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Author's Chapter Notes:
CHAPTER 35: Atrocity Exhibition

CHAPTER RATING: T/M (for violence, language, and Character Death Warning!)

CHAPTER PAIRING: Dawn & Clem, Spike/Buffy, Giles/Drusilla

TIMELINE/SPOILERS: AU after AtS "Not Fade Away"

DISCLAIMERS: All BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I'm just fixing their mistakes!

CHAPTER CREDITS: The fragments of songs Dru sings come from the following Current 93 songs: "At the Blue Gates of Death," "To Blackened Earth," and "Mary Waits in Silence".

CHAPTER NOTES: Ahhhh... here we are now! This chapter is a lot longer than my usual work. It will be switching points-of-view quite a bit as the action moves and becomes more frantic; that was not accidental. Nor was the ending. (I won't torture you, though; there will follow an Epilogue.) There's a British comedy reference, so Google Rik Mayall and Benny Hill if you don't know who they are.
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Okay, so maybe this would turn out to be one of the dumbest ideas he'd ever had. But right now, Spike was pretty much working with nothing. Surely, this couldn't hurt.

He and Tara were waiting at the bus stop for the 326 to head down Detroit Avenue to Madame Polina's place. Spike had the good witch gathered close to him, hoping to keep her at least a bit drier from the rain that had begun to fall. They were both soaked, but she still huddled against him. He found some comfort from that, despite all the bad luck they'd had recently. Please, let the fortune teller help us.

Willow was the freshest thing on their collective minds, but from deep in his heart a shiver rose—the familiar feeling he got when the Slayer was around. And not just any slayer. Buffy.

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The Slayer had spent the past twenty minutes or so in the RV's bathroom, heaving. She hadn't eaten anything since well before her doomed fight, but the pain in her side was so overwhelming that she was nauseous. Dawn changed the bandages for her when they were in Toledo and again when they passed by Sandusky. The bleeding had slowed by the time they got to Avon, but it hadn't stopped. Considering her rapid Slayer healing, this worried her.

Putting the lid down on the toilet, she gripped the small sink counter to sit for a moment. Please still love me, she mentally begged Spike. The tears she had held inside made slick trails over her cheeks then. All this commotion to reach him, and she might not even make it!

She whimpered with the pain, both physical and emotional. Why hadn't she realized how she felt years ago? So much heartache could have been avoided. Would they have destroyed The First quicker (and with less casualties) if she had just accepted what she was feeling? What would her life—all their lives—be like now if she hadn't been so...

Angel. Everything about her heart boiled down to him. Sitting there in that tiny little room, she was struck by the realization. All her failed relationships after him...they were due to her unskilled coping mechanism. He shattered her heart and her understanding of love. Of course she wouldn't be able to make something work after how he "taught" her!

Buffy let out an anguished cry. She could kill him. Maybe she couldn't before, back when she should have, back when it would have counted. But now, with the full awareness of how much he had manipulated her and her life (no, again, all of their lives)...

The thin door shook with a light knock. "Buffy? We're off the highway now. Clem says we're in Lakewood. Kinda like being back in California, huh?" When Buffy said nothing, Dawn continued. "He's gonna take surface streets now. So we can start looking."

Buffy ran her fingers over the tiny window, peering out. Rain was falling now, and she smiled a thin, bitter smile at the shivering couple waiting for a bus, hoping beyond hope for one last chance...

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"Boy, this place hasn't changed much."

Willow frowned at Angel's comment as they exited I-77 in downtown Cleveland. The vampire took the turn like the typical tourist, too fast and too sharp. The water that had puddled against the curb splashed high and managed to drench a homeless man who had been sitting on the grassy berm, ruining his "will work for food" sign.

She was about to say something to him about that, but he continued.

"So, where to?" Angel had to use his practiced, nonchalant voice now. He was filled with a sense of relief and excitement upon getting to see Spike again. But first things first—making sure he intercepted Buffy. This whole thing would be shot to hell (no pun intended) if she got to Spike first.

