Caeruleum
Episode 1: Full Circle
Fighting in the rain wasn't as fun as Spike had thought it might have been. In fact, fighting at ten thousand to one odds wasn't all it was cracked up to be either.
In a moment of what could be called indulgence under the circumstances, Spike used his left hand to wipe the water, blood, and..other things, off his face. As he did this, he continued to swish the battle-axe he wielded with his right hand in a practiced, circular arch, successfully dropping the three demons nearest him. It didn't matter though; another thirty were there to take up the "slack".
Spike's mind began to slacken as his body's natural reflexes took over. His demon side nearly howled with delight at being let loose to rampage and rip as much flesh as it could reach, and, unlike Angel's demon, his didn't care that it wasn't human. Duck, slash, jab, jump, spin, kick, punch, and repeat as bloody needed.
The last he had seen of the others, Angel had been making his way up the wall of the darkened alley in an attempt to slay the dragon. Fat chance he had at that. Spike knew it was only a matter of time before he witnessed Angel careening through the sky screaming for Spike to "quit playing around with the little demons and take care of the fire-breathing menace." Yea, like taking on a thousand demons single-handedly wasn't enough. Oh well, the poof hadn't begged for his help yet. Might as well make use of his time on the ground while he had it. Of course, there was always the possibility that Angel was already dust on the stormy breeze, as it were tonight.
But Spike didn't have the concentration at the moment to fathom what losing Angel would mean to him, so he avoided thinking about it.
He avoided thinking about Charlie as well. The idiot was mortally wounded and still insisted on fighting the good fight. Oh how the Angels would weep tonight! Spike might have been an idealist, but even he knew Gunn was gone, or as good as dead anyway.
Illyria was the only one he could think about without any censoring. She was in her element. Ripping heads off the "pathetic, brittle, excuses for demons," as she liked to call them. Last he saw of her, she'd been clearing a nice little path through them on her way to the giant, whom Spike had discovered upon second glance that it appeared to be a Cyclops of some sorts. At least, that's what he'd deduced in the millisecond he'd spent to check where Illyria was. He grinned at the red carpet treatment Illyria was getting. So what if it was a little gooey?
A sudden blow to his shoulder brought his attention painfully back to where it should have been. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hilt of a sword sticking out. He grinned. Now he had two weapons.
After the excruciating experience of ripping the sword out of his chest, Spike hurled himself even further into the thick of the battle.
The trick was to conserve your motions, only go for killing thrusts and to not get trapped. The last was the hardest, but what would any apocalypse be without a good challenge?
A sudden scream made Spike glance up. Sure enough, there flew Angel through the air. The dragon, having unseated Peaches, appeared to be trying to hurry up the after-battle party by cooking up some barbecue.
Spike resigned himself and knocking back his current assailants, flipped over the lot of them. Using the momentary confusion, he sprung onto a nearby fire escape and hurried up to the building rooftop. Seconds later, he was himself sailing through the air- on a direct collision course with the dragon's scaly black back.
"OOOF!" The dragon was just as sodding hard as it looked. Frantically reaching for anything he could use to keep himself from falling off, Spike began laughing maniacally. This was just like that time he'd been to Australia. The brumby he'd been attempting to show off on had decided that it wanted to pursue a career as a bronc right when he'd been in front of Dru. But that was neither here nor there as Spike found a razor blade of what might be called the dragon's mane to grip. It hurt like hell and made his bloodied hand even bloodier, but it did the trick. He was really riding a dragon!
His excitement was short-lived however as he realized that he still had the job of slaying the beast. And not to mention making it back to the ground without breaking his spine, a daunting task considering how far down the ground looked from where he was sitting.
Giving his standard who gives a- shrug, Spike raised the heavy demon sword high and brought it down over the scaly beast's heart girth. What he hoped was a little to the left.
Something struck true as the dragon gave a terrified shriek and began to plummet; it's wings and legs thrashing wildly about.
Spike steeled himself and about twenty feet from the alley's concrete floor, jumped ship.
The impact didn't really hurt at all. Of course, it helped that there were thousands of demons milling about, waiting for someone to tear to shreds, to break his fall. Fortunately, they were too busy admiring the fallen dragon to pay him much attention. Not one to be ignored, he resumed his earlier task of fighting off the hordes. Behind him, he could hear the moaning wails of the dragon.
This continued for a few minutes until all the mixed demons Spike had been picking off fled in fear.
Confused, but optimistically relieved, Spike panted, "THAT'S RIGHT! RECKON YOU WON'T BE MESSING WITH SPIKE AGAIN MATES!!" Turning around to share the good news with his remaining teammates, assuming some had survived besides the cold Goddess, Spike met the glowing amber eyes of one seriously brassed off dragon.
"Right, guess you're not dead." Spike began backpedaling. "Let's see what we can do abou- AHH!!" The dragon was obviously very pissed at nearly being slain, and it took great pleasure in biting him, right in the leg!
Spike felt its hundreds of razor sharp canines close around his right thigh; the bite went down all the way to his bone. Stars danced behind his eye sockets as he struggled to keep conscious.
He'd always knew he'd go down fighting, but the thing was, he'd never planned to go down. Being dead, or deader than usual anyway -after the amulet incident in Sunnyhell- had made him look at what he really wanted in his unlife. And as much as he wanted Buffy's love, he wanted something else more. He wanted to be a hero. He wanted to fight the good fight, as bloody pathetic as it sounded. Being with Angel, loath as he was to admit it, had given him back a sense of purpose. Being the Slayer's right hand man, or stalker, depending on the day of the week, he'd forgotten a part of himself. A part he hadn't known he'd ever been missing. And that part of him wanted to live right now.
His axe still firmly in hand, Spike let loose a blood-choked scream as he blindly swung in the dragon's direction. Nothing happened at first, but a few seconds later, the dragon released its grip on what was left of his leg and fell back. Without the creature supporting him, Spike too hit the ground. He snapped his head around to see what the beast was up to and there, breathing hard, saturated in blood, (most of which was his own) and demon guts, stood Gunn.
