Disclaimer: I don't own Spike because if I did...well, you'd never see him.
Title: No Point
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and self-abuse
Summary: Spike is in a dark place.
Author's Note: I know it's been done, but I was recently feeling like this and I wanted to write something.
What's the point of living when you don't feel alive? What's the point when everyone you know either hates and scorns you or ignores you? One William the Bloody thought about the questions and answered silently in his head. There was no point. If you had no family, no friends, a town full of demons that wanted you dead, a resurrected slayer using you, a sire that was a loony bint, and a grandsire that wanted to stake you, then you'd know, there was no point. Spike was a broken vampire. In both the literal and metaphorical sense. He couldn't feed. What kind of vampire couldn't hunt, feed, or kill? A broken one. He was also broken in the sense that he no longer cared. He gave up. Angelus would be surprised. He had tried to break Spike on several occasions and never once succeeded. And now here Spike was, broken and defeated by a warped town that sat on top of hell, literally.
He couldn't even feel anymore. At least he couldn't feel the multiple cuts that were scattered up and down his forearms. Spike laughed a humorless chuckle as he pulled the knife across his wrists. He couldn't feel any pain, and even if he did the cuts on his wrists wouldn't kill him. He was a vampire. A broken, sad, defeated vampire who was having suicidal thoughts. Angelus would be disgusted, but really when did Spike ever care what he thought? Tiny rivers of blood trickled down Spike's arms and splattered onto the ground. The drops made tiny sounds that sounded like a steady drumbeat to the depressed vampire. Finally satisfied with the cuts he had made, Spike put the knife down and picked up a bottle of whiskey that laid nearby. The alcohol burned going down and the blond man was content to feel something. He put down the alcohol and looked down at his arms to see they were already healing. Damn vampire constitution.
Spike sat and thought. He always was a thinker, no matter what everyone else thought. He did like to plan, but sometimes there wasn't time. But right now, he had time. An eternity of time. Another laugh escaped, but it was filled with grief. Thoughts flew through his mind, along side memories and regrets. What was the point of living? What was the point of staying in a town where he was hated and hunted? And once again Spike supplied the answer. There was no point. A sob like sound tore out of the vampire's throat. For the first time in one-hundred and twenty five years he felt like dying. No, that wasn't right, because he didn't feel like dying, he felt dead. Sure his body had stopped working one-hundred and twenty five years ago, but this was the first time he had felt dead. What was the point of living? Spike asked himself one more time. And he shuddered when he practically heard the whisper in the air. There was no point, not when you were already dead.
Man, I have some dark thoughts. Anyway review please.