“If you need another day…”
“No. I need to go,” I insisted.
“As long as you’re sure.”
And when your mouth fell into that sublime smile, I wasn’t. But that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Uncertainty was the only thing saving me from the disappointment of surety, and I could never be sure you missed me when I wasn’t there to hate. I had come to you knowing no amount of time would ever be enough for me to drink you in, absorb your purity and cleanse myself of the sins butchering my soul inside. I came knowing that going would occur, despite whatever protests my heart made.
“Take care, Spike. And try to remember what I told you.”
“You didn’t tell me anything,” I interjected.
“You weren’t listening.”
“I rarely do,” I admitted.
Your expression remained breathtaking in its graceless oppression. “I said that I loved you,” you claimed, your entire body overthrown by the weight of the confession.
My soul shifted, stretched, wept a little.
“Thank you,” came my whisper, aching at the disruption I had caused. “After all… who wouldn’t?” I gloated with a lack of enthusiasm, shaking off the momentary awkwardness.
That was all I knew how to say, and I would’ve apologized were it not for the paralyzed state of every fiber that was lying dead on my bones. I suppose when you wait for three genuine words your entire life, by the time you get to your unlife the hope has worn too thin to accept them. You can’t believe it because you never have, and you’re locked in the systematic disbelief you’ve taught yourself because it’s the only way you’ve known how to monitor your folly wishes and desires.
“Just remember,” you said softly. “Don’t think differently.”
And then you kissed me; your lips a cool sigh against mine, so exquisite and prepossessing. You seduced me before you sent me back out into the rain. I could taste the blood on your lips…so alive, so provocative, so powerful. You always knew how to drive me crazy. Well, guess what? This time I made your job a bit easier. I already was.
“One believer, Spike. If you fight for one you’ll earn thousands more.”
You said one believer’s enough, and you were right. Drusilla and Darla never believed we were the real things. Too often we gave into our human instincts. They never left us like they did them. So we had no other choice but to trust one another. It was the only way we could bring ourselves to kill, to give into the evil that threatened our every nightmare. Killing was the only way not to be killed.
Yes, Angelus was cruel. But he loved me in his own way, the same way a little part of you can’t resist not to, Angel. Whoever I am, William, Spike, the manmade monster you call your family…I only know this one thing: Every part of me loves you. It used to be about your power, the sensations of having you in every vein and artery conceivable. It was about that craving, the innocence of your brutality, how you knew the gears of my mind as well as the crevices and knots of my body. Angelus adored me because I was so pure in comparison, something to be corrupted and something to control. But you, Angel, have your own reasons. I don’t know what they are, I only know they’re in your eyes when you look at me in that heart-throbbing fascination.
Dru once told me, “Your eyes are as blue as the sky. I could fly in them if I had wings.” I don’t know how she remembered what the sky looked like. I know I don’t, but despite what my eyes may represent, they hold so little. It’s because they’re too light, you see. They blind things and let them through their own transparency. But yours; yours are dark and concentrated. Everything you’ve seen is forever a memory. When you look at me I can see the concrete value stored there. I see everything I’m missing. I can see a world where the living surpasses the beauty of the undead. I see you in a nutshell, Angel. I see what I’ve become.
Something hopeful.