Full Circle

Thranduil and Buffy reappeared on that same isle that she had visited earlier with Angel. Yet, this time, they had teleported outside a makeshift shelter constructed entirely from driftwood. The only thing inside the shack was a blue lounger made for two.

“Should we not be in Folkvang?” asked the Green-elf, as the Slayer led him toward the comfortable-looking seat.

“It’s not safe,” she replied, somewhat distantly. “Death is all we’ll find there.”

“Then Folkvang will soon fall,” he stated disheartened, settling down onto the lounger with Buffy.

“It will be the first of the mystical realms to be destroyed,” she replied in a solemn voice, “as it was foretold ages ago.”

“I would’ve liked to have gone there one last time,” he remarked wistfully, staring out at sea. For the first time ever, Thranduil felt the sudden calling of the sea, beckoning him to Aman to reunite with his wife and son after their long separation. At that moment, he realized that was why the Valië had brought him to that place, to awaken the desire to leave this world for another. That thought alone brought much sadness to his heart. He loved Middle-earth, even now, in the midst of war; for it was the only place the Green-elf had ever called home.

Thranduil turned his eyes toward the Slayer. She sat there, in silence, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, her bottom lip trembling.

“Oh, Bella,” he said, taking her hands in his. “What is it? Is it the vampire?”

She nodded. “I loved him, Thranduil,” she croaked.

“Come here, sweetheart,” said the Elf Lord, as he wrapped his arm consolingly around the Vala Queen’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “I imagine that must have been difficult for you. But your actions were justified. He murdered Olofin. That was an unforgivable act. To kill one so virtuous and pure… You did the right thing. You avenged the death of one whom we loved dearly.”

“I know,” she wept. “But I can’t help the way I feel. I’m a terrible person.”

“No, no you’re not,” he chastised. “Angelus was a despicable human being, and even more foul as a vampire.”

“But, he had a soul,” Buffy protested through her tears. “And… and I let the demons obliterate it.”

“And rightfully so, if you ask me,” replied the Green-elf. “Having a soul makes what he did even worse. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was killing a righteous man, a man that loved him as a brother. Remember that, Bella - Olofin trusted Angelus, he loved him, and, in the end, he was betrayed by him. There can be no forgiveness for such a deplorable act. None whatsoever!”

The Slayer knew deep in her heart that Thranduil was right, although, that didn’t lessen the pain that she felt. As she sobbed, she repeatedly reminded herself of one of Hammurabi’s laws from back in the day: ‘Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.’

After several minutes, the Vala Queen regained her composure. “I know you’re right,” she said, wiping away her tears. “I just can’t help but think about the good things Angel has done. He was trying to redeem himself…”

“And he failed,” interjected Thranduil sternly. “He did a lot more harm than good, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Maybe,” she answered, looking out at the darkened sea. Her thoughts went back to Paris, recalling the abominable things that the vampire had done. “What’s wrong with me, Thranduil?” she asked in a faint voice.

The Elf Lord fixed his empathetic grey eyes on Buffy. “I do not understand what you’re asking me?” he queried in his confusion.

“I’ve seen what Angelus has done, the heinous crimes he has committed against humanity… but I still loved him.” She turned her bleary gaze toward the Green-elf. “Even Cordy was repulsed by the visions you guys showed her… but I wasn’t… And I was there. I saw what he did with my own two eyes… What does that say about me? What kind of monster am I to love someone who has committed such atrocities?”

“You’re no monster! That’s nonsense!”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” she answered miserably.

“You’re letting your grief get the best of you, Bella,” continued Thranduil. “What’s done is done. Do not dwell on it any more. There are far more important things that you must contend with.”

“You’re right, again,” she replied, leaning her head against the elf’s shoulder. She fell quiet for several minutes. “I’m tired, Thranduil. I’m so tired,” she confessed weakly.

“Perhaps you should rest a while,” he suggested.

“No, there’s no time for that. Not now, any way,” she sighed. “I think I need to fill you in on how things are gonna go down.” She shifted upright, into the lotus position, facing the Green-elf. “You need to promise me, Thranduil, that what I’m about to tell you - you won’t share with anyone else, not until… it’s over.”

The Elf Lord’s brows darted up momentarily, his grey eyes twinkling with curiosity. He then held out his pinky. “I’ll pinky swear,” he announced, bringing a much needed smile to the Slayer’s face.

