Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N: This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

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*crash*

Glass flew around her head as she tumbled backwards through the window of the small boathouse, and into the cool night air. Pulling her arms in tight to her body, she hit the soft sand of the beach with her shoulder and rolled a few feet until she came to a stop. Quickly she pushed herself back to her feet and raced after the dark figure dashing awkwardly across the deep soft sand. Behind her she could hear the thuds and crashes of the fight continuing within the boathouse but she paid it little attention, her mind focused on the quarry before her.

She chased it over the top of a large dune, slipping and sliding her way down. Silently she cursed him for making her chase him, her new jean shorts were now covered in sand and her brand new sandals lost to her need for traction. But the sand had slowed him down too, and with a final leap she was on him, pulling him kicking to the ground. With a kick to her stomach he flung her off of him and she tumbled through the sand, her hair falling out of the loose braid she had had it pulled back in. Slowly she got to her feet, grabbing a sharp broken piece of driftwood. She ran a hand through her messed up hair and spit out a mouth full of sand.

“You are so going to pay for that one,” she glared at him.
He growled, the moonlight reflecting of his pale skin and pointed teeth.
“You guys can’t even let me enjoy a nice romantic evening, can you?” she leapt forward hitting him square in the chest with her right foot.

The kick knocked him onto his back and within seconds she was on top of him, pinning him beneath her knees. “Don’t mess with a girl’s vacation!” She plunged the piece of wood into his heart and watch as he dusted away beneath her. “Damn vamp,” she muttered to herself. Sighing she closed her eyes, stretched her arms above her head, and arched her back slightly stretching. Her heart was still racing with adrenaline as she got to her feet and started back up the dune, picking up her sandals on the way.

Just as she got to the top another vampire appeared before her with a growl ready to pounce. But before it could lunge at her or she could react she felt arms enfold her and she was rolling down the side of the dune again. She clung desperately to the body that held her, completely unable to tell which side was up. All she could hear was the waves of the ocean getting closer and closer, sand flying up all around her. However the thick mounds of sand slowed her rolling and eventually she found herself on her back staring up into two bright blue eyes.

“Spike, what the..?” but she was interrupted by the growl of the vampire racing towards them. She tensed her body beneath his, her hand reaching for the piece of driftwood she had used only moments earlier, but Spike reached it first and threw it. The vampire dusted a few feet away throwing a slight rain of dust down on them.

They lay there for a few seconds, his body pressing hers into the sand, both staring at the spot where the vampire had just been. Then turning to look at each other they both broke into huge smiles and started laughing. When their laughter finally died away he stared down at her, gently pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “They messed up your hair.”

“Well, I made him pay for it,” she smiled back. “What is it with vampires attacking people on dates anyway?”

“All the sexual tension in the air, hormones racing through their veins, sweetens the blood, gives it that something extra. Haven’t you seen any of those teen monster movies? You can smell lust like that a mile away.”

“Have I told you recently you vamps are just gross sometimes?”

“You vamps?” his voice feigning hurt, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly

She rolled her eyes at him and just sighed. “They ruined our dinner.”

“Wasn’t that hungry anyway,” he twirled the loose piece of her hair around his finger.

“Of course you weren’t hungry; all you need is that pint of blood, but me, I was looking forward to that dinner. Smelled so good.” She muttered, pouting up at him.

“Can’t have you being hungry, now can we, luv?” He ran his other hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and leaned her head into his touch. “Guess we’ll just have to feed that hunger another way then,” he leaned down and captured her pouting lower lip with his own lips. She kissed him back, gently at first, her arms coming up over his shoulders. Their kiss deepened and he pressed her deeper into the sand. His hand ran up the length of her body and he moved his lips down along her neck tracing its curve down to her shoulders. She smiled with pleasure, running her hands through his hair, as he gently undid the ties to her bathing suit top. Closing her eyes she turned all her attention to him and let go, rolling him onto his back.

She woke a few hours later feeling refreshed yet lazy. The sand was warm beneath her back and she stretched out her bare legs feeling hot air warming her still tingling skin. Blinking she slowly opened her eyes and took in the radiantly beautiful sun-kissed morning. Sun-kissed! Her eyes sprung open and she rolled up onto her side. She was naked, draped in Spike’s leather coat but he was nowhere to be seen. Holding the jacket around her she reached for her shorts and bathing suit top, which lay near by.

“Spike?” she called warmly, trying to keep the fear out of her voice, as she pulled on her clothes. “Spike!”

But there was no answer. She got to her feet and shading her eyes with her hand looked up and down the beach but there was no sign of him or any safe shady place that he could take refuge in for that matter. The sun beat down on her and she called his name again, but still no answer. Her heart started beating faster now. Where could he be?

Ring around the rosy,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes, ashes we all fall down.

The faint sound of children singing made her pause. What the hell was going on? Again the faint melody of the song floated past her ears. She shivered in the growing heat, beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead. Something about the song made her blood run cold, yet the sun seemed to be raging now, the heat almost took her breath away. She needed to find Spike and fast. As she reached down to pick up his coat, preparing to head back to the boathouse, she noticed a short man dressed in dark clothes standing nearby.

“He’s not there.” The man lit a cigarette, pulling his hat lower over his eyes.

She eyed him as best she could in the nearly-blinding sunlight. There was something oddly familiar about him. His slender fingers, the hat, the tone of his voice; yes, she definitely knew him from somewhere but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly where. He casually stared back at her. His mere presence began to irritate her. Who the hell did he think he was, staring at her like that, acting as if he knew everything? She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “So where is he?” she squinted back at him not even attempting to hide the irritation from her voice.

“Right where he’s always been; right by your side.” He stared back at her, his eyes completely empty. “The end is coming. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

A chill ran up her spine. Slowly, she glanced down at the jacket that was still in her hand. Gently she began to lift it from the beach, her heart pounding in her chest. Slowly, ever so slowly the lower tails of the coat lifted from the sand, leaving a pile of ash and dust beneath it.

Her heart seemed to stop. She couldn’t breathe nor tear her eyes from the neat gray pile of dust before her. She felt dizzy, waves of heat making the images before her dance and sway. She felt like she was burning alive. She reached out towards the ashes with her hands but stopped halfway to them. Her hands were covered in blood! The world around her, the sand beneath her all of it was turning a bright orange and red. She felt like she was burning. The voices of the singing children grew louder and louder and suddenly there was a high pitch scream, a young woman’s scream, the scream of one in absolute pain.

-----

“No!” Buffy sat up with a start, her heart pounding, her hands shaking.

“Buffy! Buffy, what is it?” Spike sat up beside her. Flicking on the bedside lamp he turned to her, his hands coming up and gently but firmly gripping her wrists. She was shaking and turning her head wildly around the room.

“Spike, no Spike,” she moaned, tears starting to rise up in her eyes.

“Easy, luv, easy. I’m right here, see I’m right here. Look at me, Buffy, look at me. It was just a dream.”

Hesitantly she turned to him, her hair falling across her face. With one hand he pushed it away so she could see his face clearly in the soft lamplight. For a moment she stared at him, then reality settled in and she fell forward against him.

“It was just a dream,” he whispered against the top of her head, one arm holding her the other hand stroking her damp hair.

She rested her cheek against his cool dead skin and silently took in the room. He was right. It had just been a dream. She was safe in their plush hotel room in the middle of France, far away from any beaches. And he was there, with her, flesh and bone and soul. The screaming had stopped. The eerie singing was fading slowly from her mind.

She continued to lean against him, her eyes carefully moving over each item in the room. Everything seemed to be in place. Her battered leather backpack sat on an overstuffed armchair, exactly where she had dropped it hours before. An empty bottle of wine sat in the middle of a chipping bronze colored ice bucket. A thin glistening line of water hinting at the now completely melted contents of the bucket had started to pool beneath the bucket on the tabletop. Spike’s coat and pants lay in a pile near the foot of the bed, along with some extra pillows. Yes, everything was how she had remembered it. She let out a deep breath. He was right. They were safe.

Her heart was no longer pounding when she pushed back from his chest and looked up at him. He stared down at her in silence for a few moments, his eyebrows furrowed together as he quietly watched her. Finally convinced she was all right, his face relaxed and he gently stroked her cheek with his hand. “Care to share it?”

She averted her gaze at his words, knowing full well he wasn’t going to take her dream seriously. But it had been serious and she should tell him. “We were back in Fiji.”

A playful smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. “That was a good trip.” His hand dropped from her cheek to her waist and he pulled her closer to him. His touch was warm and inviting.

She was suddenly very aware of his nakedness; the red cotton bed sheets were sitting precariously low on his hips. She swallowed hard and nodded. His eyes darkened a little at her reaction, as he began to realize just how much her dream was upsetting her. He gently released her from his hold and leaned back against the pillows, propping himself up on an elbow.

“The floor is yours, luv.”

She swallowed again. “It was a memory at first. Remember the night we found that little boathouse, and those two vampires attacked us?”

He nodded, the mischievous sparkle reappearing in his eyes. “I particularly remember what we did after we got rid of them. Got to say that was a first for me. You always know how to keep a fella on his toes, mix it up good for him.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Spike, can you forget the sex for two minutes?”

“Sorry, pet.”

“So yes, we staked the vampires and, well, you have already alluded to the rest. That all happened in the dream just as it did when we were there 2 months ago.”

“So what’s the big scary then? As I recall you thoroughly enjoyed our little vacation.” The smile was back. It looked at her and she looked at it. It was one of those times where she hated it more than she loved it.

“We fell asleep and when I woke up it was late morning. I panicked, but thankfully you were gone. I called out to you but you didn’t answer so I got dressed and was getting ready to head back to the boathouse, which is where I assumed you were. That’s when I heard the song.”

“What song?”

“You know the one little kids sing when the play Ring-around-the-Rosy? You know ‘Ring around the rosy. A pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes we all fall down.’ It was really faint but I swore I heard a whole group of children singing it, but I couldn’t see them anywhere. It was really creepy; Children of the Corn creepy. That’s when I noticed this guy standing there all in black smoking.”

“Guy in black?” Spike raised his eyebrows. His eyes darkened a little.

“Oh please tell me you aren’t going to get all teenage-angsty on me? It wasn’t Angel, ok. I’m not sure who he was…though…” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned slightly. “It’s just…I got the feeling I had met him before.” She stared off for a few seconds, nibbling her lower lip, her hands resting in her lap. Where had she seen that guy before? Who was he?

“Anyway, he tells me you aren’t in the boathouse. He really started to aggravate me to tell you the truth, all high and mighty, knowing everything. Then he tells me you’re right next to me; by my side.” Her voice began to falter a little. Why is this bothering me so much?

“He told me that the end is coming. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…that’s when I picked up your coat.” She swallowed hard. “You were a pile of dust in the sand.”

Her lower lip was starting to tremble again, but she continued on. “The singing came back and it was as if the world was on fire; I was on fire. And there was blood, blood on my hands. Then there was this scream.”

She could hear the scream echoing again in her mind and she slammed her eyes shut at the memory, willing it to disappear, to leave her. He leaned toward her then, encircling her with his arms and drawing her body back against his. His hands felt oddly warm through the fabric of his black t-shirt, which she had recently started to wear to bed. He molded his body against hers, his arms holding her tight.

“I’m not going down that easy,” he whispered into her hair.

“I know,” she whispered back.

“And as for the rest of it, most likely just the Chinese food we had earlier tonight. Probably asking for it really, I mean French Chinese food.”

She turned quickly to face him, her eyes hard. “It wasn’t just a dream, Spike. It wasn’t some bad egg rolls. You and Angel mud wrestling now that’s a dream, the children’s choir from hell and a guy I know I’ve met before warning me of some apocalypse, now that’s a vision.”

“Fine, fine it wasn’t a dream,” Spike put up his hands in surrender before wrapping them back around her and drawing her close again. “I believe you,” he kissed the back of her head. “So what’s the game plan?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. Suddenly she sat bolt upright again. “Angel!” She cried.

“What?” Spike pushed himself up to face her, irritation thick in his voice.

“The guy in my dream, I just remembered where I’ve met him. He paid me a visit the night Angel tried to awaken Acathla.” She frowned, “God he was irritating then too.” She shook her head, “He was some kind of immortal demon, but on the side of good. I was so preoccupied with stopping Angel I don’t remember much else about him.”

She nibbled at her lower lip for a few more seconds in silence. Finally her face lit up a little as she made her decision. “We need to get back to L.A. We need to find this demon and I think Angel is our best bet.”

Spike just stared back at her.

“Come on Spike,” she reached out to touch his face, to appease the blatant look of revulsion that had appeared at the idea of going back to LA.

“What?” He replied, slightly caustically. “So I’m not doing bloody cartwheels over going back there and dealing with Angel-boy again. You know I’ll go, but don’t expect me to be all streamers about it.”

She smiled at him. “I never would.” Leaning over she kissed him gently on the lips. “It’s a few more hours until sunset,” she yawned as she snuggled against him and pulled the sheets up around herself. “We can get plane tickets then and enjoy one more night in Paris.” Her voice was soft and heavy with sleep.

Sighing, Spike stared down at her for a few moments, watching her shoulders rise and fall as sleep over took her. He was wide-awake now. The thought of facing Angel again made the demon within him growl. How could he ever make her understand him and Angel? Her breathing became steady and the warmth of her back and thighs against his own body drove the darker thoughts from his mind. Of course he would endure the older vampire. He would endure him for her.

Wrapping his arms around her midsection he leaned back down onto the pillow beside her, the scent of her shampoo filling his nose with the gentle scent of vanilla and roses. How he loved the way she smelled, the way she felt in his arms, and the way her body so perfectly molded to his. Turning slightly he glanced at the clock over his shoulder. It was 4:30pm. The sun would be down by 7:30. Turning back to her he rested his forehead against the back of her head. He’d let her sleep for another hour or so, let her replace the horror of her vision with much sweeter dreams, and then he’d awaken her in a way he knew would make her forget all her worries. He smiled against her hair as he let his mind play over exactly how he’d wake her.

-----

Paris never seemed to sleep. If anything it seemed to come even more to life as the sun began to set. The dying rays of the sun echoed across the landscape, singing out their invitation to Paris’s twilight dwellers. Like moths to a flame it called to them, awaking them from their daylight slumber, calling them out to play among the dancing lights and shadows. Young and old, dead and living all heard its call. And so the masquerade began ever night, lovers and the lonely, dreamers and the broken all crowded into the Paris streets seeking out the endless waltz of night.

The moon was already at its zenith, burning brightly among a starless sky, by the time they stepped out into the crowded streets. All around them Paris’s children of the night played, laughed, and danced. They moved lazily in and out of the crowds, his cool finger tips deftly guiding her through the throngs. They enjoyed a small dinner and some wine outdoors at a corner café, and then rode the elevator up to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

The Tower was fairly crowded despite the late hour, but they found a quiet spot off to the side. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the top of the railing, her chin sitting between her hands as she stared down at the city below. Bathed in the silvery light of the moon she sighed contentedly. The cool evening breeze was refreshing to her still tingling skin. That had been one wake-up call she would not long forget.

“It’s all so simple from up here,” she breathed. She felt his arms encircle her waist as he stepped into her back. She straightened up and leaned back against his chest.

“It’s never really ever simple, luv. Just seems to be when death is your curse and your gift. Every last one of them down there, facing their own battles everyday. Each one full of fear, passion, lust, death; one big orgy of emotions and challenges life is. You may be alive but you’re never really among them down there. You live above them; you live knowing the full truth, forever living in limbo. ”

“Now there’s the poet,” she teased. “I was starting to wonder when he’d make an appearance. I mean considering this view alone, I was waiting for at least one effulgent.” With laughter in her voice and eyes she turned in his arms to face him.

“You know effulgent is a perfectly good word; rhymes very well,” he huffed, his hold on her stiffening. “Just you wait,” he went on leaning towards her, “You’ll see, just give it time; that word is going to make a comeback.”

“Yah maybe after another millennia or two,” she laughed no longer able to control herself. Her laughter was contagious and before he could stop himself he was laughing as hard as she was.

Somewhere far below church bells struck the hour. It was 2 am. The singsong of the bells brought a sad end to their laughter. It was almost time to go.

“We should probably head over to the airport. The flight’s at 4 and you need to be all set before the sun comes up.”

He nodded silently; then leaning forward kissed her deeply one last time beneath the Paris moon.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N: This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

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It was getting late, the fading sun still burning like a hot ember among a sea of ashen clouds. The gentle rocking of the plane as it cut its path through the burning twilight caused her to stir. Rubbing the last remnants of another dreamless sleep from her eyes, she yawned and stared at her watch. It was nearly 8:30pm; the flight was halfway over. She yawned again and stretched as best she could.

The cabin around her was fairly empty and nearly silent. A businessman sat to her right, three rows up the aisle, busily typing away on a laptop and sipping ice water from a plastic cup. Behind her an elderly couple were happily snoring away, their heads leaning awkwardly against one another’s. Three rows in front of her two college aged-girls sat in silence; one listening to a CD player, the other watching the in-flight movie, some new romantic comedy staring Hugh Grant. Did he ever star in anything else? Most of the shades on the plane were drawn, blocking out the remaining sunlight, and she sighed grateful for that fact.

Her eyes continued to take in the cabin around her, finally falling on his sleeping form beside her. She smiled to herself. As tough as he tried to make himself out to be when he was awake he could not hide his softer side when he slept. She loved watching him sleep, it was a secret pleasure she had discovered the first night she had ever slept in his arms. Her mind slipped back to that night when he had found her drowning in self-pity in a stranger’s house; how he had given her his heart and his soul, and opened her eyes to the strength she had within. It was in that moment that she finally began to fully understand him, and all that he had become for her.

A sharp dip in the plane’s forward motion brought her back to reality, her nails biting into the arm rests at her side. She hated turbulence. Spike stirred ever so slightly in his sleep, the edges of the thick wool blanket he had wrapped around himself slipping down around the sides of his face. Gently she reached out and pushed the heavy fabric away from his eyes, his hair sticking up in soft tendrils all about his face. She loved it when his hair was slightly messy, and leaning back against her own seat, she smiled with contentment.

So far the trip had gone smoothly. The flight out of Charles de Gaulle had taken about 7 and a half hour, getting them into New York’s JFK airport at around 1 pm. October had turned out to be an ideal time to fly into the New England area, the shorter fall days bringing with them an increasing number of gray-clouded afternoons, and they had both breathed a sigh of relief at the muted sunlight. After getting off the plane, Spike had found a dark corner against the far wall of their terminal by an out-of-service bathroom in which to relax. The thick gray wool blanket they had purchased back in London wrapped around his entire body, blocking out any sunrays that might penetrate the thick cloud cover and large glass windows of the terminal.

While he relaxed, she had gone in search of some food, buying herself a small sandwich and a bottle of tomato juice for him. With Spike as her look-out, she had slipped into the closed down bathroom, flushed the tomato juice down the toilet, and refilled the bottle with the last remaining pint of blood she had been keeping in an insulated thermos in her backpack, an early morning purchase from one of the many demons that frequented Paris’s beloved airport. Their lunch in hand, Buffy had returned to him and curled up between his legs, her back resting against his chest. Their next flight didn’t depart until 5pm, so after finishing their lunch they dozed together in their corner of solitude. No one paid much attention to them with all the different groups of coeds sprawled out throughout the terminal, and so they had enjoyed a quiet few hours together. By 4:30pm they were settling into their seats, preparing for the 6 hour flight to LA.

