Disclaimer: Neither Spike nor Angel are mine (sob). Joss owns all. Joss is All.
Note: "Fool For Love" and "Darla" turned my world upside down. As it is, I've reached a compromise wherein Angel still remains Spike's sire in name, if no longer in principle.
COLORS
Pink.
Pink is happy, to the general public. Little girls like pink. Pink is cute.
The door swings open, and the great pouf pokes his head out.
"Spike," he says.
Yeah, you ponce. And blood is red. Unless it's running off you while you're in the middle of a monsoon or in the shower: Then it's pink. Drusilla used to love pink roses; pink as the water was when he was done washing her after Angelus had his fun. To him, pink is not cute and it is not happy. To him, it is anything but. Red has its set of bad memories, too, but at least red is honest, is its own individual. Pink is not. Pink is simply red wrapped up in shiny paper and topped with silver ribbons.
"What are you doing here?"
Angel is pink. Deceptively gentle and soulful and remorseful and helpful and sorry, oh yes, so very sorry for all his sins, and only Spike seems to know what is underneath the pretty paper, underneath the happy pink. Only Spike seems to know that Angel still lusts for a good kill, that he gets off on the scent of fresh, human blood, that he dreams of hunting in his sleep and wakes up hard. That he feels guilty for all this, but wishes he doesn't. Wrapped up in a shiny soul and topped with a perfect coif, his sire is.
No. Wrong. Angel is not his sire. Not now, not with all the packaging.
"Did something happen?"
Everyone is pink. Everyone is wrapped up pretty, from Darla to the Slayer, from Charles Manson to Mother Theresa. Because no one wants to see what is real; reality is far too ugly, the truth too painful, and the rules of society call for what is ugly to be made pretty, what is painful made soothing. What is red made pink. The whole world is built on a system of sugar n' spice n' all things nice, and Spike is bloody tired of it. Everybody looks, but they do not see, and he wants to. He wants to see.
"Spike, why the hell aren't you answering me? What're you doing here?"
He wants to unwrap everything and untie the pretty bows to see reality and the truth beneath. He knows he can't do that. He knows as he steps in closer to Angel that he can't unwrap everything. That he can't unwrap Angel and expose the red. So he'll do the next best thing. He'll get rid of the pink and shiny paper and silver ribbons and the red below altogether.
So that there is nothing left but sprinkles of grey.
End.
Let me know what you think. :D