DEATH IS MY GIFT
Rating - K+
Disclaimers - Joss' toys, my playground.
Notes - Sometimes it takes 30 years to find the answers.
Spoilers - This story takes place, diverging from canon sometime in S6, after Buffy returns.
"Hmmm?"
"I said, Abbie still isn't feeling well. Her temperature's higher. We should stay."
Will sat on the bed, gazing into space, but turned around to face his wife. He threw the sports coat he still held in his hands back onto the bed where he'd been dressing and strode lithely across the hall into the pink and white room.
The room was their little girl's. They'd been meaning to redecorate a last few months ago but real life had its own plans. But it should have been redone. Abbie wasn't a little girl anymore. She'd entered 8th grade this year and was quickly turning into a young woman. Her gene pool destined her to athleticism, but her equal interest in literature and art made her parents proud. The pink rose wallpaper of the room, had long given way to endless bookshelves and countless frames proclaiming her creativity.
But now the room was dark because she said the lights made her eyes tired and hot. The father moved through the room with practiced ease and knelt at the side of the bed where Abbie lay, her forehead covered with a cool cloth. He watched as his wife removed and wrung into a bedside bowl where she dipped it, readying it for return but the girl moved and that would have to wait. She turned under four layers of quilts, and curled her body tightly, trying to warm her skin which seemed so hopelessly cold compared to her fevered core. The man knelt beside the bed, "Too many covers, punkin'." He straightened her out and he began to pull them down one by one until she was covered with only her sheet. It was the right thing to do, but it pained him to see her shiver so.
"Daddy?" Abbie asked, her teeth chattering as the cool cloth was returned to her brow.
He ran his strong hand over her thin arm. "I'm here, sweetie."
"I'm sorry," the girl croaked out, her voice dry and harsh from dehydration and heat. "You guys should go out. It's your anniversary. I'll be okay, really."
"No, baby. We want to be with you."
Abbie was too cold and too tired to argue any more. She made a face, but that was all as she fell back to sleep which was never far. Sleep, where the nightmares were.
A stifled cry came from the other side of the bed and he looked up to see his wife, her hand over her mouth, turn and walk quickly from the room. Spike's head fell to the mattress. This was hard. It had been hard ever since the doctor had diagnosed their daughter's disease…or rather, had categorized it. They were still debating on the actual name, but they all agreed that whatever it was called was not good for Abbie.
"…never seen anything like it. It's like her blood cells are, well, simply put, devouring each other. It seems to have been triggered as she entered adolescence, as her hormones are testing at extremely high levels. Now, that aside, transfusions that have been given to replace her depleted blood supply have had the adverse affect of making disease progress more rapidly. Plasma, without hemoglobin, is keeping her alive, but has not halted the disease. We fear that once it has depleted the supply of cells within her veins, it will attack the organs. She doesn't seem to have any pain, more simple fatigue, but any other illness at this time will have severe repercussions, so we suggest she remain here in the hospital so we can continue to monitor her. Now, we have some thoughts on further treatment…." A multitude of doctors had prattled on and on for nearly three hours about how Abbie was the most important thing, but Will could feel the excitement in their professional demeanor whenever they discussed his daughter, as they did often, with an air of scientific study, rather than care. They talked about whether it might be contagious, or documented in history, of how diseases and cures are being found "all the time" and not to give up hope. But the result was always the same, Abbie was going to die.
After all the talking was done, after he and his wife had held hands and shed tears, after doctors had said all they knew, Will stood up and announced that his daughter would sleep in her own bed that night. He strode out into the hallway, past the sterile rooms, past nurses kibitzing about poor wages and worse hours, past other hospital beds with other dying children, past other families huddled, waiting for the end, and into the room that Abbie had called home for the last month. She was asleep then too. He hadn't hesitated except to disconnect all the hoses, then he picked her up along with the sheets and blanket she was using and carried her out of there and took her home.
They talked about it all the way home, all that night and mostly only about it ever since. One of his favorites was always; "Will, you were right, we couldn't leave her there. Some other bacteria there might have floated in the door of her room, just as easily as here and here, in her room, is where she should be. Home with us."
"It's my fault, it has to be."
"No Will, you can't do this to yourself. It's not you. It's not."
"Bloody hell, it HAS to be. Don't you get it? It's me, my genes, my heritage that's killing our daughter."
"But…"
And he'd slammed out into the night for the first time in years.
"Daddy?" Abbie came around again briefly, whimpering.
Spike's head raised, hoping to see her beautiful blue eyes, eyes that mimicked his own, staring back at him, instead he found tears flowing from behind the girl's closed eyes.
"It's okay baby, I'm here." He stroked her hair. "Nightmares again?"
There was an almost imperceptible nod. "But different, this time. Not so scary."
"That's good, then, innit?"
"They were so sad."
Spike crawled up onto the bed, slipped his arm under the pillow and laid his head down on the bed and moved his lips to meet Abbie's ear. "Sad? Tell me all 'bout it, pet."
