Part One

With pain flaring through his skull and down his spine like white hot 
slivers of molten steel, Spike moaned and pushed himself up out of 
the blood soaked dust until he was balanced on his hands and 
knees. Nausea rolled through him for a brief horrifying moment as 
the world swam in and out of focus, but then his vision crystallized 
once more into preternaturally sharp edges. 

Raising his head to look at the destruction surrounding him, Spike 
briefly wished that he *couldn't* see with demonic clarity. He had 
often dreamed, and tossed off to the idea, of the Slayer and her 
Scooby Gang lying scattered about the blood drenched earth in 
torn and broken bits and pieces, the horror and pain of their death 
etched forever on their cold still faces...but this, this was 
just...*wrong*. 

Not just because he wasn't the one to have brought them so low. 

No...it was wrong for so *many* reasons. Some logical, some not so 
logical. It was wrong because Spike had come to *know* these 
children and they deserved more...dignity in death, more respect. 
They deserved to be cherished and honored by the one who took 
them down, but Glory...she held *everyone* in contempt. There 
was no grudging respect for a fallen enemy. No sense that she 
would even remember their names as the ones who had fought 
against her for so long and for so well. 

And that was *wrong*. 

In the deathly stillness of the pre-dawn evening, a pain filled 
moan of utter hopelessness and despair caressed his ears. For half 
a second, Spike felt as if that totally unexpected, but dearly 
welcomed sound had the power to make his long dead heart beat 
once again. Then, he rose shakily to his feet and stumbled off to 
locate the source. 

Spike didn't even bat an eye at the scorched and bloody bodies of 
the Knights of Byzantium, but he couldn't help but stop, a wave of 
regret washing over him as he came across Giles. The ex- 
Watcher's body was already cold, his face twisted into a rictious of 
pain and suffering. 

"Bloody Hell mate." 

He'd always known that the other Englishman would die an ugly 
death fighting the forces of darkness...but he never envisioned the 
man's corpse lying desolate in the dirt. Giles had always seemed 
too...proper and well bred for that. Ignoring his own pain, Spike 
knelt down quickly and reached out one cool pale hand. Gently, he 
ran his fingers over Giles' face, closing his eyes. It was the only 
dignity he could offer the man he had come to grudgingly call a 
friend. 

Quickly standing back up, Spike hurried away. That soft agonizing 
moan had shifted into quiet sobs of wrenching heartbreak and loss. 
He had to find the source of that sound. 

Turning the corner of the old abandoned Gas Station that they had 
comfronted Glory in, Spike was faced with a sight that made him 
want to vomit up the meager contents of his stomach. As he looked 
at the two separate bonfires smoldering down to their last embers, 
the sickeningly sweet stench of burnt flesh washed over him from the 
thick smoke still hanging in the still air. 

Two blackened and blistered corpses huddled, one on top of each 
pile of charcoaled wood. They were both disfigured beyond any 
recognition, their flesh burned off of their bones to the point that 
both sight and scent was useless to him. But Spike didn't need 
them to know who they had been. He had *seen* it happen at the 
time...and had been unable to stop it. 

In a fit of perversity, Glory had decided to burn the two witches at 
the stake. She had said that it was tradition. "Suffer not a witch to 
live." Spike knew that no matter how long he walked the earth, he 
would never forget the sound of their screams as their flesh 
peeled and blackened from their bodies. That was something that 
would haunt his nightmares forever. 

Staring at their charred corpses, Spike suddenly remembered Red 
baking him a plate of cookies in silent apology for one of her spells 
going wrong...and catching him up in it. He didn't even notice the 
soft whimper of loss and regret that escaped his own lips. 

Part Two

Thinking that if ripping his own eyes out would erase that sight from 
his memory he'd willingly claw his golden orbs out himself, 
Spike stumbled past the two smoldering piles of wood and flesh 
that had once been his friends. Turning the corner of the building 
once more, he found himself faced with more hideous and repulsive 
evidence of Glory's victory. 

Buffy. 

Unlike Giles and the witches, Buffy didn't technically leave a corpse 
behind. Spike was left to face only bits and pieces of flesh that 
could have belonged to no one else. A leather clad leg here. A slim 
golden arm there. A torn and shredded piece of skin with long 
flowing blonde hair caught and hanging from a low tree branch 
overhead. Glory had literally ripped the Slayer into pieces. 

