Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Just a little something I felt like writing . . . I'm not planning on continuing it, but please review and tell me what you think!
Love Hurts
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"Love hurts."
It was a common phrase, echoed throughout literature and music, and pretty much everything else; a phrase he'd heard all his life.
When he first saw Cecily, he wrote it all off as false; the bliss he lived in for two days was anything but painful.
She learned of his effulgent love, and then her words and expressions smashed his cloud of ignorant bliss until there was nothing but a heavy weight pulling at his heart.
He died and came back, and it still hurt.
Drusilla, his black goddess, kissed away the pain, healed the scars.
The first years were sweet torture, because she loved him but was not his.
And then she was all his; for a century he couldn't have asked for anything more than the insane, bloodthirsty, beautiful, vampire.
But she hurt him too, leaving her own scars that went so much deeper then Cecily's.
Those were the worst years; the ones after Drusilla left him. The ones when he had no princess, and he couldn't distract himself by sinking into the world of blood and murder. Hell couldn't be any worse, but his intruding instincts kicked in every time he almost got killed.
But slowly, things are getting better, and he is seeing a hint of sunlight for the first time in years.
The crypt doors burst open, and the blonde slayer barges in with hasty steps. "Spike!" She demands, forcing him against the wall and holding him there. "I need information."
He grins.
She kicks.
He laughs and receives a punch.
Love hurts, but it feels so, so good.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
AN: Just a little something I felt like writing . . . I'm not planning on continuing it, but please review and tell me what you think!
Love Hurts
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Love hurts."
It was a common phrase, echoed throughout literature and music, and pretty much everything else; a phrase he'd heard all his life.
When he first saw Cecily, he wrote it all off as false; the bliss he lived in for two days was anything but painful.
She learned of his effulgent love, and then her words and expressions smashed his cloud of ignorant bliss until there was nothing but a heavy weight pulling at his heart.
He died and came back, and it still hurt.
Drusilla, his black goddess, kissed away the pain, healed the scars.
The first years were sweet torture, because she loved him but was not his.
And then she was all his; for a century he couldn't have asked for anything more than the insane, bloodthirsty, beautiful, vampire.
But she hurt him too, leaving her own scars that went so much deeper then Cecily's.
Those were the worst years; the ones after Drusilla left him. The ones when he had no princess, and he couldn't distract himself by sinking into the world of blood and murder. Hell couldn't be any worse, but his intruding instincts kicked in every time he almost got killed.
But slowly, things are getting better, and he is seeing a hint of sunlight for the first time in years.
The crypt doors burst open, and the blonde slayer barges in with hasty steps. "Spike!" She demands, forcing him against the wall and holding him there. "I need information."
He grins.
She kicks.
He laughs and receives a punch.
Love hurts, but it feels so, so good.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
