Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer > 'Til the End of the World
Title: 'Til the End of the World
Author: Lillian Morgan
Pairing(s): Spike/Angel, Spike/Buffy, Spike/Angel/Buffy, Spike & Dawn
Rating: R (mainly for language and sexual situations)
Setting: post-/Not Fade Away/, the beginning of 2005, London
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Joss and ME do.
A/N: Thanks to yourlibrarian for the wonderful beta job.
Each character narrates his or her part and these are separated by their own unique idioms, because it's all in the first person.
'Til the End of the World
Part Five
Rebell and Atheist too, why murmure I,/As though I felt the worst that love could doe?/Love may make me leave loving, or might trie/A deeper plague, to make her love mee too,/Which since she loves before, I'am loth to see;/Falshood is worse then hate; and that must bee,/If shee whom I love, should love mee.
"What poetry did you read, luv?"
"What?" She was still a little dizzy from coming down from those brave, brave heights. It had been a while, I suspected, not only because she hadn't done it for a few months, okay more than a few, but she also hadn't done it quite that many times in succession and quite so brilliantly. Or been done so brilliantly either, I'd wager. Two for the price of one - each learning new and intricate things about the other.
"You said, after I burned to a crisp in Sunnydale, you spent your Italian summers reading poetry," I repeated as I looked over her shoulder at Angel's newly dozing form. "What took your fancy?"
"Oh that." She shook her head, hoping to clear the fugue. "Um. Well, for starters that wasn't in Italy, that was in London with Giles. And second of all, Giles helped me for a bit. But then I googled some...."
"And?"
She smiled, sheepishly and twisted the sheet in my hands. "Wordsworth. I liked the one about the daffodils. And Keats. His life was very sad, wasn't it? And Byron, Manfred reminded me a little of you. So."
"They're some old blokes there. Tried Neruda or Yevtushencko?"
She shook her head. "I probably need a better teacher."
"Nah, pet, not a teacher."
"Huh?" And then she was off. "Oh god, I was trying to be all coy and charming and intriguing and wasn't there a poem about coy mistresses, and hang on didn't the woman die? And oh my god, don't you want to have me as your mistress, even though I don't do a good job of being coy and-"
"For God's sake, woman!" I nearly shouted, trying not to look scared but not really succeeding so I quickly donned some bluster. "Quit your blathering. What I meant was you don't need a teacher, because you're no longer a pupil. What you need are partners, right? There shouldn't be any highs or lows or in betweens, just level pegging?"
And then I huffed out a sigh, already realising I'd taken the wrong tone, chosen the wrong words, and bloody buggaring hell I was a bloody Victorian, not a new age man. "Buffy to me you are unique, the one and only glorious, wonderful, warrior queen Buffy. My golden duchess. My morning sunshine, that I will always reach for but never attain. But this change you've had, this difference, this lack of drive or interest, it's not you, luv."
She closed her eyes, but smiled at the same time. "I love it when you talk, you know?"
"But do you listen?"
"Of course," she said, "I always listen."
"I know you do."
"I love you, Spike."
"I love you too, Buffy."
"Good." She nodded, shut her eyes, satisfied with the result.
I chanced my arm, half wanting one answer, half the other. "And do you love Angel, pet?"
Her answer was one simple word. "Yes."
I couldn't help the lurch in my stomach that she hadn't expressed her undying, unstinting affection for me, her one and only. But I was nothing if not realistic. After all, I loved them both too, didn't I? "Good," I replied, echoing her answer. "And Dawn?"
"Yes." She nodded again.
"And what about your old man Watcher?"
"Yes, Spike, I love Giles. And I love Xander and Willow and I loved my mom and Tara. Happy now?" she grumbled with some amused exasperation, rolling her eyes at me.
"Not quite. Oi, Captain Forehead! Wake up!" And I leaned over her, just to cop a feel of her delightful breasts, but I wasn't telling her that as I tapped at the old man.
"What is it Spike?" His voice came at me through a clenched jaw.