He was hacking away at the dragon using the sword Spike had lodged in its heart. Spike saw the beast raise its head in a final act of violence, and tried to get up to aid the lawyer, but it was too late, the dragon's last bite hit home and Charlie was severed across his abdomen. The knife wound the Senator's vamps had inflicted was now truly a gruesome sight.
The dragon shrunk away, too overcome by its own mortal wounds to inflict anymore. Charlie however stumbled over to Spike and fell next to the vampire.
Gunn gave a sluggish grin and nudged the sword over to Spike. In a deathly quiet voice he uttered, "I know you won't let that go in vain." He hacked up some blood and gasped for breath. "Give em' hell for me."
Spike didn't really know what to say, so instead, he nodded solemnly and awkwardly patted Gunn on his shoulder, the one that wasn't mutilated. Using his other bleeding hand, he gripped the sword's hilt. A tear dropped to the ground and mixed with the rainwater and demon guts.
Gunn died a second later.
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Illyria was disappointed. The demons the Wolf, Ram and Hart had sent were extremely brittle. They broke like splinters and annoyed her with their festering numbers. No matter though. She was a God. An Old One. The armies of hell would crumble beneath her wrath.
Never the less, their ignorance forced them to foolishly persist in a vain attempt to stop her. It might have even amused her. But there could be no amusement this night. Wesley had died.
Her guide in this disgusting, unfamiliar new world, was gone. Dead. She begrudgingly acknowledged that his passing brought discomfort to her. The Winifred Burkle memories that existed somewhere in her subconscious told her that it was sorrow she was experiencing. For his passing. A mortal's passing.
Something was most assuredly wrong. Illyria did not feel sorrow. She did not regret. The enigma of human emotions and their range to overwrought her senses so completely was threatening to madden her. Being in this tiny shell, encompassed in this tiny world, co-existing alongside mere mortals with nothing but tiny, insignificant thoughts was going to be her undoing.
And worst of all, she was beginning to not care that she did feel.
But in the meanwhile, snapping the spinal chords of these half-breed, dim-witted demons was most enjoyable. The violence was far less complicated than the other things.
A strong gust of wind overhead made Illyria's icy blue eyes glance up. The dragon was terrorizing her half-breed companion. She would endeavor to assist him, providing she disposed of the large one-eyed demon blocking her path to where the reptilian flying lizard had crashed. Just beyond the enormous fifteen-foot hulk of the creature Illyria could glimpse the white haired one writhing in agony before the dragon. She would quicken her assault.
The Cyclops growled as Illyria confidently stomped up to it. Balling her fist, she punched it hard on the patella. The reaction was immediate. The giant kicked her, hard.
Illyria flew back into the wall of one of the alley's adjourning buildings. Not winded, but slightly infuriated, the former God gathered herself and charged the creature, jumping at the last moment and clocking it soundly in the face with a resounding right hook.
Now it was the Cyclops's turn to reel. It gave a whimper and held its broken nose. This only made Illyria go in faster. She ducked under its trunk like legs and roundhouse kicked the back of the giant's knees, one after the other until the creature finally gave and fell to a kneel. Once in this position, Illyria began pummeling anything she could get her leather-clad fists on.
Sensing its end was near, the Cyclops gave a horrendous screech that called what seemed the entire demon army to its aid. Unable to deal with the sheer over-whelming numbers, Illyria was successfully pinned.
The idea of fleeing the scene and getting herself into a better position never occurred to her. She knew herself to be infallible.
It was this that had her being beaten senseless the second time in as many days, and although these creatures were no where near as powerful as Hamilton, they made up for power in sheer numbers.
Just when she thought her fragile shell would finally crack under the blows, the lesser demons shied away. She looked up out of swollen eyes to see that the Cyclops was once again on its feet and seeking retribution.
Illyria slowly got to her feet and wiped the blood from the corner of her blue-stained lips. To never die…
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And bugger all if Spike was going to let Gunn's noble sacrifice go in vain. Screw that. The Senior Partners just made their biggest mistake yet.
With a rush of vengeance fueled adrenaline, Spike jumped up onto his relatively uninjured left leg and charged back into the fray. His right leg was still on, but it was a mutilated mess, practically unusable.
For two glorious minutes, Spike fought as he had never fought. The demons even gave him a little breathing room he was so ferocious. But the inevitable was well, inevitable. Spike was failing. His vampire body could only take so much. And he hadn't had blood since before he'd gone to that poetry slam. Course, he'd had lots of alcohol. That didn't seem to be very effective at the moment however.
In fact, maybe he was still a little drunk, or maybe delirious from exhaustion. Yea, that had to be it, because, even as the demon hordes surrounded him and he prepared to finally meet his fate, arrows began sailing through the air, miraculously hitting all the demons surrounding him.
The blackness enclosing around his mind in a welcoming fog, the last image he saw was that of dark brown hair and a self-righteous smirk.
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Faith had to give it to the vamp, he had guts. Course they were everywhere, but points for trying.
After directing her little battalion of eager beaver battle-tested slayers to shoot down all the uglies around Spike, Faith picked up the unconscious vampire and dragged him to the nearest wall where she propped him up. Damn, he looked beat. Still, better than being dead. Which is what she assumed he had been all of five minutes ago.
When her hundred or so slayers had fought through the demon's line up to the carcass of the dragon, she'd been surprised to see Spike's familiar bleached head, fighting for what appeared to be his last couple of punches. Well, surprised wasn't really the right word. Shocked so bad she'd nearly peed in her pants was more like it.
Standing up, she surveyed the scene. Her slayers were doing good. Besides numbers and…fuck, was that a Cyclops? Yea… Well, besides that, the great W&H army didn't seem too tough. Even ol' Wood was pickin them off with no prob.
Further on down the alley, Faith could see Buffy and her group of slayers taking care of business just as effectively. Looks like Sir Broodsalot and his trusted Knight, Sir Bleachedbrain had done a good share of the work. She wondered where the rest of the Fang Gang were?
The blue chic givin as good as she got on the one-eyed mega freak looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't remember at the sec. Wesley was no where to be seen, and Gunn was…no…that couldn't be him not twenty feet from her.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she battled her way through the demons over to where the slain dragon lay.
