Copenhagen 2023

December 15 had just clicked over from p.m. to a.m. when he felt the tug. It felt like a little tug just a little twist of flesh on his arm. His forearm.

He felt a tug and thought of Buffy, but he so often did that he didn’t think much of thinking of her.

Another tug. More insistent this time.

And of course it was the time of year. This with Christmas coming and her and snow and lights and why the hell had he stayed in Copenhagen for the season but he already knew why--so he could twist the knife in his heart, so he could twist his heart around his love, his last love that would have to last him rest of his unlife. He had chosen a city, an old city that would do the season up proper, up royal.

“Skaal!”

He toasted and slammed back a flaming brandy.

Live dangerously.

He was hit so hard he fell off his bar stool.

Buffy.

“Buffy.”

He righted himself, stood, a little shaky and called the barkeep.

“Café…”

He didn’t drink much these days--had to stay alert, on the ball--there were people, Slayers that depended on him--but as a special treat to himself he had spent the last week trying so hard to stay drunk and now he couldn’t get sober fast enough.

He thought hard. A week maybe less. He could be back in Sunnydale in a week.

Something terrible must be happening to her or Dawn for her to call him for help.

She must be desperate.

One week…maybe, maybe three days…

*

She woke with a start sitting ramrod up right in bed clutching a pillow, her hands like claws. She was sweating. She had stifled a scream which was good no need to freak out Angel and Dawn--she needed her sleep especially after…

She looked at the pillow, in her dream it had been Spikes arms. In her dream she had clutched him and begged him, begged him in words she never, never would have used during awake time: “…come back, please come back…help me…I need you…I can’t do this by myself, I would never ask but they wanna hurt me, they don’t know what they’re doing--it feels like rape, Spike …please come now you’ve been away long enough…don’t punish me… ”

And words like that--in her dream he had seemed distracted and kept turning away indifferent as she pleaded until she had grabbed both his arms in a death grip and made him look at her.

She never would have asked him, or ever considered it really, but oh, Freud would have loved this EH? Running to the one who had saved her when she had been so close to the end. The Slayer in the subconscious sensing the current to come had called out like a good general for reinforcements with or without Buffy’s consent. She hadn’t wanted to bring him in to this--nobody wanted him here and it would only hurt him terribly in the end but the Super power of the subconscious coupled with slayer power called out to cash in the old promise.

She wasn’t sure if it was smart or not--or if he would bring more trouble than solve but it was over, it was done--the mail had slipped out and she knew in her heart.

Spike was coming.

Spike was coming. She would see Spike again.

Not cryptic notes, or secret gifts to each other or the sidelong glance in the crowd accidentally meeting after years of separation. She had to admit most of the reason she went to the L.A. art gallery openings wasn’t always to support Dawn--maybe, maybe she would see him. What would he be wearing? Terrible these small thoughts. Small bits of color had come into his life since his exit from hers. What did that mean? She had always been looking for evidence that she was there still alive in him. Still there. And once or twice it occurred to her that she was doing to Spike what Angel had done to her for most of her life--(I’M HERE DON’T TOUCH)--but couldn’t stop. She would see him from across the room laughing with Dawn--they had stayed quite friends--get the inevitable eye contact, feel the magnetic pull that is Buffy/Spikism, feel the life line of undying devotion travel from him to her. It was the moment before he could stop himself, he would lift his head the way you do when someone is looking for you, turn without thinking and there in his eyes always, always the naked look of hunger and love before he could check it, shield it and turn away.

And Buffy would think…oh my god…if only…in another world…in another life…it would be him.

And now she would see him, he would come, he would overcome his bitterness, and pain and come sit beside her and they could look at each other without running away in the eyes and touch…she decided to dye her hair back to brown. It was time, Spike was coming.

She lay back down on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and gradually felt her self…relax and this her last thought before the fall

fall, prat fall back to sleep.

Funny. Funny the slayer had called on the expatriate vampire.

And not the local one.

It was almost slip on a banana peel funny.

*

She had stayed at the house. All these years gone by and she had stayed on Revello. Some part of him always wondered maybe hoped that had she stayed so he would always be able to find her but he knew that was a kind a vanity.

Or maybe it was vanity, only it was hers as he considered Buffy’s attachment to him--the security of always being loved and worshipped by him, her knight from the dark ages with her kerchief on his lance. It must be tempting insurance indeed for a lonely woman.

And the small moments between them over the years would be enough to recharge their spirits, like hooking up to a vital power source--but never enough to make her leave.

Once she had kissed him. It was in 2011 and Dawn had made her first big sale and the whole room had been buzzing with alcoholized blood--and she had kissed him. They hadn’t even spoken a word that evening--since she had chosen Angel in 2003--they had barely talked but she had followed him outside when he took his smoke and she had just walked up to him and kissed him and he still remembered her roaring hunger as she pulled his tongue into her mouth It was fast--she had let him cup his hands under her ass and lift her up on to him--so she could feel him--he remembered her groan as she ground her female entrance toward him--and they would have taken each other--they would have, right there on the terrace sheltered only by a few bushes save for the hot searching stream of headlights from a car pulling up the drive.

They had been slightly obscured from the main door but as the light cut through the bushes--it had felt like the searchlight pinning the escaping prisoners of war against the wall. They had frozen until the arc of the light moved away and then she had broken from him and ran back to the stalag.

She ran back…and he went over the wall and escaped. Figuratively. (p.s.--he thought he heard her rip her dress.)

She was insane.

Crazier than Dru could ever have aspired to.

He loved crazy women.

Buffy would stay a POW for the rest of her life; a nun in her habitat safe in her celibacy, safe from the dangerous and messy details of real life love.

She would have come with him that night, it was more than the sex, he had felt it, they were going to escape but she would not come away with him. She broke when the cops came. Under the hot searchlight of--.

Authority.

Father figures.

She always had to remain within spitting distance of her Angel. Oh yeah, he had kept tabs on him as well--ever since he came back from hell no worse for the wear. And as much as Spike had mercifully been granted a quieter spirit in his demon, it was still there and he had wanted to rip Angel’s throat out. Even, now, he had to pause and do a little pretend deep breathing to calm, calm…

And it wasn’t just jealousy, it truly wasn’t--it was Angel’s twisted possessiveness in reverse. Sheltered selfishness under the guise of the philanthropist. After he had come back from hell--which happened, so it seems, when Spike and Buffy had been in Denver THAT Christmas and according to Buffy, when Angel had left her the second time and this time of his own free will choice no less--he had insisted Buffy lead ‘a normal life.’ Well…when Spike’s love and need for Buffy had softened the demon enough to keep the violence under control--he had re-entered the picture and then the definition wasn’t ‘normal’ anymore, then it became: ‘The Life Angel Wanted For Buffy’.

Just that. Which really meant, if I can’t have her, no one will.

Always, control, control.

When Angel had discovered Buffy loved Spike--he, Spike, formerly the most despised of creatures--and Spike knew Buffy loved him, he knew it--when the scales had fallen from Angel’s eyes on that score--well, then it was…veiled promises...the dangled carrot to Buffy--maybe this year he would Shanshu…maybe this year…and Buffy…Buffy, truth to be told, went with it. She went with it. She kept Angel in her life…and she had to put Spike out.

