Each nameless, wall beyond wall, wavering redefinition of horizon.’
Spike glanced out of the window as the plane came in to land. The unfamiliar landscape of Tbilisi rushed up to meet them. He stared at it, his left leg jiggling rapidly, vibrating with an impatience that began deep down in his bones. God, the flight had seemed interminable. His nerves were shot through, both with edginess and anxiety.
Most of it was about Buffy of course, his beautiful girl lost out there, her and their baby taken from him, but just a tad was about the flying itself. He still found the whole aeronautic experience rather daunting. It wasn’t that he’d never flown before, but up until the amulet, if he had to fly, it was in the cargo hold, not the cabin. Easy enough to sneak in through the loading bay when you knew what you were about, and things were dark and quiet and peaceful down there. Much more vamp speed than this overcrowded, smelly, noisy carriage. Much less chance of immolation too.
Sitting here in the window seat, crammed in amongst the cattle, partaking of the proffered meals and free drinks, a fair few of those too to be honest, Spike couldn’t help but feel it was somewhat profane, to be carrying about his business in such a human way. During his Dru years, they’d looked down on air travel as a somewhat vulgar exploit, sneered at the thought of travelling like sardines in a can, hurtling across the world as if time were the enemy. But of course, for humans, time was the enemy, hastening them on towards their own deaths, minute by minute, second by second.
Time meant nothing to vampires. A day, a week, a month, it’s all the same when your immortality stretches out endlessly before you. He and Dru’s favorite mode of travel had always been the big trans Atlantic ships, now and again a fancy passenger liner, but mostly the sturdy freighters; the pair of them sequestered safely away in the bowels of the cargo hold. Passage might take days, or even weeks, but who cared when time wasn’t an issue.
Well things had certainly changed for Spike these days. More than just the effects of the amulet, or even the soul, it was living in the human world, crammed in cheek by jowl with them, marking time with their clocks and schedules and timetables that had changed him. Time had become measurable, precious. Spike could appreciate that, now more than ever.
Now that Buffy was missing. Now that time, as they say, was of the essence, was at the crux of all things. ‘Cos that was the truth wasn’t it? Time! While it dragged by incessantly for him, with endless rounds of talking and planning and researching and talking some more until he was about ready to rip their fucking heads off, it might be almost at an end for his darling, she could be almost out of it. And that terrified him, paralyzed him.
So the jittery, jangly nerves, the dancing leg muscles, they were all that he was permittin’ himself to reveal in terms of his fear. God, he wanted to scream and rant and tear and fucking wail his anguish out to the world. But he’d kept himself pretty tightly reined in. Well, the others might not see it that way. They might call him on the odd tantrum, the occasional meltdown, the intermittent crying jags. But he still rated that as fairly well controlled given the writhing, howling, desperate state of his insides.
If forced to admit it, Spike supposed he’d have to say he’d always been a fairly emotional sort of bloke, even as a vampire. The turning was s’posed to dampen all the drama down, flatten out the highs and the lows, so that his actions, his deeds, could become more purposeful, more calculated, less reactionary. But it never seemed to really take with him. Oh he could shove it down, make it less visible, a trick he learned early on round Angelus. Was never a good idea to expose any heightened emotions around the old bastard, just gave him an excuse to impart one of his many training sessions. Or torture as Spike called it.
Even Dru was no respecter of his finer feelings. Love had to be wrapped up and doled out appropriately, as the side dish to a main meal comprising violence, mayhem, passion and blood, or not at all. Allowing his emotions to shine through at the wrong time had gotten Spike into a mess of trouble at times. If she was coherent and strong, she could be a nasty, mean bitch, his wicked plum. She would take his weakness and flay him alive with it, or undead at least, taunting and twisting and clawing her way through his hopes and fears. So unless he was feeling particularly submissive at the time, he learned to put his emotions away, up on a high shelf, out of sight, out of reach.
But no matter the tricks he employed to push them down, at the heart of it all, that’s what he was. An emotional man.
