Bitchee's bits n pieces

Shame on me!

Sat, 24 Jan 2009 18:25:30 GMT

Well Its been a while since I even looked at my livejournal (too busy perusing others) so i though... I'm here might as well comment.
So happy new year to any one that stumbles this way.
I will try to get my crap together one of these days and actually post my fic, I've just got to tear myself away from all the lovely authors that keep distracting me. Hee Hee.

Buffy rant

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 09:31:25 GMT

http://www.youchoose.net/campaign/who_should_buffy_choose.

This is a copy of my rant on you choose... What? it was late/early I was tired you do the math.

Go there and sign the petition for the Buffy movie. NOW!

There are always lots of arguments about who she should choose.
But instead of thinking about the show, try putting yourself in her shoes.

At sixteen you meet a guy that is every girls dream, he's handsome mysterious and exudes an air of tortured wisdom. You fall in love with him (of course) and he falls for you. Then on the night of your seventeenth birthday you sleep together and he loses the soul and your life for the next few months becomes a nightmare because he cant love you without a soul.
Eventually you manage to do the right thing to save the world by sending him to hell. Then he comes back.
You try to have some sort of relationship, but the fact that you can't be together in a physical way tortures you both and in the end he leaves you for your own good.
A while later you go to LA to see him and he gets made human, you are together for one glorious day before he decides that his being human might mean your death so he has the oracles turn the day back so it never happened. Again for your own good.

Then there's this other guy you hate who helped you once for his own benefit. He comes back to town and gets chipped by a government agency and for some bizarre reason he comes to you for help. Time goes by and the guy you hate tells you he loves you, even without a soul. Then he lets himself get tortured by a god to keep your sister safe and tries his best to stop you dying.
Unfortunately he fails, but that still doesn't make him leave cos he's made a promise to protect your sister.
You come back and now he's the only one that you can talk to, but you are broken so you sleep with him to punish yourself. He lets you nearly kill him for trying to hand yourself in to the cops over a murder you didn't commit and you continue to tell him you hate him, but still sleep with him.
In the end you break up with him because you think it's the right thing to do because he doesn't have a soul and you don't want to use him anymore.
He gets drunk, sleeps with someone else and you see it. When he comes to say sorry you tell him you did have feelings but still reject him. He snaps and tries to rape you, but when you kick him off he stops.
He then goes off and gets himself a soul, comes back slightly nuts, but is still the only one that is there for you when everyone else looses faith and kicks you out of your own house. He gives you back your will to fight and asks for nothing in return.
And then when you ask him to be your champion he accepts even knowing he will most likely die for it.
And he does.

So who would you choose?
The guy who left you twice for your own good, who couldn't love you without a soul and never even tried to get the soul anchored or...

The guy who changed his entire nature without a soul. The one who loved you enough to stay no matter what you said or did to him, who kept his promise to watch over your sister even though he was souless and you were dead.
The man who when he hurt you went out and got a soul so it wouldn't happen again, and supported you and believed in you when even your sister didn't.
The man who gave his life so you could finally have a normal life.

Honestly people... in the real world would you want the guy that left you for your own good without even trying to fix the problem, or the one that fell for you despite himself and loved you more than his own existence.

Now how about voting honestly?

Finally

Fri, 02 May 2008 06:00:11 GMT

My fic ,if anyone is interested is posted at both the Spuffy Realm and Elysian Fields, under the name :bitchee
Both of them are Wips's and very long.

Fri, 02 May 2008 05:44:10 GMT

Ok this is my firs attempt at posting a fic with an LJ cut.... fingers crossed.

This is chapter 1 of a challenge from B/S central before it crashed.

Requirements: - post Angel finale - Willow finding an injured Spike, hiding him from Buffy - Buffy is told by a fortune teller Spike is alive - Andrew must burn something in the kitchen - Giles must be upset with Willow - Xander must hit on a girl and fail badly. The fiction MUST be at least 1000 words in length. All entries will be accepted

Type your cut contents here.While you were gone

Brazil 315 am:

The tinny chimes of ding dong the witch is dead reverberated through the small apartment.

“Crap!” Willow swore softly.

