Entry tags:
Fic: Divided Destiny. Chapter 24
First chapter & notes here (on LJ), for DW just follow the tags, and Master post of whole 'verse here (also tagged on DW).
Can also be found on AO3.
(Despite AO3 - where I have many lovely readers - I do miss what LJ used to be like back in the day. Not that I was ever a BNF with a million followers and three hundred comments on every fic, but people read, and people talked. I realise it's my own fault for writing this fic ten years late, but I still miss it. I swear this is probably my most carefully plotted and written story, and my audience is mostly silent.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Teen. (Same warnings as the show basically.)
Characters: Spike, Angel, Illyria, Buffy, Scoobies + cameos from more or less everyone in the 'verse.
Main Ships: Spike/Buffy, Angel/Nina
Feedback: Is bloody ambrosia! (The secret ingredient is otter...)
Word count (this chapter): 5200 words
Setting and Summary: As before. (Post-NFA epic quest thing.)
Beta: The ever wonderful![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathyh
Chapter 24
January 2006
It was as close to a real war council as was possible in the circumstances.
Buffy, Giles, Andrew and Willow were waiting for Angel as he and Illyria arrived, the Council’s large oak-panelled meeting room and long table dwarfing them. For the briefest moment he flashed back to the last time he’d been in an official gathering like this — the meeting with The Circle of the Black Thorn. That had been ten years ago, Illyria had informed him. (Ten years? He’d lost track completely somewhere after three, so he couldn’t say if she was exaggerating or not.) It all seemed strange and civilised, this genteel get together to discuss strategy — not that they hadn’t spent more than enough time negotiating on their travels, but he couldn’t end this discussion with a well-timed beheading if it didn’t go his way. No, he had to remember his year of being the CEO of an evil law firm in order to stick to the script… Which (if he was honest) tickled his sense of irony.
Andrew, much to Angel’s surprise, no longer looked like a human spaniel, but instead sported a nice new haircut and was dressed in a rather fetching brown pinstripe suit, with a matching brown patterned tie. The change of clothing seemed to signal a change in attitude as well, since there was none of the previous fawning and the young man merely nodded a hello before taking a seat, pen poised over a brand new notebook.
Willow looked… quiet. She gave him a swift, almost shy smile, but didn’t say anything, instead focussing on her new ‘pet’. Buffy had given him a quick run-through of Willow’s story and under different circumstances Angel might have been intrigued, but he didn’t think it could help their current situation.
Giles greeted him politely, shaking his hand and welcoming him to the Council (again), saying how pleased he was that their previous research had obviously yielded results. Angel had to remind himself that for Giles, it had only been about a year and a half since they’d met…
“Where’s Spike?” he asked, and Buffy hesitated momentarily.
“He’s resting. He seemed to need it. Emotional… upheaval and all that.”
“Right,” Angel said, taking a seat and studying the faces around him, knowing that Illyria would be standing slightly behind him. Watching, assessing. She had — after her initial scepticism — been keen to attend the big pow wow, without revealing why. Although it might have been the fact that he had mentioned the new hell beast.
Whatever the reason, he was grateful. He wanted to do this properly. When he’d taken down The Circle of the Black Thorn he hadn’t had any contingency plans, and he didn’t want a similar fallout this time round. Could do without reading another few thousand obituaries. (Not that he had any expectation of surviving, but the fewer casualties, the better.)
“Look, we want to help with this apocalypse of yours,” Buffy began, but Angel shook his head.
“It’s not an apocalypse. Well… It is and it isn’t. No big armies, no hell mouths. It’s what’s ticking along underneath, all day every day, the world going to hell without anyone noticing. Nothing flashy, just man’s inhumanity towards man. Helped by Wolfram and Hart. We want to stop them.”
“Fine,” Buffy replied. “My point is this Key of yours. Apparently - whoever uses it… Something bad happens.”
“That’s an understatement,” Willow said drily, and Angel found himself struck by the tone of her voice, turning to her and studying her more carefully than he had so far. There was something behind her words that he couldn’t put his finger on, almost as if she took it personally.
“What do you know?”
“Not anything more than you, but I… we…”
She filled everyone in on what had happened, having somehow shared a similar vision to the one Dru had experienced, and Angel listening silently as he studied the miniature monstrosity that was nibbling from a plate of raw meat in front of Willow. It had fared better than any other creature that had tried to defeat Buffy, which was impressive in itself.
“So,” Buffy concluded, “We need to find a way to stop it, or to save Spike, or to-”
“Hang on,” Angel said slowly. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not letting him get sucked into hell, that’s what I mean.”
A long pause as they watched each other; Giles, Willow and Andrew keeping quiet, for which Angel was grateful. Not that Buffy needed back-up, she was plenty forceful on her own. Then Angel slowly shook his head.
“You sent me to hell, to save the world.” As he saw her prepare to shoot back, he added: “Although that’s beside the point. This? Isn’t your call.”
“It’s not yours either. Or yours.”
She aimed the last words at Illyria, then continued talking to Angel. “You have this whole mission thing going on, your personal vendettas, and I get that, but-”
“But what?” he interrupted. “We should just agree to ignore this one? Throw away ten years’ worth of travelling and fighting to piece together an impossible key? There is a prophecy, remember, he might even become a real boy by the end of it!”
She eyed him levelly.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
He was so tired. So very very exhausted. Grief wearing him down, but he couldn’t show it… And he understood her, knew why she was digging her heels in. Big shiny happy future, the possibility of something impossible; and to see it snatched away wasn’t just painful, it was like a deliberate, malicious attack. Remembered the one golden day when he’d been human… But dreams and harsh reality were sadly ‘unmixy things’ as she’d probably have put it when she was sixteen.
He could still see the sixteen-year-old girl in the woman across the table; the passion, the determination to win. And knew he was doomed to be an obstacle. Still remembered how she’d looked at him that night in Rome, the disbelief at what he’d become (what he’d always been, even if he had tried to fight for a better self).
But he had stopped believing in miracles so very long ago; could pinpoint the exact point in time — the moment when he’d cut his son’s throat in order to save him.
“I’m not. And not just because I signed it away. It’s because I know how these things work-”
“And I don’t? Angel, we can be smart about this. Try to find out as much as we can-”
“How?” he asked, letting his frustration shine through. This was not why he’d come. “We have literally spent months trying to find out anything more about how this thing is supposed to work, in places older than anything this world can offer, and nothing. I would much prefer not to go in blind, but we don’t have a choice. And we don’t have any more time.”
Buffy’s stubbornness was now almost like a physical thing, as she folded her arms.
