Disclaimer: The story's mine - the characters aren't

Disclaimer:  The story's mine - the characters aren't.  Neither is Sunnydale, LA, or...well, heaven for that matter.  I'm time-sharing the Oracle's chamber, though - does that count??  Don't sue me.  Please.

Spoilers:  All of it - the whole kit and caboodle.  Every single one of the 100 eps are fair game here (If you haven't seen 'The Gift' yet you may not want to read this)

Distribution:  I'm thinking yeah...as long as I know where it's going beforehand and my name is on it.

Summery:  Spike gets tapped by the Powers That Be to restore the way things should be.  Problem is, Spike doesn't work and play well with others.  He is none too pleased with the PTB's suggestions, either.  S/B eventually, otherwise what's the point?

Rated: R

Note:  "Italicized words" equal mind speech. 

Dedications:  Kelly, I don't have the words to tell you what you mean to me.  You are the reason, and I thank you.  Helen, Trish, and Isabelle – you've all been staunchly supportive, and you deserve a bucketful of gratitude for being patient with my many neurosis.  Thanks. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Eternity Lies In The Balance

Chapter 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Spike's mysterious disappearance, the Scooby Gang had little choice but to head to the hospital.  Xander had been the only one among them lucky enough to escape last night's tragedy without injury, so he carried the unconscious Dawn out of the construction area.  A weak but standing upright Anya had taken one look at the last surviving Summers girl - who had passed out next to the spot that Spike had disappeared from - and decided she wasn't injured enough to need carrying.  An occasional arm to lean on was all that was necessary and she could use Tara and Willow for that.

After being checked out in the emergency room, the doctors told Anya she had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder, not to mention severe contusions on her upper body thanks to the bricks and other various asundry construction materials that had fallen on her.  Surprisingly, the abnormally verbose ex-demon had little to say to the news, just a small "Oh," before demanding information from the doctors on Dawn's condition. 

Xander had been in the room with her when she got the news and was both amazed and proud at the uncharacteristic selflessness of the woman he wanted as his wife.

Willow and Tara were both suffering general, all-over body bruises, but Willow had the added bonus of an irregular heartbeat that the doctors were unable to determine a cause for.  She didn't think it would be in her best interest to go into the possibilities of a 'working big magicks' cause. 

Tara was relatively good, all things considered, besides the bruises she had only a laceration on the back of her head that required a couple of stitches and a re-fracturing of one of the bones in her crushed hand.  The longer she had the use of all her mental functions, the easier it was to cope with what Glory did to her.

Giles was the most stubborn of the group, he refused treatment when he first got to the hospital, demanding instead to deal with all of the matters of Buffy's death immediately, then focusing on Dawn to the exclusion of all else. 

Perhaps it was guilt, guilt for suggesting that Buffy had no choice but to execute her sister if the dimensional walls fell, guilt for reminding Buffy that Dawn wasn't really her sister to begin with, guilt for the knowledge that had it been left in his hands, the outcome of last night's battle would have been vastly different.  Yes, maybe guilt and definitely loss.  But he knew that was why he was the Watcher and Buffy was the Slayer.  And he was so proud of her.  She never failed in her convictions. 

As he had explained to Ben before...well, before he died, Buffy was a true hero.  

After the arduous task of Buffy's paperwork had been completed, a surreal and heartbreaking experience, Giles stayed by Dawn's side with her cold, clammy hand in his until she woke.  Only her insistence that he be checked out immediately once she regained consciousness was enough to pull him from her side.  His spear wound had reopened and was bleeding again.  A couple of staples, a pain pill, and he was back at Dawn's side as if he'd never left.

Dawn appreciated it, too.  She really did.  But she was locked down in pain and couldn't get her mind to go past losing Buffy.  Or losing Spike.

As it turned out, she hadn't collapsed just out of grief and fear.  She had lost a lot of blood from the slices on her stomach before any of the Scoobies noticed she was bleeding.  The dark, voluminous dress had hidden the knife wounds from everyone's view.  It wasn't until Xander reached down to pick up her limp body that he noticed the wet marks and cuts in her clothing.  After that, getting to the hospital had been a burning necessity.  Each and every one of them was determined not to lose anyone else.

