Good Work Team (Spike, PG13)
Title Good Work Team
Pairing Spike/Buffy
Rating PG13
Words 2700
Setting late season 5
Warnings This is the anti-Spuffy canon. Everything you loved about Intervention onwards, seen through a warped lens. Please don’t be surprised.
Prompt this never was a fag ends prompt, but it’s inspired by a round a long time ago called What If. Made me think. What if Out Of My Mind never happened? What if Spike didn’t love (or didn’t realise he loved) Buffy? Hence I'm crossposting to sb_ashtray shortly before being run out of Spuffydom on a rail.
If you're going to be tortured for information by a psychopathic hell bitch - and, face it, this isn't Spike's first rodeo - it's important to pick your moment.
He has every intention of telling Glory what she wants, but he also wants her to work for it. Make her value him. That was his error with the Frankenbot last year, he realised too late. He'd rolled over and spread 'em way too easy for Adam to give him respect. Not this time. Loosing a hellgod onto the Slayer's bestest ickle sis is going to be damned amusing, but it's the sort of amusing that ends in dusty endings, and he only has the one shot at getting himself on Glory's side.
Spike needs to be there. Sunnydale's getting mighty uncomfy for evil doers not aligned with Glory's lot. He knows too many good demons - cleaner than him, evidently - who've been mind-drunk by the bitch. Others put down by the jawa-judo-minions for insulting her splendorificness. And others disembowelled by the Knights of Incredible Anachronism, in their holy cause.
Basically, Spike needs to hide behind someone's skirts till the shouting stops, and Glory's the biggest badass available. A nice ass, at that, if one clad in skirts a wee bit short for effective concealment.
So. She's getting onwards to peeling him like an orange, and he decides he's bled enough for now. Verisimilitude. But he can still walk (probably), and he'll recover fast enough. The way Glory uses her nails even reminded him of Dru for a pleasant few minutes there.
So he adds one last artistic defiance, "It's that guy... on TV ... what's his name?"
Glory doesn't buy it, but the minions do, and that really riles her. She winds up, and Spike braces. This one's going to hurt, and then- OKAY! Okay, I'll tell you. For real. Just- make it stop.
He can almost taste the words. But the bloody hellgod doesn't know her own strength, or the weakness of this world, and she bloody well hurls him across the room. And out of it.
Bollocks. Bollocks. Fuck. That hurt. A lot. But he's sort of free now, and he's not supposed to have broken yet. The power of her blow was pulled by his unexpected backward momentum. He's not pulped enough to cave suddenly. Which means… he lurches towards the least convincing escape attempt ever.
Which is when the Scooby pals and the actual fucking Slayer come to his rescue. Despite the (okay, possibly tasteless, but also hilarious) fuckbot incident. Because he mustn't tell, and they'll dust him sooner than see it. But here Spike is, beaten bloody and accidentally hasn't told Glory all about the kid and-
They pick him up, dust him down and take him to his crypt. The Slayer pops by later, gives him a kiss, thanks him. She thinks he's an ally now. The real deal.
Well. Isn't that interesting?
*
Glory's definitely the right horse to back, though. And it just gets more and more obvious that Spike needs to get in there, do something grand, get in her good books.
It's all very well taking out the Slayer for shits and giggles (is it ever well), but Spike needs to look after number one. Nobody else has been doing that, these past couple of years. And the patronage of a hellgod has to be worth having.
Spike used to be anti-Armageddon, and to be honest he's still on the fence about its benefits. But he reckons Glory's going to be the sure bet even if her grand mysterious Key-based plan doesn't come off and she's just a mightily pissed-off, Slayer-hating power trip kicking around town with time to kill. At this point, what Spike wants most is to get out of Sunnydale with dignity and self-respect intact (well, restored). Glory can help with that. Buffy never would.
