Your world is coming to its end
But you don't have to be afraid - I'm here for you
Save your happiness for tomorrow
And today we'll drown in your tears
A drop of your blood tastes like wine today
Come closer my dear
It is just the beginning of the end
Yes, I'm here for you
Save your happiness for tomorrow
And today we'll drown in your tears
A drop of your blood tastes like wine today
And because I love you so
And I'm here for you
Save your happiness for tomorrow
And today we'll drown in your tears
A drop of your blood tastes like wine today
Save your happiness for tomorrow
And today we'll drown in your tears
Your blood tastes like life today
Will you let it rain
Let it rain
So won't you let it rain
Oh, let it rain
Won't you let it rain
— H.I.M., “Beginning of the End”
The room was covered in blood. Her blood. It was everywhere, surrounding him, painting his vision in only red. She lay on the couch, her throat torn, the eyes he’d loved so much empty and lifeless. Still, he ran to her, taking her in his arms with a desperate hope that it wasn’t too late. That he hadn’t failed her.
But as soon as he held her, she began to crumble, her body breaking down until there was nothing but dust to slip through his fingers. A cold laugh rumbled through the room, and he looked up, meeting dark, dark eyes.
Spike sat up in bed, his bare chest covered in a sheen sweat, his body glistening in the moonlight from the open window. He ran a shaky hand through his platinum blond hair, wishing he could banish the images that still plagued his dreams away from his mind forever. Yet he knew nothing would push them away, not when they haunted his waking hours as well. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face as it had been the last time he’d seen it.
Cold, lifeless. Dead, open eyes staring, accusing…
Still trembling, Spike tossed off the covers and grabbed his jeans from the floor, pulling them up as he went to the window, looking over the London skyline. It had been ten years, and still he had yet to fulfill the promise he’d made to the woman he loved. Ten lonely years of losing himself to a mission he feared he’d never succeed in.
And in his search, he’d learned, discovering a world he’d once denied the existence of. And while he’d become a formidable force, he hadn’t been able to find the man – no, not a man – the monster he’d set out to destroy. The longer his search continued, the more frustrated he became, and he fought to stave off the helplessness that came with the fear of never being able to avenge the woman he loved. The only woman he’d ever love…
There were times he wanted to give up, to let it all end. The more time that passed, the less hopeful he got that he’d ever find justice for her. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Even if he never succeeded, he owed it to her to keep trying – it was the least he could do after he…
Spike shook his head, trying to push back the memories that would never go away.
He turned back to the bed, his tired body bringing him to eye it with longing, though he knew trying to sleep again tonight would be futile. After one of those dreams, it would be days before he could find sleep anywhere but at the bottom of a bottle.
He scratched at the stubble on his face as he looked at the clock, seeing it was only two in the morning. It was early enough still that he could find some action if he wanted, and he decided he might as well go back out and see what he could stir up. It was better than staying home alone with his nightmares…
However, no sooner had he made his decision than did the tinny sound of his mobile phone fill the small bedroom. His eyes flicked over to where it lay on his bedside table, and he knew that if someone was calling at this hour, it wasn’t for a mere social chat.
Not that he knew anyone who would call him simply to chat anyway.
Spike walked over to the table and picked up the phone, not recognizing the number on the caller ID. He flipped it open and answered it with a gruff, “Yeah?”
“Is this Spike? It’s Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. We met several weeks ago.”
Spike frowned as he tried to remember the man on the other line. “The nest in Southwark,” he said as an image of the man popped into his mind and he remembered meeting him when they’d both tracked down the same hunting party. Afterwards, they’d gone for a pint, and Spike had drank a little too much and divulged more of his life story than he’d meant to in the process.
Still, that didn’t explain why the man would be calling him. Unless maybe he read a bit too much more into the night than Spike had intended…
“Yes, well, I just received a call from a contact of mine in Los Angeles, California. It seems there’s a new master vampire trying to lay claim to his area, and well, when Gunn said his name, it reminded me of our conversation.”
“Yeah, how so?”
“He called the vampire Angelus.”
Spike stumbled back, his hand shaking again as the name echoed in his mind.
Angelus…
Do I have readers for this one? Please review. Pretty please? It'll make me happy... And my muse happy, too. *wink*