Thanks to everyone who review the first part of this story, it encouraged
me to add more to the story.
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6/3/02 Revised with Lanna's and Kellyne's critiques, added more physical descriptions and actions
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Part 2
Sunnydale
It was a calm California night with a half-moon shining in the sky. Crickets sounded rhythmically from the tall grass at the sides of the road Occasional a gentle breeze blew causing the grass to gently sway.
Then, the peace was disturbed by a distant rumbling sound. The sound grew in volume as a motorcycle appeared. The crickets became silent as the motorcycle approached, slowed and came to a stop on the gravel at the side of the road.
A slim man sat astride the motorcycle. His compact, yet well muscled body was encased in black, black boots, black jeans and a short black leather jacket. His blond hair was windblown not covered by a helmet. He tilted his head to the side as his blue eyes observed on the sign in front of him.
~ ~ ~ ~
Spike's thoughts wandered as he stared at the sign.
"Welcome to Sunnydale"
He was back, back in Sunnydale. So much had happened. So much had changed and everything, all of it for her. . . . . The love he hadn't expected, hadn't wanted. For her he had become something he'd previously despised. Spike remembered berating and mocking Angel over his soul and the way he acted under a souls influence.
"Demons don't change" How wrong that was.
Spike laughed, it was a rough, rusty sound. It had taken two weeks to get back to California and he hadn't talked to anyone the entire time. He'd spend his time alone in the shadows, thinking. . . . dealing. His wounds were almost completely healed and his body once again felt strong and vital. One thing you can say about Vampires, we heal fast.
As Spike sat on his motorcycle staring at the sign, [Welcome to Sunnydale], he laughed again. Would anyone here welcome him? So much had changed since he first came to Sunnydale and since he last left .
When he and Drusilla first came to Sunnydale, years ago, he'd though he understood himself and the world. Everything made sense and the rules were clear. He was a demon. Demons killed humans and drained them dry. Humans were cattle, nothing more. Slayer were a challenge. Slayers were a fight to be remembered then killed. Vampires were not men, they were demons in a dead-man's bodies. When had that changed? When had the line blurred and become unclear.
Spike closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He inhaled the night, pine, floral scents and the stinging hot asphalt smell of the road. His chest rose and fell with a movement that mimicked breathing. But he didn't breath. He had a heart that didn't beat, but did love. . . . . too much.
He was not a man, even with a soul he could not be a man. His goal was to NOT be a monster. Spike wasn't sure what he was or what he would be. He wasn't sure where he'd fit in. But he was sure he could no longer hurt Buffy as he had . . . before.
He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms painfully as the memory of their last encounter washed over him. He'd though that Buffy would be safe from him, the demon he was. If anyone should have been safe it was Buffy. But he'd thought wrong. He'd hurt Buffy. Not intentionally with malice, but that didn't matter. Did it?
Spike reached up and rubbed his dusty face with his hand. His blue eyes held a pained expression. He'd gone to Buffy's house to apologize, to talk, to make her understand. Instead his emotions had overwhelmed him and he'd . . . . . .
His mind veered away from the memory. That was one memory that had been just as painful before he had a soul, as after. His shiny new soul helped him better understand why his actions were . . . unforgivable. He hadn't just hurt Buffy physically, he had almost raped her. He'd lost control of himself and almost raped Buffy, the woman he loved.
Was there anyway to fix that? Was there anyway to be forgiven for that? Spike wasn't sure, but he had to try. He had keep moving forward. He would try. . . . . His love for Buffy was still the strongest emotion he felt.
His love for Buffy motivated him to get a soul, it would inspire him to, NOT be a monster. Spike wondered if Buffy would ever accept him in her life. Would he ever hold her again? His body tightened painfully as he remembered holding her, kissing her, loving her.
Spike ran his hand roughly through his short blond hair, then shook his head. Oh no, he wasn't going to fall into that trap. No brooding allowed or at least very little. A smile of true amusement curved his lips. Soul or not, he still though Angel was a great-melodramatic-broody-sod.
