Part 30

Drusilla


Finding the two teenagers took a little bit of time, for which Spike
was thankful. He had a royally pissed off Slayer on his hands, and
he had no idea what in hell he was going to say to get himself out of that
fire. She had a jealous streak, he was very much aware of it, but
he rarely ever gave her anything to be jealous about. Why would he
even look at other women when he had all he had ever wanted? Whatever she had seen, however, was enough to have made her completely quiet. She hadn’t said a word since warning Manon about Dru. That was bad, he knew, since when Buffy was merely angry, she was loud and in your face and right then. She was way beyond that now, he figured. He was a bit surprised that the storm hadn’t come yet, but was still sure it was coming.

Once they got home at last, she lead him to the kitchen, and warmed
two blood bags, their usual after patrol snack. She sat down on a
stool at the kitchen island, and he sat across from her. He didn’t
have to wait long, but though her voice was icy, the words were not what
he had expected.

“What is she doing here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, luv,” he replied quietly, before adding
with a half smile, “She said the stars told her to come.”

“The stars? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. She’s dust.”

The ice was melting fast, but there was still controlled anger in her
voice. He looked at her for a long moment, hesitating. But
finally, he asked gently:

“If she was my wife instead of my Mate, would you kill her so that I
would be yours?”

He saw the surprise in her widening eyes, and she reached to his hand
on the table, squeezing it lightly.

“It’s not like that!” she protested. “I want to stake her because
she killed Kendra. I owe it to Kendra.”

The words stung his tongue like poison, but he had to let them out.

“She killed one Slayer. I killed four. And you’re not planning
on staking me.”

She shook her head then, her gaze softening slightly.

“It’s different. You have changed. Plus you didn’t kill
four. Faith doesn’t count. And neither do I.”

At that moment, the microwave beeped, and she rose to grab the two mugs. It was easier that way for him, since he didn’t have to see her face as he admitted his unnatural feelings.

“Oh, yes, you do count, both of you. The guilt is the same.”

The last words were just a whisper, but she heard, all too well, and
turned to him, eyebrow raised, not understanding.

“The guilt? I told you not to feel guilty about me. And
Faith wanted to die, you said it yourself!”

“Just because she understood why she had to die, it doesn’t mean she
wanted to. Just like…”

He paused for a brief second, his eyes on the dark liquid in the mug
he held, unable to meet her gaze as he murmured the rest.

“Just like seeing why I have to live doesn’t mean I want to.”

Her soft hand reached to his cheek, pulled his face up gently until
his eyes met hers.

“You don’t want to be human?”

“I want to be me, Buffy,” he replied hesitantly as he covered her hand
with his. “I want to be the man you fell in love with.”

“But it will still be you.”

He shook his head lightly.

“You don’t know that. I don’t know that. Angel with a soul
is not the same as Angel with no soul. Why would it be different
for me? Goodbye Spike, hello William. After two minutes with
him you’ll run away laughing.”

He said the last part bitterly, and she answered in her gentlest voice.

“No I won’t. Because I know there’s more of William in you than
what you admit. Where do you think your guilt comes from?”

He had no idea, and that was part of the problem. He tried to
force a smirk on his lips as he answered: “Insanity?”

She recognized his feeble attempt at lightening the atmosphere, and
replied to it with a faint smile.

“You’re insane if you think I’ll stop loving you.”


* * * * *


Buffy watched her lover, just as he watched her, both silent, both having
feared to lose the other’s love, both now reassured. Or almost…

“So you promise you’ll still love me when I’m human?” he asked at last,
still a bit hesitant.

She walked around the island to him and climbed on his lap, pressing
a kiss to his lips.

“I promise.”

His arms encircled her, holding her tight against him, and she nuzzled
the crook of his neck. Soon, he was asking again, whispering:

“Will you still love me when I ask you not to kill Dru?”

Suppressing a sigh, she pressed her face closer to his neck, nipping with blunt teeth. Why did he have to bring her back in the conversation?

“Spike…I remember a time you offered to stake her for me.”

“Her death would have served a purpose then. It would have proved
to you just how much I loved you. Her death today would mean nothing.”

Oh yes, it would mean a lot. More than she would admit out loud. All she could do was name her acceptable excuse.

“Kendra.”

His reply was immediate and expressionless. “Four Slayers.”

She didn’t protest again that only two were true kills. Whatever
she thought, in his own eyes he had killed her and Faith. And he
felt guilty about it. She was the one who had asked him to kill Faith,
so it was her fault. But she still couldn’t understand why he was
so protective of Drusilla. What was she exactly for him?

“Do you ask this of me because she’s your Mate?” she asked carefully.
“Am I supposed to be content that someone else can claim you as theirs?”

He sighed then, a deep, tired sigh, and tenderly brought her face up
so he could look at her, resting his forehead against hers.

“We will soon be humans, luv. Whatever link exists between her
and me won’t matter then. Listen, I am not in love with her any more. You have all my heart, be sure of that. But I just cannot stop caring. If for no other reason that if not for her, I wouldn’t be here with you today.”

“But Angel is your Sire,” she protested, confused.

“He sired me,” he acquiesced softly. “But Dru found me.
Chose me.”

She remembered then what he had said, long ago, while both she and Drusilla were chained in his crypt.

“The face of your salvation,” she murmured.

He blinked twice, apparently surprised that she had remembered.
Then he smiled, very slightly.

“She was,” he said as he caressed her cheek. “But now you are.”

His words made her feel warm, loved, and she closed the distance that
separated their lips, just brushing her mouth to his.

“I won’t hunt her,” she said softly. “But if I find her killing
in my town…”

She didn’t need to voice the threat. He knew. After all,
not that long ago, she had been ready to stake him when she thought he was killing. His fingers glided to her hair, freeing it from her ponytail before stroking it lightly.

“You won’t find her, luv. She will leave.”

He sounded sure of himself, too sure, and she almost asked him how he
could know that. His tongue tracing a path down her neck, however,
distracted her, and quickly Drusilla was the farthest thing from her mind.


* * * * *


She was aware she was dreaming, knew her body was tangled with Spike’s
in their bed. At the same time she knew it wasn’t an ordinary dream. Nor was it a Slayer dream. This was something different altogether.

She glanced down at herself, finding that she was clothed in garments
from another century. A doll’s dress. Her surroundings became
clearer, as if her eyes were focusing at last, and it didn’t take long
for her to recognize where she was. Angel’s mansion.

There was a light chuckle behind her and she turned quickly, not
really surprised at finding Drusilla in front of her.

“Come to me,” the vampiress said softly. “I will show you games
I used to play with my William. He is mine, you know?”

Before Buffy could reply, or act on her desire for violence, Drusilla
was gone, as was the mansion, and she drifted into real dreams.

Part 31

Betrayal…


Buffy was distracted all day long, still thinking about her dream that wasn’t a dream. She was convinced that it had been Drusilla’s idea of an invitation. But an invitation to what? A tea party with her dolls? A talk between the ex and the current girlfriend? A fight?

Several times, she thought about telling Spike about it. But after
their talk of the previous night, she was almost certain of his reaction.
He’d use any means necessary to keep her from the mansion and probably
go himself. But, again, to do what?

As evening approached, Buffy made up her mind. She had missed
her writing class the week before, and she told Manon and Spike that she
would leave patrolling to them to go to school and catch up on her class. The two eyed each other, Manon still a bit suspicious of the vampire, Spike curious at her reaction. She wasn’t on her guard as much around him as she had been at first, but her Watcher certainly was. It was finally agreed that Andrea would accompany them, as she adamantly refused to leave her Slayer alone with the Slayer of Slayers.

At nightfall, Spike drove her to the college. She entered the
building, waited a couple of minutes until she was sure he was gone, and
then was striding purposefully toward the mansion. Just a little
talk, she told herself on the way. She just needed to make it clear
to the crazy one that Spike was hers now. No thoughts of hurting
Drusilla. She had told Spike she wouldn’t hunt her, and truly she
wasn’t hunting. Just a talk. Just an overdue explanation between two reasonable adults. Well, at least she could be reasonable. She could only hope that she would find Drusilla in one of her moments of semi-sanity.

