A New Life. Or Death. It's Really All the Same Thing, it Seems.

Chapter 1

All hell had been let loose and now it crumbled around them, cliffs and walls and debris all falling down as the crater formed and the light from Spike's…whatever he wore around his neck, penetrated the air and outshone the darkness.

Spike couldn't define this feeling…but the power, the helplessness, the strength and weakness, the feeling of…of feeling, truly feeling something (besides pure guilt as newly reacquired souls will cause) welled up in him until he thought he would burst. He hadn't felt like this since he was human, and even then…never quite like this. It was a feeling that was not all good, not all bad, but strong. And just before he got lost in it, he felt her small hand work its way into his, anchoring him back...well, in hell, though it didn't feel like it now…and his eyes found hers. There were tears in them…tears for him. She was crying for him. He'd seen her cry before, but now she was crying only for him. It made him want to cry, which was not something that happened often. But it also evoked a feeling of elation, seeing her feel for him. Or at least put on a well-performed show.

"I love you." That feeling of elation hit him again, flowing through his body and filling his heart. Oh, he'd waited so long to hear those words. With all of the time he'd spent living, alive and dead, it should only have felt like a few hours, minutes even, but it felt like an eternity that he'd waited…an eternity since the day he'd first realized he loved her. Probably because his entire life before that seemed like a faded and insignificant part of his existence. Buffy had only been alive for twenty-two years now, and as far as he was concerned, his life might as well have begun twenty-two years ago. The world before Buffy meant nothing to him. So it should have meant the world to him to hear her say those words, and yet…

"No you don't. But thanks for saying." Considering how much he'd wanted it, it meant little to him to hear the words now. Because in his mind, despite her tears, the slayer's words rang with insincerity. He was about to die, and she knew it. Her words were meant to be comfort to a dying man, and nothing more. So they were empty to him.

There was not a shred of doubt in Spike's mind that death was seconds away—a death that he wouldn't recover from— and he was perfectly content to leave this life as a hero—a champion, as she'd called him—with the last thing he felt being her warm hand entwined in his. But of course, this was the hellmouth. A person couldn't even die a normal abnormal death on or anywhere near the hellmouth. It just didn't work that way around here. Not even when it seemed like it already had…

Flames consumed his hand and hers. They licked at their fingers, and just when the thought hit him that perhaps her hand wouldn't be the last thing he'd feel, that maybe she'd be sensible and let go…the chance was taken away from her.

The light emanating from Spike's pendant burned its brightest yet, encompassing nearly all of his surroundings…and then he burned. The swelling of his soul and the fire consuming the entwined hands seemed to fuse together into one force, and then in an instant…he was a skeleton…then ashes…then nothing.

*****

Spike felt like he was smiling. But of course that was impossible. How could he be smiling? How could he feel like he was doing anything? He was sure he hadn't just died and gone somewhere else. He'd died in hell, where would he have gone from there—the next dimension over? That would be a bit anticlimactic, wouldn't it? He could almost picture it. He'd just open his eyes and see the others around him mourning their tragic fate...'Hey guys, I was just a few miles over there, hanging out in that dimension. Then I burst into ashes and ended up over here, kind of a hellish teleportation thing, I guess. Is that new?' Mm…no, that couldn't be it. Hell was out.

So what then…heaven? HAH. He nearly laughed out loud at that idea. Although of course that was silly. He couldn't laugh…or have ideas…no, after everything he'd done as a vampire, and the nothing he'd done as a human, there was no way he was in heaven now. As much as he'd wanted to change, to be a good man, for Buffy and then because he felt enough to really want to be a better person, he couldn't see himself strolling along golden streets and being welcomed into angels' open arms.

No, he was so sure that he had to be nowhere, to be nothing. He'd felt himself turn to nothing, and right now, he was okay with that. Content with the memories of his last few moments…of the feeling of Buffy's hand in his and the last words she'd said to him, insincere or not. At least she'd been there. It was enough to make him smile now. But no! Aaah, for all his reasoning, he was right back to where he'd started. He wasn't smiling. He couldn't be. He wasn't sure of anything because there was no him to be sure! He was not content with memories because there was no him to be content and no mind to remember. There was nothing.

And then he opened his eyes. Nope. He'd been right. Darkness. Nothing.

"Spike?"

Apparently nothing could hear.

"…Buffy?"

And speak. And open its eyes.

"Where are we?"

"I think a better question is…are we?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Are you…alright?"

"I—I think so…yeah, I'm fine. Where are you?"

He felt a chill shoot down through his spine, which apparently still existed, when Buffy reached out and put a hand on his arm. She was here. She was really here. Alive or dead, he wasn't sure he really cared. Whatever they were, they were together.

"Oh. There you are. Wh-where are we? Are we somewhere? I feel like I'm floating."

He hadn't realized it until then, but she was right. He could feel no surface under him, see nothing around him. Was he standing up or lying down? He shifted into a sitting position. Right. Lying down then. He stood up and taking the hand she'd put on his arm, pulled Buffy up with him.

From a distance, a speck of light appeared and got slowly larger until the glow it gave off reached them. It was just enough to bathe their faces in the faintest light so they could see each other in the surrounding darkness. But if there was anything in that surrounding darkness, they couldn't see it.

But she was all he wanted to see now anyway. "Buffy…you're alive. You're here. You're…whole." He reached out and brushed his hand against her cheek. He could touch her. He could see her, touch her, hear her, talk to her. She smiled tentatively back at him. "I am. So are you. Do you think we're alive?"

"I don't know. And truthfully, I don't care. As long as—"

What was he doing?? He was a fool, even in death. And he had a strong suspicion that they were dead, whole or not. He yanked his hand away from her face and stepped away from her. Or at least, he meant to. It was hard to tell without a floor.

"But of course I'm sure you're worried about Dawn. And your friends. And the whole post-saving the world thing. They'll need you to help them figure out what to do now, and everything. We should find a way to go back…"

"I'm not sure we can. I'm not even sure we're alive."

"So? I wasn't alive for a long time before I died this time. But we still exist. Don't see why everybody always thinks this whole death thing is the end of it all. I mean, what does it really matter anyway? So long as you can walk and talk and think and feel…which clearly we still can. So I think—"

"Spike."

"Yeah?"

"I meant it. I do love you."

He scoffed at that. "Oh, come on, love, we both know that's not true. You could have had me any time. And I honestly mean that in the purest sense of the word. I was all yours, whenever you wanted me. But you didn't want me. No use pretending you did. Not now, and not before, when you thought I was about to die alone. It is what it is, at least do me the favor of not lying to me."

"That's not fair. I did mean—"

"Don't. Alright, Buffy? Just don't. Now, what do you say we figure out where the hell we are?" He stalked off toward the source of the light, and she followed, for once.

"I'm kind of afraid that's exactly where we are."