Too Late by BuffyMeetsSpike

Chapter #1 - Three Days

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, everything is Mr. Whedon’s. Thank you to slaymesoftly for all the beta help!   “I’m off then.”   Angel looked up from his desk and frowned. There was Spike, with a small duffel over one shoulder. Probably full of black t-shirts, for something new and different, Angel thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Spike was leaving for Europe, off to seek out Buffy. Angel could have offered him use of the Wolfram and Hart private jet. But with the sting of losing the battle over the fake Cup of Perpetual Torment still on his mind, combined with the sting of the possibility, however remote, that Buffy would actually choose a relationship with Spike, he felt less than generous. Let him take the slow boat to France. Maybe Angel would get lucky and someone would accidentally dust Spike or something.   But for now, Angel just sighed and said, “Well, have a good trip. Give my best to Buffy and the rest. “ Then he turned back to his paperwork.   “Don’t get all mushy on me, Peaches,” Spike said with his characteristic smirk, as he turned and walked out.   Heading down to the garage, he deliberately picked the Viper to drive to the docks. He would leave it there – someone would pick it up. Or someone would steal it, and piss Angel off even more. Either way – Spike was out of there.   He stopped on the way to stock up on blood and some icepacks to keep it fresh until he got onto the boat and could find a fridge to stash it in. It would be about a week on the ship, so he would be rationing it. But it was either that or resort to rats, and he had to draw the line somewhere. Better to get to Rome a bit hungry than with rat breath.   He made his way onto the ship and found his cabin. He had bribed the steward to let him on early, rather than have to dash through the morning sun, smoking and raising suspicions. He dumped his bag, stowed the blood in the mini-fridge, kicked off his boots, and lay back on the small bunk. He closed his eyes and thought of her. Blonde hair rippling when she turned. Those green eyes. That smile. The doubting little bit inside him kept nagging: What if she’s moved on? What if she’s angry at me for not contacting her sooner? What if…   Ah, sod it. Even if she throws me out on my arse, it will be better than nothing. Just to see her again. To hear her voice... With these thoughts in his head, he drifted off to sleep.   *************   Rome. It had been ages. After two weeks of traveling, by boat, by night train, and by stolen car, he was here. He looked at the slip of paper he had managed to steal from Angel’s desk – the address of her apartment. It was getting late, going on 10 p.m., but he had to see her. If his heart was still beating the thumping would have been deafening as he climbed the stairs to her apartment. Taking a deep, if unneeded, breath, he knocked on the door.   The door opened to reveal Dawn standing there. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “Spike?” she said, disbelieving. “Is it you?”   “It’s me, Nibblet,” he replied. He gave her a warm smile, but he sensed something was wrong. Her eyes were red rimmed with circles under them. She looked pale and forlorn. She hadn’t looked like that since that summer after Buffy… died. He still had trouble remembering those times. Now the thrill of seeing Dawn again was tinged with an undercurrent of foreboding. Something was definitely wrong.   “How..? Where did you come from?” Dawn was nearly speechless.   “Long story, pet,” Spike responded. “But I’m back, and the second I could, I came to see you and your sister. Is..is she here?”   A tear trickled down Dawn’s cheek as she found her voice again. “Spike… Buffy died three days ago.”   Spike couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “What?” he breathed, when he finally found his voice. “How?”   Dawn stepped back a bit. “C... come in, Spike,” she said in a broken voice.   Spike entered the apartment and followed Dawn into the living room. Xander, Willow, and Giles were there, their heads whipping around in astonishment at the newcomer. The scene was oddly familiar. He remembered similar scenes from the Magic Shop during that long, awful summer without Buffy. The grief was etched on their faces as before. The faces were older, and somehow more resigned, but that same loss was written on all of them.   Xander found his voice first. “Where the hell did you spring from?” he growled. He sounded enraged, as if Spike was personally responsible for this latest tragedy.   Spike felt shellshocked, bewildered. He started to explain, “About three weeks after the battle, I popped out of that amulet in Angel’s office. I was a ghost for months – couldn’t touch anything, couldn’t leave LA. Just got my body back about three weeks ago.”   “And you couldn’t call?” Dawn barked. She launched herself at Spike, pummeling him with her fists and sobbing. “You could have saved her! She needed you and you weren’t there for her, you bastard!” She kept yelling incoherent things and pounding on his chest until Willow got up, turned her around and put her arms around the sobbing girl.   Spike stared around with wide, confused eyes. “Would somebody please tell me what the bloody hell happened?” He clenched his fists in an effort to keep control.   Giles stood up, polishing his glasses while he spoke quietly. “Buffy committed suicide three days ago.” Spike stared in disbelief as Giles continued, “Dawn came home from school for the weekend and found her in the tub with her wrists slashed.”   Spike staggered to the nearest chair and fell into it, shaking his head slowly. “But… but why?” he asked, his voice cracking.   Willow disentangled herself from Dawn and wordlessly walked over to a desk, where she picked up a letter. Silently, she handed it so Spike, who began to read, trying to absorb what had been written.   To my friends:   I can’t bear it anymore. I can’t stand living this way anymore. The loneliness never stops, it never gets any less. I know you all told me to get over Spike. I know you have all moved on, but I can’t. I’ve tried to pretend I’m ok, but I can’t anymore. I love him. I loved him for longer than I could admit to anyone, including myself. Every night I see him burning, hear his last words. He died not believing that I loved him. I waited too long. Now it’s too late – he’s gone, and I’m alone. I can’t love anymore. I can’t fight anymore. I just want to stop. I want to go where he is. I’m sorry.   Buffy   Spike kept shaking his head over and over. “I had no idea,” he whispered.   Xander found his voice again. “Congratulations. You managed to kill your third slayer. How does it feel, Spike?” he snapped. His voice was bitter and broken.   Spike broke down completely then. The letter fluttered to the floor as he put his hands over his face and wept. He pulled at his hair and sobbed, not caring who was in the room, or what they thought.   I wanted to surprise her. I should have called, written, something. His mind kept looping through these thoughts until he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He looked up through his tears. Dawn knelt down next to him and put her arms around him. He hugged her back and they wept together for long minutes.   Eventually, they ran out of tears. Dawn got up to go to the bathroom. Spike looked around at Willow’s stricken grief, Xander’s anger, and Giles’ exhausted, aged eyes. “What will you do now?” he asked Giles.   Willow spoke up, “We’re not going to bring her back, if that’s what you’re asking.” He had quietly wondered about that. “She clearly does not want to be here,” Willow added bitterly.   Giles sighed, “We’ve got the Slayers to train. Dawn will be under my guardianship. I guess we’ll just… go on. “   Spike had nothing to say. His mind kept repeating over and over Buffy… dead? Killed herself? Buffy..? He could not understand. She had really loved him and mourned him. He had missed her by days. Days. If that wanker Angel had let him use the jet he would have been here, holding her two weeks ago. He picked the note up from the floor and ran his eyes over and over the words, as if some hidden meaning would appear explaining all this.   Dawn reentered the room. “Spike,” she said quietly. He turned miserable eyes toward her. “I’d like you to go. It’s just… too much right now.”   Spike nodded, understanding. He got up and slowly walked toward the door. His usual swagger was gone – he practically stumbled over his own feet as he numbly made his way to the door. He paused at the door and turned around. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry….” His eyes were pleading as he looked at Dawn, but she just buried her head in Xander’s shoulder while he patted her back awkwardly.   Spike made his way down the stairs slowly, paying no attention to where he was going. As he was about to step out into the street, he heard a sound behind him. He turned to see Giles coming down the stairs. “What is it, Rupert?” Spike asked wearily.   “I feel like you deserve more of an explanation,” said Giles. Giles held the door open for Spike to exit the building. They walked in silence for a block or two until they came upon a bench in a small square. The night was cool and dark, with no moon. Spike sat down heavily and stared into the night.   Giles sat down next to him and, staring at his shoes, began to speak. “After Sunnydale, we were all in shock I guess. We went to Angel’s hotel in LA, to get all the injured tended to and rest for a few days. Xander was…” Giles paused, not sure how much Spike knew. “Anya was killed by the Bringers.” Spike looked up sharply.   “She was quite a girl.” He resumed staring into the night. “Harris must have been a mess.”   Giles nodded and continued, “He was. We all were. So many girls killed, wounded. Buffy didn’t speak to nearly anyone for two or three days. Even Angel couldn’t get more than single syllables from her. When I brought up the idea of going to Europe, she went along with it. I should have seen, even then, that she was hurting. We had a memorial service for the ones we lost. She insisted your name be on the list as well. “   Spike closed his eyes. He never had a proper funeral, the first time he died. Buffy had given him that.   He almost didn’t hear Giles as he went on, “We were all so busy when we got back. Rounding up the new slayers, finding somewhere to house them, training them. Buffy was going through the motions again, like she did after she was brought back.” Spike noticed how they still, two years and more later, could not say that she died. It probably meant something, but he didn’t know what.   “I tried talking to her. We all did. She finally admitted one day to us that she still missed you, and thought about you every day. Dawn almost understood, I think. Willow was sympathetic, but didn’t realize how deeply Buffy felt. Xander, as usual, ran his mouth off about how he didn’t understand how she could mourn for someone who’d already been dead for a hundred years.” Spike winced slightly. Harris never did know when to shut his mouth.   Giles took a deep breath, “I think, after that, she just stopped talking about it. She put on her ‘I’m fine’ mask and went to work. Slaying, teaching slayers, and then going home. Xander went off on some trips to find new slayers. Willow was caught up with Kennedy and working on honing her magic skills with the Coven in Devonshire. Dawn went off to boarding school. And Buffy just… existed. She interacted just enough to keep us all off her back, it seems in retrospect. But I guess she wasn’t fine after all,” Giles concluded lamely.   The two men sat in silence for a while. Finally Spike spoke up, “I didn’t think she would really care Rupert.” Giles looked at the vampire, who was still speaking out to the night. “I wanted to see her the second I popped out of that cursed amulet. But Angel said she was fine, she had moved on. And I was so worried about being rejected that I let myself believe it for a long time.” He was clearly struggling for control as he spoke. “I couldn’t contact her when I was a ghost, and God knows the great poof wouldn’t call her on my behalf. But I should have done something.”   “You came as soon as you could,” Giles interrupted.   “Too little, too late,” sighed Spike. He dropped his head into his hands for a minute. Then he stood up.   “Where are you going?“ asked Giles. Spike looked down, noticing that he still had Buffy’s final note crumpled in his hand. He opened it and read it through again. Then he folded it and stuck it in his pocket.   “I’m going back to LA. There’s nothing for me here.”   Giles nodded. He rose as well. “I should get back to the others. I’m sorry, Spike. I know how you felt about her. I never wanted to accept it, but deep down, I knew you loved her. And I’m sorry this had to happen.“ Giles stood for a moment, looking at Spike, wondering what else he could say. Then Spike made it easy for him by turning and walking off into the night. **************   Angel hung up the phone and stretched. The endless calls from demons of every stripe looking for legal advice were exhausting. He flipped through his calendar, looking for his next appointment. He noted the date. Spike had been gone for three and a half weeks now. He didn’t really expect to hear anything from the blond menace. Still, he thought that at least he would have heard something through the grapevine if Spike and Buffy had been reunited. Maybe Spike chickened out, he thought hopefully. Angel knew that there was no chance that Buffy would ever come back into his life, or unlife. But the thought of her with Spike just made him cringe. She could do better than his rebellious grandchilde any day.   He looked up as a noise erupted in the hallway. Over Harmony’s protests of “He said he didn’t want to be disturbed!” the door banged open, and in walked Spike.   Angel nearly gasped. Spike looked as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. His normally pale skin seemed devoid of even the slightest color. His eyes were red, his hair disheveled, and his face grim. He secretly was pleased: Buffy had rejected Spike! Spike seemed to be taking it as poorly as ever.   “Harmony, it’s ok,” Angel said. Harmony shrugged, flipped her blond hair over her shoulder and left, closing the door. Turning to Spike he said, “So, the Slayer threw your sorry ass out already? Has she already found someone else?”   “She’s dead, you pillock.”   The words came out of Spike’s lips in a clenched, desperate growl. Angel stopped dead in his tracks and stared. “Dead? She’s dead? How? Who killed her?”   “We did,” Spike’s voice was a mixture of anguish and fury. “You and me, we killed her.”   Angel shook his head in confusion and disbelief as Spike fished a much folded piece of paper out of his pocket and tossed it on the desk. He unfolded it and started reading, unable to fathom what the words meant.   Spike watched as Angel’s eyes widened at Buffy’s last words. “She slashed her wrists, Angel!” Angel looked up to see Spike, fists clenched, jaw tense, and eyes bright with pain. “I let you convince me that I should stay out of her life. I didn’t find a way to tell her I was here. She thought I had left her.” His voice was rising to a shout, “I promised never to leave her! I wasn’t going to be like you, and her father, and Captain Cardboard and the rest. I was never going to leave her.” He angrily kicked at a chair and sent it flying across the room.   Angel was stunned. Buffy had been in love with Spike. She had said that Spike was in her heart, but Angel never suspected how deeply she felt. He read the note again – had he ever really known the girl? He could not reconcile the Buffy he knew with the Buffy who had written this note.   Spike continued to pace and rage, “You couldn’t tell her I was here, could you?” Angel watched warily as Spike stormed around the room. “You couldn’t let go of your jealousy for five minutes just to see what she wanted for a change? No, you always knew what was best for her. See how well that turned out!”   Angel finally found his voice, “Spike… Will… I had no idea. I thought she was alright. I didn’t think….”   “You never do, Angel.” Spike’s voice had dropped again. He stood, staring at the floor. It was like he had deflated. He looked so lost, so vulnerable. He looked up at Angel again. Angel could barely stand the agony in the younger vampire’s eyes.   “Spike, I’m… I’m so sorry,” he stammered. Angel didn’t know what to say. Tears started to well up in his eyes as it sunk in. Buffy was gone. He was at least partly responsible.   Spike turned toward the windows. The necro-tempered glass covered an expansive view of the city. But the city was empty to him. He had mentally prepared to be rejected by her. To lose her completely was an unfathomably cruel fate. He wanted out.   “Goodbye, Angel,” he said softly. Then Spike sprung at the windows with all his vampire strength. Angel doveinto the shadow behind his desk as the window shattered and Spike went sailing out. Spike stretched his arms wide and closed his eyes. As he fell he could feel the burning, just like in the Hellmouth. Then with a last cry, he scattered into dust on the wind.   TBC