"GUNN!!" She fell to her knees and checked for a pulse she knew wouldn't be there. It looked like he'd died from the massive gash in his stomach, but with all the injuries he was covered in, it was hard to tell. Faith dropped his lifeless wrist and turned around to find something to kill.
Wouldn't be difficult, it was a busy night.
A few minutes later, Vi dropped in and put her back to Faith so the two could talk as they fought.
"Buffy wanted to know how your group was fairing? Ours is just about done. Willow's on damage control."
"We're cool Vi. Just about finished here. The only serious nasty left is that big one wailing on the blue-uh, whatever she is." Faith twisted a demons neck and not breaking stride, moved to the next. "Tell Buffy to get her group over here so we can take care of Mr. Summers."
"Buffy's married?!" Vi screeched as she wielded her sword.
"Wha-Oh! No, I was uh," Faith ducked under the swing of a Shirago demon, "referring to that x-men dude. You know, the one they called Cyclops?"
Vi didn't say anything for a second. Faith worried she might have bitten it, so she turned around. Vi was still fighting away, but she was laughing!
"What the hell is so funny?"
"You're starting to sound like Andrew!" Before Faith could retaliate, the English slayer wisely retreated and said, "You all going to be alright? I'm going to go back and report to Buffy."
"Five by Five. But breathe one word of this conversation and you'll regret it."
"Yea right!" Vi gleefully threw over her shoulder as she dashed off down the alley to where the blonde slayer's crew was fighting.
Faith shook her head. Oh, Vi was going down for sure. No way she ratted on Faith and got away with it.
A shout from Rona brought Faith running. "What's wrong!?" Faith asked, frantically looking around for the cause of the girl's yell.
Her eyes settled on Wood, who was ok. She gave a sigh of relief and tried to focus on what Rona was saying. As far as she could tell, something about 'gone'.
Seeing that Faith couldn't hear her over the din of the battle, Rona pointed to the wall. Faith understood then, Spike was gone.
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When Spike came to, he saw a truly wonderful sight. Hundreds of young women, slayers, his hazy mind corrected him, were fighting back the demon army. They appeared to be winning!
Struggling to a standing position, using the wall for support, Spike's eyes sought out the Old One. She was being pummeled be the Cyclops. About done too.
Making up his mind, Spike grabbed the sword his unconscious fingers had clung to, and limped off toward Blue. Couldn't just let the lil Shiva bite the bullet now. Not after losing Charlie and Wes.
His limp was severe, but he found the pain had lessened since everything had become numb. He even picked off a few stray demons enroute to Illyria, although, killing them hadn't been near as effortless as he would have liked.
Almost to them, a hand clasped around his shoulder, yanking him back. He would have gutted the creature, but as his bleary vision focused, he found himself looking into familiar Doe eyes he'd never thought he'd see again.
"Thanks for the rescue luv, but I need to save the blue bint, she's part of the team and not fairing so well at the moment. Care to help? Maybe call over a few of your little charges and see if they could lend a sword as well?"
Faith nodded. She put her fingers to her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. A few dozen pimply-faced slayers came running over like loyal pups.
"Take down the Cyclops!" They stood there for a second, as if trying to process her words. Faith glared. "NOW!" That got their attention. They scattered and sprinted toward the hulking figure as if the flames of hell licked at their heels.
Spike spared a moment to arch an eyebrow at her. "Nice to see you haven't let the power get to you."
Faith grinned. "Wait till you see corrupted Buffy."
Spike gulped. That wasn't exactly the most comforting thing she could have said at the moment. Ignoring the thoughts of Buffy that immediately began running rampant through his mind, he headed towards his destination once again, new resolve making his movements come smoother as he saw the destruction the giant had inflicted.
Illyria was a barely conscious bloody pulp. Even her nifty little leather suit was ripped, and blood was leaking out of where glimpses of pale white skin could be seen.
The Slayers were doing a right good number on the Cyclops though. Their tag team effect seemed to be working. Spike and Faith sealed the deal on the giant when they managed to each take out a leg and bring the mammoth down. Once down, Faith used her battle sword to stab it in the eye. Spike breathed a sigh. That, was that.
He hobbled over to Illyria and crumbled down beside her. She made no movement, but Spike could see through her swollen eyelids that she was aware of his presence.
"You alright Blue?" Spike said. He would have tried to comfort her, but she was a little touchy about being touched. Go figure.
Her head slowly turned to him. Her blood caked blue lips cracked open and she whispered, "I require no assistance. Leave me be." Even beaten, she remained as snobby as ever.
Spike did what he always did though, he ignored her. "Sorry Blue, not getting off that easy." He struggled up to his feet and with a grunt, hefted her up into his arms. She drew a quick breath, either in surprise or to argue, he couldn't tell and then lay still against his chest. He could tell the pain she was feeling was immense. She probably had a few broken ribs in conjunction with a concussion or two. Not to mention, there was no way she's let him touch her, much less carry her unless she was near dying.
Spike slowly limped off the scene, leaving the Slayers and Faith to finish off the last couple hundred demons. Hovering up above the alley, he could see Red casting her mojo on any demons crazy enough to come into her vision. The apocalypse was as good as over. Mission bloody accomplished.
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It felt as though he were running a marathon. He couldn't remember a time he'd been more tired or sore, but still, he kept limping onward, carrying the prone figure of Illyria. His destination was the Hyperion. It wasn't even that far away, considering most of the battle had been to the alley just a bit north of the old hotel, but the process of safely weaving in and out of demons and the slayers fighting them had been tedious. But, Angel had told them before the big mission assignments that that was where survivors would meet, assuming it was still there.
Finally walking through the doors of the dilapidated hotel, Spike found a couch and without much ceremony, he deposited Blue. She remained motionless. He looked at her worriedly for a few seconds before glancing around the rest of the old lobby.
To his shock, there was Angel, sitting collapsed on an old red armchair. He appeared to be almost as out of it as Illyria.
Spike limped over to his grandsire and dropped heavily into the chair opposite Angel's. He let loose a ragged sigh of relief. It felt sooo good to sit.
For a second though, he felt a twinge of remorse at leaving the young slayers, not to mention Faith, Willow and of course Buffy, to deal with the last of the battle, but as he was right now, he would only get in their way.
