Little Bitty Puzzle Pieces

By PJzallday

Resolve

Spike awoke to that same strange feeling he'd experienced several times since he'd arrived back in Sunnydale. Lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, he didn't suspect any danger which made him wonder if the feeling was some sort of déjà vu. What if he'd relived these days, months or even years, over and over again? Had some of these moments been key to past failures? Would he fail again? Was he doomed for all eternity to bear the guilt of Buffy's death as penance for his crimes?

"Ah you stupid git," he chided as he threw off the blankets and rolled out of bed. "You've just been shut up in this room alone too bloody long." But this was it: this would be his day of redemption.

After a long hot shower and dressing in clean clothes, Spike picked up the box of Fred's gadgets. Holding them helped clarify his memory of that last day. With a glance to the clock on the nightstand, Spike figured they'd be in the desert by now — Buffy, Dawn, the Scoobies, his other self — on their doomed flight from Glory. Maybe they'd even be at the gas station fighting the Knights while Giles bleeds on the counter. Or maybe they'd be "enjoying" their all too short reprieve.

After collecting his few essentials, Spike left the motel room for what he knew would be the last time. At the convenience store, he made one last stop at the bank machine, pulling out the few hundred dollars it would allow. Then he headed to Buffy's house for a final walk down memory lane.

He'd wanted to go days earlier — wanted to go from virtually the moment he'd arrived — but he knew he couldn't risk Buffy or one of the others seeing him. But now it would be safe: the gang would be all day in the desert; Glory and her minions would be too preoccupied with finding the Key and preparing for the ritual to bother with him; and, for the time-being, vampires and other more dangerous demons would be laying low.

***

It was so strange being in that house again; how different it seemed from the last days and nights he'd spent there. There weren't piles of sleeping bags, pillows and dirty laundry all over the living room, nor was there the lingering odour of stale pizza or sweaty teenagers. Climbing the stairs, Spike scanned the photos of Dawn and Buffy when they were younger... happier — in a time before any of the horror of being the Slayer ever entered Buffy's life.

Turning at the top of the stairs into Buffy's room — the room that back then the girls still viewed as their mum's — Spike tried not to think of the only private conversation he'd had with Buffy in that room. Even without remembering the words, he could still feel the pain of it: of actually saying aloud that she'd used him to take out her self-hatred and of hearing her admit it. "Won't happen now," he choked, shaking himself from his melancholic reverie. Buffy wouldn't have to hate herself because she wouldn't have to die and be dragged back from "heaven". He'd never know the feel or the taste of her body — and that, he supposed, would make life easier for his other self.

Going to the armoire, he pulled from his pocket the bundle of cash he'd collected and tucked it into one of the drawers. It wasn't much, he knew, but he hoped that it would help Buffy and Dawn for a while.

Returning to the stairs, he headed straight for the basement — perhaps partly out of habit, but certainly in part of need. Some of his most treasured moments the previous year, had been spent in that basement with Buffy. She first told him she believed in him there; she made him believe he could be a champion there; and they'd just shared time close to each other there. But now, even the basement looked different. Although there were the same cinder block walls, there were no exercise mats or other training equipment; no sign of chains on the wall; "his" cot was folded up and half lost behind boxes of old junk: memories of the Summers women that would be lost when the basement floods. But maybe that wouldn't happen this time either.

***

The sun had set by the time Spike had pulled himself out of Buffy's basement to go outside to the back porch to wait. For him, that house was filled with so many memories — ironic considering scarcely more than six months earlier he had virtually none.

Lost in his own thought, he didn't notice when they arrived: Buffy and Spike's other self. The clank of weapons being pulled from the chest snapped him back to the present and in that instant, it was as if he could see the scene unfold.

"I know that I'm a monster," he would say, "but you treat me like a man..." He'd feel awkward, looking up to see her face, and quickly change the subject. "Get your stuff. I'll be here."

Then she'd disappear up the stairs and he'd hear her rummaging through drawers and closets. It would be quiet for a time.

Spike hadn't realized when he first said it just how true his words to her had been, but back then she had treated him like a man. She'd trusted him with her family, asked for his help, for his opinion, and on that last day, she'd invited him back into her house. His true awareness of the contrast between the treatment of man and monster was yet to come, however, for she would treat him as the latter as well. When she'd first come back, he thought he'd be able to care for her tenderly, but soon he learned that wasn't what she wanted; she wanted pain, so that's what he delivered. The shame of that time brought tears to his eyes. As he gasped back a sob, he realized that she was crying too — overhead through the open bathroom window, he could hear her.

"Stop it," Buffy ordered herself not to cry. The faucet went on and then off; she must have splashed water on her face. Shortly thereafter, she left the bathroom and thumped back down the stairs to where she would reappear, all-business, to his other self. "You ready?" she'd ask.

He'd nod and open the door, chivalrously waiting for her to go before following after her.

With the pair gone, Spike went back inside the house for a final goodbye and equipment check then he headed out into the night. Although he meant to go to the ritual site, he found himself a block from the Magic Box as the group began their last march.

