Illyria was fighting ahead of them, and from the high pitched cries of pain from her adversaries, she was doing a good job of it, too.
Gunn was nowhere to be seen. Spike didn't like to think about what that meant. The lawyer had been in pretty bad shape before the battle had begun. He hoped that Gunn had passed out and was simply lying unnoticed somewhere tugged under a garbage container. Small chance of that, though.
The fighting was vicious and despite their supernatural powers and decades or centuries or even millennia worth of fighting experiences, Spike knew that they were losing.
They'd known that all along of course.
Yet, so far, he and Angel had managed to keep the demons at bay and it felt bloody good. Angel with his sword and Spike with his speed. Although Angel's wish to 'slay the dragon' seemed to be fulfilled a bit too soon for Spike's liking right this very moment.
The big winged monstrosity was hovering above the old ponce, every once in a while sweeping down, furiously trying to get its claws or teeth on Angel and succeeding more often than not.
Spike didn't like that. He didn't mind dying himself. He'd already done that twice voluntarily, but he didn't fancy watching his grandsire cease to exist. Didn't fancy that at all.
"Spike! Watch out!"
Angel's shout rang out loud and clear despite the heavy rain and the roars of various hell beings, but it was Angel's eyes more than anything, looking so uncharacteristically alarmed and frightened, that made Spike twist around even before Angel had finished calling out his warning. And just narrowly, Spike avoided the sharp claws of a black and oily looking demon flashing similar looking fangs.
Never stopping his turning motion, and an effective circle kick followed by a neck breaking blow later, Spike jumped right back to face the demons advancing on Angel, who was busy fighting the dragon.
Only now the dragon was ascending, blaring triumphantly high above the alley and where Angel had just stood, a smeared cloud of dust was being washed away by the heavy downpour. His sword lay shining drenched in water on the ground.
"Liam! No! Oh god, no!"
Spike staggered, momentarily shocked to the core. He found himself heaving for unneeded air, struggling to stay conscious for what seemed an eternity, but which in reality lasted only a split second before he clenched his jaw so hard it made his jaw bones, teeth and tendons creak. Glowing hatred running through him, he jumped forward, charging the oncoming Sire murdering fuckers.
It was a bloody dance just as he'd always wanted his very last dance to be. Going out in a blaze of glory felt good! And this time around, he was able to move and fight and kill. He was free of a pain induced, paralyzing, magical sodding Champion necklace too! Free to set his demon loose at long last!
He'd managed to swipe up Angel's sword from his grandsire's tarnished and spattered remains and was now hacking and kicking and twisting off demon after demon bloody heads.
He could barely see for the tears mingling with his blood and rain and who knew what else. The tears he couldn't stop, but they didn't bother him. He knew his humanity was just as much a part of him as his demon ever was, and despite the tears, the demon was in charge right now. And it was good at killing things. Very good.
But as much as his demon exulted in the sheer deadly violence, he'd just lost his last reason for going on. There was no one left. No one who gave a rat's ass about Spike. Buffy had moved on, Fred, poor, sweet Fred had been eaten by a hell god, Wesley had just been killed, and Angel…
Angel was gone.
Bring it on, you bleeding assholes!Bring it on and I'll fucking kill you. I swear I'm gonna tear out your bloody filthy, stinking intestines through your bleeding necks! Come on! Give it to me good!
When Spike finally died, he barely noticed it.