"West."

"Where west?"

Willow bit her lip. "Umm...I'm kinda not sure."

The vampire turned to her.

"I...didn't really pay attention." She blushed.

His demon rose a bit at the flush of blood (and out of impatient agitation), but he swallowed it down. "How do you expect to get back, then?"

The little witch hesitated. She could tell he was irritated by how controlled his facial movements were. Something inside her itched from this. A lot.

"If you could just drive down one of the main roads, I'd recognize it," Willow offered. She hoped that would be true. "Here, try this one. Superior Avenue. See, Superior; that's probably the best choice!"

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Giles was awoken by an unfamiliar voice.

"We don't all have Watcher's Council money to pay for our ingredients, Rupert. This is getting costly!"

He blinked his eyes and found himself curled in his bed, still holding Drusilla. She was unmoving and her eyes were closed, apparently having cried herself to sleep. He stroked her hair gently, carefully. Poor girl.

Just as he was about to nestle himself back down against her, the voice shouted out at him again.

"Fix your damn phone!"

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"Fuck!"

Spike craned his neck to look down the street. "Where's the fucking bus?"

He felt the witch's hand rest gently on his sternum. "It's only been five minutes. This is Cleveland, you know, not New York."

A sigh escaped his lips, and he patted his pocket for a cigarette. "Yeah, well, they should be more considerate. I mean, we could freeze to death out here."

Spike flicked the soggy cigarette to the puddle they were standing in, huffy.

Tara couldn't help but let out a flat laugh at his unintentional quip. "You know, the Scoobies never gave you credit for how funny you are." That crooked smile decorated her face. "Though, maybe that's cuz you're kinda more Rik Mayall than Benny Hill," she thought aloud, trying to justify their past reaction to him.

Spike rolled his eyes, then punched some numbers into his cell phone. It rang a few times before a gruff voice yelled on the other end. Spike yelled back "get your ass over here; I need you."

Tara looked up at him. She guessed by the tone that he was talking to Gar.

"Bugger that. Do it later. I need you now."

He broke away and started pacing. "For fuck's sake... you. can. re-. heat. it!"

The witch held her head.

"Arrrrrrrrrgh!" Spike growled as he ended the call, frustrated. Boy, did he miss the DeSoto.

"Right. Up for a little walk, pet?"

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"Here," Buffy said, surprising the drivers. They hadn't heard her come out of the bathroom, and now her dry voice sounded much more strained. "Stop here."

She pointed to an abandoned factory building just a bit east of W. 98th Street. Something had fluttered inside her like a few coaxing fingers of the Hellmouth.

Clem wasn't too sure. After his warning in Detroit went unheeded and the Slayer got injured, he was definitely not comfortable about letting her walk into a possible trap here on the Hellmouth. "Hey, umm... maybe we can stop at that gas station up the road... where it's well-lit. You know, for some directions. To...uh..."

Buffy shook her head as she held tight to the arm of the sofa. "No. It's here. Stop."

Dawn looked at the saggy-skinned demon and begged him to do as Buffy wished, even if she only said it with her eyes. She could tell that Buffy was worse than she'd let on. Dawn tried not to panic and instead wanted to make things easier for her sister. Even if no one else did, Dawn had definitely learned something from the past, from Sunnydale.

So, Clem reluctantly pulled the RV to the curb.

"You should stay here where it's safe. I'll call you."

"No way," Dawn replied, reaching her hand out to Buffy. "This time, we stay together."

Buffy wanted to argue. She didn't want to have to worry about anyone but herself, not with the shape she was in. But, she had also begun to see the woman that Dawn was starting to become. Loyal, brave, and resourceful. If this was going to be the end, Buffy wanted to proudly watch her sister carry on the fight.

"All right, but Clem—I want you to stay here and...protect the fort."

He looked at her nervously.

"She means keep this beast running in case we need to haul ass!" Dawn charged, giddy with excitement as the prospect of being Buffy's right-hand-man.

