Title: No Sacrifice in Vain
Author: Saturn Girl
Email: saturngirl9@hotmail.com
Summary: Xander asks Spike for one last favor.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Spoilers: Thru the "The Gift"
Warnings: Character death
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, please don't sue.
Feedback: Yes, please. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.
Archive: Ask and ye shall receive.
Dedication: To Mod and Karen, who inspired me with their own tales this week. You guys are great!
Note: Spike's POV
*****
"They're going to find me," he said.
The kid says it so matter of factly. Not oozing fear like I'd expect from a limp-wristed little wuss like him. Nope, he states it with simple resignation, like there's nothing he can do about the situation, so he's accepted it. There's a dozen or more vicious T'Shugroth demons outside my crypt, armed to their razor-sharp teeth, itching to find and kill the person who stole their sacred scroll, and he's not even panicking.
Hell, I feel like panicking. Those T'Shugroth blokes are not to be trifled with. I encountered a bunch of 'em in China a hundred years ago. They destroyed an entire village in less than three hours, and didn't leave a single human alive. Sure, I hated having to go hungry that night, but I sure as hell wasn't going to stop them from massacring my dinner. They'd disembowel a fellow as soon as look at 'em.
But they're not after me. No, they want Xander. Sucks to be him right now.
Xander's clothes are torn and slightly muddy, and he has scratches all over his body, and twigs in his hair from running through the woods. His chest visibly rises and falls as he gulps big breaths of air, winded after his flight from the demon's lair. He takes a weathered scroll out of his inside coat pocket, and presses it into my hand, but I don't want to take it.
"No way, whelp. They'll rip my arms off to get this stupid scroll back. You stole it, you deal with it!" I push it back at him. I can hear the bloodthirsty snarls of the demons in the background, as they scour the graveyard looking for Xander. They're getting closer.
"Bleach Boy, we don't have a lot of time, so quit being an asshole!" He's very determined and forces my fingers around the scroll. "You have to take this to Willow, now! You can make it out of here; they've never seen you. It's end of the world time again, pal, and the expiration date is less than two hours away unless Will and the others get this thing and complete the ritual before the sun comes up. If they don't, we're all toast. Vampires and other non-human denizens of Sunnydale included!"
Christ, I hate all this soddin' saving the world rubbish. Every month, it's the same melodrama. I'm a vampire without a soul or a care in the world, so I don't know why I should mind if this crappy town suddenly ceases to exist. I should be hopping on that the world domination bandwagon, right? Maybe lead the cheering squad as the visiting villains crush the heroic home team?
Sigh.
But if Sunnydale is decimated, then I suppose I'll have to pack up and find a new place to live, and I hate moving. I reluctantly take the scroll, and he breathes a sigh of relief.
"Get moving, now. Take it to the Magic Box. Bare your fangs and act like some random vamp minion on the prowl if they see you, and they'll leave you alone." He looks over his shoulder when we hear a crash outside. It sounds like the demons toppled over the huge grave marker by the maple tree.
"Screw that, I'm no minion! I'm Spike, William the Bloody, terror of..."
"Please, spare me. I'd like to enjoy the last few minutes of my life without having to hear you rant about what a Big Bad you are." He says it quietly, and I realize he's not joking.
The T'Shugroths will rip him to pieces when they find him, and they most assuredly will. They may be a little dense, but they're relentless hunters and won't give up until they get what they want. I don't know how he managed to stay out of their clutches for as long as he did. The little bugger always did have a knack for staying alive when by all rights he should be a messy little stain on the side of the Hellmouth. No Slayer strength, no witchcraft, and the lad couldn't fight his way out of a plastic comic book bag.
But this time, he's going to die, and he knows it. And for some unfathomable reason, this bothers me.
"Look, Xander, I could distract 'em, and let you get away."
"Aw, Fangless, I didn't know you cared!" His voice dripped sarcasm, and for a moment he's the same insufferable little brat I'm used to. I almost let him have it, tell him I don't give a rat's fart what happens to him, but then his tone became serious again. Practical, but with a twinge of sadness.
"Don't think I haven't thought of that. It won't work. They've already got the cemetery surrounded, and the big one with the ugly hat called for even more reinforcements. I can't get out of here undetected. It was a miracle I slipped into your crypt without them seeing me. Neither one of us has a chance of fighting that many demons, and if they think you have the scroll, your unlife is totally over, too."
"Well, we could wait 'em out, then! Hole up in here, with the door bolted, until this whole thing blows over," I offer. "If I'm here with you, at least I can try to protect you until help arrives."
