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Of the thirty-odd girls that had entered the Hellmouth, fourteen were crammed onto the ripe-smelling vinyl bus seats. The sound of Chao-han’s wheezing laughter as Dawn translated their victory to her as her blood pooled beneath her, too fast for even a slayer’s abilities to heal. Giles was at the wheel, Principal Wood reclining behind him, Faith applying pressure to the hole in his gut. They were heading to a hospital in the next town over, somewhere the wounded could be treated properly and finally get a hot meal. Buffy wasn’t sure the last time she’d eaten anything besides cereal,and even that had been over a day ago. Even so, she could feel nothing but a swell of relief. Finally she could lay down her General’s stars. Finally she was no longer alone. Possibilities stretched out before her, more than a sweaty job behind the counter of some fast food joint. But then, real life was catching up as well. She’d be needing a new house and a new life to go along with it.
She thought of Spike’s time in the school basement, finally freed yet trapped by his own ruin. She shuddered. Though Giles was in no state to talk she was sure he had some money left over from the order that could be used to her and the girls' benefit. Running a glorified youth hostel had to count for something and being blasted to bits and all didn’t exactly cost much.
All these thoughts ran through her mind, all fleeing away with each new bounce of the bus seat. Yet, Spike’s last words seemed etched in the walls of her mind - much like the chip, she thought wryly.
It was just like Spike to do something like that. Just at the moment she gave him exactly what he’d wanted — she knew he wanted it, could see the euphoria that lit his dark eyes for a moment — it was then he chose to repel her. Despite his complaints about being relegated to whipping boy, it was evident that he enjoyed it.
The worst part was what he said was true. But-
Buffy couldn’t finish the thought.
“Willow, there’s something I need you to do for me…”
Buffy stood at the center of the crater she had once come home to. In a way it was a homecoming, but in the awkward way adults revisit their childhood playground when they (almost) singlehandedly blew the entire thing to bits. Buffy sighed, all that there was left to do was to wait.
“Buffy no. I mean I know Buffy, but really no. You can only summon the dead once, the pot is broken and-”
“Willow your little girl-toy told me all about you going all ‘white and holy’ down there. I believed in you then and I believe in you now. Or do you only do favors for the girls who are up in your oven making vegan baked goods?”
Kennedy grinned, wiping her hands on her jeans and raising her eyebrows. “Is that really all I had to do to get you, Wil? We could have skipped all the angst and had delicious gooey brownies!”
A mystified look crossed Willow’s face for a moment, drawn back from their San Francisco apartment to that dusty little Sunnydale bedroom.
“Come on, I found the pot shards, repair it, restore it, summon this mummy guy and I’ll do the whole snake charmer thing! I’ve charmed quite a lot of snakes in my time, really.” Buffy noted that with age Willow’s patented concerned frown was starting to look frighteningly like her mother’s. “Willow!”
“It’s a lot more complicated than that, Buffy! First of all, that snake was anything but charming, and I know you can handle it but-”
“But what?” Buffy knew what was coming next, the real reason Willow was so hesitant to summon the god of the dead, but really, why was she putting up such a fuss? Glory had ruined gods for Buffy - they lost a lot of their grandeur when they made sexually predatory comments and tried to kill your sister.
“You’ve been really good since Spike was dusted. You’re finally getting a hang of this ‘normal life’ thing. I mean, you do still give inspirational speeches to the postman, but it’s more normal, Buffy, and what you had with Spike was-”
“Sad? Fucked up? Overly resembling young adult fiction?”
“Toxic,” Kennedy finished on behalf of the stammering Willow, putting a cocoa-powder-covered hand on her girlfriend's shoulder.
“I know. I know, I just-” Buffy watched fondly as a blushing Willow attempted to fight off Kennedy’s flirtatious hands. “I’m finished baking now.”
“If you don’t like baking you-” Willow started.
“No, I mean like a metaphor. Like I was cookie dough and now I’m cookies. Given, scolding hot, melty cookies, but cookies all the same. And I think- I know Spike needs to finish baking too. And this time, maybe… You know he did save the world, Willow, the least you could do is help me drag him out of the ground!”
“Fine, but you’re going to have to stick around and help us clean up, unlike last time.”
“All right, but it’s not my fault Kennedy makes such a mess.”
Buffy could hear the sound of fingernails tearing at the dried dirt beneath her feet. A decade of slaying had made it familiar. An anxious energy overtook her limbs, but she resisted the urge to throw herself down to rip apart the ground from above.
She was sweating in the afternoon sun by the time a hand burst out of the dirt, groping madly at anything to gain leverage. She grasped it and hauled the man out of the soil.
Spike stared at her with frantic eyes, squinting at her as if she were a stranger. His hands were bleeding, nails cracked and torn, black nail polish clinging on like dying coals. “I don’t think… I’ve ever… seen you in the sun before.” His words were choppy and so quiet Buffy would have missed them if she hadn’t seen his lips move. “Buffy.” The name was a question and an answer.