So, Buffy and Dawn made their way into the ruins—though not before Clem used his unique facial defense tactic to scare off some thugs who had looked to be getting ready to make a drug deal. When the saggy-skinned demon didn't sense any more humans at the site, he wished them luck and took up his place in the metal watchtower otherwise known as his old RV. Gathering some Diet Pepsi and a bag of Doritos, he settled into the driver's seat again for what could be a long night. Cell phones were all charged, and his sat there next to him patiently.

The silence gave him time to think. He didn't know much about Slayer health, but even he could tell that she was quite unwell. This journey was a long one, especially now with the battered shape she was in. He didn't want to be a killjoy, but if wishes really did come true, Spike would have been back in their lives already. Finding him on a Hellmouth was like finding a flea in a basket of Persians.

Clem leaned back, trying to keep crumbs out of his skin flaps. Those crunchy corn chips were as painful as they were nacho-cheesy. Stuffing his face, he didn't notice the sharp black sports car pulling off on the other side of the road.

.

.

"I think it's farther west than this," Willow said nervously. She didn't know why Angel had parked on the side of the road here. Next to them was an Arab grocery and on the other side of the street, bordered by decrepit row houses, was a vacant factory building.

Angel kept his eyes on the crumbling building. "I need to check this out. I have a feeling that what I'm..." He corrected himself quickly: "that there's trouble. I've got to help."

Isn't this how horror movies begin? Willow felt a thickness in her stomach. The twinges of the Hellmouth's addictive power were not helping matters. She reluctantly followed behind him as he skulked towards the factory. Her attention was caught for a moment by the warm light coming out of the oddly-placed RV they passed by. The inhabitant was really enjoying his Doritos, if the bag in his face was any indication. Lucky him. She wiggled her fingers and felt a teeny bit of the crackle of magic. Ooh! Lucky her, too—maybe she'd be able to tap the Hellmouth finally for help.

.

.

"Birth, earth, and dawn," the vampire whispered from beneath the tattered, century-old lace overlay of her gown. It had risen over her, cloaking her like a web. She was curled there out of the way of the Watcher, who had been working on the phone line. Tearing out the phone back when Angel had called him created more damage than he anticipated. He was nearly at the point of hiring an actual repairman, but Dru's delicate nature right now made him think otherwise.

He felt awful for having scolded her minutes ago, but this repair couldn't wait; her game could.

So now she pouted and sang herself uncomfortable little songs.

"He waits in the corner, watching

He waits in the quarter..."

Giles swore under his breath when the patch he had attempted didn't work. He looked over at the vampire and frowned.

She had gone back to her own inner world. For a short while when they both woke, she was lucid. An attempt was made to put into words what had been ailing her recently, but by the time she thought up what to say, her mind had fluttered, and the madness caught hold. Giles noticed that happening more and more, and its cause concerned him.

What he didn't notice right now were the tears that trickled down Drusilla's porcelain face.

"When you fall then

So shall I

As you stand in ruins

Ripped of light

Ripped of stars

Made of dust

And everything changes..."

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"Is this what it was like when you guys went back to the old high school after that Mayor stuff?"

Dawn stepped carefully over some dead rats.

"Nah. More like when we went back to the... oh." The factory. Spike's factory.

The younger Summers girl's eyes shot up, then around, misinterpreting the Slayer's interrupted response. "What is it?"

Buffy's mind came back to the present. "Huh? No, there's nothing... Wait." She stilled, gesturing to her sister to remain silent.

She thought she felt something. Something strangely familiar. A tingle she hadn't gotten in a long time. And then there was a voice that she couldn't possibly forget.

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"Are you sure this is where we should be?" Willow asked Angel. She was getting more and more uncomfortable the further they went into the abandoned structure. This was too much like that old factory she and Xander had been trapped in. (Yeah, and remember how well that turned out.) And something about Angel's aura had changed. She didn't know when that happened—and she still wasn't as good at seeing them as Tara was—but now that some of her magic was returning, she noticed. Was this a trap?