"OK, everybody knows their jobs. Remember: the ritual starts, we all die," Buffy said sternly. "And I'll kill anyone who comes near Dawn."

"Well, not exactly the Saint Crispin's Day speech, was it?" he remarked.

"We few, we happy few..."

"We band of buggered."

Buffy didn't leave with them then; she stayed behind some time after so Spike peeked into the shop window. There was Buffy, talking to herself — but not herself. She was explaining the plan to the Buffybot as the pair changed clothes.

"Get a grip," he grumbled, shamed by his brief drift into the fantasy of being with the two Buffys. "Gross and obscene," he reminded, before he ducked away to hide behind a parked car as the two left the shop — the Bot hurrying to catch up with the others and Buffy following more slowly behind to conserve her energy and maintain her composure.

Being extra cautious not to be seen or caught along the way, it took Spike longer than he'd expected to get to the ritual site.

"Buffy!" he heard Dawn's terrified shriek as he approached the lot where the tower had been erected. "I'm up here!"

Turning his eyes skyward, he arrived in time to see Buffy plunge earthward in a streak of white, like a shooting star against the darkness. "Oh god..." he gasped as a rush of terror and nausea came over him at the thought that Buffy had already died; that he'd arrived too late; that he'd failed her again. Running to the gate, he feared seeing her broken body, but to his great relief she was still alive and back on her feet fighting Glory. With a deep focusing breath and a squeeze of his domino box, he felt reassured that everything was as it should be.

Scanning the yard, Spike couldn't see any of the Scoobies; they must have been trying to figure out their next move. Spike knew what that meant; "There he is," Spike growled when he saw Doc, strolling almost unnoticed by anyone around toward the tower. Soon he'd be atop the platform with Dawn.

Pretending to be one of Glory's poor daft victims working on the site, Spike carefully made his way along the perimeter fence. Then in a whirl, he saw himself rush forward as the mob at the base of the tower was flung out of the way. For the briefest moment he wondered what it must have been like when Buffy first saw the robot; perhaps this was a similar experience. But this was no time for reflection on his... reflection. Dashing toward the tower, he took the first stairs three at a time, trying to keep up with his other self without drawing too much attention. As he approached the top, he had to keep a rein on himself and wait for just the right opportunity. Crouching just below the platform level, Spike listened anxiously.

"I don't smell a soul anywhere on you," Doc remarked, flummoxed. "Why do you even care?"

Spike's other self defiantly declared, "I made a promise to a lady."

"Oh?"

Anticipating the demon's smug final words, Spike was incensed and dug his fist into his pocket for Fred's special red-tabbed micro-tasers. With the safety controls removed, he sucked in one last long breath through his nose as his jaw locked. This was the critical moment-

"Then I'll send the lady your regrets."

When Dawn screamed and his vampire self moaned, Spike knew the girl would be watching as his other self plummeted to the ground. In that instant, with their cries echoing in his ears, he burst onto the platform. As his eyes locked on Doc, Spike didn't see a frail little old man; he didn't see a demon. Spike saw Buffy's broken body; he saw her broken spirit. And for a moment, he saw Jude. Spike was desperate: he could not fail. As he rushed forward, the world seemed to slow. Every night I save you. Slamming into his foe from behind, Spike reached around and jammed the mini-taser into Doc's chest as the two flew off the tower, camouflaged by the cloak of darkness.

Minutes later, wide-eyed with fear and gasping for breath, Dawn cried, "Buffy!" when her sister appeared on the tower platform.

"Oh Dawn...." The Slayer leapt to the girl's side. With a wavering smile, Buffy stroked the side of Dawn's face. "I'm so glad you're alright," she exclaimed with her voice quivering. Balling up her hands in fists several times to still their shaking, Buffy struggled to untie her sister's restraints.

Once she was freed, Dawn grabbed Buffy and held her tightly as she sobbed.

"Shh... It's OK," Buffy cooed. "You're safe now. Shh..." When her sister seemed calmer, the Slayer pulled back to see her face and asked, "But... how? Dawn, what happened?"

"It was Spike," Dawn squeaked, as she let go of her sister. "Oh god..." She clasped a hand over her mouth then anxiously went to peer over the edge of the tower, trying to see the ground below.

"Dawn! Get away from there!" Buffy snatched the girl's arm and pulled her back from the edge and toward the base of the tower structure.

"But Spike!" Dawn stood firm, forcing Buffy to look squarely at her. "Is he OK?"

Buffy went pale. Leaning on one of the large tower girders, Buffy glanced from her sister over the edge and back again. "You mean..." Apprehensively, she swallowed hard and asked, "He went off the tower? From way up here?"

Together the two fearful young women made their way to the bottom clinging to each other, Buffy supporting Dawn as she stumbled in bare-feet over metal grates and rough wooden planks.

"We have to hurry," the teen insisted. "I have to know he's OK. Buffy... this was my fault."

"Don't be ridiculous," her sister scolded as she jumped off at the bottom of the tower. "You couldn't-"

"Spike!" Dawn shrieked.