She fondly recalled the way they had kept their promises back in the days of Thranduil’s youth.

The Vala Queen and Elf Lord then linked their pinkies, as he vowed not to repeat anything she said until the war was over.

Buffy then revealed how the war would end, the fate of mankind as well as the evil ones that currently roamed freely within the vastness of Arda.

Thranduil sat there, raptly listening to the prophetic words of the Valië. His heart ached with sorrow at the impending loss in the world, yet Buffy was quick to give him hope that better days were on the way. A tear escaped the Green-elf’s eye when the Slayer finished speaking, nearly an hour later.

“Don’t,” she said, wiping the tear away. “You need to be strong, for me. I’m counting on you, Thranduil.” She caressed the smooth skin of his face. “We can do this.”

“Alright, Bella, alright.”

Buffy smiled before rising to her feet. She walked to the water’s edge, her eyes scanning the sandy shoreline in both directions. “Where is he?” he murmured under her breath.

Thranduil had ambled up from behind. He placed both hands on the Vala Queen’s shoulders, gently massaging them. “He’ll come,” he remarked, having noticed her eyes scanning the vast shoreline in search of the Vala of Water.

“I guess I’m too early,” she proclaimed, resting one of her hands on the elf’s. “Let’s return to Los Angeles,” she continued, glancing over her shoulder. “You can finally see the transformation Illyria has undergone. She’s beautiful!”

“Now, that’s something I’d like to see,” he remarked with an uneasy chuckle.

One minute they were standing by the sea, the next, they were standing within the lobby of the old Washington Mutual Bank.

Buffy’s brows shot upward when she saw Illyria, Spike and Gunn huddled in a circle, talking amongst themselves. Apparently, her daughter’s powers were returning to their full strength, and she had been able to break the spell that her mother had placed upon the trio. Not only that, but it would soon become clear that Illyria had taken it upon herself to reveal where the Slayer had taken Angel, and why.

“What’s this shit about you killing Angel?” snapped Gunn angrily, marching up to Buffy and Thranduil.

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you, Charles,” answered the Vala Queen in a calm voice.

“He was our leader,” Gunn barked in his outrage, “our link to the Powers That Be, who fought the good fight, whose only goal in this world was to make amends for his past. And then you come along, all high and mighty, and take everything away from him!” Charles towered over the Slayer, his nostrils flaring like a raging bull. “You were the one person in this entire world that he ever loved - and how do you repay him? You kill him!” He shook his head in disgust. “If anyone deserves to die, maybe it should be you… ”

“How dare you speak to Bella in that tone!” interjected a fuming Thranduil, who, in turn, towered over the mortal.

Buffy held her arm out, preventing the Green-elf from attacking the young man.

From across the room, Spike snickered at the scene unfolding before him, amused by Gunn’s audacity to confront the Goddess that had just killed her former lover without so much as a second thought. Foolish bloke, he thought to himself.

“That vampire, that you called leader, killed Bella’s son and my dear friend. You should be grateful that she showed him mercy, killing him quickly. If I had my way, I would’ve torture that son-of-a-bitch for next millennia. So mind your manners when in the presence of… ”

“Are you talking to me?!” Gunn shot back, cutting off Thranduil’s sentence. He balled his fists at his side, sizing up the elf. “I’ll kick your ass from here to Timbuktu.”

“Enough with the bravado,” said an annoyed Buffy.

“Stay out of this!” bellowed Gunn, glaring at the Slayer.

Buffy’s eyes widened, stunned by Charles’ behavior.

He and Thranduil then got into a verbal sparring match, one that would swiftly lead to fists if someone did not intervene.

“Oh, this is getting good,” remarked Spike excitedly, folding his arms across his chest, watching as each man hurled verbal insults at the another.

After a moment or two, Illyria shouted, “Enough!” in a commanding voice, as an invisible force sent each man stumbling backwards. “I will have no more of this incessant posturing!” she continued, approaching the group. “This is neither the time nor the place for such quarrels.”

“Yeah, Blue’s right,” spoke up Spike. “The world’s coming to an end. Surely, we shouldn’t be fighting.” He paused; a thoughtful expression came to his face. Grinning, he added, “On the other hand, it is the end of the world. Carry on then.”

“You’re not helping, Spike,” sighed the Slayer.

“Fuck this!” said a seething Gunn. “I’m outta here.”

The young man charged toward the front doors.

