Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Without any subliminal indication, conversation was entirely essential at this point. The ground crackled under their feet as they walked, the gaps around them spanning into holes of deep silence. Even the nightly creatures that usually chirped their mournful song were not heard. As if life itself had dwindled to a slow-paced tedium of predictability. Silence was not appreciated nor, by any means, guiltless. It struck a powerful nerve and resonated out a melody of warning.

"Where is this place?" Angel asked, voice bland against the strain of nothingness it competed with.

"Nibblet an' I took one of many tunnels. We came out somewhere in..." The cemetery was dark, but not one had difficulty seeing his gesture. "There."

"Somewhere?" his grand-sire replied irritably. "You told us-"

"...that I could get you there, right," William retorted. "An' I 'ave. We're there aren't we? We jus' gotta find which 'there' to get to."

Buffy nodded, a small smirk on her face. "Yeah. You just love skipping around those technicalities, don't you?"

"'Ey, luv. Don' you start-"

"You know where it is. I believe you." With a sigh, she turned to Angel. "There's every possibility that tonight may be...well, the fourth and hopefully final 'it' for me. Reservations? Hell yeah. Regrets...no regrets. I know. It's my sacred calling and I have to do what I have to do. But excuse me if I'm not altogether eager to reach my death."

A small sound of protest escaped his throat and was quickly overpowered as he nodded in infinite understanding. "And you need time."

The Slayer chuckled humorlessly. "I need about a year and a half, but ten minutes'll do."

While he was not in support of leaving her, even if it was briefly, William nodded and took purchase beside Angel. He was stopped before he could calculate what had occurred, Buffy's hand curled tightly around his forearm.

"No, you stay. I...there are some things..." She looked to her former thoughtfully, and both were amazed when the grand-sire nodded again in comprehension, took a breath, and left.

Then it was just the two of them. Alone on the cemetery - such a familiar setting. William looked at her for long seconds, but she did not say anything. He wondered if his presence was simply for comfort. These past days had opened his eyes to wonders of silence, and how it, above all things, could cure the most substantial abrasions. But then, the graveyard had more than enough to offer. No, she wanted something. Something more than reassurance or company.

"Will..." she said softly, perturbing the stillness with her angelic voice. Even in darkest of times, the tenor of her mood reflected the night with skillful harmony. "You know I wasn't lying."

"'Bout what, luv?"

"Tonight...might be..."

"No. It won'." Tentatively, William took her hands in his and placed feather light kisses over her skin. "Not 's long 's I'm standin', pet. I came 'alfway across the world for you, an' I aim to keep you around."

A small, somber grin tickled her face. "Not just for the frequent flyer miles?"

The peroxide vampire smirked in turn, gently drawing loose strands of hair from her eyes. "'ll admit, that was a perk."

"Sp...Will..."

He rumbled against her in mirth, a note of resigning acceptance coursing through his long dead veins. "'S all right, pet. I give. It was stupid to ask you...don' think I'm used to it by now? After all, I was Spike a lot longer than I was William. Can't hardly teach anyone new tricks these days."

"We have something serious to talk about."

"Now? During your ten minutes of free-time?"

"We needed privacy for this." Buffy heaved a breath of composure, pulling away from his reach and neared a tombstone that towered her in height, resting against it solemnly. "Angel...he...he says he understands, right? And he...he comes really close to getting it. Scarily close. But he never will. We're not the same. We used to be, but we're not anymore. You know that, don't you?"

William blinked his surprise, taken aback more than he would have admitted. Surges of scorned pride and residual hurt flooded his insides without suggestion. It was the sort of understanding that had to be pointed out rather than realized. Her insight was astonishing at times, and he had never fully credited the potency behind her power. Somewhere, his subconscious fixed Angel alongside the girl that would always be the love of his life. The king of the pedestal on which she judged the men she welcomed into her bed. And it had always been that way, because she had always said so. Not now, of course, but plenty back then. In the Before-Time. When he was nothing but a monster.

His silence was all the answer she required. Pursing her lips in poignant reflection, Buffy nodded and crossed her arms, eyes flittering shut in a moment of self-shame. "No, you probably wouldn't know that. After all I've told you, you still don't believe what I say? That I-"

The words were coming again and he could not stop them. That didn't mean he would not try. "Don't."

