A/N: Is this the end? Very possibly. But maybe not. It decides on my mood and how many reviews and how much root beer I've had. It is only 2 am! :P R&R, lemme know if you want more or if it's enigmatic with this ending…and if it sucked, too bad, I liked it. Hehehe.
Time.
Spike had never given it much thought. In all his hundred and some years the only time he could really remember time passing this painfully slow was the time when Buffy's body had lain underneath the neatly trimmed cemetery grass.
He cursed himself and kicked fiercely at a stone that dared stray in his path. The thought of Buffy dead and buried depressed him, angered him, and made him think more. It wasn't what he needed at the time.
For every reason he found to stay alive, there were three telling him he was better off dead. And once he'd finally figured out that that nagging voice in the back of his brain was right there were still more loose ends that told him he'd never forgive himself for not tying up.
Inner turmoil was definitely not his friend.
In the interim that same voice had been whispering how great it would be for him to just go get properly drunk and forget all this cling and clatter. Just…forget. As good as that sounded, as tempted as he was, he held off. That was something the old him would do. He couldn't be trusted then. He'd been sloshed when he went to see Buffy that night he…
"Bugger!" he yelled, kicking at a nearby trash can. It flew off the metal pole it was hinged to, spilling rubbish across the sidewalk. "Great," he said angrily. "Now I'm killing Mother Earth!"
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off.
Anger boiled up in his veins, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. The passing car, the wall, everything begged his fist to greet it.
He let out a roar at the top of his lungs, seeing spots form in front of his eyes from the force.
He heard a yelp and fell into silence, looking around curiously.
A thin looking stray dog cowered to his left. A meager meal, but it would take the edge off. When was the last time he'd fed? A week, two?
"C'mere, Pup," he said softly, kneeling down with outstretched fingers.
Tentatively the dog came closer, sniffing at his fingers. And ever so softly, his tail swished.
Spike smiled sadly, petting the clumped, dirty hair of the mutt. "Sad sight, ain't ya, boy?"
The dog whimpered softly, wagging his tail harder.
All he had to do was get a good grip around the dog and sink his fangs into the tender flesh. Simple. Dinner.
Spike stood up, giving its head one last pat.
The dog whined and followed two steps behind and off to the side as he walked off.
"Ain't got no food," Spike told him, eyeing the dog from the corner of his eye.
Grumbling, he stopped at the nearest convenience store. "Stay here."
He went in and looked about the shelves until he found a nice sized can of dog food. He dug in his pockets for some cash, found none, and sighed. If he'd had his duster he could've nicked it no sweat.
Damn.
He approached the counter almost shyly.
The young teenager there greeted him with a smile.
"Look," he started. "I've got no cash, but that dog out there's practically wasted away to nothing, and he won't stop following me, and he looks really pathetic."
'Kind of like you,' his inner-self chastised.
The girl smiled. "Don't worry. I'll cover it."
"I'll pay you back," Spike said. When the girl went to refuse he held up a hand. "What's your name?"
"Sandy," she replied.
"I'll bring back the money," he promised her.
She nodded. "Pet him for me."
Spike allowed a small smile himself. "Sure."
He headed back out to where the dog was waiting. It's tail swished at the sight of him.
"Here," he said ripping off the top and shoving the can at the dog. "Eat up."
As the mutt began to chow down Spike made his escape.
He headed back toward his crypt, shaking his head. 'Paying a bloody clerk back. Reason number three to not dust myself. Bloody hell.'
Dawn sat alone in the crypt, waiting for Buffy to finish scouring the cemetery for Spike. She wiped her moist eyes with the sleeve of her jean jacket, only to begin sobbing again. She was mad at him and she feared him and what he was planning to do. Most of all she missed him.
"What's the matter, pet?" a familiar voice asked.
"Spike?" she asked, jumping up and spinning around.
He stood at the door, looking weary and resigned.
"Expecting someone else?" he asked in a half-hearted attempt at humor.
She flung herself at him, hugging him hard and long. "You scared the shit out of me!"
"Watch the tongue," he admonished when he pulled away.
"Yeah, whatever," she said hurriedly. "I thought you were going to do something crazy."
"I am," he replied, bent over a stack of clothing.
"What?" Dawn asked softly.
"Because I came home you think I'm not going to do what I planned to do?" he asked her, slipping out of his button down.
She stared at the scarring in the middle of his chest.
He looked down. Those trials had taken a toll on him.
He quickly pulled on a black t-shirt. "Problem?"
"Yeah!" she cried. "My problem is: one of my best friends is going to turn himself to a pile of dust!"
He spun angrily. "Don't call me that, Bit. I'm not a best friend. I'm a fucking demon!"
"With a soul," she said, lip trembling.
"Doesn't make a difference," he said. "I'm a monster. Grr and all that."
"Spike," she pleaded. "Please, can't we talk about this?"
