Author’s Note: This chapter is pretty exposition heavy—and I apologize for that. Hopefully it's interesting to read. Hopefully it makes sense. I had to make some choices here about why Spike is the way he is. I know that there are many different theories, some more fanon than canon, and some more plausible than others. I tried to make a choice that was as possible as it could be without directly contradicting canon, but hopefully without slipping hard into fanon territory. Also, I had to make one that would make the most sense in this story.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Betaed by Phuriedae and Science

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Chapter 52
Choices


"Why is it that you only show up when things are going to hell and it involves a vampire?" I ask.

Whistler lifts a shoulder in what might be a shrug, but he gives me a half-smile. "Funny you should ask that," he says. "But we'll get to the explanations in a minute. You serious, about going to hell and back for that bleached punk?"

"Yes," I say. "Very."

"Good," he says, coming into the room and shrugging out of his overcoat, revealing a shirt covered in a loud orange print layered under a short jacket made of red leather that matches his boots. "That's what I needed to hear. I'm here to help."

"Wait a minute," Xander says. "Okay, one, nice shirt. Two, Buffy, are we seriously talking about rescuing Captain Peroxide? Soulless, evil demon, remember? I mean, okay, sure, he's helped and he did save my life. But if we're talking apocalypse now here, don't we have bigger things to worry about than saving one pain in the ass vampire who was too dumb to dust himself?"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, my bigoted friend," Whistler says.

"I'm sorry," Giles says, shaking his head. "Who exactly are you?"

"This," I say with a sigh, "is Whistler. Supposedly he works for the Powers That Be. I thought you were Angel's guy?"

Whistler blushes a little and dips his head. "Yeah, well, I kinda screwed up and the PTB decided I needed to make up for it. Sorry, kid, you're stuck with me for now."

"You're a demon," Anya says, staring at him. He looks at her, surprised.

"Well, yeah," he says, then glances at Xander. "And before you get your panties in a bunch, I'm one of the good ones. Just pretend this is white and you'll have the general idea." He touches the brim of his hat.

"There are good demons?" Tara asks.

"Of course. There are evil humans, too," Anya says. "It's all part of that balance thing you like to talk about."

"You said he's been here before," Giles says to me. "When?"

"Acathla ring any bells?" Whistler says, perching on the edge of the table. Gotta hand it to the little weasel, he knows how to capture an audience. "You were a little tied up at the time. By the way, hope your alcohol collection has gotten better. I'm gonna need a stiff one by the time this is done."

"You said things weren't so simple," I remind him. "What did you mean?" He sighs and scrubs a hand over his jaw.

"Geez. I forgot how tenacious you are. I might need that drink sooner rather than later. This is a long story, so you might as well have a seat, sweetcheeks. Lucky for us, your boy is a lot stronger than we thought. He's buying us some time."

"Spike?" I ask, frowning. I remember his refusal to go with the demoness, the way he fought against her even when it was obvious she had him in her power. Trust Spike to refuse to play by the rules.

"Yeah, who'd have thought, right? Certainly not me. And uh... that's kinda where my screw up comes in," he says a little sheepishly. With a sigh I take a seat and cross my arms, ready for him to continue. "Okay, so we gotta go back a little here. See... I might've fibbed to you a bit, last time. I said we didn't see you coming... not exactly true. We knew there was a Slayer coming who wasn't going to fit the same mold. This girl... there were all kinds of signs and portents around her, all sorts of prophecies. She was gonna shake up the world, and there were certain things she was gonna have to do that... well... were going to be pretty rough on her. So, the PTB decided that she deserved compensation, of a sort. Help. Other Slayers... they take strength in solitude. You, on the other hand..."

He gestures at the room full of people. "You take strength from love, friendship, loyalty. So, they decided to offer you a partner. Someone strong enough to fight beside you, who could watch your back, keep you alive a lot longer. A champion. Your knight. Not to save you, but to fight at your side. But there had to be some balance, you understand. Darkness to match your light, yadda yadda yadda... All that poetic prophecy crap. Vampires being the flip side of your particular coin, it made sense, you know? "

"The Slayer's Knight," Giles says, his expression wry. "Then we were correct? Spike is the Slayer's Knight?"

