Banner by Selene

Chapter 6

The lack of the Slayer’s heartbeat sounded deathly loud in the deserted chamber. He could hear Sylam circling him, chuckling in mirth at his pain. The sadistic bastard.

“Come now, vampire. What do you care if the Slayer dies? There’ll be another to take her place. Any minute now, I’m guessing.”

Spike ignored him, carefully laying Buffy’s head on the ground, memorizing her features. His fingers brushed across her lips one last time before they closed around the hilt of his sword. As he stood, his grief-stricken expression was wiped from his face. In his mind’s eye, Sylam had become like the slayers in his past.

And he was about to have one good day.

Spike rolled his neck and flexed his jaw, his sword twirled a few times in his hand as he moved away from Buffy towards the Order’s ringleader.

“Sylam, I presume?” he asked, continuing to circle his opponent, looking for an opening.

Sylam smiled, giving the vampire a mock bow in acknowledgment. “I see my reputation precedes me. Tell me… who do I have to thank for that?”

“What does it matter? Another few minutes and you’ll be dead, and the point’ll be moot.”

The two adversaries continued to circle one another, neither in any hurry to land the first blow. They were watching, however. Looking for any weaknesses, picking apart the other’s moves.

“Cocky! I like that in an opponent. Another time, and you could have fit in here.”

Spike struck without warning. Three quick sweeps of his sword, two of which Sylam managed to counter. The third drew blood – a thin line across the demon’s chest – as it sliced through the shirt he wore. Spike withdrew as quickly as he’d attacked, once more circling around his adversary. Eyes on constant alert for another opening.

“Bit of a loner, myself. ’m not one to tow the company line, if you catch my meanin’.” He smirked at the demon, flashing fangs that just itched to sink into the demon’s neck.

“Insolence!” Sylam raged.

His smirk grew into a full-fledged smile. “Yeah…”  

Then he attacked again.

~*~*~*~*~

Both were winded, but determined not to show it. They’d lost track of time, but it had been awhile. Their arms growing weaker at the constant swinging of their swords.

“You’ll never defeat me,” Sylam got out as he barely blocked another attack. “Better men than you have tried.”

“I’m not a man. I’m a vampire,” Spike replied, undeterred in his aim to see the demon dead.

“It’s a prophecy, you know,” Sylam went on like Spike had never spoken, winded now as he continued to find purchase with his sword. “Written in some codex long forgotten.”

“Something about giving everything up…” Spike snorted, pausing momentarily in his attack. “Yeah, I know.”

“So you see—”

“I did give up everything, you bastard,” Spike growled, giving a vicious swipe of his sword, that, had it connected, would have severed the demon’s head from his shoulders.

“You?” Sylam scoffed as jumped back out of the way. “What could you—” He watched the vampire’s gaze narrow in anger and bit back a laugh. “Ahhh… the Slayer. Nice piece of—”

“Shut your gob!” Spike snarled. In a blinding rage, he charged Sylam.

Thrust.  

Thrust.  

Slash.

Each time, Sylam was there. As if he’d known beforehand the moves Spike had been about to make. On the last swipe, he made a big sweeping circle with his arms when their two swords collided, causing Spike to temporarily lose his balance – if not the grip on his sword. Sylam took advantage and repaid the favor with the tip of his sword against the vampire’s middle. He laughed as his opponent jumped back out of reach.

“Tell me… demon to vampire…” Sylam taunted. “Didn’t you just love it when her heart stopped? All that blood… Mmmm… the smell. Makes you hard just thinking—”

“Fuck you!”  

Spike’s sword swung out blindly in retaliation.

“That is your thing, isn’t it, Spike? The self-professed ‘Slayer of Slayers’?”

Sylam was openly taunting him now, allowing the vampire’s rage to take hold. Waiting until it consumed him, made him careless. Then he’d be there. A quick flick against the vampire’s neck and goodbye. It would be a shame, though. The vampire really did have potential – a natural killer. And obviously not lacking in the brains department since he’d managed to find their secret stronghold.

Pity.

~*~*~*~*~

‘You’re letting him get to you.’

‘Shut up. ’m fighting here.’

‘No you’re not. You’re losing. He’s feeding on your rage. Waiting for you to make a mistake.’

‘He’s weakening.’

‘It’s a ploy.’

‘Is not.’

‘The Slayer would agree with me. He’s baiting you. And you’re letting him.’

‘Shut up.’

‘You need to put her from your mind. Concentrate on Sylam. He’s expecting you to fight fair. It’s time to stop.’

‘What do you suggest?’

‘I’m so glad you asked…’

~*~

“Not with her,” Spike clarified.

He pulled his punches a bit, making it appear that his rush of anger was ebbing, that he was getting weaker. Some of his swings sailed wide of their target, missing the demon completely. Those were the most dangerous of all – missing outright, but making sure he was able to counter once he left himself wide open and vulnerable to attack.

“What’s so special about her? Plenty more where she came from.”

Spike growled and lunged again. Again he feigned his growing weakness. Causing Sylam to chuckle at his fumbling.

“Look at you. All worked up… and for what?”  

He went on the attack, driving the vampire back, determined to see the end of this fight. Though, he had to give the vampire credit. Spike was outmatched and tiring fast, but still wouldn’t give up.  