"Where are we...?"

Angel reached back and put a hand over her mouth. The action caught her breath and she stiffened. He noticed that and softened his demeanor, gesturing that he merely meant for her to be quiet. When she relaxed slightly, he motioned to a corner. There he stood still and waited, watching.

.

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"You doin' alright, pet?"

Spike found himself having to slow down a bit to fall into step with the good witch.

Tara nodded next to him. For so long now she hadn't needed to use muscles; she just floated and appeared wherever she needed to. But the more time she spent near him, the more corporeal she stayed. Trade-offs were trade-offs, though; she missed being able to feel things on the plane of existence, so she certainly wasn't complaining. Still, the good witch felt sorry for being a burden like this on Spike—they were in a hurry, and she was making him lag.

"I'm afraid it's a bit farther yet. But if the bloody bus ever shows up, we'll catch it, yeah?"

Tara nodded again, and Spike pulled her to him with a reassuring squeeze.

.

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Buffy's pulse sped up. There's no way she just heard what she did.

Dawn paid attention to Buffy's body language and neared her.

The Slayer had a hand on her side, hoping to temper the pain a bit. She inched forward, following the trail that the voice had traveled.

It took a few minutes, but the two women eventually found their way down a dark corridor. Moonlight filtered in through the cracked windowpanes and stripped roof, but it was barely enough. Dawn wanted to use her cell phone as a flashlight, but Buffy shook her head. The darkness needed to protect them in case this was a trick.

But as they approached the target area, Willow gasped in recognition of the figures. At the frightened sound, Dawn reached for Mr. Pointy until the witch showed herself.

"Buffy! Dawnie!"

Ignoring Angel's earlier warning, Willow dashed from their corner hiding place when she saw her friends.

"No way!" Dawn cried, meeting the witch in an embrace. "How the heck did you get here, of all places?"

Willow moved to Buffy, hugging her tight enough to elicit a cringe from the Slayer. "Oh, you wouldn't believe it..."

Buffy stiffened then and instantly lost all awareness of what surrounded her but the cause of the spidery feeling at the back of her neck. "Angel."

Dawn looked confused at Buffy's answer and the way she stood, her eyes almost accusatory. Or, maybe it was just the way the moonlight played on her features.

The sound of footsteps echoed before the vampire made his way out of the shadows, a smile on his face. "Buffy."

Slowly, Buffy's stance changed. In place of the defensive, injured girl, she became The Slayer—all muscle and instinct and calculation. "You cold-hearted, mother-fucking bastard..."

Dawn and Willow could have given a collective gulp. "He...rescued me in New Orleans, Buffy. Came up here to..." Willow was cut off by the sight of Buffy hurling herself at the big lug.

Angel should have expected this reaction, but he was not quick enough. Buffy's fist connected with his face, cracking something. "Buffy, wait..." he muttered, trying to grasp her hands to stop the attack early.

But she was having none of it. "Don't you dare, Angel." She threw another punch, this time catching his forehead.

He stumbled back a couple steps, but managed to steady himself. Buffy was favoring one side, so he considered using that to his advantage in the hopes that he could get her to stop and listen to him for a moment.

If Buffy hadn't been so consumed with rage, she'd have noticed he sized her up. Perhaps not like prey, but with his strength that was a moot point. He shoved her with the heel of his hand. She twisted momentarily in an attempt to dodge the touch but doing so only re-opened her unhealed wound.

The pained whimper she made sent Dawn to Buffy's side, only Angel was already moving towards a back-up shove. His hand caught Dawn's head and connected solidly. The momentum forced her skull to thump against the concrete wall, and she slid to the floor.

Their reactions sparked simultaneously. "Dawnie!" "I didn't mean..." "Oh God!"

Angel moved to check on the youngest, but Willow's fingers crackled with power.

"Congelāte!" the witch commanded, her pupils darkening her eyes.

