Spike drifted closer. The Ascenders were too afraid to stop him, too consumed with the white fire blazing from the angel's arm.
He could see her eyes now. They had lost their irises and pupils, and were now a solid white, like twin moons in her face. Her robes waved in the heat of the purifying light. Her mouth was open; he could see the cords in her neck vibrating, but no sound emanated from her voice.
Her throat. It was so pale, so clean…
Spike put a foot in the circle of moonlight bathing her and the chair. Suddenly she dropped her gaze to him and reached out her left hand.
There was an uproar in the room and the hundreds of cloaked people rushed forward to take her hand. "Forgiveness!" Spike heard, or perhaps it was "Forgive us!". But either way, it was the balled pouring from every voice, every soul in the room. They all cried out, fighting one another for her touch.
But it was Spike who took two steps forward and grasped her palm. He reached out and took the pale hand that reached out, and moved closer.
Suddenly she lifted off the ground, levitating, floating just two or three inches from the concrete below. Her bare feet swung clear of the floor.
Spike gripped her hand tighter. She was going to fly away! She was going to leave him here, break the touch he found redeeming above all else.
So this is what the touch of God feels like. Kind of nice…he thought. It was like just holding her hand was forgiveness for all he had ever done wrong in the eyes of the Lord. If he would only come with her, he could finally die and be released; he could escape the Devil and see the real God.
She embraced him, and as a wave of comfort enveloped him he put his arms around her as well. This could last forever as far as he was concerned. He was vindicated, absolved, and all around pardoned! Ring the bells and strike up the choir, because Spike was faultless again. He had God's own forgiveness!
The only hitch was, he didn't want to be forgiven.
Letting out a growl of the most earthbound fury, he vamped and dug his fangs down into her neck.
"No!" The cry rose up around him from the throat of every being in the room, including the Scoobies below.
"You can't kill her, Spike! Gabriel will be set free, and the sheer amount of holy energy will destroy earth!" Giles yelled up at him.
But the blood was already running. The liquid came in spurts of red and clear, and it spilled down his throat and all over his chin.
He looked down. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't making any sound at all. Tears were tracing their ways down her cheeks, and she looked up with sadness in her eyes.
Can't kill her, then? Well…she's as good as dead anyway.
Suddenly he heard Dru's voice in his head, completely out of place and out of nowhere.
Can't kill her, pretty Spike? Have to keep the angel in her…so do what only you can do. Keep that angel from its precious daylight. Let it stare at the stars from behind her pretty green eyes and weep tears of stars because it will never see its God again. You never believed in God anyway, Daddy.
He smirked to himself. That's right. I don't believe in God anymore. So why not rob the deity of His precious seraph?
Spike bit his tongue and pushed the bleeding tip into the wounds on her neck. She seemed so fragile, so about to shatter in his arms, so he couldn't force it too hard. But she tasted like something he remembered from long ago…from before he himself woke to the darkness. He struggled to remember…
He didn't notice the feathers of her wings changing color. Their roots turned black and slowly the color bled up into the shafts.
But he felt it when they began to fall off, dropping feather by feather to the floor below where they instantly decayed and faded into the floor, burning their shapes into the cement.
Soon, all seven wings were gone, and her blood stopped flowing. The wound closed up, and Spike felt her skin go cold.
