Life Harsh

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DISCLAIMER: These characters and the Buffyverse do not belong to me; this is just me bringing my own (sub)text.

Summary: After the fight against the Senior Partners, Angel and Spike encounter an angel unawares.

[Author's Note: This can be read as a standalone, but was originally the first chapters of "Life Hard." This story prominently features an AU character, Spike's 'guardian angel,' and is the full, leisurely story of how a 'do-over' reality slipped past the notice of the Powers That Be. It will shed some light on what happened in the intermission after Cleveland in that tale. For your patience, gentle reader, you'll also get loads of fun Angel-Spike interaction and backstory.

I wrote this, along with "Life Hard," because Spike got no encouragement (except maybe from Giles, once in season four) during his redemption arc. I figured, if anyone ever would help him, it would be women. In "Life Hard," three women give him a nudge along the way. This is the story of the only one of those women who actually had any power, and her power was sharply constrained.

I cut these chapters because I worried that Spike's avenging angel was far too Mary Sue – both Spike and Angel like her, Gunn likes her, and even Buffy sorta likes her sometimes. Big, blinking warning sign.

Then some amazing readers generously took the time to say they liked the other two women who helped Spike and that they were interested in reading the cut chapters. This is just one reason I'm so grateful to you, the readers who keep the Buffyverse torch burning bright twenty years in. The best decision I made all last year was to (deep breath) finally share my super-long "Life Hard" story. So, I've cut, rewritten, and beaten most of the suspicious behavior out of the character to post this prequel.

Just some warnings: the prologue features the three main characters as I feel they were at the end of broadcast canon in BtVS and Ats: hardened, not given to self-examination, and definitely bleaker. The main pairing here is eventually B/A, not B/S as in the rest of the work.]

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No Heroes

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[Chapter Note: Using dual names violates the K.I.S.S. principle (Keep It Simple, Stupid), but in most instances in the Buffyverse when someone leaves their humanity, a new name marks the transition – e.g., Aud/Anyanka and Liam/Angelus. Here, Halfrek was once Cicely, and Sarah was once Emma. And I gave Spike his human surname years before 'Pratt' was established.

Vengeance demons and avenging angels are beyond the limits of linear time and single realities, and this opening chapter skips around their very wide world. We start with two of those beings having coffee at a lovely place and time, then go to the reality that was most likely to occur after the close of AtS (canon here is what was broadcast; the story was written before the comics). There is a peek into a dimension where angels get their rest, before heading back to that bleak, most-likely reality. After this chapter ends, the story will solidly be in one place, where an angel will try to create a new, happier reality.]

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Paris

September 1923

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"I think it was a convergence," Halfrek said, a tiny cup of strong coffee poised halfway to her lips.

"A… convergence?" her companion asked, as the waiter at the outdoor café presented a cup of coffee for her, too. "Merci."

"Um-hm." Halfrek nodded in agreement with herself, dark curls bouncing. "A convergence of mystical energy that affected everyone there. I don't know exactly which party or gathering it was, since it was always the same faces every time, it seemed, but I think it was the one where Richard read William's poetry aloud."

The other woman's voice was cool. "At Daphne's. She swore it would be the last time she let Richard set foot in her house." She took a sip from her own cup before continuing. "I remember that one."

Halfrek raised her eyebrows. "Yes, you would, wouldn't you? You died of typhoid fever not long after that."

"Scarlet," her companion corrected her.

"Really, Sarah," Halfrek said, "no need to be so stiff with me." She leaned across the small table to the other woman. "We've known each other since we were human."

"We were hardly good friends then," Sarah said, "and now we're on opposite..." Then she sighed a bit. "I'm sorry. You're right, of course." Her voice softened. "If I had known what your father was doing to you… well, I don't know exactly what I would have done. Gotten you out of there, somehow."

