She went down the streets, shocked, not caring where she went, how much she
stumbled. Nothing could have shocked her more than what Spike had just told
her.
No, not Spike. William.
She started to cry. Her heart felt as if someone had stabbed it with a
dagger.
His words in the church, his voice...
Tears were staining her cheeks. His pain had been so terrible, the look on his face so scared when she touched him. She tried to rip herself of the memory of William embracing that deadly cross, embracing rather the pain it was giving him than look at her. Tried to forget that had she not taken him from the cross he would have burned there. Tried to forget the sight of William as he lay on the floor, his chest burned raw. Tried to forget William curled into a ball, unconcious.
Tried...No, it didn´t work. The memories started crawling back to her, forcing her to see what she didn´t want to. She realized now that had she not been so prejudiced she would have noticed it earlier. In the church, she had seen it in his eyes, just as Anya had before. But then she had been to preoccupied with her pain, with her feelings, to care much what anyone else did or thought or said. Had she listened to his words before, she would have noticed the difference.
"Not used for a very long time" he had said. Oh yes, she could tell. It would have been a precious gift, to have a glimpse at the man before he had been turned into a vampire. As it was , she was only scared, frightened of what she had seen. Something that she had tried to avoid thinking. Knowing that he was alive. His words had set free the man he had been so many years ago, the thinker, the poet. His words had shaken her. She knew the power he held with his words, even if he didn´t. She knew now as she had never known before that he was alive, alive and burning, more than she had ever been. She had seen the emotions inside him, more than he could take, burning him, hurting him.
She stopped in the parc, grasping a bench, holding tight, panting, weeping. No, it couldn´t be. How dared he step out of the picture she had of him, how dared he rose her emotions with his words. And not only with his words. It was how he said it that made her feel dizzy, like they were back in the 19th century. It were his moves, his look that had shattered her completely. Never in her life had she felt that much sympathy with a being she had taught herself to despise.
Sobbing she sat down. She could almost feel the pain that was ripping him apart herself. And somewhere in her deepest conscience a voice told her that he had done it because she had wanted it. Because she had made him do it. And that it was her fault he suffered. No. She shook her head. It had been his own free will. She must go on thinking that or she would be lost. Lost inside his head, together with all those ghosts he kept on speaking of. No, it mustn´t be.
Again she saw his bleeding chest in her memory when he told her that he had tried to rip "it" out, saw him clutching the walls, weeping for grief and her turning her back on him. She told herself that she had had any right to do that, that he was the one who had tried to rape her and that noone expected her to trust him. But his pain came back to her, livid in her memory, and now she thought she knew what was griping her. It wasn´t Spike, not much anyway, it was the fact that she herself had turned to stone, she who thought herself human. And now she had to discover that the being she thought she hated was more human than most people she knew. She had become prejudiced and lazy, not wanting her world to change because that would have meant trouble and energy. And she didn´t envy Spike. William.
The name, his name, crept coming back to her, despite her will. William the bloody, because of his poetry, but what he had said had been neither bloody nor cruel. It had been wonderful in its simpleness and expressions, talking to the very center of her heart, making her cry. She wiped her nose and turned around. Well then. Everything had changed.
Tears were staining her cheeks. His pain had been so terrible, the look on his face so scared when she touched him. She tried to rip herself of the memory of William embracing that deadly cross, embracing rather the pain it was giving him than look at her. Tried to forget that had she not taken him from the cross he would have burned there. Tried to forget the sight of William as he lay on the floor, his chest burned raw. Tried to forget William curled into a ball, unconcious.
Tried...No, it didn´t work. The memories started crawling back to her, forcing her to see what she didn´t want to. She realized now that had she not been so prejudiced she would have noticed it earlier. In the church, she had seen it in his eyes, just as Anya had before. But then she had been to preoccupied with her pain, with her feelings, to care much what anyone else did or thought or said. Had she listened to his words before, she would have noticed the difference.
"Not used for a very long time" he had said. Oh yes, she could tell. It would have been a precious gift, to have a glimpse at the man before he had been turned into a vampire. As it was , she was only scared, frightened of what she had seen. Something that she had tried to avoid thinking. Knowing that he was alive. His words had set free the man he had been so many years ago, the thinker, the poet. His words had shaken her. She knew the power he held with his words, even if he didn´t. She knew now as she had never known before that he was alive, alive and burning, more than she had ever been. She had seen the emotions inside him, more than he could take, burning him, hurting him.
She stopped in the parc, grasping a bench, holding tight, panting, weeping. No, it couldn´t be. How dared he step out of the picture she had of him, how dared he rose her emotions with his words. And not only with his words. It was how he said it that made her feel dizzy, like they were back in the 19th century. It were his moves, his look that had shattered her completely. Never in her life had she felt that much sympathy with a being she had taught herself to despise.
Sobbing she sat down. She could almost feel the pain that was ripping him apart herself. And somewhere in her deepest conscience a voice told her that he had done it because she had wanted it. Because she had made him do it. And that it was her fault he suffered. No. She shook her head. It had been his own free will. She must go on thinking that or she would be lost. Lost inside his head, together with all those ghosts he kept on speaking of. No, it mustn´t be.
Again she saw his bleeding chest in her memory when he told her that he had tried to rip "it" out, saw him clutching the walls, weeping for grief and her turning her back on him. She told herself that she had had any right to do that, that he was the one who had tried to rape her and that noone expected her to trust him. But his pain came back to her, livid in her memory, and now she thought she knew what was griping her. It wasn´t Spike, not much anyway, it was the fact that she herself had turned to stone, she who thought herself human. And now she had to discover that the being she thought she hated was more human than most people she knew. She had become prejudiced and lazy, not wanting her world to change because that would have meant trouble and energy. And she didn´t envy Spike. William.
The name, his name, crept coming back to her, despite her will. William the bloody, because of his poetry, but what he had said had been neither bloody nor cruel. It had been wonderful in its simpleness and expressions, talking to the very center of her heart, making her cry. She wiped her nose and turned around. Well then. Everything had changed.