New Fic - The Open Halls of the Soul (1/?)
Well here it is, the beginning of the post-Apocalyptic fic that I've been threatening to post for awhile. This story takes place perhaps fifteen years post-NFA.
TITLE: The Open Halls of the Soul
AUTHOR: Cindy
RATING: R for now
SPOILERS: post-NFA
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Spike, Buffy, Spike/Buffy, others
WARNINGS: Character death, violence, disturbing post-Apocalypse-type imagery
DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play with them.
SUMMARY: Spike always said it would take the end of the world to keep him away from Buffy. And he was right.
A/N: Dedicated to (and beta'd by) kellyhk, who's always willing to egg me on
A/N2: title from the song of the same name by Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter
ETA: Chapters have been renumbered so that the prologue is now chapter 1.
"Why me?" He craned his neck to gaze up at her, nearly too angry to notice the perfect view he had of her very fine ass. Nearly.
Buffy continued climbing the ladder, checking the inventory on each shelf as she went. "Because you're the best there is. And we need more crossbows." How times had changed. She'd gone from a weapons trunk in a corner of the living room to a fully stocked warehouse. Weapons of mass demon destruction, all indexed and catalogued neat as you please. They didn't belong to her personally, of course - this was slayer central, after all. North American Division. But she was rather territorial about them. Spike thought it was cute. But he was in no mood for cute today. Apparently, she was. She looked down at him and grinned, ignoring the scowl he gave her in return. "The 'crossbow' thing is separate from the 'you're so very awesome' thing. By the way."
"So I'm off to California, whether I like it or not?"
"So, you're going to be like that, whether I like it or not?" Buffy sighed and tucked her pencil behind her ear. "Angel needs you there, Spike."
"That an order then, Slayer?"
She set her list down on one of the shelves and took a shortcut coming down, jumping off the top step to land light as a cat in front of him. She looked a little hurt. "I only give orders in the field. Because it's my job. You know that."
Spike flashed on the previous evening. On her body arched beneath him, demanding harder...deeper...more. He couldn't resist. "I seem to recall you bein' a bit bossy last night, as well. Love."
Buffy blushed prettily and sidled closer. "You love it and you know it." She grabbed his lapels, tugging him closer. "Plus, you give as good as you get, don't you?"
He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek. "Right on both counts. One of the three million reasons I don't want to leave here. Angel's got Connor with him. An' a gaggle o'slayers. You're not even sure that the Hellmouth in the late, great Sunny D will reopen anyway. Thought I closed it good and proper the first time."
Her expression darkened for a moment, as if a cloud had passed over. Buffy didn't much like thinking about their last moments in Sunnydale. She'd been having nightmares about it lately, seeing him burning up. He knew what that was like - he still dreamed about her taking a dive off that tower sometimes, too. He supposed her discomfort wasn't unexpected, given the circumstances. "They're not Slayer dreams," she'd assured him. "But just to be safe, don't wear any jewelry."
Buffy rubbed the palm of her hand absently against the leg of her jeans. She still had some faint scars there. As did he. "It's not my fault these stupid prophecies are so vague. Dawn did the best she could with the translation. Mouth of Hell, mouths of Hell - apparently the plural form is hard to differentiate in ancient...something. I failed French, what do I know?"
She didn't say what he knew she was thinking: If only Giles were still around. Not that Dawn wasn't good; in fact, she was as good with the books as the watcher had ever been, and Giles had said so himself a number of times before he'd died last year. But this was the first big thing to come along since the old man had passed, and that fact only added to Buffy's uneasiness.
"Dawn did fine. No one coulda done better." That was the truth. But Spike, too, wished that Giles or even Wesley were still around. Not that he'd ever fess up to that.
"But that's why we have to prepare for the worst, just in case. I've got Willow and Faith and my own...gaggle. Angel needs someone else who's been through this before. Someone with experience in the world-saveage department." She blinked up at him with those huge green eyes.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Slayer. Send Willow."