So. It's awfully inconvenient that Buffy's decided he's her warrior, after his near-dust experience at Glory's hands. First, she lands him with babysitting, and he can’t find a single moment to get to Glory with Dawn when Slayer and her pals aren’t there, witnessing, and potentially dusting him. In retrospect, Spike’s pretty sure he could have worked that one better, but at no point does his retrospect reveal how, so he shrugs it off. The kid takes his offhandedness as a kind of catnip, which is infuriating. He used to enjoy winding her up to be a pain in her sister’s arse, but now that she’s his big bargaining counter with the hellgod, Dawn’s a lot less trivial in Spike’s pantheon.
He’s wondering whether it would matter if he just up and walked into Glory’s lair and told her he knows who the Key is - whether she’d kill him outright, or the Slayer, just how he could work the upfront game right - when Buffy marches into his crypt, tells him the gig’s up re: Dawn the mystical wossname, and demands he steal a car for her.
Which… well, on the one hand, Spike just lost his one and only bargaining chip in the game of his life. On the other, it sounds like fun. And it’s also a chance for a more subtle set of spanners in the Slayer’s works that mean he might just yet be able to get an advantage out of this fucked up mess of his unlife. Buffy nixes the Porsche theft, which is a damn shame. Nice and flashy, and impossible to carry anything heavy in the weaponry line in that. But since the Slayer insists on lugging along friends and family as well as half an arsenal, he’s pleased to find the world’s cruddiest Winnebago as an alternative. It’s certainly big enough. And slow enough. And noticeable enough. They won’t let him drive, which is a pisser, but luckily Rupert drives like he’s his own myopic grandmother, so no real trouble there.
Spike’s not pleased when the Knights of Shouldn’t-It-Be-Istanbul-By-Now-You-Antiquarian-Tossers are the first to find them. He’s not specifically sure what their plan for the Key is, though apparently it must be ‘severed’, which sounds fairly terminal when you’re discussing a tweenager. Not unleashing her awesome power for the good of Glorificus and Spike, anyhow. So he fights alongside Dawn’s defenders and gets himself slashed to ribbons saving the Slayer’s life, which is getting bloody ridiculous now.
Still, it’s all good cover, innit? And he still needs the Slayer alive to give Glory something to fight against. If Glory doesn’t need allies, Spike’s little plan will never work, and Glory’d tear through the Scoobies like they were something less substantial than tissue paper. A light mist, maybe, barely dampening her with their messy demise.
Fortifying the collapsing gas station alongside his pseudo-allies is tedious, not least because shredding up his digits seems to have cemented Spike’s status as a good guy to everyone’s satisfaction. Embarrassing beyond belief, that. He feels sorry for them. Remember how he hates them? It’s not like he’s ever been subtle about it. That’s the trouble with the good guys, though. Unless you’re actually eviscerating virgins in front of them, they tend to forget it’s how you’d rather be passing the time, because it’s not in their nature, curse their naïve cotton socks.
He doesn’t have to fake supporting them against the Knights, of course. Gets good intel from Gregor, which helps, but he’d always assumed Glory wanted the Key for something apocalyptically messy, so it’s hardly startling when laid out for them, no matter that the reaction of the Scoobies.
But now the Wicca is building them an impenetrable barrier against encroaching Knights of Call-It-Constantinople-If-You-Must-You-Wankers, and the thing with impenetrability is it doesn’t let in hellgods either.
Spike thinks it would be rather good to get a hellgod in here with them. Liven some stuff up. Make time to make his move, when he (for example) clatters the Slayer with a handy tire-iron from behind, saving the hellgod the trouble (hey, it’s a classic for a reason, and the Slayer might even appreciate the irony as he puts her lights out). But he can’t find a way to suggest it that isn’t going to see him dusted first, and that not happening is always point one in any Spike-based plan these days.
Instead, while they wiffle about the injured Watcher, he nudges them towards getting help from that doctor kid, about whom they’ve always been massively incurious. To Spike, he smells like powerful magic, and he’s half watched the boy’s irregular patterns of movement for months now. Talks to Glory’s trolls, that’s for sure. So, he could be a way in for the hellgod.
Is he ever.
Truly, Spike’s startled by just how perfectly that plan turns out. Hello, hellgoddess in our midst.
