Falling - the conclusion
Here it is - double-length for your conclusion enjoyment!
Many thanks to dreamsofspike who gave a last-minute pre-read and greatly helped the ending. This is much stronger than what I was originally going to foist on y'all!
Previous Parts in Memories.
“Please, Red. Let me out. Glinda’s out of her mind. I’m not going to hurt anyone. It’s me, yeah? Got a little extra of the bad, maybe, but nothing I can’t handle. Nothing more than a shot of espresso to a demon such as me.”
Willow stared in dismay, unable to form a coherent understanding except that ‘shot of espresso’ sounded about right. Spike was jittering in place. Touching his face and his arms and just… fidgeting in a weird way.
Tara came up to her, standing warily away, and who could blame her? It felt like icicles stabbing Willow’s gut to see that caution in her lover’s face.
“G-Giles is doing better,” Tara said. “He’s concussed, I think, but awake.”
“Gliiiiinda,” Spike purred, all seduction. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you, pet. Can’t with this chip in my noggin, now, can I?” He slouched, pouting at her.
“What are we going to do about him?” Willow couldn’t look away from the twitchy vampire.
“We d-didn’t really th-think this far. But i-it’s out of you, sweetie.”
Willow grimaced. “That… whatever it was. It made me… I felt so…” Willow wrapped her arms tight around herself. “Now it’s in him. In the super-strong immortal guy. This… this isn’t an improvement.”
“We didn’t have a lot of time to plan.”
Willow nodded, biting her lip. “Because super-scary witch was going to do who knows what.”
“Where you?”
Willow nodded, not taking her eyes off Spike. “Oh yeah.”
***
After breaking three of its four arms, Buffy was able to twist the last in such a way that the demon - which she would classify as ‘reddish scaly’ - more or less complied with being driven down the street.
By ‘more or less’ one had to assume a lot of head-tossing and wriggling, and the thing had horns poking out of it just all over.
“Don’t,” Buffy grunted, kneeing the thing to dislodge a butt-spike (and oh boy did she wish that was a pun) from her hip. “EVER say I…” she grunted as the thing jabbed her again. “Don’t do anything for you.”
“This is great.” Dawn ran ahead, turning now and again to check on Buffy and the demon’s progress. “I so owe you.”
Buffy grimaced, remembering all of the past month. “Somehow, I doubt.”
***
He had to hold still. Had to look non-threatening. Had to convince the snackables to let him out of the circle so he could take this heat out of his skin and rub it into theirs.
But it was getting hard to listen to their words, which would be giving him hints, he was sure, if he could suffer them.
And it was hard to hold still. His skin was too tight; he could feel his bones stretching it, longing to be free. Maybe he should just rip it and be done. Maybe that would alarm them. They’d try to stop him, break the circle for poor old stupid Spike.
He dug his fingernails into the flesh of one cheek, watching Red. Red was talking, her face a pale oval. Her brows crinkled. Good. She was watching then.
Tepid blood felt good, wetting his fingers. He licked them, felt the sharp nails against his tongue.
The witches were moving. He blinked away the haze to see them rushing to the side. A Delornak demon was thrashing about, some little blonde thing tied around its waist… no, wait, that was the slayer. Good. He shifted into a fighting stance, his fists at the ready, edged as close as he could to the circle. A wrong step, a thrown demon, and the circle could break.
His eyes danced, watching the violence of the poor demon’s struggle. He’d kill it, then take out the slayer. What had he been waiting for, again?
The buzzing at the back of his skull made his vision blur again. Someone was chanting. He shook it away, tried to find the demon again, the slayer… why wasn’t she ripping the thing apart already, instead of bucking around with it like a weight on a tether?
Something took hold of his sternum and yanked him back. He staggered, momentarily held up only by the burning energy of the circle’s invisible walls. He fell to his knees. Black dots chased each other over the image of his pale hands, claw-like against the black pavement. There was another tug. Ripping.
He felt deflated, falling now, really, onto his hands, onto the ground, falling into himself again. It was gone, oh thank god it was gone.
And someone was pulling him up. That didn’t make sense. Hands gripping around his ribs, tugging. Satin-like hair fell against his wounded cheek.
“Come on, come on, stand up. I can’t carry you.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and looked up at Dawn’s serious face.
“Did you save me, Bit?”
“That’s two you owe me,” she replied, a smile breaking unbidden.
“No. No, pet. Owe you a lot more.”
She supported his weight, stepping him over the line of salt that was just a line of salt now.
