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Waking to RealityAUTHOR'S NOTE: I figured I'd stick this here, just in case the beginning of this deters you. Read on before determining that Spike is totally out of character, ok? I promise, it makes sense in the end!Waking to Reality in Drama
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Tall and skinny.
Aggressively hunched posture.
It's him, all right. Spike.
I hesitate to think of him that way, but
I can't help it. No one loves him like I do, I know that
I know he doesn't feel the same, but I can't help it. He's
He's always been 'my Spike'.
Not in a possessive way, though! Just
In a way that
I care where no one else does. So I'll do what I can to take care of him like no one else does.
I can't believe he's here. At the tree house
I've come here every day for the past two weeks, and he hasn't been here. I doubted he'd ever want to see me again after
I figured he hated be, but
There he is.
SPIKE and HatredSPIKE and HatredSPIKE and Hatred in Settings
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"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
The man left the room, the glowing embers of crazed lust in his eyes and sick satisfaction running fresh through his veins, leaving the boy, Spike, lying in the bed that has witnessed more dark deeds then sin. They had become more frequent lately, these nightly visits from his uncle, Charles. Those nights when he prayed for sleep, not for relief of exhaustion, but so he could sleep through the staining actions that he preformed. But strangely this night offered him that retreat, which had unfortunately come later than needed, and as sleep over took his cold and trembling body he fell into dreaming.
He could hear scratching, scratching on the sickly white walls that surrounded him, and outlined the large room that he was in, his bare feet, chilled against the wet linoleum and