Title: Fighting the Good Fight.
Summary: He fights the good fight, even when it kills him.
AN: Companion piece to 'What Difference Does it Make?', but this can be read on its own. Buffy/Spike Pairing. Thanks to Nikita for the beta.
Warnings: Mentions of attempted rape, brutal fight and death scenes, and swearing.
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 1,968

The fighting had been epic…and brutal. Girls had died. Slayers, having just awakened to their strength, lay lifeless at his feet. But he knew what he had to do. He fought with all of his body and soul because it was the right thing to do. He knew the Scoobys thought he fought evil to win Buffy over, and they had been right. But once he won back his soul, he knew the meaning of good versus evil. He knew; that with great power, comes great responsibility.

One final blow to the Turok-Han's skull and it fell to the ground, neck snapped by the force of his punch. Reaching down, he touched the amulet that Buffy had given him, calling him her 'champion' in the process, hoping to somehow access its unknown fountain of power. That was when he first felt the burn of power emanating from the chain around his neck.

"Buffy!" he called, taking a step back, "Whatever this thing does, I think it's –" He said, before roaring and moaning and wincing in pain as the power was slowly releasing itself from the amulet.

He heard Buffy's voice, but the words didn't register. The pain was immense; he couldn't cope with it any longer… His eyes searched for Buffy but she was nowhere to be seen.

Soon Faith has vanished in a sea of ancient vampires and Rona has the scythe. A strike to his face awakens him from his daze and he attacks the Uber-vamp with vigour.

Within moments Buffy is back to her feet, scythe in her hand, and is taking out all enemies in her arm's reach.

Suddenly, he gasps and stumbles backwards, the power of the chain growing rapidly. He grasps at his chest momentarily.

"Oh, bollocks…" he groaned, feeling the energy within the amulet force its way through his body and shooting up, creating an a circle in the roof of the cavern, then through Principal Wood's office, through the ceiling and into the world above.

As fast as he feels the power grow, it's gone, and he's drenched in the warmth of the morning sun. The rays lick at his skin, but he doesn't burn away.

"Buffy!" he shouted, even as the first beam of sunlight cuts a swath through the First's army with the intensity of something more powerful. The earth below their feet rumbles and shakes.

"Spike!" she answered, racing through the group of terrified slayers as the army of the enemy falls to ash and dust around them. Buffy's army escapes through the seal.

"I can feel it, Buffy," Spike said, amazed.

"What?" Buffy gasped, refilling her empty lungs with much-needed air.

"My soul. It's really there. Kind of stings," de replied, looking at her with eyes wide with awe and wonder.

The both watch as the final Turok-Han is dusted.

Buffy then turns and stares at him, her scythe firmly in her grasp.

"Go on, then," Spike said quickly, as the earth continues to shake.

"No. No, you've done enough, you could still –" Buffy said, worry etched in her features and her voice.

Earth and rock crumbles around them.

"Buffy, come on!" Faith yelled, standing on the stairs of the falling cave.

"Gotta move, lamb," Spike said, looking out at the destruction before him, that he had helped create, "I think it's fair to say school's out for bloody summer."

"Spike!" Buffy shouted, more worried that she'd ever been.

"I mean it! I gotta do this!" he said confidently, raising his arms to stop her from dragging him from his destruction.

Lacing her fingers in his, Buffy looks in his eyes as their joined hands burst into flames, "I love you," she said softly.

"No you don't," Spike replied, denying himself his most precious dream, "But thanks for saying it anyway."

Another earthquake forces their burning hands apart, "Now go!" Spike yelled.

Accepting his wishes, Buffy races past him and up the stairs.

"I wanna see how it ends," he said, his voice light, almost joyful, as he grinned from ear to ear.

The cave roof collapsed. His skin started to burn away. He started to laugh heartily through the pain. Feeling his muscles burning away from the bone was an achingly painful experience that he wanted to forget instantly. His organs exploded in his chest, eyeballs melted in their sockets. Quickly, all that was left of his existence was the ash…and the amulet that he had worn.

He was gone. Dust in the wind. Except…there was no wind.

There was nothing. Darkness surrounded him. It felt as if he was floating, yet when he moved his legs, he could walk. That didn't matter though. Where he was, there was nothing to walk to. Instead of wasting his time and energy, he searched his pockets for his smokes and lit up, breathing the fumes in deeply.

"Those things won't kill you," Buffy said, her voice echoing around him, "They will make your fingers turn all yellow and eugh, though."

Choking on the smoke, the cigarette fell from his fingers as he spun around in circles searching for the love of his life.

"Buffy?" he questioned, finding her nowhere. He had had enough of disembodied voices giving him advice, even if the only other one to that had been – "The First," he whispered.

Eyes dark with anger, he threw down his trench coat (he'd worry about finding it later) and clenched his fists.

"Whoever the hell is out there, show yourself!"

Appearing in blinding white light was Buffy, also dressed in white. She looked even more beautiful than he could have imagined. No scars, no dark circles under her eyes, no gaping wound in her stomach. Just Buffy. He took a deep breath, smelling her. It was indeed Ms. Summers.

