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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground	By : cousinjean Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 2581 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
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Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground

by cousinjean

Chapter Sixteen -- ...Is a Tiny Little Gift To Me

~*~

This one called her "mother." She really hated that. It not only gave her yet more guilt; it also pissed her off.

In the beginning, the guilt would have won out, defeated her before the fight even began. Now, though, she focused on the anger, let it build even as she knew it wasn't justified. The anger gave her strength. It gave her the will to win.

The vampire--

Dressed in a suit when she'd found him, getting home late from work. "Please," he'd cried. "My family... my kids..." Do they mourn him? Do they go on without him? Are they all dead? Changed? Will she come across them one night on patrol? Will they call her mother, too?

--was bigger than her, maybe stronger. But she was faster. She ducked his punches and got in two for every one he threw. She didn't say anything. No quips, no puns, no witty one-liners or cute retorts. Nothing to show that she was above them, better than them, different from them. She wasn't. She was one of them.

She was what caused them.

He hit her, again and again. She let his punches fuel her anger and his overconfidence. Then rebounded off the side of a building and whipped around, aiming a boot to his head. He grabbed her foot--okay, maybe he was just confident enough; or maybe just lucky--and swung her into the building across the alley. She managed to twist her face away and shield her head, but the impact jarred her. Before she could recover he had her, lifting her over his head, then throwing her into a stack of milk crates.

Her head smacked pavement. Little squiggly lights swarmed the gray edges of her vision. She blinked, trying to see straight, and saw him standing over her, raising her stake. As Buffy watched it come down at her, she hoped Spike would be okay, that he wouldn't somehow blame himself for this.

The vampire went poof, raining dust down on her.

Wiping it out of her eyes, Buffy smiled. She should have known he'd be there, as always, watching her back. Looking up, her smile faded.

"Angel?"

He stepped back, looked away from her, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his jaw clenched tight.

Slowly, Buffy sat up, got to her feet, and brushed herself off. "What are you doing here?"

"Cleaning up your mess."

Ow. She folded her arms. "Thanks for the save. But don't tell me. You only did it so you could kill me yourself."

He looked at the ground. "I'm not gonna kill you." Lifted his gaze to meet hers. "That'd be letting you off too easy."

Wow. Whole new levels of "ow." Buffy nodded. "In that case, I have work to do. Take care of yourself, Angel." She turned to go.

"Buffy, wait."

She spun back around. "Why? So you can tell me what a monster I am, like I don't already know?" Part of her felt bad for snapping at him. She had no right. But she was so. Goddamn. Tired, and he knew. He knew how it felt to be her and he was punishing her anyway.

Looking back at the ground, Angel sighed. "I can't forgive you for Connor."

"Well. That's good to know. Really."

"Not yet." He looked at her. "But I'm working on it."

Again, Buffy folded her arms. "Oh." Well. That was something. More than she had any right to expect. They stood for a long time in awkward silence. Finally, she said, "Angel, I'm not going to insult you with an apology. But if...." Her voice trailed off. She couldn't finish. Anything else she could say would be just as useless and empty as "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," said Angel. "If."

Buffy wanted to ask him how the hell he'd even had a son, and a grown one at that; but this was so not the time. Instead she said, "You shouldn't be out here by yourself. It's dangerous."

"I'm not. Wes has people trailing me."

"Good. Except, that sounds really annoying."

"Yeah." Angel shrugged. "He means well."

"You should be more careful, though. If anything happened to you...." She swallowed. "Like you said. It's my mess. Spike and I have got it covered."

"Where is Spike?"

"He's... on an errand." Buffy thought it best not to tell him about their work on the curse. Not like he'd ever bothered to try and fix it when it had been his problem. She understood why. He hadn't believed he deserved to have it lifted. Not by his doing, at any rate. He'd had to earn it. He wouldn't think she and Spike had.

Well, fuck him. It wasn't any of his business, anyway.

"Guess it's lucky I was here," he said, looking at the crates where she'd been thrown.

"Yeah. Lucky."

"So."

"So."

"I'll see you around, Buffy." With that, he turned to go.

"Yeah," she said. "See you."

She turned in the opposite direction. She didn't get very far before a voice said, "He'll come around, you know. He just needs time to get the big brood out of his system."

