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Chapter 26
“What's wrong, Buff?” Willow asked. “Everything pretty much worked out. Spike's not dead, he's not evil, he's not crazy, and you still love each other. I thought you'd be . . . happier.”Buffy and Spike had spent the day together, and when Willow, Giles and Pilar arrived in the late afternoon, it was obvious that they had come to an accommodation. Willow figured they had worked through whatever baggage they had been carrying, because when they answered the door, they both fairly glowed with happiness. But now, Buffy seemed . . . melancholy.
Buffy reached for her hand. “Oh, I am, Willow. I'm very happy.”
“Then how come you don't look happy?”
“Missin' her mum, that's all,” Spike supplied.
Willow raised an eyebrow at the sound of the familiar accent. Spike didn't explain. The look on Buffy's face when he spoke in Will's normal voice was just too painful—a reminder of all they had both lost. It was better to resurrect Spike's speech patterns. Will was dead; he was a vampire now. Again. This was an inescapable factor in whatever relationship they would now forge.
“I understand,” said Pilar. “The bond with family—that cannot be severed, even by death. I can help you.”
“No zombies!”
Seeing Buffy's look of horror, Willow felt protective of Pilar and moved a step closer to her, but Pilar wasn't offended.
“No zombies—no, Buffy, nothing like that. Just a shade. A small portion of the soul's essence can appear for a brief time. There is no harm . . . no—perversion?—of natural forces.”
Buffy shot a look at Willow, who couldn't quite meet her eyes.
“Will—it's okay. Really. I understand why you brought me back. I do. And I know how you felt about Tara . . .”
Willow smiled. “It's okay to talk about Tara. Pilar and I talk about her often. And I am sorry that I ripped you out of heaven. I didn't think. I was doing a lot of the not thinking back then. But, I'm not sorry you're back!”
“You know what? Neither am I.”
“So, we're good then?”
“We're good. But getting back to the current topic—what exactly are we talking about?”
Pilar explained. “I ask the Orisha for a brief reunion on the spiritual level. You can see and talk with the shade for a little time. The purpose is spiritual healing . . . a closure. It is sometimes granted when the loved one that remains wishes to know that the other is happy . . . did not suffer . . . I do not know if I am explaining this correctly?”
Willow reassured her, “You're doing fine.”
Buffy glanced at Spike. He lifted an eyebrow.
“Up to you, love. Your decision.”
“There's no harm to the . . . shade? You're sure of that?” Buffy asked.
Both Willow and Pilar nodded.
“Okay. Um . . . what does this entail?”
“I will need a live, white chicken.”
Buffy's panicked glance sought Willow.
“It's okay,” Willow whispered. “It's no different really than a . . . kosher butcher, you know? It'll make a nice change from all our . . . beef.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, but nodded.
Willow and Pilar left to make their arrangements.
**********
“It is best to perform the supplication at twilight, when the walls between the worlds are thin,” Pilar advised.
Buffy was a bundle of nerves.
Spike slipped a comforting arm around her.
“ 's not too late to change your mind, love. If you don't want to do this, you just say the word.”
“I do want to, Spike. I'd give anything just to see her for a minute—to know that she's okay. I mean, I know that she's okay. But . . .”
His arm tightened.
“Shush, love. You're just feelin' unsure because of the' memory loss. You got your memories back, but you're not quite trustin' 'em yet. You just want to assure yourself that you remember your mum . . . correctly. You want her blessing.”
Buffy smiled up at him. “Yes. That's it exactly. You always did know me better than I knew myself.”
Spike tilted his head. “Because I love you—unconditionally.”
Buffy grew serious and looked searchingly into his eyes.
“I love you—unconditionally—too. I don't think I could have, before. See, I first met you as 'Spike—evil vampire who threatened to kill me and tried to kill my mother and all my friends'. With Angel, it was different. I first saw him as 'cute, sexy, cryptic guy'; I didn't know he was a vampire so I related to him as a person. When I discovered he was a vamp, it was a shock, but I could rationalize it as just one part of the totality of Angel.
“You never got that chance—I never gave you that chance. I wouldn't let myself see past the 'Spike is an evil, disgusting thing'. I saw Angel as a person who just happened to be a vampire—through no fault of his own—and that never changed. I saw you as a vampire trying to pretend to be a person; and that never really changed, either.
“Oh, I'd use you for whatever I needed—to take care of Dawn, to fight at my side, to make me feel . . . anything . . . to give your life to save the world—not for me, but just because it was the right thing to do. Yet, even then . . . Even when I learned you fought for your soul, to be a better man, when Angel's was forced on him as a punishment, I still . . .
