“This is a bad idea,” Willow said for the thousandth time. “This idea is so bad I don’t know why I’m not driving a stake through it right now.”

“Look, I agree it’s risky, but what choice do we really have?” Spike said, striding along so fast that Willow was half-running to keep up. “Hellmouths give off energy that gives spells and such a little kick-start. Hopefully sitting bang on top the Sunnydale one will be enough to make it work.”

“If we use another Hellmouth we could end up absorbing that as well, and then we would have two Hellmouthed people running amok – or one person with a double Hellmouth running amok. I’ve seen what one Hellmouth can do; I really don’t feel like fighting two. Buffy’s going to kill me for letting you do this.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take any blame she has to throw around. Oh, bugger.” Spike stopped dead and Willow accidentally ran into him. “When did they start re-building the school?”

-----

He had been ready for them.

When Anya and Tara had tried to distract Pratt Sr., he’d turned round to see Giles creeping up behind him and sent a lightning-bolt in his direction that melted the tranquiliser gun into a puddle.

Buffy ripped a post out of the car park floor, thinking perhaps she could clonk him on the head with it while he was distracted, but he sent her flying again. The post landed on her own head, leaving her dazed for a minute.

Come on, Will, she thought in desperation. It wouldn’t be long until they had no choice left.

-----

“Ready?” Spike said.

Willow just glared at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes. What first?”

She sighed, resigned. “All right. Let’s do this.” She handed him a knife and pointed to the instructions in the book laid before him.

Spike barely winced as he cut shallow slits down his arms, his blood trickling down them and dripping onto the floor of the new Principal’s office. “Blood to blood,” he murmured, “bring me the power.”

Willow, grimacing as she did so, touched Spike’s arms to get his blood on her hands and then grasped his hands as she said the appropriate Latin words three times. On the third, rather than giving a small explosion, there was a great rumbling and they both gasped.

-----

“Buffy, we’ve got to get out of here!” Giles yelled from several feet away.

She knew he was right. They were on the ground floor of a multi-storey car park, and Pratt had done so much damage it looked as if the other five floors were going to come down on them any second.

He didn’t seem to realise this, and the last thing Buffy wanted to do was leave Spike’s father to die.

Reasoning with him hadn’t worked. Force had not worked. Buffy was on the point of screaming in frustration when a great rumbling froze everyone to the spot, even Pratt.

A sizzling bolt of light engulfed him and he screamed. The others all stared. It looked as if something was being dragged out of him and up through the roof out of their sight.

“Willow,” Buffy whispered. “Yes! She did it!”

The light finally faded and Pratt dropped to his knees. Buffy rushed over. He was clutching his head as if he had a migraine the size of California.

“Are you all right?” she said gently.

He looked up, but there was more confusion in his eyes than pain. “I don’t know – I – what’s going on? Where am I? Who are you?”

Buffy knelt down in front of him. “I’m a friend of your son’s – of William.”

His eyes widened. “William – Anne – are they safe?”

“William’s safe,” Buffy promised. “You’ll see him soon.”

The relief that spread over his face was short-lived.

“What about my wife?”

A lump arose in her throat.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pratt. She’s dead.”

He buried his face in his hands again. Before Buffy could find the words to comfort him, a hand closed around her upper arm and pulled her aside.

“What’s happened to the Hellmouth?” Giles said.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is that he’s clean. Look at him, Giles.”

“Why did you tell him his son was safe?”

“Because, his son is -” Buffy stopped, and altered her sentence. “Over there, sporting a Hellmouth.”

Giles, Anya and Tara whirled around. Buffy was frozen to the spot.

Spike had appeared in a bolt of lightning. A shiver ran down Buffy’s spine. He was engulfed in the Hellmouth energy as his father had been, and his eyes were pure black.

Spike, what have you done?

Behind Buffy, Pratt had shakily stood and gasped as he laid eyes on his son. Spike ignored him at first, raising a hand to stare at the energy crackling around it. For a moment, Buffy saw his eyes change to normal, before they darkened again.

He’s fighting it, she realised. Maybe all was not lost.

“Spike?” She dared take a step forwards. Giles made to grab her arm but she moved out of his reach. “Spike, it’s me. It’s Buffy.”

Giles, Anya and Tara seemed to be having a hushed argument about what to do now. Buffy blocked their voices out. Spike noticed her, and his eyes flashed normal again.

“Look who’s here,” she tried, gesturing towards Pratt.

“William?” Pratt whispered.

Spike’s eyes flashed again, for longer this time. For that moment, the look on his face was of shock. But when his eyes darkened, so did his expression. With one hand, he sent his father flying backwards into the others. “Good enough for you now am I, Daddy?” he practically snarled.

Buffy had forgotten about those unresolved issues Spike had mentioned earlier. Better move to Plan B.

She drew nearer still. “Spike, look at me.”

