“You have to say ‘yes’ to the next thing I ask from you.”
“Spike, if this is anything like that time you brought that succubus demon over for your birthday and recommended that we ‘broaden our horizons as a couple’…”
“And that would have been a really good time for all concerned, I’m bloody well certain,” Spike grumbled. “But, no, nothing like that.”
Buffy still looked uncertain as she slowly brought the flask to her lips and took a slower, steadier pull from it, careful not to take as much as she had last time. Her eyes were closed as she tilted her head back.
When she opened them again, Spike was holding a plain gold ring, with three diamond chips in the center, before her eyes.
This time, Spike was prepared for the spew of alcohol and spit.
Hurriedly, Buffy wiped at her mouth and looked at Spike.
“What the hell is this?” she asked.
“Well, let’s take stock of the situation.” Spike said calmly. “That is lost wager.” He gestured to table, now saturated in two coats of Slayer drool and whiskey. “This is an engagement ring.” He said, holding up the ring.
“And you… are my fiancéé.”
“Ummm… buh?” was all Buffy could think to say.
“Well, that was the bet, or a ‘gentleman’s wager’ if you prefer; you have to say yes to my next request. And I want you to marry me.”
“What ? Are you under a magic spell again?” she asked incredulously. “Did Willow get cranky again and get you feeling all ‘wind beneath my wings’ again?”
“No! I just, well, I love you, and someone told me about ‘loving without fear’, so... will you marry me?”
Buffy looked at the ring, then at Spike, and back at the ring.
And then she burst out laughing, grabbed his head, and dragged him to the floor, kissing his face and mouth fiercely.
Spike tumbled out of the chair in a heap.
“Bloody hell!”
“You…” Buffy said between kisses, “…are a bad rude man!” she said laughing.
“Yeah, I’ve heard, but does that mean you’re going to rip my head off and eat it? Because you seem to be working things that way!”
“Don’t be silly. I need you to be alive long enough to become my husband.”
“So, does that mean…?”
“It means, yes, William. Yes, I will marry you.”
There was a confused period involving laughter and whooping, and maybe even a little crying, from one or possibly both of them. They both seemed truly happy.
“We have to tell the others!” Buffy grinned.
“We’ll tell them tomorrow; right now, just go get some sleep. You need to rest up for the honeymoon.”
Buffy laughed. “Spike, I don’t plan on getting married tomorrow!”
“I plan on it being a very energetic honeymoon.”
Buffy squealed with delight and left the room, grinning widely.
Spike smiled slightly at her antics, then, after she had gone, he turned to address the doorway.
“Too little, too late… mate.”
Angel emerged from the shadows then, his game face in place.
“You don’t know how she likes her coffee. I do,” he said in an accusatory tone.
Spike leisurely got off the seat and turned to face his grandsire.
“What can I say? I saw the coffee there and decided to make the most of it. Had a nice heart to heart planned, did you?”
“You’re a bastard, Spike.”
“Perhaps, but this time I’ve got the girl, mate. For keeps.”
“This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been able to liberate something that didn’t belong to you.”
Spiked shrugged and, as he did, his own game face emerged.
“You owe me, mate. And you owe, Dru. And you owe, Emily.”
Angel snarled as Spike mentioned that last name.
Spike continued. “And you owe the ghosts of several Slayers.”
“You don’t love her!” Angel snarled.
“Oh, I do, mate. I truly, truly do. In fact, there’s only one thing I love as much.” Spike leaned in close. “Watching you suffer.”
Angel lunged at Spike then, but the blonde backed out of the way and Angel toppled over the table, sending the whole thing crashing to the floor. Spike laughed as Angel got to his feet.
“You should never trust a snoring vampire, Angel,” Spike taunted. “We don’t breathe, remember?”
Angel’s face slid back into human form in shock.
“You heard-?”
“-Every word between you and DeGanon, yeah! And I knew you’d hesitate. And I knew I wouldn’t.” Spike grinned as his own face shifted back to normal. “And I didn’t. And now she’s mine. And you, you’re left with absolutely everything you deserve - nothing.”
