This time, he knows he will remember. Everything. He has to. Because without it, without her, how can he be? She is inside him now, folded in and out, indiscernible, his soul branded with the image of her face, the shape of her body haloed in the yellow light as she stands in the doorway. The slight, familiar slip of her shoulders, the curve of her lower back, all these things are real and solid to him now, and he is unable to accept that they will fade, melt through his fingers like snow. Closing his eyes his finds her there and holds her, tight, tight, knows that no one, nothing can take her from him again. Tells himself that over and over while she watches him from a few feet away, eyes drifting over his face.
"Are you ready?"
Her voice was the same of course, soft and calm, but now he knew it, more than knew, he understood everything that had shaped the way she was. He saw her and saw through the perfectly composed exterior to the glittering fragile creature inside.
::please don't make this any harder than it is::
Pushing himself off the bed he stood, felt around on the floor for his boots in a kind of daze. When his fingers closed over the second one, he paused for long moment before pulling it on.
"So what do you think'll happen afterwards?"
Her stillness was eerie, her whole body seeming frozen in a casual pose that was anything but. She shook her head slightly.
"I don't know. You'll just wake up...like before I guess...only this time...."
"This time there'll be nothing left."
Her expression tightened,
"There'll be everything left. Everything. You'll have another chance to..."
"To what? Live? Spare me..."
Pulling the straps tight he shoved his toe down hard into the ground.
"All this stuff I supposedly did? Saving the world, being the big hero, you'd think I'd at least get a choice in the matter. Get to decide whether I remember or don't. Seems to me my reward for saving the world is losing it."
He saw her move at last, unfreezing. Taking a step back towards him, she sat down on the corner of the bed.
"I don't know."
Her expression was guarded, wary of his reaction to what she was about to say, and he frowned.
"What don't you know?"
"I don't know if..." she stopped, "I think maybeit's right."
He tried not to gape then, to stare at her in horror, but the pain was suddenly acute, a cold fist squeezing his heart.
"Right...that I forget you?"
Her hand reached for his but he pulled away, still in shock. Pained she reached for him again, captured his fingers and dragged him down beside her.
"That's not what I meant. How could you even..." she shook her head, " I meant that I know what it's like to have to live with pain. And I know how hard it was for you to live with the memories of what happened to you, what you've done. You changed everything to become a better man, but you couldn't change who you'd been."
Her gaze pulled at his, and love and respect for her strength and wisdom overwhelmed him again. Leaning forward he touched his lips to her hair-line, saw her smile as she leant into him, her hand twisting to nest inside his.
"And what about you?"
"What about me?"
"If this time loop thingy goes right and we go back to the start again - you won't remember anything either. About this I mean, about what's happened to me. You'll think I'm dead all over again."
She stiffened a little, pulling back.
"Spike, I told you..."
"I know, 'you'll survive'."
"I did." she said simply, "I will again. I know what I said before, but you shouldn't worry about me. 'The Slayer forges strength from pain'. And I want this for you. I want you to live."
Her hand lifted to his face, smoothing back a curl that had fallen into his eyes,
"That's what I think you deserve."
* * * * * *
Watching Fred put the finishing touches to their carefully mapped pentangle on the floor of the foyer, Willow was trying her very hardest not to look as nervous as she felt, and she was failing miserably. Ever since she had assured Buffy that 'a simple temporal fold' would solve all their problems, she'd been fighting tummy butterflies the size of fruit bats. 'Cause, just where did she get off being so darned blasé about the laws of temporal physics and the theories of relative dimensions anyway? What had happened to the classic Rosenberg reserve of old, the need for constant checking and rechecking of the facts before jumping right on in there with both feet? Sure she was confident it would work but, heck, what if it didn't? Had she even really considered that fact? The hundreds of possible messy, bizarre and ultimately catastrophic ways in which she could spectacularly fail? Had her brain even really dealt with the likelihood that, by messing with the events of the last apocalypse, she might actually cause not only Spike's death but everyone else's too? Preventing their victory over the Turok H'an and making Buffy's hellish vision of a future ruled by Über-Vamps a reality?
