Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Post Obitum
PART 2
It was a routine now-to come home from a boring day at work (which consisted of sitting behind a huge desk listening to the complaints and praises of the demon population in the greater London area, then eating lunch, then going back behind the desk and repeating the procedure with the lesser towns, cities, villages, and suburbs of the UK), stare blankly at a state-of-the-art holographic television and it's recycled programs (/Comrades/ was the regurgitated form of Friends/, Dick Clark still hosted the New Year's celebration, and somehow Law & Order/ was still on), eat a freshly donated dinner, and then stare blankly at his ceiling as he fruitlessly tried to fall asleep.
Truly, Spike hadn't slept in ten years.
So there he hung in repose, in a cocoon of white satin with a red canopy looming overhead. He'd already counted the vertical stitches in this canopy (ah, the wonders of vampire sight), and he felt like saving the horizontal for later. Time ticked by so slowly that if it seemed as if it was caught in a flood of molasses--thickening on top until it all just congealed and stopped. Spike felt that way often--that time had stopped. Perhaps it had something to do with his lack of the need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide. Perhaps old age was finally catching up to him. Perhaps he was hallucinating. He didn't know.
Spike blinked the feeling away and twisted in his empty bed, ignoring the way the covers tangled around him. He hated being alone. Loneliness and silence--they were the two things that were really starting to grate away at his already-frayed nerve endings. Essentially, insomnia brought this on. Not being able to sleep gave him too much time to think.
"I'm in pain," he mumbled. Sod, how long ago was that? 1999? I just remembered a line from a movie in 1999, but I can't remember what my sister looked like? /He laughed then, bitterly. /I just need to find some testicular cancer support group thing and go have a good cry. And hug a man named Bob. Maybe I'll feel better about myself then.
By this time, he'd broken the alarm clock he'd been clenching in his hands. He hadn't even noticed that he'd grabbed it, but just before the holographic display winked out with a pitiful whine, he saw the time. 8:45 AM.
"Sod," Spike grumbled and stepped out of bed--suddenly greeted by a smiling vengeance demon. "You're early," he stated, not caring that he was naked in front of Anya. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, anyways.
"So, I like to surprise people," she said, raising one eyebrow as he bent down to grab a pair of clean pants. Even though he had automated closets and everything, he still threw all of his clothes on the floor. Men.
"Stop gawking. Why are you early--really?" he zipped his fly and worked at his belt without looking at it. God, I want a cigarette/, was the first random thought of the day. /Too bad smoking was banned in 2135.
Anya sighed and sat down on his rumpled bed, picking at a loose thread. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure if you're up to it."
"Of course I'm up to it. I've got nothing to do now, and I kinda miss the good ole days," Spike grabbed a random shirt and quickly buttoned it up and tucked it into his pants.
"I meant seeing her again. You've seen her die, Spike. It's kind of a hard thing to do--going back in time to see someone you care for--all vibrant and alive," Anya said. She clenched her hands and tried to swallow the lump that had gathered in her throat.
He had paused in his preparations to listen, and now looked at Anya's saddened face. "You're not just talking about her, I can tell."
"Of course not. I'm talking about Xander, too. I mean, when we go back, we'll literally be replacing our past selves. They won't exist anymore," she frowned and traced a design on his pillowcase with her index finger. "I'm not sure how it works, but that's what I've been told. We can't come back to this."
Spike had been holding a wristwatch, but as soon as Anya said this, he smashed it against the hardwood floor. She jumped at the unexpected action and gazed at his furious form with wide eyes. "And why the /bloody hell /should we want to?! It's bleak and lonely and no one we knew is alive or even un-alive right now! I lost my sire and grand-sire in this time--both went stark raving crackers and went for walks in the sun while I pranced around with this ruddy ring on my finger! My only human friends died in old-folks homes with only a vampire to keep them company. Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see those two age and whither away while I stayed like /this/?" Spike jabbed a finger at his own face and came close to poking himself in the eye, but he didn't notice.
