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Summary
"I don’t know how to help you, Spike. I don’t even know if I want to help you. But I think…I think maybe you can help me.”
Silly bint. Hadn’t she learned by now that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her? He’d swallow the sun and ask for seconds if she needed him to. He’d bled for her, burned for her, and he’d do it all again. He’d once told her that love was blood, screaming inside her to work its will. He’d believed it then. Mostly still believed it now, but it was more than that. More than flesh, more than blood. He knew she didn’t love him, couldn’t. Mustn’t ask. But she’d come to him because he’d seen her. He’d never really been alone, and she’d never been anything but.
He’d never known solitude until he’d felt hers. And he loved her for it. Untouchable, unbreakable girl. He'd done his worst. Maybe now he could do his best.
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Spike's POV of Season 7 COMPLETE
Reference to SA/Non-Con but no depictions.