When Buffy entered the house, she had to side-step the frenzy of pre-mission activity. Weapons were being handed out according to each person's preference. Buffy had called claim to the sturdy axe Giles kept in his collection. She was in a chopping mood.

Anya chose to wield a baseball bat. Not the most lethal of weapons, but it would work. Ordinarily, Buffy wouldn't want Anya around in combat, but they were facing a large number of foes, as indicated by the video feed. They needed all the numbers on their side that they could get.

Xander and Giles both took up stakes and crosses. While there were a few demons in the mix, most of the group in the cemetery appeared to be vampires.

Buffy suited up, grabbing Spike's coat.

Willow and Tara were laying out the preparations for the spell. They'd stay here, safe and out of the way of the battle. Dawn was quickly ushered up to bed, though she didn't seem to mind in this case.

Buffy put thoughts of 'normal' and Keys and future out of her head during the walk to the cemetery. The others were blessedly quiet. Buffy could imagine they weren't even there.

She entered the cemetery with Xander, Giles, and Anya. The chanting could be heard from the sidewalk. Buffy signaled to her companions to split up. Anya went with Xander to the left while Giles took the right.

The required drugs of the portal ritual would leave the demons easy prey. Buffy remembered how disoriented the drugs had left her. Wholly different from the coke she was used to. She hadn't had any actual hallucinations from the hallucinogen, but it had rearranged her world for a short period of time. The haze of the experience had left her vulnerable when Dehevret's army had attacked.

Well, this time, she had the advantage. No drugs in her system. Clean Buffy.

Buffy approached the circle slowly, aware that sudden movements may draw attention. Her axe was already at ready, prepared to strike.

There were sixteen individuals - twelve vampires, four demons - all on their knees, centered around the spot where the portal was to appear. They had the requisite blood smeared on their faces. She remembered this, not only from her own experience having done the ritual, but from that time five years ago when she'd interrupted the first ritual with Spike.

The more they could knock out with the first strike, the better. First, though, she had to ensure that the portal would open. Otherwise, Spike wouldn't be able to come back.

She scanned the crowd for any sign of the magical whatsit that would split the portal open. The robes the demons wore weren't helping, there. Any one of them could easily hide a magic item from easy view. The only way she'd be able to find it was by waiting to see it as the demon went through the portal. And then, of course, it would be too late.

She wouldn't allow that.

The first small flickers of light formed in the middle of the circle. The portal was appearing.

At that moment, Buffy felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned, expecting to see one of her teammates.

It was a vampire.

A fist flew at her. Buffy ducked. So the demons had set up sentries. Smart demons. Not so good for her side.

Buffy turned the duck into a fluid side-step, throwing a punch to the side of the vampire in front of her. The creature hissed and pivoted to face her.

Beyond her field of vision, Buffy heard her friends fighting. They couldn't waste time with these sentries. Buffy swung her axe, hoping to dispatch of the guard vampire quickly. He stepped backward and jabbed at Buffy's side, taking advantage of her having to step into the swing.

She compensated and spun around, using the handle of the axe to sweep the vampire's feet out from under him. He fell to the ground. Buffy dropped the axe and drew a stake, stabbing it into the heart.

Finally dispatching of the sentry, Buffy turned again to the portal. The demons were snapping out of their drug fugue. Soon, they'd be making a beeline to the portal.

Buffy charged. Now or never, after all.

One demon was beheaded before the group caught on to what was going on. Buffy kicked its body over, quickly looking for the portal-breaking doodad. Nothing immediately apparent. She didn't have time for a more thorough inspection, however, as the demons had turned to her.

Carefully avoiding falling into the portal, herself, Buffy took up a stance in front of it, axe at ready. One of the demons rushed her on shaky legs. It roared. Buffy swung her axe and chopped, only to have her blade bounce back out at the dense mass of muscle just below the skin. Great. One of those demons.

Buffy kicked, sending the demon soaring backwards. That would buy her some time.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Giles enter the fray. He looked to be uninjured, and he was making his way to the portal, as well, to guard it alongside Buffy.

