Title: Done
Author: Kat
Pairing: S/A
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit...just borrowing them to get the
plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Spoilers: AtS Season 5 (through the finale)
Warning: Dark, Angsty, Character death
As it turned out, Angel slayed the dragon, just as he'd wanted to. At
some point, death had finally taken Gunn...despite the man's will to live.
Illyria had taken a beating, but the shear quantity of demon ass that she had
kicked far outweighed the damage done to her. They were in the home stretch
now, and Angel was relieved to discover that, because he was beat down, and
a glance over at Spike told him the blond was on his last leg too. Then,
finally, it happened.
The last demon fell.
Angel dropped his sword and turned slowly in a circle, taking in all the destruction and gore lying at their feet. Illyria stood motionless off to one side, staring at nothing. Angel turned in the other direction and met Spike's crystal blue gaze. For a long moment, they stood staring at each other, several lifetimes of memories, good and bad passing between them as Angel realized he'd made it through yet another apocalypse, when he really shouldn't have.
Suddenly, Spike's eyes widened and his mouth opened, as if to say something, but no sound came out. Angel took a step toward him, but Spike was a full city block away at least, and there were so many bodies on the street between them that he didn't get far before he stumbled over a slimy limb and nearly fell. Straightening, Angel looked at Spike again.
"Angel...." Spike finally got out, his voice unnaturally high-pitched, filled with a fear Angel had rarely - if ever - heard from him.
Then there was a light, and it looked like it was coming from inside Spike. Angel watched as Spike looked down and saw it too, emanating from his body.
Spike looked up at the sky and cursed. "Not again! You bloody, self-righteous powers can kiss my ass! I already did the burning alive thing!" The light continued, and Spike glared at the sky. "Are you listening? I'm not doing this again, so sod off!"
Angel couldn't move, couldn't tear his eyes away as the light engulfed Spike. It didn't burn him though, or at least, it didn't appear to. Instead, it surrounded him, lifting him right off the ground.
Angel knew Spike was pissed off then, because he started swinging at thin air, cursing in earnest, yelling for Angel to help him. Only, Angel couldn't make himself move. In spite of Spike's vulgar language and his struggles, the sight was beautiful, awe inspiring. The light wasn't just light...it was like a blanket of warmth and rightness and...good. It was pure goodness... and then it was gone.
Spike dropped to the ground, right into a pile of demon innards. "Wankers!"
Struggling to his feet, Spike turned on Angel and started for him. When he was about a hundred feet away, he said, "And you! A little help would have been nice, ponce."
Angel figured it out then, what had happened. The racing heartbeat was a dead give away, as was the color suffusing Spike's normally pale skin.
"Spike - " Angel started, trying to say something - anything - but Spike was in full on bitch mode and it didn't sound like he was going to stop any time soon.
"Fuck you, Angel." Spike interrupted, climbing over dead corpses in an attempt to get in Angel's face. "I've risked my life for you time and again, mostly these last few months. I signed up for this suicide mission, and what's the thanks I get? You, standing about, watching while the powers-that-fucked-me-over try to burn me alive...again!"
Just then, Angel saw movement out of the corner of his eye and dove for Spike, yelling, "Watch out!"
Spike was too slow in his newly human body to get out of the way though, and Angel was too far away to get to him, and then Spike was staring at him, wide-eyed and scared again, this time because of a gaping wound in his side from some demon's huge claws.
Angel roared and shifted into game face. Lighting fast, he had the demon in his grasp, and ripped it to shreds. Dropping the corpse, he turned to Spike, in time to catch him in his arms as Spike collapsed, blood pouring out of him.
Angel dropped to his knees and held Spike, one arm under his shoulders, propping him up at an angle, one hand over the wound, trying in vain to stave off the bleeding. He knew deep down though, that the wound was fatal.
Apparently, Illyria knew too, because she walked up to them and said, "He will not make it. His wound is mortal. He's mortal." She cocked her head to the side and asked, "How can this be?"
Angel didn't know what to say to her, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned back and looked down at Spike.
