I’ve never attempted fanfic before, so please excuse me if this is not very good. Thought I’d have a go and see if it was any fun. This tale is set in the aftermath of the final Angel episode and while it might reference a bit of what happened in the comics after, it will only be vaguely. Never read them myself. The story is centered around spike, but will likely venture into a Spike/Buffy thing down the road. Hope you enjoy :)

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Heaven And Hell

by Nameless and Faceless

Chapter Four: To Save the Day

The little demon was a fearsome looking thing. Dark gray skin protected by a rust colored exoskeleton and complete with wicked looking spikes jutting out to worry any prospective enemy, it moved on all fours through the dark sewers, pausing often to look around through bleary red eyes. A long, serpent-like tongue darted quickly out to taste the air each time it paused. Despite it’s unwelcoming appearance, it was clear the small creature, no more than three feet tall at best, was nervous.

“Spike?” it ventured timidly, little claws opening and closing with uncertain energy.

“Here, Dalish,” A voice responded from above. The demon peered up into the darkness and found Spike climbing down the ladder that lead into his apartment complex.

“You’re late,” the demon, Dalish, chattered nervously.

“Bit of trouble up top,” Spike shrugged once he fully descended the ladder. He looked around briefly then retrieved a cigarette and lit it. “Things are getting tense. Few nasties weren’t taking the hint that they weren’t welcome.”

Panic surged in the tiny demon, causing all of those wicked spikes to twitch and extend outward. He looked a bit like a pincushion. “My family?” Dalish demanded worriedly.

“Relax, mate,” spike assured him “Your liter’s safe and snug. The witch says they’re all settled in. Says that the little ones are ‘adorable’” the vampire rolled his eyes at that but the sarcasm was lost on Dalish, who beamed with pride.

“And? Any news?” Spike prodded, leaning against the ladder as he smoked.

Dalish recovered from his parental glow and nodded quickly, “Word is, Valax is trying to push the Slayers out of the city. He’s pretty upset that the portal got closed last week.”

Spike snorted with amusement. Upset didn’t quite cover it. The monstrous demon that had emerged as the authority in the ranks of the demon army in Los Angeles had been in a state of near frenzy last Spike had seen him, moments after Angel and the Slayers had managed to close the portal. It had been a tense moment. Spike, watching from the rafters of the empty warehouse, had actually worried that Angel and the girls would not make it out. Luckily an timely explosion had offered the heroes the distraction they needed to make a quick exit. Bloody Angel. Never did know how to work a proper exit strategy. He was just lucky that Spike had found those explosives.

“He’s calling the Taraki back to help deal with the Slayer’s,” Dalish continued “He’s getting desperate.”

Spike nodded. Desperate indeed. The Taraki tribe was the last real stronghold of hard-line fighters serving the Senior Partners in L.A. outside Valax’s own group. Without those two militant groups serving as a backbone, the army would probably begin to dissolve as individual creatures wandered off to do their own thing. With the direct link to the hell dimension severed, the number of nasties in Los Angeles had reduced dramatically.

“Well then,” the vampire muttered, snuffing out his smoke “Guess I better get over to the Hyperion. They’ll be needing some help.”

“Wait, there’s more,” Dalish squeaked as Spike turned to go.

“Yeah?” the vampire glanced back.

“You asked about that prison, remember?” the little demon reminded him and Spike nodded impatiently. Dalish had been ferreting out information in the city for him for nearly two months now, tracking the Slayer’s in their little war to reclaim Los Angeles. He was a useful sort, so grateful to Spike for protecting his very large litter of offspring that he missed very little news. He’d recently brought word that Valax was maintaining a small camp filled with human prisoners as a food source for his forces but had been unable to find the exact location. “Well I found it. There’s a problem though. The humans are going to be killed. Valax has his sorcerer’s working on reopening the portal and the humans are going to be sacrificed.”

“Bugger,” Spike muttered. “Go tell Angel that he’s got trouble coming,” he said after a moment, starting up the ladder “Tell him I’m busy so he’ll have to manage.”

Dalish was confused at that. In all the time he’d been sent to monitor the other vampire and his Slayer allies, he had never been asked to let his presence be known, quite the opposite. The thought of those Slayer’s being aware of his presence gave the little demon a queasy feeling. “But, where are you going?” he called out nervously.

“To save the bloody day,” came the sarcastic response “That’s what the soddin’ hero does, isn’t it?”

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Tara was in his apartment when he got there. She was on the couch watching the local news, all of which revolved around the “riots” plaguing the city. When he stomped in and went directly to a large chest to retrieve a crossbow, she clicked the television off and looked at him questioningly.

“Bit of a crisis, pet,” he flashed her a grin “They’re going to be needing you over at Angel’s place.”

“What happened?” she asked, not sounding pleased with the idea. She had avoided the Slayer’s in town as much as he had over the last three months.

He paused and shot her a glance, “Not sure why you don’t want them to see you, bit. I expect some people would be right pleased to know you’re with the breathing in and out again. Red especially.”

