starno_star
Everything was black. For so long, there was darkness, and I was floating, weightless, lost. Then slowly, something began to pull me down, pull me in and I went spinning back down into consciousness.
Opening my eyes slowly, I try to take in my surroundings, but there's like this empty space in my mind where something should be. My memories? What's my name? Dawn... Dawn Summers. Where am I? I have no idea.
I try to take a breath and something seizes up in my chest and I end up coughing frantically. I can't breathe! But through the panic I realize that while breathing kind of hurts, I don't actually need to do it. I blink at the darkness around me and realize that I can see through it. Not really see, more like... sense.
I'm sprawled in the back of a car, a familiar car, Spike's car. One of my legs is tucked under me, the other is hanging off the seat. I clear the hair out of my eyes, my movements surprisingly quick and easy, and realize that I'm lying in someone's lap. Spike. I just know. I can smell the leather of his jacket and the smoke that always kind of hangs in a cloud around him and the old mustiness of the back seat, a faint tang of liquor. And blood. Lots of blood.
My stomach does the vampire equivalent of a rumble.
Slowly, everything rushes back to me. Willow's spell, Spike's memory loss, me trying to make him remember, him almost killing me... and then really killing me.
My god. I'm dead.
Wicked.
Spike appears to be asleep. He looks drawn and pale, which I guess makes sense since he had to donate a lot of blood to me. Although I guess it was my blood anyway since he almost killed me. He loves me.
That later. I'm hungry.
Tossing my hair back, I gather my limbs and move quietly, gracefully, marveling at the way my muscles obey me so easily. I throw one leg over Spike and straddle him, tracing my fingertips gently down the side of his face, marveling at his beauty. He always looked so good when he was asleep. But only do I realize how perfect he is. He's fucking flawless.
His jacket slides against my bare leg, my short enough skirt ripped, and every touch, every sensation is amplified. I don't know why he wanted to hold me back from all this. I don't see the downside at all. I trace my fingertips over his lips gently, leaning in.
"Spike, love, time to wake up now."
Opening my eyes slowly, I try to take in my surroundings, but there's like this empty space in my mind where something should be. My memories? What's my name? Dawn... Dawn Summers. Where am I? I have no idea.
I try to take a breath and something seizes up in my chest and I end up coughing frantically. I can't breathe! But through the panic I realize that while breathing kind of hurts, I don't actually need to do it. I blink at the darkness around me and realize that I can see through it. Not really see, more like... sense.
I'm sprawled in the back of a car, a familiar car, Spike's car. One of my legs is tucked under me, the other is hanging off the seat. I clear the hair out of my eyes, my movements surprisingly quick and easy, and realize that I'm lying in someone's lap. Spike. I just know. I can smell the leather of his jacket and the smoke that always kind of hangs in a cloud around him and the old mustiness of the back seat, a faint tang of liquor. And blood. Lots of blood.
My stomach does the vampire equivalent of a rumble.
Slowly, everything rushes back to me. Willow's spell, Spike's memory loss, me trying to make him remember, him almost killing me... and then really killing me.
My god. I'm dead.
Wicked.
Spike appears to be asleep. He looks drawn and pale, which I guess makes sense since he had to donate a lot of blood to me. Although I guess it was my blood anyway since he almost killed me. He loves me.
That later. I'm hungry.
Tossing my hair back, I gather my limbs and move quietly, gracefully, marveling at the way my muscles obey me so easily. I throw one leg over Spike and straddle him, tracing my fingertips gently down the side of his face, marveling at his beauty. He always looked so good when he was asleep. But only do I realize how perfect he is. He's fucking flawless.
His jacket slides against my bare leg, my short enough skirt ripped, and every touch, every sensation is amplified. I don't know why he wanted to hold me back from all this. I don't see the downside at all. I trace my fingertips over his lips gently, leaning in.
"Spike, love, time to wake up now."