Spike turned and strode away from the makeshift kitchen.
“I’m going to kill you, Spike,” the other vampire vowed.
“Win-win for me, mate. We fight, you lose, and you die. We fight, I die, and then Buffy kills you for murdering her husband.”
The English vampire grinned. “I win, you evil son of a bitch.”
Angel growled and lashed out with a fist. Spike caught his arm, twisted it, and broke it with a snap!. Angel groaned in pain as Spike twisted his arm behind his back, bringing his teeth close to the older man’s ear.
“And this time, it’s your turn to be pushed aside.”
With a shove, Spike sent his grandsire tumbling to the floor.
Angel slowly got to his feet as Spike left the room; he could still hear the blond vampire’s laughter echoing in his ears. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget it.
Ever.
Xander tucked the blanket under Willow’s chin. She smiled prettily up at him.
“Snug?” he asked.
“Not as snug as that old He-Man comforter we used to snuggle under when we were kids. Do you remember that?”
Xander blushed and shot Anya a look, but she appeared to be distracted and didn’t say anything. The ex-demon could be a little touchy about his childhood fraternizations.
“Ah, yes, good times. The smell of stale Doritos and root beer,” he quipped.
“Yeah, Doritos rock,” Willow agreed with a laugh.
“How are you feeling?”
Willow brought her arms up from out the blankets and reached towards Xander.
“Braaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiinnnnnssss…..” she moaned zombie like.
“Yipes!” Xander exclaimed and drew back.
The Wiccan chuckled to herself as she settled back against the blankets.
“So, are we okay?” Willow asked.
“Do you promise not to die anymore?” Xander said quietly.
“Deal.”
Xander sighed resignedly and counted off his fingers.
“My Slayer friend is dating a vampire, I’m dating an ex-demon…” He turned a wry glance to the redhead. “…but you, you’ve dated a werewolf, a half-demon, and a girl!” he exclaimed with a grin. “You! You used to be the shy bookworm, what happened?”
The pair stared at each other for a moment.
“Buffy!” They both exclaimed at the same time with a laugh.
Xander got to his feet, squeezing Willow’s hand.
“Okay, Wills, you get some rest.” He turned to Anya. “Come on, baby.”
“Huh?” Anya turned and looked up at him, like he was from another planet. “What?”
“You. Me. Taking care of Willow, now wishing her a good night and going to bed.”
“Oh, yes,” Turning to the other woman, Anya said with certainty. “Willow, may your pain be minimal. I hope you die painlessly should your wounds fester.”
“Uhhh…… thanks?” Willow said confusedly.
Xander just rolled his eyes and led Anya away, closing the door to Willow’s room, shrouding it in darkness.
For a while, the Wiccan just stared into the dark. She silently wished she’d asked Xander to light a candle, it’s unbelievable how dark it can really get underground. She shivered slightly, remembering the time she was locked in Xander’s basement by accident when she was a kid.
Her breath sounded loud in her ears and the steady thudding of her heart was almost deafening. She was cold, very cold, and she didn’t understand why. She hadn’t been a few moments ago.
And then, with mounting fear, she listened to hear heartbeat begin to slow.
Thump thump! Thump thump!
Willow swallowed, but her throat was dry. She began to pant and she could see her breath steaming in the cold air.
Thump thump…………thump……thump…
She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, anything. She opened her mouth.
“…ah,” she whimpered.
……thump.
Her heart had stopped, her breath was frozen in her lungs; there was no sound. And she was certain she was no longer alone, certain that there was something else now in the room with her.
That the darkness was looking back at her.
Like a broken puppet, a pale form emerged jerkily from the shadows. Its body writhed and contorted. It was naked and female; it walked on broken feet that folded underneath pale legs and its fingers clawed at the hair. Its head thrashed from side to side in spasms and convulsions. Her hair was matted and stuck to its face.
Willow was frightened past her ability to comprehend. She couldn’t move as the naked form walked right up to her bed, thrashing and twitching.
And then... Willow saw her face.
“Tara?” she choked out.
