¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
And when I touch your hand
It’s then I understand
That beauty lives within
It’s now that we begin
You always liked my way
I hope there never comes a day
No matter where I go
I always feel your soul
Because you’re everywhere to me
And when I catch my breath
It’s you I breathe
You’re everything I know
That makes me believe
I’m not alone
-Everywhere, Michelle Branch-
¤
Lesson the Thirty-Ninth
¤
Spike tried to keep the scream down, but it rose in his throat before he could help it. His chest was already covered in deep cuts and Gabriella smiled at his pained expression.
“Oh,” she said with a mock-empathic face, “does it hurt?”
She put the dagger she had been using down and walked around him before coming to stand before him. She licked her lips and then put them to the wound right above his heart, lapping at the blood. He let out a disgusted snarl, but the ropes hanging down all the way from the ceiling of the great hall and tying his wrists together so that he hung with his arms above his head weren’t prone to give him any free space to get away from her. She laughed softly, pulling back and wiping her mouth.
“Wonderful,” she stated.
The hall was empty apart from them and a few vampires who seemed to be patiently waiting for something. Their stone-figure faces watched the scene without an ounce of emotion. One of them was Mathias.
On a low table were placed six daggers, two small bottles filled with see-through liquid and a larger knife. Two of the daggers carried Spike’s blood, as did the knife. He didn’t even know why this was being done to him.
“Where are you taking me?” he suddenly heard Buffy’s voice, it carried through the hall, bouncing against the walls; and then he noticed the wicked look in Gabriella’s eyes.
He was about to yell out a warning, but Gabriella reached out and pressed with one long nail against one of the cuts to send fluttering strokes of agony through him. They made him see stars.
The Slayer had been demanding to know the same thing ever since she was hauled into a dress and out of her suite. Clara had walked just behind her with a rueful smile on her lips that made Buffy both raging mad and terribly alarmed. She kept having shivers slide deceitfully over her back and down her arms, as if wanting to pronounce to her exactly how uneasy she was. Approaching the great hall her first thought had been that another feast was set to take place, but...
When her eyes landed on Spike she didn’t even think, she was running in the next moment. All she could perceive was the notion that she had to get to him. She would have, if it hadn’t been for two strong arms grabbing her wrists and bringing them behind her back just as she was about to reach her hands out to touch his battered form.
“Let me go!” she screamed, the fury on her as she tried to get out of the grip making the princess smirk.
Clara moved around to stand next to Gabriella, Buffy being to the left of Spike and held back by an unknown vampire. She was kicking and snaking to get loose.
“Let me go!” she screamed again and then she met Spike’s eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, biting back the tears and he nodded with a dazed expression. She could see he was almost gone, which indicated that whatever had been done to him, had been done for a while. She looked at the damage procured to his chest and glared at the one responsible. “What the hell is this?!”
Clara’s smirk widened and she signed for Gabriella to step back. The vampiress did and Clara looked at Spike before having her gaze back in Buffy’s.
“Requiem,” the princess stated. “These are the first notes.”
Buffy frowned.
“There are forces working around you that you will never sense, no matter how you strain your puny ability,” Clara continued as Gabriella grabbed a clean dagger and then took hold of one of the bottles. “These forces are declaring my righteousness, and even more so my responsibility. I am to secure the future for my people, Buffy. And to do that my past has brought me to this moment.”
Gabriella had just dipped the tip of the knife in the liquid of the bottle and now she handed it to the princess who didn’t hesitate before she brought her arm forward and buried the blade in Spike’s side. Buffy screamed her protest, fighting to get free and not caring about holding down the tears anymore. Clara pulled the weapon out and gave it back to Gabriella, who wrapped it in a piece of cloth and placed it on the table.
Spike felt a searing ache begin to spread through him. The needles of pain which soon followed made him grow rigid.
Buffy stared at him, then at Clara.
“For many centuries we have had science on our side. We have toyed around with ways of torture. Not much frighten a vampire. But this,” the princess said, holding up the bottle, “has put fear in disloyal subjects for some time now. It is a slow, but truly efficient, poison. We made one that would require the draining of a slayer for the vampire to be restored to full health, but somehow the lack of hope made the sweetness of the death of those subjected to it left wanting... I know only of a selected few who have actually survived it,” she stated, pausing with her gaze in Buffy’s before she went on: “Without hope of salvation the victims of that poison for some reason saw it fit to simply give up.” She smirked, taking a step closer to Buffy as Gabriella handed her the other bottle. “This is the antidote for THIS poison. The only antidote.”
“Please,” Buffy murmured. “I’m begging you.”
Clara smiled at that.
“I thought that you might,” she nodded.
“What do you want?”
Clara observed her for a long moment before she said:
“I wish you to join me.” Buffy furrowed her brow, perplexed. “Is it so hard to see the truth of this? Is your evolved brain still plucking at the pieces? I was almost convinced that you had already figured it all out. Well, then... if you need a word-for-word description I shall give you the simple one – so as not to confuse you any further. ...I shall turn you, Buffy. Make you one with my line and have it finally completed, as the prophecy has foretold.”
The Slayer stared at her adversary, so completely taken aback by this turn of events that she felt like she needed to sit down. Then the wrath built itself a mighty wave inside her and her eyes flashed it as she burst out:
“Never!”
Clara smiled again.
“Then watch your lover die.”
Buffy felt the enormous frenzy and the confusion and the utter despair rise up in her throat and she screamed it all out as she fought to get loose. Spike heard it distantly. A fog seemed to have enclosed his mind in softness and drowsiness. He tried to keep his eyes open, but his head lolled to the side and then rolled to rest with his chin against his chest.
Buffy looked at him with a sorrow surrounding her heart. Was she to lose him again? She couldn’t! She couldn’t lose him again, not like this! Not now.
“You will return to the surface,” Clara stated matter-of-factly. “I am not a monster. You will be able to say farewell to those closest to you, if you decide to take my offer. A life for a death, Buffy. It is not very unfair, is it? You shall leave tonight, and you shall take William with you. You shall return in two days – alone. When you are here the antidote will be sent to the surface and given to William.”
“How do I know it’s an antidote? How will I know that it’s worked?” Buffy murmured.
“You are playing in a new field, Slayer, and believe me – here everything is deadly serious. I would not risk anything going wrong,” the princess replied, the sarcasm was gone and her gaze was as somber as her words.
Buffy nodded, still stunned. She felt as though she was slowly drowning. It couldn’t be happening. But one look at Spike and she knew that it was.
The whole world; or Spike? The whole world; or Spike?
The vampire who had held her led her back to her suite and it was a good thing, because she had more or less gone blind from the thoughts churning through her head.
¤¤¤
‘Buffy.’
The Slayer looked up at the vampiress and Maeve approached her where she was lying on her bed.
‘I just heard,’ Maeve stated and Buffy nodded. ‘I would never have thought she would actually go through with this.’
‘What do you mean?’ Buffy wondered, her head tired and her body even more so, and still she knew she had a long journey ahead of her to the surface.
She just wanted to sleep, and forget. But she was certain she would be dreaming nightmares again and so she kept her eyes open. She felt like she had the night she was brought back from the grave. Surreal and as though she wasn’t quite there, a part of her was floating somewhere else and couldn’t find its way back.
‘There is something I need to tell you,’ Maeve said.
¤¤¤
The Slayer pulled on her old, dirty jeans, the shirt she had been wearing with them at the descent to the Holy City, and then she brought her hair up in a simple ponytail. She didn’t bother to check her appearance as she walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. Looking around she sighed for no reason and turned her head as the door was opened. The guard gave a slight bow and she nodded, coming up to him and proceeding through the opening. She knew the way to Spike’s suite and started walking even before the guard had closed the door behind her.
She didn’t feel anything.
The shock was much too great.
Her mind boggling under all the different scenarios her imagination supplied it with. And reeling from the intolerantly unstructured attempts at planning an escape. There was none, of course. She knew this. She was utterly and completely stuck.
When her gaze landed on Spike’s pale and sweat-streaked face she knew it even more clearly.
She was slipping away with him.
She reached out a hand, bent down, kissed his dry lips and didn’t feel the need to cry. Only to look at him. To be close.
“Hey, baby,” she whispered. “This is quite the mess, but don’t worry, I’ll clean it up. That’s what I do...” She trailed off, unsure of what she had said, thinking she was muttering nonsense. “I love you,” she then stated softly and he opened his eyes into slim slits to look at her.
Her heart danced, for a second having the silly notion that it wasn’t so bad after all...
He tried to smile, she could see it on him, and she swallowed hard before she managed a smile of her own. Then his eyelids slipped shut again, and she knew that this unconsciousness would hold him too tightly for him to be able to break from it.
She kissed his forehead and then eased one of his arms around her shoulders, her free one going around his waist as she pulled him up into a standing position, leaning against her. He wasn’t heavy, and he wasn’t light, but she knew it didn’t matter any which way. She would bring him to the surface if she so had to scrape up every inch of her body to get him there.
She didn’t want an escort, simply asked to be left alone.
Thus the Slayer and the Vamp left the Holy City, once more venturing into the blackness of the Hellmouth.
¤¤¤
“They have gone, milady.”
“Excellent,” she said with a nod.
“They would not have an escort – the Slayer refused it,” the guard added and Clara cocked an eyebrow.
“How wonderfully spirited she is,” the princess mocked and there was a low chuckle from Mathias as well as Gabriella, who were sitting by the throne. “Patrick,” Clara said and he came up to her, bowing respectfully. “Go to it,” the princess stated and the other nodded, turning and leaving the great hall. “I would not wish anything to happen to them,” Clara said as Mathias gave her a wondering look. “My future seems set on following in that girl’s footsteps.”
It was a rarely expressed vulnerability from the princess and both Gabriella and Mathias knew to keep their mouths shut.
“It is turning into an awful muddle, is it not?” Clara sighed.
