Buffy made it to the nearest ladder before the events that had just taken place hit her full force. Spike had just saved her. Spike had just killed Faith. Spike had just prepared himself to face off against his former lover.
She paused and looked back down the tunnel she had come from. Spike had also lied about the chip. Spike was also a one-hundred percent, fully recovered vampire, and therefore a killer, and therefore her enemy...
Cursing, she looked down at her wrists. If she could only figure out a way to get these things off, she could... she could what exactly? Go help her soulless vampire partner who was now fully capable of killing her? Go kill the soulless vampire partner who she had reluctantly come to accept as a friend? - and it didn't matter if he'd been hating her the whole time - if he'd meant what he'd said about biding his time to kill her - *she* had a soul, she had compassion, she had worked with him for too long now to pretend that he was still the same enemy he'd been four years ago.
He might not have to face the moral dilemmas she was faced with at this turn of events, but her conscience, her soul, demanded that she come to terms with what exactly she was feeling for him. She refused to go through another Angelus episode in her life - she would just have to make her decision now, and learn to live with it.
The earth rumbled and shook beneath her then, and in a heartbeat she knew her choice; Angelus had been cruel - sadistic - obsessed, Spike, even in the worst she'd seen and heard of him had never gone that far over the edge. He was *not* Angelus.
Sprinting back down the tunnel, she peeked into the room then closed her eyes. There was a dull greenish, greyish smoke rising from the fissure in the floor - but how? Drusilla had said the ritual required her blood... her eyes widened and drifted over to Faith's fallen body... the blood of a Slayer."
Sneaking back into the room, she ignored the fighting going on, the two combatants so caught up in each other that neither registered her presence. Searching the dead girl's body, she soon found what she was looking for, and pulled the small key from the pocket of Faith's jacket.
Unlocking her shackles, she dragged the body from the edge of the fissure, although the damage had already been done - Faith's blood had pooled and then dribbled over the edge of the fissure and into the depths of the hellmouth. Buffy only hoped that not enough blood had been spilt.
Looking back down at the dead Slayer, then over at the battle going on only a few feet away, she then pulled the dagger from Faith's chest and stood. Spike was crouching with his back to her at the moment, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, as he growled at Dru. The vampiress was also crouched, her eyes and face wild as she returned the growl with equal fervour.
Buffy aimed the dagger carefully, then unhesitatingly let it fly. Dru shrieked in surprise and pain as the dagger imbedded itself into her left shoulder, Spike didn't even hesitate as he lunged forward and sunk his fangs into his former lover's throat.
Unsure why she was doing it exactly, she forced herself to stay, despite the fact that Spike hadn't seemed to register her presence - or maybe, she realized, *because* Spike hadn't seemed to register her presence. She closed her eyes in silent sympathy as the growls and grunts became whimpers and sobs, then quietly slipped out of the room again and slumped over in the nearest alcove.
Her heart went out to the peroxide blonde vampire as she listened to him cry in the room not ten feet away from her, and she was torn between keeping her distance and running to his side to comfort him. She had no clue why he had chosen to attack Dru like that, why even he had chosen to help her when everything she thought she'd known about him suggested he'd do anything for the whacko he was helplessly in love with.
How long she sat there listening to him, she couldn't recall, but when he finally emerged, his face showed no signs of any kind of emotion whatsoever. The literally dead expression on his drawn face broke her heart anew. She'd felt almost exactly as he looked when she'd been forced to send Angel to Hell six years ago.
He passed right by her without even acknowledging her presence, and from the blank look in his eyes, she doubted he'd have even noticed her if she'd jumped out of the shadows and done a song and dance in front of him. Watching him wander down the tunnel, she turned her attention back to the room. Entering once again, she noticed that he hadn't killed Drusilla, though certainly the vampiress looked much paler than normal. The knife had also been withdrawn from the vampiress' shoulder and thrust into the side of her neck, causing what little blood was left within the unconscious body to leak out slowly, drop by drop.
She shook her head in confusion at the act, then rushed back out into the tunnels to follow Spike. He emerged back to the surface on Crawford Street, and headed towards the mansion, bypassing the large house in favour of the hill behind it.
Frowning, Buffy continued to follow him, watching as he stood motionless on the top of the hill facing the east. A few minutes passed and he did nothing, then he fell to his knees and lowered his head.
Realization dawned on Buffy as she continued to watch his motionless form. In less than an hour, the sun would be coming up, she closed her eyes and groaned. Not again. Why was it that the only suicidal vampires around had to be the ones that wormed their way into her heart first? Trudging up the hill she gingerly sat down beside him, and when he didn't react, placed a comforting hand on his knee.
"Come to watch the big bad vampire go poof?" he asked humourlessly, still not moving, not even to look at her.
"Spike, I don't think this is the answer." she told him gently, the Slayer in her wondering why she had to care so much what he did one way or another. Wouldn't suicide make her life a whole lot easier? Then she wouldn't have to face staking him herself later... and there *would* be a later. Without the chip curbing his violence, there was nothing keeping him from falling right back into his old habits.
