Wow, I started this a year and a half ago and it's finally done, yay;) My last two chapters turned into one really long chapter but, oh well, hope you enjoyed the ride.

~Ghost Writer



The End?



Stunned silence marked the occupants of the room at the half-demon’s announcement.

“What?” Xander demanded, rising to his feet. “Why Buffy? Why a Slayer at all? What the hell kind of sense does that make?”

“Why the hell are you yelling?” Cordelia demanded.

Xander stopped and looked around the room before sitting down.

“Sorry,” he said. “Overreaction done.”

Spike rolled his eyes at the boy. How these people managed to foil his every plan was beyond comprehension.

“It’s supposed to be an impossible task,” Anya spoke up then shrugged. “Since when do those need to make sense?”

“And besides,” Buffy added. “Since when do the bad guys need a reason to try to kill me?”

“But it’s not going to kill you,” Anya reminded them. “It’s going to make you what it is.”

“It can try,” Buffy said firmly, arms crossed.

Anya threw her hands up in disgust.

“Don’t be stupid! Don’t you get it? You can’t win this time. The Creeper can not die! You can burn it, boil it, chop it up into tiny little pieces and it will still come for you. The twenty-three days are up at midnight, if you start running now you could probably stay ahead of it until then and…”

“No,” Buffy said.

“Buffy,” Angel began. “Maybe you should…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

“There may be no other alternative,” Giles began but the Slayer cut him off.

“There has to be,” she insisted. “I mean, can’t you look at the books again? Now that we know what this thing is maybe we can find a way to kill it.”

“But there is no way,” Anya insisted.

“There has to be!” the Slayer shouted. She closed her eyes for a moment and composed herself before speaking again.

“Everything that’s alive dies. It’s just a matter of when, where, and how. All we need to do is find it.”

“But,” Cordelia started but Buffy silenced her with a look.

“Find it,” the blonde repeated before turning and walking from the room.

Angel started after her but stopped as Giles sat down with a weary sigh and reached for a book.

“What are you doing?” the souled vampire asked.

“Attempting to ‘find it’,” the Watcher replied.




Xander tried to concentrate on his book, he really did, but the blonde vampire sitting across from him could be very distracting when he put his mind to it. At the moment he was doing an admirable job. Although the Gem hadn’t prevented the loss of his finger, it was making up for it by growing a new one, which he was wiggling for Xander’s benefit, the boy was certain.

Spike grinned at the disgusted look on Harris’ face. As fun as it was annoying the boy, he’d been at it for close to fifteen minutes and it was getting kind of dull. He was about to find someone else to annoy, either the Watcher who was engrossed in an extremely large text, or his grand-sire who kept giving the blonde dark looks over the top of his own book, when Doyle dropped his book with a cry of pain and grabbed his head. Angel and Cordelia were at his side in an instant.

“What is it?” Angel asked. “What do you see?”

Spike arched an eyebrow, so the bloke had visions, did he? Drusilla’s had never seemed as violent as this one’s did but, then again, she probably got off on the pain. Spike frowned, wondering where his Dark Princess was and just what the bleeding hell was he doing mixed up with the Scoobies?

“Is he okay?” Xander asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Angel told them.

“Go check on your friend,” Doyle said, still massaging his temples.

“Buffy?”

“No,” the half-demon said. “The other one, the little red head.”

Soon after Buffy had locked herself in the bathroom Willow had said that she was tired and Giles had offered the witch the use of his bed. Xander started up the stairs as Cordelia knocked on the bathroom door and asked if Buffy could get her some aspirin. Pills in hand, the brunette turned into the kitchen for a glass of water as Xander thundered back down the stairs.

“Willow’s gone,” he said. “And so are some of your books.”

Buffy came out of the bathroom, eyes suspiciously red, and asked, “Willow’s gone?”

“Which books did she take?” Giles asked, rising to his feet.

“I don’t know,” Xander told the older man. “I left my list of your bedroom library at home today.”

“There’s no call for sarcasm,” Giles said as he quickly ascended the stairs.

“I think it’s pretty obvious where she went,” Anya said. “She wants vengeance so bad that even I can sense it and I don’t even have my powers anymore.”

“Powers?” Angel asked, looking lost.

“I was a Vengeance Demon for eleven hundred and twenty years,” the woman told him.

“Oh.”

Giles descended the stairs drawing all eyes to him, looking stricken.

“What did she take?” Buffy asked.

“Mot du Diable.”

The French speakers in the room all stared at him. Buffy looked confused.

“That’s French, right?”

“You have that?” Anya asked.

“I thought it was destroyed in the 1300s,” Angel said.

“Translation for those of us under fifty,” Cordelia commanded.

Giles gave her a mildly offended look.