Buffy spun toward the voice. As recognition dawned, she stared in disbelief at the woman leaning casually against the building.

"Cordelia?"

"In the radiant, albeit temporary, flesh."

"H--how? You... you're..."

"Dead? Yeah, well, right back at ya."

Buffy closed her eyes and took a moment to compose herself. She tried to remember everything they'd said about Cordy. How she'd become a conduit for the Powers That Be, and how she'd gone through some kind of ascension. How she'd appeared to Angel and helped him fight one last time even as her body lay in a coma. Cordelia was a messenger. Buffy figured she should probably listen. Wow. Listening to Cordelia. That had never been priority one--or even twenty--on her To Do list. Even so, she opened her eyes and asked, "Why are you here?"

"I'm here because your new husband is about to do something even more colossally stupid than usual and the Powers want him stopped before he can screw everything up again."

Buffy swallowed her irritation at the way Cordelia talked about Spike. It was overshadowed by the knot growing in her stomach, anyway. "What is he--?"

"He's about to make a deal with the Senior Partners. He's going to sign his Shanshu over to you, and sign his life away in the process."

Cold fear washed through Buffy, followed by a strange calm. "Where is he?"

"In a minute."

"Spike might not have a minute!"

Cordy held up her hands. "Just listen. The Powers have a counter offer."

"Why aren't you telling this to Spike?"

"Because you're the only one who can accept it. You can both be human again. After you've finished ridding the earth of vampires."

"That could take forever," said Buffy.

"What, like you're in some kind of hurry? You're immortal. Anyway," she said, folding her arms imperiously, "that's the deal. You and Spike keep doing what you're doing, and when you're done, the Powers will restore your lives."

"That's a deal? 'Do what you were going to do anyway, and we'll throw in a shiny new two-seater Shanshu if you don't get killed'?" Buffy shook her head. "I don't have time for this. Where is he?"

Cordy's demeanor softened. "Reseda."

As Cordy told her the address, Buffy was already on the move. She hailed a cab and repeated the location. "Hurry," she told the driver, digging out all of the cash she had on her and dumping it in the front seat. She showed him her vamp face, too. Let him think his life depended on getting her there now.

Maybe it did. She was in a murderous mood. If Spike was still alive when she got there, she was going to kill him. Of all the idiotic.... After all that they'd been through, how could he do this? How could he think she'd choose a heartbeat over him? That her life would mean anything without him in it? She looked down at her wedding ring and grew even more furious. "This was supposed to mean you'd always be there."

"What?" called the cabby.

"Nothing." Realizing they were close, and that traffic was slowing them down, she said, "Here's good." She jumped out of the cab without waiting for it to stop. She landed hard, rolled, then was on her feet and running. She had the building in her sights when it happened.

Blinding light flashed from the rooftop. Like lightning, the power from it prickled her skin. Her limbs grew sluggish. She kept running, but soon she was panting, out of breath. As she slowed to a stop, she could feel it.

Her heart was beating.

"No." She sank to the ground. "Please, no." She felt her skin warm as fresh blood pumped through her veins. "Spike. Oh God!" Buffy looked up at the building. This couldn't be happening. She was so close. They had a better deal. They had each other. She wasn't going to let him throw it all away. "No!" she screamed, dragging herself to her feet, forcing herself to run.

It wasn't too late. She would make it not too late.

Inside the old building, she forced her weak, human, not-even-Slayer-powered legs to carry her up the stairs. Cordelia waited for her at the top. "Buffy, I'm so sorry," she said.

"Get out of my way, Cordy."

"You're too late. It's done. Spike took the deal, there's nothing you can do."

Buffy shoved past her and pushed the door open to reveal Lilah Morgan. She stood at a card table, packing some papers into a briefcase. Without looking up she said, "Should I offer condolences or congratu-"

Before she could finish, Buffy shoved her face onto the table. "What did you do to him?"

Lilah grinned. "I'll go with congratulations. You're human again." She shoved herself off the table and twisted out of Buffy's grasp. "And only human. I hear that's just what you always wanted."

"What I want is my husband back."

"Sorry. He signed a contract, the conditions of which have been fulfilled."

Buffy looked at the open briefcase. "That it?" Without waiting for an answer, she snatched out the paperwork and tore it in two. "That's what I think of your contract."