Spike made her decide. He knew she loved them both and unlike Angel he wasn’t going to wait on the sidelines, he wanted sex, and love and spitting and crying and fighting the whole works. And he wanted to experience this with Buffy. Their quick minds, ability to love passionately--their loyal and intense sexual natures had been screaming out to each other.

So he had gotten his demon under control or rather it had ‘agreed’ and called itself for a transfiguration, and he stopped killing people, and he had come back only to find Angel had crawled up out of hell only to bring it here to Earth. He tracked his footprints of doomed soul mate love like a ring a ‘rosie ‘round Buffy that somehow resonated with her. Angel and Buffy had a connection. It was true. They had a connection Buffy didn’t want to break and Buffy could not stand the thought of hurting Angel with continuing a sexual relationship with Spike. So. She chose

She was a fool, he knew it, but a person makes decisions sometimes from some secret inexplicable place that can never be observed from another. And he had respected that. Wasn’t he himself ‘Spike the Obscure’?

And so in 2003, he had left. Again. Oh god, but at least he hadn’t made the decision for her--no, he didn’t make it easy on her, oh no--he had thrown pride completely aside and begged her on his knees to be with him completely. He had made her say… ‘no’ Tears streaming down her face--he had made her say it from the very center of her soul and to his face.

But it had to be done. Too many men had made decisions without consulting her, for her, or just walked away as a simple solution next to confrontation, and he would not do that. And she had to know for herself that she was not the victim of someone else's mood or ego or pride, and had to say out loud to the world what she wanted.

You act like a victim and you’ll be a victim. Her line of work was much too dangerous for her to be playing pin the tail on the Buffed one.

And he knew his leaving her wasn’t what: ‘she wanted.’

He knew that.

But she would never be able to get completely what she wanted…

Who did? Besides her life wasn’t built that way--it was obvious.

True love schmu love. Live a little and find out the truth about that.

True love meant truly trying.

Not this sitting back and letting destiny do the details.

Fuck.

(…I’m gonna Shanshu…I really am…trust me Buffy just one more year…)

Maybe she could only get parts of what she wanted and in 2003; she had chosen the part that didn’t include Spike or their sex.

And so he had left. And outside the near escape kissy/groping incident in 2011-they hadn’t touched each other in over nineteen years.

So he had gone to Europe, he could speak fourteen different languages not to mention the dead ones or the demon ones and so it was a good place for him. There were very bad memories sure, so many triggers to old behavior patterns that he often felt like an addict facing the needle--but it was a cosmopolitan setting, open minds, lots of demon and human interaction and…opera…

As a human he had loved the opera. He had lost Buffy but thank god he had rediscovered opera.

It had saved his sanity.

It was the only medium large enough, intense enough outside punk rock and could rouse lethargy, soothe his aching heart with tales as broken as his own and love, love, love…he would always be about folly and the love.

He felt sane when he was at the opera--fine opera, not just any ole yodel throwers. It was a passionate intensity that existed there outside his body, outside his mind and had a separate life in the world and it made him feel…not as alone. Not quite so singular. It made him begin to suspect…that…maybe just maybe…there was…mercy.

It was during Madame Butterfly, Illyana Alaya singing Madame--that he felt the first blink of his soul, of William come back.

Poor blighter probably wanted to come down closer to the fire to roast his hair shirt on. William’s soul, that is the anchor of it--musta been tempted by the intense emotions torturing him ripping him in twain and all to a tune--and had to come down for a closer look. Spike had teased himself with that image in retrospect.

In the moment, the tiny slice of soul slipping in had been shocking, frightening, painful but eased, made into exquisite pleasure by Madame’s aria. She had sung him through it and Spike had held on to her promise of the nobility of heartfelt intention. Of genuine sacrifice that wasn’t, because it was freely given. What can be lost when you want to give?

So he had taken the first step in really, really sacrificing who he had been, his past…for the rest of his soul.

He confessed himself on the alter of opera. He would listen intently to the stories--love, betrayal, crime and punishment.

He would see himself in the characters, be so deeply drawn in, that he would loose his sense of self and find in the staging of these poetic scenarios the reality of cause and effect relationship.

I hit, you hurt, you hurt, you hit.

Of course this was something he knew--hell it was almost his motto. But the opera stories washed him soapy clean enough for him to be able to identify, to see, to want: Justice.

That what had been done to others should be done in turn to you, the perp.

(Spike the perp. Was that the soul twittering on?)

It was a law of nature.

Bounce a ball against a wall and it will bang back at your noggin.

Nothing personal, just physics.

And he was no exception. The life he was leading separated from his love…is what he had done to countless others.

Justice.

And murder: The great separator.

But this too, helped him feel…well, a little more sane--at least, and his little shock of a soul would point the way--there is a kind of…balance. Perhaps the world wasn’t complete chaos and he could work with that, he could, if there was a formula--while he waited for another soul deposit.

Some times, a little bit, a shard would come back unexpected like--once, when he watched a bird preen it’s feathers and then shake them all to it’s satisfaction, he had chuckled at the sight and then: bitty bing a bit of soul was scored.

So what did he know? He never could make it happen--it was ‘a happening baby’ in the best 60’s new theatre tradition all by itself.

And how about that? In the theatrical world intense feeling wasn’t punished, it was rewarded and here he would sit with sometimes 300 to 1,000 strangers most human, some not--who maybe, and sometimes just for the length of a held breath--felt the same way. It was comforting.

And maybe some of them just came for the gossip and glad rag slam dance.

So he had become a patron of the arts and the artists. He protected them from mobs, the Russian mob, Italian of course, the Mafia, of course--greatest export to the western world and sundry demonic influences. People in the limelight such as his were, always were a target for dark influence. Usually they were communicators and conductors of healing energy and light so of course there were those who would want to subvert, enslave through sex, drugs or witchcraft and it had become known that Spike the Obscure would champion an artist under siege. And not just the known ones either, there were many unknown but at the same time great artists that needed help. And of course the devil always went for the great ones.

So he had a life, he had some Slayer friends--since Buffy’s brilliant idea and Red and Giles pulling it off--there were slayers a plenty--he supposed he would always crave being close to Slayer energy.

So he had left his Buffy but he had never… ‘moved on’. Unlike the stories he used to watch on the T.V. He just couldn’t ‘move on’. Buffy occupied the last space in his heart. His Mother, Cecily, Dru and Buffy.

There are only four quadrants of the heart.

Only four and he had filled his.

And so he had come back to Sunnydale, of course he had come back. His love had called and he would have come back on his knees.

It must be something terrible for her to have called for him, to pull in the marker of that old promise.

Well, he would soon find out.

He knocked on the door of Revello Drive.

The door opened slowly and revealed: Giles.

It was Giles, and he said, in only the way he could, not a greeting or recognition, just that simple almost resigned statement...

“Spike.”

*

He was older now of course, of course that was it, Spike told himself but he would be then wouldn’t he? Over 65 by now, but still he looked much older than the last Spike had seen him in London only three years ago. Sometimes Spike the Obscure dealt with the New Council. Times were, their interests were mutual and they would work in tandem. That business about an Elfin Soul singer and Giles had been quite helpful and almost forthcoming. It was only back here, back in Sunnyhell when he turned cool to cold so he was surprised, quite surprised and a little scared by the Watches next words:

“I glad you’ve come…come in, come in…”

Spike’s stomach did a little roll--what the bloody hell was going on?

