Banner by Selene
Banner by Selene
It had been three years, seven months, two weeks and four days since the Sunnydale hellmouth imploded.
Scratch that.
Since the Sunnydale hellmouth was wrecked when the noble vampire…her noble vampire…sacrificed himself to save the world. Buffy gasped at the memory, no longer sharp as knives, more like paper cuts now, but somehow infinitely more painful. She could cast her mind back to those moments, their last moments, without hysterical sobbing but the ache and emptiness deep inside her had grown no less with the passage of time. Sometimes she worried that the ability to resist the hysteria meant that she no longer cared, that the love she’d been late in admitting had gone.
But then as she felt the burn of the flame on her hand as she closed her eyes, she knew. It was still as strong as ever.
She’d tried to move on. Giles had suggested that as a Slayer’s life was usually short, it was about time she tried living hers and ‘pulled herself together’. It had been a month before she even answered his calls after that exchange. But, she’d tried anyway – for Giles, for Dawn, for the friends that even in their absence she felt responsible for.
At the last count she’d ‘dated’ twenty seven guys. All one date, all very chaste and all very uncomfortable. One guy had chosen to misinterpret her disinterest as a challenge, and had left hurriedly once the hand he’d rashly placed on her breast ended up on the end of a broken arm. ‘Ice bitch’ he’d called her. She liked it.
So now she was in England, visiting with Giles and Willow and trying to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ appropriately at the wonders of the Slayer school revealed to her for her approval. There was no doubt it was a great idea, and the idea had become reality in very short time. Willow had worked wonders recruiting girls to be trained and had barely slept in the same bed twice for the first two years. Then after that, she buckled down with Giles to draw up the training schedule. Buffy had been consulted, of course, but it was Faith who actually followed through and provided the moves.
Buffy was snuggled in her habitual pose in the Watcher’s Council library, sitting, her back to the stacks, selecting random texts and thumbing through until something caught her eye. She had found solace lately amid the smells of musty paper and rows of books so alien to her before she met Giles. The Slayer school was part of the new Council, housed in the same building, so thankfully there was no musty librarian to shush the cacophony of her cellphone as it rang suddenly, merely the affronted stares of one or two tweedy types with Giles-like tendencies. When one guy took off his glasses and reached for his handkerchief, Buffy had to stifle a giggle before answering her phone.
“Yes?”
“Buffster! Whoa, it’s great to hear your voice. You still hanging with Will and the baby slayers?”
Buffy’s lips parted in a soft smile. She heard from Xander infrequently, but he always spoke to her as if they’d parted mere minutes ago. It was just him, the way he was. It was comforting and warm and familiar, and it made her feel momentarily as if things would be fine.
“Hey, Xand. Yeah, still here in tweed central. How’s it where you are?”
Buffy slipped through the heavy wooden door and closed it behind her with a satisfying click, the book she’d been reading still marked by her finger and cradled beneath her arm. Her boots made clacking sounds on the tiled floor that led away from the library before it gave way to the deep, plush pile of the house proper. There was a large, oak-lined room that Giles referred to as the ‘Club’ area, and this joined on to the library corridor with another heavy door that Buffy had now moved through. A few watchers and watchers-in-training occupied the overstuffed chairs, barely acknowledging her presence as she moved through them, still chatting to Xander.
“No! She didn’t! And what did you do?”
Xander’s reply made her laugh out loud, raising a few British eyebrows and hastening her exit to the less formal lounge which was the next room along. Here, at least, things were more or less the normal she’d come to expect. There was a tv for one, equipped with a state of the art DVD player and something Giles referred to as Sky+ which turned out to be a TiVo box.
Spying a comfy chair in the far corner, away from the group of young slayers clustered around the tv watching dancing boy singers, Buffy gratefully sank down with her legs folded beneath her and giggled at Xander’s excitable retelling of his latest disastrous date.
After mutual promises to meet up soon, Buffy clicked her cellphone shut and closed her eyes. Unbidden images once again filled her mind; Spike, slowly clapping and predicting her doom behind the Bronze; Spike sitting beside her mom at the time the two of them formed an unlikely alliance to take down Angelus and save the world; Spike telling her she was in his blood, that he was drowning in her; Spike, taking a beating to save Dawn and to keep his promise; Spike…gazing at her in wonder as she descended the stairs, his love for her shining in his eyes.
She gulped at that one, her eyes blinking open. Things could have been so different if she’d only let him in. How much happiness they could have shared together, maybe found a way to stop the apocalypse before it got too far. Maybe saved him.
No. She couldn’t go there, not just yet. Nice thoughts. Think nice thoughts.
The snark and the fighting was something she missed so much. Nothing was the same without him, and the joy of the slay was toned down with his absence. She closed her eyes again and relived some of their most memorable fights, loving the way they always seemed to know where the other one was and made their move accordingly without any verbal communication. Even when they both professed to be mortal enemies and therefore presumably overjoyed with the thought of the other meeting a grisly end, they parried and thrust and watched each other’s back.
Kismet. That’s what he’d whispered once as she lay at his side sated and aching with the lovemaking they’d shared; she’d let herself be lulled into forgetting that she was the Slayer and he was a vampire and she had a duty to fulfil, and just momentarily she’d allowed herself to agree with him. Not that she told him that; no, as soon as the haze of lust had worn off, she’d jumped up and dressed, not saying a word as she hightailed it out of his crypt and into the night.
