An Unwelcome Return
The descent from the Ice Spear was a far quicker affair than the ascent, Revan and Canderous...
Mandalore the Preserver Spike forced himself to remember.
Revan and Mandalore had paused as they left to retrieve the jet packs of the fallen warriors from the tomb, neither of the ageing warriors wishing to test their muscles with yet another arduous climb, and yet despite the roar of the flames as they plummeted groundwards, the mood was silent, Spike’s wings slowing his own descent. Revan’s environment suit once again obscuring his face, Mandalore’s new mask obscuring his, while even Spike’s own helmet was tightly in place, the warriors looking implacable even as each warrior was locked in their own internal thoughts.
What the others were thinking was a mystery, one that neither Spike nor Moonstone had any right nor desire to intrude upon, yet Spike’s own mind was racing, the warrior he had become warring with the monster he had been when he had last saw that mask, the desolation beast he had sought to crush from his memory yet could never fully escape from. Veela’s words had cut him like a knife, dredging up the one event above all others Spike had no wish to ever recall, and while he had more than his fair share of demons from the past three wars he waged, from nearly losing himself on Dxun to the deliberate and calculated death of Vasdu, none would ever come close to the horror that was Ranox in his mind.
That thing has been dead for close to half a decade and we still can’t let him go Moonstone didn’t speak as dropped alongside him, his voice resonating directly inside his mind.
We do know how to pick our friends. Spike agreed in the same manner. Any group of people in the universe, and we throw our lot in with the one faction who has even a chance of knowing that...thing.
Guess no one else would take us
It was a strange thing to hear laughter reverberating around your head while the person who the laughter belonged to kept a straight, almost dour face, Spike unable to contain his own mirth at the sight as his lips cracked into a smile beneath his helmet, his own laugh being snatched away by the wind. Moments later, Moonstone’s composure cracked and she likewise burst into fits of hysteric giggles, drawing looks from Revan and Mandalore.
“Care to cut us in on the joke?” Mandalore asked.
“No joke,” Spike howled with laughter, fighting to keep his flight level as his entire body was rocked with an uncontrollable laughter that could only come from a mask over something far more painful. “Goddess help me, I’ve seen bad holo-drama’s with less twists than this!”
“Less than what?” Mandalore snapped this time, his humours obviously hanging on a knife's edge with everything that had happened and everything that was to happen.
“Than everything!” Moonstone laughed, disappearing and reappearing in front of Mandalore. “Than my life? Than Spike’s? We just had someone try and kill the four of us and we’re rushing to give the rest of them commands after these two broke them the last time!”
The rest of her words were lost as she broke into full hysterical giggles, Spike’s own laughter dying as he watched her, her actions the spitting image of...”
“Kids,” Revan shook his head with a soft chuckle of his own, breaking Spike’s train of thought.
“You do realise I’m like, a decade older than you right?” he asked, before cocking his head. “I think?”
“I was still a teenager when you were fighting on Coruscant,” Mandalore’s voice was entirely nancelant as he brought up an assault on the galactic capital.
“I wasn’t even a teenager,” Revan agreed. “Still...kids.”
Spike rolled his eyes, turning back to face Moonstone, but the arcane Alicorn had controlled her laughter by now, the similarities to a life long ago now banished.
“Brace,” Mandalore called out before his jet pack flared brighter, Revan’s joining it a second later, ice turning to steam as they touched down, only for the steam to be banished as Spike arrested his own fall with a single flap of his wings.
“Well, this will either go well...or really shit,” Spike muttered as he looked at the Clan Ordo camp, the warriors within already moving to greet the returned party.
“It will go well,” Mandalore’s voice was strong as he strode forward, possessed of a confidence Spike had rarely seen in anyone. As he approached, Spike could see the ripple move through the oncoming warriors as they drew close enough to see the mask many had thought forever lost, already a cry echoing along the winds before Mandalore came to a halt and drew his sword.
“My people!” he roared, Spike’s helmet flaring into life as a wide-band communication frequency transmitted the words and mask of the Mandalore to every helmet within range. “What was sundered and thought forever lost has been returned to us this day. In the footsteps of Mandalore the Ultimate, of Mandalore the Indomitable, of Mandalore the Conqueror, of Mandalore the First, so a new Mandalore rises once more, not of one clan but of all clans, of our people and history, our culture and ways of life. This I shall defend as Mandalore the Preserver!”
