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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm really stressed right now and felt that I had to post this chapter. It's kind of therapy for me.
Thanks.
Redemption Chapter 24:


Summary: Spike returns to Doc Holliday’s ranch and finds out the sad news. Buffy insists that the ‘gang’ give Riley Finn a most proper Shawnee burial.

The gang heads out and gets closer to Nogales and freedom. Unfortunately? So does the posse from Redemption.



Chapter 24: ‘Adios; Vaya Con Dios’


Spike wearily rode up the path that led to Holliday’s sprawling ranch house. If he expected anyone to come out and greet him personally; He was sadly disappointed.

Not even Buffy came to meet him and this struck Spike as rather odd indeed. His father, Rupert Giles and the unfathomable Holden Webster trudged along behind him on their own horses.

Midnight, Spike’s trusted steed was nearly exhausted and Spike felt truly guilty about that. Rupert had tried to convince his headstrong son that perhaps they should stay in Prescott for the night. Just to give the poor horses some rest if nothing else.

Nope, Spike had balked at that idea, wanting to get back to his bride as soon as humanly possible. So here they were, near exhaustion themselves, plodding along, up the worn path to the illusive doctor’s Arizona home.

“I’d of thought my bride would at least be watchin’ for us,” Spike grumbled to his father.

“Buffy loves you son,” Rupert sighed, more from fatigue then exasperation. “She’s probably inside the hacienda, anxiously waiting for you to……”

“Somethin’s wrong,” Holden blurted out as his horse caught up with Spike’s and Rupert’s. “I can sense it,” the intuitive young man continued uneasily. “Spike’s right Mr. Giles. His young wife ‘would’ be out here, if she could. Somethin’s off.”

That was all Spike had to hear and he spurred Midnight to a full on gallop. He was followed right behind by his father and Holden, who he, Spike, had gained a bit more respect for in the last few hours.

Angel was waiting for the trio when they entered Holliday’s huge living room area. Spike knew, right away that something was more then wrong.

“Where’s my wife?” Spike asked his cousin anxiously as he tried to push past the taller, larger man.

“Wait, Spike,” Angel commanded evenly. “Buffy’s okay; asleep I think, or so Senora Serranto told me. It’s not Buffy, cousin, it’s Riley and Graham,” Angel finished sorrowfully. “They’re both dead and…..”

“Dead?” Spike spat in disbelief. “What the fuck happened, Angel? Why is…..”

“Let him speak, William,” Rupert interjected firmly. “What happened nephew?”

Angel made quick work of telling the sad story of Riley’s demise, leaving out the personal things Buffy had told him. After all, that was for a wife to tell her husband, not someone else.

Spike shook his head in disgust, “I’m sorry Holden, but that friend of yours was a bloody right wanker.”

Holden sighed and nodded his dark head, “I know Spike. Graham wasn’t ever right, not after the Yankees burned his folk’s place in Alabama. It’s not like Graham and me were best buddies, okay? We just came from the same county in ‘Bama and nothin’ much more. I’m thinkin’ that Graham might of insulted your wife and Riley stepped in. Is that right Angel?”

Angel confirmed Holden’s assumptions, but again, made it clear that the entire story should be told by Buffy.

“We buried Graham, out in the desert,” Xander offered in a terse, unremorseful tone. “Made sure he was good and covered,” Harris added evenly. “The marker says his name ‘Graham’ from Alabama. Never knew his real last name and…..”

“I have to go to my wife,” Spike mumbled as he turned and left the living room area. “She needs me,” he called back to the rough men behind him.

Buffy was in the guest room, crying her green eyes out. She, of course, blamed herself for both of the men’s deaths.

“Baby,” Spike whispered hoarsely when he stepped through the bedroom door. “Baby, please…..”

Buffy looked up from the bed on which she lay and saw her husband standing before her. Not missing a heartbeat, she leapt up from the bed and threw herself into Spike’s welcoming arms.

“It was my fault,” Buffy wailed as she melted into her husband’s comforting arms. “I should never have gone for that walk, by myself. I wanted to clear my head and…..”

“You had every right to go for a walk baby,” Spike murmured softly into his wife’s warm little ear. “I spoke with Angel and he told ‘most’ of the story. How about you tell me the rest?”

“I went for a walk, after you left,” Buffy whimpered. “I thought if I walked and thought things out? That I wouldn’t be so darned angry with you, Will. There was a bluff; an ugly harsh place that seemed fitting for my mood. I’d been there, only a moment or two and Graham showed up.”

Spike tensed at the dead man’s name, but calmed himself and bade Buffy to continue.

“He said bad, awful things about you darling,” Buffy sobbed at the memory of Graham’s harsh words. “Graham said you might not come back and he tried to convince to go away with him…if you didn’t,” she choked.

