Summary: Spike thinks over his life as something happens that will guide his
future. It's a vague summary, I know, but it's all that I can give.
Spoilers: Minor through the third season.
Disclaimer: Joss made the characters, but I like to think he did that so that
I could mess with them on occasion.
Rating: PG14
Thanks to Tracy and Rebecca, both of whom I adore and worship.
Author's Notes: * * * denotes past and present, ~ ~ ~ is a simple change in scene.

Ashes To Ashes

by: Amy

~~~~~~~~~

Spike watched in helpless fury as it happened. The seconds seemed to pass
like years, each individual moment containing a thousand hidden memories of
the centuries past. As he struggled futilely, he saw his life and his death
in rapid succession; saw the changes of each moon as the months turned over;
smelled the sensual scent of the jasmine, a scent he had come to know
intimately as a man and a demon.

He saw his first meeting with Angelus, his very first taste of death...
* * * * * *

He swiftly ground his foot into the mans' breastbone, wincing as he heard it
crack. "You'd best think before you try to start a fight with me again," he
muttered, easing the pressure and then stepping away. The man gasped in pain
and rolled over.

William shrugged, walking out of the tavern and into the night. It wasn't as
if he had known that the woman was married. Her skin had been as soft as
cream and her breasts had been full and upswept in her gown. Hair the color
of ravens and eyes as black as onyx. William had a weakness for brunettes,
he could admit to that. But he wasn't a monster. He saw something in the
sanctity of marriage. If he had known...

If he had known, he would have done the exact same thing, he admitted to
himself as he walked down the damp streets. She was a tramp, looking for a
good time. He was the man who had given her one.

But he really hadn't known that she had a husband. He wasn't lying about
that.

So, it stood to reason, the her husband shouldn't have attacked him like
that. William had lived without a home for far too long to not learn how to
take care of himself. At only four-and-twenty, he felt as if his whole life
had already passed him, quietly; unseen but there.

Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he turned into the alley that would
lead him to the small flat he had finally found and could afford with his new
job. Granted, it wasn't entirely ethical work, pocketing wallets, but he
made sure to steal only from those that had some to spare.

From the shadows, a man emerged, startling him. William chuckled at himself
and continued walking, his eyes traveling to the man who seemed to be
following him at a discreet pace. He was tall and dark, well built.
Probably strong. William began to walk faster, in no mood to fight twice in
one night.

The man's pace sped up too, and suddenly he grabbed William by the shoulder.
William sighed, latching onto the hand and spinning. If he broke a few
fingers, the man would surely leave him alone.

The man laughed, pulling out of his grip easily; too easily. "I'm Angelus,"
he introduced, a rolling Irish lilt in his words.

William studied him for a moment. "Should I care, mate?"

"You should," Angelus nodded, "Because I will be the one to bring you your
fortune."

"Yes," William scoffed, the nervous mood abating quickly, "And I suppose I'll
have to do nothing but..."

Angelus shrugged. "Nothing at all. I saw how you fought. That amount of
viscousness is well needed in my field." His eyes darkened and he flashed a
smile, charming and frightening at the same time. "Not many of us have it."

William was intrigued, despite himself. "I don't enjoy brutality, Sir. I
use mine when I need to. No more, no less."

Angelus's heavy palm fell on William's shoulder. He leaned forward, his
faces inches from the other man, but William didn't feel any breath on his
face. Interesting. "I could make you enjoy it," Angelus offered. "And so
many other things, things you've never noticed before. Never even knew you
wanted..."

William nodded slowly, curious, as they reached his apartment. He took out a
key; unlocked the door. "Come inside," he said quietly, "And tell me more."
* * * * * *

Spike stilled his struggles until he sat silently. His hands worked deftly at
the bonds that restrained him. If he could escape a moment earlier, just
soon enough, things would be all right. The thick, rough ropes cut and
burned his wrists, but he didn't feel the pain. He wanted only to be free of
them, to get to his dark goddess.

Drusilla. Even the thought of her name conjured up memories a million years
in the making...
* * * * * * *

She had been with them for over three months before William saw her. In that
time, he went along his merry way, slaughtering this bloke and that, spending
very few of his nights with Angelus. And Angelus refused to let anyone set
their eyes upon her face, secure in the paranoia that someone would want to
train her to be his. She was apparently a beauty.

In truth, he was jealous. Angelus had that gleam in his eye as he talked
about her, about her brilliance and beauty and complete insanity. His nights
in William's bed came about less and less, the more time he spent in her
room. William would sometimes hear her scream, and though he wished he would
love it, he simply couldn't. The screams of pain sounded too satisfied. The
terrified wails were far too pleased. He was getting bloody sick of her
voice through the walls. He was, as much as he despised admitting it,
missing his sire, his lover, his partner in death.

*His* partner in death.

Angelus rarely even hunted with him anymore.

And William was left to court Darla, who was far too demanding and
authoritative for him. At least Angelus didn't give him a list of those who
needed to be killed. No, when William hunted with his sire, they acted on
pure bloodlust. Who smelled the best, who's blood was pumping the most fear,
what lovers had just been to bed together. That's who they would kill.
Together.

Darla seemed to think that since she was his grandmother in a strange sense,
she owned him. And while Angelus thought the same, William couldn't find it
in his mind to argue with that. Angelus was the dominant one in their
relationship. William had learned to accept it that way.

But then, things had slowly changed. One sleepless day, listening to the
sounds of violent sex in the room next to him, he slowly rose and entered
Angelus's bed chamber without an invitation.

The sight stopped him in his tracks.

Angelus's clean, hard back was resting over her, this woman who William had
yet to see. Her hair laid fanned on the pillow, but that was all he could
see of her as Angelus turned to him with a frown. "I told you, I didn't want
anyone to..."