The girl looked at Willow curiously, her head tilted back and forth, peering at her, and, in some detached part of Willow’s mind, she was reminded of the way a crow peers at road kill.
Then the girl opened her mouth and, with a low gurgling wail, lunged.
Alec yawned and stretched his arms, feeling exceptionally well rested. He sat up in bed, flexing his arm, which was still tingling from the jolt he got in the gem room, and rose smoothly to his feet, holding his hands up over his head and arching his back, stretching and sighing loudly. Looking around, he padded out of the room in his socks.
He peered into some of the other rooms.
Faith was out like a light, her cot right next to Angel’s who wasn’t around.
Buffy and Dawn were snoozing together on Dawn’s sleeping bag. Alec smiled slightly. The sisters really did need to come together.
Spike was dozing in a chair, a half-empty bottle of tequila on the table next to him.
Alec shook his head, chuckling ruefully. Some people never learn.
Walking over to the bottle, he took a long swallow and set it down, swishing the alcohol around in his mouth, letting the bitter taste help banish the last vestiges of drowsiness from his brain. Spying a light from the other room, he padded over and gently pushed the door open.
Giles was pouring over a book, studying the Everstone intently. Hearing the door creak, he looked up.
“Oh, hello son,” he smiled warmly at Alec, taking his glasses off. “How are you feeling?”
Alec nodded in greeting, sitting down next to his father.
“Better,” he replied, rubbing his arm gently. “Arm’s still a little sore,” he gestured to the gem, “bloody thing gave me quite a jolt,” he quipped.
Giles smiled and gestured at his hand. “And the ring?”
Alec looked down and frowned; sure enough, on his left index finger rested a silver ring. It was designed to twist in on itself like a Möbius strip and cradled in the center was an elaborately cut gemstone whose facets glinted both black and white.
“Why? WHY does stuff keep randomly appearing out of or on my body?” Alec lamented.
Giles shook his head.
“I have no idea. Perhaps it has something to do with your heritage. Being brought into existence in the demon realm, where the laws of reality are immutable, may have imparted some of that chaos into your being, leaving you more susceptible to change and transformation, like the fae of old.”
“Great, I’m destined to be Oberon of Arcadia.”
Giles chuckled. “There are worse fates than being faerie royalty, I imagine.”
“Still, between manifesting weapons and now jewelry, I’m starting to feel like I’m leasing my body instead of owning it.”
“Do you know anything about the ring?”
“Not a bloody thing. Only that the Everstone is supposed to help me ‘maintain balance’.” Alec scrutinized his new ring. “I imagine that this small jewel is a shard of the stone, or maybe a replicate. Speaking of,” he gestured at the stone, “what’s the story with that thing?”
“Yes, well, it’s truly fascinating. Buffy told me how you figured out the correct procedure in order to facilitate its creation.” He beamed proudly at his son. “I must say, Alec, good show.” He patted his son’s shoulder approvingly.
Alec waved it away. “Thank you, I had help,” he replied. He craned his neck to peer back into a room. “How’s Buffy?” he asked.
Giles frowned.
“Well, were she a normal girl, the injury to her knee and back would be crippling. Fortunately, it turns out that the kneecap was only fractured, not broken. Her recuperative powers as a Slayer, and DeGanon’s gypsy magic, have thus far helped accelerate her recovery. Still, between that and the shoulder wound, she’s going to have to take some downtime,” he informed him.
Alec snorted. “Bet she was jubilant to hear that,” he observed wryly.
Giles snorted identically, his face mirroring his son’s. “Between a cracked kneecap and back, plus an impaled shoulder, you’d think she’d be more sensible about things.” He sighed, exasperated.
“She seems very driven,” Alec noted, grinning. “Wonder whom she picked that up from?”
Giles blushed.
“Yes, well, be that as it may, she’s going to have to rest for a while. I’m debating whether or not to leave her and Angel at the Grigori Estate with Marlena for some downtime.”
Alec frowned. “Angel still not up to snuff?” he asked.
Giles shook his head. “Whatever spell Angel was subjected to, its effects were extremely debilitating. It’s going to take some time for him to recover.”
