Part Nine
Massive thanks to two amazing betas, Maggie and kittyb90, who gave me tons of help and ideas, and kept me from giving up on this chapter entirely.
The Team of Destiny is an actual organization. If you are a member of this organization, I'm sorry if I've misrepresented you, but I wasn't able to find a lot of information about you. Please feel free to e-mail me.
Spoilers for the Angel Season 3 finale.
"Bad enough I'm everyone's froofy man-bitch," Spike griped as he entered the dining room, his face still damp from washing off the makeup. "You gotta dress me up like a woman too?"
"We didn't actually *dress* you like a woman," Buffy mocked, her arms folded across her chest as she sat back against one of the dining room chairs.
"None of Buffy's dresses were long enough," Dawn added without raising her eyes from the laptop in front of her. "And Buffy said I'd be irreparably damaged from seeing your parts."
Anya reached over a pile of books and into the bowl at the center of the table. "Why, cause it's bent?" She looked up questioningly as she popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth.
Buffy put her hand over her face, looking as if she was unsure whether she should laugh hysterically or just crawl under the table.
"Bent?" Dawn suddenly lost interest in the computer screen. "What's bent?" she demanded, looking to Buffy and then Anya. "You mean….*ew!*"
"If we could remain focused on the impending destruction of the Earth…" Wesley sat with a pencil resting against his forehead, his eyes tired.
Spike scowled across the table at the man as he took the remaining chair next to Dawn. "Are you still here?"
"How did it get bent?" Dawn whispered to him, genuinely curious about this newfound knowledge.
"Guys, come on," Buffy said, leaning forward. She fought through a giggle and attempted her best tone of authority. "If there's an apocalypse coming, we need to be on top of it."
Spike's tongue made a brief appearance on his lower lip. "Oh I know exactly what you'll be on top of, Slay - *ow!*" He put his hand to his eye as the piece of popcorn which had struck him bounced into his lap.
"Isn't it a little early for an apocalypse?" Dawn huffed as she returned to her work. "Usually they don't happen until like, spring."
"This isn't just an apocalypse," Anya corrected. "This is the End of Days, with capital letters and everything."
Spike brushed the attacking popcorn to the floor, leaned his chair back, and put one foot on the table. "Been there, done that." He pointed at Wesley accusingly. "And we've filled our quota of British guys, so get out."
Wesley gestured to the open book in front of him. "Spike, if you would just listen to the proph -"
"Found it!" Dawn looked up from the monitor and grinned triumphantly.
"Found what?" Spike asked, peering over her shoulder.
"Wesley said the description of the first battle kept including the word 'destiny'," Dawn explained to him. "And there was a picture, see?" She reached across the table and pulled Wesley's book closer to them. In the corner of a page of indecipherable text was an illustration of what looked like a letter 'S', stretched out to resemble a river, or possibly a curved lightning bolt. Dawn gestured to the screen, where a similar design wound its way through photos of smiling couples.
Buffy opened her mouth to toss a piece of popcorn in, paused to consider the action a moment, and then decided instead to throw it at Spike's other eye. "Damn," she muttered to herself as it bounced off his temple.
"Team of destiny dot com," Dawn announced. "It's got all this vague stuff about *'making dreams come true' *and *'the power of a team'*. But it's password-protected, so I can't see any more specific stuff."
"I felt that, bitch," Spike said without looking up.
"Can't you just, you know…" Anya held out her hands and mimed typing by waggling her fingers. "Hack through it?"
Dawn shook her head. "My internet skills pretty much peak at the Google search."
Spike moved closer and read off the website. "*'Enjoy the rewards of life while pursuing worthwhile goals and aspirations.'* It's a cult," he said confidently." And it's got nothing to do with me."
"It has everything to do with you,"' Wesley argued. He let the pencil fall to the table, and his eyes flared with anger. "There's a prophecy about the end of days that specifically refers to the vampire with a soul."
"Then go bother the other one," Spike snapped. "I'm sure the prancing pillock can take time out of his busy schedule of combing his hair and trying to develop a third facial expression."
"You have a soul?" Dawn squealed.
Anya looked over at him, equally stunned. "Angel has two facial expressions?"
Dawn gave Spike an exploratory poke in the side. "You don't seem any different."
"Hey! Cut it out!" Spike tried to worm away from her, but his obvious discomfort only made her more determined. After receiving a particularly hard jab in his ribs, he slapped her arm away from him.
"Aaaaaah!" Spike doubled over immediately, his head in his hands.
"You seem the same to me." Dawn said with a wicked smile.
"He smells like cantaloupes now," Buffy told her.
"Is *that* what that is?" Dawn seemed relieved, as if a great mystery had just been resolved for her. "That smell's been driving me crazy all day. I thought we had some rotten fruit somewhere."
