[A/N: Oh so slowly we creep toward a resolution for this portion of Origins; and yes, there is more story to be told. I am however, going to be taking a short break and attempt to work on something else before I tackle the next tale. I hope you’ll all be patient and read whatever else the muse wants. My thanks again to Tam, without whom much of this wouldn’t have been done and you sure as hell wouldn’t be getting this chapter this week. Title and quotes are as attributed. I own nothing.]

Previously: Giles kissed Anya after she bandaged his leg; the hounds have Willow; Connor is missing; Spike killed Angel; and the Huntsman wants Buffy to accompany him to the Otherworld. This picks up immediately following the last installment.


Book Two. Chapter 66. No one mourns the wicked


Be careful that victories do not carry the seed of future defeats.
Ralph W. Sockman

Action springs not from thought,
but from a readiness for responsibility.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer

No one mourns the Wicked
No one cries "They won't return!"
No one lays a lily on their grave
The good man scorns the Wicked!
Through their lives, our children learn
What we miss, when we misbehave:
And Goodness knows
The Wicked's lives are lonely
Goodness knows
The Wicked die alone
It just shows when you're Wicked
You're left only
On your own
Yes, Goodness knows
The Wicked's lives are lonely
Goodness knows
The Wicked cry alone
Nothing grows for the Wicked
They reap only
What they sow
Stephen Schwartz, No One Mourns The Wicked, from the musical Wicked




Buffy stared at the spot where Connor had been, tears of frustration blurring her vision. Oh God, where is he? Please let him be safe. He’s only a little baby.

An eerie shriek splitting the silence galvanized her and she angrily wiped the tears away.

She flipped effortlessly off the roof, hoping to catch the dogs before there was nothing left of Willow to undo what she’d done. Buffy was all prepared for battle, only what she landed in the midst of was something else entirely.

Willow was on the ground, circled by a ring of the huge hounds, while everyone stood watching them. Wesley still had his arm around Dawn, who looked about ready to collapse, while Tara stood by silently. Faith was standing suspiciously close to Jenner, but Buffy made no comment, didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

She took two steps forward, intending to get to Willow and shake Connor’s whereabouts from her, when the biggest human she’d ever seen called off the hounds. He was just like Dawn had described him, all huge and hairy. . .

Her heightened sense of smell caught his scent and she wrinkled her nose, fighting an unexpected wave of nausea. She was completely caught off-guard, though, when he bowed and began speaking.

His voice was deep, like rocks breaking through the earth, and she understood not one syllable of his words. She looked around at the others for help, but everyone returned her bewildered stares, even Jenner.

All except Dawn.

Her voice hesitated, then at a nod from the Huntsman, she translated.

“Greetings, Chosen One.”

Buffy smiled nervously, aware if she opened her mouth, nothing but nonsense would emerge, though she tried anyway. “Hi. Ah, I mean . . . greetings.”

“The betrayer has been revealed. Judgment awaits her.”

He waited for this to sink in, letting them understand his purpose.

“She must stand before the Seelie Court and learn her fate.”

Once more he paused, letting Dawn translate.

“Who’s supposed to judge her? Where’s this Seelie Court? I need to ask her where. . . . you don’t get to take her until I get an answer. We have to find out what she did with Connor, where he is.” The set of her shoulders belied the quaver in her voice, as did her stance. Faith edged up to stand almost behind her and started to speak when the Huntsman gestured for silence.

“The infant’s rescue is in the hands of another. It is for you to see to the betrayer. My lord requests this. Her betrayal demands this.”

For the third time he paused, waiting patiently for Dawn to finish.

“You must accompany the witch to the Seelie Court.”

Buffy started to speak when Spike’s emphatic ‘no’ interrupted.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


It was too quiet outside the house. Far too quiet. Giles lifted his head up, no longer watching Anya finish bandaging his leg.

All the noise had stopped and an eerie silence filled the night. Anya started to speak and he placed a warning finger over her lips. “Quiet, dear.”

She froze, for one heartbeat thinking he was dismissing her the way Xander always did; until she glanced up. His attention was riveted on the hallway leading to the front door, his eyes dark with concentration.