Buffy blinked in frustrated astonishment, and even without central provocation, it pushed her over the edge. "Don't. Don't? What? Did you go deaf the first thousand times I told you? Or have you mystically forgotten that I'm sorry, and that, for reasons beyond me, I love you. You big fucking dope, I love you. I love you so much that it got me killed. So much that I was looking the other way while the Master decided to play with my lifespan. Decided to kidnap my little sister. This isn't fun for me, Spike. You have no idea how much I want not to love you. But if I'm going to meet my death...AGAIN...you have to know. I have to know."

He could not look at her. Could barely speak, so many words leaping into his throat and getting the better of him. "Know what?"

"Everything! What is there anymore? Huh? After this, I'm done. It's over." The finality in her tone persuaded his eyes upward. "And it'll be hard as hell. I can't...be here...and not help. Not when there's a goddamn apocalypse every five minutes. Once...when this is over, I'm gone. I decided...well, I've been thinking about it ever since we talked that first night." He made a move to speak but she held up her hand in quest for silence. "And I decided tonight, I guess. After what happened back at the house. I just realized that this is it. This is Hell. It doesn't matter if the Master opens the Gate, because I'm already here. Not like before...when they tore me out of...it's so much worse. To know I can't touch that ever again. That it's...not there waiting for me..."

"It is, luv," William said softly.

"Do you really believe that? Impurity gets rewarded?"

At that, he sneered. "Bollocks. You're not impure. 'S the thing that killed you, livin' in you tha's all impure-like. What counts, darlin'..." He took a step forward and placed a hand over her nonbeating heart. "Tha's 'ere. An' tha's all you need. Oh, Sweet...the world'll end sooner or later. You can't always stop it. One day, it'll jus' up an' not be 'ere anymore. Then you'll get your rest."

"Even if that happens to be tonight?"

"It won' be."

"But what if it is?"

William rolled his eyes and tore away. "Don' you think I've thought 'bout that? Tha's why I'm 'ere, pet. For you. All for you. It always is. I can't bloody stand the thought of you...I've lost you too many times, Buffy. Not again. Not tonight. We're show that rotten sod, an' things'll be right again."

She bit back a snicker. "Things will be right? Wow! Good God, Spike, when have things ever been right? You can't honestly believe that. So the Master goes down. Bye bye Geryon. Then what? I'll tell you..." The Slayer stepped forward and roughly seized him by the jaw, forcing his gaze to meet hers. "The next one...the one after me has been called. Twice now, actually. They get it. I'm officially handing it over. I tried with Kendra, I tried with Faith...I'll succeed with these next two. Then I'm taking Dawn and we're leaving. Leaving Sunnydale. Leaving California. Hell, maybe even the good ole USA. And I won't come back. I'll go stay with Giles, or...something. But-"

"Giles?" The peroxide vampire retorted, arching his scarred eyebrow. "Ripper? Luv, you gotta-"

"There's nothing, Spike. Nothing to keep me here. Xander and Willow, sure. I love them more than I can...but you..." Tears began cascading down her cheeks, resolute and final. With expressive tenderness, she released the hold on his chin and arched her touch to caress his cheek. William involuntarily closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, purring softly. "Assuming this...assuming we beat this thing...I have an eternity to spend on this goddamn planet, and I want it to be with you."

His inward declaration collapsed along with the last threads of stamina. With ceremony, he released a throaty growl and sank to his knees, wrapping his arms around her middle and drawing her as close to him as possible. She was right, after all. There was nothing left. Nothing left for her here, nothing to tie her down except her sister. Nothing that would enable her to live the only way she could anymore. Damn Giles for making sense. Damn Buffy for listening. Damn himself for waiting so long to hold that love as it was meant to be held; cautiously, amorously, stroked and coddled until it blossomed into a garden of wealth and meaningfulness.

Reality tore him back from the heavenly fields of perfection. Angel's voice, stern and fearful, echoed resoundingly in his ears, and he knew it could never be. A cry scratched at his throat and he pushed her away, stumbling to his feet as he angrily wiped his face for the instinctual fear of tears. The hurt that overwhelmed her eyes nearly killed him, but he had to be strong. Had to continue for her sake, and for his. He loved her, but he had not said it. He could not. Even if she knew it. Even if the world knew it, he could not say it.

