…MEMORY
Spike sees Angel
appear
in the alley
behind
the Hyperion.
"Boo,"
he
says stepping
out
of the shadows;
coming
face to face
with
his grand-sire.
"Anyone
else,"
Angel
asks.
He
can tell Angel is worried.
He
feels the same concern.
If
they are
the
only two left
there
is no way they
are
going to win this,
and
Spike knows
from
experience
that
dying isn't
exactly
a
recreational
activity.
"Not
so far.
Do
you feel the heat?"
"It's
coming,"
Angel
responds.
"Finally
got ourselves
a
decent brawl."
He
means for the comment
to
express excitement.
The
words leave his mouth
with
a bit of reluctance.
Though
the promise
of
battle
exhilarates
him,
Spike
also knows
that
this battle
may
be his last.
The
sound of
foot
steps
echoes
in
his
vampire ears,
and
Charles Gunn
shows
up
at
the end of the alley.
He
runs,
walks,
then
stops
in
front of
Spike
and Angel.
He
reeks of
his
own blood spilling.
"Damn,"
Gunn
exclaims,
"How
did I know
the
fang boys
would
pull through?
You're
lucky we're on the
same
side dogs,
'cause
I was on fire tonight.
My
game was tight."
Charles's
voice grows weak
and
so does his body.
He
begins to fall,
the
two vampires
catch
him before
he
can hit the ground.
They
set him
on
a crate and
Gunn
rests his back
against
the brick wall
behind
him.
Spike
looks at the
ebony
colored man.
He
has so many holes
poked
in him
Spike
is surprised
Gunn
made it to
the
alley at all.
"You're
supposed to wear
the
red stuff on the inside,
Charlie
boy,"
Spike
says in unhappy jest.
Gunn
ignores
his
own pain
and
inquires,
"Any
word on Wes?"
The
metallic clatter
of
chain-link rattling
resounds
around the men.
Illyria
leaps over
the
fence
landing
on her feet
on
the other side.
She
looks like
a
deranged cat
left
in the rain
and
something
about
her face is off.
She
does not
wear
her normal
blank
expression
but
one of
turbulent
anger
and
loss.
"Wesley's dead."
The
words plummet from
Blue's
lips
and
topple
on
Spike like bricks.
The
blonde vamp
hadn't
really been
close
to the watcher
but
he had
grown
to like
the
book man.
The
pain of his death
nips
at him a bit.
"I
am feeling grief for him,"
she
admits,
"I
can't seem to control it.
I
wish to do more violence."
Illyria's
eyes glaze over
with
cold hard determination.
Spike
turns his attention
to
an approaching crowd.
Demons;
thousands
of them.
A
massive army
of
horned and clawed
creatures
squeezing
themselves
into
the confines of the alley.
Bloody Hell!
"Well,
wishes just
happen
to be
horses
today,"
Spike
says.
An
enraged dragon
screams
from above.
"Among
other things,"
Angel
adds.
Gunn
accesses the situation,
"Okay.
You take the
thirty
thousand
on
the left…"
"You're
fading.
You'll
last
ten
minutes at best,"
Illyria
interrupts insensitively.
Charles
pries himself
from
his seat position
with
resolve.
"Lets
make them memorable."
Spike
come to stand
beside
Angel,
Gunn
and Illyria
follow
behind.
"In
terms of plan?"
Spike
asks Angel.
Peaches
always has a plan.
Spike
never plans,
but
using that
strategy
in battle
has
failed him in the past.
Surprisingly Angel answers with,
"We fight."
That's the plan?
"Bit
more specific?"
he
says hoping
Angel is joking.
"Well,
personally,
I
want to
slay
the dragon.
Lets
go to work."
As
the demons of darkness
attack
Spike
he
thinks of her.
He
tries not to
but
he can't help it.
He
thinks of Buffy;
gallivanting
around
Italy
with
Dawn
and
that wanker the Immortal.
Probably
having
the
time of her life.
Never
knowing
he's
alive,
never
knowing
he's
most likely
going
to die again.