The Artifact: Chapter Twenty
Here it is, the end of the fic. I hope you have enjoyed. I hope it's not too rushed. I really did think I'd work on the darn thing more while posting it than I did... I even made the chapters short to spread it out and give myself time but... ah, slacking is as slacking does.
<-- Previous Chapter
Chapter One Here
Chapter Twenty: Redemption
Buffy saw something shiny on the littered crypt floor. She squatted to pick it up - a lighter. She felt the smooth metal turn in her palm.
“Buffy?”
Willow leaned in the door - it was jammed open, now. Too many kicks, Buffy guessed. Buffy waved.
Willow picked her way over the strewn trash. “Still no sign, huh?”
“He’s helpless, Willow. Anyone he runs into could just… use him.”
Willow bit her lip. “We could do the locator spell. Got a map?”
“You aren’t going to lecture me about how evil he is?”
Willow shrugged. “I’m guessing that wouldn’t change your mind.”
Buffy hugged her friend. “You guessed right.”
***
Angel was making great progress with Spike. With him obediently staying out of sight and silent, the rest of the gang had no idea he was even there, and having someone to order around helped with the sting of Wesley being in charge of the detective agency.
He had told himself he wouldn’t take advantage, but there was something so… willing in Spike’s motions. His lingering glances. And then, one morning, Spike had shifted - no, had PUSHED BACK against him and Angel’s control snapped like a thread.
He fucked him a bit hard, that first time, but that was partially frustration. Anyway, Spike had taken it well. He hadn’t even cried out, though his whole body shuddered and the smell of blood in the air was unmistakable. The bed had sounded horrible, squeaking and creaking and like it was about to shake apart, but Angel could hardly stand to slow down, much less stop. He’d had to pick Spike up by the hips and throw the both of them onto the floor. The impact had been sweet. He came so hard he couldn’t move for the longest time.
It was only later he worried what the others might have heard, if they were listening, or in the hotel. He was more careful the next time.
The power was intoxicating. Having this beautiful body, whenever he wanted it, however he wanted it. In the shower, leaning against the sink, “That’s it, baby, wiggle your ass for me.” On the floor, against the wall. He could lay back in bed and just have Spike ride him, slow and languid. He could really put on a show, hands running over himself, biting his lower lip.
Cordy asked him why he was spending so much time up in his room alone brooding. He made up excuses. “I’m reading a really good book.” Or “I’m taking some time off.”
“I’ve always enjoyed being alone. You know that.”
***
When Giles opened the magic shop the next morning, he was surprised to find Willow and Buffy already there, working a spell on the large table at the back. They looked up guiltily. He frowned. Candles, a folded out California map, a silver Zippo lighter and a gaudy gargoyle ring…
Giles sighed. “You’re looking for Spike.”
“That’s right.” Buffy lifted her chin.
Giles could see the fight before him, and it didn’t look at all easy. “You aren’t thinking clearly, Buffy. We’re in no danger. Glory is gone. Spike is not our problem anymore.”
“He wasn’t our problem. He was our ally. This isn’t about what we need, it’s about doing what’s right.”
Giles felt rather like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He felt like that a lot, lately, every moment that he got away with murder. Because it was what they needed. To be safe. It wasn’t right.
He was beginning to forgive Raskolnikov’s need to confess in “Crime and Punishment” - it had seemed over-the-top before he was in the same situation.
“We know he’s not in Sunnydale,” Willow said. “And we narrowed it down to Southern California.”
Giles sank into a chair. “I have given it some thought. We could construct a series of orders to allow him…”
“No,” Buffy said.
“No?”
“We’re undoing the spell. Scraping the talisman. It’s wrong, Giles. You can’t take someone’s will away from them.”
“But, Buffy, he is a vampire.”
“If he turns evil, I’ll stake him myself, but I’m willing to take the chance that he could become good.”
“It’s never been recorded to happen - a vampire redeeming himself without a soul.”
“So he’ll be the first. Or I’ll be wrong. It doesn’t stop it from being the right thing to do.”
Giles felt an ache leave his shoulders. It would be nice, for once, to do the right thing. He stood up. “Let me fetch you a more accurate map.”
***
Angel spent every minute he was out solving cases impatient to return to Spike. It was important to do good, of course it was, but now that Wes was handling the boring stuff, wow, he had free time and he was using it.
