The blinding light cut through the New York skyline, frightening even the most hardened New Yorkers. The traffic signal showing red to all lanes of traffic quickly became old news, as several cars had already started moving through the light. However, the lightning from a cloudless sky was rather new. Then the mirror-like portal which opened in the middle of the street had everyone merely scratching their heads. When blizzard force winds began blowing snow though the opening in early August, then six Clydesdale-looking horses emerged pulling what appeared to be a Gypsy-style wagon through behind them, the New Yorkers all became speechless.

On top of the wagon a man covered in furs whipped the horses to increase their speed while harshly screaming in a melodic unknown language. His golden hair whipped about his face, as he guided the van down the street towards the area hospital. Through traffic and across the parking lot, his blue eyes flashed at the honking cars around him. Finally, he forced the house on wheels to a sudden stop in front of the emergency room doors.

"{Elizabet, Elizabet?!}" he screamed frantically, still using the melodic language.



A smaller bundle of furs ran stumbling out the backdoor of the conveyance. Carrying a smaller burden, she raced past the man and headed through the sliding door of the Hospital.

The man moved past her, removing his furs and showing a lean, but muscular form in black leather pants, a white silk shirt, and tightly fitted, black leather jacket that only reached his pants. He reopened the rear door to the wagon, and a second female, who appeared to be perhaps in her mid-teens, stepped outside. The girl had long, white-blond hair and wore a blue and gold leather and velvet dress over her lean frame stepped out.

The man began speaking in a hushed, gentle tone as he threw his outer furs into the wagon and pulled out a third female. This one was also dressed in blue and gold, only hers was completely in velvet. The girl, perhaps five, was picked up and carried hurriedly into the hospital.

The teen crawled back into the wagon box and moved the wagon out into what seemed a hospital park. The teen then climbed down and began removing the harnesses from the horses and getting feedbags from under the wagon. After the wagon and horses were seen to she too ran into the hospital.


The woman moved into the hospital removing the furs from her precious burden. Underneath them rested a boy, three-years-old at the most, pale and sweating. She approached the admin desk removing her own furs now. Her tear-streaked face made the woman seem younger and her hands trembled. Dressed in blue leather pants and surcoat, her clothing resembled the male’s, but the gold trim made them the same colors as the girls.

One of the nurses behind the counter harrumphed at her even before the petite, golden-haired woman reached the counter. "I wonder how many animals died so that..."

"I don't know," The small woman’s teary eyes suddenly turned as hard as emeralds. "But next time my kids get cold I could wrap them in fat bitches’ hide?" While her voice sounded hard as steel, her words seemed almost hesitant as if hadn't spoken English in a long time. "Of course, the tanner would have to be very good to get that stench out of it."

Without preamble, the mother looked at the second woman sitting at the desk and changed her tone. "My son is dying; he needs a doctor."

"I need to see your insurance papers," the first woman stated coldly.

"My son is dying! This is a hospital," the leather clad woman responded slowly. "Isn't that what you are for?"

"Madam, we need your insurance papers," the evil hell-bitch reiterated as she grinned.

"He's barely breathing," the second nurse said as she had her hand on the boy’s chest, "and his pulse is weak."

"Erin, you know I need her paper work," the annoying one repeated as the second nurse moved the sick child towards a table, obviously used to look over critical patients.

"Margaret, if this child dies, it won't be his mother that kills you." Erin moved her hand in front of the boy’s face to feel his breath while motioning for the mother to remove his oddly laced shirt.

“The hospital administrator is my uncle William, and…"

This time her voice cut off on its own as something silver, hard and sharp was suddenly pressed against the side of her head and slowly moved upwards. She saw something falling and as she grasped it, to her horror, she realized it was her own hair that the steel blade had shaved from the side of her head.

"Funny luv, my name’s William too. William the Bloody." As Margaret turned towards the voice and stared into a pair of yellow cat like eyes, she lost control of her bladder, then passed out.

Nurse Erin had just finished her initial examination in time to catch what had happened. "Finally some peace. Let’s take your son to the back," she suggested to the mother.

"Oh Mr. Wordsworth, there you are," sounded a voice from behind the family. "We have your insurance papers with us, sir."

An older man moved up behind Spike. The man was British, of medium height with a mustache. His tweed now crumpled, his collar sweaty, as if he had run a long way to get there.

