Categories > TV > Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Broken
Disclaimer: I am not a small redheaded man; therefore, none of this is mine.
Broken
Spike watched Buffy walk away, her words running through his head. 'I'm sorry, William. I'm sorry, William. I'm sorry, William.' He stood still, not wanting to appear weak while she was still in the room. He actually made it until she was up the ladder before falling to his knees on the rubble that had been his crypt. For the first time since being turned, Spike sobbed. He's cried over the years, yes; but never these great heaving sobs like he was now. A man only did that when he'd lost everything worth living for.
'Takes a Slayer to break a vamp.' He thought, struggling through the tears for air he didn't need. 'Gave her my heart so many times, stood back and watched her grind it into the dirt before handin' it back. Should've known one of these times it'd come back beyond repair.' Spike struggled to his feet and surveyed the damage done to his home. His eyes fell on this shrine; his alter to the Slayer. It was a wreck; the mannequin destroyed, the sweater he had stolen in tatters, even the photos and drawings were strewn all over, many burned and torn beyond repair.
He went up the ladder, all the while imagining throwing himself against one of the broken rungs and ending it all. He reached the top and grabbed his bottle of Jack before sinking into his chair.
She'd used him, wanted him for nothing but sex and self-punishment. Hating him, hating herself, fucking him over in more ways than one. And him, being the fool he is, letting her, all for the sake of love.
All those times he'd thought she was close to caring at all, every time she looked at him with anything other than disgust or lust or just plain emptiness, renewing his hope; they had meant nothing.
Now, sitting alone in his chair, well on his way to being drunk, Spike finally saw her for what she really was; a user. And the thing that disgusts him the most is that he still loves her, still wants her, still doesn't understand.
Spike leaned forward, his head in his hands; the heartache almost doubled him over.
'Why?' he couldn't help but think. 'Why couldn't she love me?'
~End~
Broken
Spike watched Buffy walk away, her words running through his head. 'I'm sorry, William. I'm sorry, William. I'm sorry, William.' He stood still, not wanting to appear weak while she was still in the room. He actually made it until she was up the ladder before falling to his knees on the rubble that had been his crypt. For the first time since being turned, Spike sobbed. He's cried over the years, yes; but never these great heaving sobs like he was now. A man only did that when he'd lost everything worth living for.
'Takes a Slayer to break a vamp.' He thought, struggling through the tears for air he didn't need. 'Gave her my heart so many times, stood back and watched her grind it into the dirt before handin' it back. Should've known one of these times it'd come back beyond repair.' Spike struggled to his feet and surveyed the damage done to his home. His eyes fell on this shrine; his alter to the Slayer. It was a wreck; the mannequin destroyed, the sweater he had stolen in tatters, even the photos and drawings were strewn all over, many burned and torn beyond repair.
He went up the ladder, all the while imagining throwing himself against one of the broken rungs and ending it all. He reached the top and grabbed his bottle of Jack before sinking into his chair.
She'd used him, wanted him for nothing but sex and self-punishment. Hating him, hating herself, fucking him over in more ways than one. And him, being the fool he is, letting her, all for the sake of love.
All those times he'd thought she was close to caring at all, every time she looked at him with anything other than disgust or lust or just plain emptiness, renewing his hope; they had meant nothing.
Now, sitting alone in his chair, well on his way to being drunk, Spike finally saw her for what she really was; a user. And the thing that disgusts him the most is that he still loves her, still wants her, still doesn't understand.
Spike leaned forward, his head in his hands; the heartache almost doubled him over.
'Why?' he couldn't help but think. 'Why couldn't she love me?'
~End~
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