Halfrek's smile froze when she realized the apology was not meant for being snippy, but for having this knowledge. The veins beneath her skin became more prominent. She could almost hear that voice again, always low, always whispering, telling her things in the darkness of her small room. "There's no other man good enough for you, my darling Cecily, no man who's not beneath you. No, you're Daddy's good girl. Just Daddy's." And then his attention had turned to her younger sisters, and he never seemed to look at her after that, never came to her –

Her skin became flawless again. The being she was sharing coffee with at this charming café was more powerful than she was; it was the only thing that kept her from lashing out. She wasn't Cecily Underwood anymore. And her negligent father was very dead. She unconsciously touched the pendant at her neck for reassurance.

"Thank you, Emm – er, Sarah." Halfrek managed this with a fair amount of grace. "I know you would have tried. You ever were the crusader type. It was a different era, though." Their eyes met for an instant, and they shared a poignant smile, remembering.

"You were saying," Sarah offered, lifting her cup, "a convergence?"

"Oh!" Halfrek gave a silvery laugh, glad to change the topic. "Yes. I mean, how else can you explain three of us, out of – what? thirty people? – no longer being mortal? The odds against it are tremendous, unless there was a convergence."

Sarah frowned, and her cup rattled slightly against the saucer. "Three of us? Someone else chose the active afterlife?"

Halfrek raised a delicate eyebrow and put her hand to her throat once again. "You didn't know about William?"

"William?" she echoed. "Pippa's cousin William or the other one, William Gale?"

"Pippa's cousin. How could you not have known?" Halfrek asked, gesturing widely. "I mean, your people have all the knowledge."

"Halfrek, I'm a celestial child, the equivalent of a babe in nappies," Sarah said, with some exasperation. "The things I don't know, that I still can't comprehend are –"

"There's that humility your kind are so fond of."

"Well… yes. But never mind that. What did William choose to do?"

"Choose… I doubt that choice had anything to do with it. I saw him just after the turn of the century, and I've been keeping up with his career for my own amusement. He's a vampire now, and quite a strong one."

"Vam – William's a vampire?"

"Well, yes. Order of Aurelius. They're quite vicious, as you know." Halfrek's eyes slid over her companion. As Emma, she had mousy brown hair and unfashionable brown eyes hidden behind spectacles, a human easy to overlook if one was unaware of her wealth. Now she had the striking, colorless diamond eyes of the pure. As to anything else… even Halfrek couldn't quite pin down the particulars of hair or mouth or shape. Sometimes the hands seemed to be holding a blazing sword instead of a cup. In fact, she wasn't sure how she recognized her little chum. Perhaps it was only because the avenging angel allowed it. She wondered what their waiter saw sitting in the opposite chair.

Sarah turned the sharp gaze away, not seeing the lovely French women who hurried past the café wearing the daring, comfortable fashions the two immortal beings had been discussing approvingly only minutes ago. William Withorn-Allgood had been the first cousin of her best friend in life, Philippa. He was one of the kindest men of her living acquaintance, determined to see the good in every situation. And since he was also rather timid, how had he ever encountered a vampire?

"He killed a Slayer during the Boxer Rebellion, if you can imagine." Halfrek nattered on, beginning to feel nervous at her companion's odd silence. "Quite the coup for a vampire that young. Who would have thought, at the time, when he was all about taking care of his mother and writing –"

A hand shot out to grasp the vengeance demon's slim wrist, interrupting the flow of words. Power in the steel grip thrummed just below the human level of hearing. "William was made a vampire? You're sure?"

Halfrek nodded, her curls bouncing again as she verified this.

"But," Sarah said, relinquishing her grip on the other being, "but he was a good man."

"I suppose he was," Halfrek agreed, confused and fearful. She couldn't help herself; she rubbed her wrist. "He said as much when he declared himself to me…" Her voice trailed off when those diamond eyes found hers again, sharp, glittering like sunlight on water. "Did… did you have a tendre for William?" There was a bite of malicious satisfaction in her tone.

