Chapter Nine

 

Buffy woke in the dream world and frowned. She was still on the ice, the shield on her arm, but she was alone. The mist had grown thicker and she could only see a few yards. "Well, this isn't much fun," she muttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry. If I'd known I was expected to provide entertainment as well as give you a priceless gift -"

Buffy looked around. "A disembodied voice? I don't get to see you?"

"Try looking in the shield."

Buffy slid the shield off her arm and turned it. She saw her own reflection swim up from the milky depths, but that was all. There was a pause. Buffy sighed. "Is this the part where you tell me the answers are all inside me, I just have to look?"

The face looked offended. "Certainly not."

"So why do you look like me?"

"I look like whoever the current Slayer is." The face shimmered and dissolved, then reappeared as Faith. "Do you prefer this? She's equally valid, of course, but as you're the one here -"

"No!" said Buffy hastily. "Go back to being me. Please." She didn't feel up to a prolonged conversation with Faith.

The face obeyed, smiling happily out from the shield. "Do you live in there? Who are you?" asked Buffy curiously.

"I don't know that you can call it living, exactly, but my essence is within the shield, yes. It has been from the beginning. And I just hate being all mystifyingly cryptic so I'll tell you everything you need to know." Buffy raised a sceptical eyebrow. If true, it would be wonderful but she wasn't hopeful. "Of course, what seems clear to me might not seem so to you," the face went on. "After all, I can see the big picture and you can't." Buffy felt almost reassured as the world went back to normal. She settled down and waited for the vagueness to begin.

"My name is Ula. I was the First Slayer. My father was the enchanter who created the Slayers after the last demon tainted human blood by feeding and making a vampire. He had a personal reason for doing this, as a vampire killed his brother. My father knew that I would die before my time so he arranged it that I would become immortal myself in a way. As one Slayer dies, another is Chosen. But his magic was only so strong. He sacrificed his life to augment it and that is why every thousand years, another sacrifice must be made, to keep the spell - and the Slayers - alive."

"Stop!" said Buffy, scrambling to her feet and dropping the shield on the ice. The flow of information had stunned her but one question was clamouring to be heard. "I've seen the First - she was nothing like you. You sound, well, like me. Not thousands of years old. And, no offence, but she was serious, dedicated, not, well, chatty."

Ula smiled. "You saw me as I was, thousands of years ago. When I died, my mother managed to capture my soul and she put it in here. The shield has gone to many places, had many owners and I have listened and learned. I can also sense a lot of what happens to you - to all the Slayers. I can hardly remember that girl." Her face looked thoughtful. "Do you think you'd have much in common with yourself at six months? But that's why you were told to bring the Shield. Can't do much without me, now can you? It made it a little harder for you to get here without it; I can open the portal you see. Matthew Delvers didn't need to kill anyone to reach the Realm; he just needed the Shield, but Grelin either didn't know that or didn't care."

Buffy frowned. "So, if I had had the shield back in Sunnydale, I wouldn't have had to feed off Spike?"

Ula shook her head. "No, there has to be blood as well but it doesn't have to mean a death. It's only a portal, after all. And it was important that you fed. I think you'd already worked that out. It's the sign of the need to renew the power when a Slayer and a vampire combine. You're a special Slayer, dying and all that - and he's a special vampire. A match made in - hmm, not heaven, not with you two. Let's just say it was meant to be."

Buffy felt her head swim. "So, I'm here, I've got the shield; what now?"

"I told you; a sacrifice must be made."

Buffy sighed. "I guessed as much. Well, this is something I've had a lot of practise at so it shouldn't be too -"

"No, no, not you! You're the Slayer and a good one too, despite what my earlier self told you. I was a bit focused back then. No need for you to die before your time as I did."

Buffy felt a sickness grow within her. 'Then who?"

Ula grimaced. "You're not usually this slow," she complained. "I made it easy for you; you don't have to look far or anything. He's standing right by your body."

Buffy shook her head vehemently. "I will not sacrifice him! I know he's a vampire, I know I'm supposed to kill his kind, but you don't understand; he's different, he's changed. He trusts me with his life. He fed off me and didn't kill me; that says it all." She stopped, out of breath, her emotions violent and turbulent. "You just said we were meant to be!"

Ula grinned, annoyingly. "Ain't love grand and dramatic? I didn't mean him. I meant - oh. That's not so good."

"What?"

"I meant Grelin but unfortunately, someone else has just killed him."

