Unconditional
The back porch seems to be the only place she can find some semblance of peace most nights. Hearing the crickets chirp and gazing up at the twinkling stars as a cool breeze caresses her face is the only way she can remember that this world isn't created solely out of chaos. Buffy drowns out the shouting which she hears through the walls, her friend's concern doesn't faze her. If they expect her to meet their expectations then they should be concerned because being that Buffy isn't something she's capable of; not now, maybe not ever again.
They don't see, don't understand, and maybe they never will. What it's like to be pulled from that comforting white light is something that's unexplainable. That kind of complete peace and understanding is something that cannot be described on this plane of existence. The words simply do not exist.
They see her on the outside and remember how she was before, but inside she feels hollow. When she was ripped from heaven a piece was ripped from her, a piece that doesn't belong in this place, and until she died it was a piece that was never a part of her, but when she was given that piece it was like suddenly everything made sense, all of her struggles in life, it all had a purpose and she was complete. Nothing has a purpose anymore.
Her friends, they've never felt what it's like to be complete, everything here is unfinished and lacking and she can't blame them because you can't miss what you've never had; but she had it once. She was complete and now she feels broken. It's like how a man feels who was struck down in his prime to live the rest of his life as a paraplegic. He knows what it's like to have full control of his body but is forced to live without everything which he thought made him who he was.
The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. This world is made of pain and hurt, there are struggles here and you have to fight, and because of this everything is conditional. Where she was before, pain did not exist and she didn't have to fight, all she felt was love. It was overpowering and it was unconditional.
Here everyone asks too much of her, wants too much, but they don't know any better and their intentions are good. They love her, they want her to be happy, they want her to be Buffy; but they want these things for themselves; not for her. Bitterness seeps into Buffy's veins as she thinks of her friend's selfishness, and then she resents herself for feeling so infuriated with people she loves over their good intentions. It's a sick cycle of depression and resentment and everyday she finds that she hates herself a little more.
Spidery tingles run down the Slayer's spine and for just a fraction of a second she forgets. She's not at peace, but she's also not in pain, there is a numbness that floods through her in that fractioned second which is comforting. The orange ember of a cigarette bud lands on the second stair and Buffy steps down to grind it out with the toe of her boot.
"Hello Spike," the Slayer says as a weary smile forms across her face. Her expression may be tired and worn, but it's a true smile and for that small semblance of emotion she's grateful. She doesn't turn to him but can tell that he's observing her.
"You hear all that noise?" Spike asks as he glances toward the door and she nods.
"Just enough to make me feel crappy."
"You know watcher-boy doesn't mean anything by it," he says as he takes a step closer to her and Buffy shrugs. It doesn't matter to her what Giles means by his words, he doesn't know any more then the rest of them do. He doesn't understand any better. He may not be as selfish as the rest, but he still doesn't understand.
"I guess, everyone... they all care. They all care so much; it ... makes it all harder." Harder because the more they care the more she hates her self for resenting them.
"I'm not sure I followed you around that bend, love," Spike says as he steps up to the second stair and Buffy knows he doesn't really understand either.
"I don't know. I just, I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay, so they don't worry. It's exhausting, and then, I..." Buffy trails off. She makes a frustrated gesture and then clenches her hand into a fist. She can't explain. The words don't exist, but for what she does attempt to explain she's glad for someone to finally be there to listen. Everyone else, they ask, they talk; but they don't listen, at least not to anything more then what they want to hear.
"And that makes them worry even more," Spike says and Buffy looks to him, and as she catches sight of his translucent blue eyes Buffy thinks that maybe he understands more then she's given him credit for.
Spike walks the rest of the way up the porch steps and stands beside her. Moments pass where neither speaks and Buffy finds that the calm she feels when she's alone, outside listening to the crickets chirp and observing the glimmering stars is still there with Spike. She can be alone with Spike because he doesn't ask anything of her like the rest of them do. He doesn't want anything from her. He doesn't insist that she be okay, doesn't prod her daily to hear her speak the words that say she's okay when she's really not. He doesn't seek lies from her, simply accepts her as she is; damaged and incomplete. His love for her used to scare her, used to disgust her, but now there is something about how he's able to love her despite the fact that she's given him nothing in return that she values. He loves her unconditionally.
"You want me to take them out? Give me a hell of a headache, but I could probably thin the herd a little." It takes the Slayer a moment to process the joke, but when she does she smiles what's most likely the brightest smile she's had since her return. Spike smiles a pleased smirk in return.
"Knew I could get a grin," he says and they exchange a look of understanding. Buffy stretches out her muscles and moves forward to sit on the top stair. She sighs deeply as Spike sits down beside her.
"Why are you always around when I'm miserable?" Not that that statement is exactly true as she seems to be rather miserable all the time.
"Cause that's when you're alone, I reckon. I'm not one for crowds myself these days," Spike says and their eyes meet again. She wonders why it doesn't feel strange, it should feel strange to be sharing her thoughts with a vampire, to be relating with him on this level; but then again she hasn't really been displaying a full range of appropriate emotions lately anyway, still it feels like more then a fluke that Spike seems to understand her more then anyone else.
"Me neither," Buffy says.
"That works out nicely then," Spike replies and Buffy finds that she's glad that things have worked out that way. They sit there quietly; listening to the crickets chirp and watch the stars shine down upon them. This may be the closest thing Buffy's felt of peace since heaven, and it's unconditional.
A/N: It's been a while since I've posted anything so I just wanted everyone to know that I will be having some new stories coming out in the coming months and to check my profile for updates.