Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Thirty-Two

"What do you mean, she came and left?" Willow snapped stridently.

"I mean, very simply," Giles replied, "that Buffy came by here, said there had been an accident, and was on her way."

"She was in and out in two seconds," Anya verified. "Did something go badly? She mentioned Spike was hurt."

Xander's brows arched. "And from that cryptic message, you would never guess there was trouble. She said something to me about the ritual...that it had taken Spike's soul away and that you two-"

A pained look overwhelmed Angel's features, and he had to grasp Willow's shoulder to maintain balance. It was a poorly timed tactical move, as she chose that instant to keel forward in a fit of sickly comprehension. "Oh God!" she gasped.

The vampire retained some restraint, straightening with a huff of composure. "Something went wrong with the ceremony," he said. "The Gate opened... Buffy opened it when she threw the Master into it."

Giles had paled significantly. Disbelief shadowed his expression. "The Master?"

"We weren't able to help!" Willow sobbed. "I tried but she said it was... she jumped through! I told her she shouldn't and she did anyway. She and Spike... they raced for it and... I don't know who got there first."

"Buffy did," Angel whispered. There was no denying his assumption; the look on his face was enough substantiation for anyone to read. "She would not have said we were with her if it wasn't true. She walked right passed us without even registering that we were there."

With every minute, the Watcher was becoming increasingly paranoid. It was a wonder his glasses were still arched on his nose rather than relegated to the hem of his shirt. No one had ever seen him more troubled. "Then there was a serious miscalculation that I did not consider," he concluded in devastation. "Buffy leapt through the Gate to close it?"

Willow sniffed and drew her arm across her eyes. "Y-yes. I swear, Giles, I tried... but she was too quick. And Spike... he took off and she yelled at him and then they... they were both gone."

"In so many ways, I'm not loving the look on the G-Man's face," Xander said apprehensively. "Buffy jumped into the Gate. It's closed, I presume?"

Both the Witch and Angel nodded weakly.

"Where's Spike?"

"She carried him out," the vampire answered. "The look on her face-"

"-like she was dead-"

"-she didn't know who she was, or where she was-"

"-I was afraid to say anything. She looked as though-"

"The Gate of Abraxas tore her soul from her body," Giles murmured. His voice was barely above a whisper, but the revelation echoed through the house with all its horrible conception. "It should have killed her... but she was already dead. The portal couldn't recognize that distinction." It was a face the Watcher had never before worn. Every spark of animation withered and died. For long seconds, it appeared he would break down, but he did not. His grief was beyond the expression of tears. "Dear Lord..."

Anya frowned, unsettled beyond reproach but still maintaining a firm grasp on her stamina. "Well... why didn't she come and kill us, then? She appeared fine when she dropped by. She-"

"The orb," Xander gasped, tears clouding his eyes. "She took the orb. Said Willow needed it for the curse."

The Watcher looked at him sharply. "You gave it to her?" he snapped, but there was lack of conviction to support the indictment. "You simply handed it over?"

"How was I supposed to know?!" the other cried. "It was... it was Buffy! She said she needed it and I gave it to her. Just like you would've done. Don't start pointing fingers at me!"

"He's right," Angel muttered. "Any one of us would have done the same. If Willow and I hadn't seen her for ourselves..."

Color was slowly returning to Giles's visage. The same face of disbelief overwhelmed him, but the clockwork of his thought process was beginning to tick once more. "What about Will? You say she carried him out?"

"He was unconscious," the Witch explained. Her face was swollen red from crying. "I guess the Gate knocked him out. She was holding him and she carried him out."

The concern glowering through Anya's eyes became significantly more manifest. "She... she wouldn't... hurt him... would she?"

All eyes fell on Angel.

The vampire sighed. "The only vampire I knew... well, personally, who was sired by the Master was Darla. She made me, and you guys know the story. There were many things that she was... when I knew her. Before..."

"Yes, before you impregnated her," Anya said. "We understand that. Go on."

He tossed her a dry look, but they lacked time for petty squabbling. "She was a menace. Just like any other vampire... only not. She... she had the capacity for love that Spike had. That Dru had. That I-"

"Lacked?" Xander offered.

There was no denying that, but even still, Angel managed to appear somewhat hurt. "Yes. I'm not sure what to expect of... of Buffy. She loved Spike, right?"

Harris nodded. "For reasons beyond me."

This time, both Giles and Willow sent him a look that warned him to tone it down before they interjected verbally. It was a message well received.

