Buffy wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Listening to Spike’s story was heart-wrenching for her. She had never even suspected he had endured such a terrible childhood. Or that he had lost his cousin and his girlfriend to Angel and his drugs.
It certainly put her own self-pity party into perspective.
“So you didn’t go back after that?” Buffy inquired.
Spike, who had tears of his own making tracks down his face, raised his head. There was shame written all over it and Buffy regarded him sympathetically. She wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss those salty tears away, but she had a feeling that he needed to tell her the rest. It was easy to see just how much of a burden his past was to him.
“I did go back, love. I had nowhere else to bloody go. I didn’t know another buggering soul in the city. I thought about going back to England. My cousin, Wesley, he would have taken me in I suppose. But I didn’t want to go back and admit I was a fucking failure. Everything seemed arse about face and there was nothing I could do to make it right.”
“So what did you do, Spike?”
“I stayed away for a few weeks, living rough mostly, but I was so worried about them and then when I got back to apartment…he was still there. He’d basically moved himself in by then. It had only been a few weeks, but the damage had already been done. The girls…they’d been using every day since I left and they were good and proper hooked.”
“Did you try to…help them?”
“Hah! Yeah, but you can’t help someone unless they want to be helped. I saw that with my Da. The worst thing was…they started to change. Darla became cold, like an ice queen. She was always so warm and giving, but between her fixation on that great nancy-boy and her cravings for the coke and all the other bloody rubbish he was pumping them with, she hardened. And Drusilla…it struck her the worst. Drink had always made her a bit loopy but…with the drugs she turned downright barmy. Angel enjoyed that part the most, I think. He loved watching them crumble because of him. And he loved watching me stand by, not able to do anything. It went on for months. The same old, same old. During those months I really thought I’d learned the true meaning of hell.”
“God, Spike! I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. I thought…maybe it would be okay though. I thought…I thought I could save them. What I didn’t realize was just how much of a weak-willed ponce I was myself.”
Los Angeles 9 years earlier
“Ohh! Angel! Mmm! Don’t stop.”
Spike felt the bile rise in his throat as he entered the door of the apartment only to be greeted with Darla’s husky screams. It seemed this had become a regular occurrence now every time he returned home.
For the past several months this had become normal.
He didn’t really even know what normal meant anymore.
He briefly wondered where Drusilla was but assumed she was passed out on the terrace or that she had gone wandering the streets. These days she was so unpredictable. He wished he could muster the strength to care. A year ago he would have searched for her, but now he was pleased to have a little hiatus from her drugged ranting.
Not that he spent much time here now. Recently he had tried to spend as little time as possible in the cramped space, but eventually he always came back.
Lying down on the couch, exhausted from life, he covered his ears with his hands. He didn’t want to hear this. He regarded the coffee table in disgust, still covered with smudged lines of cocaine and other paraphernalia. At least there was some beer, he noted thankfully, and opened one of the bottles. It was slightly warm but it would do for now.
Spike knew that he was drinking too much recently. He spent half of his time in bars in order to stay away from the torments of this place. But he didn’t care. It was better than descending into the drug-addicted state in which Darla and Dru now lived. If he could just think straight he was convinced that he could come up with a plan to get them away from Angel anyway. They could get clean and go back to their old life. They would again be the sweet girls he once knew.
The sounds reached their crescendo before they finally died down. And Spike was glad for the temporary reprieve. But it wasn’t long before he heard renewed moans.
“Ohh Daddy! Do me harder!”
Spike froze at that scream. That wasn’t Darla’s voice.
It was Drusilla.
“Bollocks!”
Afterward he barely remembered how he got from the couch to the bedroom. Flinging open the door, he was horrified by the scene in front of him.
Angel was pounding into Drusilla from behind, while Darla lay underneath her best friend and suckled on her milky white breasts.
As they became aware of the figure standing in the doorway, three heads turned in his direction, but they didn’t stop, and in fact, Dru moaned even louder, arching her back to allow Angel deeper into her body.
“What the bloody hell is all this?” Spike cried, aware that tears of fury and anguish were leaking from his eyes. “How long has this been going on, you bunch of bastards?”
