Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. I'm just borrowing them and letting my imagination roam free.
Summary: AU Season Six. Angel and Faith came back to Sunnydale. When Buffy returned, Angel lost his soul. Spike took Angelus to Africa to fight for a soul for both of them.
Chapter 25: Epic
It was, it had to be conceded, an epic moment. A vampire fighting trials to regain his soul, all for the love of a woman.
Spike, lying on the ground curled up into a ball, briefly considered the reasons why this was poetic, not to mention just a little bit heroic. As he ticked them off in his mind he tried to ignore the aching of his shattered ribs. He could feel ugly shards of bone sticking out of his ruined flesh.
He was glad he was 'breathing optional' at times like this. Breathing would have hurt a lot more than anything else.
He tried to remember the reasons he was doing this, and oddly all he could remember was Xander, stupid, helpless Xander. Xander had seen Faith the morning after, and had realized Spike had slept with her, somehow. He'd charged out to kill Spike.
Stupid, useless heroism.
Xander, who was always so protective of Buffy and Faith and Willow, his girls, all of whom had more power than he could ever hope to have. He was the helpless sidekick who had to be rescued, and up until then, when Xander had come after him with a stake, Spike had assumed he was just too stupid to realize it. Spike had thought he was so stupid he thought he was one of the team.
He wasn't that stupid, Spike had come to realize.
It was heroism. The sort of heroism that came to someone with no special powers. The sort of heroism that came to someone who had no sacred callings, no prophecy driving them forward.
Spike wished he had some blood on hand. But he didn't even have animal blood to help his body knit itself back together.
The demon watched him, a sneer on its lips. Spike wanted very badly to have the strength to stand up and wipe that sneer off its face. If the stupid demon gave him one more trial, one more impossible task, he would die. It was as simple as that.
"You've fought well," acknowledged the demon. "The borrowed strength of the three Slayers whose blood you stole, with a will to win and a spirit that's almost...effulgent."
Spike groaned, feeling the icy pain of his back ignite as his muscles tensed at the last word. "Get on with it, you ponce!" he snarled.
"I've already set you to double the tasks, since you wish double the reward," said the demon. "But there is one more task you must face."
"Another task?" gasped Spike.
"Of a sort," said the demon, amused. "You need to prove that you truly want this soul. More than anything."
"I do!" said Spike fervently.
"We will see."
The demon left, leaving Spike there to contemplate his broken arm, and how best to set it.
Faith rolled out of the demon's way, wincing as the gravel underneath her hit the cuts on her back where his razor sharp claws had chewed through her. She managed to get to her feet, ignoring the sharp lances pricking her back where the gravel had stuck in her wounds.
Buffy charged forward, slashing at the monster expertly with a broadsword. A quick overhand feint, followed by a tight jab at its stomach, and the beast lurched back, wounded. The slight blue sheen around its skin started to blacken as thick black blood pumped from the wound.
Faith hoped that this would signal a turning point in the battle. Unfortunately, it also signaled to the demon that he was losing. Realizing this he lashed out violently, past Buffy's defenses, sending her sprawling.
Faith charged forward, jumping up into the air and scissoring a kick at the demon's head.
He anticipated her, lifting an arm. She slammed into it, feeling bone give as she slammed a foot into it. He howled, but whirled around with a huge handful of claws at eye level. She was still recovering from the kick, and didn't have time to dodge, so she blocked, both arms coming up.
The hard claws dug deep into her arms, and she snarled, reflexively relaxing as the impact slammed her to the ground.
Then Buffy was there, hitting the beast from behind. His head was torn from his shoulders, and his body smashed to the ground, the impact shaking Faith.
She grunted, flexing her fingers, and rolling off her thrice-wounded back. "Aw, dammit!" she muttered, feeling hot blood streaking down her forearms.
Buffy moved beside her, setting the sword aside. She checked Faith's back, her fingers lifting the shreds of the shirt Faith had been wearing. Faith hissed as the cloth pulled at her sticky wounds.
"Just flesh wounds," Buffy proclaimed, but she sounded a little shaken.
"A little gravel rubbed in, huh?" asked Faith.
"Yeah. That'll hurt coming out."
