ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,416
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,416
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
THE MONSTER WITHIN
CHAPTER 98 – THE MONSTER WITHIN
July 24, 2008
Thursday
4:00am
William sat up with a start, his heart pounding harder than he had ever imagined it could. He looked at Elizabeth, and his mouth went dry. He clasped his head in his hands, pulling his hair. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, to let himself know she was real, that she was still here, still alive, that it was all a horrible dream. He felt dirty, like he’d been violated, like he would violate her, if he touched her, while he still carried these disgusting images in his head.
He’d dreamed he’d been sitting on a couch in his friend’s parlor, notebook and quill in hand. He looked up just as Cecily Addams was coming down the stairs, but it wasn’t for her that his heart started to beat wildly in his chest; wasn’t for her that other parts of him stirred, body and soul. It was for the young woman who had followed a moment behind.
She descended the stairs looking like an angel, wearing a beautiful yellow, satin gown, white lace at the bottom and up the middle of the sleeves; a large, silk, peach flower affixed at her waist. She looked over at William and their eyes had met. Even from across the room, her look had said it all to him; told him that it was for him and him alone that she’d been waiting for.
He rose, putting aside his notebook and quill. Eyes still on her, he made his way around the roomful of people.
A servant purposely blocked his way, “Dinner, sir?” he asked. William looked down and saw a huge hunk of raw meat, sitting in its own blood, which had oozed over the plate, sloshed over the tray and was now running onto the floor.
He shook his head and sidestepped the servant, trying to avoid stepping in the blood, which he now noticed was dripping off everyone’s plate.
Finally, he got to the steps. He forgot everything as he stared up at Elizabeth.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
“I’m here now,” he answered, and put out his hand to her.
She had just started to reach down to take it, when he saw the shadow behind her. He couldn’t quite make it out, but he knew he needed to get her out of harm’s way.
“Elizabeth!” he shouted, trying to reach for her hand to pull her forward, but it was too late, as the shadow took on the form of a lion. It pounced on her, pinning her to the steps, as it’s awful teeth ripped open her throat.
He screamed as he watched the horror of the scene unfold in front of him, watched as her eyes pleaded with him to help her.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed to the room full of people, but they only looked at him and laughed, blood on their mouths as well.
Realizing nobody was coming to her aid, he tried to pull the beast off of her. Suddenly, its head came up, instead of a lion; it was the distorted face of a man; dressed all in black with long fangs and bleached blonde hair. It growled at him and he backed away.
Numb, sickened, he turned and ran toward the door and away from the sights and sounds coming from all of them now. The sounds of a feeding frenzy.
As he came nearer the door, a woman beckoned to him. She was the palest of pale creatures, with dark, long hair. She wore a red and pink flowing velvet gown, her fingernails were painted blood red with white tips. He moved toward her as if he had no will of his own. She took his hand and led him through the door.
All of a sudden the scene changed. They were in a Prague, standing on the Lesser Town end of the Charles Bridge, between the two bridge towers. William could hear the clippity-clop of horses hooves and the wheels of buggies nearby.
The woman motioned to him and they started across the bridge, as they did, he could see corpses, one in front of each of the 30 sculptures that lined the bridge, as if they were some sort of offering, only they lay akimbo, their necks grotesquely broken, savaged. As he looked closer, he recognized them as all people he knew, Dawn, Willow, Xander and his family, Edna, Wallace, and others he recalled from a different time. As they came upon the last body, he looked down to see that it was Elizabeth. Only she wasn’t dead, not yet. And as he looked at her he felt something shift in him, something primal, animalistic. He felt a growl begin in his throat. Licking his lips, he dropped down to his knees and pulled her savagely toward him, until her mouth locked onto her neck. He felt the blood flow down his throat; felt his own body swell with lust and power.
“That’s it Sweet William, do it! Finish her, kill her; for me,” the dark haired beauty cooed in his ear.
He finished drinking, as he felt her heartbeat come to a stop, and just as suddenly, he was himself again.
“NO!” he screamed looking down at Elizabeth, dead and lying in his arms, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, come back, please come back,” he sobbed.