"The thing of it is," Whistler says, not really meeting his eyes. "The PTB... they set things in motion way ahead of time. And they're not always clear on, you know, specifics. They've got eons to set up their pieces and put them in line, centuries to make even a single move on the board. But about a hundred years or so ago, we knew to start looking for the one that was going to be the Slayer's Knight. We had a good idea where we were gonna find him; what we didn't know was exactly who he was or why he would choose to fight on our side. There were two vampires who were particularly good candidates. One, about a hundred years ago, came down with a sudden case of soul. The other, also about the same time, was made a little... wrong."

"That's what she said," I tell him. "Louhi. She said Spike was made wrong. What does that mean?"

"Normally the formula runs pretty smooth: chomp, drink, die, and whoosh goes the soul and most of the person and in goes the demon," Whistler explains. "But something went screwy in his case; something to do with his whacked out sire and a little intervention from above. See, Drusilla, she was supposed to bat for our team. That's why she had visions. Unfortunately, Angelus never could resist twisting the good guys around to his side. And boy did he put her through the taffy pull. By the time he was done it's a wonder she had any sort of mind left. In any case things didn't quite go as usual for William the Bloody. Yeah, Drusilla managed the usual: chomp, drink, die, whoosh went the soul... but William's humanity didn't exactly vacate the premises. And suddenly you've got a vamp of a different color."

"She said he was an immortal with a human heart," I remember.

"One way of putting it," Whistler says, "Though that's a bit Anne Rice if you ask me. All men have their demons. William's is just a bit more literal than most. Somehow, over the last century or more, they learned to cohabitate. Anyway, we're getting off topic. Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, about a hundred years ago, Angel gets himself a soul, and William becomes Spike. They split up and Angel spends the next hundred years or so wallowing in various gutters, generally being useless and feeling sorry for himself, while Spike wanders the globe, bathing in blood and doing the demonic equivalent of the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Oh, and absolutely obsessed with Slayers."

A few days ago that would have sent a shiver down my spine. But I know now why Spike went after Slayers. I don't necessarily agree with it, but I sort of understand it. I just hold the journal a little tighter and wait until Whistler continues. Everyone else seems riveted, hearing this version of a story that we thought we knew pretty well.

"Right. So, fast forward to a little over five years ago. I get the word that the Slayer's Knight is in New York, and that the Slayer we've been waiting for has just been called out in L.A.. So I go to New York," Whistler says, looking at me. "That's where I screwed up, kid. See, both of our boys were in the Big Apple when I got there. Spike was in Brooklyn, eating the club kids hanging outside of deathmetal gigs. Angel was over in the Bronx, hanging out in gutters and chasing rodents for his meals. Well, I checked in on both boys and figured that telling William the Bloody about a brand new baby Slayer would pretty much be like signing her death certificate. So I went with Angel, instead. Picked him up outta the gutter, hauled his broodiness all the way out to L.A. and let him get an up close and personal view of one Buffy Summers, Slayer, just about the time she was learning that she had a Destiny with a capital D."

"The way I figured it," Whistler says, "If Angel was destined to help you, getting him out here was priority. He wasn't doing anyone any good where he was, and we knew you'd have your hands full with the Master once you got to Sunny-D."

I try not to think about everything that happened before I got to Sunnydale. Where was all my special help then?

"The thing is, love is one of those unpredictable factors—the PTB can't make it happen. They can stick you with whoever they want, for however long, but they can't make you fall in love. And when love does happen, it sometimes gums up the works. The Slayer's Knight was meant to be your partner in the big fights, your backup. We didn't know Angel was gonna fall for you, or you for him. Didn't know a lot of things, as it turned out." Whistler looks a little nervous when he glances in my direction again. "Don't kill the messenger, doll-face. Was just doing what I thought was right. Didn't know about that little escape clause in his soul-contract. I swear. Not till it was too late. I should have checked. Hell, we all screwed the pooch on that one. And honestly, until that night when I talked to you, I still thought it was Angel. Right up until William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, did the one thing we never thought he'd do."

"The truce," I say, thinking back. "Spike showed up that night, right after I left you. You told me that I was all I had but... that wasn't true."

"I can't fight them both alone, and neither can you," Spike said. I punched him in his stupid, too handsome face, hating that he was right.

"I hate you," I told him. Why was he there? Why was it Angel I had to go kill and the only one who was willing to help me was this creep?

"And I'm all you've got," Spike said, smirking smugly. The cop he'd just laid out on the hood of the patrol car groaned...