"I need her. Angel's got his own witch." Bitch was more like it. Angel's latest squeeze was a sorceress by the name of Miranda, and Spike couldn't stand her. Yet another reason to try and get out of this.
"Then send Faith."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"
"Not my fault he can't get along with his ex." Angel and Faith had been hot and heavy for awhile, but it had ended. Badly.
"Well, that's the way it is. Plus, I'm afraid his new girlfriend would turn Faith into a toad."
"Bollocks."
"Spike..." Her eyes filled up. "Do you really think I want you anywhere but with me? I'm trying not to be selfish, here."
He put his hands around her waist, fingertips resting on her hipbones. "Be selfish. Come on. I'll show you how. I'm right good at it," he said, tugging her closer. He knew he was making this hard on her, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
She let out a snort of laughter and let her forehead rest against his chest. "It's not that big a deal. You go help Angel. And then you come back to me. It's as simple as that."
"Famous last words."
"Promise you'll come back."
"What am I gonna do? Hang out in the desert with ol' sourpuss, his super spawn, and the wicked witch of the west? Not exactly my idea of a rockin' good time."
She raised her eyes to him. "Promise, Spike."
He kissed her lightly on the lips. "I promise I'll come back. Happy now?"
"Yes." She smiled. "You always keep your promises. Now kiss me like you mean it."
"Oh, I'll do more than that."
***
"Spike!"
He turns to find that a faintly glowing portal has sprung up behind him. It's knocked several dozen demons a car length or two, and holds the rest of them mesmerized, at least for the moment. Willow stands within it, flickering and wavering before his eyes, like when the rabbit ears used to need adjustment on his old telly. It makes her look like some phantom, and just as scary, with those coal black eyes that seem to see nothing and everything at the same time. But she's the bloody cavalry right now, and he thinks he may just kiss her the first chance he gets.
"Hold it steady, Red! I'm comin’ through."
She holds her hands out, panicked. "No! You can't. It's too unstable." She looks over her shoulder. "Plus it's...bad here."
He gets it now; she was hoping he and Angel would have things sorted in Sunnydale. How wrong she was. "Well, it's bad here too, pet!" He lost Connor an hour ago. Angel went down a while before that. He's not sure what happened to Miranda, but it can't be good. He still can't quite wrap his mind around it, and so he's not going to even try just now. "It's a lost cause here! I'm better off there. Combine forces." Yeah, some force he was. A force of one. He ducks underneath the whistling blade of a demon sword, then takes it out with an axe to the head.
"No, Spike. They're...it's...bad." He sees the tears now, surreal and somehow terrifying coming from those black, black eyes. "They're gone. They're all gone." She sobbing now, and the portal seems ready to collapse at any minute, as if her magic's all used up. He tries to make sense out of what she just said, but he's seen too much today already. She might as well be speaking Chinese.
"Willow? Get it together! Willow! Let me through!" He consciously lowers the tenor of his voice, and growls out an order. "Goddammit Willow, you listen to me, now!"
She snaps out of it a little, and steadies. He can see her concentrating, see her lips moving as he recites a spell. The portal begins to solidify, and just as he's about to step through, her eyes widen in surprise. A tiny circle of red, bright as a poppy, blooms in the center of her blouse.
"Oh..." Her eyes turn back to their natural, warm brown. Just before the light goes out of them.
As he stares in horror, she falls to her knees as if in slow motion before slumping sideways to the ground. Spike catches only a glimpse of the demon behind her, grinning and holding a bloody dagger, and the hundreds behind him, before the portal winks out of existence.
“Oh God, no. Willow...”
The Hellmouth gapes open before him, and the last of the demons that have been pouring out of it for hours pulls itself over the edge. It squints up at the moonlight, as if even that is too bright for eyes that have been in darkness for who knows how long. The one closest to him bares its yellow teeth, slavering, and Spike can smell the stench of death on its hot, humid breath when it grins at him.
