CrazyEvilDru
DISCLAIMER : I do not own these characters.
She’s dead. My mother is dead. She’s six feet under the ground from where I’m standing. Something is just not right about that. Something is terribly wrong when I can say that I’m standing over my mother. I can stand *up* to her, but never *over* her. It’s just wrong. It’s worse than wrong when I can take three steps to my left and stand over my sister. I was always over her, and she always looked up to me. Even now.
It’s been five days since I walked into my house to find Glory in my house with my mother’s body lying on the floor. I was too late to save her. Dawn was in Glory’s grasp and I screamed at her to let Dawn go, but she didn’t. Before I could react, she stuck her fingers in Dawn’s head to kill her or make her crazy. Within seconds, a green light came out of Dawn’s eyes and her body fell lifelessly to the floor. Glory just turned around and said, “Oh fuck.” Before disintegrating. I guess those soldiers really did know that they needed to destroy the key.
So they got what they wanted. Glory got her key. The soldiers completed the mission they were sent here to do. And all of my memories of Dawn and of a little sister vanished, with the exception of one picture of Mom, Dawn and myself. In one second I remembered that she was *not* at the school on Parent-Teacher Night, and Angel did *not* see her steal my diary from my room during the day he was stuck in my house. In one second I remembered what it was like to truly feel alone.
I guess that feeling hasn’t left me.
I’m alone. The slayer is. That’s what the first slayer said, wasn’t it? We’re alone. No friends. Those are the rules. Abide by them or be sorry. But I don’t see the justice in that. Or I didn’t. Now I do. If you’re alone to begin with, it’s just normal. But if you’re used to having people in your life and then they disappear you learn the feeling of alone very quickly.
It’s empty. *I’m* empty.
Gods, I’ve been alone five days and already I can’t stand it. I want to feel.
I used to feel. I used to feel quite a lot. I used to feel annoyed at my mother who wouldn’t teach me how to drive. I used to feel jealous at a sister that wasn’t even mine, because she got to be a child, and I grew up too fast. I used to feel like the only person in the world when Angel walked into the room. I used to feel important. But I don’t anymore. I couldn’t save my mother. I couldn’t save my sister. What good am I when I can’t even keep those who I love safe?
But now, I don’t have to worry about that. I’ve exiled myself from life. I told Willow and Xander to stay away. I told them I don’t want to see them anymore. I told Giles that I’d call in once a week with a report and in the event of an emergency. It’s the only way to keep them safe. It’s the only way to not lose someone else.
I couldn’t take feeling this empty again. Fighting helps. It makes me feel stronger, but it doesn’t make me *feel*. I don’t think I can anymore. But I desperately want to.
Suddenly I feel a vampire, in the pit of my stomach and whip around. “Hello, Cutie.” He says before my fist cracks his jaw. “Hello to you too.” I throw another punch that he dodges, but he doesn’t see my foot coming and I get him in his gut. He doubles over and I bring my knee up and hit him hard in the nose. “BLOODY HELL, SLAYER!” He yells as he recovers from the blows and stands up.
My elbow makes its way to his head and he catches it, but I bring my leg up and around and kick him in the side. He lets me go and starts to step back. But I jump up onto a tombstone and jump at him. I kick him in the chest with my feet before I land on the ground. That knocked the wind outta him. He’s gasping desperately for air that I know he doesn’t need and I feel strong. I feel powerful. I feel feared.
He lands on his ass on the ground and I walk towards him. He looks up at me and wipes the blood from his nose. I kick him in the face to keep it bleeding. “WHAT THE HELL’S GOT INTO YOU, SLAYER?”
I kick his head again and knock him out.
I can’t just leave him here, though I don’t know why. Instead, I pick him up and carry him back to his crypt. I don’t know why. Maybe just because he’s the only person who has ever been completely honest with me. Because he’s the only one who’s respected me for what I am. Even when he was kicking my ass, he appreciates my style and my puns. He understands my jokes and how I think. I’m not sure that if he was chipless, and we were fighting, if he would lose. He knows me too well now. He’s fought beside me. He’s watched me and gotten into my life. All’s he would have to do was bring up how I failed my friends, and how Angel doesn’t want me. He’d drain me before I was able to process what he said and choke back the tears.
Maybe I carry him inside because he’s the only one who told me that I am fundamentally alone, waiting for the day I die. Maybe it’s because I know he *feels*. And I want that. Even chipped, he feels as strong as he ever was, else he hides it well. He feels as angry and wanted as he always was. Perhaps it’s because he lets his emotions feed him. He takes what he feels, good or bad, and uses it to sustain him. I want that. I want him to teach me that. I want him to make the pain stop. I want to feel anything but the pain. I want to feel in control and powerful. I wanna feel something other than this cold inside me. Something other than alone. I want to feel wanted and needed, sexy and powerful. I want power and control more than anyt-
I take him downstairs to where his bed is. I saw it. Big bad vampire needs a four-poster bed. I stop and look around. I know where I can get those feelings.
I put his unconscious body on the bed and start looking around in the dark for what I know is there. My hands grope the floor and I find the chains that were used to chain me here. Was that only three weeks ago?
I walk over to the bed and attach the manacles to the bedposts. Power. Control. They’re both mine. If only for tonight.
While he’s unconscious, I open the chest that I found. Like sire, like childe, I suppose. While he’s out, I prepare. I go through his chest, pulling out what I might need for the lesson. It’s right after I look at everything in the box that I realize that he’s wearing too many clothes. I grab the gold-handled knife and slice it up his shirt. Much better.