Angel’s malevolent laugh cut through the moans filling the room from the two women, and Spike tore his eyes from the scene. It was one of those things that was hard to stop rubbernecking even when you were disgusted by what you saw.
“Not joining us then, Spike?” Angel mocked callously, still sheathed inside Drusilla.
“You take your hands off her!” Spike threatened but Angel ignored him and pumped his hips harder.
Winding a meaty hand around Drusilla’s pale throat, Angel cocked an eyebrow in challenge, tightening it just a touch. While Darla and Dru might not have seen just how dangerous this man was, it was clear to Spike, and that small gesture alone proved it. Spike knew that if he tried to attack Angel, the other man would snap his dark princess’s throat without even batting an eyelid.
“How can you do this to me?” Spike asked his girlfriend pleadingly, ignoring the man who was currently still fucking her.
“Oh Spike! My dark knight! Don’t you see this is what is written in the stars?” She hushed her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They tell me that Daddy knows what’s best for me. And he does, don’t you Daddy?”
“That I do Princess.” Angel agreed renewing his thrusts with vigor.
“Dru, love, he’s not good for you!” Spike tried again.
“That’s her decision to make.” Darla told him sternly, staring at him soullessly. He could see no traces of the kind girl he once knew within her face.
Her former self had been washed away.
“Yeah, Willy. It’s her decision. So unless you want to make good use of that pretty mouth of yours, I suggest you beat it.” Spike heard Angel’s words, but he had already turned to leave.
In that moment, something shifted within him. All his life he had fought…against his father and the poverty they lived in, against his own inner demons, and now against Angelus. He just couldn’t do it anymore. It was time to give up.
All he needed was something to quell the pain. He wanted to drink himself into a permanent coma so that he would never have to confront the agony that came with life ever again. It was too much, and somehow Spike doubted that even several bottles of whiskey would do anything to dull the hurt within his chest. He looked at the table in front of him, covered in white powder, and just for a moment he wondered how much worse it could be if he gave in. sinking down onto the couch he buried his head in his hands.
“I could make it all better, my William.” He jumped in surprise at Dru’s voice. “I could make all the pain float away like dust in the sunshine.”
“Thought you were in there shagging Captain Forehead.” He replied bitterly, purposely not looking at her nude form as she glided gracefully in his direction.
“Darla took my place. The pixies in my head whispered secrets to me. They told me that you want to be like us, deep down…that you want the pain to go away.”
“Not gonna touch the drugs, Dru.” He said lacking the conviction that he had before. She smiled mysteriously at the wobble in his voice, and crawled onto the couch beside him, nibbling at his ear.
“I…can’t…” He swallowed hard as her hands wandered down over his body.
“Yes, you can, my Spike. Once you try it you can float on the wings of angels and dance on the clouds. You can be free…like me.”
He glanced from Dru to the coffee table and back. Maybe he should just give in. He knew that he could make it all go away.
The old expression of if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em echoed in his head, while he regarded the lines of blow lying out on the table, left over from his companions last session.
Taking a swig of his open beer that he had left on the table, he kneeled down, and garnered his courage.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Picking up the dollar bill, Dru rolled it and sniffed a line of the white powdery substance, a grin spreading on her face as she looked back to him.
“Try it, my Spike. Do it for Princess?”
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Hesitantly taking the dollar bill from her he copied her movements of moments previously, inhaling the coke and feeling it clog at the back of his throat. He wanted to cough and choke for a second but as the drug worked its way into his system, he started to feel better.
Much better.
Suddenly all that trivial stuff no longer mattered. In fact he could hardly even remember what had pained him so much.
In reality it was all an illusion, a pretty painting that glossed over the things that were falling apart.
But for Spike it felt like a cure. He couldn’t remember why he’d stalled so long.
What he didn’t know was that his life was about to get a whole lot worse.
With Dru’s giggling in his ear, and her lips on his neck, he inhaled another line.
One life ended and he was reborn into darkness.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Same warnings apply from the previous chapter. I've just posted that, so if you have no yet read it, please go back and read, as otherwise this one will probably make no sense.
Please enjoy!
Please enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't condone the use of any illegal substances.
Thanks for reading. Please review.
Thanks for reading. Please review.