Chapter Six


~*World Falls Away*~


**


"They were talking about a circle...The Circle of the Black Thorn...yeah, that's what it was. Something about taking them all at once...I think I caught the tail end of the conversation, but I overheard just enough to get the jist of what's going to happen," Buffy was explaining excitedly over the phone to Giles. She paced the carpeted floor of the hotel room frantically as Diego looked on.

"The Circle of the Black Thorne you say, Buffy? Giles asked. "I've only heard brief mention of the Circle here and there. I never truly believed that they existed...in Los Angeles of all places."

"So, who or what are they, Giles? What's Angel up against here?" Buffy asked, coming to a stop near the large window that overlooked downtown Los Angeles. She twisted the phone cord around her finger and stared ahead thoughtfully.

"Mmm..." Giles murmured. "I'd have to consult my books, gather the Council. Unfortunately my knowledge is limited when it comes to the Black Thorn, but if what I've heard is true, than Angel may have his hands full, he may need our help."

"I'll do what I can from here," Buffy said.

A moment of silence fell between them over the phone line and Buffy held her breath.

"And what of Spike?" Giles pressed softly. Buffy looked down sheepishly, as if her Watcher had the ability to see the guilty expression on her face over the phone line.

"Don't know about that yet," she replied slowly. "I really can't talk about it right now, Giles. I'm sorry."

"Understood," Giles replied. "Keep me informed, then. I'll be in touch with any information I might find. Will you be speaking with Angel soon?"

"Tomorrow," Buffy confirmed.

"Right then," Giles concluded, "take care of yourself, Buffy."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and sighed heavily. She couldn't let Giles hang up...not yet.

"Wait...Giles?"

"Yes, what is it?"

Buffy paused as she took a deep breath and then walked to the bed, sinking slowly onto it.

"I-I'm sorry...f-for running off like I did. It was just...well...I couldn't--"

"Buffy, I understand," Giles interrupted softly. "I know what your reasons are and I respect them. That is all I will say."

"Ok," Buffy replied. "So, information, right? Call me as soon as you get something I can work with."

"Goodbye, Buffy."

"Bye."

Buffy flipped her cell phone shut and stuffed it in her back pocket, swinging her gaze across the room to take in Diego, who was glancing through a newspaper. He lowered the paper and got to his feet, crossing the room to face Buffy.

"It is done then?" he asked with a lift of his brow.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, "it is. Giles is gonna hit the books and tomorrow I'm gonna hit Angel..." she started to giggle and then finally composed herself, clearing her throat. "I mean I'm going to Wolfram and Hart, going to talk to Angel."

Diego grasped Buffy's arms gently, smiling down at her.

"Do I dare say that you looked excited, my dear?" Diego queried, the corner of his mouth lifting in a wry smile. Buffy ducked her head and did her best to hide a smile.

"I am. A little."

"Can I ask why?"

Buffy glanced up at Diego, lifting a shoulder nonchalantly.

"I don't know, Diego. It's been so long since I've made myself useful in a Slayer-related way," she replied turning away from Diego and walking toward the window to gaze out again. "I guess I've been feeling a little useless you know, since Sunnydale. And now there's all these girls out there, with my power, my strength...my title," she finished softly. "I guess I've just missed being in charge, taking charge. Is that stupid?"

Diego crossed the room and gently laid a hand on Buffy's shoulder, turning her to face him.

"It is not stupid to want more from your life, Boffy. I know of your sadness, I know how you grieve...for him. Something has been missing inside of you...something that he took away. Now you have a chance to regain what you lost. Take what is yours, my dear, what rightfully belongs to you. There is no harm in that."

Buffy wrapped her arms around her body and lowered her gaze to her feet, contemplating his words for a moment. Spike had taken something from her, but not in the way that Diego was thinking. When Spike had died, he'd taken with him Buffy's ability to trust in her own feelings, in the things her heart was saying to her.

Before Sunnydale had collapsed, Buffy had believed that she was doing the right thing in all matters concerning Spike. Yes, she'd understood what kind of sacrifice had been at stake when she'd handed the amulet over to Spike. She had allowed him to take responsibility, not only for her destiny, but for the others as well. She hadn't walked into the whole thing blindfolded and neither had Spike.

But, Buffy had foolishly hoped, like the optimist she'd been back then, that she and Spike would somehow make it out alive...that a miracle would happen. She never dared to believe that he would really perish, that he would leave her.

In the few months that they'd been under the same roof, Buffy had learned about Spike, listened to his thoughts and feelings, valued him as a person...instead of merely seeing him as a monster. With that, she had pulled away from any narrow-minded views she might have held in the past. She had turned a new leaf.

She'd let Spike's voice be heard. Something she'd never done up until that point. Before then he'd been nothing more than a murderer, a stalker, and a nuisance. When she'd come back from the dead he'd been a protector, a trusted friend, a confidante. And after that...well...she couldn't really say. Maybe she'd finally opened her eyes a little, brushed aside the cobwebs and taken a good look deep inside of herself.

The entire time that she and her friends had been bracing for whatever the First was going to throw their way, Buffy had been making her own plans...and they had nothing to do with the Scoobies, Dawn or Giles. She'd been preparing to make a confession...the last night she and Spike had spent together in Sunnydale she'd almost told him...almost...until the First had shown up and distracted her. After that, it had been too late.

And it had slipped out at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

I love you...

No, you don't, but thanks for saying it...

Could she right the wrongs now? Could she atone for her sins against the one man who had loved her unconditionally, without judgment, without bias? Spike had deliberately kept his return a secret from her...it had to mean something. Unfortunately, with the brand new trouble brewing, there wasn't a whole lot of time for Buffy to explore her options. She had to get in touch with Angel, she had to help in any way she could.

And she had to talk to Spike. Soon.

A knock on the door interrupted her reverie. She looked at Diego and shrugged.

"Who could that be? Everyone I know is here," she murmured walking to the door and pulling it open. When her eyes landed on the visitor standing in the hallway, she physically jumped and gasped aloud.

"Angel!"

The vampire's brow knitted as he studied Buffy. There was a tense moment of silence before Angel finally spoke.

"You gonna invite me in?" he asked. Buffy shook herself.

"O-of course," she stammered, "you can come in."

"Thank you," Angel replied stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes fell on Diego and then he turned back to Buffy. "New guy?"

Buffy laughed aloud and glanced at her friend.

"Diego? Oh no, no no..." she rambled, "he's just a friend!"

Angel nodded as if to say 'yeah sure', a half-smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Diego took that moment to step in.

"I will leave you, Boffy. I'm sure there is much to discuss," he said hurriedly, stepping around Angel. Diego and Angel made eye contact, sizing one another up respectively. "I trust you are Angel, sir?"

"The one and only. You are?"

"I am Diego."

"Got it, Diego. Can I have a minute here?" Angel asked, with a lift of his brows.

"Of course," Diego answered. "As I said, I will take my leave. Boffy?" He turned to glance across the room at the Slayer.

"I'll see you later," she said. "And thanks."

Diego nodded and then left the room. Angel turned to glance at Buffy, taking a step forward.

"So...you think you can sneak into my law firm and go unnoticed?" he asked, thrusting his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. Buffy chuckled nervously.

"How'd you know?"

"Security cameras," Angel answered, "caught the whole thing."

Buffy nodded.

"Should've known that, thanks."

A beat of silence and then Angel stepped closer.

"So what'd you want?"

Buffy frowned and folded her arms across her chest, eyeing Angel through hooded eyes.

"I think you know," she replied, her tone clipped and steely.

"Why don't you tell me anyway?" Angel asked, leaning forward to gaze at Buffy questioningly.

Buffy dropped her arms to her sides and closed the distance between herself and her former lover.

"Do I really have to explain myself to you?"

Angel shook his head.

"No...But just for grins...why don't you."

Buffy sighed and walked to the bed, taking a seat. She folded her hands in her lap and lifted her gaze to meet Angel's.

"Why didn't you tell me about Spike? Didn't I deserve to know?" she asked in a small voice. Angel took a seat beside Buffy and faced her.

"It's complicated, Buffy. Everything with Spike is complicated," Angel sighed. "You know that as well as I do."

"Did he ask you not to tell me?" Her voice was small, diminished, as she searched his eyes desperately.

Angel sighed heavily and got to his feet, pacing the floor in front of the bed.

"In not so many words. He's too busy being a pain in the ass to ask for much."

Buffy couldn't hide her smile. Centuries had passed millennia’s...and Spike and Angel still annoyed the hell out of one another. If it was another time and another place she would have liked to put the two of them in a room together, purely for entertainment purposes. Briefly, she flashed back to a conversation she'd had with Spike...seemed like a lifetime ago.

"You know, I should put you two in a room together, let you wrastle it out..."

"No problem on this end..."

"There could be oil involved..."

She was thrown back to the present when she noticed the look Angel was giving her.

"What's so funny?" he asked pointedly. Buffy shook her head with a barely disguised snort.

"Nothing. Just tell me about Spike."

"No," Angel shook his head, "you can't ask me to do that. If there's something you want to say to him...by all means go and say it to him. I'm not really interested in this game the two of you are on intent on playing with one another."

Buffy got to her feet and faced Angel with a glare.

"It's no game, Angel. This is my life...my heart. It's not something I'm taking lightly. Spike shouldn't be, either." Angel's brow shot up and off Buffy's look he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"What do you want me to say, Buffy? Spike is pining for you...that he absolutely can't live without you?" He cried. "Well, I can't. Because I don't know. Maybe you didn't get the memo, but Spike and I aren't actually close personal friends. There's the hate...and the mutual...well, just the hate...but you know what I mean. So don't put me in the middle of this. As you probably know, I've got bigger fish to fry."

