No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man... behind blue eyes...

Spike stayed huddled in his corner for... he didn’t know how long. He just sat there, hoping and praying that she would come back to him soon. That she would come back to him as she was supposed to be. He was going crazy, and the waiting was making him even crazier.

 

He hadn't moved, he hadn't slept. He just waited, staring, never blinking or moving his eyes from hers. All the while, listening to the words the First had been whispering to him as he stared at her lifeless body.

 

Her eyes were open, staring at him as her body lay amidst the dust of the other vampires. She would be furious with him.

She will never forgive him. She will hate him.

She will dust him.

And no one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies...

 

“Do you know what you have done?” the First asked him, disguising itself as the woman he loved. Spike refused to take his eyes off the real Buffy, but listened to the First's words closely. “Do you know how badly you’ve screwed up?”

 

Spike took a deep breath, is voice wavering as he spoke the single word. “Yes.”

 

The First laughed, holding its hand to its stomach. “Do you think she will believe you when she wakes? That it wasn't really you? A recently souled vampire―with no proof of that fact―was mind controlled into siring her by your ghost. But wait! That's the sticky part, now isn't it, Spike? I didn't ask you to turn her. The blame for that is all. On. You."

“She will believe me. She will understand,” he whispered, saying it over and over again like a mantra. He could be dreaming, couldn't he? He had to be. He would never hurt Buffy. Not like this.

He loved her the way she was; human. Beautifully human, life pumping through her body in the form of the red liquid he lived on. Yes, there was always that part of his mind that told him to take her. To taste her. To make her his. But he never thought he would actually do it, he would never let himself act on it. But then it happened. While he was under mind control, no less, but it still happened.

 

He’d turned Buffy. His Golden Goddess was now a vampire, her life, power and courage had been snuffed out by his own actions.

It was all his fault. He should have gotten himself out of it, shaken it off somehow. He should have ignored the First and its taunting, its singing. He should have…

 

There was no point in the ‘should haves’ and ‘would haves’, because he couldn’t change the past. What’s done was done.

 

But my dreams they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours, only lonely...

 

“Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe she will...” Spike whimpered, resigning himself to his fate.

 

“She'll awake soon, and we can test that little theory out. You see,” the First morphed into Angel and bent down so he was face to face with Spike. “She doesn't love you. She will dust you as though you were nothing.”

 

‘Angel’ stood up, running a hand down a lapel of his jacket, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles. “You're looking at the man—or rather, vampire—that she does love. If it had been me who had turned her... Well, let's just say... the road you’re about to go down wouldn't be the road she'd put me on.” Angel smirked then winked at him, disappearing with a strange yellowish-green light.

 

Spike continued looking at the fallen Slayer, wondering how many more hours he would be sitting here, waiting for her to wake up. “Come on, come on, Buffy. Wake up,” he muttered.

 

He hadn’t planned to turn her when he’d entered the cellar with her yesterday. He was just going to show her the bodies, stake them then go home so she could figure something out to fix him. However, it had other plans. The First showed up, singing that little song in his ear and he couldn’t control himself. He just went ballistic.

 

~FLASHBACK~

 

Buffy had finished dusting the fledglings, wiping the dust off her hands on her pant legs.

 

“Spike,” she barked, causing the shaken vampire to jump, shortly coming out of his personal guilt trip.

 

Then it happened. Buffy was walking toward him, a disappointed look in her eye and the First began to sing. That stupid little song that always made him lose his mind.

 

He jumped up and Buffy stopped, staring at him in a mixture of confusion and fear. “What're you doing?” she asked, taking a tentative step back.

 

My love is vengeance that's never free...

He ignored her as he advanced, his demon visage sliding into place. “Why don't you love me like I love you?”

“Spike? You… you don't want to do this...” Buffy said calmly, continuing her retreat from him.

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice muffled by his fangs. “I'm tired of you treating me like the dirt you walk on. How many times have I proved myself to you? How many times have I saved you or Dawn, or even Xander? I did it so you would love me.”

 

He had backed her up into a corner. He took the last step toward her, their bodies flush against each other. He could smell the fear mixed with her arousal, intoxicating and musky. He started to grind himself against her, his hands slowly sliding up her sides. “I blame you, luv.”

 

No one knows what it’s like to feel these feelings like I do, and I blame you!

 

Buffy's breath hitched in her throat, but held her body perfectly still. She was stuck. She didn't want to hurt him, but she didn't want to lose her life either. If she could keep the conversation going, maybe she could calm him down. “Why do you blame me, Spike?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing.

A soft smile spread across his face as his hand lifted up and ghosted down the side of her face. “Because...” he replied, his smile slowly vanishing. He grabbed her by the back of her neck, hauling her body forward until his mouth hovered beside her ear. “You never let me feel anythin' but your hatred...”

 

He left the sentence open and ambiguous as his fangs sank into the soft skin of her neck. He took long pulls, crushing her between the wall and his body as she squirmed, whimpering his name.

When he felt her pulse slow, he retracted his fangs, slipping into his human guise as he tongued the twin puncture holes. “If you’d have just tried to love me...” he whispered, groaning as he used the blade of a table-saw beside them to slice his wrist open.

He brought his bloody wrist up and held it to her lips, making sure a good amount of his oozing blood went down her throat. “Tried even a little, tiny bit, I wouldn't resent you as much as I do now.”

He felt her mouth suckling at the gash in his skin, pulling the blood into her mouth with the last bit of strength she had.

No one bites back as hard on their anger. None of my pain and woe can show through

 

“You never allowed me to feel what I was feeling, to voice it. I had to hold everythin' in, bite every word of affection I wanted to tell you.”

 

He swiftly picked her up, listening to the last beats of her heart as he added his third slayer to his list of kills. She was staring up at him still, her eyes glassy and her lips slowly turning blue. He stared down at her in mock affection, belying every ounce of hatred his demon held against her at the moment.

 

“Now, you will be one of my kind, pet. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I will feel you. Know everywhere you go, everywhere you have been. I own you, now. You're mine.”

 

He kissed her forehead as she took her last breath.

As if someone had flipped a switch, he was himself again, the purest form of his demon squashed back down and the soul and chip emerged.

 

He stared down at the body of his beautiful slayer and he gasped in shock, horror and disgust. He dropped her, letting go of her as if she were a cross and grimaced at the hollow thud her body made as she hit the dirt floor.

 

He couldn't take his eyes off her as he stumbled backwards, back into the corner he was in before his memory lapsed.

 

~END FLASHBACK

 

The tears fell freely from his eyes, the guilt and despair rolling off him in waves.

 

He couldn't help it. He killed her. He drank from her like she was a stranger, treating her with about as much respect too. He felt horrible.

 

It was only fair that she would end his life. Dust him and laugh as he crumbled. There was no way he could deserve her love now.

No one knows what it's like to be mistreated, to be defeated behind blue eyes...

His head sank into his hands and he sobbed his grief with everything that he could muster. The new soul that inhabited his body along with the demon warred with each other, his demon feeling joy as his soul felt sorrow.

No one knows how to say that they're sorry, and don't worry, I'm not telling lies.

But my dreams they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours, only lonely. My love is vengeance that's never free.

No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes...

 

TBC