Title: Becoming (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 18)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Spike confronts Gwydion and finds out the identity of the sandy

haired killer. Buffy races to save Emma while Spike deals with his

adversary.

Becoming

"F...father?" Spike muttered, staring wide-eyed at the creature before him. He was struck dumb and motionless at the sight. In my line, he thought. Giles said in my line. Vampires. Bloody hell, not my father. Please not my father.

The others were deadly silent, watching the two Vampires in front of them. One masquerading as a man, the other becoming. Buffy stared from the top of the steps, her eyes flipping from Spike to Gwydion. Her daughter's champion. Her daughter's killer. The same endless blue eyes. The same razor sharp cheekbones. The same dauntless presence. A shiver shot up her spine.

A horrified scream broke the silence. Spike's head instinctively whipped around at his daughter's cry and Buffy jumped, startled to attention, clutching the terrified child against her chest. "Emma," Buffy muttered, still too stunned to move.

"Go," Spike called, pushing himself upright. "I've got this, Pet."

"But..."

"Go," Spike pleaded. Buffy ducked back behind the wall at the top of the stairs.

"Named her after your mum," Gwydion said, cracked, bloody grin stretched

across his face. Spike found himself nodding in reply, still shocked into silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Xander pick up Dawn and carry her toward the kitchen.

"Pretty tot," Gwydion continued, eyes still locked on Spike. Spike scanned his father's face, memories blasting through his head like old photographs. Peeking through the picture window as his parents kissed on the front step. His father's pipe. The feel of his suit as they crawled into his lap so he could tell them tales of the world. Daisies. "Did you honestly think I'd fall for it, Wills?" Gwydion said, still locked on Spike like boxers before the first bell. "Do you find me to be that bloody stupid?"

"Couldn't tell. You were too busy hiding," Spike shot back. Gwydion

chuckled.

"And miss *this*?" the older vamp replied, patting his son's cheek.

"Why?" Spike asked, scanning the man's face. Letting his eyes drop over his features, his clothing, his crisp white shirt, immaculately pressed pants, perfectly polished shoes. He'd always been fashionable, Spike thought, cringing even as the idea came to mind. Then he noticed it. Heavy silver. A serpent curled around the sun. A blood red ruby in the center.

The amulet.

"For our kind to flourish, she must die," Gwydion answered, simply.

"Nothing personal."

"Sorry, mate," Spike said, slamming Gwydion back to the door. "Very

personal."

"You and love. You've always been a sap, Wills," Gwydion commented,

dramatically. "Shocked you made it this far." Spike was silent. Love had been his weakness, but also his greatest strength. The memories of this creature still flashed behind his eyes. Ice skating when he was six, clinging to his father's hand. Learning to ride a horse by galloping behind him. Watching him take care of mum. Spike had learned love from this beast that would condemn it. Well, the man before the beast. Gwydion laughed, startling Spike to attention. Spike's hand was clutched firmly around his throat.

"You'd have me live," Gwydion guffawed.

"Wha..?" Spike stuttered, still unable to string together a coherent

thought.

"Look at you, you utter...sap. What a sorry excuse for a Vampire. You look at me and see that ponce who coddled you when you were a sorry excuse for a boy and doted over that woman as if she could do no wrong." Gwydion was laughing as if the thought itself had cracked him.

Spike stared at him in confusion and rage. "You...I..." he stuttered, not quite sure where it began or where it ended.

Gwydion's cackle interrupted him. "You'd have me live," he repeated,

looking at Spike with disgust. "You'd have me meet you at the pub and throw back a pint and trade 'How I Became a Vampire' stories while watching Manchester United and showing me pictures of your sodding tyke!" he exclaimed in amazement and exasperation. "Redeem me with the ever present power of your lily-white love. You bloody Poof! What happened to the dark warrior of legend? The evil prince that Drusilla rambles on about? Hmm, *Spike*?" Gwydion spat Spike's name at his son. Spike shook in startled confusion, which was slowly turning to offense, boiling into rage.

"Well, let me tell you how this works, son," Gwydion continued, pulling

Spike's hand from his throat and dropping at his side, unceremoniously. "I am *not* a traitor to the breed. As it is your destiny to protect the girl, it is mine to destroy her. I could give a tinkers damn about you or the bloody bint you decided to play house with..." Spike slammed Gwydion hard to the wall, eliciting another cracked smile from the older Vampire. "But I came here to kill the girl. So, if you don't plan to do anything about it, then I suggest you step aside." Gwydion finished, pushing Spike with all of the human strength that he could muster. Spike did not budge.

"Do you understand, boy? Even if I do not kill her today, I *will* kill

her."

"Over my bleeding corpse," Spike hissed. Gwydion chuckled again, looking down Spike's body. The wound in his gut was seeping through the bandages, creating a slow, growing circle in the fabric of Spike's shirt.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Gwydion laughed. "You bleeding, and, of course, being a corpse."

