Title: Paper Dolls (The Evil Within - Chapter 19) Author: Nimue Rating: PG -13 Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included. Feedback: Yes, please Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma, who belongs to Buffy and Spike) Summary: D'Hoffryn presents his deal to Anya, but can she accept his terms? Buffy presses William for answers about what is to come. Spike departs on his journey to find Buffy, but will it be in time to save her? To save Emma?

Paper Dolls

"W...What kind of offer?" Anya asked, staring up at the looming form of D'Hoffryn.

"Well," the demon began, his fingertips drumming against each other. "For this to end, for the child and her mother to survive..."

"Her mother? Buffy's fine. She was on patrol with Spike," Anya countered, confused.

"She was wounded by the Octycyrax," D'Hoffryn answered flatly. "She's in the In Between."

Anya gasped, her hand clapping over her mouth. "She's.. In Between? Oh God. Who summoned the Octycyrax?"

"The same that now hold Emma and will soon return for you," the demon said quietly.

"Me? Why?"

"Because you were there at the First."

Anya thought a moment, mentally flipping through knowledge until she struck upon what she needed. "I'm only just over a thousand," she sighed, insulted. "Do I look *that* old?"

D'Hoffryn shook his head. "Your soul, Anyanka. Your immortal soul. Before you were the scorned girl I found. Your soul was there."

Anya was silent, tugging nervously at her hair as tears dried in salty rivers on her cheeks. "How? Why? I mean, Buffy and Spike are the Chosen Ones. They were those divided and destined to be joined. What do I have to do with anything?"

"They are," D'Hoffryn agreed. "But to every child, there is a Mother."

Anya was silent, trying to process the information despite her overwhelmed emotional state. "That... that's preposterous," she said, indignant.

"Call it what you will, Anyanka, but it is your past and your future," D'Hoffryn corrected, flatly.

"I don't suppose it matters much at this point." She sighed, rolling tighter into herself and letting her stare fall to her knees.

"No," he said softly. "Anyanka," he began again. Compassion finally filled his voice, like a father pleading with his child. "You will likely die tonight."

The woman looked up at him with large, wet eyes. There was no fear. No anger. Merely sorrow and acceptance. She nodded in understanding.

"My offer," he continued, crouching next to her huddled form, "Will give you the opportunity to remain in your world, if you please." He brushed the hair tenderly from her tearstained cheeks.

"What is it?" Anya sniffled.

"Fate will call for a sacrifice in order to save the child. Much like the 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' bit in a wedding. No one ever takes Fate up on it. You shall."

"How? I mean if Fate chooses?"

"Will it, Anyanka. You have always been a powerful girl."

She smiled briefly at the compliment. "And then what?"

"In that, you will have to have faith in me. Can you do that?" The fatherly tone was still strong in his voice.

Again, she nodded, her face frightened but resolved.

"In exchange, you will return to my... employment. As you are dear to me, Anyanka, I will let you remain where you are, but you will have to perform your duties as required."

"I understand," Anya whispered, clutching her knees closer to her chest. "If I... If I die, then Emma will be alright?"

"They will have to release her. Willing sacrifice is irrefutable."

"And you know of no other way?" Anya said, eyes still trained on her knees.

"Not without the child's mother dying. And she cannot be saved without the child." He was silent a moment. "No, Anyanka, there is no other way."

Anya wiped her eyes with a flurry of her nervous hands. "Then I consent."

"You will die for the child?" D'Hoffyrn asked, touched and a little surprised by her sincerity and her sacrifice.

"If that is what I have to do."

"Then you will be rewarded."

With that, he faded back into the shadows, leaving her huddled on the cold, stone floor.

*****

The sun was setting in a rose gold splash of light over the edge of the Earth. At least what looked like the Earth to Buffy from her seat on the shore. She stared at the splendor, her body feeling full and alive again. She would find a way back. She had to. Still, a sadness filled her. For the man sitting next to her in the sand. The one Spike had left behind and she would soon leave behind as well.

Somehow, she knew he'd still be around. He was always part of Spike.

When she looked back at him, he was still studying her with cautious, smiling eyes. She grinned at him. A look that made his heart break and burst at the same time. Rarely, did William regret not being human as Heaven had been kind to him. Right then, he would have given up that peace just to be near her always.

Maybe there was a way.

He thought of the secrets he had shared with her and smiled. Maybe there was a second chance.

"So," Buffy said, her arms crossed protectively over her belly, almost huddling against the evening chill. "Do you know a lot about the future?"

William blinked, not sure how to answer the question. He bought himself a moment as he draped his jacket over her shoulders. "Some," he finally responded. "But I have told you too much already." His words were punctuated with a shy, quiet smile. "Besides, the future is fluid. Ever changing."

"Are we alive in the future?" Buffy asked, staring at a snow-white dove gliding over their heads.

"If we all do what we are meant to. If we fight and sacrifice and love."

"Spike? Emma?" Buffy was quiet for a long moment. "My family?"

He smiled at her once again, a sort of proxy, paternal pride rushing through him. "If Fate swings our way, then yes. We just have to believe."

Buffy thought for a moment. "What happens to you?" She looked at his face again, her hair blowing gently in the breeze. He absently brushed strands from her cheeks.

"I go back to Heaven," William answered simply. But there was more to the tone. A sort of resignation.

"Forever?" Buffy asked, as if eternity wasn't necessarily eternal.

"Or until the Powers decide that another body should have my soul," he answered, hooking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

"They can do that?" Her nose crinkled again, eliciting a grin from William.

"Recycling of souls. Sooner or later, we all go back. Have another go round. At least those of us who aren't the One," he chided. She giggled, watching the last of the sun sink, leaving only dim twilight. "Those of us who play less pivotal roles get to rest a spell, then are sent back."

"Do you want to go back, William?" she asked, tenderly, returning her gaze to his.

"Maybe," he answered. "Under the right circumstances. Maybe I will."

Buffy smiled softly. It was Joyce's smile this time. "You should look us up," she snarked. "You know, the nice couple down the street. Yes, he is a Vampire and yes she kills his kind, but they have a cute little girl who will save the world."

William's turn to chuckle. "I think I'd like it there."

"You should come by."

"I just might."

*****

Spike lay on his side next to Buffy, his arm draped over her slender waist and his face buried in her hair. It felt good to be near her, even if she wasn't completely there. Hearing the steady, slow thump of her heart, the gentle rise and fall of her breast as she breathed, gave him hope. He closed his eyes, trying once again to find her. Trying to reach into the vast darkness and pull her back by force alone. But still, she was gone.

"I have to have you back, Love," he whispered, his eyes drifting open. Softly, he nuzzled her cheek. "I need you here."

The door clicked open and hissed gently against the carpet. "You ready, Spike?" Tara's voice was soft and kind. She shut the door and padded over to the bed.

"Yeah," he answered simply.

Tara began to walk a slow circle around the bed. She had asked Spike to pull it from the wall enough that she could walk behind it. Surrounding it in protective magic and power. The girl walked thrice around, chanting quietly and sprinkling salt in her path. She then returned to the bed, settling on the edge.

"You understand," Tara began softly, "That you can only go there to find out if she knows anything. To make sure she's alright. You can't get her out Spike. Both of you will die if you try."

Spike contemplated that thought a moment. Dying didn't seem quite as horrid a fate as living here without her. But then there was Emma. Someone needed to stay with her, to raise her. Little tyke deserved to have her parents. Both of them. "Right," Spike answered.

"Tell me you understand, Spike," Tara pleaded. "Tell me if I send you there that you'll be able to leave her. It's your only chance."

Spike swallowed. Leaving her alone. Not something he wanted to face. But if it would save her... Emma. "I understand."

Tara looked at him with concern, but nodded quietly. "Lay down on your back, your palms facing up," Spike complied as Tara arranged Buffy in the same manner. Buffy's left hand, the one still wearing the moonstone ring, brushed Spike's right. He let his thumb hook hers, needing to feel connected again. Even for a moment. Tara smiled. They looked like ragged paper dolls.

"Come on, then," Spike huffed impatiently. "Need to find her."

"Patience," Tara cooed, gently plucking a long, blonde hair from Buffy's head. Spike twinged and looked at the Witch with eyebrow raised.

"What'ya do that for?"

"To connect you to her body. It's a tether and a lead," Tara answered, gently laying the hair across both of their outstretched palms and tucking their hands closed into fists. "It's part of her. It will tie you to her in this world and lead you to her in the In Between. You'll see." She smiled that comforting, warm smile, and Spike tried to settle.

"Just relax," she whispered, placing her hand atop their closed fists.

