Snapshots of Eternity
by Slinkyspychokit


Author's Note: Are you confused yet? A really quick recap. Spike woke up in a body bag in the morgue only to realize that he'd been dreaming all along. None of it had actually happened. It is, in fact seven years following the fight between Angel and Co. and the Senior Partners. Hell doth reign; the armies of hell free to roam and feast.

Coming to Spike's aid, surprising the vampire, is a team led by Willow Rosenberg. More surprises lie ahead for the vampire when he is again reunited with the Slayer after the years he has spent 'being a hero'.


Chapter 16: Wonton Follies of Men
Beta'd by Oracleholly

Seemingly overnight things had gone bad, apocalyptically bad, and it didn't look like things were ever going to get better. Los Angeles, California- once that bright, shining La-La-Land of seventy millimeter hopes and dreams and silver screens- became a no man's land. Hell had opened up in a dank, rainy alley and vomited forth hordes of nightmares the likes of which not even Stephen King could ever have imagined.

In the beginning, the monsters had been confined within the city, under the protective canopy of perpetual night- courtesy of the very oldest and darkest of magic. There, great beasts rampaged the city, preying upon the flesh and souls of the hapless human inhabitants. If any humans made it out of the city alive, they usually didn't make it far.

Once night fell upon the surrounding towns- then states- the monsters were free to roam and ravage wherever their bloodlust led them. Creatures with unimaginable thirsts for horror and bloodshed savaged the lands at will, laying waste to anything and everything that crossed their paths. Evil spread like a disease upon the lush garden of the world.

The time of man, the world of man, had ended in screams and great rivers and blood. The government had sent its troops of trained men and women only to watch, helplessly, as the bodies piled up. The United States government had then sent in the Initiative- the secret, does-not-exist-because-the-creatures-they-were-created-to-fight-don't-exist army of doctors, scientists and infantry personnel. It had made little difference. The monsters still came. Humans were still dying by the town or were driven into hiding, forced to accept the charity and aide of those peaceful, co-existent groups of nonhumans that had lived in the world long enough to recognize Armageddon when they saw it.

At last, someone had gotten smart. The newly appointed head of the Initiative met with the director of the newly rebuilt Council of Watchers. The President of the United States of America, the leader of the free world was, for the first time, utterly speechless as he took in the sight of Slayer.

Throughout the meeting, the President had found his mind stuck on the odd mix of individuals before him. Of the group, the only one, aside from himself that appeared to be over the age of thirty was a middle-aged man dressed in a charcoal gray suit well tailored to fit a physique toned from years of combat.

However, it had only taken a few moments for the President to realize that the ones in charge of the motley group was were, in actuality, the petite blonde in a vivid blue pantsuit and the curvy brunette wearing black leather pants with a scarlet blouse and black leather coat that rattled lightly when she moved. Despite the obvious presence of weapons the young woman had concealed on her person, no one in the room seemed the slightest bit concerned.

'This is group which saved the world time and time again?' the president wondered idly before forcing himself to pay attention.

In two days' time, a deal was struck between the U.S. government and the Council of Watchers. The fate of the world would now rest in the hands of this united force. So help them all.

******

"Ma'am?"

Dawn turned her head sharply to peer at the young man- Damon?- standing beside her with a clipboard extended in her direction. She was slightly embarrassed to have been caught speaking to herself. The fact that she couldn't recall the soldier's name, or even his rank, did absolutely nothing to alleviate her discomfiture.

When all else failed, she focused on the business at hand. "Extraction was a success?" she queried as she scrawled her signature on the file Unnamed Guy had handed her after briefly scanning the information.

"Yes, ma'am. The packaged was intact. Two survivors have also been retrieved and transported from sector X1J12. They are being contained and quarantined for analysis. The Coven has requested your presence in Bay Area Three."

"Thank you, Private Davitt," Dawn replied, having seen his name on the file. Private Nathaniel O. Davitt offered her a smile and a brief salute before hurrying away to attend to other duties, leaving Dawn to make her way to Bay Area Three on her own.

**********

Buffy quickly stepped from the shower and dried herself off, dressing in black and gray military issue fatigues and twisting her hair into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes, a testament to the years she'd spent on the earth and her nightly battles to protect man from those very creatures, which now roamed the land.