A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and she swallowed noisily. OK, way to go over the top, let's not get carried away hey? Just a teensy little temporal fold after all! How hard could it be to get right and, forcing herself to relax, she checked the time again before darting a surreptitious glance at her other assistant.
Seeming perfectly calm, Giles was poring over the text of the spell they'd found, mouthing the words silently as he inscribed the translation into the pages of his notebook. Becoming aware of her scrutiny he looked up, and after a second gave her a reassuring nod.
"It all seems fairly straightforward. I mean...the syntax is a little...jumbled in places but I don't think we should have any problems."
Her poise finally disintegrating, Willow's shoulders slumped, eyebrows drawing together in an anguished frown.
"You say that and see...now I'm thinking you really shouldn't have said that. You know how we always say things like that and then..."
Her flailing hands described an explosion of epic proportions, and rolling his eyes Giles quietly closed the book.
"Willow, two weeks ago I saw you work perhaps the most powerful act of sorcery that this world has ever seen, with the only side-effect being a few white hairs. You are entirely capable of this and we all have every faith in you."
"You do?"
"We do."
Her smile flickered briefly and he returned it again, before bending his head patiently back to his task. Envying his composure, Willow wished she'd taken his earlier advice when he'd suggested she take time to relax and focus her energies, instead of fussing and dithering in what she thought of as classic pre-Magic-Willow fashion. Sucking in a deep breath she tried to envisage her power centre; the white glowing light she could draw all the power and strength she needed from, felt it suffuse her with the sure knowledge that everything would be fine. Yes. She had only to stay calm, trust in her own power and that of the Earth and let herself become one with it's gentle rhythm. Trust in the good of the strength she knew it would afford her. Opening her eyes with a beatific smile, she was startled to find herself staring directly into the pale, nervous face of Fred.
"OK, don't be mad but I may have gone a bit crazy with the sacred sand. We're all out and I still have another two feet to go," the jittery girl grinned at her a little unsteadily, "And is it just me, or is anyone else real scared we're going to screw this all up?"
* * * * * *
It never rained in California.
He couldn't remember who'd sung the song now, but listening to the faint familiar tune emanating from the car's stereo, Angel had a faint uncomfortable feeling that he may have even bought the single. It'd been during the whole seventies period when he'd actually started feeling a little good about himself again. The cravings had been pretty much under control, he'd found a fairly reliable and relatively understanding butcher and, aside from the reoccurring and horrific nightmares, he was finally managing some kind of semi-human existence. He hadn't had friends of course, no one who knew him by sight even, he'd always been careful to avoid frequenting any area of the city for longer than a week at a time. Humans were curious creatures, and he'd come to realize that a tall, dark handsome vigilante tended to provoke more than just a sideways glance from most.
During that period though, he'd found himself drawn to a particular place, a particular district of the city more and more. A small, dimly-lit record store just off the strip that opened its doors at 8pm exactly every single night. It was a quiet little place at first, but word of its unusual opening times soon got around. Kids with nowhere else to go at night but the streets, began to gravitate there as soon as they'd hooked up with the rest of their gang. Hanging in groups of ten or more around the entrance, 'Dinny's Discography' slowly became less of a meeting place and more a kind of alternative club land for post-pubescents.
Maybe it was because of this that Dinny, the middle-aged store owner, had actively welcomed the company of the pale monosyllabic loner; his faint nod of acknowledgement slowly becoming a smile and then finally a friendly greeting. For the first time in years the vampire had given someone his true name and, after a week or so more, had actually felt moved to ask for one in return. The small act of trust had brought him out in a cold sweat of fear and confusion, but it seemed little enough payment for what 'Dinny's' accorded him. Night after night Angel would stand, headphones jammed over his ears, toe tapping faintly to the beat of whatever was making the charts that week, and for just a few hours he would feel normal, part of something else. People came and went, young girls in those skinny hot-pants that were the thing that year, guys in their bell-bottoms, and he wouldn't even notice their smell, wouldn't even see them. Closing his senses to anything but the music, he'd stand and listen to 'The Bee Gees', 'Yes', to 'Barry Manilow', soaking in the warm, technicolor love of a generation, until he felt the inevitable tap on his shoulder that told him that his time was finally up.