When she pushed the door open, its sinister creaking echoed in the large
entry room. Angel hadn’t resided here for several years, since she
had been turned, actually. Why he hadn’t sold the building, she had no
idea. It wasn’t like there was anything waiting for him in Sunnydale
anymore. Or anyone.

She stepped in carefully, focused on her senses. It didn’t take
her long to spot Drusilla in the dimly lit room. The brunette approached her, smiling brightly.

“My William’s Childe has arrived,” she said in a singsong voice.
“How nice of you to come to my party!”

“He is not yours,” Buffy said firmly, her hand clutching the stake in
her duster’s pocket.

Drusilla eyes glowed yellow as she came closer to Buffy.

“My Mate,” she growled. “You stole his heart, you are taking his
mind, but you can’t have that. Mine.”

Her gaze softened, her eyes returning to light brown, and she smiled
dreamily.

“He’s mine, but I will share,” she chuckled. “If you’re a good
girl we can be a nice family. We’ll get Daddy’s boy also. Then maybe
Daddy will come to us too. A big family, you will see. You would like that,
wouldn’t you?”

Buffy was about to answer to that, protest, deny, claim her Sire, threaten
the mad woman. But she suddenly realized she had made a mistake. A very dire mistake. Just the night before, she had warned Manon against doing this very thing. And her anger at the woman had made her forget about it. She had looked into her eyes. She still was looking in them. Now she was following her fingers waving in front of her face. And couldn’t make herself look away. Couldn’t even… think… any…


* * * * *


After dropping Buffy off at school, Spike drove to the Magic Box to
join the young Slayer and her Watcher. When he entered the shop however, only Anya was there.

“Hey, demon girl. Where’s the European crew?”

Never stopping her dusting of the shelves, she glanced at him before
gesturing toward the training room.

“Practicing, as usual. Except for Giles, he said he was going
home. He mentioned something about being tired and not getting much sleep since he’s been here. And I don’t think he meant he is too
worried to sleep.”

Spike stifled a laugh at the questioning eyebrow Anya was raising at him.

“It’s not that hard, you know,” she added after a second, more serious now.

“What isn’t?” he replied absently.

There was something off about her, but he couldn’t quite put a finger
on it. Something had changed. She was the same, and yet, different.

“Being human,” she explained, stopping her cleaning to turn to him.
“It’s weird in the beginning, but you’ll get used to it. I was scared
senseless at first too when I...”

“Hey!” he interrupted her, offended. “You’re forgetting who you’re
talking to! I am not scared!”

She watched him for a moment, before shrugging and getting back to her
shelves.

“I know who I’m talking to. The same guy who was all upset a few
days ago because he thought he had been given a soul.”

Before Spike could find an answer to that, Manon and her Watcher were
coming out of the back room, laughing together. They became very
serious when they saw him, almost grim, and he was tempted to walk away
and let them patrol by themselves. They didn’t want him with them
anyway. And they most certainly could take a few vamps by themselves. It wasn’t like he had nothing better to do than play babysitter to a new Slayer. For one thing, he needed to find Dru and make sure she was going to leave town quickly. An ironic thought hit him, then. Insane Drusilla would soon be the oldest vampire of the Aurelius line. Bloody hilarious, that.

Yes, he had to make her leave Sunnyhell. But that would have to
wait. Right now, he had to act as bodyguard to the French girl, even
if she wasn’t even talking to him tonight as they patrolled, preferring
to chat quietly with her Watcher. Grinding his teeth, he followed
the pair through three cemeteries, giving a hand only once when they stumbled on four fledglings, and earning for his trouble identical glares from both girls. That was the last straw.

“Bloody hell! What’s wrong with you women?” he spat out angrily. “Can’t you see I’m trying to help?”

“I’m sure you were trying to help when you killed Faith, too,” the Watcher
replied icily.

“As a matter of fact, I was,” he replied just as coldly. “With
you bloody Watchers ready to kill her, at least now she’s free.”

“How dare you!” she shouted back. “You’re the one who kills Slayers! The Council does all it can to protect them!”

Throwing his hands in the air, Spike turned away, giving up. After
a few steps however, he glanced back at the glowering woman.

“We owed the Council a favor. That’s what they asked from us.
To give them a new Slayer. Only way to do that was to kill the old
one. I may be guilty for doing it, but they are as guilty for asking
it. How well do you know your father and his methods, Travers?”

For a brief instant, there was a flash of doubt on the Watcher’s face,
then it was gone. Manon herself seemed puzzled, and a little thoughtful. He did leave them, then, striding away and out of the cemetery. He had no proof to offer them, and they certainly weren’t going to take his word for it. He shouldn’t even have tried. After all, he was just a killer. Of course they were wary of him. As well they should be.

Within a few minutes, he had returned to his car and was driving toward
the college. He was there a bit too early, but he didn’t mind waiting. That would give him a chance to cool down before his Slayer joined him. Leaning against the car in the parking lot, he had the time to smoke a couple of cigarettes before students started coming out of the building. He had managed to steal back the packet and lighter from Buffy’s pocket as he drove her to school earlier. It was strange that she had been wearing her duster, now that he thought of it. She never wore it to class.

The stream of students was thinning out now, and still no Buffy.
He noticed a couple of girls he knew Buffy was friends with, and approached
them, asking if they had seen her. They hadn’t. She hadn’t
been to class. As he heard this, he knew immediately where she had
gone. And he cursed himself for not seeing it coming. Now,
he really had to find Dru, fast, and just hope nothing had happened to
his Childe.

If Drusilla hadn’t changed, she had certainly made her lair in a place
she was familiar with. She liked staying in places she already knew. Or at least, she used to like it. His first try was the old factory. Nothing there but charred remains and old memories. Wasn’t anyone ever going to clean the damn place? Or destroy it?

Next, he tried his crypt. If she had come to Sunnyhell to meet
him, it made sense that she would look for him in the last place where
she had seen him, and maybe even stay there. He left skid marks on
the road as he sped his way to the cemetery, but again, he found nothing. Except for a very faint scent. Dru had been there. She hadn’t stayed, but she had been in the crypt, not long ago.

There was just one last possibility he could think of, one he hated
with his whole being. Cursing, he drove to the mansion. As
soon as he got out of the car, he could tell that he had been right. Drusilla
was there. And so was his Slayer.

Part 32

…and Trust


It was his voice that she was aware of first. Spike was cooing
into her ear, inviting her to open her eyes. She did just that, though
more as a reflex than from her own will. She felt very strange, as
if she was wrapped in cotton, all her senses dimmed. She couldn’t
even feel him, though she could see his face. Why couldn’t she feel
her Sire while he was sitting on the bed next to her? Why was he
looking at her so maliciously? Why was she bound to the bed?
She tugged at her restraints, but they didn’t move. She felt so weak,
as if all her energy had been drained from her. Not only her energy,
she realized. Her blood. There was blood on his lips, and she
was sure it was hers. As if confirming her thoughts, he leaned over
her and fastened his mouth to her neck. She could feel the pull as
he drank from her, and for the first time ever she didn’t like it, wanted
him to stop. She tried to wiggle away from his touch, but without
success. Finally, he let go.

“You taste like him,” he said softly.

Buffy frowned, trying to understand who it was she supposedly tasted
like. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Spike was being
so strange. So unlike himself. Why? What was happening? Her still cloudy mind remembered coming to the mansion, talking to Drusilla… Then nothing until waking in this bed. She thought she was still in the mansion. Why was Spike here? He was supposed to be on patrol with Manon. Had he joined Drusilla before she arrived? How had he known where she was? Why was he so different?

“Spike?” she managed to say despite her dry throat. “What’s going
on? Untie me, please.”

He chuckled lightly as she pleaded for her release.

“Later, you will be free, and we will hunt together. But we will
play a little before that. Don’t you want to play with me, Princess?”

