1. Chapter I

Chapter I

The center room was dank and filthy; filled with piles of shit and used syringes, torn couches were pushed against every whole covered wall. Junkies were spread across the room, coasting on their highs. Vampires were among them, feeding on willing humans, and getting paid to do it. It was a crack-house with a stench that could be smelt from miles away. The abandoned apartment complex was a place where no person in their right mind would go. Drugs of every type, every thing that a junkie would want to get a hold of was sold cheaply in the rooms. A little flesh was used for the exchange; they bartered their bodies…their blood, for their needs.

Spike sat on one of the couches, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other. It was his fifteenth bottle and he still wasn't intoxicated. Bloody hell, he screamed in his head, throwing the bottle against the wall across from him. The dirty whore flying high beside him jumped from her seat at the crash. Spike got up from the scummy couch and paced the room. What was he doing there? Has his life really sunk so low that it came to this?

He ran his fingers wildly through his vibrant blond hair, he needed to find a way out…a way to clear his head and forget everything. That was his plan these days, to score and forget everything. He needed something….anything. A crack-whore clumsily past him and he grabbed her by the throat. She tried to scream but no noise passed her severely chapped lips. He dug his hand in her pocket and took out a grimy plastic bag. It was caked in a fine white dust. Finally, he thought. He tossed her onto the couch and stormed out of the place.

He hated staying in grimy, stinky, dung infested rat-holes. It wasn't his ideal place to spend his nights…or his days. He stalked down the dark alley, free from the critter infested dump. The streets were damp from the rain earlier that day and his boots splashed through the puddles and potholes as he crossed the roads. He gripped the coke firmly in his hand; his knuckles grew whiter from the pressure. Finally he had something to take his mind off of things…off of her…off of everything that had gone wrong in his already shitty existence.

It took Spike longer than he thought to reach the dark motel situated on the outskirts of town. It didn't look or smell any different than the crack-house. He threw a hand full of bills at the desk manager and snatched the key off the table. He said nothing to the man as he past him and went up to the room he had just rented for the rest of the night and the next day. Spike wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind him. He just wanted to get this over with; he wanted to forget…forget everything.

He sat down at the little table. The chair rocked uneasily beneath him and it aggravated Spike. He didn't need the chair…he didn't need anything. He threw the baggie down on the table and grabbed the chair by its legs. Spike threw the chair angrily across the room and it smacked into the wall, breaking into pieces. He tore the top of the table off and tossed it onto the lice contaminated bed. The little white baggie bounced a little was but otherwise unharmed.

Spike crossed the room and kneeled in front of the bed, as if to pray, and took his head in his hands. His answer was in that baggie, just a line and everything will be better…for a while at least. He pulled the table-top toward him and picked up the baggie carefully. He poured a little bit of the powder on the table. The sweet white powder; it was the answer to his prayers. He searched his pockets for his tool…a cut straw. He tore through his pockets, but of course it wasn't there. Oh bloody hell, he yelled. He got up and punched the air…and the wall, leaving a nice huge hole in it. He tore through the old dresser drawers in search of something…anything. Then there they were, laying right next to each other, a razor blade and an empty pen tube. Spike snatched them up and flung himself onto his knees by the soiled bed.

He placed the pen and the blade gingerly next to the little pile of coke. Spike then took the blade and played with the cocaine for a while. He needed this, it was his saving grace. It's not like he hasn't done this before. It wasn't the worst thing he's done in a while. The lined up three lines of the mind-altering substance and looked at it. He let the sounds and the smells around him sink in for one last time before he began.

Spike picked up the pen tube and touched it to his nose. Finally his thoughts would be quelled; finally he would be able to think about something other than her….or his shitty existence. Leaning in closer to the table he snorted the first line in a second, before the drug could take effect he snorted the other two fine white lines faster than the first one. He fell backwards onto the flea infested grubby carpet. No more worrying about his shitty decisions in this shitty world of his. A half hour later Spike came down from his elating high, his head was burning and he wanted more…he needed more.

Spike took the blade again and lined up more lines, six this time. It took the rest of his coke but he lined them all up and snorted them, one after the other, by means of his inhuman speed. With a crooked smile pasted on his face he watched the sun rise through the moth eaten curtains from the confines of his grubby motel room.

His high passed quicker than he wanted and his head began to throb again. Spike wasn't done, he wanted more, and he wanted to forget everything forever. But he knew that was never going to happen. He was immortal and his curse was to live in this shit hole with these terrible thoughts and fucked-up memories. Maybe he should just stake himself right now, get it over with so he wouldn't have to die by someone else's hand. But in this place, this crappy place no one should ever be, did he really want to end his everlasting life here? His life was really not worth living anymore, he couldn't cause pain or misery anymore, and he can't kill. He used to live for the hunt but now he had to live on pig's blood and what the butcher threw out.

He crossed the room, faltering slightly he grabbed onto the door frame for support. Spike took his time going into the filthy bathroom. It looked like the place hadn't been cleaned since it was built. Spike felt his stomach convulse, he knew that the contents would soon show. Clenching his side, he fell over the toilet and vomited. This was how he spent his days. When he finished he pulled himself toward the sink and ran the water. It was chunky and brown; roaches scurried out of the faucet and crawled up the wall into the crack in the ceiling. Once the water ran clean Spike cleaned out his mouth and rinsed off his face. He turned his bloodshot eyes toward the mirror, he knew he wouldn't see anything there but for once he wished he did. He knew he looked horrid but he wanted to see how he changed over the years. Spike wanted to see what he looked like, he could barely remember…but wasn't that what he wanted? To forget?

He punched the mirror, sending a spider web of cracks throughout it. Just one more thing to put on his list of things he had broken that night…or morning…or whatever, day and night really had no relevance to him now. He retracted his hand from the broken mirror, it was bleeding, and shards of glass embedded his fist. Oh bollocks, he growled. Why did this have to happen to him? It really wasn't a big problem, he removed the glass from his hand and only seconds later this hand was mended. But still, self-rejuvenation didn't heal all of his scars…not all of the emotional ones at least.

