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 28. What's More Than Death
Dawn was quiet on her way downstairs, not wanting to wake Buffy this early in the morning. Or Spike. She wanted Spike to stay so much; it was awful when he was gone. She never knew what a big part of her life he was until he wasn't there anymore; she'd bet Buffy felt the same way. Well, it sure looked like it, didn't it?
Spike was her friend, too, even without Buffy. One time Janice saw Dawn with Spike at the Expresso Pump and she was so jealous.
"WHO is that deadly guy?" she'd squealed, "He is SO cool." Nobody ever said that about Xander.
"Just a friend," Dawn said offhandedly. But it was exhilarating, especially when she saw Spike look right past Janice like she wasn't there. Because Janice liked to think she was pretty hot.
Dawn opened the refrigerator and took out some orange juice, trying to still the butterflies in her stomach. She really, really wanted Spike to stay. If they all survived tomorrow night. If they all came home.
Xander was worried. Anya knew this because he looked at her with dark, anxious eyes and showered her with inane jokes. But there was no point in worrying. Either they would succeed, and save the world again, with the concomitant celebratory feelings, or they would fail, and all die or be enslaved by hell-beasts. After a restless night, she tried to explain it to him over breakfast.
"I'll just be a conduit," she told him. "I know how to handle magical energies; we'll just create a sort of white-magic dome over the Hellmouth, and hold it until the arcane hour has passed."
"Are you sure you con-du-it? Get it? Ha, ha," he said desperately, his eyes deep and shadowed. "I mean, how will you know when the hour has, like, passed? Will an owl hoot or something?"
"Spike will know," she said confidently. Which did not reassure Xander.
Anya had faith in Spike. He knew what he was doing. It amazed her that the others - the humans - couldn't really see the scope of his powers, or the strikingly exact match with the Slayer's needs. It was so obviously NOT a coincidence.
Xander just couldn't do it anymore. Lately he fell asleep every night and woke up every morning with dread gnawing at his insides. He'd just begun to get a tenuous grip on his life again, and now it was all spinning out of control. They were the Scoobies, evil-fighters extrordinaire. The Slayerettes. They'd cut their teeth on world saving. Yet, incomprehensibly, they'd fallen apart, and had to rely on a reformed vampire (or whatever the heck Spike was now) to do their job. He couldn't trust himself; he couldn't trust Willow. Could he even trust Buffy, really? Especially about a guy; love tended to blind the Slayer.
He was terribly afraid for Anya - and for himself, if something should happen to her. "Have a little faith in the woman, Newt-boy," Spike had said. "Anya knows what she's doing." Which were so not the words Xander wanted to hear from him. And he wasn't crazy about the constant newt references, either.
Approaching Buffy's front door, Jonathan felt slightly nauseous. He had a bag with him containing assorted herbs, some enchanted sand, and his magic bone; he hoped that would be enough. His hand shook as he rang the bell, but he didn't hesitate.
The door opened. "Hey!" It was Dawn, the Slayer's kid sister. She let him in with a smile, like he were one of the gang; that was sort of reassuring. On the other hand, the first thing that met his eye as he entered the living room was Spike, sunk bonelessly in his usual armchair and sipping what was probably blood from a mug. True, the mug had a 'Cowboy Bebop' logo on it, but that didn't help quell Jonathan's jitters much.
"Um, hi," Jonathan said nervously. "I'm back. For whatever."
Spike looked at him, without menace this time, and with even a hint of respect in his eyes. "So, you're all ready, then?" he asked.
Steadfastly, Jonathan replied, "Ready as I'll ever be."
"Good man," Spike said.
Why couldn't they save the world without making such a big deal out of it? Willow thought. She'd come downstairs to find everyone else already up; apparently, nobody thought of calling her. Or maybe they were just being considerate; nearly causing an apocalypse WAS pretty tiring work. She moved among them wearing her helpful, eager-to-please face, waiting to be assigned her particular task.
Spike sat in his armchair with Buffy perched beside him, her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist. They were nearly always touching each other now; Willow honestly tried not to be creeped out - really - but it gave her a strange prickly feeling. Dawn sat on the floor at their feet, making her allegiance plain.
