Hello all!
I don't know if this will turn out to be a Spike/Buffy fic or not, it might
just turn into a general one.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own em', just borrowing em'. The songs are
Madonna's.
Ok, on with the show!
Things in italics or stars are thoughts. The songs are in stars too.
In the midst of the night, in the middle of the Sunnydale cemetery, Spike sat on a tombstone, staring blankly at his hands.
What happened to me? He used to be so strong, so carefree, he used to be able to.-his hands made a wringing motion- and now? Now he had a soul and a chip. And it's all because of her, because of that damned Slayer. She's the reason I became this.weakling. Because of her I went from being one of the most feared vampires to. He didn't even know what he was, no, actually, he did know what he was: A pathetic, half-mad vampire with a soul. Spike laughed bitterly. I'm turning into my bloody sire now. His pale hands clenched and unclenched, his mind traveling back, to more than 100 years ago.
----------Flashback---------
1892
The ground was still wet from the midnight rain, as Spike and Drusiilla ran through the mist. In front of them, a young man and a woman splashed through puddles, chests heaving as they ran for their lives. Spike and Druscilla ran effortlesly fast, their game faces on. Spike could smell the fear on their pray and her rand faster, growling deep in his throat. The woman shrieked as he caught up with her, swinging her visciously around. Behind him, he heard Drusilla already feeding. He nuzzled the girl's neck, the smell of her blood intoxicating him. Dhe whimpered nad struggled as Spike's fangs peirced her skin and soon fell limp as her blood left her. Spike growled again, looked up, and bending down once more, drained his victim. Dropping the girl, he stood up and licked the blood off his lips.
-------End Flashback------
*I feel so sad, what I did wasn't right
I feel so bad, and I must say to you,
Sorry but.
Nobody's perfect,
Nobody's perfect,
What did you expect?
I'm doing my best. *
Spike unconsiously licked his lips, and fell back into another memory.
Buffy yawned and hummed a little tune, mindlessley flipping the stake over and over in her hand. Her breath made little clouds in the air and she pulled her petitcoat closer around her. Her eyes scanned the silent cemetery and she frowned as she spotted a familiar figure. She walked over to the bleached blond vampire, who sat still and quiet ona grave stone.
"Spike?" Nothing. "Spiiike." she said again, but his eyes remained glassy. "Spike come on, snap out of it!" she snapped her fingers in front of his face. No response. Things moved around her. She sighed, she couldn't leave Spike here. He wasn't a friend among the vampire world right now, and if she left him here, she doubted he would be here for the next sunfall. "Allright, come on then, I'm taking you to my house. There is no way I'm leaving you here by yourself." Buffy put one of his arms around her shoulder and dragged him off towards herhouse. Spike was still lost in his reverie.
Spike woke up, looking blarely around. Where was he? Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely remembered Buffy bringing him back to her house. He looked at the neon numbers of the alarm clock next to him: 3:17 am. Spike put one hand on his head, suddenly remembering what it was that he was doing at the cemetery, or rather, thinking.
"That's it, I can't live like this anymore" Groggely, he stood up, and looked around the living room, "Now if I was Red, where would I keep my books?" A grin same over his fave as he found a shelf with his desired objects. One finger traveled over the weathere spines of the books, finally picking one out, and flipping through it. Dust fell out from between the pages as he quickley sacanned them. Finally he poked a finger triumphantley at one particular page. Quickley, he gathered some objects from another shelf, and quetley, openned the door to outside. With one finall glance at the stairway to upstairs, he stepped out into the chill air. As he looked out at the abandoned street, he muttered:
"You just wait till tomorrow, Slayer, tomorrow's gonna be different. Tomorrow, the Big Bad's coming back, and tomorrow, he won't have a soul." Smirk.
*I can remember, when I was young,
I can't explain if it was wrong.
My life goes on, but not the same,
Into your eyes, my face remaings. I've been so down, down to the ground,
I was so blind, I could not see,
Your paradise is not for me.
