Author: C l a d d a u g h K i t t e n
Rating: R for disturbing imagery, I suppose. Character deaths, etc.
Summary: Spike, 20 years in the future, reflects on the past.
They say Vampires have no emotions. Don't feel pain, love, or see reason. It's a lie. Whoever made up that rot has obviously never been, or known what it felt like to be one of us.
We feel everything humans feel, and more. What allows us to kill without remorse is the survival instinct. It replaces the guilt with the thrill of the hunt.
But we still feel.
The true meaning of pain is something you cannot even begin to comprehend. Something so complex and completely out of any human's grasp that there is no word for it, or to begin to describe it.
I miss Dru. I loved her so much it hurt. More than thousand knives, or an ocean of Holy water.
Even now, years later, I can still hear her voice. Sometimes it sounds so real I can't help but look up and expect to see her. My Black Queen.
Standing in a doorway, holding Ms. Edith with her frail, white, hands.
That was the last time I saw her.
Before I killed her.
Remember the Slayer's little red-headed friend? Willow. A witch, and a powerful one at that. She restored Dru's soul, or tried to, at least. Why? To this day I don't know, and I doubt I ever will.
But, something went wrong. Horribly wrong.
You see, before Drusilla was turned, she had a second sight. Saw things only God was supposed to see.
Some thought it was a miracle, but for the most, they thought she was posessed. A spawn of Satan.
Angelus was intrigued by her. By her purity. He wanted nothing more than to destroy her, and posess her. Posess her purity.
A demon, like a vampire, wants only to destroy what they can't have. And demons are anything but pure.
My accounts of Dru's turning are vague, as I only know what Angelus told me. My bloody Sire.
They sent her to a convent, you see. To become a nun. And on the day she was to take her holy vows, Angelus found her. And turned her. And destroyed anything that was ever pure inside her. In her mind, heart, and soul.
But he didn't make her crazy.
Angel may take credit for that till the cows come home, but it's a lie. I know.
Dru was driven mad by her family. They hated her for what she was, and what she never could be. Her mother thought she was a blasphemer, her father, a demon. They refused to believe she was of their blood. Those bloody Catholics were so righteous it was disgusting. And yet, what they did to her made them worse than any demon.
They locked her up. Beat her. And starved her. And inevitably, drove her mad.
And claimed they did it in the name of God.
And as soon as she was of age, sent her to the convent. Straight into the arms of death. Angelus.
And so, when her soul was restored, she reverted back to the way she was.
Being a vampire had restored a small amount of her sanity. Without it-Dru was indescribably mad.
Imagine Dru as she was, only a thousand times worse. That's what it was like.
I killed her. I had to. And at that moment, I wanted to die too. More than anything. But an annoying part of myself still wanted to live.
Wretched as I am, I still wanted to live.
For revenge.
And I got it. Night after Night, I still dream of her. Stake firmly impaled through her heart, reaching for me with those frail hands, even as they turned to dust. And her last words. I don't know whether it was part of a sentence, a song, or a quote. Whatever it was, it haunts me. Years later, it still haunts me.
"Do you love?"
And that was it. She turned to a pile of ash at my feet. And I wept. And I swore my revenge.
I got it alright. I found the little witch that night. Broke her neck like a twig. But I didn't drink from her.
I wanted to make it slow, and painful. Torture. But the mintue I saw her, rage took over. And by the time I was in control again, her body was limp in my arms. Dead.
I killed the Slayer next.
She was at her house, still a wreck over that bloody wanker Angel. I don't know what she saw in him. Such strength, beauty, and power. Wasted. I made it quick. She barely fought me. And as I watched her eyes glaze over, I almost felt remorse. Almost.
The two males went soon after. The witch's boyfriend - the werewolf - was first. Killed him during the full moon. Werewolves really aren't much of a fight at all. Just big dumb dogs.
The idiot was even easier. By far the easiest. He blubbered and cried for his life. And I listenened. For a while, at least. He wailed about the witch, and that little rich girl that was his girlfriend. But I had things to do, and not much time to waste.
The little rich girl and my Sire were the hardest to find. I killed the Watcher trying to get their whereabouts. I'm not very patient in that way.
And would you believe, my Sire and the little skank, were together?
Yep. In L.A. Fighting demons with an agency. With some wanker named Doyle.
As if to add to the confusion, they were shagging each other. I could tell by the look in their eyes.
It only made me want to kill them more.
Doyle and Cordeilia went first. I tore Doyle into pieces. Literally. Left the shreds all over Angel & Cordeilia's front step.
Cordeilia was next. She was tough, considering she had Angel to protect her. I had to knock Angel unconscious and pull her, screaming and crying, off him. And drove a railroad spike into her gut.
Didn't get her Sire though. He got away. Bloody coward. Took me years to find him. 20 years, as a matter of fact.
And when I did, I wasn't mad enough to anymore. Couldn't do it.
After all, he was my Sire.
I let him go, although he begged me not to. He wanted to die too, almost more than me.
And so he's here with me now, a mere shadow of what he was. Nothing more.
And as I turn to face the rising sun, I feel only relief, as my Sire stands with me.
We were together in death, or un-life, as they call it, and now we willl spend an eternity together. In Hell perhaps, or worse.
All I know is that I'm tired. Tired of life, tired of death. Tired of killing, hunting, and destruction. Except for my own.
My own destruction, and that of my Sire.
I barely feel the burning, and Angel only flinches, as our bodies begin to turn to dust.
As the last strands of my being are burned away by the sun, I feel content, ready for whatever is to become of me, and a final thought dominates my mind in my last moments.
Do you love?
~End~
Continues - None Scheduled as of Yet.
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