Dies Irae

By Medea

Dies irae, dies illa
solvet saeclum in favilla
teste David cum Sibylla
quantus tremor est futurus...

(Day of Wrath, this day
shall consume the world in ashes
as foretold by David and the Sibyl
how much fear lies before us...)

---most any Requiem Mass (I'm partial to Mozart and Duruflé, myself)

Chapter One

2012

In a Sunnydale park, the trees shuddered and tossed from the wind that raged in the night. Dark clouds rumbled across the blackened sky and swallowed up the cold light of the full moon. Dust and debris danced in the howling storm, illuminated sharply by sudden flashes of lightning.

The thunderclaps which followed were deafening, yet their sound was drowned out by an unearthly, anguished cry that echoed up to the heavens.

Willow stood with her arms stretched out to her sides, her head flung back and her eyes squeezed shut as she released a tormented wail from the very depths of her being. Not since the night she had been turned, eleven years earlier, had she felt such helpless despair.

Her scream fully spent, she lowered her head and took in the terrible scene before her.

A few paces away, Spike was kneeling on the ground. Cradled in his arms was Buffy's lifeless body. Her blood coated his lips.

Rage coursed through the redheaded vampire's veins, and her body tensed with the desire to wreak bloody vengeance on her friend's murderer. She advanced slowly, yet with lethal determination. Spike released the dead Slayer and rose to meet her.

*****

PRESENT DAY - 2002

Buffy spun with lethal precision and kicked her demon opponent squarely on the chin. Well, as squarely as was possible for a Morgash demon. He staggered back momentarily but came at her again with dogged persistence.

The thing that Buffy hated about fighting Morgash demons was their flexible, elastic physique, which made it like fighting a bowl of jello. They just jiggled and rebounded, even from the most forceful blows. The real danger was in wearing herself out against their wobbly indifference.

If only she could bring the thing to its knees and get an open shot at its ears. Killing a Morgash demon was a lot like popping a water balloon. A sharp jab to the ears, where their outer membrane was thinnest, and they pretty much burst into a gooey mess.

Purple goo, to be precise.

Suddenly, Buffy glimpsed a blur of motion and her internal proximity alarm announced a vampire. Just what she didn't need right now.

Before the Slayer had a chance to drop Mr. Pointy from her sleeve, the blur of motion darted behind the Morgash demon and caused it to topple awkwardly to the ground. Without hesitation, Buffy pounced and stabbed her index fingers in its ears, then leapt back in an effort to avoid being splashed by the demon's viscous, purple insides.

No such luck on the Hellmouth.

"So much for those shoes," Buffy grumbled as she was sprayed from the knees down.

"At least your slacks can be machine washed."

Buffy turned to answer the vampire who had, for some unknown reason, helped her against the Morgash demon.

Willow smiled hesitantly. "Hi, Buffy."

The Slayer blinked back at her, surprised.

"Willow....hi...." Buffy replied awkwardly before regaining her composure. "Thanks for the help."

The redheaded vampire shrugged nonchalantly. "Knocking opponents off balance is kind of my specialty. I go for the unexpected approach."

"Whatever works, I guess," Buffy agreed, still uncomfortable. "Speaking of unexpected, what brings you to Sunnydale?"

"You." Willow was forthright with her explanation. "Giles is worried. He called Angel."

"And Angel sent you?" Buffy's voice was deceptively light.

"Angel and I discussed what Giles told him and we both had the same diagnosis. It was my choice to come. You and I need to talk," Willow explained.

Buffy dropped her eyes, unable to look directly at the vampire who bore her best friend's face. Too much had happened in the past few weeks for her to know what to say. And it didn't help that The Date was coming up.

This weekend would mark exactly a year since the day that Buffy had wished a living, breathing Willow a great time at a conference in L.A.

A conference from which her *human* friend had never returned.

The feeling of smooth, cool wood slipping into her hand made Buffy jerk her eyes back up to the redheaded vampire, who had pressed a stake into the Slayer's hand. Buffy gaped back at her.

"Of course, you could just put everyone out of your misery and stake me," Willow murmured calmly, "Although I'd prefer to talk."