Chapter #2 - Broken glass

Thanks to the reviewers for the great feedback on this, my first fic. This chapter is bereft of beta, so feedback is most appreciated. Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, sadly. All is Joss's. ************* Angel’s office door slammed open as Gunn and Wesley came running in. “Angel!” called Gunn.   “I’m here,” Angel replied. He edged back to the wall to stay out of the sunlight and stood up.   “What happened?” asked Wesley. “Harmony said Spike was here. Were you two fighting?”   Angel shook his head. “He jumped.”   “What?” chorused Gunn and Wesley. Both of them had become familiar enough with Spike over the last few months to know that this was completely out of character for him. Wesley in particular could not conceive of William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, voluntarily leaping to his death. “I thought he had gone to Europe to see that girl, what’s her name?” Gunn continued.   “Buffy,” said Angel. “She committed suicide.”   Wesley couldn’t believe his ears. He hadn’t known the Slayer long, but he would never in a million years have pegged her as the suicidal type. She had faced countless battles, private and demonic. Suicide was unthinkable.   Angel passed Buffy’s note to Wesley. “Spike brought this back from Rome.”   Wesley read it, comprehension dawning. “I see.” He quietly passed the letter to Gunn. “Angel, I’m sorry. I know you had a history with her.”   Angel edged around to the door. “I… I need to be alone for a while.” He stalked off down the corridor toward the elevators, nearly plowing over employees in his path.   Gunn finished reading and turned to Wesley. “Man. Poor Spike. I had no idea he had it so bad for this girl.”   “I need to call Giles,” said Wesley. “There has to be more to this.”   Wesley went off to make the call. Gunn reread the letter, sighed, and then went about arranging to have the office cleaned and the glass repaired. What a mess, all around, he thought.   **********   Wesley hung up the phone. He had had a long talk with his fellow former Watcher and was stunned. The stupid senselessness of it all. Three days. They had missed each other by three days. Wesley always quietly thought that Angel had been more than a little pigheaded to not at least tell Buffy about the amulet, its mysterious return, and who had returned with it. Angel and Buffy’s relationship had ended years ago, yet he was still so jealous and possessive of her. Wesley always thought it was stubborn and a bit ridiculous of Angel to keep carrying the torch for a relationship that was clearly over. But now, when the consequences were so dire… Wesley didn’t know what to think. Senseless.   Wesley collected a bottle of scotch from the cabinet in his office and took the elevator up to Angel’s apartment. He knocked on the door. “Who is it?” Angel’s voice sounded tired.   “It’s Wesley. May I come in?”   After a pause, the door opened. Angel had clearly already started drinking. Wesley held up the scotch. “Need some more? And an ear?” Angel nodded. “Come in, Wes.”   Angel led the way to the living room. He grabbed another glass from the bar and handed it to Wesley. Wesley poured them both a good measure of scotch and sat down. They drank in silence for a while.   “I screwed up, Wes.”   Wesley looked up at the vampire, who was staring into his drink as he spoke. “I couldn’t bear the thought of him and her together. I know that I had no future with Buffy. But the thought of her and Spike? That annoying pain in the ass? I thought I was doing what was best for her. Again.” He downed the rest of his drink and reached for the bottle again.   “You had no way of knowing how she felt about him, Angel”   “I didn’t bother to find out, did I?” He looked up and continued bitterly, “I never could accept that my plans weren’t her plans. I hurt her more by trying to do right by her than I ever did as Angelus.”   “Spike could have contacted her sooner. You can’t blame this all on yourself.”   “I did everything I could to convince him to give her up. I could have helped him get over there faster. I could have called her for him. But I didn’t.”   Angel took another drink and continued, “What’s funny is that I feel just as bad about Spike’s death. Perhaps more so.”   “Why is that?” Wesley had almost never heard Angel say a kind word about the other souled vampire.   Angel struggled to put his thoughts into words. “He was right, you know.” More scotch was downed and replenished. “When we were fighting over that cup, he said that I made him a monster. He was right.”   “Angel, he was a vampire. Drusilla sired him, not you.”   “Spike was always different,” Angel interrupted. “He never quite lost all his humanity, no matter how often I tried to beat it out of him. Before he was turned he was a devoted son and a poet, if you can believe that.” Wesley tried to reconcile the image of the peroxide blond swaggering around in his leather duster with the idea of what he imagined a Victorian era poet must have been like. He took another drink himself, unable to reconcile those two images.   “He cared for Drusilla for a hundred years, Wes. I destroyed her, but he did everything he could to protect her, care for her. She had conversations with dolls and invisible fairies, but he was patient with her. She was faithless and cruel to him, but he stayed. He called himself Love’s Bitch, and he was.” Angel looked up with miserable eyes. “There was some streak of humanity in him that nothing could squash. Nothing except me, that is.”   Wesley had never seen Angel quite this morose before. “How could you have known this would happen, Angel? You can’t control others and what they do.”   “Doesn’t stop me from trying, does it?” Angel yelled suddenly, throwing his empty glass against the wall with a crash. He buried his face in his hands. “I don’t even know what I’m doing any more, Wes. Am I still on the right side? What the hell good is this soul if I still can’t keep from hurting people?”   Wesley was at a loss for words. Angel was remorseful and drunk, and this could not lead anywhere good. “What are you going to do now?” he asked quietly.   “I have no idea,” Angel replied. He got up to fetch another glass.   TBC

Chapter #3 - The Space Between

The chapter title comes from a Dave Matthews song. No beta for this chapter either – if anyone gets inspired, let me know…   Disclaimer: Mr. Whedon lets me play with Spike. All hail, Mr. Whedon. ***** Spike became aware again.   He remembered burning, then nothingness. Now he was aware. Everything around him was white. He seemed to be in a room, on a hard floor. There was no real temperature to anything. No sound he could identify. Nothing he could smell. Slowly he opened his eyes and sat up. He looked down at himself, dressed in his usual black on black uniform. He seemed uninjured. “Where the hell am I?” he muttered aloud.   “Not quite hell, yet,” replied a voice.   Spike stood and whirled around. A man in a gray suit stood behind him. The man was almost perfectly nondescript. Gray hair, gray suit, gray shirt, gray tie, gray shoes. And I thought I was monochromatic, thought Spike. “Who are you?” the vampire demanded.   “I am a sort of… conductor, you might say,” he answered. “I make sure souls get where they belong.”   “Is this heaven then?” Spike asked. Not the place he expected to go at all.   “More like the traditional concept of purgatory,” the Conductor replied. “You are here because we need your help.”   “My help?” Spike was truly confused. He had never given much thought to what would happen when he truly died for good, but generally expected guys with pitchforks. Now faced with this white room and this gray man, he didn’t know what to think.   “We have a soul here, destined for heaven, who won’t go.”   “And how can I help with that?” asked Spike.   “She’s been waiting for you. “   Spike stared. “Buffy?” he breathed. “She’s here?”   “She got here a short while ago. She refuses to go to heaven. She keeps saying she won’t go unless you’re there.”   “Take me to her,” Spike said, barely controlling his voice. Buffy would refuse heaven? For him? Was this some sort of trick?   The Conductor led Spike through a door into another white room. A small figure was sitting in a corner, curled up, blonde head resting on her knees. She started speaking before she lifted her head, “I told you I’m not interested… ”   “Buffy?” Spike hesitated.   The figure looked up. It was her. She was dressed in a white sweater and jeans – the same as when she fell from that tower. Her face slowly lit up with astonishment. “Spike?”   She got to her feet and made her way over to him, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up, hesitatingly, to touch his face, as if she thought he was a mirage. “You’re here,” she gasped. Then she flung her arms around him and clung to him like a drowning person. “It’s you. It’s really you. You’re here.”   Spike gripped her tight, marveling that they both felt as solid as they ever did. “Shh, love. I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair. She looked up then and pulled his head down into a deep kiss that went on and on, as if they had been parted for decades.   “Ahem.” The Conductor, all but forgotten, cleared his throat. The couple broke their kiss reluctantly, but remained in each other’s arms. They turned toward the man in gray.   “Mr. Pratt,” Spike sighed inwardly at hearing his given name. “Would you please explain to Ms. Summers that her place is in heaven?”   Buffy raised her eyebrows. Pratt? She had never known his last name. “Spike, where were you? How did you get here? I got here and they said you hadn’t left the earthly realm yet. What happened?”   Spike sighed, and ran his hand through her long hair. “After the hellmouth, I got sucked into that amulet somehow. I popped up in Angel’s office a few weeks later as a ghost. I kept walking through everything. I couldn’t leave Wolfram and Hart – I tried, and I kept being pulled back. When I finally got my body back – and no, I don’t know how that happened either – I left as soon as I could to come to Rome to find you.” His voice dropped as he added, “I missed you by three days, pet. I know, I should have called or something. But I was so afraid of being rejected, that I thought I would just show up. If I had known…”   “Shhh.” Buffy put her finger to his lips. “Doesn’t matter now. Just listen to me. I love you. I meant every word I said to you on the hellmouth. I will always love you.”   “Oh God, pet, I love you too. Always.” He kissed her again, tenderly. “When I read your note, found out what had happened, I just couldn’t stay in that world anymore. I... ”   “As I was saying,” interrupted the Conductor in an exasperated tone. “Ms Summers is destined for heaven. Her reluctance to allow herself to fulfill that destiny is most unusual.”   Buffy turned to look at the Conductor. “Where is Spike going?” she demanded.   “Mr. Pratt is unfortunately destined for hell, based on his past deeds as a vampire.”   “I pretty much expected that, pet,” Spike sighed, looking Buffy in the eyes once more. “But knowing you meant it will make it bearable… ”   “Out of the question!” yelled Buffy. She released Spike to go poke the Conductor in the chest. “He saved the world! He got his soul voluntarily! He fought for the side of good even without a soul! He gets no consideration for that?”   The Conductor looked flustered. “I do not make the rules, Ms Summers. Although his altruistic behavior of late has been noticed and will reduce the severity of his punishment somewhat, the fact remains that he has 100 years of murder and mayhem to answer for.”   “I am not going to heaven without him. End of discussion.”   “Buffy!” Spike couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This is heaven! Peace, rest, warmth, your mum – don’t give that up for me. I’m not worth it by a long shot.”   She took his face in her hands once more and kissed him. “You listen to me, William Pratt. I experienced life without you. It was hell. It was worse than when I came back from the dead, because I didn’t have you to pull me out of it. I was prepared to wait here for a hundred years until you got here. I am NOT leaving without you. If I am in heaven, knowing you are in hell, I will be in for an eternity of misery and I refuse to do it.” She turned to the Conductor. “I am not going without Spike,” she said with steely resolve in her voice.   The Conductor frowned. “I am going to have to consult with my superiors about this.” With that, he vanished, leaving the two of them alone.   “Buffy, you can’t do this. I won’t let you do this,” Spike pleaded. “You died because of me. Don’t give up eternity for me. I can’t bear it.”   Buffy kissed him again in response, long, slow and passionate. Then she said the last thing he expected at that time and place. “Claim me.”   Spike stepped back. “What?” he roared. “Are you mad?”   “No.” Buffy calmly stepped back up to him. “I want to tie your soul to mine. I want to be where you are. Wherever you go, I will go. Enough of this lying to myself and everyone else about what I want and what I feel. There is no lying here. I. Want. You.”   Spike saw, as if for the first time, the complete and utter determination in her eyes. She was serious. Absolutely and completely serious. Clearly, the girl must be out of her head. “You do realize that we are technically dead and all, right?”   “Don’t care,” said Buffy, stubbornly. “They set up all these stupid rules about who can and can’t go where around here, but I’m not playing. Even if nothing happens, even if we both disappear, let me give you this. Just let me show you what you mean to me.”   He found his reservations melting under her gaze. He never could say no to this girl. Still, he was hesitant. “Can we do that? Here? Is it allowed?”   “Only one way to find out,” she said. She tilted his head, and bit down on his neck as hard as she could. There was no reason why blood should well up from that bite. They were dead – this was the afterlife. But yet, she tasted the coppery tang of his blood and whispered, “Mine.”   “Yours,” Spike moaned, shifting into his gameface. He delicately sunk his fangs into her neck, similarly marveling at how this could be possible. He took two slow pulls of her rich blood and whispered, “Mine.”   “Yours. Always yours,” she replied.   Then everything changed. Spike felt like a wire had been plugged into his head and was feeding him all her thoughts, her feelings, her memories. Why did he deny that I loved him in the end? Lonely… so lonely. His arms around me. The abandoned house. God why did I treat him that way. He said I was the One. Oh GOD I miss him. Let me die please let me find him please. He staggered a bit under the onslaught. He never dreamed that anyone could feel that way about him.   Buffy had a similar reaction as Spike’s consciousness flooded into hers. Loved her so much. Never wanted to hurt the girl. Never wanted to leave. Will she want me back? Can’t bear the thought of rejection. Lost her again. Never see that hair, that smile again. Can’t bear it can’t bear it. She blinked hard. Had he really been so worried that she wouldn’t want him? After all they had been through?   They held each other and stared, blue eyes locked with green. They won’t separate us again, Spike, Buffy thought, and Spike heard every word as if she had spoken it aloud.   No, not ever, Spike agreed silently.   “Most irregular.”   The Conductor was back, his frown permanently attached now. “I am sorry, but there is just no precedent for a vampire entering heaven. It just isn’t done. I’m afraid you must go your separate… ” The Conductor stopped, then stared at them for a moment. “What have you done?”   Buffy spoke up, “We claimed each other.”   The Conductor’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “You bound your soul, for all eternity, to a VAMPIRE?? You? The Slayer? Warrior of the People? Do you know what you’ve done?”   “I’m pretty sure that what I have done is prevent you from separating us,” said Buffy, wrapping her arm tightly around Spike’s waist.   The Conductor sighed, “Then I’m afraid we’ve no choice. Ms. Summers, it seems that Mr. Pratt will be joining you… ”   Spike looked up. “You’re really going to let us stay together?”   The Conductor looked at them sternly. “Oh you’ll be together. In hell.”   Buffy and Spike’s eyes widened as the world fell away.   TBC

