Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel
Character/Pairing: Spike, Spike/Angel, Spike/Buffy, and several mentions of Spike/Others
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike: 10 Things... That Broke Spike's Heart
Warning(s): Character Deaths, Future Fic
Word Count: 1,977
Date Written: 4 April 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
As a Big Bad, he's had his heart broken too many times. He's loved and lost those he's dared to love far more times than any of the children of this latest millennium can begin to guess. They see him now as the image of the man he once was: Wrapped tight, black leather, blowing the smoke of his fags into the faces of those he doesn't like, he does what he likes and takes what he wants.
Like the days of old, he no longer has rules by which he feels he must abide. He plays both sides of the fence, crossing over whenever it suits him best. Things aren't black and white now, but then they never were, not even when Buffy and her group was in charge. He lived like this once before. It was when he suffered his third broken heart, after Cecily's laughing rejection of his admirations and the tragedy that trying to turn his mother became, that the party times came to an abrupt end.
He didn't know what was going to become of their little group when Angelus first got cursed with his soul. He had known he could lead, but he had also known that Darla wouldn't listen to him. True to his fears, he and Dru finally had to cut free of the bloodthirsty, blonde Vamp when her plans almost cost them Dru's life in Prague. Spike barely managed to escape with his Princess at the time, but even though he cared for her and carefully rebuilt her body and life for her, his Princess eventually left him -- for a bigger, badder Demon no less.
Maybe he's never really been cut out to be the Big Bad. Maybe that's been part of his problem all along: caring when he claims not to care, not wanting to become as ruthless as Angelus or Darla, always finding somebody in his life to whom his heart surrenders completely. First, that person was Cecily, then Drusilla, and finally Buffy. He thought he would never recover from having her die in his arms. Her death broke his heart not once but twice, and although he could have resurrected her again, he'd promised her that he would make certain she got to rest in peace the next time she went to Heaven.
And he did. God help him, but he did. He fought Willow on the issue tooth and nail. He held Dawn as she railed against him and against the world, but it was his smooth words that finally broke through to her and the redhead. Buffy had asked them to let her rest, to not be selfish again, and they had all agreed. It had just broken their hearts again to abide by the words they had given.
Of course, the Watcher, Willow, and even little Dawnie all eventually died on him as well, each taking a part of his heart with them. It was something he hadn't fully counted on when he'd first became a Vampire. He'd thought he could simply change those he loved to join him in his Immortal life, but his mother had been the first to show him just how wrong those thoughts had been. Looking back now, he knows she didn't really hate him. The words of hate she'd thrown at him after he'd tried to bring her over had been mostly the Demon talking, and what little truths had slipped out from her own tongue hadn't been truths at all. She'd said what she'd needed to say to convince him to move on and leave her in peace. At least Buffy hadn't had to act like she hated him.
She had come to love him at last. Every night, he takes what solace he can from that knowledge and continues on. The Slayers think he's just another evil Vampire now; the other Vampires think he's still got his lot thrown in with the Slayers. The truth is, he's finally his own man. He does what he wants when he wants, but he's still fighting the good fight. He's still taking up the causes Buffy herself would have championed if she'd still been alive. He's still bringing honor to her memory and choosing his battles as she'd want him to, fighting because he needs to to survive -- he needs to feel something these nights besides grief and loneliness, and the only time he does is when he's pummeling somebody or being hit by them -- but fighting for the causes she'd choose if she was still here because, after all this time, he still wants to make her proud.
They both do, he reflects, glancing over at Angel who's an equally fast blur of black leather, snapping fangs, and pumping, white fists. They're both fighting for her memory. They do every night. It's the only way they get through these endless hours.
It doesn't matter that they're fighting a rogue group of Slayers who have taken the innocent daughter of a high, important Congressman. Angel remembers the Congressman from his days with Wolfram and Hart, before Spike joined his team, and knows the man isn't about to shed one penny or one tear for the girl he considers an accident. It's up to them to free her and get her back to her mother, because nobody else is going to bother to fight for the runaway child.
Suddenly, the fighting slows. Spike's heart churns; his stomach flops, going low and sour. "ANGEL!" he bellows out, sensing what's about to happen, but it's too late for even as his name leaves Spike's mouth, a stake appears in the middle of Angel's heart. Everything happens before Spike's tearing eyes as though in slow motion: Angel looks first shocked, then sorrowful, and suddenly . . . happy, relieved. Spike bats his eyes, not daring to believe what he's seeing, not wanting to believe as he tears through the rogue Slayers flanking him.
