Title: When Eternity Lies in the Balance

Author: Tracy (AKA Jericho TGF)

Disclaimer: The story's mine - the characters aren't. Neither is Sunnydale, LA, or...well, heaven for that matter. I'm time-sharing the Oracle's chamber, though - does that count?? Don't sue me. Please.

Spoilers: All of it - the whole kit and caboodle. Every single one of the 100 eps are fair game here (If you haven't seen 'The Gift' yet you may not want to read this)

Distribution: I'm thinking yeah...as long as I know where it's going beforehand and my name is on it.

Summery: Spike gets tapped by the Powers That Be to restore the way things should be. Problem is, Spike doesn’t work and play well with others. He is none too pleased with the PTB’s suggestions, either. S/B eventually, otherwise what's the point?

Rated: R

Note: “italicized words” equal mind speech.

Dedications: Kelly, I don’t have the words to tell you what you mean to me. You are the reason, and I thank you. Helen, Trish, and Isabelle – you’ve all been staunchly supportive, and you deserve a bucketful of gratitude for being patient with my many neurosis. Thanks.

In a room with walls of marble and a floor of granite, two entities stood anxiously by and stared into the dark pool of water at their feet. Images flashed in the reflecting surface and the entities frowned as one as they watched the players struggle against their fate. Despite their efforts, it was soon over and the dimensional walls fell before the entities' speculative gaze.

Hell, all manner of Hell, had been released as it was foretold, though they had observed the warriors’ futile battle to prevent such a thing from ever happening. Nothing foretold ever failed to come to pass, however, and such grave matters as an apocalypse were closely monitored by the creatures whose job it was to maintain the balance between the forces of dark and the forces of light, not just in the world they were currently observing, but in all worlds and all dimensions.

All in all, things were progressing nicely.

The entities started to relax.

It had been a close thing, a near disastrous thing, they thought. The girl, the Slayer as she was called, had almost succeeded in preventing the walls from falling. One of the two entities frowned at the child's unpredictability. There was no telling with that one, she thought, and her companion - her brother - heard the words in his head as if his sister had spoken them aloud.

“It is that unpredictability that has kept her on our path,” he chided his sister mentally. “Were it not for the strength of her will and her, shall we say, stubborn personality, the foretold would have been in jeopardy.”

A mental grumble was the only reply and he chuckled.

The scene did continue to unfold before their discerning eyes. They watched as their tool, the Slayer, tried to send The Key away from the opening portal. The Key turned, and they listened to her - for energy had been transmuted to form as it was written - explain to the Slayer that she needed to close the portal before more creatures could come through.

All was as it should be. The Slayer will allow the sacrifice, comprehending the duty set before her, and all will be in balance.

So engrossed were they in the scene before their eyes, the entities failed to notice the slight rippling of waves in the Waters of Time and Space, the pool that contained both the history and future of the eternal orders of the universe. Even had they noticed, there would have been little time to react, and their powers insufficient to prevent the unseen conflict, besides.

With no warning, they watched in growing alarm as the Slayer turned, and as if in slow motion, leapt off the two hundred foot high scaffolding and into the dimensional portal. The response to that action was not long in coming, and the entities shielded their eyes from the flash of light that preceded the restoration of the walls between dimensions.

The entities were silent. They stared in horrified fascination as the group of humans clustered around the body of their fallen warrior.

It was the sister who pulled herself together first. Frantic to discover the affect of this unseen occurrence, she waved her hand over the pool and brought future events into focus. Normally stoic and rigidly unemotional at the things that they had seen over an eternity of watching and guiding, they both gasped in surprise at the darkness and evil that was yet to be unleashed.

"This is not good," said the brother. His thoughts were in too much turmoil to attempt mind speech.

His sister whirled on him, angry and irritated. He winced slightly at the force of her mental reprimand.

“No. It is not. She is as she was made. Her...stubbornness, as you so graciously put it, has thrown off the balance completely. This was unforeseen. Do you see this?" She waved her hand quickly over the watery images displayed at their feet. "None of this was supposed to happen. Look at what she has done!”

The world's light, the universe's light was quickly being extinguished before them. It was a grim reality and they knew they had to stop it. The brother wasn't entirely sure what to do or what to think. By all accounts, the Slayer should have allowed The Key to fulfill its destiny.

"It was her sister, you fool." She interrupted his thoughts, after reading them, of course, and spoke in a ragged whisper. "She was not just human form, she was made from the Slayer. She was her sister. I warned you about that."

The brother winced at the reminder. It was true; his sister had been against allowing the transformation to human form. He was never going to hear the end of it, and there was an eternity yet to exist with her. A glance down at the future of carnage and despair made him realize that an eternity spent watching this new reality would be unbearable indeed, especially when combined with being tormented by his twin.

"We will fix this," he said to her, trying to inflect a small degree of confidence into his voice. "We can still fix this."

The sister glanced at her brother, a coldly impersonal look on her face. "No, brother. You have done enough. I will fix this."

She turned back the pages of time on the pool and reopened the chapter to the current events. The friends of the Slayer were still collected around her body and the entity reached out her mental powers to weigh the heart, mind, and soul, of each of them. They were warriors, though not as effective as the Slayer, and it was among them that she would find the one to assist her. On her third scan she stopped, tilting her head to listen to the thoughts of the one she was reading. A small smile teased the corners of her lips and she stood back from the pool.

Glancing at her brother, who had been watching her perform, she stretched out an arm and pointed down at the creature displayed in the pools reflection.

"That one. He is the one."

She clapped her hands imperiously and was rewarded with a hasty reply to her summons. One of the many assistants that were at their beck and call appeared at her elbow.

She pointed out the one she wanted and said, "Bring him to us. Now."

With little more than a stir of cool air, the assistant was gone. The entities waited anxiously for his return.

And for the arrival of the vampire that would help them.

It was over. The dimensional walls were back in place. The Scooby Gang shuffled slowly toward the body of a fallen friend, tears in their eyes and pain in their hearts.

No one was sure what had happened. The world hadn’t ended, so Buffy had succeeded in preventing the apocalypse, but at what cost? Losing Dawn, as they knew they must have – there was no other way to close the walls to the dimensions once open - was bad enough. But losing Buffy, not knowing how or why, that tore each and every one of them apart.

Spike, with one look at the broken body of the woman he loved, pressed his hands over his eyes and sobbed out his failure. He had been given a job, he’d made a promise, and he had failed. Dawn was gone. Buffy was gone.

He’d promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. The world was still here, she wasn't. And he had lost Buffy, too. He had failed utterly. And he was riddled with self-loathing and despair.

She was wrong to treat me like a man, he thought. She should never have trusted me with it. She should’ve bloody well known better. She might still be alive, at least. And Nibblet, I'm so sorry, pet. It should have been me, not you, not big sis. It should’ve been me.

Dawn, tears in her eyes, stepped away from the metal edifice that was supposed to have meant her death and moved in jerky paces to the body of her sister. Her savior. She didn't notice the gasps of surprise and shock as the gang saw her approach. She was oblivious to their muted relief that she was, in fact, still alive against all odds.

The gang held back, stunned disbelief and grief holding them in place as the reality of what must have happened slowly started to sink in. Buffy was dead. The Slayer had made the only choice she could once the walls had fallen. She had been a true hero. She had found a way to save them all.

Moving into a shaft of early morning sunlight, Dawn kept her eyes trained on the body of the person she had loved most in the world.

It's too hard, Buffy, she thought to her sister. I can't do this without you. How can I live as you asked, how can you expect me to?

Swamped by guilt and overcome by grief, Dawn collapsed at her sister's side and wept.

How long has it been since I was made human, she wondered. Nine months? A little less? And look what my existence has caused. Death, pain, war. None of this should have happened.

Giles watched Dawn and ached for her. He ached for them all. There were no words to express the loss he felt at the death of his Slayer, his Buffy. She had meant more to him than even a daughter would have, and the only thing he knew now was that this world didn't deserve to survive if it continued to ask such sacrifices from such pure souls.

The Watcher realized that against everything that was written, Buffy had found a way to keep her sister alive and save the world at the same time. Of course she would, how had he ever doubted it, she was the Chosen One.

Here they were, all of them save one. Alive…hurt but alive…and all because of Buffy's strength of character. It would be up to him, now, to guarantee that her sacrifice had not been made in vain. They were a family, Dawn's only real family, and Buffy would want each and every one of them to watch out for her sister.

