A/N: Post Season 7, from a certain crazy little girl's POV.

Ashes. They all taste like ashes, every one of them. Even the young ones, nice and fresh and tender. Every meal I've had tastes like ashes.

Everything tastes like ashes now. Like he did.

I can still taste him, on the tip of my tongue. Ashes. And now he's nothing but ashes.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Like the priest said. He said it at Mother's funeral. He said it at little Anne's funeral. He said it at all their funerals. I remember. But did he say it for me? Did he say it for my brave knight?

My poor boy wouldn't listen. Mummy tried to warn him. Mummy told him what would happen if he went back. But my boy never listens.

I could see her, see the bad girl. She would be the end of him, one way or another. And she was dancing now, wasn't she? Dancing and singing. Mustn't think that way now. Must pull the slippery thoughts together, catch them in the net like silver fish. For my dear Spike.

"Why can't you kill her?" I pleaded. Begged. She was a bad girl. Needed to be spanked. And Daddy wasn't doing the spanking like he was supposed to.

"You're the one who keeps bringing her up!" he yelled back. He didn't understand. No, too brash. My puppy had always been too brash.

"I haven't said a word about the bloody Slayer since we left California. She's on the other side of the planet, Dru!"

The other side of the planet, crushed by the stars. The bad girl was with my Angel.

"But you're lying! I can still see her floating all around you, laughing." Oh, she laughed. She laughed louder than the pixies. "Why? Why won't you push her away?" Please, Spike. Push her away for the both of us. We can be together if only you'd push her away.

"But I did, pet. I did it for you. You keep punishing me. Carrying on with creatures like this."

She's in you. In your very flesh and blood, like I once was. Polluting your mind.

"Okay, you guys obviously have a thing going on here."

Fred, stay out of it. It was just a fling, sweets. "I have to find my pleasures, Spike."

I had to tell him. Had to tell him, because he wouldn't listen to my warnings.

"You taste like ashes."

I knew he had misunderstood when he pointed at Fred with the drinks in his cloven hooves.

"So this is my fault now?"

I wasn't talking about that, love. You misunderstand again. Just like dear Daddy. He never understood my warnings, either. No one does, except for Miss Edith. And she was gone, all burnt up. Poor Miss Edith, I'm sorry I put you in the corner for misbehaving.

"I didn't know she was seeing somebody."

Please, Fred. Go before my white knight splatters your slime all over my new dress.

"I should take off."

Yes, that would be best. The sweet moon will show you the way out.

"Yeah, why don't you do that?"

"You can't blame the ghoul, Spike. You're all covered with her."

Sweet Fred blew me a little kiss. Now the pixies are jealous. I wish the bad Slayer would be jealous, too. At least appreciate what she's cutting from my veins before she trampled over it like something the cat dragged in. Little Anne used to have a pretty little kitty. I loved the kitty. Daddy did, too. He said she tasted like warm maple syrup.

I wished she had tasted like sunshine. I wished Daddy had been burnt for being such a bad Daddy. Shh. Mustn't let Daddy hear such thoughts. Daddy might bring out his toys…

Mustn't lose track of my thoughts now. Daddy was lost. I had to try again, before I lost my sweet little boy to the bad girl, too.

"I look at you…all I see is the Slayer."

Did he understand? Please, dear stars, tell him. Let him understand. Keep him here, where he'll be safe.

My Spike was frustrated, angry. He broke a pretty table. The drinks poured onto the ground in such pretty patterns. Patterns of bloodshed, lots of blood, in a dark place. Some many dolls to play with. And fire, a burning fire. Bad fire.

And Daddy. And Grandmummy, too, how odd. But we would meet again. And then my Spike would truly be lost.

"Dru, love, please—"

"Shh." I covered his lips. "Don't make promises you can't keep, like Daddy did."

I had to let him go. Because the stars had preordained it. How I wished I could smother the stars and have them drop like drops of dew for me to splatter.

My poor boy was confused again. Becoming angry. "What does Peaches have to do with this?"

"Just like Daddy. You're just like Daddy. Go, sweet William." I cut his cheek, lapped up the few drops of him that came out. Taste of ashes. "We can still be friends."

I'd let him go, then. Everything had whispered that he wasn't mine any longer.

Was it wrong to not want to let go? Was it wrong to wish for more time together, just a few more decades? Was it as wrong as the visions that the priest had said were the work of the devil? Daddy had said that they were evil, that they made me a devil-child. Of course he was right. Daddy was always right…

My William had never wanted to be like Daddy. Hated Daddy. Yet at the same time, everything he did mirrored Daddy. Even the daffodils laugh. The daffodils like the irony.

I don't. I ripped the daffodils into little pieces, and yet they still laugh.

It's all because of the Slayer. The naughty, naughty girl. Seducing everyone away from me. Taking my family.

But I have something she doesn't—will never have. I still have the taste on ashes on the tip of my tongue.

She had his insides wrapped around her little finger. She made his entrails into puddings and cake. She carved his heart out, baked it like a shriveled raisin in the sun.

But the ashes are mine. Taste of ashes, taste of dead ashes, all mine.

I can still remember the taste of sweet William, as sweet as the night I first saw him sobbing tears of blood. And I think he was William, in the end.

Because the bad, naughty Slayer had killed my Spike and turned William into ashes.

But after all's said and done, the bad, wicked girl has nothing left. And I do, that's the important thing. Because ashes had always been mine to give and mine to take.

Mine and mine only. Not hers. Never hers.