Chapter 14 ~ Just To Feel Again
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"And I will never feel anything else until my wounds are healed, I will never be anything until I break away from me . . ."
"Somewhere I Belong" Linkin Park
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They all assumed he was safer here. Safer in a small hospital like room. Safer lying on a bed like the invalid he had become. Safer living in his own head. Yet didn't they know that was the worst place they could leave him?
For that's what they had done. They had left him here. No one had come to save him in the night when it was dark and he was no longer alone. No one had heard his screams; at least no one who cared.
He felt like that drunk that lay on the street corner, people stepping over him, ignoring him. He wasn't important to them, but they were the most important people in the world to him. They could easily stop, bend down and take a little time just to see that he hadn't drowned in his problems.
That wasn't the way of the world though. Everyone was too busy trying to keep their head above the water they didn't have the time to lend a hand to save another from drowning. In a way, he didn't blame them. In saving another they could cause themselves to drown. Wasn't that what he had done?
He didn't regret it though. He saved others while bringing about his own demise. Others could live on so he would not. It wasn't like he wanted to anyway. Buffy was gone. All he had left was the figment of his imagination that had visited him yesterday. Aura was young, she had the coven, and she would love another. The others no longer needed him. They had lasted three years without him, why would they need him now?
He pulled himself painfully to a sitting position. He felt as though his middle was missing and he knew he wasn't strong enough to be leaving his bed yet, but all logic evaded him in this small room with empty walls. He wanted nothing more than to take a can of spray paint and just put some colour on the walls, make the room more full. It was just too empty; too lonely.
His feet found stability and he pulled himself to his feet, trying to catch his breath, as if something had just sucked all the life out of him. His gaze snapped to the small panel in the door as a shadow passed in front of it. He found a face at the door, staring in at him as if he was an animal at a zoo. If they were going to treat him like one he was going to act like one. He stuck his finger up at the nurse who looked momentarily shocked before she turned away from the door and continued on her way.
He didn't have any reason to be polite anymore. The door was locked and no one had asked him if he minded or not. He hated locked doors. The same way people hated heights. He feared locked doors. He didn't know why though. He just knew that he didn't want to remember why he hated locked doors.
No one had really cared that he was shut up in here though and no one knew him for the man he had been. They didn't know the father that had never had any children of his own, but had looked after them as if they were his own. They didn't know the man who had been brave and courageous because he had to be, when inside he was shaking with fear. They didn't know the man who was sweet, and kind and more than just a gentleman. They didn't know the ruthless man who had a temper that flared only when aggravated and could be dangerous when required of him. The only man they knew was the one that stood here now, portraying the image on a senile bastard who had a cold heart and didn't care about anyone but himself.
It didn't matter anymore. Rupert Giles was done fighting. He had nothing left to fight for. He was fed up trying to make himself get back on his feet.
He didn't know how this had all suddenly come about. It hadn't been a spur on the moment decision; at least he didn't think it had been. It had been festering for the past month that he had been locked away. Locked away in a hellish place that he so badly wanted to forget about. He had tried so hard to forget about it, tried to marvel in the wonders of the world, tried to live in the world. But it had been so hard to live in the world with what he had locked inside his head.
His hand reached up, interlocking with the metal grate over his window. The sun was just peeping over the horizon, shedding light on the world to show people the way. None of them realized how much of a privilege it was to live in the world; to see the beauty of blossoming trees, to lay eyes on a blue sky and to walk down the street when the only thing that bothered you was whether or not you had turned the television off this morning when you had rushed out the door late for work.
He heard a bell ring some distance off and he turned expecting to see Buffy with Xander and Willow in tow traipsing into the library, faces glum with the anticipation of research. All he found when he turned though was the empty room that he had been left in and he realized all too suddenly he wasn't sleeping, this wasn't a dream and the library had been blown up with the Mayor five years ago.
He felt tears slip down his cheeks and someone told him not to cry, told him everything would be fine, that they would be here with him until the end. All he had left to talk to was his mind that knew everything, had experienced everything with him and was going to be the last one to be with him after everything.
He just wanted to let go of all the pain that he'd felt for so long. Just wanted to take a rubber and erase everything till all the pain was gone. He was numb inside. And as the metal grill started to cut into his hand as he gripped tighter, blood running free, he realized he just wanted to feel again, feel something other than the pain.