"No?" Spike shot back bitterly, raising his gaze to the sky, "Let's see, I lose the woman I love more than blood to the man I once called a friend, causing me to go against everything that I am to team up with my blood enemy so I can help save the world and get my woman back. I do all this, only to get very painfully dumped by said woman, and end up returning, not once but twice to the place that started this whole mess.
"I find out that the Gem of Amara is buried here somewhere, find it, only to lose it, then find myself turned into some bloody lab rat by a bunch of humans who can't decide if they want to play god, or *be* god. To make a long story short, they stick a friggin' chip in my head that won't let me lift a single soddin' finger against any living being, which leads to me going against everything that I am yet again to help my mortal enemy because suddenly I realize I have no where left to turn.
"After suffering through that Hell for four long years, I finally get my bite back, and, so I think, my woman, only to find out that I don't really want to kill my enemy anymore, and my woman doesn't really want to be with me." He snorted with self-disgust as he bowed his head once again. "I'm at the end of my rope, Slayer - I'm not crawling back to you and running around like a little clone of Angel."
Buffy was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he'd just admitted aloud to not really wanting her dead, as his last words broke through to her. "You're *not* a clone of Angel," she insisted, "-and no one thinks of you that way anyway. And why can't you come back? Dru was a-a ho, if she couldn't see what she was giving up when decided to dump you, but Spike, you're... you're needed... here." she finished in a near whisper.
He let out a bark of laughter at that, "Needed; really? By who? You and the loser patrol?" he shook his head incredulously, "For four long years I've hated you all, each and every day swearing I'd kill you as soon as I got the chip out - you think you know me Slayer? You think any of your ilk do? It was called a game - a role - a temporary role that I had to suffer through before I could do the one thing I ever really wanted to do. Kill. You. All." he emphasized each of those three last words with a punch to the ground.
For some reason that didn't come as much of a surprise to her - and she knew she probably should have been a little upset - but there was something else underlying his words. She crossed her fingers and silently hoped she was right about it; as much as he hated it, some small part of him had enjoyed belonging somewhere - even if he still wanted to kill them.
"We *all* need you," she repeated, "-we all care about you, even though some of us might be loathe to admit it..."
"Save it, Slayer." he interrupted coldly, "I couldn't care less what your little group may or may not need or want or care about."
"Why? You don't like the truth?" she challenged, her frustration growing. "You don't like what life dished out for you? Well tough. Life isn't fair - take it from someone who's had nothing *but* unfairness heaped up on her. You've had a few obstacles, heck, you've had a few *mountains* shoved in front of you, but this - this giving up is *not* the answer."
"You wouldn't understand." he answered dully, "You're a human - *I'm* not supposed to be feeling half the things I do..."
"Bull." Buffy shook her head. "You're as anomalous a vampire as I am a Slayer. We both emote far more than we probably should, we're both the odd ones out of our kind. You think I haven't lived through Hell several times over? Well I have, and each time I feel like a piece of me has been ripped away and lost forever, but you don't see me lying down and giving up. It's hard, Spike, I know, I've been there, but I've had people who care enough to help me through it, and like it or not, you've got people who'll help you through whatever you're going through too. Giving up like this is the coward's way Spike, and if nothing else, I *know* you're not a coward."
Spike shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah, I am." he disagreed completely deadpan.
From his tone of voice she knew further argument would be impossible. With Angel at least she had had their love driving her desperation, with Spike though, she was at a loss as to what she could or should say. In fact, with Spike she was at a loss as to where the desperation to keep him around was even stemming from.
No, that was a lie. She knew very well where her desperation right now was coming from - but there was no way she'd ever admit to it aloud...
Glancing at the rapidly lightening sky, Buffy tried one last gambit, "How bout a deal Spike?" she offered, silently praying for a miracle.
He finally raised his head to look at her, reluctance clearly written on his face, "What kind of deal?" he asked warily.
Buffy took a deep breath, it had happened once before, and if the Powers That Be had any heart at all, it could happen again... "If the sun comes up, and you don't... poof... then you give me your word that you won't try this again, and you'll continue helping me."
He gave her an odd look, then rolled his eyes, "Sure. Whatever." he agreed flippantly.
Grabbing his shoulders, she turned him around to face her, holding his gaze with her own. "Your word, Spike." she insisted more firmly.
Pursing his lips, he glanced at the sky, there was not a cloud to be seen, and Buffy knew what he had to be thinking, "Fine." he agreed more solemnly, "If I'm not a pile of dust by the time the sun is up, I'll keep helping you - no tricks though Slayer. You knock me out and drag me behind the nearest tree, the deal's off."
She nodded, and on some impulse she couldn't begin to explain, she wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened slightly, and she half expected him to pull away, but then he relaxed again. She continued to silently pray, her eyes closed tightly.
"I think..." she whispered hoarsely, unsure who, if anyone, she was talking to, knowing only that it was very likely that this last ditch gamble might not pay off, and suddenly needing to voice aloud the one emotion, the one feeling, she knew she'd regret forever if she refused acknowledging it, "I think I... love you."
A stiff silence answered her, then a genuinely curious voice asked, "Why?"
