full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
Where Do I Stand? by Thianna
1 - My Hope
Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.

A/N: I wrote this using Spike's POV. So please let me know if you want me to continue this way or if people would rather see this as a third person point of view.
Initially Spike/Dru but will eventually get to Spuffy goodness. My characterizations are not exactly true to canon here so please forgive me and I hope that doesn't discourage people from liking the fic.


CHAPTER 1 - My Hope

... sometime around 1881 ...

I could feel her soft body pressed against mine as I pinned her ever so slightly against the cold alley wall. Her soft lips parted slightly wanting more of my affection as my strong arms wrapped around her small frame and added urgency and need into the kiss. She was lost in the moment, slowly succumbing to the need her trembling body was aching for. The young gentleman façade that had lured into the shadows with me was gone as I peppered kisses down her neck. Her heart beat faster with anticipation as my lips sought for the tender flesh that was to be my prize. Soft lips and blunt teeth teased her neck until I heard the moan that my ears were searching for. She would never realize it until it was too late that this fantasy of hers was to be her death. I waited patiently making sure she was lost in her fantasy before revealing my actual intent. Blue eyes were traded for amber as my true nature came forth and I drowned myself with her blood. The foolish girl tried to struggle which made me all the more jubilant. Holding her tightly and savoring her fading warmth, sweet blood coated my tongue and filled my throat. Then it was over. Her life spent and nothing else was left but an empty shell of flesh.

“That is my good little William. My precious Spike.” Drusilla said in dulcet tones from behind me.

I felt her cold arms wrap around me as her tongue darted out to lick the blood from my lips. My Dark Princess had come to join me and a feeling of comfort washed over me.

“Mmmm…” she said rubbing her belly. “I want to play. Does my Spike want to play with me tonight?”

I leaned my head against her and sighed in contentment. My arms found their way around her waist and I pulled her roughly to me which made her giggle enthusiastically. With a devilish grin, my lips attacked hers passionately enjoying the little mews that were rumbling from her throat. I pulled away from her after a while and saw the passion and lust that I was sure was mirrored in mine. My mouth found its way towards her neck, teasing and licking her smooth skin with lips and tongue and that was when a sense of disgust started growing inside me again. I could smell him. I could smell that damn poofter all over my sweet Dark Princess. The grin that was on my face was quickly replaced with a scowl. “But you smell like him Dru. How could you? How long must I share you? I thought you loved me.”

“I do my sweet,” she said caressing my hair. “I do love you.”

“I want you to be mine,” I said trying not to sound like a child.

“But we both belong to them.”

“Bloody hell! I don’t bloody belong to them. I don’t want to be anyone's but yours.”

Drusilla planted kisses on my face and held me close to comfort me. “My dear William. You will be lost to me before long. The pixies tell me this. They tell me of another. Soon there will be another. But we will dance and we will play. I must teach you. It would be a shame if Mummy doesn’t teach you.”

I shook my head and sighed. Dru was talking in riddles again and when she started nothing ever made sense.

“Come and play?” she cooed into my ear and I knew even though Angelus's scent was all over her, I could never resist her kisses. I love her that much. So we sank further into the shadows and my body surrendered itself to her touch. I could pretend for a little while when she moaned my name and wriggled beneath me that she was mine and mine alone. Though I knew deep down that there would be this ache inside later when she would turn from me to be in Angelus' arms. I was immortal. I was undead. But even in this existence love, true love, eluded me.

My thoughts drifted to Cecily – the woman who belittled me in my mortal life. Even now, years after her rejection, her words sear like a hot poker being rammed into my heart. I wanted to forget the pain, but it would somehow surface in the most inopportune moments like now.

I closed my eyes and thought of Dru. I tried to shut everything else out except for her, my wicked plum. My senses focused on giving her what she wanted till I myself was lost in the rhythm of our movements. Her moans grew louder as I thrust deeper into her. I was hoping against hope that maybe that would be enough to burn my grandsire from her thoughts. Someday. ... Someday there would be a woman with me that would truly be mine. She would want no other but me. Perhaps it is a foolish notion for a vampire to hope for. But it was hope. My hope.

… a few nights later …

Another night of unrest. At least my Dark Princess was by my side. She moved ever so slightly as her sleeping frame found a more comfortable position. I let my hand rest gently against the small of her back as my fingers absentmindedly drew patterns onto her skin. She stayed with me tonight and I felt a small ounce of joy that she had found some comfort in my embrace. But who knows how long this was going to last? I knew that the only reason my wicked plum was with me now was because Darla had returned from her visit with the Master. Angelus had missed her and there was no room in their play for Dru. A week? ... Maybe two? … That would most probably be all I would have until Angelus starts asking for his beloved daughter once more. And when that time comes, no amount of violence, gifts or bloody trinkets would be enough to keep my beloved princess from her sire’s cold embrace.

If I wanted it, I could warm my bed with Darla. I could bury myself and my sorrow into her open arms and I knew she would do her best to kiss me and make me forget for a little while. Angelus would be furious if that happened though and that notion alone made the idea worth trying. But there were no feelings there -- not for her. She was my grandsire and nothing more. She would let me sit beside her and if she was in a mood, allow me to rest my head on her lap. She would run her fingers through my hair comforting me like a small boy but the time we would spend together seemed nothing more than a formality. We were family after all. One at least had to be civil on occasion.

I hated this. Couldn’t Dru see how much this was agonizing me? I would have glimpses of her while Angelus had her at his whim. This wouldn’t do. I couldn’t allow this anymore. She would see. She had to see that I am just as good if not better than him. Just watch Dru. I’ll make you proud of me. I’ll make you crave me and only me.

... a number of months later ...

But nothing worked. Dru was only mine for what always seemed like the briefest of moments. The nights were strewn in killing and bloodshed since that was what she wanted ... that was what they taught me. I listened to Angelus’ sadistic methods and not once complained at Darla’s tactics. This was my nature. This was my calling and they were my family. Killing was more than the need to survive now. It became art. It became poetry. The streets became my canvas, blood became paint and with fists and fangs I created masterpieces. But no matter how much I emulated Angelus and no matter how much I tried to appease all of my Dark Princess’ wants and needs it never seemed enough for her. The restlessness was growing inside me until I finally deciding that I was never going to be like Angelus. Nor did any part of me want to. I would cut my own sodding path and burn my own bloody stamp into history. And just when I was starting to learn who I was and what I wanted in this unlife, she entered it.

She was nothing more than a farmer’s daughter but she walked with the air of a princess. It wasn’t one of pompousness but one of true majesty and grace. I saw her when I was out hunting near the alleyways one evening. She made me forget about the hunt as my senses wanted to be filled with her. I followed her then, walking in the shadows until she got home. Then every night after that sought her out. I wanted to spend each night just watching her through the dirty window of her modest dwelling … hoping that maybe I would catch a glimpse of her beauty from afar. My fingers ached to run through her long blond hair and I wondered if her hands would be soft or rough from manual labor. Her modest clothing hid a body whose curves would entice any man. Would she moan in delight if I played with her? Or would she scream in passion when ecstasy took over. How would she taste? Sweet? Rich?

Night after night I followed and watched fascinated with her beauty and captivated by her smile.

“Elizabeth …” I would murmur into the night sky and watch her smile and laugh and imagine they were for me.


A/N: Again, please review and let me know what you think. Should I continue this as Spike first person point of view or switch this to third person? Let me know and thanks for reading.