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When Worlds Collide: The Return by enigma_k
 
Chapter 3: The Eve of Our Final Hour
 
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“Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises.” – Demothenes

“I love thee, I love but thee
With a love that shall not die
Till the sun grows cold,
And the stars grow old...” – Bernard Taylor


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

“The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid.”

Aragorn burst into the great hall of the Theoden King and shouted his announcement. Buffy was sitting with Willow and Eowyn but stood as the Ranger ran into the room. Her eyes sought out Spike who was standing next to Theoden as he spoke to Eomer and a few other Rohirrim soldiers. Every line in the vampire’s body was tense with anticipation of the King’s decree.

To answer the call or not.

Several tense moments passed with the hall having grown eerily quiet.

Then Theoden spoke.

“Rohan will answer. Muster the Rohirrim!”

The hall erupted with activity. The soldiers that had been milling about scrambled out of the room to gather their things. In the distance, a bell began to ring, calling the men to arms.

Buffy walked away from Willow and Eowyn with a quick “Gotta go” thrown over her shoulder and joined Spike and Aragorn. Together the three followed in the King’s wake as he left the hall and gave orders for Eomer to assemble an army at Dunharrow.

“You have two days. On the third, we ride for Gondor.”

Buffy slipped her hand in Spike’s and gained his attention.

“I’m going to change. How long do I have?”

“Five… ten minutes tops. Just long enough to get the horses saddled, I’ll wager.”

“I’ll hurry then.”

Sparing no thought for decorum, Buffy lifted her skirts and took off for the room she shared with Spike. Why she was wearing a dress, she didn’t know – other than the fact that she’d wanted to look more womanly for Spike, especially with both Willow and Eowyn decked out in their finery. The clothes she’d been given back in Rivendell were made for a male, and did nothing to accentuate her figure. She looked like one of the guys, and was treated as such.

Spike hadn’t seemed to mind one way or the other, but she’d smiled secretly when she’d walked into the hall that first day wearing one of Eowyn’s borrowed dresses.

Now, as she raced headlong down the path to her room, she berated herself for her vanity. Thankfully no one called her on it. They were too busy getting ready for war.

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

It was a quiet group that rode into camp in Dunharrow. Their numbers were nowhere near what Theoden and the others had expected or secretly wished for.

“Six thousand spears. Less than half of what I’d hoped,” the King remarked.

“Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor,” Aragorn commented quietly.

“More will come,” Spike told them both.

“Every hour lost hastens Gondor’s defeat. We have till dawn. Then we must ride.”

“Yes.” Theoden sighed softly then squared his shoulders. “Rest while you can. Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

Aragorn bowed deferentially and steered his horse towards one of the tents that had been erected. Spike, Legolas, and Gimli followed.

Buffy trailed after Eowyn and Willow towards the tent next to the King’s own. The women would spend the night there before Buffy left with the men and Eowyn and Willow rode back to Edoras to await the outcome of the war. She hated to be parted from Spike, but knew that tomorrow would be the first of three hard days of riding towards Gondor and they both needed to rest. With as many men flooding the camp as there were, they’d not be afforded privacy anyway.

Still, she was going to miss his arms wrapped about her as she slept, and it was with a heavy heart that she lifted the flap to the tent and stepped inside.

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

Spike paced within the confines of the tent he shared with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. His demon was growling and raring to go, and he knew it would be a while yet before he calmed enough to sleep. Rather than annoy his fellow companions with his restlessness, he exited the tent and wandered about the camp.

All about him, men were huddled in small groups talking amongst themselves as they prepared weapons and armor for the coming battle. Jokes were bandied back and forth and laughter helped ease the rising tension felt by all.

A pair of horses trotted into the clearing and Spike stilled as one let out a distinctive whiny. He turned in the direction of the sound and jogged across the clearing.

Even though the man’s face was hidden by the cloak he wore, Spike would know him anywhere – especially since he was riding Shelerof. He drew close and snagged the reins of his horse near the bit, giving him a quick rub between his eyes as Elrond dismounted.

“M’lord,” Spike murmured as Elrond removed his hood.

“Kriger.”

“It is good to see you,” Spike told the elven lord as they embraced briefly. “How are Arwen and the others?”

Elrond didn’t respond to his question, which was telling. He made to push for an answer but the person riding with the Elrond dismounted then, and Spike’s eyes widened at catching a whiff of Xander. He, too, removed the hood of his cloak, and sure enough, the boy stood before him, giving him a hesitant smile.

“Hey…”

“Harris,” Spike greeted him rather stiffly.

Surprisingly enough for Spike, Xander didn’t take offense to his standoffish manner.

“Spike. Or should I say ‘Kriger’?”

Spike snorted, but the corner of his mouth turned up. “Spike’s fine. The others are a few tents up on the right. Give your horse to one of the squires to see to and get something to eat. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Yeah… okay…”

Xander moved off, leading his horse behind him, grateful to have his feet on solid ground again. He and Elrond had ridden hard from Rivendell once the sword had been reforged, praying all the while that they would reach Aragorn in time. Some food and a place to lay his head sounded wonderful right about now.

Spike watched as Xander walked away, surprised at his change in attitude. His time spent in Rivendell had apparently garnered positive results.

Finally dismissing the boy from his mind, he took note of Elrond’s rigid stance; his eyes drifted down to the sheathed sword held tightly in his grip.

