Disclaimer: Buffy and Spike both belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.They were selfish and unwilling to share so I'm writing this. Pathetic isn't it?
Summary: Spike muses on things...
A/N: This is my first fanfic EVER! Please be kind and press the review button when u're done reading...By the way, constructive criticisms are VERY VEYR welcome and desired. So read, enjoy(or at least try to), and hit that review button!!! Thanks. )
He loved her hair.
Golden silk that cascaded down her shoulders, every strand ending in delicate curls like the ones on porcelain dolls. It reminded him of sunshine and warmth and beauty. He dimly realizes that it was probably the closest to heaven he would ever get.
Sunlight.
It used to be a mere inconvenience. A necessary evil that prevented him from going wherever he pleased during the day, all of which was pretty damn ironic if he had anything to say about it.
Now, it seemed like salvation. To walk in the sun. To feel warmth, his heart beating, his lungs filling with needed breath.
To just live.
Oh, the things he would do for her. To be hers.
Ha.
He poured down the last of his beer and crushed the can before getting a new one near his couch.
All this was so sappy and poetic he couldn't help but remember William. A pathetic sod that was a pitiful excuse for a man. Dreaming of love and beauty, believing that the world was good and pure while the people mocked and ridiculed, and he was taken for a fool.
Then Drusilla came. His Princess, his dark goddess. She had been all black beauty, queen of the damned and all that. She had changed his world, changed him. From a fairytale land to lust in a dark alley, drinking sweet sweet blood, had tasted like fire burning sins that cared nothing for redemption.
He took a swig of beer.
Ah, those were the days and memories were clear and all in technicolor. The crimson days, she called it. Where angels fall in broken cries and making such beautiful music, their innocence and blood spilling in crimson jesses tangled in the hair of his lovely queen, stained in dark beauty and tainted by insanity.
And he loved her then.
His Princess, his goddess, his reason for existing.
Yea, he adored her and took care of her for a hundred twenty years till she left him for that sodding chaos demon.
She took Miss Edith with her.
Bloody loony bint.
Got into some trouble with the Slayer after that. You know, what with trying to kill her friends for love potions and things like that.
Shrugs
Couldn't kill her though. Godness knows he tried more than a couple of times but it seems there's always her friends and family to help her. Even got conked on the head with an axe by Joyce that one time.
Sigh. Keep the juice comin'.
He had a thing for Summers women.
Joyce, Dawn and Buffy.
"Buffy."
He loved the way her name rolled on his tongue. It sounded sacred. Beautiful. Pure.
All the things he was never meant to have.
More beer.
Hmm...world's going fuzzy now.
Good.
S'not like he needed her. He just loves her a little that's all. One girl wouldn't make a difference. Especially not a mortal girl. You know, vampires – eternity. Humans no, slayers – short life span. Too bloody short.
Oh, who was he kidding?
Another swig.
He loved her. He needed her. So much so he'd die for her. Go through hell for her.
Damn. Outta fluid.
Doesn't matter.
He's already drowning in gold.