Chapter 48 - 28 July 2004
There's no detail this time, no train, just Moira and me, flying superman-style through an endless space filled with pinprick lights. Not that I can see her - it's more a sense of her at my side, and like that, without the physical evidence of her age, she seems strong and full of life. I send out my senses, trying to pick up Fiona's signal, and to my relief, I find it quickly. We move towards it, finding both Slayers where I left them. There's fear and pain in nauseating detail, and Angelus at the centre of everything. This time, it's different from any other time. With Willow, I just pointed out the direction and she did the transporting, so I missed out on the details, well, if you don't count last time. This time, I'm there; I can see the whole scene, smell the blood and the sickening stench of burned flesh. Buffy has a range of new burns on her body, most of them just areas of charred flesh, but one, on her chest, in the space between her breasts, is shockingly clear. It's a Claddagh – and it no doubt has some significance for Angelus.
Buffy looks worse than ever. She's in pain, but that's not the worst of it. The absolute misery coming off her in waves is like a physical sensation, sucking out all positive emotions and replacing them with despair. Fiona's more scared than any girl her age should have any reason to be, and hanging like she is, she's probably in some significant pain, but that's all I'm getting. No doubt she feels I've abandoned her, but I've got no way of letting her know I'm back.
I take a look around the room, searching for anything that might help, but there's nothing obvious - no apparent weapon. Then I spot a table placed between the two Slayers, and on it is a small stack of paper and some pencils. I take a quick look, and the page on top is a sketch of Buffy, her face contorted in agony. I always thought the bastard sketched like that so he could use the drawings to increase the terror in his intended victims. I can only assume these are for himself - to remember the horror he meted out to her.
Moira has been looking around too, and I point out the pencils to her; she seems to understand.
Angelus has a filthy, damp rag in his hand, and he's rubbing the brand mark on Buffy. "There you are, Buffy. I knew you'd look wonderful in the Claddagh – better than the ring – and you can't lose this one. In fact, I think it's time to get you properly cleaned up. How do you expect me to put up with you stinking like that? What do you say we just leave your pal here – I feel like having you all to myself tonight."
He approaches the manacles at her wrists with a key, roughly unlocking her arms and pulling her off-balance. She slumps into his arms for a moment, and he makes a comment about needing to be patient, but she quickly struggles to her feet despite the cost that exacts in pain. I recognise the tingle of magic as Moira reaches out, and Fiona's gone. I feel a wave of relief that we've achieved that much, and then there's a smaller sensation of magic, and a pencil has found its way from the table into Buffy's hand.
Angelus' attention is drawn from Buffy as the chains that had held Fiona hit the stone wall, and, with a speed born of desperation, Buffy takes her opportunity to use the pencil to stake him. His face is a mask of disbelief, but it's all over in a second. With the effort of staking him, Buffy falls to her knees, smiling quietly to herself.
There's another pull of magic, and Buffy's gone too. Moira reaches out to me, and moments later, I flop back into my body and open my eyes. This time, I'm not the centre of anyone's attention, and I take in the various scenes playing out before me. I glance over to the chair where Moira's sitting, and see Dawn hugging her. To my left is Gus, kneeling on the floor and cradling Fiona, who's sobbing out her relief into his shoulder. There's no evidence of injury other than where her wrists were manacled, but we can get her checked out later. On my right is a small crowd with Buffy and Giles leaning over the other rescued Slayer. I home in on her heartbeat, and it's dangerously weak. I listen to what's being said there, but stay out of sight. She doesn't need to see one of her enemies just now, and to her, that's all I'll ever be.
"Giles? You're here!" she whispers. "You died ... everyone died. He killed all of them – all my friends, anyone I cared about. I never had the chance to say … sorry."
"There's no need, Buffy. Look, we can try to heal you. Just hold on."
"No. This is good. I got him in the end. I dusted Angelus. It's all I've been waiting for, the only thing that gave me hope. Anyway, I know what's in store for me - been there, would still be there if Angelus hadn't dragged me back. It's ok."
She pauses then and seems to be gathering her strength. A puzzled frown comes over her face. "Just one thing - who was it who came? She said it was someone in her head. Someone who knew … you - who loved you."
My Buffy smiles at that. "You're going to find that hard to believe." She moves to her left, clearing a line of sight between the other Buffy and me.
"S … Spike? Spike is saving Slayers?"
"Yeah," my Buffy answers.