Applying a light coat of foundation to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes and a quick coat of lip gloss, Buffy shoved her tiny feet into a pair of well-worn Doc Martens and headed out. Fury had replaced the mild irritation she'd felt upon being awoken from her too brief respite. The vampire awaiting her in her office would be lucky if she didn't just dust him on sight.

During the brisk walk to her office, Buffy noted that more than one young soldier gave her a wide birth as they passed. None would meet her gaze as they passed, though one or two had not been quick enough to hide the brief flashes of fear that crossed their usually stoic features. That was fine by her. Buffy had spent the last seven years building and maintaining her reputation as a ball-busting bitch. She had begun that reputation at the tender age of fifteen when she only needed to intimidate the creatures who now overran the earth. Doing so in this place had not been all that much of a switch. The only difference was that now grown men and women who'd been trained to kill under the blanket of the American flag replaced vampires and demons of every flavor.

They were fighting a war. They were trying to force back the armies of every hell dimension that existed. Kindness would not get the job done. Machiavelli had it right when he stated that it was better for a leader to be feared than loved.

Buffy had tried kindness in the beginning. She really did, but the soldiers all looked at her and treated her like some little girl that needed protecting. They just couldn't respect those they perceived as weaker than themselves, as she had learned the hard way. The hard way had been the death of her former Watcher and surrogate father, Rupert Giles.

The day after Giles' memorial service, Buffy had sent her Slayers to round up all military personnel and bring them to mess hall where the tables and chairs had been pushed against the wall. From that day on, everything changed. She had ordered the small team of soldiers, who had been under Giles' command, to be bound and hung by their wrists from the ceiling. Once the base's occupants had crowded into the hall, she'd taken a page out of Angelus' book of leadership and had those soldiers publicly whipped. She made an example of the ones who had failed Giles and gotten him killed, as well as proved a point to the rest of the military - Buffy Summers was to be feared and followed without question.

The demons they battled had driven civilization back to the laws of the jungle. The laws were pretty simple. Kill or be killed. The name of the game was Survival. If she couldn't rule with kindness, fear would do. People respected fear. Those that didn't respect fear got very dead, very fast.

Buffy sighed internally at the direction her thoughts had taken. She hadn't always been this way. There had been a time when she had been a much softer individual. She had once been a young woman that believed in the world.

That had been in the beginning. Since then, death had come calling at her doorstep a couple of times. She'd even been to Heaven before being snatched back into this dimension. She'd come back from her second death much more jaded and detached than she could have ever imagined.

Then she had discovered what real love was in the arms of the most unlikely of individuals. Only, in the blink of an eye, she'd had it all ripped away from her.

There are things you do because you have to. But, sometimes, there's just no coming back from it.

You can kill a hundred, a thousand, a thousand thousand and the armies of hell, besides. All it takes is one- just one- to slip in and have itself a real good day.

Buffy had sent her first love, her supposed soul mate to hell with a kiss and a sword. Yet, despite the teen angst-o-rama that had plagued her in the aftermath of Angelus' run of Sunnydale, killing Angel had not ripped her soul apart. That honor was reserved solely for watching her true soul mate sacrifice himself to and for the world they had both loved.

*** Flashback***

May, 2003

When it was all over, Buffy gazed out over the enormous crater, which, only yesterday, had been her home. Sunnydale. Hellmouth. Oh little town of murder, mayhem and destruction. Behind her, she sensed the approach of her Watcher as he moved to stand at her side. "I don't understand," he admitted in his flowing British accent. She could almost hear him polishing his glasses and would have smirked if not for the storm of emotions within her warrior's heart. "What did this?"

"Spike," she answered distractedly as she took several steps away from a man who'd been a surrogate father to her for so many years. Grief won out for the moment; her heart feeling as though it would become dust. Spike saved us all. Saved the world. Not bad for a formerly evil, Big Bad who'd fallen for his mortal enemy. You did so good, baby...

"Oh, God...Spike!" The emotions burst forth from her in that moment, ripping her apart and leaving her lost, cold and afraid. Arms fell around her and she flinched away, snarling viciously at an equally grief stricken friend. Xander shot back from her as though she'd sprouted fangs and lunged at his throat. Faith just glared at the one-eyed jack-of-all-trades before taking Buffy's violently, sobbing and shaking body into her arms and holding her in a way which concealed the blonde's view of everything but a denim clad shoulder.