"Do you feel any different?" Anya asked him.
Spike raised his head. "I'm a little indigestive," he replied. "And I am not a rotten fruit!" he added, giving Dawn his best menacing look, which only made her giggle.
"Angel's missing." Wesley's abrupt comment brought the room to silence instantly. "Both he and Cordelia haven't been seen for months, and our - " He winced. " - *his* team has no idea where they might be."
Spike looked to Buffy to gauge her reaction, and was surprised that she didn't seem affected at all. The others followed his gaze, and Buffy responded by averting her eyes from them.
"When I saw Angel," she said, her voice distant, as if trying to keep the memory remote. "Last year, when I first came back, he talked about her. About Cordelia. How she'd changed so much, what a hero she'd become." She looked up at her friends and smiled sadly. "Nothing like the ex moving on to push you further into the spiraling depression." The room was quiet, and the squeak of Spike's chair as he brought his leg down from the tabletop seemed deafening. "They're probably together. And they're probably fine. And I don't want to work with him on this." Her tone was resolute as she met Spike's eyes. "So you're it, soul man."
Spike nodded almost imperceptibly. The scattered, dusty books on the table meant nothing to him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let them tell him what to do. But if Buffy was asking…
Wesley cleared his throat. "Actually, after doing further research, I'm not sure the prophecies are referring to Angel at all. The book of Aberjian, where I first saw this information, is difficult to translate, and very vague."
"Vague prophecies? No way," Buffy mumbled sarcastically.
"The Book of Nihttaehw, which I found recently in the Nevada desert, predates the Aberjian, and was written by a tribe whose language evolved into several modern-day languages, so it's much easier to decipher." He opened the book in front of him to a page he had marked and pointed at a passage with his pencil. "Whenever it mentions the vampire with a soul, it says, *"vidahmurtah cohn halmah ay forzoh conzehnzah"*. That translates as -"
"The undead with a soul and a forced conscience," Anya interrupted. "Two things."
"At first I thought they were merely being repetitive," Wesley explained. "But then I spoke with one of my contacts, a warlock in Nigeria, and he told me about a vampire he had met there recently - "
"With a soul and a forced conscience," Spike concluded. "The chip." He sighed and lowered his head. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "This means I have to leave the house, doesn't it?"
Wesley reached out to retrieve the book that Dawn had been looking at. "This is the Tome of Ecinoslom, which had previously only existed as fragments. But Anya had a full copy of the text. It was always thought to be a work of fiction based on the Biblical Revelations. However, I believe that it's actually a companion piece to Nihttaehw and Aberjian, spelling out the specific battles of the End of Days." He flipped back a few pages. "This word here: *niitaai* is an arcane spelling of -"
"Could we skip the exposition?" Spike interrupted. "Just tell me what I gotta kill."
Wesley held his pencil up in a tight fist, almost as if it was a weapon. "Why does everyone always interrupt me?" he shouted.
"I liked you better when you were all British," Buffy commented softly.
Wesley sighed. "I'm still British."
Buffy gestured to his face. "Yeah, but now you got the whole facial hair thing going on. And where'd you get that cool scar?"
"Slayer," Spike said. "A little respect for the apocalypse, please."
"But when have the apocalypses ever respected me?" she said. Spike gave her a questioning frown, and she responded with a half-smile. "Sorry." She looked around at the others assembled at the table. "Sorry. I've just been holding onto that Angel story for so long; I'm all giddy now."
Her eyes worked their way back to Spike just in time to catch him mouthing, "I like it."
"So. Business." Buffy nodded determinedly to Wesley. "You and Anya keep doing the book thing, and I'll start rounding up the troops. You said this happens soon, right? So when? When does the world end?"
Wesley placed the pencil in the center of the book. "A week from tomorrow."
The others looked at him blankly for a moment, except for Anya, who was busy rearranging books to give herself better access to the snacks.
"So you're telling me we have eight days to prepare to battle the armies of hell and prevent total Revalationy chaos?" Buffy asked.
"Actually, you have seven and a half days," Anya said through a mouthful of popcorn. "And four separate battles."
"And…in four different locations." Wesley added, forcing a smile. "But they all do appear to take place in North America."
"Yay," Buffy said flatly.
Wesley looked down at the book again. "The first is somewhere in the Midwest. The second appears to be Southern Canada. The third is on the East Coast, and the fourth is on the West Coast, possibly here in Sunnydale."
"Road trip!" Dawn shouted out happily.
Buffy put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. "Great. I'll have to quit my job; there's no way I can get a week off." She shrugged. "Well, you can get the council to help us out with the cash flow, right?" She caught Wesley's embarrassed expression and sat up straight again. "Right…?"
"The council and I are….not on very good terms." Wesley lowered his head. "I was fired, as you know, and then there was an incident with Faith where -" He looked up at Buffy abruptly. "Wait a minute, you were *there*."
