AUTHOR:  Orin.

RATING:  NC-17 (For later.)

DISCLAIMER:  Mutant Enemy owns all things Buffy; all hail Joss Whedon in the greatness that is the creator... ^__^

SPOILERS:  Everything through the end of S6 is game... I suppose... But this is definitely AU - in the sense that it'll never happen on TV, which is fine with me, cause this is bloody depressing... OCCness abound BTW...

FEEDBACK:  Yes, but please be gentle.

PAIRINGS: Spike/Buffy of course, just give me a chance... Others undecided...

SUMMARY: The End of Days had been and gone, and in the aftermath, Spike and Co. search for Buffy, seeking to fight back for and rebuild their world...

"The first death is the most painful.

But the second rebirth is the most terrifying.

I'm sure you'll agree with me, Angelus.

Perhaps it is the shock of mortality - that even as a vampire death is possible. The elite among us were thought to be invincible once, having lived hundreds of years, acquired vast amount of knowledge and lore. I had been one of those elite. A Slayer of Slayers. Once.

Before the slayer. Before the chip.

And perhaps those were not my only downfalls. I had believed them as such. Once. But the infallibility of immortality is not absolute. And the cost is high for such favor.

Our kind were Gods in our own time, and worshipped as such. We were creatures of the night and the dark, and the danger, praised and loathed for our skill, our passions. Ever feared was the awesome power of our lifeblood. To drink of and to be drunk from - an exchange of life that is deeper than time itself. Though in the end, death is the reward. Or eternal life.

We were hunters, and we killed, but always we remained unscathed - for who could touch those so favored by the dark Gods?

We never expected betrayal.

Least of all from you.

It was forbidden, and we all knew it. You, Angelus, I, the others, the old ones - and those whom we served were even more headless of it. And when the hurt and the anger passed in me, there was only fascination left - that and a definite amount of disdain - which I made certain you were fully aware of. You fascinate me. You and the she both. I suppose you always have.

My one-time sire. My would-be slayer.

I do not know how it happened, or why, but it did. And for a while I lost myself to my foolish notions and childish fantasies, dreams held by someone who had never been a child. But I was young - eternally so, and I was strong - I reveled in my strength, so much so that you often came close to ending my un-life in reprimand. And I suppose too, that I was in love.

Oh, not with you Angelus. Don't hold any such illusions about my opinion for you. Not even with Druscilla - though I loved her, do not doubt that.

I was in love with life, as it became for me. With all the darkness it held, and the freedom that came with it. Unfettered from societies rules. I would never be chained again. Not by anyone.

The world was perfect for me, then.

A perfection that was shattered in one day.

The day I met her.

So, you understand how the second time around, it's far more terrifying."

Spike closed the old journal, slamming the brittle leather-bound covers together with more fierceness that he had intended. Old wounds, old words, and still he would look at the book now and then.

That entry had been his last. It was before everything had changed.

Even as a vampire, a new fledgling, scorning his old ways and old life, Spike had not been able to let go of the poet in him. Not completely. It had always remained within, lurking in the shadows to appear at the most inopportune and outrageous moments - just when Spike needed it least.

Snatches of poetry, ditties, descriptions of battles and hunts, even sketches thrown haphazardly here and there between the leather-bound pages. Inspired by Angelus' talent, Spike had fostered one of his own.

In every vampire, there was the demon. And then there was the man.

And vampires could love, and not necessarily just one another; there was the love for beautiful things, fine arts - as Angelus had. Evil incarnate he had been, but no one had ever been able to deny the good taste the vampire possessed.

Spike had been the same - to a lesser extent. Any eccentricities he had, he had to himself. Perhaps Drucilla had been aware to a certain degree, but so engrossed was she in her own world, she never mentioned anything to him of it.

Spike loved life. Simple as that. He loved the killing - the taking of that life. He loved being able to live, to do so longer than should be rationally possible. That he had to live in the dark, never to walk in the sun was irrelevant. Everything had it's price. Even immortality.

He loved the dance between lovers, the push and pull of body against body. The climb and ascension - even the shuddering fall. He loved the engagement before the dance, the foreplay as it had become called in modern times. The electric thrill of skin against skin - of contact...

He loved simplicity. He always would.

There had been few things he had been devoted to though. Drucilla had been one of them. His devotion for her was legend among his kind, Spike knew this. It was as renowned as his title as the Slayer-of-Slayers and the Scourge of Europe. .

Love. Devotion. One and the same?

Perhaps.

Then there was Buffy.

He had hated her. He had loathed her. He had admired her - grudgingly. He had lusted after her. He had loved her. He had been devoted to her - a slayer of his kind.

Life; Spike loved.

Drucilla; he had been devoted to.

Buffy...

Buffy, Spike had cherished. He had done so beyond reason or doubt, through hatred and distrust and lust - to love. He had loved and been in love all at once. She had changed him for doing so. His love had developed, changing, growing, and accommodating her sister. Even her friends to a lesser extent. Friendship; almost; acceptance; not quite, but someday perhaps.

And then he had betrayed her.
 
 

There. One of my first Buffy attempts. I don't usually post them, because the fics out there I've read are so much better. But this has been playing on my mind for so long now, I had to do something about it...

It's completely batty, and utterly AU, and - as it turns out - rather depressing as well.... And it'll probably be longer than intended.

Any feedback would be appreciated - feed the author kind-of-thing - or just tell me if I should keep on writing this...

Take care.

Orin. (Who's  recently seen 'Once More With Feeling' and can only say 'Wow...')