"Well, seeing as they share vampiric roots... she might have tried..." Angel shook his head. "But she would have failed, from what I've seen of him. Sp... erm... Will. Whatever you call him these days... whatever he did, if he's regained consciousness... it's been enough to keep him alive. For now, at the very least." Aggressively, he turned to Willow. "Do you have any idea where she would have taken him?"

She shook her head, another onslaught of tears grasping her before she could speak.

"None at all? Any place unique to..." The word was difficult to place for its implications, but that made it no less valid. "Them?"

"Not that I can think of."

Angel rolled his eyes. "Come on. There has to be something! When she and Spike were together-"

"Together in the sense of using him for sex?" Xander asked unhelpfully.

"I don't care how or in what sense!" he finally shouted, flustering in remnants of still-lingering embitterment. It was an odd color on him, especially at such a moment. "Where would they go?"

"To his crypt." The voice came from the top of the stairs, carrying with it much-craved ignorance and repression. Dawn was finally emerging from her room, having once again bombarded herself inside after Willow left hours earlier. "When Spike and Buffy were doing the funky monkey, I'd think the safest place for them to go would be his crypt."

Xander made a face of disgust. "Ummm... yeah. Having seriously revolting flashback here. Remember when Buffy was inviso-girl? I went to ask Spike if he had seen her and he was..." For a second, it appeared he really was going to be sick. "He was... 'exercising' on his bed."

"Exercise on his bed? Who would..." Willow turned bright red and looked down. "Oh. I get it."

The next question was the sort only Anya would have the gall to ask. "What kind of exercises?"

Harris arched a brow. "Push-ups. What did you think?"

"Well, he could have-"

"Really, Ahn!" He stepped back, covering his ears. "That's the sort of question nobody expects you to answer!"

She frowned. "Then it's stupid to ask."

"Enough talk about the sexcapades," Dawn stated, directing her gaze toward Giles. "What's going on? Why the group convo? Where's Buffy?"

An ambush of uncomfortable looks were exchanged.

The look of mild disconcertion converted into full-blown distress. The girl's eyes went wide and, without suggestion, tears started skating down her cheeks. "What? Is she... she... where's Spike?"

Willow stepped forward and tried to grasp her arm, but she pulled away with fervent force. "Don't bullshit me!" the Summers girl cried. "I don't want anything but the truth. Where are they?"

"We don't know," Giles said, finally removing his glasses. "Spike is alive, according to Angel. He will know if something happens. Your sister..."

"What?!" The shrill in Dawn's voice nearly breeched the sound barrier. "Where is she?! I deserve to know!"

"Buffy threw herself into the Gate," Anya said, earning a look of dissatisfaction from all angles. In defense, she shrugged and raised her arms in defense. "Good God! In case you haven't noticed, the girl is a teenager. It's not like she was raised on Care Bears and all those other warm fuzzies."

"Bunnies?" Willow suggested.

"WHERE?!" The vengeance demon leapt a mile in the air. When she noted the terrain was safely void of rabbits, she scowled at the Witch. "Not funny. Anyway, do you want me to tell her, or is one of you going to suck it up and do the adult thing? I'll do it if-"

"The Gate?" Dawn repeated, anger giving way to straight shocked abandonment. "Buffy threw herself into... the Gate? But...I thought that was... she..."

"To close it, sweetie," Willow explained, drying her eyes. If the matter was to be discussed with the young one, they had to gain composure of themselves. It would not do well to express such a want of forsaken hope in front of her. "The Master... well, he had your sister's blood in him. When he went through, the Gate opened. Buffy ran to close it. She and Spike... they both went through."

Angel rapidly stepped forward and grasped the girl's shoulder before she lost balance. For long minutes, they coached her to breathe and waited patiently for her to gain control. If by will or incredible stamina, Dawn refrained from breaking down. Her breathing fit seemed to be the worst of it. When she was ready to hear more, she glanced pitifully to the Witch in silent encouragement to continue.

"They both came back through," she concluded. "Buffy... she... she carried Spike out of there. Then she left."

At that, the girl grew angry. "What? And you didn't follow her? You didn't see if she was all right? God, you heartless-"

"Dawn." Giles this time - calm and collected, but still horribly shaken. "Something... something went horribly wrong with the ritual. Something that I should have..."

The reaction was instantaneous. At once, her skin paled and her eyes went wide. "What?"

"Buffy was able to close the Gate of Abraxas... but in retribution, it stole her goodness."

