DISCLAIMER: Joss owns the characters and makes the money. I right the wrongs of the Evil Writers who refused to get Buffy and Spike together where they belonged.

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Chapter 11 – Last Mistake



Angelus stepped out of the shadows, slapping a stake in his hand.

Spike fought Angelus many times over the past three years and he’d learned many things. He’d learned the painful thuds of Angel’s fists as they slammed into Spike’s body. He’d learned the hard kicks of his boots and the ripping agony of his fangs. He’d also learned that he couldn’t beat Angel, not in a one-on-one slugging contest that Angelus favored. So, he did the one thing he could do better than his beef-bodied sire.

He ran.

Angelus swung at him with his plank of wood and missed as Spike streaked past him and ran into Brompton Road. He wanted to lead Angelus away from the tight, dark alley where his sire would have the advantage of his formidable muscles. He gripped the broken bottle hard. Why hadn’t he grabbed a chair leg as he left the pub? His first mistake.

The road was black and empty in the foul weather and a blistering wind shrieked between the buildings and blew out the gas lamps for blocks around. Sleet coated the paving bricks with a treacherous film of ice. The moon was cloaked in fog and ice clouds and no stars shone.

He ran.

He ran and listened for footsteps behind him. He heard the tapping of Emma’s heeled button boots scrambling on the bricks after him, but there were no clomping boot sounds that could have belonged to his sire. He heard a clang as something hit a copper gutter. Angelus had jumped to a roof and was traveling above Spike’s head. He was up there, plodding along, waiting his chance to drop on Spike and crush him with his weight. Spike altered his course to the middle of the brick pavement. He kept running.

He’d never beaten Angelus before, and he had few advantages. Angelus was big and tough and heavy. One brutal blow from his fist could paralyze a vamp for a week. A kick to the head could drop a draft horse in its tracks. Spike was vampire strong, but not strong like his sire. No. He’d have to rely on speed and tricks. He’d take out Angelus in the first few minutes of the fight or he’d lose. Tonight, losing meant death. Permanent and bitter this time. No coming back. No cheating the reaper.

Emma ran up to him and tagged his arm. “Wait, Billy.”

He shoved her hand away and continued to run forward through the icy air. “Get away from me!” He heard the scrape of her boots and the rustle of her black dress as she stumbled and fell to the pavement behind him.

Angelus dropped from the roof of a building a half block ahead of Spike, his long black cloak billowing out like a mourning sheet. He landed hard, but kept his balance.

“Jaysus, Willie. I never knew you could run so fast. It won’t do you a bleeding bit of good. It’ll just piss me off.” He twirled the cumbersome slat of wood in his right hand, weaving the board in and out of the cold fog like a thick, dull needle.

Spike skidded to a stop and looked for a more favorable fighting zone. There, a stable in the mews behind a dress shop. If he could make it to the stable, he could fight inside with his back to the wall and still have plenty of room to dance around and avoid the big bastard’s fists. His face crumpled into the mask of a monster. He’d need all his vampire strength tonight.

Before Spike could run into the stable, Angelus launched the slat. Spike flung himself in to the ground, but the jagged point stabbed him in the side. Bloody hell! Wounded already and he hadn’t thrown the first blow. He clawed the board free, ignoring the blood-spurting wound and held the slat like a spear in his left hand, bottle in his right.

Angelus approached with his hands held out. “Where you running to, Willie? I thought you liked an all out fight. Nothing but fists and fangs? A fight you know you aren’t going to win?” Angelus smiled. He still wore his human face. His dark eyes and his plain face, dead white in the dark street, mocked Spike. Angelus didn’t need vampire strength, not to kill Spike.

Spike giggled. He giggled when he was hurt or frightened. He giggled to annoy Angelus. He crouched with his weapons, keeping his body weight low, for the kick he knew was coming and edged toward the stable.

Emma skittered between them, facing Angelus. She latched onto him and put her hands around his neck. She kissed his mouth feverishly. “Please Angel. Let him go. You don’t have to kill him. He’ll leave town. He said he’d leave.” She glanced over at Spike. “You’ll go tonight. Won’t you, Billy?”

