Chapter 12
Chapter Notes: Hope no one minds the angsty bits. Don’t worry, like a freshly polished boy band with a song about makin’ sweet love…it won’t last very long. YAY! Thanks for reading!!
“Oops,” Buffy said apologetically as her fist went straight through a punching bag, tearing right into it and sending a cloud of dust up into the air.
“You seem tense,” Giles said with a slight smile and helped pull her fist out of the now ruined bag.
She stretched her arm over her head and groaned. “I’m fine, Giles. Just getting ready for patrol.”
Someone had been tracking her. Every night on patrol for the past week, she felt a demon’s presence. Whoever the vampire was, he was powerful. Old. At first, she thought it was Angel since he’d been known to follow her before but quickly put that theory to rest when she walked into a nest of vampires. If it had been Angel trailing her, he would have come to her aid. But this vampire didn’t. He just watched.
“Yes, I can see that.” Giles muttered in confusion as she shoved kickboxing mitts onto his hands. She held his arms up in the air, placing them where she needed them, and stepped back. “We’ve done this exercise today.”
“I know.” She twirled and kicked his right hand. “And we’re doing it again.”
She felt hunted, though somehow, she didn’t think he would strike. Why, though? Was he studying her? Learning her moves? She didn’t know and wished she could regain her focus so that she could fight better. So she could put on a show for him. Maybe showing him how skilled she was, he’d continue to stay away in fear that he’d be jumping into a losing battle. But her curiosity was killing her and she had to know who he was and what he wanted.
A gust of air flew into Giles’ face as she kicked his left hand, catching him off guard.
“Wait until I am ready!”
“Your hands are too low.” She bounced on her heels and cracked her neck as she waited for him to hold his hands where she required them. “Higher. I want to see if I can hit it.”
Nothing felt right.
Something was wrong with her.
Buffy couldn’t really explain it, but for the past week everything felt off, shifted to the left and just out of reach, like she’d taken a sleeping pill and hadn’t quite slept off all the effects. She couldn’t concentrate in school. Her mind drifted in and out without warning. She’d forget to eat. Forget if she brushed her teeth. It was hard to remember the littlest things and even harder to stay sharp and alert. It was pissing her off that she couldn’t focus.
Whenever she did have a moment of clarity, however, she felt a very strong pull towards something. Like a ghost trying to make contact with the other side. Sometimes the presence was so strong that it scared her that she could feel it so clearly. So many emotions, so much frustration and anger, and she couldn’t figure out if it really existed, if they were her own emotions trying to break the surface or if she might be losing her mind.
She was having a moment of clarity right then, that pulsing sensation that someone was crossing over, crossing through her. She wondered if psychics felt like that, if the dead communicated that way with them. Tiny little pulses of emotion, fuzzy and warbled yet plain as day. This time, whoever the ghost was, he was excited about something.
Giles pursed his lips and raised his hands over his head. “If you kick me in the face I will not be pleased.”
“Then close your eyes.” Without delay, she spun, grunting as she strained to reach the mitt with her heel. Once she made contact, she landed on both feet and started bouncing again.
“Nicely done,” he said as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his wrist. “You’re sure there is nothing wrong?”
She let out a puff of air and did a one-two punch into his mitts when he was in position again. “I can’t explain it. Raise them higher.”
She was afraid to mention it to Giles, but even more unnerving than her lack of focus was that there were huge gaps in her memory. Things she couldn’t remember no matter how hard she tried.
Like the previous weekend, for example. Why were they at that factory and where had Angel gone? And when the hell had a vampire bitten her? Surely she’d have remembered that. She was ashamed with herself, too, because every time she touched the scar on her neck she felt incredibly aroused, almost instantly, and if that didn’t prove that something was wrong in Buffyland, then nothing would. And yet, she couldn’t stop touching it. It sent shivers down her spine and made her ache between her legs and if she touched it just right she could trigger one hell of an orgasm. She’d only done that once.