Chapter #4 - Dances with Demons

Disclaimer: Not my characters, although I would not object to a Spike for my birthday… Author’s Note: Thanks for all the encouraging reviews! This chapter is slightly less angsty than some of the previous ones. But knowing me, things will get worse for our heroes later... ********     When she came to her senses, Buffy realized that she and Spike were lying on a very hard, uncomfortable surface. The sensation had been terrifying – like being sucked through a black hole. She opened her eyes and looked around, sitting up. They were in an enormous cave. The walls seemed to glow with some orange light from some unseen source. Spike stirred, shook his head and sat up as well. His eyes lit on Buffy for a moment. Then he jumped to his feet and began pacing up and down, clearly furious.   “Stupid, stupid girl!” yelled Spike, enraged. “What have you done? Do you realize what you’ve done?”   Buffy stood up. “It was no more stupid than going and getting your soul, and nearly driving yourself insane on my account!” she retorted.   Spike grabbed her arms. “The insanity went away. This is forever.” He was so furious he shook her, and then released her when the pain she was feeling came across their psychic link.   “Spike,” Buffy began. Then she stopped, put her hand on his chest, and just reached out with her mind, willing him to see what was there, and to let her see what he was thinking. Words always seemed to get in the way with them.   Spike closed his eyes as Buffy’s thoughts flowed in. Spike, I love you. You don’t deserve to be here. I know – vampire. Did a lot of terrible things. Did a few terrible things to me even. But you have showed me a deeper, more unconditional love than I ever knew existed. I can’t let that go. I can’t.   Buffy closed her eyes as well, and heard Spike’s thoughts returning. I feel like this is all my fault Buffy. All of it. I shouldn’t have let you kill yourself. I should never have gotten involved with you at all. All I ever did was drag you down.   No. Buffy opened her eyes and stroked Spike’s face until his gaze met hers. No. Don’t you ever think that. You gave me more than anyone ever has. You are my champion. I chose to be a coward and kill myself. You didn’t do that to me. I did it to me. Just like you jumped out that window. We were both cowards, but I still won’t be without you.   Spike kissed her then, putting every ounce of love he had ever felt for her into the kiss. Oh dear heart. I really hope you don’t regret this.   Suddenly, they heard a noise behind them. Turning, they saw several large demons approaching out of one of the side tunnels. They automatically squared off against them, he on the left, she on the right. As the demons charged, they went into their old familiar dance. Spike lashed out with a solid kick, sending the first demon flying into the second. Buffy’s flurry of roundhouse kicks and solid punches caused a third to stagger. They didn’t stop to count the number of attackers, just kept moving. Spike snapped one demon’s neck. Buffy kicked another one into unconsciousness. As the battle went on and on, Buffy realized that she was having more fun than she had in years.   Is hell supposed to be this much fun? Buffy thought as she dispatched another demon.   Spike grinned and landed an uppercut. We always were the masters of this dance, eh love?   The demons kept coming, but they found they weren’t particularly tired. It definitely hurt when the demons landed blows. One particularly spiky one had gashed Buffy’s arm pretty good, and it burned like crazy. Spike had a bleeding wound at his temple that stained his white hair. But all in all, they were enjoying a good old fashioned brawl.   Seems like our punishment is to fight demons for all eternity, thought Buffy.   So, not much different than being alive then, Spike returned, mentally chuckling. The telepathy was proving to be quite a boon. Not only did it help with the fight, as they could sense what the other perceived in terms of where foes were, but it allowed for conversation without wasting breath.   Hey, at least no Apocalypse, thought Buffy. This could be considered a bit of an improvement.   Shut your mouth…er…mind before you give anyone ideas, pet.   Yes sir, Mr. Pratt.   Spike growled as he continued fighting. I should rip that little gray poof’s head off for letting that out of the bag.   Why? Buffy smirked. There are worse names out there.   Not if you’re British. My last name is a bloody insult!   Buffy laughed out loud and kicked another demon. Well then I guess you’ll just have to take my name. We’re claimed right? It’s like a marriage.   My father would roll in his grave if I took my wife’s name. Spike’s inner Victorian had some long standing hang-ups, and men taking their wives’ names was one of them. It just seemed wrong somehow.   So, I get to be Mrs. Pratt? She caught Spike’s eyes for a moment. Then a demon got in a good shot which rocked Spike’s head back, and they resumed fighting.   ****   The fight continued for what felt like an eternity. More demons of all kinds came into the cave, surrounding them. One demon carried a battleaxe. Spike managed to disarm him, and tossed the axe to Buffy. Happy birthday, Slayer. He carried on fighting. The fallen demons seemed to vanish into mist, making room for the newcomers. They both were bruised and battered now, bleeding from numerous wounds. But they kept fighting, and fighting.   Then, at some point, there were fewer new demons. They kept up the battle, slaying one after the other. Finally, Spike twisted one more neck, and dropped the body. They looked around, panting, as the last demon dissolved into nothing. “Did they run out?” asked Spike.   Buffy brushed her hair back out of her eyes. “I would have thought hell would have an infinite supply,” she replied. She sat down, suddenly exhausted.   Spike threw himself on the ground next to her. “Maybe they want us fresh for round two,” he surmised. He felt around in his pockets and sighed, “No cigarettes. I guess we really are in hell.”   Buffy chuckled, and looked at her wounds. Most were already healing – it was like her Slayer powers were better than ever. Spike too found he was healing fast, even for a vampire. Buffy asked, “Why are we healing so fast? And why are we so… real? Shouldn’t we be ghosts or something?”   Spike shrugged. “Guess since this is a realm where souls go, souls feel real here. That’s the only explanation I can think of. And maybe they heal us fast so they can beat on us again sooner,” he replied.   Buffy moved closer so she was leaning on Spike’s shoulder. Blissfully, he wrapped his arms around her and just held her. Never get tired of this, she thought, snuggling into his chest.   Spike breathed in the scent of her hair. Buffy, why did you do it? he thought.   Buffy paused for a while, gathering her thoughts. It was just like after Willow brought me back. Everyone was looking at me to lead, to be OK. Maybe I would have been, eventually. But no one wanted to hear about me and you. Dawn missed you, but I think she was still a bit sore with you. Willow just wanted to put it all behind her. She found a Coven to help her with her magic, she had Kennedy to comfort her, and she just wanted a new start. Xander was so broken up about Anya. He pulled out his patented ‘my grief is more valid than your grief’ attitude every time I tried to bring up how I felt. Anya was his former fiancé and had been human. You were a vampire. Even though you saved the world and all that, your death was good riddance in his eyes.   Spike growled a bit. Wanker. Should have eaten him years ago.   Probably would have disagreed with you, Buffy thought. I tried to tell them. After all the grief I got from keeping that secret about Heaven from them, I thought this time I wouldn’t keep secrets. But they didn’t want to know. It was all ‘You need to get over him, Buffy’ and ‘He’s gone, move on’ and so on. So I tried. I threw myself into slaying, found a school for Dawn, trained new Slayers. But I dreamed about you every night. And if I stopped moving for a moment, the despair came back. Every day it was just a little harder to get out of bed. Finally, I just decided to quit. I thought about just letting a vampire get his one good day. But in the end, I didn’t want any other vampire’s fangs in me. So I… did what I did.   Spike quietly stroked her hair. The despair she had felt was choking him. He could feel that loneliness like a cloud that she had walked through. It was all there, in her mind, and he could hardly bear it. I wish I had known. I’ll be kicking myself for all eternity.   How could you have known? Buffy thought. My closest friends didn’t understand how depressed I was.   I know, Spike responded. I probably shocked the hell out of Angel, he added as an afterthought.   Buffy turned a bit to look at him and asked, What did you do?   Spike shrugged. I was a bit out of my head. Must’ve read your letter 150 times on the way back to LA. I was… numb. When I got back to that wanker’s office, I wanted to rip his head off. But I guess I realized that wouldn’t bring you back. He said he was sorry, but what was I going to do hanging around there? I was tired of fighting for… whatever the hell Angel is fighting for now. I don’t even know any more. I looked out the window, and it all just looked so empty. So I just ran through the window. I dunno – maybe I dusted Angel in the process. Don’t much care, I guess.   Their silent conversation was interrupted by noises from the tunnel once again. “Time for round two, love,” said Spike as he scrambled to his feet and helped Buffy to hers. They squared off and began the dance again.   TBC

Chapter #5 - Visitors

Disclaimer: Not my vampires. Mr. Whedon’s vampires.   Thanks so much to all the reviewers who took the time to give me feedback! This chapter dedicated to my local commuter rail, without whose interminable delays I would never have had time to get it written. Another chapter bereft of beta help, but hopefully I have not made any major errors.   *********   Angel was back at work the next day, hung over and subdued. He went through the day’s business with a minimum of conversation. All the employees who encountered Angel in the halls shied away as his bad mood followed him like a fog. Angel normally had brooding down to a science, but this was the worst anyone had ever seen.   Near the end of the day, Harmony came over the intercom. “Eve is here to see you boss,” she chirped. Harmony’s voice grated on his nerves on a good day – today it was like nails on a chalkboard. Angel was also less than thrilled to have to deal with the liaison to the Senior Partners right now. But it seemed to be part of the whole deal. “Show her in, Harmony,” he muttered.   Eve walked in, looking assured and perky as ever. “Good afternoon, Angel,” she said, crossing over to take a seat in front of his desk. “How are things today?”   “Fine,” Angel replied bluntly. “What can I do for you?”   Eve crossed her legs and folded her hands. “The Senior Partners just wanted to convey how pleased they were with recent events, and wanted to say to keep up the good work.”   Angel stopped toying with his pen and looked up at her sharply. “What are you referring to?”   “Well, you solved that problem of having two souled vampires mucking up the works, for one thing,” she replied. “Did you dust him yourself?”   “He jumped out the window on his own,” muttered Angel. “And don’t pretend you didn’t know that. The Senior Partners seem to know everything around here.”   “Well, there was some doubt as to whether you helped or… encouraged him to jump,” said Eve, straightening her skirt. “But the end result is the same – balance is restored.”   “Pardon me if I am not jumping up and down,” said Angel.   “What, I thought you found him to be an annoyance?” Eve questioned.   “He had his uses,” Angel replied, in a tone that did not seem eager to continue this line of conversation.   Eve shrugged and went on, “The Partners are also glad to see that the original Slayer is no longer around. It will be much easier on our demonic clients without Ms. Summers organizing all her new Slayers into a coherent army.”   Angel stood up so suddenly that his chair flew backward. He was around the desk in a flash of vampire speed and had Eve by the throat before she could blink. “If I find out that the Senior Partners had anything to do with Buffy’s death… ”   Eve choked out, “She did it herself. We had nothing to do with it.” Angel released her. Eve rubbed her throat and continued, “The Partners thought your policy of not communicating with her was deliberate.”   “Sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn’t part of any grand master plan,” said Angel, turning to look out the window. “This was not what I wanted.”   “Nevertheless, the Senior Partners think that this outcome eliminates certain potential difficulties,” Eve continued.   “Do you have anything else to say?” Angel growled.   Eve stood up and straightened her skirt. “That’s all for now. Have a good evening, Angel.” Eve turned and strode out the door.   Angel stared out as the lights started coming on in the city. He turned and grabbed his coat, stalking out the door toward the elevator.   *******   An hour later, Angel was on his third – or was it fourth? – whiskey at a nondescript bar. He kept turning Eve’s words around and around in his head. When the Senior Partners were happy about something, this was usually not a good sign. How did I dig myself into this hole? he wondered. I’m working for evil, no matter how you slice it. I did it for Connor, but at what cost?   “Buy an old friend a drink?” said a voice at his elbow. He turned to see a small man in a ridiculously dapper suit and hat.   “Whistler??” Angel’s voice conveyed his utter astonishment. “Where did you spring from? I haven’t seen you in ages.” Angel signaled the bartender while the demon sat down next to him. Whistler placed his order and turned to Angel.   “You’re looking a little worse for wear at present my friend.” Whistler shook his head slightly and sipped at his beer. “Had a hard time of it lately?”   “You could say that,” Angel responded.   “I heard about Spike and the Slayer,” said Whistler. “I’m sorry for your loss.”   “I failed them both, Whistler,” said Angel in a low voice.   “I’m afraid you don’t know the half of it,” replied the demon. Angel looked up at him searchingly. “The Powers that Be are not happy with this turn of events.”   “What can I do about it?” Angel asked, frustrated. “She’s gone. I’m not dragging her out of Heaven again by some mystical means. She was messed up for ages after that. That’s how she ended up with Spike in the first place.”   “She’s not in heaven.”   Angel nearly dropped his drink in surprise. “What do you mean?” he sputtered. “They wouldn’t send her to hell just for committing suicide, would they? She saved the world 10 times over, for God’s sake.”   “She chose hell, rather than be parted from Spike again,” Whistler said. Angel’s eyes widened in horror and shock. “They tried to get him to convince her to go to Heaven as she was destined. Apparently, she wasn’t having it. Not sure about all the details, but last I heard they were together, in hell.”   Angel stared into his drink, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why would she do that? What would possess her?”   “Apparently, she loves him,” Whistler responded, taking another drink.   “Why are you telling me all this Whistler?” Angel asked in an annoyed tone. “Is this just rubbing salt in the wound, or is there a purpose for all this?”   “You seem to have strayed from your former mission lately,” Whistler commented. “Maybe it’s time you got back on track.”   “What do you mean?”   “I think you need to set things right,” said Whistler, as he finished his beer and stood up. “I think you can. But you have to ask yourself what you are willing to give.” He fixed Angel with a searching stare, then turned to go. “I’ll be in touch,” he added over his shoulder, then disappeared out the door.   TBC