She had sacrificed her life for Dawn, for all of them, and now it was their time to give a little back for that gift. The feeling of responsibility didn't lessen the pain - it hurt so very, very much - but it allowed room for direction and purpose.

Dawn felt the gentle pressure on her shoulder and she raised her tear-stained face to the gentle and compassionate gaze of the Watcher. Despite the false memories the monks had given her, memories of a father's love, Dawn knew that the man standing over her had been more of a father to her than anyone else. And she knew that even with Buffy's real history with their dad, Giles had always been more of a father to her as well. That's when she remembered the words, the last words her sister spoke to her before she had done the unthinkable.

Dawn rose on shaky legs and took a step back from Giles' now questioning gaze. There was purpose in her expression and determination in her posture. Wide blue eyes scanned the group, stopping on each one in turn, until she came to the huddled and sobbing form on her far left.

Spike. She ached to comfort him, ached to be comforted by him, because Dawn knew that he above all others had loved Buffy as much and as desperately as she herself did. And she knew that he was just as alone now, as well. But it wasn’t time yet. There was a message to be told.

The sun kissed her shoulders and turned her long, dark hair into spun gold. The group, with the exception of Spike, who was so wrapped in his own agony he hadn't noticed Dawn's approach, watched in awe as the pain of losing a sister was transformed into determination. With Buffy's last words waiting to be spoken, Dawn had become, not the weakest amongst them, but the strongest.

"She had a message for all of us," she said, her voice strong and clear despite the loss she was feeling. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Spike's head jerk in surprise at her voice as he noticed her standing there for the first time.

"She told me it was the work she had to do. She said to tell you, Giles, that she figured it out, and that she was okay. She loved all of you; she wanted you to know that. She loved me, too. Buffy said we have to take care of each other, and that I have to be strong - but I think we all do. She said the hardest thing in this world was to live in it. We need to be brave and live. For her."

No sooner was the message given then Dawn broke down once more. She was instantly blanketed in Giles' warm embrace and she sobbed out her pain in his arms. When she felt the drops of wetness hitting the top of her head she knew he, too, was grieving tearfully.

One by one the rest of the gang stepped forward to hug her and tell her how much they loved her. They told her they would each be there for her and for each other. They were a family, united in the dying wish of their friend. There was no blame, no recriminations. Grief, yes, they were all pounded relentlessly by grief, but they also had their love for each other.

Except for Spike. He held back, was held back by the glare of the morning sun. He couldn't go to Dawn. He couldn't really believe she was still alive. Somehow it seemed that he was being given a chance to redeem himself to Buffy by following through on his pledge to protect her sister until the end of the world. The end hadn't come last night, and now he had an undead eternity to as he promised. The agony of losing Buffy was in no way lessened by the gift, but he wasn’t quite so raw.

Shuffling his feet in aggravation, he cursed the inability to get near her. He had to watch as each of the gang got to ease a small part of their suffering by the blessing of contact with all that was left of the Slayer. Not him, though, he stood alone. He had always been on the outside, alone and lonely, when it came to these people. There was no comfort to be had for the monster.

Dawn leaned in and kissed Tara on the cheek, thrilled that whatever magick Willow used had brought one of her favorite people back to them. It was bittersweet but real. She turned to Giles, who was leaning over Buffy, getting ready to carry her out of there, when she saw Spike.

The naked longing on his face told her everything she needed to know. He raised a hand to her, a tragic wisp of a smile on his lips but he came no closer. She frowned, not understanding at first why he held himself back when it was so obvious he wanted to be included on this small session of grief therapy. Then she remembered. The sun. He couldn't come any closer, how stupid of her not to realize.

With a sob she stepped around Xander, who was supporting Anya's weight after letting her down from his arms to hug Dawn, and threw herself into the shadows. Into the arms of the vampire.

Spike was stunned by the effusive display. He hadn't known what to expect, but was overwhelmed by her obvious affection. It was more than he had ever hoped to have.

Wrapping tight arms around the girl, he whispered in her ear so the others couldn't hear. "I was afraid you didn't make it, Nibblet. I was so afraid you didn't make it."

His voice cracked and tears were threatening to fall again but he continued. "I can't believe she's really gone. I loved her so much. I lived for her, ya know? Would have bloody well died for her and she's gone. I don't know what to do, pet, tell me what to do."

Dawn squeezed him tightly, gaining comfort as she gave it. She pulled back slightly and stared into his eyes. She saw the torment in them and new that it mirrored her own.

"We do just what she asked us to do, Spike, we live." With a gentle touch she traced her finger down one bloodied cheek. "You did everything you could, Spike. I saw it. I know it. There was nothing else you could have done. Buffy would have known it too. She would have been grateful."

The smile he gave her was wry and self-doubting. "Nice thought, pet, and I appreciate the effort. There won't be a day that goes by, though, that I won't think of her and know I could have stopped Doc from doing what he did to you. And if I had, she'd be alive. That's my bloody cross to bear."

She shook her head at him, wanting him to understand that there was no blame to be had, no guilt that should be felt for his actions but he reached up and gripped her head gently in his hands.

"It's okay, Little Bit, don’t worry ‘bout me. I have to tell you something." He took a deep breath that he didn't need just to calm down.

"Buffy told me somethin' last night. Told me she was counting on me to protect you. I gave her my word that I would, until the end of the world. Now, it wasn't last night like we thought, and you're still here." He looked away in embarrassment briefly before continuing. "I guess what I'm bulloxin' my way through here is this...what I pledged to Big Sis I now pledge to you. Until the end of your days or the end of mine, I will be here to protect you from anything that could pop up. Seein' as this is good old Sunnyhell, I'm sure there'll be bad brewin’ soon ‘nough. Nothin', and I mean nothin' is ever going to get to you. Or if they do, they'll have to go through one mightily pissed off vampire to do it."

Dawn trembled at the intensity of his words. She had nothing to say, and was stunned by the ferocity he showed at even the thought of someone trying to hurt her. It made her feel safe; it made her feel protected. It made her feel special. But then again, she was special, wasn't she? She was the Slayer's little sister. And with Spike around she would never be alone.

Smiling gently at him, she turned, grabbed his hand, and dragged him through the shadows and around to where the group now stood watching them. Spike noticed their curious stares and the surprising absence of the hostility that was so common when dealing with him, but his eyes were drawn to Buffy's limp form being cradled in the arms of the Watcher. Even in death she was beautiful.

For you, luv, he thought to her. Everything I do and will do is for you. Don't worry about Dawn, I will always protect her. You have my word.

Giles spoke as the two joined them. "It's time to go. There are...arraignments to be made."

No one questioned him; they knew what he was referring to. They turned, walking in four sets of pairs, Tara and Willow supporting each other, Xander carrying Anya once again because she was too weak to stand for long on her own, Giles with the body of the Slayer in his arms, and Dawn and Spike, hands gripped tightly against their shared pain. They walked away from the scene of so much horror and headed home.

A crack of thunder and an eye searing flash spun them around in surprise and they girded themselves for whatever impending catastrophe was on its way.

Giles quickly lay Buffy down and turned, the witches summoned their magicks, and Xander set Anya back on her feet, both moving to battle ready status. They stared in horror as a white light formed before them as if reality was being sliced wide. A vertical tear in the air opened as they watched.

Spike pushed Dawn behind him and threw on his game face, ready to fight to the death for her.

As the light grew and the seam separated, the group squinted against the increasing brightness. The wind picked up, it howled and screamed as if the atmosphere itself was crying out in pain from the wound being inflicted on it. The tails of Spike's duster slapped painfully against Dawn's legs, but she took an instinctive step closer to his back, huddled in fear of what she was seeing.

"What the bloody hell is happening, Giles?" Spike screamed over the wind.

"I-I have no idea." He called back, using his body to shield the Slayer's from further damage. "This shouldn't have anything to do with Glory. Everyone, prepare yourselves."

Right, the vampire thought sarcastically, like I needed the bugger to tell me that.

The seam before them stretched wider and suddenly the gang could see something approaching from within the light. A very large and non-human looking something. The group exchanged confused glances, fear replacing the grief in their eyes. But they were the Slayerettes, the Scooby Gang, and fear was nothing compared to what they had each gone through last night.

Willow grasped Tara's hand tightly, preparing to zap whatever was approaching with her energies, much as she had done to Glory after she had brain-drained her love. She could feel the gathering forces of magicks and her vision narrowed, blocking out all but the approaching evil.

