The Cost of Butterfly Kisses

[lit_gal]

The  Cost of Butterfly Kisses, Part 50
Fandom/Pairing: BtVS, Spike/Xander
Rated: ADULT

A second short little moment to visit our second protagonist.  I do believe I have one more chapter to go, and then it's time to put this universe to bed.

( Chapter One... )  ( Chapter Two... ) ( Chapter 14 . )

50

Spike crushed his cigarette out on a plate and watched as Tara and Willow chanted softly. The healing magic might have been meant to guide the soul to peace, but it was sending cold shivers over Spike's skin. For a second, he wondered if the soddin' spell wasn't trying to help his own soul reach the other side. He wondered who he'd be without his soul at this point. The demon wanted to belong, and the soul wanted to do a runner.

Every time Xander forgave him, Spike just seemed to feel worse. He'd bloody killed Buffy, but Xander kept acting like he'd been the one to do it. It tore his heart out to know he'd hurt Xander so much. The man had given about everything to make Spike happy, and that wasn't something Spike was used to.

Giving up on being social, Spike headed for the basement. He could use the escape tunnel into the sewers to get out. Maybe he should map out any places where the school's collapse had compromised tunnels. You always wanted to find out about blocked tunnels before you were running for your bloody life.

Spike hurried through the house, past empty rooms that suddenly felt so very wrong. True, having a house full of potentials hadn't been fun, but now that they'd all been sent toddling home with Finn's phone number in case they needed help, the house felt bloody empty, hollow. It made Spike wonder if they should find a dozen more annoying teenagers to fill the rooms. The worst part though was that Buffy and Dawn's rooms would never be filled again. Spike might have misjudged Xander a mite, but then he'd never been good at knowing how Xander would react. Dawn, though… she was going to blame him for fair. She'd probably keep blaming him for a long time, maybe forever.

But maybe the day would come when she would have a tyke of her own and she'd look at her baby and realize that she'd happily lay down her life for family. Maybe, if he was very lucky, on that day she'd call him and forgive him. Maybe she wouldn't. Either way, Spike had done what Buffy wanted: he'd protected her. A little hatred was a small price considering what Buffy had given up.

The door to the escape tunnels swung easily. Spike had kept it in good repair when he'd thought he might have to get his little family out fast. Buffy had saved them, too. She'd saved him. Spike clenched his teeth against a string of curses that wanted to fly out of him. He was too bloody old to expect the world to be fair, and too fucking smart to let the death of one human throw him this much. Humans died. Slayers died even quicker. That's just the way the world worked.

Randomly choosing the left branch, Spike headed into the sewers proper, locking the grate behind him before heading underground.

If she hadn't died, how many days or years would she have had left? Would she have grown old enough to get those wrinkles at the corners of her eyes the way her mum had? Would she have wanted a child of her own, the way Nikki had? Spike felt a warm flash of guilt over that death. True, Nikki was worn down to nothing. She'd given everything to the fight, and the demons were closing in on all sides. She'd reached the end of the trail, and she'd been looking for a quick death by the time he'd taken her.

Would Buffy have lived long enough to get that tired? Would she have searched out any death that promised her a chance to just rest?

Spike wished he had answers, but he didn't. The first human he'd loved since his own mum was gone, and there weren't any words to make it better. No wonder Xander had fled the house as soon as the sun had come up.

Spike sniffed the air as he caught the scent of k'mata. They were nasty buggers-carrion eaters who didn't mind their prey still squirming a bit as they ate. They'd probably been drawn to the promise of a slaughter, and if they didn't get one, they were just as likely to create one. Well, they were going to find another sort of slaughter.

With a grim smile, Spike reached for his knives and trotted down the tunnels, not even bothering to mask that sounds of his boots splashing through the water that seeped through the stones. He needed a bloody fight. The sewer tunnel curved slightly, so Spike couldn't really see much until he got within fifty feet of the nest. Only then did he spot the first k'mata.