“What, you don’t have time to discuss this any further, you need to go to three hundred more dimensions-”
“No. The Key is complete. We’re going now. This is it.”
***
He watched from the doorway, having managed to sneak in unseen — vampire stealth a handy addition to their heated dialogue.
He’d almost given himself away when Angel had said the Key was complete, instead gripping the doorframe so tightly he had been in danger of causing it to splinter. The sudden rush of emotions at first almost choked him, but undeniably the overwhelming feeling was one of relief. No more waiting, no more endless travels. Whatever came next — eternal pain or shiny prophecy — it’d be soon.
Listening for a few moments more, he eventually decided to join in — especially as things were clearly coming to a head. Sauntering in, swagger in every step and a smirk on his face, he looked around at the small assembly:
“Right, so, considering that I’m the one to do the bloody job, may I have a word?”
They all turned to him, Buffy’s eyes widening.
“Spike-”
“Listen pet, you can twist it any way you like, but I’m the Frodo in this scenario, off to throw the thingamabob into the volcano, with…” he hesitated, eyes trailing over his fellow travellers, “Aragorn and Gandalf.”
Surprising them all Illyria cut in, clearly offended:
“I am no wizard. I am akin to Ilúvatar — or possibly one of the Valar; a creator, not a servant doing magic tricks.”
Silence reigned over the table as they all stared at her, flummoxed, and even Spike was trying to work out where this had come from.
Feeling benevolent enough to enlighten them, she added:
“I like The Silmarillion.”
At this Andrew breathed a soft “Oh, my god,” and Illyria did one of her rare smiles.
“A follower? Here? This day is unexpected.”
Spike shook his head.
“Bring it up at the book club, yeah Blue? Right now, would someone mind telling me how the Key is suddenly complete? Not complaining, just curious.”
“It seems Dru had the final piece,” Angel said quietly, and Spike took a sharp breath.
No wonder she had laughed.
Then he saw Angel straighten up, and knew exactly what was coming.
“Look, the reason I came wasn’t to argue whether or not we are doing this thing. We are going, that’s not up for discussion. The point is — what happens if we are successful?”
Buffy opened her mouth, but Angel cut her off.
“No, not whether Spike goes to hell or whether he gets a heartbeat. If we do this, all of Wolfram & Hart’s strings will be cut. There will be a power vacuum.”
Giles, who had been silent until now, leaned forwards.
“And you are suggesting we fill it?”
“Maybe not fill it. But you could police it. Make sure that all the lowlives that are going to surge forwards, all the battles that have been laid on ice because of Wolfram & Hart’s contracts which might now re-ignite, are aware that if they start up, the Slayers will be ready to keep them in line.”
“Hm…”
Giles shot Buffy a long look, and she nodded, almost imperceptibly, but it was Giles who responded.
“We’ve been thinking along these lines recently. It’ll be chaos.”
“But surely the Council is used to pulling strings?” Angel asked, still every inch the CEO. Spike recognised this, the way the other forced down all emotion in order to focus on the task at hand. Him and Buffy, too similar by half. Which led to a whole host of uncomfortable associations, so he expertly ignored them.
“Illyria helped you with your computer troubles… last summer? She said you operate on a global scale, rapid response teams all over the world. I don’t think this is beyond you.”
Spike found it hard to hide a smile. The old fella was good at this.
“I may have given the wrong impression,” Giles said with as much patience as he could muster. “We have already been looking into how they operate, trying to anticipate the largest fault lines and fallouts if you should pull this thing off.”
Angel shot Spike a surprised look, then focussed on Giles again.
“How?”
Again that quick glance at Buffy, and Spike wondered what they were up to. Not that he particularly cared — he trusted them to be smart. If they had a plan for controlling the fallout, that was great. All he was bothered about right now was his own part.
“It’s somewhat confidential I’m afraid,” Giles replied, and then Illyria surprised them all for the second time.
“I can help,” she stated, and slowly everyone turned to look at her.
“If this is another offer of hell armies…” Angel eventually said, clearly trying to find a way not to offend her, but Illyria merely glared at him.
“My army is… virtual. It lives in stealth, but my followers have multiplied, gaining in power and influence.”
“Hang on,” Buffy said, “Do you mean that thing when you fixed all the computers?”
Illyria inclined her head.
“Indeed. I offered you but a small glimpse into what I could do.”
“I don’t understand,” Willow said, and Illyria almost rolled her eyes.
“You may know me better as ‘Coco the Divine’.”
At this, Andrew literally slammed his hand on the table, making them all jump.
“You are kidding! You are Coco?”
He was looking at Illyria as if she had just revealed herself to be a magical unicorn.
“You doubt me?”
“No but, but- guys I have tried to tell you this, but you never listen. Coco came out of nowhere about a year ago, and just… It’s like - like… this secret society? She only takes the best. Sorta like the Freemasons or, or - no that sounds all wrong, it’s…”
Illyria cut in.
“I searched for my worshippers. Bade them teach me how to interact in this new world. Then reached out, finding more. Learned how to wield power with a machine and words. Tell me… Andrew, are you one of mine?”
He swallowed nervously, glancing round the table, before firmly nodding.
“I am.”
“Christ almighty Andrew!” Giles exploded. “And how long have you been going behind our back?”
“It’s not going behind your back! I just got a chance to be part of the biggest network there is! I didn’t know it was her, but anyway she’s not evil and I can help more now, see? And, and, I’m only one out of however many thousand, not like Willow who mind-merged with an actual hell beast!”
“Hey!” Willow shot back. “That was uncalled for. ”
Spike had met Angel’s eyes, silently. So this was what she’d been up to. It didn’t surprise them - if anything it was surprisingly low key and stealthy. It was… sneaky.
Sighing, Angel shrugged at Spike and turned to Illyria, voice too light by half.
“So, you are offering your services to the Council? That’s very noble of you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, so deadpan that Spike almost blinked in confusion. Was it a joke? Or was it an attempt at a joke, in order to cover up her actual plans? What were her plans? Had she aided them, only to help herself step into the power vacuum, under cover of the Council?
“Willow,” Giles then said, having gotten himself under control. “Could you take Andrew and Illyria somewhere with a computer and look into what… any of it means?”
Willow opened her mouth, stopped, then nodded.
“Okay.” Scooping up Talnor, she did her best ‘Friendly-Willow-smile’ as she studied Illyria.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, your highness-”
Talnor growled, and Willow stopped, then nodded slowly.
“Although maybe you and Talnor need a little catch-up session first. It’s… not sure about you.”
They left the room, Andrew rushing to open the door for ‘her highness’, and Angel looked to Giles.
