Meant to Be

Title: Hope for Salvation (Chapter Thirty-nine - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren’t me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Spike is forced to leave the realm of the Sky Queen unexpectedly. Willow readies herself to do battle against the Master. Buffy prepares to defend her family. Wes, Gunn and Xander rush to help. And Angel tries to save Cordelia….

Hope for Salvation

The Sky Queen paused a moment, her elegant head tilting as if she had stopped suddenly to listen to the world around her. The rest noticed, not hearing anything, but sets of eyes darted around the landscape, trying to see what the Queen was sensing. By the look on her face, it could not be good.

“Would you like me to take them, madam?” the winged horse said solemnly as he drew himself up from his knees and spread enormous wings to either side. “It will be dark now, and…”

“No,” the Queen answered. “My emissary…. Emma can find her way back.”

“S’there a rush?” Spike asked, still holding the quiet child against him, his eldest daughter pressed to his back and Joyce standing next to them, trying to soak up the feeling of family she had missed for so long.

The Sky Queen nodded. “The portals of Hell have opened into your world. An evil stranger has captured the most innocent of your warriors and another…” The Queen’s eyes dropped… “Another will soon make her home with us without the last choice being made.”

“What?” Spike asked, tensing. “Earth languages, please, Love.”

The Queen looked over at Spike. “The future is not yours to know. But it is time you went home. Your family is in danger. “

Forcing himself to be gentle despite his fear, Spike slowly lowered the little girl onto the ground, crouching down next to her. “See you soon, Pet. All right? Seems we’ve got a little work to do before you come to visit. That is, if you want to, Pet.”

The little girl looked at him again, all wide-eyed innocence. “Think I’d like that,” she finally whispered shyly. “Very much.”

Spike shot a glance to the Queen who nodded. “She will be prepared, Spike. But now it is time to do your duty.”

With a sharp nod, the Vampire looked quickly at Joyce, watching her sad, sweet eyes say goodbye. No time. He leaned over, placing a kiss on her cheek. “You’re always with us, you know that?”

She nodded once. “I know.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, grabbing Emma’s hand, taking one last look at the scene, and setting off at a jog across the brown sugar soil.

~~~@~~~@~~~

“We need to get her to a hospital.”

“No time.”

“Can’t do anything here.”

“Maybe Takina….”

“It’s closer.”

“In all honesty, I believe we’d be best served in a medical facility…”

“Wesley, shut up. No time. We need to…”

“Takina.”

“Can she help?”

“I don’t know. She’s… she’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Man, this isn’t good. “

“Angel?”

The dark Vampire knelt beside his fallen girl, watching the red spread out to the sides. Would she want that? Would she be the same? He could hear her heart slowing with every second ticking off the clock.

No doctor could fix this. It was too late.

But he could.

Would she want this?

Could he find a way to keep her soul?

With a huff of effort, Angel leaned down and scooped the blood soaked girl from the ground, cradling her against him. His face stung. Tears. He’d forgotten what those felt like, even though he’d probably cried a lake in his life.

“Wesley,” Angel said quietly, seeing that the other two were still quite irrational. Things suddenly seemed very clear to the Vampire. “Go. Stop the Master and retrieve Tara. I don’t care how you do it, but I’m betting that Spike will be back in time to help. Once it’s under control, I want you to bring both Tara and Willow to me, unharmed.” He paused, thinking of a safe place. “To Spike’s crypt. I need them before sunrise. Do you understand?”

Wesley quirked an eyebrow at Angel. “We need to help her,” the mystic said quietly.

Angel nodded once more. “I’m going to get help for her now. Okay? But you need to stop the Master. And you need to bring the girls to me. Promise me, Wesley.”

With a nod, Wes gave his consent. Wisely, the other two men kept their mouths shut throughout the quiet exchange, afraid Angel might break into a thousand pieces were he questioned in any way.

Besides, if any of them wanted the prom queen to survive, it was Angel. They all loved her in their own way, but the Vampire had the most to lose.

“Go,” Angel stated quietly, then disappeared into the dark, his love clutched against his chest.