She looked at the crystal lying on her left armrest and then she rose. She didn’t need to excuse herself, and both of the others knew where she was going.
She unceremoniously climbed the stairs to the floor hosting Maeve’s suite and raised one fist to knock, but the door opened before she got the chance. Maeve’s face was arranged in a rare expression of utter apathy, her eyes not baring a single trace of emotion. Clara took it in with a slight smile, one which was not returned.
Maeve didn’t care to speak with the princess. In fact, she didn’t care much for looking at her. But as it was she took a step back for the other to come in. Clara shook her head in a minuscule decline, staying in the doorway and waiting another moment before she commenced speaking.
“Darling,” she finally said. “I have but one thing to ask and then I shall leave you alone for the evening.”
“What is that, milady?” Maeve asked.
“I wish to know if you have now, or have ever had any ties to the rebellion I fear is reaching its boiling point?”
Maeve stared at her, then smiled.
“Is that all, milady?”
Clara eyed her back, the sudden contempt, so well hidden and yet nearly palpable, hung between them.
“I believe you ought to be very careful how far you tread in this situation. Is it beyond my threshold then I fear I can no longer hold my hand over you, Maeve. I have urged you to choose a side, and I wish to know that you have chosen the stronger one.”
“I always choose the strongest, my princess,” Maeve curtseyed deeply.
“Oh, I believe that,” Clara nodded, reaching out a hand to touch the other’s bowed head, but then retracting it and stepping out of the doorway. “Goodnight, daughter.”
“Goodnight... milady,” Maeve replied, looking up and then down the corridor as Clara swiftly walked down it.
Maeve closed the door and leaned against it.
She had to speak with Theo.
¤¤¤
“What if we’re too late?” Dawn asked.
“We won’t be,” Angel replied firmly, grabbing a sword and putting it in a sheath which he had strapped over one shoulder so that it hung on his back.
“What if...?”
“Dawn,” Xander interrupted gently, handing her a stake. “We won’t be.”
She took the weapon and smiled a little. She couldn’t shake the anxiety. She had never been this frightened for Buffy before, not even with the First.
Willow watched them get ready and then turned to Camelia.
The gang had arrived at the camp a few hours earlier. Angel, Cordelia and Willow had returned to England on the next plane from Paris as soon as they had concluded that the text translation had to be authentic. They had brought Tilla with them, of course, and right now the vampiress was contained in one of the tents, something that didn’t go by too well with her as she thought she ran the risk of an accidental staking when those on her “side” weren’t looking; this not being anything anyone really concerned themselves with.
Giles had gotten them all tickets for a flight out of London to L.A. and from there they had driven; Giles, Dawn and Xander renting a car while Angel, Willow and Cordelia took the black BMW. It had been a speedy trip and Giles had all the time been cleaning his glasses, especially when Xander did a slightly sharper turn than he could appreciate.
They had been greeted with gladness, but rising worry, by the slayers.
Camelia stood ready and when Willow now turned to her she shook her head.
“We wanted to go in after them,” she said and Willow nodded that she knew. “But the dragon...” Camelia continued, only Willow cut her off by placing a hand on her arm.
“It’s okay,” she assured.
“We’re ready,” Angel said and they all headed out of the large tent.
A group of thirty slayers had armed themselves as well and now they all began the walk down into the crater. It took them over an hour to get to the cave, but once they were there the determination had reached its peak and they were all ready to storm in with their weapons swinging over their heads. Angel calmed them all down, though.
“Let’s be careful,” he encouraged. “We can’t help Buffy OR Spike if we’re burned to a crisp.”
The tension rose at the mention of injury and for a moment he regretted his choice of words, but then he thought it was just as well. They had to be on alert. They slowly started to tread through the opening. Cautiously making their way over the loose rocks which made up the ground. As they began to get closer to the spot where the dragon had appeared the last time, the tension staggered for those who had been there.
Angel made them halt and strained his hearing. He was sure he had heard something. There it was again. A scraping noise. The slayers stood closer together as they picked up on it as well. Angel pulled out his sword and began to walk forward. Slowly, each step deliberate as he tried to see further through the darkness than his night vision would allow.
Suddenly there was movement to his right and he swirled that way just as Buffy staggered out of a smaller opening in the cave wall. She was supporting Spike and when she looked up and saw Angel she nearly fell to the ground from exhaustion and grief.
He caught them both and sunk with them as Willow, Dawn and Cordelia ran forward.
“Buffy!” Dawn cried, throwing her arms around her sister. “Oh, God! We read that you were supposed to be part of this whole vampires-coming-to-claim-the-world and that you were meant to be turned and... You’re not turned, are you?” she asked, pulling back as Buffy smiled a weak smile, shaking her head before she suddenly burst into tears and hugged her sister tight.
Dawn furrowed her brow, holding the older back and stroking her hair.
Willow watched them and then directed her attention on Spike, who was on his stomach. She grabbed his shoulders and turned him over gently, immediately noticing the showing of blue veins all over his throat. They were pulsating, growing clearer one moment and then diffuse the next. She stared at them and then at Buffy. Placing a hand on Spike’s brow she felt he was burning up.
“Buffy,” she said and the Slayer turned her head to her.
Buffy looked at Spike and blinked as fresh tears rose in her eyes.
“Poison,” she stated and Willow’s eyes widened.
“Poison?” Angel asked and Buffy nodded.
“Worse,” she then said at his wondering expression. “Much worse,” Buffy added silently, reaching out a hand and touching Spike.
“We need to get you back to the camp,” Camelia said gently and Buffy looked up at the slayer, then smiled a little again.
Dawn and Angel got Buffy to her feet, and Willow and Cordelia helped Spike; but soon they switched so that Angel supported Spike and Willow took the other side of Buffy. Cordelia moved to walk next to Angel as Camelia wanted to take over the other side of Spike and the slayer exchanged a pained and quizzical look with Angel. But he had no more answers than she at the moment.
¤¤¤
It was the sweetest sensation for the Slayer to be amongst faces she knew so well and have their concern be portrayed so sharply in their gazes. It was such a relief not to be the only one carrying the burden of fretting. The soothing of her friends’ presence was one that she only distantly picked up on, though; as well as the fact that her brain was frying on the glow of much too many thoughts running through it at once.
In actuality it was to her as though someone had carved her out with a dull knife and left was only traces of how she should react to things, what she should be thinking and how she really felt. The deep state of shock she was in had been pushed back since she left the Holy City with Spike at her side, knowing that the difference between life and death were slim and if she wanted to get to the surface in one piece she should keep her focus on what lay ahead on the trail. Soon, however, it would stay dormant no longer and she could already feel how clammy her hands were and how she felt as though she was going to be sick.
“I want to take him back to Los Angeles,” she now said, the haunted expression on her face telling those surrounding her more about her state of mind than if they had asked.
She glanced at Spike who was lying on a cot in Camelia’s tent.
Angel nodded to her statement and Camelia did as well, looking as though she understood. Buffy felt grateful for that. She still had things she needed to discuss with the other slayer. Things the latter had to know, but that Buffy had no idea where to start telling.
“Is he very sick?” Dawn asked and Buffy turned to her, the glaze of her eyes saying it all and Dawn reached out a hand to take her sister’s.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Buffy said wearily. “And while we’re on the subject... why are you here?”
“To make a long story short... part of the translation of what led you here in the first place was completely off,” Willow said. “Much thanks to our dear friend Tilla.”
“Tilla?”
“Do you want the long version?” Willow wondered and Buffy shook her head that she’d hear it later and so the Wicca continued: “The dragon was... Well, not a hoax, obviously, but the fact that it was supposed to foretell the coming of the Ancients wasn’t true. It’s just a...”
“Gatekeeper,” Buffy nodded.
“Yeah,” Cordelia filled in. “Working for both sides... Keeping the Ancients in, and unwanted mortals... and other critters... out.”
Buffy merely waited for anyone to pick up where the others left off. Dawn was the one who said:
“There was a page missing from the book. A vital page that we assume the Arderia took out of it to throw us off the real chain of events that were to take place. The missing page told us that the Chosen would come in the form of a warrior to help secure the future for the Ancient race. There was a drawing of a young girl... Didn’t look like you, but we got the picture. No pun intended. The text said that the ‘transformation’ was supposed to occur on New Years Eve... Which is in two days...”
“Right,” Buffy stated, looking at her sister and then around at all of them. “Well...” she mumbled, not sure of how to proceed. There was a slight pause as she contemplated what to do and then she looked at Camelia, asking: “Can I talk with you?” The other slayer looked slightly surprised at the tightening stance on the blonde, then complied and walked ahead out of the tent. “Sorry,” Buffy added with a glance at the others, “I just...”
She trailed off, not finishing the sentence before she followed Camelia. Angel exchanged a glance with Giles. They could both tell it. Something significant had changed in Buffy, some part that they had always deemed untouchable had somehow been reached and shaken in its very mold. It wasn’t just that her eyes seemed to have aged several years; it was the very feel to her that had changed. She was only twenty-three years old, and yet she moved, spoke and held herself as a woman with a fully grown soul would. As though there was nothing left for her to learn, only decisions for her to make when taking from the knowledge she possessed.
Neither vampire nor Watcher knew quite what to make of that – friend or foe.
Willow knelt beside the cot and looked at Spike’s complexion, unable to not be slightly fascinated with it. She reached out a hand and touched him carefully, then reached over to where Camelia had placed cold water in a bowl and a set of fresh wash-cloths. Willow gently began to wipe Spike’s overheated skin.
Dawn watched from where she was standing, leaned against one of the thick tent poles which were tucked neatly into the ground. Her arms were folded over her chest and she had a solemn air about her. She had thought that it would be over. When she saw Buffy she had felt happier than she had in a long time, knowing that her sister was out of harms way. Now it sounded as if things were a little more complicated than that.
As always.
And they’ll never simplify themselves, she thought glumly, observing the sick vampire and feeling a sting of dread in her heart.