“For Mandalore!” Spike roared, his words almost drowned out by the echoed cry from across the assembled Clan Ordo warriors, many of whom had weapons thrust skywards and Mandalore continued to speak.
“The people of this galaxy think us scattered and broken; a mere shadow of a fractured remnant, such a far cry from our former selves that we might never recover. Together, we shall prove how wrong they are, and this I swear to you! The galaxy will forever remember the Mandalorians!”
This time the cry was louder still, a wordless roar seemingly directed at the galaxy itself, both Spike and Moonstone caught up in it, the sound building until finally Mandalore raised his hand once more, silence falling almost immediately.
“The road before us is long...”
Spike wanted to listen to the words of his Mandalore, but something caught his eye instead, breaking him from his rapt attention as he looked towards the figure slowly moving from the camp.
“Leaving so soon?” Spike asked, a few quick strides putting him beside Revan, not fully in his path, but not fully out of it either.
“This is not my victory,” Revan shook his head. “This belongs to the Mandalorians...to you, Spike.”
“I don't think I will ever get used to you of all people calling me Mandalorian,” Spike let out a laugh he didn’t feel, Revan likewise putting on a smile that didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “What’s going on, Revan?”
Revan’s shoulders sagged a little as he wistfully looked into the sky at nothing in particular.
“There’s something out there, Spike, something I desperately need to remember. Dramath was as powerful a Sith as either of us have ever felt, and yet he was driven into exile, ignominy and death by someone, or something, far greater still. An emissary of another shadowy power cast a spell over Mandalore the Ultimate and caused the Mandalorian Wars that almost brought the Republic to it’s knees, and when Malak and I travelled after them...”
“...that same someone or something twisted the pair of you and sent you back here to finish what the Mandalorian’s had started,” Moonstone finished with a frown of her own. “You don’t think...the Sith survived extinction, do you?”
“Nothing’s impossible. The Mandalorian’s wiped out the Cathar, we all thought that was it for them...then one helped me save the galaxy.”
“And the Holocron from the tomb, you think that’s going to lead you to any survivors?” Spike asked, Revan having the good graces to at least look shocked that Spike had seen him pocket the device, before pulling out the red pyramid.
“Given our history I had thought to keep this from you,” he admitted, pulling the holocron from his backpack. “I didn’t want you to be in a position where you thought to take it from me.”
“I have half a mind to,” Spike admitted as his eyes fell upon the ominous pyramid, the soft red glow pulsing within his minds eye before he tore his gaze away. “You’re playing with fire Revan, but it’s Jedi fire. I’m not part of the order anymore. Just, leave me out of it.”
Spike lapsed into silence for a second, before the crunch of snow heralded a new arrival, all three of them turning to face Segutai, the Mandalorian holding up his hands in mock surrender.
“How’s the conspiracy going? Figured out how to overthrow Mandalore yet?”
Segutai let out a sharp laugh, Spike and Revan exchanging wary looks of their own.
“I would rather the Mandalorian’s not fall under the sway of Jedi, Sith, or any other force users again,” Revan looked at Spike, before extending his hand. “I know we will never be friends, Spike, but it was good to see you again. Keep Canderous safe, rebuild the clans and protect the galaxy and the Republic. If I fail...”
“If I know anything about you, Revan, you won’t,” Spike hesitated for just an instant, before grasping the other man's forearm, embracing as comrades in arms as they had done so many years ago.
For a moment, the pair locked arms, until Revan broke off the embrace, inclining his head towards Moonstone before turning on his heels and striding away in the direction of the clustered ships, Spike watching wordlessly as he first disappeared into the snow, before a ship took flight and rose until it too became nothing more than a spec against the sky, and then finally nothing at all, lost to the void. Finally, Spike broke the silence the trio had lapsed into.
“A true Sith...” he began, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.
“Oh no,” Moonstone cut in, teleporting in front of him, his eyes finally broken from where Revan had last been seen and now fixed on her. “No no no. Absolutely not.”
“What?” Spike asked in genuine confusion.
“We don’t need to get involved with it, if he’s right, that’s the Orders business. The same Order that threw you.
“I thought you quit,” Segutai glanced at Moonstone, his voice neutral and his expression hidden behind his helmet. “Violently.”
“Left, not allowed back, kicked out, you’re splitting hairs and getting off track,” Moonstone snapped, Spike actually taken aback by the sudden fervour in her voice. “Point is not everything in the galaxy is your mess to fix. It isn’t your fight and you are not being drawn into something else to give yet another pound of flesh.”
