WARNING:  This chapter is rated NC-17 for sexually explicit language and situations in the last few paragraphs of this chapter.  Do not read if you are easily offended or under the age of 17.  I have written an alternative ending with an ‘R’ rating, which can be linked to HERE.

Chapter Eight 

Oh God, she just said his name in that sexy, husky voice of hers.  It was half question, half statement and hearing it brought back in vivid detail the memory of another time she’d spoken to him that way.  She’d been chained to a wall in his crypt at the time.  It was a lifetime ago, now, and most of that memory was full of pain and rejection, but he remembered pouring his heart out to her before she shot him down so decisively.  “I’m drownin’ in you, Summers,” he’d said, “I’m drownin’ in you.”

What an idiot he’d been.  He’d had no idea what drowning was until she touched his jaw with her purity and warmth.

There was such compassion in her gaze, such innocence and light.  Guileless and unfettered by her earthly burdens, he watched in awe as the corners of her mouth lifted slightly into a smile that Mona Lisa would envy.

Spike forgot everything but her with that smile.  It stripped him down to the barest of essentials and remade him.  It filled him, completing him ways he didn’t understand and would never be able to explain.  Knowing only coldness for over a century, it lit the match inside him, warmed him from the inside, from a place that vampires could never know warmth.  Rocked to his core, he shuddered and pressed his cheek into her palm, blindly seeking more of her heat.

His eyes drifted closed as she let him.

I’m sorry, Buffy.  I’m so sorry, luv.  For everythin’ before and everythin’ to come.  Please, I hope one day you can forgive me.  “I’m sorry.”

Spike hadn’t known his thoughts had turned into words until he heard his voice muffled by her palm.

Buffy heard his apology and misunderstood the reason behind it.  “Shhh,” she said, “there’s nothing to apologize for, Spike.  You did nothing wrong.”

She meant it.  He could see that she meant it when he looked into her eyes again.  There was no forgiveness in them only because she truly believed he had done nothing that needed forgiving.

And it was his job to rip that belief away from her.  That’s why he was here.

As his purpose flooded back to him with all its harsh, ugly reality, Spike was consumed by a rage that made even the demon in him tremble at its power.  Not wanting to contaminate her with his fury, he took several steps back.  The childlike questioning gaze she graced him with was almost his undoing.

He wanted to kill…no, he wanted to maim and punish those that would ask for so much from her.  Thirsty for vengeance, he ached to go back to the Oracles and beat them into taking it back, making it not be true.  He wanted to stand tall in front of the Powers themselves, take them on with fist and fang, and demand that another way than this be found to save the world.  They were the Powers, after all, the name should mean something.

There was nothing he wouldn’t do, no sacrifice he wouldn’t make just to remove this destiny from its intended target.

No.  That’s not true.  He’d been given another option, an easier way to go, and he’d declined.  The only thing worse than forcing Buffy to return to a life that had shown her only heartache and loss was to allow Dawn to die in her place.  Some choice.

As loathe as Spike was to admit it, he’d made the right one.  Buffy was the Chosen One, the Slayer.  She was born for this kind of battle.  She was a warrior.  Dawn was one of the many innocents the Slayer was called to protect.  She’d been made that way.  Blood of her blood and soul of her soul, Buffy had made her opinion of the matter known all too clearly with her fatal plunge into the portal.  And if Buffy had made that choice once, Spike would fight to the death to make sure that choice was valid.  He could never sacrifice Dawn.

He would sacrifice himself, instead.

Buffy had waited patiently on the stairs while he worked through his turbulent thoughts and emotions.  When he realized that she had just stood there, calmly watching the myriad of expressions that must have danced across his face, he smiled wryly at her.  The Buffy he knew and loved had never patiently waited for anything.  Hell on wheels, that one.  It was an...interesting change.

Resigned to his fate, to his duty, Spike’s rage dissipated.  Okay, mate, you made it this far.  Got the girl right in front of you.  Now, what you gonna do about it?  How do you get her to want to go back? 

Problem was, Spike had absolutely no idea. 

He took a deep breath for courage and looked at her.  “We need to talk.”

She smiled again and nodded before an almost melancholy expression pooled in her eyes.  “Yes, we do.  There are things...things that need to be said.”

Talk about your bloody understatements.

Buffy moved the rest of the way down the stairs and turned to head down the hallway leading to the kitchen.  Spike, a little confused, followed behind her.