Fury ignited Spike's blood, Buffy's blood, and he tossed Gwydion back

against the door with a thud, grabbing the amulet in one hand. "Right

then," Spike said. "Always hated the battles I knew I could win." Spike grabbed the talisman from Gwydion's chest, ripping it off and tossing it toward the living room. Immediately, his father's face changed and Spike could feel the killer inside of him rising, shifting his features, turning him from man to monster.

"Let the games begin," Gwydion blustered, taking the first swing.

*****

Buffy heard a crash and the sound of wood cracking. Emma was hysterical, clinging to Buffy, her little hands clutching Buffy's hair, her mouth parted and desperate, mewling cries escaping into the air. Buffy felt the panic rise like a tide in her veins. Spike. Don't know how long Tara's potion will last. His father. His damned father. The real one. Can't let him do this alone. Not sure if he can.

Emma clung to Buffy and she bounced her instinctively, trying to quiet her. "Look, little one," Buffy whispered, trying to get the baby's attention. The little girl's head swung back and she caught Buffy's eyes with hers. "I need to help your daddy, OK? I need you to be very quiet and I'm going to try and get you to Aunt Anya and Uncle Xander." Mommy's going to run the gauntlet, she thought, hearing the sound of glass breaking and a stream of words spit in accents so thick it sounded like a completely different language. Still, she had to help him and there was no way Buffy was leaving Emma alone again.

As if Emma had been conversing with a friend, she stopped, listening to her mother and stayed perfectly still. Her little mouth closed and she looked up at Buffy with soft and wise and wet blue eyes. Endless blue eyes. "Good girl," Buffy whispered, kissing Emma's head. She stared at the landing, her heart pounding. Just as she stepped to make her move, three of the fairies hopped from the wall and landed, one of each of Emma's arms and one on her head. Buffy was alarmed, but relaxed as a small kind face blinked up at her.

"Let's go," Buffy whispered, taking a deep breath and bolting around the

corner, fleeing down the steps, pausing just as the lower level came into view. The two Vampires were locked intensely in the dining room against the shattered remains of the table. Buffy moved as far to the right as she could. The fairies began to sing or hum or make some noise. Everything still moved, but it seemed as if it faded. Or they faded. Buffy clutched Emma closer and streaked down the remaining steps, through the living room and into the kitchen. The world sharpened again. Buffy wasn't sure if it had been the fairies little trick or the battle that had distracted Gwydion, but she was thankful to have found refuge either way.

The kitchen was empty. Buffy flung open the basement door with her free

hand, hurrying in and tearing down the stairs. Dawn was laid out in the

cot, awake but groggy, her head on Xander's leg. Anya sat at Dawn's feet, nervously toying with her own fingers.

"Buffy," Xander gasped as the woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "What in the.. what's going on up there?"

The crashing of wood and glass and the thudding of bodies slamming into

walls and floors with supernatural force echoed above them. "I have to

help," Buffy said, feeling resolve building again. "Dawn. Is she..?"

"I'm fine," Dawn groaned, rolling towards her sister. "Headache-y."

"Is Emma alright?" Anya asked, standing in front of Buffy.

Buffy looked down at the silent little girl with the frightened blue eyes. "I think she's alright. Just scared."

"Know that one," Dawn mumbled. Anya stretched her arms towards Buffy,

offering to take the baby. Buffy clung to her daughter for a moment, not wanting to leave her. Never wanting to leave. Another crash and a torrent of angry words came from above. Reluctantly, Buffy handed the baby to Anya, kissing Emma's forehead as she gave her up. The fairies fluttered over to the cot, alighting on Emma once again.

"I'll tell you when it's safe," Buffy said, taking off at a run towards the basement door.

*****

Willow and Tara slowly opened the kitchen door, hearing the ruckus from the street out front. Buffy burst through the basement door, just in time to see them head around the corner to peek into the dining room. "Willow?" Buffy called.

"What's with all the fightiness?" Willow asked, heading back towards Buffy.

"Get downstairs. Don't leave until I tell you," Buffy responded, gesturing at the door.

"Buffy, what..." Tara stuttered.

"Go!" Buffy ordered. They turned toward the door, knowing that it was best not to question the Slayer at times like this. Just as they were about to disappear down the steps, Buffy called after them. "Tara?"

Tara turned, looking at Buffy. Seeing the fear under the resolve. "Yeah."

"Did you find...help?"

"Yes," Tara answered, smiling hopefully. "But it's another Vampire, so he can't be here until after sundown."

"Good."

The girls disappeared down the steps.

*****

Buffy ran for the weapons chest, grabbing both sword and stake and headed for the staircase. What she saw was the most incredibly powerful and heartbreakingly sad displays she could imagine. They were both in game face, bloody, torn, battling at full force across what was left of the dining room. A gash disguised Gwydion's face with a horrible red mask, but his blue eyes pierced the haze. Spike. Spike's shirt was soaked through and his face was a mixture of horror and rage and pain. The match seemed almost even. Blow for blow. Kick for kick. Word for word. Hurt for hate.

Buffy ran into the room, throwing herself into the fray with a kick to

Gwydion's chest. The older Vampire flew across the room, smacking into the far wall. Spike spun, looking at Buffy as if shaken from a nightmare. He scanned her instinctively for injury and then for memory. "Buffy," he whispered, as if he had not seen her in years.