“It’s too quiet outside. Something’s happened.”

As he finished, an ear-piercing wail filled the night, raising gooseflesh and the hairs on the back of his neck. Grabbing Anya’s hand, Rupert stood up, tested his leg for stability and dragged her toward the back door. “Follow me, quietly.”

They rounded the side of the house, noting all the discarded weapons and piles of dust. No bodies, which is a good sign. I hope.

He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Anya’s whisper reached his ears. “Of course it’s a good sign. It can’t be anything but a good sign.”

Giles pulled up short, the hand not holding Anya’s pointing at the tableau in front of them. “It’s not all sunshine and roses yet either.”

Anya shifted her gaze away from his face. “How is this not good? Everyone’s here.”

“Almost everyone. I don’t see Spike . . . and where is Connor?” Giles looked around, his eyes focused on the hounds, some of which were growling and pawing at Willow’s still figure. “And I’m not sure the hounds are completely under control.”

“What’s he saying? Do you understand that?” Anya stepped closer.

“Not all of it.” They shared a look when Dawn began speaking, falling silent as the exchange went on.

When the Huntsman indicated Buffy was required to accompany Willow, Giles shook his head in denial, but his words were forestalled by another’s. He looked up in relief when Spike stepped out of the shadows.

“No.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Her body slumped just slightly the second his voice washed through her. He’s safe. He’s here. Buffy knew in her bones had anything dire happened to him, she would be a mess. Almost losing him once had taught her that. Her eyes devoured him, noting the rips and tears on his shirt, the darker glistening patches on the duster, and the blood sluggishly oozing from various cuts on his face.

Spike swept his eyes over her form, ignoring the others. He strode past the Huntsman and the Cwn Annwn, footsteps purposeful. Once he was in touching distance, Spike gathered her into his arms.

Buffy didn’t realize she was trembling until his arms settled around her. “‘S all right, kitten, ‘m fine.”

“You’re hurt.” Her hands slipped inside the duster, checking him for damage.

“No, I’m not. Not really.” His hands swept down her back, soothing her. “Jus’ breath, sweets.”

“Oh, God. . . . oh, God.” Buffy pulled back, looking up into his eyes. “You did it. He’s gone.”

“Yeah,” was all he said. Spike braced for her anger, instead what he got was an armful of Buffy, whispering softly into his chest. “You’re safe. Thank you. Oh, God, you’re safe.”

His arms closed around her once more, cradling her gently. The breath she’d been holding released and Buffy held onto him, her fingers digging into his sides. Spike didn’t even notice. He did the same, holding onto her just as hard. He leaned down, his nose nuzzling against her. “You all right, pet?”

He felt her nod in answer, so he asked the next logical question. “Baby’s all right?”

“Yeah, we’re both fine.”

His hand ran down her side, squeezing her rump. “Where’s the sprog?”

Once more Buffy lifted tear-filled eyes to his. “I don’t know. Willow. . . . oh, Spike, I just don’t know what happened. He was in . . . Faith had him, and then Willow and he just disappeared.”

Spike’s temper, which had eased somewhat, rose again. “What? He disappeared?”

He moved away from Buffy, intent on getting to the downed witch.

The Huntsman held up his hand to forestall Spike’s movement and he spoke again. “The Chosen One’s presence is needed.”

Spike looked up once Dawn was finished, his voice firm and resolute. “She’s not going anywhere.”

For the first time the Huntsman’s expression changed. His deep rumbling sigh shook the ground and despite the solemnity of the situation, he smiled. “She needs must accompany the witch.”

“An’ what guaranty do I have she’ll come back?” Spike tucked her close, his arm protectively around her shoulders. “Remember all the legends, mate, ‘bout humans goin’ into the Otherworld, only to come back a hundred years later, if not more. Slayer stays here. You’ve got the witch.”

“The betrayer must face the one she betrayed.” He paused, exasperation now clearly on his face. “You have the word of the Sidhe, the Chosen One will return.”

Spike snapped back, “In who’s time? Not lettin’ her go, not without a bit more assurance.”

