Chances

Author: Taramisu
Rating: I'd imagine NC-17 eventually -> PG-13 now
Summary: The obligatory post finale fic

Pairing: B/W, W/OC
A/N: Thanks be to the beta, who makes all things possible: Jacqueline
  

  
Chapter One
Corporate Restructuring


"This will not do."

"Not at all."

"We cannot,"

"Possibly,"

"Allow this imbalance,"

"To prevail."

They say great minds think alike. `They' are not wrong.

"Let us,"

"Bring in the,"

"Warriors."

In reality, they are simply minds, although not simple minds by any stretch of the imagination. The Powers That Be had long since transcended the need for corporeal form.

"What shall,"

"We do with them?"

"The balance,"

"Must be maintained,"

"At all,"

"Cost."

In the blink of an eye, five forms appeared. They stood, colorful, animated beings against a stark yet brilliant backdrop of blinding white. There's really no need for interior designers when you're a
group of brain waves who finish each other's sentences.

"What the bloody hell is goin' on here?!" Spike's head twisted every which way, trying to ascertain…what the hell was going on. For a change, his white hair actually appeared a dull yellow against the room's lack of color.

"Damn, boys. This is even whiter than the white room." Gunn stood tall, then realized he had no pain to his gut and proceeded to lift his bloodied shirt to find no wound underneath. He ran his hand over
the spot with awe.

"This place displeases me." Illyria shielded her eyes with great irritation. "The light pierces my vision."

"The Powers," Angel whispered reverently.

Wesley stared at him, wondering how he had come to that conclusion. Had he previously met with the Powers and not told them?

"Yes."

"Welcome, warriors."

"You have,"

"Fought valiantly,"

"Despite your immense,"

"Failure."

Spike's hackles rose in offense at the accusation that he had failed at anything. "Failure?! I'll have you know that…I…we…" Previously forgotten memories flooded back into Spike's brain. The Black
Thorn. The baby rescue. The alleyway. The fight…to the death. Yes. He had failed. At the realization, Spike dropped his eyes to the `floor' and immediately closed his mouth.

All five stood in silent contemplation of what had transpired just moments before finding themselves in the Ultimate White Room as guests of the PTB.

"Do not despair,"

"For,"

"We will not,"

"Allow this dimension,"

"To thrive,"

"Under the rule,"

"Of evil chaos."

"The beings who call,"

"Themselves,"

"The Senior Partners,"

"Have offended us,"

"For the last time."

Angel's expression was unreadable. He had no inkling of what to expect, having never trusted in the Powers' decisions in the past.

"Old One."

The phrase boomed throughout the room, making Illyria stand at the ready for a fight.

"You shall return from,"

"Whence you came."

Without notice, the body that had once been Fred deflated, then collapsed like a heap of dirty laundry at Gunn's feet. "What did you do to her?!" Gunn fearfully yelled.

"It has been,"

"Returned to the,"

"Well."

The remaining four men stared at the pile of clothing. Great whiffs of dust danced around like gnats on a sunny day. Although it hadn't been Fred for a while, something inside them died, and they mourned her loss yet again.

The PTB continued.

"And you, human male,"

"Called Charles Gunn."

"Your soul shall gain admission to,"

"To The Resting Place For Protectors."

Once again, without further fanfare, Gunn disappeared. His comrades could do nothing but stare at the empty space. This was all happening just a touch too fast for them to fully comprehend. It was
Angel who finally spoke.

Angel stepped forward, irritation radiating off of him. "Wait. Just wait a minute."

"You,

"Dare to give,"

"Us orders, half breed?"

"No. Not orders. I just want to know what you're doing. How is killing each of us going to bring the balance you're looking for?"

Had the Powers possessed any sort of sense of humor, they would have been cackling up a storm. But, as it was, they had no such perk of personality.

"We have already,"

"Restored balance."

"The demon warriors,"

"You fought,"

"Have been duly…"

"…Dispatched."

