Disclaimers: I don't own BtVS, or anything related to it. Spoilers: Up though "All the Way," but those won't come until later. Summary: A challenge response... death, angst... possibly darkness (if I can figure out how to write it). The Challenge: Okay, here's the guidelines! Dawn has to die. You can choose how, but Spike has to be mostly responsible. AND NO ONE CAN BRING HER BACK!!! The story has to be B/S. And, it has to take place after 'All the Way'. Here's the requiremennts!
Okay, here's my challenge idea...should you choose to accept it, I would be eternally happy!
Xander must be bitten by a vampire, and placed into the hospital for at least one night in critical condition.
Buffy beats Spike up in his crypt.
Angel comes down to Sunnydale.
A detailed desription of Dawn's tombstone and the inscriptions on it.
A group of teenagers vandalizing something.
A1 Steak Sauce
Joyce's ghost (either in real life or a dream)
Mexican currency
A Robin William's movie
a statue leaking blood tears
And, if you haven't already noticed, this story should probably be dark! The rating can be anything you choose, but know, that 'G' would probably restrict your writing muse a lot.
So, if you wanna try it, please reply to this message. I'd really like to see someone tackle this story!
Prologue
He held his burden tight as he trudged though the dark streets of the Hellmouth. Step by agonized, heart-wrenching step, the dark figure made his way toward Revello Drive, his burden heavy in more than just his arms.
Plodding up the steps to house number 1630, the vampire gently set his burden on the porch, the blood running from the two puncture wounds on her neck already drying as the tears continued to spill from his eyes.
Pulling his coat off, he lovingly covered her with it, adjusting the dark skin so that the white envelope in the pocket bearing the name "Buffy" was easily seen.
Pulling a stake from his pocket, Spike took one last look at the girl--the girl he had sworn to protect "'til the end of the world"--who, ultimately, was dead because of him, and plunged the pointed wood into his chest.
Author's Notes: I don't know when this will be updated, or how often... just look for updates periodically. I could use some help titling this though... any ideas? I won't be putting this up on my, or any other, sites until it's finished... just 1Three Weeks Before
". . . I did," Dawn said as she held the stake up, hitting Kevin in the heart. He exploded into nothing but ash.
Buffy found her sister a few minutes later, covered in vampire dust, feeling sorry for herself.
The next day started out normal . . . well, as normal as a day on a Hellmouth could get, anyway.
Dawn had off school that day because two students had completely toilet-paper-and-egged the entire school as a Halloween prank. The janitors had their work cut out for them, even with just an empty building.
And so it came to be that Dawn, after swearing never to sneak out after dark again, had gotten to postpone--for a whole day--the week-long grounding Buffy had imposed on her.
Dawn had missed seeing Spike lately, and--on the condition that, if she was asleep (it was day, after all), she'd come straight home--was allowed to spend the day with her best friend.
"Spike?" the girl called into the dusty tomb, careful not to open the door too wide for fear of dusting her friend.
"Hey, Nibs," he turned around in his green armchair; he had been watching Passions. "What brings you here?"
Good, she thought. I didn't wake him.
"Well, I got the day off from school today, and I thought, 'Hey . . . I haven't seen Spike lately,' so Buffy let me come over to hang."
"Buffy let you come here?" the vampire was a bit skeptical.
"After uber-beg-mode . . . and a bit of my secret weapon . . . yeah," the teen smiled, hopping up onto the sarcophagus, banger her heels on the side as she swung her legs.
"Uh . . . I can go if you're busy . . ." she stammered when he didn't say anything right away.
"No, no . . . stay, 'Bit," Spike quickly stopped her. "Sorry . . . got engrossed in the show again."
Then he noticed that she had a plastic bag and a black metal box lying on the slab beside her. He raised an eyebrow in question.
Dawn finally realized what his silent question was. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Buffy said I could spend the day here, but I wanted to watch videos and stuff, and you don't have a VCR, so she said--after even more begging--that I could bring ours, as long as I don't forget it here when I go home."
The peroxide blond chuckled. "C'mere, Dawn. Show me whatcha brought."
Dawn enthusiastically jumped to the floor, pulling two videos out of a Blockbuster bag as she went squealing to Spike's chair.
The girl sat on the armrest, flinging her arms around the vampire's neck in a happy hug. "Thank you! Thankyouthankyouthankyou . . ." she repeated, until Spike managed to disentangle himself from the hormone-bomb he called his only friend in the world.
"Yeah, yeah . . . enough with the mushy stuff, 'Bit. Got a reputation to protect, y'know."
Dawn giggled. "Okay," she brought the hand with the videos in front of his face.
"I got Patch Adams and Good Morning Vietnam . . . I'm guessing you'll want to see the second one first," the brunette smirked cheekily.
"Sure, Niblet . . . But, either way, I still say that Williams bloke is a ponce . . ." the vampire only put up a token insult as the teen finished hooking up the VCR and started the movie.
