Story Title: Spirit Indestructible


Season 5. Begins with ‘Spiral’ in the abandoned gas station, and goes far off-canon almost immediately.

When Dawn makes the ultimate sacrifice to save her sister, friends, and the world, Buffy’s mind snaps. When Buffy's friends give up hope of her ever recovering, and become afraid that she’ll turn violent and uncontrollable, they call in the Council to help. Fearing what the Council will do, Spike, forgotten and ignored by her friends, steps in. Will he be able to reach the Slayer when no one else could? Will he be able to keep her out of the hands of the Council and away from her ‘helpful’ friends? How much heartbreak, guilt, and failure can one girl stand before her indestructible spirit finally resigns the fight and gives up hope?




11. Broken Promises


Sorry this is a short chapter. Trying to give my wonder beta reader, PaganBaby, a little time to catch up with my posting schedule.

Music Referenced:

Broken Promises, Survivor

Nelly Furtado - Spirit Indestructible


ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:



Thanks to YOU for reading and to Paganbaby for taking time out of her hectic life to beta this for me! Her suggestions and commentary that always makes me smile! All mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling right up to the last moment.

Rating / Warnings:

NC17. Spike/Other. Main Character Death. Implied Rape. Plenty of angst.

Content is only suitable for mature adults. Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.

Three days later…


“Ok,” Buffy began as she sat cross-legged on the bed across from her eager student. “When a random bad guy asks you who you are, tell them: ‘I’m your worst nightmare.’ Or, you can say, ‘I’m the Slayer, and you are history.’ Then there’s the classic, ‘I’m the thing that monsters have nightmares about.’


“Another thing you can do, when they go all ‘grr-arrgh’ on ya is to act all damsel-y and scared, and say, ‘Oooo … scary! I'll tell you something though: there are a lot scarier things than you. And I'm one of them.’”


The Bot nodded attentively, carefully indexing and storing away the retorts so she could quickly access them at the appropriate time in the future.


“When Spike calls you ‘Slayer’, call him ‘Slayee’ back … or ‘vampire’ works too – like that’s his name. But don’t call him ‘vampire’ if you’re out in public – it might draw too much attention from other people. ‘Dead-man walking’ works too and … ummm. Oh! He just loves: Captain Peroxide, bleach brain, and blood breath. I’d add Evil Dead to the list, but I think he actually likes that one too much.”


Buffy paused for a breath, thinking about what other nuggets of wisdom she should impart on her twin while the Bot waited patiently, filing it all away.


“Ok,” Buffy continued after a few moments, “when he makes one of his crude, lewd remarks, tell him that he’s a pig, like this: ‘Spike, you are such a pig’. You can have your hands on your hips for that or your arms crossed … either way works. But be sure to get the sneer in there on ‘such’.”


The Bot nodded as she sat on the giant bed facing Buffy, mirroring her in every way. “Spike, you are such a pig,” she repeated, then looked at Buffy for approval, her green eyes eager.


“Perfect,” Buffy confirmed. “Oh! And if he does something really clumsy and makes a lot of noise, just say, ‘stealthy.’ Let it kinda drip off your tongue … and roll your eyes with it. Of course, there’s the all time classic line of: ‘Do they call you Grace for short?’ if he, like, stumbles or something.”


“Spike would never stumble. He is graceful, agile, nimble, and lissom,” BuffyBot contended. “But I can file it for use with other bad guys.”


Buffy snorted. “You’ve never seen him drunk. He’s a stumble-palooza.


“Ok, let’s see …” Buffy mused a moment, looking up at the ceiling as she thought. “Ummm … when he does that thing with his tongue … you know, he, like, curls it over his teeth and gives you that really sexy … I mean … that totally inappropriate leer, then you should…”


“Oh!” BuffyBot interrupted her. “I know this one!


“I should press my body against his, wrapping one leg around his to keep him from escaping. Then capture his face with my hands and suck his tongue into my mouth. When his arms wrap around my back, I should moan against his lips and shift my hips so they press against his impressively hard penis,” the Bot explained, clearly proud of knowing the answer before Buffy could tell her.


“What? No!” Buffy exclaimed. “That’s totally not …” Buffy dropped her face into her hands and shook her head in dismay.


The Bot’s bottom lip stuck out in a forlorn pout. “I am very certain of this response. I have observed this behavior several times over the last few days. Every time the Slayee flicks his tongue at the Other Slayer, she captures him thus and rubs her body against his.


“This has been recorded in my ‘Learned Responses’ file. I have many of these. For example, it is not considered appropriate to pick up money from empty tables at restaurants or bars. Those are called ‘tips’ and they are meant for the servers who work in the establishment. You should also be observant of the signs on restroom doors. While entering the room reserved for males can be quite fascinating, it is sometimes met with high levels of agitation or sexual innuendo from the occupants standing at the urinals.


“Did you know that the penises of males vary in size considerably? Spike’s is quite impressive, isn’t it?”


