By: Kereia
Taking a deep breath, which I regretted instantly, I felt the small particles invade my lungs as I forced my stake through another vampire who had come rushing at me. I could not resist the urge to cough as another cloud of dust settled on my face and clothes. My eyes were watering and my muscles let me feel the exhaustion that had slowly began to creep into my body. I had no idea how long I had been standing in the hall, fighting the horde of vampires that called this place their home. For all I knew it had been hours.
Willow had actually stumbled over the lair by accident. She was on her way home from Tara's room when she saw two vampires drag a college student behind the bushes. The witch had followed them, knowing that she did not have the time to contact me or Giles. She had been too far away to save the young man, but she had seen them disappear in the old warehouse that stood just outside the campus grounds. When she had peered through a stained and fractured window into the murky depth of the building, she had seen the dead boy on the floor and at least two dozen vampires gathered around him.
Realizing that she could not do anything for now, she had hurried back to Tara's room and called Giles' place, knowing that I would be there to give my former Watcher a report on my patrol and start arguing with Spike, who was once again residing at Giles' place.
Xander had been notified seconds later and about thirty minutes after Willow had first seen the vampires, the whole Scooby Gang, including Anya, Tara and Spike had been assembled in front of the warehouse. Upon entering we had realized that we were apparently interrupting some kind of ritual involving the dead body, candles, herbs and blood. A lot of blood. Ten vamps had been standing around the corpse, chanting. Another ten stood above them on the overhead beams that ran along the tin roof and seven more stood guard at the perimeter of the circles.
Those were the ones to die first by the combined onslaught of the our arsenal. But the fighting was not quite that easy. For some reason these vampires were a lot more determined than the usual fledglings I staked in the cemeteries of Sunnydale. They were stronger for once, faster and resilient, giving the Scoobies and me a hard time in dispatching them. Spike was the only one fighting hand to hand beside me after I had shouted for them to take cover and take out as many as they could with the crossbows.
Willow and Tara were trying to help by conjuring small fireballs which they hurled at the vampires, burning them to a crisp. Effective as the method was, it cost the two witches a lot of strength and concentration and more often than not the magical flames missed their targets.
I whirled around just in time to evade a high kick that had been aimed at my head. I ducked and caught the vampire's foot, twisting it sharply until I heard the sickening sound of snapping bone. The creature yelped in pain and fell backwards while I was already blocking the punch of another attacker. I could see Spike holding his own just a few steps away from me and allowed myself a small smile of grim satisfaction.
After his betrayal one year ago, he had been as reluctant to stick around as we had been to let him live. I had been in favor of staking him, but for some reason I had not done it. No one had, despite our reservations about the blond vampire. I often wondered why, but never came up with a satisfying answer.
A punch to my lower back sent me stumbling forward and I fell to my hands and knees. Using my momentum I rolled to the side and jumped back to my feet, while my opponent was busy kicking the spot in which I had lain only a fraction of a second earlier. Without hesitation I slammed the stake in my hand into his unbeating heart. I did not even wait for him to crumble to dust, I was already back in the fray, fighting for all I was worth. After several more minutes I realized that the vampires' ranks had noticeably thinned. There were only five of them left: three trading punches with me, while the other two had focused their attention on Spike.
I permitted myself a small frown, wondering why they had not turned tail yet. By this time it was obvious that they did not stand a chance to make it out of here alive or undead, but they apparently had no intention of giving up. After dusting another vampire, I saw out of the corner of my eyes a crossbow bolt embed itself into another creature's back, leaving me with only one opponent. With a confident smile on my face I turned towards him, rasing my weapon, when I sensed another vampire approaching me from behind.
I quickly decked the vamp in front of me and followed with a high kick that sent him sprawling backwards. Having gained enough time to move, I whirled around and plunged my stake into the vampire who was standing right behind me. The wood sliced through the black shirt covering his torso and embedded itself in the firm chest underneath.
I smiled and glanced upwards at the vampire's face, when it happened.
* * * * * * * * * *
Did you ever experience a moment of utter calm?
I'm talking about that split-second of silence before the avalanche under which you're standing breaks loose and buries you forever. The moment when you realize that the ice you're walking on is too thin to support your weight and will give any second to let your drown and freeze to death in the icy water that lurks underneath the shiny surface.
It's that one moment of utter and complete horror. The moment in which you realize exactly what's going to happen just as you know that there is nothing you can possibly do to prevent it. That split second when the terror of helplessness crashes over you, turning seconds into hours, stretching time into eternity in a mockery of hope. Twisting your mind into believing that there is still a way out. That if you do the right thing, right now you can still escape ... and live.
At that moment time stands still. Motion does not exist in that small world of frozen life. Calm and absolute horror are dancing like well acquainted lovers, pulling you deeper and deeper into their deceptive embrace. You forget where you are. You forget your name and then you forget any last remaining sense of self you had up until that moment. The only thing you are ware of becomes that thing inside of you that is twisting and eating away underneath your skin, growing ... building.
It's the terror, the desperation. The urge to scream becomes more and more overwhelming, and as you try to push the last fraction of sweet denial from your mind, you open your mouth in shock and need, but no sound escapes your lips. Your lungs are crushed underneath an unbearable weight, your vocal cords do not heed your command to function properly. No matter how much you need to vocalize your fear, you are unable to do anything but watch.
