Swords had clashed, punches had been thrown. Screams of things unholy echoed through the narrow alley. Blood spilt. Flesh torn. Bones cracked and
crushed.

The battle had raged on with a fury, but none of which compared to that flowing through the borrowed blood of the champions. They rained down their wrath worse than in times of days long gone by. Shoulder to shoulder they fought, never breaking pace. In their minds eye, they watched each other for any sign of trouble.

Gunn didn't last long at all. Being mortal and wounded as he was, neither vampire expected him to last more that a few minutes. They did the best they could to shelter him from the more leathal foes, but all in vain. For the loss of blood felled him in the end. He sank gracefully to his knees and sent knowing eyes heavenward, ready for the end. Angel and Spike acknowledged their fallen comrade with a brief glance at each other before throwing themselves further into the fray.

Illyria held her own. She neither gave -assistance- nor expected it. Her grief overwhelmed her, though its magnitude could not be realized to her. Being not at full strength from her earlier encounter with Hamilton, left her vulnerable. Though she put up a tremendous effort, slaying demons and beasts in a bloody swath through the alley, she failed to see that fateful blow which severed her head.

Her efforts were not in vain. Wave after wave of the Senior Partners underlings came, but each smaller than the one before. Having drastically reduced their numbers with three, the two remaining found it within themselves to continue fighting.

Angel's arms were heavy from the weight of the sword, yet he held on. It was his only defense against the claws that constantly tried to embed themselves in his body, and the teeth that aimed to tear into his soft flesh. Looking over at Spike, who's stark blonde hair was now matted blood red, he saw the vicious demon Childe, William the Bloody, breaking necks and ripping throats with his bare fists and fangs. Always a simple one he was. Never cared much for weapons. Needed the pure rush of a brawl, whether it be in a bar or in the street.

Spike felt as if many vital organs had been torn from him. His body ached all over, never settling and focusing pain. But what was pain to him now? He couldn't stand still long enough to consider it. It had been kill or be killed for hours now. Pain melded into fury melded into desperation. Would this fight ever end? Who would win? Would he finally die... again? No. No time to think of that. Here comes another pitiful goon trying his luck against a 124 year old Master Vampire. Ha! Lucky you're not up against my Sire over there.

*****

The rain left puddles of red, brown, and the occasional green dotted throughout. Clouds had long since rolled past with the cool breeze rolling in from the north. It was almost like the breath of life. It carried the foul stench of death away from the Champions who still fought with bloodied faces and torn rags. It took with it the terrified few that remained fearing doing battle with the angered vampires. They scurried away into the darker shadows of the night, consequences be damned. At least they'd live to see another day.

Bodies were slain all around. A giant mass along the length of the space showed to be the intact remains of the dragon Angel had taken down. Another larger beast, with chains running from his neck and arms, slumped lifeless against the wall, squashing bright yellow and blue plastic trash cans under its weight. Spike glanced around apprehensively at the now quiet alley. He caught Angel's eyes staring at him, piercing straight into his soul.

Angel had realized the fight was over the minute the wretched creatures scampered away. He held onto his sword a moment longer watching as Spike continued hacking into whatever had seemed caused his moment of mindless violence. He had unconsciously watched him throughout the night, seeing the grace in which he fought. Killing and moving on to his next victim. Pausing for mere seconds to get his bearings and blocking out the pain from his injuries. But now, it appeared something had finally cracked. The ax in his hand met flesh blow after blow. And Angel watched. Waited. He's finally lost it. You need to stop Spike. Look around. That's it. It's over. Yes, you see me now. Are you still in there?

Spike staggered for a second under the intense scrutiny. And then he fell. Hard. Onto blades and bones of his opponents. The last thing he saw before his mind blacked out was Angel staggering towards him and falling himself a good 3 yards away. The pinkish sky set a beautiful backdrop to the dreams that started creeping into his mind. Such a lovely way to go.