But she remembered.
And that night, the first they’d shared, the house disintegrating around them and the hours just disappearing as they pushed each other to the limit. That was another memory she treasured, despite the disgust she’d voiced at the time. She tried night after night to imagine the feel of his fingers on her skin, as she’d felt it during their first time together, each sweep of his digits searing her flesh. God, the way she’d treated him! Goading him on and punching him in the nose, calling him convenient. She cringed as she recalled the way he looked at her.
He’d known she was lying. He always knew when she was lying. Pity she hadn’t realized she was lying to herself.
But he didn’t give up, her vampire. Despite the bites and the scratches, the way she pushed him away and tried everything in her power to keep him at arm’s length, he never stopped trying, never stopped caring and never stopped showing her how much he loved her.
Like before the battle. When she’d been forced out of her home by her friends and family, had taken refuge in a squalid house and curled up on the none too clean bed left by its former occupant, he’d found her. He’d known exactly what to say to her to keep her fighting, and when she needed to be held he did just that.
Now that was one of her favourite memories, one that kept her warm in the deep dead of night when the nightmares woke her screaming.
And so she was back, full circle. Back to the cavern beneath the high school, back to the apocalypse and the hordes of ubervamps, back to the jolting shock of turning to see Spike pinned to the wall with a blinding beam of light skewering him in the chest.
/I love you./
/No you don’t, but thanks for saying it./
Damn. Every time she relived that bit her heart almost stopped. If only she could have had the time to make him believe her…
But she didn’t. The cavern was collapsing and there was just time to clasp his hand and marvel at the flame that licked their joined fingers, stare deep into his eyes and will him to understand how sorry she was and how much she regretted all the time that had passed without them having each other.
Then she had to go. Leave him there, to die, suffering horribly.
Tears escaped once more through her tightly closed lids to run unheeded down her cheeks as she couldn’t stop the memories flooding back. Her breath hitched in her throat as she struggled to keep it together.
It was always this way. Something would simply transport her back to the moment and she was lost and distraught, unable to function until it had passed. Willow spoke twice before Buffy turned her head towards her, her eyes unfocused and glazed, confused and obviously distressed.
Willow knew why, of course. They’d all given up the pretence of ignoring Buffy’s feelings for Spike long ago, but she was still surprised every time she had to confront it head on. It was epic, that was the only word for the love her friend had found and lost so cruelly. It made her own heart ache in sympathy, having lost such a love herself. But there was no time now to reflect and remember: the end of the world was quite literally nigh.
+ + + +
Buffy paced, her anger and resentment clear in her body language and flashing eyes. She’d taken the news of yet another apocalypse very badly, inordinately so, and had so far refused to sit down in Giles’ cell-like office. The exhausted watcher tried to reason with her again.
“Buffy. I assure you that I have checked, double checked and checked again. There is no doubt. There will be an attack, it will be in four days time and we do need to mobilise the slayers to fight against it. If there was any other way…”
“But there never is, is there? There’s just us. Haven’t we paid enough dues? We’ve lost…good people, people we…loved and people we need.”
Giles swallowed down the snide reply. He’d lost the same people that she had and hurt just as much for the most part, but he had a job to do and so did Buffy. They didn’t have the luxury of turning a blind eye and thinking that the things that went bump in the night were children’s stories. They knew, firsthand, that the darkness was full of monsters and demons and evil was always on the edge of the night waiting to swoop in and take control. He toned down his response and evened out his voice before he spoke again, taking a deep breath.
“Yes. We have lost people. And those people would fight again, even knowing that their death was a certainty. You know that Buffy. They were heroes. It’s what heroes do.”
Buffy stopped pacing and bowed her head. Giles’ words had hit their mark, as he intended. It jolted her out of her fury at the injustice she felt; he was right. Spike would have fought again and again, despite his impending demise, as would Anya, as would Tara if she’d lived to see the final battle. As would her mom. And she wouldn’t let them down now.
The woman that turned to face Giles, Willow and Faith was quite clearly the Slayer. The grieving lover, friend and daughter was back in the box until the world had been saved. Again.
It was time to go to work.
Faith grinned as Buffy barked out orders. B had always been better at the general thing than she was; Faith was more a rule breaker than a rule maker, so the two of them made up quite the team whenever they’d been pushed into action. What was that Giles had said? Necessity was the mother of invention? Yeah, well – she preferred it simple, like ‘you do what you have to do’, but give the man a cookie for giving it a stab.
Orders given, Buffy allowed herself to sit for a little while until the troops were mustered, the rest of the group scurrying about and making telephone calls. She retrieved the book she’d liberated from the library and stared down at it on her lap. It was a leather bound, special edition – no doubt highly prized and valuable – but that wasn’t why she’d been reading it. A soft smile of remembrance curved her lips as she opened the book and began to read.
/If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all./
Appropriate. Spike had explained that Hamlet was musing on the certainty of death and the nobility of facing it fully in the knowledge that you’d done everything you could to prepare. And now Buffy must do the same thing, again. He’d read many excerpts from Hamlet to her, his strangely cultured voice soothing her despite her outward signs of disregard. That particular passage was recited by him the night before the Hellmouth imploded; the night before he died. And he’d been ready. Noble.