"The truce," Whistler says, nodding. "Who'd have thought, right? And then he kept his word, helped you save the world..."

"He wanted his girlfriend back," I remind him.

"Yeah, well, you wanted your boyfriend back, as I recall," he said. "You were both kinda in the same boat. But that's not really the point. Thing is... after the whole Acathla thing went down, we still weren't sure how it was going to go. Spike had disappeared down south, and Angel had taken a little trip even further south. Except, we knew Angel wasn't really done yet. One way or the other he was coming back from hell. He's got his own destiny to deal with, and... well... it still could have been him. Destiny always gives you some kind of choice, you know. Prophecies always tell you what, but almost never how. And more often than not it's the how that matters. It's the choices we make that determine fate. Right up until the moment he chose to walk away from you, Angel was still in the running. But Spike... he just kept coming back. All on his own, too. And then he got chipped, and once again did the unexpected. He went to the Slayer for help."

"Did the PTB have a hand in that?" I ask. "The chip?"

Whistler shakes his head. "Don't know for sure. Most of that Initiative stuff wasn't the kind of thing the PTB approves of, but they may have nudged him. Hard to say. But he chose to come to you all on his own. This last year he did on his own, too. Maybe with some help from you. But the long and short of it is... yeah, Spike is the Slayer's Knight. If you want him. Just our luck, the thing that makes him capable of being your partner is the same thing that this Louhi dame needs to power her return. See... she feeds on human pain. It's what makes her stronger. And William's got just enough humanity left stuck in him that he feels pain—real pain, emotional and physical—as much as a human would. Maybe even more. But because he's a demon, he's strong enough to take whatever she wants to dish out for however long she wants to dish it. Basically, Louhi's got herself an all-you-can-eat pain buffet."

I swallow hard, pushing down the memory of how she treated him in the dream room. Like she owned him. Like...

"You think Buffy should go after him," Giles says.

"Well, that's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Whistler says, his eyes on me. "Sooner or later—and I'm banking on sooner—Louhi's gonna break out. You're gonna have to deal with her when she does. Now, you could go after Spike and slow her down a little, and have your vamp sidekick to help you out. Or you can wait for the big showdown. That's up to you. I'm here because we both screwed up, and the PTB are giving you the chance to make it right. But this is a one time only offer, you understand. We'll help you get him back, if that's what you want. But it's your choice, Slayer. What are you gonna do?"

God, it's so much to take in.

It could have been Angel. He chose to walk away. Spike chose to come to me.

There's so much... too much. I need time to process all of this but I don't have time. Spike doesn't have time. For a moment I wonder if maybe this is payback for all those weeks I spent moving in slow motion after mom died. All the time I took then is rushing back now to catch up with me.

I want to think about everything that Whistler has just dumped on me, but it's going to have to wait until I have a moment to breathe. The only thing I know for sure is that I can't abandon him now. Spike... God, he's been through so much this last year, all for me. He's been my friend, and I don't abandon my friends, no matter what.

"Okay," I say, finally, "other than driving the info dump truck, how can you help?"

"However I can," he says. "If you're serious about going after him, you're gonna need it. Louhi's taken him back to the dimension where she was exiled. It's not easy to get to. I'm supposed to give you whatever help I can to get there. But ultimately only you can go after him, kid. You're the only one who can find him."

"Buffy, might I have a word?" Giles says, glancing from Whistler to me.

I get up and follow him to the corner. "What?" I ask.

"Are you certain that this... person works for the Powers That Be?" he asks. "For all we know he could be sent here to... distract you or lead you into a trap. Thus far we only have his word that any of this is true."

"There's the prophecy," I remind him. "It kinda backs up most of what he said. And yeah, I'm pretty sure he is what he says he is. If it makes you feel better, call Angel. He knows him, but I'm willing to take him on face value. I don't think we have a lot of time, here."

"Buffy, I know you feel responsible for what happened to Spike. But searching for him in another dimension? There are any number of risks, not the least of which is that you might not be able to find your way back. We need you here," he says, his expression concerned. "Besides, all we have right now is this demon goddess's name. We know nothing of her-her powers or abilities, what it is she wants or how she might be trying to achieve it—"

He doesn't want me to do this. I know. And normally, that might mean something. But I feel like the only reason he doesn't want me to go is because it's Spike. If it were Xander or any of the others, he'd be at my side in a heartbeat, trying to help. But Spike... isn't human, and therefore, he's expendable.

