So I know there are a lot of versions out there about the 'final fight' between Oliver and Slade – this is my take on it. Let me know what you think!

It's really short, I know, but I hope it still says everything it needs to.

Leave me a review, pretty please? It's my birthday today. I swear, it's true!

I don't own anything. But if anyone feels like giving me the rights for my birthday, nicely wrapped in a box with a red ribbon on top, feel free.

Sacrifice

He was running, the city at his feet, enveloped in darkness. Jumping onto another rooftop, he made his way back to the lair, his breaths coming quickly.

Having reached the warehouse closest to Verdant, he climbed down the emergency staircase from the roof to street level. Tonight he had busted two small-time drug dealers and a mugger. It wasn't his best night, but going out the last couple of weeks to rid Starling City of any criminal who was unfortunate enough to cross his path was the only thing that kept him sane.

The first week after his mother's death he had spent in complete stupor, being there for Thea, to comfort her, but not able to do much else. Felicity and Digg had meanwhile tried to find out whatever they could, but Slade completely dropped off the grid and it made Oliver sick to think about what horrifying plans for revenge his enemy was hatching. He had Thea practically under house arrest, a swarm of additional security guards at the mansion and in the surrounding grounds.

After that first week, Oliver forced himself to leave the mansion again and take to the streets. Felicity always in his ear, he scoured the streets, back alleys and warehouses to unleash his anger at whoever dared to hurt the people of his city. It kept him occupied and in shape, the only thing he could do at the moment, mentally preparing for Slade's next attack. Leaving him hanging, wondering what the next move would be was Slade particular brand of psychological warfare. He knew that all Oliver wanted was to get this over with – a fight that one of them would not survive.

So every night, the Arrow went out on his hunt, ridding the city of as many criminals as possible, because he knew he would be gone soon. Felicity was even more worried about him than usual, he could feel it. It wasn't only his physical well-being on the line anymore, it was also his psychological and emotional health.

When he first made his way back to the lair, he could tell how relieved Felicity and Diggle were that he was starting to let other people in again. Of course they had been over at the mansion frequently, trying to help him and Thea deal with what happened. But as anyone knows who has ever lost a loved one, there is nothing that can be done. The pain is yours to deal with – yours alone.

Making his ways down the steps to the lair, he immediately sensed something was off. He prepared himself to jump into action, but what he saw in front of him surpassed his worst nightmares. In the middle of their base of operations, in the middle of their safe space, Thea Queen and Felicity Smoak were kneeling, Slade standing behind them, facing Oliver, pointing a gun at the back of their heads.

"Oliver, how nice of you to join us." The man in green felt the stupor of that first week after his mother's death creep back into his bones, along with a sickening, paralyzing fear. Both Thea and Felicity looked up at him, with stony faces. Neither of them was shedding tears. They had been through so much lately that they had become veritable Stoics.

"Choose," Slade said in his deep voice, in which Oliver thought he detected a mocking undertone. Thea let out a dry laugh. "Oh, please. Been there, done that. It's quite unoriginal, you know. Maybe you should get a bit more creative, Slade." The man with the gun laughed, an honest, loud laugh, rolling up from his belly. "Feisty, this one. I can see the family resemblance." His amusement was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I hope I get to kill the blond one, to be honest. Your sister makes such a lovely little mouse to play with. But then again, it's not my choice."

By her statement, Oliver realized that his little sister was not the same person she had been 7 weeks prior in the forest, where their mother was killed. She had been through so much. Her display of feistiness was for his benefit, not for Slade's. It was her way of showing her brother that she would be okay. No matter what happened. And he was grateful for it, in a way, but it didn't change anything. His sister becoming a victim to the decisions he made throughout the years was simply unacceptable.

When Slade had mentioned 'the blonde', Oliver's eyes had immediately found Felicity's, of course. She returned his gaze – not entreatingly, not pleadingly. He rather thought he detected pity. Pity that he, who had been through so much, was put in yet another situation that would inevitably lead to more guilt, more remorse, more self-loathing. The look was just so her. Always worried about him, never about herself.

"Family, Oliver," Felicity reminded him, her voice strong, her eyes clear, her expression determined. "Family above everything. It's always been that way, it will always stay that way. There is no choice to make." Reminded of his own statement to her after the Count had died at his hands, Oliver knew there was indeed no decision to make – neither of these women could die, it was as simple as that. Both of them were family, both of them he loved. And this time he wasn't tied up, this time he would fight to his death to save them. This was his sacrifice to make, not theirs.

It broke his heart that he should receive absolution from two women that were kneeling in front of him, awaiting their deaths to pay for his sins.

In the grand scheme of things, it was all over fairly quickly. There were no hours of exchanging punches, no circling each other, no verbal threats, no recapturing the past, no begging. Oliver launched himself at Slade and they were battling in hand-to-hand combat. The only chance he had against the stronger man was to be quicker – but he only managed to stay ahead of his moves for a couple of seconds until an iron punch hit him in the ribs and sent him flying across the room, crashing down on top of Felicity's desk, which broke under his weight, along with all of her IT equipment.

Slade was quickly losing control, his anger getting the better of him. He had drawn his sword and was standing over Oliver now, who was only half-conscious and in too much pain to get up. He doubted there was a rib in his body not yet broken. "Good," he thought to himself. "If Slade loses himself in his anger, he will kill me. Thea and Felicity will be safe. He won't kill them when I'm gone. He knows his revenge ends with my death." Slade raised his sword.

A shot resounded in the lair. The darkness Oliver was expecting never came. Slade Wilson had stopped mid-movement, his sword raised high in the air. His eyes were enlarged in surprise, his legs buckled, he went to his knees and, finally, his upper body toppled over, his head landing just inches from Oliver on the ground. The form of Felicity appeared behind the falling man, like a statue, the gun still in her hands, still pointed where Deathstroke had just stood seconds before. She looked stunned.

"Felicity?" Thea softly spoke her name and it brought her back from wherever she had been. The blonde lowered her hands, so that the gun was now hanging limply at her side. Taking a few steps, she went over to the man she had just killed. The back of his head was leaking blood from the bullet hole. As if on an afterthought, Felicity raised the gun and fired another three shots into his head.

He should've known better than to destroy her computers. Or mess with her family.