"Apocalypse. Coming soon. I heard," Buffy replied, switching into Slayer mode. "You wanna tell me about that, or am I just gonna have to get it off the street?"

Angel sighed and pressed his palm to his forehead, as if trying to decipher what words he would say. Finally, he met Buffy's eyes.

"Ok, long story short. There's Wolfram and Hart, the senior partners, and the Circle of the Black Thorn. They gave me the keys to the kingdom in hopes that I would become corrupted and evil. I don't play like that. So, I...actually we...are going to take them out. One by one. Starting with the Circle...tomorrow night."

"What happens tomorrow night?" Buffy questioned, narrowing her eyes.

"The senior partners take their revenge."

Her brows lifted and her eyes widened.

"Revenge?"

Angel stepped closer, peered into Buffy's eyes.

"Hellfire and brimstone, the whole works. They're not going to be pulling any punches, Buffy. You sure you want to be involved in this?"

Buffy didn't even hesitate, she nodded curtly.

"You bet your ass I do."

Angel straightened, once again thrusting his hands into his pockets. He eyed Buffy warily.

"Good. So, this thing with Spike...is it going to be like a...huge..." Angel motioned the air with his hand, searching for the words.

"Ordeal?" Buffy filled in. Angel nodded.

"No," Buffy replied with a shake of her head. "I won't make it into one, if that's what you're worried about."

Angel released a long breath.

"Thank God," he said.

Buffy held her ground.

"But I do need to see him; I need to talk to him."

"Figured," Angel replied, lowering his eyes. Buffy detected a hint of sadness in his tone and placed a hand gently on his arm.

"Is this going to bother you? Because if it is--"

"No," Angel interrupted lifting a hand. "It won't. I'm over the whole you-and-Spike-had-a-relationship-thing. And, I should have you know, I'm seeing someone else." Angel lifted his chin a little, eyeing Buffy.

"That's great," Buffy grinned. "Go you...I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," Angel nodded. "And don't worry about seeing Spike...he may be a horse's ass, but I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. Mostly."

"Thanks for that," Buffy replied, looking away a moment and then once again meeting Angel's gaze. "I think."

The two of them headed to the door and prepared to say goodbye.

"So, you're with me on this?" Angel asked.

"Definitely," Buffy confirmed. "I'm waiting on some info from Giles. I can have it to you in the morning."

"Good. That will help," Angel said turning to leave. Before he stepped out, he turned to face Buffy again. "Hey, I'm glad you're here...despite the circumstances. Can't think of anyone better to have by my side in a fight to the death."

"Glad to help, Angel," Buffy assured with a smile. Angel nodded and turned to head down the hallway.

"We're probably gonna lose...but it's the thought that counts," he muttered with a shrug as he shuffled away. Buffy thrust her head out the door and peered down the hallway.

"That attitude? Not really helping!" she called down the hallway. Angel lifted his hand in a nonchalant wave and walked away.


**


The night was eternal, it seemed to wane unnecessarily. Buffy tossed and turned in bed, the sheets tangled around her thighs. For the fleeting hours that she did sleep, she dreamt of Spike. Some of the dreams were tortured and others were tender and poignant.

More than once, Buffy woke to the feel of tears sliding down her cheeks, and an ever-present ache in her chest, as if her heart was so heavy that she could feel its weight bearing down on her. Finally, she crawled out of bed, slipped a robe on and headed toward the French doors overlooking the balcony.

Breathing in the crisp night air, Buffy wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. She took in the eerie silence on the Los Angeles streets below and found a certain amount of peace and tranquility in it. She wondered if Spike were doing the same exact thing as she was…at this moment…staring at the sky…pondering what life was all about.

Buffy doubted it. But, it was a nice fantasy…comforting. Her body was cold, she longed for strong arms to wrap around her, imagined the comforting weight of someone holding her tight…and that was when the tears came. She brushed them away hastily, not allowing herself to indulge in self-pity. She didn’t dare to even think about what tomorrow would bring, about what she would say to Spike.

Turning on her heel, Buffy slipped back into the hotel room and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets to her chin as she shivered slightly, the coolness of the night air clinging to her skin…almost like a lover’s caress…it made her think of Spike. His cool vampiric touch, though devoid of any of the warmth associated with a human touch, had done more to earn a response from Buffy than any human hand could ever do.

No warm-blooded male had ever made her feel like Spike. It was almost bittersweet how the cool hands of death could make her feel more alive than she had ever felt before. She had never minded that Spike’s skin, his body, was cold. In contrast, it was those differences that set him apart from other men…and it made Buffy love him more.

The moonlight shone through the curtains and she marveled at the thin silvery beams that caressed her skin. Closing her eyes, she conjured his image once again, as she had done so many nights for nearly a year.

Her body ached for him. Her heart longed for him. Her fingers itched to caress the pale smooth skin of his face, to trace her fingers over the sculpted perfection of his cheekbones, the soft curve of his lower lip. She was so close to him…so close…yet it still felt as if they were miles apart. Not only in body, but in soul. Buffy’s eyes flew open at that moment and she choked back a sob.

She had to stop torturing herself this way or she would be a wreck when she faced Spike in a few short hours. Holding it together was proving to be a feat that demanded all of the energy and focus that Buffy possessed. It was like Slayer training…times ten.

But, she couldn’t sleep.

And thinking of Spike was helping…it was comforting.

It would get her through the night.


**


Buffy shaded her eyes from the bright piercing rays of the sun and found herself longing for a pair of sunglasses. The sun seemed to be harsher this morning, brighter…as if it held the infinite knowledge of what was to transpire over the next several hours.

Buffy dismissed her thoughts, wondering when she’d become so philosophical. It wasn’t in her nature to ponder over the earth, over nature and its intricate binding on this plane. That was Willow’s department. Buffy needed to stay focused on the matter at hand…or the matters as the case would be today.

Diego had opted to stay behind at the hotel, waiting by the phone in case Giles happened to call with more information about what they were all going to deal with. So far, she didn’t have squat and hated that she was going into this new ordeal empty-handed. She hoped that Angel had managed to come up with a plan, because she was fresh out of ideas. The Circle of the Black Thorn was big-time stuff, almost out of her league…even though she had faced all manner of monster and villain.

For the first time, Buffy felt as if she were over her head…biting off more than she could chew. But, she was here now, in the thick of it. She would stick it out…but only because of Spike…because of her innate desire to speak with him before it all went down.

Heading into Wolfram and Hart, Buffy tamped down the butterflies that had started to flutter in her stomach. Had Angel spoken to Spike? Had he been given a heads up? Buffy seriously doubted that. Angel had vehemently protested that he not be involved, so it was up to Buffy herself to do the confronting.

To say that it was going to be an interesting day, was putting it very lightly. The fact of the matter remained clear though, Buffy was damn terrified.


**

Angel was talking to his group when Buffy stepped onto the main floor where the offices were located. They had their backs turned to her, so she was able to slip unnoticed into Angel’s office, where she would wait. She couldn’t hear the pep talk that was occurring, but she was sure Angel was inspiring them in one way or another. Or just being pompous and over-bearing, however one wanted to look at it.

She remembered fondly her own speechifying in the days and weeks before the collapse of Sunnydale. Too bad the memories associated with those speeches weren’t of the happy variety…but at least Buffy had gotten her point across. Death and destruction were a tough sell, especially if you had a potential named Kennedy in your group. Buffy shook the memory away. Today was not about her, it was about the Senior Partners, the Black Thorn and about taking back something…what that ‘something’ was, Buffy couldn’t quite figure it out.

Just then, she noticed that the group talk had ended and that the others were nowhere in sight. Except Angel, and he was heading toward the office…

With Spike trailing right behind him.

Buffy got to her feet and held her breath.

Big moment.

Now or never.

It seemed to all happen in slow motion. Angel entered the office and then turned to face Spike, who had stopped short behind him and was now craning his neck around the bulking frame of Angel’s body, trying to see what his grandsire was hiding.

Buffy could hear the blood rushing in her ears, which made it impossible for her to decipher what Spike and Angel were saying to one another. Finally, Angel stepped away, allowed Spike to walk around him. Spike smirked at Angel, took two steps around him and then stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes taking in who was standing before him. His expression of haughty rebellion seemed to fall from his face and his eyes narrowed.

Buffy clasped her hands in front of her body nervously and waited…

Spike tilted to his head to the side and studied her for what seemed like an eternity. No words passed between the occupants of the room, as Spike took another step closer. He seemed to be at a loss, incapacitated in a way that Buffy had never seen before.

She herself had been rendered speechless. She couldn’t seem to form one coherent thought as she and Spike stood before one another for the first time in nearly a year. She tried to search her brain for something to say, but came up empty. Spike took another step closer, eyes still narrowed in confusion. He glanced at Angel as if to say ‘what the fuck’?

The urge to laugh bubbled up in Buffy’s throat.

And then Spike spoke…at last…

“Hello, luv.”

Neither Spike nor Buffy saw Angel leave the room, closing the door softly behind him. The silence seemed to fill the room, take up every iota of space.

All Buffy could do was stare into the cerulean depths of Spike’s eyes. Eye contact between them never faltered as slowly, Spike reached out a trembling hand and caressed the side of her face, the tenderness etched on his features causing Buffy’s throat to close up, her eyes to sting.

“You’re here?” Spike asked in wonderment, unable to hide the tones that colored his confusion, his utter disbelief. His eyes searched hers in awe and amazement, a tiny half smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m here,” Buffy whispered back shakily.

What more could she say?

Spike stared into her eyes, cocked his head to one side and continued to study her. Buffy felt the kiss before his lips even touched hers…anticipated it. His hands framed her face and his head lowered…he moved closer and closer…until finally, he claimed her mouth in a kiss that robbed Buffy of the air she breathed.