“I didn’t think Marlena would allow vampires onto the Estate grounds,” Alec commented.
“She also said she wasn’t going to help us fight off DeGanon’s forces when they attacked,” Giles replied evenly.
Alec bit his tongue in amusement. “Touché.”
He chuckled, looking around. “Looks like everyone’s asleep. How long have I been out?” he asked.
Giles frowned at his watch.
“Well, you really should be asleep as well, Alec, you’ve only been asleep for an hour or so,” he informed him.
Alec’s eyes widened.
“What?” he exclaimed, “Are you sure?”
Giles nodded. “Quite sure, son, why?”
Alec shook his head.
“I just feel very well-rested, like I’ve been asleep for twenty hours or something,” he replied.
Giles frowned.
“Do you believe that this… recuperation has to do with your demonic essence?” he asked.
Alec nodded.
“Well, yeah, must be, except… I’ve always been able to sleep in before.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Anyhow, it’s not a big deal.” He got to his feet. “I’m going to go check on Willow.”
Giles nodded.
“Yes, I heard the poor girl went through quite an ordeal.” He frowned. “Buffy actually coerced a vampire to raise her from the dead?” he asked amazed.
Alec nodded.
“Yeah, I’d show you the spell, except the spell book was vaporized after the spell was cast. Pretty impressive show though,” he commented.
Giles shook his head in amazement.
“Buffy’s never shown an aptitude for sorcery before,” Giles pursed his lips in thought.
“Buffy’s never had a dear friend laying cold on the slab either,” Alec commented grimly.
Giles smirked. “Touché, Alec,” he repeated his son’s earlier sentiment.
Suddenly, Buffy burst into the room, holding up her hand and displaying a gold and diamond ring.
“I’m marrying, Spike… and I’m not under a spell! Ahhhh!” she screamed with near hysterical glee before fleeing from the room.
Both men slowly turned to exchange looks.
“Oh, I’ve got to find out what this is all about,” Alec said with his trademark crooked grin as he bounded after his sister.
“Alec, wait!” Giles called out, but it was of no use. Alec had already left.
“First, assure me that I have not, in fact, gone back in time,” the Watcher lamented to the empty room.
He sat down with a heavy sigh, holding the stone up in his hand and peering at it.
“Oh, a wedding! Rupert, that’s lovely!” a voice called out.
Giles whirled to face Ethan Rayne, casually leaning against a wall, where he had not been just a moment ago.
“What are you doing here?” Giles demanded.
“At the moment, enjoying the look of shock and abject horror plastered all over your pristine Watcher gob,” Ethan retorted with a nasty grin as he sat down opposite the other man.
“Drink, Ethan?” Rupert said quietly.
“Why thank you, Ripper.”
Rupert reached down and lifted his satchel up from the ground. Putting it in his lap, he carefully removed a bottle of scotch.
“You’ll forgive me if I do my own pouring. I’d hate to turn into a demon again,” Giles said darkly.
“Are you still upset about that? Come, now… the Rupert I knew could appreciate a good joke.”
Giles poured the drinks and placed the bottle back in the bag, keeping the bag in his lap as he handed a glass to Ethan.
“Many happy returns,” the Watcher said quietly, raising the glass in toast.
“To the upcoming nuptials,” Ethan replied.
They clinked glasses and downed their drinks. Ethan beckoned and Giles poured another shot for them both.
“So, your Slayer is marrying a vampire?” Ethan inquired wryly.
“So it would appear,” Giles said calmly.
“Ha! Well, then, it’s good you’re no longer with the Watcher’s Council or you’d be a laughing stock.”
“Yes, because before all this I was the pinnacle of acclaim amongst my peers.”
“Point taken.”
“So, how did you find me?” Giles asked quietly.
Ethan laughed.
“Oh, come, now, Rupert. With you back in the Order; you’re back on the radar. I can find you anywhere now.”
“How comforting. Do the Knights now occupy Sunnydale?”
“A full compliment of the very best.”
“The bystanders?”