It had served him well enough in his dealings with the Slayer though. Well maybe not at the beginning, not when he’d wanted to kill her, although looking back now, perhaps it was always his emotions that’d got in the way of doing that job too, his impatience, his pride, his obstinacy. Probably didn’t work in his favour during the midgame either, what with him foolishly, predictably falling head over heels for his mortal enemy, and she so filled up with the loathing that the only thing she could think to do was to fuck it out of him. But here now, in this little slice of unlife, being a sentimental fool was a fine thing. Or it would be once he got her back again.
“Come on Billy, get your ass up,” Faith’s voice intruded on his musings, dragging him back from his contemplation enough to realize that the plane had not only touched down and taxied over to the arrivals terminal, but was already hooked up to the gate. Huh, seemed like there were ways to make time pass more quickly after all.
He flicked his seatbelt catch open, reached down to snag his carry on luggage, and stood up, stretching out his cramped muscles before nipping into line behind Faith. Ahead of her were Rupert and Khatia, the little slayer coming home to play tour conductor and mountain guide. Behind him, came Tara, slipping up close and pressing her gentle hand to the curve of his back. Finally, Xander and Rowan brought up the rear. Such good friends these people were becoming, family, each of them holding a piece of his heart.
They shuffled along slowly in the queue, waiting to disembark. Spike stood in the center of their little group, and his eyes stung as he thought about how much these folk had been there for him over the last two days. Organizing flights, van rentals, hotel bookings, the practical stuff, but also the mystical stuff, Xander and Faith sorting out a small crate of weapons to take, and another of caving equipment, Rupert and Rowan sorting through a mound of magical texts, working out a whole raft of different spells, some of them pretty dark by the sounds of their discussions, anything that’d come in handy, then boxing up all of the candles and herbs and powders they’d need to pull them off.
And as for Glinda, darling Glinda. She’d been there to absorb the worst of his rages, hold him sweetly through the depth of his grief, stay by his side through all of his guilt and self-recriminations. When he’d gone on and on about wasted time, about how he should just leave the lot of them to be and strike out on his own, that he just needed to be there now, now, now, she’d reminded him that the rescue mission needed to be well thought out and well prepared if they had any chance of bringing Buffy home without harm.
And throughout all of that long day, the twenty fours from Khatia’s little announcement through to stepping onto the plane, she’d not left him alone, not once, even curling up next to him on Dawn’s bed, sharing with him that little respite from his constant despair about Buffy, to acknowledge Dawn’s absence, their fear about his sweet little Bit. He’d spent hours throwing accusations at her, asking her what use the whole Guardian deal was if they couldn’t do shit about keeping his girl safe. Then hours begging for her forgiveness, telling her what a bad, rude man he was to treat his dearest friend so badly.
Nothing had fazed her. She’d just smiled her little Mona Lisa smile and snuggled up next to him. God, the girl was more than an angel, she was a saint. Not to disregard his beautiful Buffy, especially in this time of crisis, but he almost envied Red and Wolf. What a cozy little arrangement they had, with the luscious Ms Tara squeezed in between them each night.
The shuffling bit was finally over, the queue dispersed and their baggage heading towards them on the carousel. Xander organised a couple of carts and they loaded them up. Clearing customs seemed tediously long but was no more than the usual rigmarole according to Rupert and Faith.
By the time they were through, it was almost six o’clock and night had already fallen. The Watcher had signed for the rental van at the desk inside and they picked it up from the commercial parking area and loaded their bags in the back. Everyone was quiet as Rupert followed Khatia’s directions to the motel that Cat had booked them into, probably all exhausted.
When the old man had told him that they were staying the night at Tbilisi, Spike had lost the plot, ranting and raving about lost time, screaming that it wouldn’t worry him if was dark, that he could drive through the dead of night as if it were midday. But Rupert wouldn’t budge. Said they’d all be tired and in need of sleep. Said they’d be strangers in a strange land, with only wee Khatia to guide them, and her not much past childhood, and nervous about her navigator’s role, never having been behind the wheel of a car herself. Let Spike know that their weapons and climbing gear and all their magical omnium-gatherum were still at the airport, cargo not being off loaded until after luggage, and would need to be inspected and then signed for in the morning.
