Max angst level I want in my story: 4
Up to two characters I definitely want: Spike, Dawn
Scenario: it's the end of the world! Again!
Rating: NC-17 (if you can swing it)
Restrictions: no Bitch!Buffy, you can kill anyone but Xander
For David Beckham And All The Bloody Greyhounds
She landed on a stack of cement blocks, then bounced. Spike could hear her bones shatter as she hit. Just as the old man's bones had. Just as his had. The old man wasn't a man, and he and tucked his tail between his legs and crawled off to look for his goddess. The Slayer's just a girl in the end, and this fall was more than any girl could walk, or even crawl, away from. The sweet aroma of her blood came to him, and as sweet as it was, he couldn't breathe it in. It hurt his .... ribs to suck it in.
First thing he learned, years ago, is the smell of the morning air. There's a tartness to it that you best recognize quick, else you find yourself lit into a corner, or behind a piece of plywood, as the case may be. It lay under the sweetness of the Slayer's blood, telling him that, behind the glowy magic clouds, Mister Sun's ready to come out and play. He heard Red's voice in his head, an exhausted voice calling for order. She stumbled over the words. She knew the needs but not the terms. "'Defensible perimeter', you stupid bint", he heard himself say. The taste of water and salt touched his tongue as he said it.
He smelled the others, even as he kept his eyes on the blocks. Red's girl, wandering around looking for Glory-knows-what. The Watcher, taking weapons off the bodies of the simples. Red, desperation and fear coming off her in waves. The forces of hell would be coming through soon, she knew as he knew. They had a hard enough time with the Bitch Queen and her trolls, not to mention Sunnydale's 1st Foot (the Hellgod's Own Loonies). Like fighting ants, they were, with each fighter not being much but all of 'em fighting under control of the queen. Add to that his not bein' able to hurt 'em and the Slayer's idiots not being willing, and that explains why the fight was even a fight. If they had just dropped their namby-pamby ethics and let loose on the nut squad, then the Slayer...
He recognized the heavy footsteps on the metal ramp. It wasn't until they closed in that he noticed the other one, but the iron smell was unmistakable. "'Lo, bit", he whispered. The pieces of his ribs ground together as he spoke.
"Spike!" There was no reason for Monkey Boy to yell. "Spike! We need you to watch her. There's a ... a green thing ... with horns, and we need you to keep an eye on her. Can you do that?"
No. Can't do a goddamn thing, can he? Tried to make her love him, made bloody mess of that. Tried to be the hero, got tossed to the side. Can't do a bloody thing right.
"Spike. For the love of ..."
"I can hear you." The words slipped out between sobs. "I have her. Go."
The bit bawled into the leather and the fake cherry of her shampoo flooded his senses.
He eased her back, toward the wall and away from the streetlights. By description and sound, it's a Nig-Si. The green ones are a right pain, but they hunt by sight, not smell.
He could hear Red's orders in his head. She'd sent the befuddled ones into the breech against the green thing. Or at least she tried to. They tend to lack discipline, and their lines were not holding. He could hear them being flung into walls in the distance.
"She ..."
"Hush, bit. Just let it out..." He petted her head, running his fingers over her hair, past her neck to her shoulder.
"No! She said she figured it out!" She pushed herself up, away from him. "She solved it! She said ... and then she turned and she ...."
"Yes. Yes, she did, luv." He used his good arm to push himself up. The other one wasn't solid enough to do it. "Can't see the logic in it, myself, but she must've thought she sussed out somethin'. Solved the whole lot."
"Dawn." The voice surprised them both. Monkey Boy came around the corner, hair matted with blood. Drips of blood run parallel to the stripes of his shirt. He held his demon lover, carrying her. She didn't hold him back. Her head and arms lay limp. Her eyes were open.
"Dawn. She's ... she's hurt. She's hurt bad. I have to get back. Please, do you think you could try to ...."
Dawn stood up, leaving a place to lay her down. "If you put direct pressure on the wounds, that'll help stop the bleeding." He stood up again, unsteady, shaking and leaning against the wall. Dawn started to tear fabric from the bottom of her dress. "Please, let her be OK."
Dawn looked up, eyes still red and puffy. "I will. I'll ... I'll take care of her. Go."
Xander more staggered than walked into the still-dark street.
Spike put his hand out, on top of Dawn's. "Bit...." She pushed it away.
"Help or not, Spike, but don't get in the way. I have to take care of her. I promised."
"I heard, nibblet. I was here."
"I promised her! She told me I had to take care of them." She wiped a tear on her sleeve, then started leaning on the bandage on Anya's shoulder. "I have to take care of her. I have to."
"But, bit, she's gone. Her heart's stopped. She was gone before he turned the corner."
Dawn collapsed, crying, on Anya's chest.
"Come, bit. I can fix it. I can fix everything."
Dawn leaned into his hug, her tears spilling down his black t-shirt. He gave her squeeze, then tightened as he moved his arm up toward her head.
Dawn lifted her head. "Are you...."
"Just a bit of pain, luv. Nothin' for you to worry your pretty head about."
After she settled down and her breathing steadied, he reached up and started petting her hair, as he had done before.
Her neck snapped gently. The pain locked his muscles, so he couldn't cry or call out, even as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds.