Kindred Series

Kindred: (noun) A group of related persons, such as a family, clan, or tribe.
(adj.) Having a similar or related origin or nature.






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BOOK ONE
JOURNALS & JOURNEYS
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Chapter Eight
Spike’s Journal – A Clear Vision

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Day 11

Not one bleedin’ clue as to what I think I’m trying to do here. C’mon, Spike, get it together. You can do this. Humph. Never in my worst nightmares thought I’d be my own soddin’ cheerleader. All right then, close your eyes, breathe deep, rest a moment, open the eyes, and focus. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah… Finished off nearly a fifth of Jack Daniels so far today. Think I might almost be ready to deal with the subject of Buffy now. Cor. This is hard. I don’t think I can do this. I feel physically ill every time I let my thoughts start down this path. But I have to do this. I need to do this. I can’t keep putting it off. It was easy enough to do when I was lying unconscious on the floor of that cave, or wandering half delirious through the jungle, or even when I was still recuperating, but I can’t avoid this forever. I’ve never backed down from a fight or a challenge before, but this is different. I’ve never been this scared before in my life or unlife... Because I need to confront my demon(s) – real and imagined – about Buffy and what happened before I left – all of it, too, not just that night at her house. Because I can’t go back and face her until I face myself, and I’m afraid of what I’m going to see when I do. I’m afraid of what I’ll feel. I’m afraid of what I’ll want. Bugger it. I’m just plain afraid, and that’s an emotion I haven’t felt in a long time. Fear for others – hell, yeah… like when Niblet was up on that tower, or when Buffy threatened to stake Dru our first time in Sunnyhell. But fear for myself – no. So, how do I overcome that?

‘Kay, I’m back now. Had to take a break and grab a fag. Got me another bottle of JD to keep me company for this. Mitchell had the bottle ready for me when I walked back to the house. I swear he knows what I’m thinkin’ sometimes. How is that possible? No matter, but I actually managed a genuine smile of gratitude for both him and Ruth as he handed over the Jack and she walked over with a fresh pack of fags and an ashtray for me. I’ll have to think of something nice to do for them. I’m really going to miss them when I leave here. And I will have to leave… not right away, but soon enough. I can’t hide out here forever. But I have to deal with this first before I can even think about the future. So, let’s get on with it, then. Time to face fears, Spike, m’ boy.

Okay. I’ve been staring at my bloody drink for the past 20 minutes now and I can’t see anything except a pair of hazel eyes looking at me with pain and betrayal. And I’m frozen from the inside out as my mind and heart twist and churn for being the cause of her pain. How am I supposed to work through this if I can’t even think rationally? Maybe I should try to work up to that point in time and deal with other things first? Hmmm. That might not be such a bad idea. Face things in the order they happened. I can do that. Go back to when I first met Buffy. Yeah, that’s it… Nope, that won’t work. Still seein’ those pained eyes staring back at me in shock at what I’d done, what I’d tried to do. No, don’t go there. Not yet, anyway. Okay, where can I start that’ll work up to this gradually without packing that emotional wallop? Not with Buffy or any of her friends or family… I know, I’ll start with Slayers. That makes sense, right? Buffy’s a Slayer, but I’ve known – or rather killed – other Slayers and I can think about them clearly enough. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll start with my first Slayer and work into this slowly but surely. Good plan, mate. ‘Course we all know how my plans usually work out. Bugger it! I’ve got to start somewhere if I’m ever gonna get through this and this is as good a place as any. So, here goes nothing.