~~~@~~~@~~~

Willow took up her position on the sidewalk of the darkened street, steeling herself. She didn’t much care anymore if anyone saw her for what she was. She was a Witch, and if the eternally blind folks of Sunnydale did see her in action, well, they’d likely forget about it by morning.

A look up and a nod to the moon and she began to draw power. Summoning it around her like a shield and a weapon. No one was taking Tara. No one was touching Buffy. No one was going to stop what they had started.

No one.

Ever.

Wind whipped up and Willow could feel it building. She could feel everything more intensely. Including the hole in the fabric of reality exposing Hell to this world. Or the other way around.

Had to be Luke and Gwydion.

Which meant that Spike had succeeded and they were pissed. Great. Another bunch of evil cartoon characters to contend with.

But Spike would be home soon and that would free her up to help….

With a jolt, Willow was knocked back to the sidewalk, and then lifted up into the air, suspended above the ground in a vise-like grip. Focus, she thought, trying to use the power she’d built to break free. Focus.

A dark figure came into her view, standing above her, looking down and smiling. “You may be powerful, little Witch,” he hissed, dropping a cold hand to her face and caressing, “but you are still a novice.”

With a crack, he let her fall to the ground, her head thudding against the sidewalk and the lights, suddenly, going dark.

~~~@~~~@~~~

Buffy felt it more than heard it. A presence entering her house. Her sanctuary. One that didn’t belong.

A glance downward showed her daughter and Spike still unconscious, breathing slowly, deeply, in unknowing slumber. Willow had presumably left when Buffy told her to.

It was up to her.

With a put-upon sigh, Buffy pushed herself up on her good arm, holding the broken one against her, and slid quietly from the bed. Weapons, she thought, grabbing a stake from the bedside table and tucking it into her jeans. A helm axe would be nice, she thought to herself, but unavailable -not to mention unrealistic, with only one arm to balance and move.

Again, without hearing, Buffy sensed the padding of feet up the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. In rhythm with her heart. The waiting was the worst. Once the battle started….

A pause while the … thing… thought about its next move. Buffy used the time to position herself between the door and the bed. No one was touching her family. Not this Master. Not any before. Not any after.

A fleeting thought of what must have happened to Angel and the others crossed her mind. No. Not now. Later. Can’t think about that now.

It seemed like an eternity between the time the creature had finished climbing the stairs and when the knob turned. No grand entrances for this one. No wind gushing through and exploding the door into splinters.

Just a slow, long turn of the knob.

An eternity to wait for battle.

~~~@~~~@~~~

Wesley jogged down the street, Xander and Gunn following. No one spoke. This was getting all getting too surreal and too much was happening at once. The Master had Tara. Willow was getting all magic-ed up. There were two houses full of people in danger.

And Cordy.

For once, Wesley had a clue what Angel had in mind, but his rational brain chose not to think about it. Chose to think that Angel would rise above his baser instincts and keep her alive until help could arrive.

But part of him knew differently.

Still, there was no arguing the point. Not with so many on the line. They could argue after….

Don’t think.

The goal was to stop this Master Vampire. To protect the many. Then save the few. That had always been the goal. Always been their credo, however painful it had been at times.

Protect the many.