Chapter #6 - Sympathy for the Devil

Disclaimer: Not my characters. But I sure wish they were.   Thanks so much for all the encouraging reviews!   *******   Anyone who has ever had to get something to happen through a bureaucracy would not be surprised to know that hell was run in a similar fashion. There were demons and subdemons, various entities that were responsible for keeping track of who was being punished, for what, and for how long, and those responsible for keeping Satan up to speed on what was happening in his realm. There were many demonic dimensions, but his was Hell with a capital H, and he had a reputation to maintain. So when one of his chief minions came to his office looking concerned, he paid attention.   “What can I do for you?” Satan was nothing if not charming.   “Um, sir, it’s about two of our new arrivals,” said the minion, referring to a clipboard. “A William Pratt and a Buffy Summers.”   “Ah yes, the Slayer and her Vampire. Getting her to agree to come here was a major coup. What’s the problem?”   “Well,” the minion began, “They are particularly good at fighting off the demons.”   “This is to be expected. She’s the Slayer, and the Vampire has been fighting with her for years now.”   “Yes, but they seem to be… enjoying it, sir,” said the minion in a quavering tone. He was understandably nervous about telling Satan that his punishment was not particularly effective.   “Enjoying it?” Satan asked, sitting up straighter. “They have been sentenced to fight demons for all eternity. All the Slayer ever wanted was a rest, and the vampire had to suffer the wrath of the demon community for years since he went over to the forces of good. How could they be enjoying it?”   The minion gulped, “I don’t understand it myself, Sir. But they seem to heal unusually quickly, and they are working together so well that they have defeated all the demons I sent after them so far. In fact, the demons are becoming reluctant to attack them anymore. I had to threaten the last bunch with no end of torture to get them to go in there.”   “Hmmm,” pondered Satan. “It seems we will have to devise some other punishment. Why haven’t you separated them?”   “We tried, sir,” sighed the minion. “We can’t force them apart.”   “Can’t?” snapped Satan. “Why the hell not?”   “They claimed each other after death, sir.”   “WHAT?” roared Satan. “How was that allowed to happen?”   The minion cowered and said, “It happened in Purgatory. The Conductor left them to go consult with his superiors, and came back to find them all claimed and inseparable.”   “Two pure souls, bound to each other? No force in my realm can break that.” Satan scratched his chin and thought for a while. “I think we need to use this claim against them. They should be able to feel everything the other feels, right? Then let’s redesign their punishment with that in mind, shall we?”   “Very good, Sir,” replied the minion. “Would you like me to arrange that?”   “No,” said Satan, leaning back in his chair. “Let me take this one.”   *******   Buffy and Spike fought on and on, and time seemed to have no meaning. Minor hurts were sustained, mentally commented on, and then seemed to fade relatively quickly. They grew tired, but not exhausted, and they found they could keep on destroying demon after demon. Finally, as before, one last demon fell, this time to Buffy’s axe. Then, seeing no more foes, they flopped down on the ground again.   “I think I have an idea of why we keep healing so fast,” said Spike as he pulled Buffy near to him. He massaged her shoulders tenderly while he spoke.   “Mmm,” moaned Buffy. “I’ll listen to any theory at all – just keep doing that.”   Spike smiled and continued, “I think our powers have merged.”   Buffy thought about that for a minute. “That sort of makes sense. We each heal, what, twice? Three times as fast as a normal person? Put that together and we heal almost before they hit us.”   “Awfully convenient, that,” Spike agreed. His hands had slowly drifted from her shoulders to caressing the outside of her arms. He started kissing her neck, nibbling his way down to her shoulders. Buffy sighed. She turned in his arms to kiss his mouth, to entwine her tongue with his. His hand slid down to cup her breast and she moaned. Forgot how good your hands feel, lover.   Wonder what we have time for before the next round? Spike responded, as his hand drifted under her sweater. Buffy’s hand worked its way under his shirt as well, running over his beautiful abs and his cool skin.   “Are we quite finished?” said a voice.   Instantly the couple was on the alert, leaping to their feet and looking around. At first they saw no one, but then a swirl of mist appeared before them. The swirl widened until, with a small explosion, a man with reddish skin in a black suit appeared before them.   “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said.   “Let me guess,” Spike interrupted. “You’re a man of wealth and taste?”   The hell? thought Buffy.   Rolling Stones, Sympathy for the Devil. Have you NO musical taste at all, woman? Spike rolled his eyes.   Satan sighed, “Something tells me I am just not reaching you two. I am Satan, master of this realm. You may have heard of me?”   “Well, yeah,” said Buffy. “Not gonna lie and say pleased to meet you.” I do know the song, Mr. Know-it-all. Just couldn’t place it instantly. Buffy stuck her tongue out at Spike.   “If we are done making references to a certain overplayed rock song,” continued Satan, “Let me explain why I am here. You are causing me a certain amount of trouble.”   “How so?” asked Spike.   “My demons are becoming reluctant to attack you.”   “Oh darn,” said Buffy. “Forgive me for irritating the demons. You know, you could just send us both to, I dunno, HEAVEN together and we’ll be out of your hair in no time.”   “I don’t get to set the rules there,” Satan spat out. “But here, I get to alter things to suit myself. And I think you two are having just a little too much fun down here.”   Spike and Buffy instinctively moved closer together. They both sensed that they were taking things just a little too far. “So what now?” asked Spike, warily.   “Now we dance to my tune,” said Satan. The sensation of being sucked into a void struck them again and they knew nothing. TBC

Chapter #7 - Questions Needing Answers

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Mr. Whedon. Thanks for sharing. Still not beta’d, but trying to be extra careful with the details! ***********   Angel sat in a meeting the next day, ostensibly listening to Gunn discuss progress on key cases. But his mind kept turning Whistler’s words over and over, looking for new meanings. He said I need to make things right. How can I make this right? Bring her back? Yeah, that went well last time. But she was in heaven last time. Can that spell work twice? Had bad consequences as I recall. And Spike? What do I do about him? If I bring her back without him we’re back where we started. How do I make this right?   “… so should we do that Angel?” asked Gunn, looking down the table at Angel.   Angel jumped in his seat, coming out of his reverie. “I’m sorry, I spaced for a bit there. What did you ask?”   “Should we go ahead and close that demon’s case?”   “Yes, I think we’ve done all we can for him, especially if he insists on continually eating his rival’s offspring,” Angel replied. He hoped he was answering intelligently – he had only half paid attention for the majority of the meeting.   Gunn squinted at Angel a bit. “You OK, boss?”   “Yeah,” said Angel. “Just a bit distracted.”   “It’s all good,” reassured Gunn. Everyone gathered up their things and left. Wesley was one of the last to get up and paused when Angel said, “Do you have a minute, Wes?”   Wesley remained behind as the others filed out. Angel hadn’t been himself for a few weeks now. The whole situation with Buffy and Spike seemed to be a new, permanent weight on Angel’s mind. “What can I do for you, Angel?” he asked.   “What do you know about raising the dead?”   Wesley sat down and looked sternly at Angel. “I’m not sure what you are contemplating, but may I remind you that this sort of thing has been tried before? With mixed results?”   Angel understood perfectly well what Wes was getting at. Buffy eventually got back to normal, but had a hell of a time getting there. Darla – what a mess that was. To be brought back to be terminally ill, then add resiring and impossible pregnancies to the mix, and Angel could understand Wesley’s objections. “I had two visits recently that made me wonder if I am doing the right thing,” he finally responded.   “Explain?”   “Eve stopped by my office to tell me the Senior Partners were pleased to have Buffy and Spike out of the way,” Angel began.   “Angel, you can’t go mucking about with raising the dead just to assuage your own guilty conscience,” said Wesley. “Just because these events played into the plans of the Senior Partners… “   Angel interrupted, “It’s not just that, Wes.” Angel got up and paced as he spoke. “I also had a visit from Whistler.”   “Who?” asked Wesley.   “He’s a demon,” Angel explained. “He was the one who told me about Buffy in the first place. He… he told me that they were both trapped in hell.”   “And you believed him? Do you trust this guy?” Wesley was skeptical.   “All I know is that he has never lied to me before,” said Angel. “He said that Buffy deliberately chose hell rather than be separated from Spike. I don’t know what to think.”   “What do you want from me, Angel?” asked Wesley in a wary tone.   “Is there some way to find out where someone went in the afterlife?”   Wesley scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps one of the mediums could do something.”   “Here’s what I want,” said Angel. “I need you to find out if it is possible to know where they went. If they are in hell, I need to know how to bring them back.”   “But again, why?” asked Wesley. “If it was their fate to die at this point in time, I don’t know that we should be meddling with that.”   “Because I have a feeling that things will go badly if they are stuck in hell rather than being here fighting evil,” Angel stated. “That’s another thing I would like you to check out. That Cup of Perpetual Torment was a fake. But are there other, real prophesies where Buffy and Spike would fit in? If the Senior Partners are happy, there has to be something we don’t know.”   Wesley had a hard time arguing with that logic. But to go against the Senior Partners was asking for boatloads of trouble. “I don’t know, Angel,” he responded hesitantly.   “Look, could you just do some research?” Angel asked. “Just… just see what you can find out. I’m not making any definite plans, but I need to know if what Whistler says is true.”   Wesley nodded, resigned. “I’ll look into it, Angel.” He got up and left, leaving Angel alone in the room, thinking.   *******   Wesley rubbed his eyes. He had been wading through tome after tome of prophesies of all types. He squinted blearily at his desk clock. Midnight. Good lord. Working with Angel was sometimes like being perpetually at University, pulling all nighters and living on tea. Speaking of which. Wesley got up and wandered down the hall to the break room. The tea here wasn’t perfect, but he could get a reasonable approximation of Earl Grey for a pick-me-up. As he waited for the tea to brew, he thought about the research he had been attempting. Nothing obvious had popped out at him. He had just about exhausted all the possible prophesies relating to immortals, slayers, vampires, hell dimensions – he was just about out of ideas of where to search. Retrieving his tea he returned to his office, mulling over the problem.   He sat down and started looking through the list of possible sources again. A title he had missed caught his eye. Translated from some demonic tongue, it read The Book of the Fallen. He muttered the title to the spelled book on his desk and watched as the words appeared magically on the page. It was a collection of stories and prophesies related to Satan and the other fallen angels. The tale of Satan’s battle with the Archangel Michael and the banishment of Satan and his followers to hell was familiar, although it was interesting to see it told from the point of view of the fallen angels themselves. As Wesley continued reading, he came to a section that collected various prophesies relating to Satan rising again and ruling the Earth. Most of them seemed rather general, or incomprehensibly obscure.   Then he came to one which made him pause:   A being of light and a being of shadow, bound as one, will pass through Satan’s realm. Satan will rejoice at their presence, and declare a great victory. He will entomb them forever, lest they thwart his return.   Wesley stared at the words. Could this be what he was looking for? Were Buffy and Spike really destined to thwart Satan himself? And if so, did that mean that the world in a whole lot of trouble? He sat back in his chair for a minute, then reached for the phone to dial Angel’s number.   TBC