She rolled over to answer her cell, which she was sure, had no business ringing this time of the morning.

Grumbling to herself about Slayers and selective deafness, she reached across the form of the slayer in question, blindly fumbling for the phone on the bedside table.

"Hello?”

Kennedy, none too gently, elbowed her in the ribs. Then still dead to the world turned over, mumbling something that sounded to Willow’s not quite awake ears, like “Willow… put the dragon out and come to bed.”

“Huh?” momentarily distracted by her lovers request she blinked owlishly, before remembering that she was holding the phone and had no Idea who was on the other end.

Putting the phone back to her ear she apologised “Uh gee, sorry about that”.

Her apology was met with silence, the faint hiss of the open line the only thing to indicate that someone was on the other end.

Rolling her eyes she grumbled into the phone threateningly.

“Andrew you little dweeb, if your playing stupid pranks again? I’m warning you now, I’ve never turned anyone into a frog long distance before, but for you I’m willing to make the effort.”

Her threat was met by silence, the resulting chill scuttling down her spine leaving her with a heavy sense of foreboding.

Suddenly nervous, she strained her ears waiting for the unknown caller to speak. After listening intently for several seconds she was able to make out what sounded like harsh breathing and even more faintly something she thought might be thunder.

“Andrew?”

She felt the chill of earlier wash over her, even as his name left her lips.

With it came the certainty that this particular call was far from one of the wannabe watcher’s practical jokes.

A moment later her fears were confirmed when a woman’s voice broke the unnerving silence.

“Willow Rosenberg?”

The name was a question, one that had its owner, breaking out in goose-bumps. Cursing the fact that for once she’d actually remembered to charge her dam phone Willow replied.

“Y-Yes, this is Willow. Who is this?” trying to quell the obvious shakiness in her voice she swallowed, hard.

“You are needed here,” stated the voice, command implied in its tone.
“You will come to the city of Los Angeles now” the caller demanded.

“And with the huh?” Willow managed to reply, trying to fight the urge to slam her cell closed.

Even as the Willow part of her quailed under the arrogance in her mystery caller’s voice, the witch in her was roused. With relief, Willow felt her inner geek recede as power flared in annoyance.

“Look Missy… I don’t know who the hell you think you are ringing this time of the morning, or how you know my name, but there is no way…”

““Hey Red” interrupted a familiar voice.

The fact that the voice was male and supposedly dead had Willow completely lose the thread of what she’d been saying.

“S-Spike?” she squeaked, her heart suddenly leaping into her throat.
“Spike” she stuttered “Is- is that you?”

“Yeah s’me pet,” the very lost and weary voice replied.

“B-But you’re dead…The Hellmouth and…and Buffy told us… and you’re dead!” she repeated, confusion and wonder warring in her tone.

“Still dead luv… just not quite as dead as you all thought,” rasped Spike, erupting into a harsh coughing fit.

Willow was alarmed to realise; even as her brain was trying to come to terms with the fact that she was talking to a twice dead man. That she was still, thanks to her years on the Hellmouth, able to identify the bubbling noise underlaying his coughing, as lungs filling with blood.

“Bloody hell that hurt!” he cursed.

And if she hadn’t been sure it was him before, she was now.

“Oh my Goddess Spike it’s really you... Where are you? …. Where have you been… does Buffy know?”

“NO, Bloody hell… No” Pain filled voice, full of panic, he growled.

“And don’t you go telling her either Red or I swear, dying or not, Ill bloody well eat ya.”

“But Spike,” she started, only to be interrupted by another coughing fit.

“Listen Red…Can’t explain now, least not before I pass out again… I need you to come to LA ….to the Hyperion… Angel’s old place”

“But…”

“No buts Red, you’re my only hope. You can’t tell the others nothing… specially not Buffy…Look, I gotta go ... the pain… its…”

Willow heard the thud of something soft and the clatter of the receiver as it fell to the floor, then moments later the soft scrape as it was picked up.

“Spike? Spike are you there?” she gasped, heart racing. “Oh Goddess Spike… what the hell is going on down there?”