Physically they were all recovering, it was the emotional that was the real problem.  They were all in a kind of dazed state.  Reality hadn't quite set in yet. 

The idea that Buffy wasn't going to pop into the magic shop with Dawn in tow to work out a little before class ever again, or that she would no longer be with them when they all went to the Bronze for some R & R, or that she wouldn't worry too much, or take too much on her shoulders, or protect them, or fight for them, or fight beside them any more - none of that had really registered with any of them yet, except Dawn.  And Dawn desperately wished she could be numb too. 

She lay in her hospital bed, staring at the ceiling tiles and grieving for her sister in silence.  When the pain of that tragic loss became too much to bear she turned her thoughts to the vanished Spike and grieved a different loss.  Different, but no less painful for the difference. 

Wherever he had been taken, she sincerely wished he could hold on until the group could mount a rescue attempt.  The one thing she was sure of was that they would mount a rescue attempt.  Even if she had to force every single one of the gang to do it. 

She hadn't told anyone, not even Buffy, but she loved Spike.  Not in that teen crush kind of way like Buffy thought, but in the big brother that's so cool I want to be just like him (except for the being a vampire) kind of way.  They would get him back.  She needed him.  They needed each other.

"Please don't give up, Spike," she whispered softly, too softly to be heard by the hovering Giles.  "We're coming."

*************

In another dimension, Spike stared hard at the two Oracles clutching his shoulders.  His brow lowered in a speculative frown and he looked back and forth between the two of them. 

They had said there was another way to get Buffy back but had fallen silent quickly thereafter, an identical faraway look on their faces.  Basically, the lights were on but no one was home.  It made Spike distinctly uncomfortable, especially as they hadn't deigned to release him before their joint mental siesta.  He squirmed.

After a couple of minutes dragged out into more like ten, Spike could no longer contain his irritation.  "Hel-lo!" he said loudly, waving a hand in front of each of the sibling's faces.  "Kinda waitin' to see what's behind door number two, here!"

Realizing that he wasn't going to get a response, the fed up vampire shoved the Oracles' arms off of him - none too gently, either - and took several steps back.  It didn't take a genius to see they were communicating with someone, or something, but patience had never been one of Spike's strong suits and he was already feeling rather wired from the need to get back to Dawn. 

He leaned back against a pillar and reached into his coat pocket for his ever-present pack of smokes.  Lighting up in the barren room seemed wrong somehow, but then again, that's what he liked about it.  He took a deep drag and cocked his head to stare through the haze of smoke at the odd pair across from him.

It wasn't until he was midway through his third cigarette that the Oracles came back from wherever they had been.  Spike had gotten bored in the interim and was walking around the room - searching for an exit, really - and hadn't noticed the Oracles mental return.

"Put that out now!"

The mental demand was such a surprise that Spike jumped, dropped the cigarette, and spun to face the Oracles all in one quick move.  His game face emerged, courtesy of a surge of startled adrenaline.  The golden eyes of the demon glared in hostility at the two entities and he growled at the sister. 

"Christ, woman, give a bloke some warnin' next time, why dontcha?!"

The sister stepped forward, not even slightly cowed by the appearance of the vampire features.  "I most certainly will not!  What, exactly, did you think you were doing?"

Spike simmered, but kept a hold on his temper.  Whether he liked it or not, he was at the mercy of these two poofs.  He shook his game face off and shrugged.  "Gettin' bloody well bored, that's what."

Sister and brother looked at each other.  The seriousness in their expressions drew Spike's attention away from his irritation and he waited to hear what was to come.

"I doubt that boredom will be an issue much longer," said the sister.

The brother turned back to Spike.  "The other way we referred to has been approved by the Powers."

Spike waited to hear what he needed to do, a little anxious at the grave vibes being given off by the multi-colored pair.  And he waited.  And then, just because it seemed like a good idea - and because they didn't seem all too willing to jump in with the explanations - he waited some more.

