Special thanks to Alicia for the beta!!

Also shout outs to all who feedbacked:
Dar, Christina, Adrian, mendenbar, jewel, Mary, alex,

And thanks to these people for their interest in my continuing the fic: Elizabeth, xanfan23, Kuzibah, angela, sparham, Jinx, Jet

                Everyone lies to themselves; it's in our nature. You lie to yourself and promise to count those calories, or start that diet tomorrow. You pretend to be a good person and smile on the outside when you really hate the person to whom you are speaking; and you eat your peas at dinner, while cursing your parents for the rule. Everyone pretends; everyone lies to mask the pain and heartache of existence.

                But what if that existence - that at least has a promised conclusion - was suddenly endless? What if that existence was suddenly forever? What if what had once been promised as limited, was suddenly infinite? How would *you* spend your time? How would *you* wish to carry on? What would *you* do to spend it with your heart's desire?

                Answer? Anything.

~*~*~*~*~

                Spike is gone.

                It's been three weeks since that night with Todd. Three weeks and I haven't heard a peep from him - not a call, or letter, or postcard - nothing. Willow has done locator spells that have turned up nothing. He's gone. I don't think he's dead. I don't think, with the bond that we share, that I wouldn't feel his absence completely if he'd gotten killed, or had killed himself. But he's gone.

                I hope that perhaps he looked up old friends - James and Elizabeth perhaps. He could start another phase of his life with them - at least he'd have companionship. At least he wouldn't have to live the rest of his existence in loneliness and agony. I spent a century doing just that, and it sucked beyond all reason. There were nights when the memories of what I'd done didn't hurt me as much as the pain of being alone - *so* alone - that I couldn't think about anything else, other than someone's touch. On those nights, I'd ride the subway, or take a bus, or go in a bar, hopeful that someone would brush against me so I could have some contact.

                So for his sake, I hope he finds someone; maybe he'll turn some pretty young girl to have a- not a mate. I hope not a mate. At the very least, I hope that wherever he is, he knows I still love him, even if we can't be together, even if I took everything that was good and ruined it completely (first by letting him stay human and second, by turning him). I handled everything so wrong and destroyed every possible chance I ever had at being happy.

                I think of that night so often. The night he left, after he killed Todd and I tried to save him. I tried to save him so badly, tried *not* to let Spike be a killer; I rushed him to a hospital as fast I could but it was too late. He was too badly beaten and had lost too much blood to be saved. I am solely responsible for his death; it weighs on my conscience every day. I hadn't realized the way I bit him was the way a vampire claims a human before making a childe. I hadn't even thought Spike would interpret it that way. I hadn't meant for him to feel threatened in any way but that's how he took it and he killed Todd because of my actions.

I was unable to tell Cordy and Wes the truth of who killed the man. I told them I'd been walking and found a vampire with him and dusted him. I did *not* tell them Spike was responsible for his death. It didn't matter once I got back to the hotel and found his most prized CDs gone. I knew he'd left - done what needed to be done - made a clean break.

                As for me? The next day, I went to see Sarah. I had been hoping, by some chance, he'd be there.

******

                I walked up to the door slowly - the door of a woman Spike had been involved with quite intimately.

                "Just a minute!" I heard from the other side of the door and I waited, hoping he felt me there and would stay long enough to- to *some*thing - talk maybe. The door opened and she stood there looking at me.

                "I'm… Angel. We've never been formally introduced, but I'm Spike's-"

                "Boyfriend," she said.

                "*Mate*," I corrected. "Sire as well. I… it's complicated. Has he been here in the past day?"

                "No. Why?"

                "Because something happened… I'm… I think he's taken off - maybe permanently."

                "*What*?" she gasped, pain flooding her eyes. "*No*."

                "He… there was a fight and someone got killed - *he* killed someone - beat him to death. He's… complicated, Sarah. I brought some things. You… I know you think you're friends but I don't know where his mind is and you need to protect yourself from him right now. I brought an incantation and some crosses - it's a de-invitation spell, so he can't come in."

                "But he's my friend. He's… god he's *gone?" she whimpered, stifling her tears.

                "You're in love with him," I realized, as I looked at her standing there, as if I hadn't known that all along. What a pitiful pair we made - both in love with the same demon - both alone now because of my actions.

                "I… yes," she nodded. "He's… been sweet to me… taken care of me... listened to me… protected me…"

                "I know; that's Will, but-"

                "Will?" she asked.