Spike gave him looks, sometimes, that Angel had to turn away from, because those piercing eyes obviously asked when he’d keep his promise to lift the speaking ban. Sometimes those eyes pleaded, begged, and he wanted to… but he was still nervous how the others would react.
Besides, Spike was so beautiful silent. Angel drew him with his sweet lips around the tip of his cock. It was a long, slow self-torture, in front of the room’s fireplace, the light flickering and over-warming them. Spike held still, perfectly still, as instructed, but now and then his tongue would move, a delicate swipe, or he’d swallow, just a bit, to keep from drooling, and the pleasure was sharp as a whiplash. Angel allowed himself a few gentle thrusts into that delicious mouth, but mostly he was being good, keeping to his work. This portrait would be a testimony to anticipation.
Cordy’s voice carried from downstairs, indignant and loud, “If SPIKE where here, I’d know it.”
Spike’s lips pressed slightly and he chuckled, deep in his throat. It felt wonderful, precisely as much as the icy stab in his gut didn’t.
“Stay there,” Angel said, and set down his pencil and drawing pad.
He looked back at Spike, kneeling by the fire, naked, his sweet little ass cupped by his pretty bare feet.
Then Angel zipped his flies and stepped into the hall, locking the room door behind himself.
“Cordy?”
“ANGEL get your brooding butt down here,” she responded.
That didn’t sound good.
Buffy stood in the middle of the lobby, arms crossed, looking murderous. “Where. Is. Spike.”
Giles was with her. GILES? In jeans and a grungy, rough-weave sweater, looking like he could cut glass with his frown.
Angel cleared his throat. “Uh… did he do something?”
Cordy gave him a look. “Did the evil vampire DO something? That’s your first question?”
“Spike is harmless,” Buffy said. “You both know that.”
“Our location spell was clear. He is inside this building,” Giles said. He held up a section of LA Street Atlas. “What the hell were you thinking, Angelus?”
Why did it have to be GILES? The man made him feel so guilty. Moreso than usual. Angel looked at his feet on the carpeted stairs. “He’s in my room.”
Cordy gasped. Buffy ran past him.
Angel hurried to beat her to his door. “Wait. I should… hold on, I’ll ask him and…”
And Buffy kicked down his door.
Spike was, of course, right where Angel had left him, naked in front of the fireplace, posed for his picture.
It didn’t look like such a pretty picture anymore.
Giles said, “Oh good lord!” in a very accusing tone behind Angel.
Buffy tore the coverlet off Angel’s bed and wrapped it around Spike. The way she looked at Spike… like she wasn’t even thinking of Angel enough to be angry at him… it hurt.
“I…” Angel began.
“Oh shut up,” Giles said, and they left, the three of them, without another word. Left him alone with Cordy, whose mouth was hanging open, and who crossed her arms under her breasts and arched an eyebrow expectantly.
Stupid epiphanies.
***
Buffy and Giles had come to rescue him. Again. This was getting to be a bad habit. Spike stared in disbelief as they bundled him into Giles’ tiny back seat. Buffy leaned between the front seats. “Do you… should be getting something from Angel’s room?”
Spike shook his head.
“I’d rather buy him a whole knew wardrobe,” Giles said, “Than go back in there.” He shifted the car into gear like he was punishing it.
Spike’s throat was sore, and he had to cough, to lube it up, as it were, before he could talk. “What are you going to do with me, then?”
Giles muttered something under his breath, but Spike didn’t hear it with Buffy’s hand on his, her wide hazel eyes on him. “We’re going to undo that spell, that curse, that thing. But you’re going to have to make a promise, Spike. A promise to be good. Can you do that?”
Spike laughed. He was the slayer of slayers! He had found the Gem of Amara! Did she really doubt he could complete any quest set before him? “For you… for my hero and my love, yeah, I can do anything.”
“And now I have diabetes,” Giles said.
Buffy’s gaze didn’t waver. “No, Spike. That’s not good enough. You have to do it for yourself.”
That did sound harder. It wasn’t the spell, however, compelling him to rise to the occasion. He felt like he could leap buildings just then. “Sure can, pet. I’ll make you right proud. And I’ll do it my way.”