Good. The more people the better. This crowd of demons was swiftly getting rowdy.

A new demon made a hacking noise at her, something Buffy could only interpret as a battle cry. It wasn't very threatening, but it heralded its charge at her. When she swung her axe, it ducked, wrapping its arms around her legs and sending her flying backwards. The weight of the demon kept her pinned momentarily, and she took a couple punches to the face before she regained her composure.

She jabbed the butt of the axe into the demon's stomach. Then she delivered a harsh knee to the groin. The creature howled and fell back. She kicked it the rest of the way off her and flipped to her feet. She shifted her grip on the axe to deliver the final blow, bringing the blade down on the head of the beast.

A solid strike. She swung the blade up and behind her to take out the vampire there, as well. Trying to be sneaky. She wouldn't fall for that.

But she would fall for the other demon - the muscle-bound one - that appeared on her left and snatched the axe from her hand. Buffy drew her stake, not deterred by the loss of her primary weapon.

Xander and Anya soon joined the central fight. Buffy eyed the portal nervously. How long would it stay open? Had Willow's spell gone correctly? Why hadn't Spike crossed through yet? The fight before her with the demons seemed routine in the face of such questions.

Muscle swung the axe at her. Though the guy was bulk personified, he didn't move too fast. Of course, if he got a good blow on her, he wouldn't need to. Buffy ducked and swooped around behind him. She tried to land a kick to his back, but he didn't budge. Instead, he lumbered around and grabbed her leg. With a yank, he had her off her feet and on her back.

Buffy managed to roll out of the way before Muscle brought the axe down on her. Well, almost. He managed to score a hit to her left arm. It was only a scratch, though, and Buffy shrugged off the wound. She came back to her feet and made a charge under Muscle's axe, grabbing him around the abdomen and bowling him over.

As Muscle fell, Buffy grabbed for the axe. No way would a stake take this guy out. Muscle wasn't giving up the weapon so easily, though. They mimicked a five year old's tug-of-war game for a few seconds before Muscle released the weapon. Unfortunately, his doing so planted the corner of the blade in Buffy's stomach.

"Oof!" Buffy fell backwards, holding her side. It felt like her insides were bleeding out. She winced.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Muscle stood and fetched the blade again, drawing it high to bring down on Buffy.

Buffy closed her eyes. This was not how this was gonna go. She'd been through too fucking much to let some bulge-y demonget the best of her.

Ignoring the pain in her gut, Buffy hefted her legs to kick up at Muscle's diaphragm. Success. He dropped the axe. In a smooth motion, Buffy flipped to her feet, grabbed the axe in mid-air and sliced at Muscle's chest.

Still not enough to kill the fucker. He stumbled backward, staring in surprise at the slash wound on his torso. Buffy didn't give him the opportunity to regroup. She surged forward, the movement stretching at the axe wound in her side. She buried the axe in Muscle's throat, forcing her muscles to keep holding when they met with resistance.

Muscle roared and swung a clawed hand out to bat Buffy away. She ignored him, all focus on the axe and his throat. Inch by inch, the weapon traveled through hard flesh until finally - finally! - it swung free, leaving a lethal gash..

Muscle fell over. Buffy almost went with him. As the object of her focus died, her compilation of wounds started screaming in surround sound. Muscle had left her not only with an axe injury but with deep gouges along her neck and arms.

It didn't matter. The blood and scratches didn't matter. Buffy felt centered, in control, undefeated. The air she breathed was earned, and she welcomed it gladly. She closed her eyes to better feel the strength of her body. 

"Buffy!"

Xander cried for help. Buffy didn't have a chance to enjoy the victory. She turned to see Xander and Anya caught between the remaining demon and two vampires. The demon had Xander by the throat and was not at all put off by Anya's pummeling him with the baseball bat.

As she watched, one of the vampires tossed a cloth-covered item to another vampire, who turned to the portal.

Xander could wait. Buffy ran for the portal-bound vamp.

