Chapter 85 - Battles

Angelus gestured downward as Spike jumped away. “That thing you’ve got isn’t even supposed to exist. Everything written about it was very clear that it doesn’t actually exist.”

“Seems you didn’t do enough homework, then. And would you believe it was buried right here, too?”

Angelus advanced and slashed in a wide arc, causing Spike to move back. “I bet if I cut fast enough—well, I’m guessing it won’t help you if it’s no longer attached.”

Swinging the scythe, he leapt forward once again.
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Buffy watched in horror. Angelus knew about the gem. Angelus was trying to cut it off. He was focused on Spike and nothing else.

Her mind snapped back quickly. That also meant that he wasn’t focused on her.

Spike was retreating for the moment. And Angelus had his back to her.

Buffy began to creep forward. Her stake was in her belt, but she wouldn’t even have to get that close. Three feet away and she could cut off his head.

But she wasn’t the only one following another.

As she progressed, Buffy felt a tingle on the back of her neck. She sidestepped just in time to avoid a lunge from Drusilla, who had slunk around the edge of the room unnoticed. She was brandishing a fire poker.

Buffy turned, forced to focus on the immediate problem.
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Spike saw Dru nearly the same time Buffy noticed her. Buffy twirled around to face her, blonde hair and yellow top making her a sharp contrast to everything else.

Angelus quickly glanced over his shoulder. He grinned at the sight. “Let the girls have their fun. If it works out, I’ll have fun with both of them later. You can watch. ‘A blonde for a blonde,’ wasn’t it?”

Spike took the opportunity and sliced at Angelus with his axe. The other vampire deflected the blow and stepped out of range. Out of range for Spike, at least. Angelus still had the scythe.

“But I’ll kill you both quickly if I have to,” he continued. “You’ve got something worth more than a few days of fun and torment.” Angelus smiled. “Sometimes, it really pays off to listen to Drusilla. My first thought—” He twirled the scythe— “was to go hunt you down that day. But then I thought, well, if you really had something that made you invincible, that might not be the best idea, you know?

“So I took a little trip, did a little research. Kept it quiet. After all, I don’t want to have the same problem in a few years that you’re about to have. I did some reading.”

“Fascinating.”

“I even looked into magic. But it all seemed a bit unstable, and I want that trinket intact.” He ran his hand over the top of the curving blade. “So I settled on doing it the old fashioned way. And the hands on approach is definitely more fun.”

Angelus moved forward again, making a casual attempt at Spike’s upper body; Spike managed to block the weapon with his axe. The handles crossed and there was a brief struggle for leverage before Spike lost. He jumped back, retreating by necessity until he could get the upper hand.
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Fighting Drusilla was not as easy as it looked.

You would think that being insane would give a person no sense of strategy. But Drusilla moved like a snake, either avoiding Buffy’s sword or countering it effortlessly with the fire poker.

She was also very…looky. But Buffy remembered not to catch her gaze.

Spike and Angelus weren’t that far away—just far enough for her not to be any help. Buffy could hear Angelus going on about the gem, and she almost wished Drusilla would say something. She’d gotten used to bantering while fighting. It was part of her routine; it helped her mindset.

As if reading her thoughts, Drusilla spoke. “Soon all the sunshines will be taken care of.”

“Uh-huh.” Buffy dodged as Drusilla swung.

“I am sorry,” she said sincerely. “I did so want a little sister, but I think you’d just take up all of my Daddy’s time.”

Buffy charged, nearly catching her. “I’m an only child. Not so good with the sharing.”

Drusilla brought the fire poker down as Buffy’s sword came up. The end of the poker snapped off at the clean impact.

“Yes,” Drusilla said. “And I believe you’d break all my toys.”
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Angelus attacked again, swinging wide and low. He was getting predictable like that. Spike hit the scythe with the axe head in mid-arc, snapping the handle of the scythe neatly in two. The half with the blade clattered to the floor.

Angelus flung the other half at Spike in frustration. Spike struck quickly, catching him across the chest. The metal of the axe dug into Angelus’ flesh, but not deep enough to cut his heart.

Wounded and unexpectedly disarmed, Angelus attempted to draw back, only to trip on the remains of his scythe. The action sent him sprawling.

Angelus was at his feet. One more move and it was over.

Spike stepped forward.
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Buffy heard the scream.

She whipped around to see Spike falling and blood spurting and Angelus grinning triumphantly from the floor. He had the broken scythe in his hand. The cutting edge was stained red, and there was no question about where it had ended up.

Angelus was crawling halfway to his feet. Spike was down. She could see that he wasn’t in completely separate pieces. But it was bad.

Spike’s shin was open like a hinge.

Buffy didn’t think; she just reacted.

