Author's Note: The words are from Dylan Thomas's poem, "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night."
*****************

KENYA, AFRICA-

The last splash of gold disappeared from the sky, overcome by the deep umber of evening. It really was beautiful to behold. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’d trade a thousand, a million sunsets like this one for one sunrise. Just one.

Of course, he knew he was the only one who could see its beauty, at least to this extent. Human eyesight was dull and dim.

As his hand rested against the rock formation, genuinely surprised at how grateful he was that it was there to keep him stable, I have never felt this tired, he stared at the fading light, squinting to fend off nature’s last jab at his eyes before it was taken from him completely.

The pain eased as the light dimmed. Going…going…gone. Grieve it on its way.

Rage. Rage against the dying of the light. Ah, poetry. Well, that’s something.

And then there was nothing.

Suddenly he was bereft. The pain had been good to him. It reminded him of his place in the world, reminded him of what was, and what he could not have. I know my place. Just need reminding. Thank you. Now it was gone, and he sighed at the ping of its loss.

Giles had been so amazed by the resources Panya had access to that he did not notice the vampire’s distress, “This is amazing,” Giles mused as he looked through the box the lad had brought them this morning, “There are six liters of spring water here. And water purification tablets for when that runs out. Bandages, disinfectant,” he fleetingly glanced at Spike as he stood, seemingly admiring the sunset, “Plasma for you, rations for me. Fresh clothing. Good Lord, there’s enough here to survive a siege. There’s even a box of Earl Grey…”

“How appropriate,” Spike sighed, “All the comforts of home. I believe, if you look hard enough, you’ll find milk and honey as well. For the tea, of course.”

The tin, hollow sound of Spike’s voice earned Giles his full attention. He turned and asked, not unsympathetically, “You all right?”

Spike could feel the concern rolling off the Watcher, who, thank the gods, had at least enough sense not to crowd him.

A trapped animal was a dangerous thing.

He smiled a wry smile as Giles came to stand beside him at the mouth of the cave, “Yeah Rupert…I’ll live,” he pointed to where the light had been just a moment ago. Just learned too late. “Too many of those, is all. Not enough of the other.”

Giles could not help but be moved by the being standing so open and vulnerable before him. His training at the Council’s academy had told him this was impossible. Yet here it was, standing right beside him. The thing that could not be, but was.

He tried to study him with a critical eye, but he found that he could not. In fact, the more he tried to puzzle this out, the more it became an enigma.

And not just an enigma. The instant “William the Bloody” sought his soul, the instant the concept formed, he became an anathema as well.

The Council could not permit him to exist. He would be hunted.

Spike’s shoulders hunched slightly, as if a weight had been placed on them. A weight Giles could see that he was having difficulty carrying as his face clouded over and the lines of his face hardened, becoming older, “It’s just so heavy. I knew it would be. It’s mine and I’ll carry it…I’d forgotten how heavy it was, and I’m so tired. I want to put it down. I need to rest. Can’t…no one to help. This is mine. It’s all mine.”

Giles eyed him cautiously in a sidelong glance. He could see the tumult as it coursed through his body, the muscles responding to a sense memory that was clearly painful.

Rage subdued by longing, overcome by loses too numerous to count.

It was a volatile mixture. Giles saw the flash, and knew that he was witnessing an explosion. The vampire’s eyes shut and he heard the rumble rising, giving him warning. But despite himself, despite the fact that the adrenaline was rushing through his bloodstream, his every nerve poised to preserve life, Giles could not make his legs move. He was set in stone.

The air around him cracked with agony. The grotto’s walls shimmered and shook with the devastating wave of sound.

The agony of living death turned on him, looked him in the eye and he knew he was going to die. The moment that stretched into eternity shattered everything he knew. It truly was a wondrous thing to behold. The sight took the breath from his body, and still he couldn’t move.

He accepted it. I’m ready. And it truly is all right that it’s you. Rather fitting. It is a shame that the world will never know what I know now. They haven’t seen you. But I do. I do. Now.
************************************************

LONDON, ENGLAND-

Lydia Chalmers waited. Her nerves were raw. She hadn’t slept since her return from Africa, and she was dreading her debriefing. She was still having difficulty getting the sight of the inside of a gun barrel out of her mind.

It was something that would stay with her. And, the memory of his eyes would be with her until the end of her days. He was lethal. He would carry through on his words; there was no doubting it.

She shuddered even thinking about it.

The trouble was that, as deadly as she knew Rupert Giles could be, the Council was even deadlier. They had no compunction where their operatives were concerned. The Council knew how to extract information when necessary, by whatever means necessary.

She was expendable, and she knew it. Quentin Travers knew it. And so did Rupert Giles. She had seen what he was trying to convey to her when he’d let her return to Tsavo rather than kill her, as he had threatened. She could almost hear him speaking the words:

You’re a scientist. This is the missing link. Don’t let them destroy him. At least give him a chance to survive. If you give them what they want, you’re dead. You know that. You’ve seen something, and the Council cannot allow dissention. It cannot abide debate.

I’m giving you a chance to fight another day. Take it!

She had seen the pained, frightened look in the vampire’s eyes and it had nearly stolen her breath.

Out of respect for both Rupert Giles and the vampire, she would give them that time.