****

Daylight had seen Spike given his own tent, replete with all the luxuries he'd been lacking in the supply tent. He was a guest now, not a prisoner.

Spike had concocted a wild tale for Dehevret last night. The Slayer had access to the US military and would have weapons beyond what the demon could imagine. Tanks and missiles and flying ponies were at her disposal. She had a direct line to Godzilla, a terrifying monster who could crush whole armies with its lethal stomps.

As such, sending all the troops in at once would be foolhardy. The Slayer would wipe them out immediately. Dehevret would be best sending a small regiment in as a decoy to occupy the Slayer, then follow with a handful of skilled wizards who could neutralize the Slayer's weaponry quietly.

Of course, Spike knew it would never come to this. Buffy would leave him on this side before she let the portal become open for demon business. Still, having Dehevret organize his troops in such a fashion would be in Spike's best interest when it came time for him to cross over.

By all accounts, that time would be soon.

The day had been long. He'd had little to do other than dozing in the bed he'd been provided. He'd needed something to distract him. Something besides what had been distracting him the whole day.

It couldn't be guilt, he knew that much. The soul wasn't settled in him enough to make him feel guilt. So why did his stomach ache?

And why did closing his eyes make him see everything?

It shouldn't matter. He was resolute on this. It had been necessary. Without it, he wouldn't be able to get home.

He had to do it.

He had to.

One hundred years of mayhem and murder and he was getting choked up over one insignificant chit? It was ridiculous.

Demons didn't change.

He didn't change.

When he closed his eyes, he saw her as she finally screamed. Her eyes bled hatred for him. He couldn't blame her.

He had to do it.

At midday, the flap of the tent had opened and a human slave walked in. He carried a tray of food. Not the coarse rabbit Spike had been treated to earlier. Now he was being served fine lamb with seasoned vegetables and a goblet of warm blood. The slave bent to place the tray on a table beside Spike's bed.

"Do you know where Avery is?" Spike asked without thinking as he sat up.

The man flinched and looked behind him as if expecting Spike to have been talking to someone else. After a moment, he spoke with a heavy Mexican accent, "I can bring her to you, if you'd like - "

"No!" Spike startled the man again. "No. She's...is she okay?"

That had the slave confused beyond reason. Probably had been a slave since birth. He knew no courtesy or consideration. The idea of a demon giving a damn about a human was untenable to him.

"She is working."

Spike shook his head. Best to let the man go. He waved a hand in a gesture for the slave to leave. Before he reached the opening of the tent, though, Spike couldn't help but ask, "What's your name?"

The man turned, sunlight falling over his features. "They call me gruñido."

"Right." Spike sighed. "They would."

Gruñido had left. Spike inspected his food. The meal, itself, was unnecessary. He didn't think he could stomach it, anyway. He grabbed the goblet of blood and held it to his nose.

B neg. Human.

He'd grimaced and poured the blood out onto the grass beside him.

He'd spent the rest of the day pacing the roomy tent and waiting for sundown. He itched to get away from this world. Had done for a full five years, but the longing was more pronounced now than ever. No doubt because of how close he was to accomplishing his goal. The fact that he had someone waiting for him on the other side didn't hurt.

It was more, though. This world had been intolerable in its unfamiliarity before. Then it had been an inconvenience. Yes, he'd been able to get his chip removed over here. That should have made him happy. However, the outcome was the same. With the lack of humans, he'd still been relegated to pig's blood. And with a world ruled by demons, he couldn't even blend in with the local population enough to enjoy a spot of pool or drinks at the bar. 

There was nothing to do. He'd gotten bored. At least his own world would let him go bowling on occasion.

If he wanted to.

So he'd put the effort in to go home. Shoved a soul in himself, found Buffy, made the journey. Buffy was both worse and better than her previous incarnation. Worse: a drug addict. Better: he was able to fuck her. The latter balanced out the former to produce a wild streak of ambivalence in him until she got her powers back. Couldn't fuck her, then, but that somehow made her even better in his estimation.