Spike stared, horrified, as the creature stepped out of the light and into their reality. It was huge. A good three feet taller than the vampire himself. And it looked to have spent some serious time working out; it was one walking mass of muscle. Scaly red skin covered the body and it had a face that would stop a clock. He girded himself for a quick and extremely painful encounter and threw himself at the creature.

Willow's mind call stopped him within feet of the thing. “Spike, no! Let me try first! Hit the dirt!”

Spike, still a little weirded out by Willow's ability to get into his head, did as he was told and dropped to the ground. A powerful bolt of electrical energy passed a few feet over him. He could feel the crackle of it in the air. He looked up to see what effect, if any, it would have on the demon standing in front of him.

The demon was big but it moved fast. Reaching up one clawed fist, it seemed to catch the ball of energy and hold it.

Willow's eyes widened in surprise. That was not supposed to happen. She wasn't given the time to try again. It stared at each of them, a sharp tooth grimace - possibly a grin - split its ugly features and it shoved the energy ball into its mouth, chewing slowly and with apparent pleasure.

"Okay, so maybe not trying that one again," mumbled Willow.

Spike leapt to his feet and prepared to attack the creature, a brave but decidedly foolhardy move according to Dawn, who reached out to grab the tail of his duster as he moved. He glanced back briefly, gave her a saucy smile and a wink, and threw himself at the creature. The rest of the gang moved forward as one to help.

Spike hit the creature's chest hard and was caught, quite painfully, in its grasp. It stared down at the vampire and smiled again, or at least Spike thought it was a smile, he wasn't quite sure.

Xander had picked up a discarded ax and swung at one of the legs of the beast, Anya tried to get in a swing with her bat. Willow and Tara were trying to throw together a sleep spell and Giles cocked the crossbow and shot, aiming at the face of the beast.

With the exception of the crossbow arrow, the attacks bounced off the creature. The arrow didn't even get a chance to strike home. The creature lifted Spike a bit and he felt the arrow slam into his right should.

"OWW! Bloody hell!" He hollered.

Giles had the presence of mind to look guilty. "Damn, sorry 'bout that."

Spike struggled against the grip, but the creature didn't lessen it hold. Dawn, trying to help, ran up to them and grabbed Spike by the leg, trying to pull him away from the demon. Fighting against the resistance, the creature flexed its claws, which sent all twelve of its razor sharp talons into Spike's arms, chest, and sides. His holler turned into a bellow of pain.

Dawn jumped back, upset that she had done more harm then good.

A pulse of energy emanating from the creature hit the gang and sent them tumbling back several feet. They tried to pick themselves up but they knew it was too late. The last thing each one of them saw was a struggling Spike, disappearing into the rip in the air, held firmly in a demons grasp.

Once swallowed, the seam repaired itself, the wind died down, and the Scooby Gang stared in horror at the now empty space where Spike had last been.

Dawn, shaken and afraid, stood slowly and looked around. A torturous expression set hard on her face as she turned and looked at Giles. Her voice was ragged and the events of the evening were weighing heavily upon her.

All she could manage was a small, "He's gone," before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted at his feet.

Spike struggled against the beast that had him firmly in its grasp, despite the blades of fiery heat that were lancing into his body. He dimly noticed the tear that the creature came through close up behind him. Dawn's terrified face was the last thing he saw and his mind screamed out in fury at being ripped so unceremoniously away from his duties as watchdog for the Slayer's sister.

Ranking tops on his list of worst days ever, a spot previously held by - but totally eclipsing - the day the Initiative shoved that chip in his skull, the past twenty-four hours had bore witness to the whole spectrum of Spike emotions. This latest affront was just too much to take on top of a huge list of things that were too much to take.

For long minutes he thrashed, cursed profanely, bled profusely, and thrashed some more. Nothing he did seemed to have any affect on either the body or the stride of the demon holding him. Just after acknowledging that he couldn't fight his way out of the demon's grip, the creature's hold on him shifted. Hope that he was slipping free flared briefly but was quickly dashed as he was flipped around and tossed over the creature's wide shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Talk about adding insult to injury.

Spike tried to see where he was, or to be more precise given his current position, where he had been, but the path behind him was just an unbroken wall of unrelenting blackness. Then again, it's possible that his blood, following the laws of gravity, was dripping from his chest onto his face and obscuring his vision. He didn't know which it was and it struck him that it really didn't matter, he was just as helpless to save himself either way. At least the creature's claws were no longer slicing into his body unmercifully.

The wry thought did little to soothe either his temper or his growing fear.

With each step the creature took, Spike could feel himself growing weaker and weaker. He lost track of how long they moved, but he knew he wouldn't be able to survive much more in the way of blood loss and remain mentally intact.

Losing all his blood wouldn't kill him, but as he explained to Giles once, a vampire running on empty wasn't a pretty sight. They tended to be little more than walking skeletons and not all there in the smarts department. And something told him if he had any chance at all of surviving whatever beef this creature had with him he would need to be at his tops with the wit and wisdom.

As Spike's strength waned he started fading in and out of consciousness. After what seemed like hours of dangling from the creature's shoulder, his mind started to play wicked little tricks on him.

Buffy was alive and everything was fine. He had saved Dawn and won Buffy's support and admiration. He had killed Glory just as she was preparing to crush Buffy's skull and Buffy was so thankful she kissed him again like she had in his crypt after the whole being vamp napped by Glory thing. Buffy kissed him, Buffy loved him, Buffy wanted him.

They were dreams, all of them, and farfetched ones at that. During his more lucid moments he knew the truth. He didn't care. They gave him comfort. It was all that he had left, and he knew that, too.

His favorite little exsanguination-induced dream was part fact, part fantasy. Earlier that evening (Yesterday? He didn't know anymore.), when he had gone with Buffy to get some weapons and a change of clothes for the Buffybot, Buffy invited him back into her house. He was pretty sure that was fact, along with his words to her - words that needed saying before they went into the battle of their lives. The memory was so vivid it had to be real.

"I know you'll never love me,” he’d said. “I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man."

He was going to say something else before embarrassment and common sense stopped him, he remembered that.

The part that was vague, the part Spike feared was a dream, was when Buffy smiled down at him in response and said, "You are a man, Spike. I treat you like a man because that's what you are. You're a monster, too, it's true, but you are far more man than you are monster. It wasn't always like that. It is now."

That's all she says. No words of love, no kisses or warm embraces, just that. And still it was Spike's favorite out of all of them. It was the one that gave him the most comfort. It was the one, when he clawed his way back into consciousness and remembered the dreams for what they were, that made him ache in misery. It was the one, when he tumbled back into oblivion, that he wanted to have again and again. He didn't know why.

During one of the more lurid dreams, Spike felt a sudden change in the atmosphere around him. It was significant enough to drag him back into awareness and he opened his eyes on the red, scaly backside of the demon carrying him. Normally that wouldn't be considered a good thing, but he could see it, which is more than he had been able to do before. He wasn't blinded by blood. It had been the darkness that prevented him from seeing where he had come from.

Just being able to see again re-ignited his fury at his circumstance and he dug deep into himself to pull forward a new burst of energy. With a clench of his aching muscles and a twist of his battered but wiry frame he managed to push himself off of the demon's shoulder and slide down one muscled arm.

Unfortunately, it did little to help. The demon was just too fast and caught him up easily in one meaty and talon-tipped claw.

Then, much to Spike's astonishment, the demon swung its arm back and - treating him as if he was nothing more than an oddly shaped bowling ball - sent him rolling, butt over brains, along the length of a very hard stone floor. His body came to an abrupt stop when he collided quite painfully with a marble pillar of some sort.

He lay where he was tossed for a few seconds and tried to get his addled mind to catch up with his shaken-not-stirred body. Glaring balefully at the demon responsible for his pain, Spike managed to get his feet underneath him and he rose slowly. He didn't know what the demon planned next in the way of torture the vampire, but Spike tried to be ready for whatever it was. If he was going down, he'd go down fighting, and damn the pain and blood loss.

Had the Big Bad been able to see himself, he would have been amused. He swayed on wobbly legs, one arm curled protectively around several severe lacerations - not to mention a good many broken bones (lest he forget he took a two hundred foot dive off of a Hell God's tower of terror just hours - minutes? - ago), and he had blood dripping down his face, chest, and arms. Still, he stood ready to fight the demon in front of him. A demon, by the way, that was several feet taller and several times larger than the vampire himself. Yes, if it weren't for the physical and emotional agony, Spike would have been very amused.

