[A/N: I swear I’m trying to finish this and not prolong anyone’s agony. I swear. We are reaching a conclusion, so that’s good, right? My eternal thanks once again to Tam, and to Addie for support, beta skills and all around hand holding. My thanks also to each and every single one of you that’s stuck with me through this saga. Title and quotes are as attributed. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]


Previously: Spike has been badly injured on the climb, leaving he and Lawson at the mercy of a good Samaritan; Buffy’s made her decision, now she just needs to figure out exactly what that means.

Book Two. Chapter Seventy-three. Justice turns the scale


Goodness shall be repaid with goodness,
and evil repaid with evil;
never fear;
the day of reckoning will come soon.
Chinese proverb.

Truth is truth
To the end of reckoning.
Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.

Justice turns the scale,
bringing to some learning through suffering.
Aeschylus, Agamemnon, l. 250.

Good deal: justice for you, mercy for me.
Mason Cooley, City Aphorisms, Sixth Selection, New York

The anvil of justice is planted firm,
and fate who makes the sword does the forging in advance.
Aeschylus, The Libation Bearers, l. 646


Blot out vain pomp;
check impulse;
quench appetite;
keep reason under its own control.
Marcus Aurelius, Meditations. ix. 7.

He who loses control, loses.
Det. Frank Pembleton, Homicide: Life on the Street,1993




Just that brush of her against his senses was enough of a goad to get him motivated. Spike stretched, flexing his sore muscles, testing the healing. His back muscles pulled, pain rolling through him in waves. If he had sweat, it would be standing out on his upper lip and his temples. He stifled a groan, pushing past the pain. Cold fire lanced through him and his vision blurred.

“Got any more of that?” He barely managed to growl out the request. Spike hated asking for more, but sitting around wasn’t going to get the baby back. Sooner he did that, sooner he could get home.

And he wanted that. Wanted to get home more than he wanted to breathe.

Home.

To Buffy.

Light flared from the fire and he shifted, trying again to move. Almost as if she sensed his continued pain, Rianwyn got up from her seat, intent on seeing to him. She was two steps away when she stopped and changed direction. Spike watched her with a curious air, only relaxing when she approached him with the earthenware jug and a handful of herbs.

“Here, drink this.”

“The good stuff, yeah?”

His answer was a small enigmatic smile and a shake of her head. When she started to move away, Spike reached out to grab her wrist. “Tell me, pet, was your sacrifice worth it? Did he love you back?”

Rianwyn stared down at his hand, visibly debating whether she wanted to answer his questions. Finally, after a few tense moments, she sighed, deflating a bit. “He did.” She paused, looking into his blue eyes steadily. “Is your sacrifice worth it?”

It was his turn to look away. Spike’s jaw flexed and he ground out, “Not really a sacrifice, pet.”

“And there is your answer.”


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


Once Anya’s tears had faded away after the third cup of calming tea, Wesley slumped down on the floor in front of a still sleeping Dawn. Giles and Anya were conversing in soft tones and Wesley kept up the pretense as long as he could, adding commentary until he could no longer keep his eyes open.

His head dropped down, chin hitting his chest and a soft snore alerted the other two of his state of consciousness. A wry grin crossed Giles’ face while Anya emitted a soft, watery giggle. Wesley looked very uncomfortable and Anya pulled the small blanket from the back of the chair, swirling it over his still form.

He muttered something unintelligible, which only increased her giggles. Anya slumped back into the chair beside Giles and surprised him completely with her next words. “We should go to bed.”

Giles’ jaw dropped, unable to wrap his head around her casual announcement. He peered at her through his glasses, then at her continued mutterings about the time and how much better they would feel if they got some sleep, he pulled them off, still unable to form words.

“Yes, I . . . I think that’s best.”

His hesitation was long enough for her to notice and Anya cocked her head to the side, her expression unreadable. “Really, Rupert, the first time we have sex won’t be when you’re exhausted and injured. I want both of us to enjoy the experience.”

He continued to gape at her, unable to formulate one single coherent thought. She was staring back at him, a mischievous smile playing about her lips.

“Anya . . . “

She merely raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “We have excellent chemistry and I do believe we are much more compatible than Xander and I were. Don’t you agree?”

When he still didn’t answer, Anya got to her feet, hands outstretched toward him. “C’mon, Rupert. Let’s get some sleep.”

Giles was still trying to digest her comments as they climbed into Dawn’s bed.


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


The cavernous hall was empty, devoid of any occupants except her. Buffy’s footsteps rang hollowly on the marble, echoing very loudly. She could feel the otherwordly presences all around her, shifting and flowing closer as she neared Gwyn’s raised seat. Her heart was a slow, steady thump, though the churning, roiling mass of her belly kept rising up to her throat. She’d made her decision – where she wanted to be and with whom – but there was still the question of Willow.