The demons, though. Ever prevalent and threatening. And who was Spike trying to fool? He was one of them. He knew it. Dehevret knew it. Buffy knew it. He'd proven it last night. He could try to hide himself away for five years and pretend to be harmless to all but pigs, but he wasn't.

He belonged here.

But damned if he was going to stay here. Maybe he was riding on delusions of Buffy loving him, but he would go to the other side and try to earn his keep there, no matter the cost. Cause if this world was where he belonged, then being a demon was surely the lowliest of hells. Put him on the righteous side of Good and give him a fucking blooming onion.

The sun set. When Spike looked outside, Dehevret's troops were forming up around the portal site. Ugvan stood outside his own tent beside Spike's. He looked over as Spike walked into the evening air.

"Ready for the show?" Ugvan asked. He pulled a folding chair from his tent and plopped it open. "I think I have another chair in there, if you want."

Spike shook his head. He looked around. He needed to find an isolated spot to observe the proceedings. Someplace close, though, so he could make a quick dash to the portal when the time came.

"View's shit here," Spike said by way of explanation.

Ugvan bobbed his head but didn't seem at all put out by the tall soldiers blocking his vision. "That's where being a wizard comes in handy, my boy!" He lifted a pair of metal opera glasses to his face. They flickered with the tell-tale signs of magic. Ugvan grinned, showing teeth. "Can see perfectly."

"Right, well, I'll leave you to that."

Spike left, eager to get away from Ugvan. 

Dehevret's men had dug ditches at the edge of the camp for latrines. It was behind the cover of the tents, yet not a long distance from where the portal would appear. Because of the hideous smell, nobody else occupied that area.

Spike staked it out as his spot to wait.

He felt like a right idiot staring at a blank spot of air. However, at least he had the whole army with him. The sun had only recently set, and darkness was still settling over the camp.

Spike would have a small window of time to get through the portal. He wasn't sure what Buffy had planned to make that work. He assumed he would know when it happened. If worse came to worse, he would just take a leap through the portal to see what happened. Maybe she'd had the witches code some special "Spike exception" into the thing.

Whatever it was, he'd get home.

He wished he had snatched a deck of cards or something to keep himself entertained. There was only so much time he could spend bouncing on the balls of his feet without getting hopelessly bored. The stench from the latrines made his situation even worse.

He sighed in relief when the portal cracked open. An opaque blue oval hovered before the army.

Nobody moved. They were waiting for something else. Spike supposed that the breaking of the portal would come with some visual cue. Until then, everybody was expected to hold their position. Dehevret watched calmly from horseback.

Spike held his position.

No wind blew. The camp remained still as if holding its breath in anticipation. It occurred to Spike what a dodgy plan this was for Dehevret. It relied on his people on the other side successfully coming through, something that had failed once before. And yet, the demon goes to the effort of bringing his army all the wait out to this remote region on the chance that he could invade?

The portal effervesced. 

Far more likely for Dehevret to use this as a ploy to gain a foothold in this area of his own dimension. His reach didn't quite extend this far west of Cathela. Maybe Dehevret had a Plan B. Maybe this was the Plan B. 

Maybe it didn't really matter. Spike reminded himself that he didn't give a fuck as long as he made it home. Dehevret could have plans to plant daisies across the country for all Spike could care.

Spike's thoughts aborted. Dirt hit his knees as his legs gave out. Spike clutched his chest, and his eyes closed to the bright portal ahead. Something was being pried from him.

No.

No, it was being pushed out to make room for something else.

Something bigger.

Something his.

As his chest ripped open, it dawned on Spike exactly how Buffy was getting him across the portal. 

As that moment of realization passed, Spike forgot.

Everything.

Except that he was very late, the party had gone very poorly - as he'd expected - and his mother had a habit of staying up in anticipation of his arrival home. As such, he couldn't allow himself to be detained by a pickpocket or prostitute or whatever this young lady was.

But the young lady was gone, and there were rock and tents where the alley had been.

William squeezed his eyes shut, knowing there was some knowledge he was missing, but he couldn't ascertain what it might be.

