Summary: A short ficlet of Spike's POV after "As You Were"

Saving My Ass: All charecters belong to Joss and Co *Damn him*

Suplication: R/R I *need* affirmation!





I knew of course. I knew as soon as I saw the poncy soldier boy that it was over. I had been waiting for something, some little thing that would pull her over the edge of her desperation. I knew that it couldn't last, that someday she would find her self respect and her damned codecending sense of morality again. She had too. I was killing her. She had looked into my eyes with her clear blue-green ones and said, "It's killing me."

Don't you know it's killing me too? I wanted to shout at her. Do you think I like the look in your eyes when you come to me? You think I can't taste the deperate violence and know that this is wrong and that you're using me and that you hate yourself for it? Silly bint. She doesn't know how well I understand that. But still as she walked away, I longed to call out after her, to convince her not to go, to take from her that new-found sense of who she really was and shatter it in a million pieces just so I could hold her again. But I love her and I can't.

I can't ever love you. Not I don't love you or I won't love you..can't. She can't love someone she can't trust.

I blew it, fucked it up but good this time. She was starting to believe that I was good. I could see it in her eyes, she wanted to believe it. It justified her, salved her conscience. That's why I had to pull that stupid sceme. To make her see that I wasn't her lap dog, that I was what I was and no chip could change that. But, for all that, I could be good. I could...it just wouldn't be good enough. It would never erase the mistrust in her,or her necessary caution. She would never trust, never forgive, never believe in me...

Bloody hell, where's a gypsy camp when you need one?

But no, I couldn't live with that. I wouldn't be a paler representation of my Sire, even for her.

I'm sorry William.

Those three words devestated me. She was sorry. She, the golden goddess, the beautiful provacative soulful Slayer was sorry. She had used me and she was sorry. And she had said it, not to the demon, but the man in me. She saw me, despite the pretense and peroxide. She saw William. And she cared. She cared how much she had hurt him.

She was gone from me now and I could do nothing this time to pull her back. I was glad for that. I was happy for her, that she had found herself at last, that she was working it out.

I found tears coming to my eyes and made no attempt to hold them back.