***
Mercy – pure and simple
Longing – cold and hollow
With sweet breath you’d come to warm me
But I held on too hard to only a memory
You lie there on the swollen ground
Deserted in your heart
Still longing for what yesterday’s lost
And for all that tomorrow might bring
And for all that tomorrow might bring
Passion lost – taken, stolen
The dreams we had and shared – shattered, broken
With sweet breath you’d come to soothe me
But I so blind and filled with fear
Would send you away from me,
There’s no hope in regretting now
All the pain that we could not see
We both knew what we wanted
And we took it believing it free
And we took it believing it free
-Mercy, Sarah McLachlan
Spike stumbled through the empty streets of Sunnydale, the rain thundering
around him, weeping for the loss of an angel. Spike wept too, she had been
his for a time, completely and wholly his. In all his life he’d never loved
any other creature as much as he had loved her, his beautiful redheaded
goddess. He screamed at the sky, cursing the heavens for reclaiming his
lover. She had been snatched from his arms when he had told her, were the
fates so cruel? He supposed so. He’d never told her he’d loved her before
that night, and he thought that was what had stopped her heart. But he’d
also never spoken her real name, was it possibly he’d shocked her so with
that word, to beautiful to pass his lips, that she’d ceased to live? He
hated himself. If he had simply answered as always, said “I know, pet”,
she would be alive. She would be by his side, laughing, holding his hand,
and promising to stay with him forever. She was gone. The truth sliced
into him like a blade, searing white hot pain shot through his heart, causing
more pain than a stake saturated in holy water could ever inflict. He body
was weary of life, now that his light was gone, her red hair lying still
in the cold earth. He lips pale now, no need to breathe her preciously
warm breath. The sweet breath that had often warmed him when he rose at
dusk, that had kept a rhythm while she slept, that had tickled his lips
when they kissed and had come in raspy gasped afterwards. It had been three
years to the day, and his heart ached at the loss, still, after so many
years. He was too lost in his memory to be saved,
only death would heal the wounds of his heart.
“Time heals all wounds,” she had said that once, the occasion lost,
only the words mattered, he wished that they could be true, but they never
could, because his wound was deep, unseen by any, save her. His heart was
gone now, she had taken the tattered remains with her on that fateful day.
“I’ll always come for you,” that’s what she had said, but it was three
years later and she hadn’t come. Not in his dreams, not in his fantasies,
not even in death, all he had were his memories. Too many, and yet to few,
they blended together, marring her perfect picture, nothing was clear anymore,
rather, it was like looking into a funhouse mirror and seeing a contortion
of reality. Each day he prayed that she would come, and each day she didn’t.
He hadn’t touched another woman since her, his passion spent in memories
of her, her body next to his, warming his cold flesh. She’d taken that
too, along with the dreams of happiness for centuries to come that
they had shared. She had told him she loved him a million times, maybe
more, and he had said it once, to afraid to let himself love, or be loved.
He’d silently pushed the topic away when it arose, never telling her, never
knowing how beautiful it felt to love her, until it was too late.
“Never regret anything you do, my love,” she’d told him after the first
time they’d made love, “if you do, then life isn’t worth living.” No regrets.
No, he couldn’t regret anymore, she’d taken that with her as well. Neither
of them could have foreseen the anguish they would both go through, they
both knew what they loved about the other. He brought out her dark side,
and she showed him his good side, and they both had wanted to share everything
with each other. For a moment they had, but at the highest price imaginable.