"I outlived those who I wasn't supposed to, and I have nothing anymore. I want to go back. I hate this world. If we change this one thing, then maybe I can keep from...from..."
"From drowning in the loneliness?" Anya whispered, scooting a pair of his shoes out from under his bed with her toes and wringing her hands together.
"Yes," he said and silently accepted the shoes. He remembered socks just before he shoved his bare feet in them and actually retrieved a pair from his dresser. "What day, exactly, are we going back to?"
Anya brightened at the change in moods. Spike didn't sound so depressed now. "Just before Thanksgiving."
"Pre or Post Initiative kidnapping?"
"Pre. The Council didn't want you to have to go through the whole chip thing again, so you can avoid being caught this time."
Spike nodded and then put his shoes on over his socked feet. "Is it time?" he asked.
"Yep. Sorry, I don't have breakfast for you, by the way. We'll reach DC in about thirty minutes by pod. I'll go over things in more depth on the way. What you and I have to do, that is," Anya scooted off Spike's bed and watched him gather up a few things to bring with him (including his suit jacket, hat, and sunglasses) before she grabbed him by the elbow and forced him into the old-fashioned stairwell. His mansion was one of few that still had stairs in it. The human and demon servants hated them. The robots could have cared less.
"When will you be coming back, Master William?" the gardener (a Browny) asked as both demons passed him. In the late-morning sun, his dark brown skin was still tinted a bit green--the after-effect of consuming what he weeded. He was already sweating sap in the heat, as well.
"Probably never, Thomas. Have fun while you can," Spike said, squinting and sliding his sunglasses on as he and Anya climbed into the transport pod. Thomas grinned toothily, showing off his mouth filled with only molars, and waved goodbye as they took off. Inside, Spike tilted his hat so that the brim blocked his view of the scenery that was beginning to whiz past.
"Have I mentioned that I hate these things?" Spike asked Anya as he tried to settle his stomach as the contraption lurched into high speed. Anya just laughed.
*
President Marks was gearing herself up for a persuasive speech in case William Merriday backed out. She tried to concentrate on what to tell him, but her mind kept wandering back to his name. Merriday//...Merry and day. What a crappy name for a vampire. No wonder he always winces in the Council meetings.
"President Marks, we're here," Anyanka announced as she waltzed gracefully into the Oval Office. She had that vacant look on her face again--the one that was usually present after reliving part of her 'glory' days. To quote her, "being a nice demon sucked." She must have been discussing just that on the ride across the Atlantic.
"Greetings, Anyanka, Master...William."
He visibly relaxed as he heard this.
"I'll cut right to the chase," she stood from behind her huge desk and headed for the door that led to the main corridor. "If you'll follow me."
They did (secret service men in tow), and walked with brisk paces to match her long-legged gait. Spike had an easier time catching up with her, and Anya let out a frustrated growl followed by: "why can't I just float there?"
They speed walked all the way down to the basement and followed President Lydia Marks into a hermetically sealed room that was full to the brim with technological mumbo-jumbo that Spike was familiar with and Anya wasn't. Which was surprising considering: Miss "I-am-an-American-and-citizen-of-the-times-I-also-own-a-computer-and-lots-of-other-hi-tech-stuff" was supposed to know more about that kind of stuff than him. Well, when you have insomnia, you tinker. And when you tinker, you discover. And when you discover...well...you ask Willow what the hell that window means and she teaches you how to hack. And so Spike already knew what the time machine looked like and what all the silly little knobs and whistles meant. Thus, he wasn't impressed and Anya was.
"Wow. This is impressive," said Anya. She ran a finger along the side of one of the translucent bubble chair and admired the machinery that controlled it. "Lots of wires," she commented.
"Right. Just sign these forms and you'll both be on your way back to the year 2000," President Marks shoved two identical sheets of paper/plastic composites into their hands, and Anya signed immediately. Lydia didn't expect Spike to do the same, and therefore launched into her speech automatically.
