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
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 30. Wish It Done
Giles knew Buffy and Spike had slipped upstairs together. If anyone asked, he intended to say they probably had a lot to talk about, though he couldn't imagine anyone being fool enough to believe it. Even Xander.
Buffy and Spike were actually the only ones enjoying this day. Giles had to admit he was edgy. A Watcher knows no fear, or at least not much; it was either prevail or die - along with the rest of the world. No matter how many times this particular situation arose, he thought sardonically, somehow it never grew monotonous. He prowled a bit through the living room, dining room, and kitchen; snatched an occasional few minutes of banal news programs on television, and made himself innumerable cups of tea, which he would half-finish and allow to grow cold, forcing him to start all over again. The day dragged on; he eventually spent most of it turning over pages in stacks of reference books he'd brought with him into the kitchen.
Willow sat engrossed in her computer, looking tense, obsessively searching the web for anything that might prove pertinent, so far with thin results. She was taciturn on the subject of the morning's demon encounter, saying only that the creature appeared deranged and that Buffy and Spike had dealt with it.
Dawn went to school as usual. There was no reason to believe she was in any unusual danger, and there was no point in having her hanging around the house doing nothing and driving herself (and everyone else) into a frenzy of nerves. And without her knowing it, Spike had set Clem and some of his mates to watch over her throughout the day.
By unspoken mutual consent, neither Spike nor Buffy mentioned their odd experience to anyone else. After coming indoors they simply stood in the hallway lost in each other for a while, looking, touching lightly, barely speaking, their need for one another suddenly awakened by the brief battle.
Buffy whispered, "Come on," and led Spike upstairs to her bedroom. Then they were in each other's arms, kissing hungrily but without frenzy this time. He pressed his hands up her back, feeling her warmth and power, her heart beating against him. Her hot, strong little hands moved under his shirt, exploring his chest and ribs and back so tenderly, leaving a trail of singing heat; she pressed the length of her body against him, and drew him towards the bed.
Shedding every scrap of clothing, they kissed again slowly, over and over, and made love even more slowly, not silent but wordless. Wherever his hands roved her body - over that thudding, amazing little heart, in, around, underneath - however thrilling her response, he couldn't take his eyes from hers. Even when she drew him in and he began to move over her he couldn't resist those luminous, tawny eyes until the very last seconds, when he was torn away; then he almost frantically sought her gaze again, his hands cupping her face.
Afterwards they lay there contentedly entwined, not talking, not sleeping, not thinking; just feeling each other's bodies, his warmed and hers cooled by contact with the other. As the afternoon slipped away and twilight began to fall, they at least were at peace - and gathering strength.
"So, any questions?" Spike asked the assembled Scoobies and other assorted world-savers. The day had seemed to last forever, one way or another, but at around six-thirty the others finally began to arrive. First Jonathan, still nervous but clearly resolved, his bag of magical props in hand. Then Anya and Xander, she serene (and once more beautifully put together) and he nervous and jokey. Clem came by after Dawn got home from school, to consult with Spike on final details of his patrol. They all sat around the dining room table.
Jonathan raised his hand, a bit tentatively. "What if it goes wrong? What if we fail?" he asked bluntly.
"Then thousands of hell-creatures emerge, we all die, and Sunnydale literally becomes Hell on earth," Spike said. "So we don't fail."
"If any creepies do climb out of - well, Hell - can we really stop them?" Buffy said. "Keep them from escaping into the wild?"
"If the Hellmouth does open, even a crack, we don't know what might emerge - besides a miscellany of beasts, there might be poisonous fumes, lightening, flames - there's no way to tell, unfortunately," Giles answered. "So we have to be prepared to think on our feet and make use of what weapons we have. And, if at all possible, keep it from opening."
"Poisonous fumes?" said Jonathan. "I've got allergies."
"Don't worry," Buffy reassured him, "last time it cracked open, there was just a lot of smoke and stuff, no poison."
"And a big scary giant demon that almost killed us all, of course," Willow said helpfully.
Willow and Dawn stood in the doorway and watched them drive away. Before they left, Dawn hugged Buffy tight for a minute. "Take care," she whispered.
"I will," Buffy promised. "And I'll take care of everyone else, too. I promise." She pushed Dawn's silky hair off her face. "See you soon, okay?"
Spike found a moment to speak to Willow alone.
"Listen, Red; I tried to say before - well, something might be after you personally tonight. One or more of your former playmates."
There was mortification and a hint of panic in her eyes. "Does - does everyone know about them? Does Buffy know what I did?"
"Only Rupert and I know. The lot of them wouldn't understand it, anyhow. But look, you'll be safe. We warded the house - nothing can get in tonight. So even if you see some stray lurkers outside, like that geezer this morning, don't worry. Nothing they can do, alright?"
She couldn't meet his eyes. He was saying the whole thing was her fault, all of it. She knew that. "Thanks," she said.
As it turned out, Jonathan solved their first problem. They arrived in the park, site of Warren's Hellmouth venture, well before sundown, but locating the exact spot where the barrier between this world and The Other Side was now weakest wasn't so easy. Unfortunately, the ever-efficient Sunnydale Parks Department, working over and above the call of duty as usual, had scrubbed Warren's pentagram from the grass and removed the debris that was all that was left of his diabolical machine (whatever it was). But Jonathan led them to the exact spot without hesitation.
"That's one thing I'm good at," he said modestly, "locating spells."
"Go to it, mate," Spike said approvingly. He lit a cigarette and watched as Jonathan tossed a handful of sparkling enchanted sand in the air, and then held his magic bone out before him like a dowsing rod.
"It's definitely over here," he said confidently.
"Right, then," Spike said, with barely a leer. "Follow the bone."
They trailed after Jonathan as he led them across the park. The darkening sky was still overcast, and gusts of wind tossed the well-kept trees. A few flashes of distant lightning flickered, and there were far-off rumblings as well.
"Here we are," he said when they reached a barren-looking area.
"Uh, guys," Xander said, "I think this is definitely the spot, all right."
Buffy gave him an inquiring look. "Over there," he said, pointing the large axe he carried at a nearby swing set. The metal a-frame was canted over at a surrealistic angle, and the swings rested on the ground in a tangle of chains.
"Unless they've got some really overweight kids this year," Xander added.
As they watched, the feet of the swing set melted and sunk into themselves, and the structure crumpled sideways with a metallic screech. Thin smoke rose from the dehydrated grass surrounding it.
It was growing darker by the minute, and a chilly wind gusted about them. But the ground beneath their feet was hot.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"And a magic voice and verse
Hath baptiz'd thee with a curse;
And a spirit of the air
Hath begirt thee with a snare;
In the wind there is a voice
Shall forbid thee to rejoice;
And to thee shall night deny
All the quiet of her sky;
And the day shall have a sun,
Which shall make thee wish it done."
Lord Byron, Manfred
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
-------------------------------------------
RETURN
Part 30. Wish It Done
Giles knew Buffy and Spike had slipped upstairs together. If anyone asked, he intended to say they probably had a lot to talk about, though he couldn't imagine anyone being fool enough to believe it. Even Xander.
Buffy and Spike were actually the only ones enjoying this day. Giles had to admit he was edgy. A Watcher knows no fear, or at least not much; it was either prevail or die - along with the rest of the world. No matter how many times this particular situation arose, he thought sardonically, somehow it never grew monotonous. He prowled a bit through the living room, dining room, and kitchen; snatched an occasional few minutes of banal news programs on television, and made himself innumerable cups of tea, which he would half-finish and allow to grow cold, forcing him to start all over again. The day dragged on; he eventually spent most of it turning over pages in stacks of reference books he'd brought with him into the kitchen.
Willow sat engrossed in her computer, looking tense, obsessively searching the web for anything that might prove pertinent, so far with thin results. She was taciturn on the subject of the morning's demon encounter, saying only that the creature appeared deranged and that Buffy and Spike had dealt with it.
Dawn went to school as usual. There was no reason to believe she was in any unusual danger, and there was no point in having her hanging around the house doing nothing and driving herself (and everyone else) into a frenzy of nerves. And without her knowing it, Spike had set Clem and some of his mates to watch over her throughout the day.
By unspoken mutual consent, neither Spike nor Buffy mentioned their odd experience to anyone else. After coming indoors they simply stood in the hallway lost in each other for a while, looking, touching lightly, barely speaking, their need for one another suddenly awakened by the brief battle.
Buffy whispered, "Come on," and led Spike upstairs to her bedroom. Then they were in each other's arms, kissing hungrily but without frenzy this time. He pressed his hands up her back, feeling her warmth and power, her heart beating against him. Her hot, strong little hands moved under his shirt, exploring his chest and ribs and back so tenderly, leaving a trail of singing heat; she pressed the length of her body against him, and drew him towards the bed.
Shedding every scrap of clothing, they kissed again slowly, over and over, and made love even more slowly, not silent but wordless. Wherever his hands roved her body - over that thudding, amazing little heart, in, around, underneath - however thrilling her response, he couldn't take his eyes from hers. Even when she drew him in and he began to move over her he couldn't resist those luminous, tawny eyes until the very last seconds, when he was torn away; then he almost frantically sought her gaze again, his hands cupping her face.