She wouldn’t let him down by being any less prepared to meet death head on and swallow it whole.
The only thing left now was to wait and finalise plans. Giles knew the where and the when…he just didn’t know the how. So they must be ready for anything. In four days time.
+ + + +
It turned out they didn’t have to wait that long. The bringer of the feast this time was completely incapable of waiting patiently for her appointed time and decided to visit and gloat early. Giles had installed a similar ‘vampire early warning’ system to that in Wolfram and Hart’s offices when they rebuilt the Council, and the stark klaxon blare awoke everyone in the building. Buffy and Faith raced to the front hall, armed with stakes and trailing the newer slayers behind them. Giles and Willow arrived moments later, Willow’s eyes black in readiness to cast a spell should the need arise.
They were all shocked into silence by the vampire who crouched, hands over her ears, keening loudly.
Drusilla.
Giles signalled to have the alarm stopped, Buffy and Faith taking a few steps toward Drusilla, stakes raised to ensure she did not rush her audience once her equilibrium was restored. With the silence came the unfolding of the vampire, smoothing out her rich, red velvet skirts, her face in human guise and serene as she surveyed her surroundings.
“Slayer.”
Faith sneered. “Slayers you mean. Gotta tell you, freak – not your wisest decision to come here alone. You been in a coma or something? I thought all vamps were in hiding now to get away from me and B and our girls.”
“I’m not ‘ere alone. Miss Edith is with me, and our friends. We’ve come for ‘er…or I’ll huff and I’ll puff…” Drusilla giggled, miming blowing to bring the house down as she pointed at Buffy.
Buffy let out a guffaw. “You seriously think that you walking in here with your goth chick clothes and crazy riddles is gonna get you anywhere? Look around you, idiot – this is the Watchers’ Council; you’re surrounded by slayers with very sharp stakes and one hell of a powerful witch. And you’re just one sad, insane vampire with cheap makeup and a stupid accent. Now stand still while I stake you then I can get back to sleep. Got a lot worse than you to deal with and I need my rest.”
Drusilla started bouncing on her toes, muttering to herself and clapping her hands. “I love this game!” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper; “psssst! I’ve got a secret. My new beau’s promised me a present, and it’s covered in blood and full of guts. I’ve to tell you that he’ll leave all you pretties alone if you give me the slayer to take away as a gift.”
Giles ruffled his hair and stepped up to face the vampire. This was beyond anything that had come up in research. According to the portents, the darkness about to descend upon them was of ancient origin and Giles secretly believed it was the resurgence of the First Evil; so to find Drusilla mixed up in the attack was completely puzzling.
Drusilla eyed him, head tilted, until she recognised the watcher as the man she’d helped to torture and locked lips with. “Ah…pretty boy. You thought I was the teacher…bad gipsy…took away my daddy they did…”
“Drusilla. You must see that you are in an impossible situation. Do tell us what you have been sent here to disclose and we shall see what can be done about it.”
The vampire tutted and wagged her outstretched finger. “Ah, ah ah! Naughty! And anyway I’ve told you – we want ‘er, and then we’ll go and play by ourselves.”
“Not happening. And if that’s all…Buffy?”
Buffy gave a wry grin and rushed toward Drusilla, burying the stake deep in her chest. It never met its target, instead deflected to scrape along Buffy’s cheek and draw her own blood. As she stood there in shock, her blood dripping down to soak her nightclothes, Buffy watched as Drusilla twirled and squealed with glee.
“Bad slayer! Mummy can’t be harmed, and you’ve to come with me now. Miss Edith needs her nap and it’s past her bed-time.” Drusilla clicked her fingers and disappeared, as did Buffy.
Faith roared and ran towards the empty space, but it wasn’t an illusion. Buffy and Drusilla had disappeared.
“Damn it!” Giles growled out, “why won’t that archaic bitch die?”
Willow shuffled her feet nervously. Some of the Slayers were barely fourteen, and very impressionable, so didn’t need to hear the man they were encouraged to think of as a substitute father figure use strong language.
“Erm…come now, girls, back to bed. We’ll deal with this in the morning. 6.00 am training as usual. Faith?”
The dark slayer closed her mouth, dragged her eyes away from the empty space that had recently contained B and the vampire and nodded at Willow. She’d lead the young slayers back to bed then meet up with Willow and Giles to plan their course of action. But B was gone…
As the hall cleared and Willow and Giles were left staring at each other, the two seasoned warriors swallowed down their anxiety and drew on their past experiences dealing with evil adversaries to quash their unease. Business had to take precedence over feelings, plans must be laid, arrangements made to arm themselves. Yes, their friend was missing, but reflection on that had to wait for the wee hours. The world was on the verge of ending, again. And without their best, they would have to fight all the harder to keep the oblivious citizens protected.
Their uneasy silence was broken by Faith, who came running helter skelter down the corridor, eager to get to the fight as always. She gripped a battleaxe in her left hand, a stake in her right, and she was itching for a slaying.
“Alright, Giles. Point me at the vampire and I’ll go get B.”
“Yes. Ahem. Well, there’s the rub, really. I’ve no idea where they are. This wasn’t in my books. According to my research, the end of the world is approaching, yes. And in two days time we will be battling to save ourselves and all humanity from the darkest evil. But Drusilla…I didn’t see her coming.”