Buffy was standing over the Delornak demon, wiping its green ichor-like blood off her hands. She glanced briefly at him and then hurriedly returned to concentrating on her task, not looking up until Dawn had Spike tucked into the back of the Toyota. With the safe distance of glass between them, Buffy stared, her plump lower lip sucked into her mouth.
“Don’t ever do something like that again,” Dawn said. “Stupid vampire.”
He felt drunk, holding on to Dawn’s hand seemed the only thing to do. Giles got into the front seat. “I don’t know if I’m fit to drive. Xander?”
***
They broke apart as they got to the house, the dawn streaking the horizon. Spike ran through the door and then stopped, unsure what to do while Xander ran to the phone to call Anya and Dawn stormed up the stairs on some errand of Buffy’s. Willow and Tara were the last to enter the house, their arms entwined, heads together, talking softly like they had a language all their own.
Spike walked into the kitchen to find Buffy washing a cut on Giles’ arm over the sink. The watcher was fighting with her for the washcloth. “I can do it myself, Buffy, it’s not a life-threatening…”
Giles quieted as he followed Buffy’s gaze to Spike. They were all still for a moment.
“Thought I’d see if you needed help,” Spike said, his voice hoarse.
He cleared his throat.
“Oh god,” Buffy said.
Giles easily took the washcloth from her limp hand.
She took one step toward him. “Spike. I…”
He took a step back, stopped himself with a laugh and a shake of his head. “S’okay. I’ll just… be somewhere else.”
A warm hand rested on his arm. He jumped and turned to see Dawn, holding the blue plastic box that held Buffy’s first aid kit.
She stepped slowly past him and handed the box to Buffy. She took him by the elbow and led him into the hall. “Come on, Spike. Help me upstairs.”
He nodded and let her draw him away.
“Big sis not ready to face me?” He asked as they went up the stairs.
“More like are you ready to face her?” Dawn stopped in the hallway, looking back at him.
He grimaced.
“Spike, you’ve been a walking zombie ever since Tara did her spell on you. Don’t tell me you’re just fine.”
He looked around. “What am I helpin’ you with up here?”
She sighed and grabbed his wrist, dragging him after her into her bedroom. “Vampire maintenance,” she said.
He coughed. “Bit! I’m fine. I’m… evil, yeah? This is an evil guy you’re talking to.”
She dropped onto her bed, arms crossed. “Define ‘evil’.”
“Well I think most philosophers would agree eatin’ people qualifies.”
“Which you don’t do anymore.”
He sighed heavily and rested his forearm on the doorframe. “Not by choice, Niblet.”
She was silent for a while. “Okay. Maybe naïve little Dawnie can’t understand the darkness that is the vampire. But I know you, Spike. I’m not some giddy pre-teen with a crush on the bad boy. Can’t you trust me to know myself?”
He raised his head. “Yeah,” he said.
He walked to the bed sat down next to her. “So,” he said, looking at his hands in his lap, “What does the mature woman have to say?”
“Are you going to be okay with Buffy and Xander?”
He sighed. “Might be a while before I stop wantin’ to kill ‘em. Honest truth, pet. I want to rip Xander’s lungs out through his throat. Even knowing what he was dealing with… can’t separate what happened from the people. Don’t want to have anything to do with Willow. Ever again, yeah? Buffy, though… she wasn’t that bad.”
“How can you say that?”
He smiled quietly at her.
She took his hand. “Sometimes I want to kill my sister too, you know.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do! And I could have thrown a rock through Willow’s head and not felt bad about it.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You might have promise there.”
She shrugged. “Did it bother you - the extra evil? Did it make you feel, I dunno, less evil?”
He ducked his head. “From the mouths of babes.”
“Hey!” She smacked him. “Mature woman, remember?”
“From the mouths of hot babes,” he amended, and took her hand. He looked down at his thumb working over her knuckles. “Yeah. Scary insight there. I… thought I knew evil. It was where I lived. Now, I’m not so sure.” He shrugged. “Kind of a blow to the old ego.”
She put her arm around his shoulders. “You’ll always be evil to me.”
“Not reassuring, but thanks,” he said, patting her arm awkwardly.
She straightened, withdrawing her arm. “I’m never going to be more than ‘little bit’ to you, am I? You’re always just going to see me as a child.”
“No,” he said, eyebrows drawing together. “Not at all.” He drew a lock of hanging hair back from her face. “Haven’t been a child for a long time, Platelet. You caught me, when I fell off the tower. Seems like you’re still catching me.”
“Spike!” Willow stopped in the hallway, looking in at them. “It’s daylight outside. Where are you going to sleep?”
Dawn felt him stiffen. “Right. All done being helpful. Time to leave.” He stood.
