Chapter Five - Touchy
"I'll be a vampire?" The quiet question was heavily outlined by panic. The look of shock and dismay on everyone's faces expressed, all too well, the badness of the situation. And yet...Spike couldn't help but wonder, what it might be like if Buffy was a vampire. It opened up such possibilities. A new life for them, an unlife at least, without the distinction of age, something that would surely tear them apart. Seeing the horror and panic on her face, however, made him banish all thoughts of a vampire Vampire Slayer, including the new ones laced with hurt, that made him question her acceptance of his own fanginess.
"Not if I can help it, luv." She squeezed his hand, thankful for his support. She too, had fleeting thoughts of his reaction to the possibility of her finding vampirehood.
"That's why we have to get them corporeal again. And fast."
A sudden memory of a recent event sparked in Buffy's mind. "At the party. Spike and I had an...argument. He attacked this guy."
"By attacked you mean tried to hit and failed."
"That's just it. He hit him. I completely forgot about it, what with the big scary Lorne and all. The same thing happened with Dawn, when she first came. I could feel her, just for a second."
"It was like an electric shock," her sister confirmed.
Wesley looked thoughtful, the expression on his face reminiscent of a different man, a young confident Watcher of what felt long ago. "Did you feel anything different? Anything that might have triggered the momentary contact."
"I know I wanted to hit that wanker. I wanted to kill him. Not that I would have," Spike added hastily.
"Want. It's about desire." Angel's voice was low, and Spike wondered if he saw his grandsire's gaze pass over the woman at his side. Better not have. "Spike wanted to hit that guy. Buffy wanted to hug Dawn. They have to want it. Really want it."
"So if I really wanted to kick you right now, I could do it?" Angel was about to grace Spike with his usual glare, until he caught sight of the teasing smile on his face. He's let it slide. Just this once.
Meanwhile, Buffy was already trying out Angel's theory, trying to poke Dawn. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she repeatedly poked her sister, each time her finger passing through. Finally, after a few minutes of fruitless attempts, a small flash was seen, and Dawn jumped a little from the contact.
"I did it!"
Upon trying it again, however, her finger passed through once again. "Oh."
Fred, who had been watching the proceedings interestedly, spoke up, "We'll need a way to harness this ability, make it permanent." She sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "I can start tonight."
Willow jumped up as well, "I'll help, you know, magic stuff. And I used to be pretty good with the science stuff too, if I remember correctly." Flashing them all a smile, she and Fred made their way to the elevator, already deep in conversation about one theory or another.
********
The changes had gotten worse. Buffy had changed again, and again, wearing the vampire visage as much as she wore her own human face. Even worse, she had developed a strong taste for black leather, and could be heard screaming British obscenities down the halls when she got mad. Angel had secretly feared Spike would be pleased by the changes, the woman he loved turning into a vampire, to be of his kind. His fears went unnoticed and unnecessary. Spike didn't like the changes anymore than anyone else.
He didn't want her to be like this. He loved her all the same, but to see her changing, against her will, to a creature of the darkness? It wasn't supposed to be like that. She was supposed to be his bright angel, he was supposed to be the one damned to the darkness. Not like this.
It was thoughts like these that he caught himself thinking. Did he really fear her transition to the darkness? It was not too long ago, his whispered words echoed in his mind, "You belong in the darkness...with me." Didn't he believe that? He wasn't too sure anymore. Perhaps...perhaps her soul was spilling into his, the way his mingled with hers. As much as he loved her, he had quite enough soul for one vamp, he thought. Quite enough.
********
It was three weeks before Willow found the spell. Well, wrote it more than found it. His angled face was half in shadow, the lines flickering with the candlelight. His hand clasped hers tightly, and she closed her eyes, letting Willow's instructions take hold. "Concentrate. Want. Desire. You want. You desire it. Concentrate. Want. Desire." On and on, until she felt she could want nothing more. To touch. To hold. Faith's mantra found it's way into her mind. Want. Take. Have. The rogue Slayer knew more than she thought. Satisfied, Willow's voice began to roll over them in thick waves of magick.