He laughed. "Watching too many movies. There is no talking. Only doing. There's a beginning, a middle and an end. You're at your beginning, pet, and I'm at my end. I've been alive long enough. Hurt too many people, done too many wrong things. I'm what makes this world so bloody dark."
She felt new tears begin to flow. "No.."
"Yes," he told her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Dawn…you can't begin to imagine what I'm going through. None of you can. I'm not asking you to. But I can't go on living with this."
"We can make things better," Buffy' s voice said from behind them.
"People are making a living of doing that," Dawn muttered, meaning the sneaking in through the door. "Buffy's right, we can make things better!"
"Nothing in the world could make this better," Spike said facing the sisters. "Except me not being here. I stop hurting, everyone else stops hurting."
"Try we hurt even more!" Dawn cried.
Buffy put a hand on her shoulder. "Spike…"
He silenced her with an icy look. "We can make it better, eh? Tell me, Slayer. Could you ever love me? Love me like I love you?"
Buffy bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. "I…I don't know."
"No," he said. "None of that. You know as well as I do."
She could barely form the words as she spoke. "No. I couldn't love you like you love me. I could try, but I wouldn't be able to do it."
"Because every time you look at me, look in my eyes," he said. "You'll see a monster. Because that's all I have ever been to you. It's all I ever will be."
"B-but, Angel was--" Dawn started.
"Angel was all soulful when she met him," Spike said, voice thick with emotion. "She knew him as that man. And when he became Angelus, it was easier to forgive, because that wasn't who he was. It wasn't…who he was…"
Buffy sobbed out loud.
"Maybe you're right, Buffy. Maybe I can't know love," Spike whispered. "Maybe I am that monster you see in your nightmares."
He turned away. "It's got to be this way."
"No," Dawn whimpered, clinging to Buffy.
"I won't let you do it," Buffy said. "Never."
"Doesn't work that way, love," he said. "It's not something you can stop me from doing. Just be content with knowing you tried, eh?"
He looked toward the door then. "Almost light. Time for me to go."
"NO!" Dawn shouted.
"Lil' Bit," he said, putting a hand to her cheek. "I…"
He trailed off, unable to say what he felt. He'd never been too good at that kinda thing.
"Dawn."
He gave them both a weathered smile. "I'm sorry."
And he left.
He walked away, leaving them sobbing, holding each other up.
The sun rose. People awoke and began another day in their blissfully ignorant lives. Some people cried, and others died, inside as well as physically.
There were people in need of help, friends who needed consoled. School to attend and work to labor. Bills needed paid, demons needed slayed.
And none of it mattered.
None of it could matter.
Time.
Spike had never given it much thought. In all his hundred and some years the only time he could really remember time passing this painfully slow was the time when Buffy's body had lain underneath the neatly trimmed cemetery grass.
He cursed himself and kicked fiercely at a stone that dared stray in his path. The thought of Buffy dead and buried depressed him, angered him, and made him think more. It wasn't what he needed at the time.
For every reason he found to stay alive, there were three telling him he was better off dead. And once he'd finally figured out that that nagging voice in the back of his brain was right there were still more loose ends that told him he'd never forgive himself for not tying up.
Inner turmoil was definitely not his friend.
In the interim that same voice had been whispering how great it would be for him to just go get properly drunk and forget all this cling and clatter. Just…forget. As good as that sounded, as tempted as he was, he held off. That was something the old him would do. He couldn't be trusted then. He'd been sloshed when he went to see Buffy that night he…
"Bugger!" he yelled, kicking at a nearby trash can. It flew off the metal pole it was hinged to, spilling rubbish across the sidewalk. "Great," he said angrily. "Now I'm killing Mother Earth!"
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off.
Anger boiled up in his veins, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. The passing car, the wall, everything begged his fist to greet it.
He let out a roar at the top of his lungs, seeing spots form in front of his eyes from the force.
He heard a yelp and fell into silence, looking around curiously.
A thin looking stray dog cowered to his left. A meager meal, but it would take the edge off. When was the last time he'd fed? A week, two?
"C'mere, Pup," he said softly, kneeling down with outstretched fingers.
Tentatively the dog came closer, sniffing at his fingers. And ever so softly, his tail swished.
Spike smiled sadly, petting the clumped, dirty hair of the mutt. "Sad sight, ain't ya, boy?"
The dog whimpered softly, wagging his tail harder.
All he had to do was get a good grip around the dog and sink his fangs into the tender flesh. Simple. Dinner.
Spike stood up, giving its head one last pat.
The dog whined and followed two steps behind and off to the side as he walked off.
"Ain't got no food," Spike told him, eyeing the dog from the corner of his eye.
Grumbling, he stopped at the nearest convenience store. "Stay here."
He went in and looked about the shelves until he found a nice sized can of dog food. He dug in his pockets for some cash, found none, and sighed. If he'd had his duster he could've nicked it no sweat.
Damn.