"I am not convinced the vampire will be able to do this," the brother mind-spoke to his sister while Spike stared at them, growing more and more impatient.

"Neither am I," came the mental response, "but it is what we must offer.  The Powers have decided to allow this.  It is not our job to question their reasoning."

"We will have to tell him everything.  He must make his own choice."

"Yes," she thought, and there was a sad sound in her mind's voice when she added, "and somehow I think willingness may be a problem."

"You two wanna quit that mental mumbo jumbo and tell me what the other way is?  'Cuz I gotta tell you, rude is not the way to get me to cooperate."  Spike was finished with being patient, finished with the feeling of being stretched out over hot coals while he waited for possible salvation from the hell that Buffy's death put him in.

The Oracles took just enough time for a gentle, supportive mental caress to pass between them and they started to explain.

The sister took the initiative and spoke first.  "You have been granted access to the realm that the Slayer now resides in." 

"Once there," said the brother, "you will have to find her."

"Once you find her," the sister continued, "you will have to convince her to go back."

"If and when she agrees to go back," the brother spoke again, "she will come here."

"We will return her to her body moments after her fall," said the sister.

"And the Powers will allow life to be returned to her." They said in unison.

From what Spike could tell so far, he was liking this plan a lot better than the previous one but he wanted to make sure of one thing. 

"So, if I get her to come back, Buffy lives AND Dawn lives, right?  'Cuz I'm not doin' it if Dawn doesn't make it."

The Oracles actually smiled for the first time since coming back from their conference with the Powers. 

"That is so," assured the sister.

"Time will be returned to just after the Slayer's sacrifice," the brother told him.

"Both will be alive."  Again, they finished as one.

Nothing else was important to Spike, that's all he needed to hear.  "I'll do it."

Once his mind was made up, the anxiety and anguish he was feeling vanished.  As soon as those feelings were gone, though, curiosity got the better of him.  "You said Buffy's in a different 'realm'?  What's that all about?  What realm is she in?"

The Oracles' relief at the vampire's quick decision to help was short-lived.  They were bound by their duty to tell him everything, but they knew that once he heard the whole of it he might not be as willing.  Glancing quickly at each other and sighing mentally as one, the brother answered Spike.

"The realm the Slayer is in has no name."

"But it has been called many things throughout time," added the sister.

"Many voices call out to it in many tongues," the brother said.

"And many souls have traveled the span of millennia to reach it," said the sister.

"It is everything and nothing.  It is everywhere and nowhere." As one their voices blended together.  "An infinite multitude of words for the same space.  It is has been known as Garden of the Hesperides, Valhalla, Walhall, Alfardaws, Assama, Falak al aflak, Elysium, Elysian fields, Arcadia, T'ien, Olympus, Zion, Utopia, Abode of the Blessed, Celestial Bliss, Paradise..."

Spike listened in growing horror, knowing what was coming and desperately wishing he could stop the flow of words from their mouths.  If they didn't say it, it couldn't be real.  If they stopped now it wasn't true.  He would still be all right if they just...stopped.  But they didn't stop.  And the tone in their blended voices grew deeper, penetrating his body and mind until he didn't know from which direction he was being assailed.  His stomach clenched, his muscles trembled in tightening agony, and his jaw hurt from the pressure he was inflicting on it with clenched teeth.  Still the words came.

"...and the one you are probably most familiar with, Spike, the one term that is known world wide in your dimension is...Heaven."

They said it.  They actually said it.  And nothing would ever be the same for Spike again.  Wide-eyed and slack jawed he stood for a long minute and just...stared.  Not even at them, really, just stared.  Finally making the cramped muscles of his legs work, he took a jerky step, followed by another and another until he was walking woodenly to the black steps that led up to the domed arch.  The Oracles, who had been standing in front of him, moved out of his way.  No one spoke; the siblings knew that enough had already been said.  Spike would need time to digest what he'd heard. 