What the demon did next completely flummoxed the already reeling vampire, however. It changed. Literally. One minute...huge, scaly, scary, red demon - the next...short, squat, smooth-skinned, not scary, blue demon. Spike wiped a tattered leather sleeve over his eyes to clear them and looked again. It un-muddied the picture a little, but the image was the same. The red beast was gone, and in its place was a blue marshmallow-looking thing. Spike smiled viciously. This was something he could fight.

A low growl rumbled out of his chest and he ran his tongue over one of the elongated canines of his game face. "Well, well," he said, smiling sarcastically, "someone's big evil batteries run down? Let's see...whatever shall I do? Oh, I've got it. How 'bout I kill you?"

The little puffy blue guy either didn't understand Spike, or had no fear of his words, because he took several tottering steps towards the mightily pissed off and royally injured vampire with its hands outstretched like some blueberry baby doll. Shifting his weight to his back leg, Spike prepared to drop the little beastie with a spinning swing kick as soon as it got in range.

The air practically vibrated at the thunderous command. Spike forgot all about the blue demon the instant that order rang out. It was loud, so loud in fact that he had no idea if he actually heard the word or just felt it. Either way, it was loud enough to cause pain, and he gripped his head in response.

He spun wildly, noticing the room he was in for the first time since being rolled across the floor.

The walls were a pinkish-gray marble, the floor was black stone of some kind. There were pillars, he knew that when he collided with one, but he saw that there were nine of them spaced evenly throughout the room, supporting the ceiling, and they were carved with Grecian or Roman architecture in mind. There was no furniture to speak of and the only thing that would catch a person's eye was the black stairway leading up to a domed archway.

Well, that and the two people (Spike doubted 'people' was the right word, but at the moment he was at a loss for something more descriptive) standing at the top of those steps and staring down at him imperiously.

Spike gaped at the two figures with an unflattering, slack-jawed expression on his face. His human face, as the bumpy forehead/sharp tooth look disappeared at the 'desist' command. They were a surprise, to say the least. Spike had no idea anyone but the demon was in the room with him.

No sooner did the words pop into his head than the male of the pair smiled slightly and glanced down at his gold and silver toga and sandals before raising an arm and examining his gold and green skin with mock intensity. Spike was left with no illusions over their ability to read his mind.

Bloody hell. What's with the mind power bit? Everyone wake up all clued in to my bleedin' brain waves this mornin'?

At the thought, his mind flashed back to Willow and her call to send him up the tower that Glory's people built for the sacrifice. His memories led him directly to his failure to stop Doc and the broken body of the Slayer. All mockery and attempts at sardonic humor fled.

He didn't know who these two were, and quite frankly he couldn't care less, but they were probably the reason he was here. And the gold and green female didn't look terribly impressed with his thoughts at all. She was far more serious in her demeanor and expression than the gold and green male.

Spike did notice the definite familial resemblance between the two that transcended the body color and clothing duplication. Length of hair and height were the only characteristics that differentiated them. Brother and sister he would guess, and the female, who was still glaring down her aquiline nose at him, nodded her head once as if in reply.

"We are not creatures," was the woman's immediate and scornful reply. "We are entities. Oracles, to be precise. So mind your thoughts, vampire."

Spike started slightly in surprise at the woman's voice. He hadn't expected it to be quite so...melodious, given her austere countenance. It was also a bit of a shock to his ears, as only a sudden sound in a vacuum of silence could be. In his defense, he recovered quickly.

"Oracles. Right then. Well, if you don't mind, I'll be with you in a minute. I have to kill the bastard that put all these lovely little holes in my body, not to mention my favorite jacket."

Spike turned his back on the wonder twins and moved to accost the little blue demon. He was actually surprised that the bugger had hung around, but he was still there, a few feet away, and staring at the Oracles with rapt fascination.

Easer than stealing smokes from a cripple, Spike thought. He thought it on purpose, knowing the two standing on their holier-than-thou dais were listening. It was a mistake.

Just after he took his first step, he felt the full force of what could only be described as a mental slap smack into the side of his head and send him sprawling. He lay on the unforgiving ground and stared at the ceiling for a second before shaking his head to clear it of the remnants of the attack. Spike lifted his head and stared wide-eyed at the pair.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" He cried. "You've seen what that violet blob did to me. Nothin' wrong with a little payback."

As he pulled himself back to his feet he noticed the blue demon hadn't even given him the courtesy to appear afraid. In fact, it didn't appear to have noticed Spike's approach and threats at all. It was still staring at the Oracles, oblivious to its surroundings.

Oddly, that made Spike feel a little guilty for trying to kill it. He shrugged the feeling off, chocking it up to residual softness from hanging around the Slayer and her Scooby troupe for too long. Then he regretted the knee-jerk blame that he placed.

What a mess. He was mixed up, emotionally torn, mentally exhausted, physically damaged, and he couldn't even work out his own logic anymore. It had been a really bad day. Spike gave up. He put away all his monsterish impulses and turned to face the Oracles like the man he had vainly hoped the Slayer would see him as.

The pair saw his emotional turmoil, saw the war he waged with himself, and heard the things that were running through his mind in a tumultuous bundle. The brother turned to his sister and smiled slightly.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I will, brother.” She turned back to Spike in time to see the speculative gaze cross his face. He held his tongue, though, a point in his favor, and she decided it was time to tell him why he was here. “This should be interesting.”

She felt the brother’s soft mind chuckle as she started to speak.

"First, vampire, let us address the creature next to you. It did not inflict the wounds to your body. Nor is it responsible for your newly vented clothing. It is incapable of doing that kind of damage."

The sister heard the mental rumblings of disbelief. She heard Spike make a less than flattering comment about her parentage, but given the circumstances and given what he was, she chose to ignore it.

"The creature that did that to you was the Dialetylth. The creature next to you is a Borymous. Neither one are demons, both are from another dimension. The Borymous is a shape shifter, of sorts, and he is one of our many species of helpers. When he changes form he adopts the characteristics of the creature he becomes. The Dialetylth is familiar to his home dimension, and quite a nasty sort. I'm sure that was what was responsible for your injuries, not the Borymous."

Spike didn't quite catch the logic there and he said so.

"Wait a sec, luv. Let me get this straight. The Borymous is a shape shifter, turned into the Dialetyth, who did this to me. But I'm not supposed to hold one accountable for the actions of the other? How do you figure?"

The sister sighed. “So close, and yet...”

The brother did more than chuckle, he laughed outright in her mind.

She nodded in acquiescence.

"Let me make this easy on you, vampire," said the brother.

Spike's head swiveled in confusion to follow the strange cadence of speech from one to the other.

"Borymous have adapted. They are docile creatures that occasionally take on the nature of other, not so docile creatures for our sakes. As a result, they have certain properties that allow them to make up for any possible damage they may cause when they are using another form. Let him touch you."

Spike's jaw dropped in shock. "Let him touch me? Are you completely daft? There's no bloody way-"

There was no mistake this time. That thunderous command exactly matched the first he heard, and this time he knew it wasn’t a spoken command. Of their own volition, his hands came up to his head, probably to keep it from exploding from the force of the mental barrage of words.

"Okay! I get it! Let him touch me, right. Get on with it then." Spike wasn't happy, but he didn't want to risk another one of those vibrating furies of sound in his head. They hurt worse than the chip at full zap.

Soon it was done and Spike was once again completely flummoxed. The Borymous had not only healed his wounds with a touch, but his clothes were back in one piece, the blood was gone as if he hadn't spilled a drop, and even the bones he broke in the fall were repaired. To top it all off, he was clean and feeling well rested. The only pain left was the emotional, but Spike doubted any creature could heal that wound.

I have got to get me one of those, he thought, in reference to the blue creature.

He wasn't serious, and he flashed a slightly sheepish look at the Oracles, desperately hoping they wouldn't mind-slap him again, before muttering a quick, "Thanks," to the Borymous, who bowed deeply to him and promptly disappeared.

"Well then," he said, properly humbled, "I'm assuming you are the ones that brought me here. So, umm, why?"

The brother and sister exchanged glances and probably thoughts too, Spike guessed, before turning back to him.

"Do you know what Oracles are?" the sister asked.

"Haven't a clue," said Spike, "but I would rather this not take long. I've got responsibilities that require my attention."

"To The Key," the brother added, nodding. "Yes, we know. But it is important that you listen without interrupting."

Spike raised an eyebrow but remained quiet, even corralling his wayward thoughts and increasing panic at being away from Dawn for so long.