She loved Spike very much and she realized that what she was seeing was him fighting for his life.
What had happened down there? Buffy had only raised a hand that she was too tired or too preoccupied or too worried or whatever when the question was asked. So, when would she tell them? Was she telling Camelia?
Don’t be selfish, the younger Summers sister muttered to herself.
She looked up and noticed that Xander was eyeing her. His eyebrows rose questioningly and she mimed an “I’m fine” with a shrug which had him smile a little, a welcomed sight amongst the gloom. “Right” he mimed back and she gave him a stern look which only had him smile wider. She suppressed her return of it and walked passed him out of the tent. She had no desire to cheer up. She didn’t see any need for the show of joy, there was too much seriousness around and it weighed down on her.
“Where you off to?”
“Thought I’d go see this Clara, just so I can know for myself what the fuss is all about. You mind?!” she snapped, twirling around to face him as he had followed her.
Xander held up his hands.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to sound like I cared!”
“Yeah? What DID you mean? You know, I don’t need you big-brothering me, Xand. I’m a big girl now, I can scamper off on adventures all by myself, if I want.”
“Hmh. But why would you want?” he asked casually and she glared at him, then her face split in a sudden smile. “How many times do I have to tell you? Adventures were made for two. Or more, if you have access to it. A real adventure usually calls for a small arsenal and at least a dozen or so strong, robust males.”
Three slayers walking buy shot him a look and he smirked self-consciously.
“And then we have those few lucky, tiny, built ladies who can kick the horns off a bull, of course,” he added, having Dawn smile again.
“I’ll go for one strong, robust male, if that’s all the same to you,” she said meaningfully, beginning to walk. When he didn’t move she turned back to him. “Hey, slugger – that’s YOU,” she clarified and he got himself moving with a jerk. “Jeez, you’re slow,” she battered.
“Hey, perhaps I’m not used to you actually being straight with me. Your tongue is growing more lethal by the day. I should have a talk with your sister. Or better yet – with Giles.”
“You wouldn’t dare! Besides, I thought you liked my tongue that way.”
“Yeah, right, I do so love all those thrashings I get.”
“Sarcasm, darling. I inherited it from...”
“Buffy has never...” he interrupted her, but she stopped his sentence short with:
“Have you SEEN her with Spike?”
They grew silent at that, their eyes locking for a moment before Dawn looked away, cursing her cheeks under her breath for giving her up with a mild flush.
“So, is the sky real black out in the desert or what?” she asked.
“Yeah, real... black. One might say pitch-black. Or maybe that’s just the desert itself, you know? The sky being all full of stars and... all,” Xander nodded, feeling very lame indeed.
They kept walking. Dawn searching for words and finally coming up with a subject close at hand.
“I’ve never seen Spike like that. I’ve never seen ANYONE like that... You think he’ll...”
“He’ll be fine,” Xander said, cutting her off as they stopped at the edge of the crater, looking down into blackness. “His track record shows his one of those reliable, bouncy-backers.”
Dawn smirked at that.
“I just wish I knew what was going on,” she mumbled.
“Maybe... we should head back. Buffy might be spilling it as we speak.”
She looked up at him and he stared at her, wondering when she had become this grown-up who was standing before him, and thinking it so odd that he must have missed it somehow. His hand almost moved to brush a stray strand of her long hair away from her cheek, but he punished the impulse severely in his head and instead he turned and began to walk back to the camp.
Dawn followed, looking at his back and wondering what had just happened between them; and if it all had been purely in her own head.
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
To love, but not to keep
To laugh, not to weep
Your eyes they go right through
And yet you never do
Anything to make me want to stay
Like a moth, to a flame
Only I am to blame
What can I do
I go straight to you
I’ve been told
You’re to have not to hold
-To have not to Hold, Madonna-
¤
Lesson the Fortieth
¤
Buffy observed Camelia, who seemed quite stunned.
“Are you sure?” she asked and the Slayer nodded.
“She’s there,” she stated. “As are every other slayer supposedly killed by the Arderia. They’re feeding the Ancients, Camelia. That’s why there wasn’t any blood at any of the sights. They were dragged down there...”
She shook her head, clenching her jaws together with growing anger.
Camelia couldn’t find the words to speak at the news – that a woman whom she had looked up to for a long time, and who had led the Dandy branch when Camelia first joined it, was still alive. Or something not far from it.
Buffy continued: “And that’s what the note was about. That’s what it meant. And they were taunting us with it...!”
The Slayer snorted her outrage, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting for a reaction from the other. Camelia stared at the earthy ground at her feet, her eyes brimming with tears when they finally fastened in the blonde’s again.
“We have to get them out of there,” she said decisively.
“I know,” Buffy nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “We will.”
“But... what is this all about, really?”
“I can’t tell you right now, it’ll take too long and I’m sorry ‘bout that. I’ll call you from L.A. Okay? I’ll give you the full low-down, but right now...”
“I understand,” Camelia stopped her with a small smile. “Get him out of here. Someplace warm and safe.”
Buffy nodded and looked up as Xander walked passed and into the tent. Then her sister followed and the tent flap slid aside for her as Xander brought it to the right before letting it fall into place again and Buffy couldn’t help but furrow her brow. Something seemed just a tad off between those two...
As she followed them into the tent, however, that thought as well as all other thoughts but those concerning the vampire still lying on the cot fell away.
Her throat grew dry as she took in his cramping body. He was in pain.
Xander looked at the Slayer and felt a sudden humility at being part of her life. She was such a powerful young woman, such an incredible character and he loved her so dearly. He turned his eyes on Spike.
“Let’s go,” he then said gently before walking up to the vampire and getting him carefully to his feet.
Buffy smiled a little at the sign of acceptance from the mortal, wondering what Spike would’ve thought of it, had he been more lucid. Xander mirrored her smile and Angel came up to assist in getting Spike to the car.
Buffy watched them with an overwhelming emptiness inside. The shock was gaining on her.
Because she had been so attentative to where she was putting her feet, as well as Spike’s, she hadn’t noticed the watchful eyes that followed her on her voyage, the hands that would have steadied her had she at any point faltered. Patrick looked on as the cars were loaded in and then as they drove off. He didn’t wait long before he swiftly followed.
¤¤¤
Not many hours later Buffy pulled the covers up over Spike, letting them go once they reached his shoulders and touching the skin of his throat with her fingertips before she sat down at the edge of his bed. They were in his apartment. She pulled her hands through her hair with a slow breath. Her tears had dried out, she was just a shell. She leaned forward and put her head on his chest, nuzzling her nose into the covers and moving her arms to give his sides a hug.
Then a sob rose and the dam broke once more. She let it, for a while, and then she drew another breath and shook her head at herself.
“It won’t do me any good,” she murmured. “Or you,” she added, looking up at him.
She scooted closer and leaned over him, touching his chin and his mouth and his cheek and feeling so powerless.
He was going to die.
She clenched her jaws together.
Willow came into the room and Buffy couldn’t hold down the hopeful look as she turned her head to her.
“Anything?” the Slayer asked and Willow tried to not look too foreboding as she shook her head slowly.
Buffy smiled, though it was stale.
“Thanks for trying,” she said. “I knew it was a long shot...”
“Maybe if I had access to something more powerful than just... me,” Willow tried and Buffy shook her head.
“These creatures have lived for far too long not to be able to take everything into account,” she said, stroking Spike’s cheek again. “There’s no point. The only cure is the one in their hands.”
Willow hesitated for another few moments, but then decided it was best to leave and so she did, quietly closing the door behind her.
“You’re the most beautiful thing in my life,” Buffy whispered as she looked at his face, her hand placing itself on his chest. “How am I gonna be able to go on without you, huh? ...Spike? Listen, you need to wake up... Spike?”
She leaned closer again.
“Spike,” she said a little louder. “William the Bloody, I love you, you hear? Your slayer loves you. And she needs you to wake up!” She closed her eyes. “Damn it, Spike. You can’t do this! I won’t let you! You’re stronger than this, you can make it retract! You can stop it! Spike...” She trailed off as the tears were flowing again, putting her head by his neck and wrapping her arms around him. “I need you. I need you to wake up... I can’t do this alone. Please...”
Finally she pulled back, looking at him and then bringing herself to rise. She sniffled as she walked up to the door, feeling sedated with sorrow and desperation.
She continued into the living room of the apartment, where everyone was gathered.
“Buffy,” Dawn said and Buffy gave her a small smile.
“It’s good to see you all,” she murmured.
“Is there anything we can do?” Giles asked.
“No... there’s only something I can do,” she replied.
¤¤¤
Maeve drank another mouthful of the strong liquid. It was ruby red, but not made of blood or wine. It was a specialty of Sam’s. She needed it to strengthen her nerves. She had not seen Theodore since the evening in the orchard and she felt as though her usually so silent heart was performing hopscotch in her chest. She slowly spun the thin neck of the glass between her forefinger and thumb, observing how the light played in its perfectly smooth surface.
The small door leading from the Blue Orchard and into the hidden room opened and she nearly flew to her feet, feeling as though her chest was imploding and almost... almost... as though her heart was actually racing. She swallowed as Theodore straightened out his tall form and shut the door behind him with one foot. Then he smiled and she felt her anxiety melt away. She smiled back before that too dispersed and she grew serene as she said:
“I fear Clara is growing suspicious.”
“She has always been suspicious. Why do you think Matthew takes all those trips?”
She had to smile again, then shook her head as the jittering feeling in her stomach made itself known.
“She came to my room before and for the first time she asked me right to my face if I was having anything to do with the rebels. Theo, she knows something. I swear, I am not usually this paranoid. In fact, if you saw me heading a meeting or laying out orders I am fairly certain that even a vampire of your caliber would be quite...”
“Maeve,” he silenced her softly. “There is no need to impress me. I am very familiar with the powers you possess.”
