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.
NO SPOILERS - ALL INVENTION
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 27. A Most Malignant Keep
"Rupert!" Giles heard Spike's urgent voice in his head. He sat up groggily. "Wha -?" he said. It was pitch black in the living room; he had no idea what time it was.
"Get up to Buffy's bedroom, now," the voice said.
"What on earth -?"
"Just do it!"
Apparently some new catastrophe loomed. Resigned, he felt for his glasses, shuffled his feet into slippers, and carefully made his way up the stairs. He hesitated for a moment at the door to Buffy's room; then knocked and opened it.
The successful raiding party had returned to the Summers house in pretty high spirits. The assault had gone well; Rack and Amy were neutralized for good, the hench-demons were disposed of, everyone had done their share, and no one was hurt. An enthusiastic Dawn and an apprehensive Jonathan met them at the door. Dawn wanted to hear all about it. "So where did that French guy go? He was pretty cool," Dawn said.
Jerking his head, Spike said, "Back upstairs,"
"Did he slice up all the demons?"
"Everybody sliced, and also diced," Buffy said happily. "Actually, it WAS pretty cool."
"Um, sorry about the tentacles," Willow said. "I should have checked them out better."
"No big, Will; we came, we saw, we hacked. And stabbed," Xander reassured her, his arm around Anya. "Or, more correctly, we went, we saw, we hacked."
"Well, yes; rather more hacking was involved than we expected," Giles felt quite pleased with himself, too; "but we won out eventually."
"Can I go home now?" Jonathan said. He was definitely ready for a nice soothing bout with a classic computer game - maybe Doom - and an early night. And being in the same room with Spike still scared him, even if he was always holding hands with Buffy now. Jonathan kept shooting nervous little glances his way, which Spike encouraged by glowering when Buffy wasn't looking.
"We'll get together again tomorrow to go over our plan in detail," Giles said. "If you need any magic supplies, bring them with you. We should all know our parts backwards and forwards on Tuesday night."
"Well, I do have a magic bone," Jonathan said. "It helps me concentrate. I guess I'll bring that."
"Hey, man, if you need a lift I'll drop you," Clem offered.
Jonathan gulped. "Okay, sure, thanks," he said.
Standing in the dark hallway, Giles opened the door to Buffy's room. The bedside lamp was switched on. Spike, clad only in jeans, held Buffy in his arms; she clung to him, wrapped in a blanket and wearing one of his black t-shirts, her face pale and shocked.
"She's had a nasty dream, Rupes," Spike said tightly.
Startled by the sight of his scarred torso, Giles said with dismay, "My God, man, what happened to you?"
"Never mind that now," Spike said impatiently. "She had one of her Slayer dreams - tell Giles about it, love," he coaxed her.
"It was the Hellmouth," she said starkly. "It was really dark, and it opened - the earth just cracked open. I could see flames inside, and lava, like a volcano on the Discovery Channel. And there were things - things coming out. They were all blackened, like they'd been burned all over. Barbecued." A shudder went over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "Steaming and smoking."
"Go on with the next bit, love," Spike said, stroking her hair. "Tell Giles."
"Inside - Giles, I could see inside, where the burned things were coming from -" she gasped, and looked at him, her eyes huge. "I saw Willow, Giles! Inside the Hellmouth!"
"Dear me!" Giles said. Then in what he hoped was a reassuring tone he continued, "Well, steady on; you know your prophetic dreams don't necessarily tell us literally what will happen."
"Not a good portent however you slice it, though," Spike said grimly.
"Was she doing anything? Did you see what happened then?"
"She was just floating in the middle of the flames - she wasn't struggling or anything, but she didn't look normal, either. She was - sort of dazed, like when she had the accident. And we were all there, fighting the burned things, but I didn't see what happened to anyone else," she said.
There was a troubled silence. Buffy pressed her face against Spike's shoulder, and almost unconsciously he rocked her a little, his frost-white head tenderly bent over hers, his expression set. Giles found it quite touching, if one ignored the fantastic elements - or even if one didn't. Perhaps he was getting used to it. Or perhaps he was growing sentimental in his old age.
"Any ideas, Rupes?" Spike said.
"Well; it's certainly not what one would wish for." Giles thought for a minute. "Are you certain Willow has no access to magic?"
"Positive. I did her just like I did Rack. She can't do her own magic, and magic won't work for her. But..."
"But?"
Reluctantly, Spike said, "They don't know that, below, Rupert; they haven't had any contact with her since we closed the channel Warren opened. And her magic, her unique, personal magic was very powerful - and attractive."
"So you think -?"
"Could be something's coming for her, something that knows who she is. Looking for a taste of that special redhead flavor." He looked stern. "She invited this, really, mucking about like she did. Sneaking around, seeing what she could get away with, not playing by the rules. Demons and devils don't care for that, you know. They'll want payback. And they're greedy."
