Chapter Forty-One
Spike expelled a deep breath and reached up to brush a few loose locks of hair away from Buffy’s eyes, his other hand clasped tightly in her grasp. The look on her face twisted his heart, but he knew better than to speak. Than to console her with words that would mean nothing in the face of what he had just said. Her gaze was steadfast on an empty space on the floor, her body tense, a sea of unshed tears welling in need of release.
Words hung around him. Lingering just above them. He wished he could take it back. More than ever, he wished he could take it back. Take it back and mean it. Tell her anything that wasn’t the truth. Tell her something that would make the truth more bearable.
When she finally summoned the will to speak, her voice was cold. Void of emotion. Shaken to the root of her foundation. “A-and…you…you’re sure.”
Spike drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Yeh,” he murmured. “Quirinias…the entire time that you were…it was preparation for when he took you over. When he…became a god in your skin. Not human…not even a Slayer. He wanted to be a god on earth with all the benefits he’d get bein’ a god on a higher plane.”
“And…when you cast him out…”
“We cast him out. Everythin’ else…” He sighed and glanced down. “Honestly, sweetheart, I was more concerned at the time with gettin’ you out alive. I couldn’t…” He broke off again and licked his lips. “How do you feel?”
A shuddering breath escaped her body. “I don’t know. No different, I suppose. I…better than I thought I…but…” Buffy’s hand tightened around his. “I’m a god?”
“Baby…”
“I’m not even human anymore.” The first few lazy rivers of tears started flowing. “What am I? Dear God, what am I?”
“You’re Buffy, sweetheart. Always.” Spike couldn’t stand the distance between them anymore and tugged her into his arms, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “An’ I’m here. For however long you need me.”
Buffy blinked and pulled back at that, the haze in her eyes fading. “For however long I need you?”
“I—”
“I’m a god, Spike. I have this…” She gestured emphatically. “I’m a god.”
A humorless smile tickled his mouth. “Always thought so, myself.”
“For however long I need you?” Her lower lip began quivering, her eyes filling again with tears. “I’m a god and now you’re not even going to be around if you decide I don’t need you anymore? Spike—”
He stared at her incredulously. “Buffy—”
“Gods are godlike, aren’t they? They have…they’re…”
“Yeh, they are. I jus’…I din’t know ‘f you…” There was a pause, then he couldn’t help but smile at their foolishness. “I love you so much. I don’ know ‘f you understand what that means for me. I don’ take love for granted. Never have. I would’ve loved Dru through eternity ‘f she’d’ve let me, an’ she wasn’ even the real thing.” He cupped her cheek reverently. “You are. Even ‘f you got tired of me, I’d spend the rest of the world loving you. I knew I was lost forever back at the Myrtles, I think. Din’t know I loved you then, an’ if I did, I refused to admit it. An’ now…” He exhaled deeply; the wondrous look in her eyes doing a number on his heart. It shocked him that she could doubt the intensity of his feelings. That when he said forever, he bloody well meant it. “’m yours as long as you’ll have me. I claimed you to save your life, but god, I meant it with everythin’ I am. An’ I din’t want you to reciprocate until you knew—”
There wasn’t much he knew about claims beyond the surface level. The meaning, the sacred implications buried within the ritual, but he didn’t know how to differentiate between a true claim and one made out of desperation. He didn’t know there was a way to differentiate. However, for the sheer bliss that engulfed his body, the jolts of pleasure that seized his blood and tightened his heart with the enormity of what he felt, the purity of her claim on him surpassed any sensation he had experienced.
It was the sweetest thing he had ever known. Her teeth in his throat, marking him as her own. Done out of a measure of understanding. The warmth of her love burning him from the inside. A wealth he could not have hoped for. The power of what she was giving him answered his own call and then some. And for the first time in his life, he truly felt loved. Loved in the way he loved. Loved in the way he had never thought would be his own.
The knowledge inspired tears to his eyes that were already exhausted from crying.
He had held no aspirations of this being the result of what he told her—an eternity in the arms of his Buffy was something that he had already accepted as something he so thoroughly did not deserve.
“Mine,” she whispered against his throat, lapping up what little blood she had drawn tentatively. “Forever, Spike. That’s what I want.”