He could not give her that hope. It was too cruel.

Anger replaced the grief that pumped his dead veins. Nonspecific anger, directed to no one and everyone at once. Anger that demanded compensation for many wrongs. Anger that had provided him a thousand reasons to commit the terrible deeds of his past. Anger for the world - anger at himself. Damn fate and its pitiless irony. Damn it all for smacking him down the moment the shadow of plausible joy had peeked into his otherwise gloomy existence. She could not see. She would never see as long as he was there. Unable to stop himself, he jumped to his feet, roaring and bursting into game face, advancing to her with lightening speed until she was pinned against the gravestone.

"Is this what you want, Buffy?" William snarled, yellow eyes flashing. "Is this it? The monster? The dark? The big, evil bad? Right 'ere, baby, whaddya say? Right now? With the stone against your back an' Peaches wanderin' uselessly through the graveyard? Right when the world's gonna end by some portal-happy wanker? God knows I'd love to. Love to jus' forget it all. To give in. To lose myself in you. To let myself be loved by you." He slammed disdainful fists against the stone. "But I can't. I won' ever. Understand that? Not when I see what it does to you. What you do to yourself. Look at you. We're out 'ere to save the bloody world, an' you use your ten minutes to-"

The hurt in her gaze had vanished, replaced with stony determination. In the next instant, her own demon emerged with a terrific growl, and the fire behind his storm died. It was so easy to forget...so easy...

"Look at me?" the Slayer repeated incredulously. "Look at me?! Yes, Will, why don't you look at me? Here I am. Vampire Buffy. Killer of the bad. Lover of the bad. Don't you see it doesn't matter anymore? What I want or what you think I want. And yeah - I screwed up. I'm still screwing up, and I'll continue screwing up until you give me the answer you're just dying to give. I've looked the other way every minute since you came back into my life because it was important to me. More so than the sake of the world, of all humanity. You are important to me. And I can't do this without knowing that in the end, there's something to fight for." The tears were back again, and he could not stand that. With desperation, William attempted to look away but she again grabbed his chin and forced him to her eyes. "I need a reason to live out this stupid sentence. I can't pull off forever by myself."

Then she kissed him - hot, fiery, and completely unexpected. Her fangs clashed with his, tearing at his tongue, tasting his ardor without reaching its poetic root. When he moaned, he knew he was lost. There was nothing left. With desperation, he pressed into her, returning everything she gave with a thousand times the strength. It was gone, all of it. Anything he had tried to reserve, any reason for staying away. The coldness of her skin affected him in a way he never thought possible, and the implications only prompted him onward. He tasted the coppery tang of his own blood as she gashed a cut in his lip, and didn't care. His hands were lost in her hair, his mouth insistent in its attentions as the heat radiating from two cold bodies brought his southern parts to sudden awareness.

Buffy broke away with a gasp when she felt his arousal brushing the sensitivity between her legs, and the gasp melted into a whimper as she pushed herself into him. Slowly, she slid from game face, hands clasping around his neck as his mouth found her throat, teasing skin with the pointed ends of her incisors. He cupped a breast and played with it gently - too gently - and she emitted another groan before she reached for him, stroking the notable bulge desperate to burst through persistent denim.

William gasped and drew away, the blood on his lips tasting of both his and her essence. "Stop," he pleaded, not at all convincingly. His hand was still occupied with a mound of clothed flesh that he couldn't stop stroking. It was painful recognition of useless ebbing that finally persuaded him to pull away. After all, if he couldn't stop, why should she?

It was impossible to fight for words when there was no conceivable reason to fight for air. "Why?"

And at that moment, her inquiry struck his attention as a rather noteworthy objection. Yes, why? He couldn't think of any grand reason. Not then. Right at that time, there was not a care in the world. Not when she was grounding herself against him. Not after waiting this long. Not after what she had lost, what he had inadvertently gained, and what they had to face before the night was over.

