secondchancesFic

I'm hanging up the phone, numbed with this onslaught of emotion. I can't believe that after all I've put him through, Giles still hasn't written me off. He was wary, every word laced with caution, but he was still Giles. I'm blinking hard, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, refusing to think about redemption and its many implications and how many second chances one person can get.

Trudging back to my cell, I'm thanking God that my reputation for being a psycho means that I'll never have a roommate. I need time alone to think about the whiskey smooth reassurance of Gile's voice asking me how I'm doing, whether I'm ready for visitors, wondering if I'm holding up okay, bringing a breath of all things I miss about freedom. That concern of his matter, for more reasons than anyone could possibly understand.

I know I shocked B, way back when she first dragged me into that high school library, and I voiced my admiration for her Watcher. He radiated love and curiosity and most of all sheer concern, and I could have drowned in my envy of her. She had it all, as much as any Slayer could, and more than any Slayer should expect. But she took it all for granted, and that made it even harder for me.

one part of me just wants to tell you everything
one part of me just needs the quiet
and if I'm lonely here, I'm lonely here
and on the telephone,
you offer reassurance
I will not take these things for granted

It wasn't supposed to be like this. There wasn't supposed to be this pain and fear and rage. Those few days before it all came tumbling down, Boston was mine. I walked the moonlit streets, and for the first time, there was someone by my side who thought that I *mattered*. Pretty heady for someone who had spent most of her life hoping that she wouldn't be noticed.

Then I f**ked up and I was alone again, running so fast that I never even noticed that I was running on empty. I wasn't ever the one that mattered again, forever trapped in someone else's shadow.

I gotta confess that I toyed with the idea of trying to seduce Giles. B and her little gang of Scoobies would have been fluttering around in shock at the thought. They never would have understood that I'd have gladly traded my body for one of his hugs, to be wrapped up in his aura of safety. I'd like to think that I fought that urge because of some deepset notion of morality, but it was far more basic than that. If he had held me once, I could never have dealt with the eventual letting go.

how can I hold the part of me that only you can carry
it needs a strength I haven't found.
but if it's frightening, I'll bear the cold.
and on the telephone,
you offer warm asylum
I'm listening
flowers in the garden, laughter in the hall
children in the park,
I will not take these things for granted

How many times did he try like mad to get B's attention? She danced on protocol and laughed at the rulebook, always doing things her own way. Hell, when she got him kicked out of the council, did she get the Watcher Goon Squad? F**k no, *she* got a *father's love*.

I hated the way they all looked at me, condemnation etched in each of their faces. There was only room for a little of their holier than thou judgment though, because it had to share space with their disgust, their fright, and in one or two cases, their pity. I fed off of it, latched even tighter onto my Mayor, because in his eyes, I saw myself reflected, and I was tall, powerful and most of all, fearless. For the first time since *my* watcher died, I wasn't lonely.

There are a million things they'd never understand about my deal with the Devil, most of all the fact that I was warm and loved for the first time in years, maybe for the first time in my life. When he smiled at me, as I twirled in peach silk,not demanding my body, only my loyalty, maybe I wished it was someone else's beaming pride, but I'd spent my whole life bitterly resenting my secondhand status. At that point, I just reveled in the fact that I was the one who was adored.

I hate that B will never understand that the Mayor was more than just evil to me. He was my Giles, the one that loved *me* unconditionally. She had the real article, so she's spoiled in a way that she'd never think to understand. Maybe I'm just bitter, but what I do know is, I'd never take Giles for granted.

to crawl inside the wire and feel something near me
to feel this accepting
that it is lonely here, but not alone
and on the telephone,
you offer visions dancing
I'm listening
music in the bedroom, laughter in the hall
dive into the ocean, singing by the fire
running through the forest
and standing in the wind in rolling canyons
I will not take these things for granted

I taunted them all, disguising my loneliness as hatred and arrogance, as I laughed in their well meaning faces every chance they gave me. But this time, now that everything is stripped away, I'm tired of the anger, tired of the resentment, and I'm willing to settle for secondhand, second best.

One day soon, I'll walk down that dusty grey hall and see him. I don't know what I'll say, I'm certain of that, but as I switch off the walkman, and burrow down into my scratchy blankets to block out the excess noise and light, I can almost taste that freedom and security.

I know that Gile's visit means another chance, and the fact that I didn't have to trade my body or soul to get it makes it all the more valuable. I know I'll lull myself to sleep tonight with the fantasy of just walking up to Giles and asking for a hug. And even, maybe, getting it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

End