Summary: You never wanted me, did you?
Spike crawled along the trail, so so terribly hungry.
"You never wanted me, did you?" he said; his eyes remained on the rat in front of him. The foul little beast just sat there, licking it little paws, cleaning up dirt that would never leave it's foul little skin, laughing with him and his miserable attempts at stealth, probably planning to talk to its little rat buddies about the silly vampire who actually thought he could make it his meal.
"Never good enough, never suitable."
The rat just ignored him.
"William was a good boy, but you didn't want a good boy. No no, never a good boy, unless it was over your desk, sticking up his ass for you. Please headmaster not the whip. William will be ..."
He stopped suddenly, lifting his head as if to listen to a voice only he could hear. He sighed in admission. Of course he wouldn't be. Wouldn't couldn't. Filthy little beast he was. Dirt under his fingernails. "Cut them off, the blood is still there."
"Just Drusilla's boy, waste of space. Go to your room William, listen William, hands on top of the blanket William. William didn't listen. Didn't keep his paws off, got them tapped. One, two, three, four, five thank you sire, six, seven ..."
"Didn't want me, never wanted me, took William just the same.
The rat went down, he made ready to pounce. The rat escaped. And the sound of his sire's laughter echoes, it always does. He passed right through him.