"I was where?"
"In LA, at Angel's," Wesley told her. "The Council came to capture Faith and we fought them off. How could you not remember?"
"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't taking notes on your life when I was trying to deal with Angel," Buffy said sarcastically.
Wesley folded his arms across his chest. "Perhaps if you weren't so busy 'dealing' with Angel, I wouldn't have been fired in the first place."
Buffy's eyebrows raised threateningly. "So now this is my fault? Angel's fault? Maybe if *you* weren't such a - "
"Could we stop talking about poncy Angel already?" Spike cut in. "I'm about to start dry-heaving." He gave Buffy a dismissive wave of his hand. "And don't worry about money. I can just go knock off a convenience store or something."
Buffy put her hand to her head as if in pain. "We can't save the world with stolen money."
"Why not?" Spike asked. "Seems to me preventing all the rivers of blood and whatnot makes up for one minor unarmed robbery."
"You can't commit a crime to do something good; they don't cancel each other out," Buffy attempted to explain. "It just doesn't work that way."
"Well it should," Spike asserted, raising his eyebrows defiantly.
"There's a bit more to the prophecy…" Wesley began, glancing down into his book and hesitating.
"Let me guess," Spike said sardonically. He slouched back against the chair with an over-exaggerated sigh. "After the world ends, I turn into a frog."
Wesley looked up at Spike, his chin high and proud. "Your reward is life, Spike. Provided that you can prevent the End of Days, you will turn human."
"*Human?*" Spike sat up in his chair and stared at Wesley. "I don't want to turn human! Humans are all a bunch of sodding idiots."
"Hey!" Dawn yelled.
Spike put his hand on her shoulder. "Except for you, bit."
Buffy cleared her throat loudly.
"And your sister's not bad either."
"I'm not a human so I'm not offended," Anya stated proudly.
Spike pointed across the table at Wesley. "But *you* are a sodding idiot."
"Will you stop pointing at me, already, you're like a ten-year-old chil -" His gaze shifted to Anya. "You're not human?"
"And if that's the 'reward' for saving all you worthless gits, I'm out." Spike folded his arms across his chest defiantly.
"Well, originally, yes," Anya explained. "But then I became a demon. And then I became human again. But then…"
"You can't be *out*," Wesley insisted, returning his attention to Spike. "This isn't a game of rugby; it's the destruction of all creatures, man and animal, human and demon -"
"Spike…" Dawn gazed at him with wide eyes and a piteous frown.
"Don't think I'm falling for that tilted-head, sad-puppy-dog look," Spike said sternly. "That's *my* bit; I'm immune to it."
"…and if you think about it, none of it was really my fault," Anya said.
Wesley shut the book in front of him. "We're all going to die," he muttered.
The chattering was immediately silenced when Buffy stood up, her face set in her familiar, determined, lead-the-men-into-battle expression. "So we got eight days. We can do this, but we're all going to have to get busy. Anya, I need you to take the computer and call Willow in England. The number's on the refrigerator. Try to get at least a location on this Team of Destiny thing. Wesley, open up that book again, and make sure we're chasing the right cult here. Dawn, take a walk to school while it's still light out; I'm pretty sure that the bookstore opened this week, so you can buy your books for this year."
Dawn groaned softly at the thought of schoolbooks.
"You better get moving," Buffy said firmly, but her face quickly softened into a smile. "You still have to pack."
Dawn's eyes lit up. "I'm going?" She grinned and leapt from her chair with a squeal. "I'm going!"
Buffy gestured to the front door.
"I'm going," Dawn said, and she rushed from the room, still smiling widely.
Buffy turned her attention towards Spike, and he regarded her warily.
"Spike, go home."
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
"We'll need knives, axes, crossbows," she continued. "Anything pointy and sharp. And pack some clothes, provided that you like, have a second outfit. We could also use your car, if that's still around."
He nodded. "Still got it. What about your mother's…?"
"It needs a lot of repairs," she told him. "Lately I haven't had the cash. Plus yours is already vamp-proof. While you're at home, ask Clem to nose around the demon bars for word on the next big bad. If the apocalypse is coming to town, there should be signs already."
"I'll also need - "
"In the hall closet," she said with a slight smile. "And try not to singe any of the nicer blankets."
She turned her attention towards the remaining two as Spike left the room. "We'll call the Magic Box daily to give you guys updates, and Wesley, you can stay here while we're gone." Her steely resolve seemed to weaken, and she put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. "The only problem now is how to finance our mini-crusade." She shot a guilty look towards the doorway. "Does it make me a bad person if I'm totally considering the unarmed robbery thing?"
Anya sat up straighter in her chair and smiled at Buffy until she got her attention. "I can help," she chirped happily.
"Help with money?" Buffy asked, beginning to look hopeful. "Really?"
