvered the gondola through the Venetian channels. He grinned predatorily at the whores that lined the seedier side of the city on water. Some, the smarter ones, backed off into the shadows hoping to avoid his attention. The brainless ones smiled beguilingly and beckoned him closer. Ever the gentleman, he wasn't one to deny them.
Hours later, after much shagging and feasting, the quickly cooling corpses of the witless twits that had offered themselves to him on a platter were strewn around him, under him...above him. Blood congealed on the floor, the walls, the furniture. It had been a while since he'd had such a satisfying night. With a contented sigh, he drifted off into a fitful slumber.
He recognized his surroundings and would remember this night until the moment he dusted. China 1900, Boxer Rebellion. His first real fight. He crouched down beside the body of the former champion and really took her in. Something he hadn't done in the original moment. Too caught up in the victory and the arousal that followed. Before him, the Slayer herself appeared, glancing at her corpse before looking straight at him and saying...something.
"I need bloody subtitles for this dream," he muttered to himself as he watched Xin Rong prattle on about something he could only guess from her actions was dark and foreboding...sounded like his cup o' tea, really. She stopped speaking, and he shrugged at her with a smirk. "Still don't speak Chinese, luv."
Then he was in a subway car. 1977, New York blackout. Nikki Wood. His third Slayer. He looked at her body, lying where he had left it, stripped of its coat, neck broken and at a slightly odd angle. "We all get ours eventually, ya dig?" She appeared before him the same way Xin Rong had.
"What, death?" He raised his scarred brow. "Got mine a long time ago, pet."
She just smiled a twisted little smile as she looked him up and down, eyes lingering on his coat. He followed her gaze and smirked, gesturing to the duster. "Ya dig?" he mocked.
She didn't rise to the bait. "The sunshine will swallow you whole," she told him forebodingly. Before he could reply, she was gone, and he stood on a vaguely familiar cobblestone.
A figure he hadn't thought about in a long time appeared before him, and he glanced further down to see the corpse of the Scottish chit he'd drained lifetimes ago. His first Slayer. "Ithidh a 'ghrian thu slàn, Bhampair," her ghost tells him with an eerie smile as the ground began to rumble.
"The sun will eat you whole," he translated. "Right, so..." She disappeared and he was left alone on the old Scottish street as the faintest trace of sunlight began to color the sky.
Spike woke with a start and immediately reached for one of his discarded whiskey bottles. "Strange bloody dream."
Sunnydale
September 1997
Buffy walked into the library and was greeted with smiles all around. "Hello, Buffy," Giles said kindly.
"Heya Buffster, good patrol last night?" Xander asked, around a mouthful of jelly donuts.
"Yeah, any big bads we need to worry about?" Willow said, only half joking.
"Should be one anytime now. After all, it's been a whole two weeks since the last one!" Cordelia added sarcastically.
Buffy rolled her eyes and grinned. "Hey everyone, the patrol was dead...er, for once. I did have this really bizarre dream, though."
"Ohh! Did it involve a sombrero-wearing camel and pixie sticks?" Willow asked curiously. Everyone paused to look at her in amusement. She blushed in embarrassment. "Just me, then?"
Before anyone could answer, Giles spoke up. "Was it a Slayer dream?"
Buffy looked at him in contemplation for a second. "I'd say a definite yes."
"What did I just say?" Cordelia rolled her eyes and inspected her nails.
"What was it about?" Xander asked, going into his rare serious mode.
"I was in the strobe light from hell, and there were all these demonic shadows. Finally, I could see some of them as they came out of the light, and they were like nothing I'd ever seen before. Then it went dark, and I walked for a long time before I ended up in some dingy old-timey bar where Angel was. He led me outside, where I was suddenly on these railroad tracks, and Angel was standing there looking all modern again with three shadows beside him." Buffy paused, not wanting to say the next part but knowing by now that all details were important. "The four of them pointed me down the tracks, and I started walking until I saw piles of bodies in the fields surrounding the tracks. The bodies were ours." She shuddered and avoided their shocked gazes.
"All of ours?" Giles asked.
Buffy nodded and took a seat beside Xander. "Yes. You, Will, Xan, and Cordelia. Mom. And me."
"Can I just say 'gulp'?" Xander asked nervously.
Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them with a frown. "I see."
"I knew hanging with you guys was gonna get me killed." Cordelia said angrily, pointing her glare at Buffy.
"Yeah, well, without us, you would have been dead a long time ago, your majesty." Xander sneered defensively.
