Title: Lullaby for a Stormy Night

Summary: Spawn was accustomed to long nights alone, savored them. He felt the angst drench over him like blood; only to be brought out into the light by something he didn't expect: two little kids.

Author's Note: I thought I would do something for the sake of Spawn. He voice is very sexy in the animation…hehe…yes…I'm a freak. Don't make fun of me. Anyways, enjoy! This is also based off the song, mind you, so if you know of it, then…yes. Lol

Disclaimer: I'm not even the same sex as Todd, so please. Spawn isn't mine.


Al Simmons lay against the trash and stink he called his home, sighing as he placed his exhausted, four-hundred pound body into the soft cushion of garbage. It was cold this night, a drizzling rain that he could tell would only grow stronger as the hours past. Not like it mattered, but he wished for once that there would be a sunny day to cheer his torn apart soul. If there was anything left of it, naturally, but a sunny day couldn't do anyone harm. He liked them, after all, light and beauty always reminded him of what he wanted most: Wanda. Her smile was his sunshine; her laugh was like blue skies.

But you're never going to have her, are you?

The question shook his being as he almost fell asleep to something good, but then was wrenched from sweet dreams and thrown back into the dark pit of reality. Choruses of evil laughter surrounded him as pictures filtered through his mind: Wanda screaming. Wanda begging his name. Wanda being tortured. He was dragged from her warm arms by chains and fire as he was forced to watch her do things that he couldn't ever imagine before. And they weren't good things, either. A scream ripped through is throat as he dug his claws into an offending object and chucked it across the alleyway.

"Nnngh, stop it! Leave me alone!" he cried, clutching his head as if it would make the suffering stop. But it did nothing. Nothing at all.

You know she enjoys every minute without you.

"I came back for you…!" he moaned, sinking against the wall again, sliding down to the ground. "I promised you…everything…!"

That thorn in your side is from the tree you planted, you know.

Groaning softly, Spawn bent over and let his head touch the cold concrete. How could have this happened? Where did he go wrong? Was it the first time he put a bullet in someone's head? The first time he swiped that knife across their thin, exposed necks? Even when he had heard the crack of bone and found himself enjoying the feeling of their necks snapping? They were like toothpicks to his strength, but he didn't mind. They were nothing to him, anyways, and never would. Just objects in the way of his goal. Until, that is, Wanda had spoken of them like they were people as good as she and him and then he found himself beginning to hesitate every time he wanted to kill something.

No doubt apart of the reason why Wyne dropped him in the first place; hesitance in his industry could mean a serious business mistake and could cost him money, clients, and time. But that's all it ever was. Just business.

No lives.

No caring.

No love.

Just business.

Did it ever matter?

No, not for a long time.

But it was your fault that you ended up in the dirt.

He wanted to believe there was more to life than just…'business'. And Wanda offered that to him.

And now look at her. So in love with Terry, your best friend.

But she's happy.

Without you.

But she was…happy.

The wind slapped at Spawn's face, and he covered it as a reaction. It was so cold…just like his heart. Why didn't he realize it sooner? Why didn't he see that while he traded good business for lives, he was trading his own soul for darkness? Had he been so blinded by the money and the benefits, that he couldn't even see his own downfall? But he didn't even really think about that. Not then. All he saw was the good business.

A tug.

"Go away."

Another tug.

"Do I have to decapitate you to get some sleep?"

Another tug.

"Dammit! Leave me—"

Spawn stopped short as his head jerked from its hiding spot behind his shroud. What he expected was to see yet another old bum disturb him in the night, begging for something else miraculous and angelic to be done. Spawn didn't need to remind himself how sick of this place and of everything he was, but this surprise that came before his eyes was something that caught him off guard. And, as strange as it was, it was in the shape of two three-and-a-half-foot figures that stared at him in the night. A boy and a girl…children. Little, little children. Like Cyan kind of children. They continued to gaze down upon him, eyes big and frightened and they looked cold.

"Mister," one of them said, the little girl, "Can we sleep with you tonight?"

If Spawn hadn't been so baffled at them coming at him anyways, with all his moaning and torture, he would've shooed them off already. Of course, he shook his head at the initial shock that they should even approach him and said, grouchy, "Where are you parents?"