Ok, three times.
But that was sick, wasn’t it? God, she was sick. Something was seriously, seriously wrong with her. Willow and Xander had to notice because they were acting weird, too. Stopping in mid-sentence, as if they were about to reveal something they shouldn’t. As if they knew something she didn’t. She felt very, very alone. She couldn’t even write about it because someone had stolen her diary. If her mother was the culprit, she hadn’t said anything to her nor had she acted any differently. In fact, she was just about the only one Buffy wasn’t suspicious of.
Giles sighed and lifted his arms again and she took several steps back, sprinted, spun and made contact with both mitts as she leapt into the air. Giles stumbled on his feet from the impact. “You almost missed that time.”
“I know.” She pulled one arm in front of her, hooking her hand behind the elbow to stretch it and then shook it out. “Let’s do more punches.”
It had to end. Tonight she would make the vampire come out and face her. She didn’t have time for games and didn’t like being followed. But she would be prepared in case she’d finally met her match. She’d get her focus back. Then she’d kill him.
Giles got into the appropriate stance, studying the combination of her arms as she pummeled the mitts. “Slow down, Buffy. You’ll tire and be of no use on patrol this evening.”
“I can’t afford to slow down, Giles.” She started using her elbows in the combinations, spinning and jumping a bit as she landed the back of her elbow onto the mitt.
“When did you learn that?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. Then she shrugged and did it again. “But I like it.”
“That looks like something Sp—” Giles stopped himself. “Spanish, I was going to say…Spanish fighters would use their elbows.”
“Uh-huh.” She sneered as she landed a series of punches and kicks to Giles’ already aching hands. “Damn, that’s fun.” She smiled and bounced on her heels again, feeling energetic and almost giddy. The pulsing sensation she’d become all too familiar with was very strong then and she couldn’t stop grinning.
Giles took his mitts off and eyed her curiously. “You’re having fun?”
“Yeah. I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. She was still antsy and her eyes darted around the training room, landing on the Wing Chun dummy. She was about to start her timing and speed training when Giles stopped her.
“Buffy, you can talk to me, you know. I might not know everything, but I know when something is wrong. The fact that you’re enjoying training is my first clue.”
Sighing in frustration, she realized she wasn’t going to get off so easily. “Do you ever feel like…someone’s inside of you?” When Giles remained fittingly silent for that question, she rolled her eyes. “Ok, rephrasing. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Well, we both know they exist.”
“I know, but like…in the spooky Halloween sense? Humans who die and their souls get trapped here so they haunt you and try to communicate something? Like Patrick Swayze in Ghost when he uses Whoopi Goldberg to talk to Demi Moore and she doesn’t believe it’s him until she says ‘ditto’ and then they have that scene with the touching.” She paused and frowned. “You know, that always grossed me out because all I could think was that Whoopi Goldberg was the one really touching her.”
“Point, Buffy?” Giles said in frustration.
“My point is that I think I’m being haunted by a ghost.” She picked at the tape wrapped around her hands. “Like, all the time.”
“I see.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the pummel horse. “Have you seen it?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t see anything, I just feel it. It’s a weird feeling, too, like we’re sharing the same body. I know that’s strange, but it feels strange. I can feel him all the time. His emotions and also when he’s hungry. Can ghosts get hungry?”
“I-I’m not sure.” Giles removed his glasses, needing a distraction from her questions. He didn’t want to tell her that what she was feeling was a link to her mate. She would figure it out soon enough. Patience wasn’t one of Spike’s virtues. He was surprised that so many days had passed since the forgetting spell without a word from him.
“The only time I don’t feel him is when I’m patrolling.” Because she felt someone else’s presence then, but she hadn’t quite put the two together yet. “And for a few hours during the day it’s pretty quiet.”
“Have you spoken with Angel?” Giles was desperate to change the subject and also, he’d been curious about the missing vampire for a while.