Each minion in the lair cowered in fear at their leader's fury. Not one of the twenty-five vampires--none of which were more than five years out of the grave--knew the cause of the elder vampire's rage, nor did they stay long enough to find out.
"Start packing!" the minions were confused by the sudden orders from their mistress, but scurried to do her will. A little more calm, the vampiress continued. "Miss Edith wishes a tea party in Hell . . ."
That night, Spike knocked on the Summers' door with his boot; how he had managed to carry not just Dawn, but the VCR and videos as well, not even he could fathom.
The door opened, revealing a ready-to-slay Buffy peeking out from the other side.
"'Bit fell asleep in the middle of the tale . . . didn't have the heart to wake her," the vampire explained.
Buffy sighed, shaking her head to avoid the inevitable heart pun, as she helped Spike with the VCR.
Once the teenager and the video equipment were stashed on various flat surfaces, Buffy went to tell Willow that Dawn was home, and that she was going on patrol.
As Spike followed his lady-love toward the first of Sunnydale's twelve cemetaries, he mused that, finally, his unlife seemed to be going alright.
He didn't know how wrong he was.
Author's Notes: Okay, I know I said it'd be dark... but don't worry! I'm getting there (I hope)... I mean, it's gotta at least START happy, if I'm gonna explain how it got dark in the first place, right?
I don't own the rights to Patch Adams, Good Morning Vietnam, or any other Robin Williams movies... I also don't own rights to Passions or Blockbuster stores either.
Chapter 2
Patrol had been pretty slow that night. The only excitement the blond duo found that night was in the slaying of a single Polgara demon, and a weak one at that.
"See you tomorrow" Spike asked, not daring to hope for more than the usual patrol. Sure, Buffy had been treating him almost-friendly lately, but he knew she just needed a confidant to commiserate about Heaven to.
"Same Bat Time, same Bat Channel," the Slayer quipped in a bored tone, sighing. Lately, she had caught herself wondering what had happened to the love-sick, stalker-ish Spike; she had had to stop herself from silently wishing for that Spike numerous times as well.
Without another word, the Slayer and the vampire parted ways; he headed to his crypt, she to the home that felt more and more like "just a house" every day since the deaths of her mother and herself.
She tiptoed into the house, careful not to wake her sister and the lover-wiccas.
Trudging up the stairs to her bedroom, Buffy had one thought in her mind as she got ready for bed. She always had the same thought every night; it was the last thought she had before sleep claimed her, and it was the first every morning while she blinked the sleep--but not the eternal fatigue and world-weariness--from her eyes. With a sigh, she thought it again:
I wish Mom were here.
I miss Joyce, the bleached vampire thought for at least the billionth time that year. She always knew what to do . . . I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew how to get that soddingly frightening empty look out of the Slayer's eyes . . . If Mum were here, she'd know what to do.
Then again, the vampire's thoughts changed direction as he did, flopping in his chair instead of heading to the lower level to sleep like he had originally planned.
Then again, if she were here, maybe Buffy wouldn't have seemed so sad to be back . . . I wonder . . . Did she get to see her mum up there? If nothing had form, did she have a way to recognize her anyway?
The vampire's musings kept up a steady stream of chatter in his head as he resolved to keep doing everything he could, redoubling his efforts, to put the life back in his Slayer's eyes.
The next day was Saturday. Dawn had had a craving for barbecue, so Willow and Tara, somehow, managed to scrounge together the necessary meats, condiments, and snack foods for the meal.
"Mmm . . ." the brunette moaned appreciatively as she savored the taste of beef, bread, and cheddar cheese, smothered in A1 sauce.
"I don't see how you can eat that," Buffy scoffed, a disgusted look on her face. "I mean, A1 is steak sauce--not burger-friendly."
"Oh, and your honey-barbecue is so much tastier?" Dawn retorted smugly.
The Slayer just rolled her eyes; she knew it was futile to try and convince her sister of the joys of honey-barbecue sauce--although, goodness knows she had tried--so she just clammed up.
No one seemed to notice the blonde's reticence . . . They were too busy snickering at Dawn's comeback.
Buffy sighed, looked at her own hamburger, and finished eating in silence.
Spike tossed and turned in his sleep. The dream had started out great; Joyce's ghost, sitting in the Summers' kitchen with Dawn, Buffy, and he, sipping hot chocolate with marshmallows . . . It really was a great dream.
Suddenly, everything but he and the ghost was gone.
Spike, Joyce's spirit prompted.
"Mum?" Spike asked, eyes hopeful. "Is it really you?"
Yes, Spike, she answered. Spike, you have to listen to me. It's very important. The girls are in danger. You have to be prepared . . . Don't let Buffy come back here again before she's ready.
"I'll protect them, Joyce, I swear I will," the vampire vowed. "What do I have to prepare for? What's coming, Joyce? I have to know!"