"Great Mother, these two are bound in all Worlds. One heart, One soul, One body, One mind. Flesh to flesh, blood to blood, soul to soul. Connect them." Spike felt a pinprick against his thumb and felt Tara press his flesh to Buffy's. "Lead them back to One." There were more words, but Spike felt his skin tingle and thrum with energy. His ears lost track of her voice, his mind drifting, wandering as if falling into exhausted sleep.

*****

Spike's eyes shot open and he found himself standing in a room. It was filled with soft light. He looked down at himself and saw more, soft whiteness. On his body was a pair of fitted white slacks and a loose white button down, tucked neatly into the waist. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his skin tanned and his feet barefoot against the cool, white floor.

"Could have picked a better sodding wardrobe," Spike grumbled, annoyed at the choice of Ever After wear.

He lifted his hands to his face and saw a glimmer in the white glow of the room. As thin as spider webs, shining, beautiful, silver strands coiled themselves around each of his wrists. The one on his left led back behind him, under a plain white door. The one on his right led forward through another door. He plucked the silver thread before him and it hummed melodically, almost like a harp string. Spike shrugged, walking forwards towards the door. "Not always subtle in the Afterlife."

Spike took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

A vast meadow opened up in front of him, full of daisies and wild violets. He stepped into the grass, feeling his bare feet sink into the soft turf. There were no rough edges, no sharp stones, or broken sticks. Just perfect, lush grass dotted with wild flowers.

It was twilight. The purple-blue moments after the sun dips down below the Earth but before the moon rises to light her again. A breeze blew gently across the meadow, making the daisies nod their heads and the leaves on the trees to his right rustle quietly. It was peaceful here. Tranquil.

The smell of the sea in the distance drew him forward, and the tiny silver thread grew taut. It shimmered a rainbow of muted blues in the twilight. Sparkling and incandescent. Soft. Like her.

Spike felt his heart thump in his chest as he walked, following the dancing silver thread. He could sense her here. Not like he could in their world. Not by smell or sound of even by touching her mind. But more of a whisper of her in the air. A little innate sense of her that both calmed him and excited him. He walked at the same steady pace, afraid to disturb the tranquility and lose the feeling. Lose her.

There was something else as well, Spike thought as he walked through the soft, perfect grass. Familiar things all around him. Nothing he could see or hear or taste, but familiar all the same. Cherished. Missed. Loved. Lost. All around him.

The thread began to hum in the gentle breeze. Not just a single note, but an entire symphony of hushed sound. Barely audible but utterly beautiful. Spike wanted to throttle himself for being so enraptured by the beauty of the place. The subtle nuances of the landscape. The soothing sounds and comforting smells. "Bloody poet," he grumbled to himself. "Making me all weepy at the sodding ambiance."

Then something occurred to him and he stopped, a tingle winding up his spine to the base of his skull. Spike stopped, closing his eyes and opening his mind, searching for her, reaching. Like a child lost in the dark, he searched, and like the same child found, relief filled him was he felt her. Her thoughts were steady, her heart beating, her movements quiet and gentle. Spike could feel her contentment, her peace, but also that sense of determination that only she could exude. Like a wolverine protecting pups. So did the Slayer protect her own.

He was jogging now, no longer needing the humming strand to guide him. She grew inside of him, blossomed, became whole and real and new. It was like racing home. His legs pumped to the rhythm of his heart. The smell of her, of vanilla and jasmine, grew stronger with every stride. She grew stronger. More resolute. So close, he thought, his mind, body, soul, screaming in need. He needed her. Wanted her. Loved her.

The strand jerked taut again as the grass met the sand and Spike stopped, staring out onto the perfect white sand beach. The moon began to rise, full and fertile on the horizon. Heavy and rich and beautiful. Spike could feel her everywhere now, inside and out. He longed for her. Desperate need consuming him. Need to apologize, need to make it right, need to hold her, to be held, to find a way to bring her back to...

His thoughts were cut short as he caught site of two figures down the beach. One sat still in the sand, knees drawn up, head craned towards Spike. The second stood, scanning the beach and starting his way, glowing, like some sort of angel in the moon's first light.

Spike began to walk towards the figures, slowly at first. But as the standing figure moved towards him, and the silver strand pulled tighter against his skin, he ran. There weren't any words. There was no, one, distinct emotion. relief, happiness, regret, sorrow, love, fear, lust, need, all melding together as her face became defined in the pale moonlight. Her perfect, unmarked face. No scars or bruises or welts or any of the horrors he put her though.

"Spike?" It was almost a whimper of relief. The sitting figure stood and began slowly towards them. A slow shamble of a walk.

Spike never answered her call. As soon as he could get close enough to reach her, he caught her wrist and pulled her to him, clinging to her like a drowning man to a life preserver, raining kisses down on her face in every place he could put them. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers twirling the curls on the back of his neck. Her mouth hungrily found his with a force and fervor that she had forgotten she possessed. She wanted to devour him, crawl inside of him, pull him into her until they were One again.

Spike pulled her gently away, resting a palm on her cheek. "Buffy." It was a breathless word, full of need and desire. "Buffy, I'm so sorry. I..." The tears were spilling down his cheeks, breaking her heart. She leaned up on her toes and began to kiss them away one by one.

"Spike," she answered quietly, her breath blowing soft against his cheeks. "It's not your fault."

"But you and.... Buffy, Emma is.."

"We'll get her back," she interrupted, kissing his lips as softly as butterfly wings.

"How... how did you know?" Spike asked, catching her eyes in his.

"I've had help here," Buffy answered, turning and molding herself to Spike's side, under his strong arm. She wrapped hers around his waist.

The chestnut haired man stood in front of them, hands behind his back. His head hung down towards the sand. He looked sad, standing alone in the moonlight. Slowly, his raised his head to face them.

Spike blinked, staring at the man, then back at Buffy. Buffy smiled softly at her lover. "Spike, I think you remember William."

To be contd....

Title: Ever After (The Evil Within - Chapter 20) Author: Nimue Rating: PG -13 Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included. Feedback: Yes, please Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma, who belongs to Buffy and Spike) Summary: Giles is given information on how Emma can be saved, but can he do what he will have to to save her? Willow, Xander and Cyrus figure out a way to get Spike to Emma, but will Spike be up to the task? Will he be willing to pay the price? Buffy and Spike are reunited in the In Between, but Spike is forced to face his past in William.



Ever After

The sorceress laid the child gently on a stone palate next to the fire. Emma laid still, clutching her rabbit but otherwise motionless in the dim, orange glow. Giles stared at her. Bravery knows no age, he thought. She didn't fuss or scream, just laid patiently. Waiting.

Quentin watched the baby for a moment with a hungry sort of satisfaction, and then turned his attention to Giles. The seething hatred on old Rupert's face was almost pleasure enough for the whole evening. Almost. "Mistress Lenora," Quentin said, with a grandiose air about him. "Please prepare for the ceremony. I will be back in a moment."

The woman nodded, shifting back into the ancient hag right in front of the toddler. Emma jumped, a little choked gasp escaping her lips as the form in front of her changed. She quickly settled again. Waiting. Quentin stalked out of the room, fat with pride and victory. The sorceress began to chant.

Giles closed his eyes, squeezing back tears of anger and frustration. His head banged heavily against the cold stone. This cannot happen, he thought. She cannot die.

"She doesn't have to," a voice said quietly, as if reading the Watcher's thoughts. Giles' eyes shot open, but there was no one. Nothing. As if the voice had arisen from the shadows themselves.

"W..who are you?" Giles muttered.

"Do not speak," the gentle, yet commanding, voice whispered. It was a male voice, vaguely familiar, but not one Giles could place. Giles nodded, swallowing. His throat burned from the smoke and ash.

"To save the child, the mother must die. You must kill her," the voice said into his ear.

"B..Buff..." escaped from Giles' lips before his jaw snapped shut at the remembrance of the caution.

"Either the child's own mother or the Mother of the One. The Mother at the First. Fate will choose her this night. You will kill her."

Giles swung his head around, searching for the owner of the voice. His jaw dropped open and clicked shut once again. He shook his head vehemently. No killing, he thought. No death.

"There will be death. The Slayer. The Peacemaker. The Mother. It's your choice," the voice answered. Giles shook his head again, tears starting to slip down his face.

"If you do what I tell you, you can keep them all," it continued. "I can save the Mother, although her mortal soul will perish. She is the only one I can help. If the Vampire cannot find his mate and bring her home, the child will die. If the child dies, the Slayer can never be returned. All that is left is letting them die or trusting me."

The Watcher swallowed again, feeling raw and drained and beaten. What kind of choices are these?, he questioned to himself. There must be another way.