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

Seeing his former soul mate in so much agony shook Angel to the core of his being. He hadn't believed it before, hadn't wanted to believe that she could actually care for the peroxided pest. Now, with Spike gone, he saw that Buffy was left hanging by a very thin line. She kept to the room she shared with her sister, not even venturing out for meals or interacting with her soldiers or friends. According to Giles, who appeared to have aged ten years in those final months, Buffy only spoke to Dawn and Faith. Everyone else was considered persona non grata. And everyone else included Angel at the head of that list.

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

Buffy opened the door to her suite and found the highly fidgety Andrew shifting nervously on his feet. "What?" she all but snapped at him for intruding upon her grief. He flinched and swallowed.

"I...um..," he held out a VHS tape and her eyes focused on it instead of the pity in the towheaded hanger-on. He swallowed again and continued in the same stuttering speech. "Um…he, uh...It's from-"

"Spit it out, Andrew," Buffy's furious growl had him rapidly spouting his news and thrusting the tape into her hand before running away.

"Oh," she murmured, dazedly, as she went to the room's TV/VCR combo and turned it on.

For a moment, nothing happened and Buffy let out the breath she'd been holding. But, then an image sprang to life and she found herself on her knees with her face practically scrunched up against the screen.

Spike. Alive Spike sitting on 'their' cot with his elbows braced on his knees. He smiled that special smile he only ever allowed her to see. That was her smile and she was suddenly jealous of whoever had made the tape because they got to see her smile and she never would again. His lips parted then, smile never leaving his face. "Hello, Gorgeous," that deep, rumbling voice greeted her with remembered lust. Her heart lurched as she placed her hand against the cold glass of the screen, too afraid to look away and too enthralled to try.

"Hey," she whispered back to Spike's image. Onscreen, Spike took a breath.

"Guess if you're seeing this, well...." he flinched slightly and heaved an impatient sigh. "God, this is hard. I should probably say something profound here. Truth is all I can think is how much I love you, princess. Have since I first laid eyes on you." His smile slipped a little and he looked away, jaw clenching as he forced back his emotions before returning his gaze to the camera. "It's alright, kitten. Don't mind the dyin'. I'll be goin down fighting at your side. 'S how it should be. And...knowing that, for a time, you really did see me....I can die a happy bloke."

His jaw clenched again as he looked down at his feet, and Buffy's fingers itched to lift that chin so she could see those eyes she wanted to drown in just once more. Tears cascaded over her pale cheeks when she saw the sadness behind the smile as he looked back up. "Uh, tell Harris thanks for the closet. Remind Red that it was the lilac that looked most fetching on her. Don't tell Angel, but, he was the only father I ever knew, and my regret is that I never found out what that meant."

Tears welled in his eyes and his chin dimpled beneath the weight of holding himself back. "Don't forget to hold the Nibblet every once in awhile when she doesn't expect it."

He was silent a moment; body going statue still in the way the older master vampires could. His eyes focused on something only he could see as the next words came from his heart by way of his lips. "Ah, Love... my Precious, Buffy…. Even with the looming battle, all I can think of is making sure you make it out of there. Figured I owe you an apology for never givin' you that proper wedding. Kinda made up for it with the endless shagging though, yeah? Best night of my life, princess."

Buffy saw Spike's eyes flicker upwards as the faint sounds of footsteps pounded across the kitchen and the creak of the basement floor could be heard off camera. That cerulean gaze returned to her. "Goodbye, my love. I'll hold you for eternity."

He was still smiling when the tape was turned off. Vaguely, she registered the strong arms that folded her into the empathy demon's comforting embrace. Lorne. She thought she'd remembered Faith say that was the demon's name. His red eyes were wet with tears as he ran his hands soothingly over her hair and back. The sound of his voice crooning some sweet little lullaby dragged heartbreaking sobs from her as she allowed him to guide her onto his lap and hold her as though she were once more a little girl.

"Just let it out, Sunshine," he whispered while he rocked her. "I've got you."

***End Flashback***

Buffy stepped into her office, face devoid of emotion, as she took in the regal presence of Count Vladimir Dracula in all his silken glory. His eyes raked over her from head to foot, a lascivious smirk curving his wide, sensual mouth. She felt like rolling her eyes at the blatant flirting he somehow managed without uttering a single word.