Hope for salvation.

~~~@~~~@~~~

Angel kicked open the door to the crypt where Spike had lived before their lives had all taken the most surreal of turns. Still, it was the mark of the true Master Vampire of Sunnydale and had to be kept up for appearance’s sake, although Angel really didn’t want to know what the dark, candlelit room was used for these days.

Slowly, he made his way to the stone shell of a sarcophagus and laid Cordelia down, her hair spilling out behind her and a dark red stain spreading far more slowly from underneath.

“Cordy,” Angel whispered, brushing her hair back from her face and watching her become paler, less alive, by the moment. “Tell me what to do, baby. Tell me.”

She lay quietly, her eyes closed, her heart thready and slow. So slow. Tonight, she had no answers.

“Cordelia, they can’t save you,” Angel whispered, his palm on her cheek. “It was too late when we found you. Too much… blood.”

The Vampire’s stomach roiled, thinking of a day when such a sight would have been true bliss. Now, hearing the last ticks of his lover’s heart, the sight of it made him want to vomit.

Tears began to streak his cheeks. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m not ready to lose you,” he began, rubbing his thumb along the line of her jaw. “And I don’t want you to hate me.”

He could hear her retort in his mind. ‘I’ll never hate you, you big dumbass’. Then the quirk of her eyebrow, wondering what he’d do next.

Angel slid onto the sarcophagus, sitting next to her. “Tell me what to do,” he whispered, taking her cooling hands and pulling her upright. “Tell me what to do.”

But Cordelia had no words left.

Angel listened to her heart thud slower. Slower. Slower.

Tears choked him as he drew her against him, wrapping his arms around her blood soaked back, kissing up the warmth left in her skin. Knowing that no feat of medicine could save her from this. No technology. Nothing short of magic.

And him.

“Please tell me,” Angel whispered, praying, hoping that Willow could pull another Thessala move. Banking on it.

But there was no answer.

“I love you,” Angel whispered, brushing her hair to one side and burying his face into her neck, smelling the scent of shampoo and perfume. “I love you.”

With a needless inhalation of breath, he brought his true face to the fore and sunk his fangs into her neck, tears streaming down his cheeks as he drank. Fumbling in his pocket for a knife, he slit his own wrist. He laid her down, still drinking, feeling her heart slow. Slow. Slow.

Just before it ceased, he brought his wrist to her lips.

To be contd.

Title: Missing Tuesday (Chapter Forty - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com

Summary: Xander and company make it back to the house just in time to find Willow. Buffy and the Master come face to face.

Missing Tuesday

It all came together in a flash.

At least, that is what it felt like to Buffy.

A shift in the very fabric of reality. Then again, knowing their lives, that was completely possible. Energy filled her as she waited for the knob to turn. Spread through her like white lightning as the air filled with static air and the sky ripped open and flooded her with light.

At least, that’s how it felt.

Screams from outside. Men, she thought. Familiar. The pounding of feet. The staccato rhythm of more than just her heartbeat.

A black stain on reality that she couldn’t quite identify. And the stench of death.

~~~@~~@~~~

“Will!” Xander screamed as they approached the lawn. The Witch lay crumpled on the pavement, surrounded by the fading effects of old magic.

“Damn, what is it with you people and accidents?” Gunn sniped, running towards the girl just behind Xander.

“Hazard of the Hellmouth,” Xander answered almost casually. It would bother him later that tragedy seemed almost de rigueur to him.

Wesley arrived at the fallen girl first, dropping to his knees and sliding warm fingers to her neck. A strong, steady beat pounded under his fingers. He sighed with relief. “She’s unconscious, but alive,” the former Watcher called out calmly. “Smelling salts would be of assistance.”

“Or Xander could just wave a ‘pit over her face,” Gunn chided, earning himself a mild punch from the Sunnydale native.

“She’s okay?” Xander confirmed as Wesley began to right the girl, sitting her up against him and checking for injuries. Nothing but a nasty bump to the back of her head.

“It looks as though she had a slight collision with the concrete, but she should be fine in no time.” As the words left Wes’s lips, Willow stirred, groaning loudly as her body began to sense the aches of the flesh.

“Tara,” the redhead whispered, rubbing the back of her head. “Tara.”

With a knowing nod, Xander darted off towards the house, scanning the lawn as he went. Something told him that the Master would not have taken the girl inside. Too much of a liability with that much power. Sometimes that old military stuff in his head came in handy.