Dropping to his knees, Spike shuddered and convulsed with 
overwhelming shock and dread. Then, he threw up a gout of bright 
red blood as nausea tore threw him. Spasms and tremors wracked 
his body for long moments until he tipped back his head and howled 
his wretched misery to the uncaring sky, blood red tears streaming 
unnoticed down his cheeks. 

Spike wasn't sure how long he knelt there mourning the death of 
the woman he had wanted to take as his mate and eternal 
lover...time had seemed to stop and lose all meaning and 
coherency. It could have been centuries...it could have been only 
moments. It didn't matter anyway, she was dead. 

Gone. 

He prayed that she was in Heaven, basking in her eternal 
reward...and not roasting in the depths of Hell for consorting with 
the demons she had been born to slay. However, if she *was* in 
Hell, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to carry the burden of 
knowing that she was suffering eternal torment for falling in love 
with Angel...and befriending and protecting himself. 

That's when he realized that he could still hear those soft whimpers 
and sobbing moans. *Someone* out there somewhere was still 
alive. Still breathing. And Spike was determined to find whoever it 
was. 

Pushing himself up to his feet once more, Spike haltingly made his 
way past the gruesome site of his ultimate agony. The sounds led 
him out towards the desert sands and a pile of rubble that had once 
been an outbuilding or storage shed. The closer he got to it, the 
easier it was to hear the source of those elusive and tantalizing 
sounds. 

Sobbing, hitched breaths. 

Whispered pleas and promises. 

A steady, if fast, heartbeat. 

Ignoring his own injuries and pain, Spike hurried over to the pile of 
shattered wood and metal. Leaning over it as best he could, he 
tried to figure out who was under it. A sliver of excitement and hope 
sizzled through him. 

"Hello! Can you hear me?" 

His own voice echoed from the distant hills and a harsh cry of pain 
came from beneath the rubble, though no clear and understandable 
words issued forth. But it was enough. 

Ruthlessly using his preternatural strength, Spike began to pull the 
pile of rubble apart. For what seemed like hours, he yanked off 
scraps of wood, stone and metal piping, scattering it behind him. 
He dug down, using the soothing sound of that living heartbeat as a 
beacon. Then, finally, he uncovered a bit of flesh. 

Cold dead flesh. 

Confused and worried, Spike dug faster. When he finally uncovered 
enough to actually *see* who was under all of the mess, he found 
Anya and Xander. Or rather...the decapitated corpse of Anya lying 
overtop of her still living boyfriend's warm and injured body. 
Spike grimaced. He could only imagine the mindbending torture of 
being buried alive with his girlfriend's headless body as his 
only company. Pity and sorrow for the young man he was 
excavating rose up in him. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spike managed to move enough 
rubble to pull Xander out of his own grave. The young man was 
liberally coated in blood...some of it his own, and tears flowed 
endlessly down his stubbled cheeks. Almost as a reflex, Xander 
bent down and reached for Anya's body. Spike had to physically 
restrain him, pulling his away. 

"She...she..." 

"I know pet, I know." 

"She...I would have been dead...she pushed me and then...and 
then..." 

Xander broke off with a horrified cry. 

"I know pet. We have to go. Get to the car and *leave*. Now!" 

Xander strained towards the pile of rubble once again, even as 
Spike tightened his grip on the young man's arm and slowly 
dragged him towards the car that Ben...Glory, whatever...had 
driven here. 

"Come on pet. Grieve *later*! We have to *go*. We'll...we'll go to 
L.A. We have to tell Angelus...My Sire will know what to do." 

For some reason, that seemed to snap Xander out of his horror 
induced desire to climb back into the grave he'd just been freed 
from. He turned haunted eyes on Spike, grief slowly giving way to 
hope. 

"Angel?..." 

Spike felt a rush of relief wash through him so strongly that it almost 
buckled his knees. That was the one quality about the whelp that 
he had always respected. His ability to face the cruelest evil...and 
still find a reason to fight back. Even if it was only the slim chance 
to get revenge. 

"Yeah pet. Angel. Now let's *go*." 

Part Three

"The others?..." 

Spike didn't answer Xander's tentative and hope-filled question. He 
merely shook his head in the negative. Then he had to quickly 
reach out and catch Xander as his legs collapsed under him. 
Pulling the dark haired man close to him, he gently lowered them 
both to the ground. Spike could hear Xander's heart start racing in 
painful loud thumps that reverberated through both of their chests. 
The young man's breathing became fast and shallow, even as his 
skin suddenly became cool and clammy. 