He followed the Watcher through to the Kitchen where he had been making a cup of tea. Without a word, Giles indicated a cup and Spike nodded. Giles prepared their tea in silence. Pushed one cup toward Spike, sat down on a high chair at the breakfast bar and indicated Spike should sit on the other side.

Giles began without preamble.

“It’s not that I don’t like you Spike…I don’t understand you--and not that I don’t like what I don’t understand, we both know that the contrary is true for me. I don’t understand you with…Buffy.” He said her name with a little difficulty.

Spike shifted his weight as if in preparation for a defensive action.

“But…she said you were coming…and here you are…and I must…I must… (He’s saying this as if he’s trying to convince himself…what the bloody hell…)

“Where’s Buffy?” Spike spoke, surprised at how even his voice sounded.

Giles continued as if he hadn’t asked.

“I must…respect…I must…I don’t think she’s…out of her mind…the way Ang--” Here he stopped himself, “The way the others do…”

What was he saying? Buffy bonkers?

“Rupert.” Spike spoke almost tenderly. Giles looked up and looked at him really for the first time.

“Ah. Spike.”

“Yeah it’s me an all. Rupert, take me to Buffy.”

*

She had done her hair the very day after her call to Spike. Got it done before they brought her here. She picked a soft ginger brown that most closely resembled the color of her child hood photos. That brown but with a hint of gold highlights. Couldn’t let it all go all at once could she?

Dawn had pretended to like it and Angel had drawn his brows together as if he were considering a puzzle. She supposed he would write it off to more ‘craziness.’ She loved Angel, she well and truly did. But it was Spike she needed now. If he would have her.

She was not being capricious. She could see now that she had been in a long process of shifting, leaning toward this change and through habit and more than a little fear had found ways to hold it at bay.

But she had had several slayer dreams since the phone call one, as she referred to it. And she knew now why she had called for Spike. Somehow the slayer dreams had given him the stamp of approval she had been waiting for from her secret self.

But he had a life now. Was it right to ask? Is this something that he would truly want for he, himself and not just to please her? Well, he was a big boy and they had been through a lot together and if he couldn’t make up his own mind, who could?

She studied herself in the mirror. “Oh for goodness sake…” She chided herself and put the mirror down. You could look like a scarecrow in a big blue checked fashion disaster of a dress and would barely notice. He loved her soul, he thought she was beautiful and wanted to be like her when he grew up. He had told her that…once…

She admitted to herself that she needed his love now and his strength…and she also needed his rebellious nature. But she had something for him too…if he would but accept.

She hoped Giles remembered to bring her energy drink with him when he came, Spike should be here any day now, he better come soon, very soon, especially while Willow was in L.A. on the mission. She had made them go--told them all, they were in fact driving her crazy for real if they didn’t give her some space. But she knew, she knew--intuition and dreams and overheard conversations that papers were being signed and even now her rights were being taken away. Diminished capacity..Pffft! I’d like to diminish their capacity. So she had convinced Angel to go, go find the specialist--

--Her thoughts were interrupted by Spike standing in the doorway of her hospital room.

He stood there ramrod straight. He regarded her there on the hospital bed, stood stiff with shock, fear and maybe more that a little anger.

Good. Good. Count on Spike to always go for the gold. She needed a fight. Wanted one. But the right kind.

She was going to fight for him.

She studied him, tears filling her eyes, she couldn’t help it--he was so beautiful. The same but…he looked different too…older maybe, wiser for sure and steady on his feet but he also, well …he…seemed brighter or something up close…can you grow a soul? Or maybe there was enough light in him now, so it seemed like a soul. He was so beautiful. He had always been so to her. But it was different now. Duster had been long gone from his wardrobe, but he still held to black and dark blues and….and once he had stopped her heart in purple…Spike.

Her tears made him move. Water was always such a strong force in nature. A four inch stream with a strong current could knock a man down, for Spike all it took was three tears. Three wee Buffy tears.

“Ah luv…luv…” His voice was muffled against her throat as he held her tight in his arms, she wrapped her thins arms around his waist and sighed.

“Ah luv…I’m so…” his voice broke “I’m so mad at you…I’m so angry…” he almost sobbed “I could spit.”

“Well…not on me…ruin my fancy dress gown…” She sobbed chuckled.

Her Spike she was holding her Spike. Ah god…it felt good. And he still loved her…she could feel it like a warm current moving through his flesh to greet hers. Maybe it would work. Maybe there was harmony and meaning in this miserable world after all. She smiled against his throat and moved her hand to his chest.

“Spike…”

“Buffy…”

She kissed his neck, the side of his face and peppered him with kisses until he seized her face with both hands to stop her and it was that kiss the Desoto goodbye car kiss all over again, they had kissed and been intimate in the intervening years but never had they gone near that kiss again. Part pain part pleasure--now submission. They both submitted to the intensity, to their complexity. Their life together had never, never been easy but it had been…theirs. She had loved Angel but she had never shared this part of herself with anyone else. Did Spike know that? Did he know how much she loved him?

One way to find out.

She had hurt him terribly, but once, albeit, long ago--he had lectured her on being proud of pain and lets see how well he has taken his own advice.

“Spike. Spike. “She spoke again until she had his full attention. “Spike help me…take me outa here…”

“Wait…a…wait a minute Buffy slow down a bit…we have to talk a bit…I’m very angry with you--“

“--I know, love…” She said.

His head snapped around at the endearment, he eyed her suspiciously.

God, what did it mean that a couple of kind words would freak him out? What had she done to him?

“Spike, I know you’re mad…you have a right to be…but you know me, unfortunately I figure things out sometimes as I go--hey you can relate to that.”

He didn’t smile.

“Spike please help me. Take me out of here. They wanna do exploratory surgery maybe or some experimental treatments or something but for what? This is my time, Spike…I can feel it…I don’t want my body carved up…”

He had listened quietly while she spoke waiting to hear something in her voice.

“Are you afraid luv? Of the surgery?”

“No.” Her answer was quiet but firm.

“Of life?”

A little longer pause and then: “No Spike. I love life. I love my life. But maybe there is a reason why Slayers only live to be about 25. We live lifetimes, accelerated growth, spiritual, emotional, the whole package. When you look at a 25 year old slayer you are really looking at a middle aged woman. And when you look at me…”

He did. Her smooth taunt skin--she was truly beautiful, she was, despite the illness or maybe because of it she was almost illuminated from within. As a very old person is at the end of their life. Glowing like a child. She was a 43 year old 110 year old.

“So what does that make you in dog’s years?” He asked

And her laugh was so complete and such a gift to him--that he could make her laugh, even now, especially now, that he almost smiled.

She had to speak his name. Spike would just have to take it on the chin.

“Angel is so afraid--he’s running all around looking for specialists and answers, never considering that I just might be dying of old age--“

“You don’t look old--“

“--as you once told me--don’t be obtuse. I had to look it up later you know.”

He had to smile at that, god, he loved this woman.

“And what makes you think I’m not scared or that I want you to die?”

“Shh…shh…I know it’s hard for you, maybe harder cuz we haven’t had the years in between...” (No need to go into all of it--just get him out to the beach house and tell him there) “I know you’d miss me…”

“MISS YOU! MISS YOU!” He bellowed, shocked, angered

She grabbed him in a fierce hug.

“Shh…shh…you’re not listening to me…Spike listen with your heart…not…just listen…”

She managed to slow him down, she noticed his roaring had brought Giles into the room--she nodded her head toward her Watcher indicating they were o.k. Giles remained unobserved by Spike in the corner of the room.

