Written for Spring Spangel ficathon on livejournal.
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At first he could feel his presence. Knowing the blond had his back was almost comforting. He’d rarely wanted the other vampire dead, (not ‘forever’ dead anyway) and they fought, each other and others, really well. He didn’t feel the exact moment they disconnected.
For a long time after, he could feel nothing; hear nothing but the thud of bodies, the clang of blades, inhuman cries. His entire self was numb with exertion; he was past the point of pain. He just put one foot in front of the other and made his way through the mêlée.
When Angel was suddenly swooped up by the dragon’s clawed feet, he sung his weapon as hard as it could and it dug into the side of the beast, oozing its pungent blood. It hovered around, screeching loudly and let him go. He used his purchase on the weapon to ease himself up onto its back. He grabbed on to what he imagined were ears as the dragon tried to buck him off.
For a fleeting second, he thought if Spike were up there with him, he’d be screaming yea-haw.
He stabbed the dragon in the back with all his might. The spasm sent him careening through the air and he fell with a thud onto the roof of the Hyperion. The dragon let out a wail so loud some of the demons on the ground exploded; Angel’s teeth rattled and his insides shook. When the thing touched down on a nearby rooftop to nurse its wounds, it turned immediately to stare at Angel. The vampire raised his weapon to it.
If Spike were with him he’d be bouncing with adrenaline, talking about the rush and screaming to the dragon he was coming for him.
He had taken a moment earlier to think about this last day. To think about Cordelia and Doyle. Darla even. To ask them to look down if they could, to ask for strength. And then Illyria arrived with news of Wesley and they all stood there, ready to die. He’d emptied his mind.
Now that he felt a little hope, he let himself scan the crowd. Illyria was up ahead near the portal, decimating anything that came within striking distance. She was fighting like a machine, but she had felt human grief. It made him wonder what would happen to her.
He couldn’t see much else, rain and blood in his eyes. He thought a certain bleach job would have jumped out at him. He leaped down the high building and landed on his feet, the immediate pain in his legs a welcome change.
He was not attacked right away. Something was happening.
The fight was being directed. He heard shouts, a familiar voice above it all.
“Hold the line. Keep your eyes open. One at a time. Ain’t one of them going to step into that Hotel, because if they do, Andrew is probably going to let them right out the door. This is our world, you hear me? This is our world.” He saw girls of different shapes and sizes holding back the onslaught. He saw Faith barking orders at them, fighting at their side.
When she saw him, she said “it’s not ending today, Angel,” and she smiled while flipping a demon over her shoulder, and he wanted to believe her.
Willow was throwing magic from a nearby rooftop, fireballs and paralyzing spells as far as he could tell. He heard ‘get to a wall’ clear as day in his own head and he ran for it. The dead dragon came crashing down in the middle of the alley, effectively taking a good chunk of their adversaries out of the race.
He scanned the survivors for his people.
He followed the distinct smell of blood to an offshoot alley and saw Gunn sitting with his legs outstretched, clutching his stomach. He was blue around his mouth and color had definitely drained from his face. He was still shaking and shivering. His chances, if possible, looked worse than before. Angel could see the life slowly trickling out of him.
Spike was kneeling in front of him with his hand on the wall near Gunn’s head. Spike was also bleeding profusely.
Angel had to lean on the wall as the smell overwhelmed him completely. He felt his eyes turn and his fangs itch. He was famished and the blonde’s familiar blood called to him. He remembered exactly what it tasted like. He dreamt about it sometimes.
If Spike (the one who had showed up a ghost a year prior) were with him, he’d slap him across the head.
He zoned in on their conversation.
“You’re sure Charlie? You know it ain’t half bad, although I guess being around our broody leader probably gave you the wrong idea.”
“I can’t Spike. My sister… I had to kill her, you know. Only it wasn’t her and if you tell me different… I just want to see my sister all right? And Fred and Cordy. And right now I believe I will.”
“You’re delirious, mate.”
“I don’t care. It’s done. I’m done.”
“We disagree on the ‘done’ part then,” Spike answered, closing his eyes against his own pain, physical or otherwise. “You know that stomach wounds can bleed out for hours?”
“Yeah, about that? Can I trust you?”
“Of course not. Haven’t you learned anything?”
Gunn smiled. Angel smiled; he would have answered the same thing.
Gunn took some wheezing breaths before leaning back against the brick, looking up at the sky. “I want you to snap my neck.”
“And waste all that tasty blood?” Spike teased.
“Yes.”
There was a long silence where they stared at each other.
“Tell me when you’re ready.”
“I’m past due, dog, I need to get going.”
Angel watched Spike quickly do what was asked, then shut the man’s eyes with his hands and laying him down so his head didn’t hang at too much of an odd angle.
“How long have you been standing there, Peaches?”
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he answered, gritting his teeth at the loathed nickname.
“You didn’t want to say goodbye? Maybe do the honors? He’s known you a lot longer.”
Angel didn’t answer. Spike got back to his feet.
“Well, best be getting back, lots more demons to kill,” the blond said, teetering from his own blood loss.
“Spike.”
“Yeah, mate.”
“I don’t hate you, you know that right?”
“I know. You hate that you love me, yeah?” Spike asked, but didn’t sound like he believed it.
“Maybe,” Angel answered, though a corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“Well I hate you.”
“Alright.”
“And I’m going to annoy you every single day of your unlife.”
“Alright.”
“All we have to do is get through this mess.”
Angel felt strength wash over him. He didn’t know if Willow was using a spell or if his dead soldiers were infusing him or if the blatant optimism of Spike’s words had simply giving him a second wind. He didn’t care. He smiled. Spike looked scared. Spike looked hungry, actually.
“Spike?” Angel asked, knowing for the first time in both his blood and his heart that he was staring at family. Family who needed him. Family whom he needed.
“Yes.”
“I think… I think I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Well, get to it then, you never used to have to ask.”
THE END FIN-
