TITLE: Flashpoint (2/?)
AUTHOR: alliterator
SUMMARY: Spike returns from Africa with a soul. You heard it already? Not this one.
SPOILERS: Through "Grave".
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox, no matter how much I whine and plead and beg them, just so I can have one character, but no, they have be all, we own them. Bastards.

It was wet. The things he was touching, the things he was grabbing at. They slipped out of his hand as he desperately tried to hold on to them. He pulled at them, but they slipped out of his grasp. He opened his eyes. Grass. That was what he had been pulling at. He had been grabbing and tearing at grass. Then he realized he was lying on the ground on the cemetery he had been at. The cemetery where he had gone to talk to Buffy. Where he had felt the pain and light and had slipped away. Just like the grass in his fingers. He got up.

"Bloody hell," Spike said as a headache wracked his brain and a dazzling lightshow covered the inside of his eyelids. "Buffy?" He opened his eyes and looked around the cemetery. There was no one there. The graveyard was empty expect for a chill wind that passed among the lonely graves.

Where'd she go? Spike thought. She wouldn't have run off and left me would she? She probably went off to fetch Xander or somebody.

Better go back to my crypt, he thought. If Xander finds me, he'll probably stake me.

A 20-minute trek later and he was back at his crypt. "Clem," he called out. No answer. "Good, I'm alone." He turned on the television and sat down on his recliner. A thought occurred to him and then he stood up and looked down at the recliner. "Clem must have come through," he said, thinking it out in his mind. Clem had put his recliner back up here because Spike had told him to. Simple. But as Spike looked around his crypt, he noticed that other things were different. There was no sofa, no loveseat, only dust and Spike's recent footprints.

Shouldn't Clem's footprints be there, too?

Spike shoved the trapdoor open and looked inside. It was neat, but not like it had been. There was no roll-a-way, no colorful magnets on the refrigerator that Clem had put up, and the furniture was… the exact some place he had it about a year ago.

What was going on?

Spike slammed the trapdoor shut and walked out of his crypt hurrying. He needed find out what had happened when he was unconscious. He needed to know what had happened to him. He decided to go the Magic Box. Someone there would know, Anya or maybe Willow. The same Willow who tried to end the world.

What was happening?

"Spike." A voice stopped him in his tracks. Spike turned around and looked uneasily at Giles. He had thought Giles had been in England, but with all the messed up things that had happened he hadn't been surprised to see him. Just disappointed.

"Look I know what you're going to say, but…" Spike stopped talking when he saw the wooden stake in Giles's hand. Did Buffy tell him about what happened? Was he going to stake him right there?

"How went patrol?" Giles said the last thing Spike thought he would.

Spike didn't know what to say. "What?"

"Did you kill any vampires? I'm afraid that my patrol was rather uneventful." Was this a trick? Was Giles messing with him to get revenge? Or did this have something to do with the changes that had happened?

"Uh, I did okay," Spike said, "I, uh, think something happened to me though."

"Oh, what?" If Giles was playing a game, his facial expression sure didn't show it.

"I went unconscious during… patrol." Well, technically he had been patrolling, just not for vampires.

"Well, we better check you out at the Magic Box," Giles said. He started walking down in the direction where the shop was. Spike followed him.

***

The Magic Box looked the same, which Spike thought was weird. He expected it to be different, to have changed since everything had happened, but it looked no different at all. It looked the same from when he had been in it last. When he and Anya had… he tried not to think about it. The store still had the musty smell of old books to it, that stayed no matter how much Anya tried to get it out, spraying lemon pine sol everywhere. The shelves were still in the same places, with all the crystals and objects neatly in place, Anya having obsessively placed them according to size and use. Even the little bell above the doorway was still there, the one with that always annoyed him when he walked in.

"You'd better describe to me what happened," Giles ran his finger through some books that were on the countertop; lifting up a layer of dust before he chose the one he wanted.

