Hello, all.

Well, bring on the angst. For once, it's not Buffy or Spike, but I think it'll hit home nearly as hard in the context of this story.

It will be okay in the end. At least mostly so. But I cranked the action, and the pain, up a notch in this (rather short) chapter.

Hopefully, I'll have more to you next week, RL permitting.

Enjoy ... and feedback fuels the Muse.

Cheery Vibes

Nimue

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

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Title: Hope for Salvation (Chapter Thirty-nine - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Spike is forced to leave the realm of the Sky Queen unexpectedly. Willow readies herself to do battle against the Master. Buffy prepares to defend her family. Wes, Gunn and Xander rush to help. And Angel tries to save Cordelia....

Hope for Salvation

The Sky Queen paused a moment, her elegant head tilting as if she had stopped suddenly to listen to the world around her. The rest noticed, not hearing anything, but sets of eyes darted around the landscape, trying to see what the Queen was sensing. By the look on her face, it could not be good.

"Would you like me to take them, madam?" the winged horse said solemnly as he drew himself up from his knees and spread enormous wings to either side. "It will be dark now, and..."

"No," the Queen answered. "My emissary.... Emma can find her way back."

"S'there a rush?" Spike asked, still holding the quiet child against him, his eldest daughter pressed to his back and Joyce standing next to them, trying to soak up the feeling of family she had missed for so long.

The Sky Queen nodded. "The portals of Hell have opened into your world. An evil stranger has captured the most innocent of your warriors and another..." The Queen's eyes dropped... "Another will soon make her home with us without the last choice being made."

"What?" Spike asked, tensing. "Earth languages, please, Love."

The Queen looked over at Spike. "The future is not yours to know. But it is time you went home. Your family is in danger. "

Forcing himself to be gentle despite his fear, Spike slowly lowered the little girl onto the ground, crouching down next to her. "See you soon, Pet. All right? Seems we've got a little work to do before you come to visit. That is, if you want to, Pet."

The little girl looked at him again, all wide-eyed innocence. "Think I'd like that," she finally whispered shyly. "Very much."

Spike shot a glance to the Queen who nodded. "She will be prepared, Spike. But now it is time to do your duty."

With a sharp nod, the Vampire looked quickly at Joyce, watching her sad, sweet eyes say goodbye. No time. He leaned over, placing a kiss on her cheek. "You're always with us, you know that?"

She nodded once. "I know."

"Thank you," he whispered, grabbing Emma's hand, taking one last look at the scene, and setting off at a jog across the brown sugar soil.

"We need to get her to a hospital."

"No time."

"Can't do anything here."

"Maybe Takina...."

"It's closer."

"In all honesty, I believe we'd be best served in a medical facility..."

"Wesley, shut up. No time. We need to..."

"Takina."

"Can she help?"

"I don't know. She's... she's lost a lot of blood."

"Man, this isn't good. "

"Angel?"

"Angel?"

"Angel?"

The dark Vampire knelt beside his fallen girl, watching the red spread out to the sides. Would she want that? Would she be the same? He could hear her heart slowing with every second ticking off the clock.

No doctor could fix this. It was too late.

But he could.

Would she want this?

Could he find a way to keep her soul?

With a huff of effort, Angel leaned down and scooped the blood soaked girl from the ground, cradling her against him. His face stung. Tears. He'd forgotten what those felt like, even though he'd probably cried a lake in his life.

"Wesley," Angel said quietly, seeing that the other two were still quite irrational. Things suddenly seemed very clear to the Vampire. "Go. Stop the Master and retrieve Tara. I don't care how you do it, but I'm betting that Spike will be back in time to help. Once it's under control, I want you to bring both Tara and Willow to me, unharmed." He paused, thinking of a safe place. "To Spike's crypt. I need them before sunrise. Do you understand?"

Wesley quirked an eyebrow at Angel. "We need to help her," the mystic said quietly.

Angel nodded once more. "I'm going to get help for her now. Okay? But you need to stop the Master. And you need to bring the girls to me. Promise me, Wesley."

With a nod, Wes gave his consent. Wisely, the other two men kept their mouths shut throughout the quiet exchange, afraid Angel might break into a thousand pieces were he questioned in any way.

Besides, if any of them wanted the prom queen to survive, it was Angel. They all loved her in their own way, but the Vampire had the most to lose.

"Go," Angel stated quietly, then disappeared into the dark, his love clutched against his chest.

Willow took up her position on the sidewalk of the darkened street, steeling herself. She didn't much care anymore if anyone saw her for what she was. She was a Witch, and if the eternally blind folks of Sunnydale did see her in action, well, they'd likely forget about it by morning.

A look up and a nod to the moon and she began to draw power. Summoning it around her like a shield and a weapon. No one was taking Tara. No one was touching Buffy. No one was going to stop what they had started.

No one.

Ever.