“No.” She sighed and started peeling the tape off her hands, just then realizing how late it was getting. “He’s done one of his famous disappearing acts again. Who knows when he’ll turn up?”
“Do you still…” He trailed off and sighed, unsure of how to word his question without alarming her. Perhaps he should have asked this before all the spell nonsense but he probably wouldn’t have received an honest answer then. Now, he had to know, had to be certain he’d done the right thing. “Do you still love Angel?”
She was rightfully shocked by his question and she took her time to unravel the last bit of tape from her hand as she thought about it. “I don’t know what I feel for Angel. I think I’ll always care about him but there’s too much…” She shuddered. “Bad history. You know?”
Giles laughed humorlessly. “Yes, I think I can relate.”
“I just try not to think about it. There’s enough going on right now for me to worry about.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail and grabbed a stake. “Anyway, thanks for the chat. Gotta go dust some vamps.”
“Be careful.” But she didn’t hear him. She was already out the door.
* * * *
Her heart was racing. Droplets of sweat formed on her upper lip and she licked them off, letting her eyes dart from tombstone to tombstone. She’d been chasing a vampire for almost an hour now and he’d darted behind a mausoleum. The sound of air rushing in and out of her lungs was providing a nice soundtrack to her chase and she stealthily moved forward. For a fledgling, he was fast. Maybe he’d been on a track team when he was human. He was damn good.
She really had overdone the training. There was no reason for her to be winded so quickly but luckily, her prey was hiding and giving her body a chance to play catch-up. She turned to the side and crept along the wall of the mausoleum, sensing him standing just on the other side. Stupidly, he lunged into her line of vision and roared. She rolled her eyes and shoved her stake in his heart. His eyebrows shot up right as he disintegrated into dust.
“Like I didn’t see that coming.” She brushed the dust off her arms and walked away from the mausoleum to finish her sweep of this cemetery before she moved to the next one. But then she felt him, and a slow smile crawled along the edge her lips. She was afraid he wouldn’t show this evening, but he didn’t let her down.
“I know you’re watching me,” she said loudly, standing perfectly still. When no answer came, she huffed and put her hands on her hips. “You know, stalking girls is kinda creepy and while it makes for a great plot in a thriller flick, I hate to break it to ya, I’m not the type to run away screaming when you pop out of nowhere.”
She heard something then, a cracking noise. She turned towards the sound and she tried not to gasp. Nothing was there. She lifted her stake in the air and moved in a small circle, straining to see through the darkness. Her heart rate increased and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. He was close, closer than she’d felt him before. For a brief second, she thought she might have made a mistake calling him out.
“I know you’ve been following me. I feel you there. Are you afraid to show yourself?” She heard that snapping sound again as he drew nearer and she smiled. So he didn’t like being called a coward. “Aww, what’s the matter? You aren’t afraid of little ol’ me, now, are you?”
She smelled cigarette smoke and scrunched her nose in disgust. But it gave her a target to focus on. He wasn’t far. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m just gonna put this stake right into your heart and make you go bye-bye. So come on out, now, and let’s have some fun.”
She twirled around when she felt something flip her ponytail, and she crouched slightly in a fighter’s stance. No one was there. “Ok, now you’re just pissing me off!”
She could feel him everywhere. He was moving fast, trying to trip her up and it was working. Buffy had to think quickly or she was going to get herself killed. Remembering her meditation training, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, desperate to regain the focus she’d lost over the past few days. She inhaled slowly and concentrated on the sounds of his footsteps, the crunching of leaves, the air he moved as he lurked behind her. Then she felt nothing. Had he gone? Tentatively, she opened her eyes and he was standing right in front of her.
“Hello, pet.” Bright blue eyes twinkled as he looked at her with a sly smile. Then, he smashed his fist into her jaw and she went flying backwards. As soon as she landed on her back, he was right there, pinning her to the ground.