Instead, he ducked behind trees and shrubs, thinking, knowing, she’d be out there somewhere.

And he was right.

At the far edge of the front lawn, he found her, curled tightly into a ball and surrounded by a glow he wasn’t sure he should be touching. But, being a child of the Hellmouth and therefore convinced he would probably, eventually, find out what touching it would feel like *anyway*, he reached towards the girl.

And flew back, landing on his backside on the grass.

“Uh, Wes?”

Wesley looked up from tending to the girl in his lap. “Yes, Xander?”

“I think there’s… well… you know magic too, right?”

“Yes, Xander.”

“Uh, with the force field, and the knocking you on your ass, and this one’s all yours.”

“Is she okay?” Willow groaned as Wes disentangled himself from beneath her and Gunn slid into his place, holding the redhead off the ground.

Wesley strode across the lawn to where Xander sat, watching the shy Witch begin to stir under what amounted to a spider web of light. “She looks to be, Willow. However, she’s been subdued magically.”

“What does it look like?” Willow asked, trying to sit up under her own steam and flopping back into Gunn’s waiting arms.

“Looks like a web made of teeny Christmas lights,” Xander answered, still not managing to stand again. Between the running and the fall, not to mention the fight that came before, the grass was feeling like a Sleep Number Bed at the moment.

Willow nodded, and grimaced at the sensation of the contents of her brain shifting. “Cut it.”

“With scissors? Or… or like pruning shears?” Xander called back.

“Magically,” Wesley groaned, lowering himself to a crouch a few feet from Tara. “All right. Do you know the source of the Master’s power?”

“Not the source,” Willow called back. “But I can tell you it’s ancient. Probably European in origin. Try Ariadne.”

“Are you two speaking in English?” Gunn asked. “Or is this part of the Hellmouth experience too?”

“No, because I don’t understand it either,” Xander called back. “I think it’s like ancient magic speak.”

“Oh, that,” Gunn replied, absently stroking Willow’s hair back from her face.

With a deep, steadying breath, Wesley began to chant in some language Xander could identify only as one he didn’t speak. Which was almost all of them. Except English. Most of the time. And whatever demon swearwords his wife used when she didn’t want Xander to know she’d lost her patience.

The web began to unravel as if giant, invisible shears were cutting the strings. It was slow, but it was unraveling all the same.

A crack of thunder and a flash of white light from inside the house drew all of their attentions, and with a surge of will, Wesley ripped the web, falling back to the grass as the girl inside stirred and awoke.

“Willow?”

Xander jerked his head towards his best friend. “Over there.”

“Kids?”

That got Xander’s attention. “Will? Uh, where are the litters?”

“Safe,” Willow answered, not wanting to articulate the answer with what was going on inside. “Not here.”

Another flash and the sound of wood cracking inside. “Uh, maybe we should….” Gunn began.

“Saddle up?” Xander asked, pulling himself up off the ground and facing the house that was nearly shaking under the weight of what was happening inside.

Willow stood, with some help from Gunn, as Wesley pulled Tara to her feet. “I don’t know if I can….” Willow began.

“You’re needed elsewhere,” Wesley commented as he and Tara drew closer to the rest of the group. Thoughts of what Angel was going through, whether Cordy made it…. This Master didn’t stand a chance against a pissed-off One, and Willow and Tara might be able to help in another way.

“Where?” Tara asked.

“Stop at the Magic Shop. Did Rupert keep, or obtain, another Orb….” Wesley began.

Willow gasped. “Is… is Angelus…?”

Wesley shook his head. “No, but you will need one. As well as any supplies you can find that will help in that endeavour.”

“But, no Angelus?” Willow confirmed.

“No,” Wesley answered. “You will be safe. But please, please trust me.”

“Where do we go from there?” Tara asked, trying to sort her mind into a working state.