And at that moment, as she pressed back between the seats to kiss him, and Giles complained and swore, he knew he was making a choice, and that was freedom itself.
THE END
<-- Previous Chapter
Chapter One Here
Chapter Twenty: Redemption
Buffy saw something shiny on the littered crypt floor. She squatted to pick it up - a lighter. She felt the smooth metal turn in her palm.
“Buffy?”
Willow leaned in the door - it was jammed open, now. Too many kicks, Buffy guessed. Buffy waved.
Willow picked her way over the strewn trash. “Still no sign, huh?”
“He’s helpless, Willow. Anyone he runs into could just… use him.”
Willow bit her lip. “We could do the locator spell. Got a map?”
“You aren’t going to lecture me about how evil he is?”
Willow shrugged. “I’m guessing that wouldn’t change your mind.”
Buffy hugged her friend. “You guessed right.”
***
Angel was making great progress with Spike. With him obediently staying out of sight and silent, the rest of the gang had no idea he was even there, and having someone to order around helped with the sting of Wesley being in charge of the detective agency.
He had told himself he wouldn’t take advantage, but there was something so… willing in Spike’s motions. His lingering glances. And then, one morning, Spike had shifted - no, had PUSHED BACK against him and Angel’s control snapped like a thread.
He fucked him a bit hard, that first time, but that was partially frustration. Anyway, Spike had taken it well. He hadn’t even cried out, though his whole body shuddered and the smell of blood in the air was unmistakable. The bed had sounded horrible, squeaking and creaking and like it was about to shake apart, but Angel could hardly stand to slow down, much less stop. He’d had to pick Spike up by the hips and throw the both of them onto the floor. The impact had been sweet. He came so hard he couldn’t move for the longest time.
It was only later he worried what the others might have heard, if they were listening, or in the hotel. He was more careful the next time.
The power was intoxicating. Having this beautiful body, whenever he wanted it, however he wanted it. In the shower, leaning against the sink, “That’s it, baby, wiggle your ass for me.” On the floor, against the wall. He could lay back in bed and just have Spike ride him, slow and languid. He could really put on a show, hands running over himself, biting his lower lip.
Cordy asked him why he was spending so much time up in his room alone brooding. He made up excuses. “I’m reading a really good book.” Or “I’m taking some time off.”
“I’ve always enjoyed being alone. You know that.”
***
When Giles opened the magic shop the next morning, he was surprised to find Willow and Buffy already there, working a spell on the large table at the back. They looked up guiltily. He frowned. Candles, a folded out California map, a silver Zippo lighter and a gaudy gargoyle ring…
Giles sighed. “You’re looking for Spike.”
“That’s right.” Buffy lifted her chin.
Giles could see the fight before him, and it didn’t look at all easy. “You aren’t thinking clearly, Buffy. We’re in no danger. Glory is gone. Spike is not our problem anymore.”
“He wasn’t our problem. He was our ally. This isn’t about what we need, it’s about doing what’s right.”
Giles felt rather like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He felt like that a lot, lately, every moment that he got away with murder. Because it was what they needed. To be safe. It wasn’t right.
He was beginning to forgive Raskolnikov’s need to confess in “Crime and Punishment” - it had seemed over-the-top before he was in the same situation.
“We know he’s not in Sunnydale,” Willow said. “And we narrowed it down to Southern California.”
Giles sank into a chair. “I have given it some thought. We could construct a series of orders to allow him…”
“No,” Buffy said.
“No?”
“We’re undoing the spell. Scraping the talisman. It’s wrong, Giles. You can’t take someone’s will away from them.”
“But, Buffy, he is a vampire.”
“If he turns evil, I’ll stake him myself, but I’m willing to take the chance that he could become good.”
“It’s never been recorded to happen - a vampire redeeming himself without a soul.”
“So he’ll be the first. Or I’ll be wrong. It doesn’t stop it from being the right thing to do.”
Giles felt an ache leave his shoulders. It would be nice, for once, to do the right thing. He stood up. “Let me fetch you a more accurate map.”
***
Angel spent every minute he was out solving cases impatient to return to Spike. It was important to do good, of course it was, but now that Wes was handling the boring stuff, wow, he had free time and he was using it.
