Title: RETURN
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Like I could create these guys.
All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: A Spike-centric alternative ending (which you can bet will never happen) for Ep. 22 of this season, incorporating many (though not all) recent spoilers. The end of BtVS, and the beginning of The Spike Show.
SITUATIONAL SPOILERS - NOT MUCH
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 16. Things Which Are Not
Their faces grew sober in the warm light of the dining room as the implications of Giles' analysis sank in. For a while they'd tried to forget that the fight was truly never over. In silence, Buffy brought coffee and cups, and Dawn helped clear away the dishes. Giles sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, holding his glasses in one hand. He was the only one who hadn't managed to snatch any rest, and he knew his stamina was giving out. He looked around the table morosely. These exhausted children were all that stood between humanity and chaos -- again. Their drawn faces belied their youth; indeed, they looked almost as old as he felt. Even Spike. The weight of many battles was beginning to tell on them all.
Buffy looked almost fragile, with enormous eyes; Dawn's face was solemn and shadowed. Anya had the experience of a thousand-year-old demon, but the form of an ordinary, and at this point exceedingly weary, young woman. Xander was how old? Twenty-one? And he was beginning to look and behave like a bitter middle-aged man, a far cry from the coltish but brave and reliable ally he once had been. And these were the good guys, Giles thought desolately. The Powers that Be, the forces of righteousness, whom he served, had laid this burden on these once-innocent children, with so little might to tilt the balance in their favor.
Until now, perhaps. He considered Spike, and suddenly thought he was beginning to understand what he'd seen unfolding these past few years a little better. He wondered if any of them truly realized what a weapon they now had at hand. An animated weapon, with a will of its own, possessing unimaginable stores of knowledge; incredibly powerful, vastly experienced, utterly vicious -- and utterly loyal. And at once Giles saw the wisdom of merely adding souls without subtracting anything from Spike as he was, leaving him his demon, and even augmenting it -- because the demons' rage for battle would doubtless prove invaluable. He also saw the cold logic behind the plan; the conscious weapon could never be subverted away from his purpose. His fidelity was ensured by his immutable love for the Slayer. The strategy was heartless, but might prove frighteningly effective. Giles found himself perking up somewhat. Perhaps the odds weren't so long.
They all sat lost in thought for a while. "So something's going down soon, yes?" Xander said finally.
"I fear so." Giles replied. "It's a question of figuring out when, exactly."
"This sort of thing, only two ways it can go -- dark of the moon, or new moon. Either way, it's soon," Spike added.
"Exactly so. It's at the quarter now, and the moon is waning, so we have about three days, if I calculate correctly."
"So how can we prepare?" Buffy said.
Giles sat back in his chair. "As I see it, our best hope -- our only hope, I'm afraid -- is to prevent the Hellmouth from opening at all. In other words, be there at the right time and counteract the, ah, forces on the other side trying to break through."
"Well, we can bang it shut again if it just cracks a bit, but if that happens we'll also have to keep things from coming out," Spike said.
"'Things'?" said Xander.
"Hell beasts. Armies of darkness. You know, the usual drill. Save humanity, blood, death and destruction, yadda, yadda."
"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" said Xander, sudden hostility flaring. He couldn't help it. Spike was sitting at the family dining table just like one of the Scoobies, cozily established between Buffy and Dawn, for all the world like he was the man of the house. Both girls sat turned a little bit towards him, like they cared more about what he had to say than anyone else. Maybe they thought Xander didn't notice, but he did. The three of them traded smiles and familiar glances; it grated on Xander's nerves more and more. He wasn't a man at all, damn it. He might think he was some kind of super-Spike now, but he looked just like the old chip-addled, sex-obsessed blood-drinker. Xander wanted him gone.
"That's right, I would," Spike replied coolly to his rhetorical question, refusing to be provoked. "We're going to need all the forces we can muster. 'Cause when they do come out, they come out hungry, and they've usually got great big pointy teeth."
At that Buffy looked at him sharply, but simply asked, "Can I fight them?"
He turned to her. "Sure, we can fight them, love, but it would be a whole lot better to keep them from emerging at all."
"And here's our dilemma," Giles said. "Because we'll need magic, we'll need magic users. And right now, we don't have enough. We'll need to be positioned to cover the entire area, to strengthen the barrier where it's weakest, and Spike and I can only cover so much ground, so to speak."
"So, what, you need five? Like a pentagram? Can I do it?" Xander said instantly.