Chapter #8 - Contact

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to someone else, alas.   Fair warning – things are getting dark again, and our heroes are by no means out of the woods yet. Hopefully there are no ill effects from my continued lack of beta.   *************   Spike woke up again, finding himself upright, bound hand and foot to a wall by some unknown means. Across from him, Buffy was waking up in a similar position. You alright, love? he asked, his concern rippling across their link.   Buffy groaned inwardly, I’m fine. Although the next time I decide to mouth off to the Devil himself, can you please tell me to shut up?   Duly noted. Spike looked around. It was a small, cavelike space, lit as before by an unseen source of orange light. Spike had the feeling they were not going to be enjoying themselves nearly as much.   What do you think we’re in for? Buffy asked, silently. Since they didn’t know who was listening, it seemed safer to communicate telepathically. Besides, Buffy found that Spike’s mental presence was quite comforting.   No idea, pet. Spike was nervous, but he tried to stay calm for her sake.   “Comfortable?” said a voice from nowhere in particular. Buffy and Spike looked around, but saw no one but each other.   “Been better,” muttered Spike, testing his bonds. They seemed to be entirely beyond even his enhanced strength.   “Let’s get started, shall we?” continued the voice. “As you may have heard, you have some sins to atone for, Mr. Pratt. Ms. Summers, have you ever really understood what Mr. Pratt’s life as William the Bloody was like? I think it is time you got to know the real Spike.”   Buffy strained against her bonds. “Leave Spike alone!” she snarled in frustration.   “I think not,” stated the voice. “Enjoy the show.”   Spike felt as if someone had turned on a high powered arc lamp in his brain. All of his deeds as a vampire started flowing into his head, one by one. It was just like after he had gotten his soul back, but ten times worse. Every victim’s scream, every moment of pain they suffered was being slowly, relentlessly played back into his mind.   Buffy felt Spike’s mind twist and writhe under the onslaught. Then she felt the victims as well. Oh my God, she was twelve. Twelve! How could you do that? Railroad spikes in the neck? In the groin? The entire family? Slaughtered half a village? How? God, Spike, how?   Spike barely heard Buffy’s thoughts. His brain was burning. He felt them. Oh God, he felt them. Stop. Please, stop, I’m sorry. No, no, no… He wanted to go mad, like before. He wanted to dust, to pass out, anything to make it stop. But the cacophony of voices pleading, accusing, screaming, shrieking, and wailing went on, and on.   Tears rolled down Buffy’s cheeks. How could she reconcile this monster with the man she loved? The man she had died for? She had known about the deeds of William the Bloody – lord knows there were enough stories about him in the Watcher’s diaries. But to experience what his victims had felt – their fear, their pain. It was agony. Layered on top was Spike’s own crushing remorse, his mental anguish at having to feel all these things again. The mental link had become a feedback loop, as each one’s pain was amplified and reflected back to the other. Her horror at his past deeds became another sharp splinter of torment.   After a time, Buffy could feel the madness starting to creep into Spike’s mind. That was even worse somehow. He was so clever, quick, and intelligent. It was what had made him such a worthy opponent, and such a powerful ally. But she could feel him slipping into darkness. The demon inside him howled in frustration as his soul burned. Shoving her own horror aside, she tried to call to him through their link. Spike! Stay with me! But he could do nothing but struggle inwardly against the relentless attack by those he had wronged.   How long can we last? Buffy wondered. The implications of eternal came crashing into her consciousness. Neither of them could die. This could literally go on forever. Oh God, what have we done? Buffy prayed. But in that darkness, she was not sure anyone heard.   *****   It was late, and few employees were still around in the dark halls of Wolfram and Hart. Wesley and Angel sat in a conference room, waiting for a Medium. Although they had a number of them on staff, Wesley had decided to go with an outside source. Until they knew more about what they were facing, they thought it best to keep the number of people who knew what they were contemplating to a minimum. They hadn’t even discussed it with Gunn, Fred, or Lorne yet. Wesley quietly hoped it would all end up being nothing. The medium would find that Buffy was in heaven where she should be, and they could mourn her and move on as before. Somehow, though, he felt things would not be so simple. They never were when Angel was involved, it seemed.   Angel, for his part, felt at a loss. What did this prophesy mean? What if they were in hell? Could he really bring them back? Should he? What would that take? What would happen if he failed? Angel sighed and shifted in his chair. These questions had no answers yet. First things first: find out where they really were. He looked at the clock. Where the hell is this woman? he wondered impatiently.   The phone on the conference table rang. “Angel,” answered the vampire. “Good. Send her up.” He turned to Wesley. “Security is bringing her up now.”   “Good. Maybe she can get some answers for us,” Wesley responded.   A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. The door opened and in walked the most stereotypical California hippie that Angel had seen since the ‘60’s. She had gray straight hair down to the center of her back, held back by a braided headband. Her clothes consisted of a loose sweater and a flowing patterned skirt, and she actually wore Birkenstocks. She had dark brown eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and held out her hand with an easy smile. “I’m Melody,” she said, shaking Angel’s hand. “From the skin temperature, I’m guessing you’re Angel.”   Angel smiled slightly, in spite of his mood. “Pleased to meet you. This is Wesley.” She turned and shook hands with the Englishman as well.   “Shall we get started?” she asked. They sat down around a small round side table. Melody opened a large flowered bag and pulled out some candles. She spent some time arranging the table, lighting the candles, and dimming the room lights. “Join hands,” she said, holding out her hands to the two men. “Tell me the names of those you would like to contact.”   “Their names are Buffy and Spike,” said Wesley.   Melody raised her eyebrows. “I need full names. Do you know how many dead folks there are out in the ether? Full names, and if you had a picture of them, that would help immensely.”   Angel released his hands and went to his bookshelf. From within an old book of poems he extracted a picture of Buffy. She had been 16, and they had been in love when this picture was taken. His heart broke just a bit, seeing her like that again, knowing what had followed. He handed the picture over to Melody. “Her name was Buffy Anne Summers. She was the Slayer.”   “Beautiful girl,” murmured the medium. “And the other?”   Angel and Wesley looked at each other. Wesley spoke, “He was a vampire. He went by the nickname Spike, or by William the Bloody. But I have no idea what his real name was, do you Angel?”   Angel shook his head. “I know he was called William, but he would never tell us his last name. I once got bored and tortured him for half a day trying to get him to tell us, but he never would. I think he was afraid I would go after his family or something. I don’t have any pictures of him either.”   Melody sighed, “Well, we’ll work on the girl then. It’s always so much easier the more information I have. Now concentrate.” They joined hands again.   Long minutes went by as they all focused on Buffy’s name, and her face in their memories. After a while, the medium spoke in a low voice saying, “We call on the spirit of Buffy Anne Summers. Come to us. Hear us. Those you have left have questions for you. Come to us!” Her voice had risen and her grip tightened. Suddenly, the table shook slightly, and a thin mist rose from the candle.     *****   The torment went on, and on. Spike’s anguish had become a never ending mental scream echoing in both their brains. Buffy longed with all her being to either break the bonds and comfort him or break the link somehow – anything to get a moment of rest from this.   Then out of nowhere, another presence entered her mind. Buffy Anne Summers… come to us. Buffy had no idea what this voice was, but it seemed feminine and kind somehow. She strained to focus on it. With all her strength she called to the voice: We’re here! We’re in hell! Please, oh God, please help us! They’re hurting us, hurting him and it won’t stop. Please, make it stop! It hurts!   *****   The mist swirled around the table then seemed to enter the medium’s nostrils. Her eyes snapped open wide. Angel started and nearly dropped the others’ hands. Her eyes, which had been brown as coffee, were green. Buffy’s eyes. She was looking out through Buffy’s eyes. Then she started crying out, in a familiar voice, wracked with pain, “Please, oh God please help us! It hurts!” The medium began screaming over and over, until finally she flew back, toppling the chair and breaking the circle. The mist vanished, and when Wesley helped her up he saw her eyes were brown again.   Melody was shaking violently. Angel got her a glass of water as Wesley helped her back to her chair. Her teeth clattered against the glass as she got herself gradually under control. “I saw her,” she finally rasped out. “She… she is in hell, as you were told. They are there together. It seems as if the torture is mental, and being visited on both of them. It was horrible.” Melody shuddered again.   “And you are absolutely sure it was her?” Wesley asked. He had to be sure. He couldn’t even contemplate this unless he was sure.   Melody fixed him with a glare. “It was her. No doubt about it.”   *****   Buffy clung to that comforting presence for as long as she could, but almost as soon as she felt it, the presence was gone. She nearly wept in frustration. But then she realized that something had changed. She felt much more in control of her mind all of a sudden, as if that interruption had reset something. Buffy concentrated, and fought back, forcing her thoughts into Spike’s mind. She had an idea.   Spike! Buffy called out through the red haze of his mind. Think of the slayers you killed. Xin Rong, Nikki Wood – think about them.   Spike dimly heard her thoughts, but couldn’t understand why she was asking about the slayers, of all people. But unbidden, their last battles started looping in his mind. The crack of Nikki’s neck. The taste of the Chinese slayer’s blood mixing with the smoke from the battle raging outside. The despair in the black almond eyes as he drained Xin Rong. Robin Wood’s misery, still fresh so many years later. Oh God, forgive me.   No! Buffy concentrated her thoughts like a laser. Think about what you felt about them. How did you view them?   Blearily, Spike tried to comply. Magnificent. They were magnificent. The ultimate opponents. Beautiful. Graceful. The swirl of painful thoughts seemed to lessen somewhat. The way you Slayers move – it was better poetry than I ever could have written. It was an honor to fight them. It would have been an honor to lose to them, even. To fight a slayer on even terms is a gift. An absolute gift.   Buffy kept up her efforts to distract Spike and break the endless torture. Listen to me. I know what you are now. With absolute certainty, I know what you are capable of. And I still love you, and I still need you. Fight it, Spike. Just like you fought your demon for these past few years. Hold on to me. I am right here. I’m not excusing what you did. But I am not casting you away either. Hold on.   Spike twisted in his bonds, and ground his teeth. But he heard her, and he held on.   *****   As Melody continued to recover from her experience, Wesley glanced at Angel. He had picked up Buffy’s picture and was regarding it solemnly. Those screams, Angel thought. I’ve never heard her scream like that. She could fight 15 demons and still be wise cracking a mile a minute. But Buffy pleading? Begging for rescue? Christ, what have I done?   Wesley turned back to Melody, who was picking up her things. “Let me escort you to the door,” he said, helping her gather up the candles.   “Thanks, but I’ll find my own way out,” she responded. She was still clearly shaken, and obviously wanted to get as far away from there as she could. “I hope that helped.”   “Yes, it gave us the answer we needed. Thank you.” Angel responded mechanically. Wesley ushered her out the door then alerted security to see her safely on her way. He turned to Angel. “Next move?”   Angel was still regarding Buffy’s picture. Then he looked up with pain filled eyes. “We need to bring them back.”   TBC

Chapter #9 - Death or Glory

Disclaimer: All is Mr. Whedon’s.   Warning: Gets a little gruesome in places. Still no beta, so please keep the reviews coming!     Buffy and Spike clung to each other’s thoughts, like drowning men grasping a life ring. She fed him images of things he had done right. She reminded him of how he survived Glory’s torture without giving Dawn away. She played over and over how proud she had been of him during that final battle on the hellmouth. The tenderness with which he had held her bleeding hands after she returned from the grave. The strength he had given her before that final battle. These are all your acts, Spike. No one made you do these things. You did them on your own. You are capable of good, and were before you had a soul. Even William the Bloody was not pure evil. That last comment seemed to give Spike a lift. With the added strength borrowed from Buffy’s mind, he was able to step aside of the river of victims somewhat. Without making excuses, he could separate out the victims that occurred because of blind, demonic hunger beyond his control. He could see the times when he made it quick, because it was in his power to do so. That still left an awfully long list of inexcusable crimes, but somehow, he could bear it now. He had done these things, but he had also stopped doing these things, of his own will. As he kept up this train of thought, the dark howling void of madness moved further away. Buffy’s love and encouraging thoughts were like a cool hand on a fevered forehead.   Then, as suddenly as it started, the torture stopped. The searchlight in Spike’s head clicked off, and he slumped in his bonds, exhausted. Buffy would have collapsed as well, had she not been bound to the wall. They both panted as if they had just run a race. Spike? You with me?   I’m here, Slayer. Spike lifted his head with an effort and opened his eyes. Buffy met his gaze. Both of them were grateful for the reprieve, however short it might end up being.   What happened? asked Spike. How did you do whatever you did? How did you get through to me?   I don’t know, Buffy responded, shaking her head in confusion. Another voice popped into my head. Spike gave her a puzzled look. It sounded like a woman. She was calling my name, asking me to come.   Your mum? Spike wondered.   Don’t think so. Different voice. Kind, but not familiar. It’s like she was trying to contact me. I tried to ask her for help. Don’t know if she heard.   Well, whoever it was, we’ll have to thank her later. Seems like that contact helped you get back some control. You’re amazing, love. Spike gazed at her again, and gave her one of those patented adoring looks of his. That look that had welcomed her back from the dead, gazing up at her on her staircase.   I never get tired of that look, babe, Buffy sighed. They both closed their eyes and rested then.     *****   Satan was sitting in his office, staring at a wall. The wall had the property of being able to show him anything in his realm instantly, just by muttering a short incantation. Right now, he was watching Buffy and Spike, resting with small smiles on their faces. Their mental link seemed to be as strong as ever. For a while he had been pleased with their reaction to the catalogue of William the Bloody’s past deeds. He had been able to keep that up for quite a while. But then something had interrupted things. Probably a medium or something. Nosy busybodies who couldn’t leave the dead in peace. Always had to go checking on them. Once Buffy’s mind had had the slightest break, she had been able to reassert herself and help Spike. Satan had finally given up and stopped the punishment so he could ponder his next trick.   Satan drummed his hand on his desk. Then he smiled. Might as well do that while I’m thinking of something new.   *******   Buffy was jerked out of her doze by an unpleasantly familiar voice. “Long time no see, Slayer.” Buffy’s eyes widened. It was Glory. Wild hair, red lips, horrendous taste in shoes – every detail exactly as Buffy remembered.   “I destroyed you,” Buffy said. “You can’t be here. It’s not possible.”   “Maybe, maybe not,” Glory responded, shrugging carelessly. “But I think I’ll have some fun with you all the same. Hello, Spike!” she added, turning to blow a kiss to the chained vampire. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”   “Can’t say as I’ve noticed, particularly,” growled Spike. Considering what he had suffered at the hands of Glory the first time, he was certain that he did not want to find out first hand whether this was the real thing or a bad Hell copy.   “Now, Spike,” Glory crooned. “You were much more polite last time.” Glory turned back and ran her hand down Buffy’s face. “I think you need to know how Spike felt when I asked him to help me with my Key.” Glory turned back to Spike as Buffy shivered.   Moving like a cobra, Glory’s finger shot out, her sharpened nail piercing Spike’s abdomen. Spike screamed as Glory twisted her fingers in the wound, ripping and tearing. Glory pulled her hand out, observing the effect on her manicured nails. Then she rapidly began slamming punch after punch into Spike’s face and body.   “Leave him alone, you bitch!” screamed Buffy. Spike’s pain filled his mind and hers. She could feel his ribs crack, his eyes swelling, his lips splitting. She winced as she felt his nose break, remembering all the times she had punched him in the face, usually after he had been so good to her. My God, what was I thinking? Desperately she called out to his mind, Spike!   The ferocity and unexpectedness of the attack had almost completely overwhelmed both of their minds. Through the pain, Buffy thought, He put up with this? For me and Dawn? How?  She was horrified but she could do nothing. She was helpless as she watched this deadly Goddess torturing the man she loved relentlessly, without the benefit of death’s blessed release. Spike… please hear me. Fight her. Spike tried to comply, but the agony made coherent thought next to impossible.   This Glory never tired, never got bored with causing pain. She would move to one area of Spike’s body while the accelerated healing went to work on the area she had just finished. Then she could move back and start over again. Buffy screamed as she watched one of those vicious nails pierce Spike’s left eye. His face disappeared under a mask of blood as he moaned in agony. She forced herself into his mind, willing him to let her bear some of the pain. She cried out as the feeling of sharp nails in flesh registered in her head as well. She clenched her jaw and balled her fists, sharing her mate's pain as best she could.   Her attempts gradually seemed to be working. With Buffy’s mental support, Spike struggled to regain control. After a massive mental battle, he realized that a thought was nagging in the back of his head, but he couldn’t grasp it. Something about perception. If this fucking BITCH would just lay off my innards for five minutes I could probably remember something.   Buffy heard that thought through her pain. Damned inconsiderate of these hell types not to give us time to think between tortures. Then she realized what she had just been thinking and stopped for a moment, groping in Spike’s mind. Spike! You had some memory about controlling your perception. The reaper, or something?   YES! Spike’s mind latched on to that saving thought. When the Reaper had attacked him at Wolfram and Hart, he had been able to exert his will when he wanted to badly enough. And oh, he so wanted to exert his will on this bitch right about now. He summoned all his strength and will to fight back.   Glory paused for a moment, sensing some change in her victim. Spike raised his head painfully, looked at her with his one good eye, and spat in her face. She stopped cold, absolutely stunned and staring wide-eyed at her victim. The stunned look on her face struck Spike as so funny that he started to laugh, wild and maniacal. Buffy stared at him for a moment. She can’t hurt us, pet, he laughed, she’s the world’s biggest sock puppet. He kept laughing, and after a while Buffy joined in. She practically doubled over in her bonds as the ludicrous phrase ‘world’s biggest sock puppet’ bounced around in her brain. As they laughed, Spike’s face began to knit itself back together. His back straightened, and his blood seemed to flow back into his wounds. Glory looked indignant. “How dare you laugh when I am torturing you?”   They laughed even harder. Buffy had tears in her eyes. Do you want to explain to Her Bimboness? she asked Spike. I don’t think I can stop long enough.   “I’m afraid, you’ll just have to piss off, Glory,” Spike said between chuckles. “See, we know you don’t exist anymore. We killed you. Oh, you had us going for a while. But we can control our perceptions if we try hard enough and you just aren’t here. If I could, I’d gladly thrash you for a while just to prove the point. But honestly, I’m a little tied up right now.” Spike broke into fresh peals of laughter.   Good one! laughed Buffy. They were both in hysterics. She thought that perhaps they both had gone a bit crazy. Ok, she was 95% certain that they had lost it. But she didn’t care. The creature that looked like Glory, whatever it was, was completely confused. It looked from one to the other, not sure of what to do.   “Tell your master that he’ll have to do better than ‘This is Spike’s Life’ if he wants to get at us,” Spike said defiantly. “Why don’t you toddle off now, there’s a good demon.” The creature looked at Spike indignantly, then vanished as suddenly as it arrived.   Oooh, boy, thought Buffy, breath hitching as she tried to get her laughter under control. Now we’re really going to be in for it.   Sod it, returned Spike, similarly fighting the giggles. Been wanting to tell that bitch off since she fucking got the woman I love killed.   I got better, giggled Buffy. Spike threw his head back and started laughing all over again.     In his office, Satan grew more and more furious as he watched. Clearly, something must be done about those two. Playtime is over, my friends. My turn.       TBC