That had been over 4 hours ago. Stretching again, she rose and moved carefully down the aisle of the airplane towards the small lavatory door, which hung open. Stepping inside she pulled the folding doors shut behind her and turned the large plastic lock into place. For a moment she just stared at her travel weary face in the small rectangular mirror before her. The smell of the recycled air of the plane around her suddenly seemed thick in her nostrils, and she had to shake off the feeling that the plane was closing in around her. She rarely felt claustrophobic, but standing in the extra cramped lavatory made her mildly uneasy, bringing back memories of digging herself out of her own casket. Shaking her head she quickly turned on the small faucet before her and plunged her hands into the icy cold water, splashing it onto her face. She gasped slightly as the cold took her breath away, but it felt good, washing away some of her anxiety.

Turning off the faucet, she fumbled for the paper towel dispenser, her eyes still closed. Pulling out a sheet of the course paper, she dabbed at her eyes and face, finally opening her them to her reflection before her. But she wasn’t alone. With horror she saw the decaying, mutilated face of a young girl and older man staring back at her. She jumped slightly, standing up straight, and spinning around to face them, but there was no one behind her. Confused she turned back to the mirror and there they were again, their sore-covered faces peeling and bleeding before her. They stared at her with haunted, pain-filled eyes, their skin scorched and raw.

She opened her mouth to speak but at the moment she heard him scream; Spike crying out in pain. Before she could react the figures grabbed her and threw her head long into the small sink in front of her. She felt something heavy hit her in the back, and her forehead slammed into the metal basin, dropping her body to the floor. A wave of dizziness washed over her as she struggled to her feet, her eyes falling again on her reflection in the mirror. The figures were gone.

The sound of Spike’s cries broke through her dizziness and she frantically tried to open the door, but it was stuck. Wedging herself against the far wall, she lifted her body up with her arms and slammed her feet hard into the door. It gave a little but remained in place. She kicked again and again, finally knocking it off its hinges and kicking it halfway out into the aisle.

Pushing passed the hanging door, she stumbled back towards her seat. She could see him now, the blanket that had been around him was tossed haphazardly in his lap and he was using one corner of it to beat out flames that were erupting from his right arm. The few occupants of the cabin were staring at him in horror, frozen in their seats watching the odd spectacle play out. Grabbing the cup of ice water that sat next to the businessman’s laptop, she flung it at the flames, dousing them in a cloud of steam.

“Spike, are you alright?” she breathed dropping into the seat next to him, and gently pulling the blanket back from his injured arm. He groaned in pain, as the wool fibers pulled away from his burned flesh. Reaching forward, she pulled one of the small bottles of Jack Daniels he had left half empty sitting in the seat pocket in front of him. Quickly she poured it over the burn as he grunted in pain.

“What’s going on?” a dark-haired flight attendant called, finally arriving at the scene of the commotion. She noticed the burn on Spike’s arm and gasped, her hands clutching at her lips. “How did…”

Buffy quickly cut her off, rising to meet her, her body blocking Spike from the woman’s view. “I’m very sorry to disturb you,” Buffy offered forcing herself to look as embarrassed as possible. “My friend here sort of has an addiction,” she reached inside Spike’s coat pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “We’re actually on our way to a rehab clinic in LA, and I only got up for a minute.” She bowed her head in shame. “I thought he would be fine. I’m very sorry.”

Anger smoldered in the flight attendant’s eyes but only for a moment, Buffy’s ashamed form assuaging her. She sighed. “It’s alright, my brother has a pretty serious alcohol addiction.” Leaning around Buffy she glared down at Spike, “But there is absolutely no smoking on airplanes.” She emphasized her irritation and anger by tapping on the ‘no smoking’ sign illuminated above their heads. Turning back to Buffy she held out her hand and Buffy dropped the box of cigarettes into it. “I’ll see if I can find any bandages in our First Aid kit,” the woman mumbled moving off down the aisle.

As she moved away, Buffy let out a deep breath and dropped down in her seat.

“Rehab?” Spike lifted an eyebrow and offered her a weak smile of thanks.

“What happened?” She whispered back, leaning towards him.

“Not sure, luv.” He frowned and looked down at his injured arm, the skin red and bubbly. “Woke up and you were gone, figured you were in the lav. I was taking of my seatbelt all set on joining you in there when suddenly the shade here goes up and the sunlight just pours in. Next thing I know I’m my own Roman candle.”

“The shade just went up? On its own?

He nodded.

She frowned. “Something is definitely going on, Spike. I think something doesn’t want us reaching LA.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Trip to the lav was a bit more eventful than you planned?” He reached forward his thumb wiping away the blood that had started to clot over her right eye where her head had struck the sink.

Quickly and quietly she told him about the figures in the mirror and the attacker that she had been unable to see. While she told him the flight attendant returned with a gauze wrap for Spike and a band-aid for her. Buffy could tell the dark haired woman wanted to ask her more about the injury above her eye, and whether or not she knew anything about the broken bathroom door but she thought better of it.

“Looks like something big and bad has awakened in LA, pet,” Spike mused as she wrapped the gauze around his injured arm. He could see her eyes darken. “No worries, though,” he added, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her against him. “Sun’s down now and I’ve got your back. We’ll figure it out before too long.”

She nodded silently, as he kissed the top of her head, but inside she had a deep sinking feeling and the idea of seeing Angel wasn’t helping much either.

-----

It was nearly midnight by the time they caught a cab, the dry heat of the California night providing a welcomed relief to the recycled, stale air conditioning of the plane and airport. They sat in silence after giving the driver the address, each staring out their own window lost in their own thoughts. For her, this would be the first time seeing Angel since she had come back for Spike, since she had told Angel she had chosen Spike over him. For him, it was the return to a hell he had been grateful to leave; a place where he had spent every ounce of his strength repenting for his sins and all the while chained to the one creature that haunted him more than anyone else, alive or dead.

“Wolfram & Hart,” the driver called out after the two of them failed to notice that the cab had stopped. Spike thanked him, as he handed him a wad of crumpled bills and followed Buffy out of the car.

She stood for a moment, staring up at the law firm’s formidable façade. Then re-shouldering her bag she began to move up the front steps, but Spike remained behind.

“Spike?” she called, holding the heavy glass door opened behind her.

“Go on in, luv,” he replied with a wave of his left hand, his other hand searching for the extra pack of cigarettes hidden in his coat. With a flash of fire he drew in a deep long drag and let it out slow and steady.

She eyed him carefully. Something was up, but she was in no mindset to deal with moody vampires. Whatever Spike’s problem was he would have to deal with it or get over it soon enough, so with a roll of her eyes she stalked into the building.

The lower lobby of Wolfram & Hart was like a tomb, eerily silent and dark. Thick heavy carpets and curtains covered the entire length of the walls, muting out even the loud clank of the glass door closing behind her. There was no one at the front desk, no guard in sight. Sighing heavily, she made her way over to the directory, scanning down the list of rooms until she found her destination. With a parting glance at Spike, still loitering outside the building, Buffy made her way over to a bank of elevators and stabbed violently at the ‘up’ button with her index finger. Spike's behavior was already getting on her nerves. What was his problem now? With the gentle hiss of compressed air, the elevator doors slid open and she stepped in. As she entered in the floor number the doors shut with a deadening silence, making her aware of how alone she was. But as the elevator began to move upward the quiet strings of country music began to drift down towards her.

“Definitely a demonic law firm,” she muttered to herself, her right hand gently twirling the stake stuffed deep in the pocket of her leather coat, her mind trying to focus on something, anything to block out the awful crooning that seemed to be growing louder.

Just when she didn’t think she would be able to take one more lyric of “My Achy Breaky Heart” the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Quickly Buffy stepped out and punched the down button, sending the elevator and its torturous music as far away from her as possible.

“Yick!” she shuddered as the last remaining cords faded away. “Remind me to talk to Angel about his taste in music,” she muttered with disgust as she looked around the large open lobby before her. To her right in gold leafed letters the words “Wolfram & Hart” glittered in the semi-darkness, as if illuminated on their own. Once again the place was empty except for a light shining from beneath a closed door at the opposite end of the hall. As she moved towards it, Buffy could hear the sound of several voices. At first she figured it was Angel, Wesley, and maybe Harmony, but as she drew closer she was aware of 5 separate male voices. Frowning, she lifted her hand to knock when the door flew open before her and a dark shadow walked straight into her.

“Buffy?” a formal accented voice called out to her, as a strong hand grabbed her elbow to keep her from falling over.

“Wes…Giles!” She beamed as she took in the gentle face of her Watcher. “What…” she began.

“Buff?” Xander’s voice called over Giles’s shoulder, as she made her way into the room. Within seconds Buffy found herself wrapped up in the arms of her old friend. It had been nearly 2 years since she had seen either Giles or Xander.

“Buffy,” Angel’s soft voice floated like velvet around her ears, as she turned from Xander’s embrace to look up at the dark-haired vamp.

“Angel,” she grinned, moving forward and hugging him tightly.

“How did you know to come here?” Giles asked as he began to close the door behind him.

“Watch it there, Rupert,” Spike’s voice made the older Brit jump slightly as he pushed his way into the room.

“Spike,” Angel acknowledged not even attempting to hide the distain in his voice.

“Nice to see you to, Angel-boy,” Spike replied with a sarcastic smile, dropping himself down onto a large black leather couch that sat to one side in the room, his cigarette burning low and hanging between his lips. “My, my, the whole Nancy Drew team is all here; must be something big. Wait, don’t tell me, apocalypse is coming or maybe you three have finally started your own junior detective club. I bet you have decoder rings and everything. ”

“Charming as ever, Spike,” Giles replied, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief. Spike just grinned, and took another drag on his cigarette.

“You mind putting that thing out?” Xander glared at Spike. “Some of us are still enjoying a life.”

Spike opened his mouth to no doubt ably insult Xander but Buffy cut him off. “Spike, put the cigarette out.” His eyes moved from her face to Xander’s for a few moments before he flicked the cigarette into the nearby garbage can, and loudly propped his feet up on the small table in front of him. Buffy shot him a look.

“Giles, Gunn said the Senior Partners might have some information…” Kennedy wandered in from an adjoining back room followed by Wesley and Gunn. “Buffy!” she beamed as her eyes fell on her old teacher. “I knew you would come.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Buffy looked from Giles to Kennedy to Xander to Angel. She was suddenly very aware someone was missing. “Where’s Willow?”

The look on Kennedy’s face was all the answer she needed.

“Tell me everything.”

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N: This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

All biological and historical information discussed in this fanfic is accurate. It came from notes taken in several different biologically related courses at the University of Connecticut as well as A&E, The History Channel, and Discovery Channel. If you are interested in specific references I can provide them for you.

---------

“I’m still not completely sure I know what happened,” Kennedy began. She now sat in an over-stuffed armchair opposite Buffy who was sitting on the armrest of the leather couch next to Spike. Xander paced nervously back and forth behind the couch, while Giles stood in the corner fixing Kennedy a cup of tea and himself a stiff brandy. “She had been so happy the last few days. Yesterday was the 4th anniversary of Tara’s death and it was the first time Will didn’t wake up crying.”

Giles gently handed Kennedy the cup of tea. “Thank you,” she mumbled and took a small sip before continuing. “She had gotten up early to see the sun rise. She loves being alone in the mountains in the morning, when she can help bring nature to life. You guys should see her now; she truly is a goddess of Earth.” Kennedy paused and smiled sadly off into space. “I was making breakfast. I could see Willow walking among the wild flowers at the back of our house. She was singing to herself. We were going to go for a picnic that afternoon and she had wanted fresh flowers to present as an offering for Tara. I was watching her and not what I was doing, and I managed to set a dishrag on fire. I was trying to put it out when I heard her scream. By the time I got outside she was no where in sight, and the area where she had been,” Kennedy looked up into Buffy’s eyes, “Buffy, it had been leveled! Every last living thing had been destroyed, burned to ash. And, and there was some blood, fresh blood, on the ground! I called for her but there was no answer. Then I was struck from behind and knocked out. When I came to it was nearly noon. I looked for her but I couldn’t find her, so I called Giles. We’ve been searching ever since.”

“Oh god, Willow,” Buffy whispered.

“You don’t reckon Red’s gone black again, do you?” Spike leaned forward on the couch, glancing up at Buffy with concern.

“Jesus, Spike! You really have no compassion do you?” Xander growled from behind him.

“What?” the blond-haired vampire shouted back getting to his feet and turning to face Xander. “You know you’ve all been thinking it, wondering it. It doesn’t make me any less compassionate just because I have the balls to ask it.”

“No,” Kennedy interrupted. “That damage, if it was caused by Willow, was definitely in defense, not an open attack.”

“I’m just saying, anniversary of her dead lover’s death; I wouldn’t blame Red for flipping out a bit,” Spike continued.

“No,” Kennedy shook her head. “Not this time.”

“Alright, so any ideas on who took her?” Buffy chimed in.

“None,” Kennedy sighed. “That’s why Giles and I came here.”

“By the way, Buff, if you hadn’t heard about Will, what brought you out here?” Xander frowned. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s great to see you, but if you never got our messages…”

“I’ve been having visions,” Buffy admitted. “Pretty violent ones too.”

“What are they of?” Wesley called from across the room where he and Gunn had been absorbed in a stack of papers and old books.

“Just your typical ‘end-of-the-world’ variety vision,” Buffy sighed. “There’s fire and blood; some woman is screaming. Oh and there’s singing.”

“Singing?” Xander raised an eyebrow. “None of us were doing the singing were we?”

“No, it was children, or rather children’s voices. I never actually saw them. Very Stephen King. They were singing Ring Around the Rosey.”

“The child’s game?” Angel piped up from his seat behind his desk. He had been silent up until then, sitting back listening, his fingertips pressed together in thought.

“Yep, that’s the one,” Buffy nodded.

“Anything else? Anything about Willow?” Kennedy stared hopefully at Buffy.

“No, sorry, no Willow. But there was this guy,” Buffy turned to face Angel. “A young man dressed all in black with a round flat hat. I’ve met him before. Some immortal demon but on the side of good. He came to warn me the night you tried to open Acathla, Angel. He knew you.”

“Did he say anything?” Giles pressed.

“He said ‘the end is coming. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust’.”

“That’s it? Was there anything else that happened?” Wesley leaned in.

For a second, Buffy glanced sidelong at Spike. There was no need to tell the others about what happened to him in her vision, at least not yet. “No, that was it.

Angel frowned, tapping his fingers together. “I’m not sure who he is. Could be several different demons. We should talk to Lorne. He might have heard something.”

Buffy nodded.

“I’ll look into the Ring Around the Rosy reference,” Wesley mused, tapping his lower lip with his finger. “Seems significant enough.”

“I’ll help you,” Xander volunteered, following Wesley out of the office.

“As I was telling Kennedy before, the Senior Partners might have some information on Willow or Buffy’s vision,” Gunn offered.

“Good idea, Gunn, but be careful how much you tell them,” Angel instructed before turning to Giles. “Faith should be arriving at LAX in an hour; can you swing by and pick her up?”

“On my way now,” Giles replied, grabbing his coat.

“I’ll try the Coven again,” Kennedy rose slowly from her chair. “Maybe they’ve found something on Will.”

“Good idea.” Buffy offered the younger girl a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.” She reached out and squeezed Kennedy’s hand gently, as she passed her following Angel towards the door.

“Spike?” Buffy paused looking back at him. He had remained where he was, staring out the large glass windows that covered the far wall of the office. She could see the muscles in his jaws moving back and forth ever so slightly.

“He’s coming with us?” Angel sighed down at Buffy. She shot him a look. It was like dealing with children sometimes.

For a second Spike seemed not to hear her, his eyes still staring off. But suddenly he turned, “Right then.” He moved passed her without a glance, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. Pausing to light it in front of Angel, he glanced up at the older vamp as he let out a curl of white smoke. “Lead the way fearless leader.”

“You’re not smoking in my car,” Angel shot back, stalking towards the elevators. “I’m driving, we play by my rules.”

“That’s all well and good mate, but Red will be dead and buried by the time we get to the bar if we let you take the wheel.”

“What are you saying?” Angel growled, pounding on the elevator buttons.

“Just that you make my grandmother look like a NASCAR champion.”

“Will you two stop it?” Buffy interrupted with a roll of her eyes. “Can you at least pretend to play nice?”

“I thought we were, luv,” Spike shrugged nonchalantly as the elevator doors opened into the law firm’s underground parking garage.

-----

Lorne’s bar was strangely empty for the hour of night. Normally the place would be packed with demons of all shapes and sizes enjoying a drink and some live entertainment, but tonight only silence greeted Angel as he pushed open the glass doors.

“Lively place,” Buffy raised an eyebrow at Angel. How were they possibly going to find any answers in a place like this?

“Angel-cakes!” Lorne’s singsong voice danced across the bar as the green-faced demon entered from the back room, a monster grin on his bright red lips. “What can I get for you?”

“A Jack for me, mate?” Spike put up a finger as he moved around Angel’s broad frame and took a seat at the bar.

“Sorry Spike, didn’t see you there.” Lorne smiled grabbing a glass from under the bar. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in ages. I thought you went off with…” Lorne’s eyes fell on Buffy’s petite figure as she too moved out from behind Angel’s shadow.

“The Slayer,” Lorne’s smile faded slightly and he glance around the bar at the few patrons.

“Angel, what are you trying to do to me bringing her here?” he hissed. “No offense,” he added giving Buffy more of a wince than a smile.

“None taken,” she replied, her eyes still continuing to take in the bar around her. “Angel, is this a karaoke bar?”

“We need some information, Lorne,” Angel leaned against the bar, ignoring Buffy’s question. “Have you heard anything lately?”

“You need to be a little more specific than that, Angel,” Lorne’s eyes continued to shift between Buffy and Angel.

“Is this what you guys do for entertainment now?” Buffy continued on oblivious to Angel and Lorne’s conversation.

“What the great brooding clod is trying to say is anything going on that’s got the locals a tad more skittish than usual?” Spike broke in, glancing sidelong at Lorne and Angel before taking a deep swig from his glass.

“Take a look for yourself,” Lorne waved his hand at the nearly empty room before them. “Last few nights it’s been like this. Yah, something is going down, boys, or maybe coming, never can be sure these days. Though what, I can’t say.”

“You aren’t going to sing?” Buffy turned and looked directly at Angel, a smile pulling at the edge of her lips. She just couldn’t resist. “A duet with Spike perhaps?”

“The world is doomed,” a smooth male voice snickered from a table absorbed in shadows at the far end of the bar. The brief flash of a match illuminated a shaven jaw and two dark eyes. “Let me guess, your claim to slayer fame is your impeccable fashion sense and perky hair.” A chair squeaked as it was pushed back from the table and a figure emerged from the shadows.

“You!” Buffy cried, her jaw dropping as the man from her visions strode calmly towards them.

“Whistler,” Angel frowned, staring down at the much smaller demon.

“Been awhile, Angel,” the young man nodded, his cigarette still hanging from his lips.

“This is the bloke?” Spike arched an eyebrow at Buffy. She nodded.

“Spike, right?” Whistler touched the tip of his hat. “Ensouled now too I see.” A smirk crossed his lips as he took a long look at Spike and Angel. “She must have some power between those legs of hers.”

“And you’re as irritating as I remember you,” Buffy grabbed Whistler by the shirt and slammed him into the bar, his cigarette falling to the floor.

“Woah there,” Whistler put his hands up in protest. “No harm meant. I distinctly remember you offering to rip out my rib cage and wear it as a hat last time we met. Imagery like that doesn’t leave a man.”

“Then I suggest you watch yourself because the offer still stands.” Buffy gave him one last hard shove into the bar before releasing him. “Now care to tell me why you’ve been in my visions?”

“I didn’t plant those visions if that’s what you’re thinking,” Whistler replied straightening out his shirt and jacket. Reaching into his pocket he began to search for another cigarette. Spike offered him his box.

