Title: A Worthy Sacrifice
Author: PNS*
Summary: Spike attempts to explain what he said to Buffy in the finale.
She once said "Spike, this basement is killing you."
How ironic. It did.
"I love you."
"No. You don't. But thanks for saying it."
You never got to know the me that is sacrificing himself for you. WE never had a chance.
That thing, that thing beneath you, within me, you could never love. There. The honest truth. We are one and yet him and I, we are so different. You and I, we never had a chance.
The words are kind, but unnecessary. I'm glad my soul is of use to you. I was afraid I had failed you in the end, when I saw you kissing Angel. It brought my old self to the surface, the jealous, vengeful demon. And I didn't want him to hurt you again.
I can never forget what he-what we did to you. What we almost did. The marks I made on your white flesh are markers on my soul, single fingerprints, reminders pressed into me about how far I needed to distance myself from that image.
So here I am. Distancing myself. Trying to undo something that can never be undone. I guess I understand how Angel felt when you had to kill him. Some part of him knew he had to die, and as long as it would keep you safe it didn't matter. As long as it redeemed him, just a little, it was worth it.
To think I have some future as great as what Angel still has, beyond death, well one can only hope. Not many get chosen to come back as you both have been. Now I've gone and confessed I kinda admire the wanker. Damn it. Forget that last bit. Just know that I'm happy to be of service.
An eternity of uncertainty is worth one night, lying in your arms.
Author: PNS*
Summary: Spike attempts to explain what he said to Buffy in the finale.
She once said "Spike, this basement is killing you."
How ironic. It did.
"I love you."
"No. You don't. But thanks for saying it."
You never got to know the me that is sacrificing himself for you. WE never had a chance.
That thing, that thing beneath you, within me, you could never love. There. The honest truth. We are one and yet him and I, we are so different. You and I, we never had a chance.
The words are kind, but unnecessary. I'm glad my soul is of use to you. I was afraid I had failed you in the end, when I saw you kissing Angel. It brought my old self to the surface, the jealous, vengeful demon. And I didn't want him to hurt you again.
I can never forget what he-what we did to you. What we almost did. The marks I made on your white flesh are markers on my soul, single fingerprints, reminders pressed into me about how far I needed to distance myself from that image.
So here I am. Distancing myself. Trying to undo something that can never be undone. I guess I understand how Angel felt when you had to kill him. Some part of him knew he had to die, and as long as it would keep you safe it didn't matter. As long as it redeemed him, just a little, it was worth it.
To think I have some future as great as what Angel still has, beyond death, well one can only hope. Not many get chosen to come back as you both have been. Now I've gone and confessed I kinda admire the wanker. Damn it. Forget that last bit. Just know that I'm happy to be of service.
An eternity of uncertainty is worth one night, lying in your arms.