Title: Salvation (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 15)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox...Just Borrowing.

Summary: Buffy leaves to try and save Spike. Gwydion's plan is back in

action. Dawn makes a discovery.

Salvation

As Buffy jogged down the sidewalk, the golden orb of the sun made its true appearance in the sky ahead of her. It seemed she was always running. That she never had enough moments lying in her bed or nights curled around him. It was always running. Always fighting. Always struggling. This was her life. Only thing that made it bearable was that it wasn't just hers anymore. This was about all of them. Every last one. But especially Emma. And especially Spike. Why had it taken so long to see that?

*****

"Gwydion?" Simon said quietly, entering his master's chambers.

"Yes, Simon," Gwydion answered, fastening his cufflinks and reviewing his reflection in the mirror. A reflection he hadn't seen for over a century.

"The new informant came to tell us that Buffy left her home at the first

rays."

"Did you ask about this child?" Gwydion asked, combing his silky, sandy

hair.

"The child was not with her. There are others in the house though. The

witch and the shamed one left shortly after the Slayer. The sister and at least one other are still inside."

"And Angel?"

"I do not know, sir. A guard saw him leave late last night, but no one

seems to know if he has returned."

Gwydion chuckled. "Proud little Slayer just made the task at hand that much easier," he said, softly smiling.

"Sir?"

"Angel killed her mate. Rather than continue to accept his protection, her rashness won her over. She excused him."

"Her mate?"

"Spike," Gwydion commented, his voice full of annoyance.

"Pardon, sir, but I thought..."

"Will *any* of you understand the *simple* concept that he was attempting to play us?" Gwydion sighed, exasperated. "Spike belongs to the Slayer. He has no intention of betraying her. His death is... fortunate."

"Are you certain he is dead?"

"Well," Gwydion said, shrugging slightly, "even if he lives, he will be of no use today. After the child is dead, he is merely an embarrassment to the breed. Though I *am* dreadfully sorry that I will miss seeing his face as he watches me murder his precious little girl." With that, Gwydion turned on a heel, brushed past Simon and started out into the day.

*****

Buffy fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before unlocking the door of the Magic Box and pushing her way through with a jingle. She locked the door carefully behind her and raced though the darkened, silent shop and down the basement stairs.

The trip through the basement, the maze of tunnels below, seemed to take an eternity, even at a supernatural pace. Her concern had turned into desperation and her heart was exploding in her chest. She needed to be there last night. She needed to get there now. She dreaded what she would find when she arrived.

Finally, she reached the back door to the crypt, opening it softly with a muted click. The room was dimly lit, a solitary near-dead candle flickering on the table next to the bed. Buffy followed the weak stream of light across to the pillows.

What she saw was not something she would soon forget.

Buffy raced to the bed. Spike was lying there, arms still at his sides.

His face was white and sunken. He didn't move. Not even a twitch. Her

hand clapped over her mouth as the tears stung her face. "Spike?" she

whispered, touching his hand. It was cold. She had forgotten when his

touch was this cold. "Spike?" She pressed her fingers hard to the inside of his wrist. Nothing. The panic began to creep in, bubbling though her veins. She adjusted her fingers and squeezed again.

It was there.

Spike was alive.

Quickly, Buffy pulled open the drawer by the bed and it clattered to the

floor. She rummaged through, even as it still fell, and grabbed two

candles, lighting them from the one left next to the bed.

In the light, the sight was worse.

Spike was unnaturally pale. Even for Spike. He wore a sad expression. Her eyes scanned down his body, visually examining him just as he had done for her when she'd escaped from hell into this very spot. His shirt was soaked with blood. It spidered out along the sheets, spreading and pooling like mercury spilled from broken glass. Buffy forced down the sobs, shook the panic, and grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands, ripping his shirt end to end. She pulled the tattered material aside terrified of what she would find.

On his right side, just below his ribs, was an enormous jagged gash, half the length of her forearm and so deep she couldn't fathom surviving it even with her own healing powers. The edges of the wound were knitting together quickly. So he did have some accelerated recovery, she thought. Still. This was.. this was horrible.

Buffy wet a cloth with a bottle of water from the make shift medical kit and laid it across his forehead. "It'll be OK, Spike," she whispered, over and over, hoping that if she said it enough times, it might just be true. She swallowed her terror and revulsion and set to work wiping all the blood from his skin so that she could get a better look at the wound.

"Jeez, Spike," she said quietly as she worked her way around the edges with an antiseptic. "Can't do anything half way can you?" Her fingers worked gently, one cleaning the wound, the other stroking his hand. "Can't just die, hafta be a vampire. Can't just be a vampire, hafta be the Big Bad. Can't just be the Big Bad, hafta fall in love. Can't just fall in love, hasta be the Slayer. Can't just be in love with the Slayer, hasta love you back. Can't just love each other, hafta have prophesy baby. Can't just get in a fight, have to go get stabbed and try to die. Well, Spike," Her panic rambled senselessly across her lips, "Not going to let you go back to square one. You want it all, gonna hafta be here for it." Buffy fished the blue bottle from the knapsack, closing her eyes and wrapping her hands tight around the blue glass. She hoped, prayed, with every ounce of her energy that this would work. Buffy uncapped the bottle, pouring the foul smelling liquid into the wound, spreading it along the edges, delicately working around the livid skin. Her heart sank further by the moment. He never even flinched.



"Come on, Spike," she whined. Where was Dawn when you needed a good

whining? She slowly covered the wound in gauze, taping the edges

delicately, "There are demons to be fought. Arguments to have. Lots and lots of making up to do. You have to help me out here, you...." Buffy thought hard. What would really get under his skin? "You Wanker," she said, pressing the last piece of tape in place. Still, he never moved.