“Thanks, mate.” Whistler grinned.

“I ain’t your mate, but if it will get you to answer the lady’s questions faster then help yourself.”

“It was simple really. The visions were already there; I just decided to tag along.” He struck a new match and took in a long drag. “I just figured you’ve earned a heads up for this one.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Buffy shot back, her arms crossed, her eyes burrowing into Whistler with every ounce of hatred she could muster.

“Well seeing as all you’ve accomplished as the one and only slayer for so long, I figured you deserved a little advanced warning of what’s coming. That and I thought you’d want to be here for Angel’s big day.” He grinned up at Angel. “All those years of repentance and brooding about to come to an end, figured you above all people would want to see how it goes down.”

“Enough with the cryptic double-talk!” Buffy growled. “God, I hate you immortal types. You assume just because you have all the time in the world the rest of us do too. Spit it out or it’s BBQ ribs all around.”

“The Shanshu prophecy,” Angel whispered.

“That’s what you’re referring to, ain’t it?” Spike was on his feet now.

“You guys catch on pretty quick.”

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised, Angel?” Whistler blanched. “Working at Wolfram & Hart all this time, you of all people should know what’s really going on.. You’ve seen the evil growing, how many of the signs have already come and gone. The world is on a runaway train to hell and there is only one more stop to make.”

“The apocalypse,” Angel whispered.

“Bingo, babe.” He took another long drag on his cigarette. “Can a man get a beer?” he glanced at Lorne.

“Hey now, if you know anything about an impending apocalypse you have to tell us,” Lorne began to ramble nervously. “You have to give a fella break. I mean some of us need to know if there will be a living to be made here.” He handed a beer to Whistler who took a long drink.

“There’s not much I can tell you. Even us immortals don’t know most of the details. One thing I can tell you is this is going to be unlike anything you’ve faced before. No taunting this time, no time to prepare and train. No, this one is going to start fast and soon, and when it does the only way to stop it is to stop the blood from flowing.”

“Stop the blood from flowing,” Buffy repeated the words to herself. “What is it with apocalypses and blood flowing!”

Spike opened his mouth to say something but was silenced by a look from her.

“I know, I know, blood is life blah blah blah, but I mean really. Thousands of years to plan this apocalypse and that apocalypse, you’d think the demonic world could have come up with something more unique than blood all the time. How about stopping an apocalypse by singing the alphabet backwards or stopping the chocolate from flowing. Yah, now chocolate I could definitely stop flowing, but no, you guys have to corner the market on the whole blood flowing thing!”

“Chocolate would definitely be something to see, I’ll give you that,” Whistler grinned, snuffing the remainder of his cigarette out on the bar top. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a plane to catch.”

“Is there anything else?” Angel pressed as Whistler headed towards the door.

Whistler paused. “Just a name. Avatar.”

-----

“Meet yersinia pestis,” Wesley announced dryly, turning his laptop around for the others to see the elongated ovular image.

“Guzentheit,” Xander replied.

“Uh, Wesley, what exactly are we looking at?” Kennedy shot him a confused look.

“Yersinia pestis is the bacteria which causes the bubonic plague,” Wesley replied matter-of-factly.

“And why are we looking at a picture of the plague?” Buffy retorted. After their encounter with Whistler she wasn’t in the mood for games.

“It’s quite simple really. The song from your visions, Ring Around the Rosy, it’s a direct reference to the plague.”

“What!” Gunn thundered. “Wes, you’re kidding right?’

“Not at all. The plague, or Black Death, is perhaps the most infamous and most feared of infectious diseases in human history. Most people are familiar with it from history classes, and the epidemic of it that swept Europe during the mid-14th century, wiping out half of Europe’s population. But the disease has killed closer to 200 million over the years. The plague not only had a high mortality rate but it ravaged the body in a way that no disease ever had. An infected individual died after hours or days of suffering, their body covered with large, black buboes of dead, hemorrhaging skin as the disease moved into every organ of the body. Since then the plague has been traditionally thought of as the disease most associated with the end of all life. ”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Xander sat down heavy on the couch, his face green.

“And this rousing biology lesson has what to do with Ring Around the Rosey?” Kennedy grimaced.

“I’m getting to that. During the epidemic in the 14th century, over-crowding and poor sanitation conditions spread the disease like wild fire. Doctors had no idea what was spreading the disease, but they did piece together that those living in particularly dirty areas were hit first and hardest, so they deduced that bad air was causing the disease. As a result doctors began recommending that healthy individuals carry strong smelling flowers or incense with them in their pockets, which they could continually sniff to protect themselves from breathing in the bad air, hence Ring Around the Rosey. It’s rather ingenious actually; a child’s song capturing the fear and hope of a ravaged people, secretly passing down what was thought to be a life saving technique.”

“I’m still not completely sure I follow you, Wes,” Gunn shook his head. “I mean little kids play that game and they are dancing around and laughing when they do.”

“Precisely. History is remembered in secret, in an innocent game, but the message is not. Just look at the lines,” and Wesley began to recite them, “Ring around the rosey, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.” The posies are a reference to the European doctor’s recommendations for protecting oneself from getting sick but the end, the ‘ashes, ashes, we all fall down’ refers right back to the fear and the reality that even the doctor’s prescriptions could not save those stricken by the disease and that many people just dropped dead in a matter of hours. They were laughing one minute and falling down dead the next.”

“This is just bloody wrong, if you ask me,” Spike shifted his weight, his body leaning against the doorframe.

“For once, Spike, I agree with you,” Xander added.

“So what does this all mean, Wesley?” Buffy finally spoke, her voice soft and distant. She looked the young watcher square in the eye. “What do the books say?”

“Well, to be on the safe side I had Xander run a check on major labs and medical facilities. No vials of yersinia have been reported missing, so I don’t think it’s some run of the mill biological attack or anything. As for the books,” Wesley breathed a heavy sigh and removed his glasses, gently massaging his aching forehead. “You aren’t going to like this.”

“I’m not expecting to,” Buffy replied, “Just tell us.”

“Revelations, the last book of the Christian Bible, talks about the end of the world and the coming of Christ. It describes how Christ will open 7 seals, the first 4 of which will unleash the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Conquest, War, Famine, and Death, whom will bring misery and suffering to Earth. As you know, most biblical stories are just that stories. I mean after all, there is no mention of the ancient demons or the ancient wars with them in Genesis or any other parts of the Old Testament. But the Revelations story does have a bit of truth to it. I found a more detailed and complete account in an ancient Sumerian text. According to the book, every so many millennia the balance between good and evil shifts completely to one side or the other. When this happens a rebirth is needed to restore the balance. Either through untainted sacrifice or complete destruction the rebirth must occur. Apparently we are in the middle of a rebirth right now. The Sumerian text speaks of a buried temple beneath fallen angels where this millennia’s rebirth will begin. Within the temple, a conduit of great mystical power must be drained of both its powers and its blood, unleashing the Four Horsemen who will cleanse the Earth of humanity and set the demon races against one another until the rebirth is complete: “And the blood will flow and the horseman will be drawn into it, and when both are as one the power of the conduit will unleash their onslaught upon the Earth.” Anyway, it goes on like that for a bit, but the important thing is that we have a clue as to who will bring it about…”

“The Avatar,” Buffy interrupted.

“Exactly,” Wesley looked at her with surprise.

“We found Whistler,” Buffy replied.

“Ah, and what is a Whistler?” Xander frowned.

“The bloke from Buffy’s visions,” Spike’s replied, his voice cool and even. “Saucy little bugger.”

“And this Whistler told you about an Avatar?” Wesley turned back to Buffy.

She nodded.

“Did he say anything else?” Wesley pressed.

“He mentioned the Shanshu prophecy,” Angel chimed in, an odd look on his face. “Said the prophecy’s fulfillment is at hand.”

“I see,” Wesley pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“So you get to be a real boy?” Xander smirked at Angel.

“Some ensouled vampire gets to be,” Spike shot back, his arms crossed across his chest, his eyes staring into Angel’s. Buffy swallowed hard resisting an urge to go to Spike. Not now, now they had to focus and plan.

“Ok,” Xander glanced from Spike to Angel and decided to change the subject, “If all this is true then all we have to do is stop this Avatar, destroy the conduit, and we’re home free.”

“In theory, yes,” Wesley mused. “But it’s a bit more difficult than that. We don’t know whether this Avatar is human or demon, or even where this temple is located.”

“You said it is buried beneath fallen angels, right?” Angel interrupted

Wesley nodded.

“We know there were ancient Sumerian temples in this area before, not to mention a number of temples to the ancient race of demons. Would it be fair to say this is a city of many fallen angels?” Angel glanced sidelong at Wesley.

“I guess here is as good a place as any to start looking, but Angel, what makes you so sure it’s here?”

“Because we’ve all been brought here.” Angel’s eyes met Buffy’s and held them for a few moments.

“Ok, but what about the conduit?” Gunn began to pace the room nervously. “I got nothing out of the Senior Partners. No one even showed up.”

“The text said it possesses great mystical power,” Xander frowned as he joined Gunn in his pacing.

“And in order for the Horsemen to be released it has to be drained of its power and blood..” Kennedy’s voice trailed off as her eyes met Buffy’s. A wave of horror washed over them both as they came to the same conclusion.

“Willow,” Buffy whispered.

“So this Avatar bloke has Red, but we don’t know where he’s at?” Spike began thinking out loud. “Seems to me we concentrate on finding this temple, and sooner or later he’s bound to show up, and we just knock him up a bit.”

Wesley and Xander just stared at Spike.

“What?” the blond vampire shrugged.

“Wes, you and Gunn see if you can find out any more on what exactly the ritual to unlock the Horsemen entails.” Angel barked, the urgency of the situation fully sinking in.

“Angel, you know the city’s layout better than anyone here, why don’t you start looking for a location where this temple might be,” Buffy followed his lead, sensing Angel’s train of thought. “Xander, your familiarity with construction plans and schematics might be of some use here, why don’t you join Angel.”

“I O boss lady,” Xander shot Buffy a mock salute. She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“And take Spike with you,” she added as Xander and Angel moved towards the door. The three men looked at her with shock. “Just do it!” She replied, her voice giving them little room to argue. “Kennedy and I are going to work on a game plan and wait for Giles to get back with Faith. We’re going to need everyone together on this one.” She turned back to Kennedy as the others began to leave. “I promise you we’ll get her back safely.”

Spike watched her for a moment longer, watching her talk quietly with Kennedy. He’d had no time to talk with her alone since they’d arrived and he was getting the distinct impression she was avoiding him, afraid to look him in the eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder if her visions and the Shanshu prophecy had anything to do with it.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N: This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

---------

London, 1881

He had been his mentor, his guide in this new world. She had been his destiny, his angel. Together they had spent his first year traveling the world, opening his eyes to the new life or death he was now eternally a part of. He had taught him to hunt, to kill, and to enjoy it. She had taught him how it felt to be desired, consumed, loved. But even in this new world where passions both dark and carnal ruled, he could not escape what he was at his core: a dreamer, an idealist, a threat to his mentor’s ways. And so early on, Angelus had sought to break his young student, to teach him that no amount of love could keep Angelus from Drusilla.

It was a lesson he learned early in his young life, returning late from his night out alone in his new form only to find Darla gone, and both Angelus and his Dru re-dressing. Despite what his eyes saw and his mouth spoke, his heart never fully believed it. Dru had saved him from the worthless life he had been. She had chosen him. She loved him, and eventually even Angelus would see that some things could be possessed. Dru was his love.

Yet now all those thoughts, those dreams, those hopes born in a dead heart still green to the Earth fell about him in broken tatters. He had been deceived by his own heart, and the illusions he had created, the delusions he had believed fell from his eyes onto the entwined limbs that rocked back and forth before him.

They had not seen him yet, so lost in their passions, and he had been to afraid to move, frozen among the shadows unable to tear his eyes from their lovemaking. Her moaning, his deep throaty growls, her nails on his bare back, his face buried in her shirt as they writhed together in unison, it was like a bad dream, a nightmare he could not awaken from. His fists slowly began to clench at his sides, his face changing to reveal the demon within. He felt rage boiling up inside him as he reached for the wooden broomstick in the closet beside him. He would end this now.

A soft whimper behind him pulled him momentarily from his rage, and turning his eyes fell on the small street urchin behind him. The child, though dirty and ragged, had a delicate angelic face and piercing green eyes now filled with terror. Her mouth was gagged and her hands, bound against her chest still gripped the small china doll she carried. It was the doll that had originally caught his attention on the streets earlier. He knew Dru’s love of dolls well. The girl had been an added bonus; his Valentine’s Day presents to his one true love.

But now standing there, looking down at the frightened child, the creaking of the bed behind him, he found himself overcome with a new sense of anger, a deceitful, spiteful anger. Pressing a finger to his lips, he untied the child and pushed the door open a crack so she could slip out. He kept the doll however. Once the girl was out of sight down the hall, he took a deep breath and slammed the door shut, alerting them to his presence. But the scurry he expected to hear behind him never came. Instead it was Angelus’s voice that greeted him.

“I was starting to wonder how long you’d be standing there watching us.” He lay on his back, his arms folded behind his head. “Just giving Dru her rightful Valentine’s Day present.”

He ignored Angelus and moved towards Dru, who now sat on the bottom of the bed, a gossamer nightgown hanging loosely about her body, her neck and face speckled with beads of sweat. Despite the over-powering smell of Angelus that hung all around her, he leaned down and kissed her hard and long as Angelus watched.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, luv,” he whispered, handing her the doll.

“Why my sweet William has brought me a darling dolly. Miss Tabitha will be much pleased to have a caller.” Dru swayed slightly on the bed. “William is our darling boy indeed.” She nipped at his neck and then, rising, carried the doll like an infant over to three other dolls sitting neatly on the windowsill.

“That he is indeed, our young little Willie. Oh and Dru, thanks for the gift,” Angelus winked at Dru as he pulled on his pants. “Now I must find a gift for Darla before she gets back from visiting that foolhardy Master of hers.”

“Grandmother will not be pleased with our fun and games Angelus, no, no, no,” Dru pouted and shook her whole body back and forth.

“What Grandmother does not know will not hurt her, right Willie?” Angelus laughed as he headed out the door.

“It’s William!” He shouted after the older vampire.

There was a sharp cry and then Angelus’s voice again called out from the hallway. “Well then William, I thank you for your gift as well. The innocent always taste best.”

-----

“Spike!”

The sound of Xander’s voice brought Spike back from his memories. “What are you hollering for? You’re standing right next to me, you git!” Spike snapped back, slightly embarrassed.

“Well if you’d answered me the first 3 times I called your name,” Xander mumbled half under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing. Now do you mind helping us out here? We need to locate early maps of the area. Try those file cabinets over there,” Xander pointed to a large panel of silver drawers along the far wall.

“Bollocks!” Spike muttered as he pulled out the first drawer and began rummaging through it. The central office of the Los Angeles Historical Society was a junkyard of papers, files, and miscellaneous antique knick-knacks. It was nearly impossible to find the room’s furniture among the mess, let alone locate a particular sort of map. Spike slammed the first drawer shut with a crash, sending a pile of folders and notebooks down upon his head. “Bloody hell!” he cursed. The night was indeed going to hell. First he was forced to follow Angel around like some puppy and now he was taking orders from Wonder Boy and being buried alive by useless piles of rubbish. “This bloody apocalypse better hurry up and get here already,” he growled.

“I think I found something,” Angel’s disembodied voice called out from behind a tower of assorted papers and files. After a few minutes he came into view from behind a bookcase, carrying something wrapped in some animal fur.

“Well that’s definitely old,” Xander nodded as he took the parcel from Angel and began rolling its contents out on top of a nearby table already covered in papers. “Spike, angle the flashlight a little to the left.” He tossed the flashlight to Spike who begrudgingly obeyed.

Xander moved quickly through page after page of maps, all of which seemed to be drawn out on one type of animal flesh or another. Finally after a good 10 minutes of searching he reached the last one in the stack.

“This is it,” he smiled triumphantly.

“How can you be so sure?” Angel frowned looking at the sparsely labeled map, written in some language unlike any he’d seen before.

“There’s a pentagram,” Xander pointed. His finger running between 5 unlabeled structures that looked eerily like temples. “And where all 5 converge,” he tapped his finger at the very center of the pentagram, on top of a smaller looking temple structure, “there’s your battlefield.”

Angel frowned.

“Trust me, that’s the place. If there is one thing I learned from Willow magic is always strongest at the center of a pentagram.” With a triumphant smile, he rolled the maps back up and followed his vampire companions back out onto the street.

Opening the door to his car, Angel turned back to Xander. “We should check the place out.”

“Don’t you think Buffy will want to see it too?” Xander frowned.

“Probably, but if we go now we can save some time. There’s still at least an hour before sunrise.”

Angel’s words rung home: the more they knew right away, the faster they could get to Willow.

“Let’s do it,” Xander nodded, hopping over the passenger door of Angel’s convertible and into his seat. Spike remained on the curb lighting another cigarette.

“Spike?” Angel glanced over his shoulder at the younger vampire as he started up the car.

“Go ahead. Get the info to Buffy. There’s something I got to look into first. I’ll meet you back at the office.”

Without another word Angel drove off, leaving Spike alone on the sidewalk. He stood in silence for a few moments, taking in a few drags and watching the smoke slowly fade away as he breathed it out. Finally after he spoke, “Been following us all night, haven’t you?”

From the shadows a few feet ahead of him, Illyria’s delicate form moved into the light. “Something is happening.” It was more of a statement than a question, but Spike could tell she was uncertain.

“That it is, little sheila,” Spike lifted his fingers to his lips, took a long drag, and flicked a few burning embers to the sidewalk beside him.

“There is a battle coming? You will fight?” Illyria moved closer towards Spike, her unworldly blue eyes, unblinking, boring into him.

He nodded.

“You will die?”

“If it’s my time, I suppose so.” He dropped the smoldering remains of the cigarette to the sidewalk, snuffing it out with his shoe as if to emphasize her words.

“Why?” She stared at him, her head cocked to the left. As much as she despised humanity and the races she deemed as lesser demons their actions fascinated her and she had an almost android-like obsession with discovering the logic in them, even when there was none. “Do you follow Angel into battle because he is your master?”

“Angel is not my master!” Spike glared at her. He had told her that many times before but she never seemed satisfied with his answers. “I’m my own master; always have been, always will. I take no order from any man living or dead, especially not from that holier-than-thou git!”

“Then why will you fight?” He was confusing her yet intriguing her all at the same time.

“That, Blue, is the million dollar question. I don’t know exactly. I guess I fight because this world needs saving.” No, that wasn’t the real reason and he could tell that Illyria didn’t buy it. Spike shook his head with a sigh, “I fight because she will fight, because it is who I have become.” Raising his head he met her gaze, staring back into her blue dead eyes.

“I do not understand. You live by human rules but you are not human. You were a great warrior once? You killed many humans, with Angel.”

Again he nodded.

“But now you both protect humans, but you are demons. Why?”

“It’s a bit complicated, luv,” Spike smirked.

“What is a Buffy?”

Her question took Spike by surprise. He never could get use to the way in which Illyria would jump from one topic to the next. “She is the slayer,” he replied.

“Slayer? I am unfamiliar with this term. What is the slayer?” Illyria frowned.

“A girl who kills vampires,” Spike’s eyes stared through Illyria now, his thoughts moving between memories of his past and the present.

“So she is a mortal whose purpose is to kill your kind, but she is your friend?”

Spike nodded.

“Won’t she kill you?” Illyria pressed determined to understand.

