"Spike... that really stinks, okay?"
"You're the one with the bleedin' death wish, Bit," Spike said slowly, poison dripping from every syllable. "Bit o' secondhand smoke ought to be just what the Doctor Kevorkian ordered."
"Yeah, but it smells like..."
"What... death?" Spike rolled over in the dim light the escaped the shut curtains, propping his head on his hand, his voice low, sinister, seductive. "You'll get to know that taste intimately, pet. When your heart stops beatin', when it shrivels up in your chest... when you take that last, gaspin' breath, when everythin' inside you goes silent n' cold..."
He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving predatorially. "Do y'know why vampires don't just rise up the moment they're sired, Bit? Why they have time to be buried, to claw themselves out of their graves?"
Dawn blinked, her eyes wide. "No..."
"They need time to rot." Spike smiled when she flinched. "On the inside. And you feel it, Bit. You're not strong enough to rise yet, you're paralyzed, but you feel it all the same. It's agony, love... all the pain you've ever felt in your life, you roll that together and you still won't begin to understand."
He tapped ashes into the tray perched on his bed. "There's only one thing worse than bein' conscious for your decomposition, and that's feelin' your soul go. It doesn't take off quick, love, choirs o' angels singin' it to its rest... oh no. It's ripped out, an' it's ripped out slow-like. You can feel it pullin' away, like pullin' tape off flesh. You can feel the light in you go. The demon that steals your body rips it out to make room for itself... inside the cold, dead shell that's all that's left of you when it's done its work."
Spike caught Dawn's eyes, held them... mesmerizing her. The light of his cigarette reflected in the pupils of his eyes, red fire dancing. "And when it goes, Bit... it leaves your mind, your memories behind. Call it a toybox, 'cause that's what it is... a toybox full of shiny things for the new demon inside you to play with. Darkness loves to pervert, Bit, and don't kid yourself for a moment -- it's got a sense of humor."
"I don't understand."
"Here's the funny thing, Bit. When I was human, I -- and if you breathe a word of this, I'll rip out your lungs n' make balloon animals of 'em, understand?"
"Understand."
"Right. Well, William made Xander look rugged n' manly. Rugged, manly, and smooth with the ladies. I didn't even talk the same, Bit, I..." He broke off, looking inward. "Can I still do it?"
"Yes, I still can." Spike smiled, and Dawn's eyes widened.
"Spike... you... you sound all... Merchant Ivory..."
"My dearest, darling girl," Spike grinned, still in his human voice, "I was all Merchant Ivory. Waistcoats and hankerchiefs and little glasses, doting on my mother, living in novels. I wanted passion, excitement, pain, love, joy... certainly... and I found them within pages, in perfect worlds of chivalry and faith and courage and undying love. I wore rose-coloured glasses that were very nearly opaque. I wanted a life that was bigger, cleaner, brighter, simpler, than human existence; I wanted a woman that was better than human."
Spike shrugged. "I supposed that explains why when I finally fell in love, it was with a vengeance demon..."
"Uh, what?"
"Cecily. You've met her. Only 'Cecily' wasn't her real name, of course. It's Halfrek."
"Whoa-whoa-whoa..."
"Oh, indeed. A shock for me as well, I assure you."
"Spike, could you... could you talk normal? The Giles accent is... kind of creepy, coming out of you."
Spike dropped back into his normal voice. "Prefer the Johnny Rotten thing, eh?"
"Who's Johnny Rotten?"
Spike recoiled as if slapped. "Bit... wait... no. Stayin' on topic, but... we'll come back to that. At any rate, the demon... it took what I was and twisted it... made me the epitome of what I'd always scorned, and it used my own personality to do it. Squishin' some things, drawin' out others, keepin' just enough intact for the thing to have that nice touch of irony..."
"But..."
"Don't interrupt me, Bit, I'm gettin' to the good part. When Angel was Angel, he loved Buffy more than anythin'. But when his soul left... when he went back to bein' Angelus... that love, it didn't leave. The passion was still there... but it got dark just like the rest of 'im. Became obsession. S'what the demon inside him did with his mind, Bit. Took all that love and turned it into somethin' twisted and sick, something that made him stalk her, threaten yer mum, kill the Watcher's bird. Love. Are you starting to get it? Whatever you care about, Bit, whatever you are... that's what the demon's gonna use."
