The dragon struggled closer, its massive shadow sweeping the pavement, wings beating erratically... flying in painful, stilted lurches that Andrew rather guessed had something to do with the sawing motion of Spike's sword through its neck. Dragon blood mixed with rain to paint a second line in the center of the street, smoking as it hit the puddles.
They neared a rooftop and Spike threw his weight to the side, vampire and dragon rolling to crash land with a crunch of skidding gravel. Spike raised his sword, plunging it through the dragon's heart, and the creature gave a bellow of pain.
God he looked cool doing that! Andrew made a mental note to obtain a billowy black leather trenchcoat as soon as humanly possible.
And some black fingernail polish.
And maybe a cool-looking eyebrow scar.
In a swirl of black leather, Spike ripped his sword out, turning and leaping, cat-like, from view, heading back towards the battle.
"Oh, badass," Andrew moaned in an orgasm of fanboy bliss. "Buff, do you think I'd look good as a blonde?"
"Spike," Buffy gasped, her sword clattering against the pavement as it sagged in her hand, anguish in her voice. "Oh, Andrew... that guy... looked so much like Spike..."
Andrew swallowed hard, his eyes on Buffy as she stared up at the rooftop that Spike had just vacated, emotions flying over her face: pain, confusion, disbelief... hope.
"Buff," Andrew said gently, thinking about putting his hand on her shoulder and thinking better of it, "That, uh... that was Spike."
Buffy whirled on Andrew. "Don't be ridiculous."
"That's what I kept trying to tell you... you kept interrupting me... see what happens when you people keep interrupting me?"
She shook her head slowly. "He's dead. Dusted. Gone. I saw him in the Hellmouth, he was burning..."
"Yeah, uh-huh, and how many times have you come back?"
Buffy blinked, her hand rising to rake her drenched hair back from her face, processing. "How... but... Willow?"
"Nah, it wasn't Willow, it was..."
Andrew found himself slammed against the wet brick, her thumbs on his windpipe. "You, in Rome... you said... 'Spike, when did you get here?'... you knew... how long have you known?"
"Since I went to L.A." Andrew batted at her hand. "That's kinda ouchy, Buff..."
The pressure increased. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"He made me promise not to!"
Shock, immediately followed by hurt, flared through Buffy's eyes, her hand falling away from his throat as she stumbled back. "He... he did?"
"Yeah." Andrew rubbed his neck, wincing. "Ever heard the phrase, 'don't strangle the messenger'?"
"He didn't want me to know he was alive?" Buffy whispered.
"You're crying?"
Buffy glared. "It's raining."
"Buffy... not to, y'know, get off-topic here, but... massive demon horde, fate of the world, y'know. Spike might die all over again..."
"That," Buffy said, a fierce light growing in her eyes as she hefted her sword, "Is not going to happen."
----------
"Killed yer dragon," Spike whispered gleefully into Angel's ear before slamming his sword through a demon's stomach.
"I noticed that," Angel spat, his fist colliding with a demon's nose with a mighty crunch. "Just can't stop yourself from going after what I want, can you?"
"Speaking of," Spike called over his shoulder, "She's not here."
"I know," Angel grunted. "Xander told me."
"So you asked," Spike smirked.
"So did you!"
Both vampires blinked and stepped back as a massive fireball exploded before them, pulverizing a crowd instantly.
"Damn," Angel said appreciatively as he and Spike ran through the sudden clearing. "When did Willow get so powerful?"
"Turned into a bit of a scary bint, Willow has," Spike smirked, his blade a blur. "Gives our li'l Blue a right run for her money, and just as fond of the sudden colorful make-overs."
No one without vampiric hearing could have heard Angel's next muttered words: "I really thought... when I saw all the Slayers, I really thought she'd..."
"Y'know how it is, mate," Spike called. "Places to go, Immortals to do..."
"So that's how it is," Angel sent demon heads flying, side-stepping a bolt of magical lightning. "She's not the only Slayer now, pressure off, she can go back to being a... mall chick..."
"Peaches..." Spike's jovial tone had a razor-sharp edge. "I know you're a bit stressed, what with the imminent death and all, but if you ever insult Buffy again, I'll have your testicles hanging from my rearview."
"You don't have a car."
Spike shrugged. "I'll steal yours."
Angel dodged another green electric flare. "You do that anyway."
"It's good to have hobbies."
----------
"Xander," Willow gasped, convulsing again despite the death-grip he had on her from behind, "I'm almost out... it's time..."
"Yeah, fine, fine..." Xander muttered into her hair, tightening his arms around her. "Just remember our deal... you use me as a big, goofy, one-eyed magical Duracell..."
Willow laughed weakly, and Xander felt a powerful, stabbing tug as something inside him resisted, burst, and began to flow into Willow...
"Ohhhhh," Willow moaned erotically, writhing in his arms. "You're good, you're so good..."
Xander chuckled nervously. "It's, uh, cool if I replay this conversation later with a way different setting, right?"
Willow didn't answer, a renewed burst of magic flowing from her fingertips, nearly blinding Xander in the eye he had left.
Pain, yeah, that was good. Something to focus on besides the rather inappropriate noises Willow was making as she sucked... pick a different verb, Xander!... as she extricated his power from his body.
Xander's eye flew wide, fear thudding through his heart; Willow's hair was darkening.
"Will, Will, you're going all evil on me, Will..."
"Am not," she sighed, her nails digging into his arms where they held her. "Am going you..."
Xander blinked. She was right; her hair hadn't gone black, but the same shade of brown as Xander's. With them this close together, you couldn't tell where he ended and she began...
"Weird," Xander breathed, and closed his eyes as the sensations overcame him.