"He was a good man," Sarah repeated. She stood abruptly. "I must be leaving. It was lovely to see you, Halfrek. Please do reconsider the path you've chosen." The being reached out and, in addition to the money left on the table, touched their waiter between the shoulderblades. He heard one of the many church bells in the city give a solemn 'dong,' and his choice of whether to take his day's earnings to the gaming tables became quite clear. His daughters needed new winter coats much more than he needed another losing night.

"We'll have to get together again," Halfrek called as dimensional reality snapped like a rubber band into the space her companion had just vacated.

But they never did.

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Rome

May 2004

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"Buffy!" Willow was calling the name even before she finished materializing.

Uncurling from the Immortal's lap, Buffy sat up on the edge of the leather couch. They were in the VIP lounge of a dance club, and no one else could possibly have found her here. "Wil? What is it?" Worry flashed through the hazel eyes, along with a tiny spark of anticipation.

Focusing on her to the exclusion of the beautiful, fearful people backing off to the edges of the room, Willow held out her hand, obviously intending for Buffy to take hold. "Battle, big one, in L.A.," she said, after an odd moment of hesitation.

Buffy grasped her hand, going pale. "Angel?"

"Buffy," the Immortal said impatiently. "What is this about?"

She saw Willow nod even as her attention went back to the handsome, older man. Things had been different, somehow, since a week ago, when Buffy had slain some demons that had been trying to harm him. She still loved him, but there was less passion and more routine as she fit herself into his life. "I'm sorry, Andros. I have to leave."

He met her eyes. "I wish you would stay."

A frown settled on her brow. "I'm the Slayer," Buffy said gently. "I have to."

"There are other slayers."

She stared at him, then simply shook her head and turned to Willow. "Let's go."

Then they were nowhere at all as they teleported. As powerful as she was, not even Willow could diminish time and space to nothing. For now, they were in a bubble of calm as everything blurred past them. The redhead turned sorrowful eyes to her friend. "Buffy… you know how the Coven monitors magic? This was already happening when they contacted me. Most of it has already happened." Despite finishing the sentence, it seemed as though she trailed off.

"What happened?" It was a demand, but her voice was faint and full of dread.

Willow closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength. She squeezed her best friend's hand. "Angel is gone, Buffy. I'm sorry."

"How?" It was all she could manage through numb lips.

Despite already spinning powerful magicks, Willow pulled more from within herself and showed the Slayer the information the Coven had given her. Against the side of the bubble, slightly curved and distorted around the edges, they saw the image of a darkened alleyway and mounds of bodies, the bodies of demons, piled everywhere. In one corner crouched a dark shape that Buffy had learned to distinguish from shadows years ago, holding a human body in his arms.

Angel was sobbing, his head thrown back as he held Charles Gunn's dead form against his chest. "Will," he said, speaking to the empty sky. "Oh, God, Will."

Another shadow moved behind him, a huge, malevolent shape. It was, Buffy saw with a start, a dragon, quite possibly the dragon that had soared into her world the night she leapt from a tower and died. Mortally wounded and lurching to one side, it still advanced on the oblivious vampire with stealth and quickness. Lifting its head for the last time, it pulled fire from deep within its belly, spewing it over the dark-haired man as it died. Then there was nothing, no vampire, no human, and the dragon collapsed into the empty space, falling lifelessly with an oddly graceful roll of its neck.

"I'm so sorry."

She heard Willow's words from a long distance away, despite the fact that they were side-by-side. Angel was dead; she watched as the fire died away around the dragon's body, just one more corpse in the alley. Her first love was gone, really gone, no coming back this time.

It wasn't as bad as the first time.

It wasn't as bad as the other one.

"That's why the Coven contacted me," Willow said, "because he was calling for me."

"No," she said slowly. "He wasn't." Then her eyes widened. "Willow," her voice urgent with a flash of Slayer's intuition, "is there more? From earlier?"

