Loving Eternally: Chapter 2
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
Twenty-five years later
As the wind blew through the open top of the sleek convertible, it tousled and whipped the driver's hair into a blonde frenzy, glowing in the bright afternoon sunlight. Like a master, the car hugged the corners of the tightly curved and winding roads, one side dropping off into the steep and rocky abyss of the valleys below while the other hugged the side of the winding mountain. The breeze smelled of the salt from the Mediterranean Sea, just miles away back in the port town of Marseilles. But then the sleek car was at a point where it could go no further, nosing into a parking spot amidst tourist buses and other vehicles, showing that the small village was already full of the eager tourists that populated much of France during the summer months.
As the soft purr of the engine ticked into silence, the driver slid from the car, stretching cramped muscles before turning to join the throng of people that pulsed into the ancient village. Boots clicking off hard cobblestone, she weaved around groups and hiked up the steep slope, her eyes locked on the ruins that dominated the top of the cliffs, the small village wrapped around and below.
"Bienvenue aux Baux de Provence," the ticket woman chirped, smiling brightly at the girl that stood before the entrance to the ruins. Slowly that smile faltered as she really looked at the woman. She was young, probably early twenties, with long blonde hair that lay straight around her shoulders, short and slim in close-fitting black leather pants and a black hooded sweatshirt that was zipped up despite the warm, summer day. But more importantly, the woman noticed the cold indifference that wafted from the girl. "Ah... vingt-cinq francs," she quickly stuttered, grabbing a ticket as the girl dropped the coins on the counter. And without a word, the girl stepped past and disappeared amongst the horde of other visitors.
"I hate tourist spots," Buffy Summers grumbled quietly, knowing that the woman's eyes were still upon her as she stepped around happy families and college kids with huge backpacks, finally stopping as she pushed through the exit of the museum and found herself on a large plateau of rock, crumbling castle ruins surrounded by the shear cliff edge that dropped hundreds of feet to the ground below. "But suitably impressed," she acknowledged before getting jostled by a tour group.
Grimacing, Buffy took a second to glare at the group before breaking away from the packs, beginning her exploration. It took little time to stumble upon the ancient cemetery, filled with massive tombs and mausoleums - her first point of interest. But even that got old as she moved on, stepping over barriers and moving past ancient, crumbling walls and down slanted, carved stone steps until she entered a room that sat on the cliff edge, the wall long since destroyed and hanging free to the sky. Enchanted, Buffy moved over tumbled rock and settled on the dusty stone floor, her feet dangling out over open air, the valley spread out far below her as she watched the fiery red sun begin its descent.
It was as good as a place as any to wait for the tourists to leave and for the ruins to close for the night - for the real fun to begin - or so it should if her source in Marseilles had been telling the truth. Then again, seeing as how the vampire had been staring down the point of her stake, she was pretty sure that he was reliable. She had just been lucky that while cleaning out Marseilles' unwanted night life, she had stumbled across the one vampire who wanted to cut a deal - his life for information. Of course, once she heard about the plans to open a Hellmouth here in these ruins, the vampire was dust. Maybe at some point Buffy would have been shocked at the ease of promising salvation only to look in the betrayed eyes of the one that she killed without a second thought. Maybe before... not now.
It had been twenty-five years since she left home without saying goodbye, forever cutting herself out of that life. Since that time she had survived on a need to destroy all evil in the world - hoping that somehow that would save her soul and atone for all of the mistakes that she had made before, all of the people that she had failed. She didn't think that she ever could. Once before she had realized the full weight of her responsibility and everything that she had done so wrong. Willow had later convinced her that just by being human that was an excuse. Of course she now realized that it wasn't, for she was more than human.
"It's just... every time someone gets killed, I think I should have prevented it. I mean, how can I go Bronzing and to the movies and all that stuff, when I know we're on a Hellmouth?"
"Because you're not a god," Willow said. "Slayer, sure, but also a human being..."
"But people die when I make mistakes," Buffy murmured. (The Evil That Men Do, Nancy Holder)
It was a lesson that she had finally learned those twenty-five years ago when Riley died. Oh, she had learned that lesson well and had been forever changed as a result. Gone was the happy, carefree Buffy that seemed to care only about the next source of fun. Now, she lived solely for slaying, and would most likely die from it as well. It was funny, because as the years had passed she found herself thinking more and more of Anya's description of the alternate Sunnydale that she had visited when granting Cordelia's wish all of those years ago. She had mentioned an alternate Buffy, one that she imagined that she now resembled.
Shaking off her heavy thoughts, Buffy noted that she had completely missed the sunset as the world was now cast into darkness. Surprised, she cocked her head to one side, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder as she tried to pinpoint what had woken her from her thoughts. And then her sharp hearing picked up the quiet chanting that drifted down from somewhere on the plateau of rock up above. Sighing, Buffy climbed to her feet and dusted off her black pants, being careful of the edge and crumbling stone. While she was bound to die sooner rather than later, she didn't need to hurry the cause by falling off a cliff.