She was stunned for a moment, but only a moment, and she was able to flip him off of her. She hurried to her feet, took a good look at him as he did the same. Leather coat, white hair, dark jeans, boots, black shirt, one bitch of a smirk and a silky chuckle. She didn’t like that he was laughing at her. She moved forward. He put his hands up.
“Easy, Slayer. You look tired.”
Seething, she reached for her stake but…she didn’t have a stake. Her eyes widened as she patted down her hips for her weapon, raising her gaze to his smiling face. He held her stake in the air for her to see.
“Looking for this?”
She reached for it and he laughed, moving out of her way. But the slayer wasn’t one for games at the moment. She clocked him right in the chin, spun and kicked him in the chest and swept his legs out from underneath him, knocking him to the ground.
“You’ve got a smart mouth,” she said angrily. She straddled his waist and pinned his arms above his head. Why he made no move to resist her, she didn’t know.
“That’s not all, babe.” He licked his bottom lip and smiled in delight. It was infuriating her.
“Who are you?” She squeezed his wrists in case he tried to run. He remained still.
He looked into her eyes, trying his hardest not to let on how much her question hurt him, keeping his expression playful and teasing. “Now that’s a question, isn’t it?”
“Tell. Me. Who. You. Are.” She shouldn’t have pressed into him because now she could feel how taut and muscular his chest was. And she was starting to tingle like she did when she touched the scar on her neck. This was just weird.
“Buffy…you know who I am.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”
Instead of answering her, he swallowed, tilted his head a bit, and eyed the scar on her neck. She started breathing heavily, her eyes wide and alert, but he was able to free his left hand, using her confusion to his advantage. Slowly, he lifted it towards her neck and said, “Where’d you get this? Do you remember?”
“I…” The tip of his middle finger grazed the bite mark and she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed for a second as it sent a shock of electricity straight to her core. “I don’t…” She shook her head and in doing so, remembered what was going on. She grabbed his hand and slammed it onto the ground, adjusting her body a bit so he couldn’t move again. “Why are you following me?”
“Just like it.” He shrugged and smiled at her again.
He was pissing her off so much by not telling her anything, just smiling at her as if she were the most amusing thing he’d ever seen. She wanted to kill him. But she couldn’t. Every time the thought crossed her mind, she felt a heavy pang of loss, a strong and powerful urge to cry. With a loud, frustrated groan, she jumped off of him and took a few steps back. He stood and shoved his hands in his coat pockets, blinking slowly as he gave her a sleepy smile.
“Can’t kill me, can you?”
She pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He laughed softly and leaned forward to say, “Don’t worry, I can’t kill you either.”
She raised a suspicious eyebrow and started circling him. “Right. Lure me into a false sense of security and then make your move. Not falling for that trick.”
He shrugged again. “Believe what you want. But I won’t hurt you. What sort of husband would I be?”
She stopped and turned her head towards him. “Say huh?”
He grinned, licked his lip and turned to face her. “Darling, you don’t know me?” He clutched his chest comically. “We’re betrothed.”
“Are you taking silly pills? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
He closed his eyes and cracked his neck. “Yes. You have.”
She watched his hands ball into tight fists at his side, a muscle tick in his jaw and then he opened his eyes once more. If it weren’t for the undead part, he’d be really hot. “I think you might be confusing me with someone else.”
“Right. Tried to do it nice like. We’ll try it the other way.” He lunged forward and with lightning speed, she was held up against him and his hand was under her chin, tilting her head to the side. She wiggled and grunted, trying to get out of his hold but then his fangs were in her throat and she started moaning. Loudly. The hands she’d raised to push him away were clawing into his coat, pulling him closer. She could feel him moaning, too, rubbing against her.