I can't say anymore . . . My time is up. Protect them, Spike! With that final warning, Joyce's voice faded into the ether of the vampire's dreams, only to be replaced by a chillingly familiar voice humming an even-chillier familiar tune.
Spike jolted awake.
"Oh God," his eyes widened as the meaning of the dream settled in. His eyes widened in panic. "Drusilla."
Chapter 3
Buffy woke to the door slamming closed downstairs. In a hurry to see what the commotion was about on a Sunday morning, the Slayer grabbed her robe, pulling it on and tying the belt on her way down the stairs.
"SLAYER!" she heard Spike shout from the kitchen. "Slayer! I gotta talk to--" he cut himself off when the petite blonde dashed into the kitchen. "--You," he finished, a bit quieter now.
"Spike, what is so important that you have to wake the whole house at the ungodly hour of 7:30?!?" Buffy fumed, tapping her foot on the linoleum as she glared at the vampire and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Trouble," the peroxided offender actually seemed to pant in his panic.
"I'm listening," the Slayer narrowed her eyes. And it better be good, said eyes nearly screamed at the vampire.
"I think Drusilla's back in town, and she's after you and the 'Bit," he let out in a rush.
"Why?" Buffy bit out. "Ad how do you know this? The loon send you a letter, or a telegram or something from Brazil?"
"I don't know, Slayer. And now, I didn't get a bloody letter. You wouldn't believe me if I told you how I found out, anyway, so I see no point in saying it."
"Try me," the blonde pixie of a Slayer demanded.
"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you . . ."
"Spit. It. Out. Spike!"
"Your mum . . . she told me in a dream last night," the vampire rushed the explanation, making sure to look into the Slayer's eyes, just for Credibility's sake.
He didn't say it fast enough for Buffy to reply, though. For, at that moment, Xander fell through the door, blood pouring from a double-puncture wound in his neck.
He passed out as soon as he hit the linoleum.
"Oh my God, Xander!" Buffy screamed as Spike went to the phone to call an ambulance.
Once he had hung up the phone, Spike went to make sure the whelp was okay--well, okay, he was really hoping Buffy would let him comfort her, but he knew it was best to have another excuse--just in case.
"Ambulance'll be here in a minute, Luv," he told the Slayer, crouching next to her. "He should be okay though . . . He's still breathing, and his heartbeat is a bit weak, but it's steady."
For once, Buffy actually seemed grateful that her Slaying partner was a vampire. That fact greatly alleviated her anxiety over her oldest friend's plight; it was one less thing to get her depressed and boody, what with the Heaven thing and all.
Buffy went to the hospital in the ambulance with Xander while Spike waited for Dawn to get up to let her know where her sister was.
The Slayer had been in the hospital waiting room for about a half hour when the doctor came to speak with her.
"Are you the girl who brought in Alexander Harris?" the doctor asked, double-checking the name from the chart in his hand while he spoke.
"Yes, Buffy Summers," she managed to stutter. "Is he alright?"
"He'll be fine. We've managed to stabilize him, but he's lost a lot of blood, so we'll have to keep him overnight to monitor his condition. Not to worry, though," the doctor back-tracked when Buffy's face started to fall. "We're sure he should be strong enough to go home in the morning."
Buffy breathed an audible sigh of relief. "Oh good. I was so worried when he just fell through the door like that. Thank you, doctor."
"You're quite welcome. Do you have any idea what could have happened? Just for the medical records?"
Vampire, she knew, but she dared not say so aloud. So, she just stuck to the story she had told the ambulance people and the other doctors at the hospital.
"No, sorry. He just came through the back door and passed out. I don't know how long it had been since it happened or anything. Sorry."
"Quite alright, Miss Summers. It's quite alright."
"Can-Can I see him?" she asked, a little unsure.
"I don't see why not . . . but only for five minutes. He's not out of the woods yet."
"Alright," the Slayer managed to say while the doctor led her to the room Xander was in. "Thank you, Doctor."
She walked in the room and closed the door, talking to her friend while he slumbered.
"Hey, Xand . . . that's a pretty nasty vampire bite ya got there . . ."
The next evening, Anya sat at her finacés side. She was quite distraught. She had never seen Xander actually bitten before, and frankly, it scared her that her first love wasn't as semi-invincible as she though the was. Anya had put Xander on such a pedestal; he was bound to prove that fanciful view of himself false sooner or later.
But why couldn't it have been later?
The twenty-one-year-old brunette began to stir, moaning from the stiffness in his neck and back.
"Xander!" Anya squealed happily. "You're okay!" she clutched her fiancé's hand a bit tighter, leaning over the rail on the bed to look in his eyes as they opened.
"Mmm . . ." Xander opened his eyes, vision a little blurry. He only had one thought as he came slowly back to coherence. I have to tell Buffy . . . She can deal with this.
The ex-vengeance demon's face fell with Xander's first semi-coherent word. She had no way to know the real reason behind that word; she just went by what her instincts told her it meant.
