Shot in the Dark

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Chapter 45: A Choice
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Spike paces across the grass back and forth, as Clotho begins to speak. When she pauses, he interrupts. “So, let me get this straight...you had a plan for me. I’ve screwed it up. You’re right pissed. Does that about cover it?” Spike stops pacing and looks as ats at the seated figures, squinting in the unfamiliar sunlight.

No one speaks for a few seconds. Finally, Clotho sighs and answers. “That does not in the least cover it, vampire. The fates of the mortal world are complex. We weave lives together and pull them apart, choose their lengths, end them when appropriate. It is a delicate balance to keep the cloth strong and vital. You, as somewhat other than mortal, are not meant to move into that world in the way you have. You have disrupted the fabric in ways...unforeseen.”

Spike chuckles briefly, looking down. He glances up, meeting Clotho’s strangely unnerving gaze. Her eyes are nearly metallic. Coppery. “Like I said, I bollocksed up your plans.” He sees her jaw set and wonders when he will learn to stop talking.

She ignores him and continues. “You have forced us to become involved in events, to become visible. It is not our normal approach.” Clotho glances to either side at her companions. “I created the thread of your life. Your life as William. A human.”

The muscles in Spike’s jaw twitch as he remembers his first existence so many years ago. He wonders where they are going with this.

The figure to Clotho’s right moves her hood back, long dark hair falling to her shoulders. Lachesis speaks softly, surely. Her tone chills Spike. “I chose your lot in that life. Sent you down that alley years ago in despair. To find your human end in the arms of a vampire. One pro. S. She was insane, was Drusilla. She was meant to kill you.”

Spike freezes, looking at this stately woman and her matter of fact discussion of his death.

“We thought we had controlled your fate, but the lunatics of the world often unravel the fabric unexpectedly. And so, you lived. In a way. Clotho wove a new thread and we spliced it into the old. And I chose a new lot for you. One suited to an evil killer.” The temperature in the ring of fire is surprisingly cold. Spike realizes it is the voice of the goddess making it feel that way. “A killer of Slayers. A force of true evil. Your Chosen Fate. We found your tendencies as a vampire made you follow your fate easily.”

“Wait just a soddin’ minute. You’re telling me you made me kill those Slayers? You three?” Spike’s brow s ins in anger and confusion.

Clotho speaks again. Her voice lacks the sharp edges of her companions. “It is not easy to learn that the Fates exist, vampire. Few ever learn it and most wish they have not. We do not eliminate free will, but we steer. We create the path.”

Spike smiles a little. “Ah, I’m starting to see the problem here, luv.” The cockiness in his body begins to return. “Didn’t walk down the path just right, now did I?”

“Silence, fool.” Atropos spits the words out. “We are wasting our time here, sisters. He is insolent.”

“Well, yeah. But you ladies must have known that already, eh?” Spike lifts his eyebrows and waits for a reply.

“That is enough. As I was saying, you were meant to be a force against good. And until recently, you were following your path to perfection. You killed two Slayers and were sent on your way to a third.”

Spike, for once, stays quiet. He remembers how he wanted to taste Buffy’s blood a few years ago...and to think, he finally got the chance recently and it had nothing to do with killing her.

“But something changed. Something...” Clotho wrinkles her nose in disgust. “...not fated. You developed a fascination with this Slayer. Beyond the killing instinct. The insane one saw it well before you did. We kept waiting for you to kill the Slayer and fulfill your destiny, but you failed. Over and over. And the Slayer still lives. Her every action forces us to rework the fabric. She was meant to die. You were meant to kill this Slayer two years ago.”

Spike takes a deep breath and looks at each Fate in turn as he speaks, his fists clenched. “Her. Name. Is. Buffy.”

Lachesis sighs. “See, he loves her. Loves her! This was not written in his fate. I would not do such a thing. A vampire in love with a Slayer. It is beyond reason.”

Clotho puts up her hand in a calming gesture. “Excuse my sister, Spike. She is unused to her handiwork being ruined in such a way. We have existed for longer than human history and rarely are we faced with such difficulties. These feelings you’ve had for the Slayer were well-hidden until Cupid got involved. Stupid, foolish boy always playing games. We kept him from the usage of his ‘arrows of true love’ and it did not matter. Still you loved her and most unexpectedly, she returned your love. And so we come to this.”

