Jenny was unnerved.
Even with Rupert returned, she couldn’t get rid of this sense of foreboding that they could well be too late. To retrieve the second orb from his desk would take a mad dash into the emerging morning and even the light and strengthening rays of sunshine did little to stop her heart from pounding. It was irrational, and perhaps she could blame it all on adrenaline, but she knew in her gypsy heart that one way or another, it would end today. The cloud of horror they had all been existing under for these months was about to come crashing to a finale and she just didn’t know what her part would be in it.
She could take all the precautions under the sun and still it wasn’t enough to make her feel safe. Only the eradication of Angel would do that for her, and not for the first time she had to wonder at the reasoning of her ancestors—to choose to curse the creature that had destroyed her family, her clan by taking away their most loved, rather than just wipe him out completely. Where did it serve to offer a loophole to a monster such as Angelus?
Every sharp noise made her jump. Even as she watched Rupert putting together a strong cup of tea, she flinched as the teacup met the saucer. When he carried in a tray laden with sweet tea and some snacks to take the edge off the long night, she shook as the teaspoons clattered against the surface.
But when the front door crashed open and slammed against the wall, she was already on her feet and screaming.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Buffy ran.
She pushed her legs as fast as they would go so she could eat up the seconds with every step. She had to get to Giles; she needed back-up and she needed explanations. She needed to know what had happened to Xander and whether Ms. Calendar was okay.
The sun had become stronger as she made her way through the streets of Sunnydale, so when the tingle telling her a vampire was near, she almost collapsed in relief. The blow to her back was her first clue of a vital mistake. Angelus almost glided around in front of her to gloat as she braced herself for further impact. Her sword lay beside her, jarred from her hand as the kick had propelled her to her knees. Her palm and fingers claimed it back as she slowly and warily regained her feet and watched her enemy. He glared at her weapon even as he maliciously growled at her.
“Look at me, little girl. Do I look even better in the sun?”
“Truthfully? You look like crap. You’re a bit on the pale side and you should really get some sunglasses cause that funky squint you got there is so not attractive. Guess the glare must be gettin’ to ya.”
And then she struck, a spin kick that made his head jolt back even as he swung his body back towards her. She held her sword back, waiting for the time it would help—maybe if she sliced his enormous head off it would actually kill him.
The trade of blows were fast and frightening, many passers-by up for early morning strolls running in fright from the violent couple. The fight uncovered secrets that new and improved Buffy had no knowledge of; Angelus was fighting to win. Fighting to kill. Her past with Spike and this ring now showed that he was playing—not as determined to wipe the world of another Slayer as his boasting tongue had implied. It made Buffy smile even as her body was weakening and barely holding the invulnerable vamp off from claiming her throat.
A high-pitched scream made her jump and step back as a startling blur of Xander came thumping out of nowhere. His body slammed into Angelus, his own sword becoming lodged in the vampire’s thigh even as the momentum of the collision took Angelus into the passage of a speeding car. He hit it hard and flew several feet in the air.
Buffy wasn’t about to wait to see what the result of that kind of impact would have. There was no point wasting escape time to see if the invulnerable vamp would succumb to even a minor injury. Instead, Buffy flung Xander over her shoulder and was running again. She felt rather than heard the pursuit of the vampire, spurning her to up her pace until she slowed to slam open Giles’s door and fall into safety.
Invulnerable apparently still needed an invitation, Buffy acknowledged with a smirk as Angelus slammed hard into the barrier, his fury obvious in the feral snarls and sharp fangs he flashed at them. He started punching at the outer walls, making holes even as his hand couldn’t pass through them. He roared and then visibly pulled himself back from total animalistic outrage.
And then the facts clicked in for Buffy. He was standing in daylight, not even a tiny whisp of smoke indicating his reasoning behind two centuries of sun phobia. Angelus had the ring—the ring that had been sitting inside Spike’s belly and keeping him safe for months. She thought she’d never be colder than when she first saw that he was missing, but this was too much.
