The Three Kings, Part Five
Author: Elsa Frohman
Rating: PG.
Spoilers: Post NFA
Summary: This is my 2004 Christmas story. Spike, Gunn and Angel survived NFA and are back in the detective business.





For a moment, everyone was frozen in place. Spike turned, saw Buffy and was paralyzed with a deer-caught-in-headlights look on his face. Buffy saw Spike and hesitated, unsure whether she was being shown an illusion to derail her attack on Drusilla. Angel and Gunn were some dozen feet from Drusilla, on opposite sides, caught in the act of creeping closer to flank her while Spike held her attention. They hesitated, suddenly confused by the light and the realization that there were more people here than they knew about.

And watching them all, standing in front of the evergreen that filled the center of the room -- dressed in a crimson satin robe trimmed in white fur and golden embroidery, carrying a wooden staff topped by three golden balls -- was the Immortal. He surveyed his work and began to laugh -- a deep, generous laugh that spoke of joy, not ridicule.

"Welcome, my friends," he said, his voice booming in the cold air. "Andre, please come join us," he added, turning to call back down the corridor where Buffy had left him.

"You!" Angel snapped. "You're behind this!"

The Immortal turned to Angel and smiled.

"But, of course," he said.

"Now, before we go any further, I must ask everyone to give up their stakes."

The Immortal made a gesture with his staff, and four stakes -- the one on the ground next to Buffy, the one in the inside pocket of Spike's coat, the ones in Gunn's and Angel's hands -- flew to him. He plucked them from the air with his free hand and slipped them inside his robe.

"With so many vampires present, I think it would be safer if I had custody of the weapons," the Immortal said.

"Who is this?" Gunn asked.

"The Immortal," Spike said, snapping out of his paralysis. "He's been a thorn in Angel's and my sides for ... forever."

"Oh, come now, William," the Immortal said, pausing to chuckle. "I helped you when you came to Rome last spring, did I not?"

Buffy blinked. She felt like she'd walked into the last fifteen minutes of a TV show without any idea of what had happened in the first forty-five. She turned to Spike.

"You were in Rome last spring?" she said in a tiny voice that sounded whinier than she wanted it to.

"Um... yeah..." Spike said, his voice faltering. "We tried to see you, but you were out with..." He cocked his head toward the Immortal.

Buffy turned to face the Immortal.

"You knew Spike was alive. You knew he was in Rome. And you didn't tell me?" Her cheeks were reddening. At this moment, she wasn't sure whether she was going to burst into tears or start hitting people.

The Immortal walked over to her slowly. He raised his hand and touched her cheek.

"Mia Amore," he said softly, "please, try to understand. Last spring, I still held out hope that you and I were destined to be together. I was not eager to show you that my rival was not as far beyond your reach as you believed."

"You deliberately kept Spike from me?" Buffy said, her voice gaining strength as her outrage grew.

"I fear I must answer yes," the Immortal replied.

"Nikki, how could you?" Buffy said, her outrage crumbling in the face of betrayal. Tears were welling up in her eyes. "You knew how I felt."

Angel stepped forward.

"All right, you helped us last spring. But, back in the day, you made our lives hell," he said.

The Immortal raised an eyebrow.

"Back in the day, you were very naughty boys," he said, wagging a finger at Angel and Spike.

"Wait a minute," Gunn chimed in. "You're immortal. You've lived for hundreds of years..."

"Thousands, actually," the Immortal replied.

"And your name is Nicholas?" Gunn asked.

"Yes, though only my most trusted associates may know my true name. Names have power. In the long run -- and you must understand that my run has been exceedingly long -- it's best to keep such personal information hidden."

"Saint Nicholas?" Gunn asked incredulously.

The Immortal laughed again.

"I prefer Nicholas of Myra," he replied. "The sainthood thing -- I'm over it. The only real advantage to sainthood is having a feast day, and they took my feast day off the calendar some years ago. People expect asceticism from saints, and it doesn't suit me. I'm really not playing the sainthood game anymore."

