Chapter 2
Spike wandered the length of Sunnydale every night looking for anything with enough Gaul to try and take him on, he rarely expected to find anyone and never human. About fifty years ago humans came, they belonged to some sort of demon cult, the demon had told them that the vampire that guarded Sunnydale could not harm them because they where his children, in reality the demon new of spikes chip. When they came Spike was bewildered he did not know what to do, if he harmed them his chip would activate and he would be cowering before those imbeciles, but he new that if they where to open the gateway to hell and release the devils into this dimension that his promise to buffy would be broken and Dawn, her friends the Scooby's and there descendants and family would suffer eternal torment, and that is something which he would never allow to happen, he would burn in hell to keep his word.
At first he had tried to scare the humans with his vampire visage, some where frightened but none ran, believing themselves above reproach. And in the end he had nothing left to do but attack them just as he attacked the demons, knowing his chip would activate he did so anyway.
But the chip did not activate and had saved the day again, in that first instance of knowing that his chip was no longer active he grabbed a young girl and pinned her up against the wall and nuzzled her neck savouring her warmth and scent which had so long been denied to him, the girl was crying and begging him to be freed but he could not hear her or even feel her wriggling, trying to escape with every ounce of life, he was caught in her intoxication that he had once taken for granted.
As he was about to bite into the young sweet and tender flesh, images ran through his mind, images of the Scooby's and Dawn, this girl looked a lot like Dawn and could not have been much older than her the last time he had seen her, and finally there was one image that stuck in his mind, an image he could not get rid of no matter how hard he tried, the image of Buffy looking at him curious as to what he thought he was doing, as he had the girl pinned to the wall, his mind swayed one way and then the other about what he should do, and the image grew more intense and more innocent and he felt as though he could feel Buffy's presence as though she was standing next to him, something which made him feel ashamed as to what he was about to do.
He let the girl go.
His mind always came up with things unexpected like that, as he patrolled Sunnydale and its many graveyards and back streets, all of them had a story to tell, himself the only one who could tell it.
As he walked down one of the main streets he could hear a one of the public phones start to ring, he was startled by this considering there was no electricity in the town any more, he ran towards the phone, its ringing getting louder and louder, he picked it up "he..hello", right then and there is mind blasted itself with the deafening noise of a thousand phones ringing all at once, even the phone he had just answered started to ring again, the sound was over whelming "STOP IT, STOP IT" he screamed and shouted over and over tossing and turning on the floor, he held both hands to his ears "WHAT DO YOU WANT…. URGH" he pressed tighter and tighter on his head, using his vampire strength to try and block out the noise, which was now screeching rather than ringing.
He started to press so hard on his head that his ears started to bleed, and just when he couldn't squeeze any harder, just when he thought the noise was going to blow his head up it stopped, and then silence, nothing. He lay there on the floor looking up at the sky, wondering what had just happened, he couldn't remember, and he stared at his hands which now had blood on them, and his head felt as though it had been in a vice.
He got up off the floor and simply carried on with his patrol, which was nearly over for the night, then he would go back to the house, and see Gertrude, Witherspoon and Heather.
The sun was coming up soon, and he didn't want to see its dawn, it only made him sad to see the orange and purple colours in the sky, reminding him that this was another thing that he would never be able to embrace. The sky in the day reminded him of her, her true colours, her blond hair, her green eyes and her orange tan, and the day was warm, just like she was warm. Thinking about the day only drove him to despair, something which he had to much of lately, he sometimes chuckled to himself of what he would have made of himself a hundred years ago, if that spike could see himself now, he wondered what he would have done if he had known what was going to happen.
Spike walked down the street the house belonged to, he called it the house, it was never his home, it was Buffy's home, he was just staying there, it was one of the last places the demons thought they would find a psychotic love sick vampire, in suburbia.
He walked down the road, no cars or vehicles had used the roads in decades, on both sides the houses where no different to what had happened to the rest of the small city, walls where cracked from the various earth quakes southern California got, paint from the houses had curled and crumpled from the hot sun and termites had riddled the wood making it unsafe for quite a while now, the grass on the lawns in front of the houses was at least a meter high, and any little trees people had where huge now, there roots causing subsidence in the neighbouring houses making a few lob sided, he mused at the roots cracking through the pavement and the road, noticing that with time and pressure any thing was possible.
He new all this of by heart, he tried living in some other houses for a little change, but none of them felt right, he never felt comfortable or at rest in them. He walked down this street with his head held down looking at the floor, he new his route, he had taken it for very long time.
Finally he had walked far enough, he stopped dead in his tracks looked up and seen the house that lay before him, it was here that most of his fondest memories came to mind, he remembered the first time he was here bargaining for Drucillas life and talking to Buffy's mother, she was a sweet women, she always had marshmallows for him.
