Pain. He felt so much pain. When was the last that he felt pain like this? Not since he was slowly being a charcoal briquette from the inside out. His chest felt like hot pin needles were boring into it. His lungs were struggling for air which was perplexing cause he didn't breathe. His head was pounding and there was a rushing sound thrumming through his ears. He tried to open his eyes but they were glued shut. He tried to think of what he last remembered. His Mum. He had been dreaming of her. Just a dream though and before that... There was.. Angel. And being a ghost stuck in damn L. A. and... The little red witch and that damn blasted amulet...Fuck...
He struggled harder and slowly managed to open his eyes. He was in some sort of cave. Surly he'd been in enough of them to recognize his surroundings, blurry vision or not. He managed to stagger to his feet, noticing he was dressed in only a loose white shirt and cotton trousers. His head was still throbbing as he managed to stumble across the room.

He noticed a wine glass filled with a thick ruby liquid he recognized as blood. 'Ah sweet ambrosia', he thought.

A good cuppa would fix him right up. He took a deep drink.

And promptly spewed the contents all over the room.

Spike was horrified. He never tasted anything so fowl, so vial in his life. As soon as the stuff passed his lips, his body violently rejected the exposure. Now on top of being dizzy and confused and having the mother of all migraines; he was ill and retching up his meal. He managed to stumble over to a sink on the far wall. Quickly, he flushed his mouth out; mumbling curses and wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. While spitting out the last of lunch, his eyes flick up to meet a matching set of blue in the mirror fragment above.
It took him a few moment to realize that the screams he heard were his own.





You must login (register) to review.