Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, and don't pretend that any
of this material is mine. They belong to Joss Wheadon, the WB and UPN (at
different points of existence) I'm just borrowing them for some fun.
Summary: Spike POV…set at the beginning of "After Life"…way at the beginning of the season I know. But that scene haunts me…and Spike too ;)
Her eyes
For a creature who couldn't breathe, I was way too out of breath. I could kill her. Running off like that. If Dawn wasn't back at the house, I don't know what I'd do. If she was there, I swear I'd kill her.
I flung the door open, "Dawn! Dawn are you there?"
I could hear her mumbling, she was talking to someone, "I'm here!" she finally answered me, emerging from the hallway.
"Thank God!" I slammed the door, "Scared me half to death, or…more to death. You- I could kill you."
She looked a little pale, but I was still too angry, "Spike," she said quietly.
"I mean it. I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brain-stem."
She remained still though, "Look."
I glanced up at the figure walking down behind her. Damn. It was that bloody robot, "Yeah, I've seen the bloody bot before. Didn't think she'd patch up s--"
I froze as I stared…Her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, drowning in darkness and sorrow. It was her. It was Buffy. She stared back into mine, the grayed irises speaking volumes to me, telling me, reminding me of all too familiar memories.
Dawn was talking but I couldn't hear her. Her eyes just kept searching, calling out in pain. I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. I just stared until she broke the spell and looked away.
"Spike?" Dawn asked, "Are you okay?"
I kept staring, "I…" No! I wasn't bloody OKAY! Buffy, Slayer, the woman who had haunted me even before she gave up her life. The one who turned my world upside down when she lived and all but ended when she died…she died. And now she stood before me, the same beautiful shell of a body, a confused, vulnerable, tragic creature trapped inside. "What did you do?" I asked Dawn, still looking at the Slayer.
"Me?" she said, "nothing!"
I brought myself to leave her gaze and noticed the cuts and blood on her knuckles. How in the-- oh Holy Hell!
"Her hands," I said steadily, trying to contain my rising anger, figuring out all too fast why and how it happened.
"I was gonna fix 'em," Dawn said, "I don't know how they got like that."
"I do," I said staring at the familiar arrangement of cuts. Bloody fools. I was ready to murder Willow. They brought her back. Those damned witches brought her back to life…right where they left her. "Clawed her way out of her coffin that's how. Isn't that right?"
She looked at me, almost embarrassed. "Yes," she whispered, the sound of her voice filling my un-beating heart with anguish. "It's what I had to do."
"I've done it myself," I offered, looking back to those eyes that so eerily reflected my own. I tried to smile, tried to give her anything to reach out to. But those ghostly eyes remained dazed and full of misery. "Um, we'll take care of you," I said reaching to guide her down the rest of the stairs, "Come here."
Buffy flinched and I pulled back, "Get some stuff," I turned to Dawn as we walked to the living room, "Ointment and bandages."
"Okay," she rushed off.
I turned back to Buffy who was sitting down on the couch. I sat in front of her and took her hands as gently as I could, examining the cuts more closely. I could feel her looking at me, and I met her gaze. "How long was I gone?" she asked.
I didn't hesitate, "147 days yesterday," I stated. I knew exactly how long she'd been gone…exactly how long my entire un-life has been empty, "148 today. Except today doesn't count it?" I added with a small laugh. She looked down, as did I, momentarily unable to sustain the gaze. "How long was it for you, where you were?"
She looked up at me once more, her eyes suddenly filled with recognition, almost relief, relief to know that someone understood that she had been…somewhere else. "Longer," she whispered.
I nodded. I knew. Wherever she'd been, it was nothing like this physical, restricting world. She'd probably been through hell, literally, but even so, nothing was more disorienting or frightening than resurrection…I looked back at the cuts…nothing was more painful either. God I wanted to hold those hands forever. Protectively, gently until they healed, until her soul healed.
"Is she here?" the door burst open. The bloody scoobies had arrived, my trance and understanding with the Slayer abruptly ended.
"Buffy, are you ok?" Willow asked.