Realization struck, delayed and lingering in the shadows of denial. Dawn took a step forward, trembling anticipation returning to her tone. "Ummm..." she stuttered. "In English please?"

"Since Buffy is a vampire, she is already dead," Angel explained. "The Gate couldn't kill someone who's already dead. Not with the way it took lives. I'm suspecting it registered her as gone and stole her... her soul from her instead."

That was it. Dawn burst into tears and crumpled into a helpless heap on the ground. Immediately, Willow, Giles, and Xander all went to comfort her, but she screamed and tore up the stairs. Her thundering steps quaked through the house, and the slam of her door made the foundation shake. What occurred in the solitude of her bedroom left little to the imagination - between gaps of silence, the sound of muffled sobs filtered down the corridor.

A few minutes were needed to regroup.

"I have no idea what to expect of a soulless Buffy," Angel said, stepping forward. He grasped the railing on the staircase and squeezed so hard his already-pale skin whitened another shade. "But a vampire with that sort of strength... I don't want to think of the consequences. Spike's alive for now, but we can't bet how long her patience is going to last. Once she tires of him or gets frustrated, she'll likely stake him or... or something equally unpleasant. Wherever he is, we need to get him out of there. As soon as possible."

"I'll do another locater spell," Willow volunteered. "But I need some more herbs. I used most of my supplies during that last one." She turned to Anya. "Can you take me over to the Magic Box?"

The vengeance demon nodded. "Sure. We open at-"

"Now would be a good time!"

"Oh." She took a minute to look inconvenienced, then shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. But I want you to know this is strictly against store policy. It's nearly-"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Oh get on with it!" he snapped. "We used to do it all the time!"

"Used to being the operative phrase there, Harris," his former love replied contemptuously. "If memory serves-"

"You two will have plenty of time to settle your issues later!" Giles intervened. "In the meantime...Angel and I will visit the old crypt. It's a dead-end, but it's better than nothing."

"What do you want me to do?"

The Watcher looked Xander over cautiously and sighed in forlorn defeat. "Do you think you could hex the house? Make sure Buffy is uninvited? Once she tires of Will, she will most definitely come here. She will want to sever the ties to everything that ever made her-"

"Human," Angel whispered. A look of cold remorse shadowed him for brief seconds, but he was well beyond the point of reliving his sacrament. "I remember. We better go."

Giles's gaze remained trained on Harris. "Do you think you can do it?"

At his sheepish expression, Willow stepped forward and patted his shoulder encouragingly. "You don't need to be a warlock to do it, Xan. Just put the garlic and crucifixes up and say the incantation."

"We better take some crosses and stakes with us," Anya observed. "You know... in case we see anything."

Angel glanced at the Watcher. "You should, too. Just... watch where aim those things."

Heaving a breath, Giles nodded. "I concur... but be careful. We don't want to stake Buffy. There..." He turned to the vengeance demon. "Do you carry any Orbs of Thesula at the Magic Box? I'm not sure if they're still bought as paperweights. If not, we'll have to order one from England."

"I haven't sold any in a while," she replied, "or had to mark them on inventory. Truthfully, between managing that store and reaping vengeance across the world, I don't know where I get any time for myself. I'll look. Unless the shop's been raided or something..."

A still beat drew across the room.

"We better go," Willow said hurriedly, grasping Anya's arm.

"Yes...us, too," Giles replied. "Watch out, Xander. And arm yourself."

With haste, both teams took off. It was time to brave the night.

*~*~*

He awoke when the strain on his arms became unbearable. It felt someone was trying to tear his limbs from their sockets. The scent was different than he remembered. Wisps of feather-like fiber dangled between his fingers. William blinked once, then again, straightening his composure. That initiated a chain reaction; every nerve in his worn body howled in pain. Something rattled against stone and prompted his eyes open wide.

He was not where he had fallen asleep. The long forgotten chains he had once imprisoned Buffy in were once again being put to good use. William drew in a ragged breath, his eyes adjusting to the dark, vampiric or not. He welcomed the dark.

Such pain had not felt the plateaus of his physical existence since Glory wreaked fun during her torture session. He did not care to see what marks were there in reminder.

Another breath was all it took, and all the memories flooded through. William moaned aloud, his body straining to arch forward and held by the clasps that fastened each wrist. The bolts held still as he knew they would. He had not fashioned them in mind of an easy escape. With cunning, he stilled once more in dim recognition that she was close. Had to be close. He wondered mutedly how long he had been asleep.