"But you are a demon."
Spike inhaled, cocking an eyebrow. "True that."
"So how can you talk about yourself in the third person? I don't get it. Part of you is still human, part of you is a demon, part of you is the soul? Where are you?"
"Might ask you the same question. Which bit of you is the Key, which is Buffy? Where are you?"
"I... I don't know."
"Right. Can't locate your existential Dawnness any more than I could tell y'where William ended n' Spike began, even before the soul muddied the works. Angel's the one you want to talk to on that topic, though..." Spike sneered, "I'd rather imagine he's busy just at the moment."
"Yeah, they... I guess they have a lot of wounded, huh?"
"Wasn't quite what I meant, but sure, Bit; wounded."
Dawn flopped over onto her stomach, gazing across the valley between their beds. "What did you mean?"
"We should get some sleep," Spike said gruffly.
"Spike..."
"Fine. Uncle Spikey was havin' a wee pity party where your big sis is concerned."
"You think she's back with Angel?"
"Don't think it, love. Know it. Saw it." Spike adjusted a pillow under his head, sighing. "Smelled it."
Dawn surveyed his face, her eyes widening in shock. "You... Spike? You... you don't hate Angel any more...?"
Spike smashed his pillow over his face. "Bit, go to sleep."
"Spike, come on. I can tell. I mean, you used to tape cartoons of him to Buffy's punching bag... what gives?"
"Fine," Spike groaned, tossing the pillow aside. "Fair cop, Bit... Peaches has grown on me a bit since I put on the white hat." Spike grinned. "What can I say? He's like a big, funny, fluffy, frowny circus bear."
"With fangs."
"Yeah." Spike flashed her a wicked look. "What's not to like?"
He flopped onto his stomach, raising an eyebrow. "Looked cuter as a puppet, though."
"A what?"
"A very funny story, that I'll tell you in great detail tomorrow." Spike rolled over, facing away from Dawn.
"Huh," Dawn said, gazing at the ceiling. "Guess she's cheating on The Immortal, then."
"Looks to be," Spike sighed. "Better a million years of Angel with me tied up n' forced to watch than her with that bloody bastard."
"Don't like the Immortal, huh?"
"You could say that."
"I don't either."
"Glad to hear one female doesn't think he's the bleedin' King of All..."
"He came onto me," Dawn sighed.
Spike was rolled over and wide awake in an instant, staring. "He what?"
"Came onto me," Dawn yawned, propping her head on her palm. "I'd gotten him to do the you impression and play rummy with me. Y'know, for old times sake. I guess he thought it worked so well on Buffy, might as well try it on..."
"Whoa-whoa-whoa, Bit. Back up. The me impression?"
"Don't you know what The Immortal is?"
"Enlighten me."
"He's a psychic vampire. There's some other word for it, I can't pronounce it. He must have drained you at some point. That's what he does... I think he's a major creep. He sees a woman he wants, what he usually does is drain the boyfriend first, get all this inside info before he even approaches her. Then he moves in, already knowing what she likes. Makes a perfect first impression."
"Angel and I... he chained us in a barn..."
"Did he go for Darla and Dru right afterwards?"
"Yeah... yeah, he did..."
Dawn snorted. "Typical."
"Tell me more."
"I thought you wanted me to go to sleep," Dawn teased.
"You can sleep in the car. Talk."
"He drains all kinds of stuff. Memories, technique, knowledge. I mean, everyone thinks he's so great, but what's so great about someone who's just... a patchwork of other people? Everything he is, he stole from someone else."
"You're bloody well kidding me."
"Nope. You wanna hear something hilarious? When he first met Buffy, he thought Andrew was her boyfriend. So he was all talking about Star Wars, you should have seen the look Buffy gave him..."
"And he does a me impression?"