"There is no other way," the voice countered, hearing Giles' thoughts. "Do you consent?"

The hanged man was silent, thinking. No way out. Slowly, he nodded.

"Through the sorceress, the Fates will choose a token sacrifice. It will be the Mother. They will choose her mate to kill her in order to stop the ceremony and spare the child. As you were her mate at the First, they will hand the dagger to you. An ivory handled weapon with a ruby red eye and a dragon coiled around. The mark of Draconius. They will not expect you to comply. It is merely a necessary formality of the rite. You must do this. Kill her with the dagger of Draconius. But her death cannot be instant. You must strike her so that death is slowed. If you do this, I can save her. Do you understand?"

Tears slid steadily down Giles' face. He knew the Mother. It was a woman that he had faced in this life and those past. Even if he was unsure of the woman's current identity, she was someone he knew. Killing... killing anyone, but especially eyes you have looked upon with care, even with love, was unfathomable.

"Watcher, this is your only opportunity. The sacrifice must be willing. She has accepted this fate and is ready. If you fail in this, the child and the Slayer both will die. The choice is yours."

With that, the voice slipped away into the shadows.

*****

Spike blinked.

What in bloody hell?, he thought.

He swallowed.

"Hello, Old Friend," William said politely, a little pleased with the stunned reaction of his doppelganger. He held out his hand.

"You?" Spike gasped. "Me... Buffy..." His stunned wordlessness made Buffy giggle.

"The shock wears off in a minute," she said cheerfully, forcibly lifting Spike's right hand to William's. Spike shook mindlessly.

"What are *you* doing here?" Spike asked, trying to come to grips with seeing his former self in the flesh. His flesh.

"I was sent here," William responded. "To watch after Buffy."

Spike pulled Buffy closer so that her body molded to his. The possessiveness of the gesture was not lost on the others. "Mine," he almost snarled.

"She is," William said softly. "And for that, you should be grateful."

Spike eased his grip on Buffy, who was watching the exchange with a sort of surreal amusement. "Buffy, what'd this wanker tell you 'bout me?"

"He's not a 'wanker'?" Buffy responded, trying to mimic Spike's accent. The attempt made both men cringe. "He's actually a lot like you."

William smiled. Spike cringed again.

"Don't *ever*..." Spike began, utterly offended. He looked down at Buffy's pretty, sparkling eyes and suddenly, none of it mattered. "Bloody hell," he whispered, defeated. "You alright, Pet?" His strong fingers delicately stroked her cheeks with more tenderness than Buffy could bear.

"I'm OK," she answered. "Just want to go home."

William looked down again. Knowing that something was for the best and *feeling* that way were utterly different things. He could not help but think that if it had been her and not Cecily, they would both be in Heaven now and he'd have never felt so completely alone.

"Are you hurt?" Spike asked, running his hands over her arms and sides, as if taking inventory of all her parts.

"Physically, I'm great," Buffy answered. "Better than great," she added, flashing William a knowing smile. He returned it warmly, then shook his head almost imperceptibly. Buffy nodded slightly in response. Now was not the time. "I take it that I'm not doing well at home?"

Spike was quiet, seeing her battered body in his mind. He shuddered, shaking his head to clear the image. "No, Love. But you'll heal. We just need to get you back there."

William stared at them for a moment, watching Spike look at her. So much love. So much beauty. It was nearly impossible to want to give her back, but if he had to, he was glad that at least the part of Spike that had been his, loved her as much as he would have. "The night's a bit brisk," William said, rubbing his arms against the chill. "Shall we head back to the house?"

Spike cringed at the way the words sounded. The sickly sweet politeness of the old ways. Was I that much of a poof?, he thought? "House?" he asked, instead.

"C'mon," Buffy answered, turning them back towards the meadow. William walked up next to her on the opposite side, but kept his distance. She was his.

*****

Willow descended the stairs and headed into the kitchen. Cyrus and Xander were both at the counter, piles of books and steaming mugs of coffee littering the surface in front of them.

"Study party?" Willow asked, stretching her arms and yawning.

"Trying to locate the child," Cyrus answered, hurriedly flipping through pages of notes. Willow walked to the coffee maker and poured a cup, then set about making another pot. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was flying through option after option. Times like this, she wished she still had power.

"How's Dawnie?" Xander asked, looking up at Willow with tired and worried eyes.

"Asleep," Willow answered. "The cut was pretty clean and straight so the stitches were easy. Sill, I wish she would've let me take her to the doctor. Hello, just got accepted to med school. Not a doctor yet."

"I'm sure you did great, Will," Xander said, mustering a smile. "Any word on..."

"They're still in there," Willow answered. "Can't break the circle or the spell goes *poof*."

"Oh," Xander commented, nodding. "Is Spike going... you think he's going to be OK to go after Emma when he comes out of it?"

Willow was silent. Magic of this nature did take a lot out of a person. "He's a Vampire," Willow answered. "Not to mention that this is Buffy and his daughter we're talking about. I think we'd agree that he'd fight until he couldn't stand then lay there on the ground insulting everyone until someone gave 'em back."

Xander snorted. "Yeah. Probably right."

"I hate to interrupt but said Vampire will be none too pleased if we haven't located his little girl prior to his return. So, shall we?" Cyrus gushed, nervous at the thought of making no progress by the time Spike came back from the In Between.

Willow planted herself on a stool across from them, picking up a stack of books, and then deciding that she needed fuel before embarking on the quest for knowledge. The girl got back up and headed for the refrigerator, scanning the contents for anything that looked remotely appealing.

Then it dawned on her.

Blood.

"Blood," Willow said, loud enough to make both men's head turn.

"Will, is there something you forgot to tell me?" Xander asked, quirking his eyebrows at her.

"No. Blood. How we find Emma!" She shut the fridge door with an enthusiastic rattle of jars.

"I'm afraid I'm not following," Cyrus said, shaking his head at Willow.

"Dawn's blood opened the portal in Emma's room. Where the carpet is burned. Wouldn't it make sense that the same blood in the same place would open the same portal?"

Cyrus and Xander thought a moment. Overlook the obvious much?

"Dawn's lost a lot of blood," Xander commented. "Could she survive it?"

Willow thought a moment, her eyes blinking steadily to the rhythm of her heart. No arteries had been cut. Dawn had lost quite a bit of blood, but no more than giving blood at school. "Remember when Buffy went to find Spike? Anya said..."

The sound of her name made Xander wince. Part of him was furious with her and the other part desperately feared for her life. Story of their relationship, really. Pride mixed with embarrassment.

"... it would only take a few drops to open a portal."

"Then why did she cut Dawn like that?" Xander asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Cyrus looked at the boy with compassion. "She wasn't Anya then, Xander. Not your Anya. She had been taken by the Evil. Remember that."

Xander nodded, trying to keep his aching head from exploding. A nagging thought kept creeping through his mind. Anya is gone. She's not coming back. Not my Anya. She won't ever be Anya again.

"I don't think Spike will be fond of the idea of taking more of Dawn's blood," Cyrus added. "He considers the girl flesh to him. He's lost quite a bit this night and I'm not sure he'd be willing to risk even the slimmest possibility of hurting the last of his family."

Willow sat down, toying with her coffee mug. Taking a sip. Setting the mug down. "I'm not big with the whole deception thing, but do you think it would work if I took it ahead of time and we just tell Spike we thought of it before I stitched Dawnie up? I mean, only if Dawn agrees.."

Xander looked at Willow with a mixture of contempt and relief. As if he'd thought of it but was afraid to say the words. "Would it work... like that?"

"Provided that Spike returns fairly soon and sets off after Emma. But do you think lying to him is the best course of action?" Cyrus pointed out.

"No," Willow answered flatly. "But do you see giving him another major decision to make right now as helping the cause much? I mean, do you see another way to get her back? And do you see him keeping it together having to make the choice to hurt Dawn? He's pretty much done for in the emotional department as it is."

Cyrus thought of the Vampire's worn face and hair trigger during their earlier talk in the kitchen. What would this decision do to his already fragile state of being? "Alright," Cyrus agreed. "But *only* with the girl's consent and you will have to do it right before it is time to open the portal."

"OK," Willow said, rising again. "I'll go and talk to her. Be ready when Spike comes back."

Both men nodded in unison. Willow poured a glass of juice for Dawn, picked up her mug, and headed back up the stairs.

*****

"I'm glad you're here," Buffy whispered, pushing herself impossibly closer to Spike as they walked. William was ahead of them now, leading them back through the moonlit meadow.

"I'm glad you're alright, Pet." He was silent for a long moment. "Buffy, you know... God, I should have never left you there."

"You had too."