"No! You can't wait any longer! What's important isn't figuring out how I can avoid becoming a T'Shugroth hors d'oeuvre, it's making sure Willow completes the ritual before sunrise. Nothing else matters." His eyes plead with me. "Please, just get out of here, before they catch us together."
What is it with these kids, that all of them would be willing to give up their lives protecting a bunch of ungrateful humans who don't even know they need saving? Buffy isn't even alive anymore, so why do they bother to carry on? She was the super-heroine, not them. I'll never understand these goody-goody Scoobies.
"Why? Why are you doing this?" I grab his arms and try to shake some sense into him. "Those demons are going to wear your innards like Mardi Gras beads when they find you, pet. Why not save yourself, and just give them the scroll? My Desoto's parked right outside. We can be out of town in minutes before the shit hits the fan. Fuck Sunnydale, and fuck being a hero, don't you want to live?"
"Of course I want to live!" he said hoarsely, with eyes that burned like cigarette embers. He sounds like he's 30 seconds away from leakin' tears, and I realize suddenly that I've never once seen this kid cry. Not even when Buffy and Joyce died.
"But I'm not going to fail, not when it really matters," he said.
He's not a boy anymore. He's grown up a lot since the first time I saw him all those years ago, when Angel offered him to me as a late night snack. But he looks like that young, fiery kid again. His head in the lion's mouth, but still determined not to give up.
"All my life, I've managed to be a loser. Last week, I messed up the Sanderson job and cost the client an extra thousand dollars because I braced the cabinets wrong and had to redo the entire frame. When I was a kid, I never got good grades, I never got into college, and my parents thought I was a huge failure. 'Stupid, worthless son,' that's what the old man liked to call me. And let's not forget my legendary luck with women! I ruined a good thing with Cordy, and an even better thing with Anya, because I cheated on them. I'm Xander, King of Cretins and Master of Letting People Down, but not this time. No one else is gonna die today because I screwed up. I will make sure this scroll gets to Willow on time, so she can save the world...yet again. But I need you to help me, Spike, 'cause you're the only one who has any hope of getting out of this stupid cemetery!"
He yanked himself out of my arms and stepped away from me, and I can see him pull himself together after his little outburst. He's back to being calm, determined, we-who-are-about-to-die-salute-you Xander.
"Please, Spike. They'll find my tracks any second now and break down that door. At least make my death count for something. I'm not one-tenth the hero Buffy was, but she did teach me a thing or two about fighting the good fight. You say you loved Buffy. Well, if you really did, do this for her. She'd never give up and allow thousands of innocent people to die if there was anything she could do to stop it. Prove to me that you love and respect her and all the things that she stood for, and make sure Willow can stop the T'Shugroth leader from carrying out his plans."
So that's it then. I'm supposed to walk out of here, and let the whelp get ripped to shreds. Red and the others ain't gonna like it when I break the news, but he's right. The clock's ticking, and he ran out of options. I think he's an idiot to throw his life away like this, but I respect his decision. It is what Buffy would have done. But I won't just do this for her.
I'll help him because he's got balls. Christ only knows how Xander managed to get his hands on the artifact all by himself and make it this far in one piece. He could've punked out and dropped the scroll so he could save his own hide, but he didn't. He's seen how powerful those T'Shugroths are, and if he's been to their lair then he knows what they do to their victims. They have a particular fondness for eating human brains. Wonder if it would help if I convinced them Xander is seriously lacking in that department?
"You win. I'll do it, don't worry. It's been real...interesting knowing ya, kid. I'd say nice, but we both know I'd be lying." He smiles wryly at the jab, and thanks me.
I crack the door and peer out the crypt exit, waiting for a safe opportunity to slip outside. The rough voices of two demons speaking their gibberish tongue echo outside the door. It's going to be tough, but as soon as they turn around, I think I can make it to that tree over there. I'm quick, silent when I need to be, and I'm very good at sneaking and hiding in shadows; just some of the perks of being a vampire.
Before I take my exit, he makes one last request.
"Tell them that I love them, and that I wasn't afraid."
I've seen thousands of humans meet their deaths...to be perfectly honest, mostly because I killed them. I've seen it all: people crying, begging, screaming, pissing in their pants. Rarely have I encountered anyone who wasn't afraid when his or her number was up. But I believe him. He's not scared, because he's doing something he believes is right. I've thought many things about Xander Harris. He's a smug, mouthy, self-righteous little do-gooder with the worst fashion sense I've ever seen. He's still all of those things, but I also think he's one of the bravest humans I've ever met.
But I don't tell him that. I've still got a reputation as a bitter, surly vampire who hates everybody that I need to protect.
