Title: The Sacrifice (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 14)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN,

Fox... Just Borrowing.

Summary: Spike is mortally wounded and alone after a visit from

Drusilla. Drusilla is caught by Gwydion. Buffy makes a sacrifice

to help Spike and waits for the sunrise in hopes it will save him.

The Sacrifice

Drusilla crept back into the house unnoticed, or so she thought.

She tiptoed like a child fearing being caught peeking at her

Christmas presents.

"Drusilla?" the polished, perfect, voice sounded from a darkened

corner. He stepped into the soft lamp light in front of the

frightened girl.

"Y..yes."

"Where have you been, my dear girl?" Gwydion asked, stepping into

her path.

Drusilla thought a moment. "Been to see Spike."

"And what did you see, little one?"

"Death," Drusilla muttered.

"Did you speak?"

"Yes."

"About?"

"Love."

"Do you love him still, dear?"

"Yes," she answered. "But our time has passed."

"Did you..."

"No," she answered, reading his thoughts. "He tastes like ashes."

Gwydion stared at the dark girl for a long moment before nodding her

dismissal. Slowly, Drusilla glided out of the room as if she walked

upon the air.

*****

"Buffy?"

Buffy was pacing back and forth across the baby's room. Not long

after their return, Emma had erupted into hysterical screams,

uncharacteristic terror for the most content child alive. Emma was

cradled against Buffy's chest as the woman silently stalked the

room.

"Buffy?"

"Get.Out." she hissed at him. Angel stood in the doorway looking

hurt, confused, guilty.

"Buffy, I..."

"You what?" she snapped. All semblance of rational thought had

disappeared when she felt Spike's blood crawl across her fingers.

When she had seen his eyes blankly stare at her face.

"I had no... I didn't mean to.."

"To what, Angel?"

"I..."

"To kill him?" she asked, her voice laced with fear and rage.

"Buffy, he may not be dead."

"No thanks to you."

"It *was* an accident."

"An accident," Buffy whispered, the tears starting again. "An

accident," she repeated.

"It was.."

"Regardless," she said, fighting off tears, "you might just have

destroyed us tonight, so forgive me if I am not feeling very

forgiving."

"I didn't mean.."

"Mean to take away her father? Mean to break my heart? Again?"

Fire and ice battled in her voice.

"Buffy..."

"Get.Out." Buffy said, flatly.

"Right. I'll go down to the basement and we'll..."

"Get out of the house. Go home. Live your... unlife. I'll take

care of this myself," Buffy ordered, not thinking, just reacting.

"I promised Spike that...."

"Lot of good that'll do now,:" Buffy snapped. She breathed deeply,

still pacing along the carpet, the crying baby against her chest.

Fear and anger and hurt controlled her now. "Look," she said, in a

forced moment of sanity, "please go before either of us say things

we can't take back."

"Buffy, I *am* sorry."

"Please," Buffy said, sobbing now, her shaking body matching her

daughter's. Her sadness dropped on Angel like a brick. Slowly, he

turned to go.

*****

Spike laid there in the darkness, the candle flames flickering

against the wall, creating long, thin shadows. He watched the

shadows because he thought that if he closed his eyes, he may not

have the energy to open them again. The bleeding had stopped , but

he could feel the sticky substance of life and of death all around

him. The wound was pulling tight. So there were still healing

powers. Still, he thought, too little too late.

He thought about trying to get up. To find something to clean off

the mess, but his insides felt torn in two and his head felt as if

it were made of lead. Moving seemed... impossible.

Spike watched the candle flicker against the wall. He had died once

before alone. He did not care to do it again.

*****

A slight knock came at Emma's door. "Buffy?"

Buffy stood at the window, leaning against the frame. Spike always

stood here with Emma. She could feel him here. Emma was in an

uneasy sleep in her arm. The baby whimpered and moaned, wriggling

as if every bad dream had descended upon her all at once. Seven

fairies still stood sentry on the sill, but they did not flutter or

dance. They sat quietly, wings folded n the dying moonlight. Not

much longer until dawn.

"Buffy?"

Buffy turned her exhausted, tear stained face toward the voice at

the door. Tara stood, Willow shadowing her. She was holding a

small, leather knapsack. "Yeah," Buffy muttered, not moving from

the spot.

Tara stepped gently into the room, setting the bag on the recliner.

"I packed up some medical supplies. Well, Willow did. Stuff we

found around here. You have a lot."

"Occupational hazard," Buffy commented, trying to smile.

