**
I wanted to wake up. I wanted to open my eyes and see what was going on, but my body wouldn�t co-operate. Why was it that every time I wanted to do something, it never worked out? Was I an evil person in my last life? What did I ever do to deserve such torture?
The cold water being splashed onto my face helped to rouse me from my sleep. My hands flew up to block my face from the coming onslaught of cold liquid, but it didn�t help.
Apparently the Chinese use cold water as a strenuous form of torture. The constant dripping of cold water over someone�s head, as they are chained, standing in a room of spiked steel. If the victim tries to move away from the water after it finally breaks their hold on their sanity, they trigger a motion sensor which sends all of the steel spikes in to their bodies.
Perhaps my torturer is Chinese.
The blonde hair says differently.
�Wake up, sleepyhead. I�ve waited long enough to see those eyes.� That sweet, sensual voice that I left the peace of heaven for, made me open my eyes. She�s the reason I didn�t let go when I had the chance. She�s the reason that I didn�t let everything fade.
I could have been free.
But why should I be free when the only person I want, is still held behind the bars of existence? So I chose to fight. I fought death and all of its appealing opportunities and choices.
And here I am.
Lifting a large hand to cup her cheek, I can�t help smiling. I always smile when I see her. My blonde goddess. My wife. My lover. Soon to be the Mother of My Children.
My Buffy.
�Miss me?� I ask.
Those tears come to her eyes, like they always do when I ask that. She worries so much when I shut my eyes to sleep. Some nights, I simply pretend to sleep, to see what she�ll do. She watches me some night, as I sleep, trying to reassure her subconscious fears, that I will wake up again if she shuts her own eyes for just an hour or so.
�Don�t ever leave me,� she whispered, leaning down to kiss me.
Licking my tongue through her honey-sweet lips, I can�t resist repeating the words I always say when she makes that particular request. �I�m a dangerous man, remember? And what�s more treacherous than our love?�
�Nothing.�
And she's right.
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THE END.
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