Dead on the Inside
by Amberina
Disclaimer: This is a fan piece. It was not created or distrubuted for profit. The characters, situations, and music mentioned in this fic belong to their respective creators/companies/etc.
Warnings: Spoilers through "After Life"
Archiving: Just ask.
We all know it should have been me. It
doesn't matter, I guess. She died and it was
my fault. That's old news, I suppose.
And now she's back, though now it's kinda
worse, though its hard to admit that to
myself. Before it was just like, okay, Buffy's
dead. It's your fault. But at least she's in
heaven. I always knew she was in heaven. No
one like her would ever go to hell. The
others were stupid and offensive in assuming
she would. Willow, Tara, Xander, Anya, Giles,
every last one of them. Except for me and Spike. We knew.
But now, she's back and she's in all this
pain, because of what she lost, because of
what they did to her, and that's my fault,
too. And I want her happy again. I long to
see that smile - to have her even notice me.
But she's off doing god knows what to god
knows what demon, and I may lose her again.
And she doesn't seem to care. I think she
wants to die again, and I understand why, but
that doesn't make it hurt any less.
I know that in a way she's still dead, dead on the inside.
And I just want to run up to her and hug
her, cry in her arms and tell her how much I
love her, how much I've missed her.
But I still miss her, because its like she's
not even here. And that makes it hurt even
more. That's what I did to my sister the
hero. That's me, I'm the Key and I'm made for
destruction, which is all well and good until
I destroy my sister. She's gone, and as long
as her body's here, no one notices. They
notice she's a little off, even that she's depressed, sure.
But I don't think they fully understand. They couldn't.
You know that old saying "It takes one to
know one?" I think it's a little like that.
You can't fully recognize it unless you feel it, too.
I've been dead on the inside for a while now.
Since I found out what I was . . . When I
realized that I'm not real. My body's here,
but all I have is memories. I'm dead on the inside.
I wonder if I even have a soul. Probably not,
though that's a scary thought.
Same with Spike, though. His body is here. We
can touch it, feel it, pinch it, poke it,
stab it, but still, its like a shell . . . it
only holds memories, nothing substantial.
The three of us, we're dead on the inside.
And the rest can never know what it feels like.
They can never know . . .
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