“Blissfully unaware of them, as always. Though I imagine a few of them have noticed how much safer it seems to be getting on the streets at night.”
“And the enemy?”
Ethan flashed a feral grin.
“The Knights have encouraged the opposition to behave themselves in the Slayer’s absence and to not see it as a holiday.”
“Yes, well, flaming swords can be very encouraging.”
“You would know, Ripper,” Ethan said, his voice taking on an edge.
The other man shot him a cold look.
“So, how’s life treating you?” the chaos worshipper asked, changing both tone and subject.
“Uncomfortably,” the ex-Watcher replied.
He began to recount the events of the last few weeks; by the time the story was told, the bottle was near empty and both men were near falling out of their seats.
“That’s a hell of a tale, Ripper!” Ethan said with a crooked grin.
“I do try,” Giles admitted.
“So, what are your plans now?”
Giles sent his former friend an askance look.
“Yes, because I am exactly stupid enough to tell you that.”
Ethan grinned like a fox. “You don’t trust me?”
“I’d sooner slit my own throat with a barber’s razor.”
Ethan looked aghast.
“Rupert, I’m hurt! I’m your friend! You should trust me to be willing to do that for you!”
“I’m touched.”
“You should be. Perhaps that could be my wedding present to you to celebrate the upcoming nuptials. It must be more pleasant than serving as de facto father in law to William the Bloody.”
“I’m having difficulty arguing your logic, and yet, I fear the bride would not appreciate it. To say nothing of my son.”
“Ah, yes, the kids. I’d ask how they’re doing, but you’ve summed it up nicely over the last few rounds,” he said with a sickly grin as he gestured to the empty bottle.
“Well, don’t get your knickers in a twist, I have another bottle here,” Rupert assured his friend.
“Well done, old man,” Ethan leered at him. “The guest drinks first, of course?” he insisted politely, holding his empty glass up between their faces.
“Of course,” Giles assured the man as he removed a second bottle from the satchel and began to fill Ethan’s glass.
“Now, let’s see... For a wedding, we need ‘something old’…” Ethan paused for thought and guffawed, “well, you can qualify for that. ‘Something new’… I imagine a vampire marrying a Slayer is a new trick indeed.”
“Not as new as you’d think,” Giles said pleasantly as he continued to fill the other man’s glass with scotch.
Meanwhile, Ethan carried on as if he hadn’t heard Giles’ words… or how his old friend managed to sound very sober, very suddenly.
“And, let’s see here, ‘something borrowed’… Well, I’m sure I could wire ol’ Constantine in London. He was always good at ‘borrowing’ - their money, their women, their flats. Although, given who the bride is, I’d have to say that you’ve got ‘borrowed’ covered in a way no one else could even hope to match!” he laughed.
Giles just continued to nod and pour.
“You know what I can’t figure out, Giles?”
“What’s that, Ethan?”
“How… how you managed to keep it a secret all this time. I mean, to tell you the truth, I don’t know whose lineage is more interesting around here - your “son’s” or hers -“
It was at that moment that Ethan noticed that his glass was overfull and spilling all over the place.
“Steady on!” Ethan cried out, backing away and flailing.
It was then that Giles removed Lily from the satchel on his lap, brought it up and over the table, aimed once, and fired.
The bullet shattered the glass, spraying whiskey all over the table, and then blasted through Ethan’s head, entering and exiting in a splash of blood and bone.
Ethan looked puzzled for a moment and actually took a moment to turn his broken glass over in his hand and stare at it, puzzled.
“Split my bloody drink.”
With that the chaos worshipper toppled to the floor in a gory heap.
Giles casually stood over Ethan and fired two more rounds into his head. The body twitched twice and lay still.
“You always did talk too bloody much, Ethan,” Giles commented darkly as he put the gun on the table.
The bottle of scotch had been knocked off the table and was spilling its contents onto the floor in a steady trickle. Giles bent over, picked it up, and brought it to his lips, taking a long steady pull from it, and put it down on the table.
When he turned around, Ethan was sitting up.
“Well, that hurt my feelings, Rupert! Was it something I said?” Ethan gurgled through his shattered face.