                "His human name - before he was a vampire. William. He… could be dangerous. I'm just afraid he might hurt you - not intentionally. I don't think he meant to kill… it just happened. Please do the spell? I… it… *you* were important to him. I'd like to keep you alive, for *him*. For his sake; it's what he would have wanted me to do."

                "Is he… dead?" she asked softly, wiping her eyes but taking the bag from me.

                "I don't think so. I'd feel it if he were. He's just… gone."

******

                Gone.

                Every day for the past three weeks, I've tried to wrap my head around the concept that Spike is gone.

                I will never again make love to him in our bed, never wrap my arms around him, never press my lips to his and feel him kissing me back. I'll never know the intimate pleasures of his body again, never feel the way he fit next to me.

                I realize that never is a stupid word to use when we're both immortal and could virtually live forever. Perhaps one day, a hundred years down the road I'll be in a store, or walking down a street and I'll suddenly feel him - his presence. And maybe then… maybe then we could try again if he wants - if he's not taken up with someone else. Someone *else*. The words sting me so much - someone else.

But I know my boy will move on. Spike's never been one to stay lonely long; it doesn't agree with him. It pains me to think of Spike making love with someone else. But it couldn't be love, could it? Could he fall in love again? Without a soul? Without a bond? I pray not, but fear so.

                "Angel?" I look up and Cordy smiles softly. "Hey. Busy?"

                "Brooding, of course," I answer, since it's the only thing I can do anymore. "Vision?"

                "Wedding stuff. I know you're not… in a happy place, but… you said you'd help us with some money and…" she comes and sits on my desk in front of me. "And we'd like to take you up on that."

                "Yeah, of course, Cordelia, you know that. Anything for you," I tell her. Just because my life is shit, doesn't mean I don't want my closest friends happy. "How much do you need?" Not that it matters - she can have it all. I don't have anyone to spend it on now.

                "Five thousand?" she asks cautiously.

                "Done," I grin weakly.

                "Angel… do you… want to go looking for him or-"

                "No, Cordy. We've been through this. No. He's… if he wanted me to know where he was, I'd know. It's better this way - it just… didn't work. We tried - we tried really hard for four *years*, but it didn't work. It wasn't meant to be."

                "You tried longer than that, Angel. You've been trying for- when did you turn him? Late 1800's?"

                "And every time it goes to shit, because it's just not in the cards for us. We try and try and it never… it's done. I asked you to respect that. It's done. Spike is not part of our world anymore, okay?"

                If he'd been planning on coming back, he'd have left a note, or called or something.

                "Okay, okay. I… assume then that I should replace him in the wedding party?"

                "Yes. I would. Perhaps Michael would stand in as an usher or something."

                "I'll find someone. I… I'll understand if you don't want to be at the ceremony," she sighs softly, touching my hand. "I mean… I can ask Wes, to give me away or-"

                "No, Cordelia, I want to give you away. I'll… come for the ceremony and the dance, and then I'll probably slink off and-"

                "Brood?"

                "*Think*. I was going to say think," I say and she just stares at me. "I'll be fine. I promise. It's not the first time I've lost him. I'll deal - I always do. I just… have to get over the fact that I'm not able to be in a relationship. I just forgot for a while, but I remember now."

                "Poor, Angel… maybe you can date, or something. I bet Lorne could hook you up in some demon dating services."

                "Cordelia, *no*. I don't want anyone else. It's Spike - or nothing - for me."

                It always has been. We're two parts of the same.

                And now we're nothing, because he is gone.

~*~*~*~*~

******

                "Sorry, Luv, but I don't speak Chinese."

"Well, all right. Got the moves, don't you? I'm gonna ride you hard before I put you away, Luv."

                "You sure about that? You actually look a little wet and limp to me. And I ain't your 'luv'."

"I spent a long time trying to track you down. Don't want the dance to end so soon, do you, Nikki? The music's just starting, isn't it? By the way... love the coat."

                " Slaaayer! Here, kitty, kitty. I find one of your friends first, I'm gonna suck 'em dry. And use their bones to bash your head in."

******

                I can still hear the snap of Nikki's neck - how it felt in my hands. *Every* snap of the neck.

******

                "No. No please… I have a baby… please… my wife… ple-" SNAP.

                "I want my mommy! Where's my-" SNAP.

"Please just let me go. I'll do anything. Please… I-" SNAP.

******

                Each one echoes in my mind in achingly bright surround-sound-high-definition-digital-color-for-stunning-clarity-and-deadly-precision.