Willow found herself clamping her teeth together; hard enough to make her jaw ache, as the cold voice from earlier met her frantic entreaty.

“The vampire is unconscious and can not speak Willow Rosenberg” informed the still unknown woman, her tone devoid of emotion.

“I believe that he may end soon.” The voice paused, the inflection changing with its next words.

“The shell’s memories suggest that the vampire must have your help if he is to survive. Do as I command and come, or I will wreak my vengeance upon you and all you hold dear.”

Willow shuddered. The voice was hard steel and pure power, her threat striking fear into Willows heart in a way she hadn’t felt for a very very long time.
However, it was the words spoken next that struck the deeper chord.

Willows heart clenched, both with the sentiment behind the words, and the familiar name.

“I grieve still for Wesley; I do not wish to feel grief for one who is no more to me than a pet”

She paused briefly and once again Willow could make out the distant sound of thunder.

“The white haired one... Spike... he must continue, I Illyria command it.
You will do this thing… Please”

Shockingly, with that one word the voice changed, and Willows world spun on its axis.

The voice softened, all the former arrogance fleeing, leaving only the familiar tones of a voice Willow new well, confirmed chillingly by the soft hint of Texan twang.

“Wesley would have wanted y’all to help Spike”, she entreated.
“OH GOD Willow. I-I think Angel is dead …and Gunn is gone too. But I can’t think about that now... Please Willow y’all just have to come. I don’t know what ta do... I-I think he’s dyin’ and I can’t stop the bleeding. An I can’t lie to him the way I did for Wes…God Willow I don’t know who I am… where I am…”

The voice Willow recognised as Fred’s broke down, leaving the witch holding the receiver in a tightly clenched fist.

Ok, I am officially wigged, came the irrelevant thought. Talk about a Sybil moment.

“F-Fred is that you?” She managed to stutter, her mind spinning with questions she had no way to answer.

There was no reply other than the noise of someone gasping for air between hiccuping sobs.

“Fred?”.

She gasped, trying to control her frightened breathing. “Answer me damn it, what the hell is going on over there?”

“I… You must come” was the sudden statement, the crying stoping as if it had never been.

“We are fractured,” a voice out of time and place moaned, harsh and alien then soft and human.

Two different beings using the same throat, cold steel then warm honey all wrapped around each other so there was no way to tell where one started and the other left off.

“This shell…I am weak… She is gone but she is not… and-and… the grief it feeds her ability to be…Oh my Wesley… my Wesley” the voices cried, before once again falling silent.

Willow was now beyond cold, her teeth chattering so hard it was making her jaw ache again.

The voices, were most definitely Freds, but at the same time she knew that they weren’t.

Not completely.

Her mind was turning over a thousand possibilities, none of them good.

Stubbornly, her brain kept returning to the fact that Spike was there with whomever the hell this creature... thing was, and that he was somehow alive and she…no…they, all owed him so much.

And there it was, that feeling she got just before she did a spell that she knew was going to work…That she knew was right.

“Hang on Fred, you just hang on. Tell Spike I’ll be there as soon as I can.
Tell him not to worry, I have the things I need…and… and that I won’t tell Buffy.
At least” she amended, biting her lip nervously. “Not till I see him.
“But you make sure Fred…”

“Illyria”

The single clipped word interrupted the Witches instructions.

Gone was the familiarity of the shy Texans tone, replaced by an alien hardness that instantly stopped Willow cold.

“I am Illyria God King of the primordia ... there is no Fred …she is gone… her shell, now mine!

I am here…I will watch over him until you come.
But mark me witch”, the voice hissed. “You will not fail him.

I am less than I was, but I am Illyria. I ruled long before human pestilence crawled upon this plain. Be warned willow Rosenburg, if he dies I will rip your living entrails from your body”.

Willow shivered as the cold she was feeling intensified, and in that moment she was beyond sure that, the being on the other end of the phone could and would carry out the threat.

She knew with a terrifying certainty deep in her bones, that the distance between them was no impediment. That if she failed to do as the God King demanded, she would die… painfully.

It was all there in her voice, hers was no idle threat… just absolute arrogant certainty.