"I've been dating Santa Claus?" Buffy said, sounding just a heartbeat from hyperventilation. "I'm going to look back on this someday, and that is going to give me the wiggins in a major way."

Spike had been torn between staring at Buffy and keeping an eye on Drusilla through all this. He was mindful that Drusilla might get bored with all the talk and harm the child at any moment. But Buffy -- she drew his attention like a magnet. He couldn't stop looking at her. She was thinner and paler than he remembered -- and that was somewhat alarming. She'd been too thin and drawn already during that last year in Sunnydale. Her hair was longer and pulled back in a ponytail. Her cheeks were red from the cold and her outrage. Her eyes glistened with gathering tears. He wanted to go to her and wrap himself around her to make her warm and safe again.

"It's time for my party," Drusilla said happily, clapping her hands. "All the guests are here!"

"Give me the baby, love," Spike said firmly. "I can't let you harm it."

"I'm not going to harm the baby, you silly, silly boy."

"Just give him to me," Spike replied, putting more force behind the words.

"You have to give him the gifts first," Drusilla said, spinning around once then giggling.

Spike, Angel and Gunn exchanged glances. Angel shrugged. He pulled the gold watch fob they had bought at Heathrow from his pocket and brought it forward to lay it on the ground at Drusilla's feet. Gunn came forward with the myrrh-scented candle and did the same. Spike took the sticks of frankincense incense out of his own pocket and added them to the small offering. "The baby," Spike said, holding out his arms.

Drusilla handed it over, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

"Bugger," Spike exclaimed, as he realized what he had been handed.

"No more games," he snapped. He unwrapped the bundle and exposed a life-sized baby doll. "Where is the real child?"

"There is no real baby," Drusilla said with another giggle. "Father Christmas wouldn't let me play with a real baby."

Gunn rolled his eyes. "The girl was taking he baby over to the church for the Nativity scene. We've come all this way on a mission to rescue a doll."

"What the hell is going on here?" Angel said angrily. "I've about had it with your games."

The Immortal left Buffy's side and went to Drusilla. He put a protective arm around her.

"I beg you to indulge me just a bit more," he said. "I admit this has been an elaborate ruse to bring the four of you together here."

"Four?" Spike asked. "The letter was only to me."

"I knew your two friends would insist on accompanying you."

"You didn't invite me at all," Buffy protested. "I came on my own!"

"I know you well, Mia Amore. I was certain you wouldn't let me walk away without following."

"Then, Drusilla was just bait to get us all here," Angel said.

"No, not at all. This entire gathering was my princess's wish. I must confess to sentimentality. I could not refuse her."

"She said she was going to write to Father Christmas," Gunn said, remembering the letter.

Spike turned to Drusilla again.

"Why?" he asked.

"You all left me behind, and I was lonely," she said, pouting. "Daddy doesn't want me anymore. You changed, and you're not my paladin anymore. Grandmother is gone, but even in my dreams she isn't my grandmother anymore."

Spike hung his head.

"I'm sorry, pet. I know I said I'd be yours forever. But..."

"It's all right, sweet William," Drusilla said gently. "Everybody changed. So, I shall have to change, too. I will become a butterfly and spread my beautiful wings. All the flowers will call out to me to fly to them."

Slowly, her meaning dawned on Spike.

"You want a soul," he said.

Angel looked at her in surprise.

"Dru," he said, "I know it looks like that would change everything for you, but I don't think you understand..."

The Immortal held up his hand for Angel to stop.

"I explained to her than a soul would bring her great sorrow. She has agreed to another solution to her problem."

Spike frowned. "And that would be?"

"Drusilla has asked you here to give you what you deserve. When she has done that, she will be free of the bonds that hold her to her old life."

"May I begin now?" Drusilla asked.

"Yes, my dear. Begin with Angelus."

She held out her hand and the Immortal took one of the stakes from inside his robe and laid it across her palm. She walked slowly to Angel, swaying as she went to unheard music.