She looked pained at that, but shook her head. “It’s not time to see her yet, and it would only hurt her to know I was alive and not be able to see me. I don’t want to confuse her,” her voice broke a little at that.

He sighed and moved over to awkwardly pat her on the shoulder. “Bit, she loves you,” He said gently “Always did. She’ll want to know, confusing or not.”

She shook her head, wiping away the beginnings of a tear. “It’s not time for us to meet yet,” she repeated, conveying an implication that this was about more than her feelings. Probably some bloody deal with the Powers That Be again. “Now, tell me what happened.”

He shrugged and related the news, telling her about the threat to the slayers as well as the soon to be doomed prisoners. As he spoke he continued preparing his crossbow and collected a short sword as well. When he finished, she shook her head.

“No, they’ll have to look after themselves,” she said, getting up. “I’m going with you.”

“What? No, this is too dangerous. Go help Angel.” he frowned. He knew his chances of pulling this off weren’t great.

“You said sorcerers, Spike,” she insisted “so unless you are secretly a warlock, you’re going to need me. Now lets not waste time arguing when you know damned well I am coming. I’ll get my things.”

He blinked when she darted out, not even bothering to wait for his response. What happened to the shy witch that never raised her voice? “Bloody hell,’ he muttered, amused “She’s just like the rest of them.”

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The cafeteria of the county jail had been converted into a massive ritual room. Diagrams etched in human blood lined the walls and floor and a massive black alter had been erected within a pentagram in the center of the large room. Chained humans huddled in abject terror, each bound to the floor. The stink of fear and pain was thick, making the air oppressive and unpleasant even without vampiric senses.

Spike had very little time to think about the offensive smell of the place though. He was too busy fighting for his life. The warden of this particular prison had turned out to be one of Valax’s lieutenants, a massive brute with six arms, each swinging a long, jagged sword. The murderous creature was strong, too strong maybe. Spike hurled himself to the floor and only narrowly missed being cut in half by one of those nasty blades.

From the corner of his eye, he saw that Tara was not faring much better. The witch was stronger than he remembered. She’d already proved that on their dangerous descent into this prison. But stronger or not, she was having trouble dealing with the two sorcerers that had been conducting the great sacrifice. They stood near their alter alternating in throwing what looked like bowling ball sized spheres of angry red energy at her. Each bolt was turned aside by a shimmering white nimbus surrounding Tara, but she looked tired.

How the hell did I get myself into this? he thought, wanting to laugh at the absurdity of his being here.

“How we doing back there, pet?” he shouted, dancing away from the menacing beast stalking him. Those nasty swords were getting entirely too close.

“Not now,” she called back “Kinda busy here!”

Before Spike could answer he noticed a tiny opening in the massive demon’s offensive and leapt forward, driving his foot into one of the six hands threatening him and was rewarded with one of those swords skittering across the floor. He had to retreat in a flash though and did not manage to get out of range before he had two fresh new cuts for his efforts.

This really wasn’t going well at all.

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He was sprinting as only a vampire could, more blur than man as he raced through the streets of Los Angeles on his way to the Hyperion. He still wasn’t certain how, but he and Tara had won. One moment things had looked dire and the next an unfortunate stumble had given Spike enough time to whirl and throw his short sword into the back of one of the sorcerers threatening Tara. A split second of fortunate timing and shed been able to overcome her remaining enemy. Then the two of them had managed to wear down and defeat the brutish swordsdemon.

He’d left Tara to free the humans and taken off. He was still peeved about being attacked that night and really had no desire to have any contact with the Slayers, but that didn’t mean he would allow them to die if he could help. So he raced toward the hotel where he knew the confrontation would take place, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Demon bodies on the street told him that he’d missed the opening acts. Leaping over the corpses, he quickened his pace until he heard fighting in the distance that told him he wasn’t too late after all. Whatever relief he felt was lost once he turned the corner and saw the fight, however.

The giant that was Valax was in the courtyard of the hotel, roaring in pain and rage. Around Valax and in the street outside the courtyard was a graveyard of demonic bodies, probably a hundred in total. It was like a war had taken place here, which it had, of course.

Two of the three Slayers he’d seen previously in Angel’s company were slumped down against the double doors leading into the hotel. Both seriously hurt and bloodied, they looked shell shocked, glassy eyed. Standing between them and the raging demon lord was Captain America himself, axe in hand. Illyria was at his side, looking unhurt and hardly interested at all.

It wasn’t those two that brought Spike up short though. It was the small blonde woman standing beside Illyria. God, she was so beautiful standing there, green eyes on fire. Perfect.

“Buffy,” he breathed.

It took him a moment to noticing anything besides her, to be at all aware that there was a second girl standing near Buffy, a slender Asian woman with a serious expression. Another Slayer?

In a split second Valax bellowed and threw himself at Buffy, causing a chaotic reaction. Angel roared and charged in to slam his axe into the demon while Illyria surged forward beside him. The small Asian Slayer darted forward and threw herself in front of Buffy, managed to intercept the blow. It caught her on the side sent her sailing into the wall a good ten feet away.

