I imagine there comes in a time in every souled vampire's life where a fella gets a tad bit suicidal. Eternal torment an all that. Living forever sounds extremely good in theory, but as a matter of fact in practice, eternity can be a bit of a buzzkill. The world had changed. As is usual, I had no problem adapting, that's where blokes like Angel fell short, too bloody set in their ways. I hadn't had that problem, not once. I stowed away on the first ship off that horrific rock. Dunno what everyone finds so shocking about it, life out here is more or less exactly like good 'ol earth that was. Same people, same rules, different monsters.

But this eternity thing, take love, for example. Blood and peaches if the one you find happens to be destined for a long life too, but I find myself with a taste for tragic birds who die young, two of them, anyway. Hasn't been a one since, William the bloody is steering good and clear of love.

Then again, love isn't what I'm out for tonight, is it? I have very different intentions in mind. Companions. See, funny thing happened in the last few centuries. All the lovely little concubines got themselves together and threw a little girl power party, got lisences to do what they do, even made their own hooker union. Now every single one of them is a gorram expert on all things horizontal, not to mention usually a pleasure to be 'round. Down side of this deal? They've started charging what they're worth. Which means a fella like me can blow a couple weeks take on one lovely lady.

You'd think after five hundred years I'd have learned to save it for a rainy day.

This time of year especially, the loneliness eats away at me and I'd give anything for a pretty face around to talk to. I got a number and a name, along with a more than glowing recommendation. Don't even have to travel to this bit, she's headed for the area. Makes house calls, apparently. I set the note on the table in front of me. Inara Serra. All these girls sounded like they were named after Indian princesses. Dressed like it, too. I prepare to be pleasant and charming, letting out a breath and punching in the coordinates, waiting on an answer.

http://community.livejournal.com/justcrash_here/378.html

Bloody waste is what it is, my Dru going out like that. Humans are idiots alone, but what they can do when they all get together is stunningly stupid. Needless to say, the morning after, the entire town of Sanochi was in flames and a lone, brassed off vampire strolled from the chaos clutching a bottle of cheap liquor between two of his slightly scorched digits. It was a fitting tribute. She would have loved the flames, and the screaming. An they thought we caused trouble before, the ruddy fools. 'spose they'd know better next time.

Days I thought about her there was really only one sensible thing to do, get out and get laid. A town like good ol Sunny D was a vampire's playground, all the helpless people walking around like a bloody buffet, demon bars that were always good for a fight or a not so friendly game of poker...and of course, the magic box. Two of my very favorite things under one roof, girls, and booze. In unhealthy amounts. I contributed quite a bit of money down there. Not that I couldn't get a shag for free any time I wanted, I could walk down to the nearest bar and pick up a drunk chippie of any species and have seven different ways with her. But there's something to be said for a bird with skills. Some of the most talented women in the whole of the world did what they do best in that building. And I'm more than happy to do my part keep them in business.

I pass the bronze on my way, nearly bowled over by a couple cronies on the way, but I'm in a good mood, so they move on with all their limbs attached. One thing's for sure, I don't much feature joining up with any of those. Demons liked gangs, they liked to be in large numbers, something like a pack. Well call me not your average demon, but I'd done that, and didn't care for it at all. A pack's gotta have a leader, and I don't like bein' led.

I get down to the filter and toss my cigarette away, doin a quick count of my cash (well not my cash, some poor sap's) before rapping on the door with my knuckles. The hired help lets me in and recognizes me right off the bat, well of course she does, this is the place where everybody knows your name. Always thought it would be a bit cozier to have one of the girls show ya in, but I suppose that leaves a lady less time for 'business.' I don't look like the type to be carryin a wad of cash in his back pocket, leather jacket and tight wifebeater (great name for a shirt) an even tighter jeans. I'd painted my nails black an it was chipping, the black eyeliner round the rims of my eyes slightly smudged. She knew better though...

http://community.livejournal.com/the_magicbox/746.html

So this little shopping run turns out to be a night on the town. I should have figured, taking Dru along. God but she does make a show of it. Not that I mind, bein a bit of a showoff myself, but we aint got the numbers we used to. Me with that chip and her ill, with Dawn to worry about to boot. But it shouldn't surprise me one bit that none of that pops into her head.

That worry is tempered by having the most lovely girls in all of Sunnydale on each arm. Even better, they're both just tickled by the prospect of our night out. We walk right into a ritzy place that Dawn suggests, of course she's got expensive taste, that's how I seem to pick em....

Dru makes herself busy making a buffet out of patron and shopgirl alike while I watch fondly as Dawn weaves through the racks of clothing, those big ol blue eyes sparkling. If that isn't the defenition of beauty, well, we'll just have to rewrite the dictionary then, won't we?

