I was flying. I was flying on the stars. I looked down at poor Spike, on the ground, so far away. He couldn't fly. He didn't want to fly.
I came back to the ground, and threw myself down on the earth. Spikey made some complaint about how I would muddy my dress, but I paid no attention. He was so silly. I rolled over to see the moon. She was smiling.
My Spike was sitting next to me. I could smell the sweet blood of his last kill on him. He couldn't smell it. He didn't know how sweet it really was. Oh well.
The moon was singing, and I hummed along with her, swaying back and forth. When the wind picked me up, my Spike didn't do anything. He just watched, frowning. I smiled at him when the wind put me down.
But now the stars have stopped singing. My Spike is gone. The ashes on the ground remind me of a delicate china rose that Spike once gave me. But Daddy smashed it, and I was very sad.
Spike is swept up by the wind, and I smile. He is finally flying on the stars.