Morihei Ueshiba
Buffy slammed the door behind her as she stormed into her suite. She was beyond pissed off. A whole day of researching ways to activate the Amulet and what had they got for their efforts? A big, fat nothing, that’s what.
It had been just after midnight when they’d arrived back at their hotel from Vail’s place. The old warlock had been no help in uncovering the mystery of the amulet, just shrugging his shoulders and muttering that opening ancient portals wasn’t exactly his field of expertise, and that maybe she should consider contacting the Senior Partners. His sly grin told Buffy nothing and she was still unsure whether his lack of cooperation stemmed from a genuine lack of knowledge on the matter or whether it was his little attempt to get back at her.
She’d suddenly been too tired to press him further. Considering they’d achieved their target without serious injury to any of their party, it was a rather subdued group that wandered out of Vail’s apartment. They’d all stood there uncomfortably for a minute or two, Xander and Rowan murmuring to one another, basking in their individual successes, Willow hovering awkwardly between the injured Kennedy and the stoic Oz, Buffy staring into space in a daze, Angel shooting her broody glares and Wes and Faith sending Angel weird, thoughtful little glances. Finally Angel and Wes strode off together tensely and the rest of them leapt into the rental van they’d parked by the curb.
They’d dropped Oz off at his B and B, and ten minutes later had pulled into the parking garage of their hotel. The ride in the lift had been almost silent and the decision to delay any research on the Amulet until the morning unanimous. Wearily they’d stumbled to their own suites, barely mumbling ‘good nights’ before they’d slipped inside and hit their individual beds.
Despite her exhaustion, Buffy had lain there, unable to relax enough to drift off. The amulet had still been clasped in her right hand; she hadn’t let go of it once since plucking it from Vail’s palm. Giles had offered to look after it for her, but there was no way she would’ve even considered letting go of it.
Finally, she’d drifted off to sleep, still clutching the charm to her breast. When she’d awoken in the morning, curled up on her side, it was still pressed against her, both of her arms wrapped around it. A huge grin had lit up her face as she’d remembered the night’s dream. No Hellmouth, no terrified pleading or angry accusations, just total unconditional love.
The first thing she’d seen when she’d opened her eyes on the dream plane were Spike’s beautiful blue eyes, staring at her with utter love and adoration. He’d taken her in his arms, wrapped himself around her so that every part of their bodies was touching. After gently kissing her head, her forehead, her eyes, her nose, he’d whispered lovingly in her ear, “Thank you sunshine. Thank you so much. We’re nearly there my golden girl. I’ll be with you soon.”
He’d kissed her again and then pulled her back towards him and snuggled together they had drifted off to sleep. All night long, every time she’d stirred, it was to the sensation of being enveloped in Spike’s loving arms. Unsurprisingly it was one of her most restful nights of sleep ever and she’d been in an awesome mood when she woke up.
The others had wandered in slowly in dribs and drabs over the morning. After a late breakfast and several retellings of the highlights of the night before, they’d finally settled down to work. Oz had rung Willow to let them know he wouldn’t be by until the afternoon, and Angel had sent his apologies with Wes. The man himself had arrived mid-morning after attending to business in at the office and picking up all the books and documents he could find on either the concept of atar in general and the Amulets of Atar themselves. He’d come in slowly, walking very stiffly and still obviously feeling the effects of his broken ribs and various cuts and bruises, including a rather spectacular one around his neck.
They’d quickly settled to work, Willow and Rowan on their laptops and the others with various books, documents and photocopied pages. They’d quickly established, as Wes had alluded to days earlier, that atar described the Zoroastrian concept of divine illumination. In earlier times it had been seen as a vehicle of judgement, with fire capable of detecting guilt. Over time, Atar became deified and incorporated in the Zoroastrian hierarchy of angels and a cult of fire developed, where fire was worshiped as an agent of ritual purification. These ceremonies took place in special sanctuaries or fire-temples.