Angelus grabbed a fistful of Emma’s hair and threw her across the street. “Don’t interfere, my dead rose. Boys only tonight. Besides, Willy is going to unleash it.” Angelus walked over to Spike casually, holding his hands in the air. He smiled and looked away, as if to give Spike a chance to strike his best blow and even up the odds.

Spike feinted forward, striking with the wood slat.

Angelus slapped it away with his right, and slugged Spike in the gut with his left, then backhanded him. Spike’s head snapped hard to one side and he choked as the rotten beer he’d drank earlier came back up. He spat out the beer and smacked Angelus in the head with the board. He caught Angelus off balance and knocked him down. Spike clubbed his skull with the wood and reached over with the broken bottle. He swiped at Angelus’s exposed neck cutting a thin line that spurted blood, but not deep enough to kill. Angelus was too fast. He rolled to his feet and grabbed the plank out of Spike’s hands.

The plank splintered in Spike’s hands and ripped away chunks of skin. Spike had no time to worry about his wounds as Angelus kicked his jaw and stabbed the board at his face. Spike ducked and ducked again as Angelus swung the board in a circle and cracked him on the shoulder.

Spike skipped away, then turned to run into the stable.

The stable was dark and musky with the smell of straw and horse sweat and manure. The horses cried and kicked their stalls as the vampires ran inside. Horses hated vampires. Unlike humans, they had no difficulty identifying the undead.

Spike was not bothered by the dark. There was enough light to see everything he needed to see. He ran to the far wall and turned, his back against the wall. He spat out a loose tooth, wiped the trickling blood from his mouth and licked it off his fingers. He’d started this fight on an empty stomach. His second mistake. If he made another, it might be his last.

Angelus strolled into the stable as if he had all night to beat the crap out of his wayward offspring. “A wee bit dark in here, don’t you think?” He pulled a small cardboard box out of his coat pocket and took out a lucifer. He struck the match on the sandpaper strip, held the match down to light the balsa wood, then held the match up and lit a black cheroot. He took three puffs, taking his time, letting Spike know he was in no hurry, and flipped the cigar behind Spike. It hit the floor and ignited the bed of straw. “I prefer a bit of light with my killing, don’t you?”

The small flames spread, eating and chewing the straw. The horses kicked their stalls and cried in fear.

Spike backed away from the fire. He saw a shovel leaning on against one of the stalls. If he could reach it he could keep Angelus at bay, perhaps get past him. He rushed for the shovel, but Angelus beat him to it. His sire swung the shovel and cracked Spike’s skull with the metal blade, dropping him to the floor of the stable.

Spike jumped to his feet in time to catch a rib-breaking slug from the shovel across his back. He turned and kicked Angelus in the face. His sire’s head snapped back from the force of the blow, but he recovered. He smiled at Spike. “That wasn’t too bad, childe.” He swung the shovel handle like a quarterstaff and shattered it across one of Spike’s knees. Spike yelled to cover up his scream of pain and staggered forward. They exchanged slugs, right punches, left crosses, kicks and chops.

The fire consumed the straw and licked up the posts and wooden stalls. The horses screamed with fright and reared and stabbed their stalls with their front hooves. They twirled in their boxes in panic.

Emma appeared at the entrance and slipped into the shadows. Was she there to help Angelus finish him off? Angelus cut off Spike’s thoughts with a hard blow to his jaw.

Spike snatched at the remains of the shovel handle, but Angelus grabbed the shaft and jerked it from Spike’s hands. Spike punched Angelus in the gut. Angelus, holding the handle between his big hands, ran it under Spike’s throat and slammed him against a wall. He leaned hard against the handle, crushing Spike’s adam’s apple.

Emma leaped out of the shadows and onto Angelus’s back. Her face crumpled and ripped into her vampire image. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!” She tore at Angelus’s eyes with her clawed hands, forcing him to release Spike to fight her.

Angelus backhanded her away and she slammed against one of the stalls and slid down to the floor. “I think you’re missing the point of the fun this evening,” he said.

Emma sobbed and wiped her hand over her eyes. “Please. Let him go.”

Behind Angelus’s back, but not out of his hearing, Spike tore away a stall post. The bottom end was already flaming as the fire spread. He stabbed the flaming end at Angelus, but Angelus ducked and slashed Spike with a round house kick that knocked his feet out.