"So the four of us will reinforce the seal over the Hellmouth," Spike said, "until the time's up, and Buffy and her faithful pup -"
"Spike!" Buffy protested half-heartedly, though Xander didn't even seem to hear, being wrapped up in Anya. Good thing that relationship worked out.
"- will fend off any nasties that show. And Clem will scout 'round and let us know if anything's up."
"Will," Buffy said earnestly, "I need you to stay here with Dawn."
"Sure, Buffy," she answered, "whatever I can do."
Well, that should be fun; a night of tension with a teenager who couldn't stand her. Anything to help.
They were as prepared as they could be, Giles thought, surveying the room. As world-savers go, they were an uneven lot. Spike explained the plan, his face entirely serious. Somehow he'd taken charge, and Giles, surprising himself, was ready to have it so.
"So the most important thing is concentration," Spike told his assembled company of magic users. "Giles and I will work the spell; just keep your minds open and channel the strands of magic as they move through you. Ease the way, don't block it. Don't be distracted; nothing will hurt you if we keep it strong. And remember, you've got the Slayer watching your back."
"We should try it out briefly," Giles suggested, "using minimal power, so everyone will know what to expect."
"Right, good one, Rupert," Spike said.
They positioned themselves in the living room. "Ready?" Spike said. At Giles nod, he touched his outstretched hand. Then Giles touched Anya, who touched Jonathan, who swallowed and touched Spike's other hand. Thin strands of white light shot round and round, through their bodies, then upwards, and wove themselves together like the fibers of a basket ending as a small, floating dome-shape, bumping slightly against the ceiling.
Buffy, Dawn, Willow and Xander stood back, glittering filaments reflected in their wide eyes.
"Wow!" Dawn breathed.
"It's beautiful," Willow murmured wistfully, "It's so beautiful."
"May I say that was fabulous?" Buffy said, wreathing her arms around Spike and resting her head on his shoulder as they stood on the back porch. It was another beautiful spring twilight. Since her job tomorrow would be pretty much the usual slayage, she'd been free to indulge herself in watching Spike running the show, settling arcane details with Giles, organizing his forces, and he had amazed her.
"You dazzled me, you know that?" she told him. It delighted her that he was embarrassed by her praise, even kicking his shoes uneasily like a little boy.
"I didn't do that much, love," he said, "And don't worry - tomorrow I'll look out for Red. And even Newt-boy."
That made her giggle. "You couldn't really do that, could you? You know - transmogri-thingy?"
"I could, just as a lesson," he said thoughtfully. "I'd turn him right back, though. Not like we need a newt, is it?"
Devastation, doom, peril - whatever came tomorrow, Buffy couldn't keep a smile from her lips. She just couldn't help it. She'd never known what 'a song in the heart' meant before, but now she understood; now there was always a wordless melody humming away in her breast. And the song was all about Spike.
Spike sat on the back porch smoking in the darkness, going over every detail of tomorrow's plan in his mind. Everyone else had gone to bed. This had to go off without any hitches; danger was a Slayer's life, but his purpose was to minimize the danger, and he dedicated himself to that purpose. Something was bound to get bollixed up, and now he had to make sure it was something small.
Flickering around his consciousness always as he pondered was a spectral vision of Buffy, like a golden flame, powerful, lethal, and passionate. He could feel her, taste her, smell her everywhere.
"Hello, love," he said.
"You gonna stay here all night?" Buffy said, sitting down behind him and leaning against his back, her chin on his shoulder.
"Just thinkin' things through."
"Worried?"
"No, not really."
"Then come inside," she said, kissing the back of his neck. "You should relax."
He closed his eyes, and sighed blissfully. "You know, love, when you do that, relaxing isn't my first notion."
But in the back of his mind he was still thinking - the Watchers, the Shamans, the Trials meant nothing. Tomorrow was the real test. And the stakes were life and death.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"BY Merlin's Rock, where Dagonet the fool
Was given through many a dying afternoon
To sit and meditate on human ways
And ways divine, Gawaine and Bedivere
Stood silent, gazing down on Camelot.
The two had risen and were going home:
"It hits me sore, Gawaine," said Bedivere,
"To think on all the tumult and affliction
Down there, and all the noise and preparation
That hums of coming death, and, if my fears
Be born of reason, of what's more than death."