I go to her side, my fingers brushing over the small of her back in a possesive way, hovering close, in case there's any question bout where she belongs. "see anything you fancy, kitten?" I could just always be touching that soft, warm skin...

Gotta keep moving. They'll find me, always find me, sooner or later. They'll get near and the fire will grow...till it swallows me whole. Like logs, they are.

Don't need any more sodding logs, got a whole bloody forest, I do. Burning it to ashes and all that's left in the rubble is me. Me and him.

Understand it now, I get it. Right and proper, the voices...little church mice tapdancing on my head. Not Welcome...not-

"GETOUT!!!"

My throat is raw from screaming, but there's nobody listening.

What I wouldn't give to be right, just this once, to be the right one. To be clean...to be whole...

Can't get that from rolling in the bloody dirt now, can we? Pick ourselves up, Gotta keep moving...


http://community.livejournal.com/nomore_dreams/11847.html

So hot...burning bright, there's a fire in my chest, do anything to get it out but you can't, scratch and cut all you want it's still just-

I didn't mean to, you know. It's all wiring, deep inside, wiring like bits of metal in my head making lightning. N-no, forgot bout that, didn't I? Bad dog learned his lesson, won't do it again, know better now, right?

Cept I don't. Don't know anything anymore.

Day, night, good, bad, what was that again? I won't bloody know if you don't bloody teach me now, will I?! Don't learn nothing from beatings, I don't. Nevertoo bright, always in the dark dark dark...

If I could just get to...where was I going? I stop and tug on my hair a strangled sob coming loose. Why are you crying?!! got no right to cry. filthy beasties don't cry, they bash and smash, and mangle...

"GOD SHUTUP WILL YOU?! I KNOW!" I whimper. "I know..."

It took some talking to get Dru to let the idea of Dawn go for the time being. But even after I'd worked it out of her head, it was a different business all together working it out of mine. For some reason, I couldn't think about anything else. Wild images played across my brain, forbidden desires came to play, triggered by Dru's encouragement. The parts of myself Buffy had encouraged me to hate were on a rampage.

Needless to say, all this thinking led to some extra carnal activity around the crypt. I wasn't quite back on track, but I was as close as a fella gets before going out and ripping out throats. What was a thinking, trying to blend in with that lot? trying to be the big strapping hero? No, not me, not 'ol William the bloody.

I'm walking the streets when I catch a scent I'd know blind.

http://www.livejournal.com/community/nomore_dreams/8413.html

I got quite the tendency for caring about the Summers' women, and there's a good reason for that. They're all incredible. Each in thier own individual way. Joyce, was the sweetest, strongest woman a man could have known. She didn't deserve this, not one bit.

I remember the first time I'd ever seen her, wielding an axe, a great deal like her eldest, that. I'd been so shocked I'd almost lost that one. Only two women I'd ever respected so much in all my hundred years. Her...and my mum. Both had extended me kindness when I least deserved it. I'd never forget that. Which is why I'm heading toward the damned territory of the Summers' home, to pay my respects. When who should intercept me, but the last asshole I want to deal with right now.

"You have got to be kidding." He steps in my way and I sigh, not willing to put up a fight. Aren't things bad enough now?

"I'm not going in."

"And you're not leaving those." I look at the lame bouqet of diasies clutched in my fist, wishing they were a little better. "You actually think you're gonna score points with Buffy this way?" Cor, he thinks this is about Buffy? Of course it's not about Buffy. I'm not stupid enough to try and work my way in before her mother's funeral. I'm not stupid enough to try and work my way in at all, at this point...

"This isn't about Buffy." I try to duck around him but it's no use, the kid's ten feet wide...

"Bull. We're all hip to your doomed obsession." I really couldn't hate him more right now if I tried.

"They're for Joyce."

"Like you care about her. I clench my jaw a bit an narrow my eyes at the asshole infront of me, but Willow steps in and I know better than to try and start anything. Not the time or place. I don't know why, but I plead my case anyway.

"Care? Joyce was the only one of the lot of you that I could stand."

"And she's the only one with a daughter you wanted to shag. I'm touched." My face contracts with rage, but Red's giving me a look so I don't do anything.

"I liked the lady. Understand, monkey boy? She was decent. She didn't put on airs. She always had a nice cuppa for me. And she never treated me like a freak." Good Christ I hope I'm not tearing up. As if things could get any worse.

"Her mistake."

I give up. If I want to say my peice to Joyce, I'll deal with the lady directly. I don't need to deal with this idiot. "Think what you want." I toss the sad looking flowers on the sidewalk infront of me and escape into the darkness, trying to get a handle on myself...

I don't know what I was thinking, that me and the slayer's little sister were what, pals or something? More likely she'd been coming to hang around my crypt in a fruitful effort to piss big sis off. Well she got what she wanted, Buffy is half past furious with me. That may have been because of the pass I made at her yesterday, too.

