„This shell… you had affection for it. For Fred." Illyria stated with her usual cold curiosity.
"Tons. Loved the bird." Spike replied, noncommittally.
"Yet you strike at her form without sentiment." The blue-haired demon goddess queried further.
"You ain't her. I can see it. Lord knows I can smell it. And I got no problem hittin' it." And Spike struck out at his sparring opponent again, catching her in her middle.
No, she wasn't Fred. She'd never be and he would never see Fred again.
She had been the only one to believe in him, the only one to see more in him than the worst annoyance.
Fred had talked to him, her presence had reassured him so many times when he was stuck between the World of the Living and Hell as a ghost and he would never see her smile again.
Never again…
Spike struck out harder, yet Illyria deflected his stroke and turned the force against him, making him land on the floor hard, a few feet away. But he got up and threw himself into the fight again, dealing blow after blow.
No, he would never see Fred again. He would never hear her beautiful voice again or her contagious laugh.
He had confided in her, told her about thoughts and fears of which no other person knew and he would never be able to do that again, to hear those words again…
"… that you're worth saving…"
She had tried to save him and though she hadn't managed to re-corporealise him, she had surely saved his soul.
She had believed in him… and he couldn't save her.
