Countdown: The Eight-Fold Path
By ElsaF
Spoilers: We're back in the 24-verse, which went AU after
Dead Things.
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Spike and Buffy didn't
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's refusal to tell
her friends about Spike led to a break up a little while later.
Buffy finally made up her mind, and "came out" only to
discover that everyone who mattered already knew. The Nerds
have been raided and Jonathan and Andrew are in the
Sunnydale jail. Warren escaped and came back to shoot Buffy
and Xander. Buffy was injured but not critically. Xander would
have died, but Willow intervened with Osiris, god of the dead,
to prevent him from crossing over. The price for saving
Xander's life was Willow's soul. Meanwhile, a very urban
vampire is wandering in the wilderness, looking for his.
**************
The Noble Eightfold Path, discovered by the Buddha Himself,
is the only way to Nirvana. It consists of the following eight
factors:
1.Right Understanding
2.Right Thoughts
3.Right Speech
4.Right Action
5.Right Livelihood
6.Right Effort
7.Right Mindfulness
8.Right Concentration
"When you yourself know that a thing is good, that it is not
blamable, that it is praised by the wise and when practiced and
observed that it leads to happiness, then follow that thing."
-- Buddha
**************
Spike had had about enough of the wilderness. The trees and
bushes grabbed at his coat. He'd had to stop and untangle his
duster more times than he could count. And the appeal of this
landscape escaped him. What was the point of "protecting" an
area like this? The scrub vegetation was ugly. The ground was
dry and the grass was brown. The trees were scraggly.
Fresh air -- what was it good for? He wanted a cigarette -- bad.
He regretted leaving them behind. And there were no pubs.
What he wouldn't give for a pint right now.
Vermin -- nasty little ground squirrels and lizards. Little
animals that scrabbled through the underbrush -- he could hear
them day and night. During the uncomfortable day huddled
under his coat, flies had buzzed around his face. He had a
suspicion that there were snakes out here -- though he hadn't
seen any. Nobody needed to go where there were snakes.
And the few people he'd run across were unaccountably
cheerful. What was there to be cheerful about out here? He
gave campsites wide berth, avoiding other hikers whenever he
could.
The path he was following angled upward as it wound through
the thin, stunted forest. He wasn't sure what direction he was
traveling. It was a cloudy night, so there weren't even any stars
to navigate by. It was dark -- not so dark that a vampire
couldn't see, but dark just the same. What this place needed
was some streetlights.
He came around a bend in the path and found himself on the
edge of a clearing. Definitely not sacred grove material. It was
just a somewhat open area covered by dry grass and weeds.
Near the center there was a boulder, and someone was sitting
cross-legged on it. Spike's first thought was to turn around and
go back -- find another way up this hill. But then he realized
that the person on the rock had no camping equipment -- no
backpack, no canteen, no binoculars, no compass. In fact, he
was wearing a business suit. OK, not a run-of-the-mill hiker.
Spike walked toward the figure.
About halfway across the open space, the person on the rock
raised his head and looked directly at Spike. He recognized
who he was walking toward and stopped abruptly.
It was Doc. He looked no different from when Spike had last
seen him, on the tower as he prepared to cut the Niblet and end
the world. He was still a small, unassuming figure with a
slightly pixyish face. His tail came out from under his suit
jacket and was curled in his lap.
Spike was torn between the desire to go forward and tear the
little demon's head off, and the more reasonable idea of turning
around and getting as far away from him as possible. He wasn't
afraid -- not of Doc. He was afraid that giving in to vengeance,
now, during this quest, might be exactly what it took to fail.
On the other hand, Doc wasn't an agent of good -- not by any
stretch of the imagination. Defeating and killing Doc might be
exactly what was expected of him.
"I'm not one of your challenges, if that's what you're
wondering," the demon said calmly.
"Then I can kill you, and it won't make any difference," Spike
said with a snarl, moving closer.
"You should know by now that I'm pretty hard to kill. You of
all people. But that's neither here nor there. I'm here to help
you."
"Help me? Please... You're no friend of mine."
"No, I'm not your friend. But I have been an admirer."
"Pull the other one."
"Really. I worship chaos. And in your day, you were as
powerful an agent of chaos as I've ever seen."
