OoSooM-Chapter Three

Sunnydale, California

Five minutes until chaos…

Dawn Summers looked up from her Trig homework at the sound of a knock on the kitchen door.

Frowning, she picked a spare stake up from beside her cup of pencils and pens, and went to see what creepy crawlie had come calling.

It had to be one of Sunnydale's unregistered denizens, since anyone else would've knocked on the front door. Then again, Dawn figured she might find herself apologizing to Anya for that thought if she was the one knocking. Then again, when had Anya ever knocked?

Dawn gasped at who stood on the back porch, looking miserable.

“Spike!” she squealed, throwing her arms around him, the stake clattering to the floor, forgotten.

“ `Ey, Nibblet,” he said, his voice unusually quiet, lacking the inherent confidence that Dawn had come to associate with the fearless vampire.

Dawn blinked at his defeated tone and grabbed his hand, dragging him inside and shutting the door behind them. “Where have you been? God, you look like crap. What hit you?”

Spike blinked owlishly at her, then a tiny smile, a mere echo of his usual amused smirk, quirked his lips upward. “Missed you too, Platelet,” he said, chuckling softly.

Dawn grinned. “No for changing the subject, Spike. Bad boy. Where have you been?”

“Africa. Demon Trials. I won,” he said brusquely, obviously hoping she'd drop it.

Taking his cue, Dawn changed the subject. “The End of Days is tonight. Well, it would be if Buffy and the others hadn't gone to stop it, anyway,” she said, turning her back on Spike to get another mug out of the cabinet.

She poured cocoa into the `Kiss the Librarian' mug that they'd kept around for Spike and dropped a generous handful of little marshmallows into it, then handed it to the bleached blonde vampire with a smile. “Your favorite at Casa del Summers, Señor the Bloody,” she teased.

Spike laughed. “Thanks, luv. Now, what's this `bout the End of Days? Thought Angel-puss was s'posed to be handlin' that in LA.”

Dawn shook her head. “It's world-wide. Giles and the Council are at Stonehenge to keep the Hellmouth there from opening, Buffy, Methos, Xander, Anya and Willow are at the high school to keep that one from opening, and Angel, Cordelia, Gunn, Fred and Wesley are in LA keeping the one there closed. There's one in Brazil somewhere, too, but it's about the size of our bathroom, so the Council just sent a bunch of Watchers to keep an eye on it,” she informed him.

“Sounds like it's covered, then,” Spike commented.

Dawn nodded. “Yeah…Kinda helps that Buffy and Methos are Immortal, too. Someone kills them, they get back up five minutes later, pissed off that their shirt was ruined.”

Spike did a double take. “Say what?!”

“Oh, God, I forgot! You were already gone when I found that out,” Dawn said sheepishly.

“Do tell,” the blonde vampire said dryly.

“Well, first off, Willow didn't pull Buffy out of Heaven. She was right when she thought the spell failed,” Dawn said. “Buffy wasn't dead when Willow did it, so of course it didn't work like it should've.”

Finishing her own cocoa, Dawn washed her mug out and turned to face Spike, leaning against the sink. “It would've been better if Willow had pulled her out of Heaven,” she said quietly. “For Immortals, any death except beheading is temporary. She was down there for six months, reviving and dying over and over again. She hallucinated Heaven.”

Spike gawped. “Bloody hell.”

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed. “She's been Immortal since she fought the Master and he drowned her,” she told him. “That's why nothing seems to faze her. She healed fast before, so we didn't really notice the difference. We always just assumed it was a Slayer thing, especially since no one actually saw her healing.”

“S'twice now you've mentioned this Methos…Who the effin' hell is that?” Spike demanded.

“Buffy's teacher. Her boyfriend now, for about six months, I guess,” Dawn said, shrugging.

Spike growled softly. “Teacher? What's she need a teacher for? Thought she dropped out of college.”

“Not that kind of teacher, Spike,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes.

“He's another Immortal,” she explained. “Apparently, there's some rules that come with the neat not-dying thing. You can't fight on Holy Ground, you can't team up against another Immortal, and there can be only one Immortal in the end.”

“Wait a minute…how's that, then? Thought you said they were immortal,” Spike argued.

“Except for beheading, they are,” Dawn repeated. “There's something called the Game. Immortals fight with swords in one-on-one combat. The loser ends up a head shorter. The winner gets something called a Quickening, which is sort of a cocktail of some of the loser's experience and skill and stuff. There are headhunters out there that hunt down younger Immortals for their Quickening. Supposedly, in the end, whoever is the last Immortal will have enough power to rule the earth forever. But, that's kind of a rumor. No one really knows what the Prize is.”

“So, why didn't this Methos fight Buffy?” Spike questioned, curious.