She couldn’t help the groan that emitted from her throat, couldn’t help the way her arms circled around his body and pulled him close in a desperate need for contact. Every breath, every movement seemed to take its own time…but the ache was so very sweet.

Buffy breathed in Spike’s scent, put it to memory…just as she’d done a thousand times in every fevered dream she’d had since they’d lost one another. She suddenly felt as if she’d traveled a long and perilous journey to reach this place and now she was home…sheltered…secure in the circle of Spike’s strong embrace.

What was lost had now been found.

He was here and so was she…

And the world fell away…time stopped…

And the circle was complete.

At last…


**


Now that we're here
it's so far away
all the struggle we thought was in vain
All the mistakes
one life contained
they all finally start to go away
Now that we're here
it's so far away
and I feel like I can face the day
I can forgive
and I'm not ashamed
to be the person that I am today…


**


End of Chapter Six

to be cont’d with chapter seven: shadow on the sun…
 

Chapter Seven

~*Shadow on the Sun*~


**


The moment was supposed to last an eternity, but in life, no one ever really got what they wanted, what they wished for. If it had been up to Buffy, she would have never left him. Alone. To die. Somehow, some way, she would have…she halted the flow of her thoughts. No. Nothing could change what had happened, how she had allowed it to happen. Some things just were…there was no way to change the past.

What was done, was done.

Buffy knew that she was defying everything in what it meant to be angry, as she held Spike, pulled him closer to her body. She was justified, damn it. With the doubt and the fear and the not-knowing what tomorrow would bring.

So, why had Spike dropped his false bravado, pulled her into his arms, kissed her as if his life had depended on it? Why didn’t he get angry, defensive? Why didn’t she throw a hard right into his jaw, just to feel the bones crack…in some way to give her the satisfaction she desired, craved?

He had lied to her, for Christ’s sake. Alas, she had fallen into his arms like nothing mattered, melted into a warm puddle of something and just…given in.

It wasn’t in Buffy’s nature to give in. Or, at least it hadn’t been back in the days when she’d been alive. But, had she ever truly been alive? No. Not in any sense of the word. That is until…Spike.

Spike had been the only to make her feel alive. And now he was alive. The tables had turned. The world had tipped on its axis. Nothing was real anymore.

Buffy didn’t know what to believe.

That was why she pulled away, clamped her mouth closed so the words wouldn’t escape, squeezed her eyes shut so the tears wouldn’t fall. If she could have, she would have closed her mind…anything to stop herself from feeling and thinking. Balling her hands into fists, she resisted the nature of the Slayer within…the instinct to hit, to bruise. It wouldn’t be fair, not now.

Now, Spike was staring at her with narrowed eyes, the perfection of that ‘what the fuck’ look painted so firmly upon his features and that scarred eyebrow…lifted slightly in pain…confusion. The scar made Buffy’s skin tingle made her fingertips ache to trace over it, to memorize it.

So much that defined Spike.

And still, Buffy felt as if she didn’t know him at all.

That was why he had lied to her. Because he didn’t know her, either.
They faced one another, eyes connecting, searching…questioning. Neither of them had spoken, which was uncommon between them, since they’d spent the better part of six years bantering and bickering, waging a battle of wills that could never be won.

Buffy realized she didn’t know what to say. For all the hours she had spent agonizing, going over and over in her mind what she would say when they faced one another…it had been futile. She had nothing.

Spike crossed the room, closed the distance and faced Buffy. He tilted his head to study her, and Buffy’s knees went a little weak.

Oh God.

How could he do that? With just one look, one gesture? She was putty in his hands, warm honey. And he knew it. Spike had power over her…always had. No matter what she did to deny it, to hide it, Spike always regained the upper hand.

It had been that way for years, even before Buffy realized that she love--

She shook her head to herself.

Love? She didn’t know what she felt anymore, if the word could so easily define the complication that had been her relationship with Spike.

He was still staring at her.

Say something damn it, she begged him with her mind.

“Buffy,” he finally said.

Her name on his lips had never sounded sweeter. For years it had always been ’pet’, ’love’ ’Slayer’. She could hardly recount the times he had ever used her name…her real name. She loved how his accent wrapped around the vowels and consonants of her name, the way his mouth formed the word…she could never tire of looking at his mouth.

She couldn’t bring herself to forget the way he used that mouth, not only in whispering huskily in her ear the things he wanted to do to her, but also in the way he had used it on her body.

Buffy had to shake herself mentally. She tried to steer her thoughts away from the path that they were heading on.

Dangerous ground she was beginning to tread upon, that was for damn sure.

“Spike,” she whispered, taking a step closer.

“I missed you,” Spike murmured throatily, as if his emotions were starting to get the best of him. “I’m sorry I-”

Buffy pressed a fingertip to his lips, shook her head.

“No apologies, Spike. No time for that now,” she begged, leaning closer. Her lips were only mere inches from his and Spike was not one to let opportunity pass him by. He seized her mouth, his palms framing her face, as he dragged her in for another soul-searing, full-on, pedal-to-the-medal kiss that threatened to bowl Buffy over.

God, she’d missed this.

She groaned and let him trail hungry kisses down the side of her face, her hands reaching out to grasp his head, drag him closer, until his mouth rested in the juncture between her neck and shoulder. His tongue darted out, laved the skin. His teeth gently nibbled the soft sensitive area, until Buffy was panting, gasping…begging.

And then he pulled away abruptly.

The void he left behind was so cold, made her feel empty inside.

Spike held Buffy at arm’s length, staring at her intently. She wanted to beg him to kiss her again, but it seemed the moment had passed, and now Spike was dropping his arms to his sides, taking a step back.

He seemed uncomfortable, somehow jarred in a sense, by the power and sheer force of his love for her. It was almost too much for Buffy as well.

Suddenly, she needed to breathe. The walls of the room were starting to close in on her. Buffy could imagine that Spike was feeling the same way. They needed to take a breather, evaluate the situation. She took a step back and rested against the heavy mahogany desk that seemed to fill the room. Spike did the same.

Buffy didn’t know how long the silence between them was going to last. She didn’t want to waste time on the past, drag up all of the ugly things they had done to each other over the years. It was too hard, too painful…but altogether inevitable.

If she wanted to know the truth, then there was no other way. Eventually they would have to speak. Time was running out. The apocalypse loomed on the horizon, scary and horrible.

They might die tonight.

Buffy stared at her feet, searched for the words to say. She could feel Spike’s eyes on her, watching and waiting as if he was begging for her to make the first move.

It was up to her, then.

“Explain it to me, Spike,” she finally said. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Spike shift uncomfortably, crossing one foot in front of the other, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his duster.

“Not much to explain, love,” he answered. Buffy gave Spike a sideways glance, remaining silent so he would feel compelled to continue. She would give him time to explain his side of the story. It was only fair.

“Please,” she begged softly, “I have to know.” Spike shook his head, didn’t meet her eyes.

“I just couldn’t…not after…” Spike frowned and pushed himself away from the desk. He started to pace around the room.

“Is it because of what happened in the Hellmouth?” Buffy asked and for that she was shot a disparaging look.

“Does it have to be?” Spike cried.

“I don’t know!” she shouted, “I’m doing the best I can here!”

“What do you want from me, love? A play by play? A minute by minute account?” Spike made a sound of frustration and ran a hand over his hair, continuing to pace in agitation. “I just can’t…after Sunnydale…that soddin’ amulet…”

“The amulet?” Buffy frowned and shook her head. “What do you mean about the amulet? Did something happen? Did you--”

“It sent me here. Transported me or some bloody thing. Not like I planned it. Think I wanted to be sent to the Poofter’s corporate haven in the sky. Not bloody likely!” Spike seemed to be rambling; Buffy was having a hard time keeping up. She was confused and a little out of sorts.

“Spike, please…what are you talking about? How did you get here? Was it a spell? O-or some kind of--”

Spike halted his frantic pacing and crossed the room to stand before Buffy. His eyes searched hers desperately, as if his mind were racing, trying to find some way to explain things to her. Finally, he sighed resignedly, glanced up at the ceiling as if to compose himself and then met Buffy’s eyes once more.

“I don’t know how this happened to me, Buffy. All’s I know is that one minute I’m with you in the Hellmouth, the next I’m here, wanderin’ the halls as some bloody spook. Didn’t want it this way. Just happened. Man can’t die in peace, even when he’s saved the world,” Spike explained, his voice trailing off as his emotions rose to the surface.

Buffy took a step closer, reached out to Spike. He didn’t pull away, only stared back as if he were waiting for something horrible to happen.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Spike?” she whispered. “I could have helped…we could have--”

“You could have what, Buffy? Saved me? Rescued me? Pfft…I don’t have time for pity, love. Save that for the Poofter, he’ll benefit more than I will,” Spike retorted haughtily. Buffy folded her arms over her chest and eyed Spike warily.

“That’s what you think? That I would have pitied you…felt sorry for you? Please,” she spat, “could you possibly contemplate getting over yourself for one minute?” Spike’s head shot up abruptly at the tone of Buffy’s voice as she continued. “You don’t know anything, Spike. You really don’t.”

“Care to explain then, love?” Spike asked.

“What’s to explain?” Buffy cried, flinging her hands into the air in exasperation. “You’ve got it all figured out.”

“Really don’t,” he answered roughly.

Buffy sighed in frustration, raised two fingers to her temples and massaged them. Finally, she lifted her eyes, a little taken aback when Spike frowned.

“I died inside when you…” she stopped short as her voice cracked. She took a breath and continued. “A part of me died with you in that cave, Spike. After I…and when you…”

“After you told me you loved me,” Spike finished.

“Yes,” Buffy said with a nod. “Rejection blows, Spike. You rejected me. And then you died.”