Spike reached down and turned the key to start the motorcycles engine. The engine roared to life and he headed into Sunnydale, destiny awaited.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please review
(shameless plea for opinions and praise)
-------------
6/3/02 Revised with Lanna's and Kellyne's critiques, added more physical descriptions and actions
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Part 2
Sunnydale
It was a calm California night with a half-moon shining in the sky. Crickets sounded rhythmically from the tall grass at the sides of the road Occasional a gentle breeze blew causing the grass to gently sway.
Then, the peace was disturbed by a distant rumbling sound. The sound grew in volume as a motorcycle appeared. The crickets became silent as the motorcycle approached, slowed and came to a stop on the gravel at the side of the road.
A slim man sat astride the motorcycle. His compact, yet well muscled body was encased in black, black boots, black jeans and a short black leather jacket. His blond hair was windblown not covered by a helmet. He tilted his head to the side as his blue eyes observed on the sign in front of him.
~ ~ ~ ~
Spike's thoughts wandered as he stared at the sign.
"Welcome to Sunnydale"
He was back, back in Sunnydale. So much had happened. So much had changed and everything, all of it for her. . . . . The love he hadn't expected, hadn't wanted. For her he had become something he'd previously despised. Spike remembered berating and mocking Angel over his soul and the way he acted under a souls influence.
"Demons don't change" How wrong that was.
Spike laughed, it was a rough, rusty sound. It had taken two weeks to get back to California and he hadn't talked to anyone the entire time. He'd spend his time alone in the shadows, thinking. . . . dealing. His wounds were almost completely healed and his body once again felt strong and vital. One thing you can say about Vampires, we heal fast.
As Spike sat on his motorcycle staring at the sign, [Welcome to Sunnydale], he laughed again. Would anyone here welcome him? So much had changed since he first came to Sunnydale and since he last left .
When he and Drusilla first came to Sunnydale, years ago, he'd though he understood himself and the world. Everything made sense and the rules were clear. He was a demon. Demons killed humans and drained them dry. Humans were cattle, nothing more. Slayer were a challenge. Slayers were a fight to be remembered then killed. Vampires were not men, they were demons in a dead-man's bodies. When had that changed? When had the line blurred and become unclear.
Spike closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He inhaled the night, pine, floral scents and the stinging hot asphalt smell of the road. His chest rose and fell with a movement that mimicked breathing. But he didn't breath. He had a heart that didn't beat, but did love. . . . . too much.
He was not a man, even with a soul he could not be a man. His goal was to NOT be a monster. Spike wasn't sure what he was or what he would be. He wasn't sure where he'd fit in. But he was sure he could no longer hurt Buffy as he had . . . before.
He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms painfully as the memory of their last encounter washed over him. He'd though that Buffy would be safe from him, the demon he was. If anyone should have been safe it was Buffy. But he'd thought wrong. He'd hurt Buffy. Not intentionally with malice, but that didn't matter. Did it?
Spike reached up and rubbed his dusty face with his hand. His blue eyes held a pained expression. He'd gone to Buffy's house to apologize, to talk, to make her understand. Instead his emotions had overwhelmed him and he'd . . . . . .
His mind veered away from the memory. That was one memory that had been just as painful before he had a soul, as after. His shiny new soul helped him better understand why his actions were . . . unforgivable. He hadn't just hurt Buffy physically, he had almost raped her. He'd lost control of himself and almost raped Buffy, the woman he loved.
Was there anyway to fix that? Was there anyway to be forgiven for that? Spike wasn't sure, but he had to try. He had keep moving forward. He would try. . . . . His love for Buffy was still the strongest emotion he felt.
His love for Buffy motivated him to get a soul, it would inspire him to, NOT be a monster. Spike wondered if Buffy would ever accept him in her life. Would he ever hold her again? His body tightened painfully as he remembered holding her, kissing her, loving her.
Spike ran his hand roughly through his short blond hair, then shook his head. Oh no, he wasn't going to fall into that trap. No brooding allowed or at least very little. A smile of true amusement curved his lips. Soul or not, he still though Angel was a great-melodramatic-broody-sod.
Spike reached down and turned the key to start the motorcycles engine. The engine roared to life and he headed into Sunnydale, destiny awaited.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please review
(shameless plea for opinions and praise)