Angel's head slowly came up when he noticed Spike's presence. He was covered in cuts and had several gashes on his chest and legs. His nastiest injury however, appeared to be his right arm. It had a deep cut that went almost the whole way through halfway up his forearm. It reminded Spike that his right leg wasn't much better off. He gave a grimace as he couldn't help but look down at it. Yep, buggered good.
"Gunn dead?" Angel's voice was as tired as they both felt.
"Yea. But he died doing what neither of us could. He up and slayed the dragon. The crazy git."
Angel gave a choked sob and swallowed back the tears. He'd be more damned than he already was if he was going to cry in front of Spike. "Everyone's dead. Because of me. I never should have let them join me in this. It was suicide." He couldn't help it now, a tear slipped down his cheek. He turned his head away from his grandchilde and continued in an unsteady voice, "Cordelia, Fred, Wesley, Gunn, and who knows how many of those young slayers out there tonight."
"You're right." Spike said simply. Angel's brooding tirade came to a grinding halt as his head shot up and he glared.
Spike continued though. "In a way, you did kill all those people, but you also gave them hope. You gave them something to believe in. And I think that's more valuable than wasting a hundred lives away doing something you don't. If they all were suddenly back from the grave this instant, I guarantee you that not one of them would have regretted their sacrifices. They were Warriors all."
Angel looked at Spike and thought it over. Finally, he gave a sigh and breathed, "Yea."
"Broodings not going to help."
"Shut up Spike."
"There's my favorite little blood-sucking fiend." Spike paused. A thought just occurred to him. "Or not. After the big battle, wasn't one of us supposed to Shunshu up or some rubbish?"
"I signed it away to gain the Black Thorn's trust. If you didn't become human, then perhaps the prophecy was fake to begin with, or maybe it was only meant for me."
"Not being arrogant there, are we?"
"Look Spike, I'm just telling you what could have happened. It's been a long night, a long week, a long year. So just lay off, will you?" Angel let his head drop back against the chair.
Spike swallowed his remarks and lay back as well. Finally, after several minutes of complete silence, Spike blurted, "You really gave up the Shanshu, just like that?"
"Yea."
"What happened to you back there anyway?"
With a sigh, Angel muttered, "I killed some demons, got thrown from a dragon, busted some internal organs, killed some more demons, got my arm almost bitten off and got rescued by Buffy and about two hundred other Slayers. What about you?"
"The same. More of less. How the hell did she know to come?"
A voice from the entranceway cheerfully said, "She probably got a tip off about a possible end-of-the-world, and seeing as how that's her favorite kind of party, she probably decided to bring some friends and bail you boys out just like she normally does."
At the sound of Buffy's voice, both vampires immediately sat up. They would have sprung to their feet, but both were too exhausted.
There in the doorway of the Hyperion stood Buffy Summers in all her Slayer gloryness. She sported a few fashionable nicks and bruises, but nothing near as serious as Angel's arm or Spike's leg. Spike thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful.
But of course, he was panicked inside even as a wide grin erupted painfully across his swollen face.
Buffy was here! He was here! He and Buffy were here!
Ok, so maybe panic was an understatement. But ever since coming back from the amulet, Spike had dreamed of this moment. Every time he slept, and even sometimes when he didn't, he fanaticized about how their reunion would go. He'd of course sweep her off her feet and kiss her soundly right in front of Angel, and she'd look deeply into his eyes with love and cry about how much she'd missed him. And she'd tell him how she just couldn't move on and that he was the one. The one she wanted. The one that she loved.
But, this wasn't a dream. This was the cold, harsh world of reality. A world where kittens were gambled in demon poker.
Finally breaking the silence, Angel softly greeted, "Hey."
Buffy walked toward them and sat down on the worn out magenta couch parallel to the chairs. She looked at Angel and gave a small smile. "Hey yourself." Her features darkened as she went on. "I'm not too thrilled about you throwing this apocalypse and not calling me. I had to hear it from Giles who got a vague account of what was coming from a phone call from Wesley of all people." Both vampires flinched at the utterance of their lost comrade. Angel interrupted.
"Wesley's dead."
Buffy looked surprised at this. "I didn't know. I'm sorry Angel. I know he's changed a lot." Buffy looked sympathetically at the Broodster for a second before turning to Spike. A flame Spike knew all too well suddenly materialized in her hazel eyes. He was in for it now.
"How dare you not tell me you were back!" The passion in her face spoke volumes of the anger and hurt she was feeling. "Did it ever occur to you that I might want to know?" Her steely edge softened a little. "That I might care?"
Spike could barely look her in the eye as he mumbled, "I was a little tied up." When she didn't say anything, he rolled his eyes and gave a growl of frustration as he continued, "I came back incorporeal, and when I finally did have my body back, I almost got on a boat to see you, but I… just couldn't." He leaned back against the big chair once more. "I wanted you to have a life. And I wanted your last memory of me to be from that day."
She got up from the couch and perched herself on the arm of his chair. His exhausted senses came back to life as he inhaled her special scent and lost himself in the green of her eyes.
Then she slapped him.
"THAT WASN'T BLOODY CALLED FOR!" He yelled as he put his hand to his throbbing cheek.
"Yea. Well neither was being a dummy." Then she did a complete 180 and gave him a hug. It scared him so bad that he nearly fell off the chair. Buffy and he had never hugged before. It was a strange sensation. But by the time she pulled away, he decided that he liked it.
Buffy held him at arm's length and with a watery smile whispered, "I'm glad you're ok though. Just promise me you'll never do something so stupid again."
Angel decided now was a good time to break up their quiet moment. "You shouldn't ask the impossible Buffy."
"Don't worry Angel, I haven't forgotten about you." She put her hand to Spike's cheek for a second and then went over to Angel's chair. Spike sighed. Angel was such a jealous ponce.
Buffy gave Angel a hug as well and then pulled away and asked, "So, you gonna fill me in on what's been happening?"
"We joined-
"Er-herm." Angel cast Spike an annoyed look.