That was it. He couldn’t stop the tears if he tried. With a tremulous sigh and a reverential kiss against her lips, he tugged her back into his arms. “Yours,” he agreed. “Forever. God, I never thought…I never…”
“I love you,” Buffy whispered against his skin. “I don’t know if you understand what that means for me.” She drew in a deep breath and glanced down. “I don’t love easily, Spike. When I love, it’s messy and painful and…I didn’t want to love again. Not after the first time. But then, you…of all freaking people…God, you made it so easy.”
A gentle smile spread across his face, and he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.
“I think I would’ve followed Angel forever, too. And that wasn’t even the real thing. Sure as hell felt like it, but now…loving then was terrifying enough, and now that I’m with you, I don’t even know if that was real love.” She offered a watery grin at the astonishment that overwhelmed his eyes. “It might’ve been, but it wasn’t this. And this…I love you more than I thought I could love anyone…ever. And you’re right, it happened fast. It happened so fast and I’m beyond terrified.” Her gaze dropped to her own hands that quivered beneath her scrutiny. “And I’m a god.”
Spike nodded. “We’ll get through it, pet. I promise.”
“I know we will. I just…I can’t think about this right now. It’s too big.” She glanced up again, tightening her grasp on his hand. “I…I can’t think. I don’t know what it means. I-I don’t know what it means to be a god, other than I’m here for kind of…ever, and it’s a…what do I do? All I know about gods is that they occasionally create the universe and kill their children for the good of humanity.”
“Think someone else has you covered in that department, baby,” the vampire reassured her with a wry grin. “Besides, the jury’s still out on that one.”
“It certainly gives perspective to that ‘thou shalt not worship any other gods before me.’” Buffy frowned. “I never really got that. ‘Any other gods’ implies there are more that could be worshipped if you decided not to follow the one with the Commandments.” She paused and grinned shyly at the look on Spike’s face. “I never really believed it. Not before I was called, and definitely not after. Not with everything I’ve seen.”
“’S understandable. I never bought it, either.”
“Really?”
“Well, there was that time when I was human an’ din’t know better.” He kissed her forehead. “We have forever to find out, sweetling. What you’re capable of. How much power you have waitin’ in that sweet li’l body of yours.”
A sigh shuddered through her throat. “I don’t want power,” she whispered. “I don’t want…I was already strong enough that…and now, a god? I don’t—”
“We’ll work through it. Won’ let you fall.”
“What if you can’t stop me?”
“Then we fall together,” Spike promised. “We’ll make it.”
Buffy licked her lips and smiled. “Yeah,” she agreed hoarsely. “Thank you.”
“Nothin’ to thank me for, sweetheart.”
“No.” She shook her head and tugged him to his feet, wiping her eyes with her free hand. The crack of a car door slamming shut echoed faintly from the parking lot. Without a word, it was suddenly time to face the world. “There’s so much. There’s so, so much. I can’t…what you’ve done for me, I can’t imagine…”
Spike stood self-consciously and fidgeted a bit as her hand took to wiping away his own tears. This intimacy with her was something he cherished, yet similarly, being that close to someone made him strangely aware of himself. The thought that he was actually with her—that everything in the past two weeks had actually happened—and the woman he had pined for, unknowingly for two years and so fervently in the past month, loved him was beyond his comprehension. The very Williamish part of him was still terrified that none of this was real. Convinced that a woman of her purity could never look at him with love in her eyes. And yet, she had bitten him and he had felt it. She had claimed him as hers for eternity, completing the half circle that he had forcibly pushed to the back of his subconscious. Her needs met first, always first. He had never expected her to accept him so sacredly, and even in his wildest fantasies, it had never happened so soon.
It had never felt so real. So genuine. So perfect.
His past had never known such mangled perfection. A paradise that he had searched for and finally found after a century of torturous dead ends. And the fact that she couldn’t grasp the endless wealth of what he would do for her if she asked, at the drop of a pin if she asked, nearly knocked him off his feet.
“I love you,” he said. “That’s all you need to know. All I need to know.”
Buffy smiled softly and nodded, brushing a tender kiss over his lips. “I love you, too,” she agreed. “And…I’m ready.”