Faith chuckled. After the summer they'd just gone through, a little physical pain felt like therapy. "Okay." She stood up slowly, careful not to move her arms. Buffy checked the arms and let out another hiss of breath.
"That's pretty deep," said Buffy. "We should go back, bandage them up."
Faith nodded. The worst part came later, she knew. When the wounds started to heal, they would begin to itch. They'd be nothing but pink scar tissue in a few days, but the itching could drive her mad.
"You take a lot of hits," said Buffy quietly.
"What?" It wasn't quite defensive when she said it. She managed to modulate it down to a simple exclamation.
"You need to work on dodging. Blocking." There was no judgement in the words, although Faith was pretty sure she deserved at least a little for the way she threw herself into the fights.
Faith managed a tight grin. "I've gotta get me a better Watcher."
Buffy laughed, a genuine laugh she couldn't have managed a few weeks before. "You'll never find one as good as Giles," she warned.
Faith smiled. She had her own opinion of Giles, but she knew that there was a solid friendship behind the words of praise. Faith remembered Wesley, and wondered what had become of him. He had been a completely useless Watcher, but he had betrayed his old friends at the Watchers Council for her, had saved her.
It occurred to her that spending time with Angel must have been good for him.
It also occurred to her that her time with Angel had been good for her, too.
When they got back to the house Xander and Anya were there, which surprised them both. Faith glanced at the clock. "Shouldn't good little carpenters be in bed at this time of night?"
Buffy headed straight for the bathroom where they kept the oft-needed medical kit.
"So should good little waitresses," said Xander easily, as if it was normal banter.
Faith noted that Anya's gaze was on her in way that was markedly different from the way she looked at Buffy. It was a slightly jealous look, but also a slightly angry look. Faith had seem this hostility from the ex-demon before, but it always shook her a little bit.
"What's the problem?" asked Buffy, returning with the bandages.
"I've been asking around for Clem, like you told me to," said Xander. "And this guy...this demon...he told me Clem went to Africa. With a vampire."
Buffy stiffened. "A vampire?" The singular wasn't lost on Faith either, and both watched Xander closely. He shrugged.
"Well, Clem was Spike's friend, wasn't he? I assumed it was Spike."
"It doesn't mean anything," said Faith quickly.
Buffy nodded, but clearly this piece of intelligence fazed her. She moved behind Faith with the disinfectant, and Faith braced herself.
"I'll go see if I can find something for you two to eat," said Xander, heading for the kitchen.
Faith wondered if it was the way Buffy was lifting her shirt, exposing her skin, that sent him running, or the sight of the blood. Either way, she dismissed him as squeamish.
Anya's eyes narrowed, and Faith glared at her. "What's your problem, demonella?" she demanded, tired of tiptoeing around the ex-demon.
"What?" asked Anya, trying for an innocent sound. "I have no idea what you're talking about. It's certainly not as if there's any kind of unresolved tension between us."
Faith rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure, tension."
"There's two kinds of women I don't like around Xander," said Anya, her voice a bit harsh. "Women who've had any kind of relationship with him. And don't think I don't know about your little hijinks with Xander!"
"Hijinks. I just learned a new euphemism," said Faith, amused. Buffy listed in silence, dabbing at Faith's wounds. In a way Faith was grateful; the conversation was helping her ignore the fire running up and down her back.
"And other kind is women that've tried to kill Xander. Which often means women in the first category too." Anya pointed her finger at Faith. "Making you a double threat. I'm just warning you now, stay away from Xander." She stalked into the kitchen after Xander.
"You know, I think I'm kind of glad she's with Xander," said Buffy.
"Oh?" said Faith, surprised.
"Yeah. She watches his back—keeps him out of trouble."
"Keeps him away from murdering sluts?" asked Faith.
"Yeah," said Buffy. "Which is good for Xander. I used to save him every other week, you know."
Faith snorted. "I bet."
"No, really. Did I ever tell you about the giant praying mantis who tried to kill him?"
Wesley and Gunn together managed to grapple the demon to the floor. "Stab him! Stab him!" screamed Wesley.