“Oh no.” Willow recoiled. “No don’t go. Y-You can sleep on the cot in the basement.”
His clenched fists shook. “Ta. But I’ll take the sun.”
“Spike, no.” Dawn jumped between them. “I’ll get Xander to take down the chains. Is Xander still here?”
“Yeah. He got a hold of Anya… but she wanted to spend some time alone so he’s crashing on the couch.”
Spike protested all the way down to the living room. He turned his face away when Xander apologized and ran out to get his tool box.
Dawn made him come down, though, and after Xander grunted and groaned for a full minute over the first cut, Spike took the bolt cutters and snipped the chain loops like he was cutting plastic. He tossed the bolt cutters to Xander hard enough that he staggered back a little from a chip-fire.
Xander excused himself and hurried up the stairs. Dawn tossed the bits of broken chain-links into the trash can full of lint by the dryer. Spike stood, looking at the cot.
He flinched a little when she touched his elbow. “You’re exhausted,” she said. “We all are. It’s just a bed.”
He nodded, heaved a sigh, and laid himself down.
***
Spike awoke with Dawn curled next to him, a warm, soft shape. He stared at her peaceful face and brushed hair from her cheek.
Her eyelids scrunched, and then fluttered open. She shifted onto her side, smiling at him. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” she said. “Down here, I mean. How…” she shook her head, “How are you?”
“Dunno. Have to get used to the little bit rescuin’ me all the time.”
“Well, don’t need rescuing so much.” She smacked his arm. “And I’m not little anymore. Pick something else to call me. No more ‘bite size’ jokes. Buffy’s smaller than me now.”
He rested his cheek on his arm. “Right you are, Dawn.”
And she felt her heart swell. “Dawn” not even “Dawnie.” Her cheeks felt liable to split from smiling. “So you’re not mad I snuck into bed with you?”
“Nothing more beautiful to wake up to than the Dawn,” he said, and his thumb passed over her cheek.
She was kissing him before she had time to think about whether it was right or wrong. His lips were slack at first, and she pulled back to see him gaping in astonishment at her.
“Then let’s wake up like this all the time,” she said, and turned her back to him.
He set his hand on her hip, listened for a moment to the sounds upstairs of someone unpacking groceries and someone else sweeping. “All right,” he said, and curled his arm more securely around her. Together, they drifted back into a doze, feeling secure.
They had finally landed.
Many thanks to dreamsofspike who gave a last-minute pre-read and greatly helped the ending. This is much stronger than what I was originally going to foist on y'all!
Previous Parts in Memories.
“Please, Red. Let me out. Glinda’s out of her mind. I’m not going to hurt anyone. It’s me, yeah? Got a little extra of the bad, maybe, but nothing I can’t handle. Nothing more than a shot of espresso to a demon such as me.”
Willow stared in dismay, unable to form a coherent understanding except that ‘shot of espresso’ sounded about right. Spike was jittering in place. Touching his face and his arms and just… fidgeting in a weird way.
Tara came up to her, standing warily away, and who could blame her? It felt like icicles stabbing Willow’s gut to see that caution in her lover’s face.
“G-Giles is doing better,” Tara said. “He’s concussed, I think, but awake.”
“Gliiiiinda,” Spike purred, all seduction. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you, pet. Can’t with this chip in my noggin, now, can I?” He slouched, pouting at her.
“What are we going to do about him?” Willow couldn’t look away from the twitchy vampire.
“We d-didn’t really th-think this far. But i-it’s out of you, sweetie.”
Willow grimaced. “That… whatever it was. It made me… I felt so…” Willow wrapped her arms tight around herself. “Now it’s in him. In the super-strong immortal guy. This… this isn’t an improvement.”
“We didn’t have a lot of time to plan.”
Willow nodded, biting her lip. “Because super-scary witch was going to do who knows what.”
“Where you?”
Willow nodded, not taking her eyes off Spike. “Oh yeah.”
***
After breaking three of its four arms, Buffy was able to twist the last in such a way that the demon - which she would classify as ‘reddish scaly’ - more or less complied with being driven down the street.
By ‘more or less’ one had to assume a lot of head-tossing and wriggling, and the thing had horns poking out of it just all over.
“Don’t,” Buffy grunted, kneeing the thing to dislodge a butt-spike (and oh boy did she wish that was a pun) from her hip. “EVER say I…” she grunted as the thing jabbed her again. “Don’t do anything for you.”
“This is great.” Dawn ran ahead, turning now and again to check on Buffy and the demon’s progress. “I so owe you.”
Buffy grimaced, remembering all of the past month. “Somehow, I doubt.”