"I-I guess." Looking at the Slayer curiously, Willow inclined her head slightly at the images, which began to flow in reverse, like a video rewinding. She had expected Buffy to take it much harder.

The battle was a blur, not focused on any particular combatant. They saw Angel pulling aside dead demons, digging for Gunn's body, saw him inflict the killing blow to the dragon's heart. They watched as Gunn, his front already dark with blood, crumpled under a slash of claws from a lumbering beast that hardly seemed to be able to function under earth's physical laws. Angel again, moving through the hordes with a long sword, fighting alongside a woman with long blue hair, a woman who was a better warrior than any slayer. Then Buffy saw what she had not dared believe she would see: a flash of platinum.

"There!"

Willow nodded her head, and the evidence of magic captured by the Coven began to unreel for them again, this time showing in the mayhem a wounded figure fighting with two knives, all black except for the contrast of pale skin and improbably blond hair.

"Oh my God," Willow breathed. "It can't be."

Three demons fell beneath his blades, and Spike laid his head back and roared a challenge. It was answered by more than a dozen screaming creatures that resembled extremely large spider monkeys. Human features changed into fierce demon face so he could use fangs as well as blades. Spike went down beneath them, and after a while, there was a small movement as the demons fell into a space that was no longer occupied by anything more substantial than dust. Two of the demons rose from the fight, and another dragged itself painfully away.

"Will!" Angel's voice roared, and he moved into the image, the sword felling the simian demons who remained. "No! Will! Where are you, boy?"

Willow's eyes widened. "He was calling for Spike, for William the Bl–" Her voice died, the image disappeared, and she turned her incredulous gaze to Buffy. "Did you know?"

The Slayer shook her head, tears falling now.

It took another minute to arrive at the alley behind the Hyperion, and the carnage was greater than the limited view the Coven had supplied. Dumbfounded, the two Sunnydale natives kept their hands clasped together. This was worse than anything they had seen, and they had seen so much.

Oddest of all was the silence. "They're all dead," Willow said, looking everywhere to see if this could really be true. "They killed every one of these… things."

"Such a champion," the Slayer agreed, smiling despite the tears that still streamed down her face. "Both of them. Champions." She turned away from Willow suddenly, interposing her slender body between the witch and the one other moving creature there, a being the Slayer had not sensed until it was behind them.

"You fought alongside Angel," Buffy said, addressing the woman with blue hair politely, even as her hands came halfway up in a defensive posture.

The woman tilted her head to one side, facing away from them. "I felt rage and wished to expend this emotion on the armies of my enemies, on the minions of those responsible for Wesley's death."

"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce?" Willow asked, her face falling into sorrowful lines once again. "Wesley, too?"

"They are all gone." It was as if the blue-haired woman was not answering the question, just stating a fact to herself. Then she turned toward the two other women, as though registering them for the first time.

Willow gasped. "Fred?"

"I am Illyria, Battle-God. This shell was called Fred," she agreed coldly. "Shall I use it to kill you, as I have killed so many tonight?"

Buffy was the one who replied. "I am the Slayer," she said, equally cold, "and friend to those you fought alongside. Wesley was my Watcher, a long time ago. Angel… I loved Angel. A-and I met Charles Gunn last summer. Fred, too." She licked her lips. "And there was someone else…."

"The white-haired one," Illyria supplied. "He was worthy to be my pet."

Buffy bristled. "Spike was no one's pet."

The alien voice seemed to soften. "It is a high honor I bestow. He fought far beyond what limits his physical form imposed on him."

"How…" Willow shook her head and tried again, unable for a moment to get her mind around anything except the fact that Angel had called her for help a couple of months ago, and it had been something about Fred. But Angel had been working for the wrong side. Hadn't he? She made herself focus. "How could Spike be here?"

"Angel was the ruler," Illyria shrugged, "and he had killed all his family, as is proper, except for one son, who was loyal."

