It was a terrible idea. It was easily the worst idea she had had to date and could possibly own a post on the short list of all time bad ideas on the North American Continent and that included Richard Nixon stealing from the Social Security Fund to finance the carpet bombing of Cambodia. So it was a terrible idea and here’s why she was going to do it.
Maybe it was the dreams, the message in the dreams, maybe it was intuition...but mostly it was the feeling of having been...forgiven.
The way Spike had looked at her these past few weeks. The soft way he was around her...the way he touched her with his words, his eyes, his hands. She had felt forgiven...and that terrible feeling of something out of balance...of owing somebody something you could never pay back...was gone.
It was gone. They were square and because they were square, they could begin at square one. He had forgiven her.
He had forgiven her for not loving him as he loved her and in turn...in turn...she loved him for it. It...it was easy. Once under no pressure the spring running underground found it’s way up on it’s own no problem.
She loved him for loving her. It could be that simple sometimes. Someone got a got a good idea and...sooner or later...it caught on...like...velvet. The invention of velvet was a great idea...and can you imagine the hand of beloved touching beloved and mere cloth, some minor muslin, not good enough no, not nearly enough to the touch. Touching you is like touching love and so why not love to touch too?
His velvet gaze, the soft steady presence, an invitation to touch, but no pressure. Just there...
She loved him for loving her mind, her body, her soul, herself...and forgiving her for it at the same time.
With her love for him there was a mix of gratitude...sure...it was gratitude...but what was wrong with that? Not being grateful was just...well, plain rude.
And...it...it changed something. Admitting she loved him...it opened up new doors...new ideas.
She had had a dream last night, well, a mix of dreams really...and in one she had seen her self as passed on...and not like that time after Glory...it was later and she had regrets and joys too...but what lingered after she awoke--were the regrets and the promise to herself to be grateful when someone hands you a fortune and if what Spike offered her wasn’t Fort Knox knocking what was? It helped to wake her up a little bit. The feeling in that dream of brushing him aside, of treating the loss of him as something she could live easily around, as irrelevant, deliberately diminishing his importance to her until too much time goes by to rectify...was terrible...terrible...
She had dreamed of Spike laying himself on the cross again like he had that day in church and then turning into a Turok Han who looked at her with William eyes...
She had dreamed of kissing the Turok Han which burst it into daylight leaving Spike behind, Spike with his laughing eyes in a field of green grass...wearing a...purple shirt...of all things...
And her thinking...well...at least it’s a color...a color creeping up the spectrum from black and blue to hue and didn’t purple stand for royal?
And then she had awoken with the most terrible idea.
They could win...
But it was a terrible idea and no matter what ‘fancy party dress with a slit back to beguile the senses of a stone statue,’ spin she put on it...there was just no way to make this appealing to Spike.
But...they could do it. She had only the vaguest unformed idea about what would happen after...but trust was the key and love was the lock.
*
She padded down the basement steps softly in her bare feet. It was a hot night...and so she wore a loose cotton skirt and top so the air could circulate and swirl the fabric free...
The basement was dark but she knew it well...and made her way over to where he slept...with only the pitter and a pat of a cat.
She saw his brow draw up in consternation and he rolled his head to the side in his sleep as if to avoid looking at something.
“You’re dreaming, Spike.” She advised him softly.
He said something softly that sounded like: “The barien...”
“Hmm?”
His face twisted a bit.
And with that she absently stroked his hair and felt him calm down somewhat under her touch. And she thought suddenly: god he really loves, me, really, really, to respond like that with just a touch, a word…and when he’s asleep too...
“Be careful Buffy, they think the baby is...unclean...”
When she didn’t seem to be paying attention he got a little agitated...
“Shhh...it’s o.k. Spike...you’re dreaming...there is no baby...”
She stroked his hair gently and this seemed to rouse him, to bring him back from wherever he was, whatever he was...
He opened his eyes to look at her lazily and she stroked his cheek and then leaned down and lay against him, her back up next to his chest. She felt him relax into her on almost a sigh.
Buffy stared into the night
“Spike…” Buffy sighed.
“Buffy…” He murmured this against her hair, and then nuzzled her neck “My Buffy…” he softly sighed still half asleep.
She rolled around to face him. Stroking his face, kissing his cheek, his eye:
“My Spike…”
“Am I?” He asked so softly.
She nodded against him.
And, face against his chest she spoke.
“I love you Spike, you know that right?”
She felt his body stiffen, and a tremble run through him.
She felt his arms go around her, gently pulling her in even tighter as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.
She stroked his arm that was wrapped around her waist.
He dipped his head and inhaled her scent and felt like sobbing.
No quip, no sally, no volley, new game.
She turned her head and looked him in the eye and held him in hers.
“Something is changing...do you feel it?”
Spikes eyes were serious as he tried to keep up with her. But the answer to that one was easy....he nodded...but he was still far away to speak.
“I need more Spike...Who I am right now, who we are won’t be enough for what’s coming...we don’t have much time...it has to be tonight, it was to be now...I need to be stronger...and...and you make me stronger. Will you make me stronger?”
