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Chapter 23: Wind Beneath my Wings

Spike knew what to expect this time around. He wasn’t as surprised by the pain. He knew now that death by stake wasn’t quick and painless. Sure, it took less time than burning to ash, but it still hurt like bloody hell. At this point, his third time dying as a vampire, Spike knew there was really no good way to go.

Again, there had been the stab to the heart, the fire spreading through his body and then poof, millions of exploding dust molecules bursting in the air. And again, that wasn’t the end of it.

Here he was, proof for the third time, that those millions of dust molecules somehow reunited and he’d fallen through a blinding firestorm of light and wind before landing on something soft and comfy. He looked around.

“Bleeding hell,” he whispered harshly. He wanted to weep, he was that full of gratitude. The witch was brilliant. Her ridiculous plan had worked.

Spike found himself, once again, in the octagon shaped room with its ring of thrones.

Only this time, the thrones were not empty.

The witch had gotten him here, the rest, he guessed, was up to him.

This time the Goddess that had granted him and Angel their second chance was relegated to a spot somewhere along the right wall. She was at least four chairs away from the central throne where, Spike assumed, the big Kahuna of powers reigned.

“William the Bloody,” the Power in charge said calmly. He sat straight in his throne, his long silver hair spilling over his shoulders. The God’s face was young; there were no fine lines and nothing to indicate his age. But the power he exuded spoke of millenniums.

“That’s me. Or what used to be me,” Spike muttered resentfully.

“We brought you back after you saved the world by closing the Sunnydale hellmouth,” the God said.

“Yeah, and about that,” Spike said angrily. “Can you explain it?”

“You were needed in L.A.”

“By Wolfram & Hart?” Spike asked. “I didn’t appreciate being used as a pawn in their crazy arse chess game.”

The God shook his head. “It wasn’t the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart that brought you back. It was us. You were needed in L.A.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Well then! That explains just everything, that does. Get bent!”

The God smiled and he glanced over at the Goddess who had dealt with Spike and Angel previously. “I see your fascination with him. He’s not only useful, he’s entertaining.”

“Still here,” Spike shouted. “Still standing fucking here!”

The God turned to him. “It is three times now that you have chosen an unselfish death - that you have died to ensure the safety or the happiness of others.”

“Yeah, you git, and I’m bleeding tired of it. So I not so kindly ask you all to let this be the last sodding time!” For a moment, Spike wondered if he was overplaying his part. He didn’t know what they wanted, all he wanted was an end to the games and really, going down arguing and fighting was more his style.

The God shook his head. “We have one last job for you to do.”

Apparently, he’d overplayed his part. Spike closed his eyes and felt the tears burn and his shoulders shook as he tried to suppress them. He’d never been a stranger to begging and it seemed he was going to have to beg one last time.

Before he could slip to his knees and start, the room filled with a blinding white light. The Gods and Goddesses shifted uneasily in their thrones, voicing their confusion and anger at the interruption. When the light and smoke cleared, they stared in shock at the body crouched on the floor at their feet.

“What the hell?” Spike said as he watched the body unfold and stand up. “Buffy?”

She turned and grinned at him, her smile lighting the room as brightly as her arrival had. “Hey, fancy seeing you here.”

Staring at her in disbelief, Spike said, “How? What in God’s name are you doing here?”

“Willow,” she replied. She went over to him and gently caressed his cheek with her hand.

“That witch,” he cursed. “She told you about the plan.”

Buffy grinned. “Well, actually, she told me the whole plan. What she told you was only the half of it.”

He shook his head. “She played me.”

“We knew it was the only way.”

“How did you get here?”

“A spell and a stake,” Buffy explained. “And let me tell you, death by stake – much more unpleasant than drowning or falling through a ring of fire.”

As she spoke, Spike began to understand. “The witch and her magic threes,” he murmured in dawning understanding.

“Exactly. We’d both already died twice, so this was the third time for both of us.” She held up her hand with the black leather band and grinned. “So Willow sent me after you.”

Spike took her hands in his. “But why?”

Buffy reached up and pressed her cheek against his. “Because you aren’t the only one who is capable of dying in order to save your beloved. I’m here,” she murmured, her voice filled with warmth and love, “to save you this time.”

The God in charge cleared his throat and Buffy turned to face him, her hand slipping down and tightly clasping Spike’s.

“This is highly unusual,” the God said, his voice deep and commanding. “And quite impossible.”

“What do you mean?” Spike asked softly, but remembering the scene with Angel, he felt a sickening sense of inevitability.

“There should not be two of you,” the God explained. “Spike is our agent of change and he is our tool to command and use.” He looked at Buffy, a curious expression on his face. “But you, Slayer, you are the anomaly here. We are not prepared or willing to deal with you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked angrily. She took a step towards the head of the Power Council before Spike held her back, sending her a look filled with reproach and caution.

“Buffy!” he hissed.

She shook her head at him and pulled her hand from his. “No! No freaking way! You’ve gone through hell and back at their command and done everything they’ve asked you to. I’ve followed you here to petition them and goddamn it, they are going to listen to me!”

