Author's Note: Well folks, none of you know me… I'm rather new at this, although I've been writing for a long time. This is my first stab at fanfic, an answer to a challenge issued by Kantayra, 'Making Amends'. By the way, that woman is simply one of the finest Spike/Buffy writers out there. Hands down. Hands all over actually, but that's besides the point ~smirk~

There are so many of us who would have loved to see the end of Season 5 and also Season 6 go off in a completely different direction, and in that light I must thank Kantayra for handing us over the keys to this one. I can see many jumping at the opportunity to tell it like they would have loved to see it. This is my answer to her challenge. Gonna take this baby out for a spin. Promise not to scratch the paint, luv. Anyone wanna come along? ;^) ~ Limerickgirl

oh hey.. about the picture above? I am aware that there's some Season 7 imagery in there, and this picture was never created for this story. I made it at the beginning of the year. It just seemed to fit with the general mood of the beginning of this story, which is an extremely tormented, lamentful Spike. And you know what? I think I'll let his hair go a little. heh.

Disclaimer: All hail Joss Whedon, for he is an original storyteller. Everyone here belongs to him. Well, not me of course... and no, he simply isn't my type. Love his brain though.

Distribution: You like this? Are you sure? If you really insist, drop me a line. I love a bit of banter now and then. limerickgirl@yahoo.co.uk

Timeline: Season 5, The Gift, only Buffy doesn't have to jump... swerves off in a whole new direction from that point. Spike feels a tremendous amount of failure. The beginning is a painful look at Spike's lament for himself, Dawn and Buffy. Despite the outcome, despite the fact that everyone is safe, he loses in that horrendous fall to the earth the one thing that drove him day in and day out... hope. Will Buffy help him find it again? This first chapter is very bleak. The next will be brighter. Promise.

Note: text in italics denotes thoughts or emphasized actions :^)

Story started September, 2003... WIP... Rated NC-17 eventually ;^)

Chapter One - Resolutions

There are about a million things Spike thinks of as he rushes up the stairs to protect Dawn. To save her. Because that's what he promised. Somebody's up there with her, at the top of that tower, and he can't help but feel that someone's about to make Dawn walk the bloody plank... and he thinks that someone with Dawn smells awfully familiar. Funny though, there's a deeper stink of evil woven in the smell, and it fills him with a rush of excitement, as if putting this being out of commission will certainly afford him a bloody good day indeed. As he approaches the final few steps he hears the familiar voices: Dawn's plea… and him.

"Spike!!" Dawn cries as Spike swaggers towards Doc.

"Doesn't a fella stay dead when ya kill him?" he asks.

"Look who's talking." Doc answers, with little annoyance in his voice. This is, after all, almost over. And quite frankly he isn't surprised by the interruption.

"C'mon Doc, let's you and me have a go." 'Atta boy, Spike, distract him a little longer, sun's comin' up, Hell-Bitch is goin' down, Spike thinks.

"I… do have a prior appointment." Doc says, gesturing to Dawn behind him. She grasps the ropes a little tighter.

"This won't take long…" he says in a quiet, yet mocking tone.

Doc couldn't agree more. "No… well, I don't imagine it will."…

In the seeming eons of time it takes for Doc to lunge at him with the blade Spike thinks there are probably one hundred and forty seven different ways he could do this properly and take Doc down. None of them materialize however and he feels the blade penetrate his back. The shock, more than the pain, of the act makes him scream, and he hears Dawn scream with him. Bollocks. The knife clatters to the ground and Spike manages to stand between Dawn and the demon, who looks at him with great curiosity. The demon sees the aura of protection Spike emits, for this girl of all things, and remarks that he doesn't smell a soul anywhere on him. And why should he even care?

"I made a promise to a lady," Spike answers, and for a brief moment he feels as if he could do this, protect Dawn till the very end, even if that happens to be tonight. Its a brief moment indeed as Doc manages to shift the balance of power one more time and overpowers the Vampire yet again. Spike feels something so unaccustomed to him then... dread.

He casts a final glance at Dawn as Doc grasps him and leans him towards the edge, and he sees her fear. Fear not only for him, but no doubt for herself. He's gripped by the smothering reality that he's leaving her here to die. His mind is frozen in the moment, in her expression, and all he can whisper is… "No." He looks at Dawn as he says this, and all he can think of himself then is…

Failure.

