“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.” – Anais Nin

********************

Spike eased away from the Slayer’s body in the pre-dawn hours. He dressed hurriedly – keeping one eye on Buffy and the other on Xander as he did so to make sure that he did not wake either of them – and left the tent, not surprised to see that many of the men were already up and about, breaking camp, and preparing to go to war.

His first stop was the Theoden King’s tent, and he was granted entrance almost immediately. Unlike him, the king had not been present for Elrond and Aragorn’s conversation the previous night, and he wanted to assure the man that his brother would meet up with them when the time came. For now, he would have Spike and the Slayer to ride by his side into battle.

And from all appearances, it looked like Xander would be joining him since he’d not left with Elrond and Willow, instead making himself at home in Spike’s tent the previous night.

Spike sighed as he left Théoden, wondering how in the world he was going to keep Xander alive, if the boy was, indeed, determined to join them in their final stand against Sauron. As he followed a path on the way out of camp to the hill overlooking the valley below, he gave serious thought to knocking Xander unconscious and leaving him behind with Eowyn.

He crested the rise and looked out at the small army gathered below just as the sun began its ascent into the sky. After all the time spent on Middle Earth, he never willingly missed a chance to see the sunrise – or the sunset, for that matter. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and basked in the heat that warmed his face, wondering if it would be the last time he witnessed such a miracle.

“Have faith, my golden warrior.”

The words were whispered on the wind, weak yet filled with an enduring hope, and Spike could practically feel the soft caress of Arwen’s lukewarm hand upon his cheek. He feared for her – much as he did for the Slayer – instinctively knowing that somehow the elven princess’ life was tied to the outcome of their war with Sauron.

“Arwen,” he whispered aloud, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.

A few moments later, Spike felt her presence recede, and he reached out as if to keep her near. Fearing he’d never see her again, to see her face light up upon his and Aragorn’s return. He sighed and hung his head, his unbeating heart heavy with impending loss.

Finally, he opened his eyes, cast one last glance at their meager army, and turned to make his way back to camp. He stopped abruptly upon spying Buffy standing several feet away, twisting her hands and refusing to meet his gaze as if unsure of her welcome. She was already dressed for battle and he realized he’d been gone far longer than he’d planned.

“Buffy!” He hurried forward, desperate to make amends. Pulled the Slayer into his arms and held her close. “I’m sorry, luv. I meant to be back before you woke.”

“I… it’s okay.”

But Spike could sense it was not. Buffy was shivering, for one thing. Nothing drastic, just an occasional shudder to her slight frame; she’d also yet to return his hug, instead folding her arms in front of her chest.

“Buffy?” He leaned back and slipped a hand beneath her chin, applying gentle pressure until she lifted her head and looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—”

Spike quirked his brow and cut off her denial.

“I… it’s just… I woke up and you were gone. I couldn’t find you. I got dressed and stepped outside. Some of the men… some of the men were talking, saying that Aragorn had left…”

“And you thought I’d gone too.”

“I— Yes,” she whispered, unable to lie. She looked away, unable to meet Spike’s eyes.

It dawned on Spike suddenly that she’d not heard his confession to Eowyn.

“I’m sorry, luv. I had to speak with Theoden this morning. He was not privy to Elrond and Aragorn’s conversation last night and I needed to make him aware of our plan. Then I went to check on the men’s preparations and get a look at the army we’d amassed. It was my intention to return before you’d awoken. Forgive me?”

Buffy nodded and relaxed against him; her arms slipped around his back and held him tight and he almost didn’t hear the words she muffled against his chest.

“You’re not gonna lose me, luv. We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Spike felt her nod against his chest.

“Well alright then. Come on, I’ve got to get back and get Shelerof saddled. Theoden wanted to leave at first light and it’s past that now. While we’re at it, maybe you can talk to the whelp, see if you can convince him to stay behind.”

“Xander thinks he’s coming with us?” Buffy asked, drawing back to look at Spike.

“Looks like. He didn’t leave with Elrond and Willow.”

Spike saw the glint in her eye and felt confident she’d change the boy’s mind.

When Spike finally reined in Shelerof on Théoden’s left in between the king and Buffy almost an hour later, he was surprised to see Xander situated behind her on his own mount.

“I thought you were going to talk to him,” he hissed.

“I did. He wouldn’t listen. Said he was coming whether I liked it or not. I told him I didn’t and he just smiled at me. Smiled!”

Spike glanced over his shoulder. Xander was leaning towards the soldier on his left, nodding intently at something the man was saying; he refused to look Spike’s way. Whatever he’d intended to say to the boy was cut off as the call to arms was given and Théoden’s cry rent the air.

“Ride! Ride now for Gondor!”

********************

Xander wasn’t sure what he was thinking as he rode behind Buffy, Spike, and the Theoden King. The bow and quiver of arrows he’d become fairly proficient with were slung tight across his chest and slapped against his back as their small army raced headlong towards Minas Tirith.

They’d been riding for nearly two days, stopping only long enough to feed and water the horses and allow them to rest. No one slept.

Spike put his fist in the air, signaling a call to halt, and Xander heaved a sigh of relief, both for his aching backside and his full bladder. Elrond had warned him that it was going to be a hard ride, harder than the hurried pace the two had made from Rivendell to where they’d met up with Spike, Buffy, and the others. If not for the riding lessons he’d been given by a few of the elves he’d befriended, he would have been in a world of hurt.

