| Title: Reflections (Part One) Author: Diamond Tears Rating: Pg.. I think, if I'm wrong let me know.. :-) Pairing: D/S Distribution: Dreaming of You. If you want it just tell me where it's going! Feedback: Bring it on! Summary: Two pieces the first in Dawn's POV The Second in Spike's POV both mourn and reflect on being there for each other Spoilers: Takes place After "The Gift" Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is king of all things in Buffyworld. I am Queen of everything else. Reflections Part 1... It's all to much. That's the only way to put it. To much. I've covered everything in my head. From why the sky is blue to why the monks named me Dawn. Dawn. Sounds happy, pure and simple. Anything but the truth. It's such a stupid name for me. I've brought total darkness to Buffy's friends and almost brought total darkness to the world. What the hell did it mean then? Dawn. Dawn of what? Death and sorrow? How could I have let her jump? The question been running circles in my mind. Ever since I let go of her elbows. I should have held on. Made it harder for her. I should have jumped. Not given her the chance. All things I should have done. All things I didn't do. It's dark outside and I know I should be sleeping. But how do you sleep when you feel like you just killed your sister? I don't know. I just don't know. It's been an awful day. We had to go to the hospital to see the coroner. "Major electric shock," He said. "Possibly from a power source that was high off the ground." Ironic much? Then we had to pick out the casket. Hadn't I been in this room not two months before? For my mother? It don't understand! Why? It's to much. To soon. Who's next? Xander? Willow? Giles? Spike? Spike. Oh god. Spike. He'd fled as soon after I came off the platform. The daylight had chased him away. Poor Spike. He loved her so much. He would have died for her. I sitting staring out at the trees beside my window. Spike. He must hurt so bad. Still thinking of him, my eyes filled with tears I jump off my bed and run across the hall into the bathroom. I never knew why but Buffy always had a stash of stakes under the sink. Turning on the water in the bathtub I hear foot steps on the stairs. Giles knocks on the bathroom door. "Dawn? Are you okay?" I hurry to the window, shoving the stakes into my pocket. Throwing open the window I put my fist through the screen. It feels odd. Like I can feel this power flowing through my veins. And I know it's her. It has to be. I look back at the door. Giles is trying the door knob. It wiggles and shakes as he pounds on the door. I slip my body through the window, onto the roof and away into the night. I've been there enough times to know where I'm going. His crypt isn't far. Just over the hill and past the big mausoleum. Then from the crest of the hill I can see it. Small and out of the way, where no one would bother it. I take off down the hill as the tears fill my eyes. Again. I've cried so much in the past three days I can't let them fall anymore. They've cut paths in my cheeks and dampened the cloth of my jeans. The pain is so intense. The pain in my heart and the pain in my body. The little slits hurt so badly. They hurt almost as badly as everything else. Or maybe that's because their on top of everything else. I feel my heart shatter again when I don't see him standing in the doorway smoking nonchalantly. That's what I love about him. Never a care in the world and never showing them if they exist. I start down the hill suddenly unsure of why I'm here. Do I want him to comfort me or am I wanting to comfort him? It all seems to blend together as I lose myself again. Like I can see me. Around the corner, just ahead. Behind those bushes, beyond these tears. But when I get there I've already moved on. To something different. Now Spike is just beyond this hill and those bushes. Is he going to be there by the time I get there? I try to run faster. My tiny wounds feeling like huge mountains grinding into me. I have to slow down and so I do, wondering if he can sense me yet. He should. Unless he's numb. Like me. Completely numb. I push open the door and look around. He's lying on the floor. His arms out at his sides his face ground into the dirt and grit on the floor. Even seeing him like this it feel better then being alone. For a moment I wonder if he's dead to. Then the irony of that thought hits me. Good one God. I move forward and try not to startle him. I kneel beside his head and smooth his hair softly. The floor around us is a puddle of blood tears and the ground is stained red, evidence of many more. He hasn't moved, I muse to myself. In move to kneel beside him and push him over. I'm small and weak from crying and I don't know how I manage it. But there he is, lying on his back. Covered in blood, sweat and tears. I crawl over to his face, cringing in pain the whole way. "Spike?" He stirs slightly as I brush away the freshest tears. The blood soaks into my finger and I think it looks right there. After all I have my sister's blood on my hands. I stand and rip a piece of my shirt off. Walking over to a small glass of water that's just sitting there I wet it carefully. I move back to him and he's trying to move. "Shhh. I'm here." I feel weird trying to soothe him. I take the wet cloth and wipe the dried blood from around his eyes. His face is soft and bruised so I try to be as gentle as possible. "Nibblet?" His voice is barely above a whisper. It rasps out from his throat and I can barely understand him. "What Spike?" He's so weak it brings more tears to my eyes. Just when I thought I was all out. "Hungry... Blood... in..." "The refrigerator.... shhh.. I'll get it." He coughs slightly as I jump up. I hold myself, reeling in pain. Somehow I make it to the refrigerator and find a packet of blood. I pull the top off and sit down, careful not to spill. He tries to sit up, I slid myself forward and catch his head in my lap as he loses his strength. Holding the packet near his chin I watch his game face come into the front. He bites into the packet and I watch as he drains it. He sucks it dry and leans his head back into my lap. I set the empty bag down and start to clean his face again. At my touch the bumps on his forehead disappear into nothingness. As I finish clearing his face of his tears I feel mine start to flow again. They fall and land unheeded onto his clean cool face. I feel his hands take mine as he struggles to get up. I crumble and cry. I feel his arms around me as the blood restores his strength. He holds me and I can't help this. It's all to much. That's the only way to put it. To much. |