Work Text:
“Spike,” Ash hisses, conspirational.
He finally gives in and lets her tug him to the side as the group spread through the sprawling corridors of the school. Her eyes are alight as she pauses behind that doorway.
“Kinda got places to be, love,” he ways, smiling anyway. Trying to hide it.
“I know,” she pants, glancing down the hallway, “but I… I have to tell someone. You always say how bad it is to be distracted in a fight…”
Her own smile is breaking through, like sun behind clouds. She’s excited, he can tell by the way she’s rambling.
“Bloody spit it out, then,” he urges, “if it’s worth delaying the world-saving for.”
“I’m not delaying anything!” she gripes, but finally sets her shoulders and smiles resolutely, clouds burning away. “I figured it out,” she breathes, certain yet disbelieving, “I dreamed again, and I saw some more and… I think I know. Where it all started. How to break the cycle.”
Hope sings in her eyes and Spike’s face goes slack with shock, but the more she speaks, the more his insides mirror her elation. After all those times seeing her gaze dead and hunted, after so long seeing her watching for the day death would catch up to her after so long at her heels… There was a way out.
“You’re serious?” he blurts, realising she’s been waiting a pinch too long for him to get his thoughts in order and say something.
“Yeah.”
She nods almost imperceptibly. Entrusting him to share her resolution. She glitters with determination and… peace. She has power, for the first time. She’s ready. Her whole life ahead of her.
His hand climbs almost subconsciously, brushing her elbow, hovering by her waist. In return, she grasps his forearm, squeezing an assurance.
“That’s…” a breath falls from his lips, unable to find the words, but her shining eyes say she understands.
He can feel her breath, so close, and feel her trembling. This girl gets to live.
“What now?” he ventures, intense gaze not breaking with hers.
Her lips curve into a smile, one that’s carefree and true.
“Now the world needs saving.”
~
“Spike!” Ash screams, panicked.
That cry will haunt him for the rest of his unlife.
He has quick reactions – supernaturally quick – but that time, he isn’t quicker than the stake already swinging towards his back. When he turns, it's already found its mark.
He stares at the scene in front of him, uncomprehending. Ash has her back to him, hair still swinging from her sudden leap in his direction. Instinctively, he jumps to her side, dispatching the demon which faces her, its eyes glittering to the last with menace, even as its head is slices from the body, thunking side-by-side to the ground. Normally, Ash would be right there with him, fighting.
But she isn’t.
Still panting, Spike whirls back and notices two things. One, the stake which rolls from the demon’s dead hand, stopping at his feet. It’s soaked with blood to the hilt.
Two. Ash.
He moves in the same second gravity takes her, arms circling to catch her. They fall together, Spike lowering her onto his lap as he kneels, one hand supporting her head and the other holding her arm. He tugs it in frantic, jerky movements, tries to press her hand, below his, over the wound.
That stake would’ve killed a vampire. Would have killed him. But where he would simply turn to dust and crumble around it, Ash is left with the gruesome evidence carved into her chest. Blood pours around their fingers, flowing from the chasm without restraint.
“Come on… No, no…” he mutters feverishly, not noticing until a strangled voice cuts through.
“Spike… Spike…”
Her words are no better than gasps. Raising his eyes to hers, he finds them reflecting his in horror. In that wide, petrified stare, he sees something which clutches his heart and doesn’t let go. As if that stake did find its way to his chest, after all.
He’s seen it in her eyes before. Too many times, starting from that very first flashback. The look of someone staring death in the face. Someone who knows it’s time, knows they can’t claw it back and that their last footing in the world is about to give way. She’s felt it more than most, he knows, across lifetimes that have never been kind to her.
Never let her grow old.
But that expression doesn’t belong in this lifetime. Not on his Ash.
Just when they thought there was a way out.
“Just… just hold on,” he urges, gathering her close, “you’re… you’re gonna be alright...”
“Spike…” her voice quavers, but it’s steadier than his. One hand lifts towards his face, fingers brushing his chin. He catches it with his bloody one, unable to bear letting it fall away.
“It’s ok…” she whispers, and everything inside him shatters. This is real.
Her hand is growing heavier in his, unable to hold it up herself. The scent of her blood is all around him.
“You can’t…” he pleads, clutching her hand and pressing his face to it, “I can’t lose you. Wh-what’s the use in saving me if it kills you?”
“Don’t.” Her voice scratches. “Just… hold me.”
He obliges, because there’s nothing else he can do. When did he not cave to her? He thinks about healing her with his blood again, would scratch himself open with his own fingernails to do it, but the warmth is leaving her too quickly, her eyes losing their spark as he watches. He never knew his life was stored in there, too, until he feels it draining from him right along with hers.
Hoisting her closer, his hands shake, holding tightly as the can.
“It was going to be different,” he murmurs.
The world is caving in, crushing him, until it’s only him stooped over her dying body. He’s the only reason her hand is still reached out to him, no strength left. The other slumps at her side.All that remains is her eyes on him – all that remains is the love in them, soft but sure.
“It… it is different.” Her lips move around the words, the sound only making it as far as his ears. Like she’s already a ghost. “I’ve never died for love before.”
His shoulders shake and there are furious, hot tears flooding, spilling from his eyes, but he never once looks away.
“You… you sodding- thick-headed-”
His mouth is thick, voice breaking. He trails off, rage and impossibility paralysing him as she slips away. He thinks her mouth quirks at his words, but a lone tear breaks free of her eye. She never wanted this either. He’s witnessed the spectre of death chasing her, watched her fling herself at the bars of its cage and live on regardless.
Now, just like even moment before, time races on, leaving them behind. She’s nearly gone.
“I love you,” he says, because there’s nothing else left. Nothing else but his stupid love, which would live infinitely longer than she did. Which wouldn’t break as easily as her life. Which still hadn’t been enough to save her, his stubborn, heroic, brilliant, brave girl.
With one last flicker, her fingers twitch. Just enough to reach his face, her fingertips landing on his tears. She looks at him, her eyes open til the last.
“Until the next…”
Her voice dies with her breath. Dies with her eyes. There’s nothing there anymore. His love is alone.
Spike crumbles, collapsing over her body, holding her to him. He can’t breathe for tears, can’t see for grief. The demons are forgotten; he could be staked right then and there for all he cared.
But the demons were gone. The others had got here at some point, but no one dares close the distance to where Spike sobs over their friend.
World saved. Spike saved, too. But there are no smiles that night, no celebration. Only tears.