Giles sighed, his mind already telling him what his eyes were seeing.
“Simulacrum.”
“Well, I know what your temper can be like, Ripper, especially when it comes to your wards. And with you packing Lily again, why, there’s no telling what kind of foolishness you’ll indulge in! So, it seemed safer to send one of my stable of meat puppets.”
“Get out!” was all Giles said.
Ethan laughed once more, then the body just went rag-doll limp and collapsed on the floor, dissolving into a puddle of waxy goo.
“Wanker,” Giles muttered to himself as he took another drink and sighed.
“Did you hear that, honey?” Xander frowned, jerking his head up.
He and Anya were in their room and sitting on opposite ends of the bed, their backs to each other as they prepared to settle down for the night.
“What’s that, dear?” Anya asked distractedly.
“Sounded like gunfire.”
“Oh. Yes. No. Whatever answer involves us not having to do anything about it.”
Xander turned to look at his lover. “Anya, you okay?”
“Yes, I’m all right. There’s just been too much fighting. And I would prefer to have more sex, now.”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait a bit on that, honey. I threw my arm out fighting the Khulghaani or something,” Xander lamented, rubbing his shoulder.
“Oh. Well, I could perhaps tie you up and torture you for a while, would you like that?”
“Uhhhhh…… no, and please stop getting bedroom advice from your demon friends. Remember what we say - ‘what happens in Hell…’ ”
“ ‘….stays in Hell’,” they finished in unison.
“That’s my girl,” Xander said with a grin as he reached down to untie his shoes.
Anya, meanwhile, reached over and pulled back the blankets… exposing the Dagger of Acathla on Xander’s pillow. She gasped, and hurriedly grabbed the knife, putting it under her own pillow. D’Hoffryn hadn’t been happy simply to make sure she got the weapon, he also had to make sure she got the message:
This is how close I can get to him.
Xander lifted his head. “D’ you say something, hon?”
Anya shook her head. “Nope, all is well. Come to bed and fall asleep now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As he stripped off his shirt, he rubbed at his shoulder again with a groan. There was a smattering of what felt like warts or acne there.
Great, I’m going through puberty again, he thought to himself grimly. Must have hurt it when Alec knocked me out of the way of Will’s spell.
“Wow, that hurts,” Xander groaned.
He went to the bathroom, dabbed at his back with a wet cloth, which he tossed into the hamper once he was done, and went to bed.
He was unconscious when the cloth began to smoke and rot.
Alec closed the door and turned back to Willow. Very carefully he walked over to her and pulled back the covers, entering the bed and laying next to his lover. He turned to face her, his hand gently stroking the lock of snowy white hair away from her face, the only outward mark that the woman had died.
Died.
He shook his head. No matter how much he thought about it, he still couldn’t get his mind around the concept that, for a brief time, this woman had been dead. Gone. No more. And he remembered the agony it had made him feel, how small and helpless and truly insignificant the experience had left him feeling. If he couldn’t protect Willow against those zombies… what about the next time? Or the time after that? Had he lost his ability to protect those he loved most? What about Buffy… or his father… or Dawn? That last thought, the thought of Dawn lying cold and lifeless somewhere, filled his body with such dread that he squeezed his eyes shut tight and shuddered.
“Tara!” Willow suddenly cried out.
Alec nearly jumped out of his skin as Willow sat up ramrod straight, shaking.
“Baby?!” Alec cried out.
Willow looked at him and, for a moment, it looked like she didn’t even recognize him. Then she fainted.
Alec caught her and cradled her in his arms.
“Willow? Willow, what’s wrong? Wills!” Alec insisted.
Willow’s eyes then opened slowly, drowsily, as if coming out of sleep.
“You okay?” she asked worriedly, looking at him with grave concern and seeming perfectly normal.
Alec frowned, thoroughly confused. Fortunately, it was at that point that his mind simply decided it had had enough and he just didn’t want to get into it right now.
Instead he just shook his head.
“Not even remotely,” he confessed. Reaching out, he stroked her face. “I’m trying to get over the fact that you died… and that I couldn’t stop it. And it’s killing me,” he finished softly.