He did so, still out of black eyes. Buffy didn’t flinch or draw back; instead, she grew slowly closer.

“You won’t hurt me, Spike.”

The energy gently grazed her, but Spike seemed to be listening and wasn’t attacking.

“Look in my eyes.” He did so. “I’m not afraid of you. I know you don’t want to hurt me. You love me.”

She stepped right up to him and hesitated. “And I - I love you too.”

This time, his eyes stayed normal, although she could see he was still wrestling to gain control.

“You don’t want to hurt me,” she repeated. “Think about what you do want, Spike.”

Buffy and the others jumped, as Spike let out a gasp and fell to his knees. The lightning-like energy looked almost as if it was electrocuting him. Before Buffy could otherwise react, it subsided completely. No crackling at all. Just Spike, gasping on the ground.

He looked up. As he met Buffy’s eyes, she knew immediately that he was in total control.

“What happened?” he whispered.

“I don’t know.” Buffy grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet. Turning, she saw the others hovering warily, unsure what to do or say. Pratt was leaning on Giles with one arm over his shoulder, and still staring at Spike as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Anya spoke first. “We’ve gotta go. Now.”

They ran, the car park coming down around them. Once out of harm’s way, there was complete and total silence for several minutes. Until Spike finally said in disbelief, “D-Dad?”

Pratt seemed to be searching for the words. Eventually, the question that came out of his mouth was, “What on earth have you done to your hair?”

-----

Spike couldn’t stop pacing, his face anxious. Nobody had spoken since they’d arrived at the hospital. Buffy and Tara had already been treated for various minor bumps and bruises, and now they were all waiting for news to come of Pratt.

“He’ll be okay,” Buffy said, desperate to try and make him feel better.

“My father absorbed a Hellmouth, lay underground for a sodding century, destroyed half of Sunnydale, was thrown twenty feet by said Hellmouth, and then nearly had a bloody car park fall down on his head.” Spike glared at her. “And you expect him to be okay after that, do you?”

“Look, I was just trying to help.”

He sighed and slumped into a plastic chair. “I know. Sorry.”

Willow ran into the waiting room. “Thanks goodness I’ve found you! Spike and I did the spell and he got the Hellmouth and then he just disappeared -” She spotted Spike. “Wait, where is it?”

“Good question,” Giles said.

Willow looked around at the rest of them. “Who are you guys waiting for?”

“William Pratt. Senior,” Buffy added. “He’s Spike’s dad.”

Willow started to say that she knew that, but Spike interrupted. “Eric.”

“What?”

“His name’s Eric.”

Buffy frowned. “Thought that was his middle name?”

“’Tis, technically. Everyone’s always called him Eric, though.” Spike shrugged.

At that moment, a nurse entered the waiting-room. “Excuse me … Which of you is William?”

-----

“A vampire.”

“Yeah.” Spike forced himself to meet his father’s eyes. Eric looked a little pale, but otherwise seemed all right. “Got turned in my twenties.”

Eric rubbed his eyes wearily. “And … your mother …?”

Spike swallowed. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the full truth. Instead, he said, “She had tuberculosis.”

His father sighed. “This is so much to take in. I – I don’t know how to handle this.” Spike knew it must have taken Eric a lot to admit that. “Did she – suffer?”

“No.” Spike shook his head. “She died in her sleep with me beside her.”

“I should have been there,” Eric murmured. “William, I’m so – so sorry for leaving you and your mother. I should have stayed -”

“No, Dad, it’s all right. You saved the world for us, even if it wasn’ in the way you tried to. If you had stayed, we and the rest of the world would have died over a century ago.” Spike gave a wobbly smile. “I understand that.”

Eric clasped Spike’s shoulder. “I am just relieved that I still have you now – I never thought I would see you again.” He frowned slightly. “William, are you all right? You’re very cold.”

“Vampire, Dad, remember? I’m cold, have no pulse, no reflection, and react badly to sunlight. And other things.”

“Oh.” Eric paused. “Strange, I never thought creatures of the night existed.”

“Thought you were some kind of sorcerer?”

Eric raised his eyebrows. “Who told you that?”

“A book. How did you know to try and close the Hellmouth?”

“Well, I have never really been – involved, I suppose, with the supernatural world. It seems I have only experienced a small corner of it.” Eric thought for a moment. “If you have no pulse or heartbeat, how exactly are you alive?”

“Well, technically, I’m not.” This conversation was getting awkward.

“But then, how …”

“Dad, why don’t you just don’t try to understand it, okay?”

“But I – how do I know -”

“Look, just feel it for yourself.” Spike held out his arm, and Eric hesitantly touched two fingers to his wrist.

“William,” he said slowly.

“Yeah?”

“You said you don’t have a pulse.”

“Yeah …”

“Then why can I feel one?”

TBC …

AN: Just the epilogue now! This one turned out shorter than I planned. The next one, This Way Comes, will be quite a bit longer though.