“I’m forty-five,” he informed her to which she rolled her eyes. “Mot du Diable translates to ‘Word of the Devil’. It contains some of the blackest spells known. Death majicks.”

“Willow’s gonna kill something?” Cordelia asked disbelief evident in her voice.

“No,” Doyle said softly. “Something’s gonna kill her.”

“What?” Xander demanded.

“The Word of the Devil is a book of devil’s bargains,” Spike supplied. “Only the thing you summon collects right away instead of waitin’ for you to pop off on your own.”

“We have to find her,” Buffy declared looking horrified then turned to Giles. “Why would you have a book like that?”

“It was in a box I purchased at a sorcerers estate auction.”

“Did you see where she was?” Cordelia asked Doyle.

“A morgue is all I saw and given the normal state of affairs around here I’m betting there’s more ‘n one.”

Buffy frowned.

“Morgue,” she muttered talking mostly to herself. “She’d want to be with Oz…called the cops from campus; they would’ve taken him to the nearest one…”

She trailed off for a moment then suddenly perked up.

“Oh, Oak View Mortuary is only a block and a half from the college!”

Giles looked pleased.

“Very good, Buffy.”

She shrugged.

“I do a sweep by there every night.”

“Most of the spells in the book take a great deal of preparation,” Giles said turning toward the door. “We should be able to stop Willow before she even begins. Xander, Cordelia, and, um, Doyle, would you like to accompany us?”

“I’ll drive,” Cordelia said cheerily. “That way I won’t actually have to go inside.”

“I’m in,” Xander said.

Doyle shrugged. “Why not?”

“Then let’s go,” Buffy announced on her way to the door. Anya grabbed her arm and hung on.

“What are you doing?” the Slayer asked.

“What are *you* doing?” the ex-demon demanded. “All the Creeper needs now is you to finish its spell and you’re going to just go flaunting yourself on the streets?”

“But it’s daylight,” the blonde protested.

Anya sighed and rolled her eyes.

“The Creeper prefers the night to the day but it’s not restricted like a vampire. And since it already has the rest of what it needs and the twenty-three days are up tonight it’s going to be looking for you.”

Buffy looked torn.

“Stay here Slayer,” Spike said, surprising them. “I’ll go get your witch.”

He shrugged.

“About time I got in a decent spot of violence anyway.”

“One problem with that, nimrod,” Angel told him. “It’s daylight outside.”

Spike smirked at the taller man and held up the Gem.

“Guess it’s a good thing I got this, then, innit?”

Angel’s smile faltered.

“Where..? How..? That can’t be…”

Spike just shrugged.

“Figure it’ll come in handy after this whole Creeper business is over. Me and the Slayer have some things to finish.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at the death threat but Angel lunged at Spike, intent on removing the ring from his finger. The younger vampire ducked under his arms and slipped out the door. Bathed in the early morning sunlight he grinned at Angel who glowered back from the safety of the apartment.

“You want it so bad?” Spike taunted, lifting his face to the no-longer-deadly orb in the sky. “Come and get it.”

Angel growled, preparing to launch himself across the brightly lit courtyard, when Buffy laid a gentle hand on his arm.

“Angel, stay with me,” she requested softly, then admitted, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

His features softened.

“Go get Willow before she gets hurt,” he told the others. “I’ll stay with Buffy.”

“Me, too,” Anya piped up. “I’m not a fighting person.”

“Nice mid-life crisis-mobile you got, Peaches,” Spike called from the front seat of Angel’s car.

Angel sighed and firmly shut the door, cutting off anything else the bleached blonde might have said.

“Can I kill him when he’s done helping?” he asked Buffy.




Willow walked through the quiet mortuary, her duffel bag of supplies hung over one shoulder and she hugged the large book to her chest. The spell of unease she had cast outside had cleared the building of its living occupants, leaving her alone with Oz to work her spell. Silently, the witch pushed through the heavy wooden door that divided the back room from the chapel and coffin show room, and spotted him almost immediately, lying on a metal gurney toward the middle of the room. A sheet covered the horrible hole of a wound in his chest leaving his head and shoulders exposed.

Willow stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly at the bright fluorescent light above him, small specks of blood dotted his face and neck but one in particular grabbed her attention; settled below the corner of one eye like a scarlet teardrop. Book and duffel hit the floor, both going unnoticed by the young woman as she made her way to her boyfriend’s side.

“Oh, Oz,” she choked, and gently stroked his hair as the tears began to fall.




Spike slumped in the passenger seat, drumming his fingers against the side of the door, and sighed. Could the cheerleader drive any slower? He looked up at the blue sky, the faint wisps of white clouds, and tried to remember the last time he’d seen a sky like that, then tensed.

“Speed up, Princess,” he commanded.

“I don’t take orders from you, peroxide boy,” she shot back.

