A/N: Chapter 1-4 could effectively be considered the prologue. They put the wheels in motion and set the rules this story plays by. The story starts picking up speed after the conclusion of the fourth chapter.
The comics are not canon for this story. All seven seasons of BtVS, and five seasons of AtS are. For the purpose of this story, Spike died again in LA, shortly after the credits rolled in the Angel series finale. I only say this because one reviewer mentioned they needed to catch up on the comics before reading. Any characters that seem 'new' likely are, not a character from the comics, and created for the story, and not playing more than a small, support role in it.
San Fran adventures never happened, no bug ship, no end of magic, Twilight, etc. for this story.
Anyways, hope you enjoy.
Immortal, Chapter 1
Slayers were immortal.
This went unknown for centuries, considering most Slayers died within the first year. It wasn't until Faith and her reached their mid-thirties that it was even thought of. It became apparent they weren't just aging well, but simply not aging. It wasn't that surprising when she had time to think about it and process the news. It made sense. Slayers gained their power from the essence of a demon, and demons didn't die like humans.
They weren't immortal in the conventional sense. After all, she was currently bleeding out and would likely die in the next few minutes. Barring fatal wounds, Slayers didn't age and could live forever, but they weren't Gods. Either way, she was fine with death...or at least accepted it. Forever was far too long and the world had gone to complete shit sometime in the last fifteen years. By the time she noticed, it was too far gone and all she could do was slow the spread.
The coroner would likely note that she was a specimen, one of incredible health, in their autopsy. Buffy Summers was 38 years old, only weeks away from her 39th birthday, but her body was as youthful as when she was Chosen at Hemery back before the turn of the century.
She always felt like life flashing before your eyes was bullshit, but Buffy never would have imagined some of her last thoughts would be about high school. High school and a Slayer lifespan she wouldn't get to take advantage of...and him. Her thoughts weren't always on him, but even a decade later, a day rarely passed when he didn't pop into her mind one way or another. Spike.
She couldn't help but wonder. Who would keep his memory alive when she was gone?
The deep sigh snapped her out of thought. Staring up at the tall man, it took considerable effort to offer a small smile. It was genuine. The PTB could have sent Whistler, but she preferred Oruvai. Whistler brought up too many bad memories. Oruvai didn't. Plus, he didn't smell and his personality was much more tolerable.
He kneeled down beside Buffy, taking in her wounds as he placed his hand softy on her shoulder.
"We won." She gritted out. It was a statement, not a question.
"Pyrrhic victory at best it seems." Oruvai replied, his tone somber. "Less than ten will leave here alive."
She led a small army for the PTB to stop this most recent cataclysm. It wasn't the usual run of the mill event, far worse than the average apocalypse that popped up a few times a year. More than forty slayers, Watchers, and allies of the New Council followed her into battle, and she expected losses...just not this significant, and to be honest, she didn't expect herself to be among the casualties.
She made a mistake. She knew as soon as the battle started, one of which they thought they would have the advantage in numbers. Instead, it was closer to two demons for every one of them.
Buffy broke eye contact with Oruvai, staring up at the ceiling of the cave. She could accept her mistake costing her own life, it was known with the job, but she felt guilt for the others she led directly to their deaths. She swallowed back. All she could taste was guilt and blood.
"If I could weep, I would." Oruvai said. "For you especially."
"It's okay." She replied. She was surprised that her statement wasn't really a lie. "I've been waiting to go back."
Seventeen years to be exact. Since she was pulled out of Heaven. She desperately wanted to go back. Almost more than anything.
"You deserve to rest." He replied.
She couldn't help but ask the question. She demanded the PTB to bring Spike back after he died a hero for the second time, in LA when she wasn't around to tell him she loved him. Swore she would fight against them, go "full Faith" and do her best evil Slayer impression. Ultimately, they said it was impossible. They couldn't bring Spike back. Not that they weren't able, they brought Angel back and others as well. It was the way the PTB representatives spoke and how carefully those choose their words. It wasn't a matter of wanting, but a matter of possibility. They couldn't.
For years, she was too much of a coward to ask why. She refused to die without finally asking the question she should have years prior.
"Is he there?" She asked. There was no need to say his name.
After a few seconds, Oruvai shook his head. "No."
"He's-He's not?" She whispered, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. "He's been in Hell this whole time?"
"No," He replied, shaking his head. "He's...he's gone."
"What?" She managed, panic filling her chest.