Chapter #10 - Plans

Disclaimer: Someone else’s characters.   Thanks for all the reviews! ***************************     Angel and Wesley finally decided they needed to pull the others into their confidence. They met at Wesley’s apartment, in the interest of security. You never knew quite who was listening at the office, given the number of supernatural staff members. Fred and Lorne were the last to arrive. Gunn moved over to make room for them on Wesley’s couch.   “Just like old times,” said Gunn. Regarding his suit and tie he ruefully added, “Except for the corporate duds, that is.”   Fred smiled a little at that, and then asked, “What’s this about, Angel? Why couldn’t we meet at the office?”   Angel ran his hand through his hair as he sat down. Taking a deep breath, he told them about the visit from Whistler, the prophesy, and the experience with the medium. They all listened in rapt silence as he described how Buffy’s spirit had manifested and begged for help. When he finished, he looked up. “We need to bring them back.”   “Whoa there, cupcake,” said Lorne. “This is going to take some serious mojo. How are we going to pull this off without alerting the Senior Partners?”   “I don’t know,” said Angel. “That’s why I called you here. I need your help. We need a plan.”   Fred spoke up, “How did they bring Darla back? It was some big spell, wasn’t it?”   “I was looking into that,” said Wesley. “It appears that they used several of their most powerful staff witches and warlocks to pull her soul from the afterlife. It required concentrated effort over a couple of months.”   “We don’t have that sort of time,” said Angel, getting up to pace once more. “They are being tortured. We have no idea how time moves there. The longer they are in that place, the more damaged they are going to be. What good will it be to bring them back and have them be irrevocably insane? I remember coming back from a hell dimension – it was… “ Angel shuddered. He couldn’t put into words how it felt, to be so out of control, to have to fight that feral madness.   “So, we’re not going to be able to use the staff witches if we want to keep this quiet,” Gunn reasoned. “And it’s going to take a lot of power. We’ve got two people to bring back at the same time.”   “The White Room.” Everyone stopped, and looked at Wesley. “The conduit. We need to find a way to access the conduit. There is enough power there to do whatever spell is needed. We just need to figure out a way to use that power for our purposes.”   Gunn whistled. “The conduit? That’s not gonna be easy. It’s not like you can just walk up there and plug in an extension cord.”   “Perhaps some sort of portal,” Fred surmised. Portals to other dimensions were something Fred was far too familiar with. “If we could figure out a way to latch on to where they were exactly, we could produce some sort of focused interdimensional disturbance that we could pull them through.”   “That could work,” agreed Wesley. “We’re going to need to do some research on how that can be done.”   “Hang on a minute, folks,” Lorne interrupted. “We’re going to be drawing a big target on all our backs doing this. We’re using company resources to do something the Senior Partners are going to have some serious issues with. Are we prepared to take the consequences?”   No one spoke for a while. Then Angel said quietly, “If anyone wants to stay out of this, I understand. I’m not going to force you to put yourself at risk to fix something I broke. But lately I feel like I’ve lost my way, lost the mission. I need to make this right.”   Another long silence fell on the group as they weighed the decision. Then Wesley stood up and faced Angel. “I’ll help you. I fear the consequences of not bringing them back will be worse than whatever we will face from the Senior Partners.”   Gunn stood up as well. “I’ve got your back. You’re right – we’ve lost our way lately. We used to know we were on the right side. Some days, I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing. This feels right somehow.”   “I couldn’t leave them there,” added Fred. “I know what hell dimensions are like. If where they are is even worse than Pylea… “ She shuddered at the memory.   Lorne sighed, staring at his polished shoes for a moment. “I guess I’m in too," he said, resigned. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this. There are going to be repercussions.”   Angel looked around at all of them, grateful for their support. “Ok then. Let’s get to work.”   ****   The five of them worked on the problem every spare moment. On the surface, they were throwing themselves into the day to day workings of Wolfram and Hart with renewed zeal. Gunn was in court every other day it seemed, helping the human and human-looking clients. Fred was hard at work in the lab, although the true nature of her work would have given the Senior Partners pause. Wesley hit the books for hours at a time, until he was sure the crick in his neck was permanent.   But it was Lorne who actually came up with one of the most brilliant parts of the plan. He started to arrange an offsite team building retreat for the entire staff. It would be held at a big hotel and conference center, with lots of free food, trust building exercises, and all the other corporate rah-rah activities that Lorne could think of. Attendance would be mandatory, and it was implied that those who chose not to attend would be under additional scrutiny when it came time for the review by the Senior Partners. The building would be essentially empty, giving them free rein to perform their rescue mission. The retreat was scheduled to occur in two weeks. Angel hoped that would be enough time to plan their rescue.   The plan, as it was shaping up, involved locking on to Buffy and Spike’s souls by mystical means. Then Angel’s team would open a portal between this world and hell, pulling them out and into an energy field to recorporealize them. It was risky, and had a low likelihood of actually working. But it was all they had. Without tame witches purely magical solutions were out. Fred had reconfigured a version of the rig that they had used to capture the Reaper, with some variations that could handle two souls. Wesley was working on a sort of interdimensional locater spell in order to lock on to them. They started building Fred’s energy field generator in a little used storeroom in the subbasement, and Angel had managed to find a book that gave them the correct spell to open a portal between the worlds.   The biggest problem now was power. They needed mystical energy in large amounts. The White Room was a source of this energy, but they were at a loss as to how to access it without alerting the Senior Partners to their plot. Days went by as Fred tinkered, Wesley read, and Lorne planned appetizers. Angel was getting more and more agitated.   With five days to go, Angel was getting pretty desperate. He stalked out of the office after dark, and went back to the bar where he had seen Whistler. He sat down and ordered a whiskey as before. This time, he barely got half way through it when he heard the voice at his elbow. “Back again, I see.”   Angel turned. “Whistler, just the man I was looking for.”   The demon slid into the next barstool and ordered a beer. “How are things going with you, Angel?”   Angel looked around, and lowered his voice. “We have a plan to get them back. It might work, but we’re at a brick wall. We need power, and we don’t know how to get it.”   “Interesting,” mused Whistler, taking a drink. “Tell me about the plan.”   Whistler listened while Angel outlined the rescue. After the description was finished, Whistler took another long drink and said, “As I said before, how much are you willing to give?”   “What do you mean?” Angel asked, warily.   “I know a way for you to access that conduit. But you have to know that the consequences to you could potentially be fatal.”   Angel stared hard at Whistler. “Explain.”   “Do you still have that amulet of Spike’s?”   “Yes, but it seems to be dead. Why?” Angel was not sure he wanted to know where this was leading.   “That amulet is the key. It can harness the power of the conduit and allow you to channel it where you need it,” explained Whistler. “But you saw the effect it had on Spike. I am not sure what it would do to you under these circumstances. The power in the White Room is a different beast altogether. So I ask you again – are you willing to risk everything?”   Angel stared long and hard into his drink. That was the $20,000 question, wasn’t it? He wanted to do the right thing. But was he willing to risk his life for Buffy and Spike? At one point, he would have thrown himself into a vat of holy water for her. Hell, he had practically done exactly that for Darla. The thought of doing something like that for Spike was a new concept. Spike had been an annoying thorn in his side for years. However, Angel had to admit that Spike had changed for the better. If Angel was absolutely honest with himself, two-thirds of his problem with Spike was that he was with Buffy, and Angel couldn’t be. And was it really fair to judge Spike only by his past deeds as a vampire? Hadn’t Angel been fighting the same way to overcome his past as Angelus? But then, if Angel died, what would happen to the others? To Connor? Would Connor’s new life evaporate, leaving him lost again? “I’m… not sure what to say, Whistler,” he finally responded.   Whistler looked at Angel for a while. Then he spoke quietly, “I understand you want to protect those you love. But the truth is the ones you love will suffer anyway if those destined to thwart Satan in this world are prevented from fulfilling that destiny.”   The truth of those words finally hit home. He had made mistakes. He needed to clean up the mess he had made, or more would suffer and more would die. He made up his mind. “Tell me what to do.”   TBC