"We don't have any," the boy stated simply, his hand still clutching his shroud. Oddly enough, the cloak itself seemed to be passive at the children's presence. That was a good thing, Spawn supposed.

"You're orphans? Both of you?" he asked, straightening himself as he was momentarily distracted from his agonizing life. Or death.

"Yeah…we're cold, though…" the girl continued, scooting up to him closer, "Can we sleep with you tonight?"

"You don't want to be near me," Spawn replied, meaning every word.

The two gazed at each other, and though they claimed they were orphans, they didn't look much the part. The boy had a long, black coat with leather shoes and the girl accompanied him with a red coat trimmed in white. They were in mittens and hats, but they appeared more than exhausted and were no doubt just as cold. They then glanced back at Spawn, their eyes, brown and green, pleaded to him. It was difficult for Spawn to resist Cyan looking like that, much having it twice over. Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, he finally gave up. Opening his arms, the children looked delighted as they settled in his snuggly in his lap.

The shroud then wrapped around all three of them tightly, protecting them against the rain and the wind like a blanket.

"What's your name?" the boy asked.

"Uh…Spawn," he replied, not finding it amusing that they should call him 'Al' instead. "What are yours?"

"Carrie," the girl replied, gripping his chest.

"Landen," the other added.

"Those are nice names," the Hellspawn replied dumbly.

"Thanks," they replied in unison.

"This is a weird costume," Landen suddenly mentioned, playing with the chain that dipped across Spawn's chest.

"It was a…gift," Al lied, unable to help himself. What was he supposed to say? The devil named Malbolgia gave it to him to signify that he not only lost his soul, but his life, happiness and freedom as well? Yeah right. "From a…friend…of mine." He nearly had choke out the words.

"I like the colors," Carrie said, grinning up at him.

"Thanks," Spawn said with a shrug. "It has its ups and downs."

Two blank look accompanied his statement, obviously indicating he should elaborate. "Well," he began, "It kinda has its own personality that goes along with it."

"Cool!" the boy exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his lips.

"Person…ality?" Carrie pronounced, clearly not getting it like the other did.

Al tapped his lip in thought as he tried to communicate without getting riled up or having them arrive at the conclusion that he was some nasty creature from hell, even though he really was. "It's like a buddy almost," Spawn replied, finally, "It always stays with me, and talks to me and protects me and stuff like that." And put him through torture and hell every night.

"Like us," Landen said as he reached out for his friend.

The girl nodded quickly, her smile evidence that she was pleased with the idea. "Just like us."

"Why are you running away?" Spawn asked after a moment.

The two glanced up at him curiously, looking as if he had no idea what he was talking about. Of course, the boy suddenly lifted his eyebrows and glanced down again, clutching the girl's hand. "We're not…running away," he said softly, "We just don't want to be apart."

Spawn felt his heart go out for the two. It was a bit surprising that the boy understood such a concept and offered that as his response, but nevertheless, it struck the elder on a cord he knew all too well. It often took much to remember such wonderful memories of Wanda and him, during the days when they were so in love, so sure that they were meant for one another, but now it came easily to him. The time of flowers and soft whispers into her ear, promising her eternal happiness and beauty and love. The times he thought would never end. Even after all the problems they had to go through, they always ended up stronger and wiser at the end, and always more in love.

Glancing back down at the children, Spawn noticed them to be asleep, but still holding one another's hand in their dreams. Was this what it was like to stare God in the face? To see His power, revealing through the darkest and most stormy clouds; that even when one felt like things couldn't get worse, there was that little reminder of why he had chosen the shroud in the first place. Perhaps it wasn't so bad, after all, that he chose this path. He got to see Wanda again, and she indeed had been happy. And so was his best friend, and their living, beautiful child. What more happiness, beauty and love could Al offer her? That was what he had promised her after all, wasn't it?

"Yes," he said gently, holding the two children as the storm pounded around the shell of the shroud, "I did. And I'm not least one bit regretful for it."

"Mmmn, g'night," the boy murmured.

"Goodnight," Al replied, running his claws through the tangles of black hair. "And sleep well. There's no monster coming."


A/N: Read and review! Cheesy end, I know, but with this series being so dark and all, there needs to be some of those moments. OH my goodness. Gots another idea! (snickers as she runs away)