“If you leave, you will die,” the Slayer revealed, her eyes locked on Charles.

He spun around, walking backwards, as he said, “I don’t fucking care any more. You can take that whole Elect thing and shove it up your ass. I’d rather die than go anywhere with you.” He turned, heading toward the doors once again.

“All this over Angel?” muttered a baffled Buffy. Raising her voice, she added, “I’d think, Charles, that you’d want to see your baby sister again.”

The young man stopped in his tracks, his right hand on the cool aluminum handle of the door. “Alonna,” he uttered under his breath.

“If you walk out those doors, you won’t see her again. Ever!” declared the Vala Queen.

Charles remained frozen, his heart thumping wildly in his chest at the mere mention of his sister.

“That’s not a threat, Charles. It’s a promise,” the Slayer went on, slowly approaching the young man from behind. “This is my game, my rules. Alonna is waiting for you, longs to see you again.” She stopped. “I’m leaving it up to you. It’s your choice. You wanna run out there in the streets and die - fine by me. Or, do you wanna be pulled from this wretched world, and join your sister? I can arrange that, with a snap of my fingers. It’s your choice, Charles.”

The Vala Queen turned, heading back toward the others.

“Wait!” the young man said, slowly turning. His expression had softened, as had the tone of his voice. “You can really reunite us - me and my little sister?”

“Yes,” she replied. “That demon may have taken control of her body, but her soul, her soul resides in the Halls of my brother.”

Gunn stood there, thinking, reflecting on his life with Alonna. He regretted the fact that he hadn’t been there to stop that vamp, to stop it from changing his baby sister into a monster. That day had haunted him ever since, especially the harsh reality that it was he that had to put a stake through her heart. That was, by far, the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. And the thought of seeing her again, the real Alonna, the little girl that had followed him around as a child, was more than he could ask for.

“I wanna see my sister. I wanna see Alonna.”

“I thought so,” answered the Slayer, giving Gunn a quick smile. “Are you ready, Charles?”

His eyes scanned the room one last time, stopping momentarily on both Spike and Illyria. He then fixed his gaze on Buffy, and gave a slight nod of his head.

The Vala Queen spoke no commands, but a second later, Charles Gunn vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Well, then,” Buffy began with a clap of her hands. “That’s one down, one hundred forty-three thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine to go.”

“I like this new you, Slayer,” said Spike, circling Buffy as he nodded approvingly. Smiling broadly, he added, “You’ve gone all cheeky on me. I like that.” He stopped before her, looking all serious. “Just so you know, I was quite hospitable to Drogyn and Illyria here,” he continued, motioning toward the Old One. “Had them both over to my flat to watch the telly, drink some beer, play some video games. And I never fed off either one of them. Just thought I’d let you know that since you seem to be in vengeance mode.”

“I know, Spike.”

“Was ever a mate to your son,” he rambled on, not wanting to meet the same fate as Angel. “He was a decent bloke. Never said a bad word to the old chap… ”

“Now you’re pushing your luck,” warned the Slayer.

Thranduil stepped before Illyria, his grey eyes keenly inspecting Buffy’s eldest.

She warily watched the Elf Lord with her steely blue eyes.

“Illyria,” he said with a nod of his head.

She cocked her head to the side, staring at Thranduil. “You are an elf, are you not?”

“I am,” he replied with yet another nod of his head.

“I had forgotten how tall your kind are,” she observed.

Before responding, the Elf Lord glanced at the Slayer, who nodded encouragingly to her old friend.

He sighed heavily, dropping onto one knee before Illyria. “I am Thranduil Greenleaf, Lord of Eryn Lasgalen…” The elf glanced at Buffy once again.

Using only her eyes, she prodded him to go on.

Thranduil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, finding this moment difficult, to say the least. He fixed his gaze back on Illyria. “I am humbly at your service, o’ Holy One. You shall lead, and I will follow.” He then took her hand and kissed the top of it.

“What is this, some sort of Keebler courting ritual?” snickered Spike. “Oh, God, I think I’m gonna be sick!”

The Vala Queen elbowed the vampire in the ribs.

“Ow! What did you do that for?” whined Spike, rubbing his side. “I’m only making a bloody observation. Free speech still exists… well, at least in this building.”

“A word, Spike,” said Buffy with an air of warning in her voice.

“I believe you just had three.”

“Stop being a doofus and come with me,” she ordered, heading toward one of the vacant offices.

