Written for good__evil as a companion piece for my Evil Spike fic Death and Destiny. Set post Not Fade Away.

Beta'd by Always_jbj

It had shocked him at first, to see her there, fighting amongst the demons that had poured into the dank alley.

Drusilla, his dark princess, the woman he thought was his destiny. She was, in a way, after all if not for her he would never have met Buffy. Would never have realised that he could be more. More than a timid poet or a savage killer. He could be a hero, a champion.

“Spike!” The voice called to him through the throng.

Turning to the sound of the voice, he wielded his sword and temporarily dismissing the woman who had caught his attention mere minutes before.

“Charlie boy, still kicking, I see.” He thrust the sword forward, deep into the chest of the demon who was wrestling with his injured friend. Grabbing Gunn under the arm, Spike managed to manoeuvre him so that he rested against a nearby wall.

“Thanks,” Gunn managed to groan the word out as he slumped down. His stomach was burning and he knew that he had little time left, hell he was surprised that he was still alive. The pain was dulling though, and he doubted that was a good sign.

Spike nodded, pausing as if to say something else before changing his mind and ploughing back into the thick of the battle. Casting a glance around he noted Illyria cutting down demons one after the other, Angel was still battling towards the dragon, determined that he would have a grand trophy.

“’Ello, Princess.” Spike moved to stand in front of Drusilla.

“My Spike.” Her voice floated across the sounds of battle to him. “You’ve been a bad dog.”

“I prefer to think I’ve been a good man.” Spike gave her a wistful smile, while his hand tightened around the stake he had tucked inside his jacket.

“You’ve been helping daddy make all this blood.” A single tear drifted down her face as she lifted her hands to tug at her hair. “But it’s all wrong, wrong, wrong.” Keening she doubled her arms across her stomach as she let her game face slide into place. “Bad dogs need to be punished.”

Spike flicked his eyes towards Angel before turning them back to his sire. “Well if you punish me now, luv, you’ll miss seeing your daddy getting all chewed up by that dragon there.”

Drusilla squealed, spinning around to seek Angel out, a frown marring her face when she noted he was nowhere near the dragon. She gasped as a sharp pain filled her chest, her hand flying to the stake that had pierced her from behind.

Spike allowed himself a moment to stare at the ashes at his feet, he thought Drusilla had whispered something as she had turned to dust, but the sound was lost to the battle.

Striding forward he took his place, fighting against the masses once more.

--------

He wasn’t really sure what had happened after Drusilla’s death, it all seemed to be a blur of clashing steel, fists against flesh and the sounds of pain and misery.

They had won though—well, he supposed they had because the demon horde had stopped coming. Angel was gone, turned to dust in the mouth of a somewhat puzzled dragon. Who knew that ash caught in the throat of one of those beasts could fell them in a matter of minutes. Surprisingly, Gunn had still been alive at the end, only to be snatched up by Illyria and taken into another dimension. He hoped that wherever the blue goddess had taken him it was somewhere peaceful and safe.

So here he sat, covered in blood and surrounded by the ashes and corpses of family and foes—sitting in a dank alley, the rain still pouring down and with absolutely no idea of what to do next. Allowing himself time to adjust, Spike puzzled on the final whispered words that Drusilla had cast at him. It had vaguely sounded like remember, but he had no idea what it was that he was supposed to remember.

That he had once loved her? That she was family? The battle? Spike ran a hand through his hair, he would never know he supposed, although he did know that with both Dru and Angel gone he was without any family at all.

A noise towards the end of the alley caught his attention; wearily he stood and made his way in the direction of the sound. On the way he grabbed a sword from the ground, after all everyone on his side was either dead or disappeared, so it could only be another enemy he had to fight.

There, hidden amongst a pile of demon bodies, sat a small girl, drawing in the blood that had spilled onto the ground.

“”ello, poppet.” Spike squatted down beside the child. “What are you doing there?”

“Drawing.” The small girl turned turquoise eyes towards him.

Delphin, the name ghosted across his mind as he stared down at the child. Delphins were an elven demon mix, dainty—almost ethereal in looks, they were also one of the most vicious and deadly creatures in existence in any dimension. This one looked to be about four years old, still small enough to pass as human if one was to merely glance in their direction.

“So what are you drawing, poppet?” Spike knew that he should kill the small demon now, before she grew up and became a real threat. Images of another little girl, clad in a simple white nightgown, drifted before him though, and he stayed his hand.

