Buffy planted her feet firmly on the ground bringing them both to a skidding halt. "Alright, chuckles. What do you want?"
Spike rolled his eyes, inhaling needlessly with exasperation. "Why do all of our conversations start off the same way?"
She grinned mirthlessly, pale skin stretching over tired features, "kind of tells you something, doesn't it?" She said wearily. She was tired, so tired. And there was somewhere else she needed to be, she realized that now. Although he wouldn't even know she was there.
"Yeah," he nodded, "that you don't trust me. You keep forgetting that we're in this together."
"Really? And I was so sure I'd heard that our deal was off."
He grinned, "shall we say it's back on again, and leave it at that?"
She raised her head. Dawn was coming soon, bringing with it a sudden sense of urgency. She needed to be with him now. She turned to leave, her mind focused on her task. She would hold her lover's hand till it crumbled to dust in her own.
Spike was suddenly in her face, his hands clutching at her shoulders, shaking her. "This isn't over!" He cried, his face inches from hers, "Angel's dying, but that doesn't mean we all have to go with him!"
"There's nothing I can do, Spike!" She yelled back. He stopped shaking her, but his hands still gripped her shoulders, "there is," he said quietly. "There're," he hesitated for a moment, "people," he finally said. "They want to help. They need to talk to you."
She caught the slight hitch in his voice, "people?" She asked, hoping he wouldn't reply. She was so tired, tired of death and danger and secrets.
His eyes suddenly found the tops of his shoes unbearably interesting, "elders," he muttered. "Vampire elders."
She opened her mouth, tried to say something, anything, but nothing other than a throaty chuckle escaped her lips. Vampires, she thought, and they wanted to see her, to help her. Yeah, and Principal Snyder was just moments away from adding her name to the honor role. How stupid did he think she was?
He peered into her face, trying to gauge her reactions, "they have as much of an interest in this as the rest of us, pet," he said lamely. "Nobody really wants to die."
She snickered, there were times in her life that she would have gladly died. If only so that she wouldn't have to kill. "Forget it," she said flatly. "It's bad enough that I cut a deal with you, I have no intention to start bringing in any more," she paused for a moment, trying to decide exactly what he was, "help," she finally said. "From now on I fight alone." She looked him directly in the eyes, making sure he caught the seriousness of her mood. "I don't want your help," she said coolly, evenly, "I don't want any more vampire help, whatever age they may be. When Angel dies," she swallowed hard trying to erase the taste those words left in her mouth, "I fight. Alone."
His arms flailed with exasperation, "Then you die alone, you silly tart!" He yelled, "how can you bloody well fight when you don't even know what you're up against?" He demanded. "These people, they can help you."
"Only they're not people. They're vampires and elders to top it off. How old are they, Spike? Were they front row center when Jesus got nailed to a cross? Did they write a patent to the first wheel?" Her voice rose, her tone more demanding, "were they there when fire was discovered?" Her tirade was blowing out of control, "were they born after man came down from the trees," her eyes flashed, "or are they half ape?" Her fists clenched, raised as if to hit something, preferably something blond.
His eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared. His mouth opened to deliver a scalding retort, but he never got the chance. Softly, subtly, as if she were ashamed to do so, the ground shook under their feet. The vampire and the Slayer stared at each other in stunned amazement. "Bloody fitting that there should be a hell mouth in southern California." Spike muttered once the slight tremor stopped. "This place is already hell enough. I hate earthquakes."
Earthquake. There'd been an earthquake before. "Oh my God, Angel!" Buffy gasped as she began to run.
His body trembled uncontrollably, his hands clawing at the ground. The earth shrieked around him, her pain mirroring his own. In his mind a scream echoed, banging against the walls of his brain, demanding to be released. His mouth gaped open like a bleeding wound, but not a sound came out.
"Can you feel it?" A voice cried in his mind, its ecstasy enough to drive him begging for insanity, "can you feel life burning through your veins?" He felt it, with every fiber of his being he felt it. His skin burned like living flame, his blood boiling through his body.
"Live, Angelus!" The voice commanded, and he could not disobey. Too far lost to pain to resist, fistfuls of ravaged earth and grass clenched in his hands, he thrashed and twisted like a creature insane.
She ran harder than she ever had in her life. Her lungs breathed fire and her side burned as though a knife had sliced through it. It only made her run faster, holding her side like a woman bleeding to death, gasping like the damned she had only one thought in mind. If Angel were dead she would soon follow.
She didn't notice the figure running beside her, didn't care that he was keeping up with her only by sheer force of will. "Buffy, wait!" He called out to her. But even had she heard him she would never have waited. She had waited too long, wasted too much time.
The mansion loomed ahead like an icon of doom, dark and full of secrets in the steely gray skies of false dawn.
The scream echoed around her as she reached the stairs, bringing her to a skidding halt. Spike slammed into her an instant later sending them both tumbling against the stairs.
They stayed where they were for a long moment, listening helplessly as the sound of pure agony rolled off into the night and died gently as though it had never existed at all.
"Angel," Buffy moaned. She was too late and her lover had died. Somehow she managed to rise up and walk to the door, somewhere she found the strength to twist the knob and push it open. Ashes to ashes, she thought, dust to dust.
She looked over at the cot and stared helplessly at the trembling, bewildered vampire as he raised his head. He looked around slowly, his features betraying his horror. His hair a dark halo over his pale haunted face, "is this real?" He whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.
They gaped at him speechless, lost to shock. "Yes," Willow finally replied, her voice quivering with awe.
His features crumbled, slowly he curled in on himself as soft whimpers escaped his mouth.
That was enough to pull Buffy out of her stupor. With three quick strides she was by her lover's side, her arms reaching to embrace him.
"Buffy!" Giles snapped.
But she was done waiting. She had waited much too long. If he was Angelus then she would die anyway because she didn't have the strength to fight him again. If he was Angel, she had betrayed him enough. With that thought in mind her arms closed around the suffering man, pulling him into her soft embrace.
She rocked him gently, as she would a weeping child. As he slowly surrendered to exhaustion in the comfort of her arms she vowed to herself that she would never betray him again. For once the world would have to fend for itself.
"How did this happen?" Spike whispered, unable to take his eyes off the couple.
"I don't know," Giles replied, his face a mask of conflicting emotion. "I wish I did."