"Awww, Mr Stud-Muffin, you're just too damn cute when you're sleepy and rude," I sing-songed.
Angel strangled a cry but let me propose it to her.
"See Buffy, we've got this problem and I reckon you're about the only one that can help us."
Buffy's eyes were wide expecting something, but probably not realising what I had in store. Angel turned over to look at me as I continued.
"There's this hell-god, and you know one or two things about them, don't you luv? And she's got us in a bit of a pickle, and although I've had a word with Angel he just won't seem to listen to me. And what I reckon is, that we need some expert help. A girl with kick-ass moves-"
"And don't forget the shoes, Spike," interrupted Angel.
"And the shoes, quite right, Angel. That knows a bit about the world-save-age and would be able to, y'know, lend a hand, now and then. Schedule and, er, Italian men permitting."
Buffy looked between us. "You're asking me to join you?"
Angel looked at me and I nodded, adding, "Reckon it's right up your street, pet. Your sort of deal. Demon destruction type of thing. Laying waste to the forces of evil across the globe."
"You make it sound so romantic," she said dryly, blinking slowly.
"But it can be, with two such fine fellows as your back-up."
"Back-up?" asked Angel, as she swung round to look at him, directing her glare at him. "Oh right, yes."
"So this is about my schedule and my Italian love life, right? And the fact that they're both very empty right now?"
"Just so," I replied.
"Let me sleep on it," she said, pulling the blankets once again over her, but I couldn't help but notice the smile on her face as she fell into sleep.
**
I just want a lover like any other/What do I get?/I only want a friend who will stay to the end/What do I get?
As soon as Angel was positive that Buffy was deep within sleep, he swung his legs from the bed and began collecting his clothes from the ground. I raised my eyebrow.
"Leaving already, Peaches? That's in record time, even for you."
He snorted, but said nothing, continued getting dressed and preparing to leave. I sighed heavily and deeply and realised that his mind was now elsewhere, like it usually was.
"Maybe we can let her sleep a bit. Let her prepare if we're all going to leave together?" I said contemplating the way her chest made the covers rise with each breath before shaking my head at the inevitability of the situation and beginning the search for my black T-shirt and jeans on the other side of the room. She did love swinging them about the place.
"You sure that's wise?" said Angel, his joking mood throughout the evening had gone, the stony façade back in place. "You're trying to endanger her?"
"Someone's got to kick you two into place, right? And let's face it Angel - we could do with her help, couldn't we? At some times? When it's more than just a handful of demons? And I don't particularly want to get involved with the Council of Wankers but you do realise that resources are not as readily available at our fingertips as they used to be? Right? Don't you think she'd want to be onboard? Don't you think we should offer her the chance?"
Angel faced the wall. "Let me think about it too. But I've got to leave and soon in order to find some transport to San Diego."
I made a show of being all perturbed that no-one was listening to me, as I pulled on my boots which made for a better storming from the room, muttering all the while that I just wanted a cigarette in the moonlight. But the fact was that the two of them were more alike than they let on. 'Thinking about it' meant the victory was all but mine.
I strolled out onto Buffy's balcony, catching a glimpse of the city below and remembering all that it meant to me. Now new memories were being created, changes were afoot, places to go and people to see. And my unlife just kept rolling on, twist and turns and riots and adventures. All of them sealed around the two sleeping forms in the room.
I'll stay here til dawn, I thought, sitting down, whistling that song about heroes and placing my boots on the balcony rail, and do a bit of thinking of my own.
**
If hands could free you, heart,/Where would you fly?/Far, beyond every part/Of earth this running sky/Makes desolate? Would you cross/City and hill and sea, If hands could set you free?/
I was sitting on the balcony, watching the smoke from my cigarette turn to blue light as it caressed the corners of my view, waiting inevitably for the sunrise to bar me from the day's beginning. As the curtain twitched from the other door, I knew it wasn't Angel or Buffy stepping through to see me.
