To Greet the Sunrise

It was the same beach Buffy remembered from before. Except that this time, it was night, and there wasn’t even the light of the moon to dance on the waves. And yet she could see around her, clearly enough to recognize the place, to see Spike sitting in the sand a few yards from her, facing the sea. She took a couple of steps toward him, and suddenly she wasn’t alone anymore. Cordelia was at her side, dressed in the same long, flowing white dress as before. She placed a hand on Buffy’s arm, stopping her.

“I didn’t know it would be this bad,” Cordelia said, and there was a twinge of remorse in her voice.

“But you knew it would be bad,” Buffy half questioned.

“Well, duh.”

Apparently, being a – what was Cordy exactly anyway? An angel? – whatever she was didn’t prevent her from doing such a mundane thing as rolling her eyes.

“He was beginning to feel guilt even before,” she added impatiently. “Of course I knew it would be worse with his soul back. But not this much worse. And yes, I am an angel. Kind of.”

Buffy frowned, crossing her arms defensively on her chest.

“You’re reading my mind!” she accused.

Again, eyes rolling.

“If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here now. So are you going to help me help him or just argue with me all night?”

Buffy’s eyes returned to the still figure that was Spike. He hadn’t moved at all, hadn’t given a clue that he had heard a word of their conversation.

“I don’t know how to help him,” Buffy whispered sadly, feeling deeply helpless.

“Your presence soothes him a little,” Cordy said softly, squeezing her arm gently. “That’s a start.”

Together, they approached him, and Buffy sat by his side, leaning against him. The only sign he gave that he was aware she was there was a quiet sigh.

“Hey love,” she murmured, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he replied just as quietly. “If I do nothing, if I think of nothing, it’s like they’re not there.”

“Oh, but they are,” Cordelia said from behind them.

There was a bright flash of light, and suddenly the ocean was gone, replaced by an immense crowd of people, all of them glaring at them, at Spike, most of them gesturing and talking, either in screams or whispers, although, somehow, she could hear nothing they were saying. Buffy frowned slightly, wondering what was going on, but Spike’s soft moan and the shudder that ran through him made her realize who all these people were. He had said earlier that she had no idea how many people he had killed, and at this instant she realized he had been right. Spike was shaking now, his eyes were blinking rapidly, traveling over the multitude in front of them. Buffy wrapped an arm around his shoulders and glared back at Cordelia.

“You’re supposed to help,” she hissed. “How is this making things better?”

“He needs to see,” Cordy said slowly. “And so do you.”

“See what?”

Still furious, Buffy let her gaze slide over the many faces, when a few familiar ones caught her eye.

“Hey! You didn’t kill Giles!” she protested. “Or Willow! Or Tara… Xander… Dawn… Why are they all here?”

“I hurt them. All of them,” he replied tonelessly. “Let Watcher be tortured. Kidnapped and scared Red and Xander. Hit Tara. Didn’t protect Nibblet. All hurt because of me. “

“Oh, no, you’re not playing that game,” Buffy growled. “All of them, they consider you a friend now. Friends hurt each other sometimes, and then they forgive. It just happens. If I had to remember all the times I hurt any of them I would quickly go insane.”

(Good choice of words there, Buffy.)

(Get out of my head, Cordy.)

“Make them disappear,” Buffy said out loud to Cordelia. “They don’t belong in there.”

“I can’t do that. Only Spike can.”

He flinched at the name, very slightly. Buffy placed a hand under his chin and gently turned his face toward her.

“Make them go away. You’ve saved them or helped them often enough not to feel bad about anything. They. Are. Your. Friends.”

His eyes flickered to the crowd, and then were back to her. She checked quickly, and was happy to see that the Scoobies were gone. But in their place stood four women, four sisters.

“God, Spike!” she sighed. “How many times do I have to say it…? I don’t belong in there. If not for you, I wouldn’t be alive today. And neither would Faith. So take the both of us out. Now.”

He opened his mouth, obviously to protest, but she glared at him, daring him not to comply.

“Bossy chit,” he said with the ghost of a smirk.

When Buffy looked again, her image and Faith’s had disappeared. The two other Slayers were there still. As Buffy’s eyes swept over them, the Chinese one gave a small bow, and the tall girl in a black duster flashed her a quick smile. And then they were both gone. Glancing at Spike, Buffy was sure he hadn’t made them disappear, because he seemed as puzzled as she felt.

(Cordy… did you do that?)

(No, I didn’t. And neither did he. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not complaining though.)

Once more, Buffy’s gaze traveled over the assembled crowd. No one else she could recognize there. Except… No, she wouldn’t say a word about her. She didn’t have the right to tell Spike what to think, or feel, about Drusilla.

“Would you two look this way, please?”

In the same movement, Buffy and Spike turned toward the… the angel, might as well call her what she was. On the sand behind them was another group of people. Much smaller and far less grim than the one in the ocean. The Scoobies were there. Angel, Steven, Buffy, Faith. And a bunch of other people, some of them children, that Buffy had never seen.