"I joined Wolfram&Hart. I knew we had to be on the inside to have any kind of chance to take them out. Finally, we were presented with access to their constituents on Earth, the Circle of the Black Thorn. What's I guess by now yesterday, we assassinated them. Wesley died on his mission. I guess he called Giles right before he left on it. He probably wanted a second front to have some idea of what was going on when the inevitable happened."
Buffy's eyes narrowed at that. "Inevitable?! Wait, don't tell me. You all die in some heroic senseless fashion." By now, Buffy was close to screaming. "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this earlier? We could have gotten here yesterday and none of your people would have had to die!"
"It wasn't your fight to fight."
Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. But she didn't want to argue with him anymore so she asked, "So is all the Black Thorn dead? Did Wesley get a chance to kill his guy before he went?"
Angel and Spike shared a look. Oh shit! They'd never asked Illyria if Wesley's target had been eliminated. Spike replied, "Blue over there told us Wes died." He gestured to the still form of the Old One. "I'll ask her first thing when she comes to."
Buffy seemed to notice the demon for the first time. "What is she?"
Angel beat Spike to this one. "She was the God-King of the old demons locked away in the Deeper Well. Her followers somehow got her out and she showed up in our lab where my scientist, Fred-
Spike interrupted, "A damn fine woman and the sweetest girl I've ever had the pleasure to meet-
"Was infected by Illyria and died," Angel finished forlornly. Buffy gave him another hug and glanced at Spike.
"It sounds like she was a very special person. I think Willow's mentioned her." Buffy stood up from Angel's chair. "Why is this demon still here then?"
Spike looked up at her. "Because she's on the team." Buffy looked perplexed.
"Why is that? Wouldn't she be more interested in regaining control of the world or something?"
"She tried that as soon as she got back pet." Spike looked over at Blue and a sad smile came. "She found her army reduced to dust thousands of years ago. She's all alone now, in a world she doesn't understand, trapped in a body she hates and doomed to spend all of eternity in."
Angel continued in a quiet voice, "Wesley had loved Fred, her passing hit him the hardest I think, but for some reason, he and Illyria somewhat bonded. I think it was the fact that Wes wasn't ready to let the last part of Fred- her body, and even some of her memories- go. So he served as Illyria's guide in understanding this world. She doesn't know what human emotions are, but I think she's learning. I think she might even be grieving for him."
Spike nodded in agreement. Buffy seemed appeased by this answer and sat back down on the couch.
"So, after Willow, Faith and the Slayers finish up, which I think should be any minute now, what's the game plan? I mean," She looked at Spike, a smirk playing on her lips as she sing-songed, "Where do we go from here?" Spike laughed. Angel felt out of the loop.
"What's so funny?"
"Oh nothing. Just reminiscin' about somethin." Spike chuckled.
Buffy added, "You would have hated it. But seriously, what's next? Is this Wolfram&Hat thing out of business?"
"Wolfram and Hart Buffy." Angel corrected. Giving a sigh, he proceeded, "They're still out there. Existing in some higher plane somewhere, but this was their army. With it gone, I think we're in the clear, at least for a while."
"Ok, good. So W&H is done. What are you two going to do now?"
Spike remained silent. He knew what he wanted to do, but it'd probably be best if Angel told Buffy. Angel seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he said, "I think we're going to-
"DAD!" A young man, Conner, if Spike's memory served, stood breathless in the doorway. There was a frantic look in his eyes and a thick battle sword stained red in his hand.
He spotted Angel and ran over, relief rolling off of him in waves. Angel stood to greet him and they embraced, albeit awkwardly.
"I knew you had some kind of big death planned tonight, what with you visiting me and all." Conner mumbled into Angel's torn Armani jacket as the two continued to hug.
Finally pulling away, Angel tried to explain. "I didn't want you to get hurt Conner. I lov-
"Aren't you going to tell him how this wasn't his fight?" Buffy interrupted. Her feelings were carefully masked behind her sarcasm. Spike knew she had been thrown for a loop.
Angel, at the moment, wasn't as good at hiding his panic. He nervously introduced, "Oh, uh…sorry. Conner, this is Buffy Summers, the Slayer. Or, to be more correct I guess she's now just one of the slayers, but she's the main one. Buffy, this is Conner, he's my son."
Buffy didn't say anything for almost an entire minute. When she finally spoke, it was in a slow, careful voice. "Your son?" Angel nodded. Conner looked at his father and then at Buffy.
"You two used to be involved right?" They both shot him a glare. He raised his hands in defense while Spike just leaned back in his armchair to enjoy the show. Conner continued, a nervous smile on his face, "Ok, dumb question. Sorry. But hey, Miss Summers, or uh, can I call you Buffy?" Buffy gave a single nod. "Right, Buffy. Well, the thing is, I was born into this world in very extreme circumstances and kinda grew up fast. So Dad, uh, Angel here, wasn't hiding anything from you."
Angel almost beamed at his son. Spike just about choked on his mirth and Buffy looked as though she were about to go catatonic. Just when they were all getting a little worried about her unblinkingness, she turned to Angel and in disbelief said, "Is this like a Dawn thing or something? Because vampires cannot have children. It's impossible."
"Who's D-
"Be quiet Conner. Look Buffy, this isn't easy for me to say, so I'm just going to say it. Darla somehow came back, as a human. Drusilla re-vamped her and long story short, we shared a night. I'm not sure how it was possible, but Darla gave birth to Conner nine months later and gave him to us. She then staked herself."
Buffy finally blinked. "Huh?"
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Willow floated through the air about thirty feet above the alley floor. Most of the Slayers were already attending to their wounded. Those that weren't too bad off were on their way to the airport with Vi. Giles had decided that it would be more cost effective to try and take care of them at the Council headquarters instead of the LA General. Of course, the most severe cases couldn't be avoided, and Willow predicted that probably about twenty of their girls were going to be in the Los Angeles hospital.
At the moment, Willow was making sure none of the demons had gotten away. That, and she just liked to fly. The sensation of her medium-length red hair billowing behind her, magical energy crackling all around the air molecules she was manipulating, and the wind on her face, it was great fun.
