Written 11:57 pm, May 20th
I bring you a Spike drabble, series finale.
“I hope you dance ‘til you burn.”
“You are dead inside.”
“What’s a word means glowing?”
Footsteps faded. He wanted to remember her smell, but all he saw was fire and light.
So this was it. This was magic, fate, life.
It burned. It stung. It was fucking brilliant.
No, he was brilliant. Radiant. It was in him—this was inside him.
Look at me, he wanted to cry. I have the light. This light is in me.
I have all of this inside of me. William the fucking Bloody. Spike. I am here.
If he hadn’t been trapped glowing like a prismed nova, he’d have laughed.
And I’m not empty.
He smiled, and he shined.