Let’s see. I first heard about Slayers from Angelus. He was trying to scare me to keep me from acting out and bein’ all impetuous-like. Hah! Even then he was a big ponce – tryin’ to act like ‘e was an artist or somethin’ with his kills. Yeah, right. Artists create. Angelus did nothing but destroy everything ‘e touched. He destroyed Dru. He tried to destroy me, but I wouldn’t let him. He tried to force me to be like him and when I wasn’t, he’d punish me. His punishments were brutal, (never have forgotten the excruciating mental and physical pain I experienced at his hands), but I wasn’t about to let him beat me down. I’d cowtow for a while and let him think he had control, but then I’d do something to remind him that I was my own man, not his trained dog. Drove him crazy, I did. He didn’t care too much for me right from the get-go, but he tolerated me because Dru wanted me around and I cared for her, took care of her… that was something ol’ Angelus never could do, never wanted to do. He made her crazy all right, but he left me to pick up the pieces when she’d fall apart…which she did on a pretty regular basis. Between her memories of what he’d done to her (and to her family), her visions, and his torture (although he got her to the point where she enjoyed that, craved it even)… she was pretty much around the bend by the time she turned me. And when I woke up after bein’ turned, all I knew was that this dark, beautiful woman was my sire and I owed her everything. So I tried to give her everything…everything that I could anyway - everything that he’d let me give her. He owned Dru and he never let me forget it, did he? He was her sire and he used her anyway it pleased him and then he’d let me come in and care for her…clean up her wounds, wash away the blood, calm her tremors… whatever she needed… I was the one who gave her those things, not him. And that kept me alive more times than not during those first few years.

I was useful to Angelus as a nursemaid for Dru, so he kept me around. But he didn’t like me and he didn’t care for how I conducted myself one whit. I’d go out lookin’ for a fight instead of a kill. I’d usually get both in the end, but I sure enjoyed the violence leadin’ up to the kill just as much as actually feedin’ and that’s what he just didn’t get. He enjoyed torturing his victims – physically and emotionally, but he always made sure he was in a dominant position first. He was never in any sort of danger from his victims. He made sure of that. Now me… I thrived on the challenge. Pit myself against a worthy foe and see who comes out on top! Oh, yeah. Bloody great, too. Every time I did that, the kill was glorious – the thrill of victory would sweeten the blood till it tasted like a fine wine. I reveled in that feeling. Made me feel like I was king of the world. Took me to new heights. Well, seemed like heights back then. Guess it’s more like depths now. Don’t really know. Rememberin’ the fights, the challenges, the obstacles, the victories – those still appeal to me. Guess that’s the fighter in me that can appreciate those things. But the end result – the kills…makes me sick to think about now. Hell, I was just bein’ a vampire. Kill humans and drink their blood. That’s what vampires do. Not like I ever asked to be a vampire anyway. Just mindin’ my own business when Dru found me and turned me. I should have lived a normal life, married some chit, raised a gaggle of kids in merry ol’ London. ‘Stead I died a rather foppish man at a very early age and came back a demon intent on rejecting everything from my former life. Changed my name, my dress, my way of talking… established my own killing methods and fighting style… tried to prove I was my own man to Angelus and Dru and Darla (that bitch). Never could stand her. Had mixed feelings about both Dru and Angelus on more than one occasion. He was the only male model I had for a number of years after becoming a vampire, after all. And she, well, she was my Dark Goddess. I worshipped her for years. I’ve both loved and hated each of them in my own fashion. But I never wavered on my feelings for Darla. She was a stone-cold bitch and I’ve always hated her. ‘Course she hated me, too. Fine with me, ‘cept that she was Angelus’ sire and I bore the brunt of her hatred through his unusually cruel methods. Wonder how much of his treatment of me was him and how much was her? Oh, well. Too late to wonder about that. Too long ago to make a difference now. Motives wouldn’t change the outcome of actions, now would they? Well, would they? Because if they don’t, then why am I even botherin’ to think through my own motives and actions. Bleedin’ waste of time in that case. Won’t make a difference to what I done. Bloody hell!

Okay. Deep breath. Calm down. Maybe thinkin’ of Angelus wasn’t such a good idea. Or Dru. Or Darla either for that matter. Too many strong emotions tied up with that lot. Start over again and get back on track. Where was I now? Oh, yeah. Angelus was the first one to tell me about Slayers. He was tryin’ to scare me into behavin’ and lyin’ low ‘cause we got run out of a town due to some of my “activities”… hah! Boy did that one backfire on him. Instead of scaring me, it intrigued me. The idea of this one girl with speed and strength to match that of a vampire, trained in the ways of fighting and killing us…that was just too much for me to resist. She would be the ultimate opponent – better than other humans, stronger, more resilient – and I just had to see if I could triumph over her. What a way to prove myself…to all of them… and to me, too. Not even Angelus had ever beaten a Slayer. So, I started searching for her. Everywhere we went, I’d ask questions, try to find out more about her and her abilities, try to find out where she was. I was obsessed with finding her. I started training harder myself, learning more and testing my skills, wanting to make certain I was as strong as possible when I encountered her. And I had no doubts that I would eventually find her. I was convinced of that inevitability, and I wanted to be ready when it came to pass.