                I throw up again. Or still. I haven't quite figured that out.

                I just know that it's been nearly three weeks since… since… *since*.

~*~*~*~*~

                It's days like this when I remember why I don't come in here anymore - why I've basically plastered 'do not enter' signs on these doors. I hate the fact that I forgot a sword in here and I had to come looking for it. Our bedroom… or what used to be our bedroom. It's been nearly four weeks and I can't take being in here anymore than I could that first night I attempted to sleep in here, with images of Spike staring at me. How beautiful he looked in all my drawings and paintings! How *happy* we looked! I can't be in here, it's too much. It hurts too much to see his things - his pictures, his clothes, his carton of cigarettes he never got a chance to smoke… I don't come in here. It's filled with his smell. and memories of something that was never mine. and it's too painful to be here. Forget the sword.

                I close the door behind me and walk past his office - where his computer lies dormant for eternity. I haven't been in there either; after I tore it apart for a message that he'd return, I closed it and locked it. I haven't used the Jacuzzi room either. In fact, I haven't really been on this floor of the hotel. I moved my things up to the top floor, as far away as I could be. It was bad enough finding Mr. Flibble in my office desk and remembering the nasty things we did with him…

                But I can't have those things anymore because Spike is gone.

                "ANGEL!" Cordy screams. Oh thank god - vision. My only relief from the despair and solitary.

~*~*~*~*~

I am unable to attend Dawn's graduation from high school, what with it being outside on the lawn on the brightest day in Sunnydale history. So I stay in Buffy's house while everyone else goes to watch Dawn, who was just a scrap of a girl only years previous, walk across the stage and become a young woman.

I'm grateful for the quiet. I rarely remember a time when this house was so quiet - from the few times I've really been here. If I counted up the amount of time I spent here - spent with Buffy - it's very little compared to everything else. Our experience together was short lived and thank god it ended as it did - with as little blood shed as possible. It was just me trying to trick myself into thinking I was better than I am. I'm a demon, just like - like the person who I try not to mention as much as I possibly can.

Regardless if I'm trying to avoid saying his name or thinking it - he's still on my mind almost twenty-four seven. I try not to think that it's been nearly five weeks since I last saw him. Five weeks since Todd's death. But Spike leaving was longer in the making than that day five weeks ago; it started when I began trying to change him, trying to fit into the mold that I needed to be a champion.

I wonder if in five *years*, I'll still be consumed with thoughts of Spike. The last time we parted ways, seemingly permanent then too, was different because we weren't mates. We hadn't shared all we did here - we hadn't domesticated ourselves and gone Christmas shopping together. We hadn't slept beside each other in a bed while watching a dumb movie he'd picked out.

We were- it was different.

And yet I can't stop thinking about the *other* time… not in China but the… the time I saw him in the 20's that we've never spoken of. I can't stop thinking about how remarkably similar *this* is now to Miami.

                At times, it's hard to remember really. I think I tried *so* hard to blacken that time out in my memory - to *not* make it a memory of Spike and I - William and I. I try to *not* let it be part of our collective past, because it's… so much worse than anything I ever did to him in Sunnydale. What I did in Sunnydale was bad - hurting him, making him watch as I ravished and raped Drusilla and made her love it… that was… worse than anything - it still pains me that those are the last real memories of her 'Angel' that she ever got. But I've made my peace with that - he forgave me. He knew it wasn't really me - wasn't who I am and wasn't a part of our bond.

                But does the same go for Miami? In the dark at night, over the last five weeks since he left, I think of those few days. I start to think about the depth to which I used him, punished him as if he were me. Punished him for things I'd done and made him do - *taught* him to do. I punished him as if I was punishing myself because he's as good as a reflection as I thought I had at the time. I don't exactly know how it's different than Sunnydale, but I know it is, since we've talked about Sunnydale and we've never even *said* the word 'Florida' or 'Miami'. Never.

                But I still wonder if he thinks about then, and now, and if that's the real reason he left. The reason he's gone.

~*~*~*~*~

                "Angel?"

                I turn and I'm not surprised to see her. "Hey, Buffy," I say as she comes and sits beside me.

                "I thought I'd find you here. Checked a couple of other places, but… then this seemed like the more obvious choice after all. But why the garden?" she asks and I look around. The old mansion - even when I was living here again, I never really touched the garden - Dru's garden. I kinda left it alone and every now and then would sit and look at all the jasmine - night blooming, like me.

