Remade
By comlodge
Disclaimer: Not mine. But we are allowed to play with them and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
I don't just live in the night. I live in the shadows of the night. I live where the monsters are. I am a monster. The man I was, he was killed. Drusilla took his mortal life. Angelus killed his mortal shame and mores and shaped a monster. I killed whatever was left of him when the demon entered his body.
It was an avulsion of spirit, of life's lessons, of social mores and conventions drummed into him since birth. I killed those, killed him and replaced it with me, Spike. I didn't want to be the milk-sop any longer, a pillock tied to a woman's skirts. I was free to be whatever I wanted, to be the bully; to be in charge; to be feared and never, ever be ridiculed by another human, again.
I remade myself. I haunted the docks, the factories, the work houses. I went to the pubs and the whore houses and studied the lowlife inhabiting it. Before I ate it. I stole their clothes, their accent, their words, their attitudes. I shed the costume and constrictions of class and civility. After all what need is there for such things when I could want, take, have.
My world was Drusilla, my dark princess, my wicked, black plum and I was her darling, deadly boy. Heavy emphasis on the deadly. We cut a swathe, a deadly, bloody path of destruction for a hundred plus years. And I loved it. Loved the freedom and the journey. Until I came here. To Sunnyhell and the beginning of my downfall.
Do you know what it is like to be unmade? I do. I was a century in the making and a tiny little piece of plastic and wires has caused a second avulsion of spirit. My demon is so confused. I think, if I had been any younger I would have gone mad trying to appease it in those first months. Can't believe that stupid watcher thought I'd want to join the team, back when he got all demony. God I'd barely got myself under control enough to stop the zapping.
I mean half the time I was as balmy as Dru. How does one cope with suddenly not being able to be what you are supposed to be? Combine that with the hunger, hunger so bad your guts are clenched into a tight, hard and painful little ball and the demon is literally screaming in your head, making you try to bite, knowing you're going to crash to your knees in brain destroying agony, precious blood running from eyes, nose and ears. Hunger like that drives you insane.
So you almost literally crawl on your hands and knees to your fucking enemy to save you, at least help you survive a bit longer. God if I'd known I could still kill demons, things might have been different. Just my luck no bastard upset me enough to have a go. And the stupid pillock thinks I'm just going to forget habits,120 something years in the making. Fuck, let alone how they treated me when I went to them for aforementioned help.
I said I live in the shadows of the night. For a time I was living in the shadows of the shadows. I was afraid. Me! William the Bloody, afraid for his existence. I was helpless. Again! I was at the mercy of humans. Happy meals! And he wanted me to play nice with his children. All I ever wanted out of unlife was a good fight. Now I am being remade against my will. I've hung around the bloody slayer and she has bewitched me. I can't get her out of my head.
…Fin…