Silence followed as the words hung in the air. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, as she tamped down the urge to cry. The lump in her throat was becoming impossible to swallow around.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, love,” Spike admitted softly after a few minutes had passed. “Just had trouble believin’ what I was hearin’ is all.”

Buffy could understand that. For so long, she had denied Spike, pushed him away. She’d done everything in her power to make sure that he kept his distance. And when she’d finally spoken the words he’d wanted to hear, he hadn’t believed her. Cause and effect. It was as simple as that.

So, she truly was to blame after all.

Suddenly, she didn’t want to talk about this anymore. The conversation was starting to hit a little too close to home. At that moment, a knock sounded on the door. Buffy couldn’t help the relief that surged through her veins.

A distraction. A way out.

She glanced at Spike. He swore under his breath and then stalked to the door, pulling it open.

“This better be bloody important…or I’ll--” Spike stopped short and swore again when his eyes fell on Angel standing sheepishly in front of the door.

“Sorry to interrupt. I know you guys have things to talk about…”

“Oh, just bloody get on with it,” Spike mumbled stepping aside and allowing Angel to enter.

“Merely saying,” Angel said, “but we’ve got bigger problems. Slight apocalypse, remember? You guys didn’t forget?”

“What is it, Angel?” Buffy asked, thankful for the interruption.

“Giles. He’s on the phone, wants to talk to you. I think he’s got a lead on the Black Thorn,” Angel said, looking uncomfortable.

“Fine,” Buffy said with a curt nod. “I’ll take it in the conference room. And that would be where?”

“Uh…down the hall. Third door on the right,” Angel muttered. Buffy brushed by the two vampires and strode from the room. Angel glanced at Spike, who was doing his best to avoid eye contact with his grandsire.

“So what’d you do now?” Angel asked.

“Oh, piss off,” Spike growled and stalked from the room, leaving Angel standing there, mouth gaping open stupidly.

“Something I said?” Angel asked to himself with a shrug.


**


Buffy hung up the phone and sat slowly in a nearby chair. The room was cloaked in the warm golden tones of early afternoon sunlight as it shone through the large windows that lined the far wall. Everything suddenly seemed so insignificant, so futile. She was preparing to fight a losing battle. They all were.

The Black Thorn were no garden variety demons. Separately, they were nothing to get excited about. But, together, they could rain down terror and destruction like nothing Buffy had ever gone up against. For the first time, she was at a total and complete loss. What was Angel thinking, getting himself into something like this?

Apparently he had balls the size of--

A sound interrupted Buffy’s thoughts and she turned her head, noticing that Spike had entered the room. She sighed and got to her feet.

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” she said brusquely, stepping around him and preparing to leave the room. Spike’s hand around her wrist prevented her and she whipped her head around angrily. “Let me go.”

“Can’t do that, love,” Spike replied with a shake of his head. “Never could.” Buffy pulled her wrist from his grasp.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” she snapped, eyes flashing with a fury she could barely contain. Spike seemed to disregard Buffy’s sudden change in attitude, only tilting his head and smiling. This only succeeded in adding fuel to her fire. Where the hell did Spike get off giving her that shit-eating grin?

“What are you smiling at?” Buffy finally asked, crossing her arms over her chest and giving Spike a petulant look.

“You,” was all he said with a slight chuckle and shake of his head. Buffy narrowed her eyes and studied Spike. He must be losing it because…

“The pout,” Spike interrupted, nodding in her direction, “the lip has returned.”

“Spike,” Buffy sighed in exasperation, “you’re changing the subject. We have…a thing that needs discussing and absolutely no time for joking around.”

Her words seemed to be falling on deaf ears, because Spike was inching closer and closer. As much as she wanted to step back, Buffy found that her feet were having difficulty moving on there own.

What the hell was wrong with her?

C’mon Buffy damn it…one foot in front of the other!

Spike was in her personal space now, invading it, inching closer. Buffy released a ragged breath as his palm cradled her cheek, caressed it.

“Spike,” she breathed airily, “don’t.”

“Stop me,” Spike grinned and then lowered his mouth, claiming hers in a soft hungry kiss.

Buffy was powerless, it was all she could do not to slump into Spike’s embrace and beg him to take her…bend her over the damn conference room table and pound into her body senselessly…anything to purge away the guilt, the blame and the sadness that she had been carrying around for nearly a year.

Buffy didn’t notice she’d started to cry until she felt the moisture on her cheeks. Spike sensed the change in her emotions and lifted his head. He stared down into her eyes, framing her face with his hands. His thumb tenderly swept at the tear that had begun to trail down her cheek and Buffy’s insides liquefied, her knees quaked.

“Don’t cry love,” Spike whispered, “and stop blaming yourself.” Buffy shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip. How the hell did he do that?

“How do you know that I blame?” she asked, tipping her head up and meeting Spike’s eyes.

“Just do, love. I know you, remember?” Spike answered with a lift of his brows. Buffy couldn’t help chuckling. Yeah, he did know her. He knew her better than anyone. He reached to stroke her cheek, a far-off look in his eyes. “I know how deeply you feel things and how seriously guilty your conscience is. Don’t try and tell me that you don’t blame yourself, cause I know you do.”

Buffy frowned and bit her lip. He was always doing that, breaking down the walls she had carefully constructed around herself. He walked through her barriers as if they didn’t exist, as if he had a right. And she let him in every time.

So that was what true love was all about then. Buffy hadn’t realized until that very moment how wrong she’d been over the years. Seeing Spike again was doing wonders for opening her eyes. About everything.

“I love you, Spike.”

He frowned, reared his head back slightly. Buffy almost wanted to laugh at his expression, but tamped the urge to do so.

“What did you say?” he asked, brow lifted.

Buffy pressed her body to his, placing a palm on his chest, idly fingering the buttons of his shirt.

“You heard me,” she said.

“Well, I think I want to hear you say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

A beat of silence passed between them as Spike studied Buffy. She found herself holding her breath. Would he deny her again?

“I love you, too,” he finally spoke and Buffy stared at his mouth, hypnotized by the way it formed the words, almost unbelieving that what he was saying was real. The kiss that followed the statement was real. Very real. It sent sensations like electric shocks, traveling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Spike hadn’t rejected her. Suddenly, Buffy’s shoulders felt incredibly light, the heaviness of guilt lifting away. Breathing heavily, Buffy pulled her mouth away from Spike’s, tilting her head to glance into his eyes.

“So, what happens now?” she asked. Spike traced a finger down the side of her cheek, his hand resting at the curve of her jaw. Slowly, achingly, he glided his thumb over her bottom lip, which began to tremble.

“Got places to be,” Spike murmured. “Night might be our last on earth.”

“Whatcha got in mind?”

Spike sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. He walked to a nearby chair and sank into it, the leather duster settling around his legs. Buffy stood beside him, resting a palm on his shoulder tenderly. He contemplated his feet for a moment and then turned his eyes to meet hers.

“Angel…he told us…we should live today like it was our last,” Spike said. His tone started to sound reflective, tinged with a hint of sadness. When Buffy didn’t answer, Spike continued. “So, there’s this thing I want to do…been wantin’ to do it for sometime. Got you here with me now, so I won’t have to go alone. Come with me then, pet?”

Buffy wasn’t sure what Spike was asking her to do, and realized that it didn’t matter. He could have asked her to jump off a cliff and she would probably have said yes without hesitation. Of course, she would go anywhere with him, do anything for him. Buffy nodded slowly.

“I’ll come with you, Spike,” she replied.

“Right then,” Spike said, getting to his feet. “Off we go.”

Buffy walked to the chair near the phone and grabbed her jacket. Spike dutifully took it from her and helped her slide her arms into the sleeves. She gave him a tender smile, placed her palm against his cheek, as their eyes met briefly.

Hand in hand, they exited the conference room together, just as the sun began it’s descent into the western horizon. The afternoon hours were waning, which meant that darkness would soon fall and a battle would begin shortly thereafter.

Two hours and counting until sunset.

Buffy didn’t want to think that far ahead. For now, she was with Spike. They were together. If eternity meant just two hours alone, then Buffy wouldn’t have traded it for anything. Two hours were better than no hours. And spending those fleeting moments with Spike didn’t seem like such a bad way to go out.

Buffy wouldn’t have had it any other way.


**


Meanwhile, half a continent away, Rupert Giles was pacing frantically and speaking loudly into his cell phone.

“Willow…listen to me. Get to Los Angeles as quickly as you can. I don’t care if you have to fly, or teleport or whatever the bloody hell it is that you must do. Just get there. The matter is of immediate urgency!”

“What’s going on Giles?” Willow asked with concern, holding one hand over her ear to muffle the sound of the tribal drums that beat in a steady rhythm throughout the village.

Giles’s voice broke up across the line and Willow shouted for him to repeat himself. The Wicca shot a worried glance in the direction of her lover, who stood off to the side, arms folded over her chest with a frown. Willow listened to the response on the other end of the line, stated that she would do whatever it took and then hung up the phone.

“What is it, Willow? What the hell’s going on?” Kennedy asked, stalking after her lover who had started to walk frantically, mumbling to herself. They reached a makeshift tent and Willow slipped inside, ignoring Kennedy as she began to throw things into a bag.

“Willow!” Kennedy shouted. “Talk to me, damn it!” She gripped the redhead’s shoulder and whipped her around.

“I-I’m sorry, baby,” Willow murmured, touching Kennedy’s face. “There’s trouble. In L.A. And I have to go now. I have to help Buffy…a-and Spike…who for some reason is suddenly alive,” Willow shook her head and continued, gazing into her lover’s eyes. “But, you can’t come with me, love. I have to go alone. Understand?”

