The Cost of Butterfly Kisses

[lit_gal]

The  Cost of Butterfly Kisses, Part 47
Fandom/Pairing: BtVS, Spike/Xander
Rated: ADULT

STOP!!!!
This is the second post of the day and the climax of the piece.  if you don't know about the oracle, go back and read chapter 46

( Chapter One... )  ( Chapter Two... ) ( Chapter 14 . )



"Are you sure?" Angel asked again.

Spike whirled around, fury making him see the world through the slightly yellow tint of a demon's eyes. "Ask again, and I'll bloody sacrifice you as the warm up act, mate."

"Hey, just calm down," Buffy said, darting between them.

"I'm not entirely sure…" Wesley started saying. "I could reopen the portal," Jonathan offered at the same time.

"Enough," Buffy shouted over all of them. "Angel, just go."

Angel's spine went stiff and his mouth turned into a hard line.

"Seriously, Angel, this isn't your fight. You fixed your unbalanced half of the universe, and now we have to fix ours." Buffy glanced over at Jonathan. "Thanks for lending us an oracle opener, but Spike and I need to talk."

"About this plan of yours?" Angel demanded.

"About reality. Seriously, Angel, leave." Buffy walked to him and looked up into his eyes. "Please, Angel. We have different lives, and you just don't fit back into my life anymore. I'm sorry."

Angel looked down, and Spike tried very hard to bite his tongue because he knew how it would tear him up if she sent him away. For a long time, they stared at each other, and then Angel nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a second before he looked over toward Jonathan and Wesley. "Let's go."

"But Angel," Wesley started to say. Angel shook his head. "Not now, Wes. We can talk in the car."

Spike stepped to the side and let them pass. "We should talk to the witches," Spike said the second the front door clicked shut behind Jonathan. This was too big of a decision for them to make alone.

"Did you know in 1211 the slayer at the time closed the Antioch hellmouth altogether by sacrificing her life on top of the seal? She traded herself to a demon who was going to use children to open the seal. The kids all got out of there, and apparently the demon thought the slayer blood would supersize the spell. The surprise was on him." She gave a crooked grin.

"1211?"

"Hey, I can research. I hate research, but I can do it when I have to," Buffy said.

"You've been planning this for a while."

Buffy nodded. "I have. I just didn't think-"

"That the universe would want me to sacrifice my love?" Spike asked. He reached in his pocket for a cigarette. "You should say goodbye to the others."

"I can't, Spike. They'll try to find another way, and I'm tired of them all putting their lives on the line when this is my fight. I've put them in danger long enough."

"They bloody deserve-"

"To not have to live with the guilt and the fear that they could have stopped me if they only knew the right words. Do you want Xander to live with that for the rest of his life?" Buffy demanded.

Spike's hands were shaking as he tried to light his cigarette. He'd been willing to sacrifice himself, but this… this was harder. "He'll forgive you," Buffy said softly.

Spike gave her a wry smile. "Thanks for offering the comforting lie, ducks, but he really won't. He loves you. Fucking hell, I remember how he tore himself up about killing Warren, so if we do this, I'll be losing two people I love."

Buffy didn't answer, but her hand reached out for his. He hated that she could feel him tremble, but he didn't argue as she intertwined their fingers. "I left Dawn a letter, explaining why I had to do this, explaining that the spell took me off my path, and I had to get back on it, even if it killed me that I wasn't going to be here to give her a hard time. I also might have threatened to haunt Halvard if he ever hurt her."

Spike snorted. He'd offer to make that threat in person, but Dawn would probably stake him next time she saw him. Hell, she'd been ready to stake him for hurting Buffy before he'd had a soul that allowed him to even understand what he'd done. If he did this, he did it knowing just how much pain he was causing.

"I left letters for the others, too. Even you. I guess that one isn't really important now."

Spike wanted to make a joke, to pretend that none of this was happening, but he just couldn't. He just held her hand.

"I feel guilty about what happened between us, you know."

"Wasn't your fault," Spike hurried to say.

"It wasn't only my fault, but partially my fault? Sure it was. I guess… I just wasn't ready to look at myself or at my life, and you were sort of my drug of choice. It wasn't fair to either of us."

"I never minded helping you through. Don't pretend it didn't help you," Spike begged her. He had to know that he had done something right for her.

"It did help. I thought I was ready to stand on my own, but I just wasn't grown up enough to see I wasn't grown up. I see you with Xander, and maybe now I can see how much wasn't right between us." She squeezed his hand and Spike stood with his cigarette in his other hand, not sure what to do with the ash. It seemed a mite impolite to go burning holes in the neighbor's carpet. Spike knew he was trying to distract himself from the horror staring him in the face, but he needed to do something.

"I have a theory," Buffy said softly. "I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I'm going to turn out to be." Her voice got softer. "Who I might have been. But you can't blame cookie dough for being doughish and you can't blame other people for seeing cooking dough and thinking that it's good to eat because lots of people like to eat-" Buffy stopped. "I really should have chosen another analogy.

