A/N To my faithful BtVS crossover fans! Hehe, this is a newbie, I've kinda written myself into a hole in Of Kings and Slayers, and I had the idea for this story so I thought I'd post it. No extra knowledge is needed, it's all pretty clear I think. Hope you guys like it!
The aftermath; strangely desolate.
Pain, certainly physical, was dominant. It coursed through the aching, exhausted body. Minor cuts and bruises, something to be thankful for. At least, that was what she felt when she saw the blood.
Moans amplified to sound like screams hovered around her, yet not quite permeating her newly constructed reality in which this wasn't happening. The screams of the dying. Young, innocent lives being extinguished. At her expense.
Buffy shook her head, clearing her mind. It was then that she came back to herself, sitting alone at the back of the school bus, ignoring the now familiar metallic smell the Slayer had come to associate with death. It stained the regulation leather of the seats, from which the bodies of teenage girls had been removed by a deserted gas station and buried under the harsh desert sun.
Strangely desolate was very appropriate right at that moment.
On the hectic race to put as much distance between themselves and the crater of Sunnydale the bus had been packed, noisy and frenzied. Girls had been acting as medics for each other; Giles had been organizing a route, and Buffy herself found Willow prising a cell phone into her hand, Angel's number in LA already dialed. Dazed, she told her former lover the basics, and then promptly hung up, oblivious to what was going on.
The reality hadn't sunk in. Xander panicked that she was about to have another coma like she did when Dawn was taken by Glory. She threw a discarded sneaker at him.
Now, the bus was near empty save for seven people; Giles, Willow, Xander, Dawn, Andrew, Faith and Buffy.
Kennedy had been placed in charge of the potentials, no, Slayers, and had been given the responsibility of getting them to LA on the train as soon as humanly possible. Giles had told the anxious yet excited girl that they would join them there in a day or so. They needed time, he'd said vaguely. Buffy hadn't really understood, but now, as they drove on the way to Angel she was blessed with sudden clarity.
Sunnydale was gone. Her home of the last seven years, in which she'd changed beyond imagination, was no longer. She'd defeated the First Evil, an impossible task, and was no longer the Slayer, she was one of many. It was mind blowing.
Ah, here comes the emotional pain, the blonde woman thought as she glanced at the faces of her beloved friends.
Faith sat with her knees drawn up to her chin looking strikingly like an innocent child. Buffy almost snorted at the association of the word 'innocent' with Faith. Faith's back was rigid and Buffy felt her heart go out to her fellow Slayer. Robin Wood hadn't pulled through, and it had cut into Faith much more than anyone had expected, especially her. Faith was at a loss at how to handle the grief, and simply just sat, eyes not seeing, a small tear running down her tanned cheek.
Willow was dozing, her head against the window and she lazily traced the patterns on the seat infront of her formed by the moonlight. The Wicca was exhausted, understandably. The colour had left her already-pale face and she had unhealthy dark shadows under her eyes. Yet she looked calm. At peace, as if through that one major life-changing spell, all her sins had been washed away by the power of the scythe. It was almost religious.
A nerd forever, Andrew had retrieved his Dungeons and Dragons from its secret hiding place in the luggage rack and was sifting through the cards. The Slayer was weirdly thankful that he was with them; he seemed to bring naivety back to the group, naivety that had left the Scoobies many years ago. He hadn't spoken to anyone save Xander, when he'd brought the dreadful news of Anya's death. She'd died saving the little rodent, and Andrew would bare that burden always. He'd often spoken to Dawn, Buffy knew, about Jonathan, and how sometimes he believed that it should have been himself that died. If there was ever a time for this belief to resurface, it was the moment Anya had thrown herself infront of him and taken the Bringer's blade.
Oh Xander, a voice inside her cried helplessly as Buffy watched him, huddled in a corner akin to Faith, his one whole hazel eye unseeing. He hadn't grieved immediately, other things had needed attending and as always Xander had thrown himself wholeheartedly into it, pressing wadding against Robin's wounds, rocking Faith in his arms as the Principal left them, holding onto girls' hands as they floundered between life and death, taking up a shovel and digging out a mass grave for the deceased. Only afterwards in the desolate silence had he finally broken down; Willow trying to enfold him in an embrace yet him distancing himself from his longest friend, choosing instead to find solace in Andrew's account of Anya's last moments. Everyone had grieved, not only for Anya, but also for the death of something in Xander that would never come back. All would miss the blunt, curiously outspoken, beautiful, newly human ex-demon, but none as much as the man who loved her. Away from Buffy's scrutiny, only one phrase floated through the recesses of Xander's mind, 'I do Anya, I do.' And he did, always.