"So you're going to help me win a soul," Spike said skeptically.
"No, I didn't say that. I really don't think that would be helping
you."
"That's what I'm here for. So if you can't help me with that, get
out of my way."
"Now, now, don't be cranky. I'm here in good faith. You want a
soul. But you don't understand what you're asking for. You
may very well win it -- thought it's far from a sure thing. It's
going to be very difficult for you. But here's the thing: If you
do win it, it's not going to make you happy. Far from it.
"Go back, Spike. You are what you are. Embrace yourself. You
can have anything you want -- without taking this step. Even
the Slayer. You don't need a soul."
"She'll never accept me as I am."
"She already has."
"You're lying. You've come to weaken my resolve."
"Well, that's true -- about weakening your resolve. That's
exactly what I'm here for. But I'm telling you the truth about
the Slayer."
"Why should you care about my soul?"
"I worship chaos. There are only two real forces in the
universe: chaos and order. Good and evil? That's nonsense.
Anything that's good for someone is bad for someone else --
same goes for evil. No -- the great battle of the cosmos isn't
good and evil; it's chaos against order.
"You've been a powerful force of chaos. You can be again. But
souls -- souls are all about order. A soul gives you a framework
for your behavior. It doesn't change who you are. It won't make
you good. It won't keep you from hurting people. Souled
beings do harm every day. You've lost your way, Spike. Look
at you, wandering around on this butt-ugly mountainside,
looking for what?
"I'm here to get you pointed back where you belong."
"You're right when you say I'm lost. But you're wrong when
you say I don't know what I'm looking for."
"You know when you got lost?"
"When they put this chip in my head," Spike replied. "It
changed everything."
Doc laughed. "I know it must seem that way to you. But that
wasn't what knocked you catty-wompus. You could have gone
on mixing things up, just like you always did. You even tried
for a while. And as far as the universe is concerned, it wouldn't
have made that much difference if you were wreaking havoc on
the demon world rather than the human world. The universe
isn't as focused on humans as humans seem to think.
"No, the chip was a bump in the road, but it really didn't have
to make so much difference."
"If it wasn't the chip, what was it?"
"Like everything else that really matters, it came from you --
not that bit of technology in your brain. You started forming
attachments to living beings. That's what screwed you up."
"Don't happen to believe that's what's wrong, mate."
"Attachments -- they're a sort of order. Connections. You
decide what to do based on how it's going to affect the people
you care about. Next thing you know, you're part of the
establishment -- a home, a mortgage, a new car in the
driveway. You're doing everything to please the little woman.
It's order creeping in to quell chaos, and it has to be stopped."
"Not like I never cared for anyone before. There was
Drusilla..."
"Ah, but Drusilla is chaos incarnate. Nothing orderly there."
"You're full of it."
"If you win your soul, you may very well win the Slayer's heart
as well. In fact, I can't see it happening any other way --
particularly since she's already given in. Oh, there's some
danger that she won't like the changed you as much as she
liked the original -- but like or not, she loves you and she's
yours. But, Spike my boy, that doesn't mean you're going to be
happy."
"It's not about being happy. It's about being what she needs."
"You're reaching for a permanent solution to a temporary
problem here. Let's just say you get your soul. You deal with
the emotional pain it's going to cause you. You go back and the
Slayer is waiting for you. Happily ever after? I don't think so.
"She's a mortal. If she doesn't cash it next week or the week
after in some insignificant battle with the monster of the
moment, she's still going to go old and die. You won't. What
are you going to do once she's gone?"
"Maybe I'll go down next week or the week after in some
insignificant battle with the monster of the moment. Who
knows? I'm going to try to make her happy for as long as I
can."
"And then?"
"When it's all over, I'll know I did the best I could."
"But you still haven't answered the question."
Spike thought for a moment.
"Making the Slayer happy -- that's just part of it. Making her
happy will make me feel like I've done something right. But in
the end, it's not really about her. It's about me. I can't keep
going the way I've been. It's not because I don't want to be evil
any more. It's that I can't go on without changing. To stay the
same is to stop living. I stopped living more than a century ago.
I've been marking time -- continuing but not growing.
"'When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child,
I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away
childish things.' It's time for me to stop being a child and
become a man."
