Some Days By Miss Becky

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warning: Darkfic!

Spoilers for S7, "Lessons" and "Beneath You."

Sometimes things just don't get better.

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She goes down the stairs slowly, silently. She never calls his name anymore. She doesn't know who will be down there, who will respond to her.

Some days he is almost normal, and the light of humor in his eyes then could make her weep, if she was still capable of tears. His voice is different then, with the lilting accent she remembers, and he makes keen observations on the world around him. Sometimes on these nights they will patrol together, and in the moment of killing she can forget what he is, what he has become.

Other days he is lost, to her, to himself. To everything. He speaks to the dead, to himself, to demons only he can see. Everyone but her. She hates him on these days, the burden he is, the unending litany of madness and blood and guilt. She hates herself more, for being the reason he is what he is, for not being able to give him the rest he has earned a thousand times over.

The worst days are the ones when he knows. When he looks at her and sees her. When he remembers. He knows his mind is broken, that he wasn't always like this. He asks her to kill him then, to just end it all, and her answer is always the same. How can I no I won't you don't know what you're saying. But he does know. All too well.

And sooner or later he stops asking and begins banging his head on the wall as punishment for his sins, and she can start to breathe again, until the next time he asks.

She knows there was a time when it wasn't like this, but those days are out of focus, blurry with age. Her sister has someone now. Her friends have someones. But she can never have someone, because she has him. He is her responsibility, her cross. Life goes on, except for her.

She has made the world safe, a place where people can live and be happy. They tell her this, and they smile at her and she smiles back because they expect it. She laughs with them and plays with their children and waves goodbye as she drives away. Then she goes home to the basement and he screams at her to please please scrub the blood off the walls he can't take it anymore and she just stands there until he crumples to the floor, moaning desolately. When she can will her legs into moving, she goes back upstairs and shuts the door behind her.

She wishes he would hate her. That he would remember why he did it, how this happened. Maybe then she could stop hating herself so much, and let him do it for her.

But he never does.

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END