***

Grelin could scarcely speak, he was so angry. To have this moment interrupted, spoiled, by the likes of Delvers - it was beyond anything. The cup rolled to the edge of the pool of water and silently fell in. It was wood but it didn't float. Instead it was sucked in, vanishing from sight. Thrusting Delvers aside, Grelin threw himself down and reached into the water, his fingers searching desperately for the cup. It was gone. Grelin scooped up a handful of the water and drank it but there was no effect.

"It has to be from the cup," he muttered. Matthew watched him calmly, no trace of fear on his face. Grelin stood and glanced about him; the still bodies of the Slayer and her Guardian, the silent figure of the man he had twisted to suit his purposes. "You think you have stopped me?" he said. "I will kill you and him and when she wakes, I will kill her too and take her power." His voice was rising until he sounded like a spoiled, petulant child.

Matthew halted his progress with one devastating word. "How?"

Grelin looked puzzled. "Killing is easy, little man. I taught you that, if nothing else."

Matthew looked at him patiently. "Once she has the power, it belongs to the Slayer line. You cannot take it from her here. Kill her and another will rise. You have lost everything, dreams, ambitions and purpose, just like me. Now we're equal."

"Equal? I, the equal of a human? I am an Immortal, a higher being. You exist to feed me, to serve me, no more."

"You are a man who lets a demon rule you. A weakling. I pity you, and I pity myself. "

His words maddened Grelin and he advanced, his fangs sharp, his bestial eyes gleaming gold. Delvers stood still, his hands by his side. Grelin grabbed him by the shoulders and bit deeply into his neck, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone and the hot gush of blood. Mathew smiled even as he screamed in pain, smiled as he plunged the stake into Grelin's heart, the thirsty stake, fed by dust and blood. Fangs locked in his victim's neck, Grelin never saw the stake flash upwards, hardly felt it penetrate. But he saw the smile and pulled back in time to see what jutted out of his chest.

"No!" Grelin gripped the stake and tried to pull it out, tried to reverse his fate. It was too late. Delvers looked into the face of the demon who had corrupted him utterly and saw it shred away to bone and dust. Then he fell to the ice, one hand at his ruined throat.

"Thanks, mate. Saved me a job," said Spike, struggling up to his knees.

***

"Spike's killed him? Is he okay?" Buffy demanded. "Let me go to him."

Ula pouted. "Wasn't Spike. Fine Guardian you picked. It was Matthew. I suppose if anyone had the right to kill Grelin it was he. Oh, well. Maybe you will need to kill Spike after all." She sounded completely unconcerned, as though she were offering Buffy the choice between tea or coffee.

"Not going to happen," said Buffy grimly. "I want to see what's going on. Right now."

Ula must have done something because suddenly Buffy was back in her own body. She sat up and looked around quickly. Spike was crawling over to Matthew, both of them dripping blood all over the ice. Buffy cried out and ran over to Spike. "Where are you hurt? What happened?" she asked, gripping his shoulders.

He looked up at her through pain hazed eyes. "Buffy. You got it all sorted then? Had a bit of a problem with Grelin but Matthew here took care of it."

Buffy glanced at Matthew, saw his throat and shuddered. "Grelin fed off him?"

Spike shook his head slowly. "He got suckered. Matthew lured him in, knowing that was the only way Grelin would let him get close enough to stake. He waited until Grelin had his fangs in and then stabbed him. Brave. Stupid but brave."

Matthew coughed, blood pouring out of his mouth. "Not stupid," he whispered. "Nothing to live for. Murderer twice over."

Buffy went over to him, kneeling beside him, knowing that he had only moments to live. "You were still brave," she said simply. "You knew what he planned to do and you've saved so many people. I know it doesn't cancel out what you did but - it helps. Believe me."

Spike looked away uncomfortably as the agony ripped at his side. The shield caught his eye and he frowned, catching a glimpse of the familiar reflection inside. It shimmered and an insubstantial figure appeared in the air, a twin to Buffy. Spike said urgently, "Buffy -" and she turned, glaring when she saw Ula.

"Can't you at least let him die in peace?" The Slayer demanded.

"Er; who is this, love?" asked Spike, wondering if he was hallucinating.

Ula took pity on his bewilderment and changed form so that she looked like the First Slayer Buffy was familiar with. "I am Ula, the spirit of the First Slayer," she said.

"Pleased to meet you," said Spike, automatically.

"Don't be," said Buffy bitterly. "She wants me to kill you to activate the power. Seems Grelin would have done the job but unfortunately, he's not here."

