Prompt# 102-Thus Spoke Zarathustra- Penance- spiceblueeyes- Buffy the Vampire Slayer

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Title: Penance
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
Prompt: Thus Spoke Zarathustra-102
Warnings: Angst, self-harm
Rating: R
Summary: After getting his soul, Spike offers penance.

This is my first try at writing angst, so I hope it turned out okay.

The cross hung from a thin silver chain, dangling from Spike’s hand as he held it out in front of him. It shook slightly because Spike’s hand was trembling. He hadn’t fed in a week, and the hunger was getting to him. His newly acquired soul wouldn’t let him eat people, but he hadn’t yet stooped to low as to hunt animals. He knew it was only a matter of time though.

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                Spike slowly dragged the cross across his stomach, feeling it burn his flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain. This was right. He deserved this, this and more.

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                He’d found this cross in a jewelry store window display. Once he saw it, he knew he had to have it; it was like it was made just for him. Two intersecting spikes formed a cross shape. They were meant to be nails, but could easily be taken as railroad spikes. Spike thought that is was very appropriate, considering what he planned on using it for.

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            He had to help the girl. He’d hurt her, but now she needed his help. Something was coming, and she couldn’t handle it alone. He would make his way back from Africa to America, and on to Sunnydale, California. He would help her, and maybe she would forgive him.

Not that he expected her forgiveness.

Not that he deserved it.

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            The cross swung slightly as he held it above his thigh, his hand was trembling, hunger and pain weakening him. He lowered it gently onto his bare skin. Watching the smoke rise from his charring flesh, he hissed. This was good. He deserved this. He purged his sins with the burn from the cross; pain in flesh stopped the anguished guilt in his head.

            Though only for a little while.

            Long enough for him to function in the world. It kept him sane, so he could help her. Help the girl. **************************************************************************************                    

            The pain was a penance, offered to whatever god was listening. Or maybe Nietzsche and his Zarathustra were right, maybe god is dead. In any case, he did it anyway.

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            He brought the cross up to his chest and pressed it into his skin where his unbeating heart lay. Holding it there. He relished the burning, the smell of his own skin cooking, he deserved it, all of it, and more. It was penance.

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            He had no hope of redemption, that was Angel’s gig, and most who could grant him forgiveness he’d sent to the grave long ago. He still did this penance though. It felt right, granted him a small sense of peace. He’d done wrong, murdered, raped, tortured, and those were the standard nights on the town. The times he’d gotten creative…

                At least he was paying for it. He made sure he was paying for it, a little at a time.

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                He peeled the cross off of his chest; bits of burnt skin came away with it. He couldn’t dust yet, still had to help the girl, maybe someday though.

In the meantime...

he gave penance.

If you want to know what Spike's cross looks like go to: http://churchsupplier.com/shopsite_sc/store/html/christian_necklaces.html

The pewter nail cross necklace