*Gah! I'm writing this entire story to Bach's Fugue in G minor, don't ask.
but in turn it has turned my writing into insanity! * She's bloody insane,
that one is* "Spike, how did you get out of my basement? Get back there
before I have to take away your happy breakfast cereal that you like soo
much! Gets up and chases him menacingly with a plastic spoon. ya ya,
everything belongs to Joss, don't sue my ass, I got's no money and I
already had to sell my kidneys and feeling of self-dignity to buy back my
soul from certain people. *coughwicca-jewcough* Also, lyrics from Michelle
Branch- Goodbye to you! Thank you! Send in them reviews, or I'll subject my
little friends to the torture of hearing me piss and whine about no one
reviewing my story. * oh, and the a hundred and forty days, I know that's
not how long Buffy was gone, I'm saying, she will be resurrected in a week.
Of all the things I believed in
I just wanna get it over with
Tears from behind my eyes;
But I do not cry
Counting the days that pass me by
I've been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
Feels like I'm starting all over again
And that the last 4 years are just pretend
And I said.
Goodbye to you,
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing I tried to hold on to.
I used to get lost in your eyes
It seems like I can't live a day without you
Close my eyes and you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I'm blinded by the light
But it's not right!
Goodbye to you,
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing I tried to hold on to. . .
Spike looked down at his unfinished poem, it wasn't like his others. This one was more of a vision he had, a dream, but he couldn't explain it. He woke up in a cold sweat, panting for unneeded breath, reaching for his journal immediately. It was too confusing. He knew it was Buffy he saw, but it wasn't the same Buffy he loved. He didn't know who this was. She was the sunlight in his otherwise nightmare of an existence. She made the monsters abandon the night. She made his monster tame. And he hated her for it. And he loved her for it.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he saw in his dream . . . it hurt too much to remember, but it hurt intensely to forget.
She was happy, she was free, and she was somewhere he could never be. He had pretty much reserved a seat for himself in hell. But then she saw whom she was with. A girl with tanned skin and curly hair and a set expression revealing a tiny smile at the corners of her lips. And an older woman, with dark straight deep chestnut hair, and freckles on her nose. She had a gypsy-like appearance. And Joyce, she was with Joyce, finally, his two women found each other. Finally, a man with curly longish dirty blond hair, walking hand in hand with his Slayer. Ponce, Poof, who the hell did he think he was doing with his Slayer? And that's when it hit him. He knew who each person was . . . the first girl, was the slayer he had fought . . . the one Dru bagged. The other woman, she was from the Kalderash tribe . . . yes, Angelus was the end of her. Then there was Joyce. But that man, he seemed familiar enough. And the realization hit him. It had been over a century and a couple of decades since he had seen himself. But that was him! It was his soul, with Buffy! And she was walking hand and hand with HIM! *
For once in a hundred and forty days- and counting- he felt a bit of happiness. He may not have her here with him but part of him was her's forever. But where was the fear in that. He woke up petrified! He replayed the image in his mind. And there it was . . .
*The man-er- Spike's soul-William, whomever you wanted to call it, leaned close to Buffy, and whispered to her . . . " He loves you" and with a scream, his soul was ripped out of heaven, of bliss, out of her arms. It was all the same when he wasn't with her. And his soul, God knows where that was . . . Spike, now on his feet pacing back and forth in his crypt, punched a wall in confusion. He vamped out and was about to take out his anger on his unsuspecting lamp, when something felt different. He started to pant loudly, and with a scream, he landed on the floor. And that's when he heard it, for the first time in 126 years. His heartbeat.
Of all the things I believed in
I just wanna get it over with
Tears from behind my eyes;
But I do not cry
Counting the days that pass me by
I've been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
Feels like I'm starting all over again
And that the last 4 years are just pretend
And I said.
Goodbye to you,
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing I tried to hold on to.
I used to get lost in your eyes
It seems like I can't live a day without you
Close my eyes and you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I'm blinded by the light
But it's not right!
Goodbye to you,
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing I tried to hold on to. . .
Spike looked down at his unfinished poem, it wasn't like his others. This one was more of a vision he had, a dream, but he couldn't explain it. He woke up in a cold sweat, panting for unneeded breath, reaching for his journal immediately. It was too confusing. He knew it was Buffy he saw, but it wasn't the same Buffy he loved. He didn't know who this was. She was the sunlight in his otherwise nightmare of an existence. She made the monsters abandon the night. She made his monster tame. And he hated her for it. And he loved her for it.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember what he saw in his dream . . . it hurt too much to remember, but it hurt intensely to forget.
She was happy, she was free, and she was somewhere he could never be. He had pretty much reserved a seat for himself in hell. But then she saw whom she was with. A girl with tanned skin and curly hair and a set expression revealing a tiny smile at the corners of her lips. And an older woman, with dark straight deep chestnut hair, and freckles on her nose. She had a gypsy-like appearance. And Joyce, she was with Joyce, finally, his two women found each other. Finally, a man with curly longish dirty blond hair, walking hand in hand with his Slayer. Ponce, Poof, who the hell did he think he was doing with his Slayer? And that's when it hit him. He knew who each person was . . . the first girl, was the slayer he had fought . . . the one Dru bagged. The other woman, she was from the Kalderash tribe . . . yes, Angelus was the end of her. Then there was Joyce. But that man, he seemed familiar enough. And the realization hit him. It had been over a century and a couple of decades since he had seen himself. But that was him! It was his soul, with Buffy! And she was walking hand and hand with HIM! *
For once in a hundred and forty days- and counting- he felt a bit of happiness. He may not have her here with him but part of him was her's forever. But where was the fear in that. He woke up petrified! He replayed the image in his mind. And there it was . . .
*The man-er- Spike's soul-William, whomever you wanted to call it, leaned close to Buffy, and whispered to her . . . " He loves you" and with a scream, his soul was ripped out of heaven, of bliss, out of her arms. It was all the same when he wasn't with her. And his soul, God knows where that was . . . Spike, now on his feet pacing back and forth in his crypt, punched a wall in confusion. He vamped out and was about to take out his anger on his unsuspecting lamp, when something felt different. He started to pant loudly, and with a scream, he landed on the floor. And that's when he heard it, for the first time in 126 years. His heartbeat.