I feel so cold. Like I can never get warm away. I wonder if vampires feel this way sometimes. I think I've shed a tear or two, but my eyes hurt from unshed tears. It's not that I'm trying to pull off some macho bullshit crap, but I can't... I can't seem to cry. My throat is parched and I feel like a frog has taken permanent residence in there, but I can't cry.

I wonder if it's my subconscious' way to tell me, that if I cry now, I don't know if I'll ever stop.

I've fought evil for years, and it had always been about demons, vampires and zombies. Beings that are inherently evil. I think back to Buffy saying that killing humans is a slayer no-no. But *are* humans any better than demons? We have souls... but today confirmed what we have known throughout history.

Humans are ugly, uncaring, unrespectful, petty and just plain evil beings.

I look at Spike, who had being caught by the sunlight still in my apartment. We had watched the whole thing together. I never thought I'd see a vampire... an unsouled vamp being so upset about mass murder as I have today.

I remember that like L.A., NYC is the home of hundreds of demons and vampires. And if memory serves me right, Spike had spent a lot of time in the Big Apple. Making enemies. Making friends.

I realize that the body count is much higher than the authorities will know or say.

I let out a frustrated sigh, what could be the one-millionth sigh during this day. I turn to Spike, who's sitting next to be in the dining room table.

"Anyone you knew?"

Spike looks up at me from contemplating the congealing blood in the mug in his hands.

He starts crying and I gasp, doubly surprised. Because Spike is crying, and he's crying blood.

"Last I heard from Dru, she was in New York."

I feel so bad for not asking before, but I can't do anything about that now. So I do the only thing I can. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and pull him close, so his head rests on my shoulder, his face pressed to my neck.

His voice is muffled when he speaks, but I understand.

"What am I gonna do if my Dark Goddess is dust?"

"You have me, Spike. You'll always have me," I assure him as I press a kiss to his temple.

The phone rings, startling us. Without stopping to think Spike rushes to pick it up.

"DRU?!"

I can't hear the reply to the shouted plea, but it's not Dru. That much I can gather from his body language.

"Angelus... are you... have you heard fr..." Spike stops talking and interrupting and turns slightly away from me. I see the sob that shakes him, and I'm already up and walking towards him.

As I pull him to face me, I'm shocked to see him smiling. A shaky, small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Thank God! Thanks, Sire. Let me know if she calls again. Night."

For the first time today, my sigh is from relief, and I wonder since when do I care about what happens to Drusilla.

But as I watch Spike's face, blood tearstains on his face, contrasted by the most honest and beautiful smile I have ever seen on him, I realize something. Something big. I don't care about Dru. I care about Spike.

Glancing at the television, still spewing images of horror, I realize something else.

Life is a bitch. You never know how it's gonna slap you.

Today is a day of mourning, but also a day of taking chances. Doing everything you always have put off till another day. Of risking everything 'cause tomorrow you may have nothing to risk.

I look back at Spike, who's still smiling, and I offer thanks to whoever's listening, that I have the opportunity to do this. That today, I can pull Spike closer to me and kiss him senseless. That I can tell him how much I love him. That I can hear him moan and kiss me back, tell me he loves me too, that he had waited so long for this.

And I can feel the salt of my tears in our lips.