He stopped as his eyes fell on William, his eyes blazing with an anger that
he had denied for too long. Angelus calmly shoved the female's face into the
pillow and sat up and away from her, his eyebrows drawing together as he
studied his childe. "Yes? What is it?"

William held back a growl. "I'm leaving, Angelus."

Genuine surprise registered on his sire's face. "You think I'll let you go
with no reason? You think I'll let you go with even a good, plausible reason
under your belt? Do you have a reason?"

William nodded curtly. "Yes."

Angelus stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter.
"You're jealous of her! This is incredible." He lifted his chin
thoughtfully. "You know, William, I do think we should share this. Of
course, I will get more of her and of you, but you've been such a good...
Friend," he smirked, "That I don't see what unveiling her to you will harm."

As he thought over the likeliness of Angelus being honest, William was
shocked when Angelus plunged his fingers into the woman's hair and yanked her
face up to be seen, tearing the covers off of her as well. Obediently, she
looked up. Blue eyes. Black hair. Milk skin. Red mouth. Small, perfect
body. Long fingers.

If he had breath, it would have been taken away with the first sight of her.

Angelus grinned at the look on William's face. "Care to have a taste?"

Slowly, William nodded, jealous again. But, this time, for a different
reason.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Angelus?" he called, glancing around to see if Angelus was truly gone. As
he had heard, Darla had gotten upset that he was spending all of his time
with his new charge, and decided to take him to Rome for the month. Angelus
hadn't said goodbye, but William was used to that.

At least it gave him an opportunity.

He entered the room to the smells of Angelus and Drusilla and himself
colliding, mixing into one heady aroma. He saw the small lump underneath the
bed covers wiggle slightly, and his mouth quirked with a strange tenderness.

"Drusilla."

He walked over to the bed and sat on the mattress next to her, sinking into
the feathers of it. Slowly, he tugged the sheets off of her until her small,
worried frown greeted him.

"My Angel will be angry with me for speaking to you," she warned him.

William nodded. "With me also, Pet."

Her eyes watched him seriously, a small whine escaping from her lips. He
looked at her in concern. "Are you well?"

"Blood, so much blood," she whimpered. "Angel is drinking it at this very
moment, and I have not tasted blood in three days. Such precious blood.
Sweet liquid."

William was shocked. "You haven't eaten in three days?"

She shook her head. "Angel brought me a handsome young maiden to feed on.
And he left, and I have nothing."

He took her hand carefully, cradling the fingers as he pulled her out of the
bed. "Come, then. Come and eat with me. We will toast death together."

Her eyes shone in the dark light with a feral hunger, and William knew he was
holding on far too tightly, that he was going to fall under the spell of her
and never be released.

After he had helped her dress, they hunted, and William felt something close
to joy, but less pure, at watching the pleasure that she took in giving
death. A light mist had started and he gazed at her through it as the air
became damper, the streets became grayer. He waited for the inevitable rain.

Drusilla seemed to be listening to something as she fed from her fourth
victim. At last she released the man and, as he slid bonelessly to the
ground, her small hand slipped into William's. "Mouths," she whispered,
"Making love. It's in your head. A pretty little thought."

He stopped and turned her to face him, and the rain began falling lightly
around them as he nodded. "Yes, Dru. Yes."

The kiss was tender, violent, and explosive at the same time, and the rain
was falling harder, making the kiss wet and cool, like drinking a glass of
lovely water. Drusilla sank her tongue into his mouth, licking at the cold
contours inside of him. He nipped at her lips, at her tongue, and felt
himself falling, falling into the mist and rain and the place between night
and day. Though Angelus had shared her in almost every way, he had not let
William kiss his newest childe, for reasons he had no reasons for.

And now William knew why.

Because something began in that kiss. Something unthought of, and unheard of
in vampires. A new kind of love was created, a love that transcended death
and souls and the beating of hearts. A love that was eternal and full of
loyalty and dark music.

And William knew that he would never let her go.
* * * * * *

It all ended there, of course. The moment Spike had thought of her as his--
truly his-- he knew that there would be nothing either of them could do to
escape each other. No punishment that Angelus could inflict upon him that
would change his feelings, no night would go by that Spike would not think
about her, the princess of night, the dark keeper of his heart.

He finally escaped from the ropes that held him and he bolted from his chair,
running for her. Drusilla, waiting for this, smiled at him for the last time.

Before she rammed the stake into her own heart.

She had told him not to question her, told him-- before knocking up
unconscious so that she could tie him up-- that it was the only way she knew
to ensure that his heart would forever be hers, the only way to make the
voices stop, the voices that said that Daddy no longer loved her and that
Spike would stop soon as well.

He had tried to reason with her. Perhaps there was simply no such thing as
reasoning with Drusilla.

And so she died.

And, for the first time in his immortal life, he wept. Two vampires falling
in love wasn't thought possible or reasonable, but it had happened. And now
he was left without her.

He lowered himself to his knees and let his hand drift down to the pile of
ash and dust that Drusilla had become. Ashes to ashes, he thought numbly,
and dust to dust. He felt the ashes were speaking to him, guiding his mind
where it needed to go, making him understand what needed to be done.

And he remembered.

All the pain and the terror and anger and lust had started with one of them,
the one who had driven her insane. The one who had, in essence, taken her
from Spike. The one who had created both of them in the first place, and
brought them to this point in time. A low growl started in his throat as his
sire's face appeared before him.

He stood, the simple thought of revenge clear in his mind.

He didn't look back as he left the room that held his dead lover. He didn't
need to, because it wasn't over yet. She wouldn't be dead, not really, if he
avenged her passing.

His eyes went blank and his thoughts turned red.

And the ashes were silent.

The End

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