The Spring of Eridanus
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Starlight Series: Story 3/12
AUTHOR: Ariane
EMAIL: ariane_five@yahoo.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Buffy/Spike
SETTING: Post 'The Grave' AU S7
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a damp November
evening, before Buffy got her nerve up to visit Spike’s crypt again. She hadn’t
seen him since he’d demanded that she get out of his crypt. He’d been acting
so strangely that day. That had been more than four weeks ago. Four weeks. She
couldn’t believe how slowly the time had passed. Everyday she’d expect to see
him, run into him somewhere in town, but she never saw him and she couldn’t
understand why she felt so restless.
“Am I worried about him? No way! Don’t want to think about him. Never. Again.
But why did he come back?” Her mind churned. She couldn’t imagine that he had
any reason to come back to Sunnydale other than to see her. But it seemed she’d
been wrong. Very wrong.
The door to his crypt was hanging open and as she stepped inside she could sense
its emptiness. He wasn’t there. In fact, it didn’t appear that anyone had been
there for some time. She searched the top floor and then climbed down to search
the lower level.
“Abandoned,” she thought. “He’s gone.”
She sat down on his dusty, disheveled bed and wondered why she didn’t feel elated.
After all it’s what she told him she’d wanted all these years. For him to get
out of her life. She thought about their last meeting and how she’d thought
there was something odd about him. A look in his eye, the way he’d blushed.
He hadn’t fawned over her or tried to ask her forgiveness for what he’d done
to her before he left the first time. Just told her to get out. Like he was
just bored and irritated that she’d shown up to bother him. Like something was
missing inside of him.
“The chip,” she exclaimed. “He’s back to his old ways. Completely off the leash
now.”
She looked morosely about the room. The room where they’d spent so much time
together. And then it struck her—what she’d sensed had been missing from the
dynamic of their encounter.
“He really doesn’t love me anymore.”
* * * * *
Anya glanced at her watch.
“Almost closing time,” she thought, looking out the shop window at the streetlights
which had just flickered on. She was busy inventorying a new shipment of books
that had just been delivered to the Magic Box. The store was finally back in
business after several months of repair and remodeling after it had been destroyed
by the battle with Willow.
Giles had been kind enough to finance the repairs. He’d been very sweet to her
over these last months and she was surprised at how much she missed him after
he returned to England. He did write though. His letters were full of advice
about the business, most of which she’d ignored. Giles didn’t really like business,
but that didn’t stop him from thinking he was an expert. But it had been wonderful
of him to help her out and she looked forward to his letters, mostly just to
gaze at his farewell signature, which he always included: ‘With much love, your
friend Giles.’
She considered her current existence precarious at best. She was living a life
in the shadows. She really didn’t have any other friends now and all she did
was work, trying to save a little money…for what, she didn’t know. Money had
begun to lose its attraction lately. She tried not to think of the future. Her
dreams of life as a human, of love, marriage and perhaps a family were completely
abandoned. She couldn’t afford to wish for something different now. No more
wishing for her. Especially no wishes that involved him. From what she’d learned
from Giles, Xander had been completely involved helping to rehabilitate Willow
these last six months. He’d never even thanked her for the help she’d provided
the Scoobies that day.
“Why am I thinking about HIM again?” she spoke out loud, “Go away, you miserable,
betraying, lying male!”
“Am I interrupting?”
“Spike!” she smiled.
“Hello luv. How’ve you been?” Spike paused at the door, not sure he was really
welcomed here.
“What are you doing here? Giles told me you’d left Sunnydale for good.”
“Want me to go?” he asked quietly, and turned to leave.
“No!” she exclaimed, “You just surprised me. Looking for Buffy? She’s not here.
None of them ever come by here anymore.”
“Buffy?” he asked in an odd voice, “No, no…that’s all over…long over. Finally
came to my senses about that little bit o’ insanity.”
“Well come in.” She gestured to one of the chairs. “Sit down and I’ll get you
something to drink…ah…tea,” she stammered. The memory, of the night of their
last encounter, suddenly making her embarrassed.
He strode over to the chair and sat down.
“No thanks, luv. I don’t want to keep you long. I just have a small favor to
ask.”
“Sure. But no wishes.”
She shrugged her shoulders and then suddenly moved a few steps closer to where
he sat. She leaned over and peered into his eyes.
“What happened to you?!” she exclaimed.
* * * * *
The strange thing about
his new home was that it appeared to be immune from invasion by the occasional
vampire or demon he’d see stroll past. He’d be sitting in the downstairs living
room and sense their approach. They’d stand outside on the side walk, staring
at the house, perhaps thinking that it was the perfect location for a nest.
