(Set toward the end of "Him")
The train's whistle blew through him like a furnace blast. And he hated himself for it. He hated the unbidden memories of another railroad yard and other girls. Girls whose screams weren't quite drowned out by the trains.
He hated the way his body betrayed him. The way his mouth watered and his teeth ached at the memory of their blood. The way it made him second guess himself, leaving him standing by helplessly with Red and Harris as Buffy raced toward Dawn.
Bugger it all, I swear if a hair on Dawn's head is out of place, I will hunt the git down and rip his throat out. Surprisingly, his shiny new soul didn't put up much of a fuss at the idea. A refreshing change from the waves of guilt he felt when he looked at Dawn. One of the other unexpected side effects of getting a soul.
"Hey, Buffy Dudley Do-Righted Dawn!" Xander shouted.
Relief swept over him, followed closely by dread as the Summers women walked toward them. He knew Buffy would look everywhere but at him and he could handle that. But with Dawn, those eyes of hers were like the eyes of those angel figurines. They saw everything with too much clarity. And he didn't like what they saw. Plus, when he looked in those eyes he could see all the Dawn-like girls who'd perished at his hands. It was so hard to keep facing that. Maybe too hard.
Xander nudged him, "Let's say you and I take care of old RJ now."
Spike realized he must have quirked an eyebrow at Harris because he was talking again.
"Not like that Spike. Just get the jacket and destroy it. You think you can handle that?"
Spike nodded. This he could do. Maybe it'd get him a step closer to being the man who'd measure up to those eyes.
The train's whistle blew through him like a furnace blast. And he hated himself for it. He hated the unbidden memories of another railroad yard and other girls. Girls whose screams weren't quite drowned out by the trains.
He hated the way his body betrayed him. The way his mouth watered and his teeth ached at the memory of their blood. The way it made him second guess himself, leaving him standing by helplessly with Red and Harris as Buffy raced toward Dawn.
Bugger it all, I swear if a hair on Dawn's head is out of place, I will hunt the git down and rip his throat out. Surprisingly, his shiny new soul didn't put up much of a fuss at the idea. A refreshing change from the waves of guilt he felt when he looked at Dawn. One of the other unexpected side effects of getting a soul.
"Hey, Buffy Dudley Do-Righted Dawn!" Xander shouted.
Relief swept over him, followed closely by dread as the Summers women walked toward them. He knew Buffy would look everywhere but at him and he could handle that. But with Dawn, those eyes of hers were like the eyes of those angel figurines. They saw everything with too much clarity. And he didn't like what they saw. Plus, when he looked in those eyes he could see all the Dawn-like girls who'd perished at his hands. It was so hard to keep facing that. Maybe too hard.
Xander nudged him, "Let's say you and I take care of old RJ now."
Spike realized he must have quirked an eyebrow at Harris because he was talking again.
"Not like that Spike. Just get the jacket and destroy it. You think you can handle that?"
Spike nodded. This he could do. Maybe it'd get him a step closer to being the man who'd measure up to those eyes.