"Spike," she answered, touching his arm. Gwydion was stirring, pushing

himself upright against the wall. "Spike, are you.."

"Have to do this, Pet," he said, his eyes full of stinging unshed tears.

She didn't understand. At least not at first. They had always fought as one. "Please, Love."

Buffy studied his face. His longing, sad eyes. She stepped back,

stretching her hands forward, offering him the sword in her left hand, the stake in her right. He reached forward, taking the stake, his fingers brushing hers as he grabbed hold. "I love you, Pet."

"Always," she answered, backing towards the staircase as Gwydion found

purchase on the rug and lunged forward, knocking Spike to the floor. Spike growled, the rage coming back. There were no words left to say. His father had died so many years ago, and the beast that stole his body was nothing more than a common demon. One he and Buffy had battled every night. No pipe smoke. No stories. No daisies. Nothing.

Spike grunted, throwing Gwydion over his head with a push of the legs. The older Vampire was tossed into the wall like a rag doll, sliding to the floor in a heap. Spike flipped to his feet, jumping towards the struggling pile, stake raised in his right hand.

Gwydion laughed.

Spike hesitated.

"You can't do it," Gwydion said, reaching down, grabbing for a splintered table leg.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled from the stairs. Spike spun, kicking the wood from Gwydion's hand.

"You'd *still* have me live."

Spike shot a glance at Buffy. She stared at him with sad eyes, finally

understanding. Why this, she thought. Why take away this too? It seemed everything good had been taken from them. Every memory. Everything but each other.

"Spike stepped toward Gwydion, planting a boot in his gut. Gwydion laughed, coughing, blood trickling from his lip. "Son," he whispered, staring up at Spike with clear and empty eyes.

"You are not my father. My father is dead," Spike sputtered, leaning

forward and plunging the stake into Gwydion's chest.

*****

Buffy ran into the dining room as Gwydion's shocked expression dissolved

into a shower of ashes. Spike fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. Buffy skidded to her knees next to him, touching his face, turning it towards her. His eyes. Behind the dewy tears, she could see them changing. That cold vacant stare slowly pushing out the blue.

"Spike?" Buffy asked, as he doubled forward, his hand slapping against the wound in his gut. She looked down and saw the blood seeping through his fingers, dripping in silent pools to the floor. "Spike.." she gasped.

His head whipped up and he stared at her face, studying it, taking a

snapshot to carry around in his mind. To add to the millions of others that were already there. "Buffy, I.."

"Spike, are you alright?"

"Buffy?" he looked at her, confusion passing over his face. His brow

furrowed as he toppled back. Buffy caught him before he hit the floor,

pulling his head into her lap. "Buffy, Love," he whispered, looking up at her, his confusion now terror.

"Come on, Spike. The doctor will be here soon," Buffy whispered, her own tears falling. Soon was not soon enough. She knew it. She felt it rip through her heart like a sword. Buffy pressed her hands against the wound trying to physically hold it together. Make it stop bleeding. Make it stop killing him. "Spike, hang on. It'll be OK. We'll set things right. Always do." He just stared at her quizzically, faintly remembering saying that to her. "Tara! Willow!" Buffy screamed, as his eyes became more vacant. There was less and less of him in that gaze.

"Am I dying?" Spike asked, almost like a child. Buffy choked, her tears catching in her throat.

"I won't let you," she answered, tears slipping down.

"Can't cheat death, Love," he whispered. "You know that."

"Then don't go," she replied, hearing feet stampeding up the stairs. "Stay with me. Stay with Emma. We need you. I need you, Spike."

He smiled at her. "Not half as much as I have needed you," he answered.

Willow and Tara appeared in the doorway. Buffy turned her head, her body shaking, glancing over at the girls. When she turned her head back, Spike's eyes had closed. His gentle face was slack. Like a little boy. Asleep.

To be contd.

Title: Ether (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 19)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Spike moves on. Buffy tries to anchor him to this existence. An unlikely hero tries to rescue them, but will it be in time?

Ether

The room was unnaturally silent. Buffy's tears streamed down her face, but her breathing had all but stopped, almost as if she was caught in time. Waiting. Willow and Tara were like statues standing in the doorway. What was there left to say? Suddenly Spike looked neither big nor bad. Neither Vampire nor Man. Something else. Something deeper, wilder than all of them and more infinite than time.

"Is... is he?" Tara stuttered.

"I.. I don't know," Buffy answered, her eyes wide as if she were unsure of what to do next. Where to go. Willow slowly walked to Buffy and Spike, lowering next to them and laying a hand on Buffy's folded knee. The simple gesture shattered the Slayer. Buffy felt as if she had been molded of ice and then smashed with a sledgehammer until the splinters of her existence were carried off in the breeze. As if she were no longer there and her essence was above them, tangled in his, dancing in the ether that was neither here nor there.

