Sometimes, I used to pretend that if I closed my eyes tight, and wished really hard, this would all turn out to be a dream.

I used to make believe that when I opened my eyes, he would be standing at my door, as if her belonged there.

I used to pretend that is I tried hard enough, it would turn out to be a dream, and he would be in love with me, and not my sister. It's not my fault that I don't have golden blonde hair, and looks that turn the heads of all the guys I know.

Not that it matters. He wouldn't have loved me anyway. Because all the boys loved her.

Even when she was in grade three, they used to fight over who got to kiss her on the playground that day.

Not that I want him now.

He's not Spike anymore. He is William the bloody, because the way he acts makes me feel so sick that the only way I can put up with him is hanging out in the washroom, cutting myself and watch my blood go all over the white tiles after the potentials have gone to sleep and Buffy and Faith have gone out Slaying.

Because he isn't Spike anymore. He is a sniveling, helpless, useless, brooding, anti-vamp vampire that is worse then Angel was.

And he isn't the man I loved.