Before either man could continue, Jenner interrupted. “Iron will keep her safe.”

All eyes swung to him, waiting for his explanation. “Humans with iron on them cannot be kept by the Sidhe. They’ll have no choice but to let her go.”

Despite his misgivings, that news did placate Spike somewhat. “She’ll come back when?”

“My word we will ensure her return in one of your days.” The Huntsman directed his comments to Spike. “My lord will not hold her.”

“Any kind of iron?” Spike ignored the Huntsman for a moment, directing his question at Jenner.

“Yeah. Blades work best, but any bit of iron will do.”

“Rupert.” The Watcher’s head snapped to, knowing what Spike’s next words would be. “Got any iron weapons hanging about?”

As soon as Jenner had spoken, it had jogged Giles’ memory and he’d started searching his brain for any iron weapons they might have stored away. Unfortunately, none came to mind. They had bone, glass, steel, volcanic rock, and any number of odd ritualistic weapons, but sadly none of them were iron. Save one.

“Olaf’s hammer.”

“Bit of overkill. No swords or shields?” Buffy bit back a smile at Spike’s rejection of her carrying the troll god’s hammer as protection.

“Wait.” Faith moved away from Jenner’s side, fishing into her cleavage. “Here, B, take this.”

Lifting a heavy silver chain from around her neck, Faith handed Buffy an iron cross. It fit into the palm of her hand and Buffy stared down at it.

It was black, simple except for the flared ends and the increasingly smaller crosses that culminated in an intricate crown of thorns in the middle. She closed her fist around it, tucking it into her jeans’ pocket. Buffy looked up at Spike, who once again reached for her hands. She stared into his eyes, trying to convey her jumbled thoughts. Without turning from Spike, she spoke. “We have to get Connor back first. He’s helpless and. . . . we have to find him. I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s safe.”

The Huntsman pondered this, his eyes fixed, oddly enough, on the alpha pair of hounds. They seemed to converse for a few moments, then as the giant was about to speak, Anya cried out, “Wait!”

All eyes turned to stare at her and she broke away from Giles, pointing at Tara, “‘Remember this’ she said. Well, we didn’t. Or almost didn’t.”

Tara looked utterly bewildered for a moment. Her lips quirked and she opened her mouth as if to speak, but couldn’t make a sound until Anya prompted her. “Gaia . . . she came just before Willow broke the wards. She said. . . . she said. . . .”

Exasperated with Tara’s hesitancy, Anya blurted out, “Only a dead man can cross the boundaries, and the price isn’t permanent.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means ‘m gonna get the sprog.” Spike glanced at Dawn, who had posed the question, then looked to Buffy. He didn’t need to explain it; they both knew what the price was for. Now, they needed to narrow down where Connor might be. Not letting go of Buffy’s hand, Spike turned to the two girls. “She say anythin’ else?”

“No. Just that when the time came, I would know what to do.” Tara shrugged, looking more than a bit apologetic. “All I could think of was to keep him safe, because he couldn’t protect himself.”

“The youngling is destined to be a warrior.” Two of the younger hounds yipped and he pointed to Spike. “Blood calls to blood. Blood is the key.” He snapped his fingers and the two hounds crouched at Spike’s feet. “They will guide and aid you.

It is time.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Lawson circled around the obviously distraught figure of Drusilla, who was still weeping her grief into her hands. Soft sobs broke up her incoherent mumblings, and Sam couldn’t quite figure out who she was grieving over. He looked up to where Spike and Angel had been fighting, hoping to get some sort of answer, but neither vampire was there and it hardly looked like a fight had even occurred. Sam dared not move any closer to Drusilla, wary of her volatile and unpredictable nature, though he wanted to hear what she was saying.

The sense of loss and disconnection gave him some inkling. He could feel bonds loosen and sever inside him, familial bonds, but because of his recent re-siring, Lawson couldn’t tell which of the vampires claiming him as childe was no more.