"Now, I'm not talking *lots* of money," Anya said quickly. "But I can spare some, and it should be enough. All I ask in return is that I officially get credit for helping to save the world. And the guarantee of a high-quality afterlife, despite any past or future indiscretions."
"That's not really my decision -"
"Just say yes."
"Yes."
Anya stood up proudly. "Well then," she said. "What are we waiting for? Let's save the world."
*
"You know," Buffy said, looking down at her bed sadly. "Sometime I think, hey, I'm the Slayer. The Chosen One. I save people. Fight the big evil daily. Die and come back twice. There's nothing I can't face, no odds I can't overcome, no decision I can't make. And then…" She spread her hands to gesture at the two items on the bed. "This. I'm baffled."
Dawn put her suitcase down on the floor and looked at the two white tank tops lying on Buffy's bed. "I like the cottony one."
Buffy picked up the top by its thin straps. "I don't know. The other one's really comfortable, cause it's the built-in-bra type, but there's minimal support, which could be an issue when, you know, fighting big monster things."
Dawn nodded. "Best to go with the bra and tank combination."
Spike appeared at the doorway behind Dawn. "Got the car, stocked with weapons and bottled blood. And Anya's got a location, so we're ready to go."
Buffy whined softly and turned her attention back to the two shirts.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Clothes emergency," Dawn told him.
"Oh, for the love of my ass." Spike muttered, leaning his head against the doorframe.
Buffy held up the two tank tops in front of her. "Which one is better?"
Spike stared at the two identical shirts blankly. "They used to call me insane when I stuck railroad spikes through people's heads. But this reaches levels of psychosis that I've never even heard of."
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Boys have no idea. Just take both."
Buffy nodded and placed the two articles into her duffel bag. "You obviously got the brains in the family, Dawnie."
"And somehow I managed to get the looks too," she said with a smirk. She picked up her suitcase and ducked away from her sister's fierce expression, walking out of the room and down the stairs.
"Looks. Pfft," Buffy muttered. She leaned down to retrieve her boots, and discovered a second pair of boots underneath her bed.
"Quite the aggravating bint, eh? Reminds me of you."
"Uh-huh," Buffy said absentmindedly as she examined the four shoes before her. The brown ones would be good for running, but the black ones made her taller. Reason told her to take the brown ones; if they were going to be fighting, comfortable shoes were necessary. But she hated when she felt all short.
Spike took in an uneasy breath. "So I suppose we need to have that uncomfortable relationship talk sometime soon."
"Uh-huh." Still focused on her footwear dilemma, Buffy sighed in surrender and shoved both pairs into her already-overstuffed bag. She turned towards the doorway. "What?"
Spike was doing that thing she hated where he seemed to stare holes into her body. His mouth was tight, as if approaching a difficult subject. The impending serious conversation made her skin crawl immediately.
"Oh," Buffy said, feeling much like a deer right before it was flattened by a truck. "Talking, yeah. Um…no." She went back to her overflowing duffel and began trying to squash the clothing down so that she could zipper it. "No talking. Talking is bad and, um…" She stopped and took a deep breath, wondering why the idea of a conversation with Spike was far more frightening than so many other things they'd done together, things which were often carnal, perverse, and illegal in 28 states.
She forced herself to look back at him. "Well, here's what I'm thinking," she explained. "Let's say we have some really god-awful, screaming, fighting, crying angst-o-rama, and then in a week or so, poof! End of days." Confident in her logic, she nodded gravely. "After we're dead, we'll feel pretty silly about going through all that for nothing."
"I'm already dead."
"You know what I mean." She turned back to her packing, putting the force of her slayer strength against the last protruding boot and managing to get her bag closed. "It's just…things are okay. They're almost…good." She smiled at the unintentional surprise in her voice. "I don't know how we did it, but we managed to make things almost good, and I just don't want to…"
Eyes still down, she felt him behind her without seeing him move there. Maybe it was that part of her Slayerness that could sense vampires whenever they were close. Or maybe just a change in the air, a presence where there hadn't been one before. But there was something besides vamp energy that she could also feel: apprehension with a twinge of excitement, those ever-present sensations of a new relationship. Except that this wasn't new. Nor officially a relationship. The sixteen-year-old stomach butterflies and stammering didn't apply here, but the cynicism and loneliness of the past year didn't work anymore either. Out of all the old crap of her life, something incredibly new had appeared, and while it wasn't at all simple, it wasn't all bad either.
"And then," she said. "When the earth isn't swallowed in a sea of molten lava or whatever, then we can talk."
He rested one hand lightly against her hip and his voice tickled at her ear. "I bet you say that to all the boys."
