Buffy is leaving. Again. She's running away. She doesn't want me any more. She's screaming
at Willow. Yelling at Xander and I know she's hit Spike once or twice. Tara and Anya are
sitting on the stairs pretending that nothing is happening.
I want to call Giles. I know he could make her stay. But I can't. I rock myself back and
forth listening to Spike's cursing and Willow's chanting. I want to scream, I want to tell
them to let her go.
She's Buffy, she's free and they can't stop her. They can't make her love me.
I hear Tara scream and Spike starts to curse even louder than before. Anya and Xander
are calling out to her but it's no use. I cover my ears with my hands. She's gone. My sister
is gone.
****
He punched three holes in the wall. Each one can swallow both of my small fists. I stand
and stare at them before he puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face
him. I wish the holes could swallow me up.
But they don't, they don't bring Buffy back. They just sit there, gaping reminders of the
night before. He doesn't want me to see them. to see how angry he was to be stuck with
me.
"She's not going to come back, is she?"
"I don't think so sweet pea,"
"Just you and me?"
"Always you and me."
I couldn't make her love me, I couldn't make her stay. What if he leaves me to?
****
I threw her picture against the wall. I hate her, I love her so much. The glass shatters in a
million pieces and I scramble to the floor to rescue her pretty face from the rubble. The
glass cuts my hands but I don't care. My blood is on her hands.
"Oh Nibblet."
It's only been two days but I'm used to him already. The way he moves, the way he speaks
softly to me as if his tone could break me. He can't break me, he couldn't break her. He
looks at my hands and growls softly. She wouldn't have growled at me.
"Dawn, why?"
"Don't call me that." I scream. I hate my name.
"Okay, little bit."
He walks me to the kitchen and washes the blood off my hands. I wonder if it made him
hungry. I wonder if Buffy is hungry.
****
"Get out Willow."
"Why? You don't belong here either!"
She's yelling at him. Like Buffy always yelled at him. I could never make Buffy stop. I only
have to cry and Willow will back off. But I'm not crying. I can't. He's holding his own. He's
in Willow's face and giving her what for.
She's to deep in the magic, he tells her. I wonder if that too is my fault. Did we push her
to fast when she was the only one who could stand against Glory? It doesn't matter. Tara
rubs circles in the small of my back while they break dishes in the kitchen.
Spike will clean it up. He'll put his large hands on my tiny, trembling shoulders and lead me
away. I wonder if he ever thinks of slipping out the door, or crushing the bones in my
shoulders. Do I hurt him? The way she hurt me?
****
"You should be in school." He whispers.
"You should be asleep." I answer.
He sighs. As if his breath will ease my pain. He doesn't love me any more than she did, he
isn't forcing me to do what I should. I wonder why I'm making him try. He could never be
her.
He doesn't even try.
"She isn't coming back, is she Spike?" It feels weird to say his name.
The tender breath of wind from his side of the couch. "No baby. She's not."
I jump every time the phone rings. He has to hold me at arm's length to keep me from
ripping the phone from him. He speaks into it and moves one hand over my hair.
"It's only Xander," he says.
I want to run away sometimes. It's gotta be better than waiting.
****
"You need to eat something." He's staring at me.
I stare back, willing him to tell me what I need to hear. "I'm not hungry."
"Blink, love." Blue orbs, crashing into mine. Like spinning out of control.
I'm hungry, just not for food. I want to feel loved, protected. Needed. He almost makes it
that way. His eyes moving into mine, seeing everything I strive to hide. Eyes begging me to
dream sweet dreams at night. I wonder if the nightmares will ever stop.
I blink, I lose. I reach for a cookie from the couch between us. When was the last time I
saw the sun? When was the last time he reached out and held me?
****
Almost a week. Almost there, almost ready to wake up in the morning and know she's really
gone. The first morning I didn't run into her room to see if she was there. This time I
pressed my cold hands to the small of his back and let him grab me as he woke from his
dead sleep.
"Baby." he whispered.
I closed my eyes, waiting for him to scold me. Tell me never to wake him like that. But it
never came. He folded his arms around me and held me close to him.
"Sweet, sweet baby."
He wanted to kill me. I saw it, it scared me. But it scared him more. He's sorry. He's
whispering. He's rocking me and the tears start flowing again. He's sorry. He's sorry for
everything she was supposed to be sorry for.
"I love you, I love you."
It's a simple thing, to be loved. It's a simple thing to be held. Maybe he'll let me tomorrow,
and the next day. It's been seven days. I'm used to him. His soft tone, as if I'll break. I'm
used to the pieces of him. The holes in the wall and the glass on the floor. I'm used to his
love. His big hands. The smell of him.
