Title: Disappear
Summary: Spike finally gets what's coming to him.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Archive: ff.net
Comments: I saw another passel of B/S (a.k.a. bullshit) fics, which got me all grumpy, and then I read some episode summaries of recent Buffy eps. Needless to say, I was extremely upset, and decided I'd take matters into my own hands and kill the bastard off. Is there no one else as violently opposed to this sickening union as I am? If you are, drop me a note in the form of a review so I can be assured I'm not the only one!
Feedback: kimmie@e-mailanywhere.com
Bow down before the one you serve
You're going to get what you deserve (4X)
Head like a hole
Black as your soul
I'd rather die
Than give you control
"Head Like a Hole" NIN
The thin silhouette was framed against the sky. A pale, round moon hung in the darkness, casting a glowing illumination over the figure. Upon close inspection, one could see that the shape was a man holding a cigarette between two fingers, a bottle held in the other hand. Every now and then, switching off, he'd take a swig from the bottle, and then a drag of the cigarette. His shoulders slumped slightly, as though a heavy burden hung from them. Finally, the man walked into the graveyard, where he walked drunkenly between headstones. A misplaced step brought him lurching into a stone carving. The man looked up at it, his face curling into a sneer. It was a marble angel, or all things. Taking up the bottle, he slammed it into the face of the carving. "Take that, you bloody sod." The man pushed off of the statue, wobbling on his own legs.
He threw the cigarette down, stomping it into the turf with the toe of his boot. "What have you ever done for her, huh? Why the hell is she so set on you, damn it? Soft-hearted bastard." He muttered, tongue thick with alcohol.
Spike tried to resume his pace, but tripped over a vase of flowers lying near a headstone. He lay where he'd fallen, unconscious. Spike woke to a burning smell. It had grown painfully hot, and he had a throbbing headache. Slowly, he lifted his head, looking around. The entire cemetery was bathed in warm light. The soft glow of sunshine, Spike realized painfully. "Bloody hell!" He cried, leaping to his feet as he ran to the crypt.
By the time he'd reached it and shut the door behind him with a slam, his hands had been severely burned, and flesh was hanging from the vicious-looking wounds. His face felt blistered by the heat. Spike collapsed on the bed, and with a groan of pain, again slipped into blackness.
The sound of the heavy crypt door sliding open awakened him later. The vampire was surprised to see moonlight filtering in from the open door. He'd been out a long time. "What the hell do you want?" Spike asked, groggily.
The pain was overpowering, and Spike knew he looked like hell. "Spike. You look like hell? Get caught out in the sun again, I guess." Spike couldn't fool himself.
He knew there wasn't a trace of sympathy or remorse in Buffy's scornful voice. "How ever did you manage to figure all of that out by yourself?" He growled, trying to stand.
"Don't bother. I only came to warn you that Dru's back in town." Spike raised his head to peer at Buffy through his half-closed eyes.
They hurt too much, though, to open. A crust coated them, making it nearly impossible to open them fully. This, though, he could make himself believe was her way of showing how she cared. "Why would you tell me that?" He was careful to make his voice stay calm.
"Because Giles thought you could do some hunting. I'm going to check out the docks, and he said you should take the graveyard and the Bronze. But I can see-" Spike heard the barely suppressed snort, "That you're in no shape to help at all. Can you even walk?" She morbidly added.
"Get the hell out of here, Slayer." Spike told her furiously.
"No problem. Like I'd want to sit around here and smell that." Buffy said, rolling her eyes.
"Why me?" Spike moaned to the ceiling when she was gone. "What has that sod Peaches got that I haven't? I took Dru from him, sometimes. Am I not the ladies man anymore?"
Spike wanted to kill something. He felt like shit, and he knew he sounded pathetic. How Dru would laugh if she saw him now. "I've got to get this damned thing out of my brain!" Spike cried, trying to rise from the bed.
He fell back; uttering curses strung so closely together that one was unintelligible from the next. Grabbing a half-empty bottle of vodka from his bedside table, he poured it over the worst of the wounds, clamping his teeth together to keep from screaming like a woman. Determinedly, Spike tried again to walk from his bed. He managed a tottering few steps, before gracelessly slamming into the cold cement floor. "Oh crap." He managed to get out.
Spike turned over onto his back, preparing to rise. His exertions had exhausted his weakened body, and he struggled to sit up. The door again opened. "Will you get out of my bloody sight? I told you before-" The words stopped as Dru came in, seeming to glow with the radiance she'd always possessed.
Before Spike could choke something out, Dru walked over to him. "Spikey? What are you doing down there on the floor? You look like a little pest."
