Chapter 38 - Nothing Left to Fight For
It's almost the last thing I expect. The demon in front of me laughs. He laughs, chillingly, almost hysterically, but I can't see what could possibly be the cause.
"Silly, silly little girl. You're not going to destroy me. You couldn't possibly. You can fight, maybe even hurt me, I grant you that. But I can heal myself instantly."
As if to prove the point, the gash I managed to make down his arm heals along its length, almost like an invisible zipper is pulled.
"See? It's nothing. You're nothing. Once, you were the Chosen One. But not for long. Within a few months you were just one of two, and now? You're one of thousands. There's nothing special about you, nothing unique, so how could you possibly be a threat to me?"
"Don't really care about the how," I counter. "All this talking is just giving me another reason to kill you, because I suspect it'll be the only way I can shut you up!"
With that I lunge again, but now, he seems to be living up to his name. He moves impossibly fast, and every time I launch an attack, it's late. He doesn't even appear to be trying to fight back; maybe if he did, I'd get a better handle on actually hitting him.
"I thought this was a fight, you know, to the death? Because so far, you haven't made any attempt to kill me."
"I hardly have to," he sneers. "You're not presenting any threat to me, so why should I bother?"
"Maybe because you'll get me out of your hair? How's that? Maybe I can be even more irritating than you can with the non-stop talking. It's funny," I say, making another lunge in his direction. "With everything you've got, you've got nothing."
"I'd hardly call being one of the three most powerful beings on the planet nothing," he retorts, and I feint to the left before trying another attack.
"I'd call it nothing. What have you got that matters? I've met a few Carnolans. Seems to me, they're not so much different from humans. They need others; they fall in love. It doesn't matter how much you've got if you don't have someone to share it with. I learned that the hard way. I thought I was so much better than Spike. I threw his love away, told him it was nothing, but when he was gone, I was lost. I managed to get the things I thought I wanted - normality, not having to save the world, no responsibilities beyond the normal ones, and my life was empty. But I've got something you'll never have."
"My dear girl, you talk a good talk, you really do. The fact remains that you have nothing left to fight for. You're angry, I can see that. But the longer I keep you at bay, the less the anger will be important. Because this love that you're extolling the virtues of makes you weak. When your brain finally comes to terms with the fact that your partner and friends are gone, you'll crumple, and I'll cut you down so easily it'll be laughable. I'll extinguish your life because I've already extinguished your spirit. And then, I'll let you bleed to death slowly, the power of your blood my ticket to supremacy within the three that are Wolfram and Hart."
Throughout, I keep trying to find a way in, a way to get through his defences, but he's tough. Or, more to the point, he's fast. And then it hits me. I can't get ahead of him because I'm relying on the bits of me that make me human. I'm relying on sight and hearing. What I need to do is reach down deep inside me to find the extra that comes with being a Slayer. I remember Giles trying to teach me that, way back, but I didn't completely understand. I got bits of it, but I never got completely there. I know it's possible, I just have to reach deep enough. I pull back, breathing deeply and concentrating on feeling it, on harnessing my instincts.
But the harder I try, the more elusive it feels. I feel this fog descending on me, making everything harder, and concentration all but impossible.
"It's coming, isn't it? The grief, the mind-numbing grief that'll sap you of the will to do anything other than curl in on yourself until you're so insignificant it'll be like tramping on a bug when I kill you. I'm going to relish that moment, keep the details in my mind and force those same details into the minds of anyone who cares for you. They'll see you, finally humbled and destroyed, and I will triumph."
He's talking and I can hear the words. But, I'm not conscious of getting any meaning from those words. I'm struggling to reach into myself and find what I need, but it's getting harder with every passing second. I mentally shake myself, giving up for now on trying to find something extra and launch another attack. This time, my attempt is laughable – so far off my aim I can hardly believe it. I remember Spike's lessons on how to kill a Slayer. And I finally see that he was right. It's not down to someone having a good day so much as the Slayer having a bad one. And today's got to count among the worst I've ever known. My Slayer instinct has deserted me; there's nothing left. He's watching me and I feel he's right. I feel so alone and it scares me, terrifies me as nothing ever has.
Back at the start, when that prophecy said that the Master would kill me, I was angry. Because, more than anything then, I wanted to live. I wanted it with everything I was, every fibre of my being. Now? He's right. There's nothing left, nothing to fight for. Death is starting to seem like a welcome alternative. Heaven. Memories of my time in heaven are shining in my mind like beacons trying to bring me home. If only I could be sure Spike would be there too, then I'd be gone.