“Mom,” he heard her say before he made it to the kitchen, “I need to talk to Spike.  We’ll be out on the back porch.”

The vampire entered in time to see the mother-daughter hug and the gentle way Joyce ran her hand down Buffy’s hair, smiling in love at her daughter.  Something about the long look Joyce gave her, and the comments she’d made to him when he got there, was telling him that she knew what he was here to do.  When she turned and measured him with a kind, steady gaze he saw he’d guessed right.  Joyce knew, Buffy...Buffy didn’t.

“Can I get the two of you anything?” her mom asked them.

“I’m fine mom, Spike?”

As soon as Joyce asked, Spike was nearly bowled over with a craving for her nearly fame worthy hot chocolate.  His mouth watered at the thought. 

She must have seen his hungered expression because she smiled widely and guessed what he was thinking.  “One hot chocolate, coming up.  And, Spike, I think I know where I have some marshmallows stashed to keep that one,” she gestured to her daughter, teasing, “from gobbling them all in one sitting.”

“Mom!”  A lighthearted and happy Buffy joined in the gentle tease fest by crossing her arms in mock irritation and superiority.  “I never gobble,” she said with her nose in the air, “I daintily nibble.”

Spike, both amused and drawn in by the palpable warmth and emotion that the women shared, snorted out a chuckle.

“Right,” Joyce nodded with a glint in her eye, “you daintily nibble like a lumberjack, dear.  Now go, I’ll make that hot chocolate for you, Spike, and leave it on the counter in here for you so I don’t interrupt.  Then I’m going to catch up on some reading, so you two take as long as you need.”

There was more than one meaning in her words, Spike knew, just as he knew she was all right with him being here, doing what he needed to do.  He felt it.

“Thank you, Joyce.  It’s much appreciated.”  He sent the double meaning back to her and smiled when she nodded once, slowly, in understanding.

Buffy sat down on the steps leading to the backyard and Spike lowered himself slowly beside her.  He was still in a tremendous amount of physical pain thanks to the little nasties in charge of this realm, but it was the furthest thing from his mind.

Neither one of them said a word.  Spike didn’t know where to begin and when he glanced at Buffy, she was just serenely taking in the dark sky above her.  There wasn’t a care or concern anywhere on her face.  Bugger all.  What now?

The scene felt familiar to him; her sitting on his right, close enough to touch but not.  They’d danced to this song once before.

“Well, this is just...neat,” he finally said, breaking the silence with a self-mocking drawl, “this remind you of anything, pet?  Of course, I don’t have my manly shotgun with me this go ‘round, but hey - can’t have everythin’.”

Buffy’s eyes found his and she frowned slightly, as if trying to remember the time he was referring to.  He saw the memory hit her and watched those eyes widen in surprise.  Then she surprised the hell out of him and giggled.  She tried to cover her mouth, tried to push back the sound, but he’d heard it.  She giggled.  Then she laughed a tinkling, happy laugh.

“Oh God,” she said, smiling widely at him, “I’d almost forgotten that night.  You were so mad at me.”  The smile faded a little as she remembered why he’d been so mad.  “You had every right to be, you know.  I wasn’t very nice to you that night.  Or any night, really.”

She sighed and stared toward the back of the yard.  Spike was stunned by her admission and waited, breathless and unmoving, to see if she would continue.

“Spike, I need to tell you I’m sorry.  For everything.  I didn’t understand, and then, by the time I finally started to, things had spun completely out of control and I had a hard time just trying to remember to breathe.”

Spike was familiar with the feeling, he was going through something amazingly similar right now.  All thoughts of his duty went out the proverbial window as he listened to her talk.  He didn’t think Buffy spent time dissecting her emotions with anyone, let alone him.  But this Buffy wasn’t his Buffy, some elemental part of Spike realized it, it was a part of her, her soul maybe, but not the whole.  And the soul, when separated from the other, was untouched by fear of expression.  He knew this was straight from her heart.  And, damn it, he wanted to hear what she had to say. 

Settling back against a post, he studied her profile and watched her mouth move.  The feelings under his skin were screaming violently at him but he didn’t care.  Sod off, he thought at the watching eyes, I’m lettin’ her speak.  If you want to stop it, you’re just gonna have to strike me down with one of those nice little bolts of lightnin’ you’ve got stored up.  It may not be prudent to tempt fate with such glaring hostility, but he was beyond prudent.