He little girl popped a blood soaked thumb into her mouth, sucking thoughtfully before removing it to speak. “This is my mama,” she pointed to a crude figure drawn in red, “an’ this is my papa, an’ this is you making them all dead. Why did you make them all dead?” Her eyes held no hint of pain or fear, just the mildest curiosity about his actions.

“’m sorry about that, little one.” Spike was at a loss at how to explain to the child why he had slain her family. “I just had to.”

“’s ok.” She went to put her thumb in her mouth again before frowning and holding the bloody digit up towards him. “Want some?”

Spike shook his head. “Had enough blood today I think, pet.”

“Tired.” The child yawned, her head nodding down slightly. “Wanna go home.”

“Where’s your home sweetheart?” Spike gently stroked her hair.

She pointed towards the wall. “’s gone now.”

Spike sat for a moment staring at the spot that had been a dimensional tear only a few hours ago. There was no going home for the Delphin child; she was like him now, adrift in a world with no family to care for them.

He decided then, in that moment, this child was now his responsibility. “Come on poppet, let’s go find someplace to sleep.” Standing he bent down to scoop up the girl, nestling her close to him. Spike took one last look around the battlefield before heading out towards the street.

The building lay in ruins before him; the once great Wolfram and Hart lay shattered at his feet. Glancing down at the sleeping child nestled in his arms; Spike began to carefully pick his way through the ruins. Inside sat a small box which contained some cash and the keys to a house that they owned in London. His house, in fact, or William’s at least, the deeds passing from one member of their vampiric family to the next, always kept as a safe haven should they ever need it. Hopefully the box still lay somewhere inside Angel’s ruined office.

Spike felt relief flow through him as he noticed that the office was largely untouched, well he could get to it at least. Manoeuvring past a fallen beam, Spike saw the shattered remains of a couch in one corner, using one foot he managed to kick the cushions into place and lay the sleeping child on them before turning his attention to seeking out the box.

Angel had kept it in a safe in the rear wall, but as the wall was now gone he would have to focus his search on finding the remains of the safe instead. Carefully, he began to move the debris aside, pausing occasionally when the building would groan and dust and concrete would rain down. After about an hour, he finally spotted what looked to be the safe, as he moved a larger piece of concrete aside he noticed that beside it lay the figure of a woman.

“Eve.” Spike spoke her name without even realising it. Once again he was assaulted by images of a small girl, this time she was catching fireflies in the dark.

“William.” Eve’s eyes opened, filled with pain and loss. “I think I’ve been popped.”

Pain hit Spike in the chest as the memories flowed more freely, memories of what he had done so many years ago. “’m sorry, poppet. I’m sorry I killed your family, I’m sorry I caused you to live this life.”

Eve smiled. “You remembered.”

Spike nodded. “I forgot for a long time, I think maybe my sire did something so I wouldn’t remember you.”

“It’s ok.” Eve coughed, pain darting across her face. “You came back for me in the end. Where’s Angel?” She tried to look past him.

Spike took a deep breath. “He’s gone, Eve.”

“Ok.” Eve moved her hand to grasp onto his, her grip loosening as she drifted away.

Spike sat for a moment, allowing himself to grieve for the woman before him, and for the innocent child she had once been.

Shaking himself from his memories, Spike continued his search, relief filling him when he finally found the deed still nestled within the battered remnants of the safe.

Making his way back to the child, he studied her silently. He had stolen Eve’s life from her when she was no older than the child before him. Murdered her family and placed her in the hands of evil; creating the woman she was today. Perhaps, if he tried, he could atone for his sin. The child before him could be given a chance to become something more than she was born to be; someone better.

Tucking the contents of the box safely inside his coat, Spike scooped up the child again. She stirred slightly. “Hi, poppet, I’ve got everything we need to go to our new home. Would you like to come and live with me?”

She studied him for a moment before nodding. “Will you be my new papa?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I think so.” Her eyes grew solemn. “Can I call you papa?”

“Of course, poppet.” Spike remembered then that he didn’t know her name. “An' what are you called, my sweet.”

“Child.”

Of course, Spike recalled that Delphins did not use names, they simply used titles.

“Would you mind if I gave you a name?”

Her eyes widened at the thought of having a name of her own. “Yes, please.”

“Ok, a name.” Spike searched for the perfect fit, a name that would embody all that he hoped he could raise this child to be. Gentle, loving, caring. He stopped then and looked down at his precious cargo. “I know the perfect name for you, poppet.”

She looked up at him eagerly. “What’s it?”

“Tara.”