Title: Transition Author: Katie N. (Asylum Escapee) Rating: PG13- it gets quite gory in some parts, but there's no sex. Comments: Spike finds a young girl dying in the street, and the image haunts him. Dedication: Ragna, who is just one of the coolest chicks I have had the honor of e-mailin'. Disclaimer: JOSS's! Mutant Enemy! The characters are theirs.. The rest is MINE MINE MINE! Feedback: I'll forver be your bitch if ya gimmee some.

The temperature of the air was indistinguishable. It combined the extremes of hot and cold in a brutal ballet on my skin. One could not tell whether it was summer or winter in this godforsaken place. I drew a breath, that with what the air contained, could blacken my lungs worse than cigarettes, had I still been alive. It was the grim aura of evil, and it was not coming from me.

The sensation made me uneasy, and my boots quickened their clicking on the damp pavement. The street was nothing more than a glorified alleyway, and that description might have been flattering. It was littered with drug addicts, screaming for their fix that they could not afford. Yet the stench of their uncleanliness was overpowered. I felt it again…

Concentrated evil.

The work of the devil. Something horrid must be happening now, for the feeling was worsening.

I could hear the muffled cries of what sounded like a young woman. First in fear, then in agony, as the cacophony of pain included the sound of a blade tearing flesh. The cries soon dimmed to a soft mewling.

As quickly as I'd felt it, the evil presence was gone, though I still thirsted to find out what awful deed it had done. My bleak wish was granted, when I saw her lying there. I would see that scene played over in my mind countless times in the weeks to come.

And there she was. A bruised angel, a damaged goddess, awash in a pool of her own blood. Their were deep cuts in her abdomen, so deep… Blonde curls which had likely many times been turned a brilliant gold by the sun were now tinged with burgundy. She was still alive, as I could hear her ragged breathing.

She sensed my presence, as I had of the evil that had claimed her, that had torn her body open. With great effort, she turned her head towards me, and locked her glassy eyes upon mine. Oh, but those eyes were frightful. A brilliant green, like the color of jade. It seemed as though that color were seeping out of her eyes like tears as her life was leaving her. This was not as I had seen death so many times before.

Her perfect lips formed one word, "help" though her lungs lacked the strength to give the word audibility. Yet, it was the most powerful message I had ever heard.

I kept my eyes locked on hers. I knelt down beside her, my knees saturated with her essence. I had never seen so much blood and not felt the hunger that always plagued me. Never had I had such pure intentions towards someone.

She pulled air into her lungs with immense difficulty. Her throat rasped with the effort. Using the little strength she had left, her hand uncurled, and she held it out to me. I grasped it firmly, and gazed deeply into her eyes, which still drained of their former beauty. Her time was almost gone.

Shaking, I pressed my lips to her forehead, and kissed her. Her body became still, and just before she died, she spoke to me, in a voice clearer than the bells of Notre Dame.

"Thank you." She said. And that was it. Her last breath taken, I heard the rattle deep within her chest and I knew she was gone. Aghast at what had just happened, I stepped back. For the first time in many years, I began to cry. I wanted so much to know this girl. Yet, I never will. For that, I am the poorest man on earth.

I ran my hands through my bleached hair and sighed, wiping the tears hurriedly from my face.

Perhaps I have become a softy in my old age. I would have figured that after 126 years, I wouldn't be so affected by something.

How wrong I was.

(There'll be a sequel, if I get some feedback.)