"Slayer," he growled, "What the bleeding hell are you doing here? I told you to get out! Don't tell me you got trapped in the Hellmouth with me."

Buffy only circled him, eyes roving over his body. Whispers could be heard, but Spike could not hear them. Apparently, Buffy could hear them.

"What's going on, love?"

"I'm not the Chosen One," Buffy said, finally standing still.

"What?"

"I am not Buffy Anne Summers."

"How is that possible? You're here. I can smell you. I can hear your heart beat!"

"This is just a form I am using in order to converse with you."

"Just a form?" he asked, before crossing his arms. "So you're the First then, eh?"

"I am neither the Slayer, nor the First Evil."

"Then what the hell are you?"

"I am," Buffy, or whoever it was, started, "in lay man's terms, a keeper."

"Are you the one who brought me here?"

"This is a void. Nothing can enter or exit until another Champion has it in their possession."

"Still not understanding what's happenin' here," Spike said, sounding almost bored.

"I am member of a group that remains the balance between good and evil in your dimension and millennia of others. And I have been sent to you with a choice."

"A choice? What choice?"

"First, I need to explain why you are being given this choice."

The faux-Buffy swung her arm and an image appeared on the screen. Spike recognised it as the Summers home. A blinding flash absorbed the image and suddenly the main bathroom appeared before them.

Buffy, the real Buffy – his Buffy – entered the room, limping slightly, her bath gown draped tightly around her. She shut the door, turned the knobs on the tub for hot water and leaned over the sink.

Spike instantly knew what was coming and turned away from the image only to find it was behind him. He spun on the spot, trying to run away, but the memory followed him everywhere.

"Stop this," he whimpered, feeling less like a vampire with a soul, and feeling more like the bloody awful poet he had been a century ago. "Please, don't do this."

"We have to. This memory of yours is a pivotal turning point in your destiny. And it must be remembered. Now, please." the guardian said, forcing Spike to stand beside her, facing in the same direction.

His memory of that night was above what he thought as he recalled what was about to happen, moments before it appeared. Him locking the door, "We have to talk." Him attempting to kiss her, her pushing past him. Him grabbing her, sliding his hand up her bare thigh. He closed his eyes, but it was burned to the inside of his lids.

Soon enough, he heard the smash and opened his eyes to see a crying Buffy sitting on the floor, a dark bruise already forming.

"Your understanding of right and wrong had been skewed so that we had to intervene. We tilted the scale and allowed Buffy to kick you away. Her reprimanding you for what you attempted was punishment enough, in our eyes. And then you raced off to Africa to become what you were once again, and returned to Sunnydale insane and soul-having. And then you met her again."

The image of Buffy crying in the bathroom remained a moment later before it jumped to a small church. Moonlight streamed in through the tinted windows. Spike saw himself walking down the aisle, "…and she shall look upon him with forgiveness, and everybody will forgive and love. And he will be loved."

He saw himself staring, fixated on the cross, "So everything's okay, right?" he sighed, embracing the crucifix. He draped his arms over each cross bar, his head on the corner of the vertex. His body started to sizzle and smoke, "Can - can we rest now? Buffy…can we rest?"

And then Spike saw something he didn't know before. He saw a solitary tear fall from Buffy's watery eyes.

Again, the memory was frozen.

"You see?" Buffy said, "You see the feelings you raised in her?"

"What's this choice?" Spike said, his voice filled with unshed tears as he focused on the still of Buffy crying.

"We can reset time, send you back to when you first met her and allow yourself to die at her hands to save her from unwanted unhappiness."

"If I did that, I wouldn't fall in love with her, have my soul returned…"

"Correct."

"What's the other offer?"

"We can reset time, or you can go back to the final fight in the Hellmouth and attempt to save yourself, escape."

"If I did that, the Hellmouth wouldn't be destroyed."

"Correct also," Buffy said, smiling a sad smile, "What do you choose?"

Spike takes his time to answer, watching Buffy's tear-soaked face as she helps his past form off the cross and out of the church.

Clearing his throat, Spike faced Buffy.

"I choose option B."

"We thought you would," Buffy said, uncrossing her arms, "It was an honour being your guardian, William."

"Nice meeting you…whoever you are."

Before his eyes, Buffy vanished. He found himself back down in the cavern beneath the high school. There was no sign of Buffy, but the other Slayers were still there, fighting for their lives.

As Spike threw himself back into the war, he realised something that his guardian possibly knew.

He would make the same choice over and over again. If Buffy stayed with him, she would most likely have died trying to escape the wreckage of the town.

Their hands, interlocked, burst into flames.

Sunlight shone down on the two of them, giving Spike's blue eyes a twinkle Buffy had never noticed before as Spike was enthralled by her shimmering golden hair.

And, all too soon, the earthquake rumbled again, seperating their hands. He instructed her to go.

A few moments later all that was left of her champion was the fallen amulet, buried beneath the rubble of Sunnydale.