Sonnet 92
Disclaimer: The characters used in this story belong to Joss Wedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and Fox.
January 23rd. It was the day I died.
As I sit here alone in the darkened room, I consider the irony. On the day he came into life, I died. In fact, it isn't really ironic at all. Just unusual. Rumours of my death had probably reached the ears of my friends by now. They could mourn for me all they wanted. He would mourn for me.
I really did love him, you know.
That isn't the point. The point is, I'm dead, and he's alive, and it's all screwed up. I can cry at the bitter irony of it all, and as I sob, the memories come flooding back. I don't try to stop them. I can't.
*****
"But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine."
His clear voice rang out across the still night air, and I was tempted to just sit down and listen for a while. But that would have looked to a stranger as though I were listening enraptured to a lover's words, and I didn't want anyone to mistake the complexity of our relationship for anything as simple as love. Or even hate. So I walked towards him, and spoke.
"That's really pretty."
He whirled around, the small book in his hand slammed shut as he did so. I waited for the smirk and the familiar glint to light his eyes, but neither appeared.
"It's Shakespeare. Sonnet 92."
I almost felt like laughing out loud. Instead a smile crossed my face. He frowned.
"What?"
"You. You're so…strange."
"You always were one for the compliments Slayer."
"No. I mean…you read Shakespeare. And you like it. And you also like killing people, inventively."
"What's so strange about that?"
"Well, Shakespeare was all about love and poetry."
"Who's saying I'm not all about love and poetry?"
"And death. You're all about death."
Then he just looked at me, a long look, that was full of meaning I couldn't quite understand. I suddenly felt the cold, as if everything was more real than it had been a moment before. He was all about death. Love and poetry. It was a dangerous mix, a fact I'd do well to remember. I shivered, and it was his turn to smile.
"Go home Slayer. November wind can be bloody freezing."
I felt angry then. Anger was good.
"I can stay here if I like. It's not that cold."
I shivered again in spite of myself, and he made a show of pulling the long leather duster more tightly around his body. Then he shrugged, and walked away.
Leaving me to shiver as it started to snow.
*****
That had been one of the longest nights of my life. I dusted a few vampires, then the bitter cold sent me home.
If I'd only known how things would change. I would have done things differently. And the sobs have stopped, but the tears lie behind my eyelids. Now I've started a story, I must end it.
It's not a happy ending.
*****
Willow snorted into her coffee. Well, it was more of a double frappucino with extra cream and mocha chocolate sprinkles, but I'll call it coffee.
"Wait a minute. Riley actually dressed as Santa?"
I smiled.
"Yep. Beard and all. It was kinda unusual. Definitely not my all time favourite kinky costume."
"He didn't…"
"Joke, Will. It was strictly for the benefit of the kiddies."
Willow nodded knowingly. "I bet."
I raised an eyebrow, then my eyes caught view of the clock hanging on the back wall of the Starbucks.
"Whoops. Gotta go."
Willow looked interested. "Where?"
I rolled my eyes. "Early patrol. The Fang Gang have been rising as soon as sun sets. No rest for the Slayer."
We said our goodbyes, and I left Starbucks, walking briskly. The warmth of the café was soon just a distant memory, and the cold invaded once more. It reminded me of that strange night almost a month ago when I had come across a vampire reading a sonnet in the freshly fallen snow.
Time had passed quickly, and Christmas Eve was upon us already. The season to be jolly. I wasn't, particularly. Riley and I were going through the motions, but I didn't feel anything deeper. Maybe I didn't need to. I didn't need another love to end all time. I didn't want someone who I'd die for.
"Hi there."
I turned around. Standing behind me was a guy. Pretty cute. I decided to entertain his conversation a little while longer.
"Hi."
"It's not safe for a young woman to be out after dark."
I rolled my eyes.
"Yes it is."
He grinned. "I don't think so."
And as his face twisted and changed, I shrugged. "It is if you happen to be the Slayer."
The yellow eyes widened in puzzlement. "What's a Slayer?"
"I don't have enough time to explain. Too cold." I explained, delivering a roundhouse kick to his midriff. He flew backwards, and hit the pavement. Instead of staking him, I put my foot to his neck. I don't know what possessed me. I pushed down harder and harder, his eyes rolling backwards in pain. Then I heard a satisfying crack. I turned away, and started to walk again.
Someone emerged from the shadows. I paused, then resumed walking when I realised it was Spike. He quickened his own pace, and caught up with me.
"Slayer."
"Spike."
I knew he'd be joining me for patrol that night. He had done so for the past few weeks, and I liked the company, however much I hated the vampire.
We entered the cemetery, and I felt like I could kill anything that night. Slay anything. This time when the bitter wind rushed towards me, I opened my mouth wide and swallowed it whole. It exhilarated.
"Why did you do that?"