"Huh, fancy seeing you here. Get Buffy home? All safe and snug?"
"Aftenoon to you too, Dawn."
"Yeah, yeah, tell it to your grandma. So I was out late, was Buffy concerned? No. And who springs a last minute visit on their sister anyways?" she moaned, stepping onto the balcony and taking the seat beside me.
"Woah," I said, arms in the air, "stepping away from the angry young lady now."
Dawn chuckled. "Yeah, sorry. Had an argument with..." She buttoned her lip over that half reveal.
"With?" I choked and couldn't stop my eyebrow soaring almost to my hairline.
"Well, that's none of your business now, is it?" She'd gotten haughty, defensive, unwilling to indulge me.
Bugger. Wrong angle. Things were obviously still not right between us; I'd felt that from the beginning but her young woman giggliness had thrown me off.
"Just so, Dawn. I gave up the right to be your friend a while ago, didn't I? Doesn't mean I don't want to keep trying to get that back." I took a too long pull on the dying cigarette.
"I never forgot, you know, what you did to Buffy." She directed her comment to the London skyline, her words of course very enigmatic and I marvelled at her bravery not to steal a glimpse of my reaction.
"Probably best to keep in mind what I am, Platelet."
"Yeah, probably. But after you burned up in the Hellmouth I realised that holding onto that particular grudge had eaten me up inside at the expense of a lot of other things. Sisters forever, right?"
"And why's that, love?" I wanted to extend a hand to her hand, but the moment didn't feel entirely right.
"Sometimes, I dunno. Maybe it's just force of habit." Her comment was throwaway, but something in the tone of her voice caught at me. Desperation, maybe, a desire to be noticed.
"We look after them, we do," I said, flicking the ash into the flowerpot. "They're not strong enough on their own, so we need to carry some of the weight. We're the real strong ones see, know about things. We're alike, in that way, always looking, watching, knowing."
"Yeah, maybe," Dawn assented.
"When was the last time Buffy fought a demon, Dawn?"
"Not that I'm her keeper, and not that you're hers either, and hell Giles isn't even her Watcher anymore-"
"Never thought I'd hear a swear word pass your delicate lips."
"Tch! I'd swipe one of your cigarettes, Spike, if I knew you'd let me." Her full gaze hit me now like a searchlight over water.
"Growing up fast eh?"
"That I am." She smiled - a full, brave, defiant, catch-me-if-you-can smile.
"Don't rightly want to miss that, too, Dawn."
"Yeah...well..." She seemed to hover over the decision. Excruciatingly.
"We'll leave it be for now. But, maybe, I could get your email?" It was a start wasn't it?
"Huh. Email? Not with the old fashioned pen and paper?"
"I'm a vamp, that moves with the times, aren't I?" I said, smiling and standing, stretching my arms high above my head. "A vamp that needs some beauty sleep if I'm going to retain these rugged good looks."
"Yeah, right."
"You know you love it."
"I love making fun of you, you mean," she sniggered, standing as well.
"Maybe. Right back atcha, kiddo," I said, placing my index finger in her hair.
I turned and made my way to the balcony door. Dawn sighed softly before continuing, "You're right, as always. Hasn't killed a demon or a vamp or anything since the Hellmouth dissolved. She's got into a kind of stasis, like she doesn't need to be the Slayer any more. But that's freaking her out. So she's got no purpose. And now that she's left it so long, there are other girls getting stronger, faster, better than her. I think she might be a little scared to ask out loud, but I know she's thinking, who is she now?"
I just nodded and turned to look at her. "Thought so," I said. "We've just got to keep looking out, right?"
Dawn chewed the side of her mouth, trying to hold back a grin, and walking back to her opened door. "Right. Goodnight, Spike."
"G'night, love, sleep tight."
