"It has been long and bony
Since your willing ways
Since those thirstful days
Of summer nights
And burning beds" – Jewel

It is a July and I'm tired. Sunnydale is sweaty and disgusting, and my clothes stick to my back in wet patches. Willow called today and asked why I never do things with them anymore besides research. I didn't have an answer for her. I said all the right things- and she was placated- I think- and then I went into my room and locked the door so I could stare at the wall for a long time. Sometimes I do that when I think I'm going to cry. Mom knocks on the door, but I ignore her- and eventually I hear her sigh and leave.

I go to the gym and work out. Lots of muscle-men smirk at me until they see what I can bench. And then they look sort of scared and impressed. Stupid guys. Doesn't take much to freak them out. My skin rushes with adrenaline as I kick box for a while, the tendons in my arms aching with satisfaction. Every time I hit the bag I pretend it's him. He's been gone for twenty days and I think I need to get a drink of water. My throat hurts.

At night I toss and turn and dream of ugly things. When I wake up the huge purple bruises underneath my eyes remind me of his tattoo. I don't know why. Sometimes I'll see a bird swooping in the endless sky and imagine the breadth of his back, and then I have to swallow and concentrate on my breathing. A few days ago when we were all researching at Giles'- some new demon- Xander made a gesture that reminded me of him and his slight half smile and I had to go to the bathroom and throw up. Everyone asked me what was wrong and I said it was a stomach bug and they believed me. Maybe I am a good liar.

In the morning I walk to the mansion. I never want to go there, but I get pulled. Flowers grow outside, and I look at them with detached interest, wondering if he would have liked their colour. My ears buzz, and I think he is like a bee, stinging my flesh, my lips, over and over, until I scream- but he still doesn't stop. I remember his kiss and his fingers and want to shout and heave and crumple to the dirt. Instead I walk inside and go into his old room. He left the blanket on the bed- almost as if he knew I'd be back. Nice gesture. I tear it off and stare at the flimsy remains of fabric- where we used to lie after patrol and talk and sleep and be two people in love. I stare at it and feel tears in the back of my throat. Lighting a match, I drop it and watch the last vestige of our stupid doomed affair burn into ashes.

As it crumbles into dust, no longer threads- I smile- I smile and laugh and touch the flames, my flesh scorching. But I don't feel it. I don't feel anything.

~~~

It's the middle of July and I can't sleep anymore. Sometimes I go to the Bronze until really late, and I dance and drink, hoping that my eyelids will get drowsy, but they never do. Guys pull at me when we twirl, and my skirt bunches around my hips. Sometimes I think I see him lurking on the edges of the floor, like the ghost he always was, and I feel tired and sore and everything a Slayer shouldn't feel but does. Especially when her lover turns the pointy end of the stake around and slams it into her heart- as if it's repayment. You killed me… so I'm killing you. Die, bitch. Die cause I love you and I can't love you… can I?

Often I dream of big scenes, recriminations and forgiveness. Usually there's running and screaming and kissing and desperate sweaty sex. When I wake up, I'm wet and furious and then I want to cry but I never do. My throat gets hoarse from all the shouting, from all the times I turn to him and yell that he's ruined my life and that I'm alone, alone, alone… and he always looks at me like he doesn't know me. Blank. But it's still him. Just him. So I put up with the dreams. I even cherish them. It means he's still there- in my belly- in my brain- and he can't get out. I think it's bad that I live to sleep. But I need to sleep. For a long, long time. Enough to get my fill, to become swollen with him- with remembrances.

Willow and Xander are worried about me now. Xander looked at my ribs yesterday and said I was getting too skinny. He tried to take me to McDonalds. But he's been gone for thirty days and I can't eat. I need a new body. I imagine the freedom of climbing into one that's never been touched by him or filled with his come- and I want to weep, because it's impossible. It's damn stupid to even want it.

Willow took me out the other day, and we shopped. She talked about Oz a lot and I started to resent her, which made me feel terrible. Her voice is soft with love and it makes me feel sick. I want to throw up, but I choke it back and listen to her as I thumb through racks of black clothes- wondering if I should be wearing the funeral colours. Didn't wives do that when their husbands died- a long time ago…? It occurs to me that he's not dead, he's just away, but that hurts even more, so I stop thinking and go to try on a black dress. It feels good against my skin, like proof, and I buy it, secure in the knowledge that they used to do this, and I'm not crazy. Willow looks at me strangely, but doesn't say anything. She has no words left.

~~~

It's the end of July and I wear black all the time. The summer is hot and long, and my head gets fuzzy sometimes from the sun. Mom tells me to stop wearing my new favourite colour because it absorbs the heat. I just laugh and ask if she even *knows* what's in fashion lately? She thinks I sound like my old self and is pleased.