“The night that Glory’s minions took you,” Buffy continued, “I was off in the desert with Giles.  You knew that.  I never told anyone what happened there, not everything, but I want to tell you.  It may help you understand the decision I made.  I went out there because even before I lost mom, I’d been feeling dead inside.  Withdrawn.  I was so disconnected from everyone.  I had been ever since...” 

Buffy voice trailed off and she stopped, a deep, thoughtful expression on her face.  Spike didn’t need to be psychic to know what she was thinking about.  He could see it.  He tilted his head and watched as she worked things out in her mind.

“Ever since Angel left.”  Buffy turned her face to Spike and smiled gently.  It didn’t hurt any longer to talk about it or to think about him.  That was one of the blessings of this place.  Spike could see her joy at the realization that she was finally free from the pain of losing her first love.  It was a bitter pill for him to swallow.  But then any thoughts about Buffy and Angel and their love were bitter for Spike.

“After he left, things went wacko in Buffy World.  The Initiative with their nefarious demon experiments, you came back - chipped, sure, but mortal enemy number one just the same - and then Adam.  Things were bad.  But I was the Slayer, right, I was used to bad.  I beat Adam, but the spell the gang cast to help me take him out had a nifty side affect.  It brought a primal force back.  I bet you never knew that.  When I connected with it, with her, it changed me even more.  Dracula saw it, he could sense it.”

Spike rolled his eyes at the mention of Drac.  Everyone gives that blighter so much deference just because he’s all famous and everythin’.  It’s enough to make a vampire sick.  Bloody poof.

“It was darkness.  And it drew me in, made me dark.  I started hunting every night, keeping things from Riley, from my family, from my friends.  Then there was Dawn, and I found out she was The Key and had been sent to me for protection from Glory.  The only person I told was Giles, so more secrets from the daughter, best friend, and girlfriend.  More darkness and hiding.  It felt like I was slipping deeper and deeper into something I had no control over.  And you know me, I was control girl.”

She was trying to make light of her life’s pain and Spike let her, if that was what she needed to do it was fine with him.  However this realm had changed her, released her from her burden, Spike was not about to interfere with it.  He only hoped that when she went back, she could take that freedom with her, that she could start again refreshed and changed for the good.

“Mom got sick, Riley left, mom died.  It was so painful, but at the same time it wasn’t painful enough, you know?  I was able to continue on as if my life hadn’t just been ripped out from under me.  That’s when I knew - or thought I did - that I was losing touch with my human side.  My Buffy side was disappearing, all that was left was the Slayer.  The killer.”

That shocked Spike into interrupting.  He’d had no idea that she had felt that way.  “Hey now, what’s that all about?  You didn’t actually believe that rot did you?”

She didn’t smile but the peace on her face didn’t falter.  “I believed it at the time.  And if I remember correctly, even you were telling me that death was the art I made with my hands.  Not a huge help in the ‘calm Buffy’s fear’ department.”

Spike wanted to stake himself.  Son of a bitch!  No wonder she’d looked so weirded out when he was goading her that night.  He’s lucky all he got was the emotionally wounding, “You’re beneath me,” instead of the touch more fatally wounding pool cue in the chest. 

“I’m sorry, luv.  I didn’t want-”

She surprised him by reaching up and pressing her fingers to his lips.  Once again he basked in her warmth.

“No, Spike, it’s okay.  I’m not trying to place blame here.  I’m just explaining how things were.”

She dropped her hand and returned her gaze to the back of the yard.  “When I went out there, to the dessert, I was this close to giving up the Slayer gig.  I didn’t want to do it any more.  I was afraid I was losing my humanity.  Then I was told that death was my gift.  The guide told me other stuff, but all I heard was death was my gift.  It confirmed all of my worst fears.  The Slayer is just a killer after all.”

Spike shook his head, “No.  I don’t believe that.  And even if it’s true, Buffy, you weren’t just the Slayer.  You never were.”

Talking about her in the past tense was wigging him out, but he hadn’t quite reconciled the pre-plunge Buffy with the heavenly creature next to him.

Buffy was moved by his quick defense of her.  He’d been doing that a lot for quite some time now.  “You have no idea how much you just sounded like Giles.”

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. “Huh.  The stuffed shirt has more sense than I thought.  Who’d a known?”