Information on the Amulets was harder to come by. All they’d been able to uncover was that the charms were created in order to provide a focus during an adept’s quest to achieve spiritual enlightenment. Later amulets often incorporated a fire altar, but the earlier ones were usually fashioned in the shape of the sun as a more primal representation of fire and were set with crystals or gemstones.
Buffy had found this all pretty fascinating, but it was of no practical help in releasing Spike from the amulet. By early evening she’d had to get up and go for a walk. She’d been stuck inside the hotel all day and was beginning to get frustrated and restless. As she’d strolled along the busy city thoroughfare in the twilight, she’d found herself once again stroking the amulet through her jumper.
After she’d woken up that morning, she’d slipped it over her head, preferring to feel it against her skin. Giles was horrified when he’d found out, furious that she’d put herself at risk of ‘instant immolation’ as he’d termed it. She’d felt too silly to tell Giles, but later she’d confessed to Faith and Rowan that wearing it somehow made her feel more relaxed, more accepting, more focused on the outcome.
She’d wandered back to the hotel again in time to meet up with Xander and Rowan in the lobby. They’d just been out on a food run and had a large box each containing cartons full of Chinese take out. Back up in the suite they’d all tucked in to the delicious food, and chatted happily, mainly about the day’s research but also about random stuff too.
Buffy had felt pretty content really, a full stomach, the company of her friends and the warmth of the amulet against her skin. She’d made a quick call to Dawn to let her know the amulet retrieval had been successful, then turned in for the night.
Another night of bliss had followed, wrapped up safely in Spike’s arms. Just on daybreak he’d woken her with gentle kisses pressed all over her face. He’d pulled back to look at her and whisper lovingly, “Get ready sunshine. I know my golden girl can bring me home.”
Buffy’s eyes had fluttered open; awake this time for real. The amulet lay around her neck, her right hand clutching it firmly. She’d frowned as she’d tried to recall Spike’s words – something about getting ready, sunshine and home. Sweet but a bit cryptic she thought.
Feeling a little gloomy she’d headed down to the gym. Halfway through the first circuit she’d started to feel better when she’d hit the skipping station. Jumping up and down, the amulet had started to bounce around, flipping up in front of her face, banging down onto her breasts, becoming both a nuisance and a pain. She’d tried tucking it into her bra but it had worked its way loose within three skips. Buffy had shrugged and given up, removing it and pushing it into the pocket of her sweat pants.
Once she’d been unencumbered her workout went well. But she’d felt herself getting more and more pissed off and frustrated about the Amulet’s non-responsiveness as she completed each station. Finally she’d given up and stormed back upstairs. Coming in to find her suite once again overrun by her friends hadn’t helped her mood any, hence the door slamming.
They all looked up, startled by her violent entrance. She looked at them apologetically, mumbling something about how the door had slipped. Taking a few soothing deep breaths she wandered over to the balcony. She hadn’t been out there once since they’d arrived and a bit of fresh air and solitude sounded good about now. Just before she reached the floor length drapes she thrust her hand in her pocket. Immediately her fingers closed around the whorls and ridges of the amulet and she drew it out and threaded the chain over her head. A feeling of purpose and excitement began to flood her body as she grabbed the drapes and pulled them open.
The brightness of the early morning sun blinded her for a minute. The path of its ascent lay directly in front of her, framed by the silhouettes of two tower blocks. A shaft of its golden light hit her directly, bathing her in its warm radiance. She stood there for a moment, eyes closed, arms outstretched, enjoying the gentle heat.
Suddenly a bright flare of incandescent light seemed to penetrate her eyelids and she felt the heat of the amulet through her sweatshirt. She stumbled back a few steps, knocked off balance by the blow to her chest. Looking down she saw a dazzling beam of light emanating from the amulet.
“Oh shit, oh shiiiiit,” she yelled as the light continued to pulse and glow. The others had all leapt up by this stage and were gathered around her, although not too close. Xander was calling out suggestions in a panicky voice, Willow was getting ready to try some sort of spell and Faith was standing shaking her head, muttering “Damn B, this is not good.”