“How can you ask me to help you die Buffy Cuz thas it innnit? No drugs, no life saving treatment, I pull the plug take you outa here and you die--how can you possible ask me to do that? You think I don’t love you as much as…others...that I might be able to do that?”

“No…No…I think you respect my mind more that others and so you will do that.”

Silence. Oh god…oh…god…she was right…if she wanted out…well simply because she wanted it he--

“It feels kinda like rape Spike. It feels like they are gonna do things, private things to my body that I don’t want done. I’m claiming a kinda ‘lets just see what happens naturally’ and they think that I’m some kinda Christian Scientist healing a broken bone with prayer and no proper setting. Not that I knock them, matter of fact I’m beginning to see they’re point of view, but Dawn is getting an medical emergency sorta of dispensation and they are arguing diminished capacity.”

“Whas’ wrong Slayer?”

He had used the old moniker and Buffy relaxed, she was getting through to him.

“A door is opening for me…just a door to a great new adventure and I’ve been here and had this one for what feels like 100 years and so I wanna see what happens next.”

(No need to mention the other thing the real thing, the clincher until they got to the beach house.)

She waited. If she was going to get through, those were the only words she knew that would do it.

He stood up moved off the bed his face closed off from her. He stood and looked at her and she thought: he‘s gonna bail, when he said:

“Alright then, whattal' of this lot is coming with?” He indicated the tubes and fluids in plastic bags.

And she smiled. Buffy smiled.

“I love you Spike…and not just for this…you know that right?”

“Yeah…yeah I know lots…” He turned to look at the Giles. “So, you coming too mate?”

Giles cleared his throat (he thought: ‘soon, soon, a few more years’…) but said: “Not at present. Buffy will instruct you as to where to go. You will find everything you need there--“

“Giles did you bring my drink? “ Buffy was already trying to sit up, pulling the blankets on the bed back “--Spike there’s a dress hanging in the closet, I’ll just throw it over this old thing.”

While Spike went to the closet Giles drew out a small bottle of water--Spike drew away automatically from the hand holding the bottle.

“Crimmeny! What is that? Holy Water?” He looked at Buffy “On the hard stuff lamb?”

She looked almost sheepish but took the bottle and a swig. “Long and very, very uninteresting story--short run is this is the mysterious elixir that keeps me up and going and kicking butt almost right up until the ripe old age of forty three and damm proud of it Sunny Boy! Now get me my cane so I can gimpy out with dignity”

He almost laughed outloud then stopped himself.

“It’s o.k. to laugh you know--I intend to, and laughing by myself is a bit like masturbating and I’ve had enough of that in my life so--“

Now he did laugh. God in heaven how he loved this girl. (…what would he do without her? Even from the other side of the globe he had felt her, was linked to her--)

He was in his mind and always it would be: Buffy & Spike. Buffy & Spike

As she got herself ready Giles slipped him a phone, complete with directory, how to reach him.

“Please leave it on at all times…and then he added, said again: “Please. And Spike. Thank you for doing this--“

“--No. No. Don’t EVER thank me for doing this. Got it?”

Giles did. He nodded and then turned to the hallway. Shit. Voices. Harris. Spike would recognize that Whelp even with a 120 years in-between. He looked toward Buffy. She looked frightened. Fuck.

Giles spoke up as he moved.

“I’ll take him to the cafeteria--tell him Buffy’s sleeping--give me a few minutes--but you better move fast.”

Spike looked at Buffy, so small in her blue velvet dress and had a strange sensation of déjà vu. Brown hair and blue velvet…

“Your hair…” he touched a strand

“Yours too...” she nodded. He laughed, “Yeah…back in brown.”

“Well then that’s two of us.”

“Old times…”

“Best times…” She said it so sincerely he shook his head. Well maybe the world looks completely different from her point of view. He didn’t think Buffy would ever understand what it was she was asking him to do. Uh oh--time to move.

“Luv?”

In answer she took a couple of unsteady steps leaning heavily on his arm until he said:

“Bugger this pace--I’m gonna have some fun--“ And with that he slung her overnight bag over his shoulder and scooped her gently up in his arms and proceeded to carry her, as was his pleasure, out of… ‘there’

“Spike…” she offered the token resistance

“Shhh…shhh…dealers call pet…we’re playing high stakes now--kidnapping an al’ makes it my call.”

She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

“It feels like flying…Spike …” She murmured as he swept like silk down the hallways past openmouthed orderlies not daring to broach his stern face.

He whisper walked the smoothest vampire gait no bump in the road and all clear sailing from here on out for his girl.

She almost giggled.

“Flying…it feels like flying…” and she closed her eyes and buried her face against his neck to heighten the feeling of floating flying out into the black night into gods knows where and for god knows what.

*

She had chosen the dunes because well, because they had struck a chord with her when she had first seen these particular bluffs off the coast; these particular white swells of sand. She hadn’t made the connection at first, of course it took a couple of dreams of Spike walking across a glacier to realize, ah! These dunes look like glaciers, and glaciers meant snow and snow of course was Spike.

She had tried painting them, she had nothing at all close to her sister’s talent but she was competent and painted for fun, for therapy and to revisit what Spike meant to her incognito, in a sensual language she could hide behind. She always smiled when Angel admired her paintings, really genuinely liked them. She would smile and congratulate herself for bringing the two disparate vampires to a peaceful meeting place. Well…kinda…

It was almost midnight when they arrived. She could imagine the siren had gone off long before and was a little sad not to be behind to watch Giles do damage control. He would be in his element. All stiff and so Brit as if the very fact of being British and speaking English made what he said in that language to be oh so paramount to the situation at hand. She was smiling.

Spike always attuned felt her mood shift.

“What is it?”

“Giles. British. All knowing and upper crusty and just baby crab meat underneath. British. Humph!”

“Hey! Watch it.”

“Oh yeah…but sooo, so bad and tough--little island that dominated the world for what? Three centuries? Tiny little island with this big compensation complex--“

“HEY! Hey! WATCH IT!”

“Oh no…not you…I mean you…you’re all BIG and everything…”

“Is this? Are you flirting with me? Is this what passes for repartee in the colonies?”

They were bantering again. It was good. He was relaxing a little, letting himself enjoy himself--he may never forgive her for this but by gum she was gonna give him a good time. They would have fun. Even if it killed her. Well, gee, now that’s a phrase that doesn’t work prosaic magic anymore. Shoot. She’d have to watch stuff like that.

Instead she went on:

“Oh yeah crude and rude and you love it--you. YOU are an American--completely--don’t know how you can stand to live in Europe--“She cut off “Sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry about pet.”

“There isn’t…but there is…for the stuff that is…I am so sorry…”

He considered.

“I know you are. So am I. But you were true to yourself--so who could you really apologize to or for?”

She thought about it and then noticed. : “You’ll wanna take a left at the light. We’re almost there.”

He choked.

Oh god. He couldn’t do it…just couldn’t. He realized it all at once. As long as they were traveling or floating or flying it wasn’t ‘there’ it wasn’t real.

His hands started to tremble, he started crying just suddenly all at once, tears streaming--

“Oh bugger now I can’t see…” he was wiping his eyes. She handed him a tissue with a single command.

“Wipe.”

He refused her tissue and wiped his tears with the back of his hand.

“What? Real Vampires don’t use Kleenex?”