***
He had to hold still. Had to look non-threatening. Had to convince the snackables to let him out of the circle so he could take this heat out of his skin and rub it into theirs.
But it was getting hard to listen to their words, which would be giving him hints, he was sure, if he could suffer them.
And it was hard to hold still. His skin was too tight; he could feel his bones stretching it, longing to be free. Maybe he should just rip it and be done. Maybe that would alarm them. They’d try to stop him, break the circle for poor old stupid Spike.
He dug his fingernails into the flesh of one cheek, watching Red. Red was talking, her face a pale oval. Her brows crinkled. Good. She was watching then.
Tepid blood felt good, wetting his fingers. He licked them, felt the sharp nails against his tongue.
The witches were moving. He blinked away the haze to see them rushing to the side. A Delornak demon was thrashing about, some little blonde thing tied around its waist… no, wait, that was the slayer. Good. He shifted into a fighting stance, his fists at the ready, edged as close as he could to the circle. A wrong step, a thrown demon, and the circle could break.
His eyes danced, watching the violence of the poor demon’s struggle. He’d kill it, then take out the slayer. What had he been waiting for, again?
The buzzing at the back of his skull made his vision blur again. Someone was chanting. He shook it away, tried to find the demon again, the slayer… why wasn’t she ripping the thing apart already, instead of bucking around with it like a weight on a tether?
Something took hold of his sternum and yanked him back. He staggered, momentarily held up only by the burning energy of the circle’s invisible walls. He fell to his knees. Black dots chased each other over the image of his pale hands, claw-like against the black pavement. There was another tug. Ripping.
He felt deflated, falling now, really, onto his hands, onto the ground, falling into himself again. It was gone, oh thank god it was gone.
And someone was pulling him up. That didn’t make sense. Hands gripping around his ribs, tugging. Satin-like hair fell against his wounded cheek.
“Come on, come on, stand up. I can’t carry you.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and looked up at Dawn’s serious face.
“Did you save me, Bit?”
“That’s two you owe me,” she replied, a smile breaking unbidden.
“No. No, pet. Owe you a lot more.”
She supported his weight, stepping him over the line of salt that was just a line of salt now.
Buffy was standing over the Delornak demon, wiping its green ichor-like blood off her hands. She glanced briefly at him and then hurriedly returned to concentrating on her task, not looking up until Dawn had Spike tucked into the back of the Toyota. With the safe distance of glass between them, Buffy stared, her plump lower lip sucked into her mouth.
“Don’t ever do something like that again,” Dawn said. “Stupid vampire.”
He felt drunk, holding on to Dawn’s hand seemed the only thing to do. Giles got into the front seat. “I don’t know if I’m fit to drive. Xander?”
***
They broke apart as they got to the house, the dawn streaking the horizon. Spike ran through the door and then stopped, unsure what to do while Xander ran to the phone to call Anya and Dawn stormed up the stairs on some errand of Buffy’s. Willow and Tara were the last to enter the house, their arms entwined, heads together, talking softly like they had a language all their own.
Spike walked into the kitchen to find Buffy washing a cut on Giles’ arm over the sink. The watcher was fighting with her for the washcloth. “I can do it myself, Buffy, it’s not a life-threatening…”
Giles quieted as he followed Buffy’s gaze to Spike. They were all still for a moment.
“Thought I’d see if you needed help,” Spike said, his voice hoarse.
He cleared his throat.
“Oh god,” Buffy said.
Giles easily took the washcloth from her limp hand.
She took one step toward him. “Spike. I…”
He took a step back, stopped himself with a laugh and a shake of his head. “S’okay. I’ll just… be somewhere else.”
A warm hand rested on his arm. He jumped and turned to see Dawn, holding the blue plastic box that held Buffy’s first aid kit.
She stepped slowly past him and handed the box to Buffy. She took him by the elbow and led him into the hall. “Come on, Spike. Help me upstairs.”
He nodded and let her draw him away.
“Big sis not ready to face me?” He asked as they went up the stairs.
“More like are you ready to face her?” Dawn stopped in the hallway, looking back at him.
He grimaced.
“Spike, you’ve been a walking zombie ever since Tara did her spell on you. Don’t tell me you’re just fine.”
He looked around. “What am I helpin’ you with up here?”
She sighed and grabbed his wrist, dragging him after her into her bedroom. “Vampire maintenance,” she said.
He coughed. “Bit! I’m fine. I’m… evil, yeah? This is an evil guy you’re talking to.”
She dropped onto her bed, arms crossed. “Define ‘evil’.”
“Well I think most philosophers would agree eatin’ people qualifies.”
“Which you don’t do anymore.”
