Failing

Prague 1902

February...

He hadn't stumbled upon anyone else out so late at night in the cold. He had however, found something else…a small nest of vampires who'd weaseled an invitation into someone's house on the outskirts of town and taken it over. The smell of blood and death that hung about the place once they'd settled in had led him there. The previous owners were long dead of course; their remains more than likely buried or disposed of nearby. The vamps had found themselves a meal for the night, having snatched a couple out walking whom they'd taken back to their lair.

What he'd done was risky and foolish, something he wouldn't even have attempted if not for the overwhelming need to regain control before he started hallucinating again. He'd do whatever he could to stop the visions from taking over his life now that he was finally learning to handle them. Unless he wanted to fall into madness, he had to feed regularly and stay strong. Seeing no other option, he'd opted for the last resort—he'd stolen the vampires' meal.

Spike examined the cut on his hand as he made his way back to the alley to find the demon's scent again. He'd wasted more time but the trail should still be there. He was tired, but the blood had energized him and his wounds would heal. He should be able to fight just fine by the time he located it.

One vampire taking on a nest of four was not what one would call ideal odds. He could very well have been killed or badly maimed by interfering. Still, he'd been hungry, and they weren't sharing. There'd been no trees around, so he'd known he'd have to go in unarmed, aside from his own fangs, and improvise once inside. Houses were full of wooden furniture, after all.

At least he'd had the element of surprise on his side. When he'd barged in on them, he'd kicked the door open so hard that it had slammed against the wall, the lock snapping clean off. They'd stood there, dumbstruck, just long enough for him to turn and grab the leg of a tiny table near the door and snap it off, providing him with a weapon. Two of them had come to their senses and charged him, the others had hung back to keep control of the man from whom they'd been about to feed.

Funny how easy staking your own kind could be. Other than when he'd had to fight the Master's boys with Angelus, Spike hadn't needed to kill vampires once he'd become one. Apparently everything he'd learned as a Hunter had stayed with him; how his enemy would move, what attacks they'd favor. Vampires usually went in for the bite first, meaning they'd try to pounce on you and knock you off balance with their weight. Dodging that move had allowed him to sink the stake into the back of one of the vamps fairly quickly, leaving him with just three to deal with.

If it failed to grab you, a vampire usually relied on its speed and agility to land a flurry of kicks and punches that would force you into a corner or, preferably, knock you on your arse, leaving you wide open to attack. That was where using the enemy's strength against him came in. Spike had dodged each attack and kept just out of reach, turning to avoid being backed into the other vampires or forced into a corner, so that his opponent had tired and grown frustrated. Vampires weren't known for patience. The more times he'd missed, the angrier the vamp had become, until he'd stopped thinking about avoiding the stake and focused more on landing a hit. That led to him being dusted rapidly after a failed punch.

The other two had been more careful. They'd tossed the man into a far corner from which he was unable to escape since the fight had blocked his only exit. The woman they'd caught lay still on the floor close to the man, blood covering her dress. Spike didn't have time to assess her injuries as he'd had to fight against the cautious yet furious pair.

He'd come close to staking one when it thought his attention was on its companion, but his hunger made him dizzy and sluggish after fighting the other two. That's when he'd received the cut on his hand, the other vampire slashing it with its fangs while he fended it off. They'd dragged him to the floor but he'd managed to roll out from under them before they could pin him down and had staked both in quick succession.

He was almost at the alley now. At least he didn't have company this time. His ghosts were giving him some peace, though who knew how long that would last. Hopefully he'd get this done quickly and be back in his crypt before sunrise. More determined the closer he got, Spike wiped his chin again, still able to feel the sticky traces of blood that wasn't his own drying into his skin.

The man had cowered in the corner, his eyes vacant as he stared at the dust covered floor. It had given Spike time to assess the situation. The woman was past saving. She wasn't dead yet, but he'd known from the weak flutters of her heart and the blood still dripping from the various bite marks on her body that it wouldn't be long. The vamps had taken their time; played with their food.

