Chapter 17

’you gotta know happy - you gotta know glad
because you're gonna know lonely
and you're gonna know bad’
- “the bug” by dire straits

Willow looked as though she was prepared to go to a funeral, her expression more than (pardon the pun) grave as she flipped through a pile of print-outs. She was alone in the conference room, her index finger circling around the rim of a coffee cup.

Buffy stopped short in the door, Spike bumping into her, when she saw that room was empty except for the redheaded witch.

“I thought this was an urgent conference,” she said, bewildered.

Willow looked up from her reading. “It is urgent, and it is a conference. The two of us, it would just be a talk. Three, that makes a conference.” Her peppy tone betrayed the seriousness on her face. “I wanted to talk to you guys first ‘cause… well… sit down.” She motioned to the two chairs next to hers.

“That doesn’t sound too good.” Buffy sighed as she slumped down in her chair. Her hair was still wet from the shower, her clothes in slight disarray. She put her hand on the armrest, Spike’s fingers intertwining with hers.

“Well, it’s kinda not.” She pulled a print out from the pile. “Last night, I finished the book Spike brought to see if there was something more on that ultimate sacrifice thing.”

“Please tell me you found something so that we don’t have to do this.” Buffy’s face twisted with a hopeless plea.

“I did some cross-referencing and some googling. There were some more hints to that sacrifice business. I told you how the Fates tend to operate, right? One spins the thread of life, the second measures, and the third cuts it whenever it pleases her.”

They both nodded in silence.

“I couldn’t find anything on how to destroy the Fates. As I said, those ancient things are usually really hard to come by. What I found, is this.” Willow pushed the printout across the table.

It showed a picture of what, in the original, might have been an etching of some sort, the lines slightly blurred and distorted. The etching was of three women in tunics, one holding a spindle, the next what looked like a ruler, the last a huge pair of scissors. Around the circular picture, two lines of some mysterious script wound between some fancy ornaments.

“Got a translation for that, Red?”

“Sure. It’s ancient Greek, by the way.” She pulled another paper from the pile. “It says: Three of perpetual beauty to judge over life, one with a life to spare to bring them down.”

For a moment, silence fell into the room. Buffy’s eyes shifted from Willow to Spike, then back to Willow.

“Okay, now I might be a little slow on the uptake here but what the hell does that mean?”

Again, silence. It took almost en entire minute before Spike finally spoke.

“It’s us.”

“That’s what I figured, yeah.” Willow made her usual ‘sorry, I have bad news’ face.

“Excuse me?” Buffy started to sound a little aggravated. “I still don’t get it. What do you mean ‘it’s us’?”

“One with a life to spare to bring them down,” Spike quoted, his index finger thumping down on the page. “These bitches take life whenever they feel like it. We both thought our time had come but we’ve been resurrected in one way or another. We got a second chance. Only in their world we mucked up the plan.” A frown appeared on Spike’s brow as though his own words didn’t make much sense to him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” again, Buffy’s gaze shifted between the two in disbelief.

“I’m afraid not,” Willow said apologetically, guilt all too obvious at the mentioning of Buffy’s resurrection. “There are a few more sources that confirm exactly that.”

“You sure it has to be us?”

“It doesn’t say that specifically, no. I think it’s referring to back-from-the-dead kind of people in general, someone who’s been technically dead for example.”

“Well, can’t we just ring up the next hospital or something?” A flicker of hope appeared on Buffy’s face.

“We can’t go just and grab someone. This isn’t ‘I bet you will’,” Spike interjected.

“A few years ago you would’ve jumped on the whole human sacrifice thing like a rat on rice.” Buffy eyes him, slight anger flaring up in her voice.

“Hello?” Spike raised his hands in defiance. “Soul.”

The Slayer’s shoulders slumped a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I really don’t want to die again. Not now.” For a moment, their eyes met and the world seemed to matter a little less.

“Neither do I.” Spike laid his hand back on hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Willow cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to her. “There is more.” She flipped through the pile of printouts. “I found something about the ritual used to awaken the Fates. Maybe that can come in handy.” She produced a bunch of stapled-together pages. “It really is amazing what you can find on the internet these days. Anybody can pull an apocalypse if they know what to google.”

“Focus, please.” Buffy interrupted her friend’s ramble.

“Yes, sorry.” The redhead glanced down at the pages. “A few thousand years ago, when the Fates were last active, people started minding their own business. The ladies lost more and more of their impact on the world, becoming weaker. One day, this priest comes along, and he banishes them into a stone tablet. I don’t know how he managed to dig up someone with a life to spare but he did it.”

“Let me guess, that stone tablet got lost?” Spike asked, slightly annoyed.

“Not lost, no. They hid it very well but during one Crusade or another, the one who knew about the hiding place got killed.”

“And then what? Someone of the Secte just stumbled over it on a vacation to Greece?” Buffy sounded even more annoyed.

“Not quite. A while back, there was an earthquake in Greece. Some temple collapsed and as people started digging through the rubble, they discovered an unknown cave,” Willow explained patiently, illustrating her findings with pictures on the printouts.