I couldn't sit here. I couldn't be here during this. I didn't need this. Buffy didn't need this either. I looked back at her once more, but I was no longer her focus. Without a word I stalked out of the house leaving the wretched, betraying gang behind. They didn't tell me. They didn't even tell me. Why the hell didn't they tell me-- Oh my God.
I took out a cigarette and lit it, but I didn't feel like smoking. I threw it on the ground immediately and paced in front of the house until I couldn't even bear being there anymore. I started to walk away, but I couldn't. I found my spot by the tree and stood, grinding my hands in tight fists as I tried to shake those haunting eyes from my mind. I banged my head against the tree as if that would help.
"Spike?"
It was Harris. Damned traitor. Just leave me alone. Just this once.
"What are you doin' over there. Hope you're not gonna start your little obsession now that she's here."
I wasn't gonna stand for this. I didn't care what it did to that sodded chip in my head. I grabbed Xander by the coat and slammed him against the tree. My head started pounding, but I was too angry to notice.
"You didn't tell me. You brought her back and you didn't tell me."
"Well now you know," he answered. Damn wanker, still trying to be flippant. But it wouldn't work. Not this time.
"I worked beside you. All summer!"
"Look, we didn't tell you be-…we just didn't ok?"
I started to laugh, "You know what? It's ok. I've figured it out." I let go of him and pointed to the house, "Willow knew there was a chance that she'd come back WRONG!" Xander's started looking scared. Good, ignorant fool. He needed to be scared right now. "So wrong that you would-- " I couldn't even bring myself to admit it, "That she would have to get rid of whatever came back…and I wouldn't let her. Any part of that was Buffy, I wouldn't let her. And that's why she shut me out."
"What are you talking about?" he feebly defended. "Willow wouldn't do that."
I just scoffed and rolled me eyes.
"Look you're just covering," he challenged, "Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes and tell me that when you saw her alive, it wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence."
I glared at him without saying a word. I almost answered him, but I jerked myself away. Yeah, it was the happiest moment in my existence Xander…and the worst.
"That's the problem with doing magic," I yelled, hopping on my motorcycle, "there are always consequences." I revved the engine and sped off, not looking back, "Always!"
Summary: Spike POV…set at the beginning of "After Life"…way at the beginning of the season I know. But that scene haunts me…and Spike too ;)
Her eyes
For a creature who couldn't breathe, I was way too out of breath. I could kill her. Running off like that. If Dawn wasn't back at the house, I don't know what I'd do. If she was there, I swear I'd kill her.
I flung the door open, "Dawn! Dawn are you there?"
I could hear her mumbling, she was talking to someone, "I'm here!" she finally answered me, emerging from the hallway.
"Thank God!" I slammed the door, "Scared me half to death, or…more to death. You- I could kill you."
She looked a little pale, but I was still too angry, "Spike," she said quietly.
"I mean it. I could rip your head off one-handed and drink from your brain-stem."
She remained still though, "Look."
I glanced up at the figure walking down behind her. Damn. It was that bloody robot, "Yeah, I've seen the bloody bot before. Didn't think she'd patch up s--"
I froze as I stared…Her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, drowning in darkness and sorrow. It was her. It was Buffy. She stared back into mine, the grayed irises speaking volumes to me, telling me, reminding me of all too familiar memories.
Dawn was talking but I couldn't hear her. Her eyes just kept searching, calling out in pain. I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. I just stared until she broke the spell and looked away.
"Spike?" Dawn asked, "Are you okay?"
I kept staring, "I…" No! I wasn't bloody OKAY! Buffy, Slayer, the woman who had haunted me even before she gave up her life. The one who turned my world upside down when she lived and all but ended when she died…she died. And now she stood before me, the same beautiful shell of a body, a confused, vulnerable, tragic creature trapped inside. "What did you do?" I asked Dawn, still looking at the Slayer.
"Me?" she said, "nothing!"
I brought myself to leave her gaze and noticed the cuts and blood on her knuckles. How in the-- oh Holy Hell!
"Her hands," I said steadily, trying to contain my rising anger, figuring out all too fast why and how it happened.
"I was gonna fix 'em," Dawn said, "I don't know how they got like that."