Faith gazed at the Watcher with a raised eyebrow. “So? Go figure it out, book-man! I’m the muscle and you’re the brains, that’s how it works. And Willow – surely you can scry or levitate or something. Come on! We’re wasting time.”
“Oh! Well. Yes – I’ll get right on that. Giles? You and I should head to the library. And why does that sound familiar and comforting? Faith – you should get some rest, if you can. We’ll call you as soon as we have anything.”
Faith was left alone in the hallway, knowing that she wouldn’t sleep but unsure what else to do. Glancing through the window at the still dark night, she decided to work out her angst on the unsuspecting vampire and demon population of London and slipped through the doorway and away.
+ + + +
Buffy came round to find herself tied and bundled into a corner in a dank cellar. Of course; wouldn’t be a creature of evil if it lived in a penthouse apartment…unless it was Glory and would die without access to a manicurist. She looked around, finding no handy secret passages particularly leaping out at her, and decided to move things along.
“HELLO! HEY!”
No response.
“DRUSILLA! YOU SCARED OF A LITTLE BITTY GIRL?” As this also elicited no guard or reply, Buffy gave her lungs a workout and screamed the vampire’s name over and over again.
Eventually Drusilla came to stand in front of the Slayer, her fingers entwined and a beatific smile on her face. “Now, now. Shush! Bad girl! Not your time yet; my love isn’t ready for you until tomorrow night. And I’m to keep you quiet until then…although I can play with the puppy…do you want to play a game, Buffy Summers?”
Buffy glared defiantly at her adversary. She hadn’t gone one on one with Drusilla previously, the female vampire having been protected by … she couldn’t even complete that thought, it was too painful. But this creature had killed Kendra, helped to torture Giles, had killed hundreds, maybe thousands, of innocent people. And she would die at Buffy’s hand.
“Play a game? Yeah, sure – as long as it’s ‘lop the crazy head off the insane vampire’. How do you fancy that one?”
“Tut! Mind your tongue! Might forget that you’re needed tomorrow and play too rough. Wuff!”
“Look. Whatever; just get on with it.” Buffy’s patience had run out and she braced her back against the wall, tugging at the rope that bound her wrists and ankles. It gave slightly, and she kept her eyes fixed on the vampire as she tried again.
Drusilla had turned away, busying herself with selecting the best implements with which to torture her playmate, so Buffy’s attack took her by surprise. Buffy had her pinned to the floor, both hands round her white throat, and it would be seconds until the pressure was enough to separate the vampire’s head from her neck. But suddenly Buffy was forcibly thrown across the room, Drusilla clutching at her bruised throat and cursing up a storm.
“Slayer.” The monster that had interrupted Buffy’s attempted beheading stood outlined against the doorway, a silhouette of familiar menace. Buffy’s heart skipped a beat, then two beats – almost stopped. Her blood was pounding in her head. It was…
“Missed me?”
Buffy blinked, her eyes refusing to focus on what she knew couldn’t possibly be there. She’d seen him burn…
Drusilla giggled, rushing to stand at the side of … Spike, her fingers brushing against his dark clothes and gazing adoringly up at his face. But his eyes were fixed on one point only.
Buffy.
He was drinking her in, unable to even blink lest he missed a second of her presence. He knew that he’d met her before, had fought her even, but surely this obsessive need to watch her was a weakness he’d managed to overcome in the days before he was thrown into hell. Shards of memories tried to reform, but his shattered mind wouldn’t allow completion. His brow creased with the effort of recalling anything about this Slayer that would explain his reaction to her. But to no avail.
He shook himself; whatever had been between them – and as mortal enemies, it could only have been a shared loathing one for the other – it didn’t matter now. Now he had her at his mercy, and the task he’d been brought back to complete was almost done. Then he could please himself, take up where he’d left off with his dark princess, lay waste to the half of Europe they’d been forced to leave unmolested when Drusilla had taken ill.
And yet…there it was again, the crippling pain in his chest and the dizziness. Ever since he’d materialised at Drusilla’s feet a few short months ago, naked, unsure of his identity and ravenous, he’d been assaulted by the same complaints. It grew worse when he fed, the pain almost unbearable, but his love encouraged him to continue, told him he had to get strong for her and for their master. So he did. He learned to control the pain somewhat, even welcomed it as a reminder that he’d escaped the hellish oblivion that had been his existence for who knew how long.
Now at least he had a purpose. To bring about the end of the world. And the Slayer was the catalyst that would ensure success. He turned to leave, stopped suddenly by the sound of her voice, husky with emotion.
“Spike…is it really…you?”
He took a few steps forward, her scent tickling at his nostrils and causing the crippling pain once again, this time stronger, forcing him to clutch at his chest until it passed. He drew himself up to his full height, icy eyes meeting and holding hers which were wet with tears.
“Yeah, it’s me. Thought you’d got rid of me, did you? Sent me off to hell and walked away? Sorry to disappoint…but don’t worry, you’ll get to go to hell yourself soon enough. Only right that I return the favour, don’t ya think?” He nodded at Dru to bind the slayer’s hands and feet again, Buffy offering no resistance, strangely distracted.
