CHAPTER 23
Buffy didn’t know what was worse. Traveling along the trans-dimensional path, which had felt like trudging through quicksand at the same time she was streaking down the world’s highest water slide, or…this. A vast, featureless void with nothing but shifting pink fog that made it impossible to see more than two feet in any direction.
It wasn’t even a nice shade of pink.
She looked around. Nothing. No trees. No roads. No convenient arrow signs that read “This way to The Powers That Be.”
She sighed. Not exactly what she’d expected, though in all honesty, Buffy hadn’t given this part of her plan much thought. The whole ride out to the portal had been devoted to imagining what she’d say to The Powers once she found them. The whole finding them part? She’d kind of skipped.
It had seemed so straightforward. Once she made sure Spike and Angel were safely back on the other side, she’d leave the path, confront The Powers, demand they complete Spike’s transformation and then convince them to send her home, where she and a fully shanshued Spike could get on with their lives. Together.
Instead, she found herself wandering aimlessly around for what felt like days, though it couldn’t possibly be. If it had been that long, she should be at least a little bit hungry, right? A little tired? She wasn’t either of those things. She was only pissed off.
And the longer it took, the more pissed off she got. It was either that or give in to the growing kernel of fear generated by the tiny voice inside her head. The one that kept asking what she would do if she never found them.
Why couldn’t things ever be simple in Buffy World? She just wanted to make things right. To fix what she’d messed up. Or…okay, technically coerce someone else into fixing it. But only because she didn’t have the power to do it herself.
No matter how much Spike wanted to let her off the hook, Buffy knew she’d taken something special from him. Not to hurt him. She’d meant to save him. She understood that with her head. But her heart knew that good intentions didn’t lessen the damage she’d done.
She couldn’t give Spike what he wanted most—a Buffy who had never loved Angel. But maybe she could give him this. His destiny. His rightful place in the grand scheme of things. His chance to finally be the true Chosen One, instead of always feeling second best. Except that wasn’t likely to happen if she spent the rest of eternity wandering around in circles.
Halting, Buffy planted both hands firmly on her hips and glared into the shifting mist.
“Okay, what do you want? An engraved invitation? Sorry. Not happening. I’m here. You know it. So what say we drop the games and get this over with?”
Buffy waited. The mist swirled. Nothing but silence answered her.
Her gaze narrowed, the frustration building inside approaching a slow boil. “So we’re not going to do this the easy way, huh? You want to be all avoidy about it? Fine. Won’t do you any good. ’Cause guess what? I’m not budging.” Folding her arms across her chest, she frowned. “Not that I’d know where to budge, even if I wanted to, but…so not the point.”
Another pause. More silence. She cocked her head.
“Maybe you’re ignoring me, hoping I’ll give up and go away. Or maybe you’re just really old and decrepit and totally hard of hearing. Like…you know…really old and decrepit things tend to be. But that’s okay,” she added, raising her voice a decibel or so, “because I can talk louder. And I can keep it up for a reeeally long time. I’m The Slayer, remember? I’ve got super-strong lungs and apparently nothing better to do for the rest of eternity. Pretty cool, huh?”
Still no response. Buffy ramped it up a bit more. “And if that doesn’t work, guess I’ll have to get obnoxious and super annoying! Which won’t be hard because, trust me…between my little sister and Spike? I’ve learned from the best. So let’s see…where to start? Ooh! I know! I—”
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to yell. We’re right here.”
Buffy froze. Oh god. That voice.
“Mom?” She whirled around, eyes straining to penetrate the fog. Looking this way and that.
There. Off to the right. She could barely make out a shape. It moved forward, materializing out of the mist. Sort of like a vampire dusting, only in reverse.
Her mother. Her mother was here.
“No, baby. Not your mother. I merely wear her image, plucked from your consciousness. No mind is equipped to see us as we truly are.” She smiled. “Not even yours.
“I—“
Not-Joyce held up a hand, cutting her off. What looked like sincere affection warmed her gaze. “It’s all right, honey. Take a minute to adjust. We know why you’re here.”
Buffy stared, trying desperately to gather her wits. Then another figure emerged from the mist, joining the first one. With a disapproving frown, it reached up to remove a familiar pair of spectacles and sighed. “Is this really necessary?” Not-Giles asked. “Under the circumstances, Buffy, your actions are reckless and entirely pointless. I have no idea what you hoped to accomplish by following such a rash course of action.”
Great. They’d knocked her for a loop with the whole looking-like-her-mother thing. Now, before she could recover, they’d followed it with a double whammy. Who knew The Powers played so dirty?
Not-Joyce turned to her companion. “Don’t be melodramatic,” she scolded. “Of course, you know what she hopes to accomplish. We’re conduits for The Powers, remember? She already knows we know.” Looking back at Buffy, she smiled again and shrugged apologetically. “Sometimes we get a little too caught up in these borrowed identities. I suppose you could call it an occupational hazard.”