“No, she won’t,” Spike’s voice was somewhat sad. “I fight with her now.” The confusion on Illyria’s face only deepened so Spike continued, “I used to kill slayers, got two of them actually, hardest bloody fights of my life. Made it my life’s work, but no more, now I protect her. I’d protect her with my life.”

“Why?” Illyria moved towards Spike again until she was standing inches from his face. Still staring into his eyes, her left hand came up and began to gently touch his face as if trying to draw the truth out of him. Suddenly she blinked and stepped back. “It is human love, isn’t it? Yes, I can smell it all over you. I can see it in your eyes. It is the same look Wesley gets when he looks at this body. I do not understand it.”

“Neither do I,” Spike turned from her. She moved to follow him, but he turned before she could move forward. “This battle that is coming, we could use a warrior, uh, superior to ourselves.” He chose his words carefully, well aware of just how much they might need Illyria’s help.

“I will come if you ask.”

The first genuine smile of the night began to tug at the edges of Spike’s lips, as he turned and moved off into the shadows. “Thanks, Blue.”

-----

“Find anything?” Buffy was on her feet as Xander and Angel entered the office.

“We found Will,” Xander replied with a weak smile, his eyes drifting to Kennedy who lay sleeping on the couch in the far corner.

“In here,” Buffy nodded towards the adjoining conference room, a finger pressed to her lips. Closing the door quietly behind her she gave a parting glance at Kennedy, “Gunn gave her something to help her relax. She needs some rest if she’s going to be involved in the fight.”

Xander and Angel nodded.

Grabbing a nearby chair she dropped heavily into it, “Ok, so what do we know?”

“We found the building where Will is being held,” Xander replied, leaning forward, his arms outstretched on the table in front of him, his hands spread wide. As he spoke, Angel handed the sheets of parchment wrapped in animal hides that they had taken from the records office to Buffy. She rolled them open carefully, her eyes running over the ancient markings.

“Wesley will want to see these,” she nodded to herself, and then rolling them up turned back to Xander.

“It’s definitely the building Buff,” Xander continued. “Angel and I checked it out. It’s a large abandoned warehouse about 20 minutes from here, pretty run down. But there’s a lot of activity there right now; quite a few vamps and humans going in and out.”

“Did you see Willow, though?” Buffy pressed, leaning towards Xander, hope shimmering in her eyes.

But Xander did not reply, his gaze dropping down to his hands, his fists rolled up into tight balls on the gleaming wooden surface of the table.

“No,” Angel replied. “No sign of her or the Avatar. But it’s definitely the place.”

“Good,” Buffy sighed rubbing at her temples, exhaustion hanging heavy on her face. “At least that’s a start. Good work guys.”

“Any news?” Wesley’s soft voice interrupted as he entered the conference room from the main doorway, Giles close on his heels.

“When did…?” Xander started, relief washing across his face at the sight of Giles.

“About a half hour ago, just after you guys left,” Buffy interrupted as she stood to face the two watchers. “Angel and Xander found the building where Willow is being held.” She handed over the parchments to Giles. Pulling on his glasses, the older watcher unrolled the sheets and spread them out across the table. Wesley joined him, the two scouring over the faded runes. “They checked the place out too,” Buffy continued. “Looks like it’s our place alright.”

“These maps are ancient,” Wes breathed, more to himself than the others. “These will be very helpful.” He glanced up at Xander and Angel with a nod.

“Have you guys found anything else,” Buffy interjected, her arms crossed as she moved to stand behind them, glancing down at the maps herself.

“Nothing yet,” Giles replied, removing his glasses and massaging at him temples. “The Coven is doing some research and Gunn was going to try the Senior Partners again. All we know is that the ritual will happen most likely around midnight tonight, so we still have several hours to prepare.” He smiled reassuringly down at Buffy, a hand resting protectively on her shoulder. “We still have plenty of time.”

She smiled back up at him before breaking out in an involuntary yawn.

Giles glanced towards the tinted windows. “The sun will be up soon. Why don’t you all try to get some rest in the mean time.” With a parting smile, he scooped up the parchments and headed for the door, whispering in hushed tones with Wesley.

“I don’t know how much rest I’ll get,” Xander yawned, rising to his feet and stretching. “But some down time sounds like a good idea.” He glanced through the large windows that separated the conference room and Angel’s office, his eyes falling on Kennedy’s slumbering form.

“There are several bedrooms on this floor,” Angel added, also rising to his feet. “You are welcome to help yourself to any you want.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll move Kennedy,” Xander yawned again. “Keep an eye on her, just incase.” He moved towards the ajoining door.

Buffy moved towards him, her hand snaking out and grabbing his wrist. He turned to face her, his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes staring deeply into his. He released the doorknob, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her against him. She closed her eyes and hugged him back tightly. “She’s going to be ok, Xand,” she whispered against his hair.

“I know,” he breathed back. He pulled back so he could look her in the eyes, his hand coming up and tipping her chin so she was looking back at him. “You’ll do it. We’ll do it. We always do.” She couldn’t help but smile and leaned in again, hugging him tightly. “Get some rest,” he added, finally releasing her and opening the door. She nodded as she watched him leave in silence.

“Buffy,” the sound of Angel’s voice so close to her startled her from her thoughts and she turned to find him right beside her. “I know you’re tired but can we talk?”

-----


“So you find, Red?” Spike’s voice startled Xander as he carefully lifted Kennedy into his arms up off the couch. He nodded back at Spike. “Where’s Buffy?” Spike mouthed, not wanting to wake Kennedy. Xander nodded towards the conference room where they could see Angel standing beside her, talking quietly.

Spike’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sight, and absentmindedly he reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out his box of cigarettes. Xander glanced between Buffy and Angel and Spike, before shaking his head and carrying Kennedy out of the office.

Spike fumbled with the battered carton, his eyes never leaving Angel and Buffy. Quietly he moved towards the far wall, towards the windows, his fingers still struggling with the box lid.

“Bollocks!” he hissed, still unable to get the lid open, and finally throwing the carton across the room.

“I suppose that’s one way to get a light from a guy,” Faith’s coy voice danced across Angel’s office. Spike whirled from the window to find Faith standing in the middle of the room, his cigarette box in hand. Carefully she slid open the lid and pulled out two cigarettes. “Still want one?”

He shook his head, moving towards the wet bar instead and pouring himself a glass of Jack. He downed two glasses in a row before topping off a third.

“A man after my own heart,” Faith grinned, lighting her own cigarette and taking in a long drag. “One might think there’s something bothering you, Spike.”

He stared her down pointedly. “It’s nothing,” he replied, taking another swig.

Movement in the conference room next to her caught her eye and she turned watching Angel and Buffy talking. “Not the reunion you boys were hoping for?” Faith arched an eyebrow at Spike as she dropped down onto Angel’s couch. “Those two are looking might cozy.”

He let out a snort, staring down into his glass. Taking another sip he dropped down beside Faith on the couch. “Been awhile, luv. How’s the slaying?”

Faith smiled coyly again, taking in another deep drag and blowing it out at the ceiling. “You know the drill; still gives me the rush I love.”

“That I don’t doubt,” he grinned. “The old principal still sticking around?”

“Robin, hey what can I say, the boy’s got more stamina then any man I’ve met. Keeps surprising me by how creative he can be,” she arched her eyebrow again at him.

“Impressive,” Spike smiled. “Never saw you for much of a one man girl. More of an anyone’s girl.”

Faith shrugged turning back towards Buffy and Angel. “Time changes you sometimes.” She let out another curl of smoke. “Then again, sometimes it doesn’t. I thought B was your girl now.”

Spike just stared at the conference room windows. “So did I, luv. So did I.”

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N:This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

---------


“What is it, Angel?” Buffy sighed heavily, hopping up onto the conference table, her feet swinging beneath her. She was so tired and from the look in his eyes, he was about to start a conversation she really didn’t want to get into at the moment.

“We need talk about…about what Whistler said…about the Shanshu prophecy being fulfilled tonight.”

She stared back at him silently. He had the floor and she had no intention of interrupting him until he had said his piece.

“If he’s right, Buffy, then I’ll be human again,” he waited for her to react and when she didn’t he frowned and continued on. “I’ll be human again, just like we’ve always wanted.”

The phrase ‘we’ve’ struck her right between the eyes. Yep this was definitely the conversation she had been dreading since Whistler’s performance earlier that night. “Angel,” she started gently.

He sat down beside her on the table, his eyes focused on his hands in his lap. “I know you came back for Spike last year,” he interrupted, “and I know he is in your heart. But if Whistler is right, if I become human again, then I can finally give you what you deserve. We can be together again, for real this time. No fear of moments of pure happiness, no fear of unleashing my darker side; we can be a real couple again Buff. We can be together.”

The emotion in his voice was like a knife to her heart and she felt her resolve slipping. She didn’t want to hurt him, but how could she make him understand? Tears began to well up in her eyes and she struggled to swallow them. “Angel,” she tried again, but her voice was shaking too much with emotion.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her drawing her against him, and for a few moments they just sat like that in silence. Finally, confident that she had control of her voice once again, Buffy spoke up. “Angel,” she reached out and touched the side of his face. “I loved you so much and I don’t think that part of me will ever stop loving you. You were my first love and that is something that every girl carries with her forever; their first love. You were my world for so long, and I would have given up life itself if it meant I could be with you, or at least that’s how it felt. But we both know that feelings and reality are not the same. When you left me in Sunnydale, I broke into so many pieces I never thought I would completely heal. I wallowed for a while, tried to lose myself in the fights, but nothing seemed to fill the hole. I tried dating again, opening myself up to love, but nothing seemed to be enough. Not my friends, not sex, not even my death gave me solace. And then the words and actions of one man re-awoken that sleeping part of me, he helped to heal up the wounds, and fill up the emptiness. Angel, I have been through more and grown in ways that I myself am still coming to terms with and through it all there has been one person who has given me the strength to take up my own cross, to become who I was truly meant to become. I’m sorry but Spike is more than just in my heart, he is my heart.”

She paused as he turned his face from hers, pain creasing the edges of his lips. Again she swallowed hard and turned his face gently back to her own. “Angel, you have changed my life in so many ways. You will always be a very important part of my life and I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t promise you what you want. I can’t be what you seek.”

“But things will be different,” he protested, his arm pulling her closer to him. His face was inches from her own and he leaned in a bit closer. “We can be whole this time, Buffy. I can give you everything, just give me the chance and let me try to show you.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. To his surprise she didn’t protest nor did she kiss him back, she just allowed him to kiss her, and finally he began to understand.

“When Cordelia died I thought I’d lost everything. I thought love was something I would forever be denied; first Darla, then you, and then Cordy. But you were and are still alive; you were the exception, you were the reason I became who I became.” She looked at him in confusion but he plowed on. “Whistler found me, Buffy, and he showed me you. You were so young. It was back when your parents were still together. He showed me you and offered me a purpose for my existence, to protect you, to help you, to fight to save the world. Since that day I loved you, before I met you I loved you, and yet even our love was forbidden, but then I learned of the prophecy and I found hope again. If I could just fulfill it we could have a real chance. I won’t try to pretend I understand you and Spike, but I have come to see the champion that lives within him in the last few years. Maybe that’s why Dru sired him in the first place; maybe all of what we are was fated for you.”

Tears began to well up in Buffy’s eyes again, and she shook her head ‘no’, but he raised a finger to her lips, and pulled her to him again. “Promise me one thing, Buffy,” Angel whispered down at her, his fingers hooked under her jaw, tilting her head up towards his. Again he kissed her softly on the lips. “Promise me you will at least think about it.”

A tear slipped down her cheek and she leaned into his chest, resting her head against its silent hollow form. Even as she did it she knew it was a lie and she half expect that he too knew the truth, but just the same she nodded ‘yes’ against his chest. They sat in silence for a few minutes, his arms holding her tightly to him. Finally he released her and rose to go.

“Get some rest,” he whispered, and turning he headed out the main doors and into the hallway.

Buffy watched him go, another tear slipping down her cheek. Raising her hands she wiped away the remaining tears, and slid down off the table onto her feet. As she began to turn the doorknob leading back into Angel’s office she glanced back at the spot where he had just been. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the empty room, and turning she flipped off the conference room lights, and stepped back into Angel’s office.

-----

Jealousy welled up inside of him as Spike watched Angel kiss Buffy. Rising he stomped back to the wet bar and grabbing the bottle of Jack taking several long swigs. Faith just watched him silently from the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, the unusual crack in her tough-girl demeanor cause Spike to pause mid-swig. He blinked down at Faith for a second or two, before replacing the bottle and sitting beside her once again.

“I’m used to this,” he sighed, watching the two talking again. “Angel’s never been able to keep his lips off of what was mine.”

“Drusilla?” Faith turned completely towards him, snuffing out her cigarette on the arm of Angel’s couch.

Spike nodded again. “Dru was my destiny,” he half-smiled as he repeated the words he had believed for so long, “At least I used to think so. Funny how fickle lady love can be.”

“So then what’s B?”

“My soul,” he replied softly. “I mean I got the bloody thing for her in the first place, guilt and all.”

“Man, how does she do it?” Faith shook her head. Spike cocked his head at her in confusion. “How does she get you boys jonesin’ for her so badly? The girl should put out a self-help tape or something for the rest of us.”

Spike chuckled softly, grateful to Faith for her uncanny sense of humor. “I don’t know what it is,” he replied with a half-smile, “But once she’s in your blood she stays there forever.”

“Well it looks like she’s given lover-boy there the slip,” Faith nodded back towards the conference room as they watched Angel’s saddened face turn to leave. “Maybe things have changed.”

As Buffy moved towards the door, Faith rose to her feet. “Thanks for the smoke,” she tossed the cartoon back to him. “I think I’ll go for a little walk, do some catching up with some of my old L.A. snitches, see if I can’t flush out a bit more on our newest Big Bad.” Spike nodded, his eyes turning back towards Buffy who was now against the door looking back into the conference room. “Good luck,” Faith added as she left Angel’s office, closing the door behind her.

-----

“Was that Faith?” Buffy voice called out to Spike as she closed the door to the conference room behind her.

“Yeah,” he nodded rising to his feet and heading towards the door.

“You’re leaving?” she frowned, moving a few more steps towards him. “But it’s almost dawn. There’s nothing more you can do right now.”

“Not feeling all that chatty right now, luv,” he replied, his head slightly bowed, his eyes focused down at his feet. She watched him in confusion for a moment, her eyes moving between him and the conference room windows. Suddenly she understood.

“That wasn’t what you thought,” she began.

“Didn’t think it was,” he cut her off, still refusing to look at her.

“Then why are you starting with the jealous vamp routine?” she shot back, her hands firmly planted on her hips. She was tired. Willow was in trouble. There was no time for games and jealousy.

“There’s no routine here,” he sighed looking up at her at last. She was surprised by the surrender that she saw in his eyes. He looked tired, old, weary-worn. His otherwise piercing features were softened by sometime, some deep emotion. She wasn’t quite sure what it was but it almost looked like sad acceptance.

“Then what?” she moved a few more feet towards him, her voice softening.

He shook his head. He could be such a jerk, but he didn’t know where to begin. “You should get some sleep,” he finally replied.

“Only if you’ll stay with me, here,” she nodded towards the couch. “Please Spike.”

He sighed again. How could he deny her anything? With a nod of his head, he let his hand slip from the doorknob, and dropping his coat onto a nearby chair. He slumped down heavily onto the couch. Slowly she moved beside him and for a moment they sat in silence.

“Angel wants me to stay with him when the battle’s over, when the prophecy has been fulfilled,” her voice, soft and gentle, finally broke the silence.

“Figured he’d be serenading you sooner or later about that. Can’t say I don’t blame him; I mean this is what you two were after for so long.”

“Yeah, maybe at one time we both were,” she turned to look at him, “But now I have you and Angel needs to accept that.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Why Buffy? Why stay with me when you can have your true love?”

She reached out and took his hand in hers, her fingers entwining with his own. “Because I already have him,” she smiled coyly at him, her eyes soft with emotion. “Yes Angel was the first great love of my life, but it was no different then Dru was to you. They both hold pieces of our hearts that no one else can ever reclaim, but Spike you, you hold not just my heart but also my soul. The person I am, all of this,” she gestured to herself, “I found all of this, I grew to be this thanks to you, thanks to your strength, your faith, your unwavering love. You loved me, you believed in me when I couldn’t and what we have is something I am not willing to just toss away because of some prophecy. When I say I love you I mean it with all that I am.”

He squeezed her hand tightly, his eyes melting into hers. Finally he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. She snuggled down against his chest when he finally released her, his arms holding her gently to him, his chin resting against the top of her head. Closing her eyes she smiled to herself.

“Will you just stay here, now with me?” she whispered.

“Of course, luv,” he replied, kissing the top of her hair. Together they stretched out on the couch, Spike on his back, Buffy lying on top of him. Reaching up he pulled a small blanket down from the top of the couch and draped it over the top of her, before wrapping his arms around her small frame. Without another word the two of them drifted off into contented sleep.

-----

London, 1885

The screams of children mingled with the harsh winter’s wind. Stealthfully he moved through the first floor rooms of the large manor. He could hear Dru and Darla laughing with delight above him, the sound of their footsteps and laughter followed by a choking scream. How the ladies enjoyed playing mothers. He continued to move forward towards the large library. He could hear the muffled cries of one being tortured and the tears of a woman being forced to watch. He knew even as he entered the room that it was a scene that even many demons would have trouble stomaching, but then again, when Angelus had his fun he never cut corners, fingers perhaps, but never corners.

“Why Willie, come to share in the fun?” Angelus smiled up at him, his demon face smeared with fresh blood, the raped and broken body of a woman crying helpless to one side. Before him an older man, her husband sat, his hands bound above his head, his shirt torn open to reveal hundreds of small cuts, not deep enough to kill but just enough to cause incredible pain.

“Willie meet Mr. and Mrs. Sanford,” Angelus grinned. “Mr. Sanford here is a well-respected jeweler; finest silver I dare say. Darla loves his work. You might want to help yourself to some trinkets, give Dru a little something.”

He ignored Angelus, moving instead towards the man and lifting him roughly to his feet.

“Mrs. Sanford here is mighty glad to oblige a man’s needs. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking you for a ride, Willie.” Angelus continued on with delight.

“It’s William,” he growled, his eyes running over the man’s listless features.

“Forgive me, lad,” Angelus feigned injury before breaking out into wide grin. “Why don’t you finish of fine Mr. Sanford? I think I will deliver Mrs. Sanford as a gift to our beloved Dru,” he let his voice emphasize ‘our’ just long enough to watch William’s shoulders stiffen. With a soft laugh the older vampire grabbed the crying woman, and left him alone with the dying man.

“Please,” the man gasped, “Mercy, I beg of you. Kill me quickly.”

“And why would I want to do that?” William dropped him to the floor.

“Because I can help you,” the man groaned. “Untie my hands and I will show you.”

Curious William obeyed, freeing the old man but maintaining a tight hold on his arm. As quickly as he could the old man dragged his battered body to his desk and began fumbling with a locked drawer. Finally he managed to get it opened, and reaching in pulled out a small velvet pouch. “For your one true love,” he croaked, “That you might win her at last from that monster.”

Releasing the man from his grasp, William lifted the small bag in his hand and untying it, inverted it over his other open palm. Out fell a small ring, fashioned from silver it had been shaped into a delicate and intricately blooming rose, which held in its center a flawless diamond. It truly was a sight to behold, and William stood mesmerized by it for a few moments, but the sound of the dying man’s gasping breaths broke the ring’s trance and he quickly returned it to the pouch.

Reaching down he pulled the man back up to his feet again. “What makes you think I am not a monster?” he growled, unleashing the demon inside of him. With one smooth fluid motion he reached out and snapped the man’s neck, dropping his lifeless body to the floor; a painless, quick death. “Thanks, mate.”

