Chapter 34 - Faithful

Flat on his back, Spike stared up at the tombstones surrounding him, marveling at their artistry. They jutted skyward, different heights, widths and shapes chiseled lovingly by the hands of the broken hearted, cutting their grief into stone. He took a deep breath and rolled over onto his stomach, pulling his coat from beneath him as his mind filled with thoughts of Buffy. The last thing Spike ever wanted to see again was her name etched on a tombstone.

He had to get back to her as fast as he could.

Jerking himself up to his knees, he tried to get a handle on where he was. Definitely a cemetery and from the smell of it, one he knew well. Then he sussed it out. He was in Sunnydale, near his crypt.

Maybe it was a good sign he was back in a familiar place, he hoped as he hugged his coat around his chest. Then his eyes widened as he stared at the leather in his hands. When had he found his coat? He glanced down at the rest of his attire; black jeans, black t-shirt, black boots. The shirtless look was gone. He rubbed his hand over his brow. No dripping sweat, either. His skin wasn't hot anymore.

His days as a living, breathing vampire were coming to an end.

The shift had begun in the park. He'd felt something unusual, but he'd ignored it. Had too many other things pressing on his mind, like having his fingers wrapped around Tara's throat. Then he'd been fighting Luke and later, Jacob had showed up. After that, he couldn't rightly remember the sequence of events. Everything got muddled from that point on.

Now, crouched on his knees outside his crypt, he was certain of one thing, old Spike was making a comeback.

That could be good, or it could be bad. If the spell was over than maybe everything that had transpired was about to end. That meant everybody would be getting back to normal. No more Luke, Jacob, evil Willow, unreliable Tara or the oddness that had been Anya. It would also mean Buffy would be Buffy again, the slayer who would rather punch him in the jaw than kiss him. But as long as she wasn't hurt, he'd deal with it. Besides, that was the Slayer he loved.

Spike lifted his head slowly. The last picture he had of the park wavered before his eyes, shaking itself into clarity. Then he saw it. Dawn had snatched him into a portal. She'd gotten him away from Jacob and Tara. Whisked him up in her arms like he was a baby. But where was Dawn now? He looked around. He didn’t see her. It didn't smell her. She wasn't in the cemetery.

But sod it all, why had she grabbed him and not Buffy?

Groaning loudly, Spike struggled to his feet. His head felt like it was splitting in two. Definitely, an after effect of being churned inside out and upside down in Dawn's portal for God knows how long, he wagered.

Bloody Hell.

He had to get his wits about him. He couldn’t help Buffy from here.

“Spike?”

A woman’s voice called to him from behind a nearby gravestone. He stumbled toward the sound cautiously, thinking he recognized it. After the portal, his ears could be playing tricks on him. It might be Willow, unchanged and deadly, her mind still trapped in Shemhazi's hell.

“Spike?” said the woman. “You doing okay?”

It was Anya.

Staggering forward, he leaned on a tombstone suddenly queasy. He had hoped the voice belonged to Buffy. “Why am I here?”

“I think I brought you here.” Anya emerged from behind a tall monument, tugging at her skirt. “Well, it was either me, or me and Giles, or me and Xander, just not clear where the magic came from to pull you out of Dawn’s portal. Of course, there is always the possibility that Dawn released you because she knew she couldn’t get back to Buffy in time, but I’m not really….”

Spike raised his hand, stopping her breathless explanation. “Well, Pet, you got me here…some kind of way. Now get me back to the park so I can help Buffy.”

“It’s not that easy Spike.” She was ringing her hands together. “You’re here to fight another battle. Whoever wins this one will be able to go back to the park and fight along side whoever’s left standing.”

She walked toward him, her hands now resting at her side, her eyes averted to the night sky above. “The battle in the park in the fading sunlight is Buffy’s war.” She lowered her gaze and looked at him. “Your fight is here in the cemetery, in the moonlight.”

“Bollocks, Anya.” He searched the darkness. “Show me who it is I have to fight so I can get on with it.”

“Who have I played the pawn for from the beginning of this game?” Her face changed, her eyes anxious as the image of Anya began to shimmer and reshape.

