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Chapter 25
“Pilar seems nice.”Willow's eyes sparkled. “She's wonderful! And she really stepped up to the plate on this one! We haven't been together for that long, but she got dragged into the crazy world of the Scoobies and she didn't freak. She managed to hold her own and even come up with some good ideas. I think she might be the one, Buffy.”
“I'm really glad for you. You deserve some happiness.”
“Thanks. I think so, too. What about you? Do you want to talk about . . . Spike?”
“I don't know—there's just so much I have to get straight in my head. And I have no idea who he'll be when he wakes up. Will he remember Spike? I don't think Will did, and yet, there were certain things he said that Will couldn't possibly have known, and sometimes he'd sound like Spike. Is Spike inside Will like Buffy was inside Anne? And which Spike? Obsessed Stalker!Spike? Or Mom and Dawn's friend Spike? Wimpire!Spike, or Champion!Spike or Crazy Basement!Spike? Or . . . Will-with-Superpowers!Spike? I just don't know. I was always attracted to Spike, and I eventually came to love him, but I fell in love with Will. I guess I'll just have to wait and see?”
Willow thought for a moment before answering. “I think he will remember Spike. It's the same soul, after all. When he came back human, as Will, I think there was some forgetting mojo done to give him a fresh start. But, from what you've said, he did seem to remember some things. The soul that was released when Drusilla sired William back in the day was the same soul he fought for in the demon trials and the same one we'll be putting back tonight. So, yeah, I'm guessing that he'll remember everything. But, with Bernie's help, I think we can make the transition easier this time. So, probably no Crazy Basement!Spike, but I just don't know for sure, so you're right . . . we'll just have to wait and see.”
**********“It's almost time,” Bernard said quietly.
The sun was a flaming demi-sphere on the horizon and the sky was orange-pink, shading into rose. Giles stood looking out the kitchen window.
“Red sky at night; sailors' delight. Perhaps this is a good omen. I certainly hope so.”
“You seem disquieted, Rupert.”
“Yes . . . I believe I am, Bernard. I was just thinking of Spike. All of my previous training convinced me that a vampire is not a person. It may have the look and the memories of the person that was murdered, but the vampire is nothing more than a demon animating a corpse. I never questioned that belief. And then Buffy became . . . romantically involved with Angel—a vampire. When we discovered that he was souled, I was able to rationalize that the soul made him Angel. Without the soul, Angelus was a monster—a twisted psychopath of a demon. Angel was the exception that proved the rule.
“And then there was Spike . . .”
Willow and Pilar were setting up in the living room. Willow lit a series of chunky white candles. Pilar placed small ramekins of ground herbs near each one, to be sprinkled into the flames at the appropriate times. Deciding they were not needed immediately, Giles and Bernard stepped out on the back porch to enjoy the technicolor sunset painting the western sky. Giles continued to speak his thoughts aloud.
“Spike was always completely unique. I considered him an evil, soulless monster, but he was always more than that. Even when he first came to Sunnydale . . . he was undoubtedly 'evil', but the things he did were never evil for evil's sake. Everything he did was for the sole purpose of curing Drusilla. He was deeply in love with her. A soulless demon who shouldn't have been able to love—to feel any kind of affection—unquestionably did.
“Buffy and a group of young people were trapped in a cellar with Spike and his minions. Buffy knew she couldn't fight them all without unacceptable losses. Do you know what she did?”
Bernard was listening avidly. “She threatened Drusilla?”
“Precisely. She threatened Drusilla, and Spike immediately called off the whole massacre. With the strength of his personality, he controlled a half dozen vampires in a feeding frenzy, allowing the children to go free—in order to protect Drusilla! Several months later, he actually proposed a truce with the Slayer to stop Angelus from sucking the world into a hell dimension—a goal in which, one would think, demons would revel. Not Spike. Spike decided he liked this world, exactly as it was. He offered his help to Buffy—who, in all probability, could not have defeated Angelus, Spike and Drusilla together—with the proviso that he be allowed to take Drusilla and leave Sunnydale.”
“He sounds truly fascinating, Rupert. I'd be very interested in hearing more. Lydia Chalmers wrote her dissertation on him, but she didn't have any access to the kind of observations and insight you can provide. I'd love to join you for a pint or two and hear all of your recollections, if I may. But now, we have a job to do. It's time.”
The sun had disappeared below the horizon and the darkness was gathering. The two old friends went back inside the cottage.
