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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is it for now, folks. Thank you so much for reading and for those kind souls who have taken the time to comment - you make it all worthwhile :)

I would very much like to write more of this for our heroes, but RL has me by the throat at the moment so they get a bit of peace. One day....
The Immortal lay on Ilona’s bed in a tangle of sheets and smiled contentedly, basking in the afterglow of what, even in his enormous and varied experience, had been a particularly satisfying exercise. He gave a deep chuckle. “You are a remarkable woman.”

Ilona sat next to him, her long black hair loose around her shoulders and falling softly over the swell of her breasts, and lit a cigarette.

“You should not, you know.” The Immortal gave a moue of distaste.

Ilona raised an eyebrow at him. “Ah no? So suddenly you must be concerned for your health.” She stubbed the cigarette out with a shake of her head. “I am sorry.”

The afterglow faded suddenly and a deep frown settled on his perfect features. “Thanks to the vampire and his whores, I have to be concerned for so much.”

“Oh, my darling!” Ilona shook her head sympathetically. “What will you do?”

“I will have my revenge,” he said grimly. “Somehow,” he added with a pout.

“Ah, but you will have to be most careful. The witch…” Ilona let her words hang.

“She crushed Cagliastro as if he were nothing. Less than nothing!” The Immortal growled. “As long as the vampire has the witch, I cannot hope to exact payment from him.”

“Well, you may get your revenge.” Ilona smiled slowly. “He will be here in a little while. All alone.”

The Immortal looked at her in surprise. “Here? Why would he come here?”

“I have been… cultivating an acquaintance with him. Really, he is quite pathetically desperate for friendship, it was not so difficult. The slayer, I think, has much to answer for.” She shrugged. “He trusts me. He thinks I am on his side. He comes so that I can tell him where to find you.” A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “We will have to make sure you are ready for him, no?”

The Immortal laughed delightedly. “You really are a most remarkable woman.” He kissed her naked shoulder. “In so many ways.” He paused. “Ilona, it’s not that I am complaining, and after all, I’m sure you are very well aware that I have desired you for a very, very long time, but,” The Immortal twined a lock of her hair around his finger, “why now? You have resisted so long…”

Ilona smiled at him archly. “It is a woman’s prerogative, is it not? Besides, you were always linked so closely with your mage. It would have felt as if I had two men in my bed, and although I do not find that thought necessarily unpleasant, with you,” she rubbed her cheek against his hand, “I wanted for it just to be the two of us.”

“Ah, yes,” The Immortal sat up in the bed, a frown creasing his forehead. “No more Cagliastro.” He swung out of bed and stalked moodily across the room to where a bottle of wine sat waiting on a table. “And no more immortality.”

She watched him pour the wine, his face fixed in a deep scowl. “I could help you with that,” she said calmly.

He paused and turned toward her with a puzzled frown. “Help me?”

“Yes,” she stretched luxuriously, unashamedly naked in the candle-light. “I could give you back your immortality.”

A gleam of excitement flashed in his eyes. “You could?”

She gave a purring chuckle. “We have known each other for many years, have we not? Many years - since I first came to Wolfram and Hart. You know what I am. You know of my powers.” She shrugged. “I may not be as strong as Cagliastro – the immortality I can give you will not be… exactly the same… but you will be immortal again.”

“And Wolfram and Hart would agree to this?”

Ilona shrugged. “You are one of our most valued clients.”

He smiled with malicious glee. “Oh, that would be priceless! They think they have destroyed me, the witch and the slayer. Think they have avenged their feeble vampire! It would give me great satisfaction to prove them wrong.” He threw back his head and laughed. “To be immortal again!”

Ilona watched him, a quiet smile curving her lips. “Then you wish to do this?”

He hesitated briefly. “Is it safe?”

“I have handled your affairs for many years. You know me. And then, after tonight…” she raised an eyebrow “you ask me that?”

He came over to her and took her hand eagerly. “When can we do it?”

“Well, why not…” she tilted her head at him, “now? I have all I need and there is no time like the present, no?”

“Ah, Ilona, my gratitude knows no bounds! After this, we will be together, no?” he bent over her, nuzzling her neck, one hand moving to caress her. “Immortal together.” His hand stroked her breast as he kissed her throat.