“Hell no--all dainty and dangerously close to prancing in green shoes with a kerchief in the garden among the poises--“

She laughed. He laughed--and cried and drove.

*

She had tried to figure out a way to bring it up. She would rehearse scenarios in her mind but they always seemed to end badly. She thought they might have at least a week together so she could work around and up to it but in the end it was the clock ticking that made her speak, the clock and the hounds on her trail. She knew Giles put a protection spell around them to cloak their whereabouts--Giles was good, very good and had connections to a powerful coven but Willow was better.

They had had two days. She could feel the doorway opening--the lightness in her body coupled with this feeling of almost being transparent, of being able to walk in different dimensions at the same time. She had seen her Mom twice. And Tara once or maybe once and she could have sworn she said…’you’re doing the right thing, buck up…be brave’…”

Which was kinda of odd words for her…but…good to know…

And to be fair to Spike, she needed to give him time to decide. He had to know what he was agreeing to.

Enough mental banter. Doesn’t get the job done. It was him, of course that brought it up.

“Something on your mind lamb?”

:”How’s the bunny count?”

He started and then laughed remembering.

“Down…way down…but you know that luv…you’ve had your spies on me an al”

She was indignant.

“I have not--“

He leaned forward to look at her. He looked at her, raising his scarred brow.

“Maybe. Little bitty peep holes.”

He harrumphed.

“You’re supposed to be flattered. Me wanting to know all about the doings of the sexy…” and here she spoke deliberately

…ex (?)…big bad…” She made it sound like a question.

What was she on about?

“You need somethink? More tea? Some soup? “

He was sitting behind her. Holding her as he been these past two days, they were never out side an arms length from each other.

“Do you miss it?”

He didn’t pretend not to know what she was asking.

He considered.

“Not like you probably are used to using the word. The draw is there, the feeling, that feeling of the smile behind hurting someone--I feel the pull--it’s always pretty strong, of how easy it is and strangely satisfying in a bloody raw way--just letting go--and it’s there, but like something I’ve left behind. There. But just don’t want to anymore. Doesn’t mean the pull is gone though. Or that I don’t slip in lots, and lots of small ways.”

“Would you like it to be gone? That pull?”

He said nothing and she turned in his arms to look at him. She stroked the side of his sweet, sweet face sweet but hard could be so hard, so mean…oh yes she remembered all the things he had been, but what did he want now?

“I’ve been reading up on it and some people, some criminals get so used to that pull…they don’t want to live without it. Anger is a source of…power I guess…”

“I’m still not following luv.”

She was feeling faint; lightheaded…she touched her hand to her forehead.

“Come with me Spike…”

He stared at her…well

“Where do you want to go?”

“Come with me when I go…”

Penny dropped.

She turned and pulled away from him far enough to look at him so he could see her face. To sense what she couldn’t say. She was no real great talker, not really.

“I’ve had a dream, well a couple and I know how it should be done…”

“Now you know it’s always boring as hell to tell somebody your dream pet--“

“Well drink some coffee and listen up. Here’s the deal. You…you’re a demon Spike…and you’re changing too but not fast enough to keep you out of hell, probably--but if you come with me when I go, if you become a part of me--well lets’ just say, I have connections and I can get you into heaven through a back door, but only if you come with me when I go…”

He was just staring at her like she had grown a second head.

“I want you to…I want to be in heaven with you….will you…”

His face was so hard.

“…will you…think about it?” Her voice got very small and shaky as she looked into his eyes that had suddenly turned so cold

He got up and walked away without a word.

*

Was she mad? Was Peaches right? Had she lost her mind? He couldn’t get away from her fast enough--had to think.

It was just dusk so he went out onto the porch and then that wasn’t far enough and so it was down to the beach--he was feeling, feeling…but couldn’t think…had to connect his feelings to something that made sense. Anger this deep meant something…something was missing from her words, from this picture. He had to connect what he felt…to his mind.

He needed the water, the hard crashing waves--he always thrived on the soundtrack in the story to guide what he was feeling to where he should be going--and the sound the music of the crashing waves--both rhythm and chaos..

Anger. Oh my…he was still angry…deep, deep down. For choosing Angel, for walking away from what they had, no amend that, have together…it was still all there, even now and more…

“Can you let go of being proud of your pain?”

She had followed him--had made it out flying high on holy water to ask him that.

“Isn’t that what you asked me…or something like it--now you know why I got so pissed. It hurts doesn’t it?” Trying to talk over the waves made it sound like she was shouting at him.

“When being all victimy has been just about the best role you ever played in your life? How in the world do you walk away from the roaring of that crowd loving you in your best part? Can’t you forget your pride and bounce back…just once more to be with me?”

His silent back as he stared at the dunes.

He walked away from the water and up the dunes a bit--she trailed slowly, struggling a little through the sand.

“An' is this the only way for us to be together? The only way you want me?”

He called it back to her.

She didn’t respond until she was up close and her breathing had calmed a bit.

“Well in answer to the first part of your question. Maybe. I’ve had some time to think about it and for some reason as much as I love you, my life on Earth seemed to be tied mostly to Angel. Which I know you think was crazy, and I can see it now cuz it was all about ‘arms length and pedestal rose colored eyeglasses love--but maybe it was that way, so I could focus on being the Slayer. I was The Slayer at a very tough time in the world--and maybe I needed love, but not the distraction that would come with it. Sex. Kids, marriage. When sex comes into it--well that’s a whole other basket of kittens isn’t it? Takes up a lot of time and attention so--let’s face it, when I was with you--in that way--it was all about you. I mean, I was obsessed with you--couldn’t have enough of being with you--and…I don’t know.”

Here, she stopped, looked around at the world THE WORLD. And then refocused continued.

“If I was running things…if it was my war campaign…and I saw one of my warriors loosing focus maybe…I’d split it up. Take away the distraction. It feels sometimes now that that is what life did to me. That this strange tie, karma or whatever to Angel was seeded. To keep me alone. And same goes for him, I think. Which made it feel all destined. But my feelings for you are all my own…no one makes me feel it--not destiny--it belongs to me…it makes me feel free--but it made at the same time, it made me feel…back then…off-track…like I had a job to do, and didn’t, shouldn’t be happy…at least not here on Earth. So maybe…maybe earth was for Angel but…I can’t even imagine heaven without you.”

There was a pause and then he started talking while his back was still turned.

“This has all been happening so fast and me head, in me head I have a millions and two questions and I don’t know why I love you so much. I don’t know if it is a weakness or strength but I do know that every road of me life has led up to you and I admit I’m still not…well… every footstep I take is toward you and even if you were to leave and me stay, I wouldn’t be long for this world. Not saying I’d do a daylight walk but something would happen--be a little too slow, a little too distracted, walk into a fray and not be all there because the inside of me mind wouldn’t be right. So every step I take is toward you and wherever you go and I admit it, you have me even from the other side of the planet and you know it--so you got me by the short hairs well enough. BUT. But if you think I’m gonna let you die earlier than you should because you’re just too tired to live or maybe so’s I can get a ticket to heaven then you just don’t know me at all do you? Pack up. I’m taking you back.”

“No. No you’re not.”

He turned to her, his face twisted in pain. Savage.

“Oh…oh…and who’s gonna stop me…Twiggy?”

“You. You wouldn’t make me go against my will, I know you wouldn’t.”

They stared at each other. The old game of back off, back up. Who wins?

