Haunted

by Trixie Firecracker

Disclaimer: Joss owns them, I do not. I make no money off of these fics
Rating: PG
Feedback: *sigh* *sends reader a withering look* are you kidding me? Do you think I do this for the non-existent cash??? No, I do it because of the joy of changing Buffy and Angel's history to my liking, and for the feedback!
Distribution: if you already have my fics, go ahead. If not, send me the URL for your site and it's all yours
Cate: POV, B/A
Summary: Buffy's feelings during that dream scene in "Dead Man's Party"
Author's Notes: that is one of my favourite scenes. I've never been sure why. It's just so haunting and surreal. Loved it, and always cry when I watch it. I'm slipping in lines from poems that I can imagine coming into Buffy's head randomly as she dreams. They will be in brackets.
Poems: "I say to you Idols", "Bukowsky's Widow", "You", "Freedom" all by Jewel


As I walk through the school, I am aware that I'm alone. But I look. For Willow, for Xander, for Cordy and Oz. The halls roar with silence, and I peek into the library.

No one is here. No one will ever be here. Everything is still and a cool breeze swishes across my bare back. I don't know how I'll be able to find them. But I have to. I have to get this back. I have to regain my life, somehow. (I am not from here)

Walking down the steps to the courtyard, I glance to the side as he walks towards me. That's when I realize this is a dream. For he comes from the sunlight, to the shadows. From my world into his. I watch him with my frightened eyes and he circles around me, his gaze unflinching. (You with your gentle lightening)

"I thought they'd be here," I murmur, looking around again.

"They are. They're waiting for you," he tells me in a soft tone that makes me want to shudder and weep. How can he still be kind.after what I've done? (I wish you could hold me and soothe what my muscles remember) Why does he come into my dreams with this calmness, this demeanour that scares me with it's blankness?

"Am I dreaming?" I inquire, wanting confirmation. Maybe I'm not. God, I wish I wasn't. I wish Angel and I were together, alone, in the sun. I wish a lot of things. But none matter. (You're done.)

He smiles wryly and inclines his head. "I'm probably the wrong person to ask."

Does he dream in Hell? Or do they only feed him nightmares? Is this really him in my mind, or just an image conjured out of my need to see him? God my head is spinning and my stomach is heaving. Everything is hazy and silent, the sound of our shoes tapping against the courtyard the only thing I can hear.

"You better go."

Why? Can he not stand to be near me anymore? And go where? Doesn't he get that there isn't anywhere but with him? That my life means nothing unless he is there? I can't go. If I leave now I might not see him again. I can't be normal anymore. If I jump back into my old life then what does that say? It would be like Angel meant nothing.(walk with the forgotten, for we are the living)

But he did.

He did. I know he did. He was here. He kissed me and held me. He existed. If I close my eyes I can still taste the salt of his lips before I killed him. I can still feel the muscles in his arms clenching as he grabbed me and embraced me close. I know he was real, but if I go back into my old life like nothing happened, what am I then?

A bitch. A traitor. That Slayer. That Buffy. A girl who killed her lover. That's what I am. I accept it. I know it.

"I'm afraid," I tell him quietly, my voice faltering. He looks down at me and nods.

"You should be."

His voice is a little harsh, just a little angry. Maybe he wants me to be afraid, terrified, haunted. Isn't that what he's doing? Haunting me? Showing me what I've done? That I took away his soul, his life, his undead heart.that I was the one who plunged a sword into his chest and sent him straight to Hell? I wish now that I had done the same to myself. Because Hell could not be worse than this.

I don't glance back as I walk away. He does not follow and I feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. I keep going, forging ahead.

Maybe I am moving on. Maybe I can do this. (Having mutilated and freed myself.)

So why do I want to throw up? Why do I want to turn and run and hold him.why do I want to say 'I'm sorry', 'I love you', 'Please forgive me'. Do I think those things could make it better? That it would make him love me again?

I know he hates me and I don't blame him.

Angel hates me and I deserve it.

(now you're gone and time is all I have left)

The End

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