6. Down the Rabbit Hole

"Spike!" Buffy kicked the crypt door open and called out again. "Spike! Where the hell are you? Come on... patrol!" She imitated his North London accent, badly. "Spot of violence before bedtime?" A soft light flickered across the ceiling through the opening to the lower level. Buffy rolled her eyes, a strained look seizing her features in remembrance before lowering herself onto the ladder. Moisture clung to the air around her, and as she dropped to the dirt and cement floor the scent of burnt-out candles assailed her nostrils.

"Spike?"

In the dim light, she could see a motionless figure face down amongst the shadows. He wasn't moving. Buffy reached out a hand to turn him over, hoping to shake him awake. Spike didn't stir when she rolled him onto his back, but she saw his swollen eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. It only made her shake him harder. Nothing. She shook him again, shouting his name. At a loss for what to do, she reared her arm back and let a punch fall square on his nose. His body twitched at the impact, but Spike didn't rouse or even blink. Blood trickled lazily from his left nostril and down over his lips.

"Okay. Now you're freaking me out. Just... stay here."

Buffy turned and took the ladder in quick strides, breaking into a run across the cemetery grounds. Giles. Giles would know what to do.

*****

Huddled in a cold corner, he wept. Tears fell across his cheeks and wet his hands with a salty sting. So much blood. He kept his back pressed against the wall, feeling rather than seeing the parade of macabre spectres dance before him. And every one had a mother, a sister who loved and mourned them and their passing. Decked out in a short sailor dress, complete with a smart cap, a small girl not more than five-years-old sucked on a lollipop beside him. Her hair, a deep auburn color streaked blonde by the sun, fell across her shoulders and halfway down her back, shining and perfect... reminded him of Dawn. Sticky fingers touched his arm, the skin cold and clammy with death. She leaned closer.

"My mummy will miss me," she whispered. "Can you help me find her? I lost my way and it's so dark."

He had to look at her, face her. When he opened his eyes, she was hovering inches from him, breathing rotten breath, twin puncture marks marring her tender neck. If possible, he pushed himself further into the corner. The sailor dress was gone, and in its place something very frilly, lacy, and Victorian. Dru had wanted to turn her. Keep her as a pet. Her own unliving doll to dress up and coo over. Even then he couldn't do it. In the days he would do anything for his black princess, he wouldn't let her keep the child. It was then he started buying the dolls. All of them named after the girl as if to remind him every day that he had once denied her something.

And he saw, felt every day of her young life...just as she had lived it. Simple things like her teddy and falling asleep on her father's lap as he read her a story.

"So you see, William. This is where it began." Hearing Dru's voice, the swift decisive inflection of the woman, the being who borrowed her form, broke him. Spike crumbled, wrapping his arms around his knees.

She spoke again. "This is where it all changed. And for some reason, this girl was special. Though you would deny it six ways from Sunday back then, you felt sorry for her, and even a bit guilty. Oh you explained things with cold rationality at the time. 'Have enough to take care of with Dru. Don't need her around mucking things up for us.'" The woman shifted, sitting down before him, resting her hands upon her knees.

"Perhaps it was the trust in her eyes when she took your hand, or the fact that when she smiled she looked like your own sister. Suppose it doesn't matter much, now. I only wanted to show you just how long a process this has all been. So that you would know."

Standing, she stared down at him and sighed. She hefted him to his feet and leaned him against the wall, bracing him so he wouldn't slide back down.

"This is just preparation. If you don't find the answers soon, we'll be seeing quite a lot more of each other. As it is you've wasted unnecessary time, and though I'm fond of you, I really don't care to spend eternity tormenting you."

He made an unintelligible noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh. "Answers, eh? If you haven't noticed, I'm not the smartest bloke around so why don't you just spill. I'm bloody tired. And this?" Spike waved a weak hand at the air. "Not my idea of a good time."

"Nor mine." She began to back away from him, fading until she was only a ghost of a presence and a whisper. "The past is only the first challenge you must face. Knowing will only weigh your heart until you find the true purpose. Trust in that."
 

*****

Buffy worried her lower lip with her teeth, cupping a steaming mug of tea between her hands, courtesy of Giles. She wasn't drinking it, but the warmth felt good against her skin. Calming. Comforting. It was as close as she could get to having Mom back. When Spike stirred on the couch, she didn't notice at first, her attention was focused at a nothing outside the window. Only when he sat up did she turn.

"Bloody hell." He pressed a hand to his temple in an attempt to ease the throbbing. Noticing his surroundings, Spike's brow furrowed. "What..." He turned to Buffy in confusion. "Why is it I keep waking up somewhere else than where I fell asleep?"

She shrugged. "Too much alcohol?"

"Haven't been drinking, pet."

"Well, maybe not...but you were definitely passed out or something."