Then the rest of them move in.
Chapter 2
TITLE: The Open Halls of the Soul
AUTHOR: Cindy
RATING: R for now
SPOILERS: post-NFA
PAIRING/CHARACTERS: Spike, Buffy, Spike/Buffy, others
WARNINGS: Character death, violence, disturbing post-Apocalypse-type imagery
DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play with them.
SUMMARY: Spike always said it would take the end of the world to keep him away from Buffy. And he was right.
A/N: Dedicated to (and beta'd by) kellyhk, who's always willing to egg me on
A/N2: title from the song of the same name by Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter
ETA: Chapters have been renumbered so that the prologue is now chapter 1.
"Why me?" He craned his neck to gaze up at her, nearly too angry to notice the perfect view he had of her very fine ass. Nearly.
Buffy continued climbing the ladder, checking the inventory on each shelf as she went. "Because you're the best there is. And we need more crossbows." How times had changed. She'd gone from a weapons trunk in a corner of the living room to a fully stocked warehouse. Weapons of mass demon destruction, all indexed and catalogued neat as you please. They didn't belong to her personally, of course - this was slayer central, after all. North American Division. But she was rather territorial about them. Spike thought it was cute. But he was in no mood for cute today. Apparently, she was. She looked down at him and grinned, ignoring the scowl he gave her in return. "The 'crossbow' thing is separate from the 'you're so very awesome' thing. By the way."
"So I'm off to California, whether I like it or not?"
"So, you're going to be like that, whether I like it or not?" Buffy sighed and tucked her pencil behind her ear. "Angel needs you there, Spike."
"That an order then, Slayer?"
She set her list down on one of the shelves and took a shortcut coming down, jumping off the top step to land light as a cat in front of him. She looked a little hurt. "I only give orders in the field. Because it's my job. You know that."
Spike flashed on the previous evening. On her body arched beneath him, demanding harder...deeper...more. He couldn't resist. "I seem to recall you bein' a bit bossy last night, as well. Love."
Buffy blushed prettily and sidled closer. "You love it and you know it." She grabbed his lapels, tugging him closer. "Plus, you give as good as you get, don't you?"
He ran his thumb over the curve of her cheek. "Right on both counts. One of the three million reasons I don't want to leave here. Angel's got Connor with him. An' a gaggle o'slayers. You're not even sure that the Hellmouth in the late, great Sunny D will reopen anyway. Thought I closed it good and proper the first time."
Her expression darkened for a moment, as if a cloud had passed over. Buffy didn't much like thinking about their last moments in Sunnydale. She'd been having nightmares about it lately, seeing him burning up. He knew what that was like - he still dreamed about her taking a dive off that tower sometimes, too. He supposed her discomfort wasn't unexpected, given the circumstances. "They're not Slayer dreams," she'd assured him. "But just to be safe, don't wear any jewelry."
Buffy rubbed the palm of her hand absently against the leg of her jeans. She still had some faint scars there. As did he. "It's not my fault these stupid prophecies are so vague. Dawn did the best she could with the translation. Mouth of Hell, mouths of Hell - apparently the plural form is hard to differentiate in ancient...something. I failed French, what do I know?"
She didn't say what he knew she was thinking: If only Giles were still around. Not that Dawn wasn't good; in fact, she was as good with the books as the watcher had ever been, and Giles had said so himself a number of times before he'd died last year. But this was the first big thing to come along since the old man had passed, and that fact only added to Buffy's uneasiness.
"Dawn did fine. No one coulda done better." That was the truth. But Spike, too, wished that Giles or even Wesley were still around. Not that he'd ever fess up to that.
"But that's why we have to prepare for the worst, just in case. I've got Willow and Faith and my own...gaggle. Angel needs someone else who's been through this before. Someone with experience in the world-saveage department." She blinked up at him with those huge green eyes.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Slayer. Send Willow."