Spike made his way slowly to the bed and flipped the table top quickly off of it. He sat down and shed his coat. He rolled over onto his side, pulled the gross blanket over his head and passed out from the exhaustion. Bugger, he thought to himself. He needed to get out of there, but where would he go at this time of day, not to another crack-house under cover of blanket to hide him from the suns harmful rays. He knew he needed help but did he want it? Who could…or would help him? He was straight evil, even though it was impossible for him to hurt living beings; he was still a killer, even though he couldn't kill. He closed his eyes tightly trying to clear his mind and get some rest. It's not like it would help, just because you can't see the problems doesn't mean they aren't there. Spike curled up into a ball and pulled the blankets around him tighter; maybe he should just walk out into the sun light. Then he wouldn't ever have to see her again…let alone think about her.

It was her fault he was in this mess anyway. I'm not underneath her, he thought. What makes her think she's better than me anyway? So what if she's human that doesn't mean a bloody thing. I could make her happy, if she would just give it a chance. He rolled over on his back and looked at the water-spotted ceiling; I need to get out of here. He wished that he had a clock, someway of telling time. He knew it was daylight from looking out the window and that would hinder any progress that he would have wanted to make. He just had to stay put until the sun set. He closed his eyes again and rolled over; he cleared his head of anything that was unpleasant at the moment, which was everything, and tried to get some sort of rest.


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

He tossed and turned all day, the blanket got wrapped up around him and he tried to wriggle out of it but found himself stuck. Spike stretched and ripped the covers down the middle. He sat up and threw the scraps on the floor. The sun was just setting and it gave a sickly orange glow to the room. He groaned, Spikes head was throbbing and he needed to do something…anything. He needed to kill something, but what?

Spike stood up, swaying where he stood, and walked into the bathroom. He looked into the broken mirror and found nothing…no reflection, no sign of his menial existence. He needed to _do_ something. _Argh_, he growled, went back to the bed and grabbed his old leather coat. He needed to get out of this dump…go away from this place…go somewhere…anywhere. Spike grabbed a piece of the broken chair, it was sharp and it was what he needed. He yanked open the door and stormed out of the room, he needed to hunt…to kill.

The city was filled with the stench of decay and death. The streets were littered with the homeless and the crazy mumbling to themselves, peddling for money. Spike passed them all without a glance, they were nothing to him. He strutted down the road, past the Cineplex towards the cemetery. He knew that he would find some solace there. Spike clutched the sharp wooden post in his hand, he was going to do some damage to something, but first he had to find a vampire…a demon…something evil to sink his teeth into.

Spike stalked into the dimly lit cemetery, he was ready to get rid off all his bottled up anger and rage. He ripped off a tree branch as he past and broke it into little pieces, anything to get rid of his anger. He strode past headstone after headstone, patrolling through the crypts and coliseums. There was no sign of anything….no demons….no vampires. Spike kicked a headstone near him and cracked it down the middle, and then he saw it. There was a creature stalking through the shadows, Spike made his way toward it, the hand with the stake in it was at his side. Finally, he thought. Something I can sink my teeth into.

He got closer to it and stopped, the vampire was only a few feet away but Spike leaned against the wall of the crypt. "You sodding git, what do you think you're doing?" He said loud enough for it to hear him. Growling maniacally, the vampire faced and looked at him for a second, and then it rushed at him.

Spike grabbed the running vampire by the collar of his shirt and tossed him onto the ground. The vampire jumped back up and hit Spike in the side of the head. "Owe!" Spike yelled, "You bloody wanker." He spun the dirty vampire around and threw him up against the crypt wall. They struggled, the vampire tired to hit back but Spike was too strong for him. Spike took the stake and stabbed the vampire a few times before finishing him off with a blow to the heart. Dust showered Spike from head to foot. Now he felt a lot better, he did something good for the world… one less bloody parasite.

"What are you doing Spike?" Spike turned around and found himself staring at her…why did she have to be here, of all the sodding people in the world why did it have to be the one he was trying to forget?

"What do you think I'm doing pet?" he replied angrily, "I'm burning off some pent up rage. Want to have a go?" He walked slowly to her; the wind caught her scent and blew it toward him. He caught himself taking in her golden locks and dazzling green eyes, although there was a frown on her face. There was always a frown on her face when she was talking to him. Spike dusted himself off and took another step to her. She took a step back, folding her arms over her chest.

"No Spike," She retorted aggressively, "I do not want to have a go. You're not worth my time."

"Of course I'm not worth your time," Spike screamed at her. "I'm below you, remember. I'm not worth anything to you." He dramatically spread his arms, giving her the opening that she needed to kill him. "Stake me now you sodding bint! Just do it now!" He yelled at her, his face grew white with rage. Why wouldn't she finish him? Why did she think she was so self-righteous but she wouldn't even kill him…a vampire. "Do it! Just finish me." He pounded his fists into the ground. He could feel himself starting to cry, his eyes burned from his stubborn attempt to quell the tears.

"You're pathetic Spike." She replied solemnly. "You are completely and utterly pathetic."

"I'm pathetic?" Spike shouted at her, "Sod off! Get away from me. If you won't stake me then leave me to my shitty existence. Let me live the rest of my eternity in total misery." He picked himself up off the ground and stalked past her, pushing her out of the way. Why did she have to be like that, he thought. So cold…so distant. She wasn't always that way; didn't they used to have something special? Spike yanked open the door to his crypt and stepped into the darkness. Just when he almost forgot her she shows up and ruins it…she ruins everything he works hard to achieve. Spike plopped himself down in his plushy recliner and grabbed a bottle, filled with a burgundy liquid, from the mini-fridge next to it.