Giles drove steadily occasionally speaking to Dawn who sat upfront with him. Giles's demeanor was one of business. Get to safety, regroup, and decide on the future actions. Buffy didn't think he'd even begun to consider the momentous task that lay before him. Rebuilding the tattered Watcher's Council was certainly not going to be an easy feet.
Dawn, to Buffy's relief, appeared to be managing quite well despite the bloodied circumstances. She hadn't shed any tears and had willingly helped as many of the injured girls as she could, dutifully and without a fuss. Yet Buffy was sure she'd seen her sister's heart physically break when a girl died in her arms. Dawn still hadn't cried. She hadn't even cried when Willow had taken her hand and told her that Spike hadn't made it. The teenager had simply nodded shakily and absentmindedly wiped at a smudge of dirt on her cheek. No tears even for the man she held as a brother. Buffy frowned; maybe Dawn wasn't coping as well as she'd originally thought.
Oh god Spike. The Slayer's turn to cry.
Hot, fat tears rolled endlessly and unashamedly down her face.
Spike was gone. She had somehow allowed herself to love the demon that in a way symbolized the changes she had undergone in Sunnydale. Oh Spike, she mourned, but she was glad for him, glad of him.
Who are you?
You'll find out on Saturday.
What happens on Saturday?
I kill you.
Fe, fi, fo fum. I smell the blood of a nice ripe girl.
Do we really need weapons for this?
I hate you
And I'm all you've got
Bloody hell, woman! You're cutting off my circulation.
You don't have any circulation.
Well it pinches.
Honey, we have to talk about invitations. Do you want to be "William the Bloody" or, like just "Spike"? 'Cause either way it's gonna look majorly weird.
Whereas the name "Buffy" gives it that touch of classic elegance
Fine. Keep going, I cut you a break.
Oh, yeah. Okay, let me guess... you won't kill me? Wooo... the whole crowd-pleasing threats-and-swagger routine. How stunningly original. You know, I'm just passing through. Satisfied? You know, I really hope so because God knows you need some satisfaction in life besides shagging Captain Cardboard and I never really liked you anyway and ... and you have stupid hair.
You think we're dancing?
That's all we've ever done.
I love you
Oh my god.
Buffy - the other· the not-so-pleasant Buffy. Something happened to Dawn it'd destroy her. I couldn't live, her being in that much pain. I'd let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did.
I'm counting on you, Spike. To help protect her.
'Til the end of the world -- even if that happens to be tonight.
Why do you care?
I made a promise to a lady.
How long was I gone?
Hundred forty-seven days yesterday. Uh ... hundred forty-eight today. 'Cept today doesn't count, does it?
You're not a schoolgirl. You're not a shop girl. You're a creature of the darkness. Like me. Try on my world. See how good it feels.
I know I should go
But I follow you like a man possessed
There's a traitor here beneath my breast
And it hurts me more than you've ever guessed
If my heart could beat, it would break my chest
But I can see you're unimpressed
So leave me be.
We ... we kissed, you and me. All Gone With The Wind, with the rising music, and the rising ... music, and what was that, Buffy?
I'm in love with you.
You're in love with pain. Admit it. You like me ... because you enjoy getting beat down. So really, who's screwed up?
Hello! Vampire! I'm supposed to be treading on the dark side. What's your excuse?
Well, isn't this usually the part where you ... kick me in the head and run out, virtue fluttering?
That's the plan...as soon as my legs start working.
Then why won't you sleep with me again?
Because I'm not in love with you.
Like hell.
That's not why I need you here.
Is that right? Why's that then?
'Cause I'm not ready for you to not be here.
I did this for you. The soul, the changes—it's what you wanted.
When I say. 'I love you,' it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy.
I love youNo you don't, but thanks for saying it.
