The Last Cut is the Deepest

Chapter Nine

Faith returned alone to the living room a few minutes later, looking distinctly like she'd just survived a war.

Angel could hear Buffy crying, even through the so-called soundproofed walls, but hardened his heart against her wailing. She'd made her choices. If she was suffering for them, that was her problem. They had work to do now.

He kept telling himself that, and still... his heart crumbled at the sound of her broken sobs, and every ounce of his energy went to resisting the urge to go to her. To tell her he was sorry... that he didn't mean any of it. That he loved her, forever ...no matter what.

Only... right now, he wasn't sure that any of those things were true.

"Where's Buffy?" Willow asked.

The brunette gave Angel a pained look. "She's not feeling good. She says we should go on without her."

"Like Hell!" Spike shouted, getting up from his seat on the couch. "I'm not doing this without at least one person on my side!"

Everyone glanced uncomfortably at Angel, who kept his gaze nailed to the floor.

"We're all on your side," Willow assured him. "We're here to make sure you'll be okay."

"Speak for yourself," Xander muttered, and suddenly imagined Anya beside him, saying that she was more concerned that *she* be okay. He had one of his occasional sharp pangs of grief. He still missed her.

"Buffy's not coming, and that's the end of it," Faith barked. "So if you want to get this party started, let's stop screwing around and do it."

Spike turned to look down the hallway, poised as if to go down there himself. But then at the sharp looks of the others, he thought better of it, and arranged himself in the center of the circle instead.

Fred got up from her barstool and took Willow aside. "Maybe we should do the combined ritual I scripted. I don't think we should drag this out any longer than we have to. It'd be simple to combine the texts, and I'm sure the divining crystal will help magnify the truth spell enough so the Litmus won't be overwhelmed."

Willow gave her new colleague an admiring smile. "I like the way you think."

The elder woman blushed and cast her eyes down. "Well... I mean... it only makes sense. The sooner we get all this worked out, the easier it'll be for everyone."

The witch nodded and turned back to the others. "Okay, change in plan."

~

The gathered warriors sat in a circle holding hands, with the object of their ritual flat on his back at the center, surrounded by lit candles, crystals, and bunches of sage and rosemary.

Spike felt like the main course at some twisted cannibalistic dinner party. But... at least he didn't have to worry about catching his sleeve on fire and going up in a cloud of dust. All flames could do to him now was burn him beyond recognition and leave him scarred and in horrible agony for the rest of his life. Which, really, wasn't all that different from how he was feeling anyway.

"Arachne, Goddess of the web that binds us all, we call you. Show us the path your supplicant has walked. Guide us to his source. Sophia, Mother of Wisdom, we call you. Grant us the sight to see what cannot be seen. To understand the unknowable. Ma'at, Goddess of the Cosmic Scales, grant your humble servants a sign of what forces led to his coming. We beseech you, show us. Bind his tongue to tell only truth. All of the truth. Bring us the answers we seek, from your minds, from his mouth. As we will, so it must be."

A hush fell over the room, the air unnaturally silent but the the breathing of the present humans and the crackle and snap of candles.

And nothing else.

Spike cracked one eye open to focus on the witch beside him. No glowy business apparent. No funny magickal wind or tinkly fairy tunes. And he didn't feel any different at all.

Hm.

"I'm president of the United States," he declared, testing. "I'm the Queen of England. I'm a diplomat from the planet Zirk come to conquer your planet and eat all your azaleas."

A collective groan rose from the others.

"That should have worked!" Willow cried. "I felt the power build."

Spike blew out the closest candles and sat up. "Well, I can still lie just fine."

Fred frowned. "This doesn't make any sense. The readings were almost normal..."

Angel got up and walked away from the circle without comment, moving to the bar and pouring himself a drink, downing it, and immediately pouring another.

"Actually, it may," Giles offered. "It's possible that the chaotic energy patters we've seen over the past few months continue, and your instruments simply didn't measure them properly."

"Probably a good thing it didn't work, then," Xander commented, "Since NOBODY TOLD US THIS AHEAD OF TIME!"

"But the magicks have been more stable since Buffy and Angel..." Fred cut herself off. "I mean, since the vortex. The readings are still a little weird now and then, but nothing worse than you see before a big thunderstorm or an earthquake."

"Well, this was a waste of time. Looks like you get to keep your deep, dark secrets for now, Blondie of the Living Dead." Faith complained as she got up. "I'm outta here. Call me when you fix your mojo, Red."

"It's not my fault!" the Witch cried. "Everything went exactly the way it was supposed to!"

"Apparently not," Wesley corrected her. "Perhaps we should try the ritual in one of Fred's warded labs - the energies are artificially stabilized there."

