Howdy, all!

Sorry for the stoppy and starty-ness of late, but real life has been a bugger. I did manage to squeak one out this week, although I know there will be no chapter next week. Sorry for that, but I'm going back East to spend my birthday with loved ones.

Hope you can forgive.

In the meantime, think up things Cordy might do to punish Angel!

Enjoy!

Cheery Vibes

Nimue

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

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

AlwaysEveryday (at)

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Title: Scent of a Woman (Chapter Forty-Two - 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: Willow and Tara do their best to restore Cordelia's soul. Buffy is told of what likely happened to her her high school nemesis and sometime friend. Spike meets his new family.

Scent of a Woman

Once started, it seemed that nothing could stop the flow. Like blood from a fatal wound, the energy poured into the most unlikely place. Light from Heaven, gifts from the Goddess, swirling about the tombs and the body of a Vampire.

And now seeking the corpse of yet another.

Tara and Willow were one. Hands joined over lit candles, unable to feel the burn of fire as the light consumed them. Lost in a song that not even they knew completely. Words came to them that they had never found in their mortal states.

But they were not mortal now. They were part of Her. Doing Her work.

Angel held her and wept. Wept for the lifelessness of her body. Wept for the loss of her soul. Stared in wonder as the light tried to find her in the white mist surrounding them.

And roared in her pain and his own as it struck home.

Cordelia's body rose up from the sarcophagus, arching and writhing as the chant continued, head lolling, face contorted in agony. Light pierced her like the sword of God, skewering her mortal body and holding it feet above the ground. Angel reached for her, but his own body burned in the light. His body felt wrapped in fiery bandages, unable to move, to help, to make it stop before this finished her.

A scream changed everything.

The chant stopped.

The light vanished.

The Witches fell back to the floor in unconscious exhaustion.

And Angel dropped forward enough to catch Cordelia as she fell to the stone, still screaming in agony.

"So, Cordelia is..." Buffy asked, her voice trembling, as they rode in the back of the car Gunn guided down the streets of Sunnydale.

"If her blood loss at the scene was any indication, I would have to say yes," Wesley answered solemnly. "But she was alive when we left."

"And no one took her to the hospital?" Again, Buffy's voice shook both with confusion and with fear.

"There was no time for that, Blondie," Gunn answered. "By the time we would have found a way to get her there..."

Spike felt something. A snap, or a connection, or something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He shuddered, staring out the window of the speeding car in order to forget the feeling. To forget what part of him already knew.

"So, Angel took her to find help though, right?" Buffy asked, feeling Spike's discontent and adding it to her own.

The car was silent in response.

"He helped her, right?"

Spike turned to look at Buffy. Part of what he loved most about her was that, despite all the years of horror and bloodshed, she still believed in the goodness of the World. That there was help for every lost or damaged soul and that help, particularly if it was her or Spike, would always make it in the nick of time.

"Love," the blond Vampire began, "listen to what they're saying." His voice was patient and kind, not his normal drive-the-point-home sarcasm. With a gentle hand, he took hers and held it, waiting. "She was dying, Pet. Near death. Watcher here didn't even think that she'd make it to help in time."

Buffy nodded, feeling it, knowing it, but not wanting to admit it.

"He loves her, Pet," Spike continued. "One thing our line has in common, when we fall, it's for always."

"Everyday," Buffy whispered under her breath, tears beginning to pool behind green glass eyes.

Spike nodded his reply. "And he wasn't ready to lose her."

Again, Buffy nodded, staring out the opposite window and waiting for the tears to come.

The crypt was dark and quiet. The candles were gone. The Witches were still where they'd fallen when the spell had ended. Angel stirred atop the stone, feeling somehow different, but the pain still ate at him like a frozen dagger.

Cordelia lay sprawled over the sarcophagus, her legs dangling over one side, her head over the other, two fresh puncture wounds healing quickly on her neck. Driving it home to Angel. Making it real.

She was a Vampire.

Angel swore an oath to himself that, especially if the Witches had been able to pull off a miracle, Cordy would never know that life. She'd be the first Vampire who never fed to survive. She'd never know the blackness of being devoid of soul. She'd never have to suffer like Drusilla.

Like William.

If this worked.

If it didn't, she'd go back to Heaven where she belonged. And he'd be strong enough, this time, to send her himself.