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Aura fidgeted with the phone cord as she spoke over the phone to someone in that blasted place that had got them into this mess who continued to put her on hold. She eventually got frustrated and slammed the phone down, causing everyone to look up at her. Her eyes flared and everyone quickly averted their gaze back to the books on their laps, suddenly intrigued by the variety of cannibalistic demons found within the binds of the old books. Aura started mumbling obscenities beneath her breath about the Watcher's council before she sighed, leaving the living room and striding into the kitchen and out into the back yard.
Willow watched the older witch leave before closing the book that she was looking at. Xander and Spike had come in contact with a demon last night while out on patrol, killing one of them before the other had started to drag its mate away, feasting on it as it went. They now had more than one thing to worry about and the stress seemed to be getting to everyone.
Dawn hadn't come home last night. She had called to say she was staying at a friend's and Willow didn't blame her for not wanting to come back here. Willow wouldn't blame her if she didn't come back at all.
Willow heard footsteps falling on the stairs as Buffy descended into the hall. Her blond head of hair poked into the living room, looking round at everyone who were still engrossed in their books, still trying to be fascinated by their content. Willow was not fooled, neither was Buffy. They both knew the only person who could be truly fascinated with that sort of stuff. As if the two best friends both read each other's minds they looked away, blinking rapidly to hide the tears that would surely threaten to fall if allowed,
"I'm off." Buffy eventually said, barely audible as she started to pull the jacket on she had brought downstairs with her. Willow opened her mouth to speak to the blond, but found no words would come out. Buffy seemed to do the same, before thinking better of it and leaving the house that had once been hers.
Willow let out a slow sigh before pulling herself from the chair she had been seated in all morning, deciding someone better check on Aura. She didn't know what to feel anymore. Just when they seemed to be getting everything back together after three years it seemed as if the world had been turned upside down.
Willow let out a long shuddering sigh as she relished in the cool morning air before she followed the sounds of sobs down the garden to where Aura was standing, her head against the fence behind a rose bush.
Just when the pain had seemed to ebb, it all came flooding back again.
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Buffy had only been here two minutes and she already hated the place. She hated the sterile smell of it and the white walls, green linoleum floors and blue ceilings that seemed to make the place so much colder than it was.
She wrapped her jacket round her tighter as she continued to gaze about the visitors lounge, waiting for someone to show her to Giles' room. She looked about at the other three visitors that were sitting down, randomly flicking through magazines, looking out windows, and fidgeting with their hands, apparently not at all happy about being here. She didn't blame them though. She hated being here. She couldn't believe that she was actually visiting Giles in a mental institution.
She had always hated them, ever since she had been put in one when she was younger because of the whole vampire thing. She had vowed the day she had left she would never return, yet here she was almost nine years later standing in one again, but thankfully not as a patient. It was just as bad though - that feeling you got in your stomach. She didn't think it mattered whether you were a patient or a visitor; you still got that sick feeling in your stomach as if you knew of some horrible fate that awaited you,
"Miss. Summers?" Buffy turned at her name to meet eyes with a nurse slightly taller than her, smiling broadly down at her. She didn't know how he could smile, working in a place like this,
"I'm Taylor." He said by way of introduction,
"I'll show you where Mr. Giles is." He said before turning back the way he had come, pulling a card from his pocket which he swiped in the panel next to the door, tapping in some numbers before the door buzzed and he held it open for Buffy.
She followed him through the corridors without a word, even though he tried to make conversation with her. She didn't feel like talking. She was trying to prepare herself for what she was about to see, or at least what she expected to see.
Padded walls and a cowering form in the corner.
A bed with a drugged person strapped to it, totally out of it.
Or someone thrashing about, wrestling with nurses to try and get free of the madness in their head.
The corridors seemed to go one forever until they finally reached room 107, and she suddenly found her voice,
"How many rooms do you have?" she asked looking at Taylor, who looked back at her puzzled by the question as his hand froze in the process of opening the door,
"Two hundred." He said as he turned the key and pushed the door open to let her inside,
"You need anything I'll be outside the door." He said, encouraging her to enter the room. She did so after a moments hesitation, suddenly taken aback by the appearance of the room. It was empty and white like the corridors and the visitors lounge but there was no one huddled in the corner, no one strapped to the bed and no one thrashing about fighting against the madness in their head.
He was stood at the window, gazing into the distance. Buffy turned as she heard the door close behind her, before turning back to Giles. He didn't seem to have noticed that she was there and she was surprised to see him on his feet after him nearly being at deaths door yesterday. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was piped to the post,
"I wondered when you would come."
