Author: Meltha
Rating: G, at this point.
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Casting spoilers for Angel season five: specifically, the two major casting spoilers. If you have no idea what I mean, it's probably better to wait to read this until after at least the first episode.
Distribution: Fanfiction.net and the Bunny Warren. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: A sequel to "The Other Side" of sorts. Spike has helped save the world and has earned a bit of rest, but it seems that other plans are in store for him.
Author's Note: Parts of this will make precious little sense unless you've read "The Other Side." Also, aside from knowing one character is being added and one subtracted from Angel, I don't know any spoilers, so this is just my odd (and probably incredibly naïve) version of what might have happened to our dear William.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Part 3"No," he said quickly, standing up. "No, there is no way that I am going down there again. I've been stuck either on earth or in limbo for almost 150 years! Dru said getting yourself martyred to stop the world from ending cleared Anya's slate, and she had several centuries on me in the naughty department. That should give me a nice, one-way ticket to Paradiseville, departure time right bloody now!"
Dru was beside the understandably upset soul in a moment, taking his arm gently. "William, would you walk with me a moment? Please?" she asked softly.
He grumbled but, as he always did with the brunette, he gave in. "Oh, very well, Dru. As you wish."
"Thank you. Tara, would you accompany us?"
Tara's head shot up in surprise. "Oh, um, sure."
Dru took her hand in one of her own and threaded her other through Spike's arm, leading both of them gently out of the study and off to a long expanse of grass that sloped down gracefully to a pond. A willow tree planted beside the still lake was reflected in the smooth water, and a few swans dotted the surface. A sandy path ran away in front of them, bending lazily back and forth until it reached the water, then skirted the edge of the bank. The luscious scent of apple blossoms filled the air, and a gentle breeze fluttered the leaves of the trees, making white puffs of clouds move slowly across the bright blue sky.
For a while, they walked together silently along the path. Eventually, they reached a bench wide enough to seat them all beneath the willow, and they sat down. Tara received a rather abrupt shock at this point as she noticed Spike was no longer leather-clad and blond but rather dressed in a gray suit that would have been fashionable in the previous century and had a mop of tousled light brown curls, not to mention spectacles on the edge of his nose. She raised her eyebrows at the change, realizing this must be what he'd looked like as a human.
Spike was momentarily embarrassed at this lapse. When he was alone with Dru, it had seemed perfectly normal to appear this way simply out of habit. During his first stay in limbo, he had occasionally affected the dress of whatever time was passing on earth, and Spike's black wardrobe was also part of him now, but this somehow always felt like home to him.
"It's okay," Tara said, suddenly aware that he wasn't at ease. "You… you look… nice?"
"Yeah, nice," Spike grated out. "That's me. I'm a real nice guy. Always finish last, they do. Let me guess. This place is your creation, isn't it?"
"Yeah, how could you tell?" Tara asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Big honking willow tree might have been a clue," Spike said, staring up into the branches overhead. "She does miss you too, you know, in spite of that whole Kennedy thing," he added honestly when he saw a shadow creep into her eyes, and a half-smile curled her lips. "So, what exactly did you want to say to me, Dru?"
Drusilla sighed and looked out over the water, pausing for breath before she spoke. "William, no one would blame you for wanting to move on. You're quite right. You've earned your spot in heaven. Your soul must be very tired by now, I imagine."
Spike's eyes held a faraway look as he also watched the birds gliding over the ripples. "Yes," he eventually answered. It was a simple statement, but the fatigue in his voice spoke more volumes than a whole library. The catalogue of his trials was very long, and Drusilla merely took his hand in hers and squeezed.
"I don't want to ask you to do this," Drusilla said. "It's unfair, I know. The number of souls you've helped in this place is beyond count, and all it would take for you to spring into Heaven is a simple step. One moment, and you would never experience pain or frustration or heartache or fear again, only perfect bliss. But you need to understand what's at stake here, William."
Tara watched the two, keeping her silence. She couldn't help but wonder why Drusilla had invited her here in the first place. The two of them were obviously deeply connected to one another, and while she saw no bonds of Eros in their auras, there was a tremendous sense of friendship and love between them. She felt like an intruder.
He looked at Dru and a bittersweet smile split his face. "What would it be this time? The fate of the world again? Isn't that a little passe by now for me?"
"Not exactly the fate of the world," Drusilla answered, "but there is a grave problem on the horizon. There are two roads ahead, and which one will be taken by a great many people depends on you. Tara, dearest, my Sight gives only me the power to see what lies ahead. Could you do me the favor of casting a spell, allowing William to see through my eyes for a bit?"
"I think so, but I'll need to be part of the chain as well," Tara said, understanding her part in all this. "Just keep your hands joined and close your eyes."
As they did so, Tara willed into being the needed supplies, carefully sprinkling a circle of sacred herbs around them, then placing her own hands on top of theirs. She uttered a silent incantation that allowed the opening of the inner mind, then abruptly found herself with Spike and Dru in the middle of a posh office.