“The others are the people you killed or hurt,” Cordelia said to Spike, almost lecturing. “Or rather, they are the people you think you hurt. As Buffy showed you, some of them don’t belong there. These people here are the ones you helped. Some of them you saved, like Faith or Buffy. Others, you just helped. In various ways. Proving to someone they aren’t a demon as they feared. Saving someone else’s marriage. Helping a kid and his father find each other, and let me tell you I had given up hope on those two, they’re just as stubborn… OK, not the point here. The point is you didn’t just do bad things in your life. Or unlife. You did good things too. And you started doing them before you had your soul back, which is even more laudable. You’ve been on the good team for a while, Spike. You’ve been making up for your past, slowly but surely, and…”

“I hunted,” he interrupted her abruptly. “Scared people. Bit them. Just a few weeks ago, I did.”

Cordelia let out a small irritated sigh, and gave Buffy a reproachful glare.

“Yes you did. And the families of those people are in front of you. You helped them; even if someone else we won’t name convinced you it was wrong.”

Buffy felt her cheeks burn suddenly, and had to bite back an angry comment.

“Your methods aren’t the ones traditionally used by our side,” Cordy continued. “But they work, and all the Powers care about is your intentions.”

A slight pause, for emphasis mostly, and she said, almost solemnly:

“Now you have a choice. You can keep wailing about your guilt and wallow in self-pity until your past kills you. Or you can live on to be a fighter for the light, and concentrate on the good you can do in the future. Which one will it be?”

As Cordelia talked, Buffy stopped looking at her, and watched Spike instead. Very slowly, his frown disappeared, and his features relaxed slightly, until all that was left on his face was timid hope.

“So I can really make up for…”

He gestured toward the ocean without looking at the people there. Cordelia and Buffy answered in the same breath.

“Yes.”

“That’s a lot to make up for,” he commented thoughtfully.

“Afraid of the challenge, Big Bad?”

For a second, his face closed, and Buffy cursed herself for the teasing name that had rolled so easily off her tongue. But then, he smirked at her, and she breathed more easily.

“I fear nothing, Slayer.”

Of course he was afraid. And afraid was a weak word to describe what he felt. But now there was a little light of hope shining for him. He wasn’t completely lost, after all. The girl had said so. She wouldn’t have lied. Deep inside, he knew she hadn’t lied. Spike was being offered a chance to atone for his mistakes. Not erase them, nothing could erase them. But do some good to compensate a little for the bad. To find the balance between William, who was good but too weak to do anything, and Spike, who had done so much and most of it bad.

“You’ll have to fight that battle alone,” Cordelia said after a short instant. “I can’t make the pain stop. All we did here was show you that your soul can be redeemed. It won’t silence the voices.”

Spike nodded slowly. “I understand. But I’m not alone.”

He glanced quickly at the smaller crowd, the one that proved he was worth something, then gave a warm smile to his Slayer. She covered his lips with hers in a tender kiss and when she pulled away everybody else had disappeared and they were alone on the beach again.

Cuddled against each other, they faced the ocean once more, the water coming close to their feet in quiet waves. The silence was comfortable. Too much had been said in too little time. Slowly, the horizon lightened, the black becoming first dark blue, then increasingly brighter until pinks and oranges were battling and melting together in a symphony of colors. At last the sun appeared, and to Spike it felt like the whole world was coming to life. Except… something was wrong with this picture.

“Luv? Since when does the sun rise in the west?”

Buffy laughed, a clear joyful laugh, the perfect music for a beautiful sight.

“It’s a dream,” she chuckled. “Who cares where it rises as long as it does?”

Then she kissed him again, and he truly couldn’t have cared less about the sun or dreams.

When Buffy woke, Spike’s arms were woven around her, his face resting on the pillow just beside hers. There was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, and she told herself she had never seen him sleep so peacefully. Afraid to disturb him, she remained perfectly still, letting only her eyes run over his features despite her need to touch him. She was impatient for him to wake, to see whether he would be as sane here as he had been in their dream. She was afraid too. Cordelia had warned him he would still hear the voices, and she could only hope he would be able to…

“Are you watching me?”

The quiet question interrupted her train of thoughts, and she couldn’t help grinning. Spike’s eyes were still closed, but his lips were curling up slightly.

“What makes you think I would?”

“Don’t know. I guess because I’ve watched you sleep so often.”

His eyes fluttered open, the pale blue tinted with just a little gray.

“’Morning Buffy,” he purred, pulling her closer.

“Good morning… William.”

A slight frown crossed his forehead, immediately wiped away.

“Sounds weird when you say it. I think I prefer Spike.”

She caressed his cheek lightly. “So you’re feeling better?”

“Better. Yes.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me again, would you?”

“I didn’t lie,” he pouted.

“Oh yes you did. You said you were OK and you weren’t.”

A mischievous light gleamed in his eyes, and she had no doubt he was much better than the day before.

“You can’t blame an insane man for not knowing what he says.”

So, his ramblings amused him, uh?

“I’ll show you insane,” she grumbled playfully, and launched herself at his ribs.

Before long, they were both giggling and panting, though neither was ready to admit defeat in the tickle war for quite a while.

Again, if anyone cares, the poem is actually a song, translated and slightly transformed by yours truly. 'Peur de rien blues' (Fearing nothing blues) by Jean-Jacques Goldman.