"It was the same girl, daddy. Same as in the other dreams. Same as the fights, but different…stronger. She was scared though this time. Scared because someone is in danger. Someone she loves. Another girl. She's up high."
"A girl with long, brown hair." Spike barely said.
"Yeah."
"Dawn."
"Is that her name?"
"Yes. That's it." He closed his eyes, remembering.
"The other girl, blonde, they're together, things flying…like from other dreams, but…animals not…men."
"Dragons."
Another nod.
"You don't have to tell me, li'l bit, I already know how this story ends."
"But…it's my…"
"Okay, yes, it's your dream."
"She jumped. Into the light…to save…the world."
When the dreams had started, Spike soon realized that they were not ordinary dreams, they were part of the disease. The dreams were not nightmares of Abbie's invention, they were a part of him, his past. And he'd listened before as he listened now, and they were chronological. They'd first begun when he woke up as a demon by Drucilla's hand. Abbie had watched, him, in her dreams, kill and kill and kill again, then she began recounting events that only the residents of Sunnydale could have known, things about Buffy. And as she progressed they shared the dreams and he relived it all. It had been 30 years since that happened, but the memory of Buffy leaping to her death that day still made him cry. Now he wiped his cheek and nodded, "She did that a lot."
"Is that the end of her story, Daddy?"
"No, pet. There's more. Do you want to hear?" The little girl nodded again. "She died, and went to heaven."
"Heaven?"
"Yes. A place of light and comfort and peace."
"Really?"
"That's what she told me, when she came back."
"She…?"
"She didn't want to." Spike took an unneeded breath and then continued. "She came back because…well, people loved her and wanted her back. But she was never happy again, not truly happy."
"Why?"
"Because she had to keep saving the world."
"Why?"
"Because there were scary people in it."
"And monsters?"
"Yes, and monsters."
"Were the monster's bad?"
"Most of them were very, very bad, but some of the monsters were good. Some of them tried very hard to be good. She helped save them too." The little girl shivered again then nodded as she rolled into her father's shoulder seeking warmth.
Spike sighed. There had to be something he could do for her. That someone could do….
"Well, she did her job and kept savin' the world. And she tried to not to miss heaven too much but she was still sad. So one day she visited one of her friends…"
"A monster…trying…to be…good…?"
"Yes, one of the monsters that tried to be good, and she asked him to help her not be so sad, but what she wanted was something he couldn't do." He listened to Abbie's light breath. "And when he said no, the girl got angry at her friend and they fought. The monster forgot that he loved her and how he was trying to be good and he did something…terrible."
"He killed her…"
Now Spike could only nod.
Abbie's voice was very small when she said, "Now she's back in heaven."
He wasn't sure he'd heard her. "What?"
"And she's happy there, Daddy."
"I hope so."
"She is. She told me so."
Spike looked at his daughter wide-eyed as she drifted back to sleep. He wanted to know who had told Abbie about heaven, but he let her sleep…or what passed for sleep. Usually, she'd only close her eyes briefly, finding no rest in dream-filled sleep. He would wait.
"Honey?" his wife's voice drifted up the stairs a short while later. "I canceled the reservations and I'm making dinner for all of us. Is there anything special you want?"
Spike ran a hand over his face and called back in as calm a voice as he could manage, "No, Beth, nothin' in particular."
"How about steak and salad?"
"'s fine, luv."
"Love you."
He couldn't share this conversation with between him and his daughter with his wife. She wouldn't understand. She didn't know half of any of his past and she certainly wouldn't understand about the dreams. After Buffy had died the last time, by his own hand, Spike had left Sunnydale for good. He'd thought briefly about going on a killing spree, about looking up Dru and some old friends and reliving the days of Prague and William the Bloody, but he realized he didn't have it in him anymore…especially since he'd been "souled".
So he took a flat across the country in New York City and just existed. He worked nights at a factory to pay the rent and to stay off the streets where he didn't want to hunt. He made few acquaintances and had fewer lovers but one or the other of them had introduced him to Beth. They'd hit it off mostly because she was willing to put up with his bad habits and she'd been unimaginative and unflinchingly dependable. They'd married when Beth realized she was pregnant, a surprise to both of them and something Spike didn't know he could even still do, but it must have been a soul thing.
Somewhere in all that he'd shared some of his past with this woman who now shared his apartment, but only as much as was necessary to keep him in blood and out of the sun. She'd been shocked, intrigued, frightened and then accepting. Once she'd moved in, they began to prepare for the baby. Spike loved everything about parenthood. He loved the little clothes, the music boxes, the fairy tales, he'd pitched in more than most dads and Beth had let him. He'd changed diapers, bandaged scrapes and his hours at the factory, still third shift, had allowed him to be home when Abbie was up, to see her first steps and hear her first word. He'd cried at both.
