Disclaimer:  I own nothing.  Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, etc.

Spoilers:  Set one year after Grave.  None of Season Seven has occurred.

Summary:  Spike does not come back insane, though he does have his soul.  Buffy is still as cold-hearted as ever.  No shiny happy people in this fic.

I Never Wanted But Your Heart

By

Anessa Ramsey

         It's funny how things work out sometimes.  All I ever wanted was one thing from you and it was always out of my reach.  You made sure of it.  I've spent the past year believing you to be right.  I am nothing but the broken pieces of a vampire…of a man.  I am exhausted and shattered.  I tried to feed, tried to hunt, but it was gone.  All of my natural instincts were gone.  Just like the chip.

         Gone.  That's the word to describe you.  Your heart is cold as ice, your eyes and mind too.  If they weren't I wouldn't be here.  I can only look at you because I know that there is nothing left inside.  You're as empty as I am.  Knowing that you can't love me is easier for me to deal with than the fact that you won't.  The chip may be gone but least I know that I'm not the evil soulless creature you once accused me of being.  You don't know that though.  I've kept it to myself.  Maybe it's just some of the demon coming through but I want to tell you the moment I know that it will hurt the most.  I want to say it the moment you let feeling back into your life.  Then I'll go.  I won't wait for a response or for you to justify what you did to me.  I won't listen to half-hearted attempts to still peg me as nothing but a demon.  I'll be gone before you can say a word, before you can regret my absence.  You didn't before because of what I did.  You will this time though, I guarantee it.  Because then it won't be about my mistakes, it will be about yours. 

         William wasn't a vindictive person, revenge was a foreign concept, even against that bitch Cecily…or Halfrek…whatever she's calling herself now.  The difference is, I'm not William.  I may not be Spike, but I sure as hell am not the bloody poet that used to inhabit this body.  I don't know who I am.  Guess that means I need a new name.  Bloody hell, I didn't want to become Angelus, yet here I am following in the ponce's footsteps.  'Cept I chose to be different.  Sure, things didn't go as planned but when do any of my plans go right.  Guess the green-eyed bloke knew what I really wanted.  Sod giving you what you deserve.  What you deserve is to have a stake rammed through that frozen heart in your chest.  What you deserve is to know what it's like to be beaten down til there's nothing left by the person that you love most in the world.  What you deserve is to have your hope built over and over only to be shattered time and again by the person that matters most to you like you mattered the most to me.  Angelus just tormented you.  He never came close to breaking you.  That's what I want you to experience.  Unfortunately I don't have the time to do all of that.  So I'll make it a quick, shattering break.

         You think you've experienced love…you have no idea.  You and Peaches were an illusion.  You were sixteen and willing to cling to anything that would make life worth living.  Anything to make you forget that it's your destiny to die.  One dies and the next is chosen.  You don't know what it's like to devote yourself completely to one person for a century only to have them leave you for someone else.  What is it about Angelus that makes him so irresistible?  The only two women I have ever loved have always loved him more.  I don't care anymore.  I'm through with every last one of you.  No more Angelus.  No more Drusilla.  And most of all, no more Buffy.  I was insane to think that being with a slayer could work.  You were right about that.  I see it now.  I've finally purged myself of this love that has been devouring me from the inside.  Now I wait.  I help you slay and I play nice to the kiddies, but I am just waiting.  I'm waiting for that moment that I tell you.  I'm waiting to break you like you broke me.  When I do it will be over.  Maybe then I can finally rest.

I never wanted but your heart --- that gone, you have nothing more to give.

         --- Mary Wollstoncraft (1759-1797)

             "Letter to Gilbert Imlay, her lover"

             Letter LXX, London; November 1795