"No," Willow protested, "Spike wasn't Angel's son. I mean, Angel was, like, his grandfather," she admitted, "but they hated each other."

Illyria shrugged again. "The white-haired one never let Angel go into battle alone. He was the better warrior, the ruler's champion. I do not know the love or hate, only that it was his role."

Buffy closed her eyes at that. "What happened here?" She made herself look around the alley once again, where she would never find her dead.

"The one named Angel provoked a fight with those who styled themselves the Senior Partners." She tilted her head to the side, a gesture that sharply reminded Buffy of Spike. "They were consuming him slowly, as shrikes pick at carrion flesh. He chose open battle, befitting a warrior-king."

Angel, a warrior-king. God, Buffy thought through a haze of pain, what had happened in the year since she had seen Angel, grinning at her across the Preacher's cloven body? "Were you his champion, too?" Her voice was harsher than she intended.

Illyria turned her face so she could stare fully at the Slayer. "I remained in his kingdom because I was… attached to Wesley." The blue visage and fathomless eyes went to the nearby buildings. "Angel's enemies were mine." She looked back. "Angel is no more, but I find that his memory is still with me, as is my Wesley's." She lowered her head, her gaze on Willow. "And I will avenge my loss."

With a single, drawn-out moan, Willow crumpled to her knees. A blur of heat rippled between the blue creature and the red-haired witch. Half-crouching to support her, Buffy growled at Illyria, "Stop it! Whatever you're doing, stop it!"

"It is sufficient," Illyria said. Turning on her heel, she disappeared into a sudden flare of light.

"Willow?" Buffy asked. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"She took my magicks," Willow slurred, her face pale. "All of them." She looked up at the face that had defined the idea of 'hero' for her since a singular day in high school when a pretty blond girl had chosen her over Cordelia Chase. "Oh, God, Buffy. She took everything."

⸹

Sarah closed the book and reshelved it absently in the ether that obligingly became a shelf for a moment. The most likely outcome for the vampire that had taken William's life was an oddly noble one, and the circumstances led to a rebalancing of powers that should not be loose in the reality that had seen her own birth. A god was removed, an overly powerful witch was constrained, and souled vampires were stricken from the equation; a tidy solution that could only have been conceived by the Powers That Be. She shook her head and went to seek audience with the General.

"She was right," Ibrahim said, frowning after she told him about the meeting with Halfrek. "There was a convergence. I'm not sure I'm comfortable that a baby vengeance demon figured that out."

"Halfrek's only a demon, sir. All they can do is model themselves after us and, well, destroy things." Sarah also frowned as she regarded her superior. "What is a vengeance demon except a pale copy of an avenging angel? It's why I try to keep up with her dealings."

"Don't take the balance of power for granted, child. I appreciate your confidence in the supremacy of good over evil, but it's all in the struggle, you know." He sighed. "However, the demon Halfrek was correct about the convergence. Each of the thirty-four young people at that party was dead within two years."

"Including William," Sarah said, reiterating her main point. Persistence was a valued trait among angels.

"Yes, and he saw to the deaths of three of the others."

"Not William," she disagreed fiercely. "The demon that took possession of his body. I humbly ask again, Ibrahim, let me go engender its death, to avenge his."

Ibrahim gave her a shrewd look. Here, at a dimensional nexus, where Time lay heavily over even mystical beings, it was rare to find one who wasn't slow and solemn. "You have personal feelings about this matter?"

"No. Send another to avenge his loss of free will."

"You do have personal feelings," Ibrahim sighed. He slid the same book she had been reading from a sudden shelf, though, and began refreshing his knowledge of this one case. The bookshelf faded back into the unfocused whiteness around them as he read.

"He was a good man," Sarah said, persistence beginning to sound like stubbornness. "He deserves to be at peace, not have this evil creature performing foul deeds wearing his mortal coil, sullying his name."