In seconds, Spike was standing before a thin, pale man wearing a seersucker suit and white tennis shoes.

“Spike,” said Luke, grinning. “So glad you could come.”

Spike flew at the Portal Jumper, tackling him around the waist and knocking him to the ground. Spike’s anger fueled his punches as he pummeled Luke relentlessly. Slamming his face with his fists, Spike could feel his bones splinter beneath the blows. Then they were intertwined and rolling on the ground over and over until Spike, unleashing his demon with a roar, chopped down on Luke’s throat, tearing at Luke's neck with his fangs.

Maybe he didn’t need superhuman vampire skills to kick the Portal Jumper’s ass after all.

“Slow down, vampire.” Luke grabbed Spike’s face and pushed him back with a vicious shove. “I don’t need to fight like this. I am a man of words.”

“You’re a killer.” Spike was facing Luke, put off by his nonchalant tone, but deciding to play along nonetheless. Just in case he didn’t have a choice.

“Yes, I am. But so are you.” He leaped at Spike, battering his jaw with a series of punches.

Luke’s bony knuckles felt like knives slicing into Spike's skin.

Spike touched his face, hoping it was still there, but his eyes remained on Luke. Then he saw something he hadn’t seen before. Luke was bleeding. Thick red drops spurted from the Portal Jumper’s mouth. Spike had hurt him. Had drawn blood, from a bloodless creature. Spike ran at Luke with the fury of a thousand vampires, smashing and cutting the Portal Jumper with his fists and fangs.

Suddenly Luke was sinking into the lawn, getting smaller and smaller, dissolving before Spike’s eyes. “What's going on?” He said aloud.

“Nothing much,” muttered Luke. “Just time passing before your eyes.”

The Portal Jumper started shimmering again.

“Playing games in this world is a waste of time.” He said, his tone melancholy. “I can’t die, because I haven’t changed. I had thought traveling through the Key’s portal would make a difference, but no. It hasn’t. I am still what I will always be.”

“What does that mean?” said Spike, puzzled by what he was witnessing. “Hasn’t any of this meant anything to you?” He advanced on the fading Portal Jumper, stopping inches from his translucent face. “More people are going to die and you keep playing games.”

“Someone did die.” His voice was deafeningly loud. “Glorificus is dead. They killed her and this is what we’ve decided to do.”

“What do you mean?” Spike arched a brow. “By this?”

“Make the Watcher, the Witch, the Slayer and the Key wish they’d never lived.”

“Not likely,” Spike scoffed.

“Yes indeed likely. I’m killing what they loved best,” said Luke. “I figured that out in the park. That’s why I’m here. To claim some semblance of victory by killing the Slayer’s sister and her vampire.”

“Don’t go betting on that.” Spike clenched his fists and barred his fangs.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s true in this dimension, or not,” smiled Luke, his lip curling into a sneer. “Because right now, the Slayer is being shown your dead body and that of her sister’s. And in another dimension, Dawn is seeing the remains of her sister and her dear Carlo, spread like manure over the earth.”

Luke leaned close to Spike and whispered. “You know, that boy killed me off in one dimension. That’s why I turned him into shit.” Then he straightened. “These are my last illusions and they are my gifts to you, vampire.”

A murderous howl sprang from Spike’s throat as he leapt at Luke. He grabbed him with his hands, twisting his head from his neck. Then Spike reached into Luke's chest and pulled out the first thing his hands could grip. He crushed Luke’s heart in his fist and watched the blood dripping through his fingertips. It was the last he would see of the Portal Jumper in this world, Spike swore to himself.

Luke’s head and body disappeared into the dirt as Spike washed his hands in a nearby fountain. Spitting out whatever he’d bitten off from Luke’s neck, Spike had no taste for his blood and scrubbed his hands hard, rinsing away every trace of it. He didn’t want Luke’s blood on any part of his body.

As he dried his hands on his coat, he hoped he had a little superhuman vampire juice left in him, though. He’d need it if he had any chance of helping Buffy.

Then he remembered Anya’s departing words.

“Okay, I won. I beat the bastard,” shouted Spike to the empty spot where he’d last seen Anya. “Now, get me the bloody hell out of here and back to Buffy.”