He looked up, his eyes filled with fury, “Why? Why did you make me do this?”
His dark haired companion just laughed her small, tinny laugh, “Why? Why are you so shocked, Poppet? It’s what you always wanted; it’s what you did. It’s who you are, what you are.”
“NO! NO! You are lying!” he screamed as he looked at her uncomprehendingly.
It was then, that he awoke. Now sitting there shaking, William decided he’d better get up, before his trembling awoke her.
He went to the kitchen and retrieved the half-empty bottle of wine, wishing he had something stronger, like what Clem had given him that first day, and brought it with him onto the back porch.
Buffy awoke and immediately knew that she was alone in the bed. It was a sense she had honed over the past few weeks. Not only did she know he wasn’t in bed, but she didn’t sense him anywhere nearby.
She got up and pulled on her robe, checked in the bathroom, but found it empty as she’d expected.
She went into the living room, then the kitchen looking for him. She opened the door to the back porch and stepped out onto it. The back door was partially open. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust as to the dark as she looked outside. Finally, she spotted William, leaning up against the tree, staring up into the starry sky.
Buffy put her feet into the nearest pair of shoes and went outside.
As she neared, she could see him slightly swaying back and forth, he had a bottle in one hand, which he now brought up to his mouth and drank from.
“Why are you out here?” she asked as she got nearer.
He startled, nearly dropping the bottle, but he didn’t answer. Instead, like a deflated balloon, he slid down along the tree to the ground.
She stood over him, angry that he appeared to be drunk, but then she noticed the trembling in his back, as he hung his head. One hand still held the bottle; the other was mindlessly tearing at the grass.
Buffy knelt down and tried to take the bottle out of his hand, but he resisted.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, as she put her hands on his shoulders.
He flinched from her touch, as if he were afraid of her.
Hurt, she withdrew her hands from his shoulders, but instead placed them over the hand that was still clawing at the ground, forcing it to still. He looked up, as if just now realizing she were there.
“William?”
He shook his head, “I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Tell me what’s wrong?”
William didn’t answer; he just shook his head again.
Buffy desperately wanted to get him into the house, she had this feeling that he was pent up with all sorts of emotions that might cause him to take off running into the dark, if she didn’t mitigate get him calmed down soon.
“If you don’t want to talk, will you at least nod yes or no?”
He didn’t indicate that he’d heard her, only took another drink from the bottle.
“Did something happen today that upset you?”
He shook his head.
“Something that happened tonight?”
A barely perceptible nod.
“Before we went to bed?”
Again, he shook his head.
“After we went to sleep?”
A nod.
“A bad dream?”
Again, a nod.
“Were you hurt in the dream?”
No response, but his eyes appeared to tear up.
“Was someone else hurt in the dream?”
He nodded and his eyes spilled over.
“Was I hurt in the dream?”
If it were possible to look more crestfallen or ashamed, she didn’t know how. He nodded.
“William,” she said, softly touching his face.
He flinched, but she didn’t remove her hand.
“Look at me,” she said.
He looked up, his eyes filled with pain and fear.
“I’m here, William. I’m not hurt. I’m fine; it was just a dream.”
“It was me,” he said so softly, she thought she might have imagined it.
“I was the one who…hurt you,” he repeated.
She shook her head, “No. You didn’t. I’m here, all unhurt and everything. It was just a dream. You didn’t hurt me, William. You wouldn’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I see you; see who you are. I live with you, I know you; know the kind of man you are. You’re a beautiful man, a loving man; a man with a good heart and kind…soul.”
Tears spilled over his eyes again, as he shook his head.
“But you know what does hurt me? That you’re sitting here in pain, that I woke up and you were gone…Please, William, come back into the house. For me. Please?”
He nodded and she stood up and pulled him up with her.
He leaned on her, letting him guide him back to the house.
He didn’t say anything as Buffy sat him down on the bed, removing his shoes, then motioned for him to lie down, which he did.
She covered him up, then got back into bed herself.
William lay there staring up at the ceiling, as Buffy watched him. She reached her hand out to touch him, but then withdrew it.