"Well," Ibrahim said slowly, "here's the thing: a lot of the human remains in this vampire. Destroying it would not avenge William Withorn-Allgood; it would merely destroy him." He looked at the young being with a good deal of kindness, even as he said the words.

She didn't understand. "Do you mean that William… his soul is trapped with the demon who killed him?"

"No, child. Nor was his soul at rest. It was – and is – between dimensions."

"There's… between?" Sarah's head turned to the side, as if she were resisting. "Dimensions crowd in to fill all that is probable or possible. There cannot be a no-place."

Ibrahim gave her a patient look. "In time, as you're able to understand metaphysical law better, you'll learn about improbability, which allows 'between.' For now, just take it on faith." He waited until she gave a faint smile at the workplace pun. "Let me illustrate how this works, at least in William's case: he killed his mother shortly after his death."

"No," Sarah whispered, shocked at this. "He wouldn't… he was devoted to her. You must see it isn't William anymore." Her clear eyes shone with tears. "Oh, Ibrahim, she was a fine soul! Such a–"

"Listen," Ibrahim commanded, holding up one hand. Power radiated out from him for a moment. Contrite, Sarah fell quiet. "The vampire was eager to tear her flesh, drink the maternal blood. But it was William who drained her, killed her, then sired her as a vampire, the son fathering the mother." He shook his head a little at the oddity.

"But that's… worse."

"It was gentle, not vicious. His intention was to save her, Sarah. He was saving her from consumption. He'd just learned vampires don't harbor illness and didn't want her to be sick any longer."

The young being stared at him for a long time. He touched her mind lightly with his as she pondered the new knowledge and the horrifically flawed logic, flashing on her memories of the human William and the unbelievable fact of a demon trying to 'save' a beloved human. There was nothing selfish in her interest, Ibrahim was relieved to find. 'Kind' was the word she most strongly associated with William. Her righteous anger that the human had been victimized even beyond his murder was her primary motivation, as it should be. Reassured, he waited until she formed a question, continuing his perusal of the slim volume.

It was a question of faith, of course. "Does this mean that… demons can be saved, too?"

Ibrahim gave her a small, sad smile. "The terrible answer is yes, Sarah. It is not impossible."

"But that's not terrible," she contradicted him. "That's wonderful!" She looked ready to take up her sword immediately and coerce demons to repent.

He forced himself not to smile at her youthful energies, not to be patronizing. "It is wonderful," he agreed, "but the cost is terrible. Even we have limited resources. Our mission is very specific: avenge the loss of free will. When the Creator, in infinite wisdom, allowed free will to souled beings, the Creator's own power diminished. I command but one army of avenging angels, there are a hundredfold more of guardian angels, even the Archangels still take the field… but all of us together cannot correct every evil. The price of free will, as you know.

"No vampire has ever been saved. This one might have been, though of course the soul will be safe." He met her eyes squarely. "There's one other with a soul and, with so many possible paths, we're still waiting to see which way that cat will jump. Not one vampire, in all the history of your dimension of origin. And vampires are human-demon hybrids, among the weakest, the least demon-like.

"If I allowed my army to focus on saving demons, then there would be billions of souled beings who do not get the help, the justice they need. It's a work of art to save a demon, Sarah, but it is a greater joy when a being of free will chooses good. And, frankly, it's easier."

She gave him a small smile. "I chose the good, and gave up free will. I submit to your judgment, sir. Use me where you find need."

Ibrahim put his palm on her head for a moment. "Child, you are a delight as well as a sharp sword of heaven. However, it is in the flow of the Creator's still considerable will that you learned of this from the demon Halfrek. The Powers That Be have not kept balance and have roughly restored it in this instance. Their methods were cruder than usual, stealing free will by allowing a portal to open for some overdemons who covet that reality, something that must be corrected. Perhaps it's time..." Trailing off, he glanced down at his book again, a tiny frown crossing his face.