Shock. Xander had gone into full-fledged shock. While Spike could 
mentally understand this reaction to the devastation around them, 
he wasn't equipped physically or emotionally to deal with it. All he 
wanted to do was flee. To get to L.A. and cower in some dark corner of 
his Sire's home and try to feel safe and protected once again. 

And it was just as strong an urge to make sure that Xander went 
with him, but why exactly, he wasn't sure. Maybe because this 
tradegy and loss had forged some bizarre connection between them. 
Maybe because Xander was all Spike had left of his life in 
Sunnydale. Maybe because the boy would be living proof that all 
of this pain had actually happened and that Spike hadn't 
completely lost his mind and just imagined it. 

"Come *on* whelp. We have to bloody well get *out* of here!" 

He began to pull at the young man's body, but Xander just began to 
shake violently, his dark eyes going almost comically wide as he 
pointed over Spike's shoulder. The sharp acrid tang of fear 
suddenly enveloped his nostrils, totally overwhelming the scent of 
death, destruction and sorrow. A ball of jagged ice forming in the pit 
of his stomach, Spike turned to look over his shoulder. 

Glory stood highlighted against the night sky, one arm extended, 
her slim hand wrapped tightly around Dawn's neck, holding the 
crying girl upright. Fear the likes of which he had *never* known 
tore through Spike's mind and he whimpered, cringing back against 
Xander's body as they huddled together on the cold hard ground. 

"Well, well, well. What have we here? Survivors?" 

Glory tipped back her beautiful face and laughed. Silently, in the 
hollow of his mind, Spike prayed that Ben would suddenly find the 
strength to push Glory back down into the prison of flesh that he 
was born to be. Even if the pain killed Spike or gutted his mind out, 
he would kill Ben...and Glory with him. Then they would all be safe. 
But against Glory...a dark and twisted *God*, he could do nothing 
but tremble. But when have the Powers That Be ever answered 
the prayers of a soulless demon from the depths of Hell? 

Then, Glory was looking at them, a speculative and amused look in 
her eyes. 

"What to do with you two? Hmmm... Oh! I *know*, I'll reward you 
for all of your efforts at stopping me...and then somehow managing 
to survive my wrath. After all, that's *got* to be worth *something*. 
Right?" 

Xander clutched at Spike tightly as he shifted backwards, his one 
free hand fumbling along the ground behind him. Spike could 
clearly hear the choked gasp of breath, "love you Dawn, please 
forgive me" and then Xander's body tensed up behind him as the 
young man rose up on his knees, took quick aim, and threw a 
long thin piece of metal as if it was a javelin. The dark haired man's 
aim was true and it flew with unerring accuracy straight towards 
Dawn's heart. 

With a startled cry, Glory waved her free hand in the air and the 
piece of metal jerked to a halt in mid-air...mere inches from 
impaling Dawn Summers...and ending her life. Spike shuddered at 
the inner pain that it must have caused Xander to willfully try 
and end the life of the girl he considered to be a beloved sister. 

It had been a desperate last gambit to stop Glory from destroy the 
world...*all* worlds. But it had failed. *They* had failed. Now...it 
was time to pay the price. 

Glory, however, was not amused. 

"Oh...little boy. You shall *pay* for that." 

Standing up tall, Glory held out her hand, a ball of glowing energy 
formed over her palm, pulsing and shimmering as it increased in 
size. 

"I *curse* you for all eternity. A never-ending life to bask in the 
knowledge that you are forever mine. Forever dark. I curse you with 
the gifts and powers of your friends. Something from each of 
them...to remember them by." 

Spike's mind *screamed* at him to get up, to grab the whelp and 
*run*. To just *flee* and never ever look back. But he couldn't. His 
body refused to listen to him and he just sat there and shivered, 
huddled against Xander, whimpering and cowering before the mad 
Goddess of Death and Destruction. The Beast...in all her Glory. 

"I bequeath you the strength of the Slayer, the knowledge of her 
Watcher, the power of the witch and the visions of her lover. And 
*your* beloved? I give to you the memories of 1000 years of 
vengeance...but not *hers*. I bequeath you the suffering of her 
victims." 

Part Four

Glory smirked even as Spike shuddered at the implications of her 
curse. 

"Imagine it...eternally trapped inside of an indestructible body with 
the knowledge and power of high-level magicks at your 
disposal...yet combined with a child-like mind filled with the 
memories of a millennia of agony and insanity." 

Glory smiled at them. Her pose and expression one of someone 
considering an idea...and finding it pleasing. 

