He'd started making idle rhymes a while back, which was upsetting. And it wasn't just the fact that he was still awful at it, either. It was too much like babbling. He couldn't stop. Wasn't in control. Isn't that what this had all been about in the first place, after all? This stupid, sodding soul? Control? Huh…soul, control.

"DAMN it!" He talked to himself aloud now, and had ceased to care. No one to pretend for. It seemed he dreamed aloud too, if such a thing could be explained. Hallucinated, if you wanted to get all clinical about it.

Or maybe not. This could be Hell. It fit, after all. There was evil here, he could feel it deep down. He'd been so tired, after he was metaphysically forced back together. Delirious. Maybe he'd crawled out of the caves, fallen asleep on the still-warm sand, and the sun had found him and taken him where he belonged.

But that would be too easy. He had a feeling he might have to do it himself.

"Need to get out of here…" He was pacing now, hands in his hair, and where the hell had the bleeding door got to—

"Spike?" Not her, please. Not when he couldn't think…

"Ooh, I can see it, can't I? You won't be keeping things from me." She wagged a dagger-tipped finger at him. "Naughty boy."

"I don't have time for this, Dru!" She ignored him, as usual. Her hand grabbed his throat and he was pinned against the wall.

"Don't you want to know what they say?" She asked, pouting. "Urk." Her dark hair tickled his arms as he shoved her away.

"What who say, Dru? The stars? The pixies? The bleedin' Conservative Coalition?" Empty laugh. "Because you can tell them I don't give a flying – Unh!" He gave an involuntary gasp as her razor nails raked down his cheek.

"My silly William. It's the eyes." She giggled, and looked at him like that explained everything. She liked eyes, he recalled. Said they tasted beautiful, like blood and tears.

"They whisper the things you don't want to say. But I can hear them, always could." She slid her hand up his shirt. "Hear you." Her chin was on his shoulder now, and he could feel her soft hair sticking in the blood on his face. He wanted to kill her, but he couldn't move. "Do you know what they tell me?"

He shook his head. No…

She started rocking back and forth, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Cooing, stroking the back of his head like a child's.

"Don't lie to me, William. I think you do know. Screaming it, you are." The hand on his chest drifted downwards. It felt like ice, even to him.

"Death." She sighed, and licked his cheek.

He roared and pushed her back with all his strength. "Don't you TOUCH me!"

She was laughing.

*****

The other him was always maddeningly smug. It was disgusting.

"Disgusting, me? Look who's talking, pot." It grinned and gave him a playful little shove. "You can't fob everything off on me, you know. Take some credit, why don't you? I mean really, you put me to shame."

"Piss off."

"Nah, sorry, not gonna. You're in some kind of pathetic denial, and it makes me sick." It wrinkled its nose. "Well, that and the stench."

"Oh, do I offend you? Ever so sorry!" He spat, but it just smiled, tongue in its teeth.

"You always were an awful liar when it mattered, weren't you William?" Dripping disdain. "I guess I'll have to make you feel it." Gonna make you feel it…

"That's right, you remember! And I have to say, well done." It gave a few exaggerated claps.

"That wasn't me, you fuck. I've changed." He felt an awful sinking.

"Oh, now I get it. You let that ponce convince you." Sneering, it mocked in a high falsetto. "I'm different now. I have a soul. Oh Buffy, it wasn't me!" Inches from his face, now. "Bullshit, and you know it. It wasn't me, that night. It was you. It's always been you."

*****

No structure. It was a problem. Time was he could tell the difference, quite obvious really. Real, not real. But not anymore. Things were too…jumbled. It was all a dream, now.

"Is that what you think this is?" Sunset half-smile. Golden glow. His teeth in her neck… "Because I don't think you're taking this seriously." She walked towards him, and the heat that radiated from her gained soft form. A cloud…

He hid his eyes. "No—I am! Promise."

"Look at me then." So he looked up. She knows.

"Very sorry. Know it's not my place, never…" Trailed off as she nodded.

"That's right, Spike. It's not your place. Not your right. It's mine." She held out her hand and he was filled with a gorgeous, chest-bursting hope. It's time! The piece of jagged wood he hid behind his back left splinters in his hand as he pressed it eagerly in her open palm.

Then she crushed him, smiling. "But not just yet."

*****