He walked up the porch steps that creaked to his step, being rotten wood it would probably fall through soon, the house almost looked haunted, if people back in the day could see it now he thought. He opened the door simply by pushing it, it had been kicked open by a demon a while back who had figured on where he lived, and he simply couldn't replace the broken lock, he walked into the front room which contained a large metal drum connected to plastic wires and glass vials with a small flame underneath a larger glass container which held copious amounts of moonshine, he would try and drink himself to death in the lighter hours of the day, this was how he usually got to sleep, him and his stile which created his precious moonshine made from potatoes and blood.
Speaking of blood, it was time to meet Spikes donors.
He collected the animal feed from outside, coupled with a few chopped up apples and pears, from the trees outside, and made his way to the basement, there his three friends lived, his three pot belly pigs, "heads up kiddies, daddies home, and I've got treats" he walked down the stairs of the basement with a smile as the three pigs rushed towards him with ears flopping and loud grunts of appreciation where dealt spikes way.
One pig made its way to his side and Spike smiled and stroked its head "there, there Gertrude I haven't forgotten you, I've got treats for you too", he marched towards their large troth and pored the contents of the feed bag into the troth, the three pigs rushed over and threw there heads into the troth eating greedily, "bloody pigs" he said with a smile on his face.
He stoked all three of them as they fed on what he had collected from the garden, "there's a boy Witherspoon".
He knelt down beside Witherspoon and pulled a glass bottle from the corner beside the troth, and revealed a small scalpel from the inside of his jacket, he put the bottle next to soft skin, and with the scalpel proceeded to cut the pig "there, there Witherspoon, all be over soon" the pig gave of a small squeal of pain "sshh, boy nearly done", the bottle was filling up nicely with the thick pigs blood, he had learned a while ago how to get the blood to almost taste like human blood, sweet and thick.
The bottle had filled to the top, and Witherspoon had really hadn't taken much notice, spike did this to them nearly every night, and they had become accustomed, well after all he was the one who brought the treats.
He had taken enough, at least a pint and since he hadn't seen much action in quite a while he didn't need that much, he put the bottle down on the floor and pressed Witherspoon's wound putting pressure on it, and allowing the blood to dry before he put a plaster on the cut "there now that wasn't that bad was it boy".
The where left to finish there meal and stood up walking over towards the old stairs, he jumped up the stairs two at a time with his bottle of blood in hand.
He emerged and seen that it was dawn outside, he gave a slight sigh and walked over towards his stile, its metal drum becoming rusty, he turned the nozzle to one of the large pieces of plastic tube releasing the clear alcohol into a large jar, he put up to a pint of clear wood stripper into the jar and closed the nozzle, he then put his blood from Witherspoon into the jar making a unhealthy pink colour looking liquid.
He moved into the living room and threw himself down on the sofa which was now worn and had a deep impression where he had relaxed so many times before.
He sat back and took a long swig of the jar that must have been around seventy percent proof, which he just drank like water, he looked around the room, it was a dump, he was sure it was damp cause of the wallpaper peeling from the walls, everything was discoloured and large marks had appeared on the walls, plaster had fallen down in places, revealing the hollow walls, mice ran in and out of the house, but then at least they weren't rats and hay everyone needs a place to stay, even the likes of spike.
He reached forward towards the coffee table and there lay his sketches and photos of buffy and the Scooby's, sometimes he wondered why none of them had come back when the demons had left realising both that there was nothing left to eat and king spike didn't want them there, he thought about what they most probably had done with there lives, he thought of Xander and Anya married with rugrats living a long and healthy life, he only knew of Willow and Tara going to Angel because that is where they said they would most probably be needed, and he knew little Dawn had gone to England, he had made sure she was to grow up there with Giles, he was there when she boarded the plane, she looked back at him with curious and sad eyes, she probably thought about what he was going to do all alone in Sunnydale.
Wondering about what happened to nibblet always made him go deep into thought mode, he new that Giles would have provided the best of everything for her, the very best education, he giggled to the thought of Dawn with an English accent and going to Oxford. Or maybe she just got married to some handsome guy and had a bunch of kids, anyway he knew that she would have been surrounded by loved ones when she died, probably great grand children, that thought gave him rest, but he always could never figure on why they had never come back, or at the very least why hadn't the council sent another slayer.
Consumed thoughts all ran as to this question, maybe they thought there was no need, there where no humans to protect anymore and spike was there to protect the hell mouth.
He looked at each of the pictures of all of them, the photos had become crumpled and brown, he took another swig on the large jar, a tier came to his eye when he fixed his eyes on Buffy's picture, he knew what her fate had been.