She looked at him, directly into him and then lay down on the single bed beneath him so she was on her back...He looked at her puzzled until she turned her head slightly...just enough to expose the long column of her neck to him...
Spike’s demon snapped to attention and almost leapt out with such sudden visceral intensity...he knew he had not mistaken her...proposal...Spike had to struggle to keep it back...finally he croaked out. It was small, but firm it was:
“No.”
She stroked his face, and then moved her hand up into the hair at his temples.
He gasped out.
“No...”
She stroked the side of his face.
“Buffy...I...please...I could never hurt you...”
“That’s why it can only be you.”
He stroked her hair and shook his head...
“No, lass...no lamb...you’re not thinking a’right...you’re sleep walking or somesuch.”
“Marry me.”
His body jerked. He felt the meaning behind her words...she was asking for the bond...she was asking for the vampire bind...
He kissed her on the side of the mouth and begged her softly: “Wake up lamb...shhh now...”
In answer, she stroked his face and moved him closer to her...and looked him straight in the eye, straight into his soul.
“Believe in me Spike...we might be able to win...and no one needs to die...except...well, for...you know...a little minny one...look at me...it’s me...all these years...all this time...and...it’s you and me...can you believe it? And...and...”
Her voice drifted down as she ran out of words that could possibly fit into the space of what she wanted to say and she took his hand, instead and placed it over the top of her chest, over the center of her soul so he could see a fraction of what she saw.
Look.
He did. He saw the shape and size and scope of the thing she did. The holocaust coming soon to a city near you. He started to weep. There were no words.
She pressed her cheek up against his and then kissed the side of his mouth and felt something wet on her cheek and it could have been the blessing, a blessing shower, rainwater on a hot day to grow the things of the earth back to green...but it was Spike water and...well....wasn’t that the same thing?
She couldn’t say it would be o.k....because she didn’t know, but she could make him understand that this was her choice something she wanted to do...but he would need to want it too...
With her cheek up against his, she whisper kissed words into his ears until he bowed his head, dipped his head to breathe her in. No fear. He didn’t smell fear.
This is what she said:
“Marry me. I...I...still have the ring.” She whispered half sincere, half joke, all real.
He stroked her hair as if to hold her here...to keep the world from changing.
In answer she shifted her weight and lay flat on her back slightly beneath him and wound her legs around his as if the binding had already begun.
It was her calm steady gaze that did it...love flowing so deep and heady he needed to get closer, to be in it, to be in her.
Her hands stroked him softly, guided him, adjusting the angle of his body, until he lay over her and she needed to show him how it was to be done.
She stroked his back until he calmed and he rested his head on her breast to listen to her heart, she stroked his hair guiding, moving his face gently to kiss her mouth and nuzzle her cheek, her ear until he was moving on his own under the force of his own desire. He kissed her ear and then nipped at her lobe as hello and harbinger and ‘this comes with teeth and are you sure’?
Her fingers found his forehead and stroked his brow while grinding her body up just slightly, just enough, so he morphed, rippled beneath the fingers that had stroked him forward.
I love you, she thought in part wonder part amazement and he believed her.
Her fingers skim touched his demon face until they were cheek to cheek and he inhaled deeply once more and she turned her head to kiss the side of his...and he dipped his head down her cheek to nuzzle the long column of her throat.
His lips skimmed her skin and he was crying too, she felt more water...or were they her tears too? Grief was natural when there was death and death was change, change...change the world even...just one person at a time...
She knew a full two seconds before it happened. Two seconds, one for me, one for you and time enough to say ye ‘nay’ but no; no...we might be able to win...maybe...but only if we both jump...
*
And so he bit her. First she was too shocked, play bite, loving nip but no, the feeling of his fangs deep in her neck hooked into her jugular was a singular experience. He had been so gentle sliding his fangs in, she hadn’t felt it until he hugged her with his clamped jaws--like a cat toting a kitten, loving but firm, firm, irrevocable.
It was like reliving the history of the world...not in words, or dry dusty pages...but in colors, feelings and sound...all of him and the long history of the demon tree tangled now in human her story. Battles, love, war and a piece of you in me and who will get first crack at the condo timeshare?
--He began to suckle at her neck and her body, he needed more of her in him to soothe the demon, he needed to saturate his senses in her...the first complete peace he had known in his lifetime...and this is why he had chased after her...oh god, this is why he loved her and the small shards of her, small bits of her he had known were blown to past tense in the wake of this, the wonderwall of her haven.
She found herself stroking the back of his neck…encouraging him, as if he were her child, her lover, her world wide hunger and she was feeding him—her whole body yearned leaned toward him…and then, because he vampire kissed her with such love, she found her vaginal walls, growing taunt and lengthening...her emptiness nothing short of agony.
“Give me…give me…” she pleaded
And to this he seemed to lean in close, pushing her face up into his shoulder.
Her mouth at his neck.