She sighed as she took the seat behind her heavy desk. "Nice to know you can follow the simple orders," she told him in a tone that could have melted ice. The count nodded once and seemingly flowed into one of the leather chairs situated across from her.

"Elizabeth," he greeted in his softly accented voice. Privately, Buffy felt a tingle race across her skin at the rich sound. If nothing else, Dracula could seduce legions with just that voice. Hell, he had seduced legions with that voice. It was a good voice that brought to mind immediate thoughts candlelight and things two creatures could do alone in the dark. Wonton…uninhibited…erotic…

Buffy caught the direction of her thoughts and all but growled as she fought against the thrall.

It was going to be a long day.

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

Dawn hurried through the wide corridors of the facility she had loosely dubbed "Slayerville, USA". It was a magically concealed, hollowed out mountain created by the military in case there was ever some unforeseen world-ending scenario. The government really had no clue how spot-on it had been to the truth of that foresight. Well, not until that day in 2004. Watching the world go to hell was almost worth the immature pettiness of several 'I told you so's.' Almost.

She reached her destination to find several members of the Coven quietly conversing with Willow. Two coffins lay side by side in the center of the room. One coffin, a tasteful, dark wood casket with gleaming, silver bars running along the sides, had been used on quite a few occasions. Anytime a demon was retrieved, hostile or no, the non-human was put into stasis and transported under the pretence of a deceased friend, relative or co-worker en route for proper burial.

The second transport was a sarcophagus of seeming primitive origin; its design forged from stone. Smooth, sparkling jewels winked as they caught and reflected the fluorescent lighting overhead. Dawn felt herself drawn to that sepulcher, the sparkling gems pulling her in and holding her enthralled. Her fingers ached to touch the rough-hewn, stone crypt, to caress the contours of the tomb's bejeweled surface. Every part of Dawn wanted to lie upon the vault and absorb it into her pores.

A sudden movement caught Dawn's attention, making her jump, and she whipped her head around to see Connor seated happily upon the simpler casket. He grinned wickedly and knocked on the rounded lid beneath him. "Time to wake the old man up," he told her. "Bastard owes me a shirt."

Amusement danced in the young man's eyes, bringing an adoring smile to her own lips. "Didn't go gently, huh?"

Connor hopped up and pulled Dawn to him and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. "He was fine until we got to Phoenix to change flights. Some dumb ass in customs screwed up and left the box out on the tarmac. By the time we got to him, it was already sunrise. He wasn't happy."

"I can imagine." Dawn smiled knowingly as she wiped a smudge of dirt off her lover's cheek. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you."

"Hate to break up the happy reunion, but we need to get these guys up and at 'em," Xander interrupted the couple as the group joined the brunettes. He clapped his hands together, rubbing them slowly and doing his best impression of a mad scientist's sycophantic assistant. "Vich do ve vant first, Meeeeesterrrr?"

"Let's do Spike first," Dawn decided. "Buffy's eager for-"

"Yeah, we all know what the Buffster's eager for," Xander waggled his eyebrows.

"His report, gutter brain," Dawn told him, nonplussed with the direction of her former crush's thoughts. Pushing down her annoyance, she turned her attention to the flame-haired witch. "Willow?"

Nodding to her fellow Coven members, Willow came forward and waved a hand over Spike's casket. "Release," she intoned in a firm tone. A clicking sound emanated from within the fiberglass and steel prison, signaling the release of the specially designed interior locking mechanism. Xander and Connor each took an end of the lid and lifted it free. Spike lay completely still on the satin-lined bed, his eyes closed, face serene.

"He looks so peaceful," Xander murmured to no one in particular. "Do we really have to-?"

"Awaken!" Willow's voice was louder than before.

"Shhh," Xander hushed. "You're gonna wake the dead."

"Undead," a deep, British voice corrected. Spike groaned softly as he sat up and rubbed at the back of his stiff neck. His eyes groggily scanned the faces surrounding him before they settled on Connor.

Then all hell broke loose.

___________________________

A/N: Just to clear things up. It's been seven years since Angel and Co. took on the Senior Partners and, well, not so much lost as they just couldn't stop the apocalypse. There was no sudden arrival of the Slayers. No witches on hand to mojo ancient power. No super powerful thingamabob. The armies came, mamed and massacred. The odds were against the white hats. The bad guys had it on sheer numbers.

Thank you for reading.

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