Title: Hello Goodbye (Part 10 of 12)

Author: Jeanny

Description: The gang must discover their gifts in order to bring back the dead Slayer.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters; they all belong to Joss & Company. And no money's being made here...move along, nothing to see.

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Spike stormed out of the Magic Box determined to never set foot in the place again. Part of him still couldn't believe that the whelp had actually hit him. Not the bravest move, given that he couldn't fight back, but still...you had to respect the violence. Damn Harris for being able to get his frustrations out like that. He'd give anything at this moment to be able to fill this empty feeling inside with a good old-fashioned kill. Damn them all.

He hadn't planned on heading anywhere in particular, but was unsurprised to find himself back at the construction site. He almost always ended up here. It was almost a joke, if it was even remotely funny. All roads lead to Buffy. Spike stepped past the warning barricades and into the still unfinished building with a bitter laugh. That the building still hadn't been finished after all this time was a fitting tribute. The road to Buffy was the road to ruin; Spike didn't need a chip in his head to get that one.

He had no idea how long he'd been standing there when he felt the approach of another vampire. Also not unusual; as the place where the Slayer had breathed her last, this site had become an undead tourist attraction. Wasn't the first time someone had encroached on his turf, and he felt himself tense a bit in anticipation. He might get a chance to fight someone after all. Spike lit a cigarette and waited, as the vampire grew closer. Recognition almost made him sigh. Angel. Just splendid.

Of course, it had been quite another story when Angel had explained why he had come. At first Spike had feared this was a trick. He knew that Angel was too much of a do-gooder to play such a nasty game, but Angelus had been quite another story. He saw the sincerity in the dark vampire's eyes, and for a moment he allowed himself to feel hope...but then he remembered. The light had gone out of Buffy long before she had taken herself out of the game. Buffy had finally been ready to dance, but it hadn't been a good day. Not at all.

Angel had gotten the dirt on Buffy's state of mind from Harris, of all people. This would have amazed Spike if he hadn't understood grief. People didn't realize the power it had. Spike knew that the thing that really made him different than the others of his kind wasn't his effectively neutered status or his woeful taste in women. It was his ability to understand the power in emotions. Grief could make people do things they didn't even know they were capable of...like Harris' actions tonight. He touched his jaw, remembering. He glared at Angel, standing there looking so hopeful.

"I'm the only one that wants to admit what happened." Angel let that statement hang in the air for a moment before responding quietly.

"Or maybe you want to believe it so you feel better about letting her down." For a moment Spike wanted to scream. Buffy was dead. Knowing that she had given up didn't make him feel better. And vampires didn't feel guilt. Never felt guilt. Never at all. Rather than scream he lit a cigarette; it would at least give him something else to do with his mouth.

"We can get her back. We can make things better... for everyone." Angel had that intense boy scout look about him that the Slayer always fancied. Obviously he had his heart set on going through with...whatever this was, and Spike was willing to bet that the others did too. But if the Slayer was going to be brought back, the piper would most definitely have to be paid. And Angel had told him almost nothing about what the plan was, including...

"What's the catch?" Although he shook his head, Spike could tell Angel still had something important to tell him. Whatever it was, he was certain he was going to hate it.

"I don't know. Cordelia said the Powers were going to test us. All we know is that if we fail..."

Silence. Spike blinked. Angel had disappeared in midsentence, and he roared with frustration. His fury overcame him, causing him to blindly rage about, grabbing anything he touched and hurling it as far as he could.

"If we fail, WHAT? If we fail, WHAT? I can't believe he did this to me!" Spike removed his jacket and threw it on the ground, stomping on it a few times for good measure. "Goin' in to some kind of test with the bleedin' Powers, who'd just as soon stake a bloke as look at him, and..."

He trailed off as he stared down at the jacket lying on the opulent red carpet. Spike took a good look at his surroundings for the first time. He was in a theater lobby. Due to his recent tantrum, a trashed theater lobby. Judging by the popcorn buckets and candy boxes scattered everywhere, a trashed movie theater lobby. Spike found himself almost smiling. He could remember back in the 1930's how he and Dru would come to places like this to take in a show and have a bite or two...good times. Dru loved going to the cinema, but afterwards she would continue to hold conversations with the characters for days. That part had grated on his nerves.