Cordelia smashed a sword through the demon's eye, and he made a gurgling noise, thrashing around, throwing Wesley and Gunn off. They flew away, smashing into the walls of the alley.
The demon thrashed a few more times and then fell still.
"Death throes?" asked Lorne, from behind a dumpster.
"Yep," said Cordelia, her voice halfway to cheerfulness. "Guys, are you all right?"
"Fine," groaned Wesley.
"Great," said Gunn, standing up. "The best piñatas in town."
Lorne sighed, standing up and dusting himself off. "Yes, I can see where Angel-cakes would have been a little helpful there."
Wesley stood up, but then sat back down. "Let's play a little game of what if?" he said bitterly.
"Wes, don't start. Please," begged Cordelia.
"What if I had been a better Watcher? Angel would still be here, because there'd have been no Slayer to go rescue. What if I had let the Council kill Faith? No Slayer to go rescue, and Angel would still have his soul." The self-loathing in Wesley's voice was harsh and grating. Even Gunn looked a little miserable as he kept talking.
"And while we're at it, let's thank the PTB!" said Cordelia, trying to calm him down. "If the Powers had seen fit to send me a vision, we could have all run to Sunnydale to prevent it! You're not the only one to blame, Wes."
Wesley grunted. "No, just the most immediate."
Faith swung herself on the parallel bars, watching Buffy slam her fists into the punching bag. The blonde Slayer had a dark rhythm, keeping the bag always moving. Faith let the hypnotic dance distract her for a second, and missed her handhold, tumbling off the bars to the floor.
She recovered quickly, rolling to her feet. Buffy watched her, amused, letting the punching bag lie still.
"Lose your balance?" asked Buffy.
Faith gave her a hard look. "I got distracted."
"That's as good as dead," said Buffy. "Every Slayer has a deathwish, you know."
"What?"
"Every Slayer. We deal death out with these hands of ours every day. Every time we put another vampire, another beast of the night, to their eternal slumber, we wonder."
"Wonder what?"
"What it's like. What death is like. All they need is one moment. And then somebody gets a lucky day." Buffy glanced down at her own hands. "Spike taught me that. He knows all about Slayers. Killed two of them, you know."
Faith nodded. "So I heard." She was filled with a burning curiosity. "Tell me about Spike?" she asked Buffy, her voice so quiet Buffy barely heard her.
Buffy shrugged. "We don't know much," she said. "Maybe Angel knows more. He was always bad, though. Bad to the bone." She shivered. "He earned the name William the Bloody before he was turned. Afterwards he was one of the Scourge of Europe—Angelus' brood. After Angelus got a soul Spike and Drusilla wreaked havoc for a hundred years."
"Until he came to Sunnydale. Beat me here," said Faith. "What was he like?"
Buffy shivered, remembering. "I remember that he was so arrogant, so confident. The first thing he ever said was that he'd kill me. This Saturday, he said. But then he got bored and ended up coming before Saturday, before his plan was ready." Faith smiled. "We fought, and I dropped an organ on him. Then Angel lost his soul."
Faith winced. "The first time," she said glumly. There was a world of heartache in that simple sentence.
Buffy nodded. "I had thought Spike was the worst vampire I'd ever met. I was wrong. Angelus made him look harmless. Spike was...is...he's evil, but in a random sort of way. Unfocused. He always came after me, tried to kill me. Angelus went after my friends."
Faith swallowed. "Sounds about right."
"Then, one day—Willow was in the hospital. Kendra—the Slayer before you—Drusilla killed her. Everyone else was missing. A cop found me. Had his gun pointed at me. They thought I killed Kendra, you see. And I thought I was done for. It was all over. Angelus had won. I was going to jail. And then, suddenly, Spike was there. Knocked the cop out—was going to kill him till I stopped him. Offered to help me take Angelus down in exchange for safe passage for himself and Drusilla."
Faith nodded, fascinated with the tale. "Because Angelus had taken his woman."
"Then Drusilla left him, and he came to Sunnydale. He always came back. Year after year, he kept coming back, till the Initiative got him, put a chip in his head." Faith smiled at a private thought at that point.