His hope, given Drusilla’s reaction, was that it had been Angel who’d been destroyed, but Lawson knew his luck was never that good. He could hear voices from the side of the house, and focused on them. He didn’t dare turn his back on Drusilla, though, knowing she would strike without hesitation.

The voices were low, the words nearly indistinguishable, until one strident voice broke through. One of the women, by the timbre, but Sam couldn’t be sure. He turned away at the sound to try and identify it, but he was unable to. A whisper of movement caught his ear from behind, and Sam realized a split second too late that he’d taken his attention away from Drusilla. He whirled around only to find nothing there.

Drusilla was gone.

He spun around again, thinking she’d slipped behind him, but encountered only air.

She was gone.

Her scent lingered, blood mixed with tears, and Sam couldn’t find a reason to chase after her and end it.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suiting actions to his words, the Huntsman leaned down, wrapped a massive hand around Willow’s waist and swept her lax form up into his arms.

He turned around without waiting to see if Buffy was following him. Pausing only to acknowledge Dawn, the Huntsman strode away from the houses and into the middle of the street. The hounds trailed after, except for the pair at Spike’s feet.

Once in the street, the Huntsman looked back at Buffy. “My promise also, I freely give. Only one day of your time will pass.”

He spoke again, the words coming one upon the other, too fast for Dawn to translate. The air in front of him shimmered and light began leaking through the darkness, as bright as sunshine.

“Come.” Beckoning to Buffy he directed the Cwn Annwn through the doorway.

Buffy hesitated, not wanting to leave and she kept hold of Spike’s hand until the very last instant. Without a word, she stepped through, disappearing from sight.

A low growl emerged from Spike’s throat and he stared hard at the Huntsman. “See that you keep your promise. One day is all you get, an’ then ‘m coming.”

The giant nodded once and stepped through, the portal closing silently behind him.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


He didn’t want to let her go. Didn’t trust the word of a giant three times his size. Yet Spike had no choice.

Willow’s betrayal demanded justice. According to the Huntsman, only Buffy could go.

Spike stared at the spot she’d disappeared from, willing the time to pass more quickly. Part of him wanted to do nothing more than stand in that same spot until she returned. Realizing the idiocy of that desire coupled with the knowledge he and the others had work to do had him looking around to see who was still standing.

Tara was staring at him, a look upon her face that had his guts clenching and wishing he hadn’t. Obviously she still harbored some feelings for the redhead, otherwise the Huntsman’s actions wouldn’t have caused that look or the emotion behind it. His anger with Willow ran too deep, but Tara was one of his girls and she needed a kind word.

“C’mon, love, let’s head inside an’ suss all this out.”

She nodded absently, motioning down to the wolf crouched at her feet. “I . . . yeah. Should see about Dawnie. And you need stuff.” Her voice cracked and hitched, and tears slid down her cheeks. “Connor’s gonna be scared.”

“Oh, Pidge, it’s gonna be all right. I’ll get ‘im back.” Spike pointed her toward the house. “Go on inside. ‘M gonna get Dawn.”

She stumbled away, tears blurring her vision and Spike shook his head, about to see to Dawn when Tara stopped and called him back. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know how to find him.” She’d squared her shoulders, once more digging deep for strength and guidance.

“Right then, I’ll just be a mo’.” Spike turned around again, surveying the damage on the yard. He didn’t see Tara wobble, didn’t see her put out a hand to catch herself or the wolf’s reaction to Tara’s distress. The werewolf nudged against Tara, helping her into the house.

He should be feeling something – euphoria, happiness – something other than this grim satisfaction. He’d done it, bested Angel and rid the world of his stultifying presence. Accomplished something – taken care of the demon that had spent months terrorizing his family.

He was more worried about Buffy and the baby – babies – so he felt no need to crow. He’d killed his sire’s sire. And yet there was nothing.

Spike stared off, his eyes registering Wesley helping Dawn into the house, Giles limping behind while Anya took up the caboose position.

There should have been some anger, some grief. . . . . something, he thought. Not feelin’ a thing. No sense of familial loss, no great, gaping hole where connection to Angelus lay. There was nothing. He felt a trace of Drusilla’s grief, but it was distant, numbed and stretched thin, almost as if years had already passed.