The voice was his, so was the face, but the words? What did he mean, hunt together? Why was he calling her Princess? That was his pet name for Drusilla, not for her, never for her. And what game…

Excruciating pain snapped Buffy out of her thoughts and she screamed. When the burning subsided a little, her eyes focused again on her Sire as he dropped more liquid on her bare front. It felt like molten lava being poured on her, and despite her efforts she could not escape it. She couldn’t even manage to talk, could only watch him and beg with her eyes as he smirked at her.

“Are we having fun yet, Princess?” he murmured in her ear. “We’ll
have even more fun later, you will see. We will bathe in blood and
dance under the stars…”

The stars? Why did that word sound so significant suddenly?

Before Buffy could think about it any more, the pain started again.
Drop by drop, sizzling on her skin, until her mind went almost blank, only
filled with the image of these eyes above her, usually so loving when they
looked at her, now so cold, so cruel…

The pain stopped again. It took her a few seconds to shake herself
out of her torpor, and when she did she could see that he had moved.
He was almost by the door now. And Drusilla was in his arms.

That image hurt even more than the torture had. She shut her eyes
tight, freeing two tears as she did so. Something had happened to
Spike, something had changed him. She had lost him.

When she opened her eyes again, he was untying the ropes that bound
her to the bed. Drusilla had disappeared from the room. She
didn’t know what he was planning now, but she couldn’t let it happen.
The man she had loved was gone. It was a beast who was now murmuring sweet nothings to her.

Gathering what little force she had left, she pushed him as hard as
she could and he fell to the floor. Before he could get back to his
feet, she scrambled off the bed and pinned him down. There was a
stake near her, she grabbed it, raised it above her head, and plunged it
down thoughtlessly. At the instant her arm started moving, time slowed. Her eyes found his, and she was startled at seeing that all the hardness from before was gone. Instead, there was only love in the deep blue. Love and trust.

A question of trust.

Her arm faltered, then fell down limply at her side. She had just
realized that she could feel his presence again, unlike before. He
was still unmoving under her, despite the way she had threatened him.
As if he had known she wouldn’t go through it. He trusted her.

Just remember everything.

His face was so serious. His eyes seemed to be looking straight
into her soul. When had he last looked at her like this? Not
very long ago…

“What am I to you?” she murmured, remembering at last.

“Everything.”

The quiet voice was all she needed to understand. Not him.
Whatever had happened, it hadn’t been him. She was everything to
him, and he would never hurt her.

Losing control over herself, she started sobbing as she buried her face
against his chest. Instantly, his arms were holding her tightly,
and he was whispering comforting words she didn’t even try to understand.


* * * * *


As Spike made his way into the dark and silent house, a sudden shout
startled him. Despite the pain distorting the voice, he would have
recognized it anywhere. Buffy’s. He ran in the direction of
the cry. The master bedroom. Of course, it had to be that room. As he pushed the door open, he froze at the scene in front of him. His Childe was bound to the bed, her blouse ripped open, moaning in pain. His Mate was sprinkling water on her exposed skin. By the sizzling and burning, holy water. One of Dru’s favorite toys, as he well knew.

The brunette, who was sitting on the bed beside Buffy, got to her feet
as he entered the room, smiling at him, her lips stained with blood.

“She’ll be one of ours soon,” she said gleefully. “When her soul
is broken, we can be sisters. And we can all go hunting together. Be a family again.”

She opened her arms as she approached him, pulling him into a tight
embrace. Numbly, he let her do it, and allowed his own arms to close
around her. His eyes were still on Buffy, and he felt like screaming at
seeing her helpless and hurt. Yet no words were coming out of his
tight throat. Trying to explain to Drusilla was useless. He
shifted his gaze to her, and she was still smiling, content with herself.
She didn’t even realize…

He didn’t have to think about it, and some part of him was happy about
that. If he had hesitated, he would never have forgiven himself.
Drusilla looked up at him when the stake pierced her back, utter incomprehension filling her face. He understood then, that in her damaged mind, she had done this for him. That didn’t stop his hand, but when her ashes fell down at his feet, his eyes were full of tears. Tears for the beautiful young girl whose mind had been shattered so long ago and who thought torture was a way to make people love you. Tears for his Slayer, harmed because he had been too blind to admit that Dru was a danger to her. Tears for himself, as one more person he had cared for walked out of his life.

As if in a dream, he watched himself go to the bed and free Buffy’s
legs. Moving to the side, he untied one of her arms, and then the
other, wincing as his gaze trailed over the blistered burns on her skin,
the still bloody puncture marks on the side of her neck, the glazed look
in her eyes. When she was free at last, he murmured sweet words to
break her out of the thrall, reaching to stroke her cheek. He didn’t
have time to touch her however, as she surprised him by grabbing his hand
and pushing him off the bed. He fell backward, banging his head hard
on the wooden floor, stunned for an instant. Before he could understand what had happened, Buffy was sitting across his stomach, and he could only watch as she thrust the stake he had used only instants before toward his chest. She stopped suddenly, and her gaze didn’t seem as cloudy as before. Her arm fell to her side, and still she was looking at him, as if searching for something.

“What am I to you?” she whispered.

He had heard the question before, and the answer was still the same.

“Everything.”

The reply seemed to break the last of the thrall, and she fell against
him, crying. He hugged her for a long time, letting her sob for the
physical pain as much as the mental agony he could only guess she had endured. Still trying to soothe her with words and tender caresses, he managed to sit down, leaning against the bed, cradling her on his lap. When her tears had dried finally, he guided her face gently to his neck and
pressed it there. She accepted the offer, biting with less care than
she usually showed and drinking greedily until he hissed that she was taking
too much. She stopped then, giving a last lick at the closing marks. Soon, she was asleep in his arms.

He managed to get to his feet without waking her, and carried her out
of the bedroom, away from that place of torture and death. He found
a couch that wasn’t too dusty and sat down on it, still holding her close,
still caressing her golden locks. In her sleep, she looked peaceful
again, and he could almost forget what she had gone through. Almost. Hopefully, she had been deep enough under Drusilla’s influence not to remember too clearly what had happened. Maybe even not at all if she was lucky.

When he felt that the sun would soon be rising, he didn’t have the heart
to wake her to take her back home. It wouldn’t be the first time
they had spent a night and the following day away from Revello, and he
knew Dawn wouldn’t worry about it. Shifting his body and his Slayer’s
to a more comfortable position, he tried to join her in sleep. He
wasn’t able to, however. When Buffy woke, almost twenty hours later,
he was still holding her, still watching her.

Part 33

Ashes and Blood


Buffy’s rest was quiet and peaceful, no dreams or nightmares disturbing
her mind. Even while asleep, some part of her was aware of the strong
arms protecting her, making her feel safe. She woke slowly, purring
at the comforting presence against her. The purrs stopped when she
shifted slightly and the blisters on her chest and stomach made their painful
reminders to her. Her eyes fluttered open, finding the worried face
of her Sire only inches from hers. He smiled, very faintly, uncertainly. She wondered why he was so hesitant, then remembered that she had almost killed him. Of its own will, her hand rose to his face, and he leaned into her touch.

“Hey, you,” he whispered. “How do you feel?”

She gave him a half smile. “Better. Hungry.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I know, luv. Ready to
go home?”

She nodded, then frowned. “What time is it?”

“Sun set a couple of hours ago,” he replied as he brushed a strand of
hair off her face.

Sunset? Already? That meant she had slept almost for a full
day and night.

“You should have woken me,” she protested weakly.

“You needed to rest.”

He sounded apologetic as he said this, but she knew it wasn’t about
letting her sleep the day away. He confirmed her thoughts by saying:

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I should have…”

She placed a finger across his lips to silence him, and he kissed it lightly.

“Don’t. I rushed to her, knowing she was dangerous.”

His face was suddenly expressionless. “Do you remember what happened?”

Again, she frowned, and rubbed her cheek against him, breathing in that
comforting scent that was purely him.