But who needs a slayer when I've got Dru by my side? This got nipped right in the bud and thank bloody hell it did. I run out to get her something to eat, ashamed I can't bring back anything warm. How's she supposed to get better on this crap I've been eating?

I stare at the paper bag in my hand with disdain before lighting a cig and exiting the butcher's shop. I'd have to pick up some extra dough to keep me in blood and smokes and still take care of my Dru...I'll do it though whatever it takes.

Like I got anything else to do with my time now, right?

I really can't begin to explain my mental state, least not when those two are in the same room. I'm with one of 'em, fine, everything's crystal clear. But throw both birds together and well...things get foggy. Honest, feels like there's one hell of a tustle going on in my head, but I already know the cure for that.

I stop by the liqour store on the walk back from Buffy's house- don't know why I still call it that... and pick up a bottle of Jack.

Why do I do this to myself? Every bloody time, I get mixed up with some girl and it's always trouble in the end. Only now it's two, so double the headache. Add all the scoobies on the homefront and trying to sort out just where to go from here...this chip in my brain...Let's just say it's been a bad month for Spike.

I've had a night or two in my life I'd wished I was dead, most of them occuring after I got this bit of metal lodged in my brain, but all this was worse than any of those times.

Well they do say it's always darkest before- Dawn. The one girl who'd ever took me at face value, and believe it or not, liked me. Sure she's got her issues with the demon thing, but she can't be expected to understand that, being human...

Just something about the thought of her in a house with that damned- soul or no soul, I want to do whatever it takes to keep him and her seperate as can be. Nothing good coming of that.

http://www.livejournal.com/community/nomore_dreams/9516.html

This was written by someone on a Spike community, but represents some of my opinions on the subject very clearly:

"As it is, some of you have by now realized that I am not a redemptionist. And whether that *bothers* you or not, I feel the need to explain something. I've said many times before, in different locations than this, that I love Spike in *all* incarnations, for he is my favorite character. Therefore, it is not his *soul* that bugs me, but the reasons behind, and the reactions *to*, that soul. I prefer Spike sans morality because I *do* in fact love the complexity that is his character: the grayness; the sheer inexplicable contradictory nature of Spike. And I feel that this personality is no more evident than when he is evil. The fact that there are so many facets to his being without any kind of conventional humanity is what makes him so enigmatic. I love that at one moment, he can pour endearment out over Dru , and then at the next drain someone dry with no remorse. I love that he can disregard all life, except for that of his paramour. I love that Spike's layers; his complicatedness came *before* he ever had an inkling of his so-called conscience.

And I HATE that people, meaning, of course, Buffy, felt the need to change all that.

I'm not deluding myself. I know that Spike went into the 'soul-searching' (pun very much intended), in an effort to appease Buffy (as well as to stop straddling shadow and become, as much has he could, either Man or Monster. And, sadly enough, he chose Man...), and he did so with his eyes open. He realized that the only way to be with the oh-so-righteous Slayer, was to become righteous himself. He knew that, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.

I don't appreciate the conditions to Buffy's love. The fact that Spike must jump through hoops and alter everything he's practiced for 100+ years just to be considered worthy in the eyes of a woman who, in my opinion, doesn't deserve him, makes me want to heave. And even still, after his soul was restored, all was not forgiven with the Chosen One (not that anyone really expected it to be, as nothing's easy for William). And once things did improve, the soul quickly became something for Buffy to hide behind, a kind of excuse for her continued, dare I say, *affection* toward the vamp. "He has a soul, now" was a phrase used often by Ms. Summers to justify her situation. And that's what bothers me. That Spike needed to be *justified*. That he was in a constant state of change to please her-who-could-not-be-pleased. And that he must prove himself anew in a futile effort to gain *love*, an emotion which should be *given*, not *earned*.

I'm not trying to disregard the admirable quality of his sacrificial gesture, surely not. But again, I felt the soul to be unneeded. No one should have to put up with as much shit as Spike endured throughout his slayer-loving tenure. And no one should have to so completely metamorphose just to continue fetching table scraps from an isolated, self-serving, petulant...well...bitca. And yet he did. And he did, and he did, and he did...until it did him in.

So, you can see why the concept of redemption is such an irritating one for a girl such as myself. Not to mention my feeling that corruption is a far more intriguing prospect. Because, change isn't always for the *better*, you know. And I like that. Meaning I would rather someone...oh, let's say...*Buffy*, be 'drawn to the dark' than Spike be...ugh...embraced by the light.

Now, I won't lie. I definitely am most fond of, as in *addicted to*, the violence, the darkness, the sinister attraction that is unadulterated Spike. Still, I *do* believe that adoring The Bloody means adoring *all* of him (a lesson Buffy could stand to learn), and so I am stating this piece o' my mind.

I'm an opinionated bastard, no doubt."

-jim_wicked