Angel stood his ground, meeting her with a steady gaze.

Buffy watched this with alarm. Drusilla approached Angel with the stake firmly in her hand.

"No!" Buffy cried out. "This isn't right! You can't let her..."

"Do not try to interfere!" the Immortal said sternly. He turned to Spike and Gunn to make sure that they understood that the prohibition applied to them, as well.

Buffy tried to move, but found herself rooted to the ground again. She couldn't lift her feet and she couldn't reach Drusilla from this distance.

Drusilla stopped in front of Angel. She looked up into his face her expression grave.

"You killed my family. You killed my sisters, here in this place. You made me what I am. Then you abandoned me," she said.

"I know," Angel replied, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I understand. You're entitled to your revenge." He closed his eyes and waited for the blow to come.

"Not revenge, silly," Drusilla said brightly. "It wasn't your fault. The gypsy made you leave me behind."

Angel opened his eyes, not knowing what to expect next.

She reached up and touched his face.

"I forgive you."

"What?"

"That's all," Drusilla said. She dropped the stake and kicked it away.

"I don't deserve to be forgiven!" Angel protested.

"I don't care."

She turned and walked to Spike.

"I don't deserve to be forgiven, either, pet," Spike said when she was standing in front of him.

Drusilla laughed.

"Have you forgotten, William? I left you. You cared for me for more than a century. You did everything in your power to make me happy. You protected me when I was weak. You cured me when I was ill. You gave me everything you had and never asked for anything in return."

"But I can't now, love," Spike said sadly. "Everything's different."

"I know that, sweetheart. But, I have to say this to you, because I never did before."

She paused, looking up into Spike's eyes. "Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Yes. I've never thanked you and I owe you that. I know we can never be together again. There isn't room in your heart for more than one love. And I know who you have in there."

She took Spike's hand and led him over to where Buffy stood paralyzed.

"You've been a very silly boy, keeping yourself away from the one you love."

She picked up Buffy's limp hand and put it in Spike's.

Spike looked over his shoulder at the Immortal.

"Could you unfreeze her?" he asked.

"If you're ready to deal with her," the Immortal replied.

He tapped his staff on the floor, and Buffy regained the use of her limbs. She stumbled forward, and Spike caught her.

"Spike," Buffy said, plaintively, "why didn't you tell me?"

Spike struggled for the words to explain, but Buffy put a hand to his lips to stop him.

"Don't tell me now. When you tell me, I'm going to get really mad, because it's going to be lame. Right now, I just want to look at you. I can't believe it. You're alive."

"Technically, no," Spike said with a bit of irony.

"You know what I mean," Buffy replied. "Oh, God, but you're a sight for sore eyes."

Andrew had joined the group, quietly. He was standing off to the side, his hands in his pockets.

"I kept trying to tell you," he whined. "But whenever I tried, something happened."

"Don't give me that, Andrew. I'm going to be even madder at you, once this glow wears off."

"Don't blame the boy," the Immortal said. "I put a charm on him. He was incapable of telling you."

Buffy broke away from Spike and went to face the Immortal.

"Why did you do this to me?" she asked. "Why did you stay with me all this time, making me think you were being patient and it was OK if I wasn't ready? Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

The Immortal looked down at her kindly.

"My affection for you was sincere, Mia Amore. But, the truth is, whatever you've heard of me, I am no saint. I wanted you. And, having unlimited time for such things, I thought if I waited patiently, eventually, you would let go of your love for this one.

"But I was fooling myself. The bond you have with him is so strong, that even when you didn't know he was alive, you still couldn't let go of him. When Drusilla contacted me, I realized it was time to make things right."

"That's it? You're turning me over to Spike like a fruitcake that nobody wants that gets given to someone else every Christmas?" Buffy asked, indignation rising in her voice.

"No, I'm setting you free. Who you choose to leave here with is your own decision."