A kitchen chair had been placed at the head of the couch for Bernard. A liter of the cow's blood had been decanted and warmed in the microwave. Buffy sat at the foot of the couch, ready to hold Spike down, if the need arose. Willow and Pilar stood behind the coffee table, on which were placed the lit candles, herbs and the Orb of Thesulah. Willow handed Giles a bell.
“Walk around the perimeter of the room ringing this when I tell you to, okay? Everybody ready?”
Bernard leaned over the arm of the sofa and placed his hands on either side of Spike's head. He nodded.
“Okay, Giles.”
He slowly walked around the room, ringing the bell with every step.
Willow briefly squeezed Pilar's hand and then began the invocation. She and Pilar alternated speaking, as Pilar put a pinch of the herbs into each candle before saying her part of the ritual.
“Te implor, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte. I implore you, do not ignore this request.”
“Elegba, guardian of the doors between this world and that of the Orisha, I beg you, open the doors! Oya, ruler of the dead, unbind the soul of this warrior.”
“Nici mort, nici de-al fiintei, Te invoc, spirit al trecerii. Reda trupului ce separa omul de animal! Neither dead, nor of the living, I invoke you, spirit of the passing. Return to the body what distinguishes Man from the beast!”
“Ochosi, protector of warriors and provider of direction to human life, I beseech you, give this warrior direction, return what was taken from him.”
“Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-i va transporta, sufletul la el. Let this Orb be the vessel that will carry his soul to him.”
“Orunmila, who encompasses wisdom and divination, who makes our destinies, hear my plea. Orunmila, who has access to the Table of Ifa, where the secrets of the Universe and of our lives are held, search out the soul of William Winter and read his destiny. This one does not deserve to be separated from his soul. He deserves to be a man, not a beast.”
The Orb began to glow with light. Bernard's hands tightened on Spike's head. Willow cupped the Orb in both her hands.
“Utrespur aceastui. Restore this one. Asa sa fie. So mote it be.”
Spike began to thrash. His forehead ridged and his fangs elongated. Bernard's eyes cleared to a warm, dark-chocolate color. Pictures flashed through Bernard's mind as he relived Spike's history with him. Bernard surrounded the confused soul with a calming white light. He assured the soul that the past was past; what mattered were the choices the souled being made from this point. Bernard sent out whispers of thought. Your history makes you the man your are; and that man can make a difference. Spike quieted. Bernard removed his hands and Spike opened his eyes. Buffy leaned forward. Spike saw her and the ridges of his face smoothed. He looked at her with pain-filled blue eyes.
“Buffy. I'm so sorry. I wanted . . . I wanted to be real for you.”
“Shush, Spike. It'll be all right. Shush.”
She reached for the container of blood and the others retired to the kitchen to give them a moment of privacy.
Bernard slipped out the back door. His eyes still clear brown, he searched the yard. He called to the owl in the denuded branches of the large oak.
“Lucien, if I might have a word? I have a proposition for you . . .”
**********
Spike rapidly finished the blood and put the container down.
“There's more if you need it.”
He shook his head. “Maybe later. Thank you . . . for this, for . . .”
“It was nothing. Well, no, not nothing. Apparently we had to buy half a cow to get it—”
“Didn't mean just th' blood.”
“I know. I was babbling. How do you feel? Do you need anything? How much do you remember?”
Spike stood and began to pace. Buffy thought it was strange to see that familiar action performed in a sweater and jeans without the swish of the long black coat.
“I'm sorry, Spike. You don't have to talk right now if you don't want to. You've been through a lot and . . .”
Spike went to the bookshelves and opened the liquor cabinet underneath. He poured a shot of whiskey and threw it back. He returned to the couch, bringing the bottle with him. He rolled the bottle between his hands as he replied.
“What do I remember? I remember everything!” His tone was bitter. “I got a second chance—a chance for a real life with you—and I soddin' well bollixed things up again. How the bloody hell do you think I feel?” He threw back another short of the whiskey, and this time there was regret in his voice. “I'm sorry, Buffy. I think . . . it felt like you were able to love me—to love Will—and I'm sorry that he's gone and I'm a monster again.”
“You're not a monster.”
“Yes, I am. I'm a vampire. Vampires are monsters. They make monster movies about them.”
Buffy started to giggle. “Ohmigod, Spike—you sound like Xander.”
His lips twitched. “Actually, Xander said that to me once. I was . . . paraphrasing. But that's not the point.”