She pursed her lips in feigned reproach but it was wiped away quickly with the grin she tried to hide.  “I’m going to tell you something.  I can’t believe I’m going to actually say it, but somehow it doesn’t scare me anymore.”

Spike could practically feel his ears perk up.  Confess away, pet.

“When you told me that you...well, you know...that you, um, had feelings for me?  I thought that the reason you had those feelings - after I stopped denying to myself that you had them, anyway - was because you could sense my darkness, the change in me.  That’s what I thought you…big, evil you, were drawn to.  You hadn’t been much with the warm fuzzies before, back before I started falling so deep into the pit I was in, so I thought you could see the something in me that I was terrified of.  That’s one of the reasons I fought so hard against it, against you.  I didn’t want it to be true.  I didn’t want to be a blonde, though much better looking, Drusilla.  And because I knew vampires couldn’t love without a soul, and I was afraid I was losing mine, well...that’s why you could suddenly want me.”

To say that what Buffy just told him was a surprise would have been just about as gross an understatement as saying heaven was an uncomfortable place for a vampire to visit.  He was...well, there just weren’t the words to explain how he was feeling.  It was a combination of anger, at himself and her, regret that he’d let her push him away like a chastened puppy instead of explaining himself better, pain that she had thought so little of herself and of him, and frustration at how different things might have been through it all if he’d just handled everything better, all mixed together and multiplied several times over.

In contrast to the strength of those feelings, his words were but a whisper of sound.  “Bloody hell.”

Spike got up and paced back and forth across the porch, his long strides making it difficult to get more than four steps in before he whirled around and headed the other way.  He was so agitated, his game face kept emerging and melting away.  Not that he noticed.  When he had calmed down enough to speak without scaring the shit out of her, he jumped down from the porch in one leap and knelt at her feet, gazing up at her with his clear, blue eyes.

“Okay,” he said, struggling to keep his voice calm, “first of all, you need to knock off with the prattle about vampires not lovin’ without a soul.  There are plenty of soulless creatures - and not all evil, mind you – walkin’ the planet, quite capable of love and all the other, more merry emotions.  Just as there are plenty of soddin’ humans prancin’ about with their tortured little souls, completely incapable of lovin’ anyone - even themselves.  Next item; I didn’t tell you I had ‘feelings’ for you - what kind of nancy-boy poofta would say that?  No.  I told you I loved you.  And I bloody well meant it.  And news flash, blondie, I’ve loved you since the first time we went toe to toe.  Hell, even Drusilla saw it, you heard her yourself.  Saw it before I ever did, that one.  That’s why she left me...BOTH SODDIN’ TIMES!  So, if you think it was just that ‘darkness’ I was keyin’ in on, you are about as wrong as anything Xander considers a good fashion idea, cuz it just ain’t so. 

“It was always the light, Buffy.  Always your light, your fire, the passion you took to everythin’, and your strength that I fancied.  If I’d wanted darkness I would have stayed with my ex-loon.  Or gone back with her when she showed up in good ole Sunnyhell to make all our lives a little more interestin’.  But no, I didn’t.  It’s you, luv, its always been you.”

If he had hoped that his declaration would create a wave in her eerily placid and peaceful condition, he was destined for disappointment.  She listened calmly to everything he said, smiling now and again - especially at the Xander clothes comment - and waited for him to finish before looking him straight in the eye and saying, “I know.”

He exploded. “Y-you KNOW?!”

She nodded her head, flinching just a touch at his roar.  “Shh.  Keep it down, will ya?  Not everyone here likes loud, yelly vampires.”

“Keep it...?  Loud, yelly...?” It was too much for Spike, he had just had the biggest of all the biggies dropped square in his lap and he just didn’t know what to think about it.  In a hoarse whisper he growled, “What in the bloody hell do you mean, you bleedin’ know?”

One of her shoulders lifted in an easy shrug.  “I’ve known since the day I went to your crypt after Glory tortured you.  When I found out that Glory had you, I was coming to kill you - not rescue you.  I just knew you would give Dawn up.  I was wrong.  When you told me that you knew losing Dawn would destroy me, and you’d rather die then see that happen, that’s when I knew.”

