Title : Bleeding

Author : Caitlin

Rating : PG-13 Language and angsty thoughts.

Setting : Up to including The Gift (Yup one of those)

Summary : Spike tries to run from what's happening to him and what's

happened, but things never work out that way and who said living and

feeling like a human was ever easy? Spike POV throughout.

Feedback : Much appreciated, I used to write some fic but don't

really any more because well, basically, I suck. Huh, really

shouldn't tell you that when you're about to read this should I? Oh

well, too late.

Bleeding

* * * * *

Have you ever been in love? Horrible ain't it? It makes you so

vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means

that someone can get inside you and mess you up. Make you bleed. You

build up all these defenses, you build this whole soddin' suit of armor so

that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from

any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give

them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. And in my case she

didn't want it. But they do something dumb one day, like kiss you or

smile at you, or in my case punch me one too many times, and then

your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages people. It gets inside

you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple

a phrase like 'Get away,' or 'I hate you,' (At least they were always

simple phrases to us) turn into a glass splinter working its way into

your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the

mind. It's a mind-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-

you-apart pain. Bloody hell I hate love.

But near the end I almost loved it again, loved being its bitch

because sometimes you can love someone and they can never return your

love. And you have to be all right with that, and I was. But that

was only because she was still here.

Red tried to explain it to me, when her and Harris dragged me back to

my crypt. After the battle Will wouldn't leave for a bit 'cause she

was certain that I was gonna throw myself in the sunlight. For some

reason, that I can't figure out quite yet, that would be bad, I'll have

to get back to her on that one.

'Course if I was gonna do that I would have done it back at that

*place* and even if I still wanted to she wouldn't have been able to

stop me - chip or no chip. The one thing in the world I wanted then

was to be alone. No. The one thing I wanted right then was to see her

again. Bloody hell even to feel her fist in my face, cracking my

teeth into the flesh of my cheek. I wanted that taste again that I

came to associate with her. That tangy metallic spice of sweat and

blood.

Blood, is that how I'll remember her? By the stuff that

killed her, and the only thing that keeps me alive? Blood, it's

always soddin’ blood. It's what made her look at me in disgust and

it's what, when I finally got a fucking crumb, took her the hell away.

So she stood there as I slumped against the tomb, trying to keep

myself upright otherwise she'd never leave me alone. I'd already

managed to convince them I was fine, collapsing would have me

condemned to a night at Giles'.

And when I finally gained the energy to look up, she was *still* standing

there,

edging backwards and forwards. I think it was good for her. Gave her

something else to think about, something else to do. Me? I 'aven't

got a life, not really, 'aven't got no soddin’ distractions. 'Cept

her and look what happened there?

'I'm not gonna do it,'

She looked at me, biting a pale and bluish lip, 'Come on Spike, like

I believe that. Like I wasn't gonna go after Glory you mean?'

''Least you had someone to beat the crap out of,' I slurred, 'That

hell bint is dead now, no one for a decent spot of payback, you know

what I mean?'

'Yeah,' She gave me a look, 'I know what you mean,'

And she did, she really did and for some reason instead of telling

her to piss off I found myself trying to speak through bloodied

lips. 'Haven't ever felt like this before,' found myself muttering,

and hissing as I tried to move around.

'Like what?' Think she might have looked surprised then.

'Like someone's ripped my insides out, like I'm not me anymore."

'I think,' Heard her edging away to the door, 'You're supposed to

feel that way,'

And then, satisfied I wasn't going to turn chargrilled any time soon,

she was gone.

Supposed to feel this way? Supposed to feel this bloody way?! Oh

yeah and then I remembered with a cynical laugh, the awful condition

that is humanity, which I'd been foolishly trying to find again. Not

because I was trying to make her love me, but because I was trying to

be someone she could love.