Spike wandered the length of Sunnydale every night looking for anything with enough Gaul to try and take him on, he rarely expected to find anyone and never human. About fifty years ago humans came, they belonged to some sort of demon cult, the demon had told them that the vampire that guarded Sunnydale could not harm them because they where his children, in reality the demon new of spikes chip. When they came Spike was bewildered he did not know what to do, if he harmed them his chip would activate and he would be cowering before those imbeciles, but he new that if they where to open the gateway to hell and release the devils into this dimension that his promise to buffy would be broken and Dawn, her friends the Scooby's and there descendants and family would suffer eternal torment, and that is something which he would never allow to happen, he would burn in hell to keep his word.
At first he had tried to scare the humans with his vampire visage, some where frightened but none ran, believing themselves above reproach. And in the end he had nothing left to do but attack them just as he attacked the demons, knowing his chip would activate he did so anyway.
But the chip did not activate and had saved the day again, in that first instance of knowing that his chip was no longer active he grabbed a young girl and pinned her up against the wall and nuzzled her neck savouring her warmth and scent which had so long been denied to him, the girl was crying and begging him to be freed but he could not hear her or even feel her wriggling, trying to escape with every ounce of life, he was caught in her intoxication that he had once taken for granted.
As he was about to bite into the young sweet and tender flesh, images ran through his mind, images of the Scooby's and Dawn, this girl looked a lot like Dawn and could not have been much older than her the last time he had seen her, and finally there was one image that stuck in his mind, an image he could not get rid of no matter how hard he tried, the image of Buffy looking at him curious as to what he thought he was doing, as he had the girl pinned to the wall, his mind swayed one way and then the other about what he should do, and the image grew more intense and more innocent and he felt as though he could feel Buffy's presence as though she was standing next to him, something which made him feel ashamed as to what he was about to do.
He let the girl go.
His mind always came up with things unexpected like that, as he patrolled Sunnydale and its many graveyards and back streets, all of them had a story to tell, himself the only one who could tell it.
As he walked down one of the main streets he could hear a one of the public phones start to ring, he was startled by this considering there was no electricity in the town any more, he ran towards the phone, its ringing getting louder and louder, he picked it up "he..hello", right then and there is mind blasted itself with the deafening noise of a thousand phones ringing all at once, even the phone he had just answered started to ring again, the sound was over whelming "STOP IT, STOP IT" he screamed and shouted over and over tossing and turning on the floor, he held both hands to his ears "WHAT DO YOU WANT…. URGH" he pressed tighter and tighter on his head, using his vampire strength to try and block out the noise, which was now screeching rather than ringing.
He started to press so hard on his head that his ears started to bleed, and just when he couldn't squeeze any harder, just when he thought the noise was going to blow his head up it stopped, and then silence, nothing. He lay there on the floor looking up at the sky, wondering what had just happened, he couldn't remember, and he stared at his hands which now had blood on them, and his head felt as though it had been in a vice.
He got up off the floor and simply carried on with his patrol, which was nearly over for the night, then he would go back to the house, and see Gertrude, Witherspoon and Heather.
The sun was coming up soon, and he didn't want to see its dawn, it only made him sad to see the orange and purple colours in the sky, reminding him that this was another thing that he would never be able to embrace. The sky in the day reminded him of her, her true colours, her blond hair, her green eyes and her orange tan, and the day was warm, just like she was warm. Thinking about the day only drove him to despair, something which he had to much of lately, he sometimes chuckled to himself of what he would have made of himself a hundred years ago, if that spike could see himself now, he wondered what he would have done if he had known what was going to happen.
Spike walked down the street the house belonged to, he called it the house, it was never his home, it was Buffy's home, he was just staying there, it was one of the last places the demons thought they would find a psychotic love sick vampire, in suburbia.
He walked down the road, no cars or vehicles had used the roads in decades, on both sides the houses where no different to what had happened to the rest of the small city, walls where cracked from the various earth quakes southern California got, paint from the houses had curled and crumpled from the hot sun and termites had riddled the wood making it unsafe for quite a while now, the grass on the lawns in front of the houses was at least a meter high, and any little trees people had where huge now, there roots causing subsidence in the neighbouring houses making a few lob sided, he mused at the roots cracking through the pavement and the road, noticing that with time and pressure any thing was possible.
He new all this of by heart, he tried living in some other houses for a little change, but none of them felt right, he never felt comfortable or at rest in them. He walked down this street with his head held down looking at the floor, he new his route, he had taken it for very long time.
Finally he had walked far enough, he stopped dead in his tracks looked up and seen the house that lay before him, it was here that most of his fondest memories came to mind, he remembered the first time he was here bargaining for Drucillas life and talking to Buffy's mother, she was a sweet women, she always had marshmallows for him.
