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Author's Chapter Notes:
I know I know, I promised regular reviews and then I just dropped off the face of the planet. I’m sorry guys. The last few weeks I’ve been moving all of my stuff back to college and then add in the fact that I had family issues and I almost broke my ankle, not once, but twice in the same week, I’ve been uber busy. I’m sorry again and I hope I haven’t lost any readers. Reviews, even if they’re flames would be appreciated. Thanks again to Lindsay for editing my stuff. Now, I give you CHAPTER FOUR! =D
Chapter 4

An eternity

60 years later

Buffy had taken to her new life as a vengeance demon with relish, granting wishes to anyone and everyone that had any type of half way reasonable plight. In the sixty years, since she had elevated she had moved quickly and prestigiously through the ranks. D’Hoffryn had been right when he had said that he would grow fond of her. She fascinated him with the way she granted wishes; each one different and more imaginative than the last, never once repeating or mimicking a punishment. He’d grown to love her even more so than his prized Anyanka.

In a way D’Hoffryn thought of her as his daughter and she thought of him as her father; Giles thoroughly forgotten once she had seen what he had truly become. They spent many nights and days talking about her past and eventually she was able to come to term with everything. She forgot everyone in her past; the people, her favorite drink, her duties, her first lover…they were mere memories of a mortal but heroic time.

Willow had died in a freak accident involving a spell - taking with her Kennedy (Buffy thanked D’Hoffryn; he was her god now, for that) as well as almost two dozen slayers. The wishes she granted after that fiasco had secured her a spot in demonic history books and legends.

Giles had fallen off the edge he had been carefully walking since he had gone from being Ripper back to Rupert. The Council and many of its members falling off that edge as well. His lust and endless greed for power over the slayer line had caused an upset and a near full-scale civil war inside its secretive walls. A slayer swiftly removed his head from his neck with the sacred scythe when he had been fully overcome by a demon he had called upon for its powers. It was all such a shame really; the demon needn’t have died for such a trivial matter.

Buffy had never really thought much of checking on Xander, as far as she knew he was still off the grid somewhere in Africa, a small memory flickered across her mind, ‘You got your soul, why?...Why does a man do what he mustn’t…for her…’, and she embraced it, the memories of him the only ones worth keeping alive and well.

Dawn was the hardest of everyone to let go. Buffy checked on her every few years or so, never letting her know that she was doing so. Dawn was an old woman with a husband and several children and grandchildren. She had married her Italian stallion after all. The key had let Buffy go a long time ago, she still loved her but was happy that she could have a somewhat normal life, and for that, she was almost grateful that Buffy had disappeared from her life.

The only thing, rather person, he was NOT a thing, that had stayed with her was Spike. Day in and day out, he was with her in some fashion or another; in her dreams or around her neck in her new and improved talisman, either way he was always there.

Buffy had never gotten over him, nor had she tried. Many a time’s different demons of various species had asked her out on a killing spree disguised as a date. She had never once taken a single one up on their offers. Her heart did, and always would, belong to Spike.

On this particular night, the anniversary of her elevation and Spike’s final death, she celebrated and mourned. In the early hours of the day, she woke up, visualized a fantastic outfit, waited for it to poof into her closet, showered and dressed before teleporting to the monument she had erected in his honor.

It was a small stone building tucked away into one of the far corners of the castles grounds. The walls were made of an alabaster colored stone, shot through with onyx veins. The door was solid and heavy, made of a special type of dark wood. Running her fingernail along the edge of the key slot, she hit the special mechanism that opened the door.

Walking in, she surveyed the black onyx coffin. It held no body and no ashes, it was simply there for her to sit at and pretend that Spike’s body was there, even though she wore his remains around her neck. Kneeling down she reached for her pendant, stroking it lovingly before quietly starting to contemplate the last sixty years of her existence without him.

She hadn’t aged, hadn’t gotten sick. She’d granted wishes for anyone that had a worthwhile plight, and through it all, she had missed him. Missed his laughter, his smile, the way he made her feel. She had missed it all.

For the first few months, she had carried him around in her pocket, his ashes kept in a new ornate box. It was not until she had killed the Immortal that she had altered her pendant to keep him with her permanently.

She had asked D’Hoffryn for a special favor once she had massacred her once would be captor. D’Hoffryn used his magic to meld the ashes and glass together transforming her former plain, round, yellow glass center of power into a small gray and yellow swirled spike.