Spike, not privy to their thoughts, just happened to share them.  He knew he needed time to work through what had just been dropped on him with all the subtlety of a napalm blast.  Just a little time, like maybe a decade or two.  He sunk down on the steps and sat, elbows on his knees and face in his hands.  His mind was a tempest-tossed sea of garbled thoughts and issues.  For the first time since realizing the wonder twins could read his thoughts, he didn't care in the least if they did.  Maybe they'd help him figure out what he was thinking.  Suddenly, Spike felt very, very alone.  Hidden behind his hands, his eyes squeezed tightly shut to block out the additional sensory input.  He needed to think.

Heaven.  They want me to go to soddin' heaven.  That's a bloody first, lemme tell ya.  Hell...yeah, I get that a lot.  But 'Go to heaven'?  Definitely a new one on Spike.  The Powers have granted a vampire access to heaven.  Guess it's clear they're not playin' with a full deck.  Can't touch a cross without gettin' third degree burns?  Holy water eats through you like acid?  Can't enter a church without a major case of the wigglies?  Don't worry, mate, we're sendin' you to heaven!!  That's rich, is what that is.  Just.  Bloody.  Rich. 

Spike's thoughts started to border on hysterical but he was left alone to go there.  The Oracles left him to it.  They weren't reading his mind.  Knowing the only way that the vampire could survive in the other realm was on sheer determination and strength of will alone, it was vital that Spike find it within himself to foster those things.  And it wouldn't be right to eavesdrop while he did it, or didn't do it as the case may be.

You know what's funny, mate?  Two years ago you thought the worst thing that could ever happen to you was Dru leavin' you for a fungus demon.  Ain't that a bleedin' riot?  Now look at you. 

Been a circuitry-enhanced lab rat, hunted almost to starvation by the government commandos, had to turn to your mortal enemy to save your sorry ass - and she did it out of soddin' pity, and you know how you love to be pitied, especially by those wanker friends of hers, who are all more blindly pathetic then you are.  Then...oh yeah, this is a hoot, this is the best part...you go to bed one night all set to find a way to shuck the Slayer of her mortal coil after havin' your head cut open - thinkin' you were getting' the chip yanked only to find out it wasn't - and you are ripped from a nightmarish dream where your mortal enemy somehow, through some sick, twisted, sadistic, masochistic, flip of fuckin' fate, became the woman you loved. 

What the bloody hell was that all about, eh? 

And it gets worse.  When you woke up, you found out not only was the bitch of a dream true, but that you had loved the stupid bint for a long-assed time.  Plus, one other tiny little detail, she loathes you.  A lot.  Barrel of hilarity, right?  So you turn into a lovesick poofta who can't even watch her fight without steppin' in to lend a hand so she doesn't get killed.  Meanwhile, she's treatin' you like somethin' she needs to wipe off the bottom of her shoes.

And hey, let's not leave out the skank-ho Hell-God from the bitch dimension who was all hot and bothered to turn the Slayer's kid sis into a faint memory. 

So...you've been spurned by the Slayer, laughed at by her merry misfits, tortured nearly to death by the poorest excuse for a supreme bein' you've ever seen, workin' with people who hate you because of the person you love.  And you thought Dru with a fungus demon was bad? 

No sir, not even a blip on the 'bad' radar. 

Glory winnin', that would have been bad.  Nibblet dying, that would have been bad.  Watchin' Buffy slip into a catatonic state and not being able to do anything but watch, that was bad.  Realizin' the people that you thought you hated, Buffy's friends, those merry misfits, had at some point and through the shared traumas become...important to you, that was bad. 

And what's the worst?  Because you know it has nothin' to do with your ex, mate.  What's the very worst for you now?  Buffy's death.  That was the worst, the very worst.  That's...as bad as it gets.  Buffy's dead.  She's dead.  The woman you love is gone...Buffy...

Spike's thoughts started to slow as his spent emotions calmed.  He felt wetness on his hands and cheeks and realized he'd been crying, probably for a while.  Was he crying for himself or Buffy?  Maybe a little of both.

Emotions were tricky things, they clogged up the pathways used by logic and thought, preventing anything coherent from getting through.  Spike's not-so-little rant had at least served to free up some space for his mind.  It was time, now, to get past the pain, for really, that's what the histrionics were about.  Lashing out at himself for Buffy's death.  Flogging himself with the bad times in the hopes of forgetting why he loved her so much - for then maybe he wouldn't mourn her so deeply. 