"And that's the story of Spike," said Faith with a sigh. She knew there was more, but didn't want Buffy to go on. She knew what came next. The vampire who fell in love with the Slayer.
The vampire who would never love the other Slayer.
She could tell from Buffy's gaze that the other Slayer understood all too well. But Buffy didn't say anything. They knew each other too well for that. Instead Buffy went back to the punching bag.
Faith climbed back on top of the parallel bars, swinging herself around.
The two Slayers walked into Willy's place together, and the place immediately went quiet. Even though both Slayers had only recently returned, they both had very big reputations.
"Slayers," said Willy nervously. "What can I do for you?"
Faith leaned into the bar. "First, give me a shot. Next, tell me what's up."
Willy poured nervously. "Well, uh, there's not much. Quiet town, Sunnydale, and—"
Buffy didn't wait for him to finish pouring. She grabbed him by the neck and slammed his head against the counter. He coughed and spluttered, trying to wriggle out of her grasp, but she held on. The bottle fell out of his hands, forgotten, and smashed on the floor.
"The lady asked you a question," said Buffy. "What's up, eh?"
"There's a wizard!" said the bartender. "He's selling magic—just simple stuff, you know. Fireballs on command, staffs that can turn your opponent into a toad."
Buffy let go of Willy. "How do we find him?"
He fidgeted. Faith leaned closer. He leaned away from her, surprised.
"Finish pouring," she said.
He nodded, grabbing a new bottle. As he poured he swallowed. Faith grabbed the cup, slamming the drink back quickly. "Now, where?" she asked Willy.
"An apartment on the corner of main street—the old Miller building! That's all, I swear!"
Faith's eyes flashed. "Thanks, Willy," she said, pushing the glass back at him. "Put it on my tab."
The two Slayers turned and walked away, leaving the bar a quieter place. As the joint began to relax a tall figure in black robes with a clerical collar around his neck walked in. Willy stared at him.
"Oh, no," muttered Willy.
Gissard was reading a book when Faith kicked his door open. He looked up at her in surprise. She strode into his apartment, grabbing the book and throwing it away.
"What the devil?" he managed to ask before she punched him, her fist slamming into his face and sending him crashing into the wall behind him, spilling him out of the easy chair he was sitting in. The chair spun away, landing on its side with a crash. He landed on his face, gasping in pain.
Buffy entered behind Faith. "Hi, Gissard," she said cheerfully.
Faith grasped him by the back of the neck, picking him up easily. "We hear you've been selling magic to demons."
Buffy grabbed his collar, holding him still. "And we can't help but wonder just why you're doing that."
"Oh, for crying out loud!" he said, astonished. "You're the one who told me to pull my own weight!"
Buffy pushed him backwards just as Faith let go of him. He staggered back, barely holding onto his balance.
"I didn't mean you should start putting weapons in the hands of our enemies!" growled Faith. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen!"
"They're not that powerful!" protested Gissard. "What else do you expect me to do? I've hardly been trained for any profession besides that of wizard!"
Buffy shook her head. "Gee, I don't know. Ask Giles for a job or something!"
"We're working at a fast food joint!" growled Faith. "I mean, we're sacrificing to make this work. Working our brains out every day. What do you do? Sell spells. To demons!"
"They're not all demons!" protested Gissard. "And most of the spells are rather limited. One time use. And my prices are outrageous!"
"And you were planning to tell us when some goober started shooting fireballs at us?" demanded Buffy.
"This is pretty serious, you know," said Faith. "I'm about ready to give him the sack."
Buffy nodded. "I would," she said. "Want to hit him again?"
Faith considered it. Gissard tensed up in anticipation. "I guess not," she said sullenly. "But now I want to hit something."
"Well, let's go, then," said Buffy. "We'll drop by later to deliver your final verdict."
Faith glared at Gissard. "Just remember, you only get one second chance."
As they left Gissard recovered his book, rubbing blood off his chin where he'd scraped it on the floor.
Spike gasped in pain as he set his arm. As the shattered bones came back together he let out a moan, sagging down.
Angelus, who had been awake for a while now, smirked at him. "Oh, that's good, me boy," he mocked. "I don't know how they can resist you much longer."