Spike had picked the man up and sunk his fangs in just as the man began to protest. He'd screamed. Spike had drunk, leaving the man with enough blood to still be conscious enough to wander home in a daze. After all, Spike wasn't intending to stick around once he'd taken care of…things. The almost drained woman had provided him with the rest of what he'd needed. No need to fret over those with no chance for survival.

There it was.

Spike stared up at the rooftop over which the demon had vanished. He'd have to climb up there to follow it, and it would be easier to remain unseen, not that many people were out at this time of night. He just hoped its lair would be accessible and that the trail wouldn't be too hard to follow. It couldn't be that far away surely? If it used paralysis it must take its time eating. Either that or it preferred its food alive while it ate.

Spike grimaced. He wasn't looking forward to this. Setting his jaw in determination, he started to climb.

***

When he eventually tracked it down, he'd ended up in another cemetery, this one looking more decrepit and neglected than the one he was staying in. Food must have been scarce if it had come into the city. It appeared to be haunting the outskirts, not daring to venture further in, suggesting that it didn't normally take up residence in such a populated area.

The demon had dragged its latest prey into the cemetery, but hadn't managed to haul its victim inside what looked oddly like a burrow near the base of a tree. The scent of blood filled the air and Spike was thankful he'd fed fully earlier. The demon tilted its head back and greedily swallowed a bloody mess of flesh. A small whimper came from the lump in front of it. Dinner was still alive.

Spike had seen enough. He prowled closer, pausing only when the demon stiffened, raised its head and inhaled deeply. There was a loud hissing sound and it spun to face the vampire, its claws scraping the ground and blood trickling from its open mouth.

"Hello, mate," Spike said, flexing his fists and running his tongue around one sharp fang as he prepared for the fight. "Sorry to interrupt but it seems I have unfinished business with you."

The demon glared at him and pounced. It was small and skinny but made up for its lack of strength by being agile and wary about its attacks. Spike heard his coat tear when the demon's claws tore into the fabric on its first lunge. He'd dodged, but it had come close. He'd need to be better prepared to avoid a slash to his face or other exposed skin.

Spike found himself standing next to the creature's victim. He saw a pair of brown eyes darting around in their sockets, the only part of the man that could move, before Spike was forced to turn his attention back to his opponent, who scurried forward again, standing upright this time as it took another swipe at him. Spike blocked and retaliated with a punch that missed as the creature ducked. It was a better fighter than he'd first given it credit for, kicking him in the gut in the next instant, sending him stumbling backwards.

Spike went on the defensive as the demon unleashed a series of rapid moves, clawing, gabbing and kicking at him. It always managed to leap away before he could pin it down. Losing patience, Spike growled and decided enough was enough. He had to find some way to start attacking or this thing would wear him out and get lucky with those claws.

Spike watched the demon leap away from the kick he aimed its way and dash to the right. Spike spun left with a roundhouse kick that the demon just managed to duck. Expecting it to dodge, Spike quickly hopped up in the air to avoid the sweeping leg of the demon that would have knocked him to the ground. This was it; a risky move, but the only way to get close enough.

In midair, Spike calculated his next move in seconds as he dropped back to earth. He was parallel with the ground, so instead of landing on his feet he was falling face first to the torn up soil. Just as he was about to hit the dirt, he rolled, grabbing hold of the demon by its wrists as it jumped on him, having intended to claw his back when he fell.

It let out a shriek of surprise as Spike rolled with it until he had it pinned under him, its legs kicking out madly and its teeth gnashing at his face. Spike grinned down at it, enjoying its struggles. It'd been a while since he'd hunted anything you could call a challenge. The fight with the vamps earlier had been a near suicidal brawl, but this was a hunt. He'd tracked his prey, fought it, and caught it. He'd almost forgotten the feeling it gave him; the rush of adrenaline and the satisfaction.

"Sorry, mate. You lose. Should have stayed out of the city."

Spike struggled to evade the demon's claws as it scrambled even more desperately to slash at him. Tilting his head, Spike wondered what the best way of killing it would be…he could bite it, but something told him the demon would taste disgusting, plus it brought him too close to those claws and teeth. As it happened, the demon sealed its fate when it managed to suddenly thrust its arm forwards with a final burst of strength.

