Chapter 2
They stared at each other, bewildered a moment. It was Spike who broke the silence.
“You think it’s…” he paused.
“The First?” she said flatly. She sighed and looked him in the eye. “It’s why me and Angel shared dreams.”
Spike shifted. “Oh” he said, turning slightly so she couldn’t see his look of disappointment. There was a silence, until she touched him gently on the shoulder. He jumped, but tried to keep his calm.
“Go get your Scooby friends to help us out.” He said croakily.
“No.” she said defiantly. He frowned and she sighed exasperated.
“I just don’t want them to know yet, that’s all. They’ll freak out and assume it’s The First and… and we have no proof yet.”
After a while, he nodded.
“Sure.”
After saying their goodbyes, Buffy wandered about miserably. After a few hours with no hope of spotting any demons or vampires she pocketed her stake and headed home. But the dream had been playing through her mind all night, and there was a feeling of dread hanging over her head. She remembered what The First had done to Angel. She remembered what she had seen, Angelus murdering the maid under the staircase, and the look on his face when he realised Buffy was watching him. The same look Spike had given her in their dream.
She shut her eyes to try and get rid of the thoughts as she turned the key in the lock and shut the door behind her. She saw that Giles and Xander had fallen asleep at the dining room table. Anya was curled up in an armchair asleep in the sitting room, Andrew was sprawled out on the sofa, and potentials lay about every where you looked. She went into the kitchen and looked wistfully at the basement door. Spike had moved back to the crypt for a few days after his torture by The First, whilst Clem was away for the week. She saw Faith and Robin asleep, heads resting on the kitchen island; a map of Sunnydale sprawled out underneath them.
She yawned and made her way upstairs, frowning in disappointment at the potentials who had made themselves comfy in the hallway. Her home had become a youth hostel, but she was glad they were safe. She checked on Dawn and knew Willow would be asleep, and crept into her own room. She yawned again as she got into bed without getting dressed, she was way too tired. She rested her head on the pillow and went out like a light…
Spike had wandered a few feet, turned around and followed Buffy. He had no idea why, but there was an instinct that made him do it. Following slowly behind, hiding in bushes he made it all the way to her house. He watched her wistfully as she made her way inside. He saw her through the window as she looked into the rooms, made her way through the house, and then went upstairs.
Making his way into the back, he slowly opened the back door and crept past Faith who slept on the end of the kitchen unit, and made his way into the basement. He sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. He took a glance around and then fell back, ready to get some sleep before the sun came up…
Wandering past endless rows of houses through the streets of London, Buffy looked up and saw it. She didn’t know what made the house so special, or how she knew it was the one to go in. It looked just like most other houses on the street, though they were Mansion-like. It was dark and grim-looking, yet there were plenty of flowers to hide the blackened bricks. Several people milled about inside, Buffy could see. They were wandering down from the church up the road to what looked like some kind of gathering inside. She crept up the driveway and stood at the window. Several women sat crying in one corner, two men stood talking solemnly over brandy by the fireplace. Other people, all dressed in black, wandered past continually, yet Buffy saw someone who caught her eye.
She entered the building without being noticed at all, which made her wonder if they could actually see her. She walked amongst the gathered for a while until she came upon whom she had been searching for.
Sat by himself on a large sofa was a young boy, no older than 8 years old, in a black, Victorian-style suit, staring into the space before him. Nobody seemed to pay attention to him; they just walked past and whispered continually. She was about to approach when a young girl with dark, curly hair sat next to him. Buffy held her breath for the girl to speak, but a lady from the far corner shouted her.
“Cecilly! Here, immediately!” she hissed, and the girl did as she was told, leaving the boy by himself looking dismayed. He seemed so small to be sat by himself with no one to watch him. His blonde hair and startling blue eyes made her wonder why no one had noticed him. He stood up and left the room without a sound. Heads turned on his exit but still no one spoke to him. Buffy gave disgusted stares to them as she left the room, not that it did much good. She spotted the boy sat on the staircase. She stood in front of him and waited till he looked up. After a while he did and jumped up.