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It was dark, the middle of the night. So late, the crickets and the night birds that usually sang outside her bedroom window were silent. The only sound was her breathing, jagged and harsh. It felt as if she’d run a marathon, except she’d been asleep, dreaming. At least, Dawn hoped she’d been dreaming because if what she’d done in her dream was real, she’d really screwed up this time.

Dawn sat up in her bed; something had made a sound outside her bedroom window. Had to be a cat on the roof, she thought as she patted her body, checking to make certain she was all there and not still dreaming. She touched her face. It was wet. She pulled down the thin sheet covering her body. Her t-shirt was sticking to her chest; sweat was dripping between her breasts. She looked at her legs. The cut-off jeans she was wearing were dirty and her bare feet were bruised black and blue and covered with drying mud.

She hadn’t been dreaming.

Jumping out of bed, Dawn ran to her bedroom window and pulled open the curtains, and squealed.

“God, Carlo,” she yelped. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? How did we get here?”

“It’s okay, Dawn.” He mouthed the words, gesturing for her to open the window.

Unlatching the lock, moving her fingers as fast as she could, Dawn jerked up the window. “What happened?”

“You did good.” He said, stepping through the window.

“Good?” she was puzzled. “God, please tell me what’s happened...and where is Buffy?”

“Babe, you jumped into a portal and out of the park, pulling Spike and Luke with you.”

Carlo limped past her, hobbling toward the bed. She hadn’t noticed at first, but he didn’t look so good. His t-shirt was ripped. He’d have two black eyes come morning, bruises covered his arms and neck and his jeans were shredded. But he’d said she’d jumped Spike and Luke out of the park. That didn’t make any damn sense.

“Why’d I do that?”

“I asked you to because it was the only way I could fight Willow.” He tried to smile as he plopped down on the bed. “Besides, I had to make certain you were safe.”

“But we left Buffy.” Dawn’s voice was shrill, but she couldn’t help that. She was afraid. Her sister wasn’t herself, hadn’t been herself in so long, well, not since they’d brought her back from the dead. She may not want to fight, to live.

“Wait,” Dawn hesitated, the thoughts going through her head too fast. These weren’t the thoughts she’d been having for the past six months. “The spell…it’s gone.” Realization made Dawn’s legs suddenly too weak and she dropped to the floor in a heap.

Carlo was at her side in an instant. “Yes, the spell, it’s gone.” He smoothed her hair, moving it away from her face. “But before the spell ended and you lost your portal jumping skill, you did all you could do. Believe me. Now, it’s up to Buffy and Willow, how this will end.”

“What do you mean?”

“It started with them.”

His face was so broken; she couldn't help reaching up and touching his cheek. “What happened to you?” she whispered.

“Got into a hell of a fight.” He half-grinned and then grimaced. “But it doesn’t matter about me, girl. You’ve got to listen now.”

"But let me get you cleaned up. We’ve got bandages.” She started to rise.

“No.” He grabbed her arm, keeping her on the floor next to him.

“Please Dawn.” His eyes begged. “Listen to me. We don’t have much time left.”

Dawn collapsed against his chest, unable to stop the tears from falling. There wasn’t going to be a happy ending, as much as she wished for it, prayed for it. She just suddenly knew, this wasn't going to end well.

“Come on, hang in there.” Carlo lifted her chin and tilting his head, smiled into her eyes. “You need to know why this has happened. Then you’ll be able to explain why it ended the way it did.”

“Okay,” she sniffled. “I’m listening.”

“Buffy coming back from the grave changed the world.” Carlo’s fingertips moved softly through her hair as he spoke. “That was Willow’s doing and that released Shemhazi and he brought Luke here, his knight, so to speak, to punish them.”

Carlo shifted his weight so that he was holding Dawn by the shoulders, making certain she was looking at him.

“Evil has a way of screwing up, though.” He laughed.

It sounded empty and bitter to Dawn’s ears.

“They didn’t count on Giles’ stupidity, either," said Carlo. "And then when he had Xander call forth the First Witch, no one imagined that Willow would embrace that power so willingly.”

“How do you know Giles and Xander?” Dawn interrupted, surprised. She’d never mentioned them to Carlo.