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N:This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

---------

The last fading rays of the setting sun began to vanish behind the L.A. skyline. As the darkness settled in, her reflection grew brighter and brighter in the pane of glass before her eyes. She could see the others moving around the large conference table behind her, waiting, hoping. Finally she heard the sound of the door being opened and without having to turn around she watched Giles, Wesley, and Gunn pour into the conference room, their arms piled high with books.

“So what’s the final word, guys?” she turned, her arms crossed across her chest; the general taking command once again.

“I think we’ve finally worked out the details of the ritual,” Giles replied, dropping his armful of books carefully down onto the tabletop. Pulling out his handkerchief he began wiping at his glasses. “I won’t lie to you; as a whole, it doesn’t look very good for Willow, but we think we’ve found a window of time to work with. From what we could find, the ritual is set to take place tonight at midnight as we originally though. Whoever this Avatar is, he will be using Willow and the magic within her as the conduit through which he’ll release the four horsemen on the world. The essence of the horsemen are enclosed in four sacred jars, similar to the canopic jars that ancient Egyptians used to preserve the major organs of those mummified. According to the ritual, the Avatar must recite a specific chant before breaking each jar. As each jar breaks, the essence of the horsemen released will enter into Willow through her blood: first Conquest, then War, Famine, and finally Death. Each horseman, once inside Willow, will feed off of her blood and powers, until finally Death kills her, unleashing four corporeal horsemen.”

“Our best chance,” Wesley continued, “is to prevent the Avatar from breaking the last jar and freeing Death. Without the last horsemen the other three will be trapped within Willow.”

“Will that kill her?” Xander asked with baited breath.

“It won’t be pleasant for her,” Wesley sighed, “but, no, it won’t kill her. The ritual is contingent upon all four horsemen being released at the proper time in the proper order. If after one hour all four are not released the ritual is over and those that have been freed can be re-sealed by repeating the same chant backwards.”

“So we just keep this Avatar busy for an hour and we’re home free?” Faith nodded stretching her back lazily. “Sounds like my kind of a battle.”

“Ok so our main priority is keeping that last horsemen in his jar,” Buffy chewed at her lower lip. “Any ideas on what we’ll be up against as far as minions?”

“Only what Angel and I scouted the other night,” Xander shrugged. “Looks mostly vampire, but we did see a few humans, or maybe demons in disguise. Nothing we can’t handle I imagine.”

“How about entrances?” Buffy shot back.

“From the schematics the guys brought back, we’re looking at one front and one back entrance to the building itself. But according to the map the ritual will most likely take place in the basement vault, in which case we are talking about one entrance only through a trap-door in the main warehouse floor,” Gunn replied, flipping between several schematics.

“So three main doors to watch,” Buffy muttered to herself, a plan formulating in her mind. “Ok here’s how it’s going down. We go in through the front and back doors: Faith, Giles, Gunn and Angel you guys take the front. Spike, Wesley, Kennedy, Xander, and I will take the rear. Once inside we need to neutralize any guard dogs as quickly as possible. We are only going to have one chance to take them by surprise. Giles I want you, Wesley, Xander, and Gunn covering our entrance and escape through the trap door. I’ll need two of you up in the warehouse above and two of you just below with us in the basement.”

“Gunn and I will take the warehouse floor,” Giles replied.

“Ok, Xander you and Wesley have our backs in the basement then,” Buffy nodded. The sound of clock chiming 7:30 pm reminded everyone of what little time they had left, and Buffy quickly pressed on. “Faith, Angel, Spike, Kennedy, and me will take care of any road blocks downstairs before dealing with the Avatar straight on. Is there anything else we need to know about him or the ritual?” She glanced sidelong at Giles and Wesley.

“Just make sure to stand clear of the horsemen when they are released,” Wesley replied. “If their essence touches you, you will fall victim to their powers whichever they may be.”

“Ok, good safety tip,” Faith smirked. “Thanks, Wes.”

“Oh, by the way, Blue’s willing to join the fray,” Spike’s voice rumbled out of the shadows he was leaning into in the far corner of the room.

“Pardon?” Giles raised an eyebrow at him.

“Illyria?” Wes looked back at Spike evenly. “I’m impressed you were able to arrange that one.”

“Well I think the little shelia’s been itching for some action for quite awhile now,” Spike shrugged. “Call it a hunch.”

“Are you sure we can trust her?” Giles replied uneasily.

“Oh don’t worry about Illyria,” Angel glanced from Wesley to Giles. “She’s a great asset in any fight. She’ll keep her word; if she says she’ll come, then she’ll be there.”

“Ok so that’s one more then,” Buffy interrupted. “Now let’s get moving. We need to have control of that basement before the ritual begins.” Quickly the group dispersed. Angel led Buffy, Faith, and Kennedy into a small room adjoining his office in the back.

“Your own personal arsenal,” Faith grinned, pulling out two light blades and twirling them in each hand. “Sweet deal you got going here, Angel.”

Angel helped himself to a long broad sword while Kennedy grabbed a crossbow, slinging a pouch of arrows over her shoulder. Glancing up from her blades, Faith noticed Buffy hadn’t picked up anything yet. “Nothing matches your shoes, B?” she teased.

“Nah,” Buffy smiled back, “I’ve already got what I need.” Turning she headed back out into Angel’s office and made her way over to her leather bag that she had discarded in the corner after her arrival. Untying and flipping back the flap of the main pouch, she pulled out her silver and red scythe. “I excalibured it so I might as well use it.”

-----

The moon was full as she stepped out the front door of Wolfram & Hart. She paused for a few moments looking up at the moon. It shone so brightly in the starless sky, a few wispy clouds dancing across its luminous face.

“Beautiful,” Angel murmured beside her. She turned to look at him. They hadn’t spoken since their conversation in the conference room and she couldn’t help but feel a few pangs of guilt over how she had handled things. Love was never easy. She smiled at him and nodded slightly.

He smiled back, so many words and feelings hidden in the darkness of his eyes. For a moment they just looked at one another then, almost hesitantly, he moved forward, following the others, leaving her to her thoughts. She watched him go, his strong broad shoulders bathed in moonlight. It would be a lie if she didn’t admit that she had thought about ‘what if’ with him. But that had been a long time ago and she had been a different person then.

He watched her watch Angel move away, watched as the distance between then grew with each step Angel took. For the first time he had to admit he didn’t feel any pangs of jealousy watching her with the older vamp. As he stood their watching her slim form glowing softly in the moonlight he was reminded of another time decades ago when he had watched Drusilla in the same manner. He had meant to make her his and only his forever that night, but even with Angel lost to his soul, he had found no relief from Dru’s wandering lust. He had realized it sadly as he watched her sway in the moonlight. She may have created him but it had been as a toy and though he did not doubt that she loved him, she could never love him in the way he hoped, so he had put away his secret, feeling its weight until this very moment. Reaching into his pocket, he felt his hand touch the small velvet pouch, and with a smile he moved towards her.

The touch of a gentle hand on her shoulder startled her, and she glanced up to find Spike staring down at her. His eyes moved between her and Angel but he said nothing. He squeezed her shoulder gently and moved a few paces forward.

“Spike,” she called out as she caught up to him. She should explain.

“Been meaning to do this for awhile now,” his voice startled her, “but every time something seems to get in the way,” he turned to face her, looking down into her eyes. “Was thinking about what you said before about you and me,” he continued a bit awkwardly, “and I suppose now’s as good a time as any,” he held out a small black velvet bag. “For you, luv.”

Buffy looked at him with surprise. A gift was the last thing she expected at a moment like this. Graciously she reached out and took the small bag in her hand. Slowly she undid the ties and tilted its open mouth over her outstretched palm. In a flash of light a small piece of metal fell through the beams of moonlight into her open palm. Gently she lifted the small silver ring in her hand. “Oh,” she breathed.

“Got it off of a bloke a long time ago, and been saving it for the right lady,” Spike plunged on; for a poet he could sometimes get quite flustered, “and I think I’ve finally found her.” He bit at his lower lip and looked nervously at her waiting for a reply.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed still transfixed by its simplistic elegance. “Thank you,” she looked up into his eyes and paused. “What does this mean exactly?”

“Doesn’t have to mean anything now, but when you want it to, it will be there.”

She smiled up at him and pulled him to her for a kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered again, as she slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand. For a few moments she just stood there staring down at it, watching it shimmer in the soft glow of the moon. Finally she turned and smiled up at him, “We’re going to win.”

-----

The streets around the warehouse were completely deserted, the dark dingy alleyways illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon that hung heavy in the sky above. Quietly, slowly, she made her way among the garbage cans and debris that lined the backside of the building. Behind her she could hear the others following her as quietly as possible, each straining to hear the first hints of trouble. But no sound came, only the soft whisper of a growing wind as it twisted its way up and down the alleys. Slowly she approached the back door, and pausing she counted to three before kicking it in. The rusty metal door flew off its hinges and clattered to the expansive floor of the warehouse with a crash. She stood, framed in the doorway scythe in hand, ready for the inevitable attack but none came. Slowly, cautiously she lowered her hands and moved through the doorway, the others on her heels. They made their way across the warehouse floor, moving in and out of shadows and patches of moonlight streaming in through the cracked and grimy windows above.

“That was too easy,” Gunn frowned as his form began to move into the light before her. The two groups met in a large patch of moonlight at the dead center of the warehouse floor, bodies tense, senses straining.

The massive room was unusually empty, two enormous industrial drums taking up the far corner, a string of rusted catwalks crisscrossing overhead. The muscles in Buffy’s shoulders flexed slightly as she turned cautiously in a circle. Two vampires and three full-blooded slayers; between the five of them someone would have to sense any attack. Seconds ticked by in silence, then minutes. Finally with a heavy sigh, she lowered the scythe and glance at Giles, “Looks like they all must be down below.”

Suddenly a series of blood-curdling cries broke the shadows and stillness around them, as hordes of vampires raced at them from all directions.

“Ambush!” Xander cried, raising the ax he carried and beheading two vamps in one swing. Their bodies dusted away mid-stride, spraying Xander in a cloud of sand.

A vampire with a long thick black ponytail slowly stalked in a large circle around Buffy. His clothes were old, out-dated, but his eyes were young and hungry. “Give us a kiss, slayer,” he hissed, a voice deep with a hint of southern accent.

His fingertips wiggled in the air, as he prepared to strike, his lips curling back revealing his fangs. With a deep growl he lunged at her but she sidestepped him easily, slashing down at his back with the back end of the scythe. She plunged the staked-tipped end deep into his back, cutting straight through his heart. He vanished in a rain of dust.

The sound of clashing steel and growls filled the air. Two large, beefy vamps raced at Spike from opposite directions. He just stood still, arms folded across his chest as they came closer and closer. Finally at the last moment he flung his arms outward, his palms open and flat. Two stakes concealed on thongs attacked to his wrists shot out along his open palms. The vampires met in a heap of dust at his feet.

“Dramatic much?” Kennedy raised an eyebrow at him, but before he could reply two more vamps leapt at her and she was forced to dive and roll to one side, firing her crossbow with deadly accuracy.

Within minutes the attack was over, and they stood once again in the center of the empty silent warehouse. “Nothing like a fight to get the juices flowing,” Faith purred as she wiped blood off her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Over here,” Wesley’s voice called out. “Gunn, I need help.” Together, the two men pulled open a large metal trapdoor in the floor.

“Now what?” Gun breathed heavily, his breath still coming in ragged gasps.

“Now we finish this,” Buffy replied, her voice even and cold. “Everyone knows what their doing?” They all nodded in silence. “Good.” She glanced up a Giles, “See you with Willow when it’s all over.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. With a smile, she dropped down through the small hole.

---

“Quiet!” Buffy hissed, as Wesley dropped through the trapdoor with a thud, and Giles and Gunn secured it from above. For a moment they all stood together in silence taking in their surroundings. They were beneath the foundation of the warehouse in an earthen room no bigger than a closet. A hallway, or rather a tunnel through the red earth extended out before then illuminated by torches hung at intervals along the wall. There was nowhere else to go but down the tunnel.

Buffy nodded and Faith, Kennedy, Angel and Spike began to make their way slowly down the tunnel. As their figures disappeared around a sharp bend, Buffy turned back to Wesley and Xander. “You guys are our last line of defense. I’m counting on you to keep anyone from escaping and to watch our backs.” The both nodded, and with one final smile, almost regretful, Buffy turned and raced after the others. Now it ended.

After about five minutes of walking, the tunnel opened up into a large stone room. The gray stones that made up the walls, floor, and ceiling were ancient and worn smooth from years of feet moving across them. It must have been quite an active chamber. More torches hung in sconces along the walls, and at its far center a huge obelisk rose up to the ceiling like some giant lightning rod. It was larger than anything she imagined that they would find down in the bowls of the Earth, but all the same there it stood, its pointed top nearly touching the ceiling. It was made of some black polished stone, thick and strong, and was covered with thousands of ancient runes and hieroglyphic-type pictures. A small shaft of light fell down on it from above, bathing its top in the pale liquid light of the moon. Somehow the shaft must have connected to the floor of the warehouse, and threw it to the world above. All in all, it could be described as nothing less than a conduit, and bound to its smooth face was Willow.

“Will!” Kennedy cried, her eyes falling on the form of her beloved. She made to race forward, but Faith caught her around the waist, restraining her.

“Not yet,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “We wait for the welcome party.”

Buffy swallowed hard as she took in the broken and battered form of her friend. It was a hard sight to look at. Willow’s red hair hung long over her face, concealing her features in shadow. Her body was dressed in a low-cut long white gown, no doubt some sacrificial garment; there always had to be an official outfit for bloodletting. She grunted at the notion. They dress you all up in some elaborate and expensive looking gown so they can then make you bleed all over the thing. Religious rituals, it was something she would never understand.

The exposed parts of Willow’s chest and arms were covered in strange runes, carved into her skin. They appeared dark against her pale skin, but no blood flowed from them. Instead, thick dark-purple lines of clotted blood outlining them, indicating that they were at least an hour or so old. Her arms were tied loosely with thick rope cords above her, but high enough so she could not lower her arms below her head. Two long cuts ran from one side of her wrist to the other, and blood flowed freely down her arms. Even from where she stood, Buffy could tell they weren’t deep enough to kill her, at least not yet. They were no doubt just deep enough for the ritual. After all if Willow died to soon then there would be no point to the bloodletting.

“Show time,” Spike whispered to her left, snapping her attention from Willow.

She had been so transfixed by the horror of her friend’s form that she had tuned out the rest of the room. Slowly several vampires dressed in long gray robes moved out from the shadows along the sides of the room. Glancing back over her shoulder she watched as eight more shuffled in from hidden doors behind them; so much for the element of surprise. The vampires stalked towards them, teeth gleaming in the torchlight, their movements forcing Buffy and the others into a tight circle at the center.

“Ready B?” Faith smiled, her twin blades poised and shimmering in the torchlight.

“Wait!” a deep voice commanded from the shadows beside Willow. The vampires stopped moving, all eyes focusing on the shape that began to materialize to the left of the obelisk. A short stout figure dressed in a long flowing black robe, stood clutching four earthen jars, each topped with an ivory figure of a man on a horse. The Avatar. Gently the figure placed the jars around Willow’s feet. Willow’s head moved upward ever so slightly and a groan slipped out across her lips. “Soon dear,” the figure in black whispered to Willow, touching her chin ever so gently, almost motherly, with long bony fingers, “Soon the pain will be gone.” Willow seemed to nod in understanding, her head dropping back to her chest.

“Don’t touch her you monster!” Kennedy’s voice shrill and full of malice echoed off the stones that surrounded them.

“She won’t suffer long, if that is what you fear,” The dark void beneath the black hooded-robe replied.

“That’s right,” Kennedy, cried her face twisted with anger and hatred, “because you will be dead before you can lay a hand on her!” As if to punctuate her threat she fired an arrow straight at the figure’s heart, but the boney hand caught it with ease.

A deep sigh emanated from the Avatar. “I am sorry but her sacrifice is needed for the rebirth, for the end to all this suffering.” It gestured widely with its boney hands, still clutching the arrow tightly in its fist. “I feel your pain and I grieve for you and for her,” the hood glanced sidelong at Willow, “But it is not for you to understand right now,” the voice was like ice as it snapped the arrow in its hand.

“That’s rich,” Spike snorted, his voice caustic and smooth.

“Do not interfere. Your deaths would be meaningless here,” the voice was hard but deadly soft now. Yet there was something else in it, something softer, but Buffy couldn’t quite make it out. It almost seemed like weakness.

“Why then?” she pressed, her instincts telling her there was something more going on.

“As I’ve said,” the voice began.

“Yeah we know, ‘to end all this suffering’”, Faith interrupted making a mocking gesture with her hands. “But B makes a good point. What’s in it for you?”

That was Faith, always to the point, Buffy sighed inside. But her eyes never left the deep circle of black beneath the hood. Who was inside of the robes?

“I have my reason,” the voice replied, its voice cracking ever so slightly on the last word. And there it was, Buffy’s answer. In that split second she had heard it, grief, deep inconsolable grief and the fading strands of a woman’s voice. This figure, the Avatar was a human woman! The realization streaked Buffy’s face with surprise, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

“That’s it, let’s take this monster down now!” Kennedy growled, but Buffy placed a staying hand on her wrist. “She’s human,” Buffy replied quietly well aware that her voice would carry easily across the room.

“She?” Angel’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

Slowly the Avatar lowered its hood revealing the wrinkled, aging face of a woman. Her black hair was streaked with large patches of gray and had been pulled up in a tight bun behind her head. Her skin was tanned and taunt around her features, two deep opal-shaped eyes as black as the stone of the obelisk beside her shone dully out of her weathered face. She couldn’t be more than sixty but her eyes looked like she was about ninety.

“Bollocks!” Spike muttered, shaking his head. “Now I’ve seen bloody everything.”

A human was not what any of them had been expecting, or at least not a human working alone. And instead they were looking at the great Avatar, a brittle-looking old woman who commanded vampires no less. Something deeply human shone in her eyes and Buffy swallowed hard. There was a reason behind this madness and she had to try to reach her. Maybe, just maybe this all could end with little or no bloodshed.

But before Buffy could speak the woman spoke, “Do not underestimate me or my powers, slayer.” She spoke directly to Buffy ignoring the others. It was as if she could read her thoughts. “Oh I know very well who you are, all of you,” her dark eyes moved from one to the other. “I know what this girl means to you, but I will not let you stop me. The ritual will be completed and this planet will be purged!” Her voice was gaining in volume, her face flushed with rage. She spat out the last few words like they were poison, her voice shrill and unsteady; vengeance smoldered in her eyes.

“So be it,” Buffy whispered sadly. For a moment her gaze held the burning eyes of the Avatar, but with a cutting motion the woman unleashed her minions upon the group.

The first wave of vampires fell on them with guttural growls, teeth flashing in the torchlight. But the five of them worked together, their backs forming a tight circle, as they took the creatures down one by one. Soon they were again standing alone in the center of the room, each gasping for air, sweat trickling down their foreheads. The first wave had been fairly easy, but somehow they all knew it would only get harder.

“Impressive,” the woman cooed, she now held one of the jars in her hand. The figure on the top of it showed the man on horseback with his arm outstretched, his hand holding the severed head of a man.

“Conquest,” Angel whispered.

Before they could move a new wave of vampires fell upon them and they were embroiled in battle once more. Over the sound of cries, growls, and groans Buffy could hear the Avatar beginning to chant.

“Kennedy! The jar!” Buffy cried, as a vampire grabbed her from behind and sent her sailing into the far wall.