". . . Buffy?"
The gang was waiting in the waiting room--a rather redundant thought to even the most dense of people--when Anya came dashing from Xander's room at the hospital.
"He's awake," she managed to get out between tear drops. She turned to Buffy. "He's asking for you . . . I-I have to go." The ex-demon ran from the hospital, barely holding back her sobs until she reached the car parked outside.
"Hey, Xand!" Buffy exclaimed when she and the rest of the gang were allowed in to see him. "How are you feeling?"
"Like my whole head and back was bitten, instead of just my neck," the now-completely-coherent young man answered, searching the faces around him. "Where's Anya?"
Everyone looked at their toes, practically scuffling their shoes on the floor in their haste to not be the one to tell.
"Guys," Xander chided, getting impatient. "Where's Anya?"
"Well, ah . . ." Willow started.
"We don't know," Buffy finished. "She ran out to the waiting room, crying, then she said that you were asking for me and ran out of the hospital."
"Why was she crying?"
"We don't know, Xander," Willow said. "She just came out, then she left. None of us were in here with her."
"Isn't it obvious?" Spike interjected. "When you woke up, you were askin' for someone that wasn't her, and believe me, that hurts." The vampire was reminded of the times Drusilla would cry for Angelus in her sleep after the Acathla incident four years before. It was a good thing Spike was over Drusilla, or else the memory might've hurt more than just the simple twinge it was at that moment.
"Nobody asked you, Evil Dead," Xander spat. "What're you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be with Psycho-Vamp, now that she's back?" The brunette completely ignored the vampire's words of wisdom, even though, deep down, he knew the blond was right.
Buffy's and the gang's eyes widened.
"So it's true then? Drusilla's back in town?" Buffy asked.
"Who do you think put me here?" Xander gestured around the hospital room.
"I'll kill her!" Buffy exclaimed heatedly.
"Count me in on that patrol, Luv," Spike interjected clenching his jaw in time with his fists.
"Again, I ask, Why do you care?" Xander bit at the Vampire, voice as venomous as a cobra's bite.
"He can explain the details later, Xander," Buffy interrupted before a fight started between the two males. "Let's just say he got a warning, and leave it at that until we all can get out of here."
"Speaking of that . . . when can we get outta here?" Xander gladly grasped the makshift subject change
"As soon as you like," a doctor startled the whole gang, but they recovered as the doctor handed Xander some papers to sign. "Here are you release forms. All you have to do is sign them in the appropriate places, and you're free to go."
Author's Notes: I know, I know, EVIL place to end a chapter... But that's just where the Writer's Anvil (Notice it's not just a Block this time.) just happened to fall... I don't know WHEN the next chapter will come to me, but I'm hoping within the next month or so. I can't promise anything even remotely faster, what with webmistressing and other fics to write and read. SO, please read/review, and I hope you enjoyed!
Chapter 4
"Bloody Hell!" Spike yelled as he was thrown from his comfy green chair a few nights after Xander's release from the hospital.
Spike held up his hands to block the Slayer's trademark nose-punch as he protested. "What's with the impromptu round of 'Kick the Spike?' I haven't done anything, Slayer, so why are you beating on me?!?"
"Why?" Buffy managed to grit out between punches and kicks--the vampire wasn't even trying to defend himself, which only frustrated her more. "What? Like . . . I . . . need . . . a reason . . . now?"
Spike snorted disdainfully. "Well, yeah . . . I mean, one day, we're drinkin' buddies, gettin' right knackered, and the next, you're tryin' to beat me to a bloody pulp!"
The petite blonde stopped to take a breath, actually seeming to consider the peroxided pest's protests.
Only a fraction of a second passed before she cocked her head in a manner reminiscent of the vampire she was beating, and came to a decision.
"Sorry," she said, unrepentant. "Just need something less . . . stand-still-y . . . to practice on tonight." Then, realizing what she'd said, and the vampire's current position, she stopped again.
"Hey . . . why aren't you moving?"
A black convertible pulled up to the curb outside of 1630 Revello. A figure in a long, black coat, dark clothes, and short, dark hair walked to the door and rang the bell.
"I'll get it!" Dawn was heard, screaming to anyone in the house. The door opened.
The girl let the door stand open as she glared at the figure. Crossing her arms and tapping her foot, she asked coldly, "What are you doing here?"
"Have fun, Pet?" the platinum-blonde vampire snarked when the Slayer finally sat-collapsed, leaning against the wall next to him. All he got in answer was a small, cheshire-cat grin.
After about twenty minutes, just sitting there in a somewhat-comfortable silence, Buffy jumped up, patting Spike once on his nearer thigh. Once she was fully standing, the Slayer held her hand out, as though giving the other blonde a lift to his feet.
"What?" Spike glared at the hand, not bothering to take it.
"Patrol," the Slayer insisted, re-offering the same hand.