He died a hero, died a champion, died good. And that was enough to bring the tears. Her sobs racked her body, and punctured the stifling silence that hung over the bus. Dawn briefly looked over her shoulder at her sister, but couldn't let herself succumb to the grief as she so wanted to do, and instead kept her eyes firmly forward. Faith and Xander both flinched ever so slightly but kept their silence. Andrew looked up from his cards at Buffy, and felt his already fragile ideals crumble, even Buffy the omnipotent Slayer was buckling under the strain, so Andrew turned away, so he couldn't see her give in. Willow was asleep, the weariness too much, and Buffy's sobs became a sick lullaby. Giles felt his heart break at the sound but as always played the adult and kept focused on the task at hand, driving.
'Where are we Giles?' Dawn's small voice said into the abyss. Giles straightened his tired shoulders and managed a small, worn smile, just for her.
'Nearly at San Jose at the moment Dawn, about two hours from LA, I'm going to stop in San Jose at a Motel or something, I think everyone needs their rest.' Dawn nodded before turning her attention back to the road, her expression going from blank to confused to terrified in an instant as her eyes widened dramatically.
'Giles! Watch out!' Giles looked back at the road and swore as he tried to swerve the school bus to avoid the impending car accident, the others looking up in puzzlement at Dawn's warning, the puzzlement quickly melting into panic. Giles's efforts were thwarted, and the bus collided head on with a truck, fire erupting, and screams as Dawn and others were thrown through the windscreen and then a blinding white light.
The aftermath; inexplicably dull.
He'd never really considered death before, after all, being a member of the walking dead for over a hundred years certainly took the edge of the great mystery that was death. At around twenty-eight in a dark, dank alley, a dark-haired raven beauty had extinguished his seemingly pointless life. He couldn't really remember the senses that at the time he was sure were acute, so at the next crucial moment, no glamorous, philosophical ideas or flashbacks of his long years came to him, the only coherent thought that came to William the Bloody as he exploded into dust was 'this bloody well stings!'
And that was it.
Spike felt a bit, ok maybe a lot, resentful towards the Powers. He'd found the ultimate way to redeem himself through sacrificing himself to obliterate the hellmouth once and for all and quite rightly had expected some sort of recognition. Sure, he was well aware that there was bugger all chance he'd end up infront of some pearly-white gates with a halo to match his hair colour, but he at least expected something.
Instead, he ended up in an infinitely wide and long space that was bright white, so at least he wasn't having pokers shoved up his arse for all eternity, but there was nothing bar a white leather couch for as far as he could see. Spike sighed, and strode towards the couch, trying to be thankful that he still had a physical form and plopped down to wait for something to happen.
And boy did he wait.
After what felt like weeks (what he later found out was a few days), he was mightily bored and extremely pissed off.
'You are having a bloody laugh!' The vampire shouted at the direction of the ceiling that didn't exist. 'What is this; stick old Spikey in a box and see how long til he cracks?' He leapt up from the chair and started waving his arms around and making obscene gestures at some invisible Higher Beings. 'This is just perfect isn't it, you sodding bastards!' He continued to rant. 'After all the effort a fellow puts in to earning some sort of forgiveness and you shove him…' he paused and shrugged. 'I don't even know where I am, but I don't care! Send me somewhere you ponces! Even if I have to suffer some crappy alternate reality watching peaches in the shower or something for all eternity, do something!'
'Could you please quit it with the screaming already? My eardrums are starting to hurt.' Spike spun around, loosing all semblance of cool as he stumbled over his duster, in search of the voice.
'Cheerleader?' He asked in sheer bafflement.
'Yeah that's right Spike, it's the cheerleader,' said Cordelia Chase with a typical eye-roll as she fluffed up her hair. Appearing right out of the blinding white that was pretty much everywhere she walked towards him clad in a tight beige shirt and Diesel jeans with ridiculously high boots that made a clip-clopping noise as she moved.
'What in the bleedin hell are you doing here?' He cried out in frustration. Cordelia by this time had reached him and gave him a critical once over before wrinkling up her nose in distaste.
'No offense Spike, but you really need to think about getting a new look.' It was Spike's turn to roll his eyes at her predictable comment.