“Is that—?”

“Yes. It is time,” Elrond confirmed.

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

Aragorn stepped inside the Theoden King’s tent and stopped short at seeing Kriger standing in the corner. His brother’s expression was unreadable, for once, giving Aragorn pause. Then he saw Elrond. “My lord,” he murmured a polite greeting and affected a short bow. He barely noticed as Theoden left the tent giving them privacy. Instead, his gaze swiveled back to Kriger.

“Kriger? What—?”

“I come on behalf of one whom I love,” Elrond spoke quietly before Kriger could. “Arwen is dying. She will not long survive the evil that now spreads from Mordor. The light of the Evenstar is failing. As Sauron’s power grows her strength wanes. Arwen’s life is now tied to the fate of the ring. The shadow is upon us, Aragorn. The end is come.”

“It will not be our end,” Aragorn told him. “But his.”

Elrond sighed.

“You ride to war, but not to victory. Sauron’s armies march on Minas Tirith, as you know. But in secret he sends another force which will attack from the river. A fleet of Corsair ships sails from the south. They’ll be in the city in two days.” Elrond crossed the tent and laid a hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “You’re outnumbered, Aragorn. You need more men.”

Aragorn bowed his head. “There are none.”

“There are those that dwell in the mountain,” Elrond corrected.

“Murderers, traitors. You would call upon them to fight?” He spared another glance at his brother; again his face revealed none of his thoughts. “They believe in nothing! They answer to no one,” he told Elrond.

Elrond shook his head and drew the sword from beneath his cloak. “They will answer to the King of Gondor. Anduril, the Flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil.”

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

Spike stood in the shadows as Aragorn readied his mount. His brother’s journey was one that had to be made without his presence. Aragorn needed to find the strength to be the King of Men on his own. It didn’t mean Spike couldn’t nudge his fellow companions into accompanying him.

A sound from his left drew his attention, and Spike leapt into action before Eowyn could confront Aragorn.

“Why… why does he leave? The war lies to the east. He cannot leave on the eve of battle. He cannot abandon the men.”

“Eowyn…” Spike gripped her arms to keep her in place. “Shh…”

“He is needed here!” she cried.

“Eowyn, let him go.” He sighed at seeing the tearful expression on her face. Behind him, Aragorn mounted his horse and rode off into the night, soon to be joined by Gimli and Legolas. “He cannot give you that which you seek. His heart already belongs to another.”

Her eyes filled with tears and Spike guided the woman back towards the tent she shared with Buffy and Willow.

“Aragorn leaves to fulfill his destiny. He has not abandoned us,” he confided along the way. He stopped before the entrance to her tent. “Now rest. Your face must not bear your sorrow when you bid farewell to the men come morning.”

“Spike…”

He’d taken barely a handful of steps when Buffy softly called his name. He stopped, turned, and slowly held out his hand, pleased when she rushed forward. If this was to be the last of his life, he wasn’t about to play the martyr and deny himself the company of the woman he loved.

Neither said a word as they walked back to Spike’s tent hand in hand.

Buffy stepped through the parted flaps and Spike made to follow. Just before he stepped inside, however, he caught sight of Xander seated around a campfire with several other men. The two made eye contact. The boy’s wink and lopsided grin caused Spike to stiffen in surprise.

Surely the boy wasn’t giving him his approval…

When Harris yanked his head in the direction of his tent, Spike could only assume he was. He hurried inside, only to freeze at the sight of the Slayer standing before him.

She’d seemingly shucked her clothes with all possible haste, and the candles scattered about the room cast an ethereal glow upon her body.

“Buffy…” he whispered, still, as yet, unable to believe that she was actually here with him.

His feet carried him forward without conscious thought until he was standing before her. He reached out with one hand to touch her, noting with embarrassment how it shook – thankfully she was too busy staring up at him to see. Too busy fumbling to get him out of his clothes.

Spike was quickly divested of his tunic, vest, pants, and boots and they sank to the plush rugs scattered on the ground beneath their feet rather than bother with the cots. Neither rushed as their hands explored the other’s body, desperate to make what could be their last moments together last. They kissed until Buffy was breathless, until she was forced to draw back and gasp air into her lungs.

“Please, Spike,” she whispered, unable to endure the torment of being separated from her lover any longer.

Spike stifled a moan as he settled between the Slayer’s parted legs and thrust against her. A slight nudge, and a twist of his hips and he was sheathed inside her pussy as far as he could go.

“God! Buffy!” he murmured reverently as he peppered her face with kisses. “Love you. Love you so much…”

“I love you too.”

Buffy clutched at Spike’s back as he began to move, wanting him closer, and closer still. Needing to feel him throughout her entire being. Desperate to have all of him… and give him all of herself in return.

Tears fell from her eyes at the thought that this might be the last time they would be able to be together like this, tears that were kissed away amid murmured assurances that he would be there always. That he would never leave her. That he loved her.

Buffy took Spike’s words into her heart and dared to believe that, for once, someone – Spike – would keep his promise. And she gave herself over to him… mind, body, and soul.

In the wake of their affirmation of love, the two lovers slept, blankets from a nearby cot hastily drawn over the naked bodies, wrapped in the comfort of the other’s embrace.

Neither stirred when Xander slipped inside the tent hours later and smiled down at them before taking to one of the cots in the far corner.
 
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