Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Mutant Enemy and Fox. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
***
As she leapt, predestined, into the vortex, the Slayer leapt into death. Dawn, the Key, was screaming above her, but all she could hear was a white hum growing louder and louder until it was deafening. She went blind; she never saw herself fall. Then everything was numb, and there was silence, and total blackness, and for what seemed like days all she could feel was a softness like cotton balls all over her body. She was pretty sure she was dead, but she didn't know what that meant, this time.
Finally, she heard a familiar voice. "Buffy Summers," he said.
Buffy opened her eyes; she was only barely aware that they had been closed. There he was, right there with her, wherever they were, in a vast space of white intangibility.
"Spike?"
Spike grimaced. "Who?"
Buffy then noticed that Spike was wearing a ruffled shirt and a top hat. His hair was a natural brown, his nails were unpainted, and there was something very different in his eyes. "Where am I?" she asked.
"Welcome to Heaven, love," he said. "My name is William, and I'll be helping you get acquainted with your afterlife."
"Not William," she said groggily. "You're Spike. What's going on?"
"No, I promise you I'm William." He looked at her like she’d hit her head. Perhaps she had. "We've never met before. I'm here to show you around."
She stared at him. The voice was the same, but she noticed he was speaking in a higher accent, more like Fitzwilliam Darcy than any way she remembered Spike ever talking. She took in his strange appearance. The face was much the same, but the eyes were very different. They were alive, like a man's. And his hair was so normal!
Buffy realized then who he was. "You're Spike's soul." This was William, before he became Bloody. Buffy was amazed. She didn't know the souls of vampires got to go to heaven, and she found it somewhat comforting. No matter what scourge the vampires were, they could not touch this place. Heaven.
I'm in Heaven, Buffy realized, for the first time. I'm done.
"Is something wrong?" Spike, or that is, William, asked. "You sound knackered."
She considered him. "Do you know who I am?" she asked.
"Word from the top is, you're some sort of demon hunter who died saving the world." He smiled. "Much more noble than the way most of us went, as far as I know."
"You know," Buffy told him, "we’ve met, in a way."
He shook his head. "Not possible, love. I died over a hundred years ago."
She lifted her chin and stared. He said nothing. "I'm a vampire slayer," she said, watching him. "We've met many, many times."
"Oh, that," he said, scratching his neck, squirming a little. "Vampire. Someone told me my body was running about, doing all that. Hope he wasn't a tremendous thorn in your side."
Buffy smiled. "Oh, he was my mortal enemy for a while, but we teamed up towards the end. He's called Spike."
"Oh, well, decent of him to use an alias, at least. Call me William." And he held out his hand. "Come with me."
No sooner had her skin grazed his than they were out of the cool white nothingness and in the middle of a crowded bazaar. "As you can imagine, there's a lot of souls up here by now, though not quite as many as the other place," he said, with a wink. "You can do whatever you like now. It's Heaven. You can even check on the world of the living. Everyone does, at first."
"At first?"
"Eventually, everyone realizes that nothing on Earth really matters," William explained. "It's all a dress rehearsal for this. This is it, love, what's real. This, here, is Forever."
Buffy shivered, pulling in on herself. "But... my sister... Willow... what if...?"
"Safe, all safe," he said, and with a wave of his hand he opened a window into space through which she could see. And there they were all safe, all well.
"They're sad," she noticed.
"They've just lost you." He touched her cheek and felt their contact explode with good feeling. "They'll see you again, soon enough."
He looked sad, suddenly, and Buffy frowned. "What do you mean?"
William blushed. It was something she had never seen before, color in Spike's cheeks. He closed his hand, and the window disappeared abruptly. He stammered, "That is to say... drat... well, you know, everybody dies. I didn't mean you would be going back to earth, no. Forget I said anything. Yes... everybody dies."
"Oh, right," she said, blinking. "I guess I knew my friends would get to come to heaven."
"Yes, that's exactly what I meant. Forget I said anything." He looked down, and away.
William was an odd sort, she decided, and very British. Buffy looked around. "So is there someplace I live?" she asked.
"If you like," William said, and he held out his hands. When she touched his fingers, they were in a room, bright and pleasant, smelling of fresh flowers.
"Nice digs," she said.
"It's Heaven," he replied.
"How do you do that?" She pointed at his hands.
"It's just making a wish," he said. "In time you will be able to do it yourself."
"So what is your deal?" Buffy asked. "Are you some kind of spectral tour guide? Do you get paid for this?"
"I've just been assigned to help you adjust," William explained. "I'm your helper. When you're ready, He will assign you to help someone else, and so on."
"He?"
"You know... the Big Cheese."
"Oh, right," she said, and pointed upwards.
"No, actually," he corrected, and pointed east.