"Should'a bloody well thought o' that before you had your little fun with my face," Spike grumped.
Buffy pouted. She may be seriously depressed, but she knows how to manipulate the love-sick sods like me, Spike grumbled to himself.
"Pleeeeeeease?" the Slayer begged, sticking out her lower lip.
"Now, Slayer, do't do that . . . You know I can't resist that face . . . Evidenced by the hangover you had a few weeks back . . . Remember?"
But the petite woman was determined to have her slaying partner with her that night.
"Oh, bugger all! Alright, let's go." He reached for the hand that Buffy had offered just minutes before, but she had already withdrawn it, running out of the crypt as soon as the vampire had agreed to come along.
Hurrying to catch up as fast as possible without aggravating his Slayer-induced injuries, Spike gingerly ran after her.
"Slayer'll be the dust of me yet . . ."
"Dawn, um, can I come in?" the dark figure asked. "Where's Buffy?"
Before she could respond, the figure was bowled over by Spike. The blonde had just started to pummel the visitor, when Buffy managed to get a grip on him, effectively curtailing any more violent attempts.
"Spike, stop," the Slayer demanded when he tried to wriggle out of her grasp.
"What's Spike doing here?" the dark one inquired, curious.
"Patrolling," Buffy said matter-of-factly.
Spike, forbidden physical jabs, felt he had to try for verbal.
"Just gettin' in a little spot o' violence before bed, Peaches."
Xander plodded home from the Magic Box, where he had hoped--and failed--to find his fiancée. As much as he hated to admit it, the evil, blood-sucking fiend was right: no matter how inadvertently, Xander had hurt the former vengeance demon.
Hoping to explain himself and make amends, every night since his release from the hospital, the construction worker had searched all of Anya's favorite places. He checked at the Magic Box, the Bronze, her favorite stores at the mall, and the restaurant she liked to be taken to as often as possible, all to no avail. He even went home at various random intervals, hoping to catch her getting clothes or food. Even those attempts to find her came up fruitless.
That night's search having been again in vain, Alexander Harris headed home, careful to avoid any of the more prominent demon haunts, wishing his love would come back to him soon.
Drusilla clapped her hands in childish delight when she saw the spell she had been looking for in the book brought by one of the more ambitious minions.
Giggling gleefully, the mad vampiress kissed the vampire on the forehead, handing him a coin--a mexican five-pesos piece, to be exact.
None of the minions knew why, but their loony mistress seemed to like rewarding them just as much as she liked punishing them. None of the vampires dared question her about it either.
"Good dog," she dismissed the minion with a pat to his lumpy forehead. "Now, run along. Mummy must find the green one for her tea party."
"Why are you here, Angel?" Buffy demanded, once she had been able to get the two vampires inside and in opposite corners of the living room.
"Drusilla--" the dark vampire was interrupted by groans from Dawn--who had insisted on hearing what Angel had to say--and Spike, as well as an irritated hand gesture from Buffy.
"I guess you already know she's in town then?" At the three identical nods, he continued. "Well, I've been tracking Drusilla since she went back to Brazil last year after Wolfram & Hart brought Darla Back.
A couple days ago, I overheard one of the top lawyers in the firm saying something about a ritual that requires a master vampire to do at the Hellmouth. This ritual would have to be done soon, or else the vampire would have to wait another century to try again.
Since my sources tracked Drusilla here, I can only assume she's the vampire doing the ritual," he finished with a sigh.
"Well, we knew the loon was in town, and we know that she's after either me, Dawn, or both of us, but we didn't know why until just now.
We need to find out more about this ritual. I guess tomorrow, it's a good, old-fashioned research party, then." Buffy pouted. She hated research with the passion she put into the more physical aspects of slaying.
"Looks like," Spike interjected. "Well, Slayer, I'm off. Guess I might as well chip in some Book Time too, what with Demon Girl missing and all. I figure the ol' blanket's been sittin' in the closet too long, anyway."
"Bright and early tomorrow, then?" Angel was astonished that the Slayer seemed to be having a polite conversation with the other vampire.
"Not too early. Have to get at least some sleep, you know? Vampire," the blonde replied, pointing to himself as he jumped up, eager to be away from his grand-sire as soon as possible. Buffy winced when, on his way out, Spike inadvertently slammed the door.
Angel looked to Buffy, confused.
"Blanket?"
Author's Notes: Hey, hey, hey! I finally got past the writer's block! And look! The chapter you got was longer than usual! Be happy!
On a side note, it doesn't seem to be getting very dark, although I AM trying with the angsty stuff and the non-happy endings. Does that work for you, Allison?
Chapter 5
The Scoobies, minus Anya and Dawn, but plus Angel, met the next evening at the Magic Box.
They had been researching for hours, when a squeak was heard from the corner, where Willow and Tara had been checking a particularly large volume.
"What is it?" Angel asked. "Have you found something?"
The witches nodded, mutely handing over the text.
