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 4
"That will be his choice, of course," she said. "He could still slip and lose everything. Watching over Angel is an exhausting challenge, I've found. But if all goes well, his future would be this."
The three found themselves in a beautiful park, in broad daylight, standing by a white latticework gazebo and looking at a small group of people within. Dawn, now in her mid-twenties, was wearing a lovely pale blue gown, as were Willow, the brunette woman from the photograph, who was crying into an embroidered handkerchief, and Faith, who appeared extremely ill at ease in the satin and lace. Xander stood to the side, looking unmistakably grumpy in a tuxedo, and the similarly clad green demon, bald man, and man with the throat scar from earlier crowded around. When they moved slightly out of the way, it became plain what was happening as a beaming Giles put a radiant Buffy's hand into Angel's before a justice of the peace. The shaft of sunlight that it was all taking place in left no doubt.
"He's human?" Tara asked in surprise. "That can, like, happen?"
"For Angel, it is possible, and if he lasts that long, then yes, there is no doubt. He will marry Buffy," Drusilla said, watching the emotions fly over Spike's face.
"Let me get this right," he ground out. "If I do nothing, Angelus is going to make the world a living hell for the entire human race. If I come back and do my job properly, he's going to marry my soulmate? That's one hell of a choice, Drusilla."
"Yes, it is. I'm sorry, William," she said as Angel slid a claddagh ring onto Buffy's finger once more, the heart facing inwards. "I know this is painful for you, but you need to understand what the possible consequences of your choices will be. I won't mislead you."
Spike leaned close to Buffy's face, watching her smile more joyfully, more completely, with more of her soul, than he had ever seen her smile anywhere except in Limbo. In his arms. In their bed. When she and Angel kissed passionately and their assembled friends applauded as the two were formally introduced as husband and wife, the rage in him swelled until he could stand no more.
"Enough!" he yelled, letting go of Drusilla's hand and snapping them all back into the reality of the pond. "That's no choice at all!"
Surprisingly, it was Tara who touched his shoulder, and though he pulled away, she didn't budge.
"I know what it's like to see someone you love move on," she said honestly. "I know it hurts, Spike. But you did see her. She's really happy in that reality. I've watched you for the past year, and I know you love her. I know you wanted to give her that happiness, and now you can. It won't be how you wanted it to be, but you would still be responsible for it."
Spike looked at her, and his eyes were filled with unashamed tears. "You're a rare one, pet. I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can bear it."
"You've already weathered so much," Drusilla said softly. "It's a very great storm, but I believe you can survive it as well."
Drusilla rested her head against his shoulder comfortingly, and Spike was surprised to feel Tara nestling her head on the other one. The three sat there for a very long time, each nursing their own wounds: one remembering the pain and guilt she had felt when she had lost everyone she held dear, one recalling being reunited at last with her true love only to have a senseless act rip her away, and one haunted by the knowledge that the only way his beloved would know happiness in her life was if he delivered her into the arms of another man. As it had turned out, the Cockney seer, the Victorian idealist, and the Wiccan lesbian had more in common than most would have supposed. Loss had bonded them.
Ages seemed to pass, each one weighing more heavily than the last, until at last Spike spoke.
"So, how do I go back, then?" he asked, sounding terribly weary.
Drusilla turned her head and smiled at him proudly. She had known that once he had seen what could happen, he would agree to return. When this one would finally have peace, it would be in incomprehensible bliss, of that she was sure.
"Not now, my treasure," she said, leading the three of them from the bench and back up the path. "You need rest first. There is no call for you to return for several months at least, and I intend to see that you make the most of them. Come, let's tell Cordelia and Harmony of your decision, and then you can sleep. I'm sure you need it."
As they walked, Spike self-consciously became blond again, followed by a complete switch to his usual clothing before they reached the study. The scene they found was not exactly what they had left.
"Hey," Cordelia called over her shoulder. "Like what I've done with the place?"
Spike stared at the far too pastel room, which had noticeably fewer books, a very large number of magazines scattered on the floor, and a rather prominent portrait over the fireplace. While it at first glance it appeared to be the Mona Lisa, the face now closely resembled one Cordelia Chase. The subject of the portrait was currently sitting on the floor with Harmony, in the act of applying lipstick to the other girl.
"See, I told you that a peach-based red was more your thing than a red-based peach," Cordy said sagely, holding up a mirror for Harmony. "Dru, Tara, when you gonna let me do your make-up?"
Drusilla and Tara exchanged a look that clearly stated several hell dimensions would freeze over before either of them was going to let the debutante anywhere near them.
"Perhaps later, Cordelia," Dru said firmly. "William has come to a decision."
"I'll go," he announced without fanfare.
"Cool," Cordy said as she turned back to Harmony. "Now, about that blush you're using. Totally wrong. You need something less carnation and more geranium."
Spike's eyes nearly rolled out of his skull as he left the study, intent on finding a place to rest. Oddly enough, it was Tara who followed him.
"Uh, Spike?" she asked uncomfortably.
It's all right, Glinda. I don't bite anymore," he answered, trying to put her at ease.
"I know, it's just… look, Dru and I have talked a lot in the last year, and I figure you probably don't have a place to go yet that isn't connected to, you know, memories and things," she said.
Spike hadn't even thought of that yet. She was right. Every single setting of his own he had shared with Buffy when she had been here, usually quite intimately, and the idea of coming up with something new for himself was out of the question because of his exhaustion.
"You've got me there, luv," he agreed.
"If you want, you can borrow one of mine. Something, you know, un-frilly," she offered. As she spoke, the world around them slowly became a forest of very tall trees with silver moonlight filtering down between the branches. Birdsong from high above lulled the senses, and a circular stairway coiled up one of the trunks to a platform with what looked like a very soft, sage green velvet covered bed.
Spike looked around, a small frown forming between his brows. "I've seen this place before somewhere."
Tara looked guiltily at the spreading branches and bit her lip. "Umm, I kind of like Lord of the Rings…"
Spike felt a true laugh break out of him, the first in a very long time, startling the birds in the trees above. "Tara! I'd never have pegged you as having a thing for Legolas!"
"No, I don't, really, it's just…" She sighed helplessly. "Okay, I do. Don't tell Willow, please?"
"My lips are sealed," he promised as she disappeared, leaving him in peace to sleep undisturbed in his own private Lothlorien. "Well, as long as that prissy archer doesn't show up and try to have his wicked way with me, at least," he added under his breath.
Feeling so deeply tired that his feet seemed to be made of sacks of lead, he climbed the winding stairs until he reached the bed, then collapsed, still wearing his beloved duster, into the pile of soft velvet. He was instantly in a dreamless sleep, never stirring a muscle. Several days would pass before he would open his eyes again.