Cordelia opened her mouth to reply, but Giles interrupted her. "The shadows standing around Angel, do you have any idea who they were?"
"No, I couldn't get a good look at them."
"What about the demons that came out of the light?" He walked over to his bookshelf and grabbed one of the books.
"Uh, there were some that looked like football heads. But not the pointy ones we used to play with in the gym." She tilted her head and grinned. "Older, more like from when you were a kid, Giles."
Giles glared at her. "I can assure you that the American 'football' was 'pointy' even in my youth," he told her stiffly, but she caught the sparkle of humor in his eyes.
Her grin fell a bit as she continued. "The only other type of demon I could make out were these giant angry horny-looking ones." She waved her hand high above her head as if measuring their height.
Silence descended upon them. Cordelia raised an eyebrow, and Xander blinked. "When you say horny…?" he asked with a 'please elaborate' hand motion.
Buffy's eyes widened, and she laughed awkwardly. "With horns!" Her arms flailed about again as she widened them as far as she could to illustrate her meaning. "They had giant horns. Like taller-than-a-tall-man horns!"
Xander rocked back onto his chair and exhaled in relief. "Thank you, dear sweet baby Jesus."
"Yes, quite," Giles muttered in rare agreement, again polishing his glasses.
Buffy grinned sheepishly, feeling a light blush creeping up her neck. She shared a look with Willow, who was biting her lip in amusement, her cheeks also a faint red.
"I'll consult my books and see if I can find these 'football head' and horned demons. Perhaps you could ask Angel if he's noticed anything odd lately," Giles suggested, getting them back on track.
"This is Sunnydale. If he hasn't noticed anything odd, then…." she trailed off as she slanted the watcher with a pointed look.
"Yes, well...odd-er," he corrected with a huff. Buffy smirked at him and nodded her agreement.
Willow smiled at her. "I'll help with the book stuff. We should be able to dig something up. Don't worry, Buffy."
Cordelia stood, her chair pushing out dramatically. "I'm gonna go and leave the fighting to you losers."
"And on that helpful note...I volunteer to be snack man," Xander offered, rubbing his hands together with a goofy grin.
~BTVS~
"Angel?" Buffy called out as she walked into the mansion Angel had recently claimed as his own.
"Buffy." She heard him say quietly from behind her. She quickly turned around and couldn't help but smile. "What brings you here?"
"Have you noticed the rise in demon badness lately?" she asked him, drinking in the sight of him. He'd been especially elusive lately.
He frowned, eyes curious as he shook his head. "I haven't been out much, but I have noticed a bit more activity, nothing too unusual, though."
"So no sign of any football head demons or- or uh, huge guys with really big horns?" she asked, scrunching her nose up as she searched for the right descriptive words and waving her hands around in a way that Angel found absolutely adorable.
Angel's lips turned up in a fleeting smile before he schooled his features back into his usual impassive gaze and shook his head. "No, definitely nothing like that."
Buffy sighed and pursed her lips in a pout. "I had a Slayer dream last night."
Angel's face grew even more serious than usual, and he nodded for her to come over to the couch and sit with him. "What was it about?"
She explained the lights and demon army, the bodies of her and her friends, and then the reason that she came to talk to him. "You were there too. And there were these three shadows beside you. I couldn't see what they looked like, though."
Angel frowned in contemplation. Could his dream have been connected to hers? The only similar element, really, was the light. Which could have been nothing more than a coincidence. Speaking of coincidence. "Three shadows?"
"Yes. You were all standing on railroad tracks after I followed you out of an old-timey bar. You all pointed out to a field, and that's where our bodies were. Any ideas on who they were?"
"I'm not sure, Buffy. Back when I was Angelus, four of us traveled together, but...well, Darla is dust, and I haven't seen Dru or Spike in decades."
Buffy bit her lip and sighed. "If the powers were gonna send me omen dreams, you'd think they'd at least be helpful."
Angel reached over and lightly patted her hand. It was the most contact they'd had in at least a week. "You'll figure it out. You always do."
She smiled weakly in return and decided to forego pointing out that the last time had killed her. She sighed again and stood back up. "I should probably go patrol, search out leads in the field before Giles makes me search them out in the big scary books." She grimaced at the thought. "You wanna come with me?" she asked hopefully.
Angel smiled at her. "Sure." His grin widened slightly at the way her eyes lit up.
~BTVS~
She watched with a scowl as Angelus left the mansion with the bitch that he had killed her for before she let herself into the building and helped herself to a shower as she waited for him to return.