While he read the duo's findings, the vampire's eyes widened in understanding an horror.
At the urgent looks from the rest of those present, the brunette vampire read aloud:
And in the time of the Chosen's third Cycle, when the statue of Archangel Gabriel sheds tears of blood, and the Newly-Human is lost again, the Loon shall find the Hell Spell.The Protector shall need protecting from, and the Portal-Maker shall cease.
The Loyal and the Witches shall fight valiantly, and the Mouth of Hell shall close, but in vain.
The Souled One shall be angered, and dust at the hands of the Loon, who shall die by the Lover's hand.
The ritual performed, Protector and Protected gone, the sister dead inside, none but the Living Three shall know the battle's outcome.
"Okay," Xander started, startling everyone out of their "listening funks." "I get that there's major badness comin', but why can't these prophecies ever make sense?"
"It makes sense to me, which is weird . . . I'll be in the training room." Buffy seemed to need to pummel something, so everyone left her alone when they heard the sounds of pseudo-battle coming from the back of the shop.
Everyone, that was, except Spike. The vampire waited until no one was paying attention, and snuck to the back to speak with the Slayer.
"What do you want, Spike?" Buffy demanded, never losing her rhythm.
"I . . ." he started, startled out of lurking. He hadn't expected her to notice him in her upset state. "I want you to know that I . . . I'd never . . ."
"I know, Spike. I know you care for her," Buffy said, calming down a bit. "I trust you to keep that promise, and you've not failed me yet."
Spike hung his head, shamefully remembering the night of Buffy's death. "Yes, I have."
"Spike," Buffy reprimanded. "Spike, look at me." When the vampire's eyes met hers, the Slayer continued. "That wasn't your fault. I don't blame you for what happened with Doc."
"You should. I couldn't protect her, and I promised that I would. If I had . . ."
The Slayer saw that the vampire was getting choked up, and wondered to herself, Why didn't I see this before? With the dawning of self-knowledge and shame, she answered her own question. Because I didn't want to.
"None of that, you bleached idiot," she chided playfully, trying to stall both their tears at the memories. "Now, come on. I think the gang's waiting for us to come up with a plan." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "I hate prophecies."
The two blondes walked back into the shop proper in companionable silence, a little better understanding between them.
"Ok, we need to find Drusilla and make sure Dawn stays as far away from her as possible." Buffy's usual take-charge attitude was firmly in place when she and Spike appeared back at the table with the gang.
"Maybe if Dawnie knew what she looked like," Willow interjected, "she'd know who to avoid."
"Wouldn't work," Spike and Angel argued at the same time. Angel motioned for Spike to continue the explanation, seeming a little less uptight about the younger vampire's presence. Spike had, after all, been able to get the Slayer to calm down and get to business--no easy task for anyone.
Spike continued. "Drusilla's got some serious head mojo going. Watcher here can attest to that." At Giles' nod and Angel's accompanying wince, the blonde continued.
"If she were to encounter Dru, Dawn may have every intention of getting away, but one look in Drusilla's eyes, and the Niblet's mind wouldn't be her own anymore."
"It's how she killed Kendra," Xander realized, remembering. "She hypnotized her first, got her to stop fighting."
"Exactly," Spike affirmed with a nod.
"Let's not forget," Giles decided to tell all. "She can make you believe that she's someone you want to see. I know that first-hand."
Spike nodded solemnly, and Angel winced again.
"Okay, so wee keep Dawn away from Drusilla. But the question is," Buffy re-capped. "Where is Drusilla? Dawn can't avoid everywhere."
Angel spoke up. "She thrives on chaos and destruction. She'd be as close to it as possible. My guess is she's set up shop atop the Hellmouth, in the old school ruins."
"Goody . . . Back to school again," Buffy quipped before turning serious again. "Now, we need a way to stop the ritual in case it starts anyway. Any ideas?"
The Scoobies went back to the books and kept researching far into the early morning. Even after leaving the shop, each had taken various texts to study in preparation for the battle they knew was coming.
It was going to be a long week.
The next night, the telephone rang at 1630 Revello Drive.
"I'll get it!" Dawn exclaimed, bounding down the stairs toward the kitchen since she didn't have an extension in her room.
"Hello, Summers residence," the brunette chirped once she'd taken the phone off its cradle.
Dawn, it's Willow. Is Buffy there? The redhead's voice came over the receiver.
"Sure, hang on," the teen answered, noticing that the Wiccan sounded a bit panicked. She put a palm over the microphone part of the phone.
"BUFFY!" Dawn shouted at the top of her lungs. "WILLOW'S ON THE PHONE, CALLING FROM THE SHOP FOR YOU!"
"I GOT IT!" she heard from the Slayer's room upstairs, right before the tale-tell click attested to the fact that her sister did, indeed, have the phone. "YOU CAN HANG UP NOW, DAWN!"
The sneaky teen, wondering what had Willow so panicked, faked a hang-up click.