I remembered what my mother told me, huddled up on her deathbed over

a hundred soddin’ years ago, "A heart can never reach a peak of

truth, William, until it breaks." Well what the hell is that meant

to mean mother dearest? That you feel nothing until you are

nothing? And that real suffering is what makes you alive? Well I'm

beat. Give me back the inexperience, keep the heat, let me trade it

for some soddin’ deliverance. There's nothing great about heart

ache. There's nothing I want to learn from all this pain. From all

this bleeding. I'd rather not feel love than to have to feel this

way. Like I'm dying.

No I don't feel sad anymore pet. I'm back again, staring at this

pathetic pile of rubble, which is your real grave. Not that mound of

dirt. This is where you did it, this is where you bloody gave up.

You're a soddin’ wimp do you know that? We could have....we could

have found another way, I'm sure we-

But you, you did all this. Just you being here around me - God I can

still smell her on my skin - has made me this way. There's no

turning back. But you don't even have the courtesy to stay and see

it through to the end. You left me, you just soddin’ left me. And

your sister, what the hell is she gonna do now? And leaving me to

protect her? Oh that's bloody marvelous that is pet, I couldn't do

it when you were here what the hell makes you think I can do it now?

Now, when all I can think about is the smile from your mouth. The

touch from your hands. The feel of you next to me. The sound of your

voice. Just a few of the things I'd give anything for just to have

you back. If I still had my soul I'd sell it to the soddin' devil

for you love. I'd risk the whole thing to just feel you one last

time. Just that brief flicker of your lips, the glimmer of a smile

on your lips, no matter how small, I would do anything. God you

coward I hate you, I bleeding hate you.

I need to break something, these rocks, these rocks that I throw

about the place, did they hurt? Were you still alive when you fell on

them, could you feel them all jut into the slope of your back? Did

your skin bleed, did your bones break? Did it hurt pet? Oh please

tell me it didn't hurt.

Look at this place, it's a soddin’ wreck. All I did was stumble into

that post and the whole fucking thing collapsed. It's just a

fricking construction site, a shoddy construction site where brickies

try to earn a dollar. But it beat you pet, bloody well beat you. I

thought you were stronger than anything. Thought you'd always be

around to kick my ass. But you're not. Where the hell are you huh?

You bloody coward, where the hell are you?

Well I'll tell you where the hell I am, I'm not here.

* * * * *

I think this one is his, if I remember rightly. God even the door is

boring. I can hear some shuffling about from inside, rustle of

papers, some thudding. Bloody hell a smash, what *is* he doing in

there? And then some cursing.

Well I'm impressed, I didn't even know the Watcher knew what that meant.

Finally the door opens. Bleeding hell, he looks a wreck, but then I guess

I'm not looking all that sharp myself. He fumbles with his glasses for a

bit, and

adjusts his eyes before he finally realizes who it is.

'Spike,'

Is that disappointment in his voice? Does the same thing happen to

him as well? Does he sometimes run into crowds thinking he's spotted

you and then start shaking someone who wasn't you? Sometimes I look

around for you Slayer and think you'll be there, waiting and looking for me,

either for some help or to kick my ass, but you're not.....you never

are.

'Don't worry it's not a social visit,' Gotta stop myself from

laughing for a minute when he looks relieved. 'Just thought I should

let someone know,'

He scrunches up his face and rubs the back of his neck, it's only six

in the evening. Sundown. But it looks like he's been sleeping all

day. Take a swallow and look off into the distance, just wanting

this to be over with. Don't know why I'm here anyway, s'not like I

need his soddin’ permission or anything.

'Let someone know what?'

'I'm leaving town s'all thought it would be,' try to think of the

word, 'Impolite,' I settle for, Impolite? Jeez, when did I ever

care? '-Not to let one of you lot know.'

He nods. That's it. Well what the hell did I expect? A farewell

party? Get a grip mate. I turn to go but his words stop me in my

tracks.

'And Dawn?'

'What about her?'

He's looking a little bit more respectable now. Hair all combed

back, that sleepiness gone from his face. He looks a little bit more

watcher-like. It's better.

'Does she know you're leaving? Have you told her Spike?'