Buffy tried to stand but was pulled down by her restraints. “Spike! Please! What’s happened to you? I’ve been…oh Spike! I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t know about the amulet, I swear. And I should have worn it…I’m sorry…please…”
“Begging now, Slayer? Well, that’s gratifying. I like it, makes me all warm inside. And you’ve missed me…awwww. That’s …well, it’s kind of sickening to be honest. Are you so twisted? Mind you, you always did like to dance…”
Buffy’s eyes were wide with confusion. “I don’t understand. Don’t you…don’t you…love me?”
Spike almost buckled as the pain shot through him, his teeth clenched as he hissed. “Love you? Are you totally nuts? I’m a bloody vampire, a master one at that. I’ve already killed two Slayers, and you, dear Buffy, will make it a hat trick. Sorry to disappoint love, but my heart belongs to another.” He grabbed at Drusilla, more for support than anything else, leaning heavily on her as they left the room.
Buffy’s quiet sobs followed them as they left, Spike finding it hard to keep on walking away, every step increasing his torment.
+ + + +
While Spike lay passed out on the bed, Drusilla scurried away to take instructions from her master. Spike’s actions puzzled her, and she sought reassurance from the beast that had bargained with her to bring her lover back. One task, it had promised; one task and then she would be reunited with her Spike and free to do what they would for all eternity. But this strange affliction, the pain Spike spoke of, was growing worse and had become even more acute once he’d been faced with the Slayer.
She hesitated on the outskirts of her master’s lair, unsure how to beg of him an explanation. She entered only when called, unwilling to call down his rage by encroaching on his privacy.
“Drusilla. You are very welcome to come to me whenever you like, now sit, tell me what troubles you.”
Drusilla kept her eyes lowered. She hated to admit it, but his power scared her, made even her mosaic mind cohesive and sharp as self-preservation kicked in. Her voice faltered as she questioned him on his plans, seeking some kind of reassurance regarding Spike and his reward and a promise that the Slayer would meet her end and bother them no more.
If her puppetmaster was put out by her questioning, he showed no sign. His silky smooth voice caressed her as he assured her that once the Slayer was used in the spell to bring about the end of the mortal world, Spike would be hale and hearty and they could leave as promised. With a low curtsey, Drusilla took her leave and headed back to Spike with a joyful heart.
The empty bed assaulted her like a slap in the face. She knew exactly where he would be, and cursed herself for leaving him alone. When he’d come back to her from the grave, he was so altered but still her Spike. He’d no memory of the final battle in LA with Angel and the do-gooders, no recollection of anything past the night in the hellmouth when Buffy gave him the amulet that ended his existence. Drusilla had willingly encouraged him in his mistaken belief that he’d been gone from her side since that time, delighting in the fact that he still believed them to be a couple and that the dalliance with the Slayer was not part of his memories. He was hers again. And she would keep him this time.
But it had been clear that since he’d been in the slayer’s presence something was not right. The pain that Spike suffered from – its cause unknown – was increasing in intensity, and if she didn’t know better, she’d think that it was his soul battering against the evil shell of the vampire. But she did know better; the only vampire with a soul she knew of was her sire, and once the world was rid of the mortals that overran it, she would seek her daddy out and they would be a family again.
Miss Edith beamed her approval to her plan, and Drusilla moved towards her favoured dolly, promptly forgetting about Spike as she lost herself in her habitual world of tea parties and whispered secrets straight from the stars.
+ + + +
Willow woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in the hard, wooden chair at the library table, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth and looking around her, disorientated. For a moment she imagined herself back in high school, hearing Giles mutter and exclaim to himself as he paced beside her.
She half expected to turn and see Xander on one side, Buffy on the other. But Xander was in Africa and Buffy…Buffy was missing. She focused instantly at that thought, businesslike and readying herself for action.
“Anything?”
“What? Oh, yes. Sorry – did I wake you?”
“I shouldn’t have been asleep. You shouldn’t have let me doze off.”
“It’s no matter; I’m getting nowhere fast anyway. I hate to say this, but we may have to simply wait until the apocalypse comes to us. I can find nothing else to help us. And given your lack of success with the scrying…”
Willow flinched. It was true, but hearing her failure spoken out loud made her feel worse. No spell, no incantation, could point her in the direction of Buffy, or Drusilla, nor did she detect any dark influence in the supernatural plane.
It was very frustrating. Made her want to go out and pummel something to let off steam. And thinking that thought…
“Giles, where’s Faith?”
“Erm…I’m not sure; in bed?”
“I doubt it. She looked pretty pissed to me.”
“Oh, well then. Maybe she’s on patrol.”
“Yeah. Probably. Wish I could just go out and kill something to let off steam. Or not…” Willow trailed off lamely, visions of Warren flayed alive making her blush and hide her eyes.
The heavy oak door burst open at that point, bouncing back off the jamb to reveal a gleeful Faith manhandling a barely conscious demon before her.
“Hi guys. You waited up for me? Nice to know you care – here; I brought you a gift. Not much to look at but he’s got a lovely singing voice. Tell them.”
The demon cowered, one eye swollen shut and blood pooling at the corner of its mouth. It was in obvious pain but one look at Faith and it forgot its troubles and started to gibber, spilling forth a garbled jumble of words that didn’t make any sense. Willow knelt beside it, gesturing with her hand and the demon became lucid, speaking now in English.