He smiled back as she turned to lead him to the door. “We’ll come right back,” he promised. “Or go out. Or do anythin’ you want. If you—”
“Spike.” She squeezed his hand warmly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Yeh. I jus’…’f you need anythin’, all you need to do is tell me.”
She stopped at the door and turned to him, gratitude burning her eyes. “I know,” she said. “All I need right now is you…while I do this. I need to see them. I need…I just need to be me for a little while.”
“You’re you, baby,” he promised, opening the door for her. “’S jus’ gonna take a while.”
“Doesn’t matter how long it takes.”
There was nothing to do but smile at that, because it really didn’t. They had forever now. A long path that led them to forever, no matter which way they turned. An eternity to heal.
A long and winding road where the finish line had been replaced with nothing.
There was no finish line in forever. Not in the way of the world.
But that was a worry for tomorrow. For the next day of daunting surprises in the midst of a mid-afternoon wake. When they could finally begin.
When they could finally put this pissant town behind them.
*~*~*
The scene upon entering the Wensel House sitting room was familiar but welcoming. A noted gathering of the Scoobies and the White House staffers, whom Spike was sure had left about an hour ago, talking quietly about some new mishap that had managed to occur in the time since the ritual had taken place. Giles was the first to glance up, his eyes widening with relief when he saw Buffy at his side, but strangely adhered to the severe look the vampire delivered before he could jump into a line of questioning.
Xander, on the other hand, had no such tact. His eyes about bugged out of his head, and he immediately jumped to his feet. “Buffy!” he yelled. “You’re all…Buffy!”
A grateful smile arose to her face. “Yeah. Hey, Xan.” Her eyes traveled to the redhead that had saved her life, but she held up a hand before people could fire more questions in her direction. “I…thank you all for everything…but really, I don’t want to…I can’t talk about it just yet, okay?”
Josh flashed a winning grin. “What? You just had a god mojo’ed out of you and you’re not ready for your Barbara Walters special?”
“Ignore him,” Donna advised. “Most of us do.”
Spike smirked and nodded at her. “Aren’t the lot of you s’posed to be on your way the hell away from here?”
“Don’t start,” Josh said, holding up a hand. “I just got off speaker with Leo and the President, both of whom are starting to freak in a way it’s not good to freak when you have nuclear weapons at your disposal. Leo’s having to talk the President down from flying down here personally when he has a country to run.”
Buffy frowned. “What good would the President coming down here be to anyone?”
“None, and that’s the point. The President can’t stand the thought that we’re down here, stuck by forces outside of the norm, and there’s nothing he can do to get us out.” Josh heaved a sigh. “It’s one of those times when the man is trying to overthrow the title. That and he’s already…there was a thing with a kid. Lowell Lydell.”
Willow turned to him. “I didn’t hear about this.”
“Yeah,” Sam replied quickly before Josh could jump in. “It’s bad. Lowell Lydell is a high school senior in Minnesota. He’s…he was a victim of a hate crime because he’s gay.”
“He died not too long ago,” Toby added soberly. “It was on the news before we came down.”
The room stilled.
“Oh my God,” the redhead gasped.
“That’s not the worst part,” Josh continued. “The assailants were thirteen years old. They stripped him naked, tied him to a tree, and threw rocks and bottles at his head while making him recite Hail Marys.” He sighed and glanced down, rubbing his hands together. “The President has that on his desk, Leo’s thing, us to worry about and—”
Willow held up a hand, her eyes cold. “They threw rocks at his head?”
Sam rubbed her back supportively. “Willow—”
“They threw rocks at his head?”
The Deputy Communications Director scowled and turned to Josh. “This is why I didn’t want you to mention it.”
“I was just saying, the President has a lot on his mind. You know how he feels about—”
“Yes, but you didn’t have to mention it.”
“I’d still like to know what the lot of you sods are doin’ here,” Spike offered, tearing the redhead’s outrage away from an incident she could do nothing about and back to the more important present.
It took a few seconds for the outrage behind her eyes to fade, but it did. A calm reasoning overcoming her adversity. “Yeah, that’s kind’ve the thing,” she said. “They were on their way out and, surprise surprise, the wall’s still up.”
Buffy frowned. “The huh?”