Blood was essential; it kept him strong and able to heal extremely fast. Spike was a typical blood craving fiend; but, he could no longer hurt those he used to feed on, unless they offered themselves to him. Now he was stuck drinking pig's blood, or anything he could get cheap from the local butcher. He used to be feared…powerful. I was the big bad, he thought. Now I'm nothing….I can't even call myself a vampire anymore. He grimaced at the bottle and then downed it in one gulp. His hunger was quenched….for now.

A loud pounding noise echoed throughout the crypt, there was someone one at the door. Who could it possibly be now? For a fraction of a second he wished it was her, maybe she was coming back to him…to apologize for being such a sodding bint. He laughed at this ridiculous thought. Of course she wouldn't do that, she was perfect…and he was the bad one. "Come on in," he yelled at the door.

He watched the woman enter, he'd seen her before but he couldn't place it. Her red hair was a mess, falling in tangled locks at her shoulders. She was tall and unnaturally skinny…a junkie. Her shirt hung lifelessly from torso, her pants were tight black leather. She walked uneasily across the dirt floor and stopped in front of Spike, a coy smile on her face.

"What do you want, you smashed bint?" Spike criticized, she was what he wanted to be.

"I want you," she whispered sultrily, she bit her chapped lip, "Bite me." She came closer to him, boxing him in the chair. She pulled herself onto his lap and slowly offered her neck to him. Spike could see the marks of past bites, and the scars that covered her arms and chest. He met her bloodshot hazel eyes and smiled, fangs showing.

"What do I get pet?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her skinny frame and pulling her closer to him. She ran her fingertips lightly over his arm before digging her hand into her pocket. She pulled out a plastic bag filled with white powder, yellow rocks and miscellaneous pills, all separated in their own little baggies. Spike snatched the bag out of her feeble hand and pocketed it. She wouldn't miss any of these.

"Those and anything else you can think of." She drew out the words, looking at him. Her eyes traced down his chest to his lap. Spike could feel himself throbbing and growing in his pants. She ran her hand over the crotch of his pants and to his waistband. She wriggled her fingers around the button and unzipped his pants slowly. Spike laid his head back and relaxed as the girl worked with her mouth, up and down, rubbing her tongue back and forth along his engorged member. He wound his fingers in her hair, jerking her head around. His eyes closed and his head rolled back, she really knew what she was doing. He almost imagined golden hair and green eyes but shook the thought out of his mind. She was worth nothing to him.

Spike could feel himself getting off; it's been a while since he had someone else doing this for him. She kept at it, up and down, in a constant motion. She moaned a little as she felt him pulse in her mouth. Spike didn't feel this good in a while; female companionship…good female companionship was hard enough for him to come by. Spike groaned; he knew his peak was coming and he didn't want this to end. He didn't know when something of this magnitude would find him again. He came in her mouth, bursting hot and heavy as she swallowed him up. Her eyes turned up toward him and she smiled hungrily.

"Now it's your turn," she said quietly to him. The girl grabbed Spike's huge cock and rubbed her hand up and down, drying away her saliva. She tucked him back inside his pants, and pulled herself back onto his lap and moved her hair off of her shoulder. Spike yanked her to him and she gave a small cry in alarm. He sank his teeth into her neck, waiting for the pain…but because she was willing it never came. She pressed her hands flat against his chest and sighed; a moan escaped her chapped lips. Spike could taste the sweet drug laced blood, he could feel it fill his mouth. He could savor the crank and the heroin that she had used previously.

He drank until he felt her heart beat slow down, after he finish he shoved her off his lap and pointed toward the door. "You can find the door luv," he stated. She got up gradually and started toward the door. "Ay, pet," Spike said loudly turning around in his seat to look at her. "What's your name…Just in case we want to do this again?"

"You already know me Spike," she replied with a soft smile, her pupils were dilated and her eyes, bloodshot. She strolled out of Spike's crypt and shut the door quickly behind her.

Spike leaned his chair back and stretched his arms up over his head. He already knew her? The only person that he could think of that looked similar was…oh bloody hell it couldn't be...Could it? Spike ran his fingers through his hair. Was it really Willow?


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

Spike couldn't believe it, was he just going crazy? That really couldn't have been Willow…was it? What happened to her? The last time he had seen her she was with Tara…and happy. Something bad must have happened to have her living like him…a really shitty life. Spike pulled the bag out of his pocket and examined it, how did she have the money for all of this good shit. Separated between bags was about an eighth of crank, three crack rocks, ten xanax, ten vicadon and fourteen klonopin. All of that was worth ore to Spike than a blow job and a bleeding, but a junkie will do anything for a fix.

Spike walked over to his trap door and opened it; he slid gracefully down the ladder and into his dimly lit grotto. He past his bed and came to a table, he placed the bag on the table and went over to a pile of boxes. He knew his pipe was in here somewhere, he hadn't used it in a while so he put it away, and now he had to look for the bleeding thing. He searched through box after box of all his shit; random things he picked up, stolen or otherwise, because he liked them. There were items from all places…and all times. Spike scowled, where could he have put that damn thing? He smacked himself in the forehead for being stupid and crossed the room to his spider-web covered dresser. He opened the top drawer and there it was, laying there in the dust. "There you are my pet," he cooed at the small instrument. He walked slowly back over to the table and sat down. Spike gingerly place the pipe back down and picked up the bag. He pulled everything out and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Naughty naughty," a quiet voice said from the shadows. "What did I tell you about all those naughty things pet?" Her voice was musical…entrancing, but she didn't seem to be all there. Spike face was frozen in confusion. Did this really have to be happening to him? So many things have gone wrong in such a short period of time he didn't think it could get worse…but of course everything always does.

He watched as Drusilla strolled out from the shadow. She wore a long lacey black dress where the neck line was stunningly low, her black hair was tied back and she had a scar on the side of her face. She held a doll close to her chest; its eyes were covered by a purple silk cloth. Spike still watched as the female vampire came closer to him. What was it about her that had Spike frozen? They had been together for almost one-hundred and twenty years but still she amazed him, even after being gone for about a decade she still surprised him. Drusilla stopped a foot from Spike and reached out her hand, she placed her hand on his cheek. Smiling, she traced her fingertips along his cheek bone and down the side of his face.

