DISCLAIMER: JOSS owns all rights regarding all Buffy characters. Sara
McLachlan owns all rights regarding Possession and it's lyrics. I own
nothing but an overactive imagination and an undeniable need to share my
crazy thoughts with others.
**Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide, Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time,**
She wasn't sure why she had come back. Back to the collapsed building. Back to the swirling dust and biting sun that whispered of his death. Buffy stood looking into the destruction below her. Some memorial.
"Out with a bang," she said dryly, "You would have wanted that."
Then she laughed. It was a hollow sound rattling in the back of her throat. The chuckle shuddered into silence as she frowned. Even now she laughed at him. Even after this, she treated him like a joke.
More than a thing, less than a man. Wasn't that what he always was to her?
A wave of nausea made her stumble, sending her trembling hand to cover her mouth. Her salty palm pressed into her lips, holding back the mewling whimper that threatened to cry out into the quiet.
"No you don't, but thanks for saying it," his voice echoed in her mind. And he was right, wasn't he? She hadn't loved him. She just couldn't. Buffy forced a quick nod, to accept what she knew just had to be the truth. No matter how horribly her heart ached in disagreement.
There was too much pain between them. Too many bad memories. Spike was a creature of the night. Even with his soul, there was darkness in him. There was darkness in her, too, but unlike her, he wasn't afraid of his. What they had together was chemistry and history, not love. And now it didn't matter.
Still, her stomach twisted in knots as she stared at where he had been. Still, the feel of his cold skin burned on her fingertips and the memory of his eyes haunted her mind. And still, her eyes spilled over with hot tears, tears that dripped from her chin to spiral silently downward to his grave.
He was really gone this time.
Silently, Buffy lowered her hand and closed her eyes, accepting the pain that she had so tightly furled within her since that day. She pictured him in her mind, his arrogant smirk laced over gentle eyes. God, she missed him. Darkness and all. And then she said the only thing she could, the only thing she felt would make any sense for him at all.
"One of us is living..."
**Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide, Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time,**
She wasn't sure why she had come back. Back to the collapsed building. Back to the swirling dust and biting sun that whispered of his death. Buffy stood looking into the destruction below her. Some memorial.
"Out with a bang," she said dryly, "You would have wanted that."
Then she laughed. It was a hollow sound rattling in the back of her throat. The chuckle shuddered into silence as she frowned. Even now she laughed at him. Even after this, she treated him like a joke.
More than a thing, less than a man. Wasn't that what he always was to her?
A wave of nausea made her stumble, sending her trembling hand to cover her mouth. Her salty palm pressed into her lips, holding back the mewling whimper that threatened to cry out into the quiet.
"No you don't, but thanks for saying it," his voice echoed in her mind. And he was right, wasn't he? She hadn't loved him. She just couldn't. Buffy forced a quick nod, to accept what she knew just had to be the truth. No matter how horribly her heart ached in disagreement.
There was too much pain between them. Too many bad memories. Spike was a creature of the night. Even with his soul, there was darkness in him. There was darkness in her, too, but unlike her, he wasn't afraid of his. What they had together was chemistry and history, not love. And now it didn't matter.
Still, her stomach twisted in knots as she stared at where he had been. Still, the feel of his cold skin burned on her fingertips and the memory of his eyes haunted her mind. And still, her eyes spilled over with hot tears, tears that dripped from her chin to spiral silently downward to his grave.
He was really gone this time.
Silently, Buffy lowered her hand and closed her eyes, accepting the pain that she had so tightly furled within her since that day. She pictured him in her mind, his arrogant smirk laced over gentle eyes. God, she missed him. Darkness and all. And then she said the only thing she could, the only thing she felt would make any sense for him at all.
"One of us is living..."