Spike sat down on one of the stools next to the counter while Giles looked for the appropriate book. "I was looking for Buffy," Giles lifted his head from the book, surprised. "in the cemetery," Giles looked down again and Spike wondered why he had looked startled. "When I felt a lot of pain and then went unconscious."

"You're probably pretty lucky," Giles flipped through the book, looking for the right page, "whatever hit you wasn't fatal. Let's see... here's the index. Do you remember anything else?"

"There was a bright flash of light," Spike looked at him, still trying to understand why he was helping him. "Does that help?"

"Yes, actually, it does," Giles ran his finger up and down the index. "Hmmm... no not Iager lizard demons or Igygian temples... ah here it is..."

"Here what is?" Spike looked at him quizzically.

"The Illume affect," Giles flipped through the pages again, intent on looking for the page.

"And what would that be?"

"Ah," Giles found what he was looking for and buried his nose in it. "A mystical phenomenon that open dimensional gateways triggered by a flash –" He was interrupted by the sound of the bell above the doorway.

"Well, look who's here."

Spike looked up from the place he was sitting and saw the source of the voice, immediately regretting it.

Standing in the doorway was Xander and Willow, each holding a stake in their hands.

***

"Look, it's not what you think," Spike got up defensively and looked for another exit. Xander approached him and Spike backed away, bumping into the counter. Xander held the stake tightly as he approached Spike.

"Geez, where have you been?" Xander said.

"What?" Spike looked at him with confusion.

"Next time you go on patrol all alone tell us, okay?" Xander put the stake back in his pocket.

"Again I saw, what?" Spike said, but Xander ignored it and went to Giles.

"So what's the sitch, watcher-man?" Xander said to him.

"Please don't call me that," Giles replied. "It appears Spike had an episode."

"Psychotic episode? I knew it was just a matter of time."

"A mystical episode," Giles looked back down at his book. "Something called the Illume affect."

"Can we help?" Willow walked across the Magic Box and came to the counter next to Xander. "Maybe I can do a spell."

Spike looked at her with his eyes filled with confusion. "I thought you were..."

"What?" Willow said.

"Nothing," Spike decided that it was better not to say anything and just try and figure out what was going on himself.

Willow hopped the counter, ignoring a disapproving look from Giles, and started looking through the tomes. "Maybe I can find out some more about this Illume affect. Like why it happens."

"I've already figured out what triggers it," Giles said turning back to the page in the book. "It's called a flash –" The bell above the front door rang again.

"Hey guys, what are you doing?" Spike looked at the person in front of him, not believing what he was seeing. Tara? It looked like her. But Clem had said... it couldn't be her. Could it? Clem must have been mistaken. Because there she was, bright as day. Spike could smell her and confirmed she was there and not some mirage his chip-addled brain was showing to him. She was real.

"Hey, Tara," Willow smiled and looked at her girlfriend. "I thought you were back at the house?"

"I changed my mind," Tara walked over to the counter and sat down on a stool, "thought you might need some help with whatever's happening."

"Good," Willow flashed a toothy grin, "cause it seems that Spike's having a mystical problem."

"Ahem," everybody turned back to Giles. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted twice, the phenomena is triggered by a flashpoint."

"A what-point?" Xander, as usual, was clueless. Spike observed this with humor, although he himself didn't know what it was either.

"A flashpoint," Giles repeated.

"And what is that?"

Giles shook his head. "I don't know."

"Maybe," Tara said, "Anya could help. She knows demon stuff."

"Nah," Xander said, "she's been having a rough time and I don't want to wake her up."

At this point Spike was getting upset. All he knew about what happened to him was that it was some phenomenon that happened because of a flashpoint, whatever the bloody hell that was. He was confused at why Giles was back in Sunnydale, why Willow seemed to be still doing magic, and why Tara was still alive. But basically all he really wanted to do was see Buffy. He needed to. "Why don't we just call the Slayer?" he finally said.

All the eyes turned towards him. "Spike," Giles said to him, "I don't think that Faith could help us from jail."

Where they all just stupid? "Not Faith," Spike said, "Buffy."