"Very sloppy of you." Porphyria's voice came from the shadows. A mocking tone - completely void of any sentiment that might have harbored during their last exchange. "Brave, of course, in that really...'I have a death wish, ask me how' kinda way. My, my, Spike. Are you slipping? I would've thought even you would have the intelligence to-"

"Shove it, you right bitch," he snapped. "Can't blame a fellow for gettin' a bit winded every now an' then."

"Oh, but lover, you can't get winded. You can't use any of those mediocre excuses. I know what it tastes like, remember?" Slowly, Porphyria emerged. Not enough to truly engage the darkness, but he saw the outline of her form. The physique and foreign twinkle buried within those sadistic eyes. "I would've thought that you, of all the stupid vamps in this town, would have understood that. After all we've shared. After all you put me through." Quietly, she advanced again. He wasn't aware of her propinquity until her smell invaded his nostrils, her chest brushing against his. "You finally got what you wanted, didn't you, Spikey? Here I am. A creature of the shadows. I must say: your world fits very nicely. I think I like it here."

"I know well enough not to listen to a bloody word," William retorted, stretching forward, pushing into her in a silent ode that called her bluff. "You may walk the walk, pet, but you're the furthest thing there is in this world from a decent rendition of the good Slayer Song. They'll know when they see you."

Porphyria grinned madly, leaning forward until her mouth brushed against his. "Oh, but that's what makes it so sweet, my darling. They didn't. None of them. Not even Ripper, if you can imagine that. The big idiot! I walked right up to him-"

The platinum vampire growled ferociously and strained forward, ignoring the pain that sprung up and down his side and tackled his shoulders with brutal merriment. "'F you 'urt a one of 'em," he growled. "I swear, by God..."

"Now we're talking!" She turned away from him gleefully, stepping again into the dark. "I knew there had to be a little animal somewhere in you. A stupid soul couldn't have driven it all out. Let it go, Spike. Imagine the fun we could have."

"Easier said than done, pet," William retorted, spitting a tasteful of his own blood to the floor. "Not that I care a lick to help the likes of you."

A mocking tone filled her voice. "Oh stop. You'll hurt my feelings."

He strained again, pulling forward with useless effort. "You let 'er go! Stupid bint!"

"Why should I? I like it here." She prowled forward again, resting her hands on his chest. Cold skin atop cold skin. He shuddered in affect. With a saucy grin, she licked her way up to his ear, and whispered alluringly, "Don't pretend you haven't always wished this would happen, Spike. Think of the possibilities. You could have me any way, anywhere you wanted. We've earned this, don't you think? Me with my stupid slaying and my stupid morals, and oh FUCK the world!" Her eyes gleamed with sparks of insanity. "And YOU! With your pathetic penance. With your blubbering every two seconds about 'Oh, I wish things were different.' Like I wasn't a bitch in heat that didn't have it coming. I-"

William snarled and vamped, lunging his fangs for her and missing with a selective dodge. She cackled when she saw him, her eyes shining like emeralds. "You're not 'er," he snarled, fighting back the new desperation that struck. He remembered how effortlessly she had placed him under her whim while enticed upstairs, and would be damned if that would happen again. "You're not 'er, an' you know it. Bloody wench. Don' think they'll stop."

"What? GILES? The Brigade of all Do-Gooders Anonymous?" Porphyria cackled. "What can I say? I gave them a chance. A real chance. Walked in there, right under their noses, and took away the only possible thing that could restore... well... anything."

Even through the darkness, he could see the orb gleam as she held it up for examination. Something black pierced his heart. Oh, luv, he pleaded softly. 'F she did what she's suggestin' she did, I hope to whatever it is up there that likes to see us muck up so bloody much that you never come back.

"I thought we would destroy it together," she continued, tossing her toy in the air casually. "Of course, I thought a lot of things. I thought I'd come in, have a pleasant talk, get you to see the light, if you pardon the phrase." The flinging was become exceedingly careless, and he knew it was by intention. Any minute now, she would allow Buffy's salvation to shatter. "But, we both know how that turned out. I suppose it was fair warning. You did tell me that even if I was as stubborn as a mule, I was in there with the champ."

"Jus' tell me, you halfwit," he hissed, struggling again with his bindings. It was no use. "Where are they? What did you do to 'em?"

Porphyria frowned, ceased her play with the orb, and crossed her arms. "This is really bothering you, isn't it?"