Finis
A/N: The quotes that open each of Spike's sections are as follows: (i) John Donne's "Love's Deitie"; (ii) The Buzzcocks "What Do I Get?"; (iii) Philip Larkin's If Hands Could Free You, Heart
Author: Lillian Morgan
Pairing(s): Spike/Angel, Spike/Buffy, Spike/Angel/Buffy, Spike & Dawn
Rating: R (mainly for language and sexual situations)
Setting: post-/Not Fade Away/, the beginning of 2005, London
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Joss and ME do.
A/N: Thanks to yourlibrarian for the wonderful beta job.
Each character narrates his or her part and these are separated by their own unique idioms, because it's all in the first person.
'Til the End of the World
Part Five
Rebell and Atheist too, why murmure I,/As though I felt the worst that love could doe?/Love may make me leave loving, or might trie/A deeper plague, to make her love mee too,/Which since she loves before, I'am loth to see;/Falshood is worse then hate; and that must bee,/If shee whom I love, should love mee.
"What poetry did you read, luv?"
"What?" She was still a little dizzy from coming down from those brave, brave heights. It had been a while, I suspected, not only because she hadn't done it for a few months, okay more than a few, but she also hadn't done it quite that many times in succession and quite so brilliantly. Or been done so brilliantly either, I'd wager. Two for the price of one - each learning new and intricate things about the other.
"You said, after I burned to a crisp in Sunnydale, you spent your Italian summers reading poetry," I repeated as I looked over her shoulder at Angel's newly dozing form. "What took your fancy?"
"Oh that." She shook her head, hoping to clear the fugue. "Um. Well, for starters that wasn't in Italy, that was in London with Giles. And second of all, Giles helped me for a bit. But then I googled some...."
"And?"
She smiled, sheepishly and twisted the sheet in my hands. "Wordsworth. I liked the one about the daffodils. And Keats. His life was very sad, wasn't it? And Byron, Manfred reminded me a little of you. So."
"They're some old blokes there. Tried Neruda or Yevtushencko?"
She shook her head. "I probably need a better teacher."
"Nah, pet, not a teacher."
"Huh?" And then she was off. "Oh god, I was trying to be all coy and charming and intriguing and wasn't there a poem about coy mistresses, and hang on didn't the woman die? And oh my god, don't you want to have me as your mistress, even though I don't do a good job of being coy and-"
"For God's sake, woman!" I nearly shouted, trying not to look scared but not really succeeding so I quickly donned some bluster. "Quit your blathering. What I meant was you don't need a teacher, because you're no longer a pupil. What you need are partners, right? There shouldn't be any highs or lows or in betweens, just level pegging?"
And then I huffed out a sigh, already realising I'd taken the wrong tone, chosen the wrong words, and bloody buggaring hell I was a bloody Victorian, not a new age man. "Buffy to me you are unique, the one and only glorious, wonderful, warrior queen Buffy. My golden duchess. My morning sunshine, that I will always reach for but never attain. But this change you've had, this difference, this lack of drive or interest, it's not you, luv."
She closed her eyes, but smiled at the same time. "I love it when you talk, you know?"
"But do you listen?"
"Of course," she said, "I always listen."
"I know you do."
"I love you, Spike."
"I love you too, Buffy."
"Good." She nodded, shut her eyes, satisfied with the result.
I chanced my arm, half wanting one answer, half the other. "And do you love Angel, pet?"
Her answer was one simple word. "Yes."
I couldn't help the lurch in my stomach that she hadn't expressed her undying, unstinting affection for me, her one and only. But I was nothing if not realistic. After all, I loved them both too, didn't I? "Good," I replied, echoing her answer. "And Dawn?"
"Yes." She nodded again.
"And what about your old man Watcher?"
"Yes, Spike, I love Giles. And I love Xander and Willow and I loved my mom and Tara. Happy now?" she grumbled with some amused exasperation, rolling her eyes at me.
"Not quite. Oi, Captain Forehead! Wake up!" And I leaned over her, just to cop a feel of her delightful breasts, but I wasn't telling her that as I tapped at the old man.
"What is it Spike?" His voice came at me through a clenched jaw.