Wind whipped up and Willow could feel it building. She could feel everything more intensely. Including the hole in the fabric of reality exposing Hell to this world. Or the other way around.

Had to be Luke and Gwydion.

Which meant that Spike had succeeded and they were pissed. Great. Another bunch of evil cartoon characters to contend with.

But Spike would be home soon and that would free her up to help....

With a jolt, Willow was knocked back to the sidewalk, and then lifted up into the air, suspended above the ground in a vise-like grip. Focus, she thought, trying to use the power she'd built to break free. Focus.

A dark figure came into her view, standing above her, looking down and smiling. "You may be powerful, little Witch," he hissed, dropping a cold hand to her face and caressing, "but you are still a novice."

With a crack, he let her fall to the ground, her head thudding against the sidewalk and the lights, suddenly, going dark.

Buffy felt it more than heard it. A presence entering her house. Her sanctuary. One that didn't belong.

A glance downward showed her daughter and Spike still unconscious, breathing slowly, deeply, in unknowing slumber. Willow had presumably left when Buffy told her to.

It was up to her.

With a put-upon sigh, Buffy pushed herself up on her good arm, holding the broken one against her, and slid quietly from the bed. Weapons, she thought, grabbing a stake from the bedside table and tucking it into her jeans. A helm axe would be nice, she thought to herself, but unavailable -not to mention unrealistic, with only one arm to balance and move.

Again, without hearing, Buffy sensed the padding of feet up the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. In rhythm with her heart. The waiting was the worst. Once the battle started....

A pause while the ... thing... thought about its next move. Buffy used the time to position herself between the door and the bed. No one was touching her family. Not this Master. Not any before. Not any after.

A fleeting thought of what must have happened to Angel and the others crossed her mind. No. Not now. Later. Can't think about that now.

It seemed like an eternity between the time the creature had finished climbing the stairs and when the knob turned. No grand entrances for this one. No wind gushing through and exploding the door into splinters.

Just a slow, long turn of the knob.

An eternity to wait for battle.

Wesley jogged down the street, Xander and Gunn following. No one spoke. This was getting all getting too surreal and too much was happening at once. The Master had Tara. Willow was getting all magic-ed up. There were two houses full of people in danger.

And Cordy.

For once, Wesley had a clue what Angel had in mind, but his rational brain chose not to think about it. Chose to think that Angel would rise above his baser instincts and keep her alive until help could arrive.

But part of him knew differently.

Still, there was no arguing the point. Not with so many on the line. They could argue after....

Don't think.

The goal was to stop this Master Vampire. To protect the many. Then save the few. That had always been the goal. Always been their credo, however painful it had been at times.

Protect the many.

Hope for salvation.

Angel kicked open the door to the crypt where Spike had lived before their lives had all taken the most surreal of turns. Still, it was the mark of the true Master Vampire of Sunnydale and had to be kept up for appearance's sake, although Angel really didn't want to know what the dark, candlelit room was used for these days.

Slowly, he made his way to the stone shell of a sarcophagus and laid Cordelia down, her hair spilling out behind her and a dark red stain spreading far more slowly from underneath.

"Cordy," Angel whispered, brushing her hair back from her face and watching her become paler, less alive, by the moment. "Tell me what to do, baby. Tell me."

She lay quietly, her eyes closed, her heart thready and slow. So slow. Tonight, she had no answers.

"Cordelia, they can't save you," Angel whispered, his palm on her cheek. "It was too late when we found you. Too much... blood."

The Vampire's stomach roiled, thinking of a day when such a sight would have been true bliss. Now, hearing the last ticks of his lover's heart, the sight of it made him want to vomit.

Tears began to streak his cheeks. "I don't want to lose you. I'm not ready to lose you," he began, rubbing his thumb along the line of her jaw. "And I don't want you to hate me."

He could hear her retort in his mind. 'I'll never hate you, you big dumbass'. Then the quirk of her eyebrow, wondering what he'd do next.

Angel slid onto the sarcophagus, sitting next to her. "Tell me what to do," he whispered, taking her cooling hands and pulling her upright. "Tell me what to do."

But Cordelia had no words left.

Angel listened to her heart thud slower. Slower. Slower.

Tears choked him as he drew her against him, wrapping his arms around her blood soaked back, kissing up the warmth left in her skin. Knowing that no feat of medicine could save her from this. No technology. Nothing short of magic.

And him.

"Please tell me," Angel whispered, praying, hoping that Willow could pull another Thessala move. Banking on it.

But there was no answer.

"I love you," Angel whispered, brushing her hair to one side and burying his face into her neck, smelling the scent of shampoo and perfume. "I love you."

With a needless inhalation of breath, he brought his true face to the fore and sunk his fangs into her neck, tears streaming down his cheeks as he drank. Fumbling in his pocket for a knife, he slit his own wrist. He laid her down, still drinking, feeling her heart slow. Slow. Slow.

Just before it ceased, he brought his wrist to her lips.

To be contd.