The demon still hadn't returned with his final task, noted Spike, taking stock. He was healing up slowly, even without blood, but knew another physical challenge was still far beyond him.
The demon returned them, glowering down at Spike. "It is time for your final test," said the demon.
Spike smirked, covering up the fear eating away at him. His right arm was still useless, and would be until he got some good blood into him. "Well, let's do it," he said.
"First, we'll need to get rid of that silicone conscience of yours," said the demon, waving his hand. Spike felt a white-hot pain in his head, and gasped. It tore into his skull, and he could smell something burning.
"Now," said the demon. "The rules of the game are very simple." He waved a hand and a young girl materialized beside Spike. "If you feed on the girl, you'll have proven that you don't truly desire a soul more than anything else."
"More than blood," whispered Angelus. He smirked. "Think you can take that, boy?"
The demon waved his hand at Angelus, and a gag appeared in his mouth. "No interference," he said, sensing that Angelus' words were only goading Spike into doing just what the other vampire didn't think he could do.
As the demon departed, Spike felt his stomach lurch with hunger. He could smell the sweet blood in the girl, and it intoxicated him.
Slowly he leaned back, trying to relax. The demon hadn't said how long this test would last. He needed to be easy about it. Just ignore the warm blood, and focus on Buffy.
The girl moved uneasily, not understanding. She was a girl from one of the neighboring tribes, with ebony skin and dark eyes. In the unlit caves, she was having trouble seeing. She let out a musical string of words in her own language—words Spike couldn't understand.
"Just shut up, love," he grumbled. His stomach fairly burned with hunger now—as much as the rest of his body burned with pain. The burns all over his torso from that git with the flaming hands needed time to heal—and maybe some ointment to dull the pain.
And all he could see was the girl's neck. He could see the faint pulse of jugular, warm blood rushing through the girl's body.
He tried to stifle the hunger. This was the final test, wasn't it? After this, he was all done.
"You speak English?" Her voice was heavily accented, but he could understand it.
"Yeah. Shut up." He had no energy to deal with this, and she was just calling his attention to her all-too-vital body, filled with warm, flowing blood. Hot, sweet blood
Couldn't she just shut up? He tried to concentrate on Buffy.
But that led to thoughts of Faith. And Faith's warm, sweet blood, so intoxicating. The rush was unlike anything he had ever felt before.
"Please, help me," she said. She was trying to move closer to him.
"Don't come any closer!" Stupid kid. Didn't she know what lurked in dark caverns? He wanted to go into game face, to show her the dangers, but he knew that would just excite him. The smells would be sharper—the needs would be darker.
And those idiots back home had accused him of not knowing how to be bad any more—ha! He'd tried to so hard to be good. He'd tried until he felt like crying tears of blood. Which would have been a waste of blood, and he shouldn't be thinking about blood at a time like this.
"Please, a monster, it grabbed me," babbled the girl.
Didn't she realize how close she was to becoming supper? "Shut up!" he snarled. "Stay quiet, and don't move. Maybe we'll both live the night out that way."
Now she was scared, afraid that there was something else in the cave with them. Something dangerous. And there was, wasn't there? The smell of her fear was sweet, and he could feel himself getting lightheaded. The room seemed to be swimming, and the taste of her blood was already in his mouth.
He tried so hard to be good, but it was so hard. Being good only ever got him beat up. Being good meant he couldn't have the blood he needed so badly.
"Sir, please," whispered the girl. She was shivering, and edging closer to him.
"Stay back!" he hissed. She was close enough now that he could hear her heart beating, a wonderful, awful sound that filled him with lust. He started to reach for her, his left arm scrabbling forward, before he realized what he was doing and pulled the hand back.
This was a stupid test. What did it prove, anyway? Only that he had self control.
He didn't have self control. He felt a stab of pain in his right arm as he tried to get up to grab her, and forced himself away from her. "Get back! Get away!" he snarled. She stayed where she was, frozen, and then he couldn't help it any more. He felt his face change, and suddenly he could see her as clearly as if daylight had entered the cave.
His glowing yellow eyes alerted her, and she gasped, scrambling backwards. The scent grew a little fainter, and he backed away from her.