She chuckled and gently detached herself from his embrace. “Do not waste your strength! You will have all the time in the world later. Now, we do this. You stand, there… by the fireplace.” The Immortal followed her instructions as she rummaged in a drawer. She brought out a smooth, polished stone, about the size of her fist and pure white, which seemed to pulse and glow as her hand closed around it. She held it reverently, stroking it gently and a soft hum began to emanate from it.

The Immortal eyed her warily. “Will it hurt?”

“You won’t feel a thing. Trust me.” She looked up from her rapt scrutiny of the stone and smiled. “Now – I focus the power. You will feel… a certain stiffness of the muscles as the spell takes effect. This is normal; there is no need for concern. Very soon you will feel nothing.”

“Very well. What shall I do?”

“You just stand there and look handsome,” she said with a smile. The Immortal struck a heroic pose and Ilona laughed. “Perfect! Now – we start.” She concentrated on the stone, eyes closed. The hum intensified. The sheen of perspiration on her forehead bore witness to the stress of the spell.

“I feel it!” he said excitedly. “It starts at my feet, no? And now it moves… it…” He frowned. “Ilona… I cannot move my legs…”

“Hush!” She kept her eyes closed, still focussed on the pulsing white stone. “It will pass.”

The Immortal kept an uncomfortable silence as the heavy numbness spread ever upward. He looked down. The skin of his legs and abdomen had paled, and as he watched it took on a smooth white lustre. “Ilona!” There was panic in his voice now as a cold, hard vice tightened around his chest.

Ilona sighed and opened her eyes – no longer a soft, rich brown, but hard, feral amber. She blinked and the demon receded. “It is done.”

“Immortality!” he croaked as the skin of his chest hardened and whitened.

She stood up and walked over to him. “Oh, you will have your immortality. Marble, I believe, lasts for many, many years.”

The line of whiteness had reached his throat. He turned horrified eyes towards her. “Why?” he asked.

“For Guglielmo.” Her eyes hardened. “The name means nothing to you? No, of course it would not. You have always bent yourself to the pursuit of money and power, no? You have sold your allegiance to whoever could bring you your desire. Never a patriot. You despised them, those who put their country before their wealth. So, to have them killed like animals at the request of your French master, it meant nothing to you.” She leaned closer to stare into eyes across which white crystalline tendrils were beginning to form. “But it meant something to me.” Her voice was low with anger. “I have waited many years for this, while you hid behind the protection of your magus. But now…” She stepped back and examined the almost pure white form critically. “You make a very beautiful statue! Worthy of Bellini! But then – he has sculpted you before, no? Of course, there will be a slight difference between you and the other works of art in our beautiful city.” She rapped her knuckles on the cooling, hardened surface of his chest. “You can still feel inside your shell, can’t you? Oh, it will thicken slowly as time goes on, but so slowly! And how that must give pain! And you can still think, still understand. The spell will maintain you.” She stretched up to put her lips close to an alabaster-white ear. “For eternity,” she whispered, “just as I live with my pain.” She watched impassively as the final crystallisation turned his luxurious black hair to hard, immobile white.

******

She opened the door to him dressed in a silk robe, vigorously towelling her shower-damp hair, her skin still pink from the heat of the water and the harsh scrubbing it had been subjected to. She smelled of expensive shampoo and soap and the strong, minty tang of toothpaste. She gave him a tight smile and stood aside to let him enter.

Spike looked around the room and frowned. “He didn’t turn up?”

Ilona nodded wordlessly and led Spike through to her bedroom. Spike’s eyes took in the discarded clothes on the floor, travelled over the dishevelled bed, and then… stopped. For a fleeting moment, he almost felt sorry for the old git. Almost.

He gave a low whistle and walked closer. “So, it worked, then?”

Ilona came to stand next to him. “It worked,” she said flatly.

Spike stepped a little closer to the pure white form. “And he’s naked because…?”

“Because he had to trust me.” She turned away and began to brush out her hair. “He had to be completely open to me. I had to know him.”

“Well, that’s one way…” Spike snorted.

She turned to face him and her eyes darkened. “I did what I had to. Do not judge me.”

“No.” He nodded. “I’m not judging you.” He walked over to her and took her face in his hands. “You OK?”

For a moment her face softened and she swayed toward him. There was vulnerability and openness in her eyes that brought a concerned frown to his face. She shrugged it down quickly and the old Ilona was back. “Si, of course. Now I, too, ‘ave all I wanted, huh?” She held his eyes a moment longer then looked away. “And I ‘ave a most beautiful piece of art, do you not agree?” She crossed the room and smiled widely at The Immortal, tapping his cheeks lightly. “So ‘andsome! It will lift my spirits to know that one such as he will live forever in marble. A much deserved tribute, no?”