Buffy stared at him for a second, taking his hand between hers. "Don't you remember, Spike?" she asked, pressing her fingers between his. "You made a promise to a lady."

The tears began again and the panic bubbled back to the surface. She

reached down, fumbling through the bag for the red bottle. Quickly, she

scurried up the bed, pushing his head up and piling pillows behind him.

"Spike," she whispered softly in his ear. "You have to drink this. All of it." Buffy uncapped the bottle, running her finger along the rim until it was red with the infusion. She ran her finger softly over his lips, parting them gently. Pushing his head up with one hand and raising the bottle with the other, she managed to tilt the liquid into his mouth. Her blood. Slayer blood. She knew, even if he was still awake, she could never get him to drink from her. That was one of the things he would never do and no amount of torment of pain or anger would convince him. If he even knew now that her blood had been shed for him, he would be reluctant, if not refuse, to drink. Buffy knew it was the only real hope. She'd have gladly offered her last drop to bring him back.

The elixir slid down his throat only because Buffy forced it. She never saw him drink or noticed him swallow, but the bottle was emptying all the same. It had to work. Had to buy them some time.

When the bottle was empty, she reached across him, setting the empty red

glass on the table and waited. Her hands glided over his face, tracing his cheeks, lips, eyes. "Spike, you have to come back," she whispered, fighting the tears and losing. They slipped along her cheeks and slid onto his face. "We've got work left to do. You're Emma's champion," she continued, sobbing. "You were mine before that. You're still mine." The words barely escaped through the hitching breaths. "Please, Spike. I love you. Please don't go..."

He never moved.

Buffy surrendered, letting the hurt and sadness take over. She curled in a ball next to him, her head buried in his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest and cried. Once again, she was losing someone she loved. Part of her world. The one thing she knew best is that, when it counted, she could not save her own world.

*****

"Wesley?" Angel muttered into the phone.

"What?" Wesley panted, his throat sill raw and throbbing.

"I need your help."

Wesley was silent. "Why does this call surprise me?"

"Look, you are the *last* person I really want to talk to," Angel huffed, annoyance rising, "but I can't contact Giles and I need your help."

"With what?" Wesley hissed.

"It's not for me. It's about Buffy. Well, really ... Spike."

"Spike?" Wesley chuckled. "Why would you help Spike?"

"Wesley, I don't have time for this," Angel snapped. The former Watcher was silent.

"What is it?" he finally asked, the rasp of his voice grating against

Angel.

"The Peacemaker Prophesy."

Wesley chuckled. "Myth."

"No, real," Angel answered. "One *more* wrong for Mr. Research. Do you

remember anything about the ... myth?"

"It's about a creature..."

"Not a creature. A little girl."

"Usually depicted as sort of a seraphim. The myth says that she is the one to unite the worlds, end conflict, resolve wars between dimensions.."

" I know all that," Angel said," Do you remember how?"

"How?"

"It's like a nursery rhyme I can't remember. The Peacemaker has.. power."

"Right," Wesley said, as if vaguely remembering. His annoyance and shock being replaced by his ingrained sense of duty. "I've never seen the Prophesy. Not sure anyone actually has, but the story goes that the

Peacemaker could speak to all creatures, heal all wounds suffered in her

name..."

"That's what I was looking for," Angel exclaimed, as if an old song lyric had been remembered.

"Why?"

"I'll have to explain later," the Vampire answered. He was quiet, trying to swallow his pride. "Thank you, Wesley."

"Right." The phone line clicked dead.

*****

"Xander?" Dawn screamed, her tone caught between fear and awe. "Xander?"

She heard footsteps stampeding up the stairs and a split second later, he appeared panting in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he breathed, leaning against the doorframe. Dawn was in the center of the room, carrying a still fussy Emma. But the room had changed. Xander walked in, eyes wide, trying to take in the sight.

"Why are there butterflies all over the place?" he asked, watching them

come in through the crack in the window. Hundreds of them, lined along the crib, surrounding Dawn in concentric rings.

"I don't think they're butterflies," Dawn said, almost afraid to breathe.

"What do you mean not butterflies? They're all... butterfly-y."

"They have faces," Dawn said, as one landed on Emma and looked at Dawn with tiny, kind eyes.

"Like bug faces?"

"No, like people faces."

"Dawn, I think you've been awake too long," Xander said, walking toward the window. The entire side of the house was covered in the creatures, quietly fluttering their hypnotic, coloured wings. Xander leaned over to the sill and one hopped in front of him. "They have faces!" he gasped, stepping back. He grabbed the top of the window, about to push it flush to the sill.

"No!" Dawn snapped. Xander looked at her oddly. "I... I think these are the fairies."

"Fairies?"

"Buffy wants them here."

"But there are.." Xander looked out the window again, " thousands of them."

"They're supposed to help Emma." Dawn was quiet for a moment. "Xander, if there are so many of them here, maybe something is happening."

"Like what? Fairypalooza?" Xander snarked. Dawn smirked her best

imitation Spike smirk.

"You need to go find Buffy," Dawn ordered, making her way to the crib and setting Emma down. The fairies immediately encircled the crib and fluttered from Dawn.

" I can't leave you alone."

"Believe me, I've got company," Dawn replied. "Emma is more important right now. We need Buffy. Go and find her quick."

"What if..."

"Xander, hurry," Dawn began to whine. Xander took a long look at the girl. Too much like her sister sometimes. He turned from the window and fled out the door.

To be contd.