“No, it's not. Did you love Anne?”
“With all my heart.”
“Then I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry Anne's gone—the normal girl you fell in love with. I'm sorry you're left with a complicated, occasionally bossy, sometimes self-righteous woman with a lot of uncomfortable history, a boatload of issues and a calling as a Vampire Slayer.”
“But that's . . . that's not the same thing at all. I loved you when you were Buffy; I loved you when you were Anne. I still love you now that you're Buffy again. You got your memories back, yeah, but I died, Buffy!”
“I died twice!”
“I died four times!”
“Got me there. Definite oneupmanship in the coming back from the dead sweepstakes. Do you think that's some kind of record? Maybe we should call the Guinness Book people.”
Willow poked her head into the living room. “Sorry to interrupt, but Bernie says he needs his box. Have you seen a thick Styrofoam box—sort of like a picnic cooler, but not quite as big? Hey, Spike, how are you doing?”
Buffy jumped to her feet. “I haven't seen it, but I'll help you look.”
Willow came into the room and touched Spike's shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“As well as can be expected. Thanks, Red, for whatever you did. Major improvement on the last time I got my soul back.”
“You're welcome. Pilar and I put your soul back, but it was Bernie that made you not crazy.”
“Is this it?” Buffy held up the sturdy box that had been used to transport the Orb.
“That's it. Thanks. I'll . . . um . . . leave you two alone, now.”
Buffy and Spike looked at each other.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she said, “but it can wait till tomorrow. You've been through a lot and I think you've had enough for one day.”
Spike nodded. He felt exhausted and still disoriented, but not as despairing as he had initially felt. At least he wasn't hallucinating and talking to dead people.
The whole crew came trooping into the living room.
“Sorry to bother you again. You know Giles, of course. Spike, this is Pilar. She helped me put your soul back—without Angel's curse—if you were wondering about that. You didn't actually get to meet her before because you were kinda . . . well . . . dead. And this is Bernie. He sort of got your soul settled in so . . . no insane in the basement this time around, although I'm not sure how much of that was the soul and how much was due to The First.”
Spike nodded his thanks to them both.
“Bernie says he has an important mission . . .”
Bernard went over to Spike and took his hand. “I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance and I look forward to speaking with you in the future, but Willow is correct. I do have a mission.”
He reached into an inner pocket of his tweed jacket and handed Willow a folded slip of paper. “If you will recite this, please, I would be very grateful. And I shall remain perfectly still this trip! It has been a great pleasure meeting you all and I hope to see you again in the future. I wish you the very best, Ms. Summers and Mr. Winter. Willow and Pilar, come visit me any time. There's nothing I would enjoy more. Rupert, my old friend, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Let's not lose touch again.”
Clutching his box—now completely filled with molecules of mist—to his chest, Bernard stood in the center of the rug.
“Ready when you are, friend Willow.”
Willow glanced at Althenea's spell and burst out laughing. She grinned at Bernie and read the spell.
“Beam me up, Scotty; there's no place like home.”
Bernard shimmered, became translucent and disappeared.
Buffy glanced at Spike. “You know what, guys? Maybe we should take off, too. Spike has a lot of stuff to adjust to and I think he could use some time alone.”
Spike nodded gratefully.
“There's blood in the fridge and food and stuff. We'll find a motel or something for the night and be back tomorrow, okay?”
Spike nodded again. Reaction was setting in and he was feeling rather overwhelmed.
There was a flurry of activity as everyone gathered their coats and their belongings.
Buffy paused beside the couch and waited until he looked up at her. She took his face in both her hands and leaned over to gently kiss him on the lips. “I love you, Spike.”
And then they were gone and he was alone. The quiet of the cottage was like a balm to the chaos in his mind and heart. He stepped out onto the back porch and took a now unnecessary breath, drawing the pristine Canadian air deeply into his lungs.
He scented her immediately. He slowly descended the steps to where she waited in the shadows.
“You've gone all away again, my Spike. No, not my Spike. Never again my Spike. The Angel Beast has gone away and Spike is in his place. There's nothing left for me.”
“Why, Dru? Why did you do it? I had a chance to live my life as a human and you took it away again.”
“But I thought it's what you wanted. I came to save you—to make you what you were. To make you . . . effulgent.”
They silently stared at each other for a long moment. Dru reached up and touched his lips with her forefinger.
“Goodbye . . . William.”
She melted into the shadows and was gone. Spike didn't think he would see her again.
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