Buffy barely noticed Willow pulling Spike's shirt up, exposing the re opened gash, peeling the sodden bandages from his skin, mopping him with her own sweater. She never heard her frantically ordering Tara to run and find a way to get the doctor there, sunlight or no. Telling Buffy that he was still there. That he had not moved on yet.

But Buffy already knew. She was with him, his fingers light as air entwined in hers. Their bodies moving slowly to unheard music in an unseen place.

The last dance.

Even in the vast expanse of nowhere she tethered him. Bound him to her. He looked at her teary, frightened eyes, and she could see him saying goodbye. Still she pulled him tighter against her and willed the music to go on.

"Buffy, you know I have to go," he whispered, brushing the hair from her

face, pushing loose strands behind her ear.

"You have to stay. I can't do this without you."

Spike smiled at her softly, his palm resting on her cheek. "You could

always do this. Before me. After me. With me. I didn't stay because I had to, Pet."

"But I need you," she whispered, trying to focus on his eyes. His endless eyes.

"I'll be nearby. One day, Love. We'll find peace together." He leaned

down and kissed her lips so softly that it felt as if the air itself had

kissed her. The tears streamed down her face and he wiped them away one by one with his thumb.

"At least stay until the dance is over," Buffy asked, burying her head in his shoulder. Spike wrapped one arm around her waist, stroking her hair with the other.

"Alright, Pet. Anything for you."

*****

The front door kicked open and Willow jumped from her spot hovering over the failing Vampire. Angel burst through covered in a blanket. Despite herself, she almost chuckled, remembering the countless times Spike had forced his way in a smoldering bundle. Spike. Willow lowered her head again, back to pressing on the wound, trying to make the blood stop. Buffy never moved. Never flinched. Just sat with his head in her lap, her hands on his cheeks, with big, heavy tears dropping from her open eyes.

"Willow?" Angel asked, tossing the blanket on the stairs and stepping into the dining room. "Willow, is he... dead?"

"Not quite," Willow answered, looking up at Spike's grandsire, her own eyes dewy and exhausted. "It won't be long now," she continued, sadly.

"What's wrong with Buffy?"

Willow glanced over at the Slayer. " I think she is saying her good-byes."

Angel looked at her strangely. "Saying?"

"They're both still here. She'll come back when he moves on. I think, at least," Willow stuttered. Angel stared at the pair for a moment and felt something move deep inside of him. He, Angel, was meant for the Slayer. That's what he had been told. But in that one moment, he understood that they had been horribly wrong. He could never love her as completely as Spike had loved her. Buffy would never love him as she loved Spike. It was *that* love. That brutal, beautiful, angry, passionate, trusting, grown up love that would save them all.

"Where's Emma?" Angel asked. There was no choice anymore. Spike could not die. Not that Angel had not thought about it thousands of times over the century plus since Spike's creation. But Buffy, Emma, all of them needed him.

"Hunh?" Willow asked, a little shocked by the question.

"Emma?"

"Angel, Emma shouldn't... she shouldn't see this. She's only a baby."

"She's older than us all, Willow. Just tell me where she is."

"You aren't going to... hurt her, are you?" Willow asked, a little

frightened. Angel looked at her in utter shock.

"No! Angel... not Angelus. I have... I had... a child of my own."

Willow looked at him, compassion crossing her face. "Anya has her. They're in the basement."

*****

Buffy could feel Spike slow until they were no longer dancing. Until they were only wrapped in each other's warmth. There was no more music. Just the silent haze and soft light. She clung to him as Emma had clung to her. Desperate. Full of want and need and fear. Afraid to let go or he might just disappear.

"Love," he whispered into her hair. "I'm dying."

"I know," she answered softly.

"Running out of time, Pet. Otherwise you could fill your dance card with only my name."

"Isn't there any way we could stay here? Rest?" Buffy asked, still tangled in him.

"They need you. Emma needs you."

"You're her champion," Buffy said, looking up at him like a child.

"That's the tough thing, Pet. Champions always fall."

"But there are still battles left," she pleaded.

"Nothing you can't handle, Love."

Buffy was silent, thinking, hoping she was wrong. "Do you want to go?" she finally asked.

Spike pushed her away enough to see her face, his arms still locked firmly around her tiny body. "No." he answered, falling one last time into the emerald pools in which he had been drowning since he first laid eyes on her in that school. "If it were up to me, Pet, we'd never be apart."

"So stay," she begged, knowing it was not his choice to make.

He smiled sadly at her. "I love you, Buffy."

"I know. I love you too." Spike fell silent, his face slacking. "Is

this... is it time?" she asked, still clinging to him like a life raft on a raging sea.

"Think so, Pet."

*****

Angel pounded up the staircase, carrying the restless baby cradled against his chest. Anya had protested, citing every excuse Buffy might have made, but, in the end, didn't fight as Angel loosed the girl from her arms.

Somehow, it rang true to Anya. What Angel had said. The words were like a rhyme stuck in her head. The tune she could not remember, but the words she knew were true. Emma could save those who saved her. She watched Angel dart up the stairs, steadying Xander's protests with a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"This is bigger than us," Anya whispered to Xander. "It's hard to remember sometimes in a dimension as narrow as this, but there *are* things bigger than us."