The manager of Wolfram & Hart's R&D Division rose and laid a comforting hand on Willow's arm. "He's right - whatever's messing with the magickal matrices will be dampened by the wards in my labs. And...I've been wanting you to come see it anyway. Magicks in a controlled environment are really neat."

Willow's smile this time was soft with gratitude.

Giles nodded as he too rose. "Yes. That will give everyone an opportunity to get some rest. It's possible that... the chaotic emotional energies are interfering with the spell's intent, as well."

Angel caught the pointed glances in his direction, but ignored them.

"Good. We'll reconvene at Wolfram & Hart tomorrow night, then, shall we?" Wesley agreed.

As everyone went to leave, a bleary-eyed Buffy appeared, leaning heavily in the doorway, looking far worse for wear.

"Is it over?" she asked, her voice shaky, "Did you find out anything?"

Willow immediately went to her side. "Yes. And no. The spell didn't work. We're going to try again in one of Fred's labs tomorrow. Do you want to come home with us?"

Buffy looked across the room, where Spike had settled on the couch and turned on the big-screen TV, and Angel stood staring out the veranda windows, drinking and scowling at the night.

"I probably shouldn't," she told her friend, "I don't want to leave them here alone."

"It's fine, Pet," Spike called out, and held up the enormous boning knife he'd filched from the kitchen. "I'm covered."

Angel said nothing. He didn't even bother to turn around, breaking Buffy's heart all over again.

"Well... okay. If you're sure," Buffy voiced reluctantly, "Then... I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

Spike gave her a warm smile. "Thanks, luv."

She waited for another moment, but Angel still didn't acknowledge her presence or her impending departure. She nodded and followed the others out the front door, leaving the two men pointedly ignoring one another on opposite sides of the room.

When Spike heard the door shut, he clicked off the TV and turned to glare at Angel's back.

"We better talk, mate."

"I'm not your *mate*," Angel spat, "And we have nothing to say to one another."

"Oh yeah? Well, seems to me you've got a few things on your mind - or so my broken ribs suggest. And by the way, this is a Ginsu I've got here, so it should cut pretty quickly and clean through your thick neck, in case you got any notion to finish what you started earlier." He sat up further on the couch and reached for his beer. "You're a big, stupid bastard, you know that? Not that it should be news..."

Angel slowly turned to serve the blond a frigid glare, but Spike didn't back down. He owed Buffy this, even if it meant his gory death and/or dismemberment at the end.

"You got a lot of soddin' nerve, treating her the way you have been," he went on, "Punishing her for having a big heart. A lot of fucking nerve. `Specially when you're supposed to be the Big Love or whatthefuckever."

"I'm not explaining myself to you," the vampire hissed, "Or anyone."

"Good. That's the attitude. You're doing a Class A job at that cold-hearted jackass routine you got going. My old grandsire'd be proud. Who knew you could be such a thoughtless dickhead *with* a soul? Besides me, of course."

Angel held his growing temper in check - barely. "Shut your mouth. You're in no position to take any sort of moral high ground."

"Right this second? I figure I'm in Hell of a lot better position than you are. Buffy's doing her job - both your jobs - and you're treating her like something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe."

Angel came closer, pointing furiously at Buffy's ex-lover. "I said shut your mouth! You don't know the first thing about Buffy and I."

"No? Huh. Seems to me I know a Hell of a lot more than you think. She talks in her sleep, you know. And I don't think I can count the times she called me `Angel' when we were-"

The vampire charged him with a roar, and Spike barely had time to dive over the back of the couch and make a run for the kitchen.

"Come and get me, Angelus! Take your psychotic bastard bullshit out on me, not her!" he taunted.

A crackle of electricity exploded in the room, and the lights flickered, then went out, plunging the apartment into darkness.

"Oh, bugger me," Spike complained, instantly blinded. How the fuck was he going to run when he couldn't even see?

"I can see just fine," Angel growled... a split second before his enormous hand shot out and seized Spike by the throat. "Now I'm going to kill you, the way Buffy should have years ago, but never did because she was too soft-hearted and lost in your head games to do what had to be done. Then we'll all sleep a lot better."

"I told you before," the blond choked, "I got no problem with that. I deserve worse. You don't know the half of what I did to her."

"I know plenty. More than enough," Angel spat, prying the knife easily from his soon-to-be victim's loosening grip, and holding the point to Spike's jaw with enough force to draw blood. "I'm going to slice you open from gizzard to groin and pull out your organs one by one, slowly, so you can watch."