Spike didn’t know how to take her knowing.  He knew she’d been grateful, the kiss she’d given him told him that, but he’d had no idea that she’d resigned her disbelief that he was capable of love.  He wished he’d had more time - it wasn’t long after that morning that things turned to shit.  If he’d had more time, if she’d had more time to accept what she found out, then maybe...

But you can’t live on maybes, mate.  You have to play the hand you’ve been dealt.  No matter how miserable it is.

“Spike, listen.  When I was standing on that platform, seeing the dimensional walls falling while the sun rose, holding Dawn back from leaping to her death, I remembered the rest of what the guide told me in the desert and everything finally made sense.  I had been so frantic with fear, convinced I was just a killer, ripped apart at the choice I was left with.  How could I kill my sister?  She was a part of me.  The only part that I loved anymore.”

So that’s what she had started to say back in the magic shop.  He’d wondered.  She’d cut herself off before she finished.  Now that he knew everything that she had been struggling through emotionally and mentally, he wasn’t surprised.

“The guide told me I was full of love.  That it was brighter than the fire, but I pulled away from it when it blinded me.  She told me that the only way I could ever lose love was if I rejected it.  ‘Love.  Give.  Forgive.’  That’s what she told me.  Love would lead me to my gift.  When I remembered that I knew I didn’t have to sacrifice Dawn.  I loved her so much I could die for her.  I loved all of you so much.  And now, all the pain and fear and pressure is gone.  I made the right choice.  I don’t want you to be sorry that it happened, Spike.  There is nothing to forgive.”

Respect for her and her courage had just risen to a whole new level.  As had the difficulty to tell her what he needed to tell her.  But he’d just been given the perfect opportunity to jump in with what he’d really meant when he’d said he was sorry earlier, why he was here.  So why wasn’t he speaking? 

Spike started to, several times, but he was still kind of stuck at the, “I loved all of you so much,” part.  That time it had left no doubt that he was included on the precious list of Buffy’s favorite people.  He wasn’t stupid, he knew she wasn’t making a declaration of passionate love, but he’d just been upgraded from monster to friend.  That takes a while for a vampire to get used to.  He’d never dared dream he’d get that far.  And now, to have to ask her to go back to her life, a life that had made her believe she was nothing but a killer?  It wasn’t fair. 

So little is.

This was his choice.  If she didn’t go, the world would fall into a hellish vortex of pain and misery.  Her gift was her death?  Ironically, his was her life.  Idn’t that a bleedin’ riot.

The time had come to seal his fate.  “Umm.  Buffy.  I have somethin’ to tell you and I’m havin’ a hard time doin’ it, so you may have to bear with me a bit.”

She gazed at him expectantly, completely unaware of how drastically her existence was set to change.  When he saw that look, it struck him that she’d never questioned why he was here.  There were more changes in her than he’d first realized. 

Finally, it dawned on him what it was that was missing.  This was Buffy, but all parts of the Slayer had been separated and left behind.  There was no warrior left in her.  For the first time, Spike felt fear that he would be able to get her to go back.  How can you beseech the Chosen One to return to the fight if there was no Chosen One to beseech?

“When I said I was sorry earlier,” he said slowly, “I wasn’t just apologizin’ for what happened the night you...died.”  Okay, mate, try to keep it together.  “I’m here for a reason, pet.  I was sent here for a reason.”

He paused, partly to work up the courage to finish and partly to see if she would be curious enough to question him on his reasons.  She wasn’t, she just waited calmly and serenely.  Spike was really starting to dislike that about her.

“I was sent here to get you to go back.”

Nothing.  No change in her expression, it was almost like she didn’t even hear what he said.  That can’t be a good thing.

“There’s some big evil brewin’ down the road, luv, and I was told you were the only one who could stop it.  That’s why they sent me.” 

Still nothing, just that same serenity and grace that he’d seen in her all along.  No frowning concern, hell, even fear would be some kind of reaction, she didn’t even look mildly worried.  Spike was past dislike and quickly approaching irritation.

“Are you listenin’ to me, girl?  I said you have to go back and live.  Your time isn’t finished yet.  There’s more for you to do.”

Finally, she spoke, “No, there’s not.”

Sighing at his incredulous expression, wanting to make him understand, she pulled him up from his spot at her feet and had him sit next to her.  She took one of his hands in hers. 