I know that feeling. A few weeks ago I was there myself.

"Then we'll figure it out. But we're going to do it fast, Giles," I tell him. He doesn't look convinced, so I try a different tactic. "Look, if she's really using him to draw power, it makes sense to take that away. You didn't see how she was. This chick gets her kicks from pain, and torturing a vampire to death can take a long, long time. No one deserves that, Giles. Not even Spike. I'm going after him. If nothing else, I owe him. The only question now is if you're going to help me, or if you're going to get out of my way."

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?" he says, resigned.

"Nope," I say. "And I'd appreciate it if you helped. I do need some more information on Louhi. Spike had mentioned a few things in his journal but mostly just in passing. I need more, if I'm going to have to face her."

He nods. "Alright. I suppose we can start with the books he set aside. Hopefully Spike's actually been of some practical use and done some of our work for us," he says.

I decide now probably isn't the time to tell him about what else Spike did to his books.

***

"Anya," I say a little while later, while Giles, Lydia, Willow and Tara are going through the book stacks, "what do you know about Louhi?"

She's standing at the window, looking out at the heavy storm clouds overhead, her features pale and pinched. The last time I saw her look so scared was right before the Mayor's Ascension. She sighs.

"Why did I think that it would be a good idea to come back to the Hellmouth?" she asks. When I don't answer, she adds, "That was rhetorical, by the way."

Of all my friends, Anya is the least brave, despite her thousand years or so of demon experience. Xander says that mortality scares her. I figure a hell goddess camped on the doorstep has to have her pretty wigged at the moment. Still, she's our best bet for personal experience with this one. I wait, determined. Finally she seems to cave in on herself a little. I feel bad for making her more scared, but we need this information now.

"Before I was a demon, my people told stories about the witch goddess," she says, sounding less like Anya, and more like she's reciting something from memory. "Her name was Louhi, or sometimes Lovitar. Eventually the stories changed and aspects of her became part of other stories. Hel, in fact, is somewhat based on her. She ruled a land of terrible cold somewhere far to the north. Nearly impossible to reach without aid or help. She... fed on human pain, suffering. She would capture mortals as playthings for her or one of her many daughters, who were bad, but not nearly as evil as their mother. She liked games and challenges, especially if they were impossible, or if they would cause the mortal in question a lot of pain."

"You said she was exiled?" I ask. "How? Maybe we can, you know, lock her back up."

"I don't know," she says, miserably. "They... her powers grew so great, and she became such a threat that finally all the greatest sorcerers and witches gathered and... threw her out. She was far too powerful to destroy so instead they banished her and her kingdom to another dimension, as far from this one as they could. They said it was somewhere east of the sun and west of the moon, which pretty much translates as an impossibly hard to reach place. They hoped that that was the last we'd ever hear from her, and that... trapped as she was, she'd eventually weaken."

She twists her fingers together, then looks up at me with big, scared eyes. "Buffy, this isn't like Adam, or the Mayor. If Louhi's not a goddess, she's powerful enough that she might as well be. Many, many people have tried to kill her before and most of them came back to their families in little boxes. Tiny ones. Sometimes wrapped in someone else's skin. Louhi does things that make other demons whimper in fear. This cold? The storms building? She's amassing power, trying to break free. Time moves differently in hell dimensions. She's been trapped there a long time by our measurement... maybe ten times that by hers. Add to that the indignity of being exiled in the first place... She's not going to be content with just purchasing some real estate on the Hellmouth and raising a few demons."

"Yeah," I say. "I kinda got that picture. We're talking Ice Age here, aren't we?"

"If you want to put it mildly," Anya says. "You know the saying 'when Hell freezes over'? They were talking about Louhi."

***

"Okay, guys. We've got a bit of a time situation, I think," I tell the others a few minutes later. "Whistler, Anya says that time moves differently between dimensions. Last I checked, Hell dimensions move a lot faster, right? So an hour here is like a year there?" He nods. "So the longer we spend looking here, the more time Louhi has to drain Spike and build up power, right?"

"Yeah," he says. "That about sums it up. No telling what the actual time ratio is, but, he's been there a lot longer than he's been gone from here."

"You said he's buying us some time, what did you mean?" I ask.