Except. He doesn’t get a chance to show his true colours. She’s too fast. He doesn’t hurt the Slayer at all. He just… stands watching, as Glory makes off with the kid. Bollocks. Not such a perfect plan. It leaves him in a nasty spot, for sure.
Spike’s least favourite thing about apocalypses is suffering through them with the also-rans. He really doesn’t want to be one of those that dies in the second wave while Glory does her thing. He also, obviously, doesn’t want to be on the Slayer’s side in stopping the apocalypse, because that’s starting to get humiliating.
So, he needs to be a part of getting Dawn back, and then negotiate with Glory to hand her over again with conditions on this time and somehow make himself an advantage even though she just snagged the kid under his nose... Which… Yeah. That’s not a good plan. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks. He’s lost the opportunity, hasn’t he? Unless something changes bloody quick, that is.
He goes along numbly while they prepare for some kind of final showdown. Buffy’s catatonic, which is amusing but unhelpful. He discovers he’s the only one that can recall the whole Ben-Glory thing, which is much more useful, since no one thinks to blame Spike for drawing Ben into their midst, and he doesn’t have to worry that they’re about to turn on him. He goes to talk with Doc, which stinks as it always does. Doc’s got some kind of deal going with Glory, and Spike’s tempted to ask to get cut in, but he has zero negotiating powers now. Besides, he’s being watched by the boy. And the red witch has enough power to stop him if he turns traitor at the wrong moment, absent the hellgod’s protection.
He’s really fucked this up, in fact. Really, royally fucked it up.
It’s in the dark of the night that Spike realises he’s going to have to help the Scoobies good and proper, social embarrassment notwithstanding. He doesn’t fancy this walls-dissolving apocalypse one tiny bit if he’s just another grub. He’s lost his ever chance so far with Glory, and time’s running out.
It feels just like last year, in fact. Bloody Adam, bloody Glorificus. Nobody knows a good evil ally when they meet one. That, or he’s really not cut out for this lone wolf traitor gig, which would be a shame, as it’s the only one he has.
So, while the Scoobies suit up, Buffy wakes up, plans are hatched involving glowballs and troll hammers, Spike’s reasonably wholehearted about the entire thing. He’d so much have preferred the alternative version, but…
Besides, there’s just a smidgen of possibility he can earn Glory’s gratitude at the crunch point, which is something to bear in mind. If it looks imminently apocalypsing, he’ll at least be in the right place to get minion points. He might even get to take out the Slayer before the world ends.
As a plan B, it has plus points.
Battles are always fun, though honestly, spelled morons and goblin minions, even ninja goblins, aren’t much of an opposition. You can tell, by the way all the Scoobies live through it.
Spike does his part, which is efficient, and he finds himself at the tower base with no excuse not to get up there, to where the teenage ender of the universe is bound. Right. Saving the day seems to be the order of the day, though he keeps a bloody good eye on the fight between Slayer and hellgod that’s going as he climbs the tower. Slayer’s doing well. Slayer’s doing frighteningly well.
He gets to the top, and there’s Dawn, and there’s Doc, with a knife, and the stench of dark power and ripe blood all around them. Spike fangs out a second, and takes a moment to look down. Slayer’s there, but she’s not doing so good just now, and she’s not climbing up to join him any time soon. If he can stay up here, take out Doc, wait to find out who’s coming, that’ll be perfect. Him between Glory and Dawn, as the moment turns and the hellgod needs her bleeding sacrifice at just the right moment. There could be some reflected glory (heh) in that for Spike. Or else, Slayer pops up top, here’s Spike in the right place, right time, guarding the girl, didn’t want to take her down into the battle, aren’t I noble etc. He can sell that.
So he goes for Doc, but the bastard’s stronger than you’d think. More to the point, he’s already started to cut the kid, and Spike’s pretty sure what that’ll mean if he can’t get her away instanter. He’s gonna have to pick a side right now.
He casts a look downstairs, and sees a demolition ball take out the hellgod. So. Spike’s probably on the side of the good guys now. He looks to Dawn, and that’s the moment when that bastard Doc knifes him in the back and chucks him off the tower.