"You're psychologically traumatizing me with cookie dough," Spike agreed in a pathetic attempted to get her to smile. It didn't work.

"This is going to work because there is love between us," Buffy said. "You're going to make it through this, and so is Xander… and Willow and Tara… and Dawn and Bonnie. You're all going to make it through."

"But you aren't," Spike said.

"I had two years that I never should have had. I had two years to watch Dawn grow into a young woman that terrifies me and to meet Xander's daughter and to see Willow learn to have a slightly healthier relationship with Tara. I had two years to get to know the real you." Buffy reached up and stroked her fingers along Spike's jaw. "It's worth it."

Spike clenched his teeth to keep from spewing out all the fury and pain that he could feel growing in his chest.

"So, we need to get to the hellmouth."

"Now?"

Buffy looked up at him with such sadness that Spike's soul felt like a weight crushing his chest.

"Right then," Spike said with as much bravado as he could. If he couldn't talk her out of this, the least he could do was make it less painful. He stood looking at her, waiting for her to make her final choice.

"Showtime," she said gently and she turned and used her hold of Spike's hand to tug him toward the front door.

Outside, the night was unnaturally dark and Spike could hear scuffling in the shadows, but nothing stopped them as they walked empty streets hand in hand. Spike remembered the first time he'd come to town with Drusilla in tow. He'd been so sure he could take the hellmouth and hold it for his princess, despite the fact he'd never held a territory. Dru liked moving, so he'd moved. If he could go back to that version of himself, a demon unburdened by soul or guilt or pain, he wondered what he'd say. Would that version of himself even believe how much it hurt to hold a slayer's hand and walk down the street toward her death? Could that version understand how much Spike already grieved for Buffy and for the loss of Xander's love? Probably not.

The school was a hulking dragon in the night, a huge shadow with one wing that was really the auditorium that rose above the squat body. Like the rest of the town, it was absolutely dark, but Buffy led them surely through unlocked doors and empty corridors. Spike could feel the frisson of fear that ran down his spine when he caught the first scent of pure evil rising from the basement.

Buffy didn't hesitate as she led them down the stairs and into the room where the seal of hell lay under a foot of dirt. She stopped just inside the door and looked around. "Well, this is it."

"We don't have to do this here," Spike said as he considered the dirt and the spiders and the endless stink of evil. This wasn't a proper place for Buffy to lay down her life. Spike blinked as his emotions threatened to slip free of the tight reins he was trying to keep hold of.

"Yes, Spike, we do. If this works, then something should happen. This is the battlefield. It's the right place for me."

Spike clenched his jaw as he tried to avoid screaming a dozen curses. "You shouldn't be alone," Spike said slowly. If not Dawn, then Xander or Red should be here.

Buffy stepped close. "I'm not." She rested her palm on Spike's chest, right over where his unbeating heart felt like it was getting squeezed into a space half the size it needed. Spike hadn't ever realized that grief could cause such intense physical pain.

One of Spike's tears slipped loose, and he took a deep breath in his struggle for control.

"Spike." Buffy stopped and then she looked away, her eyes scanning the ground where the hellmouth was buried under that great seal. "I know in my heart I'm right. And hey, I understand if you don't believe me because I'm not exactly the great leader. I tried to be, but 'tried' would be the significant word there." Her grief and her belief in her own failure clung to her like a cloak.

Spike shook his head and reached out to gently cup her cheek and pull her gaze back to him. "You listen to me. I've been alive a bit longer than you, and dead a lot longer than that. I've seen things you couldn't imagine, and done things I prefer you didn't. I don't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain. So I make a lot of mistakes, a lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred plus years, and there are very few things I've ever been sure of," Spike looked into her eyes, willing her to believe him. "One of them is you."

Buffy's breath caught in her chest. She blinked and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't-" She stopped and struggled with herself for a moment, and Spike ached for her. He wanted so much to say the right thing, but he didn't know what that was. "I haven't been the best person since coming back. I feel so much, and I can't-." She reached up and stroked Spike's cheek. "I love you."

Spike looked into her eyes. There was some part of her that believed that-that felt that-but it wasn't the sort of love that Spike needed. It wasn't the all-consuming love he felt for her. It wasn't the sort of love that made her want to give up the whole bloody world. Maybe he was selfish, but that was the love Spike wanted. And after he did this, he doubted he'd ever have it again. Xander loved Buffy as much as Spike-more maybe. He'd never forgive Spike for doing this. Maybe that would be sacrifice enough for the universe. Spike was killing one love and giving up another. More tears slipped free as he thought of losing not only the two loves of his life, but of losing Bonnie and Dawn, too. They'd never forgive him. Never. And they shouldn't. If he was smart enough, he'd find another way. Only he couldn't.