“Rupes,” he called the Watchers’ attention then pointed out the window and Giles, too, caught sight of the creature wining through the sky.

“Cordelia, speed up,” he commanded.





The Creeper flew determinedly toward the place the other humans had taken the werewolf’s body. Humans had attachments to one another, it remembered that. It also knew that the red haired woman’s scent covered the wolf. There were only two women in the group, both smelled of power and Slayer, but which was the one it needed? Very soon, it would know. The wolf’s blood called to it as well as the scent of Power/Slayer.

Pulling its wings around its body the Creeper fell into a dive to make any hawk proud and burst through the heavy double doors of the Oak View Mortuary in a shower of splinters. Following its nose, the creature strode over the remains of the front door and through the dividing door. The red haired woman was crumpled on the floor by a shiny table where the wolf’s body rested, one of his limp hands clutched in her own, and looked up into the Creeper’s face with dull, red-rimmed eyes. Ignoring the screech of tires and raised voices behind it the Creeper quickly made its way to the woman.

“Willow!” Xander shouted.

The Creeper grabbed her head with both hands and brought her to her feet. She gripped it wrists as she quickly found her feet… and her magic.

“Ign…” she began but the Creeper covered her mouth with one large hand. If she was the Slayer she wouldn’t be the first of her line to know spells.

“Get away from my friend!” Xander yelled as he and Doyle charged the man-like creature.

The Creeper shot a wing out and back, flinging the two men into the others, and pulled the struggling woman closer. Closer. It bent its head to her face, its mouth slightly opened to reveal wickedly sharp teeth to the terrified woman, and then it sniffed her. Starting at her cheek and ending buried in her hair, it brought in one great lungful of air and scent after another, then growled. The scents were too confusing; giving up on that avenue it licked her then flung her away in disgust.

“Witch,” it growled.

Willow collided with Giles, knocking the green energy ball he’d been forming toward the ceiling where it created a large hole. The Creeper studied them. The blonde female was the Slayer, and she wasn’t there. Opening its wings once more the Creeper shot through the new hole in the ceiling and Spike ran toward the shattered front doors.

“Spike!” Giles called.

“If anything’s killin’ the Slayer it’s gonna be me,” the vampire called beck, then he was gone.




Angel closed his book with a thump.

“I’m gonna try some of Giles’ bedroom books,” he declared.

Buffy nodded absently but Anya watched him ascend the stairs then moved to the Slayer’s side.

“Buffy, I need to tell you something important,” she said quietly. “The Elders of Arashmahar included a failsafe in the curse.”

The ex-demon darted a quick look toward the stairs then continued quickly.

“In order for the Creeper to transfer the curse, the Slayer has to be alive.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Angel asked from the stairs.

“Oh, just girl talk, you know,” Anya replied quickly, overly cheerful.

Buffy stared at her with wide eyes, was Anya really suggesting that she..?

Angel continued down the stairs then Giles’ front door imploded.

“Slayer!” the Creeper cried.

Buffy stared uncomprehendingly at the creature in the living room as Anya disappeared into the bathroom and Angel dropped his book and vamped.

“Buffy, run!” he shouted as he launched himself at the Creeper.

Finally snapping out of her daze, Buffy ran.

Angel tackled the creature, taking them both to the ground. He slammed its head into the floor, cracking the hardwood with the force. The Creeper threw a punch at the vampire, sending him flying into the coffee table. Angel felt a rib crack but rose to his feet and rounded on the creature. He would not let it get to Buffy.



-a failsafe in the curse-

-the Slayer has to be alive-

Anya’s words echoed through Buffy’s head as she ran, then she stopped, turning first one way then another, lost not because she didn’t know where she was but because she didn’t know where to go. Not home, that thing would hurt her mom and not to the dorms either, there were too many people there. She was near Restfield Cemetery, maybe she could hide (as much as the thought galled her) in one of the crypts or get into the sewers? Buffy barely recognized the dampness on her cheeks as tears as she tried to make her brain work.

“Spike!” she cried, spying the vampire running toward her.

“Slayer,” he greeted then grabbed her hand and pulled her into the cemetery.

“Where is it?”

“At Giles’,” she said. “Angel’s fighting it but…”

Spike kicked in the door of a crypt and pulled her into it.

-the Slayer has to be alive-

“But?” he prompted, then turned from the doorway and took in her faraway expression, her tear-stained face.

“Buffy?”

She raised her eyes to his.

“Kill me.”

He blinked at her.

“Huh?”




The Creeper spread its wings to follow where the Slayer had run as Cordelia and the others pulled up out front. Angel grabbed one wing with both hands, doing his best to ignore the pain in his side, and hung on. The Creeper rounded on him again.





“If I’m dead it can’t do the spell. I’d rather be dead than what that thing is.”