Spike grabbed her hand and wrenched it away from his face. She was gone for a decade and now she decides to show her face. What makes now such a good time for the mighty Drusilla to come back to such a lowly thing like Spike? "Dru," he snarled. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come back for you Luv," her eyes were daft and they found Spike's angry ones. "I've missed you."

"Bollocks," Spike replied, rolling his eyes. "That's why you ran off with that Chaos demon."

She seemed to drift away, but only for a second. "That was only a phase William darling, but I'm here now. I'm here to fix you like you fixed me."

"I bloody well doubt that." He scoffed. "I know you want something, you always do. I want no part in what you're planning. Sod off you daft bird."

"Poor Spiky with the Chipy chip in his brain, can't hunt…can't hurt…can't kill. No more fresh humans in your belly. Old William's no longer bloody. I've come to help you pet, out of the goodness of my little black heart."

"Dru, you can't help me, the chips gone but the pain…its still there. It hurts pet…you can't even imagine," Spike replied taking a seat on his bed. Drusilla seated herself slowly beside him.

"My poor prince, I've found a cure for the hot electricity in your head…burning…zapping….frying your brain. I've come back to save you," She smiled at him.

"How?" Spike questioned, "I've tried everything….I've looked everywhere."

"You're my bad, bad dog Spiky, they think they can control you luv, but they can't. You're my big bad." Drusilla said quietly insane. She was never really all there.

"What do we have to do? I want my life back, I'm worthless the way I am now. I can't even call myself a vampire anymore and being good…well it's so bloody overrated. I want to hear screaming and humans crying out for mercy as I drink them dry. I want to cause pain and get rid of my own, I'm fucking tired of this," Spike stated furiously…almost pleading. His life had no excitement to it anymore, he wanted to be bad…to kill…to hurt…to hunt. He was ready for his life back.

Drusilla stood up and walked over to the table where Spike had lain out all of is drugs. She picked through them, examining all of their contents. Spike came up behind her and grabbed her around the waist. "What is it pet? What do I need to do?"

"My pretty little prince, it's all in that brain of yours. It's all in your mind, and the only cure is death," she giggled, rocking back and forth with her doll in her hands. "Causing death, creating it. I can smell it pet, it's so…revolting."

Spike furrowed his brows at her, death was his cure, but he was already dead. He couldn't cause death because the pain was completely unbearable. Drusilla couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. "Dru, what do you mean?" Spike was starting to get impatient.

"The past…the present…the future, everything is caused by death. Death is our way, and death will be your cure." She grabbed his hand and pulled him after her toward the ladder. "He is here… I've brought him to help you."

"Brought who Luv?"

"Death of course."


	4. Chapter IV

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, Please read and review. I'd love to know what you think about my writing.

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Chapter IV

Spike stopped and looked at Drusilla. How could she bring death into his crypt? He ran his fingers through his hair and shoved them into his jean pockets. "You brought death?"

"Only for you…the world is ours. Sweet suffering will soon come…time to get the cold blue pain out from under your hair," she said, she clenched her doll to her chest. "My sweet, darling Spike." Dropping his hand, she climbed up the ladder and beckoned him to follow. Spike was petrified, he was completely ready to get his life back, but Drusilla brought death. Wait, he thought. Maybe she means something different. Drusilla was a very disturbed person, maybe she didn't know what she was talking about. He walked back over to the table and grabbed half of his klonopin. He crushed them in his hand, turning them into a fine powdery blue, and snorted them off his fingers with inhuman speed. Within seconds, all of the fine particles were in his system. By the time he climbed up the ladder, he was feeling a bit better. He head was slightly spinning, it wasn't cocaine but it was something.

Spike pulled himself out of the grotto and walked over to his recliner. He sat himself down, he watched Drusilla in the corner. She was kneeling and talking to the shadows. He gave her a quizzical look and ran his finger through his hair once again. "So," Spike was aggravated. "Where's death…I see no one."

Drusilla stood up and twisted around, she walked back over to Spike and sat on his lap. Drusilla smiled and ran her fingertips down the side of Spike's face. "My prince," she whispered. "Don't fret or you'll scare little death away." She turned her head toward the shadows and spoke to the darkness. "Come here my princess…my harbinger of the coming chaos…my sweet little thing."

Spike smiled awkwardly, the pills were taking their effect slowly, and he felt tired and increasingly content as time went…oh so slowly…on. He watched attentively as a little girl, no older than six or seven, worked her way over to the couple. She had blonde hair in long ringlets at her shoulders. She had on a puffy dark purple dress that matched her lively violet eyes. To Spike, they seemed out of place on her young angel face. As if she knew and had already seen the end of humanity, she had a grim expression on her face as she stood in front of Spike and Drusilla. She neither blinked no wavered her eyesight from his pale face.

"This, my dear, is your calling." Drusilla said, breaking the silence. She turned her words to Spike. "I could hear her thoughts, magical…mystical…she was meant to do this for you. It was what she was created for." Drusilla's words were slow. The girl's small face shifted from Drusilla's to Spike's. He didn't know what she was but he could feel her power. He could smell the hatred and the contempt on her. Spike could see that she already knows…everything…she could do anything.

"You…girl…you can take this pain away?" Spike stated as he leaned in closer to her. She nodded in response, confident in her own power.

"Vampire…I can do it, but nothing in this world is free." Her voice was strong and unwavering; it was not the voice of a little girl. Spike felt the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. There was something about the girl that was unnatural. She seemed to have some sway over him. "I don't care," Spike said through clenched teeth, his eyes were half-way closed. He felt like he could do anything, but he didn't want to move. "Do whatever you bloody well have to stop the sodding pain."