“Get everything you need and head to Spike’s old crypt. Angel will be there and he will explain. He’s waiting for you and time is of the essence,” Wesley commanded, watching the girls nod and head towards the closest vehicle. If they were going to try to pull off something magical after the day they had both had, using their driving skills was probably the only way there.

“Careful, Wills,” Xander called after, entranced by, and a little afraid of, the light show coming from the second floor of the house.

“Always,” Willow called back, climbing into Angel’s car. Keys in the ignition. Yeah, who’d steal it anyway?

Another loud crack from inside. “Shall we?” Wesley asked as Gunn leaned down for the helm axe he’d dropped when aiding Willow.

“No better time than the present,” Gunn answered.

“Except for Tuesday,” Xander chided, as they all started down the walk. “I’ve always liked Tuesday.”

~~@~~@~~

With a crash, as if the turning of the knob was just for show, the Master appeared in the room, shards of broken door splintering at all angles. Buffy ducked, shielding her eyes from the fallout, and turned her head to make sure no nasty piece of wood had embedded itself into her beloved’s heart.

Did that still work?

Either way, he was okay and Emma was tucked behind him.

“Stupid trick for a Vampire,” Buffy argued, straightening. “You know, with the severe wood allergy.”

The Master reached up, lowering his hood to reveal a handsome, boyish face. Like an Eighties teen actor or something. Handsome and wholesome and completely unlike the kind of creature she *thought* should be wielding such power.

“Such things do not affect me anymore,” the Master answered, humour in his voice as he looked down at the stake in her hand.

“Oh,” the Slayer answered, a pang of fear nowhere near the size she thought it should be, clenching in her belly. Maybe the Hellmouth had finally jaded her.

The Master looked around. “I am Zahn, of the order of Carnelian. The eldest Master remaining on the planet. “

“Thanks for the intro,” Buffy replied, stalling, trying to think of anything *else* she might have handy. Stakes might not work, but she had yet to meet a Vampire who wouldn’t go with a good beheading.

“I’ve come for the Peacemaker and the Key. I sense that the latter is not here. For some reason, I cannot sense her at all anymore…”

“Go, Willow,” Buffy replied under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Not here,” the woman said out loud. “Sorry.”

The Master nodded. “But I do believe that my prize lies right here. Silent as a lamb.” He looked to the bed, eyeing Emma as a hungry wolf would size up prey. “She is still in her human form. Even better.”

“We kinda like her that way,” Buffy remarked. Damn. Where did Spike put that machete after patrol the other night?

“She is not truly yours, you know. You should not rue your parting,” the creature began again, shucking his coat from his form and folding it neatly before placing it on a chair. Underneath, he was wearing simple, Vampire-ish attire. Black fitted pants. A black, matte shirt, buttoned to the high collar. Nothing quite as flashy as Angelus or as low key as Spike, but they all must have the same stylist.

Buffy let her broken arm rest across her belly in a protective gesture. “Well, a few months growing inside of me and a life and death delivery sort of beg to differ. She’s ours.”

“I’d forgotten what it was like to be human,” the Master commented, pacing near the door. He shrugged, sighing. “Either way, she will leave with me. “

“No,” Buffy answered simply. “Really, not.”

Again, the Master sighed. “I don’t see why you fret. You’ve another. Not to mention the child of shifting soul inside.”

That got her attention. “What? How do you…? What do you mean?”

A chuckle was her response. “I’d love to see your reaction when you’ve been informed.”

“Huh?” It was all becoming a little too much for her at this point. She was expecting an epic battle, not a chit-chat about her offspring. He wasn’t about to tell her anything, either way. “Look, Zahn, you can creep me out all you want, but you’re not taking Emma.”

“The Peacemaker.”

“My daughter.”

“I’m afraid I am. And, without your mate, and with your… human limitations,” he nodded at her arm, “you are hardly in a position to stop me.”

The Slayer gritted her teeth. “Then I’ll die trying.”

“As you wish,” the Vampire responded and took a step toward her, raising his hand.

