[The moment they separate her from Spike, it's like the last of her strength is drained from her. In the time thereafter, Myri stops trying to keep track of the hours, doesn't bother trying to remember how many days it's been. The pain is unbearable. They learn just what hurts the most, how to make her body and soul both scream with need to heal. It's the prolonged exposure that does the worst. She fights against it with strength her body doesn't truly have, throws herself against whatever restraints they put her in. She wants to help these people, these poor prisoners that are being hurt because of her.
None of it compares to when they bring her in to see Spike. He's not living, can't be healed, so her powers don't call to him as they do to other creatures. The pain here has nothing to do with an empathic gift and everything to do with her heart breaking that she's somehow played a part in this, that it was a doppleganger wearing her skin that trapped him here. She cries until her body isn't sure how to do that anymore, leaving her quiet on the floor of her cell for any amount of time that they'll leave her there. She imagines she will die here, and that maybe if does, somehow they'll let Spike go, then. Above everything else, one thought remains.
no subject
None of it compares to when they bring her in to see Spike. He's not living, can't be healed, so her powers don't call to him as they do to other creatures. The pain here has nothing to do with an empathic gift and everything to do with her heart breaking that she's somehow played a part in this, that it was a doppleganger wearing her skin that trapped him here. She cries until her body isn't sure how to do that anymore, leaving her quiet on the floor of her cell for any amount of time that they'll leave her there. She imagines she will die here, and that maybe if does, somehow they'll let Spike go, then. Above everything else, one thought remains.
It's hopeless.]