Then, one weekend in late November of that year the little store had closed down, and after a week or two a place that sold brightly colored handbags moved into the vacant lot. Staring through the darkened window at night, Angel had found himself consumed with an inexplicable cold, black rage that had bent him double to vomit in the gutter. Whether it was the disgust he felt at his own pathetic weakness - for the still human part of him that had craved a tenuous connection with life - he wasn't certain, but later he'd climbed the fence of a park petting-zoo and killed a young deer, dragging it down by the throat and slaughtering it like the animal he knew he truly was. The next day he'd hopped a train south to New Orleans, and hadn't felt the need to return to L.A until five years had passed and the memory of his momentary aberration was well and truly dead.
Now, snapping off the radio, Angel couldn't help but wonder at the strength of emotions a simple tune could still dredge up in him. Like nearly all of his memories, it was one best left buried deep and, pushing the convertible to an even more hair-raising speed, his expression hardened once more into one of stoic determination. Running a red light at sixty, he barely glanced at the Volvo that fishtailed out into traffic behind him, horn blaring. Instead he stared grimly through the rear-view mirror at the empty back seat reflected there. Slapped the gear shift up into fifth and took the last corner at a harsh 45º degree angle, gritting his teeth as he glanced briefly down at his wrist. His time was almost up, and for maybe only the second time in his entire wretched life, he actually had somewhere he had to be.
* * * * * *
"OK, where are they? My watch says ten to eleven already. Does yours? Am I fast?"
Rising wearily from his seat on the couch, Xander checked his own wrist to confirm and then gave his best friend a placatory smile.
"It's OK, I'll go find them..."
Willow shook her head,
"No. No, it's" she swallowed nervously, "It's fine. We still have a few minutes."
Sitting back down Xander leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Probably just saying their goodbyes."
"I guess."
"Or she's wishing him luck."
"Mm hmm."
"You don't think they're...." he raised an eyebrow suggestively.
"No!" she darted a sharp look at him, "They'll be here."
Checking her watch yet again, she patted her pockets to reassure herself that she had everything she needed and her brow furrowed a little as she realized she'd left the good luck charm Kennedy had bought her upstairs in her bedroom. It was just a silly little thing, no power whatsoever, but she'd promised her faithfully she'd wear it against her heart every day until they were together again, and now she'd gone and left it on the nightstand. She frowned again, more deeply. So ok, what the hell did that mean?
"What's a matter? You getting the 'Colly-Wobbles'?"
"What does that even mean?"
"No idea. It's some Brit thing."
Turning, Xander stared across the foyer at the empty staircase.
"What do you say to someone in a situation like that anyway? I mean it's not like either of them are going to remember anyway. Spike'll be 'the man with no name' again, and Buffy'll be" he pursed his lips a little, "Either way, he gets off easy."
"Xander!"
Willow's voice was soft and reproachful, and he turned back to look at her.
"Well he does."
"He still loses Buffy."
"Yeah, but he won't know that."
His friend's eyes searched his sadly before dropping to the ground. She sighed,
"I justwish it could have turned out differently. For all of us."
Looking away again, Xander's face hardened,
"Yeah well it didn't. And it won't."
Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out again slowly,
"Not all mistakes can be put right with magic. Some of us have to live with that."
* * * * * *
Tapping softly on the door of Dawn's room, Giles hesitated on the threshold before slowly pushing it open. At first glance the place was empty but, turning to leave, he caught a glimpse of one of her blue Keds lying on the bathroom floor. As he watched it the toe shifted slightly, pulling back out of sight.
"Dawn?"
He could hear her breathing, a little unsteady and throaty as if she'd been crying hard, and he leaned in closer against the wall. He'd guessed that she would be hiding somewhere from everyone. Despite all the growing up she'd done over the last year, her emotions at times like this were still beyond her control, and the need to hide that fact from her sister and her friends was of the utmost importance to her. Smiling sadly to himself, Giles wondered if she knew how much more of an adult that made her seem to him.
"I think you should come downstairs."
There was a soft choking sound, like a dry laugh, and the Ked reappeared again.