'Well, I, I haven't-'

'I thought so,' He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

'Hey!' I reply indignantly, that snarky comment for some reason

getting to me. 'What the hell do you mean by that?' Feel myself

getting angry at that. What the hell is he trying to say ? It's not

like I owe her anything anyway. The nibblet's not my

responsibility.

And anyway, she's better off without me.

He takes the glasses off, and looks up at me. He's so haggard

looking but he's still got that power thing about him that I

discovered a few months ago back in the Magic Box, when he warned me

away from Buffy. God, what I'd give to go back to then.

'I think you know what I mean Spike,' he replies evenly.

'Well what can I say mate? I'm having a special ed day, care to

elaborate?'

The Watcher sighs, 'Dawn, for reasons beyond my comprehension,

Dawn,' he looks right at me, God I hate it when people do

that, 'Worships the ground you walk on Spike, and you haven't had the

decency or the compassion to even go see her. To let her come see

you. And now you're just leaving? Well forgive me if I suddenly

begin to regret having ever thought you'd changed,'

'Now wait here a minute.' I bring out a hand to stop the door he was

beginning to close, 'I have bloody well changed, and that's the

reason that I'm not going to see her alright? If you stopped

automatically assuming the soddin’ worse you could see that!'

He folds his arms over his chest, 'See what Spike? Enlighten me,'

Find myself staring at the ground. Mighty interesting place this

step, that strange cobbling type of paving. Don't get that in a lot

of places. Hell I don't need to answer him. But I do, roll my eyes,

but still don't look up. Don't know what that is, is it

indifference? Or is it shame?

'She's better off without me Watcher, we both know that. Bloody hell

you were telling Buffy that for long enough.'

'I was, and sorry to disappoint you Spike but you're still not my

best friend quite yet-'

I can't help but let a snort of laughter through and cut him

off, 'Glad to hear it mate,'

With a glare he continues- '*But* what I do know is that Dawn needs

you, she's lost everyone who's dear to her and she believes that you

blame her for Buffy's death,' He says the last bit quickly.

'You what?' That grabs my attention, 'That's bleeding ridiculous,'

'Maybe. But Dawn doesn't see it that way and your actions have

hardly proved otherwise,'

Oh yeah, duck my head again and shuffle, that's shame.

'I didn't know,' I mumble.

'No, I don't doubt that, but now that you do know I'd like to think I

wasn't wrong in all my newly formed opinions of you and that you'll

do something about it. Now if you'll excuse me I've just knocked

over a most expensive mint vase and I want to see if it's still

salvageable,'

Typical British. Oh yeah, I'm British too. But not typical mind.

The door shuts and I find myself just staring at the grain for a

while, mapping out the inconsistencies and where the wood is hollow,

where it's smooth and worn. Where did she touch this door? Where

was it that she knocked when she came round to Giles' place. Was it

there, where the pattern slides together and the grain becomes

darker. Was it there, that slight imprint, that slight groove in the

surface. Does this door still carry her memory, does it still smell

of her. Bleeding hell if Giles came out to find me sniffing his

door, he'd have thought I'd finally lost it.

So where do I go now huh? Where do we all go?

With these new found complications to add to the rest of the mess of

my existence I turn, not quite sure what I'm going to do next, but

before I can even think about that my thoughts are interrupted.

"Spike!" I turn around, the Watcher's followed me into the garden.

Half stumbling down the steps. God I didn't even hear him coming.

That weariness, I realize as he comes closer, has been replaced by

something else. His eyes are wide and his breaths are coming up

short. I feel my eyes narrow.

'What?' I pause, 'What is it? What's wrong?'

'It's Dawn,' He replies breathlessly, 'She's gone missing.'

* * * * *

It's raining now. She picked a helluva night to go AWOL on us. I

can barely see a thing through all the grime that lingers in the air,

or hear anything with that incessant pelting of raindrops above me.

How do they expect me to find her in this? I'm searching my mind,

trying to think of places she could be. But what the hell do I know

about where teenage girls go running away to when they've lost all

their family in the world? When they're completely alone.