"I didn't. The spell had already been passed by then. Willow wasn't the Evil. I left you there for nothing." His face was tortured, guilt spreading fine lines around his eyes and mouth.

"You didn't know, Spike. You had to make a choice. You made the right one," she said quietly, her fingers stroking his back.

"How can you say that when you are here and Emma..." Spike questioned, staring down at her. His eyes looked heavy. Exhausted. Buffy was quiet, walking slowly in stride with him, her head tucked against his chest.

"You will find Emma and I'll get back," she answered. "I have to. For Emma and for you and..." her voice trailed off. "We'll find a way."

Spike stroked her hair gently, feeling at peace, but afraid of it. Knowing he had to leave. Had to leave her here.

"Buffy, you know I can't stay, Love. And if I take you, we both die."

"I know," she answered, quietly.

"We don't have much time. Did he tell you anything?" Spike asked, nodding at William. "Cyrus said that there were spirits that could cross. That they may be able to tell me how to bring you back."

Buffy smiled. "He told me a lot of things."

The Vampire cringed, thinking of he might've said to a girl back in the days of the bloody awful poet. "Hope he hasn't soured you on me, Pet."

"He's sweet," Buffy answered, feeling Spike cringe at the word.

"Sweet?" Spike huffed, indignant. "Bloody poof."

William heard the last words and turned on a heel to face them. "I'll have you know.."

"I'll have you know..." Spike mimicked, bobbing his head back and forth. "Isn't mother expecting you?"

"Spike!" Buffy snapped, slapping Spike's bum. It was the closest part of him to her hand at the time. "Behave. He's taken good care of me here."

"Waz that mean?" Spike snorted, possessively, his lower class accent becoming stronger by the moment.

"Give it a rest," she sighed, frustrated at what seemed to be sibling rivalry.

"Simply took the lady for a walk on the shore and talked to her. I *am* a gentleman," William commented. Spike answered with a smirk.

"I don't doubt that," Spike snarked. Somewhere, he worried that William was the part of him that she really loved. That she really wanted. And if he left her here long enough, she might not want to come home.

"Spike! Enough!" Buffy snarled. "He's been very kind and he's been trying to help me get home. Home? Remember with you. Where I want to be. Alright?" She looked at him, her frustration not able to hide her love. Her desire.

Spike smiled slyly down at his love. Even then her eyes were hungry and dark with need. But she settled for a kiss and a squeeze of the hand. Time was short.

"Now, lay off William. He's really been good to me and we owe him a lot."

Spike grumbled a moment before relenting, nodding at Buffy. "Alright, Love. In the interest of getting you back, I'll play nice." Spike sighed. "Poof," he added under his breath. Couldn't let her get the final word.

A quiet answer came from ahead. "Wanker."

To be contd.

Title: Countdown (The Evil Within - Chapter 21)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG -13

Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma, who belongs to Buffy and Spike)

Summary: William explains to Spike what will have to happen to save Buffy. A conversation between the two of them finally mends the chasm between old and new. Spike is brought back and readies to embark upon the search for his daughter. But will he be in time to save her?



Countdown

The door to the house on the tree line opened before William had even reached the front step. Joyce stood in the doorway, nervously chewing on her fingernails and pacing like a caged bird. "William, where were you? There's not much time. We need to figure..." Her words trailed off as she saw her daughter start up the walk, tucked neatly under Spike's arm.

Spike stopped in his tracks at the sight of her. The one person who had shown him real, human compassion in even his darkest days. He stood in the walk, blinking up at her with almost childlike, wide, blue eyes.

"Spike?" Joyce gasped, still standing in the doorway. Buffy smiled up at him as he nodded, speechless. Joyce rushed down the walk as Buffy let go of her love, moving over next to William.

"Spike, how did you..." she began, embracing the Vampire as if he were her own blood. He felt himself tearing, feeling her arms around her. Didn't realize how much he missed her until he saw her once again.

"Had to find her, Joyce. Have to get her home," he whispered into her hair. The same smell of vanilla surrounded her that graced Buffy and their daughter. A comforting, familiar scent that somehow made everything bearable.

Joyce pulled from the embrace. "We'll take care of her, Spike. But there's not much time. They have Emma and the spell has begun."

Immediately, Spike's heart began to thump in his chest as if he'd run a marathon. His face blanked and all of the tranquility of the In Between began to squeeze in around him like a vice. Buffy had not heard her mother's comment. She had followed William into the house, leaving Spike alone with Joyce on the walk.

"Listen to me, Spike. Her voice snapped him from his fear and anger. She planted her hands on his shoulders and trapped his eyes in hers. "We need to go inside and figure a way through this. It's not Buffy's time yet. She has more reasons that you know to get back. But you can't lose control now, alright?" Spike nodded, listening to her, watching her lips form words and feeling them smack into him like a physical blow. "Emma isn't alone and it *can* be stopped, but we need to do things the *right* way, not the first way that comes to mind."

She knew him better than he thought. His first reaction was to grab Buffy and plunge through the doors, taking his chances with impending doom and forcing their way back into their world. But she was right. Impulsivity would be the death of them. Literally.

"We can't upset her now. We can't let her give up," Joyce finished. Spike studied her face. It was comforting and soft. Pretty, wise eyes gazed at him, almost eye level. She smiled at him softly. That gesture alone almost made it alright. Joyce had been all but a perfect mum... to both of them.

"Right then," Spike said, mustering as much bravado as he could. "Tell me what to do."

*****

Spike was tucked into the love seat next to Buffy, her hand enveloped in his. The thought of letting go of that warmth, that solace, was enough to send him into a raging oblivion, but he fought his nature and just held on. William sat on a chair across from them, sleeves rolled to his elbows, leaning over with his arms braced on his knees. Like a doctor giving a couple news. Good or bad was all in how one looked at it.

"So, what you're telling me is that there's not really anything we can do?" Spike said, frustrated with the facts that William had laid before him. Joyce came in, setting tea in front of Buffy and William, and hot chocolate with the little sodding marshmallows in front of Spike. He almost smiled, nodding his appreciation at Joyce as she nervously paced out of the room.

"There is and there isn't," William corrected. "I think that it has been agreed that Buffy needs to go back," he continued, a note of regret in his tone. "So, her death is not a viable option in saving Emma."

"I would say not," Spike huffed, indignantly.

Buffy squeezed Spike's hand. "Hear him out, Spike. He's trying to help us."

Spike sighed, closing his eyes a moment and gathering his thoughts. "I know. Just don't need to waste time on the bloody obvious." He turned his attention back to William. "What else?"

"The equally non-viable option is to let Emma perish. *None* of us would stand for that, so all that leaves us is blood sacrifice."

"Whose blood?" Spike asked. "If all they want is death to stop his, then I will die for them."

William was silent. He knew his twin told the truth. William himself would have died for love. More readily than he had died for lack of it. "I think that Buffy would find that option equally repugnant," William commented. "And it won't do much to reunite your family, so I would ask that you avoid dying at all costs."

Spike looked at William, a half smile breaking on the Vampire's face. "So, what then? I'm assuming you have this all sussed out."

"The Fates will choose a sacrifice. The sacrifice must be willing. If this chosen soul will give his or her life in return for the child, the ritual ends and the child is freed."

Spike was silent for a long moment. "Will I have to kill them?" he asked, hesitantly. "I will if I haf to but I had broken that nasty habit."

Buffy looked at Spike, studying his expression. It amazed her every day how much he had changed. She had no doubt that Spike would do what he had to in order to save Emma, but voicing reservation about killing a human was a new twist.

"You may," William answered softly. "It is up to the Fates, and to Draconius."

Spike looked at Buffy. Her face was worn, but resolute. He couldn't lose her, no matter what the task. He couldn't lose his child. Killing had once been his nature, and if he had to revive that demon he would, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"I don't find the concept particularly pleasant either," William interjected. "But were I in your shoes, I would have to say that the risk was well worth it, both for the sake of your family, and the sake of the world in which you live." William stared at Buffy for a moment, then back to Spike.

The Vampire nodded, understanding what William had offered.

Absolution. Absolution from a creature of Heaven.

"What happens then?" Spike asked quietly.

"If the sacrifice is willing and complete, the child will be freed. To save Buffy, you will have to reach her with the child before her mortal body fails. Emma will be able to save her in the >Peacemaker's name as she did with you, provided you reach her before her heart takes its last beat."

Spike swallowed, thinking of the slow, empty thud of her heart. The bruising and countless wounds and broken ribs. He looked over to the woman next to him, so solid, alive, vibrant. Spike wanted her back. Needed her. "How do I get there?"