"I'm not sure," he says. "He's fighting her, somehow. Frankly, we figured she'd be knocking on doors about this time, selling the makeover from hell. Somehow he's managed to keep her from getting enough power to totally break free. Kinda hate to think how."

The thought of Spike at her mercy, fighting her fang and nail fills me with a weird sense of pride and horror. Spike is stubborn and contrary, and I have a feeling he'd let her dust him before he gave her what she wants. Still, that means she's probably torturing him.

Something inside me, in that place where my Slayer strength comes from, growls at that thought.

"Giles," I say, "What do you have for me?"

He shakes his head. "More than I thought," he says, staring at the books laid out on the table. "Most of it seems to agree with Anya's story. Louhi is a demon, but she's also a powerful sorceress or witch. The books fail to agree, however, on the subject of her divinity."

"Can I fight her?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says. "She's variously attributed as having incredible strength, speed, et cetera—much like a very powerful vampire although she prefers not to engage in physical confrontations. There's some indication that either she's a shapeshifter, or that she can cast illusions and glamours. She possesses some control over the elements, particularly ice, wind, water and air, and she's a powerful telekinetic. She could literally stop you in your tracks, then toss you around like a-a beachball without ever lifting a finger."

"Found out about the telekinesis thing the hard way," I said. "What about things that damage her? Enchanted weapons or something?" I ask.

Giles picks up a book and begins to read.

"...great were the glories of warriors
set forth to slay the ice sorceress,
Louhi, dread demon queen.
Sharp were the soldier's swords,
keen were their knife edges,
blessed blades, biting and bright.
They fell like flowers as they fought,
shining swords turned to rust
at the witch's white hand.
No mortal weapon could wound
her hard skin, or harm her..."

"You get the general idea," he says.

"Okay, so fighting bad," I say with a sigh. Damn, this would be so much simpler if I could just beat her up. "So our best bet is for me to Carmen Sandiego him out from under her nose and get him back here, then see if we can't... lock her back up, maybe?"

"There's something else," Giles says. "According to most of these books it wasn't just Louhi who was exiled. It was also any of the creatures under her dominion. I think many of the demons we've been facing over the last few months have... escaped through the cracked cage door, so to speak. Her dimension is likely to be full of them."

"So, basically like walking into Morder and knocking on the doors of Mount Doom?" Xander says. "Buff, that's a suicide mission."

"This isn't negotiable," I tell him. "I'm going."

"Think of it this way, peg-leg," Whistler says. "Louhi's power feeds on human pain. You can damage a vampire for eternity and as long as you keep feeding him, he'll just heal right back up, but most vamps aren't human enough to be of any use to her. William on the other hand has just enough humanity in him to make him useful, and he's strong enough to put up with... well, pretty much whatever she wants to dish out. Which makes him like the Energizer Vampire Bunny—"

Anya squeaks. "Sorry," she says. "That thing gives me the creeps. It just keeps going and going and... with the drum and the glasses... and... sorry. It was just a simile. I get those."

Whistler shakes his head. "No problem. Lot of demons have weird phobias. I've got this thing about fishing nets..." he shudders. "Anyway, so yeah... leaving Spike in her hands pretty much gives Louhi an unlimited source of power to tap."

"If she feeds on... on human pain, though, w-wouldn't Buffy be in danger if she went?" Willow asks. "She's strong, too, and heals really fast."

I shrug. "Comes with the job description," I say. "It's not like it would be the first time, Wills. You know that."

"Yeah but... uh, there was that whole, you know, 'her gift is death' thing, remember?" she says, looking concerned.

"Again, not the first time," I remind her. "Do we have any spells to help us track him?"

Willow, Tara and Giles exchange a glance. "We're working on it," Willow says. "But... um, remember the whole trying to hit a puppy by throwing a bee thing? That's sort of what we're looking at here. He could be anywhere. Even if we managed to narrow it down, there's no guarantee we can get you to the same place or back."

"That's where I come in," Whistler says. "I'm authorized to help a little with that. Show me what you've got and I'll see what we can do to about locking it down so it's less like... what did you call it? Throwing a bee at a puppy? Good analogy."

The four of them gather at the table and start poring over books. "You're gonna need some supplies," Whistler tells me as they do. "You're heading into hostile territory, and there's no telling how long it'll take to track him down once you're there. Pack light," he tells me. "But, uh... warm."

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