Then they’d try to open the gate and as soon as their hand touched the wood,
they’d howl in pain, just as if they’d stuck their hand into direct sunlight
or into a burning flame. He had no idea what kept them out. He didn’t sense
evil or a spell. The only thing he noticed was that the air around the house
felt a bit heavy or thick, as if the oxygen level was higher than usual. Perhaps
it was all the overgrown vegetation.
He’d tried to do a little research into the mysterious Miss Lillian Mintaka,
but had come up blank. Mr. Nilam was worse than useless as an information source.
All Spike could get out of the old man regarding his new employer was that she
was, “Quite the gal, very nice ankles. Wears lovely big pearls.” The old git
had a thing about ankles though Spike doubted if Mr.Nilam could even see that
far anymore. Probably just lived on the memory of past visions of delight.
He was out in the backyard trying to clear away some of the weeds and overgrown
shrubs. He didn’t mind things being overgrown. You didn’t really notice such
things when you spent your life in darkness. But he’d been awakened lately by
odd rustling and gurgling sounds from the yard and thought if he’d clear things
away he might be able to find their source. Probably just raccoons or possums.
But one never knew. He thought he’d do it just to be on the safe side and if
Miss Mintaka ever showed her face, at least he could say that he’d earned his
salary. He tried to work just after sunset or in the early dawn, when
there was enough light to see what he was doing, but could avoid the painful
effects of the direct sun.
He found that he actually enjoyed the physical work. He missed being physical,
patrolling, fighting… making love.
“No don’t go there. Mustn’t think of her, the bitch,” he swore to himself. “She
never cared about me. Never loved me.”
It had become his mantra which he’d chant desperately whenever the memories
of her surfaced—‘Never loved me.’
He threw the rusty hedge clippers down into the weeds.
“Enough for today.”
He was slowly weaving his way back toward the house through the brush and trees
when he tripped on something and fell flat on his face.
“Bloody hell!” he growled and started to get up off the ground.
And then he heard it. A small spring was bubbling beneath the overgrown grove
of lilac bushes next to where he’d fallen.
“What’s this?” He crawled through the overgrown branches and began to clear
the debris and leaves from the water.
The spring was flowing into a small pool. He noticed, with surprise, that it
appeared that the pool was encircled with small hewn stones, embedded into the
ground. He splashed some water from the pool over the stones and tried to clean
them off with a handful of dried leaves. The stones were smooth and white. He
began cleaning them with renewed vigor. Soon he had the whole circle cleared
and the stones softly reflected a bit of light from the newly risen moon. The
circumference of the pool was only about two feet and the stones which edged
it were about six inches square. He sat back on his heels, pleased with the
results of his labor. On sudden impulse he scooped up a handful of the icy cold
water and took a long drink. His vision darkened and he slowly lost consciousness.
* * * * *
He was running through a crowded room. Smoke was pouring through the windows
and swirling across the ceiling. He could see flames consuming one end of the
room. People were screaming. He had to find her…knew she was somewhere trapped
amidst the throngs of desperate humans trying to escape. The roof started to
collapse and he saw her standing motionless beneath a molten beam falling from
the ceiling.
“Buffy!” he screamed.
She turned toward his voice and began pushing her way toward him. The beam fell,
just missing her by inches. She held out her arms to him and he grabbed her,
lifted her into his arms and carried her outside and far away from the building.
He set her down on a patch of grass and when she stopped coughing she looked
up at him in surprise.
“Why did you do that?”
He looked at her, a bit dumbfounded, “What do you mean? You would’ve died in
there!”
“Yeah. That was the point, stupid. Why do you always mess in my life? Can’t
you leave me alone?”
“You wanted to burn up?”
“What’s it to you?”
“What’s it to me? To me?! You idiot! After all I went through for you! I’m not
going to stand around and watch you kill yourself!”
“What? What did you go through for me? Felt bad for a second about forcing yourself
on me, did you?” She got up off the grass and started to walk away.
“You’re not walking away from me. Talk to me,” he cried, “Please, Buffy! Talk
to me.”
“I don’t know how.” She turned back to him and threw her arms around his neck.
She gave him a soft kiss, molding her body against his.
“This is all I know.”
** * * *
He woke up several hours
later. He was lying flat on his back next to the pool.
“What the hell happened?” he thought to himself.
He shook his head struggling to wake up. He stood up slowly, a bit unsteady
on his feet and went back into the house. He threw himself down onto the living
room couch and fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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