Angel's body felt almost like rubber. In an instant after Spike collapse, he began to limp towards him. But the pain. First he felt as if his skin was stripped. But he kept going, stumbling crazily. Then the muscles of his body turned to a pile of deadweight. It refused to carry him. And of course, he fell as well a few yards away from the only survivor of his team. The prickling on his neck and the brightening of the sky told him dawn was not too far away. In his mind, he couldn't find reason to care. They had beat them back. Let the light claim him.

*****

I'm wet. His mind cleared momentarily and that was his first thought. The dampness around his body he couldn't place. Why am I wet? The second rolled in soon after. And what is that smell?? He was grateful to the Powers that Be that he decided to open his eyes in that moment. It all came flooding back to him as the carnage of the night lay in heaps all around. The sun was up and gradually creeping over the building next to the Hyperion. Creeping steadily. Inch by agonizing inch. Safety of the shade being devoured as the fiery mass rose in the sky. The line receding as it probably had been doing for days, years, each morning. But this time, it was only fractions of a second away from Spike. Spike! Without thought, without hesitation, his body lurched on instinct. One of his own lay moments away from demise. The distance shot past him in a blur. Reserves of energy he hadn't fathomed within himself surfaced and he reached the fallen vampire and foolishly covered the body with his own to shelter him from the deadly rays. Thankfully, he realized the error the moment his body began to sizzle. Rolling away to a deeper part of the shade with his charge, he managed to quench the flames in the scattered puddles.

Spike awoke to strong arms wrapped firmly around him. Strong arms? The Slayer never held him. Sure, maybe pinned his arms every now and again, but never this. He opened his eyes in a daze. He couldn't figure out where he was. The only thing he could make out was the crook of a shoulder on which his head was resting. The scent hit him a minute later. Angel?

"Angel?" It came out more of a croak than the whisper he intended.

The grip he had on him loosened and he recovered enough to roll away and turn his back and lift eyes to the spot where the sunlight had just crept into.

"They're all dead." He managed to say, although where he found his voice was beyond him. "All. All of them. Gone." Who were they? Now that they are gone, can he still picture them the same? "Wes. Wesley. And.. and Gunn. What? Illyria's..."

Spike watched Angel's back. He had brought his knees up and wrapped his arms about tryign to shelter himself from something unseen. And the only thing he could do was watch him as the tremors flooded that ancient body. Spike lay where Angel had dropped him. Only propped himself up on bruised and broken elbows.

"Why does everyone I'm close to have to die?"

"I guess... well I guess it doesn't matter that I'm still here." He had no idea why he said that. Maybe looking for some small acceptance finally? Maybe he feels just as lost as Angel? Maybe now that this is over there's nothing left of him but the demon in the body next to him?

A mirthless chuckle. I can laugh at a time like this. Am I that heartless? No. "I almost lost you too. Almost... I was quick enough. I had to be." He turned his head to see Spike looking at him in wonder. Yes, that's right. You almost slipped away again. "Funny if you think about it."

Funny? The look on Spike's face must have clearly conveyed his thoughts, because he had no idea what to make. Had Angel lost his mind? "Angel?"

"Seems only the sun can take you down." He had to say it quickly. Like a band-aid. Pull it away slowly, hurts too much. But quick and the pain is there all at once and is gone before you know it. He just looked in his eyes a moment and realized that the pain would never go away.

As they sat in stony silence, each summed up the loss they suffered. It was a risk. A huge risk. They asked of their friends what they knew they wouldn't survive. And with hope and glory, honor and righteousness they accepted the challenge. They threw down their gaunlets and met their ends. Had they really known? Wesley. Had he found his peace? Gunn. Had he found his moment of glory? Illyria. Did she find her place and her vengence? Lorne. Lorne got out. He was safe. The one wise one among the lot of them.

"What now?..." Silence. Maybe he didn't hear me. "Angel?... What now?"

"Now?" He crept back to Spike's side, regreting that he even turned away. He pulled the damaged frame into his arms and held on. When he felt hands pulling at his shirt drawing him closer it clicked in his head. Someone did survive. Spike survived. He survived. They were champions. They go on. "Now, William. Now we survive."