The room was quiet. All their eyes now avoided him, looking towards the wall or ceiling or floor. Anywhere but him. "Spike," Xander said finally tearing his eyes away from the countertop, "Buffy's dead."

"What? No she's not." Had they all gone out of their minds? He had been speaking to her less than an hour before... before whatever the hell that hit him happened. "She's alive. I saw her."

"Spike," Giles walked up to him, "she died two years ago. She jumped from the tower, saving the world."

"No," Spike back away, "I mean, yes, she did do that and she did die, but you brought her back." He turned to Willow. "You brought her back."

"No, we didn't," Willow said. "You stopped us. Don't you remember? You said that is was wrong to disturb her, that she was probably in Heaven or something. You said, if we brought her back, she wouldn't be the same. She wouldn't be Buffy."

"No," Spike repeated, "No, she's alive. She's not dead. She can't be dead."

"We can prove it."

***

The tombstone stood high, like it was in the upper hierarchy of tombstones. It rested in a little nook of the cemetery where no one who wasn't looking could find it. Spike looked down and saw it. Her grave. The place where she lay, having finally escape the pain and suffering of the world. Her final resting place. Her peace.

"No," Spike said, "she's not here."

"But she is, Spike," Giles said calmly, placing flowers next to the tombstone. "This is where we buried her."

"No," Spike pushed his hand through his hair, "she's not in there. She's not in there." He couldn't stand it. The soul... the soul was hurting now. Worse than ever. Worse than when it dragged up all the memories of those he killed. Worse than the memory of the attempted rape. The soul was in pain and Spike was in pain. "SHE'S NOT IN THERE!" Spike yelled and launched himself at the tombstone, shattering it.

"Spike," Giles said going forward.

"Giles, I don't think he can hear you," Willow gripped his shoulder. "I think he's gone."

And he was gone. His mind was no longer there. After breaking the tombstone, he had started to pull up dirt above the grave. Dig it up. Dirt ran through his hands, soiling his pants and shirt, but he didn't care. He reached for something to dig with and grabbed a piece of the broken off tombstone. He started digging more violently. Above him were voices, distant and caring.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Can we do anything to help him?"

"I don't think so. I think he's gone out of his mind."

"Is he a danger? Can he hurt anyone?"

"The chip will prevent him from hurting humans, but he could hurt himself."

"What should we do?"

"I believe the only way to stop his pain, is to end his being."

"Kill him?"

"It would be the merciful thing to do."

He drowned the voices out as he dug. His hands were now bloody, having been cut and scraped from the tombstone fragment, but he didn't care. Hand to ground, scoop the dirt, throw it behind, hand to ground... he repeated the same process of digging, thinking desperately "She's not there, she can't be there, she's not dead, she's not there, she's alive, I saw her, she's alive..." And he kept digging.

Hours passed. His fingers were scarred and bent and covered with dirt and grime. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically. Sunrise was going to come up in fifteen minutes, but he kept digging. And he came to it. The coffin. It was mahogany and heavy, but he threw the rest of the dirt out of the six-foot hole he had dug. He lifted the coffin's edge and felt a pain in his chest. He opened the coffin fully and the pain exploded.

There she was. Lying there, resting peacefully. Her hair was golden and her face was decomposed. "NO!" Spike cried out flinging himself into the coffin. Burning tears flowed down his face as he looked at Buffy. The pain was too much to bear. He faced her and looked into her eyes, her deep set eyes. They didn't look back. She was dead.

The salt from his tears poured into his wounds and he screamed. He looked down at his dear beloved Buffy and thought, "I did this to her. I made her like this. This is my fault." The pain was excruciating, almost unbearable, like a thousand little needles were stabbing into him all over at the same time.

He leaned down into the coffin and looked into her face. The pain was everywhere now. He saw her blonde hair and hazel eyes and sunken face and he said "Goodbye."

The pain took him. It pulled him in. The light – the Illume – pulled him in and this time, he offered no resistance. He let himself be sucked in by the whirlwind of light and pain. And he was gone.

End Part Two