Spike looked back up at him, his face twisted in pain, eyes watery. "Angel? How...I'm human? Why...it was supposed to be...you."
Angel swallowed and shook his head. "I signed it away. It was part of the deal with the Black Thorn."
Spike started to laugh, a hysterical note to it, but then the laughter turned into a coughing fit, and finally ended on a choked off cry of frustration. "You ponce. It was...supposed to be...you."
Angel smiled through watery eyes. "I thought you said it was meant for you."
Spike coughed and winced. "Should know by now...when I'm...taking the piss. Git."
Angel laughed, the sound more sad than anything. "Yeah, I should."
"Angel?" Spike asked, voice sounding weaker by the second.
"What?" Angel asked, his grip tightening on Spike's shoulder.
"Tell Buffy..."
Angel felt a knife twist in his gut at the reminder of Spike and Buffy together, but pushed it down, wanting to give Spike at least this, wanting to do something right for a change, instead of failing him like he had so many times in the past, in so many ways, both souled, and unsouled. "What?"
Spike closed his eyes and a tear escaped the corner of one eye. Angel watched it trail down the side of his face, and then Spike's eyes were open again, staring up at him, their crystal depths bluer than Angel had ever seen them. "Nothing. Don't tell her...anything...about me coming back. It'd just...make her sad. She's had...enough sadness."
"Spike, I - "
Spike shook his head, expression full of regret. "No. Don't. Don't say it."
"You don't know what I was about to say," Angel tossed back angrily, feeling helpless as he watched Spike slip away, and hating that he cared so much.
It'd been there all along, of course...the caring. Under all the animosity, the competition, the fighting, the bickering...under all that had been a kinship started over a hundred years before. Fucked up as things had gotten between them - mostly due to Angelus' actions, brought on by jealousy that Dru was the center of Spike's universe, not him - the kinship was still there, drawing them together in spite of themselves, in spite of each other.
Spike looked up at Angel, a wealth of meaning in his gaze. "I do know. But just...don't. 'S too late now. It'd just make this...harder."
Angel looked away, then back down at Spike, full of resolve. "You can't go like this. I could..."
"No," Spike said firmly, voice suddenly strong, in spite of the fact that Angel could hear his heart slowing. Voice once more weakened, breath short, with a hint of weariness that Angel could relate to in a way no one else could, Spike explained, "It's my time, Angel...long past. Don't take that...away from me...please."
Angel pulled his hand away from Spike's wound, knowing it was pointless to hold it there anyway, and traced a bloody finger down the side of Spike's chiseled features and along his jaw. "I think...I think the prophesy was talking about you, Spike. I was just too selfish to admit it...before."
Spike's glistening eyes widened, looking up at him wonderingly. "You mean that?"
Angel's lips lifted at the corners, but it hurt too much to actually smile, so he didn't try. "Yeah, I do."
Spike lifted a shaky hand to the one still touching his face. Clutching Angel's bloody hand tightly, Spike coughed and his breath hitched. "Good...goodbye, Angel."
Angel clenched his jaw as he listened to Spike's heart stutter to a stop. He watched as blue eyes glazed over and lost their intensity - their focus. He felt the body in his arms go slack as the hand that had covered Angel's dropped to the ground, motionless.
For a long time, Angel stared at that hand, willing it to move, willing Spike to somehow come back to life, for this to all be some sort of sick joke, or a test, or...something. But nothing happened. The hand remained motionless, just like the rest of Spike's body, and with every minute that ticked by, Angel felt more and more hollow, more and more numb, more and more alone. It wasn't just Spike, it was everyone, all of them. Doyle, Cordelia, in a way Connor...and Fred, Wesley - God, WesleyGunn, and now...Spike.
It was too much.
He looked up finally, and found Illyria still there, though he had forgotten about her for a time. She looked almost...sympathetic as she stared at down at him and Spike. Angel didn't know what to make of that, so he didn't try.
In the end, with the sunrise approaching, causing the hairs on the back of Angel's neck to prickle in warning, Angel rose, holding Spike's lifeless form in his arms, and walked away from the battlefield...away from the war. It was someone else's now.
He was done.
~ Finis