"Master William," the President began, "this is the only way to stop what's about to happen. It's what our researchers have deemed an 'Un-natural Apocalypse.' It's imperative that both of you return to the past to get this done."
Spike raised an eyebrow, looked at his signed waver, and handed it to Marks. "So... Sit in the chair, strap in, ignore the sudden loss of feeling in my stomach and hang on for a rough landing, eh?"
"That's about it," a nearly invisible scientist said.
"Sounds like a pod ride, huh, Spike?" Anya grinned. Spike grinned back, but with much less humor. Nevertheless, they climbed in separate contraptions, strapped in, and waited.
"Good luck," were the last words from President Lydia Marks as the technicians counted down. When they reached 'one,' both Anya and Spike lost feeling in their stomachs.
*
A bright flash of light enveloped Restview Cemetery at approximately 12 AM, and two bodies hit the ground with cries of uneven pain. The male body had landed stomach-first on a tombstone, and the female tumbled on top of him. The sound of cracking ribs was drowned out by his cries of pain, and she reached around to grab his open mouth and shush him.
"Shut up! You want those commando idiots to hear you?!"
Thankfully, her hand muffled a rather blush-worthy curse.
"Okay. It's late, right?"
Nod.
"Then the gang may be on patrol. So...go to your crypt and wait for me tomorrow morning. I need to go find Xander."
Spike nodded again, and Anya slowly climbed off him.
"Need help getting there?" she asked.
Spike gave an unnecessary gasp. "Yeah... Just gimme a little blood and--"
"Huh-uh. If Harmony is in your crypt, drain her. I don't think either of us wants Xander asking questions," Anya slapped his outreaching hand and clucked her tongue. That was something she'd learned from Giles. "Anyway, get some rest and I'll have an apartment set up for you by tomorrow afternoon."
Grumbling, Spike stood from his prone position and held out his hand.
"Good luck," he said.
Anya took his hand and shook. "Good luck," she replied. With one last look, they parted ways.
To Be Continued...
It was a routine now-to come home from a boring day at work (which consisted of sitting behind a huge desk listening to the complaints and praises of the demon population in the greater London area, then eating lunch, then going back behind the desk and repeating the procedure with the lesser towns, cities, villages, and suburbs of the UK), stare blankly at a state-of-the-art holographic television and it's recycled programs (/Comrades/ was the regurgitated form of Friends/, Dick Clark still hosted the New Year's celebration, and somehow Law & Order/ was still on), eat a freshly donated dinner, and then stare blankly at his ceiling as he fruitlessly tried to fall asleep.
Truly, Spike hadn't slept in ten years.
So there he hung in repose, in a cocoon of white satin with a red canopy looming overhead. He'd already counted the vertical stitches in this canopy (ah, the wonders of vampire sight), and he felt like saving the horizontal for later. Time ticked by so slowly that if it seemed as if it was caught in a flood of molasses--thickening on top until it all just congealed and stopped. Spike felt that way often--that time had stopped. Perhaps it had something to do with his lack of the need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide. Perhaps old age was finally catching up to him. Perhaps he was hallucinating. He didn't know.
Spike blinked the feeling away and twisted in his empty bed, ignoring the way the covers tangled around him. He hated being alone. Loneliness and silence--they were the two things that were really starting to grate away at his already-frayed nerve endings. Essentially, insomnia brought this on. Not being able to sleep gave him too much time to think.
"I'm in pain," he mumbled. Sod, how long ago was that? 1999? I just remembered a line from a movie in 1999, but I can't remember what my sister looked like? /He laughed then, bitterly. /I just need to find some testicular cancer support group thing and go have a good cry. And hug a man named Bob. Maybe I'll feel better about myself then.
By this time, he'd broken the alarm clock he'd been clenching in his hands. He hadn't even noticed that he'd grabbed it, but just before the holographic display winked out with a pitiful whine, he saw the time. 8:45 AM.