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch,” he grumbled, following behind.

“You two can get reacquainted,” Buffy said over her shoulder to Thranduil and Illyria.

“We’ve never met before, Bella,” replied the uncomfortable Green-elf.

“You just did!” she answered. “I just need a few minutes with Spike. I won’t be long.”

Thranduil turned his attention to the Old One. “So,” he began apprehensively, his eyes scanning her bodily form. “I’ve got to say, I like your choice of hröa. You’re quite lovely without all the tentacles… ”

Spike took off after Buffy, his blue eyes focused on the tight, black mini-skirt that clung to her backside. He let out a startled gasp when he saw her clothing instantly change from the form-fitting skirt and tank top to tight red leather pants and a black sweater.

He inhaled, as if to speak, but Buffy blurted out, “I was chilly,” before he could pose his question about the sudden change of her garments.

“If you’re cold, I can warm you up,” he remarked suggestively with a sly grin on his face.

“Why do you have to be such a pig?” she responded with disdain.

“Just saying… ”

“God, I’m beginning to think I killed the wrong one,” she grumbled under her breath.

When she stepped into an empty office, the fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered on, despite the lack of electricity.

“Why don’t you have a seat,” began the Vala Queen, taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

“Don’t mind if I do,” answered Spike, plopping down on the chair that now seemed too close to the Slayer.

Noticing that the vampire’s line of vision was now fixed between her legs, she snorted in disgust, as she placed her foot on the edge of his chair, pushing it backwards.

Sensing Buffy’s discomfort, Spike snickered as his chair screeched across the marble floor.

“You’re the one putting it in my face, love.”

The Slayer sneered, making a point to immediately cross her legs once she was satisfied that there was enough space separating the two.

“Why do you have to make things so difficult? You don’t always have to be the horn-dog, you know.”

“What can I say? I’m in the presence of the Goddess of Love - isn’t this the way I’m supposed to act?” he replied, his brow raised in question.

“Pfft,” she sounded, rolling her eyes. “I must’ve envisioned this scene in my mind a hundred times. I guess I never considered that you’re the X-factor, ‘cause this isn’t going the way I expected.”

“Unlike your Scooby friends - I’m unpredictable,” he boasted.

“Ain’t that the truth,” she sighed. Buffy shook her head. “I’ve brought you in here for a reason.”

“Well, I suppose it’s not for a quick shag.”

“Will you stop with the shagging talk already?!” exclaimed the exasperated Valië. “Jeez! I’m beginning to think that I offed the wrong vamp.”

“Nah,” he replied, placing a foot on either side of the Slayer and leaning his chair back on two legs. “You killed the right one. Angel was the mopey type, and we don’t need his kind in the world now, do we?”

“Angel died because he killed my son,” said Buffy in the utmost of serious voices. “The one thing in this world I won’t tolerate is someone fucking with my children.”

Spike chortled. “Look at you - all mum-like. I would never have guessed in a million years that you were Blue’s mum.” He cocked his head to the side. “But now that I think about it, I can see a lot of similarities. Not all are good, mind you.”

“Let’s cut to the chase here,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “You know about that whole Shanshu thing, don’t you?”

The vampire’s eyes lit up. He dropped his feet to the floor; the chair’s legs hit the marble surface with a thud, as he sat at attention. “Yeah, what about it?” he asked warily.

“Well, I’m here to fulfill it, to make you mortal… ”

“I knew it!” he exclaimed in delight, slapping a hand on the arm of the chair. “I knew I was the one that the bloody prophecy was about!” He paused, relishing the moment. “I only wish Angel were here, to gloat a bit. Rub it in his face.”

“I wasn’t finished speaking!” Buffy chastised.

“There’s nothing left to say, is there?” replied a smiling Spike. He stretched his arms out wide, adding, “Alright then, make me human.”

“It’s not that simple,” she answered, both her tone and expression grave.

The smiled quickly faded from the vampire’s face. “What?” he asked in dismay. “Do I have to go through more bloody trials? Get my ass kicked by a band of demons or whatnot?”