Lilah shrugged. "Doesn't change anything."

"She's right, Buffy, as much as that phrase makes me want to vomit," said Cordelia, still standing in the doorway.

Buffy ignored her and took a step toward Lilah, doing her best to intimidate the taller, unkillable woman. "Bring him back."

She snorted. "Like that'll happen."

Buffy hit her. The punch might not have been super-powered, but there was enough fury driving it to make Lilah bleed. Her head snapped back and she stumbled, one hand flying to her nose and the other reaching for the table to catch herself. When she did she knocked her briefcase forward, and something metal fell and hit the tarred rooftop with a chink. Buffy watched it roll in circles until it settled on its side. In the soft glow of the city lights, the gold shined silver. She went to pick it up.

Cordelia came to stand beside her. "I know you don't want to hear this right now, but the Powers can restore you completely. They can make you the Slayer again."

"That's cheating," said Lilah, pulling Kleenex out of her briefcase and using it to blot her nose.

"Like you're one to start preaching about fair play. Anyway, was I talking to you?"

"I'm sorry, what? I didn't hear you; I was distracted by this stabbing pain in my neck."

Cordelia folded her arms. "And that would be one of the memories I was glad I got to keep."

While Good Bitch and Wicked Bitch sniped at each other, Buffy stared at the ring in the palm of her hand. It was just a game to them. The thought made bile rise in her throat. But as she traced the circle of Spike's wedding band, she realized: it was a game. And it was time to change the rules.

"Shut up!" she snapped, and they did. Without looking up from the ring she asked, "Why do I get the feeling that Spike and I are a couple of pawns in a cosmic chess match?"

"Because you're more perceptive than I thought?" said Lilah.

Buffy nodded. "A little slow on the uptake, though. But now I've got it figured out. And guess what? I just promoted myself to queen. It's my board now, and I'm calling checkmate."

"What is she talking about?" Lilah asked Cordelia.

She shook her head. "Buffy, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying our deal stands. The offer I accepted before Spike signed anything."

"But, you didn't accept it. You gave me the brush off. Spike's gone. And you're already human. I told you, you can be the Slayer ag-"

"There is no Slayer, Cordelia. She died. She got dragged to hell while ridding this world of evil, and they killed her there. The thing that came back took Spike's life. Now the Powers are gonna give it back."

"Buffy--"

"Make me the Slayer again." Buffy shrugged. "It won't make any difference. Without Spike, I'll do exactly what he wanted me to do: enjoy my Shanshu." Buffy closed her fist around the ring and looked at Cordelia. "And in forty or fifty years when I die a nice, natural death, maybe a new Slayer will be called. Then the Powers will have themselves a Champion."

Cordelia stared at her in disbelief. "That is so typical. This is exactly why everything is so screwy right now. You people don't know how to leave well enough alone and accept your fate."

"The way I figure, that's exactly why we keep getting chosen. And y'know, that righteous indignation would look a lot better on someone who didn't keep coming back from the dead to meddle."

"She's got you there," said Lilah.

"Shut up!" Cordelia and Buffy both snapped.

Cordelia sighed. "Buffy, I'm going to say this in small words: Spike is gone. He's dust. This vampire has ceased to be. And I'm sorry. I am. But that's the way it is."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You've gotta be kidding me. You're telling me that the same people who brought Angel back can't do the same for Spike?"

"Angel wasn't dust. He was just in another dimension."

"Yeah, well, somebody brought Spike back from dust. And before that, I watched Dracula put himself back together after I staked him. It can be done. The Powers can do it. Or I'll find someone who can."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Cordelia cocked a hip and propped a fist on it. "You'd wait until everything started to balance out again, and then you'd find a way to bring him back and make everything all kerflooey." She looked at Lilah. "And you. You knew that this would happen."

Lilah batted her eyelashes and put her hand on her chest. "Who, little ol' me?"

Cordelia's eyes narrowed. "You don't just want them out of the way. You want them to keep disrupting the balance."

"Please. The Senior Partners love balance. It gives them a fighting chance. Your Powers are just sore because the scales are no longer tipping their way."