'Thanks for the fashion tips luv but that's not very helpful right this second. Now tell me what you're doing here…or what I'm doing here,' Spike thought for a second. 'Actually, where the hell is here?'
'Here is a holding zone,' she informed him lightly before making herself comfortable on the couch. Holding out her hand, a glossy celebrity magazine appeared and she eagerly began to flip through it.
'A holding zone?' Spike questioned, trying to get some straight answers. 'And what does that mean?'
'A place the Powers puts deceased champions until they've decided what to do with them, oooh oh my God, Siena Miller's spilt with Jude Law! He's been having an affair with the nanny, oh that's classy Jude, nice little peep show for the kids.'
'Cordelia,' Spike began in a tightly measured voice. 'I couldn't give a toss about who Jude Law's shagging, ok, what I want to know is why I'm in this holding zone thingy.' She didn't answer him and he sighed before pleading slightly.
'Can't I be sent somewhere?'
'Oh like a suburb of heaven?' She teased, shutting the magazine and standing up.
'Well anything would be better than this!' He said.
'Look Spike, I know this is probably really getting on your last nerves,' she replied. 'I know how bored I got when I was a Higher Power, floating around all day with nothing to do but watch Angel live TV, but the Powers aren't stupid, they do know what they're doing.' She patted him gently on the arm before her face became stern. 'So stop complaining because they've told me that they're getting mightily sick of it.'
'How long am I going to be kept here?'
She shrugged.
'Not much longer probably, they're too busy meddling with Buffy and the rest of the gang.' Spike looked at her in renewed interest.
'Buffy? What are they doing to her? Is she ok? She's not hurt or anything?'
'No she's fine,' she reassured. 'Geez what is with you and Angel, mention one little blonde slayer and its all guns a blazing,' at Spike's raised eyebrow she pouted slightly before continuing. 'But yes she's absolutely fine. An emotional wreck but physically everything's in working order.'
Spike took a moment to digest this information, and then it hit him solidly in the chest, effectively winding him; he would never see the Slayer again. He couldn't imagine that.
Cordelia looked over at him with a bemused look.
'Don't fret bub, you'll see her again.' He jumped and shot her an inquisitive look.
'How did you do that?'
'It's one of the handy perks of being a Higher Power,' she replied chirpily. Spike, starting to feel mentally exhausted with all the baffling information being thrown at him, began to massage his temples. Cordelia cocked her head to the side.
'What's wrong now?'
'I'm just a little confused is all pet,' the vampire replied through gritted teeth. What a fantastic scenario, he thought sarcastically, stuck in some god-forsaken holding zone with only the newly cryptic but still infuriatingly blunt ex-Cheerleader for company. Luckily for her, he hadn't had too much to do with her in Sunnydale during his 'evil years;' she was so irritating she was just asking to be bitten!
'Confused about what?' She asked him, generally unsure. He gave her his best intimidating stare.
'All these cryptic statements which don't make any sense. Now I'm only going to ask you one more time, why am I here? Where is Buffy? What are the Powers doing to her and the rest of them? Oh yeah and pretending I care, what are you doing here?'
'Alright fine,' she said with a sigh. 'I'll give you some straight answers.'
'Cord, honestly,' came a loud Irish voice sending Spike into a mild fit once again. 'What have I been telling you? A Higher Being holds out on the direct answers for as long as possible and doesn't give in until their charge is going insane with frustration! It's more fun that way!' Cordelia put her hands on her hips and glared at the ceiling, stamping her foot.
'Damn it Doyle!'
'Not up there luv,' Spike said quietly as a short, dark-haired man approached, wearing a disgusting green blazer and checked shirt with jeans. Cordelia turned and promptly ran over to the newcomer, smacking him hard upside the head.
'You idiot!' She cried. 'I wasn't really going to tell him anything; I was acting, and really well even if it is me saying it! You just had to go and spoil it didn't you?' The man rubbed his head.
'I don't know if that was called for,' he muttered. 'I mean, you really should show me some respect, I rank above you in the PTB stakes.'
'Oh please,' she said. 'I look at you and what do I see? A bad poly-blend.'
Even Spike couldn't resist a chuckle at the man's hurt expression. Doyle, disgruntled but curious, looked over at the bleach-blonde vampire with a small smile.