It was awful to miss the track meets and little league events, but Beth had been there with the video camera and Abbie's play-by-play, he was sure, was better than the real thing anyway. So he doted on his daughter and the partnership with Beth was comfortable for 13 years, then this. It was all falling apart, and it was all because of him, the man who wanted it most to hold together.
"Daddy?"
Spike started awake. Abbie was looking at him her eyes open now, her face covered with sweat.
"Daddy?" He lifted his head from her pillow in answer. Had he been asleep for minutes or hours? He'd never be quite sure. "Daddy? She's been here. She was right here with us. She says I'm supposed to come with her now. You said she was good. But I wasn't…ready yet. What should I do?"
"Who, pet? Who's been here?"
"The woman, the girl from my dreams. Buffy was here." Abbie had told him about her "vision". "No daddy, not a dream like before. She was REALLY here this time. I wasn't just seeing her, she was talking to me like a real person. She even held my hand. She was warm daddy and her eyes were so sad and her hand was so strong."
His hands were shaking. This couldn't be happening. No. He was imaging things, or Abbie's disease was causing her to do so. But the idea of Buffy being there, next to them, nearby, close enough to touch, had sent him reeling with emotions he'd thought long gone. It was unimaginable, but he wanted Abbie to make her come back.
"It was just another dream, honey. You rest now," he remanded gently as he drew himself to his feet into air where his Buffy had recently existed. He grew dizzy with the memory of her. He could hear her, see her, smell her, as the last 30 years melted away. As his head cleared, the haze of everyday life lifted as well and he stood a little taller as determination, as due a master vampire, filled his frame.
As he ran down the stairs, Beth called out from the kitchen. "How is she?" When no answer was forthcoming, the slight, red-haired woman followed the sound of his footsteps. "Dear? What's…" but all she found was an open closet door and an equally open front door where her husband had been.
He'd treated the leather every 6 months since he last wore it (God, 60 times!) so when he grabbed the duster from the closet where it lay in wait, he wasn't surprised at how it smelled or felt, but he was surprised that it fit him. Not that his frame had changed so drastically, he still carried no body fat and his muscles were well tended to. No. He was surprised at the rush of nostalgia that overcame him when he slipped his arms into the worn sleeves and pulled the collar up around his neck. His gait easily slipped from one of evening factory worker, to predator and all the years in between began to fade without notice.
William the Bloody took a deep breath and inhaled the fall air. It was crisp, one of the first chill evenings they'd had. The smell of burning leaves wafted through the neighborhood and the heavier smoke of hickory logs catching hold in everyone's fireplaces folded all around him. His eyes flashed amber as a craving he thought long abandoned swept through his being. His demon appeared, screaming its return into the night. Spike laughed as frightened dogs began to bark in backyards and as a tentative hush fell in all directions. He felt free, powerful, in control...back. He flung his arms wide and laughed again, then he realized...
He wanted to kill something...someone.
He wanted to plunge his fangs deep into the neck of some panic-filled, shivering, pissing-his-pants, lower-being and feel its life force fill him, the flow forceful at first, and slowly draining away as surely as did the victim's life. He wanted not only to devour that precious liquid, but he wanted to murder someone. The urge to reach out and cause terror, to cause pain, to cause death overwhelmed him. He shook with the need of it and his eyes blazed out like amber searchlights as he sought out hidden prey in the shadows.
Dimly in his mind another sound began to break through his reverie. He halted his motion smoothly, the flaps of his duster falling comfortably to his sides. There...yes. And there it was again. Footsteps, heels on the street. His nostrils fluttered as he sensed his prey coming to him. Pulling his coat around him, he fell back into the darkness and waited.
Footsteps...doubtless a woman's. As his victim approached, he felt the anticipation of the kill building within him. The heels were hard and the heel-toe, clip-clop. Vain meant easy to catch. He watched the haloes of the streetlamps which left yellow polka-dots on the asphalt. He heard her moving nearer and he held his breath. Then he saw something move, a foot in the lamplight at the far end of the street. Hardly a glimmer but it was there. The tips of both shoes drew even and stopped. It was as though she knew, she sensed the danger.
Spike drew back further, smiled and waited. It would only be a matter of time before the woman shook off the portent of evil as inconsequential and continued her journey, they always did. One minute, two...five. How long would she wait? Spike gave in and was about to begin to begin a slow stalk around behind and pounce on his victim himself when he had his own premonition. The hairs on his skin stood on end and his face flushed with apprehension, suddenly he knew who was standing there. He couldn't force himself to take in air to speak. His body was too disabled by his emotion. He felt himself wobble, but as he couldn't stand, he couldn't fall either. What little air was in his lungs found a way to escape through his gaping mouth and on it's way it formed a word, "Buffy."
"Spike? Are we going to stand here all night, staring at each other in the shadows or are you going to come out a talk to me?"