Buffy looked over her at Spike. He was waiting, his hands in his duster pockets and his eyes on the ground in front of him. She found her legs carrying her back to him before she could form the thought in her brain.

"So, pet," Spike said quietly. "Who are you going to leave with?"

Buffy shook her head.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," she replied. "I'm keeping tabs on you, at least until I get over this shock and get my mad on. I've got a right to give you a piece of my mind -- you've wasted more than a year of our lives. So, you're stuck with me. Try to get away and I'll..."

"No threats necessary, pet."

She wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life. Spike reciprocated, drawing her close and holding her to his chest.

Drusilla went back to the Immortal's side. He again put an arm around her. She snuggled against him, now oblivious to the others in the room.

"What happens to her now?" Angel asked.

"She has resolved to begin a new life," the Immortal replied. "That's why we're here -- the place where she began her last life.

"I have resolved to help her. Her mind isn't strong enough to bear a soul. So, she will content herself by simply vowing to do no more harm."

"Can she be trusted?" Angel asked, his voice indicating he believed it was unlikely.

The Immortal kissed the top of her head, and smoothed her glossy curls with his hand.

"Drusilla is no more constant than she has ever been. Her grip on reality is fragile and there is no guarantee that she will keep to this resolution any longer than it takes for us to leave this place.

"However, I give you my word that while she is in my care, she will do no harm. And I will care for her as long as is necessary."

"Are you sure?" Angel asked.

"I've had a fondness for this girl for a long time," the Immortal replied.

"He's my pony," Drusilla said impishly. "And I shall call him Bertrand."

The Immortal rolled his eyes at that.

"Bertrand?" Angel asked.

"I have absolutely no idea," the Immortal said with a shrug.

Angel sighed deeply.

"Is something troubling you?" the Immortal asked.

Angel struggled to find words.

"How can she forgive me after what I did to her? I should never be forgiven."

Angel hung his head in shame.

"It isn't about you," the Immortal replied. "It's about her. She has broken the bond of blame and recrimination that tied her to you."

"I shouldn't be forgiven," Angel repeated.

The Immortal paused, regarding Angel and his guilt for a moment.

"Honestly, Liam, you are not my concern here. My intention was to grant the wishes of my dear Drusilla and my beloved Buffy. But let it never be said that I am not soft-hearted. Let me tell you a story.

"When I was Bishop of Myra, in a time so long ago that few remember the details of where, when and who, I led a great congregation, and I considered myself a righteous man. I valued righteousness above all other qualities.

"One day, a sinner came to the door of my church. I knew the man well. He was a thief, and a bully, and he had killed innocents merely because they were in his path. But a great epiphany had come upon him and he wished to change his ways.

"He asked me what it would take to earn God's forgiveness. I was repelled by him -- he had hurt so many with so little care. So I beat him with my staff, driving him from the steps of my church.

" 'Is there no chance for my redemption?' he begged me as I beat him. But my heart was closed to him, and I told him that my staff would bloom before he was welcome in the Kingdom of God.

"I went to my bed that night, and leaned my staff into the corner of my chamber, as was my habit. When I woke the next morning, I found that my staff had sprouted snow-white lilies and was in full bloom."

The Immortal held up his hand to stop Angel's protest.

"I know you've heard that story before. It's a common parable. But I tell you that I know it is true, because I can show you the spots on my staff were the flowers sprouted."

"But..." Angel said.

The Immortal held up his hand.

"There is no 'but,' in this matter. You believe yourself the worst sinner the world has seen, but in that you aggrandize yourself. Your sins are grave, but there is no sin so grave that it cannot be forgiven. Desiring a righteous life is all that is asked of you. That is how you are redeemed."

Angel shook his head.

"That's too easy."

The Immortal put a hand on Angel's shoulder.

"I can't lift the burden you carry. It is for you to cast it aside. If you cannot do that now, then perhaps someday you will find the strength to put the past behind you."

"Too much gloomy!" Drusilla exclaimed. "It's time for my party. It's my birthday!"