"Awww, Mr Stud-Muffin, you're just too damn cute when you're sleepy and rude," I sing-songed.
Angel strangled a cry but let me propose it to her.
"See Buffy, we've got this problem and I reckon you're about the only one that can help us."
Buffy's eyes were wide expecting something, but probably not realising what I had in store. Angel turned over to look at me as I continued.
"There's this hell-god, and you know one or two things about them, don't you luv? And she's got us in a bit of a pickle, and although I've had a word with Angel he just won't seem to listen to me. And what I reckon is, that we need some expert help. A girl with kick-ass moves-"
"And don't forget the shoes, Spike," interrupted Angel.
"And the shoes, quite right, Angel. That knows a bit about the world-save-age and would be able to, y'know, lend a hand, now and then. Schedule and, er, Italian men permitting."
Buffy looked between us. "You're asking me to join you?"
Angel looked at me and I nodded, adding, "Reckon it's right up your street, pet. Your sort of deal. Demon destruction type of thing. Laying waste to the forces of evil across the globe."
"You make it sound so romantic," she said dryly, blinking slowly.
"But it can be, with two such fine fellows as your back-up."
"Back-up?" asked Angel, as she swung round to look at him, directing her glare at him. "Oh right, yes."
"So this is about my schedule and my Italian love life, right? And the fact that they're both very empty right now?"
"Just so," I replied.
"Let me sleep on it," she said, pulling the blankets once again over her, but I couldn't help but notice the smile on her face as she fell into sleep.
**
I just want a lover like any other/What do I get?/I only want a friend who will stay to the end/What do I get?
As soon as Angel was positive that Buffy was deep within sleep, he swung his legs from the bed and began collecting his clothes from the ground. I raised my eyebrow.
"Leaving already, Peaches? That's in record time, even for you."
He snorted, but said nothing, continued getting dressed and preparing to leave. I sighed heavily and deeply and realised that his mind was now elsewhere, like it usually was.
"Maybe we can let her sleep a bit. Let her prepare if we're all going to leave together?" I said contemplating the way her chest made the covers rise with each breath before shaking my head at the inevitability of the situation and beginning the search for my black T-shirt and jeans on the other side of the room. She did love swinging them about the place.
"You sure that's wise?" said Angel, his joking mood throughout the evening had gone, the stony façade back in place. "You're trying to endanger her?"
"Someone's got to kick you two into place, right? And let's face it Angel - we could do with her help, couldn't we? At some times? When it's more than just a handful of demons? And I don't particularly want to get involved with the Council of Wankers but you do realise that resources are not as readily available at our fingertips as they used to be? Right? Don't you think she'd want to be onboard? Don't you think we should offer her the chance?"
Angel faced the wall. "Let me think about it too. But I've got to leave and soon in order to find some transport to San Diego."
I made a show of being all perturbed that no-one was listening to me, as I pulled on my boots which made for a better storming from the room, muttering all the while that I just wanted a cigarette in the moonlight. But the fact was that the two of them were more alike than they let on. 'Thinking about it' meant the victory was all but mine.
I strolled out onto Buffy's balcony, catching a glimpse of the city below and remembering all that it meant to me. Now new memories were being created, changes were afoot, places to go and people to see. And my unlife just kept rolling on, twist and turns and riots and adventures. All of them sealed around the two sleeping forms in the room.
I'll stay here til dawn, I thought, sitting down, whistling that song about heroes and placing my boots on the balcony rail, and do a bit of thinking of my own.
**
If hands could free you, heart,/Where would you fly?/Far, beyond every part/Of earth this running sky/Makes desolate? Would you cross/City and hill and sea, If hands could set you free?/
I was sitting on the balcony, watching the smoke from my cigarette turn to blue light as it caressed the corners of my view, waiting inevitably for the sunrise to bar me from the day's beginning. As the curtain twitched from the other door, I knew it wasn't Angel or Buffy stepping through to see me.
"Huh, fancy seeing you here. Get Buffy home? All safe and snug?"