Spike gave him looks, sometimes, that Angel had to turn away from, because those piercing eyes obviously asked when he’d keep his promise to lift the speaking ban. Sometimes those eyes pleaded, begged, and he wanted to… but he was still nervous how the others would react.
Besides, Spike was so beautiful silent. Angel drew him with his sweet lips around the tip of his cock. It was a long, slow self-torture, in front of the room’s fireplace, the light flickering and over-warming them. Spike held still, perfectly still, as instructed, but now and then his tongue would move, a delicate swipe, or he’d swallow, just a bit, to keep from drooling, and the pleasure was sharp as a whiplash. Angel allowed himself a few gentle thrusts into that delicious mouth, but mostly he was being good, keeping to his work. This portrait would be a testimony to anticipation.
Cordy’s voice carried from downstairs, indignant and loud, “If SPIKE where here, I’d know it.”
Spike’s lips pressed slightly and he chuckled, deep in his throat. It felt wonderful, precisely as much as the icy stab in his gut didn’t.
“Stay there,” Angel said, and set down his pencil and drawing pad.
He looked back at Spike, kneeling by the fire, naked, his sweet little ass cupped by his pretty bare feet.
Then Angel zipped his flies and stepped into the hall, locking the room door behind himself.
“Cordy?”
“ANGEL get your brooding butt down here,” she responded.
That didn’t sound good.
Buffy stood in the middle of the lobby, arms crossed, looking murderous. “Where. Is. Spike.”
Giles was with her. GILES? In jeans and a grungy, rough-weave sweater, looking like he could cut glass with his frown.
Angel cleared his throat. “Uh… did he do something?”
Cordy gave him a look. “Did the evil vampire DO something? That’s your first question?”
“Spike is harmless,” Buffy said. “You both know that.”
“Our location spell was clear. He is inside this building,” Giles said. He held up a section of LA Street Atlas. “What the hell were you thinking, Angelus?”
Why did it have to be GILES? The man made him feel so guilty. Moreso than usual. Angel looked at his feet on the carpeted stairs. “He’s in my room.”
Cordy gasped. Buffy ran past him.
Angel hurried to beat her to his door. “Wait. I should… hold on, I’ll ask him and…”
And Buffy kicked down his door.
Spike was, of course, right where Angel had left him, naked in front of the fireplace, posed for his picture.
It didn’t look like such a pretty picture anymore.
Giles said, “Oh good lord!” in a very accusing tone behind Angel.
Buffy tore the coverlet off Angel’s bed and wrapped it around Spike. The way she looked at Spike… like she wasn’t even thinking of Angel enough to be angry at him… it hurt.
“I…” Angel began.
“Oh shut up,” Giles said, and they left, the three of them, without another word. Left him alone with Cordy, whose mouth was hanging open, and who crossed her arms under her breasts and arched an eyebrow expectantly.
Stupid epiphanies.
***
Buffy and Giles had come to rescue him. Again. This was getting to be a bad habit. Spike stared in disbelief as they bundled him into Giles’ tiny back seat. Buffy leaned between the front seats. “Do you… should be getting something from Angel’s room?”
Spike shook his head.
“I’d rather buy him a whole knew wardrobe,” Giles said, “Than go back in there.” He shifted the car into gear like he was punishing it.
Spike’s throat was sore, and he had to cough, to lube it up, as it were, before he could talk. “What are you going to do with me, then?”
Giles muttered something under his breath, but Spike didn’t hear it with Buffy’s hand on his, her wide hazel eyes on him. “We’re going to undo that spell, that curse, that thing. But you’re going to have to make a promise, Spike. A promise to be good. Can you do that?”
Spike laughed. He was the slayer of slayers! He had found the Gem of Amara! Did she really doubt he could complete any quest set before him? “For you… for my hero and my love, yeah, I can do anything.”
“And now I have diabetes,” Giles said.
Buffy’s gaze didn’t waver. “No, Spike. That’s not good enough. You have to do it for yourself.”
That did sound harder. It wasn’t the spell, however, compelling him to rise to the occasion. He felt like he could leap buildings just then. “Sure can, pet. I’ll make you right proud. And I’ll do it my way.”
And at that moment, as she pressed back between the seats to kiss him, and Giles complained and swore, he knew he was making a choice, and that was freedom itself.
THE END