Sorry
"When I looked at you, draped over the cross, hugging it… the smoke was rising from your body… I never cried for someone else, you know. I don't even know if I was crying for you in the church. I couldn't have been crying for myself. My life was back in order, even though my sister now goes to school over the Hellmouth. And if I wasn't crying for myself; it must've been for you. I don't know. But I do know that I would have done something horrible to you if no one had come in after me. I felt such a rage rise inside of me… it wasn't fit for a rational creature. You and I were both lucky Anya teleported to the church to give me a piece of her mind.
Seeing her made me come back to myself. I was no longer frozen with silent tears running down my face. I could move again, and I did. I tore you away from the cross and I threw you right across the church. I was shocked and angry and sad and a thousand other things all at the same time. This must be how you feel all the time. All I do is shut off my heart and let my head do all the talking. No solution but my fists, although you know that already.
I shook off
these feelings and ran over to you; you were burnt, bruised, bleeding. You were
a mess, Spike.
I saw you. I saw you. I never did,
and I guess that makes me blind. I picked you up and I carried you outside.
Anya was gone and without any interruptions I took you home. We were the only
ones home and I carried you up to my bedroom. I put you in my bed, but I was
afraid to do anything else. I wasn't tired, I didn't want to sleep.
I looked at you. I just kept looking at you, I couldn't help myself. Looking was all I was allowed to do anymore. Everything you are now; everything, it's all my fault. But I've come to this realization far too late, and I'm so terribly sorry.
When the sun was about to rise I covered the windows, and at six in the morning I went away to remind Dawn of a few things. She's been sneaking out of the house every night. It's not like I haven't noticed.
But this isn't about her. It's about you. I don't know what to do," Buffy sighed. She looked at the unconscious vampire and was once again amazed at how he looked the same asleep as he did awake. Everyone else she knew, even Angel, relaxed when they were asleep. Spike's guards were still up. She wondered what he would look like when all his layers of defense were down. Below the Master Vampire, below the punk, below… Buffy realized she didn't know him well enough to name everything that he was. She'd never bothered to look past 'vampire' and 'punk'. "I made so many mistakes," she whispered.
^
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Story will be continued.