“No, Willow. I don’t understand,” Kennedy argued, shooting a petulant look in the Wicca’s direction. “So, that’s why you’re taking me with you. The hell with Giles, I need to be with you. Whatever it is that’s going down I want to be there for it. Maybe I could even help.”

“No…” Willow began, but her protestations were cut off by the finger that Kennedy placed to her lips.

“No arguments, hon. I’m going with you. We’re gonna throw down together. Ok? Like we promised.”

Willow searched her lover’s eyes sadly. The drums were still pounding relentlessly in the background, as if the tribal warriors had some sense of what danger loomed in the air, even though it came from across the world. Willow relented.

“Fine. Get your stuff. We’re teleporting so maybe you should go to the bathroom first. The trip can be…a little bumpy.”

Kennedy nodded with an exuberant smile and then turned and grabbed her knapsack from the dirt floor of the tent, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Ready, Red. Let’s do this thing!”

Willow gave Kennedy a sheepish smile and then reached for her hand. She closed her eyes and began the incantation. A flash of light…and in moments they were gone…


**

End of Chapter Seven

to be continued with chapter eight: the one
 

Chapter Eight

~*The One*~


**


The club was semi-crowded when Spike and Buffy strolled in. Some of the patrons recognized Spike and shouted greetings from across the room. Spike nodded in acknowledgement and strode to the bar, where the bartender wiped a glass down and raised his brows at the new patrons who seated themselves across from him.

“Hey Spike,” the man drawled slowly, his eyes dragging over Buffy with interest. “See you got yourself a nice lookin piece of a--”

The man’s words were cut off when Spike lunged across the bar and grabbed the man’s throat in a strangling grasp.

“What’s that mate? Can’t hear you on account of my hand against your windpipe,” Spike growled, increasing the pressure as the man gurgled and sputtered.

“Alright, alright,” the bartender gasped, his eyes beginning to bulge as he struggled for air. Spike grunted and released the man, who stumbled backward into the display of liquor bottles against the mirrored wall.

Buffy watched the entire exchange with amusement, not bothering to step in, knowing that it was futile. Instead, she simply sat back and enjoyed. It was fun to see Spike being all macho and semi-barbaric.

“You don’t talk about a lady that way, mate,” Spike said, shooting the frazzled bartender a murderous look. He grabbed Buffy’s hand and led her away from the bar.

“Nice place,” Buffy mumbled from the corner of her mouth. Spike had the grace to look pained as he turned to look at her.

“Best I could do on short notice,” he answered.

“If you want I could really mess that guy up over there,” Buffy said hopefully jerking her thumb in the direction of the bartender who was now glaring heatedly in Spike’s direction. Spike hesitated and then shook his head.

“Heart’s in the right place, love. But we haven’t got much time. Didn’t come here to start any brawls anyway.”

He leaned forward to capture Buffy’s mouth and then smiled.

“Let’s do what we came here to do, then.”

“And that would be?” Buffy asked.

Spike nodded toward the front of the club, in the direction of a platform. On it stood a lone microphone and a wooden bar stool.

“One last thing I need to do before I leave this earth,” Spike muttered and Buffy wondered if he was speaking directly to her or just talking to himself. She decided it didn’t matter, as she settled into a seat and watched Spike lumber to the platform.

He glanced around at the various patrons sitting in the audience and stepped up to the microphone. He nodded at someone in the shadows and was instantly handed a shot of something or other.

He downed the shot in one swallow, shook his head and then reached for the microphone. Buffy held her breath. Was he going to sing? She couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Spike. Singing a song. Seeing was definitely believing.

Buffy folded her arms over her chest and contemplated the vampire, who gave her a toothy grin, mock-saluted her with his shot glass and then tapped on the microphone.

“There’s some things I need to get off my chest. Gonna do this right and proper, mates,” Spike bellowed, as the sound of feedback from the audio echoed around the room. Buffy resisted the urge to cringe as she waited for what Spike would do next. The voices in the crowd began to raise, various people applauded, some laughed.

Buffy waited in amusement.

This was gonna be great.


**


“Poetry?” Buffy was asking as they exited the club, arms around each other. Spike glanced at Buffy sheepishly.

“What?” he asked. “It’s a thing, right?”

Buffy shook her head with a grin.

“Yep, it’s definitely a thing,” she laughed. “A thing you would do.”

“Didn’t hear anyone complainin’,” he continued gruffly, “didn’t you hear the cheering? I was bloody brilliant in there.”

Buffy wrapped her arm tighter around Spike’s waist and accepted the kiss he placed gently on her lips.

“Brilliant?” Buffy shrugged good-naturedly. “I guess. But drunk? Definitely.”

“You just shut your gob,” Spike murmured as they came to a stop. They faced one another, and Buffy looped her arms gently around Spike’s neck with a grin.

“Make me,” she whispered.

“Oh you know I will,” he answered, lowering his mouth over hers once again. “Just as soon as I--”

Spike’s words trailed off as the kiss deepened, Buffy’s tongue probed his lips to separate, to allow even more access. Tongues intertwined, mouths fused as passion flared between them, the overwhelming heat of unabashed desire burning with an intensity and an urgency that had been denied for too long.

The easy banter they had been sharing soon evaporated into an all consuming and powerful force of mutual longing…an ache that couldn’t be ignored anymore.

The fog was settling in her brain, but Buffy managed to brush it aside, if only to cling to the last remaining moments of clarity that she possessed. She thought back to those last nights in Sunnydale, when Spike had resided in her basement.

And when, in her darkest hours, she had come to him, seeking comfort, seeking strength and most of all seeking love, how he had opened his arms to her willingly, without prejudice or blame. How he had allowed her to step into his embrace, seek solace…without asking a single question.

And Buffy had found what she’d been looking for.

The search had ended right than and there.

They hadn’t made love, hadn’t even spoken to one another, as if words could not truly define what they meant to each other. Sex had seemed pointless, because all they had managed to do with the joining of their bodies in the past was to hurt one another.

Buffy had found contentment and peace in Spike’s arms on those lost and lonely nights as precious time in Sunnydale had crept closer toward the end.

Tonight, she would find it once again, but this time…there would be more.

She was ready.

Buffy broke the kiss and lifted her eyes to meet Spike’s. His eyes were mirrored with the same desire, the same need. The need was shared, so powerful and potent…and tangible. No words were spoken between them as Spike grasped Buffy’s hand, as they began to walk.


**


They arrived at Spike’s apartment ten minutes later. Buffy knew that time was of the essence. They only had an hour and forty five minutes until sundown. Such a short amount of time to fit in a lifetime’s worth of love. It was almost excruciating how finite everything was turning out to be.

A relationship that always seemed to be balancing on a tenuous tight rope of ‘now’ or ‘never’.

A damned if you do, damned if you don’t scenario.

But, the two of them weren’t damned. Not anymore. And as she fell into Spike’s arms, Buffy realized that the urgency of the apocalypse looming on the horizon didn’t matter. It was a life or death situation now, but it had suddenly become inconsequential.

Whatever happened, whatever became of the terror that was coming, Buffy knew that she would die with the knowledge that she had been true to her heart, at last. And if she went down, she knew that Spike wouldn’t give up without a fight. He would keep going, because of her, for her.

Buffy understood now.

She had no more regrets, no more guilt. The weight, the burden…was gone.

It was time to let go.

Bliss was only a heartbeat away.

Somehow, they ended up in Spike’s bedroom. Buffy could hardly remember climbing the stairs to his apartment, going through the door…as if all coherent thought had been swept from her mind. At first, they came together heatedly, passionately. Clinging, caressing, clawing, biting. Just like their violent couplings of the past, when it had only been about feeling, and fighting, winning and losing.

And then tenderness.

Gently, they fell onto the bed, bodies’ level with each other as they stretched out side by side. Buffy reached for Spike urgently, pulling him atop of her body in the desperate need for contact, for closeness. The leather duster was slowly peeled from his body, deposited on the floor with all the gentleness and concern one would reserve for a precious artifact…because it symbolized Spike, defined who he was…and it deserved deference.

She tore at the black tee that seemed to cover his upper body like a second skin, awash in the familiarity of it all. All this time and Spike hadn’t changed a bit. Buffy decided that she preferred it that way. She felt as if she had finally come home, at last.

The shirt was tossed carelessly across the room, followed by the familiar black jeans that he was never without. Through eyes hooded with desire, Buffy watched as Spike undressed her, slowly, agonizingly.

He peeled her clothes off bit by bit, with an amazing amount of sensuality and control that he had never exhibited toward Buffy in the past. Her throat ached with the tears she wanted to weep over the profound joy she was experiencing at this moment, with this man. Finally, everything was stripped away and she was naked and waiting…for him.

“God,” Spike moaned raggedly as his eyes took in her body, “you are a sight, love. You don’t know how long I’ve been dreamin’ about this, waitin’ for this.”

“Spike,” Buffy begged, “please?”

Spike dragged a hand over the skin of her throat, causing her to arch her body into his caress, moan softly. It was all he could do to tear his eyes away from the loveliness exhibited before him. Without a moment to lose, Spike had covered her mouth with his, was stroking her thighs, nudging them apart with his knee.

Buffy knew that she was ready, could feel the warm liquid sensation of her arousal as Spike’s fingers combed through the tangled curls between her thighs, and parted the slick folds of her sex.

“So sweet…” Spike murmured, lowering his head between her thighs, “so bloody sweet.” He darted his tongue around her clit, encouraged by the sound of Buffy’s delighted moans of approval.

He delved his tongue inside, covered her mound with his mouth, as her body arched, the muscles stretching taut. When she was close, Spike lifted his head, watched her through lowered lids as ecstasy etched itself, like a masterpiece, over her features.