Buffy froze, the stake clenched tightly in her hand and pressed dangerously against Willow's chest. She held it there for several moments, its sharp tip indenting the indigo blue tunic draped fluidly over the vampire's form. Willow remained motionless, not so much as blinking. Eventually, Buffy stepped back and let the hand that held the stake drop slowly to her side.

"Talking is good," Buffy relented.

"Bronze?" Willow proposed.

"Sure. Fewer distractions of the creepy ghoulish variety there than here," Buffy agreed, before adding awkwardly, "Um...present company excepted..."

Willow laughed. "No problem. Besides, sometimes creepy ghouls like to relax with hot tea."

*****

Willow felt strange sitting in a former hangout from her human past. She remembered how disconcerting it had been for her mortal self to learn of the ease with which vampires and demons mingled among the patrons of clubs like The Bronze.

Now, here she was, enjoying the view from the other side.

From the look that Buffy gave her across the table, the Slayer was just as uncomfortable as her vampire companion. Their drinks -- decaffeinated green tea for Willow, a non-fat mocha for Buffy -- sat untouched as they tried to think of the best way to approach the subject. At last, Willow simply decided to confront Buffy head-on.

"So...Giles said that you've been cutting yourself off from everyone, pushing them away. He's concerned for you."

"He shouldn't be. Compared to Glory, fighting your average vamp or demon has been a cinch. Things are fine," Buffy shrugged indifferently.

"That isn't what bothers him. Being a good fighter is okay when your opponents are *outside* of yourself. But something has turned you inward. And you're pulling away from everyone who tries to help you," Willow countered.

"I'm fine," Buffy said quietly, looking distantly across the room.

"Would this be 'fine' as in completely detached from the people who have always been your best source of emotional support and physical back-up in the world's most dangerous calling?" Willow chided wryly, "Because I'm not familiar with that definition of 'fine' in the dictionary."

Buffy's eyes snapped instantly to Willow and a lump rose in her throat. It was uncanny how much that remark sounded like the old Willow.

"Why do you care?" Buffy demanded softly, her voice catching slightly.

Without flinching, Willow replied, "The old Willow would have cared. I'm not so different from her, all things considered. And that's what's been bothering you, isn't it?"

People bustled in the background, laughing and raising their voices to be heard over the general din of the Bronze. Yet silence reigned at the table Buffy and Willow shared, as Buffy struggled to sustain her solid wall of strength against the cracks that Willow's comments had opened up. Demons, she could handle. Nothing unsettled the Slayer more than confronting her own insecurities when she didn't have the solution to them.

Buffy didn't know what to think anymore. Ever since she had been told of her mission as the Chosen One, Buffy had been drilled in the official doctrine that vampires were evil -- demons who had nothing in common with the humans whose corpses they animated. But the 'demon' who sat across from her possessed greater insight into Buffy's emotions than most of her friends. Just as Willow always had.

Buffy sighed. "That's only the tip of the iceberg."

The admission was cathartic. Tension drained from her muscles and she closed her eyes as she took a deep sip of her mocha. When she set her cup down and re-opened her eyes, she saw Willow watching her with a familiar, sympathetic expression that Buffy remembered from many a late-night heart-to-heart chat.

"Problems are never small on the Hellmouth, are they?" Willow mused.

With a thoughtful lift of the eyebrows, Buffy pursed her lips slightly and began to speak.

"It isn't you that I'm afraid of...it's me..."

The redheaded vampire waited patiently as Buffy furrowed her brow, searching for the right words to express the lingering frustrations that had caused her to withdraw from her friends.

"I feel like this has been building for a couple of years. Back in the beginning, when I first started slaying, it was so easy. Kill vamps, protect innocents. Never needed to give it a second thought. But after Angel...even Spike...and now you...I can't draw the line between good and evil so clearly. Me. The Slayer. The one with built-in signals for detecting the walking dead. I no longer accept what I always thought I knew. I wonder if this is why Slayers die young? We lose sight of our purpose."

"Or maybe you just learn to see more clearly," Willow suggested. "You've already beaten the odds, Buffy. You've done more than most Slayers ever have. You've even faced a hell god. I think in your heart, you still know your purpose, even if it isn't as simple as it used to be. What you've lost sight of is the reason you've been able to beat the odds: trusting a good team of friends."

