Family of Eternity

Michelle - thank you so much for your reviews.


Chapter 3

Spike stood on a lonely hill. Stretched out across the landscape were bodies. Hundreds upon thousands of corpses. He took a purposeful deep breath and smirked slightly. < Nothing like the smell of the dead first thing in the morning>. In spite of his inability to harm with the chip in his head it didn’t change his nature. He was a remorseless killer.

The sky was clear and bright but there was no sunlight. Just a great expanse of blue and a sea of victims. He frowned slightly, thinking that this couldn’t be right. Then his mind calmed that, yes, this was real. Strolling down the hill with a shrug he came to the first body. As he neared the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Something still wasn’t right but he couldn’t place it. As he spied the upturned face, his heart wrenched.

It was her. Blond hair, sun-kissed skin, lifeless green eyes staring at him accusingly. He felt sick. For the first time in more than a century of bloodshed he felt physically ill at the thought that she was dead. Looking over her carefully, he noticed the jagged bite marks in her throat. They looked so much like something he’d do. He turned suddenly, bending in half and really getting sick, throwing up what blood had been in his stomach. It was even more rancid than the smells surrounding him now were. Then his mind flashed back to the kill that he’d committed. To her struggles slowing as he drained the life out of her. To the now permanent look on her face as her heart stopped. Joyce was going to kill him.

The Slayer’s dead flesh animated suddenly, blood covered mouth curving into a smirk, “Remorseless my ass!”
His head jerked away, unknown tears pouring down his face. Blinking rapidly as he turned, he was greeted with another body, this one with bright red hair. Willow. Again the same jagged markings that could only be his work. She moved just as her dead friend, “I thought you wanted us dead, Spikey.” Frantically, his eyes searched, finding another and another. < It’s them. All the bloody Scoobies...what the fu–>

Spike’s eyes shot open. He lay on the sofa, Joyce not far away, looking on in concern. He opened his mouth to speak when the front door was kicked in and Initiative soldiers poured in. Riley stood in the lead, syringe in one hand and scalpel in the other, “It’s time to go back Hostile 17.”

Trying to jump up and away, he found himself tied down to a stretcher, helpless. Spike screamed in uncontrolled fear as Riley broke Joyce’s neck before reaching for him, “NO!!!”. He struggled with everything in him, scrambling like a hog-tied animal, even though he knew it was pointless. Off to one side he could see the Slayer torn between helping the helpless or her lover. She shrugged and walked away, leaving Spike behind. He cried out, a plea on the tip of his tongue. Riley grabbed a hold of his neck, stabbing him in the shoulder with the needle.

Spike kicked himself into a sitting position before realizing he wasn’t on a sofa or a stretcher but in a soft bed. < Just a dream...only a dream...unless this isn’t real either.> The hairs on his neck stood up again as fear engulfed him. He could still be asleep, or maybe he was already captured by the Initiative and these were the experiments he had heard about. Maybe he was dead and this was Hell. His whole body shook, tears welling up in his eyes but he squashed them. In the confines of his crypt was the only place he could afford to let his emotions break through.

His stomach churned and he fought with himself. A sudden surge of bile had him turning, vomiting into a trash bin. Behind his closed eyes he could still see the bodies, still taste the blood and it sent his head back down. At last he put the can down, exhausted and queasy.

He could hear hushed voices near. Coming up the stairs if his hearing was accurate. Joyce and Buffy Summers, the Slayer, talking quietly. < Oh God, she’s still alive!> With the way that the Slayer was expressing she’d be yelling soon. Pulling the covers up a little higher, he shivered as an irrational feeling of terror swept through him. He tried to swallow but coughed instead, his throat raw. The women quickly cut off their conversation and entered the room. Buffy stayed at the foot of the bed, arms folded to look imposing.
She did look rather convincing and he rolled shakily out of bed and bolted. It was ridiculous to his logic that he would fear her when he knew she wouldn’t hurt him. Everything he had once believed was askew and his emotions were running rampant. After all, this could just be a dream, “Spike!”

He didn’t even make it to the top of the stairs when he was caught by Buffy, “God, you are such a pain-...” He spun around, fist connecting with her nose a second before pain exploded in his head from the chip. With a cry he dropped to his knees and bared his throat, instantly retreating to meek. Nor did he have the strength to fight her as she led him sternly back to the bed and sat him down. It didn’t stop him from trying, scooting away from her touch as quickly as he could manage, backpedaling to the top of the bed and as far away as possible, “Mom...”

Buffy was pointing to the cup on the desk, other hand rubbing her sore nose and glaring. Joyce took it with a sigh and carefully approached, lowering it under Spike’s nose. He vamped in response from his demon’s hunger but made no motion to drink. Then that queasy feeling started again, “Come on, sweety, this will make you feel better.” Turning away with a grimace, he curled up on his side and closed his eyes.

Joyce frowned in confusion. Reaching out with her hand, the instant she touched him he jerked away, yelping. His body curled tighter into a ball, trying to hide the trembling that had started again. Buffy was thrown by this and let her arm slip down to her side. She had known the arrogant vampire for a while and had never seen him turn down a free meal. Then her memory locked in on the way he bared his throat to her and it slammed into her like a two-by-four to the gut. The dream, “Mom, wait a sec.” Overriding her slayer instincts and her temporary anger, she came to the other side of the bed to gently move his head back. He jerked away from her just as quickly, hands up to ward her off as his legs uncurled from his chest a little. That’s when she noticed the marks on his neck. Hell, they weren’t marks, they were jagged punctures in his skin.