Tara's faced stilled, became serious. "I..I know that you... and

Spike.. aren't big fans of magic..."

"No... no... no bringing people back," Buffy said quietly, her

tears starting again. Sometimes she felt like a fountain.

"No," Tara responded, shaking her head. "Nothing like that."

Slowly, Tara slid two bottles from the knapsack. One red. One

blue. "These are... potions.. that I made. No dark magic. Mostly

just herbal medicines with a little... Goddess juice," she

continued smiling. Buffy furrowed her brow. "Think of it as white

magic. Booster. The blue bottle goes on the wound itself once it

has been cleaned. It should help seal it off."

Buffy looked at Tara uneasily, but nodded in understanding.

"The red one," Tara continued, holding it up in the soft lamplight,

"is a little stronger. It's an infusion of herbs and a little

magic, mixed in blood."

Buffy jumped a bit. "What blood?"

"The regular," Tara said, smiling softly. "From the fridge."

"Oh," Buffy muttered. "Should it be... you know... should you

use..?"

"Yours?" Tara asked, reading her face more than her thoughts.

"Slayer blood is the strongest, but the infusion takes too much.

Spike would never want..."

Buffy walked to Tara. "But some would help?"

Tara looked worried, not sure how to answer. Draining Buffy was

wrong on so many levels. Not to mention that if Spike survived, he

was likely to chastise Tara into the ground. For a moment, she

considered chuckling at that thought. "Technically, yes, but this

should do just fine. It's not a cure, Buffy. It's just going to

help him... recharge. It won't last. Just a few hours. Hopefully

we can find a doctor in the meantime."

"But my blood would help?" Emma shifted in her mother's arms,

crying out softly. Buffy patted her back instinctively, pulling the

baby tighter against her.

"Y...yes."

Buffy looked down at Emma's pretty face. Felt her skin. Toyed with

her little fingers. I have to do something, Buffy thought. I left

him alone there to die. Softly, Buffy kissed the top of Emma's head

and motioned to Willow. Willow stepped silently from the doorway

and gently took Emma from Buffy. "Let's go," Buffy said softly,

grabbing Tara's hand.

*****

They stood face to face in the bathroom, the red bottle and a candle

set between them on the cold marble countertop. Tara's eyes were

closed and she was chanting softly, passing an athame back and forth

through the flame. Buffy thought she should be scared, or at least

nervous, but instead, she felt only a faint numbness and resolution.

Tara's eyes flickered opened and she took Buffy's hand in hers,

slowly turning it until the soft light skin of her inner arm

glistened in the candlelight. Buffy nodded and Tara drew the knife

across Buffy's wrist in one quick stroke. Her blood bubbled to the

surface in a neat, red line, pooling along her skin. Tara softly

turned her arm again, allowing Buffy's very essence to drip softly

into the bottle.

Buffy closed her eyes. There was no pain. No worry greater than

her love for Spike and their daughter. In that moment, it dawned on

her that no sacrifice was too great. She squeezed her hand into a

fist and felt the blood pump steadily from the wound. Instead of

feeling drained, Buffy felt as if she were filling. Filling with

hope, determination, resolve, love. She could save him.

*****

The first rays of the sun began to peak over the horizon in shades

of pink and amber and gold. Buffy was packing everything back into

the knapsack, her arm neatly bandaged and cared for by Tara.

"Buffy," Tara began. "He has to drink the whole bottle. All of it.

It will only help for a few hours. A bit longer with your blood.

It won't do anything if he's already...."

"I know," Buffy said, not wanting to hear it said. She lifted the

knapsack over her shoulder.

"Since it is daylight, Willow and I are going to go find a doctor

who might know something about..."

"Start with the nurse who delivered Emma," Buffy said.

"Xander will stay with Dawn. Anya's still trying to track down

Giles."

"Track down?"

"She called for hours and finally got a hold of a woman."

"A woman?" This was no time to deal with Giles' personal life.

"A woman. Said he was on sabbatical. Some sort of vision quest or

something."

"Well, ask her to keep trying," Buffy said. Dawn came in the room

and took her niece from Willow, freeing the two women to leave on

their mission. Buffy stared out the window, the first few rays of

the sun burning into the morning sky. "I have to go," she said

solemnly. She walked to Dawn touching her face. "I love you. You

know that."

Dawn nodded, teary eyed.

"Take care of her. We'll be back soon." Buffy leaned down, kissing

Emma's forehead, then turned away at a run through the door.

To be contd.