Edwin Arlington Robinson
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 28. What's More Than Death
Dawn was quiet on her way downstairs, not wanting to wake Buffy this early in the morning. Or Spike. She wanted Spike to stay so much; it was awful when he was gone. She never knew what a big part of her life he was until he wasn't there anymore; she'd bet Buffy felt the same way. Well, it sure looked like it, didn't it?
Spike was her friend, too, even without Buffy. One time Janice saw Dawn with Spike at the Expresso Pump and she was so jealous.
"WHO is that deadly guy?" she'd squealed, "He is SO cool." Nobody ever said that about Xander.
"Just a friend," Dawn said offhandedly. But it was exhilarating, especially when she saw Spike look right past Janice like she wasn't there. Because Janice liked to think she was pretty hot.
Dawn opened the refrigerator and took out some orange juice, trying to still the butterflies in her stomach. She really, really wanted Spike to stay. If they all survived tomorrow night. If they all came home.
Xander was worried. Anya knew this because he looked at her with dark, anxious eyes and showered her with inane jokes. But there was no point in worrying. Either they would succeed, and save the world again, with the concomitant celebratory feelings, or they would fail, and all die or be enslaved by hell-beasts. After a restless night, she tried to explain it to him over breakfast.
"I'll just be a conduit," she told him. "I know how to handle magical energies; we'll just create a sort of white-magic dome over the Hellmouth, and hold it until the arcane hour has passed."
"Are you sure you con-du-it? Get it? Ha, ha," he said desperately, his eyes deep and shadowed. "I mean, how will you know when the hour has, like, passed? Will an owl hoot or something?"
"Spike will know," she said confidently. Which did not reassure Xander.
Anya had faith in Spike. He knew what he was doing. It amazed her that the others - the humans - couldn't really see the scope of his powers, or the strikingly exact match with the Slayer's needs. It was so obviously NOT a coincidence.
Xander just couldn't do it anymore. Lately he fell asleep every night and woke up every morning with dread gnawing at his insides. He'd just begun to get a tenuous grip on his life again, and now it was all spinning out of control. They were the Scoobies, evil-fighters extrordinaire. The Slayerettes. They'd cut their teeth on world saving. Yet, incomprehensibly, they'd fallen apart, and had to rely on a reformed vampire (or whatever the heck Spike was now) to do their job. He couldn't trust himself; he couldn't trust Willow. Could he even trust Buffy, really? Especially about a guy; love tended to blind the Slayer.
He was terribly afraid for Anya - and for himself, if something should happen to her. "Have a little faith in the woman, Newt-boy," Spike had said. "Anya knows what she's doing." Which were so not the words Xander wanted to hear from him. And he wasn't crazy about the constant newt references, either.
Approaching Buffy's front door, Jonathan felt slightly nauseous. He had a bag with him containing assorted herbs, some enchanted sand, and his magic bone; he hoped that would be enough. His hand shook as he rang the bell, but he didn't hesitate.
The door opened. "Hey!" It was Dawn, the Slayer's kid sister. She let him in with a smile, like he were one of the gang; that was sort of reassuring. On the other hand, the first thing that met his eye as he entered the living room was Spike, sunk bonelessly in his usual armchair and sipping what was probably blood from a mug. True, the mug had a 'Cowboy Bebop' logo on it, but that didn't help quell Jonathan's jitters much.
"Um, hi," Jonathan said nervously. "I'm back. For whatever."
Spike looked at him, without menace this time, and with even a hint of respect in his eyes. "So, you're all ready, then?" he asked.
Steadfastly, Jonathan replied, "Ready as I'll ever be."
"Good man," Spike said.
Why couldn't they save the world without making such a big deal out of it? Willow thought. She'd come downstairs to find everyone else already up; apparently, nobody thought of calling her. Or maybe they were just being considerate; nearly causing an apocalypse WAS pretty tiring work. She moved among them wearing her helpful, eager-to-please face, waiting to be assigned her particular task.
Spike sat in his armchair with Buffy perched beside him, her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist. They were nearly always touching each other now; Willow honestly tried not to be creeped out - really - but it gave her a strange prickly feeling. Dawn sat on the floor at their feet, making her allegiance plain.