Spike did not back down. For once he did not back down. Buffy a little stunned a little hurt said.

“Look at me Spike. I’m barely here. I keep seeing Mom and Tara and I think I saw Kendra once…it’s right there…I can feel it…and it’s doesn’t feel…wrong…”

“Well sure it doesn’t feel wrong…they wanna have you too. We got us an official little tug of war going on here…”

“But come with me…”

“WAIT.” Spike paused he wouldn’t back down but he to try find a new tack--his instinct was screaming at him and he couldn’t hear all the clues quite clearly yet.

“Sorry Buffy…just wait a minute? O.K.? You gotta trust me too and al’. Something about this feels…not wrong exactly but…underexplored.”

“Look at me Spike…I’m all shiny and almost all seethroughy. I can feel it inside too. I’m going Spike with or without you. My dreams just showed me a way for you to get into heaven…and be with me…it was all good…it felt…like a reward.

I’m done, my obligations are done, it’s only natural…it felt like good news and yeah, now I’d rather be in heaven with you than on earth with him.”

Oh god…oh god…

Spikes’ head snapped around. Something was starting to click, click, click…

Very softly he asked: “Why? I mean why not take Angel? All these years trying to be together an all? Why not him?”

“Well…he’s gonna Shanshu any day now.”

And then suddenly:

They both laughed, breaking the tension a bit but Buffy continued:

“No really, I’ll bet you anything, I’m holding him back, just me being this habit in his life--things will free up for him the next minute after I’m gone, and the shanshu--he really wants it…”

Spike still smiling shook his head.

Very cat that ate the canary (‘I think I’ve got it by George I think…’)

“Nah…try again…luv…”

She stopped, puzzled and then considered what was true that she hadn’t said yet….that would convince him.

“Well he was my childhood dream. As I grew up I clung to the love, it was familiar and fated which made it easy and then and with everything going on in my life who needs hard? And then later I clung to the love, and then it was the memory of the love and now maybe there isn’t room enough for me here on Earth to get what I what. To grow in the way I want.”

“Pet…so you need to run into the nearest heavenly dimension…to what? To get away from Angel?”

“No…well…I’m done here…”

“You’re only done here because you feel done here--had that carrot dangled so long in front of your face it’s dulled your ability to imagine anything other than that old dream. You said it yourself, I think…it is impossible, there has never been a proper solution for either of you and maybe you’re right about it being there, imprinted by fate to keep you on target, on the job--I think I actually buy that, but pet--you said it yourself. You’re done now.”

“Yes, I absolutely feel done--”

“--then retire.”

Stunned silence.

“You don’t need to die to retire…” here he chuckled “I mean you may feel the need to die to get away from the claim Angel has on you--but maybe…maybe you should just face it down--cut it off…that arrangement was for wartime, I get it, but even you feel it’s done now. Just because you’ve grown out of that obligation doesn’t make you wrong. Be brave and buck up!”

She sharpened her attention.

“What did you say?”

“When? It’s all extempore wit, don’t do rewind, pet--you gotta keep up with me to catch it all. Thas' it.

Thas’ it, pet: Keep up with me.” His grew increasingly excited. “Come match pace with me. You wanna be with me? Come be with me. The world just seems old to you cuz you’ve been stuck in this rabbit run for thirty years. On that poisonous bleeding hellhole. It’d tar and feather anybody…senseless…”

His voice trailed away as he felt a picture start to pull together.

“Dru.”

“What? What about her?” Buffy’s tone was gentle.

Spike looked at Buffy. He crossed to her and then studied her carefully. Lifted her arm and felt the weight and heft of her. Touched her chin with the tips of his fingers. His eyes began to tear slightly as a hope light struggled to ignite.

“Buffy…I think I may know what’s wrong with you…”

Buffy shook her head, puzzled.

:”No, you don’t get it Spike I don’t feel wrong…just old…”

He waved her off with a pish posh gesture.

“Yes, yes…Some of that just means you need a new habitat. Bored to death.” And the suddenly: “Buffy. Buffy! You need a new HABITAT.”

“Huh…”

“Buffy you look like Dru--that’s what’s been working inside me head--you look like she did before I brought her to the Hellmouth to get freshened up like.”

Buffy looked at him big hazel eyes wide.

“Maybe you’re right an it’s an aging thing and that’s part of it, and maybe Peaches was part right on his instinct that there was a solution, but he was looking in the wrong place…not medical, not magic, not a spell…it’s the HELLMOUTH…

Buffy…I feel it as sure as anything. Even when I just said that, I felt…like this shiver up me neck. I think I’m right. Luv…a creature of light and love such as yourself sitting on the Hellmouth for thirty odd years? Uh Yeah. Of course that’s gonna wear you out.”

He jumped, excited now.

“Thas it Buffy, I know, it’s like what with Dru but in REVERSE. We GOTTA get you off the Hellmouth…Bloody hell I’m taking you out of California out of the country. Come to Europe with me Buffy! You want heaven--I’ll show you heaven! You’ll have new things to see to stimulate your fuckin’ amazing mind and you have not lived, you cannot die--until you’ve heard Illyana Alaya sing Madame Butterfly…”

“Spike…” Buffy’s eyes were tearing up her throat constricting at his enthusiasm. “Spike…”

“NO. No…just listen some more…” He stopped turned to her now sly…”They got Holy water over there Buff…”

He watched her eyes light up.

“Yeah thas' right…” Smiling at the hook, he would get her there by dangling her drug of choice. “They got Holy water that’ll burn your warts off--so to speak. In a word: ‘Lourdes’. Yeah thas’ right. The Mother lode and all for my girl…”

Buffy had to smile, god, he was just so damn hopeful, so…cute…

“Buffy, your instincts were leading you in the right direction--what with finding Holy water--and I bet you’ve been snacking on holy wafers too…and if not--thas’ a thought. So you felt somewhere there was a solution and you found it, but were just too punch drunk by life falling flat all the time that you couldn’t lean enough to the left to see--.”

--“The Slayer called for you. That night, it was in my dream and she just pushed all my arguments aside and called for you so loud--“

“--It knocked me off my chair…Sweet one, the Slayer is about survival…”

He let it sink in.

Bit by bit his words swam and swayed and were quietly dislodging every firm decision and…and…then…hope…oh god…dare she hope?

He had been watched her face carefully and the relief that flooded his being knocked the wind out of him he had to sit. She did want to live--just needed a way, a way for her life to be better. He had to sit--what was she doing still standing? He patted the sand pile next to him, and held her arm as she sat next to him.

But.

Not out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.

“Buffy. There’s something else. I wanna go to heaven. Heard all the news bulletins, and I confess I’m dead curious, I want the ride--been to Hell, wouldn’t recommend it--so don’t get me wrong. I would want to go and with you…well enough said. But. But. I’d like to try to get there on me own steam. My soul’s coming back luv…it is…in little bits and pieces like. Like maybe somebody is having mercy on me and tossing in a chink at a time like it all might be too much all at once. ‘An' I want it all back--it hurts like hell, sometimes but thas’ another story. But I feel more solid. I feel more like a man. An’ now I want it all. Now heaven sounds right nice, all floaty and such but there’s gotta be a reason people, demons too, why we come here, that is to Earth, in the first place luv. I think it’s to feel. That is, I mean to touch. You mean to tell me you had you fill of being touched?

