A/N As always April is credited with keeping my wayward grammer in check.
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Everything stilled. Xander’s stake frozen in mid strike, Tara’s pretty face contorted with pain, her arms wrapped around Willow's limp body. Spike frowned in confusion as the scene began to shimmer like a reflection on broken water. Had he failed, had he made the wrong choice?
The world fell away and he found himself standing, surrounded by soft golden light, so bright and sacred that for a moment he almost stepped back. Almost covered his demon eyes to shield himself from the shining goodness of it, but he didn’t. No light, no matter how bright or benign could shine more brilliantly than his slayer’s golden radiance. He wasn’t afraid of the light, not anymore.
“You have done well, my child.” The voice was soft and affectionate, drawing him with its almost maternal pride. A slender figure stepped out of the light, her arms spread in welcome, her comely face open and tender. And confused. “What?”
“Hello, pet,” he greeted, his lips quirking in amusement at her evident surprise. “Expecting someone else?”
He regarded her with interest as she studied him. She could have been any age between forty and sixty. She seemed timeless, as if she were beyond anything as mundane as the ravages of age. She was undeniably beautiful, even with soft lines etched around her bright blue eyes and wide, shapely mouth. Her hair was honey brown and streaked with grey, falling in loose waves over her shoulders, its soft lines enhancing her high cheekbones and the elegant line of her jaw.
She frowned, deep creases appearing across her pale brow. “Vampire?” she asked, with a disbelieving shake of her head.
“Last I checked,” he responded, titling his head and locking eyes with her, ignoring the almost unnerving comfort of her gaze.
She regarded him for another long moment, her lips turned down at the corners, her bright, intelligent eyes boring into his. Then she laughed—a tinkling, youthful laugh—and held out her hand to him palm down. He surprised himself by taking her offered hand without reservation and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.
“Come,” she invited, linking her arm through his and guiding him down the gleaming corridor of light through which she had appeared. “I hope you will forgive my rudeness. I am the last guardian of the Scythe.” She glanced at him as they walked. “I must admit to being greatly surprised by your arrival. We had expected a different champion to come and claim the Scythe.”
“I’m here for the Scythe, pet,” Spike replied, feeling himself sinking further into the easy pleasure of this woman’s company. Still he felt compelled to correct her, “But a champion I ain’t.”
She didn’t reply, just paused for a moment to study his eyes. Then she gave him a half smile and shook her head, whether in agreement or denial, he couldn’t say. He changed the subject, curiosity making him bold, “You were expecting a Slayer.” It wasn’t a question. The challenges had been designed to test a human, that much was obvious, and what human could face them if not a slayer?
“Yes,” she answered, her free hand coming to rest on his arm. “The Scythe is destined for a slayer. But only a slayer capable of facing the challenges is worthy of it.”
It was Spike’s turn to halt their progress, turning her gently so he could look into her face. “How’s that then?” he asked. “Nothing here the slayer couldn’t do blindfolded.”
She titled her head and gave him an enigmatic smile. “You do not truly understand the nature of the test,” she told him, her melodic voice like balsam in his mind.
…………..
“Buffy!” Giles called urgently as he burst into the kitchen, a large dusty book open in his hands. “Willow,” he addressed the room's only occupant, “where’s Buffy?”
“She’s putting the potentials through their paces in the yard.” Willow gestured to the door with her sandwich. “Is something wrong?”
He ignored her question and went to the door, calling the Slayer inside. His voice must have betrayed his worry, because she came hurtling through the door only moments later. “Giles, what’s wrong?”
“Buffy. We’ve made a terrible mistake.” He deposited the book on the counter and perched himself on a stool. “With regards to the Temple of Areathon.” He paused, taking a deep breath before locking eyes with the agitated slayer. “It seems the text we used is deliberately misleading about the nature of the temple and its trials.”
Buffy shook her head briskly, twin lines appearing between her eyebrows. “Misleading how?”
“According to this book, the information we found is a deliberate falsehood designed to deter or mislead the unworthy. The true nature of the temple is described here,” Giles explained, placing his hand on the open text.
“How do we know this one’s telling the truth?” Willow asked, abandoning her lunch and moving to read over the watcher's shoulder.
“We don’t,” he conceded with a tired sigh. “However, if you will allow me to explain the description, you will understand my concern.”