"So the four of us will reinforce the seal over the Hellmouth," Spike said, "until the time's up, and Buffy and her faithful pup -"
"Spike!" Buffy protested half-heartedly, though Xander didn't even seem to hear, being wrapped up in Anya. Good thing that relationship worked out.
"- will fend off any nasties that show. And Clem will scout 'round and let us know if anything's up."
"Will," Buffy said earnestly, "I need you to stay here with Dawn."
"Sure, Buffy," she answered, "whatever I can do."
Well, that should be fun; a night of tension with a teenager who couldn't stand her. Anything to help.
They were as prepared as they could be, Giles thought, surveying the room. As world-savers go, they were an uneven lot. Spike explained the plan, his face entirely serious. Somehow he'd taken charge, and Giles, surprising himself, was ready to have it so.
"So the most important thing is concentration," Spike told his assembled company of magic users. "Giles and I will work the spell; just keep your minds open and channel the strands of magic as they move through you. Ease the way, don't block it. Don't be distracted; nothing will hurt you if we keep it strong. And remember, you've got the Slayer watching your back."
"We should try it out briefly," Giles suggested, "using minimal power, so everyone will know what to expect."
"Right, good one, Rupert," Spike said.
They positioned themselves in the living room. "Ready?" Spike said. At Giles nod, he touched his outstretched hand. Then Giles touched Anya, who touched Jonathan, who swallowed and touched Spike's other hand. Thin strands of white light shot round and round, through their bodies, then upwards, and wove themselves together like the fibers of a basket ending as a small, floating dome-shape, bumping slightly against the ceiling.
Buffy, Dawn, Willow and Xander stood back, glittering filaments reflected in their wide eyes.
"Wow!" Dawn breathed.
"It's beautiful," Willow murmured wistfully, "It's so beautiful."
"May I say that was fabulous?" Buffy said, wreathing her arms around Spike and resting her head on his shoulder as they stood on the back porch. It was another beautiful spring twilight. Since her job tomorrow would be pretty much the usual slayage, she'd been free to indulge herself in watching Spike running the show, settling arcane details with Giles, organizing his forces, and he had amazed her.
"You dazzled me, you know that?" she told him. It delighted her that he was embarrassed by her praise, even kicking his shoes uneasily like a little boy.
"I didn't do that much, love," he said, "And don't worry - tomorrow I'll look out for Red. And even Newt-boy."
That made her giggle. "You couldn't really do that, could you? You know - transmogri-thingy?"
"I could, just as a lesson," he said thoughtfully. "I'd turn him right back, though. Not like we need a newt, is it?"
Devastation, doom, peril - whatever came tomorrow, Buffy couldn't keep a smile from her lips. She just couldn't help it. She'd never known what 'a song in the heart' meant before, but now she understood; now there was always a wordless melody humming away in her breast. And the song was all about Spike.
Spike sat on the back porch smoking in the darkness, going over every detail of tomorrow's plan in his mind. Everyone else had gone to bed. This had to go off without any hitches; danger was a Slayer's life, but his purpose was to minimize the danger, and he dedicated himself to that purpose. Something was bound to get bollixed up, and now he had to make sure it was something small.
Flickering around his consciousness always as he pondered was a spectral vision of Buffy, like a golden flame, powerful, lethal, and passionate. He could feel her, taste her, smell her everywhere.
"Hello, love," he said.
"You gonna stay here all night?" Buffy said, sitting down behind him and leaning against his back, her chin on his shoulder.
"Just thinkin' things through."
"Worried?"
"No, not really."
"Then come inside," she said, kissing the back of his neck. "You should relax."
He closed his eyes, and sighed blissfully. "You know, love, when you do that, relaxing isn't my first notion."
But in the back of his mind he was still thinking - the Watchers, the Shamans, the Trials meant nothing. Tomorrow was the real test. And the stakes were life and death.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"BY Merlin's Rock, where Dagonet the fool
Was given through many a dying afternoon
To sit and meditate on human ways
And ways divine, Gawaine and Bedivere
Stood silent, gazing down on Camelot.
The two had risen and were going home:
"It hits me sore, Gawaine," said Bedivere,
"To think on all the tumult and affliction
Down there, and all the noise and preparation
That hums of coming death, and, if my fears
Be born of reason, of what's more than death."
Edwin Arlington Robinson