Reaching up, Spike caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm. "I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy."

Buffy's eyes were red and swollen, but she didn't cry as she gave him a nod. "I remember telling Dawn that living is harder than dying." She looked down, and Spike understood. Buffy knew what Spike was giving up, what he would live with for the rest of eternity. He'd dealt in death-delivered women and children to reaper, and he felt every one. But only his mother's death had the power to destroy him because he'd loved her. With all his soul and all his demon, he'd loved his mum, and now he was doing it again-killing the woman he loved.

"It'll be fine, luv," Spike lied.

She looked up at him. "No, it won't. But thanks for trying to lie to me. Spike, I'm so sorry. I could have Angel-"

"No," Spike cut her off. "If this is the sacrifice the universe wants, I'll bloody give it." Spike was willing to die to save Xander and Bonnie, so he couldn't balk at this.

"Not really the way I had this planned. But I think this time, it's your move."

Spike nodded and wrapped his arms around her, desperate to feel her warmth and her strength one more time.

"It's peaceful on the other side," Buffy whispered, still trying to reassure him. Spike didn't try to stop the tears that fell now. She couldn't see them. Spike reached up and brushed sun-blonde hair back from her shoulder, and she tilted her head to the side. He could smell her blood running just under her skin, and it sickened him. She was Buffy, the woman he loved, she was the champion and part of his family. She wasn't food, but the demon rose to the siren's call of blood.

"Thank you," Buffy whispered, and Spike's mouth opened in a silent scream of grief and pain. She'd given too much. Why did the universe demand her death? She leaned into him, and Spike forced himself to let fangs touch soft skin. For a second, he just stood, his fangs at her neck without breaking skin. Then, pushing aside all the pain that threatened to crush him, Spike slid his fangs in and started drinking.

Buffy gave a little gasp and then pressed closer, her arms going around his waist. Her blood was even richer than his first slayer, and Spike could feel the power making him light headed, but still he drank. The walls of the room began to glow just as Buffy's heart starting pounding rabbit-fast, the last trick of a dying body desperate for blood.

The glow intensified, and Spike opened his eyes. Every brick, every mote of dust in the air and speck of dirt seemed to glow. Spike took one long, last fatal drink and then pulled his fangs out, sliding back into his human visage as he slowly lowered Buffy to the ground. She was still clinging to life with the tenacity of a slayer, but she was dying. She tried to raise her hand, but she wasn't strong enough. Spike picked it up and held it.

"Thank you," she whispered again.

"I love you." Spike leaned down and gave her a caste kiss on the cheek as he watched the light slowly fading from her eyes. The school started to rumble, and Spike knelt next to Buffy, brushing the hair back from her face as he watched death claim her again. This third time was final, and the world had lost one of the greatest slayers-one of the greatest women-to ever walk it. And most people would never know her name or the sacrifice she'd made.

The first stone fell, and Spike just sat as dust rose from the shaking ground. Being buried alive would be a proper ending for him as well. Some old culture had done that-buried the loved ones alive so they could protect the dead in the next world. Part of Spike wanted to just lay down with her and go to the next world at her side, but he knew that he'd never go to the same place as someone like Buffy. That just wasn't his fate. Even so, he couldn't find the strength to move.

"Spike!" a voice called. He ignored it.

"The building is collapsing!"

That was so obvious that he didn't bother answering. A strong hand caught him under one arm and yanked him upright, and Spike snarled, finally recognizing Angel. A stone fell and caught Angel on the back, sending him to one knee, but with a snarl, Angel fought his way back up to his feet and grabbed Spike again.

"Just get the bloody hell out," Spike said, pulling to free his arm, but Buffy's blood had left him just a bit out of touch with his own body, and he lost his balance and went to one knee right next to her lifeless body. With a sob, he reached out and gently closed the eyes even as dust settled across her as if the earth was trying to bury its favorite daughter.

"Come on, you idiot," Angel said, pulling again, and Spike snarled as Angel pulled him away from the body. A beam cracked loudly and one end fell to the ground, spilling bricks and chunks of concrete into the room. Spike threw himself toward Buffy, unwilling to see her flesh and bones broken, but then he was flying the opposite direction, out the open door.

Spike hit the far wall and shook his head as he tried to figure out what was going on. He'd drunk so much slayer blood that he felt a bit like he had at Woodstock, unable to really get his bearings. Then Angel was there in front of him, grabbing his arms, and Spike snarled again.

"You'll thank me when you've sobered up," Angel said, and then a huge fist was heading for Spike's face. Normally, Spike would duck, but for the briefest moment, he was caught in a spell of wonder at the idea of someone punching him, and that was long enough for the fist to connect to his face. With the wall behind his head, there really wasn't anywhere for him to go, and the hard blow stunned him enough that when Angel picked him up and flung him over a shoulder, Spike couldn't protest. He couldn't do anything. He'd killed Buffy.