He’d subsided at that point, reluctantly resigned himself to the delay. It turned out to be a late night anyway. After ordering room service, they’d pulled out the maps and numerous photos that Rowan and Khatia had downloaded, familiarising themselves with the lay of the land and finalising their game plan once more. Rowan and Tara had brought enough simple ingredients in their carry on luggage to perform another simple locator spell, but it still fizzled. Spike wasn’t surprised. The connection was still down for him as well.
He was surprised to find himself as exhausted as the others by the time he tumbled into bed. Glinda, done up in purple and orange p.js came padding after him, hopping under the covers and snuggling up to him with a grin on her face at his shocked expression. Thank god he’d pulled an old pair of workout pants on first.
“Are you sure Red and Oz would be okay with this pet?”
“Absolutely. They trust me.”
“But do they trust me?’ he asked, attempting as best as he could, while cuddled up to a pyjama clad guardian angel, to bring his Big Bad on.
Tara just giggled and slapped his chest. “Of course they do. And if they didn’t, well I certainly do. From the bottom of my heart.”
“Shit Glinda, you oughtn’t to say stuff like that. If word gets around, my reputation will be fucked.” Spike paused, listening carefully in the silence of the room. “So I’m guessing Red and Oz know, but when you gonna share your news with the rest of the gang,” he said, laying his hand gently on her belly.
“Oh,” she paused, and even in the darkness Spike could see the pink glow colouring her cheeks. “Oh. I suppose you can’t keep secrets from a vampire for long. We were going to do the big share this weekend, you know, during the Saturday night ritual. But it wasn’t the right time. Plenty of opportunity once we’ve got Buffy and Dawn back at home.”
“Sure pet, that sounds about right. We’ll have ourselves a good old knees-up. Be plenty to celebrate then. Another baby to join the crèche, my good girls home safe … s’s’safe and …” Spike broke down, turning away from Tara as he wept silently.
Tara spooned up against his back, wrapping her loving arms around him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m so scared. I want to hold onto hope, I really do, but I just don’t know how. Not being able to sense her, to feel that little reassuring tingle that’s just always there, it just terrifies me. It’s like she’s really gone, you know? And then, to see that locator spell fizzle out tonight. I want to have faith, I really do, but when the only thing, the only thing, we’ve got to go on is some hinky dream from the great beyond, I just don’t know.”
“You know Spike, I wasn’t around at the time, but I got to watch a fair bit of it, and both Willow and Buffy herself have filled me in on lots of the details, so I’m pretty sure I’m an expert on this. When you were gone, and I don’t just mean lost or even taken, but gone, actually gone, in a big blazing bonfire, Buffy didn’t ever give up on you. Even though she watched you burn, even though everybody, and I mean everybody, told her you were gone, gone for good, and even though her Spike tinglies were gone, she wouldn’t let go.”
Spike turned around and stared at Tara, a flicker of hope on his face.
“The only thing she had to cling onto were her gut instincts and the dreams she had each night. But she never gave up. She sat by the edge of the Sunnydale crater until the others dragged her away and threw her on a plane, all under protest. When she found out about the prophecy, she yelled and demanded and stamped her foot until the others sat up and took note. She shook her fist at the world until it coughed you back up. She never gave up on you Spike. Don’t you think you owe her the same tenacious loyalty?”
“Oh fuck, fuck you’re right.” He struggled to sit up, was trying to get up. “I’m such a useless bastard. Promised her, didn’t I, that I’d protect her, keep her safe. To the ends of the earth I said. Now look at me, at the first hint of trouble, I fold like a pack of cards.”
He was standing there during the rant, trying to work out how to get his trackies off and his jeans on without Glinda seeing his wedding tackle. Was about to just go for it anyway, what with the witch being in the family way and all, thinking she’d be well acquainted with a bit of cock by now. And with the current climate of melancholy and self-reproach, it was pretty unimpressive anyhow, poor little thing.