Spike tilted his head and examined the statue with a frown. “You know,” he said eventually. “Just about every statue of a naked bloke I’ve ever seen has got a particular part of its anatomy missing.” He looked at the relevant area. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a club hammer handy?” he mused.

Ilona chuckled. “Ah, now that would be too cruel! After all, it was his most favourite piece of his body, I think.”

“Doesn’t look much to write home about,” Spike snorted disdainfully.

“It wasn’t.” Ilona walked over to the table and poured two glasses of wine. She handed one to Spike. “So – a toast. To we who now have all our hearts’ desires, no?”

Spike took a drink of the soft red wine, watching her carefully. “And it feels good, having all you desired?” He gestured with his glass.

“It feels…” she gazed at The Immortal pensively, “I do not know. It is often the way, I think, that when you have what you have wanted for so long, that there is a certain…” She shook her head and turned to Spike with a wide smile. “Revenge is sweet, is that not what they tell us?”

“They tell us a lot of things, a lot of it complete bollocks.” Spike frowned. “Now what? Don’t suppose Wolfram and Hart are going to be especially happy that you’ve done away with one of their most important clients.”

“’Ow are they to know? I ‘ave worked for them for many years – I know well enough ‘ow they work, and where they have the blind spots.” Ilona sipped her wine calmly.

“Yeah, but he just disappears? Someone has to care - although I can’t imagine why.”

Ilona shrugged “I ‘andled all of The Immortal’s affairs. ‘E ‘as no heirs, and friends… well, you know, not so much friends as enemies. ‘E was becoming too sure of himself; ‘e was beginning to interfere in Wolfram and Hart’s interests. This was well known – it will do the Senior Partners no ‘arm if others who seek to challenge their authority suspect they ‘ad anything to do with ‘is… disappearance. Besides, Wolfram and Hart are beneficiaries if ever anything should ‘appen to him.” She gave a small smile. “Really, ‘e never was good at reading the small print. Wolfram and Hart will come out of this very well indeed”

“You’ve really thought this through,” Spike said admiringly.

“I ‘ave ‘ad much time.”

“And you? What now?”

“Ah, now – that remains to be seen. The Senior Partners will no doubt appoint themselves judge and jury.”

“That doesn’t sound like it’ll be to the good.” Spike frowned.

“Maybe.” Ilona shrugged. “But – I do not underestimate my usefulness to them. And, if all else fails, I ‘ave…” she hesitated “certain information. As you know,” she smiled, “I ‘ave no aversion to blackmail. It is a great and honourable tradition, and just because Wolfram and Hart are who they are, it does not mean they do not understand honour.”

“Honour among thieves?” Spike snorted.

“Ah, si! Each has their own form of honour. Except for gypsies, naturally. But… now it is done, I am not so sure where my way lies. I think I ‘ave been much blinded by this vendetta.” She looked over at The Immortal thoughtfully, “I need to give my ‘art some time to tell me what it is she really wants. This is difficult, I think, finding your true ‘art’s desire. When you think you ‘ave it, you find that maybe what you ‘ave craved is not enough…” She looked up at Spike sharply. “And you? You ‘ave your ‘art’s desire – you ‘ave the love of your Boofy. This is enough for you?”

“I…” he paused. “It’s enough,” he said firmly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Yet you hesitate.”

“Yeah, well, it’s complicated, isn’t it?” He ran his hand over his hair with a sigh. “I mean, vampire here. I may not be the brightest bulb on the tree, but I’m not that stupid. I know it’s not gonna be easy. But…” he shrugged.

“But you love her.” Ilona looked at him intently for a moment and he looked away. “L’amore, huh?” she smiled. “She conquers all.” He didn’t see the fleeting sadness that touched her eyes. “I hope you find it is enough,” she said softly. She shook her head. “But there is something you must also consider. It is not only I who should be concerned about the Senior Partners.”

“I’m giving notice.” Spike shrugged dismissively. “Not playin’ for the bad guys anymore.”

Ilona gave a wry laugh. “You do not just walk away from Wolfram and Hart!”

“No?” Spike’s jaw was set defiantly. “Just watch me.”

