Summary: After deciding that he is no good to the Slayer the way he is, Spike takes a trip into the wild unknown...

Disclaimer et al: see chapter one
 
 

Chapter Twelve - Into the Sun

"Bugger," Spike croaked out as the sun began to rise.

"Spike! You're awake!" Jake was hovering somewhere around him. "Get up, get up! You must run."

"It's too late," he breathed and then coughed. He felt a strange constriction in his chest. Spike struggled to sit up and Jake knelt down beside him. The other man's eyes were wide with fear. "Do me a favour, mate," Spike said and felt pain rip through him at the effort.

"Anything," Jake said. "Look, I'm sorry, bro..."

Spike shook his head and winced at the pounding in his ears - a strange and painful thump-thump. "Don't matter. You need to go to LA. Find--" He coughed again and wondered if his dream injuries had been made reality. "Find Lorne. Get to Buffy. She needs help."

"Lorne. Buffy. Got it. I'll do what I can, my friend." There was a promise written on Jake's face, but Spike knew that there wasn't much the other man could do to help Buffy. She would truly be on her own this time. And he would never see her again.

He leaned over onto Jake's shoulder while he waited for the first rays of light to touch him and turn him into dust. With a hesitant hand, Jake patted him on the shoulder.

The sun was taking an awfully long time to do its job.

"Ah... Spike?"

"Yes?" was his muffled reply from Jake's shoulder.

"Since you're not on fire, bro, you should probably turn around and watch the sunrise."

Cautiously, Spike raised his head and looked to the east. The day was pristine and clear without clouds to mar the blue sky and the yellow orb of the sun had already slipped surreptitiously over the horizon. It didn't glare at him or make him feel the weight of every year of his damnation; it was simply another star which lit up the day.

"Oh god," Spike said and even though it was poncey, he couldn't stop himself from crying a little. "She took me literally."

Jake was awe-struck at the sight of the pale vampire in the full morning sunlight. "What do you mean? What is this, bro?"

The vampire realised finally what the pain in his chest and the pounding in his head were. For the first time in 120 years, his heart and lungs were functioning again. "I'm bloody alive," Spike said.

***

Spike tried to explain his dream or vision quest or whatever you wanted to call to Jake, still not quite sure if he understood it himself. All he knew was that the woman who had called herself 'The Slayer' had made him alive again and he was pretty certain that Jake would discover that he was healthy, too.

The two of them, laughing, crying and stumbling had picked their way back to the road to find the taxi still there.

"Somebody really loves us," Jake said with a grin. "I thought the poet would have stranded us here. He was gone when I woke up this morning."

"I guess he's hitched a ride back to his hell dimension," Spike said sourly.

"Yeah, Jo'burg!" Jake quipped then laughed at his own joke. "Damn. It feels good to laugh again. I haven't felt this good since..." He sobered up a bit at the memory. "Well, you know." He turned to Spike who was staring at his hand. "How're you feeling?"

"Actually, for someone who's just been resurrected after 120 years, not too bad. It hurts like a bitch to breathe, though. But it's funny 'cause I don't feel any different."

Jake raised an eyebrow as he opened the side door to the van. "You don't?"

"Well, apart from the lack of disintegration in the sunlight and the nausea and light-headedness... Yeah." Spike grinned. He flexed his arm muscles and then ran a hand through his hair. "Looks like everything's still working otherwise. Some things better than they used to." He tapped his chest.

"If you say so, man." Jake hopped up into the drivers seat and fished around for a bottle of water. He took large gulps of the lukewarm liquid, then wiped his dribbling mouth. "Man! I was parched. You want some?" He handed the bottle to Spike.

Spike looked at the bottle as if it was about to bite him. The rasping at the back of his throat and the dryness of his tongue told him that he needed something, but he wasn't sure if this was it.

Jake pressed the bottle into his hand. "Take it, man. We don't want you to dehydrate and today's going to be a stinker by the look of it. It'll take us a while to get back to the city."

It was starting to sink in. He had a pulse and lungs that needed air. His skin itched, his stomach rumbled and his head hurt and he was alive. "Bloody hell," Spike said to himself. He growled as he ripped the lid off the bottle with his teeth and poured the contents down his throat as if it was blood, but it wasn't - it was water; life-giving and politically-correct water. And he didn't have to slaughter anyone to get it. The stream soothed his dry throat and eased his headache and Spike came back from the drink laughing.

Jake, however, was looking at him with horror. "I thought--" He stumbled over his words. "I thought she made you human."

"Huh?" Spike said after another long swig from the bottle.

"Look, man," Jake said. "Look at yourself in the mirror."

Spike frowned but turned his attention to the van's side mirror and bent to look into it. Two eyes stared back at him - his own reflection as real as the day - but the eyes were yellow and the teeth as his image smiled were pointed. There was a predator in the mirror and Spike could feel the rush of power and the tingling nerves that always came with the change of face, but, along side it was the thrice fast beat of his heart and the reflex rise and fall of his chest.

He took in a deep breath and relaxed. The predator stood down and was replaced by the hard blue eyes and leering grin of William the Bloody. Fucking hell, he thought, I'm alive and I'm a vampire - I'll bet the bleeding council never saw this coming...

He gave Jake his widest, most malicious grin and climbed into the passenger seat of the taxi. "Let's get back to civilisation, mate, I'm ready to rock!"

Jake sighed, then grinned ruefully. The boy seemed to accept that life was down right weird but that they had places to go so he fished around for the keys and started up the engine. He flicked the radio on as he headed back out onto the highway, and strains of soulful music began to play. "This one's and oldie but a goodie," he said as he turned it up.

The band on the radio crooned their heartfelt lyrics into the cabin while the two men looked eagerly on towards the horizon.

"I knew a man who lived in fear
it was huge it was angry
it was drawing near
Behind his house a secret place
was the shadow of the demon
he could never face.

He built a wall of steel and flame
and men with guns to keep it tame
Then standing back he made it plain
that the nightmare would never ever rise again
But the fear and the fire and the guns remain.

It doesn't matter now it's over anyhow
He tells the world that it's sleeping
But as the night came round I heard
its lonely sound
it wasn't roaring it was weeping..." *
 

THE END

* The lyrics are from a song 'Weeping' by a South African band called Bright Blue. You can find the rest of the lyrics and an MP3 to listen to it here: http://www.new.co.za/~currin/weeping_lyrics.html

A/N: I would like to give big hugs and thanks to Annerose, my beta reader! Thanks for putting up with my insanity *g* . Also, thanks to all my readers who left reviews at ff.net, crumbling walls and SB6. You're the one's who made me finish this! There will be a sequel - I haven't said nearly enough about Spike yet *g* and Anne demanded one, but I'll take a break before I start and hopefully plot out something a bit more substantial.