Xander was silent, stroking Dawn's hair. The teen shifted, tired eyes

fluttering open. "I want to go upstairs," Dawn whispered.

Xander looked down at her. "Dawn, I don't think Buffy would want that."

"*I* want that," the girl said, sitting up on her own.

"I'm not sure you'll like what you see," Anya told the girl.

"But...what Angel said..." Dawn stuttered.

"Dawn," Xander sighed, "we don't know if he knows anything at all."

"And it will only work if Spike's still alive," Anya added,

matter-of-factly. Xander shot her the lack of compassion warning glare.

"Well, it's true," Anya defended.

Dawn was silent. Spike. He'd managed to be everything to her at one point or another. Her first real crush. Then her friend. Her confidant. Her brother and her father, and always her protector. "Then I need to say goodbye," she whispered, teary eyed. "I have that right, don't I?" Those big innocent eyes melted into water.

Xander stared at her softly. "Yeah, Dawn. I guess you do."

*****

"Angel," Willow gasped, her eyes soft and watery, her hands pressed hard

against Spike's wound. "What are you doing? She shouldn't be here."

"Willow, if Emma's really the Peacemaker, she can help Spike," Angel said, kneeling down opposite her.

"Help? How? Have you gone all loony? She's a little baby."

"Because the Peacemaker is... well, it's like Dawn being the Key. Dawn's a kid, but she's been in the universe for ages. You ask her to explain how dimensions open or how she can do it and she can't tell you, because it is not a memory. It's what she is. Emma is the same way. She's a little baby, but she's older than time. She doesn't know she can do it. She just can."

Willow looked at Angel skeptically, her wrists sore, her hands white and

bloodied from holding on to Spike. Trying to keep him alive. "Angel, how do you know this?"

"Look at it like this, then. Do you actually think that he's going to make it until the doctor gets here?"

Willow looked down on Spike's blanched and sunken face. Felt the warmth

slipping through her fingers. "No," she answered meekly, her own tears

sliding down. Not so long ago, she would have never even imagined shedding a tear over Spike. But he had saved her that night in the schoolyard. Then he had done for her what no one else would do. He forgave her.

"Your debt to me is cleared." She heard his voice in her mind.

Spike had been... truer ... to them all. But especially to her.

"So, will it hurt to try?" Angel asked, still holding Emma against him,

stroking her back, fighting his own longing and hurt from remembering

holding Connor.

"No," Willow answered, moving her hands. They heard the basement door open and footsteps patter into the dining room. Dawn walked over to their huddled forms. Numb. Like her sister, the tears streamed softly down her pale cheeks, but she said nothing. Slowly, Dawn sank to her knees at Spike's hip, pulling his hand into her lap, tracing his fingers with her own. Trying to anchor him in this realm as Buffy was tethering him in ether.

*****

Spike felt his body jerk and he tugged against Buffy, even as he tried to move away. Like his feet were being sewn with silken thread to the fog that surrounded him. He opened and closed his hands behind Buffy, feeling the pull, the sudden change in density.

"What is it?" Buffy asked, her head falling back so that she could see his face. She was afraid to move her arms from around him. Like a child afraid of letting go of the string of a balloon. Afraid he might float away.

"Don't know, Pet," Spike whispered, pressing his chin to her forehead.

"Feels like something grabbed hold."

"Then don't let go," Buffy muttered, still clinging to his waist.

*****

Angel gently loosed the tot from her death grip on his shirt, turning her towards Spike and sitting her on his bent knee. The wound was raw and wide, like a chasm in a granite sea. Nothing a baby should ever see. Nothing anyone should, for that matter. Xander cringed as Angel eased the child forward, holding her with one arm around her middle, the other guiding the girl towards the horror that was killing her father. Willow cringed, but Dawn was silent, watching. Waiting. Buffy was still, threading between the worlds, weaving a silken rope between she and her love. Praying that it would bind them in one world or the next, or even the spaces in between.

Two chubby palms pressed against pale skin, igniting the pooling blood into a silvery stream. Spike's body shuddered, then seized, shaking

unconsciously as the baby crawled closer. Angel's arm stayed protectively around the baby's middle as she crawled. The silvery blood glowed with an iridescent shimmer, then drifted slowly away like dust in the wind. The baby stopped, stretching herself on her father's stomach as she had so many times before, and her forehead rested with a thud just below the wound.

Willow gasped. Dawn froze, clinging to Spike's hand as much for her own

comfort as his. Xander and Anya watched with fear and wonder. Angel still clung to the baby although she seemed herself to become ether in his grip.

Emma began to shimmer like moonstone glimmering in the sun, her form becoming liquid, her beauty becoming ethereal, immortal. She seemed to

change as seamlessly as rain to steam on heated pavement, her small body

melting into mist until all that was left in front of the frightened

onlookers was a glimmering tiny tracing. A beautiful silvery shadow, curled against his skin.