Several other tweed-clad men came through the hospital doors, followed by the teenage girl in gold and blue. Her lavender eyes sought those of her Pappa before she began chanting in the same lyrical language from before, her long slender fingers drawing flaming, purple runes in the air in preparation of attack.



++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[46 days ago Sunnydale time (Or in the midst of Becoming 2)]

Sometimes moments occur which are far stronger than mere epiphanies. These moments are turning points in time and space. Moments, so powerful, that they alter the course of everything. In the Summers household in Sunnydale, such a moment was taking place. Instead of screaming with anger and raving against the fates, Joyce Summers clearly perceived – not heard, but really saw – the truth. The mother of the Slayer grasped the plain, but simple and oh so painful truth.

"You have to save the world, don't you?" Joyce wanted to panic, but she was beyond that now. The blood on Buffy’s clothes, the late nights, the bruises – she understood now with perfect clarity. Her little girl was a hero, and more than likely, she wouldn't live to see morning. As much as it hurt, Joyce didn't want her baby's last memories of her mother to be ones of anger and recriminations.

The lighting in the dim room seemed to elevate not alleviate her motherly concern. Near panic threatened to overwhelm her. Her first instinct was to drag her daughter upstairs and lock her in a closet. However, the “Truth” would not have that; the “Truth” dictated her next actions

Buffy nodded in response to her mother’s question. She was afraid, and all she really wanted most right now was for her mom to make it all better. However, Buffy was older now, and this was how things were.

Joyce looked at the strange man standing with her daughter. "Spike, isn't it?"

Although he was dressed to inspire anything but confidence, Joyce grasped for any straws she could find.

"Yeah, Spike," he answered. For some reason, this woman scared him. Even though Spike knew he could kill her, when he looked at her, he saw his own mum's haunted eyes.

"I expect you to protect my daughter." Her words brooked no argument, but her eyes were filled with fear.

Buffy's horror-filled gaze was more than enough to make Spike agree. "Sure mum; I'll be dust before harm gets to your bit." The smirk covering Spike’s face at that remark had Buffy ready to stake him and take her chances with Angelus and the Loony alone.

Before she could react, Spike stated, "Need to be getting back," as he departed in a twirl of leather and darkness.

"Mom, Spike's evil; you can't be expecting him to keep his promises," Buffy told her mom as she went to her weapons bag. Buffy got that this was just her mom's way of dealing. It didn't mean anything; it was just her mom being a mom.

Joyce, however, had seen the Truth, about Spike. He was a man who held his word as his bond and would be five days dead before he let it be broken.

"Get whatever you need dear, but hurry. The police will be back looking for you at any time." Joyce paced like a nervous, scared housewife in those clichéd movies, and she cursed herself for not being more like her daughter. While her child went for crossbows, stakes and swords, Joyce reached into her purse and pulled out a 9mm. Beratta. As she moved into the kitchen where she stored her ammo, Buffy came back down the stairs. Buffy’s expression made it clear that the slayer was obviously taken aback at her mother's weapon.

"What?" Joyce asked as she loaded several clips of carve-nosed hollow tips. "I'm not stupid, Buffy. After that awful woman bit me last year, then those poor deformed gang bangers attacked you at school… and then YOU were supposed to be a violent gang member with crack headed enemies everywhere - that was what that awful troll said - I thought I needed protection."

"But...you aren't going." Buffy's voice was very near a whine.

"Buffy, if you fail will I live or die?" Joyce asked her.

"Die," Buffy drug out.

"Then it's very stupid to think that I would let you and Spike die and then die as well without at least trying to help," Joyce stated in a very patient “Mother” voice.

"Ok, but this is weird." Buffy shook her head sadly. "I am going to fight my ex boyfriend with my worst enemy and my mom along for the ride."

__________________________________


As his own words hit him, Spike paused. He’d given the Slayer's mum his word. Of all the the evil things he was capable of, Spike maintained that his word, once given to a lady, was his bond.

The Slayer's mum was a lady. "Bloody buggerin hell!" slipped from his lips, as he grasped the full impact of what he had done. Now, his goal wasn't saving Dru from her own stupidity, but rather he now had to save the bloody slayer. If possible he would have been in a cold sweat.

The scariest part of all was how right it felt.

__________________________________

Rupert Giles had long since accepted the fact that he was going to die. He knew it long before Angelus had picked up the chainsaw. He closed his eyes in prayer to a god he was no longer sure existed; just praying that Buffy would survive.