Their eyes met and Buffy pulled herself up, steadied herself on her elbows and giggled when he literally crawled up the length of her body to cover her deliciously. They kissed languorously, as if the night belonged to them forever.

The tantalizing feel of skin against skin, of alabaster colliding with golden was a powerful sight, and one tinged with so many meanings. Where she was soft, he was hard. It was a marvelous contradiction, two wrongs making a right, two halves connecting to make a whole.

Perfectly and completely.

Buffy rolled their bodies expertly, until she was on top. Biting her lip, she tucked wayward strands of blonde hair behind her ears. She grinned salaciously, her eyes never leaving Spike’s, and then began to sink down slowly over his erection. The moan of approval that greeted her was all the encouragement she needed to succeed in pushing Spike over the edge.

When he had filled her completely, Buffy’s eyes flew open, her mouth rounded into a perfect ‘o’ as the sensations surged through her body. She stared down at where their bodies were joined and then leaned forward, pressed her palms to Spike’s chest and began to move, slow at first, and then with increased speed, just so she could watch the reaction play across Spike’s features

Spike’s hips bucked, his body lifting from the bed with a mind of its own as they began to cry out in unison. Buffy’s arms trembled as she fought to keep her body upright. Spike lifted his head, eyes captivated by the gently sway of Buffy’s breasts.

She gasped with pleasure when Spike sat upright, leaned forward and clasped one of the tiny pebbled nipples between his teeth, tugging gently. Amazingly, they remained joined.

In the space of a heartbeat, Spike once again regained the upper hand, flipping their bodies. He was in control; eyes boring into hers as he matched Buffy’s movements mirrored his thrusts to the gentle rhythm of her body.

They were one. Joined. Buffy’s features crumpled, her mouth fell open, the breath hissing through her teeth. She clasped Spike’s arms, bucked her hips and let her head fall back, leaving her neck and throat exposed.

Spike seized the moment, burying his mouth in that fragrant juncture, laving the skin with his tongue. He began to salivate, knowing that his fangs were so close to rupturing, that he was so close to…

The fangs slid from behind his teeth and Spike angled them against Buffy’s throat as his thrusts became frenzied, the sound of the head board pounding against the wall as the pinnacle was close to being reached.

Buffy could feel the insistent pressure of Spike’s fangs at her neck. She shivered with desire, and wrapped her thighs tighter around Spike’s hips, urging him to plunge deeper…so much deeper. The pressure on her neck increased and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable pain and pleasure that the thrill of the bite would bring.

She wanted, in that moment, for Spike to cross that final line, to puncture her skin, to taste her life’s blood. She wanted him to have everything, to take back what she had stolen from him so long ago.

“Do it, Spike,” she urged. “Please. I want you to!”

Spike lifted his mouth, stared down into Buffy’s eyes as he continued to thrust. She reached up and caressed the face of the monster. Spike’s face transformed into his human guise, the fangs retreating. He arched back, thrusting urgently. Buffy held on, pleasure swirling low in her belly, thighs trembling.

She screamed his name as she came, as he filled her completely…a feeling like Buffy had never known before washed over her, as the blood rushed in her ears, as the walls of her inner sanctum came crashing down.

Spike’s climax followed Buffy‘s, as he huffed her name with each thrust into her body. At long last, the crises came, and he fell onto her body, depleted…drained.

And complete.


**


“Ok, here’s the plan,” Angel was saying as he eyed the group of wary warriors fanned around him.

“We come in hard and we come in strong. Everyone knows their jobs. We meet in the alley north of the Hyperion. Understood?”

His eyes darted around, taking in everyone. The solemn face of Wesley, who nodded, tight-lipped. Gunn’s steely determination as he gripped an axe tightly in his hand…and Illyria, who looked on with silent disinterest.

Spike tightened his arm around Buffy’s waist, channeling her strength into his body. Buffy had never felt as empowered as she did at this moment. With Spike at her side, there was no feat too impossible, no mountain she couldn’t climb.

They would fight, as they always had. But, this time they would take what belonged to them, what the Senior Partners threatened to rip away. Angel took a breath and continued.

“I don’t know what the Senior Partners have planned. I don’t care. All I know is that it will be hell and it will rain down on us like never before. Are you ready to take a stand?”

Everyone nodded in unison.

“Alright then,” Angel said lifting his sword and studying the blade. “Let’s end this. Tonight.”

Everyone filed away slowly, until Angel, Spike and Buffy were the only ones remaining. Spike thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather duster and faced Angel.

“Bloody brilliant you are with the speechifying, Angelus. Way to rev up the troops, yeah?” he smirked. Angel rolled his eyes and shot Spike an annoyed glance.

“Better than you could have done, Peroxide Boy,” Angel muttered as they began to walk toward the bank of elevators leading to the first floor of the building. Spike shrugged.

“I just leave the pep rallies to the cheerleaders with experience, mate,” he cracked. Angel sighed and lifted his sword, swinging it in Spike’s direction.

“Remind me again why I let you hang around this place, annoying me?”

“Because we’re best pals?” Spike mocked. Angel shook his head, appearing unfazed by Spike’s flippant comments.

“Just do your job and try not to get killed,” he said. Buffy waved her hand in the air.

“I think that would be my job, making sure Spike doesn’t do anything stupid,” she said with a smile. Spike turned to look at Buffy.

“Thought you had a little bit more faith in me than that, love. Remember who saved your precious skin in the Hellmouth?” Buffy shook her head.

“I think I remember Clem being there,” she joked as Spike’s eyes narrowed slightly. Angel hung back, but neither of them noticed as the elevator doors slowly opened and they stepped into the car. As soon as the doors closed, Spike pulled Buffy into his arms and stared into her eyes.

“All joking aside, pet, we’re gonna come out of this you and me,” he stated, gently stroking Buffy’s arms as he held her close. Buffy leaned closer and pressed a kiss to Spike’s mouth.

“I want to believe that,” she whispered, idly fingering the lapel of his leather duster, “but I lost you once…” her voice trailed off as her eyes swung away guiltily. Spike lifted her chin with a finger, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Don’t talk like that. Don’t even think about it. Too much on the line now to go pissin’ it all away. Alright, love?”

Buffy could only nod. She feared that if she opened her mouth that all of her insecurities, her misgivings and her doubts would come pouring out. That and the tears. The elevator jolted to a stop, the doors sliding open slowly. Spike took Buffy’s hand in his as they strode into the parking garage below Wolfram and Hart. Buffy was the first to break the silence.

“Did you actually like this place?” she asked. Spike didn’t respond immediately and Buffy turned to study him. His eyes had taken on a far-off look and her heart constricted in her chest as she waited for him to speak.

“Kinda grew on me, yeah. Why?” Buffy shook her head.

“I don’t know. It seemed to me that you had this whole thing going on while you were here. You had guys. I mean, doesn’t that say something?” Spike shrugged nonchalantly.

“The only reason I came to be at this place was because of the soddin’ amulet. If not for that…” Spike stopped short and bit his lip. Buffy came to a stop and tugged Spike’s hand to halt his steps.

“I’m not angry at you. Not anymore. I understand why you had to keep your secret. It makes finding you so much sweeter, ya know?” Spike glanced at the floor, shuffling his feet.

“I know that, love. I just wish we’d found each other sooner…wish we had more time to…” Buffy silenced Spike with a finger pressed to his lips as she searched his eyes with her own.

“No regrets Spike. We’re here…now. Yeah apocalypse,” she shrugged, “but we’ve been through worse. Together, I kinda think we’re pretty strong. So don’t get soft on me now, ok? You’re still the strongest fighter that I know. Angel be damned,” she finished with a tiny smile and a twinkle in her eye.

Spike pulled Buffy to his body forcibly, causing a tiny gasp to emit from her lips as he stared down at her with cocky assurance, a wicked grin turning up the corners of his mouth.

“Mmm…” he groaned, leaning forward to capture Buffy’s mouth. “Love it when you talk dirty pet, gets me all randy.”

Buffy giggled and pressed a hand to Spike’s chest, shoving him playfully.

“You’re just saying that,” she murmured as his lips claimed hers again.

The kiss was brief and soon they were pulling away from one another. Hand in hand they strode to a car parked in the last stall of the garage. Spike opened the passenger door for Buffy and then walked around the car and entered the driver’s side. Buffy glanced at Spike as he fired the engine. He caught her stare and lifted a brow at her in question.

“I just wish Giles had been able to come through with some kind of information about how to stop the Senior partners,” she said with a shake of her head. “I hate going into this all blind-like.” Spike put the car in drive and slowly pulled away from the parking stall, heading toward the exit ramp.

“If it was important he would have called,” Spike answered, pulling out onto the streets of downtown Los Angeles. “Didn’t your fancy boy call with any new information?” Buffy wrinkled her nose in distaste, reaching over to shove Spike’s shoulder playfully.

“Stop calling him that. His name’s Diego and he’s my friend. So keep your pithy comments to yourself.” Spike shrugged.

“Merely saying.”

Buffy sighed and leaned back in her seat.

“I haven’t heard from Diego all day. You think he would have called with something. There has to be a way that we can beat this…you know…without getting all dead.” Spike murmured in agreement and then glanced Buffy’s way. She closed her eyes when his palm grazed the side of her cheek in a loving caress.

“None of that worryin love,” he said seriously as her eyes slid to meet his. “We’re gonna beat this. Angelus might be a poofter, but he’s got the one thing that’s always made him more powerful.”

Buffy’s eyebrows lifted in question and a little surprise. Was that Spike talking about Angel with just a hint of pride? It was almost too unbelievable to be real.

“What does he have, Spike?” she asked, erring on the side of caution with her tone.

Spike turned his glance back to the road, an arrogant smile creeping over his features.