It hurts. No denying. He’s down and out. Apocalypse is likely coming, and Spike’s just a cockroach underfoot. Worst of all worlds, as all the world dissolve. He watches as Buffy climbs the tower, and sends Doc dying after him. Rolls and crawls towards the battered hellgod, and watches Rupert snuff out the last dregs of plan A with a well-placed hand across the unfortunate doctor’s nose and mouth. Because when you’ve got an apocalypse coming, what you really don’t want hanging about is the person who knows how to control it. Right? Good work, Rupes.
Spike collapses back on himself, can’t drag himself onwards any longer, not when there’s nothing to drag for. And that’s how he’s lying, half looking upwards, while the Slayer makes her supreme sacrifice. She doesn’t miss him by that much, falling, as it goes.
Crunch.
She smells amazing. Always did. Like he could eat her and be sustained for months on the glory of her power.
It’s a shame, seeing her dead this way, and no bloody advantage to be taken of it. Nobody took down this Slayer but herself. Not Spike’s third belt-notch, for sure. He can’t boast of this one. Can’t render her down and sell her for parts, not with all these witnesses and the sun rising. Hasn’t made his name shine that bit brighter at all.
He buries his face in his hands, painfully, feeling all the bones grate and slide. A hand pats his shoulder, and Rupert frigging Giles tells him he couldn’t have done any more. For the second time in a fortnight, Spike gets scooped up by Scoobies and dumped in his crypt with medical supplies, cash and a sense of profound indignation. How can they not see that they’re wrong about him?
Fact is, he’s gonna miss the Slayer. She was entertaining. He needs that. But there’s only one person he feels sorry for in this mess, and that’s himself.
Fucked that one up again, Spike. There’s no place in this world for a neutered vampire. No place except alongside a bunch of do-gooders who actually believe he’s on their side.
Which means the next few months, Slayerless in an increasingly lawless town, could be very interesting for Spike. Maybe this massive snafu has an upside.
Laughter hurts, but he can’t entirely restrain it. Got to look on the bright side, right?
*
Pairing Spike/Buffy
Rating PG13
Words 2700
Setting late season 5
Warnings This is the anti-Spuffy canon. Everything you loved about Intervention onwards, seen through a warped lens. Please don’t be surprised.
Prompt this never was a fag ends prompt, but it’s inspired by a round a long time ago called What If. Made me think. What if Out Of My Mind never happened? What if Spike didn’t love (or didn’t realise he loved) Buffy? Hence I'm crossposting to sb_ashtray shortly before being run out of Spuffydom on a rail.
If you're going to be tortured for information by a psychopathic hell bitch - and, face it, this isn't Spike's first rodeo - it's important to pick your moment.
He has every intention of telling Glory what she wants, but he also wants her to work for it. Make her value him. That was his error with the Frankenbot last year, he realised too late. He'd rolled over and spread 'em way too easy for Adam to give him respect. Not this time. Loosing a hellgod onto the Slayer's bestest ickle sis is going to be damned amusing, but it's the sort of amusing that ends in dusty endings, and he only has the one shot at getting himself on Glory's side.
Spike needs to be there. Sunnydale's getting mighty uncomfy for evil doers not aligned with Glory's lot. He knows too many good demons - cleaner than him, evidently - who've been mind-drunk by the bitch. Others put down by the jawa-judo-minions for insulting her splendorificness. And others disembowelled by the Knights of Incredible Anachronism, in their holy cause.
Basically, Spike needs to hide behind someone's skirts till the shouting stops, and Glory's the biggest badass available. A nice ass, at that, if one clad in skirts a wee bit short for effective concealment.
So. She's getting onwards to peeling him like an orange, and he decides he's bled enough for now. Verisimilitude. But he can still walk (probably), and he'll recover fast enough. The way Glory uses her nails even reminded him of Dru for a pleasant few minutes there.
So he adds one last artistic defiance, "It's that guy... on TV ... what's his name?"