Giles sighed. He felt weighted down with fatigue, sitting there in rumpled pajamas with his hair swirled into a bird's nest from sleep. And his sword arm ached. "I blame myself, really," he said pensively. "I should have seen what she was getting into."
"No argument here, mate," Spike's voice was sharp. "I blame you, too. She was just a starry-eyed kid when she got into it. YOU knew what magic is."
"It wasn't really my job - " Giles began. Then he slumped. "You're right, of course."
Buffy spoke up for both her friends. "When - when she first started, she was just trying to help me."
"Re-souling the Poof; I know, love, but she got a taste for the power pretty quick."
"Quit calling him that! And don't make it sound like getting your shoes fixed, or something!" Buffy said, annoyed.
With his patented irritating smirk, Spike pointed out, "Hey, I've known him a lot longer than you have, and -"
"Yes, well, returning to the point," Giles interrupted what looked like a promising altercation, "Obviously, we've got to keep a careful watch on Willow. And I don't think we need let her know what we fear, not yet anyway."
He rose. "Buffy, you look tired," he said. "You two should - that is, why don't you two, ah -" he stammered a bit under Spike's ironic eye. "Well, anyway, I'll - I'll be going back to bed. We can go over this some more tomorrow."
Stealthily Willow moved down the dark hallway. Holding her breath, she slipped behind the open bathroom door as Giles passed. His words echoed in her mind. "... Keep a careful watch on Willow... don't let her know what we fear..."
So that's what they thought of her.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"DOWN in the mud I lay,
Tired out by my long day
Of five damned days and nights,
Five sleepless days and nights,...
Dream-snatched, and set me where
The dungeon of Despair
Looms over Desolate Sea,
Frowning and threatening me
With aspect high and steep-
A most malignant keep.
My foes that lay within
Shouted and made a din,
Hooted and grinned and cried:
'Today we've killed your pride;
Today your ardour ends.
We've murdered all your friends;
We've undermined by stealth
Your happiness and your health.
We've taken away your hope;
Now you may droop and mope
To misery and to Death.'"
Robert Graves
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: Thanks for all the feedback, guys! I promise there's an end in sight; after all, it's nearly Tuesday.
Also, the Emerson "astonishment of life" quote is from "Montaigne, or, The Skeptic." You can find the full text online with a Google search (and well worth it).
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.
NO SPOILERS - ALL INVENTION
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 27. A Most Malignant Keep
"Rupert!" Giles heard Spike's urgent voice in his head. He sat up groggily. "Wha -?" he said. It was pitch black in the living room; he had no idea what time it was.
"Get up to Buffy's bedroom, now," the voice said.
"What on earth -?"
"Just do it!"
Apparently some new catastrophe loomed. Resigned, he felt for his glasses, shuffled his feet into slippers, and carefully made his way up the stairs. He hesitated for a moment at the door to Buffy's room; then knocked and opened it.
The successful raiding party had returned to the Summers house in pretty high spirits. The assault had gone well; Rack and Amy were neutralized for good, the hench-demons were disposed of, everyone had done their share, and no one was hurt. An enthusiastic Dawn and an apprehensive Jonathan met them at the door. Dawn wanted to hear all about it. "So where did that French guy go? He was pretty cool," Dawn said.
Jerking his head, Spike said, "Back upstairs,"
"Did he slice up all the demons?"
"Everybody sliced, and also diced," Buffy said happily. "Actually, it WAS pretty cool."
"Um, sorry about the tentacles," Willow said. "I should have checked them out better."
"No big, Will; we came, we saw, we hacked. And stabbed," Xander reassured her, his arm around Anya. "Or, more correctly, we went, we saw, we hacked."
"Well, yes; rather more hacking was involved than we expected," Giles felt quite pleased with himself, too; "but we won out eventually."
"Can I go home now?" Jonathan said. He was definitely ready for a nice soothing bout with a classic computer game - maybe Doom - and an early night. And being in the same room with Spike still scared him, even if he was always holding hands with Buffy now. Jonathan kept shooting nervous little glances his way, which Spike encouraged by glowering when Buffy wasn't looking.
"We'll get together again tomorrow to go over our plan in detail," Giles said. "If you need any magic supplies, bring them with you. We should all know our parts backwards and forwards on Tuesday night."
"Well, I do have a magic bone," Jonathan said. "It helps me concentrate. I guess I'll bring that."
"Hey, man, if you need a lift I'll drop you," Clem offered.
Jonathan gulped. "Okay, sure, thanks," he said.
Standing in the dark hallway, Giles opened the door to Buffy's room. The bedside lamp was switched on. Spike, clad only in jeans, held Buffy in his arms; she clung to him, wrapped in a blanket and wearing one of his black t-shirts, her face pale and shocked.
