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SUMMARY: Buffy is forced into a prophecy involving Spike. Can they both survive it?
DIST/ARCHIVE: Ask first
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Spike, and co. don't belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This version has been toned down from it's original NC-17 version for the purpose of posting it on this site. However, it still uses bad language and mature subjects and so is rated PG-15, please read at your own discretion.
"You jackass!"
Buffy stormed into the house, not caring as to the amount of noise she made in the vampire's lair. She had found the closer she got to her destination, the less pain she was in, until it disappeared completely at the door.
Spike's eyes popped open at the intrusion, his face shifting to its demonic planes. The sleep that normally claimed him had been painful and uncomfortable, so he was unconsciously overprotecting himself from an attack. Growling, he launched himself at the Slayer, and they both went to the ground. He tried to go in for the kill, but Buffy threw him of her and into one of the dressers.
"Spike, wake up!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet. She locked the bedroom door to prevent any intrusion, then stomped over to the vamp. She kicked him in the ribs. "Get up!"
His hand shot out and grabbed her ankle, knocking Buffy to the floor. He quickly covered her body with his, pinning her arms to the ground, his yellow eyes glowing.
"Spike, wake up," Buffy ground out, wiggling underneath him.
Spike blinked once, focusing on the blond beneath him. "Slayer?"
"Duh," she answered.
Spike let the human mask drop over his features and his confused blue eyes met her furious gray. "What are you doing here?"
"Get off me and I'll tell you," Buffy spat. He did as requested and watched as she stood and retrieved the paper she had dropped, shoving it at him. "Read this."
He shot her another puzzled glance, then accepted the paper. Dropping his eyes, he quickly scanned the copy. "Fuck."
"That about sums it up," she said sarcastically.
This time, his eyes reflected anger as he jerkily made his way to the dresser and pulled out a shirt and a clean pair of pants. "Don't go anywhere," he told her, unlocking the bedroom door.
"In case you hadn't noticed, I can't," she snapped.
Spike strode down the hall and into the bathroom. Slamming the door, he threw his clean clothes on the never used toilet and stripped. Turning the water on cold, he stepped under the stinging nettles, letting it wash away the remains of his tumulus sleep and anger at what he had read.
"Bloody hell," he swore, bracing his hands against the wall, head down. The freezing water coursed over his body, hitting his neck with its powerful spray. Finally gaining control of his raging demon, he shut off the shower, toweled off and dressed in his clean clothes.
He returned to the bedroom and found the Slayer standing by the heavily curtained window, looking out into the backyard. He avoided the sun entering around her and sat on the edge of the bed. He waited for her to make the first move.
"Spike, come here," Buffy said, not facing him. When she didn't hear him move, she spun and stomped over to him, snatching his arm and dragging him towards the unshielded window.
"Slayer, stop!" Spike said, trying to jerk from her grasp. But it was too late. He was standing partially in a shaft of sunlight. With a yell, he jumped back into the shadows. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?!"
"For the first time since I've been the Slayer, I was able to interpret a prophecy by myself," she said, her voice barely audible. She laughed hollowly. "And this one says I'm going to die. Again."
"What are you going on about?"
She turned her face to him and sighed, her anger forgotten replaced with depression and finality. "You can come into the light, Spike. It won't hurt you."
Spike frowned at her, not sure of her game. She held out her hand, palm up in the sunlight, waiting. Tentatively, braced to pull back at the slightest hint of pain, he let his hand enter the stream of sunlight and take her hand.
Nothing happened.
Emboldened and curious, he stood and cautiously stepped into the shaft of light next to the Slayer. It didn't burn him, didn't reduce him to a pile of ash, did nothing that the rays of light should have done. He looked into Buffy's upturned face.
"Told you," she said, smirking at him. Then her expression changed to depression as she thought of the prophecy. "Strengths will be given, weakness taken away, allowing the darkness into the day," she quoted. Her eyes filled with tears again. "I hoped it wasn't true."
Spike, however, was not upset with the recent twist of events. Standing in the sun for the first time in centuries was making him giddy. He started to laugh, holding his arms out and examining them in the daylight.
"I'm glad someone is amused," Buffy said.
