1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50
Kallysten
Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where.
Story notes : AU, set after As We Were and before Hell's Bells.
Warnings : Character Death, Bloodplay, NC-17 in future chapters
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com As for most fanfic authors,
feedback motivates me to write faster... (hint, hint)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Spike came out of the kitchen carrying a glass of warm blood. Seated between Red and the Nibblet on the sofa, Buffy was slowly telling about her hallucinations. He handed the glass to her and she accepted it with a nod, though she just held it, not even taking a sip. Leaning against the wall, he listened to her words as intently as he was observing her. Even now her gaze seemed to shift out of focus sometimes.
“I've been having these... flashes. Hallucinations, I guess.”
“Since when?” the Witch asked, throwing a quick look in Spike’s direction. There was no doubt that she thought it was his fault.
“Night before last. I was checking houses on the list you put together, looking for Warren and his pals. Then bam. Some kind of gross, waxy demon thing poked me.”
“It was a Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik,” Spike supplied.
Dawn and Willow looked at him questioningly, but Buffy was oblivious. Rubbing her arm absently, she kept telling her story.
“It stung me or something, and then it was like I…”
Her voice faltered for a second, then she said with more conviction : “No. Not like. I was in an institution. I didn't know what it was at first. But then it happened a couple more times. There were doctors, nurses, other patients...”
Her eyes were becoming even more unfocused, and Spike thought for a second that she was slipping into her hallucination again. But she kept narrating.
“They told me I was sick. Crazy, I guess. And that Sunnydale. And... all of this. None of it was real. Just part of some delusion in my head.”
Spike shook his head slightly, repressing a sad grin. It certainly wouldn’t be hard to dismiss “all of this” as unreal. Vampires, demons, witches, vengeance demons, mystic energy, Slayer…
Apparently Buffy noticed his small movement and she tried to justify herself.
“I know how it sounds. But it all felt so... real.”
“Did it hurt?” Willow asked quietly. “The, uh, hallucination?”
“No, it...”
She stopped and swallowed heavily. Her eyes slid toward Dawn.
“Mom was there,” she whispered.
That seemed to touch the teen more than all that Buffy had said so far.
“She was?”
Buffy nodded.
“And dad too. They were together. Like they used to be. Before Sunnydale...”
Silence. Spike observed the two sisters. Both had the same look of longing. He had never met their dad, but he had pieced together enough information from Dawn to know he didn’t deserve the title of father. Joyce, on the contrary, had been a fine lady. He liked her. He could guess how much her daughters missed her, how much seeing her must have upset Buffy.
“Okay! All in favor of research?”
Red’s fake enthusiasm pulled Dawn out of her thoughts. She raised her hand like Willow.
“Ok, Dawnie, you can help me research. We'll hop online, check out all the...”
Her eyes questioned Spike.
“Glarghk Guhl Kashma'nik,” he repeated slowly. “I’ll go out and see if I can find that nasty bugger. Might tell me what he did to the Slayer and how…”
His eyes settled on Buffy and he swore. By the glazed look in her eyes, she
was not with them any more.
* * * * *
Willow observed as Spike chained the still passed out demon. How he had
managed to find the thing, catch it and bring it back to Buffy’s home by
himself, she had no idea. She was glad he had, though, having found that the
antidote to Buffy’s condition was produced by the same stinger that had poisoned
her in the first place.
“Spike… Why do you do all that?”
The demon was now secured. Spike turned to her, an incredulous look on his face.
“Are you daft? I’m in love with the girl. ‘Thought I made that clear to the lot of you many times.”
“But she doesn’t love you back,” Willow insisted.
He scowled at her. “She needs me. That’s enough.”
“She needs you only because you…”
For a couple of seconds, his eyes flashed yellow, and she couldn’t help taking a step back.
“If I was playing games with her mind, know what I would ask her next? To kill you for me. I would, if I wasn’t sure that would destroy her. Just because you couldn’t stop yourself from using your powers doesn’t mean I can’t.”
Willow felt her cheeks burn as if he had slapped her, though she couldn’t have told if she was blushing from anger or shame.