“Would he?”
Buffy looked over at William, not sure if she’d heard correctly.
“Would he? Who? What?”
“Would…he hurt you?”
“Who?” Buffy asked, confused.
“Him…Spike?”
“No,” she answered. So that was it!
“Did he…before? Did Spike hurt you, Elizabeth?” he asked, after a moment.
She hesitated half a second, then rolled over so that she was partially laying on top him then, “No,” she answered, looking him in the eyes, “Spike didn’t hurt me, he wouldn’t, you wouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay?”
It was so complicated. How could she possibly explain the unexplainable? That Spike, he, had wanted to kill her at one time, that it was her duty to kill him, as well, but somewhere along the way, they had both changed? That love, as cliché as it sounded had made all the difference in the world?
He studied her face as she answered him. He let out a shuddering sigh, finally. “Okay,” he answered.
She reached up and gently kissed him on the lips, before settling herself down on his chest.
He put his arms around her, and watched over her, as she fell asleep, and prayed that neither of them would ever meet the monster within, that he feared was more than just a dream.
END CHAPTER 98
A Note: The Julian/Cuyamaca Volunteer Fire Department or....how real life intersects with fiction.
I wanted to thank ALL of you that are reading and reviewing, and those of you that are reading only. Your comments and encouragement are what keep me going, keep me loving the story, even when real life and other things get me distracted from it. It's always there for me (well, really since May when I started it, and last February, when I wrote the prequel).
I lived in San Diego for about a year back in the 80's, and went up to Julian for hiking and an overnight. Julian is a town up in the mountains in the same county about an hour from San Diego...strange thing is that I wrote that into my stories...how Spike came to own the house in Julian was because I was looking for a place for him to take Buffy for the weekend, when I looked at their website (after trying to remember the name of Julian) I discovered it was one of the first goldmining town and that was around the 1860's - 1870's mostly. That gave me a reason for him to have inherited property there (from a brother who had bought up land, then later Spike killed) and gave me the whole premise of why he owned it in the first story and now how Buffy had inhereted it from him (b'cuz he had a premonition about not making it and wanted her to have it, etc.) ...for the first 80 chapters or so...it dealt with her living there for 5 years, her finding out about the amulet...etc...and the drive cross country with Willow, Xander, and Dawn, to bring William and Elizabeth/Buffy back to CA and to the house in Julian...so the fact that I've wove this town into my stories since last February, starting with the first one of these two...well, it just hurts me to think of it burning. I've had readers already telling me that they recognized the town b'cuz of the story. Art imitating life, huh? Another weird thing, in Ch. 11 this is what I wrote prob. way back in May or June:
[After a nearby forest caught fire, and fearing she might be in the same situation some day, she read some books that Spike had in the house on land management and also called The Department of Forestry with some questions. She told them only that she was doing research for her Geology Class. She even was allowed to visit them and witness a prescribed burn. After seeing this, her and Clem would take to doing this once or twice every spring, a different area every time. They did it very carefully, on a very small scale, and only after carefully clearing out a wide area around the area to be burned, and on a very calm day. She felt it was the best way for them to not lose any of the land due to Mother Nature's whims. She thought Spike would be proud of her for this, indeed, she felt rather proud of herself.]
Weird,huh?
So here's the real life story going on right now, there were 7 men and women of the Julian/Cuyamaca Volunteer Fire Department that lost their own houses, while battling the blazes of their neighbors in the area. One firefighter was literally two doors away from their own burned out house. as they helped try to douse that of their neighbor's house.
I thought that since I have touched many of you with this story and made Julian a real place (since it is) and a place that many of you have written to me about with worry, since hearing about it on the news, that I would try to set up a fund for those firefighters whose houses were lost.
I'm going to contact them and the local bank in Julian today to see how I can go about it. Perhaps it will just be through a fund at the local bank in Julian (I believe there's only one) that you could mail donations to, or if they would open a Paypal account, that would make it easy for me to use a link on my website (www.spikealicious.com) and here for donations.
Check back to this page (I'll update it) for more news on donations for the firefighters.