“Hey! He can speak properly when he wants to on his own. You! Jelly face! Spill.”
After a couple of minutes, Giles sat heavily, dragging his glasses off his nose and resting the back of his hand on his forehead. This was heavy stuff, and it would take some deciphering.
“So…essentially, what you are telling me is that some dead vampire – as in really dead, gone, dusted – has been brought back from hell so that a master demon…and let me get this right, a master demon that nobody has ever heard of before… can use him or her - that’s not clear either - to bring about the end of the world? And to do this, they need the Slayer, as in the original, Buffy Summers?”
The captured demon nodded. He hadn’t realised humans were so slow. Maybe he could escape relatively unharmed after all.
“And, you can take us to the demon, the vampire, lead us to Buffy?”
The demon nodded again, eyeing up the distance to the doorway and weighing up the relative speed of his unsteady legs and the reaction time of the slayer. He stayed where he was. After all, he could always lead them on a merry dance…well, shuffle. Just as long as he got out of this room and away from the slayer, the witch and the …whatever the hell the other one was.
Faith loomed over him, grabbing his shoulders and dragging him upright. “So? What’re you waiting for, no-neck? I’m feeling ansty and I need a work out – preferably the bastard that took my friend. Understand?”
The demon nodded again, frantically. He was sure that even if he led them to the demon’s lair, there would be measures in place to prevent them rescuing the original slayer. The demon had earned a reputation, since his recent appearance, as a forward thinking being and he would have all the possibilities covered.
Before he could react, his hands were tied and he was slung over the slayer’s shoulder and bundled into an MPV, his head covered by a sack. By the sound of it, there were another two vehicles at least, all being filled with giggling girls. Maybe the rumours were true, that there was now an army of slayers waiting to take control.
The end of the world couldn’t come round quickly enough for him.
+ + + +
Buffy sensed him before he spoke. Her eyes were swollen with the tears that had dripped relentlessly down her face, her nose raw where she’d wiped at it with a careless hand. She turned her head towards the wall, not wanting him to see her like this, not wanting to see him if he was as cold to her as before.
His breath was cold on her neck as he whispered her name.
“Buffy?”
She couldn’t speak, hope warring with the certain disappointment she faced. But…his voice…it was that special voice he always reserved for saying her name. Nobody else could raise the shivers on her skin with those five letters.
“Buffy, love…”
Oh, and right there he had her. She turned, not caring if the vampire she saw kissed her or killed her so long as she could look at him. She gazed at him, eyes once again swimming in tears, but now tears of joy and relief. Spike reached down and untied her hands, her feet, his fingers lingering on her skin.
“Do you…remember me…us?” Buffy’s voice wavered, the question needing to be asked but hard to get past her lips.
Spike looked up sharply, his eyes boring into hers. “Every second. And I’m sorry, for before. But I’ve been so lost…”
“Oh god! Spike! I can’t believe you’re here…where were you…did you suffer…was it hell? You’d done so much good…I hoped…”
He chuckled, a sour, mirthless sound. Not enough good, obviously. “No. Hell for me, Buffy. But…I can’t remember it, so all’s well. Last thing I remember is…you…holding my hand and telling me that you love me.”
Buffy’s hand reached out, stroking his cheek, shivering at the feel of his skin so long yearned for in her dreams. But there would be time enough for holding him. Once she’d carried out her duty one more time. Gripping both of his hands in hers, she leaned her forehead against his and spoke quietly but forcibly.
“I do love you, Spike. Believe me, I do. And I’ll show you how much – when we get out of here.”
Spike smiled, relaxing so that his lips moved closer to hers, finally touching, feather-soft and promising more when time allowed.
“We’d better get on with it then.”
Buffy stood, rubbing her wrists and ankles to get the circulation going, Slayer now not lover, demanding answers. “Tell me what you know of Drusilla’s plan.”
Spike paced, ruffling his hair – Buffy’s eyes drawn to his every movement. “Thing is, love, I’ve been in a daze; not sure whether I was drugged or just enchanted. Dragged me back from the hell I was in and had me feeding and killing.” He stopped dead. “I’ve killed, Buffy. I can see all their faces…their pain…”
“Not now. We’ll deal with that, but not now. You weren’t yourself, Spike. It was like when I found you in the old woman’s house, in the cellar. You’ve been played. Is it the First again?”
“No. Not the same. Dru tells me what to do, but she gets it off another. The First would just be Dru, and she’s real as anything, not a ghost.”
Buffy swallowed hard, the implications of Spike spending god knows how long with Drusilla sickening her, a feeling she didn’t have time to deal with right now.
“Do you know what you were supposed to do? How the end of the world was to be brought about?”
“Yeah. Me and the Slayer – you – we’re the key. Some magic, some incantations – and blood, yours and mine. Was supposed to turn you, then dust you. Sounded like a good plan to me…when I was…altered.”
Buffy said nothing. She had no words.
“But seeing you, gave me a kick up the arse. I’ve been strugglin’ with Dru’s orders, hurtin’ when I fed, getting flashbacks that I didn’t understand – until I saw you intent on ripping Dru’s head off. Nice moves, by the way – sorry I interrupted. And when you spoke to me…well, it hurt. Really hurt, pain beyond bearing. Dru got me back to our…the bedroom, an’ I must have passed out. Came to, and I remembered. Not everything – just you.”
