SERIES : Death Was Her Gift
PAIRING : Faith/Angel, both
POV's
RATING : PG14
SPOILERS : "The Gift"
DISCLAIMER : I do not own these
characters.
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Spike
left a little over two hours ago after we spilled all the tears we could. It's
still not real to me. I don't think it can be. Buffy is gone. Buffy died. I
take a deep breath and maintain my composure.
I have
work to do. There are more people who don't know. I must spread the news.
Most
days it doesn't bother me, being here, that is. Most days it's like a
comfortable blankie on a cold day. Strangely enough, this cell is comfort to
me. Surely it's better than the Hell I created inside myself. I can escape that
Hell by pissing the guards off and taking a beating. I can escape the Hell
inside by not eating for a week or scratching myself up until they take me to
the infirmary and giving me drugs.
Then are
some days when I have to return to that place. It's the only way I can remember
why I'm here and why I don't fight my way out. Those are the days of scratching
and screaming and crying for everything I've done to myself. Those are the days
spent crawling up the walls and banging my head against the cement wall behind
my bed. Those are the days that I remember what I did to deserve this. I hurt
B. I hurt the only person who ever gave a damn about me. I chained her up and
tried to steal her boyfriend. I plotted to kill her and all her friends. And I
was happy doing it.
Those
are the days when forgiveness and hope disappear completely.
Those
are the days I call Angel.
Today is
one of those days.
I'm
happy when they come to get me and take to me the visitors center. I need to
hear his voice. He's the only one who can truly understand. He's the only one
who hurt B more than I did. He's the one who gives me hope that one day B might
be able to forgive me.
I see
her before she sees me. She's got new scratches on her arms and a bruises on
her face. I often wonder if she doesn't purposely goad the guards into beating
her. I think she thinks that she deserves it.
She
calls me on days that she needs help making it. She called this morning and
left a message. We weren't back yet. But now we are and I have to tell her that
the hope of forgiveness that gets her through these days is completely gone.
I reach our
booth and look up at him and Gods his face! His eyes! I scream and crumple to
the floor crying. He doesn't have to say anything. I know. B is dead.
~El Fin~
Onto the next part : Replacement
Back to the Home of Death Was Her Gift
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