Thanks,
spikealicious
July 24, 2008
Thursday
4:00am
William sat up with a start, his heart pounding harder than he had ever imagined it could. He looked at Elizabeth, and his mouth went dry. He clasped his head in his hands, pulling his hair. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, to let himself know she was real, that she was still here, still alive, that it was all a horrible dream. He felt dirty, like he’d been violated, like he would violate her, if he touched her, while he still carried these disgusting images in his head.
He’d dreamed he’d been sitting on a couch in his friend’s parlor, notebook and quill in hand. He looked up just as Cecily Addams was coming down the stairs, but it wasn’t for her that his heart started to beat wildly in his chest; wasn’t for her that other parts of him stirred, body and soul. It was for the young woman who had followed a moment behind.
She descended the stairs looking like an angel, wearing a beautiful yellow, satin gown, white lace at the bottom and up the middle of the sleeves; a large, silk, peach flower affixed at her waist. She looked over at William and their eyes had met. Even from across the room, her look had said it all to him; told him that it was for him and him alone that she’d been waiting for.
He rose, putting aside his notebook and quill. Eyes still on her, he made his way around the roomful of people.
A servant purposely blocked his way, “Dinner, sir?” he asked. William looked down and saw a huge hunk of raw meat, sitting in its own blood, which had oozed over the plate, sloshed over the tray and was now running onto the floor.
He shook his head and sidestepped the servant, trying to avoid stepping in the blood, which he now noticed was dripping off everyone’s plate.
Finally, he got to the steps. He forgot everything as he stared up at Elizabeth.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
“I’m here now,” he answered, and put out his hand to her.
She had just started to reach down to take it, when he saw the shadow behind her. He couldn’t quite make it out, but he knew he needed to get her out of harm’s way.
“Elizabeth!” he shouted, trying to reach for her hand to pull her forward, but it was too late, as the shadow took on the form of a lion. It pounced on her, pinning her to the steps, as it’s awful teeth ripped open her throat.
He screamed as he watched the horror of the scene unfold in front of him, watched as her eyes pleaded with him to help her.
“Help me! Help me!” he screamed to the room full of people, but they only looked at him and laughed, blood on their mouths as well.
Realizing nobody was coming to her aid, he tried to pull the beast off of her. Suddenly, its head came up, instead of a lion; it was the distorted face of a man; dressed all in black with long fangs and bleached blonde hair. It growled at him and he backed away.
Numb, sickened, he turned and ran toward the door and away from the sights and sounds coming from all of them now. The sounds of a feeding frenzy.
As he came nearer the door, a woman beckoned to him. She was the palest of pale creatures, with dark, long hair. She wore a red and pink flowing velvet gown, her fingernails were painted blood red with white tips. He moved toward her as if he had no will of his own. She took his hand and led him through the door.
All of a sudden the scene changed. They were in a Prague, standing on the Lesser Town end of the Charles Bridge, between the two bridge towers. William could hear the clippity-clop of horses hooves and the wheels of buggies nearby.
The woman motioned to him and they started across the bridge, as they did, he could see corpses, one in front of each of the 30 sculptures that lined the bridge, as if they were some sort of offering, only they lay akimbo, their necks grotesquely broken, savaged. As he looked closer, he recognized them as all people he knew, Dawn, Willow, Xander and his family, Edna, Wallace, and others he recalled from a different time. As they came upon the last body, he looked down to see that it was Elizabeth. Only she wasn’t dead, not yet. And as he looked at her he felt something shift in him, something primal, animalistic. He felt a growl begin in his throat. Licking his lips, he dropped down to his knees and pulled her savagely toward him, until her mouth locked onto her neck. He felt the blood flow down his throat; felt his own body swell with lust and power.
“That’s it Sweet William, do it! Finish her, kill her; for me,” the dark haired beauty cooed in his ear.
He finished drinking, as he felt her heartbeat come to a stop, and just as suddenly, he was himself again.
“NO!” he screamed looking down at Elizabeth, dead and lying in his arms, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, come back, please come back,” he sobbed.