“I just came to talk,” she said, her voice muffled. “She did her
mojo on me…made me see…made me believe…”

Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know that it was him she had seen torturing her. But he didn’t give her a choice.

“Made you see what, luv?” he insisted. “Let it all out.
Tell me.”

“You,” she whispered at last. “She had your face when she…that’s
why I tried to…”

She let out a dry sob and he hugged her tighter.

“Oh Buffy…pet…”

He rocked her lightly, and she was almost falling asleep again, when
a question invaded her mind.

“Where is she?” she asked uncertainly. “Did she run away?”

“Shh… Don’t worry about her. She can’t hurt you anymore. She won’t come back.”

The words alone could have let her believe that Drusilla had simply
left once and for all. But the tone of Spike’s voice added a precision
to his reassurance. She wouldn’t come back because she was dust. He had killed someone he had loved for a century. For her. She didn’t know what to say. She was happy that the insane vampiress was out of the picture, but she could imagine only too well what it had been like for him to kill her. She knew, because she had been in his place. Except that she hadn’t dusted her ex-lover, she had sent him to hell. In this same house.

As if summoned by her grim thoughts, Angel chose that moment to enter
the mansion, a travel bag in each hand. He didn’t look very surprised
at seeing them in his home, but rather somewhere between annoyed and amused.

“If I had known you two use the mansion as a love nest, I would have
asked for…”

His half smile disappeared and his eyes widened as he walked in front
of the couch and looked at the huddled couple. Buffy was suddenly
very conscious that her top was in shreds, exposing the many burns that
marred her skin. Spike seemed to realize the same thing, because
he shifted her in his arms so that she was facing him, her chest pressed
to his, his arms tight on her back.

“What the hell happened?” Angel asked harshly.

From where she was lying by his side, Buffy could only see half Spike’s
face. She realized he looked tired, so very tired… Had she
taken too much of his blood the night before? She hadn’t been very
lucid at the time, and could hardly remember. She could also see
the anger slowly taking him. That didn’t surprise her. More
and more often, when he and Angel were in the same room, it ended with
shouting and murderous glares. But she wasn’t in the mood for another round of their games.

“Spike, let’s go home now, please,” she requested softly.

His eyes left Angel, and he brushed his lips on her cheek. “Yes, luv.”

Cautiously, he rose from the couch, holding her in his arms still.
He let her feet down to the floor, making sure that her back was still
to Angel. Apparently, the older vampire was getting angry at not
receiving an answer to his question, because he growled:

“Spike! Tell me what is going on!”

Spike was still silent, though he was scowling. Buffy watched
him shrug out of his duster and take off his shirt, exposing pale and perfect
skin. He helped her slip it on over her ripped top, and carefully
buttoned it for her. Only then did he look at Angel over her shoulder,
and said blandly:

“Drusilla. Remember her? Your other non-Childe? The
one you didn’t torture into insanity?”

Buffy shook her head, catching Spike’s attention, and pleaded silently
with her eyes for him to stop. He seemed to understand and took a
deep calming breath.

“Do you want my duster too, luv?” he proposed softly, once again ignoring
Angel.

She was about to accept, more to be surrounded by his scent than for
the protection of the leather, but she suddenly remembered her own duster
was somewhere around. She voiced the thought, and saw Spike wince.

“I’ll find it, just give me a minute.”

He placed a quick kiss on her lips and walked by her, toward the bedroom. Feeling a bit weak, Buffy sat down on the couch, finding Angel right in front of her. He looked very upset, even anguished.

“Buffy…are you alright?”

She nodded, though she could tell he didn’t believe her. He seemed
to hesitate for a second, then turned his back on her and walked the way
Spike had gone. She gave a deep sigh, and made the mental wish that they wouldn’t jump at each other’s throat once more, because she really
didn’t feel up to stepping between them.


* * * * *


With the conscious effort of not looking at a certain part of the floor,
Spike’s gaze swept over the bedroom, quickly finding Buffy’s duster in
the corner behind the bed. Carefully walking around the spot he still
wasn’t looking at, he crossed the room to retrieve the piece of leather.

Torture her until she likes me again.

When he turned back, his eyes were finally drawn to Drusilla’s ashes,
and he froze. He had staked countless vampires, both before and after meeting his Slayer, but these few ounces of ashes were painful to look
at. A century, reduced to dust. Had he not insisted so stubbornly that they become Mates, all those years ago, would she have come back for this?

Kill her for princess?

Shaking himself out of his torpor, he took a step toward the door, and
only then noticed Angel standing by the doorway. His gaze was on
the same dusty spot on the floor, and slowly moved up to meet Spike’s.

“Did Buffy…?”

He made a small gesture toward the floor, completing the question silently.

“No. I did.”

Despite Spike’s wish to appear impassive, there was a hint of his pain
in the words. He had killed Dru. Him. He had killed his
own Mate, choosing his Childe over her. And he would again, a million
times if necessary. But it would never stop hurting.

Right person. Person I loved. I'd do it.

“I am sorry,” Angel said softly, and there were tears in his eyes.

“Sorry for what?” Spike replied, and this time he managed to make his
voice expressionless.

Angel surprised the younger vampire by his answer.

“Sorry for not knowing what you expect from me.”

Spike gave a short laugh that was anything but joyful.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he said with a shrug. “Nothing
good, that is.”

Angel shook his head, but did not comment. His eyes were back
to the floor, and Spike had the clear feeling that he would grieve for
Drusilla, despite whatever she might have done to Buffy, despite the fact
that he would have staked her too, had he been in Spike’s place.

I'm gonna prove something. I love you.

Trying not to think about either vampire anymore, Spike walked past
him and out of the room. Forcing a kind smile to his lips, he helped
his Slayer slide her duster on, before putting on his own to cover his
bare back. Then he led her out of the mansion, aware that Angel watched them leave. The ride home was done in silence, with Buffy resting against his shoulder. Spike still felt too numb to think, both from what he had seen and what he had done, and was grateful for the quiet.

I'm nothing without her.

When they reached Revello Drive, the Watcher practically pounced on
them, blabbering excitedly. Spike left his Slayer in the living room
to deal with the small talk with him, Dawn, and Steven (the latter two
in a comfortable teen tangle on the couch), and busied himself in the kitchen
with warming blood. Two bags each, to begin with. From what
he overheard, no one commented on their absence the night before.
Spike being shirtless might have given them an idea of why they hadn’t
come home earlier. Instead, the frenzied conversation involved Giles
prattling on about finishing the translation, the Nibblet talking about
the Witches coming back early from their trip, and Steven talking about
“Daddy” coming from LA so he could hear about the prophecy along with everyone else. Which, apparently, would be the next day. General Scoobies meeting, nightfall at the Magic box. Bloody wonderful.

You're all covered with her. I look at you...all I see is the
Slayer.

Buffy was mostly quiet during the assault, only mentioning, briefly,
that Angel was already in town. When Spike came in to give her the
first mug of blood, she smiled at him gratefully before drinking it in
one long gulp, and suddenly the Watcher was very quiet. He still
hadn’t gotten over the idea of her being a vamp, apparently. Which,
of course, explained why he had been so excited ever since he had heard
she would soon be human again. Spike couldn’t blame him, really. He knew the man loved his Slayer like his own daughter, and wanted the best for her. In the Watcher’s mind, of course, the best didn’t involve drinking blood, having fangs and being undead.

I’ll dance with you, pet. On the Slayer’s grave.

Once Buffy had emptied her cup, Spike replaced it with another full
one, which she drank more slowly. That, at last, brought some comments.

“Are you OK Buffy?” Dawn asked, a bit worried. “You never drink
that much unless you’re hurt.”

His courageous little Slayer gave her sister a large smile.

I knew ...before you did. I knew you loved the Slayer.

“I’m fine, Dawnie. Just hungry.”

“And tired,” Spike added for her.

Buffy frowned slightly, but confirmed his words. “Yes, tired too.
I’ll just go rest now.”