"Spike!"

A voice, familiar and foreign at the same time. When he opened his eyes, another young woman stood before him. Her legs were unsteady, one having been badly mangled. The other looked crippled as well, though not as thoroughly. Bruises marred her face, though stubborn determination adorned her visage underneath.

Avery?

He'd done that. He clawed at his chest where his heart should be. A reflex to fend off the horror of...oh, God, he'd done so much worse.

"Your promise," Avery said.

Promise? He'd promised her something?

Yes, the deal. So he could get through the portal. The portal had been the be all-end all of everything. He'd done everything, given everything, taken everything just to get through it. The evidence was before him.

He should let the damn thing shut without him. A being like him, the things he'd done, he deserved to stay in this world. Demons, all of them. He thought he was above the likes of Dehevret? He merely hid it better. 

The portal had the rights of it. Divide things up: Good and Evil. Good to the good side. Evil to the shit side. It knew what it had been doing when it bounced him back and cast him away from the good side. It knew. He'd rejected it, but it knew and now he knew and now he accepted it.

Avery limped closer to him. "You promised."

She looked angry. Of course she did. She was angry. He'd betrayed her, used her, tortured her. He'd known it was wrong. The other soul had told him so. His instincts had told him so. He hadn't cared.

He'd weighed the pros and cons and decided to do it anyway.

Was there a more worthless creature? A creature more worthy of being called "demon"?

Now Avery was asking him to fulfill his one obligation, and he couldn't do it.

Couldn't.

Not with the soul - his soul - wrapping a guillotine around his heart and piercing him with his innumerable crimes of over one hundred years. One more? Too many. It was already too many. How could he take on another?

Avery glanced behind his shoulder.

"Your ride home's about to fizzle," she said. "You better fucking make it all worth it."

"Come with me," he said. It was the only way out his soul would allow him now. Take Avery back to Sunnydale. Get her a nice flat somewhere. Set her up as a fortune-teller at that magic shop Giles had or something. 

Avery looked at him as if he'd gone crazy. "No," she said so matter-of-factly, Spike felt stupid for even 
having asked.

He wanted to cry in frustration. Maybe he was crying. His body was numb. He couldn't feel his skin or his tears or his grief. Only his guilt bled through to his nerves.

This was wrong. He knew this with a clarity that he'd never been privy to before.

What was one more sin on top of the pile? Is there a point where it didn't matter anymore?
Spike stood to touch Avery's cheek. She didn't flinch, though she should have. "You want it?" he asked.

There was no hesitation on her part. She nodded once and held his gaze. "Yes."

The touch became a firm grip. Spike wrapped his other arm around her head and twisted with sure strength. Her neck snapped, her eyes still open. Her body didn't fall immediately. It hung like a classroom skeleton, bouncing slightly as confused nerves received hollow impulses from a dead brain. Then the body collapsed to crumple at his feet.

Spike held back the sob.

One more sin. Only one more. Didn't matter in the long run.

The portal also hung like a skeleton. It was now or never. Why should he cross back over? This world was hell. Didn't he fit in perfectly? Why should he be granted a reprieve? Didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

****

Buffy had the cloth-covered statue in hand, vampire dust falling among the folds of cotton. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now there was just the issue of Spike coming back through.

She looked to the portal, which seemed to be on its last legs. How long would that thing stay open? And where was Spike?

"Buffy!!!"

With a cringe, Buffy remembered that Xander was in trouble. She turned, strangely indifferent. She stuffed the statue into her pocket and raced to her friend and the demon that held him.

Anya had taken out one of the vampires, but the other one had drawn her away from her boyfriend. She wasn't in dire straits, though. Buffy concentrated on the fuzzy demon that kept Xander in a choke-hold. Her friend was going limp.

Buffy stabbed the butt of the axe into the demon's face. The quick attack caused it to release Xander. He fell to the ground.

Buffy raised the axe as the creature staggered backward. She swung and chopped through its veiny neck.

The head fell beside Xander's body.