Spike gulped in involuntary fear, knowing full well the fucker could do exactly that. But before he could respond, a fierce tremor shook the building, knocking them both off their feet. Angel let go just enough so that Spike was able to knee him in the crotch and crawl away. There was barely a moment's pause before another, harder quake hit.

"Aw, for Chrissake!" Spike bellowed above the bedlam, "I don't wanna die in some stupid earthquake! I want Angelus to fillet me!"

He slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. What the fuck was that about? Then it hit him - Red's spell. On a really bloody long delay. "Wonderful. Just soddin' great. Perfect time for therapy," he mumbled to himself.

"Happy to oblige that request, William..." Angel called out of the darkness. "I'm going to make you pay for every moment Buffy hurt because of you. For every second of our lives together you've stolen from us. And for stealing MY DESTINY!"

Spike's head snapped up. "Your what? Are you off your nut? Never mind." He kept moving, feeling along the wall beside him, trying to find the front door as the trembling went on. "I didn't steal anything from you, ya stupid ponce! I don't know what you're actin' like such a bloody martyr for anyway! You're the one she loves! You always bloody well have been! I just happened to be handy. One vamp's as good as the next in the sack, I suppose. Although skills- wise..."

"You took advantage of her when she was vulnerable," Angel snarled, stalking Spike in the stygian black as if the world wasn't collapsing around them. Angelus always did like natural disasters. "Somehow you twisted her around until she believed she loved you. It's my fault for leaving her the way I did... but I'm going to make you hurt for that, too."

Ah, honesty. Spike's favorite soddin' state of being. Oh well, might as well make it work for him. "She never LOVED ME, YOU NUTTER ASSHOLE!" he shouted, "I was just a place-fucking-holder for YOU! Can't you get that through your thick goddamn boulder of a head? She cares about me, sure, but she cares about the fate of the bloody Whooping Crane, too. So what?"

The earthquake increased in intensity, and suddenly the room tilted, spilling Spike in a heap against the wall.

"I KNOW SHE LOVES YOU!" Angel raged above the din, "I CAN *SMELL* IT ON HER! AND THAT, MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE, IS WHY I'M GOING TO WATCH YOU *DIE*!"

He'd had about enough of this shit. "Good! Fine! I never wanted to come back in the first place, you bleedin' psycho! I done my bit to make the world a better place, and instead of a nice, peaceful eternal rest, I got -"

Before he could complete his thought, the building pitched in the opposite direction, flinging him full speed, head first toward the veranda windows and their spanking new view of the pavement a few hundred feet below.

"FUCK MEEEEEEE!" Spike screamed, and the world went black.

~

Buffy lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling emptier than she ever had in her life. And considering she had once cost Angel his soul, sent him to Hell, and got ripped out of Heaven by her friends, that was saying something.

How did everything go so wrong? How could she have been so stupid and selfish to just assume Angel would understand everything? Of course he was angry and disappointed in her. She'd never bothered to tell him anything about Spike, because it was just too hard for her to even think about - let alone discuss. Angel didn't know the context of what happened.didndidn't know all of the good things Spike had done. How he'd stood by her through some of the worst times in her life. All Angel knew was how Spike had hurt her.

Maybe it wouldn't have made any difference. Maybe the problem was that, now that Angel knew some of the details of her relationship with his grandchilde, it had finally sunk in that she'd been involved with someone who he considered one of his worst enemies. Maybe that knowledge was enough so that he didn't want her anymore. She was tainted in a way he couldn't handle. Spoiled. Untouchable.

She'd believed him when he said it didn't matter - that he loved her more, not less, for her mistakes. Of course, he'd promised her more than once that she would never lose him, either... and look how much those vows turned out to be worth.

"Fine," she sniffled stubbornly to Mr. Gordo, who'd been her confidante all night. The old stuffed pig was soaked with her tears. "Forget him. It's not like I haven't had to do it before."

But she hadn't, had she? Through all those years... through other lovers, even through death, Angel had always been a part of her - maybe the biggest part. When she was in Heaven, looking down on the world she'd died to save, it was always his life she lingered on the most. God, how it had hurt to see him so broken, so lost. Those months he spent in the monastery remembering, regretting, punishing himself. The weeks of nights he hadn't fed or done anything but laid on his pallet, alternately crying, raging at the Powers, or just staring blankly into space, watching his memories of her play over and over again, drowning in the what-ifs. If there had been any reason she might have wanted to come back, it was to ease his pain.

And while she was in that space between worlds, she had seen... everything about her lover. Experienced every moment of his reign of terror as Angelus. But even with all that horror, all that cruelty, all that death, her love for him never faded even for a moment. She forgave him all the things he could never forgive himself, because she knew... who he had become was as good as Angelus had been evil.