"The Oracles are seers and guides to the warriors that fight for the Powers That Be," explained the sister. "We provide assistance, when the Powers deem it necessary and the requesting warrior is worthy. Now, you are not a warrior for our side, vampire, yet you ally yourself quite strongly with one that is. We do not understand this, yet we do not need to. It is as we see it. Because of your unique situation we are prepared to offer you a solution to your problem. We are prepared to grant you your deepest desire. Tell us, Spike, what is it you most wish for?"

Of all the things that he could possibly conceive, this wouldn't have even been close to the list, let alone on it. If he understood correctly, these creatures - entities - were giving him a gift for helping the Slayer. And the gift was his deepest desire.

Never in one hundred and twenty-one years had Spike ever been more suspicious of anyone with the same intensity that he was suspicious of these beings. No one, not the 'Powers', certainly not these 'Oracles' gave a damn about him. That begs the question - what are they really after?

Spike knew there was only one way to find out.

The answer was simple. What is the one thing he most wished for? It's funny, six months ago the thing that he wanted most in the world was to have that government chip taken out of his brain. Six weeks ago it was for Buffy to love him as he loved her. The chip wasn't even in the top three - funny how things change. After last night, there was only one thing on the list. Hell, that one thing was the list.

Spike wanted Buffy alive. She could hate him, stake him, spit on him; it didn't matter. Spike just wanted Buffy to not be dead.

The sister had been reading Spike's mind. So had the brother, actually, but it was the sister that answered the unspoken desire. The desire that the Oracles knew was the only answer the vampire would ever give them.

"Your wish can be granted," she told him.

Spike sincerely despised having those beings in his head, poking around his thoughts. And he didn't like the way the sister had worded her response, either. A vampire didn't live much longer than twenty years if he wasn't cautious by nature, and Spike was very, very cautious. He had the strange feeling that he was being manipulated, but going in with that feeling should keep him from getting royally shagged.

He raised his head stared at them seriously. "Alright. I'll bite. What do you want me to do?"

"That's quite simple, actually," said the sister.

"We will set time back," the brother continued the thought.

"And you will save the Slayer." The Oracles finished together.

Spike looked at them in stunned disbelief, not only at their ability to finish each other's thoughts, but at what they were suggesting. Hope started to blossom in his chest. If he could go back, do things differently, everything would change.

"Well, alright,” he said, clapping his hands together once in excitement. “Now you're talkin'. How 'bout you set the dial back a bit? Back to when we were all in the RV, before Giles got shishkebobbed. If the Watcher doesn't get hurt, Doctor Boy doesn’t get called. And what with Ben being Glory and all, the royal she-bitch won't get her mitts on Nibblet before her time runs out. No ritual, no Buffy fatal plunge. Bloody brilliant."

He rambled on a while longer before he noticed the Oracles weren't nearly as impressed with his suggestions as he had hoped. Suddenly, things around the campfire seemed a lot less friendly.

The sister was the one that actually said the words Spike was afraid one of them was going to say.

"That is not a possibility. The Key must be used to open the dimensional walls. Balance must be maintained. We will turn back the hands of time to your ascent up the tower. You will wait until the demon uses The Key to open the door, then you will allow The Key to sacrifice itself to bring the walls back up. This is how it will be."

Spike was a rather frenetic vampire by nature, always moving, always doing something - until recently generally up to no good. He got itchy when things moved too slowly or he couldn't release some of his restless energy. He was rarely calm, even less was he ever still. As the sister spoke, however, and the meaning behind her words sunk in, both a strange calm and a death-like stillness descended upon Spike's body. He listened to the sister and felt a kind of peace that he had never experienced before - or at least not since he was a human child, perhaps. With that peace came absolute clarity of thought. An understanding, finally, of what the Oracles were really after and why he had been chosen.

In the few minutes that the Oracles instructed Spike on what he was to do, everything about Spike shifted slightly, became more in line, more in tune, more right. For a vampire, it was almost a kind of Nirvana. For Spike, he knew that nothing would ever be the same again. It was a unique feeling.

He waited calmly, patiently even, for the female Oracle to finish gracing the lowly vampire with her 'gift' of the Slayer's life. And when finished, in the moments of silence following the wonderful bounty they had bestowed on the soulless villain, Spike serenely smiled.

In a quiet and even tone, he looked at them both and said, "Go bugger yourselves."

"Wh-what did you say?" the Oracles stuttered simultaneously, utter disbelief obvious on their faces.

Oh, I think you heard me the first time, he thought, keeping the smile firmly planted on his lips. But what the hell, I'll repeat myself just because I had so much fun the first go 'round. Go. Bugger. Yourselves.

"B-But," they muttered, so alike even their stammering replies came out in one blended voice. "w-we d-don't understand. T-This is what y-you want most. W-we are giving you your deepest d-desire."

Feeling in control for the first time since, well since before he'd even heard the name 'Glory' actually, Spike grinned another dashingly attractive grin at the blithering pair and started to pace slowly back and forth along the bottom of the stairway with feline grace.

"Are you now? Hmmm. Let's examine exactly what you're offerin', shall we? You want me to go back, allow the walls separatin’ the dimensions to fall, then sit idly by as ‘The Key’ - who happens to have a name, by the way, lets use it - so, sit idly by as Dawn leaps to her death so that the Slayer, who also has a name – Buffy - can survive to continue to fight in your little war of good against evil. How'm I doin' so far? Dead on balls, right?"

Judging by the Oracles’ amazingly accurate impressions of landed fish, he decided to take that as a yes and continue.

"Okay, then, on we go. Now, I'm guessin’ that you two 'seerers' and 'guides' looked into your great big crystal balls," Spike caught the brother's glance down at the small pool of water at his feet and put two and two together. "Or should I say...cement pond of water, and watched the little battle that we staged for your amusement yesterday. Except I'm guessin’ that things didn't exactly go as you planned. Buffy wasn't supposed to die, was she? She was supposed to do what any other Slayer would have done and allowed Dawn to sacrifice herself for the greater good. It is, after all, what she did with Angel when he opened the door to hell with Acathla. She sent soul-boy straight to the devil like a good little Slayer should. Why wouldn't she do the same again? Boy, for a couple of all-knowing entities, you're really quite stupid, you know that?"

Spike was loving this. And he was hating this. It was quite possibly the single most bittersweet moment in his life, for he could torment these creatures, fail to give them the satisfaction they desire, refuse to play their games, but in the end, Buffy was no less dead. But he couldn't stop yet.

"So, Buffy refuses to play by your rules - which, by the way, was because she was more than just a bloody Slayer. That's where you lost. That's where I lost, too, back when I was tryin’ to do her in myself. She was much more than just a Slayer. She was a daughter, she was a sister, she was a friend. She was everythin’. Buffy had the one thing that you and your grand destinies could never strip from her, no matter how hard you tried. She had ties to the world. She had an understandin’ of sacrifice. And you want me to take that away from her. That's why you tapped me, right? I'm a vampire in love with the Slayer. A soulless monster with an obsession who would do anythin’ to get the object of that obsession back again, even toss aside the one person the Slayer loved more than life itself. I know. I get that a lot. People just don't get it."

As Spike's diatribe continued, he felt the calm receding, only to be replaced by the crushing weight of loss and disillusionment. All of the pain and fear he had seen on Dawn's face before the tear in space and time closed on him and the Dialetylth had been for nothing. It started to piss him off.

"It wasn't an obsession!" he shouted. "I loved her! I love her. I respected her courage and I stand behind her decisions. She wanted Dawn to live, and I will do everythin’ in my power as soon as you let me the bloody hell out of here to make sure that she lives as long and as happy a life as possible. I will always love Buffy. I will ache for her until the end of my days. But I will not betray her. And you know what? It's not just that losin' Dawn would destroy her, losin' Dawn would destroy me, too. I love her almost as much as I loved Buffy. And I didn't realize it until today. Find another fool, people. I'm not playin'. Send me back. Dawn needs me. Buffy needs me. I'm not helpin' you do a soddin' thing."

To say the room was silent after Spike finally wound down was a gross understatement. No one breathed, no one spoke, no one moved. The Oracles had been set on their ears, severely reprimanded by the master of verbal put-downs. They stared at each other with horror and despair, for they had both seen the effects the Slayer's death had on eternity. But they also knew that the vampire before them would do nothing to aide in their goal to set things right. They had made a mistake, another mistake, and grossly underestimated the vampire as they had underestimated the Slayer. Was all lost?