"I do," I said staring at the familiar arrangement of cuts. Bloody fools. I was ready to murder Willow. They brought her back. Those damned witches brought her back to life…right where they left her. "Clawed her way out of her coffin that's how. Isn't that right?"
She looked at me, almost embarrassed. "Yes," she whispered, the sound of her voice filling my un-beating heart with anguish. "It's what I had to do."
"I've done it myself," I offered, looking back to those eyes that so eerily reflected my own. I tried to smile, tried to give her anything to reach out to. But those ghostly eyes remained dazed and full of misery. "Um, we'll take care of you," I said reaching to guide her down the rest of the stairs, "Come here."
Buffy flinched and I pulled back, "Get some stuff," I turned to Dawn as we walked to the living room, "Ointment and bandages."
"Okay," she rushed off.
I turned back to Buffy who was sitting down on the couch. I sat in front of her and took her hands as gently as I could, examining the cuts more closely. I could feel her looking at me, and I met her gaze. "How long was I gone?" she asked.
I didn't hesitate, "147 days yesterday," I stated. I knew exactly how long she'd been gone…exactly how long my entire un-life has been empty, "148 today. Except today doesn't count it?" I added with a small laugh. She looked down, as did I, momentarily unable to sustain the gaze. "How long was it for you, where you were?"
She looked up at me once more, her eyes suddenly filled with recognition, almost relief, relief to know that someone understood that she had been…somewhere else. "Longer," she whispered.
I nodded. I knew. Wherever she'd been, it was nothing like this physical, restricting world. She'd probably been through hell, literally, but even so, nothing was more disorienting or frightening than resurrection…I looked back at the cuts…nothing was more painful either. God I wanted to hold those hands forever. Protectively, gently until they healed, until her soul healed.
"Is she here?" the door burst open. The bloody scoobies had arrived, my trance and understanding with the Slayer abruptly ended.
"Buffy, are you ok?" Willow asked.
I couldn't sit here. I couldn't be here during this. I didn't need this. Buffy didn't need this either. I looked back at her once more, but I was no longer her focus. Without a word I stalked out of the house leaving the wretched, betraying gang behind. They didn't tell me. They didn't even tell me. Why the hell didn't they tell me-- Oh my God.
I took out a cigarette and lit it, but I didn't feel like smoking. I threw it on the ground immediately and paced in front of the house until I couldn't even bear being there anymore. I started to walk away, but I couldn't. I found my spot by the tree and stood, grinding my hands in tight fists as I tried to shake those haunting eyes from my mind. I banged my head against the tree as if that would help.
"Spike?"
It was Harris. Damned traitor. Just leave me alone. Just this once.
"What are you doin' over there. Hope you're not gonna start your little obsession now that she's here."
I wasn't gonna stand for this. I didn't care what it did to that sodded chip in my head. I grabbed Xander by the coat and slammed him against the tree. My head started pounding, but I was too angry to notice.
"You didn't tell me. You brought her back and you didn't tell me."
"Well now you know," he answered. Damn wanker, still trying to be flippant. But it wouldn't work. Not this time.
"I worked beside you. All summer!"
"Look, we didn't tell you be-…we just didn't ok?"
I started to laugh, "You know what? It's ok. I've figured it out." I let go of him and pointed to the house, "Willow knew there was a chance that she'd come back WRONG!" Xander's started looking scared. Good, ignorant fool. He needed to be scared right now. "So wrong that you would-- " I couldn't even bring myself to admit it, "That she would have to get rid of whatever came back…and I wouldn't let her. Any part of that was Buffy, I wouldn't let her. And that's why she shut me out."
"What are you talking about?" he feebly defended. "Willow wouldn't do that."
I just scoffed and rolled me eyes.
"Look you're just covering," he challenged, "Don't tell me you're not happy. Look me in the eyes and tell me that when you saw her alive, it wasn't the happiest moment of your entire existence."
I glared at him without saying a word. I almost answered him, but I jerked myself away. Yeah, it was the happiest moment in my existence Xander…and the worst.
"That's the problem with doing magic," I yelled, hopping on my motorcycle, "there are always consequences." I revved the engine and sped off, not looking back, "Always!"