“Quirinias wasn’t defeated when we…for lack of a better word, exorcised him from your body,” Wesley explained. “In fact, we think his strength may have skyrocketed to catastrophic proportions.”
A cold air settled over the room. The vampire tensed into a stonewall, his eyes dark and dangerous. “What?”
The word was not spoken so much as it was barked.
“We’re all going to die,” Anya offered simplistically.
Xander closed his eyes as though pained. “Ahn…”
“He won’t be able to take Buffy now,” Willow hurried to explain, shooting a quick glare at the former demon. “Not if he tried…it’d cripple him. She pretty much has the same amount of strength as he has…everything Quirinias has, except, well, being Quirinias. B-but we think since we did the spell and used a lot of power that he, ummm, fed off of it and is loads stronger than he was before.”
Buffy squeezed Spike’s hand reassuringly, but he didn’t budge. “How stronger?” she asked.
“Stronger to the point that if he wanted to take Faith, it wouldn’t take nearly as much time as it did the first time around…with the light show and everything. We’ve pretty much jonesed him with power.” The redhead licked her lips. “Which also means that those demons that were running rampant through town prior to the entire…thing. The…”
“Buruburus,” the Watchers supplied.
“Yeah. We can expect more of those. And more of…whatever.” Willow turned to the coffee table and tugged the nearest open text into her lap. “Josh also found this thing when we were researching what happened to you.”
“I did?”
Sam nodded at him. “You fell asleep right after.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “I vaguely remember that.”
Buffy wet her lips. “What did he find?”
“Quirinias has the ability to sire gods,” Giles answered, removing his glasses. “And has been known by different names throughout history. Buku, for one, in Africa where he was at times worshipped as a goddess. There is every possibility that he has assumed a variety of shapes and names through different cultures and that this translation that you and Spike found at the Myrtles was just one of thousands.” A somber look crossed his face. “If Quirinias succeeds in seizing Faith as he attempted to do you…”
Buffy blinked. “He has the ability to make gods?”
“Evidently.”
“Does this mean I have the ability to make gods? ‘Cause really? Not a power I’m wanting.”
Giles smiled grimly. “It would take years to progress to that level. You are at heart a human being. Your body is capable, yes…but not without preparation. The power that you have is extraordinary…using it—”
“Okay, let me stop you right there.” The Slayer held out a hand. “There will be no using of my powers. Got it? Good.”
“Power’s no fun if you can’t use it,” Anya pouted, elbowing Xander. “Tell her she’s being stupid.”
The former demon’s comment went, by in large, ignored. The Watcher’s eyes were trained on his Slayer. “Buffy—”
“No. I’m not a god. Not in the way that gods are gods. I’m not cut out for it. And I just…no. The thought alone terrifies me. I am one, and now I have the ability to create them? Create gods?” She didn’t realize how hard she was shaking until Spike drew her into his arms, and then everything else was muffled into his shirt.
The vampire kissed her forehead reverently and glanced at the elder Watcher over the top of her head. “Let’s skip ahead on the ‘god creating bit’, shall we?”
“We can’t,” Wesley intervened, braving the harsh glare that was automatically aimed in his direction. “Well, we can bypass the creating of gods, but Buffy’s newfound powers could be what stands between us and the end of the world. Presuming that Faith is not found between now and the time that it takes the possession to become permanent, we could very well need Buffy to banish Quirinias once and for all.”
The look Spike gave him spoke volumes to the fact that if it weren’t for the blonde in his arms, Wesley would already be an afterthought. “What makes you think we won’ find Faith before then?” he snarled.
Josh cleared his throat. “How about the fact that you guys, umm, haven’t yet?”
“And even when you did, you left her where she was,” Toby added.
“Buffy was hit,” the vampire growled, eyes blazing dangerous shades of yellow. “Faith stopped mattering then.”