“Only a pound? Thought Spike was measuring that in tons these days,” Segutai laughed, before his voice also took on a more serious tone. “She does have a point though, Spike. There’s also every chance Revan is talking out of his ass and all he’s going to find is some bones of a long dead asshole. And if not, he can handle himself, he’ll be fine.”
“Last time he went out there he came back and almost destroyed the Republic,” Spike pointed out.
“Last time he already had an army,” Segutai countered, folding his arms. “You’re not a Jedi anymore, Spike. You’re Mandalorian. If yet another fallen Jedi or a full Sith rears their head, the Mandalorians will be there to stand against them, but right now, we look to our own, and equally right now, that includes you.”
Spike looked between the pair, the wind well and truly stolen from under him as any thoughts on the existence of a member of the Sith species, rather than merely their ideology, fled before their withering gazes.
“Alright, I’ll put it out of my mind,” he held his hands up in contrition.
“You realise I’m in your mind, right? That wasn’t even a good lie,” Moonstone’s glare intensified, her unblinking eyes boring into Spike’s until finally, the dragon blinked and looked away.
“We have more important things to be worrying about anyway,” Segutai saved Spike from any further rebukes from the Alicorn. “We’re moving out soon.”
“Back to the village?” Spike asked, leaping at the chance to turn the topic away from the Sith now Moonstone had shown herself so opposed to the thought. “Well, what’s left of it anyway.”
“You didn’t listen to a word Mandalore said, did you?” Segutai shook his head.
“I did...at the beginning,” Spike admitted.
“Of course,” Spike could almost hear Segutai’s eyes rolling. “No, Ordo is my home, it’s Canderous’s home, but it is not Mandalore’s home. We need somewhere that unites us above and beyond any clan.”
“So, Mandalore then?” Spike asked, his mind dredging up all the information he had on the Mandalorian’s official homeworld, always present but never central in any galactic events. “There’s a standing garrison force from the Republic there, on the lookout for, well, for exactly this. They won’t be pleased with us turning up.”
“Precisely, far too many eyes. Mandalore has a far more fitting world in mind for our rebirth.”
Spike’s blood ran cold as Segutai spoke the next word, memories and shame flooding back as the place he knew would come back to haunt him sooner, rather than later, was dropped upon him.
“Dxun.”
***
Spike let out a grunt of exertion as he snapped through a rivet holding the tattered remnants of an armoured plate to the twisted and blackened husk of metal that was only a Basilisk War Droid by the loosest definition. Clan Jendri may have been driven off from their abortive attack, but the raid had been anything but inconsequential. Indeed, if Revan or Spike hadn’t been present, Clan Ordo may have found themselves overwhelmed entirely, pinned down from the air and picked off to the last soldier. Though that fate had been avoided, many warriors had paid the final price, many more injured and requiring extensive recovery or rebuilding.
As he dove into the inner workings of his war droid, Spike still wasn’t sure which way the Basilisk fell, teetering between a repair job and a scrap job.
“Remind me why I keep this thing around?” Spike grunted before yanking his hand back and letting out a particularly colourful expletive, smoke barely obscuring the cascade of sparks that chased him out.
“Because you love to keep pointless distractions around to keep your mind off of any number of things you’d rather not focus on?” Moonstone asked, dryly.
“I know you understand rhetorical questions, maybe one day you could, you know, just not answer one of them, right?” Spike huffed with a small smile.
“Of all the things in the galaxy, I think we both know that that’s not going to happen, don’t we?” Moonstone shot back with a smile of her own, Spike shaking his head in mock exasperation, before sighing and tossing the wrench into a pile of tools.
The steed had been good to him, serving well ever since he’d taken it from the convoy in the war, boasting the perfect blend of savage efficiency and brutal terror, and yet as he looked on it, he saw it for what it truly was; just a machine. Stories of Basilisks dropping like rain and laying waste to armies and cities glorified the droids, elevating them into something more than simple weapons of war, but at their heart, they were just weapons. It was the rider that made the mount, not the mount that made the rider, and with everything Spike was, the mount was fast becoming superfluous to his needs.
“I’m sure Mandalore can always find use for the spare parts,” Moonstone shrugged at Spike’s thought.
“Yeah,” Spike nodded wistfully. It was probably the best thing for it, the other War Droids that Ordo boasted had likewise been damaged in the fight, though to a far lesser degree, and spare parts were all but impossible to come by. But then...
