Post by Casi on Jun 7, 2007 12:39:28 GMT 10
Title: Lost
Rating: R for subject matter
Disclaimer: I own all of this and make tons of money...oh wait. Damn....I really don't.
Synopsis: Spike reflects on his moment with Buffy in the bathroom
Spike had never felt so lost in his entire life. What had he done…what had he done… He looked up at the Summers house where the light in the bathroom still shone feebly. What had he done? The stink of her fear was still so heavy on him it was nearly choking. She’d been afraid of him before, but never like this. Never like she thought she might actually lose something. She’d thought before that he might kill her…and even that hadn’t scared her like this. What had he done?
He had to get away from there, but where could he go? Home maybe…to his crypt. He thought, pointlessly, of Dru. God if she could see him now. See what he’d become. She’d been right of course…right all along. Even she couldn’t help him now. There was nothing left to help. He hadn’t even been able to…
His mind shrank from it. What had he been doing? What did he think it would have accomplished? He felt rooted to the spot, staring up at that small square of light, wondering if maybe she was crying. He felt absurdly guilty for that. He hated it when she cried. And then he gave himself a good shake, both mentally and physically. He had to get out of here. If nothing else, once her little scoobies found out what he’d done…almost done, he corrected himself…they’d be out with weapons. Chip or no, he doubted they’d show him any mercy.
Spike stumbled blindly away, bumping into small, manicured trees. He’d seen their cousins once. Dru had taken him to some wild forest, growing, it seemed, to spite the urbanization creeping towards its borders. He’d never seen such a strong, wild place. It had made him feel free. But now he supposed he knew how these smaller, more timid trees felt. They were cut off from everything they were supposed to be. They were chained by concrete and fit for little else than momentary admiration and dog piss. Yes…that was exactly how he felt.
Leaning against one of them for support, he felt it shudder under his weight, but hold. Perhaps it felt the companionship as well, and wanted to offer whatever it had to give. Spike had cried often as a man…but only rarely as a Vampire. He’d cried for Dru, oh yes he had. Buckets for Dru. Both when she left him and when he had, at last, left her. For Buffy… Spike felt as if he’d spent his whole life crying over Buffy. What was it in her that made him so much less than he had been? He’d been a monster for so long. It was what he was good at now. And yet, all she had to do was look at him, and he found himself writing snippets of poems about the moonlight in her hair. And then she had left too. Given herself up in that pointless, self sacrificing way of humans. And, sod it all, he hadn’t blamed her. He’d have done it himself if he’d been able. What had she done to him? Had she made him human… Had she turned him into a man when he wasn’t looking?
But no, he knew it wasn’t that. The man had no place in him. He could play nice, and fight the good fight, and love the slayer…but he couldn’t be a man for her. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be a man for her. And try he had. But it had all been for nothing. What had he done…
Spike stumbled on, down darkened roads, avoiding all forms of light. His mind traced the same circles over and over again, always returning to the simple question, “What have I done?” But it was pointless to keep asking himself that when he knew what he had done, but was so unwilling to admit it. His heart wouldn’t let him realize the magnitude of what he had done. He just couldn’t face it. He…who had ripped the throats out of children…who had bathed in blood…who had reveled in carnage for two hundred years… He simply could not face what he had almost done to the woman he loved. Whatever shred of humanity lived within him would let him. It was too afraid. And the much more powerful demon, who had been his companion for so many years, argued into his other ear…why hadn’t he been able to?
But that thought caused his entire body to rack in a set of shocked spasms, gasping for breath that he did not need. He couldn’t ask himself that question. Not yet. He had to get home. He would feel better if he could just get home. And maybe…after he’d thought things through…just maybe he’d take a little walk. He’d walk out to greet the dawn. Yes, he might do that… He’d tried to kill himself because of Dru…but he hadn’t really meant it. Maybe this time he did…he just didn’t know yet. He had to get home.
