STILL FALLS THE RAIN
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, Joss does.
SUMMARY: Randomness by someone who's read the spoilers
for "The Gift" but hasn't seen it yet. Spike-thoughts
post-"The Gift".
PAIRINGS: B/S, A/S.
RATING: PG-13. Darkfic.
ARCHIVE: Not without permission.
FEEDBACK: Love it, thanks - vhayrabediany...

INSPIRED BY:
Still falls the Rain --
Dark as the world of man, black as our loss --
Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails
Upon the Cross.

(Edith Sitwell) 1887-1964
"The Raids 1940" - "Still Falls the Rain"

They crucified me.

That's what you wanted to hear, wasn't it? You don't
want to know about her, or about what we did, or
about what we stopped. You want to know about
afterwards. About what happened when those we
protected caught up with us.

Willow they burned. Or, tried to. Her and Tara got
away, I think. I haven't seen them since, so they
either hid real well or... or they didn't. Either way,
there's going to be nothing for a very long while.

I don't know what happened to the others. Angelus
found me and said that... he said that Giles was back
in England, which I suppose is good news. He said that
Dawnie had found her way to L.A. and that she was with
Cordelia until I healed. Which, incidentally, I had to
do underground.

Oh, that wasn't fun. Do you know how much I hate being
buried? How I truly loathe it? The first time I was
dead, and waking up underneath six feet of earth...
frightening. I could feel the grass roots above me,
and that scared me more than anything else. Made me
think I wasn't getting out. Made me think this was it.

The second time Angel was right there, burying me
again. Covering me in earth. Heaping it over me,
without even a coffin. He barely paused to tear his
arm open so at least I could drink a little. It wasn't
safe on the surface for me, he said. Not for a long
while.

He said the world had gone mad.

Like I hadn't figured that out when the mob appeared.

Oh, Glory did her job well. No Hell materialised, but
the mobs scared by all those demons and bright lights
went insane. The 'forgetfulness' spell or whatever
that had worked so well for Sunnyhell was gone with
one really big fireworks display. No more denial. Mob
rule was here to stay, and guess who they headed for?
That's right, the group o' mooks still hanging around
a dead body right in the middle of the big flashing
lights.

I don't know what they did to Buffy's body. I don't
want to know. I've done some pretty horrible things
in my time, but usually I stop after the person's
dead. Not much fun if they're not screaming or
whimpering or whatever, you know?

Not this. This was... unholy.

The last thing I saw right before they brought out a
big fuck-off cross was them, hoisting up her body
for... something. I don't know what it was. I don't
want to know.

I can't even remember the crucifixion, isn't that
weird? You'd think I would. I remember everything that
wanker Angelus did to me over a hundred years ago, but
I don't remember that. I don't remember them driving
stakes through my hands and my feet, impaling me on a
cross. I don't remember beginning to burn. I don't
remember screaming.

I don't remember who tore me down.

My hands are almost healed now. I still can't walk -
the feet have some way to go. Can't really get around
'cause I can't even use a bloody wheelchair anymore,
but I don't need to here. I get blood and I get telly
and I get to stare at nothingness for hours. Some
might even call it fun.

I think I might get scars. Small circular things on my
hands and my feet to match the one in my side. Missed
the heart by inches, damn whoever decided that. Not
that someone did. I'm not entirely clear on how this
all works. I'm not entirely clear on why I'm alive.
Alive, undead, you know what I mean.

Angel keeps promising that he'll bring Dawn to see me
soon. He keeps promising that the blood he gives me is
human. I can tell on both accounts that he's lying.
Pig's blood is pig's blood - scraps and crumbs from
the meal. I won't heal from it. But he can't bring me
human blood. He can't bring me the blood of the humans
who did this. And he knows I'll go after them. That's
why I haven't seen Dawn yet. She's already seen
enough.

Angelus says she saw them impale me. He says she tried
to get to me and was almost crushed to death. He says
he found her on his doorstep, huddled against the
doorframe, crying. He says she'd been armed with a
knife.

I don't want to know where she found the knife from. I
don't want to know why the knife had blood on it. I
don't want to know anything. I don't want to see her.

I don't want her to see me.

See me as I am - see me be helpless again. See me lie
in bed, or a chair, or whatever they choose to put me
in, moving me ever so carefully. See the scar on
Angel's arm from the constant infusions. See the dirt
in my clothes from the earth. See me fight them off
whenever they try to strip me. I'm not leaving these
clothes behind. I'm not leaving this blood behind.
Some of their blood is on me, somewhere. Dawnie's,
and Buffy's. Some mixed with mine when they tore me
open in so many places. I'm not letting that go. I
can't even remember it - I can't remember anything.
The rest are gone, probably dead. I don't know that
either. I know so little, and I can't let someone else
remember my life for me. I can't let someone else
remember her death for me. I owe her that much.

My head has a crown on it from the nails hammered in.
My hands have the marks of Christ. I died on a cross
too; and you wonder why I'm crazy?

Come on, Buffy. Come on, pet. Wake up and tell me I'm
crazy. Tell me I dreamed it all. My dreams have been
so strange lately that I would probably believe you. I
dream of many things... churches and bells and oranges
and lemons... how does that go again? My mum used to
sing that for me when I was little... I don't remember
that very well either. I used to remember the church
bells of my dreams. I need to remember Dawn. I need to
remember... I forget who. Hmmm. Can't have been that
important.

I remember it rained, after. Washed me clean, more or
less. It all drained into the ground... still
something in me, on me, around me, though. It has to
be. Despite the rain. Who trusts it, anyway? I prayed,
I really did. I prayed, God, and you didn't answer.
Was that because we killed you? Was Glory really it?
Is that it? Are we done? We killed all the evil, and
God was one of those and she's gone and there's
nothing left to stop anyone...

The mobs rule Sunnydale. General quarantine, the telly
says. I'm not surprised. Something horrible happened
there. I'll remember it soon. I'll need to get out of
these clothes eventually; I'll have to ask someone to
write it all down for me. I'd hate to forget.

My feet hurt. I don't remember why, exactly, but I'm
sure it'll come back to me. I've lost someone, I know
that. I've lost a great many someone's... I'll need to
find at least one of them. Dawn. I have to find
dawn... That helps. See, I remember. And as for
looking - easy. My feet and hands will heal. And at
least I have a name to start with. At least I have
something to look for.

Oh, look.

It's raining.

fin