"Sod," Spike grumbled and stepped out of bed--suddenly greeted by a smiling vengeance demon. "You're early," he stated, not caring that he was naked in front of Anya. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, anyways.
"So, I like to surprise people," she said, raising one eyebrow as he bent down to grab a pair of clean pants. Even though he had automated closets and everything, he still threw all of his clothes on the floor. Men.
"Stop gawking. Why are you early--really?" he zipped his fly and worked at his belt without looking at it. God, I want a cigarette/, was the first random thought of the day. /Too bad smoking was banned in 2135.
Anya sighed and sat down on his rumpled bed, picking at a loose thread. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure if you're up to it."
"Of course I'm up to it. I've got nothing to do now, and I kinda miss the good ole days," Spike grabbed a random shirt and quickly buttoned it up and tucked it into his pants.
"I meant seeing her again. You've seen her die, Spike. It's kind of a hard thing to do--going back in time to see someone you care for--all vibrant and alive," Anya said. She clenched her hands and tried to swallow the lump that had gathered in her throat.
He had paused in his preparations to listen, and now looked at Anya's saddened face. "You're not just talking about her, I can tell."
"Of course not. I'm talking about Xander, too. I mean, when we go back, we'll literally be replacing our past selves. They won't exist anymore," she frowned and traced a design on his pillowcase with her index finger. "I'm not sure how it works, but that's what I've been told. We can't come back to this."
Spike had been holding a wristwatch, but as soon as Anya said this, he smashed it against the hardwood floor. She jumped at the unexpected action and gazed at his furious form with wide eyes. "And why the /bloody hell /should we want to?! It's bleak and lonely and no one we knew is alive or even un-alive right now! I lost my sire and grand-sire in this time--both went stark raving crackers and went for walks in the sun while I pranced around with this ruddy ring on my finger! My only human friends died in old-folks homes with only a vampire to keep them company. Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see those two age and whither away while I stayed like /this/?" Spike jabbed a finger at his own face and came close to poking himself in the eye, but he didn't notice.
"I outlived those who I wasn't supposed to, and I have nothing anymore. I want to go back. I hate this world. If we change this one thing, then maybe I can keep from...from..."
"From drowning in the loneliness?" Anya whispered, scooting a pair of his shoes out from under his bed with her toes and wringing her hands together.
"Yes," he said and silently accepted the shoes. He remembered socks just before he shoved his bare feet in them and actually retrieved a pair from his dresser. "What day, exactly, are we going back to?"
Anya brightened at the change in moods. Spike didn't sound so depressed now. "Just before Thanksgiving."
"Pre or Post Initiative kidnapping?"
"Pre. The Council didn't want you to have to go through the whole chip thing again, so you can avoid being caught this time."
Spike nodded and then put his shoes on over his socked feet. "Is it time?" he asked.
"Yep. Sorry, I don't have breakfast for you, by the way. We'll reach DC in about thirty minutes by pod. I'll go over things in more depth on the way. What you and I have to do, that is," Anya scooted off Spike's bed and watched him gather up a few things to bring with him (including his suit jacket, hat, and sunglasses) before she grabbed him by the elbow and forced him into the old-fashioned stairwell. His mansion was one of few that still had stairs in it. The human and demon servants hated them. The robots could have cared less.
"When will you be coming back, Master William?" the gardener (a Browny) asked as both demons passed him. In the late-morning sun, his dark brown skin was still tinted a bit green--the after-effect of consuming what he weeded. He was already sweating sap in the heat, as well.
"Probably never, Thomas. Have fun while you can," Spike said, squinting and sliding his sunglasses on as he and Anya climbed into the transport pod. Thomas grinned toothily, showing off his mouth filled with only molars, and waved goodbye as they took off. Inside, Spike tilted his hat so that the brim blocked his view of the scenery that was beginning to whiz past.
"Have I mentioned that I hate these things?" Spike asked Anya as he tried to settle his stomach as the contraption lurched into high speed. Anya just laughed.