A crack, and the air shifted. Two beings appeared in the corner. Buffy didn’t have time to turn and look, only to take the chance and run at the Master, landing a perfect roundhouse and knocking him back into the hallway. The Master was stunned, but regained composure, scanning the hall and the doorway, trying to see what had happened. Buffy rushed again, barely hearing the second crack and the flash of white light behind her as she ran at the creature with all momentum behind her.

With a flick of the wrist, the Master pushed her back, magic crackling in the air. She reeled against the doorway, steadying herself as he advanced. With a flourish, he drew a sword from his belt.

That might work, Buffy thought, trying to formulate a plan to get it away from him before he decided that a skewered Slayer was the best Slayer. She ducked as he brought the metal down at her and kicked him back, trying to maintain balance with only one arm. But he was too fast, catching her bad shoulder and driving her to the floor.

Buffy rolled, swiping her feet under the Master’s and bringing him to his knees, unfortunately, on top of her shins. Not good. He raised the sword again, aiming it at her throat as she thought wildly about how to get out from under him. How to get the sword away. How to protect Emma. Spike.

“No, you don’t,” came the welcome voice from above, and Buffy saw a hand dart out from the side of the bed and grab the wrist of the Master, twisting it until he dropped the sword. “Not nice to pick on wounded Slayers.”

“Spike?” Her voice was full of relief.

“Hey, Love. Told you not to take him on alone.”

A fearsome glare shot from her eyes to his. “Uh, not much choice, Sleeping Beauty.”

He was silent for a moment, holding the Vampire’s arm and scanning the room. “Love?”

“What now?”

“We’ve got another problem.”

“What?”

“Noticed a portal from Hell opening recently?” Spike asked, pushing the Vampire back, allowing Buffy to wriggle out from underneath.

“So that’s what it was!” the Master commented, still a bit taken aback by the surprise awakening of the other half of the One and the complete surrealism of this life.

“There was some noise,” Buffy answered honestly.

“Bugger,” Spike groaned, watching the two forms step out of the darkness. “Seems as though we’ve got company, Pet. “ A pause. “More company.”

“Hey, sweet pea,” Luke chanted, waving at Buffy as she climbed up from the floor. “We’ve come for our girl – Emma.”

“Emma.”

To be contd.

Title: Fifty-Four Minutes (Chapter Forty-One - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com

Summary: A slew of things are going on in Spike and Buffy’s bedroom, although none of them are of the fun type of naughty. Xander, Gunn and Wes arrive to save the day – or die trying. Willow and Tara make a gruesome discovery. Although not in this order!

Fifty-Four Minutes

“What do you think Wesley was talking about?” Tara asked as she and Willow sifted through a trunk in the upper level that Giles kept locked. Stuff that wasn’t to be messed with except in case of dire emergency.

Willow suspected this might be one of those cases.

“I don’t know, baby,” Willow asked. Tara had heard the story of the first incarnation of the Scoobys’ use of the Orb, so she knew what it was for, but with Wesley’s reassurance that there *was* no Angelus, she couldn’t fathom why they’d need it.

Tara began to slip some extra ingredients into her bag from the shelves. “You know, Willow, we’re probably strong enough together now to bind Angel’s soul…”

The redhead stopped her packing and looked over at her mate. “I never even thought of that!”

“Just saying,” Tara answered, smiling shyly. “Life… er, unlife too, I guess… is always a little better with…”

“Some hot, sweet, lovin!” Willow completed. “Know what we need?”

“I have an idea,” the shyer woman answered. “You think it’s okay? I mean, we can ask his permission first.”

“I don’t think we’ll need to.”

“Willow?” Tara reprimanded, always on the lookout for lapses into abuse of power with her reformed lover.

Willow sighed. “I meant, I think it’s implied, but we can ask. If… if the opportunity arises.”

“Good,” Tara answered, beginning her search again. “I still wonder what we need the orb for.”

