A year before, a giant dragon flew overhead Angel, Spike, Gunn, and Illyria, as many other demons steadily marched forward. Gunn stood shakily, holding his side in agony, as Spike and Angel surveyed the mass of attackers.
"Well, personally, I'd like to slay the dragon." Angel smirked grimly, as it screeched above them, circling. The pounding around him drained out all sound, as his eyes narrowed, and he prepared to fight. Someone was talking, he couldn't tell who, but he shouted out to the small group of followers, as he swung his sword and chopped a demon approaching him in half. Behind him, Illyria fought tens at a time, and his fellow vampire took on three. Gunn held up, killing two, but then stumbling to the ground. Angel felt an urge to help him, but the rest of the demons kept coming, and he was busily fighting them off. All that was going through his mind was how many people he was doing this for. Wesley, Gunn, Fred…Buffy. He thrust his sword into another oncoming demon, and felt something hit him from behind. He fell to the ground, his eyes watering, looking through the rain at a thinning horde of demons. Illyria was wiping them out as quickly as ever, but was knocked back by an enormous troll, and she lay, still, on the ground beside him. Angel got up, again swinging his sword and hacking at anything coming near him, knowing he had to hold on a bit longer. The demons were disappearing, only a hundred or so left. Bodies lay all around him, and he kept adding more and more, getting hit again, but staying up. Again, Illyria was back in action, knocking them back until there were fewer and fewer. Hearing a cry of pain behind him, he whipped around, seeing Spike stumble backwards, clutching his chest. He stood, breathing heavily, catching a glimpse of Angel, his eyes widened. A demon came charging towards Spike, and Angel made a move to run towards him when…everything went black.
The morning sun beat down over many glistening bodies of dead demons down an alley. Angel's eyes fluttered open, and he gasped, backing away from the sun. He lay beside an overturned dumpster, Illyria, beside him, her head bleeding from an open wound, but breathing normally. Angel turned his attention to the setting. The troll, the dragon, and the army lay dead, motionless. He tried sitting up, only to lay back down, spotting a heap on the ground near him. The bloodied body of Charles Gunn lay lifeless on the ground, split into pieces and torn apart. Angel closed his eyes and looked down. He gasped as his eyes came to rest upon his legs, one completely gone, the other, badly ripped apart and limp. He grunted in effort to move, but only collapsed again. Illyria sat bolt upright, her eyes scanning around her. She stopped when she spotted Angel beside her, and stood up quickly. Angel looked up to her.
"What happened?" he rasped, his voice dry, and shaky. Illyria looked down at him and crouched beside him, taking a look at his leg.
"You are badly wounded." she said, blinking slowly. "Your mobility will be faltered, yet we need to get out of here. Can you move?" Angel shook his head, and sighed, looking into the alley. A long strip of shadow came from the building beside him, and engulfed a dark shape in a heap a few feet away. A blonde head rolled onto it's shoulder, and Angel took in a sharp breath. Illyria walked over to Spike, kneeling in front of him. His breathing was shallow, and came in hiccough like breaths. Angel screwed up his eyes and hung his head.
"Oh, God."
Illyria came towards Angel and slowly picked him up from under his arms, and dragged him down the line of shadow to where Spike lay. She then moved to the dumpster, pushing it towards Angel again, covering him completely in shadow. Angel leaned on the wall next to Spike, looking down his legs, sprawled in the sunlight, one side of him split open, a large axe head stuck into his side, his face, half covered in blood…
Sunlight?
Angel looked in amazement at Spike's sun covered legs. He wasn't smoking, or burning. He then realised, and shook his head slightly. He jumped slightly when Spike spoke.
"Shanshu thingy, am I right?" Angel looked up at Spike and nodded solemnly.
"Champion, with a pivotal roll in the apocalypse."
"Then why aren't you all down with the Pinocchio syndrome?" he chuckled slightly, then stopped, a pained look on his face. Blood trickled out of his mouth, down his chin. Angel couldn't watch.
"I signed it away. To the Black Thorn. Guess since I couldn't get it…"
"I got stuck holdin' the bag, eh?" Spike said darkly, taking a shuddering breath. "Where's Blue?" Illyria walked our from behind the dumpster and sat in front of Spike.
"So this is why you are different. I felt it. You're mortal?" she searched Spike's face, then turned to Angel. A look in her eyes reminded him of a child's, confused, but in know. Angel nodded, as Illyria examined Spike's wound. "You shall die soon, though. As mortals do…" she then went quiet, her thoughts somewhere else.
"And…Gunn?" Spike breathed the words, and Angel willed himself not to look over to the maimed body of his friend.
"He fell. I saw. He was," Illyria spoke before Angel could, "very brave. He fought until he was dead."
A pause, and everyone was silent, except for the laboured breathes of Spike. He groaned as he tried to release the axe from his side. Illyria grasped it and pulled, and Spike toppled over, grasping his side. He pushed himself up, and looked over to Angel, his head dropping to the side.
"Well, guess Angel's Avengers is out of business." he closed his eyes, and Illyria moved the dumpster once more, covering Angel and partially Spike. He shook his head, and looked up to Illyria. "No…I want to feel the-feel the sun." he said, pushing himself out into the middle of the alley, laying on his back and in the sunlight. He sighed heavily, his chest then rose very little as he breathed. Angel watched him as he smiled slightly. "Guess nothing ever happened then, for Buffy? She'll never even know I came back." Spike whispered this sadly, frowning slightly. Then he closed his eyes slowly, and opened them again. He sighed, and said, "Boy, I'm hungry." Angel chuckled, and smiled.
"That's you, Spike. Always thinking of the wrong thing at the wrong time. He looked over to Spike, and felt something in the pit of his stomach drop. Spike lay motionless, his chest no long rising and falling gently with new found air, his eyes open, staring dreamily above him, small, giddy smile on his face. Illyria looked down at Spike and lowered her head, her blue hair falling into her face. Angel moved closer to Spike, pulling him into the shadow again. He looked into the face of his friend, his foe, his student, and confidant for many years. Slowly, he lay down the head of William, and closed his eyes. The end was there for a noble vampire, who gained life so quickly, then lost it at the same pace.
Illyria quietly moved towards them, and kneeled in front of Spike. Angel raised his eyes to her, and they sat glumly in silence. She let out a stifled sob, and then spoke.
"I do not wish to do this any longer. I am sorry." Angel looked at her in surprise.
"Sorry? For what?"
"I took something of value to you. Fred. I've used this body for…nothing. I have gained nothing in this except for it to be taken away. I've felt guilt, and anger, and-and.." she shuddered, and felt her face, "pain. I don't see why we fought for what we did. But inside, I felt as if I owed something. Now that my debt has been paid, I no longer wish to continue with this." She looked at Angel with icy eyes, and Angel nodded. She turned her gaze to Spike again. "I don't understand why humans do what they do. Mortals. Foolish. Fighting for what they will never grasp or come to know. Everything I like has been taken away. Spike, Charles…Wesley…" she stopped and closed her eyes, whispering this last word as if, when she spoke it, it burned her inside. "I will help you one last time, but then…I cannot continue." They then sat in silence, the busy L.A. scene going on behind them, and no one recognising the loss that had been suffered. A brilliant scientist, her powerful, wise, warlock lover, an ex-lawyer with a heart of gold, a kind hearted man, misunderstood through life, and the end of an age in which evil ruled over most.
A.N. This chapter is posted and dedicated to my one word wonder, red lighting. The only person to review my fic. nod Thanks!
Remember, theres more to come!