She was also pleased with how the battle had transgressed. They hadn't lost too many, only forty-seven at her last count. Out of the near four hundred that they had brought, this wasn't too bad. And, none of Willow's favorite Slayers had bought it. She knew it was selfish to think like that, but it was the truth. If Kennedy, or Buffy, or even Faith had died, she would have gone ballistic. Ok, well maybe not with Faith so much.
Satisfied that the battle was officially over, Willow floated gracefully down to the concrete. Kennedy was there to greet her and they shared a hug and welcoming kiss. Kennedy was…such a comfort to Willow. Ever since Tara's death, she'd thought she'd never again be able to love. Being with Kennedy assured Willow that life would go on and hope was never out of reach.
"Where should we go right now Will?"
"Well, Buffy probably wants to stay with Angel for a little while, so I'm going to hang here. I think Vi already took the not so badly injured to the airport already. Rona, Lee and the older girls are organizing the injured to LA General."
"Where is Buffy?"
"She's at the Hotel just up the street. That's Angel's by the way. Have you seen where Faith went off to?"
"I think I saw her and Wood celebrating." Kennedy raised a suggestive eyebrow and a saucy smirk came to her pouting lips.
"Sorry baby, I think we should get situated at the hotel before all that. You know Faith always likes to jump the gun." Kennedy's face dropped, but she nodded.
They made their way southward. It was difficult walking over all the dead demons, and their guts were ruining her shoes. She could have flown her and Kennedy to the Hotel, but she knew better. Gone were the days when she used magic freely. The new, all-powerful Wiccan Goddess she had become used magic as a special gift and only when she absolutely had to.
This didn't mean that she didn't still love wielding it, or that she didn't still get an electrifying charge every time the power zinged through her body. Far from that. But she did exercise responsibility. Vast shiploads of responsibility.
They came upon an engrossed Faith and Wood. The two were making out like Christmas had come early. Not that that thought made Willow all horny. Maybe if it was Chanukah, she always liked a good menorah.
Faith saw the two approach and broke off from Wood. "Hey Will. How's it crackin?" Wood turned around as well and brandished a wide grin.
Willow gave a sheepish smile. "Hi guys! Good party huh?" She felt only slightly awkward at their pda. Kennedy just beamed at the two. Willow always suspected that Kennedy had a thing for Faith, but it was probably more of a role model thing.
"Yea. Told you we should have brought the dip." Wood and her disentangled themselves and joined Willow and Kennedy.
Kennedy giggled, "Uh-huh. And what flavor dip would have gone with demon guts?"
Wood leaned toward Kennedy conspiratorially and loudly whispered, "Don't give her ideas. Next thing you know, she'll be serving me Shirago with French Onion. Last week, I think she gave me frozen Criad demon brains for dinner."
Faith whacked him playfully in the back of the head. "You bum! You should be grateful I made you something at all. And it was hamburger helper."
They all laughed. The euphoria of an averted apocalypse was contagious.
Walking through the door of the Hyperion, the four were met by an intense conversation.
Willow distinctly heard Angel say to Buffy, "Conner is my son." That couldn't be right? Willow turned to Faith. Faith gave an off-hand shrug and plopped down on the couch behind the disbelieving blonde Slayer. Buffy shook her head and turned to sit down beside Faith. Wood sat down gingerly on the opposite side of Faith.
Kennedy picked up a smaller sofa a little way away and sat it down near the others. Her and Willow took up residence on it and looked up at the only ones still standing, Angel, and what appeared to be his son. Weird.
Finally, Angel gestured for Conner to take his seat and began, "Thanks for coming. We were just…catching up."
"A painful process, I'm sure." Faith interrupted. Angel spared her a brief look and went on.
"Wolfram&Hart are finished." He paused. Willow thought he might have been expecting some kind of applause or excitement at this, but his statement was met only by silence. Not even Spike said anything. Holy Goddess! Spike! Wasn't he supposed to be dead? Er…deader?
She did a double take. Yep. No one could impersonate Spike that well. She'd have to ask him about his resurrection later. Angel speechifying now.
"…and all of you are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you want at the Hotel. The rooms are in serious need of renovating, but we've got plenty of them."
Willow saw that Spike was about to add something, but a figure beyond Angel caught his attention and he closed his mouth and slowly rose to his feet.
Willow's eyes followed his line of vision and she gasped- a beautiful woman, who looked somewhat like Fred, was standing there, swaying on her feet. Her long blue and dark brown hair along with the ripped leather suit and electrifying blue eyes gave her an exotic look.
The strange woman regarded them all indifferently for a moment before Spike rushed up to her side.
"You ought ta sit down Blue. You're still a bit wobbly."
Willow noticed that although his demeanor expressed the deepest concern, he reframed from supporting her. Buffy seemed to notice their interaction as well as she said, "Illyria is it?" Angel nodded his head. "Maybe you should go up to a room and lie down, you're not looking so good."
Illyria looked past Spike and her cold eyes settled on Buffy. "You will not tell me what to do. I shall go to, lie down, because I wish to." Buffy looked affronted at the woman's coolness, but Angel shook his head so she dropped it.
Illyria turned back to Spike and commanded, "You will accompany me Spike. This shell requires assistance."
Spike raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she didn't even wait for him to argue. She made her way slowly to the stairs, and Willow saw that she was trying her best to hide a limp. It was obvious she was in a lot of pain. Spike seemed to realize this too as he gave a mock salute to everyone before following her. She allowed him to put his arm around her waist to half-support, half-carry her up the flight of stairs. Spike called back over his shoulder when they were almost out of view, "I'll be down in a second. See if you can locate that first-aid kit in the meantime Peaches."
Everyone in the room turned to Angel, expecting him to growl at Spike's insolence, but to their surprise, the older vampire just frowned slightly and shouted, "Alright," as he walked off in the direction of what might have been the front desk.
When all three of them, Spike, Illyria and Angel were out of earshot, Willow asked Buffy, "Who was that?" Kennedy shot her a jealous glare but then looked to Buffy as well for an answer. Willow could tell that Kennedy was just as taken with the odd woman as she.
"Illyria apparently." Buffy said flatly. Willow saw Kennedy wasn't the only jealous one. Buffy continued, "Angel and Spike were just telling me about her when Conner here showed up." She gestured to the young man. Conner gave a shy wave to everyone.
