Title: A Dance with the Devil 2/?
Author: Jullez
Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Rating: This part is PG.
Summary: A month after the Ascension.
Notes: This is from Buffy's point of view.
Dedication: My buddy Amanda.
Distribution: If you want it take it.
Feedback: It makes me happy!
E-mail: Jullez@prodigy.net
It's been a month! A whole month and we still haven't found anything. I've always heard people's various descriptions of hell and I must say that Dante's is the one nearest to the truth. That's what it feels like. This feeling inside me could only be described as hell. I can't stop thinking about Giles. How could I let this happen to him? How could he do this to me? Oh yeah….he did it to save my life. Everything he ever did was for me. I miss him so much.
Sometimes at night, or anytime really, but mostly at night I find myself going off to his apartment. He left it and everything else he had to me. Who would have thought that Giles was rich? He left me a mansion in England. The will said that I should divide his things amongst everyone as I see fit. As I see fit! Huuuh…I feel like I can't even see! I haven't touched any of it and I'm not going to. If I did that would be like admitting he's dead. I know he's not. I know he can't be. I know because I can still feel his presence here and all around me. I never knew how much I loved his apartment.
Willow suggested that I move in here because it's closer to the UC Sunnydale campus. I just can't bring myself to do it. It's like invading his space. My logic is distorted, but I can't help it. Nights when I'm feeling lonely I come here, pour myself a drink, and crawl into his bed. It feels comforting, reminds me of when I would go to him at all hours with my problems.
He would always listen to me no matter how he felt. He would do anything for me! He did do anything for me! I hope he knew…knows that I will do anything for him. I would give anything to have him standing here beside me.
The times I seem to need him the most are at night. At night is when I have the nightmares. They are almost always about him. Sometimes he's being tortured. I can see him being beaten by and invisible force. He is always crying out for me, but I can't help him. I can't make it stop. I can't make the pain go away, his and mine. I always wake up just as he looks straight into my eyes and says my name anguished.
Whenever I have those dreams I go to his apartment and wrap myself up in the quilt on his big bed that still has the musky scent of him on it. I imagine that he's in the bed and I ask him to hold me for the night. He complies and we pull each other into a tight embrace, surrounding ourselves with the comforter and each other. The warmth of his body and the rhythmic beating of his heart serve to coax me into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Usually that illusion is the only thing that will get me to sleep again. Willow is always on my case about how little I sleep. It's not like I can't see the bags under my eyes! It's not like I chose to see the hell that I see when I close my eyes. If only I could make them understand.