Her voice. How familiar it was. It was welcoming, beloved. It sounded like church bells. The impatience and tempered anger in her tone effected him not as she probably had hoped. It did not make him hurry to her out of fear, but it traveled down the street and washed over him, enveloping him in his past, returning him to Sunnydale, to friends, mentors, adventures and a life long ago and so closely guarded within his memory.
"Spike, come on. We don't have time for this."
Spike stepped forward into the light. His first word was one he hadn't let pass his lips since the day he'd killed her. "Slayer?"
Buffy took one step forward into the light. Spike had never seen anything so beautiful. Her hair was long and in the beam of the streetlamp it fairly glowed. Her skin was flawless as he remembered, but her eyes…something there was different. Everything he might have wanted to say fled his mind as the sight of her filled his eyes. She let him look. It had been a long time and, honestly, she'd missed his adoration and somehow she'd missed him as well.
She was the first to break free from the spell. She blinked away the vision of his warm blue eyes and demanded, "Follow me." Far beyond any capability to stop himself from doing anything but listen and obey, Spike trailed Buffy silently as she turned back into the shadows and strode back down the street. Halfway there, Spike fell into step beside Buffy. It was like old times, the pace quick, the stride determined…on patrol. He had so many questions, but they could wait. This is what he wanted and for now, just walking beside his Slayer again was enough to make him smile.
When they arrived back at his house, or rather Will and Beth's house, it took him by surprise. What was this place? How did he get there? There was no such house in Sunnydale. He looked to Buffy for an explanation but her eyes were fixed on the second floor window of Abbie's room. "Buffy?" he prompted.
"There's never enough time, Spike. You know?" Her voice seemed far away, thoughtful, he wanted to just stand there and watch her and listen to her for as much time as they had. "There wasn't enough time back then; with my parents, with my mom, my sister, my friends…with you." She lowered her gaze to meet his and he felt the familiar sting of guilt. "It wasn't enough. I was wrong to want it to end."
At these words, Spike closed his eyes. "You didn't want it to end, Buffy, I did it. I ended it before you were ready. I'm so sorry." There was silence. When he opened his eyes again, Buffy was standing as close to him as possible without touching. Her eyes were on his again and there was a smile on her face. "C'mon Spike. You know you could never beat me. Not unless I wanted you to."
"You let me…? Buffy! Tell me you didn't. Why?"
"I wanted it to be over, Spike. That life was so hard. It was too much for me, I can't image anyone who could bear it. I was tired of fighting battles in a never-ending war. I was tired of worrying about everyone; not just my sister, but my friends, Sunnydale, the world, the universe. The life that I was given wasn't just mine. It effected everyone I cared about, dragging them into dangerous situations and tempting them with evil. And then everyone left and I was lonely."
"I was there. I would've always been there. I never left, pet."
Buffy nodded in acknowledgement. "I was changing you too, dragging you down with me, after you'd tried so hard to rise above it. Later would have been too late. You were still a man of your word but if I didn't act then, you would have left too, somehow. I might have even killed you. I took advantage of you that day I came to you and had you kill me."
Buffy reached up and stroked his face. He carefully reached a hand around her and pulled her gently toward him. She came with little resistance and soon his lips were at her forehead, on her cheek. With the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her on his lips and the familiar smell of her he felt more at home than he had ever felt since. She welcomed the attention for a moment then backed away slowly. She ran a warm hand over his cheek. "Yes you would, love. You would have left, just as surely as you left tonight."
And suddenly he was ashamed. Here he stood surrounded by thirty year old feelings of personal want, personal need, unfulfilled dreams and not fifty feet away his 13 year old daughter lay dying. What kind of a man was he pretending to be?
"It's all right, Spike." Buffy's voice was sad, he hoped that it was because she was sharing what he had felt, but he didn't want to look at her. "It's okay, we'll make it right." She took him by the hand and they walked in through the still gaping front door and up the stairs. The night had drained him and he thought he had no more emotion left until the walked into Abbie's room and found Beth at her daughter's bedside. Her back was straight but her eyes were red and her worn hands contained the knotted remains of a sodden handkerchief. Beth looked up but if she were surprised at Buffy's presence, Spike never knew it. Beth stood up, leaned over and kissed Abbie for the last time, then she turned and walked to Buffy.
"You're the one she's been waiting for, I'm thinking." Buffy lowered her head in acknowledgement. "Now that you're here it won't take long." The blonde slayer shook her head softly.
Spike's eyes grew big. In response Beth replied, "You're not the only one she talks to, you know," and she left.
The room grew silent except for the soft breathing from the only still living occupant.
Spike stared at Abbie. "She's so little. So young. So full of potential. She's been my life. She was the reason I…why I am here. These thirteen years have meant the world to me." Quietly, Buffy nodded and the silence fell again. "Buffy? Why are you here?"
"I asked to be. I wanted to be here…with you." Buffy paused. "Why didn't you?"
"Didn't I what?"
"Turn her. When you found out she was going to die. Why didn't you make her immortal like you? Why aren't you and she out hunting down the villagers?"