Glory doesn't buy it, but the minions do, and that really riles her. She winds up, and Spike braces. This one's going to hurt, and then- OKAY! Okay, I'll tell you. For real. Just- make it stop.
He can almost taste the words. But the bloody hellgod doesn't know her own strength, or the weakness of this world, and she bloody well hurls him across the room. And out of it.
Bollocks. Bollocks. Fuck. That hurt. A lot. But he's sort of free now, and he's not supposed to have broken yet. The power of her blow was pulled by his unexpected backward momentum. He's not pulped enough to cave suddenly. Which means… he lurches towards the least convincing escape attempt ever.
Which is when the Scooby pals and the actual fucking Slayer come to his rescue. Despite the (okay, possibly tasteless, but also hilarious) fuckbot incident. Because he mustn't tell, and they'll dust him sooner than see it. But here Spike is, beaten bloody and accidentally hasn't told Glory all about the kid and-
They pick him up, dust him down and take him to his crypt. The Slayer pops by later, gives him a kiss, thanks him. She thinks he's an ally now. The real deal.
Well. Isn't that interesting?
*
Glory's definitely the right horse to back, though. And it just gets more and more obvious that Spike needs to get in there, do something grand, get in her good books.
It's all very well taking out the Slayer for shits and giggles (is it ever well), but Spike needs to look after number one. Nobody else has been doing that, these past couple of years. And the patronage of a hellgod has to be worth having.
Spike used to be anti-Armageddon, and to be honest he's still on the fence about its benefits. But he reckons Glory's going to be the sure bet even if her grand mysterious Key-based plan doesn't come off and she's just a mightily pissed-off, Slayer-hating power trip kicking around town with time to kill. At this point, what Spike wants most is to get out of Sunnydale with dignity and self-respect intact (well, restored). Glory can help with that. Buffy never would.
So. It's awfully inconvenient that Buffy's decided he's her warrior, after his near-dust experience at Glory's hands. First, she lands him with babysitting, and he can’t find a single moment to get to Glory with Dawn when Slayer and her pals aren’t there, witnessing, and potentially dusting him. In retrospect, Spike’s pretty sure he could have worked that one better, but at no point does his retrospect reveal how, so he shrugs it off. The kid takes his offhandedness as a kind of catnip, which is infuriating. He used to enjoy winding her up to be a pain in her sister’s arse, but now that she’s his big bargaining counter with the hellgod, Dawn’s a lot less trivial in Spike’s pantheon.
He’s wondering whether it would matter if he just up and walked into Glory’s lair and told her he knows who the Key is - whether she’d kill him outright, or the Slayer, just how he could work the upfront game right - when Buffy marches into his crypt, tells him the gig’s up re: Dawn the mystical wossname, and demands he steal a car for her.
Which… well, on the one hand, Spike just lost his one and only bargaining chip in the game of his life. On the other, it sounds like fun. And it’s also a chance for a more subtle set of spanners in the Slayer’s works that mean he might just yet be able to get an advantage out of this fucked up mess of his unlife. Buffy nixes the Porsche theft, which is a damn shame. Nice and flashy, and impossible to carry anything heavy in the weaponry line in that. But since the Slayer insists on lugging along friends and family as well as half an arsenal, he’s pleased to find the world’s cruddiest Winnebago as an alternative. It’s certainly big enough. And slow enough. And noticeable enough. They won’t let him drive, which is a pisser, but luckily Rupert drives like he’s his own myopic grandmother, so no real trouble there.
Spike’s not pleased when the Knights of Shouldn’t-It-Be-Istanbul-By-Now-You-Antiquarian-Tossers are the first to find them. He’s not specifically sure what their plan for the Key is, though apparently it must be ‘severed’, which sounds fairly terminal when you’re discussing a tweenager. Not unleashing her awesome power for the good of Glorificus and Spike, anyhow. So he fights alongside Dawn’s defenders and gets himself slashed to ribbons saving the Slayer’s life, which is getting bloody ridiculous now.
Still, it’s all good cover, innit? And he still needs the Slayer alive to give Glory something to fight against. If Glory doesn’t need allies, Spike’s little plan will never work, and Glory’d tear through the Scoobies like they were something less substantial than tissue paper. A light mist, maybe, barely dampening her with their messy demise.