“Spike, what are you doing?” Tara said patiently.
“I’m getting dressed aren’t I? Gonna head off and start hunting for Buffy. Not gonna ever give up on her.”
“Okay, well you start off now, and we’ll catch you up later in the day if you don’t manage to get lost along the way. We’ll just get the weapons and the gear and the spells and charms we’ll need, and see you some time after lunch, by which time you’ll be tired and frustrated, and beyond pissed, and no closer to finding her than if you’d waited for the rest of us.”
“Oh.” He said, slumping down onto the foot of the bed. “Guess I didn’t consider that. Not much of a team player really. Or a strategist. Never been known for my patience either. Just feel like the clock’s ticking, while all we seem to be doing is marking time like a bunch of bloody soldiers.”
“Fair enough, I get that you’re frustrated. But, I’ve been wondering, about the dream that you and the slayers had. Which, by the way, is totally unprecedented, you having a slayer dream. We've got to look into the whys and hows of that when we get home, check you're not growing boobs and shriveling up downstairs.”
Spike growled, but it was in good humour, and he was grateful to Glinda for trying to pull him out of his funk.
“Okay, you're still all with the manliness. But, I was thinking about the fact that slayer dreams are usually prophetic, meaning that they give you a heads up about events that haven’t yet happened, right?”
Spike shrugged, “Yeah, that’s the case as far as I understand.”
“So the dream from Friday night, it wasn’t showing you something that’s already happened, it’s giving you a glimpse into the future. The near future maybe, but the future nonetheless.”
“Oh. So what you’re saying is that Buffy is going to be in that place at some time, but maybe not yet? That maybe she’s still somewhere other?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Tara shrugged. “And it kinda fits in with her not showing up on the radar yet, ours or yours.”
“Well, it’s as good a theory as any pet, as far as theories go. Makes me feel better too, more purposeful and less inadequate. And at this point, I’ll take whatever leg up I can get.” He paused. “Thanks Glinda. You're a bloody awesome Guardian, to forlorn vamps as much as to slayers, and an even better friend.”
‘Well Big Bad, you're an easy man to be friends with. Not that I've had that pleasure too often, of being friends with a man. After Daddy and Donny, I never had much to do with the ‘y’ chromosome.” Tara flicked back the bedcovers on Spike’s side of the bed. “Come on, get back in bed. You need a good night’s rest if you're gonna rescue Buffy tomorrow.”
Spike clambered back into bed and drew Tara in to pillow her head against his chest.
“Having more than a bit to do with the ‘y’ chromosome these days though, aren’t you my sweetling. Assuming Wolfboy’s the father an’ all.”
“Spike,” she squealed, “Of course Oz is the father.”
“Hmm, how’s that work out then, you being a card carrying member of the Sapphic Society an’ all?”
Tara peeked up at him and grinned wickedly. “As long as it’s him, ends up that it works out just fine. In fact, I've rather taken to it. Of course it’s better if I’ve got my girl alongside as well. Or above, or below.”
“Bloody hell Glinda, you're a dirty bitch,” Spike said admiringly. “And a greedy one too by the sounds. Good for you. Nice little set up you’ve got there. Lovely they are, the both of them.”
“Hmm, I didn’t know you swung in that direction Spike.”
“Vampire, sweet girl, we swing in every direction. Never taken it up seriously, never really had the time what with traipsing around after Drusilla like a lamb, but I’ve dabbled a little over the years. Sometimes reluctantly, sometimes of my own free will. Always found it to be scintillating.”
“Oo, I like that. I think I’m having myself a fair bit of scintillation these days.”
“Ha-ha, you’re a lucky girl all right. So, tell me about this pregnancy. It’s planned right, not the result of uncontrollable lust like Red’s one?”
“Well, there was plenty of lust, some of it pretty uncontrollable even, but yes, the pregnancy was definitely planned. In fact it took a little bit longer than I thought it would to join the baby club. But maybe that’s just what happens when you come back from being all ethereal and otherworldly. Takes a while to jump start your, ah, cycle again.”