Buffy simply smiled. She was standing in a damp cellar, the world was about to end and she’d probably never been happier than she was right then.
“So, I guess we’d better get out of here then, rally the troops. What was it you said about the fight with Glory…’once more onto the beach’?”
Spike laughed. “That’s ‘into the breach’, but I’ll take the beach if you’re there. With a factor one million sunblock, o’ course.”
They held hands, making their way to the door – where Drusilla stood barring the way, holding a sword.
“Move away, Dru. It’s over. You can’t pull m’strings any more.”
“Tut! Miss Edith was right – you’ve been a bad, bad boy. Got to be punished…”
In a flash of steel, Drusilla lunged towards Buffy, slashing her upper arm and drawing crimson blood that scented the air. Spike vamped out, tackling his former love to the ground, the two of them rolling like wild dogs. Claws and fangs tore into each other, guttural snarls rending the air. Buffy couldn’t assist, the two vampires blurring into one and preventing her being able to attack Drusilla without being in danger of harming Spike. Reluctantly she stood to one side, waiting on her chance.
“CEASE!”
The sepulchural tone echoed off the stone walls, the scrabble on the floor stopping and the vampires getting to their feet. Drusilla simpered, scurrying behind the ephemeral form of her supposed master, while Spike growled, yellow eyed and angry.
“Take her, Drusilla. Make sure she is secured…I will deal with the vampire. It is time to begin.”
Buffy fought against her bonds, but with her wounded arm almost useless, the vampire’s preternatural strength won out. Spike now stood still, obviously in a trance, and the two of them were led out of the cell to meet their fate.
+ + + +
The demon led the gang of Slayers as promised. He could see no other option, the witch exerting some kind of control over his mind so that he could not lie no matter how hard he tried. And now they were at the master’s lair and he could see no escape.
“Here? You’re sure?” Giles barked out, anxious now to retrieve Buffy and see an end to the threat.
“He’s sure, Giles. It’s here.” Willow reassured herself and the watcher, and Faith jumped out of the car and gathered the slayers. Gaining access to the house wasn’t a problem; there were no wards that could withstand Willow’s assault and the wooden door soon splintered when Faith wielded the scythe. It was an ordinary, if large, house, mock Georgian – two stories with an attic, and a cellar by the below ground level access grilles. Faith threw back the remnants of the door and the girls and Giles poured in.
The demon who had reluctantly led them there spied his chance and melted away, his presence not missed as his usefulness had expired. He didn’t know whether to prepare for a world without mortals or not, so hedged his bets and headed for the nearest pub to wait it out.
Willow closed her eyes, opening her senses to their surroundings. Now that they were near, she could feel Buffy’s presence – faint, so most likely cloaked – and another familiar aura. She couldn’t quite place it, but had no time to think on it, other matters being more pressing. Delving deeper, she sensed the darkness of the being that was orchestrating the apocalypse, but could glean nothing more. Whatever it was, it was clever and anonymous, thus giving any enemies no information with which to arm themselves.
And something else. A chink – a portal…a hellmouth.
“Giles. I know why it’s here. I can’t believe we didn’t know about this…it’s no more than ten miles from the Council.”
“What is it?”
“A hellmouth.”
“It can’t be…are you…?”
“Sure? Yes – I think I can lay claim to being a little bit familiar with that particular phenomenon now. It’s only a very small breach in this reality and the guardian of it is jealously keeping it hidden for its own uses. We need to go down.”
They gave up any pretence at stealth. The being would be aware of their presence already, so speed would be their best weapon. Seventeen pairs of girly feet and a seasoned Slayer raced through the house to discover the entry to the cellar. Their way was barred by a hellbeast that attacked, ripping out the throat of one of the girls before they could subdue it. Their fallen comrade was mourned briefly before being stepped over as the rest sought to do their duty. There would be time enough later to observe her passing with due respect.
As Willow had expected, the brick and stone-lined cellar gave way to a cavern, bare rock and dampness glinting in the light of the slayers’ torches as they bobbed along. It took a handful of paces only before they encountered their adversary.
It was difficult to describe, formless. Not like the First – it had no discernible shape, shifting second to second, a multitude of faces and figures that blended endlessly into one. A bloody maw there, an infant crying there. It was horrible.
Willow’s eyes blackened, her lips moving as she began her incantations, trying everything in her arsenal to keep the beast distracted while the slayers did their job of rescuing Buffy and seeing an end to Drusilla and whatever else was in the way of saving the world. Giles carried a sword, circling Willow to do his best should the need arise.
Where was Buffy?
Faith and the slayers reached a dead end, doubling back to find themselves backed into a corner, the monster’s essence keeping them penned in. Sword and stakes were no good against it – passed right through it. And there was no sign of Buffy. Faith held her breath and ran right through the formless vapour – it was cold but she made it through, her heart racing. The slayers, seeing her success, followed suit, running until they found themselves back beside Willow and Giles.
“Willow! This is useless – we can’t fight it, and there’s no sign of B.”
Giles shouted above the crackling of magical force in the air. “I think this is a distraction. It needed Buffy for something – this is just an illusion. Believe nothing that you see, trust your instincts only. Find Buffy! She’s the catalyst needed to open the hellmouth.”