"Actually, I believe we could do it with four, if we have experienced magic users who can successfully channel a great deal of power. But that lets you out, Xander; I know you're familiar with rituals and so on, but this is a bit different. The energy would literally be flowing through your body, and it needs to be guided. Any mistakes would incinerate not only you, but several city blocks."
"Well, when you put it that way, I'd rather not be incinerated. I hate the smell of burning hair."
"No," Anya chimed in, "please, no incinerating. I prefer you whole."
"Thanks, hon."
"Anyway, we need you to back up Buffy, preferably with weapons, since Spike will be busy with, ah, sorcery," Giles continued. "Even if hell-creatures don't emerge, our everyday, garden-variety Sunnydale demons will probably be attracted to the scene by the dark energies that have been unloosed, which will complicate our task somewhat."
Anya raised her hand tentatively, and said simply, "I can do it. The power thing."
"No, Ahn! It's too dangerous!"
"I want to. It's something I know how to do."
"I thought you were giving all that up -- "
"We're talking about saving the world, Xander. Again. It's what we do. And I have to do what I can, just like everyone else." She said to Spike, "I have the experience. But I don't have any power anymore."
"I'll give it to you. Don't worry. You can do it."
For some reason, Anya grasped the depth of Spike's newly-given abilities more readily than any of them, and accepted them completely. She said, with complete confidence in her beautiful eyes, "Just tell me what to do."
This was too much for Xander. "Look, I don't want you doing this with him, I don't trust him, I don't want him involved in this. I don't even want him around. Nothing's changed, as far as I'm concerned," he said hotly.
Spike looked at him, still and flat-eyed as a coiled snake. Buffy gripped his wrist under the table. "Not exactly up to you, is it?" he said icily. "Not your call, that I can see."
"No, it bloody well isn't," Giles said with authority. "And if I may say so, Xander, this is hardly the time for tantrums. We've all been through an emotional strain, but this is more important than our individual feelings, whatever they might be. Quite frankly, Spike is our only chance. We can settle our personal differences later -- if we survive to do so. Is that clear?"
Spike, elaborately casual, lit a cigarette and said nothing. Dawn wordlessly rose and fetched him an ashtray in a delicate gesture of solidarity, and he flashed her a smile. He could sense Buffy's silent approval, too, at his refusal to be drawn. It felt good -- better than good -- to have his girls around him like this, backing him up, taking his side. It was something he hadn't experienced for a long, long time.
Xander sat tensely for a moment then raised both hands in front of him, palms out. "Okay, whatever," he said ungraciously.
Giles continued. "We still need one more adept, and, frankly, with Willow out of commission, I don't know where we'll find one."
"So Willow's definitely out of commission?" Xander asked.
"Yes!" "Yes!" "Yes!" Giles, Spike, and Buffy said together.
"Okay, okay, I was just asking."
"I have a suggestion. We know one more magic user who isn't evil," Buffy said. "Jonathan."
There was an outcry at this from Xander, Dawn, and Anya; Giles looked skeptical. "Really, Buffy, I don't see how we can trust someone who's already betrayed you once -- "
"He helped us in the end," Buffy insisted. "He took a risk for us." She met Spike's eyes for an extended moment. "And he deserves a chance -- a chance to redeem himself." Spike leaned towards her and took both her hands in his, and the protestations of the others faded away as they exchanged a long, tender look. She loved to see his face like that, emotions unfettered, trusting in her. "The chance we gave each other," Buffy whispered to him. He kissed her palms, one after the other.
At length they noticed that all discussion had died out, and the others around the table were staring at them with varying expressions, from Dawn's eager interest to Xander's revulsion. Giles' face was enigmatic. Spike recovered himself and nodded once. "Okay, I'm in," he said. "Jonathan it is."
"Buffy, do you really think that's wise?" Giles said. "He threw in his lot with Warren in the first place."
"He didn't know what he was getting into. He didn't know how bad it could be -- he didn't know how bad HE could be. I think he should get an opportunity to come back from that," Buffy said gravely. "We all need a second chance, Giles, don't we?"
They heard a shaky voice from the doorway. "Can I help?" Willow said.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Study me then, you who shall lovers be
At the next world, that is, at the next spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new alchemy.
For his art did express
A quintessence even from nothingness,
From dull privations, and lean emptiness:
He ruined me, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not."
John Donne
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Like I could create these guys.