“Nicely done. Get your tame hell beast to sound out the hell god.”
Giles did a little self-deprecating smile.
“That’s the idea. Let’s hope it doesn’t blow up in their faces. So, Wolfram & Hart - what can you tell us?”
***
Willow felt at an odd remove.
Talnor and Illyria had sized each other up much like two cats, watching and almost circling, until Illyria eventually reached out a leather-covered hand and touched the middle of Talnor’s heads, the two of them performing some kind of silent internal battle; Willow felt it, but stayed out of the fray. Eventually they came to an understanding, as their aims didn’t overlap or infringe on each other, and Willow drew a quiet sigh of relief. A battle would have been… unfortunate.
But then Illyria’s eyes snapped up, fixing Willow with their bright blue intensity and not letting go.
“You see me,” she said; a statement, not a question, and Willow nodded, suddenly swallowing.
“Yes. Yes I see you.”
She’d helped to transfer Dawn’s key-ness to Illyria some years ago, so had gotten a glimpse of what lay behind the impassive surface of Illyria’s shell, but through Talnor she could see Illyria’s true form. How she strained against the confines of her tiny world, like an all-powerful genie trapped in a lamp. And more than that, she understood how Illyria felt — the ache for a lost world, the loneliness of living amongst humans who could never understand what she could see, the depth and breath of reality that unfolded all around them, and that none of them even knew existed…
Willow didn’t need to speak any of it out loud. Illyria knew. And Willow didn’t know what to do with the fact of a hell god suddenly being someone she could relate to, possibly even sympathise with.
Thankfully it wasn’t up to her to interrogate Illyria as Andrew did most of the talking, excitedly fawning over ‘his’ Old One and exclaiming about how amazing she was. Willow thought drily that he didn’t know the half of it.
“How did you even learn all this?” Andrew asked, eyes widening as Illyria showed what she had been up to. Willow found herself curious as to the answer — ancient demons were as a rule not good with technology, especially not ones who had been asleep for untold aeons, having woken in the modern world only a few years previously.
And this was not working out how to use a mobile phone — it was in-depth coding, managing a vast online network of sources and followers and assets. Illyria looked almost pitying as she studied her newest acolyte.
“I am a god, inhabiting the body of a genius. I quickly discovered that sneakiness is the way of this world, and if I were to affect it, I would have to learn.” She stopped, tilting her head. “In hindsight I did not give my Qwa'ha Xahn enough credit for his choice of vessel.”
“You are… amazing,” Andrew said, literally awestruck, and Willow decided to ignore him in favour of focussing on what Illyria was actually showing them on the computer.
According to Illyria, she had reached out to her remaining followers, and from that built a whole network, recruiting from people like… Andrew. Smart, tech-savvy, but often on the outside; in love with magical narratives and stories, looking for meaning and belonging. Many had already dabbled in the occult — much like The Trio, back in the day — but Illyria had taken all that energy and obsessiveness, usually wasted on conspiracy theories or sci-fi shows or gaming or any of the thousand of other ways which gifted people found to squander their free time and money on, and focussed it, using the lure of insider information and access to a wider network for those who committed more deeply. It almost ran itself, people recruiting friends or acquaintances, a web constantly expanding, like a fractal.
“How… how did you even think of this?” Willow asked, horrified and impressed in equal measures.
“I am a God. I know how to make people worship me,” Illyria replied, with unmistakable smugness. “And studying your world, I saw how humans wish for belonging above all else — they must all have a tribe; a political party or football team or righteous cause to support. What I have done is nothing different from the Freemasons, as Andrew noted. Being on the inside, knowing you are on the winning side, that you and your fellow disciples are on the right path, together — this is what humanity is made of. I went into this world-” she waved at the computer, “-and found lost souls, crying out for guidance and surety in a world that is falling apart.”
Her head turned, large blue eyes once more watching Willow with unnerving intensity.
“I can give them something real, something pure. All the gods left this realm too long ago, it is ripe to be plucked. I am merely giving them what they crave, what they… deserve.”
Willow wasn’t quite sure how to respond. You couldn’t tell an actual god that they were a megalomaniac… Especially not when you needed their help. Or possibly had to try to stop them. (Especially not when you had almost brought about an apocalypse yourself. Twice.)
“Also, she has the best BitTorrent, and her spoiler feed is unrivalled,” Andrew added.
“Right,” Willow said, wondering if it really was possible to stop a techno-savvy god. This was a million miles from TV evangelists.
***
Later
Buffy and Spike had gone off somewhere to say goodbye, and Illyria had taken Angel to see Nina and Connor.
Closing the door, Giles turned to Willow, pointedly ignoring Andrew.
“So. What can you tell me?”
As Willow laid out what Illyria had told them, Giles leaned forwards, resting his chin on his hands. It had been a long day already, and this wasn’t helping. An unpredictable hell god who was busy setting up a dedicated online following was something he could have done without on several levels.
“So she can help?” he eventually asked, and Willow nodded.
“Yup. Willing and able. And…” she hesitated. “She could be extremely useful. We have a physical presence of course because of all the Slayers, and the Council still have contacts everywhere, but this is… current. And online. An untapped source. Well, she’s tapped it… These people could monitor so many things - hacking and tracking and disabling, all the stuff that goes on behind the scenes, the stuff that isn’t strictly magical, just business.”
He sat for a long moment, prevaricating, weighing it all up in his head.
“Why did she tell us? She must know that if she tries anything, we will take her out?”
Willow hesitated for a long moment.
“She… doesn’t think in those terms.”
“What do you mean?” Giles asked — maybe a bit to quickly, but he hadn’t missed the way Willow had reached out for Talnor, and couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it somehow.
“She is a god,” Willow replied thoughtfully. “She is just… trying to fulfil her purpose, which is to be worshipped.”
Glancing at Andrew, Giles felt compelled to let his sarcasm shine through.
“Well that sounds harmless enough.”
“How to explain it…” Willow mused, then carefully continued. Giles wondered if the happy spontaneity would ever return, the ‘new’ Willow was very different from the one they’d lost.
“Like — she’s not interested in chaos,” Willow began. “If she wanted chaos, she could have brought through her hell armies from that other dimension. But she’s too smart for that. She has spent a good while just studying and learning — partly because she didn’t have a choice, but she’s taken on board how important it is to master the tools of this world… I’d say she wants to help us keep things ticking over, stopping things from falling apart if they manage to pull this Key thing off, and then…”
She spread her hands.