She closed her eyes and thought that she hadn't had a simple emotion in a long time. And she wasn't sure she missed them all that much.
tbc
Massive thanks to two amazing betas, Maggie and kittyb90, who gave me tons of help and ideas, and kept me from giving up on this chapter entirely.
The Team of Destiny is an actual organization. If you are a member of this organization, I'm sorry if I've misrepresented you, but I wasn't able to find a lot of information about you. Please feel free to e-mail me.
Spoilers for the Angel Season 3 finale.
"Bad enough I'm everyone's froofy man-bitch," Spike griped as he entered the dining room, his face still damp from washing off the makeup. "You gotta dress me up like a woman too?"
"We didn't actually *dress* you like a woman," Buffy mocked, her arms folded across her chest as she sat back against one of the dining room chairs.
"None of Buffy's dresses were long enough," Dawn added without raising her eyes from the laptop in front of her. "And Buffy said I'd be irreparably damaged from seeing your parts."
Anya reached over a pile of books and into the bowl at the center of the table. "Why, cause it's bent?" She looked up questioningly as she popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth.
Buffy put her hand over her face, looking as if she was unsure whether she should laugh hysterically or just crawl under the table.
"Bent?" Dawn suddenly lost interest in the computer screen. "What's bent?" she demanded, looking to Buffy and then Anya. "You mean….*ew!*"
"If we could remain focused on the impending destruction of the Earth…" Wesley sat with a pencil resting against his forehead, his eyes tired.
Spike scowled across the table at the man as he took the remaining chair next to Dawn. "Are you still here?"
"How did it get bent?" Dawn whispered to him, genuinely curious about this newfound knowledge.
"Guys, come on," Buffy said, leaning forward. She fought through a giggle and attempted her best tone of authority. "If there's an apocalypse coming, we need to be on top of it."
Spike's tongue made a brief appearance on his lower lip. "Oh I know exactly what you'll be on top of, Slay - *ow!*" He put his hand to his eye as the piece of popcorn which had struck him bounced into his lap.
"Isn't it a little early for an apocalypse?" Dawn huffed as she returned to her work. "Usually they don't happen until like, spring."
"This isn't just an apocalypse," Anya corrected. "This is the End of Days, with capital letters and everything."
Spike brushed the attacking popcorn to the floor, leaned his chair back, and put one foot on the table. "Been there, done that." He pointed at Wesley accusingly. "And we've filled our quota of British guys, so get out."
Wesley gestured to the open book in front of him. "Spike, if you would just listen to the proph -"
"Found it!" Dawn looked up from the monitor and grinned triumphantly.
"Found what?" Spike asked, peering over her shoulder.
"Wesley said the description of the first battle kept including the word 'destiny'," Dawn explained to him. "And there was a picture, see?" She reached across the table and pulled Wesley's book closer to them. In the corner of a page of indecipherable text was an illustration of what looked like a letter 'S', stretched out to resemble a river, or possibly a curved lightning bolt. Dawn gestured to the screen, where a similar design wound its way through photos of smiling couples.
Buffy opened her mouth to toss a piece of popcorn in, paused to consider the action a moment, and then decided instead to throw it at Spike's other eye. "Damn," she muttered to herself as it bounced off his temple.
"Team of destiny dot com," Dawn announced. "It's got all this vague stuff about *'making dreams come true' *and *'the power of a team'*. But it's password-protected, so I can't see any more specific stuff."
"I felt that, bitch," Spike said without looking up.
"Can't you just, you know…" Anya held out her hands and mimed typing by waggling her fingers. "Hack through it?"
Dawn shook her head. "My internet skills pretty much peak at the Google search."
Spike moved closer and read off the website. "*'Enjoy the rewards of life while pursuing worthwhile goals and aspirations.'* It's a cult," he said confidently." And it's got nothing to do with me."
"It has everything to do with you,"' Wesley argued. He let the pencil fall to the table, and his eyes flared with anger. "There's a prophecy about the end of days that specifically refers to the vampire with a soul."
"Then go bother the other one," Spike snapped. "I'm sure the prancing pillock can take time out of his busy schedule of combing his hair and trying to develop a third facial expression."
"You have a soul?" Dawn squealed.
Anya looked over at him, equally stunned. "Angel has two facial expressions?"
Dawn gave Spike an exploratory poke in the side. "You don't seem any different."
"Hey! Cut it out!" Spike tried to worm away from her, but his obvious discomfort only made her more determined. After receiving a particularly hard jab in his ribs, he slapped her arm away from him.
"Aaaaaah!" Spike doubled over immediately, his head in his hands.
"You seem the same to me." Dawn said with a wicked smile.
"He smells like cantaloupes now," Buffy told her.
"Is *that* what that is?" Dawn seemed relieved, as if a great mystery had just been resolved for her. "That smell's been driving me crazy all day. I thought we had some rotten fruit somewhere."
"Do you feel any different?" Anya asked him.