“Oh God, what did you do?” She crawled her way to her knees like an old woman, her terror at losing Spike before he could know she loved him far too much for her youth to bear. Then her feet, an almost too weak shuffle closer to the barrier as she tried to find some trace of honesty in his malicious face. Some small evidence of decency, some small remainder of Angel’s kindness.
He held up his hand and waved the ring in her face.
“All I did, dear Buffy, was retrieve a little jewel that would serve me a whole lot better than wimpy William was using it for.” He grinned at her, feeding off her misery as he almost strutted with his success, black leather swirling around him like the evil cape that it was.
“Oh God, tell me you didn’t dust him.” Tears were obscuring her view, but she saw the small glint of malice even as she tried to force herself to ignore it.
“If you insist. I didn’t dust him. I let Dru do that. Her call, being that she sired the idiot in the first place.”
“No,” Buffy called out, hands covering her face as her body collapsed into Giles’s arms.
“We gave him a choice,” Angelus shrugged, like any offer from him was a gift. “To join up with us again, wreak havoc and make the streets bleed. But, he just didn’t seem up to it. Laughed at us, he did. Made Dru lose her temper a bit.”
“Get away from my home, you pillock.”
Angelus laughed as he backed up, then turned abruptly and strode off out of their view.
“And watch your bloody back, wanker,” Giles whispered after him, holding Buffy as she sank into despair. “Right. It would appear that our position has become rather precarious. We need to reinstate his soul or we aren’t going to make it.”
“Yeah, gonna have to agree with you on that one, G-man. I don’t think Buffy can keep surviving a vamp she can’t hurt. So, what do we have to do?”
“We need your orb from the school, Rupert.” Jenny’s voice was quiet as she came up to them, inching forward to close the door against the world.
“Whoa. Did you not notice the big scary vampire with the ring of ‘nothing can kill me’ that just herded us in here like sheep? How are we gonna get to the school without becoming vamp chow?”
“As usual, Xander, you have outlined our problem with such panache. Obviously, we are going to have to have Buffy defend us while we collect the orb and then come back here. Jenny can then do the spell while the three of us go and see if that lying twit is actually telling the truth about Spike.” His own voice was hard, trying to hold back the pain losing the bleach-haired vampire made him feel.
Giles watched his slayer carefully, his brow furrowing in thought. He shook her gently, rousing her from her state of numbing grief.
“Come on, Buffy. We might not have much time.”
She moaned as he shifted her position on the floor, making her support more of her own weight as he tried to get her to come out of her state and help them get organised. She blinked against her many tears and Giles sighed in relief.
“I’m okay, but that son of a bitch is dust, so help me.” Her voice was crackling with her grief, not confirmed but real, even if her love still unlived or not. Spike had to have been tortured for Angelus to have that ring, and even if he’d had the good sense to keep Spike alive, he was so going down.
“We should all stick together. Even if he follows us…er, where are we going again?” She was distracted, obviously imagining the pain she was going to inflict.
“Buffy, did Spike by any chance ever bite you?”
“What?” Her eyes were round, looking at her Watcher disbelievingly, wondering at his complete lack of worry at the possible answer to his question. “Why are you asking me that now?”
“S-sometimes, a victim can feel through the bite the one that made the mark. I-I just thought that if Spike had ever bitten you, you could perhaps tell if he was still alive.”
“No,” Buffy said through the clog of emotion in her throat. “We were waiting for my birthday. You know, as a gift to both of us. I can’t feel him at all.” And she finally broke down and sobbed into her open palms.
Giles patted her awkwardly on the back and felt tears gather in his own eyes, pushing them back for when they had proof, one way or the other.
“Come now, Buffy. He may not have been dusted, and we are wasting time. We may yet be able to save him.”
She wiped her eyes and tried to hold the urge to continue crying. “Okay, lets get going then. We’ll get this funny ball thingy and get Angel back his soul. Then he can give me the ring back and I am going to stake his ass.”
