Disclaimer: "Owner of B/A" thy name is Joss
Rating: PG 15 since this fic is sorta psycho
WARNING: ANGST AHEAD! To all the fluff lovers, you're in the wrong place, so you should probably turn around...
Author's Notes: this is based on my belief that Buffy would've gone slightly crazy after "Becoming Part Two". It sort of follows the Joss storyline and then veers away a bit
Category: POV (Buffy's)

After I killed Angel, I had bruises on my chest. Only I saw them. But they were there. When I left the mansion I felt the weight of the cross he had given me burn heavily on my heart.

Traitor, it breathed. Bitch

I wasn't sure what to do. Should I fall down and die? Should I cease to exist? Shouldn't something be happening.shouldn't the world get a little darker? Anything. Anything to let me know that his death did not go unnoticed.

I want to throw up. But I don't have anything left in my stomach. Nothing but flesh and bone. If I could get rid of that I would. I'd tear it away and leave myself open.leave myself bare. So bare. Without him, all I am is a wasted thing. Waiting to be blown away by the wind.

I wish the wind would blow me away. But a gun would do just fine as well.

The bus sride is long and hot. The woman sitting next to me looks like she's running away from something too. I'm not sure what. There's a bruise on her inner elbow. It's not small. It blankets her skin and is mottled purple and yellow. I think she knows I'm staring at it.

The sun shines when I reach LA. Is that a welcome? Maybe I should say thank you or something. Twice before I can leave the bus station I go to the washroom and throw up. It's like my body wants to rid itself of anything that could sustain me. That's good. I pat my stomach, and feel the concaveness of it. My ribs are sticking out and I don't smile.

Working as a waitress isn't fun. And I think my boss hates me. But that's all right. What do I care? People who come in ignore me. They've had their dreams bruised too, and all they want is a decent cup of coffee. I can empathize and so I make sure to bring the liquid hot. No one likes cold coffee. But still, no one smiles.

When I sleep I have dreams. They're full of light. I like it there. And so I sleep more and more. That isn't hard, since I haven't been eating much and opening my eyes is an effort. Sometimes he comes to me then to. When my eyes are closed and the room is dark.

Nights are when I walk the day with him. We don't say much. What else is there? But his arms are warm and strong and the sun kisses us sweetly. And so I like it there. In the dreams. Cause its where he is. Sometimes I want to go. Where he is.

I'm not sure why. Maybe so I can say I'm sorry. Which seems ludicrous now that I think about it. Sorry for killing you honey? But then again.maybe that's all it would take. For him to forgive me. So I wouldn't have these bruises on my chest.

I don't wear the cross anymore. It burned so I took it off. The weeks are going by but I haven't been thinking about time much anymore. Or about anything else.

Maybe if I could just say I'm sorry.

...Forgive me love

Then he wouldn't hate me anymore. He does hate me. I can feel it in the dreams. He holds me but his breath is hot. His voice murmurs things. And I listen. I have to. I owe him that much at least. Sometimes I laugh at the way my mind works now.

And I don't laugh at much. Anymore.

Send feedback to Trixie Firecracker

Back to the Fanfiction Archive