“Well, she matters now.” Giles didn’t flinch when he became subject to the growing wealth of hostility, rather sat reasonably and nodded. “We are not condemning you for thinking of Buffy first,” he said. “I believe any of us in that situation would have done the same. The fact remains that Quirinias very intentionally led Faith here from Sunnydale with the hopes that we would follow. He needed a Slayer, and since Faith is the active Slayer, she was the one selected. He also needed his book uncovered and read as to release his potential and prepare the ritual, all while containing Faith’s whereabouts from us using whatever power he had. Everything I have researched has screamed ardently that Buffy was never his objective…she was just in the way. Now that he’s lost her but gained an extraordinary amount of power in the process, there is absolutely no reason to think he will not revert to the original plan of possessing Faith. Which similarly means that the blocks that were initially placed around her will be strengthened.” The Watcher drew in a deep breath and glanced to Sam. “I also have reason to believe that whatever she did to you…she was being driven mad, or to a point of desperation. Quirinias has been working her from the beginning. I know that it is not…entirely unlike Faith to behave so wantonly, but even she has her limits.” He turned back to the blonde couple, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “The fact that Faith has eluded you has been neither your or her fault. It is not impossible, but highly unlikely that we will see her again before…the transformation is complete.”
Buffy was grasping him tight enough to break a regular man in two. Spike rubbed reassuring circles into her back and nodded at Giles. “What happens then?”
“Willow…” A shuddering sigh escaped the Watcher, and he turned to the redhead with a note of sorrow. “God, I don’t want to do this…the full of the Rite of Thrieve would have to be enacted…not the abbreviated version used on Buffy. Since we are sorely lacking a warlock or a sorcerer, Buffy would be the next choice, seeing as her power—even though she is currently unadjusted to it—matches Quirinias beat for beat. She would do nothing but sit with Willow and one other person of no consequence as Willow recited the passage.”
Josh perked a brow. “Why of no consequence?”
“Because we don’t want Willow to be dead,” Anya answered unhelpfully.
The room sent her a cold look that she ignored without fault.
Giles licked his lips and glanced to the Witch, who was already pale at the thought of going through the uncensored account of what had nearly forced her into a coma. There was fear there, but comprehension that could not be undermined. “Because the power that she tapped into the first time was already more than her body was accustomed to,” he explained. “More than she had ever thought to touch before. And there is no going back from that. Throwing a god into the mix—” He nodded at Buffy. “—could be…but there’s nothing else. We have nothing else. While Wesley and I are schooled in the basics of wizardry, we have no capacity to hold it as Willow does. And if we tried to take the place as the third wielder, we could end up doing more damage than good.”
“And Anya?”
The former demon shrugged. “I don’t have any powers,” she said. “When I tried to regain my powers, I went to Willow for help. Whatever residual powers I have are not nearly strong enough to do something like this.”
“But she has enough,” Giles continued, “to merit a threat. If it comes down to this, it would need to be in an open area where the rest of us could form a circle around Willow, Buffy, and whomever else we select. Some translations of the rite mention a Keeper of Words…or someone who stands not in the circle or with the three, reciting holy passages in Latin.”
“That me?” Spike offered, arching a brow.
“No. That would be my role. We would need you in the circle around the three.” He glanced down. “I’m not entirely sure how much physical strength comes into play, but I’d rather not take my chances.”
The vampire nodded. “You better not sully your Latin either, mate.”
“I do not sully—”
“The President of the United States agreed with me when neither of you wankers would come down from your mighty horse to admit ole Spike might be smarter than either of you ever gave credit.” He smiled proudly. “Better run it through me before you start recitin’ somethin’ that could end the world you’re dyin’ to save.”
“The President agreed with you?” Buffy asked, impressed.
Spike nodded and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Put your wanker of a Watcher in his place, at that.”
The Watcher expelled a deep breath. “Be that as it may, the President would not necessarily agree with your take on every translation, Spike. And there’s every possibility that he could foul it up, himself.”
Josh, Toby, Sam, and Donna all exchanged a skeptical glance before declaring on the same beat, “No it’s not.”
“I don’t mean to suggest—”
“I know,” Donna said neutrally before Josh could jump in. “But you don’t know the President. He doesn’t foul up Latin.”
“He also gave me an executive order about…Latin,” the Deputy Chief of Staff added, tossing Spike a wary glance. “You’re supposed to listen to him.”
Xander cocked a brow. “An executive order about Latin? Can he do that?”
“No, but it sounds impressive.” Josh grinned. “And it wasn’t actually to follow Spike, but more that he has no tolerance for messing up Latin. And, call me stupid—”
“You’re stupid,” Donna muttered airily.