And then I see him. In my mind, Spike's holding out his arms to me, welcoming me into heaven and I feel the tension leaving me, and the tears I had been holding back start to flow full and strong. He's right. This demon, this evil thing, is right. My time here is over. It's time to go back to heaven. Time to leave this world that'll be empty without Spike.
It's too much effort to stay upright. My knees buckle under me, and I crumple, jarring my knees on the floor as I land. I don't feel any pain, at least, not the physical pain. I see again the horror that was Angel turning to dust with a crossbow bolt through his heart. I see Wesley, bleeding to death, knowing that Gina was dead or worse. And I see Spike, in my mind's eye, being devoured, hear his scream again. There's nothing I can do. It's all perfectly clear now. There's nothing I can do.
I don't know how long I'm there, cowering on the floor, lost in my own misery, but my next external awareness is of the Hart standing over me, his sword in his hand.
"I could make this easy," he says, as if considering the possibilities. "But then again, the more Slayer blood is spilled, the more powerful I become. So, maybe we should make it a little slower."
I hear the words, but they don't make sense. I feel the pain of a slash across my wrist, and see the blood flowing from the wound. I'm mesmerised by it, watching it pool on the floor below me just like it did with Wesley. This is it, I'm checking out, leaving this life, drop by drop. And for once I'm sorry I'm a Slayer, with the strength and the enhanced healing because it'll take a lot of lost blood to kill me, so it's not going to be quick. I wish it could be.
They say your life flashes before you when you're dying, don't they? Well, I don't see my life, or at least, not all of it. Then again, maybe I see the important bits. I see Spike at his most glorious, saving the world, and feel again the truth of the words I tell him before I abandon him to his end.
And I see him returned to me, feel the joy of having him back, and remember the happiness of the short time we had together. And then we're back at today. Everything that happened from the time we walked through the portal progresses slowly through my head, every word, every detail.
"No sword," I mutter, getting to the point where Angel turned to dust. He had no sword. Neither did Wesley or Spike.
I can still feel my own sword in my hand, hard and real, and my eyes are drawn to the beauty of the workmanship. It's there. It's in my hand. This, with the Hart, is different to what happened to the others. I could defend myself. They couldn't. Why? Why?
"They're playing with your mind."
I hear Spike's voice replaying in my head. They're playing with my mind.
I know I'm weakening. I must've lost a lot of blood by now. There's something there, something important. I just need to find it. I need to find the strength to think, to not give up. Spike's voice, in my head, telling me to think.
"You're playing with my mind," I say, my voice clearer than I expect.
The Hart is standing over me, shaking his head.
"Naturally," he replies. "You resisted at first, but inevitably, you succumbed. It doesn't matter. You are history."
I close my eyes, and I hear him laugh again, convinced of his victory. And then I feel it, deep down, the Slayer instinct. If only I had the strength to tap it, to feel it throughout my being.
"They're playing with your mind." Spike's voice again. And then it makes sense. The reason there's only one of them here. There are another two, so why have I only seen the Hart? Why am I the only one to keep a weapon?
It wasn't real.
That means that they're not gone. Spike's not gone. Wes, Angel, …
And with that knowledge, I feel the strength returning to me. No, not physical strength, because that's ebbed away with my blood. No, it's something else, but it's real, and I think I can use it instead of purely physical strength.
Without opening my eyes, I pull myself to my feet. I sense that the Hart is surprised, but I also know that he's greedy enough to want my heart to keep beating a little longer, continuing to pump my blood over the floor. I reach deep into the well of Slayer within me, feeling for it, gathering it into a ball of energy within me, willing it to build until it's become an irresistible force.
"Slayer, you're too late," the Hart's voice hardly impinges on my consciousness. "You may be standing, but you're not really alive."
Almost unable to marshal the energy I feel inside, I launch it into an attack, my arm moving faster than it's ever moved before, slicing the Hart through the neck, all the way, and I hear his head landing on the floor with a thud, immediately followed by the clatter of my sword which has slipped from my hand.
The energy dissipated, I crumple again. Lying there, my only view is that of a severed head, the expression on his face one of total surprise.
It's a pity it all seems a bit late for me. And then, I close my eyes because I really don't want to look at that face. I want to see Spike, and as soon as my eyes are closed, he's there, smiling that gentle smile he saves just for me. It's a smile that radiates such love that it warms me all over. And then, he starts to fade, as if someone is turning down the light, it's getting darker, and darker.
"Stay with me, Spike," I manage to say, and the last thing I see is his nod of agreement before the blackness becomes total.