Shaking in reaction at her frightening realisation, she grasped for a lifeline, the one thing that she had always been able to count on, her magic.

Calling up her own inner strength, before she found herself giving into her dread, Willow concentrated hard and brought her magic to the fore.

“Enough”, she commanded, voice filled with the power of the all mother Gaia, the earth.

“I do not need threats to make me do this Fr-Illyria… whoever the hell you are"

Willows voice turned solid and steady now that her decision had been made.

“I will be there within the hour… The Hyperion hotel front foyer… be sure it’s clear. I will be teleporting, and I would rather not end up as part of a couch.”

The last was said wryly in a much more normal tone as Willow released the borrowed power back to the place she’d taken it from.

The magic had cleared her mind and her fear, centring her so she could do this without failing. More importantly, it helped to control her fear about what she was going to find when she got there.

The response was anticlimactic and short.

“It will be as you wish, Willow Rosenberg. I will be waiting” and the connection was cut.

Replacing the receiver Willow muttered under her breath.

“Somehow that doesn’t help.”

It took Willow only minutes to write a note for her sleeping lover, and
gather the things she needed.

Her conscience twinged a bit over the note.

She had told Kennedy not to worry, that she had been called away on coven business.

Willow knew that her possessive girlfriend was less likely to wonder what was going on if her absence wasn’t council related.

She then retreated to her meditation room and set up what she needed for the spell.

As she worked, she ran the conversation with Spike and Illyria through her mind.

Even though Spike’s identity wasn’t in question, she was still worried about the possibility of a trap. After all, she was pretty certain, if she had interpreted the God Kings words correctly, that whatever had possessed Fred had obviously not been invited.

Oh well, nothing I can do about it until it happens.

Still, just in case she pocketed a couple of the crystals she had been using to help her focus her defensive magic.

It never hurts to be all boyscouty was her smug thought as she went over the last of the incantation needed to allow her to transport herself to LA.

Finally her preparations were done.

Well Will this is it. Fingers crossed.

She stepped into the circle and started to chant.

“Spirits of the earth I entreat thee, she began.

Guide your most faithful daughter, along the secret paths

Give my eyes the power to see that which is hidden

Grant strength to my soul as it crosses the threshold

Mother I humbly beg your favour

Carry this penitent to the time and place of her choice.

Her arms rose beseechingly as she called out her final line.
”By Gaia’s will let the west door be opened.”

With the words said, she traced the image of the glyph she needed in the air. Concentrating, she waited until it glowed with the otherworldly blue light that signified the Mother was listening.

Bowing her head in thanks, she took a deep steadying breath.

Now for the tricky bit…

“With Hecates’ blessing I walk between the veils,” she intoned, tracing another symbol to ask for permission and protection.
To her relief the glyph burned red briefly, indicating that permission had been granted.

Reassured, Willow raised her hands once more to call out a word of power. Bringing her arms down together sharply, with palms face out, she once again bowed her head and waited.

A line of white fire grew from the apex of her gesture to the floor and with one last word and gesture it was done.

“Open” she commanded throwing her arms wide.

The light flared, becoming dazzling in its brilliance, before splitting in two and parting like the doors to an otherworldly elevator.

Wow…Just like the twilight zone, thought the witch irreverently, as she stepped through the doorway, and out into the lobby of the Hyperion.

There was a brief flash of white behind her, and then Willow became aware that she was not alone.

“You will come with me Willow Rosenberg” ordered the voice, the speaker veiled from Willows sight by the shadows.

Willow reached into her pocket and clasped one of the crystals she had brought, preparing to defend herself.

“Show your self,” she barked out, keeping her breathing deep and even as she gathered power to herself, just in case.

“You waste time Witch… time put to better use, but I will acquiescence to your demand this once.”

When Illyria stepped out of the shadows, Willow could not help the gasp that left her lips.

She had always found Fred attractive, but the being standing before her had a beauty and grace that Fred could never have owned.

Willow, could feel the power coming off her from where she was standing meters away, and the alien blueness that should have repulsed, only made Willow wonder if the skin all over her body was the same shade.

Pinned by the gaze of a Demon, she flushed with sudden warmth

Bad Willow, bad, she scolded herself.

“Ok so I’m here. Where’s Spike?” she demanded, trying to get her mind to focus on the situation and not the way Illyria’s body armour hugged her in all the right places.

“He is upstairs. You will hurry now and repair him.I wish to do more violence and find myself unwilling to leave my pet while he is still damaged”.

“Okayyy”… Willow drawled, trying to control her sudden amusement at Illyria’s bluntness.

“Well Ill see what I can do for him… but If he’s not dust I think it’s safe to say that he’s probably gonna be all right.”

Illyria turned her head to meet Willow’s gaze, eyebrow quirked in a curiously familiar gesture.

“That may be so Witch, but you have not yet seen him.”

Willow nodded noncommittally before following the former God king up the stairs.

Goodbye?

Mon, 31 Dec 2007 03:54:05 GMT

New years resolution... Lose weight and finish at least one WIP that I have on the go. I'll tackle the smoking thing next year.

HELP!

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 10:40:32 GMT

Yay I have a beta!

Sqee! my first time

Wed, 12 Sep 2007 17:01:10 GMT

I made my first icon.... go me.
Ok so no big deal to most.. But as old as I am, with the computer skills I don"t have I'm feeling pretty dam accomplished.
Going for a manip next... Desktop maybe?

First fic! Shattered

Sat, 08 Sep 2007 16:44:02 GMT

Shattered

Twilight drowns the tears.....
This soul can no longer shed

And darkness buries that same soul…..
Within the blackness of night’s bed

A thousand nights of pain and death….
Of fear, voices begging for peace

These are the things I would endure……
For just one quiet moment of release

Beneath her evil soulless monster….
Words to make a soul writhe and bleed

Drowning in memories of her pain…..
As soulless evil, overtakes loves need

Shattered trust like shattered tiles…..
Gasping pain and betrayal in her eyes

Burdened with a thousand thousand deaths
But nothing so cruel as her cries

Gone now the hope of the man…..
Killed by the unworthiness of the thing

Kept company by past faces full of truth…..
Welcome for the pain they bring

To die a blessing but death a gift…..
That this creature does not seek

Hell would be a blessing of torment…..
But this soul trapped inside is weak

Haunted by the pasts voices….
Madness my friend in the harsh light of day

I pray it take and enfold me, cradled in insanity….
I beg of them, please stay

For moments or hours I find stillness….
Within the pasts twisted embrace

But to soon I am lost as my soul it cries out…..
With the memory of her face

To stay and remember, listen to her words….
The gift of her scorn filled hate

More fitting punishment than any self derived torture….
From my newly souled state

What is real and what is false…..
neither darkness or the light show the truth

But blood on my hands and copper on my tongue…
And a song long gone as proof

The voices they tell me that soon it will be time..
For the dance that does not end

But for now the darkness will shelter me….
And madness will be my only and willing friend.

The vampire lay on the makeshift bed made of things that humans threw away.

Soiled rags and old drop cloths, and even an old worn carpet that he’d scavenged from somewhere during his infrequent trips to the world above.

He tossed and turned fitfully clutching desperately at the vestiges of sleep that still lingered, his mind trying to dive back into the safety of the horror of his dreams rather than face the despair of wakefulness.

Spike didn’t know much these days, and what he did know was confusing and disjointed but he knew one thing no matter how insane the soul had made him.

HE HAD HURT THE GIRL…

It was a constant mantra in his head every time he was conscious, and with the knowledge also came the pictures in his head.. the ones that made the guilt and pain of 120 years of mayhem and destruction pale in comparison.

God he was so fucked… He had killed and maimed more people than he could remember….

Hell every time he closed his eyes his victims would parade before him a long and silent streaming line of the dead…. His dead… all of them so clearly defined in his memory that it was as if he was still with them… killing them…over and over and over.

Until the faces and the screams and the begging all ran together into one cacophonic cry of pain and fear, that forced him gasping for unneeded breath from the ever cycling nightmares.

And that was when the real horror began… that was when he remembered he’d HURT THE GIRL….