“Don’t tell me you’re growing sentimental for another piece of Mandalorian hardware,” Moonstone laughed. “That’s what, ship, armour, weapons and now the droids?”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Spike rolled his eyes. “I bled hard for this thing, that’s all. Having it ends its life being pulled apart and turned into spare parts feels...wrong, somehow.”
“You hardly need it anymore, even if you could repair it,” Moonstone pointed out.
“I know, I know,” Spike conceded, lapsing into silence for a few moments before a smile crossed his face. “But I may have an idea all the same.”
Turning from the droid, Spike crossed the cargo bay in a few strides, sweeping various spare parts of removed plating from a workbench onto the floor. Once more, Spike’s eyes were alight with the spark of an engineer as he explored just what was possible with his latest idea, engrossed in yet another distraction, trying and failing to keep his mind away from the destination they were speeding towards, and a world he dreaded above almost any other.
***
Spike stood motionless on the ramp of Harmony as the sounds of a thousand different creatures rolled over him, mixing with the hissing rain of a distant storm and the clamouring of dozens of warriors running to and fro. The heat was intense, mixing with the moisture of a planet-wide jungle and ensuring that, though he didn’t sweat, his scales were nevertheless covered in a thin layer of sticky dew-like residue.
It had taken them weeks to get to this point, Rekkiad not so distant from Dxun that the trip itself took long, but reaching the moon from the system's jump-points had been another story altogether. Onderon had been amongst the first of Mandalore the Ultimate’s conquests, and though they had fallen in battle against the united clans, they had fought a brutal war that had not ended with their occupation, instead switching to brutal guerilla tactics, taking the war underground and single handedly keeping hundreds, if not thousands, of Mandalorians from the front line. The world had been staunchly proud of their defiance and maintained a hatred of the Mandalorians, none moreso than the Gifted general Vaklu, now Commander-in-Chief of the world's military might. Though the war may be over and individual Mandalorian’s or even small groups of the scattered clans now plyed the space lanes as mercenaries and bodyguards within the bounds of Republic law, what was being born on Dxun was far above such petty and ignoble individuals, and if they were detected, things would go bad, quickly.
In ones and twos hours or days apart, vessels of Clan Ordo and other clans answering Mandalore's call slipped into the system, skirting close to the Daemon Moon and allowing those within their holds to drop on tongues of fire, or else dropping cargo pods before moving off once more, never lingering long enough to cause any untoward suspicion of what was growing beneath the dense foliage. Finally, the groundwork had been laid for the final piece, Mandalore ordering that Harmony be loaded with the last of the vital cargo before making a run for the world. She would be the largest of the Mandalorian vessels berthed upon the moon, Mandalore scattering his other ships to the void, dispersing his strength so as to not allow any to know their true and growing strength.
The flightplan Mandalore had provided Spike had been precise to say the least, coinciding with a stellar event and a little bit of non-permanent and non-vital sabotage of a monitor satellite and allowing Harmony to slip through sensor-nets unseen by eyes that were focused elsewhere, touching down and almost immediately being covered by camouflage cloth and vast trees felled for just this purpose. In the span of minutes, the entire ship had been hidden from site, likely able to remain hidden from all but the most intense of scrutiny, and if anyone was looking that closely, the presence of Spike’s ship would be the least of anyone’s concerns.
“Another world, another place tainted by the Dark Side,” Moonstone commented, extending a hoof outwards as if to comfort Spike, Spike reaching out at the gesture, appreciating it even as claw passed effortlessly through hoof that wasn’t there.
“Yeah,” Spike finally managed, his voice horse, his throat bone dry despite his attempts to wet it and the planetary conditions.
“We can stay on the ship for a bit longer,” Moonstone suggested. “Mandalore hasn’t given you any orders to the contrary, and even if he had, when have you ever listened to orders you didn’t want to?”
She let out a painfully forced half-laugh that died on her lips, Spike knowing that despite her attempts, she could feel everything he felt, and right now, he wouldn’t have wished that on anyone, not even his worst enemies.
Like Rekkiad, the world was permeated with the stench of the Dark Side of the Force, generations of Sith Lords under the ancient Naddist banner had occupied the moon and the world below before being cast out, their physical taint purged as best the Republic and Jedi could manage, and to any other Jedi, that would have been all, more than enough to set teeth on edge but little more. For Spike and Moonstone though, there was a far more acute, far less ancient presence upon the world, the final part of a triumvirate now forced into a duumvirate.
