Title: Sister of Pain

Author: Orilon

Email: phantomfire@fastmail.fm

Rating: R for language

Improv # 41 steel, false, letter, shiver

Pairing: Spike/Anya mentioned

Spoilers: Major ones for Entropy

Distribution: If you want it, take it and let me know where.

Disclaimer: Every thing from Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Title belongs to Vince Neil from his Exposed CD.

Summary: Possible Spike thoughts after the events in Entropy.

Feedback: Please.

Spike growled as he slammed the door to his crypt closed. His entire night was shot to hell from the Slayer's false accusation of him planting video cameras at her house to being beat up by a pissed off Xander.

His words were nothing new. "Evil, soulless thing" was a common adjective for him used by slutty and her friends, and why should the whelp change his tune now? Words didn't hurt him any more, courtesy of his toughing up by Angelus, but steel axe blades were something entirely different. What he said earlier to Anya was true, he would take Xander on if he could hurt humans, but he didn't need the blinding pain from the chip. He was used to taking beatings, and this one didn't hurt as much as his sire's.

Anya. Mixed feelings came along with thoughts of her name: understanding of where she was coming from, lust, and slight resentment for using him, but he knew that when he started kissing her.

At least she was straight with him unlike the damn slayer. That's why he appreciated truthfulness, you aren't lead on a fucking leash like a whipped puppy. You know where you stand and can make your own decisions.

A shiver of disgust ran through him. Sometimes you can't make your own decisions i.e. the chip. His whole existence was changed without his control and things went even more downhill helping the Slayer.

Situations out of his control reminded him uncomfortably about his fledgling years and the abuse he suffered at the hands of Angelus. The letters of his sire's name were scarred in the small of his back, but only visible to those who knew where to look.

Clamping down on those trains of thought he stretched out on one of the stone caskets hoping that the dreams of the Slayer wouldn't come again.