So William shrugged and lowered his mouth to hers, pressing against her in renewed spirit, no longer willing to fight. His hand went back to her breast, clutching possessively, pulling at her nipple through her shirt. Their hips rocked together in a frenzied dry-hump, and before he knew what was happening, she had reached between them and fumbled his zipper open. No time for extensive foreplay. Whatever they did had to be now. He returned the favor with zealous insistence, spreading her as she allowed him to slip between her legs. With the tip of him brushing against familiar wetness, it was then that the reason returned. The one reason. Angel's voice and instruction. The curse. The curse. The horrible, awful, bloody curse!

With a frantic cry, he pulled away, and his body suffered the physical repercussions. A pain stretched every sexual nerve with throbbing perseverance, but he denied himself gratification.

Buffy was breathing harshly and tears were falling down her cheeks once more.

"Oh luv," William gasped. "'m sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't. We can't. It's..."

"What? WHAT WHAT WHAT?!"

"The curse, Sweetness," he replied somberly. "No chances. I dunno what did it for Peaches besides the obvious, but I can't risk it. Not if..." He couldn't talk. Couldn't bear it. She was crying.

With restraint, he approached her again, touching her face even as she scorned and pulled away. It was not out of anger, he recognized; rather shame at her own shortcoming. The intolerable hurt of physical negligence. He wanted to make it better but didn't know how.

Wearily, he rested his forehead against hers. "What can I do, luv?"

Again, she shied from him, reacting to his touch as one would react to fire. It was not like the Slayer to get embarrassed about such things. After all they had shared, this was only another stone to move. Another obstacle to face. When he finally earned her eyes, and she saw the candor behind his passion, her body softened like warm candle wax. Her answer formed reluctantly, barely above a whisper. "Touch me."

"Buffy-"

"I'll warn you if I feel myself getting too happy, okay?" she spat, though her tone lacked conviction. William frowned expressively and caressed her face with curled fingers. "But I can't...fight like this..."

"I know." And he did. Gently, he lowered his free hand between her thighs, skin on skin, and slipped one finger inside.

Buffy moaned and arched against the tombstone. "Oh...God..."

He pressed against her tightly, brushing a kiss against her temple. With steady rhythm, he pumped her, slowly but earnestly, another finger sliding into her warmth. And another. And another. Warmth. Hard to believe she could still be warm, but she was, whether by willpower or his overly active imagination.

There was no heartbeat, no racing pulse, but by George, she felt alive.

In a few steady minutes, she came softly. Bucking, her back arched and when her mouth opened to cry out, he covered her lips with his, swallowing it whole. And she released that rapture. There in his hand - four fingers within her. He shushed her with tender attention, nipping at her mouth as he withdrew from her, eliciting a small sound of complaint. The world didn't spun, but he hadn't thought it would. Watching her affectionately, he neared and kissed her again, the final calming of a weathered storm. Buffy pulled away with a satisfied hum of fresh air, adjusted herself, and took a minute to watch in fascination as he licked his hand clean.

"An' yet another similarity between myself an' my former," William jested, voice clouded with emotion. "I still love that taste."

She smiled, then frowned and glanced down. "Ummm...Spike?"

"Don' worry 'bout it, luv. I got two hands. You got a world to save."

"Don't you mean 'we'? Stupid Master can't start the damn ceremony without me. At least let me return the favor."

She reached for him, but he pulled away, caressing the back of her hands with his thumbs.

"You'll make it up to me. Really, luv, 's rude to keep 'im waitin'. Not that I particularly care or..." When she offered a suggestive smile, he couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, don'. 'Sides, I think your ten minutes are up."

At that, Buffy chuckled, grasping his hand with renewed conviction. "Well, fine. Let's go kill this thing so I can make it up to you."

"Luv-"

"I know. Happy Buffy equals Homicidal Buffy. I was there, I remember the drill. You, on the other hand, don't have that clause."

He perked a brow and spoke before thinking. He couldn't help it. "You wish I did at times, I'll bet."

"Good God! You infuriating prick. Get over it. I love you."

William smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. "I know."

*~*~*

The atmosphere on Revello Drive had not alleviated beyond a state of continuous apprehension since the three vampires departed. Dawn had planted herself in front of the television upstairs, refusing to answer anyone's inquiry and shunning the few attempts at communication made by concerned friends. She turned the volume up to drown out the sound of her crying.