“I don’t know. Maybe she wants to slowly take over. From below, bit like what Wolfram & Hart did? It’s not… malicious in the sense humans would see it, she genuinely believes that the world will be better off as her subjects. Whatever that entails.”
He sighed, having noted how Willow constantly referred to ‘humans’ as if she was no longer part of the species. It worried him, and he was still wondering how to tackle it. Presuming he could…
“Charming. Well, I guess we don’t have any options at the moment except working with her. Especially given her little spy on the inside…”
Glancing at Andrew, he saw the young man’s face harden in anger as Andrew began speaking, voice harsh and without a shred of his usual buoyancy:
“Unbelievable,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “How long have I been working with you? And still you think I’ll go off following anything new that turns up, like some kind of pathetic magpie, enchanted by shiny things. As if I didn’t pay a price already for falling for the lies The First fed me — why do you think I would ever be that stupid again?”
Giles found himself a little taken aback.
“Well, you said you were a follower…”
“Of her spoiler feed, and a chat forum on movie releases, which had all the best BNFs-”
As Giles felt his mind blanking out, Willow whispered: “Big Name Fans.”
He nodded, although the words didn’t mean anything.
“-And so, I figured it might be useful for me to pretend to be on her side? If she thinks I’m a loyal follower, she might tell me more than she’d tell the rest of you. I’m undercover, and you just- You just think I’m still the same guy who killed his best friend-”
He broke off, emotional, and Giles struggled to give voice to both his relief and also to formulate some kind of apology.
“Andrew. I am sorry if we judged you too swiftly. You just seemed very… eager…”
“I am quite a good actor,” he retorted stiffly. “And if you will excuse me, I now need to read up on all her mythology so I can get even better at pretending to love her. At least I have a date tonight.”
He stood, obviously intending to sweep from the room, but Willow reached out and grasped hold of his sleeve.
“A date?”
Andrew looked both pleased and secretive, whilst cramming as much disdain into his voice as humanly possible:
“Yes, a date. Did you think I wore my brand new cosplay suit for the sake of this meeting?”
Willow shook her head.
“No, but — with whom?”
He sniffed.
“You won’t know him. His name is Richard and he works at Forbidden Planet. Now, please excuse me.”
And he continued his interrupted sweeping out, as Giles and Willow could only stare after him.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Giles eventually said, and Willow almost laughed.
“Aw, he’s growing up. It’s so cute.”
Taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, Giles eventually looked up. He was terribly pleased to see her interacting with something other than Talnor, and when he spoke his voice was infused with quiet humour:
“Well it’s nice that at least one person in this place seems to manage to get the famous work/life balance right...”
But Willow didn’t take the bait, instead her face return to a more sombre look, and she let her hand glide over Talnor’s back.
“Look, Giles… I realise that I’m still not 100%, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But there seems to be a component missing in all the issues we have discussed. Wolfram & Hart are a law firm. Shouldn’t we be looking at… lawyer-y things?”
He found it impossible to hide a smile. Too smart by half, as always. He’d missed her immensely, and was grateful that — all the changes aside — Willow still seemed to be in there somewhere.
“We… have found something for that, don’t worry.”
***
It was raining.
Buffy stood by a window, looking out over a grey, cold, wintry London, unsure what to do. This was the big moment — there should be a teary, romantic goodbye, but she was angry and upset and wasn’t sure how to reconcile her conflicted emotions with the fact that he might go off to get himself killed saving the world (again).
Spike didn’t speak; just watched her silently, which was almost worse.
They should go to her room, should… something. Instead they were in a dull corridor, the occasional Slayer or Watcher appearing, studying them with curiosity, and then pretending to go somewhere else.
Except for old Roger Wyndam-Pryce who of course had to go have a quick word with Spike.
She glared, but didn’t intervene. Wasn’t quite sure she trusted herself.
Illyria had opened up a portal for Angel to California and left with him, leaving Spike to yell after her ineffectually. Buffy didn’t know what he was going to ask her to do (maybe take them to the Hyperion?), and didn’t particularly care. It’d just be a different set of corridors. It was all too much — Dru, the Key, the leaving. She wanted to put a pause on everything.
She missed Willow; Willow who was right there of course, and who might one day be back to her old self, but for the moment was distant and other and not good for Buffy unburdening herself.
Missed Xander, who was happily preoccupied with his new girlfriend and generally busy flitting around the world, Mr Surprisingly Competent and Capable.
She observed Dawn from a distance, her happy university life and hap-hazard dating, and tried to remember if she had ever been that carefree herself.
They’d all spent Christmas in the Council, and it had almost — almost — been like old times.
She sighed — she missed Sunnydale, missed knowing every street and every stone, even missed the Hellmouth. The apocalypse had kept her so busy that she’d hardly noticed how lonely she had become… There had been a mantra in her head, a certainty that when Spike came back everything would be OK. Because it had to be. Because he was the one who always came back…
And now, here she was, about to lose her (second) vampire lover for the second time. What sort of ridiculous trick was life playing on her?
She had felt the narrative slipping away, but resolutely called for a big meeting; they had resources and power and smarts and were goddamn experts at subverting prophecies and ancient evils. She hadn’t been surprised at Angel being an obstacle, that was sort of par for the course. But Spike…
Spike was hers. Spike was the guy who was always, always, in her corner.
Obviously Dru and the whole vision thing had shaken him, but he’d waltzed into the meeting like nothing was amiss, and she had almost wilted in relief — except he had then proceeded to be Angel’s smart-arse-y loyal little sidekick-slash-Mini Me, hellbent on throwing himself on the proverbial sword.
She’d wanted to reach across the table, shaking him: ‘Do you want to die? Did you develop a death-wish on all your travels? Don’t you care about me? How dare you talk about dying like it’s nothing, like you aren’t leaving me again.’
Her face hardened, watching the raindrops running down the window. Why wouldn’t he fight for a solution? Why was he taking Angel’s side? Why was he suddenly more difficult to talk to than Willow, lost in the mind of an ancient creature? (Willow who would probably do pretty much anything to stay with Talnor. Why would Spike not even entertain the notion−)
Except then Illyria re-appeared, interrupting her maudlin musings, and Spike’s head snapped up.
“Right so, here goes. I was saving this up for later, but since there may not be a later… Come on love.”
Grabbing her hand, Buffy followed through sheer surprise.
“Now then Blue, one last trip-”
He leaned forwards, whispering something in Illyria’s ear. Her reaction was hard to gauge at first, but then a hard, dangerous look came over her face and she raised her arm, a portal unwinding and widening from her fingertips.
“What is it?” Buffy asked, both intrigued and alarmed.
Spike pursed his lips speculatively.