Buffy swallowed, wishing she had some water for a suddenly too-dry mouth. But she’d come this far. Nothing would sidetrack her now. Folding her arms, she regarded them defiantly.
“I’m here. I have something to say. And whether you already know or not, I’m still going to say it.” She took a deep breath. “That prophecy…the one about the vampire with a soul. That was about Spike, wasn’t it?”
Not-Joyce nodded. “It was.”
“But I messed it up.”
“Yes. Obviously.” Not-Giles gazed at her, his expression stern.
“We know you meant well, honey,” Not-Joyce reassured her. “We all know that. But it would have been better if you hadn’t…intervened. Your actions changed what was meant to be.”
Buffy bit her lip. Glancing away, then back, she lifted her chin. “So unchange it,” she challenged.
“Sorry…what was that?” Not-Giles quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Give it back. Make him what he would have been if I hadn’t…you know. Undo it or…redo it…or just plain do it. Whatever.”
“Impossible,” Not-Giles stated flatly. Then sighing, his voice softened. “Buffy, I know your intentions are good, but nothing can be done. It’s simply too late.”
“I don’t accept that. What kind of wimpy Powers are they, anyway? Isn’t there some magic reset button they can push? A kind of time-travel thingie they can do? Send me back! Give me a chance to do it over again. I’ll know not to interfere this time.”
Not-Joyce and Not-Giles exchanged a look.
“Honey, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Certainly not. There are balances to be maintained. A quid pro quo, so to speak.”
Buffy frowned. “A quid pro huh?”
“Such a momentous undertaking is not without cost. There is a price to be paid. One that would not be to your liking.”
“But it is possible.”
“Sweetheart…”
“Where’s the other one?” Buffy demanded. “The one who talked to Spike. Was it one of you?”
Not-Giles regarded her warily. “Why do you ask?”
“I want to talk to that one. This conversation stops until I do.”
The two doppelgangers exchanged another look. At the same moment, a third figure came striding out of the mist—a blue-haired Illyria look-alike dressed in skin-tight leather. Halting in front of Buffy, she scanned her up and down, her voice and everything else about her dripping with disdain. “You dare summon me?”
Buffy bristled inwardly but kept it all business. “You told Spike destiny could be rewritten. That means if a prophecy is un-written, it can be written back again, right?”
Not-Illyria cocked her head. Silent. Noncommittal.
“So what do you want from me? Trials? Torture? Badly needed fashion tips? Whatever it takes, just tell me.”
Alien eyes appraised her. “You would risk your life? For a vampire.”
“For this vampire? Oh, yeah.”
Even as she spoke, a familiar tingle ran down her spine.
“The bloody buggering hell you will! You’re not risking anything!”
She whirled, and there he stood. The vampire in question—with that sexy little twitch in his jaw and those glowering brows that accused her of god knows what. Of course, she knew exactly what, though she wasn’t about to let that stop her. Raising her chin, Buffy glared back.
Spike stalked up to her, leaning down until they were almost nose-to-nose. “Have you lost your sodding mind?” he demanded.
She didn’t give an inch. “I know what I’m doing. And I don’t know how you got here so fast, but this—”
“Fast?” He barked out a harsh laugh. “It’s taken three bloody months just to get enough mojo built up to open the portal again. Never mind the bleedin’ trans-dimensional shift that lasted a hell of a lot longer than anyone expected.”
Buffy blinked. Three months? There she went for another loop. Though she should have known her friends—and Spike, in particular—wouldn’t rest until they’d found a way to save her. Speaking of which…
“How did you even get here? Giles said there was no being rescued if any of us got stuck.”
Spike glowered at her. “Rupert had it right enough. Only none of us counted on Blue still having a trick or two up her sleeve. Problem is, it’s strictly a one-way trip.”
Buffy couldn’t help stealing a glance at the Not-Illyria, even knowing she wasn’t the genuine article. “So Illyria got you here?”
“With a boost from Red,” Spike confirmed with a terse nod. “Everything it took out of her to hold open the portal for us and the girl’s still got more mojo than she knows what to do with. And did you even hear what I said about the one-way trip?” he asked, everything about him screaming exasperation.
Buffy gazed back at him, unruffled. “I heard. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got it covered.” She glanced at the trio of doppelgangers, who stood silently observing. “Or…working on it, anyway.”
“Yeah, gathered as much. Don’t think so.”
“Spike—“
“Shut it,” he ground out, his voice low and dangerous.
Buffy gaped at him.
“That’ll work, too,” he observed then turned to face the watching trio. “So here’s the thing. Slayer’s the hero type and because she’s got it in her head she has to carry the whole bloody world on her shoulders, she wants to make it right. Only I reckon that’s not her call. Not yours either. It’s mine.”
Buffy’s head turned to follow as Spike moved away, watching as he halted squarely in front of the three doppelgangers.