She just hoped it was enough. Because soon, the hunter would become the hunted.

She knew this as soon as she stepped into Travers’s office for her debriefing.
*********************************************************

KENYA, AFRICA-

The swell of misery found a voice even as its vessel crashed once again to the sand, brought low by the fury inside. The depth of emptiness was infinite, and his voice broke as deep, soul-wracking sobs bubbled up from inside him, “Do you want to know how many sunrises I’ve missed? Because, I know. I’ve kept a tally, even before this…I counted. Today marks forty-seven thousand four hundred and fifty. I had twenty-six years of sunrises. Twenty-six years!” his voice was trembling and fading, crushing itself on the rocks in a sea of loss, in an attempt to stop the pain. His voice had been pushed to the limit, making his words barely a whisper. But the agony was unmistakable and it made the words clang with urgency. Giles heard them and slowly began to realize that he was still alive, “Twenty-six! Years, Rupert! And I can’t remember a blessed one of them.”

Giles stared at the broken vampire as he wept in the sand. This indeed was the rarest, most hauntingly beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

The moisture of his tears had caused the sand, displaced by his collapse, to adhere to his face. It made him appear savage.

No, not savage. New. Something new, and unspoiled.

As he drew a shaking breath, he knew the Council would not touch him. It did not matter what he had to do or who he had to cross. They would not touch him.

Giles knelt to try and offer what comfort he could. Making sure Spike’s eyes were clear, and focused on him, he forced his parched throat to work. His mouth turned up at one corner as a soul looked up from the very pit of darkness. The smile was not one of glee, but one of camaraderie and shared experience, “A sunrise in England? Who among us can remember seeing that?”
************************************

DEVON, ENGLAND-

She could feel the power coursing through her. There was so much hurt. But soon that would all be ended and she would be nothing. It was all nothing. The power would destroy the hurt. Destroy her. That’s what she wanted, an end to the hurt.

Xander. No! Let me finish this. I know you hurt too. Let me stop it. Please let me stop the hurt.

He was talking now, but she couldn’t hear him. The wind and the electric spark crackling in her body made her deaf. She didn’t want this powerful feeling to stop. It took away the pain and that’s all that mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

No! You can’t say that! You can’t love me. Love hurts, and I don’t want to hurt ever again.

Stop! Stop. I’ll make you stop. It hurts. Love hurts and I want you to stop. Stop! Stop! I’ll make you stop.

She felt the power surging through her body. It was stronger than the hurt. She felt the swell rise up in her and the blast was strong. So strong she couldn’t control it.

And it was good. The hurt was gone.

She looked up. Xander was on the ground asleep.

He wasn’t moving. Xander? Xander…get up.

No.

No!

NO!!

“No!” Willow screamed. The pillow on her bed was soaked with sweat and tears. She sat up, desperately trying to catch her breath.

Xander was dead. And she killed him.

What kind of monster am I?
*****************************

KENYA, AFRICA-

This was very painful to watch. Giles watched Spike’s eyes as the wave of loss ebbed, leaving the ache of sorrow. He began to focus again, and Giles sighed with exhaustion. Giles was suddenly grateful that Panya was there to relieve him. He needed time to rest. Just being present and witnessing Spike’s agony was arduous, and he was only a bystander.

He felt certain that Spike was experiencing the worst pain he’d ever felt. And now, there was no physical wound to bandage. No balm he could offer other than the tenuous kinship they had.

There was a questioning in Spike’s eyes that he had no answer to, “Why did I do it? Why, Rupert? Do you know what I did, what kind of things I did?”

“I know. Why don’t you rest?” Giles asked as he tried to settle Spike’s mind and encourage him to rest his body in the small nest he’d built near the grotto’s right far corner.

Distraught blue eye turned to him and Giles was touched by the depth of emotion he saw in them, “You’re not leaving?”

“I have to. People need to know…”

Spike shook his head fiercely and gasped, “No! No, you can’t…” he was pacing. It was an attempt at normalcy in the face of chaos, and the Watcher could see that he was losing ground, “You can’t leave me. No…no, don’t. Please? I could…I…I can’t.”

Giles remained calm, “I’m not leaving you alone. Panya is here,” he nodded as Panya smiled warmly, “ You won’t be alone. But I need a rest. And Buffy needs to know.”

The pacing stopped, and the look on Spike’s face was a look of complete and utter awe, “Buffy?” he whispered, “That was true? She’s not…? She’s still…”

Giles nodded. And, as he did, he could see the weight lifting off of Spike’s shoulders, “…Alive?”

An imperceptible nod begged him to go on, to say it again. He complied. It was his honor, his pleasure to do so, “Yes, she’s alive. She would want to know what happened to you.”

A raised brow, and then, “Really? Do you know? Can you tell her? Because I bloody well can’t.”

Giles sighed as he walked out to the lorry driven by Panya’s brother-in-law, and shrugged, “I’ll try. This is new territory. It may be difficult to put into words.”

Spike chuckled in spite of himself, “Oh Watcher, you have no idea.”
********************************

LONDON, ENGLAND-

As Lydia Chalmers left his office, Quentin Travers knew that she had lied to him. And, once she was dealt with, “William the Bloody” would be tracked, like the animal he was, and he would be killed.