Now if at the end of our very long lives when you’ve had your proper fill of the world’s fruit an you’re ready to go and I still can’t make it on me own steam, than yeah--I’ll take you up on that offer right quick. Hell…I can be persuasive…I think I can talk myself in…What aya think?”

Persuasive indeed. He could talk a fungus demon away from his…fungi.

(Lourdes…hmmm holy water…hmmm…)

“It sounds…” Her voice broke a little--god she had been so strong during this whole descent…what if…what if…which only goes to prove that only when there’s hope--the heart breaks.

“I don’t know if I can stand to be disappointed again--“

“--you won’t be. You set the standard yourself. Even if it doesn’t work, which I highly doubt, as the Slayer and I have your best interests at heart even if it doesn’t, just hang in there and we will have such fun together you and me. How ‘bout that? Some fun?”

“Just one thing.” She looked up at him eyes big--this was the pay dirt he leaned in so they’re knees were touching.

She went on.

“I feel so close to the end, Spike…I feel like I’m just hanging on now…like…like I won’t last the night. I’ve even called Giles…to come…” She put her head down…

He leaned in close and put the side of his head next to hers.

“Let me be your strength. You just need something to tie you to the world. Ground you like…you’re all effervescent and almost out of here…hook into me--you remember how--you’re just floatin’ away cuz nothing in the earth was holding you, pleasing to you, let me pleasure you Buffy…remember how we used to feel after we fucked? Charged up and ready to take on the world, not drained or ready to fall off to sleep. Thas’ cuz we did it right…You did it so right…”

She spoke, voice very serious.

“That has got to be the ‘climb Mt. Everest plant a flag and safely climb down the other side’ best pitch ever to get into a girls pants.”

He said nothing but smiled one of those smiles and she looked into his eyes and watched his eyes go deep, and dark and lusty…oh uh…oh god…

“I’m a bit outa practice…”

“Me too…”

“You too as in you hanging around all the divas and ‘actresses,’ too?”

“Oooo kitty cat…”

He took her hand, gently eased her back onto the sand and leaned in to kiss her neck and that…Oh! Oh! Oh! --place behind her ear…

He pulled back to look into her dilated eyes…serious now he said simply…

“There hasn’t been anyone for me since you Buffy…not anyone…”

She stared.

“Why do you think I was so desperate for you to come with me nineteen years ago--kinda selfish on my part--I knew there would be no one else for me--I’ve known it since…”

“Kalispell…”

“If that’s the crazy snow place--yeah…thas’ it…”

She kissed him.

“We’ll go slow…” she advised shakily…

“Nice and slow, so gentle like you won’t even know I’m…well…thas’ not true…You’ll definitely know I’m there right inside you where I should be…”

She sighed.

“Seriously pet, am I pushing this the wrong way? You up to it?”

“I’m not the one who has to worry about being ‘up.’ I can just lie here and have you do all the work.”

Unexpected he didn’t even know himself it was coming--he threw back his head and roared his joy to the world.

“Ooo now I’m scared…”

They both laughed until tears leaked; little water making its escape from the crazy laughing things.

“Here now,” he said wiping her tears… “Can’t be loosing this--we’ll have to plug you with more holy water…”

He stopped as he felt the water tingle on his fingers--he rubbed his fingers together experimentally feeling and waiting to see if there would be an after burn or pain or some such.

Buffy watching him from her position spread out on the sand--saw what he was doing and put 2 and 2 to 10.

“Spike! Does it hurt? You can’t touch me--I might be like an…an acid bath or something to you…”

He looked at her in wonder.

“Nah…nah…doesn’t hurt…like…tingles something fierce…” he climbed on top of her and looked at her with a new kind of avarice--

“No…no…no…you don’t…wait a minute Spike…”

“You kidding? It’ll be like…being inside a vibrating bed or something, complete with sauna--“

“Emily Dickinson you’re not…”

“No…definitely not a girl…” he said suggestively, freeing himself and wriggling between her legs until she giggled, he hiked up her dress but stayed outside her--pushed himself between her legs, he lay his hardness gently on the fleshy part of her thighs so she could enjoy the feel of him between her legs--the way he knew she liked--so she could enjoy the feel of his cock resting just so against her leg and then immediately on automatic, she slammed her legs shut either to enjoy the feel of him or to keep him out of her…didn’t matter to him. The intense pleasure of flesh on flesh after 19 years was enough…it was enough…now if she would only touch him….

“Spike…” she breathed, taking her last stand before surrendering to her own need for him that had laid dormant for so many years and now had no trouble whatsoever roaring to the surface to strip away her sanity: “The holy water--don’t know what’ll do--don’t wanna hurt you…”

That was only going to be true for a couple seconds more and then she wouldn’t care if she hurt him or not the Slayer was screaming to be touched…

He gasped out. “Not…possible…”

She shuddered and suddenly wrapped her arms around him opening her legs and arching up to grab him and suck him in before he could--

--He thrust solid and fast into the hot core of her and then fell gasping on her neck (…oh god…complete…complete…) whispering even while he felt compelled to move--

“So sorry Buffy meant to be gentle---‘

“Shh…shhh…need this…love you…love you…ah…ah...fuck…fuck…” She panted…she ground out, almost commanded in a guttural voice he had almost forgotten.

“Slayer!” He challenged.

In response her fingers dug into his shoulders with such fierce intensity he responded on automatic and changed his rhythm to catch her by surprise--he stroked her hard and slow, pushing into her deep, deeper to find where the Slayer lay waiting for him…

She growled and held him, her vaginal muscles, gripped him tight, gripped HE the intruder, gripped HE her love, gripped and held on until they both were growling and yowling, spitting, loving and writhing in the sand…

Welded together and not being able to move, glued together in yin and yan they came. They crashed. They blundered into bliss into unconsciousness with shared orgasm and mixing identities.

Malefemalevampireslayerhatelovebadgoodhelland…heaven opened before them.

*

The sun was just coming up--almost dawn, but he couldn’t wait--if he got there too early well he would just wait and watch. The moniker of Watcher forced him to be what he was called to be sometimes.

Giles had been walking, felt like he’d been walking for an hour, when in fact, in fact it was quite probably ten minutes. But isn’t it true that time passes much more quickly when you’re older?

Oh yes it was true.

He kept himself cool and calm and concentrated on one task at a time. He had had a terrible sinking in his heart when he received Buffy’s message last night. Somehow in some part of himself and had wished, had hoped that Spike could…what exactly? Shock her back…work some kind of his smack magic as he had seen him do for so many others suffering from addiction or depression or illness over the past 18 years…especially in Europe. Even with no tangible reward system in place, he still couldn’t seem to help himself from helping those being victimized. Especially women. So he had hoped…but perhaps fate was fate and perhaps Spike was only here to bring Buffy hope and love and yes, joy in her final days. Hope. Better to die with hope than to be in morning for yourself. To die poorly is a fate worse than…death.

He sighed. Very bad…analogy and not even mildly witty.

She had written letters to everyone and had told Angel, had told everyone, what she had wanted but none had wanted to hear. The only reason Giles had, was because…well…Buffy had always, in the end…been right. Every call in battle, every dream, every instinct and he had to respect her. Had to. So…after he found…her…well…them…he would be able to distribute the letters so the others could have the feeling of goodbye.

He felt for the can in his pocket for Spike’s ashes--if he had gone along with Buffy’s plan that is--where were they?