The little girl stepped closer to him and reached out her hand. She placed in over Spike's heart, a blue sort of energy flowed from the petite child into his body. It was unimaginably painful, Spike felt as if his mind and his insides were being cut from his body slowly by white-hot knives. His kin felt as if had been torn off and he had been dipped in a vat of salt. He wanted to yell out in pain but he couldn't make a sound. He tensed his muscles and he clawed at the chair with all of his strength. The little girl kept calm, his thrashing did nothing to sway her concentration. Drusilla kept a calm face and tried to quiet Spike down. She held him in his recliner to prevent him from ruining the process.

The girl traced her fingertips from his heart, up past his temple, to the top of his head. The blue light turned white and started flowing into his body and Spike felt like his head was going to explode. The drugs quelled most of the pain now as they coursed through his system but the pain was still red hot. He needed a cigarette…some heroin, or morphine. The pain was a thousand times worse than every harming an innocent. He wanted it to stop. As fast as it began, the little girl removed her hand and the rest of the light was absorbed into Spike. She took a small step back and let Spike go. Breathing heavily, he fell back into his chair.

"I will collect my price," she said, and then she was gone, dissipated into thin air.

Drusilla stood up and gazed at him. Spike slouched in his chair; the lingering pain gave him a splitting headache, he rested his head on the back of the recliner and closed his eyes. He let the meds run their course to clear his mind, and he blinked a couple times to clear his foggy vision. He looked toward Drusilla and smiled manically, his face started to contort and he showed his true self. He was ready to cause pain…chaos. The world was now his to do with what he wished.

"Let's go luv," Spike said, "I'm ready to do some damage." He grabbed Drusilla by the side and jerked her toward him. He crushed his lips on hers, he kissed her hard…hot. He could feel her against him pushing her body hard into him; she ran her fingers down his chest. He pushed Drusilla into the dirty wall; he ran one hand roughly down her thigh and the other one clenched her hand, she entwined his fingers with her own. Drusilla stopped the embrace and ran a finger down his chest. "Welcome back my pet,"

She pulled him after her toward the door, and out into the dark crisp air. It was a new night, the process had taken longer than Spike had realized. He didn't care though…about anything for such a long time. Her voice was stuck in his head, as the last thing she had ever said to him, "Neither vampire nor human…you're nothing…just a thing, an evil thing….you'll never be anything. You're a monster…that's all you'll ever be." Now he can show her…kill her. Spike was himself again, and he was ready to take her on.

"Let's kill something Dru," Spike smiled madly.

"Death smells so sweet…harming…hunting…killing my Spike is back to his old ways. Watch out for the big bad wolf little piggy's." Drusilla sang, and she twirled around with her arms out stretched looking toward the sky. Spike watched her as he stuck to the shadows behind her; they left the dark cemetery walking arm in arm.

The couple walked down the streets, they watched as humans went about their business, running home after their late nights. Drusilla pointed out a young girl, not even seventeen, with brown hair and clear skin walking with her arms full of books. Spike could smell the humanity on her…the innocence...she reeked of it. Her face showed of panic and desertion. Drusilla gave Spike a little push in her direction and he shot her an angry glance, but started to follow her anyway. Spike knew she could feel him behind her, following her…stalking her. He could smell her dread…her fright and laughed frigidly, his voice ricocheted off the tall brick building walls. He had her cornered in a dank alley and he knew that she knew that her life was about to be over…that she was going to die.

"Hello pet," Spike said quietly. The girl jumped in fright. "I'm sorry sir, but…but I appear…I seem to be lost, if you could—"

"Don't fret pet, this won't hurt you a bit." Drusilla interrupted.

"No? This is going to hurt you though." Spike turned around and saw her….the slayer. Was it really her? He stared at her…wishing it wasn't her, it couldn't be her. It wasn't…it couldn't be her golden hair or her dazzling green eyes. He never wanted to see her again…but it would be impossible.

She kicked at Drusilla, throwing her away from the scared teen. "Run," she yelled. Her voice even sounded the same, but it could only be Spike's mind playing tricks on him. He needed an escape...he needed to kill something. He was going to kill her. "Buffy?" he questioned her, he knew that she loathed him…she wanted nothing to do with him…ever. The girl looked at him like he was crazy which gave Drusilla the chance to punch her in the face and knock her backwards. She grabbed the slayer by her hair and twisted her around. Then Drusilla gripped her by the shoulders and held her tightly to her chest. Spike watched the struggle, his mind was still on Buffy, she seemed different some how. She wasn't the same…she wasn't Buffy. Spike blinked and the image he saw became blurry.

Drusilla sank her teeth into the slayer's neck; Spike smelt the metallic scent of the blood he saw running down her collarbone. He wanted it…needed it but he couldn't do anything. The chip's influence was gone, he could feel that, and he could cause pain…misery, but he didn't want to. He looked from the struggling girl to Drusilla and her voice echoed in his head. _'Neither human nor vampire…' _He walked slowly over to them; Drusilla had almost finished her off when he took the stake from the girl's hand.

He leaned into her as if going to drink from her and looked into her eyes. She was angry….furious at herself for losing….furious at him for taking to long. He looked at her and realized her eyes weren't green they were golden and her hair wasn't blonde it was black. She smelled of slayer but she wasn't _the_ slayer…she wasn't Buffy. Then the memoires returned to him. Buffy's death…Willow's downward spiral and her mad craving for power, her need for Rak…Xander and Anya's' ruined wedding and her return to her old vengeful ways…Dawn's multiple suicide attempts…Giles' total sense of failure. How could he have forgotten everything? Could that have been so long ago?

He gripped the stake firmly in his hand and met Drusilla's eyes, he needed to kill something and it was her fault he was this way to begin with. He could feel tears burning in his eyes, he took the stake and thrust it through Drusilla's heart. She turned to dust before his very eyes and the girl collapsed in his arms. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around the slayer's neck to quell the bleeding. Spike needed to get her help, the first thought that came to his mind: Magic Box.