Once she tasted his blood in her mouth, she needed more. It felt like something of herself coming back, getting her own blood back plus a kiss from him; it was she plus he and the whole world too. He/she was pulling him deep into her and she felt his blood seek and run searching through her body looking for a place to seed. He was impregnating her with his blood; he would be alive inside her now as she was already in him.
As Buffy neared unconsciousness she felt Spike come inside her and when had their bodies joined? The melding had been so complete; the lines of flesh were blurred into done gone. The shocking force of his orgasm ricocheted until her body began a tap dance that went round, round until it shook the very world down--she was dimly aware of Spike retracting his fangs in gasp of surprise. Was that sob? Was he crying? She tried to nuzzle in close to him but found she couldn’t move. She felt him licking her neck sealing the wound…but was he crying? He tried to pull away from her body but she held him close, arms clamped around him, to hold him tight. She still couldn’t move, save for that strength that went into holding him to her. Somehow it was very important for him to stay. God, please don’t leave me...
She thought she heard him talking to her gently from far away...something about letting him go...god, what had he done and they had to go hospital—but that just made her clamp harder…she heard him groan, but that was o.k. just as long as he didn’t leave.
She blanked and went into the black.
*
He was desperate. It was the complete desperation of absolutely not knowing what to do. He had known what she had asked of him, what he was doing...but then he hadn’t...it had been her intuition...not his...and it is one thing to do something together...because she had had a vision...to do as she asked...and quite another to live with it...alone
Oh god...what had he done?
Holy god, oh god...what had he done? Had he wanted her so much, wanted her to be with him all his life...that, that he had lost reason? Oh god, wasn’t this what The First had been tempting him to do for months...oh god, maybe he had been fooled...it was her, it was Buffy...but maybe it wasn’t Buffy talking. Maybe it had been an hallucination. Or had the First worked in reverse? Maybe it had tempted him to do the thing...so that he would be so afraid to do the thing--so he wouldn’t do it if she asked.
No. No it had been her. His own deep intuition told him that. It had been her who had asked for this thing.
Damn Buffy...damn her for making him love her so much that he believed in her like that...he had gone along...oh god...he would throttle her...he would...this was a terrible idea and did he really have to do everything Buffy wanted? And then he suddenly remembered his Mother, and a terrible sound broke from his throat.
What came back wouldn’t be Buffy...oh god...oh god...
She had lost her mind and he couldn’t say no to her and which was worse?
And now, now he was desperately trying to recall everything he had ever heard about Slayers or the legends of Slayers and hadn’t he heard it all? Searched out every legend. But grade A and first on the list was the implied suggestion that a Slayer couldn’t be turned; yeah...that’s right...that her purity and the light from heaven would dissipate any such attempt like so much brushing off of bothersome dust.
He focused inside himself, pulled himself together and then tried to pull himself from her--but then there was a trembling, a tiny twitch traveling round and round him and he felt her voice inside him begging him to stay; he felt her ask him to stay and ‘please don’t leave, don’t let me go through this...thing...alone.’
He had to stay...it...it...was a matter of life and...death...and here he dropped his head onto her neck and sobbed with no sound. Harsh gasping and horrible he began to pray, like the poor sods do with no recourse, or hope and so look upward--he prayed from the very beginning of his newly installed soul, like a newly born babe trying the oldest trick in the book.
He prayed to God. He prayed to God to help her. To be with her.
Dear God, you bloody blighter; you irrepressible omnipresent wank--here is you’re child here, here she is, the girl what you left all alone to clean the world and damn it if she doesn’t try--this here, is your child, your little girl and she’s blameless and pure and is ‘nowt of all this--she came to me with love in her heart. Please, please give love back to her--she’s innocent, she’s your little girl, don’t let her go, she’s your child don’t let that thing happen, let that thing in her--I won’t talk of deals, you know I have ‘nowt to give you and you already know I’m never going back to what I was and you already know I would only help her and not hurt her, please, you...you holy sod...look into her heart and see who she is--what our intentions were and please don’t leave your little girl, she loves, you she does--she doesn’t know it or say it...but, but, she does. I know because she tries so hard to help this bloody mess of a world you made. She does and...and I’ll try...”
And on and on he went not realizing he had slipped into the idiom of speaking for them both, using the words ‘her’ and me, but meaning, our and us...
And now just to cover his bases...he used street logic too.
“She is you here on earth isn’t she then? Well you’re not going to let some demon out through her...make you look like you lost control of the ball and all...”
But that argument sounded odd even to him, and he could feel her body starting to chill, to grow just a bit cool and...and...and...oh god...he...where was her heartbeat? He couldn’t hear her heartbeat.
“Oh God, oh God...if this is the end, if this is really it...then...then...if she goes cold...I’ll...I’ll do her. I’m not gonna let any part of her come back with a thing inside her, not gonna let her feel that...pain.”
And here he was surprised at this word. He had often described becoming a demon as being made strong through using anger as a source of power...but now he knew anger was ignited from...pain. That searing irrevocable feeling of being thrust far from heaven, so far from love, the pain was searing and the demon stoked that pain to anger, and lived off it to make up for the loss.