“Sorry!” he said, moving out of her way.
“No, no!” she said quickly, “It’s ok, really.”
He stopped reluctantly. He seemed surprised that someone was speaking to him. There was a lengthy pause, then they sat together.
“What’s going on?” she said as they both sat on the stairs.
He looked at the ground and after a while he muttered, “my daddy. They put him in the ground today.”
Well done, Buffy she thought.
“I’m sorry.”
The boy looked up at her. “Are you an Angel?” he said suddenly. She looked taken aback, yet noticed how sweet it was. She smiled.
“No. Why would you think that?”
He shrugged. “You dress funny.”
Buffy looked down and realised her fashion was a lot different to those around her.
“Guess I do stick out a bit, huh?” she said.
He giggled, which seemed so out of place in the room, “you talk funny too.” He said. She only nodded.
“Someone told me that an Angel would come and tell me if my Daddy was in heaven.” He sighed.
She didn’t know what to say to that. A young boy just couldn’t understand about life and death.
“I’m Buffy.” She said with a smile. “What’s your name?”
He waited a moment unsure. “William.” He said.
Buffy’s eyes widened.
“What?”
Spike’s eyes darted around the room a moment. The room obviously belonged to a young girl, the walls were pastel pink, the carpet was cream and the bedspread was purple.
Spike heard a girl humming to herself. Intrigued, he moved further into the room, and he spotted her crouched out of sight behind her bed playing with her dolls. Her blonde pigtails came up to her shoulders.
“Buffy.” He muttered with a smile.
She turned. “Hello. Who are you?” she asked, politely.
Spike didn’t answer. Instead he sat down beside her.
“You wanna play?” she asked sweetly.
“I’ll watch.”
“What did you say?!”
William looked confused.
Buffy stared back a moment, not understanding why she was so shocked.
Oh, an Angel will come. She thought sadly. More like an Angelus. And Drusilla. And Darla…
William stood up and cocked his head to one side. “Buffy?”
It suddenly dawned on her why he had caught her eye, why she recognised him. She would recognise Spike anywhere.
In another room there was an almighty wailing.
“That’s Dawn. She cries too much.” Buffy moaned.
Spike looked down at her. “But you love your sister, right?” he asked. She nodded her head.
“Sometimes.”
He smiled as she wittered on about something that happened at school that day. Staring straight ahead he had no idea he had vamped out and that the young Buffy was screaming out as he lent in and bit her…
Without thinking she grabbed the nearest bar from the banister and snapped it from the staircase so that one jagged end was created. In one swift move she stabbed the little boy. He looked up with sorrowful eyes.
In an instant he was dust…
Spike sat up, bolt upright and tried to gasp in lung-fulls of air. It took a while for him to realise he didn’t need to. He licked his lips to taste the copper tang and was terrified to find the blood coated his lips still. Suddenly there was an immense pain in his chest and he cried out in fury as it burned inside him.
Buffy threw a bloodcurdling scream to her room as she sat upright. Sweat poured down her face and she shook, as if in some kind of fever. Raising her hand in shock she gazed at the long piece of wood from the banister that had been her temporary stake to kill the young William. The pang of guilt did not subside. But she had other things to worry about, as she spotted the crimson liquid dripping down her neck onto the pale bedspread before her and she felt her neck to find two hoes in the side of it…
Spike, amongst the other residents of 1630 Revello Drive, had awoken and run to the bottom of the stairs. But Spike was the first to reach them and get up to Buffy’s room. He raced toward her; she shook fiercely and was then as pale as the bedspread. Except for the trail of red that ran through her fingers, which were clasped to her neck. Spike in panic, moved to embrace her, but collapsed in pain, clutching his chest. As the room filled with others who ran to help them, they both passed out in agony.
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