Willow interrupted. "Angel's son? How is that even possible?" Conner was about to answer when Buffy cut him off.
With a shrug she said. "I'm not sure. He sorta explained it, but it was kinda fuzzy. Anyway, Illyria is supposedly some King of the old demons trapped in the body of one of Angel's researchers."
"Fred?" Willow knew even as she asked that she was right.
"Yea. You knew her didn't you?" Buffy asked in a gentler voice. Willow nodded, water coming to her eyes. Kennedy put an arm around her. "I'm sorry Will. I think Angel said that when Illyria infected her body, she died."
Willow let a tear fall and nodded gravely. Fred had seemed like a very sweet girl. She didn't deserve to die.
"How did Wes take the news?" Faith asked from beside Buffy. Her tone claimed indifference, but Willow could see the concern evident in her eyes.
Buffy sighed. "Angel said that he took it hard, but now he's dead too. He died yesterday." Willow and Buffy hadn't gotten a chance to really get to know the new and improved Wesley, but the news of his death still came as a blow to them. Faith seemed to take it a lot harder though. She looked away and didn't say anything.
Wood put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she ignored it.
Everyone sat there silent for a moment before Willow asked, "What do you want to do Buffy? Are we going to stay here for a while?"
Wood added, "There seems to be plenty of demonic activity to go around. Cleveland was getting a little dried up."
Faith broke off her staring at the wall. "Yea B. Lay us the plan. Giles doesn't exactly need our help in London. He's got Xander, and…Andrew I guess, doing the watcher thing. It might be nice for you and Will to have a change of scenery."
"Actually," Willow started, "I haven't been in London so much. More in the Astral Plane district." Faith arched an eyebrow. "Uh, in South America, if you wanna get techy. But you're right."
Buffy nodded her head. "Yea, a change of scenery would be of the good, but what about Dawn? And Immy?" Willow groaned. Not him again!
"Buffy, if you ask me, which, I guess you didn't, but I'm gonna say it anyway, the Immortal is a loser. Why are you even with him?"
"He's nice Will. He doesn't want anything from me and I have fun when I'm with him. We've been over this. He even helped out with the expenses of flying several hundred girls-
"Er-hem."
"Oh right, sorry Wood. Several hundred girls and one guy halfway around the world. I think that qualifies him as a potential in the non-loser category. Oh, and not to mention he's totally hot!" A mildly goofy grin sprung up on Buffy's face. Willow just shook her head. Her friend was in for heartache. According to Willow's calculations in the Buffy boyfriend ongoing saga, the Immortal was due to break her heart in about two weeks.
"The Immortal?" Faith asked incredulously. "Not another vampire B! I thought you would have up and learned your lesson with Angel, but then you and Spike, and well…"
"You're one to talk Faith, you couldn't keep your hands off Angel and the moment I left you alone with Spike, I found the two of you looking very cozy sitting on his bed." Wood looked alarmed at this, but waited for Faith to reply.
And she didn't disappoint. "First off, Angel and I have been keeping it strictly platonic, and Spike…well, you can't blame a girl for lookin. But with you, you seem to search out the vamps that meet your profile. What is it, 'Perky Slayer seeking older vampire. Must be hot, powerful, and skirting the edge of good and evil."
Buffy looked mad for a second before she burst out laughing. "That..pretty much..sums it up."
Faith laughed too. "So B, at least you can admit you have a problem. Everyone always tells me that's the first step to recovery."
Buffy put her hands up in defense. "Hey! No recovery here. I'm livin happily recovery free. Plus, I've tried the alternative, and, no offence Wood-
"None taken."
-But I'm perfectly happy being with soulfully, or in some specific cases, unsouled, vampires. Men are just too complicated.
Everyone snorted at that. Yea, Willow thought sarcastically, relationships with vampires, or monsters in general wasn't complicated. Not a bit.
"What's so funny?" Angel inquired as he sat down in Spike's vacated seat. He had a small, dusty bag with the medical insignia on it.
Faith grinned evilly. "Nothing. Buffy was just admitting she had a problem. We were about to take her through the twel-
"Twelve days of Christmas. I have a problem with Christmas." Buffy interjected, shooting Faith a dirty look and then turning to gaze sweetly at a bewildered Angel.
Angel looked to Willow in confusion. Willow mouthed, "Buffy and boyfriends." Angel nodded and shook his head. Better not to ask.
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Illyria proclaimed that the highest room would be suitable enough for her temporary recuperation. Spike might have pointed out that it was difficult for him, in his weakened condition, with his right leg barely on, to support her all the way up to the Presidential suite, but she seemed intent on it, and it would be worth it to kick Angel out of his old room.
After finally stumbling into the spacious room, Spike collapsed. Illyria, relying on his support, fell with him and they remained sprawled there on the plush carpet for a few seconds before Spike said, "I don't think I can move anymore."
"Perhaps I should have requested the assistance of someone less damaged."
"Nonsense luv." Spike cracked a wicked grin and turned his face towards her. "You know I'm the only one you'd like a roll on the carpet with."
"I do not roll."
"Fine Blue. No rolling for you. Got it. Can you get up?"
"I seem to be incapable. My…body, is stricken with fatigue and several of my bones are cracked."
"So then…I guess we'll just lie here." Spike looked around the large room from his position on the floor. Suddenly he remembered the conversation. "Oh yea, in all the excitement, and the intensive stair climbing experience, I forgot to ask if you offed that bloke that Wes was assigned to."
"I shattered his skull into a thousand pieces. He was caught unaware as I was in the shell's persona."
"Why were you wearin Fred's skin luv? Did you arrive at that place before Wes died?"
"I…do not wish to discuss it." Illyria turned her head away. Spike was left staring at the blue curls in her hair. They were quite fetching.
"I'm sorry you lost Wesley," Spike finally said. His tone was gentle and he hoped she wouldn't deny her feelings about the late Watcher. If she could begin to open up, it would make her life, and everyone's really, so much easier.
"I…" She seemed incapable of saying the next words. Finally, with great effort, Illyria said, "I am sorry he died as well. I will miss him."
"See pet, that wasn't so bad was it?"
"I am not your pet half-breed."
