Sunlight Ch. 12
Title: Sunlight
Author: evildeadgirl
Genres: Romance, Action, Angst
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Adult Language, Sexual Situations, B/O, Violence
Summary: About 1 year after the destruction of Sunnydale Buffy is settling into her new life on the Hellmouth in Cleveland. Her existence is shaken with the return of somone from the past. Post NFA & Post Chosen.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine; Joss is God. This fic is rated NC-17 and should not be read by anyone under the legal age.
Missed a chapter? Story starts here.
*Excerpt in this chapter is from "If You Forget Me" a poem by Pablo Neruda*
Chapter 12
His heart stopped, or would have had it still been beating. The look on her face…briefly he thought it was her; his Buffy. Her calling his name had been a question, not a statement; she was asking if he was Spike. This wasn’t Buffy, not anymore.
“Yeah luv…” he managed to choke it out staring down into her confused eyes; then she was gone again. Overwhelmed by feelings and memories that weren’t hers; that she didn’t want, not any longer.
He carried her down the street; he small body tucked safely into his arms. He was so bloody confused.
*How could she know me?*
She wasn’t Buffy; she looked like Buffy, smelled like Buffy, he had even heard her laugh like Buffy, but whoever this ‘Liz’ was, she wasn’t the Slayer. It was ironic how even though Buffy was gone, the girl who had taken her place still remembered him; remembered everything bad or degrading he had even said or done to her. Apparently even the subconscious could hold grudges.
He reached the apartment and balanced Buffy in one arm while unlocking the door. She let out a whimper, but did not open her eyes. No one was home yet; he had been hoping they would be. He didn’t crave time alone with this girl; he shouldn’t be the one to explain that her life was a lie, and that she was in fact a vampire slayer, with a key for a sister, and several undead vampire ex-boyfriends, and with one of them she had gotten pregnant and lost the baby.
“Bloody hell!” Spike grunted as his shins slammed into the coffee table; so much for being subtle. He laid the unconscious Buffy/Liz on the couch, and sagged in the comfy chair across from her.
He was going to enjoy the quiet; the calm before the storm. She may not be Buffy anymore, but when she woke up he knew there was going to be hell to pay.
*She wasn’t scared of you*
Spike snorted and then glanced worriedly at the sleeping figure on the couch. This was what was left of the Slayer; a weak and delusional girl who dreamed of vampires.
*You don’t know that she was dreaming it too you git*
But he knew she had; the girl on the couch was the girl in his dreams, and it wasn’t Buffy.
***
“Spike are you here? Where’s the demon!” The apartment door slammed shut as a hyperactive Dawn and exhausted Xander stepped into the apartment.
“Quiet!” It was a hushed command; and both Xander and Dawn stilled instantly. Dawn stepped forward and her eyes became huge as she stared down at the sleeping figure of her sister on the couch.
“You found her!!!???” Dawn managed to squeal quietly while hopping up and down.
“Got the demon and the girl all in one night; I’d say that deserves some whiskey.” Spike’s tone was bitter.
“What is your problem Spike? We have Buffy, and we know she is safe.” Xander frowned.
“That,” Spike pointed at the girl on the couch, “…is not Buffy; that’s Liz. Buffy is gone.”
“I don’t…” Dawn started.
“Whoever he…”Spike growled softly. “…was, the guy that had her, he gave her a new identity, a new life. We don’t exist anymore.”
“Oh.” They were all silent.
Xander and Dawn began talking in hushed tones, still staring down at the slumbering form of Buffy/Liz on the couch.
Spike was angry; angry at himself and angry at the Slayer. This was not how she was supposed to go; she deserved to die fighting, as a warrior, not swallowed by the consciousness of a weak mind, and frail body. Buffy deserved better.
The temperature in the room seem to drop, and the air seemed to be dead it was so still.
“Spike?” She’d said it again; uttered his name like it was the only word she knew.
“She does remember!” Dawn screeched and ran around the side of the couch towards Buffy. Liz coward away from Dawn, scooting across the couch holding her hands up in defense. Spike saw it all behind glazed eyes; he sparked something familiar in her, but she didn’t know who he was.