“I’m through, Spike.  I made my sacrifice.  This is my world now.  My mom’s here, and I’m happy for the first time in longer than I can remember.  The dance is finally finished for me.  If what you’re saying is true, the Powers will find some other way to solve it.  That’s what they do.  Not to mention the Watcher’s council.  I know that there wasn’t another Slayer called because I’d already died once before, if only for a short time, but I know the council.  If things start to go bad back there, they’ll either get Faith out of prison, or if she’s still too emotionally damaged, they’ll do something else to get her ready to fight.  They are surprisingly resourceful.  Either way, it’s not my problem anymore.”

Even knowing her rejection was a possibility, Spike was still dumbfounded by it.  “Not your problem?  It bloody well is your problem.  Buffy, the things I was shown, the things comin’, they’re right awful stuff.  This isn’t vampire bad, either, this isn’t even apocalypse bad, this is Armageddon bad.  Total destruction of every bit of light left in the world.  Hell’s demons released to consume each and every livin’ thing in it.  And I’m telling you, you are the only one that can prevent it.  They told me you weren’t just the Chosen One, Buffy, you were THE Chosen One.”

“Keyword there, Spike, is ‘were’.  I’m not the Slayer anymore.  I’m sorry.”  She did look a little sorry to disappoint him, but it was the equivalent of a ‘sorry I broke your china plate’ kind of sorry, instead of a ‘sorry I’m not helping you prevent the world from plunging into an eternity of torment and despair’ kind of sorry.  Her sorry wasn’t nearly good enough.

“Don’t look at me that way, Buffy, you need to do this.  Think of your sister, your friends.  They’ll die.”

“Everyone dies, Spike, even you.  No one’s immortal.  Long-lived, maybe, but not immortal.  And when they die they come here.  How is that a bad thing?”

Suddenly there was nothing but cold fury at her cavalier attitude.  This was not his Buffy at all.  This soul in front of him was nothing like the woman he loved, and in that instant he hated her as much as he had loved the other.  He spun around, completely disillusioned and horrified at her reactions, and headed back into the house.

He pulled off his duster and tossed it over a chair by the table, then grabbed the now only mildly tepid hot chocolate that Joyce made for him.  In his mind, he cursed the day he’d ever met the girl whose soul could turn its back on the world.

Spike didn’t know what to do.  His mind raced even as he drank the hot chocolate, trying to figure out what his next move should be.  Halfway through the cup it hit him.  How do you get the Chosen One to return to the fight if there’s no Chosen One left?  You bring the Chosen One back.

He grinned coldly into the empty kitchen, suddenly realizing how it needed to be done and cursing the Oracles once again.  He’d bet money they were all too aware of what was necessary.  That’s why they didn’t just send him back after he refused their first offer and pick someone who wouldn’t be threatened by this realm, someone with a soul - like Giles, or even Xander.  Because nothing got the Vampire Slayer’s attention faster than a vampire intent on evil.

Something inside Spike broke and shattered like fine-blown glass.  Less than five minutes after he finds out he’d been accepted as a friend, he now has to remind her what a monster he really is.  And it wasn’t going to be pretty. 

He set the mug down on the table with cold finality and headed back out the door, letting the demon - who’d been pushing at him hard ever since he’d stepped through the door to this realm - have free reign of his features and attitude.

The Big Bad had come home.

Spike startled her.  She’d heard the door open behind her, but had expected him to walk over and sit down next to her again.  She liked talking to him.  He had been a good friend.  Instead of walking over to her, though, he walked to the railing and leapt over it, landing with his back to her.  It made her jump a little.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, pet?”

“Is something wrong?  What are you doing?”

He turned his head so she could see his game face in profile.  “I’m just checkin’ out the scenery, luv.  Gotta say, heaven leaves a bit to be desired.  I mean, come on.  This is what all you poor sods have to look forward to?  An eternity of this?  Ask me, I’d rather be roastin’ in Hell’s playground.  Be more interestin’ anyway.”

Buffy didn’t like the sound in his voice, it was so sarcastic and cynical.  It had been a long time since she’d heard him sound like that.  “Spike, stop it.  Come, sit down.  What’s wrong with you?”

Spike turned and stared at her, his gold eyes glowing eerily in the dim light coming from the kitchen window.  One lip curled into a sneer.  “Now that’s a good question.  I was just in the kitchen wonderin’ that myself.  Vampire, come to heaven to get the Slayer to save the world.  Don’t know what the bloody hell I was thinkin’, but I can assure you, Sweet Cheeks, I’m well over it.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t give two pips for what happens to the world.  I say let it slip into hell.  Hope the nice, evil demons kick off their reign of terror by slurpin’ down those wanker friends of yours first.  Hope it hurts like a bitch, too.  Sad lot, them.  They deserve it.”

