Just 500 some odd words based on last night's episode, "You're Welcome." Spoilers for the episode, of course.. and just some speculation on the future.
Once Destiny Passes
As his fingers mindlessly slid over the controls on the gamepad, pushed buttons and maneuvered the joystick when necessary, Spike came to the conclusion that he was impressively drunk. He knew he was telling those sodding monkeys to bean the plumber with the barrels… but it wasn’t happening. However, unlike earlier in the afternoon, when he almost ripped the telly to pieces trying to shake the digital creatures into submission, he rose from the couch and turned the thing off.
He’d had enough playing games. Point of fact, he’d had enough of being played as well. How long had it been going on? How long had he been fooled, used, played with, and abused? Seemed like his entire life and unlife had been one bloody barrel of usage.
Usage, Spike snorted as he stalked into his tiny kitchen. Buffy had left her mark on him in more ways than one and spouting Scooby-speak was a sure sign that he was not only drunk, but exhausted as well. Leaning heavily on the counter and watching his blood turn slowly in the microwave, his eyelids drooped. Sleep sounded like a really good idea.
Hunger sated, Spike curled up on his tiny bed, pulled the blanket up to his ears and tried to let it all go. So he could sleep. So he wouldn’t have to think about the day’s events. His failures. It didn’t work. Not for a moment.
He’d told Angel’s gang that he’d been embarrassed, thinking he had some sort of destiny; admitting to being played by that prat, Doyle. No - Lindsey. Being called stupid by Angel in front of them all hadn’t helped, but there was no real animosity behind the words, for a change. For the first time, when all was said and done, he hadn’t been dismissed and told to slink away into the dark. They’d all gone for drinks. Odd that Angel and the cheerleader hadn’t shown up but, he supposed, they were chatting about old times. He could certainly understand that… the need to spend time with someone you… well, too late, too tired. That road wouldn’t lead to anything good at the moment.
Wondering what was going to come next, Spike mentally juggled a few ideas. He could always go back to Wolfram & Hart. Be another of Angel’s do-gooding minions. He could go out on patrol like he used to do in Sunnyhell. He could stay in his basement, and hide away from it all.
He decided that he wanted to do something. Needed to do something; the right thing. He’d been helpful sidekick vamp for a long time now. And no matter what he said to Angel in the heat of the moment, it wasn’t a bad thing to be.
Spike sat up in bed, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck and back, flexed his fingers and toes. Felt sorted for the first time in forever. He knew what he had to do. He needed to let go of that “destiny” bollocks and go back to his old way of operating. Just do the best he could, and let the chips fall where they may. Good times.
The small alarm clock on the night stand ticked away the seconds he had no need to count and, when Spike finally fell asleep, a contented smile curved his lips.
Hope you like.