Giles flinched at the cold stare she gave her weapon and wondered aloud, “But Buffy, surely if Angel has his soul back, you won’t need to kill him.”
She felt the struggle within—a Slayer without a history of loyalty and another who couldn’t forgive the games a second time around. Okay, so it was more of a struggle against the slayer and doing the right thing. If he had a soul, Buffy knew he was capable of doing good things. He held the tide of evil back in LA while she controlled it over the Hellmouth. Maybe she would alter too much the balance by killing him, but God she wanted to. If Spike was dust, then it might not even be an issue. She didn’t think the Powers would go out of their way to bring back a vamp without a soul, even though he had done as many selfless world savey things as Angel had with the benefit of one.
“Fine. But he better not get in my way. Let’s go.”
Buffy was again strong on her feet, determination and anger guiding her steps as she carefully led the small procession out of the building and to Giles’s car. Even if Angel was chasing them, she doubted that he could overtake them if they were driving.
Once the car started and sputtered down the road, she readjusted that assumption and groaned out loud.
“Ever thought of a vehicle upgrade, Giles?” Xander beat her to the punch and it brought a pout to her lips. Still, her eyes were actively looking out for any extremely pale people sporting the biker look.
They reached the school with no incident and quickly retrieved the orb. They all practically ran back to the car, grateful that it was still too early for students to throng in the halls and nazi principles were still munching on their immoral breakfasts. Not once did Buffy feel a tingle at the base of her neck—not once feeling the threat on their lives. Safely back inside, Giles set about helping Jenny reorganise for the spell casting and Buffy paced, feeling caged and unsteady about the lack of Angelus. It could only mean that he was at his lair and there was a reason for him to be there. It gave Buffy hope that Spike might still be there, but every second added to the torture Angelus was more than likely inflicting.
“Okay, are you guys ready?”
“What about Willow?” Xander reminded and Buffy felt herself falter.
Willow wasn’t powerful here. She wasn’t a witch, but she could help Jenny. Then again, maybe it would be best to take things slowly and let Willow miss this little match.
“No time,” she answered. “Willow is safe for now, and I just want to give Spike that same opportunity. We can do this. Jenny will give Angel back his soul and we’ll stop this. It’s over today.”
Xander nodded, his face solemn in the face of the threat to his landlord—to his friend. The soulless vampire who gave him safety and security in his home. He’d laugh at the irony once they had the bloodsucker safe and sound.
Giles gathered up his own stash of stakes and crosses, passing a large one to Xander and replenishing his now empty sword hand with a shorter blade. Longer than a knife, it was big enough for Xander to not feel his manliness threatened in the least.
With a small nod to Jenny, Giles reassured himself she could do it and they were gone, leaving the gypsy woman to tilt the scale and give them a chance. And as long as Angelus didn’t burn his flat down, she should be safe while she was doing it.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“Piss…off—” coughed Spike as Angelus punched him in the guts once again. Blood poured from the wound already in his belly, his skin scorched around the cuts where Angelus had tried to cauterize the wound. He’d been disappointed when Spike hadn’t gone up in flames. But he waved around an old-fashioned torch, waiting for his next round of hit-and-miss.
“Really, William. That is no way to talk to your elders.” Dru eyed the chains, smiling serenely at her childe as he hung limp and done against their tension.
“It is if they’re bloody senile, an’ if you think I’m gonna eat one of Buffy’s friends then you’re barmy.” The extra long sentence exhausted him, crippled him more and took every bit of strength. He had struggled all this time to stay conscious, not wanting to leave Demongirl on her own to face her own round of torture.
And she would.
As soon as Angelus stopped having fun with him, she’d be next. But he could feel himself slipping, his eyelids getting harder to hold open despite the bloody great glare of the fire that was getting closer and closer to his body.
“Wish you’d taken me up on my offer now? None of this would have been happening.” Anya still acted put out, despite the fact that she was in an extremely precarious position.
“No, you’re right. It’d be bleeding worse. Thanks, pet.” And his struggle was almost at an end, the droop of his lids longer and heavier.