“Are you birds getting anywhere near the point of this little rendezvous? I think I’m startin’ to freckle.” Spike shades his eyes as the sun washes over him.

Lachesis sighs again. “We should just let Atropos do her work.”

Atropos sits up, eager. Clotho waves her back into her seat. “No. As I’ve told you, that is not going to happen. He has become part of a prophecy. One we did not write. We must honor it. He must make his choice to fulfill the prophecy.”

Spike grimaces, glances over his shoulder at the flame that encircles him. No sign of Buffy or the others. Must be a mystical barrier. “Choose what? This chat is getting a bit old.”

* * *

Suddenly, the air crackles around the circle and Buffy’s head looks to the sky for a storm. It is clear and star-filled. Then, a voice rings out, coming from inside the circle. Xander starts to ask a question, but Buffy and Giles wave him quiet. They listen to the conversation that continues inside the circle. The crackle of the flames is silenced. Spike is unaware of any change.

* * *


“Though it goes against our very existence, you will be given...a choice. Your Fate will lie in your hands. Yours and the Slayer’s. There are two choices.”

“Alright, get to it.” Spike puts his hands on his hips, moving quickly from impatient to pissed.

“Your existence.” Lachesis speaks.

And then Atropos, “Or her life.”

Clotho locks eyes with Spike. “Choose.”

Spike stares into Clotho’s shimmering eyes, scowling. The veins in his neck stand out as every muscle in his body goes rigid. “There’d better be a third choice.”

Clotho speaks again. “There are two choices. You sacrifice yourself or she will be struck down. It is prophesized.” Atropos pulls out the shears, giving them a snap. “One of you must go to set the fabric right again. We will not continue this alternate reality, this constant re-weaving. You were meant to kill her. Either do it now by your choice or give our our own existence, instead.”

* * *

“No.” Buffy covers her mouth, horror written across her features, her skin gone deathly pale. “This can’t be.” Giles takes her by the shoulders, trying to control her trembling.

* * *

“How in hell will my dying set the bloody wheel spinning again?” Spike frowns at the three figures in turn, but their faces are blank. Suddenly, a light goes on in his head. “Now, wait just a goddamn minute. If I snuff it, you are just going to send another vamp to kill ‘er, aren’t you? Fix your damn fabric that way, eh?”

Clotho’s face goes stony, all softness erased. The fury emanating from the three goddesses tells Spike he has hit the nail on the head.

“These are your only choices. Choose wisely. The human who told you the prophecy did not interpret it correctly. To triumph as the prophecy describes, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. The humanity you protect from suffering is hers alone, the Slayer’s. If you fail to choose correctly, darkness will fall on that warrior, as the prophecy foretells. It is you or it is the Slayer. This ‘victory’ comes at a price.” She pauses and pulls the hood back up, shading her face. Her sisters do the same.

“Choose.” They speak simultaneously. Spike tries to fly toward them in a rage, but an unseen force throws him back.

“NO!” Spike falls to his knees, grief buckling them. Tears streaming down his face, he looks up at them, whispers his reply. “Do it, then. Take me. Just...just save her.” His voice goes hard and cold, flinty in the unnatural sunshine. His clear blue eyes flash with hatred and sorrow as tears fall unchecked. “But I swear by all that is holy and unholy, if you harm her, I will crawl up from the deepest circle of hell and find you. I love her more than I knew I could love and if a hair on her head is so much as singed, I will avenge it. I will rip your bloody fabric to shreds. And for the last fucking time, her name is BUFFY!” As the last word falls from his lips, Spike’s body goes rigid in pain. The three Fates stand and lift their arms in his direction.

And he screams.


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Author’s Note: I know, yipes! But, rest assured, there will be more to the story, so just hang in there. Reviews are like candy for my sweet tooth! gimme! (Please?) Oh, and I am starting a fic updates e-mail list. If you are interested in hearing when I post new chapters to my fics (or start new ones), please send an e-mail to: tiana_updates@hotmail.com. (There is a _ between tiana and updates in that address.) Put something in the subject line like "Sign me up!" so I know it's not junk mail. :) Thanks! -Tiana