Fortifying the collapsing gas station alongside his pseudo-allies is tedious, not least because shredding up his digits seems to have cemented Spike’s status as a good guy to everyone’s satisfaction. Embarrassing beyond belief, that. He feels sorry for them. Remember how he hates them? It’s not like he’s ever been subtle about it. That’s the trouble with the good guys, though. Unless you’re actually eviscerating virgins in front of them, they tend to forget it’s how you’d rather be passing the time, because it’s not in their nature, curse their naïve cotton socks.
He doesn’t have to fake supporting them against the Knights, of course. Gets good intel from Gregor, which helps, but he’d always assumed Glory wanted the Key for something apocalyptically messy, so it’s hardly startling when laid out for them, no matter that the reaction of the Scoobies.
But now the Wicca is building them an impenetrable barrier against encroaching Knights of Call-It-Constantinople-If-You-Must-You-Wankers, and the thing with impenetrability is it doesn’t let in hellgods either.
Spike thinks it would be rather good to get a hellgod in here with them. Liven some stuff up. Make time to make his move, when he (for example) clatters the Slayer with a handy tire-iron from behind, saving the hellgod the trouble (hey, it’s a classic for a reason, and the Slayer might even appreciate the irony as he puts her lights out). But he can’t find a way to suggest it that isn’t going to see him dusted first, and that not happening is always point one in any Spike-based plan these days.
Instead, while they wiffle about the injured Watcher, he nudges them towards getting help from that doctor kid, about whom they’ve always been massively incurious. To Spike, he smells like powerful magic, and he’s half watched the boy’s irregular patterns of movement for months now. Talks to Glory’s trolls, that’s for sure. So, he could be a way in for the hellgod.
Is he ever.
Truly, Spike’s startled by just how perfectly that plan turns out. Hello, hellgoddess in our midst.
Except. He doesn’t get a chance to show his true colours. She’s too fast. He doesn’t hurt the Slayer at all. He just… stands watching, as Glory makes off with the kid. Bollocks. Not such a perfect plan. It leaves him in a nasty spot, for sure.
Spike’s least favourite thing about apocalypses is suffering through them with the also-rans. He really doesn’t want to be one of those that dies in the second wave while Glory does her thing. He also, obviously, doesn’t want to be on the Slayer’s side in stopping the apocalypse, because that’s starting to get humiliating.
So, he needs to be a part of getting Dawn back, and then negotiate with Glory to hand her over again with conditions on this time and somehow make himself an advantage even though she just snagged the kid under his nose... Which… Yeah. That’s not a good plan. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks. He’s lost the opportunity, hasn’t he? Unless something changes bloody quick, that is.
He goes along numbly while they prepare for some kind of final showdown. Buffy’s catatonic, which is amusing but unhelpful. He discovers he’s the only one that can recall the whole Ben-Glory thing, which is much more useful, since no one thinks to blame Spike for drawing Ben into their midst, and he doesn’t have to worry that they’re about to turn on him. He goes to talk with Doc, which stinks as it always does. Doc’s got some kind of deal going with Glory, and Spike’s tempted to ask to get cut in, but he has zero negotiating powers now. Besides, he’s being watched by the boy. And the red witch has enough power to stop him if he turns traitor at the wrong moment, absent the hellgod’s protection.
He’s really fucked this up, in fact. Really, royally fucked it up.
It’s in the dark of the night that Spike realises he’s going to have to help the Scoobies good and proper, social embarrassment notwithstanding. He doesn’t fancy this walls-dissolving apocalypse one tiny bit if he’s just another grub. He’s lost his ever chance so far with Glory, and time’s running out.
It feels just like last year, in fact. Bloody Adam, bloody Glorificus. Nobody knows a good evil ally when they meet one. That, or he’s really not cut out for this lone wolf traitor gig, which would be a shame, as it’s the only one he has.
