It's dark.
Of course it is; Spike is a vampire. But he's in a burning town now, a town flickering out with a final shower of sparks, a firework swooping in and crackling before it extinguishes itself with a cry of relief.
It should be everything he hates, but for Drusilla he will revel in it.
It's dark.
The light flickers at the periphery of his vision; he stares blankly upwards, processing a life in which he fears the fire that once warmed him and welcomes the embrace of the darkness so richly feared in his native town. He contemplates his very existence-how he both owes this one to Drusilla and yet would not be dead without her. He needs to ground her, his saviour, so he is not lost. That is all he knows of this. Bind her to him, revel like his subconscious fights against his demon to stop him from doing...
What he needs is a sign. To show her who he is. That he is her man, vampire, whatever he is. He needs to find someone to enjoy the fight with him. Make him a proper...man. For her.
And that, after all, is why they are here.
He lowers his head to look along the street where a girl is doing her very best to subdue rioters non-lethally. He is impressed with her skill, and his demon roars to fight her. To make her abandon her noble post and let the destruction rain down around her body. For Drusilla, he once again embraces this side of him. He prowls towards the girl, the slayer, and leaps into battle with her.
Spike isn't entirely sure how it happens-he thinks they took out a few civilians and to protect them she may have gradually enticed him into a burning temple (clever of her, fire being one of his nemeses) yet here they are, duking it out sacrilegiously in a place of worship as her world burns around her. He knows, of course he does, that this must be painful for her, yet he knows too, that just like him, there is some part of her that enjoys this dance they are creating. They are not so different, he and she, an ulterior motive siphoning away the rawness of the fight. She to save her town, and he has to impress his girl. But it is at this moment that he truly understands the similarity of slayer and vampire, the transience of their differences-it is, simply, a goal and how they got their matching powers that separates them. They enjoy the fight, both do, but they do it with a heavier heart.
It is also at this moment that she slashes his face.
The blade runs through his skin, splicing it like an experiment. Angelus used to do that to him frequently. Angelus would not be musing on the poetic comparison of slayer and vampire. Angelus would be musing on how best to kill the girl.
Perhaps, those differences he was wondering about do not apply to every vampire. He has spent the whole evening pondering his state, his mind, and his position in (un)life and the contradiction between his soulfulness and his wild, wild demon. He, he realises, is an anomaly among vampires, and this slayer-given mark immortalises this.
But is this a bad thing? Can he not embrace it, he thinks as he unceremoniously finishes off the fight and waves of grief for the beauty of what they just created overcomes him. This inherent discord could enrich him. This, he triumphantly decides, is who I am. For Drusilla, but also for me, and this girl. I am Spike, and I carry this scar with me as a symbol of my slayer-born power. Also, I'm pretty fucking fantastic right now, and he turns to kiss his girl.