Now's my chance, so I take it. I don't say anything, and I don't look back at him. We aren't exactly enemies, but we aren't really friends, so neither one of us has much use for emotional good-byes. I pat the scroll, to make sure it's hidden and secure before I slip outside, silent as a corpse...'cos, duh, I am a corpse. I elude the demon sentries and make it to the small grove of trees to hide. They didn't spot me.
I sneak around the tree, and make my way to a huge, ornate headstone adorned with angels and cherubs. Tacky and ugly as all get out, but a good spot to hide behind.
"R-r-r-oar! You there!" A gruff, distinctly demon-like voice calls out from behind me, and I'm caught. "Stop where you are, meat!" Two ferocious arms grab me before I can run away. Christ, these blokes are strong! If he holds me any tighter, my bones are going to crack!
I change my features to let the T'Shugroth know I'm a vampire. "Hey! Leggo! Can't a demon hunt for his supper without being molested?" I try without success to shrug out of his grasp.
He growls in disgust. "Bah! You're not the boy we seek. You're just a pathetic bloodsucker. This foul place reeks of vampires. Soon we will rid this plane of everyone except my kindred clan of proud T'Shugroth. Waste not my time! Where is the thief? Tell me if you have seen him!" He lifts me by my neck, and I stuggle and choke in his grip.
"Urrr...don't...know...what you're talking about...mate," I manage to gurgle. "If I'd seen a boy around here...I'd have eaten him by now."
He doesn't like my answer. His razor claw reaches for my shirt, but before he can vivisect me, another demon voice bellows from my crypt.
"He is here! The interloper is found!" Several more demons pass us, snorting and snarling in hungry anticipation as they find their way back to the source of the shout. The demon drops me and follows his comrades, as I rub my crushed throat and struggle to my feet.
They have him.
I can barely make him out, because the trees are blocking my view and he's surrounded by ugly brutes. Part of me wants to stay and watch, to see the whelp struggle with the demons before they kill him. I'm curious to see if he can keep a brave face as they torture him and demand the return of their artifact. But it's not morbid fascination that compels me to want to watch. I feel like someone needs to witness his last stand, someone who can tell the tale of his final act of courage.
But I know I can't. I have a promise to keep, and there's only an hour or so left before the sun comes up. I turn around and run as fast as I can, away from Xander and the sound of his agonized screams, because I don't want to fail.
I won't screw up, Xander.
***** END *****
Author: Saturn Girl
Email: saturngirl9@hotmail.com
Summary: Xander asks Spike for one last favor.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language
Spoilers: Thru the "The Gift"
Warnings: Character death
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, please don't sue.
Feedback: Yes, please. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.
Archive: Ask and ye shall receive.
Dedication: To Mod and Karen, who inspired me with their own tales this week. You guys are great!
Note: Spike's POV
*****
"They're going to find me," he said.
The kid says it so matter of factly. Not oozing fear like I'd expect from a limp-wristed little wuss like him. Nope, he states it with simple resignation, like there's nothing he can do about the situation, so he's accepted it. There's a dozen or more vicious T'Shugroth demons outside my crypt, armed to their razor-sharp teeth, itching to find and kill the person who stole their sacred scroll, and he's not even panicking.
Hell, I feel like panicking. Those T'Shugroth blokes are not to be trifled with. I encountered a bunch of 'em in China a hundred years ago. They destroyed an entire village in less than three hours, and didn't leave a single human alive. Sure, I hated having to go hungry that night, but I sure as hell wasn't going to stop them from massacring my dinner. They'd disembowel a fellow as soon as look at 'em.
But they're not after me. No, they want Xander. Sucks to be him right now.
Xander's clothes are torn and slightly muddy, and he has scratches all over his body, and twigs in his hair from running through the woods. His chest visibly rises and falls as he gulps big breaths of air, winded after his flight from the demon's lair. He takes a weathered scroll out of his inside coat pocket, and presses it into my hand, but I don't want to take it.
"No way, whelp. They'll rip my arms off to get this stupid scroll back. You stole it, you deal with it!" I push it back at him. I can hear the bloodthirsty snarls of the demons in the background, as they scour the graveyard looking for Xander. They're getting closer.
"Bleach Boy, we don't have a lot of time, so quit being an asshole!" He's very determined and forces my fingers around the scroll. "You have to take this to Willow, now! You can make it out of here; they've never seen you. It's end of the world time again, pal, and the expiration date is less than two hours away unless Will and the others get this thing and complete the ritual before the sun comes up. If they don't, we're all toast. Vampires and other non-human denizens of Sunnydale included!"