The problem with that was when you focus so hard on the bad, the good gets forgotten.  And he'd come too far, changed too much, to ever want to let go of the good, no matter how much it hurt. 

Like Buffy coming to him with her mum and Dawn in tow, telling him he was the only one strong enough to protect them.  That had felt so good to hear.  Or sitting on her back porch for hours with her next to him, being trusted enough to talk to, to be told what was wrong with Joyce.  To be let in, even a little, on her life.  To be able to offer a little comfort.  That had really meant something. 

The kiss, Lord, that kiss.  So tender and gentle.  He'd gladly go through a dozen more torturing sessions with Glory for the brush of those lips just once more.  Spike didn't know what he enjoyed more, though, the kiss, or Buffy's words after.  And after that, he had been let back in to the group.  Felt needed, if not always wanted. 

The best was being re-invited into her home.  And being entrusted with her sister's safety.  That had meant everything to him.  Her friends got a warning, if they tried to harm Dawn, Buffy would kill them, but Spike got, "I'm counting on you to protect her."  That's about as big as you can get.  

And the good times didn't just revolve around Buffy, either.  Willow caring about his pain when Tara inadvertently caused some sun sizzle in the RV, that was nice.  He'd appreciated that.  Or even Xander, lighting his cigarette when his own hands were too damaged to do it.  Not asking, just doing it, just helping.  Dawn, sweet little Nibblet, just about everything she did was kind.  Joyce too, before...well before she died. 

It was when he thought about Joyce's death that Spike started to realize something, as bad as it ever was for him, it had always been worse for Buffy.  The burdens of being the Slayer, her mum getting sick, finding out Dawn was some mystical key thing and not really her sister, losing Riley, losing her mum, fighting so hard not to lose Dawn.  And yeah, having to deal with him, he hadn't made it easy on her, either.

Now she was dead. 

But that meant something else.  She was at peace.  Her struggles were over, her pain gone.  The stress he had watched building to a crescendo, the agony over not being strong enough to stop Glory, the grief over all of her losses.  All of that was gone.  It must be, because that's what heaven was.  And that's where she was. 

That's why the Oracles had said he would need to convince her to leave there.  She had found eternal happiness.  Who would ever want to leave that, especially after the hell she went through in her short life.  How could he go to her and ask her to come back and pick up all the old pain?  Is that fair?  Is that right?  Yes, he wanted her alive, to just not be dead, but she had made a tremendous sacrifice out of love and in doing so had earned the right to be where she was now, to be happy.

The question became, how much did he really love her?  Did he love Buffy enough to let her go, or was he still too selfish?  Was he man or monster?  Did his wants and desires matter more to him than hers? 

It's never easy to let a loved one go when you know you could make them cling to life, humans went through that kind of dilemma all the time, it wasn't just a soul/no soul line in the sand, either.  Fully soul-equipped people faced the same exact questions, and not all of them chose wisely.

And then, Spike's decision was made for him.  He couldn't do it.  He loved Buffy too much to knowingly put her through the kind of hell he'd seen her go through this past year.  Spike inhaled deeply - on purpose, of course, as he didn't need to breathe - and ran tired hands over his face and through his hair.  With all of the dignity he could muster, he rose to his feet, straightened out his duster, and turned to the Oracles who were watching him.  Waiting patiently.

"You're goin' to misunderstand my reasons," he said in a low, calm voice.  "And frankly, I'm okay with that.  I know my reasons and it's enough.  I'm not goin'.  I'm not doin' that to her.  I saw what she went through these past few months, few years if you want to put it rightly.  She's paid her dues.  She's fulfilled her obligation to you people.  Leave her alone.  Let me go home and mourn the lady in peace, let me take care of the only piece of her I've got left."

The Oracles saw his sincerity, waltzed through his mind once again and read his pain, saw his sacrifice for what it was.  It didn't, however, change anything.  They looked at each other, and Spike saw them nod in what appeared to be resignation.  They walked up the stairway like the burden of eternal life was too much to bear. 