Spike raised his head. "I'm a little indigestive," he replied. "And I am not a rotten fruit!" he added, giving Dawn his best menacing look, which only made her giggle.
"Angel's missing." Wesley's abrupt comment brought the room to silence instantly. "Both he and Cordelia haven't been seen for months, and our - " He winced. " - *his* team has no idea where they might be."
Spike looked to Buffy to gauge her reaction, and was surprised that she didn't seem affected at all. The others followed his gaze, and Buffy responded by averting her eyes from them.
"When I saw Angel," she said, her voice distant, as if trying to keep the memory remote. "Last year, when I first came back, he talked about her. About Cordelia. How she'd changed so much, what a hero she'd become." She looked up at her friends and smiled sadly. "Nothing like the ex moving on to push you further into the spiraling depression." The room was quiet, and the squeak of Spike's chair as he brought his leg down from the tabletop seemed deafening. "They're probably together. And they're probably fine. And I don't want to work with him on this." Her tone was resolute as she met Spike's eyes. "So you're it, soul man."
Spike nodded almost imperceptibly. The scattered, dusty books on the table meant nothing to him, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let them tell him what to do. But if Buffy was asking…
Wesley cleared his throat. "Actually, after doing further research, I'm not sure the prophecies are referring to Angel at all. The book of Aberjian, where I first saw this information, is difficult to translate, and very vague."
"Vague prophecies? No way," Buffy mumbled sarcastically.
"The Book of Nihttaehw, which I found recently in the Nevada desert, predates the Aberjian, and was written by a tribe whose language evolved into several modern-day languages, so it's much easier to decipher." He opened the book in front of him to a page he had marked and pointed at a passage with his pencil. "Whenever it mentions the vampire with a soul, it says, *"vidahmurtah cohn halmah ay forzoh conzehnzah"*. That translates as -"
"The undead with a soul and a forced conscience," Anya interrupted. "Two things."
"At first I thought they were merely being repetitive," Wesley explained. "But then I spoke with one of my contacts, a warlock in Nigeria, and he told me about a vampire he had met there recently - "
"With a soul and a forced conscience," Spike concluded. "The chip." He sighed and lowered his head. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "This means I have to leave the house, doesn't it?"
Wesley reached out to retrieve the book that Dawn had been looking at. "This is the Tome of Ecinoslom, which had previously only existed as fragments. But Anya had a full copy of the text. It was always thought to be a work of fiction based on the Biblical Revelations. However, I believe that it's actually a companion piece to Nihttaehw and Aberjian, spelling out the specific battles of the End of Days." He flipped back a few pages. "This word here: *niitaai* is an arcane spelling of -"
"Could we skip the exposition?" Spike interrupted. "Just tell me what I gotta kill."
Wesley held his pencil up in a tight fist, almost as if it was a weapon. "Why does everyone always interrupt me?" he shouted.
"I liked you better when you were all British," Buffy commented softly.
Wesley sighed. "I'm still British."
Buffy gestured to his face. "Yeah, but now you got the whole facial hair thing going on. And where'd you get that cool scar?"
"Slayer," Spike said. "A little respect for the apocalypse, please."
"But when have the apocalypses ever respected me?" she said. Spike gave her a questioning frown, and she responded with a half-smile. "Sorry." She looked around at the others assembled at the table. "Sorry. I've just been holding onto that Angel story for so long; I'm all giddy now."
Her eyes worked their way back to Spike just in time to catch him mouthing, "I like it."
"So. Business." Buffy nodded determinedly to Wesley. "You and Anya keep doing the book thing, and I'll start rounding up the troops. You said this happens soon, right? So when? When does the world end?"
Wesley placed the pencil in the center of the book. "A week from tomorrow."
The others looked at him blankly for a moment, except for Anya, who was busy rearranging books to give herself better access to the snacks.
"So you're telling me we have eight days to prepare to battle the armies of hell and prevent total Revalationy chaos?" Buffy asked.
"Actually, you have seven and a half days," Anya said through a mouthful of popcorn. "And four separate battles."
"And…in four different locations." Wesley added, forcing a smile. "But they all do appear to take place in North America."
"Yay," Buffy said flatly.
Wesley looked down at the book again. "The first is somewhere in the Midwest. The second appears to be Southern Canada. The third is on the East Coast, and the fourth is on the West Coast, possibly here in Sunnydale."
"Road trip!" Dawn shouted out happily.
Buffy put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. "Great. I'll have to quit my job; there's no way I can get a week off." She shrugged. "Well, you can get the council to help us out with the cash flow, right?" She caught Wesley's embarrassed expression and sat up straight again. "Right…?"
"The council and I are….not on very good terms." Wesley lowered his head. "I was fired, as you know, and then there was an incident with Faith where -" He looked up at Buffy abruptly. "Wait a minute, you were *there*."