And Spike used that as an argument too.
“She gave and gave and even if you can’t...I’m not gonna let her feel that break with you...tisn’t right...I’ll do her God, I will...and you know I will and then meself...and then you’ll be less, two less here on earth and that won’t help you one bit, will it?”
Now he was talking like a lawyer and the mad gamble of an almost terrorist holding a gun to a Deity’s head--
“William...”
The voice was soft and kind and it was inside him like a loving light touch and then outside as well, from over there...
Joyce was sitting on a stack of boxes in light colored peach slacks a white tank top and a bandana around her head like she had just come into the basement to do some laundry.
She spoke again.
“Spike...you’re upsetting Buffy...she can’t allow this to happen when she feels how upset you are. She thinks something is wrong.”
“Well, Joyce...nice as it is to see you an’ all, if you aren’t you know that thing, The First--well...look at us--I think we should all bloody well be very upset!”
Joyce smiled at him warmly, her eyes glowing. She asked simply: “Did you mean it that evening in the Church, Spike?”
He stared at her.
“I’m a vampire, ‘Maybe Joyce’.”
“Did you mean it?” She asked quietly
“I’m a demon...”
“Do you want to be?” Her warm eyes held his and it was impossible to look away.
“My soul.”
She waited.
“Thought I heard it...you know, God...that I hear it tell me to go, go to...hell...”
“Pointing out your faults isn’t the same thing as telling to go to ‘you know where’.”
“Joyce we don’t have the time for bloody theological semantics--“
“--No we don’t. Did you mean it Spike? Do you want rest?”
Quiet. Simple.
The truth. The hot high point of his soul trying to burn it’s way out.
The answer.
“Yeah. I want to rest in peace.”
Joyce smiled.
“Glad to hear the old funny bone breaking, Spike--“
“Joyce...Mum...please...”
“If you want peace, then maybe your demon...is already the angel kind of demon.”
“That sounds like an exit line.”
“When she comes back--do what she tells you to--without question--“
Spike just stared at her.
“Well alright that would be impossible. But you have to tell her its o.k., she trusts your judgment, she won’t let it happen unless you’re on her side. She turned down the offer of more power from the three shaman; can’t blame her really...I’m actually kind proud of her for that--I always, always told her never, never to talk to strangers, let alone take--“
“Joyce.”
“Spike. Sometimes it’s better to ‘choose the devil you know’”
“What?”
“Sorry William...”
“No, no...don’t say it--“
“It’s called faith.” And with that Joyce dissipated and just as she was gone he thought he heard.
“By the way, love the soul--a good look for you, you could stand to wear some lighter colors however...maybe...white? It’s what all the angels are wearing these days”
A light chuckle and then she was gone.
It was The First.
He told himself it was The First playing for time, all the while looking for an axe to chop off his beloveds head. Couldn’t twist it off...couldn’t bear it...
It was Joyce.
He told himself, it was Joyce, had to be, who else could make him feel like that--like a boy again, it had to be Joyce and he should wait--
No...it was The First...how many times had The First done the bait and switch when he was held captive?
No...it was Joyce.
Oh God...you fucker...you fucker...can’t just be clear? No that would be just too bleedin’ EASY. No...no...you have...
And then he felt that feeling that warm feeling of someone taking his hand.
And he felt Joyce’s words again.
You’re upsetting Buffy...
Faith.
He looked at his beloved...her face was still, in repose and he leaned into her, wrapping the blanket up around her half naked body.
“Oh love” he murmured; and looked into her face--tried to feel into her spirit...the way they could sense each other, the way they were with each other whenever within twenty feet. But it was no good--whatever, wherever she was, there was a wall there that he could only hope to talk over.
Faith.
“Oh luv, I’m so sorry if I’m wrong, but your Mum is the one person in all the world I would never be able to say no to. And that includes yourself. I love you Buffy, I want you to be whatever it is you want to be. I won’t take that decision from you. However you come back...”
And here he starting crying, couldn’t help it. Just small tears, ‘weepy and wailed’ on indeed, oh yeah, she had his number.
“However you come back...I promise to protect you...to help you...you won’t be alone.”
He saw no change in her surface expression, nor movement, nor alteration in her cool temperature...and if her heart was beating it was very faint indeed.
He stretched out on his side making sure the bulk of his weight was off her slight form. He wrapped the blanket up tight around her, pulled her close and waited.
*
It was time now. Just time and what time does.
He listened to the sounds of the house, surreal now, in their common everyday quaintness.
He heard the clock of course...the small one on the shelf over there by the garden things.
Some coughing upstairs...and a whimper. Bad dream...probably...
There were all the sounds he heard every night, every one, except for the sound of her footfall when she did her nightly rounds...because here she was; already fallen.
He would look at her...stroke her hair, kiss her cheek but he said nothing.
If he dozed he was not aware of it...and then he heard the birds, the morning birds outside, just outside the basement window.