Buffy glanced at her mother before sitting on the bed. Ignoring his warning growls , “Let me see.” She felt more than saw him shaking and her protective nature surged through her. It was just like her dream. It suddenly became very important that he not flinch from her, “I won’t hurt you, Spike. I promise. You know I don’t break my promises.” Taking a chance, she leaned against the headboard and used her fingers to gently examine the wounds. They certainly seemed painful and noticed him cringing every time she went to touch him, “Who did this to you?”

He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes. She got the feeling he didn’t even know. Nibbling the inside of her lip, she pet through his hair gently. The first touch startled him so bad he nearly leaped from the bed. Instead of saying anything further she softly shushed him and pulled him into her embrace. She didn’t know why, just that it felt right. He frowned just a bit, hearing this almost inaudible humming sound. Pressing near her the tiniest bit, he realized it was coming from her. From her chest actually, much as the hum of a mate would.
She pet him, patiently waiting for him to relax. < What did she say...Truce? Oh yeah...> It took a while but eventually he calmed down. Leaning her chin lightly against his temple, she glanced down at his shoulder.

Buffy kept waiting for his normal responses but received none. She expected him telling her to get off or a snide remark of some kind. Receiving nothing but fear and growls wasn’t what she expected, “Hey?” After a moment he reluctantly opened his eyes. The fear she saw in them floored her. Again it was just like the dream. Although so was the way she was holding him, though he certainly wasn’t complaining. After a moment he looked away, closing his eyes again and certain he was about to be ridiculed.

She took the cup in her right hand and brought it up, allowing a little to spill onto his lips. On reflex his tongue darted out to lick the red liquid away. It was what she was counting on. But what surprised her was the almost green color on his face that followed. He opened his eyes and glanced from the cup to the trash can by the bed.

She looked down, grimacing at the evidence of his earlier queasiness. Yuck. Glancing back at him, seeing the hunger and what she could only describe as guilt she tried to soothe him, “It’s no big, Spike. We’ll clean it up.” He nodded a little but resisted her every attempt to feed him. Frowning just a little, letting her normal attitude around him bleed through, “Drink or I’ll force it down you.”

He went from green to pale, jerking from her embrace and tumbling off the bed. He backed up into a corner, head down and arms ready to ward any attack away, “Buffy.”

She acknowledged her mother’s warning tone with a simple nod. First impulse to make him eat, second to slap some sense into him, she ignored them both and concentrated on how she’d want to be handled if she were like this. Licking her lips a little, forcing her tone to remain gentle and not grab him in a headlock, “Spike?”

She bit the inside of her lip, making herself wait for him. He was panting though he didn’t need to breathe, eyes flittering to her gaze before skittering away. < Bad vampires drink human blood...good ones drink pig...and like it.> He could remember promising to be good. That’s when the pain stopped. Maybe if he was good he wouldn’t hurt anymore, “Good...no more?” He couldn’t help the expression that flickered into view for half an instant before he forced himself to make a bit more sense, “Is...is it animal?”

She shrugged just a little, not getting why it was important and choosing not to address the look on his face. It was this almost desperate look to please and it made her sick. No one, not even Spike, should be this scared, “It’s just pig’s blood.” His body eased a little, relaxing and she took that as a cue to continue, “No one died for this. Promise.” For some strange reason he looked immensely relieved. Again that scared little boy look crossed his eyes and she wanting to strangle whatever hurt him. She again offered the mug and this time he gingerly accepted it from the floor. He started to drink greedily, quickly draining the cup, “Mom, is there more?”

“There’s more in the fridge.”

Buffy nodded distractedly as she watched Spike carefully put the cup aside. She slowly approached him, keeping her actions non-threatening and pulling him to his feet. He seemed to respond well to slow movements, soft voices, and gentle touches. She’d go with that for now. He was annoying as hell most of the time but she certainly preferred it to his current state. This whipped puppy thing was driving her crazy and making her furious at the same time. He let her steer him back to the bed and sit him back down. His eyes were now looking directly into her’s, the fear still hidden in the icy blue depths. She could barely detect the subtle amount of anger there, but it wasn’t directed at her, “Let’s see just how much we can get him to drink.”

Spike ignored the fact that she was talking about him in the third person like he wasn’t there. He was far too hungry to care what she said. As long as there was more blood. Forcing air into his lungs, he allowed her scent to wash over him. Distractedly he noticed she had started petting him again. It was alarming but it was also calming.

He finished off four more cups before he found himself too full for any more. Being like any typical vampire, he was sleepy after such a big meal. He yawned casually, his eyes drooping and sinking into the young slayer whose lap he was now in. Using her other hand, she put down the cup and watched in stunned silence as he licked the blood off the tips of her fingers. His hold on her wrist loosened as he surrendered to sleep. She had a curious expression on her face but said nothing. She waited until his body stilled and she was sure he was
asleep. Carefully rearranging him back under the covers, she picked up the cup and quietly left.