Although, I can understand the trashing your house part, at least

that keeps Giles occupied, talking to the police whilst the rest of

us search. So with that common ground, I do put myself in her shoes

for a second, and I find that really I'm still *in* my own shoes. So

what do I want?

I want to get away. That's what I want. As far as possible.

Nowhere will ever be far enough.

So I'm cruising the highways, all possible routes out of Sunnydale.

She hasn't got any money so I don't think that she got the bus, but

Harris and his other half are checking out bus shelters just in

case. Which leaves me searching for a little girl, trying to hitch

a lift out of this town of nightmares. A girl who probably hates me

for abandoning her, when I promised I'd protect her. Till the end of

the world. Well it was the end of my world, does that count? No I

expect not, and I can't help thumping the steering wheel and almost

screaming at myself. I'm such a bloody coward. But I just want

this fucking feeling out of me. This gnawing at my insides, this

never relenting burning in my head. Is that so wrong?

Does anybody else know what the hell this feels like, I wonder. Like

eyes that watch you as you walk, measuring your every move. You know

they're out there, somewhere, and the thought is not comforting. And

you speed up, you slow down, stop, go but it doesn't matter because

whatever the hell you do they're still there, watching and waiting.

Sometimes a slight rustle will grab my attention, a whisper from

somewhere and I'll spin - only to find nothing. But they *are*

there. I move on and the whispering begins again. Again I stop,

with the same result and it won't matter what I do, running, fleeing,

screaming, it won't matter. They'll always be there. What is that I

wonder? What do you call that feeling? I want to know, I really

do. At least I think so.

God, I've not just broken my promise once now, once which lead to the

death of the Slayer, but twice and if I lose the Nibblet too.....

*"Not well known for keeping your promises,"* Yeah you were right

Slayer. So why didn't you remember that? Why the hell did you give

me a chance? I'm not my ponce of a Sire, I'm not Captain Cardboard,

I'm me and all I could do was hope that was enough for you, and I

thought, near the end it might be. But with you gone pet, you're so

much a part of me, that it's like I don't exist anymore. And that's

not enough. Not enough to keep that promise and Dawn'll suffer

because of it. You never should have had any faith in me pet, I

don't deserve it.

I'm so deep in this pathetic brooding that I almost miss a small

figure. Really just a huddle of cloth and hair, burrowing into her

coat by the side of a road. In front of a fence which separates the

highway from fields and forests. She's got one arm wrapped around

her shivering little body, the other held up, thump poised, exposed

to the harsh bitter winds. A rucksack slung over her back.

Even from here I can see her hand's shaking and I'm suddenly swept

over by this inexplicable feeling. So intense it swarms my thoughts

and catches me unaware. And all I can think is that I want to run

out there and sweep her up and just, bloody hell I think I just want

to hold her, I'm not sure. Just hold her, stop her shivering, so

that I know she won't be cold again. I'm so surprised by the feeling

and it spreads such a warm fire in my belly that I almost forget to

pull over, for a second, I just keep driving.

Jerking myself alert, my hands frantically grip the steering wheel

and I swerve, ignoring the honks from the cars in the other lanes.

Her head shoots around as I pull up, those bright blue eyes looking

unaware and panicked. But only for a second and then she's darting

in the opposite direction and trying to jump over that fence which

leads into one of those fields.

Bleeding hell, when did she become Colin bloody Jackson, is all I can

think as I hurl myself over a few fences and follow the misty shadow

that's darting as fast it can across these sludgy fields. I realize,

as I run after her, that this won't be as easy as I anticipated. My

weight actually works against me as I feel the mud suck at my boots

and attempt to pull me down, causing big slurps as I yank my mud

covered feet out of the ground. Great, and I just cleaned these boots,

well spat on them a few times but still.

'Hey!' I call out but the hail sucks in my words, drowning them out.

I grit my teeth as more rain hits me in the face and blink furiously

trying to clear my vision.