Spike could feel the realm reacting to the change in his tactics.  It felt like the atmosphere was thickening noticeably.  He couldn’t see it in the sky, even though it did appear to be growing lighter, but he would bet those sick looking yellow storm clouds were back, rolling toward him with righteous fury.  He just hoped he had a chance to finish before they got here.  And he hoped he could keep up this charade, it was tearing him apart.

“Please don’t say that, Spike.  I know they aren’t your favorite people but that’s just mean.”

“Mean?  That the best you can do?  Christ, I’ve eaten five year olds with a broader vocabulary than that.  Are you sure you’re not a natural blonde?”

Buffy frowned, not liking the reminder of what Spike did before he got the chip in his head.  “Stop it.”

“Well that’s just...pathetic, pet.  I do believe you may be slippin’.  And you know what?  I just had an interestin’ thought.  What with you not bein’ human anymore, I’m wonderin’ if that soddin’ chip in my head will care if I knock you off that high horse you’ve been ridin’ around all this time.  Whaddya think?  Wanna give it a go?”

Spike stalked over to her with predatory intent, trying to ignore the fiery agony his body was in, trying to forget how much he loved the woman whose soul was staring at him with large, haunting eyes.  Eyes that showed fear.

“Please, Spike, don’t.”  Buffy’s bottom lip trembled slightly.  She couldn’t believe this was happening.  The Spike she had grown to care about over the past several weeks was gone and the evil creature he’d been was standing in front of her.  And he hated her.

Spike couldn’t look at her eyes, there was such disillusionment in them.  He took a deep breath and prepared himself.  He knew this was going to hurt him a hell of a lot more than it hurt her. 

“Oh, I think it should be ‘Please Spike, do.’“

His left arm snaked out with lightning speed and he popped her in the face with a quick jab.  She fell back hard into the deck and her head cracked loudly on the wood.  As soon as he hit her, his head exploded in pain with the electrical revenge the chip took on his head.  He had been afraid of that.  She may not be alive, but the chip still viewed her as human.  He fought to stay on his feet.

Fortunately, Buffy had been so distracted by his punch that she hadn’t seen him bend over in pain and clutch his head.  At far as she knew, it hadn’t hurt him at all.  It was important she continue to believe it so he forced air into his dead lungs to try to speed the recovery time from the major zapping he just took.

By the time she picked herself up and looked at him with tears falling down her face, he’d recovered enough to speak - he hoped.

“Hey now!  That was a right good time.  Gave me a rush of lovely little tingly feelin’s, it did.  How ‘bout you, luv?”  Spike forced himself to sneer maliciously at her - dying inside at her tears.  “No, huh?  Sorry ‘bout that.  I do so love to have my partners enjoy themselves as much as I do.  I bet I can do better.  Maybe we should have another go.”

Buffy didn’t know what to think.  This creature in front of her was everything she’d ever feared in Spike.  He was a monster.  “No.  Please, Spike.  No.  Don’t do this.  Just go.”

Damn it, woman!  Fight back!  Come on, Buffy, give it me good.  Don’t make me keep doin’ this to you.  Spike realized she wouldn’t raise a hand to defend herself.  He had to up the stakes.

“All right, Buffy, or should I start callin’ you Fluffy?  Hmmm, I like that.  Anyway, I’ll go.  I think I’ll head back to good ole Sunnyhell, the real one - not this pitiful mock up.  I wonder how lil’ sis is dealin’ with your abrupt departure.”   

Spike forced back the demon visage and gave Buffy his most sincere expression, his wounded, hurting look.  That part was easy, he just had to let himself remember her broken body on the bricks at the construction site.  The hard part was still to come.   

“I bet I can comfort her real good.  I’d wager she’d take one look at the crushed vampire in love and be more than willin’ to offer some comfort of her own.  She’s always had a soft spot for me, ya know.” 