“I'm sorry, Spike. I'm sorry that I was never able to give you the support and encouragement you needed, 'cause the choices you made? They were huge! You chose to get your soul and you knew what that would mean. You'd been around Angel long enough to guess what that would entail and you did it anyway. As long as he lived, Angelus would never, ever seek his soul. I get that now. Angelus never wanted to be Angel, and yet you did.”
“Hey! Take that back. I never wanted to be Angel, either!”
Buffy laughed and smacked him on the shoulder.
“Oh, and Will? Now that you and Angel are on equal footing, as it were; now that I got to know both of you as people first . . . Angel never would've stood a chance with me.”
Spike very nearly glowed with happiness. He felt . . . radiant.
Willow came in from the back yard.
“Pilar will call when she's ready for us.”
“What do you think I should do, Willow?”
“Whatever feels comfortable, Buff.”
**********
“Okay, it's time.”
Willow, Buffy, Spike and Giles stepped through the kitchen door onto the porch. Descending the four steps into the back yard, Buffy kept her eyes locked on Pilar. She was filled with equal parts of hope and trepidation.
“With all honor to Olodumare and the Orisha, I beseech you. The bond of love between mother and daughter can never be broken. The Slayer and her mother were apart at the time of transition. They were not able to say their final good-byes or express the love they felt for each other. There is a burden of guilt that if she had been there, the death could have been prevented. I beseech you, Elegba, who stands at the crossroads of this world and the world of the divine, open the doors of communication between this world and the Orisha. I beseech you, Orunmila, bring solace to a grieving soul as only you can.”
The sky had darkened to deep purple, but it was not yet night.
A glowing figure appeared. Buffy gasped. She remembered Dawn saying she had seen and talked to Joyce, but they never did figure out if that was really just The First. From the condition of the house afterwards, it could be inferred that that had been a terrifying experience. This felt peaceful and hopeful, underlined by the sadness of regret.
What does Mom regret? Buffy thought worriedly.
As the glowing figure became more substantial, Willow and Pilar gazed at each other in puzzlement.
A tall, strong black woman wearing a long, flowered dress and a green tignon wrapped around her head appeared.
“That's not Buffy's mother, is it?” Pilar whispered.
“Nope. Definitely not,” Willow answered.
“Well,” Pilar continued, “The Orisha always answer your request when it is brought to them in sincerity, to help others, with no thought of personal gain. How they answer it is up to them.”
The group looked at each other in confusion.
Buffy looked at the woman who was obviously not her mother. What had gone wrong? What had Pilar said? The bond between mother and daughter can never be broken. The slayer and her mother were apart at the time of transition . . . Pilar hadn't specified which slayer, and suddenly Buffy knew who the woman must be.
“Oh!” Buffy gasped, hurrying toward the glowing woman. She reached for the woman's hands. They felt warm and solid, although they were disconcertingly translucent.
Buffy gripped the hands firmly, but gently, and spoke quietly. “I think I can help you. You feel guilt, don't you? Guilt that you weren't there—that you were never permitted to be there. You're wondering if you did the right thing. You did. She was happy—she embraced her duty, much more than I ever did. She knew you loved her. She never resented your giving her up. She was strong and beautiful and she died protecting innocents.”
Buffy released one hand and gestured to Giles and Willow. “Both of them owe their lives to her. She was a hero. She never faltered, never questioned, never complained. You can be very proud of her.”
Buffy felt herself enfolded in warmth and love as the woman embraced her.
“T'ank you. You gave me my dotter back. You be welcome in my home. Any time.”
The woman faded and it was full dark.
Willow flicked her fingers and a ball of light illuminated the back yard.
“Any of you lot care to tell me what just happened?” Spike tilted his head and looked around the circle of faces.
Buffy laughed and hugged Pilar. “Your Orisha did a good thing!” She moved to Spike's side and tucked her hand through his arm. “The Orisha answered her request. It's true; the bonds of love can never be broken. I know my mom's fine—she's happy. I knew that all along. I was just looking for reassurance. But for Kendra's mom, it was different. She gave Kendra to her watcher as a baby, and spent all these years not knowing about her daughter's life or death or anything.”
“Kendra? The Slayer Dru killed?”
Buffy nodded and then smiled at Pilar. “You brought solace to a grieving soul, just as you said you would. Thank you.”
Buffy turned to go back inside. “Anyone up for hot cocoa?”
“With marshmallows?” Spike asked eagerly, taking her hand.
“Of course.”
The others followed them into the cottage.
“Spike? If we can ever tear ourselves away from this bitter cold and decide to go somewhere warm, how about Jamaica? I've already gotten an invitation . . .”