"What if I don't want to? Are you going tomake me?"
Putting his head around the corner he found the girl hunched awkwardly on the floor between the sink and the toilet, her legs drawn up against her chest. Her face, mottled and blotchy with tears, was filled with a kind of hopeless defiance.
"Well?"
Quietly, Giles stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. The little bathroom was barely big enough for one person let alone two and, leaning back against the door he tried not to look as if he found the whole situation ridiculous.
"Why don't you want to?"
Dawn's eyes widened and she started to laugh again, incredulous and pained. Stopped.
"Maybe becauseI can't think of what to say?"
"To Spike?"
Her jaw tightened, as if she'd detected something in his tone she didn't altogether like.
"Yeah, to Spike," her eyes dropped to stare at the floor, "I mean it's not as if it matters anyway. It's not as if he'll remember anything I say, or anythinganyway."
"It might make you feel better."
He smiled, meaning to sound conciliatory, but the look she gave him made him uncomfortable.
"Yeah, but then you see, that doesn't really matter either, 'cause once he's gone none of this will have happened anyway will it? Everything since we left Sunnydale gets all bent back on itself. Back to square one right? And we all start over."
Surprised, Giles paused a moment before nodding.
"Except everything will still be gone and he and Anya will be just as" she stumbled, tears spilling out down her cheeks and without thinking Giles reached down for her, pulling her into his arms. Smoothing her hair back from her face, he rubbed her back in small soft circles, wondering yet again at the deeply paternal feelings Dawn always inspired in him; the need to protect and shelter her as strong that for her sister at the same age. Helplessly, he repeated the words he always did in these kind of situations;
"It'll be OK. Don't worry, everything will be alright".
Dawn pulled back to stare at him,
"But it never is though Giles," a small pale smile tugged at her lips, "How come it never is?"
* * * * *
Seated, she thought, completely out of sight at the top of the staircase, Faith started a little as Wesley suddenly dropped down beside her. Her former Watcher seemed to take great delight in catching her off guard these days, and covering her surprise to see him she turned her head slightly to one side. Gave him her patented slow 'n' easy smile.
"Thought you'd be busy up at Hell Incorporated? Don't your guys have something to say about all this?"
"Our guys?"
Faith arched an eyebrow,
"The suits. Aren't they even interested in what's going on done here? Wiccagal about to send time all freaky and shit."
"Why should they be?"
His cool tone confused her a little and she shrugged, turned back to watch what the others were doing down in the foyer. Xander didn't seem to be helping much and Willow was starting to look pissed at him, couldn't quite catch what they saying though. Maybe he didn't think this was such a good idea either. Wesley cleared his throat, and she looked across at him from the corner of her eye.
"No, if there's anything I've come to realize about the Senior Partners, it's that they're nothing if not fatalistic. It's actually rather disturbing," he frowned, "Almost as if nothing we do matters."
Faith shrugged again,
"What's so disturbing about that?"
He shot her an irritable look and she grinned back at him provocatively,
"Well shit! If nothing we do matters, it doesn't matter what we do right? Can smack who we like, fuck who we like, drink and fucking eat what ever we like? Hell, sounds like heaven to me!"
"And no matter what we try to do to change it, the events in our future cannot be prevented. Innocent people will still suffer and die, our friends will still be taken from us one by one, and we will hunt the same evil and it, in turn, will hunt us until the end of time."
Slowly, Faith's smile wavered and died.
"OK, way to make with the upside."
He raised an eyebrow at her and, despite her annoyance, she had to fight a sudden desire to kiss him smack on the lips. Wesley confused the hell out of her. One minute he'd been some prissy English guy - who'd barely seemed able to lift a sword let alone use it - the next he was this sinewy shotgun-toting dish, with a set of abs she would dearly love to savour up close. Just looking at his jaw made her hot, the way the muscle in it twitched deliciously when he was angry or holding something back from her.
Downstairs, Willow was speaking softly to Fred now, their heads bowed and secretive as they discussed what was to come.
"You think she'll be able to pull it off?"
Wesley half nodded, looking down at them.
"The temporal fold?" he said softly, "Oh yes, I'm sure it's well within her capabilities?"