The cemetery loomed up in his vision and he sank against the gate, arms wrapped protectively around himself as though he were cold, but his face hardened. He felt stronger here. He’d be able to think here. Spike rushed to his crypt and threw the door open.
He couldn’t keep the sight of the bathroom out of his mind. It kept rushing back to him. He could still feel her struggling underneath of him. He could hear her crying underlying all his thoughts. Spike strode across the room and grabbed a bottle of one of his stronger drinks and a glass. He filled it nearly to the brim and set the bottle down, taking a long drink. The glass felt cool under his fingers, like the tile of that floor. He could hear her screaming his name in terror and begging him to stop. She’d said please…
The glass shattered in his hand, leaving tiny cuts on his fingers. He stared at his hand as though it did not belong to him for a long moment and then slowly lowered it. Each movement seemed to be taking intense effort on his part.
A voice broke into his revere. “Uh…Knock knock…?” Clem. He stood just outside the crypt. Spike knew he couldn’t ignore him as he hadn’t bothered to attempt closing the door. He wasn’t sure if it could be closed or not at the moment, with the way he had come flying in. Such trivial nonsense…
“I was just in the neighborhood, so I though…you know…” Clem said hesitantly, stepping into the room. Spike knew he must look a right sight: so clearly on edge, broken glass everywhere, with blood dribbling slowly between his fingers. He doubted the bleeding was visible yet, but he knew Clem could probably smell it. He turned his eyes to the floor sullenly, not wanting his friend to see his guilt written on his face.
“…There’s a Nightrider marathon on the TV, so, uh…” he shook a bucket of chicken he was holding in one hand enticingly. “I got wings!”
But Spike wasn’t listening. His mind was traveling in it’s well worn circle.
“What have I done?” he said to himself shakily. Clem didn’t answer, clearly not knowing exactly what he was expected to say. Spike didn’t look at him, but stared fixedly at a spot on the floor and then shook his head in a bemused sort of way. He really did feel stronger her. “Why didn’t I do it?” he asked instead. His heart still shrank from the idea, but here…here he felt like the monster he was supposed to be. No more bright rooms…no more playing house with the slayer. Here, he was a demon, and he felt suddenly fortified. He looked up at the ceiling, clearly at a loss. “What has she done to me?”
“She…done who?” Clem asked, confused. Spike waved his hand dismissively at him, acknowledging his presence for the first time, and Clem thought he knew what the trouble was. “Ohh…the Slayer huh? Gosh.” He shook his head in a sympathetic way. “She break up with you again?”
Spike bit back the strong taste of disgust in his mouth. “We were never together. Not really. She’d never lower herself that far.” He wasn’t sure if the sudden sense of loathing was meant to be directed at her, or at himself.
Clem took a step forward, intending to do everything he could. It was his job as one of Spike’s only demon friends, after all. “She’s a sweet girl, Spike, but hey. Whew. Issues.” He grinned encouragingly at Spike who tossed him a wry grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He suddenly found himself both wishing Clem would go and feeling entirely grateful that he was there.
“And no wonder,” Clem continued, “With the whole coming back from the grave and whatnot. Hey, I had this cousin who got resurrected by some kooky shaman,” he chuckled at the memory, “Whoo-boy! Was that a mess!” He looked at Spike hopefully, but this time Spike did not return his attempts at warmth. Instead, he seemed to be sinking.
“Why do I feel this way?” he asked, suddenly desperate.
Clem shrugged. “Love’s a funny thing.”
“Is that what this is?” He looked at Clem as though he might hold all the answers to the universe. Clem, for his part, merely looked confused and uncertain. “I can feel it,” Spike continued, leaping from thought to thought in his mind, “Squirming in my head.” He put his hand to his head.
“Love?” Clem asked, bewildered.
