How Do I Explain?

by Saber ShadowKitten
My Childe 12






It's been four days since Spike took a shower, and he still hasn't gotten out of my bed. He just lays there, curled in a ball, the covers pulled up all around him. I cursed myself again and again every minute that passed by and he's still in there, hurting, scared.

God, I hate this.

I haven't left in four days, either. The furthest away I've gone was halfway up the stairwell beside the elevator in order to speak quietly with Doyle. I was not going to leave unless the half-demon had a vision or the building was on fire. Not until my scared boy was out of that bed.

Doyle doesn't understand. Neither does Cordelia. They don't get why I won't leave him alone. They don't understand why I even care. How do I explain to them the intricacies of vampirism? How do I explain the blood that links my Childe and me together? How do I explain to them that it's more than history or guilt or Buffy's pleading eyes that makes me care for Spike?

I love my Childe. In a strange, convoluted, twisted sort of way, he was the son that I never had and never would create from my seed. I brought him into the world of never-ending night with my blood. I taught him how to hunt, how to play, how to survive. I laughed at his jokes, I felt pride at his actions, I punished him when he did wrong. I watched as he grew from a naive, young fledgling to a powerful, Master vampire.

And now I watch as he hurts, and it hurts me in return, both my soul and my demon. My soul aches and wants to cry and hold him. My demon rages and wants to kill and yet also hold him. Both parts of me want to hold him as a father would hold his child. Because that's what he is to me, to all of me.

I love him.

Unconditionally.

He's my beautiful boy.

What more is there to explain?



End