Giles, Willow, and Xander remained downstairs, not speaking and busying themselves with idle activities. Anticipation hung over the roof as a cloud waiting for the right moment to release its storm. The clock above the mantle ticked with aggravating persistence, announcing the new hour so sharply that every chime, no matter how foreseeable, made everyone in convenient proximity jump.

An hour and a half into the endless wait the doorbell rang. It was one of those cruelly normal moments suspended to the degree that the sound was hardly recognizable. Only when Dawn's thundering down the stairs reverberated through the walls did Willow jump to her feet to beat her there. They nearly collided in the foyer, struggling over each other in a series of grunts before the Witch gained possession of the doorknob.

It was Anya.

She blinked in surprise, scrutinizing the crest-fallen slump of the young Summers girl's shoulders. "I didn't think anyone knew I was coming."

"They don't," Willow replied, ushering her inward.

"Will!" Xander called from the living room. "Who is it?"

The vengeance demon flashed a sweet smile as she entered, mechanically drawing off her coat and placing it over the nearest hanger. "Hello, sweetie," she greeted, voice dripping with disdain. "And Giles. Hello Giles."

Neither answered her. Everyone was aiming questioning glances in Willow's direction.

"She wants to help," the Witch said with a shrug. "I called her right after Buffy left."

"And she's just now getting here?"

Anya shrugged simply. "I was in Cambodia, punishing this guy who cheated on his wife. Turned him into an artichoke." She made a face. "Then watched the wife eat him. Willow caught me on my cell." Proudly, she held up her new toy in a shows-man-like demonstration. "It's very handy when you're constantly traveling about the world." At the sea of unimpressed expressions that answered her, she pursed her lips and put the phone away. "Well, that's not really important. So what can I do?"

Willow heaved a breath and grabbed her jacket off the coat rack. "You can stay here, as the only other magically inclined person I know, other than Amy." She took a minute to shudder her discontent.

"Technically, I'm not magically inclined. If you'd like me to reek vengeance-"

There was a grumble. "I mean...if something happened that required...argh." She sighed heavily and shook her head. "You know what I mean."

"Wait, wait, wait," Xander said, stepping forward. "In so many ways, I'm not loving where this is going. You have the appearance of someone who is about to leave. Are my eyes deceiving me?"

"I'm going to find them," the Witch replied simply. "I did a locater spell about a half hour ago."

"No!" Dawn cried. "You can't! You'll get yourself hurt, or-"

Giles frowned and intervened. "When did you do a spell? You've been in here all-"

"When I went to the bathroom." She took a minute to look sheepish. "What? It's not like either of you are really comfortable with the idea that 'Oh, Willow's using magic. Here comes the apocalypse.' All the more to go out there."

"Damn straight," Xander practically yelped. "Will, they know what they're doing out there. You could get yourself killed."

A shadow crossed her face. "Or I could really help. Ever think about that? Here I am - all magicky, and everyone's on eggshells thinking of all the harm I could do. Let's not forget the good. Tara..." She paused with difficulty. "Tara once told me that magic used for good...well, it's not harmful. I don't do it all the time now. I hardly do it at all. The entire 'not noticing' of you guys these past four years should be evidence enough. I. Need. To. Do. This. We're sitting ducks here. Well, I'm a sitting duck with a warhead, and I intend to use it."

A pained look crossed Harris's face, and all intent fell from his features as the demand in his voice averted to plead. "Willow, you're my best friend. You and Buffy...I can't stand the thought of both of you out there."

At that, she softened. "I know. I know. But...think, Xander. What if the Master is able to open the gate? What if..." A sigh of resolution. "Buffy's lost interest in saving the world. I get that. After doing it so many times, that would be a hazard. But that's no reason for the rest of us to get that way. I have to...I have to be there-"

"No!" he returned sharply. "Don't even finish that sentence, because I know where it's going. No. You can't. Not..."

"Are you volunteering, then?"

Anya's brows perked and she glanced to Giles in confusion. "Did I miss something?"

"The Master...this, vampire Buffy is facing intends to open the Gate of Abraxas," the Watcher replied tiredly. Disapproval was written across his face, but he seemed too fatigued to contest Willow's decision.