"Go home," William answered simply. "Then follow the trail they left. You will enter through the same portal by using the Key."

"Dawn?" Buffy asked, sitting forwards in the chair

"She will not be harmed," William answered. "Once you have the child, the portal home will open on it's own. Take the immortal with you as he will know the way."

"Cyrus?" Spike asked, taking in a sharp breath. "He's not involved in what happened to Emma?"

William sat back, crossing his legs. "Not in the way that you are thinking. He's an immortal, but on the side of good. He fought with our father, Spike. And with many good men before him. But there is no time for stories. It has begun."

"What has?" Buffy stuttered. Spike looked at William with pleading eyes. Begging him not to upset her further. William nodded, reading his thoughts.

"The countdown," William answered. "Spike's time here is short."

Buffy looked up at her lover, her eyes filling with hurt and loneliness. The expression made Spike's heart fall in two. He wanted to take her. Or to stay in this place. Never leave her alone. Keep that promise.

"William, speak to you alone?" Spike asked, squeezing Buffy's hand and leaning in to kiss her nose. "Be right back, Pet,"

Buffy nodded up at him, her overwhelming fear and dread flooding into his mind and weighting his legs with lead.

*****

"What is it, Spike?" William asked, curiosity lacing his tone. He closed the front door behind them, leaving them alone on the porch. As Spike looked around, it dawned on him that it was Buffy's porch. Theirs. The In Between was going to make it hard for them to leave.

"Can't say I understand the choices that the Powers make," Spike sighed, sizing up his doppelganger. "Mean, I understand her mum, but you?"

"She trusts you to protect her," William answered. "You are the only one she does trust. The Powers sent me to give you a head start. To keep her believing in you long enough to hold on."

Spike was silent, thinking of how to word the thoughts that ran through his mind. "I know you must love her," he finally said, no possessiveness or jealousy left in his voice. "It was you that fell for her to begin with."

William sighed, equally caught in the wording of his answer. "But it is you that she needs. You that she loves. My... affection... for her is one sided. Like a child to his mother A painter to his muse."

Spike snorted. "You really are a poof." But he held out his hand towards what he once had been.

"And you really are a Wanker," William responded, shaking solemnly.

"You'll watch out for her? Keep her safe here?" Spike asked. "Don't let her give up on us... I mean to say... oh, bloody hell... I'm in love with the girl and I need her there. Don't think we'd make it without her."

William nodded. "I will." The resignation was gone from his tone. Somehow, he fit into their lives, but it was not as her leading man. That position had been rightfully taken. "You've done quite well, Spike."

The Vampire stared at him, feeling a tug on his wrist where the silver strand tightened. Spike began to feel less ... solid. Real. William's statement caught him off guard. Trapped him between honour and shock. Never would he have imagined the man he once was approving in any way of the thing he'd become. Slowly, he nodded at William, not able to answer in any meaningful fashion.

"Buffy," Spike said softly, the band growing tighter against his skin. William nodded in response, pulling open the door and silently escaping into the house.

Joyce stood in the entryway, peering out the open door. It was a vaguely familiar feeling. Being on the outside of this house, of this life, with no one left to talk to save her. "Safe journey, Spike. We'll keep your family safe."

Buffy rushed to the door, past her mum, heading towards Spike. He craned his head to see Joyce, to thank her, but she was gone. Just like the night she had died. Standing outside that house, staring in. Hoping to say something to express his gratitude, but by the time the words came out, she had been gone.

And what was left was even more painful.

Buffy stood in front of him, tiny and fragile, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders where William's suit jacket had been. She wasn't the Slayer here. She was small and feminine and breakable. But she was his Buffy. His everything.

"Spike, I..." Buffy began, the tears starting to fall from her glittering green gold eyes.

"No goodbyes, Pet," he interrupted, feeling the silver strand tug harder at his wrist. Spike moved closer to her, resting his palm on her cheek. Tracing her cheekbones with his thumb and brushing away tears. She closed her eyes, but the silent drops still escaped one by one against his hand. I can't leave her, he thought, panicking.

I have to, he completed in his mind.

"Listen to me," Spike said, pulling her face up so his eyes caught hers. "I have to go find Emma in order to bring you back. But you have to hold on a bit longer. Alright, Love?" Buffy nodded, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. "Mind your mum and William and don't give up on us. Can you do that, Pet?"

Buffy nodded. "I want to go home." It was soft, sweet, almost a whispered confession. She seemed so much like a child So innocent and trusting in this place.

"I know, Buffy. I want you there. I *need* you there. Emma needs you. So you have to stay here no matter what happens until it's safe. Don't give up. Besides, William couldn't handle you that long." He smiled at her, knowing that their time was up.

Buffy chuckled, squeezing his hand. She pressed up on her toes and leaned in to kiss him. It was soft. Delicate. Like a feather brushing his skin. "Please find Emma," she whispered against his lips.

"I promise, Love." It tore Spike's heart from his chest to leave her there, Her beautiful eyes were so needy and tired. "I will find her."

"Good."

"Promise me she'll have her mum when we get back," Spike sighed in response, letting his lips brush hers once again.

"I promise."

Spike felt the silver thread go taut and began to back away from her. Down the stairs of the porch. "I love you, Buffy."

"I love you too," she answered, nervously brushing tears from her cheeks.

"Always," he called up, backing further away.

"Every day."

And he was gone.

To be contd.

Title: Extension (The Evil Within - Chapter 22)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG -13

Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma, who belongs to Buffy and Spike)

Summary: Spike returns from his journey to the In Between and organizes his trip to find Emma. The truth about Cyrus is revealed. Buffy breaks down as her body fails and William is left to pull together the pieces. But can he convince her to go on?



Extension

Spike sat up in the bed with a gasp. His eyes were wide and terrified, as if emerging from the bottom of a swimming pool just before his air ran out. Tara jumped, breaking the circle. The silver threads of magic disappeared, almost without notice. Spike sat there a moment, heart pounding, trying to focus. His hand was still hooked through Buffy's, the single strand of her golden hair warm against his palm. Spike clutched it tightly, and then slid it into the pocket of his jeans. He needed to keep her with him.

"Spike... did you find her?" Tara asked, recovering her composure.

"No time," Spike panted, leaning down to the battered form next to him and brushing his lips to hers. Tara looked away. It wasn't for her to see.

"Always, Love. Every day," he whispered to Buffy, kissing her softly once again and bounding from the bed.

"Stay with her," Spike commanded, pulling on his boots, sliding on his duster, all while moving in a panicked flurry around the room. "When you think the Niblet's up to it, bring her in with her sis. It'll help them both."

Tara nodded, still shaky from the magic and Spike's sudden awakening.

"Thank you," Spike said softly, kissing Tara's cheek. She blushed, smiling.

"You found her?"

"Yeah," Spike answered quietly. "She's right as rain."

With that, he jogged down the stairs to find Cyrus.

*****

"We think we found a way to Emma!" Cyrus exclaimed as Spike strode into the kitchen. The Vampire looked completely drained, no pun intended, but more resolute than ever.

"Use the Key. Open it where Anya left. Follow you," Spike ticked off, opening the refrigerator. He hesitated a moment, not wanting to drink in front of them, but knowing that human sustenance was not what he needed for the task at hand.

Spike grabbed a jar of blood, tossing it in the microwave just long enough to make it palatable. There was no time, but he needed to regain strength quickly. The microwave dinged and Spike tossed it open, pointing at Cyrus at the same time. "We go. Now." He strode from the kitchen, downing the contents of the jar as he walked.

"Cyrus? Why?" Xander asked as the two followed Spike through the door. "I mean if Anya's got Emma, wouldn't it make sense for me to go?"

Cyrus was quiet, the tumblers in his head clicking to the answer. There was no time to explain.

"Harris, no time for the sodding inquisition," Spike snarled. "Cyrus goes. Was told you know the way?" His attention turned to the Watcher as he reached the top stair and glanced over his shoulder. Cyrus nodded in reply.

"How?" Xander asked.

"It will draw me there," Cyrus answered, almost dreamily. "I have to be there."

"Why? What is it with crypto-prophesy speak..." Xander's frustration was evident in his movements. He darted around like a frightened rabbit, staring from Spike to Cyrus and back at almost super human speed.

Cyrus sighed. "He's collecting those that were there at the First. Gathering their power and attempting to shatter it all at once. Like a sledgehammer to marbles."

"What?" Xander blurted, his head wagging back and forth in an attempt to catch up with the conversation.

"Harris?" Spike interrupted. No time, he thought. "Dawn up to this? Was told it wouldn't hurt her, but not doin anything less I know she's alright."

"She's fine," Xander answered, glancing at the teenager's door. "Resting."