Only, something went wrong. Instead of freezing Angel in place so that he couldn't cause any more harm, the spell made Willow motionless. She couldn't even move her lips to speak. Instead, she stood stock-still, her eyes forced to watch the tragic scene before her.

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As the blond couple passed the West Blvd. rapid station, something stirred within each of them. Spike twitched, his senses on high-alert. Tara felt the odd tear of planar fabric from a spell having been done. They looked at each other, then Spike took the good witch's hand in his and followed his nose.

They ended up by an old RV. From the sounds coming out of it, someone inside was asleep. But that's not what caught Spike's attention. The heady whiff of blood (and something else, something too familiar to be considered) made him rush the condemned building, apathetic to the consequences.

What they found changed the stakes of the game.

It was the Slayer's blood, his Slayer. How she got there, he didn't know, he didn't care, he didn't wait around to learn. Finding Angel crouching over her in this broken state brought forth his demon so quickly that all anyone else could see was a blur of activity as Spike rushed his grand-sire.

Buffy was bleeding heavily now, and she knew she had to be hallucinating. She was waiting for Angel to give her the final death blow, but instead she saw wispy visions of her savior, Spike. And then...Tara? Oh God, oh God, no, not yet, I'm not ready...

"Please, I can't go. Not until I find Spike. Just let me tell him I love him. Just let me hold him for a moment. Then...then you can take me with you." Tears were streaming down the Slayer's face.

Tara reached for her, slowly realizing what Buffy thought was happening. "No, Buffy, we're here to help." When their hands touched, both of the women looked at each other with wide eyes. How was that happening?

Behind the good witch, Angel and Spike were trading blows. It had gotten violent now, with various factory relics being used as weapons. Spike was so involved that he didn't even share one verbal barb.

Blood covered Tara's hands as she tried to assess the situation. Buffy was right to think that she was her angelic guide; the witch could see that the Slayer didn't have much time left if she remained like this. The injury was so deep that Tara needed ingredients to cast the kind of healing spell required. She looked behind her and noticed both Dawn and Willow, each trapped by their current conditions as well as the vampire duel; she couldn't reach them if she wanted to. So, without having many options, Tara tried to channel as much of the Hellmouth's energy she could handle to help Buffy, hoping that Spike could hold his own.

The power struggle between the two vampires was starting to work in Angel's favor now. Spike had come in hard and fast at the beginning, but not hard enough to defeat an opponent like Angel. The older vampire wouldn't admit this to anyone, but he had just gotten what he wanted. His heart broke a bit over Buffy's condition, but he hadn't created it, and with how bad it was, she wouldn't have made it even if he hadn't come along. So, if he could just keep up the fight with Spike long enough, he'd have the ending he wanted. Just like the old days. The fighting, and the fighting, and the fighting...with the resting, and the feeding, and the healing and the making up.

But, it was getting out of control. Like wild animals, they were tearing each other apart. Even as an underdog, Spike fought to win. He'd die like this if he had to. The overwhelming scent of blood and violence caused Angelus to rise to the surface. Angel was not strong enough to defeat that. So, the demons fought like never before, for their highest prizes, with every fiber of their being.

Tara couldn't watch them. Instead, she pressed her hand to Buffy's side, trying desperately to seal the wound or at least slow the blood loss. She wouldn't let her die. She couldn't. Ignoring what was happening behind her, she put all of her energy into trying to save Buffy.

She didn't notice Dawn stirring. Or rising, shakily. Or swallowing her fear and approaching the vampires. Or reaching out, her face in extreme concentration and purpose, her touch tearing the exhibition apart, screaming green light opening a rift. There. Within.

The terrified cry Willow released was only heard in her mind as she watched Dawn's beautiful hair become covered in an explosion of dust.

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From across the pond, Drusilla clutched at her heart, falling to the floor. As if to remind herself, she gasped:

"And something is finished

And something is born

In the place where words cease

In the moment when

Actions no longer matter..."

She had to stop there while she cried softly, sending a little prayer to the Heaven she'd never see. In the bed beside her, the Watcher slept on.

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