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Dedicated to Dahlia Jill and Linda – you guys know why hehe.

Chapter 4

I can barely make out a coherent sentence, she’s crying so hard. Well, that and the fact that I don’t think she is actually forming coherent sentences. I catch ‘friends’ and ‘you’ and ‘bitch’. I think she says something about her mom and she definitely says something about vampires and killing. I reach forward and stroke her arm, trying to calm her down so that she makes sense but she jumps back from me as if I’d slapped her. Anger rises from nowhere, I thought I’d got through to her but she still won’t let me comfort her. My anger dissipates rapidly however when she turns her tortured face up to me and does form an audible sentence.

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to touch me, I know you were trying to comfort me but I don’t deserve it. I want you to hear me out. If you still want to then, I’ll be amazed. Whether you do or not I’ll take whatever you want to give me, good or bad. That’s if you even want to give me anything at all. I’ll leave straight away if you want me to. ”

The pain in her eyes envelops me, washing away every last shred of anger. What the hell can she have done, what can have happened that she’d think I’d ever pass up an opportunity to be the one to soothe her pain? Slowly I reach forward and take her hand.

“Very well Buffy.” My ‘Master’ voice is back. “Come over here and tell me what’s wrong.” The voice does what my touch could not at this point. Quiets her tears as she allows me to lead her meekly over to the comfy chair. I motion her to sit down on it but she shakes her head and drops my hand to kneel in front of it. Evidently she wants me to sit in the chair while she kneels at my feet to talk to me. She’s about to spill so I’m not even going to consider recrimination for this small act of rebellion, I’ll do as she wants, because after all, it’s mostly about what she wants when we play these games.

She clears her throat and looks up at me. A waterfall still cascades from her eyes but the violent sobs are no longer wracking her body.

“You were right.” She starts. “What you said about me being pathetic? You were so right Spike you don’t even know.”

“Buffy, sweetheart, you know that was just……….”

“Please.” She interrupts. “I’m sorry to interrupt you but please can I just get this out before you say anything? I know it’s not my place to ask you to keep quiet. The safeword is still in the ‘unsaid’ category, but I beg this one thing of you.”

“Ok.” I say reluctantly. “I’ll try as best I can, but that’s as near a promise as you’ll get.”

I thought that might get me a twitch of a smile, but it doesn’t. I resign myself to the fact that she obviously has a lot to get off her chest and I won’t be seeing my Buffy until she does. I can only hope that simply saying it all out loud will make it better. She takes a deep breath, clears her throat again then drops her head, unable to hold my gaze as she begins to speak through her tears.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a horrible person. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to realise it but it’s finally sunk in. There’s a whole list of reasons why I know I’m right about this. So here I go.

“First of all, my friends. I hate them. Hate them for bringing me back. I told you before, I was done, and I was happy when my body was rotting in the ground where it belonged. I hate that I’m back and my life is just one long round of fighting again. I have idle thoughts about going away, taking my life. For the most part I’m on auto-pilot. I eat I drink, I sleep – sometimes, and I patrol. And through all of it I’m walking around numb. I had enough of violence and fighting and bloodshed and I hate that this is my life again. But then, even saying this makes me feel like a spoilt child; it’s my duty and I should just get on with it like I used to. Except now I feel like I can’t even complain about it. Because if I do I’ll hurt my friends, I should be happy that I’m alive God knows they were happy that I was back. But then, I think that that’s only because now they don’t have to worry about the slaying, ‘Buffy’s back we’ll be ok’ and that’s when the worst thoughts come. I actually want to hurt them sometimes, because they’re the bastards that did this to me. They hated having to share out my old duties between them so much that they selfishly ripped me out of the peace I’d found so they wouldn’t have to any more. They made me live in this hell. And I get so angry that I want to hurt the people I love and I don’t even know if I can love them anymore.”

Her eyes had settled down a little but now they are streaming again, I desperately want to put her straight on some things she’s said but I said I’d hear her out and I get the feeling she is far from done.

“And I should love them, they were so genuinely sorry and upset when they found out I’d been in heaven – but I can’t even make myself care about that. They think I’m over it now, and I try to put on the happy face so they don’t know but there’s this huge gaping hole inside me where my feelings used to be.”

She takes a deep breath, swallows hard and blinks a few times. I sense she was on the edge of sobbing again but she gets it under control.

“Then, there was tonight. You and I had that stupid argument, about nothing. Hell it wasn’t even an argument it was just us being us. But I left here and that black hole just got bigger and bigger. So, obviously I was me about it and got even more upset about the fact that I was upset over you.” I wince – so not what I want to hear. She seems to be letting me in, but I don’t know if I want to be ‘in’ if she’s about to tell me how much she hates herself for caring that we had a fight.