Jenner stepped up next to him, warily watching his too still form. He started to speak, then at a closer look at Spike’s profile, Jenner changed his mind.

The two males, the last of the Aurelian master vampires, stood in silence.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


As she stepped into the shimmering portal, Buffy tugged the iron cross from her pocket. Clutching it closely in her tight fist, she glanced around at her surroundings.

Bright sunlight blinded her momentarily and she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted. Blue skies with high, thin mare’s tail clouds stretched as far as she could see. A grove of apple trees stood off to her left and the smell had her mouth watering. To her right was a wide grass-lined avenue littered with carved standing stones, mixed with tall hazel trees giving way to taller, statelier oaks. Though the sky was just as clear in that direction, a cool breeze wafted over her and Buffy fought the shivers.

“Our way lies not on that path.” The Huntsman stepped beside her, his voice coming down from his great height.

“How come I can understand you now?” Buffy craned her head up, shielding her eyes so she could see his expression.

“My lord has granted you a boon.” He shifted his burden, slinging Willow unceremoniously over his shoulder. “Our path lies this way.”

“So I’m guessing this boon is like a gift, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, Buffy muttered, “Last time someone other than human gave me a gift, it wasn’t so great. Maybe I don’t like all these gifts.”

She had to run to keep up with him, her short legs no match for his. Geezuz, and I thought being supernatural meant I could keep up with just about anything. Wonder if he’s got a beanstalk somewhere?

Stifling her less -than-reverent thoughts, Buffy raced to keep up. The Huntsman stopped outside the walls of a huge fortress, the wooden gate seemingly going up forever.

“Wow. That’s a really big door.”

“Welcome, Chosen One, to the Hall of my lord.”

He pushed open the gate, motioning Buffy inside.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Faith stood on the front porch, watching the two vampires. Spike hadn’t moved at all, not once in the near hour since the rest of them had gone inside. Giles was all bandaged up, wearing a pair of borrowed, almost-too-small sweat pants, Xander was passed out on the couch, Oz was sleeping it off in Tara’s bed and Dawn had been carried up to Buffy and Spike’s room just a little while ago.

His behavior was beginning to wig her, and she knew both Giles and Wesley were also concerned. She kind of understood, though, or at least thought she might. Maybe he’s feeling sort of like I did when I felt Buffy go. Sorta lost, sorta relieved.

It was weird though, to see Spike so still. Just as she was about to step off the porch, Faith heard the murmur of soft voices and Spike moved, turning a bit to look at Jenner. The two spoke for more than a few minutes, nothing but words passing between them, until a noise exploded from Spike and he started gesturing wildly. Faith’s lips twitched and she released the sigh she’d been holding back.

Spike spun on his heel, striding straight for the house, determination hounding every step.

He paused momentarily, acknowledging her presence. “You’ll stay until I get back, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure.” She shrugged, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “Got nowhere else to go.”

Spike stared into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability she always tried to so hard to hide. “Right then.”

He swept past her, moving swiftly into the house. Faith turned to follow, only to have her attention drawn by Jenner.

His hand reached out to touch her arm and she stared down at it, fighting the shivers of awareness rocketing through her. Neither one of them spoke, though Faith thought Jenner may have said her name.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing did, not any more.

The next heartbeat, Faith knocked his hand away, once more turning toward the house.

Before she could move though, Jenner was behind her, his body nearly touching hers. He leaned down, his mouth hovering just over her ear and simply said one word.

“Faith.”

His deep voice went right through her and she was lost, though she fought it. Every inch of her was aware of him, tingles crawling up her spine and they were so much more than just her spider sense. His proximity alone was enough to get her going, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why the hell she wasn’t taking control. He was just another guy – although a bit deader.

Jenner’s hand slid around her waist, barely touching her and Faith tensed.

“It’s time.”

His teeth brushed across the spot at her nape and all she could do was whimper. Jenner laughed, low and husky, then tightened his hold on her.

She didn’t even protest when he lifted her off her feet and carried her over his shoulder down the street.






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