The vampire was silent for a moment then responded, "I thought about it. I did. I just… She's so human… Hell, look around." Dutifully, Buffy surveyed the room full of stuffed animals, pictures of friends, photos with her mom, awards for school and sports, a drawing of him and his daughter smiling in their treehouse. The trappings of a normal childhood. "She loved this life. I couldn't take that away from her. That would've been for me…not for her…."
"I've been around death for a very long time, Spike. Vampires, demons, people I knew, people I loved, Mom…. Tara.… It took me a long time to realize that it wasn't for them that I cried, it was for myself….because I'd miss them, because they weren't there anymore.
"A long time ago, someone told me that "death was my gift". At the time I thought "what kind of a stupid gift is that?". But then I started to wonder what that meant, exactly. At the time, things were particularly hard for me and I felt like the prophesy meant that I was to be surrounded by death forever, that everything I touched, everything I loved was going to die…. But they didn't...not all. So I thought about it again and began to believe that the first Slayer was telling me that I had been granted some power over death, a kind of immortality of my own…I mean, hey, look at me…third time's the charm…."
Buffy smiled, but Spike didn't. He was watching his daughter try to breathe, watching as her chest rose and fell, as her lungs filled less fully each time and as the breaths came less and less frequently. It would be soon…. He knelt by the little girl's bed and held her hand to his cheek.
The gesture of tenderness on Spike's part took Buffy's breath away. She'd almost forgotten his depth of feeling. Surprisingly, she found she had to steady her voice for a moment before she could continue. "Next I thought that she meant that my own, ultimate death, would be my gift, my release. It would end my suffering and let me be free of my "Slayer" curse. And that's when I came to you…to help me. But I was wrong again. After you…after I died the last time, I finally realized what she meant." She stopped, waiting for him to respond.
It took a few minutes for him to realize it was his turn to talk, but his mind had wandered. He wasn't thinking about Buffy's prophesy…he was thinking about something else altogether. "Buffy?" he asked quietly. In answer, Buffy stepped to his side and laid her hand on his shoulder. I think I've found the answer, Spike. Death is my gift because I'm not afraid of it anymore. I've seen it in all it's forms, all it's guises and I know it's not the end. It's just the beginning."
As she spoke, the air around them began to shimmer and a dazzling light emanating from nowhere began to grow until the room was filled with brilliance. Slowly the light took shape and gathered into itself. With the soft ruffle of wings, an honest-to-God angel stood before them. Buffy had been the only one to not look away from the light, but now they all stared at the gentle, inevitable man in their midst. Buffy spoke first, "So soon?"
The angel exuded the affirmative and Buffy lowered her gaze in ascent.
But with fluid motion, despite 30 year's lack of practice, Spike was between the angel and his daughter. Buffy reacted quickly, trying to pull Spike away. Although braced for his strength, she was thrown across the room. In the tangle they became, Spike was at her, striking her from above with hands and feet. It was like old times, thought Buffy briefly, before she realized that that was wrong. It wasn't like old times. Then, Spike had fought with no real intention of actually winning. Now he was focussed on defeating her and his blows were intent on doing harm. Still, he was out of practice. Soon she had found a break in his defenses and managed to trip him up. They stood back from each other and fell into an easy stance.
"Spike," Buffy hissed in warning, "Do you know what'll happen to you for even trying to hurt an angel?" She glanced toward the angel who had moved, unaware of the battle in his presence, toward Abbie.
Spike sneered. "Fear of God, Slayer? There isn't anything more He can do to me. I'm already doomed to hell. I've lost you to Him and now He wants my daughter as well. What more do I have to lose? I'll fight you until one of us falls, but I won't let him take her without..." Buffy moved quickly to hold him out of the path of the angel. She held him from behind with a fierce but gentle strength. With a growl of frustration, Spike's face contorted to his other self as he struggled, but her arms held him tightly. Softly, Buffy whispered in his ear, "Spike, he's here to help her."
The angel lifted his eyes from Abbie to look into Spike's defiant face, but what Spike saw there was not challenge, it was only compassion and infinite peace.
Spike could never explain later exactly what it was he had felt, he treasured the glimpse of heaven that he saw in that moment, and it destroyed him at the same time. He looked until he couldn't look any longer, either knowing that was to come, or what wasn't and he turned his frightened, pleading eyes to Buffy whose grasp became an embrace.
Beth, having heard the commotion from downstairs, had come back because her heart knew what had to happen in this room tonight. Now she stood in the doorway. Stepping away from Buffy, no longer full of anger or fear, Spike joined his wife joined her at their daughter's bedside. He held her hand and whispered, "Abbie is ready, Beth. They're all here to help her go to a better place; where there's no pain, no death, no grief."
Buffy stepped back to give them room and watched as the angel took Abbie's hand.