Matthew had lapsed into a lethargic trance but he roused at this. "I couldn't even get that right?" he murmured. "Sorry."

Ula glided over to him. "You are dying," she said bluntly but not without some sympathy. His eyelids flickered in acknowledgment. "Then it's really quite simple." She turned to Buffy. "Kill him instead. He won't mind; it would be doing him a favour, and it will save your boyfriend."

Buffy's eyes flashed. "No! The Slayer isn't a killer. Not now, not ever. I don't kill humans."

Frustrated impatience flashed across Ula's face and she shrugged. "Then the Slayer line ends here."

Spike opened his mouth, but, fortunately for the future of his relationship with Buffy, said nothing. It was left to Matthew to act and he did so with a desperation fuelled by the need to atone. His hand still clutched the stake that he had used to such effect. He turned it so that the point was towards him and then slid it into Buffy's hand. She gripped it automatically and then looked down at him. "What -?"

Matthew grabbed her wrist and with one last burst of strength forced the stake into his heart. Buffy screamed and dropped the wooden stake but it was too late. Matthew's face contorted with pain and then, quite simply, he died.

Spike sighed with relief at the tidy resolution, exchanging glances with the First and recognising that they shared a common emotion. Buffy was less pragmatic. The horror of what had happened broke over her like a wave, leaving her breathless and floundering. Buffy's head dropped into her hands and she began to sob. Spike started to drag himself over to her but Ula stopped him.

"Enough," she said with a cutting finality. "It is done. For another thousand years, the forces of darkness will meet you as they crawl from their graves. Through you, I will continue the work my father gave me. Thank you, Slayer."

Buffy raised a tear stained face. "You -" she choked. "You've made me a killer."

Ula nodded. "Yes. But I didn't do it today."

The figure vanished and the Slayer and the vampire were left alone on the ice.

Chapter Ten

 

Sunnydale. May 17.

Buffy and Spike arrived back where their journey had begun, in the training room at the Magic Box. It was dark and empty. They struggled to their feet, both weak, Spike from his injury, Buffy from emotion and blood loss. This time Spike's feeding had been almost desperate as his injured body took in sustenance. She had been on the point of hitting him to make him stop when his fangs slid out of her flesh and he let her wrist drop. The taste of his blood in her mouth made her feel sick and she walked over to the water cooler in the corner of the room and drank deeply.

"Not much of a welcome home, is it?" Spike asked flatly. "Sure it's eight days we've been away, not eight years?"

Buffy shrugged. "Let's go find out," she said, her tone mirroring his.

The shop was deserted and a glance at the clock told them why; it was eleven at night. The shop was locked up and they decided to use the tunnel leading from the basement to go to Spike's crypt. As they walked, Spike began to chuckle. "What is it?" asked Buffy, not sounded as if she cared all that much.

Spike grinned. "Just thinking about the last time I saw Grelin. It's no wonder he was so keen to get his hands on Angel but I don't suppose he minded getting a chance to kill me either."

Buffy sighed. "Go on then; tell me why."

Spike began to talk, his voice almost dreamy as he sauntered along. " I told you about the first time Angel and Grelin tangled. Before I was born, that was. Darla cut him and he disappeared for a while. He popped up again not long after I'd been turned. We were still in London and I couldn't figure out why they were so scared - they'd won, hadn't they? But Grelin was doing terrible things to people they knew, moving in closer and closer to them. Of course, Angel being Angel it wasn't long before he got angry instead. They set a trap for him, captured him just before sunrise." His voice quickened with amusement. "They left him with his tongue nailed to the door of St Paul's cathedral, stark naked. I think the humiliation of it hurt worse than tearing his tongue free. He got burned too but he made it. We never saw him again."

Buffy shuddered. Knowing what Angel had done in the past always disturbed her.

"Here we are," said Spike, leading the way up into his crypt. It was surprisingly tidy. "I asked Clem to keep an eye on it," said Spike. "Looks like he did a bit more than that. Want a drink or something?"

"I'm going home," Buffy said abruptly. "You stay here and rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Spike looked at her, reading her mood with uncanny accuracy. "You didn't kill him, Buffy."

She threw up a hand as if he had raised his fist, not his voice. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, her voice hard. She turned and walked to the door but Spike was there before her, his hand slamming it shut.

"So that's it? You're going to shut me out, put a door between us?"

"Can't you just give me some space, some time?" she hissed, looking at him as though she hated him. "It's been a long day. I'm really not up to more fun and games."