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

Spike cradled the girl the girl in his arms. Holding the girl tightly to his chest, he sprinted toward the Magic Box. He could see the sun rising behind it and knew that he had to hurry before he would burst into flames. He glanced down at the girl as he trotted toward the store, she appeared to be sleeping but he knew that she was unconscious. He reached the Magic Box just to realize that someone had boarded up the doors and windows. Spike needed to get inside but he would have to find an alternate entrance. He ran through the alley to the back door, and kicked it in. He walked over to the table and placed the girl down on it. H paced the room, replacing the door and tearing books off the shelves. He needed to find something…anything to help her. Spike couldn't comprehend why he was helping her…why he had killed Drusilla…why he wasn't back in his crypt finishing off what he had received earlier. He could feel something radiating of her…some sort of attraction but he didn't know why.

He scanned the shelves for a book…any book, with healing spells and incantations. He searched, pushing books out of his way as he went until he found one. "Healing for Beginners: Small Wounds (Cuts and Bruises),he tore the book off the shelf and sprinted to the table, Spike flipped rapidly through the pages for a spell…something to help her…anything, an incantation…invocation for puncture wounds. He was relieved when he found one, a prayer to the goddess. Spike recklessly gathered all the ingredients needed causing a mess in his wake. Spike quickly grabbed a sage stick from a shelf, three small white candles, and a larger blue one and purple one from the counter. On his way back to the table, he picked up an emerald.

Spike plucked his lighter from his pocket, lit the three white candles first, and placed them around the slayers head. He read the invocation a few times before speaking it aloud, "Goddess of healing hear my pleas. Heal her wounds, so mote it be." Spike waved the lit the stick of sage over her neck and body before saying the next lines. "Work your magiks, set her pain free. Heal her wounds, so mote it be." He saw her eyelids flutter and realized it was working. He took the emerald and held it over the flame. "Goddess of healing, when this flame burns green. Heal her wounds, so mote it be."

He sat still, holding the emerald over the flame and repeating the last line over and over again in his head. He couldn't lose her, there was something about her that entranced him. He watched as the flame slowly turned from orange to emerald. Its shade turned darker with each passing second. Spike's hand began to singe and he dropped the crystal.

He unwrapped the cloth carefully from the slayer's neck. There was a pale scar from where Drusilla savagely tore at her throat but the wound had stopped bleeding and had closed almost completely. She began to stir. Spike was relieved, he whispered, his thanks to the goddess and blew out the candles. He reached into his pockets and pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds, he withdrew one and lit it. The girl's eyelids fluttered, she slowly opened her eyes and looked right into Spike's icy blues. She frowned and slowly moved to sit up, her eyes were cold…frigid. They chilled Spike's already cold skin. She crossed her arms rigidly across her chest and hopped off the table. She was agile and swift; she calculated all her movements precisely. Taking a drag off his cigarette, he sat down and watched her. This young girl entranced Spike.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Anger lanced her tone. "Why did you save me?" Her pale skin, which glowed ghostly in the dim light, and her angry manner aroused Spike. Was that all he felt for her, he pictured himself jumping on top of her and running his hands over her body. Her clothes were frayed and dirty but also clung to her toned frame, showing off her physique. She had on a tight black band-tee, with a frayed bottom that showed off her mid-drift. Her pants were dark purple and very taut, rips and holes seemed to cover more of her legs than cloth. Her pants tucked into black leather knee-high boots, which were worn from everyday use. She had thick dark brown curly hair that sat on her shoulders. Her face showed anger but Spike could see something underneath. Spike could see she was tired of her life…fighting…demons…vamps…she just wanted an end. Spike now knew why she gave up against Drusilla, this girl wanted to die. But why?

He knew there had to be something more about her…something deeper. "Who are you?" he asked, he walked over and cornered her in the chair. His face was only inches from her. She kept her eyes on his, there was no fear in her face.

"Me? Who are you? Either kill me or let me go!" she exclaimed. "You either are a creepy pervy vamp or not a very good one."

"You must have a bleeding death wish." He yelled at her and threw his cigarette down on the ground, grinding into the floor with the toe of his boot.

Her face softened, "Spike?" she asked. "Is that really you?" She looked at him but didn't wait for a response before jumping up and wrapping her arms around him. He had no idea who this girl was…well at least he couldn't remember. He stiffened and retracted himself from her grip. She jumped back, her pale face turned red and she smelt of shame.

"You know me pet, but I don't know you. What's your name?" Spike gave her a quizzical look. She did look familiar, maybe that's the reason he had to save her…maybe she was his answer.

She looked at him, hesitating, she said," My name?" he nodded. "My name is Marla…Marla de Sangroi." She sat down and grabbed Spike's pack of cigarettes off the table, she withdrew one and lit it. "You probably don't remember me, I was only ten the last time we saw each other. It was before everything went chaotic…it was before Buffy, well…left. I know you guys were close and I'm sorry for the loss. Then everything went wrong." Marla's voice became solemn and quiet. "Everyone fell apart."

Spike gripped her arm below the elbow and pulled her closer to him. "I know…I was so wrapped up in my own bleeding misery that I didn't see what was happening around me. I didn't care about anyone anymore…nothing mattered to me. I just wanted to block out reality. I wanted an end but I was to weak to do it myself I could have done something if I had just pulled myself together."

"No," Marla spit at him. "You loathed them because they loathed you…you would never have helped them. I didn't and I'm supposed to be the slayer. I hated them for pushing me so hard after she passed…it was too much for me…I just left and I really shouldn't have."

Her face was cold…distant. Spike looked her over, his eyes drifted down to her pale arms. Cuts and faint pink scars criss-crossed her bare skin, there were cigarette burns and smileys on her forearms, some were fresh. He watched as Marla puffed on her cigarette; she kept her eyes on the far wall, Spike could see that she was thinking…brooding.

"You must really have a death wish." Spike stated, his voice was absent of emotion. She blinked back into reality and looked own at her arms. Marla frowned and took a longer drag on her cigarette, "So what," anger still laced her tongue, "Death has to be better than this…pain is freeing…it helps me feel something…control something in my shitty life. You, on the other hand, wouldn't know anything about feeling…you are just a creature…cold…unliving."