The little girl opened her eyes. She smiled a weary hello at Buffy, as though she were an old friend, then turned her gaze to the glowing angel and smiled. She wasn't frightened by the winged being who was here to guide her home. "Daddy?" she called, looking back once more, still unsure, still with things unsaid.
Releasing Beth gently, Spike turned and fell to his knees beside his daughter. "Yes, luv?" His voice trembled.
"Don't be mad. I've gotta go. But I'll be waiting with them…for you and for Mom."
"Mama'll be along by and by, l'il bit," Spike managed. "I don't…," he began but as a wave of fear crept into Abbie's eyes as he hesitated. "It's all right, pet. I'll be along, I promise." Lying to her tore him up, but if his last job as a father was going to be helping his child die, he wasn't going to watch her go with terror on her face.
Comforted, Abbie softly repeated, "waiting."
"It's ok, baby. You go ahead, now."
A look of peace fell over Abbie's face as her breathing slowed. Spike laid his head down next to Abbie's and watched as her chest lowered easily one last time.
Spike was silent as the angel faded away. His tears could find no voice.
The first sound made in the room after Abbie left, was Beth who exhaled sharply and fell to the floor.
"Beth!" Buffy and Spike were both at her side.
"She's fainted. Carry her into the bedroom."
Spike lifted Beth easily in his arms and carried her to their room.
Buffy returned from the bathroom with a damp washcloth. "I'll stay with her. You should call the authorities."
Spike looked up at her slowly, blankly.
"For Abbie." Buffy reminded him softly.
"Oh. Right." Spike lifted the receiver at the side of the bed and made the call. After he hung up, he remembered there were other calls to make, that he and Beth knew were going to be necessary. There was a list in the desk downstairs. Spike stood and cleared his throat, "There's things I gotta do."
Dabbing the other woman's face with the cool cloth, Buffy nodded. As Spike turned to leave, Buffy asked, "She's happy, you know. I wanted you to know that."
Spike turned back and looked at Buffy. "Yeah, I know."
"Are you all right?"
"Will be. Thank you, Buffy, for bein' here." He gazed at her for a moment. Trying to tell her how much her presence had meant to him in the last few minutes, now much he missed her, how much he loved her still, how much he had wished that Abbie had been their child, how without his child he wanted to die.
She looked back, trying to tell him how much she had cared for him, how it shouldn't have gone unsaid, how much she still loved him, how much she had wanted a real life, a real life with him, how she had prayed for him in his loss...prayed for them all.
After a lifetime, they turned to their separate duties; Spike going to make his calls, and Buffy to tend to his wife.
Sometime after Spike returned, Beth began to stir. Buffy left the room discretely as they spoke to each other words of comfort that only parents who had shared such a pain could understand. On her way out, she closed the door, and turning back into the room she saw Beth's arms reach around Spike's neck, fiercely seeking for something solid to depend on.
As she waited, Buffy thought, "I should go. Staying isn't helping either of them any more." But she couldn't leave. While they talked, she went to Abbie's room where she disconnected the medical equipment, removed the tubes from her arms and brushed the girl's hair. She picked out clothes and laid them on the bed for the funeral home. Then she went downstairs, put away the untouched meal and did the dishes. When the doorbell rang she answered the door and showed the men from the coroner's office to Abbie's room. She knocked softly on the other bedroom door and Spike emerged, weary and puffy-eyed, to sign the necessary papers. When he was done, he wouldn't look at her. "Thanks for taking care of…things Buffy. Beth and I…we're still talking."
"That's good."
He nodded, but didn't move. He paused, then said, "I'm telling her the truth."
"'Bout time," Buffy smiled. "I'll make some tea. It's bound to be a long night, depending on the version."
Spike flicked a glance at Buffy and with a sad smile said, "A cuppa'd be good. It's the unabridged version, I'm afraid."
"It's the right thing to do."
"Thought you'd see it that way," he added as he looked away again, but his smile grew warmer.
"I'll be up in a minute."
"Don't hurry."
Beth set down the empty teacup on the tray that Buffy had found and used to bring the refreshments upstairs. They sat in the two chairs that filled the sitting area of Spike and Beth's bedroom. Beth's eyes were rimmed red and she still sniffed softly once in a while. She held a wet handkerchief tightly in her left hand. "Thank you, dear," she said politely, but she couldn't help staring at Buffy when she thought she wasn't looking. Buffy sipped her tea, glancing between the two bereaved parents slowly, waiting and wondering what they had talked so long about.
"Will, could you please leave us alone for a few minutes? I'd like to talk to Buffy now."
"All right," Spike crossed the room and with one glance back at the two women, he closed the door.
Buffy took another sip of tea.
"He's a good man," Beth said, almost to herself, but not quite.
"Yes," Buffy replied. "One of the best."
"But not really a man?"
"No." Buffy looked up at Beth, judging what she knew about Spike, she assumed Beth knew. "Vampire."