“Buffy-“

She held up her hand, her eyes blazing with righteous indignation and fury. “Not prepared to deal with me? Not willing to deal with me?” She turned to face the God down, glaring at him. She pointed at him. “You are going to deal with me – do you understand?”

“Buffy-“

She shot Spike a glance of annoyance. “Not no-“

“Buffy! Shut up!” he finally yelled.

She shut up and stared at him. He turned to the Powers, looking at each one of them. “Whatever you decide to do,” he said softly, his gaze settling finally on the God in charge. “Let her say her piece.” He looked back at Buffy and smiled. “She needs to do this. Calmly.” He took her hand and pulled her to his side and then together, they faced the God.

“Say your piece,” he commanded. His fellow Powers leaned forward in anticipation.

Buffy didn’t even flinch. If anything, she straightened up a bit more and tightened her grip on Spike’s hand.

“Spike is not your agent of change or your tool to do with as you please. He has a heart and soul and human will and he shouldn’t be at the mercy of your whims,” she began. “You had sent him back after his death in L.A. to supposedly save me, to help me find myself, to bring me back into my full power. Is that correct?”

The God nodded, unsmiling, glancing over at the Goddess who had sent Spike on his last endeavor.

“Well, if you consider that job done, then you are sadly mistaken,” Buffy said smugly.

The God’s stoic demeanor cracked and he frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “It’s quite simple really; I’m not ‘cured’ or ‘saved’. The only way I can reach my full power and my full potential is if I have Spike at my side. He is my heart, he is a part of my soul, and he is the root and the seat of my power. Quite simply,” and here she paused and smiled, glancing over at him with a twinkle in her eyes, “he is the wind beneath my wings.”

Spike’s eyes widened and he bit back a burst of laughter. Ducking his head he pressed his fist against his mouth to hold back more laughter.

The God sat back in his throne and the rest, taking their cues from him, did the same. He stared at Buffy, turned to look at Spike, and then shifted his gaze back to Buffy.

“She pleads her case well,” he murmured. “William the Bloody, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I love her,” Spike whispered. “And the world deserves her. She says she needs me in order to exist, and as I’ve told her, I highly doubt that.” He glanced over at her. “Pet, you’re stronger than any woman I know and you can survive without me.” Turning away from the growing anger on her face, he looked at the God and continued. “But she shouldn’t have to. Don’t do this to her and don’t do it to me. I’ve done what you’ve asked and if there’s any chance at all that you can send me back under her conditions, then please, please do.”

The God turned back to Buffy. Before he could even ask her, she was talking. Again, he thought to himself with an amused sigh.

“Don’t do it for me, do it for him,” she said earnestly. “He has a beautiful soul. He has a generous heart. He touches all those around him, filling their lives with hope and life and laughter. The world deserves him, it needs him!” Her eyes filled with tears, finally betraying her desperation. “I need him,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

The God bowed his head to hide his smile and he muttered something under his breath that to Spike, sounded suspiciously like, “They’re both impossible.”

Then the God, much to the surprise of the other Powers, stood up. He stepped down from the throne and walked over to Spike. Not knowing what else to do, Spike fell to his knees before him, pulling Buffy down with him. She went, unwillingly.

“William the Bloody, rise.”

Spike looked up at him.

“Oh get up!” one of the seated Gods whispered.

Spike struggled to his feet, pulling Buffy’s grumbling form back up to his side.

The God placed his hands on Spike’s shoulders. “William the Bloody. You are forgiven for all your crimes,” he intoned.

Spike felt the heat spread from where the God touched his shoulders, through to each extremity, each limb. It was like warm, liquid honey sliding through his veins. Spike had a dim memory of what it felt like to have blood coursing through his veins and this – this was it. He gasped.

“William, we have one last job for you,” the God said with a gentle smile.

Spike stared up at him, trembling as the blood poured through his veins.

“William, your final job is a very difficult one, probably the most difficult of your existence.” The God’s smile widened. “Your final job is to live. To live and to love and to feel joy.”

Tears sparkled in Spike’s eyes. “Really?” he whispered.

The God smiled. “Really,” he said. “I command it.” He laid his hand over Spike’s heart and whispered words of joy and love.

Spike’s flesh softened and warmed. His heart kicked in, pounding and pumping all that fresh, new blood. His pale face flushed and he gasped as pure joy flooded his soul.

“You will return to earth, in this new human form,” the God commanded.

Spike looked startled. “Shanshu?”

The God shook his head. “No, this has nothing to do with any prophecy. This is our gift to you.” He turned and smiled at Buffy. “Our gift to the both of you.”

Spike looked around the room, the Gods and Goddesses smiled benignly at them.

The God took Spike’s hands. “We will return you to your life, to Buffalo. There is no blank slate. You have earned your existence and your redemption and it makes you who you are. We would not change that. It is that that earned you the love and respect of your friends.”

Spike grinned, feeling the joy pound through him with every beat of his heart. “You’re not sending me another ten years into the future are you? Cause that, that was ridiculous.”

The God shook his head, a mischievous smile playing across his handsome face. “No, Spike.”

Along with the hope and joy, Spike was regaining a bit of his cockiness. “So I’m going to be a real boy again?”