He sighed heavily and rested his forearm on the doorframe. “Not by choice, Niblet.”
She was silent for a while. “Okay. Maybe naïve little Dawnie can’t understand the darkness that is the vampire. But I know you, Spike. I’m not some giddy pre-teen with a crush on the bad boy. Can’t you trust me to know myself?”
He raised his head. “Yeah,” he said.
He walked to the bed sat down next to her. “So,” he said, looking at his hands in his lap, “What does the mature woman have to say?”
“Are you going to be okay with Buffy and Xander?”
He sighed. “Might be a while before I stop wantin’ to kill ‘em. Honest truth, pet. I want to rip Xander’s lungs out through his throat. Even knowing what he was dealing with… can’t separate what happened from the people. Don’t want to have anything to do with Willow. Ever again, yeah? Buffy, though… she wasn’t that bad.”
“How can you say that?”
He smiled quietly at her.
She took his hand. “Sometimes I want to kill my sister too, you know.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do! And I could have thrown a rock through Willow’s head and not felt bad about it.”
He raised his eyebrow. “You might have promise there.”
She shrugged. “Did it bother you - the extra evil? Did it make you feel, I dunno, less evil?”
He ducked his head. “From the mouths of babes.”
“Hey!” She smacked him. “Mature woman, remember?”
“From the mouths of hot babes,” he amended, and took her hand. He looked down at his thumb working over her knuckles. “Yeah. Scary insight there. I… thought I knew evil. It was where I lived. Now, I’m not so sure.” He shrugged. “Kind of a blow to the old ego.”
She put her arm around his shoulders. “You’ll always be evil to me.”
“Not reassuring, but thanks,” he said, patting her arm awkwardly.
She straightened, withdrawing her arm. “I’m never going to be more than ‘little bit’ to you, am I? You’re always just going to see me as a child.”
“No,” he said, eyebrows drawing together. “Not at all.” He drew a lock of hanging hair back from her face. “Haven’t been a child for a long time, Platelet. You caught me, when I fell off the tower. Seems like you’re still catching me.”
“Spike!” Willow stopped in the hallway, looking in at them. “It’s daylight outside. Where are you going to sleep?”
Dawn felt him stiffen. “Right. All done being helpful. Time to leave.” He stood.
“Oh no.” Willow recoiled. “No don’t go. Y-You can sleep on the cot in the basement.”
His clenched fists shook. “Ta. But I’ll take the sun.”
“Spike, no.” Dawn jumped between them. “I’ll get Xander to take down the chains. Is Xander still here?”
“Yeah. He got a hold of Anya… but she wanted to spend some time alone so he’s crashing on the couch.”
Spike protested all the way down to the living room. He turned his face away when Xander apologized and ran out to get his tool box.
Dawn made him come down, though, and after Xander grunted and groaned for a full minute over the first cut, Spike took the bolt cutters and snipped the chain loops like he was cutting plastic. He tossed the bolt cutters to Xander hard enough that he staggered back a little from a chip-fire.
Xander excused himself and hurried up the stairs. Dawn tossed the bits of broken chain-links into the trash can full of lint by the dryer. Spike stood, looking at the cot.
He flinched a little when she touched his elbow. “You’re exhausted,” she said. “We all are. It’s just a bed.”
He nodded, heaved a sigh, and laid himself down.
***
Spike awoke with Dawn curled next to him, a warm, soft shape. He stared at her peaceful face and brushed hair from her cheek.
Her eyelids scrunched, and then fluttered open. She shifted onto her side, smiling at him. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” she said. “Down here, I mean. How…” she shook her head, “How are you?”
“Dunno. Have to get used to the little bit rescuin’ me all the time.”
“Well, don’t need rescuing so much.” She smacked his arm. “And I’m not little anymore. Pick something else to call me. No more ‘bite size’ jokes. Buffy’s smaller than me now.”
He rested his cheek on his arm. “Right you are, Dawn.”
And she felt her heart swell. “Dawn” not even “Dawnie.” Her cheeks felt liable to split from smiling. “So you’re not mad I snuck into bed with you?”
“Nothing more beautiful to wake up to than the Dawn,” he said, and his thumb passed over her cheek.
She was kissing him before she had time to think about whether it was right or wrong. His lips were slack at first, and she pulled back to see him gaping in astonishment at her.
“Then let’s wake up like this all the time,” she said, and turned her back to him.
He set his hand on her hip, listened for a moment to the sounds upstairs of someone unpacking groceries and someone else sweeping. “All right,” he said, and curled his arm more securely around her. Together, they drifted back into a doze, feeling secure.
They had finally landed.