Feeling the sting of his cheek being torn open, Spike jerked his head back with a hiss and shoved the demon's hand away from him violently. He heard a squelching sound and suddenly the body beneath him lay still. Wincing from the pain in his cheek, Spike lowered his arm to see what he'd done, only to discover the demon's razor sharp claws embedded in its face, two fingers having gouged out its eyes.

Spike let his game face fall away and cautiously released the demon. It didn't move. Satisfied that it was dead, Spike touched the cut on his cheek. His fingers came back bloody. At least he didn't feel any paralyzing effects…yet. He was guessing, based on what he remembered about certain breeds of demons, that the effects only lasted as long as the demon lived. Here's hoping the carcass in front of him was one of those.

A gasp nearby caught his attention. Spike glanced over to see the demon's victim panting heavily on the ground where he still lay, only now he was twitching. Spike stood and walked over, staring down at the man. A few more choked gasps escaped the man's lips as he cringed and writhed in pain. Blood was starting to pool across his stomach, his clothes having been torn open so the demon could feast on his flesh. A large chunk of skin had been peeled away and devoured by the time Spike had stepped in.

A new nagging sense started crying out for Spike's attention. The sun. The sun would rise before he could make it back to his own turf. He'd have to stay here. He scanned the cemetery quickly for a likely hiding place, choosing another rundown looking crypt in a far corner. He had time yet, but there was no use standing around. He was full, he was tired, and he needed time to heal and rest before heading back to familiar territory.

He was walking away when something tugged at his trouser leg. Glancing down, Spike saw a pale hand clenched in a death grip around the fabric. Spike's gaze flicked to the pleading face of the injured man, still cringing in agony.

"Please…"

More choking and gagging. Spike tilted his head and watched spittle fly from the man's mouth. His lips were blue and his skin ashen. Another desperate tug.

"Please…help m-me. Please."

The man was now lying half turned on his side, allowing blood to flow more freely from his stomach wound. It wouldn't take long to attract attention from some beastie or another, if it hadn't already. They were a short distance from any well populated spot. The man could bleed out before he'd make it to anyone that could help him.

Spike bent and removed the hand. He gave it a quick pat and the watery brown eyes staring back at him brightened. Spike stood and walked away. Behind him, a strangled cry turned to more gagging. The solid crypt door shut out the noise, leaving blessed silence in its wake. Time to rest again.

***

It was almost peaceful walking back towards Darina's home. Spike walked with light, easy steps, un-haunted by ghosts or guilt. His cuts from the night previous had vanished and he wasn't yet suffering the thirst. He felt energized—restored. He didn't want to lose the feeling by questioning the reason behind it so he hadn't analyzed exactly what it was that had changed or when. All he knew was that something was different. He felt more in control and more himself than he had for a long time.

He was even looking forward to leaving. There were no belongings waiting for him in the crypt he'd hidden in; no reason to return there, so as soon as he'd seen what he wanted to, he would leave Prague altogether for somewhere less—stifling. Somewhere that didn't harbor such bad memories of restless nights.

If he was smart, he would leave now anyway, forget about going to visit Darina, but he wanted to see her for some reason. He supposed he had her to thank for his current high spirits. If not for her, he would never have gone out hunting last night, never mind why he'd done it or why he felt responsible for what happened to her. It was her own damn fault for wandering about by herself.

As he drew closer to the house, his pace slowed. He still had to be careful not to be seen. As usual, he paused in the shadows across the street, looking over at the house, his eyes instantly finding the window of the girl's room. He frowned. Something wasn't right.

He could barely see the dim light that usually flickered from behind the drawn curtains. There was lots of movement both downstairs and upstairs, shadows moving back and forth from window to window. As Spike approached, heading for the small garden and the tree that would allow him a better view of the room, a sound began to emerge from the house; a low mournful tone.

No.

Spike hopped over the wall and quickly climbed the tree, careful not to make a sound as he moved along the branch towards the window, only to find the curtains there drawn also, more shadows moving beyond them. Even if he couldn't see in, he might hear something with people so close to the window.

