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Chapter 22: Third Time Lucky?

It was late and Buffy couldn’t find him. Willow hadn’t known where he was, and against her better judgment, Buffy had even gone to ask Sam, but she didn’t know either.

When he finally came home, it was still shy of midnight. Spike walked into Gunn’s darkened kitchen and went to the fridge.

“Hi,” she said softly from where she was sitting at the kitchen table.

He didn’t jump, but he did go still. Slowly he turned and faced her.

“Hi,” he replied, unable to meet her gaze.

Exhaustion had painted dark shadows under his eyes and this worried her. She wasn’t used to seeing Spike looking so emotionally tired. She didn’t like the slump to his shoulders or the downward cast of his face. It all reminded her of those horrible times in their relationship when she’d beaten him down, night after night. It made her sick to think back to those times. She couldn’t change them and she couldn’t erase them. But she could make sure that they never happened again.

“Where were you?” she asked.

He turned back to the fridge and grabbed a bag of blood and prepared it. Facing her, he leaned against the counter and crossed his legs at his ankles.

“The alley,” he murmured.

“Alley?” She shook her head in confusion. “What alley?”

He looked up at her. “The alley where me and Angel, Gunn, and Illyria fought that last battle. Where Angel and me died.”

Her heart ached for him. “And how did that go?”

“I thought it would be harder to go back there, to relive those moments, that fight. But it’s just an alley.” He shrugged.

“Why did you go?”

He looked up at her. “To say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

“Buffy, I can’t stay here,” he murmured. “I’m not sure what you’ve decided to do about Angel. I know that I can’t force your decision. I sort of figured out at some point that I couldn’t. Christ, I probably knew from the beginning. I never could force you to do anything, could I?”

She smiled gently at him and shook her head.

“But whatever you’ve decided to do - I can’t stay here.” He turned and stared out the window over the sink. The dark glass reflected nothing but the room behind him. He sighed and bowed his head.

Buffy stood up and went to him, wrapping her arms around Spike’s waist. She pressed her face into that spot between his shoulder blades and she felt the tension that held his entire body hostage. He held the weight of her world on his shoulders. And she really, really wanted to shift some of that weight from his shoulders to hers.

Spike didn’t reach for her hands clasped at his waist. He could smell that human all over her. On her hands, and in her hair; Liam’s scent hovered around her.

And it was killing him.

“I can’t live with Liam,” she whispered.

Spike stiffened further.

“I can’t stay here and play June Cleaver to his imaginary existence. That’s not who I am and it’s not what I want.”

“Buffy – you said –“

She squeezed him tighter. “Shut up and listen to me.”

He looked down at her hands resting on his abdomen. Such tiny hands. Small but strong; Buffy’s hands were a reflection of the rest of her. Psychics and palm readers might say that the story of one’s past and future lay in the palm of one’s hand. In Buffy’s case, her entire existence could be read in the muscles, tendons, and bones of her hands. It amazed him that she could kill one demon and make tender love to another one with those same hands.

“I’m trying to listen,” he muttered.

Buffy shook her head in exasperation. There were times, more than she could count, that Spike was impossible. But she’d rather have him impossible and infuriating than pliant and obedient. She trailed her eyes lovingly on the tender skin of the back of his neck. She loved that clean line where his platinum hair met his pale, soft skin. Strength and vulnerability. The thought of not having him in her life for any amount of time was enough to bring her to her knees.

“I’ve said a lot of things over the course of my life, and over the course of our relationship. And I’m not saying that you can disregard most of it, but I am saying that I’m not right all of the time and half the time I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing. But I’ve learned some things over these last few months.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. Her warm breath caressed the back of his neck and second by second, she felt him relax in her arms. “I love you with all my heart and soul,” she whispered. “And while I’m pretty sure that with time and practice I could learn to live without you, the most important thing to me is the fact that I can live with you. It’s hard to find someone you can commit to, someone you can live with everyday. What we have is a precious gift; a gift more important than any baby, any picket fence and any garden. I can’t live in a four bedroom bungalow with a fenced yard and my kind but boring professor husband. But I can live in my ramshackle house with my poet demon.”

“But the future,” he murmured.

“I don’t care how long we have,” she replied.

Turning in the loose circle of her arms, he stared down at her.

“But I do,” he said. “I can’t watch you grow old. I can’t stand by and watch it happen. I don’t have the strength and I’m tired, Buffy. I’m so tired.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. “I’m spent.”

His eyes, filled with tears, met hers. “Buffy, let me go,” he whispered. “I just want it to be over. I know you’ll get through, whatever you decide. You’re stronger now than you’ve ever been. And Angel or no Angel, Buffalo or Rome or Boston, whatever, you’ll pull through. But it’s over for me. I just want to rest.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “Spike,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“Let me go.”

“Where will you go?”

He shrugged and backed away from her. “I’m not quite sure where souls like mine go.”

“Souls? Spike, what the hell are you talking about?”


“Death,” he explained. “I want it to be over.”

She shook her head. “No! No freaking way! I’m not letting you do this!” She reached for him, but he kept backing away.

Sam and Willow stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m doing it,” Sam said. There were no tears in her eyes. Her voice was steady and firm. Her gaze, as it settled on Spike, was calm. “I’ll do it.”

“This is ridiculous!” Buffy yelled. She grabbed Spike. “I’m not letting you go!”

He pulled away from her and he looked at Sam. “You’ve got something to do it with?”

“No!” Buffy screamed. She stared at Willow in a panic. “Willow, do something!” Buffy said as she lunged for Sam. And Willow did something. She muttered a spell, stopping Buffy in her tracks. Buffy shot her a betrayed glance.