"The first time he saved the world, it burnt him up and sent him to Hell. The second time...it just burnt him up."
"What...no..." She was losing the ability to form words, or even think straight, and she wasn't sure if it was from the blood loss or all of the new information that was being dumped on her.
"Illyria and Spike closed the portal, erased all the demons that had crossed over to Earth." Oruvai let out a sigh, taking a second to compose himself before finishing. "She used the remaining power she had as an Old One, which wasn't much, but enough. Spike was with her. He was an anchor, a conduit of sorts. They sacrifice themselves to save the world."
Buffy didn't reply, but Oruvai could see the pleading in her eyes for more truth, more information, and most importantly, understanding.
"They aren't in Hell being tortured. But they aren't in Heaven either. They're gone. Spike and her both."
It finally made sense to Buffy as tears freely rolled down the side of her face.
He was a hero. He deserved Heaven, but his fate was possibly even worse than an eternity in Hell. Non-existence. Being torn apart and ripped away...his soul, his heart, everything that made Spike flawed and yet perfectly imperfect in his own way, gone. Nothing left to put back together and send to paradise or imprisonment.
"Rest now, you deserve it more than anyone." Oruvai said.
"No," Buffy managed. "It's not if he's not there."
"Buffy," He tried to no avail.
"Not without him. Please..." She choked out through the tears.
"There is noth- "
"Please...please..." She begged, as her vision began to narrow. Darkness creeping in from the corners and beginning to slowly form a silhouette around her friend's face.
His face shifted after a second, from one of uncertainty to firm resolution. "They might erase me from existence as well for this."
"Please..." She repeated, at this point not even hearing his word as she slipped away.
"I'll give you a choice. Nothing more." He said.
For a brief second, his eyes flashed in a hue of gold. She felt a brief rush of pain, then nothing.
IMMORTAL
There was nothing. Nothing for a period of time, perhaps an instant or millennia. An unknown quantity, but as soon as consciousness snapped into being she was aware of the void. Nothing, and everything, and the unknown all in one. The actual passage of time was unknown and beyond grasp.
Her hand.
Buffy was staring at her hand. With her own two eyes, suddenly aware of her vision, and her body, and the arm that was holding her right hand out a few feet from her face.
She was sitting, her legs crossed and tucked under her bottom like a small child. Stumbling, she rose to her feet. Standing on nothing solid, nothing of permeance. For a brief second, her eyes scanned around, above, and below. A dull white was all she saw, and she wasn't sure why she wasn't falling or floating.
Her body wasn't the one she was in moments, or eons, before . The wounds, broken ribs, and internal bleeding were gone. Her clothes were different. A plain blue t-shirt and jeans. The outfit was vaguely familiar but she wasn't sure why.
Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed the figure that snapped into existence.
"Mom?" She squeaked out.
Joyce's smile was as beautiful and warming as she remembered.
"Is it really you?" She asked.
Joyce nodded. "Buffy."
She closed the distance to wrap her mother in a hug. Sobs rattled through her chest as she buried her face in the crook of Joyce's neck.
"I missed you so much." She said.
"Oh, Buffy." Joyce replied, as she wrapped her arms around her daughter and felt her melt into her embrace. "I'm so, so proud of you."
Buffy tried to reply, but her words couldn't form anything coherent besides telling her mother she loved her over and over again. Finally, she felt her mother start to retreat back. Buffy raised her eyes to look at her mother, disappointed when the physical contact was broken.
"What is this? Where are we?" Buffy asked, continuing, "This is different than..."
"Than last time?" Joyce offered.
Buffy nodded, a tear that was holding on for dear life at the corner of her cheekbone breaking free and careening down her cheek. "Yeah, good different. Much of the good."
"This isn't heaven Buffy." Joyce said. "This is a choice, that's all."
Oruvai's words echoed through Buffy's mind for a second.
I'll give you a choice...nothing more...
"I choose you," She replied as quickly as possible. "I choose this."
"I'm sorry dear, but that's not an option." Joyce said with a smile. "And regardless of your choice, it will always lead you back to me. Now, later, or both."
Buffy gasped as Joyce, for a lack of better word, flickered. She was gone for a split second, then standing in front of her once more. This happened a few more times in rapid succession.
"Mom, what's going on?" She asked.
"I don't belong here Buffy." Joyce reached out to touch her daughter's face, her smile beaming but holding sadness. " I love you so much. I'm so proud of you."