Spike flinched, his eyes showing the hurt that she'd wanted to inflict. He turned away and she felt the sick satisfaction of scoring a hit before the slump of his shoulders robbed her petty victory of any pleasure.

"Oh, God, Spike. I'm sorry," she began. "I didn't mean that."

She went to him, wrapping her arms around him, but he was as still and cold as ice. Stepping back, she watched in disbelief as he walked away from her and climbed down to his bedroom without a word or a glance.

For the second time in an hour, the Slayer felt tears sting her eyes but she didn't wait to see if Spike would be moved by them. An intense longing for her own home filled her and she left the crypt, moving as fast as she could, feeling strength returning to her body. She was almost at the cemetery gates when a trio of vampires stepped out of the shadows.

"Slayer's back, boys," said the biggest, a sneer on his vamped out face. "Thought you'd gone and left us. Guess you just couldn't stay away, huh?"

Buffy wiped away her tears, dropped her backpack on the ground and began to fight automatically, kicking, punching and pounding them. One she staked but as he dusted she fell and the big vampire landed on her, squashing her against the ground. Buffy felt a tree root dig into her spine, the tickle of grass against her face, breathed in the smell of the soil and knew that she had no strength left in her to fight. It was a mental weakness, not physical and it left her feeling strangely detached. As if pleading for her life, she stretched out her hand, brushing the face of the vampire as he snarled at her. Spittle dripped from his fangs and landed on her cheek. Sheer revulsion sparked a fury of hatred, shattering the shell of apathy that had formed around her, and Buffy screamed at him, a wordless cry that ended with one command - "Die!"

And he did. It began where her hand lay against his face, a redness beneath the skin that spread as a forest fire crackles busily through the dry bracken before erupting spectacularly to bring down the tall trees. When the magical flames had consumed all they wanted, they left him, exploding out of the hollow bag that had been his body and leaving Buffy staring up at a starry sky. The last vampire made an odd retching sound and turned to run. Buffy let him go. Moving as silently as a ghost, the tears drying into sticky tracks on her face, she went to find Giles.

***

Giles and Carlton were still awake but only just. Sipping appreciatively at a small selection of malts, they were reminiscing and making tentative plans for the future.

"I really need you back home," said Andrew. "Only for a short while; I can see that you're needed here, but your advice on a realistic training programme for both Watchers and Slayers would be invaluable. If you could spare the time -" He was interrupted by Buffy knocking on the door. Giles walked across and peered through the peephole to see who it was. When he saw Buffy, his face lit up with pleasure.

"Buffy!" he exclaimed, opening the door and ushering her in. "I wasn't expecting you back so early! Wonderful. Come in." As he took in her appearance and the fact that she was alone, he sobered, lowering his voice and shielding her from Andrew's gaze with his body. "Spike? Is he not with you?"

"Spike's fine," Buffy said dully. "I did what I had to, the power's back, we're back, everything's fine. Except it isn't and it never will be again." She hauled the Shield out of the pack she had been carrying for what seemed like days, not hours, and tossed it carelessly on the table. Carlton winced as it knocked into a bottle of Highland Park but remained silent. "She told me to keep that safe so I suppose you'd better have it. Slayers come and go but you lot are always around, aren't you?"

Giles looked at her thoughtfully, assessing his Slayer. He had seen her grieve, seen her despair but this seemed to go deeper than that. She was in shock and he moved quickly. Buffy found herself wrapped in a cover, huddled up in a soft armchair, hands clutching a warm cup of cocoa. Sipping at it automatically, she felt her body and mind calm as Giles' remedies and concern soothed her.

"Do you want to discuss it now, Buffy? It can wait until tomorrow, I'm sure," Giles said as he watched her pale cheeks flush pink again.

She shook her head, turning to stare at the empty fireplace. "There's so much to tell, I don't know where to start. You talk; how have things been here?"

Giles and Carlton exchanged rueful glances. "We had a visit from Ethan," said Giles, rubbing the bridge of his nose and looking slightly embarrassed. "I won't bore you with the details right now, but it seems he was working for Grelin. We managed to defuse a little surprise he had set up and we were holding him at your house, but well, -"

"He escaped," said Andrew. "I'm not sure how but one morning he had gone, taking with him all the cash he could find and leaving a decidedly rude note."

Giles nodded, throwing up his hands helplessly. "You know Ethan - not an easy chap to hold onto. Still, I doubt he'll continue to bother us if Grelin's dead - I assume he is dead?"

