A/N: I truly do apologize to all of you who are following this fic. I've just been plain lazy/exhausted from school, and I just haven't kept up my responsibilities to you lovely readers. Well, anyway, here is the last chapter. It's particularly angsty and quite crushing. Read, enjoy, sorry for the lateness and why not go ahead and leave a nice review!

When nothing else matters…

They were laughing. Laughing like disgusting kids in love. Then they were kissing. And he could feel his blood boil. He stood on the stairs and watched as the two approached. There were still oblivious to his prescence; God they were so into each other at the moment. As he continued to stare at them, all he could think of was 'why'?

"I'm really thinking about getting out of this thing. And you should totally get out with me."

"Spike," Julia cooed. "Do you think we can?"

"Sure I do…oh…um…hi, V. What are you, um, doing here?" Spike asked as he spotted Vicious.

"One could say the same for you, Spiegel."

Uh-oh, he called him 'Spiegel' in that cold tone. It was just like when they were starting out. Like when Vicious still didn't like him.

"Vicious…I'm sorry. It just kind of…happened," Julia began to reason.

"Right. Things like this always just always kind of…'happen'," Vicious replied quite snidely.

Vicious walked down the steps that lead to Julia's apartment, and brushed past the lovers.

"V, come on, let's talk about this!" Spike called to him, almost desperately.

"There's nothing to talk about," he replied without even turning around. "And don't bother to come home; you no longer have a home with me. You can pick up your things tomorrow while I'm out."

"Vicious, please. Stop!" Spike practically yelled as he grabbed his friend's arm.

"Don't you dare touch me!" Vicious screamed as he wrenched out of Spike's grasp.

"I'm sorry. Please, I truly am. Let's just…cool off and talk."

"I don't want to cool off. I don't want to talk," Vicious said to Spike as he stared him in the eyes. "It doesn't matter. You don't, she doesn't…I don't. Nothing. Nothing else matters."

Spike couldn't help but shiver from the coldness in his voice. And the hatred and hurt in his eyes was unbearable. For the first time in their almost four years of knowing each other, Spike looked away from Vicious, unable to look him in the eye any longer.

"From this day on, Spiegel, you and I are no longer friends. You are my enemy. You betrayed me and hurt me more than anyone ever could. I loved you the most, Spike. And now, I hate everything you are."

And with that, Vicious disappeared in the night.

I just don't know what's got into me.

Vicious sat on the beige leather couch, tears escaping his silver eyes. Silver eyes that had seen love and life. Silver eyes that fell cold and cruel and empty once again.

What in the hell was wrong with him? Why did he ever get attached to Spike? And why in the fuck did he ever fall for that damn broad. She was more trouble than she was worth. They both were.

He stared up at the ceiling, only to be called a douche. Actually, that damned sticker was staring down at him. Beyond upset, Vicious pulled out his gun and shot the damn ceiling right where the note stuck.

"Fuck!" he yelled, as he sank to the floor.

He hated feeling this way. He hated feeling so damn betrayed. It wasn't fair! How dare this happen to him. Why did he deserve this? Things were good. He had a friend most would die for, he had an amazing woman, and he had a good life. But that was the opportune word: had.

And what had Spike meant when he said he was "thinking about getting out of this"? Getting out of what? The syndicate? And if so, why would he ask her? Spike should have asked him! His best friend. Vicious would get out of the syndicate in a heartbeat. Things weren't as glamorous as he wanted it to be, and the Van wouldn't stop riding his ass every chance they got.

But now he saw just how much Spike cared for him. And that was not a lot. He took his girl, he took his friendship…he took everything.

Vicious wiped his tears and stood up. What did it matter, anyway? He never needed friends, he never need love and companionship. He didn't have it before, and he wouldn't have, and he definitely wouldn't need it now. He smirked to no one in particular as his heart became incased once more in that impenetrable block of ice.

Ha, love and companionship. He must have been out of his mind to have ever accepted such weakness in his life. He chuckled to himself as he poured a glass of vodka.

"God, I just don't know what got into me."

It's just a prayer for the dying…

As the days faded into weeks, Vicious immersed himself into his work. He heard a lot of people snickering and whispering about Spike and Julia…and himself. But he brushed it off…it didn't matter at all to him.

"Hey Vicious," Wade called to him as he sat at his desk.

"Wade," Vicious quietly acknowledged.

"You've been working pretty hard lately. Keep this up, and you'll work yourself to death."

"That wouldn't be so bad," Vicious thoughtfully pondered. "My prayers would finally be answered."

Wade looked at Vicious rather oddly. He was back to his cold, hard self again.

"Whatever you say, Vicious. I'll catch ya later."

"Yeah…just a prayer. What would I pray for, if I knew it would come true?" Vicious though once again after Wade had left. "I guess I'd wish for him back. He was the only one who ever seemed to care. But now I'm just talking crazy. I only wish him dead."

He felt a slight pang, as though he was lying. But Spike had betrayed him; it was as simple as that. And Vicioussimply would not stand for suchutter disregard for his feelings. But it still hurt, nonetheless.

"I've got to get out of here," Vicious said to himself.

He turned off the lights and headed out. He decided to go to Le Chate Dior. Perhaps the band would be playing some 'Lost Man Blues'. He really needed something to soothe his fading soul. He pulled his jacket tighter around him; it was starting to snow. He lit up a cigarette, blew some smoke towards the sky, and walked down the snow-flaked street. As he disappeared into the crowd, Vicious was, once again, a lost man in a truly lost world.

For the dying.

AND SO THIS ANGEL BEGINS
HIS DESCENT…

A/N: And so, that's the end of that. I really hope you all liked it. And I hope I got the point across that Vicious might not have been as bad as we thought he was. Through the pain of betrayal, I could see him becoming the crazed man we know best of all. I just hope I conveyed it. But enough of my explanations and grovelings...time for thank you's:

Franypants: thanks for letting me be a part of that 'lucky 30'!

Kate Spiegel: glad you saw Vicious as getting the shaft; it's what i tried to get across.

microfiber shoelaces: I really hope you enjoyed how this back story turned out.

BunnWw: glad to see that you enjoyed it.

Angie: thanks for the review and I hope I kept the ending smart...I really aimed for that.

TwiliteTiger: glad you enjoyed it!

and to my best reviewer: WaitingForYesterday, I can't thank you enough. It was definitely reassuring to hear from you every chapter to let me knowI should keep going. Thanks so much and I'm sorry for the long wait for this last chapter.

And to all of you who may not have reviewed, I still hope you enjoyed what I wrote. Now, one final thing: would you like to see me attempt another fic in this extended songfic style? I'm, pretty sure it'll be about Faye this time. Just let me know and I'll see what I can do. Thanks again and have an awesome day!