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He’s
lying. Does he think he can fool me? Trouble is, I can’t work out about
what. There are so many layers of lies on Angel, they are like sediment,
obscuring the truth.
It’s warm in the car. The poof has turned the heating up, trying to create
an illusion of warmth in this otherwise chilly atmosphere. It’s raining
and the persistent movement of the washers, back and forth, back and forth,
intensifies the feeling of being cut off from the world. It’s almost hypnotic.
I stare out into the wet night and I’m thinking about blood.
Have you ever been to a slaughter-house?
Don’t.
I guarantee you’d never eat meat again. When you’re a predator, you can’t
afford to slow down enough to think about the food. You need to fuck it
and rip it, tear it and maim it. You need blood pouring like a river through
your brain.
And the lion shall lie down with the lamb? Bet the fucker didn’t want
to eat lamby after that! Cus he got too cosy with ‘im.
I know. I’ve been slowed down. One hundred and twenty six years of fuckin’
and ripping and tearing and maiming ‘em. Life’s been a haze of blood.
No focus. One day it all slowed. I slowed. Got chipped. And when I slowed,
and the blood cleared? Shit, then the focus returned. Then I started to
see them.
So, yeah! Empathy sucks. Cus I can’t. Suck. Cus I don’t want to. I like
them. I like being with them. I like watching emotion flit over their
faces. I like hearing them laugh. I like making them laugh. I like that
they are alive. I’m sick of death and dead things and darkness.
But I don’t know how to do this. I’m lost and I have no guide.
I can’t make a connection with them beyond their fear and their hatred
for me. They get to practice this connection thing. They have a childhood.
They’re allowed to make mistakes. I’m a hundred and twenty six and I don’t
know how to say, ‘I’m sorry’. I’m a hundred and twenty six and I don’t
know how to say, ‘I need you’. I don’t know the rules. I frighten them.
I gave Red a Birthday present. A ring. I’d stolen it years ago in England
for Dru, but she said the Druids screamed at her from it and never wore
it. So I thought the Witch would like it. But I couldn’t cope with the
pleasure the gift gave her. The pleasure it gave me.
Giles is suspicious of me. I know he is. He watches me with those knowing
eyes of his. Protecting his children. And he has a right to be afraid.
Not cus I’d bite them. Because I may smother them. Smother them with my
need. I need them to teach me. Teach me how to lie down with them. Cus
I have no one else. The person I relied most on in the world, whose thigh
is merely inches from mine, is effectively lost to me. He is my Sire.
He was my teacher, my mentor, my friend, my lover. He was my north, my
south, my east, my west. But now I’m lost. I have no reference points
by which to navigate this new land. I am alone. I am scared.
Empathy hurts.
I’m
lying to him and I think he knows that I am. What he doesn’t know, is
what I’m lying about. He sees through the lie about the chip. He’s not
that gullible, despite what Giles thinks. What does the Watcher know?
He sees only the public front Spike chooses to put out to the world. You
don’t get to be one hundred and twenty six years, seven months and fifteen
days old, without being smart. That’s why he’s here, to see what advantage
there might be to him. Despite the lies.
He’s pretending to look out of the window, into the steadily falling rain.
But I know he’s thinking about me. Thinking about how I’ve let him down.
Six months I’ve been waiting to have him with me again. Six months of
phone calls to Giles every week, wanting to ask about him, never wanting
to mention his name. Six months of needing to know. Needing to know if
it was going to happen to him, too. If he was going to develop a soul.
A mechanical one albeit, but still a functioning soul. That small part
inside of you, where you feel affinity for others. That small part where
you hear their pain and sense their despair. Giles’ phone call tonight
told me that it was time.
Time for me to come for him.
I turn my head to look at him. He is still feigning indifference to this
situation. I am going to tell him the truth. I don’t want him to go on
thinking I am going to help him with the chip. That’s the last thing I
want to do. Spike’s chip was like a gift from God, for me. It brought
my Childe to join me in this new land, where empathy makes us suffer for
the suffering of others.
But as I open my mouth to frame the words my cellphone rings.
‘Angel.’
‘Oh, Angel, good. It’s Wesley. Cordelia’s had a vision. A woman, it appears
to be in a park. We think we’ve located it. Can you go straight there?
It’s rather nasty I’m afraid.’
‘Spike is with me.’ I turn to him as I say these words and he looks back
at me. Our eyes meet for the first time tonight. ‘It’s work. It’s bad,’
I say to him with no inflection in my voice. Let him make the first move.
He just shrugs and continues to stare out of the window.
‘Alright, give me directions. We’ll go straight there.’
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