(no subject)
Stalking my way through the dark, the girl on my tail. Tunnels of black and filth, the right place for me. Snaking their way under the town, into its dark heart. Its open jaw.
But I was moving away from that. The air was thick and foul, but I felt a lightness. A fog... A fog over me was lifting. It seemed I could see clearer, away from that place, where hissing things crouched and reminded me of my sins.
We had come to a place. Familiar. My place. The crypt, of course. I was remembering things. It was easier to think out here; it was as if I'd been breathing tar but now there was sweet air.
"Buffy," I said, turning to her, feeling for a moment such perfect clarity. "I've gone mad, haven't I?"
But the clouds came rippling back. They always do. And then there was confusion.
I lay on my bed. She was there, the girl, the one who... The one. But I slept, and when I woke she was gone, of course.
Night time now.
I looked down at myself. Unclean. Dark. There was a fistful of dollars in my pocket. I went out into the town. Bought clothes. They were white, like snow. Like the innocence I wished I still had. Even in my evil I was somehow innocent, because I didn't really know what I know now.
Guilt. Regret. Those aren't big enough words for it. Not wide enough, not strong enough. But it's a start. When I was evil, my actions had no consequences, not really. Not like now.
I knew what I had to do. I went into the crypt, filled with all my things. The bed where I had... with her. That would be first to go. I lit the matches.
Outside, in the dark, I watched the flames lick the interior of my crypt. Consume it. After a while, the fire died down. Only the stone left, the cool stone of the tomb.
I stepped inside and looked around. Great piles of ashes. I looked down at myself, my new white shirt. It was grey with ash. No matter how hard I try to be clean, the dirt just shows through. I laughed. My head felt clearer again, surveying the wreckage of my old life.
"I have gone," I said, to nobody in particular, "bloody mental." And I laughed, feeling for a moment almost like a normal man.
((Open for Buffy after she goes home - this is the evening of the day Willow has returned, in case anyone has lost track. The First can piss Spike off a bit too if it wants.))
But I was moving away from that. The air was thick and foul, but I felt a lightness. A fog... A fog over me was lifting. It seemed I could see clearer, away from that place, where hissing things crouched and reminded me of my sins.
We had come to a place. Familiar. My place. The crypt, of course. I was remembering things. It was easier to think out here; it was as if I'd been breathing tar but now there was sweet air.
"Buffy," I said, turning to her, feeling for a moment such perfect clarity. "I've gone mad, haven't I?"
But the clouds came rippling back. They always do. And then there was confusion.
I lay on my bed. She was there, the girl, the one who... The one. But I slept, and when I woke she was gone, of course.
Night time now.
I looked down at myself. Unclean. Dark. There was a fistful of dollars in my pocket. I went out into the town. Bought clothes. They were white, like snow. Like the innocence I wished I still had. Even in my evil I was somehow innocent, because I didn't really know what I know now.
Guilt. Regret. Those aren't big enough words for it. Not wide enough, not strong enough. But it's a start. When I was evil, my actions had no consequences, not really. Not like now.
I knew what I had to do. I went into the crypt, filled with all my things. The bed where I had... with her. That would be first to go. I lit the matches.
Outside, in the dark, I watched the flames lick the interior of my crypt. Consume it. After a while, the fire died down. Only the stone left, the cool stone of the tomb.
I stepped inside and looked around. Great piles of ashes. I looked down at myself, my new white shirt. It was grey with ash. No matter how hard I try to be clean, the dirt just shows through. I laughed. My head felt clearer again, surveying the wreckage of my old life.
"I have gone," I said, to nobody in particular, "bloody mental." And I laughed, feeling for a moment almost like a normal man.
((Open for Buffy after she goes home - this is the evening of the day Willow has returned, in case anyone has lost track. The First can piss Spike off a bit too if it wants.))