“So, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” Her tone was casual, but Buffy’s face remained sharp, her arms crossed, the cloudless sky illuminating her.
“You knew, you knew and you-” Spike let out a hoarse chuckle and looked away, “You know, it was nice, I’m surprised you stuck around this long after getting a taste of that.”
“Aren’t a lot of vamps to dust in heaven.”
“Not a lot of vamps period. And to answer your question, yes, though I suppose not as much as it did to get it. Quite an exclusive little club that.” Spike kicked some of the dirt at his feet and huffed as if still getting used to breathing - and perhaps he was. “You were right, though. I knew you were safe, I finally knew you were going to be okay and it was because of me.”
Buffy raised her eyebrows.
“I knew that nothing and no one could change what I had done for you. You do live to prove me wrong, love. But I’d become the kind of man who-” Spike paused, putting a hand to his chest dubiously, fingertips seeking out the faint drumbeat within. “Bloody hell, pet, a slayer bites you and you turn into a human.”
“Actually witches, witches did that bit, but the slayer certainly gave them some encouragement,” Buffy stated sagely.
Spike took a shaky step forward, reaching out with gory fingers for Buffy’s own pristine ones. “What are you playing at?”
“God, according to Willow.”
Their hands met in an echo of their last embrace.
Spike chuckled, “The witch isn’t one to talk.” He squeezed Buffy’s hand and sighed, “Though I don’t disagree. You never really grasped R.I.P., did you? So what Big Bad you want offed this time, love? Your champion awaits.” The smugness was palpable.
“There isn’t one.”
“One what?”
“No big bad. No champion.” Buffy’s hand fell limply to her side as Spike pulled away, searching her eyes trying to find the missing piece, but there wasn’t anything missing anymore.
“Do you just pull blokes back to hell at your leisure now?”
“We both know that hell isn’t this.”
“Bloody well feels like it.” Spike paced away, wiping some of the sand and debris from his face and hiding his eyes. “I saved the world for you, Buffy. I saved the whole bleedin’ world cause of one girl, so stop playing games. Your punching bag’s retired.”
“You don’t belong in heaven, Spike. Saving the world for one girl doesn’t make you a hero. It makes you a man.”
A visible sag came to Spike’s shoulders, and he glanced at Buffy like a kicked mutt. “I know I’ve done things. I’m selfish. I’m not a hero, but-”
“Spike.” Buffy dropped her stern expression, eyes softening. “You deserve the chance to become the sort of man who belongs in heaven. You deserve to live.”
It took a moment for the smile to creep onto Spike’s lips. “Goldilocks does fancy herself a god. And what am I supposed to do with this life, oh great one?” he added with a mock curtsy.
Buffy couldn’t help the eye roll and turned back to start up the rocky edge of the crater. “Do what you want, I’m getting a sunburn.”
“Oy, oy, oy, hold on a moment,” Spike ran to block her path, “I don’t mean to- I am happy to see you.” He paused, glancing down at his hands, and Buffy could see a glimpse of the long-dead William. “Won’t you just sit with me a moment?” Spike huffed as if he thought she could refuse him.
Willow had been right and wrong about Spike. Buffy had given Spike a clean slate, but she had not forgotten. The touches to her arm had been so warm as to be foreign, but the same tentative delicacy remained in his touch like he was afraid she might shatter at any moment – or more likely, he might.
Buffy no longer needed Spike to be there. She was finally whole, even if it had taken two and a half years of reconciliation and crashing on Willow’s couch. Buffy finally, for the first time in her life since the age of fifteen, felt she had her life figured out. Or rather, had come to terms with the fact she never would. But just because she didn’t need Spike didn’t mean she hadn’t missed the clumsy care that he took with her – it didn’t mean she didn’t want him.
Spike was squinting up at the sun with a bemused look on his face, lying on his back with his coat spread beneath them both like a leather picnic blanket.
“I was right, you know,” Spike said playfully
“Huh,” Buffy replied, nonplussed.
“If you did love me, you’d have left me up there with all the happy little birds ‘n’ things.”
A tense silence fell between them as they baked in the sun.
“I don’t remember any birds…”
“Not the point. Admit it, I was right about you. Not such a mystery now, slayer.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking, that was really rude of you.”
“What?”
“You know, telling someone they don’t love you and forcing them to leave you so you can burst into flame and all that – totally rude.”
Spike scowled. “Well I’m sorry you missed the good bits, you know, the rubble falling and the organs popping.” He moved to get up, but when he looked over at Buffy she was grinning, her eyes closed against the brightness of the sun – radiant and glowing. Effulgent.
“You were right, I didn’t love you. But I knew then that I could.” Her eyes opened and they were as clear and beautiful as the eyes of God.