It was just one more clue that she wasn’t well that she hadn’t protested
about not patrolling. Spike had seen the after effects of the thrall
often enough to know that they varied every time. Sometimes, people shrugged off the experience as if nothing had happened to them, and sometimes they felt like they had run three marathons in a row. No way to predict beforehand which it would be.

We can love quite well. If not wisely.

He helped her up the steps as inconspicuously as possible, wrapping an arm around her waist as if flirting. Once in their bedroom, he undressed her. She protested that she could do it alone, but he didn’t let that stop him. Next he prepared a nice hot bath, full of vanilla scented bubbles, just as she liked it. He stepped in the tub with her, cradling her against him, massaging her skin gently until she was purring. He coaxed her into taking some blood from him, with the idea that nothing would make her feel better faster than her Sire’s blood. She fell asleep with her mouth to his shoulder, still in game face.

Effulgent.



****************************

Part 34

The Gang’s All Here


Despite Buffy’s assurances, Dawn could tell that something was going
on. The two cups of blood in a row the night before had been a hint
- she had lived with two vampires for three years, she knew how often and
how much they needed to feed. Buffy remaining in her room all day,
with Spike bringing her food, was another clue. If she hadn’t known
better, Dawn would have thought her sister was ill. But vampires
couldn’t get ill, could they?

Steven had gone to the mansion to see his father, which had presented
Dawn with a cruel dilemma. Go with him, and see the big poof, or
stay home and be separated from her honey for a few hours. In the
end, she had let him go alone. She figured he could use some one
on one time with his father. And if she managed to corner Spike,
she could have a little conversation with him. About Buffy’s health,
and other things too.

After spending almost two weeks with Steven practically 24/7, it was
a bit weird not to have him by her side for even a little while.
They had been doing all sorts of things together, going to movies, to the
beach, picnicking, just walking around together, as well as other activities
Dawn couldn’t think of without heat rising in her cheeks. All of
this, except for the last, they had done before, but always with a chaperone,
and it was nice to be able to be alone with him at last. It gave
them time to talk. And talked they had, a lot. About what they
expected from each other. What they wanted from life. How they saw their future. Supposing, of course, that they would have a future. After living on the Hellmouth for a while, one learned to be careful about long-term projects.

The future post-apocalypse, as Dawn saw it, involved her going to college
while continuing her not so long distance relationship with Steven.
He needed to stay in LA, since he was an employee of Angels Investigations,
and there wasn’t really any other job he had any qualifications for.
Or that he wanted to do. That was one thing about him Dawn wasn’t
sure whether she liked or disliked. Probably both. She was
proud that he was fighting the good fight, of course, just like she was
proud of Buffy. But she was more afraid for him than she had ever
been for her sister. Buffy was the Slayer, and graced with super
strength and super healing abilities. Steven wasn’t defenseless,
far from it, but his wounds healed no faster than any human’s.

With Dawn in Sunnydale and Steven in LA, one of them would need to borrow
a car every now and then so that they could see each other more often. Steven was supposedly going to start talking Angel into it, and Dawn would need to do the same thing with Spike. Not quite yet, though. Before she could do that, she had to smooth things over between them. And not just for the car.

Ever since he and Buffy had come back from LA with Steven, ever since
that heated conversation in the staircase and the half-assed making up
that had followed, he had been kind of cold to her, and to Steven too.
Or rather, not cold. He couldn’t be cold when he wasn’t talking to
them any more than absolutely necessary.

Sometime around 3 pm, she walked into the kitchen and found Spike there. He was cleaning mugs, Dawn having long ago made the point that, while she didn’t mind washing dishes, touching anything that had held blood would never be part of her chores.

“How is Buffy?” she asked as she sat on a stool behind him.

“Better. She just needed rest.”

So, something had indeed happened. If she was better now, it implied
she hadn’t been so well before.

“What happened?”

The stiffening of Spike’s back let her guess his answer even before
he spoke.

“Nothing of interest to you.”

“Is this my punishment?” she asked as he was silent again, still busy
with his washing. “I ask you to give me space so you shut me out?”

He turned to her then, and he looked so tired that she wondered when
he had last slept.

“Not everything is about you,” he said, mildly annoyed. “And you
don’t need to know everything.”

He leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms. He wasn’t
finished yet, Dawn was sure of it, and she waited for the rest. He
watched her pensively for a short moment before finally saying:

“You didn’t ask for space. You threw me out of your life.”

“I did no such thing,” she protested, frowning.

“Not your brother, not your father,” he quoted to her, his voice bitter.
“In other words, nothing.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said truthfully. “I’m sorry
if that’s what it sounded like to you. But try to see things from
my point of view. You’ve been on our backs for months! How
would you have reacted to someone putting themselves between you and Buffy like that?”

As she took a deep breath and tried to calm herself, Dawn scolded herself
mentally. She had wanted to make up with him, and here she was, speaking angrily again.

“It was different,” Spike replied matter of factly. “We were older
than…”

“Oh, come on!” she interrupted him. “Maybe you were born more
than a hundred years ago, but where Buffy is concerned you act like a teenager!”

“I bloody well do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

Buffy’s laugh stopped their bickering. She walked into the kitchen,
looking much better than the last time Dawn had seen her. She was
wearing tight brown leather pants and a red shirt that suspiciously looked
like one of Spike’s.

“What are you children arguing about?” she asked playfully.

“We are not arguing,” they replied at the same time, and Spike gave
Dawn one of these half smiles she had missed so much the past few days.

Shaking her head and still chuckling, Buffy walked to Spike. He
opened his arms to her and she slipped into his embrace, nuzzling his neck. Dawn suddenly wondered whether she and Steven looked so sickeningly sweet when they cuddled. Or maybe she found it sickening because he had been gone for four hours already. In any case, that proved her point about Spike acting like a teen, and put Buffy in the same age category. She didn’t expect that they would agree with her, however, so she kept the thought to herself, and instead said:

“I didn’t want to argue with you. I guess what I wanted to say
is, I apologize for having been so harsh. I was annoyed by your behavior, more pissed off than annoyed actually, and I should have told you that instead of pushing you away. I really didn’t mean to hurt you, and
I’m sorry I did. You’re not my brother or my father, but you’re the
closest thing to them I have. As well as one of my best friends.”

The words had come out in a rush, and now Dawn was waiting for a reaction. Yet Spike remained impassive for a moment that seemed to last forever. With her cheek against his shoulder, Buffy was smiling slightly. She had questioned Dawn the day after her confrontation with Spike, and had given her the first clue that he had taken her words very much at heart. She poked Spike in the side, presumably signaling to him that it was time to meet Dawn halfway.

“Maybe I was a little overprotective,” Spike said at last. “Maybe
I should have seen you’ve grown up.”

He gave her a tentative smile, and she understood it was his way to
accept her apology as well as to offer his.


* * * * *


Willow and Tara’s plane had landed a little after 5 pm, and Dawn had
been volunteered by Buffy to go pick them up in Spike’s car. Steven,
of course, went along. Even before going to their apartment, Dawn
drove the Witches to Revello, and Buffy welcomed them with hugs and a bright smile. They had been gone since the beginning of the summer, on a tour in the British islands. They had kept in contact through emails, but Buffy still wanted to hear everything about their trip. They
complied eagerly, completing their story with pictures. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and before long Buffy was saying out loud that she wished she could have gone with them. The statement brought a frown to Spike’s face. He had been listening to the Witches, mostly quietly but with a few comments or questions every now and then. He didn’t say a word as he frowned, but Buffy understood the message very clearly. He had been asking her for months to go on a trip with him, anywhere she wanted, just a few days away from Sunnydale. But there was always something to stop her. Dawn, their work, slaying, school. What if they had accompanied Willow and Tara overseas? No call from the Council. No dealing with Faith. No Drusilla…

Spike hadn’t said a word about her since the previous night, and Buffy
couldn’t help but wonder how he felt about having killed her. If
he was hurting, he was hiding it very well. All he had done since
he had staked her was take care of Buffy. Nothing else. He
was hovering around her like a protective mother hen, making sure she fed,
cleaning her wounds even though they just needed time to heal. He
had even placed a band-aid on her neck, over Drusilla’s marks, something
he had never done for his own marks. Buffy let him do as he pleased
without complaining, a little amused by his fussing, but mostly comforted
by it. He was taking such good care of her that the images Drusilla
had placed in her mind were already fading away.