“Early birthday present?”
Chapter 25 on LJ
Chapter 25 on DW
Can also be found on AO3.
(Despite AO3 - where I have many lovely readers - I do miss what LJ used to be like back in the day. Not that I was ever a BNF with a million followers and three hundred comments on every fic, but people read, and people talked. I realise it's my own fault for writing this fic ten years late, but I still miss it. I swear this is probably my most carefully plotted and written story, and my audience is mostly silent.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Teen. (Same warnings as the show basically.)
Characters: Spike, Angel, Illyria, Buffy, Scoobies + cameos from more or less everyone in the 'verse.
Main Ships: Spike/Buffy, Angel/Nina
Feedback: Is bloody ambrosia! (The secret ingredient is otter...)
Word count (this chapter): 5200 words
Setting and Summary: As before. (Post-NFA epic quest thing.)
Beta: The ever wonderful
kathyhJanuary 2006
It was as close to a real war council as was possible in the circumstances.
Buffy, Giles, Andrew and Willow were waiting for Angel as he and Illyria arrived, the Council’s large oak-panelled meeting room and long table dwarfing them. For the briefest moment he flashed back to the last time he’d been in an official gathering like this — the meeting with The Circle of the Black Thorn. That had been ten years ago, Illyria had informed him. (Ten years? He’d lost track completely somewhere after three, so he couldn’t say if she was exaggerating or not.) It all seemed strange and civilised, this genteel get together to discuss strategy — not that they hadn’t spent more than enough time negotiating on their travels, but he couldn’t end this discussion with a well-timed beheading if it didn’t go his way. No, he had to remember his year of being the CEO of an evil law firm in order to stick to the script… Which (if he was honest) tickled his sense of irony.
Andrew, much to Angel’s surprise, no longer looked like a human spaniel, but instead sported a nice new haircut and was dressed in a rather fetching brown pinstripe suit, with a matching brown patterned tie. The change of clothing seemed to signal a change in attitude as well, since there was none of the previous fawning and the young man merely nodded a hello before taking a seat, pen poised over a brand new notebook.
Willow looked… quiet. She gave him a swift, almost shy smile, but didn’t say anything, instead focussing on her new ‘pet’. Buffy had given him a quick run-through of Willow’s story and under different circumstances Angel might have been intrigued, but he didn’t think it could help their current situation.
Giles greeted him politely, shaking his hand and welcoming him to the Council (again), saying how pleased he was that their previous research had obviously yielded results. Angel had to remind himself that for Giles, it had only been about a year and a half since they’d met…
“Where’s Spike?” he asked, and Buffy hesitated momentarily.
“He’s resting. He seemed to need it. Emotional… upheaval and all that.”
“Right,” Angel said, taking a seat and studying the faces around him, knowing that Illyria would be standing slightly behind him. Watching, assessing. She had — after her initial scepticism — been keen to attend the big pow wow, without revealing why. Although it might have been the fact that he had mentioned the new hell beast.
Whatever the reason, he was grateful. He wanted to do this properly. When he’d taken down The Circle of the Black Thorn he hadn’t had any contingency plans, and he didn’t want a similar fallout this time round. Could do without reading another few thousand obituaries. (Not that he had any expectation of surviving, but the fewer casualties, the better.)
“Look, we want to help with this apocalypse of yours,” Buffy began, but Angel shook his head.
“It’s not an apocalypse. Well… It is and it isn’t. No big armies, no hell mouths. It’s what’s ticking along underneath, all day every day, the world going to hell without anyone noticing. Nothing flashy, just man’s inhumanity towards man. Helped by Wolfram and Hart. We want to stop them.”
“Fine,” Buffy replied. “My point is this Key of yours. Apparently - whoever uses it… Something bad happens.”
“That’s an understatement,” Willow said drily, and Angel found himself struck by the tone of her voice, turning to her and studying her more carefully than he had so far. There was something behind her words that he couldn’t put his finger on, almost as if she took it personally.
“What do you know?”
“Not anything more than you, but I… we…”
She filled everyone in on what had happened, having somehow shared a similar vision to the one Dru had experienced, and Angel listening silently as he studied the miniature monstrosity that was nibbling from a plate of raw meat in front of Willow. It had fared better than any other creature that had tried to defeat Buffy, which was impressive in itself.
“So,” Buffy concluded, “We need to find a way to stop it, or to save Spike, or to-”
“Hang on,” Angel said slowly. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not letting him get sucked into hell, that’s what I mean.”
A long pause as they watched each other; Giles, Willow and Andrew keeping quiet, for which Angel was grateful. Not that Buffy needed back-up, she was plenty forceful on her own. Then Angel slowly shook his head.
“You sent me to hell, to save the world.” As he saw her prepare to shoot back, he added: “Although that’s beside the point. This? Isn’t your call.”
“It’s not yours either. Or yours.”
She aimed the last words at Illyria, then continued talking to Angel. “You have this whole mission thing going on, your personal vendettas, and I get that, but-”
“But what?” he interrupted. “We should just agree to ignore this one? Throw away ten years’ worth of travelling and fighting to piece together an impossible key? There is a prophecy, remember, he might even become a real boy by the end of it!”
She eyed him levelly.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
He was so tired. So very very exhausted. Grief wearing him down, but he couldn’t show it… And he understood her, knew why she was digging her heels in. Big shiny happy future, the possibility of something impossible; and to see it snatched away wasn’t just painful, it was like a deliberate, malicious attack. Remembered the one golden day when he’d been human… But dreams and harsh reality were sadly ‘unmixy things’ as she’d probably have put it when she was sixteen.
He could still see the sixteen-year-old girl in the woman across the table; the passion, the determination to win. And knew he was doomed to be an obstacle. Still remembered how she’d looked at him that night in Rome, the disbelief at what he’d become (what he’d always been, even if he had tried to fight for a better self).
But he had stopped believing in miracles so very long ago; could pinpoint the exact point in time — the moment when he’d cut his son’s throat in order to save him.
“I’m not. And not just because I signed it away. It’s because I know how these things work-”
“And I don’t? Angel, we can be smart about this. Try to find out as much as we can-”
“How?” he asked, letting his frustration shine through. This was not why he’d come. “We have literally spent months trying to find out anything more about how this thing is supposed to work, in places older than anything this world can offer, and nothing. I would much prefer not to go in blind, but we don’t have a choice. And we don’t have any more time.”
Buffy’s stubbornness was now almost like a physical thing, as she folded her arms.
“What, you don’t have time to discuss this any further, you need to go to three hundred more dimensions-”
“No. The Key is complete. We’re going now. This is it.”
