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Chapter Text

" I put on that sweater you gave me
I woke up in the kitchen a few minutes later
I didn't know how I had gotten there
Did you guide me?
I didn't make it to your funeral
I didn't want ritual or resign
So lost I was asleep in the palms of your hand
In dreams we were happy and safe
I can't comprehend the ways I miss you
They come to light in my mistakes
In my mistakes
In my mistakes"
:Neko Case, South Tacoma Way:


"The stars burn. You can't quite touch 'em, can you? They burn, burn, burn. Tiny little holes right through Spikey."

The vampire made his way through the alleyway. Drunkenly stumbling around trash cans toppled like boxes, Spike muttered to himself; his own crazy voice more soothing than the reviling buzz of victims tearing through his head.

"Time, time, running out of time. Have to get back home. Quick like a bird."

He paused, sensing something wrong. Subtle, like changing a recipe by adding extra salt. The air reeked of dark changes. Unnatural and erratic. Alarmed, Spike braced himself for danger.

"I hear you, you know. Your skittering little legs. Didn't think I could, did you?"

There— in the corner behind the dumpster— a buzzing.

At first a low hum, Spike's eyes narrowed and he grabbed a nearby bent golf club, sticking out of a soggy cardboard box like a spider leg, and slowly stalked towards the noise. The humming grew louder like a cacophonous swarm of bees.

Swatting the air around him, Spike crouched ready, club swung behind him like a baseball bat. Slow steps brought him closer to the dumpster. As the buzzing grew, so did his nervousness.

Swallowing loudly, he whispered "Bring it on, luv."

As the last word left his lips, the buzz exploded in a brilliant nebula. Spike lifted his arm to try and shield his eyes as a thousand luminous shards pierced his flesh.

The light was the last thing he saw before blacking out.