The afternoon passed quickly, friends and family enjoying each other
without thinking of the future. All too soon, however, night came,
and they all made their way to the Magic Box. It was time to talk
apocalypse.

Part 35

The Prophecy (1)


Quietly sitting at the research table next to Willow, Tara was letting her eyes drift over the improbable collection of people that were assembled in the Magic Box. Her family. Here in this strange little
shop, she had learned that she wasn’t a demon as she had believed, she
had severed all links with her blood kin, and she had found a new family. It consisted of a Witch, a girl made of mystic energy, a former vengeance demon, a Watcher, two vampires, including one who was also a vampire Slayer, and…well, Xander. Not your typical American family, but she wouldn’t have wanted another one for anything.

For a little while, her gaze rested on the two new women who were leaning
against the shelves and talking quietly in French. They weren’t Scoobies. Not yet. But if they stayed in Sunnydale, they would be, sooner or later. It was impossible not to become part of the group when you faced death, demons and all sorts of supernatural things on a regular basis.

Next to her, Willow yawned. Tara couldn’t help yawning too, and
they shared an amused glance and a quiet chuckle. They were both
still on Greenwich time and badly jet-lagged, and could have used some
sleep. Tara couldn’t wait for the meeting to start. Though
she wasn’t really in a hurry to hear about what they would be fighting
this time and how. She knew, in her heart and soul, that whatever
it was, they could take it. They always could. That was what
they did. The Scoobies saved people, without anyone ever hearing
about it. It didn’t matter. They knew, and it was enough.

“What are we waiting for?” she asked Willow, sotto voce, as she squeezed
her hand a little.


* * * * *


“For Angel to arrive,” Willow replied quietly.

The vampire had always had a sense for drama, but right now Willow thought
it was pretty annoying. It was almost a struggle for her to remain
awake, and the later the meeting started, the longer it would take for
her to get to her bed. Jet lag was only part of the problem.
Ever since their stay with a coven a couple of weeks before and their meeting
with a seer, Willow had found new powers within herself. She had
had flashes, and also dreams, that she believed showed the future.
That was why she and Tara had come home early. Even before she heard it from Giles, she had known something nasty was brewing on the Hellmouth.

Big surprise, that. Why couldn’t all the bad stuff happen somewhere
else? It wasn’t like Sunnydale had anything really interesting to
offer to the armies of hell…

Willow tried to stifle another yawn, unsuccessfully, and giggled as
Tara imitated her again. She leaned against her girlfriend’s shoulder,
not daring to close her eyes for fear of falling asleep. Buffy, across
the table, didn’t have the same scruples, and had seemingly dozed off. Her head was tucked under Spike’s chin as he straddled the bench, one arm curled almost protectively around her. At seeing them so comfortable with each other, Spike’s thumb drawing small circles where his hand rested on Buffy’s waist, Willow couldn’t believe she had ever doubted they were genuinely in love. Well, she had doubted Buffy’s feelings, but never Spike’s, not since she had seen him weeping over the dead Slayer at the base of Glory’s tower, right after their last averted apocalypse.
Hopefully, this time, no tears would need to be shed, except maybe ones
of relief.


* * * * *


Anya was annoyed. Very, very annoyed. Almost enough to cry
from frustration. They had made her close the shop early, and now
they weren’t even starting the damn meeting. Of course, since Giles
wasn’t the co-owner of the shop anymore, he didn’t care about missed sales. But she cared. Cared enough to be frustrated to the point of tears. Which was weird, really. Being that upset about missing sales? She hadn’t been in years. She just felt all funny. Funny in a non-funny way. She had even cried over burnt pancakes this morning. Maybe this apocalypse stuff was finally getting to her. But then, why would it? She had seen some pretty nasty things in her millennium as a demon, why should the prospect of a new fight bother her so? She had grown soft, that was the only reason she could think of. The demon shell was completely broken now, and all that was left was a human Anya, who was afraid about this new prophecy, who didn’t want her husband or any of her friends to be hurt, who quite honestly just didn’t want to die.

Having finished tallying the day’s sales, she closed the cash register
irritably, letting out a small sigh. That caught the attention of
Xander, who was looking at construction blueprints a little farther down
the counter.

“Something wrong, sweetie?” he asked.

She shook her head. Nothing was wrong. But everything was. She didn’t know how to explain what she didn’t even understand.

“Getting impatient, that’s all,” she grumbled.


* * * * *


“Yeah, me too,” Xander replied with a smile.

The thought was quite disturbing, but he couldn’t wait for Broodboy
to get to the shop. Him. Waiting expectantly for Angel.
Of course, that wasn’t any worse than being friends with the evil undead. The one that didn’t have a soul. But who soon would.

Xander was happy about Buffy becoming human again, very happy.
Angel getting a pulse was OK too, it would just be the final proof that
Angelus wouldn’t show up in Sunnydale, ever again. But Spike…the
bleached blonde, un-chipped, not so evil anymore, utterly in love vampire
he had learned to see as a friend, turning into a regular guy? That
was weird. That was more than weird. That was plain scary. Not that Xander minded him losing his fangs, really, he still had no particular affection for anything fangy. But what made Spike Spike was that he was a vamp. A very uncommon one, true, but a vamp just the same. It would be majorly weird to see him in the sun. Probably just as much as it had been to see a vampire Buffy.

The doorbell chimed, and Xander glanced up, muttering “Finally” under
his breath. He folded away his work plans and followed Anya to the
research table, the central point of Scoobie Central, sitting between her
and Willow.

“Sorry for being late,” Angel mumbled to no one in particular.

The brunette vampire eyed the table and the three couples around it
before settling by the counter, leaning back against it. Xander,
like everybody else, looked at Giles, who cleared his throat as he glanced
at the other Watcher.


* * * * *


“Well, since everybody’s finally here, let’s start,” Giles said calmly,
trying very hard not to glare at the tardy vampire.

Andrea nodded at him, inviting him to go on. Since he was familiar
with the Scoobies, she had agreed that it was best for him to do the talking,
but he fully expected her to be prompt at correcting him or giving summaries,
if needed. Not that he planned to leave anything for her to correct.

He cleared his throat again, and looked at the fighters gathered in
front of him. Xander and Anya, both showing a mix of expectation
and wariness. Willow, Tara and Buffy all looked tired, and from the
Slayer that was surprising. But they were all watching him, waiting.
So were Dawn and Steven, from their perch on the edge of the mezzanine. The boy had an excited gleam in his eyes, while Dawn seemed more cautious. Angel and Spike, for once, shared the same blank expression, totally devoid of emotions, and Giles wondered for an instant what they were thinking. Andrea knew all about the prophecy, and she just seemed impatient to see the meeting on its way. The youngest member of the group was returning his gaze as he looked at her, and she gave him an encouraging smile. In many ways, Manon reminded him of Buffy, and yet she was so different. One common thing between them at least was that they knew they had great
responsibilities, and did not run from them.

“In eleven days, the Hellmouth will open,” he started. “But this
time, we will be confronted not only by our usual hellish demons, but also
by some from another dimension. I believe its name is Quortoth.”


* * * * *


Giles eyes settled on Steven as he said the name, and the teen shivered
unconsciously. It had to be a mistake. He couldn’t mean… Steven glanced at his father, who had the same puzzled look on his face that Steven was sure he had on his. Before he could voice his questions though, Buffy was talking.

“When we came back from LA, you said we had a good five weeks in front
of us. Why the change of timeline?”

Giles threw a quick glance toward the woman Watcher, and replied, a
bit flustered:

“Well, it appears I had wrongly translated a word, and Miss Travers
was kind enough to point out my mistake to me.”

From the smug smile on the woman’s lips, it looked like it had been
more than one word.

“Quortoth?” Angel said quietly, the question clear in his voice.

