Author: Jennifer
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Spoilers: Grave – Season 6
Summary: Spike and soul.
Author's Notes: Short. I have no idea why I wrote this. :P
GOTTA HAVE SOUL
Does a soul really make a difference?
A clawed hand hits his bleeding chest, burning his wounds. Blood dripping from the pristine white skin and an agonizing cry rips through the air. And everything is erased. Blackness looms in his mind, and there is nothing. He feels nothing. He sees nothing. He hears nothing. He is nothing.
In a second, he goes slamming back to reality. The rough talon digging into his torso, the blood dripping off of him in volumes, and the torturous yells protruding from his throat.
Something inside him changes. Like he's been ripped apart from within. Swarming, stinging wasps, and crawling, biting fleas mixing underneath his skin. He's still screaming.
The dusty ground beneath his back is barely registered as memories of murder and bloodshed slam into his brain with the ferocity of a ten-story tidal wave. He breathes in deep, not that he needs to, and sobs out loudly into his ever-playing screams.
Flashes of light, burning, burning, oh, so, burning… the pain is constant. Heavy, pushing him down, deeper and deeper. Then. It's. Gone.
His eyes are open. His breathing is ragged.
And
He
Feels…
Does a soul really make a difference?