The torch arced closer and was about to make contact with his hair when a great flash reflected off something straight into the remaining narrow slit of his eye.
“Arghhhh,” screamed Angelus as he clutched at the stump of his arm, the torch now clattering too close to Spike’s feet. The brunette stumbled backwards, staring almost hypnotised at the spurting blood from his forearm.
“How?” he spluttered, tears in his eyes.
Buffy rushed forward and kicked the torch away, quickly kissing Spike’s bloodied lips and forcing the cries of rage back as she wanted to rip Angelus apart. Then she leaned down and picked up the hand, feeling her blood heat with fury that she hadn’t been lucky enough to cut the hand off that wore the ring, and then dropped Angelus’s flesh back to the dirty floor.
“Giles, stand here. Don’t let Dru or any of their minions come anywhere near Spike.” She didn’t take her eyes off her enemy even once, staring at him with cold intent. “Xander, you come here and guard Anya.”
“Oh Buffy, you remember me?” The ex-demon grinned, feeling happy that she was back with Xander, and a young virile Xander, too.
“Why wouldn’t I? And I’ll be sure to have a chat to you later about trying to trick people into making vengeance wishes against…certain people.”
Anya swallowed guiltily. “Not a demon now,” she affirmed while waving a chained arm in the air. “Can’t kill me.”
“Of course not, Anya. But I’m gonna kill him.” She pointed her sword at Angelus and took a step forward, almost groaning when he quickly jumped up and gained his own weapon.
“Nah uh uh, baby. Not if I kill you first.”
“I just cut your hand off. I’m thinking I might just have a chance.”
Buffy sustained the first blow, her sword clanging against the clashing metal of Angelus’s sword. The blades slashed impressively through the air, gashes appearing over bodies and leaving bright trails of red as the blood began to run.
When she’d staked Spike when he wore the ring, it hadn’t even bled. The wound had healed immediately upon itself, yet she was cutting Angelus with this sword, could feel the power zing through her body each time it made contact and wondered if Spike maybe got it from the same tomb he’d recovered the gem.
As she continued to fight, it seemed to have more impact that any normal weapon. It stabbed into his body and the gem was failing to heal the vampire, weakening him with his battle wounds rather than making his invulnerability matter.
Buffy grinned. She held the one and only natural weapon to the gem in her hand and Spike had kept it hidden for her. It could only mean he was going to give it to her as a gift. Only he would think a weapon as a present would be romantic. Though it was shiny.
The tide was more than held as she could inflict slowing marks on her opponent, getting angrier and angrier as she took small looks at a beaten and unconscious Spike. Her arm felt a burst of energy as Angelus fell to the floor on his back, gasping for unneeded air. Buffy lined the tip of her sword over his chest and readied for the final thrust.
But then the glow—she’s seen it before when they’d stood in front of an opened Acathla, hell beckoning just as Angel regained his soul. That possession hadn’t saved him then; it was yet to be decided if it would save him now.
While he was hurting, struggling with the reality of his many changes, Buffy quickly bent forward and took the ring from his finger, feeling nothing as she stood and turned her back. This time there were no tears of pain for having to do her job, no gratitude that she had her Angel back. This time there was Spike. Loyal, supportive Spike who had done so much for her, both pre-wish and post.
Buffy rushed to him, letting him lean against her body as she placed the ring on his finger. She sobbed in relief as the wounds on his body slowly closed, though his lethargy and weakness took much longer. She watched him, confused to why he wasn’t getting strong and fully healed like he had the other times.
“He’s lost too much blood,” Anya pointed out matter-of-factly and Buffy felt her own stupidity.
Turning her back on a room of vamps was a mistake. Buffy felt it the second Dru dived for her throat, her nails causing a slit to the side of her neck before the vampiress was pushed off the Slayer and slammed to the floor. In seconds Giles was over her, a cold emotionless face as he thrust the stake into her chest, dust billowing around him and then quite calmly settling to the stone floor.