Dawn grinned. “He did. He came here hunting someone who'd killed a friend of his way back when…like fifteen hundred years ago or something,” she said. “He ran into Buffy, thought she was this other Immortal, they fought, and she put him on his ass in under a minute. She couldn't kill him, `cuz her Slayer-sense kept yelling that he was human, so they ended up talking instead. Well, Buffy ended up yelling a lot, and Methos ended up laughing at her. He said she reminded him of his seventh wife.”

“Methos isn't any human name I've ever heard before,” Spike said, askance.

“Of course not. Not for the last five thousand years, anyway,” Dawn said primly.

Spike choked on his cocoa. “Five thousand years?!”

Dawn snickered. “Oh, the look on your face is priceless!”

The blonde vampire growled. “Shaddup, runt.”

Dawn tittered. “Okay, okay…Anyway, yeah, five thousand years. Methos was one of the original Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Everyone called him Death. Kinda cool, except for the whole pillaging of continents thing.”

Spike snorted. “Only Buffy would date one of the Four Horsemen. Crikey, doesn't that girl do anything normal?”

Dawn gave him a look. “You are talking about Buffy, right?”

The ground shook, and Dawn blinked, holding onto the counter. “Okay…I guess the fireworks have started,” she said, looking around warily. “Willow didn't mention that there would be shaking.”

“What's supposed to happen, then?” Spike asked.

“Well…uh, I was sort of under the impression that nothing was supposed to happen,” Dawn said nervously.

A larger tremor rocked the house around them and Dawn let out a squeak as she hit the floor, putting her hands over her head protectively as the dishes that had been drying on the counter fell on her.

Spike scooped her up, shielding her with his body, and made for the nearest doorway, huddling against the doorjamb and looking around in trepidation. “Think they lost?” he questioned softly.

“I…I don't know,” Dawn whimpered.

“Stay put,” Spike advised, then made his way to the window, dodging moving furniture as he went.

His eyes widened as he spied the gigantic electrical storm that seemed to be effecting all of Sunnydale, and he yelped as the window shattered, raining shards of glass all over him.

“Spike!” Dawn screamed, staring out the kitchen window at a huge blue wave of electricity that seemed to be coming toward them, very, very fast.

Spike was at her side in an instant, yanking her away from the window and throwing her to the floor beneath him as the wave of blue energy slammed into the house.

The impact knocked Spike halfway across the room, and the last thing he heard was Dawn's shriek before darkness claimed him.