She felt foolish, and even more so for the happiness which spread through her at his words. He couldn’t have chosen them in a better way. And she recalled having once ridiculed him for his love of embellishing in beautiful speech. Of course, he only did that with her... He tended to be practically mute when near other beings. A side effect of being in the position he was in, she supposed. He was so drilled in Observe and Listen that he put himself in that mode whenever with strangers. She smiled once more. At how well she knew him.
“No matter if she knows,” Theodore now said. “No matter, Maeve, because it is far too late to go back. And would you even want to?”
“No, I am not saying this to you because I have changed my mind! I am saying it because I fear we might need to make new plans...”
“You forget the advantage we have had over her through all of this. Her ignorance, Maeve.”
This soothed her and she looked at him, still standing across the room from her, and her gaze warmed. He felt a sensation fill him which he had scarcely experienced before. A tender caress that sent uncommon goose-bumps all over his arms and shoulders. And then came the flash of desire. It was so bright it almost blinded him and he stared at her through the mist before his eyes.
“Matthew is coming,” he said, voice deeper than usual and Maeve nodded stiffly.
She wasn’t sure why he was telling her, but since her knees were about to buckle from underneath her she thought it was probably best if they got some form of distraction in the room with them. Apart from each other. Speak of the devil – the door behind Theodore slid open and Matthew stumbled through it, turning his eyes on it before kicking it shut.
“I hate that thing, I really do,” he said heatedly. “I bumped my head about ten thousand times on the way here. By the Seal, I cannot figure how you do it, Theo. Do you crawl?”
He waited for an answer, thinking it would be witty, dry or well-placed, probably a combination of all three, but none came. He looked from his tall friend and to the beauty standing before him.
“Should I leave?” he asked and Maeve forced her gaze out of Theodore’s to smile at Matthew.
“Silliness is out of place,” she said and Matthew raised his eyebrows. “Please, sit.”
They all had a seat at the table and Sam soon came into the room from the back door with a carafe filled with more of his secret concoction and two clean glasses. He set it all down on the table.
“Did you speak with Pearl?” Matthew asked.
“Marion did,” Sam nodded. “She said Pearl had promised to speak with her father. I believe he could be a strong voice, Matthew. It was a very good idea.”
“We’ll see,” Matthew replied. “We need all the voices we can get our paws on before it’s time to act.”
“Your voice is not too bad, we are very glad to have it,” Theodore pointed out to Sam, who gave a grunt, though it showed that he was flattered.
“This round is on the house,” he merely said and left the room.
The three old friends laughed and once the two empty glasses had been filled they toasted as only old friends can.
The resistance had been working for many decades, the undercurrent which had plowed the way for it had been there through all the centennials since Clara’s obsession with bringing their kin to the surface was first proclaimed. The people had sensed it, her will pulling them in a direction different than that which they had seen fitted for them for the rest of their existence, but had never gotten as much information as they did now. It came in small doses, and it was easy for the members of the resistance to determine early on who were susceptible and who were not. The vampires of the Holy City had since long taken sides, however. What was the fear of the resistance was that once the quiet lives of the citizens were uprooted – the Ancients would not know where to turn. That was where Sam came in, and over three dozen others just like him. They formed the cornerstones of reliable pillars of society who would step forward and speak out against going to the surface, once Clara made it official that the time had come.
Maeve looked at Matthew and then glanced at Theodore.
Had he felt it too, she wondered. What had passed between them like silk threads, tying them together. She had almost trembled from the need to touch him... and looking at him now his dark hair seemed too inviting, too soft, too much like that silk. She could imagine what it would feel like against the skin of her stomach... his head resting there... her fingers gliding through those locks...
She closed her eyes.
“Something the matter?” Matthew broke her from her thoughts and she smiled distractedly.
“Anything that is not?” she retorted and he smirked.
“I just get the feeling I interrupted something,” he murmured, sipping the liquid in his glass and noticing the brief look Maeve and Theodore exchanged. “But I shan’t dwell on it, if you do not wish it,” he added with a very posh English accent and the other two smiled widely at that.
“And I who once thought you tactless,” Theodore said, putting an arm around the shoulders of the other.
“Unrefined,” Maeve filled in.
“Pointless... at times,” Theodore nodded, eyes in hers and then back on Matthew who tried to snake free of the grip with a dignified look on his face.
“I shall take all of these insults as compliments for never did I want to carry a burden of yours,” he retorted and after a moment they all laughed again. “It is all set up, by the way,” he added.
“Good,” Maeve said, raising her glass. “To Clara. Without her this day would never have come about.”
The two males tentatively raised their glasses as well, then said in unison:
“To Clara.”
¤¤¤
She wondered what was rushing through the Slayer’s head right now.
Holding up the small bottle with the antidote against the dying flames of her fireplace the vampire princess smiled to herself.
She wished she could break through the warrior’s skull, dig around in her brain and read all those pages she wanted none to ever see. How the Slayer loved and made love to creatures she had been born to hate and loathe. How she constantly found herself in their arms, one way or another. It must be so difficult for someone so young, unable to escape her destiny.
Clara tilted her head back and laughed.
Poor William. She had tried to give him a chance at dignity. To even be wounded with that abhorrence within him... It was scalding to her nerves to think that one of her children had actually chosen to suffer such a degrading circumstance.
For love.
“Fool,” she muttered, throwing the bottle on the chaise lounge next to her and then rising.
She would not miss the castle, but she would miss this room. She would have it duplicated in... wherever she decided to live. Perhaps one apartment in every city. A thousand homes on every continent. The world would be her oyster. To suck the living daylights out of.
Another smile, this one cold.
She wished there wasn’t still so much to be done.
She wanted only to enjoy these last few days.
But she knew she had to get to it, and so she gracefully exited her chambers and went all the way down to the dark, dank dungeons.
¤¤¤
An hour later Theodore stopped before the heavy door which would take him down to where his princess was. He did not care much for this particular part of the castle. Opening the door he walked down a steep set of stone steps and entered a wide hall; chained to the walls hung the slayers and he could barely look at them. Out of pity, but mostly out of shame. The wide hall brought him further into a hallway, doors on either side, all of them barred. The hallway ended in a T and he took to the right.
More doors, all of them closed but one. It was the one furthest down the corridor and he headed toward it.
He didn’t know why he had been summoned, but he had the strongest sense that he wasn’t going to like it. He entered the room indifferently, but had to halt at the sight which met him.
Gabriella was delivering another kick to the head of Ophelia.
Theodore had to swallow the gall which the tremor of fury roused in him.
Clara turned to him.
“I wish you to go to the sixth floor,” she said and he felt how his heart sank all the way to the clasps of his boots.
“For what, your majesty?” he asked, sure to keep any tremor out of his voice.
“I wish you to apprehend Maeve and bring her here,” the princess replied. He wanted to protest, but classified that thought as pure idiocy and merely bowed his affirmative. As he left he thought he heard Clara add to herself: “I want her to witness this.”
He nearly ran to the sixth floor straight away, to tell her to leave, to run, to save herself. Clara wanted Maeve in bonds and Theodore knew what this meant. Clara had never showed mercy. What did she know? HOW did she know?! He braced himself and fought back the icy tears in his eyes as he knew he must do this by protocol or he had no chance to save her later.
Maeve... Needing saving? It sounded preposterous!
Yet he knew that all of her strength would be wasted by the following morning.
Gabriella would see to that.
He steadied himself. He had to do this. Or it would all be for nothing.
¤¤¤
Buffy looked out over the glittering lights of the city. She was alone in the small study, and was thankful for the stillness. She felt as though her thoughts were screaming at her enough as it was, she didn’t really need to hear any further protests from those she required to support her. She knew they couldn’t understand, but the uproar her story had created had prompted her to seek refuge somewhere else.
Now Giles entered, but she didn’t look at him.
He observed her for a long while. He could see the stress on her form, could tell the tattling lines around her mouth and eyes, the tight jaw line. He wished there was some way that he could take the burden off her shoulders, but he had always known that he never could. The cape of the slayer would forever be too heavy for anyone else to bear.
“Buffy,” he began slowly. “You cannot be seriously considering this option.”
“I can’t just watch him die.”
“There must be some other solution...”
“There isn’t.”
He stared at her. He had always known her to be stubborn, but not foolish. Rash, yes, but never in the sense that it played out her common sense.
“Buffy, you are putting the world’s future on the line.”
“There is an army of slayers out there,” she protested. “An army, Giles.”
“And with you gone they have no born leader to guide them. Their entire list of role models, ends and begins with you, and with you gone they will be quite lost. Something this Clara is certainly expecting. You are being selfish, Buffy.”
She glared at him, then her eyes weakened and she moved her gaze to the view again.
“I talked with Camelia. Told her what needs to be done. What measures they need to take in order to hold the Ancients back...”
“This is crazy talk!” he exclaimed and she turned to him again.
“The fighting will most likely be contained to the Hellmouth and the Holy City anyways,” she continued. “The war won’t be between slayers and vampires; it will be between vampires – period. This will leave only a small group needed to keep watch so no vampires get out through the cave. Camelia actually had some very good ideas how to...”
“You can’t sacrifice yourself!” he raised his voice.
“And who can I sacrifice?!” she yelled back. Pausing before she continued: “The man... that I need in my life, so much, is lying in there, wasting away, dying! Can I sacrifice him? Is that the right thing to do?! If I lose him I’ll... I can’t lose him,” she finished. “...I love him.”
“And he loves you. How do you think he’ll feel when he wakes up and realizes what you’ve done? Do you think he’ll be grateful? You’re putting him in the same position you are in right now!”
“No,” she shook her head. “He’ll have no choice but to accept it, where I have the choice to make a difference. I will not let him die, Giles. I couldn’t live with myself if I did. The future of this world isn’t only my responsibility anymore – and whatever’s meant to happen... will.”
She looked at him, her expression solemn, and then she walked passed him and out of the room.