~~*~~

There are about a million things he might like to do differently, Spike thinks, as he sails towards the ground, his life and unlife flashing before his eyes. His fall isn't as quick and punishing as he'd like. He's lingering in the motion of his descent, and his mind is working overtime to bring all his failures to the forefront before he reaches the ground and hopefully impales himself on a nice, sharp piece of timber. He briefly wonders if his explosion into dust would be spectacular looking. Sadly he figures that nobody would even be aware that the dust of his body would be little more than construction dirt, billowing in the commotion of the fight. No, he assumes, nobody would notice. Too bad he couldn't have burst into flames on the way down. Somebody would notice then. Better they shouldn't think about him at all, he figures. And isn't he a selfish bastard?

Failed as a man. Failed as a monster. What's the bloody point worrying about how my dust will look billowing in the wind, so long as it's bloody dusty.

And then, as if rewarded for this brief, clarifying thought, the ground rushes up to meet him. He lands with a terrible impact, a shattering of something more than flesh and bone. There's no convenient piece of lumber jutting through his back. No bursting into dust, or flame. His spirit is utterly destroyed though. He just had to land on a pile of rubble. Couldn't have fallen three feet to the left. Fucks it all up, he does. Couldn't even get the dying part right.

Dawn. He rips his mind away from the incredible pain he feels to think of the girl he left to die, and asks whatever god isn't busy at the moment with the planning of apocalypses to intervene on some level, and help her. She's a precious thing in his eyes. Totally innocent, totally worthy of enjoying some sort of life that doesn't involve locks and keys, portals and dimensions. How he wishes he could have spent more time with her. It seemed she always had time for him. He meant what he said when he promised to protect her. On some level he loves her as well. Like a little sis, she is. She's her little sis. He wanted so desperately to protect them both.

Buffy. He chokes back his tears when he thinks of his golden warrior goddess. His ray of sunshine, for that's what she is to him. The most incredibly radiant woman he has ever seen. His heart breaks even deeper as he thinks of her. Surely, if she were still alive, she'd hate him now. And he wouldn't blame her in the least. He hates himself now, and didn't think that would ever be possible. For a brief moment he thinks he should hate her for the fact that he's so helplessly in love with her. For the fact that she trusted him, relied on him... god, what was she thinking?

And why can't the fucking ground just open, and swallow him up. Because if Buffy is alive he doesn't think he could bare to see her hatred, no matter how much he thinks he deserves it. If he could just keep their last conversation in his mind, lie to himself that in some small way he mattered, he could greet the sunrise and storm into hell with fewer regrets. Because there's always regrets. Surely there had to have been a hundred and forty seven different ways to save her. And he couldn't think of one.

~~*~~

Buffy begins her charge up all those steps to Dawn. Her body literally hums with the rush of defeating Glory, but also of sparing Ben. She's kept her vow not to take a human life, and although she hears the warning bells ring in the back of her mind that indeed, Glory would most definitely return one day to wreak havoc on the Hellmouth, she feels the weight of the world slowly lifting off her shoulders… easing ever so slightly. All she needs to do now is get Dawn down from there. And wasn't that Spike she saw out of the corner of her eye charging up the steps just a few minutes before?

Her heart clenches just a little as she thinks of him. He's sacrificed so much for her. She can't let this go unrewarded. She must let him know, and the others as well, that he matters, in some way, that he has a place there with them. She'll get up there, find Dawn in the comforting arms of the vampire, her friend, and together they'll bring her down. And I could maybe hug him just a little, because, hey, friends here! she thinks, a smile tugging ever so slightly at her lips.

As she reaches the final steps her thoughts and hopes are shattered, for the bleached vampire is nowhere in sight, and a strange little man is standing ever so close to Dawn…

"Buffy," Dawn whimpers.

Doc swings around to meet the slayer, his blade at the ready, but before he can even say a word Buffy surges towards him and in one fluid motion, sends Doc flying off the tower.

"Buffy, he stabbed Spike! And he threw him over the side! Oh my god!!" Dawn cries. "He tried to save me, Buffy! Where is he?? Did you see him?"

"Dawnie, we need to get you down from here, are you hurt?" Buffy asks as she feels around for injuries, not yet noticing the slash across the fabric covering Dawn's stomach.

"He cut me…" she whispers, and Buffy's face turns white. Can't let her bleed. 'Cause it's always got to be blood, she remembers Spike saying. Quick! Think! Buffy moves the fabric away for a moment, searching for the stream of blood that must no doubt be making it's way down Dawn's stomach. She surveys the horizon and sees that the sunrise is close… if she could just stop the bleeding.