He shot her a look filled with heat and desire, a look of pure sexual longing.  His right hand came up to stroke his chest with slow, seductive purpose before working its way down his stomach to the waistband of his black jeans, pausing briefly, teasingly, and then dropping down to his crotch.  He rubbed himself almost lazily, never taking his eyes off of the girl, searching for any sign that she was coming back.  He had to be careful, thinking of Buffy while discussing Dawn in such a way or it wouldn’t work.  He forced naked Buffy thoughts into his head as he rubbed his crotch, ignoring the vile words and suggestions that were coming out of his mouth.  It was working, he hardened under his ministrations. 

Buffy saw his erection and dropped her eyes, repulsed, refusing to raise them again as his verbal assault continued.   

“I wonder how long I’ll need to play the poncy puppy before she spreads those dimpled knees for me.  I’d be her first.  Idn’t that neat.  I just can’t wait to wrap my hands around her perky little tits while her hot, tight little box wraps around her first cock.  I’ll ruin her for human boys, right enough.  What’s that old saying?  Once you’ve had fang, you know you’ve been banged?  Oh, right - you know that one, don’t you?”

“Bet she burns for me, baby.  Bet she weeps for me.  Don’t worry, sis, I’ll take real good care of her for you.  Protect her right and proper, just like I promised.  Nothin’ will touch her when I’m using her nubile little body, poundin’ into her over and over.  I’ll mark her, let all the Sunnydale badies know she’s mine - no one will touch her but me.  And I will touch her.  Everywhere.  I’ll bury my hands, my mouth, my tongue into that succulent little quim of hers for hours.”

“Tell me, pet.  When I’m finished teachin’ her everything to know about fucking a vampire do you think she’ll be amenable to suckin’ me off every once in a while?  I do love a good blowjob.  I’ll just bet those glorious lips of hers will look positively mind blowin’, no pun intended, wrapped around my hard cock.”

“Oh, and when I get bored with human pussy I’ll make sure I change her.  By the time hell comes a knockin’ at the Sunny D ranch, she’ll be so in love with me she’ll beg me to change her.  Plead with me.  She’ll open her own veins - I won’t even need to touch her.  I didn’t get to kill you, mores the pity, so I’ll have to settle for that as my one good day.”

Buffy had been barraged with the vile mental images to the point she felt sick.  He’ll do it.  There was no mistaking that.  He will go back and seduce and use Dawnie until he kills her.

Over her dead body.

Spike never knew what hit him.  One minute he was standing in front of what was left of the Slayer, her head down and shoulders slumped in defeat, feeling like the lowest scum in the world for what he was saying to her, the next he was flying though the air, sent there by a series of flying punches that ended in an uppercut with so much power in it that it plowed his body into a tree from fifteen feet away.  

He barely hit the ground before she was on him, gripping him by the throat with one hand and lifting him off his feet.  The realm was reacting violently to the show of aggression, as well as to his presence.  He saw lightning in the distance, and the difference in shading from the clouds now that the sky had lightened considerably.  Well, he did between her flying fists, anyway.

She was screaming at him, too, calling him names he hadn’t even known she knew.  So much for the vocabulary of a five year old.  It would have amused him if she wasn’t beating him to a bloody pulp.  But there was no way he was going to stop her.  He deserved it.  And he wanted to make sure, if she was back, if the Slayer was back, that she stayed back.

Buffy moved back a step and Spike thought it was over, until she spun into a spinning drop kick that sent him flying again.  He fell back to the ground and didn’t move.  Not once did he raise his hands to protect himself.

Buffy, a vibrating ball of fury, advanced on the pummeled Spike and grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him off the ground and bringing his face close to hers.  “I’m going to say this once, Spike, so listen closely.  If I ever hear you so much as say her name again, I’m going to rip your head off your body and shove it up your sick, evil, perverted ass before you get a chance to dust.  If I ever find out you were ever in the same building with her, I will hunt you down like the monster you are.  I will remove every single protruding part from your body and watch as you bleed for long days before I stake your ass for good and send you to the hell you so richly deserve.  You get me?”

Through a haze of pain inflicted by the realm and the girl hovering over him, he looked into her eyes, searching, questioning the result of the abominable thing he just did to her.  It was over, and he’d paid his dues to get it done.  Her eyes told the story and he smiled slightly despite the gaping emotional wound in his chest at what he saw there.

“Yeah, I get you, Slayer.  Took you long enough.  Bloody hell, you almost friggin’ killed me.  Welcome back.”

 ~ Continue to Chapter 9 ~

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