Faith nodded, barking out orders, the slayers splitting up into twos and heading off in all directions. Willow raised her arms, bringing her hands together with a clap, and the rolling vapour of their foe disappeared.
“One down…now let’s get on to the real fight.” She strode away, Giles following, trusting Willow to find her friend.
+ + + +
Buffy and Spike were bound together in the centre of a dark, sacred circle. Drusilla danced around them, muttering and chanting, and little by little Spike’s grip on reality was leaving him. The pain was returning, his memories clouding, and he could smell the slayer’s blood as it dripped slowly down her injured arm. His fangs were aching to bite her, rip her throat out. Make her his. She should be his.
“Yes, Spike…that’s it…feed, my sweet poet, and we can be together again, make the world ours…”
Buffy was unconscious, her head lolling to one side, exposing her jugular. Spike leaned in to her, licking up the throbbing vein and sniffing at her skin. So much blood…his for the taking…
He sank his teeth deep, gulping down her warm blood, Buffy coming to and struggling against him, screaming. His soul tore itself apart within him, pain flooding his senses, his throat still swallowing reflexively.
“Spike, no! Please no…please…”
Faith found them. Saw the vampire gorging himself on Buffy’s blood, felt herself draw the stake and move towards them. Drusilla launched herself at her before she could reach the bound pair, clawing at her eyes and screeching.
Seconds later she was a pile of dust as Faith’s younger companion made her first kill, burying her stake in Drusilla’s back as she fought. Leaving Faith free to take aim and see an end to B’s attacker.
Buffy saw Faith approach, trying to stop her, unable to reach out with her bound hands, her voice hoarse with screaming. Spike had his back to the dark-haired slayer, still drawing at her neck…but slowing. Buffy met his eyes… which were clearing, lucid. His lips, stained with her blood, were moving, forming her name. She could barely hear his whisper, saw him shake his head try to move away from her…She tried to grab hold of him, make him understand that she knew, that he’d been forced against his will…He mouthed her name again…
Faith was almost upon them, Buffy trying desperately to get her attention, fixed as it was on the vampire’s vulnerable back. Steps away…a few seconds at most…
“I’m sorry…Buffy…love you…”
In slow motion she saw Faith’s arm arc back, start to fall…
“Noooooooo!”
She twisted herself, trying to move Spike away from the stake so close to his heart now, drawing on her last reserves of strength to turn him around…
Faith tried to stop, she really did…but gravity and momentum were in charge now, the stake burying itself deep into Buffy’s flesh and through…piercing her beating heart, and that of the vampire she’d incomprehensibly tried to save.
Just before he dusted, Faith got a look at the vampire and howled…everything becoming clear. She sank to her knees, covered in his dust, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood that gushed from Buffy’s chest as she lay where she’d fallen as the bonds went slack.
Footsteps behind her heralded Willow’s arrival, along with Giles and the girls. But she didn’t tear her eyes away from Buffy, growing paler and stiller, her chest barely moving.
“Come on, B! Don’t fucking do this to me…I didn’t know…I didn’t know…”
She was frantic, pressing hard to stem the blood, covered in it, trying to do CPR…not knowing how…panicking…
Willow tried to get her to move away, but she wouldn’t, carrying on with her efforts.
“Dear god! Buffy! Faith…what have you…”
“Help me!”
Giles felt sick as he watched Buffy’s breathing slow, her chest movements almost nothing. He managed, with Willow’s help, to drag Faith away, staring at her hands covered in her friend’s blood and remembering…remembering…so long ago…
Giles took her place, making a better stab at the CPR, his hands compressing her wound whilst trying to keep her heart going.
Buffy’s hand gripping him lightly stopped him. He looked down into her eyes, leaned towards her to hear her whispered words.
“Let me go…”
“I can stop this…Willow will…”
Buffy shook her head, eyes closing, fluttering open.
“…need to…rest…need…him…please…”
Giles removed his hands from her chest, taking her cold hand in his. She smiled, mouthing thank you…
“Giles! Why did you stop? You’ve got to…Buffy!”
Willow grabbed hold of her friend, dragging her upright, shaking her. “Buffy! Wake up! Buffy!”
“Willow.”
“But…no, we can’t give up..we can get her to a hospital…”
“Willow. It’s over. She’s gone.”
+ + + +
Dawn stood by her sister’s graveside, a single white rose clutched in her fingers. She’d dreaded this day for so long that it was almost a relief that it was over. Giles and Willow stood off to one side to allow her this private time. Xander was inconsolable slumped in one of the chairs that had been set out for the ceremony.
And Faith. She blamed herself, but nobody else did. She was doing what she was trained to do – kill the vampire. And she had. But Buffy hadn’t wanted him to die alone. Not again. She didn’t want to leave him to die again.
Everybody was still in shock that Spike had been resurrected, and with nobody left to explain why, it would form the greater part of Giles’ research for the foreseeable future. But each of them acknowledged that it seemed fitting that the woman who had mourned her lost chance and lost love seemed to have had another opportunity to make it right.
A future they still had. Another apocalypse averted at the cost of yet more heroes. A very big price to pay.
And one that they would pay again, if they had to.
It’s what heroes did.
FINIS