Surprised by the sudden wave of nostalgia, he reached down and grabbed his jacket. As if in a dream he walked through the empty lobby and entered the back of the darkened theatre. The movie was already in progress. It sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't place it right away. He stepped into the darkened room and froze staring at the screen. Staring at himself and Xander Harris, larger than life in grainy black and white footage.

"I'm not a monster," the onscreen Spike was saying.

"You are a monster. Vampires are monsters. They make monster movies about them," came the reply.

"Bloody hell," Spike whispered. "What the bloody hell is this? Somebody's sick idea of a joke?"

"Actually, I find it quite remarkable," a voice from the last row responded with cheerful enthusiasm, and Spike growled. "Well, that's hardly polite, is it? I should expect no better, I suppose, but still, I was an educated gentleman. I should have thought some of that would have carried over." Spike stalked behind the seats, reaching down and grabbing the unseen speaker and turning him around to face him. He stared into blue eyes he hadn't seen in more than a century, although there had been a time when he'd seen them in his mirror each morning.

"What the...what is this? I'm here, so you can't be. You're dead. Right?" William cleared his throat, his brown hair falling into his eyes. He was dressed in exactly the outfit he had worn when Drusilla had found him in the alley. When she had killed him. Liberated him.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd unhand me. This coat is quite my favorite," William squeaked in an attempt at bravado that failed miserably. Spike let him go. He felt suddenly numb as understanding set in.

"I was staked, wasn't I? This is some kind of intro to Hell, and you're here to start the never-ending torment. Torture me with..." He stared back up at the screen, the temporarily forgotten movie having moved on to a new scene. Dru and himself, and...her. "Oh, God."

"I'm gonna kill Drusilla for you," the on-screen Spike was saying. The unknown camera seemed to zoom in for a close-up of Buffy's face, and Spike felt like he was drowning, though that was impossible.

"That doesn't prove anything," the onscreen Buffy practically spit at him. Spike felt like she was looking right through him, and he shivered as she continued, "except that you're a sick, miserable vampire that I should have dusted a long time ago. And, hey, already there."

"That didn't go well," William remarked, also staring at the screen. "Shame, really. She is truly exquisite." Spike looked at him bitterly.

"Well, yeah. Not one of my finer moments. Also not one of my worst, as there was precious little torture and, sadly, nobody died, so why the creature feature show?"

"Oh, that's brilliant!" William responded enthusiastically. "Creature feature...what a positively wonderful expression! I must write that down..."

"Will you stop that?!" Spike cried out angrily, reaching to choke the life out of this annoyingly not dead version of himself. William gave a small womanish scream as Spike cried out from the sudden pain in his head. The chip was apparently still working, and for some reason was protecting this doppelganger.

"Now, s-see here, d-demon..." William stammered as Spike clutched his head.

"Definitely in hell," the vampire murmured, wishing he could just reach out and... That thought set his head to pounding anew.

"The Powers that sent me promised I would not be harmed."

"And you believed that, you balmy twit?" William paled and began to shrink away from Spike, who held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Would you stop being such a soddin girl? I'm not going to hurt you, I can't. Besides, not sure if I could kill you, what with you being me and being dead and all." He looked up and raised his voice, trying to address the Powers directly. "But I'm also not going to sit here eating jelly babies and playing "This is Your Bleedin' Life" with you lot, so let's get on with it, shall we? Whatever this is, I just want to have done with it. Come on, torment me some more." William stared at him blankly.

"I'm not here to torment you, demon. I'm here to offer you a choice. To help Buffy Summers." Spike gave a short laugh.

"Well, that's a simple one, then. I choose to help the Slayer. Already done it; apparently no one's been payin' attention."

"You don't understand. The Powers need you to give them something. A gift for the Slayer."

"What sort of gift?" Spike asked suspiciously. He reached automatically into his jacket pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. To his dismay it was completely crushed by his earlier tantrum. He threw it away with a sigh as William continued his explanation.

"Well, I'm not really supposed to...my instructions from the Powers are that I'm just to present you with the choice. Two paths, if you will. When you choose your path, you'll also choose your gift. If you choose correctly, you will help save Miss Summers. If not, well, things will be different."

"Okay, I've got to choose, and you've got to explain. And you'll be giving me this information when? I may be dead, but that doesn't mean I'm patient, mate. You should know that better than anyone." William straightened with a fastidious sniff.

"Indeed. To the point then. You must decide whether to continue your existence as you are, or to be restored to as you were." Spike stared at him blankly.

"You mean all tortured with a soul, like the great brooding poof?" William smirked, looking very much like the vampire he had become.