And eventually it did. I found her in China. We were there for the Boxer Rebellion. Bloody time it was. No pun intended there. Blood literally flowed through the streets of the city. The four of us had a splendid time. No one noticed our killing amongst all the death and destruction that was all around. Total chaos. Bloody beautiful chaos. And at the very height of it all, I found her…the Slayer. My heart soared when I realized who she was and I laughed. I think that surprised her – me laughing. Most vampires make threats, attack or run away. Not me. I just laughed and jumped into the fight confident that I was ready to face her. She may have been taken aback by my behavior, but she didn’t let it throw her off her game at all. She leapt into the fray with me, both of us knowing that one of us would not walk away. It was absolutely magnificent – that fight. Never felt more alive since I’d been turned, and probably before then, too. People were screaming in the streets. I could hear them, but I tuned them out. Nothing mattered but the fight. The buildings around us were burning. I could see the flames, but the fire of our battle burned brighter by far and I was mesmerized by it. I can still see every move we each made as we danced that night. And truly that dance touched me, burned me from the inside out, changed me. It was over all too soon. I triumphed, killed my first Slayer and sampled her blood. I didn’t drain her though. Didn’t seem right to do that – not honorable for such a worthy opponent, if you will. But I did taste her blood – the spoils of war to the victor and all that rot. Her blood burned – seared my throat, my entire being. Dru came in just after that. I was still high from the rush of the fight, the victory and the slayer’s blood and I took her right there on the spot. It was passionate and fierce and it felt so right at the time. And when we walked out of that burning building, I was a new man. I had a new air of confidence and it showed. Even ol’ Angelus saw that. I could see it in his eyes. He even admitted that I was “one of them now” and that struck me. I finally belonged somewhere. I finally fit in. And all it took to accomplish that was the death of a girl. One girl… One girl who had challenged me like no other. One girl that I could face as a true equal, a worthy opponent. But it didn’t satisfy me. I wanted more. I wanted to feel that high again. Not the kill, although that was good. I wanted to feel the thrill of that glorious fight again. To be matched against such a worthy foe was what I desired more than anything else. I just knew that nothing else would ever again satisfy me like that had. I wanted to face that one girl, the Slayer, over and over, again and again and again.

It wasn’t long after that our “little family” split up. We ended up in Romania and we all know what happened to Angelus there. Bleedin’ prick went and got himself cursed with a soul. I had mixed feelings about that back then. I hated what had been done to him. It was a vile and cruel thing to do to a vampire. And I hated the gypsies for catching him and doing that to him. It made my skin crawl when I realized what they had done. But mostly though, I just hated HIM – because he walked out on us afterward. Yeah, he was a prick, that grandsire of mine, and I couldn’t stand his guts most of the time… But he was also my family and it hurt when he left. Darla left that same night, and I have to say that I was not at all sorry to see her go. Wouldn’t have expected anything less from her. I actually did a little jig when I realized she was truly gone. But first I got good and drunk over Angelus deserting us. Me drunk in the living room of our house listening to Darla pack and Dru wail... That’s what I remember about that night. Angelus left. Darla walked away without looking back at the two of us. Dru fell apart. And I was left to pick up the pieces…like always. Which I eventually did, but first I had to deal with what had happened. Because Angelus hadn’t just left, now had he? Oh, no. First he had to come see us. Wish he’d never done that, even now. ‘Cause if he’d just disappeared, then we could have believed he’d been dusted or something. But no, he has to come see us and let us know he’s got a soul. But he doesn’t say anything, does he? No apologies and no explanations. No, he just stands there and stares at us all quiet-like, until Darla realizes what’s happened and freaks out, ordering him to get out of her sight as she walks off. Then he looks at me and Dru like the sight of us repulsed him, before he walks away too. Now that I’ve got m’ own soul back, I can honestly say that it probably did make him sick to look at us. To look on the two of us and know what we were, what we’d done, what we would continue to do…and know that he was responsible for all of it – Dru’s insanity, my murderous tendencies, the violence, the bloodshed, the immortality – must have been more than his bleedin’ conscience could stomach at the time. (On a side note here, sure am glad I never made any Childer. Hard enough carryin’ m’ own sins without having to shoulder the burden of someone else’s transgressions.) But I didn’t see it that way back then. All I saw was him walkin’ out on us, desertin’ us. And it hurt – the way he looked at us, the abandonment – and I hated him for hurtin’ me ‘n’ Dru like that. I swore that night I’d never let him hurt me again. ‘Course that was one more promise I couldn’t keep. Don’t go there. You don’t want to think about Dru and soddin’ Acathla and bloody wheelchairs. Not now. Keep on track, mate. Deep breath… So, what happened after Angelus left? Oh, yeah… I got drunk and spent some time stewin’ in m’ own juices, and when I was done thinkin’… well, I got Dru and we left. I didn’t look back for several reasons… Because I hated him more for leavin’ us than for anything else he’d ever done to me or Dru. Because you don’t walk out on family. Because in the end, Angelus brought what happened on himself by killin’ that gypsy chit, and I decided that if someone had to suffer like that…well, better him than me. Besides the prick had a lot of payback comin’ his way, and when I thought about some of what he’d done to me in the past, I started to smile thinking of the pain he’d be feelin’ now. So, I forbade Dru from ever talkin’ about him again, promised her I’d take care of her always and we left Romania and never returned to that cursed place. (Too bad I couldn’t learn my lesson well enough about cursed places with that incident. Maybe then I would have had enough sense to stay away from Sunnyhell after my first misadventure there. Then again, maybe not.)