“Do whatever you need with that bugger,” he growled, “and hurry to make your bloody antidote. The Slayer is waiting.”
She nodded and approached both demons. Strangely, even after his threats, she
was more afraid of the unconscious one than of Spike. She began to realize that,
maybe, Angel had been wrong.
* * * * *
Leaving the two Witches in the kitchen, Spike climbed the steps to Buffy’s room. Of course, since Tara and Willow had brewed their antidote without magic, 'Witches' was not really accurate any more. It had taken them all night, and he had doubted a couple of times when their concoctions actually exploded, but now they were almost done. The door was open, and Dawn was next to the bed, staring at a dazed Buffy.
“I don’t have a sister,” the Slayer mumbled quietly.
He saw Dawn jerk back just as his own heart felt like stabbed. He came closer to the kid, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“She doesn’t mean it, Bit,” he said soothingly. “She’s hallucinating.”
Dawn shook her head, and her voice was full of tears.
“It’s her dream world and I’m not even there.”
“If it was a dream world, she wouldn’t be in a nut house.”
As he spoke, Buffy seemed to snap out of her trance. Blinking, she watched both Dawn and him, but didn’t say a word.
“Hey pet. Back among us already?”
She frowned as her gaze settled on him.
“You’re a vampire. I can’t love you. Go away.”
For a minute, as her inexpressive voice penetrated his heart, he was tempted to do just that. Go away. Leave her and her bloody morals. Let her deal with her problems as she could. Let her rot in hell.
He realized he was gripping Dawn’s shoulder hard enough to hurt her, and forced his fingers to let go. It was hard to bring the smirk forward, but he managed to. Years of practice helped.
“As soon as you have drunk Red’s potion and get lucid again, you and I will talk, pet. And it will be time to decide once and for all if you want me around or not.”
Talking of the devil… Willow entered, a steaming mug in her hands. She was beaming.
“Here’s your yummy antidote, Buffy!” she said cheerfully. “Drink it all down and everything should go back to normal.”
She handed the mug to Buffy, who cupped it in her hands, staring at the dark blue liquid.
“Thank...”
As in slow motion, Spike saw the mug fall from her hand and roll down the side of the bed, shattering on the floor, staining everything on its way in blue. A quick look at her eyes was unneeded to tell him Buffy had phased out again. She seemed to hallucinate more and more.
“Red,” he growled, “get more of your potion. We’ll make her drink by force.”
The girl shook her head, wrapping her arms around her.
“There isn’t any left. And I used all of the root…”
“Magic shop,” Dawn interrupted. “We need to get there fast.”
“Fast,” Spike repeated. “Go. I’ll stay with her.”
Soon, they were gone, and he was left alone with the unconscious woman who seemed to have so much fun shredding his heart. Thoughtfully, he looked at the liquid spilt on the bed and floor. How long until Red made enough potion again? How long would Buffy stay in her illusion? Too long, maybe. Maybe this time she wouldn’t be able to come back. Maybe she would let herself be convinced that the hallucination was the real world.
He couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t lose her like that. He had to reach her and… And what? It wasn’t like she ever listened to what he told her. Still, he had to try. He would not stop fighting for her.
Unable to look at the faraway look on her face any longer, his eyes drifted on her, settling on her arm. The mark where the demon had stung her should have healed by now, yet it was still slightly red and swollen.
The demon face came forward even before he was conscious of his decision. Sitting on the bed by her side, he leaned over to brush his lips on hers.
“I’m on my way, luv. Wait for me.”
His fangs sank precisely on each side of the red mark on her arm. He pulled on her blood slowly, cringing at the bitter taste mixed to her usual sweetness. He felt a vague of dizziness hit him and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he was still sitting next to Buffy. She was now staring at him, bound by her wrists to the bed. She looked weak, just like when she was ill, just like when he had turned her. But, unlike then, she looked scared.
“Luv… do you know who I am?”
Her eyes widened a little at his quiet words.
“You can’t… He’s not real… You’re not real…”
His hand, of its own will, reached to her face and brushed against her cheek. She was warm. Human. And so was he, he realized with surprise.