At first he didn’t know who it was that his soul was telling him he’d hurt, but after his first wound based delirium had faded the memory flashes had gotten clearer.

White tiles and the sharp smell of fear…. Cries of pain and quiet desperate words…

ASK ME AGAIN WHY I COULD NEVER LOVE YOU….

And finally the memory… the knowledge that he had tried to rape the woman he loved… tried to rape Buffy.

As his body grew stronger healing itself of the wounds he’d gathered on his dammed quest, his mind grew weaker…. Less able to stand the battering of the souls grief at his actions.

But it wasn’t the dreams when he slept that were destroying him, or even the visits from the creature that pretended to be both friend and foe…Hell he was insane not stupid… he could still sense when he was being played and manipulated…

No it wasn’t any of those things…. it was the memory of the hatred in her eyes as he pinned her to the bathroom floor… trying to force her to feel something that he had no business… no right to expect.

Not even the knowledge that he’d been an unsouled evil demon with no conscience could banish the agony of his guilt over what he had done to Buffy…

It didn’t matter cos HE HAD HURT THE GIRL….

So Spike rocked and keened and prayed for a visit from the evil that so often came to taunt and tease… whispering and cajoling him…. trying to control and seduce him… cos when it was with him the pictures faded and the horror of what he’d done to her… to his love.. receded, leaving him with nothing more than his simple somehow cleansing insanity.

Today she’d been Drusilla… taunting him with the kills they’d shared, and then Darla, her contempt raining down on his head like she had done so many times when he was first turned.

He had cringed and writhed under the regard of these lies that wore familiar faces, but found himself praying that whatever the creature was that was playing with him would stay just a little longer…. Lie to him a little more… anything so he could avoid the memory of white tiles and the feel of soft struggling flesh, bruised by the monster who could never be a man.

So he shivered and cowered and played the game, and even when it appeared as her he stuck to the script…. knowing in his heart of hearts that this was not his death that paced the room and spat hard and final truths at him….

He cried and whimpered and played the part perfectly as the Buffy shaped thing spouted words that he barely understood, he used her image as a shield to protect himself from the horror of what he’d done….

Cos after all this wasn’t real… nothing was real… only the guilt and the pain was real… only the slayer could touch him now.

And this was not Buffy…. Cos his life was hers for the taking and this thing had not taken it….

Not even now… when she’d touched him.

She closed the door to her room and lent against it for a moment, trying to catch her breath that she’d somehow left behind in the dark maze under the high school.

He had come back… and every thing she thought she would feel was absent.

Somewhere deep down inside where the slayer resided when she wasn’t dealing death…. She was angry…. Very angry.

But here in her mind and Heart the reality that was just a girl… just Buffy, was glad…. so very very glad.

She’d looked into those piercing blue eyes that she’d last seen holding her down on the floor of her bathroom and somehow the girl had over ruled the slayer…

He was back… he’d come back… and she knew now, with that sort of oft ignored barely tolerated inner sense, that he was back for good… for her… because of her.

And that he would never leave her again.

She’d left him of course… mad and raving… down there in the bowels of the new High school.

Left him because for now she needed to be away from the promise she could see in his eyes, even overlaid by the madness.

She left him because if she hadn’t she might never be able to again… and she wanted.. NO… needed time.. time to reconcile the woman and the slayer to the fact that he had left her like all the others ,but unlike them he’d come back.

Not because she was in trouble…. not out of duty… not because of a mission…

No this soulless demon…. this man, who should not be able to love or feel guilt had come back for no other reason than HER.

The moment she’d entered his crypt needing him to watch over her sister… the moment she’d realised he’d done what she never thought he’d do… that was the moment for her that she’d finally given in to the shame and the sorrow.

Not over what he’d done to her….

NO never that…

But what she’d done to him, she’d finally forced him to do the one thing that not even her death had achieved…

She'd made him leave.

No matter what they thought or said, no matter how harsh their words… not even Dawns anger or shock could shake her from the knowledge that what had happened in the bathroom between them had been a violation of love and trust… just not hers.

She had taunted him and abused him, beaten him and fucked him….

Hidden their affair from every body.

Played games with his head and his heart all in the name of fear.