"So now I'm in bizarro land." Her voice has been getting weaker throughout, and she breathes another twice, before her heart falters and stops. Giles gently closes her eyes. You often hear people saying that the dead look at peace, but the horrendous injuries that are visible on her body, the most recent of which is the parody of a Claddagh, prevent that impression. You've just got to believe from everything my Buffy remembers from when she was dead, and the memories of this Buffy, that she's in a better place now, and that her suffering is over.
I tear my eyes away from her, and that's when I see Dawn. She's close to Moira, and she's shaking her arm. The old woman looks pleased, her mouth formed into a gentle smile, and her eyes are closed. I jump out of the chair, desperately trying to hear her heat beat, and when I manage to pick it out I'm horrified. And then I hear her whisper my name.
"Spike."
I'm at her side, and I kneel to be closer to her.
"It's ok, Moira. We'll get an ambulance. Don't talk - save your strength." I glance up and Giles nods to indicate he'll do that.
"Too late. Is Fiona ok?"
"Yes."
"And the other Buffy?"
"Gone somewhere better."
She nods once.
"And you?"
"I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."
"Don't. Spike, that's … your biggest … failing. You … care … too much. I … chose this. Would … do it … again. Guilt … is such … a waste."
Her struggling heart stops then, a silence in my ears that's almost deafening. While Moira was talking, Buffy joined me on the floor. I pull Moira from the chair, laying her flat. I don't need to tell Buffy what I want - she breathes for Moira while I do compressions, alternating in some sort of automatic pattern.
We keep up the work until the ambulance arrives, then move away while the paramedics take over, but it's obvious from their expressions that they think it's hopeless. Relieved of breathing for Moira, Buffy goes to comfort Dawn, and the two girls hug as she sobs broken-heartedly. I feel completely lost. The paramedics continue to work on Moira, getting her ready for transport to hospital. A glance outside shows that it's dark, something I haven't taken note of for what seems like days, so I offer to follow the ambulance with Dawn while Buffy goes along with Moira. Giles is torn, but volunteers to remain to look after Willow.
We drive to the hospital – not the private one Giles had set up – it's back to the Southern General in tense silence. Dawn's tears stopped as soon as Moira was loaded onto the ambulance. I'm worried for her. I'm scared she thinks that the fact that Moira's on her way to hospital means that she's going to be ok. I can't fault the paramedics – they're doing everything they can - but I just know what the verdict will be once she's at the hospital. Moira's a tough old bird, but she's not a Slayer. I know death when I see it. I've caused it often enough.
Once at the hospital, Moira's rushed into A and E, into a room where we can't follow. Instead, we're taken aside by someone at reception, and we answer a host of questions. We're sent to sit in the waiting area, and what seems like hours later but in reality is probably much less, we're taken aside.
"How is she?" Buffy asks. The doctor looks strained. It can't be easy giving bad news even if you have to do it regularly.
"Mrs. McConnechie was pronounced dead a few moments ago. There was nothing we could do."
Dawn seems ready to attack the doctor, and Buffy pulls closer to me, squeezing my hand to the point of pain.
"She can't be. They ... they kept breathing for her. You've got to go and try again. You've got to ..." Dawn's voice is shrill.
"Everything was done that could have been. The damage to her heart was just too great. It must have been a massive heart attack – even if she had been in hospital when it happened, it's unlikely we could have done anything for her."
Dawn turns around, looking at Buffy and me, as if willing us to argue, but there's nothing else we can say. We each raise an arm towards her, and she falls into our arms, one sobbing girl, another who's unnaturally quiet, and a shocked and miserable vampire in a desperate huddle.
"I need to call Giles," Buffy mutters some time later. She searches her pockets for her phone, and dials the number. She starts to speak twice before giving up and handing the phone to me.
"Rupert, she's gone. Moira's dead."
"I see. I'll inform Gus, and we've got details of her legal representation in the office. I'll contact them in the morning so that they can handle the formalities. Are you coming back here?"
"I suppose so," I manage. "How's Willow doing?"
"The same. She seems peaceful, but unresponsive."
I always intended to keep the call short, but in truth, there's nothing more to say. Giles would sound cold to some, but I know better. Sometimes, it's easier to seem cold, to let the necessities take over while you come to terms with a tragedy.
A short while later, we make our way back out to the car, but there's an air of unreality, a strange shimmer to the air that makes me glad it's late and that there's not much traffic on the road. I take the girls into Moira's flat, but that doesn't seem to help Dawn. For a moment, I'm about to suggest going into my flat, but there's the small matter of a dead and mutilated Slayer in there, so that's not a good idea.
I put the kettle on - there's something about the routine of making tea that's almost comforting in itself - then take a cup to each of the girls.