He watched from the doorway, having managed to sneak in unseen — vampire stealth a handy addition to their heated dialogue.
He’d almost given himself away when Angel had said the Key was complete, instead gripping the doorframe so tightly he had been in danger of causing it to splinter. The sudden rush of emotions at first almost choked him, but undeniably the overwhelming feeling was one of relief. No more waiting, no more endless travels. Whatever came next — eternal pain or shiny prophecy — it’d be soon.
Listening for a few moments more, he eventually decided to join in — especially as things were clearly coming to a head. Sauntering in, swagger in every step and a smirk on his face, he looked around at the small assembly:
“Right, so, considering that I’m the one to do the bloody job, may I have a word?”
They all turned to him, Buffy’s eyes widening.
“Spike-”
“Listen pet, you can twist it any way you like, but I’m the Frodo in this scenario, off to throw the thingamabob into the volcano, with…” he hesitated, eyes trailing over his fellow travellers, “Aragorn and Gandalf.”
Surprising them all Illyria cut in, clearly offended:
“I am no wizard. I am akin to Ilúvatar — or possibly one of the Valar; a creator, not a servant doing magic tricks.”
Silence reigned over the table as they all stared at her, flummoxed, and even Spike was trying to work out where this had come from.
Feeling benevolent enough to enlighten them, she added:
“I like The Silmarillion.”
At this Andrew breathed a soft “Oh, my god,” and Illyria did one of her rare smiles.
“A follower? Here? This day is unexpected.”
Spike shook his head.
“Bring it up at the book club, yeah Blue? Right now, would someone mind telling me how the Key is suddenly complete? Not complaining, just curious.”
“It seems Dru had the final piece,” Angel said quietly, and Spike took a sharp breath.
No wonder she had laughed.
Then he saw Angel straighten up, and knew exactly what was coming.
“Look, the reason I came wasn’t to argue whether or not we are doing this thing. We are going, that’s not up for discussion. The point is — what happens if we are successful?”
Buffy opened her mouth, but Angel cut her off.
“No, not whether Spike goes to hell or whether he gets a heartbeat. If we do this, all of Wolfram & Hart’s strings will be cut. There will be a power vacuum.”
Giles, who had been silent until now, leaned forwards.
“And you are suggesting we fill it?”
“Maybe not fill it. But you could police it. Make sure that all the lowlives that are going to surge forwards, all the battles that have been laid on ice because of Wolfram & Hart’s contracts which might now re-ignite, are aware that if they start up, the Slayers will be ready to keep them in line.”
“Hm…”
Giles shot Buffy a long look, and she nodded, almost imperceptibly, but it was Giles who responded.
“We’ve been thinking along these lines recently. It’ll be chaos.”
“But surely the Council is used to pulling strings?” Angel asked, still every inch the CEO. Spike recognised this, the way the other forced down all emotion in order to focus on the task at hand. Him and Buffy, too similar by half. Which led to a whole host of uncomfortable associations, so he expertly ignored them.
“Illyria helped you with your computer troubles… last summer? She said you operate on a global scale, rapid response teams all over the world. I don’t think this is beyond you.”
Spike found it hard to hide a smile. The old fella was good at this.
“I may have given the wrong impression,” Giles said with as much patience as he could muster. “We have already been looking into how they operate, trying to anticipate the largest fault lines and fallouts if you should pull this thing off.”
Angel shot Spike a surprised look, then focussed on Giles again.
“How?”
Again that quick glance at Buffy, and Spike wondered what they were up to. Not that he particularly cared — he trusted them to be smart. If they had a plan for controlling the fallout, that was great. All he was bothered about right now was his own part.
“It’s somewhat confidential I’m afraid,” Giles replied, and then Illyria surprised them all for the second time.
“I can help,” she stated, and slowly everyone turned to look at her.
“If this is another offer of hell armies…” Angel eventually said, clearly trying to find a way not to offend her, but Illyria merely glared at him.
“My army is… virtual. It lives in stealth, but my followers have multiplied, gaining in power and influence.”
“Hang on,” Buffy said, “Do you mean that thing when you fixed all the computers?”
Illyria inclined her head.
“Indeed. I offered you but a small glimpse into what I could do.”
“I don’t understand,” Willow said, and Illyria almost rolled her eyes.
“You may know me better as ‘Coco the Divine’.”
At this, Andrew literally slammed his hand on the table, making them all jump.
“You are kidding! You are Coco?”
He was looking at Illyria as if she had just revealed herself to be a magical unicorn.
“You doubt me?”
“No but, but- guys I have tried to tell you this, but you never listen. Coco came out of nowhere about a year ago, and just… It’s like - like… this secret society? She only takes the best. Sorta like the Freemasons or, or - no that sounds all wrong, it’s…”
Illyria cut in.
“I searched for my worshippers. Bade them teach me how to interact in this new world. Then reached out, finding more. Learned how to wield power with a machine and words. Tell me… Andrew, are you one of mine?”
He swallowed nervously, glancing round the table, before firmly nodding.
“I am.”
“Christ almighty Andrew!” Giles exploded. “And how long have you been going behind our back?”
“It’s not going behind your back! I just got a chance to be part of the biggest network there is! I didn’t know it was her, but anyway she’s not evil and I can help more now, see? And, and, I’m only one out of however many thousand, not like Willow who mind-merged with an actual hell beast!”
“Hey!” Willow shot back. “That was uncalled for. ”
Spike had met Angel’s eyes, silently. So this was what she’d been up to. It didn’t surprise them - if anything it was surprisingly low key and stealthy. It was… sneaky.
Sighing, Angel shrugged at Spike and turned to Illyria, voice too light by half.
“So, you are offering your services to the Council? That’s very noble of you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied, so deadpan that Spike almost blinked in confusion. Was it a joke? Or was it an attempt at a joke, in order to cover up her actual plans? What were her plans? Had she aided them, only to help herself step into the power vacuum, under cover of the Council?
“Willow,” Giles then said, having gotten himself under control. “Could you take Andrew and Illyria somewhere with a computer and look into what… any of it means?”
Willow opened her mouth, stopped, then nodded.
“Okay.” Scooping up Talnor, she did her best ‘Friendly-Willow-smile’ as she studied Illyria.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, your highness-”
Talnor growled, and Willow stopped, then nodded slowly.
“Although maybe you and Talnor need a little catch-up session first. It’s… not sure about you.”
They left the room, Andrew rushing to open the door for ‘her highness’, and Angel looked to Giles.
“Nicely done. Get your tame hell beast to sound out the hell god.”