“The chip… Gnawing bits and chunks.” Spike put his fingers against his skull as though he might dig it out. It all seemed to make sense now. He finally had a reason. It wasn’t him at all…it was the chip. It had all started with the chip. None of this would have happened if not for the chip. A huge cloud of guilt lifted off his shoulders, leaving behind only a smoldering anger, and the inescapable feelings of rejection that he had been dealing with for so long now.
“Uh…maybe a wet cloth?” Clem suggested was not exactly edging towards the door, but was certainly ready to flee should the occasion merit it. Spike couldn’t blame him. Being trapped in a crypt with what he was sure appeared to be a crazy vampire was not something that just anyone was willing to do.
“You know, everything used to be so clear. Slayer. Vampire. Vampire kills Slayer, sucks her dry, picks his teeth with her bones. It's always been that way. I've tasted the life of two Slayers. But with Buffy...” The pain came rushing back and Spike grimaced under the weight of it. “It isn’t supposed to be this way,” he finished desperately. He thought of Dru again…as though she were the ghost of the demon he used to be. She was a part of that monster…and he could never have that back.
Spike grabbed at a random piece of furniture, not even stopping to look at it, and shoved it over with all his vampire strength. The sound of the accompanying crash and splintering wood relieved a sliver of his tension, but no where near enough. “It's the chip! Steel and wires and silicon,” he burst out angrily. He didn’t know if Clem was looking at him or not. He hoped he wasn’t…the shame he felt was too great. Spike sighed heavily.
“It won’t let me be a monster,” he said quietly, seeing her staring at him. Ask me again why I can never love you. “And I can’t be a man. I’m nothing.”
Clem seemed to bolster himself for a fresh attempt. “Hey. Come on now, Mr. Negative. You never know what's just around the corner. Things change.”
Spike was quiet for a moment before responding. “Yeah, they do,” he said at last. And then, rather suddenly, something occurred to him. Things change… He laughed a truly mirthless laugh…a nasty laugh, filled with self hatred and turned his grim visage towards his friend…who looked as though he knew how completely helpless in this situation. Things change…
“If you make them,” Spike said with conviction.
Rating: R for subject matter
Disclaimer: I own all of this and make tons of money...oh wait. Damn....I really don't.
Synopsis: Spike reflects on his moment with Buffy in the bathroom
Spike had never felt so lost in his entire life. What had he done…what had he done… He looked up at the Summers house where the light in the bathroom still shone feebly. What had he done? The stink of her fear was still so heavy on him it was nearly choking. She’d been afraid of him before, but never like this. Never like she thought she might actually lose something. She’d thought before that he might kill her…and even that hadn’t scared her like this. What had he done?
He had to get away from there, but where could he go? Home maybe…to his crypt. He thought, pointlessly, of Dru. God if she could see him now. See what he’d become. She’d been right of course…right all along. Even she couldn’t help him now. There was nothing left to help. He hadn’t even been able to…
His mind shrank from it. What had he been doing? What did he think it would have accomplished? He felt rooted to the spot, staring up at that small square of light, wondering if maybe she was crying. He felt absurdly guilty for that. He hated it when she cried. And then he gave himself a good shake, both mentally and physically. He had to get out of here. If nothing else, once her little scoobies found out what he’d done…almost done, he corrected himself…they’d be out with weapons. Chip or no, he doubted they’d show him any mercy.
Spike stumbled blindly away, bumping into small, manicured trees. He’d seen their cousins once. Dru had taken him to some wild forest, growing, it seemed, to spite the urbanization creeping towards its borders. He’d never seen such a strong, wild place. It had made him feel free. But now he supposed he knew how these smaller, more timid trees felt. They were cut off from everything they were supposed to be. They were chained by concrete and fit for little else than momentary admiration and dog piss. Yes…that was exactly how he felt.
