harsens_rob (harsens_rob) wrote in spanderverse,

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End Chapter of Battling with a God

Disclaimer: Legal stuff, don't own characters, haven't made any money, this is for entertainment purposes, no profit earned, lawyers go away. –kisses-

Emails are welcome as are honest reviews. I respond to all correspondence.

POV: Shifts Perspective

Spoiler Alert: There are tidbits from past episodes and especially the Spanderverse series.

Notes: Story number Nineteen in the Spanderverse-universe, following “Songs of Pain and Comfort”. Everything from the television series through the defeat of Adam also occurred as depicted, in the Spanderverse.

People’s thoughts are depicted in italics. You’ll find emphasis depicted with an underline.

More Notes: BIG thanks to Joss, the ME creative team and the crew of one of the best shows on television. WE MISS YOU!  And THANK YOU JOSS and DH COMICS for Buffy: Season 8 and Angel: After the Fall.

Thanks to the authors of Fanfiction, wherever you may post. It’s probable that I’ve read at least one of your stories somewhere. I apologize for recycling concepts inadvertently from the plentitude of stories I’ve read.



Battling with a God

Ch 28 – Burial Rites


Tara hummed softly to herself as she went about her task. She tried not to think about what she was doing and who she had under her hands. She wasn’t sure she could continue, otherwise. She was brushing out Buffy’s long hair, placing a portion into a bowl of water then washing with shampoo, placing the hair into another bowl to rinse and brushing it out again, before moving on to the next small handful. She had to dump and replace the rinse water after each portion, slowing things down a bit.


She’d just finished another bit. She had dipped the comb into a small dish of vanilla-scented oil and was now combing out the wet hair. When it dried, it would be nice and straight and the scent would cling to it. It was a ritual they’d performed in Petit Crique to her Great Grandmother on her father’s side when she’d passed at age 118. And they’d performed the same ritual to her dad’s mother when she’d passed at 92; two years after that.


Behind her, she heard the basement door open and close. The scent of coffee drifted to her as the footsteps came closer.


Willow placed the cup next to her on a makeshift stand. She then took one of Buffy’s hands and began to clean under her nails.


“You don’t have to do that, Willow. I can handle it,” Tara said low. It seemed disrespectful somehow to break the silence with words.


“I know. But Buffy did so much for me,” she said, her eyes already filled with tears again. “Including saving my life from the Master’s flunkies before I even knew what was going on here. I want to do this for her,” she gave Tara the milder and softer version of the ‘resolve face’.


“How are you doing,” Tara asked after she’d kissed her forehead.


“Exhausted. We’ve had so little sleep, running from Glory and dealing with everything. But I’m okay. I mean, I’m sad… really sad. But, this is almost easier than Joyce’s death in a weird way. Maybe it’s because that just happened and I’m on overload right now, or maybe it’s ‘cause in the back of my brain I knew that Buffy would die being the Slayer. I’m more worried about Dawnie. Her mom and sister right next to each other,” Willow sniffled and took a moment to grab the box of tissues that Tara had made sure she brought down. It was already half emptied and it’d been a new box when she had started.


“Yeah. But she has us. And, Spike. I hope that Xander wasn’t planning on having him to himself anytime soon,” Tara gave a small smile. “I don’t think Spike is going to let Dawn out of his sight for awhile.”


“Weird, isn’t it? I mean, Spike tried to kill us a few times. He even threatened to bite me in my dorm room when Buffy and I were rooming together. Good thing he had the chip at that point. Now, I’m hoping he and my best friend are going to make it as a couple.”


“It is strange. But it’s a good strange. I like Spike. And I think he’ll be good for Dawn. He has a lot of inner strength she can rely on.”


Willow had finished under Buffy’s nails. She took a file and began to scrape against them.


“Buffy hated what Slaying did to her fingernails,” she gave a small, but sad laugh. “She wanted so badly for us to go to a spa or something and get our nails done, but she didn’t want them to be ruined before she got her money’s worth of enjoyment out of it.”


“I’m almost done with her hair. I haven’t really given any thought to what to do with it. Do you think leaving it straight would be okay? I could run to the dorm for a curler?”


“No… it’s fine. I think Dawn is taking a nap. When she wakes up, we’ll talk to her about a dress and shoes.”


“We should probably hold off on makeup until then. I was just going to apply a little bit, something really understated around her eyes and on her lips,” Tara said.