"Can you get Red then?" Spike asked, needing a distraction. "Wanna hear it from her. Need to know."

"Uh... yeah," the boy muttered, stumbling down the hall. Spike looked at Cyrus seriously, close to wrapping his fingers around the Watcher's throat.

"Right then. Enough of the mystery man charade," the Vampire said dryly. "Tell me where you fit into this. Quickly."

Cyrus stared at Spike's eyes. They teetered between blue and gold. Such a fine line between monster and man. "I was there at the First."

"Did they sell T-shirts for the event 'coz it seems the whole sodding lot of us were hanging about..."

"I was the first Watcher," Cyrus sighed. Spike was taken aback, staring at the youngish looking Brit in his conservative suit. His head tilted, listening. "When the Evil took one twin, I was charged with the remaining sibling. To teach her. Train her to kill what it was that Draconius made. I am the one he truly hates as I was sent from the Powers themselves."

"Like Emma?" Spike asked, trying to piece together the bits in his rattled mind.

"Exactly," Cyrus answered. "We are merely extensions of the Powers themselves."

"Which is why you're immortal. You aren't *real* to begin with," Spike said, letting his tense arms drop to his sides.

"I am every bit as real as Emma," Cyrus answered. "Just a different... composition. It's the spirit that is immortal, not necessarily the body. Not that much different from you or Buffy, to be honest. We just retain the memories of our past lives. Where you are a product of the Powers, we are a part of them."

"So, why are you here then?" Spike asked, cutting to the quick of the matter.

"I am to be Emma's Watcher."

"Sorry. Got that covered," Spike snapped, heading towards the baby's room.

"No," Cyrus drew the word out, almost a full beat. "I'm afraid you don't." Spike turned to look at the man who had suddenly become assertive. "*You*," he enunciated, eyes now glowing an almost neon green, "Are here to reunite the One and to produce the child. *You* are here to champion her. To fight her battles in her name. Be her father. The *Slayer* is here to protect her and to mother her. *I* am here to teach her that which you know nothing about, Vampire."

Spike was silent, struck dumb by Cyrus' outburst. Part of him wanted to beat the Watcher to a bloody pulp for speaking to him in that manner. The rest of him knew Cyrus was telling the truth. "Do you know the way or not?" Spike snarled, slamming open the door of Emma's room with a thud.

"I will find it."

"Then we've nothing further to discuss."

Xander and Willow appeared from Dawn's room, clicking the door shut behind them. The woman held an eyedropper carefully upright as they walked.

"Where's Dawn?" Spike asked, concern flooding his face. "She alright?"

"Fine," Willow answered, smiling nervously. "Sleeping."

"The blood?" Cyrus asked.

Willow raised the eyedropper in response, heading into the bedroom in front of them. She positioned herself to the side of the charred patched of carpet.

"You're tellin me the truth, Red. Niblet's alright?" Spike asked again, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"I promise, " Willow answered. "Soon as she wakes up, we'll take her in with Buffy."

The sound of his lover's name made his heart break anew. "You'll watch after them?" He asked quietly, looking Xander in the eye. Xander nodded his reply, understanding the meaning of the request, and the trust Spike was trying to offer.

"We should go," Cyrus whispered, laying his hand on Spike's forearm. Spike pulled away, still wary of the Watcher's motives.

Willow upended the eyedropper. "Take them down the path to Peace," she whispered, letting the blood drip to the scorched floor.

A flash of blue lit the room, followed by a shimmering, filmy white. Spike looked around, his daughter's clothes and toys everywhere in his sight. He took a breath and stepped through.

*****

"Buffy, please sit down," Joyce pleaded, watching her daughter pace restlessly about the room. Buffy chewed her nails and looked as if she was forcibly restraining herself from pummeling the furniture. "You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry." The sound was almost a growl.

"Please, Buffy. This is not going to help," Joyce continued, walking towards her child. Buffy shied away. William sat on the couch, hands clasped tight in his lap, watching her.

"How can you ask me to eat when Emma might die?" Buffy snapped, this time a hint of fear and despair creeping into her tone. "How can you ask me to relax?"

"Because," William said calmly. "You've other... family to protect."

Buffy stopped in her tracks, staring at him. Trapped. Joyce shot a glance at William that could have melted a glacier. "You... you told her the future?" Joyce gasped. "You know that..."

"I know that she needed to know at the time, or she would have crossed over." It amazed Buffy how he could cut through all arguments and put a person in her place without ever changing his tone. His sweet face. "Please," he begged, turning his attention to Buffy. "Sit and try to be calm."

Buffy looked at those endless blue eyes and saw just a flash of Spike. Just enough to bring memories flooding back and tears to her eyes. "William, they *can't* die." Her voice wavered and her eyes filled, like emeralds drowning in a pool.

"Neither can you," he answered, pulling her down next to him. She didn't struggle. Joyce sat on the arm of the sofa as Buffy cascaded down. William let her sob into his shirt, his arm tucked around her as her mother stroked her hair. "You must have faith, Buffy. The Powers would not send you such gifts were you meant to end here."

"But Emma," Buffy choked. She was crying like a child, in fits and starts. "Spike."

"Spike will find her in time. And you'll be mended and we'll all go home," William comforted, letting his hand rub her shoulder with infinite tenderness.

"Buffy, you need to be strong now," Joyce added softly. "Just a little longer."

Buffy was quiet save for hiccupping cries. She clung to William's crisp, white shirt. "If... if Spike saves her but doesn't make it to me... the other me... do I stay here?"

William bit his lip, trying to form his answer. She couldn't think this way, even if it would have made everything in his own world somehow complete. "We'd all cross back into Heaven, Buffy," he said cautiously. "But Spike would eventually break under the strain on the One. Emma would be left unprotected. Some would die." He lifted his face to hers. "And others would never come to be."

Buffy blinked at him, watching his kind face. His own eyes were wet and dark with sadness, but glittered with resolve.

"You must go back. You know that."

"I know," Buffy whispered. "It's so... hard. I want to go home, but I feel like home keeps getting further away. Like I'm becoming less... real."

Joyce took her daughter's hand and she turned to face her mother. "Your mortal body is failing, Buffy. It's up to you to keep it alive. You have to believe. And you have to stop yourself from crossing, even when it seems too...peaceful... to resist."

Buffy sat up, tugging William's shirt straight and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm going to go crazy waiting," she sighed. "Can we go for another walk?" She looked at William. It'd be like patrolling without the demons, Buffy thought.

Joyce nodded at the boy. "Go on," she whispered. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on things."

William stood, tugging Buffy gently to her feet. "It's dark outside, you know," he commented, wrapping the shawl around her shoulders.

Buffy smiled. "That's when I do my best work."

*****

She floated now, suspended above the fire. Flames flickered about her, but never seemed to touch her. Giles watched Emma, levitating in front of him. Helpless. The both of them. She didn't scream or cry. The only way that he knew she was awake and unharmed was her sporadic, gentle movements and the rapid rise and fall of her chest under the fuzzy, pink jumper.

A commotion jarred Giles from his watch. The scuffling of feet. A whimper. Then the body of a woman was shoved through the entryway, sliding almost gracefully to her knees on the stone floor. Her hands were bound in front of her. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

"Anya," He hadn't realized he had said it aloud until the woman's head spun towards where Giles hung.

"Rupert?" she yelped, as Quentin hoisted her to her feet, shoving her to a place opposite Giles around the fire. He could only barely see her through the flickering flame. Emma called out, but the words were unintelligible.

"Anya," Giles repeated, heart sinking. The Mother. His mate. His victim. "Are you alright?"

The woman nodded frantically, but her inability to form words spoke more to her state of mind. Her body shook, eyes wide, staring up at the child she brought to this place.

Anya shifted her gaze back to Giles. He could barely make her out across the blazing fire. But her expression changed. Shifted. And she nodded at him, knowingly. Giles closed his eyes, realizing the gesture for what it was.

Acceptance.

Absolution.

"Shouldn't be long before we get this formality over with," Quentin said coldly, walking around the fire towards Files. " Just waiting on the rest. Of course, the Slayer cannot join us for our little fete as she is dying." Giles swallowed, opening his eyes once again as Quentin unshackled his legs. "And once the child of Peace is gone, she will be dead. The Vampire close behind, no doubt by his own hand. Lovesick sot. All will be right in the world." Giles felt the other leg iron loosen as Quentin spoke.

"Spike will save her," Anya called, knowing the truth. Giles looked at her, quirking his mouth. Well done, he thought. Subterfuge.