It sounded...so ordinary.
When he looked back down she was looking up at him.
Buffy’s eyes were open and staring into his.
He couldn’t fathom her expression.
“Buffy, luv...”
He couldn’t talk about sorry, he waited...
He saw her lips move and he leaned in to listen, he thought he heard...
“Outside...”
He looked at her. She stared back into his eyes beseeching him. Her face and body immobile only her eyes...
“Out--“
She didn’t need to ask twice. He pulled off her with ease now, her arms falling slack to her sides, setting him free. But the disconnect of their bodies felt...sad...lonely...he had wanted to pull away and now it hurt terribly to be apart from her.
A small whimper almost broke from her.
“Sun...”
He thought he heard.
He wrapped her up in the blanket and picked her up to carry her out for the sunrise.
Fine.
A fine day to die.
He was done. It was only, do, do as she asked.
He carried her up the steps and up through the kitchen and out the back door without a pause or break, down off the porch and out to the middle of the grass in the backyard.
Buffy loved the grass. She loved to take off her shoes and run barefoot. Once, almost two years ago now--she had told him when she was a child she would never wear shoes in the summer--never.
Buffy Summers barefoot in the summer grass.
He loved her, he never, never would have hurt her and she knew it. No need for apology...sometimes the world worked and flipped you in a direction and it was the end or the beginning and god in heaven, who could ever tell the difference when it was happening?
“See...sun...”
He sat down on the grass with her, so he could hold her up to see the sun rise. It was soon, minutes away, really.
He held her in his lap while they waited, he kissed the side of her head and...and he...thanked heaven for having known her...
It was as if at the last moment, Buffy became cognizant, aware of him, him about to face the sun with her and panicked, but then instead of motioning for him to go, her eyes got caught in his and he couldn’t move now even if he had wanted to.
If she chose dust, he was dust...that was all.
The sun came up.
*
Dawn woke in a panic. Disbelief at some dream, some terrible premonition and something that said look about sharp this morning.
She felt a gag rising from her bowels and ran to the bathroom...and just...just made it.
Xander was up early and moving around, he came up the stairs when he heard the retching.
He paused at the bathroom door.
“Dawnster?”
She was at the bathroom sink rinsing out her mouth, and then brushing her teeth.
“Dawn. You sick?”
She nodded her head yes and squeaked--“You seen Buffy yet?’
“No, think she had a long night. Still asleep, bedroom door is closed.”
Buffy had insisted on keeping her bedroom to herself. She had needed that private space to collect and recollect herself and of course no one debated her on it. But everyone waited until she rose in the morning. No one dared go tapping. And usually she was the first to rise anyway--so waking a sleeping Buffy was never an issue.
“Something wrong Dawn?”
She paused...how much to tell him, but...yeah...there might be a problem...with her. With these dreams. Could The First get into your dreams and show you terrible stuff...Spike burning alive on the Hellmouth? Oh god...that was awful...
“Maybe...it’s me...could...could...Willow tell if I’m under a spell?”
“I...I think so...let’s get Buffy--“
“No, let her sleep...it can wait...I think...um...you seen...uh, Spike yet?”
“He’s never up this early, unless we need him...you, you talking to him again?”
“Well not right now.”
Her answer was a little short and Xander read it as teenage angsty stuff and wrote it off.
“Well come on down and I‘ll make you a cup of tea.”
*
It wasn’t until 9:20 a.m. or so when they all noticed Buffy was missing. It was Saturday and everyone had let her sleep in. The Potentials, with Dawn supervising, made that call. Also...maybe, maybe she wasn’t quite up to seeing her yet. She would have to tell her about these dreams...she was the key after all...and it might mean something.
Xander had gone off to work, even though it was a Saturday--it was overtime time, and his job was running past schedule...the company had lost a lot of workers recently...people just packing up and leaving their jobs without a word...people leaving town, but still, life went on and so he had gone to the site. Willow was at the library and it was 9:35 before Dawn realized that Spike was missing too.
Buffy & Spike both gone?
Now, a year ago--it would been easy to deduct--that maybe they left to go somewhere to...do something...but...now...even though everyone could feel the softness between the two--Buffy would never have left the girls unprotected. If she had to patrol she would have left Spike behind. And if the two of them had to leave--they would have made sure Xander and or Willow were around.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Dawn had awoken that morning feeling it and had thrust it aside as bad dream pallor. But now it was on her in full force and she felt the beginnings of a panic thing.
She made another tour of the house, all the rooms and closets and the...basement and laundry room...by this time, Vi was on her heels as they trouble pot shootted various scenarios.
Was there a blanket on the bed? Was that important? Were there clothes missing?
Maybe they went out real early and Spike is stranded somewhere and Buffy hasn’t come back yet?
Maybe Buffy took Spike away...maybe back to the crypt and away from temptation island.
Yeah, that could be it--maybe she decided Spike shouldn’t be around all these girls.
Yeah that’s what happened. She voiced this to Vi. Who puzzled her brow. But why would she think that? Had Spike done something?