“This is an hallucination, pet. You were poisoned. I drank your blood so I am here with you, but we can’t stay. We don’t belong here.”
She struggled against her restraints and he freed her, curious to what she would do. Instantly, she was out of the bed, retreating to a corner of the room, sinking to the floor. Unwilling to scare her even more, he didn’t move.
“Slayer, you have killed more vampires and demons than anyone before you. Hell, you even took a goddess. You are stronger than this!”
Her eyes were on him, but he could tell she hadn’t paid attention to what he had said. She was playing with a strand of her hair, mumbling indistinctly.
“Hair… Different… Not him… Doesn’t exist…”
He passed a hand in his hair, pulling a longish strand so that he could see it. Soft curls, light brown. He had a short laugh when he noticed the name plate on his chest.
“This is not real,” he pleaded. “William is not real. But Spike is. Spike loves you more than his unlife.”
He stepped to her, slowly so he wouldn’t frighten her, and knelt in front of her trembling body.
“I love you human. I love you vampire. I love you insane. If you stay here, so will I. Even if it’s nothing but a dream. I’d rather be dreaming your dream, Buffy, than living one more day without you.”
At last, he seemed to have broken through her barriers. Her hand lifted to his face, and, light as a feather, traced his features.
“You would stay with me here?” her voice asked, raucous.
That was not what he wanted. That was not what he had planed when he drank her poisoned blood. Yet the answer came easily.
“If you stay, I stay,” he repeated. “I love you.”
She leaned forward until her cheek rested against his shoulder. Tentatively, he encircled her with both arms, sighing when she relaxed against him.
“You would really give up all of it for me?” she asked in a whisper.
He chuckled. “There’s not much for me to give up, luv. The chip, the hunger, a life with no friends.”
“Immortality,” she replied softly.
Absently, his fingers started tracing patterns on her back.
“Immortality can be worse than death when you’re alone, luv.”
“Not alone. Dawn. She’s your friend.”
“I love her because she’s so much like you. But she’s not you. She’ll never be you. I’ll miss her though.”
“Me too…”
Slowly, her head came up next to his, and he looked into the hazel depths, wondering what she was thinking. Her mouth descended on his, kissing chastely at first, gently. Then her tongue rubbed against his bottom lip, before slipping past his opening lips. He let her lead the pace of the kiss, touching lightly her tongue with his. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, and dimly he realized she was the first woman he had ever kissed as a human. The thought sent fire running through his veins, and he pulled her closer to him until she was straddling his lap. From tender and slow, the kiss became passionate and hungry, mouths rediscovering each other for the first time all over again.
“You get the hell away from my daughter!”
Buffy pulled away from him, jumping to her feet, looking startled. He rose too, turning to the woman who had just interrupted one of the sweetest moments he had ever lived. He smirked at the impression of déjà vu, almost expecting the lady to swing an axe at him.
“Hello Joyce. Nice seeing you again.”
She stared at him for a moment, before concentrating on Buffy.
“Honey, he won’t hurt you any more, don’t be afraid.”
He felt her hand take his, fingers weaving together.
“I’m not afraid, mom. Not anymore.”
Joyce took a step toward them, and Buffy held his hand tighter.
“Buffy, you need to get away from him, come to me…”
“I’m sorry, mom. I’ll miss you. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. He loves me. And I love him.”
The words hit him like a mace. He felt his breath accelerate and blinked away tears. When he could see again, Joyce had disappeared, and so had the hospital. His eyes searched and found Buffy’s. They were looking straight at him.
“I love you,” she repeated. “I loved you when I was human. I love you even more today.”
Unable to force a word out of his tight throat, he rested his head on her chest, his arms sneaking around her. She threaded her fingers in his hair, caressing softly. Time passed. When the Witches and the Nibblet came back, they found them in the same position, quietly enjoying their newfound peace. He explained what had happened, an edited version of it anyway, and drank some antidote too. Then he listened, almost not believing his own ears, as Buffy told her friends and sister that she had started falling in love with him long before he turned her.
He didn’t notice when the tears started rolling down his face.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50