The blood became mercury and the mercury, a silvery film in the air. The ragged edges of the torn flesh began to close slowly, as if being knit together stitch by painstaking stitch with silken spider web. No one moved. No one dared to speak. What was in front of them was more than they could fathom. Her moonstone body and mercury movement melting, reshaping, shimmering into the air. The scent of vanilla filled the room, intoxicating them all. Comforting them. Giving them peace.

*****

A sound like the click of heels on marble startled Spike. He craned his

head, turning away from Buffy, his fingers still entwined in his love's.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yes," Buffy asked, her brow furrowed.

A chair appeared in the fog in front of them. Then the scent of vanilla

filled the air. Spike sniffed, filling his nose with the sweet smell.

"She's here."

"Who is?" Buffy asked, clinging to Spike's hand, but exploring the space with her eyes in childlike wonder.

"I am," a smooth, rich voice with just a hint of an accent said softly into the ether. The young woman sat down gently in the chair. No older than eighteen, but with timeless beauty and wordless wisdom.

"Emma?" Spike asked, his voice quiet.

The girl smiled serenely back. "Mum," she said nodding at Buffy. "Daddy."



To be contd.

Title: The One (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 20)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: While the SG tries to save Spike, Buffy and her love are caught in the ether with the Peacemaker where they are told a story that changes everything.

The One

Emma sat down primly in the chair, her body glimmering in the ethereal

light. She moved as if she were made of the air itself; fluid and flowing and gentle and whole. She appeared to them as she had in hell. Young and ancient, delicate and stronger than the Earth itself.

"Emma?" Buffy muttered. The girl smiled in response.

'Sit down. I've a story to tell you," Emma said in her enchanting, warm

voice.

Spike and Buffy exchanged a glance. Wasn't it only a week or two ago that they had told her stories, changed her diapers, tucked her in? "Sit," Emma repeated, smiling broadly.

Spike dropped to the floor, crossing his ankles like a child in

kindergarten. Buffy eased down next to him, her hip flush to his. Spike pulled her hand back into his lap, felling his fingers ebb and flow through hers.

"In the beginning," Emma said, "there was but One..."

*****

"Angel?" Dawn said softly, "Is it working?"

The wound was closing slowly, but neither Buffy nor Spike had moved since Emma first touched him. "I... I don't know," Angel answered, confusion in his voice.

"His cut is closing. That has to be good," Willow, ever the optimist

recently, pointed out.

"But he's not...they're not... moving," Dawn stuttered.

"Maybe it just takes time, Dawnie," Willow commented, patting Dawn's knee.

"Is Emma OK like that?" the teenager asked, staring at the shimmering

shadow still stretched along Spike.

"I think," Anya began, "I think that's what she looks like. I mean really."

Dawn turned her head to look at Anya. "She's all...glowy." She thought for a minute. Not so far away from me, she thought. "Guess it must run in the family."

*****

"One?" Buffy asked. "What beginning? Which beginning?"

Emma smiled softly, reaching forward to put an impossibly soft finger over Buffy's lips. "Shh, this is not the kind of story of which you ask

questions," Emma continued. The silvery young woman took a deep breath,

sitting perfectly straight with her hands clasped atop her thighs. Spike was silent, watching.

"In the beginning, there was but One," Emma repeated. "One seed which

carried infinite power. The hopes and fears of all the world. Neither good nor evil, dark nor light. One." She held a shimmering finger in the air.

Spike and Buffy were enraptured by the pattern of her speech, her smell,

even the humble beginnings of her story. They stared at her like awed

school children. "The Powers that Be decided that no one being should carry the burden of such power alone. In the womb of the mother, the seed was split in two, but the fission was merely physical. In all other respects, the two were still but One. One heart, One mind, One essence, One soul.

The mother gave birth to twins, one male, one female. Alike in every sense of the word. Their thoughts were shared. Their emotions. Still but one soul animating them both. The pair existed symbiotically, almost as if one was the right hand, the other the left. In these strange times, demons and humans coexisted, albeit not always peacefully, but in understanding. The seed of the mother was neither demon nor human. Neither inherently good nor evil.

Draconius was the leader of the Council at this time... "

"The Council of Watchers?" Buffy asked, her brow furrowed.

"The predecessor of it, yes. At this time, there was really nothing to

watch. The Council oversaw and guided the peaceful coexistence of the

races and dimensions. Draconius felt the power of the pair born of neither one world nor another. He felt their connected essences. Their shared soul more powerful split in two than any other one in existence. The Council was a harmonious group, however, Draconius had an agenda. He made a blood pact with a particularly virulent demon cult. In return for eternal life and endless spoils, Draconius promised the division of the dimensions. You see, the demons knew that they were much more powerful than the humans, and without intervention from the Council, they could easily defeat the humans and lay claim to this plane of existence."

Spike stared at Emma intensely, listening to the one story he had not heard. Giles had alluded to the beginnings of this journey, but Emma seemed to know. As if she had been there. Buffy tried to pull it all together in her mind. Tried to understand why it was being told. Why now?