*****************************************************************************************
Epilogue
Lucien kissed the hilt of his sword and crossed himself before getting up from his knees. He felt a peacefulness inside that he had feared was gone forever. He was profoundly grateful that he had been given this chance to redeem himself, by performing a duty for which he was eminently suited.He walked across the bridge, pausing to gaze down into the Deeper Well. His loneliness was still there, but it no longer ate at him, causing him to lose sight of his purpose. He briefly sent a prayer of thanks to his God for keeping him from the sin he had nearly committed.
He had been very close to turning the bright, shining woman . . . Buffy. Her name was Buffy. And she was not meant to be his. She would never adjust to the half-life which he found so difficult, himself.
He had a purpose—a solemn duty—as Guardian of the Deeper Well. He was an acknowledged warrior of the Light. The Battlebrand. That should be enough for him. It would be committing the sin of Greed to ask for more.
Lucien's head came up as he heard sounds above him. His preternatural hearing detected someone approaching the entrance to the Deeper Well. He drew his sword and climbed the series of tree roots that acted as stairs to the entrance. He could have shifted form to come upon the intruder unaware, but he sensed no hostility—only a deep, abiding grief.
He opened the concealed door and saw a woman standing still and silent in the moonlight.
Lucien planted the point of his sword in the ground and waited. She looked at him with haunted ice-blue eyes.
“There is no longer a place for me in this world. There is nowhere I belong. I came from this place and perhaps should never have left.” She tossed her head and her blue-streaked hair settled over her shoulders. The moon shone full on her, highlighting her blue-shaded skin, pure blue eyes and strong, lithe body.
Lucien felt a sense of deep pity and compassion as he looked at her. He had never seen anyone so beautiful in all his 800 years of existence—or so lost.
“I am Illyria, former God-King. I was brought to this place and time only to discover it was no longer my place or my time. My kingdom is long gone and I can no longer hear the song of the green. The humans and the half-breeds whom I held in such contempt showed me that I did have a place here. They taught me the meaning of honor and friendship and . . . grief. I have learned much about grief in this world. I have known more grief than I could have ever conceived during my thousand-year reign.
“Now, they are gone, but the grief remains. It has not gone with them. And they continue to teach me about human emotion. From the grave they teach me—Wesley and Gunn and Spike and Angel. For I have now learned loneliness as well as grief. I had no where else to go, so I returned here—to the Deeper Well—from whence I came.”
Lucien held out a hand to her, palm up to show he carried no weapons. She stared at his outstretched hand and tilted her head, looking deeply into his soul. She placed her gloved hand over his.
"Welcome, Illyria. I am Lucien, Guardian of the Deeper Well. There will be a place for you here as long as you wish to stay.”
She considered his words. “You are not offering re-entombment in the Well?”
“No. I am offering a purpose. I am offering a calling as a Protector of this world. Perhaps we can work together to do our part to make a difference.”
Her hand appeared to shimmer and the glove disappeared. Illyria placed her bare hand in his.
“Your terms are acceptable.”
Lucien smiled and covered her hand with his other, automatically using the Templar sign of brotherhood.
Illyria tilted her head to the right and covered his hand with her other, as well.
What did this mean, that she completed the ritual hand clasp? Could it have been deliberate, or merely a random response?
Lucien looked forward to learning many things about the fascinating Illyria—and perhaps, being able to share himself. To have a comrade again—as he had not had for 800 long years—how wonderful that would be! And, interestingly, although she was the perfect comrade . . . she wasn't in the least brotherly.
Lucien waved his hand and opened the entrance through the tree.
“Welcome to my home . . . and perhaps, yours now, as well.”
The entrance sealed behind them. The tree was now just a tree, like any other.
The elderly man who had been quietly observing, smiled and turned to retrace his steps down the lane to his cottage. He'd not known until recently that the Deeper Well was right in his own back yard.
Of course it was! He had been drawn to settle in this area for a reason. As his young friend Willow would say—“Duh!”
He reached his cottage and looked up at the moon before turning in for the night. It shone brightly, bathing the night with radiance. Was it his poor eyesight, or was the light blue tonight? For a moment, his ancient eyes cleared and he was certain. The radiance that bathed this night was not the expected soft white—it was definitely a silvery ice-blue.
THE END
Author's Note:
Well, 'T-t-t-that's all, folks!' Buffy and Spike are themselves again, but with a chance to develop a healthy relationship this time around. The Scoobies have mended their fences and Willow has a girlfriend who—while not the 'soul-mate' that Tara had been—understands both her and magic better than Kennedy ever could. The guardianship of the Deeper Well, left empty by Drogyn's death, has been filled by an 800-year-old warrior-monk—with the possible help of a former God-King. And Bernie is back in his cottage in the Cotswolds, growing vegetable marrows until he is needed again by his circle of new friends.
It's been a long, strange journey—thank you for coming along with me.
spikeNdru
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