"Hello?" Spike called to the two thunderstruck entities above him. "I'm ready to go home now! No sense hangin' ‘round here anymore."

The sister reached out her mind to her brother, apologizing for her error and receiving a wordless comfort in response. As soon as she felt his caring mental caress she had a thought. Not more than a half a heartbeat later he had the same thought seize him and they gazed at each other with trepidation, afraid to say the words out loud. In unison they spoke to each other's mind.

They turned as one to the furious vampire below them and slowly descended the steps to where he stood. Spike watched with suspicion as they approached. When they were directly in front of him they smiled slightly, mirror images of each other. The brother reached out a hand and laid it on Spike's right shoulder, the sister did the same on Spike's left.

As one they spoke to him, their new warrior. "There is another way."

Spike didn't know if he liked the sound of that or not.

After Spike’s mysterious disappearance, the Scooby Gang had little choice but to head to the hospital. Xander had been the only one among them lucky enough to escape last night’s tragedy without injury, so he carried the unconscious Dawn out of the construction area. A weak but standing upright Anya had taken one look at the last surviving Summers girl - who had passed out next to the spot that Spike had disappeared from - and decided she wasn’t injured enough to need carrying. An occasional arm to lean on was all that was necessary and she could use Tara and Willow for that.

After being checked out in the emergency room, the doctors told Anya she had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, not to mention severe contusions on her upper body thanks to the bricks and other various asundry construction materials that had fallen on her. Surprisingly, the abnormally verbose ex-demon had little to say to the news, just a small “Oh,” before demanding information from the doctors on Dawn’s condition.

Xander had been in the room with her when she got the news and was both amazed and proud at the uncharacteristic selflessness of the woman he wanted as his wife.

Willow and Tara were both suffering general, all-over body bruises, but Willow had the added bonus of an irregular heartbeat that the doctors were unable to determine a cause for. She didn’t think it would be in her best interest to go into the possibilities of a ‘working big magicks’ cause.

Tara was relatively good, all things considered, besides the bruises she had only a laceration on the back of her head that required a couple of stitches and a re-fracturing of one of the bones in her crushed hand. The longer she had the use of all her mental functions, the easier it was to cope with what Glory did to her.

Giles was the most stubborn of the group, he refused treatment when he first got to the hospital, demanding instead to deal with all of the matters of Buffy’s death immediately, then focusing on Dawn to the exclusion of all else.

Perhaps it was guilt, guilt for suggesting that Buffy had no choice but to execute her sister if the dimensional walls fell, guilt for reminding Buffy that Dawn wasn’t really her sister to begin with, guilt for the knowledge that had it been left in his hands, the outcome of last night’s battle would have been vastly different. Yes, maybe guilt and definitely loss. But he knew that was why he was the Watcher and Buffy was the Slayer. And he was so proud of her. She never failed in her convictions.

As he had explained to Ben before...well, before he died, Buffy was a true hero.

After the arduous task of Buffy’s paperwork had been completed, a surreal and heartbreaking experience, Giles stayed by Dawn’s side with her cold, clammy hand in his until she woke. Only her insistence that he be checked out immediately once she regained consciousness was enough to pull him from her side. His spear wound had reopened and was bleeding again. A couple of staples, a pain pill, and he was back at Dawn’s side as if he’d never left.

Dawn appreciated it, too. She really did. But she was locked down in pain and couldn’t get her mind to go past losing Buffy. Or losing Spike.

As it turned out, she hadn’t collapsed just out of grief and fear. She had lost a lot of blood from the slices on her stomach before any of the Scoobies noticed she was bleeding. The dark, voluminous dress had hidden the knife wounds from everyone’s view. It wasn’t until Xander reached down to pick up her limp body that he noticed the wet marks and cuts in her clothing. After that, getting to the hospital had been a burning necessity. Each and every one of them was determined not to lose anyone else.

Physically they were all recovering, it was the emotional that was the real problem. They were all in a kind of dazed state. Reality hadn’t quite set in yet.

The idea that Buffy wasn’t going to pop into the magic shop with Dawn in tow to work out a little before class ever again, or that she would no longer be with them when they all went to the Bronze for some R & R, or that she wouldn’t worry too much, or take too much on her shoulders, or protect them, or fight for them, or fight beside them any more - none of that had really registered with any of them yet, except Dawn. And Dawn desperately wished she could be numb too.

She lay in her hospital bed, staring at the ceiling tiles and grieving for her sister in silence. When the pain of that tragic loss became too much to bear she turned her thoughts to the vanished Spike and grieved a different loss. Different, but no less painful for the difference.

Wherever he had been taken, she sincerely wished he could hold on until the group could mount a rescue attempt. The one thing she was sure of was that they would mount a rescue attempt. Even if she had to force every single one of the gang to do it.

She hadn’t told anyone, not even Buffy, but she loved Spike. Not in that teen crush kind of way like Buffy thought, but in the big brother that’s so cool I want to be just like him (except for the being a vampire) kind of way. They would get him back. She needed him. They needed each other.

“Please don’t give up, Spike,” she whispered softly, too softly to be heard by the hovering Giles. “We’re coming.”

~*~*~*~*~*~ <![endif]>

In another dimension, Spike stared hard at the two Oracles clutching his shoulders. His brow lowered in a speculative frown and he looked back and forth between the two of them.

They had said there was another way to get Buffy back but had fallen silent quickly thereafter, an identical faraway look on their faces. Basically, the lights were on but no one was home. It made Spike distinctly uncomfortable, especially as they hadn’t deigned to release him before their joint mental siesta. He squirmed.

After a couple of minutes dragged out into more like ten, Spike could no longer contain his irritation. “Hel-lo!” he said loudly, waving a hand in front of each of the sibling’s faces. “Kinda waitin’ to see what’s behind door number two, here!”

Realizing that he wasn’t going to get a response, the fed up vampire shoved the Oracles’ arms off of him - none too gently, either - and took several steps back. It didn’t take a genius to see they were communicating with someone, or something, but patience had never been one of Spike’s strong suits and he was already feeling rather wired from the need to get back to Dawn.

He leaned back against a pillar and reached into his coat pocket for his ever-present pack of smokes. Lighting up in the barren room seemed wrong somehow, but then again, that’s what he liked about it. He took a deep drag and cocked his head to stare through the haze of smoke at the odd pair across from him.

It wasn’t until he was midway through his third cigarette that the Oracles came back from wherever they had been. Spike had gotten bored in the interim and was walking around the room - searching for an exit, really - and hadn’t noticed the Oracles mental return.

The mental demand was such a surprise that Spike jumped, dropped the cigarette, and spun to face the Oracles all in one quick move. His game face emerged, courtesy of a surge of startled adrenaline. The golden eyes of the demon glared in hostility at the two entities and he growled at the sister.

“Christ, woman, give a bloke some warnin’ next time, why dontcha?!”

The sister stepped forward, not even slightly cowed by the appearance of the vampire features. “I most certainly will not! What, exactly, did you think you were doing?”

Spike simmered, but kept a hold on his temper. Whether he liked it or not, he was at the mercy of these two poofs. He shook his game face off and shrugged. “Gettin’ bloody well bored, that’s what.”

Sister and brother looked at each other. The seriousness in their expressions drew Spike’s attention away from his irritation and he waited to hear what was to come.

“I doubt that boredom will be an issue much longer,” said the sister.

The brother turned back to Spike. “The other way we referred to has been approved by the Powers.”

Spike waited to hear what he needed to do, a little anxious at the grave vibes being given off by the multi-colored pair. And he waited. And then, just because it seemed like a good idea - and because they didn’t seem all too willing to jump in with the explanations - he waited some more.

“I am not convinced the vampire will be able to do this,” the brother mind-spoke to his sister while Spike stared at them, growing more and more impatient.

“Neither am I,” came the mental response, “but it is what we must offer. The Powers have decided to allow this. It is not our job to question their reasoning.”

“Yes,” she thought, and there was a sad sound in her mind’s voice when she added, “and somehow I think willingness may be a problem.”

“You two wanna quit that mental mumbo jumbo and tell me what the other way is? ‘Cuz I gotta tell you, rude is not the way to get me to cooperate.” Spike was finished with being patient, finished with the feeling of being stretched out over hot coals while he waited for possible salvation from the hell that Buffy’s death put him in.

The Oracles took just enough time for a gentle, supportive mental caress to pass between them and they started to explain.

The sister took the initiative and spoke first. “You have been granted access to the realm that the Slayer now resides in.”