                "Drusilla loved it out here. One night, she buried herself in a box of dirt and slept there all day so she could be with the flowers."

                "Wow," she says. "You've never really… said anything like that before - like a memory of that time."

                "We never spoke about a lot when I came back, Buffy. About what happened… the things I did…"

                "Spike explained it, Angel. Me and him - we've talked. He explained that the Angelus we met and the one that turned him were two separate entities."

                "How is it you're one of the few people I can talk to, Buffy? When we were dating, we *never* talked."

                "That's because you were 'honey, you're in danger, bye'. Communication wasn't *my* fault. I was sixteen!" she laughs, and I suppose she's right. I treated her very much like a child when we were dating. "I guess we can talk now because we're friends, Angel. We're close - been through a lot together."

                "That we have, Miss Summers," I nod and glance down at my fingers. "Came here to think really."

                "About Spike?"

                "Yeah, he… inadvertently killed someone, Buffy. It wasn't… I drove him to it. It wasn't exactly his fault and that's why he left. We had a fight - I said things and… he probably felt like he couldn't stay."

                "He killed again?"

                "Just the one… that I know of. I… think you should do de-invite spells. Just… if he were going to come back here for you, he would have by now, but just in case."

                "Angel…" she touches my arm. "I'm so sorry."

                "I didn't think, Buffy. I just… I turned him. I didn't think about what it would do to him or what he would want. We didn't think it completely through and now he's gone. I don't think he'll be back - not in your life time anyway."

                "Is there any way to fix it? Can you find the demon that made him human and change him back again?"

                "I can't have that with him anymore, Buffy. I can't do that to him again - demon, human, demon, human… he's not a ping pong ball. He should have died years ago and stayed dead, but I changed his future and I can't change it *again*. Even as a human last year, he wanted to be a vampire again. That was his wish - knowing what it meant. That was Will's dying wish, so… I'll honor it and let him be."

                "Man… I thought you brooded before, but this is uber brood-mode."

                "I haven't told anyone else about the killing. It's not… I didn't know how."

                "I don't think he'll be back, Angel."

                "Me neither," I sigh. Me neither.

                He's gone.

~*~*~*~*~

                I open the door slowly, though I don't know why. I know he's not here. I know he's not around, because I can't feel him. But in many ways, I can feel him completely - not his physical presence, but his resonance.

                It's been five weeks since I've been here and in ways, it feels like much longer. It feels different - everything feels different somehow. I head upstairs and I wonder where they are. Shouldn't someone be here?

                I head to our bedroom and open the door and realize his stuff is missing. It's… stale in here. I wonder why he'd - no. I *know* why. Because if I were me and *he'd* left, I wouldn't be able to sleep here either. I drop my CDs on my dresser and I don't know what to do. That's why I came here. Because Angel… he's been through this. He'll know what to do. He'll help me.

                But of course, he's gone.

~*~*~*~*~

                I've been here two days waiting.

                I stripped and took a hot shower, put on clean clothes and then found his room - top floor, farthest away from our room of course. He didn't bring much up here, just some clothes and a few CDs of his, but none of our pictures. I realize now I should have left word or called or- but I didn't know. I didn't know I'd be back. I didn't know I'd be *this*.

                I didn't realize how much it must *hurt* him everyday. But it hurts me too, now, and I *need* him. I need him to come back and to help me deal with this because it feels like I'm being torn apart. Some minutes, it's so unbearable I can't stand it.

                I crawled into his bed, under his covers, and the scent of Angel still fills my lungs two days later - the blankets are warm and it's… semi-peaceful here. As peaceful as it can be. But I feel like if he were just *here*… that things might make sense or… be lessened. That something would settle.

                I hope it will, because I'll chop my own bloody head off if it never calms.

                Of course, he's dealt with this for a century and I've only dealt with it for a matter of a few weeks.

~*~*~*~*~

                Well I tried. I tried very hard to have fun and celebrate. I ate cake with everyone and gave Dawn the present Spike and I picked out for her back in December of last year. We'd been walking around at night, shopping for Christmas presents, when he saw really a beautiful, handmade, cedar trunk and thought it would be perfect for her to take to college - keep at the end of her bed with clothes or books. He insisted we get it, and he forced *me* to carry it home since he was a weakling and I was his 'strapping vampire manservant'.