'So this is our champion then?' He started to circle Spike. 'Thought you'd be taller.' Spike sighed in exasperation.
'Fine I bloody well give up, don't tell me!' With that he flopped down onto the sofa and turned away from Cordelia and Doyle with every intent of sleeping for a century, he was excusably exhausted after all. Doyle shot Cordelia a triumphant grin.
'You see sweetheart, this is the point to devise information,' Spike sat up, all tiredness instantly gone; Doyle put a patronising arm around his female companion. 'You have so much to learn from me. Cordelia pouted and folded her arms.
'I was the one who did most of the irritating.'
'Spike, isn't it?' Doyle completely ignored her and sat down next to the vampire.'
'That's right,' he replied. 'Hey weren't you that guy who used to work for Angel?'
'We both did,' Cordelia answered wistfully.
'But we're both happily deceased now,' Doyle continued chirpily. 'Except Angel and the others don't actually know that Cordy ain't coming back.' Spike looked up at her to find that she had turned away from them and was wiping her face with a shaking hand.
'They think I'm in a coma,' she said thickly. Doyle nodded somberly and Spike frowned.
'So what are you both doing here?' He asked. 'Surely being part of Angel's band of lackeys should've paid off, sent you straight to be with the rest of the good guys.'
'Heaven isn't quite how you imagine it to be,' Doyle explained. 'After all, Buffy was in a heavenly dimension rather than a physical plane with angels and little fat boys with wings. Us being who we are, or were, people involved with the Slayer and Ensouled Vampire, we have higher purposes than simply going to a happy place with the rest of the crowd.'
'And I'm guessing I fall in to this category?'
'Sure do,' Doyle affirmed. 'But before we talk about you, we've got to talk about the rest of them, the Slayer in particular.' Spike nodded and listened eagerly for what was to become of Buffy.
'What the Wicca did was remarkable,' the Irish man began. 'Such an incredible idea that even the Powers didn't see it coming. It's definitely tipped the scales in favour of the good guys, but what to do with the original champions? The Slayer, the Watcher, the Witch, the One Who Saw, the Dark Slayer, the Key and the Nerd,' Cordelia cleared her throat and Doyle looked up in irritation.
'What?'
'Oh nothing,' she said loftily. 'Just somehow I don't think ancient prophecies about the champions including the word 'nerd.'
'How elsewould you describe that Andrew kid?'
'Good point.'
'Now no more interruptions,' Doyle ordered turning his attention back to Spike. 'The Powers can't allow them to melt away into civilian life, it's tough sure, but its just not going to happen I'm afraid.'
'So what's going to happen to them?' Asked Spike.
'They're being sent to another dimension, through the form of a car accident.' Doyle winced as the vampire predictably exploded.
'What? What the hell do you think you're doing? Sending them to another bloody world? Hasn't Buffy done enough to earn a soddin' rest? And the rest of them! They'll be grieving, they'll want a new life and you've gone and stolen it from them! Through a car accident! Bloody crazy idea if there ever was one, who's the dumbass who came up with it.'
'Me,' said a deep, penetrating voice. Spike looked to the owner of the voice and was momentarily lost for words. Infront of him stood a tall, statuesque man garbed head to toe in a golden armor making him appear so bright and divine it almost hurt to look upon him. His hair was like spun gold and cascaded down over his shoulders, far longer than was fashionable for long hair on men. But he wasn't an ordinary man; his delicate ears were pointed. His grey eyes examined Spike with a stoic expression and Spike was ashamed to admit that this strange creature intimidated him.
'Is that right?' He asked, his voice breaking ever so slightly in an attempt to recapture his usual cockiness. 'And who might you be?'
'I am Glorfindel,' he replied. 'The Balrog Slayer, and your friends and loved ones have been sent to my home.'
'And where do you come from?'
'Ladies and Gentlemen, buckle up for the ride of your life into a mystical land full of elves, dwarves, short guys, warring men, dragons, nasty smelly things called orcs, an evil but tacky ring of power and a badass Dark Lord named Sauron,' Cordelia said brightly. 'We hope you enjoy your stay in Middle Earth.'
So what did you think? Reviews definitely appreciated!