This Love
The night was silent, cold and empty. Spike took great pleasure in disrupting it's placidity by roaring the motorbike over the dusty road, it's headlight attacking the solid suffocating darkness. He speeded without really thinking. He wasn't really sure *what* he was doing, but he knew one thing - the Big Bad was in for a change.
He passed a sleazy looking bar. 'Bugger this', he muttered to himself, parking his bike in front of the bar. He strolled into the building, coat flapping behind him, as scantily clad women eyed him hungrily. He didn't return the gaze, remaining disinterested and detached from the happenings around him. For his mind still howled of Buffy.
On reching the bartender, he scowled. 'Something really strong'. He clunked a few dollar bills on the counter. The man glared. 'Pretty please' said Spike threateningly, 'With a bloody cherry on top?'. The bartender grudgingly served him.
'About bl-'. Spike stared at the overflowing glass, and exploded. 'What the hell is this?', he pointed wildly to his drink.
'A cherry' replied the bartender simply. He took Spike's money and left to serve a newcomer.
'Bloody wanker', fumed Spike, throwing the shrivelled cherry from his mystery beverage. He cursed the bartender for being human, and wandered to a dark corner, where the shadows hid him from view. He took a sip from his drink and winced. It was no where near strong enough for him.
A group of bikers gathered around the front stage, at some distance from where Spike sat. A band were getting ready to play. Spike squinted. he didn't recognise the name, but they seemed a poncy bunch. After an arguement with a rowdy biker, the band began their first song.
~~~'I was so high I did not recognize
~~~The fire burning in her eyes
~~~The chaos that controlled my mind'
Spike unwillingly relived the day's events. Again. The bathroom. She was beautiful. Buffy always was though.
He took a chug from his foul drink.
When the Scooby losers found out about them, he was sure buffy would give in to him, become his completely. Why wouldn't she? She loved him, or so he thought. He had pleased her more than any man ever could. Because he loved her. He was high on love, on lust, on passion, and an uncontrollable hunger for her touch.
He closed his eyes. It was still painful. She hadn't wanted him. Hadn't her eyes said so? Chaos and bloody fire, he thought bitterly. Never a good match. He'd tried to rape Buffy. She'd never touch him now. He'd finally crossed the hazy, unidentifiable line in their hazy, unidentifiable relationship. Her eyes...
"Ask me again why I can never love you!".
He took another chug.
~~~'This love has taken its toll on me
~~~She said Goodbye too many times before...'
But how was he supposed to know when she was being serious? hadn't she always told him 'No' when she really meant 'yes'? Said 'never again' before begging him for more? How was he to know that this time 'no' had face value?
Her eyes, he realized. they never lie. They didn't want me. Even if I wanted her.
He'd looked into her eyes, as she staggered, bruised and torn, full of hatred. She's made him hate himself with those very eyes.
"Ask me again why I can never love you!".
Bloody chip, he thought savagely. For it was the chip that started all this, his plunge into love. It was also a chip, not a soul, that anchored him from the bad side.
He lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. They all looked down on him because of the chip. As if Spike was something filthy that they had to put up with. Angel never got that treatment.
'He has a soul'. Buffy often reminded him of the oh-so subtle difference. He felt violent every time she mentioned him. A soul. The miserable, pansy haired git. A soul. He finished off his drink.
~~~'Cause I know that's what you want me to do...'
A soul. Maybe that was the answer...couldn't that weird African demon do ANYTHING?
'Anything...', he thought deliriously.
A soul would teach them all that Spike was as good as any of them. He imagined himself like he had always visualised in his poems-gallant, strong, bloody good looking...Yes, once he'd been a poet...
"Ask me again why I can never love you!".
'Cos i'm an evil soulless thing' he whispered to himself. He giggled manically. People turned to stare. 'Oh, sod off', he snapped, dumping his cigarette butt into the empty glass.
He stormed off, coat billowing, and jumped on his bike. As he speeded off into the night, his head throbbed with fresh thoughts.
~~~'I have no choice cause I won't say goodbye anymore'
DISCLAIMER ---'This Love' is a song by maroon 5. Not me. I'm not stealing them of their riches, or intend the group any harm whatsover.
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