"Seems to me they're about to tip the other way," said Buffy. "From where I stand, it's easy math. They give Spike back, stick to their original deal, and they've got themselves two champions as long as they need us. As it stands, they don't have any. Wolfram and Hart wins. Plus, they're looking at a lone little human girl who won't quit until she gets her happy ending."

"You're right," said Cordelia. "You're an unbelievably stubborn bitch-which is actually something I've always been able to respect about you. But you're right."

Buffy smiled a victorious smile. "And you know, right now I don't even care about the whole eventual humanity thing. Just give me back my husband, and we'll do the Powers' fighting for them. That's the deal."

"Whoa," said Lilah. "Hold on. Do I understand this right? You're giving up the humanity we bestowed? For Spike?"

"Yup."

"Aw." Lilah smiled. "That's actually really sweet. But there's something you should know first. If you do this, you'll be in breach of contract. You and Spike. The Senior Partners won't let that stand without retribution."

"Lilah," said Buffy, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "if the Senior Partners want a piece of me, you tell them to come and get it."

"I will." She shut her briefcase and latched it. Looking at Buffy, she grinned. "Now things should get really interesting." And just like that, she was gone.

"So do we have a deal?" Buffy asked.

Cordelia folded her arms. "You realize you're blackmailing the Powers That Be."

"Yeah. I figure that gives me moxie."

"Oh, sure." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Because you were in such short supply of that before."

Buffy shrugged. "So what are they gonna do about it?"

"Give in. On one condition."

"What's that?"

"This is it. You don't get to be brought back from the dead again, no matter who's doing the conjuring. Neither does Spike. One of you gets killed, or loses your soul, or gets sucked into hell or whatever, whoever's left just has to deal with it like every other person on the planet."

Loses your soul? Buffy frowned. "So we'll still be cursed."

Cordy raised an eyebrow. "Would that make you change your mind?"

"No."

She waved a hand. "You're not cursed. If the Senior Partners hadn't already lifted it, we were going to."

Buffy nodded. "Thanks, Cordy."

"Don't thank me. I'm just messenger girl." Then she was gone, too.

Alone on the roof, Buffy waited. She didn't know how long it would take, but she wasn't leaving until she got what she came for.

She didn't wait long.

The wind began to pick up, stirring her hair, lifting it off her shoulders, gently at first, and then whipping it all about her head. Her lungs burned. It grew harder to breathe. She wondered if this was what an asthma attack felt like, and then she collapsed to the ground with her dying breath, her heart coming to a stop. The wind kept blowing, picking up debris, dust. The dust began to coalesce in the center of the whirlwind, forming bone, then muscle, then skin, and finally, white hair and black clothing. Spike fell to his knees as the wind died.

"Bloody..." He looked around, wild-eyed and confused, until he saw her. "Buffy?" He struggled to his feet. "What... what's happening?"

Calmly, Buffy pushed herself up and walked to him. "Spike," she croaked, her voice cracking under the weight of about a million emotions. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to throw her arms around him and never let go.

So she punched him.

Spike skidded across the rooftop and banged into an air duct. "Ow!" He sat up, rubbing his jaw. "What the bleeding hell was that fo--you're still a vampire."

"And you're still a dope."

"No." He shook his head and got up. "That's not right. That's not how it's supposed to be." He looked up at the sky and screamed, "We had a bargain! You were supposed to make her alive!"

"Spike," she said, walking over and reaching for him. "Look at me."

"They were supposed to fix you."

"Fix me? How? By making me a widow? How could you possibly think that would fix anything?"

"You would've been human."

"I've been human. It's not all it's cracked up to be. Especially not without you." Buffy stood back and wiped her hands over her face. "God, I'm so furious. If I didn't just go to so much trouble to get you back I'd kill you myself!"

He was looking at the floor, the sky, anywhere but at her. "I just want you to be happy, Pet."

"So, what? Was my having a heartbeat supposed to erase the fact that my husband was gone? Or that I murdered hundreds of people and I'm also responsible for all the people they kill?"

"Well, when you put it that way." He put his hands in his pockets and gave a sheepish shrug. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

She held up his wedding ring. He reached for it, but she snatched it back. "Do you know what this is, Spike? It's a promise. It's supposed to mean that you'll always be there."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

"Then why? Why did you leave?" Her voice broke. Buffy covered her mouth and tried to compose herself. "What does it take, Spike? How can I convince you that I love you like you love me?"

