By Heather Martin
Rated – R
Summary- The monks gave Buffy and Spike one night of fake memories. That would have been enough to change their lives. But when you add a glowing key in the form of an unborn baby, well . . . things wouldn't just change, they would be turned completely upside-down
Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns Spike's eyebrow scar, his bleached hair, his crystal blue eyes, his manly arms, his muscular chest, his tight . . . cough Too bad isn't it? But a girl can dream, right?
Spoilers- Starts during Out of My Mind. The entire Season 5, although I changed it tremendously to suit my own purpose
Later Buffy would contemplate why she had gone to Spike in the first place. I mean, she had a totally decent boyfriend who could satisfy her needs anytime she wished. But he never had stamina like this. Or filled her this completely. She'd never felt this euphoric before.
Arrrgh. Oh, he could hit her in just the right place. He gave her so much pleasure that it hurt. He was an expert. Why Drusilla would choose Angelus over him was beyond her.
Buffy met his thrusts hungrily. She needed more. She was dying, but oh it was so sweet. Her walls began to quake. Her head fell back as the explosion washed over her. He came right after her.
She fell back against the stone floor, breathing hard. It took awhile for her legs to work. When they did she sprung up in search of her clothes. She dressed, not looking at him. He didn't speak the entire time. Fully covered, Buffy ran away in shame.
2 Months Ago
The monks did not take into account that supposedly Buffy hated Spike. All they knew was that the slayer and vampire were strong, and therefore the best candidates to protect. The beast was close and they had very little time. The key had to be saved, no matter what the cost.
Two of these monks raced around the corner of a corridor. They both held religious items, such as books, candles, and incense. The slower one stumbled and fell. Some incense slipped from his clutch. His companion slowed, helping him up. Then they continued their flight down the candlelit Czech monastery.
The men burst through a set of large wooden doors. They turned and quickly slammed them shut, before bolting them by sliding a large beam across.
"It's coming. It's going to kill us!" one of the monks shouted in a panic.
"Our lives aren't important. We have to protect the key," the second monk reasoned.
This statement seemed to remind the frightened individual why he was there. He nodded.
They rushed to the center of the room. Another man, with authority, joined them. All three knelt on the cold stone floor. A ring of lit candles surrounded the group.
"Help me perform the ritual," commanded the senior monk.
They extended their arms and began to chant. A crash could be heard over the ancient words. The door jiggled on their hinges. The younger monks glanced back uncertainly.
"Concentrate. Concentrate," said the elder.
A gust of wind swirled through the chamber as the ritual reached its peak. The crossbeam over the door splintered. A flash of light formed in the circle. It faded just before the door gave away.
The knocking noise grew louder as Buffy walked. She rounded a corner to come face-to-face with Riley. He kept punching the rock wall, oblivious to her presence.
He looked tired and sweaty. Blood coated his knuckles.
"You know, this doesn't even hurt," he remarked.
She gaped. "You're hand is bleeding."
"Don't feel a thing."
Buffy grabbed his arm to stop him. "This stops now. I'm taking you to that doctor," she demanded.
"The one from the government, you mean? Like the ones who did this to me in the first place?"
"He's the only one who understands what's wrong with you, who can help."
Riley looked at her with wide eyes. "What's wrong with me? Buffy, I've never felt this powerful. Most people would kill to feel this way."
"It's killing you. Your body isn't built for this kind of strength."
As the sentence died his legs gave out. She caught him before he fell.
"Buffy. I swear I was just thinking of you. I wanted to tell you the great news. My head's all clear now. No more bug-zapper in my noggin," Spike said with pride.
"That means I get to kill you," she replied.
He smirked. "That means you get to try."
The slayer punched Spike in the face. She repeated the action a few more times. He stumbled back into the operating table. He used his vampiric muscles to jump up onto the table. He grinned down at Buffy.
"At long last."
He leapt down on top of her. He pinned her down and lowered his head to her neck. He shifted, his teeth elongating. Just before they slid into her creamy throat he hollered in pain. Buffy shoved him away. He landed next to the doctor.
The doctor looked terrified. Spike gave him an accused glare.
The vampire got up and checked the container that his chip supposedly had been placed into. He lifted out a coin.
"I-I told you I couldn't do it," the doctor stammered.
Buffy crawled over to her unconscious boyfriend. "Doctor, we need you now!"
Spike pulled Harmony away. He grabbed his coat on the way out.
"Hold on, Riley. Please."
Buffy stared off into space. The doctor's words didn't register.
"I'm sorry. It doesn't matter how soon you could have brought him in. If he had any chance at all it would have had to be days ago."
Buffy didn't want to hear it. So she didn't.
In Spike's dream he relived his night with Buffy. Their coupling had been wild and violent. But it was slow and tender in his mind.
When he went over the edge he cried out. "Buffy, I love you! God, I love you so much!"
Spike awoke with a start. He sat bolt upright. Horror spread across his features.
"No. Please no," he pleaded.
Buffy didn't come out of her room for days. She curled up under the blankets, hardly moving. The people who cared for her were very worried, especially her mother. Joyce carried food up to her, but Buffy took no more than a few bites. She feared that her daughter was wasting away.
Her friends came to see her. Nobody could get her to say a full sentence. She barely looked at them.
Then, on the sixth night something snapped. She dressed and crept down to the front door. She stepped out into the chilly air.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
Spike came out of the shadows. He tossed his lit cigarette. It landed at the trunk of the tree that stood by the road.
"Heard what happened to your soldier boy. Condolences." His voice gave away that he really wasn't sorry at all.
She stared at him with hard eyes.
"You never answered my question," she said.
"Oh. Well, your house happens to be between . . . Parts and other parts of this town. I was just passing through."
"Liar. I've felt you for over two hours."
He raised an eyebrow. "Guess I'm caught."
"I don't know what you think you're doing, but please leave." She turned away.
A frown marred his face. In all reality he had been gazing up at her window, worried. Rumor had it that she hadn't shown up for patrol in almost a week.
"Buffy, he was just a boy. Did he mean that much to you?"
She spun back around. Fury flared in her eyes. "How dare you! You know nothing about him!" She punched him in the nose. That wasn't enough. She kept punching him. She punched him over and over until he was on the ground. Still she kept it up. She mutilated his face, blacking his eye.
Spike felt her pain. He lay immobile below her. Even if the chip had somehow malfunctioned he would have let her take it all out on him. He loved her, damnit. He loved her against his will. He had tried to stop it, but it consumed him.
That's right, baby. Let it all out.
Finally Buffy collapsed on top of him. She sobbed. His arm uncontrollably wrapped around her.
Yep, Riley's dead. Not that I hate him, but he needed to be out of the picture. I don't think anyone's that upset.