****************************************************************************
"And I will never feel anything else until my wounds are healed, I will never be anything until I break away from me . . ."
"Somewhere I Belong" Linkin Park
****************************************************************************
They all assumed he was safer here. Safer in a small hospital like room. Safer lying on a bed like the invalid he had become. Safer living in his own head. Yet didn't they know that was the worst place they could leave him?
For that's what they had done. They had left him here. No one had come to save him in the night when it was dark and he was no longer alone. No one had heard his screams; at least no one who cared.
He felt like that drunk that lay on the street corner, people stepping over him, ignoring him. He wasn't important to them, but they were the most important people in the world to him. They could easily stop, bend down and take a little time just to see that he hadn't drowned in his problems.
That wasn't the way of the world though. Everyone was too busy trying to keep their head above the water they didn't have the time to lend a hand to save another from drowning. In a way, he didn't blame them. In saving another they could cause themselves to drown. Wasn't that what he had done?
He didn't regret it though. He saved others while bringing about his own demise. Others could live on so he would not. It wasn't like he wanted to anyway. Buffy was gone. All he had left was the figment of his imagination that had visited him yesterday. Aura was young, she had the coven, and she would love another. The others no longer needed him. They had lasted three years without him, why would they need him now?
He pulled himself painfully to a sitting position. He felt as though his middle was missing and he knew he wasn't strong enough to be leaving his bed yet, but all logic evaded him in this small room with empty walls. He wanted nothing more than to take a can of spray paint and just put some colour on the walls, make the room more full. It was just too empty; too lonely.
His feet found stability and he pulled himself to his feet, trying to catch his breath, as if something had just sucked all the life out of him. His gaze snapped to the small panel in the door as a shadow passed in front of it. He found a face at the door, staring in at him as if he was an animal at a zoo. If they were going to treat him like one he was going to act like one. He stuck his finger up at the nurse who looked momentarily shocked before she turned away from the door and continued on her way.
He didn't have any reason to be polite anymore. The door was locked and no one had asked him if he minded or not. He hated locked doors. The same way people hated heights. He feared locked doors. He didn't know why though. He just knew that he didn't want to remember why he hated locked doors.
No one had really cared that he was shut up in here though and no one knew him for the man he had been. They didn't know the father that had never had any children of his own, but had looked after them as if they were his own. They didn't know the man who had been brave and courageous because he had to be, when inside he was shaking with fear. They didn't know the man who was sweet, and kind and more than just a gentleman. They didn't know the ruthless man who had a temper that flared only when aggravated and could be dangerous when required of him. The only man they knew was the one that stood here now, portraying the image on a senile bastard who had a cold heart and didn't care about anyone but himself.
It didn't matter anymore. Rupert Giles was done fighting. He had nothing left to fight for. He was fed up trying to make himself get back on his feet.
He didn't know how this had all suddenly come about. It hadn't been a spur on the moment decision; at least he didn't think it had been. It had been festering for the past month that he had been locked away. Locked away in a hellish place that he so badly wanted to forget about. He had tried so hard to forget about it, tried to marvel in the wonders of the world, tried to live in the world. But it had been so hard to live in the world with what he had locked inside his head.
His hand reached up, interlocking with the metal grate over his window. The sun was just peeping over the horizon, shedding light on the world to show people the way. None of them realized how much of a privilege it was to live in the world; to see the beauty of blossoming trees, to lay eyes on a blue sky and to walk down the street when the only thing that bothered you was whether or not you had turned the television off this morning when you had rushed out the door late for work.
He heard a bell ring some distance off and he turned expecting to see Buffy with Xander and Willow in tow traipsing into the library, faces glum with the anticipation of research. All he found when he turned though was the empty room that he had been left in and he realized all too suddenly he wasn't sleeping, this wasn't a dream and the library had been blown up with the Mayor five years ago.
He felt tears slip down his cheeks and someone told him not to cry, told him everything would be fine, that they would be here with him until the end. All he had left to talk to was his mind that knew everything, had experienced everything with him and was going to be the last one to be with him after everything.
He just wanted to let go of all the pain that he'd felt for so long. Just wanted to take a rubber and erase everything till all the pain was gone. He was numb inside. And as the metal grill started to cut into his hand as he gripped tighter, blood running free, he realized he just wanted to feel again, feel something other than the pain.