"This is the first road," Drusilla explained, "the one without you."
Angel entered the room, and Spike was surprised to see tears on his face. He walked with slow steps to a small shelf on one side of the room. It was cluttered with framed photographs, most of them of people neither Spike nor Tara knew, but occasionally Angel appeared in the smiling groupings. However, there were two people that Spike did recognize.
"I remember this one," he said, gesturing towards a photo of a fair-skinned man with black hair and vibrantly blue eyes. "Irish fellow. Worked for Angel when Spike… I… I'm starting to have serious trouble with pronouns here. Bloody hell, he worked for Angel during the Ring of Amara debacle."
Drusilla looked at the picture. "Doyle, a half-demon. He died not long after that, giving his life for others."
Spike took in the picture again, noting that Angel hadn't moved at all. "Well, something in common between us, then."
"Actually, a surprisingly great deal in common. You died in nearly exactly the same manner," Drusilla said, a note of sadness in her voice. "It wasn't supposed to happen, though. The darker forces danced gleefully over his fall. You see, the visions were originally his, and he passed them on to Cordelia at the moment of his death. She was never intended for that."
Spike looked at several pictures of Cordelia that were scattered across the shelf as well, most of them showing her trademark enormous smile. The rest of the pictures, though, remained a mystery to him: a young woman with long brown hair and doe eyes, an African-American man with a bald head and a know-it-all grin, another man who had changed so much over the years that Spike was hard-pressed to tell it was the same person in the glasses and Giles-like suits who was also appeared in other images as a man with a throat scar and world-weary eyes, and a dark-haired young boy who had eyes like Darla. There was also a strange demon with a green face and red horns who was dressed like Liberace on acid. As they stood there, Angel pulled another photograph from his pocket, setting it beside the others: Faith.
"I don't understand," Spike finally said as he watched his grand-sire stand motionless before the pictures, his eyes dead.
"Those are the people he loved most, William," Drusilla said softly. "His co-workers, his friends, his son: each one of them is gone now, a victim of the visions. The Powers will pass them on to someone: they need Angel too much to let that pipeline disappear. However, each person they chose will only survive for a very limited time before the visions destroy them. Angel has watched all of them die, one by one, and he believes it's his fault."
"He's not the one picking them off. Why should he feel guilty?" he asked, his brows knitting together as he felt a most definitely Spike part of him wanting to call the vampire a brooding lunkhead.
Drusilla's voice quavered a bit when she answered. "It doesn't matter whether he's really to blame or not. I did the same thing. Still do, sometimes."
The corners of Tara's mouth twisted in sympathy and Spike felt momentarily ashamed of himself, but Drusilla firmly pressed his hand and motioned back towards the scene taking place.
Angel had trudged with the steps of an old man over to his desk and was sitting there, looking at his large hands helplessly. The phone rang, shattering the quiet, and it continued to ring several times until at last Angel summoned enough strength to answer it.
"This had better be important," he said, and though the words should have sounded like a threat, they came out almost pleading. A long silence followed, and Angel's eyes fell closed as he dropped the receiver to the floor, splintering the plastic. He was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and Spike knew the signs of coming unhinged all too well from personal experience. Whatever had happened, it was too much for him.
"Dru?" Tara asked in concern. "What did they say?"
"It was Giles. He called to ask Angel if he had any idea why Buffy had just collapsed on the floor with a splitting migraine while she had a vision of a demon attacking Angel on Rodeo Drive," Drusilla said, her voice full of pity.
"Buffy? They'll pass the line on to Buffy?" Spike said in horror. "But, if Faith died…"
"It would kill her in time, yes," Drusilla said. "But that's not what happens. Watch."
Angel suddenly seemed to pull himself together, then stood and walked very deliberately to a bookcase and removed a single volume. He put his hand into the empty space it had left and appeared to flip a hidden switch. Immediately, the wall pulled away and there behind it stood an older man in a smart business suit, a contented smile on his face.
"I told you that you'd want to use that eventually," he said with satisfaction. "Have you finally decided to come to an agreement with us?"
Angel stared at the man for a minute before hitting him so hard that he flew into the wall behind him.
"If I give you my soul, become Angelus again, that will sever the link, right, Holland?" Angel snarled.
"Yes, yes, the link will be destroyed, no one else will die, Buffy will return to full health. I give you my word of honor, Angel," Holland said, sounding amazingly undisturbed for someone whose body had just left a deep imprint in the cinderblocks behind him.
"You have no honor, but I know your kind well enough that you won't cheat on this kind of deal. Do it," Angel muttered. "You finally win."
Tara's mouth dropped open in shock as she saw Angel's soul sucked out of him at his words, forced into a glass bottle in Holland's hands and shrieking in agony. Spike, however, was instead looking at the slow smile that gripped Angelus's face, and he was convinced in that instant that the world as they knew it was doomed.
"I understand why he did it," Spike said slowly, "and I'd have done it too for Buffy. But we can't allow this to happen. The other option, Dru, if I choose to go back, what will happen?"