"I'm going to pop next door - see what's happening with Willow."
Dawn grabs my hand, as if to try to keep me there, but I squeeze it gently.
"I'll be right back. Not leaving you two alone tonight, not unless you want me to."
She nods at that, and Buffy gives me a slight smile.
I let myself into the flat, and take a look in the living room. The other Buffy is still lying where she was, although someone has taken a sheet and covered her with it. From there, I go into the spare room, where I find Giles, eyes closed and with his head on his hand in a chair next to the bed.
"How's she doing?" I ask, softly.
He wakes with a start, but being Giles, has to pretend that he wasn't asleep.
"The same."
"I'm going to stay with Buffy and Dawn tonight - so my bed's going to be empty if you need to crash."
"Er … no. I want to stay here in case she comes round. I've had a call from Gwynneth - with her flight details. I'm going to collect her in … " he looks at his watch, "six hours."
"I'll take over then," I promise.
"I've made some calls, and there should be someone around to collect … the other Buffy. We'll arrange a small, private burial as soon as we can. The Council will take care of the formalities. I called Gus to tell him. Fiona's at home with her family. She didn't want to go to hospital tonight, and Gus wasn't going to argue with her. And Angel has gone to his hotel. The injured Slayer's family has arrived, and he felt in the way. I told him what happened too."
"Good." I pause, trying to find the words I need to say. "Rupert, I'm sorry. You were right. Moira wasn't up to it, and I should have stopped her."
"No more than I. She wasn't a child, not an immature Slayer. She was a mature woman, wise in the ways of the world. She made a choice, in the knowledge that to do otherwise was to condemn Fiona to a horrible fate. Whatever you're guilty of, it shouldn't be this. She told me once, about a year ago, that she had lived too long without Duncan, her late husband. She believed that when she died, she would be with him again. Let us both hope that she's with him now, that they've been reunited."
"If that's what she believed, then I'm sure that's what happened. Never known that woman to be wrong."
Giles smiles wryly at that, and I leave him to go back to Buffy and Dawn.
The sight that greets me when I get back is surprising but welcome. Dawn's asleep, her head on Buffy's shoulder.
"Can you help me lift her?" Buffy asks. "I could do it, but from this angle, I'd probably wake her."
I lift her carefully, and Buffy gets up and leads the way into the bedroom she's been sharing with her sister. Buffy pulls down the covers, and I place Dawn on the bed, leaving Buffy to make her sister comfortable.
When Buffy comes back out, she comes straight into my arms. I hold her close for a while, but then she steps back and looks at me.
"What's going to happen to the other me?"
"Giles is arranging a funeral."
"She … he hurt her so badly. I know what he was like - knew what he did to Giles - but seeing it like that … on my body … and that … thing on her chest."
"The Claddagh?"
"Yeah. He … Angel … gave me a Claddagh ring for my seventeenth birthday. That was the night we … that he lost his soul. After I sent him to Hell, I took the ring, put it on the spot where I … last saw him. I never saw it again, but it was the same spot where there was an Angel-shaped scorch mark after he got back."
"I guessed it was special in some way. It's Angelus' style to take something good and turn it into a source of pain."
"Where's Angel? Still at the hospital?"
"No. Her family came, so he's gone to his hotel."
"Good. He shouldn't see … the body."
"Maybe he shouldn't. I don't know."
"How're you anyway?"
"I'm fine," I tell her. "Just … I just wish I could be having this conversation with Moira too."
"Yeah.."
"Do you want to get some sleep? You go and I'll stay in here."
"No, Spike. I know there's a bed in there, and that it'd be more comfortable than the sofa, even with Dawn's snoring to contend with, but I just need to be touching you. I need to be sure that you're here, that you came back. I thought I'd lost you, and with everything else, it's like you're my anchor, and if you're gone, I'll just drift away."
I stroke her face then, and I kiss her, and we walk over to the sofa where we sit, her head on my shoulder, as we wait for the dawn, and the way that the world goes on despite the passing of a brave and wonderful woman.
I can't fully take it in. Moira made me believe I could do what I'd set out to do - make a life for myself. Her belief in me let me believe in myself. I don't know - maybe it was her age, the fact that she seemed to be right about everything else, so I believed she was right about me. And she brought Buffy back into my life. I was ready to give up that dream. Moira showed me I could have both. I just wish she was going to be here to see it happen.
I've been on this earth a long time, and I've seen death – death I didn't cause. So many good people gone, but apart from when Buffy died, I can't think that someone's death has ever hurt so much.