Spike vamped and pulled her close.

“Why didn’t you say so, luv?” he asked, then sank his fangs into her throat.





Angel stumbled suddenly and the Creeper stopped mid-swing, pausing for a moment before letting out a piercing cry that forced the gathered group to clamp their hands over their ears. The thing began to stiffen up, the webbed caul around its head flared out then down and began to cover its face. It shrieked again, its wings flinging wide before being almost forcibly pulled around its struggling body. Almost completely cocooned in its own flesh the Creeper continued to struggle, the shriek, albeit muffled, still sounded until the creature was suddenly silenced, fell to the floor and was still.

“What the hell was that?” Xander demanded.

“It went back into hibernation,” Anya said, coming out of the bathroom where she’d hidden herself during the fight.

“But the twenty-three days aren’t up until midnight tonight,” Giles said.

Angel held his side, looking dazed as the others came closer to the cocooned creature.

“I didn’t think she’d actually do it,” Anya continued, mostly to herself.

“Do what?” Cordelia asked, standing as far away from the Creeper as she could.

“The Creeper curse has a clause,” Anya began. “To transfer the curse to a Slayer, that Slayer has to be alive. I guess it just gave up for this time around.”

It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in, but when they did…

Giles staggered like he’d been struck.

“Buffy?” Willow whispered, incredulous.

Cordelia was silent, shocked and Doyle moved to her side.

Xander was silent, grief and fury warring on his features. Finally, fury won.

“Spike!” he shouted, moving toward Giles’ weapons chest. “I’ll kill him!”

Angel stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“No,” he said softly. “I’ll deal with Spike, but right now we need to make sure that this thing will never hurt anyone ever again.”

















Epilogue

The Scoobies, plus Joyce and the L.A. gang, gathered in Restfield Cemetery and watched as Angel lowered the box into the grave.

“I still say we should have gone after Spike,” Xander declared.

“He still has the Gem,” Angel reminded them. “It may take awhile, but I will find him.”

“Angel,” Joyce began. “Did he…Was she…Did it hurt her?”

The souled vampire regarded Buffy’s mother with gentle brown eyes, then shook his head.

“No,” he assured her. “The only pain she felt would have been from the bite and that doesn’t hurt too much.”

Joyce took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Agreeing whole-heartedly Angel dropped the Creeper’s body into the steel box in the ground then strode over to the cement mixer and pulled a lever. The group stood back and watched the slimy grey mixture fill the box and cover the Creeper, then Angel dropped the lid into place.

“You guys go on ahead,’ he said and picked up a shovel. “I’ll finish up here.”



After the others had gone, and the hole was filled, Angel remained, looking down on the Creeper’s grave. Then, he spoke.

“I know you’re there.”

Spike and Buffy melted out of the shadows of the trees and came to stand by the grave, the soft rectangle of earth between the blondes and their souled family member.

“Thank you,” Buffy said. “For what you told my mom.”

“I just told her the truth,” Angel replied.

Buffy touched the healing wound on her throat and smiled softly.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

Spike was silent as they spoke, scanning the dark sky, hands shoved into his duster pockets.

“It’s gonna be light soon, kitten,” he said. “We’d better get goin’.”

Buffy nodded then walked across the grave to Angel and wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Good luck in L.A.”

He hugged her back, missing the normally intense heat that used to surround her, and then released the small blonde.

“I told them that I buried you where nothing could find you,” he said.

Buffy nodded.

“Thanks. Goodbye, Angel.”

Angel watched her walk back to Spike before he spoke again.

“I want you to be happy, Buffy,” he said. “But if I ever see either of you again, I’ll kill you.”

Spike snorted in amusement but Buffy smiled back at her ex, her great grand-sire.

“I’d expect nothing less,” she said before melting into the shadows.

“Take care of her,” he told Spike.

“Always,” the blonde replied before disappearing after his childe.

Angel stared into the dark for some time after they’d gone and wasn’t surprised when Giles’ voice sounded behind him.

“I assume you knew,” the Watcher said.

Angel nodded.

“At least now she has a chance to be happy,” Angel said softly.

The man was quiet for a minute.

“Would you really kill her?” he asked. “Could you?”

The vampire turned to the Watcher.

“Yes, I could and I will, if I have to. She *is* evil, Giles. Don’t try to convince yourself otherwise.”

He paused.

“The Slayer is dead, that’s all the others need to know.”

Giles nodded wordlessly, eyes lingering on the last place he’d seen his Slayer, then turned and walked away. Angel watched him go before he, too, turned to the last place he’d seen Buffy.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, then followed Giles out of the cemetery.

The End

I love writing those words and just so you know, there may be a sequel in the works. I have plot bunnies running around my brain ;)
~Ghost Writer