"Also, you are each already dead."

"We are simply rewarding you,"

"For your bravery,"

"Honor,"

"And Dedication."

"Great. So, what do the rest of us get? A sodding engraved gold watch?" Spike put on a pompous air. "Thanks for all the years of dedicated service. Your friends, the Powers That Be."

"Silence, William the Bloody!"

Spike raised a single eyebrow in amusement at the moniker.

"You, human,"

"Called Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

A feeling of dread passed over Wesley in anticipation of what his `reward' would be. Wesley hadn't forgotten his actions that unwittingly changed all of their fates. Perhaps a nice stint in a hell dimension for kidnapping the son of two vampires…

Wesley's mind was still considering the possibilities as they delivered the verdict.

"Upon review,"

"Of your life,"

"We grant you a second chance."

Second chance? At what? Wesley drew his eyebrows together in confusion.

"You shall be born,"

"To a new set of parents,"

"And live a normal life,"

"Free from the knowledge,"

"Of the evil of non-humans."

A mouth in the shape of an `O' was the last his friends saw of Wesley's scruffy face. Within moments, the man found himself in darkness, surrounded by a warmth and comfort he swore he had never felt before. Before he knew it, his world flooded with a brilliant light. His body, covered in fluid, chilled in the brisk air. He heard a high-pitched cry, much like that of a newborn, then saw the
huge face of a beautiful woman. Tears streaked down her face as she looked him in the eyes. "Oh, my child. My baby. You will never want for anything, I swear to you." A man leaned down to kiss his
forehead. It was in that moment that Wesley forgot all that he had been and melted into the loving embrace of mother and father.

"The vampire called,"

"Angel,"

"Will prove to be difficult to reward."

"According to the,"

"Prophesy of Shanshu,"

"He will become,"

"Human."

Angel's attention drifted over to Spike, who was digging in his pockets. "What are you doing?" Angel whispered.

"Lookin' for a knife to cut this tension."

Angel rolled his eyes. The Powers would have done the same, save for the lack of eyes and aforementioned sense of humor.

"However,"

"He has chosen to give up that right,"

Spike stared at his counterpart with undisguised astonishment. "What're they on about, Angel?"

The elder vampire bowed his head and fought to hold back the tears. "It's true. I signed it away to get into the Black Thorn In My Side." He rubbed his face with his hand and sighed deeply. Angel
had subconsciously hoped that his signature would mean nothing. After all, how could a signature possibly change a prophecy? While he longed to kick himself for giving up his prize, he could not bring himself to regret it.

"We shall deliver,"

"Your soul to the Resting Place,"

"For Warriors."

Spike looked upon his grandsire for the last time, and quite possibly the first time with veneration. Angel had voluntarily given up that which he had sought out for years: a normal human life. The
remaining vampire mentally said his goodbyes as Angel disappeared all too soon.

"And finally,"

"The vampire known as,"

"Spike."

Despite his perceived need to appear aloof, Spike's guts felt anything but. The term `butterflies in the stomach' did not quite apply. He wondered if there were wild boars in there, stomping away and digging with their sharp tusks. Spike had died before. Heck, his count was up to three by now. But this would be the Powers' final answer in the `Who Wants to Be A Vampire' game, also known as
his life.

"As the vampire Angel,"

"Has refused the gift of Shanshu,"

"It shall be yours."

"What?!" Spike's mouth had only time enough for this one word.

Without warning, his surroundings changed from stark to dark. At first, Spike looked around and recognized the alleyway in which he spent his last moments on Earth. Then, gradually, those memories faded away and he couldn't quite remember what had happened, or, where he was. "What a truly dreadful place I have found myself."

He stretched his brain trying to figure out what had just happened to cause such confusion. The last he remembered was a dark-haired woman, improperly propositioning him in a stable. How did he come to this place, wherever this place was? Surely mother would worry should he not return home in a timely manner.
  

Chapter 2