Christ, I hate all this soddin' saving the world rubbish. Every month, it's the same melodrama. I'm a vampire without a soul or a care in the world, so I don't know why I should mind if this crappy town suddenly ceases to exist. I should be hopping on that the world domination bandwagon, right? Maybe lead the cheering squad as the visiting villains crush the heroic home team?
Sigh.
But if Sunnydale is decimated, then I suppose I'll have to pack up and find a new place to live, and I hate moving. I reluctantly take the scroll, and he breathes a sigh of relief.
"Get moving, now. Take it to the Magic Box. Bare your fangs and act like some random vamp minion on the prowl if they see you, and they'll leave you alone." He looks over his shoulder when we hear a crash outside. It sounds like the demons toppled over the huge grave marker by the maple tree.
"Screw that, I'm no minion! I'm Spike, William the Bloody, terror of..."
"Please, spare me. I'd like to enjoy the last few minutes of my life without having to hear you rant about what a Big Bad you are." He says it quietly, and I realize he's not joking.
The T'Shugroths will rip him to pieces when they find him, and they most assuredly will. They may be a little dense, but they're relentless hunters and won't give up until they get what they want. I don't know how he managed to stay out of their clutches for as long as he did. The little bugger always did have a knack for staying alive when by all rights he should be a messy little stain on the side of the Hellmouth. No Slayer strength, no witchcraft, and the lad couldn't fight his way out of a plastic comic book bag.
But this time, he's going to die, and he knows it. And for some unfathomable reason, this bothers me.
"Look, Xander, I could distract 'em, and let you get away."
"Aw, Fangless, I didn't know you cared!" His voice dripped sarcasm, and for a moment he's the same insufferable little brat I'm used to. I almost let him have it, tell him I don't give a rat's fart what happens to him, but then his tone became serious again. Practical, but with a twinge of sadness.
"Don't think I haven't thought of that. It won't work. They've already got the cemetery surrounded, and the big one with the ugly hat called for even more reinforcements. I can't get out of here undetected. It was a miracle I slipped into your crypt without them seeing me. Neither one of us has a chance of fighting that many demons, and if they think you have the scroll, your unlife is totally over, too."
"Well, we could wait 'em out, then! Hole up in here, with the door bolted, until this whole thing blows over," I offer. "If I'm here with you, at least I can try to protect you until help arrives."
"No! You can't wait any longer! What's important isn't figuring out how I can avoid becoming a T'Shugroth hors d'oeuvre, it's making sure Willow completes the ritual before sunrise. Nothing else matters." His eyes plead with me. "Please, just get out of here, before they catch us together."
What is it with these kids, that all of them would be willing to give up their lives protecting a bunch of ungrateful humans who don't even know they need saving? Buffy isn't even alive anymore, so why do they bother to carry on? She was the super-heroine, not them. I'll never understand these goody-goody Scoobies.
"Why? Why are you doing this?" I grab his arms and try to shake some sense into him. "Those demons are going to wear your innards like Mardi Gras beads when they find you, pet. Why not save yourself, and just give them the scroll? My Desoto's parked right outside. We can be out of town in minutes before the shit hits the fan. Fuck Sunnydale, and fuck being a hero, don't you want to live?"
"Of course I want to live!" he said hoarsely, with eyes that burned like cigarette embers. He sounds like he's 30 seconds away from leakin' tears, and I realize suddenly that I've never once seen this kid cry. Not even when Buffy and Joyce died.
"But I'm not going to fail, not when it really matters," he said.
He's not a boy anymore. He's grown up a lot since the first time I saw him all those years ago, when Angel offered him to me as a late night snack. But he looks like that young, fiery kid again. His head in the lion's mouth, but still determined not to give up.
"All my life, I've managed to be a loser. Last week, I messed up the Sanderson job and cost the client an extra thousand dollars because I braced the cabinets wrong and had to redo the entire frame. When I was a kid, I never got good grades, I never got into college, and my parents thought I was a huge failure. 'Stupid, worthless son,' that's what the old man liked to call me. And let's not forget my legendary luck with women! I ruined a good thing with Cordy, and an even better thing with Anya, because I cheated on them. I'm Xander, King of Cretins and Master of Letting People Down, but not this time. No one else is gonna die today because I screwed up. I will make sure this scroll gets to Willow on time, so she can save the world...yet again. But I need you to help me, Spike, 'cause you're the only one who has any hope of getting out of this stupid cemetery!"
He yanked himself out of my arms and stepped away from me, and I can see him pull himself together after his little outburst. He's back to being calm, determined, we-who-are-about-to-die-salute-you Xander.