                She, of course, loved it, and everyone sighed because of what great taste 'gay guys' have. And then I insisted that we're not gay, we're vampires. And that's really the truth. The whole bit wasn't as funny now that Spike is gone. And that started 'Broodfest Version 50.0' in Cordy's words. So I left - let them have their fun and stayed at the mansion until the LA crowd came to get me.

                "I'm not saying no, Baby, I'm just saying maybe Willow was right - maybe salmon isn't the way to go. I mean… salmon? Isn't that a pretty fish? The food shouldn't be prettier than me," Cordelia smiles. "Is salmon a pretty fish, Angel?"

                "No prettier than any other fish, I'm sure," I answer blankly as I drive, feeling… *some*thing as we get closer to the hotel. I try to discern what I'm feeling, but all I feel is loneliness and sadness and I know that's from me.

                "Do you think we should go back to like… chicken? But chicken is so… *not* elegant."

                I pull into the alley behind the hotel and park the car. They all head off toward home and I head into the hotel to be alone. Again. Forever, because he's- I inhale deeply and… god if only I were actually smelling him. My mind plays tricks on me all the time and I miss him *so* much. Every day for five weeks I've smelled him, felt him here, thinking he'd come back. I miss him so much it hurts inside - worse than the soul ever did - worse than the blinding light pouring it into my body.

                I walk up the stairs and go to our bedroom. I just… want to see his face again - a couple of the pictures - then I'll go up to sleep. I just need to see his eyes again.

                I open the door and walk over to the wall of pictures and stare at one of my favorite portraits I did of him, because I actually bribed him, through many sexual favors and CDs I hated, to sit still for two hours so I could try my hand at painting him. The painting isn't the *best* one, because I really didn't focus on anything other than those striking blue eyes - piercing and focused. And gone.

                This isn't good, Angel. Stop this nonsense. It's all nonsense. Just turn yourself around and walk out the door. Go to sleep and wake up tomorrow and do your job and sacred destiny and forget him. He's not coming-

                I stare at the dresser now - *his* dresser. I turned and caught the dresser out of the corner of my eye and now I'm staring at it. Were those CDs there before? I walk over to look at them - to see what ones they are. I don't want to touch them. I haven't disturbed anything of his since - but I don't think they were there.

                "Spike?!" I scream out. "SPIKE?!" I yell harder, yanking the computer room door open - nothing.

                Where the hell would he be? If he's been here… maybe he left a note or something? Maybe he found my bedroom? I race upstairs, practically falling backwards a few times, but I throw my bedroom door open and-

                He's in my bed. I blink a few times and pinch my arm. Am I hallucinating? Or dreaming? He's HERE?! He's sleeping in my bed?

                "No- no please… Luv… don't," he whispers. "Please no - not again. No. Don't do it- NOOO!" he screams as he thrashes around a bit and I run over to the bed as he flies up, gasping for air.

                God it's the same all the- "*Angel*," I whisper when I see him sitting, staring at me. "I've… I know it's…" God I don't even have the words. I just need him so badly. "Please… help me. I can't take this, Angelus. I can't… I don't know how you do it all the time. I'm going *crazy* - stark raving mad sometimes it's so blinding. I can't handle this - I'm not strong enough. I thought I was, but I'm not. I'm not. It burns my insides - makes them liquid sometimes- so hot I can't stand being in my own skin. Please…"

                What is he talking about? "Spike, slow down… you can't… *be* here if you've been killing. If you're planning on - as much as I want you here, this can't work. You know it can't."

                "No. Shh. I'm not- Angel, just *help* me," he says and throws himself into my arms. "God, I can't take this another second, Liam. What the hell did I do?"

                "Spike, what *did* you do?" I ask. I'm so confused. But I hold him just the same. "If you hurt someone else… I know I drove you to it, but- we have to talk about this." I pull away a little to look at him. He's *so* thin. Why is he thin? Has he not been eating? "Why are you so thin and pale, Spike? Aren't you eating?"

                "No. I can't," he says, looking at me. "Can't do it. It all tastes… disgusting, like death and decay and rot."

                What the hell is his problem? He's not making any sense. It's almost like he has a-

                Oh my god. Oh my *god*.

                "William?" I ask softly.

                Bingo ladies and gentleman- the pouf finally gets it.

                He's staring into my eyes so deeply, penetrating them with his own. "Got it… for *you*," I tell him quietly. "So I can be here - be yours. Be worthy. I got it - for you."

                "Your soul," I barely whisper. "You… got your soul."

 

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