And what would you say if you could speak? Would you plead for help? Would you confess all the things you regret and hope for forgiveness? Would you shout a last curse about the unfairness of life? Would you whisper a prayer? Or would you simply scream at the top of your lungs, too numb to articulate words?
What would you do?
Whatever it is it does not really matter I suppose. Because you can't. You can't scream. You only feel it building inside of you. The unuttered sound echoes through your body, gaining power ... gaining volume. And it keeps on growing ... always growing until you think that it is going to tear you apart. But it doesn't.
Because all moments, even this one, pass. Time moves on, the world continues to turn, but _you_ will never be the same. Not if you should, despite all odds, survive.
* * * * * * * * * *
So when I looked into Spike's eyes, time froze. Covering everything around me with a fine layer of ice, it expanded, sparing neither object nor human being. Even the dust that still had not settled completely was frozen, floating above the ground. I could even swear that I saw frost patterns inside the sparkling blue orbs of the vampire in front of me.
His eyes were wide, a perfect picture of shock and agony. The shadows that the few candles on the floor cast over his features pronounced his cheekbones even more while drowning out different planes of his handsome face, giving him the appearance of an abstract painting. That was the only thing I really saw. The world around me had ceased to exist when my eyes recognized his face.
The only thought that was rushing through my mind was a question. Why? Why did this happen? Why was I trapped in that moment between eternities, a moment that was reserved for those facing death?
The answer came to me with a sudden clarity that left me weak and trembling, doubting my own confidence. I was facing death. Not because Spike would die. Not because technically he was already dead, but because I knew that if he were to die, part of me would crumble and fade along with him.
I had no explanation for this knowledge or for the emotions that came with it. Even now, I cannot tell you where they came from. All I know is that in this moment I realized that I did not want him to die.
It is kind of ironic actually. The two of us share a history that is only surpassed in it's amounts of love, hate and pain by the one I share with Angel. We have both experienced so much pain and rage, so much grief and torment in the four years we've known each other that we have every reason to hate each other. Yet, I don't. I know him better than I know myself and, scary as it might sound, I understand him. I understood why he allied himself with me to defeat Acathla and Angelus. I understood that what he did was out of love for Drusilla. I understood his actions when he came back to Sunnydale, drunk and heartbroken over his breakup with the female vampire. And I understood why he betrayed us when Adam offered him a chance to get the chip out of his head.
He might be evil and not in possession of a soul, but his actions are all too human. Despite common opinion I know that he does not kill or torture without a reason. Granted the reason might be that someone spilled beer over his beloved duster, but most of the time he is motivated by the same things that control human actions. The need for love. The necessity of survival. Two things that command all of us. He might be ruthless and blood thirsty, but he is unlike any vampire I have ever met. Among all those demons that I fight every night, he is unique. Not the only unique one, because Angel's darker side had made quite an impression on me as well and not in a good way, let me tell you that.
No, Spike's uniqueness lies in his humanity. In his ability to love and care. And in his knowledge of people. For him, they are more than food. He knows them and relates to them, even though he would never admit it. He can get inside your head better than his loony girlfriend ever could. He knows how to push everyone's buttons, including mine. Because you see, I'm not the only one of us who knows her mortal enemy better than herself. He knows me, too.
But even this ... this strange and fragile bond we share does not explain why I felt dead inside when I realized that my stake had not found an attacking vampire as I had expected, but him. And as I said, I cannot explain it. I just know. I know that I would grieve. I know that I would cry and the scariest thing is that I know that I would miss him.
And it tore me apart to know that I killed him. That I took away my chance to ... to what? Again I cannot tell you. Not because I don't know, but because I cannot allow myself to finish that thought. It is too dangerous. Too destructive. And yet ... so very tempting.
I just know that I will never forgive myself for this. With his death I would lose a part of me that I need to survive. A part of me that is too important, too precious and fragile to survive without him. The thing that scares me the most though is that once I follow him into death, maybe a week or maybe a year from now, I could forget him. The mere thought of not being able to remember his face, his voice or his hands causes my mind to shatter. And finally there is this need to scream ... to scream loud and long, to let the world in on the despair that consumes my heart and my entire mind. But I can't.
I choke on that need, on the tears and grief when suddenly it's over. The moment is broken when something, the last vampire I had knocked down just seconds ago, slams into me, causing me to fall forward just before a crossbow bolt assures his second and final death. My shoulder connects with the bond vampire's chest, throwing him off balance. Together we fall towards the ground, but instead of landing on a pile of dust I feel his strong body underneath me.
When I raise my head to meet his gaze I can see confusion, fear and relief rush over his features in short succession. Our eyes lock for the briefest of instants before we both look at the stake producing from his chest.
"Bloody Hell, Slayer!" he exclaims, before he lets his head fall back onto the ground, his eyes closing for a second as he takes a deep unneeded breath.
That's when I realize that I missed. I don't know if by a millimeter or an inch, and it does not matter. I missed. He is still here, annoying and gorgeous as ever. And I still have that chance. That chance to...change. To make things right. To think about what just happened and learn.
I missed.
End