"And immediately you thought, 'Hmm. I'll just drag Spike all the way across town to the Watcher's house'? I have passed out before, you know. I think I'm capable of handling it on my own."

"That's so not what this is about, although I got kinda wigged when you wouldn't wake up. I even punched you."

Spike's hand drifted to his nose, feeling it tender and stinging as the bones knit themselves back together. "What is it with you and the nose, love? How many times have you broken mine, yet you never seem get enough?"

"Spike..." Buffy set her mug on the table beside her, drawing herself up straight, and sighed softly. "Really not the time. I'll tell Giles you're up. He wanted to talk to you. Some big prophecy thing." She stood and went to wake the watcher where he'd dozed off at the table buried elbow deep in books. Laying a soft hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle shake, she called his name.

"Giles. Giles, come on. Spike's awake." His head popped up from its resting place, glasses perched at a crooked angle on his nose. Straightening them, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, just in case a droplet of moisture had crept out in his sleep.

"Oh...um, good. I suppose I should fill him in on the details before he has another lapse then." Giles gathered the texts in his arms and shuffled over to an armchair, Buffy in tow. Spike watched him; he looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

"So, I'm guessing you figured something out. Took you long enough."

"Spike..." Their voices, filled with aggravation, urged the vampire to silence.

Giles began. "I suppose it did take me awhile to find the proper texts. As I had nowhere to begin save the symbol you described in such detail. What I found is a bit disturbing." Spike's body tensed in reaction to the words.

"No...really?" He faked a shocked expression for a moment before his features hardened. "That disturbing bit has found its way inside my head, crawling around like it owns the place. I give bugger all how much this all disturbs you; because being bothered by it ain't gonna change a thing. Bothers me, but that hasn't done anything up to this point but make me right pissed off. On with it then."

Giles sighed and pushed every bit of sincerity he had into his voice. "Spike, I know that this has been difficult for you, and what I'm about to tell you will probably not make it any easier. I'm asking you to try to listen without getting defensive. As you've already said, it won't help anything."

Spike nodded, making an effort to hold his tongue at least until the watcher had said his piece. Buffy curled up on the floor, chin resting on her knees and coiled her arms around herself tightly. She was glad that Giles had already explained things to her, and that she had been able to provide the information that proved to be the final piece of the big prophecy puzzle. She just didn't know how Spike was going to take it.

Giles was nothing if long-winded, and it seemed he would be wasting a lot of wind tonight. Pulling Celestial Symbolism into his lap, he opened it to a book-marked page then passed the text to the vampire for confirmation.

"This is the symbol you described, correct?"

Spike nodded again after glancing at the image and returned the book to Giles.

"Right then." The watcher took a deep breath and opened the second volume. "Time for a bit of a history lesson. This symbol is the mark of an ancient triad of guardians. They were entrusted with a burden no earthly being should have to shoulder, and so were given immortality...at a price. They were rendered ineffectual, shades in this and every other dimension, only permanently habiting the world between sleep and waking. Allowed to watch and suggest a course of action, but not directly interfere."

"Sounds like your type of people, Watcher," Spike interrupted. Giles ignored his flip comments, pressing onward.

"When the universe was young all things existed in one dimension. Hell, heaven, mortal, immortal. You can imagine the chaos, I'm sure. A high council came together in an attempt to bring order to the world. It was decided that existence would be split, segmented. The beasts would have their paradise hell and the angelic beings their heaven. And though there must always be balance between them, and their paths forever linked, no one would interfere with the other. When the dimensions were created a group of three was brought before the council: one demon, one heavenly being, and one mere mortal. They were bound to each other and given their gift."

"So, they decided to make dimensions and gave these guardian types some kind of present. I still don't understand what this rot has to do with me."

"Spike, the gift they were entrusted with was the means to restore things to their former state...the one item that would undo all the council had done." The vampire's eyes widened in recognition.

"Dawn."

"Well yes. The Key to be more exact about it. If I may continue?"

Spike nodded, completely speechless. Buffy eyed him, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked absolutely bewildered, not an adjective she ever thought she could apply to him. Giles tried to fill in the blanks.

"Over the years, some small punctures were made between dimensions. One of which exists right here in Sunnydale. The hellmouth. The peace the council had hoped would endure was upset as demons found a way to inflict themselves on the mortal realm, even a few heavenly creatures tried to infiltrate and destroy hell in their self-righteous way. The balance was faltering. Walls made to be solid were becoming more transparent as beings forgot about the ages-old pact. Glory remembered. She also didn't care. You must remember that the monks were only the physical guardians of the Key. The three still observed and suggested as much as they could. I believe that to be part of the reason Dawn was created. In human form, the Key's power could be harnessed, lessened in a way. The blood would eventually stop, whereas living energy would last forever and the dimensional walls permanently obliterated."

"Watcher, as fascinating as this all is, I'm still at a loss. Nothing in there about these gits taunting me in my dreams."

