Title: A Poet's Requiem

Author: AngelsLame

Spoilers: Takes place post-series

Author's Note: This story/poem winds through Spike's mind somewhere between Sunnydale and LA, between saying goodbye to Buffy, and hello to Angel.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Joss' blocks, my building.

Feedback: As Audrey II says…Feed Me!


When he began to perceive, he was enveloped in the dark.

Alone.

Quiet.

He was neither warm nor cold, happy nor sad.

He simply was.

Almost content when memory stirred.

It began slowly, as does all understanding.

He remembered being a man, or rather, wanting to be one.

He remembered his soul.

But he didn't remember it feeling so… barren.

Curious.

A word came to him.

Death.

Yes.

He had died.

He remembered thinking…"I'm going to die."

Had he?

Yet death was his only memory.

And here he…was.

So, was that it?

So simple.

So easy.

So inevitable.

Why had it fascinated him so?

He remembered fascination.

Why had he fought it for so long?

He remembered fighting.

His burgeoning consciousness laughed sardonically.

He turned away from death, to another undiscovered memory.

Something equally fascinating.

Equally profound.

Equally transcendent.

Equally frightening.

But brilliantly radiant.

Acceptance.

And with acceptance stood friendship.

Integrity.

Honor.

Trust.

And duty.

Duty to mankind required.

Duty to comrades admitted.

Duty to others fulfilled.

Destiny fulfilled.

To destiny born.

Destiny of spirit.

Of soul.

Of souls.

Two souls, dancing.

A remembrance of someone…

Of Buffy.

And with Buffy there came more mortal treasures.

Humor.

Softness.

Warmth.

Tenderness.

Approval.

Love.

Love unrequited.

Love proffered.

Love returned.

Joy.

And loss.

Loss many times over.

Loss deeper than the fear that now surrounded him.

And pain.

Pain beyond comprehension.

Even here, where comprehension was everything.

Where the lessons you brought with you from life, provide

Comfort,

Or humiliation.

Rapture,

Or desperation.

Heaven,

Or Hell.