Dawn feels a trickle down her leg and is gripped by the sadness that perhaps it's too late and this is really happening. Somewhere inside she's been preparing herself for this moment. She knows that if her blood hits the fabrics that separate the dimensions it's all over till she dies.

"Buffy, my leg… the blood, it's…" Buffy lifts the dress and wipes up the blood that is so dangerously close to falling. Tears off her white sweater and presses it into the wound on Dawn's stomach. Releases Dawn and lifts her, rushing towards the steps and hopefully, safety. "Please let Spike be OK," Dawn whispers, tears streaming down her face. Buffy's heart aches as she runs with Dawn down to the others, oh he's just gotta be ok, she thinks, can't go through all this with me and then up and bite it… ooh, bad word usage… or is that punnage? What's a little fall for a vampire anyway? She amends that thought, OK, big fall… still, not gonna die! Right?

Spike…

~~*~~

The world comes crashing back to Spike when he hears a tremendous thud! close by. Dust flies up his nose from the impact and he curses himself as he feels the scratchy dirt gather at the back of his throat.... buggers up his awful habit of breathing, it does. Great. He opens his eyes and is momentarily shocked to see the twisted form of Doc lying before him, motionless, not three feet away.

"Well, will you look at that?" Spike mumbles to nobody in particular, and sure, nobody in particular is nearby anyway… probably all huddled over the bleeding and broken bodies of Dawn and Buffy, he imagines.

Spike judges the distance between them in terms of arms lengths, and determines that if he could just inch his way forward, just a bit, he could wrap his cold, dead knuckles around Doc's throat, and meet his death with an extra ounce of dignity. He's rewarded somewhat when he sees a flicker of movement from the demon's body. For a moment he wonders if Doc is lying here in a heap before or after he's cut Dawn to shreds and his anger surges to the surface. He's so enraged at the scrobie little demon, he'd love to reach out and snap his stalky little neck. Gotta move, Spike… just a few inches, mate.

Spike makes a move to crawl closer to Doc's body, eager for that satisfying snap! of his neck, only the pain associated with this seemingly simple action is blinding. He reaches his arm out toward his enemy and wants to scream bloody murder when only his fingertips brush against the demon's still form. Christ all FREAKING mighty! Gotta move! Gotta rip this one to shreds! Casting Doc a hateful glance, Spike decides to gather up a little more strength and then try again. Surely the fall would have totally immobilized Doc, and although he'd prefer to greet the sunrise killing something, he'll give the vampiric healing just a few more minutes. Surely he has a few more minutes?

"Look at you, all battered and broken," the demon sneers. Spike, full of shock, opens his eyes, only to be greeted by Doc's beady black ones. "Too bad you couldn't save her, vampire, but full points for effort."

Spike snorts and gives Doc an awful leer. "I'm thinkin', you down here all flattened and messy must mean she's still up there, alive and well. At least, you had better hope she is…"

"Oh, she isn't though. You see, I bled her," Doc smiles at Spike's disgusted expression. "Oh yes, I sliced her… in fact, I made a pretty pattern on her stomach. Kinda looked like a Z, like Zorro," Doc says proudly, albeit quietly.

Spike lashes out at the demon with all his might, blinding pain be damned. He grasps Doc's coat and tries to tug him towards himself. He'd like to smash in his disgusting little face with his other fist, but he can't lift his other arm at all. He lets go for a moment, hoping to instead grab him by the neck, wanting so desperately to crush his spine in his grasp, but Doc uses that brief moment of freedom to squirm away.

"No, no, no, NO!!" Spike screams as he reaches out his hand, leaving it linger in the air as he watches Doc slither away. "No…" he whispers then, smacking his hand down on the rubble, grasping the dirt, and feels the incredible burden of failure again. Fuck! He looks at Doc's retreating form one more time and in his darkest moment, as if by some miracle, a large chunk of concrete tumbles from the side of the building, landing squarely on Doc's head. The sound of the demon's brains splattering and spraying the area should be satisfying to Spike, but he's so consumed by his self-defeat that he can't take pleasure, and that truly is the final straw.