Grimacing at the picture her mind summed up at the gory thought, Buffy unzipped her thin jacket and checked her stash of stakes and vials of holy water that were strapped around her thin form. Reaching a small hand in, she withdrew one stake from its holster and a small pen-light from the other. Clicking it on and illuminating her path, she then began her quiet ascent back to the rocky plateau, one sure-footed black boot after the other until she finally reached the moonlit ruins. Quickly Buffy snapped her light off and moved past crumbling walls, the chanting growing steadily louder until she finally settled against what, in days long past, must have been an outside wall to the castle.
With the sleek muscles of a cat, Buffy slowly inched up and peeked through the open stone window. Immediately, her eyes focused on a ring of six vampires, game faces on and standing in a loose circle of flickering candles, a single wooden pole in the middle, looking as though it came straight from the Middle Ages - as it probably did - with a long and heavy crossbar on top, one indent in the middle and two smaller ones on either side - just perfect for the neck and wrists of their struggling captive.
Groaning, Buffy quickly shook her head as she crouched back down. She hated when innocents were involved - but at least she now knew where to start. Reaching within her jacket, Buffy quickly snagged another stake and silently moved until she stood in the shadows of the broken wall. Then, with precision honed by years of fighting, Buffy quickly flicked her wrists back and then sent each stake flying with deadly accuracy as the two closest vampires disappeared in a shower of dust.
But even as their remnants were floating to the ground, Buffy was sailing from the shadows, both feet extended forward with all of her strength and momentum behind it, slamming into the base of the pole from the side and shattering it. Grunting, Buffy landed hard on her back as the girl tumbled free in the opposite direction. But then she was moving again as she rolled backwards onto her knees, her hands grabbing two more stakes en route and sending them flying at the two vampires opposite of her.
This time, only one stake hit home as the other vampire swiveled at the right moment, catching the stake in the shoulder and going down in a scream of pain and anger. Buffy wasn't worried for her main goal was already accomplished as the would-be-victim was on her feet and running for her life. Now there were three down and three to go, one of which was injured - now the real fun could begin.
"Chienne!" the injured one barked as he ripped the stake from his bleeding shoulder. "Est-ce que tu sais que c'est difficile de trouver une vierge jeune aujourd'hui?"
"Speak English," Buffy bit back as the two other vampires rushed her, snagging her under each arm and slamming her against a stone wall. Grinding her teeth against the flash of pain, Buffy quickly retaliated with a sharp elbow to one, freeing up that arm to fire a punch that shattered her other captor's nose, cartilage and bone going in all directions as the neck snapped back so far that the vertebrae broke - and then all that remained was a showering of dust.
Free at last, Buffy quickly snagged another stake from her stash and turned. Seeing the vampire with the injured arm staggering towards her, Buffy swiveled and launched herself at him with a flying kick that sent him soaring back a good ten feet or so. And then she was moving again as she swung the stake out and buried the wood into the chest of the vampire that she had elbowed, showering herself once more in dust.
Five down, one to go, she thought as she withdrew one more stake, her eyes locking with those of the vampire who was slowly climbing to his feet.
"Nous retournerons!" he vowed.
"Yeah, whatever you say, buddy," Buffy bit back as she sent the stake flying, adding yet another pile of ash to the mess that already covered the rocky plateau.
Alone once more, Buffy finally let her guard down as she rubbed aching muscles. Sometimes she felt that she was getting too old for this - until she remembered that that was a physical impossibility. If anything, like the dead Watcher said, she just seemed to get stronger, faster, and more agile with each passing year.
But then everything was forgotten as clapping echoed in the moonlit night. Freezing, Buffy reached for her last stake as her eyes raked over the shadowed ruins. "Who's there?" she demanded, her voice silencing the clapping as a single figure emerged from the shadows. As the moonlight glinted off of short, spiky white-blond hair and a tall, lean figure, Buffy quickly lifted her hand and tried to hide her face.
"You know, I haven't met a slayer with moves like that in a long time," the familiar British voice called out.
"Ah zt - Spike," Buffy muttered as she bent down and began retrieving stakes, trying her best to ignore him in hopes that he'd just go away.
"What? The big, bad Slayer getting a little stage fright?" Spike taunted from behind her, his voice growing closer.
"Oh, just go away," Buffy muttered beneath her breath as she began to move away. She hadn't seen Spike since college all of those years ago when he left to search for Drusilla - hoping that she'd somehow help to get the chip out of his head that kept him from fighting anything but fellow demons. Seeing as how the Scooby Gang refused flat out, with good reason, the vampire had finally gotten desperate.
"Hey love, I was talking to you!" Spike called out, obviously not used to being ignored.