"I was where?"
"In LA, at Angel's," Wesley told her. "The Council came to capture Faith and we fought them off. How could you not remember?"
"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't taking notes on your life when I was trying to deal with Angel," Buffy said sarcastically.
Wesley folded his arms across his chest. "Perhaps if you weren't so busy 'dealing' with Angel, I wouldn't have been fired in the first place."
Buffy's eyebrows raised threateningly. "So now this is my fault? Angel's fault? Maybe if *you* weren't such a - "
"Could we stop talking about poncy Angel already?" Spike cut in. "I'm about to start dry-heaving." He gave Buffy a dismissive wave of his hand. "And don't worry about money. I can just go knock off a convenience store or something."
Buffy put her hand to her head as if in pain. "We can't save the world with stolen money."
"Why not?" Spike asked. "Seems to me preventing all the rivers of blood and whatnot makes up for one minor unarmed robbery."
"You can't commit a crime to do something good; they don't cancel each other out," Buffy attempted to explain. "It just doesn't work that way."
"Well it should," Spike asserted, raising his eyebrows defiantly.
"There's a bit more to the prophecy…" Wesley began, glancing down into his book and hesitating.
"Let me guess," Spike said sardonically. He slouched back against the chair with an over-exaggerated sigh. "After the world ends, I turn into a frog."
Wesley looked up at Spike, his chin high and proud. "Your reward is life, Spike. Provided that you can prevent the End of Days, you will turn human."
"*Human?*" Spike sat up in his chair and stared at Wesley. "I don't want to turn human! Humans are all a bunch of sodding idiots."
"Hey!" Dawn yelled.
Spike put his hand on her shoulder. "Except for you, bit."
Buffy cleared her throat loudly.
"And your sister's not bad either."
"I'm not a human so I'm not offended," Anya stated proudly.
Spike pointed across the table at Wesley. "But *you* are a sodding idiot."
"Will you stop pointing at me, already, you're like a ten-year-old chil -" His gaze shifted to Anya. "You're not human?"
"And if that's the 'reward' for saving all you worthless gits, I'm out." Spike folded his arms across his chest defiantly.
"Well, originally, yes," Anya explained. "But then I became a demon. And then I became human again. But then…"
"You can't be *out*," Wesley insisted, returning his attention to Spike. "This isn't a game of rugby; it's the destruction of all creatures, man and animal, human and demon -"
"Spike…" Dawn gazed at him with wide eyes and a piteous frown.
"Don't think I'm falling for that tilted-head, sad-puppy-dog look," Spike said sternly. "That's *my* bit; I'm immune to it."
"…and if you think about it, none of it was really my fault," Anya said.
Wesley shut the book in front of him. "We're all going to die," he muttered.
The chattering was immediately silenced when Buffy stood up, her face set in her familiar, determined, lead-the-men-into-battle expression. "So we got eight days. We can do this, but we're all going to have to get busy. Anya, I need you to take the computer and call Willow in England. The number's on the refrigerator. Try to get at least a location on this Team of Destiny thing. Wesley, open up that book again, and make sure we're chasing the right cult here. Dawn, take a walk to school while it's still light out; I'm pretty sure that the bookstore opened this week, so you can buy your books for this year."
Dawn groaned softly at the thought of schoolbooks.
"You better get moving," Buffy said firmly, but her face quickly softened into a smile. "You still have to pack."
Dawn's eyes lit up. "I'm going?" She grinned and leapt from her chair with a squeal. "I'm going!"
Buffy gestured to the front door.
"I'm going," Dawn said, and she rushed from the room, still smiling widely.
Buffy turned her attention towards Spike, and he regarded her warily.
"Spike, go home."
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
"We'll need knives, axes, crossbows," she continued. "Anything pointy and sharp. And pack some clothes, provided that you like, have a second outfit. We could also use your car, if that's still around."
He nodded. "Still got it. What about your mother's…?"
"It needs a lot of repairs," she told him. "Lately I haven't had the cash. Plus yours is already vamp-proof. While you're at home, ask Clem to nose around the demon bars for word on the next big bad. If the apocalypse is coming to town, there should be signs already."
"I'll also need - "
"In the hall closet," she said with a slight smile. "And try not to singe any of the nicer blankets."
She turned her attention towards the remaining two as Spike left the room. "We'll call the Magic Box daily to give you guys updates, and Wesley, you can stay here while we're gone." Her steely resolve seemed to weaken, and she put her hand to her chin thoughtfully. "The only problem now is how to finance our mini-crusade." She shot a guilty look towards the doorway. "Does it make me a bad person if I'm totally considering the unarmed robbery thing?"
Anya sat up straighter in her chair and smiled at Buffy until she got her attention. "I can help," she chirped happily.