"Buffy, that's not...." He sighed. "I see you, sweetheart. How unhappy you are. I'm not talking about the guilt, or the curse... you hate being a vampire. It makes you miserable."

"I can deal with that."

"You shouldn't have to!" He raked a hand through his hair, then turned to stare out at the skyline. "We had it good, y'know? Before, I mean. Before... before I let them take you away."

"Spike, you didn't let them-"

"I did. Should've held on tighter, fought harder..." He sniffed. "I should've come with you."

"Honey, no." She reached up to stroke his hair.

He sniffed again. "I'm sorry, Baby. S'all my fault, you being like this." He smiled, somehow, and barked out a laugh. "Thing is, before that, you were gonna get to have it all. The kids, the picket fence... I saw that, too. How happy it made you." He shook his head. "Thought I found a way to give it all back to you."

She fisted her fingers in his hair and forced him to look at her. "You dumbass. What made me so happy was getting to have those things with you." She let go of his hair and caressed his face. "Spike, right after we got our souls back, I wanted to die. But I kept going because you said you couldn't do it without me. That if I went into the sun, you'd follow me." Her face screwed up as her tears forced their way out. "So I kept going. But I can't do it without you. What made you think that I wouldn't follow you?"

"Buffy..."

"Don't you leave me!"

"I won't." He pulled her to him, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Never again, Love. I swear it."

She buried her face against his neck, and for that moment was just happy to have him there, solid and real. When she stopped crying she let him go and grabbed his left hand. As she slid the ring on his finger she told him, "If you ever take this off I'll beat you senseless. And I swear to God, if you ever get yourself killed again on my behalf, I'll defy the Powers That Be and bring you back just so I can kill you myself." She pressed her lips to his finger and kissed it. When she looked back up, he was chuckling. "What?"

He smirked. "Other people have marriage vows. We have marriage threats."

In spite of everything, Buffy smiled. "And don't think I don't mean it."

"Oh, I know better." He pulled her close again, kissed her temple. For a while they just held each other. "So," he asked after the silence stretched too long to be companionable, "how'd you do it? Get me back, I mean?"

"I got us a better deal."

"Yeh?" He looked down at her. "What's that?"

"Long story. I'll tell you later. Except you should probably know that Wolfram and Hart will be gunning for us."

"So back to status quo, then."

"Pretty much."

He buried his nose in her hair. "And the curse?"

She looked up at him, surprised. She'd forgotten. For the first time in way too long, she let a certain playful glint show in her eyes. "What curse?"

A slow smile spread across Spike's lips. "What say we go home?"

Buffy rose up on her toes and kissed him like a prison wife who just got her first conjugal visit. "That's the smartest thing you've said all night," she said, taking his hand to lead him home.

***

She slept with a smile on her face. That was a sight to behold, and one he hadn't seen in too bloody long. It physically pained him to pull away from her, but he needed to move. Something about getting dusted and put back together again tended to leave a bloke restless.

Spike pulled on his jeans and padded out into the living room. He lit a smoke and surveyed the boxes still stacked around the room. They never had gotten around to unpacking all their stuff. He'd take care of it tonight, he decided. After all, they weren't going anywhere. Not for a long time.

Quietly, so's not to wake his girls, he went through the boxes. Pulled out books, CDs, videos. Found places for everything. Opened another box, reached in blindly, and pulled out a leather bound journal. Turned it over in his hands, then opened it up. He flipped on a lamp next to the sofa and read:

I know what Wesley's doing, leaving me in charge of recording the final Apocalypse. He's trying to distract me. Maybe hoping this'll be therapeutic or something. But I'm thinking I just told you as much about that battle as you really need to know. I've got pages and pages of acid free paper left for recording my progress, taking notes. I'm going to keep looking. Because there has to be a way. There's always a way, if you look hard enough.

I'm going to get her back.

Spike traced a finger over the words. Felt like he'd written them a lifetime ago. Looking back, he could see how obsessed he'd been, and how dangerous that obsession had turned out to be. He sat on the sofa and rummaged through a drawer on the end table for a pen. Then he sat back, propped a knee up to support the journal, and wrote:

And I did. And it was bloody fucking worth it.

The end.

~*~
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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground