Author: Bitten And Staked
Title: Something I can never have.
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Summary: Spike lives with the torment of his soul, as it starts getting quieter it focuses on one specific thing he did, he realises now is the time to seek forgiveness. Spike part of Fight Against The Hours.
Timeline: Post Season 6 AU. Spike never came back after getting his soul, he's now settled in England to recuperate and it's been 2 and a half years since he's seen Buffy.
Pairing: Spike [without Buffy].
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: everyone else owns Buffy and all associated with her.
Feedback: always welcome so email me - webmaster@talesoftheslayer.com
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He knew their faces, voices, knew inside him that they'd never looked like that, it was the soul twisting and deforming them, making them appear that way, like horror made real in meat and bone and blood - blood that he could almost smell, taste, like a faint tang of metallic in his mouth, the memory of human blood. When the first ones came they appeared like he'd remembered them, every one a human but days, weeks, months passed and each time they visited him they became more transfigured. Flesh peeling away in ragged strips exposing torn muscle and sinew, bloodied and dying, screaming his name and curdling his blood as they faded away, rotting, melting into nothing more than dust and food for the worms.
They were battered, tortured and bruised, skin lacerated and bleeding tears of deepest crimson, metal bonds cutting into their soft flesh, puncturing their skin until blood flowed out of them like a waterfall, it sickened him. He'd never done anything like that, never tortured anyone until they died from the torment and pain, that had been Angels doing, Angels penchant, he'd always been quick, merciful - don't play with your food William, it's impolite.
Spike knew he was being punished - driven to dementia by the one thing he thought would save him, help him be the man he wanted to be, the man he should be. This was to be the contrition he had to embrace, suffering a century of murder every night, every day, every time he closed his eyes. How much blood had he spilt? Enough that his soul felt like it was twisting upon itself inside him, wrenching and distorting him along with it. Pain, misery and eternal damnation were his now, this is what he deserved, judged by his own soul to suffer infinity of blackness surrounded by the people he'd destroyed.
But time heals all, his flesh, his mind, his soul. They were quieter now, distant sounding like he was underwater and they were only echoes in his head. But they still came, still tormented him, less deformed, less blackened, less sickening, all except one. One his soul clung to, the one that had pushed him into desiring it back and the soul he'd won, fought hard to gain, thought it fitting he should suffer more over that one than any other, so it gave him the visions, the dream and the nightmare.
A cool night breeze blew in through the window, parting the curtains softly and allowing the pale blue beams of the full moon to enter. The dark room was suddenly illuminated in cold empty light revealing him sitting curled up in a chair staring blankly into nothingness. If he didn't move, didn't think then it didn't hurt, much.
Switching his gaze to the window he stared at the moon with envy, it looked so peaceful up there bathing in the stars and bringing light to the millions. Spike used all his effort to concentrate on the sound of cars passing by in the street below, he couldn't think because that always lead to the voices coming back, if his mind was quiet then they were too. They were practically gone now, over 2 years on from getting his dried up and broken soul bloodied again, and he didn't want them back.
It was the 870th time he'd had that dream, at first it had come every time he chanced to sleep along with all the others, but now the others were gone and only it remained, it was becoming less frequent but it was still painful. Subconsciously he scratched at his bare chest, it itched sometimes when he remembered the horrific things he'd done, when he broke down, holding himself tight and crying until he choked on the sobs that convulsed his tired body. He wondered if Angel had felt like this, but then Angel hadn't tried to rape the girl he loved, he'd just tried to kill her. On the edge of his senses he felt the pain creeping in, advancing slowly like an army.
Taking a ring off his little finger he stared at it, it was a skull design and he smiled frailly at the memories of happier times, even if it was a spell gone wrong. Trying to focus on good times he struggled against it but couldn't block out her voice for long, her screaming at him to stop, begging him. Screwing his eyes shut Spike hugged his knees tightly and heard the ring slip from his hand at the same time as the rush of images hit him.
Buffy was on white tiles, pushing at something, he realised she was pushing at him, struggling against him as he attacked her. He could hear her voice clearly, it was pained and it was bitter and it was telling him she could never love him. His view switched and he was watching himself forcing her to the floor, pinning her roughly as he grinned maliciously, she was crying now, there was always blood, there'd never been blood but when his soul taunted him it made the tiles seep with it until it was a sickening contrast. Crisp white virgin tile tainted with dark red blood, sticky and sinful.
Sucking a breath in sharply as his head cleared Spike choked and reached out for the glass beside him. He could handle all the others, the thousands he'd killed, they could taunt him into eternity and now he was so used to it he wouldn't care but hurting Buffy, doing something so sickening to her made him wretched. Spike rocked back and forth in his chair, struggling with his emotions and begging his soul for forgiveness.
Looking at his hand he realised instead of holding a glass he was holding his picture of her, he bought it to him and rested it against his knees, it had a strangely steadying effect on him. It was the only thing he'd taken with him when he'd left Sunnydale, a picture of Buffy that Dawn had given him, her green eyes were smiling up at him with her red lips parted softly, in the background was the Bronze. He was slightly shocked when a tear slipped from his cheek and ran down her face like she was crying, wiping it away with his thumb he ached inside.
"I'm sorry pet."
Spike placed the picture back down beside him and looked at the glass, empty. Standing up he saw the ring on the floor and sighed as he closed his eyes, bent over to pick it up and slipped it back onto his finger.
Walking to the kitchen he powered up his stereo and looked about the flat, it wasn't much but he felt better having somewhere safe to sleep in, somewhere away from prying eyes. He could handle the pain, the memories that came to him and the voices in his head when he was alone, there were times when he'd been travelling across Europe to get back to England that people had seen him break down, holding himself and seemingly crying over nothing. He'd hated that, looking weak and pathetic just like he really was.
Reaching for the tap he paused for a moment and stared at the bottle of bourbon by the sink, dragging his eyes away from it he filled the glass with water and headed back into the living room.
Drinking half the glass before he'd even sat back down Spike looked at the picture of Buffy again, letting the soft piano of the song wash over him he tried to remember the good times again but failed.
I still recall the taste of my tears
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears
My favourite dreams of you still wash ashore
Scraping through my head till I don't want to sleep anymore
Staring blankly out of the window he remembered his dreams, they never started off bad, they just ended that way. Buffy was walking into his crypt, sunlight streaming in and she smiled as she raised a stake in her hand. As she neared him her hand dropped and he kissed her, after pulling back for a second she crushed her mouth against his in a kiss that seemed to last forever. Then it was suddenly night, Buffys bedroom and he was moving slowly against her under the sheets, she was staring deeply into his eyes with a look that was almost love but then as the scene played out it switched to the bathroom, cold white tiles and Buffy screaming. He shuddered as a chill swept up his spine and he stared at her picture.
You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I'm down to just one thing and I'm starting to scare myself
You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I just want something
I just want something I can never have
He felt empty inside as he missed her, he had managed to hit the bottom and sink further still but now he was clawing his way back to a place where he could stand a little taller, irrevocably changed but only for the better. He knew now why he did it, he was desperate, had gone there to apologise but something had happened between him entering the house and making it upstairs. He'd become scared, desperate for her to love him, to admit she felt something for him, willing to do anything for a sign that she cared. She'd pushed him to the limit, screwed with his head so much he didn't know if he was coming or going. She'd pushed him one step too far, but it still didn't justify his actions. When he'd overstepped the mark he'd realised there was no going back, something had to change and it wasn't her, it was him.
You always were the one to show me how
Back then I couldn't do the thing I can do now
This thing is slowly taking me apart
Grey would be the colour if I had a heart
Holding himself as he stared at the moon he could feel it inside burning him up, eating him alive, tearing him down. He'd thought it would make him better, a fast painful solution that would solve all his problems but he'd been wrong. It hurt more than expected, scorched him with fire that burnt hotter than a thousand suns, Angel had never looked as bad as Spike had first felt, he'd never felt like he was falling into hell. He ran his finger down her face, cold glass hard under his fingers, distant to him like she'd always been.
Come on tell me
You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I'm down to just one thing and I'm starting to scare myself
You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I just want something
I just want something I can never have
He needed her, needed to fall into her arms and feel her wrap them around him tight, touching his cheek softly in the most tender of caresses, her sweet voice whispering in his ear that it was okay, she loved him, she forgave him, he was her everything. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood he forcibly held back his sobs, choking on every one of them. He saw now there would be no forgiveness, no love, no tender touches, just burning seething hatred of him, because he was too scared to go back to Sunnydale when he should've done, couldn't face her, couldn't see the pain in her eyes reflecting how badly he'd hurt her, couldn't be the man he wanted to be.
Moving to the window Spike stared up at the stars and wondered what she'd be doing right now, it would be late evening back there and he pictured her happily sitting around the house with her friends, safe and secure just like he'd always wanted her to be. Looking down at the picture he held limply at his side he cursed himself for not being able to go back there, not being able to even tell her he was alive, letting two years pass without a sign of his existence. She asked about him, he knew that, he knew Rupert. He told Spike things that maybe he shouldn't have and Spike held things inside that he should have told him about, but the more Rupert told him that Buffy still asked about him the more he locked things away from peoples prying eyes, kept them inside for only her to know.
In this place it seems like such a shame
Though it all looks different now, I know it's still the same
Everywhere I look you're all I see
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be
He'd come to Bath because it was the one place in England where he'd lived as just the man and not the monster, only William had walked these streets, entered these buildings, only as a human and not as a vampire.
Rupert had told him so much, had helped him deal with things but didn't know why he was so changed, so altered, so badly screwed up inside, hollow and haunted. He didn't see the pain and the torture that came with sleep, he didn't see the suffering he had endured before he even made it to Bath, he didn't see the black hollow hell that ate him up inside with it's thousands of screaming voices telling him to go to eternal damnation. It tempted him, he could end it all and Buffy wouldn't know, or would she? Spike sat down and leant against the pillows on his bed, would she know if he crumbled to dust, like he'd know if something happened to her, he'd feel it deep in him. He couldn't bottle out, he'd come so far, changed himself so much to be a better man, the kind of man that she deserved, she had to know he was alive. Spike had instructed Rupert to keep her in the dark about his existence, he wasn't ready for her to know, wasn't ready to tell her all the things he'd done and wasn't ready for her to laugh at him, to think him a fool for believing it would make a difference to her and how she felt, he was beneath her. Clenching his jaw he scratched his nails hard down his chest, clawing at himself and flaring his nostrils as he stared at her picture. It burnt, it itched and it consumed him.
Come on tell me
You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I'm down to just one thing and I'm starting to scare myself
You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I just want something
I just want something I can never have
Pulling his hand away and staring at it as though he hadn't realised what he was doing Spike rubbed his thumb against his bloodied fingertips. Widening his eyes as he realised something he pulled her picture towards him, he needed forgiveness soon, he needed it before this burning inside his soul killed him. Looking at the calendar on the table beside him he frowned at the date, calculating slowly how long it had been since he'd seen her, since that night.
A thousand days had passed, a thousand days of burning, a thousand days of torture, a thousand days of suffering for his sins, a thousand days of fighting against the undercurrent, a thousand days without her and he couldn't face another one. It was time to face it, time to see if everything he'd done would make a difference, would make her forgive him.
Stumbling towards the desk he felt the fire in him, his spark of humanity igniting again, burning him to ashes. Screwing his face up as the images of a thousand dead people surfaced he managed to push them back down inside him, lock them away again. A thousand days of suffering was enough repentance for a thousand dead, now it was time to face the living.
Staring at the paper he picked up the pen in his left hand and swallowed hard. Trying not to think about what her reaction would be he pushed the nib onto the paper and his hand shook violently, setting her picture down beside him he grasped his wrist with his other hand and steadied it. This was going to take eternity, as he managed to write the letter 'B' the images came rushing back again and he broke down again, whimpering and sobbing her name. Sucking a breath in he steadied himself and scratched out the next letter…