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

~~@~~@~~@~~

Angel sat on the cold stone of the sarcophagus, her chocolate hair draped over his lap, her heavy head balanced on his thigh.

It had been fifty-four minutes since she died.

Fifty-four minutes.

Since he killed her.

The smell of blood was still fresh, but his stomach roiled it. The smell. He’d wiped her mouth after he’d fed her, hardly able to face what he’d done. What *she’d* have to do to still be with him. If that was even what she wanted.

If not, he wouldn’t do to Cordelia what he’d done to Drusilla. Let her suffer on. He’d be stronger. He’d be like his grandchilde and take the responsibility to let her go.

Absently, he stroked that long, dark hair, watching skin drained of life pale even further, minute to minute. Feeling the last of her warmth seep into cold stone. Thinking of all the things she would miss. Days at the beach. Shopping on Rodeo at lunch. The race of her heart when she got excited.

But if he let her go…. Angel still couldn’t fathom the thought.

He’d teach her. Teach her how to live like this. And she wouldn’t have the knowledge of thousands of lives ended at her own hands because she’d never have to do that to survive. He’d protect her. Show her straight off the way that he chose – the way that Spike chose.

And the Witches were getting stronger. Maybe, one day, they’d figure out a way to let her sit on the beach on a lazy Saturday, or shop on her lunch break once again.

In the meantime, Angel hoped, Cordelia would want to still *be*. To still be *here*. To still be with *him*. To understand he couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t stop loving her. Not now. Not yet.

Not ever.

Fifty-four minutes.

~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~

With a skid, the three humans appeared in the bedroom door. What met them was a sight they hadn’t quite expected.

Spike was sprawled over the bed, one arm extended and holding the wrist of the Master as one would hold the arm of an errant child. Buffy sat on the floor beneath the captured Master, a sword next to her, with an annoyed look on her face.

And an amused Hellgod and … some other evil entity were approaching the bed with satisfied smirks on their faces.

Xander, being a little more in tune with how things worked in this end of town, scanned the room for something else. A small, blonde, something else crouched on the far end of the room next to the nightstand.

His heart sped up at the sight.

Spike shifted his gaze to the men in the doorway, catching Xander’s eye and following the man’s gaze. With a quick nod, Spike gave Xander his assignment, and then turned his eyes on the other two.

“Bit of help here?”

The words set off a flurry of activity, as if the pause button had been depressed, and the world began full-tilt. The Master leapt to his feet, pulling Spike into a forward roll off the bed. Buffy ducked down, reading the movements and taking her chance, grabbing the sword as she wriggled away.

Wesley and Gunn darted into the room, heading for Luke and Gwydion. In hindsight, Spike wasn’t quite sure that the two humans had *known* they were about to enter battle with a Hellgod, even one as inept as Luke, but at least they’d be a distraction while the One dealt with the Master. A distraction hopefully smart enough not to get dead.

Angel would probably never forgive him if Spike let two of *his* Master’s finest fall into the waiting jaws of death.

Have to make this quick, then.

As Buffy closed in on the Master, Spike noticed Xander leave the room quietly. Smart bloke, when he wanted to be. Vampire senses heightened, the blond could hear the adjoining bathroom door click open from the hall, and near-silent feet pad over tile to the door back into the bedroom closest to where Emma was crouched in the corner.

But then the battle drew him back.

A primal scream from Buffy as she heaved the sword one handed, amazingly balanced for having her other arm completely unused, and Spike tried to catch her as the Master pushed her back with a flick of the wrist. Stupid git with his unfair uses of magic. And Wes was tied up with the other two morons.

Plan B. “Give me the sword, Love,” Spike whispered as she fell back into his chest. She glowered for a moment before he kissed the crown of her head. “Got two arms and have a better chance of knocking him back a bit. Need you to keep him busy so he can’t blindside us with the mojo.”

She nodded quickly and used her position against Spike to launch herself back into the fray.

