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?
Chapter:
11. Broken Promises
Notes:
Sorry this is
a short chapter. Trying to give my wonder beta reader, PaganBaby, a
little time to catch up with my posting schedule.
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 justloves:
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
If you'd like to get notified of updates, email me here:
Updates