All About Spike

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Angel Redux
By Kimberly

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. This fic, however, is mine. Please don't take it without my permission.



Spike and Buffy stood on a high hill overlooking Sunnydale as the sky began to lighten. Most houses below them were still dark, the residents sleeping the sleep of the relatively innocent. A few lights distinguished the homes of ridiculously early risers.

"Spike!" cried Buffy, her voice redolent with anguish. "You've got to find shelter! The sun is coming up!" And, indeed, the dark sky was growing slightly rosy with the imminent dawn, its pink glow reflecting off Spike's shellacked hair so that it attractively matched the color of Buffy's Wet Shine nail polish.

Pressing one hand to his forehead in despair, Spike moaned, "After all the horrible things I have done, I do not deserve to unlive any longer! I will dust myself in the Christmas sunrise!"

Buffy frowned in confusion. "Christmas? But it's only May."

Spike glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, still holding his brooding pose. He cleared his throat.

"After all the horrible things I've done, I do not deserve to unlive any longer! I will dust myself in the Memorial Day sunrise!"

Buffy nodded approvingly, then caught herself. "No! Spike! Don't you realize ... now that you have a soul, you have a get-out-of-jail-free card! You can change your name slightly, and claim that it wasn't you who did all those terrible things! It was ... it was Spikelus!"

Spike wrinkled his forehead in an attempt to look Angelic, but managed only to look a bit constipated. But Buffy knew that couldn't be what was really going on, since vampires don't get constipated. And, come to think of it, it did look a bit like Angel, after all.

"No, Buffy!" Spike exclaimed at length, after sighing heavily. "You don't understand what it's like, to feel the weight of so many crimes, to smell the blood on my hands. ..." His eyes shone with a bit of pleasure at that last thought, but he quickly masked his expression again, looking tortured and guilty. "I cannot contaminate your life any longer with my presence! I am evil! An evil, disgusting thing!" Spike turned slightly to present a more attractive angle of his profile, looking tragically heroic.

"But, Spike ... I love you! You can't just leave me! The world revolves around me and what I want! And I want you!" She stomped her little stylish-yet-affordable boot petulantly.

Spike turned toward her slowly and looked earnestly into her professionally Maybellined eyes. "Are you saying that you could forgive me, Buffy? For everything?"

Buffy smiled radiantly at him, "Of course! You have a soul, now, and everything is different."

Nodding reluctantly, Spike sighed, "Well, if you're sure."

Buffy took his arm to lead him down to her house on Revello Drive, where she planned to take full advantage of his complete and utter lack of happiness clause.

- Fin -

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