"Just what I needed to hear." He groaned, and struggled to stand.
Finally, Spike managed to pull himself up to kneel, and then to stand. "Where did you come from? And what in the hell brought you here?" Dru's face softened into a pout.
"You don't call me 'Pet' anymore." She pointed out, crossing her translucent arms over her chest.
"No. I suppose I stopped doing that after you left me." Spike could see her out of one eye.
"Are you going to have hard feelings, when I bring you some very good news? I've heard much good news, and I am so happy I want to dance. I want to dance in the blood of a thousand screaming people, like we used to. Do you remember, my Spike?" Dru's eyes glazed over as she remembered the things they'd done together, the times they'd shared.
"Of course. But I can't do much of that anymore, you know that." Spike tried to get her to come to a point.
"Now you can. I have a smart little human who'll do anything I ask. And I asked him to take out that naughty little chip. What do you say, Spike? Don't you want to play with me again?" Spike pretended to consider this.
His heart glowed with the warmth of darkness. He remembered that feeling well. "I've been waiting to hear that forever, Pet. Bring him in." Dru smiled at him, her dark eyes flashing.
She turned, and Spike felt things slow down. Her dark, shining hair fell over her white shoulders. Dru made a beautiful picture, just like she used to. Spike had little time to react as the goons surrounded him. He couldn't have done much, anyway. Spike looked at Drusilla, wondering what was going on. "I'm sorry, Spike. You're such a naughty boy, going against me. I can't have you running about helping the Slayer. You understand, my Spike?" Spike couldn't respond.
The vampires, their faces leering, their eyes glowing in anticipation pounced. Spike hardly noticed as they beat his aching body. His last sight was Dru, leaning over, concerned. "No! Let me." Her voice sounded so far away.
Spike was acutely aware that Dru now held a stake in her hand. "Dru-" his words were cut off as she stabbed the sharp wood into his chest.
"Goodbye, love." Dru dropped the stake as though it were a cross.
"Get out of here! Leave us." Dru's voice shook, and she rocked back and forth in the pile of ash, sweeping it up into her skirt.
"What shall we do, Mistress?" One of the vampires asked.
"Find the Slayer. She won't live to see the sunrise, will she, Spikey?" Dru crooned to the ashes she held.
The crypt door shut, and Dru sang to her love, cradling what was left of him in her hands.
Summary: Spike finally gets what's coming to him.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Archive: ff.net
Comments: I saw another passel of B/S (a.k.a. bullshit) fics, which got me all grumpy, and then I read some episode summaries of recent Buffy eps. Needless to say, I was extremely upset, and decided I'd take matters into my own hands and kill the bastard off. Is there no one else as violently opposed to this sickening union as I am? If you are, drop me a note in the form of a review so I can be assured I'm not the only one!
Feedback: kimmie@e-mailanywhere.com
Bow down before the one you serve
You're going to get what you deserve (4X)
Head like a hole
Black as your soul
I'd rather die
Than give you control
"Head Like a Hole" NIN
The thin silhouette was framed against the sky. A pale, round moon hung in the darkness, casting a glowing illumination over the figure. Upon close inspection, one could see that the shape was a man holding a cigarette between two fingers, a bottle held in the other hand. Every now and then, switching off, he'd take a swig from the bottle, and then a drag of the cigarette. His shoulders slumped slightly, as though a heavy burden hung from them. Finally, the man walked into the graveyard, where he walked drunkenly between headstones. A misplaced step brought him lurching into a stone carving. The man looked up at it, his face curling into a sneer. It was a marble angel, or all things. Taking up the bottle, he slammed it into the face of the carving. "Take that, you bloody sod." The man pushed off of the statue, wobbling on his own legs.
He threw the cigarette down, stomping it into the turf with the toe of his boot. "What have you ever done for her, huh? Why the hell is she so set on you, damn it? Soft-hearted bastard." He muttered, tongue thick with alcohol.
Spike tried to resume his pace, but tripped over a vase of flowers lying near a headstone. He lay where he'd fallen, unconscious. Spike woke to a burning smell. It had grown painfully hot, and he had a throbbing headache. Slowly, he lifted his head, looking around. The entire cemetery was bathed in warm light. The soft glow of sunshine, Spike realized painfully. "Bloody hell!" He cried, leaping to his feet as he ran to the crypt.
By the time he'd reached it and shut the door behind him with a slam, his hands had been severely burned, and flesh was hanging from the vicious-looking wounds. His face felt blistered by the heat. Spike collapsed on the bed, and with a groan of pain, again slipped into blackness.