They looked more like aliens than demons with their low, squat bodies that could bloat as they devoured their prey, leathery skin stretching out and armored scales sliding to make room for nearly three times the k'mata's normal body weight in food. They had a dozen or so tentacles around their gaping maw, each jointed like a spider's leg to grab the pray and shove bits into the toothy mouth, and their six legs each had claws that could rip. One at a time, they weren't particularly dangerous, but there were fifty or sixty of the buggers wallowing in the shallow water, their mouth tentacles snapping with frustration at the lack of food. Left alone, this nest was either going to turn on each other or risk heading out to kill their own prey. Spike didn't intend to let them alone.

The first k'mata clicked a warning and then launched himself the way a bug would, pushing off on all six legs to make a weird hop that covered more ground than Spike had rightly expected. He twirled and used his flapping coat to distract the beast until he could drive his doc martins into one of the leg joints. It gave with a crack, and the clicking of dozens of k'mata's filled the tunnel, echoing off the stone walls. Either Spike had just hurt their leader and they wanted revenge, or they wanted first dibs on eating the injured-Spike didn't have time to worry about which was which.

The first demon hit him, and Spike slammed a knife up under a scale before those tentacles could catch him, and then he was twirling away to land a kick on a second demon before swinging his knife like a short blade and cutting off the claw of another. The animal shrieked a second before it went down under a half-dozen of its fellows.

Spike used the distraction to leap over the pile of feeding demons, landing on one's back before vaulting to the other side and attacking the creatures from the opposite direction. He caught one by the claw, enduring a nasty gash that cut through his shirt and side. Then, using the captured demon as a weapon, he swung it at the others.

The demon flailed and snapped its claws and grabbed random bits with its tentacles-and every bit it snapped at grabbed was one of its own nest mates. Between the demon's razor claws and Spike's wide swings, the captured demon cut through its fellows.

"Not bloody fair," Spike screamed as he slammed his unwilling partner into the stone wall. Shell and scales snapped and purplish blood seeped out of long cracks. Spike flung the broken body as far as he could, and excited k'mata clicked and chattered as they followed the blood trail. "You shouldn't be alive." Spike snatched a second k'mata and repeated his attack. The morons were so brainless they didn't change their attack at all… they were still all grouped up nicely, and Spike aimed his reluctant ally at the clump. "What the fuck use are you? You're worthless. You're fucking worthless."

Spike's shoulders ached as he smashed the creature into the wall over and over again. Razor sharp pinchers caught his leg, and Spike swore as he discarded his victim and brought his knife down on the k'mata that had ripped through the flesh of his leg and shredded his boot. "You'll die for that, mate." Spike aimed the knife at an eye, but the creature flinched, and Spike drive the knife right through the center of an armored scale. The blow jolted his arm painfully, and Spike ripped the knife back out with the sound of metal scratching over an old fashioned blackboard.

Whirling and kicking and stabbing, Spike tore through the nest, ignoring all the injured he collected along the way. He was down to pummeling the last few twitching survivors before he realized that the screams echoing off the walls were his own. "Why'd she have to die while you still get to slime your way across the bloody earth. What the fuck kind of God allows that?"

Spike leaped up and came down on the last living k'mata, breaking the creature's last leg so that it quivered and mewled helplessly in the middle of a cooling pile of k'mata bodies. "What the fuck kind of God lets you fucking live while she has to die to restore some soddin' ridiculous balance? What the fuck kind of God is that?" Spike's screams ended as the sobs hit him. Leaning back against the bloodied wall, Spike slowly sank to the ground. It wasn't bloody fair. It just wasn't bloody fair.

For a long time, he watched the demon bodies, their husks settling as the blood seeped out into the sewer water, turning it a pale lavender.

What the fuck kind of God would let demons walk the earth and take Buffy away? Spike didn't have an answer, so he sat and watched the carnage he'd created.