Not Spike...but...
They checked the kitchen as Andrew came in from the yard--he looked timid...well he always looked timid...but he looked like he had something to day and it was going to take some squishing to get it out of him. And Dawn ignored him for the moment.
“Alright, alright no need to panic...we got the cell phones to Willow and Xander if we need to call them. Let’s check the yard and the garage and just do a little search down the block but--What?” Dawn demanded of Andrew “What?”
He gulped. “I’m no expert.” He insisted. And then rolled his eyes upward. “No that’s not true I am a demon expert just not an...ash expert.”
Silence.
“There’s some ash in the back yard...maybe...maybe Buffy dusted some vamps last night and...and...she...” His voice trialed away; he had no end to that scenario. Couldn’t see where the story might go.
Dawn didn’t say a word but went out the back door and out into the yard searching the grass until she found it. Ash. Yeah it looked like vampire ash. She’d certainly seen enough of it.
Everyone offered their hypotheses, all variations on Andrews. But Dawn saw what might have happened. Maybe Spike had lost it...finally and...and...
Maybe...maybe...Buffy even dusted him herself.
And then Vi asked quiet now. “Um did you say Spike was acting funny?”
And then nobody said it...but they all, surreptitiously stepped a little away from the ash that would soon be blown away.
Dawn, the scientist in her saving her sanity, went inside the garage and came back with two large storage jars and without stopping walked and knelt down and picked up the ash in handfuls and put it in the jar closest to her.
Vi knelt to help but Dawn pushed her away.
*
It was enough to fill a jar and a half and there it sat. Two storage jars on the kitchen counter. Next to a rolled up bag of rippled potato chips and a bag of cookies with chocolate chips and here, here was a chip off the ole block...and it wasn’t funny, it wasn’t...but Dawn just couldn’t seem to stop her mind from slipping sideways. To:
No.
No.
“No.”
She finally said it outloud.
“No.”
Giles looked up...eyebrows raised into the question he didn’t need to ask. He had arrived from the airport just thirty minutes ago to walk into the situation room. The Summer’s kitchen with only top ranking officers holding court. Dawn had called Xander and Willow and they all stood poised around the kitchen Island.
“No.” Dawn said again.
And she leaned in to look more closely at the jar nearest her...with Xander, Willow following suit.
Anya considered:
“Maybe it’s just leftover from the grill...ash from the charcoal in the grill...maybe it got knocked over...in a...well...drunken debate over politics...in the...uh...backyard last summer...10 months ago...and was just never blown away or...uh washed away by the rain....cuz you know it never rains in California...well...look at it--the composition is much the same...as charcoal brochettes, that is”
She offered as a concluding statement.
They said nothing but stepped in closer to stare at the two jars.
Buffy and Spike entered unnoticed through the back door--looked at each other and then at the curious quiet circle of Scoobies gathered around the kitchen island. Huh.
In tandem, they stepped up close until they stood close behind Xander and tried to peer around him to see what everyone was looking at.
Two jars with mildewy looking residue.
“Cleaning out the fridge are we?”
Spike observed mildly. Xander screamed.
Buffy and Spike jumped back a pace looking for the beastie to slay...and the group turned startled eyes to the duo by the door.
“Harris...there is another way to empty your bowels, mate...”
Xander shook his head and gestured toward the jar and a half of ash.
“We...we though that was you.”
Spike looked around Xander at the counter and observed mildly.
“No, thas’ not me.”
“Well...that isn’t exactly true...”
And Spike turned to look at Buffy and for a moment he couldn’t speak...he just had to look...and as he did, everyone in the kitchen shifted their attention to Buffy and the room grew quiet.
She glowed.
Power pure and bright as portable sunlight streamed from inside to out.
She was Buffy, still Buffy still slight and 5’3’ but not. Not. She seemed large...larger than life...stranger to death.
“Buffy...” Giles voice was a choke in his throat.
She turned her eyes, huge, green and glowing to her guardian with such a look of love Giles started to cry. It was the happy sad joy of seeing your little girl grown up...and away from you.
“What’s happened?” Dawn breathed.
Spike and Buffy looked at each other and smiled...it was faint, a subtle hint of lips. Their expressions were quiet but for all the world it looked like they were beaming. Both of them glowing from the inside out.
“It’s over.” Buffy finally said. “We are going to win.”
“This one.“ Amended Spike.
“A big one though.”
Corrected Buffy and to this Spike could only nod and dipped his head to hers. She wrapped her arms up around him and held him close until he calmed and somehow this display of intimate affection was more stunning than the news that the battle was over.
Giles sat down on a bar stool by the counter and placed his palms on the counter top. Something had changed. Something irrevocable...and while it might mean the safety of the world and battle won...it might also mean...
Willow was the first one to notice the bite marks. Or maybe it was her senses being pulled to the source of the energy connection...the draw of power...she noticed them on both Buffy’s and Spikes neck and managed to hold in the exclamation but not the gesture...her hand went on automatic to her own throat. But Xander was talking, asking something...