"Don’t ask. I just do.” He kissed her cheek. “And now, nothing can stop Willow, except…”

“What about Luke?” She cut in again.

“Spike is keeping Luke busy, and Shemhazi’s in hiding.” He laughed loud. But this time, it sounded genuine to Dawn.

“Shemhazi pissed off the big guy upstairs, as my Mom used to say.” He paused, his eyes darkening for an instant. “So he’s out of the picture, and you’re safe.”

He looked around her bedroom, an oddly helpless expression had covered his face. “Willow can’t find you here. She doesn’t know how to get back home.”

“I am home, aren’t I?” said Dawn.

“Yes, Babe. This is Sunnydale. The real Sunnydale.”

“Can Buffy find her way back?”

“If she makes the right choice.”

“You mean Buffy has to kill Willow?” The thought frightened Dawn. Willow and Buffy had been best friends since they were in tenth grade. They'd fought side by side against Glory. Willow had brought Buffy back from the grave. "She can't kill Willow."

“I don’t know if that’s going to be the right decision for Buffy or not.” Carlo looked sad. “All I know is when the moment comes she will have to make a choice.”

He hugged her close to him.

“You’re not really here are you?” breathed Dawn, hoping with all of her heart that she was wrong. It was the only way he could know about Giles or Xander, about Buffy dying and being brought back to life. He had to be some kind of…

“Spirit man. That's what I am now." He rose up onto his knees, pulling her with him. “Kind of like a ghost with form."

She sobbed softly. “How?”

“I don't know the answer to that, but it happened after Willow killed me.”

“Oh, God!” Dawn collapsed into his arms.

“It’s okay.” He whispered against her cheek, kissing her eyes softly in between his words. “I’m going to go home. No more dimension hopping for me, and my Mom, she’ll be there, too. And maybe, I’ll still be a champion, except, you know, fighting for something more than a trophy.”

“I love you,” mumbled Dawn.

“I love you, too, Dawn.” He sighed. “That’s my only regret, leaving you so soon. We were just getting started, you know?”

His lips brushed hers and she tasted the salt of her tears on his mouth, or were they his tears? It didn’t matter to Dawn. She just wanted to take him into her, his strength, his love, and his courage, draw as much of him into her body as she could.

“No time, girl.” His voice was tight, as his lips pulled away. “All you can do is wait for Buffy to make her choice.”

“How will I know when…?”

“You’ll know.”

Dawn searched Carlo’s face. “You don’t know how it’s going to end for Buffy, do you?”

“No clue. But I do know you're safe here.”

Carlo kissed her forehead. Then he was gone, vanished without another word.

Dawn stumbled to her bed and lay down; arms hugging her chest, eyes dry, thinking. Magic worked in strange ways. It hurt as well as healed. It had brought her sister back from the dead. It had made Willow insane. It had let her see Carlo, one last time.

But it hadn't saved her life.

It was Carlo who had made her use her portal jumping skills to hop from dimension to dimension, changing the sequence of events, confusing the Portal Jumper, getting him lost, so he couldn’t use her to get back home. Good thing she thought, that she’d fallen in love with the tough kid from the Bronx. He’d turned out to be some kind of superhero. And whatever magic had given him his powers, she thanked God for it.

Curling up in her bed, she tugged the sheet up around her neck and snuggled into her pillow. Waiting was hardest thing she'd ever done. But that's all she could do now, except pray that Buffy had the strength to make the right choice.

---------------------------------------------------

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Jacob pressed that part of his body against Buffy’s butt. “Or should I kill you?” He said, rubbing his thumb over her lips. “Doesn’t make any difference to me which one happens first, you know?”

Jacob’s fingers were at the top of her blouse, lingering at her throat. His long, sweaty hands moved to her thighs, teasing at the threads of her cut-off jeans. She blinked back angry tears as she peered at Willow. She wasn’t certain she could keep up the game and hold her tongue. The desire to snatch a sharp pointy branch from a nearby tree and shove it through Jacob’s chest was consuming her. Might not kill him because of the un-killable vampire thing, but she bet it would hurt him like a son of a bitch.