The God nodded.

“Can I keep my super human strength and healing powers?”

The God looked surprised; he hadn’t expected that.

Spike shrugged. “Look, I got to keep up with the slayer.” He gestured to Buffy who was watching the proceedings with a huge smile of pride. “There’ll be demons to kill and humans to protect. It’s not like I was gifted with superior intelligence, what do you say – let me keep my strength?”

The God glanced around the circle, pausing at each of his followers. One by one, they nodded. He turned to Spike.

“Spike, you will be granted a human life, but you will retain your vampire strength and healing powers. But do not ever forget, you are a human, with a human’s frailty. You will no longer be immortal.”

Spike grinned and nodded. “Sounds good.” He turned to Buffy and pulled her into her arms and crushed her mouth with a kiss. “You did it, Slayer,” he murmured against her mouth.

Her arms locked around his neck. “We did it, together.”

“Wind beneath my wings, eh?” he asked with a grin.

“I think I will have that as our wedding song,” she murmured.

A thought suddenly occurred to Spike and he spun around to face down the Powers for one last time. “She’s coming with me right? Cause if she isn’-“

The God held up his hands, a smile breaking across his face. “You both deserve each other,” he said. “You’ve both shown your love, your strength and your nobility through your sacrifices. You are both going back. Besides, we don’t want her here. We’re not quite – how shall I put it – equipped for someone of Buffy’s nature.”

Buffy looked indignant, but Spike’s brilliant smile filled her entire heart and soul.

The God laid one hand on Spike’s shoulder and the other on Buffy’s. “Blessed be, William Pratt. Blessed be, Buffy Summers.”

In a split second, the bright and pristine room smelling softly of roses and orange blossoms was gone.

***

Buffy hit the ground hard. She stood up and looked around, gasping.

“Where the hell-“

She was standing at the edge of the crater that used to be Sunnydale. Glancing down into the canyon, she wavered dangerously on the edge and then stumbled back.

Back in Sunnydale? Back where it had all started?

Back, Buffy realized suddenly, where she had ended. The PTB had sent her back to where she’d died. Back to Sunnydale.

“Spike?” she yelled, looking around. “Spike?” Her voice echoed across the canyon. There was no answer.

“Oh. My. God!” she screamed, shaking her head. She stomped her foot into the dirt for good measure. “Oh my freaking God! Will they ever stop playing around with us?” She patted the pockets of her coat, praying that she hadn’t lost her cell phone during her inter dimensional travel. She sighed in relief when she found it. With shaking, fumbling hands, she turned it on and held it up.

“Signal, come on…” she prayed impatiently. “Come on…give me a signal!”

The tiny bars appeared and she sent a prayer to the great cell phone Gods. Quickly, she dialed Willow.

“Hello? Buffy?”

“Willow !” Buffy yelled into the phone. “Willow, it’s me!”

“Buffy!” Willow squealed back. In the background Buffy could hear Dawn and Xander calling out. “Thank God! Where are you?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Sunnydale! The freaking PTB sent me back to Sunnydale!”

“What? Where’s Spike?”

“He’s not there with you?”

The silence on the other end of the phone was not reassuring. “No,” Willow yelled back over the bad connection. “We haven’t heard from him. We’ve been waiting to hear from both of you.”

“How much time has gone by?” Buffy asked, her heart sinking.

“Three weeks.”

Three weeks? But - think Buffy! Think!

“Willow – they said they wouldn’t send us forward in time,” Buffy yelled. She tried to remember the God’s exact words. What had he said?

“It’s been three weeks Buffy,” Willow replied.

“They sent me to Sunnydale three weeks ahead,” Buffy said. She smacked herself in the head. “He only said that he wouldn’t send us ten years into the future! God damn them!” Her head hurt trying to wrap itself around the concept.

“Clever,” Willow said.

“Clever my ass,” Buffy muttered. “Where and when the hell did they send Spike?”

“I don’t know,” Willow said. “But, Buffy, he’ll find you. No matter what, he’ll find you. Come home.”

Buffy looked around the deserted canyon. “How?”

Willow chuckled and her relief came across the crackling phone line. “I’ll call Gunn. Hold tight and he’ll be there in a couple hours.”

***

Spike hit the ground hard. He stood up and looked around, gasping.

“What the hell-“

It was the alley. The alley where he’d died with Angel. It looked different and it took Spike a split second to realize why.

The alley was bathed in sunlight. The noon hour sun was high over the building, washing away the alley’s dark corners and sparking off the rusted edges of the dumpsters. Spike winced as the bright light flooded his eyes.

“Bleeding hell!” He flinched and then realized that it was simply the natural heat of the sun he was feeling and not the burning of hell’s fires. “Bleeding hell!” he yelled, but this time it was a cry of joy. Tilting his face up to the sun, he felt the heat of it for the first time since he’d worn the ring of Amara. He spread out his arms and turned, looking around. “Buffy! Buffy it feels bloody fantas-“

The alley was empty. He was alone.

“Buffy?” he yelled. “Buffy?”

There was no answer.

Spike took off at a run.