“Okay Giles, let’s hear it,” Buffy prompted impatiently. Her mind was racing. Giles had sent Spike to the temple based on this misinformation. God, what if? No, don’t panic yet. Just listen to what Giles has to say.
“According to this book, the temple holds the weapon of the Slayer, and it is for the Slayer to retrieve it.”
“What?” Willow broke in with a horrified gasp. “They expect a Slayer to torture someone to death?”
“Not exactly,” Giles continued. “The soul gifted to the seal is the soul of the Slayer herself, given willingly in exchange for entrance.”
Buffy shook her head disbelievingly. “No slayer would give up her soul,” she told him adamantly.
“Perhaps if the situation were dire enough…” Giles trailed off, letting the inference that the current situation fell into the "dire enough" category hang unspoken in the air.
“The slayer is required to give up her soul at the entrance to the temple. The trials that follow are to test the Slayer’s worthiness. Trial of skill, trial of strength and trial of heart. The trials test the resolve, courage and morality of the soulless slayer. Only after completing the trials will she be rewarded with the scythe and reunited with her soul.”
“Does it say what happens to the ‘unworthy?'” The tension in her voice was palpable, anger and fear just beneath the surface.
“Any who attempt to enter the temple without paying the proper price will be destroyed.” Giles watched her face harden and close up, defensive barriers slamming down around her emotions. “A soul taken by force ‘will be avenged, the evil act punished. A life for a life.’”
Her eyes seemed huge and scared, but she set her expression in stone as she asked, “So he’s dead?”
Giles nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Buffy.” He touched her shoulder, looking to comfort her, but she stepped back, her face a schooled into a mask of indifference.
“I have to train the girls.” With that she was gone, leaving him alone with the worried redhead in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.
…………………
“So how come you let me in?” Spike asked as they approached a heavy wooden door, dark and incongruous at the end of the bright corridor. “Pretty sure I fall into the ‘unworthy’ category.”
She frowned at him, but her lips quirked in amusement, “And why on earth do you think you would be unworthy?” she asked, her hand coming up to brush his cheek with almost maternal care. She reminded him of Anne, his own gentle mother, with just a pinch of Joyce’s sass. “A pure soul freely given, a brave spirit to face the challenges, and a strong heart. The test was set and you passed, it is not for me or any other now to deny you your prize.”
She pushed open the door and gestured for him to enter, following him in and standing at his shoulder. “It is beautiful, is it not?”
All he could do was nod. It was beautiful, in the way a lioness is beautiful, or an eagle. Beautiful and deadly all at once, like Buffy. Its axe blade glinted silver against its crimson handle; a polished wooden stake formed the other end. It was beautiful in its ruthless efficiency: not for the weapon of the chosen jewels and precious metal, just a razor-sharp blade and a hardwood point, everything a slayer needed to execute her calling.
“It is yours now,” the guardian told him, and he tore his gaze away from the scythe to meet her eyes. She was smiling again, the amused enigmatic smile of one who knows much more than she could possibly know. “Although I have a suspicion it is still for her to wield.” She smiled again and stepped forward to retrieve the prize, presenting it to him laid across her upturned palms. He took it with almost reverent care, feeling its perfect balance, its vibrating power.
“Now,” she continued, her tone businesslike, “all that is left to discuss is the matter of your soul.”
……………………..
“Buffy.” Willow found the slayer sharpening a cruel looking sword on the back porch, her eyes focused on her work, her face an impassive mask. She looked up and met the redhead’s worried gaze with flinty eyes.
“What’s up, Wills?” she asked, her voice too carefully toneless to be believed.
“Buffy, are you okay?” Willow asked, her worried eyes searching the slayer's face for any tiny glimmer of emotion. “I mean, about Spike.” Was that a flash of pain in her friend's emerald eyes? If so, it was gone too fast to be sure.
“I’m fine,” was the curt reply. Buffy returned to her work, studiously avoiding Willow's questioning gaze.
“Buffy, please.” The witch’s voice was plaintive, her eyes pleading. “You can talk to me, Buffy. I know how upset you must be, if you…”
“You don’t know anything.” Buffy’s cold voice cut her off. “You hated him just like everybody else. He’s gone. One less thing for you all to worry about, right? Just don’t pretend to give a damn.”
