[ There's something about his hand leaving her arm that snaps her out of it, bringing that ache rising back to the surface from the dark depths where she'd tried to hide it. This is Spike and she needs to focus on what's important here, of which her fourth death does not make the list.
Looking down at his hand on the dirt, her own fingers pick up some of that red dust, testing it before turning her gaze back up to him. He's the center of her universe in that moment, the only thing that makes any sense. ] Spike, how are you here? What is this place? Why— Why don't I remember dying?
no subject
Looking down at his hand on the dirt, her own fingers pick up some of that red dust, testing it before turning her gaze back up to him. He's the center of her universe in that moment, the only thing that makes any sense. ] Spike, how are you here? What is this place? Why— Why don't I remember dying?