"She's had a nasty dream, Rupes," Spike said tightly.
Startled by the sight of his scarred torso, Giles said with dismay, "My God, man, what happened to you?"
"Never mind that now," Spike said impatiently. "She had one of her Slayer dreams - tell Giles about it, love," he coaxed her.
"It was the Hellmouth," she said starkly. "It was really dark, and it opened - the earth just cracked open. I could see flames inside, and lava, like a volcano on the Discovery Channel. And there were things - things coming out. They were all blackened, like they'd been burned all over. Barbecued." A shudder went over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. "Steaming and smoking."
"Go on with the next bit, love," Spike said, stroking her hair. "Tell Giles."
"Inside - Giles, I could see inside, where the burned things were coming from -" she gasped, and looked at him, her eyes huge. "I saw Willow, Giles! Inside the Hellmouth!"
"Dear me!" Giles said. Then in what he hoped was a reassuring tone he continued, "Well, steady on; you know your prophetic dreams don't necessarily tell us literally what will happen."
"Not a good portent however you slice it, though," Spike said grimly.
"Was she doing anything? Did you see what happened then?"
"She was just floating in the middle of the flames - she wasn't struggling or anything, but she didn't look normal, either. She was - sort of dazed, like when she had the accident. And we were all there, fighting the burned things, but I didn't see what happened to anyone else," she said.
There was a troubled silence. Buffy pressed her face against Spike's shoulder, and almost unconsciously he rocked her a little, his frost-white head tenderly bent over hers, his expression set. Giles found it quite touching, if one ignored the fantastic elements - or even if one didn't. Perhaps he was getting used to it. Or perhaps he was growing sentimental in his old age.
"Any ideas, Rupes?" Spike said.
"Well; it's certainly not what one would wish for." Giles thought for a minute. "Are you certain Willow has no access to magic?"
"Positive. I did her just like I did Rack. She can't do her own magic, and magic won't work for her. But..."
"But?"
Reluctantly, Spike said, "They don't know that, below, Rupert; they haven't had any contact with her since we closed the channel Warren opened. And her magic, her unique, personal magic was very powerful - and attractive."
"So you think -?"
"Could be something's coming for her, something that knows who she is. Looking for a taste of that special redhead flavor." He looked stern. "She invited this, really, mucking about like she did. Sneaking around, seeing what she could get away with, not playing by the rules. Demons and devils don't care for that, you know. They'll want payback. And they're greedy."
Giles sighed. He felt weighted down with fatigue, sitting there in rumpled pajamas with his hair swirled into a bird's nest from sleep. And his sword arm ached. "I blame myself, really," he said pensively. "I should have seen what she was getting into."
"No argument here, mate," Spike's voice was sharp. "I blame you, too. She was just a starry-eyed kid when she got into it. YOU knew what magic is."
"It wasn't really my job - " Giles began. Then he slumped. "You're right, of course."
Buffy spoke up for both her friends. "When - when she first started, she was just trying to help me."
"Re-souling the Poof; I know, love, but she got a taste for the power pretty quick."
"Quit calling him that! And don't make it sound like getting your shoes fixed, or something!" Buffy said, annoyed.
With his patented irritating smirk, Spike pointed out, "Hey, I've known him a lot longer than you have, and -"
"Yes, well, returning to the point," Giles interrupted what looked like a promising altercation, "Obviously, we've got to keep a careful watch on Willow. And I don't think we need let her know what we fear, not yet anyway."
He rose. "Buffy, you look tired," he said. "You two should - that is, why don't you two, ah -" he stammered a bit under Spike's ironic eye. "Well, anyway, I'll - I'll be going back to bed. We can go over this some more tomorrow."
Stealthily Willow moved down the dark hallway. Holding her breath, she slipped behind the open bathroom door as Giles passed. His words echoed in her mind. "... Keep a careful watch on Willow... don't let her know what we fear..."
So that's what they thought of her.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"DOWN in the mud I lay,
Tired out by my long day
Of five damned days and nights,
Five sleepless days and nights,...
Dream-snatched, and set me where
The dungeon of Despair
Looms over Desolate Sea,
Frowning and threatening me
With aspect high and steep-
A most malignant keep.
My foes that lay within
Shouted and made a din,
Hooted and grinned and cried:
'Today we've killed your pride;
Today your ardour ends.
We've murdered all your friends;
We've undermined by stealth
Your happiness and your health.
We've taken away your hope;
Now you may droop and mope
To misery and to Death.'"
Robert Graves
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: Thanks for all the feedback, guys! I promise there's an end in sight; after all, it's nearly Tuesday.
Also, the Emerson "astonishment of life" quote is from "Montaigne, or, The Skeptic." You can find the full text online with a Google search (and well worth it).