"I can't involve them any more, Willow," Buffy murmured, a pained expression on her face. "It's too dangerous. I know it was dangerous before, when I really believed in what I was doing. But now that I have doubts...I just can't bring myself to put my friends at risk when I no longer know what I'm fighting for. They deserve to move on with their lives, a little wiser for the wear."

"Buffy, what has gotten into you?" Willow demanded softly. "Nobody else doubts your judgment. Why do you?"

"Because I can't even abide by the most basic Slayer principle!" Buffy retorted angrily. " 'Vampires are evil because they kill people, and they should be staked.' But it's not so clear as that... You kill people...you've made it clear that you don't intend to give it up...but there's so much of Willow in you that I can't just write you off as evil...I can't..."

Buffy rested her elbows on the table and massaged her temples with tight, frustrated fingertips. Willow looked on with empathy and waved off the waitress when she approached.

Finally, Willow stood and moved to Buffy's side. Resting a hand lightly on Buffy's shoulder, Willow said, "I know advice coming from me is hard to take right now. I could offer you the perspective of someone who has had plenty of chances to discover how many shades of gray there are between good and evil. But I think you should talk to Giles. He hasn't let you down yet, and I think it would be easier for you to hear it from him. Just don't...well...if you ever find that you want to talk to...me...give me a call. I'll come up."

With that, Willow left Buffy to confront her inner demons and walked out into the night. It would have been useless to try to push her further. They no longer had that kind of relationship; Willow was amazed that Buffy had even said as much as she had.

Maybe there was still hope.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a town like this?"

Willow smiled and turned in the direction of her lover's voice.

"The way I remember it, you drove me here," she answered.

"Under protest," Spike clarified as he strolled leisurely toward her. When he drew close he leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against her lips, rapidly deepening it into a hungry exploration of her mouth.

"Don't...seem...to be....protesting...now..." Willow managed to murmur around his tongue.

Spike inched his mouth away from hers and whispered against her jaw, "Figured you were done here and I could take you back for a special night on the town."

"Special?" Willow asked curiously.

Still encircling her loosely in his embrace, Spike pulled back far enough to look into her eyes and said, "You've an anniversary coming up, luv. Peaches bloody well won't *celebrate* it. Actually feels bad for you, the nonce. Thought I'd let you know you're appreciated as you are."

Willow stilled and her expression shifted from surprise to amusement and finally tender affection. "I don't know what to say. That's sweet of you, Spike...so...does this mean you're glad you didn't stake me?"

"Well..." Spike admitted slowly, reaching into the pocket of his duster, "...*this* does."

He handed her a small, black velvet pouch with a silk drawstring. Willow's soft lips parted as she stared at it in surprise, and then looked up at Spike. His eyes danced invitingly, urging her to end the suspense and look inside the pouch. With a shy smile, she loosened the drawstring and tipped the pouch's contents into her palm.

A smooth, ebony stone rested in her hand. Superficially, it resembled the stones used in the Japanese game of Go. But the minute it touched her skin, and Willow felt the power radiating from its surface into her flesh, she knew exactly what it was.

"A faroe stone!" Willow pronounced with reverent awe. "Spike, *how* did you get this? The last fifty demons who have tried to extract one from the Baku Hellmouth have--"

"I know," Spike interrupted, "Got sucked into other dimensions through the vortex. S'what makes 'em rare. Damned near impossible to grab. But there *are* twelve out in the world right now."

"And you got your hands on one..." Willow murmured.

"No, *you've* got your hands on one," Spike countered. "Took me awhile to think of something as unique as you."

Willow smiled and clutched the faroe stone tightly in her hand. It was precious indeed. Faroe stones were legendary for their power, forged by eons in proximity to a portal between dimensions. Almost any spell could be broken by one, although in the case of very strong magic the stone would be exhausted by one use.

"I'll save this for a rainy day," Willow promised as she leaned up to kiss her lover. After a brief yet intense union of lips and tongues, she drew away and whispered, "Thank you, Spike. You've made me feel special."

"You are...and I can make you feel lots of things tonight, luv...Ready to go?" Spike tempted her.

"Mm hmm," Willow's reply was muffled against Spike's lips.

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