	Sunnydale, California 2003 Five minutes until chaos… Dawn Summers looked up from her Trig homework at the sound of a knock on the kitchen door. Frowning, she picked a spare stake up from beside her cup of pencils and pens, and went to see what creepy crawlie had come calling. It had to be one of Sunnydale's unregistered denizens, since anyone else would've knocked on the front door. Then again, Dawn figured she might find herself apologizing to Anya for that thought if she was the one knocking. Then again, when had Anya ever knocked? Dawn gasped at who stood on the back porch, looking miserable. “Spike!” she squealed, throwing her arms around him, the stake clattering to the floor, forgotten. “ `Ey, Nibblet,” he said, his voice unusually quiet, lacking the inherent confidence that Dawn had come to associate with the fearless vampire. Dawn blinked at his defeated tone and grabbed his hand, dragging him inside and shutting the door behind them. “Where have you been? God, you look like crap. What hit you?” Spike blinked owlishly at her, then a tiny smile, a mere echo of his usual amused smirk, quirked his lips upward. “Missed you too, Platelet,” he said, chuckling softly. Dawn grinned. “No for changing the subject, Spike. Bad boy. Where have you been?” “Africa. Demon Trials. I won,” he said brusquely, obviously hoping she'd drop it. Taking his cue, Dawn changed the subject. “The End of Days is tonight. Well, it would be if Buffy and the others hadn't gone to stop it, anyway,” she said, turning her back on Spike to get another mug out of the cabinet. She poured cocoa into the `Kiss the Librarian' mug that they'd kept around for Spike and dropped a generous handful of little marshmallows into it, then handed it to the bleached blonde vampire with a smile. “Your favorite at Casa del Summers, Señor the Bloody,” she teased. Spike laughed. “Thanks, luv. Now, what's this `bout the End of Days? Thought Angel-puss was s'posed to be handlin' that in LA.” Dawn shook her head. “It's world-wide. Giles and the Council are at Stonehenge to keep the Hellmouth there from opening, Buffy, Methos, Xander, Anya and Willow are at the high school to keep that one from opening, and Angel, Cordelia, Gunn, Fred and Wesley are in LA keeping the one there closed. There's one in Brazil somewhere, too, but it's about the size of our bathroom, so the Council just sent a bunch of Watchers to keep an eye on it,” she informed him. “Sounds like it's covered, then,” Spike commented. Dawn nodded. “Yeah…Kinda helps that Buffy and Methos are Immortal, too. Someone kills them, they get back up five minutes later, pissed off that their shirt was ruined.” Spike did a double take. “Say what?!” “Oh, God, I forgot! You were already gone when I found that out,” Dawn said sheepishly. “Do tell,” the blonde vampire said dryly. “Well, first off, Willow didn't pull Buffy out of Heaven. She was right when she thought the spell failed,” Dawn said. “Buffy wasn't dead when Willow did it, so of course it didn't work like it should've.” Finishing her own cocoa, Dawn washed her mug out and turned to face Spike, leaning against the sink. “It would've been better if Willow had pulled her out of Heaven,” she said quietly. “For Immortals, any death except beheading is temporary. She was down there for six months, reviving and dying over and over again. She hallucinated Heaven.” Spike gawped. “Bloody hell.” “Yeah,” Dawn agreed. “She's been Immortal since she fought the Master and he drowned her,” she told him. “That's why nothing seems to faze her. She healed fast before, so we didn't really notice the difference. We always just assumed it was a Slayer thing, especially since no one actually saw her healing.” “S'twice now you've mentioned this Methos…Who the effin' hell is that?” Spike demanded. “Buffy's teacher. Her boyfriend now, for about six months, I guess,” Dawn said, shrugging. Spike growled softly. “Teacher? What's she need a teacher for? Thought she dropped out of college.” “Not that kind of teacher, Spike,” Dawn said, rolling her eyes. “He's another Immortal,” she explained. “Apparently, there's some rules that come with the neat not-dying thing. You can't fight on Holy Ground, you can't team up against another Immortal, and there can be only one Immortal in the end.” “Wait a minute…how's that, then? Thought you said they were immortal,” Spike argued. “Except for beheading, they are,” Dawn repeated. “There's something called the Game. Immortals fight with swords in one-on-one combat. The loser ends up a head shorter. The winner gets something called a Quickening, which is sort of a cocktail of some of the loser's experience and skill and stuff. There are headhunters out there that hunt down younger Immortals for their Quickening. Supposedly, in the end, whoever is the last Immortal will have enough power to rule the earth forever. But, that's kind of a rumor. No one really knows what the Prize is.” “So, why didn't this Methos fight Buffy?” Spike questioned, curious. Dawn grinned. “He did. He came here hunting someone who'd killed a friend of his way back when…like fifteen hundred years ago or something,” she said. “He ran into Buffy, thought she was this other Immortal, they fought, and she put him on his ass in under a minute. She couldn't kill him, `cuz her Slayer-sense kept yelling that he was human, so they ended up talking instead. Well, Buffy ended up yelling a lot, and Methos ended up laughing at her. He said she reminded him of his seventh wife.” “Methos isn't any human name I've ever heard before,” Spike said, askance. “Of course not. Not for the last five thousand years, anyway,” Dawn said primly. Spike choked on his cocoa. “Five thousand years?!” Dawn snickered. “Oh, the look on your face is priceless!” The blonde vampire growled. “Shaddup, runt.” Dawn tittered. “Okay, okay…Anyway, yeah, five thousand years. Methos was one of the original Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Everyone called him Death. Kinda cool, except for the whole pillaging of continents thing.” Spike snorted. “Only Buffy would date one of the Four Horsemen. Crikey, doesn't that girl do anything normal?” Dawn gave him a look. “You are talking about Buffy, right?” “Point taken.” The ground shook, and Dawn blinked, holding onto the counter. “Okay…I guess the fireworks have started,” she said, looking around warily. “Willow didn't mention that there would be shaking.” “What's supposed to happen, then?” Spike asked. “Well…uh, I was sort of under the impression that nothing was supposed to happen,” Dawn said nervously. A larger tremor rocked the house around them and Dawn let out a squeak as she hit the floor, putting her hands over her head protectively as the dishes that had been drying on the counter fell on her. Spike scooped her up, shielding her with his body, and made for the nearest doorway, huddling against the doorjamb and looking around in trepidation. “Think they lost?” he questioned softly. “I…I don't know,” Dawn whimpered. “Stay put,” Spike advised, then made his way to the window, dodging moving furniture as he went. His eyes widened as he spied the gigantic electrical storm that seemed to be effecting all of Sunnydale, and he yelped as the window shattered, raining shards of glass all over him. “Spike!” Dawn screamed, staring out the kitchen window at a huge blue wave of electricity that seemed to be coming toward them, very, very fast. Spike was at her side in an instant, yanking her away from the window and throwing her to the floor beneath him as the wave of blue energy slammed into the house. The impact knocked Spike halfway across the room, and the last thing he heard was Dawn's shriek before darkness claimed him.