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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
Stats:
Published:
2020-11-04
Words:
423
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
7
Hits:
887

Wither Blister Burn + Peel

Summary:

Spike can feel his soul as the Chosen one. (Spoilers for Chosen)

Work Text:

Spike knew as soon as he touched the medallion that he was going to die. Part of him wondered if Buffy knew it too, and that's why she hadn't let her darling Angel be her champion this time. Wondered if she even cared that she was marching him off to sacrifice himself like a lamb. Wondered if she even gave a single thought as to why he was doing it. If she knew how much he loved her. Then as she closes his hand around it, and tells him that there's no one else she trusts to be her champion but him, he realizes it really doesn't matter. It's enough that she's chosen him, for once.

- = - = -

When the ceiling crumbles and Spike is trapped in the amber light of the sun, he sighs. For the first time, he knows that he feels his soul because it's *there,* an almost palpable thing inside of him that's burning him from the inside out in it's haste to be released. His skin isn't blistering, cracking or peeling like he thought, and he's not withering away either. It's as though who he is--his soul, he realizes it now--is growing too large to be contained within a single individual. He is the Champion now, more than human and yet still souled, and he can feel the largess swelling inside of him, as though it could burst forth at any second and annihilate everything in his path.

He knows that's his destiny now, and he doesn't blame the Slayer. She didn't know, he realizes, as he sees her reach out to him. He's talking to her, telling her to leave, that he can feel his soul, but his words are inadequate now. He feels something else too, the soft slide of the Slayer's fingers into his, and he squeezes them, feeling her skin stroking against his as they clasp hands, his skin igniting but not burning her.

"I love you," he hears her say, but his soul can see into hers and he knows it isn't true. Love burns there, for a vampire, but it's not for him.

"No you don't," he said softly, squeezing her fingers. "But thank you for saying it."

He's sure he says something else to get her moving, because she leaves just as the entire place collapses around him, and his soul finally bursts free.

End
Improv #: 3 (70) [blister--blame--amber--stroke]