Immortality
The figures around him faded by and by. Screams fell silent. Somewhere was a melody, a buzzing, or did it exist only in his brain? The metallic smell of blood filled him, but it wasn’t the same life spending juice, which he needed to survive. It was a toxic acid and the facial reflex brought it out again.
He felt that he was close to his death – again – but it did not made him anxious. No more. Again, it meant to fight for something more valuable than his own survival, a higher goal. But nevertheless, in the end it came still down to this, his survival. Reflexively he ducked to escape an imaginary attacker and he saw the sword slide through his body. But it did not hurt him.
Just an illusion?
From the corner of his eye he saw the dark skinned young man who was fatally injured. Spike was sure he had heard his silent scream, but he was unlabeled to help the man. His time had come. The vampire saw odd creatures climb up Gunn’s body, crushing him, until there was nothing left than a bloody mass.
Was it a dream? Why didn’t it hurt him? Why only his friends?
There was the former goddess. Her blue hair rose stood out of the grey sea which was the battle. Why did she fight? She had no reason to, but she was a valuable help. Again he noted that a sword drilled through his chest, but there was no pain – he felt nothing.
Was he already dead? Turned into dust, again a disembodied spook? Yes, he knew it well, but still this was different. Like a three-dimensional picture that awoke around him and he was the only thing real in this holography.
Everyone around him died, turned to nothingness, broke down and became a single dark mass of viscous, bloody slime. He was unable to move and then he saw ‘him’. Angel! His sword flashed in the darkness, though there was no source of light. A giant, flying creature circled around him. Angel knew it was his end, but he was laughing. In a way, he was greeting this end.
His warning scream didn’t reach Angel’s ears and even if it had, it would have been useless. He fought the dragon. But the real dragon – the one which his life had become - he couldn’t fight. His end was predestined.
The vampire resolved into small particles of dust before his very eyes, a smile on his lips. It became brighter when the dust settled.
Spike saw himself on the battlefield, deadly wounded, yet still with enough lifeforce in him, so he would not die - entirely.
Everything around him faded and then came back again. Like a time loop, which would let him experience everything again and again. He was caught in an infinite whirlpool of death and grief, and he was the only one for whom there seemed to be no escape. No redemption.
But at last something broke through this circle. A touch. Like a butterfly. And there was a voice.
Her voice.
Like a safety-belt for a drowning and he headed for it, ignoring the demons which attacked him over and over again but never seemed to land a hit. Taking his focus off from the death of his friends.
A face materialized in front of his eyes and he reached for it.
Her face. Her voice.
Nearly anxiously he expected that his hand would reached through her - that she wasn’t real, like everything else around him. But then his finger touched warm, living skin.
Her skin. Her face. Her voice.
Like a magnet it pulled him out from the swamp, until nothing more was there, only the room and – she.
„Buffy?“
Why was his throat so sore? Had he screamed? He could barely speak and the whispered name was barely more than a croak. With the exception of his arm, he could not move. And a wave of pain nearly ran him over with this realisation.
How long had he been here? His unspoken question reached her eyes and she smiled painfully. “We found you yesterday, you were totally nuts. We hurried up, when we learned of the fight, but we were too late.” He heard her sorrow, but there was nothing she had to atone or excuse for. It had not been her war…
„You always have to play the hero, haven’t you?” Her attempt at cheering him up, failed pitifully, because he heard the shivering in her voice clearly. Sadness? Fear?
“They’re all dead…” His croaked whisper was barely understandable. The pictures of this war still haunted through his mind, they tortured him, just like the pain of his countless wounds. It was a wonder that he had lived. No – live was the wrong word – he existed.
She nodded and a traitorous shimmer appeared in her eyes. She took his hand and he felt her warmth, which let him to realise that he was already dead. He was only a small step away from eternal darkness.
“Hang on.” She smiled piteously, but it was a needless plea. It was too late, but he wasn’t thankless. Whichever strange power had given him the chance to see her one last time, he was grateful for it.
Coughing he heaved bloody remains from his destroyed lungs. Felt his unreal life leaving him and his body giving out. But she hindered him, called him back again and again, until he open his eyes.
She held to his lips a cup with blood and made him drink. He did not want it, smelt and tasted that it was her blood, slayer-blood. Lightning flashed through his brain, reflections of a hundred years of unlife.
„Don’t leave me again.”
His imagination played evil tricks on him, but this special drink gave him back what he had wanted to give up.
He drifted again, but this time it was not the everlasting circle of the fight, only in a restful sleep.
When he woke, he saw her sitting next to the bed, next to him. Her fingers were still hooked up with his, but she slept. Her eyelids twitched uncontrollably, afflicted by wild dreams.
He felt guilty to be the only one who had survived. Which other tasks would destiny choose to lay atop his shoulders, until he might go at last?
Carefully he tried to free himself off her grasp, but she woke abruptly and smiled when she recognised that he was awake.
This smile hurt him more than his closing wounds. Those would heal, but not this feeling.
He had been so stupid, thought that he had conquered it and now, when she was there, it started again. However, he had himself under control again, not wanting to embarrass her. Thanking her for what she’d done and he saw her gaze going numb from disappointment.
What did she expected from him? His thank wasn’t very exuberant, he had not wanted this new life. It brought new woes for him, because now he was alone for the rest of his life and that could be a very long time indeed.
Still her fingers held onto his, but even when he told her that she could leave, she didn’t let go.
“Where to?” She asked him gravely, but he did not understand.
“Home,” His voice came back, still hushed, but not more croaking.
“I’m at home.” She whispered, breathing hard, as if the answer had been hard for her.
He still did not understand, or refused to understand something that should not be true. But then, there was a spark of hope, creeping back into his dead heart. Just to get disappointed again in the end.
His grasp became stronger, nearly breaking the small bones in her fingers, but she smiled and caressed his hair.
“What about...,” he started to ask, but she shook her head and placed a finger on his lips.
It wasn’t necessary – he knew now and he kept silent.
She crept up to him, allowed him to lay his arms around her shoulders and coiled up beside him. Like that last time, more than one year ago, when they had experienced a similar moment.
He inhaled her fragrance, filled his lungs with her smell, not wanting to let it out anymore. Contented he closed his eyes again. It would still take some time, until he would be back on his feet. But until that day, he would have gotten everything he had ever desired.
And the first time in his existence he felt immortality…
End
Author's Chapter Notes:
My first story here and i'm no native speaker. Please be gentle ;-)