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He awakes in pain, screaming into the utter stillness; previous
victim's voices echoing through the long dark chambers of
his soul. Living hell was a metaphor until experienced and he
could identify all too well.

Panic comes in spurts and he clinches long dead flesh, blood
seeping to the surface like new-found regrets. And he has
had many...people and actions that he knows will take a
lifetime (or three) to redeem. But forgiveness is the least of
things on his long-suffering mind as he searches for her
presence; the sultry aroma of millenia forged green energy.
It is not a scent his olfactory senses can overlook after
centuries of intense dedication.

He cannot smell her now, but detects the slight musk of just
begun femininity twirling round outside the auto's door.
Spike risks a peek through the looking glass and catches a
glimpse of girl through smoke rising from the ground. He
would take in more of the outside world, but the faint
luminescence of pinpointed stars in the inky night sky
threaten to overwhelm, making him afraid. He has a slight
flashback of the time he drank from an unassuming acid-
tripper in the early 60's and believes that he feels the same
way Now and he did Then. Just without all the hand staring
and such.

He feels like such a child, especially when the girl notices
him staring and gives him the same pity look she's had since
the beginning of their journey. He just wants to be held, but
she will never give him that; only a blanket with the freshness
of since-gone mother/friend. The old Him (violent, evil-doer
half-man) would not sit in silence and let the demons win,
even his very own, that's for sure. Long-instilled human
patience, however, has won his mind over. Therefore he sinks
further into himself, the flesh and blood that could belong to
any man...lets himself drown.




...and it's as if he's always been falling.

Spike blinks once, then twice...and Dawn opens the door,
letting false light spill in like an accusation. He shakes his
head to clear the cobwebs, but instead feels lightheaded from
the sudden action. He decides to cry, hoping the slight
rainfall will mix with his tears. She smells like cinnamon and
smoke, carrying the auras of a thousand worlds he has left
behind and one of a town he knows he can never leave.

"What have we done, Bit? What have we done?"

"Well, dumbass. We're parked in a truck stop. So get out if
you have to pee or something. You can do that, right?"
Dawn's still young voice is tinged with the impatience that he
was just starting to get used to before he left.

For some reason, the Nib's (*GOT* to use a better word)
words raise his soul from the torture chamber and he uses all
of his being to answer her coherently. "Do what, exactly?"
Spike believes that if he must leave the car he will scream and
she will have to calm him again, pretending that she is not an
eighteen year old girl traveling with a newly ensouled
vampire heading for gods know where. It is not exactly a
scene he wants to play out.

Dawn nears his face, and he can make out every tightened
pore in her own. Her eyes almost narrow, showing a sort of
impatient concern. "Do. You. Use. The. Potty?" She shrugs,
still staring him down. "I don't know that much about
vampire anatomy." Adopts a slightly disgusted expression.
"Except that after three days you're smelling a bit whiffy.
How about a scrub-down in the bathroom, huh?"

She reaches out and touches his arm only slightly, but it is
enough to make the BAD memories rush back and he
tightens. Spike curls and pulls his lean body towards the
driver's side of the car, as much as the still locked seatbelt
will allow. Dawn hisses at her mistake and retracts her hand,
not leaving him with her eyes for even one second.

The girl clinches her even teeth and speaks with an authority
she's not allowed to have with anyone else. No one but the
feeble or insane. "Come on, Spike. Dammit. I don't want to
have to drag you from this car." And she pinches the bridge
of her nose as if releasing a built-up weight. "It's not that
hard. I'll be with you. Please?"

It's her last word that gets him. There is a power in it that no
one knows how to use. Anyone who could foresee their
impending death while he drained the life force from them
would use it. And for what? It did them no good. Dru
screamed it out into the blank vortex demons called home as
he licked her clit over and over. Why? Because she never
wanted it to end. And what did they have but forever? Buffy
pleading on the cold tile floor as he drew blood and cum, but
her's was the only voice he recognised before it was too late.
Before he succumbed. Please was a wake up call to the
human. Please was-