‘No matter. Another minute of this and he’ll be nothing but dust.’

“She was my everything, you bastard. She was all I had left,” Spike snarled.

As their swords came together again, Spike leaned in. He smiled suddenly, causing the other demon to stumble in confusion. Then Spike released one hand from his sword and punched Sylam in the face.

The force of the blow caused the demon to stumble back several paces, providing Spike with the opening he’d been waiting for. He was on him in an instant. Sword, claws, a headbutt or two – each tactic kept Sylam off his game until the other demon was lashing out at Spike in rage. Wasting his energy.

Spike was openly smiling now, thrilling to the dance as his opponent was swathed in his own blood. The scent egging his demon on to more destruction. More mayhem.

“What’s the matter?” Spike taunted. “Gotta broken nose? Need to run home to your mum?” He twirled his sword with his wrist then swung it in a downward arc towards Sylam. The demon somehow managed to block the move, but not the punch to his face or the kick to the back of his leg that sent him down on one knee.

“How?” Sylam managed to gasp out.

“You didn’t really think your little taunts were getting to me, did you?” They had been, but Sylam didn’t need to know that. “You must not’a looked too deep in my past. Been a bloody vampire over a hundred years. Learned a thing or two about mind games. Angelus was a master at them.”

In the midst of his speech, Sylam had lost his sword – which suited Spike just fine. He tossed his own aside and went to work on the head assassin using just his fists and feet…and the occasional claw.

Minutes later, the nearly defeated Sylam was struggling to remain upright. One eye was completed sealed shut, the other not far behind. Cuts and bruises marred his face, and blood dribbled from a lip split several times over. He had one useless arm clutched tight to his side, protecting his cracked ribs.

Not that it mattered.

Spike went to work on the other side.

He took great delight in every grunt, every moan of pain that escaped the demon’s mouth. Images of his broken slayer were forefront in his mind, and he repaid every lash she’d received, every cut or bruise she’d suffered, in kind.

“No more,” Sylam gasped as he fell to the floor yet again.

Spike crouched over the fallen demon. “No more? No more?!?! So what? I’m just supposed to kill you? Put you out of your misery now?”

At the demon’s pitiful groan, Spike laughed. He grabbed the tattered remains of Sylam’s shirt and hauled his upper body up off the floor until they were nose-to-nose. “You chose to come after me, you git. Then you took away the one thing I had left in this world. So killing you anytime soon ain’t gonna happen.”

~*~*~*~*~

Spike pushed himself to his feet and stumbled away from all that remained of the Order’s top man. Angelus, the old Angelus, would have been proud of him. He’d played for hours alone inside the sacrificial chamber. According to Daniel, only Sylam and Desdem had access to the place, thus enabling Spike to torture the demon at his leisure.

And had he.

The demon’s screams had bounced off the stone walls while he’d had his fun. His railroad spike days were nothing compared to what had been done to Sylam. He’d lived in the moment, drawing out the demon’s anguish until he’d died from the combination of endless pain and unrelenting torture he’d endured. When he’d drawn his last breath, Spike had reclaimed his sword and hacked Sylam into unrecognizable pieces. Daniel hadn’t said how to ensure the demon’s death, but a million tiny pieces ought to have done the trick.

Now, weary beyond belief, and with no one to bear witness, he allowed the anguish of the Slayer’s death to take hold.

Spike dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her body onto his lap, finally letting loose with the tears he’d wanted to shed. He couldn’t put into words what her death meant to him. From mortal enemies to reluctant allies. Then lovers, and he’d like to think, even friends – they’d experienced it all. Now he was back to being alone, and he’d never had a chance to say—

His body rocked back and forth as he cried.  

How had she managed to come to mean so much to him in so short a time? What was it about her – a bloody slayer, no less – that had made him purr in contentment when she was near? Made him modify his natural instinct to kill any and all that crossed his path when he fed to where he was searching out the lowlifes, the criminals, the dregs of society, just because it helped ease her conscience?

He knew the answer, but shied away from it. It wasn’t right. Wasn’t natural.

‘So you claimed her why again? Face it, William, you’ll always be love’s bitch.’

Spike stared down at the Slayer and could no longer hide the truth from himself. Sometime in the last few months he’d fallen in love with the girl. It wasn’t something that he’d planned, or wanted. He couldn’t even say when it happened, but he did know that his attitude had softened the moment she’d given him Dru’s ashes. And if they’d never been thrust together like they had, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to kill her.

She’d earned his undying gratitude with her selfless act.

So lost in his grief, he didn’t register Daniel’s presence until the demon spoke.

“It’s time to leave. Bring Buffy and come on.”

The heartless attitude of the demon had Spike’s head snapping up and a growl emanating from his throat.

“Spike! We’ve got to—” The loud rumbling as the floor began to shake cut off Daniel’s voice for a moment. “Look… I don’t have time to explain things right now. This place is about to come crashing in around our ears. Now, bring Buffy and follow me.”

Spike glanced around and watched as decorations scattered about the room began to vibrate and tumble to the ground. He stood, sweeping the Slayer’s lifeless body up into his arms and followed Daniel back the way he’d come.

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