"You blind-sighted bitch! Tell me! I'll rip your soddin' throat out if-"

At that, humor leaked back into her eyes. "Oh? Is that right? And what? Bid farewell to every chance of seeing your precious Buffy again? I don't think so. You might think you're noble, Spike, now that you're bleeding-soul man. We'll always know the truth. I could tell you I killed every one of them, drained them dry, and used Dawnie's bones to pick my teeth, and you wouldn't harm one solitary hair on my head."

"I gotta handful of scalp 'ere to prove you wrong," he spat.

She cackled in amusement. "You old romantic. You're out there, searching for your redemption like some pantywaist when there's real fun to be had."

"An' you're singin' an age-old song, luv," William replied. "Learned it from me, you did. 'S no use, you bloody bitch. It'll never work, this game you're tryin' to play. An' if you 'ave harmed any of them, especially Red, Ripper, or the Bit, I'll tear you're bleeding head off."

Porphyria sneered and stepped forward once more. "The People's Hero. How very sad."

"What-"

"I'm not going to tell you, so you can stop asking. Find a way out of here yourself, and you can see what's there. Or what's not there." Her brows arched in challenge as he growled in affect. Unthreatened, she warmed up yet another pace. "Or...if you play real nice, I'll undo your bindings for you and we can have a little fun. Come on, you big baby. You know you want to."

William shook his head in desperation. "You're not 'er. You're not. You never will be."

"What? In the same way that you're not Spike? Hah! That's pathetic." Porphyria was within reach again, and while he remained in game face, he did not attack. Instead, he allowed her to stroke his cheek, his chin, follow her eyes down his chest until reaching for the apex that made them both gasp in a combination of painful pleasure. "This certainly feels like Spike," she mused, squeezing him gently. The peroxide vampire's eyes closed and he gritted his teeth together to keep from moaning. His failure to verbally react only made her grasp him harder, and she leaned forward, nudging his throat with her nose. "You smell like Spike. The look, the voice. Baby, you got it down. Don't you see?" Another firm squeeze. He bit his tongue to distract himself. "There is no William the Bloody without his soulless counterpart. You would not be halfway as interesting if you weren't at least a part of him. You would not exist without the other. So there has to be..." Squeeze. "Has to be a very... large..." she grinned as he caved, unable to withstand anymore, and glanced at his very ill-timed response. "Part of you... that enjoys this a little too much. That just wants to give in."

"Why should I?" he croaked. "'E never would."

Porphyria arched a cynical brow. "Normally, I would say to trust the source, but in this instance-"

"You're not 'er, you crazed bint," William cried with resolution, grasping control on his physical reaction and doing his damndest to reel it inward. It didn't work, but it was worth a shot. "All right... so as a soulless git, I'd prolly find this right entertainin'. Might play it out for shits an' giggles. But I'd never love you. You're not 'er. An' whether I'm William or Spike, anyone who's not 'er jus' has shoes that 're too large to fill for your own good. So sod off an' find yourself a new toy."

"Love?" she snapped, releasing him. "Who says I want love?"

"Who says anyone'd want you?" he countered. "You got your lines good an' memorized, pet. But this town's full of chaps loyal to the Slayer. An' once they find out about you an' 'er, an' angry mob'll chase you down. Get staked good an' proper."

"Oh, Spike. That's ridiculous. Angry mobs are so dated. Besides, this is California! You talk a lot for someone who has nothing to say," Porphyria observed. "You'll want to watch that. We don't want to chance you getting yourself...hurt." With that, she turned and melted again into the shadows, and he knew she was not returning. "The night is young, Spikey, and I have a whole new lifestyle to get accustomed to. I do hope you find something entertaining to do while I'm gone." The sounds of her retreat stopped, and pause lent quietly in her tone. "Oh... and while I'm thinking about it..."

It was expected, but that did not draw away the shock that raced up his spine when the orb hit the ground. Even in the still dark, he watched it dance into a thousand sparkly pieces, clinking against cold ground before settling to its rest.

She was gone, then, without another word. Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach, and before he could help himself, William was crying. There with nothing but the silence to mock him. Each tear represented a new cause. The girl he didn't save. The people he needed to protect. The love he had lost, and feared would never again see.

God, please, he begged. Or whoever's up there that finds this so bloody amusin'. 'F you 'ave an inkling of mercy...let 'er 'ave been bluffing. Please, let 'er 'ave been bluffing.

He waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming.

There was nothing to do in the iron dark. Nothing to do but wait.

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