----and the ending, I hope it is not too sad-----
He slept but I could gain no peace. I should have been able to, I should have stayed but something but something pulled at my near serenity. The Slayer. She felt like a threat to my black clad undead beautiful creature and myself. She felt like she needed to be hurt, a lot, with pain and agonizing death.
No one messes with Kit, I mused, I am the destroyer. One thought burnt all others at that moment lying beside a ruffled and resting Spike. Destroy.
Leaving him a note I quickly got dressed as the sun set again over New York. I flitted through the night, my senses scanned the crowds and I caught a whiff of her down a vacated subway entrance. I stalked down the graffiti station to find her waiting, stake drawn.
With a cocky flip of her head she huffed "I am going to enjoy this, I promise it won't hurt," she smiled, "Me."
I vamped, growled and lunged, but she was quick and back handed me and attempted a kill. I evaded by dropping beneath her arm and flipping her over, and she landed with a satisfying crunch.
Blows were blocked; punches flowed into kicks and flips. I was high off the adrenaline of blood, sex and violence.
I was not expecting that last kick. Before I could register her stake was protruding from my chest right beside my rosary. I had enough time to hear my name called in a crazed tone, to turn around and see Spike run towards me and try to catch me as I fell.
It was in that moment that I realized my greatest masterpiece.
My own death.
It was then that I became more then almost happy, to see that fire burning in his eyes. In truth I had never had a greater high, Had I ever asked for more? Did I ever ask for any of it?
I managed to say, "William" in a defeated whisper and see his devastated eyes before I exploded into millions of tiny bits of ash, which shimmered down as they fell to land on Spikes outstretched hands, and the crumbling concrete floor of that New York subway.
Before rising to face the Slayer he softly reached out to pick up the rosary from out of the whispering pile of dust, ignoring the pain.
He released to the primal side, fire burning in his eyes as he fought the Slyer onto a passing empty train. Lights flashed by and the vehicle shuddered and rumbled as if sensing the great battle waged between the two titans aboard.
Before the darkness and the tunnel, Spike had given up hope, but as soon the light fled he knew he had won.
The fear and defeat in her eyes before he snapped her neck gave him sad pleasure.
He ambled to the front of the train, pulled the emergency stop and halted only long enough to take the bitch's leather duster before hopping off the back of the train into the gritty dripping tunnel into darkness.
As he walked down the murky piers he re-read Kits letter. "Hey, I have something I have to do. You will be so proud of me and we will make the perfect team. The Slayer Killer's.
I know this will make things right. All I ever wanted was to destroy until I met you. Now all I want is you. Death is our art.
The world's a fucked up place so why can't we fuck it up a little more?
Aww, shit forget it, I am just almost happy. This will solve it, her death will make it right. I love you."
There were no tears in him. There rarely were. Arriving at a rotting pier over looking the skyline he sat and sobbed dry. Then, when calmed he stood as the sun rose, screamed a soul blackening sound and through Kit's rosary viciously out into the water. He did not look back as he left the docks, or even as he left New York. He never looked back.
And he never said my name again.
----I know I never mentioned Drusilla, but just pretend that they were fighting or that she does not exist. I know, I am evil, I killed Kit. She had to die though, make angst for Spike and room for Buff----- ps Comments give me happies....not herpies...lol