So, while the Scoobies suit up, Buffy wakes up, plans are hatched involving glowballs and troll hammers, Spike’s reasonably wholehearted about the entire thing. He’d so much have preferred the alternative version, but…
Besides, there’s just a smidgen of possibility he can earn Glory’s gratitude at the crunch point, which is something to bear in mind. If it looks imminently apocalypsing, he’ll at least be in the right place to get minion points. He might even get to take out the Slayer before the world ends.
As a plan B, it has plus points.
Battles are always fun, though honestly, spelled morons and goblin minions, even ninja goblins, aren’t much of an opposition. You can tell, by the way all the Scoobies live through it.
Spike does his part, which is efficient, and he finds himself at the tower base with no excuse not to get up there, to where the teenage ender of the universe is bound. Right. Saving the day seems to be the order of the day, though he keeps a bloody good eye on the fight between Slayer and hellgod that’s going as he climbs the tower. Slayer’s doing well. Slayer’s doing frighteningly well.
He gets to the top, and there’s Dawn, and there’s Doc, with a knife, and the stench of dark power and ripe blood all around them. Spike fangs out a second, and takes a moment to look down. Slayer’s there, but she’s not doing so good just now, and she’s not climbing up to join him any time soon. If he can stay up here, take out Doc, wait to find out who’s coming, that’ll be perfect. Him between Glory and Dawn, as the moment turns and the hellgod needs her bleeding sacrifice at just the right moment. There could be some reflected glory (heh) in that for Spike. Or else, Slayer pops up top, here’s Spike in the right place, right time, guarding the girl, didn’t want to take her down into the battle, aren’t I noble etc. He can sell that.
So he goes for Doc, but the bastard’s stronger than you’d think. More to the point, he’s already started to cut the kid, and Spike’s pretty sure what that’ll mean if he can’t get her away instanter. He’s gonna have to pick a side right now.
He casts a look downstairs, and sees a demolition ball take out the hellgod. So. Spike’s probably on the side of the good guys now. He looks to Dawn, and that’s the moment when that bastard Doc knifes him in the back and chucks him off the tower.
It hurts. No denying. He’s down and out. Apocalypse is likely coming, and Spike’s just a cockroach underfoot. Worst of all worlds, as all the world dissolve. He watches as Buffy climbs the tower, and sends Doc dying after him. Rolls and crawls towards the battered hellgod, and watches Rupert snuff out the last dregs of plan A with a well-placed hand across the unfortunate doctor’s nose and mouth. Because when you’ve got an apocalypse coming, what you really don’t want hanging about is the person who knows how to control it. Right? Good work, Rupes.
Spike collapses back on himself, can’t drag himself onwards any longer, not when there’s nothing to drag for. And that’s how he’s lying, half looking upwards, while the Slayer makes her supreme sacrifice. She doesn’t miss him by that much, falling, as it goes.
Crunch.
She smells amazing. Always did. Like he could eat her and be sustained for months on the glory of her power.
It’s a shame, seeing her dead this way, and no bloody advantage to be taken of it. Nobody took down this Slayer but herself. Not Spike’s third belt-notch, for sure. He can’t boast of this one. Can’t render her down and sell her for parts, not with all these witnesses and the sun rising. Hasn’t made his name shine that bit brighter at all.
He buries his face in his hands, painfully, feeling all the bones grate and slide. A hand pats his shoulder, and Rupert frigging Giles tells him he couldn’t have done any more. For the second time in a fortnight, Spike gets scooped up by Scoobies and dumped in his crypt with medical supplies, cash and a sense of profound indignation. How can they not see that they’re wrong about him?
Fact is, he’s gonna miss the Slayer. She was entertaining. He needs that. But there’s only one person he feels sorry for in this mess, and that’s himself.
Fucked that one up again, Spike. There’s no place in this world for a neutered vampire. No place except alongside a bunch of do-gooders who actually believe he’s on their side.
Which means the next few months, Slayerless in an increasingly lawless town, could be very interesting for Spike. Maybe this massive snafu has an upside.
Laughter hurts, but he can’t entirely restrain it. Got to look on the bright side, right?
*