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
Come to me, run to me
Do and be done with me
Don’t I exist for you
Don’t I still live for you
Everything I possess
Given with tenderness
Wrapped in a ribbon of glass
Time it may take us, but
God only knows how I’ve
Paid for those things in the passed
Dying is easy
It’s living that scares me to death
I could be so content
Hearing the sound of your breath
Don’t I belong to you, baby
And don’t you know that
nothing can tear us apart
I’m telling you that
I loved you right from the start
Winter has frozen us
Let love take hold of us
Now we are shivering
Blue ice is glittering
-Cold, Annie Lenox-
¤
Lesson the Forty-First
¤
Maeve opened the door to her suite and her eyes widened as they met Theodore’s.
“Seize her,” he said simply and she was about to object when two guards grabbed her arms forcefully and pulled her out of the doorway.
“What’s going on?” she demanded, looking over her shoulder at Theodore, but he merely shook his head for her to be quiet. “Theo...” she tried, but gave it up at the look he gave her.
She was brought through the castle, all the way down to the ancient dungeons, which hadn’t been put to real use until recently. She didn’t think she could stomach the sight of the slayers hanging from the walls and she closed her eyes for a brief moment just as a heavy wooden door was opened and she was pushed into a smaller interrogation room.
She looked up and met the cold gaze of her princess.
She noticed Ophelia, sitting on a chair behind the regal form, and her throat became sandpaper.
“You... traitor,” Clara hissed.
“I swear, I told her nothing!” Ophelia exclaimed at the faltering expression on Maeve’s face. “I told her nothing!”
Clara’s hard fist was enough to shut the vampiress’ mouth and Maeve took a small step forward, though she knew it was pointless – there was nothing she could do. Gabriella stepped forth, out of the shadows, and Ophelia’s eyes grew round at the sight of the silvery stake in the assassin’s hand. Maeve felt a piece of her heart tear away as Gabriella raised her arm and sunk the weapon straight into the other vampiress’ chest. Ophelia locked eyes with her benefactor and Maeve offered her a small smile as sign that she believed her, then the former burst into ashes.
Clara brought her hand up, holding a crystal Maeve immediately recognized. In her flurry of happiness, being wrapped in thoughts of Theodore, she had completely forgotten to retrieve it when she left the orchard. A lethal mistake, she now concluded.
“What now?” she asked, voice chilled as she fastened her gaze in Clara’s. “Will you stake me as well?”
Clara’s face split in a diabolical grin at that.
¤¤¤
“Buffy?”
Buffy tensed and then turned to face her younger sister. She could see the distress on Dawn’s face and wished more than anything that she didn’t have to be the reason for it.
Dawn stared at her sister, at her beloved face and the clear regret in her gaze, the protectiveness that was coming off the Slayer was something that in no way was new to Dawn, but that now carried a whole new meaning. It couldn’t be true.
“There has to be another way,” the teen murmured.
“We can say that a thousand times... a million, even... and it won’t make it anymore true,” Buffy said gently.
“But... you can’t,” Dawn shook her head. “You can’t... do this.”
“Dawnie.”
“No!” Dawn stopped her, tears quickly wetting her eyes and Buffy fought to keep her own at bay. “You can’t do this!” the younger repeated. “Why? Why would you? Why would you have to? We’ll find a way to help Spike! We’ll go down there and STEAL the goddamn antidote, if that’s what it takes! You’ve got friends down there, right? They can help you get it! They’ll...”
Buffy walked up to her, silencing her by carefully bringing her long hair behind one shoulder and Dawn looked away from her as the tears ran down her cheeks. Buffy knew she was angry, hurt...
“I’m not not choosing you,” the Slayer said softly. “You have to understand that if I could have it any other way...” She trailed off at the sight of Dawn’s clenched jaws, stopping the stroking of her hair and then taking one of her hands, leading her with her as she walked up to the foot of the bed and sat down. “I love you, Dawn,” the older continued with so much emotion it made the younger turn her gaze in hers. “I love you so much. But...”
Trailing off again the blonde turned her eyes out of her sister’s and tried to find the right words. Dawn got there first as she said:
“I don’t want you to have to give up on Spike. I know how much he means to you. And now, having the chance to... I get that you can’t let him die. I mean, God... But, Buffy... I don’t want YOU to die. I don’t know if I can deal! Last time I...”
“Last time is three years ago,” Buffy stopped her firmly, though her sight was dimming with tears as well. “Last time you were so young and now, look at you – you’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman, Dawn. You’re strong – stronger than you think. You cracked the allusiveness of the book, didn’t you?” Dawn smiled through her tears and then she wrapped her arms hard around her sister.
“But I’ll miss you so much.”
Buffy closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely as she hugged her sister back.
“I know,” she mumbled. “I’ll miss you so much too. But I have to do this.”
¤¤¤
Xander turned his eyes from the TV as Dawns sunk down on the couch next to him. They had barely spoken since... He furrowed his brow, then reached out a hand and touched her shoulder.
“Hey,” he said and she looked at him.
Her face was a blank and he was suddenly afraid for her.
“Dawn...?” he said and she looked down at her hands in her lap before fastening them in front of her.
He hesitated, then slid close to her, putting an arm around her shoulders and she leaned heavily against him, though her head was in its same position and her eyes were growing so distant. He felt his own pain mix with the one so evident on her and he put a nearly trembling hand on her hair, stroking it carefully. It didn’t feel wrong – at all. He looked at her profile and began to speak in a soft voice.
Willow glanced over at them. Saw how deeply Xander wished to give comfort. The Wicca knew there was no comfort to be had, no soothing words that could help. If there had been, she would’ve been the first to offer them.
“This whole situation is unbelievable,” she murmured and Giles looked up from the book he was reading.
He put it down and observed Dawn as well, then sighed.
“Yes, quite,” he agreed, picking up the book again.
Willow eyed him for a moment skeptically, then asked:
“Is that all you have to say?”
“Will anything else I can say change the situation?”
She hesitated, then grumbled:
“No.”
“Well, then, there you have it.”
She shook her head at him, then glanced at the hallway leading to the vampire’s bedroom. Buffy had locked herself in there stating she didn’t want to be disturbed until the next morning. And probably she would prefer not to be disturbed then either.
Willow walked up to the couch and sunk down on the vacant spot by Dawn’s side, wrapping an arm around the younger girl and resting her head against her shoulder. Dawn wasn’t crying, but her gaze was far off in the distance and Willow wished more than anything that she could bring her out of there. But only Buffy could do that.
So much suffering, Willow thought. Always so much suffering being part of this group. Maybe I should’ve quit it a long time ago.
She had to smile at the sarcasm of the thought. Then the smile faded away and left was nothing but the same emptiness she saw on Dawn. Buffy was going away, and she wasn’t coming back. Ever.
¤¤¤
“Hi, baby,” Buffy whispered, carefully placing herself on the bed next to him and gently playing with a few short strands of his bleached hair as she looked at his pale face. “I know, you don’t feel too good, do you?” she asked, voice soft as she stroked his cheek and then she smiled. “I’ll make it all better again, trust me. You just have to hold on for a little while longer.”
She put her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
“I have all these thoughts in my head...” she mumbled. “All these feelings that are everywhere at once and it’s confusing and annoying and terrifying. And wonderful. I’m so happy that I don’t have to hide from myself... or from you... ever again. I can look at you or be near you and give into it, to this... need to be closer, see more. I always wanted to know you. I always wanted to understand you. But I couldn’t bring myself to admit it... Color me the happy idiot. ...I just... I want you to know that I’m sorry for all the times I brushed you aside.”
She looked up at him. Taking him in for a long moment.
“Confession time,” she then spoke gently, “it’s getting to me. Having to say my... farewells or what you wanna call it. I never got to do that. There was never some baddie walking up to me saying ‘Hey, you’re gonna die in two days.’” She paused, then smirked. “Well, apart from you,” she added with a low giggle before looking at him warmly. She shook her head a little. “You’re truly handsome, aren’t you? I would’ve loved hanging on your arm for a thousand years... But you know that I couldn’t do that. You know me. You know that I would never choose that. Apart from what I’m sorta doing right now, but it’s not the same thing. It’s not you standing before me asking me if... Spike, I couldn’t. I may have sometimes wished I could, but in reality... Look, what I wanted to say was that they’re all grieving me already... just like I’m grieving you, and I don’t want it to be that way. I just wanted you to know why I’m talking to you like you’re awake, in case you were in there going ‘Hey, shut up, lady, I’m trying to...’”
She trailed off, closing her eyes again, the lightness of her speech fading with her smile. There was too much she wanted to say. She gazed up at him once more, nearly whispering:
“Honey... can you hear me?”
He could, she could sense it. She blinked at the rising tears and pulled herself up, kissing his cheek and then caressing it lovingly.
“I’ll read to you,” she said, reaching over and grabbing the book she had brought with her from her room.
She opened it at the bookmark and clarified:
“I’ve reached the ‘The House at Pooh Corner’ part,” before she began. “’One day when Pooh was thinking, he thought he would go and see Eeyore, because he hadn’t seen him since yesterday. And as he walked through the heather, singing to himself, he suddenly remembered that he hadn’t seen Owl since the day before yesterday, so he thought that he would just look in at the Hundred Acre Wood on the way and see if Owl was at home...’”
¤¤¤
“She asleep?”
Xander turned around at the sound of Buffy’s voice.
“Yeah,” he replied, his face tight as he silently closed the door of the guestroom in which Dawn was resting. “Finally,” he added, not able to hold back the accusation in his gaze as he walked passed the Slayer.
“Xand,” she tried, but he simply continued through the small hall and into the living room.
Buffy followed.
Behind the curtains covering the windows the sun was just coming up. Buffy watched the red glow which fell through the slits and spread its long fingers across the floor. It looked so peaceful, and yet it was the product of one of the largest threats to the life of two persons she loved.
“Where’s Angel?” she asked.