Not since that look into the giant cauldron had her name been mentioned. No word of a possible fate or payment or anything had been uttered. Buffy was beginning to realize that she was being judged almost as closely as the other girl.

Shying away from thoughts of why it was for her to decide . . . . Oh, I get it. They wanted me to decide I wanted to live. I get it now.

And I do. I really wanna live. I wanna see everything – Dawnie, Giles, Tara. . . I want to make sure everyone’s okay. I wanna live. I wanna stay with Spike. Coz heaven isn’t gonna really be heaven without him. So . . . . I’ll wait.

A tenuous smile crossed her features just as Buffy drew even with the alcove containing Ceridwen’s cauldron. The mist rose upwards, coiling just beneath the ceiling, forming murky images. As she watched, Buffy caught glimpses of figures battling and found herself drawn to the alcove without realizing it. The more she stared at the images, the more certain she became that she was watching someone fighting against bigger, stronger, and more talented opponents. But even as she watched, the slight figure grew, both taller and stronger, and instead of losing every fight, the figure started winning, defeating its opponents.

The mist didn’t allow for a close identification, and Buffy moved closer, trying to figure out who the figure was, though nothing seemed to be familiar. The moves looked like Spike’s, but the body was all wrong and the face too young to be anyone else she might recognize. Suddenly aware of another person standing behind her, Buffy whispered a question, afraid to disturb the misty visions. “Who is that? And what’s happening?”

“These are visions of what is. And you should recognize what appears before your eyes.” Ceridwen’s voice was equally soft, her tone caring.

Buffy continued to watch, her eyes never leaving the mist. “He’s training, learning how to fight.”

There was no question in her tone, only certainty, and she merely looked sideways when Ceridwen stepped beside her. “Aye, even so, he is gifted, that one, with speed and strength belying his slight stature and tender years.”

Buffy murmured something approving as the boy ducked gracefully beneath another figure, skewering a second opponent easily. “He learns every time the fight changes. He’s going to be really good.”

“That he will be.” Ceridwen inclined her head, and Buffy caught a smile forming itself on her lips. “Destined to be a champion, despite his bloodlines.”

“I’d love to have someone like him on my side.”

Soft, tinkling laughter filled the alcove and Ceridwen touched Buffy’s shoulder. “Have a care what you wish for, cariad.” Looking down into the Slayer’s upturned face, she smiled. “Come. It is time.”


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


She accompanied them to the tunnel the hounds had discovered, leading the way with a ball of light she’d conjured out of thin air and a few whispered words. Spike kept his eyes on the back of her head, wondering at how familiar she seemed to him and knowing it was not just because of the few hours they’d spent together. Her generosity had extended past the gift of power-packed blood and surcease for a short period; their packs were laden with supplies, both additional food and clothing filling them.

Rianwyn was built much like Buffy, small and fine-boned, with deceptive strength in her. He sensed it coming off her in waves and he supposed, if he had the talent, he would have been able to almost see it. Unlike Buffy, though, she moved easily about in long skirts, unhampered by the excess material.

The cave walls narrowed, closing in on all of them, and the slight incline they’d been walking took a sharp increase, so that they were scrabbling for handholds and stepping up. Rianwyn uttered a serious of soft words, none of which Spike understood, and the path cleared to reveal ancient steps carved from the stone. She spoke again, and the soft glowing light rose high enough to skim along the rocky ceiling.

“I know you’ve no need of the light, either of you, but even so, it eases the path.” She spoke over her shoulder, not bothering to glance back. “The hounds are up ahead.”

“Thanks.” She was right, neither he nor Lawson needed the light, yet he was still grateful for the gesture. “Any idea how much further to the other side?”

“Not long.” There was a particularly steep incline just ahead of them and then the passageway appeared to level off. She paused where she was, gazing upward. “This is the last we have to climb.”

“Well, that’s not bad.” Lawson spoke softly from the rear, his eyes following the same path Rianwyn’s had done.

She murmured something in agreement, then bunched her skirts in one hand and started the climb. A loose step crumbled under her heel and she teetered off balance for a moment, catching herself before either vampire could react. Without so much as a real pause, Rianwyn scrambled up the rest of the incline. Spike watched her move with an assessing eye, and once he joined her at the top, couldn’t stop himself from asking the question that had been plaguing him for most of the trip through the tunnel.

“Tell me something, if you don’ mind.” He leaned back against the rock wall, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Lawson to make the climb. “Were you a Slayer?”

The shadow of a smile crossed her features and Rianwyn looked away from his intense gaze. “Nay, I was not.”

