Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Post Obitum
TITLE: Post Obitum
AUTHOR: Quicksilvermad
EMAIL: quicksilvermad@ix.netcom.com
SUMMARY: One small event needs changing in the past--lest the future of earth be no more. Basically, it's a normal day for Spike.
RATING: perhaps a soft R for imagery, violence, and language.
PAIRING: W/S, S/Ay friendship, X/Ay, B/R
SPOILERS: Harsh Light of Day, Wild at Heart, Initiative, Pangs, Something Blue--random season five stuff. This doesn't follow season six or seven. Especially since I hate the whole B/S angle, and I preferred it didn't exist. So that's how I wrote this.
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them, not me. If I owned them, there would be no cruelty against Spike. Oh yeah, there's a reference to 'Fight Club' in here, and I don't own that either. Let's just say that if you see something familiar in here, I don't own it. Like Post-It notes and 'Law & Order.'
DISTRIBUTION: Here, FF.net, Breathe, Redsoulmates, and anyone who asks.
PART 1
The year was 3118. It wasn't that the singular fact that it was the year 3118 was most especially important--it was the fact that this was the last year earth would exist. This, in a term that died out when fossil fuels did, sucked. Technology had advanced to the point where predicting such an apocalypse (its causes and specific date) was possible, as was preventing it. How to prevent it was another issue entirely. And sitting there, in his immaculate black suit coupled with a silvery vest and red tie, Spike let the banality of the situation wash over him--trimmed brown hair and all. This was old hat to him. The other delegates of the world didn't quite agree. In fact, they were in a bit of an uproar.
"Madame President, surely you can't be suggesting.../time travel!?" /one representative from Russia spat out. He didn't look any happier than the rest--the quills around his jaw were quivering with outrage.
With more than a little aloofness, Spike brought his foot up and rested it upon his opposite knee. His fellow English delegate (the human one--each country was represented by one human and one demon) looked at him warily.
"It's the only way. American scientists have pinpointed the origin of the anomaly, and we believe we can fix it," the President continued. Spike picked lint off the cuff of his pant leg. "The machine we have constructed has been tested and it has proven successful in each trial. We just need to send someone back," she explained.
"But 'time travel?!'" said a human from Canada. Spike wondered if flannel was considered proper formal dress for a delegate meeting. He didn't think so.
"If you'd hear us out..." said the demon that sat beside the President. Spike's eyes finally shot up and glued themselves on her. Yep, Anya hadn't changed a bit. Well, except her hair. But that changed every two months. "Then perhaps you'd understand. The false apocalypse that is impending will result directly from the following domino effect of one spell-gone-wrong. Master Merriday, perhaps you could explain. You were there as well as me. In fact, you were affected by it."
Spike tried to hide the visible wince that came with hearing his human surname, but he stood fluidly nonetheless. "It would be wise to follow the United States' decision, yes. It's quite a simple mistake to correct--"
"Then you go!" shouted a random delegate. Spike pinpointed the voice and glared hatefully at the weasel-y Australian, a bit of gold flaring against the blue in his eyes for a second. The Aussie shied appropriately.
"Actually," Anyanka began, now standing, "that is a prudent suggestion. Master Merriday knows the perpetrator quite well. As do I."
"It's settled, then?" asked the President. She turned to the moderator and gave a sharp nod.
"Do I have a motion to put this plan into effect?" the moderator asked.
The 'ayes' were thunderous to Spike's preternatural senses.
"And those opposed?" the moderator asked again.
He heard three 'nays.'
"Then the 'ayes' have it. Do I have a motion to conclude this meeting?" he asked. His answer was unanimously 'aye.' "And is that motion seconded?"
"Aye," said the Chinese delegates. The moderator dropped his gavel and it hit the block on the podium with a resounding crack that echoed throughout the gigantic room. "Very well, meeting is adjourned."
Around the room, people stood and exited with a fair amount of discussion between them. Spike scowled and ignored the English delegate's request for dinner. With the anger that he was feeling now, he didn't trust himself not to take a bite out of her long neck. Instead, he approached Anya and the President.
"Anyanka, I swear to God--"
"Come on, Spike. You know we're the only ones who can stop this!"
"What if it isn't supposed to be stopped this time? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the time for earth is up? And besides, what the bloody hell is with this 'we' stuff anyhow?" he fumed. Anya simply smiled.
"Spike, no one knows when the world is going to end. When there's a warning like this that means it should be stopped. And the 'we' stuff? You know I love you."
He poked her in the arm. "Don't pull that with me, little girl," he said--with the tiniest bit of a growl thrown in.
"Master Merriday," the President interrupted, "there's no room for argument. We'll have a transport come around and pick you up tomorrow morning at nine," she held up a hand to forestall his angry protestations. "You have no choice. I'll even throw in breakfast."
"Ha, /bloody/, ha," Spike said. Absently, at the sound of the word 'morning,' he twisted the Gem of Amara around his ring finger.
Anya smiled at him again. "Go home and get some rest. We have a long trip ahead of us."
They both turned and left him there, standing in the middle of the chamber with a torn look on his face. After a moment of still silence, he turned and exited the building in equal silence, hailed a cab without making a sound, and uttered not a peep on the way back to his empty...quiet...mansion.
Silence, now, was overrated.