Chapter #11 - The Devil Gets His Due

Disclaimer: The vampires belong to Joss Whedon. Sigh.   Warning: This chapter gets pretty violent and gruesome. Read the warnings (specific to this chapter) and skip if you need to. Still no beta, hope all goes well anyhow.   ****************   Eventually Buffy and Spike’s laughter tapered off. Haven’t ever heard you laugh like that, Buffy realized.   Can’t say as either of us has had much call for it the last few years, Spike thought. Wonder what else they can throw at us?   I really don’t want to contemplate that, Buffy shuddered. They lapsed into mental silence for a while. I really shouldn’t have, she thought after a time.   What do you mean? Spike cocked his head, questioning.   Killing myself. Bad idea, in hindsight.   Yeah, not one of your best, Spike agreed. Pretty hard on the Nibblet.   I know, Buffy thought. Her eyes filled with tears, thinking about that. She loved her sister dearly, and hadn’t wanted to hurt her. I guess I sort of felt she didn’t need me so much, with the boarding school and all. But who am I kidding. I was being a selfish coward, plain and simple. Didn’t want to deal with the Scoobies and the loneliness and didn’t want to start again with anyone else.   Hey, Spike interrupted, You were hurting. Yeah, you probably should have stuck it out. But I really want to knock your mates’ heads together for pulling all that shit on you again. Spike shook his head in frustration.   Think Willow will try to pull me back again? Buffy wondered.   Spike shook his head. No. Pretty much the only thing she said to me was that she wasn’t trying that again.   So I’m in heaven, and they yank me out. I’m in hell, and they leave me here. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Buffy rolled her eyes.   They’re only human, pet.   They heard a slight sound again, and saw mist swirling in the center of the room. Looks like the boss is back, Spike guessed.   Shit, responded Buffy.   The mist coalesced into the form of Satan. He had dropped his polite pretense. He was the master of this realm, he was in charge, and he was pissed off. Buffy and Spike both knew, right away, that they were in seriously over their heads now.   “You will learn not to mock Me in My realm,” Satan spoke in a commanding tone. He snapped his fingers and the room changed in an instant. Spike was still bound to the wall, but Buffy found herself immobilized on a sort of stone altar. She was naked, spread out, and completely vulnerable.   “You are correct in that illusion can be twisted here.” Satan’s voice was like the hissing of a snake. “But there is nothing more real in My realm than Me.” At this, Satan began to grow. He became almost twice as tall as a normal man, his clothes disappearing to reveal red flesh and red eyes. His hands became claws, his skin scales, and horns appeared on his forehead. Buffy’s eyes widened in terror as she realized that his sex organs were vaguely human, but distorted, and clearly incompatible with a human woman in terms of size. He was erect, and his intentions were very, very clear.   Spike threw himself forward, morphing instantly into gameface. “Get away from her, you fucking bastard!” he screamed. He nearly dislocated his own shoulder trying to reach his mate. His demon was completely in control as he growled and struggled.   Buffy screamed as Satan slowly, deliberately climbed on the altar. His hands burned her skin as he ran them down her body. He dug his claws into her breasts, drawing them down her torso leaving ragged red lines. Positioning himself, he put his face close to hers, grinned, and impaled her.   “NO!” Spike screamed. BUFFY! His mind reached for hers, frantic and desperate.   There were no words. No concepts Buffy was aware of could fully describe the agony. It was as if she was being shredded from the inside out. The pain was so great she could barely draw breath to scream. If she had been a living human, the internal damage probably would have killed her in short order. As it was she was still there, but it felt as though she had been filled with molten metal. She was half aware as Satan drew out of her with agonizing slowness, then thrust into her again.   Spike was frantic. He felt her thoughts fading like a dying ember. Her thin thread of sanity snapped, and she curled in the corner of her own mind. The pain she felt was horrific, and Spike felt every tear of the flesh and every burning handprint left on her skin. Satan climaxed, and it felt like hot acid in her depths. But there was no reprieve – he kept violating her again, and again.   Spike struggled to maintain his own sanity. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he called and called her name in his mind. Her mind was like an abandoned house – it was like he was running down hallways and through rooms, but she wasn’t there. He kept probing and searching, becoming more and more frenzied. Buffy, don’t leave me. Please, someone, help her. She’s the slayer for God’s sake. How could any Power for good let this happen to her. Buffy…   He willed himself to concentrate. He reached out with his very soul, seeking any little shred of her spirit in that dark place. It was though he was stumbling in blackness. Finally, he found a single coherent picture in her mind. The mental image was of Buffy, as she had been in the psych ward of her nightmares. She was wearing a white hospital gown, curled in a ball, head hidden in her arms, rocking in a corner. Spike projected an image of himself into her madness. He wrapped her last bit of self awareness in a protective cloak of his own thoughts. Buffy, I’ve got you. We need to leave this place.   Buffy’s thoughts were like static. No words, no coherent feelings, just pain and terror and blankness. Spike forced an image of him picking her up into her mind. Come with me, love, he crooned to her, cradling her like a child. Gotta come with me. Leave this body, come with me.   Hurts… came a small, mental whimper. The pain in that thought was almost more than Spike could take, but it was a recognizable word, and he took that as some sign that he had her. He drew back into his own mind, pulling her spirit with him. Buffy had the equivalent of an out of body experience as her mind merged with Spike’s. Her body was still being violated, used, and tortured. But Spike had somehow gotten between her and the torment.   Spike’s mind still held the image of her in his arms, rocking back and forth. Shhhh, he soothed. You’re out of there now. He can’t hurt you anymore. Buffy’s thoughts were still blank, and the blankness terrified him more than her pain had. But he kept up his steady litany of gentle words, even while Satan continued to destroy the body she wore in this realm. He murmured to her, half remembered poems from his youth, memories of seeing her, falling in love with her. He found himself singing to her – anything to try to keep her from being lost forever. Her silence deafened him.   Spike hardly noticed when Satan straightened up from the altar and stepped away. Spike looked up as Satan transformed back into his smaller, more human form. ”I think that will do nicely for now,” he purred. “I don’t think the Slayer will be as chatty from now on, do you?” Spike’s heart broke at the sight of her body. She was covered in blood, from her neck to her knees. Her torso looked like she had been whipped for hours, crossed with clawmarks. His stomach turned over at the ruin of flesh between her legs.   Satan grinned. “I can see why you went and got a soul for that one,” he said in a cheerful tone. “I’ve got some business to attend to. Enjoy the conversation!” With that, he vanished in a puff of smoke.   Spike closed his eyes and concentrated on his mate, whose essence was still residing in his own mind. Buffy. Come on Slayer. Give me a sign. Are you with me?   As if from a distance he heard her repeating over and over, no more no more no more no more… He followed the thought, tried to strengthen it with his own thoughts. He started to play scenes in his mind. Remember the night we spent together, love? You asked me to hold you, just hold you. I wasn’t lying – best night of my life. Never thought we could get closer than that. Remember making love, the night before the hellmouth? I know you meant what you said while I was burning, Buffy. I know it because you said it the night before with your body. I wanted to save you, just like now. Please come to me. Let me save you again. It’s what gives me meaning, gives me purpose. You are the One. I love you.   In that blank room of her mind, Buffy felt a growing warmth, like someone was slowly wrapping her in a quilt. She gradually became aware of a presence. Gradually the presence became words, became coherent. I love you, she heard. She reached out tentatively with her mind. Who…?   It’s Spike, my love, he answered gently. You’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.   Spike? Buffy’s mind tried to fit a meaning to that word. It seemed right and comforting, but unfocused. Spike. Where..?   I pulled you into my mind. I tried to separate you from the pain. Spike kept talking, hoping to draw her further back from the edge.   Pain… remembered Buffy. There was so much pain. As quickly as she had started to respond, she lapsed into utter insensibility again.   Oh, love, thought Spike, Don't leave me. Please. His thoughts swirled around her in waves. Mostly it was just feelings – love and fear, comfort and trust. There was almost nothing concrete in Buffy’s thoughts at all, but Spike wrapped his soul around her and clung to whatever was left. TBC

Chapter #12 - Here and Gone

The usual disclaimer: All characters belong to he who is Joss Whedon.   Thanks for the encouraging reviews!   **************    Spike had no concept of how long they drifted together. Buffy was still barely coherent. Her thoughts were unfocused, and the possibility that she might be permanently insane crushed his heart. The thought of Drusilla and the century of conversations with invisible spirits came to him. The idea of Buffy reduced to that state was inconceivable. Being helpless while that bastard savaged his mate had been the worst torture he had ever endured – and he had lived with Angelus for 20 years. He had to bring her back.   He looked across the room. Her body had nearly healed of its wounds. His own head ached with the effort of keeping both of their minds together. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. It was the mental equivalent of holding someone by the wrists, dangling over a cliff. If Buffy didn’t regain some degree of control over herself soon, he was going to lose his grip on both of their minds. He could already feel himself slipping a bit – thoughts becoming hazy, momentarily forgetting things. He needed her back – right now.   He probed at her gently. Buffy? Slayer? I need you to focus, love. Can’t keep this up much longer. No response. In desperation he increased the intensity of his thoughts. Look, Summers, don’t you fucking quit on me. You’re not getting off that easy. You’re not some shrinking convent girl like Drusilla was. You’re the fucking slayer and you will get a hold of yourself, or so help me I will bloody well kick your ass!   At long last, he got a response. His words had the effect of a slap in the face to a hysterical person. Buffy slowly started to form coherent thoughts again. Spike? What’s going on? What happened? She was still muddled, but things were starting to come back into focus.   You were raped, Buffy. No sense sugarcoating here – he needed her back and fully aware. I pulled you into my mind to keep you safe. He’s gone, and you’re gonna be ok. But you’ve got to get a hold of yourself. Your body’s healed love. Can you take control again?   Buffy cringed back from that idea. No. Can’t go back there. He’ll hurt me again. Let me stay here. Her thoughts started wavering on the edge of madness again.   We’re both going to go over the edge here! Spike desperately tried to get her to understand. Please. If you need to escape later I’ll pull you back but I am so tired… The effort was getting to be too much. You know I love you, Buffy. You know I will always come for you. But you need to get control.   Something in his tone reached through her haze. Buffy made a supreme effort to focus. Buffy. I am Buffy the Vampire Slayer, she said to herself. I’ve saved the world a couple times.   That’s it love, Spike’s thoughts encouraged her, You are all that. You’re Dawn’s sister and Joyce’s daughter. You’re the woman I love. Nothing can defeat you for long. You fought Glory and the First, you can fight Satan.   A memory popped into Buffy’s consciousness. She remembered standing up, bleeding from an abdominal wound, surrounded by chaos and death, and facing down the primordial evil bearing her own face. That was who she was. Her body could be beaten, stabbed, broken, but she was the Slayer. All those Slayers, down through the generations were contained in her. She would not let go of that.   With an effort, she decoupled her mind from Spike’s and regained control of her own mind and body. Her body was sore, but mostly healed. Her mind was still reeling, but her thoughts and memories were her own. She knew who she was, where she was, and who this man was who had brought her back. Spike. You brought me back. I don’t know how, but you brought me back. I don’t know how I can ever thank you for that.   Spike hung exhausted in his bonds, but managed a small smile. You thanked me already, love. You held on. Spike closed his eyes and rested from his efforts. Buffy closed her own eyes, secure in the knowledge that whatever came next, Spike would have her back.   ****   Satan hummed to himself as he came back to his office. He had enjoyed driving the Slayer completely over the edge. As the master of hell, he could have the pick of any soul he wished to satisfy any desires he could dream up. But to completely break a Slayer, a creature of light who normally would never even come near his realm – now that was a dream come true. He couldn’t help rubbing his hands together as he muttered the incantation to view his new favorite toy.   Buffy and Spike were still there, in their bonds. He noted that her body had healed again, which would make her ripe for another go. But then he noticed that her eyes were open. They were focused, and aware, and looking at her mate. They were silent, but clearly they were communicating. Spike occasionally smiled slightly, and their eyes never left each other.   Satan roared in frustration. He had broken her. He knew he had broken her. She had been completely catatonic when he left her. How could she possibly have come back from that?   Then, Satan suddenly remembered that old prophesy. He was up on all the prophesies that involved him. Most of them were bullshit; as the Prince of Lies, he was well aware that people were forever coming up with elaborate stories to explain how they wanted things to happen. But he was also aware that some of these prophesies did actually come true. The one he was thinking of involved a creature of light and a creature of shadow. If they got out, he was never going to get anything done in the earthly realm. Right now, he had them trapped. But he was concerned. Everything he tried to break them failed. They were extremely strong. Could they actually overthrow him? In his realm? Not yet, but given enough time to figure out all they were capable of? Fear was not a sensation that Satan was particularly familiar with, but it was starting to creep into a small corner of his mind. It was clear these two needed to go.   He stroked his chin. There was one final punishment that he rarely used. It was more fun to torment souls indefinitely than to remove them from the equation. But in this case, he might make an exception. He smiled to himself. Dissolution. No escape from that, my friends. No escape.   *****   The blond couple was enjoying their rest. After an unknown period of quiet drifting, they were both recovered somewhat from their ordeal. Buffy opened her eyes to see Spike gazing down on her with a small smile at his lips. What? she inquired, gazing back.   Just like looking at you, pet, Spike replied. A thing of beauty is a joy forever, as some poet once said.   Flattery will get you nowhere, Buffy replied, but she smiled while she did. He always had this way of making her feel like she was the only thing in the universe. She frowned slightly.   Problem love?  Spike tilted his head curiously.   Regrets, I guess, Buffy thought. A lot of wasted time.   How so?   Buffy struggled to voice her feelings. You have this amazing love to give. I could have had it any time, but instead I pushed you away. Punched you in the nose after you gave me the most amazing orgasms of my life. Beat you to a pulp when you tried to keep me from doing something stupid. Kissed Angel after all you had done for me those last few weeks in Sunnydale…   Rather not be reminded of that, thanks, Spike interrupted. I could have been less of an ass sometimes, love. Don’t make me out to be a saint. I hurt you plenty over the years. That night… in your bathroom. He swallowed, shuddering a bit at the memory of what he almost did to her. I should have dusted myself rather than come to that.   I forgave you for that long ago, Buffy soothed.   Not sure you should have, but thanks, pet. He would have given his fangs just to be able to get out of these bonds and hold her again. I don’t deserve you.   Sure you do. Remember, you have sins to atone for. I think being bound for all time to a moody Slayer who spent the last couple years kicking your ass is a perfect penance, Buffy quipped.   No amount of mayhem is worth this abuse, Spike pouted. Buffy laughed. Ironic that she had been laughing more in hell than she had on earth for quite a while.   “Still enjoying our hospitality, I see.” Satan was back. Instantly they jerked to attention. Buffy’s eyes widened and she shrank a bit in her bonds. Steady, love. I’m here, Spike soothed. Although they had managed so far to survive all the torture hell had dished out, they knew they were not in control here. Spike found himself literally unable to even conceive what worse punishment Satan could come up with.   “The two of you have been much more trouble than you are worth,” said Satan, glowering.   Despite her fear, Buffy couldn’t help but snap, “Well, as I said before, just let us out of here, and we’ll trouble you no more.”   Do shut up, there’s a good girl, thought Spike. He didn’t think that further antagonizing Satan was a winning prospect. He eyed the Prince of Lies warily, ready to do whatever he could to protect his mate if the bastard attacked her again.   Satan fixed both of them with a look of pure hatred. “Do you know what happens to souls who cause us too much trouble?”   “Never gave much thought to it, truth be told,” Spike responded.   “It’s an option I rarely use,” Satan continued. “Frankly, I’m much too much of a sadist to let my guests leave. Most of the time.”   Gotta agree, the Marquis de Sade has nothing on this guy, Spike mused. He really wished Satan would get to his point. Unless his newest torture was to talk them to death.   “So we’re special. What’s your point?” Buffy spat out. She was getting really, really tired of this guy. Buoyed by Spike’s support, she was rapidly progressing from fear to fury.   “Souls that cannot be reformed are dissolved,” said Satan, smiling cruelly. “Do you know what that means? Your soul, your essence will cease to be, for all time. It will be as though you never existed.”   Their eyes widened. The implications of that were sinking into their minds with a sickening finality.   “Don’t worry,” said Satan. “You’ll be together. And it will take a nice long time. You’ll be able to feel yourselves slipping away, bit by bit, memory by memory. But you’ll be together, just like you wanted. Never fear.” Then grinning from ear to ear, Satan snapped his fingers once more.   TBC