“He’s got friends. Someone’s always got his back. Either it’s you or me, or Watcher boy, or Charlie. That’s his secret.”

Buffy only nodded. Spike had a point. He knew what he was talking about. Slowly, his hand slid across the seat and found Buffy’s. They laced their fingers together and shared a poignant look.

And in that moment, she felt a surge of confidence, a gentle sense of knowing. Spike squeezed her hand gently and the feeling intensified. She believed now, all doubt had been washed away, replaced by reassurance. They were going to make it.

The odds were heavily against them, and the tasks they had been assigned damn near impossible, but they had faced adversity before and had lived to see the other side. In that moment, it all connected. The hammer hit. Reality sank in.

Yes, they were going to make it.


In the instant that you love someone,
In the second that the hammer hits.
Reality runs up your spine,
And the pieces finally fit.
And all I ever needed was the one,
Like freedom feels where wild horses run.
When stars collide like you and I,
No shadows block the sun.
You’re all I ever needed,
Ooh baby, you’re the one…



**


End of Chapter Eight

to be continued with chapter nine: the beautiful side of somewhere
A/N: Chapter Eight title taken from Elton John: The One
 

Chapter Nine

The Beautiful Side of Somewhere


**


I am ready to wake up
There in the exodus,
On the beautiful side of somewhere.
I am ready to come down
To see us both somehow,
On the beautiful side of somewhere…


…


Buffy opened her eyes, pain seeming to shoot from every muscle, every fiber of her body. There wasn’t a single spot on her that wasn’t covered in mud, blood, and sweat. She tried to move, but found that she was weak. She breathed shakily; feeling like something had come loose inside of her.

Her first thought was of Spike. She turned her head slowly, blinked several times to clear her cloudy vision. Everything was a blur, hard to define. A reddish orange glow pierced her peripheral vision, seemed to dance at the corners of her eyes.

Fire.

Everywhere.

The acrid smell of burning flesh assailed her, clung to the back of her throat, made it feel as if she had swallowed hot coals.

Spike…her mind whispered.

She struggled to a sitting position, a sudden shaft of pain from her middle causing her to cry out. Dazedly, she lifted her fingers to her eyes, tried to rub away the grit, to clear her vision. She blinked rapidly, moisture sliding down her cheeks as her eyes watered. Her field of vision became clearer, sharper, as her gaze traveled slowly around the area, taking in everything.

The devastation was horrific.

Angel hadn’t been kidding about the fire and destruction, because it had rained down hard, like nothing she had ever seen before. Wrath hadn’t even come close to defining what had taken place in the alley just north of the Hyperion hotel.

Armageddon.

That was the only word that Buffy could think to describe what had happened. And now her mind raced with fear, her limbs trembled terrifically from fright and confusion.

Where the hell was Spike?

Using one hand to steady herself, Buffy got to her feet and shuddered as a wave of nausea and vertigo assailed her. She gritted her teeth and waited for the feeling to subside. Memories, mere fragments of what had occurred, rippled through her mind. It was almost too unbelievable to be real.

There had been an apocalypse.

And it was hard to tell who stood on the winning side of it. Buffy dared to believe that good had prevailed. A glance at the sky confirmed the niggling notion at the back of her mind. The sky was clear, free from clouds…perfect and serene with the stars blinking above, as if nothing on heaven or earth had been disturbed in the wake of the hell that had rained down just hours before.

And she still couldn’t see Spike.

As she began to walk, her eyes surveyed the damage. Broken bodies and debris littered every inch of space as far as the eye could see. Fires were burning out of control in parked cars, through the shattered windows of the abandoned building that surrounded the alleyway, and in some cases, from the bodies of the dead.

Buffy took it all in, but her mind couldn’t seem to register the destruction, the chaos. She stumbled over something and looked down, taking a step back with a gasp. It was a demon, its features twisted and grotesque, its head nearly separated from its neck, seemingly hanging on by shreds of tissue and skin.

Covering her mouth, Buffy took another step back. Suddenly, she turned, sinking to all fours as she gagged horrifically onto the street.

And then her body was shaking, trembling like a leaf in the wind as she began to sob. Slowly, she dragged a hand over her mouth, the metallic taste of blood and vomit mingling in her mouth. She spat twice and then got to her feet. Frowning, she continued to walk, not daring to abandon the search.

“Spike!” she shouted, amazed at how gravelly and raw the sound of her voice was, as if she had swallowed broken glass. “Spike! Where are you?”

She continued along the street, stepping over bodies, checking each and every one. Buffy couldn’t remember much of what had happened, everything a blur in her mind. There were fleeting moments, bits and pieces, and she struggled to capture the fragments. She recalled gathering with Angel, Spike, Gunn and Illyria in the alley, as they prepared to fight.

The demons, the monsters and the horrors of everyone’s worst nightmares had gathered in a throng a block or so away, and as the numbers had increased, so had the terror. Buffy had glanced to Angel, whose features had set in determination, as he’d raised the sword in his hand. She’d followed his gaze as it had traveled skyward…

Dragon.

The massive army of demons then sprang into action, as all manner of hell caused the sky to open, fire cascading down like rain all around them. Buffy had opened her stance, readied her fists for hand to hand combat. Spike hadn’t batted an eyelash, breaking into a run, throwing himself into the rush of demons that surged forward like angry waves breaking on the sea.

And then chaos. Confusion.

The battle had only begun to rage, and it seemed like Team Angel was going to go down, the odds heavily against them…the monsters gaining the upper hand. That is, until fate had stepped in.

Or, what Buffy found herself most commonly referring to as divine intervention. It had come. And she had power. More power than Wolfram and Hart, more power than the Senior partners or the Black Thorn had thought to imagine.

Willow Rosenberg. Wicca extraordinaire.

And she’d brought an army.

The last thing Buffy could remember was Willow…as she descended from seemingly out of nowhere, commanding the alleyway as if it was her kingdom and she was the queen. And then the slayers, hundreds of them, gathering around the witch, steely eyed resolve flowing collectively from the lot of them.

And then darkness.

A veil had dropped over the moon itself as the earth beneath Buffy’s feet began to tremble. From the corner of her eye, she saw Gunn as he was eviscerated at the hands of a demon warrior…saw Illyria as she stepped behind the demon and twisted its head clean off.

Glancing back at Willow, Buffy saw her friend wink, her chin lift with confidence as her arms stretched out in front of her.

A flash of light…and energy, as it surged and rushed all around, bending and pushing…gaining strength and speed.

The initial blast had sent Buffy hurtling through the air, slamming into pavement, the air rushing from her body as the sounds of bones crushing had assailed her senses. The second blast had caused her to black out.

But, in those waning moments clinging to consciousness, Buffy had rolled to her side, eyes connecting with Spike. He had fallen as well, his body lying in a crumpled heap, so still. He wasn’t ashes, so he was still alive. But, there was blood leaking from an angry gash on the side of his head, and he remained motionless.

Buffy had breathed a sigh of relief, weakly tried to call his name and then succumbed to unconsciousness, his name the last word on her lips as it whispered from her mouth.

And now she was awake.

The battle was over.

But, Willow and the slayers were nowhere to be found.

And, Spike was missing too.

The alley seemed to be endless, bodies scattered everywhere, debris choking every spare inch of space. Most of the bodies were demons, and it appeared as if human casualty had been limited, and for that Buffy was relieved. Now, if she could only find Spike…assure that he had made it out alive.

Sounds from ahead caused Buffy’s senses to heighten. Voices. Human voices. She peered ahead, narrowed her eyes to find the source of the sound. Her feet began to move, slow at first, and then faster as she broke into a run, tears racing unchecked down her cheeks.

“I’m coming, Spike! Stay where you are! I’m coming!”


**


A makeshift triage had been set up in the abandoned building at the mouth of the alleyway. The sound of the voices had brought Buffy inside and now she was trudging along the cracked concrete floor where bodies of the injured were laid out.

There were young Slayers milling about, tending to the wounded, and assessing damage. Buffy’s mouth dropped open at the sight of Faith, handing out supplies and giving orders to a small group of charges. Buffy found herself hurrying over, desperation and fear shadowing every step she took.

The brunette Slayer whirled around, eyes narrowed, until she recognized Buffy. Calloused indifference morphed into ecstatic relief as Faith closed the distance between them and threw herself into Buffy’s arms.

Momentarily taken aback, Buffy caught her former rival, encircled her in an embrace and strangely, found comfort there. Faith then cleared her throat, stepped away from Buffy and ran a hand over her hair, slipping back into the persona she was known for.

“Hey B,” Faith drawled slowly with a curt nod. “Glad to see you came out alright. Knew deep down you’d pull through. Kind of gave Red a scare there,” she finished tipping her head toward Willow who stood off to the side, talking on a cell phone.

As much as Buffy would have liked to revel in the sheer confusion of Faith’s momentary slip into unfettered girlishness, she had other pressing things on her mind.

“Spike?” she asked shakily. Faith frowned, tipped her head to the side in confusion and then slowly shook her head.

“Sorry B, haven’t seen him. Thought he might’ve been with you.” Buffy’s body sagged visibly as she wrapped her arms around her middle.

“No, he’s not with me,” she whispered dazedly. “He’s not with me.”

The room began to tilt, and Buffy feared that she would faint as tidal waves of nausea and dizziness washed over her. Faith stepped to her side immediately, putting an arm around Buffy’s shoulders.

She gave her a cursory glance, inspecting for wounds or injuries. Buffy followed her gaze. A bright spot of blood caught her eye. It stained the material of the blouse Buffy was wearing, and suddenly she wavered.

“You’re hurt. C’mon, I’ll take you to Willow. You need to rest,” Faith said softly, as they began to walk.