"But why you, Spike? Why did He assign you to me?"
"William," he insisted, and shrugged. "Who can explain what He does. Perhaps there is something between us."
She smiled— best not to tell him— and he left. When he was gone she lay down on the bed, soft as a cloud, and was absorbed instantly into sleep.
Buffy dreamed about her mother, and when she awoke Joyce was there. "Mom!" she cried, and jumped into her arms. She felt light and insubstantial. Buffy looked at her sadly and whispered, "Are you alright?"
Joyce didn't answer. She only looked at her, her eyes full of love and sadness, and then faded away.
"She's just not ready," she heard, and turning, she saw William enter the room. "Some people aren't ready to die, so when they arrive they hardly exist. Give her some time. Appearing to other people at all is a good first step."
"How long will it take?"
"No telling," he said. "It took me thirty years."
"Thirty years?!"
"I was bloody surprised!" he said. "Anyway, it's no worries, now, Buffy. We're in Heaven. Time is pennies here."
"When I touched her, she seemed like only a fraction of what's real." Buffy turned her hand over, remembering the shadow feeling. "Less than air."
William nodded. "Welcome to the afterlife. We're in Paradise but it's confusing as Hell."
"But when I touch you," she said, and she reached out and touched his arm, "it feels more than real. It feels like, I don't know, like I'm touching..."
"...my soul?" he suggested, and touched her shoulder. Now their bodies formed a closed circle, and the feeling suffused her. Her eyes widened. They stared at each other.
"You're different than most of us, Buffy," he said. "You were so ready to die."
"I did what I had to do, Will," she replied calmly. "I'm the Slayer."
They stood there, silently, pleasantly, for a long time. William felt a completeness in her company that he could barely explain. There was a soft mist in the air that made everything look painted, and Buffy's soul was glowing. Then she jumped.
"What?" asked William.
"This is Heaven, right? They must have the best ice cream up here." William nodded. Buffy giggled, wished it, and she was gone.
William exhaled. He ran his hand along the warmth where she had been. She had been so ready to die. Would she be ready to go back?
Now that she had learned to exist for herself, so quickly, William's job as her helper was done. Still, he found it difficult to leave her. This was in part because he knew what she did not, that a misguided witch would use her arts to drag her back to the mortal plane. Buffy's time in Heaven, for now, was limited. He could barely describe what that made him feel for her: sorrow, compassion, guilt. But there was something else that he could not describe at all, something deep within himself that had been hidden for as long as he could remember.
He joined her for ice cream.
"You can get any flavor you want here," she exclaimed when she saw him. "Did you know this? I could get a cherry popcorn sundae, if I wanted."
"I've always been partial to chocolate mango with sprinkles, myself." He moved to stand beside her at the bar. "But I guess I'm a traditional sort."
He smiled, quite winningly, and Buffy laughed. "You know, this is great. You're just like Spike, without the nasty habit of killing people and sucking their blood."
"Can you do me a favor?" William said. "Next chance you get, can you stake that bastard? He's ruining my reputation."
"Next chance I get?" Buffy gave him a sidelong glance. "Will, what are you talking about?"
"Eh... nothing. Just being hyperbolical." He reached out and touched her cheek. He felt it again, that spark, the light and the connection.
She felt it too. "Does it always feel like that?" she asked, quietly.
"No," he said. It didn't. "It means that our souls, our two destinies, are intertwined.
She smiled. All she knew was that she felt close to him, and it filled her with warmth. But William was beginning to understand what it really meant. Their souls were connected, that touch confirmed it. But destinies could not meet in Heaven; they met on Earth. He knew she was going back. And, somehow, so was he.
Buffy was watching him with bright eyes and he took a deep breath. "I've been in Heaven a while," he told her. "A long while. Most of the time I've been pretty aware of my surroundings. I've been pretty happy. Shockingly happy, what. It's heaven."
He looked at her with pale blue eyes. "But I've never felt this way before. I'm filled with something so big and indefinable that there's nothing else left. Like there's no point in sleeping anymore, because I could be with you instead. And I may sound stupid saying this, but I think, well..."
"You sound like you're writing poetry," she said.
"Well, actually, I have been writing a poem about you," he began, and started to pull a wrinkled piece of paper out of his pocket.
She stopped him, grabbing his hand. "That's really not necessary, William. I've heard all about your... poetry. Anyway, I already know how you feel." She dropped his hand and shrugged. "You love me."
William blinked. "You sound like you've always known," he said.
"Well, I've been suspicious of you from the start," she explained. "See, your alter ego, Spike... he's in love with me, too."
"Ah, the bloody vampire." William looked down sadly. "You can't look at me without seeing him, can you?"
"Nope."
"So you don't love me?"