“Can’t say it took you too long Glinda, you’ve only been part of the corporeal club for four weeks. Can’t expect to immediately get signed up membership of all the other clubs going at Ashdown.”
“Yeah, you're right. It’s just that Willow got pregnant after only one episode of coitus, and Buffy, Rowan and Cat were the same. Well not just one episode obviously, but one round with our special little fertility boost. I was practically wrapped around Sagaria while we were doing the wild thing. It made for some pretty whacky positions, believe me.”
“So this is gonna be another little Scion huh?” Spike said, sliding his hand down to rest on her belly again. “Another wee superbrat.”
“Just more fodder for the cause, ay?” Tara’s tinkling laughter filled the air. “Of course this child will be part of the new generation. I have no problem putting myself into the same situation you’ve all been placed in. In fact, I’ve made that decision knowingly. But Spike, I’m not having this baby just because I want to churn out another little warrior. I can’t wait to become a mother, and I happen to think I’ll be a damn good one.”
“Course you will sweetling, the finest mum any child’s had the good luck to spring from. You’ll teach the others a thing or two, I don’t doubt.”
“These children are going to be so blessed. Growing up together in the wonderful enclave that Ashdown is already becoming. Of course there’ll be dangers and challenges ahead, but we have a better chance of keeping them all safe and sound when we’re together. I can't wait.”
“I’ll take your word on that. Now’s rest time for all brood mares, so off to sleep with you my sweet girl. Hope my darling love is getting some rest too, wherever she is.”
“She’ll be doing what she needs to do Spike. She won’t give up. She knows you're coming for her.”
“That I am, Glinda, that I am.”
The room fell silent after that, and in the dark Spike could hear Tara’s heartbeat slow into its steady resting rhythm. Exhausted from all of the emotional turmoil, his eyes felt heavier and heavier, until they slowly drifted shut.
Suddenly he could hear a sound, a faint scrabbling noise. He opened his eyes again, peering around intently through the dark of the room. Glinda must have shuffled over to the other side of the bed; he couldn’t feel her warmth pressed up against him anymore. The noise came to him again, then a slight clank, almost as if something hard was grating against the surface of a rock.
Spike frowned and peered more intently into the gloom. He sat up, finally noticing that he wasn’t in his bed anymore. Shifting into vamp face, he looked around. Instead of a shabby but comfortable motel room, he found himself in a long, narrow, winding tunnel. It was too low to stand up in and very steeply inclined. His left hand was wrapped around a bright yellow nylon rope. As he peered through the gloomy tunnel, lit only by a small, and at times obscured, halo of light up ahead, he noticed the figure scrabbling up the slope in front of him.
He couldn’t pick out many details, just the muddy trainers and the small stature of the person. His heart skipped one of its slow beats, and he shifted, his demon-enhanced sight granting him the additional vision needed to confirm what his heart had begun to already suspect. The girl scrambling steadily along that steep passageway was his own. His own precious, darling Buffy, as hale and hearty as ever. His vamp hearing picked up the extra little heartbeat, drumming away merrily, verifying that all was well with mother and child.
Spike’s heart surged with elation, the sense of relief almost overwhelming. But slowly, as they continued plodding along, the realization that this was undoubtedly just a dream began to coalesce in his mind. Another one of those damn precognitive ones no doubt. Interestingly, this insight didn’t induce any sense of disappointment or anticlimax, didn’t send him plummeting back into the depths of despair. Instead he felt energized, infused with a sense of purpose and determination.
That feeling remained with him as he awoke the next morning, Tara still wrapped around him. Spike lay there in the early light of that new day, bathed in an aura of confidence and optimism, thoughts whirling around in his head as he planned what would need to happen and when. Gently, he shook Tara awake.
“Come on sweetling, time to get cracking, got much to do and miles to go before we can leap into that abyss and rescue my beloved.”
Tara yawned, stretched, then grinned sleepily at him. “Had a little revelation in the night did we?”
“Yep, I did, and you were right. This is gonna work, I’m sure of it. I’ll explain the whys and wherefores once we hit the road,” he said, leaping out of bed. “Come on pet, up and at ‘em. Feeling pretty impatient to be on our way.”