"And the other stuff?"
"Stuff?"
"Whatever this stuff is you know is coming, that you so obviously don't want to talk about right now?"
Faith eyed him steadily, and saw the familiar mixture of trepidation and stoicism flit across his face as he looked back at her. He opened his mouth as if to deny her words, but then shut it again.
"That I'm not so sure of."
Letting her shoulder fall back against him again, she let her weight rest there, letting his body support her, felt him do the same. Smiled.
"Hey, what ever it is, we'll be ready right?"
The man who had once been her Watcher smiled grimly.
"I'm sure we will." he said.
* * * * *
"OK!!!"
Breathing a great sigh of relief, Willow jumped to her feet as she saw Buffy and Spike finally appear at the top of the stairs. There were just a few more minutes to spare but, despite her earlier nerves, she now felt fully prepared to work the spell and control the power she knew she was about to unleash. Both her assistants had disappeared a few minutes before - who knew where - but since when did she need their help anyway? Grabbing her spell book from the front desk she advanced on her two friends with the look of a Wicca determined to make good.
A second or two later, Giles, his arm around Dawn's shoulder, emerged from the shadows behind them and, after exchanging a brief look with Faith and Wesley, all six made their way downstairs. From one of the upstairs side-corridors Xander stepped out, followed a few minutes later by Fred. Slowly, everyone descended, drawn from every corner of the room to the very centre of the pentangle, and as they gathered an intense heavy silence seemed to blanket them. All the sounds of the hotel, traffic, ticking clocks, seemed to melt away and the air around them shifted and swam.
"Weird," Xander's voice was strangely muffled, as if he was talking from inside a box, "Is it supposed to do this?"
"Do what?" Spike's words too were swallowed and he started in surprise.
"The circle's already begun focusing the power for the creation of the portal," Willow explained, her voice also dampened by the invisible wall around them. She shrugged casually, "All I have to do is direct it where and when."
"Right," rolling her eyes, Faith took a step or two backwards towards the office, "So should webe standing right in it then?"
Fred smiled at her reassuringly,
"Oh, it's quite safe. Right up until Willow says" she flushed as she realized that everyone, without exception, was staring at her in horror, "...until Willow says the word."
Her friend nodded, opening her book,
"OK, sowe should really get started."
Nine pairs of eyes exchanged looks of wary unease, and then slowly all but three of them receded to the edges of the room.
Left in the centre, Buffy and Spike stood close together - painfully aware of the fact that their fingers were still firmly intertwined. After a long moment Willow cleared her throat softly,
"UmmBuffy? Once the portal's fully opened no one can be inside the circle but us two," she looked down at their hands and then at both of them, "You're going to have to"
Neither of them answered, but slowly her friend's grip on Spike's hand lessened. His eyes widened, reaching for her and she stepped back a little.
"You have to go now."
"Wait, I didn't"
She smiled painfully,
"Yes you did. It doesn't matter."
Brokenly, he smiled back, his hand down dropping to his side. A soft intake of breath,
"Guess I'll maybe see you around then pet"
Her hand swiped roughly at her tears,
"I'll be keeping my eyes open."
"You do that. Take care of Dawn."
The pain in his chest refused to allow any more words and, wrenching his eyes away from her face, Spike turned to face Willow and smiled shakily.
"O.K then, lets get it over with."
Nodding, Willow solemnly bowed her head, opened her lips and spoke one single word aloud,
"Kú-chí," and then another in an entirely different tone, "Angel!"
Surprised, Spike raised his eyebrows as a shivering circle of light sprang to life behind her.
"Really? 'Angel' s the magic word? Bit of a coincidence."
"Nolook! Angel!!"
Turning to follow her gaze, Spike frowned as he saw the vampire in question burst through the hotel's front door, his leather coat billowing out behind him.
Despite his instinctive dislike of the guy, he couldn't help but acknowledge the coolness of the entrance, or the skilful way in which he slid to one side to duck Buffy's lightning quick attempt to stop him. The murderous look on his face as though, as he leapt straight through the crackling field of energy starting to surround them, that was the part he wasn't so sure about