She plunged her sword through Drusilla’s stomach. It was by no means a killing blow, but it was the only opening she had. All she needed was a second’s distraction.

Pulling out her stake, she raced toward Angelus.

Ten feet away and he whirled the scythe at her. He barely turned around—didn’t even stand—but threw it behind him with an adept carelessness. And unquestionable accuracy.

She was too close to avoid it. Even as Buffy tried to evade the spinning projectile, it sliced into the side of her stomach as it flew past.

She thought it was strange that it didn’t hurt.

But it was wet. She was wet.

She knew it was blood. But if she didn’t look down, it hadn’t happened. Don’t acknowledge it and it won’t get worse.

Unfortunately, her body had other ideas.

Her knees gave way and she found herself falling to the stone.

Angelus glanced at her over his shoulder. “We can play later if you live. If not, oh well.” He shrugged, dismissing her completely, and turned back to Spike. “I have more important things to deal with.”

Spike was grasping at his leg. Angelus punched him in the face, sending him reeling back down. He ground Spike’s hand under his knee and then bent over, reaching for Spike’s foot.

No.

Buffy forced herself to her feet. She lunged, jumped with everything she had. He never saw her coming.

She landed heavily against Angelus’ back. Even as she hit him, she knew that he was the only thing holding her up. When her stake pierced his heart from behind, she continued to fall.

She landed face down, her body sprawled across Spike’s midsection. She barely managed to keep from cracking her head against the unforgiving floor.

And she knew she couldn’t get up.

Angelus’ dust continued to settle over both of them.
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Spike rolled Buffy to one side and curled to the other, reaching for his foot. Gritting his teeth and tearing his jeans out of the way, he lined up the nearly severed flesh and pulled. Even as the gem started to work, as bones and muscles fused and mended, it burned. Even when the blood-slicked skin showed no traces of ever being cut, a lingering throb remained.

Then there was a shadow over him. He saw Drusilla standing above them, sword raised over her head with both hands and aimed at Buffy.

Spike reached for Buffy’s dropped stake. He got to his knees, ready to plunge the stake upward into Drusilla’s heart—

When she exploded in a cloud of dust before his eyes.

The Watcher stood in the doorway, arm raised, crossbow still in hand. Spike just stared at him, his stake falling to the stone with a hollow thud.

It was over.

“Spike.” Buffy’s voice.

She still hadn’t moved. Buffy looked up from the floor, her expression vague and displaced.

And he realized she had much more than a flesh wound.

A deep gash crossed the side of her lower abdomen. Her pretty shirt was soaked through and blood was beginning to pool beneath her. Forty seconds ago she was perfectly fine; now she was dying.

“No,” he heard his voice saying. “No, no, no.” His hands were covered in crimson before he knew it, automatically pressing to staunch the flow.

One of her hands covered his. Spike met her eyes. Her face was pale, but she stared at him like he was the only thing in the room.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Despite the current that shot through him, Spike realized what was behind the words.

He swallowed. “None of that, now. You’re gonna be fine.”

“…have to…tell you.”

“You can tell me all you want when you wake up. Tell me then, all right?” His voice shook. “We’ll fix you up, pet, get you help, Buffy, just don’t—”

She was already unconscious.

A movement and a noise caught his attention, and he looked up to see the Watcher holding out his ripped jacket. Spike took it and tied it tightly around her. But the makeshift bandage was already turning red as he scooped her into his arms.

The other man walked close, his shoulder bumping Spike’s as they moved, his hands reaching over to apply pressure on Buffy’s wound.

There seemed an unspoken agreement that right now there was nothing but her.

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Xander was standing in the entryway.

There were no sounds from the room ahead. Only a dead silence. Which he wasn’t sure was a relief or not, after the anguished, inhuman howl only a moment earlier.

He was debating whether he should stay and guard the door, or see if he could sneak closer and help in some way. Xander was beginning to edge a few feet down the hall when a flurry of movement burst around the corner.

He froze at the sight before him.

“Oh, God.”

Buffy looked dead. She was crumpled in Spike’s arms, and Giles was walking quickly beside them.

She looked dead.

Some part of his brain registered that if she were dead, they wouldn’t be in such a hurry, and would look more devastated than desperate.

Giles tore one of his hands away from Buffy’s stomach to fish in his pocket. He threw the keys at Xander.

“Get the car!”

Dropping his axe, Xander plucked the keys out of the air and took off in a breakneck run out the mansion’s front door. He passed Willow and Oz, but only managed a “Buffy!” over his shoulder in answer to Willow’s questions. They’d see her and figure it out soon enough.

He reached the car in record time, grateful that they hadn’t all come on foot. Xander fumbled with the lock of the driver’s side door. Only as the keys nearly slipped from his hand did he realize that they were slick with blood.