"Oh please... Christianity. All about rules," Doc shuddered.
"You're not going to take holy orders are you?"
"Don't suppose I'm any sort of a Christian -- not anymore. Not
after what I've been up to all this time. But still, I know I have
to change. And I can't change unless I understand. That's what
the soul is about -- understanding. I can't go on blindly. I want
to see again."
Doc's face twisted into a sneer. "You want understanding. How
orderly of you. Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
Spike started walking again, passing the boulder and Doc
without another look.
"Have a nice day," the demon called after him.
------------------
It was early-morning in Sunnydale when Dawn answered the
door, still in her pajamas. Anya was on the front porch.
"I heard what happened. I brought a covered dish," she said
with forced cheerfulness.
"Anya!" Dawn said in surprise. "A covered dish?"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" she asked.
"Um... that's for funerals. Nobody died."
"Oh, that's good. I mean, it's good that nobody died. I guess I
look a little foolish with this dish now."
"Dawn, who's there?" Buffy called down from upstairs.
"It's Anya," the teenager replied.
Buffy came down the stairs struggling to get a T-shirt over her
injured shoulder.
"Buffy, you should stay in bed."
"No way. I'm fine. Aren't you going to ask Anya in?"
"I can only stay a minute. I've got to go open up the store."
"Can we offer you some breakfast -- what have you got there?"
"A covered dish, but Dawn informs me that it was not the
correct item to bring when people have been injured."
"Flowers are more traditional," Dawn offered.
"Oh, flowers. I see."
"But a covered dish is quite thoughtful," Buffy said looking at
Anya's burden -- a clear, pyrex covered bowl -- empty.
"What do they want a bunch of dishes for at a funeral?" Anya
asked.
"Um ... I'm not sure. I think it's a tradition whose roots are lost
to antiquity. Come on, cereal and milk in the kitchen."
"You sit down and relax, Buffy. I'll get it," Dawn offered.
"I could get used to this," Buffy replied with a smile.
Dawn laid out cereal bowls and got out the milk and a box of
Raisin Bran.
"Wonder where Willow is. I'll go up and see if she's still
sleeping," Dawn said. "She's usually up by now." Dawn left to
look for Willow.
"Um... So, are you feeling better, Buffy?" Anya asked, though
her tone indicated she wanted to ask something different.
"Yes, I'm mending like a Slayer. And I understand Xander is a
lot better, too."
"Oh..." Anya said, looking down. "You understand, I could
care less. In fact, I hope he's in great pain."
Buffy cocked her head to the side and gave Anya a long look.
"Oh, OK. I'm glad he didn't die." She looked like she might be
about to cry.
"It's all right," Buffy said gently. "You can be angry with him,
but still be glad that he's going to be OK."
Anya looked up, her eyes shining with tears. "That's not it."
She let out a sob. "I was wishing that something horrible would
happen to him. I wanted him to be in pain. I wanted him to be
hurt the way I was hurting."
"That's understandable. He really hurt you."
"But I couldn't really hurt him -- by wishing. I mean, as a
vengeance demon, you can only grant wishes for others. You
can't do it for yourself."
"But you're not a vengeance demon anymore..."
Anya looked up at her and suddenly Buffy knew.
"Oh, God, Anya..."
"After the ... D'Hoffryn came to me. I felt so lost. I didn't think
I could go on being human. Everything I'd lived for these few
years was gone..."
Buffy took a deep breath.
"OK. I guess I can understand. But this doesn't have anything
to do with Xander getting shot."
"I was just so afraid," Anya said between sobs. "I know I
couldn't curse him directly. But, then I heard about the
shooting -- and I started wondering if there was some exception
-- and I had caused it."
"No, this wasn't your fault. I'm sure of it. Warren is perfectly
capable of doing harm entirely by himself. He doesn't need any
help from anybody."
"You understand, I'm still angry with Xander," Anya said
forcefully. "So I couldn't go to the hospital to see how he
was..."
Buffy smiled. "Yeah, I get that. It's OK. If you like, we'll keep
you posted."
"Thanks."
"Anya, about this vengeance demon thing..."
"Buffy! Something's wrong with Willow!" Dawn shouted from
the living room.