"Oh, but it's ok for me to be yours?"
"That's different."
"Sure it is. I get it. You just like to be on top Little Shiva." Spike gave her his classic sexy grin and smirked.
Illyria stared at him blankly before saying, "You are referring to intercourse?"
Spike eyes widened in amusement and embarrassment before he coughed a bit and stuttering, "Uh, yea. I was just kiddin Blue. Nothin better to do while we're both stranded on the floor."
"I attempted to learn more of this human aspect with Wesley in the Burkle persona, but he declined." She said this in her usual indifference, but Spike could almost detect a hint of hurt in her icy eyes. Although it might have been anger. It was hard to tell with Blue.
"Yea well, he would decline." Illyria looked affronted at this. Spike continued before she could get really upset. "You see Blue, Wesley loved the person in the body you took over."
"Fred."
"That's right. And when you went and took over that pretty little body, you killed Fred."
"But her memories still exist."
"Yes, but she doesn't. And the part that you wiped out is the part Wesley was in love with."
"He did not love her body?"
"Er…yes, and no. He liked her body. He loved her."
Illyria sighed. "I do not understand this. Human train of thought is random and their actions are even more sporadic. They love and hate for trivial reasons and follow meaningless pursuits on whim. Without Wesley, who was serving as my guide, I am lost." Illyria paused here. Spike showed her the patience born from a century of caring for an insane vampiress and waited for her to continue. Finally, looking straight up at the ceiling, Illyria said, "You are my pet Spike. You will help me understand this world and its strange ways."
"Don't I get some say in this." Illyria looked at him with her standard blank stare.
"I guess not. Alright then. I accept this Bluebell. But just remember that you asked me."
"Very well."
They both laid there on their backs gazing up at the ceiling. Several minutes passed. Neither spoke, nor moved. But it wasn't uncomfortable. Turning her head to Spike, Illyria asked, "How long must we stay like this?"
"As long as it takes for them to figure out we're in need of help. That, or one of us recovers enough to get up. That should probably take a few hours, maybe even a day. But I'm sure someone will come up before then."
"Your voice betrays your confidence in their aid. You believe we will be stuck here for some time."
"Probably."
"I now wish your 'bandicoot' had not been crashed by Hamilton. It would have alleviated our wasted time."
"Don't worry Blue. I'm your guide now. I'll buy you a new play station."
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"They've sure been a while." Buffy said offhandedly.
"Maybe there's some hanky-panky goin down." Everyone stared a Faith. "Oh what?! Like all of you weren't thinking the same thing."
Angel ignored her comment. "They probably collapsed halfway there. I'll take care of it." He got up and grabbed the med kit at his feet. Buffy jumped up as well.
"I'll go with you!" Everyone shared a look. "Don't give me that guys. I'm just going to help Angel drag Spike's prone body back down here. Can't let him have all the fun." The suggestive smirks continued to be passed around. Buffy gave them all a scowl and grabbed Angel by his hand. "Let's go. I don't need to take this from you guys." Angel and her retreated up the stairs to the sound of the other's laughing.
"Do you think Spike is ok with that demon?" Buffy asked as she slowed her pace up the rickety stairs to match Angel's slowly painful ascent.
Angel gave her a strange look out the corner of his eye. "I'm sure he's just fine with Illyria. Besides Wesley, Spike was, is, the nearest to her. She resents me because she sees my role as leader undermining her superiority." Angel now turned to look at Buffy fully. "Why do you ask? You just concerned for his safety or you looking to get back with him?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "What will it take for you to stop getting jealous every time I mention Spike?"
Angel shifted his eyes forward again and said, "For your buzzard to ring."
Buffy grinned. "Not there yet. But no. I'm not looking to get back with Spike, but I do care about him."
"Like you care about me? Or like you care about the Immortal?" Buffy sighed. He just couldn't drop it.
"Like neither of you, and like both of you. You've lived forever. Don't you know by now that there are thousands of different kinds of loves and ways to show your love?"
Angel didn't expect such a mature answer. He stayed silent and just looked at her. She was indeed a woman. The Italian sun had been kind to her and he admired the contrast between her bronzed skin and her golden-blonde hair that flowed perfectly in place down to the middle of her back. How did she keep it so neat during a battle? Angel shook his head. Not important. What was important was that Buffy was no longer the post-valley girl teen that had madly fallen in love with him. She was now a beautiful, mature, battle-hardened warrior. And she would make her own decisions. He just hoped he would be a part of them.
They made the rest of the journey in silence. Angel wasn't exactly sure which room the two had gone to, but it was easy enough to follow Spike's smell. He hoped the bleached-blonde would take a bath tonight. He was pathetically easy to trace.
"The Pent House suite huh?" Buffy said as Angel stopped sniffing and stood in front of the door. Of course Spike would pick this room. Anything that was Angel's automatically attracted the younger vampire. With a severe frown marring his face, Angel prepared to barge through the door. Buffy put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Wait!" She suddenly felt foolish. In a meeker voice she implored, "Shouldn't we knock? They could be in the middle of something."
Angel nearly snorted. "You're barking up the wrong tree Buff. Illyria would just as soon kill Spike as touch him." He thought about what he just said. "Umm…but I guess she'd have to touch him to kill him. Most likely at any rate. And she does like to hit him…"
A panicky light flickered behind Buffy's hazel eyes. "SHE LIKES HITTING HIM?!" She began pacing the hallway muttering, "Not good. Not good." Angel was slightly alarmed by now as well. What kind of horror awaited them on the other side of this door?
Now with trepidation, Angel lightly rapped on the oak. A muffled reply greeted him. "It's open you ninny!"
Angel slowly turned the knob.
Buffy and he gasped sharply at the sight that greeted them. Spike and Illyria were spread eagle on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling. Spike twisted his neck to look at them. "What took you so long? We've been up here like this for a bleeding hour!"
Illyria craned her neck as well, though it seemed more robotic the way she did it. Looking straight at Buffy, Illyria stated, "Spike is my pet."
Buffy's jaw dropped. Angel's eyebrow's nearly reached his hairline and Spike brought a hand to his temple. Apparently, vampires could indeed get migraines.