Conflicting Emotions

Buffy didn’t know why she came. She should hate this place, and him, but somehow she often found herself here anyway, especially when patrol was slow. Two months had passed, making his absence obvious. Flickering candles, the refrigerator’s soft hum, the slight smell of smoke: all had become only memories, replaced by eerie stillness.

Seeing the crypt so lifeless, Buffy wondered how she’d felt comfortable here. Well, actually she knew, but that feeling should be gone now. She should hate him. Instead she sometimes almost missed him, because, despite everything, nothing could be worse than the emptiness he’d left behind.