"Not quite that. You would no longer be a vampire. You would live out a normal existence as a human." He puffed up a bit. "You would be me."

"No, no, no. I can't be you. I haven't been you for...no." Spike shook his head. "I like being a vampire." William laughed condescendingly, stopping only when Spike fixed him with a hostile stare.

"What sort of vampire are you now anyway? You're unable to be true to your nature."

"What do you know about my nature?" Spike asked bitterly. William returned his gaze to the movie screen, his expression softening.

"I know you love Buffy Summers." Spike opened his mouth to protest, then changed his mind. There was no point in denying the obvious.

"Yes."

"You know you can never have her as you are. It can never be love between you," William said, gesturing towards the screen. Spike looked at the screen and moaned. That last night at Buffy's house, when his words halted her on the stairs.

"I know you'll never love me," the onscreen Spike intoned. Standing next to William in the theatre, the real Spike closed his eyes. He couldn't watch, knowing what happened that night. How he had promised to protect Dawn and had failed. "I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man..."

"She'll never love you," William whispered in his ear. Spike turned his back to the screen, giving a hollow laugh and wishing again that he had a cigarette. He needed to fill up the emptiness inside of him with something, even if it was just smoke.

"No, I don't think she ever will. But a bloke has to keep tryin', eh?" He muttered with a hollow chuckle. William grabbed his arm in earnest.

"If you were human...she might. She might love you, if you were still...as I was." Spike pushed his hand away, his expression glum.

"Can't go back to being the way I was before...not now. The man that I was is dead." He fixed his double with a stare. "You don't exist any longer." William began to pace, running his fingers through his unruly brown hair. He gestured emphatically as he spoke.

"But don't you see? I could. You could. The Powers are willing to give you that, if you decide you wish to be human. And is it not worth it, for love?" The eyes of both were drawn back to the screen; the film was now frozen in a closeup of Buffy's face. "To have her love you back, is it that high of a price to pay?"

"I don't know," Spike responded angrily. "Is love my gift? Is that what you're saying?"

"I never said that! In truth, I have no idea what your gift is, but do YOU not think it's love?"

"The Slayer neither wants or needs my love," Spike answered brusquely. Could Buffy actually love him back? And if so, wouldn't mortality be a small price to pay for such happiness? He had no idea how to deal with that possibility.

"The Slayer doesn't want the love of a monster. But you...I...was a good man once. Buffy Summers could love such a man, I know it." William's eyes were shining and noble, and for a moment Spike remembered fully what he had been when he was alive. He saw a vision of himself as a man, saw Buffy in his arms. His knees felt suddenly weak, and he grabbed onto the back of the seat for support. Other memories poured into his mind and he smiled bitterly. He knew what his answer would be. He also knew it was likely the wrong one.

"The Slayer's been loved by good men, and she's been loved by monsters. She's even been loved by a good monster. It's not what she needs. I choose to remain as I am." William's face darkened in anger.

"So you choose to remain as you are? Remain less than a man? Less than a monster?"

"To remain as Buffy needs me to be."

"I don't understand." Spike laughed at how naive he had once been.

"There's no way you possibly could. You look at her and you only see a beautiful girl, someone for whom poetry is written and songs are sung. I look at her and I see...well, I see a beautiful girl, brilliant and good and brave...and a killer." He began to walk back into the lobby, William trailing behind in bewilderment.

"But...you do love her."

"Of course I do. Always will. I'm not the only one. The girl's well-loved. And she's a good Slayer, saved the world more than her share. But there's another side to her. There's a part that revels in the hunt, the fight, the ecstasy and beauty and power of death. I'm betting the Powers know all about that. She may be their instrument against evil in the world, but the power they've given her comes from darkness. We all know it. The difference is that her friends, her family, they all want to deny it. Buffy can't, not deep down. She knows what she is. She knows there's a place inside where we're alike. It's what she hates about me. And it's what I love about her." He reached the front door of the theatre and hesitated, turning back to William, who was wringing his hands in confusion.

"But she's the Slayer. She's innately good." Spike nodded with a rueful smile.

"Of course. She's the light of the bleedin' world. But she still needs the darkness. That's my gift. I know it's not much, but no one else can give it to her, and that makes me feel a bit special. Goodbye, mate. See you in hell, or thereabouts."

"Where are you going?" William called after him.

"To get some smokes," Spike answered as he passed through the doorway and faded into oblivion.