“In his apartment,” Xander replied, his tone sharp as he turned to her and she cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t,” he warned, making her blink quizzically. “Don’t judge me for being just a little pissed off with you. Dawn hasn’t been able to get to sleep, not because she’s been talking all night – no, she’s just been completely unable to relax enough for her exhaustion to take over. How can you do this to her?!”
“No, how can I do this to YOU, isn’t that what you really wanna say?” Buffy bit back.
Xander’s eyes widened.
“To ALL of us!” he exclaimed.
There was a pause as she observed him, then she said:
“You’d have me give up Spike? You know, for a moment there I actually believed that you... But I was wrong, wasn’t I? You really hate him that much? After everything?”
“I really love YOU that much,” he disagreed.
“And I really love HIM that much,” she stated seriously. “I know it’s hard for you to understand. It’s always been so hard, for some reason... even for me for a long while. But... you don’t know him like I do. You’ve only seen bits and pieces of him being ruthless or obsessive or spiteful or generally annoying... Xander, I’ve seen him be caring – even before his soul. He protected Dawn AND my mom just because I asked him to. I never believed in his love back then, but I do now. Thinking back I can see it so clearly. I’m not saying that I should’ve acted differently, but I shouldn’t have been so...” She trailed off, crossing her arms over her chest and collecting her thoughts before she proceeded: “And now... Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you see him in the exact same light as before?”
Xander observed her for a few moments, then sighed.
“No, I can’t,” he admitted, her face softening slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I think you should just lay down your own life for him!”
“I’d do the same for you,” she replied with a small smile. “For all of you. The fact that I’m in love with Spike... it doesn’t make it an easier decision. But I’d never be able to leave this behind me if I sat idly by while he disappeared out of this world again. I had to do that last time, and now I have the ability to...”
“But you won’t be here to see him live,” Xander interrupted and she smiled another smile.
“And I can’t live without him.”
“Oh, please,” he murmured, though he was taken with the sincerity of her expression and the sarcasm was rather lacking from the sentence.
She walked up to him and moved her arms around him in a warm hug. He held her back, biting his tongue as he knew that he could come up with all the protests he’d like, but she wouldn’t hear them. He couldn’t believe how much he’d miss her.
¤¤¤
Theodore hesitated, then squared his shoulders and knocked on the door before him. Clara’s voice stroked his mind soothingly and he entered her private domains, glancing at the painting carrying Isaiah’s signature and finding it oddly misplaced in the room. It seemed a scorn in the eye of every meaning of propriety. However, he shrugged it off and faced his princess with a bow.
“Milady.”
“I was wondering how long it would take you to come, Theo,” she smiled, though her eyes glinted ice. “Tea?”
He didn’t even bother to respond, merely looked at her for the time it took her to pour herself a cup. She stirred in sugar and then bit the tip of her finger and let a few thick drops of blood fall into the steaming liquid as well. Raising it to her lips she glanced at him and he clenched his jaws together. He had the urge to speak his mind – and all of it – but kept it in.
She placed the cup on its plate and sighed as she sat down in an armchair, her back almost to him and her body outlined against the bright and ever dancing yellow of the flames in the fireplace.
“What is it, then?” she inquired.
“As though it is not clear to you,” he murmured and she gave a slight giggle, too girlish for her and the insincerity of it made a cold vein hit his heart, having him shudder. “She has served you...”
“She has never served me,” Clara interrupted, suddenly at her feet and walking up to him with her gaze burning. “She has never sought my liking, has always walked the footsteps she herself painted out before her. She never stood at my side other than when it was of convenience to her, even when she was a newly born, even when she came to me for advice she only sucked it up like a sponge because she knew that someday it would become of use to her... away from me. I loved her, Theo, you mustn’t think I did not. But... she has forfeited that love. Abandoned it. And love without shelter withers and dies. It is not created to stray... it needs a home.”
“Your highness, I come to ask for her life.”
“What would you do with it?”
“I would bestow it back onto her.”
“For what?”
“For she is worthy of it!”
Clara clicked her tongue, then smiled again.
“I understand why you have sentimental value in seeking her saving and not her demise, but you must see why I cannot grant you your request. She is a traitor... and captured as such she is meant to be made an example of.”
“Milady, what charges do you have against her?”
Clara raised her eyebrows, then put her hand in the pocked of her robes and brought out the crystal, holding it up with a meaningful expression on her face. He stared at it, then forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t believe it. How careless they had been. This was partly his fault! Had he only...
“Let all know, Theodore, that it does not even serve them to be of my closest kin should they decide to try and trip me. I will have my vengeance on Maeve. She is my daughter no more.”
He had nothing to say, and so he merely bowed deeply before straightening his posture. Clara observed him keenly for a moment, then replaced the crystal in her pocket and said:
“Go tell Gabriella I need to see her.”
He gave a nod, turned and left the room. Relieved to be out of her presence and at the same time innerved. He wished he could keep his eyes on her at all times. He wanted to be able to read her mind. How much simpler things would have been if he only could have.
Maeve.
He sped up, knowing exactly where Gabriella was.
¤¤¤
The hard fist met Maeve’s cheek and her head jerked to the side. The corner of her mouth carried stains of blood; her bottom lip was cracked and bleeding; there was a trail of blood over her right cheek from a cut in her forehead; her wrists were scuffed from the sharpened iron keeping her hanging from the wall. The bruise on her left cheek, formed by the harsh fist connecting with it over and over, was sore and ever expanding.
“Give me a name,” Gabriella said and Maeve spat out a mouthful of blood before she glared at her tormentor. “Just one, that’s all I need for someone else to take over this job for you.”
“There are... no other names... than mine,” Maeve got out and Gabriella hit her again.
“You know I love to hear you say that,” she smirked, turning and walking up to the low table holding her tools.
She grabbed a scalpel like knife and brought it with her back to her victim.
“We shall see how much pride you have left once I am through with you,” she stated, putting the scalpel against the fabric of Maeve’s dress and cutting along the hem until she could easily tear it off her.
The white under-dress was already stained with the vampiress’ blood and the sight of it made Gabriella’s eyes glint with ill will.
“Let us see how well that color becomes you, shall we?”
“Her highness wishes a word with you,” Theodore’s voice interrupted and Gabriella’s face flashed with fury as she turned to him, then she smiled a small smile, putting the scalpel back and walking up to the door.
“Take a last look,” she said, and he gave a faint smile in recognition as she disappeared outside.
Maeve looked at him, then away.
“Please,” he murmured and she shook her head.
“Don’t, or I shall cry. I cannot cry, not now, not like this, not for her to see...”
His hands, catching her face between their palms and forcing her to meet his gaze as he stood before her in the next instant, stopped her protest.
“For the sake of all that is Holy, I beg of you...”
“I should rather have you use her stake,” Maeve replied. “Would you have me betray all that I believe in? For what? Release? Death shall release me, Theodore. Nothing else can.”
His hands dropped to rest at his sides as he took in the determination in her expression.
“I can. I have the key for the chains... I have...”
“No,” she stopped him. “I will not have you risk exposure.”
“The crystal...”
“...is MY contrivance. Clara knows it. She has no link to you. My tracks blocked yours out, I am certain of it. You would not be here if they suspected for even a moment...”
“I cannot... watch and do nothing.”
“Then don’t – leave,” she encouraged gently. “This is my fate. Yours is leading our people, stopping a war that will terminate all that is real about our world. Now, go... before she comes back.”
He looked at her for another prolonged second, aching to tear her free, and then he walked to the doorway. Maeve watched him go and then closed her eyes, forcing herself to find the reserve of strength inside of her, knowing she had to endure the torture no matter what Gabriella was apt to think up next.
¤¤¤
Buffy closed the door of Spike’s bedroom behind her and paused as she watched him lying on the bed. She felt for him, knowing that he had to be suffering. He seemed to relax at the sound of her voice and so now she approached him once more, sinking down on the edge of the bed at his side and gently taking one of his hands in both of hers.
“Hi, sweetie,” she mumbled. A shadow drew over her face and she closed her eyes as the tears rose. “I knew something like this would happen,” she whispered. “I knew it would and I pushed you away. If I’d just not done that... we could’ve had a little more time. But God forbid Buffy would think ahead... I thought I was, but...” She opened her eyes again, watching his face and having the tears run over to carefully slip down her cheeks. “Oh, God, Spike... If I’d just gotten the chance to tell you everything and have you look at me... see that smile of yours... It’s too late now. Everything’s too late.” She moved forward, placing herself along his side and nestling her face against his chest. “I want you to be happy.”
“I can’t be happy without you, love.”
She jerked her head up, her eyes widening as his fingers wiped at her tears. The veins were gone, the poison had to have pulled back through some miracle...!
No, she thought, her heart slowing its race, I’m dreaming.
“And I can’t be without you,” she mumbled as he sat up.
She didn’t hesitate before she scooted closer and put her arms around him, pressing herself to him. His arms were around her in the next moment and a sob rose out of her throat. He hushed her gently, stroking her back and then moving his head so he could kiss her deeply. She returned the kiss with the heat rising through her entire body and when he tilted her over she had no objections.
The tears kept running as he slowly made love to her, and when she woke up they had stained the pillow her cheek was resting against.
¤¤¤
Three hours later she slipped soft sand through her fingers, letting it return to the beach on which it belonged. The ocean unfolded its glittering embrace before her and the sun was high in the sky above her head. All around her life seemed at its peak and she breathed it all in with both ease and painful difficulty.
She was nervous, and frightened, but tried constantly to push the thoughts out of her head and focus on the moment. She didn’t know what the outcome would be of her return to the Holy City. She was praying and hoping for the miracle she needed, but when she looked back on what she had learned of the Ancients she couldn’t stop the doubt from creeping its way into her. Perhaps nothing could stop this, perhaps it was her inevitable destiny.
“It’s pretty,” Willow’s voice stated next to her.
Buffy smirked, not turning her eyes from the sea as she nodded a little.
“I’ve always thought so,” she agreed as the Wicca took a seat beside her.