Giles did a little self-deprecating smile.
“That’s the idea. Let’s hope it doesn’t blow up in their faces. So, Wolfram & Hart - what can you tell us?”
Willow felt at an odd remove.
Talnor and Illyria had sized each other up much like two cats, watching and almost circling, until Illyria eventually reached out a leather-covered hand and touched the middle of Talnor’s heads, the two of them performing some kind of silent internal battle; Willow felt it, but stayed out of the fray. Eventually they came to an understanding, as their aims didn’t overlap or infringe on each other, and Willow drew a quiet sigh of relief. A battle would have been… unfortunate.
But then Illyria’s eyes snapped up, fixing Willow with their bright blue intensity and not letting go.
“You see me,” she said; a statement, not a question, and Willow nodded, suddenly swallowing.
“Yes. Yes I see you.”
She’d helped to transfer Dawn’s key-ness to Illyria some years ago, so had gotten a glimpse of what lay behind the impassive surface of Illyria’s shell, but through Talnor she could see Illyria’s true form. How she strained against the confines of her tiny world, like an all-powerful genie trapped in a lamp. And more than that, she understood how Illyria felt — the ache for a lost world, the loneliness of living amongst humans who could never understand what she could see, the depth and breath of reality that unfolded all around them, and that none of them even knew existed…
Willow didn’t need to speak any of it out loud. Illyria knew. And Willow didn’t know what to do with the fact of a hell god suddenly being someone she could relate to, possibly even sympathise with.
Thankfully it wasn’t up to her to interrogate Illyria as Andrew did most of the talking, excitedly fawning over ‘his’ Old One and exclaiming about how amazing she was. Willow thought drily that he didn’t know the half of it.
“How did you even learn all this?” Andrew asked, eyes widening as Illyria showed what she had been up to. Willow found herself curious as to the answer — ancient demons were as a rule not good with technology, especially not ones who had been asleep for untold aeons, having woken in the modern world only a few years previously.
And this was not working out how to use a mobile phone — it was in-depth coding, managing a vast online network of sources and followers and assets. Illyria looked almost pitying as she studied her newest acolyte.
“I am a god, inhabiting the body of a genius. I quickly discovered that sneakiness is the way of this world, and if I were to affect it, I would have to learn.” She stopped, tilting her head. “In hindsight I did not give my Qwa'ha Xahn enough credit for his choice of vessel.”
“You are… amazing,” Andrew said, literally awestruck, and Willow decided to ignore him in favour of focussing on what Illyria was actually showing them on the computer.
According to Illyria, she had reached out to her remaining followers, and from that built a whole network, recruiting from people like… Andrew. Smart, tech-savvy, but often on the outside; in love with magical narratives and stories, looking for meaning and belonging. Many had already dabbled in the occult — much like The Trio, back in the day — but Illyria had taken all that energy and obsessiveness, usually wasted on conspiracy theories or sci-fi shows or gaming or any of the thousand of other ways which gifted people found to squander their free time and money on, and focussed it, using the lure of insider information and access to a wider network for those who committed more deeply. It almost ran itself, people recruiting friends or acquaintances, a web constantly expanding, like a fractal.
“How… how did you even think of this?” Willow asked, horrified and impressed in equal measures.
“I am a God. I know how to make people worship me,” Illyria replied, with unmistakable smugness. “And studying your world, I saw how humans wish for belonging above all else — they must all have a tribe; a political party or football team or righteous cause to support. What I have done is nothing different from the Freemasons, as Andrew noted. Being on the inside, knowing you are on the winning side, that you and your fellow disciples are on the right path, together — this is what humanity is made of. I went into this world-” she waved at the computer, “-and found lost souls, crying out for guidance and surety in a world that is falling apart.”
Her head turned, large blue eyes once more watching Willow with unnerving intensity.
“I can give them something real, something pure. All the gods left this realm too long ago, it is ripe to be plucked. I am merely giving them what they crave, what they… deserve.”
Willow wasn’t quite sure how to respond. You couldn’t tell an actual god that they were a megalomaniac… Especially not when you needed their help. Or possibly had to try to stop them. (Especially not when you had almost brought about an apocalypse yourself. Twice.)
“Also, she has the best BitTorrent, and her spoiler feed is unrivalled,” Andrew added.
“Right,” Willow said, wondering if it really was possible to stop a techno-savvy god. This was a million miles from TV evangelists.
Later
Buffy and Spike had gone off somewhere to say goodbye, and Illyria had taken Angel to see Nina and Connor.
Closing the door, Giles turned to Willow, pointedly ignoring Andrew.
“So. What can you tell me?”
As Willow laid out what Illyria had told them, Giles leaned forwards, resting his chin on his hands. It had been a long day already, and this wasn’t helping. An unpredictable hell god who was busy setting up a dedicated online following was something he could have done without on several levels.
“So she can help?” he eventually asked, and Willow nodded.
“Yup. Willing and able. And…” she hesitated. “She could be extremely useful. We have a physical presence of course because of all the Slayers, and the Council still have contacts everywhere, but this is… current. And online. An untapped source. Well, she’s tapped it… These people could monitor so many things - hacking and tracking and disabling, all the stuff that goes on behind the scenes, the stuff that isn’t strictly magical, just business.”
He sat for a long moment, prevaricating, weighing it all up in his head.
“Why did she tell us? She must know that if she tries anything, we will take her out?”
Willow hesitated for a long moment.
“She… doesn’t think in those terms.”
“What do you mean?” Giles asked — maybe a bit to quickly, but he hadn’t missed the way Willow had reached out for Talnor, and couldn’t help wondering if there was more to it somehow.
“She is a god,” Willow replied thoughtfully. “She is just… trying to fulfil her purpose, which is to be worshipped.”
Glancing at Andrew, Giles felt compelled to let his sarcasm shine through.
“Well that sounds harmless enough.”
“How to explain it…” Willow mused, then carefully continued. Giles wondered if the happy spontaneity would ever return, the ‘new’ Willow was very different from the one they’d lost.
“Like — she’s not interested in chaos,” Willow began. “If she wanted chaos, she could have brought through her hell armies from that other dimension. But she’s too smart for that. She has spent a good while just studying and learning — partly because she didn’t have a choice, but she’s taken on board how important it is to master the tools of this world… I’d say she wants to help us keep things ticking over, stopping things from falling apart if they manage to pull this Key thing off, and then…”
She spread her hands.
“I don’t know. Maybe she wants to slowly take over. From below, bit like what Wolfram & Hart did? It’s not… malicious in the sense humans would see it, she genuinely believes that the world will be better off as her subjects. Whatever that entails.”
