ItHurtsP1

“It Hurts (So Bad) - 1”

When she opened her eyes they felt sticky and crusty, she could tell that she had been crying in her sleep again. *but at least she couldn’t remember dreaming* Without even thinking about it she reached over to the bedside nightstand and picked up the half full pint of whiskey, bringing it to her lips she took a sip to clear the phlegm, then filled her mouth and let the whiskey slowly trickle down her throat burning a path to her stomach.

As the warmth started to spread a thought crossed her mind *his lips, his tounge, his taste*. She immediately turned the bottle up and drained it down her throat. When the bottle emptied she raised it from her lips and flipped it away from her to crash against the wall, falling to the floor in pieces to lay next to a half dozen other broken bottles on the thin carpet. She laid there in the dark trying not to think *about him* about anything.

She rolled up on her side, searching the top of the nightstand for another bottle, all gone. She pulled open the drawer, empty. A sob of desperation escaped her lips. Through eyes that barely focused she stared at the luminous numbers on the small clock (9:24). She wondered vaguely if it was AM or PM? Not that it really mattered, except, if it was PM, it might still be Monday and she could go get more to drink. If it was AM, it was Tuesday, Dawn would be coming soon, in a few hours.

She’d run everyone else off, with her temper, hate filled language, and threats. Not always just threats either. She still remembered clearly when she had punched Xander in the jaw and had physically picked him up an thrown him out the doorway into the hall. She had screamed at him that if he ever came back again she would kill him. The satisfaction she had felt when she had hit him had faded away months ago, she couldn’t remember how many.

She rolled to the other side of the bed and sat up, swinging her legs out, she sat there for a minute with her feet not quite touching the floor. She reached out with a shaking hand and picked up the pack of cigarettes and lighter. A sad grin of irony spread across her lips. *cigarettes; filthy, nasty, smelly, cigarettes* But every time she lit one up it reminded her of him. *his smell, his taste, him* She put a cigarette between her lips and using the lighter lit it up, taking a deep breath, sucking the acrid smoke deep down into her lungs.

She sat there holding the lighter, *his* playing with it idly, opening it and striking a flame, closing it, opening it and striking a flame, closing it, again and again and again. She’d found it in the alley, where the battle had been fought, it had been covered with blood. *his?* She had searched the alley from end to end, the lighter was all she had found.

She’d gone into every building up and down the alley, searching, finding nothing. For two days she’d searched, day and night, going over every inch again and again. That was where the others found her. Filthy, crying, searching, searching. That was where she’d found the truth. They had known he was alive and kept it from her. They had all known, except Dawn. They hadn’t told Dawn, because they knew she’d have told her. They had wanted to protect her. They had wanted her to get on with her life. They had wanted her to be happy. *god, how she’d hated all of them*

When she’d found out the truth she’d been so shocked, so hurt, she couldn’t even react. Dawn hadn’t been as handicapped, she’d slapped Giles so hard she knocked his glasses off his face and when they fell to the ground she stomped on them again and again, shattering the lenses and breaking the frames. Xander had tried to take hold of her to calm her and she had kicked him so hard in the shins he had fallen to the ground in pain. When Willow tried to calm her, Dawn had raised both hands as if she had razor sharp claws and hissed at her like a cat in a rage of fury. She had screamed at them and cursed at them until she drove them down the alley. She had then gone to Buffy and the two of them had held each other, on their knees in the filth of the alley, crying, for hours.

Buffy hadn’t said a word to Giles since that day, she couldn’t even look at him, fortunately he’d gone back to London. She wasn’t sure what she might do to him if she ever did see him again. She’d had dreams of killing him, all of them, too many times to count. Xander had hung around for awhile, coming to see her, trying to explain why they had done what they did, wanting what was best for her. The last time he had said that to her she had exploded on him. She had screamed at him, cursed him, told him in great detail what she thought of him and his years and years of trying to live her life for her. When he lost his temper and told her to “get over it” and had said “he was nothing but a monster, your better off with him dead” she’d lost it and punched him in the jaw. She was certain that she’d broken his jaw, but she didn’t know for sure, and didn’t really care.

Angel had come to see her too, after he had healed up enough from his injuries. He’d been the only one of his people to survive. Fred, Wesley, Gunn, Spike, they’d all died fighting “the good fight” for Angel. But Angel had survived, somehow. She had listened to him talk, let him explain why he had never called her to tell her Spike had come back to life. He’d told her how Spike had come back as a ghost at first, and he’d thought it would just hurt her to know about it. He had called Giles about it and they had both agreed that telling her would just hurt her.

When Spike had been made corporeal again he’d left the decision about contacting her up to Spike. He told her that Spike had talked about calling her and had talked about going to see her, at first. But after Andrew had come to L.A. and told Spike that she was living in Rome and was happy and getting on with her life, he’d changed his mind. He’d said he didn’t want to mess up her life again and just hurt her more. He told her how he and Spike had gone to Rome on business and had seen her out dancing. They had both agreed that she was happy and they would both stay out of her life.