Focusing on the Immortal’s downfall, she watched her vengeance and Spike’s play across her memory like a movie

~~~~

Flashback:
She had spent months planning this, months watching and waiting, learning and honing her newfound powers. She had found that even though she was a vengeance demon, her slayer powers had stayed with her, improving like everything else about her. She was stronger, faster and now much more powerful than ever; she was lethal in her merciless glory.

After the Immortal had discovered her escape, he had raged and sent out all of his best and sleaziest spies and assassins. They were no match for her; she sent each one back to him, waiting on his doorstep, disfigured and dismembered with thorough notes describing how she had killed them, always finishing with a single line “See you soon, baby”. After dispatching nearly two hundred assorted demons, she had come for him.

It was late in the evening, the night cool and serene belying what was about to go down. She approached his villa, the one he had her held captive in, silently walking up the path; it wouldn’t do to let the cat out of the bag that she was new and improved. Reaching the stone steps that led to the front door she scaled them quickly, knocking on the door with sharp, swift raps of her knuckles.

The door swung open, a butler looking at her questioningly. “Miss Summers, you were not expected. I shall inform my master that you have come back to him at last. Please,” he motioned with his arm to the parlor adjacent to the entrance hall, “have a seat while I get the master.”

The butler took off up the winding staircase in search of his master. Buffy stood in the entrance hall in front of the door, the toe of her expensive, stylish red leather pump tapping impatiently. The man she sought to kill was taking FAR too long, she wanted to make him suffer already damn it!

It was nearly three agonizing minutes later when he finally started to make his grand entrance. “Bella, you’ve been sending me far too many presents lately. I do not appreciate the women I love sending my men back to me in pieces. Come, grace me with a kiss and all shall be forgiven. I know you were upset that I killed that blonde headed pest, but I did it for your own good Bella.” He reached the bottom of the stairs never once acknowledging the murderous look on her face. “Bella, you look beautiful, co…”

He was stopped short when Buffy lightly leapt across the entrance hall and grabbed him by the throat lifting him off his feet and effectively crushing his voice box. Turning to the butler that had crept along behind his master, she said, “Leave now and tell no one. If not, you and whomever else you call on for help will die by my hand. Leave.” Dismissing him from her presence, she turned back to the struggling form of her once would-be kidnapper, smiling evilly before teleporting out of the hall and into his bedroom.

A few whispered words and he was suspended from the ceiling by invisible chains. He hung there staring at her with a mixture of horror, surprise and oddly lust. The Immortal coughed several times before he was able to get his crushed larynx to loosen up enough for him to speak.

“Bella…I never knew you were so…erotic” his voice was rough, his speech breaking on every syllable.

Buffy took what he said in stride, realizing that even though he was turned on, he was still terrified of her; the smell of fear was saturating the air around her making her evil smile twist up just that much more. A few more whispered words and the chains keeping him hanging from the ceiling tightened causing his feet to rise from the plush beige carpet. She glanced down at the rug thinking to herself how tough it would be for the people who bought this place to get the blood out. ‘Oh well, I can always poof it somewhere else, no need to make others suffer through cleaning a blood soaked carpet.’

Refocusing her attention back on her prisoner, she shifted from her human mask to her new vein covered form. Her smile once again widened when he saw what she had become. “Like my new improvement? I sure do. You know I never realized this before, but I kinda owe you for the new and improved me. If you hadn’t taken me hostage and killed the ONLY person in this world that made me happy I never would have been elevated. I guess I gotta thank you for that huh?”

“Bella, you don’t really want to hurt me, think of what you have gained since I killed Spike…” his croaking voice was cut off as soon as Spikes name left his mouth. Flashing in front of him, her tiny fist circled his thick neck, squeezing with as much force as she could expound.

“YOU WILL NEVER, EVER, EVER! SPEAK HIS NAME AGAIN! YOU WERENT WORTHY ENOUGH TO LICK HIS BOOTS, YOU COWARDLY SNIPE OF A DEMON!” she screamed at him.

Releasing him with a rough shove backwards, she watched as he swung back and forth. Even though the chains were invisible, they were still cutting into his wrists, small drops of blood falling with a light pitter-patter onto the once immaculate rug.

Contemplating her next move she poofed a chair out of thin air and sat with a slight plop facing him. Quickly inspecting his body for other signs of pain, she decided her best move would be to cut his voice box out; she wouldn’t hear his screams, but hey she wouldn’t have to deal with his annoying accent either.

Reaching behind her, she pulled the long thin dagger from where it was hidden, wedged in between the small of her back and her tight black leather pants. The curved blade glinted in the light just as maliciously as her smile did.


Chapter End Notes:
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