“I think you’ve lost your edge Slayer.” He was twirling a strand of her hair, keeping the private parts of his body in constant contact with hers. “You’ve tried to save your sister, her boyfriend, your pet vampire, Tara, and even Willow here. But you haven’t saved a soul.”

His laughter echoed through the park. “You’re a failure. An absolute fucking failure.”

Buffy glared at him. But no matter how angry he made her, she had to remain calm, give herself time to think.

“How’s that feel, darling?” He queried.

“What’s that, Jacob?”

“Being unnecessary.” He had stopped pushing his body against her. “Being invisible whether you’re alive or dead?”

“Never felt that way, so I wouldn’t know.”

Jacob reared back his fist and the next thing she knew, she was stumbling backwards, trying to keep from falling to the ground. He had smacked her in the face. Hard. She could barely see.

“Stop playing around, Jacob.” Willow’s voice came from a pile of splintered trees.

“Why are you still interested in me, anyway? Huh?” Buffy rubbed her jaw, ignoring Willow. She had to keep Jacob talking. “Why aren’t you celebrating your victory over the Slayer and her friends?”

“We are celebrating,” said Jacob, giving Willow a quick glance. “Butchering a Slayer sounds like the best kind of reward imaginable. It’s a twofer. I get to kill my first Slayer and cause Spike a shit load of pain.”

“What’s Spike got to do with it?” interrupted Willow.

Buffy was wondering the same thing. Well, at least, most of the same thing. She had no idea how Jacob knew what Spike felt, or how she felt about her pet vampire? Besides, whatever feelings were between her and Spike didn’t matter because they weren’t any of Jacob’s business.

And where was Spike anyway? She glanced around.

“Oh, I’ve got your Spike,” Jacob gloated. “He’s right here.”

Damn it. Was he reading her mind?

Jacob meandered toward a pile of debris and disappeared behind it for an instant before stepping out slowly, pulling a jean-clad leg by its black boot.

Buffy’s eyes widened with horror as she recognized Spike, completely limp and unconscious. “What have you done to him?”

“Killed him.”

He dropped Spike’s leg and it hit the ground weightless.

“He’s not dust, so he’s not dead.”

“What kind of Slayer are you?” yelled Jacob. “He was human. Don’t you remember? Willow’s magic and Luke’s power made him, made us both, superhuman vampires. That meant we could die.” He paused, mulling over his words. “Well, it’s true, it would take a hell of a lot to kill us.” He winked at Willow. “In fact, only a creature like me could rightfully be a match against Spike.”

He kicked Spike’s body in the side.

Buffy cringed and turned her head away. This couldn't be happening. This had to be another trick of the Portal Jumper's. But she sensed he wasn't around. He was gone. She gulped down the sob that was caught in her throat. It wasn't true, she wouldn't let it be true. Spike wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Things were just getting started between them. She wasn't certain what those things were, but there were a bunch of things.

Buffy begged her mind to be still, not to panic, as she tried to remember the last words she'd said to Spike. Then it came to her, slowly, but completely. She'd told him, she'd gotten her thought back. The spell didn't own her soul anymore.

Could it be she had cared about Spike before the spell?

"Slayer, I'm not done yet," giggled Jacob.

It was an unseemly sound from a vampire, even a superhuman one, and it made Buffy's stomach churn.

"I've got another treat for you," he said, still laughing.

Jacob disappeared again behind a small hill of broken branches and Buffy stiffened, bracing herself for what she'd see next.

"Look at the gift Willow has given you."

Buffy fell to her knees, her breath escaping her lungs so fast she thought she might pass out. In Jacob's arms was Dawn's bleeding body, torn and ripped so viciously, Buffy could feel the pain of her sister's death throughout her body and like a stake in her heart.

She looked at Willow. "You...you did this?" Her throat was raw with pain. "Why, Willow? Why? You said it would be me. You promised, you'd take me."

"I will take you." Willow was walking toward her, eyes narrowed and uncaring. "But Dawn always had to die, don't you see? She was the Key. One day, she would be more powerful than me."

Willow shook her head as if answering a question only she had asked. "And I couldn't let that happen. Ever."

to be continued...