I shrugged. "Because. It felt kinda cool."
Spike opened his own mouth in imitation and inhaled deeply. He coughed, a smoker's cough, then inhaled again. He smiled. "I like it." Then the smile hardened. "behind you Slayer."
I whirled around and kicked out at the nearest vampire. As I fought, I did a quick estimate. About ten. We could take them, easy. Back to back, each blow counted, and clouds of dust filled the air.
This was exhilaration. I was born to do it.
They were all gone, and we had a moment of stillness, as the dust settled. Then it was a moment of silence. Anything could happen in that moment. It was a moment of decision.
"Do you want…to go to that place for a bit, Slayer?"
"I assume you mean the Bronze?"
"You assumed right."
Another decisive moment.
"Okay."
*****
And how could Riley ever compete? We went to the Bronze, and it was uncomfortable. It was a date, and we could never be about dates. It was so much more darker than that, so much more deeper.
I had tried to stay in the shallow end, keep to the light, but it was so hard. To have tasted that depth, and to lose it.
Temptation won.
*****
We sat there, neither knowing what to say or do. This was a new situation, one I'd never been in before. It had happened, and we were here. There wasn't a live band tonight, just old Christmas songs playing over the sound system. The Bronze was pretty empty, having only been open for a half hour. Then I heard the first chord of a certain song, and knew exactly what to do.
"Would you like to dance?"
"If you want, luv."
And it was so uneasy. He held me carefully, like a china doll, as if afraid that I would shatter or just disappear like a ghost of the imagination.
The nights are colder now
Maybe I should close the door
And anyway the snow has covered all your footsteps
And I can follow you no more
The fire still burns at night
My memories are warm and clear
But everybody knows
It's hard to be alone
At this time of year
We swayed in time to the music, and he pulled me closer. I resisted for a moment, then gave in. The gap between our bodies was barely discernible, but it was there.
It was only a winters tale
Just another winters tale
And why should the world take notice
Of one more love that's failed
Its a love that could never be
Though it meant a lot to you and me
On a world-wide scale
We're just another winters tale.
"We don't have to be, Slayer." he murmured.
"What?"
Just another winter's tale.
*****
And that was when it had really started. That day. Christmas Eve, only a month ago, nearly to the day. Was it really so short a time? No. I'd loved him before then. Maybe not love. But something very close. We'd shared something. Something deeper.
It had taken a few more days before I allowed myself to be really caught up in it all. Then I decided to just let my heart rule over my head, and I left Riley and I was happy. So happy.
For less than a month, I was happy.
*****
"This way Slayer. Left."
I looked into his eyes. "That means we go right." A brief flicker of amusement flashed in their cool blue depths, then he shrugged.
"That means you go right, and I go left. Because I'm right, pet."
I rolled my eyes, and turned away. "Okay, we split up. I heard him start to splash down the sewer tunnel, ran after him, grabbed him by the shoulder, and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
"Be careful."
"I will."
Then he's gone. I walked down my chosen tunnel, and drew the crossbow. Giles told me to aim for the jewel in its forehead. The third eye. It gave me the creeps, that demon, right from the start. A foreboding sense of deja vu. I shook it off, and cautiously continued along the tunnel.
He called out my name.
"I'm coming!"
He had been right after all.
Spike was struggling with the Mohra Demon. He'd managed to get in a few slashes with the short sword, but it was a skilled fighter, and held its own.
I dived straight in, the crossbow once more strapped to my back. The demon turned to face me, and stabbed me in the stomach.
Time stopped.
I remember falling backwards, feeling the white hot pain in my gut. I saw Spike's face change from relief that I was there, to shock, to horror, to anger as he smashed it's jewel encrusted forehead to pain. He ran to my side, and I heard his voice.
"You can't die, Slayer. Not now. Not like this."
"I love you."
"That's a goodbye, you aren't saying goodbye, pet."
Then his face really did change, and I knew what he was going to do.
Turn me.
And as he drained me, I felt supernatural. The pain was like pleasure and they melded together as one…he drew out my life and then as I stood on the thin edge between life and death, I drank. I half consciously lapped at his blood, my lover's blood, and I saw his love in my eyes and my heart. It was beautiful. I could have cried. Through a red haze, I saw the Mohra demon rise from the ground, it's jewel damaged but intact.
And as I struggled to warn him, I watched as it smiled malevolently at me, and cut his back. Mixed its blood with his.
Then everything went black.
*****
All that happened January 23rd.
When I woke up, I was dead. And he was alive. I didn't want him to have to see me. I was everything that he had been, and everything he would now…hate. The sobs wracked my body, and they wrack it still now, as I stare blindly at the calendar on the wall of my room.
January 23rd. The day I died.
I always wondered how it felt to be staked. To turn to dust, disintegrate. Blow away on a winter breeze.
Now I was about to find out.
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