“Once there,” said the brother, “you will have to find her.”

“Once you find her,” the sister continued, “you will have to convince her to go back.”

“If and when she agrees to go back,” the brother spoke again, “she will come here.”

“We will return her to her body moments after her fall,” said the sister.

“And the Powers will allow life to be returned to her.” They said in unison.

From what Spike could tell so far, he was liking this plan a lot better than the previous one but he wanted to make sure of one thing.

“So, if I get her to come back, Buffy lives AND Dawn lives, right? ‘Cuz I’m not doin’ it if Dawn doesn’t make it.”

The Oracles actually smiled for the first time since coming back from their conference with the Powers.

“That is so,” assured the sister.

“Time will be returned to just after the Slayer’s sacrifice,” the brother told him.

“Both will be alive.” Again, they finished as one.

Nothing else was important to Spike, that’s all he needed to hear. “I’ll do it.”

Once his mind was made up, the anxiety and anguish he was feeling vanished. As soon as those feelings were gone, though, curiosity got the better of him. “You said Buffy’s in a different ‘realm’? What’s that all about? What realm is she in?”

The Oracles’ relief at the vampire’s quick decision to help was short-lived. They were bound by their duty to tell him everything, but they knew that once he heard the whole of it he might not be as willing. Glancing quickly at each other and sighing mentally as one, the brother answered Spike.

“The realm the Slayer is in has no name.”

“But it has been called many things throughout time,” added the sister.

“Many voices call out to it in many tongues,” the brother said.

“And many souls have traveled the span of millennia to reach it,” said the sister.

“It is everything and nothing. It is everywhere and nowhere.” As one their voices blended together. “An infinite multitude of words for the same space. It is has been known as Garden of the Hesperides, Valhalla, Walhall, Alfardaws, Assama, Falak al aflak, Elysium, Elysian fields, Arcadia, T’ien, Olympus, Zion, Utopia, Abode of the Blessed, Celestial Bliss, Paradise...”

Spike listened in growing horror, knowing what was coming and desperately wishing he could stop the flow of words from their mouths. If they didn’t say it, it couldn’t be real. If they stopped now it wasn’t true. He would still be all right if they just...stopped. But they didn’t stop. And the tone in their blended voices grew deeper, penetrating his body and mind until he didn’t know from which direction he was being assailed. His stomach clenched, his muscles trembled in tightening agony, and his jaw hurt from the pressure he was inflicting on it with clenched teeth. Still the words came.

“...and the one you are probably most familiar with, Spike, the one term that is known world wide in your dimension is...Heaven.”

They said it. They actually said it. And nothing would ever be the same for Spike again. Wide-eyed and slack jawed he stood for a long minute and just...stared. Not even at them, really, just stared. Finally making the cramped muscles of his legs work, he took a jerky step, followed by another and another until he was walking woodenly to the black steps that led up to the domed arch. The Oracles, who had been standing in front of him, moved out of his way. No one spoke; the siblings knew that enough had already been said. Spike would need time to digest what he’d heard.

Spike, not privy to their thoughts, just happened to share them. He knew he needed time to work through what had just been dropped on him with all the subtlety of a napalm blast. Just a little time, like maybe a decade or two. He sunk down on the steps and sat, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. His mind was a tempest-tossed sea of garbled thoughts and issues. For the first time since realizing the wonder twins could read his thoughts, he didn’t care in the least if they did. Maybe they’d help him figure out what he was thinking. Suddenly, Spike felt very, very alone. Hidden behind his hands, his eyes squeezed tightly shut to block out the additional sensory input. He needed to think.

Heaven. They want me to go to soddin’ heaven. That’s a bloody first, lemme tell ya. Hell...yeah, I get that a lot. But ‘Go to heaven’? Definitely a new one on Spike. The Powers have granted a vampire access to heaven. Guess it’s clear they’re not playin’ with a full deck. Can’t touch a cross without gettin’ third degree burns? Holy water eats through you like acid? Can’t enter a church without a major case of the wigglies? Don’t worry, mate, we’re sendin’ you to heaven!! That’s rich, is what that is. Just. Bloody. Rich.

Spike’s thoughts started to border on hysterical but he was left alone to go there. The Oracles left him to it. They weren’t reading his mind. Knowing the only way that the vampire could survive in the other realm was on sheer determination and strength of will alone, it was vital that Spike find it within himself to foster those things. And it wouldn’t be right to eavesdrop while he did it, or didn’t do it as the case may be.

Glory winnin’, that would have been bad. Nibblet dying, that would have been bad. Watchin’ Buffy slip into a catatonic state and not being able to do anything but watch, that was bad. Realizin’ the people that you thought you hated, Buffy’s friends, those merry misfits, had at some point and through the shared traumas become...important to you, that was bad.

Spike’s thoughts started to slow as his spent emotions calmed. He felt wetness on his hands and cheeks and realized he’d been crying, probably for a while. Was he crying for himself or Buffy? Maybe a little of both.

Emotions were tricky things, they clogged up the pathways used by logic and thought, preventing anything coherent from getting through. Spike’s not-so-little rant had at least served to free up some space for his mind. It was time, now, to get past the pain, for really, that’s what the histrionics were about. Lashing out at himself for Buffy’s death. Flogging himself with the bad times in the hopes of forgetting why he loved her so much - for then maybe he wouldn’t mourn her so deeply.

The problem with that was when you focus so hard on the bad, the good gets forgotten. And he’d come too far, changed too much, to ever want to let go of the good, no matter how much it hurt.

Like Buffy coming to him with her mum and Dawn in tow, telling him he was the only one strong enough to protect them. That had felt so good to hear. Or sitting on her back porch for hours with her next to him, being trusted enough to talk to, to be told what was wrong with Joyce. To be let in, even a little, on her life. To be able to offer a little comfort. That had really meant something.

The kiss, Lord, that kiss. So tender and gentle. He’d gladly go through a dozen more torturing sessions with Glory for the brush of those lips just once more. Spike didn’t know what he enjoyed more, though, the kiss, or Buffy’s words after. And after that, he had been let back in to the group. Felt needed, if not always wanted.

The best was being re-invited into her home. And being entrusted with her sister’s safety. That had meant everything to him. Her friends got a warning, if they tried to harm Dawn, Buffy would kill them, but Spike got, “I’m counting on you to protect her.” That’s about as big as you can get.

And the good times didn’t just revolve around Buffy, either. Willow caring about his pain when Tara inadvertently caused some sun sizzle in the RV, that was nice. He’d appreciated that. Or even Xander, lighting his cigarette when his own hands were too damaged to do it. Not asking, just doing it, just helping. Dawn, sweet little Nibblet, just about everything she did was kind. Joyce too, before...well before she died.

It was when he thought about Joyce’s death that Spike started to realize something, as bad as it ever was for him, it had always been worse for Buffy. The burdens of being the Slayer, her mum getting sick, finding out Dawn was some mystical key thing and not really her sister, losing Riley, losing her mum, fighting so hard not to lose Dawn. And yeah, having to deal with him, he hadn’t made it easy on her, either.

Now she was dead.

But that meant something else. She was at peace. Her struggles were over, her pain gone. The stress he had watched building to a crescendo, the agony over not being strong enough to stop Glory, the grief over all of her losses. All of that was gone. It must be, because that’s what heaven was. And that’s where she was.

That’s why the Oracles had said he would need to convince her to leave there. She had found eternal happiness. Who would ever want to leave that, especially after the hell she went through in her short life. How could he go to her and ask her to come back and pick up all the old pain? Is that fair? Is that right? Yes, he wanted her alive, to just not be dead, but she had made a tremendous sacrifice out of love and in doing so had earned the right to be where she was now, to be happy.

The question became, how much did he really love her? Did he love Buffy enough to let her go, or was he still too selfish? Was he man or monster? Did his wants and desires matter more to him than hers?

It’s never easy to let a loved one go when you know you could make them cling to life, humans went through that kind of dilemma all the time, it wasn’t just a soul/no soul line in the sand, either. Fully soul-equipped people faced the same exact questions, and not all of them chose wisely.

And then, Spike’s decision was made for him. He couldn’t do it. He loved Buffy too much to knowingly put her through the kind of hell he’d seen her go through this past year. Spike inhaled deeply - on purpose, of course, as he didn’t need to breathe - and ran tired hands over his face and through his hair. With all of the dignity he could muster, he rose to his feet, straightened out his duster, and turned to the Oracles who were watching him. Waiting patiently.