“Spike,” Buffy mumbled sleepily as her eyes began to flutter closed. She was tired, so tired. But, she couldn’t abandon Spike, she had to find him. Buffy struggled to maintain consciousness, and wavered unsteadily once again. “Gotta find Spike.”

“Someone will look for him, B. You need rest. You’re hurt. Badly.”

Buffy turned her eyes to Faith, tears building as a lump rose in her throat.

“You need to find him,” she whispered brokenly. “Please.”

And then she slumped into Faith’s shoulder, as she passed out.


**


Buffy slipped in and out of consciousness. Hours, minutes, days could have passed and she wouldn’t have been able to distinguish or pinpoint a single thing happening around her. She had the vague sensation of being moved, could hear voices muddled and unintelligible talking around her, above her, but nothing seemed to have a congruous meaning. She seemed to be floating in a foggy daze, affecting nothing, feeling nothing.

And she dreamed. Often. About Spike. His desperate cries flooded her mind. He begged her to find him, railed her for giving up, and danced around the periphery of her subconscious…haunting her…reminding her.

Buffy cried out in her dreams, she screamed. But something was holding her down, the insistent pressure of heaviness and weightlessness, as if she were restrained by some unmovable force, but free to move about just the same. It was terrifying, confusing. She was alone, cold…yet warm and enveloped in an embrace that she couldn’t readily define.

And then…silence.

Light.

Sound.

Movement.

Voices…

In the distance, she could hear machines whirring and beeping, could feel the slight painful tug of a needle as it dug into the skin of her right hand. Buffy tried to open her eyes, but was having difficulty, as it seemed that something heavy was sitting directly over her lids.

She swallowed and grimaced. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, her mouth dry, as if someone had shoved a wad of cotton into it. She tried to speak, but found that her voice was thin and soundless.

What the hell was happening?

Buffy blinked rapidly, tried to clear her vision…disturbed by the images that swam before her eyes. They were undefined, blurry, yet Buffy was able to make them out…almost. Three people were huddled around her bed. She could hear them talking softly, whispering. She heard her name, heard weeping. Someone grabbed her hand, urged her with insistent words to wake up. Buffy opened her mouth, said the first word that popped into her brain.

“Spike,” she whispered roughly. “Spike…Spike…”

And then she blacked out again as the warmth settled over her body, carried her away into dreams and muddled delusions…into something that closely resembled sleep. Again, vague sensations of being moved somewhere assaulted Buffy, but there was nothing she could to do to stop whatever was happening. She was weakened, powerless…helpless.

But alive.


**


When she woke again, she didn’t know where she was. Sounds filtered into her brain, but she had trouble sorting through the confusion of her muddled mind. She could hear voices, the whirring of machines and the gentle touch of a hand to her shoulder. Opening her eyes, Buffy came face to face with Giles, who looked down at her tenderly.

“Giles?” Buffy whispered.

“I’m here,” he responded with urgency. “Lie still, now. I’m going to get a doctor.”

Buffy could only nod helplessly as Giles slipped from the room and disappeared. She turned her head toward the window, wincing as the light stung her eyes painfully. She had no idea where she was, what day it was. She marveled a little at the fact that she was even alive. Buffy could feel pain, but it seemed to be faint, on the periphery of her body.

Glancing to her right hand, she lifted it to her eyes, studied the needle protruding into the skin. Her eyes followed the tube and rested on the bag of clear liquid it was attached to. Narrowing her eyes, she read the tiny words imprinted on the bag. Morphine. Well, that explained a lot. But, did it explain the guilt, the pain, and the dreams?

And where in the hell was she?

A sound from the doorway of the room jarred Buffy from her reverie, her eyes swinging to the source of the commotion. Giles had entered the room with a doctor. Buffy sighed and waited.


**


The examination didn’t take long and it was decided that Buffy would recover fully. From what, she had no idea. She turned questioning eyes to Giles, who patted her arm and told her he would explain everything. Apparently, she had suffered a severe laceration to her stomach, which had caused her to lose a lot of blood.

Complicated with internal bleeding, the situation had turned dire and Buffy had been air-lifted to a hospital in London, where she’d been rushed into emergency surgery to repair her damaged organs. Buffy took Giles’ words in silently, and then turned her eyes to him sadly.

“Spike?” she asked hopefully. With bated breath, she waited as Giles hesitated, removed his glasses and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. We haven’t received any word on Spike, I’m afraid. The reports from Los Angeles are coming in very slowly; we haven’t had time to process the data fully.” Buffy bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut as a sharp stab of pain pierced her chest.

God Spike…

“I will tell you that the search continues. No one has been quite ready to give it up,” Giles pressed softly, settling himself on the edge of Buffy’s bed and reaching for her hand. He gazed into her eyes pensively. “No one will give up. Willow has seen to that.”

“And what about you?” Buffy asked hesitantly. Giles sighed, placed his glasses back onto his face and fingered the folds of the blanket covering the bed.

“For your sake, I hold out hope that Spike is alive.”

“My sake?” Buffy questioned, her voice rising slightly. Giles looked up and met her eyes.

“What I mean is…I believe your health and well-being are dependent upon whether or not Spike’s whereabouts are secured…” Giles began and Buffy shook her head, holding her hand up.

“English, Giles. Lay it out for me,” she insisted.

Giles got to his feet, and thrust his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not really sure of what you want me to say, Buffy. As you know I have my reservations regarding Spike.”

“I know,” Buffy stated, tight-lipped.

“I don’t want to argue about it, though. The time for that has come and gone.”

Buffy nodded in agreement, avoiding Giles’ eyes.

“Do you love him, Buffy?” He asked after a moment of silence had lapsed between them.

“I do, Giles,” she replied softly.

Giles nodded.

“Right. And if I have learned something from all of this, it’s that your love for Spike is what matters. Nothing I say or do can change your mind…and you know I’ve tried,” Giles admitted with defeat, once again taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Yes,” was all Buffy could manage to say.

Giles reached for Buffy’s hand as she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“I do pray that Spike is found. I hold no ill will against him. I only want you to be happy and it is obvious to me that you haven’t been. Am I right?”

“That’s right,” Buffy replied. “Spike makes me happy. It took me too damn long to figure it out. I’m not about to lose that now. Not after--” she stopped short as her voice broke.

“I understand, Buffy,” Giles said with a tiny smile. “You have every right to happiness. I believe it’s deserved.”

Giles sighed resignedly, getting to his feet once more. He tucked the blanket around Buffy’s shoulders and gave her a tender smile.

“Someone will contact you the moment he is found,” he said softly, patting her shoulder. “Rest assured, he will be found. Willow and Faith have been overseeing the search. No stone has been left unturned.”

Giles shot her one last smile and then prepared to leave the room. Buffy could feel her love for him pouring into her heart, innervating her soul.

“Giles?”

He turned at the plaintive sound of Buffy’s voice, lifting his brows.

“Thank you,” Buffy acquiesced with a small smile. “For everything.”

“You are quite welcome,” Giles acknowledged softly. He nodded in her direction. “You must rest, regain your strength. I will return after I speak with the doctor.”

“Alright,” Buffy replied with a nod, settling her head back against the pillows. Giles left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling above as she contemplated her thoughts. She hoped that Giles had been right.

Spike couldn’t be gone. He had to be somewhere, because deep inside of her she could feel that he was alive. It wasn’t something that she could explain; it was just a gentle sense of knowing. The bond that she and Spike shared was strong, unbreakable. Buffy would feel it deep in her soul if Spike were gone.

She would feel it.

And she would know.

Spike had to be alive.

He had to be.


**


Illyria surveyed the damaged city of Los Angeles from the rooftop of an office building that had managed to escape destruction. From her vantage point, she could see the rubble of what remained of Wolfram and Hart. Something inside of her constricted as she took in everything and she realized it was her heart.

She thought of Wesley, she thought of the grief she was feeling.

Grief. She actually grieved for the human…humans were nothing…they were inconsequential…meaningless. So, she did not understand her grief, did not understand her pain. The Old One knew that the violence caused the pain to subside, if not momentarily. Ripping the throats out of demons had helped to assuage her pain.

But, it was not enough.

It was never enough.

Now, Illyria felt the pain of everything, as if time spent inside of the shell she inhabited had caused something to change within her. Illyria did not withstand change, merely tolerated it. She had been tolerating too much.

The urge to do more violence surged within her.

There were more deaths to avenge. Survivors to find. Illyria did not understand her need to help the humans. Why did she care? Wesley…he would have wanted her to assist.

She would do as Wesley wished. She would fulfill his dying proclamations.

She sensed movement at her side and turned to assess the source of the footsteps as they neared where she was standing. With silent disinterest, she raked her cold blue stare over the man at her side, lips curling up in disdain.

“Immortal. You dare to approach me?”

Diego cast a fearful glance in the direction of the Old One.

“I come humbly, goddess. If only to plead for one life out of many.”

Illyria turned her eyes back to the Los Angeles skyline.

“You wish to find the vampire,” she stated evenly.

“Yes,” Diego nodded, daring to take a step closer. “Boffy…”

“Silence,” Illyria lifted a hand and Diego’s mouth closed abruptly. “I have decided to grant your request. We will search for the vampire. I found him to be a worthy opponent and therefore deserving of my assistance.”

Diego couldn’t help the excited cry of joy that emitted from his lips as Illyria prepared to leave the roof of the office building.

“You will not be sorry, Old One,” Diego assured with excitement. Illyria turned to the Italian and gave him a long stare.

“We will find the vampire, Immortal. Consider my debt to you repaid,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Diego nodded.

“Done,” he replied.


**


End of Chapter Nine

to be continued with chapter ten: the space between

A/N: Chapter title taken from the Wallflowers: ’Beautiful Side of Somewhere’.

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