Together, and without turning to look at him, they said, "Follow us."

Spike thought they were letting him go, thought that it was over.  They had conceded.  He was wrong.

The brother and sister reached the top step and moved to stand on each side of the pool that was carved into the stone at their feet.  They pointed down into the water's reflection and looked at him.  "Watch," they said.

At first he didn't see anything but the wavy reflections of the Oracles themselves, but then the top of the inky surface rippled slightly.  He saw what looked to be Sunnydale, or what was once Sunnydale.  It was now a dead and decaying city.  Evil lurked in the shadows and darkness had claimed it as its own.  Spike didn't know what to say to such a bleak possibility.

"Not possibility," the sister interrupted his thoughts, "fact.  This is the town you live in exactly three years to the day from when Buffy died."

"The pool before you is the called the Waters of Time and Space," said the brother.  "It allows us to track the progress of dimensional realities."

"What you see there is what will happen if the Slayer does not return," they told him.

The sister moved her hand and the image shifted, it was a wider view of most of the western United States.  Large, angry, red splotches were everywhere, from the heartland states westward.  Mixed between the red were circles of obsidian black.  As he watched, more and more red splotches popped up, and more and larger circles of blackness.

"You are seeing time progress, five years, seven, ten, thirteen years," said the sister, sorrow in her voice.

Spike saw the darkness expanding, watched as red popped up, flared briefly, and went black.  Only very occasionally did it flare and go back to normal.  "What's this supposed to mean?"

"In simplest terms, it is the end of the world," the brother said, matching the sadness in his sister's tone.

"Wait a bloody second.  Buffy died.  A new Slayer is called, that's how it works.  Where's the Chosen One through all this?" 

Spike didn't like what he was seeing, but he still wasn't sure why this should be Buffy's responsibility.  She had already 'been there, done that' with the end of the world stuff - several times.

The Oracles, who looked to be drawing closer and closer to tears as the world died, raised watery eyes to look at him. 

"There are two problems there," said the sister.

"First of all," the brother sighed, "Buffy was not your typical Slayer, as you have mentioned you know."

"Secondly," the sister kept turning pages and each one was worse than the last, the bad guys were gaining a lot of ground fast, "she has already died once.  Another Slayer was called then."

A quick tilt of the brother's head and his eyes narrowed slightly.  "And if I remember correctly, your girlfriend killed that one."

Spike winced at the mention of Dru.

"And then the other was called.  Faith, I believe, though definitely a misnomer. She was...less than satisfactory."  There was scorn and derision in the sister's voice.

"Until she dies," the brother smiled to his sister's mind, neither one of them had liked Faith, "there will not be another Slayer called.  And as she is currently in prison, that may be a while."

"Balance will be upset," the sister had continued to flip through time at the scenes reflecting there, "and in less than thirty years..."

The Oracles spoke as one and pointed to the scene below them, "this will be the result."

Spike stared hard at what he saw; it disgusted him.  Carnage of such a scale as to be indescribable, destruction of the world.  Demons, true Hell demons roamed the earth, consuming anything and everything in its path.  Light was gone, darkness reigned supreme.  Life was extinguished.  Nothing was left.

"Now you know..." said the sister.

"Why we need to get the Slayer back," the brother finished.

"She is not just the Chosen One," the sister spoke again.

As one, and with an additional mental push, they told Spike, "She is The Chosen One.  The keeper of the balance.  Our only hope.  Your only hope."

It was too much for Spike to take in.  The viciousness he witnessed was unimaginable even for a creature that had fed on humans for over a hundred years.  What he saw made his own evil ways seem pleasant by comparison.  It numbed him.  It hurt him.  It forced a choice he didn't want to make.

Spike no longer had any illusions about what Buffy had gone through when she sent Angel to hell after he had used Acathla.  He had a complete understanding of what she felt when she threw herself off the tower and into the doorway between dimensions.  He couldn't let what he had seen come to pass.  It was his turn to sacrifice.  