“How...what did you do? Did you...fight last night? What happened?”
“It’s happening now. We’re fighting now. Right now.”
Well that was enigmatic.
“You’re stronger. You have more power. Much more power.”
It was Willow...and her voice was even and low. She knew the temptation of power and she was beginning to tremble with the idea of what Buffy and Spike might have done.
Buffy nodded. “Spike helped me. Helped us.”
“It was your idea...” he bantered back...but his voice was soft...softer.
“Buffy...what have you done?” It was Giles asking this, his fears running parallel to Willows.
“It’s not what we did...it’s what we are doing now...I wanna show you something...”
And here she walked back into the open doorway and gestured for Spike to follow. Timidly he stepped into the path of direct sunlight and...stood in it.
Spike in sunlight.
Toasted but not toast.
“See?” She said brightly, sounding almost absurdly proud of his trick.
“So this is you...” Dawn pointed at the storage jar of ash “Or...is this you...” she pointed to the larger quantity in the second jar.
“It’s sorta from both of us. The sun had to burn it away to get to the good parts. You know, like how you fast forward through Star Wars to get to the bits with Han Solo...”
“HhhHow?” Stuttered Dawn
“He’s changing...because I’m changing...and I’m changing because--“
“--But...you turned down that offer of more power...you didn’t want more demon energy...” It burst from Willow as an exclamation and maybe a little accusation too.
Willow was putting it all together. “He turned you. Buffy...are you a vampire?”
Stunned silence...
Spike was looking at Buffy. What was the answer to that?
Buffy looked into everyone’s eyes in the room, one by one and then as a group. These were her friends her family, her comrades in arms and peace and piece of the pie for everybody and wouldn’t and hadn’t they shared everything over the years? Joy, sorrow...and soon...this thing she and Spike had done would reach around to touch them too. But they hadn’t played a part in it or been invited to the actual event...the showdown solution. And Buffy had to bear in mind that Willow might be feeling excluded.
“I had to act fast Willow...and I wasn’t sure about what the additional demon energy would mean, what it would do, but I was pretty sure you all would stop me...so...”
And here she took a breath to try again. She had to be honest, so they would hear the truth of it and understand it too.
“I’m not a vampire in the sense that you know it. But yes, Spike opened the door for me to his demon, and through his demon, to the demon tree...I guess. I added his demon to mine...to my humanity...and I’ve added the Slayer to His.”
“We are all connected...” murmured Giles “We are all genetically connected. The Slayer absorbed, transmuted the demon...and now is moving back through the demon family tree...”
“You are a virus! Buffy! You are like a computer virus!” Willow fairly shouted
“The 100th monkey principal...” Giles agreed.
“You have...the Slayer has infected the vampire family...Buffy...that’s...brilliant...”
Willow’s voice wound down to something like stunned wonder.
“I don’t get it...” Xander was near tears, crying really for something that sounded just terrible to him...what? Buffy...turned?
Giles cleared his throat and spoke up.
“Xander...if this works...every...every vampire...that is...as the Slayer works her way back through the genetic encoding...through Spike’s family tree until it works it’s way all the way back to the ancient ones...the Turok Han, even in the Hellmouth...will be...uh...turned...into...into...what Buffy?”
And here Giles looked to Buffy for an answer...she had moved beyond him...beyond them all...to near Goddess perhaps...and what kind of life could there be for her here on earth?
Here Buffy looked to Spike...she said nothing...this was his turn. When he realized she wasn’t going to explain, he looked sharply at her and she simply looked back at him wide eyed and soft smiled.
“Ah...ah hem...”Spike cleared his throat and damn it if he didn’t look like someone had just asked him to sing the theme from Mr. Roger’s neighborhood.
“It has something to do with the sun...what it does, how it can burn a vamp...and...and if the vampire can welcome it...want the sun.”
The puzzled expressions meant only one thing. A demonstration. He sighed, fatigued at having to take the time to paint so neatly between the lines so they all could comprehend the bigger picture.
He stepped to Buffy and gently picked up the long chain that always held the cross at the end. He dangled it, and the morning sun sparkled and shone on...the son.
He touched the cross. No smoke, no smell of burning flesh as Spike touched the son.
Silence. He started to put the cross back down, but Buffy stilled his hand and instead removed the chain from around her neck and raised herself on tiptoe to place it over Spikes head where it came to rest on his chest.
She kissed his cheek and they rested together like that for a moment...drawing strength and succor from each other.
Stunned silence and finally Xander asked; he had to.
“Are...are...you dead Buffy?”
She laughed and it sounded wonderful and free.
“I think a better question is; is Spike alive?”
Giles removed his glasses and noticed his hands were trembling, almost shaking. How had she done it? How had she gotten the idea? And then found the nerve?
“It...it was a terrible gamble Buffy...”
“Oh yeah...it was a terrible idea...”
“How...how did you get the...how did you come to make that leap in judgment?”
Buffy looked at man she loved like a Father and then turned to the man she loved like a man...