"You're absolutely right, my dear," the Immortal said heartily.

He tapped his staff on the floor three times and a golden mist settled down through the open roof. It curled around the tree, leaving twinkling stars, crimson garlands and golden orbs in its wake. When it reached the base of the tree, a fully laden buffet table appeared, heavy with cakes and pies, a punch bowl and a large carafe of blood for the vampires.

Spike's eyes got bigger when he saw what was there.

"Mince pie!" he exclaimed. "My favorite!"

-------------

They feasted and celebrated in a hall suddenly warm and protected from the elements -- despite a roof that afforded a view of the stars above. The snow had stopped and the clouds withdrawn.

Buffy, true to her word, would not let Spike get so much as an arms length away from her. There was little for them to say, since Buffy had prohibited explanations for the night. But they couldn't stop looking at one another.

In the glow of good food and mulled wine, Buffy greeted Angel -- something she'd neglected at first, since she'd been completely focused on Spike. There were some awkward exchanges, as Buffy admitted she might have been hasty to cut him off after he went to Wolfram & Hart -- considering the blow he had dealt that organization in destroying the Circle of Blackthorn. Angel took little notice of her offer of reconciliation. He seemed distracted by his own thoughts.

As the night waned, the Immortal showed his guests that there were rooms he had furnished and warmed in the old convent to accommodate them overnight.

"I will return to the town and send transport for you tomorrow evening -- when it is safe for our vampire guests to travel," he said. "Until then, enjoy my hospitality."

He held out his arm to Drusilla, who went to his side. Andrew joined them.

"You're going with him?" Buffy asked.

"Um... yes," Andrew replied. "It's my reward."

"Your reward?"

The Immortal stepped in.

"Do not be cross with the boy. I have abused him -- putting a charm on him that was sure to make you angry with him. In compensation, I will take him into my protection."

"But..." Buffy stuttered. "I'm not that bad, am I? You don't have to protect people from me. I know it wasn't his fault."

"You're not going back to Rome, Mia Amore," the Immortal said. "There is nothing there for you now. It was the place you went to hide from the memories of all you lost. There is no reason to hide now. Surely, you don't wish to take Andre with you to your new life in California."

"I'm going to California?" Buffy asked.

"If you want, love," Spike replied. "We've got a detective agency. We're not making much money, but we're fighting the good fight. But if you don't want to go back, I'll go wherever you like."

"California," Buffy said, turning the idea over in her mind. "This is coming out of left field. I haven't got my head around having you back. I don't know what's going on. But, something just feels right. Yes, I think I would like to go back home."

The Immortal turned to leave, Drusilla on his arm and Andrew trailing behind him. Gunn hurried after them.

"Charles!" Angel said in surprise, "you're not going with him too, are you?"

"No, I just want to talk to the man, I'll be right back."

---------------

Outside, the moon shone down on fresh snow. The world was sheathed in white, tiny crystals sparkling on every surface. The Immortal paused when he heard Gunn behind him.

"Andre, Drusilla my love, would you wait inside for a moment so I may speak with Charles?"

When they were alone Gunn found that framing his question was more difficult than he had anticipated. "You still seek knowledge," the Immortal said kindly. "Has not your question been answered?"

"OK, Santa Claus is real. I guess that's part of what I wanted to know."

"But only half the answer, it seems."

Gunn sighed.

"Yeah, I know this sounds rude, but... what good are you?"

The Immortal raised an eyebrow.

"Have you not seen some worth in my actions this night? I make things better. Sometimes in small ways, sometimes in larger ways."

"OK, yeah... but..."

The Immortal smiled.

"Reindeer do not fly, Charles. If you'd ever cleaned up after a reindeer, you'd know why flying reindeer are a very bad idea. And flying around the world to bring gifts to all good children -- well, I could give you a hundred arguments against that. But first and foremost, beyond the impossibility of granting that many wishes in one night, what joy would there be in a wish granted if every wish was granted every year? And if you're wondering about my image, would you want to live for eternity as a fat old man?"