"manes de corpus ego auscultant
vos qui transint per vanus semita
ego auscultant
manes de duo vetus mortuus
liberant eorum manes v
os non iam tenent meus carmen
suus ingenium exponent
ego vos e eorum manes iacet
ego eorum corpus sanat
ego vos e eorum manes iacet
ego eorum corpus sanat
vita ad eorum
ego tribuat vita ad eorum
ego tribuat"
As the last syllables tumbled from her mouth, a glowing light came from her upturned hands, hovering there for a moment before exploding, washing away into the bodies of Buffy and Spike. The force of the magic threw them backwards, their bodies lying flat out, their hands clasped. Rushing to their side, Dawn and Willow made a tentative attempt to hold Buffy's body upright. It worked. Dawn's arms were instantly around her sister, hugging her tightly, while pulling her upwards. Angel, busy helping Willow up, who looked exhausted, smiled, for the first time since Spike and Buffy had arrived. Really smiled.
Dawn glanced down at the other body on the floor. Spike. He lay there, unattended and forgotten. Handing over her precious cargo to Wesley and Gunn, she knelt by the body of the man she considered her brother. Carefully propping up the unmoving body, she was surprised to have the body hoisted up a little roughly, arm slung over taller shoulders. Angel. She allowed him to help carry Spike to the elevator, and as the doors closed, she spoke to him,"I still don't like you. But thank you."
The doors closed with a final chime.
********
Being corporeal was a nice thing. Definitely nice. Being able to use a phone, eat, pick something up, hug your friends. Nice.
They were leaving, finally. Leaving the city for Cleveland, the new hellmouth. Where fights were plentiful and apocalypses probably in the making. Back to the fight, if not the one his demon implored him to turn to. Still, bloodshed was bloodshed. Even if it wasn't human. Even if it was blue. Like the blood that stained the pristine lobby of Wolfram and Hart, L.A. He watched as the minor employees carried the bodies off to disposal, a little disappointed that he had missed what looked to have been one hell of a fight. But then, the Slayer would demand him for her own purposes....
It was time. Time to leave what had been her home for the past few months. The only one left really, now that Sunnydale was a pleasant little crater in the middle of nowhere. Tiredness hit her, unexpectedly and rapidly. I'll just lie down for a little. Just a minute. Spike'll understand.
********
Angry yells echoed through the long halls of Wolfram and Hart. The calls became anguished, desperately calling for Willow, Fred, anyone. Angel. They heard. Rushing to the sound of the voice, the scene they found was one both unreal and terrifying. In Spike's arms lay a motionless Buffy. Her head was cradled to his chest, her eyes closed in what appeared to be sleep. Angel could hear the difference though. Her breaths were coming slowly, irregularly. Not enough. They crowded around, desperately trying to wake her. The agonized vampire rushed, an entourage now following closely, to the medic's offices.
********
The steady beeping was the only sound in the room. The little blonde in the narrow bed was pale, too thin and grey looking. Her friends and sister had long since retired to bed, her only companion was the stone-like vampire at her bedside. The larger man hovered in the doorway, silent.
"Do they know what it is?" Spike's gaze never left the still girl in the bed, his voice cracking just slightly in anticipation of the answer.
"Willow's been talking to our mystical group. They think it has to do with the spell they did when Sunnydale, you know. Because she's a slayer. Because they made all the others slayers."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Silence took their conversation. "How's she doing?"
"She'll be fine," and Angel couldn't tell who Spike was trying to convince, "She's strong. She'll pull through, she always does. Slayer she is, all strong and confident. Always thinking they can do it all, by themselves."
"They're like that."
"This one's different. She's got me." His finger gently brushed her cheek, circled the closed lids, "She'll always have me."
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