"William the *Bloody*," Quentin enunciated, going to work on the cuffs around Giles's wrists, "*cannot* save her. A toothless wolf." The former Watcher turned to Giles. "Now, I'm going to set you free, but let it be known, Mr.. Giles, that if you try to run or fight or, frankly, do *anything* at all, Mistress Lenora will send the child plunging into that fire and save me the trouble of killing her properly. Do we have an understanding?"

The look of hatred on Giles' sunken face burned in the firelight. "Yes," he hissed as Quentin freed his arms, dropping him to the floor. Giles rubbed his wrists, craning his neck back and forth in an effort to exorcise a kink. Unsuccessfully.

"Should be but a moment and we can begin."

*****

"Would you bloody well hurry this up?" Spike snapped, having to slow himself in the darkness to stay aside Cyrus.

"I cannot," Cyrus answered. "If we step off course..."

"What course? We're in a sodding black tunnel. We need to *move*."

"If we step off course," Cyrus reiterated, patiently, "We will end up in another location, which will put your daughter and the Slayer at risk."

"Don't know if you noticed, mate, but they're *already* at risk."

Cyrus shot him a glare in the darkness. "I was avoiding the line of thought that dictates their certain deaths if we don't do this correctly," he stated. Cyrus heard Spike's jaw click shut. "You may be a miracle as far as Vampire's go, but patience is *not* something that the One bestowed upon you."

"Patience!" Spike sputtered. "Look, you git. My daughter and my...." Spike's words trailed off as they both caught sight of an orangey glow ahead of them.

"That's it!" Cyrus exclaimed.

"Can we run now?" Spike asked, like a child being restrained from his heart's desire.

"We can."

Spike sprinted towards the glow at supernatural speed, Cyrus staying on his heels at his own amazing clip. It seemed like an eternity that they ran, the glow never seeming any closer or any further off.

Suddenly, Spike slammed into something and bounced back a step. A fluid, gelatinous wall shimmered before them, opening into a cave. Cyrus stepped towards it, arms outstretched and passing through the doorway as he moved. Cyrus nodded at Spike and stepped into the cave. The Vampire took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and followed Cyrus blindly into the mouth of hell.

To be contd.

Title: Strength (The Evil Within - Chapter 23)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG -13

Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (with, of course, the exception of Emma, who belongs to Buffy and Spike)

Summary: Buffy and William discuss the ramifications of her decision. Cyrus explains to Spike the importance of the game. But will either of them listen?



Strength

They walked in silence, the bright light of the full moon filling the landscape with a soft glow. The breeze rustled the leaves on the trees until they seemed if they were singing a beautiful but somehow lonely melody. Buffy was barefoot. The In Between had not bothered to flesh out her wardrobe. Probably for the best, she thought. The more comforts she had, the harder it would be to remember to leave.

William walked beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his hand hanging next to hers, but not touching her skin. He was quiet. Resigned. Buffy knew her task. What was *right* for her to do. But leaving him here, alone, seemed somehow terribly cruel. Joyce appeared... happier... in the Ever After. She had her daughter. The one that had never seen a Vampire or come home at three A.M., battered, or who had burned down the school gymnasium. Not that she felt her mother loved that version any more than the Buffy who had remained behind, but she had *something*.

William seemed alone.

"What do you do all day?" Buffy asked, looking up at the form walking next to her. "In Heaven, I mean. I wasn't there long enough for the novelty to wear off."

William chuckled. "Don't know that we *do* anything. It's more a *sense* of things. As if one was a bit of light to which things occur."

"Not following," Buffy quipped, crinkling her nose.

William crossed his arms, almost protectively. "Not sure how to explain as I am not sure if I understand it all myself. But one *exists* there and is aware of that which went before and that which is to come. One feels completeness and warmth and peace. But it is not as if one *is*." He shook his head, realizing the inadequacy of his explanation.

Buffy stared up at him with curious, dancing eyes. Eyes that questioned him further.

"It's not as if we flit about with angel wings carrying harps and wearing wretched sandals."

Buffy burst out laughing. William could not help but be infected by the sound. As the laughter faded to panting giggles, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sorry," she choked out. "Just got a visual of Spike trying to rip his wings off while wearing a big diaper and Doc Martens."

William chuckled again. "Yes, I think my counterpart would be much annoyed by the accoutrements of a classical Heaven."

"Big, old, noisy electric guitar instead of a harp." Buffy giggled.

"Thank goodness that it's *not* like that," William said, smiling down at her. He liked it when she laughed. Her whole face changed. Brightened. The gold in her eyes dance around in deep green pools and little lines etched around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She would be completely at home in her cartoon view of Heaven. Her job, her past, was dark and violent. But her soul, her pretty face, was nothing short of angelic.

"Do you like it there?" Buffy asked, stepping aside as a fawn appeared from no where and brushed past her as if she weren't there at all. She furrowed her brow, watching the little creature, then shrugged and continued walking next to William.

"I do," he answered, and it had been truth. Until he came to this place, he had not remembered what it was to *feel* human. To need contact. To love and be loved on a conscious level. William supposed he would forget again in time and go back to the peaceful knowledge of love on the ethereal plane. But he was reminded of that which he had missed in his former life.

Buffy nodded at him. "Guess I can't blame you. No creepy slimy demons with barbed tentacles. No evil Vampires jumping out from behind tombstones. No hell gods in sleazy dresses trying to kill your family. No taxes..."

Again, William chuckled at her sense of her own life. The simplicity with which she thought of some of the most complex, metaphysical challenges. "Yes," he answered. "But also no battle, no victory, no lust nor passion. As much as Spike has been changed from... well, me... by the demon, so have you by the Slayer. You have a warrior's soul. True peace would not become you for very long. I suppose that is why the Powers sent Emma to you and to Spike."

Buffy thought a moment, stepping back into the tree line and feeling the ground change from grass to bare earth. "How do you mean?"

"Emma," William continued, softly, "Is a part of the Powers themselves. She is the embodiment of Peace. Her very *nature* effects those around her. Breeds tranquility and harmony. Were it *not* for the warrior, the Slayer, in you, and for the demon in Spike, one would imagine that you would simply become complacent in her constant presence. It is that which makes you strong that allows you to protect your daughter."

"Are you... do you mean.. that the Slayer in me is ... evil? Like the demon part of Spike?" Buffy stuttered, the realization of how similar she and her lover have been striking her like a brick.

"No," William answered simply. "What makes you think that?"

"You said that the Slayer part of me and the demon part of Spike... Well, you said it like they were the same thing," Buffy puzzled.

"Not exactly. I said that they made you both warriors. Kept you from becoming complacent."

"But you're making it sound the same. Demon, evil. Slayer, good."

William shook his head, chuckling. "Buffy," he sighed. "You need to categorize things in whatever manner you must in order to perform your duties on your plane. But some things to remember as they apply to you and to Spike, alright?"

Buffy nodded, quirking a brow.

"First of all, the first Vampire and the first Slayer were identical in every way save for gender. The One divided. From whence you came. The power was equally distributed, just morally divided. Morality being a human construct. The point being, they spring from the same source."

"Not sure I know what you are getting at," Buffy commented.

"The Powers," William continued. "There must be balance. The Powers created you both."

"Then why... why Emma, if the Powers want both good and evil?"

"Just because there is both in the universe does not mean that they must continually be at odds. Evil is a label. In our dimension, what is evil could be angelic in another. It's Emma's job to sort that out."

"Hmmm," Buffy mused. "Didn't think of that."

"It's hard to imagine the dimensionality of the Universe when all you see, for the most part, is the World in which you live. It's wholly understandable."

"Still."

William sighed. "On a more... personal... level. You have met the demon in Spike in both battle and in... passion." He blushed, trying to get through the thought without utterly embarrassing himself. "The night that the One was joined, you gave yourself willingly to the demon. You let it feed from you. Gave your life over not to the part of Spike that was formed by me, but to the part of him that *is* Vampire. Did you find that demon wholly evil?"

Buffy thought back to that night. The careful way he let his fangs sink into her so that she would feel no pain. His hesitant ways. How he held her so gently, his hands stroking her back, refusing to continue unless she spoke. Unless she confirmed she was alright. The way her body sang as he suckled her, taking only what was his and leaving her lightheaded and euphoric.

"No." That creature had not been evil.

The demon had loved her as much as the man.

*****

"This way," Cyrus whispered as Spike stepped through the portal. Spike followed him, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The Vampire felt as if the slightest touch, the quietest whimper of his daughter's pain would bring the demon surging forth into a rage that he could not control. Slowly, he clenched and unclenched his fists as they slid along the cold, stone wall. Quietly and far too slowly for Spike's liking.

"Need to find her, Watcher," Spike muttered, absently.