"Draconius saw the perfect opportunity with which to launch his plan in the two born of One. He cast a spell over the boy, utilizing all of the

borrowed black magic he could store. The spell did not remove the boy's

essence or disconnect it from the rest, but rather quelled it. Replacing it, overlaying it, with a demon soul. In effect, creating a hybrid. An inherently evil human. The monster dominating the man. The boy went nearly mad fighting the evil off, trying to rid himself of the demon and return himself to the rest, but eventually, he succumbed and began to infect others with the darkness."

"Vampires," Buffy muttered, looking up at Emma sheepishly for talking out of turn. Again.

"Exactly," Emma responded, her perfect, smooth voice lulling Buffy back to silence. "The remaining members of the Council caught wind of Draconius's plan a bit too late. The evil was becoming too widespread and too strong. In the end, they had only one option. To imbue the remaining half of the One, the chosen One, with all of the strength and power of good. Enough that the one half alone could conquer all of the evil."

"Slayer," Spike said, quietly.

"Yes," Emma answered. "They filled her with strength and courage and

virtuosity using all of the white magic that they could amass. Once

prepared, they sent her on a mission to destroy all evil and restore the

balance to this dimension. And she did, quite well. But a day came to pass when all that was left of her mission was she and her twin. A great battle ensued. One that changed the very fabric of time. However, when the moment came for the final blow, she could not finish her task. They had become polar opposites by design, but they were still One by destiny. No amount of magic could change the fact that they were but One. One shared essence. One shared soul."

"So she set him free?" Buffy asked.

"Yes," Emma answered. "And that is where good and evil diverged. Both

eventually were lost to the ether in body, but their essence, their soul, if you like, was passed down from generation to generation. Not along bloodlines, but along lines of strength. Lines of heart. Each generation saw more of a divergence, a shift in the essence. If the body is a chalice and the soul is that which fills the chalice, the Slayer's chalice became more full with goodness and nobility and light. The Vampire's chalice of soul became increasingly empty until only a drop remained.

The Council, now the Council of Watchers, had to maintain the balance and chose to align with the Slayer. However, a wise prophet in the beginning had foretold, that one day, the chalices would be even again. That the One that had been split would be whole again and the scales would tip even. The Council knew that this indicated that at some time, a Slayer would have to become more gray. The rogue element was the lightening of a Vampire. Once the scales were even, Peace would be restored between the worlds. Which, of course, brings me to you."

"To us?" Buffy asked.

"You," Emma began, looking at her mother. "You were chosen by the Powers long before your parents parents had been even a glimmer. You were the vessel, the chalice that could contain the essence of the One. In you, however, was also a rebuttal of your gift. Unlike any before you, other than the first, you altered your mission. Changed your being and shared your essence. First with your friends and then later.."

"Spike?" Buffy said softly.

"Right. But you are jumping ahead. Your headstrong ways and refusal to

comply with your parameters as Slayer gave the Council fair warning.

Warning that you may be the one to unite the halves. However, your chalice was still full and you possessed almost the entire remaining essence. Also, the remaining tiny piece, the drop that was missing and belonged to the boy, was still lost. The Council had thought it had been found again in Angel, when really his purpose lies elsewhere."

"Where?" Buffy asked. Spike looked at Emma and then at Buffy, gauging what they knew and what they wanted to, respectively.

"That is another tale," Emma corrected. "As our time is short, we must stay on course. No one had really noticed Father. Even the Powers had not thought to look there."

"Story of my sodding existence," Spike huffed. Buffy stifled a chuckle.

Emma smirked, making her father smile. She had been watching.

"Until Glory," Emma continued, coming back to topic. "Glory had been part of Draconius's plan, so when the Council heard of her resurgence in this dimension, they watched the situation closely. When Father went against the hell god with nothing to gain, no love, no victory, he acted selflessly. This is against the very nature of the Vampire. He acted with heart. With concern for other than the demon. His essence had shifted by his own power and the chalice began to fill. It became evident that the Vampire with a heart was the other half of the One.

However, to truly begin to restore balance, some had to have been drained from you, Mum. When you died that night on the tower, your soul was released into ether. Here to be exact. When you left this plane, that essence was restored to the other half. The scales tipped.

Willow brought you back against the natural order of things, so your essence was not restored with you. Actually, father had all of it. In his love for you, his ache for you while you were here, in ether, he returned your share to you, keeping only part for himself."

"So, that is why everything was so different?" Buffy asked. Spike squeezed her hand, stroking her fingers, feeling almost guilty that he had to be the one that had taken part of her light.

"Yes," Emma answered. "Although the transition was difficult, it brought balance. Began to restore the One. The convergence of good and evil began anew."

"Began?" Spike questioned, shifting, moving infinitesimally closer to

Buffy.

"For the union to be complete, the cycle has to be undone. The good must empty. The evil must fill. The halves must join in union of heart, of soul, of word, of deed and of blood. The two seeds must join into one."

"You," Spike said, staring at the shimmering girl in front of him.

"Correct. And therein Peace will be born anew. The convergence has just begun. The hearts have been joined. The words have been said. The deeds proven. For the union to be complete, the Slayer, the good, must truly accept the Vampire, the evil, for what it is. In that, he will be set free and the essences will return to balance."