To Be Continued...
AUTHOR: Quicksilvermad
EMAIL: quicksilvermad@ix.netcom.com
SUMMARY: One small event needs changing in the past--lest the future of earth be no more. Basically, it's a normal day for Spike.
RATING: perhaps a soft R for imagery, violence, and language.
PAIRING: W/S, S/Ay friendship, X/Ay, B/R
SPOILERS: Harsh Light of Day, Wild at Heart, Initiative, Pangs, Something Blue--random season five stuff. This doesn't follow season six or seven. Especially since I hate the whole B/S angle, and I preferred it didn't exist. So that's how I wrote this.
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them, not me. If I owned them, there would be no cruelty against Spike. Oh yeah, there's a reference to 'Fight Club' in here, and I don't own that either. Let's just say that if you see something familiar in here, I don't own it. Like Post-It notes and 'Law & Order.'
DISTRIBUTION: Here, FF.net, Breathe, Redsoulmates, and anyone who asks.
PART 1
The year was 3118. It wasn't that the singular fact that it was the year 3118 was most especially important--it was the fact that this was the last year earth would exist. This, in a term that died out when fossil fuels did, sucked. Technology had advanced to the point where predicting such an apocalypse (its causes and specific date) was possible, as was preventing it. How to prevent it was another issue entirely. And sitting there, in his immaculate black suit coupled with a silvery vest and red tie, Spike let the banality of the situation wash over him--trimmed brown hair and all. This was old hat to him. The other delegates of the world didn't quite agree. In fact, they were in a bit of an uproar.
"Madame President, surely you can't be suggesting.../time travel!?" /one representative from Russia spat out. He didn't look any happier than the rest--the quills around his jaw were quivering with outrage.
With more than a little aloofness, Spike brought his foot up and rested it upon his opposite knee. His fellow English delegate (the human one--each country was represented by one human and one demon) looked at him warily.
"It's the only way. American scientists have pinpointed the origin of the anomaly, and we believe we can fix it," the President continued. Spike picked lint off the cuff of his pant leg. "The machine we have constructed has been tested and it has proven successful in each trial. We just need to send someone back," she explained.
"But 'time travel?!'" said a human from Canada. Spike wondered if flannel was considered proper formal dress for a delegate meeting. He didn't think so.
"If you'd hear us out..." said the demon that sat beside the President. Spike's eyes finally shot up and glued themselves on her. Yep, Anya hadn't changed a bit. Well, except her hair. But that changed every two months. "Then perhaps you'd understand. The false apocalypse that is impending will result directly from the following domino effect of one spell-gone-wrong. Master Merriday, perhaps you could explain. You were there as well as me. In fact, you were affected by it."
Spike tried to hide the visible wince that came with hearing his human surname, but he stood fluidly nonetheless. "It would be wise to follow the United States' decision, yes. It's quite a simple mistake to correct--"
"Then you go!" shouted a random delegate. Spike pinpointed the voice and glared hatefully at the weasel-y Australian, a bit of gold flaring against the blue in his eyes for a second. The Aussie shied appropriately.
"Actually," Anyanka began, now standing, "that is a prudent suggestion. Master Merriday knows the perpetrator quite well. As do I."
"It's settled, then?" asked the President. She turned to the moderator and gave a sharp nod.
"Do I have a motion to put this plan into effect?" the moderator asked.
The 'ayes' were thunderous to Spike's preternatural senses.
"And those opposed?" the moderator asked again.
He heard three 'nays.'
"Then the 'ayes' have it. Do I have a motion to conclude this meeting?" he asked. His answer was unanimously 'aye.' "And is that motion seconded?"
"Aye," said the Chinese delegates. The moderator dropped his gavel and it hit the block on the podium with a resounding crack that echoed throughout the gigantic room. "Very well, meeting is adjourned."
Around the room, people stood and exited with a fair amount of discussion between them. Spike scowled and ignored the English delegate's request for dinner. With the anger that he was feeling now, he didn't trust himself not to take a bite out of her long neck. Instead, he approached Anya and the President.
"Anyanka, I swear to God--"
"Come on, Spike. You know we're the only ones who can stop this!"
"What if it isn't supposed to be stopped this time? Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the time for earth is up? And besides, what the bloody hell is with this 'we' stuff anyhow?" he fumed. Anya simply smiled.
"Spike, no one knows when the world is going to end. When there's a warning like this that means it should be stopped. And the 'we' stuff? You know I love you."
He poked her in the arm. "Don't pull that with me, little girl," he said--with the tiniest bit of a growl thrown in.
"Master Merriday," the President interrupted, "there's no room for argument. We'll have a transport come around and pick you up tomorrow morning at nine," she held up a hand to forestall his angry protestations. "You have no choice. I'll even throw in breakfast."
"Ha, /bloody/, ha," Spike said. Absently, at the sound of the word 'morning,' he twisted the Gem of Amara around his ring finger.
Anya smiled at him again. "Go home and get some rest. We have a long trip ahead of us."
They both turned and left him there, standing in the middle of the chamber with a torn look on his face. After a moment of still silence, he turned and exited the building in equal silence, hailed a cab without making a sound, and uttered not a peep on the way back to his empty...quiet...mansion.
Silence, now, was overrated.
To Be Continued...
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