Hope or anything resembling the sentiment had faded within him, leaving a
void of empty emotions that swirled around the hollow shell of his heart.
The world had proven him a fool once more.
The events that had taken place in the last few hours had been set on repeat in his mind and would continue to haunt him from then on. It was his fault. Anya would not have been there if not for him. He had killed her. No, somewhere in the back of his head he knew this was not true. That Anya had been there on her own and made her own decisions. But that small voice was met with deaf ears filled with sorrow, remorse, and over-whelming guilt. He had killed her.
His form had sat prone upon the somewhat comfortable confines of the bus seat, although at the moment. Everything felt the same. Everything felt like nothing. Numb. Possibly. Until now, he realized he never really knew what being numb meant..what it felt like. Felt like nothing. He rather liked the feeling of not being able to feel. To just shut off inside and not ever face the pain. However, it would come, eventually, the emotionless facade would fall and he would be a sobbing shell of what he once was. But numb for now. His shaded orbs held steady, peering out the dirty window towards the scape that passed them by at a mild speed. Everything felt like nothing.
They had been traveling for about two hours now, heard they were heading towards L.A before he slipped into his state of catatonia. Figures, that would be Buffy's plan. Now that Sunnydale was gone, she had no reason not to run into the arms of her ex-undead lover. Well. . .one of them anyway.
And speak of the slayer, he could feel her eyes on him, watching him in her same searching manner. He knew he was in for the famous I am sorry, let me be your crying shoulder speech. He didn't want to cry 'cause he knew if one tear escaped, the floodgates would open. And it was to the best of his knowledge that breaking down in the small confines of a bus surround by others was not the greatest thing to do. He liked feeling nothing.
He could faintly make out the grasp of her hand on his left shoulder, almost strong enough to melt the ice from his heart but all in the same not nearly strong enough to save him. His breathes came out in a labored form as he finally tore his deepened gaze from the window frame and shifted it onto the lithe being of a blond so beautiful and everything he could ever want that he had followed at her side for the last seven years. He thought he had gotten over her but love like that doesn't die out. No, he wasn't that lucky.
In the background, he could see the forms of the people closest to him. Willow, who was currently sleeping on the shoulder of her new love, Kennedy. Giles, who was minding the road with Dawn at his side. Faith and - well Faith and Wood were not really that close to him but they were still Scooby's now. Andrew. He wasn't sure if he hated the little bastard or it was just the grief but he wanted nothing to do with him.
' Hey '
By the tone of her voice he could tell she understood. Well, as best as she could.
' Hey '
His voice sounded unfamiliar to himself. It was abit raspy in it's state of monotone.
' How are you doing? '
' Oh you know me, ready for some sight seeing. Always wanted to see the white house in a one eye-prospective. '
He fixed the position of the eye patch as he let a weak smile tug at the corners of his tiers, lifting them upwards. Okay, it was a lame joke but he felt like they needed some normalcy. He just wasn't sure who needed it more.
' Yeah- Listen Xan. I know your hurting right now but everything is going to be all right. I know it will be. '
And with that, she took a seat next to him and wrapped him into the biggest bear hug he had ever received. It was her way of comforting him. It was wonderful. He knew he was scum for feeling wonderful mere hours after Anya's death. But he couldn't help it 'cause he couldn't feel anything less in Buffy's arms. So much for feeling nothing.
The events that had taken place in the last few hours had been set on repeat in his mind and would continue to haunt him from then on. It was his fault. Anya would not have been there if not for him. He had killed her. No, somewhere in the back of his head he knew this was not true. That Anya had been there on her own and made her own decisions. But that small voice was met with deaf ears filled with sorrow, remorse, and over-whelming guilt. He had killed her.
His form had sat prone upon the somewhat comfortable confines of the bus seat, although at the moment. Everything felt the same. Everything felt like nothing. Numb. Possibly. Until now, he realized he never really knew what being numb meant..what it felt like. Felt like nothing. He rather liked the feeling of not being able to feel. To just shut off inside and not ever face the pain. However, it would come, eventually, the emotionless facade would fall and he would be a sobbing shell of what he once was. But numb for now. His shaded orbs held steady, peering out the dirty window towards the scape that passed them by at a mild speed. Everything felt like nothing.
They had been traveling for about two hours now, heard they were heading towards L.A before he slipped into his state of catatonia. Figures, that would be Buffy's plan. Now that Sunnydale was gone, she had no reason not to run into the arms of her ex-undead lover. Well. . .one of them anyway.
And speak of the slayer, he could feel her eyes on him, watching him in her same searching manner. He knew he was in for the famous I am sorry, let me be your crying shoulder speech. He didn't want to cry 'cause he knew if one tear escaped, the floodgates would open. And it was to the best of his knowledge that breaking down in the small confines of a bus surround by others was not the greatest thing to do. He liked feeling nothing.
He could faintly make out the grasp of her hand on his left shoulder, almost strong enough to melt the ice from his heart but all in the same not nearly strong enough to save him. His breathes came out in a labored form as he finally tore his deepened gaze from the window frame and shifted it onto the lithe being of a blond so beautiful and everything he could ever want that he had followed at her side for the last seven years. He thought he had gotten over her but love like that doesn't die out. No, he wasn't that lucky.
In the background, he could see the forms of the people closest to him. Willow, who was currently sleeping on the shoulder of her new love, Kennedy. Giles, who was minding the road with Dawn at his side. Faith and - well Faith and Wood were not really that close to him but they were still Scooby's now. Andrew. He wasn't sure if he hated the little bastard or it was just the grief but he wanted nothing to do with him.
' Hey '
By the tone of her voice he could tell she understood. Well, as best as she could.
' Hey '
His voice sounded unfamiliar to himself. It was abit raspy in it's state of monotone.
' How are you doing? '
' Oh you know me, ready for some sight seeing. Always wanted to see the white house in a one eye-prospective. '
He fixed the position of the eye patch as he let a weak smile tug at the corners of his tiers, lifting them upwards. Okay, it was a lame joke but he felt like they needed some normalcy. He just wasn't sure who needed it more.
' Yeah- Listen Xan. I know your hurting right now but everything is going to be all right. I know it will be. '
And with that, she took a seat next to him and wrapped him into the biggest bear hug he had ever received. It was her way of comforting him. It was wonderful. He knew he was scum for feeling wonderful mere hours after Anya's death. But he couldn't help it 'cause he couldn't feel anything less in Buffy's arms. So much for feeling nothing.