“It’s what he wants,” Willow said. “For once, Buffy, this needs to be about giving Spike what he wants.”

“Peace,” Spike whispered.

Sam reached behind her and grabbed the stake she kept tucked into the waistband of her jeans; she held it loosely in front of her.

Spike looked relieved and relaxed, as if finally, there was a light at the end of the long tunnel of his life. He walked over to Buffy where she stood frozen in Willow’s spell. He reached out and gently ran a finger down her cheek, a hand over her silky hair. “You were my one and my only, Slayer. The other half of my soul. The poet in me worshiped you and the demon in me loved you.” He leaned forward and kissed the tears that poured down her cheeks, one after another, before settling on her lips. “You were the only one, Buffy. And no matter where I end up, in heaven or in hell, you will forever be the only one.”

Glancing over at Willow, he asked, “Will you say goodbye to the others for me? I’d – I’d love to, I don’t know, call them or write them a note -but I’m afraid the Bit would try and talk me out of this.”

Willow smiled through her tears. She reached out and hugged him. “I will.”

He turned to Sam. “Don’t miss,” he said with a lopsided grin.

She shook her head. “I won’t.”

He held open his arms, making himself a better target. “I couldn’t ask for a better staker, you’re the best, Kansas. Right through the heart and don’t hold back, pet. Send it through to the other side.”

Stepping up to him she pressed her cheek against his.

“NO!” Buffy screamed. “Don’t you fucking dare! I will kill you!”

“The witch won’t let her,” Spike whispered in Sam’s ear, his blue eyes gleaming. “Besides, in a few years, you’ll be able to take her.”

“I love you,” Sam replied for his ears only.

“I know.” Remembering another death scene, another slayer proclaiming her love. He would do better this time. “I love you too.” He didn’t need to specify that he loved her in the same way that he loved Willow and Dawn. It was evident in the way she looked at him that she knew the truth of it.

She raised her hand, her eyes locked with his. Then she brought the stake down with all her might, through his chest and heart, right through to the other side.

“SPIKE!”

Buffy’s cry shattered the silence as Spike’s body arched in a paroxysm of agony and then exploded into a cloud of dust.

The spell Willow had cast broke and Buffy fell to her knees. She knelt there in the kitchen, panting, trying to get her bearings. Then she looked up at Willow. All the tears were gone. All the anger was erased from her face.

“How did I do? Was I convincing?” she asked.

Willow shook her head in amazement and lent a hand down to help Buffy up. “It was an award worthy performance. He didn’t have a clue.”

Sam stared at them in shock.

“She knew the whole time,” she murmured. Her eyes locked with Willow’s. “You told her. He made you promise not to tell her and you told her.”

“I had to, it was part of my plan,” Willow replied.

“What about Spike’s plan?” Sam asked, her voice harsh and thick with emotion.

“Spike’s plan is a part of my plan as well,” Willow explained. “Sam, this is bigger than you could possibly begin to imagine.”

Buffy dusted her hands off and frowned. “Come on, enough talking, let’s get on with this.”

Willow stared at Sam. “Give me the stake,” she ordered.

There was an authority to her tone that ensured no resistance. Sam handed the stake over wordlessly.

Looking at Buffy, Willow said, “This is going to work.”

“It better,” Buffy bit out. “I happen to be at a point in my life where I actually want to live.”

“What the hell-“

“Shut up,” Willow ordered Sam.

Willow handed the talisman to Buffy. “It will guide you through the dimensions to him.”

Buffy looked down at the small ring. She ran her finger gently over it, tracing its never ending circle. “What is it made of?”

“When Spike comes back, he might just kill me,” Willow said with a small smile. “It’s a piece of his leather coat. Inside are strands of his hair, some lavender for protection and some sage for guidance.”

Buffy slid it on to the ring finger of her left hand. A perfect fit. “One ring to bind them…” she said with a laugh. “Andrew and Xander would love this part.”

Willow smiled at her. “They would totally.” She stepped forward and pulled her best friend close. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Buffy replied. “Why are we getting maudlin? This is going to work; I’m going to see you like in five minutes. That’s about as much time as it’s going to take me to kick some PTB ass and make sure they give me Spike.”

Willow chuckled. “I’ll see you back in Buffalo.” Not knowing exactly when or where the PTB would return Buffy to, they had agreed that following the spell, Willow would take Sam back to Buffalo where they would explain what they’d done to the rest of the gang and then wait. Neither Buffy nor Willow had any doubts that the plan would work.

It had too.

Stepping back, Willow looked down at the stake’s bloody tip and then she closed her eyes and raised it up high.

“Goddess of love, Goddess of life, Goddess of fate. I call on all three of thee. Take this soul and take this blood and by the power of three, guide her to her beloved. By the light of dusk, noon, and dawn, light her path and to her beloved’s side let her be drawn. By the power of sky, earth and sea protect her soul and when her task has ended, bring it back to me. By the power of the moon, sun and stars I petition thee.” Willow’s eyes when they opened, were glowing. She smiled at Buffy. “Blessed be your journey.” Then, with the power of magic, she brought the stake down and slammed it into Buffy’s chest.

Buffy’s body, like Spike’s, arched and lifted off the ground. But the similarities ended there. Instead of dust, Buffy’s body exploded into millions of tiny flares of light, like a gorgeous firecracker exploding in a midnight sky. Each particle of light glowed for a second, like a firefly. Then they winked and were gone.

Willow looked over at Sam.

The girl was pale and trembling. She didn’t look anything like the fierce slayer who had offered to drive a stake through the heart of the demon she adored. Now, she just looked like the scared farm girl she used to be.

Willow went over to her and pulled her into her arms. “Trust me,” she murmured. “They will both be fine.”