"Help with money?" Buffy asked, beginning to look hopeful. "Really?"
"Now, I'm not talking *lots* of money," Anya said quickly. "But I can spare some, and it should be enough. All I ask in return is that I officially get credit for helping to save the world. And the guarantee of a high-quality afterlife, despite any past or future indiscretions."
"That's not really my decision -"
"Just say yes."
"Yes."
Anya stood up proudly. "Well then," she said. "What are we waiting for? Let's save the world."
*
"You know," Buffy said, looking down at her bed sadly. "Sometime I think, hey, I'm the Slayer. The Chosen One. I save people. Fight the big evil daily. Die and come back twice. There's nothing I can't face, no odds I can't overcome, no decision I can't make. And then…" She spread her hands to gesture at the two items on the bed. "This. I'm baffled."
Dawn put her suitcase down on the floor and looked at the two white tank tops lying on Buffy's bed. "I like the cottony one."
Buffy picked up the top by its thin straps. "I don't know. The other one's really comfortable, cause it's the built-in-bra type, but there's minimal support, which could be an issue when, you know, fighting big monster things."
Dawn nodded. "Best to go with the bra and tank combination."
Spike appeared at the doorway behind Dawn. "Got the car, stocked with weapons and bottled blood. And Anya's got a location, so we're ready to go."
Buffy whined softly and turned her attention back to the two shirts.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Clothes emergency," Dawn told him.
"Oh, for the love of my ass." Spike muttered, leaning his head against the doorframe.
Buffy held up the two tank tops in front of her. "Which one is better?"
Spike stared at the two identical shirts blankly. "They used to call me insane when I stuck railroad spikes through people's heads. But this reaches levels of psychosis that I've never even heard of."
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Boys have no idea. Just take both."
Buffy nodded and placed the two articles into her duffel bag. "You obviously got the brains in the family, Dawnie."
"And somehow I managed to get the looks too," she said with a smirk. She picked up her suitcase and ducked away from her sister's fierce expression, walking out of the room and down the stairs.
"Looks. Pfft," Buffy muttered. She leaned down to retrieve her boots, and discovered a second pair of boots underneath her bed.
"Quite the aggravating bint, eh? Reminds me of you."
"Uh-huh," Buffy said absentmindedly as she examined the four shoes before her. The brown ones would be good for running, but the black ones made her taller. Reason told her to take the brown ones; if they were going to be fighting, comfortable shoes were necessary. But she hated when she felt all short.
Spike took in an uneasy breath. "So I suppose we need to have that uncomfortable relationship talk sometime soon."
"Uh-huh." Still focused on her footwear dilemma, Buffy sighed in surrender and shoved both pairs into her already-overstuffed bag. She turned towards the doorway. "What?"
Spike was doing that thing she hated where he seemed to stare holes into her body. His mouth was tight, as if approaching a difficult subject. The impending serious conversation made her skin crawl immediately.
"Oh," Buffy said, feeling much like a deer right before it was flattened by a truck. "Talking, yeah. Um…no." She went back to her overflowing duffel and began trying to squash the clothing down so that she could zipper it. "No talking. Talking is bad and, um…" She stopped and took a deep breath, wondering why the idea of a conversation with Spike was far more frightening than so many other things they'd done together, things which were often carnal, perverse, and illegal in 28 states.
She forced herself to look back at him. "Well, here's what I'm thinking," she explained. "Let's say we have some really god-awful, screaming, fighting, crying angst-o-rama, and then in a week or so, poof! End of days." Confident in her logic, she nodded gravely. "After we're dead, we'll feel pretty silly about going through all that for nothing."
"I'm already dead."
"You know what I mean." She turned back to her packing, putting the force of her slayer strength against the last protruding boot and managing to get her bag closed. "It's just…things are okay. They're almost…good." She smiled at the unintentional surprise in her voice. "I don't know how we did it, but we managed to make things almost good, and I just don't want to…"
Eyes still down, she felt him behind her without seeing him move there. Maybe it was that part of her Slayerness that could sense vampires whenever they were close. Or maybe just a change in the air, a presence where there hadn't been one before. But there was something besides vamp energy that she could also feel: apprehension with a twinge of excitement, those ever-present sensations of a new relationship. Except that this wasn't new. Nor officially a relationship. The sixteen-year-old stomach butterflies and stammering didn't apply here, but the cynicism and loneliness of the past year didn't work anymore either. Out of all the old crap of her life, something incredibly new had appeared, and while it wasn't at all simple, it wasn't all bad either.
"And then," she said. "When the earth isn't swallowed in a sea of molten lava or whatever, then we can talk."
He rested one hand lightly against her hip and his voice tickled at her ear. "I bet you say that to all the boys."
She closed her eyes and thought that she hadn't had a simple emotion in a long time. And she wasn't sure she missed them all that much.
tbc