The Slayer followed her sister's sightline to find Spike lying in a heap of shattered bricks and bones. She grimaced as Dawn flew past her to rush to her friend. When she reached Spike's side, the younger girl dropped to her knees to assess his condition.

"'m fine, Nibblet." Spike struggled to push himself up, clutching at his side and grimacing. "Just keepin' my promise."

More tentatively, Buffy followed crossing her arms awkwardly. As she moved across the yard, Giles appeared looking sullen.

Before either of them could speak, Xander called out with guarded optimism, "Buffy... Is it over?" from where he'd been crouched with Anya, who clung desperately to his arm.

"Ben's dead," Giles stated quietly.

Shocked, Buffy tried to explain, "But I didn't-"

Giles didn't give her the chance. "Glory won't be a threat again."

Buffy, who understood what the man was telling her, nodded weakly before turning in Xander's direction. "Yeah, I think it's over." Looking back at Giles, oddly relieved, she smiled and rested a hand on his arm to be sure she had his attention. "Thanks Giles. You did what I couldn't," she said. Then, shaking her head with a huff, she added, "I threatened to kill my friends if they came near Dawn, but I couldn't kill the guy who shared Glory's body."

"Um... Buffy?"

Turning, Buffy saw Willow approach with Tara. "Tara?" The Slayer glanced to Willow. "She's-" Then she looked back at Tara. "You're OK?"

"Yeah... yes, um... Willow... brought me back," the timid witch stammered with a shy smile. "I just... What should I do with this?" she asked, cradling the Buffybot's head in her hands.

"Just remind me to find Warren and kick his ass," Buffy grumbled.

"So you did it," Willow declared. "You stopped Glory and the ritual?"

"I guess we did," the Slayer acknowledged.

Wrapping her arm around his back for support as she tried to push him up for his due thanks, Dawn insisted, "Spike did."

"I didn't-" he choked while wiping at the blood dribbling down his face.

"He must have grabbed that old guy," Dawn supposed, pointing to the unconscious demon a couple of dozen feet away, "when he went off the tower. Buffy, he was going to cut me up to start the ritual, but Spike stopped him!"

Standing over Spike, Buffy asked reservedly, "Can you walk?"

"Yeah." He nodded reassuringly. "Not a probl-ugh-m," he groaned.

Buffy winced and lunged to support him.

Spike leaned away from her, pausing a moment, staring into her face as if he were baffled by the gesture.

She smiled at him then, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away. "Let me give you a hand," Buffy offered. "Hey Xander, could you...?" At her request, her friend took the vampire's other side. "We should get him inside; sun's coming up."

***

Some time after dark, exhilarated by their experiences in Pylea, Angel and his friends bounded into the courtyard of the Hyperion as their chatter echoed all around them. Angel had overcome the darkness into which he'd been sinking over the past year; they'd saved both Cordelia and the young physicist she'd seen in her vision; and together with Lorne, Gunn and Wesley, they'd freed an entire race from slavery — not bad for a few days work.

"Are-are you sure about that?" asked Fred timidly.

"Trust me: tacos, everywhere," Cordelia assured, with a comforting hand on the nervous little newcomer's arm, "and soap!"

"Yo, that portal jumping is a fun ride." Raising a finger to emphasize the importance of his idea, Gunn suggested enthusiastically, "We sell it to a theme park, we could get paid!"

"Okay. Can I say it? I wanna say it." In a display of uncharacteristic excitement, Angel sprang up the stairs to stand on the landing outside the Hotel.

"Say what?" asked an amused Wesley.

Throwing open the Hyperion doors, Angel declared, "There's no place like home!"

The others followed in behind him, laughing and groaning at him.

"So what now?" asked Cordelia just before the telephone rang.

"You made that happen, you know," Gunn moaned to Cordelia.

"I'll get it." Angel practically danced across the lobby to grab the phone. "Angel Investigations. We help-"

"Angel? It's Buffy."

The smile on the vampire's face was quickly replaced by a look of concern. "Buffy, what is it? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, ah... I just wanted to call," she replied, "to let you know... um... there's nothing to worry about anymore. Dawn and I are going to be OK."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that. I'm sorry I-"

"Um... I can't talk; I've got to run," Buffy blurted. "I just thought you'd want to know. Bye."

***

Buffy wandered into the training room behind the Magic Box to where Spike was laid out in a corner on a mat. Crouching down beside him with a mug of warmed blood, she asked, "How are you doing?"

He sighed. "Bit better I s'ppose. Thanks," he said, taking the mug.

"That's nothing." She shrugged. "But Spike," Buffy stressed as she rested her hand on his and squeezed it gently, "What you did today... You saved the world. Thank you."

***

As he leapt toward Doc, in a flash, Spike wondered what would become of his other self and those for whom he cared, but when he and the old demon flew clear of the platform, he knew all he needed to know. In that moment, Spike understood what Buffy once told him:

I was happy.

Wherever I... was, I was happy... at peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was alright. I knew it. Time... didn't mean anything. Nothing had form... but I was still me, you know? And I was warm. And I was loved. And I was finished. Complete.

He was.

~Fin~