They were quiet for a while; a friendly silence which spoke in a way words couldn’t. Finally Willow reached out a hand and put it in the Slayer’s, holding it. They stayed quiet for another while.
“So, totally out of the blue and speaking of something else, did you hear about Dingo Ate My Baby playing just around the corner?” the Wicca asked and Buffy raised her eyebrows.
“Is...?”
“No, he’s not there,” Willow replied.
“Right. Why would he be? I mean, the name of that group is oddly fitting for him – but...”
She trailed off.
“Yeah, BIG but,” Willow agreed.
Buffy smiled again.
“I was actually wondering where Kennedy is,” she said and Willow sighed.
“She didn’t wanna come. She wanted to stay with the slayers she knows and keep the gang rallied up back in good old England.”
“But you didn’t talk her out of it?”
Willow was silent for a long moment and then she replied silently:
“I miss Tara.”
Buffy furrowed her brow.
“Christmas has always been the hardest holiday... without her. She loved it so much, you know? She used to deck the apartment in bows of holly while she played the song and she’d decorate a tree just... so beautifully. She had such an eye for those kind of things. I remember once, when Miss Kitty Fantastico was still little and... not given away...” She smiled a slight smile before she continued: “She just lay on the floor beneath this small tree Tara had gotten us, and she played with this big, red Christmas ball hanging low enough for her to reach. The kitten did – not Tara.”
“Really?” Buffy asked sarcastically, though she wore a broad smile.
“I was reading my old diaries before I came here and I just... felt so lonely. I shouldn’t feel that lonely if I really loved Kennedy, I think.”
Buffy didn’t respond to that, merely squeezed the redhead’s hand a little tighter.
“I think I’m having a profound moment,” the Slayer murmured.
“Why?”
“I can practically taste Snapple on my tongue, and for the first time... I don’t like it that much.”
Willow stared at her, then let out a hearty laugh, which pulled Buffy with it and soon they were both giggling. They put their arms around each other and calmed down again, both still smiling.
“With the love stuff, you have to find out what’ll make you happy – and do it,” Buffy stated.
Willow met her gaze and after a second’s pause she said:
“You too.”
¤¤¤
He could see Drusilla slipping in and out of the trees surrounding him. She was moving with a speed and sleekness he had never seen on her before, her eyes wide in the manic way he had OFTEN seen on her before.
“It will be too late,” she whispered, suddenly behind him, her hands going around his waist. “Say goodbye.”
He frowned, looking up as the sky was painted with the colors of a rising sun. The pinks spread to gold and purple. Between the trees, far off and where the horizon was a black line, the shining orb was just beginning to show. The light grew brighter and his frown deepened when he could see a figure walking towards him, distorted by the shining rays.
“Buffy?” he asked and then the brightness of the sun poured itself to be contained purely in the smile she was giving him as she approached him.
She was wearing a white, simple dress and barely any make-up but she was more beautiful than he thought he had ever seen her. She took his non-existing breath away completely and he merely stared at her.
She stopped before him, still smiling and with the love she felt for him showing in her green eyes as she rested them in his blue.
“No matter what,” she said, voice soft as she placed one hand against the spot of his heart, “this is where I’ll be.”
In the next moment she turned into a glittering cloud of small stars which all moved forward and fastened themselves all over him, shimmering in the dawn of the day. He stared at them in amazement and then they sunk through his clothes, his skin and continued deep into his flesh, stinging him all over as sharp points of dozens of knives.
Something was seriously wrong.
“I’ll make it all better again,” Buffy’s voice echoed from somewhere indistinct as he drifted into the darkness now surrounding him at all sides. “Trust me.”
¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤
How do I
say goodbye
To what we had
The good times that made us laugh
I wish them back
I thought we gave to see forever
But forever’s gone away
It’s so hard
To say goodbye
To yesterday
-It’s so Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday, BoysIIMen-
¤
Lesson the Forty-Second
¤
“I heard the funniest story,” Buffy mumbled, pulling her fingers through his hair, which was curly in lack of hair-products. “The details are a little fuzzy, but it went something like this: What do you get when you put two blondes together?” She paused for dramatic effect, then finished: “Perfect color-coordination.” She laughed to herself. “See? ‘Cause of the hair and the... hair...” She trailed off, growing serious.
Placing her head on his shoulder she curled up beside him and closed her eyes. It didn’t take very long for her to fall asleep.
She dreamed worried dreams and woke up after the sun had set, blinking as she looked around the room and thought she saw Clara stalking every corner of it. The Slayer’s heart was jumping in her chest and she had to draw a deep breath to calm down. The room was empty, except for the bleached blonde lying on the bed beside her.
She looked at him and lay down again.
“I love you,” she whispered as she looked at his face. “Never doubt that. You have to promise me.”
Then she moved up and planted a soft kiss on his lips.
¤¤¤
“What is this?!” Matthew exclaimed, throwing the papers he had just been handed onto the table and turning to find the messenger.
“Sam sent them,” the young vampire said, the insecurity in his posture seemed to enrage Matthew even further.
“He was supposed to bring them here himself! Do not GAPE, GET him!”
The vampire scurried off just as Theodore stepped into the old shop, which was still used as recon center for the resistance. Now it was filled with vampires, though – all in febrile activity, trying to get all the information and locations straight. Theodore raised his eyebrows as the messenger brushed passed him in non-faked stress to please.
“Go easy on them,” Theodore said and Matthew gave him a glance, then smirked. “You do not want it to turn out as the battle in the Frostica Pass,” he added and Matthew rolled his eyes.
“Every time! Every time you bring that up. Had you taken the troops to the left, as I said...!”
“You said – and I quote – ‘Go to the right if you wish to survive’.”
“It’s nearly one millennia ago now, and I’ve barely messed up in that way since, so could you please let it go and not keep judging me by that one single mistake?”
Theodore smiled.
“I admit you have grown into quite the leader, Matthew,” he stated, coming up to the other.
“If you add an ‘I’m proud of you’ I’ll toss you across the room as though you were tissue paper,” the younger vampire warned and the older laughed.
“I would do nothing of the sort.”
“How’s Maeve?”
Theodore’s face grew stale with grimness and at the sight of it Matthew’s did as well.
“Not too well,” Theodore replied, voice strained. “Now, you told me that you had brought something for me?”
Matthew looked at him, then lit up and nodded.
“And not just something,” he said, gesturing for Theodore to follow him into the adjoining room.
They entered the smaller space; the walls lined with high tables carrying stacks of paper and rolled up maps. Matthew walked up to a leather pouch hanging from a hook on one wall. He reached in a hand and brought out a small box. Theodore’s face showed his growing excitement clearly.
“By the Crest,” he said, unable to hold back a smile. “You managed to retrieve it.”
“I had the unfortunate pleasure of having to cut through a gang of Whedonians to get my hands on it, but at least I managed. I never do get used to their tails... so long and slippery.”
“Yes, and with the nasty tendency to try and dice you into very little pieces,” Theodore nodded, holding up the trinket he had just received and looking more than mildly astonished as he turned it in the dim light.
“One does what one must,” Matthew said. “For the cause,” he added, pausing before he went on: “Now the task falls on you to get it to HER.”
Theodore nodded his acknowledgement.
¤¤¤
There was a knock on the door. Buffy had just finished brushing her hair, putting it up in a ponytail as she said:
“Come in.”
Dawn stepped through the doorway, closing the door again and Buffy smiled a little at her sister, the younger returning it the best she could.
“Hey,” Buffy said.
“Yeah,” Dawn mumbled, her gaze drifting to Spike and her eyes softening. “How’s he doing?”
“Not worse, but not better...” Buffy answered, walking up to the bed and leaning over the vampire, putting a hand lightly against his forehead.
It was strange how she every now and then got a surge of hope that he was actually recovering on his own, that he’d picked up on her desperate plea and realized that he was stronger than the poison. Every time she allowed this hope to gain power over her, however, she was disappointed. This time was no different.
Dawn tentatively joined at her sister’s side and looked down on the bleached blonde.
“I was so angry with him,” she murmured.
“Dawn, it’s not his fault. He has nothing at all to do with this. He couldn’t sway my decision any more than any of you could. Even if he was awake and begged me not to do it...”
“That’s not what I mean,” Dawn stopped her, the formers gaze still on Spike. “I meant... when he came back to Sunnydale. I was so angry... I hated him for... betraying me. For making me believe that there was something... more to him, and then letting me down. I knew that he loved you, in some way, but all the things he did... I knew that wasn’t how love should be. He made so many mistakes...”
“Yes,” Buffy nodded. “He made mistakes, and loads of them – but, Dawn... Look at it this way, he was... fire. Fire doesn’t have to listen to reason and it eats up... okay, bad analogy, but it swallows... isn’t getting any better here... You get what I mean, though. He couldn’t stop what he was because... that’s what he was. It was even WHO he was for a very long time. Fire just continues on its way and that’s what he did and always had done and once he started he couldn’t stop what he destroyed or burned or partially crippled.” Dawn smiled a small smile and Buffy returned it comfortingly. “He cared about you,” she stated. “He did, so much... More than he wanted to admit, I think.”
Dawn looked at him again and then bent down and kissed his forehead gently.
“I think, too,” she said with another smile on.
Buffy hugged her sister and Dawn lingered in the embrace for as long as she could.
“When are you leaving?” she asked and Buffy closed her eyes.
“Early tomorrow morning,” she answered and Dawn nodded as they pulled apart.
“Okay,” she said.
But Buffy knew that it wasn’t. Not okay at all.
¤¤¤
Patrick watched as the mortal and the vampire left the apartment they had spent the night in. He assumed they were going back upstairs. He moved up the wall easily and crouched down by the living room window as the witch went to open the door for the other two. There was an infestation of mortals in the room and he wondered how two vampires who had always seemed fairly practical and not at all mad could have spent so much time with them by their free will.
He shook his head to himself.
It was beyond his ability of understanding.