She simply looked at Spike and he at her.
That was how.
There should have been applause...and it felt like it. They wanted to...all en masse wanted some kind of exclamation...but they had all seen too much...been through too much for such an act of spontaneous gaiety. But the beginnings...the very beginning of what this might mean for them all...was just beginning to sink in.
“So...so all vamps...are going to...be...uh turned...er...back?” Dawn was still trying to puzzle it out.
Buffy and Spike looked at each other...and drew closer together until they where fairly embracing as they stood side by side.
“No...not all...I don’t think so...the transition was hard for Spike...it still is...we’re going to go hide out for a while...for a few days...we’ll be in one of the empty houses nearby...but I didn’t want you to worry...also you had to know what was happening...but...” And here she looked back at Spike.
“I...think the soul is key...in being able to survive the change--“
“--Want the change.” Spike amended and Buffy nodded, correcting herself
“Want the change.”
Pause.
“But some might make it.” This was Spike speaking and he had been so quiet...the room stopped to hear what he had to say.
“There are degrees of humanity left in a vamp...just like degrees of evil in a human...remember The Judge? He burned humanity...and was able to burn...some vamps...but...not others...if a vamp has enough humanity left...it could make it...”
And here his voice wound down as he thought of Dru.
She hadn’t made it. He knew it already. Just too many broken places in the lass for the sun to leak through and how would she survive herself? Her conscious when what she had done to all those children...all those babies...no...no...it was a mercy...he told himself.
He felt Buffy’s arm wind around him as she felt the dip in his energy and he leaned into her.
“So how...er...long before this reaches...the Turok Han?” Anya asked. “Is it like...the time it takes me to ‘knit a sweater long’...or ‘boil hot dogs long’? Cuz choice A may already be too late...”
Buffy shrugged and looked at Spike and then the cell phone rang from where it was plugged in on the hallway desk.
No one seemed interested so Andrew went to pick it up.
“I don’t know...I was thinking maybe seal the Hellmouth lid and wait until you hear them perc like popcorn. But I don’t know how long...
“My sense is we have about a week...” This was Willow speaking and everyone turned to listen to her. “I can feel the energy now...holy canole...can anybody else feel it?”
She looked around at the blank faces except Buffy who just beamed at her...with a look that said: ‘Welcome on board.’
Giles picked up the thread...problem solving now...doing the thing he could do best to add to the success of the thing.
“Perhaps...we should leave town...when it happens. In case it gets...explosive...we’re talking about a tremendous amount of energy building for a meltdown. Perhaps we could simulate an emergency through a glamour...Willow could we simulate something to get everybody to leave town?”
“Yeah...yes...I can work something out...a radiation crisis or something...”
“I can get the concrete...I can pour a new basement...over the Hellmouth seal...if you need...just to prevent anybody from trying to open it before it happens...”
Xander offered quietly. A stand up guy and that’s a fact.
Giles nodded...they were a team again.
“Just enough to seal the area...to make it difficult to access...I should imagine...until...the uh...”
“Slayer pox...” offered Dawn
“Until the Slayer pox can reach back that far...Willow thinks a week...Buffy?”
Buffy looked at Spike for permission and he nodded.
“This happened at sunrise...first me...then almost immediately Spike...and...and Drusilla is...gone...”
“It’s an Angel on the line.” Andrew announced: “Anybody know an Angel...wow...talk about being in with the in crowd....”
All in the room turned to look at Andrew.
“Angel.” Dawn reasoned. “Angel...it happened to Angel...”
She turned to look at Buffy to see her reaction...to see the joy in her sister’s eyes.
She was gone. Buffy and Spike were gone.
Huh.
Anya explained.
“Buffy pulled Spike out the door when Andrew came back with his message.”
Silence.
“They probably went to go have crazy balloon popping sex.” Anya explained to the uncomprehending faces.
Oh.
Giles almost smiled and just, just managed to cover his mouth in time.
“Uh...I’ll take that phone call...” Offered Xander as he sauntered out of the room almost whistling.
Giles removed his glasses and noticed his still shaking hands. It had been a gamble, my god, a terrible gamble and now maybe Buffy was a Goddess on Earth, so powerful she had become...but...maybe...maybe she had a consort too. In Spike.
Oh all things, of all people, and after so many odd years, this, of all endings.
But...still there were things to do...and perhaps it was a time to look forward rather than backward.
And she wouldn’t be alone in this. That was something.
His thoughts were interrupted by Dawn crying out.
“My storage jars! Spike stole my storage jars!”
“Well...technically...” Giles began
“It may be the last remaining evidence in the history of science of vampire ash!”
“Ya gotta let go sometimes, Dawnie...Come on Giles...” Willow called. “Let’s plan ahead...I think Buffy just delegated the rest of this to the home team...let’s look ahead there’s no time like today for tomorrow...”
Giles quoted softly
“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creep in this petty pace from day to day until the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to...dusty death...”
Giles put his glass back on...and began to breathe again.
Dawn smiled.
“Whatever.”
*
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