"I should stake you just on principal," Buffy finally muttered, unable to stop herself. Instantly, she knew that she had gone too far as the angry vampire grabbed her arm. Moving on instinct, Buffy easily twisted away, but her hood slipped off in the process, bringing her face to face with the first familiar face in twenty-five years.
"Slayer?" Spike gasped, his jaw hanging slack in surprise and confusion. "Bloody hell! But you're dead!" he accused as he took in the familiar petite form and hard blue eyes, snagging her arm once again.
"Close enough," Buffy snapped, shrugging his hand away once again.
That stopped Spike cold as his eyes narrowed and he reevaluated his first impression. Yep, with that hair and lithe little figure, it was definitely the little vixen of a slayer that he remembered. Then again, the posture and expression were something new. That sharp little wit of hers was nowhere to be seen as the eyes that stared back at him were flat and hard. "What in the hell happened to you and why does everyone think that you're dead?" he blurted, grimacing at the changes that were evident in her.
Frowning, Buffy was tempted to fire back at him, but instead reeled in what had to be a bout of irrational anger and turned her back on him once again. "You never saw me," she stated coldly as she walked stiffly away.
Amazed, Spike quickly shook his head. "What a bloody bitch!" he laughed. When he didn't get a response, a mischievous glint entered his cold blue eyes. "You abandoned them."
Just as he knew it would, that one got through to Buffy as she swiveled on her heels and stalked angrily towards him. "Shut up!" she cried, jabbing a finger angrily at his chest. "You don't understand!"
"What's there to understand?" Spike asked as innocently as he could muster. "You lied to them-"
"I did it for them!"
"Tell that to your bloody friends."
Frustrated now, Buffy stomped her foot angrily, feeling like the angry child that she looked. "Why don't you understand? It was necessary to do things like this," she growled.
"Like what?" he retorted, a sneer distorting his pale features.
Sighing, Buffy reeled in her emotions and quickly locked it behind a passive face. Shaking her head, she slowly turned away. "You could never understand."
"Oh, give me a bloody break!" Spike guffawed, surprising Buffy enough that she faced him once again. "Don't you realize how selfish you've been? Your family has been mourning your tragic death for the last two decades while you've lived the good life!"
Biting her lip, Buffy resisted the strong urge to dust the arrogant vampire. She knew that being around people that she loved only endangered them, but deep down she always regretted her actions... if only there had been another way... but there hadn't. Ever since she had left Sunnydale for the last time, Buffy had worked loosely in conjunction with the Watcher's Council, doing whatever was needed to make the world a better place. She became a slaying machine and the guilt and loneliness only fueled her anger and desire to fight. And throughout it all, she avoided everything from her past life like the plague, not even stepping foot in California for fear of being recognized. In the end, her only connection with her past life were her visits to the complex where Faith was being held. Apparently, twenty years or so ago the Rogue Slayer had attempted escape from the Watcher-run facility. The result was another coma that still plagued the girl - one from which, for real this time, she may never awaken.
Perhaps it was for the best, for if Buffy had learned of Faith's captivity before the coma, she probably would have done something stupid like break her out - differences between them or not. Instead, she had spent many slow times at the compound, visiting her old ally and enemy. Just seeing that ghost from her past had always been enough.
"Buffy?" Spike asked, the closest thing to worry he could muster entering his eyes.
"I hate you," was Buffy's reply, both knowing it was halfhearted.
"So what else is knew?" Spike threw back, grinning as the Slayer's cold features finally cracked and the first thing to a smile that the girl had probably seen in a long while lifted her lips.
Shaking her head, Buffy marveled at how this brief time with a person that she could never stand stirred in her remnants of her old self - the parts that she thought had long ago disappeared. "So.. haven't you found Dru yet?" she asked, knowing instinctively that the vampire still lived with his chip - for otherwise he would have tried ripping her head off about ten minutes ago.
Instantly the smile disappeared from Spike's face as he turned solemn. "Yeah, and she's still as bloody batty as ever - tried to stake me last week," he muttered crossly, absently rubbing his chest as the Slayer's smile began to grow. "Hey, I wouldn't be smiling if I were you!" he quickly cut in. "After all, I was just on my way to Sunnydale-"
"Via Baux de Provence?" Buffy interrupted skeptically, arching a slim eyebrow at the vampire.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I am," Spike said, his tone deadly serious. "Cause Dru's on her way there right now, on a new self-righteous kick to kill anything that ever hurt her - hence myself and all the 'dead' Slayer's friends and family."
Once more, Spike's words caused Buffy to freeze as the smile slipped from her face and she slid into silence.
"Slayer?" Spike asked, fidgeting impatiently.
And then the cold Slayer that she had become clamped down tight on any emotion but anger and determination. Turning, she pushed past him and stalked across the rocky ruins.
"Hey, where ya goin'?" Spike called after her, surprised by the sudden change.
"To Sunnydale - and I suggest that you find somewhere to hide out until this business is finished. Once and for all!" she cried out over her shoulder as her slim form disappeared into the shadows of the dark night.