“Changing” a Spike POV drabble

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Hello! It’s my day (already!!)

Right, so the first offering I have is a short fic. Hopefully will have more to offer a bit later on but things have been really busy around here of late.

Hope you like.

Title: Changing
Medium:Fic (drabble 521 words)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own BTVS or it’s characters.
Summary: Spike is immortal but someone is changing him. 

The problem with being immortal is that everything and everyone around you dies. You’re left with only infallible things for company because you too are infallible. Civilisations fall, buildings are built and destroyed, the very landscape of the world changes. You remain the same.

It’s a surprisingly lonely way to live.

He could go on about it forever, but frankly, it bores him.

Being immortal is bloody brilliant. After all, how many other people can say they’ve seen centuries pass and never aged a day? Spike considers himself an extremely lucky git. He moves through life – through lives – untouched but experiencing everything.

Everything but her.

In his lifetime he has loved certain people more passionately than perhaps he should have. He’s loved more than he has been loved. No one has returned his feelings with the same fierce loyalty he gives. Least of all her.

If there was ever the wrong person to pick, it would be her. She is unattainable, out of reach, completely wrong for him. And he is completely wrong for her and he knows it – god, he knows it – but there’s no logic to matters like these.

She is kind to him now. And it is a genuine kindness, not a pitying one. There was a time when such a thing would have been unthinkable. She likes him, he is certain. Not in the way he wants her to but that’s out of his control. It’s strange, he often thinks, that he is this world wise immortal traveller; that he has seen and experienced things she couldn’t begin to believe and yet she is very much the one he looks to.

He respects her more than anyone he has ever met and yet she is just a girl. She is pretty but not stunning, smart but not clever, and temperamental at best. She is not perfect. She is a person. He is a monster.

They talk like friends.

They walk together, sometimes, through leaf strewn cemeteries and dark alleys. Conversation is light or non-existent and they barely look at one another. It is not uncomfortable; it is not strained and awkward. It is the opposite. It is companionship in its truest form. He’s never really had a friend. Nobody has ever liked him. People have desired him, people have hated him, people have feared him. Nobody ever liked him.

Sometimes he jokes with her. Sometimes she even laughs. He enjoys it more than he thought he would. Being normal. It was a concept he shuddered at until recently. How mundane, he had thought pretentiously. If it didn’t involved sex, death, or violence it didn’t interest him. Now he jokes.

She talks to him about her sister, her friends, her enemies. She talks quickly and quietly. He listens. He didn’t used to listen to anyone very much. He listens to her.

She smiles at him. He smiles back. Not flirting smiles, not lascivious ones, not cynical smiles. Just smiles. Monsters aren’t supposed to smile. Spike does.

He is immortal, unmovable, untouchable, and unchangeable.

She has moved him, touched him and changed him.

She is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.


Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/280297.html