Kennedy whirled and aimed her crossbow, but a female vampire with short blonde hair tackled her to the ground before she could get the shot off. “Get off of me, bitch!” Kennedy cried as the vampire sunk its nails into her arm, blood pouring in long streams down her forearm. The vampire knocked her onto her back and leapt on top of her, pinning her at the waist with its knees. It let out a lustful purr; its hands gripping Kennedy’s shoulders as it leaned down to bite. Quickly, Kennedy grabbed the vampire by the back of the head with one hand and began to slam her other fist into its face, her feet flailing wildly at the nearby wall, trying to get some leverage, her knuckles getting cut on the creature’s fangs. Finally Kennedy was able to brace herself properly and with an angry cry she flipped the vampire off of her and over her head. The vampire hit the ground and rolled stopping right at Faith’s feet.

“So not your night,” Faith winked, slicing the demon’s head of with her two blades.

With a swing of her scythe Buffy took down two more vampires at once, and moved a few feet closer to Willow and the obelisk. She could hear the woman still chanting and the Avatar now stood directly in front of Willow the jar raised high above her head. For a split second Buffy swore she could hear Willow’s voice in her head.

“Buffy, please,” the voice echoed in her mind, Willow’s life force dancing tangibly before her eyes.

Without a moment of hesitation, Buffy made a break for Will, racing full speed forward, her scythe clutched close to her body. But just as she stretched her body forward in preparation to leap upon the old woman’s shrunken form, a vampire grabbed her by the ankles from behind, and she slammed hard onto the stone floor. She rolled quickly to her side, tasting blood in her mouth, and in one fluid motion flung herself back up to her feet. She moved from foot to foot in place tentatively, watching her assailant move closer and closer, until suddenly she was startled by the feeling of body against her back. Turning slightly she was pleasantly surprised to find Angel’s back against hers.

“We need to get that jar!” she yelled to Angel over the din of the battle. He nodded, but before either of them could move the sound of breaking pottery froze them in their tracks.

Her heart pounding in her ears, Buffy watched in horror as a thick gray cloud began to rise up out of the pieces of broken pottery at the Avatar’s feet. Slowly it circled upward, and the woman moved carefully out of the way as many of the vampires began to do so as well. The cloud began to consolidate into a tight orb just above Willow’s head, spinning faster and faster until suddenly it exploded in a wave of yellow light, expanding out toward them.

“Watch out!” Angel cried, his body pushing Buffy down to the stone floor as the wave washed over them. He grunted as it hit him in the back and he toppled over Buffy, his body skidding across the floor into the far wall. A storm seemed to have been suddenly unleashed within the chamber as wind crashed around them.

Through her hair, Buffy could make out the center of the gray cloud, now pulsating with an eerie yellow light. Slowly it drifted down towards Willow and then plunged into the long wounds across her wrists. Willow’s body shook as if an electric shock was pulsating through it and her head slammed back against the face of the obelisk, her eyes rolling back in her head. The yellow light seemed to move down through her arms just beneath the skin, finally settling in her heart. Willow’s eyes flew open and she screamed in agony.

“Willow!” Kennedy sobbed, scrambling to her feet as the wind died down. She stumbled forward, anger and tears blinding her. She fired two more shots at the Avatar before a vampire tackled her to the ground.

As Willow’s screams died down, her head lolled back against her chest, and a new wave of vampires washed over them. Scrambling to her feet, Buffy sent a charging vamp flying into the wall with a roundhouse kick, her eyes searching for Angel. Had he been hit by the shockwave? She glanced around frantically; if he was hurt it was because of her. A new wave of adrenaline pumped through her veins as she spotted his form slummed against the far wall.

“Angel!” she called out to him, but before she could make her way over to him she heard chanting again. This time the horsemen carved at the top of the jar held out an outstretched sword. No doubt about it, the Avatar was preparing to unleash War.

Again she tried to push forward to get to the woman, to destroy the jar, and once again she was pushed back. The vampires seemed to be concentrating in a half moon circle just in front of the Avatar. They understood the importance of the ceremony and of Buffy’s need to get to the jars. She glanced sidelong to her left where Spike was having an unusually tough time with two large vamps.

The two vampires were at least six-eight each, their necks nearly the size of Spike’s waist. They must have been body-builders in their former lives. One of them, a red spiky haired demon dressed in a black tank top, had Spike pinned by his neck against the wall. The other was circling to his left, a stake in his hand ready to strike.

The red-haired one was laughing in Spike’s face. “You’re going to pay for killing your own kind,” he grinned a mouthful of yellow broken teeth.

“He’s not your kind,” Buffy growled from behind. Surprised the red-haired vampire turned as she plunged the stake-end of her scythe through his heart. Spike hit the floor followed by a large cloud of dust. The second vampire, the one with the stake, grabbed Buffy from behind in a bear hug, his breath cold on her neck. She kicked her feet desperately in the air, slamming her head into the side of his face to keep him from her neck, but he was just too strong and Buffy braced herself for the pinch of his teeth.

“I’d appreciate you letting go of my lady!” Buffy felt the vampire’s body stiffen behind her as his head slid off over her shoulder, followed by a rain of dust. Turning she found Spike panting, her scythe in hand. “You alright, luv?”

She smiled slight and nodded, her hands rubbing at her throat. She opened her mouth to thank him but the look on his face made her blood run cold, and instinctively she turned in the direction of his gaze, back towards Willow and the Avatar.

“Oh god,” she whispered as she watched the second jar crash to the floor. A deep red cloud began to snake its way upward this time, mimicking the spinning motion of Conquest. With a loud explosion, War unleashed its shockwave of red forcing them to dive to the floor as the very room around them shook with the violent force of the horseman’s essence.

Again Willow’s body shook violently as the cloud followed her blood to her heart, her head thrown back in waves of agony. Suddenly fresh wounds began to appear across her body, the sound of gunshots could be heard followed by bloody holes appearing on Willow’s chest and stomach. Invisible swords slashed at her body and gown, leaving her body bloody, draped in ripped cloth. War had fallen down upon Willow.

“No! Stop!” Buffy found herself screaming. But as Willow’s cries died down the blood from the wounds seemed to vanish, her torture momentarily over as War joined with Conquest within her body.

The fading wave struck two unsuspecting vampires in the back sending them flying forward. Slowly the two got to their feet and leapt at one another, tearing each other apart with their bare hands until they lay in bloody heaps on the floor, their bodies barely bodies anymore.

“Good safety tip indeed,” Faith murmured remembering Wesley’s words to avoid the shock waves. With a flick of her wrists she beheaded the two shredded vamps, an oddly humanitarian act.

“The sides,” Buffy cried out to the others, as Faith moved back into the fray; the vampires moved towards them again. “They are weakest along the flanks!”

Instantly Faith and Spike began to inch their way along the left side, picking off one vampire at a time. Kennedy, still too blinded by her anger and love was slamming into the middle of the line with everything she had. Instinct told Buffy to call out to her; the young slayer was liable to get herself killed, but there was no time to argue with her. Kennedy had made her choice and her fate was in her own hands now. The right side was open for her…for her and Angel.

“Let’s finish this,” his voice was so close it made her jump. She hadn’t seen him get up but there he was by her side, sword in hand.

“You all right?” she eyed him carefully, a big ugly looking gash crossing his smooth forehead.

“Never been better,” he replied in his normal, even monotone. “Ladies first,” he gestured with his hand.

She shot him a brief smile, “Just like old times.”

“Always said I’d have your back,” he grinned from behind her as she raised her scythe ready to strike the first vampire in her path.

But the strike never came. Instead the scythe fell with a clatter to the ground, her hands gripping the pointed blade end of the broad sword that stuck out through her stomach. She stared down at it, her mouth hanging open ever so slightly. The battle around her seemed to have slowed down, figures fighting and dying in slow motion, the harsh sounds of the fight felt so very far away. All she could was stare at the bloody blade, watching blood slowly seeping down her shirt covering her hands in her own blood.

“Buffy!” Spike’s voice carried over the fading din of the battle. She blinked at the look of horror on his face, the same look she saw mirrored on Faith’s and Kennedy’s. The world was definitely slowing down, the sound fading to a soft din. Above it all though she could hear the soft chanting of the Avatar; the third jar, Famine, clutched in her boney hands.

She felt Angel’s body move in closer to her, his hands grasping the hilt of the sword and pushing it further through her body with a wet sucking sound. She heard a scream and slowly it dawned on her that it was her own voice. She dropped heavily to her knees, the blood flowing quickly now, her shirt and jeans bathed in red. It was strange but she felt no pain, at least not yet, her body still in shock. She turned her head slightly looking up into Angel’s eyes. “Angel?” she whispered hoarsely.

He grinned down at her, a wicked satisfied grin. “Sorry Buff, nothing personal,” his lips slipped back exposing his fangs.

“Angelus,” she whispered. It was more of statement then a question, and suddenly it all made sense. He had been hit with the euphoria of Conquest’s wave. Angel was temporarily gone, and now Angelus stood in his place.

“It was nice seeing you again, Buff,” Angelus chuckled, his hands griping the sides of her head, preparing to snap her neck. But the snap never came. Rather Buffy watched, as if in a dream, as Angelus’s body flew across the room and slammed into the far wall with such an impact that a large segment of it crashed down on top of him, burying him in rock.

Buffy fell forward, her eyes watching the floor rush up to her face, but suddenly strong arms were encircling her, holding her. She felt her body being turned on her back. Looking upward she found herself looking into piercingly blue eyes. Spike. And behind him the strikingly blue form of Illyria looking quizzically down at her, before glancing back at her handy work, Angelus’s unconscious form.

Buffy stared up at Spike. She opened her mouth to speak his name, but he pressed a finger to her lips, “Hush now, luv,” his voice was soft and gentle, tinged with fear. “Don’t move.” He laid her head down gently, the soft leather of his jacket balled up behind her head.

“The wound is mortal,” Illyria’s voice poured like silk over her.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Spike replied, his eyes still fixed on Buffy’s face as his hands tentatively touched the wound.

She reached down for the sword, but his hands stopped her. “Got to leave it in for now, pet,” his eyes were soft with emotion. “Only way you won’t bleed to death.” She blinked at him, her head turning to look at Willow. The Avatar was about to smash the third jar.

“Will..,” she choked.

“Spike!” Faith cried out, the vampires were beginning to over-run her and Kennedy.

“Protect her,” Spike looked up at Illyria from his crouched position beside Buffy, his eyes saying more than his mouth ever could. The blue demon nodded at him. His eyes met Buffy’s one last time, fear turning them from their brilliant blue to a muted gray. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, before racing forward carrying her scythe in his hand.

Buffy watched through an almost dreamlike state as the third jar broke and Famine entered into Willow. The young sorceress’s body spasmed again as black pustules and sores broke out all over her exposed skin, just like the haunting images that had appeared to her one the plane flight to L.A. With each agonizing wail the plague ravaged Willow’s body until the three horsemen became one within her.

The room was beginning to shake violently now as she watched the Avatar begin to move towards Death, the fourth and final jar. She watched through staring eyes as the others fought their way closer and closer to the obelisk, to Willow, but just as quickly they were thrown back. They were never going to make it in time. And then she remembered Illyria.

Glancing up at the unworldly form above her, Buffy was surprised to find her staring back down at her. After the way she had handled Angelus none of the other vampires seemed eager to tangle with her, and so she stood alone, hovering over Buffy.

“Spike,” Buffy gasped, her voice soft and grating. It would take every ounce of her strength to get her message across to Illyria. “Help him.”

Illyria cocked her head to the side and Buffy sucked in deep breath preparing to argue with her. But instead the strange woman nodded and strode forward. Obviously the sight of mortal death did not fascinate her as much as Buffy thought it might. Illyria cut a path through the vampires with ease, bodies flying all around, and Buffy smiled slightly to herself. She would have to remember to thank Spike when it was all done with for recruiting Illyria.

“Bout time Smurffette joined in,” Faith smiled, her face covered with blood and grim. Only a handful of vampires stood between them and Willow, but the Avatar had begun to chant again and there wasn’t much time. Together the four moved forward.

“We’ve got to destroy the jar before she does!” Kennedy cried, slamming her body full force into a large male vampire. “We have to keep it out of Willow’s blood.”

Suddenly Spike’s head snapped up as it all suddenly dawned on him. He glanced over his shoulder at the slumped figure of Buffy watching them from the floor. Their eyes met and he suddenly knew what he had to do. It was so simple; right there before his eyes all along.

Buffy realized what was in his eyes and hers grew wide. She rolled slightly to her side, the sword tip still dripping with her blood, grated softly across the stone floor. With shaking hands she reached out towards him, the ring on her middle finger glittering in the torchlight. She had to stop him. That wasn’t the only way.

Without a backwards glance he raced forward and dove over the top of the last few vampires. Hitting the ground with his shoulder he rolled to within a few feet of the Avatar just as she released the last jar from her hands. He moved with lighting quickness towards Willow, away from the Avatar and the jar. With a cry, he swung Buffy’s scythe with all his might at the cords that bound Willow to the obelisk, snapping them easily, sparks flying into the air as the metal of the scythe’s blade met the smooth rock of the obelisk. Willow’s body fell limply forward into Spike’s waiting arms as the last jar shattered across the floor.

“No!” the Avatar raced forward at Spike, her nails scratching at the air as a black cloud began to rise out of the fragments of the final jar. He turned his back, prepared to sacrifice his body in order to shield Willow from the woman’s attack but Faith got their first, sending the woman flying into the wall with a dull thud.

The Avatar’s hair hung wild about her head as she lay panting on the floor, Faith staring down at her. As the black cloud began to grow thicker over head, the Avatar let out a deep bone-chilling laugh, “It begins,” she cackled, her eyes staring up at Faith through long strands of black and gray hair.

“We have to get Willow out of here!” Kennedy cried as the room began to shake and the violent wind began to pick up again.

Spike looked down at Willow’s tortured and weak form in his arms. She barely weighed anything. He glanced from the Avatar to Kennedy to Faith to Illyria to Buffy. Something inside him told him running was not going to save any of them. There was only one thing he could think to do, and he had no other choice.

“Get out of here!” He cried at the others, as rocks began to tumble down about them, an inner light beginning to illuminate the black cloud as it prepared to explode.

“What! No!” Kennedy cried, tears in her eyes. She began to stagger towards Spike but Faith caught her in her arms, dragging her towards the door. Kennedy kicked Faith in the stomach, escaping from her grasp only to find Illyria in her path. Without a word Illyria whacked the young girl across the face with the back of her hand knocking her unconscious. Scooping her up in her arms, she began to head for the door. The remaining vampires quickly followed suit, fear leading them to abandon their master as they scrambled over one another. Faith bent to pick up Buffy, but the floor buckled under her feet as the cloud let loose its fury in a bone-shattering explosion, and she tumbled over backwards as the ceiling caved in on top of her.

Glancing down at Willow, Spike could feel her nestle closer to his chest, her left bloodied wrist hanging limply over his arms. He could feel the electricity and cold breath of death emanating from the black cloud as it began to move towards Willow, the three horsemen already within her calling out to it.

Behind him the Avatar let out high pitched laugh, her hair and cloak spinning wildly around about her in the crushing wind. “You are too late!” Madness flashed in her eyes as her hands clawed the air above her head. It was now or never.

“Forgive me,” he whispered to Willow. Closing his eyes he unleashed the demon within him and sank his fangs into Willow’s neck. She moaned in pain, her hands coming up pushing against his face. His soul cried out within him to stop, to let her go, but the demon tasted blood and he could not stop the rush of desire that filled him. With a deep breath he began to feed.

Her body convulsed in his arms, terror running thick in her veins. The taste was all that more tantalizing and he pressed down harder on her neck, streams of blood slipping out through his lips. Desire rose up inside of him hot and carnal, and he felt his body giving in. No, no he wasn’t like that any more; he didn’t take pleasure in the kill. He needed something to ground him, and opening his eyes, he forced himself to focus on Buffy, the vision of her keeping him from giving in completely.

Buffy stared back at him through the clouds of dust and debris that were falling down around her. Above him the black cloud began to move towards Willow’s open veins, slowly creeping in, Willow’s body shaking violently again as the blackness moved towards her heart. A scream of pure terror and pain escaping her lips, and with a wave of fear Buffy recognized it as the scream from her vision. But before the blackness could reach Willow’s heart and combine with the others, Buffy was surprised to find the other lights, the other essences of the first three horsemen moving out of her heart and into Spike! With pain she watched him shudder as his body began to glow, first yellow, then red, then the green of Famine, but still he drank. Finally the black of Death passed complete over Willow’s heart, her body going limp in Spike’s arms, and finally into him.

A red light began to illuminate all the runes on the face of the obelisk and light like lasers shot out from its surface encompassing Spike and Willow. As the black of Death passed into him, Spike released Willow from his bite, his body convulsing and staggering back against the obelisk. Slowly he opened his eyes, his arms holding Willow tightly to him. The red light was now shining out of his own heart, the four horsemen combining within him, within his already dead heart. He glanced back at Buffy, her body blurred to him through the pulsating red light. Lifting up a hand he smiled weakly at her.

“Spike…Willow…” she tried to call out their names but her body was too weak and it came out as squeak, nothing more. The room was shuddering something awful now, as if the very Earth itself was being torn apart around them. She could hear the shrieks of the Avatar somewhere off to her left, the elderly woman finally realizing that she had failed. The horsemen were one, but there was no live sacrifice from which they could spring. No death to be had. She reached her hands again towards him, the red light shining out of him bathed her ring in the crimson light of blood. She saw him raise his hand. She saw him smile as the light within him exploded in a bright white ball.

She slammed her eyes shut to the light, the room around her rocking so violently she was sure she would be buried alive. Rock and sand fell about her and she coughed as it filled her nostrils and mouth. She could feel the puddle of her own blood congealing beneath her back. Her body was exhausted. As the world crashed down around her she gave into the darkness and faded away her last conscious thoughts were of him.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N:This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

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She was cold, so cold she couldn’t feel much of her body. Instinctively she pulled her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapping around her legs tightly. Her fingers were like icy blades against her naked shins. In the far recesses of her mind she felt herself wondering where she was, an unconscious desire to open her eyes.

“No,” she whispered weakly to the cold, squeezing her eyes closed even harder. She would not open them; she did not want to know where she was.

“Buffy,” a voice danced through her hair, a breath cutting a warm path across her frigid cheeks.

“No!” she hissed again, this time a bit louder, her hands balled in tiny fists. “I don’t want to!”

“Buffy,” the voice called again and she felt something deep within her stir. The desire to obey, to reach out to the voice and its inviting warmth grew stronger. She squeezed her fists so tightly she was sure her nails were drawing blood from her palms.

“Please stop,” she breathed, her voice shaking with the promise of tears.

“Buffy,” the voice was closer now, gentle yet commanding. She could not resist it and slowly she felt her eyelids lifting, her lashes parting. But there was nothing there; she lay naked floating in a black abyss, the darkness so tangible she was convinced she could reach out and wrap it around her like a blanket. Was this death? She didn’t remember it happening it like this last time, but maybe you were only allowed to die once and go to heaven. She had been there the last time, maybe now she could never go back. The thought made her shiver harder.

“Where are you?” she called out, her mouth and throat feeling thick, thick with the icy blackness. She closed her eyes tightly again, swallowed hard, and then opened them again.

The shattered, bloodied subterranean room stood once again before her. It was almost completely collapsed now, the obelisk crumbled about her feet. Moving slowly forward she picked her way among the debris. “Spike? Angel? Faith?” she called out, her voice echoing back to her. What had happened?