"So he said." The older woman held her breath for a moment. "I don't know. Either I'm crazy, or you two are. But tonight's been so…unbelievable. I don't know what to think. Angels, Slayers, vampires, ghosts…. I must admit I knew that Will was different. I fell in love with him because he was unlike anyone else I had ever known. And now I see that everything I fell in love with was because of who, or what he is. He is boyish, but mature beyond (what I thought were) his years, he is kind, but in a sad I've-seen-it-all way, he keeps himself under control, but there is a rage inside of him."
Buffy let Beth talk, and as she did, memories began to overwhelm her. Memories of times when she and Spike had been together, had laughed, had loved, had shared life.
"But now, I guess this explains a lot."
"Yes," was all Buffy could say.
"He said you were The Chosen One. Sworn to kill him, but you didn't."
"No."
"But he killed you."
Buffy's eyes opened wide for a moment. He hadn't held back, had he? "Yes," she answered roughly.
"He killed a great many people."
"Yes."
"But you still loved him?"
For a moment, Buffy hesitated. She hadn't even told Spike that she'd loved him. Ever. Now could she confess it to his wife? Could she not? "Yes."
Beth looked evenly at Buffy, accessing her. She left the next obvious question unasked and changed the subject. "Me too. Abbie was our life. Will…I can't call him Spike…he and I were husband and wife, but parents first. After she was born, I quit my job and stayed home to take care of her, to be here for her. I used to make her snacks to take to school, leave notes in her lunchbox…God, those years went by so fast. I tried to be here for him too, to let him know he was loved, but Abbie was always first with him. Always."
"I couldn't have imagined Sp…I mean Will being a daddy. But he loved Abbie very much."
"Yes, he did. Have you been in the back yard?"
Buffy shook her head.
"He built her a treehouse back there. It's amazing. He spent every night out there for three weeks, made her stay in her room where she couldn't see. It was a present to her for her 9th birthday. He's no carpenter, not handy at all. The paint was drippy and the wood cut unevenly, but when she finally saw it, hugged him, and first climbed up there, you would have thought he'd built the Taj Mahal, he was so proud." Beth wiped away a stray tear with the tissue in her hand. "He slept out there that night with her. He always made her feel safe."
"He has a way about him," Buffy agreed.
Beth nodded, "Yes, he loved her very much. But he never loved me, not the way I loved him, or the way he loves you."
"'Loved', Beth. He doesn't love me anymore, it's you he…."
Calmly she continued, "And he's a liar."
"What?" Buffy sat up straighter.
"It's all right. He is. We all know it. He told me himself. He said he'd been lying at work, to me, to Abbie."
"Oh, Beth. He wouldn't. He's upset. He…"
"Stop. Buffy, he's right. He is. He hid the truth from me for all those years. He may have started it, but I let him continue. I chose to believe the lies." Buffy started to speak but Beth continued, "Aversion to sunlight? He said he was allergic. No religion? Non-believer. No garlic bread? Too strong a flavor. Good eyesight at night? Carrots." A small, self-derisive laugh fell from her lips. "See? I chose to be blind, to believe he loved me."
"Of course he loves you. You couldn't have guessed about his past. It's too unbelievable, even to me, and I was there." Buffy argued.
"No, I'm seeing him clearly now at last." Beth wiped her eyes again and looked at Buffy. "I'll be lonely, but we can't be together any more. I'm not strong enough for that. Not like you."
"Yes you are. Beth, you're stronger than you think. You've just been through a lot tonight. Don't do anything you're going to…."
"Regret? I won't. We won't. We're going to get a divorce."
Buffy spilled her tea into her lap. She stood up hastily and wiped at it with a napkin. "You…you can't…."
"Sure we can. Even the Catholic church will give us an annulment based on the fact that my husband is a vampire," Beth answered matter-of-factly.
"No, I mean…You can't. Not now. You're upset. You don't know what you're doing."
"Yes we do. I know that this is the right decision. I just don't know what I'm going to do now. Abbie and Will were my life."
"Spike!" Buffy called, frantically. She couldn't be hearing this.
Spike stepped back into the room as though he'd been waiting outside listening all along. He raised his eyebrows and looked from the woman in the bed to the one with the tea-stained pants and back again. "Yeah?" he asked too innocently.
Buffy stopped wiping the spots on her clothes and looked at Spike, back to Beth, then back to Spike. "Okay, you two, what's goin' on?"
"I don't know what you're…"
Buffy's glare cut Spike off mid-sentence. "Listen, Spike, I didn't come back here to break up your marriage. I didn't come back to take you away from a life you've made for yourself, from your wife. I didn't…."
"I see what you mean, Will," Beth spoke first. "It is all about her, isn't it?" Spike nodded to his wife. "Well, maybe we are rushing this a little. Maybe we should give her some time."
"Time for me? You two should… What are you two talking about? And since when is it all about…."
Spike grabbed a sputtering Buffy by the elbow and steered her out of the room. "Let me just explain it to her in my own way, Beth."
