This is for tabaqui who gave me a line from a book!



The films of his thought hanging beyond words curled and withered, made all the motions of the thinnest tissue caught in blasting flame.

Dhalgren - Samuel R. Delany

Gone

by
Kyrieane

It was all twisted and skewered in his mind, the want and the need and the blood. Balanced and hanging like some demented marionette owned by the Devil. Waiting begging praying for it to all end, for the bitch to come back and finish him off, slice and dice and stake until there was nothing left of his misery but bits of ash carried God knows where by the wind. The light was bright too bright too sharp too everything as they peeled back his eyelids and poked his eyes with wires and slivers of wood, metal and nylon and buckles and straps holding breaking crushing. Everything was flying apart, shattered like green glass on the ocean shore, waves calling and mocking him with familiar voices. His Princess enticing him to dance with the virgins, before their innocent blood decorated her ivory flesh. Angelus cupping fondling fucking Dru on the bed while he lay helpless on the floor. Viscera-stained images rolled like molten rock in his memory, somewhere his voice was screaming its rage to an uncaring unfeeling sky. The moon split apart, showering him with silver drops of mercury, cauterizing the jagged edges of panic. Rough bits of bone danced along his arm, teasing him out of the abyss, bone turned to muscle turned to scarred callused fingertips. Gleaming metal turned to burnished wood to quiet frightened eyes. Love and love and love and the tiny skitters of wire in his brain shriveled withered gone. The gaping empty began to heal itself, tiny spiders making cells and neurons and paths to connect bits and parts. Warm and dark and patient took over and masked the wretched yesterdays, making them insignificant not to be bothered with. Tomorrow to want and need and blood. Whole today to love and fuck and be.

“You in there somewhere?” Strings and chains to pull him into the light, warm lips and blood rushing around tight muscles. “It’s gone, all gone.” Tired hands to sweep tickle feathers from his face run the razor seam of the incision. Bone melding together under the tentative caress, everything is all right, pet. Fine fine be just fine now pet. Arms feel buried under wet sand, pressure tight and heavy all over, tingles shocks like little white lightning bolts down to his feet. But the scent of life is strong all around.

“Xan.” Shards of metal filings across the roof of his mouth, back in his throat, down his gut. And Xander is there, hovering kissing petting.

“S’all right, Spike, I’m here right here, can you feel me? Can you hear me?” honey dark voice full of fear and scared and help and he wants to get up and kill whatever caused it. But it’s him, causing the fear and scared and help. Love. So full of love and want and need and now.

Colors focus, his thoughts come back together like a mirror shattering in reverse. The chip is gone.

And she wrote me this! gratuitous smut! Mink

The End

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