She had gone to him and given him a taste of what was to him by his own words, the closest to heaven he’d ever get… and then watched calmly while her ex boyfriend, a man who had cheated and left, destroyed his home and the last of his hope for them.

And even then she couldn’t resist digging the knife in just a little deeper….

She’d gone to him later… treated him like the man she’d always denied he was… and ended it.

And still it wasn’t enough for her…

NO not the great and mighty slayer…

He’d come to her to apologise… to talk, because he’d had the bad judgment to sleep with another woman for solace and comfort.

And what had she done?

She’d given him the crumb… the one he’d begged for, so long before….

And then after saying those few words that she knew would give him hope… she’d deliberately crushed that hope… practically in the same breath.

Of course he’d attacked her…. tried to make her feel… Hell she’d been the one to tell him that he was the only one that could.

Even when he was grabbing at her, pleading for her to let him in…. for her to love him….

Even then when she screamed and flailed in panic knowing full well that as the slayer, even injured as she was, she could push him off at any time…

EVEN THEN there was a part of her that was thinking this is it…. this will make him leave…. this has to make him leave.

Oh yeah she was so fucked…

And she’d been right… He’d left.

She’d known the moment she won.. she’d seen it in his eyes after she finally tired of the game and kicked him off.

She’d seen the horror and the guilt…. the anger and the pain, and above all she’d seen his resolve…

The knowledge of his leaving was written large in his eyes as she threw those last final… nail in the coffin words at him.

ASK ME AGAIN.. WHY I COULD NEVER LOVE YOU…

And She’d won, he’d left, and she was alone… finally completely alone.

Of course when she’d gone to his crypt and he’d not been there part of her had been surprised.. after all knowing the truth and accepting it were two completely different things.

And of course she’d had a lot on her mind with Tara dying and Willows descent into madness, so at first she’d felt nothing more than a total sense of betrayal and anger when she realised he had really gone.

Typical fucked up Buffy….

She’d finally driven him out of her life, and she had the gall to actually be pissed he wasn’t around when she needed him….

Oh yeah she was a real hero…

Of course it was only moments before the full realisation had hit her..... and she’d nearly drowned in the grief and pain that came with the realisation that she loved him… and he’d left her.

It wasn’t like Angel, she’d had no time to brood and mourn, no time to rage and curse… she had a world and a sister to save again, and the knowledge of the fact that it was her doing… her that had finally driven him away… well she would think about it later…. And she did.

Much later after the world had been saved… not by her… but by a boy and a yellow crayon..

Later after the dead had been buried and the broken girl that used to be her best friend had been taken away over the sea… then… it was then she faced what she had pushed out of her mind.

Curled up within his duster… the smell of him cocooning her in familiarity, she had cried tears of sorrow and guilt.. for the both of them.

For so many nights she’d lost count, she would go and do her duty, slaying the evil alone in the dark… only to return home to curl up with her memories and regrets wrapped in the last piece of him she had left.

And now he was back… and apparently insane.

Sitting on the edge of her bed she brought the familiar comfort of his duster and scent up to her face, and pondered the fact that she’d done this to him…. she’ the slayer had forced him from her life, and somehow in the process driven him completely mad…. And she had no Idea how to fix it.

Sobbing quietly she rocked for many long minutes, releasing all her pent up grief and relief over the fact that even with all she’d done to him, he still in his madness had found his way home… to her.

Then finally cried out she straightened… and with a resolve that he surely would have applauded she called forth the slayer and gathered herself together.

He was back…. he was insane…. he was dirty and wounded… he was a vampire…

Soulless and chipped but still a vampire and she was the slayer…

And after everything… all that had happened between them… the fights… the pain the sex…. the tears.

None of it mattered, not any of it….

not all her friends dislike, or her watchers condemnation….

Because deep down inside, she was the slayer and she knew her duty… the duty to protect what was hers… to protect those that she loved…she knew what was right and wrong…

And she knew one thing better than she knew any other….

She knew Spike…

And he was hers…

Overdue

Sat, 08 Sep 2007 16:29:43 GMT

Probably wont use this to do much more than store my fic... but you never know!