As she pushed herself over the top of a large ceiling stone, she found herself staring down at the charred remains of the Avatar. The woman was no longer wearing her cloak, her body curled up onto its right side. Only half of the woman’s face remained unburned, a few singed gray hairs sticking out from the rest of her brittle-blackened body. Knarled fingers grasped at the remaining shards of Death’s jars, the flesh and muscle scorched away, leaving only charred bone. Her one undamaged eye stared upward, the peacefulness of death glazed over the once lively green orb. The smell of burnt flesh was overpowering and Buffy found herself dropping heavily to her knees.

She swallowed hard, wiping at her mouth and eyes with the back of her hands, the acrid biting stench stinging her eyes. Reaching out with shaking fingertips, Buffy closed the woman’s eye. “Who was she?” she whispered to the figure she felt standing behind her.

“Maria Lozano,” the voice she had heard in the darkness replied.

“Why did you bring me here?” Buffy sighed, pushing herself to her feet. Turning she stared into Whistler’s dark eyes.

“To apologize,” he replied.

“Let me guess, you feel guilty that you and the other ‘all-powerful’ beings didn’t see the real magnitude of this one. You saw apocalypse and figured for once you’d get off your damn cloud or horse or whatever and give us ‘mortals’ some help, a little scrap from your self-righteous table. But instead you underestimated this one or didn’t really see the full scope, so your hints and riddles in the dark did nothing more than give us a false sense of control, that we could handle this one no problem. Hell, you even practically promised Angel his humanity! But you were wrong, we all were, and people died.” Again her gaze fell upon the dead woman before her.

“I suppose I deserve that,” Whistler nodded, removing his hat and running his hand through his short black hair. “This one certainly falls on my shoulders.”

“I don’t blame you,” she replied quietly, “This wasn’t your call. This was mine.”

He frowned at her. “But, didn’t you just hear your own words? You were one hundred percent right the first time.”

Her eyes met his, hard and cruel. “Yeah I did but in the end I led them in. I made the calls and I live with the deaths; they rest on my soul, not yours. You’re above that, and we both know it. So stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

His head leaned slightly to the left, an eyebrow cocked up ever so slightly in an all too familiar gesture. She felt her breath catching her throat. Spike. Again she turned from his gaze, her eyes turning down to her hands, hands still red with dried blood. Tentatively she touched the large streak of blood that covered her shirt and jeans. “I should have been more cautious,” she stated, more to herself then to Whistler. “All of it, Willow’s screams, my blood, Spike, I saw it all in my vision, though I just never understood how it all fit.”

“Spike was unexpected,” Whistler sighed, replacing his hat on his head. “What I said before, about you having some power between you legs.” She shot him a dangerous look. “Well ok so the comment wasn’t appropriate but the sentiment behind it was. You have something in you, kid, something so good and pure that you could bring someone like Spike back from the edge. Call it what you will, but that is something none of us up there have ever seen before. I swear between that and you unleashing all those slayers upon the world, you are one wild card that I can never guess.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Buffy smiled slightly, her eyes flittering back to Maria’s form. “Why did she do it?”

“Why do any of you mortals do what you do? Life led her to this.”

“You’re saying she just decided that things were so bad the world needed to be destroyed? Come on Whistler, that’s a bit too much bullshit even from you.”

“Hey it is what it is,” Whistler shrugged. “How do you know what she went through?”

“I suppose,” Buffy frowned. “Enlighten me.”

“Let’s just put it this way, imagine the most horrible things that a human being could do to another, that a mother, that grandmother could see and endure being done to her children, to herself,” Whistler held her gaze, his eyes hard and grim. She swallowed hard, cold fingers of fear moving up the back of her body. “Now multiply that by a hundred!” Buffy could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end and she swallowed hard a few times. “As I said, life happened to Maria and it happened to her badly.”

Something glittered in the black ash at her feet. Reaching down Buffy lifted the object in her open palm. Standing back up, she found herself holding a small golden cross, its face pock-marked from the intense heat that had burned Maria’s body.

“Even faith can be turned to evil with enough suffering” Whistler’s voice answered Buffy’s unspoken thoughts.

“But you saw her,” Buffy frowned, still staring down at the cross, “she was someone’s grandmother, not some sorcerer. Whistler, I felt her power. It was borrowed. Someone had to have tipped her off to all of this.” She looked up at him again, her eyes filled with an urgency.

He reached out and took the cross from her. It was a simple crucifix. He turned it over in his hand with is thumb and forefinger. “Perhaps,” he replied softly. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She glanced back down at Maria but suddenly the woman’s form seemed oddly distant from her. Looking back up she was startled to find Whistler gone and the room around her growing darker and darker. “Whistler!” she screamed as she felt the icy blackness enveloping her again.

-----

Her eyes snapped open as her mouth gaped wide in a silent scream, her voice escaping in a raspy whispered wail. The world swam before her eyes, violently harsh and sharp; fuzzy dark shapes drowning in a painfully bright white sea. She rolled her head to the side, slamming her eyes shut to the brilliant lights around her, but it was too late. She cried out again as her retinas burned away, sharp stabbing pains shooting through her head. In desperation she tried to move her legs and arms to get away, everything inside of her screaming for her to flee, to make the pain stop, but her body refused to move. She was trapped, frozen in place while her body was torn apart from within. Again she screamed, her voice louder, shriller, as she thrashed her head from side to side. A loud high-pitched wail began to sound, sending shockwaves of pain through her ears. Tears of agony began to run down her face. Where was she? Was this hell?

Suddenly she felt something warm and hard pressing down on her arms, the same arms she couldn’t move. The sensation was painful, pins and needles crawling up and down the length of her skin. She tried to twist away but still she couldn’t make her limbs move, so again she screamed.

“Buffy! Buffy, it’s ok! Buffy!” a voice boomed loudly from above. At first the voice just added to the pain echoing through her head, but there was something in it, something familiar and gentle. Slowly she stopped thrashing, focusing on the sound of the voice.

Other voices bounced around her head, but the sharp sound of the wailing had stopped and the pain was lessening. Tentatively she tried to open her eyes. Again the harsh whiteness stabbed back at her, but as she blinked it began to fade. Her retinas weren’t burning after all, and with each blink the world grew less harsh, the fuzzy shapes taking on more form, until finally she found herself staring up at the white, sterile ceiling of a hospital room.

“Buffy, can you hear me?”

Again the voice, the soft familiar voice…of Giles. She turned her head and smiled up at his face all crinkled up with concern.

“Hey,” he whispered down at her gently, reaching out a stroking her hair with hand, his soft, warm hand.

“Gi-iles,” she croaked, blinking in surprise at how weak and dry her voice was.

“Shh, take your time,” he replied, lifting a cup of water to her lips and helping her drink from it. “Your body’s been through a lot. It’s going to needs some time to wake up.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him in confusion, but quickly focused her attention on the cooling liquid in her mouth. She gulped down four cupfuls before leaning her head back against her pillow. Her eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. She glanced sidelong at Giles. There was so much she wanted to ask but she felt her body over-ruling her will, her mind beginning to slip over the edge into sleep.

“Get some rest now,” Giles smiled down at her, as if reading her thoughts like the newspaper he had folded in his lap. And with the slightest of nods she gave into the black velvet of sleep.

-----

She awoke again several hours later, the long golden rays of the setting sun stretching across the white blankets of her bed. For a few moments she just looked around, taking in her surroundings, letting her memory recall exactly where she was.

“Evening,” a warm voice pulled her attention to her right. Turning she found Giles sitting exactly where she had left him. He smiled warmly down at her, but she couldn’t help but notice the bags pulling at the skin just beneath his eyes. A newspaper sat folded neatly in his lap, his glasses hooked through the breast pocket of his suit jacket; always the impeccably dressed intellectual.

“Hi,” she breathed back.

“How are you feeling?” he leaned towards her, the skin of his face painted golden in the setting sun.

“Been better,” she replied softly, still unsure of her own voice. “I feel so weak and I can’t seem to move my body much.” She frowned as she tried to move her legs but to no avail. Fear began to bubble up inside of her and she turned quickly back to Giles, “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing to worry about, really,” his face softened, his eyes clear and honest. “Your body’s been through quite a bit and it’s going to take some time for you to get control of your extremities back.” His face was genuine, too genuine, and she could tell there was something he was leaving out.

“Giles, what happened to me?”

He sighed then, removing his glasses from his pocket and rubbing at them with a handkerchief; his nervous habit. Bingo, she was on to something. After several seconds of compulsive rubbing he folded the handkerchief and the glasses back up, returning them to pocket and turned back towards her. “Buffy, you’ve been in a coma for three months now.”

She stared back at him in disbelief. Three months! “How?” the word escaped her mouth before her mind could wrap itself around how foolish it sounded.

“I’m not completely sure what happened to you down in the chamber at the end there. We were overwhelmed above and then next thing any of us knew the ground was caving in beneath us. I tried to get down to you but the passage way had caved in. I stood outside with the others and watched the building disappear into a giant sinkhole, watched it bury you, Willow, Angel, Spike, Kennedy, and Faith. Then we spotted Illyria. She was carrying Kennedy in one arm and Faith in the other. With her help we were able to locate you. I swear you were dead. You had lost so much blood,” Giles’s voice faltered and for a moment his gazed dropped to the white bed sheets that covered her. He swallowed hard before continuing. “Of course we rushed the three of you to a hospital as fast as we could, while Wesley found out what he could from Illyria. Faith and Kennedy spent less than a week in the hospital but there was very little they could do for you. We just had to wait, but I knew you’d come back to us.” He reached out a squeezed her hand gently.

“And Willow?” she said the words slowly, softly, her heart pounding away in her chest. Even as Giles prepared to reply she could feel herself holding her breath, afraid of what his answer would be.

“She alive,” he replied with a grin. “Strangest thing though, she was found two weeks later by the local police department, naked and unconscious in a park not too far from Wolfram & Hart.”

“But she’s alright?” Buffy pressed, her voice still tinged with the slightest hint of fear. If anything happened to Willow she’d never forgive herself.

“Yes and no,” Giles admitted his breath coming out in a heavy sigh. “Physically and mentally she’s the old Willow, but she’s suffering from a moderate case of amnesia, can’t seem to remember anything after high school graduation.”

“Oh no,” Buffy heard herself whispered. Poor Will. Suddenly the full extent of Willow’s injuries hit her square between the eyes, “Tara! Please tell me she remembers Tara!”

Giles’s adverted gaze was all the answer Buffy needed. “Oh god,” she whispered again. “She remembers nothing, not Dawn, not her powers, not even Kennedy?” Buffy’s eyes, her whole being seemed to plead with Giles to tell her that her fears were misplaced but all he could do was shake his head.

“Wow,” she shook her head, leaning back against her pillow, her eyes staring up at the white tile of the ceiling above her. “How’d Kennedy take it?”

“Amazingly well,” Giles replied, leaning backwards in his own chair. “She's been extraordinary with Willow.”

“So she remembers being…gay right?”

Giles chuckled softly to himself. “If I remember her exact words when Xander told her about her and Oz was, ‘Yeah, I suppose it makes sense we didn’t work. Come to think of it, I have a strong feeling that guys weren’t really for me. Did I ever tell you I think I’m gay?’”

Buffy smiled. Willow. “Did they tell her about Tara?”

“Yes, when Dawn came to visit her and Xander sat down and showed Willow all kinds of pictures and they told her every story they could think of. It really was a great thing. Kennedy’s been telling her stories too, always about Willow’s angel, Tara.”

“Poor kid,” Buffy mused. “She always be living and loving Willow in the shadow of Tara.”

“Perhaps, but I think Willow’s heart is big enough to love more than one person in her lifetime.” He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly and she caught it just out of the corner of her eyes. She had been so preoccupied with Willow’s fate that she had nearly forgotten. No, no she hadn’t forgotten she had just been preventing reality from really sinking in.

“Any word on Angel and Spike?” she finally asked it, and turning to face him she didn’t try to hide the fear in her eyes.

“Angel’s fine. He was gone for a few days, got trapped in the rubble and finally took refuge in an abandoned building nearby during the night until his wounds healed. There haven’t been any signs of Angelus since Illyria knocked him out cold. I think Conquest’s hold on him was only temporary.”

“Thank god for that,” Buffy nodded slightly closing her eyes.

“He’s been in to see you every night since he came back. Feels terrible about what happened.”

Again she nodded, suddenly acutely aware of the bandages that were wound around her stomach. She knew he would be feeling guilty; probably beating himself up extra hard over the whole thing. She’d set him straight the first chance she got to talk with him.

“Spike on the other hand,” Giles started, but she interrupted him.

“He’s gone, for good this time,” she whispered, her voice low and full of emotion. “I can feel it.”

“Ah I see. A slayer-vampire thing,” Giles nodded to himself.

“No,” she replied, turning and looking him directly in the eye. “A woman thing, a woman and the man she loves thing.”

Again Giles looked away from her, embarrassment creeping over his face, but his hand still held hers and slowly ever so slowly she was able to make her fingers wrap around his palm drawing his attention back to her. Her eyes stared up at him with such intensity, such emotion that he could do nothing but stare down into their emerald depths.

“I know you never trusted him, Giles, and I know you thought I was a fool for getting involved with him, but he truly was a good man, just like Angel. And I loved him.”

Now it was her turn to break from his gaze, tears slowly rising up in her eyes but she blinked them away. No crying, not now, there would be plenty of time for tears later, when she was alone. To her surprise she felt Giles squeezing her hand back and she turned towards him once more.

“I can be a stubborn man, Buffy, especially when I think I’m right, but I’m not too much of an old fool to not admit when I was wrong. I underestimated Spike, refused to see in him anything that you saw and I was wrong. If what Illyria and Faith have told me is at least half true then he saved us all single handedly, and that’s the second time I owe my life to him. And for that I will always be grateful to him and to you for not giving into my stubbornness and standing by him.”

Buffy felt a lone tear slip down her cheek and realized she’d been holding her breath. She squeezed Giles’s hand back. She suddenly felt overcome with gratitude, her heart almost bursting with it. There she sat having a much needed heart-felt talk with Giles and it was all thanks to Spike. Willow was alive, they all were alive, and the world had been saved and it was all because of him, all because of his sacrifice. She felt tears welling up inside of her and she swallowed hard to keep them from slipping out.

They sat in silence for a few minutes more, just enjoying the company of one another. Finally Giles rose, “You probably could use some more rest. I’ll be back in the morning and bring the others with me. I’m sure you’ll want to see them.”

“Thanks,” Buffy smiled up at him as he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She watched him leave, before turning back to her spot on the ceiling.

The sun had finally settled down behind the horizon, the last fading embers painting the sky in a softening red glow. A red glow. Without warning her mind began to wander back to her last few moments of consciousness in the underground chamber. Again she saw Spike wave good-bye; again she heard Willow scream and the world come crashing down around her. And the red glow of his body aflame reflecting in her ring. The ring.

Gritting her teeth she began to focus all her energy on lifting her hands from beneath the covers. Slowly, painstakingly so, she felt life returning to her slumbering limbs. After about twenty minutes of concentrating she had her hands folded across the blanket on her chest. There it was, the silver diamond ring he had given her over three months ago, shimmering on the middle finger of her right hand. Tears began to slip silently down her face. They fell one at a time a first but as she continued to stare into the shimmering face of the ring, its form began to swim before her eyes as a torrent of tears began to fall. Silently she wept for him, her eyes never leaving the small token of his affection encircling the thin form of her finger. Without a second thought, she pulled it from her middle finger and slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand; the finger reserved for marriage and true love. Squeezing her hands into fists she felt the cool metal of the ring pressing against her finger and felt the full weight of the emptiness in her heart. Tears streamed down her face until at last she fell into a dreamless sleep.

-----

When she opened her eyes again it was several hours later. Her best guess was early morning, maybe 2 a.m.; at least it felt like it was around two, the silence thick with slumber. She had sensed his presence even before she had opened her eyes, and her lips curled into a slight smile as she knew was she’d see standing before her when she opened her eyes. Sure enough there he stood, his large square frame, leaning against the far wall across from her bed.

“You better have flowers or donuts or something waking me up this early in the morning,” she teased gently.

He moved towards her into the moonlight, his dark hair and eyes tinged with silver in the twilight. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he replied is voice soft and low.

“Oh Angel, I’m just teasing,” she rolled her eyes. He could be so damn serious sometimes. Sometimes, no make that all the time. “You didn’t wake me up. After a 3 month coma I think my body wants to do anything but sleep.”

“How are you feeling?” He stood beside her bed, his body language embarrassed, unsure, like he was some gawky teenager getting up the courage to ask her out.

She resisted an urge to give him a hard time, and instead settled on an inviting smile. “I’m fine, really. Still can’t move my legs and arms real well, but the doctors say it will come with time.” She patted the bed beside her and finally after a few moments of hesitation he dropped down beside her. “So where are my flowers?” she teased again.

Her teasing worked and finally a smile broke out ever so slightly across his lips. “Was that a smile?” she gasped. “Are you ok? Would you like me to get you a doctor? Did it hurt?”

His smile widened and reaching over he took her hand patting it gently. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Hey me too,” she beamed. “And I don’t want you beating yourself up over it, alright?”

He opened his mouth to protest but she beat him to the punch, “Ok?”

He nodded.

“Good,” she snuggled in against her pillow again.

They sat in silence for a few minutes just enjoying each other’s company, before Angel turned back to her. “I’m sorry about Spike.”

She nodded, her eyes focused on the ceiling.

He sighed heavily, rising to his feet and moving towards her window, his eyes sweeping over the city, which lay sprawled before him; His city, the city of Angels… “I guess Whistler was wrong with his prediction about the Shanshu Prophecy.”

“I guess so,” she replied softly. “Angel, you know that doesn’t mean it still won’t happen?”

“I know,” he replied. “I’m just…”

“Disappointed?” she finished for him.

He dropped his head to his chest and nodded. Turning back to her, he leaned his back against the glass of the window. “I started thinking, dreaming again…about what could be.”

“I know,” she whispered softly.

He gazed at her intently now, his eyes staring through her body to her soul. “But those plans would have stayed dreams even if the prophecy had come true, wouldn’t they?”

And there it was. Angel had finally asked it point blank. If he had won his humanity back would she have chosen him? Would his humanity have made a difference, made her chose him over Spike?

“No,” she said finally, her voice strong but gentle, “I still wouldn’t have left him.”

“I think I knew that all along, but it was something I just had to hold on to,” he replied, turning back to the window.

“Angel, I’m sorry,” she called out to him. How she wished she could get out of the bed and go to him, hold him, make him understand.

“Me too, Buffy,” he glanced at her sidelong. “But I have to say, what you did for Spike, you helped to make him a true champion.”

“I wasn’t the only one who helped him,” she stared at his profile. He continued to stare out the window in silence. Somewhere down the hall an alarm went off.

“I think I should probably go,” he moved towards her again. “Before I go Whistler asked me to give this to you.” He held out a slip of paper. “He said you were right about the Avatar.”

“Whistler?” Buffy frowned up at Angel. She had been sure she had only been dreaming when she had last seen Whistler. Was it another vision? Or had he taken her subconscious somewhere else?

“Whatever it is Buffy, be careful,” he slipped the piece of paper into her open palm. Then impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips, before heading for the door. He paused for a minute in the doorway and turned back to her, “Just remember, I’m not getting any older.”

“I know,” she called back.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” and with that he disappeared.

She stared after him for several seconds, her thoughts on old memories of their time together. Finally she turned her attention back to the slip of paper, and carefully unfolding it she read:


B –

Your instincts were dead on. The powers were indeed borrowed. There is not much I can tell you but just be extremely careful. Those behind the attack on your friend are very much still actively seeking you out. If you wish to know more go to Salem, MA and seek out the mystic known as Sylviara. She should be able to help you. Watch your back, and once again nice job kid.