Spike glances at the sky and sees as well as feels the approaching sunrise. He's so completely demoralized that he doesn't notice the fact that there is no gaping portal churning above them, no Hell beasties crawling up from the boiling depths. In what Spike is sure will be his final act, he decides to roll himself over and greet the morning sun. He feels it coming up behind him, ever so close, and this kiss of death is now so totally welcome he is nearly relieved by it. He closes his eyes and painfully shifts his weight, rolls over, eager to feel the burning sun… and groans when he feels nothing. Spike frowns and opens his eyes, only to be greeted by the concerned expressions of Giles, Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, Buffy and Dawn. They're gathered around him, standing so closely together as to make sure he isn't touched by the rays of the morning sun.

~~*~~

"Spike?" Tara asks, worry so evident in her voice.

Spike closes his eyes, doesn't really want to answer. Leave me alone.

"What should we do? Can he hear us?" Dawn asks, crying again. The sound of her voice jars him momentarily from his self-made mental dungeon and he opens his eyes again slowly, if only to look at her for a moment. Gotta know she's OK. He sees her there, leaning on Buffy, careful to keep close to her so the rays of the sun can't peek between their bodies and scorch him. He notices that her dress is torn up to her knees and gasps as he sees a trickle of blood rapidly making it's way down to her foot. As if in slow motion he watches the blood slide down past the curve of her ankle and holds his unneeded breath as it touches the ground. And he realizes finally in that moment when the blood pools at her foot, that the danger is truly over and Dawn is indeed OK, that Doc didn't succeed. He looks at Buffy then and realizes that surely Glory must be dead as well and he finally lets the breath out slowly, closing his eyes once more.

She's bleeding 'cause of me, he thinks, 'cause I let her down. I let Buffy down. Let Dawn get hurt, he chastises himself. PLEASE go away!! he wants to scream.

"Spike, it's OK. We're OK." Buffy assures him, as if she knows what's churning through his head. She knows better than anyone that all Spike's concerned with now is that Dawn is alright. "Spike, please… you have to get up, you have to find shelter," she says as she gestures towards the threatening sun.

Spike chuckles at this. "Can't you lot appreciate a good death when you see one?" Would you all just piss off and let me die already? Let me catch the next strong breeze out of here.

Xander seems irritated by his remark. "Well, normally I'd have no problems with you meeting a dusty demise, Bleach Boy… but you took a fall for Dawn," Xander swallows hard, looks at the others, and then back at him, "And that means something." Xander hates to admit it, but Spike's earned a sliver of respect this evening, and perhaps he could cut him a bit of slack, even if it's just for tonight.

Spike hears someone else crying and is shocked to see Tara looking at him so sadly, tears streaking down her face. Poor Glinda, he thinks, you've had such a rough go of it, luv. Please don't bloody well cry for me.

"Help me move him," Giles says to the others, "over there… bit of an alcove, you see? It'll do for now." They carefully bend down, making sure to keep him sheltered from the sun and grasp him tightly. "Sorry, mate," Giles whispers somewhat apologetically as he grasps Spike's broken leg. Shooting pains cause him to bite back a moan as they begin to shift him out of the sunlight, shading him as they slide him along the ground. Once he is safely huddled in the alcove they straighten him out and he thinks to himself that he looks like a dead man all laid out for his grave. Already bloody dead, he chides himself, coulda been deader, but no. Bloody humans and their bloody pointless compassion.

"Tara, Willow, I want you to stay with him. He's bleeding severely. Buffy, Xander, take Dawn and Anya to the hospital. I'll make sure there's nothing evil left lurking," Giles instructs, and then looks at Spike, "Well, evil and threatening at any rate." Spike clenches his teeth, the taut muscles of his jaws flexing under his skin. That's right, mate, go on then, have a good laugh while yer at it. Giles waits for the snide remark from Spike that on a normal day would be forthcoming very quickly from such an insult and is surprised by Spike's silence. It more than surprises him actually, and he's disturbed by the momentary desire to let Spike know that he's done well by them this evening, but he lets it go. He thinks he may still do that later though, but for now he has to attend to Ben . He knows Buffy spared him, and he has to go and rectify that mistake once the others have left.

~~*~~

When the others leave, Willow and Tara kneel down and begin the task of checking Spike's injuries. He's losing blood, probably from bones jutting through skin, Willow thinks, and she shudders at the thought. She removes her sweater and shivers slightly, partly because of the cool morning air, and partly due to the incredible tribulations they've all just overcome, when they were sure that some of them wouldn't see morning. She watches Giles walk away, heading to the area where Glory had been and she feels the need to follow. She only has to look at Tara with a worried expression and her lover gives a gentle nod, permission in a sense to leave her tend to Spike and follow Giles.