“That fucking low life…..” Spike hissed, but Buffy cut him off.

“He’s dead, Will,” she whispered in a pained, raspy voice. “We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Graham,” Buffy stammered, “he put his hands on me and that’s when Riley showed up. Riley, he told Graham to leave me be and all. When Graham reached for his gun; so did Riley. They shot each other and…..”

Buffy choked on her words and buried her head in her husband’s chest. “If Riley hadn’t of come along? Graham might have…..”

“It’s over,” Spike murmured quietly, “it’s all over baby. I’m so sorry about Riley, but it’s not your fault. Look,” he reared back and placed his right hand under her trembling little chin.

“Riley, just like Graham; they chose this life, sweetheart. Just like me and my father. We chose to go this path. Just thank God that old Riley was here to help you. It’s my fault, sweetling, not yours; I chose to listen to Angel and go to Prescott. You just went for a walk and that’s no sin, Buffy love. I’m just glad that Riley was here to help you.”

Buffy burst out into a new torrent of tears and clutched at Spike desperately. “I thought you might not come back…..” Buffy sobbed into his black shirt, “I love you,” she finally managed to cry.

“I know that, baby,” Spike whispered hoarsely in reply. “I love you too and I will always come back to you, baby. Always.”.

“Make love to me, Will,” Buffy murmured softly, nuzzling his pale, strong neck with her lips. “I need you, baby,” she declared, her tone was a mix of a purr and desperate pleading.

“Now, how could I refuse that, baby,” Spike whispered huskily in reply. He laid Buffy back on the bed and proceeded to unbutton her little silky white blouse.

Riley Finn, son of an Irish immigrant and Shawnee princess, was given a most appropriate funeral service. Buffy and Xander had both insisted that they place Riley on a quickly made funeral pyre.


They began the ceremony, a Shawnee burial rite, at least as close as they could manage, at sunset that very night. After Senor Serranto spoke some Catholic words in Spanish, Xander said words of remembrance for his childhood friend.

Buffy sobbed during the entire service, her head buried in Spike’s strong, supportive chest. She insisted that Xander and Jesse spread Riley’s beloved peyote seeds over his body, just before they lit the torches in their hands. Once the words, both Christian and Indian were completed over the body? Xander, Jesse and Rupert Giles lit the simple wooden funeral pyre, therefore his body, with the torches and sent Riley’s immortal soul up to the Great Father in the sky.

“Adios Riley,” Xander whispered sadly as he watched the smoke rise from the funeral pyre.

After the mortal body of Riley Finn had burned to ashes, Spike handed his wife over his father. He tapped Angel on his shoulder and nodded to a spot far away from the others.

“Where’d you bury Graham?” Spike asked Angel in a hushed voice. They had gone out of ear shot of others before Spike asked.

“About two miles out,” Angel grunted in reply, his brown eyes were dark and closed.

“Far enough so that some worthless shit posse can’t connect the Serrantos with us,” Angel added roughly.

“Good,” Spike sighed. “These folks don’t need any trouble and I’ve no idea what this Merrick bloke is about. Hank Summers might be Buffy’s father but we’re the enemy to the whole lot of them and that’s that. I found out, in Prescott, that the posse is closer then ever, Angel. We’ve got to get the bloody hell off of this ranch and head out, tonight if possible.”

“Right,” Angel agreed with his cousin. “We’ll leave, as soon as we can pack everything together. Will Buffy be able to ride?”

“She will,” Spike assured Angel, a little reluctantly. “I hate to make her up and move again, so soon and after today but…..”

They packed and left, all of them, except poor Riley and Graham, of course. It was Mrs. Serranto that cried and babbled ‘adios’ and ‘vaya con Dios’ to Buffy so at least twenty times.

Buffy found that it was easier to leave the comfort of a loving, warm home this time. Maybe it was because she wanted away from this place and the unhappy memories it held. Or maybe it was because she was becoming harder, emotionally that is. As hard as the rocks and sage brush that surrounded the smaller group of people that rode on to some mere settlement by the name of Scottsdale.

‘Is this how Darla and Anya are?’ Buffy asked herself as she rode her mare next to husband. ‘Have they become as hard as these men and why? Because they had to?’

Buffy sighed inwardly and scanned the horizon that they headed into. Perhaps if God was with them? They would finally make it to Nogales.

Of course, it would take days to reach Scottsdale alone; especially if they tried to travel only after sundown. However, that’s how it would have to be if the group tried to escape the blistering heat of the Arizona sun.

The posse would probably take the same path, traveling after the merciless sun went down. Still, the gang could stay a step or two in front of them, if they pushed themselves that is.