"You're all I've got." she whispered back, as the first rays of dawn flickered across the horizon, "You're all I've got."
Spike froze as he heard her whispered words. 'I love you.'? - no, she didn't. She didn't even know what love was the stupid chit, she couldn't possibly even begin to truly understand the significance of those words... and yet...
"Why?" he heard himself asking, for some reason needing desperately to know. One brief fantasy - he'd had one brief fantasy about this moment - or something closely resembling this moment, minus perhaps his impending death - and he was doomed to have it haunt him forever. The fact that forever would only be another few seconds was lost on him completely as he waited for her answer.
"You're all I've got." she whispered softly, silent tears flowing down her cheeks and onto the side of his head that she was leaning on. A searing, burning pain engulfed him as he heard her murmur once again, "You're all I've got."
Funny how he'd been so prepared to end it all fifteen seconds ago, so absolutely certain that there would be not a single regret facing him as he watched his first sunrise in nearly two centuries. Also funny was how three little words, followed closely by four little words, could change that preparedness and certainty so drastically, so quickly.
"Please don't leave me..." a far away voice begged, as he felt a searing, white-hot pain spread across his body, "-I promise I'll never leave you, never hurt you, never make you go through all that pain again..."
He wanted to grasp onto those words, grasp onto the person delivering those words, grasp on and never let go. But of course, nothing ever went his way on this Hellmouth, his insides felt as though they were being stuffed with red-hot coals, yet no scream would form in his throat, despite the mind numbing pain.
He realized, just as he lost consciousness, that he really hadn't been ready for final death - he realized that he actually *wanted* to live, not just for the Slayer cradling him in her arms, but also for himself. He'd wasted so much time tramping about in denial and anger, completely blind to what had been going on around him - he didn't have a soul, hadn't ever had a soul - nor did he want one now, but he had, though he refused to admit to anyone, especially himself, changed. Changed enough that he was actually curious about what working on the other side of things might be like...
A brief flash of light blinded him, and a symphony of whispers flooded his ears before all fell silent, and he let the darkness swallow him.
It took Buffy a moment to realize that there was still a body in her arms. A body completely bathed in sunlight that should have been combusted to a smattering of ash by now. A fresh torrent of tears flooded down her cheeks as she looked skyward and sent a silent thank you out to whoever had been listening.
A second chance. She was getting a second chance - *he* was getting a second chance. Just as Angel had been given. She looked back down at him, at the way the sun was playing across his features and smiled. No, not like Angel had been given - a different chance - a completely different chance.
Silently debating whether or not to move him, she decided not, instead she leaned over, gently shaking him. First she'd make sure he was okay, then they'd see about moving him.
Drusilla looked over at the fallen Slayer as she forced her eyes open - now, the shadows urged, she had to act now. Reaching up to the dull ache in the side of her neck, she grabbed the hilt of the dagger and, with some effort pulled it out.
Spike had betrayed her. Why hadn't the stars told her of that possibility? She wouldn't have let him die - she could never do that to him - all she'd needed was a little blood. The spells had already been cast, she'd done everything she could...
*Now* - she frowned at the shadows as she rolled over and dragged herself to her feet, they wanted her to complete the ritual - but it was too late now, wasn't it?
With faltering steps, she staggered slowly towards the dead mortal in the room with her, falling bonelessly to the ground once she reached her destination. Her fangs elongated immediately at the proximity to so much spilt blood, and she fed hungrily for several long seconds.
The blood was revitalizing - she hadn't tasted that other Slayer - the one she'd killed for her daddy - Spike had told her that they were yummy, but she'd had no idea!
*NOW* - forcing herself away from the body, her eyes spotted the trickle of blood that had dribbled into the mouth of hell, and at last she understood. It wasn't too late, not yet.
Slashing her own wrist with her nails, she dragged herself towards the fissure holding her arm out and watching as her blood pooled on the surface of her pale skin only to slowly drip down into the dark depths of the earth. A smile crossed her lips as she felt the powers rise, unleashing the beast. Maybe, things would work out after all...
LA: Angel glanced around the bar with a frown, wondering how he'd gotten there. Shaking his head he rose from the bar and headed to the door. Sunup was only a few minutes away, but he recognized the bar - he'd be able to make it back to the office in time.
Starting off, he passed by the alley next to the bar, catching a faint whiff of blood as he did so. Pausing, he strode in and looked around, then backed away in confusion as he stared down at the young woman lying on the ground. There were no sounds of breathing, no heartbeat...
Snippets of memories returned in a jumbled flash, him getting up out of bed, getting dressed, making his way here, dancing with her briefly then bringing her out here and... and...
He shook his head. This couldn't be happening, how could he have possibly done... *that*?
Backing out of the alley, he rushed back towards the office, his mind a whirl. Something was very wrong - he hadn't felt this rush of guilt and emotion since his soul had been restored...
He closed his eyes as he stopped mid-stride, no. It couldn't be. Angelus was locked away safely. If the demon had gotten out, Angel was sure he would have known.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he quickly hurried along again. He'd have to talk to Wesley, maybe get the former Watcher to start watching him... there had to be some kind of logical explanation to all of this...
End of Part 7/7