Disclaimer: I don't own 'em! At least all the normal characters you recognize, I'm just borrowing the said characters. If I owned them, you could guarantee BtVS wouldn't be nearly such a good show as it is now! The story, my ego, and my soul belong to me, but if you want to give a kind donation, *ahem* I'll loan 'em out! LOL. J/K.

Author's Notes: This is the first in a series of letters between the most unlikely, and likely people. There will be four in the "Passion for Death" series: Drive, Reasons, Escape, and Heaven. The first is from Spike's POV, the second is from Darla's POV, the third is from Buffy's POV, and the fourth is from Dawn's POV. These four characters will have more in common then you first would suspect. NO PAIRINGS.

Summary: If you could write one letter, one honest to god letter, and bare your soul to one person. Who would it be? The person who drove you, molded you into what you became?

Song: "You better lose yourself in the moment… you only get one shot, do not miss your chance…" Lose Yourself - Eminem

Rating: 14-A for language and violence





Drive
First in the "Passion For Death" series
By ~Delenn~




Great-Grandsire,

I know, you're thinking why the fuck would I write you. Bloody hell, ask me even a month ago I'd've said the same. O' course, I'd've been lying. Then, you'd've at least figured I had someone better to write to then you.

Fact is, I don't.

Thing is, you're still a bloody bint, and I'd be soddin' off my rocker to think of you as anything else. Don't be mistaken, I still hate you, we still hate each other. I'm not that delusional.

You always warned me that messing around with Slayers was going to get me killed one day. Guess you were right. But hell, woman, I've done a lot more with this one then the last two, even if I didn't kill her. Don't even start with me on this, I did kill two Slayers, a damn sight more then Peaches ever accomplished.

Thing is, I wrote to you because I always figured I'd write this to my greatest critic, but the person who understood me. Call it the last sense of poetic justice I still have.

I doubt you understand me, but you've sure gone out of your bloody way to be my greatest critic. Never could do anything right for you, could I? Always figured this would be a chronicle of my accomplishments, but I'm sure you'll be the first to point out what's become of me.

But, damn you; this was not even five years out of over a hundred and twenty! So, why am I really writing to you? Probably the masochist in me, begging to have my last shred of hope destroyed; that's what the Slayer would have said anyway.

I'll be straight, and act like a soddin' poof. Everything I ever accomplished in the last century was because of you.

It was you who never, ever, gave me the approval I craved. Sad to admit that stupid wanker has been alive and well inside me all along. But it was you who drove me. Peaches never cared about me one way or another. If I was good, he said so; if I was bad, he threatened me. Never had the balls to act on it though, not like you. Peaches' always been all talk and no action, but I suppose you know that. I was Dru's knight, no matter what, that was how she was going to think of me.

You picked apart my every action and came up with what a failure I was. Never did one thing right in your eyes, no matter how hard I tried, and you were damn vocal about it, weren't you?

I killed the Slayers to prove I was worth something, and it was you I was proving it to. Hell, before that even, I got my name trying to prove I was a real vampire to you.

Remember the first time I used a railroad spike? I took the spike and impaled four blokes working there. Then I pulled out the stake and their hearts came too, left them with their eyes still open, bleeding like stuck pigs. Hearts still beating, four of them, one for each of us; mine as a trophy. I mean, at least you thought that was funny, didn't you? Said something about how maybe in a couple centuries I could play on the same court with the real vampires. Went on to say, you did, that at least I could impale something.

You always were a stupid cow. Even so, never figured how you stood Peaches for so long. Actually, hear you two are back together now? Can't say I'm surprised, but just keep him away from here.

Despite it all, I did everything for you, and my princess. Killed little children and Slayers, raped girls 'Bit's age, tortured thousands, and still, nothing. I was the Big Bad because of you, and you never even congratulated me.

Defeated the Annoying One too, became a Master Vampire, one of the big boys, and still, nothing. Well, didn't rightly expect it then, you were gone, but I figured now. Stop in and say, "Hey, I was wrong, you're not a fuck-up." Couldn't give me the satisfaction though, could you?

Fuck, though, doesn't matter now.

I wrote this to resolve this thing we have. 'Cause, damn it, I never rightly saw us as enemies. Almost figured that, if you weren't such a haughty bitch, we might've gotten on.

See, even with this soddin' chip, I'm still bad, still wanted to be at least. And the Slayer, well, I figured that if she wouldn't have me, I'd have her. You would have liked my reasoning at least, 'cause you see the chip doesn't work on her anymore. Suppose it was expected that I pushed her too far, being an evil vampire and all.

I raped her, she staked me. Kind of a fitting suicide for a vampire, death by the Slayer's hand, surrounded in violence and pain; at least, I thought it was fitting. I know you always said survival was the most important thing, but with this chip, I wasn't really undead anymore.

So, as you probably know, you get one letter down here. Finish what you have to finish. Well, I finished it in Sunnyhell, all right, I have nothing to say to Dru or Peaches, and that left you. Right unfinished you were.

Hope unlife works out better for you this time around.

-Your great-grandchilde - Spike