She had listened to everything he had to say, weighing it out, filtering it through the jealousy she knew Angel had felt about her relationship with Spike. She knew, in her heart, that Spike would have always wanted what was best for her. That he would have wanted her to be happy. She also knew that none of them, Angel least of all, would have told Spike about the months of grief and mourning she had gone through trying to deal with Spikes death at the Hellmouth. How she had moved to Rome with Dawn to try to get her life restarted, trying to please Giles and her other friends. How she had dated and laughed and smiled, telling her friends she was happy. How she had cried alone in her bed at night, her face buried in her pillow to muffle her gasps of pain.

When Angel finished telling her why he had done what he had done, she calmly told him that it should have been him who had died in the alley and not Spike. She’d told him that if she ever saw him again she would kill him, without a second thought. He’d left then and she hadn’t seen or heard from him since. She didn’t care, she didn’t care about anything anymore.

She remembered the letter she had received from Andrew, apologizing for not telling her about Spike being alive. In the letter he explained that he had been under orders from Giles not to tell her. How Giles had convinced him that telling her would only hurt her and bring pain back into her life. How the only way for her to be happy was to forget about Spike and make a new life for herself, to move forward, amongst the living. How when Spike and Angel had come to Rome unexpectantly he had lied to them and told them how happy she was with her new lover “The Immortal”.

Just thinking about “The Immortal” made her grimace. How could Spike have ever thought that she would have someone like him as her lover? He had been such a pompous ass, so full of himself. The whole “I am “The Immortal”” thing had made her cringe. Any and every conversation they ever had led back to him talking about himself and how “wonderful” he was and how lucky she was to be able to spend time with him because he was such an “important” person. The only reason she had ever gone out with him at all was because he was such a fantastic dancer.

Thinking about dancing with “The Immortal” made her frown as she lit up another cigarette. That is what Spike had seen when he came to Rome and saw them dancing together. The only times she had felt truly alive since Spikes death at the Hellmouth was when she was dancing. When she danced, if the music was just right, her body seemed to become separate from her everyday thoughts and actions. Her body took on a life of it’s own as she moved to the music. When she danced she could think of Spike without the overwhelming feelings of loss. When she danced she glowed with her love for him.

That’s what Spike had seen when he saw her dancing with “The Immortal”. He saw her love shining out for the world to see and had thought that she had forgotten about him and was in love with someone else. He’d thought that she was happy. He’d wanted her to be happy and had walked away without letting her know he was alive.

*God damned Angel! God damned Giles! God damned All of Them!* the thoughts screamed inside her head. *If I’d only known, I would have gone to him! I could have brought him back to Rome or I could have stayed with him! I could have been with him at the end, I could have died with him!!!*

She snubbed out the cigarette she was smoking and immediately lit up another. Tears slowly ran down her cheeks, she didn’t even try to stop herself from crying anymore. For years she’d hidden her tears from herself and her friends. Now she didn’t have any friends and she didn’t want to hide them from herself any longer. Every day she cried, sometimes all day long. Every night she cried, sometimes all night long. Even when she drank, she still cried. She didn’t care who knew it now. She didn’t care about anything anymore.

She snorted at the enormity of the lie. She did care about something, the dreams. Every time she fell to sleep she had the dreams. Every day, every night, whenever she closed her eyes to sleep she dreamed about him. Every time she dreamed she dreamt about arriving at the battle in time to save him. Every day, every night, whenever she closed her eyes she dreamt of saving him. In a hundred ways, a thousand ways, she dreamt of saving him.

She remembered him telling her after she had been ripped out of Heaven and brought back to life that he had dreamt of saving her whenever he closed his eyes. She hadn’t understood then the enormity of what he’d been saying. How had he dealt with the pain of it? The only way she had been able to survive the pain was to drink herself into oblivion every day and every night. How had he survived it? She knew from talking to Dawn that he hadn’t let himself escape from the pain by drinking. He had made a promise to take care of Dawn and the only way he could do that was by staying sober.

She knew that he had loved her enough to die for her. Would have willingly died in her place to save her. He’d carried his pain within him every day, without any hope of it ever going away, blaming himself for not saving her. Keeping his promise to protect Dawn, dieing inside a little more every day, every night, every time he closed his eyes. But he’d kept his promise. For 147 days he’d kept his promise to her, to keep Dawn safe.

But she hadn’t made any promises, because she didn’t care about anyone anymore. She still loved Dawn, as much as her shattered heart let her. But she knew that Dawn was alright now and didn’t need her to protect her anymore. Dawn was living with Willow and would graduate from high school in a few months. She had already been accepted into UCLA where Willow was enrolled in some kind of Masters Program. She didn’t talk to Dawn about Willow very much, she just didn’t care enough. She didn’t care about anything very much, not anymore.

She did know that Giles and the Counsel were paying for everything. All of Willows and Dawns expenses, hers too actually. They were paying for Willows schooling and would pay for Dawns too when she started UCLA. Dawn had told her several times that they would pay for her schooling, if she wanted to go back to college. But she didn’t care about going back to college, or anything else really. Every week Dawn gave her two hundred dollars, that’s all that mattered, nothing else.

**** (12/04)