“Buffy, I do. Give a damn, I mean.” Buffy’s hard look told her she wasn’t nearly as convincing as she’d hoped to be. “I mean, yeah, we were all kinda nervous, you know, with the First controlling him. And we didn’t exactly trust him, but then how could we after what he tried to do to you?”
“Don’t.” Buffy stood up abruptly, the sword carelessly discarded on the wooden steps. “Don’t talk about what you can’t understand.”
“Buffy,” Willow tried again. “I want to understand, but you won’t talk to me. I’m your best friend. You could have talked to me about it. I would have…” she trailed off.
“Would have what?” Buffy asked, regarding her friend with cold eyes, “Magicked him dead?” she sneered, letting the words come out like an accusation.
“No,” Willow shook her head, and retreated into the house, hurt and defeated.
Buffy flopped down on the step beside her half sharpened blade and buried her head in her hands. She hadn’t meant to hurt Willow, hadn’t meant to lash out so cruelly, but she couldn’t talk to her about this, couldn’t talk to any of them. She’d been right, they hated him, hated what he stood for, what he’d done. Hated him as she probably should have hated him.
“I give a damn.” Dawn’s soft voice sounded from behind her. Had she heard everything? Had she been listening to the painful exchange from the shadowed recesses of the darkened porch?
Dawn came and sat beside her, long gangly legs folded beneath her. “If you wanna talk, I give a damn.”
“Don’t swear, Dawnie,” Buffy chided half-heartedly, lifting her tear-filled eyes to meet her sister’s understanding gaze.
Dawn rolled her eyes and gave her a sad half smile. “I wish I’d talked to him,” she began, trying to prompt her sister by her own confession. “I was so angry with him. So angry that he’d hurt you, that he’d broken his promise.” She lowered her head and looked at her sister through her lashes. “Angry that he left, angry that he dared to come back.” She sighed and leaned her head on her Buffy’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of strong slim arms coming up to offer her comfort even though she had come here with the intention of giving that comfort. “I just wish I’d been a little less angry, just enough to talk to him.”
She felt Buffy nod her understanding against her hair and heard her breath hitch with tears. Buffy wouldn’t talk to her tonight, but maybe a good cry would do just as well.
……………………….
“He’s not in hell then?” Spike asked incredulously.
“No,” she smiled knowingly at him. “That was just a little more misinformation.” Another amused glimmer. “We have to keep the unworthy away, after all.”
He laughed, a soft genuine laugh that made her smile indulgently at him. “So where is he?”
“He is waiting.” She gave a sage nod. “Waiting to be reunited with you. Do you think that we would condemn a slayer's soul to hell?”
“I’d hope not, for hell’s sake. A slayer’d cause havoc down there.” His lips turned up at the thought of Buffy’s soul giving Lucifer a righteous beating.
“The powers worry,” she confided. “They worry that a slayer who has not herself faced the trials will be gifted the power of the scythe. But it think,” she paused, and regarded him with soft eyes, “I think your sacrifice is a far greater commendation. She is lucky, I think. This slayer.”
He felt his good mood evaporate, leaving self-loathing burning like acid in his mind. “Not so much,” he told her with a bitter shake of his head. “So,” he said, changing the subject before she had a chance question him, “we stuff old Willy back in and I go on my merry way?”
“If you wish.” She tilted her head, her eyes suddenly gravely serious. “Or we can let him pass.”
“Pass?” Spike questioned suspiciously. “What, like on to heaven?”
“To wherever it is fitting for him to pass.”
He looked down for a moment, turning the possibility over in his mind. Finally he made his decision and met her gaze. “Let him go,” he told her, “William was a poofter but he was a good bloke, loved his mum and all. Don’t reckon he deserves to spend eternity paying for my sins.”
She smiled, her approval of his decision obvious. “Very well, now you may return.” She stepped forward and cupped his cheek, leaning up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “And I think she is lucky, this slayer of yours.”
White light engulfed him and he felt himself falling, then he hit the ground. Hard. “Bloody women!”
……………………….
A/N Thank you all so much for your reviews, it means a lot especially after the chapter being a piggy to write. I really hope that this chapter doesn't come over as a cop out by making the choice an illusion. The point was you make the choice to proove yourself but it isn't real.
Thanks Caroline, I wanted Spike to prove himself, I think he really has.
Hey Cali glad you liked Buffy's fantasy, I just felt like adding something sweet. Yeah poor Buffy, for once she can't be action girl.
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