Spike jerked as his sire departed the world, his lids pushed opened in determination to see the last of the strongest link to who he was. The bond dissipated a lot less painfully than he had always suspected it would and he felt himself drawn to the sliver of blood on Buffy’s neck like a thirsty man in the desert.
Just a taste was all he needed, but he could never take without asking. Buffy saw the focus of his eyes and felt the tingle of both love and awareness. And she turned her head, pushing his mouth to the small flow of blood, trusting that he wouldn’t take this opportunity to sink in his fangs. He licked her flesh, healing the small wound even as he consumed her blood. Her body felt every tease and she broke out into goosebumps. She cried out her relief into his throat.
They shook against each other, Buffy only aware of his tearful murmurings into her throat as she calmed herself down. “So sorry, baby. Love you. So sorry.”
Her tearstained face pulled back to look at him hard, take in the minor marks still visible from his ordeal. Buffy rested her open palm against his cheek lightly, feeling the reassuring cool against her skin as she looked into his eyes and saw what she had always seen—but refused to let her heart acknowledge.
“There’s no need for sorry, okay. We’ll talk later. When we get you home.”
He nodded at her, his eyes betraying a wariness that wasn’t that new and it made her heart hurt for all the pain she had put him through. Not yet. She’d let him see when they were alone. This was news too big for her to tell them all, and she just wanted to get away from Angel. Looking down she spied the severed hand, and in a petty manner kicked it over to her very big ex.
“Not sure how the whole vampire thing and losing limbs go, but here it is if you know how to fix it.” Then she ignored him, turning back to the job of freeing Spike from his chains.
“Oh, Angel had the keys, Buffy. Should be in his jacket.”
“Thanks, Ahn.” Buffy tossed the words over her shoulder at the captured woman as she marched to Angel’s side, not even looking at him as she forcefully searched his jacket pockets. Once she’d found them, she returned and found herself looking into stormy awe-filled blue.
“Buffy?” he asked and she kissed him, slow and deep and the way his Buffy had always done on the few occasions she’d decided to be soft.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” She waited for his confused nod and then released him from the chains, preventing his body from falling forward to the floor and into his sire’s dust.
Giles still stood watching the dust swirl around his feet, a look of blankness that Buffy could only interpret as him dealing with that link he mentioned—the victim and their strange bond to their attacker.
When Spike had steadied himself, she moved to release Anya, hugging the girl hard despite not ever being that friendly with her. She was the only link now for whole Buffy. Anya and Spike knew her entire history—not in the mode of a story, but in reality. It formed a bond she had never shared with the girl before. Even though she should be mad at them both for fooling around with her life and for Spike’s foolish delving into the wonkiness that was Anya’s wishes, she felt good.
Loved.
At home.
She felt like she had chances this time and it was all because of them. All because she’d crushed Spike’s heart and he’d succumbed to vengeance. Not that she could quite work out how that all went.
But just like Jenny had suspected, like Buffy had demanded, it was ended. Angel was for the moment safe, and she could look forward to years in Spike’s arms.
She lost herself in his gaze in a way that she’d never before allowed. She’d always been his, even when she’d been busy denying it.
She couldn’t wait for their future and all the chances she had to make up for it.
Spike had made her whole.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The darkened background hid the final figure of the evil team, shielding Ethan from the occupied saviours as he slipped out of the factory and sought his freedom as far away from Sunnydale as he could get. Running from the carnage and biding his time for another day, ideas already swirling in his head as he disappeared.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Gahhhh, I love you all so much for first reading my story, and second for those that review. This is the final chapter (though there is an epilogue!) and I would be over the freaking moon if this fic made over 300 reviews. I would adore some readers who don't normally review to try that now. I was a lurker once. I never reviewed, then I wrote and now I know the importance of knowing how people feel about what you write. So, if you have been following and would like to tell me what you think--good or bad, as long as you are not unneccesarily nasty--please give it a shot. This is your next to last chance on this fic. Please???