Ilona sighed and cupped his cheek in her hand. “I will watch you. And I will watch out for you as long as I am able, but…” she shrugged. “This must one day be faced. Once again you make powerful and dangerous enemies, no?” She dropped her hand. “But now, you must go to your Boofy. I ‘ave much to arrange, you know.” She crossed the room to The Immortal and walked around his white form examining it critically. “You know, I think maybe this is too large for my room. And it does not fit with the décor. I think, maybe I should donate such a fine statue to a worthy cause, no? We cannot be greedy with such beauty! Somewhere it can be admired by the public perhaps.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow at Spike. “What you think?”

“Not a bad idea. But you know, public statues – tend to get vandalised. And then there’s the pigeons…” Spike grinned.

“Ah, yes, the pigeons.” Ilona chuckled. “How delightful…”

******

He let himself out of the building, closed the door softly behind him and sighed. He looked up at the lighted window in Ilona’s apartment and shook his head. She really was something. He turned away, then stopped with a frown, senses tingling. He wasn’t alone in the piazza. A smile curved the corner of his mouth.

“Are you going to lurk there all night, or are you comin’ out?” he said softly.

Buffy stepped out of the shadows of a doorway. “I’m not lurking. Just standing around. It’s a whole different vibe.”

Spike grinned. “Are you stalking me, slayer?”

“In your dreams!” Buffy sidled up to him, smiling seductively, and rested her hands on his chest. “Just happened to be passing.”

“Is that right?” Spike wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “What’s up? Don’t you trust me?” He gave her a lopsided smirk, tongue against his teeth.

“Trust you… yes. Trust her…” Buffy frowned up at Ilona’s apartment, “no.”

“You don’t know her, love.” Spike followed her gaze up to the window. “She’s quite something.”

Buffy wasn’t sure she liked the affection in his voice. “Something. Yeah, just not quite sure what.” She pouted. “So did Signora Something have anything to say about Morty?”

“Dealt with.” Spike shrugged.

“What dealt with? Hey! Any dealing with to be done around here, I wanna be the one to do it!” Buffy frowned.

“It’s dealt with.” Spike’s voice was determinedly reasonable. “Believe me, he got what he deserved. He won’t be screwing with anyone’s life ever again.”

“But…I…”

Spike took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Trust me on this. It’s over.” She gazed at him steadily, searching the depths of his eyes, then nodded. He leaned forward and kissed her gently. “Time to put it behind us.”

“Mmmm… just don’t ask me to forget it…” she murmured against his mouth. “From now on I forget nothing.”

She wondered, as his lips brushed hers, if this would ever change – this sudden breathlessness, the surge of desire that turned her insides molten and sent fire coursing through her veins, set her whole body alive to him. On the whole, she kind of hoped not.

She pulled back and looked up at him. “You know what I love about you?” she asked gently.

Love. The word resonated through him, set his heart soaring. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. “My tight and athletic body?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No… well, yes…” She snuggled closer “that too…” She writhed as his hands moved down to cup her buttocks, pulling her tighter to him. “Stop trying to distract me! Listen!” He pulled back a little, put on his best attentive face, made her smile. “You know me so well, better than I know myself sometimes, but you – you never cease to surprise me. Maybe I've seen the best and the worst of you, too – but I still don’t think I’ve seen it all.” She rested her hand against his cheek, smiling softly. “You’re one hell of a man.”

He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him at her words. “Yeah, well,” he gave her a lopsided smile, “been tryin’ to tell you that for years. Knew you’d fall for the good looks and killer charm sooner or later.”

“And arrogant,” Buffy chuckled softly, “Did I mention arrogant?”

“Must have done. More than once, I’d wager, probably along with the pig-headed and annoying.”

“Mmm… always was a good judge of character.” She smiled and reached up to kiss him. “Mmm… Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“I think we should go back to the hotel now.”

“Yeah? OK, but it’s not that late…”

“No.” She pressed herself closer to him, nibbled gently at his neck, felt a surge of heat almost painful in its intensity as he gave a groan and rolled back his head. She kissed the curve of his throat. “You don’t understand. I need to go back to the hotel.” She drew back and looked up at him under lowered lashes. “Now.”

“Now?” He cocked an eyebrow, gave her that smile – the one that suddenly seemed to make rational thought impossible.

Under the cover of his duster, she slid a hand down to the button of his jeans. “Unless you’d rather wait?” Her hand moved lower.

He gasped. “Now would be good.” His arm around her shoulder, he began to steer her hurriedly across the piazza.