The door creaked open, carefully spilling the sunlight in the opposite direction. Angel almost chuckled. Spike had a flair for interior design. He'd placed his bed so that, when Buffy crashed down his door in the middle of the day, the light wouldn't have fried him on contact.

It was no surprise that it was the other Vampire who came in first. Who else knew what the scene inside the crypt would be? Who knew that Angel wouldn't even fight if they tried to send him to Hell right now? He deserved it thousands of times over. But mostly for this. Especially if he'd taken away her soul.

Spike scanned the room and spotted them all. Two girls on the floor, hearts beating steadily in sleep. Two Vampires on the stone sarcophagus. No heartbeat. Only scent.

With a smile, Spike instinctively sensed something that Angel was too lost to recognize.

The smell of souls.

Not that Spike was even about to let his grandsire off that easy for this.

With a quick turn of the head and a reassuring nod, Buffy streaked into the room, running for her best friends on the floor. Checking them over without even sparing Angel and his love a glance. It wasn't that she didn't care, just that she wasn't quite ready... there was no way for her to deal with this yet.

Gunn and Wesley followed slowly, like pallbearers at a funeral, walking in and standing on either side of Spike. Studying the scene. Wondering what had happened and if it had happened in time.

With an indrawn breath, Spike stepped forward towards the sarcophagus. Angel growled, gathering Cordelia to him and backing against the wall.

"Easy, poof. No interest in your bird." Spike was sure Angel already knew this, but the bond between Sire and true Childer was strongest at the beginning.

Angel slipped into game face and watched his elder Childe approach. The growling continued, but was less forceful. More bark. Less bite. The other three humans stared at the scene in fascination.

"Pay attention, Angel," Spike commanded, chuckling to himself. "Use your bloody sense."

A cock of his head and Angel sniffed the air like a dog, and Spike stepped closer. "Bit different now, what with the One and being tied up with Buffy's, but...."

"Mine," Angel growled, looking at Spike with confused eyes, and then looking down at Cordelia. "Mine."

Again, Spike chuckled. "See you've made me a new auntie. Childer too. Don't do that for just anyone."

"Love her," Angel mumbled, staring down at her with yellow eyes. "Loved Drusilla. Loved William." Drusilla may have made William a Vampire, but Angel had claimed him as his own.

Spike nodded, knowing that somewhere in that sadistic mind of his, he did love those he chose to carry on the line. The love was intense and often brutal, but it was definite.

"Spike," Wesley's voice quietly asked, "is this... should we be worried about Angelus?"

The blond Vampire cocked his head and studied his grandsire with steel blue eyes. Sniffed the air. Watched the movements. "S'not Angelus. Just a traumatized poofter with something to protect. He'll come round."

"Is she...?" Gunn asked, a very Xander-like part of him wanting to believe that the inevitable hadn't happened.

"A Vampire?" Spike completed, seeing the mark on her neck. The one mark that the Vampire would never lose. "That would be a yes."

"Souls?" Buffy asked quietly as Willow began to stir beside her.

A nod. "Witches did well, Love. I feel two."

Gunn came over to help Buffy get the Witches up from the floor and onto the couch in the living area, as Spike watched over his grandsire and Cordelia.

"She risen yet, Angel?" Spike asked, taking another step closer. Angel tensed, but didn't growl again, allowing Spike to work his way over to the stone and lean against it, just in front of the huddled pair.

"No," was his nearly inaudible answer.

"Sundown, then," Spike responded. "She'll want to feed."

"She'll never feed. Not like us," Angel growled, so low that only Spike could hear it as more than noise.

With a nod, Spike understood. He remembered the room of graves that Luke had built for him in La Maison Rouge. What it felt like to gaze upon the thousands of lives he had taken to survive. No soul should ever feel that. "Then we'll need to find her something."

"No human," Angel responded.

Spike chuckled. "What? I'm taking orders?"

Another growl from his grandsire. "Can't know you're missing it if..."

"You've never drank of the chalice," Spike finished. "Right then, butcher shop it is." The blond took a step back towards the door and stopped, turning round to face his grandsire. "You want me to be here when...?"

Angel shook his head, returning to human features. "No, I need to tell her... I need to explain..."

"She'll likely kick your arse," Spike chuckled. "And you've given her Vampire strength to do it."

With an eye roll, Angel huffed as Spike spun on a booted heel and collected his troops to go. But part of Angel, just a part, wondered if he should have let his grandchilde stay after all.

To be contd.