Soon it was all over with, though. Soon his kin’s glory would claim what was rightfully theirs and rule the earth.
Soon.
¤¤¤
“Buffy.”
“I just wanna lay here for a while, okay?” she asked, not looking up as Angel entered the room.
“You need to eat something.”
“I will,” she promised. “I just wanna stay here for a little while longer.”
He looked at her, about to say something but stopping himself as he watched her close her eyes and rest at the side of the one she loved. He left silently. Buffy lay still for over twenty minutes. Seconds used to take in the scent of Spike, the soft curve of his left thumb, his fingernails – one by one; how his hair felt when she slipped her fingertips through it, his mouth and the gentleness of his lips. She let herself touch him almost carefully, as though afraid to wake him... as though he was sleeping. But really because she had rarely done it like that.
Her hands had usually been rough, hungry, grasping, stroking, eager. Had wanted all of him at once and had never relaxed enough to actually get all of him. At once. Now she took him in piece by piece, her eyes partially closed as she let her mind register what she was feeling, and not what she was doing or watching herself do. She had a partial smile on her lips and in some corner of her thoughts she hoped that he could sense her, and that she was lending him comfort. Easing the pain.
“I wish I could get into your head,” she finally whispered in his ear, moving her head to take in his profile before she planted a tender kiss on his cheek. “Okay, hon, I have to eat breakfast. I’ll be right back, okay?” She gave him another kiss, getting off the bed by swinging herself over him. “See you soon,” she mumbled, about to turn when his hand grabbed her wrist.
She jumped with the fright it caused her, and then her eyes widened as she moved closer to him again. Everything was slowing as she stared at his still unconscious countenance. But his grip was crushing.
“Spike?” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing her free hand on his chest. “Spike, I’m here. Baby...? Open your eyes. Open those eyes of yours and look at me. ... Spike?”
But his hold loosened and then his hand dropped away, making her eyes water with tears and she leaned her head against the hand still on his torso.
“You can’t do that,” she mumbled. “You can’t do things like that...”
¤¤¤
She picked small crumbs of the bread in her hand and put them in her mouth, crushing them between her front teeth and then swallowing them. Xander watched her across the table, Giles observed her from the counter, but she ignored them both. Finally she took a large bite and started chewing it, meeting Xander’s gaze defiantly and he glared back before he suddenly smiled, and she returned it.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, swallowing.
“I’m not inclined to care,” he replied, pushing a cup of what she assumed to be tea her way and she sighed, taking it between her hands and sipping it.
“What’s this?” Angel asked, sitting beside her he had just noticed what marks the left side of her neck wore. “What is this?” he repeated and she shrugged a little.
“It’s nothing,” she replied.
Xander stared at her. She grumbled.
“It was perfectly... innocent. I wanted him to, okay? We weren’t responsible for our actions! It was the atmosphere that did it, and I’m willing to bet money on the princess having a little something to do with it as well,” she stated.
“Spike... did that?” Xander asked and she gave him a look before she stood, taking the tea with her. “I’m not saying anything here! I’m being very quiet,” Xander said in a lowered voice, going back to the paper he was reading.
Angel rose as well, following Buffy into the living room where Cordelia, Dawn and Willow were playing cards – and listening to every word being exchanged in the wall-to-wall room. Buffy sat down on the couch and Angel stopped beside it, unsure of what to say.
“Do you want details?” Buffy asked agitatedly.
“No,” he replied.
“Good, ‘cause frankly they’re none of your business.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
He hesitated, then smiled.
“It’s perfectly understandable.”
“Good.”
“You’re his cookie.”
“Yes...” she trailed off, pausing as the words sunk in and then she smiled widely as she looked up at him where he was still standing.
Suddenly she laughed, got to her feet and put the arm not holding the cup of tea around him in a tight hug. He smirked as she stepped back, touching her cheek gently before he turned and walked back into the kitchen. She felt warm all over, having a sudden swell of love for every being in the apartment move through her. She sat down again, hiding her emotions in the steaming liquid.
Dawn soon joined at her side and Buffy leaned her head against her sister’s shoulder. Dawn smiled, putting her head against the others.
“I forgot your Christmas present,” Dawn confessed and Buffy cocked an eyebrow. “It’s at home on my dresser.”
“Wanna tell me what it was?”
Dawn thought about it for a moment, then replied:
“No.”
¤¤¤
He felt as though he was losing hold on what was real and what was dream. He could have sworn he had had Buffy very close moments before, that he had just been listening to her voice, but now there was nothing but a black hole when he called out her name. She had been walking away and he had tried so hard to stop her... but she had turned into smoke that sent her laughter through the chilled air. It hadn’t been unkind, and he had tried to grab onto the sound of it... only he couldn’t. And it drifted away.
Now he was all alone again. All alone with the snakes biting him all over. He was afraid.
He knew he was dying.
¤¤¤
Buffy closed the door of the room she had used in the apartment, walking up to the closet where she had left a few pieces of clothing she had figured she wouldn’t need at the camp. She opened the door and paused before she reached out and grabbed the hanger which held the beautiful creation Willow had given her in Paris.
The Slayer took it off the hanger and placed it over one arm before leaving the room again. She stepped into Spike’s bedroom, closed the door and leaned against it. She felt fatigued and the sadness didn’t help. She looked over at him and tried to focus on nothing but the love she felt at the sight of him. She smiled a little, putting the dress over the back of a chair and proceeding up to the bed.
She crawled in the manner she had done since he had been placed on it, lying close next to him and resting one cheek against his chest. She brought one of his arms up and tangled her fingers with his to keep his illusionary hold on her from slipping.
“There are so many things I want to do with you,” she said, voice lowered. “I wanna climb to the top of a really high mountain, and swim in a really rough river, and go for really long walks; and scuba dive at the Great Barrier Reef, and sleep on a beach somewhere – where it’s just the two of us...”
She pulled herself up to look at him, smiling again and leaning her forehead against his cheek.
“I wanna grow old with you,” she whispered. “I wanna share everything with you. Silly, simple things like making coffee and meeting up with friends and going out shopping. Try to get that blackness out of your wardrobe for once. I remember you wore a light purple sweater... and you looked really good in it. I’ll have to insist on more purple. And blue... Honey, look at me...” She left it there, not wanting to beg anymore, knowing it was fruitless. “I wanna wake up next to you, and fall asleep in your arms, and make love to you every night... and every morning. And fight for good with you... Wow, this is quite a list we’ve got here, isn’t it? And you haven’t even added your stuff yet... ‘Cause I’m sure you have some... stuff... to add. Let’s see... I think you want to quit smoking.” She giggled. “I’m sorry, but it’s a habit you have to knock off. Sure you look very hot and all, but, hon, it clings to everything! Maybe you’ve never had a reason to care before, but I say that it isn’t bad for you when you’re doing it, and it won’t be bad for you to quit either.” She rolled her eyes. “What am I talking about?” she muttered.
She observed his face in silence for a long while, then kissed his cheek gently. His skin was so warm it felt like he had a fever of 110.
“Poor baby,” she whispered.
She put her head on his shoulder, nestling her nose into his throat.
“I think you want to hold me while we watch movies together – all kinds. I’m not squeamish, you know, I can watch action just as well as the next gal. I think you wanna take me dancing, and I think you wanna buy me flowers from a vender at three o’clock in the morning when we’re rounding up... I was gonna say patrol, but who knows... Maybe we’ll give it up someday. The regular ones, I mean. You know who I am... You once told me you loved me thanks to it.”
She pressed back the tears and breathed in his scent instead.
“I could lie here talking to you about a lot of nothing all night... I could tell you that all I want for us is happiness, and that I know we’ll have that as long as we’re together... It sounds so corny... but look at our history! My God, what were the Powers thinking, huh? Or maybe they had nothing to do with it. Maybe it was the rest of the universe that said ‘Heh, that would be interesting’... What would I have done if I’d never met you? I would have been a lot saner for a lot of years... but then, when I thought there was no way I could go on with anything, when I needed you the absolute most... there you always were. Ready to make me... feel...and want to... be. Just be there. If I’d only loved you then. I think I did. I’ve thought about it for so long, Spike, and somewhere I did love you. But I couldn’t let myself. I just couldn’t see beyond... I couldn’t understand how you could mean so much too me. How I could get jealous of people being close to you when I wasn’t – and didn’t want to be. I was such a moron! Yes, I was, there’s no use arguing.”
She smirked, kissing his chest and sighing with defeat.
“And now comes the hard part,” she grumbled. “Letting you go.”
She looked up, taking in his chin and cheek and what she could see of his nose and one shut eye.
“Meet me in my sleep, my love...” she whispered, placing her head back in its original position.
Then she closed her eyes.
¤¤¤
Willow woke Buffy up at sunrise.
The Slayer had breakfast alone, sitting on the balcony and watching as the ball of fire slowly came to claim the sky. She took in all the colors, all the shades, all the gentle nuances and let life embrace her. She enjoyed every sip of her tea and every bite of her sandwich.
She couldn’t remember if she had dreamt the night before, but the sense of tranquility within her made her certain that she had.
She showered and dressed, pulling her hair back in a ponytail again and grabbing the backpack she had prepared. It contained her journal, a few pictures of her with the Gang and the dress. She walked up to where Spike’s duster was placed and brought it into her arms, taking a deep breath of his scent and softly scratching her cheek against the worn leather.
Putting it back she turned to the bed and hesitated.
This was goodbye.
She swallowed, then approached him.
Sitting down at the edge of the bed she looked at him for the longest while, memorizing details that already were imbedded in her thoughts. The curve of his lower lip, the scar at his eyebrow, the marked chin and cheeks, the soft lilt of his lashes.
She reached out a trembling hand and let her fingertips touch his mouth before she let her upper body follow and allowed her lips to grace his. She put her cheek to his and said into his ear:
“The next time we meet, you’ll know what to do.”
She rose with one last look at him and silently left the room.
On the bedside table she had placed her stake.