Willow looks longingly at Tara, the love she thought she'd lost, and kisses her lips so softly. "I'll be back in a minute, baby. Don't go away?"

"Never," Tara answers her as she cups Willow's cheek in her warm palm, her beautiful eyes showing her how desperately she missed her… Never, ever again, she vows as she watches Willow carefully stroll away.

~~*~~

Willow watches as Giles approaches the terribly beaten body of Ben and gasps when she sees that he's still alive. Her mind reels at the implications of this because she knows that if Ben lives, then Glory could return. She knows that Buffy must have spared him, for she could never take a human life, but at what cost? Willow is gripped by the sudden desire to call forth the Hell bitch once more and this time shatter her into a million pieces. She knows she couldn't be so murderous though if that Hell bitch wore Ben's face.

Giles kneels down beside the young man who is now struggling for breaths, but breathing nonetheless, and Willow comes a little closer. She doesn't want Giles to see her, but she's gripped by a staggering curiosity as to what Giles will do. She hears Giles talk quietly, almost comfortingly to Ben, sees him take off his glasses, clean them as he often does when he talks. She hears him tell Ben that Buffy is not like them, that she could never take a human life, because she's a hero. Willow starts to cry as she watches the watcher. She knows what he's about to do, and despite the voice in the back of her mind that screams Murder! she knows it has to be this way.

Giles smothers Ben with his hand. There is no hatred on his face, no anger in his voice, and as Ben struggles and grasps Giles' jacket, Willow cries for them both.

She moves away then and hides behind a pillar and gathers herself together. It isn't long before Giles comes around the corner and sees her. He wonders if she's seen what he had to do for them all, for humanity, but before he has a chance to say anything he finds himself wrapped in Willow's arms. He doesn't know if she's comforting him, or the one needing comfort, but he hugs her tightly and strokes her hair.

Willow keeps his secret. "Ben?" she asks.

"He's dead," he replies. "Nobody could survive the injuries he sustained Willow."

"I know," she answers quietly, and hugs him tighter.

Giles looks around at the wreckage of it all. "All these bodies… good lord."

Willow surveys the disaster area they're standing in and remarks that this just looks like another typical accident on the Hellmouth.

~~*~~

"Don't need your help, pet, but thanks ever so," Spike mutters, a frown hiding the fact that a sick part of him is enjoying Tara's caring touch, even if he thinks she is terribly misguided to be paying him any attention at all.

"Don't be silly… you're so broken Spike. Even your injuries have injuries." This nets an angry growl from the vampire.

"Just leave. Really, luv… just wanna be left alone." Spike hisses as she ties a torn strip of Willow's sweater above the broken bone sticking out above his knee. She's not any good with the whole field medicine deal, she figures, but she knows enough to apply pressure there to stop the bleeding. She wishes Giles and Willow would hurry up and get back. Giles would know what to do about his broken bones. She decides that Spike's emotional injuries are much worse than his physical ones though, and she knows how to deal with those.

"You shouldn't be left alone, Spike. None of us should."

"Yeah? Well I'm not one of your precious Scoobies, am I? Was just here for the girl, nothing more." God he doesn't need this right now. Soddin' compassion from the good witch makes him terribly uneasy. Maybe it's the fact that of all of them, besides Dawn of course, he knows she cares whether he unlives or re-dies.

"Of course you're one of us," she huffs, and Spike's surprised by her candour. Last thing in the world he wants is to be a member of the Superfriends. He's always gonna be on the outside. That's just the way it has to be.

Tara gently wipes the blood from the side of his face, and the tenderness of the act makes him shut his eyes that much tighter. For a brief moment he wishes its Buffy there with him, cleaning his wounds, making him comfortable, making him whole again. But the thought is ever so brief. She'll never show him that type of tenderness, because he's a monster. Plain and simple. And he let Dawn get hurt. No, there's no room for Old Spike on her comfort wagon. Better shelve that thought, mate.

At that moment Spike makes a decision. He may have survived this ordeal. He'll walk away from these injuries, just like he always does. He'll mend his broken bones and recover his battered pride, but he'll make sure to bury his broken heart. Oh he'll help Buffy alright, if she needs him. He'll always enjoy a good kill. But he'll draw the line right there and keep his traitorous heart out of it.

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