Buffy nodded and Giles smiled, his thoughts hidden behind his cool eyes. Ethan probably would have escaped in time but as it happened, he'd had an assistant. Giles had overheard him talking to Willow and had been shocked at the subtlety of his approach. The older mage had tried to lure the young witch into experimenting with the sort of spells that he and Giles had abused as teenagers. That Ethan should be so irresponsible was no surprise. That Willow should have been tempted had horrified the Watcher so much that he had weighed up the risks and decided that Sunnydale would be better off without Ethan around. Ever. When it came to it, he hadn't -quite- been able to kill him, but Ethan had left town under no illusions about his fate if he ever came near Willow again.

"Anyway," Giles continued smoothly, " all has gone well in your absence. Dawn had a B on a math test which sent her into paroxysms of delight, Xander finally put up the shelves in the basement for you and Anya's hair is now Sunset Sable. Or so she tells me. It's a brownish red." He smiled as Buffy looked fleetingly amused. "So, are you ready to tell us what happened?"

All his good work was undone by this simple question. Buffy's eyes filled up with tears and she brushed at them impatiently. "I've cried more today than I have since -" She stopped, not wanting to mention her mother's death. Taking a deep breath, she carefully put down her mug on a side table and stared at Giles. In a monotonous voice she began to describe what had happened in the Realm as Giles and Carlton listened, longing to interrupt and ask questions but prevented by a steely gleam in her eyes. She finished her recital by telling them about the vampire she had just killed, looking down at her hands as she spoke, holding them away from her body as if they were coated with filth.

"So, I'm no better than Faith and now I've got super powers to make killing people really easy," she said bitterly.

"Actually, that new increased power is transitory," began Giles. "A side effect of the freshening of the powers. We did some research whilst you were away. It should wear off in a day or two."

"So after that, I'll just be an ordinary murderer? That's a relief."

Giles opened his mouth to reassure her but as he did, the door opened and Spike appeared. "That's a load of bollocks, Slayer," he said, his voice hard.

Buffy's head shot up and she glared at Spike. "Don't try and make me feel better!" she said. "You were there, you saw -"

"I saw everything," said Spike flatly. "Even dusted the vamp you let go just now. I've been listening to you until I couldn't take any more. Pull yourself together, girl."

Giles surged to his feet, his eyes stormy but paused. Visibly restraining himself he raised an eyebrow at the vampire leaning casually against the door. Spike's lips were compressed and his face was drawn with pain but he held Giles' gaze without flinching. "Your Slayer's learned a lesson tonight. Should have been something you taught her on Day One. Guess you were too busy on the finer points of inserting stakes." Spike pushed himself away from his support and walked into the centre of room. He looked down at Buffy, still huddled in her chair and his face softened for a second. "She thinks she's a killer, Giles. Thinks those pretty little hands are dripping with blood and there's no getting them clean. But why is she only getting the message now, after what, six or seven years of Slaying?" He stared down at Buffy's woebegone face, blue eyes freezing her in place. "Why didn't she know that from the start?" He knelt down by her chair, a sudden movement that made her gasp. Gripping the arms of the chair, trapping her, he whispered, "You kill. You Slay. And you want to know something? You're bloody good at it, love. You really are."

Buffy's head began to move back and forth in a frantic rejection of his words. Carlton, his face filled with indignation and hostility, began to go towards Spike but Giles, wiser than his friend, held him back, watching the scene with keen eyes.

"The mistake you're making is in feeling guilty about it. You didn't kill Matthew; he used you to commit suicide. You should have killed him, mind you. Bloody silly time to have scruples if you ask me. But what you do, night in and night out - it's not something to feel guilt over. Killing is ending something and that's not always bad. Sometimes, like today, it's a kindness. Sometimes it's hard. But you're like a doctor curing an illness by killing disease, like a teacher killing ignorance by showing kids how to read - and you're the only thing standing between humans and a quick nasty death."

He shook his head, his hands sliding down to grip hers, holding them tightly. "They asked a lot of you, love. But that First Slayer was right. You're special. You can take it. You can take anything they throw at you and if something does get by you, I've got your back." His voice became grudging. "And I suppose those Scoobies of yours might come in handy now and then."

Buffy pulled her hand free and held it up to his face, her eyes shining with a new understanding and a deep love. She touched him gently and he held still, the air between them quivering with tension.

"Do you want to live?" asked the Slayer.