The words that fell from Spike's lips were somber and final.  "I'll do it."

Once spoken, the Oracles wanted to make sure the words were not reneged once more. 

"You say you will do it," said the sister.

"But do you fully understand the price you pay if you fail?" the brother finished.

"And do you understand the price you pay if you succeed?" from the sister again.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered in frustration.  "I get it.  Bloody prices to be had all around.  I said I'd do it.  When do start?"

The siblings looked at each other.  They were left standing in the unique position of uncharted territory.  What the vampire was getting ready to do had never been done before, not just by a vampire, but by anyone.  No one had even thought of trying this before.  It left them feeling very nervous, another first for them.

"The realm you are going to will not accept you, Spike." The brother tried to go into greater detail.

"It will resist your presence and defend itself against you," added the sister.

"Violently defend itself," clarified the brother.

Spike tossed his hands up in frustration at the cadence of their speech and their endless repetition. 

"First off," he practically snarled, "do you think you could stop with the bleedin' back and forth talk?  Making my bleedin' neck hurt! From now on, if you start a sentence, bloody well finish it!  Secondly, I heard you the first few times just fine, I'm not mentally challenged, ya know.  I go to this...other realm.  Being a vampire with no soul, the place doesn't much like me so it will try to destroy me.  I convince Buffy to leave the peace and serenity she's found and deserves, she decides to go back to the fighting and war and death and - poof! - she's back in her body after she jumped off the tower.  Fight over; hero types win.  Buffy lives.  Dawn lives.  Balance restored.  Now, will you answer my soddin' question and tell me when I start?"

Practically bursting with hyperactivity, Spike started to pace around the marble and stone room.  The Oracles watched pensively.

"Do you want me to tell him, sister?"

"No, brother, I will do it."

"Spike," she started slightly when he spun around in full vamp mode to stare at her.  She hadn't noticed the switch and it startled her slightly.  Once under control, she continued.  "If you survive the realm and make it to Buffy and convince her to leave, you...well, you will die, Spike.  The Powers have only the power to grant you admittance; they have no control over the realm.  And this has never been done before, with anyone.  No one has ever left the realm after fully entering, some have dallied shortly on the outer fringes, only to return to their bodies, but none went fully inside.  The realm will not let you go for getting Buffy out of there.  And if you make it to her and you do not convince her, it will still destroy you for trying.  It is your nature.  To it you are an enemy."

Spike blinked those golden eyes of his slowly twice, then pushed the demon back.  He stared at the Oracles with something very close to hatred in his eyes.  He did hate them, but not for sending him to Buffy.  For needing Buffy to go back at all.  He hated that it would all be on her shoulders again.  And next time, he wouldn't be there to help.  Suddenly he was very glad Buffy had her sister and the Scoobies in her life.

"So, this is a one way ticket to paradise?" He said, cloaking himself in a casually sardonic attitude.  He tilted his head and sent a pure sexually heated glance at the sister to fluster her.  Judging by her expression it worked rather well.  One corner of his mouth curved up slightly and he half sneered, half grinned at both of them.  "Hmmm, now why am I suddenly so not surprised?"

For once, the Oracles had nothing to say.

"Right then," said Spike, shrugging his shoulders a bit as if he hadn't a care in the world.  "Let's do this."

With a wave of their hands, a doorway opened to Spike's right with a flash of light and mist.  Once the light dimmed and the mist cleared, Spike walked to the opening and peered in to the other side.  What he saw made him frown.  It was the single most barren wasteland he had ever seen.  Craggy mountains in the distance blotted out the blood red sky, fissures in the dry, baked valley released steam and other noxious smelling chemicals into the air.  There was no green, no life, nothing peaceful or tranquil at all. 

Spike pulled his head back and shot a confused look at the Oracles.  "I thought you said this was heaven, paradise."

"It is, Spike," the brother said with a look vaguely resembling sympathy, "but you are a vampire.  You should know, there is no heaven, no paradise for vampires."

That was a fact that was becoming abundantly clear to Spike.  He took one more look into the hostile landscape in front of him and stepped in.  The walls closed silently behind him.

TBC