Chapter 5
Before she could move, Spike sent his fist into her face and she hit the wall. He grinned down murderously as he bent down and grabbed her by the front of her shirt. Like a cat playing with a mouse, he pulled her up and slammed her into the wall, letting her wriggle for a while as she tried to get free. She flailed her arms and managed to hit him a few times, but his grip didn’t cease.
“So you’re the Slayer.” He said in mock awe. She hit him again and in a flash he moved so that his hand was round her neck.
“Sweet dreams, Slayer.” He whispered as he leant in to bite her. Buffy shut her eyes and put her own hands around his neck, trying to strangle him out. Her vision blurred and she started to see spots. Suddenly something hit the back of his neck and his grip was released. He fell down as Buffy hit the floor coughing and choking.
She looked up to see another Spike with an axe in his hands. He was panicked; Buffy had never seen him like that before. He held out a hand to her and she took it gratefully. She noticed blood running down his face as he moved into the light.
“What the hell?” Buffy cried and he shushed her, moving her into the shadows.
“I just ran into… well you.” He said putting a hand to his wound.
“Huh?” she whispered. He pointed to the Spike on the ground. “They’re past-us.” He said, “Remember, Parent-Teacher Night… St Vigeous… the fun, fun getting-hit-by-an-axe-wielded-by-your-mother?” he sighed wincing.
“Mom? Mom did that?” she said, eyes widened.
“No, but the way it’s going I think she might.” He shook his head, “You did this!”
“We’re gonna kill each other.” She muttered processing the information quickly.
“You think?!” He whispered hoarsely.
“Ok, you are becoming way to American.” She chided. He rolled his eyes and hurried her along the corridor to the nearest classroom, where they would be able to talk more clearly. He locked the door behind them and Buffy examined her neck in the mirror. It had started to bruise, so that a large handprint was visible upon it. Spike almost guiltily approached. “Let me look at that.” He said quietly but she backed away a step.
“It’s ok, I’ll be fine.” She muttered. He looked hurt but ignored it.
“So, what do we do?” he asked, hands in his pockets sheepishly.
“Well, we could try… wait a minute,” she paused, “Isn’t this a dream?”
Buffy woke sharply to find herself back in the basement, where she had fallen asleep accidentally, in Spike’s arms.
She got up and nervously paced. He too stirred and woke, jumping up suddenly.
Shook up she turned to him, “that was weird. Is it just me, or are they getting clearer?” she said, voice shaking.
“I don’t think you caught the last bit.” He said, obviously freaked out himself.
“What happened?” she asked, almost sympathetic.
“You err… smashed the mirror with your fist and turned into Angel,” He said nervously, “then you hit me and I woke up.”
She paused. “What is this deal with Angel being in it all the time?” she asked, but he could only shake his head in reply.
She looked at him again and noticed a gash on his head appear. She looked down at her fist which was now dotted with blood and slashes, from glass she assumed. She took a mirror from the shelf and saw the bruised handprint around her neck, the dark scab of her previous bite to one side still. “This is getting worse” she sighed.
“Hell yeah.” He said. She turned and saw him pointing at her.
“What?” she said apprehensive.
“Your… your back.” He murmured.
She took the mirror and used it alongside a large one leaning against the wall to study her back. She almost screamed when she saw through her camisole the large, black griffin and the letter A tattooed on her shoulder…
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