“You’re goin’ to misunderstand my reasons,” he said in a low, calm voice. “And frankly, I’m okay with that. I know my reasons and it’s enough. I’m not goin’. I’m not doin’ that to her. I saw what she went through these past few months, few years if you want to put it rightly. She’s paid her dues. She’s fulfilled her obligation to you people. Leave her alone. Let me go home and mourn the lady in peace, let me take care of the only piece of her I’ve got left.”

The Oracles saw his sincerity, waltzed through his mind once again and read his pain, saw his sacrifice for what it was. It didn’t, however, change anything. They looked at each other, and Spike saw them nod in what appeared to be resignation. They walked up the stairway like the burden of eternal life was too much to bear.

Together, and without turning to look at him, they said, “Follow us.”

Spike thought they were letting him go, thought that it was over. They had conceded. He was wrong.

The brother and sister reached the top step and moved to stand on each side of the pool that was carved into the stone at their feet. They pointed down into the water’s reflection and looked at him. “Watch,” they said.

At first he didn’t see anything but the wavy reflections of the Oracles themselves, but then the top of the inky surface rippled slightly. He saw what looked to be Sunnydale, or what was once Sunnydale. It was now a dead and decaying city. Evil lurked in the shadows and darkness had claimed it as its own. Spike didn’t know what to say to such a bleak possibility.

“Not possibility,” the sister interrupted his thoughts, “fact. This is the town you live in exactly three years to the day from when Buffy died.”

“The pool before you is the called the Waters of Time and Space,” said the brother. “It allows us to track the progress of dimensional realities.”

“What you see there is what will happen if the Slayer does not return,” they told him.

The sister moved her hand and the image shifted, it was a wider view of most of the western United States. Large, angry, red splotches were everywhere, from the heartland states westward. Mixed between the red were circles of obsidian black. As he watched, more and more red splotches popped up, and more and larger circles of blackness.

“You are seeing time progress, five years, seven, ten, thirteen years,” said the sister, sorrow in her voice.

Spike saw the darkness expanding, watched as red popped up, flared briefly, and went black. Only very occasionally did it flare and go back to normal. “What’s this supposed to mean?”

“In simplest terms, it is the end of the world,” the brother said, matching the sadness in his sister’s tone.

“Wait a bloody second. Buffy died. A new Slayer is called, that’s how it works. Where’s the Chosen One through all this?”

Spike didn’t like what he was seeing, but he still wasn’t sure why this should be Buffy’s responsibility. She had already ‘been there, done that’ with the end of the world stuff - several times.

The Oracles, who looked to be drawing closer and closer to tears as the world died, raised watery eyes to look at him.

“There are two problems there,” said the sister.

“First of all,” the brother sighed, “Buffy was not your typical Slayer, as you have mentioned you know.”

“Secondly,” the sister kept turning pages and each one was worse than the last, the bad guys were gaining a lot of ground fast, “she has already died once. Another Slayer was called then.”

A quick tilt of the brother’s head and his eyes narrowed slightly. “And if I remember correctly, your girlfriend killed that one.”

Spike winced at the mention of Dru.

“And then the other was called. Faith, I believe, though definitely a misnomer. She was...less than satisfactory.” There was scorn and derision in the sister’s voice.

“Until she dies,” the brother smiled to his sister’s mind, neither one of them had liked Faith, “there will not be another Slayer called. And as she is currently in prison, that may be a while.”

“Balance will be upset,” the sister had continued to flip through time at the scenes reflecting there, “and in less than thirty years...”

The Oracles spoke as one and pointed to the scene below them, “this will be the result.”

Spike stared hard at what he saw; it disgusted him. Carnage of such a scale as to be indescribable, destruction of the world. Demons, true Hell demons roamed the earth, consuming anything and everything in its path. Light was gone, darkness reigned supreme. Life was extinguished. Nothing was left.

“Now you know...” said the sister.

“Why we need to get the Slayer back,” the brother finished.

“She is not just the Chosen One,” the sister spoke again.

As one, and with an additional mental push, they told Spike, “She is The Chosen One. The keeper of the balance. Our only hope. Your only hope.”

It was too much for Spike to take in. The viciousness he witnessed was unimaginable even for a creature that had fed on humans for over a hundred years. What he saw made his own evil ways seem pleasant by comparison. It numbed him. It hurt him. It forced a choice he didn’t want to make.

Spike no longer had any illusions about what Buffy had gone through when she sent Angel to hell after he had used Acathla. He had a complete understanding of what she felt when she threw herself off the tower and into the doorway between dimensions. He couldn’t let what he had seen come to pass. It was his turn to sacrifice.

The words that fell from Spike’s lips were somber and final. “I’ll do it.”

Once spoken, the Oracles wanted to make sure the words were not reneged once more.

“You say you will do it,” said the sister.

“But do you fully understand the price you pay if you fail?” the brother finished.

“And do you understand the price you pay if you succeed?” from the sister again.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered in frustration. “I get it. Bloody prices to be had all around. I said I’d do it. When do start?”

The siblings looked at each other. They were left standing in the unique position of uncharted territory. What the vampire was getting ready to do had never been done before, not just by a vampire, but by anyone. No one had even thought of trying this before. It left them feeling very nervous, another first for them.

“The realm you are going to will not accept you, Spike.” The brother tried to go into greater detail.

“It will resist your presence and defend itself against you,” added the sister.

“Violently defend itself,” clarified the brother.

Spike tossed his hands up in frustration at the cadence of their speech and their endless repetition.

“First off,” he practically snarled, “do you think you could stop with the bleedin’ back and forth talk? Making my bleedin’ neck hurt! From now on, if you start a sentence, bloody well finish it! Secondly, I heard you the first few times just fine, I’m not mentally challenged, ya know. I go to this...other realm. Being a vampire with no soul, the place doesn’t much like me so it will try to destroy me. I convince Buffy to leave the peace and serenity she’s found and deserves, she decides to go back to the fighting and war and death and - poof! - she’s back in her body after she jumped off the tower. Fight over; hero types win. Buffy lives. Dawn lives. Balance restored. Now, will you answer my soddin’ question and tell me when I start?”

Practically bursting with hyperactivity, Spike started to pace around the marble and stone room. The Oracles watched pensively.

“Spike,” she started slightly when he spun around in full vamp mode to stare at her. She hadn’t noticed the switch and it startled her slightly. Once under control, she continued. “If you survive the realm and make it to Buffy and convince her to leave, you...well, you will die, Spike. The Powers have only the power to grant you admittance; they have no control over the realm. And this has never been done before, with anyone. No one has ever left the realm after fully entering, some have dallied shortly on the outer fringes, only to return to their bodies, but none went fully inside. The realm will not let you go for getting Buffy out of there. And if you make it to her and you do not convince her, it will still destroy you for trying. It is your nature. To it you are an enemy.”

Spike blinked those golden eyes of his slowly twice, then pushed the demon back. He stared at the Oracles with something very close to hatred in his eyes. He did hate them, but not for sending him to Buffy. For needing Buffy to go back at all. He hated that it would all be on her shoulders again. And next time, he wouldn’t be there to help. Suddenly he was very glad Buffy had her sister and the Scoobies in her life.

“So, this is a one way ticket to paradise?” He said, cloaking himself in a casually sardonic attitude. He tilted his head and sent a pure sexually heated glance at the sister to fluster her. Judging by her expression it worked rather well. One corner of his mouth curved up slightly and he half sneered, half grinned at both of them. “Hmmm, now why am I suddenly so not surprised?”

For once, the Oracles had nothing to say.

“Right then,” said Spike, shrugging his shoulders a bit as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Let’s do this.”

With a wave of their hands, a doorway opened to Spike’s right with a flash of light and mist. Once the light dimmed and the mist cleared, Spike walked to the opening and peered in to the other side. What he saw made him frown. It was the single most barren wasteland he had ever seen. Craggy mountains in the distance blotted out the blood red sky, fissures in the dry, baked valley released steam and other noxious smelling chemicals into the air. There was no green, no life, nothing peaceful or tranquil at all.

Spike pulled his head back and shot a confused look at the Oracles. “I thought you said this was heaven, paradise.”

“It is, Spike,” the brother said with a look vaguely resembling sympathy, “but you are a vampire. You should know, there is no heaven, no paradise for vampires.”

That was a fact that was becoming abundantly clear to Spike. He took one more look into the hostile landscape in front of him and stepped in. The walls closed silently behind him.