The next instant Joyce's hand was gone, as was she.
"Mom?" Buffy whispered, voice shaking as she spun around, searching desperately through the nothingness. "Mom? Mom!"
Buffy panicked. Her heart pounding and lungs heaving as she searched for anything. Then, she felt it. Somewhere in the distance. It was familiar. Her mom. Friends and people she knew.
Contentment.
The place she was pulled from over a decade before. Heaven, at least, her Heaven.
Her feet carried her, across what she didn't know, but she could feel it getting closer. Her pace quickened from a walk to a jog. She was almost there, until she felt it. A slight but powerful pull, as it demanded to be heard and no longer ignored. She stopped her movement for a second, twisting her head and body towards the other option.
It didn't matter. She knew what she wanted. Turning back, she continued on. Until her brain caught up to what she experienced. What she felt. For a brief moment, her heart stopped.
She spun back around, frozen in place as she let out a gasp.
This was different.
She could feel her mother there too, as well as friends and people she knew. Contentment was there as well, but mixed up with loads more and not purified. There was happiness and joy, but it was also mixed with sadness and despair. Anger. Elation, and worry. The entirety of the human emotional spectrum and experience ebbed and flowed from the direction of the second option, whatever that was.
There was another difference. She felt him.
Spike.
Her feet finally gained the power to move. She wasn't walking or jogging this time. She was sprinting.
In the direction of her mom, and her friends, as well as happiness and sadness all mixed and haphazardly intermingled together.
In the direction of Spike.
IMMORTAL
A blinding, disorienting light. Nothing one second, everything rushing into existence the next. Colors, shapes, objects. It was enough to make Buffy dizzy, even nauseous, as her knees buckled. She caught her own weight, getting her feet under her a moment before she would have crumpled to the ground.
She snapped her head in the direction of a concerned gasp.
"Buffy, are you okay?" The voice said.
Buffy's eye grew wide as she saw who it belonged to. Willow. Standing next to her, Xander and Giles. Anya was there too.
They were at Gile's, she recognized his old home instantly.
God, they looked so young, less worse for wear. That included Xander's face, as he stared at her with both eyes and a mouth that was slightly agape. Giles too, less wrinkles and no sign of the scarring that started on the left side of his face and ran halfway up his left cheek.
He hadn't gotten it yet? It hadn't happened yet, she thought? The spell that hit him in battle, that burned and scarred his face, happened years after the First, years after Xander lost his eye. Years after Sunnydale, and she was in Sunnydale, right? This house was in Sunnydale, right? Xander still had his eye? When was this? Where was Spike?
Her mind was spinning so fast she was frozen in place, her eyes darting between her friends as their expressions grew more worried.
The next voice that rang out caused her breathe to catch.
"What happened? Did we win?" Spike said.
Buffy's heart slammed against her chest, a soft exclamation escaping her lips, as she spun around.
Spike.
Towards the one corner of the living space, he was there. Ropes wrapped around his torso, toppled over along with the chair he was tied to. A few arrows sticking through his shoulder blades and torso caused her concern. How had she not noticed how lucky he was to not be dust the first time? Then again, it wasn't like she cared back then.
She took a step closer, then another, stopping when she was almost on top of Spike and staring down at him.
She knew when this was.
This was 1999. This was Thanksgiving. This was the day, albeit well into it, that Spike came back and stuck around permanently. Her heart sung a praise to Oruvai, wherever he was, emotion and appreciation racing through her body at the gift she was given. More accurately, the choice she was given.
It was never really that. Heaven could wait.
Getting the opportunity to be with Spike again, to undo their mistakes...to ensure that he wound up in Heaven with her this time...that wasn't a choice. That was the only option.
"Oi, Slayer!" Spike exclaimed. "I'm bloody shish kabob'd...a little help?"
She sprung into action, embarrassed she hadn't sooner. She reached down and grabbed onto the ropes tight across his chest, pulling him up as the chair followed. She was cautious, not wanting to cause him discomfort and remembering what he said before.
You don't have any circulation.
Well, it pinches!
She bent down slightly, matching his height while seated so they were face to face.
"Spike." She said. She couldn't keep her voice from oscillating slightly, trembling as she said his name.
Spike looked at her, confusion growing at the sparkle in the eyes and the way she was looking at him. After a few seconds, and her incessant staring, it turned into frustration.
"What?" Spike said, clearly annoyed.
All she could say was his name.
"Spike."