A few yards further on Spike stopped abruptly.

“What?” Buffy was in no mood to wait.

“Do you ever get the feeling you’re being followed?” Spike turned around and scanned the street behind them. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “OK, c’mon out.” There was a long silence. “I know you’re there.” Spike went on. “Don’t make me come get you.”

There was the sound of giggling and Willow stepped out of a shadowed doorway, smiling nervously. “Hi!” She wiggled her fingers at Spike

“And?” Spike frowned at the doorway.

Dawn was next to appear, grinning hugely and dragging Andrew by his arm.

“Bloody hell, what is this? Annual outing of Scoobies United?” Spike frowned at them. “And when the hell did you two get to Rome?”

“Oh, not long ago.” Dawn grinned. “You two look cosy.”

“How long have you been following us?” Buffy shook her head in disbelief.

“Since you left the hotel. You were so intent on checking up on Spike you didn’t even spot us!” Dawn said triumphantly. “We wanted to surprise you!”

“Well, it worked.” Spike scanned the street behind them. “You’re it, right? Old Rupe isn’t lurking in the shadows as well?”

“Giles? No…” Dawn grinned at Spike’s expression of relief, “he’s waiting back at the hotel,” she said gleefully.

“Fuck!” Spike looked down at Buffy. “Do you think we could find another hotel?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “C’mon, let’s go face the music.”

They set off again, Spike and Buffy trailed by their small band of followers.

“This is cool!” Dawn was positively bouncing with excitement. “We’re all together again! Like a …a gang! We could all work together!”

“Oh, bloody hell…” Spike groaned quietly.

“We should have a name. A new one.” Andrew had clearly taken to the idea.

“Well, I never much liked the old one.” Dawn snorted. “I mean – Scoobies? Who’s idea was that?”

“Yeah, I always wondered about that.” Spike looked down at Buffy. “So, what – you’d be Daphne, right?”

“I am so not Daphne! Daphne is just lame!” Buffy sneered. “Always with the needing to be rescued! I could never be Daphne.”

“Well, Spike could be Fred.” Andrew put in. “You know – all brave and blond and strong…”

“Which leaves Willow as Thelma, you as Shaggy, and – what? I get to be Scooby Doo? Gee thanks,” Dawn said sarcastically. “How about Vampdusters?” Dawn began to sing, “If there's something weird in your neighbourhood, who you gonna call – Vampdusters!”

“You wanna just think about that one?” Spike looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. “Given current company.” He caught Willow’s eye and gave her a long-suffering grin.

Willow felt herself flush and looked away quickly. The sharing of Buffy’s memories and emotions had left a legacy that she was finding a little hard to deal with. After all, hardly appropriate to be having feelings like that about your best friend’s guy. Not that they were her feelings, naturally – they were just echoes of Buffy’s and they’d fade eventually. Hopefully. And besides – Spike wasn’t her type, because after all, as Anya had once so eloquently put it, he has a penis. Willow’s blush deepened. Buffy’s memories of that particular part of… No! No going there! She resolutely put the thoughts aside. Bad thoughts! Besides, she had more important things to worry about.

She watched the two of them, Spike with his arm around Buffy’s shoulders, Buffy with her arm around his waist as naturally as if they had been made to fit. She watched him smile down at her, at the look she gave him, listened to the light-hearted banter between them as they walked together, perfectly at one, so happy. And after all, after everything they’d been through, they deserved to be happy. Besides, what she’d sensed in the heart of the Slayer power, could’ve been anything. Anything at all. Or even – nothing. But if it wasn’t… She should do something now, tell them what she’d seen. She stopped and opened her mouth to speak, and then…

Buffy was laughing at something Spike had whispered in her ear. Willow couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard her laugh like that, so relaxed and joyful. The wrongness in the Slayer power wasn’t all she’d seen in Buffy’s mind. She’d seen this – this connection finally acknowledged, this need finally answered, this love mutually given and joyfully received after so long – so very long. She hesitated. Now wasn’t the time. She’d talk to the coven first, and maybe Giles… or… not… but she’d do the research thing, and then decide what to do, because frankly? Right now, she couldn’t bear to hurt this. Seeing something good finally come out of all the mess of the past years was healing her, too.

Her decision made, she hurried to catch up with the others and fell in beside Dawn and Andrew, following Spike and Buffy, moving on together through the cool of the Roman night.





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