"I need her. Angel's got his own witch." Bitch was more like it. Angel's latest squeeze was a sorceress by the name of Miranda, and Spike couldn't stand her. Yet another reason to try and get out of this.
"Then send Faith."
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"
"Not my fault he can't get along with his ex." Angel and Faith had been hot and heavy for awhile, but it had ended. Badly.
"Well, that's the way it is. Plus, I'm afraid his new girlfriend would turn Faith into a toad."
"Bollocks."
"Spike..." Her eyes filled up. "Do you really think I want you anywhere but with me? I'm trying not to be selfish, here."
He put his hands around her waist, fingertips resting on her hipbones. "Be selfish. Come on. I'll show you how. I'm right good at it," he said, tugging her closer. He knew he was making this hard on her, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
She let out a snort of laughter and let her forehead rest against his chest. "It's not that big a deal. You go help Angel. And then you come back to me. It's as simple as that."
"Famous last words."
"Promise you'll come back."
"What am I gonna do? Hang out in the desert with ol' sourpuss, his super spawn, and the wicked witch of the west? Not exactly my idea of a rockin' good time."
She raised her eyes to him. "Promise, Spike."
He kissed her lightly on the lips. "I promise I'll come back. Happy now?"
"Yes." She smiled. "You always keep your promises. Now kiss me like you mean it."
"Oh, I'll do more than that."
***
"Spike!"
He turns to find that a faintly glowing portal has sprung up behind him. It's knocked several dozen demons a car length or two, and holds the rest of them mesmerized, at least for the moment. Willow stands within it, flickering and wavering before his eyes, like when the rabbit ears used to need adjustment on his old telly. It makes her look like some phantom, and just as scary, with those coal black eyes that seem to see nothing and everything at the same time. But she's the bloody cavalry right now, and he thinks he may just kiss her the first chance he gets.
"Hold it steady, Red! I'm comin’ through."
She holds her hands out, panicked. "No! You can't. It's too unstable." She looks over her shoulder. "Plus it's...bad here."
He gets it now; she was hoping he and Angel would have things sorted in Sunnydale. How wrong she was. "Well, it's bad here too, pet!" He lost Connor an hour ago. Angel went down a while before that. He's not sure what happened to Miranda, but it can't be good. He still can't quite wrap his mind around it, and so he's not going to even try just now. "It's a lost cause here! I'm better off there. Combine forces." Yeah, some force he was. A force of one. He ducks underneath the whistling blade of a demon sword, then takes it out with an axe to the head.
"No, Spike. They're...it's...bad." He sees the tears now, surreal and somehow terrifying coming from those black, black eyes. "They're gone. They're all gone." She sobbing now, and the portal seems ready to collapse at any minute, as if her magic's all used up. He tries to make sense out of what she just said, but he's seen too much today already. She might as well be speaking Chinese.
"Willow? Get it together! Willow! Let me through!" He consciously lowers the tenor of his voice, and growls out an order. "Goddammit Willow, you listen to me, now!"
She snaps out of it a little, and steadies. He can see her concentrating, see her lips moving as he recites a spell. The portal begins to solidify, and just as he's about to step through, her eyes widen in surprise. A tiny circle of red, bright as a poppy, blooms in the center of her blouse.
"Oh..." Her eyes turn back to their natural, warm brown. Just before the light goes out of them.
As he stares in horror, she falls to her knees as if in slow motion before slumping sideways to the ground. Spike catches only a glimpse of the demon behind her, grinning and holding a bloody dagger, and the hundreds behind him, before the portal winks out of existence.
“Oh God, no. Willow...”
The Hellmouth gapes open before him, and the last of the demons that have been pouring out of it for hours pulls itself over the edge. It squints up at the moonlight, as if even that is too bright for eyes that have been in darkness for who knows how long. The one closest to him bares its yellow teeth, slavering, and Spike can smell the stench of death on its hot, humid breath when it grins at him.
Then the rest of them move in.
Chapter 2