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* * * *
Chapter Two
Slumber
* * * *
After quietly entering the motel
room she shared with Dawn, Kennedy and Willow, Buffy slid into the
bathroom and bathed, unable to hold back silent tears as she did so. She
knew it was just dirt, and it’s not like she wanted to stay filthy
forever, but the symbolism of what she was doing was like an elephant
standing in the room. Not all of her tears came from sadness, however.
Buffy was washing away all ties to the burdens of being Chosen. The short
life, the constant need for looking over her shoulder. Yet she still had
her power, and that was something she was grateful for. It’s like your
mother telling you that you no longer have to do chores, but you could
still keep your allowance. Except much, much bigger.
Buffy pulled the stopper from the drain and stepped out of the tub. She
wrapped a towel around herself and watched with the fascination belonging
to the chronically exhausted as the water slowly swirled down the drain.
Stepping towards the mirror, she unwrapped her towel and gazed at the
wound on her belly. It still looked pretty nasty, but it was almost
healed. The wound on her back where the Turok-han’s blade had entered was
a bit further behind in the healing process, but contrary to The First’s
assumption, it wasn’t a mortal wound. Buffy looked up in the mirror and
smiled. This may just start getting easier.
Spike was standing behind her when she turned around. Buffy gasped in
shock as he moved forward and put his hand over her mouth.
He hadn’t cast a reflection and he was touching her. Definitely not a
ghost, then.
“Don’t scream,” he instructed in a low voice as he stared into her wide
eyes. He tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows, silently asking
for her compliance. When her brain started working again she nodded and he
slowly pulled his hand away.
“Spike?” she breathed. “Is it really… oh my god, you’re alive!”
“You sound disappointed.” His tone was cold.
Buffy shook her head, but her eyes didn’t leave his. “Oh my god,” she
whispered as she leaned against him. He didn’t wrap his arms around her in
return, but Buffy didn’t notice. She was a bit preoccupied with the fact
that he was standing there and with the way he smelled to notice right off
how distant he was toward her. She did notice after awhile when all he did
was stand stiffly against her. “Spike,” she spoke with concern, pulling
away from him and looking up at his face. “What happened?”
“What do you think?” he asked, his voice heavy with contempt. “You killed
me.”
A long pause followed that statement. “What?”
Spike smiled coldly at her disbelief. “You think this is real, pet? Any of
it?”
“Spike, you’re not making sense. I didn’t kill you.”
He stepped forward at that, and this time his proximity was neither
comforting nor reassuring. This time it was menacing, and Buffy pulled her
towel closer around her and backed away.
“Sure you did, just like you did Angel. The minute you saw that soul
shining in our eyes and you,” Spike pressed his hand against the wound on
her back and she barely managed to not cry out. Buffy was now pressed up
against him, and she couldn’t help but shiver in fear. This wasn’t her
Spike.
“Please, stop,” she begged, but he pressed harder into the wound, his hand
bunching the towel at her back. Buffy couldn’t help but cry out then, but
Spike drew her head forward and his shoulder stifled her cries.
“I really did love you, you know,” he informed her matter-of-factly,
rubbing the hand he had at the back of her head through her wet hair,
pulling at the wet strands and rocking her head back and forth against his
shoulder. He was being cruel and acting more than a little insane. “But
you already knew that. Laughed at it, you did, with your lack of caring,”
he stopped moving his hand and tightened his hold on her hair. “And your
manipulating.” Spike pulled so hard on her hair that her scalp began to
bleed. Tears welled up in her eyes from the pain.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Well, I’m a bit peeved,” he replied almost casually, walking towards the
sink and pushing Buffy with him, his hand still pulling at her hair. “I do
everything for you. I gave you my body and my soul quite literally, and
all I asked was something in return. Guess I forgot that death was your
gift.” He was pressing her into the edge of the cabinet now, the sharp
corner jabbing painfully into the small of her back.
“Spike, please...”
“Never sat well with me why you sent your sweetie-bear away. All that
hulking mass of brooding and you sent it packing; for what possible
reason? And then it occurred to me… after the painful death in which my
skin melted away and my bones turned to ash,” he spat in her face. Buffy
turned away, cringing. “You knew I would die, and you wanted it. Couldn’t
let that happen to Angel, no. But Spike? Now there’s the perfect
fix. There’s only one way to get rid of the pathetic little puppy that’s
always nipping at your heels, and that’s by puttin’ it to sleep. Well,” he
added as an afterthought with a wicked grin, “there are other ways to kill
a dog.”
“I didn’t know you were going to die. God!” she screamed in pain as his
grip tightened on her hair. “If you’re dead then how are you here?”
Spike pulled both of his hands away from her and Buffy released a shaky
breath of relief. She looked into his eyes as he started laughing madly.
“I’m here?” he laughed. “I thought the whole point was that I’m not,
Slayer. Tried to do it easy, what with holding my hand and telling me you
loved me…”
“I do,” she admitted tearfully, “but I don’t understand.”
“What, is this about the guy thing? Should I preheat the oven or
something? Face it, love. You think I’m angry with you?
Baby, look at how angry you are with yourself. I’m burning in hell right
now and you’re too preoccupied with your feelings.”
“Spike, you are not making sense!” she shouted in frustration. “I did
not want you to die. I didn’t want you gone!”
“Yeah, but I am. Picked an awful time to kick it, didn’t I? What would’ve
happened if I’d made it out of the Hellmouth with you, Buffy? What if I
miraculously didn’t burn up as we ran from the wreckage that is Sunnydale
and I was really here with you now?”
Buffy stared into his eyes, seeing something other than cruelty in them
for the first time that night.
“You would—”
Knock knock knock.
Water rippled and splashed around her as she came to. Buffy looked around.
She was back in the bathtub and her towel was folded on top of the toilet
seat beside her. Spike was gone. Again.
“Buffy? Are you still in there?” asked a groggy voice from the other side
of the door.
“Y-Yeah,” she replied, sitting up in the water and wincing at pain in her
back. How did she fall asleep?
“Are you going to be much longer? ‘Cause I’ve really got to pee.”
“I’ll be out in a second, Will,” she replied, hauling herself out of the
tub and pulling her towel around her.
Buffy watched as the water swirled down the drain and examined her wound
in the mirror. She turned around to look behind her but Spike wasn’t
standing there this time. It had all been a dream.
She sighed in disappointment. Sure, the dream had been more like a
nightmare, but at least she’d seen him again. Although she wasn’t quite
sure she wanted to see him like that ever again. Buffy returned her eyes
to the mirror and screamed. Spike was standing behind her, his eyes fixed
on her in an icy stare. She whipped her head back around to stare behind
her and found nothing.
Willow anxiously called out her name before opening the door. “What
happened?” she asked, placing a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
“Will,” she panted desperately, tears burning in her eyes.
“Something’s messing with me.”
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