“Yes, there is no possible mistake on that.”

Giles took off his glasses, rubbing them clean as he continued.

“That’s why I questioned you about this portal you opened to get Steven
back. It appears that it was never sealed completely. The entry
point was only partly closed, and it has been opening randomly for short
periods of time for the last three years.”

“The portal was in the middle of my lobby,” Angel objected. “I
would have noticed…”

“It travels,” Giles interrupted him. “The portal has been moving
around, letting out a few creatures that mostly ended up being drawn to
Sunnydale, to the Hellmouth, where Buffy and Spike have been taking care
of them.”

So… That explained why, a few times, as he patrolled with the two vampires,
Steven had thought he recognized the demons they slaughtered. He
had never mentioned it, thinking they were just coincidences, but now it
made sense. He had thought he was free of Quortoth, but Quortoth
had found him again. Slowly, a twisted grin came to his lips.
He still had a few scores to settle with some demons of the hell dimension,
and soon he would have his chance.


* * * * *


“The next time the portal opens, it will be right over the Hellmouth,”
Giles said grimly. “Not only will it open a door to another dimension,
but it will also open the Hellmouth itself. And both doors will be
permanent. Unless we manage to close them within twelve hours.”

Dawn’s blood was chilling in her veins as she listened to Giles. She didn’t like at all that smile creeping up on Steven’s face. She liked even less this talk of portals and doors to other dimensions. Not one bit. Bad memories. Instinctively, she placed a hand over her stomach. The scar there was very faint, almost nonexistent. But it was the testimony of another portal opening. Or more precisely, of her blood having opened another portal.

“The prophecy tells us how to close both doors,” Giles carried on, then
hesitated.

Dawn had started chanting in her head, repeating over and over again
“Not me please, not me please”. The Watcher’s eyes rose to the mezzanine again, not on Steven this time, but on her.

“Oh crap!”

Her exclamation brought everybody’s attention to Dawn, and she could
see that they all had the same thought as her.

“I’m afraid you guessed at least partly right, Dawn,” Giles said gently.
“Yes, we will need you to close these portals. But this time your blood
didn’t open them, so it won’t be your blood we will use to close them.”

Dawn let out a deep sigh, then frowned and asked: “What then?”

“Your energy. You were made out of energy, we will use it to close
the portals.”

That didn’t sound too dire, Dawn mused. But still she wasn’t too
happy that again she was nothing but a key. Steven’s hand sneaked
onto her lap, grabbing her fingers and bringing them to his mouth for a
kiss. She leaned against him, seeking the comfort of his warmth.

“Who is ‘we’?” Buffy asked suddenly. “And what exactly do you plan to do to my sister? Because I’m not sure I like the sound of it.”

As she said so, she glanced up at Dawn and gave her an affectionate
smile. Instantly, Dawn was reassured, knowing that Buffy wouldn’t
let anything bad happen to her.

“When I say ‘we’, I mean Willow, Tara and myself,” Giles said as he
looked at the Witches then back to Buffy. “We will use magic to reach
through Dawn’s energy and patch up the holes between dimensions.
A bit tricky, but harmless to Dawn.”

“I will be part of that circle too,” Andrea added firmly.

“We talked about that,” Giles replied with a sigh. “You have no
magic training and…”

“I will learn,” the woman insisted. “I can learn. There
is enough time…”

“You Watchers can argue about that all you want later,” Spike interrupted
suddenly. “The portal and the bloody Hellmouth open, the Witches
close it with Nibblet’s help, then why in hell do we have to become humans?”

“Well, if I wasn’t interrupted every two words, maybe I could get to
that part,” Giles replied, annoyed.

Part 36

The Prophecy (2)


We?

“Wait a minute. Who is becoming human exactly?”

Giles glowered at Angel, which the vampire interpreted as scolding for
interrupting just after he had asked them all to let him finish.
However, the Watcher answered his question.

“You, Buffy and Spike. I thought you knew about it?”

“I knew about myself,” Angel replied, frowning a little.

Spike laughed, and Angel couldn’t help glaring at him. He was
still kind of bothered by the way Spike had reacted when he had told him.

“Surprised, soulboy?” he asked with a smirk. “Jealous that you
won’t be so special after all?”

Angel was about to reply and put his Childe - because he was still
his Childe, whatever he said - back in his place, but Buffy cut him
off, while very obviously elbowing her Sire.

“Cordy was in my dreams too,” she explained. “She said all three
of us would turn human so that we can fight during the day.”

Angel nodded, still a bit shocked, but genuinely happy for Buffy.
She was humanity and life incarnated, and for her to be a vampire was just
an abomination. He really wasn’t sure what to think about a human
Spike. And, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, the
annoying blonde had seen right through him about his feelings. Yes,
he was jealous. He had been fighting for the Powers That Be for years
for his reward, and now his Childe, who didn’t even have a soul, was going
to get the same thing.

“It’s great,” he managed to say with a smile.

Buffy smiled back at him, but Spike snorted.

“Well, if that matter is cleared up, perhaps you will let me continue?”

Giles gave a chastising glance around the room, daring anyone else to talk out of turn. When no one said anything, the Watcher carried on:

“The portals will open at noon, so, yes, we will need our resident vampires
to be protected against the sun, and Cordelia or whoever she works for
was kind enough to think of that. Now the prophecy…”

The Watcher sighed as he noticed Dawn’s raised hand and took off his
glasses.

“You have a question Dawn?”

“Actually, I do. Sorry. Not that I mind the fanged club
turning human, but does anyone remember where the Hellmouth is exactly? Under Sunnydale High. And I’d know, ‘cause hey, I was there every day not that long ago, and it sure was hell, but my point is, building,
no sun?”

“As the portal collides with the Hellmouth, there will be an explosion,”
the woman Angel supposed was a Watcher chimed in before Giles could reply. “We expect the school to be destroyed entirely in the process.”

A small smile crept on Dawn’s face, and a word escaped her lips.
“Cool.”

“No, it’s not cool,” Xander protested. “I built that school!
It’s a very fine building!”

He looked around him, finding nothing but blank stares.

“And I will just shut up now,” he finished.

“Good idea,” Giles mumbled, before adding, louder: “As I was saying,
Buffy will become human, and according to the Prophecy, fight whatever
is coming out of the two doors with her sisters.”


* * * * *


If Giles’ eyes had been stakes…, Buffy mused as she raised her hand, just like Dawn had a minute ago. He nodded tiredly at her, and she asked:

“First, newsflash, I just have one sister. Not sisters, plural.
Second, there’s no way Dawnie gets to fight hellish stuff.”

“Hey, if that’s what the Prophecy says, then I will…”

“No, you won’t.”

With one voice, Buffy, Spike and Steven interrupted the teenager, who
started sulking.

“None of us will be able to fight properly if we think you’re going
to be in danger,” Buffy explained, and both men confirmed her words with
a nod.

“She won’t have to fight literally,” Giles explained. “She will,
however, need to be there, as will we, to be able to close the doors.
As for your other sister, it is meant as a metaphor, to designate your
sister in slaying.”

Oh. OK. Slayer sister. Got that. And at least
she can fight.

Buffy glanced at Manon, who hadn’t said a word since the beginning of
the meeting. The girl gave her a shy smile, a little uncertain, to
which Buffy replied sincerely. She truly wouldn’t have minded having
her as a sister.

Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, Giles started talking again.

“That’s only part of the fighters, the Slayer and her sisters. The other part, in the text, was referred as ‘father, son and brother’. We didn’t quite know what to do with that one, but with Cordelia telling Buffy that Angel, Steven and Spike are to fight this battle, it seems it can fit.”

Spike’s body stiffened against Buffy, and she glanced at him just as
he flashed a smirk up at Steven. Angel, he very blatantly ignored.

“So, that’s it,” Giles said with a sigh. “At noon in eleven days,
Sunnydale High will blow up and hell will literally pour out of it.
We have fighters to kill anything that gets out while our magically inclined
crew tries to close the doors before midnight.”