But Buffy, having only two years before been a teen herself, wasn't about to be tricked into saying anything that way.
"DAWN! HANG UP THE PHONE!"
"Alright, alright," the brunette grumbled, actually complying this time.
"So, what's up, Wills?" the Slayer asked into her own extension once the phone downstairs had been hung up.
"Buffy, we know what the ritual is supposed to do . . . and we may have found a way to stop it if it starts."
"Okay, good. But Dawn's here at the house. I'm sure the ritual shouldn't be a problem tonight, right?"
"Well," the witch seemed to hesitate.
"Wills?"
"Buffy, the ritual is tonight. As long as Dawn is safe until morning, then we're home free."
"Great," the blonde chirped, hopes soaring. "Thanks, Wills. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. I'm just gonna make dinner and then go for patrol later. I'll probably be gone before you get back."
"Oh, okay. Bye, Buffy," the witch answered before hanging up.
The Slayer hung up the phone, lying back on her bed to think about what to do for dinner.
After she hung up the telephone, Dawn heard a soft rapping at the front door at the same time as Spike slammed the door in the kitchen.
"Coming!" she called to the front door's visitor.
"Hey, Dawn!" the teen saw her friend Janice at the door. "Wanna come over to my house? I got that new CD you wanted to borrow."
"I can't," Dawn grumbled. "I'm grounded, you know, 'cause of the Halloween thing?"
"Aw, come on, Dawnie. It'll be fun!" Janice wheedled.
"Uhm . . . okay. I guess so. Buffy probably doesn't even remember that she grounded me anyway." She grabbed her coat, shouting as she went out the door, "BUFFY, I'M GOING OVER TO JANICE'S!" She closed the door behind her.
"Dawn!" Spike yelled, coming into the foyer, seconds too late.
"Buffy!" He changed the name when he noticed that the younger Summers was gone. "SLAYER!"
"What, Spike?" the blonde woman asked as she walked down the stairs.
"Drusilla . . . She just took the Niblet!"
"What are you talking about, Spike? Dawn said she was going over to Janice's." She put her hands on her hips, impatiently waiting for the vampire's explanation.
"Dru tricked her. 'Bit thought it was her chum at the door, but it was really Drusilla workin' the mind mojo!"
"Oh, God!" Buffy rushed to the telephone, dialing frantically.
Thank you for calling the Magic Box, your one-
"Willow, there's no time for greetings. Drusilla has my sister! Get everybody together and tell them to meet Spike and I at the old high school with spells and weapons!" She slammed the phone down, nearly cracking it in her rush to grab sword and stakes.
"Let's go," she demanded unnecessarily to her peroxided comapanion.
The blonde duo rushed into the school, not noticing that one of the fountains they had passed during their short-cut through the cemetary had been crying blood. The two only had one purpose in mind: Save Dawn.
When the rest of the Scoobies finally made their way to the old library, the battle was already in full swing.
Spike, spotting Dawn, started to run toward the trussed-up teen, but was halted by Drusilla, who had managed to get in front of him and cut off his strides.
"Spike!" Buffy warned, although she knew he already knew. "Her eyes!"
But it was too late. As soon as he stopped, Spike had inadvertently locked eyes with his ex-love and fallen under her spell.
"Be . . . in my eyes," she intoned, bringing two fingers from his eyes to hers. "Be . . . in me."
When she had him swaying to her own rhythm, Drusilla stepped aside.
Buffy hadn't noticed the hypnotizing, since Drusilla's minions had moved the battle outside, along with Xander, Willow, Tara, and Giles.
The Slayer and her Watcher fought side-by-side while Xander protected the witches' casting area.
Buffy, in horror, watched Giles stumble, losing his balance. She screamed when a vampire instantly ripped out his throat with inch-long incisors.
"GILES! NO!" The Slayer's fury mounted at her mentor's death, and she fought in a blind rage until there were no more to fight. Buffy collapsed to her knees, tears for her surrogate father filling her eyes, but refusing to fall.
Angel lurked in the shadows of the old library, the only one to have seen the crazy vampiress' mind trick.
When Drusilla stepped aside, he lunged for his grand-childe, but Drusilla got in his way, holding a stake to where his heart would end up. The ensouled vampire crumbled to dust before Drusilla's eyes.
"Her blood, it calls to you, doesn't it, my Spike." She turned back to the bleached blonde. "The same as the nasty Slayer's. It is the effulgence of her blood you seek. You've found your final prize. Claim it."
In a trance, Spike advanced on his best friend, unheeding of the brunette's pleas to stop.
The earth shook, bringing three of the four mourners out of their grieving stupors.
"Willow!" Xander exclaimed. "The ritual's started! You've gotta close the Hellmouth!"
As the two witches worked frantically to avert yet another apocalypse, the loyal carpenter couldn't help thinking, "Oh, God . . . I hope Dawn is alright."