All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: A Spike-centric alternative ending (which you can bet will never happen) for Ep. 22 of this season, incorporating many (though not all) recent spoilers. The end of BtVS, and the beginning of The Spike Show.
SITUATIONAL SPOILERS - NOT MUCH
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 16. Things Which Are Not
Their faces grew sober in the warm light of the dining room as the implications of Giles' analysis sank in. For a while they'd tried to forget that the fight was truly never over. In silence, Buffy brought coffee and cups, and Dawn helped clear away the dishes. Giles sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, holding his glasses in one hand. He was the only one who hadn't managed to snatch any rest, and he knew his stamina was giving out. He looked around the table morosely. These exhausted children were all that stood between humanity and chaos -- again. Their drawn faces belied their youth; indeed, they looked almost as old as he felt. Even Spike. The weight of many battles was beginning to tell on them all.
Buffy looked almost fragile, with enormous eyes; Dawn's face was solemn and shadowed. Anya had the experience of a thousand-year-old demon, but the form of an ordinary, and at this point exceedingly weary, young woman. Xander was how old? Twenty-one? And he was beginning to look and behave like a bitter middle-aged man, a far cry from the coltish but brave and reliable ally he once had been. And these were the good guys, Giles thought desolately. The Powers that Be, the forces of righteousness, whom he served, had laid this burden on these once-innocent children, with so little might to tilt the balance in their favor.
Until now, perhaps. He considered Spike, and suddenly thought he was beginning to understand what he'd seen unfolding these past few years a little better. He wondered if any of them truly realized what a weapon they now had at hand. An animated weapon, with a will of its own, possessing unimaginable stores of knowledge; incredibly powerful, vastly experienced, utterly vicious -- and utterly loyal. And at once Giles saw the wisdom of merely adding souls without subtracting anything from Spike as he was, leaving him his demon, and even augmenting it -- because the demons' rage for battle would doubtless prove invaluable. He also saw the cold logic behind the plan; the conscious weapon could never be subverted away from his purpose. His fidelity was ensured by his immutable love for the Slayer. The strategy was heartless, but might prove frighteningly effective. Giles found himself perking up somewhat. Perhaps the odds weren't so long.
They all sat lost in thought for a while. "So something's going down soon, yes?" Xander said finally.
"I fear so." Giles replied. "It's a question of figuring out when, exactly."
"This sort of thing, only two ways it can go -- dark of the moon, or new moon. Either way, it's soon," Spike added.
"Exactly so. It's at the quarter now, and the moon is waning, so we have about three days, if I calculate correctly."
"So how can we prepare?" Buffy said.
Giles sat back in his chair. "As I see it, our best hope -- our only hope, I'm afraid -- is to prevent the Hellmouth from opening at all. In other words, be there at the right time and counteract the, ah, forces on the other side trying to break through."
"Well, we can bang it shut again if it just cracks a bit, but if that happens we'll also have to keep things from coming out," Spike said.
"'Things'?" said Xander.
"Hell beasts. Armies of darkness. You know, the usual drill. Save humanity, blood, death and destruction, yadda, yadda."
"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" said Xander, sudden hostility flaring. He couldn't help it. Spike was sitting at the family dining table just like one of the Scoobies, cozily established between Buffy and Dawn, for all the world like he was the man of the house. Both girls sat turned a little bit towards him, like they cared more about what he had to say than anyone else. Maybe they thought Xander didn't notice, but he did. The three of them traded smiles and familiar glances; it grated on Xander's nerves more and more. He wasn't a man at all, damn it. He might think he was some kind of super-Spike now, but he looked just like the old chip-addled, sex-obsessed blood-drinker. Xander wanted him gone.
"That's right, I would," Spike replied coolly to his rhetorical question, refusing to be provoked. "We're going to need all the forces we can muster. 'Cause when they do come out, they come out hungry, and they've usually got great big pointy teeth."
At that Buffy looked at him sharply, but simply asked, "Can I fight them?"
He turned to her. "Sure, we can fight them, love, but it would be a whole lot better to keep them from emerging at all."
"And here's our dilemma," Giles said. "Because we'll need magic, we'll need magic users. And right now, we don't have enough. We'll need to be positioned to cover the entire area, to strengthen the barrier where it's weakest, and Spike and I can only cover so much ground, so to speak."
"So, what, you need five? Like a pentagram? Can I do it?" Xander said instantly.