*
President Marks was gearing herself up for a persuasive speech in case William Merriday backed out. She tried to concentrate on what to tell him, but her mind kept wandering back to his name. Merriday//...Merry and day. What a crappy name for a vampire. No wonder he always winces in the Council meetings.
"President Marks, we're here," Anyanka announced as she waltzed gracefully into the Oval Office. She had that vacant look on her face again--the one that was usually present after reliving part of her 'glory' days. To quote her, "being a nice demon sucked." She must have been discussing just that on the ride across the Atlantic.
"Greetings, Anyanka, Master...William."
He visibly relaxed as he heard this.
"I'll cut right to the chase," she stood from behind her huge desk and headed for the door that led to the main corridor. "If you'll follow me."
They did (secret service men in tow), and walked with brisk paces to match her long-legged gait. Spike had an easier time catching up with her, and Anya let out a frustrated growl followed by: "why can't I just float there?"
They speed walked all the way down to the basement and followed President Lydia Marks into a hermetically sealed room that was full to the brim with technological mumbo-jumbo that Spike was familiar with and Anya wasn't. Which was surprising considering: Miss "I-am-an-American-and-citizen-of-the-times-I-also-own-a-computer-and-lots-of-other-hi-tech-stuff" was supposed to know more about that kind of stuff than him. Well, when you have insomnia, you tinker. And when you tinker, you discover. And when you discover...well...you ask Willow what the hell that window means and she teaches you how to hack. And so Spike already knew what the time machine looked like and what all the silly little knobs and whistles meant. Thus, he wasn't impressed and Anya was.
"Wow. This is impressive," said Anya. She ran a finger along the side of one of the translucent bubble chair and admired the machinery that controlled it. "Lots of wires," she commented.
"Right. Just sign these forms and you'll both be on your way back to the year 2000," President Marks shoved two identical sheets of paper/plastic composites into their hands, and Anya signed immediately. Lydia didn't expect Spike to do the same, and therefore launched into her speech automatically.
"Master William," the President began, "this is the only way to stop what's about to happen. It's what our researchers have deemed an 'Un-natural Apocalypse.' It's imperative that both of you return to the past to get this done."
Spike raised an eyebrow, looked at his signed waver, and handed it to Marks. "So... Sit in the chair, strap in, ignore the sudden loss of feeling in my stomach and hang on for a rough landing, eh?"
"That's about it," a nearly invisible scientist said.
"Sounds like a pod ride, huh, Spike?" Anya grinned. Spike grinned back, but with much less humor. Nevertheless, they climbed in separate contraptions, strapped in, and waited.
"Good luck," were the last words from President Lydia Marks as the technicians counted down. When they reached 'one,' both Anya and Spike lost feeling in their stomachs.
*
A bright flash of light enveloped Restview Cemetery at approximately 12 AM, and two bodies hit the ground with cries of uneven pain. The male body had landed stomach-first on a tombstone, and the female tumbled on top of him. The sound of cracking ribs was drowned out by his cries of pain, and she reached around to grab his open mouth and shush him.
"Shut up! You want those commando idiots to hear you?!"
Thankfully, her hand muffled a rather blush-worthy curse.
"Okay. It's late, right?"
Nod.
"Then the gang may be on patrol. So...go to your crypt and wait for me tomorrow morning. I need to go find Xander."
Spike nodded again, and Anya slowly climbed off him.
"Need help getting there?" she asked.
Spike gave an unnecessary gasp. "Yeah... Just gimme a little blood and--"
"Huh-uh. If Harmony is in your crypt, drain her. I don't think either of us wants Xander asking questions," Anya slapped his outreaching hand and clucked her tongue. That was something she'd learned from Giles. "Anyway, get some rest and I'll have an apartment set up for you by tomorrow afternoon."
Grumbling, Spike stood from his prone position and held out his hand.
"Good luck," he said.
Anya took his hand and shook. "Good luck," she replied. With one last look, they parted ways.
To Be Continued...
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