So why couldn't he find it in his heart to forgive her?

A soft knock pulled her from her morose reverie.

"Come in..."

Willow entered, the light in the hallway behind her casting her form in silhouette. The witch noted the weight of sorrow in the darkness, and took a moment to mutter an incantation to lighten it, as well as the shadows themselves, before she made her way in to sit beside Buffy on the bed.

She took her best friend's cold hand. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Buffy mumbled.

"Faith told me what happened. Or... sort of. Do you want to talk about it?"

Buffy sniffled and reached for a tissue. "I don't know what to say." She blew her nose loudly and then fell back on the pillows once more.

"What happened, Buffy? What did Angel say to you?"

The Slayer's tears once again began to fall. "He said... he blames me for... for forgiving Spike for what he did to me."

Willow sat up a little straighter in surprise. "That's not fair. I mean, I understand he's upset..."

"No. It's way worse than that, Will. He said he doesn't..." Buffy swallowed stiffly, trying not to totally break down again. "He said he can't respect me anymore. That the sight of me makes him sick."

The redhead closed her eyes in sympathetic pain, and more than a little anger on her best friend's behalf. "I'm sure he didn't mean it. He's just being a big jerk guy, like Xander said. Angel loves you. You know that."

Buffy shook her head and sat up, tucking her arms around her knees and huddling in a defensive ball. "He doesn't. How can he? And... I think maybe he's right."

"What? Buffy, no!" her friend cried. "What happened wasn't your fault! It's not fair of Angel to blame you, and it's not his place to decide whether or not you should forgive Spike!"

"Not the attack," the blonde corrected her, "I know that I didn't ask for that. No one does. And Spike didn't have a conscience, so I can't hold him responsible either. But the rest of it... that was my fault. The way I kept going to him, even when I knew how wrong it was. The way I used him. He never said no, but I should have known better. And then, after he got his soul back..."

She pressed her face between her knees and rode out the wave of pain and guilt that slammed into her before she went on. "I told everybody - including myself - that I kept him around because we needed him to fight the First. But... that was a lie. I didn't let him go because I was afraid to be alone. edededed someone beside me - or I thought I did. And... I felt like I *should* love him, you know? Or I should at least try to... learn to. Look at all the things he did for me - he went out and got a soul, suffered all that agony, because of what he did. He thought that was all that was missing between us. And he tried so hard to be what he thought I wanted... How could I not love someone who did so much for me? I should have let him go. I should have been honest and *made* him go. It would have been the best thing for both of us. But I hung on, and I kept second guessing myself and twisting my feelings because I thought I owed it to him!" she sobbed.

"Buffy..." Willow said, gently brushing her back.

The Slayer went on, "I know you can't make yourself love someone. I knew that from Riley. You don't make them stay with you in the hope that maybe someday, you will. I should have known. The fact that I had to try so hard, and I just couldn't tell Spike... that should have been all the proof I needed! That's just as bad as using him - treating him the way I did - when I knew he wanted more!"

She paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "Angel doesn't trust or respect me, because I didn't trust him... or respect myself."

Willow said nothing in response - what could she possibly say? These were things her closest friend had been holding inside herself for years. And whether Angel was being an insensitive jerk or not - and he *totally* was - he had at least finally gotten her to let some of her anguish go.

"I don't know what to do to make it right," Buffy mumbled sadly, "I don't know how to tell him so he'll listen. I don't even know why I should have to."

"You shouldn't," Willow reassured her. "You just need to give him some time to... think about all of this. It's hard, Buffy. He's missed so much in your life... he's freaking out from dealing with so much at once. When he realizes that, he'll understand. I know he will."

"What if he doesn't, Will? How can I stand to lose him again... especially like this? No." She slid to the edge of the bed and grabbed her sweatshirt off the floor, her newfound anger urging her out of her funk. "I'm going back over there. We're going to talk this out if I have to chain him up and hold a crosshis his face."

Her friend smiled at the return of Buffy's spirit. "That sounds like a..."

Before she got the chance to complete her thought, the apartment door crashed open, admitting an extremely agitated Xander and Dawn.

"Buffy, turn on the TV!" her sister cried.

Buffy snatched the remote off her nightstand and clicked it on to one of the local news channels. The terror they all beheld dropped a bomb of silence on the room.

Angel's apartment building stood in the background of the shot - tilted at an impossible angle - with the top four stories obscured by an enormous, all-too-familiar cloud of nothingness. The neighborhood surrounding it was engulfed in a raging storm.

"Oh my God..." Buffy gasped.

~