Liz jumped to her feet; arms wrapped around her body as if trying to ward of anything from touching her. Everyone else in the room was still; watching her carefully.
*This isn’t right*
Confusion wasn’t the word for what she was feeling right now; mental, mental was a better word. This wasn’t her life; she didn’t know these people. The one-eyed man and the tall brown hair girl were staring at her expectantly; like they expected words of wisdom, but she had none to give. They meant nothing to her. He however did; he meant something, although she didn’t know what.
He wasn’t looking at her; he was absently chipping the black fingernail polish off his non-existent nails. She didn’t really remember him, but she had dreamt him, and that meant something. His name was Spike, she didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. He scared her.
“I need...” her voice sounded vacant and weak, even to her. “…Jake? Where is he, who are you?”
The faces of the two watching her fell; she could sense the utter disbelief in her words. What did they expect from her; she wasn’t who they thought she was obviously, it was all a mistake.
“Buffy…” the girl started.
“MY NAME IS LIZ.” Her words were solid but her voice was shaking. This was just a bad dream; she was still at home, in her bed dreaming. That was it.
“Spike, where is the demon?”
“At my flat.” His voice was cold and emotionless. He wanted to rip her apart; this frail girl in front of him playing in Buffy’s body. Had he made her this?
“I’m….I’m going to make some tea…Xander...will you help me?” Dawn’s voice was quaking and she was on the edge of tears. She needed her sister back.
“Sure thing Dawnie.” The pair started off to the kitchen leaving Spike and Liz alone.
“Am I dreaming?” Her soft words knocked him from his melancholy thoughts.
“No; do you wish you were?” His rough question baffled her. This made no sense; he made no sense.
“Do you always answer a question with another question?” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them, but he didn’t take offense, he didn’t even react. “How do I know what to think unless it’s told to me?”
“What?” His head snapped up at her questions; his blue eyes were staring her down.
“If I don’t remember, who I was, does that mean I was nothing before this? Or, am I who I am because I was told this is who I was?”
“If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.”
Spike was startled to hear himself spouting poetry; that was a love long lost when he died. And although secretly he craved satisfaction from the pages of those books, it was something that he never shared, not anymore. He didn’t give Liz a chance to speak, but moved forward as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
“You were Buffy; now you are Liz. You’re right, you can’t bloody well be the person you were if you don’t remember her, but I’m telling you Liz…” Spike sneered her name like it was the foulest thing he had ever said. “…you are not Buffy, but this life you think you had with…Jake…isn’t real.”
Liz was distressed by the venom in Spike’s voice; what had she done to him to make him dislike her so?
“So if I was Buffy, why did you help me? Obviously you hate me, or something about me disgusts you. I don’t remember being her, but I was at one point! Why shouldn’t I rather be with a man who loves me and protects me, than will you crazy people who yell at me and treat me like dirt? And I’m the insane one…” She muttered the last sentence under her breath. This was all too much to take.
She was the one with amnesia, and she was supposed to feel bad about not remembering her old life? She was supposed to swallow the blame for embracing a life that was held before her? She paused from her mental debate and caught site of Spike. He was shaking; his body trembling chaotically
He looked up at her and his eyes were full of anguish. “Don’t talk about things you know nuthin’ about. Buffy was loved, and she was protected. You spend one week building a new bleedin’ life and you figure that we were the cause of this bloody catastrophe?”
She didn’t understand him; he was pained for her, for Buffy and he felt not even the slightest connect to her. He was leaving her no room to adjust, to learn.
“So you are trying to tell me here is where I am safe, with you? Then why do I dream about pain and sorrow? Why are the flickers of familiarity all coming with a side dose of fear? Is that what my life was? If I was so safe and protected, how did I get these?” Liz pointed frantically to the scars on her neck, the scars on of her hands, and then pulled up her shirt and showed him the vivid scars across her lower stomach. They were still red, and not quite healed.
“Every time I touch these I feel so sad I could die; why? Is this what loving me did?”
