Setting: AtS S5, Hell Bound
Word count: 288
Prompt: Ghost Fight at the O.K. Corral
A/N: Another solution to Spike’s ghostly woes.
How long had it been since he was first haunted by Pavayne? Time got trickier and trickier as it went on. Fighting in the dark, feeding his desire and grasping the weapons that came; he was doing well battling Pavayne, who had long mastered the arts Spike was only just discovering, but it wasn’t enough. Reality had slipped away a while ago, leaving him a dark otherworld between the living realm and hell.
Finally, suddenly, unexpectedly, he surfaced. Light seeped into the fabric of the shadow realm, colours drenching the air. These visits to reality were brief, scarce, and infinitely precious.
“I’m sorry,” Fred said immediately as he rematerialized. She’d built a waygate so he’d pop up in the same place whenever he got back. She must’ve been expecting him. “Gunn went to the White Room, but the conduit won’t give us a power source.”
“Must know I’m fadin’ too quick.”
“You still have a chance—”
“I know, I know. Fend him off myself. I’m tryin’.”
“No, I mean—”
Too soon, everything dulled and dimmed, and he found himself back in the dusky world.
The next time he got back to living colour, he was on his last legs. Barely able to stand, barely able to think under the strain of matching Pavayne’s blows both physical and mental. He fervently hoped whatever scheme Fred had been about to tell him would come to fruit.
“Not gonna make it,” he gasped out. “Being sucked in even now. So you better have some kind of…”
His vision cleared.
There she was. Buffy.
He reached out to touch her. Right there, in the flesh.
Reality bends to desire. Their fingers met and she pulled him from Hell.