The sound of the heavy crypt door sliding open awakened him later. The vampire was surprised to see moonlight filtering in from the open door. He'd been out a long time. "What the hell do you want?" Spike asked, groggily.
The pain was overpowering, and Spike knew he looked like hell. "Spike. You look like hell? Get caught out in the sun again, I guess." Spike couldn't fool himself.
He knew there wasn't a trace of sympathy or remorse in Buffy's scornful voice. "How ever did you manage to figure all of that out by yourself?" He growled, trying to stand.
"Don't bother. I only came to warn you that Dru's back in town." Spike raised his head to peer at Buffy through his half-closed eyes.
They hurt too much, though, to open. A crust coated them, making it nearly impossible to open them fully. This, though, he could make himself believe was her way of showing how she cared. "Why would you tell me that?" He was careful to make his voice stay calm.
"Because Giles thought you could do some hunting. I'm going to check out the docks, and he said you should take the graveyard and the Bronze. But I can see-" Spike heard the barely suppressed snort, "That you're in no shape to help at all. Can you even walk?" She morbidly added.
"Get the hell out of here, Slayer." Spike told her furiously.
"No problem. Like I'd want to sit around here and smell that." Buffy said, rolling her eyes.
"Why me?" Spike moaned to the ceiling when she was gone. "What has that sod Peaches got that I haven't? I took Dru from him, sometimes. Am I not the ladies man anymore?"
Spike wanted to kill something. He felt like shit, and he knew he sounded pathetic. How Dru would laugh if she saw him now. "I've got to get this damned thing out of my brain!" Spike cried, trying to rise from the bed.
He fell back; uttering curses strung so closely together that one was unintelligible from the next. Grabbing a half-empty bottle of vodka from his bedside table, he poured it over the worst of the wounds, clamping his teeth together to keep from screaming like a woman. Determinedly, Spike tried again to walk from his bed. He managed a tottering few steps, before gracelessly slamming into the cold cement floor. "Oh crap." He managed to get out.
Spike turned over onto his back, preparing to rise. His exertions had exhausted his weakened body, and he struggled to sit up. The door again opened. "Will you get out of my bloody sight? I told you before-" The words stopped as Dru came in, seeming to glow with the radiance she'd always possessed.
Before Spike could choke something out, Dru walked over to him. "Spikey? What are you doing down there on the floor? You look like a little pest."
"Just what I needed to hear." He groaned, and struggled to stand.
Finally, Spike managed to pull himself up to kneel, and then to stand. "Where did you come from? And what in the hell brought you here?" Dru's face softened into a pout.
"You don't call me 'Pet' anymore." She pointed out, crossing her translucent arms over her chest.
"No. I suppose I stopped doing that after you left me." Spike could see her out of one eye.
"Are you going to have hard feelings, when I bring you some very good news? I've heard much good news, and I am so happy I want to dance. I want to dance in the blood of a thousand screaming people, like we used to. Do you remember, my Spike?" Dru's eyes glazed over as she remembered the things they'd done together, the times they'd shared.
"Of course. But I can't do much of that anymore, you know that." Spike tried to get her to come to a point.
"Now you can. I have a smart little human who'll do anything I ask. And I asked him to take out that naughty little chip. What do you say, Spike? Don't you want to play with me again?" Spike pretended to consider this.
His heart glowed with the warmth of darkness. He remembered that feeling well. "I've been waiting to hear that forever, Pet. Bring him in." Dru smiled at him, her dark eyes flashing.
She turned, and Spike felt things slow down. Her dark, shining hair fell over her white shoulders. Dru made a beautiful picture, just like she used to. Spike had little time to react as the goons surrounded him. He couldn't have done much, anyway. Spike looked at Drusilla, wondering what was going on. "I'm sorry, Spike. You're such a naughty boy, going against me. I can't have you running about helping the Slayer. You understand, my Spike?" Spike couldn't respond.
The vampires, their faces leering, their eyes glowing in anticipation pounced. Spike hardly noticed as they beat his aching body. His last sight was Dru, leaning over, concerned. "No! Let me." Her voice sounded so far away.
Spike was acutely aware that Dru now held a stake in her hand. "Dru-" his words were cut off as she stabbed the sharp wood into his chest.
"Goodbye, love." Dru dropped the stake as though it were a cross.
"Get out of here! Leave us." Dru's voice shook, and she rocked back and forth in the pile of ash, sweeping it up into her skirt.
"What shall we do, Mistress?" One of the vampires asked.
"Find the Slayer. She won't live to see the sunrise, will she, Spikey?" Dru crooned to the ashes she held.
The crypt door shut, and Dru sang to her love, cradling what was left of him in her hands.