He literally just throws the girls away from them as he catches Angel in his arms. The man he's alternatively fought, fucked, and yes, even loved gazes up at him as Spike catches him. "Don't," he manages to gasp, "fight for me." And then he's gone, his ashes raining down on Spike, and Spike's heart is broken yet again. He roars in agony, in grief, and lashes out. He breaks necks, arms, and legs, just reaching out, grasping what human body parts belonging to the Slayers he can, and ripping them.
Finally, the girls run, screaming. Left alone, Spike collapses onto the wet pavement. It's began to rain, but he's not even aware of the drops hitting him as one small voice asks, "Mister?"
He looks up at the child, up into her big, green eyes that remind him of Buffy. Her eyes are framed by a truly innocent face surrounded by long, brown hair that reminds him of Dawn. "Mister?" she asks again.
"Run," he snarls and lets her see that he's not a good guy. He doesn't move to take his human shape again. He opens his mouth wider and lets her see his snarling fangs. The child screams and runs. He doesn't know if she'll make it to back to her mother's waiting arms. He can't really find it in himself now to care.
He stays right where he is, in a puddle of rain and ash. As night shifts into a gray day, he remembers all those he's loved and lost. He remembers Cecily, his mother, Dru, Buffy, Dawnie, and most of all, he remembers Angel, recalling both the good times with him as Angelus and when he made up centuries later with Angel. He remembers both the man he was and the man he became, and his broken heart yearns.
He wonders how many times he's suffered like this, how many times he's dared to love and lose. It wasn't just the women he loved who broke his heart, and Cecily broke him although he never truly loved her. He only thought he had; it wasn't until Dru that he finally understood what love was and wasn't until Buffy that he understood what it felt like to be loved in return. He's loved and lost far, far too many times now, and he can't find it within himself to get up off of his knees as the sun finally slips out from behind the thinning clouds in the light of the following afternoon.
He simply stares there as the rays penetrate his leather duster and burn holes into his flesh. He remembers a time when he burned himself, draping his bare body over a cross to show Buffy how much he cared for her, how sorrowful he was, how greatly he had changed . . . He has changed many, many times over the course of his lifetime, and he's lived far, far too long. He doesn't regret becoming a Vampire. He doesn't regret outliving his mother or the time he spent with his dark Princess, who will always be a part of him.
He doesn't even fully regret outliving Buffy. If he hadn't outlived her both times, he wouldn't have been there for Dawn. He wouldn't have been there to see her children grow or to bury each one of them when their time came to leave this world. But he's so very tired of living this life now, and he can't go on alone. Angel was the last person he had, his last friend, his last loved one, and he can't face this life without him.
As the sun bathes him in its golden light, Spike lifts his tear-streaked face up to it. He looks at the sun for the last time through eyes filled with tears and doesn't close his eyes even as he feels his whole body beginning to burn. He came into this world with nothing, and he's leaving it the same way. But what he's had in between these times are what's made his life worth living. He holds to his memories, to Buffy and Angel most especially, as he explodes, going out not with a scream, a yell, a snarl, or even another cry but with a smile beginning to form on his lips. Soon, he'll be with them all again.
He's done wrong, but he's got to believe that the good deeds he's done and the sacrifices he's made will outweigh the wrongs he's done. If they don't, he's got nothing to left, nothing left behind him in this world he's leaving and nothing left to go to. But he believes. He believes he'll be reunited with Dawn and Fred again soon, with his mother and the children he's helped raise, with Willow, Giles, Xander, Gunn, and Wes. Best of all, he believes, he'll soon be with Buffy and Angel again, and so he goes. Freely and with a smile, he finally leaves this world behind and embraces the destiny for which he's always been intended in a new afterlife filled with love and happiness and two lovers flanking his sides who will never leave him again.
And he leaves behind him one child, one child who had tried to run from her own troubles, one child who snuck back and watched the mean Vampire go with tears flowing his cheeks, a smile on his handsome if dangerous face, and eyes full of both sorrow and love, one child who watched him save her life and lose his partner in the battle, one child who will write down all she knows. William the Bloody was never about fighting, danger, mere survival, or letting blood encompass the world. William, who was reborn as Spike, was always truly about love, and one day, through the pen of a frightened child whose live was saved by his final sacrifice, the world will know the truth.