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A/N: Just wanted to take a second to thank everybody for your reviews. Means a lot to me. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story just as much.



CHAPTER 10: Journal of a convict



"Stop giving him the evil look of death. Spike would never do something like that. He's like a Jedi. He's a pure soul betrayed by society, a hero wasting away in this unholy place because of a cruel twist of fate."


Jonathan glared at his friend who had a dreamy look on his face, "Yeah? Well, Darth Vader was a Jedi too. Didn't stop him from turning to the dark side of the Force, did it."


Andrew huffed, clearly insulted, "Darth Vader was an idiot."


"Darth Vader was cool, you moron!"


"Never as cool as Spike, you brain dead!!"


"At least, Darth never hit Leia, or any woman!" Jonathan yelled back.


"He did too! Or at least, if he didn't, he got someone to do it for him. Spike didn't hit the warden."


Jonathan pinched him.


"Ouch! You freak!" Andrew slapped the shorter boy upside the head.


"Hey! Quit it!!"


The two bickering boys got silent when Spike walked by, on his way out of the cafeteria with his friend Gunn.


"Spike! Wait up!"


Andrew walked quickly to where Spike was standing, pulling Jonathan along with him.


"Oh bollocks," Spike rolled his eyes and kept walking, "Go away."


"Come on, Spike, wait… Is it true?"


"What?" he asked, still walking.


"Is it true you beat up the warden? Everybody says…"


"I bloody well did not!" Angry, the blonde man stormed off, closely followed by Gunn.


Andrew turned to give Jonathan a smug look, "See? Told you so!"


"Fine. Whatever."


Gunn trotted behind his angry friend, "Spike. Come on man, chill. What's the deal with you anyway?"


Spike stopped abruptly and turned to face the taller man, "What's the deal? What's the DEAL? Let me tell you what the bleeding deal is, mate. Every wanker in the place has been giving me the thumbs up since yesterday afternoon. They all think I beat up Bu… Ms. Summers, a woman who's half my size, and they praise me for it. It sickens me. They think I'm the kind of man who would send a woman flying into a wall. Bloody hell, they think I'm the kind of man who would put a bullet into a woman's heart. When did this happen, Gunn? When did my life get turned so upside down and inside out that people would think me capable of such a thing? When did this happen? That's not me. I'm not like that."


"Hey, don’t sweat it buddy. These guys don’t matter. They don’t know you."


Spike looked away, his inner turmoil written plainly on his face, "Nobody knows me. I'm not even sure I know myself anymore. I can't deal with this, Charles. I--I just can't deal." He started walking away.


"Spike! Where are you going?"


He didn't stop, "Library. I'm late for my shift.


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It was getting late, and there were only two guys left in the library. Not your typical bookworms, but they were quietly reading their porn magazines, only exchanging a comment once in a while.


Spike appreciated the peaceful moment. These were a rare luxury at the prison. He needed the time to organize his thoughts. Quality solitary moments were one of the things he missed the most about freedom. Well, that, and spicy chicken wings. The warden had no idea how happy she made him by assigning him to the library. With most of the prisoners having no interest in books whatsoever, it was usually the quietest place in Sunnydale's prison.


It wasn't the most impressive book collection-mostly donations from Sunnydale's libraries-but to Spike who grew up surrounded by books, it was heaven. Ten or so bookshelves, five tables with ratty old chairs that looked like they had been pulled out of a dumpster, and five study rooms, made up what they called the library. The prison was offering classes to keep the convicts busy, and they used these rooms to work on their assignments.


Spike pulled out a small notebook from the back pocket of his pants. It was a gift from Charles’ sister. That girl was an angel. Spike had no one visiting him, no one bringing him anything. He had been going insane without anything to write on, so she had brought him a leather bound journal and a smaller, matching, notepad.


Spike's only family was his father, Ethan, and he had abandoned his son to his fate completely. The man's only worry when he had found out about his son's troubles was about the consequences on his own reputation. He never even showed up in court to show William some support. There was only one phone call, and it was basically to tell him that he wasn't his son anymore.


Spike sat behind the counter and started scribbling away in his pad. Writing had always been his way of keeping his sanity. It had helped him through the worst moments of his life. Angel and Darla had teased him relentlessly about it, but he didn't give a bloody damn if they thought he was a nancy boy. Well, considering the turn of events, maybe he should have given a damn. He probably shouldn't have let them see that he was a hopeless romantic fool. By doing so, he had only given them the perfect victim for their evil machinations, but that didn't matter anymore now, did it.


He tried to find coherent words to describe what happened the day before, but it seemed like an impossible task. He wasn't even sure if he was writing a story that came right out of his fantasist mind, a poem, his thoughts… It was a little bit of everything.


Buffy's beauty, her strength, the sharpness of her mind. How relieved he had been when he found out she hadn't known about him being locked up in isolation. The fear that coursed through his veins the second he realized he had just kissed her. And most of all, the explosion of emotions he had felt when she kissed him back.



She tasted like a perfect summer day. Ripe strawberries, juicy watermelon, refreshing lemonade. I could almost feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, and the coolness of the freshly cut grass underneath my bare feet. In a matter of seconds, she took me away from here and made me travel half way across the world to a place I never knew existed. I felt the incredible urge to pray and beg whichever God is looking over us, to let me stay there forever. But then reality came crashing back on us and left me broken and with the strong desire to weep.



Spike looked up when one of the guys laughed and made a lewd comment. He pointed something out in the magazine he was reading and the other guy laughed too. Then the quiet settled once more and Spike went back to his writing.



How am I supposed not to want this again? It's like offering a sip of fresh water to a man dying of thirst, then taking the glass away from him. I almost regret she walked into my life. I was getting used to my misery before she came along, almost comfortable with it. But it now seems unbearable to me. Is life done playing games with me? Everything I've ever had has been taken away. Isn't that enough? Why taunt me in such a cruel way as to let me meet the perfect woman at the worst possible time of my life? I barely know her, and yet it feels like I do. And the ironic thing is, she seems to be feeling the same way. But what hurts the most is that she probably regrets that brief moment between us with all her heart right now. She's probably afraid that somehow, the word will get out. I can only hope that she knows in her heart that I wouldn't betray her confidence and that this kiss will remain between us.



"Did I ever tell you how I find that writers are useless members of society that only give people more reasons to waste time with their nose in books?"


Spike looked up to see his cell mate standing in front of the counter, a disgusted look twisting his already unappealing features.


"Did I ever tell you how I enjoy scraping midgets' faces against brick walls? I'd be worried if I were you, Snyder, you're pretty damn short."


"You can't get me with threats, Spikey. I've been a high school principal before ending up in jail. I've mastered the art of threats a long time ago."


"And I've mastered the art of putting threats to execution a long time ago. Now be a good troll and bugger off before I get really cross with you and decide to kill you in your sleep."


"Stupid, idiotic, bleached, psycho freak," Snyder mumbled while walking away. "You're a threat to society, Spike, and a waste of perfectly good living space. That's all I have to say about it."


"Yeah, yeah, love you too. Troll."


Spike shook his head, annoyed at the interruption,


**Where was I? Oh, yeah…**



…but despite everything, despite how wrong it is and how much it could potentially hurt both of us--God, I can't help but hope that I'll see her again.


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Chapter 11: Sightseeing tour


A/N: Aren't these little A/N annoying? lol But it's like commercials on TV: you can't escape them. Come on, you know what I want.... Do I really need to ask? Reviews!





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