I grab the little bottle of water and straddle his thighs. I start lightly sprinkling the water on his chest and he slowly comes to. He looks up and remembers the fight. Then he realizes that I’m on top of him and that he’s chained to the bed. I watch his fear, and lust, and other emotions dance across his face until he settles on confused yet interested. I wish I could do that. I wish I could disguise my feelings. I wish I *had* some.
“Bloody hell, Slayer! What are you doing?” He says in disbelief.
“What’s wrong, Spike?” I ask as I grind myself into the ever-growing bulge in his jeans. “I thought this was one of your wet dreams. I chain you to the bed, that’s gotta be up there with bathing in my blood.”
“It’s a close race.” He replies, while trying to seem cool about what’s happening.
“I’ll bet.” I say as I flick some more water onto his bare chest. It sizzles and burns his skin.
“What are you doin’, Slayer? This isn’t like you.”
“It’s not? What’s me?” I ask as I press the tip of the knife into his skin slightly. “I would’ve said that I’m Buffy Summers and I have a mother who loves and a little sister I care about. But I don’t have either one of those things anymore. Two months ago, I would’ve said that I have a boyfriend who loves me, who will protect me until the day I die, but apparently I didn’t love him enough.”
“So for that, you’ve got me chained to my bed?”
“I would’ve said that I’m defined by my friends. I had great friends, didn’t I? They helped me feel like part of the world. But I’m not. Am I? I’m alone. I’m nothing. I can’t even feel anything anymore, Spike.” I push the knife into his skin. “Can you feel that?”
“Bloody hell, yes.” He grunts as I push it in deeper.
I release the handle and leave it buried in his gut while I take my top off. I take the knife out of him and push it slowly into my gut. He vamps out at the smell of my blood and I pull the knife out. “Well, I don’t.”
“Don’t what, Luv?”
“Feel. I can’t.” I look down at the blood-covered knife and lay it on his stomach. “I can’t feel anything.” I can feel the tears welling up and I look at him. “I might as well be dead.”
“Why?” He asks. “Because you lost your mum and sister? Or because you never had ‘em?”
“What?”
“Oh come on, everyone’s alone, Slayer. *Everyone*. You. Me. Every person walking around right now and everyone sitting. No one is truly not alone. Most just fake it good.”
I clutch my stomach and realize that it does hurt. It hurts a lot. “Oh god,” I whisper. “I think I hit something important.” I hold my hand up and it’s covered in blood. I climb off him and grab my sweater. I tie it around my stomach tight in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
“If you’re not gonna shag me, could you unchain me, Luv? You should go to a hospital.”
“I can’t. They’d just ask why I heal quicker than everyone else. I can’t answer those questions.” I do get up on the bed and unchain one of his hands. He gets the other free and throws the knife across the room.
“Just lay down, Luv.”
“How do you do that?” I ask as I lay back like he said.
“What?”
“Hide your loathing hatred for me. How do you turn it into love?”
“Dunno. Wasn’t something I wanted to happen, it just did. And for the record, I still hate you.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“Love never did. I just know what I feel.”
“I don’t feel anything.”
“You must. Else you wouldn’t be here, you’d be off in your room stabbing yourself. Or I’d still be attached the bed and you’d be bleeding out in front of me. You still care.”
“But about what? My life? It’s a joke. I can’t afford to keep my friends. And my family is gone. What do I have left to care about?” I ask.
He pauses and picks up a watch from the nightstand near the bed. “You see this?” I nod. He stares at for a minute, and I do likewise. “In the time it took for that little hand to spin around once, a five year old was just left parentless.” I cringe at his words. “See? You care. Just not about you. You care about all the people that are sacrificed or killed daily by murderers, demon or not. And I hate you even more for making me tell you why you’re not dead yet.”
“But what about the other slayers?”
He pulls out a flask and offers it to me. “It’ll take the edge off the pain.” We both swig it and then he lays down next to me. “The other slayers? They were consumed with the hunt, and with the demons. They cared about what they were told to care about. That’s why you’ve lasted as long as you have. Not because of your mum or sister, but because you cared too much to leave. You still do.”
“I feel so numb.”
“See? You *do* feel. Just because you feel empty, doesn’t mean you don’t feel. You *feel* empty, which is a feeling.”
“I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Pushing your friends away, isn’t the most productive place to start, Luv.”
“How did you…”
“The Watcher stopped by and asked if I’d seen you.”
“Oh.”
“They love you, Summers. They hurt as well. You don’t have to push them away. If they haven’t died yet, chances are you’re not gonna be the reason.”
“Thanks.” I say. “Now if I can keep from passing out…”
“You should at least get some bandages or something for that. A clean shirt at least. Let me get you one.”
“What about you?” I ask.
“I’ve taken worse.” He stands up and brings over a clean shirt to wrap around me. I untie my sweater and he helps me pull it out from under me. “It’s still bleeding.” He says and I see him unknowingly lick his lips.
“Does it look bad?”
“I don’t think you hit anything major. There’s not much major there, and if you were bleeding internally, you’d be unconscious by now and there’d be more blood.”
I slide my hand down and tentatively touch the wound. It’s starting to heal a little. I lift my hand and it’s covered in blood. “I can get a towel to wash that off.” He says but he doesn’t move as I raise my fingers to his mouth. I rub a little blood on his bottom lip and he licks my finger before sucking it into his mouth.
He slowly, sensuously licks my fingers clean before returning to my side on the bed. “Spike?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah, Buffy?”
“Will you… will you hold me tonight? I need to feel close to someone.” He pulls me close to him and wraps his arms around me. And for the first time in five days, I feel.
~El Fin de Feel~