“Uhhh … yeah … it is,” Buffy agreed, her face flushing slightly. Buffy thought she would’ve been over the embarrassment of such remarks by now, but it never seemed to quite go away. Spike always said it was ‘cute’ – he seemed to take some twisted delight in making her blush. The Bot never actually seemed to notice.


“Wow! Look at the time!” Buffy deflected, ending the lesson as she moved to the edge of the bed and stood up. “Spike should’ve been back by now. I think I’ll just … go look for him. Why don’t you stay here, okay?”


“Okay,” the Bot agreed amiably.


“I shouldn’t be long, you can watch TV,” Buffy offered as she headed for the door of their hotel room.


“I wonder if ‘Passions’ is on?” the Bot mused as she reached for the remote control.


Buffy rolled her eyes as she closed the room door behind her, double-checking that her keycard was in her pocket just before it locked. Buffy leaned her back against the door a moment and sighed. Having the Bot as a BFF was definitely … different. She missed her friends, missed girl-talk with Willow – oh, man, did she have some stories for her! – she missed Giles … and she missed Dawn. God, she actually missed Dawn. As annoying as her sister was, she was still her sister in some twisted, magical way, and she’d loved…


Buffy realized her mistake the moment the thought floated through her mind. Dawn. God, Dawn! She failed Dawn. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as she felt the old, familiar weight of guilt begin to press down on her. It didn’t happen often – not like it had – and it wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been, but once in a while, it still snuck up on her and reared its ugly head. She could smell the blood, feel the slick-stickiness coating her hands, hear that horrible gurgling that had come from Dawn’s severed throat, and she could see it. Oh, how she could see it – coating everything in hot, scarlet gore.


“No, no, no. You have to be strong for the baby … for Dawn. Focus, Buffy … focus,” she admonished herself as she stood in the hallway.


As Buffy focused on her anchor, on the smoldering blue of Spike's eyes, in order to quell the rising river of guilt, she felt tears well behind her closed lids. A sharp pain stabbed the center of her chest as a new guilt, a new anxiety was added to the old one. She should be leaving today. Last night she’d assured herself that she would definitely leave Las Vegas today. Of course, she’d assured herself of that every night for the past three nights, ever since the first night the Bot had shared their bed.


Spike would notice soon that she’d missed her period and the questions would start. Questions she didn’t want to answer. Then he’d know she’d deceived him, used him, and she wouldn’t be able to bear his rejection. He didn’t want a baby – he didn’t want that kind of responsibility. A kid would only tie him down, ruin his street creds, and when he found out she’d used him, it would royally piss him off. She couldn’t bear having him look at her with disgust and revulsion; she couldn’t take having one more man she loved toss her away like garbage. She needed to take the initiative and leave before he got the chance to drive that knife into her heart. Everything was in place. She just had to force her feet to take that first, giant step.


“I'm doing it, Mom. I’m working the mission. I'm trying to make things right for Dawn. This is for Dawn,” Buffy reminded herself as she fought back all the guilt – old and new – resolutely pushing it down.


And then, if Spike's reaction might not be enough incentive for her feet to overpower her inertia and take the leap, she kept adding other reasons to leave to the list. On deck behind the 'rejection' batter was: What if Spike's chip stopped working? What kind of danger would he pose to a helpless child if that happened? Buffy could take care of herself, but what if William the Bloody turned on his ‘family’ – a family that he didn’t ask for or want in the first place? Buffy shuddered to think of it. She couldn’t take the chance, she told herself resolutely. She couldn’t let Dawn down again.


And anyway, she continued to reason with herself, still trying to make her feet take that first step which they seemed incapable of, Spike wouldn’t want a big, fat, supremely hormone-charged, Prego-Buffy. He might be able to handle Barmy-Buffy, but Prego-Buffy would be more than even Spike could – or would – contend with, she told herself. And, as much as she missed her friends, she could never go back to Sunnydale, either. No, when she did it, she’d have to go somewhere that he couldn’t find her – ever. Thus the bus ticket to New York. She could get utterly lost in the mass of humanity there. It was the only way.


“Tomorrow,” Buffy promised herself, taking a deep, calming breath. “Definitely tomorrow.”


Buffy took in a few more deep breaths, letting each one out slowly through her mouth. She concentrated on her anchor: a vision she held in her mind of Spike’s eyes. Their blue depths were a comfort. In their most intimate moments, a rich cascade of azure love pouring over her. It was like a balm to her heart; even the golden flashes from the demon helped her push the flood of bloodied-guilt back by lending her strength and courage.


She felt the river of blood slowly begin receding back into her nightmares and away from her conscious mind as she focused on remembering every detail, every nuance, every spark of amber, every shade of blue, and fleck of color in his azure eyes. She may not be able to sleep more than an hour at a time with that guilt trapped there, but at least she could function, more-or-less like a normal human being, when she was awake. As long as she could keep that blood-stained shroud hidden in the dark recesses of her mind where her worst fears and nightmares lived, then she could handle the mission her mother had set out for her: save Dawn’s soul from Limbo by having and raising Spike’s baby.