Author: evildeadgirl
Genres: Romance, Action, Angst
Rated: NC-17
Warnings: Adult Language, Sexual Situations, B/O, Violence
Summary: About 1 year after the destruction of Sunnydale Buffy is settling into her new life on the Hellmouth in Cleveland. Her existence is shaken with the return of somone from the past. Post NFA & Post Chosen.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine; Joss is God. This fic is rated NC-17 and should not be read by anyone under the legal age.
Missed a chapter? Story starts here.
*Excerpt in this chapter is from "If You Forget Me" a poem by Pablo Neruda*
Chapter 12
His heart stopped, or would have had it still been beating. The look on her face…briefly he thought it was her; his Buffy. Her calling his name had been a question, not a statement; she was asking if he was Spike. This wasn’t Buffy, not anymore.
“Yeah luv…” he managed to choke it out staring down into her confused eyes; then she was gone again. Overwhelmed by feelings and memories that weren’t hers; that she didn’t want, not any longer.
He carried her down the street; he small body tucked safely into his arms. He was so bloody confused.
*How could she know me?*
She wasn’t Buffy; she looked like Buffy, smelled like Buffy, he had even heard her laugh like Buffy, but whoever this ‘Liz’ was, she wasn’t the Slayer. It was ironic how even though Buffy was gone, the girl who had taken her place still remembered him; remembered everything bad or degrading he had even said or done to her. Apparently even the subconscious could hold grudges.
He reached the apartment and balanced Buffy in one arm while unlocking the door. She let out a whimper, but did not open her eyes. No one was home yet; he had been hoping they would be. He didn’t crave time alone with this girl; he shouldn’t be the one to explain that her life was a lie, and that she was in fact a vampire slayer, with a key for a sister, and several undead vampire ex-boyfriends, and with one of them she had gotten pregnant and lost the baby.
“Bloody hell!” Spike grunted as his shins slammed into the coffee table; so much for being subtle. He laid the unconscious Buffy/Liz on the couch, and sagged in the comfy chair across from her.
He was going to enjoy the quiet; the calm before the storm. She may not be Buffy anymore, but when she woke up he knew there was going to be hell to pay.
*She wasn’t scared of you*
Spike snorted and then glanced worriedly at the sleeping figure on the couch. This was what was left of the Slayer; a weak and delusional girl who dreamed of vampires.
*You don’t know that she was dreaming it too you git*
But he knew she had; the girl on the couch was the girl in his dreams, and it wasn’t Buffy.
***
“Spike are you here? Where’s the demon!” The apartment door slammed shut as a hyperactive Dawn and exhausted Xander stepped into the apartment.
“Quiet!” It was a hushed command; and both Xander and Dawn stilled instantly. Dawn stepped forward and her eyes became huge as she stared down at the sleeping figure of her sister on the couch.
“You found her!!!???” Dawn managed to squeal quietly while hopping up and down.
“Got the demon and the girl all in one night; I’d say that deserves some whiskey.” Spike’s tone was bitter.
“What is your problem Spike? We have Buffy, and we know she is safe.” Xander frowned.
“That,” Spike pointed at the girl on the couch, “…is not Buffy; that’s Liz. Buffy is gone.”
“I don’t…” Dawn started.
“Whoever he…”Spike growled softly. “…was, the guy that had her, he gave her a new identity, a new life. We don’t exist anymore.”
“Oh.” They were all silent.
Xander and Dawn began talking in hushed tones, still staring down at the slumbering form of Buffy/Liz on the couch.
Spike was angry; angry at himself and angry at the Slayer. This was not how she was supposed to go; she deserved to die fighting, as a warrior, not swallowed by the consciousness of a weak mind, and frail body. Buffy deserved better.
The temperature in the room seem to drop, and the air seemed to be dead it was so still.
“Spike?” She’d said it again; uttered his name like it was the only word she knew.
“She does remember!” Dawn screeched and ran around the side of the couch towards Buffy. Liz coward away from Dawn, scooting across the couch holding her hands up in defense. Spike saw it all behind glazed eyes; he sparked something familiar in her, but she didn’t know who he was.