"Shut up!" Spike growled at Marla, he grabbed her arm and yanked her into him, twisting her limb behind her. Their faces were only inches apart; he could feel her warm breath on his neck and smell her fear…and hatred.

"You think you know me? I'm a creature to you…just a sodding beast. If you think death is so bloody appealing—"

"Just do it," she yelled at him, her tear-filled eyes locked onto his angry blues. "Kill me!" She was so helpless in his grip, he could take her there and then, but she wasn't struggling. He wanted her to struggle; he wanted to show her that death came with a price. Marla was going to be his, he was going to keep her in exchange for Drusilla. It was her fault anyway, and now she was going to be his. Marla owed him, Spike had been so alone for so long and he was done with it. She was going to be his, but first he would make her want him…to need him. Spike would show her the cost.


	6. Chapter VI

Thanks for sticking with me, all of you that have read everything untill this point. I haven't been getting any reviews and they would really help me out so if you will please review my story it will be appreciated. Just tell me what you think and what you think i should change or add or any iudea that would make the story better, It doens't have to be all good beacuse constructive critisizem is acceptable too. So with that, Read...Review...Enjoy, but maybe not always in that order.

~Bleeding-Martyr~

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Chapter VI

As if she was diseased, Spike dropped her arm and gave her a disgusted look. She fell to the floor, tears streaming down her face. Spike kneeled next to her and grabbed her face in his hand, "If you want death, I'll give it to you. You're going to beg for it." Spike kissed her forehead and stood up, he took of for the cellar door.

"Give it to me now, I'm begging for it. I want it, I don't want to live anymore." She yelled at him but Spike didn't acknowledge her. He didn't look at her but he knew she was huddled on the floor crying.

He was going to make her come to him, to beg him to end her menial existence and when she thinks it's over he's going to make her his. He needed company; sitting in his own dark dank grave no longer interested Spike. He was going to dig up his old funds and travel the world again, only this time instead of crazy Dru it would be Marla at his side. There was something about Marla, an attraction…an eternal bond…Drusilla was just the means of finding her…his soul mate. But first he was going to cut everyone out of her life…all her ties to the living…starting with dear old Xander and Anya. Spike smiled; finally, he was up to his old tricks again.

Spike travelled through the tunnels underneath Sunnydale, he remembered, but tried not to, all the things that had happened down there. He frowned, his memoires weren't very good…very happy. Hiding from the sun…people that wanted him dead, The Slayer. But the new slayer would be his, she would be his everything as he would be hers. First, he had to get her to beg for it…to want it so badly death was her only answer.

The tunnels curved and wound under the streets, Spike knew where he was in the darkness because he had travelled the road many times, plus demons had started putting up road signs. Spike could see the sun through the sewer grate. Xander and Anya's apartment was above him but he couldn't go above ground yet, he would have to wait. He sat in the shadows and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. A small white packet fell out as he pulled out his pack. He picked it up and smiled, he thought he lost it weeks ago. Finally something to take his mind off things…a little pouch of crank.

He withdrew a cigarette from his pack and lit it, his crank could wait a little longer. He took a long drag from it, inhaling the nicotine like his oxygen, he could feel it hit his blood stream quickly. His headache ceased but there was still a little throbbing in the bad of his mind, something the nicotine could fix. He needed blood, sweet and metallic...it had been a long while since he had anything to eat. His thoughts wandered back to Xander and Anya, and then he remembered Dawn lived with them. His stomach growled and he knew that she would fill it up quite nicely. Spike had other plans for the couple, he was going to rebuild his family, starting with them and ending with Marla.

He took another drag from his cigarette and blew out the smoke in rings, Spike watched as the smoke vanished in the clammy air. The vampire extracted the crank from his pocket another time. He turned the little baggie around in his hands and finished off his cigarette. She stuck his hand back into his pocket and searched for anything to dumb out the tiny white crystals on. He almost gave up hope but then he found something. "Score," Spike said triumphantly as he pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper.

Spike smoothed it out by rubbing it back and forth across his knee and then he laid it across his lap. Spike poured the powder out on the paper and looked from it to the sewer grate, he still had some time to kill before the sun set. Spike used his pinkie and lined up the crank into several long white lines. He withdrew the pen tube from his pocket and held it up to his nose. Cocaine coated the inside but he knew that wouldn't trouble his endeavor, it would only make it sweeter. He took the first line with ease; the dust went up his nose swiftly with no burning sensation.

Holding the tube to his nose, he waited or the first line to kick in. He could feel a slight jolt of energy hit the back of his mind. Spike felt as if he could do anything, as if time was standing still and he was moving faster than everything else was. He snorted the two more long lines of the colorless powder and his vision began to blurry together. As he snorted the last line, he took in every feeling…every thought he was having. His mind began to shift…to blur his senses until he thought he would burst. He stood up slowly, the world was spinning around him and he was ready for it. He was ready to take on Xander and his snarky girl…he was ready for a snack. Spike thought of Dawn, the dead Slayers little sis…little bit, he used to call her. Now she was going to fill him up, her blood was going to spill for him…such precious blood.

Spike felt giddy, he walked in circles over and over and over again. It only felt like moments but he knew hours had passed…hours thinking of everything. On crank, moments seem to pass slowly, as if time had stopped and you were the only one moving. He was speeding; he walked up and down the tunnels…always under the grate that lead up to the dumb bloke's apartment.

He stopped and the world spun around him. Spike looked up through the sewer grate and everything was orange. The sun was finally setting. He jumped up the ladder and pulled himself quickly onto the street. The area was a bit more decrepit than he remembered but the building looked the same…the same shape anyway, it had ivy growing up the sides and most of the windows had boards covering them. Spike looked towards Xander's apartment and found that there was a light on. He smiled, and made his was rather quickly toward the door. The speed was driving him forward, up the stairs and to Xander's door. He knocked, but why, Spike really didn't know.