Leaning against one of them for support, he felt it shudder under his weight, but hold. Perhaps it felt the companionship as well, and wanted to offer whatever it had to give. Spike had cried often as a man…but only rarely as a Vampire. He’d cried for Dru, oh yes he had. Buckets for Dru. Both when she left him and when he had, at last, left her. For Buffy… Spike felt as if he’d spent his whole life crying over Buffy. What was it in her that made him so much less than he had been? He’d been a monster for so long. It was what he was good at now. And yet, all she had to do was look at him, and he found himself writing snippets of poems about the moonlight in her hair. And then she had left too. Given herself up in that pointless, self sacrificing way of humans. And, sod it all, he hadn’t blamed her. He’d have done it himself if he’d been able. What had she done to him? Had she made him human… Had she turned him into a man when he wasn’t looking?
But no, he knew it wasn’t that. The man had no place in him. He could play nice, and fight the good fight, and love the slayer…but he couldn’t be a man for her. No matter how hard he tried, he could never be a man for her. And try he had. But it had all been for nothing. What had he done…
Spike stumbled on, down darkened roads, avoiding all forms of light. His mind traced the same circles over and over again, always returning to the simple question, “What have I done?” But it was pointless to keep asking himself that when he knew what he had done, but was so unwilling to admit it. His heart wouldn’t let him realize the magnitude of what he had done. He just couldn’t face it. He…who had ripped the throats out of children…who had bathed in blood…who had reveled in carnage for two hundred years… He simply could not face what he had almost done to the woman he loved. Whatever shred of humanity lived within him would let him. It was too afraid. And the much more powerful demon, who had been his companion for so many years, argued into his other ear…why hadn’t he been able to?
But that thought caused his entire body to rack in a set of shocked spasms, gasping for breath that he did not need. He couldn’t ask himself that question. Not yet. He had to get home. He would feel better if he could just get home. And maybe…after he’d thought things through…just maybe he’d take a little walk. He’d walk out to greet the dawn. Yes, he might do that… He’d tried to kill himself because of Dru…but he hadn’t really meant it. Maybe this time he did…he just didn’t know yet. He had to get home.
The cemetery loomed up in his vision and he sank against the gate, arms wrapped protectively around himself as though he were cold, but his face hardened. He felt stronger here. He’d be able to think here. Spike rushed to his crypt and threw the door open.
He couldn’t keep the sight of the bathroom out of his mind. It kept rushing back to him. He could still feel her struggling underneath of him. He could hear her crying underlying all his thoughts. Spike strode across the room and grabbed a bottle of one of his stronger drinks and a glass. He filled it nearly to the brim and set the bottle down, taking a long drink. The glass felt cool under his fingers, like the tile of that floor. He could hear her screaming his name in terror and begging him to stop. She’d said please…
The glass shattered in his hand, leaving tiny cuts on his fingers. He stared at his hand as though it did not belong to him for a long moment and then slowly lowered it. Each movement seemed to be taking intense effort on his part.
A voice broke into his revere. “Uh…Knock knock…?” Clem. He stood just outside the crypt. Spike knew he couldn’t ignore him as he hadn’t bothered to attempt closing the door. He wasn’t sure if it could be closed or not at the moment, with the way he had come flying in. Such trivial nonsense…
“I was just in the neighborhood, so I though…you know…” Clem said hesitantly, stepping into the room. Spike knew he must look a right sight: so clearly on edge, broken glass everywhere, with blood dribbling slowly between his fingers. He doubted the bleeding was visible yet, but he knew Clem could probably smell it. He turned his eyes to the floor sullenly, not wanting his friend to see his guilt written on his face.
“…There’s a Nightrider marathon on the TV, so, uh…” he shook a bucket of chicken he was holding in one hand enticingly. “I got wings!”
But Spike wasn’t listening. His mind was traveling in it’s well worn circle.
“What have I done?” he said to himself shakily. Clem didn’t answer, clearly not knowing exactly what he was expected to say. Spike didn’t look at him, but stared fixedly at a spot on the floor and then shook his head in a bemused sort of way. He really did feel stronger her. “Why didn’t I do it?” he asked instead. His heart still shrank from the idea, but here…here he felt like the monster he was supposed to be. No more bright rooms…no more playing house with the slayer. Here, he was a demon, and he felt suddenly fortified. He looked up at the ceiling, clearly at a loss. “What has she done to me?”