He walked up the porch steps that creaked to his step, being rotten wood it would probably fall through soon, the house almost looked haunted, if people back in the day could see it now he thought. He opened the door simply by pushing it, it had been kicked open by a demon a while back who had figured on where he lived, and he simply couldn't replace the broken lock, he walked into the front room which contained a large metal drum connected to plastic wires and glass vials with a small flame underneath a larger glass container which held copious amounts of moonshine, he would try and drink himself to death in the lighter hours of the day, this was how he usually got to sleep, him and his stile which created his precious moonshine made from potatoes and blood.
Speaking of blood, it was time to meet Spikes donors.
He collected the animal feed from outside, coupled with a few chopped up apples and pears, from the trees outside, and made his way to the basement, there his three friends lived, his three pot belly pigs, "heads up kiddies, daddies home, and I've got treats" he walked down the stairs of the basement with a smile as the three pigs rushed towards him with ears flopping and loud grunts of appreciation where dealt spikes way.
One pig made its way to his side and Spike smiled and stroked its head "there, there Gertrude I haven't forgotten you, I've got treats for you too", he marched towards their large troth and pored the contents of the feed bag into the troth, the three pigs rushed over and threw there heads into the troth eating greedily, "bloody pigs" he said with a smile on his face.
He stoked all three of them as they fed on what he had collected from the garden, "there's a boy Witherspoon".
He knelt down beside Witherspoon and pulled a glass bottle from the corner beside the troth, and revealed a small scalpel from the inside of his jacket, he put the bottle next to soft skin, and with the scalpel proceeded to cut the pig "there, there Witherspoon, all be over soon" the pig gave of a small squeal of pain "sshh, boy nearly done", the bottle was filling up nicely with the thick pigs blood, he had learned a while ago how to get the blood to almost taste like human blood, sweet and thick.
The bottle had filled to the top, and Witherspoon had really hadn't taken much notice, spike did this to them nearly every night, and they had become accustomed, well after all he was the one who brought the treats.
He had taken enough, at least a pint and since he hadn't seen much action in quite a while he didn't need that much, he put the bottle down on the floor and pressed Witherspoon's wound putting pressure on it, and allowing the blood to dry before he put a plaster on the cut "there now that wasn't that bad was it boy".
The where left to finish there meal and stood up walking over towards the old stairs, he jumped up the stairs two at a time with his bottle of blood in hand.
He emerged and seen that it was dawn outside, he gave a slight sigh and walked over towards his stile, its metal drum becoming rusty, he turned the nozzle to one of the large pieces of plastic tube releasing the clear alcohol into a large jar, he put up to a pint of clear wood stripper into the jar and closed the nozzle, he then put his blood from Witherspoon into the jar making a unhealthy pink colour looking liquid.
He moved into the living room and threw himself down on the sofa which was now worn and had a deep impression where he had relaxed so many times before.
He sat back and took a long swig of the jar that must have been around seventy percent proof, which he just drank like water, he looked around the room, it was a dump, he was sure it was damp cause of the wallpaper peeling from the walls, everything was discoloured and large marks had appeared on the walls, plaster had fallen down in places, revealing the hollow walls, mice ran in and out of the house, but then at least they weren't rats and hay everyone needs a place to stay, even the likes of spike.
He reached forward towards the coffee table and there lay his sketches and photos of buffy and the Scooby's, sometimes he wondered why none of them had come back when the demons had left realising both that there was nothing left to eat and king spike didn't want them there, he thought about what they most probably had done with there lives, he thought of Xander and Anya married with rugrats living a long and healthy life, he only knew of Willow and Tara going to Angel because that is where they said they would most probably be needed, and he knew little Dawn had gone to England, he had made sure she was to grow up there with Giles, he was there when she boarded the plane, she looked back at him with curious and sad eyes, she probably thought about what he was going to do all alone in Sunnydale.
Wondering about what happened to nibblet always made him go deep into thought mode, he new that Giles would have provided the best of everything for her, the very best education, he giggled to the thought of Dawn with an English accent and going to Oxford. Or maybe she just got married to some handsome guy and had a bunch of kids, anyway he knew that she would have been surrounded by loved ones when she died, probably great grand children, that thought gave him rest, but he always could never figure on why they had never come back, or at the very least why hadn't the council sent another slayer.
Consumed thoughts all ran as to this question, maybe they thought there was no need, there where no humans to protect anymore and spike was there to protect the hell mouth.
He looked at each of the pictures of all of them, the photos had become crumpled and brown, he took another swig on the large jar, a tier came to his eye when he fixed his eyes on Buffy's picture, he knew what her fate had been.