She had said those bluffs over there where her favorite--they jutted out a bit and he could not see behind them. The hair crawling on the back of his neck told him that is where they would be.

He smelt the remains of a dying fire as he walking slowly around the outcropping. He braced himself as he rounded the corner. The sun had come up five minutes ago.

He couldn’t see Buffy. Didn’t really expect to see Spike. What? He moved into the clearing, the light was still dim so he still couldn’t quite see all and everything clearly. He sensed her before he saw her.

Her body lay over there close to the rocks; she lay on her side, long brown hair spilled out on the sand.

“Buffy.”

She turned.

And looked toward him and called hopefully: “Giles?”

His heart stopped for a moment. Oh god in heaven this life would kill him. Sharp hard breath; “Buffy?”

“Over here Giles,” she called softly as if not to wake someone.

“Man, am I glad to see you…was hoping you’d be here soon…” She whispered.

He staggered over the sand toward her, his eyes taking her in her altered appearance, she looked a little older but…solid…she was lit up with joy from the inside and shooting it out…but...solid…she looked…real…not ready to fade away.

He knelt beside her and stroked her cheek pulling her to his breast.

She allowed him to hug her but he could tell she wanted to pull away, that she had something else on her mind.

He let her go, and she moved aside so he could see that she had been shielding Spike from the encroaching sun.

He wasn’t in immediate danger but she had moved him to the shelter of the overhanging bluff against the east for protection.

At the sound of Giles voice Spike slowly pulled himself into a sitting position with his back against the bluff.

“What…what’s wrong with him?”

He looked a little older too. Rested but older--how could that be?

Spike was clearly dazed and had the stunned quality of a person shell-shocked. His eyes were opened but unfocused, he followed the sound of their voices but--a little late on the uptake. And he was resting his left hand upon on the top of his breastbone as if to hold the whole of his bodyworks in place.

Buffy leaned back and sat next to him, stroking the back of his head and kissed the side of his face, Spike leaned subtly in toward her.

“He’s…we’ve had a bit of a shock”-- Buffy, shifting moods, turned from Spike and looked Giles straight in the eye, triumphant, vindicated…

“It happened Giles, what I saw in my dream, I’m not crazy…” And here she looked back at Spike.

“Not the way I thought it was supposed to and we weren’t even trying, really. But the dream had felt so…firm…so…set in stone and so maybe it was supposed to happen one way or another…”

“A Heaven dimension?” Giles asked and following Buffy’s example spoke quietly as he sat next to them

Buffy turned back to Giles her face aglow. Her body was practically radiating love and…power.

He hadn’t seen his Slayer this charged…in well…ten years…he swallowed hard.

“I saw Mom, Giles, and Tara and...and…Jenny…she loves you so much, she watches out for you, you know and…and...I can’t describe it…complete and perfect beauty…like there was not one, not even one tiny little flaw or bad feeling…perfect huge love…like an ocean at sunrise…or sunset…” She amended after a moment of serious reflection.

She looked to Spike and continued stroking the back of his head.

“I never thought it might be painful for him to be there--but it was for a moment I could feel it in him and then…then it was him who wanted to stay…”

Spike slowly looked up to her and they looked into each others eyes.

“Can you imagine? The doorway was open like I saw--but what wasn’t in my dreams was…that I could decide. Spike got me …thinking…so when all this love from heaven is in me, I’m thinking…Huh…maybe I’m not done with…the touching yet. We weren’t there long…I don’t think…it was kinda like coming up for air before drowning again--and if it had been longer I don’t think either of us would have come back--”

She took Spike’s hand and he interlaced his fingers with hers.

“But Spike…--” she continued

“--I had no idea…” His voice was almost a surprise to both of them. They waited to see if he would continue Instead he repeated.

“I had no idea…”

Buffy nodded. She continued to watch Spike but addressed Giles. After all Giles had done to be of service to her she would let him know anything he wanted.

“When it was time to go…I knew…what I wanted…but…Spike…had to decide…Giles, he had to decide to leave that…and come back to what he was…”

She let this sink into the silence and they both regarded him but said nothing.

Spike roused himself enough to nod.

Giles looked at the sky, “We best get him under cover.”

Buffy looked up; yeah. I think being in heaven lit us both up so much from the inside he got sorta of an immunity to the sun but I don’t know how long it’s gonna last, don’t wanna push it…we were just sorta gearing up--waiting for our…strength to come back enough to make a break for it. Let’s go.”

Spike was rubbing his chest absently and spoke softly to Buffy into her ear as she helped him up. Almost like a child puzzled by a hurt:

“…It burns…Buffy…”

She kissed the side of his face.

“…I know love, I know…it’ll be alright--we’ll get…a…a…cream…or something…”

Giles took off his long coat and handed it to Spike to drape over his head in case he needed.

As she helped him up, she talked to Giles but it was really for Spike’s benefit to get him moving, forward thinking…

Back to being Earthlinks.

“We’re moving to Europe Giles. It seems I gotta get away from the Hellmouth, like, right away for my health, I just got a double shot of heavenly espresso so I’ll be o.k. for a bit but…so we’ll live in Europe and Spike is gonna take me to the opera--“

Giles hummphed.

“He is. And we’re gonna go shopping and I’m gonna spend all of his money on…tasteless Italian handbags.” Buffy stole a sidelong glance at Spike and continued as they walked forward her arm wrapped around his waste supporting him

”…And…” Another look to Spike. ”…I’m going to have a fine collection of cats…I’ll think I’ll start with a color coded one for every room…but you can’t really make them stay in their own room cuz that wouldn’t be very free range or PC groovy--so I’ll start with cats for the fine aesthetic of it and then just break down to any ole comeby cat…you know, strays…yeah.. Lots and lots of stray kitties and handbags…and…Oh! Oh! And a tattoo! A tattoo in the shape of…a cat…with a handbag!--”

--“Please don’t get a bloody a tattoo--mark up your pretty skin--“

This from Spike. Very, very quiet, but there.

Giles relaxed at the old familiar sound of Buffy and Spike. He remembered it like a favorite song played so suddenly that it made you think of a special summer. They would be all right. They knew how to balance each other when one was down. He sighed but smiled. (Jenny) Soon.

They had stopped to snip. Buffy was enjoying this. He could take it…come back Spike…bounce… She spouted:

“I bloody well will to get a bloody tattoo too--“

Spike stopped and looked at her, studied her face, really, really looked. She continued.

“And we’ll spend Christmas in London, all jolly, ho ho, tut, tut and Dickens look out for us…and Giles can come with us and Dawn too and her family…NO! Better than that--we raid Giles flat, we really take over and you can drink all his Scotch--

“--Denver…”

Buffy stopped Spike scores game over.

“Yes.” She agreed. Quiet.

“We’ll spend this Christmas in Denver.” They kissed and only stopped when they realized that Giles was standing singing almost nonchalant:

“Here comes the sun…do do do do…Here comes the sun…and I say…”

He turned and started walking arms wrapped around himself against the cold serenading them as they tempted fate and possibly temporary gifts from heaven. He sang as he struggled forward in the sand.

Without a word Buffy and Spike followed him walking west toward the bungalow.

Interior arms entwined exterior arms perched on a hip and with the morning sun on their backs they cast a wide long shadow in the shape of a sweet angel made of black ash flapping on the snow white sand.

Snow virgins.

Story continued in ‘Spike By Snowlight’

peace and wonder

©Lizerrrbeathan