Chapter 9 - Recriminations

I get back to my flat and fall down on the sofa. I'm exhausted, and it's got very little to do with the fact that I haven't slept for over a day. My clothes are filthy and blood stained, and I know I need a shower, but I simply have no energy.

I nearly lost her again. I thought I had. When I checked the data on Vargas demons, I nearly lost hope. A bite from one of those beasts is invariably fatal. For a human, and most other demons, death would occur within a couple of hours from a combination of blood loss and infection. There's even a suspicion that there's some sort of toxin in the saliva, but no one's ever survived an attack before, and there's just no data. I was so beside myself with worry about her that I almost didn't remember what the glowing child had told me. She needed blood. In the end, I know that was the only thing that saved her.

I have absolutely no idea how I killed the Vargas. I just remember her falling down, unconscious, and then that thing trying to take a bite. I assume I went mad in some way, the idea that something like that could think of eating my Slayer caused something in me to break. The next thing I knew, I was lying underneath the Vargas, and I'd managed to break its neck.

I squirmed from under its body, and ran to Buffy. I thought I was too late at first. She was hardly breathing. I picked her up and ran to my flat as fast as I could. It was the closest place I could think of. I considered taking her to hospital, but something told me they wouldn't be able to help her.

I did my best to clean up her wounds, but I just couldn't stop the bleeding. I called Dawn so she knew what was happening, and got Clem to bring her over. He was surprised to hear from me, but he's a good mate. He knew not to ask questions.

Buffy seemed to improve a bit once she'd been cleaned up, but the bite was still bleeding. Then her temperature started to go up, and I knew she was in trouble. I think that bit got to Dawn too. That was when I started to find out what I could about the Vargas demon. I really didn't like what I discovered. Somehow, I remembered about the blood. I went out. Didn't like leaving Dawn like that, but I didn't know what else to do. I mean, Clem's a good mate, but not exactly your knight in shining armour. I suppose I could've called Xander, but he'd have wanted to move her right away, and I couldn't let him do that. And Dawn didn't want him either.

It took me longer than I thought. I wanted human blood, and Willy was out of it. I had to do a round of various establishments around Sunnydale before I got hold of a couple of pints of it.

I thought it'd take a while to persuade Dawn that Buffy needed to drink the stuff. When she saw what I had brought back, I think she thought it was for me. For some reason, the chit just trusts me. I explained what I had been told, and she agreed. Just like that.

Buffy was delirious by then, and she didn't want to drink. But then, if she hadn't been delirious, she still wouldn't have wanted to drink, and there would have been no way we could have forced it.

Within half an hour of her drinking the blood, Buffy was noticeably better. Her temperature was pretty much back to normal, the bleeding had stopped, and she was sleeping deeply. Once we were sure she was really getting better, Dawn and I got her back to her own bed. It just seemed the simplest thing to do. I mean, according to Dawn, Xander would be arriving later, and he'd be worried if the house was empty. Then there was the basic fear of seeing her, or more exactly, of her seeing me. I just couldn't bear to see that look of hate on her face. So, I took her home. There was a time when I'd have killed anyone who suggested I was afraid. But this is one fear I'll admit to anyone.

I prise myself out of the chair and go upstairs to shower. I spend a long time under the spray, allowing it to wash away not only the dirt, but the feeling of helplessness I felt when I thought I was losing her again.

When I'm clean and dressed, I call. I'm ready to hang up if Xander answers, but I hear Dawn's voice.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Better," she answers, her voice much less tense than the last time I spoke to her. "She woke up a while ago, and she talked a bit. She was a bit vague about what happened, but I think she'll be ok."

I hear a voice in the background, and I know whose it is.

"Dawn, is that him? Give it to me."

Dawn hurriedly says goodbye, and hangs up. I can just imagine Xander's reaction to my being back, and I know I deserve it. It's just that I don't want to hear it from him.

I go to the kitchen, and find myself some beer. I wish I'd bought something stronger. I take it back to the lounge, and start to drink.

I must have fallen asleep. I wake up later, maybe not much later, shaking as a result of the dream I'd been having. It was last night again, but this time, after I killed the Vargas, I finished off what he'd started. I drank her blood, feeling the potent Slayer blood filling my veins, healing my own injuries instantly. I held her in my arms as I drained her, as I felt her heart slow, then stop. In the dream, I walked away from her ravaged body, uncaring that I'd killed her, that my demon had finally won the battle.

I sit there, on my sofa, my body shaking, and sobs racking me. I feel the urge to just get out of her life. I hate what I've done, to her and to others. I hate what I'm capable of doing. I may not need blood to survive any more, but I know that blood will give me something human food simply can't. The urge to feed is still there. The chip turned to dust with my other body, and there's nothing to stop me from killing. Nothing but me. And her blood would be special. I know it would be better than anything else I could have. I feel the demon within me urging me to take the chance, to taste the nectar that runs in her veins. I'm filled with self-loathing, as I struggle to repress those feelings.

If Buffy's like me, how is it she can keep her demon under control? I know, she doesn't have the history of feeding, she doesn't know the high that comes with draining someone's lifeblood. Last year, when we were shagging, I tried to make her see that she belonged in the dark with me. She was like me then, but she kept it under control, managed to walk away from me, even though I know she wanted me.

How can she be so strong when I'm so weak? I laugh mirthlessly at the question. Answer's simple. Because she's Buffy, she's strong, and she loves with her whole self. She's good. I mean, she can do things that aren't good, but that isn't her. I'm not like her. I'm evil. Deep down, I'm evil, a waste of space. I don't deserve her, and I don't deserve Dawn.

I remember how she hugged me when it was obvious Buffy had turned the corner. It felt so good. Human contact, an innocent young girl putting her arms around me, holding me close, thanking me for helping her sister. When I think how easily I could have changed that act, made it something nasty and evil, I'm sobbing again.

I feel like I'm lost. I'm stuck here in Sunnydale, put here by a glowing child who doesn't know me, doesn't know what I'm capable of. She can't. She wants me here to keep Dawn safe, but I'm the one most likely to harm her. I wish death was as easy as a walk in the sunshine now. If it were, I'd be going for a walk right about now.