He approached the counter almost shyly.
The young teenager there greeted him with a smile.
"Look," he started. "I've got no cash, but that dog out there's practically wasted away to nothing, and he won't stop following me, and he looks really pathetic."
'Kind of like you,' his inner-self chastised.
The girl smiled. "Don't worry. I'll cover it."
"I'll pay you back," Spike said. When the girl went to refuse he held up a hand. "What's your name?"
"Sandy," she replied.
"I'll bring back the money," he promised her.
She nodded. "Pet him for me."
Spike allowed a small smile himself. "Sure."
He headed back out to where the dog was waiting. It's tail swished at the sight of him.
"Here," he said ripping off the top and shoving the can at the dog. "Eat up."
As the mutt began to chow down Spike made his escape.
He headed back toward his crypt, shaking his head. 'Paying a bloody clerk back. Reason number three to not dust myself. Bloody hell.'
Dawn sat alone in the crypt, waiting for Buffy to finish scouring the cemetery for Spike. She wiped her moist eyes with the sleeve of her jean jacket, only to begin sobbing again. She was mad at him and she feared him and what he was planning to do. Most of all she missed him.
"What's the matter, pet?" a familiar voice asked.
"Spike?" she asked, jumping up and spinning around.
He stood at the door, looking weary and resigned.
"Expecting someone else?" he asked in a half-hearted attempt at humor.
She flung herself at him, hugging him hard and long. "You scared the shit out of me!"
"Watch the tongue," he admonished when he pulled away.
"Yeah, whatever," she said hurriedly. "I thought you were going to do something crazy."
"I am," he replied, bent over a stack of clothing.
"What?" Dawn asked softly.
"Because I came home you think I'm not going to do what I planned to do?" he asked her, slipping out of his button down.
She stared at the scarring in the middle of his chest.
He looked down. Those trials had taken a toll on him.
He quickly pulled on a black t-shirt. "Problem?"
"Yeah!" she cried. "My problem is: one of my best friends is going to turn himself to a pile of dust!"
He spun angrily. "Don't call me that, Bit. I'm not a best friend. I'm a fucking demon!"
"With a soul," she said, lip trembling.
"Doesn't make a difference," he said. "I'm a monster. Grr and all that."
"Spike," she pleaded. "Please, can't we talk about this?"
He laughed. "Watching too many movies. There is no talking. Only doing. There's a beginning, a middle and an end. You're at your beginning, pet, and I'm at my end. I've been alive long enough. Hurt too many people, done too many wrong things. I'm what makes this world so bloody dark."
She felt new tears begin to flow. "No.."
"Yes," he told her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Dawn…you can't begin to imagine what I'm going through. None of you can. I'm not asking you to. But I can't go on living with this."
"We can make things better," Buffy' s voice said from behind them.
"People are making a living of doing that," Dawn muttered, meaning the sneaking in through the door. "Buffy's right, we can make things better!"
"Nothing in the world could make this better," Spike said facing the sisters. "Except me not being here. I stop hurting, everyone else stops hurting."
"Try we hurt even more!" Dawn cried.
Buffy put a hand on her shoulder. "Spike…"
He silenced her with an icy look. "We can make it better, eh? Tell me, Slayer. Could you ever love me? Love me like I love you?"
Buffy bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. "I…I don't know."
"No," he said. "None of that. You know as well as I do."
She could barely form the words as she spoke. "No. I couldn't love you like you love me. I could try, but I wouldn't be able to do it."
"Because every time you look at me, look in my eyes," he said. "You'll see a monster. Because that's all I have ever been to you. It's all I ever will be."
"B-but, Angel was--" Dawn started.
"Angel was all soulful when she met him," Spike said, voice thick with emotion. "She knew him as that man. And when he became Angelus, it was easier to forgive, because that wasn't who he was. It wasn't…who he was…"
Buffy sobbed out loud.
"Maybe you're right, Buffy. Maybe I can't know love," Spike whispered. "Maybe I am that monster you see in your nightmares."
He turned away. "It's got to be this way."
"No," Dawn whimpered, clinging to Buffy.
"I won't let you do it," Buffy said. "Never."
"Doesn't work that way, love," he said. "It's not something you can stop me from doing. Just be content with knowing you tried, eh?"
He looked toward the door then. "Almost light. Time for me to go."
"NO!" Dawn shouted.
"Lil' Bit," he said, putting a hand to her cheek. "I…"
He trailed off, unable to say what he felt. He'd never been too good at that kinda thing.
"Dawn."
He gave them both a weathered smile. "I'm sorry."
And he left.
He walked away, leaving them sobbing, holding each other up.
The sun rose. People awoke and began another day in their blissfully ignorant lives. Some people cried, and others died, inside as well as physically.
There were people in need of help, friends who needed consoled. School to attend and work to labor. Bills needed paid, demons needed slayed.
And none of it mattered.
None of it could matter.