“And then someone stumbled over it?”

“Yes, literally. And then they put it on Ebay.”

“That’s a nice little story got there, Red. But I don’t see how that’s helping to not get us killed.”

Willow looked a little hurt at Spike’s comment but continued without taking any more notice. “I believe when we get a hold on the tablet, I might be able to ban the Fates again. The description of that ritual was detailed enough to at least try it.”

“What if you fail?” Buffy asked, concerned.

“We don’t need to worry about that. If I fail, the world’s shot to hell anyway.


***

The basement was the only quiet place in the entire building. It was a maze of hallways and storage rooms. On one end of the main hallway was the boiler room, the machine humming quietly behind a steel-framed door. On the other end were the laundry room and a huge storage room including an almost industrial sized cooling room.

Spike’s didn’t have quite the fondest memories of basements. First, he had spent some crazy months camped on the Hellmouth, then, he’d spent some crazier months in Buffy’s basement. His ghostly endeavors at “Wolfram & Hart” notwithstanding.

Things never ended well for him when it came to basements.

At least he had dug up a bottle of scotch, probably used for cooking. That, or one of the girls had a serious drinking problem.

Now, he sat at the end of the hallway, hidden in the dark, staring at the concrete wall opposite him. Every now and then, he took a deep swig from the bottle. Of course, being a vampire kept him from getting seriously drunk. He would need much, much more than a bottle of scotch to accomplish that. But it wasn’t about getting drunk, it was just about taking the edge off a little.

He had known if before. Things just wouldn’t work out with Buffy. No matter what, it just wasn’t meant to be. Whenever things seemed to be going well, something like this happened.

Not that the prophecy or ritual was awfully specific but they both knew it was them. Not both of them, but one. One of them was going to die.

Footsteps sounded down the hall, then the harsh neon lights flickered to life.

Spike growled a curse, shielding his eyes.

“Spike? Is that you?” Andrew appeared about the corner, carrying a shopping basket and a piece of paper.

“Yeah,” the vampire replied, annoyed.

“What are you doing down here? You didn’t go crazy again, did you?”

“Maybe. What do you know?” The vampire peered up at the boy, a weird little grin appearing on his face. A horrified beat passed between them. “No, I’m not.” Spike reassured him. “This is just the only place without the constant chatter and clatter of the Slayer horde.”

Andrew heaved a relieved little sigh. “Yeah, the girls can be pretty wild.”

Spike eyes him questioningly when he sat down next to him. “What are you doing?”

“Catching up. We haven’t talked in a while,” Andrew replied with a cheerful smile.

“And we talked for hours before that?”

“Of course. Remember our secret mission to the monastery? Or when we hunted down Dana the crazy Slayer?”

“Yeah,” Spike rolled his eyes, taking a swig from the scotch. “Though I rather wish I didn’t.”

“Ah,” Andrew waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “The two of us, two heroes with a dark past. Fumbling our way back to the good side.”

Spike looked at him in horror. “Can you not use the word fumbling when you talk to me?”

As the lights winked out, Andrew’s crimson blush disappeared in the dark.

“So, everything work out between you and Buffy?” he asked after a while.

Spike sighed beside him. “Kind of. Not that it matters anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

He told him about the Fates and the ritual, and how things might not look too good for him and Buffy.

“That sucks,” Andrew all but blurted.

“That is does.” Spike took another sip from the scotch. “It’s just not meant to be. Whatever I do, it’s just not enough. I try to stay away from her, to forget her, to keep her safe. If I was chained to a rock, trying to reach for the grapes I’ll never get, it wouldn’t be surprising. I don’t deserve to be with her after all.” The vampire knew that he was moping but he didn’t care. Things were already screwed, one more nudge didn’t matter.

“Do you really believe that? That you don’t deserve her?”

“It’s sort of based on experience.”

“It’s not true, you know.” Andrew sounded much more mature that Spike would’ve thought to be possible. “You deserve her. And she deserves you.”

“And you’ve got all the insight?”

“Yeah. I’ve been watching you guys.” After a moment, Andrew added, “in a totally non-voyeuristic way. You’ve been through hell for her, getting your soul and all that. And when you died, she went through hell because of you. I don’t know everything that happened between the two of you but if I had to name one thing about you guys… you deserve each other.”

For a few seconds, silence fell. The only audible sound was the hum of the boiler down the hall.

Spike had to give the kid credit; he knew how to give motivating speeches. He must’ve read a book or something.

“You really shouldn’t sit down here, all brooding.”

“I am not brooding.” Spike’s harsh tone made the little guy twitch.

“Fine, you’re not brooding. But don’t give up hope either. Willow will figure something out. And even if she doesn’t, you really think you should be sitting here with me instead of up there with Buffy?”

In a flash, Spike was on his feet. “I will never admit that I said this but… you’re right.” He shoved the bottle into Andrew’s hand. “Got to see a man about a girl.”

“I know that I’m right.” He heard the boy murmur behind him as he headed for the stairs.

Apparently, hell had frozen over after all.


***