"The Gate of Abraxas?" she repeated, stunned. Everyone looked to her sharply. "Not good. Not good. Definitely not good."

Xander stepped forward and grasped her arm. "You've heard of it?...all right, dumb question. But...you've heard of it?"

Anya glanced down. "It was opened once before. Only for a few minutes. Someone managed to throw themselves into the opening and seal it before too many demons could escape."

The Witch blinked in astonishment. "You were there?"

"Business."

"As always," Xander murmured.

"It was a long time ago," the vengeance demon continued. "Before the last Ascension, if memory serves."

Giles released a long breath. "Then it was by the first Master. Why wouldn't the Watcher's Diaries have-"

"Because everyone who was there to see it kinda went mad," Anya replied. "I mean, every human. Everyone who wasn't used to seeing something so horrible. A lot of the Watchers were there, anyway. Eliminated by the Gate. Those who weren't either lost memory of it or went completely loopy."

"If it opens..." Willow said softly. "Will everyone there...Spike and Angel...will they go mad, too?"

"Not likely. They're demons. They're used to seeing...demonic things." Anya heaved a breath. "Just like me. I saw it and I'm remarkably stable."

Xander coughed loudly.

Dawn hadn't spoken for several minutes, and her eyes were carefully trained on the carpet design. "What about Buffy?" she asked softly, not looking up. "Will she go mad, too?"

No one knew exactly what to say for a long minute.

Willow took the first shot, clearing her throat sympathetically as she stepped forward, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Hon," she replied gently. "If the Gate opens, it's because she..."

Irritation surged through the girl's voice, and her muscles tightened with fury when she moved out of reach. "I know. Because she was used. I was down here when the entire 'I'm going to die...again' speech was given. But...Buffy never just...dies. Sure, she did once. But she's here now. There'd be something to bring her back."

"No, Dawnie," the Witch said gently. "If your sister goes now, she won't come back. She shouldn't have come back at all." The weight of guilty burden wore heavily in her voice. "And if the Gate opens, someone has to be there to close it."

It grew so deathly quiet that a plane could have crashed outside and no one would have noticed.

"No!" Xander finally erupted. "Willow, no. I can't...not you. Not both of you! I won't let you. No, let me go."

"No. I'm going. End of story." A powerfully pathetic look overwhelmed his features, and she felt her heart go out to him with all its infuriating predictability. "Listen, I can help. Really help. I can use all sorts of magic tricks that this guy'll never see coming. And if he does, he better watch out for Hurricane Willow. We all know how pretty that scene is. I'll give the Master a run for his money, but someone has to be there in case. Just in case." She heaved a breath of lasting conviction. "And I'm that someone."

"You shouldn't go by yourself," Giles said. There was no want of objection in his tone - rather a lasting grasp of the ever-painful conclusion.

"Buffy's going to be pissed enough to see me," Willow observed. "Imagine what would happen if everyone turned up. She'd get distracted. Really distracted. With me...Spike's there. He-"

"And again with Spike," Xander murmured.

"Listen." It was Anya, holding up her hands as if to initiate a peace treaty in the midst of an unmentioned battleground. "Everyone needs to calm down. She's right, Xander. Someone needs to be there in case the worst happens." She turned to Willow. "This is not saying I'm in support of you going psycho on us again, but I do know that you're the best shot to stop this thing. Buffy was turned. She was beaten. She's stronger now, but she could be beaten again. You need to be there."

The Witch nodded, fastening her jacket and moving for the door. "I will be. I know where to go." She looked to Xander for a sign of further objection, but he had none to offer. "I'll be careful."

"Yes. We'll stay here and play Scrabble until you get back." Anya turned back to the group. "Dawn, want to go get the board?"

No one was paying attention. Just as the Witch was nearly out of sight, Harris jumped forward and lurched the door open. "Will?" he said meekly.

She turned to him from the walkway, immersed in shadows. She looked so far away. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

A poignant smile crossed her face. Why was it that saying had such a finale to it? Her insides engulfed in sadness and the feeling of loss yet to be recognized. All at once she was lost. This was the end and there would be no return. And unaware that only a mile away their words were being echoed by two of the people she cared for most in the world, Willow nodded. "I know."

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