Gunn hung his head.

"I'll grant you all of that, but..."

"But there was one time when you had a wish that was more important than all the others. It was a wish that you made with all your heart, a wish that meant everything to you. And I didn't grant it." Gunn couldn't look directly at the Immortal.

"I wrote you a letter..."

"Addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole?"

Gunn nodded.

"I remember."

"Oh, come on, don't patronize me," Gunn snapped, suddenly feeling silly for bringing up a letter he wrote when he was a child.

"All right, I don't really remember. There are so many heartfelt wishes from so many. Not just children, you know.

"But I can see it when I look at you. You were fourteen years old," the Immortal said gently. "You had lost your parents to a vampire attack. You were a young boy, suddenly burdened with adult responsibility to care for your sister.

"And you wrote to me with a wish that year."

Gunn nodded silently.

"I was fourteen -- too old to believe in Santa Claus. But, I was willing to try anything."

"I did not grant your wish because it was beyond my power. I cannot bring the dead back to life. I'm sorry."

"OK, I guess that's fair," Gunn said, his voice barely audible.

"I don't expect you to understand it, Charles. But it is very fair. You lost your parents, but you grew to be a strong man and a steadfast warrior against evil. If I could have made your life easier, I might have done it -- I'm a pushover that way. But because I didn't, the forces of good in the world are stronger."

"Yeah, I guess. It's not about me, it's about the world."

"You have long sought knowledge," the Immortal said. "It led you into error when a too easy path to great knowledge was offered to you.

"I would not offer you anything like that. But there is something I can show you that may help you understand. Would you accept that from me?"

Gunn nodded.

The Immortal leaned his staff forward toward Gunn.

"Touch the globes," he said.

----------------

"Tell me a story," the dark-haired woman asks her new protector.

"What sort of story?" he replies.

"Something nice, something about heroes and quests."

"Very well, my dear.

"Once upon a time, there were three kings. They were all brave warriors and had fought to protect the innocent and the helpless. But all three believed that they were lacking something to make themselves complete.

"The first king longed for love. He felt he would not be a whole man until he could give his heart and receive the heart of another in return.

"The second king longed for knowledge. He thought he would be nothing until he had gained wisdom.

"The third king longed for righteousness. He thought the black deeds of his past would never be outweighed by the good deeds of his present."

"Who was right?" the woman asks.

"They all were right and they all were wrong.

"To love and be loved is surely the greatest pleasure of life. The first king was not wrong to yearn for this. But love without wisdom or righteousness can lead the lover astray. He could not accept his greatest desire until he had gained the other aspects through great effort.

"Wisdom is surely the greatest power of life. The second king was not wrong to yearn for this. But wisdom without love or righteousness can lead to villainy. The second king could not lay claim to real wisdom until he had achieved righteousness and known love.

"And righteousness is surely the greatest value of life. The third king was not wrong to yearn for this. But righteousness alone brings little comfort. The third king had to experience love and gain wisdom, and more than that, he had to learn to forgive himself, before he could recognize his own righteousness."

"Did the kings live happily ever after?"

"Their story is still being told, my dear. They will not be happy all the time, nor sad. They will face many challenges, win many battles and risk themselves again and again. This, is as it should be, for a good life is a life of striving, not a life of comfort and satisfaction."

"When will it end?"

"Never, I would hope. But they all have another lesson to learn before they can truly be happy."

"What is that?"

"There is a fourth aspect they must learn to become complete, my dear. It is the quality that I represent. Love, wisdom and righteousness make them good. Generosity will make them happy."

The woman nods, pleased with the story.

"There's just one thing I wish were different," she tells her mentor.

"What is that, my dear?"

"Did the Slayer have to get what she wanted most?"

"Now you're being ungenerous, my dear. Why do you begrudge the Slayer the man she loves?"

"She always steals my boyfriends!"