"Time?" Sarah raised a rather human eyebrow at the word, standing as they did on a nexus of all points of interdimensional possibility. Many of her kind were uneasy here. She liked it, though, the foggy whiteness a comfort after a short human life spent near the Thames.

He didn't answer her directly. "Some humans tap their potential during life, others only after death."

"Like Cecily and me?"

"Well, like you. Technically, Cecily never died. She transformed into the demon Halfrek upon accepting D'Hoffryn's offer and allowing her soul to be changed into her power center." Ibrahim's answer trailed away as he read a few more lines. "You were a souled being who reached for the divine at the moment of death."

"Is that what William did?"

Ibrahim frowned, wishing that he could explain to her so that she could understand. "It's much more complicated, but if he had a normal transition, perhaps he would have chosen the same sort of active afterlife as you. But choice was taken from him. A demon was forced into his body through his sire's blood, and his soul had to leave. The… imprint it left, though, was quite strong, and it has made him into a singular vampire. For his soul to go to the spaces between dimensions, to simply wait and be, to delay heaven, he must have had great strength of character."

Sarah smiled. "I always thought he must, to keep with his poetry in the face of such adversity."

Ibrahim gave her another sharp look and this time probed the memories of her unconsciousness. The human William was there, along with dozens of other long-gone humans, like dreams kept in glass cages. While Emma had never had anything other than polite conversation with William, he had made a mark on her soul. The young angel was raw, not even really understanding why a soul, so fragile, was still the strongest power on most planes of existence. It wasn't the vengeance she had asked for, but it was a way to gently nudge things so that the balance of things would never become so skewed.

"I will assign this to you," he said abruptly. Ibrahim returned the book to a convenient bookshelf that promptly disappeared. "However, I must warn you that it's something… different."

"In what way?"

"In many ways, but there are only three which matter: the first is that, in this case, we are compelled to act, to try, though we may not succeed. It may be a waste of our energies, and there are other things in the balance that will go begging because of that. The second is, you must not destroy the demon. You will not be avenging, only serving the flow of the Creator's will."

She nodded solemnly. "As I gladly do in all things. And the third?"

"You will be under the purview of the Powers That Be."

The silence stretched out. "Ibrahim… they are scarcely more than I am. All they can do is balance good and evil, give a space for people to exercise free will. They're like the old Roman gods, or… squabbling children."

"They also serve the Creator," he chastised, then sighed. "They are very much like children, and I'm glad I am not responsible for teaching them. Anyway, you lived your entire existence as human with them watching out for…" He trailed off, uncertain.

"Earth."

"Yes, thank you."

She wanted to make sure that she understood. "You mean that I will no longer be under your protection?"

"I do." His voice was solemn, and he gave her back her thoughts. "Behind enemy lines, exactly so." His diamond-bright eyes met hers. "Know that you will always return here, child. The Powers That Be certainly have no control over that."

"They have little enough control, in any case," Sarah said sarcastically, but in a low tone that allowed him to overlook her impudence.

"Be still," he commanded, and placed his hand over her eyes. "Go to any likely reality where the vampire survives that battle. Work for fairness, seek the good, give love in greater measure than you hope to receive." Before he finished the words, the being Sarah began to diminish in mass, one that Ibrahim lost sight of when it became smaller than the nucleus of a helium atom. He felt the slight pop as she left the nexus.

She would return, but not for a long time, even on an interdimensional pivot point. He never considered retrieving the book to see the outcome. Fussing with details was a rookie mistake, one which the current Powers That Be had yet to grow out of. He had, though, and they would, too. Ibrahim sighed and stretched his aura, shoulders, and neck. He was even beginning to think that avenging was pointless, and he knew from experience that he was going to be kicked upstairs for that, once this latest epiphany truly took hold.

After all, he had once Been a Power.

⸹

"But," Buffy protested again, even though she could see Giles was beginning to be impatient with her, "there has to be some way to find out."