The keening from inside grew louder and Spike could make out sobbing noises as well as a low murmuring. He stared at the covered glass, unable to see the figure that had been lying in the bed whose breathing had been the only sign of life the last time he was here—unable to deny what the activity in the house had confirmed for him.

Spike slid backwards against the trunk of the tree, resting his back against it and rubbing a hand down his face. The feeling was gone now. There was no more exhilaration or satisfaction to keep him going…now there was only tiredness. He had to wonder—what was the point of it all? Or had there ever been a point?

Spike stayed sitting in the tree for almost an hour, staring at the window, listening to the faint murmurs and mournful sounds within. He was numb. He sat there, staring ahead, not thinking, not moving, just letting the time pass. Death. It's what his life was now. Nothing but death, and yet he'd go on—a moving corpse; immortal.

When a door opened and someone stepped into the garden below him, Spike decided it was time to move. He waited patiently for the shadowy figure to go back in the house before leaving. Despite his earlier intentions, once he'd fed, less out of hunger and more out of necessity, in no mood to be visited by spirits tonight, Spike returned to the crypt, shut the door behind him and lay down to wait for sleep to claim him.

***

He'd heard them outside, singing, mourning, tramping through the grounds. He'd woken earlier than normal and spent the day listening to everything outside the crypt. When evening fell, Spike paced up and down the short space of the crypt, wondering if it would still be too early to attempt to go outside. Unable to stand the enclosed space any longer, Spike took a deep breath to calm himself and opened the crypt door as quietly as he was able.

A few people remained, Spike could sense them immediately. They were out of sight of his hideaway however, and hadn't heard him emerge. Spike crept closer, staying to the shadows where possible. He spotted them then, a few feet away, their backs to him as they observed the dark mound of soil before them. Spike stiffened and moved back a step or two, his back meeting the rough bark of a tree. Feeling the solid object behind him, he leant against it and waited.

Muffled voices drifted over to him, but he could only hear every other word and soon stopped paying attention. Eventually they left, casting lingering glances back at the grave as they walked. Spike watched them go, staying where he was long after the rusty gate clanged shut behind them, adjusting to the silence and the dark.

He breathed in the scent of freshly disturbed earth and approached the mound of soil, a tiny hill amongst the grass and stones of the cemetery. His eyes turned towards the headstone bearing her mother's name. Together again. He stuffed his hands inside his coat pockets and nudged a loose clod of earth with his foot. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for really.

No tiny hand would emerge from the ground and scramble upwards. She wouldn't rise, a vampire, the way he had. Instead she'd stay there—buried. She'd lie beneath the cold earth and rot, the way corpses were meant to. If he hadn't wanted to leave Prague before…he certainly did now.

A sound caught his attention and he looked up. A shadow was moving to his right. Spike cocked his head and studied it. The figure stepped into the light and revealed itself as a vampire, a female. It paused when it noticed Spike. The two stared at each other for a moment. She growled then, loud enough for the sound to carry, a half threat. Clearly he was making her uneasy.

Spike shifted into game face and gave her a low growl in return. She stiffened visibly and took a step back and Spike smiled in satisfaction. She must be young. No use hanging around any longer though. Ignoring the vamp, Spike shook off his demon and stalked out of the cemetery, leaving her to her own devices. Maybe she was looking for a place to stay. If she was, she could have his crypt, not that she'd dare go in there once she sensed his presence around it. It would take a few days for the place to be recognizably vacant.

It was only as he walked through the streets of Prague, no longer attempting to hide or skulk in the shadows, that he began to wonder where he was headed. He wasn't even sure how he'd found his way to Prague in the first place. He supposed he'd end up somewhere the same way he'd gotten here; by aimlessly travelling until he decided to stop again. There was no telling where his so called family was now, not that he'd have sought them out anyway. The chances were slim they'd run into each other but Spike still hoped they were far, far away from wherever he'd find himself.

Alone, he didn't have to worry about anyone—about him letting anyone down or feeling responsible for them. Alone he didn't have to sacrifice anything. All he'd have to do was look out for himself. That much, he might just be able to handle.