Buffy shouted with a shocking, wordless concern and rushed to the other woman’s side, leaving her back unprotected to the screaming demon lord. It turned out not to matter, though. Illyria managed to intercept Valax, her tiny frame somehow knocking the huge creature to the earth. And then Angel was there, his axe descending and sinking into the demons skull.

They began talking as the demon died, but Spike hardly heard the sound of their voices and had no idea what they were saying. His wide eyes were on Buffy and the woman she was huddled over. The second Slayer appeared to be only dazed, she was already stirring. That’s not what Spike was so transfixed on.

The way Buffy’s fingers were brushing the woman’s face. The way their fingers met. Gentle touches. A lover’s touch.

Oh God…

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He was standing on a rooftop an hour later when Tara found him. Eventually he’d have to ask her how she always managed to find him, regardless of where he was but at the moment he didn’t want to know. He didn’t speak as she joined him at the building edge to look down onto the street below where Buffy and the Slayers were talking to Angel.

Everything inside him as screaming to go down to her, be with her, just look her in the eyes. In some ways the urge was stronger than the pull to feed had been before the chip had shunted it. He could feel his body shaking beneath the protective confines of his beloved jacket.

She looks happy.

“Spike,” Tara said hesitantly, looking down “What happened? Is everyone… oh my God, is that Buffy?”

“The one and only,” he said tonelessly. “Came to save the day, like a good hero does.”

There was an uncomfortable, shocked silence between them. Tara looked from the street to Spike and back again, uncertain of where to go from here. There was something in his expression that she couldn’t place, something primal. Unknowable.

“Are… Are you going to see her?” Tara asked after a moment, her heart going out to the vampire.

He was silent so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer. Haunted blue eyes stared down into the street, at the tiny blonde figure in the distance, bored into her. He hardly blinked. When he finally spoke, his voice was emotionless, so deliberately casual that Tara’s heart broke for him. He was in so much pain.

“Been thinking a lot about the soul,” he murmured distractedly. “Never was one for introspection, but lately… Got to asking myself some strange questions.”

He looked at her briefly before turning his gaze back to Buffy, “Two humans don’t see each other for ten, twenty years,” he muttered. “They finally meet again and they will both be almost completely different people, right? Those years between meetings will have changed them, shaped them into something more than they’d been. Love, pain, struggle, happiness.. It all adds up to making the sum of the person, right?”

“Right,” she responded slowly, not sure what he was getting at.

“Not like that with vampires, bit,” he said after a moment. “Don’t see a vampire for half a century and you can still bet that he’ll be pretty much the same bloke you knew before. Was thinking maybe that’s because a vampire’s got no soul. Maybe since they have no moral compass to help them learn from their mistakes, they can’t change as people. Maybe no sense of right and wrong means never being challenged to change or grow or whatever.”

“Vampires don’t change?” she looked at him. It was an odd concept, being the same person for all time.

“Pet, I spent what basically amounts to a century long date with Dru,” he said distractedly “Doing the same exact thing night after night. Neither one of us changed much over that time. Only on the surface to suit a new fancy or two, Angel, Darla… same thing.”

“But you have a soul now,” she urged him “What does that mean?”

“Mean’s I’m confused, bit,” he said tiredly “Everything in me is screaming to do one thing, and my head is screaming that it’s a bad idea. It means I don’t want to hurt anyone. And I’m stupid enough to do just that.”

She really had no words for him. Though she had a good idea what he was talking about now, there really wasn’t anything to say that would help him. She knew herself how difficult it was to stay away from the one you loved.

He was silent after that, staring wistfully down at the street. There’d been a conversation they’d had before he’d died. She’d been half asleep, talking about how much she loved the idea of growing old with someone in a quiet life together.

And he was a vampire.

The woman she was with was another Slayer, he was sure of it. Not an occupation that offered much hope of old age and retirement. But not much hope was better than no hope at all. She was a Slayer, but she was human. He was a vampire. She was a force for good in the world, working and living the life Buffy led. Making a difference. He was a murderer.

God help me, Buffy.

He wanted her to be happy more than he wanted to be with her. She deserved a chance to get what she wanted.

If only making the decision he made didn’t feel like he was dying inside.

“This war is over,” he said more roughly than he intended, causing Tara to jump. He’d surprised her, not having spoke in several moments. “L.A.’s lost it’s appeal. Time for ol’ Spike to move on. You comin’?”

There was no hesitation, and thankfully no pity in her unreadable expression. “I’m coming.”

“Right,” he turned away from the street below and began walking off, back straight as if forcing himself not to look back. “How do you fancy Vegas, pet?”

Writers note: Thanks for the nice comments, guys. This is a lot of fun. And yeah, I’m a Tara fan as well. By the way, that was Satsu with Buffy in case that wasn’t clear. Not having read the comics, I didn’t feel comfortable using the character where her personality would be revealed. Didn’t want to get it wrong.