I don’t even want to think about all the people Dru and I killed over the next few decades. We cut a bloody swath across the European continent and I never regretted a moment of it until now. But now’s not the time for that guilt… that can come later. And it will come…like it already has…again and again and again. Can’t say that havin’ a soul is exactly a fun thing at this point. Now’s not the time for those thoughts though. Right now’s the time to think of Slayers. Yeah, right…Slayers. After killing my first Slayer, I hungered for another fight like that first one. I thirsted for it. I desired it like nothing else. I’d already become a Master Vampire in my own right and had built up quite a reputation, but it didn’t satisfy me. I knew I wouldn’t be truly satisfied until I had bagged another Slayer, so I kept searching. I found her in New York on the subway in 1977. This fight was even better than the first. This Slayer was a graceful dancer and our moves were beautifully choreographed. Whereas before I had admired the first Slayer’s moves looking for an opening to make the killing strike… this time I drew the dance out as long as I could just admiring her. Feinting, spinning, kicking, we fought for time untold – minutes really, but it felt like hours – in that subway car. We were the only two creatures there. No one else to admire the beauty of our dance, the splendor that was our fight. In the end, I killed her. I snapped her neck. She almost had me for a moment there, but then I gained the upper hand and it was over. I had killed my 2nd Slayer and no one could touch me now. I didn’t taste this one though. Didn’t taste the powerful and rare elixir that is Slayer’s blood. This one was a different sort of combatant than the first slayer I’d faced. Don’t get me wrong – they were both warriors and worthy opponents. However, whereas the first one was all form and movement, this one was all about style and flow – more like unto me, and I guess I felt a kinship of sorts with her. I gazed at her beautiful fierce face for a moment – so peaceful in death, and I knew I couldn’t drink from her. It wouldn’t have been sporting to have marred her neck like that, and I do have a sense of honor about some things, so I didn’t do it. But I still needed something to remember our dance by. So, I took her leather duster and made it my own. Wore that thing everywhere for the next twenty some odd years. Until just a couple of weeks ago, it was like a 2nd skin to me. I left it at her house that night when I ran out the door. Now, I don’t know if I can ever put it on again.

Okay, time for another fag and some more JD. Good thing I’m not exactly “normal” with a regular human constitution. I’d have spent more than half of my time in the bathroom either relieving myself or throwing up from all this liquor on an empty stomach. ‘Course I’m not half as drunk as I’d like to be to sort all this out. The subject matter I’m dealing with apparently has the miraculous ability to sober me up. How ‘bout that? Oi, now. Ruth just yelled out to let me know that dinner’s ready. I can’t believe I’ve been out here all bloody day and this is as far as I’ve gotten. This might take me longer ‘n I thought originally. But I’ll work through this if it kills me… well kills me again, that is. I’m beginning to think it just might at that.

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