The Spark

He laughed, a desperate sound, harsh and hollow. Why did the spark burn? Burned so brightly it hurt, he needed to dig it out, must get it out.

Laughing, crying, begging, bleeding, make the pain go away.

Solace found in the arms of the sun. He ran to her, always chasing, always following. His love, his light, his Buffy.

Love, devotion, mustn’t hurt the girl. But he had.

The world was harsh, the light shone, he was darkness, he must save the girl.

The sparks hurt, the light hurts; she didn’t want to be here. He would save her, comfort her into the night.

He kissed her, caressed her as she fought. She loved him, even with the spark but she didn’t understand.

He had to save her, but he couldn’t. Not with his spark, not with her own.

Blood pumping out, draining her resistance; losing the spark, pain fades.

She would arise, his light; protected for another day.