Sartre II
It disturbs me no more to find men base, unjust, or selfish than to see apes mischievous, wolves savage, or the vulture ravenous.
Spike walked on scent alone. As familiar as his eyes were with darkness, there was no challenging this utter blackness. To either side, the damp walls gave off a salty, oily smell, the smell of karst. The dripping of water from the ceiling acted to his ears like the sonar of a bat, mapping out the contours of this dark underworld.
The bitter taste in his mouth, however, refused to go away. He licked his lips, bled his own tongue and went so far as to bring the salty water from the cave wall on his fingers to his mouth. Nothing relieved him of the taste of the ash. He would have given anything for a tic tac.
He walked on stoically, realizing after several minutes of careful listening that neither of the girls were following him. He was going this along.
He recalled in his mind all those things he had learned about the Senior Partners. This brought behind his closed eyes the image of Wolfram & Hart, the law firm which until a few years ago had been managed by Angel himself. Spike swallowed the taste. Somehow the Senior Partners, whoever or whatever they were, had marked Angel as a Player. An important figure, even if just a pawn, in the battle to come. They had tried to coerce him, subtly, to fight for their side, which in the end failed utterly.
Spike had been in the alley with him that night, when they had fought to the end against the tide of demons whose sole purpose was to erase the mistake the Partners had made when putting trust in the vampire with a soul.
But that was not the end of it, Spike mused. When only he and Angel had walked out of that alley, it seemed clear that forces greater than the Partners had plans for them. For them both.
Spike's destiny as a champion was set in motion with the destruction of Sunnydale, the amulet he wore made sure of that. Could it have been the Senior Partners' doing as well? Could their need for Angel have extended over Spike once he had had his own soul shoved down his throat?
Spike stepped in a puddle, pausing in mid stride. He felt along the ground for a pebble. Breaking off a small stone which seemed to be nearly cemented to the floor, he tossed it ahead of him, hearing a plunk as it hit the surface of a substantial body of water.
Spike sighed and waded in. His mind returned to his destiny as the icy water rose about him. Had the shanshu prophecy foretold Angel's death? Or perhaps just a vampire's death. Did Buffy save him for that? Gratitude, with a warm sense of glee washed over him, undeterred by the ice cold water. She loved him not old Dead Boy after all. His arms reached out in front of him, brushing the water aside, propelling him forwards as his feet lost the bottom. But what was his destiny now? He thought, to die in some other horrible way? To face the Senior Partners alone? Was that the role of the Champion? How could they have allowed him to stay alive, if indeed there was any chance of him destroying them? Had Spike, himself, been marked by someone else? With other plans for him?
A frown plagued his face. He disliked the idea that he was a toy, albeit an important toy, but under the control of someone else nonetheless.
The water was numbing his fingers and toes. He wasn't entirely certain he was going to end up anywhere. Perhaps he had sealed his own fate when he drank the ashes. He took the cold water into his mouth, tasting the saltiness overpower the bitter dust. That's better, he thought. Then his feet touched the bottom again.
Buffy wandered through the darkness blind, her hand brushing the wet cave wall, as the Clovis man had, his withered body now resting by the stairs.
The Slayer had no idea where she was going. She remembered that somewhere vaguely in front of her was a shaft that led to the cave outside the white place, and then beyond that was the dark place, though every place was dark now. But in that place where she had seen Dawn, alone and scared, there were no walls to guide her, so she saved her last flare for when she reached the upper level.
The death of Angel was like a numbing blanket over her mind. It was a thick haze that all other thoughts had to penetrate before reaching the surface. She recalled a vague shadow of this feeling when, years before, she had run her lover through with a sword and pushed him back into a lesser hell dimension. That had been painful enough.
In the darkness, his eyes, as he had looked at her, burned into her mind. Betrayal. She had saved Spike, told him of the danger, kept it from Angel. Why? she asked herself. Because she knew of the petty bickering and rivalry between Spike and Angel. Over her. Over the identity defined by being the vampire with a soul. And she had chosen sides. Let her guard down long enough for it to kill one of them. It was only after, as Spike, the one she had found herself choosing, stood in the ashes of the other, just as the prophecy had said, that she realized which one of them she had loved. To whom her heart had belonged. To whom she would always belong. It was then that the piece of her she had forgotten she had, had died.
She slowed her stumbling walk as a glow appeared from around a bend in the rock. It was the glow from the top of the shaft. She approached carefully, but sure enough, Giles had gone. Angel had taken him to the entrance just as he had said. He had also said he had done likewise for Andrew. Had he not found Dawn? Was the dark place too vast to search?
The rope hung as it had when she had left it. Buffy was not looking forward to the climb back up. A hand came down on her shoulder.
"Sweety," the woman's voice said.
Buffy turned. "Mommy?"
Willow was alone. More alone than she had ever felt. The flare was her only comfort. It hissed and crackled, reminding her that there was a world out there still that made things like this; crude, imperfect, very, very human things.
Will had found an off branching tunnel around a corner in the rock and had followed it, deciding that she would see where it led. She was better equipped than either of her two lost comrades and there was an equal chance that this tunnel led to their destination.
Most of all, swimming in her mind was terrible confusion. The destinies of her friends were unraveling before her eyes and she had not a clue what it all meant. Angel had died and Spike and drank his ashes. Buffy had called together this entire endeavor and she was the first one to quit. Willow had always been in the know. Always able to help, to be the source of information, but now she was lost and alone. Alone in the dark; the flare sputtered out.
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