Rating: PG13 for Spike's cursing
Summary: Post NFA, Spike gets a visit
Notes: probably the first in a new series of ficlets*g*
Spike woke up in a puddle of blood, rain plowing into him as he lay there, held together just barely by the leather of his coat that seemed about ready to fall apart in a puddle of proteins. The red mud stuck to his hands and face and he looked up, wondering what had happened to the fight, to the others. There was nobody.
Just an empty alley with deep red puddles and bits and pieces that he didn't dare try and name.
As he clawed his way up, he realized that he could barely move, his muscles strained under his weight and he knew he needed something to keep him up.
"You could use Angel's sword. He's not going to need it now."
Spike turned around to the side where the voice was coming from. There was a boy standing there, holding a sword in his hands. The boy had black hair, standing straight up, dressed like a Goth wannabe, dark make up, pierced eyebrows and all.
Spike snarled at him, finally recognizing the sword in the boy's hands as Angel's.
And who are you, but he didn't bother to ask that one.
"All around you." the boy said. There was more compassion in his voice this time. That and an understanding that lay years beyond his age.
"He died bravely, foolishly, but brave. He managed to take out the dragon before he went."
"Who the bloody fuck are you?"
Spike's knuckles tightened, growing white as his rage grew.
"I'm God." Spike could barely keep hold of his shock and was just in time to catch the sword as it came at him, hilt first.
"I'm sorry Spike, your friends died."
The boy left the alley, Spike hesitated for a second before going after him, keeping himself up with the sword, but ready to use it, motivated by his anger. And grief, grief foremost.
"Bring them back. If you're calling yourself a god, then use those damn godly powers of yours to bring them back."
The boy, God, looked away sadly, he had no answer. That in and of itself was an answer.
"So what? You let them die, you're sodding well letting innocent people get slaughtered so that you can what? Go all 'I'm the allmighty' when all's done and over?"
"You have free will Spike, all of you do, humans, demons. I can't interfere like that. I'm not that unfair."
Spike growled, ready to hit the boy in the face. Something though, something stopped him.
He was breathing and he hadn't even realized it up till now. His hand moved to his chest, touching it...
"No, no, no bloody fuckity fuck, no..."
"I'm sorry Spike, it's the way it had to go."
"No. Turn me back, turn me back you bleeding perverted panty waisted wannabe, turn me the bloody fuck back."
He hit the boy now, and stopped, staring at him, as he lay there, the boy that claimed he was God, lying there in a puddle of blood, wiping his own off from his nose.
"I need your help Spike."
"Do I need to explain the word no to you?"
The boy just chuckled.
"Oh Spike, you really don't know how proud I've been of you for the past few years. How incredibly, unbelievably shattered beyond belief that any demon could finally realize his free will and choose to turn back to the light."
Spike felt a blush grow over his face, turning his eyes to the dirt, unwilling to look the boy in the eyes, to look in those eyes and see a lie. But the boy got up and lifted his chin, showing amazement and wonder while looking at him.
"I can't force you Spike. Like I said, free will, free choice. But I need you."
"For what? I'm human, what the bloody fuck could I possibly do?"
"There's a girl, in Arcadia..."
And so when Spike finally looked to the sky, and the boy left him, waving his hand as he went. All Spike could do was laugh... and plan his move.