“We’ve got to face it, Moonstone,” Spike intoned softly, his words halting as he searched for the right ones. “What he...we...what I did. What I was. No point loitering on the ship, sooner or later the past comes due, and sooner or later I have to face up to that. “
Moonstone wordlessly nodded as Spike steeled himself before stepping off of the ramp and striding with purpose into the dense foliage, keeping his wings folded, not wishing to risk drawing attention if he took to the skies. None called after him as he disappeared, all too busy with their own tasks and in seconds, the jungle had swallowed Spike as if he had never been there.
By any conventional means, Spike was hopelessly lost as he loped onwards. The jungles rapid growth made all but the most recent maps useless, the geo-surveyors that the Mandalorian’s had used during the war long since destroyed, removed or taken offline by the world’s harsh conditions ensuring that pinpointing their exact location on the world in relationship to anything else was near impossible, and yet Spike was not guided by technology or foreknowledge, nor even by the force or his innate magical abilities. What drove Spike on was something deeper, more instinctual, drawing upon his draconic nature in a way he wouldn’t have been able to replicate if he had set his mind to the task for a thousand years. Racial memory drove his actions, the beasts of the forest seeming to melt away from him, perhaps recognising the steely presence of an alpha predator on the hunt, perhaps simply not caring for the return of an old beast.
For hours Spike pushed through vegetation so thick that even his lightsaber and axe struggled to cut through them at times, requiring him to hack away until they parted to allow him to continue. Throughout it all he was intensely aware of another method he could use to traverse the forest floor with ease, a tried and tested method, yet he crushed those thoughts whenever they rose, clamping down on them with ever greater strength of will. Never again, not upon this world of all worlds. Finally, long after the moon had passed out of the light of the system’s star, the vegetation abruptly ended, Spike finding exactly what he wished for and dreaded as he looked into the clearing before him, one far from naturally forming as the blackened scar stretched away before him.
“Here we are again,” Spike all but whispered, the first words he had spoken since beginning, Moonstone similarly silent as she merely nodded, her own features distorted by resolution that didn’t completely cover the fear, no, the terror, the magical alicorn felt. Steeling themselves, the pair stepped forward, the jungle left behind as they stepped into the scarred wasteland that marked Spike’s last visit to this world.
In mere seconds, ash caked Spike’s scales, sticking to the moisture that had settled there throughout the day, his scales going from a vibrant purple to a washed out parody of themselves, before finally reduced to grayscale, the ash seeming to seek out its creator, clinging to his legs and tail. For all it’s harrowing disfigurement however, this scar was nothing, merely a prelude for what soon loomed out of the night, Spike stepping through the melted and re-solidified remains of a curtain wall, emerging into what was once the heart of a galaxy-conquering army, now serving as little more than a graveyard of warriors of both creeds, and memories once buried, now disturbed.
“He’s not coming back,” Moonstone whispered, as much to reassure herself as it was aimed at Spike.
“No...no he isn’t,” Spike agreed, his voice matching her tone almost perfectly as he sank to his knees, a cloud of ash billowing outwards as he did so. “He’s never coming back, not again. I can’t guarantee much, but I can tell you I’d rather die than let that happen.”
If he came back, he’d probably be more than happy with those terms
Spike growled at the unbidden thought.
“All our worst moments...all my shames and fuck ups across the decades, they led us here, or they spawned from here. Eres III, Taris...Ranox,” he shuddered at the mere mention of that world but forged on. “Even before all that, Cathar? Maryx Minor? Hell keep it going and you have Coruscant Empress Teta. One long string of events that brought me here. If any of them had changed, I may never have come, or may not have been so influenced by him.”
“And go the other way and Dxun turned you from the path you were on,” Moonstone managed a weak smile. “Meant we weren’t at Malachor, we didn’t go with Revan and Malak into the unknown regions...”
“We killed a world,” Spike muttered, images of Vasdu filling his mind.
“We saved trillions,” Moonstone continued without missing a beat or even acknowledging what Spike had said. “We separated ourselves from the Jedi and now? Now we can actually do some good, even if it’s an...interesting interpretation of the word.”
“Amazing how one world can be the catalyst for so much,” Spike mused, before closing his eyes and opening up his mind to the living force and the arcane ley lines that criss-crossed the area, linking what was with what would be to create the present.
Silence washed over him, before the screams of the dying crashed against him, threatening to drown him, yet he remained resolute, Moonstones presence a constant by his side, the dragon drawing strength from the Alicorn and she in turn drawing strength from him. This was his nexus point, the place he’d been made and unmade. There was strength here as well as hurt, power as well as loss and sorrow.