****************************************************************************
Aura fidgeted with the phone cord as she spoke over the phone to someone in that blasted place that had got them into this mess who continued to put her on hold. She eventually got frustrated and slammed the phone down, causing everyone to look up at her. Her eyes flared and everyone quickly averted their gaze back to the books on their laps, suddenly intrigued by the variety of cannibalistic demons found within the binds of the old books. Aura started mumbling obscenities beneath her breath about the Watcher's council before she sighed, leaving the living room and striding into the kitchen and out into the back yard.
Willow watched the older witch leave before closing the book that she was looking at. Xander and Spike had come in contact with a demon last night while out on patrol, killing one of them before the other had started to drag its mate away, feasting on it as it went. They now had more than one thing to worry about and the stress seemed to be getting to everyone.
Dawn hadn't come home last night. She had called to say she was staying at a friend's and Willow didn't blame her for not wanting to come back here. Willow wouldn't blame her if she didn't come back at all.
Willow heard footsteps falling on the stairs as Buffy descended into the hall. Her blond head of hair poked into the living room, looking round at everyone who were still engrossed in their books, still trying to be fascinated by their content. Willow was not fooled, neither was Buffy. They both knew the only person who could be truly fascinated with that sort of stuff. As if the two best friends both read each other's minds they looked away, blinking rapidly to hide the tears that would surely threaten to fall if allowed,
"I'm off." Buffy eventually said, barely audible as she started to pull the jacket on she had brought downstairs with her. Willow opened her mouth to speak to the blond, but found no words would come out. Buffy seemed to do the same, before thinking better of it and leaving the house that had once been hers.
Willow let out a slow sigh before pulling herself from the chair she had been seated in all morning, deciding someone better check on Aura. She didn't know what to feel anymore. Just when they seemed to be getting everything back together after three years it seemed as if the world had been turned upside down.
Willow let out a long shuddering sigh as she relished in the cool morning air before she followed the sounds of sobs down the garden to where Aura was standing, her head against the fence behind a rose bush.
Just when the pain had seemed to ebb, it all came flooding back again.
****************************************************************************
Buffy had only been here two minutes and she already hated the place. She hated the sterile smell of it and the white walls, green linoleum floors and blue ceilings that seemed to make the place so much colder than it was.
She wrapped her jacket round her tighter as she continued to gaze about the visitors lounge, waiting for someone to show her to Giles' room. She looked about at the other three visitors that were sitting down, randomly flicking through magazines, looking out windows, and fidgeting with their hands, apparently not at all happy about being here. She didn't blame them though. She hated being here. She couldn't believe that she was actually visiting Giles in a mental institution.
She had always hated them, ever since she had been put in one when she was younger because of the whole vampire thing. She had vowed the day she had left she would never return, yet here she was almost nine years later standing in one again, but thankfully not as a patient. It was just as bad though - that feeling you got in your stomach. She didn't think it mattered whether you were a patient or a visitor; you still got that sick feeling in your stomach as if you knew of some horrible fate that awaited you,
"Miss. Summers?" Buffy turned at her name to meet eyes with a nurse slightly taller than her, smiling broadly down at her. She didn't know how he could smile, working in a place like this,
"I'm Taylor." He said by way of introduction,
"I'll show you where Mr. Giles is." He said before turning back the way he had come, pulling a card from his pocket which he swiped in the panel next to the door, tapping in some numbers before the door buzzed and he held it open for Buffy.
She followed him through the corridors without a word, even though he tried to make conversation with her. She didn't feel like talking. She was trying to prepare herself for what she was about to see, or at least what she expected to see.
Padded walls and a cowering form in the corner.
A bed with a drugged person strapped to it, totally out of it.
Or someone thrashing about, wrestling with nurses to try and get free of the madness in their head.
The corridors seemed to go one forever until they finally reached room 107, and she suddenly found her voice,
"How many rooms do you have?" she asked looking at Taylor, who looked back at her puzzled by the question as his hand froze in the process of opening the door,
"Two hundred." He said as he turned the key and pushed the door open to let her inside,
"You need anything I'll be outside the door." He said, encouraging her to enter the room. She did so after a moments hesitation, suddenly taken aback by the appearance of the room. It was empty and white like the corridors and the visitors lounge but there was no one huddled in the corner, no one strapped to the bed and no one thrashing about fighting against the madness in their head.
He was stood at the window, gazing into the distance. Buffy turned as she heard the door close behind her, before turning back to Giles. He didn't seem to have noticed that she was there and she was surprised to see him on his feet after him nearly being at deaths door yesterday. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was piped to the post,
"I wondered when you would come."