Wesley and Gunn were meeting a similar fate as they set upon Luke and Gwydion. Luke had apparently been practicing his skills as a Hellgod and blew the pair back into the edge of the bed with palm held out and a word that neither understood chanted into the dead air of the room. Gwydion slid sideways around Luke and set off towards the corner of the room where Emma hid, watching the doorknob behind her turn slowly.

A crack of thunder and a blinding flash of white light stopped them all in their tracks once again.

“Oh, *now* what?” Spike complained, sword held high for a blow. “Whatever happened to ordinary battles?”

“Pardon me for interrupting,” the Queen snarked back, although no body accompanied the sound. “I felt it only fair that if the darkness could intervene on behalf of *their* agent…”

“Oh, it’s *you*,” Spike answered, earning an eyebrow raise from Buffy. What? She couldn’t hear it?, he thought.

“Thank you,” she answered the Voice, putting an end to that theory.

“You are welcome,” the Queen answered, the white glow extending, searching, finding its targets and effectively freezing them in place. “And thank you for giving Drusilla another chance. Poor, sweet girl.”

With a pop, the Voice, the glow, and the Hellgods were gone.

The room was paused again for a moment while Wesley and Gunn panted from the exertion of trying to take on those way out of their league, Xander stood with the door cracked, reaching for Emma, Buffy glared at Spike in stunned disbelief, and the Master was too confused by the complete strangeness of this world to do anything but stand and stare.

“What?” Buffy finally asked.

Spike swallowed. “Think we have something else to deal with first, Pet,” he croaked out, more afraid of the conversation to come than he was of the Master Vampire with a pocket full of magic.

“What?” Buffy asked again.

“Watch out!” Gunn screamed as the Master came back into the battle and realized his chances at the prize were growing slim. With a jump, the dark haired Vampire threw himself across the bed, laying out flat in order to get to Emma before Xander could get her through the door.

Xander saw the move, almost anticipated it, and threw the bathroom door open wide, stopping the airborne Vampire just before his prize. Emma screamed and Xander jumped over the body of the stunned Master, scooping the little girl up and beginning a flat run back out through the bathroom.

“One down,” Spike whispered to himself as he heaved up the sword once again and began around the bed.

“What?” Buffy asked again, following him towards the stunned Master.

“Hard of hearing, Love?”

Gunn backed away from the scene, thinking how nice it would be to face down opposing Hellgods rather than to be in the middle of an arguing One. Wesley, on the other hand, began to speak, quietly, weaving a spell to neutralize the Master’s magic.

“Don’t turn this around on me,” Buffy retorted. “Did the … Goddess lady say what I *think* she said?”

“Battle, Love? Remember? Master Vampire after our daughter?” Spike reminded, hoping it would get her off the subject until he could gather his thoughts and possibly say goodbye to the rest of his family before she killed him.

“He’s just laying there,” Buffy shot back.

“Perfect time to behead him, Pet.”

“Do it and get it over with.”

“Oh, so now you *want* me to carry the sword?”

“Don’t pull this Slayer versus Vampire, who’s the stronger one crap on me.”

“I did no such thing!” Spike retorted.

“You were gonna.”

“Was not.”

“Was so.”

“Love, the One, remember? Shared strength.”

“Drusilla?”

Shit, Spike thought. The theory that maybe she didn’t *hear* was now out the window. “I’ll explain, Pet.”

“How?”

“Battle?”

“You ain’t seen *nothing* yet.” Accompanied by an angry glare.

“Uh, guys?” Gunn stated from his place in the darkened corner. “Think he’s awake now.”

Spike and Buffy spun in perfect unison. Gunn tossed his helm axe, Spike catching it with little effort and handing the sword to Buffy.

“Battle now, argue later?” Spike asked, as the Master rose with a look of murderous rage on his face.

“Battle now,” Buffy repeated. “*So* dead later.”

To be contd.