Liz jumped to her feet; arms wrapped around her body as if trying to ward of anything from touching her. Everyone else in the room was still; watching her carefully.
*This isn’t right*
Confusion wasn’t the word for what she was feeling right now; mental, mental was a better word. This wasn’t her life; she didn’t know these people. The one-eyed man and the tall brown hair girl were staring at her expectantly; like they expected words of wisdom, but she had none to give. They meant nothing to her. He however did; he meant something, although she didn’t know what.
He wasn’t looking at her; he was absently chipping the black fingernail polish off his non-existent nails. She didn’t really remember him, but she had dreamt him, and that meant something. His name was Spike, she didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. He scared her.
“I need...” her voice sounded vacant and weak, even to her. “…Jake? Where is he, who are you?”
The faces of the two watching her fell; she could sense the utter disbelief in her words. What did they expect from her; she wasn’t who they thought she was obviously, it was all a mistake.
“Buffy…” the girl started.
“MY NAME IS LIZ.” Her words were solid but her voice was shaking. This was just a bad dream; she was still at home, in her bed dreaming. That was it.
“Spike, where is the demon?”
“At my flat.” His voice was cold and emotionless. He wanted to rip her apart; this frail girl in front of him playing in Buffy’s body. Had he made her this?
“I’m….I’m going to make some tea…Xander...will you help me?” Dawn’s voice was quaking and she was on the edge of tears. She needed her sister back.
“Sure thing Dawnie.” The pair started off to the kitchen leaving Spike and Liz alone.
“Am I dreaming?” Her soft words knocked him from his melancholy thoughts.
“No; do you wish you were?” His rough question baffled her. This made no sense; he made no sense.
“Do you always answer a question with another question?” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them, but he didn’t take offense, he didn’t even react. “How do I know what to think unless it’s told to me?”
“What?” His head snapped up at her questions; his blue eyes were staring her down.
“If I don’t remember, who I was, does that mean I was nothing before this? Or, am I who I am because I was told this is who I was?”
“If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.”
Spike was startled to hear himself spouting poetry; that was a love long lost when he died. And although secretly he craved satisfaction from the pages of those books, it was something that he never shared, not anymore. He didn’t give Liz a chance to speak, but moved forward as if he hadn’t spoken at all.
“You were Buffy; now you are Liz. You’re right, you can’t bloody well be the person you were if you don’t remember her, but I’m telling you Liz…” Spike sneered her name like it was the foulest thing he had ever said. “…you are not Buffy, but this life you think you had with…Jake…isn’t real.”
Liz was distressed by the venom in Spike’s voice; what had she done to him to make him dislike her so?
“So if I was Buffy, why did you help me? Obviously you hate me, or something about me disgusts you. I don’t remember being her, but I was at one point! Why shouldn’t I rather be with a man who loves me and protects me, than will you crazy people who yell at me and treat me like dirt? And I’m the insane one…” She muttered the last sentence under her breath. This was all too much to take.
She was the one with amnesia, and she was supposed to feel bad about not remembering her old life? She was supposed to swallow the blame for embracing a life that was held before her? She paused from her mental debate and caught site of Spike. He was shaking; his body trembling chaotically
He looked up at her and his eyes were full of anguish. “Don’t talk about things you know nuthin’ about. Buffy was loved, and she was protected. You spend one week building a new bleedin’ life and you figure that we were the cause of this bloody catastrophe?”
She didn’t understand him; he was pained for her, for Buffy and he felt not even the slightest connect to her. He was leaving her no room to adjust, to learn.
“So you are trying to tell me here is where I am safe, with you? Then why do I dream about pain and sorrow? Why are the flickers of familiarity all coming with a side dose of fear? Is that what my life was? If I was so safe and protected, how did I get these?” Liz pointed frantically to the scars on her neck, the scars on of her hands, and then pulled up her shirt and showed him the vivid scars across her lower stomach. They were still red, and not quite healed.
“Every time I touch these I feel so sad I could die; why? Is this what loving me did?”