"But I have..." Buffy stuttered. " I know Spike is a Vampire. It doesn't matter...anymore."

"You admit that you love the man, but not the beast," Emma said, simply.

"Be fair to your Mum," Spike said, scolding his daughter not as if she was a Chosen One older than time, but rather as an errant eighteen-year-old talking back.

Emma smiled, turning her attention to Spike. "She must be willing to love the beast. To trust the beast. To let it reclaim what is rightfully his. In that gesture, there will be no more human, no more monster. Only the One."

"I can't.. I won't... claim her," Spike stuttered, looking at Emma wide

eyed. "Not like that."

"The choice," Emma said softly, "is hers to make." Buffy looked at them as if they were speaking in a language that she did not understand. "If she does not, there is no punishment. There is no crime. But the essence will remain unbalanced and the union of the One incomplete."

"Please tell me what you are talking about," Buffy asked, frustrated, her eyes flitting nervously between them. Spike looked at her pretty eyes, studying her. He had hidden the monster from her for so long, knowing that she deserved better. That part of him was the one part that her very nature prevented her from understanding.

"Pet," he whispered to Buffy, stroking her hand again. "What she is saying is that for the balance between good and evil to be restored, you must accept both the good and the evil. That I need to embrace the lightness of you. And you have to embrace my darkness."

"I understand that," Buffy retorted, " although I'm not sure what essence really means."

"It is something without description. But, in your world, it is easiest

called a soul," Emma answered.

"So, Spike.. and I...."

"Share an essence." Emma completed. "Are the halves of the One."

"But I still have part of his half?"

"Yes," Emma answered.

"So, how do I give it back?"

Spike sighed, touching Buffy's face. She turned her head toward him.

"Accept the monster. Let the beast reclaim its share. But it doesn't

matter..."

"How?" Buffy asked, turning back towards Emma.

"He must drink from you. And you must give willingly," Emma answered.

"Blood for blood."

Buffy was silent. Spike's heart dropped. This was the one thing he never wanted to happen. He had become a man, or at least as much a man as he could hope to be, for her. She couldn't understand the monster. She only knew that to bite was to kill or to save. Spike knew that she could not love that. It was not in her nature.

"Spike," Buffy said softly, forcing him to look at her. "It's alright. I trust you." Her hands flitted to his face, landing on his cheeks as gently as butterfly wings.

"No, Buffy," Spike answered. "I have more of you than I deserve."

"It is not just you that the union effects," Emma said, looking at her

parents. "It is the beginning of the convergence of good and evil. The

consolidation of dimensions. My journey."

"You won't... nothing will happen to... if I don't... not to you..." Spike sputtered, staring at the beautiful girl in front of him.

"No," Emma said, serenely smiling. "I will still be your daughter. I am what I am. If the One is joined again, my journey is that much more

defined. My strength is that much greater as I am inextricably connected to you both. The One was the only force ever more powerful than the gods. To have that restored makes us all more likely to succeed in our quest, not to mention that it will give back what was once lost. Still, it is not my choice to make."

Spike looked lost in thought, his eyes now only on his hands. They moved over, through, around Buffy's as he thought. Buffy's heart almost broke watching him torture himself. It was her choice, her love, but he would prevent her from making it to ensure she did not get hurt. So, he was trying to make it his.

"What happens from here?" Buffy asked, trying to move on from this. To let it sink in.

"The cycle begins anew. There is an element rising in the Council that

wishes to destroy me and wishes to divide the union of One if it comes to pass. That is who helped Gwydion and that is who will send the rest," Emma replied.

"The rest?" Buffy asked.

" There will be many more threats, most of which will trace back to him.

He will hide behind the glamour of rank and rarely do his own bidding, but Draconius has returned and will not stop until we are all destroyed. The three of us. Or until we can defeat him. But it will take all three."

"But..." Buffy said, suddenly forgetting the tale and remembering how it

came to pass that they were here, together, to begin with. "Spike is.. he was.... Emma, he's..."

"Dying," Emma said, a sad look on her face. The moonstone girl reached out, taking one of her father's hands; the other still entwined in Buffy's. Spike looked at them both. They were so much alike, his girls. That pretty blonde hair. The slight build. The presence that filled a room with everything that was good about living. The last thing he wanted to do was leave them. Ever.

"Those who suffer in my name are saved in my name. If you wish to return, Father, you are free." Emma said, her eyes tearing.

"What?" Spike answered, his brow furrowing.

"I would like to know my father. Not stories of what he should have been, but I would like to know him for what he is. He of the heart," she said smiling. "The path is clear if you would like to come along."

"I'm not..dead? "

"No," Emma answered. "If you chose to follow us, you will be restored. If you chose to rest, the gates of Heaven will let you pass. Mum?" the girl said, taking Buffy's hand in hers. Slowly, she let her fingers slip from her father's hand. Buffy stood with Emma, looking down at Spike, her eyes trapped in his. She could feel their grip loosen, then his fingers gently pull from hers as if some unseen force had moved them apart.

"I love you," Buffy whispered, but the fog moved between them and he

disappeared from view.



To be contd.

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