“—but the guy’s a vampire that’s been around, you know, a lot longer than you guys.”
Anya cleared her throat.
“Not you. But do you know Latin?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then stop bothering me. Point being, he knows Latin and he’s known it longer than either of you. Plus, right now, he’s the one the President trusts to not mess up any translations. So you should listen to him.”
Spike grinned. “Thanks, mate.”
The other man shook his head. “Not for you. The President might be a nerd, but he knows his Latin. And in that, I trust his judgment implicitly.”
“You big nerd,” Buffy murmured fondly, squeezing his hand.
The vampire scowled at her, but his eyes were dancing. It was good to hear a note of humor edging into a voice that had known such pain in just the past few days. He didn’t reply; instead turned to Giles who had resigned himself to the fact that he was outnumbered. “Do you have anythin’ on where the other Slayer might’ve been taken? Don’ wager she’s still danglin’ a hundred feet up at Longwood.”
“No, she’s gone. She disappeared, though, from Mrs. Banta’s house before she had entirely healed.” The elder Watcher shrugged. “That’s the only lead I could track in the amount of time that I had.”
“How’d you track it?” Donna asked, frowning.
“I called Longwood and asked if anyone had found a girl chained to the dome.”
“Oh.”
“So, I patrol, then? Try to track the bird down?” Spike asked. His hands came up when he earned a series of skeptical glances. “Yeh, I know what was said an’ all. Still doesn’ mean I’m gonna sit here on my hands an’ do rot but wait till the big beastie decides to tear us to bitty bits.”
“You’re going to patrol?” Buffy asked softly, her eyes wide with fear that he couldn’t bear to see her wear. “Okay. If you’re patrolling, I’m going with you.”
“No. You’re really not.”
“Spike—”
“You think I jus’ went through that to have you—”
The room settled awkwardly; a series of uncomfortable glances exchanged as the couple broke into a mini-spat.
“Spike! I’m going. Case closed. If you’re going out, I’m going, too. That’s the way it works.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “I’m not going to…we chanced it once, right?”
“Yeh, an’ you ended up god chow. You think I could go through that again?”
The pain that flashed across his face tore at her heart, but she remained unmoved. There was no way she was letting him out of her sight until there was a good thousand miles between them and Natchez. This place was tainted with the stench of devastation. It had already taken so much from her; she would not give it the chance to take him, too.
Slowly, Buffy raised his hand to her heart, eyes locked with his. Well aware but uncaring that they were the center of attention, even in front of those who weren’t ready for the depth of their relationship. A fact she understood but had long stopped worrying over. She was in love with Spike, mated to Spike, and if they didn’t like that, there was a door just waiting to be used. “Spike,” she whispered. “Please.”
The sound of his harsh breaths rang against the still air that did not want them. He was thoroughly torn—the love in his eyes so deep she could drown. It was a hard decision, but one they both had to confront. There in the midst of everything, trust. Trust in more than each other.
Trust in things they had never had reason to trust before.
In a claim that was no more than an hour old in completion.
“Yeh,” he said finally, shoulders sagging. “We go. Right?” When she nodded, it was over. Just like that. Spike reeled her into his side and turned back to the others. “’F Quiriny takes over the other Slayer,” he remarked, “how long do we have?”
There was a pause. Giles finally cleared his throat and glanced down. “Ummm…we’ll work on that,” he replied. “You two better get moving.”
“Right.”
And without another word to the contrary, Spike tugged on Buffy’s hand and led her out the back, the storm door slamming hard behind them. And then they were off. Falling into stride. Side-by-side. Hands linked. Touring the city with the eyes of a newborn god.
Kissing the night sky that had never shone so bright.
Though honestly, she didn’t know if that was the god part of her or the other thing. The power she felt trembled at the promise of what she had at her side. For all the fear, all the sense of finality, the realization of how terrible things were, she had never been happier. Never felt like this before.
Balancing the scales between fear and happiness could be a dangerous thing. But for the moment, she did not care. Could not. There was only this and the mission. The mission was what mattered.
The mission and the man at her side.
All the rest, she would think about tomorrow.
TBC