"Yes...that will do. A suitable reward for the man who would 
willingly destroy the Key in order to stop me." 

And then Glory threw the blazing ball of energy at them. Spike felt 
the displacement of air slam into him, knocking him over onto his 
back as the glowing energy connected with Xander's forehead. The 
young man screamed as if his skin was being peeled off of his body 
with a salt encrusted knife. Spike watched in terror as Xander 
jerked and thrashed in the grips of a pain-induced seizure, then 
collapse into welcoming oblivion. 

As the last twitches and tremors faded from Xander's body, Spike 
looked over at Glory. Some morbid and dark part inside of him 
wanted to watch with open eyes when his end came. And he knew 
that end was now. 

"And you my little vampire? Whatever shall I do with you?" 

Glory's smirk was back in place. 

"I know. It's that chip of yours. Fascinating piece of technology...but 
it's not quite right. There's something missing. It's not...cruel 
enough to you. But I can fix that." 

Spike watched, entranced with his own demise as a second ball of 
burning energy began to form in the palm of Glory's hand. 

"It's not really fair that you can't kill humans. After all, what 
else are they there for? Right? Still...I can't have you *happy* 
either...so I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to make 
it so you can kill all the humans that you want. However you want. 
As long as you don't actually *feed* from them. Or anything else. 
From now on, you won't be able to drink *any* blood. No humans, 
no animals...not even from a cup that someone else pours for you. 
You try it and you'll experience pain that will make that chip seem 
like a fond memory. Of course, you *do* need to eat to survive...and 
I want you to suffer a *long* *long* time, so I *will* allow you to 
feed from one person. And *only* one person." 

Glory's grin became harsh and cruel. 

"Him. The boy you were so set on rescuing. *That* will be your only 
food source for the rest of your existence. Bon appetite." 

And with that pronouncement, Glory threw the second ball of 
energy. It slammed into Spike's forehead and he knew nothing but 
mindbending, sanity dissolving *pain*. It felt as if he had swallowed 
the sun, burning and pulsing killer sunlight spilling through his 
very veins. Finally, mercy came in the form of unconsciousness. 
And he knew no more. 

#### 

With a groan, Spike felt awareness flood him once again. He 
ached. Everywhere. He imagined that this was what if felt like to be 
turned inside out and then right-side in once again. For a long 
moment, he wondered what he had done to deserve such a 
horrendous beating from Angelus...and then memory washed over 
him in a towering wave of skin-crawling awe. 

Gasping out a cry of denial, Spike jerked up into a sitting position, 
gameface to the fore, pinpricks of agony sizzling through him. 
Glancing around in his panic, Spike saw that Xander was already 
awake. The young man was sitting with his knees pulled up close to 
his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, rocking back and 
forth, a lost look etched on his face, his dark eyes blank and 
glazed. 

"It is time. Forever darkness. It is time. It is time. Forever darkness." 

Shivering in unholy terror at Tara's insane vision laced words 
pouring in a rush out of Xander's mouth, Spike turned away from 
the young man. Only to see Glory standing over Dawn's hollowed 
out corpse, flickering rainbow lightening in her hands. Then, right in 
front of the Demon Goddess a shimmering in the air coalesced into 
being, it's surface rippling. It was as if the desert heat waves had 
been made solid. The surface of a lake turned to molten glass. 

With a high pitched laugh of triumph, Glory stepped into the Mystic 
Gate...and vanished. 

"All is lost...forever darkness. Forever darkness." 

Another ripple began to form several hundred feet out across the 
desert. Spike was certain that it was another Mystic Gate. The 
borders and divisions between the Multi-Realms were coming 
undone. Soon, all of Heaven and all of Hell would be able to enter 
through the gates onto earth. Glory had won...and destroyed the 
universe in the process. 

"Yeah pet. I gotta agree with you on that one. Forever darkness. 
However...maybe all *isn't* lost. We have to get to Angelus. My 
Sire will know what to do. I mean, it takes one crazy fucker that 
tried to suck the world into Hell to stop another, right?" 

Xander didn't answer. Spike doubted if the dark haired man ever 
would again. 

With one last shudder at the destruction that happened here...and 
for the destruction yet to come, Spike pushed himself up off of the 
ground. Then, with a gentleness he had never shown Xander 
before, he helped the young man to stand up. Clinging valiantly 
to his one last hope, Spike led Xander over to Ben's car. 
They had to get to L.A. 

Fast.

END