A snort of disbelief escaped from him and Spike shook his head. “Think you’re lying to me, my lady. Wanna try that again?”

Rianwyn faced him squarely. “No, I am no slayer. The slayer of my time lived in Roma, where the Safn Uffernau was located. We had no need for a Slayer.” A look crossed her features, one he couldn’t decipher in the gloom, but Spike got the sense she wasn’t telling him the whole truth.

He held his tongue, knowing if he waited her out, she’d give him more details than she wanted. His wait was not a long one and before Sam cleared the last step, she was speaking again.

“Perhaps the Gods refused to take pity on us, I do not know even now why it was that we did not have a Slayer among us. Though mayhap ‘twas because we battled men and not cythreuliaid. I’ve never cared to ask.” She glanced away, watching Lawson climb to his feet and shake the dust from his clothing. “The Saess were attacking, driving us back away from what was once our lands, lands even the Romans had not dared claim. We had need of every warrior. Even women. Everyone fought. Old men, younglings, girls, boys. We all fought.“

Spike could feel the emotion in her words, it was so tangible. He didn’t dare interrupt her though, his curiosity about her for once keeping him silent. Lawson too, sensed the emotions in the air and waited for her to finish.

“He wasn’t . . . His half-brother was king, he was merely what you would all a war leader, a general?” When both men nodded, Rianwyn sighed deeply. “It wasn’t for him to become what he is remembered as. That fate should not have been his. And yet, the men he led had other ideas. Other plans.”

She moved away from the wall, staring off into the distance, her vision obviously filled with thoughts of another place, another time, and this mysterious him she kept mentioning. “He brought the tribes together, for once, getting them to put aside rivalries deeper than the threat of the Saess. In itself ‘twas a miracle.” Though her face was angled away from them, Spike could see the beginnings of a heartbreakingly sweet smile playing about her lips. “He made us better, stronger, and we defeated them. For a time, the Saess were pushed back.”

Silence filled the narrow tunnel, neither man willing to prod her in to telling them more, afraid she would shy away from the tale. Her voice, when she spoke again, was thick with tears and Spike pushed himself away from the wall to stand beside her. “He gambled all, giving all that he had, risking everything to keep his people, his family safe.” Rianwyn looked up at Spike and he was close enough to see the crystal tears filling her eyes and hear the slow, steady thump of her heart. “We fought side by side, he and I. And though you think I have skill and grace enough to be a Slayer, I am not. He was the warrior, I was his mage.”

Neither man spoke and it was long minutes before Rianwyn did. Spike was not surprised though, at her words.

“This is where I leave you. Follow the path and the hounds will lead you safely through. Dichon y duwiau tywys dy grisiau.”

And with that, she was gone.


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


While she and Ceridwen had watched the shadow play in the mist, the hall had filled, the inhabitants silently waiting for their attention. Buffy stole a glance at the Goddess by her side, recognizing in the grim set of her features what was about to commence. Her nerves, which had been jumping earlier, were strangely calm. The roiling had eased in her belly and Buffy unconsciously reached out to see if she could feel Spike. Her answer was more reassurance, and she sensed he was on the move again.

Movement near Gwyn’s chair caught her attention and Buffy followed Ceridwen’s gesture leading her in that direction. Gwyn was standing in front of the chair, Arianrhod at his right and another male Buffy didn’t recognize on his left. He was tall, taller even than Gwyn, with dark hair and eyes. His visage was stern, and though his look was not directed at Buffy, she shivered anyway.

Buffy and her companion approached the three, and once clear of the crowd, Buffy could see what the focal point of attention was. The unconscious form of Willow was still on the floor where they’d left her hours before.

“Greetings, Chosen One.” Gwyn’s voice rang through the stillness, speaking more to the assemblage than Buffy herself. His tone was formal and forbidding, giving no indication that he’d ever had a conversation with her.

Realizing her response wasn’t required, Buffy stepped forward, facing him and the other man. Arianrhod moved to stand beside Ceridwen, who flanked Buffy, Willow’s prone form between them. “You are asked to bear witness.”

He gestured toward Willow with his right hand, softly chanting words Buffy couldn’t hear, despite her proximity. “Wake, Red Willow.”

Very slowly, Willow started to stir, her closed eyelids fluttering, her arms and legs twitching. A painful groan was wrenched from her lips and she rolled to her knees. Formerly dark green eyes which opened to dart around at her surroundings were now mostly black. At first she didn’t react, but slowly as her senses returned, Willow’s expression changed. Fearfully arrogant, she gingerly got to her feet, her features set and drawn.

“Where am I?”

