Beyond Truth and Lies – Prologue

My time has come… I won’t say how much I have stressed over my day, but boy am I relieved to finally get it over with. I have a short fic (6 chapters and prologue) and another short that I will post at the end.

Title: Beyond Truth and Lies
Rating: Strong R for final chapter
Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy
Timeline: Post Chosen
Summary: When time refuses to heal her broken heart, a desperate Buffy asks Willow to lend a magical hand. But when she gets her wish, Buffy is forced to realize that there is truly something worse than losing the one you love.
A/N: Many many thanks to hollydb and schehrezade_1 for betaing and keeping me on track. And a special thank you to spikeslovebite for always being there when I needed it.

Mandi is my hero. Thank you vampkiss for this gorgeous banner.

The heat of scattered fires skipped along the breeze, lifting the tail of his coat with an enthusiasm born from success. Spike was ebullient; the power of mystical blood thundering through his veins, diverting his attention from the scattered Chinese offerings running in frantic fear around him.

Food.

For the first time in twenty years, he couldn’t see the food. He cut a swathe through the screaming rebels, squeezed in between the two women of his unlife and floated on a euphoric high. He’d never experienced anything like it. Never known the power that came from usurping the other male of your family with the one thing he’d been afraid to do.

Angelus. The paternal leader of their little tribe, yet he’d not risked anything in his unlife before. But Spike caught the look on his face, the blend of fascination and pride with the nasty edge of revulsion. It was confusing, and frustrating. When would it be enough?

Just minutes before he had been writhing on the dirt floor with Dru, creating a memory that he would be proud of for the rest of his days. A memory that would set him up as a vampire to be reckoned with. Make his new name one that was recognised in all corners of the earth. Make him more than just Angelus’s childe. Drusilla’s nurse and playmate. It gave him prominence.

Burying his fangs deep in the Slayer’s neck would forever make him. He’d met his purpose, found his niche and it was a glorious discovery. And the best part was, he could rediscover his strength over and over again. Because Slayers would never run out. They would always be around to be sought, always be ready to be killed. Always be looking for that one fight that would give them the bliss of peace.

Spike almost couldn’t bear the high that kept him springing on his feet. He walked on a thread of dreams, of destiny, and could feel his connection already to something big. He had consumed the magic of a special one, had drained her of her life as another was busily being called. He’d skipped the easy death, a quick snap of the neck, to take her into his mouth, the silkiness of her red liquid life sliding like love down his throat. He knew that the experience would catapult him into something momentous, drive him along a path that had been without direction until he took that risk. Taken his existence into his own hands.

William the Bloody would never hide, would never be a coward, would never fail even if he was dusted. Unlike Angelus, who scurried like a terrified mouse whenever Spike stirred the crowds to a roaring retribution. It was fun. It was game. It was life. Something Angelus seemed to have suddenly lost.

They probably looked aimless, but it didn’t matter to Spike. Not now that he had a direction to head his unlife in. He’d see all parts of the world, taste all manner of fledgling women in his desire to meet and best them. He would take them down, one by one, or dust in the process. It was all or nothing for him—the passion of such a beautiful purpose flooded his senses and he knew that whatever occurred from now would bear the stamp of his greatness.

He could barely see his family, even though they stormed through Beijing beside him. Stood on the edge as he vibrated with power. Aimless yet charged, they strutted through the chaos, not quite searching for a place to rest, but gravitating toward it like was there right.

A feast later and they laughed and fucked the night away, relaxing in the secretiveness of a stone dwelling, the important people left dumped in their own blood. The grin wouldn’t fall from his face and as his eyes finally lulled shut, Spike replayed the fight, reveled in his victory, and made promises that his future would be everything his past was not.

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/99224.html