He looked up, his eyes filled with fury, “Why? Why did you make me do this?”
His dark haired companion just laughed her small, tinny laugh, “Why? Why are you so shocked, Poppet? It’s what you always wanted; it’s what you did. It’s who you are, what you are.”
“NO! NO! You are lying!” he screamed as he looked at her uncomprehendingly.
It was then, that he awoke. Now sitting there shaking, William decided he’d better get up, before his trembling awoke her.
He went to the kitchen and retrieved the half-empty bottle of wine, wishing he had something stronger, like what Clem had given him that first day, and brought it with him onto the back porch.
Buffy awoke and immediately knew that she was alone in the bed. It was a sense she had honed over the past few weeks. Not only did she know he wasn’t in bed, but she didn’t sense him anywhere nearby.
She got up and pulled on her robe, checked in the bathroom, but found it empty as she’d expected.
She went into the living room, then the kitchen looking for him. She opened the door to the back porch and stepped out onto it. The back door was partially open. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust as to the dark as she looked outside. Finally, she spotted William, leaning up against the tree, staring up into the starry sky.
Buffy put her feet into the nearest pair of shoes and went outside.
As she neared, she could see him slightly swaying back and forth, he had a bottle in one hand, which he now brought up to his mouth and drank from.
“Why are you out here?” she asked as she got nearer.
He startled, nearly dropping the bottle, but he didn’t answer. Instead, like a deflated balloon, he slid down along the tree to the ground.
She stood over him, angry that he appeared to be drunk, but then she noticed the trembling in his back, as he hung his head. One hand still held the bottle; the other was mindlessly tearing at the grass.
Buffy knelt down and tried to take the bottle out of his hand, but he resisted.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, as she put her hands on his shoulders.
He flinched from her touch, as if he were afraid of her.
Hurt, she withdrew her hands from his shoulders, but instead placed them over the hand that was still clawing at the ground, forcing it to still. He looked up, as if just now realizing she were there.
“William?”
He shook his head, “I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Tell me what’s wrong?”
William didn’t answer; he just shook his head again.
Buffy desperately wanted to get him into the house, she had this feeling that he was pent up with all sorts of emotions that might cause him to take off running into the dark, if she didn’t mitigate get him calmed down soon.
“If you don’t want to talk, will you at least nod yes or no?”
He didn’t indicate that he’d heard her, only took another drink from the bottle.
“Did something happen today that upset you?”
He shook his head.
“Something that happened tonight?”
A barely perceptible nod.
“Before we went to bed?”
Again, he shook his head.
“After we went to sleep?”
A nod.
“A bad dream?”
Again, a nod.
“Were you hurt in the dream?”
No response, but his eyes appeared to tear up.
“Was someone else hurt in the dream?”
He nodded and his eyes spilled over.
“Was I hurt in the dream?”
If it were possible to look more crestfallen or ashamed, she didn’t know how. He nodded.
“William,” she said, softly touching his face.
He flinched, but she didn’t remove her hand.
“Look at me,” she said.
He looked up, his eyes filled with pain and fear.
“I’m here, William. I’m not hurt. I’m fine; it was just a dream.”
“It was me,” he said so softly, she thought she might have imagined it.
“I was the one who…hurt you,” he repeated.
She shook her head, “No. You didn’t. I’m here, all unhurt and everything. It was just a dream. You didn’t hurt me, William. You wouldn’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I see you; see who you are. I live with you, I know you; know the kind of man you are. You’re a beautiful man, a loving man; a man with a good heart and kind…soul.”
Tears spilled over his eyes again, as he shook his head.
“But you know what does hurt me? That you’re sitting here in pain, that I woke up and you were gone…Please, William, come back into the house. For me. Please?”
He nodded and she stood up and pulled him up with her.
He leaned on her, letting him guide him back to the house.
He didn’t say anything as Buffy sat him down on the bed, removing his shoes, then motioned for him to lie down, which he did.
She covered him up, then got back into bed herself.
William lay there staring up at the ceiling, as Buffy watched him. She reached her hand out to touch him, but then withdrew it.
“Would he?”