"He can shape-shift. Normally, he just stays whatever kind of handsome is in style, y'know? When I first saw him, Lord of the Rings had just come out, and he was doing this sort of Orlando Bloom, Legolasy thing... I mean, as much as he could without someone being all, 'Hey, dorkwad, why are you dressed up as an elf, go back to GeekCon,', y'know?"
"Dorkwad?"
"It's a word!" Dawn smiled conspiratorially. "It's what I call him behind Buffy's back."
"His new name it shall be, then. Tell me more about Buffy and... Dorkwad." Spike grinned from ear to ear. "Dorkwad. I do like that."
"Well, we're out at a club, right? Me, Buffy, and Andrew. Andrew goes off to the bathroom, doesn't come back for the longest time... finally comes back all woozy. Then here comes The Immortal, babbling to Buffy about Scott Bakula."
"Why didn't she just kick him in the stones and pour her drink on his head?"
"Well, she cut him a little slack. Because of how he looked."
"Buffy's got a thing for elf impersonators? Wish I'd known, I could have nicked a fetchin' Santa's Helper costume off a mall worker..."
"Um, yeah, hello? Cheekbones from hell, dark hair dyed white blonde, black eyebrows?"
"He looked like Legolas, I got it..."
"No, dim bulb, he looked like you."
"Oh," Spike said quietly.
"And then they started talking, and your name came up, and he said he knew you..."
"Oh? And what did he say about me, pray tell?"
"Nothing but nice stuff. Otherwise, Buffy probably would have kicked him in the stones and poured her drink on his head."
"Really?"
"Duh. Spike, we thought you were dead. We missed you. And when The Immortal said he knew you, seemed eager to hear about you, Buffy was all over that. She likes to talk about you. She doesn't get much of a chance to."
Spike raised his eyebrows, leaning back. "Wow."
"See, that was when I got suspicious. Because the more he talked to Buffy, the more obvious it became that she really cared about you, the more he started... becoming you. His voice started changing, his features shifted a little... he didn't offer to do the full-on change until later, when she said how much she missed you."
"So he walked around lookin' like me, talkin' like me? Bit, that's bent."
"It kinda was. He never did it when Andrew was around, though..."
"Well, if he drained Andrew, he'd know I was alive and that Andrew knew that."
"Makes sense." Dawn picked at her fingernails. "But yeah. He did his little you impression all the time."
"I still say it's soddin' creepy."
"Spike. You're not hearing me. I said, all the time, and I'm giving you the meaningful look."
"All the -- even when they were..."
"Especially then."
"Wow. Got herself a nifty little sex toy, didn't she? Bam, I'm with Spike! Bam! I'm with Angel! It's the bloody undead sex buffet! I tell you what, Bit, that's the last scrap of guff I take for ordering that bloody bot..."
"Spike..." Dawn whispered. "He never changed into Angel."
Spike froze. "What?"
"Not once." Dawn bunched up her pillow beneath her head. "And you know what else? The first time he... y'know... stayed over, Buffy cried after he left."
"Serious?"
"Serious. Cried all over me. Got snot on me, actually, it was way gross. Said he could look like you and talk like you, but he never looked at her the way you did."
"Bit... you're makin' it up."
"Cross my heart and hope to..."
"Don't hope to anythin'! I know what this is. This is all part of your 'Vamp Me Please, Spike' pledge-a-thon, and I was actually fallin' for it. Nice try, Bit." Spike flopped over to his other side. "I'm goin' to sleep now."
"She said that. That's one of the things she said, when she was crying. That you didn't believe her when she said she loved you."
"With bloody good reason, Bit. Buffy never loved me. God knows she's spent long enough tellin' me she never could. I was burnin' alive, she took pity on me, told me what I wanted to hear."
"She really does love you, Spike."
"As a friend, maybe. Not the way..." Spike sighed. "You don't understand, Bit."
"I understand fine, it's..."
"Buffy won't ever love me, Bit. She can't. She shouldn't. You could stuff four souls in her and she never would. Tear up your trump card, Nibblet, 'cause Spike knows somethin' you don't."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"Why she'll never love me."
"But..."
Spike smiled painfully. "I'm beneath her."
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