Buffy was frozen, unsure what to do. She was just thinking about carefully lifting the chain off her neck when the amulet began to give off a slight smoky pall, almost as if something within it were on fire. Before she could even react, the smoke thickened and began to swirl in front of her. It was pouring out of the amulet now and Buffy could see flickers of light whirling around in the twisting cloud.
The smoke continued to build until it became a dense, spinning mass, revolving fast enough to throw out a warm blast of turbulence, blowing back everyone’s hair and buffeting their clothes. The amulet, once again silent and non-glowy, hung harmlessly against Buffy’s chest. She stared, entranced by the maelstrom, watching the sparks of light dance in the whirlwind like slivers of molten fire.
Slowly, the patterns of light and dark began to change, coalescing together in the centre of the cloud, solidifying into a dense form. Gradually, that form began to take shape; the fragments of smoke, or maybe dust, beginning to collapse inwards, attaching themselves to the shape, until the awestruck observers could begin to make out the silhouette of a figure. A familiar tingle danced down the nape of her neck and Buffy gasped in horror and in hope, as that figure grew steadily more solid. A skeletal trunk balanced on two bony legs, arms outstretched in protection, head tilted back.
The mystical debris continued to spiral inwards, dark and light, like pieces of a puzzle, building something new? Something known? Layers of muscle reattached themselves to the figure, bundles of tissue and flesh. As organs and nerves were re-established, so too was sensation, and the means to express it. A hoarse, pissed off scream began to ring out from the centre of the melee.
Still the twister held, but almost entirely depleted now as the final elements raced towards their destination. Pale ivory formed a thin coat of skin and hair, and black, a covering of fabric – leather and cotton. Tears trickled down Buffy’s cheeks, tears of empathy and excitement and her nails cut into the palms of her hands. Around her she could vaguely hear murmurs of recognition and Giles’ “Oh dear God.”
He was almost entirely intact now; just the finishing touches to go. At last the final piece of flesh was locked into place and he stopped screaming. Released from his rigid mannequin-like pose, he slumped over, panting heavily. But not for long! He quickly straightened up, glancing around wildly, looking very agitated and disorientated.
“Spike,” Buffy called his name softly, lovingly, “Spike, you’re home.”
“What? What?” he grunted harshly before the gentle words registered in his panic stricken brain. He stilled himself, still panting lightly and screwed up his face in concentration. “Buffy?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes baby, I’m here.” Buffy spoke in a quiet, soothing voice as she slowly stepped towards him. “You’re home now and you’re safe.”
She now stood directly in front of him, smiling up into his still perfect, still beautiful face. His pale unblemished skin gleamed in the light; his gorgeous eyes that same flawless shade of sapphire. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but although he was calmer he still looked pretty confused and kind of spooked. His eyes swung around the room wildly before coming back to focus on her.
“Buffy,” he repeated, “you’re Buffy.”
“Yes Spike, I’m Buffy. You were… gone and I missed you so much but now you’re back and I’m never gonna let you go again. I told you but you didn’t believe me, and then you were gone and…” she hiccuped as tears began to fill her eyes.
“Buffy? Pet?” Spike interjected, slowly dawning comprehension and wonder colouring his expression, “You missed me?”
“Oh my God, Spike, of course I missed you. Were you not listening in the Hellmouth when I told you that I …” She paused in confusion, looking down to check her body language. Left hand on hip – translation ‘What the hell?’ right foot tapping impatiently – translation ‘Now I’m pissed off’ and right finger poking his chest – translation ‘What were you thinking?’ Oh shit. She looked up at Spike and then down again. Right finger sunk right through the middle of his none too solid chest more like it. On the verge of hysteria, she wondered what the translation for that would be.
Spike, confused by her silence looked down to see Buffy’s hand buried in the middle of his chest. Startled, he tried to grab her arm to pull it out, only to see his hands pass right through her wrist. He waved them back and forth a few more times before looking back at Buffy.
“Bollocks!” he said.
“Yup,” she thought, “that’s the perfect translation.”