“Okay,” Willow said. “I finished the scrying with Giles and Anya and we found the spot.” She looked up and saw Tara give her a nod indicating she’d heard. They continued working in silence.




“How’re you doing, Spike,” Xander said, cupping the side of his face briefly before dropping his hand back to the table.


“Breathing still hurts,” he said. “Rib injuries are always a bit of a bitch.”


“We’ll get you some blood later.”


“No worries. Think we should leave Dawn alone upstairs?”


“I’m sure she’ll be alright,” Giles interjected. “I believe we should do the burial late tonight. Without properly preparing the body, it should be buried as quickly as possible.”


“What about a casket,” Xander asked.


“That has been arranged already. The Council has a pre-arrangement with a black market dealer in town. It’s standard operating procedure when they know the area a Slayer will be calling ‘home base’. I will call and pick it up as soon as darkness falls,” he said.


“Won’t that blow the secret we mean to keep quiet,” Spike said.


“It’s a demon. The one we’ll be procuring the coffin from? It’s a demon.”


“Doesn’t that make it more risky,” Xander questioned.


But Giles was meeting Spike’s gaze. An understanding seemed to pass between them.


“I’ll go with the Watcher to pick it up. We can… work something out.”


“But… the risk? If he doesn’t stay quiet?”


“Xan,” Spike gave him an icy grin, “It won’t be an issue. We’ll deal with it. Dawn wants a headstone,” he said, purposely changing the topic.


“I’m not sure that’s wise,” Giles said, but didn’t exactly object.


“It’s not. But it’s what she wants,” Spike conceded. “And it’s what the Slayer deserves.”


“Yes,” Giles said.


Neither of the others was sure if he was agreeing to the headstone, or just that Buffy deserved one.


“I tried to talk to her about it,” Xander said. “But she did that thing; the one where she looks at you and it’s like she’s not fifteen anymore. For just a second there was something in her eyes, like she was as old as the universe. I couldn’t argue with her after that. Especially, since I agree with her.”


“We’ll get one. To avoid suspicion, we may need to order a rough tablet of granite and do the carving ourselves. Is that something that you can do,” Giles asked of Xander.


“Yeah… yeah, I can do it. Uh, I may need some smaller practice stones to carve on first. I don’t think I could stand having to cross out a mistake on Buff’s stone. God,” Xander closed his eyes and turned his face up toward the ceiling. He shook his head, “I can’t believe we have to talk about this. I can believe that she’s….” he stopped, being unable to finish.


“I know,” Giles said. He was dying for a drink.




It was hours after dark and Giles stood waiting in an abandoned warehouse for their contact. Spike stood nearby, smoking a cigarette and sipping from a Styrofoam cup of rapidly cooling cow’s blood.


“You sure you’re ready for this,” the vampire asked.


“Killing demons doesn’t bother me. As I’m sure you’re aware. It’s what the Council does, after all.”


“The shits you work for don’t care. But you don’t fool me Rupert,” Giles looked at him with surprise at the almost gentle tone in his voice. “I think you feel every single death. I think if you could make demons stop killing people overnight, nothing would make you happier. Not to save them, though that’s a part of it, but because you’d like to not kill ever again.”


“I am fine with tonight’s plan,” Giles said. “After all a murderer hardly grieves for those he kills, now does he?”


“’Murderer’ is a funny term to use for your line of work.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete floor and reached for his pack. His hand froze when he heard Giles’ whisper, voice filled with self-loathing and guilt.


“I killed Ben, the mortal that was hosting Glory.”


Spike cleared his throat, but Giles refused to look at him. “Glory had to be killed. Sad thing that Ben bloke also had to die in the process, but the important thing was killing Glory.”


Giles did meet his eyes then, “Glory was submerged again. Ben was present. He was hurt and helpless and I smothered him. I-I felt I had to… that it was necessary.”


“You don’t have to explain to me. You did the right thing, Giles. We both know the god wouldn’t have stayed gone. She would have been back for revenge and she’d have killed them all. Even Dawn just for the spite of it; a big ‘fuck you’ to Buffy for winning.”


“Then why don’t I feel ‘right’,” he asked rhetorically. “I don’t wish the others to know. It would be better if they believe that Glory died when Buffy closed the gate.”


“I always suspected you could be as dangerous to Dru and me as the Slayer, herself. Thought I judged it wrong when Angelus had you tied to that chair. But I see my first instinct was the true one, you’ll do whatever it takes.”