“So do you know what I did? I went and sat on my mom’s grave and cried like an idiot. Telling her that I wanted to be with her, then cursing her for not coming to get me. Then I saw some vamps. They had two humans with them and I just sat there. Sat there crying until they noticed me. It was like a lightbulb went on in my brain. I cried a little louder so that they would notice me then I just sat and waited for them to come and bite me. They came too. Laughed at me, promised to send me to meet my mommy. I was so pathetic, at that moment that’s all I wanted. I just can’t live like this anymore. It wasn’t until one of them had his fangs right at my neck that I unspaced. And by then…..” She starts sobbing again. “Oh God. By then they had already killed one of the guys Spike. I let them kill an innocent man all because I was having an ‘Oprah’ moment. What the hell am I that I could let that happen? And suddenly I can feel again, feel plenty and all of it is guilt. Guilt ripping me apart because I’m so selfish that I let a man die.

“And do you know what caps it all off? Why I know I’m not even fit to breathe? The very next thing I did was come to you for punishment. And I know that that is so wrong. We are so wrong and that’s as much my fault as the guy I killed tonight. I know you love me, but I won’t even think about it. I won’t think about it because you are the only one that can make me feel, but if I don’t control those feelings I might look into myself and realise that I actually care for you. And I know that the second I do that you’ll leave. So even though I give you nothing back, I come to you to feel, but carry on making myself indifferent to you. I selfishly come here night after night with my feelings turned off. God, do you know, I don’t even know how I feel about you. Don’t know if I’m capable of feeling anything at all apart from the obvious lust. I’m like a leech, I take all the love you can give me and keep it inside myself. Use it to warm myself, make me feel not so alone when I lie in my own bed at night. I take advantage. I use you. You don’t deserve that. You’ve done nothing but help, or try to help, even when I was gone you looked after Dawn. And how do I repay you? I use you. Just like I use my friends, you’re all handy sometimes but the rest of the time I just want it all to go away. I’m a cold, unfeeling, bitch who can’t even do my job properly. A man died because I’m so wrapped up in myself. I deserve to be hurt. To be put down, trodden on because I’m dirt.”

I’m fighting to keep my mouth shut now. She’s in genuine pain I can feel it coming off her. She really believes every word she says, even when she’s almost contradicting herself. I hope she’s nearly finished because I have some counterpoints that she is going to listen to, like it or not.

“And do you know what the worst part is?” she continues, evidently not quite done yet. “It isn’t even real punishment. Because when you do those things to me I like it. I get off on it. How twisted am I, that the only thing that makes me feel ‘normal’ is being overpowered by a guy? And even when I purposefully push you, you can’t hurt me enough. I’m a walking fuck-up and I don’t have the right to call myself a human being. I don’t have the right to breathe but I’m so pathetic that I didn’t even have the guts to end it. I couldn’t even do that right!”

Her face crumples and the loudest sobs yet begin to issue from her mouth. I drop down to the floor beside her, pushing the chair back so that I can squeeze between it and her and wrap my arms around her. I pull her into a tight embrace and she doesn’t fight me. In fact she turns to me, burrows her face into my chest and heaves out her guilt, anger and frustration, soaking my t-shirt within seconds. I kiss the top of her head and rock her like a child while she just cries and cries.

After a long while she slowly stops crying and disentangles herself from my embrace. She doesn’t pull completely away, just out of the hug. She’s still sitting on my lap, staring intently at her hands which are clasped in front of her.

“Thank you Spike.” She says quietly. “Thank you for listening, for not throwing me out as soon as I was finished spilling my guts. I feel better, but I know I said some things about you that you don’t want to hear, so I’ll go.”

I sigh deeply as she speaks. She says she feels better and no doubt she does, right now. However the very fact that she still isn’t looking me in the eye and she’s talking about leaving tells me that crying her problems out wasn’t enough. Deep down she still believes every word she said, no matter how she may think she feels now. Her relief is temporary. I am determined that she will not carry all this around until she reaches the point of suicide again.

I place a finger under her chin, turning her face to me. When our eyes meet I ask quietly.

“Buffy. Think very carefully about your answer to this question. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She answers immediately. Which is some progress at least.

I sit her on the chair I vacated when I started to comfort her and go to the fridge. I pull out a cold bottle of water. She’s cried and sweated so much in the time she’s been here that I want to make sure that dehydration doesn’t set in. She needs to be fighting fit if I’m to help her truly get over her problems. I give her the water and tell her to drink it all. I stroke her hair from her face as she drinks it all in one go. Our eyes meet briefly and she gives me a whisper of a smile before looking away. When she’s done drinking I take the bottle and set it aside.

“One more time just to be sure.” I say. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” She says, full eye contact this time.

For a second I close my eyes. This train is off and running again. I don’t think this part will be quite so rough once Buffy gets what I’m doing, but I have to make sure we lay all these issues to rest. Desperate to help her completely confront her problems, I launch myself back into the game. I let my demon face rise and I snarl as I yank her off the chair and almost throw her into the middle of the room.

“Then get back on your knees my little bitch. We’re far from done here.”

TBC…….. if you’re still with me





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