The question wasn’t abnormal, given the circumstances, however it was obviously unwelcome when Gwyn’s reprimand echoed through the otherwise silent hall. “I gave you no leave to speak, girl. All shall be answered in time.”

Buffy could see Willow’s rage building, knew the second she was about to blow and watched, almost detached when Willow raised her right hand as if to strike Gwyn. The motion, however, was stilled nearly before it started. Gwyn flicked a glance at Willow, smiled, and raised his hand.

Once again, Willow was bound motionless, allowed only to breathe. Yet this time, he didn’t render her insensate, leaving her wide awake for what was about to occur. “Your powers, such as they are, have no strength here. Best you be aware of that, genethig.”

The struggle to free herself was visible only on Willow’s pallid features, though Gwyn paid it no heed, turning slightly again to face the crowd. “You are all here to bear witness to this reckoning. Trust has been betrayed, unnecessary vengeance taken against one who did not deserve it. Reward was stolen rightfully from She who deserved it.”

Gwyn looked around, his eyes sweeping the crowd and he smiled once more. “Watch.”

He said nothing else, only slowly waved his hand and before their eyes, all that had been seen inside the depths of Ceridwen’s cauldron was revealed. There was a rustling throughout the crowd as the truth of Willow’s actions was laid bare, and a wolfish smile began forming on the face of the dark haired man next to Gwyn. Buffy shivered, wondering what he was thinking, afraid she was about to be put on display next. Instead, she watched while the multitude parted and a tall, broad man stepped forward, following by a woman who was shorter than she. It was the woman who spoke however, her voice deep and husky. “Who was it that allowed this to pass?”

Another voice sounded from behind Buffy and she whirled around to face the speaker. It was a woman who stepped lightly forward, her bright skirts flowing behind her as she almost ran forward. “One who will always take the path of betrayal over friendship and love.”

She stepped forward, coming to a halt beside Arianrhod. “Greetings, all.”

Murmured greetings were spoken to her, though Ceridwen leaned down to whisper, “Is all well with them?”

“Aye, when I left them they were moving again, under the mountains toward the next bridge.” Buffy’s ears perked up and she made the connection to her earlier conversation with the Goddess. This woman had to be the help sent to Spike. Buffy leaned forward around Ceridwen and smiled at the other woman, which was returned with the same.

Their exchange was halted, however, when Gwyn stepped forward, closing in on Willow. “It matters not who allowed the girl access to powers. That matter shall be dealt with in its own time. What matters is what she accomplished with those stolen powers.” He leaned forward, looking down at her. “What matters is the havoc she caused. The ones she hurt.”

He moved around her, pacing slowly. “There is none here to speak for you, none willing to champion your cause.”

Willow’s eyes shifted toward Buffy, who flinched back, then straightened. “No, look not to the Chosen One, Red Willow. She cannot champion your cause. She is the one you betrayed. Look not to her for assistance.” Gwyn halted in front of her still form. “Naught but your actions speak for you. And those are grievous indeed.”

Gwyn moved away, taking his seat while some of the others shifted around to gain a better vantage point for what was about to occur. “You sought to bend others to your will, to control those around you. When their actions escaped your control, you sought other means. You violated their thoughts, their hearts, their trust.”

Arianrhod and Ceridwen moved then, standing beside Gwyn’s chair, their expressions like none Buffy had ever seen. Before they had been kind, forgiving, almost motherly; now, though, she could see they were not merely those things. They were fierce, elemental beings, ones she was suddenly very happy she wasn’t standing in front of.

Gwyn leaned forward, his hand on his knee, his eyes boring into Willow’s. “You have proven to have little care or regard for those you claim to love, those you have sworn to assist. Time it is for a reckoning for your actions. The decisions rendered here are final; there is no escape from justice.”

The man next to him spoke, his voice ringing like the deepest of bells, nearly causing the floors and walls to vibrate. “Three sins you are accused of, Red Willow, betrayal of trust, misuse of gifts freely given and thievery. No recourse have you, no explanation or excuse for your actions. You stole the Chosen One from her reward, and in so doing you stole her destiny. That triggered yet more thievery, for in stealing one, you stole multitudes.” He folded his arms over his chest, staring down at her. “Your fate is sealed. Hear now the results of your pride and arrogance.”

“Control that you ever sought is wrested from you, lying now within another. Talent and gifts are harnessed, never to be released until permission granted. Love and family are always within sight, but never found. Release comes not, until the last of your betrayed is at peace.” Arianrhod spoke, while the others echoed her words, until the sounds filled the hall, reverberating throughout, reaching a thundering crescendo, until only one voice sounded in the silence.

“Your life is spared, through the grace of one you betrayed.”









to be continued. . .