Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or anything affiliated 
with it. I'm just using the character(s) for my own amusement. No 
money is being made.

Author's Notes: My first Buffy fic! ::mini-cheer:: Not beta'd, so 
don't yell. . . This is from Spike's point-of-view.
Spoilers: Season finale of season 6

Summary: Confusion is the primary emotion, then anger. Spike's got his
soul back, but he doesn't understand what's happening.

Awakening
By: Lizzy
PG

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*.* = dream

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"Nooo!" the demon within screamed, desperately trying to fight against 
the new entity that was being forced in. One of them was going to be 
dominant, and the demon wanted to be it. This body was an empty shell 
when he had entered. The should had left and gone on, leaving the body 
six feet beneath the surface just waiting to be used.

After one final, tortured scream, the demon was forced down and the 
soul took over the shell.

"Where the bloody hell am I?" he asked to the surrounding darkness. He 
could have sworn that somebody else had been in there with him, but he 
couldn't remember. 

The dominant emotion was confusion. Confusion as to where he was, how 
he got there, and where his friends were. One of his last memories was 
of leaving a party where his beloved had been. After that, his memory 
almost ceased to exist.

He gingerly stood up, aware of the intense pain in his chest. He looked 
down and saw a slightly glowing print that looked animal, not human. 
He lurched forward, attempting to remember how to get out of the caves, 
but no such memory came. Instead, flashes of bloodied bodies, screams 
of horror and terror came over him like a tsunami.

He fell to the ground in shock, not comprehending what his memory was 
dredging up. Images of pain, torture, and mayhem floated through his 
psyche. Several faces stuck out like a sore thumb in his recollection, 
though he couldn't quite put a name to them. It was as if they were 
from a different life.

The horrors within his skull became clearer and more distinct. He 
slowly began to realize that he had killed so many innocent lives. He 
closed his eyes tightly in a vain attempt to stop the barrage of images. 
He watched his own hand torture dozens. The blood splattered everywhere 
as railroad spikes were slowly jammed into the victims. Their screams 
of anguish resonated throughout his head. He screamed with them.

He curled into the fetal position and began to weep bitterly. It hadn't 
been him, but it was: All the innocents dead by his hand were 
incomprehensible. He never believed himself to be capable of such 
atrocities. He was nothing more than a lowly poet. He couldn't have 
done the things his memory was showing him. It wasn't him.

He eventually fell into a restless slumber. His dreams were vivid and 
filled with pain.

*Stalking. Preying. She screamed silently as his teeth sank into her 
neck. She began to go limp as he drained the life force out of her, 
relishing in its power. It strengthened him; made him feel healthier. 
She gave one last pitiful moan as she died in his arms. He carelessly 
tossed her body to the ground, reveling in the feeling of the blood 
pounding in his veins.

"It gives you color," the man hissed into his ear. A hand clapped him 
on his back and the man disappeared. Screams rang out into the chill 
night around him, and he went in search of his next victim.*

He didn't know how long he lay there, intermittently crying softly and 
dozing, but when he came to again, a thing stream of light filtered in 
through a crevice on the far wall. It lit up the area to the right of 
him, but he was still in total darkness.

He sat up groggily, praying that it had all been a bad dream. He 
glanced around, taking stock of where he was. He almost immediately 
recognized the cave walls, but anything else had yet to penetrate his 
brain. He shook off whatever was creeping on the fringes of his mind 
and ran his hands over his face, trying to remember.

Just then, his stomach rumbled loudly, its plaintive cry reminding him 
that he had to eat. Figuring out where he was could be dealt with later.
Right now, he needed food.

He slowly stood up, his exhaustion from lack of sustenance rearing its 
ugly head. He placed a pale hand against the cave wall for support. He 
remembered how to get out of the labyrinth of tunnels, so he headed for 
the exit.

He stumbled his way through the rock-encased hallways, stopping to 
rest occasionally from fatigue. After nearly an hour, he arrived at 
the last tunnel. He could see the light shining into the cave, 
illuminating the walls. Ancient motley drawings decorated the walls

He took in the beauty of it all, then slowly made his way towards the 
entrance. He reached out an arm along the wall, into the area of 
sunshine. He fingered one of the glyphs, but quickly pulled his 
extremity back when he felt a burning sensation. The tips of his 
fingers caught fire as they were withdrawn from the light.

His eyes widened in horror and shock at this latest revelation. He 
quickly used his other hand to quench the fire ravaging his fingertips. 
He stumbled backwards and tripped on a rock. He felt himself falling 
backwards and landing, but was too dazed to notice any injury.

"What the bloody hell am I?" he shouted out in fear, his voice 
resonating off of the walls. He desperately tried to remember, wracking 
his brain. Fragments of memories filtered through his mental eye, too 
fast to be understood. He tried to slow them down, but they wouldn't. 
There were too many and they all wanted their time in the spotlight.

He lay there for hours, trying to understand what was going on. The 
memories began to slow down as the time passed, but they were still out 
of order. His mind began to correct the order, one by one, starting 
with the earliest. That's when it hit him.

He sat straight up and whispered quietly into the night, "I'm a 
vampire!"

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The End.

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