Angelus' eyes went sharply amber at the same time. He glanced at the other vampire, who was also hungry, and snarled at him.
Now the smell of fear flooded the cave, and Spike wanted the blood more than ever.
Why wasn't he drinking the blood? Buffy. He tried to remember Buffy's face as he had last seen it.
All he could think about was Buffy's blood.
He groaned, smashing his hands against his face. A ridged monster's face. That's all he was—a monster. It was nothing but arrogance to think that he could be more.
He staggered to his feet, ignoring the pain, and started for the girl. He was tired of fighting his own nature and only getting disappointment and pain because of it. This was Angel's fight, not his. Let the git fight for his own soul.
And then Spike could feel Angelus' approval. It fairly poured off the elder vampire, feeling like lemon juice in all the wounds Spike was adorned with.
Spike turned, leaping at Angelus, smashing his hands into the prone and bound vampire, slamming blows onto him that would have shattered a weaker being. Angelus moaned under the onslaught, but Spike never let up.
"This is your fault!" screamed Spike, letting all the hatred he felt for the other vampire out. He began using his feet, too, slamming his boots in the helpless vampire.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his back, and lurched forward. The girl, behind him, had a knife out. She had stabbed him in the back. He turned quickly, slapping the knife away before she could do any more damage.
She punched at him, but the blow felt like nothing. It wasn't even a proper blow.
"Oh, for..." He shook his head, forcing his face back to normal. "You call that a punch, love?" He grabbed her arm as she tried again. "You're just trying to hit me, that's all. Not good enough. Your fist stops right here, when it hits me." She stared at him, shocked. "Well, try this, eh? Visualize punching right through me. That's right, try to punch right through me. Come on!"
She swung. The blow wasn't much harder, but it stung, and Spike nodded his approval. "Come on, how'd you get caught? I bet you were out walking in the dark. Didn't your parents ever teach you any better than that? Monsters are real, pet."
"I know," she said. "I was home—safe. And then the monster came in."
Spike shrugged, feeling the bloodlust rising. "Just stay away from the monsters!" he growled.
She backed away from him, recovering her knife as she went, and staring at him. "I'm not so sure you are a monster," she said doubtfully.
He snorted, backing up against the wall. Her blood seemed to fill his senses—the place certainly couldn't become any more blood-drenched if he cut her throat and drank, could it? "I'm a monster, all right. And little girls are my specialty."
The look she gave him was half-covered by the darkness, but he knew it was mostly fear, and somewhat curiosity.
Didn't they know that charm like his was a predator's trick, nothing more? It was just meant to make them feel at ease, so he could get behind them and eat his fill without them noticing. But girls, especially young ones, were always ready to listen to him.
Idiots, all of them.
"How do we get out of here?" she asked fearfully.
"We have to wait for the monster to get back," he replied. "Just sit and wait."
He'd passed the worst of it, he thought. That was when the pain in his stomach sharpened, and he remembered his last meal—a goat, of all things. A foul taste, and not enough blood to be truly filling.
And that just set his mouth to watering in anticipation of his next meal. He liked them young—the taste was unlike anything else. And female, too—that was just in his nature. It was more because females tended to be harmless, and so easily charmed.
And he loved charming harmless things and then killing them. Almost as much as he loved a good fight.
And this line of thought was very clearly not helping. He tried to think about Buffy again. And that only led to thoughts of fighting Buffy—and wondering what she would taste like. She would taste perfect, he was sure, like Faith had tasted.
And he was thinking about blood again. This wasn't going to work—he'd eat her in five seconds at this rate.
He couldn't see any other way out of this. Every minute she was looking more and more appealing.
He turned and lunged at the cave wall, smashing his face into it before he could stop to think about what he was doing. He fell to the ground, unconscious.
When he woke up the demon was there.
He rolled over, groaning. "I didn't eat the girl," he said triumphantly, glancing at the girl, who was asleep. "I want this more than blood! All ready to give it up to me now? Cause I think you owe it to me!"
"Yes," said the demon, obviously angry. He moved closer, raising both hands. "I give you both back...your souls."
He plunged one hand into Spike's chest, and the other into Angelus'.