He shot her a cheeky grin, then grabbed her hand again. "Come on," he said, dragging her out the door, down the hall and to the kitchen. He stopped there and stood uncertainly in front of the kitchen door. Taking an unneeded breath, Spike opened the door and stepped over the threshold into the bright morning sky, pulling Buffy with him.
Spike closed his eyes to the bright light, raising his face to the sun. It warmed his skin, caressing his face with its rays. He smiled, completely and utterly happy, then wrapped his arms around the Slayer, spinning her in circles.
If she wasn't depressed, Buffy would have found Spike's actions amusing. However, it was all she could do not to ruin his 'moment in the sun' by killing him. But that would end her life, too.
And she was not ready to die.
Again.
Spike fell back onto the ground, Buffy still in his arms cradling her descent. He smiled up at her and planted a hard kiss on her lips, then let her fall to his side. He looked up at the few white clouds that moved in the blue sky. "Hey, you really can see shapes in the clouds."
Buffy chuckled at his statement, and before long it had turned into a full-blown laugh that was on the edge of hysteria. When she managed to calm down, she closed her eyes and let the suns healing rays fall down on her.
They lay like that for almost an hour as the sun continued to rise in the sky. Eventually, the peace they had both discovered was interrupted by Buffy's stomach growling loudly.
Spike turned his head and arched an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"That was my cue to leave," she told him. "However, seeing as I don't want to spend the afternoon in pain, you're coming with me."
"I'm what?"
"Coming. With. Me," she said slowly. "Did the sun melt what little brains you had?"
He scowled at her, refusing to rise to the bait. "Why should I?"
"Fine," Buffy said, standing. "I'll be in front of the school waiting for you to show up."
"Not bloody likely," he scoffed.
"Just wait," she said. "You'll be at my side before you know it." With that, she turned and left the yard, retracing her route for the second time that day.
The pain was dull at first, sort of a mild cramp. But as her walk progressed, it became sharper and sharper until she was once again hunched over. At the steps to the school, she sat, arms held tightly around her waist and resting her head on her knees.
*****
Spike swore as he ran down the street, wincing in pain with each step. The Slayer had been right when she'd said he would come to her. He had no choice. Luckily, the closer he got to his destination, the less he hurt.
He saw her sitting on the steps and slowed, the pain almost entirely gone. She raised her head and shot him a look that said 'I told you so.' Somewhat dejected that his first day in the sun was spoiled, he made his way to her. "You are a bloody pain, did you know that?"
Buffy snickered and shook her head, glad that the pain had abated. She stood and brushed off the back of her skirt, then tugged the borrowed black shirt down. With a sigh at her appearance, she turned to the doors. "Coming?"
Spike only glared at her as they entered the school.
Walking through the empty halls brought back memories of the night he'd attacked the Slayer and met up with his sire. He could see students sitting in the classrooms as they went by and wondered what they thought of the fact they lived on a Hellmouth. His introspection was halted by a small, large eared man.
"And where are we going, Ms. Summers?" Principal Snyder said, stopping in front of the duo.
"I'm showing Spike here where the library is," Buffy answered quickly. "The teacher asked me to do it, seeing as he was going to be a new student."
"Really?" Snyder asked with false belief. "Then how come I haven't heard of him?"
"I'm standing right here, mate," Spikes said, anger tingeing his voice. Buffy elbowed him in the ribs.
"He just moved here, from Brazil," Buffy told the man. "His transfer papers should be here tomorrow, right Spike?"
"Err…right, Slayer," Spike answered. She elbowed him again.
Snyder looked them both up and down, then nodded. "Very well. I expect you to return to class directly after you show him to the library. And I will have the pleasure of reading all about you," he said to Spike. "Tomorrow."
Snyder walked off and Buffy sighed. "I really hate that man."
"Why don't you just kill him, pet?" Spike asked as they continued to the library.
"Contrary to popular belief, I only slay the bad guys," she answered. They arrived at the swinging doors and she paused, gathering her wits. "Ready to face the music?"
"As long as it's not that country crap, I'm game," he replied, giving her a wry grin.
Buffy sighed and opened the library doors, not even close to being ready to face her fate.
