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Holding On To Forever

It’s dark. I feel naked. I look down. I am naked, I amend the assessment. I'm also painfully hard. There's an annoying little voice trying to break through the pounding headache.

"Keep your pants on!" I growl at Andrew through the door.

I look around desperately for my clothes. What the fuck was I doing? Was it something in the blood I just drank? Where the hell do the Summers girl shop for blood? The blood drive at the Association of Marijuana Consumers?

I put my jeans on in a hurry. I'm too hard to button them up. Good thing my shirt's long enough to cover my erection, well, make a tent over it in any case.

I unlock the door for Andrew turning around and quickly going toward the downstairs bathroom. Which doesn't lock, but I'm desperate.

"I was on the can, you bleedin' idiot!" I bark at him over my shoulder.

I close the bathroom door behind me, and look for something that I can put behind it, that would give me the illusion of privacy. I settle on pull out one of the sink drawers.

I drop my pants around my ankles and take care of the most pressing business. It’s killing me that I can't place this smell that seems to surround me. It's all over my skin like I've been rolling around in it. It's mostly on my hands, and my dick. I'm gonna go crazy if I don’t find out what it is.

I compose myself as best I can before leaving. I wanna found out what the hell happened to me just now, but somehow I don't feel like giving an account of my state to Andrew. Or, I shiver at the thought, to Dawnie. She'd kick me out of the house, and do the un-invitation ritual before I can say "but...", and she'd be right.

When I get back out, Andrew's waiting for me in the kitchen. He doesn't look happy, but I couldn't care less right now. I want to ask him if he got everything he needed, but when I open my mouth other words tumble out.

"Dawn's been upstairs reading ever since you left."

What the fuck?!

"So, did you get all the stuff? Can we do this already?"

He looks even unhappier now. And this time, I care. Because it says quite clearly that the answer is a big, fat NO.

We both trudge upstairs, and knock on Dawn's door. I find it odd that it's close since she left it wide open the other day when big sis was in the house. And I remember Dawn being none too happy about Buffy's nosiness.

"Open up, Nibblet. The geek's back and he has bad news."

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I’m seriously ready to pass out when I see Andrew confirm my suspicions. It was like the kiss of death but only with a nod instead.

How am I supposed to deal with this? Huh?

“I’m going to my room to get all the magic books I have,” I announce.

I have to get the hell away from Spike for a minute. With each step I take, I feel like I sink further and further into the dark. I have somehow managed to invoke one hella dangerous spell….AND on the one person whom I’ve had the major hotts for…for like ever.

How do I get myself into these messes?

I take my time in my room. Not that rummaging through the mess I live in would, on a good day be quick work, but no reason to go back down to the impending doom that awaits me any sooner than absolutely necessary.

When I finally get the nerve to head back downstairs, I have the sinking feeling I’m being talked about. You know how it is when the room suddenly is hushed to total silence when you walk in? Yeah, that’s what it was like.

I’m sure the conversation was something along the lines of that chit’s a fucking moron, get her the fuck out of my head NOW!!!!!!!!!!!

I try my hardest to keep my thoughts neutral, but you know how that goes….when you’re desperately trying *NOT* to do something, that’s when that is the *ONLY* thing you want to do.

“Spike!!!! Get your hand off my leg!”

I’ve been in the same room with him for like two minutes now and see what happens?

Just shooooo……never mind. If I finish that sentence, he’s liable to go find a gun.
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~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I run to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I can’t believe what just happened. I have to sit down on the edge of the bathtub; I’m nauseous in all kinds of different ways.

I think I understand what the spell does now.

Whatever I think, consciously or unconsciously, Spike will do, even if it’s against his own free will.

I hate it and I love it all at once. Then I hate myself for loving it. This isn’t how I want to be with him. I can’t force my will on him and accept it as truth. That isn’t right, it isn’t me and it surely isn’t him.