"Aftenoon to you too, Dawn."
"Yeah, yeah, tell it to your grandma. So I was out late, was Buffy concerned? No. And who springs a last minute visit on their sister anyways?" she moaned, stepping onto the balcony and taking the seat beside me.
"Woah," I said, arms in the air, "stepping away from the angry young lady now."
Dawn chuckled. "Yeah, sorry. Had an argument with..." She buttoned her lip over that half reveal.
"With?" I choked and couldn't stop my eyebrow soaring almost to my hairline.
"Well, that's none of your business now, is it?" She'd gotten haughty, defensive, unwilling to indulge me.
Bugger. Wrong angle. Things were obviously still not right between us; I'd felt that from the beginning but her young woman giggliness had thrown me off.
"Just so, Dawn. I gave up the right to be your friend a while ago, didn't I? Doesn't mean I don't want to keep trying to get that back." I took a too long pull on the dying cigarette.
"I never forgot, you know, what you did to Buffy." She directed her comment to the London skyline, her words of course very enigmatic and I marvelled at her bravery not to steal a glimpse of my reaction.
"Probably best to keep in mind what I am, Platelet."
"Yeah, probably. But after you burned up in the Hellmouth I realised that holding onto that particular grudge had eaten me up inside at the expense of a lot of other things. Sisters forever, right?"
"And why's that, love?" I wanted to extend a hand to her hand, but the moment didn't feel entirely right.
"Sometimes, I dunno. Maybe it's just force of habit." Her comment was throwaway, but something in the tone of her voice caught at me. Desperation, maybe, a desire to be noticed.
"We look after them, we do," I said, flicking the ash into the flowerpot. "They're not strong enough on their own, so we need to carry some of the weight. We're the real strong ones see, know about things. We're alike, in that way, always looking, watching, knowing."
"Yeah, maybe," Dawn assented.
"When was the last time Buffy fought a demon, Dawn?"
"Not that I'm her keeper, and not that you're hers either, and hell Giles isn't even her Watcher anymore-"
"Never thought I'd hear a swear word pass your delicate lips."
"Tch! I'd swipe one of your cigarettes, Spike, if I knew you'd let me." Her full gaze hit me now like a searchlight over water.
"Growing up fast eh?"
"That I am." She smiled - a full, brave, defiant, catch-me-if-you-can smile.
"Don't rightly want to miss that, too, Dawn."
"Yeah...well..." She seemed to hover over the decision. Excruciatingly.
"We'll leave it be for now. But, maybe, I could get your email?" It was a start wasn't it?
"Huh. Email? Not with the old fashioned pen and paper?"
"I'm a vamp, that moves with the times, aren't I?" I said, smiling and standing, stretching my arms high above my head. "A vamp that needs some beauty sleep if I'm going to retain these rugged good looks."
"Yeah, right."
"You know you love it."
"I love making fun of you, you mean," she sniggered, standing as well.
"Maybe. Right back atcha, kiddo," I said, placing my index finger in her hair.
I turned and made my way to the balcony door. Dawn sighed softly before continuing, "You're right, as always. Hasn't killed a demon or a vamp or anything since the Hellmouth dissolved. She's got into a kind of stasis, like she doesn't need to be the Slayer any more. But that's freaking her out. So she's got no purpose. And now that she's left it so long, there are other girls getting stronger, faster, better than her. I think she might be a little scared to ask out loud, but I know she's thinking, who is she now?"
I just nodded and turned to look at her. "Thought so," I said. "We've just got to keep looking out, right?"
Dawn chewed the side of her mouth, trying to hold back a grin, and walking back to her opened door. "Right. Goodnight, Spike."
"G'night, love, sleep tight."
Finis
A/N: The quotes that open each of Spike's sections are as follows: (i) John Donne's "Love's Deitie"; (ii) The Buzzcocks "What Do I Get?"; (iii) Philip Larkin's If Hands Could Free You, Heart
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