They rode along, into the vast darkness before them, unable to stop and rest for too long anyway. Buffy listened to the noises about her as her mare, Buttermilk, trod along next to William’s horse, Midnight.

A sharp, shrill howl pierced the black night and Buttermilk reared up in fear. Buffy pulled the reins on her mare, causing William to hold back Midnight.

“We’ll catch up,” Spike called to the other gang members ahead of them. He took the reins from Buffy and pulled Buttermilk closer to his own horse.

“Come ‘ere,” Spike commanded Buffy gently as he held out his arms to her. “You’ll ride with me from here on in,” he added with a warm smile. “I like that better anyway,” he winked at her.

Buffy quickly scooched off of Buttermilk and onto Midnight. She plopped down in front of Will and leaned back against her husband. When she had snuggled into his strong body, he tied her mare’s reins to his horse’s saddle horn.

“Now you lay back, baby,” Spike murmured soothingly into Buffy’s ear. “You just lay back and listen to the beauty of the songs that the creatures of the night sing to each other. I’m bettin’ that the howl was from a male coyote, callin’ to his mate.”

“I like that thought,” Buffy sighed in contentment as William spurred Midnight a bit to catch up with the others.

“I thought you would,” Spike chuckled huskily, placing a comforting kiss on the top of his wife’s soft, golden head.

“I’m sorry Princess,” Spike mumbled with regret after a moment’s silence. “To take you on this trek and…..”

“Stop it,” Buffy cried as she bolted up and turned as much as she could to face her husband. “You just stop it right there, William Giles! I’m a real cowgirl now,” she declared proudly. “I can take anything this damned place has to dish out!”

With that, Buffy pulled her borrowed hat down over her forehead and scooted up to kiss Will on his mouth. “You best get used to it, groom,” she giggled mischievously, “I’m a tough little prairie girl and I can out do any of these so called outlaws!”

“Damn straight, bride,” Spike yelped in reply; his blue eyes danced with delight.


‘Meanwhile, back at Doc Holliday’s ranch…’


“You think that there’s really a body down there?” Marshal Merrick looked over at Mitch, the deputy from Redemption. “I mean, it could be a trick. Angel’s pretty crafty from what I hear and…..”

“There’s a body in there,” Sam grunted indifferently. “Whether it’s this Graham’s or not? Who knows. I sure as hell ain’t gonna’ dig it up and check it. Are you?” He gave the arrogant marshal a sly half grin.

“If it is Graham, the one that shot Wilkens,” Hank Summers added thoughtfully, “then I guess justice was kind of served. But, what do suppose he died from?”

“Who knows,” Merrick grunted with a shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe it’s a trick, like I said; to throw us off. Crawford might think if he gives us a grave, we’ll back off. But we won’t, will we?” The marshal shot Summers a stern look and followed Sam off towards the ranch off in the distance.

“Where you off to then Sam?” Merrick called to the Indian tracker.

“Somethin’s not right; there’s more,” Sam shouted back to the rest of the group. “Someone’s been burned, over there I think,” he pointed to a clearing in the distance.

“It’s recent, maybe a day or two,” Sam declared matter-of -fact like; as he scanned the dark sandy ground beneath them. He stood and brushed his hands off.

“It was a Shawnee burial; I’m sure of it. Wasn’t that one fella part or something?” Sam scrunched up his dark, bushy brows and surveyed the burnt ground again.

“He was. His name’s Finn, I think,” Mitch offered. “Came into town with the others and was there when they robbed the bank. So, you think this Finn was killed too?”

“He was somethin’ that’s for sure,” Sam grunted again and ran his big hand over the black sand. “If it was him they burned anyway. This was a Shawnee rite, no question about that.”

“Well, we know one thing for sure,” Merrick began, spitting his tobacco on the unborn sand.

“What’s that,” Hank asked skeptically as he reverently eyed the burnt ground beneath them.

“We know that the Crawford gang is missing at least two members,” Merrick stated with a slight grin. “That’s bad luck for them, but good luck for us.”



Three days and nights later, the dusty gang finally made it to Scottsdale. Or what there was of it; being not much more then a few ranches and a mercantile set in the middle of them.

They decided to make camp, just outside of the most outermost hacienda. Buffy and Spike were given a private area of their own, which was greatly appreciated by the newlyweds.

It was miles and miles of unrelenting desert until their destination. But, as long as Spike and Buffy had each other? Everything would be okay.


A/N: Sorry, this chapter really sucks and don’t I know it. I’m having a really hard time in RL right now, but I’m trying, I really am. I’m writing because I feel it’s good for the soul (at least I hope so).

Thank you for reading and please review, spufette.





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