The force of the swing tore at Buffy's wound. She winced and pushed a hand to her side.

She looked behind her to the portal. She could dive into it, herself, to fetch Spike.

But no. She didn't know where it would spit her out.

She could only stay. And wait.

****

Spike stared at the hard earth before him, though he didn't see it. Dehevret's army shifted in restlessness. The troops began to grumble and the spear points that had formerly been held erect wavered. Dehevret, himself, frowned and conferred with his lieutenants. And the portal...

The portal was closing.

Spike remained on his knees by Avery's body. He was going to let it close without him. Without his worthless self on the good side. Better that he be over here where the demons were.

Better.

Except that Buffy wanted him over there. She'd engineered this whole thing so that he could cross over.

Spike raised his head.

Couldn't disappoint Buffy. Couldn't let her down. She, who had every reason to hate and fear him as much as any other human, wanted him with her. 

She was waiting for him.

Hercules' trials were nothing compared to the effort it took Spike to stand. His soul - freshly returned to him - throbbed. All he wanted was to cry out his anguish and curl in on himself. He wanted to rip his own flesh and tear the demon out. He wanted to keep vigil beside Avery's body until the sun came and dusted him.

But more than all of that, he wanted to give Buffy what she wanted.

This need drove him. His legs, always connected more strongly to his heart than his head, began their dash. Maybe he wouldn't even make it. At least he'd try.

The army didn't react to him until he was twenty yards away. Spike held on to his soul and his hope and his penitence. He'd need all of them.

He heard and ignored the shouts from Dehevret's men. A couple of crossbow shots hit the ground behind his feet. He was too fast for them.

The portal was close. Fifteen yards.

Ten.

Five.

Dehevret blocked his path atop his horse. The horse reared as Spike came to a sudden halt. The portal dwindled.

"I don't abide betrayal, vampire," Dehevret said coolly.

Spike looked up at the demon. So much taller than him. He giggled at the absurdity of Dehevret's words.

"What do you expect from a demon, mate?" he replied.

Dehevret's eyes narrowed. "You won't make it through."

"Listen," Spike spoke quickly. "You've lost, yeah? The portal isn't going to let your little soldier men over. Take your toys, go home. But leave this for me, alright? Please?"

Dehevret studied Spike. It would have been uncomfortable if Spike had been paying attention. All of his focus, however, was on the portal. So close, yet effectively out of reach unless Dehevret let him through. Spike wouldn't fool himself in thinking he could get past the demon leader without dying an instant death.

With a wave, Dehevret urged his horse back and ushered Spike to the portal.

Spike didn't spare a thought for the reasons. 

He jumped.

Through worlds, his mind turned, he landed hard on the other side. He rolled into a gravestone in the middle of the late stage of a battle. His presence seemed to go unnoticed, and for that, Spike was grateful. It allowed him to hunker down against the gravestone, hold his head, recover from the journey.

"Spike!"

Buffy's voice.

Spike looked up. She wore his coat. Blood smeared her neck - demon blood and her blood. Her hair was short and loose, strands tousled in front of her face. She held an axe in one hand and a look of hope in her eyes.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd set eyes on.

Spike keeled over on himself. The pain was too much. Must be the portal, ripping at him. He groaned a scream as the world went black.

****

Dehevret allowed his horse to set a leisurely pace back to his waiting army. There was no rush now. This prolonged plan had resulted in little reward for his efforts. It was frustrating, but not entirely unexpected.

H'lyack, his trusted lieutenant, trotted up to him. The Beyol demon had been with Dehevret for near on a century and had the battle scars to prove it. Dehevret valued loyalty in his subordinates.

"Orders, sir?"

"Ready the men," Dehevret said. "We take Cathela by morning. We'll acquire something from this jaunt."

H'lyack nodded, though he hesitated before turning away to carry out his orders. 

"You let the vampire go?" he questioned. "We could have at least sold him back to Ugvan."

Dehevret looked back to the now closed portal. "He has his own soul back. He doesn't belong here anymore."

tbc...