Xander reined in his mount and quickly dismounted, eager to put as much distance between himself and Spike and Buffy. Each had taken turns the first day confronting him, telling him to ride back the way they’d come, that they were going to war, and most likely to their deaths.

Like he wasn’t well aware of that fact.

But, he’d had to do something, had to prove to them both that he’d changed.

After their last heated encounter, in which both Spike and Buffy had ganged up on him – they’d pulled out the big guns, telling him that he was only human and had no special skills and therefore wasn’t cut out to fight, and he’d countered with the fact that he’d survived five years at Buffy’s side and had even saved her life – Xander had been careful to disappear into the crowd of men, only reappearing in line behind them as the call to ride was given.

Xander left his horse – a sturdy mount loaned to him by Elrond – grazing with several others and hurried into the trees. Like many of the Rohirrim, he’d seen to the needs of his mount before worrying about his own, and with that now out of the way, knew that if he didn’t relieve himself, and soon, he’d have an uncomfortable ride ahead of him.

A horn rang out about an hour later, and Xander returned to his horse and gave a cursory glance at his gear, making sure that everything was secure. Only when everything was checked and double-checked did he swing himself up into the saddle. He’d just returned to his position behind Buffy and Spike – the latter glaring at him with narrowed eyes – as the final horn sounded and the order was given to ride.

********************

They’d not even crested the rise and already Xander could hear the sounds of battle coming from the barren wasteland outside Minas Tirith. He swallowed back the bile he could feel rising in his throat and whispered a fervent prayer that he’d live through the day. As he reined in his mount and got his first look at the battlefield below, his jaw dropped.

Rohirrim flanked him on either side up and down along the hill, and Xander figured they were easily outnumbered five to one by the Orc army.

“Second thoughts?”

The question startled him and his gaze flew to Spike, who’d somehow managed to worm his way in between him and another soldier.

“Nobody’d blame you if you hung back. You’re not a warrior. Hell, you barely managed to sit your horse these last three days.”

“I’m not a coward.”

Surprisingly, there was no rebuttal to Xander’s statement by the vampire. No snort of derision or even a roll of eyes. Spike was staring at him, as if taking his measure. Finally, he nodded.

“Theoden gives the order, I want you to stick to my arse like glue. Hear me? Slayer’s got enough on her mind without worrying about you too.”

The battle horn sounded, cutting off Xander’s reply. His horse reared, as did several others, sensing the charged atmosphere, and it took him a minute to regain control of his mount.

“Like glue!” Spike shouted, and then he was off, practically leading the charge down the hill.

Xander kicked his horse and hung on as it went from standstill to gallop in less than a handful of strides. ‘Stick to the vampire’s butt,’ he silently chanted, all the while praying he wouldn’t lose sight of Spike as they made their first pass through the Orc army. He was so busy worrying about remaining upright on his horse as it plowed through row upon row of demon soldiers that he didn’t get a chance to use his bow and arrow.

The first charge ended and he doubled back to make his second pass. As he did so, he yanked his bow from around his neck. It was as he made to grab an arrow out of the quiver strapped to his back that he found himself plucked from his seat and resettled behind Spike on his mount.

No comment was made about his unmanly squeak.

“Balance yourself with your knees,” Spike shouted over the din.

Spike whistled to Shelerof and they shot forward again. This time Xander was ready; he took aim and let loose his arrow.

“Yes!” he cried and barely refrained from pumping his fist in the air.

“Keep firing!”

And Xander did, arrow after arrow until his quiver was empty – then he used Spike’s.

Around him, the battle raged on.

Xander didn’t try to find Buffy, having to trust that her being the slayer would give her the edge she needed to stay alive. He looked no further than the next Orc to step into his line of sight, only releasing his arrow when he was sure of a clean kill. Mounted in front of him, Spike swung his sword from side to side, killing anything that happened to get in their way.

Then Aragorn showed up.

“Here comes the cavalry,” Spike murmured as he reined in his mount on the outskirts of the battlefield. There was pride in his voice. Pride and genuine affection.

Xander lowered his bow and watched as a ghost army surged forward and took out the remaining Orcs then swarmed up and into Minas Tirith to rout what was left of Sauron’s army.

“You knew. That’s why you let him leave.”

Spike’s smirk said it all.

“Everyone—they were all calling him a coward, leaving on the eve of battle. Him and his friends. No one could figure out why you stayed though.”

“Had to.”

“To give them hope?” Xander gestured with his head towards the men now cheering before them.

“Partly. Also did it for him,” Spike told him, his attention focused on Aragorn as he absolved the Ghost King and his men of their debt and they slowly disappeared. “He had to find the strength to become what he was destined to be.”

Xander nodded as if he understood, even though he didn’t. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Buffy limping their way, a wide smile on her face. He slipped off from behind Spike, grateful to have his feet planted firmly on the ground.

“Looks like there’s a damsel in distress in need of some rescuing,” Xander remarked, nudging Spike in the leg.

He smiled encouragingly when Spike looked his way before turning to find Buffy among the masses.

“Better hurry up,” he added when Spike remained rooted to the spot. “Buffy’s liable to give you hell for making her walk to you, or should I say limp—”

Spike’s horse shot forward, and Xander chuckled.

“Don’t run her over in your enthusiasm to reach her,” Xander called out as he started on foot after them.