Said like this, it sure didn’t seem that hard. It never did, before
the day of the actual fight. But on the battleground, things had
a nasty way of turning out much differently than they were supposed to.


* * * * *


There was maybe a minute of silence after the Watcher was done talking,
while everyone was absorbing what he had said, when Glinda spoke up, though she was still shy about talking in front of the assembled Scoobies, despite all they had been through together.

“What if a demon manages to get away? I mean, if they all come
out at once, one might escape, and end up running around loose in Sunnydale.”

“We could find a protective spell,” Red proposed excitedly. “Like,
a big bubble around the high school, so nothing can get out. Or in. We don’t need anyone looking over our shoulder while we’re in the newly destroyed school fighting demons.”

That was a good idea, and there were nods of agreement all around for
Willow. And that made Spike wonder why they couldn’t just have a
sun proof bubble and forget the whole human thing. He let out a quiet
sigh, and Buffy looked at him, an eyebrow arched questioningly. He
shook his head and smiled at her. His hesitancy was nothing he wanted her concerned about.

The ‘magically inclined’, as the Watcher had called them, discussed
the bubble thing for a moment, until Xander’s insistent coughing brought
their attention back to him.

“OK, a job for everyone and everyone doing their job, so what do Anya
and I do? No little bit of Prophecy about us?”

Anya was nodding next to him, agreeing that she wanted to participate
too. There was still something odd about her…

“I guess you can help with the slaying,” Giles suggested.

“No they can’t,” Spike interjected suddenly.

There, he had it. He knew what was different with Anya, and he
wanted to slap himself for not understanding sooner. He would have
realized earlier if he had been paying closer attention.

“And why not, evil soon-not-so-undead?”

Xander’s teasing was partly surprised, partly irritated. The boy
wanted to fight, he truly did. He wanted to be useful, even if his
talent at fighting was, well, not pathetic, but not very far from it either.

“You want to tell him, Anya?” Spike said softly. “It’s not my
place to.”

“Say what?” she replied with a frown.

Spike rolled his eyes. Just great. The bint didn’t even know.

“You’re pregnant,” he said bluntly, earning stares from all persons present.

“I am what?”

“She’s what?”

Surprise, panic, and a hint of hope, in both Harrises’ voices.

“Pregnant,” Spike repeated without adding anything.

They looked at each other, still looking incredulous, but it was starting
to sink in at last. Anya placed a hand on her belly, and one of Xander’s covered it.

“How do you know?” Buffy asked him with a frown.

“Just listen, luv. When there’s no noise, you can hear his heartbeat. It’s quiet but it beats very fast, easy to recognize.”

As he finished talking, silence fell on the room, and Spike was sure
they were all trying to hear, though only vampires’ ears would catch it.
He watched the wonder flutter over his Slayer’s face, then she was grinning
madly and he kissed the side of her head, pleased at her evident delight.

“I can hear it too,” she said excitedly. “Congratulation guys!”

There was a general group hug, which Spike didn’t manage to escape despite
his desperate attempts. Everybody quickly agreed with him that the
expectant mother was not to fight under any circumstances, and that Xander
should be kept out of the battle if possible. No one wanted the new member
of the Scooby gang to be orphaned even before he was born.


* * * * *


The soon to be parents agreed to stay out of the battle, but they admitted
feeling a bit guilty at being on the side line while their friends fought.
Manon made a suggestion then. It was the first time she had talked tonight. She was a bit intimidated at being in the middle of all these people, some of whom she was meeting for the first time. Also, her Slayer sense was all jumpy, with the two vampires she had gotten used to plus the new one, which no one had warned her about. How these people could be so used to having vampires among them was still a wonder to her. She didn’t mind them so much, it just felt weird. Of course, from what she understood, they wouldn’t remain vampires for very long.

“We’ll probably need first aid at some point or another,” she said hesitantly,
very conscious suddenly of her accent with so many people listening to
her. “Maybe Xander and Anya can stay outside the bubble thing and
we can go to them if we’re wounded. If we have to fight for twelve
hours, we’ll need to rest and eat or drink sometimes too.”

“That’s a good point, Manon,” Giles said immediately.

She glanced at Buffy, happy to see her smile. She liked the older
Slayer, and she thought the feeling was mutual. She was actually
starting to like the other vampire too, to her own surprise. Still,
she wouldn’t mind at all once they all became humans and stopped playing
with her senses.

There was some more talking, a lot more, details being cleared and plans
drawn. She quickly stopped paying much attention to all of it.
Her own role was clear. Slay every demon in sight. Knowing
that she wouldn’t be alone for that battle, she wasn’t afraid. Not
particularly impatient for the day to come, but not afraid either.
When Andrea had first explained to her about being the Slayer, the job
had sounded awfully solitary. Now that she had met Buffy and her
friends, she realized it would only be lonely if she decided to let it
be. And she certainly wouldn’t.


* * * * *


Andrea’s orders had been clear when she had been sent to Sunnydale with
the new Slayer. Prevent the apocalypse, and limit to the minimum
the contacts with the locals. And yet, there she was, in the middle
of their HQ, where she had spent the last few days helping the ex-Watcher
translate the prophecy, and where Manon had been training with vampires. If her father knew, he would disown her instantly, she had no doubt about it. And she didn’t care in the least. In a few days, she had found out for herself that the information that had been given to her about the so-called Scoobies had been very much tainted to fit the Council’s view of the world. She understood now how they had survived so much, and why Buffy was still around, even if she was a demon. If she could help it, Andrea had every intention to see Manon live even longer that the Summers girl. And if that meant working with rebels and demons, oh well, so be it. Just as long as someone else took care of informing the Head Watcher.



* * * * *


Sitting on the counter, right next to Angel, Cordelia looked at her
army with a satisfied smile. A pity she couldn’t talk to them, really,
she almost felt like a general on the morning of a big battle and could
have given a magnificent speech.

She liked the way they were planning their fight. She had written
the Prophecy, true, but they were the ones deciding on how the actual events
would happen. She winced at the thought. Three times, Skip had made
her rewrite the damn thing, complaining that she couldn’t make the text
too easy. Another one of these stupid rules. What was the point
of warning them with a Prophecy if they couldn’t even understand the warning? If she hadn’t let slip a few things to Buffy, Giles and his Watcher friend would still have been wondering who the other fighters were supposed to be. Of course, if they had just mentioned it to any of the three men, they would have had their answer. Well, maybe not. Spike might have kept his mouth shut. He was a serious pain in her immaterial bottom. And he would be even more before it ended, she just knew it.

Shaking her head, she pulled her eyes away from the bleached blonde
vampire, letting them slide over the happy Harris couple. She couldn’t
help smiling at them. What she had ever seen in Xander, she didn’t
know, but she was glad for him and Anya. Cute couples abounded, now that she thought of it. Xander and Anya, Tara and Willow, Dawn and Steven, Buffy and Spike, even the Watchers, though they weren’t quite there yet. But they would be, in time. She had plans for the Watchers Council. All she needed was a little time.

Which left two people, both alone in the middle of so many others.
One was sixteen, the other two hundred and a lot of change.

Cordelia glanced at Angel, next to her. He looked a bit lonely.
A bit sad, too. She knew he had been affected by the death of Drusilla. She had also seen how he had reacted at the announcement of Buffy and Spike’s return to the living. Happy for her, but not so much for him. Jealous. Still jealous of his Childe, who had taken the love of his unlife, and would now get the reward that Angel felt he had worked so hard for. If she hadn’t been called to another plane of existence, she knew she could have made him forget about the blonde Slayer. As things were, it wasn’t an option. Not now, at least. Probably not ever, if Skip had his way.

Her gaze moved to the young Slayer, and Cordelia pondered her options. It wouldn’t be very hard, really, to push them together. Not hard at all. And it could make them both happy. For a long moment, she considered it. In the end, she did nothing, and just placed her hand over Angel’s shoulder, wishing he could feel her presence, smiling when he glanced, puzzled, at the exact place where her hand rested.

Next