Afterwards they lay there contentedly entwined, not talking, not sleeping, not thinking; just feeling each other's bodies, his warmed and hers cooled by contact with the other. As the afternoon slipped away and twilight began to fall, they at least were at peace - and gathering strength.
"So, any questions?" Spike asked the assembled Scoobies and other assorted world-savers. The day had seemed to last forever, one way or another, but at around six-thirty the others finally began to arrive. First Jonathan, still nervous but clearly resolved, his bag of magical props in hand. Then Anya and Xander, she serene (and once more beautifully put together) and he nervous and jokey. Clem came by after Dawn got home from school, to consult with Spike on final details of his patrol. They all sat around the dining room table.
Jonathan raised his hand, a bit tentatively. "What if it goes wrong? What if we fail?" he asked bluntly.
"Then thousands of hell-creatures emerge, we all die, and Sunnydale literally becomes Hell on earth," Spike said. "So we don't fail."
"If any creepies do climb out of - well, Hell - can we really stop them?" Buffy said. "Keep them from escaping into the wild?"
"If the Hellmouth does open, even a crack, we don't know what might emerge - besides a miscellany of beasts, there might be poisonous fumes, lightening, flames - there's no way to tell, unfortunately," Giles answered. "So we have to be prepared to think on our feet and make use of what weapons we have. And, if at all possible, keep it from opening."
"Poisonous fumes?" said Jonathan. "I've got allergies."
"Don't worry," Buffy reassured him, "last time it cracked open, there was just a lot of smoke and stuff, no poison."
"And a big scary giant demon that almost killed us all, of course," Willow said helpfully.
Willow and Dawn stood in the doorway and watched them drive away. Before they left, Dawn hugged Buffy tight for a minute. "Take care," she whispered.
"I will," Buffy promised. "And I'll take care of everyone else, too. I promise." She pushed Dawn's silky hair off her face. "See you soon, okay?"
Spike found a moment to speak to Willow alone.
"Listen, Red; I tried to say before - well, something might be after you personally tonight. One or more of your former playmates."
There was mortification and a hint of panic in her eyes. "Does - does everyone know about them? Does Buffy know what I did?"
"Only Rupert and I know. The lot of them wouldn't understand it, anyhow. But look, you'll be safe. We warded the house - nothing can get in tonight. So even if you see some stray lurkers outside, like that geezer this morning, don't worry. Nothing they can do, alright?"
She couldn't meet his eyes. He was saying the whole thing was her fault, all of it. She knew that. "Thanks," she said.
As it turned out, Jonathan solved their first problem. They arrived in the park, site of Warren's Hellmouth venture, well before sundown, but locating the exact spot where the barrier between this world and The Other Side was now weakest wasn't so easy. Unfortunately, the ever-efficient Sunnydale Parks Department, working over and above the call of duty as usual, had scrubbed Warren's pentagram from the grass and removed the debris that was all that was left of his diabolical machine (whatever it was). But Jonathan led them to the exact spot without hesitation.
"That's one thing I'm good at," he said modestly, "locating spells."
"Go to it, mate," Spike said approvingly. He lit a cigarette and watched as Jonathan tossed a handful of sparkling enchanted sand in the air, and then held his magic bone out before him like a dowsing rod.
"It's definitely over here," he said confidently.
"Right, then," Spike said, with barely a leer. "Follow the bone."
They trailed after Jonathan as he led them across the park. The darkening sky was still overcast, and gusts of wind tossed the well-kept trees. A few flashes of distant lightning flickered, and there were far-off rumblings as well.
"Here we are," he said when they reached a barren-looking area.
"Uh, guys," Xander said, "I think this is definitely the spot, all right."
Buffy gave him an inquiring look. "Over there," he said, pointing the large axe he carried at a nearby swing set. The metal a-frame was canted over at a surrealistic angle, and the swings rested on the ground in a tangle of chains.
"Unless they've got some really overweight kids this year," Xander added.
As they watched, the feet of the swing set melted and sunk into themselves, and the structure crumpled sideways with a metallic screech. Thin smoke rose from the dehydrated grass surrounding it.
It was growing darker by the minute, and a chilly wind gusted about them. But the ground beneath their feet was hot.
TBC
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"And a magic voice and verse
Hath baptiz'd thee with a curse;
And a spirit of the air
Hath begirt thee with a snare;
In the wind there is a voice
Shall forbid thee to rejoice;
And to thee shall night deny
All the quiet of her sky;
And the day shall have a sun,
Which shall make thee wish it done."
Lord Byron, Manfred