I’m not sure I can stand to be around him anymore. Not because of him either, but because I don’t trust myself. I could cause something really horrible to happen totally by accident.

I put my head down in my hands and let the tears run free. I just wish for once that I could *NOT* screw things up. I’ve always been the screw up and even when I’m trying to do something as a favor to a friend, I screw it up, and in the biggest way imaginable!

Why couldn’t those idiot monks given me a little more of the responsibility gene and a lot less of the total looser one.

All I can hope for now is that the Powers are favoring me today and Andrew hurries up and gets here.
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~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I have to take several calming breaths before I can even utter a coherent word and by that point the buzzing in my head is so fierce that I feel like I’m going to pass out. I close my eyes trying to steady myself.

One more breathe.

“Here’s your book,” I say as evenly as I can.

I see the look on Spike’s face. The thoughts going through his mind wouldn’t be more clear had he put up a flashing neon sign. I have screwed this up big time!

“I didn’t mean to.”

It comes out mousy sounding, like I’ve suddenly transported back into that emotional time warp of myself at twelve.

“I mean…”

I don’t get the chance to finish, the book is out of my hands before I have time to think.
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I feel like I’ve been sent off on some wild goose chase. Spike has me looking for a book at the Watchers’ Council offices. I can’t even pronounce the name of it, how in the world am I supposed to find the blessed thing?

I take tea with Giles’ second in command. He needs to trust me so a little friendly conversation can’t hurt. He asks about Buffy and I give him the low down on where she’s at. I’m not sure if he was pumping me for information or simply wanted to know if I would tell him or not. Even if the council is on the more up and up these days with Giles at the helm, I’ve been taught you can never be too careful.

When Mr. Boring finally gets called away, I make my way to the library. One would think that this place would be overflowing with Watchers or trainees. But one would be wrong. I find only one retired Watcher dozing in his chair behind the main desk. I’m surprised that he doesn’t hear me when I walk in, but he doesn’t move a muscle.

I look around the enormous room feeling like its dooms day for me. This is going to take forever. If I were smart, or maybe just mean, I’d wake up Watcher-man and have him get the book for me, but I figure he’s probably earned his sleep over the years so I leave him be.

I see a bookcase running along one wall, when the title to one of the volumes becomes clear to me; I realize I’m looking at every Watcher Diary since the beginning of time. I’m drawn to these books and if I had nothing else to do today, I’d sit and read through some of them. But Spike seemed to need his ‘Demonologie Malyfycorum’ today, so I head to the back of the stacks to see if I can find it.

When I check my watch, I realize I’ve been searching through bookcases for over two hours. I decide to check on Watcher-man, just to see if help has woken up yet.

Damn. Still sleeping like a baby.

I return to my deed. Two more bookcases in and I spot my pot of gold. I pull the gigantic book off the shelf and sit down on the dusty floor to flip through it. I’m a ‘need to know’ kind of gal, and since Spike wasn’t real forthcoming with the information, I decide to check things out for myself.

I find a few spells with names I don’t even attempt, more disgusting pictures than my advanced biology class in college had and then I find it. Page two hundred fifty-seven hummed with energy that called to my very being. It glowed in an aura of green and just looking at the words made my body tingle.

~ El continuium parle mortium ~

I say the words aloud before I even realized my lips had moved. The aura of the page is intensifying and I’m suddenly getting very freaked out. I slam the book shut, shove it in my bag and make a b-line for the door.

Not man, nor beast, nor slayer could have stopped me. I think I’ve screwed up. I need to get to Spike.
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As we sit in silence at the bar, I can tell Spike’s a little on edge. He keeps eyeing me as if I might disappear if he doesn’t watch out. I pretend I don’t notice what he’s doing, instead I nurse my drink and watch the activities of the floor through the bar length mirror hanging on the wall.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts when a sweaty arm drapes across my shoulders. I take a glance in the mirror, there’s a reflection, unlike the cold body on the other side of me. I turn into my new friend and smile my most charming of grins.