I'm so used to it that for a moment I didn't miss her. I didn't need to. I didn't need her. I
didn't notice the thin blond frame coming up the walk.
at Willow. Yelling at Xander and I know she's hit Spike once or twice. Tara and Anya are
sitting on the stairs pretending that nothing is happening.
I want to call Giles. I know he could make her stay. But I can't. I rock myself back and
forth listening to Spike's cursing and Willow's chanting. I want to scream, I want to tell
them to let her go.
She's Buffy, she's free and they can't stop her. They can't make her love me.
I hear Tara scream and Spike starts to curse even louder than before. Anya and Xander
are calling out to her but it's no use. I cover my ears with my hands. She's gone. My sister
is gone.
****
He punched three holes in the wall. Each one can swallow both of my small fists. I stand
and stare at them before he puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face
him. I wish the holes could swallow me up.
But they don't, they don't bring Buffy back. They just sit there, gaping reminders of the
night before. He doesn't want me to see them. to see how angry he was to be stuck with
me.
"She's not going to come back, is she?"
"I don't think so sweet pea,"
"Just you and me?"
"Always you and me."
I couldn't make her love me, I couldn't make her stay. What if he leaves me to?
****
I threw her picture against the wall. I hate her, I love her so much. The glass shatters in a
million pieces and I scramble to the floor to rescue her pretty face from the rubble. The
glass cuts my hands but I don't care. My blood is on her hands.
"Oh Nibblet."
It's only been two days but I'm used to him already. The way he moves, the way he speaks
softly to me as if his tone could break me. He can't break me, he couldn't break her. He
looks at my hands and growls softly. She wouldn't have growled at me.
"Dawn, why?"
"Don't call me that." I scream. I hate my name.
"Okay, little bit."
He walks me to the kitchen and washes the blood off my hands. I wonder if it made him
hungry. I wonder if Buffy is hungry.
****
"Get out Willow."
"Why? You don't belong here either!"
She's yelling at him. Like Buffy always yelled at him. I could never make Buffy stop. I only
have to cry and Willow will back off. But I'm not crying. I can't. He's holding his own. He's
in Willow's face and giving her what for.
She's to deep in the magic, he tells her. I wonder if that too is my fault. Did we push her
to fast when she was the only one who could stand against Glory? It doesn't matter. Tara
rubs circles in the small of my back while they break dishes in the kitchen.
Spike will clean it up. He'll put his large hands on my tiny, trembling shoulders and lead me
away. I wonder if he ever thinks of slipping out the door, or crushing the bones in my
shoulders. Do I hurt him? The way she hurt me?
****
"You should be in school." He whispers.
"You should be asleep." I answer.
He sighs. As if his breath will ease my pain. He doesn't love me any more than she did, he
isn't forcing me to do what I should. I wonder why I'm making him try. He could never be
her.
He doesn't even try.
"She isn't coming back, is she Spike?" It feels weird to say his name.
The tender breath of wind from his side of the couch. "No baby. She's not."
I jump every time the phone rings. He has to hold me at arm's length to keep me from
ripping the phone from him. He speaks into it and moves one hand over my hair.
"It's only Xander," he says.
I want to run away sometimes. It's gotta be better than waiting.
****
"You need to eat something." He's staring at me.
I stare back, willing him to tell me what I need to hear. "I'm not hungry."
"Blink, love." Blue orbs, crashing into mine. Like spinning out of control.
I'm hungry, just not for food. I want to feel loved, protected. Needed. He almost makes it
that way. His eyes moving into mine, seeing everything I strive to hide. Eyes begging me to
dream sweet dreams at night. I wonder if the nightmares will ever stop.
I blink, I lose. I reach for a cookie from the couch between us. When was the last time I
saw the sun? When was the last time he reached out and held me?
****
Almost a week. Almost there, almost ready to wake up in the morning and know she's really
gone. The first morning I didn't run into her room to see if she was there. This time I
pressed my cold hands to the small of his back and let him grab me as he woke from his
dead sleep.
"Baby." he whispered.
I closed my eyes, waiting for him to scold me. Tell me never to wake him like that. But it
never came. He folded his arms around me and held me close to him.
"Sweet, sweet baby."
He wanted to kill me. I saw it, it scared me. But it scared him more. He's sorry. He's
whispering. He's rocking me and the tears start flowing again. He's sorry. He's sorry for
everything she was supposed to be sorry for.
"I love you, I love you."
It's a simple thing, to be loved. It's a simple thing to be held. Maybe he'll let me tomorrow,
and the next day. It's been seven days. I'm used to him. His soft tone, as if I'll break. I'm
used to the pieces of him. The holes in the wall and the glass on the floor. I'm used to his
love. His big hands. The smell of him.
I'm so used to it that for a moment I didn't miss her. I didn't need to. I didn't need her. I
didn't notice the thin blond frame coming up the walk.