My Childe

by Saber ShadowKitten
My Childe 1




I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. But I had read and reread the email message that I got an hour ago from Willow again and again, hoping that the words in black and white would change.

Spike was dust.

I know I shouldn't care. He was just another demon born from a man that I had killed. A vampire who literally sucked the life out of the innocent. He had been here the month before torturing me for chrissakes!

It feels as though someone was crushing my heart with a vice.

Damn it! I don't care! It's only Spike, an evil, sadistic, sociopathic vampire who had tried to kill everyone I've ever loved, be it a friend or Buffy herself.

So then why do I want to go to Sunnydale and kill Buffy for staking Spike?

I hate this. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT! Spike is gone, dust, ash, no more. The demon that had inhabited his body was in hell. The soul that inhabited his body when he was still human had long since gone to heaven. The vampire can no longer kill or hurt or destroy or laugh or cry or love.

The phone rings, but I ignore it.

I'm crying again. Cold tears produced from a cold body. I forcefully wipe them away, but they keep coming. It's only Spike. I shouldn't cry for him. About him. I grab the nearest object and hurl it against the wall, but the shattering glass does nothing for me.

Oh god, he's really gone.

My knees shake and then give out, and I drop down to the floor, my arms wrapped around my stomach. I lean forward and touch my forehead to the hard wood, taking great gasping breaths that my body doesn't realize I don't need. I grit my teeth together, trying to stop.

It was just Spike. Only Spike. Just him. Only him. My tormentor. My guilt. My hatred. My student. My obsession. My friend. My lover. My favorite. My William. My Will. My beautiful boy. My Childe.

No. No, no, no, no, no. Not my Will. Not my beautiful one. Not my stubborn, cocky, headstrong, violent, strong, obnoxious, beautiful, caring, loving Childe. Not him. Please god, no. Please no, please no, please no, please no, please no, please no...

"Angel?"

My head shot up at the voice and I stare at the vampire standing in front of me. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my eyes of the blurry tears. "S-Spike?" I get out between the sobs that I have yet to control.

"It's not the Tooth Fairy," Spike replied sarcastically, a frown marring his brow on a somewhat paler than normal face. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? The Slayer said I could hide out here for a little bit, but if you're gonna be actin' like a soddin' crybaby all the time, I'll find somewhere else to hole up til that crap in Sunnyhell blows over."

I rose unsteadily to my feet, my eyes not leaving his gaunt features. He has to be a ghost. Willow said he was dust. Willow said that Buffy had staked him. I reach my hand forward to touch him and see him flinch away. "Spike?" I ask again, the tears having stopped for the moment.

"Um, yeah," he said, the frown deepening. He has a wary look in his slightly dull blue eyes. "Buffy did call you, right? She told you about the plan? About what..." He paused, swallowed and looked away. "About what happened?"

"Oh god, my Will." My heart now felt like it was going to burst and I grabbed him up in a tight embrace. He stiffened but I refused to let go. He was real. He was here. He wasn't gone.

The tears came again as I held my boy in my arms. I no longer cared that I shouldn't be crying over him. I kissed the side of his head, closed my eyes and just held him.

When I felt his arms creep around my sides and his shoulders shaking, indicating that he was crying as well, I knew something had happened that I had no knowledge of. I could feel his bones through the thin tee-shirt he wore, and it caused my demon to abruptly get angry. Someone or something had hurt my Childe.

And as soon as I am sure he is alright, blood was going to paint the streets.

I don't care that I shouldn't care anymore.

My beautiful boy was not dust.

He was still just Spike.

My William.

My Will.

My Childe.



End