EpilogueOne Year Later
A young woman with long, blonde hair stood with a redhead and a brown-haired man. In front of them were four tombstones bearing five inscriptions.
"We miss you guys a lot," Tara spoke quietly, almost as if the dead could hear her no matter how soft she spoke.
"Thanks for the coat, Evil Dead," Xander joked lamely, stroking the leather duster he wore. He wouldn't have told anyone before, but he really didn't hate the vampire that much.
"We've missed you for a while, Mrs. Summers, but don't think it means we've forgotten you," Willow intoned, lying a small bouquet of flowers at each marker.
"We'll miss you, Dawnmeister," the first original Scooby started to get choked up. Even after a year, it was still hard to believe they were gone.
"Giles, you'd be proud of me," Willow started. "You were right, I was a rank, arrogant amateur. I've been going to therapy with a coven based in Los Angeles for a few weeks now, and I'm doing better."
The last stone sat almost exactly as it had just two years before, although the grave underneath had been empty for a year before the battle with Drusilla.
Tears came down each of the three friends' faces as they remembered their last friend.
Buffy came home the night after the battle, hoping Dawn had been saved when Willow and Tara had done the counter-spell. She knew that Spike would bring her home, so she went straight there once her three friends had pried her away from Giles' corpse.
When, instead, she found her sister's body, covered in the coat and ashes of her semi-reluctant ally, the Slayer fell to her knees.
She then noticed the letter in the duster's pocket. With trembling hands and blurry eyes, Buffy read the vampire's last words:
Dearest Buffy,I have failed you, and for that, I don't deserve to call myself even your friend, which was what I had hoped we were after the times you'd confided in me.
You trusted me with your sister's life, and I couldn't be trusted.
Know this, Slayer. I would've never, were I in my right mind, hurt the Niblet in any way. You know that. But, because of my inability and inadequacy to resist Drusilla's mind games, your sister was killed by my hands.
Ironically, I don't remember the chip firing at all as I dazedly drained the 'Bit. Don't know whether it was because of Dru's games or not, but I know you can't risk the chip malfunctioning.
I am so very sorry, Buffy. I would prefer to go to Hell at the end of your stake in battle, but, traitor that I've turned out to be--however unintentional--I don't deserve that honor.
So, these are my last words to you. I never stopped loving you. I know it doesn't bring L'il Sis back, but, for what it's worth, I am, for the first time in my existence as a vampire, truly sorry for what I've done.
Drusilla is dust. I killed her as soon as I came out of my trance. You don't need to worry about that bint anymore.
Goodbye, Buffy. Forever Yours,
Spike
Buffy had been catatonic until the funerals. She had insisted on a memorial of some kind for the vampire as well, and the remaining Scoobies, knowing how unstable she was, complied. Everyone assumed that Angel had gone back to L.A. as soon as the battle was over, so there was no memorial for him.
The Slayer was lucid for a few days after the funerals, but gradually seemed to shut down, falling completely catatonic a week after laying her remaining family and two of her friends to rest. She died in the hospital a week later, having no one else to live for besides Willow, Xander and Tara; they weren't enough.
Taking one last look at their friends' final resting places, the Living Three walked slowly, sadly, and resolutely home.
For many centuries afterward, the four headstones and five inscriptions--joined later by three others--stood as testaments to the brave and loyal fighters who had done their best, for nearly six years, to save the world.
The first, a simple tablet, read:
JOYCE SUMMERS
1958-2000
Beloved Mother.
She will be missed.
To the left, Joyce's eldest daughter rested, with the marker for her vampire ally added to the side of the headstone. The death date had been changed by the Three as an afterthought.
BUFFY SUMMERS
1981-2002
Beloved sister, devoted friend.
She saved the world a lot.
1860-1880-2002
Protector, ally, friend.
To the left of the double-memorial lay the Watcher's stone.
RUPERT "RIPPER" GILES
1945-2002
Surrogate father.
Loved by all.
The joint stone of the lover-wiccas eventually rested next to Giles', with Xander's stone following.
On the other side of Joyce's grave, the youngest Summers rested underneath a small stone made of rose quartz and shaped like a short monolith. An intricate key was chiseled out of the top of the stone, just above the epitaph:
DAWN SUMMERS
1987-2002
The Key to more than our hearts.
Author's Notes: YAY! Another one finished! I didn't include Willow, Tara, or Xander's epitaphs, because they didn't die until later.
Thanks to all of you who have reviewed this story and read to the very end; you're the greatest!
Obviously, since everybody's dead, I will NOT be doing a sequel to this one . . . ever.
I warped the timeline a bit . . . It IS set after "All the Way" in the Buffy-verse, but in the Angel-verse, Connor wasn't born yet, in case you were wondering.
Allison, how'd you like? To your specifications? How'd you like the "surprise" deaths?
Anyway, that's all she (I) wrote. Hope you liked.
DS
SPIKE1860-1880-2002Protector, ally, friend.
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