I've been so high, I've been so down,
I've been so down, down to the ground.
There is a light.
But love wasn't it.
In the midst of the night, in the middle of the Sunnydale cemetery, Spike sat on a tombstone, staring blankly at his hands.
What happened to me? He used to be so strong, so carefree, he used to be able to.-his hands made a wringing motion- and now? Now he had a soul and a chip. And it's all because of her, because of that damned Slayer. She's the reason I became this.weakling. Because of her I went from being one of the most feared vampires to. He didn't even know what he was, no, actually, he did know what he was: A pathetic, half-mad vampire with a soul. Spike laughed bitterly. I'm turning into my bloody sire now. His pale hands clenched and unclenched, his mind traveling back, to more than 100 years ago.
----------Flashback---------
1892
The ground was still wet from the midnight rain, as Spike and Drusiilla ran through the mist. In front of them, a young man and a woman splashed through puddles, chests heaving as they ran for their lives. Spike and Druscilla ran effortlesly fast, their game faces on. Spike could smell the fear on their pray and her rand faster, growling deep in his throat. The woman shrieked as he caught up with her, swinging her visciously around. Behind him, he heard Drusilla already feeding. He nuzzled the girl's neck, the smell of her blood intoxicating him. Dhe whimpered nad struggled as Spike's fangs peirced her skin and soon fell limp as her blood left her. Spike growled again, looked up, and bending down once more, drained his victim. Dropping the girl, he stood up and licked the blood off his lips.
-------End Flashback------
*I feel so sad, what I did wasn't right
I feel so bad, and I must say to you,
Sorry but.
Nobody's perfect,
Nobody's perfect,
What did you expect?
I'm doing my best. *
Spike unconsiously licked his lips, and fell back into another memory.
Buffy yawned and hummed a little tune, mindlessley flipping the stake over and over in her hand. Her breath made little clouds in the air and she pulled her petitcoat closer around her. Her eyes scanned the silent cemetery and she frowned as she spotted a familiar figure. She walked over to the bleached blond vampire, who sat still and quiet ona grave stone.
"Spike?" Nothing. "Spiiike." she said again, but his eyes remained glassy. "Spike come on, snap out of it!" she snapped her fingers in front of his face. No response. Things moved around her. She sighed, she couldn't leave Spike here. He wasn't a friend among the vampire world right now, and if she left him here, she doubted he would be here for the next sunfall. "Allright, come on then, I'm taking you to my house. There is no way I'm leaving you here by yourself." Buffy put one of his arms around her shoulder and dragged him off towards herhouse. Spike was still lost in his reverie.
Spike woke up, looking blarely around. Where was he? Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely remembered Buffy bringing him back to her house. He looked at the neon numbers of the alarm clock next to him: 3:17 am. Spike put one hand on his head, suddenly remembering what it was that he was doing at the cemetery, or rather, thinking.
"That's it, I can't live like this anymore" Groggely, he stood up, and looked around the living room, "Now if I was Red, where would I keep my books?" A grin same over his fave as he found a shelf with his desired objects. One finger traveled over the weathere spines of the books, finally picking one out, and flipping through it. Dust fell out from between the pages as he quickley sacanned them. Finally he poked a finger triumphantley at one particular page. Quickley, he gathered some objects from another shelf, and quetley, openned the door to outside. With one finall glance at the stairway to upstairs, he stepped out into the chill air. As he looked out at the abandoned street, he muttered:
"You just wait till tomorrow, Slayer, tomorrow's gonna be different. Tomorrow, the Big Bad's coming back, and tomorrow, he won't have a soul." Smirk.
*I can remember, when I was young,
I can't explain if it was wrong.
My life goes on, but not the same,
Into your eyes, my face remaings. I've been so down, down to the ground,
I was so blind, I could not see,
Your paradise is not for me.
I've been so high, I've been so down,
I've been so down, down to the ground.
There is a light.
But love wasn't it.