Buffy looked over at William, not sure if she’d heard correctly.
“Would he? Who? What?”
“Would…he hurt you?”
“Who?” Buffy asked, confused.
“Him…Spike?”
“No,” she answered. So that was it!
“Did he…before? Did Spike hurt you, Elizabeth?” he asked, after a moment.
She hesitated half a second, then rolled over so that she was partially laying on top him then, “No,” she answered, looking him in the eyes, “Spike didn’t hurt me, he wouldn’t, you wouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Okay?”
It was so complicated. How could she possibly explain the unexplainable? That Spike, he, had wanted to kill her at one time, that it was her duty to kill him, as well, but somewhere along the way, they had both changed? That love, as cliché as it sounded had made all the difference in the world?
He studied her face as she answered him. He let out a shuddering sigh, finally. “Okay,” he answered.
She reached up and gently kissed him on the lips, before settling herself down on his chest.
He put his arms around her, and watched over her, as she fell asleep, and prayed that neither of them would ever meet the monster within, that he feared was more than just a dream.
END CHAPTER 98
A Note: The Julian/Cuyamaca Volunteer Fire Department or....how real life intersects with fiction.
I wanted to thank ALL of you that are reading and reviewing, and those of you that are reading only. Your comments and encouragement are what keep me going, keep me loving the story, even when real life and other things get me distracted from it. It's always there for me (well, really since May when I started it, and last February, when I wrote the prequel).
I lived in San Diego for about a year back in the 80's, and went up to Julian for hiking and an overnight. Julian is a town up in the mountains in the same county about an hour from San Diego...strange thing is that I wrote that into my stories...how Spike came to own the house in Julian was because I was looking for a place for him to take Buffy for the weekend, when I looked at their website (after trying to remember the name of Julian) I discovered it was one of the first goldmining town and that was around the 1860's - 1870's mostly. That gave me a reason for him to have inherited property there (from a brother who had bought up land, then later Spike killed) and gave me the whole premise of why he owned it in the first story and now how Buffy had inhereted it from him (b'cuz he had a premonition about not making it and wanted her to have it, etc.) ...for the first 80 chapters or so...it dealt with her living there for 5 years, her finding out about the amulet...etc...and the drive cross country with Willow, Xander, and Dawn, to bring William and Elizabeth/Buffy back to CA and to the house in Julian...so the fact that I've wove this town into my stories since last February, starting with the first one of these two...well, it just hurts me to think of it burning. I've had readers already telling me that they recognized the town b'cuz of the story. Art imitating life, huh? Another weird thing, in Ch. 11 this is what I wrote prob. way back in May or June:
[After a nearby forest caught fire, and fearing she might be in the same situation some day, she read some books that Spike had in the house on land management and also called The Department of Forestry with some questions. She told them only that she was doing research for her Geology Class. She even was allowed to visit them and witness a prescribed burn. After seeing this, her and Clem would take to doing this once or twice every spring, a different area every time. They did it very carefully, on a very small scale, and only after carefully clearing out a wide area around the area to be burned, and on a very calm day. She felt it was the best way for them to not lose any of the land due to Mother Nature's whims. She thought Spike would be proud of her for this, indeed, she felt rather proud of herself.]
Weird,huh?
So here's the real life story going on right now, there were 7 men and women of the Julian/Cuyamaca Volunteer Fire Department that lost their own houses, while battling the blazes of their neighbors in the area. One firefighter was literally two doors away from their own burned out house. as they helped try to douse that of their neighbor's house.
I thought that since I have touched many of you with this story and made Julian a real place (since it is) and a place that many of you have written to me about with worry, since hearing about it on the news, that I would try to set up a fund for those firefighters whose houses were lost.
I'm going to contact them and the local bank in Julian today to see how I can go about it. Perhaps it will just be through a fund at the local bank in Julian (I believe there's only one) that you could mail donations to, or if they would open a Paypal account, that would make it easy for me to use a link on my website (www.spikealicious.com) and here for donations.
Check back to this page (I'll update it) for more news on donations for the firefighters.
Thanks,
spikealicious