Buffy put up little resistance as he led her down the stairs and out under the stars, but the night air refreshed her. "Spike! Let go of me," she shouted as she shook loose of his grip. Gallantly, Spike indicated a bench at the side of the house where she could sit.
The ex-Slayer sputtered for a few minutes longer and when she'd run out of steam, Spike spoke. "Okay, my turn?"
Buffy closed her gaping mouth and nodded.
"This is not all about you. Yes, I'm still in love with you. My love for you will never die, no matter what happens to the rest of us, our bodies or our souls. But that doesn't matter. You don't love me, and that doesn't matter either. Right now this is about Beth."
Buffy blinked. "Beth?" she asked, confused.
Spike got angry, "Yeah, Buffy. Beth. My wife of 13 years, partner in life, well her life anyway. Beth who cared for Abbie as much as I did, who put up with a man who cared for her, but who couldn't love her. Who shared her mortal life with me, no questions asked. This is about her."
Buffy sat back, amazed again at his depth of emotion.
Spike stood up and sniffed the night air, looking up into the sky, up at the old treehouse. "Abbie was what held me here. I was never a man to stay around long. I think my four years with you in Sunnyhell were about the longest until she came along. Beth was good to me. Loved me. But it's time she had more. She needs a life, and considering…everything…it's the least I can do."
"Spike! You're not going to tur…."
"No! Buffy, how could you even think I would! No. I mean to find her a purpose. Something to be after I…," he meant to say this, but it was still hard. "After I leave."
"You can't."
"Stop, it. Stop saying that, Buffy. I have to. It's the right thing to do." He sat down again on the bench. "It's right."
"Oh, hell. Okay, so it's right. Let's say its right for you two who have had a perfectly happy marriage for 13 years to call it quits on the night that your daughter... Now what? What do you mean about finding Beth a purpose?"
"Well, she loves kids, you know. She was a good mum. Loved havin' a girl. Abbie was my everything, but Beth understood her. Understood her in a way I never could." Talking about Abbie was getting to him. He wiped his hand under his nose and sniffed before he could continue. "So I thought, maybe, there might be a place for her in England. At the Council, workin' with the Watchers?"
Buffy didn't know what to say. She looked down at her shoes and remembered why she had loved this man so long ago and wondered why he could still move her to tears. "I don't have a lot of pull there anymore."
"No? Didn't think so, you know, dead and all," but I thought Willow or Anya might call, if you asked. Sure as hell, I can't ask for a favor from those two, not after….But maybe you could?"
"And what do I say? 'Hi guys, back to ask a favor. Spike's wife needs a job'?"
"You don't have to say anything 'bout me, Slayer. Just say she's an acquaintance, a friend."
How could she deny him this? "Okay, I'll try."
Spike nodded and put his elbows on his knees, hanging his head.
"It's been a long night," Buffy said softly.
"One of the worst," the vampire agreed.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the night.
"And you? Where'll you go?"
Spike shook his head. "I dunno. Maybe head back west. Clem's been after me to visit him since he settled down and had a family." Buffy made a face. "Yeah, scary, huh? Lot's of Shar-pei kids walkin' round. Still, it'd be nice to see him again. How 'bout you?"
"Me? Well," Buffy looked furtively at the horizon. "I've gotta go back. You know. Dead and all. I only got special leave for tonight. They won't let me again."
"Oh." Spike followed Buffy's gaze and watched as the sky began to lighten turning black to gray in the distance. "Maybe I'll just go with you," he said, half to himself.
"No, Spike. You can't. Beth still needs you. She can't lose you both in the same night."
Spike reached over and took her hand, "So later, then. But soon. Buffy I still miss you so much. It's so hard without you."
"You know it can't be that way. I should go. I need to talk to Willow and Anya while I can."
He nodded but clung to her hand for a moment longer.
"Spike. There's so much I want to say, but I can't. So much I want to tell you." Buffy's visage began to waiver and Spike felt her slipping away. "Know that Beth will be cared for. That Abbie is happy. That I loved you. That I love you. Know that I'm waiting for you." And then Buffy disappeared.
Sitting in the early dawn, Spike felt the weight of the world slip from his shoulders. His sadness persisted for those he loved, for the time he faced without them, but as Buffy's words replayed in his mind, he realized they were full of promise.
Beth would have a fulfilling future in England, comforting children with her warmth and love. Abbie was happy, an angel had taken her to where she was no longer sick, where she could once again play ball, or climb trees or laugh at the clouds. Buffy had loved him despite their differences, and still did in spite of time and dimension. Their love was stronger than the bonds of this earth.
He replayed the night in his head over and over again. In the end he realized that he knew three things he hadn't known yesterday. That Abbie was in the company of angels, that Buffy was watching over him, and waiting for him. Waiting implied that they would be together again someday and beyond that he didn't care to speculate. He wiped his hands on his thighs, stood and stretched. It had been a long night, but the day was dawning brightly and it was full of hope.
FIN