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Warning: If you do not like the darkest side of Spike or character deaths, fly away little butterfly. For, as the title states, everyone dies, some horribly.
Six years later
Spike the Bloody sat alone in a back booth at a London pub. His scarred face was pulled into a habitual sneer, and long, greasy mouse-brown hair hung limply before sparking gray eyes. Occasionally he fingered his ear where a small piece was missing. He thumped his empty glass on the table and looked up to find the waitress. “Good service is impossible to get anymore,” he muttered to himself in a scratchy voice. The last slayer cut his throat a good one. He was not sure his voice would ever recover.
There was a flash of light and two demon women appeared. Their bodies appeared human and lovely, yet their faces were twisted, veined, purple-red masses like raw scar tissue.
“Did the management send you over to entertain me?” He studied them and paused, puzzled. “Do I know you?” he asked the dark haired one.
Her face morphed and became the lovely, even features of Spike’s first love. As a human, William had written endless poems of love to this lady. Yet she had spurned him, called him beneath her. "We've met," she said.
He leered at her. “Cicely. Changed your mind about me? Did you decide you had to have a taste of William after all? I went out and became a vampire thanks to you, so I’m glad to have known you. When did you become a demon, pet?”
“I always was one. You were too stupid to see it. I was on a mission when you kept fluttering around me.” She waved a hand in the air and intoned a short spell.
The air wobbled and Spike felt an invisible barrier around him. He leapt to his feet, striking the thick air. “What is this?” he snarled.
The blonde one silenced him with a gesture. “I am Anyanka. I am here on behalf of the Demon community. Halfek is here on behalf of the Watcher’s council and myself.”
“Vengeance demons,” he spat. “Come on. Let me out and give me a fair fight.”
“Did you give Alexander Harris a fair fight?” Anyanka asked.
“Who? Xander? Oh, that ponce.” Spike laughed. “He was a hell of a tumble. What’s it to you?”
“At the time, I was without my powers. I had fallen in love with him. I came to his house one lovely fall day in order to have sex with him the first time only to find his parents dead by vampire and evidence of other things having gone on. I started looking around and called in a few favors for help. We pieced together your little Sunnydale reign of terror.”
Spike chuckled. “That was a good week. Didn’t you know he was gay? He had a big secret thing going on with Giles,” he smirked.
Anyanka’s demon face surfaced again. “You turned my Xander, then killed him. Alone I searched for a way to regain my powers and call vengeance upon you. Over the years, you kept up a constant practice of killing any demon who looked cross-eyed at you. Good or evil. So many, in fact, D’Hoffryn came to me to empower me. I represent the entire Demon community.
"I heard of your killing of Slayers and their families. I took a chance and went to the Watcher’s council. They were just as mad at you. Never before has the Watcher’s council and the Demon community worked together. They’ve been tracking you. Now, Halfek and I are here to exterminate you. We shall grant each other’s wishes.” Spike threw himself against the barrier.
The two spoke at once. “For the evil creature you were, for the hideous animal you have become. For all creatures of all kinds you have killed. For the families and friends you have grieved. For Alexander Harris. We curse you.”
The two voices intertwined and overlapped. The air started to crackle. Any patrons or employees of the pub who had been foolish enough to hang around this long, cleared out.
“I wish the vampire known as William the Bloody, known as Spike would burn very slowly to death form the inside, feeling every physical pain he has inflicted on others.”
“I wish the vampire known as William the Bloody, known as Spike would feel guilt and every bit of emotional pain and suffering he has inflicted on others.”
The booth and Spike’s clothing charred to a crisp and Spike was left standing naked and scarred in the center of the confining field.
“Is that all? If you birds wanted me naked…” he sneered in the instant before it hit him.
He was grabbed by an unseen force and held up straight, his head back, as if puppet strings pull his limbs. His cocky expression vanished to be replaced with one of horror and loss. Tears streamed down his face until heat burned them away. For six hours, one for each slayer he had killed and each year Anya had been without Xander, he stood and screamed. Cracks appeared in his once fine features, showing red liquid fire as if lava flowed under a skin of pumice. Finally, when there was barely anything more than a skeletal mass in the center of the field, and the screams were long silenced, the confining field became a snow globe of hell fire. The vaguely man-shaped mass disintegrated to smoke.
For Spike it lasted forever. His last thought before hell finally claimed William the Bloody was that his end felt somehow appropriate.
Thanks to Donovan for a wonderful Beta!!
Notes: My job of 6 years was ended by corporate bean counters which put me in a very bad mood. Then, an old friend betrayed me. This story is the result.
RIP: Harmony, Riley, Joyce, Giles, Xander, Willow, Oz, Buffy, Willy, Drusilla, Angel, Spike.
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