By the time they were dressed and packed and down at reception with Faith and Rowan, Giles, Xander and Khatia were back from their run to the airport, crates stacked neatly in the back and take out coffees and breakfast muffins on hand. Throwing the luggage in the back and clambering into their seats had taken less than five minutes, and suddenly they were on the road, the six and a half hour journey to the resort town of Gagra stretching out before them.
As soon as they’d eaten and recaffeinated themselves, Spike shared his dream with the rest of the team. They agreed that the various details, Spike following Buffy and the upward incline of the tunnel, indicated that the vision provided a glimpse of the rescue, a very promising preview of what was to come. When Rupert questioned whether they seemed to be on their own or in the company of others, the only thing Spike could recall was the flickering light source up ahead, as if someone with a headlamp on was leading the way up.
The dream led to their first proper discussion about the conditions in the cave – Krubera – and what the reality of the descent and rescue might be like. Rowan, Faith and Khatia had done most of the research on this topic, and Spike listened with a growing realization of how difficult this task would be, even for a vampire and a slayer, with their enhanced abilities.
“This is pretty astonishing timing Spike,” Rowan said, “Three months ago, in August, the Ukrainian Speleological Association organized an expedition that managed to explore the cave down to a depth of 1,840 meters. Then, just last month, they headed back down, this time discovering a lead into a new section that got them down as far as 2,080 m, the first time that a depth of 2,000 m has ever been passed in speleology. It’s cold, dark, narrow and challenging down there. Cavers have described it as like climbing Mt Everest but in reverse. I think you’ll find it one of the most challenging feats you’ve ever had to do.”
“I’m pretty sure that if a bunch of poncy scientists can pull it off, then I’ll be fine,” Spike said, with a bravado that was more surface than deep set.
“Hmmph! More like a bunch of extremely experienced and adrenaline charged cavers who have been training their whole lives for this opportunity and are backed up by swags of equipment and support crew,” Rowan said snippily. “Don’t take this lightly Spike. Not only do you need to find your way down into the bowels of the earth, through an extremely inhospitable setting, but you need to do it quickly, and with enough weaponry on hand that you’ll be able to fight off Buffy’s captors and then bring her all the way back to the surface.”
“Alright pet, fair enough. Just trying to keep myself positive and focused is all. So how am I gonna go about achieving this impossible task then?”
“The first challenge will be getting to the cave. Its entrance is set in the Ortobalagan Valley, high in the Arabika Massif. And I do mean high, over 2,000 m above sea level. We’ve contacted a guide that will take you by four wheel drive as far as the topography will allow, but from there you’ll have to hike uphill, a day’s journey to get to the valley. Your packs are loaded with sleeping bags, two-person tents, clothing, food, water, ropes, climbing equipment, weapons, everything you’ll need for the expedition.”
“Okay, so I take it I’m not going up to the valley on my own?”
“No. Faith, Khatia and Xander will accompany you, as well as the guide who will lead you all the way up to the valley and wait until you return.”
“Okay, but I’m heading down the hole on my own right?”
“No Spike,” Giles spoke up. “Faith and Rowan and I have talked at some length. Faith will accompany you on the journey through Krubera. She’s as strong as you are and almost as passionate about finding Buffy.”
“And itching for the chance to kick some kidnapping arse,” she said, winking at the vampire.
“Alright, don’t have a problem with Rogue traipsing along, long as she doesn’t hold me up any.”
“Okay, that’s settled,” Giles said. “We are meeting our guide, Alexander, at 7 a.m. tomorrow morning. Once we arrive in Gagra, I want you and Faith to use the time to familiarise yourselves with the layout of the cave, with the equipment and techniques needed for traversing its depths and for talking with Rowan about the spells and charms she’s sorted out for you to take with you.”
“Yes boss, sounds good,” Spike said cheekily. More quietly, as if to himself, he added, “Soon, Buffy, soon pet, I’ll be there. Hold on, I’m coming to get you.”