I give in and call him. He gave Giles his number for emergencies and he doesn't think I know. But I do and I dial the numbers with trembling fingers, feeling curiously ill. He doesn't answer and when I hang up the phone wobbles and crashes into the desk. Mom calls someone to fix it and I joke I'm getting arthritis early. She doesn't laugh- just looks concerned. She comes into my room and strokes my hair and tells me if I need to talk- she's there.

I stare at the wall so I won't cry and shake my head, saying, "I'm fine, Mom. I'm just tired."

Afterwards I clean my room and make sure everything looks spotless. It helps a little. The smell of the Windex tickles my nose and I stare up at the ceiling, my vision blurring for a moment. He's been gone for forty days and it's going to be a sunny day. My room needs a paint job. I think longingly of the winter, when the air conditioner breaks, wishing for cool air and slight wind. This town is going to suffocate. I hope so. I hope it drowns in the muggy oxygen so I can just sleep.

The cemeteries are quiet when I patrol. No one comes with me anymore and it's all right, because I'm not very good company. Every time I turn a corner I see a gravestone we used to rest against, or grass we trod upon and I feel like he's stained this place in a way I can't wash off. I wonder if when thousands of years have passed- he'll come back to this place. If it'll even be standing- if it'll be desert, or water. I wonder if he'll sob out his pain and see my face in the stars. I think this should make me feel better- but it doesn't. I just feel empty and start to hunt, looking for prey, because they all hide from me now. Maybe it's the wrath of a woman scorned- they can feel it burning off me- and stay away. *That* makes me feel better. At least I can still bring some vampires to their knees.

Briefly I ponder on all the women in the past who have succumbed to their deaths after their lovers leave them in one way or another. Juliet, Heloise, Ophelia… and I wonder, could I be like them? Drown myself in despair… watch from the sky as he holds my wet and cold body in his arms and screams and rages and yells at me- "Why did you do it?"

I think I couldn't. Maybe because I still have hope that he's going to realize his mistake and come back. It's the only bright light.

~~~

Now it's August and I'm not eating or sleeping or laughing. I just slay and yesterday Giles almost shook me in his anger, finally breaking and yelling at me.

"What's the matter with you?"

I stared at him with blurry eyes and shook my head. "Nothing. I'm tired."

He looked helpless and hopeless and I feel sorry for him.

"I promise I'll get better," I reassured him and he looked wary.

"I don't know if you will, Buffy." His voice was quiet and I got angry, my mouth spitting fire.

"What do you expect? I'm trying! I'm trying to be what you want. Don't you want me to forget?"

"Forget what?" he inquired and I felt the hot ache, the rush of vomit in my throat and bit my lip until I tasted blood.

I wanted to say his name. So badly I could almost feel it dripping from my tongue. Tears burned my eyes suddenly. "No one. I'm sorry. I'll do better," I repeated. "I'll get better." He didn't believe me but he said nothing. I wouldn't have believed me either.

But I do start trying. I go out with Willow, Oz and Xander. I laugh at their jokes and start to quip again. That's when I realize the secret. All I have to do is hide myself away. It's funny I didn't think about it before. After all, isn't that what most people do… they build a wall and don't let anyone in.

Everyone is relieved that I'm back to normal. Mom comments that I'm a faintly brittle, but she's not unhappy. She's glad I seem to be surviving. "You're a survivor, Buffy," she reinforces. "Always have been."

I nod and grin, my white teeth like broken windows to nowhere. "I got the good genes," I inform her. "From you."

She tells me stories about how she felt after my Dad left, and how she got through it. I don't talk to her about him, because my breath gets thick when I do and I can't draw it in properly. She doesn't ask about him and that's fine, I don't want to hear his name. When she talks about Daddy, her voice is wistful, but there's no real pain anymore and I dream of what that's like. Not to feel anything about your former world. God I wish I knew.

~~~

August passes in a haze, and I'm feeling proud of myself for my new countenance. Everyone wants to hang around me and soon school will start. I remember when I told him I'd be near his place either way and want to cry because I wish I could go over there and find him waiting for me with his soft smile. Ready to kiss me and hold me and spin me dreams with his voice. I'm starting to miss him more and more. He's been gone for sixty three days and I need a new life.

~~~

When September becomes, I'm starting to believe I am the person I've become. He calls, and I know it's him- although he doesn't say anything. I say "Hello… Hello…" thinking dizzily of him listening to my voice. It gives me strength, in some strange way, to go on. School is boring, and frighteningly new and I meet people that don't know him and it's a relief.

Soon Parker begins his seductive spell and I listen because I want to. Because I'm dead and I want to be alive. I think I'll sleep with him and let him take me away. Let him be my someone because my other half is gone away.

He's been gone eighty nine days and I think…

I think I'm going to survive.

The new me, I mean. My old self is dead.

She's gone to the stars… and she hopes he'll look for her there.

"The days that I felt like July
and that I to, would soon turn to Fall" - Jewel

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