"Buffy," he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead, "there's no one left to ask. The building that housed the law firm is rubble; the people are gone from every branch across the world. I don't know what Angel was up to, only that either he turned on his colleagues at Wolfram and Hart, or that I was wrong all along about him joining their side. I don't know who or what the blue woman was who resembled Winifred Burkle. I don't know why Wesley was found dead in the same house as a notorious and equally dead demon warlock. I especially don't know how Spike could have been there at the last battle, apparently alive." He looked very put out. "Andrew knew he was in Los Angeles, from when we sent him out here to retrieve the insane girl, the slayer we overlooked in the asylum, and he never let on, the little–" He cut himself short, afraid he would blurt out that Spike had specifically asked the boy not to tell her. She was unhappy enough already. Who knew Andrew could keep a secret?

Buffy didn't nod, just slumped a little more where she sat on the edge of the hotel bed. His heart went out to her. Giles had persuaded the Coven to send him and Xander to Los Angeles, as well as to remove the thousands of dead demons. Video footage had gotten out, though, and he had Council operatives scrambling to come up with a horror movie script and an equally good story about filming it behind the Hyperion. Damage control was going to be a monumental task, and the Council had authorized a small fortune to buy the film from eyewitnesses. Willow, in shock at losing her powers, was in a room across the hall. Xander, thank God, was an absolute brick and was taking care of her.

Which meant Buffy's emotional needs fell to him. He sighed. "I'm sorry, my dear. Between Willow and the loss of Angel, I know you must be quite–"

"If he was alive," Buffy interrupted, her thoughts bubbling into speech, "he would have gotten in touch. Right?"

Giles frowned, surprised that her thoughts were on Spike. "Why would he?"

"Why?" The Slayer sputtered a little. "Why? Because we're his family!"

"We are?" He looked honestly perplexed. "Family? I wouldn't use that…" The Watcher put his glasses back on. "There's really no reason he would have contacted us."

"No reason?" There was a snarl in her voice that was reminiscent of the blond vampire. "He got his soul for me."

"He did," he tried, sighing, "in order to make amends for a terrible, terrible thing, if indeed there could be amends for such an act. What you and he…" Giles wished his glasses were off once more. "That had been over for a long time. It's true, he and Dawn had been close, but there was no love between them, not anymore."

"You're right," Buffy said, closing her eyes in defeat. "Not even Dawn… Xander never liked Spike much, even before he and Anya…" It was her turn to trail off. "And you tried to kill him."

"And you succeeded," Giles said, and was immediately sorry when he saw her face change. "Oh, Buffy, I truly, truly regret saying that. It has been a very trying day."

She shook her head, heedless of the tears tracking down her cheeks. "No, you're right. That amulet… I killed them both, didn't I?"

"You were doing your duty, my dear. That's all."

"My duty." Her voice was bitter. "Now I get to mourn them all over again." She rocked back on the edge of the bed, thinking of her mother as well as two singular vampires. "Grieve for my dead." Her eyes flashed with anger, as if Giles had not kept his silence. "And don't tell me not to, that they aren't worth it. If I don't grieve for them, who will?"

Closing his eyes, Giles sat down next to her and awkwardly rubbed her back. "I would never tell you not to grieve, Buffy. You've just had to so often in your life. I wish it were not so." After Spike had closed the Hellmouth, some spark inside Buffy had flickered back in existence. She began to live again because she felt the opportunity was paid for with blood. As much as he disliked the Immortal, Giles was grateful to him for bringing Buffy happiness, though that, too, seemed to be waning of late.

"I wish," she whispered, not leaning into him, "that I knew what happened."

"As do I." Giles dropped his hand, hesitated, then patted her knee. He loved her so much, but they had too much history to make expressing it an easy matter. "I fear it's just one of those things we'll never know the truth of."

⸹

Next Chapter: In the most likely reality, Spike and Angel get a ride to a hospital for Gunn after the battle behind the Hyperion.