"Actually, I believe we could do it with four, if we have experienced magic users who can successfully channel a great deal of power. But that lets you out, Xander; I know you're familiar with rituals and so on, but this is a bit different. The energy would literally be flowing through your body, and it needs to be guided. Any mistakes would incinerate not only you, but several city blocks."
"Well, when you put it that way, I'd rather not be incinerated. I hate the smell of burning hair."
"No," Anya chimed in, "please, no incinerating. I prefer you whole."
"Thanks, hon."
"Anyway, we need you to back up Buffy, preferably with weapons, since Spike will be busy with, ah, sorcery," Giles continued. "Even if hell-creatures don't emerge, our everyday, garden-variety Sunnydale demons will probably be attracted to the scene by the dark energies that have been unloosed, which will complicate our task somewhat."
Anya raised her hand tentatively, and said simply, "I can do it. The power thing."
"No, Ahn! It's too dangerous!"
"I want to. It's something I know how to do."
"I thought you were giving all that up -- "
"We're talking about saving the world, Xander. Again. It's what we do. And I have to do what I can, just like everyone else." She said to Spike, "I have the experience. But I don't have any power anymore."
"I'll give it to you. Don't worry. You can do it."
For some reason, Anya grasped the depth of Spike's newly-given abilities more readily than any of them, and accepted them completely. She said, with complete confidence in her beautiful eyes, "Just tell me what to do."
This was too much for Xander. "Look, I don't want you doing this with him, I don't trust him, I don't want him involved in this. I don't even want him around. Nothing's changed, as far as I'm concerned," he said hotly.
Spike looked at him, still and flat-eyed as a coiled snake. Buffy gripped his wrist under the table. "Not exactly up to you, is it?" he said icily. "Not your call, that I can see."
"No, it bloody well isn't," Giles said with authority. "And if I may say so, Xander, this is hardly the time for tantrums. We've all been through an emotional strain, but this is more important than our individual feelings, whatever they might be. Quite frankly, Spike is our only chance. We can settle our personal differences later -- if we survive to do so. Is that clear?"
Spike, elaborately casual, lit a cigarette and said nothing. Dawn wordlessly rose and fetched him an ashtray in a delicate gesture of solidarity, and he flashed her a smile. He could sense Buffy's silent approval, too, at his refusal to be drawn. It felt good -- better than good -- to have his girls around him like this, backing him up, taking his side. It was something he hadn't experienced for a long, long time.
Xander sat tensely for a moment then raised both hands in front of him, palms out. "Okay, whatever," he said ungraciously.
Giles continued. "We still need one more adept, and, frankly, with Willow out of commission, I don't know where we'll find one."
"So Willow's definitely out of commission?" Xander asked.
"Yes!" "Yes!" "Yes!" Giles, Spike, and Buffy said together.
"Okay, okay, I was just asking."
"I have a suggestion. We know one more magic user who isn't evil," Buffy said. "Jonathan."
There was an outcry at this from Xander, Dawn, and Anya; Giles looked skeptical. "Really, Buffy, I don't see how we can trust someone who's already betrayed you once -- "
"He helped us in the end," Buffy insisted. "He took a risk for us." She met Spike's eyes for an extended moment. "And he deserves a chance -- a chance to redeem himself." Spike leaned towards her and took both her hands in his, and the protestations of the others faded away as they exchanged a long, tender look. She loved to see his face like that, emotions unfettered, trusting in her. "The chance we gave each other," Buffy whispered to him. He kissed her palms, one after the other.
At length they noticed that all discussion had died out, and the others around the table were staring at them with varying expressions, from Dawn's eager interest to Xander's revulsion. Giles' face was enigmatic. Spike recovered himself and nodded once. "Okay, I'm in," he said. "Jonathan it is."
"Buffy, do you really think that's wise?" Giles said. "He threw in his lot with Warren in the first place."
"He didn't know what he was getting into. He didn't know how bad it could be -- he didn't know how bad HE could be. I think he should get an opportunity to come back from that," Buffy said gravely. "We all need a second chance, Giles, don't we?"
They heard a shaky voice from the doorway. "Can I help?" Willow said.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Study me then, you who shall lovers be
At the next world, that is, at the next spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new alchemy.
For his art did express
A quintessence even from nothingness,
From dull privations, and lean emptiness:
He ruined me, and I am re-begot
Of absence, darkness, death: things which are not."
John Donne