“She…done who?” Clem asked, confused. Spike waved his hand dismissively at him, acknowledging his presence for the first time, and Clem thought he knew what the trouble was. “Ohh…the Slayer huh? Gosh.” He shook his head in a sympathetic way. “She break up with you again?”
Spike bit back the strong taste of disgust in his mouth. “We were never together. Not really. She’d never lower herself that far.” He wasn’t sure if the sudden sense of loathing was meant to be directed at her, or at himself.
Clem took a step forward, intending to do everything he could. It was his job as one of Spike’s only demon friends, after all. “She’s a sweet girl, Spike, but hey. Whew. Issues.” He grinned encouragingly at Spike who tossed him a wry grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He suddenly found himself both wishing Clem would go and feeling entirely grateful that he was there.
“And no wonder,” Clem continued, “With the whole coming back from the grave and whatnot. Hey, I had this cousin who got resurrected by some kooky shaman,” he chuckled at the memory, “Whoo-boy! Was that a mess!” He looked at Spike hopefully, but this time Spike did not return his attempts at warmth. Instead, he seemed to be sinking.
“Why do I feel this way?” he asked, suddenly desperate.
Clem shrugged. “Love’s a funny thing.”
“Is that what this is?” He looked at Clem as though he might hold all the answers to the universe. Clem, for his part, merely looked confused and uncertain. “I can feel it,” Spike continued, leaping from thought to thought in his mind, “Squirming in my head.” He put his hand to his head.
“Love?” Clem asked, bewildered.
“The chip… Gnawing bits and chunks.” Spike put his fingers against his skull as though he might dig it out. It all seemed to make sense now. He finally had a reason. It wasn’t him at all…it was the chip. It had all started with the chip. None of this would have happened if not for the chip. A huge cloud of guilt lifted off his shoulders, leaving behind only a smoldering anger, and the inescapable feelings of rejection that he had been dealing with for so long now.
“Uh…maybe a wet cloth?” Clem suggested was not exactly edging towards the door, but was certainly ready to flee should the occasion merit it. Spike couldn’t blame him. Being trapped in a crypt with what he was sure appeared to be a crazy vampire was not something that just anyone was willing to do.
“You know, everything used to be so clear. Slayer. Vampire. Vampire kills Slayer, sucks her dry, picks his teeth with her bones. It's always been that way. I've tasted the life of two Slayers. But with Buffy...” The pain came rushing back and Spike grimaced under the weight of it. “It isn’t supposed to be this way,” he finished desperately. He thought of Dru again…as though she were the ghost of the demon he used to be. She was a part of that monster…and he could never have that back.
Spike grabbed at a random piece of furniture, not even stopping to look at it, and shoved it over with all his vampire strength. The sound of the accompanying crash and splintering wood relieved a sliver of his tension, but no where near enough. “It's the chip! Steel and wires and silicon,” he burst out angrily. He didn’t know if Clem was looking at him or not. He hoped he wasn’t…the shame he felt was too great. Spike sighed heavily.
“It won’t let me be a monster,” he said quietly, seeing her staring at him. Ask me again why I can never love you. “And I can’t be a man. I’m nothing.”
Clem seemed to bolster himself for a fresh attempt. “Hey. Come on now, Mr. Negative. You never know what's just around the corner. Things change.”
Spike was quiet for a moment before responding. “Yeah, they do,” he said at last. And then, rather suddenly, something occurred to him. Things change… He laughed a truly mirthless laugh…a nasty laugh, filled with self hatred and turned his grim visage towards his friend…who looked as though he knew how completely helpless in this situation. Things change…
“If you make them,” Spike said with conviction.