By ElsaF
Spoilers: We're back in the 24-verse, which went AU after
Dead Things.
Summary: Previously in the 24-verse: Spike and Buffy didn't
break up at the end of As You Were, but Buffy's refusal to tell
her friends about Spike led to a break up a little while later.
Buffy finally made up her mind, and "came out" only to
discover that everyone who mattered already knew. The Nerds
have been raided and Jonathan and Andrew are in the
Sunnydale jail. Warren escaped and came back to shoot Buffy
and Xander. Buffy was injured but not critically. Xander would
have died, but Willow intervened with Osiris, god of the dead,
to prevent him from crossing over. The price for saving
Xander's life was Willow's soul. Meanwhile, a very urban
vampire is wandering in the wilderness, looking for his.
**************
The Noble Eightfold Path, discovered by the Buddha Himself,
is the only way to Nirvana. It consists of the following eight
factors:
1.Right Understanding
2.Right Thoughts
3.Right Speech
4.Right Action
5.Right Livelihood
6.Right Effort
7.Right Mindfulness
8.Right Concentration
"When you yourself know that a thing is good, that it is not
blamable, that it is praised by the wise and when practiced and
observed that it leads to happiness, then follow that thing."
-- Buddha
**************
Spike had had about enough of the wilderness. The trees and
bushes grabbed at his coat. He'd had to stop and untangle his
duster more times than he could count. And the appeal of this
landscape escaped him. What was the point of "protecting" an
area like this? The scrub vegetation was ugly. The ground was
dry and the grass was brown. The trees were scraggly.
Fresh air -- what was it good for? He wanted a cigarette -- bad.
He regretted leaving them behind. And there were no pubs.
What he wouldn't give for a pint right now.
Vermin -- nasty little ground squirrels and lizards. Little
animals that scrabbled through the underbrush -- he could hear
them day and night. During the uncomfortable day huddled
under his coat, flies had buzzed around his face. He had a
suspicion that there were snakes out here -- though he hadn't
seen any. Nobody needed to go where there were snakes.
And the few people he'd run across were unaccountably
cheerful. What was there to be cheerful about out here? He
gave campsites wide berth, avoiding other hikers whenever he
could.
The path he was following angled upward as it wound through
the thin, stunted forest. He wasn't sure what direction he was
traveling. It was a cloudy night, so there weren't even any stars
to navigate by. It was dark -- not so dark that a vampire
couldn't see, but dark just the same. What this place needed
was some streetlights.
He came around a bend in the path and found himself on the
edge of a clearing. Definitely not sacred grove material. It was
just a somewhat open area covered by dry grass and weeds.
Near the center there was a boulder, and someone was sitting
cross-legged on it. Spike's first thought was to turn around and
go back -- find another way up this hill. But then he realized
that the person on the rock had no camping equipment -- no
backpack, no canteen, no binoculars, no compass. In fact, he
was wearing a business suit. OK, not a run-of-the-mill hiker.
Spike walked toward the figure.
About halfway across the open space, the person on the rock
raised his head and looked directly at Spike. He recognized
who he was walking toward and stopped abruptly.
It was Doc. He looked no different from when Spike had last
seen him, on the tower as he prepared to cut the Niblet and end
the world. He was still a small, unassuming figure with a
slightly pixyish face. His tail came out from under his suit
jacket and was curled in his lap.
Spike was torn between the desire to go forward and tear the
little demon's head off, and the more reasonable idea of turning
around and getting as far away from him as possible. He wasn't
afraid -- not of Doc. He was afraid that giving in to vengeance,
now, during this quest, might be exactly what it took to fail.
On the other hand, Doc wasn't an agent of good -- not by any
stretch of the imagination. Defeating and killing Doc might be
exactly what was expected of him.
"I'm not one of your challenges, if that's what you're
wondering," the demon said calmly.
"Then I can kill you, and it won't make any difference," Spike
said with a snarl, moving closer.
"You should know by now that I'm pretty hard to kill. You of
all people. But that's neither here nor there. I'm here to help
you."
"Help me? Please... You're no friend of mine."
"No, I'm not your friend. But I have been an admirer."
"Pull the other one."
"Really. I worship chaos. And in your day, you were as
powerful an agent of chaos as I've ever seen."