He sighed, having noted how Willow constantly referred to ‘humans’ as if she was no longer part of the species. It worried him, and he was still wondering how to tackle it. Presuming he could…
“Charming. Well, I guess we don’t have any options at the moment except working with her. Especially given her little spy on the inside…”
Glancing at Andrew, he saw the young man’s face harden in anger as Andrew began speaking, voice harsh and without a shred of his usual buoyancy:
“Unbelievable,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “How long have I been working with you? And still you think I’ll go off following anything new that turns up, like some kind of pathetic magpie, enchanted by shiny things. As if I didn’t pay a price already for falling for the lies The First fed me — why do you think I would ever be that stupid again?”
Giles found himself a little taken aback.
“Well, you said you were a follower…”
“Of her spoiler feed, and a chat forum on movie releases, which had all the best BNFs-”
As Giles felt his mind blanking out, Willow whispered: “Big Name Fans.”
He nodded, although the words didn’t mean anything.
“-And so, I figured it might be useful for me to pretend to be on her side? If she thinks I’m a loyal follower, she might tell me more than she’d tell the rest of you. I’m undercover, and you just- You just think I’m still the same guy who killed his best friend-”
He broke off, emotional, and Giles struggled to give voice to both his relief and also to formulate some kind of apology.
“Andrew. I am sorry if we judged you too swiftly. You just seemed very… eager…”
“I am quite a good actor,” he retorted stiffly. “And if you will excuse me, I now need to read up on all her mythology so I can get even better at pretending to love her. At least I have a date tonight.”
He stood, obviously intending to sweep from the room, but Willow reached out and grasped hold of his sleeve.
“A date?”
Andrew looked both pleased and secretive, whilst cramming as much disdain into his voice as humanly possible:
“Yes, a date. Did you think I wore my brand new cosplay suit for the sake of this meeting?”
Willow shook her head.
“No, but — with whom?”
He sniffed.
“You won’t know him. His name is Richard and he works at Forbidden Planet. Now, please excuse me.”
And he continued his interrupted sweeping out, as Giles and Willow could only stare after him.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Giles eventually said, and Willow almost laughed.
“Aw, he’s growing up. It’s so cute.”
Taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, Giles eventually looked up. He was terribly pleased to see her interacting with something other than Talnor, and when he spoke his voice was infused with quiet humour:
“Well it’s nice that at least one person in this place seems to manage to get the famous work/life balance right...”
But Willow didn’t take the bait, instead her face return to a more sombre look, and she let her hand glide over Talnor’s back.
“Look, Giles… I realise that I’m still not 100%, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But there seems to be a component missing in all the issues we have discussed. Wolfram & Hart are a law firm. Shouldn’t we be looking at… lawyer-y things?”
He found it impossible to hide a smile. Too smart by half, as always. He’d missed her immensely, and was grateful that — all the changes aside — Willow still seemed to be in there somewhere.
“We… have found something for that, don’t worry.”
It was raining.
Buffy stood by a window, looking out over a grey, cold, wintry London, unsure what to do. This was the big moment — there should be a teary, romantic goodbye, but she was angry and upset and wasn’t sure how to reconcile her conflicted emotions with the fact that he might go off to get himself killed saving the world (again).
Spike didn’t speak; just watched her silently, which was almost worse.
They should go to her room, should… something. Instead they were in a dull corridor, the occasional Slayer or Watcher appearing, studying them with curiosity, and then pretending to go somewhere else.
Except for old Roger Wyndam-Pryce who of course had to go have a quick word with Spike.
She glared, but didn’t intervene. Wasn’t quite sure she trusted herself.
Illyria had opened up a portal for Angel to California and left with him, leaving Spike to yell after her ineffectually. Buffy didn’t know what he was going to ask her to do (maybe take them to the Hyperion?), and didn’t particularly care. It’d just be a different set of corridors. It was all too much — Dru, the Key, the leaving. She wanted to put a pause on everything.
She missed Willow; Willow who was right there of course, and who might one day be back to her old self, but for the moment was distant and other and not good for Buffy unburdening herself.
Missed Xander, who was happily preoccupied with his new girlfriend and generally busy flitting around the world, Mr Surprisingly Competent and Capable.
She observed Dawn from a distance, her happy university life and hap-hazard dating, and tried to remember if she had ever been that carefree herself.
They’d all spent Christmas in the Council, and it had almost — almost — been like old times.
She sighed — she missed Sunnydale, missed knowing every street and every stone, even missed the Hellmouth. The apocalypse had kept her so busy that she’d hardly noticed how lonely she had become… There had been a mantra in her head, a certainty that when Spike came back everything would be OK. Because it had to be. Because he was the one who always came back…
And now, here she was, about to lose her (second) vampire lover for the second time. What sort of ridiculous trick was life playing on her?
She had felt the narrative slipping away, but resolutely called for a big meeting; they had resources and power and smarts and were goddamn experts at subverting prophecies and ancient evils. She hadn’t been surprised at Angel being an obstacle, that was sort of par for the course. But Spike…
Spike was hers. Spike was the guy who was always, always, in her corner.
Obviously Dru and the whole vision thing had shaken him, but he’d waltzed into the meeting like nothing was amiss, and she had almost wilted in relief — except he had then proceeded to be Angel’s smart-arse-y loyal little sidekick-slash-Mini Me, hellbent on throwing himself on the proverbial sword.
She’d wanted to reach across the table, shaking him: ‘Do you want to die? Did you develop a death-wish on all your travels? Don’t you care about me? How dare you talk about dying like it’s nothing, like you aren’t leaving me again.’
Her face hardened, watching the raindrops running down the window. Why wouldn’t he fight for a solution? Why was he taking Angel’s side? Why was he suddenly more difficult to talk to than Willow, lost in the mind of an ancient creature? (Willow who would probably do pretty much anything to stay with Talnor. Why would Spike not even entertain the notion−)
Except then Illyria re-appeared, interrupting her maudlin musings, and Spike’s head snapped up.
“Right so, here goes. I was saving this up for later, but since there may not be a later… Come on love.”
Grabbing her hand, Buffy followed through sheer surprise.
“Now then Blue, one last trip-”
He leaned forwards, whispering something in Illyria’s ear. Her reaction was hard to gauge at first, but then a hard, dangerous look came over her face and she raised her arm, a portal unwinding and widening from her fingertips.
“What is it?” Buffy asked, both intrigued and alarmed.
Spike pursed his lips speculatively.
“Early birthday present?”
Chapter 25 on LJ
Chapter 25 on DW