The fire roared up the walls and smoke filled the room. Outside the building Spike heard the frightened yells of humans sounding the alarm and assembling a bucket brigade to contain the fire. Two men came into the barn with burlap sacks in their hands to lead the horses out.

“What the hell are you doing?” one of the men shouted. He flung a sack over one horse’s head and led him out of the stall.

Angelus grabbed the man’s arm and tossed him into Spike. Angelus ran to the flaming back wall of the stable and crashed through in a reckless leap that left a jagged hole circled with fire. He disappeared into the black shadows.

Fire blazed up to the loft, igniting bales of straw and hay and punching through the roof. Cool night air poured into the building and fueled the fire into giant sheets of flame. A gang of men appeared in the stable, hustling out the remaining horses and splashing buckets of water onto the flames. The silvery bells of the fire company clanged in the distance.

Spike picked up Emma and dragged her through the hole into the cold night air. Flames caught Emma’s dress and streaked up the black train. Spike beat the flames out with his hands, scorching his fingers.

Angelus appeared from the shadows. “Isn’t that touching? Our Willy saving the girl who betrayed him.”

Spike roared and attacked Angelus with his fists. Angelus responded, pounding Spike’s face over and over and over again with his rock hard knuckles. Spike’s face dissolved into a mask of blood and torn flesh, but he kept fighting. Angelus grabbed his skull and popped his forehead onto Spike’s nose, crushing the cartilage and sending a fresh stream of dead blood down his face.

Spike slammed his knee into Angelus’s crotch. He brought up his knee again and again as he gripped his sire’s shoulders to keep him from falling. Spike released Angelus and he dropped to his knees in the mud and manure that dirtied the alley.

“You rotten fledge,” Angelus said. He got to his feet and cradled his testicles in his meaty hand. “I’ll cut off your cock and skewer it on your damn fangs.”

Spike staggered to his feet and kicked Angelus in the head. He kicked him in the head again, knocking him all the way down. While Angelus lay in the alley moaning, Spike looked around. A wooden fence. He stumbled to the fence and ripped away one of the fence pickets.

Angelus got back to his feet and tackled Spike from behind, shoving him into the fence. A picket broke through Spike’s ribcage and missed his heart by an inch. He dropped the picket in his hand and roared in pain. He rolled onto the ground and jerked the picket out of his chest.

When he crawled to his feet, Angelus was standing a few paces away, his arm dropped over Emma’s shoulder. “You can’t beat me, bucko. Hand me the stake and I’ll finish you off quick.” He held out his hand.

Spike raised the fence picket, lunged forward and brought it down in a swift, killing arch. As the picket came down on Angelus’s breastbone, Emma threw herself on Angelus’s chest.

“Don’t Billy!” she cried.

Too late, Spike ran the stake through Emma’s back and split open her dead heart.

Emma stiffened under the blow, her hands in rigid claws against Angelus’s chest. For one moment nothing happened. Then, her skin and hair and clothes turned into black crust and crumbled away, leaving only her whitened skull and skeleton. Her bones shattered into dust and her ashes puffed and sifted away on the frozen night wind.

The picket fell from Spike’s hands and splatted on the muddy ground. “Emma!” His vampire face vanished and his pummeled and bloodied human face appeared. He dropped to the ground, sobbing. “Emma.”

Angelus took out a cheroot and a match. He lit the cigar and took a puff. “I was planning to kill you tonight, but I think I’ll let you live. It’ll be fun watching you suffer over this bit of fluff.”

“You right bastard. You took her away from me. You killed her.” Tears and blood mixed and trailed pink streaks down his battered white face.

“Why there’s hardly a thing on this black Earth I enjoy more than taking things from you, Willie Boy.”

“I would have been good to her. I would have taken care of her.”

Angelus slapped Spike on the shoulder. “A bigger bollox never put his arm through a coat than you. You could have no more taken care of the lass, than I could walk on the sun. Why, when Drusilla plucked you out of that alley, you didn’t know your cock from a cooker.”

“I killed her. I killed my Emma.”

Angelus pulled Spike to his feet. “You always kill the one you love. Let’s get fluthered.”