"We need to play our cards correctly or you'll lose them both. I suggest you attempt patience," Cyrus snapped.

Spike began to spit out a response when the sound of chanting drifted to their ears. The smell of fire and what seemed to be decomposition. The acrid taste of some intangible evil. Cyrus lurched forward, breaking into a jog, as Spike loped past him towards the sound.

"Spike, we must be careful, we must..."

But it was too late. Spike rounded the corner and stopped dead, as if physically forced to a halt. Cyrus moved up behind him and into the entryway of the hall.

What lay before them was enough to make Cyrus shudder and the demon in Spike come forth.

*****

The child hovered in the flames, seemingly untouched but utterly enveloped in fire. She cooed and whimpered almost inaudibly, save for her father's heightened hearing. Spike, now fully consumed by the demon within, began to surge forward. Cyrus grabbed his arm, knowing the risk of angering him in this altered state. It was a calculated risk, however. Cyrus had come to realize that it was not just the man that loved his family, but also the demon that shared his body.

Spike stopped, golden eyes flashing fury at the Watcher. Cyrus felt fear urge on his heartbeat, but recovered himself, pulling Spike behind the corner of the wall, unnoticed. "Spike, right now, she is alright. We need to be careful. Not go after her until the time is right or we just jeopardize her safety and that of the Slayer."

The Vampire tensed his jaw, blinking steadily at Cyrus. "My child," he hissed at the Watcher. "They've got her. Fire."

"I know," Cyrus said, his manner now calm, almost comforting. "And we need to return her home safely. We will, William. Be calm. Strength."

Cyrus watched Spike visibly recount his thoughts as they flitted across golden eyes. Spike took a long breath. Then another. A slight shake of the head and his features returned to that of the man.

"What do I do?"

"Wait," Cyrus responded.

"I can't just *wait*."

The struggle between William and the demon flashed along Spike's features like a wave under the surface of his alabaster skin. He was caught between patience and courage and aggression and impulsivity. Respect for the creature before him was magnified in the Watcher. All must battle their natures every day, but most do not have to control, physically, an age-old demon for all eternity.

"We'll go in," Cyrus began in the same, calm tone. "I'll try to control the ritual the best that I can. They cannot complete it without us as it stands. But you *must* be patient. Do *not* go after Emma until I have told you it is safe, alright?" Spike nodded slowly, holding onto his human countenance by a thread. "Position yourself close to her. It may help her to see you if she is afraid. But do not move to touch her without my signal. Stay between her and this doorway and *regardless* of what happens, once she is freed, you *must* take her and return the way we came. Do not hesitate. Do not look back. I will sort out all who are left."

"Draconius," Spike hissed. " I want him dead."

"If we kill Quentin," Cyrus answered softly, "Draconius will return in another form. Take another body. It is not our priority."

"He stole my child." Spike's voice was primal. "He tried to kill Buffy."

Cyrus was patient, quite sure, were he in the same position as Spike, he would feel much the same way. "I understand your desire for retribution, William. However, our duty here is to protect rather than destroy. Vengeance is best handled by others."

Spike was silent, breathing long, slow breaths. "Promise me we will get Emma."

"Do as I say, and you will have her unharmed. Break this agreement and the Fates will change the game and there will be *nothing* I can do."

Spike blinked, then nodded. Cyrus touched his shoulder. "Strength," he whispered, then walked past the Vampire and into the chamber.

*****

The fire spit and hissed around Emma. The baby clung to rabbit, her body nearly still save for her head craning side to side. Searching. She caught sight of him as he walked through the doorway and an impassioned cry wailed from her lips and her arms flung towards her father.

Spike stopped, trapped. Every instinct he possessed urged him into the flame. Grab her and save her. Then kill her captors in a fury the likes of which the world had not seen. Spike looked at Cyrus. Strength. The Vampire stopped just short of the fire's edge. Silent. A straight path behind him to the door.

"Watcher!" Quentin cheered, as Cyrus stepped beyond Spike and into the chamber. The hag chanted loudly in the background. Spike scanned the room and caught sight of Giles to his right. Giles nodded across the fire and Spike's eyes followed. Anya stood, trembling against the wall, staring up at Emma with frightened and sorrowful eyes.

"I see you have collected the Mother and the Father," Cyrus said in a surprisingly strong and commanding voice. "All who were there at the First save the remainder of the One."

"She's still alive?" Quentin asked. Spike's eyes glittered with hatred and rage. "I am impressed. However, the slaughter of her daughter will effectively destroy the One, don't you think?"

Again, Spike began to surge forward but Cyrus put his hand out to stop him. This time, Spike needed the physical reminder to hold his ground. "It would, however it is my duty to not allow this to happen, Draconius."

Quentin laughed. "You cannot stop this, you insignificant twit. Have you no memory?"

"I do," Cyrus answered. Spike returned his gaze to his daughter. Her eyes were pitiful and helpless. The toddler to him. Not the prophesy. What was left of Spike's broken heart crumbled, watching her eyes.

"Only this," Quentin said as a dagger appeared in the flame. He grabbed the hilt, untouched by the fire. "Can stop it."

Anya stood, her countenance shifting once again from terror to confidence. She glared at the hag, concentrating. Willing her. Drawing her in. Quentin walked to Lenora, standing just behind her. "Have the Fates chosen, my dear Lenora?"

The sorceress was silent, staring blindly at the fire. "If the Mother is willing to die for her children, Peace must go free." The voice was cracked, arid, millions of years old.

Anya visibly relaxed, still staring at the pair of them. "I am," she answered, her voice strong and unwavering. Spike looked at her, shock on his face, his head tilting, staring at her small form.

"You will die in her place?" Quentin asked, incredulously. As if he had truly not expected any of them to exchange a life for a life. Little did he know that every one of them would have.

"I will."

"Willingly?"

"Of my own pretense," Anya continued, as if reciting an ancient vow.

"Very well," Quentin said, disheartened. "But who should take your life? It is far easier for the good to be killed than to be a killer." The man spoke the truth. Sacrifice was something to which they had all become accustomed. But killing another human was against the moral construct, even for the Vampire.

"Certainly not Cyrus," Quentin began, brushing past the Watcher. "As it is his sworn duty to guide the child. His job to kill what prevents that." He approached Spike, staring at his hard, fearful face. "How about our noble Vampire? Hmmm? He of the Heart who fights alongside the Slayer for the sake of humanity? Too simple." Spike wanted to grab the creature's throat, ripping his neck out as he brushed past, but stood stock still, never taking his attention from Emma.

"He is the Peacemaker's Champion and the mortal child's father. Killing for her would be too simple a choice," Quentin completed. The Evil walked to Giles. Giles blinked, swallowing, knowing what was to come. "You, however," Quentin began anew, "Were her mate at the First. You've the most to lose. You will have to kill her."

Quentin thrust the dagger at Giles. Giles looked across the fire at Anya, his eyes pleading with anyone to make this stop. To wake him from this nightmare. But nothing came. Anya simply closed her eyes, nodding.

"I will," Giles answered, taking the dagger from Quentin. Quentin's eyes widened as he watched Giles walk around the fire to where Anya stood. Spike felt the terror and anger rip through him as he watched the macabre dance. He dared not move towards them per Cyrus' warning. No one should die tonight.

Giles stopped a pace from the girl. She was frightened, but firm. His hands shook, holding the dagger. "Anya, I..."

"It's my choice, Rupert," she interrupted.

"I don't want to," he whispered, moving closer to her. Tears slid down the Watcher's cheeks.

"I know," she answered, watching his eyes. "But you have to."

His hand moved to her face, his palm resting against her cheek. Softly, he brushed the tears from her eyes with his thumb. "I would have liked to have known you better," he whispered quietly.

Anya smiled softly back at him. "Maybe next time."

Giles leaned in, kissing her forehead gently. She closed her eyes, dropping to her knees. Spike watched in horror, not able to fathom the reality inside the nightmare. Giles drew the dagger above his head, his arms shaking, his lips trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Spike turned his head. He heard Anya gasp and then sigh.

Spike turned back in time to see Rupert catch her head before she sunk to the floor. She clutched her chest. Blood pouring from a wound near her heart. It hadn't been a clean kill. Spike could feel the tears start, knowing what it was to know you are dying. To feel it coming and know there was no stopping it. Giles was broken, shuddering, holding the girl's trembling head in his lap. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and she choked, gasping.

"Now!" Cyrus called to Spike, tearing his attention from the horror before him.

There was a flash of light and the fire blew upwards and out. The room was bathed in white and for a moment, Spike lost sight of her. He caught a flash of pink in front of him, falling like a star from the sky.

To be contd.

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