The new guy offers some engaging conversation, or about as engaging as you can get when you have to yell at one another just to hear over the loud thump of the music. He’s a handsome guy, a tad over six feet, dark hair, cut short, but not overly so. Chocolate eyes that are so inviting you could almost get lost in them.

I suddenly begin to reconsider my plans for the night. Tall, dark and yummy asks me if I’d like to dance, something slow and romantic has just changed the atmosphere. I take his hand and follow him to the floor, fighting the urge the entire way to glance back over my shoulder. I’m dying to know if he’s watching or not.
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I try to act cool, nonchalant in my response, “Yeah, I suppose.”

He smiles.

I shrug and turn to the stairs. It’s all I can do not to run full out up to my room to get my laptop. I have to remind myself with each step that Spike isn’t interested in little Dawnie, that I have to approach this in a new more mature way. Usually what guys think they *can’t * have is what they want.

Like Buffy. Spike knows he can’t have her so she’s exactly who he pines after. Me on the other hand, I’m not even a blip on the radar yet.


I take my time in my room, giving him ample time to think about me. I smile when I hear him call my name from the bottom of the stairs.

“Hold on!” I answer with that totally exasperated tone I have.

Oh yes….this is going to be fun.
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How did I get myself in the same damn situation again? I was minding my own business, found meself a nice tropical island, with fruits so fucking juicy and sweet that I could go for days at a time without blood. With nice, friendly people, good folk who don't stake master vampires. With beautiful women, with skin like the finest milk chocolate, all of them hot blooded and great lays. And I left all that behind as soon as she called me.


I stomp on the cigarette stub like it's my own stupidity. Slayer just called yesterday like I was the bloody whelp, who lived three houses away. Oh, she was polite enough, but the short of it was that I ran to her like a dog to its master's heel.


Love's bitch. I was so fuckin' right!


She called me on the fuckin' phone! I dragged my sorry corpse out of that death alley the poof led us into. I got my shit together. Yeah, right, as together as a fucked up vampire with a bastard of a soul can be. And did she do anything to find me? To help me? To comfort me? I would've even taken a mercy shag from her. Like I always did. But no. She didn't give a rat's arse about me then. And now she calls me on the phone. Like she's ordering a pizza.


I light another fag. I'm twenty feet from her house, no time to enjoy it all the way, but I needed another one. Haven't seen her in almost three years. Wonder what's it gonna be like.


I can see her house. My steps are slowing down. I've been dying to see her for months, why the fuck am I slowing down?!


The front door jerks open making my heart give this unholy, undead lurch in my chest. The girl runnin' out the door 's not her. It's the chit. My heart sinks back like a stone. The door slams shut behind her, like another barrier falling between me and the Slayer.


The Nibblet's real upset. She storms by me, passing only inches from the tree behind which I stopped. She doesn't sense the presence of a vampire so close? Where does this girl think she lives? Disneyland?


She's speeding away. I look at the house, look at the girl's figure striding away. But then she stops. She's just sitting on a bench at the end of the street, head cradled in her hands. I look back at the house. I can almost smell the Slayer. I'm in the middle. I take another drag, let the smoke out slowly. I take the first step toward the house when some screwed up fatherly instinct or something turns me around like a puppet on a string. I can't leave her there. Her body's screaming "vampire candy".


I make sure she doesn't sense me coming. I wanna scare her back to her senses. She's delaying my long awaited reunion with the Slayer. I'm right standing behind her, so close that she should be able to sense my presence. I put my hands on her shoulders, gripping hard when she tries to pull away. I'm not letting her stand up, or run, or turn around. She's beginning to shiver. I can't let her see that I'm enjoying her fear. I'm here to be her guardian again. So, I speak. My voice sounds lower, more gravelly than I intended. How long has it been since I didn't say anything?


"You should be more careful, Bit. Any number of beasties around after dark."


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