Buffy took one more deep breath and opened her eyes as she pushed off the door and headed for the elevator, the blood-shroud once again under control. Spike really should’ve been up from the casino by now. He must be on quite a winning streak to be staying so late.




Buffy got off the elevator and headed for the blackjack table she knew Spike frequented. After practicing getting focusy the last couple of weeks, she’d gotten pretty good at keeping the crazy away, and was actually feeling a little playful by the time she got downstairs. The guilt over failing Dawn was never too far below the surface, but she’d managed to push it down far enough to allow herself to actually feel happy, at least for short periods of time.  And right now was one of those times. She decided she’d sneak up behind Spike and surprise him with a nice earlobe nibble. Her body tingled just thinking about how he’d repay her back in their room, and a shiver ran down her spine as she walked.


She didn’t see him, though, as she approached his normal table. Buffy frowned and looked at the neighboring tables – nope. There weren’t that many people in the casino at this time of the morning, he couldn’t be that hard to find. She scanned the floor, searching with her eyes until she finally spotted the unmistakable platinum.


What’s he doing over there? she wondered idly as she began walking toward the far wall where he was standing with his back to her and the room at large. As she got closer another thought came to her mind, less idle this time, And who is he doing it with?


Buffy’s good mood soured and curdled when she saw him standing with a woman. The woman’s hands were around his waist, holding him to her tightly – not an inch of space separated them from head to mid-thigh. He had the woman’s back pressed against the wall, his head dipped down as if he were kissing her or nibbling at her neck … or feeding. All the tables in the area around the pair were closed in the early morning lull. There wasn’t anyone else near them – a nice private corner, perfect for killing someone.


A thousand horrible thoughts stampeded through Buffy’s mind at once. Had the chip failed? How long had he been feeding on humans? How could she not have known? How could she be so naïve – still – about vampires? How many times would she have to learn this same lesson? She was going to have to stake him now. Her heart ached at the thought, but how could she not? Maybe he wasn’t feeding, maybe he was just kissing her. That prospect didn’t make her feel much better.


Buffy’s hands curled into fists as fear and rage battled with hurt, and jealously fought with wounded pride to see which emotion would surface above the rest. The Slayer stormed across the nearly-empty floor of the casino, dodging around the games of chance in a bee-line for Spike. As she walked past an empty craps table, she snagged the long, wooden stick they used to push the dice to the shooter. She broke it in two and tucked half of it in the waistband of her pants at her back, keeping the other half in her clenched fist.


Buffy didn’t even realize that tears had blurred her vision until she bumped into a chair and nearly stumbled. How could he? How could he do this to her after all he’d promised? How could he do this after she let herself love him? Buffy blinked her eyes furiously as she kept walking, steeling herself for what had to be done if the chip had stopped working. Part of her almost hoped that was what it was – she wasn’t sure if she could take it if he were simply screwing around on her and the Bot. Feeding she could blame on the soulless demon; screwing around was all on the man that she’d let into her heart.


The fact that just moments before she had been assuring herself that tomorrow she would be leaving him never even entered her mind as she made her way across the floor to her lover’s side. All she could feel was the betrayal of his lies, forgetting that she had lied to him, as well. By the time she reached Spike, she was little more than a simmering cauldron of jumbled, overflowing emotion.


“What the fuck!?” Buffy demanded as she reached the pair, fury in her voice. Buffy grabbed Spike’s shoulder when she spoke and jerked him away from the woman angrily, spinning him around at the same time.


“Buffy,” she heard him say, but it wasn’t the surprised, angry, or indignant tone she'd expected. It was slurred, almost as if he were drunk – which, hey, maybe he was.


“Trap,” was the second word that tumbled from his lips as he fell limply onto the carpeted floor of the casino when the woman released him. His eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed like a lump of wet noodles, arms and legs akimbo.









Broken Promises, Survivor




Summer and smoke, diamonds and dust
Go where you will, do what you must
The promise was made your word was enough
We had dreams, visions and plans
Into the night, out of our hands
Letting our passion fulfill our demands
I remember those songs on the radio
The jasmine, the wind in your hair
Does it seem like so long ago

Broken promises
Is it written in stone that we wind up alone
Whoa-oh, broken promises
And a heart that recalls
When the promise was all that we had

Into the dust, reckless we rode
Secret desire, talking in code
Bittersweet madness, the stories unfold
I remember those songs on the radio
The jasmine, the wind in your hair
And how it hurts to remember those

Broken promises
Is it written in stone that we wind up alone
Whoa-oh, broken promises
Can your heart still recall
When the promise was all that we had

Broken promises
Is it written in stone that we wind up alone
Broken promises
Can your heart still recall
When the promise was all that we had

Broken promises
Is it written in stone that we wind up alone
Whoa-oh broken promises
Can your heart still recall
When the promise was all that we had

Broken promises
Is it written in stone that we wind up alone
Broken promises
Can your heart still recall
When the promise was all that we had


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