"So you're going to help me win a soul," Spike said skeptically.
"No, I didn't say that. I really don't think that would be helping
you."
"That's what I'm here for. So if you can't help me with that, get
out of my way."
"Now, now, don't be cranky. I'm here in good faith. You want a
soul. But you don't understand what you're asking for. You
may very well win it -- thought it's far from a sure thing. It's
going to be very difficult for you. But here's the thing: If you
do win it, it's not going to make you happy. Far from it.
"Go back, Spike. You are what you are. Embrace yourself. You
can have anything you want -- without taking this step. Even
the Slayer. You don't need a soul."
"She'll never accept me as I am."
"She already has."
"You're lying. You've come to weaken my resolve."
"Well, that's true -- about weakening your resolve. That's
exactly what I'm here for. But I'm telling you the truth about
the Slayer."
"Why should you care about my soul?"
"I worship chaos. There are only two real forces in the
universe: chaos and order. Good and evil? That's nonsense.
Anything that's good for someone is bad for someone else --
same goes for evil. No -- the great battle of the cosmos isn't
good and evil; it's chaos against order.
"You've been a powerful force of chaos. You can be again. But
souls -- souls are all about order. A soul gives you a framework
for your behavior. It doesn't change who you are. It won't make
you good. It won't keep you from hurting people. Souled
beings do harm every day. You've lost your way, Spike. Look
at you, wandering around on this butt-ugly mountainside,
looking for what?
"I'm here to get you pointed back where you belong."
"You're right when you say I'm lost. But you're wrong when
you say I don't know what I'm looking for."
"You know when you got lost?"
"When they put this chip in my head," Spike replied. "It
changed everything."
Doc laughed. "I know it must seem that way to you. But that
wasn't what knocked you catty-wompus. You could have gone
on mixing things up, just like you always did. You even tried
for a while. And as far as the universe is concerned, it wouldn't
have made that much difference if you were wreaking havoc on
the demon world rather than the human world. The universe
isn't as focused on humans as humans seem to think.
"No, the chip was a bump in the road, but it really didn't have
to make so much difference."
"If it wasn't the chip, what was it?"
"Like everything else that really matters, it came from you --
not that bit of technology in your brain. You started forming
attachments to living beings. That's what screwed you up."
"Don't happen to believe that's what's wrong, mate."
"Attachments -- they're a sort of order. Connections. You
decide what to do based on how it's going to affect the people
you care about. Next thing you know, you're part of the
establishment -- a home, a mortgage, a new car in the
driveway. You're doing everything to please the little woman.
It's order creeping in to quell chaos, and it has to be stopped."
"Not like I never cared for anyone before. There was
Drusilla..."
"Ah, but Drusilla is chaos incarnate. Nothing orderly there."
"You're full of it."
"If you win your soul, you may very well win the Slayer's heart
as well. In fact, I can't see it happening any other way --
particularly since she's already given in. Oh, there's some
danger that she won't like the changed you as much as she
liked the original -- but like or not, she loves you and she's
yours. But, Spike my boy, that doesn't mean you're going to be
happy."
"It's not about being happy. It's about being what she needs."
"You're reaching for a permanent solution to a temporary
problem here. Let's just say you get your soul. You deal with
the emotional pain it's going to cause you. You go back and the
Slayer is waiting for you. Happily ever after? I don't think so.
"She's a mortal. If she doesn't cash it next week or the week
after in some insignificant battle with the monster of the
moment, she's still going to go old and die. You won't. What
are you going to do once she's gone?"
"Maybe I'll go down next week or the week after in some
insignificant battle with the monster of the moment. Who
knows? I'm going to try to make her happy for as long as I
can."
"And then?"
"When it's all over, I'll know I did the best I could."
"But you still haven't answered the question."
Spike thought for a moment.
"Making the Slayer happy -- that's just part of it. Making her
happy will make me feel like I've done something right. But in
the end, it's not really about her. It's about me. I can't keep
going the way I've been. It's not because I don't want to be evil
any more. It's that I can't go on without changing. To stay the
same is to stop living. I stopped living more than a century ago.
I've been marking time -- continuing but not growing.
"'When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child,
I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away
childish things.' It's time for me to stop being a child and
become a man."
