Title: Haunted
By: rainyday
Rating: PG-13 (some language, maybe)
Feedback: would be lovely!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the one & only Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, etc. Don't sue me, cause I ain't got no money.
Distribution: You want it? It's yours, just let me know where.
Summary: Buffy thinking, right after Warren jetpacks away in "Seeing Red"
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The house is dark as I walk up towards it. It's late, and everyone is asleep. I am tired, so tired, from this long night of fighting. I am beaten in so many ways, and I know that once I get inside, put on my comfy pajamas and get in my comfy bed, I will be anything but comfortable. I know that I won't be able to sleep. I think that I will never be able to sleep again.
I push open the front door and enter as silently as I can. For everyone else, this has been a good day. Tara and Willow back together and so happy they seem to float with it, and Dawn, equally happy for them. I am too, but happiness is something I don't feel much like dwelling on right now. I creep up the stairs like a ghost, so as not to wake them. I feel that my presence right now can only ruin their happiness, and I'd like to not be the cause of heartbreak and misery, for a change. Passing the bathroom with a grimace, I resolutely vow not to think about it. Can't, can't think about that right now. Denial Buffy making a triumphant return. Opening the door to my room is a relief almost. The sense of peace I usually find here is fleeting. This is my inner sanctum, and suddenly the whole house feels like a tomb.
Sure enough, once sushi pajamas are on, and the comforter pulled up to my chin, sleep refuses to come, even though I am tired to my very soul. And no surprise, my resolve weakens and I think about him. I think he is in my thoughts more than anyone or anything ever, even Angel. I always resolve not to think about him, swear to myself that this time I will push him out of my mind and mean it. But I fail every time, and tonight is no exception.
Thinking back to those desperate minutes in the bathroom, I am haunted by the look in his eyes. Madness, desperation, anguish, loneliness, anger, and fear, swirling like an emotional kaleidoscope. Hatred, and love in equal amounts in those crazed eyes. His body, all hard muscles and soft skin, moving from the slow, easy grace of a lover, to the ferocious prowl of a predator. He had never seemed so soulless to me. Not because of his actions, but because, underneath all those churning emotions, I saw a black pit of endless emptiness. An emptiness that terrified me because it's the same emptiness I have felt everyday since I've come back from the grave. An emptiness that I fear I caused.
I wonder if he could even hear me, see me, during those minutes that stretched on forever. I know he knew afterwards, after I kicked him off. My fear, my anger, my pain. Those things he could see. But the betrayal? Could he see that? Cause that's the part that hurts the most. Despite everything I've told him, I did trust him. I trusted him in ways I've never trusted anyone else. I think that I could forgive him the almost violation of my body, but the violation of my trust? I don't know that I will be able to forgive him that.
I turn over and feel the tears begin to come. It's funny how hard it's been for me to cry since coming back, except for him. I have cried rivers and oceans, and countless bodies of waters in between, for him. I allow myself to cry now, because there won't be time tomorrow. The worst part about being the Slayer, I've decided, is that there is so much to grieve for, and never enough time to do it. I haven't been able to grieve properly for years. For Riley, for Mom, and now, for Spike, A few short hours are all I get, because when the sun comes up, I will have to seek out Warren and stop him before he hurts someone else. My sacred duty like a gun to the head. You don't get time-outs and you don't get do-overs, Slayer.
And after Warren, I'll have to seek him out. Not to talk in the way he always wants, never that, as that way lies emotional vulnerability, culpability, responsibility and probably some other ilities that I can't open myself up to. I don't know what I'll say to him. Will I tell him to never come near me or Dawn or the rest of the gang, again? Will I take it one step farther and tell him to leave Sunnydale forever? Will I take it further still and push some wooden pointy straight through his unbeating heart? I could call it retribution or mercy, and no one would probably ask anyway. But honestly, could I? Could I do any of those things and not lose some part of me in the process? That is the real reason I wouldn't let Xander hurt him outside the Magic Box or after it. And that is something that Xander would never understand. Because like it or not, some part of me belongs to Spike, and he belongs to me. He is mine. Mine to scorn, mine to hate, mine to love, and mine to kill.