----------
"Holy crap," Robin whistled as a massive group of demons exploded in his face. "Looks like Willow got the second wind from hell."
"She must have gone to backup power." Kennedy's blade flashed bright. "She's draining Xander now."
"I thought she used you for that?"
"Yeah, well. I can actually fight."
Another group of demons exploded, blood filling the alleyway in a fine mist, revealing a group of startled, mid-attack Slayers blinking in confusion, standing in a slick red ring of emptiness.
"How the hell'd she do that without hitting them?"
"That's my girl," Kennedy said proudly.
----------
Buffy moved on auto-pilot, sword flying, legs kicking, arms punching, running on reflex. Demons went down, more demons surged to take their place in a never-ending supply; somewhere beyond the thudding of the adrenaline in her veins, Buffy was actually a little bit bored at the repetitiveness of it.
Or would have been, if it hadn't been for the utterly distracting flow of her thoughts.
Spike was here. Somewhere in this crowd, Spike was fighting alongside her. She couldn't see beyond the demons that surrounded her; he could be three feet away, or blocks.
And he didn't love her anymore.
What had happened to him in the Hellmouth? She'd thought he'd died, but obviously he hadn't... how in the hell had he gotten out of the Hellmouth, out of the crater that was now Sunnydale?
However it happened... he'd gotten out. And he hadn't come to her, had asked Andrew not to even tell her he was alive, didn't want to see her...
Well, good for him! He wasn't ever in love with me, he just had this gross sick obsession, it was unhealthy and freaky and, y'know, Spike-y, 'cause the guy is incapable of being anything but cranked up to eleven. It's good that he's over it, no, better than good, it's great! I'm really happy for him that he's made so much... progress.
So why did she feel like she'd been staked?
Of course I'm upset. I'd feel upset if Anya had survived and didn't look any of us up... Spike was my friend, he was always there for me, he stood by me when no one else did... he understood me, and that's something I miss... so of course I'm a little bummed. A little. Not much.
And once all these things were dead, she would see him. Could go up to him and punch him in the jaw for not calling her, could kick him in the chest, could grab him by that blinding sculpted plastic Ken hair and...
Except he's been fighting for hours in the rain. It won't be sculpted and plastic. It'll be wild and disheveled, the curl coming out, just like he looks after he's been...
Oh, so not going there. No, back to the kicking. Yeah, she'd kick him in the chest, and he'd get that fierce, wild joy in his eyes, and then she could grab him and throw her arms around him and press her face to his chest, feel the soothing cold of him through his t-shirt, breathe deeply the smells of smoke and leather and whiskey and male...
He's alive. A choking sob ripped through her as she cleaved a demon in half.
Well, not alive-alive, but, y'know, alive. For him. Comparatively speaking. And stuff.
And he didn't love her anymore.
A searing pain shot through Buffy's side, and she looked up to meet the eyes of a demon, smiling triumphantly...
Buffy stumbled backwards as a blinding flash of white light filled the alleyway, the raindrops hissing in her ears and turning to steam... a scream in her head, a scream that sounded like Willow, a scream that didn't sound like pain, a scream that sounded rather more like the kinds of noises she'd put her pillow over her ears to avoid when she had a room next to her and Tara...
What the hell?
Vision returned slowly... a spaced-out group of drenched people, chests heaving, weapons still in hand, staring at each other in confusion.
Andrew, bleeding heavily from a cut on his forehead, clutching his stomach. Faith, wild-eyed and ready for more. Robin, looking vaguely ill and holding onto his bicep... Kennedy, sword over her shoulder, looking around frantically, disbelieving...
Slayers, some she recognized, some she'd trained, many more she only recognized by the way they held themselves, the similarity she felt...
And much further down the street, Angel. Buffy's heart skidded into her throat. His face was a mask of pain, and she wondered who he'd lost...
And then Angel reached down, offering his hand... and pulled Spike to his feet.
Oh God, here comes another fight...
Buffy's eyes flew open, her breath stopping, as the two vampires threw their arms around each other...
In a big, manly... hug?
Before turning to face...
Buffy's eyes narrowed.
The woman moved like a cat, dressed in some sort of reddish-black leather bodysuit thing... like a Stormtrooper Slut. Blue streaks in her hair. Make that a Goth Stormtrooper Slut.
The woman said something, and Spike laughed aloud, his head thrown back. Angel merely smiled painfully. More words from the woman, and Spike crossed to her, touching her lightly on the shoulder, a look Buffy knew all too well on his face... reassuring Spike, consoling Spike. Spike's lips were moving, forming words she couldn't hear, but she knew that head-tilt, knew that little eyebrow flash, and something red, pulsing, and squirmy grew in Buffy's gut.
If he just called her 'pet', I'll grind her into dog food.
The woman didn't smile, just looked at Spike like she wanted to eat him...
Familiar with that feeling...
And Buffy's heart lurched as Spike guided her back down an alleyway, whispering in her ear.
Oh, God. So that's why he didn't come find me.
|
|
|
|
Rave
Barbie Girl (Becca)
biscuit07
Filmtheory (Jim)
Malice (Jess)
MebbtheScribe (MichaelB)
Reset (Allie)
Shay (Marrisa)
somnambulist29 (Shea)
Stephanie Loss
Wendyness (Wendy)
Questions?Contact Us
|
|
All stories on this site have been archived with the authors' consent. Do not copy these stories for your own uses without the express consent of the author themselves. Buffy the Vampire Slayer TM and Angel TM are © UPN, WB, Fox and its related entities. All photos on the site are © UPN, Fox, Warner Bros, and/or their respective owners. No profits are being made by use of these images.
Powered with the assitance of eFiction.
|
|
|