They did not speak, no words were needed, for this was not about Spike, at least not about the Spike who now knelt in remembrance. This was about the Spike who had fought in the war, the Spike who had lost himself and at the climax, at the very precipice from which there would be no turning back, he had finally seen what he had become and turned away. Such an act took strength, but it did little to soothe the weakness that had allowed him to reach that point, nor provided succour to those on both sides of the conflict who had perished in agony or needlessly to serve his callus war-lust.
Time had no meaning to the pair at that moment, they would have knelt for years if that is what the magic demanded, but even remembrance had to come to an end, Spike woken from his as a hand softly brushed against his shoulder. Cracking his eyes open, dried ash cracking and splintering as he did, Spike turned to see Segutai, the older Mandalorian likewise caked in ash, his helmet held beneath one arm, exposing the skin beneath.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, his voice carrying no judgement or condemnation for what some in the Republic had decried as a war crime after Malachor.
Spike cast his eyes around the compound one more time, the echoes of the past receding as he got to his feet, squinting in the midday sun. With a single nod, Spike turned and strode from the ashen ruins, everything he had done, everything he had suffered had led him here, yet his journey was not over, his story not yet at an end. Only time would tell when that end would come.
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Glad to have you back.
11648870
Good to be back, I don't like unfinished things XD
Anyone using Capital Ships and Mega weapons has a real hard time dealing with Spike, as if they dont stop, distract or divert him, he can pretty much Independance Day anything used, turning its energies back against itself?
11648941
Can you elaborate?
11648941
He's powerful sure, and against ground targets he is one hell of a tough nut, but I wouldn't rate him going up against a capital ship. Even when he grows he's more in the range of smaller escort craft, a heavy turbo laser would hurt. A lot XD
11648968
What I was thinking, is Spike is the equiovalent of a Transformer? Flies around like an attack ship, but can land, then claw bite and burn right at structural parts and energy systems with vastly more precision and destruction?
And as Independance Day showed, if you manage to damage a big weapon just enough, when it fires, that damage means its generally no longer a viably useable weapon, and often times the stress fail and energy release where it shouldnt causes the most unpleasant side effects.
Im not sure if theyve solved th simple problem of getting mud or water into the barrel of a gun, never mind asymetrically collapsing focusing coils in rail guns and fusion cannons?
11648993
I forgot that he could shrink and grow. Thank you.
11648862
okay so more than a few, I honestly don't know a ton about SW except the 'good' space wizards are more asshole-y than they let on and the like barebones outline of the main series and clone wars (which I REALLY need to finish watching, I was rewatching the first couple seasons and I was having trouble finding the place I left off in/when I stopped remembering everything going on from childhood.) honestly that was only a guess based on a quick google search of master Luma's name and I found that she dies during order 66 and Ani was nowhere in sight so it had to be before that, didn't know it was that far tho ^^; Regardless v interesting thus far and I've got a lot to read through yet, I hope Spike gets home at some point, even if it's only to stop Twi going completely insane with Dark power (though if anyone could manage to tame the dark side of the Force, it would probably be Twilight 'If friendship doesn't solve the peoblem use overwhelming force, then offer friendship again' Sparkle.) (I'm also like 75% sure there are sith that weren't evil too but my extended universe knowledge is basically nonexistent beyond CW so I could be entirely wrong)
This makes me want to got back to the beginning and reread the whole god damn story. Epic.
11649444
Glad you think so! If I was an utter sadist and had the time I'd go back and re-write some of the chapters. Have come on a lot and the beginning is patchy to say the least XD
So, it's been a long time... I don't actually remember what happened on this planet. Is this where Spike and Desolation had the kaiju battle?
11650516
No, this is the planet where Corinna died and Spike lost it. Had his first fight with Desolation and ended up ripping out the last of his biological brain to get rid of Desolation for a while. Wasn't Spike's proudest moment by any means
The Kaiju battle came later after Spike regrew his flesh, which included his brain, and took place on Graola which is in the core, so long way away
Wonderful
What chapter does he get his own space ship
I wanna tell you man I don’t do much with the fandom anymore was into it way back in middle school but this story was so f-ing good that I can back 11 years later to reread this master and saw that you had even updated it! Thank you man for doing this awesome crossover story!
I genuinely can't wait for the Homecoming arc but the longer it gets between chapters the more afraid I am that we may not get there.