“No,” she replied. “You need to think about this. You need to think about what this means. Becoming mortal again means that you’re susceptible to a mortal’s death. You won’t have the same strength you’ve grown accustomed to. You won’t be able to heal quickly. Your reflexes won’t be the same. You can die by disease, by bullets, by poisonous gases… ”

“I don’t care about all that, Buffy,” interjected Spike, leaning forward in his seat. It was now he that became all serious. “I want to be human again. I’ve been around the sods long enough to know how fragile life is. I want to feel my heart beat again, to taste food, to have a cold. The things that humans take for granted - I want! I want to experience those things. Don’t think that I haven’t thought about this. From the moment I learned about that whole Shanshu Prophecy, I dreamed of it being about me. I don’t need to wait. I don’t need time to think things over. I’m ready. I’ve been ready for nearly two centuries. Shanshu me, Slayer, I’m ready.”

The Vala Queen stared into the vampire’s blue eyes, searching the depths of his soul. She could see that he spoke the truth, that he was ready.

“You’re a good man, Spike,” she said with a smile, sliding off the desk and onto her feet.

He rose from his chair too. His eyes alight with excitement.

“I take it that you’ve made your mind up then,” she continued softly.

“Yes,” he answered breathlessly. “I’m ready. I was born ready.”

“So be it,” she replied. Buffy raised her hand and placed it on the vampire’s chest. She closed her eyes, summoning forth her magics. A blinding white light emitted from her palm, followed by the sudden thumping of Spike’s heart.

“I feel it! I feel my heart beating,” he proclaimed joyfully.

“I do too,” she answered, meeting Spike’s eyes. “Welcome back, William.”

“I’M BACK, BABY!” he exclaimed in his excitement. The newly made human placed his hand over his heart. “Thump, thump, thump, thump,” he said rapidly, mimicking his heartbeat. “I can’t believe it - I’m human!” He fixed his eyes on Buffy. “I… I don’t know how to thank you, Buffy,” he said sincerely.

“You just did,” she replied with a smile. “Although,” she began, as she started toward the door, “someone once told me that prophecies can be tricky creatures, that they don’t always tell you everything.”

Spike stood there for a moment, trying to process her words. “What in the hell does that mean?” he queried, chasing after her. “Buffy?”

She stopped at the edge of the lobby. Turning, she faced Spike with a mischievous grin on her face. “You’ll see, love. You’ll see.” She then turned, walking toward Illyria and Thranduil. “Okay, guys, it’s about time for us to go. We gotta collect the rest of the Elect.”

“Hey! Wait a minute!” cried out Spike, catching up with the Slayer.

“What is it now, William?” she said with a sigh. “I gave you mortality. What more do you ask of me?”

“Aren’t I coming with you? I’m human now. I figured I was part of that Elect thing. You know, take me off the earth before it implodes, or explodes, whichever the case may be.”

“Sorry, William, but the Elect were chosen specifically for their bloodlines. Your name’s not on the list.” She started across the lobby toward Illyria and Thranduil once again. “You’re resilient. You’ll find your place in this world.” When she reached her daughter and dear friend, she took each one by the hand. Looking at Spike one last time, she added with a smile, “Your time’s gonna come. Take care, William.”

She and her companions then vanished from the lobby, leaving a dumbfounded Spike behind.

“Women!” he muttered, heading toward the front doors of the lobby. He stepped outside under the cover of darkness, inhaling deeply. He then coughed. The results of all those years of smoking seemed to finally be catching up to him.

Shrugging it off, he started down the sidewalk, his mind spinning from his newfound fate. Today was the first day of the rest of his life. It was a great thing. Everything seemed so different, even though it was still the same. The flowers smelled more fragrant, the air cleaner. There was only one thing that Spike wanted more than anything else in this world - to see the sun, to feel its glorious, golden rays shining down on his pale skin.

I can get a tan, he thought as various vehicles went passing by. If only the bloody sun would come back out.

He looked up to where the sun should have been in the pitch-black sky, as he reached into his pocket for his smokes. Preoccupied with his thoughts and lighting his cigarette, Spike didn’t realize that he had reached the intersection. As he inhaled deeply, he stepped into the street, directly in front of a speeding Humvee.

At the last possible moment, he turned. Blinded by the headlights of the vehicle, his final epithet as a living human being forming on his lips, he was plowed down by the Humvee. Not eight minutes had passed since his transformation.

His fey then rose from his mangled corpse, shocked by the sudden turn of events. ‘Bloody hell!’ he remarked at his misfortune. Feeling himself being drawn toward the West, and shaking his fist in the air, he shouted, ‘I’LL GET YOU FOR THIS, SLAYER!’