Willow’s eyes ached with sympathy. Turning her head, she kissed his hand.
“You fought as hard as you could. You did everything you could. The only way they got past you is by threatening Buffy and Angel. They’re bad guys, they cheated,” she reasoned, pouting her lip and trying to cheer him up.
Alec shook his head angrily.
“But what happens next time when the bad guys cheat? I mean, if I can’t protect the people I love, what good am I?” he demanded bitterly.
Willow’s tone got stern.
“No talk like that, mister,” she admonished. “I mean, you fight as hard as Buffy and it’s not even your sacred duty or anything. You do it because you see that it’s a good fight that needs fighting.” She gently pushed him over onto his back and rolled atop him, peering into his eyes. “Your father is proud of you; so is Buffy, and so am I,” she whispered.
Alec sighed and looked away.
“What happens when one of you winds up dead because I couldn’t do anything about it? Buffy and Faith keep talking about all this power I have, how cool it is,” he looked back up at Willow, “but I couldn’t even save you,” he whispered.
Willow sighed and gently nuzzled his face.
“But you did. You, and Buffy, and Angel, you brought me back,” she whispered.
Alec snorted. “BUFFY brought you back,” he replied.
Willow shook her head.
“No,” she whispered softly, her voice full of love. “Buffy got my attention, but who do you think it is I was focusing on when I came back?” She looked into his eyes. “You’re the reason I came back, Alec, not Buffy or anyone else. You. I love you, Alec, I love you so much, and I couldn’t die and leave you all alone,” she whispered.
Alec closed his eyes and sighed hard, the tension in his face draining away.
Willow smiled and kissed him gently before reclining back against him.
“Now, there’s something I want to do, and if I hear one peep of protest from you, you’re going to get hurt,” she threatened.
Alec opened his eyes… which promptly widened as Willow reached down and stripped off her t-shirt, leaving her top completely bare. Taking his hands gently, she placed them over her heart.
“You brought me back from the dead, Alec, now I want to feel alive,” she whispered fiercely.
Bringing her mouth down she captured his lips in a passionate kiss.
Her intensity, her hunger, overwhelmed Alec momentarily. She clawed at him, almost in a frenzy, her nails sharp on his flesh, and her skin cold.
“Your skin’s like ice!” Alec cried.
Willow purred lasciviously.
“Then warm me….”
Unsurprisingly, there were no sounds of protest. Not even a peep.
Alec was fighting Mercurio’s minions. His face was contorted with rage as he lashed out again and again with darkness tendrils, fighting desperately against the shambling hordes.
“Come on, you rotting bastards! Come on!” he snarled.
Lashing out with feet, fists, anything he killed and kept killed. He could feel Willow behind him, trembling with fear as the walking corpses reached towards them with cold clammy hands. Alec snarled and struck again and again at the unending tide of undead. He saw Faith and Buffy, Anya and Willow, and everyone else engaged in battle.
“Alec!”
He whirled around to see Willow being dragged away from him by the zombies, to see Dawn torn apart by the living dead.
“No!” he roared, struggling against the onslaught of hands pressing into him, dragging him down into stinking blackness.
“Noooooo!” he screamed…
…and sat up ramrod straight in bed. His left hand exploded into hooks and blades, starting from his elbow and going all the way out to almost a foot beyond what should have been his arm.
He detected a shape before him looming in the dark. Still in the clutches of the nightmare, he didn’t hesitate. He roared a sound full of hatred and fury, and stabbed. He felt the blade pierce something solid and there was a gasp.
Panting, he grabbed his lighter with his free hand and flicked it on. The room flickered in dim light.
Then he saw.
Then he knew.
“No…” he whispered. “No…”
He knew the person before him, trembling. A red stain was spreading through her shirt where it had been transfixed by his blade. He knew her face as well as he knew his own.
“Alec…” she gasped quietly.
He knew her… and he loved her.
A small gust of air, like a cold breath, blew the lighter out and the darkness swallowed them up.
There, in the darkness, Alec Giles began to scream.