Chapter #13 - Out of darkness

Disclaimer: All the characters are Joss Whedon’s   Thanks so much to the loyal readers who stuck with me through this, my first fan fic! Thanks especially to Mazza and MarzBar, who reviewed practically every chapter. Feedback feeds the fire!   ********     It was black when they became aware again. They reached out and found each other’s hands. Spike pulled Buffy into his arms and held her. They could see nothing, not even each other. There was no sound, no outside sensation of any kind. But they could feel each other, and they could still hear each other’s thoughts. Where are we now? Buffy wondered.   Dunno, love. Spike responded. The phrase ‘the earth was without form, and void’ came into his mind. It had been an awfully long time since Sunday school for him, but some Bible verses came back at random times. I think we’re in the Void. Big, biblical emptiness before time and all that.   What’s going to happen to us? Buffy was suddenly afraid. This darkness, this nothingness was beyond her ability to grasp.   Shh. Just stay calm, love. He blindly stroked her hair. He ran his hand down to her chin and lifted her face into a kiss. She clung to him and returned the kiss, running her hands down his arms. She would know the shape of his body anywhere, even in this endless blackness.   Will we forget each other? Buffy asked. Despite his solid presence she could scarcely contain her rising panic. Dear God, I couldn’t bear that.   Oh love… Spike’s heart was breaking. He gripped her tighter. I can’t forget you, ever. Since the moment Drusilla turned me in that alley in… He stopped. He had meant to say that she had meant more to him than anything since his turning, but he realized that he couldn’t remember…   Spike? Buffy rubbed his arms, concerned. What were you saying?   I can’t… I can’t remember where I was born. A cold fear gripped his heart.   England, right? Buffy felt nearly certain that was right.   But where? Spike struggled not to panic. Oh God, pet. It’s like a hole, in my mind. The memory is just… gone. He started running through a mental list of various facts: his name, his parents’ names, Drusilla, Dawn. Most of it was still there, but there were gaps in the list, and it terrified him.   The full horror of what this final punishment would mean crashed in on both of them. Oh Spike, Buffy sobbed. Hold me. Just hold me.   Time kept passing, slowly and inexorably. Their memories were slipping away, so slowly that it was almost unnoticeable at first. But they would begin to realize more things were missing. My mother’s name? What was my mother’s name? What year was I born? I had a stuffed animal on my bed… all those years. What did I call it? They clung to each other, desperately.   After a time, Spike realized the futility of trying to hold on to the memories. He kissed Buffy again, slowly and tenderly. Don’t worry about the trivia, lamb. Spike said finally. There’s just us. You and me. I love you. If everything else leaves, that will remain. I know it. I don’t know anything else for certain now, but I know that.   I love you, William. As long as I exist, I love you. Buffy wrapped herself even tighter around him, and kept repeating that mantra in the darkness. I love you. I love you…   ******   The day of the big company retreat was a typical warm L.A. day, and the event was shaping up nicely. Angel had started the day with a talk about what they hoped to accomplish and so on. Everyone broke out into groups led by various consultants, engaged in a variety of ‘trust building exercises’ and Lorne had arranged a delicious lunch for everyone. They had time to socialize, came up with bold plans and brainstormed new solutions. Everyone was having such a positive experience that they scarcely noticed that by late afternoon Angel, Wesley, Gunn, and Fred had disappeared. Lorne stayed behind to be the life of the party and cover for them, while the others made their way back to the empty office building.   “Is everything ready?” Angel asked, as they took the elevator up from the parking lot. He had asked them this about twice an hour for the last 24, but they quietly reassured him once more that everything was as ready as it was ever going to be.   Fred and Gunn split off from the group and headed down to the subbasement while Angel and Wesley got in the elevator that led to the White Room. As Angel was about to push the sequence of buttons to take them up there, Wesley laid a hand on his arm. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”   “It has to be done,” Angel stated flatly. “Are you ready to do your part?” He resumed pushing buttons.   “You’re going to grab hold of the conduit, when I finish the incantation for the portal,” Wesley recited. “The amulet should channel the energy through the portal. The portal is tied to the locator spell – it will only open where they are. They should get sucked through and end up in the field generator, if we set all this up correctly.”   “Now or never, then,” said Angel. He took a deep breath, and pushed the last button. As the elevator started up, Wesley started muttering the words of the locator spell. The door opened onto the White Room just as Wesley began chanting the words to open the portal.   Angel stepped out into the room. The large black panther stalked back and forth, warily. Angel approached it slowly, stretching his hand out. Wesley’s chanting grew louder, and the panther paused in his pacing to stare menacingly at Wesley.   “Angel! Now!” yelled Wesley, and he cried out the last phrase of the spell. Angel lunged forward and tackled the panther. They rolled over and over, the panther snarling and clawing. It bit down on Angel’s arm, tearing at him like a rag doll, but still Angel hung on, wrestling with all his might.   Then there was a sound like a hurricane behind him. The amulet began to glow, and he could feel power coursing through him. He turned and stretched out one hand toward Wesley as the power shot out of his fingers like lightning into the swirling vortex. The power burned worse than holy water, but Angel set his teeth, gripped the writhing panther with his legs and other arm, and held on for dear life.   ******   Eons passed as the lovers continued to cling to each other. Almost everything they knew had been stripped from them. The names of everyone they had ever known, every place they had ever been, were lost. They had no idea what they had done to bring them to this void. They knew only that they were called Buffy and Spike, and they loved each other. No last names, even the word William had vanished. But they still knew – they were Buffy and Spike, and they loved each other.   Then out of nowhere, they saw the faintest bit of light. They shrank away from it at first, frightened. They had no memory of anything but this blackness. Then the light grew, and became a silver swirling circle. A voice, the first voice other than the ones in their heads that they had heard in millennia, called their names. “Buffy! Spike!”   “What is it?” cried Buffy, clinging to Spike. Her voice was rusty with disuse. She was bewildered by this new entry into her dark world. What new torment could this be?   “No idea, but let’s go!” Spike grabbed her hand and jumped, pulling her along. He had no idea what this thing was either, or why it was calling his name. But instinct took over and he jumped.   They fell, and they fell, and finally landed in what seemed like a sea of white fire. Power crackled around them crazily. They clung to each other, bewildered by what was happening. They saw two somehow familiar faces flickering in and out through the wall of white. “It’s working!” called a voice. What’s happening? Spike? Buffy was panicking.   Can’t tell. Hold on. Spike braced himself for whatever was coming next.   ********   Up in the White Room, Wesley heard a thunderous crack and looked toward the portal. He saw two figures fall into the opening and continue spiraling downward. “We’ve got them, Angel!”   Angel kept channeling energy through the portal. “We need to power the generator!” he ground out through clenched teeth.   Wesley saw the opening of the portal shrinking. Where there had been a yawning opening obscuring half the room there was now a 2 foot circle on the floor. Power still spiraled out of Angel’s hand and down the opening like water down a drain. Suddenly, Wesley became aware of a deep, rumbling sound.   “What the bloody hell is that?” shrieked Wesley, whirling around.   Angel was covered in blood from bites and scratches. His skin was burned in places and his face was contorted in pain. “Wes!” he shrieked. “The building! It’s going to come down! Get the others out.”   Wesley realized what Angel was saying. “Angel, no!” he pleaded. “You’ve done enough! Let’s get out of here.”   “Go!” Angel screamed. “Get them out!” Wesley almost hit the ground as the room rocked around him again. With one last look at the struggling vampire, he dived into the elevator. He pushed the button for the subbasement and held on as the building rocked again. He found himself on the verge of weeping as the doors closed, obscuring his coworker and friend.   Down in the basement, Fred adjusted dials on her equipment. The room had started shaking. Gunn urged her to hurry as they both watched the glowing column of light in the center of the room get brighter and brighter. Two figures coalesced, and gradually grew more and more distinct. There was a surge of power and a blast of air from out of nowhere. Then the light winked out, leaving only the room lighting.   Gunn and Fred squinted, momentarily blinded by the flash. When they could see again, they saw two figures in the center of the room, surrounded by Fred’s apparatus. A slender, leather coated man was staring wide eyed and panting at a small blonde woman. Buffy and Spike were back. They had done it.   Buffy was also gasping for breath. What just happened? Where are we?   Spike was just as stunned. My memories. They’re back! he realized with complete joy.   “We’ve got to get out of here!”   Wesley appeared in the doorway, his frantic voice breaking through their reverie. “Wesley??” said Buffy, shocked. “How? What…?”   “No time!” yelled Gunn. He and Wesley grabbed Buffy and Spike by the arms and pulled them toward the door, with Fred on their heels. The five of them ran headlong down the hall as the building continued to shake. Lights fell on the floor and smashed, bits of masonry started raining down on them, but they kept running. They found a flight of stairs, and dashed upward, through a door, and into the main lobby. Glass was breaking, and the floors were buckling. They dashed outside into the night, followed by a cloud of smoke and debris. They kept running until they were nearly a block away, before turning to look behind them.   The Wolfram and Hart building shuddered and cracked. Windows rained down, and floors began to collapse on each other. Buffy and Spike clung to each other in confusion. “Angel!” cried Gunn, suddenly realizing who was missing. “What happened to Angel?”   Angel was still in the White Room, sucking power out of the conduit. As the building grew more and more unstable, a voice like thunder came out of nowhere saying, “What do you think you are doing?” The Senior Partners had finally caught on.   Angel grinned through his pain. “Hopefully, pissing you off,” he growled defiantly. Then the power surged again, and he started to burn. As he grew brighter and brighter, the voices of the Senior Partners roared incoherently. Angel closed his eyes and smiled. How was that, Whistler? was his last coherent thought, before exploding into nothingness.   Outside, the building shuddered once more, then began to crumble. The little gang of survivors turned and fled to avoid the falling debris. When they looked back, the building was a twisted pile of concrete, girders, and dust.   “Oh God, Angel!” sobbed Fred. She buried her head in Wesley’s shoulder.   Buffy and Spike were still staring at each other in shock. “We’re back,” Buffy said, disbelieving. She cupped Spike’s face. It was cool and solid, and exactly as she remembered.   Spike reached out to her face as well, felt her warmth, heard her heartbeat. Alive. She was alive, and unless hell had redecorated, they were in LA. Spike turned to the others. “What just happened?”   The other three looked at each other. Finally, Wesley spoke up. “We pulled you out of hell. Angel… “ he swallowed, then continued, “Angel used that amulet of yours to power a portal to pull you out, and a generator to make you corporeal. I… I don’t think he made it.”   Spike and Buffy were stunned. “Angel did that, for us? Why?” Spike asked. He couldn’t fathom it. Angel? Sacrificing himself for Spike? Buffy he could see, but him?   “Spike, Angel felt he had wronged you, wronged everyone,” explained Wesley. “He thought he had gotten too far off from his mission. You two are destined to thwart great evil. He needed to bring you back, at any cost.”   Tears welled up in Buffy’s eyes. Although she had not had romantic feelings for Angel in a long time, his sacrifice touched her deeply. He had still cared, after all this time. Spike’s eyes misted up as well, and they wept together as they embraced. They could not get their minds around all that had happened. Relief, confusion, and sorrow fought for prominence in their thoughts. In the end, all they could do was hold each other and cry it all out.   After a few minutes, Gunn spoke up in a tired voice. “So now what?” The others had no response – they were all at a loss. They had been working with Angel for years. They couldn’t fathom what could possibly be the next move. The LA branch of Wolfram and Hart was clearly not going to be open for business tomorrow. They looked at each other, then at Buffy and Spike, waiting for someone to make a move.   Buffy eventually extracted herself from Spike’s chest and looked around at the three people who had pulled them out of hell and nothingness. “Thank you. I don’t have words to thank you enough. You… have no idea what it was like.” She shuddered at the memory. Shh, love. Don’t think about it now, came Spike’s soothing response.   “You two did not deserve to be there,” said Wesley. “Angel figured that out. You have some role yet to play in the fight against evil. Just make sure that his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”   Spike stared straight into his countryman’s eyes and grasped his hand. “I give you my word; we will take up the fight.” Wesley knew that Spike did not promise anything lightly. He shook the vampire’s hand with a nod.   “Spike?” said Buffy. He turned to look at her. She was pale, and still shaken. He didn’t imagine he looked much better himself. “Can we just… rest now? Please?” Her eyes pleaded quietly for a chance to process this ordeal. Coming back from beyond the grave twice in one lifetime was wrenching, to say the least. Buffy felt desperate for some quiet, some sleep, and some peace, if only for a little while.   Spike looked around once more in gratitude at Fred, Gunn, and Wesley. “We need some time. But we’ll be near.” The others nodded, still stunned. Then Spike turned, put his arm around Buffy’s shoulders, and they walked off into the night together.   *****                                                          Epilogue   Dawn finished her last class and headed back to her dorm room. It was Friday, and she was grateful to have a chance to relax. She had nowhere in particular to go that weekend. She figured she would catch up on her sleep, do her homework and vegetate for a while. It was these quiet weekends when she missed Buffy the most. Even when Buffy had been silent and withdrawn, she had at least been there, sitting on the couch watching old movies with her.   With a sigh, she sat down at her computer to check her email. Xander had sent a note from where he was collecting a new slayer in Morocco. Giles had sent one of his periodic missives about applying herself. Then scrolling down the list, she noticed an unfamiliar address: BSWP@netmail.com   Curious, she clicked on the message. Her jaw dropped open slowly as she read: Dear Dawn, You’re probably going to think this is some kind of a sick prank, but it’s not. We’re back. Spike and I, we’re back. Angel pulled us out of hell, and brought us back. I am still a bit shaky on the details of how he did it, but he died to save us.   I know I hurt you, hurt everyone. I know how hard it is when everyone leaves you again, and again. I regretted what I did every minute that I was gone. I thought about just staying out of your life for good. But then I realized I would be making the same mistake that Spike made. You deserve to know the truth.   We’re not going to be coming back to the Slayer fold. I have had enough of that life. Giles and the others can handle and train the new slayers. Spike and I have a new mission of our own to fulfill. We’ll be there if there’s a major crisis, but we need to be on our own for a while.   If you’re angry at me, and never want to speak to me again, I would understand. But I just want you to know that we love you. Spike and I will always love you. We’re together now, and we always will be. If you ever need us, ever want to talk to us, you can reach us at this address. You can decide for yourself when and if you want to tell the others. Just know that we are out there, and we’re ok. Take good care of yourself. Make us proud.   Love, Buffy and Spike   Dawn shook her head back and forth, stunned. For long minutes she read and reread the note. Her emotions cycled between disbelief, anger, and hope. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Was this a hoax? Someone’s cruel idea of a joke? And if it was real, how dare they? How dare they do this to her? What right had Buffy to break her heart like that? She hesitated.   Then, taking a deep breath, she hit ‘reply’.   The End.