It hurt, but it hurt so good that she was helpless to do anything more than whimper and hold him to her. She felt him gently remove his fangs and her vision blurred, her heart thrummed wildly in her chest as a strange urge coursed through her veins, silently begging her for more. She didn’t know what to do, though. She couldn’t explain the sensation charging inside her and through her glassy eyes, she managed to see him lean his head to the side. He was panting, moving his hand from her chin to the back of her head and he pulled her forward, holding her mouth an inch away from his neck. Something clicked inside her and she bit down, feeling instantaneous relief as the metallic taste of his blood poured into her mouth. She messily drank from him, licking the wound on his neck between moans and he dug his hands into her waist, gasping with pleasure.
Her mind started to buzz as if waking, that small moment in time where things are hazy, disoriented, but only a second longer and your mind sharpens, remembers that you’re no longer asleep. Every swallow of his blood made that sensation clearer, fused the missing pieces together. She knew who he was now. She remembered everything and yet she couldn’t stop drinking from him. His hands coasted up her spine and he whispered her name. That’s what did it.
She pushed him away, hard, both of them stumbling, panting, staring at one another. He didn’t say a word. He just licked the blood from his lips and stared.
“No.” Angrily, she wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. “No, no, no!”
“Buffy—”
“What did you do, Spike?” Her chin trembled but she remained stern and hard, taking a small step away.
“I did what you wanted. What you asked of me.” He knew this was how it would happen, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for this. Her blood was coursing through his veins, energizing him, making him stronger, reminding him that she belonged to him. The need to take control was powerful, but he resisted it in the wake of her expression. She was horrified.
“Buffy, I lo—”
“Don’t! Say it. Do not say that to me.” She held a hand out between them, though he’d made no move to approach her. His shoulders sagged and he exhaled, clenching his jaw as he looked at the ground. She was so bewildered, still unable to process everything on top of the strange sensations vibrating through her. Her body was screaming at her to be with him, battling internally with the good sense she’d been taught in her training. It was too much.
“I can’t…I can’t handle this right now. Just…stay away from me!” She backed up and Spike watched her sadly.
“Whatever you want, Slayer.”
“Dammit, Spike.” She started crying, raking her hands through her hair, unknowingly pulling out tufts from her ponytail. He was killing her. That crestfallen face of his was killing her. She wasn’t supposed to give a crap about him and yet she could feel everything inside him as easily as she could her own inner struggle. “You’re making me feel this, aren’t you?”
“Not doing anything. Except leaving.” He shook his head and cursed beneath his breath, turning to walk away. He couldn’t stand to see her cry, couldn’t stand there one more second and feel how much she hated him, how much she resisted any and all kind thoughts about him, shoved them aside to make room for the disgust she felt for the things she’d done. She’d thrown up the walls the second she figured it all out, just as he knew she would. He took two steps and she grabbed his arm.
“I don’t hate you,” she said, unable to look him in the eyes. “I don’t.”
“But you hate yourself. Hate what we did.”
Her face twitched uncomfortably and she looked at the ground. “I don’t know what I think right now, but I know that I can’t stand to see you like this. I don’t hate you.” She looked at him then with such conviction in her eyes that he nodded in acceptance.
He wiped a bit of blood off her chin with his thumb and offered a tiny smile. “Guess that’s something. See you around, Slayer.” He looked at her a second longer, then he turned on his heel and walked away.
She watched his figure disappear into the shadows and she let out a heavy exhalation of breath. Almost instantaneously, the feeling of loss overwhelmed her, missing him as if he were miles away, as if he were something to miss, as if he wasn’t Spike and she wasn’t Buffy. As if they were lovers. She licked the rest of the blood off her lips and closed her eyes, her body tensing as even the smallest taste of him brought her a bit of comfort. She didn’t know how long she could resist this and there was only one person who could put an end to her worries.
He was going to be pissed at her for allowing Spike to claim her, but maybe if she promised to buy some tea and those really expensive pastries with the honey drizzle that he liked so much, the lecture would only last thirty minutes instead of an hour. She’d deal with it, though, because she was miserable.
And since when did she cry this much?
“You big baby.” She sniffled, rose to her feet and walked to her watcher’s house, confused by the sadness she felt that Spike hadn’t followed her there.