“Now I’ll admit, I wanted the prophecy once. True enough. But I’ve had a lot of time to think it over in the last few weeks and I’ve come to realize something. I don’t rightly fancy being Destiny’s bitch.
“Angel can have the sodding Shanshu and everything that goes with it. I’m not dancin’ to your little tune. Not letting you pull my strings. I’ll keep fighting the good fight because it’s what I want to do. But as of now, I’m doin’ it my way on my own terms. I aim to make my own destiny. And if any of those so-called Powers That Might Be don’t like it, they—”
“If I were you, I would consider my next words very carefully.” Not-Giles stared at Spike long and hard.
“Yeah, well, at the risk of stating the obvious, you’re not me. So bugger off.”
Realizing she was still gaping, Buffy snapped her mouth shut just as Spike rounded on her.
“And you! “Do you even care what you’ve put everyone through these last weeks? Your friends? Your little sis? Me? And for what? Kept telling you I didn’t want it, but you wouldn’t listen. Could have saved us all a lot trouble if you had!”
Buffy couldn’t help it. Her mouth dropped open again. “Excuse me? You said you didn’t believe in it. You said it wasn’t yours but even if it was you could live without it. You never once said you didn’t want it!” she shouted.
“Well, I’m sayin’ it now!” he yelled back. “And even if I had wanted it, you can’t just go throwin’ your life away over it!”
“Why not? It’s my life. Just like it was my life when I let you bite me!”
“When you—“ He broke off, staring at her incredulously. “All right, first off…there was no ‘letting’ me bite you involved. You bloody well seduced me into it when I wasn’t in my right mind. And, second thing? Something tells me The Powers aren’t too keen on their Chosen One running around trying to get herself offed on account of some vampire.”
Buffy stalked over to Spike, fists clenching as she glared up at him. “Well, it’s not up to them, is it? And just so I get this straight…when you came charging out into the sunlight, ready to go up in flames to save me from the raiders, that was okay? But it’s not okay if I take a risk to save you?”
Jaw rock-solid, he gave her a sharp nod. “Bloody right.”
Buffy stared. “Oh my god. That is just so…”
“So what?” he shot back.
“So…aggravating, irritating, chauvinistic, stupid, moronic, arrogant and…wait…let me think. Oh, yeah. Stupid!”
“Already said that.”
“I know!”
The eerie silence of the void pressed down on them as they stood at an impasse. Then Spike’s gaze dropped, his voice softening. “Buffy…me not wanting the Shanshu…I know it’s not what you want to hear. You being so keen on a normal life and all.”
Buffy raised a hand. “Okay, before we go any further, let’s get one thing straight. Normal? So over it. It was great for the first six months. Then I found myself actually hoping for an apocalypse just to break up the mind-numbing monotony. Shopping, clubbing, more shopping, more clubbing. In between a little sightseeing, a little slaying and a day job to help pay the bills. Then more shopping. By the time I got the phone call from Giles telling me to come to England, I actually got excited because I knew something had to be wrong. What’s normal about that?”
Moving closer, she gazed up at Spike. “And even with all of our…baggage? Being with you again is still the best, most important thing I’ve done since Sunnydale. I may not see any white picket fences in my future, but I do see a hardheaded vampire, who loved me so much he went out and got a soul. And who has this totally irritating way of making life so much more interesting with him than without him. And for your information, whether he becomes a human or stays a vampire, that’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Then she gave him a pointed look. “Unless I wind up dusting him first.”
Spike spoke so softly she could barely hear him. “You sure, love?”
She nodded. “Yep. It’s you, Spike…you’re The One. Not Angel, not Reilly, not The Immortal or anyone else who might come along. As schmoopy as it sounds, I finally know. That shoe prophecy may not be your destiny anymore, but you’re mine.”
Then she was in his arms, his mouth hungry on hers, her body pressing hard against his. She returned his kisses, not even trying to hold back. What she felt was huge and fierce, and any moment she would shake apart from the sheer force of it.
Gradually, the kiss slowed and deepened, and at some point Buffy became aware of a discreet coughing. Reluctantly separating, Buffy and Spike turned as one to face the watching trio.
Not-Joyce greeted them with a sad smile, while an aloof Not-Illyria studied them curiously. Not-Giles coughed again.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, his tone apologetic, yet firm. “But, actually, he’s not.”
Buffy blinked, trying for something eloquent, but all that came out was…
“Huh?”
“Spike is not your destiny,” Not-Giles told her gently. “You are meant for another. You were always meant for another, even though your paths have diverged for a time. As hard as it may be for you to hear at this moment, your true destiny lies elsewhere. From the beginning, before you were even born, you were always meant for…”
“You’d bloody well better not say it,” a darkly glowering Spike warned.
“Angel,” Not-Giles finished. “Angel is your destiny.”
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TBC in Chapter Twenty-Four
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you so much for the comments on the previous chapters. So sorry for the delay in responding to some of them, but they’re all greatly appreciated. Now on to the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!