"Bleed For Me"

Time shows us that all that ever mattered,

All that ever mattered leaves us in the cold.

If you ever believe this is what you need

It will spin around and shatter

Throw you to the floor

As it leaves us in the cold.

And the dream you think I'm making

While the house I built is breaking…

I remember the train you came in on,

Everything I want kept calling.

I remember the chill that came over,

Everything I love went falling…

-Acceptance "In The Cold"

It had been a long time since he'd thought about anything like suicide. His immediate reaction was shock, but soon it melted away into agreement. Half of him couldn't believe he was thinking it, the other half was laughing because he was thinking it. With a sigh he leaned his head back against the wall, feeling the cold stone bleed through his skull and send a shiver down his spine.

"Got nothin' ta lose, now have I?" he mumbled out loud to no one in particular. The ghosts had left him for the time. They did that sometimes; they would leave him to think and pretend that they were gone. Then they would come hurtling back just as he was about to stand and walk up the stairs a few meters away.

"No, I guess that's true." Buffy said, close to his ear. Spike didn't turn toward the voice; he knew better than that now. He just pulled his knees a little tighter, a little closer and rested his head in his filthy hands.

"Please…"

"You can beg all you want, but it wont help you. Not after what you did." she hissed, still closer to him. He wanted to flinch away, or scoot closer to the corner he knew wasn't very far off. But, he wasn't too gone to judge the distance and he knew that 'close by' was too far away.

"Not begging. Done begging. Can't take back what I did, love. Can't put all the blood back even if I wanted to." he insisted, finally daring to look toward the voice. Buffy was crouched next to him, smirking and gazing at him with something akin to admiration. But it was all mockery. She didn't admire him.

"I'm sure you could if you really tried, Spike. But, I think that all depends on how much you're willing to bleed." she said sarcastically, looking down at him as she stood up. "But then again, monsters like you don't bleed."

"Bled for you before." he whispered, feeling the sting of tears aching at the edges of his eyes. Buffy snorted, strolling a few paces away from him.

"Not enough."

"Never enough."

"So why are you even trying?" she finally asked, squatting back down in front of him and looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"Always a reason." he said, letting the tears fall as he looked up and gazed into her eyes. They weren't real eyes, but they were the closest thing he had to her eyes and they would have to do. He managed a weak little laugh as he watched her expression fall suggestively. She smirked and cocked her head.

"So bleed for me, William." she whispered seductively. "You've got a chance to make it right. Put the blood back."

Spike closed his eyes again. The thought was tempting. Maybe if he cut himself open enough, They would take what they needed from him and leave him alone. Maybe if he drained away the pain, he wouldn't have to feel the ache.

"Yeah…alright…" he sighed, unfolding himself so that he was half standing against the wall.

"Bleed pretty for me." she said from across the room. Spike wasn't watching her, but he heard every word she said.

"Always bleed for you." he remembered, smiling at the memory of the real Buffy. "Always bleed pretty just for you." he let out a weak giggle. Briefly he wondered where it had come from…

His legs threatened to let him fall, but he willed strength from somewhere and found just enough to bite roughly through his wrist, letting a small trickle fall from the wound.

"Bleed for you…" he said softly, hoping Buffy heard him. A fleeting thought brought him the realization that Buffy never heard him, but that didn't stop him from opening the wound a little bit more with his teeth. Maybe he could make things right after all…

He glanced up at Buffy and watched her nod slightly. He nodded back in reply and cocked his head. The other wrist came instantly to his mouth and he ruthlessly chewed a hole in it as well. It still wasn't enough. The rivers of blood were still too small.

"Can't make them bigger." he whispered, hurtfully. Buffy shrugged.

"No, I guess you can't." she chuckled and was suddenly in front of him. "Monsters like you don't bleed anyway."

And she was gone. Just like that, she wasn't there anymore and Spike was alone. He glanced down at his wrists and saw his own hands coated in blood. For a moment he thought it was hers, but the ragged holes in his wrists reminded him that it was all his.

Tiny patters of blood hit the floor and began making patterns on the concrete as he shook and trembled. He thought about how to make the bleeding stop, but remembered that monsters like him don't bleed anyway and settled for spilling boneless to the floor. As he hit the wet concrete, his brain told him he was bleeding out too much.

His heart told him he wasn't bleeding enough.

Fin