- W


Buffy re-read the note two more times before folding it up and slipping it under her pillow. She would show it to Giles when she saw him in a few hours. Leaning back she let out a heavy sigh. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. They had just survived one apocalypse and already a new threat was looming before her. Just another hazard of the job she supposed. Yet this time she knew it would be different.

This time around she would have no sorceress. Willow might still possess her powers but if she had forgotten all she knew then it would be like starting all over again for her, and perhaps this time around unleashing her full potential was something she should not do. Though her amnesia had taken away her memories of Tara, Buffy had quickly realized it had also freed Willow of the memories of her addiction, of the pain of Tara’s death, and her murder of Warren. Willow had been given a clean slate and this time around Buffy knew she would do everything in her power to keep her friend from having to go through those torments again. If she eventually recovered her memories that was one thing, and she certainly wouldn’t lie to Willow about what she couldn’t remember, but if push came to shove, in her heart Buffy knew she’d keep Willow from the fight. She owed her friend that much.

But more than the loss of Willow’s powers was the loss of Spike. She knew her grieving was far from over, and though she could feel his absence in her heart the true reality of it had not fully set in yet. She felt numb, cold to the truth of it, and for the moment she took pleasure its objectivity. She knew the tears would come, the pain would come, they always did, but that would be then. She knew in the end she would be alright. His faith in her and his sacrifice back in Sunnydale had given her the opportunity to learn just how strong she really was, who she really was, and she was a survivor. She had come back for him and though they had only had a year together in her heart if felt like much more. The hardest part she knew would be the battles without him, without his strength and confidence and dry humor. Whistler’s note was a sneak peek at her future and it was one that she knew she would face without fear because of him; her champion.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any of the characters. They are all the wonderful creations from the wacky mind of Joss Whedon, and I am only taking advantage of my love of the show to play with them for a little while.

Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”

Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^

A/N: This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.

Also the lyrics used in this chapter were taken from Sarah McLachlan’s “Do What You Have to Do”.

---------


She moved slowly through the graveyard, mist hanging heavy in the early morning air. It moved in thick steady swirling patches around her knees, hiding the ground from her view, cutting her body off at the shins. It was exceptionally cool for an October morning, and she pulled the collar of the leather trench coat she wore closer around her neck. The pale light of dawn was already illuminating the sky, trying to cut through the heavy San Francisco fog that hung like a shroud over the silent, sleeping world around her. The growing lights told her that her patrolling was over for the night and with a yawn she began to make her way back towards the world of the living.

She moved quickly despite the fog, her rapid pace, pumping blood through her extremities and helping to warm her semi-numbed fingers. For the most part she was alone in the waking dawn, the fog helping to further isolate her from the city that seemed to magically sprout up around her. But as the dawn came on full blast, she began to make out the faint sounds of early morning life.

It was around 6 a.m. when she finally found a diner open for business, and she dropped heavily into a booth off in the far corner. A plump woman with curly blond hair poured her a cup of coffee without a word. She placed her order before snaking her hands around the chipped porcelain of the coffee mug. She could feel the heat radiating into the palms of her hands and she smiled as she lifted the hot black liquid to her lips and took a long sip. It wasn’t the best coffee she’d ever had but it would serve its purpose and she drank with impunity. With a warm and contented sigh she placed the empty mug back onto the table and eased her way over to the window beside her table. She flopped her feet up onto the bench seat, and settled her back against the window.

The noise of a bakery truck pulled her attention towards the window and she turned her body sideways, as she rubbed at the pane with her fingertips. She watched quietly as two men began to off load racks of bread for the diner.

It had been nearly a year since she had helped to defeat the Avatar and a little over seven months since her release from the hospital. Yet despite all that time she had remained in the L.A. area for the most part. Of course Giles and the others had insisted she take some time off and so she had enjoyed a few weeks exploring L.A. with Xander, Dawn, and Giles. Shortly after Giles had returned with Dawn to London so she could start school on time, while she had remained with Xander, assisting Angel and Wesley with cases at Wolfram & Hart and visiting Willow and Kennedy whenever possible.

At first, Willow and Kennedy had rented out an apartment just outside of L.A. so Willow could still continue to see her doctors and keep in close contact with her friends. It was important that things remain as normal as possible for her, at least that’s what the doctors had kept insisting. The more normal, the more consistent Willow’s life remained and the more time she spent with her friends the more likely she would recover her memories. Nearly a year later and Willow still had not recovered one memory. It had been hard on her at times, hell it had been hard on all of them. She got frustrated and cried every now and then, but for the most part she remained positive. Willow, the little trooper to the very end. Yet through it all Kennedy had stayed by her side much to Buffy’s surprise. Never once did she complain, never once did she show the least bit of pain when Willow admitted to not remembering something about their life together. She was a rock for Will and Buffy couldn’t help but be in awe by the lengths Kennedy would go for Willow. In fact, Kennedy’s number one priority was helping to keep Tara’s memory alive. Instead of trying to hide it Kennedy was quite up front about how much Willow had loved Tara and that was something they all had come to admire greatly about Kennedy’s devotion.

After half a year, however, Willow had grown restless and Kennedy and her had decided to move up to San Francisco. Xander too had eventually left, heading back to Africa, but still Buffy had remained. Her relationship with Angel had improved and they had finally truly settled into the “just friends” roles. Time passed and it became clear that she was not needed in L.A. anymore but still she could not bring herself to leave. Everyone knew why she was hesitant to go; deep down in her heart she too knew the truth, but still she played ignorant. Every night her patrols would take her past the same spot, her feet always moving back and forth through the rubble.

It had been one moonless night about a week ago when she had finally admitted to herself why she was staying. Somewhere in the recesses of her heart she was still clinging to the fantasy that he would rise from the ash and she would find him. They would be together again. But each night she left Wolfram & Hart alone and returned each dawn alone. No amulets arrived in the mail. No ghostly apparitions came waltzing down the office hallways. No, Spike was gone and this time he was gone for good. She could still feel the part of her heart that had broken when she had finally admitted it to herself, when she had finally given up the last bit of hope, the unconditional hope that true love clings to. It was then she knew she had to leave, to move on.

She had said her good-byes to Angel and the rest of the gang, before heading up to San Francisco to spend some more time with Willow and Kennedy. It had been a nice week, full of good conversation and late night fun on the town. It was good to see Willow and Kennedy so happy and Buffy had taken comfort in her friends’ joy. If only she could find that feeling again.

The gentle clank of her plate being slid in front of her brought her back to reality, and she thanked the plump waitress with a smile and a nod as the woman refilled her couple and then hurried on to the next customer. It was just about 6:30 and already the place was starting to bustle. 6:30 a.m. She had five hours before her flight, before she left California behind her.

Her stomach growled and she eagerly leaned over her plate, happily gobbling down her food. Patrolling, whether it ended in a staking or not, always left her starving. She polished off her plate in less than 15 minutes and sat quietly sipping her new cup of coffee. She had always loved those first few moments after eating a filling meal, her body reveling in a happy contented food induced coma. She closed her eyes and breathed in the strong scent of the coffee in her hands, the steam curling up around her nose and over her lips. Smiling slightly she downed the remainder of the cup in one large gulp and placed it gently down on the table before her. Reaching into the main pocket of her battered brown leather backpack, she retrieved several crumbled bills. Carefully she counted them out, slapped them down on the tabletop, and began to make her way through the throngs of business men and women vying for her now open table and for that first cup of coffee.

Out on the street, she hailed the first cab she saw. A small friendly looking Asian woman, rolled down the window of the cab, “Where to miss?”

“San Francisco International Airport,” Buffy replied as she opened the back door of the cab and pulled the door closed behind her. Unshouldering her bag, she dropped it to the seat behind her and began to fish through it for her tin of breath mints. She popped a piece into her mouth just as the cab pulled away from the curb.

“Going to be a beautiful day,” the woman grinned at her in the rear view mirror. Buffy just smiled politely back as she watched the scenery move past her window.

“Do you mind if I put the radio on? Some people don’t like music early in the morning so I like to check first,” the woman was staring at her again, only her eyes and the top of her nose visible in the thin length of the mirror.

“No that’s fine,” Buffy, replied, glancing quickly at the woman’s reflection and then back out the window of the cab.

The woman let out a happy little grunt, and flipped on the radio. Buffy paid little attention as the cab bounced its way through the streets of down town San Francisco, her mind a blank just staring at the world zooming by. Slowly though the first strings of music began to whisper at her ears, pulling her back to the warm cramped space of the cab. As the song faded, Buffy found herself acutely aware of the last few strings, her attention focusing on the relaxing soothing sounds of the Easy-Listening station the woman had settled on. With a smile, Buffy leaned back against the seat of the cab and let the music wash over her. Suddenly, she felt her body tense up as the lyrics of a new song began to pull at her heart.

What ravages of spirit
Conjured this temptuous rage
Created you a monster
Broken by the rules of love

Oh, god, Spike! She felt emotions she had worked so hard to suppress welling up inside of her again. Her monster, her lover, her champion.

And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do
And fate has led you through it
You do what you have to do
And I had the sense to recognize that
I don’t know how to let you go

Buffy felt a lump growing in her throat and she swallowed hard, trying desperately to turn her attention elsewhere. But the harder she tried the more it seemed the words were flowing into her, growing louder, echoing off the recesses of her heart.

Every moment marked
With apparitions of your soul
I’m ever swiftly moving
Trying to escape this desire
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do

Yes, she did yearn. She longed, she desire, she wished with ever fiber of her being that things could be different, that the world could be different. All those years and finally they had found one another again, only to be ripped apart after such a short time. How rapidly her heaven had become her living hell; how quickly death had snatched from her yet another person precious in her life, and how it hurt, how it burned.

But I had the sense to recognize
That I don’t know how to let you go
I don’t know how to let you go

“Spike,” she heard herself breathe, her heart pounding her chest. The cab suddenly felt very tight, very close. She quickly unzipped the long leather trench coat she wore; his leather trench coat.

A glowing ember
Burning hot
Burning slow
Deep within I’m shaken by the violence
Of existing for only you
I know I can’t be with you
I do what I have to do

It was too much! She could feel the walls of the car closing around her. She had to get out. She had to get away from the song, from its lyrics, from the memory of his touch that was haunting her.

“Please stop the cab,” she called out to the driver.

“Excuse me, what?”

“Please stop the cab now!” Buffy’s voice was growing hysterical now, her hands sweaty, wiping at each other in her lap.

“But I thought you wanted to go to the airport?” the woman’s review reflection glanced over Buffy’s obviously agitated form with wary eyes. Was this girl in trouble with the cops?

I know I can’t be with you
I do what I have to do

“Please, I need you to just stop the cab now!” she was on the verge of tears now.

“Miss…” the driver began.

“Now!” Buffy cried. “Please,” she muttered as an after thought. Without a word, the woman pulled over.

And I had the sense to recognize but
I don’t know how to let you go
I don’t know how to let you go

Buffy was out of the cab before the car had even come to a complete stop. Quickly she shoved a wad of bills into the driver’s hand. Turning she walked as fast as she could away from the cab, ignoring the woman’s calls that she had over paid. All she could hear were the last few lyrics playing over and over again in her head.

But I had the sense to recognize but
I don’t know how to let you go

She moved faster now, her body nearly running, running away from the lyrics, from the haunting melody. Before she knew it she was doing a full sprint, until suddenly she turned a corner and slammed full force into a young man.

“Are you alright?” she heard a kind voice calling down to her.

“I’m so sorry,” she muttered, her face scarlet with embarrassment. She reached out and accepted the hand that was being offered her. The man pulled her to her feet and for the first time she was able to look him in the face.

Spike! She stared slack jawed at the blond-haired blue eyed man who stood before her, the sun making a halo around his head from behind. Raising her hand she shielded her eyes to get a better look.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” the man frowned, obviously confused and a little taken aback by the look she was giving him.

She stared at him hard, but still the sun was in her way. Quickly she moved to the right and was able to see him uninhibited. “No, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” she replied giving him a weak smile. He had Spike’s hair and eyes alright, but the face, it wasn’t him. It never would be him. He was gone and she just had to stop believing otherwise.

She apologized again to the young man before moving on. For the first time she looked around and found herself down by the docks along the bay. So much for a quick and easy trip to the airport. She considered hailing another cab but instead decided it would be better just to catch a later flight. She didn’t want to have to get into another cab for a least a few more hours. So instead she made her way down to the end of one of the long piers.

Dropping her bag down at her feet, she pulled off the long trench coat and folded it neatly over the thick wooden railing next to her. All that running had made the trench coat nearly unbearable to wear, and she stood welcoming the cool ocean breeze that blew over the bare skin of her arms and twisted through her hair which hung loose and long over her shoulders. The breeze pressed the soft fabric of Spike’s black t-shirt, the one she had slept in all those nights beside him, against her skin and she smiled at the feel of its familiar touch. How could he be gone when so many things of his still surrounded her? When they still seemed to pulsate with his essence, his scent, his soul?

Reaching down she undid the tie straps on her backpack and began to sift through its contents. Finally she felt her fingers wrap around what she was looking for. Carefully she pulled out the photograph and held it out in front of her, her elbows resting on the top wooden bar of the pier.

The photo was just over two years old, but already it was bent and faded in places. It was from their trip to Italy, the first place they had gone after she had come back for him in L.A. There they were, the two of them, sitting in a gondola in Venice, bathed in moonlight just smiling. She sat in his lap, his arms wrapped around her protectively. She was the only one looking directly at the camera; he had been smiling and laughing at her with that cocky grin she had come to love so much. It seemed a lifetime ago.

As Buffy ran a fingertip over the line of Spike’s well defined cheekbones, she noticed the sunlight around her dimming. Looking up she was surprised to see thick clouds moving rapidly across the sun. Rain hadn’t been mentioned in the forecast that morning. At the same time the last remnants of the fading morning fog seemed to thicken about her, hiding most of the marina from her view. If it had been anywhere else in the world she would have thought it strange, but this was San Francisco, home of the strangely living fog. But if rain was a possibility she didn’t feel like just standing around getting soaked, so quickly reached down to return the photo to her backpack.

Just as she was moving the picture towards the lip of the backpack pocket, a stiff ocean breeze blew up and ripped it from her hands and sending spiraling back up the pier towards the street. “Damn it!” she swore and began to race after it.

The picture slid to a stop in front of a figure that had just moved out onto the pier. Slowly the figure bent down and picked the picture up in its hand, turning it over and smoothing out its wrinkled, folded front.

“Excuse me, but that’s mine,” Buffy called out. “I’d like to have it back.”

Without a word the figure began to move towards her down the pier. As he grew closer Buffy started to get a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach. Could it be danger? Could it be part of the warning Whistler had left her with? She felt her body tensing and slowly she moved so she was directly in front of her bag, close enough to snag a stake or her scythe if necessary. Still the figure moved towards her, most of its features concealed by the fog, its arm stretching out towards her with the picture in hand as it grew nearer.

“Thank you so much,” she reached her hand out to take it, but instead the picture fell softly to the planks of the pier before her, Buffy’s hands pressed tightly against her mouth. She couldn’t move; her whole body seemed frozen in place, as frozen as she had felt when she had first awakened from her coma. Slowly she began to shake, starting with her legs and moving upward to her arms and chest. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she stared wide-eyed up…up at Spike!

“Spike,” she whispered so softly she wasn’t sure if she had heard herself, let alone whether he had heard her. It had to be a dream. Yes, she was dreaming that had to be it.

He just stared back at her with that cocky smile of his playing at the edges of his lips. He was dressed in a navy blue button down shirt over a white t-shirt, his legs stuffed snuggly in a pair of well-fitted regular blue jeans over his trademark black boots. His blond hair wasn’t as gelled back as usual, small tendrils of curls falling across his forehead. He shook his head slightly from side to side as she whispered his name again.

Suddenly the clouds overhead parted and the sunlight streamed down on them, chasing the remnants of the fog away. Buffy blinked in the brilliant sunlight, blinked up at Spike. Spike! Spike standing in full sunlight! Spike standing in full sunlight and not burning?! The playful smile of his began to spread slowly, seductively across his face as he watched her jaw drop open.

“How…” she whispered and suddenly she was stuck with a thought. Taking a deep breath she swallowed hard. “William?” she called out the name tentatively, rolling it around in her mouth. She had only called him it a few times since she had known him, evil and good, and yet somehow it didn’t feel as alien to say as she thought it would.

His smile broadened and reaching down he took her right hand in his. Feeling his hand touch hers made her jump slightly, but he just smiled even wider and lifted it up in his hand. Whatever he was he was real, physically there. No dream could ever be this vivid.

He turned her hand palm towards him, his hand gently cupping the back of it. Slowly he stepped forward until he was inches from her. She could feel her breath coming in fast gulps. He was here. Spike was here standing inches from her. Gently he pressed her hand over his chest, over his…heart.

For some reason she held her breath, afraid perhaps that he would vanish before her eyes, but instead she felt a heartbeat. At first she thought it was her own since hers was beating so rapidly but slowly she began to realize that it was coming from within him. Spike had a heartbeat! He was human again!

Tears of joy sprang up into her eyes and she threw herself forward into him, feeling the warmth of his strong chest against hers. His arms came up quickly and surrounded her, pulling her tightly to him. The tears began to flow freely and she sobbed like a baby into his chest. His hands came up gently, stroking her hair, rubbing at her back, until her sobs lessened and she was breathing easily against his chest. Leaning back ever so slightly, he cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head so she could look up at him. With his thumbs he wiped away the tears on her cheeks. He smiled down at her and she couldn’t help but laugh. He chuckled too, a deep warm sound echoing in his chest. Gently he leaned down and kissed her, deeply passionately.

They stood for several minutes lost in each other’s embrace, their bodies clinging to one another. Finally he released her, pulling her tightly once again to his chest. She rested her check against his chest, her ear resting over his heart. Closing her eyes she listened, smiling, to the sound of his heartbeat.

“How?” she whispered against his chest, her arms wrapped around his back.

“The Shanshu Prophecy,” he replied, his voice rippling out from beneath her head. “Whistler was partially right. He just got the wrong vamp.”

“So you’re human now?” she leaned back so she could look up at him.

“As human as you are, luv,” he smiled. Her arms reached up and encircled his neck and he pulled her up into his arms, lifting her feet of f the ground. She giggled as he swung her around in a large circle, before planting her feet back onto the ground and kissing her deeply again.

“Why didn’t you find me sooner?” she asked, her voice slightly hurt.

“Came as soon as I could, pet, but we all have to follow the rules even if it takes sodding forever for the Powers that Be to make up their bloody minds.”

She smiled again against his chest. It didn’t matter how long it had taken; in the end he had found her. She snuggled closer in his arms, never wanting to let him go.

Suddenly she felt him lifting her left hand in his. “Still have it I see.”

She looked up at him. “I’m ready for it to mean something if you still want it to,” she smiled.

“Always, luv,” he kissed her briefly again. Then reaching down he picked up the photo and her bag. He glanced down at the picture as he stuffed it inside the pocket of the bag. “No more night shots ok?”

“Whatever time of day you want is fine by me,” she grinned, as he slung her bag over his shoulder and scooped up his trench coat in his arm. With his free arm he pulled her in close beside him.

“So where do you want to go?” he asked.

A twinkled flickered in her eyes and she couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. “Is that all you think about?” she giggled. “You’ve been back for all of 10 minutes and already you’re planning tonight’s activities!”

“What do you expect, luv. I’m nothing but a man.”

--------------------

The End


©2004
Ok, that’s it. Hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave feedback (only way I’ll get better) at divine.serenity@gmail.com (just put some note in the title so I won’t mistake it for Spam ^_^).

*Special thanks* to Angela for being my wonderful beta yet again!!!