All About Spike - Plain Version
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Worst. Day. Ever
The pain in his rattled bones is nothing compared to the sight of her, lying limp on a pile of rubble and smashed concrete. Nothing compared to the sense of abysmal failure that chokes him like death never could.
Buffy should be alive, toss back her hair, mock Glory's shoe craving - proud of her own stylish boots.
Something sharp and barbed twists inside Spike's chest, an ache he hasn't known in over a hundred years and there's not enough booze in the world to wash it away.
It's not the end of the world, but it bloody feels like it.
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