“It would be wise that you remember that,” Giles said, glancing at him to meet his eyes again. “Because, if you hurt Xander or Dawn- either through inaction, maliciousness or accident, I will kill you.”


There were no further chances at more words when they heard a car pull up to the warehouse. Both tensed. They knew that these things could quickly turn sour, even in the most innocuous of times.


There was the sound of a shutting car door and then a Brachen demon entered the warehouse. He appeared a bit skittish at first, hesitating at the entrance when he saw the human and vampire waiting for him.


“I have the object,” he said. “I will help you load it.”


“Thank you,” Giles said, even managing a small smile. He waved to Spike to follow as they went outside.


There idled an old pick up truck. In the back of this was a long pine box, expertly glazed and polished. It had handles of dark maple, also highly polished. On the top of the lid, fastened, was a simple brass placard waiting to be engraved.


“With more time, I could have made it far more elaborate and beautiful,” the Brachen said. “But you did state it was needed immediately.”


“Yes, and I appreciate your rushing it,” Giles said. The Brachen kept glancing nervously at Spike.


“Spike, if you would place it into the back seat and tie it down, please,” he said.


“I believe the amount we agreed upon was… $650 dollars?”


“Yes, it was. Here,” Giles began to count out fifty dollar bills and then placing them into the demons hand one by one. He purposely allowed the breeze to catch the eighth one.


As expected the demon immediately lunged to keep the bill from fluttering away. Giles took the opportunity to drop his remaining money to the ground and replace them with a small black dagger from within his inside jacket pocket. The ebony blade dripped with a red liquid, which he was very careful not to allow to come into contact with his skin.


The demon must have sensed something was wrong, because its head whipped around to look at Giles. He didn’t have time to straighten his stooped posture and defend himself as the Watcher plunged the short blade into the demon’s back, following this with another strike of the blade to the back of the neck.


The red liquid took affect nearly instantaneously, poisoning the creature and stopping all brain activity. It fell heavily to the ground without making a single sound.


Giles slipped the knife back into its special holding sheath within his jacket pocket. He would get rid of both as well as any left over poison in the morning. Even if the demon had partners and they came looking to see what had happened to him, there would be no evidence for them to find. Giles already knew certain incantations that would allow any lies related to the incident tonight to be accepted as truth. And he’d made sure to stress to this demon how much of a secret his needing the casket was; it was unlikely he would have risked his relationship with the Council by sharing the news with anyone else. Now, they could be sure that the temptation to gossip would not become too much.


He’d done what he needed to do. Again.


“I will drive the car back. You get rid of the body and this truck,” he eyed Spike coldly. “Need I tell you how displeased I would be if you botch this, or try to blackmail me later?”


“Who are you, Giles,” Spike asked. He’d never seen the Watcher like this before. He’d never even sensed such… darkness in him. He thought of the magic he’d wielded just… yesterday? And wondered just how badly it had touched him.


“I’m… an ex-Watcher,” Giles said, deflated. He suddenly looked like an old, broken man to Spike, but he’d never believe the illusion again.


“I’ll take care of this mess. You talk to Tara and Willow about a purification ritual. I think that dark magic might have done more damage than you think.”


“I’ll consider your words. After we’ve buried my Slayer and I know the other children are alright.”


After Giles had left, Spike with a sigh, loaded the corpse of the demon into the flatbed. He’d ditch it where no one would ever find either the body or the truck, but first he had a stop to make. He’d made a promise to a girl and he needed to see if their wreck was still out on the lonely road from Sunnydale.




When he arrived back at Buffy’s house, only the kitchen light was burning. He’d had to walk nearly eight miles from the abandoned mine where he’d driven the truck. Some careful levering and the thing had caved in nicely.


As he wandered toward the dim light, he could see Anya and Xander sleeping on opposite sides of the sofa. His hearing picked up Tara humming from the basement. There was the slightest scent of tea that told him he’d find Giles in the kitchen.


When he walked in, he found what he’d expected.


“Tara, Willow and Dawn are downstairs,” Giles said. He appeared to have aged another ten years since Spike saw him last just shortly before. “They’re getting her dressed in something... appropriate.”


“The casket?”


“It’s in the alley, still hanging out of the car.”


Spike gave Giles a look. They were supposed to be keeping this secret and a coffin hanging out of a vehicle wasn’t exactly low-key.