"Yes, well. I have a question for you, to sate my curiosity."

"Alright."

"Before the battle with Glory, did you experience dreams? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Spike struggled to remember the weeks before the final confrontation. While he was lost in his memories, Buffy retrieved a bottle of bourbon, two glasses, and a bottle of water for herself from Giles' kitchen. She poured a glass for her watcher and the vampire and set them on the coffee table, earning a grateful smile from the older man. When she curled back up on the floor, Spike finally began to speak.

"Dunno. Once, I guess. Thought it was just a memory of sorts. Visions of my past...at least until I saw the Nibblet's face. I'd never do that to her, I knew it then, know it now. So I just ignored it."

"Never do what, Spike?" When she spoke, Buffy's voice felt scratchy against her throat.

He stared at the floor, not daring to meet her eyes as he said it. "Feed from her."

"As I thought." Giles' words filled the air that was already thick with tension. He drew a parchment from the stack of books and laid it on the coffee table with careful hands. "This...is where you fit in." The watcher bent his head to recite the words of the prophecy. "Being born to light, demon bred to darkness, reinvented by circumstance and sacrifice. Thrice will the Key infuse him. Thrice will he be renewed. The Coriolis. The fulcrum. The one to collapse time upon itself and see all things in one moment. Only he will know and wield the true power of the divine instrument – balance."

Spike looked more bewildered than before. "You don't actually think..."

"I do." Giles supplied, leaning back in his chair, waiting for the torrent of questions. It never came, and the vampire slipped into a sullen silence, obviously waiting for an explanation. "I believe the first dream was their way of compelling you to do what was needed."

"What?" Spike snarled. "They want me feed off the Bit? Sorry, not going to happen." He pulled a shaky hand through his hair. What he wouldn't give for a cigarette.

Buffy rolled her eyes and snorted in an unladylike fashion. "You already did, moron."

With that, his head snapped up. "I bloody well did not. Chip, remember?" Spike gestured towards his head.

"You didn't bite her, no...but you did drink her blood, up on the tower." She glared at
him, almost daring him to contradict her.

All she heard was a subdued, "Oh," from him and then Giles continued.

"I think these dreams are a result of the fact the ritual has yet to be completed. You must 'imbibe' of the Key two more times." Spike and Buffy both started to protest, but he stopped them with a firm glance. "I know I didn't speak to you about this before Buffy, because I was hoping to find another way. I don't like the idea of Spike feeding from Dawn any more than you do, but in the case it is a very necessary evil."

Spike bolted from his place on the couch and made for the door without another word. The walls shook with the sheer force of the slamming door.

"Well, that went well," Giles muttered. Buffy glared at him, pinning him down with her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"As I said, I was hoping to find another way."

"Well, keep looking. There has to be something else, Giles. I just can't...I won't..."

"Buffy, I've scoured every text I can think of. The only way is to complete the ritual. Any other course of action...it would mean essentially signing Spike's death warrant."

"What?"

"If he does not finish what he started, the dreams will overtake him. He'll slip into a constant stasis, unable to feed, unable to wake. And though he won't die, one of us will likely be forced to make the decision to put him out of his misery. Tonight was the first sign that the situation is already precarious. You couldn't wake him. And that will be a permanent state of affairs unless we do what is necessary." Giles retrieved his glass of bourbon from the coffee table, downing it in one large gulp.

For her part, Buffy stared at her hands, where they twisted at each other in her lap. She was beginning to think that her attempt to straighten things out in her head was an exercise in futility.

"I know this is hard. I know that you don't even want to think about it. But you also know his purpose...what he will be when the time comes. He will be a formidable ally, and more importantly, it will be his job to care for Dawn. Buffy, there's so much we haven't been able to uncover about your sister. Spike will have the answers."

Tears sprang to her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks in a flood. So much. Too much. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start."

"Talk to him. Tell him his purpose. Since he's already immortal, that part of the news should at least be easy to take. As for being Dawn's guardian, I think in a way he already is." He removed his glasses and rubbed them furiously. "I myself don't know what to make of the rest of it, and I'm quite sure he won't either."

"Giles...I..."

He interrupted her before she could get any further. "He is the balance point, Buffy...the fulcrum between good and evil. And when it's over, he'll have full knowledge of past, present, and future events. At least, I believe that's what the prophecy means. I'm certain it will take some time for him to adjust."

Buffy held her head in her hands, staring at the floor in front of her. She tried to incorporate all this new information with ease, but it wasn't working. Not one bit.

Giles spoke again, trying desperately to reach her. "Look at me." She obliged, raising her eyes to meet her watchers'. "Go to him. You're the only one who has any concept of what he's going through. What it means to be chosen. What it's like to have your life ripped from your hands and set adrift by fate. Just...try."

All she could do was nod in response, and after a few moments she slipped out the front door without another word.