"I've been in love twice, Will, and both ended badly. Being a vampire slayer isn't easy." She shifted beside him. "I have to guard myself against feelings like this."
He looked up. "So you do feel something?"
Buffy turned and took a step towards him. "You know how I feel," she said. "You feel it every time I touch you. That's how this works, isn't it?"
He nodded and he touched her, lightly. He felt it again, stronger each time, the electricity filling the space between them. It seemed as though everything had begun to glow. "Let me hold you," he said.
Buffy paused. "I'm frightened."
"There's nothing to be afraid of," he said. "Nothing bad can happen. You can stop worrying, at least while you're here. Trust me."
But Buffy looked at his face, and it was Spike's face. She recoiled. He waited for her. Then she looked into his eyes. They were sparkling and vivid. She felt the electricity coursing between them.
"No," she said finally. "Not now, but maybe someday."
Then she was gone.
William stared after where she had been and sighed. He took off his top hat and began turning it over in his hands. He had been in love before, too. He remembered Cecily quite clearly: it had gone badly, and then he had died. She had never made it up here, poor thing, so he supposed she wasn't worth loving anyway. With Buffy it was so different. She overflowed with her own vibrant energy. He would hate to see her go.
And yet, he still knew that he would see her again, and on Earth. He did not know how, or when, or why, but he knew his soul was earthbound, and that he would die again. It filled him with fear. He remembered the pain of the living in the flesh, and he wanted none of it.
Still, he realized that if he were not meant to live again, he would not feel this thing with Buffy, this sensation that completed him. And he would not trade that for anything.
He turned around and she was there. She looked taller, and brighter, and she beamed at him. "Alright," she said, "I'm ready." And then she fell into his arms. The glow filled them. It carried them up, and away.
He felt everything changing, turning warm, turning bright. Their souls existed as glowing beams of contentment and love, wrapped up in each other, sailing across the sky. It was beyond existence, beyond awareness, beyond life. It was more than he had imagined, and he forgot everything had not always been perfect and complete. They had no concept of worry or time or even words. It was meant to continue like that, forever.
Then Willow called her back.
Buffy felt a tug inside her. She fell away from Will's embrace and tumbled, head first, spiraling downward. She grew darker, colder, before his eyes. He dove after her, calling her name.
Slowly, her glowing mote-self began to regain form. The happy ball of energy was becoming a girl again, fragile and mortal. Her eyes dulled; her body was beginning to live. She felt herself growing aged and imperfect, heavy and unclean. Her hair was a matted mess, her eyes wild and afraid. William took form beside her and she looked to him for guidance.
"What's happening to me?" she asked, when words returned to her.
"Don't think about it, Buffy," he said. "Just fight it. Stay with me."
Her descent slowed. She looked deep into his eyes and moved to touch him. He caught her. She smiled and began to blur into a beautiful ball of light again. Just as he was about to pull her back into himself, he felt a familiar power close in around him, yanking him back. He looked up.
"Will, where are you going?"
He saw Buffy falling away. William struggled to free himself, and he screamed at God to stop this, to save her, but He was silent.
The Power merely took hold of William and pulled him back up, towards Heaven. It was not their time yet, He was saying. Buffy's soul was quickly falling out of sight. He heard her wailing, and he reached out, but it was too late; she was alive.
***
Buffy awoke in her coffin. Everything was hard and painful. She had only the vaguest idea of where she had been, but she knew she wasn't supposed to be where she was, so she screamed. She clawed at her own grave.
There was panic and flashes of light. Nothing was familiar and everything was deadly. She ran and ran. It was all wild. She thought she was in Hell. She had died again. She was still falling.
And something was missing, something she could not quite remember, like warm sunlight.
Hours passed. The world came into focus again. It was cold and harsh. It seemed her friends, worried that she was in an untold Hell dimension, had condemned her to life. She was grimly determined never to let them know their own cruelty.
She retreated to an ally. The night had been so dark, and it had stolen everything she could remember about where she had been. Daylight now but her memories were dim before the fall. All she knew was that she had been in Heaven, and next to the light of paradise, everything on Earth was torture.
The only thing that was not more hellish than she remembered, bizarrely enough, was Spike. He approached, half-demon, half-man, and he should have been as horrid as the rest of it, but there was something about him that was strangely reassuring. She had a feeling of nostalgia.
He palely tried to comfort her. "I haven't been to a hell-dimension just of late," he said, "but I know a thing or two about torment."
Beneath the bleach blond hair and cold dead eyes there was something that made her trust him. "I was happy," she said.
He looked startled and helpless, and he didn't know what to say. She continued, describing the purity and the joy of where she had been, fighting back tears. "I don't understand theology and dimensions... or any of it, really," she said. "But I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not."
He was the only one that she told. She told him because, somehow, she was pretty sure that he already knew.