“I didn’t want to wake Xander,” he shrugged. “At least not until you got back. Can you two bring it in and take it down the stairs? Will we be able to get it back up… after? We’ll probably need a glamour to hide it on the drive to the woods,” he said thoughtfully.


“We’ll deal,” Spike said. He headed back into the living room to wake Xander.




The girls were sitting with Buffy when the boys noisily came down the stairs. They were grunting under the burden of the coffin they’d procured from somewhere. Except Spike, of course, who seemed to have no problems with the heavy box at all.


Once laid down, Dawn helped to lift its lid. She seemed to be okay until Giles lifted Buffy by her shoulders, while Spike lifted her ankles. She was stiff and Dawn turned away to bury her head in Tara’s shoulder. Willow also cried a little while she stroked her hair.


Once Buffy was settled, Dawn pulled herself together again. She wanted to help nail the coffin lid closed.


“The plaque,” she asked in a subdued voice. It was the first thing anyone had said since the coffin had made its macabre appearance.


“There’s no time,” Xander apologized. “But I’ll make it up with the tombstone, okay?”


She only nodded her head and returned to hammering in her nail.




The night bugs buzzed and chirped as the mourners panted from effort. They’d had to wrestle the coffin all the way through a thick thicket of woods and thorns before arriving at a clearing. The sky was overcast and the only one who could see a thing was Spike, who had to lead the way. The others all acted as pallbearers for the woman they all had loved in different ways.


Finally when they arrived, Spike began to shovel. He used his superior strength and stamina to dig through the earth far faster than the humans surrounding them, though Xander and Giles both worked to do their share.


In under an hour, they’d dug down just shy of five feet and Giles proclaimed it adequate. While they dug, two more figures came crashing and swearing through the underbrush, led by a small glimmering pinch of light. Xander had called them at home when they were ready to leave, though he didn’t really know why. It just seemed… right.


Rick and Carole Stein entered the circle and stood off quietly as the three other men lowered the casket. The weird one, the monster, Spike had just started to grab a shovel to fill in the hole when one of the women, Tara, told him to wait a moment.


She closed her eyes and said something. The only words known to the Stein’s were ‘Gaia’.


The dirt seemed to come alive and began to flow, like water, into the hole. Tara remained with her eyes closed, one hand with its palm flat down over the ground until the entire thing was filled.


“You couldn’t of whisked up a hole in the first place,” the vampire said.


“Sorry, Spike. I can’t do everything,” Tara smiled.


“Thank you for allowing us to be here,” Carole said. “Though I never knew her personally, I feel like she’s saved my life countless times. Like a guardian angel hidden in the shadows, watching over the town.”


“My sister was a hero,” Dawn said. “I’ll miss her, so much. But she died a hero.”


She clung to Willow’s side until Xander and Spike joined them. She transferred her hold to the vampire, making Rick uneasy. This whole thing made him uneasy.


Next, Willow began to chant something that sounded like a song. A sad song, like a dirge, but it was again in a language the Stein’s didn’t get. At the same time, the Tara woman was pouring what appeared to be water over the freshly turned earth.


“It’s holy water,” she said to them. “To bless her resting place and keep things from disturbing it.”


Spike had backed away noticeably during its application, dragging Dawn and Xander with him. He and Xander were holding hands and again Rick felt uneasy with knowing these people.


Carole, of course, seemed to take everything in stride. He envied her unflappability.


When this ritual was finished, they all stood in silence and looked down at the grave of Buffy Summers.


“It feels wrong, just leaving her here,” Rick said. He met disapproving looks from everyone, even his wife. “I-I meant, I mean, I know why we have to, but she saved us. She deserves… more. A monument and uh, lying in state. It feels like we’re hiding her away when she should be celebrated.”


“Yes, she should be,” Giles said, tears in his eyes. “She deserves more than this.”




End Story


Spanderverse Series:

BTVS seasons 1-4.

Spanderverse: After 314

Spanderverse: Spike

Spanderverse: Dracula

Spanderverse: Burial

BTVS: Real Me

Spanderverse: Confusion of Three



Old Friends

Hospital Visits

The Risks of Glory

Hunting Our Needs

The Family We Choose

Falling Apart

Sunnydale Antics

Feints and Counter-Feints


BTVS: The Body

Coming Together

Songs of Pain and Comfort

Battling with a God

Tags: battling with a god, btvs, buffy, fanfiction, harsens-rob, spander, spanderverse

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