*THWAP*

At the sound, Giles opened his eyes looked up in time to see a now-mobile Spike beating Angelus with a crowbar with an evil glint in his eyes. Maybe there was a god after all. His old mum had always told him that God worked in mysterious ways, but the idea of Spike saving the world wasn’t just mysterious, it was down right mind boggling.

Drusilla rushed Spike from the side, in an effort to save her beloved daddy.

For the first time in his unlife, Spike felt almost relieved to take out all of his frustrations on his insane sire. Before this very moment, Spike had never desired to show both his insane sire and his cowardly grand-sire that he was greater than them both. He was William the Bloody Slayer of Slayers! He turned and threw his nearly unconscious sire at her
daddy’s feet.

"Why Spike?" Angelus asked his grandchilde.

"Made a promise to a lady."

Angelus looked around the room at his minions. "As my grandchilde once said, ‘this isn't a spectater spectator sport, people."

As the minions rushed Spike, Angel added, "I'll give the lady your regrets."

"No need, lover." Buffy's overly cheerful voice came from behind Angel.

"The lady is here," Joyce informed everyone in a somber voice.

Angelus turned seeing three humans arrayed against him. He expected Buffy and Xander, but Joyce was a surprise.

"WHY?" he yelled heavenward. "I am a genius, and this is my masterwork. Can't you people leave me in peace to end the world?"

Xander's released a crossbow bolt as his answer. Unfortunately, Angelus caught it, then broke it in his hand. "Soooo Buffy, is your mom a better lay than you were? Must not be, or Hank might have stayed. Just face it, Summers women are dead fucks."

Joyce let a bolt fly. Angelus caught Joyce's like he had Xander's, turning slightly as he did so. "Nuuh Joyce…."

*Thwaap* Joyce’s second bolt buried itself in the side of his neck. "Oh yeah Joyce, you're gonna die," Angel said as he grabbed at the bolt.

"Not likely," Buffy said as she rushed her ex-lover.


Surprisingly, Rupert wasn't paying attention to his slayer; instead, he studied the bleach blond vampire that had saved him earlier as Spike fought twenty minions and a shrieking Dru. Spike was good. Actually, Spike was beyond good at this moment. Rupert once again thanked God - thanking God that Spike had never fought Buffy with this ferocity. Much to Rupert’s dismay, he understood that if Spike had, Buffy would have been dead long since.

Twenty became twelve in seconds. Twelve become nine less than a minute later. Nine become four nearly as quickly. Then Dru attacked him from behind, throwing him into Acaltha. Spike lay there for a few seconds as Dru screached at him incoherantly. Then, as he tried to get up, Buffy landed on top of him, blood on her face from her fight with Angel. She wiped the blood from her face before standing and then reached her bloodstained hand down to Spike to draw him to his feet.

"Six on five; looks like your team is losing Angelus." Buffy actually grinned at her former lover.

"And look," Buffy said pointing at the sword stuck in Acaltha, "shiney."

"Slayer, NO!" Spike yelled, grabbing the blade part of the sword trying to hold it in the stone, but Buffy drew it anyway, and Acaltha opened.

"Oh, this is poetic justice," Angelus said as he clapped. "The slayer slays the world."

Buffy looked back at the portal behind her, fear and pain filling her eyes. Immediately she realized that she had to jump directly into hell to save the world; it was more than anyone should ask a girl her age.

Spike looked into Joyce's haggard face and knew what he had to do. He’d made a promise after all.

"Took this off the slayer I killed in New York," Spike said, taking off his duster and handing it to Buffy. "Seems right you get it." He didn't like the girl, but he had always known that he would go out like this. Eying Rupert, Spike stated, “Watcher, on cold nights knock back a pint and think of me."

"What?" Buffy said in a shaky voice.

"Twas my blood, luv," Spike said sadly. "This is my task."

Spike turned quickly and walked into the portal to hell. Giles was flabbergasted that a souless demon would willingly give his life to save the world. Several long moments passed before anyone noticed that instead of closing the portal grew.

"Poor Willy, not man enough to get the job done?" Angel laughed.

"I think that's the problem Angel; Spike always gets the job done." Buffy squared her shoulders under the demon's coat. If Spike could do it, so could she. "You never were man enough for a real woman were you?" Buffy walked slowly through the portal and it closed behind her.

"Buffffffyyyyyyy!!!" the now re-ensouled Angel screamed.


do I need to say to be continued??