"Oh please... Christianity. All about rules," Doc shuddered.
"You're not going to take holy orders are you?"
"Don't suppose I'm any sort of a Christian -- not anymore. Not
after what I've been up to all this time. But still, I know I have
to change. And I can't change unless I understand. That's what
the soul is about -- understanding. I can't go on blindly. I want
to see again."
Doc's face twisted into a sneer. "You want understanding. How
orderly of you. Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
Spike started walking again, passing the boulder and Doc
without another look.
"Have a nice day," the demon called after him.
------------------
It was early-morning in Sunnydale when Dawn answered the
door, still in her pajamas. Anya was on the front porch.
"I heard what happened. I brought a covered dish," she said
with forced cheerfulness.
"Anya!" Dawn said in surprise. "A covered dish?"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" she asked.
"Um... that's for funerals. Nobody died."
"Oh, that's good. I mean, it's good that nobody died. I guess I
look a little foolish with this dish now."
"Dawn, who's there?" Buffy called down from upstairs.
"It's Anya," the teenager replied.
Buffy came down the stairs struggling to get a T-shirt over her
injured shoulder.
"Buffy, you should stay in bed."
"No way. I'm fine. Aren't you going to ask Anya in?"
"I can only stay a minute. I've got to go open up the store."
"Can we offer you some breakfast -- what have you got there?"
"A covered dish, but Dawn informs me that it was not the
correct item to bring when people have been injured."
"Flowers are more traditional," Dawn offered.
"Oh, flowers. I see."
"But a covered dish is quite thoughtful," Buffy said looking at
Anya's burden -- a clear, pyrex covered bowl -- empty.
"What do they want a bunch of dishes for at a funeral?" Anya
asked.
"Um ... I'm not sure. I think it's a tradition whose roots are lost
to antiquity. Come on, cereal and milk in the kitchen."
"You sit down and relax, Buffy. I'll get it," Dawn offered.
"I could get used to this," Buffy replied with a smile.
Dawn laid out cereal bowls and got out the milk and a box of
Raisin Bran.
"Wonder where Willow is. I'll go up and see if she's still
sleeping," Dawn said. "She's usually up by now." Dawn left to
look for Willow.
"Um... So, are you feeling better, Buffy?" Anya asked, though
her tone indicated she wanted to ask something different.
"Yes, I'm mending like a Slayer. And I understand Xander is a
lot better, too."
"Oh..." Anya said, looking down. "You understand, I could
care less. In fact, I hope he's in great pain."
Buffy cocked her head to the side and gave Anya a long look.
"Oh, OK. I'm glad he didn't die." She looked like she might be
about to cry.
"It's all right," Buffy said gently. "You can be angry with him,
but still be glad that he's going to be OK."
Anya looked up, her eyes shining with tears. "That's not it."
She let out a sob. "I was wishing that something horrible would
happen to him. I wanted him to be in pain. I wanted him to be
hurt the way I was hurting."
"That's understandable. He really hurt you."
"But I couldn't really hurt him -- by wishing. I mean, as a
vengeance demon, you can only grant wishes for others. You
can't do it for yourself."
"But you're not a vengeance demon anymore..."
Anya looked up at her and suddenly Buffy knew.
"Oh, God, Anya..."
"After the ... D'Hoffryn came to me. I felt so lost. I didn't think
I could go on being human. Everything I'd lived for these few
years was gone..."
Buffy took a deep breath.
"OK. I guess I can understand. But this doesn't have anything
to do with Xander getting shot."
"I was just so afraid," Anya said between sobs. "I know I
couldn't curse him directly. But, then I heard about the
shooting -- and I started wondering if there was some exception
-- and I had caused it."
"No, this wasn't your fault. I'm sure of it. Warren is perfectly
capable of doing harm entirely by himself. He doesn't need any
help from anybody."
"You understand, I'm still angry with Xander," Anya said
forcefully. "So I couldn't go to the hospital to see how he
was..."
Buffy smiled. "Yeah, I get that. It's OK. If you like, we'll keep
you posted."
"Thanks."
"Anya, about this vengeance demon thing..."
"Buffy! Something's wrong with Willow!" Dawn shouted from
the living room.