Title: Hero
Author: Eurothrashed
Feedback: Yes, please. E-mail in bio.
Disclaimer: One day, none of this will be ours.
Rating: R
Summary: All those times, in everything he did and didn't do - he was just setting her up for the big finale she never had.
Spoilers: Buffyverse, somewhere after The Gift.


She was limp in his arms as he sat, crying over her. A broken doll. She was covered in blood and so many bruises that he could barely see the little girl she had been only scant moments earlier. Her voice was a thick liquid rasp of absolution and the sound was making him sick. Bile burned up his throat, and if it wasn't for the way he held her to him, he knew his hands would shake.

Made a promise to her. Lots of them. Not just to a fallen hero in her hour of need. Promised so many things to this girl dying on his watch, even if they weren't aloud. Promised to take care of her. Promised to protect her. Promised to make her laugh and smile and all those easy everyday things that didn't feel so much like lies when he was with her.

But they were lies. He realized that now. They had to be.

till the end of the world

Airy-fairy things made of spun sugar and just as insubstantial. He hadn't thought about what he was saying. They were just words, after all. Words. Soft, unthinking words meant to soothe and comfort the tiny bundle of grief that burrowed into his side; but not really intended to last past dried eyes and a snot-damp shirt.

All those times he pushed her hair back and told her he'd be there. All those times he patched up her frail little heart as he bandaged the cuts on her arms. When he whispered her name and let stories drip off his tongue like acid. Every time he coaxed a timid smile onto her trembling lips. All those times, in everything he did and didn't do - he was just setting her up for the big finale she never had.

No Slayer sister this time, not even a half-crazed hellgod.

But she jumped.

Fell.

It didn't matter.

She went over the edge before he could save her and bled, broke skin, and screamed for him as if it would make a difference.

His little martyr made flesh.

She was the one who they were supposed to miss and worship like the celestial being she had once been. She was the one who was supposed to jump and save them all. It was her grave he was supposed to visit, and curse when he couldn't cry anymore. And in a way, life imitated thought. She was the one who really died that day. Big Sis stole her flashy ending and he watched in morbid fascination as the lights went out.

That was what she had been made for, her destiny.

And now, she didn't have it.

No destiny. No purpose. Just a fumbling hurting existence that killed.

doesn't seem to me it matters very much how you start out

She ran from him. Insanity burned hot in her eyes and reflected as a desperate shadow in his. Only when he saw the blood dotting the path she'd taken, leaving smears - only then, did he know. And he'd been too late. Too late to stop her, only just enough time to break her fall.

But it hadn't been enough. Hadn't been fast enough. Clever enough.

Just like before.

Failure crawled through his mind and laughed as her heart stuttered in his ears. She was bleeding and it was his fault. The horrific moments repeated in his mind, slowly, over and over, letting him see where he could have saved her, where he could have played hero and pulled her to safety.

Five seconds. Five bloody seconds and everything would've been different.

He lied and made gambles with a life that wasn't his. But, like always, that didn't matter. He thought he had the cards, thought he could play with fate and win. So, he laid them out and lost everything.

Lost everything and killed the only good thing.

sorry, sorry, so so sorry--

She ran up the tower steps, her headstart robbing him of his rescue.

Blood dripped, but heaven was closed.

He screamed her name and begged with her as she looked over her shoulder at him. Hair flying and tears in her eyes.

"No, Dawn, don't." He held up his hand to her, pleading, beseeching. Panic etched into every part of him, and terror slid in, making his voice crack. "Bit, listen to me. Just walk to me. It'll all be all right. Just walk to me. Walk to Spike." And he was still making promises he couldn't keep. "I'll fix it. Whatever's wrong, I'll fix it."

don'tjumpdon'tjumppleasegoddon'tfuckingjump

"You promise?"

She'd turned to him and he'd thought he'd had her. Gotten through.

Honestly, he had.

A splintered smile and a slow step forward. "Yeah, Dawn. I promise." Another step. "I promise. Now, just..." The metal under his feet creaked. "Don't move." Two more steps. "I'll come to you. Don't move, baby."

Too late.

She smiled and all the pain and fear on her face melted away. It was so bright, so heartfelt, he almost returned it. Almost. Then it slipped away and she was falling. Leaning back and free falling, that hated purple dress rippling around her legs, snapping like a flag caught in a wind. He didn't remember jumping after or wrapping his body around hers and taking the brunt. He didn't remember breaking his leg or shattering his collarbone.

He didn't remember.

He remembered feeling her hands cling to his jacket. He remembered feeling her lips brush against his ear and her voice sound like deliverance as the earth rushed up to meet them.

"Knew you'd save me."

END