"Please, Spike. They'll find my tracks any second now and break down that door. At least make my death count for something. I'm not one-tenth the hero Buffy was, but she did teach me a thing or two about fighting the good fight. You say you loved Buffy. Well, if you really did, do this for her. She'd never give up and allow thousands of innocent people to die if there was anything she could do to stop it. Prove to me that you love and respect her and all the things that she stood for, and make sure Willow can stop the T'Shugroth leader from carrying out his plans."
So that's it then. I'm supposed to walk out of here, and let the whelp get ripped to shreds. Red and the others ain't gonna like it when I break the news, but he's right. The clock's ticking, and he ran out of options. I think he's an idiot to throw his life away like this, but I respect his decision. It is what Buffy would have done. But I won't just do this for her.
I'll help him because he's got balls. Christ only knows how Xander managed to get his hands on the artifact all by himself and make it this far in one piece. He could've punked out and dropped the scroll so he could save his own hide, but he didn't. He's seen how powerful those T'Shugroths are, and if he's been to their lair then he knows what they do to their victims. They have a particular fondness for eating human brains. Wonder if it would help if I convinced them Xander is seriously lacking in that department?
"You win. I'll do it, don't worry. It's been real...interesting knowing ya, kid. I'd say nice, but we both know I'd be lying." He smiles wryly at the jab, and thanks me.
I crack the door and peer out the crypt exit, waiting for a safe opportunity to slip outside. The rough voices of two demons speaking their gibberish tongue echo outside the door. It's going to be tough, but as soon as they turn around, I think I can make it to that tree over there. I'm quick, silent when I need to be, and I'm very good at sneaking and hiding in shadows; just some of the perks of being a vampire.
Before I take my exit, he makes one last request.
"Tell them that I love them, and that I wasn't afraid."
I've seen thousands of humans meet their deaths...to be perfectly honest, mostly because I killed them. I've seen it all: people crying, begging, screaming, pissing in their pants. Rarely have I encountered anyone who wasn't afraid when his or her number was up. But I believe him. He's not scared, because he's doing something he believes is right. I've thought many things about Xander Harris. He's a smug, mouthy, self-righteous little do-gooder with the worst fashion sense I've ever seen. He's still all of those things, but I also think he's one of the bravest humans I've ever met.
But I don't tell him that. I've still got a reputation as a bitter, surly vampire who hates everybody that I need to protect.
Now's my chance, so I take it. I don't say anything, and I don't look back at him. We aren't exactly enemies, but we aren't really friends, so neither one of us has much use for emotional good-byes. I pat the scroll, to make sure it's hidden and secure before I slip outside, silent as a corpse...'cos, duh, I am a corpse. I elude the demon sentries and make it to the small grove of trees to hide. They didn't spot me.
I sneak around the tree, and make my way to a huge, ornate headstone adorned with angels and cherubs. Tacky and ugly as all get out, but a good spot to hide behind.
"R-r-r-oar! You there!" A gruff, distinctly demon-like voice calls out from behind me, and I'm caught. "Stop where you are, meat!" Two ferocious arms grab me before I can run away. Christ, these blokes are strong! If he holds me any tighter, my bones are going to crack!
I change my features to let the T'Shugroth know I'm a vampire. "Hey! Leggo! Can't a demon hunt for his supper without being molested?" I try without success to shrug out of his grasp.
He growls in disgust. "Bah! You're not the boy we seek. You're just a pathetic bloodsucker. This foul place reeks of vampires. Soon we will rid this plane of everyone except my kindred clan of proud T'Shugroth. Waste not my time! Where is the thief? Tell me if you have seen him!" He lifts me by my neck, and I stuggle and choke in his grip.
"Urrr...don't...know...what you're talking about...mate," I manage to gurgle. "If I'd seen a boy around here...I'd have eaten him by now."
He doesn't like my answer. His razor claw reaches for my shirt, but before he can vivisect me, another demon voice bellows from my crypt.
"He is here! The interloper is found!" Several more demons pass us, snorting and snarling in hungry anticipation as they find their way back to the source of the shout. The demon drops me and follows his comrades, as I rub my crushed throat and struggle to my feet.
They have him.
I can barely make him out, because the trees are blocking my view and he's surrounded by ugly brutes. Part of me wants to stay and watch, to see the whelp struggle with the demons before they kill him. I'm curious to see if he can keep a brave face as they torture him and demand the return of their artifact. But it's not morbid fascination that compels me to want to watch. I feel like someone needs to witness his last stand, someone who can tell the tale of his final act of courage.
But I know I can't. I have a promise to keep, and there's only an hour or so left before the sun comes up. I turn around and run as fast as I can, away from Xander and the sound of his agonized screams, because I don't want to fail.
I won't screw up, Xander.
***** END *****