Xander opened the door; his clothes were worn, and dirty. His eyes were bloodshot and he wore a lopsided grin on his face. "Hey," he said and looked up at Spike, and his grin vanished. Spike pushed past him into the grungy apartment.

Paraphernalia littered the floor and tables, drugs of every kind could be found everywhere else. Spike turned in a circle and found he was in paradise. What happened to daft Xander? Anya came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a red lacy bra and matching panties. "Who is it?" Her speech was a little slurred, and she seemed a bit more lightheaded than usual.

"What are you doing here Spike?" Xander asked over Anya's questioning.

"I'm here for a snack," Spike laughed. "Where's little Dawnie?" His head was spinning and he needed to sit down somewhere, he wobbled over to the couch and plopped down on it. Xander was dazed; there was a calm demeanor about him but Spike knew there wasn't something quite right about him. Anya walked up behind him, her arms folded over her chest.

" Xander why is Spike in our house? Tell him to go away; he's making my skin crawl. He isn't welcome here." Anya told Xander, she spoke as if Spike wasn't listening. Xander ignored her whining and kept his drooping eyes on Spike. He was trying to figure out if this was all in his imagination or if the vampire was actually sitting on his couch. He blinked a few times and then crossed the room and sat down beside him, he finally decided he didn't really care. Xander grabbed the tequila bottle off his coffee table and poured them both a shot.

"Xander!" Anya whined, "Do something. Get him out of here. He is really making me uneasy, why aren't you doing anything?"

Spike looked at her, disgust on his face. Her thin body was scantily clad in only her undergarments and he didn't feel anything, she wasn't attractive to him anymore. The only person he felt anything for was Marla. Spike smiled, he couldn't wait until he could get her naked and under him. Spike picked up his shot and downed it with Xander. The vampire couldn't comprehend why Xander wasn't freaking out about him, they were never friends and he always expressed deep hatred for Spike.

"So, Dawn's not here?" Spike said, Xander tried to shake his head no but it didn't work out. He ended up flopping his head to one side and then laughing unenthusiastically about it.

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to find another snack." Spike smiled and stood up quickly, faltering for only a moment. The speed was wearing off and he could feel the after affects starting to set in. He needed some blood…human blood to counteract the affects.

"Xander!" Anya exclaimed for one last time before Spike flitted toward her and grabbed her by the throat.

"Now bird, don't fret. This won't hurt a bit." He ran his fingers through her sandy brown hair softly before sinking his teeth painfully into her neck. He could feel the bloodlust fueling his body; it was an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. He missed the power that filled his body and his mind but now it was back, without the agonizing hurt that caused him misery for so many years. He drank from her, Anya's blood was sweet and metallic, and it quenched the vampire's dry throat. He looked back to Xander and found him watching with an expressionless look on his face. Spike could tell that Xander must have taken a cocktail of painkillers before he arrived…some morphine or some heroin.

Spike dropped Anya's limp body on the couch after licking the excess blood off her neck. Xander looked over at her and then watched as Spike returned to his place next to him. Xander looked like he wanted to say something but no words came out of his mouth. His head flopped backwards onto the couch and he lay still.

"Wha…what happened to Anya?" Xander said quietly, stifling a yawn. Spike laughed at him, his body was twitching under the influence of the crank he had in his system…and the fresh human blood. He felt strong…and fast…and bad. "She fell asleep." Spike lied as he watched Xander try to pour them another round, he missed the glasses and poured tequila all over the coffee table and floor. Spike took the bottle from him and poured two glasses for them. "Oh," replied Xander, his body seemed limp to Spike. There was something wrong about him. "I'm glad she stopped whining, she was giving me a headache." His words were slurred and he spilled his shot all over his white shirt.

"You ponce watch out." Spike yelled angrily, he took the glass away and placed it back on the table. "What do you think about eternal life?" He asked casually, right now seemed like a good time to get this over with.

"Eternal life? Sounds like a blast…" Xander replied, he was drifting off and Xander needed to get this over with before he was completely gone.

Spike grabbed Xander by the throat and tore his teeth into his neck. Xander's attempt to free himself was feeble…it was useless with all of those drugs coursing through his veins. Spike drank from him until his heart was just a faint beating. Spike bit into his own wrist and watched as his blood welled up around the wound. He dripped it onto Xander's lips and watched him lick up the crimson liquid. He held the cut up Xander's mouth and let him drink. Xander held on, drinking to hold on to life…his life. Xander needed the sweet metallic elixir Spike had for him.

Spike pulled away his arm, and Xander fell backwards onto the creamy couch. He clutched his chest, it was burning…stabbing…ripping in his chest. His heart was suffocating…dying inside of him leaving a black decaying symbol in it's place. Xander seized, his body rejecting the blood. The mixture of painkillers he had taken earlier relieved him of most of the pain but the pain was still unbearable. Xander cried out in pain, he closed his eyes and froze, drifting out of consciousness.

Spike stood up, wavering, he almost fell backwards but he steadied himself before walking across the room to the kitchen. He pulled his pack out of his pocket and opened it. Spike only had a few cigarettes left and no way of getting a pack, he shrugged and then took one out and lit it.

Tonight he did something he never imagined doing, he killed Anya and turned Xander. Dawn was still nowhere to be found. Spike glanced around the room, still shocked at the sight of everything. In the kitchen, he found, not only three hydroponic plants growing, but also a shit load of cocaine and it was pure white. He found a lot of meth and the remnants of the ingredients Xander or Anya had used to make it. Spike found rocks and buds scattered across the counter top mixed in with pills of every kind. Spike saw pipes, lighters, and every other type of paraphernalia on the kitchen table. Picking up a chewed morphine patch, Spike realized this was it. He found four more chewed ones scattered on the table, along with half a line of crushed valium and two used syringes. Xander really used more than he should have…and with all that tequila he had been drinking…he would have overdosed. Spike saved his life by killing him.


End file.