'Hey!' I try again louder, almost tripping over the knapsack she's

discarded. For crying out loud is she trying to bloody kill me? I

curse as I kick out my leg a few times, trying to free it from the

strap that's wrapped itself around my boot, probably looking like a

complete plonker. Shit, did I lock my DeSoto doors? Any old plonker

could......no, I scold myself a few times. Come on Spike try to

focus on the more important things going on. Like catching Speedy

Gonzales up there. Then suddenly I think of something.

'Arghh!!' Bloody hell even I didn't know I could scream that loud.

But it's enough, open half an eye and I watch from my position face

down in the wet grass, covered in mud. Ugh, the things I do for Summers

women. This is going to ruin my duster, two hundred and fifty

dollars of leather this is. But somehow it's worth it. She's

turned, alerted by my shriek and is walking tentatively back so she's

easier to see. Faded jeans and dark blue coat, long auburn hair

plastered to her face, a hesitant, worried look in her

eyes. 'Spike?' I see her lips form the words, although the wind and

rain still drowns them out.

Gotcha Nibblet. Spring to my feet quickly, and she looks on

horrified, knowing she's been fooled before she turns and tries to

start to run again.

'Nuh uh, I don't think so,' I grab her wriggling little body around

the waist, she tries to loosen my arms but the grips too strong.

She's no match for me. The kid's really struggling now, didn't

expect her to put up this much of a fight.

'Hey, hey, calm down, it's just your old pal Spike,' And then the

arm that was trying to peel my fingers apart is suddenly raised and I

feel a sharp pain on my right cheek. Shocked, I let her go. But she

doesn't run this time, just steps backwards with a defiant and

stubborn look on her face.

I can't move, just reach up to feel my cheek and the scratch marks

there. Stinging more as the rain seeps into them, the blood staining

my skin. I really didn't keep my promise did I?

'Yeah well I'm *glad* it hurt!' She splutters angrily at me. Hot

with fury, with embarrassment, maybe even with some guilt. I see a

touch of her sister in her and it just makes it hurt some more.

My eyes flick to her. 'That isn't what hurts pet,'

She takes a big gulp of air, and wipes some rain or maybe some tears

hastily out of her eyes, 'I'm not going back!' She shouts over the

rain, full of rage, 'You can't make me,'

I walk closer to her, because I want her to hear me but for some

reason I don't want to shout. Even though my cheek is pounding I'm

not really actually all that angry. She steps from foot to foot, still

holding

her chin up defiantly, 'I made a promise that I'd protect you luv,'

'To Buffy?' She spits her name pulling a face, and it makes me

wince, 'Yeah well Buffy's gone Spike!'

And I'm still eerily calm, 'No nibblet,' Her nostrils flare as she

looks at me, 'To myself,'

She looks down and the anger dissolves, taken away from the rain

still covering us both. She shakes her head from side to side, her

body starting to shudder not just from the cold but the sobs that are

starting to rake through her, 'I just, I couldn't handle being there,

it was more than I could take, I just couldn't stand it anymore,'

'I know Nibblet, you just had to get away from there,'

'No,' she looks up through the red streaks running down her face and

the locks of drenched dark brown hair, 'I had to get away from *me*.'

Even though the wind is wailing like a soddin’ banshee and the rain

is still crashing down, I can't hear it. A silence settles over it and us

doesn't look like it's going to be filled any time soon.

'Come on,' I turn around, abruptly, 'Let's get back to the car,'

'I'm not going back,' I hear her from behind me and can almost see

the stubborn stance she's probably in.

'I didn't say you were pet, but I don't know about you, but I'm

bloody soaking and this coat probably cost more than your soddin’

outfit so come on.'

* * * * *

Every child has great ambitions. But as they grow, they're bombarded

by negative suggestions - you can't do this; you can't do that; be

careful; always be on the look out and so on. Year by year, you

experience the realities of life, and your ambitions fade away. I

guess figuratively speaking, most children die by the time they reach

adulthood.

I can't imagine a time when Buffy was ever really a child.

But now I know why she loved this kid so much and looking at her,

what she's going through; just as justified as my own pain, I know

why when we suffer anguish we return to some point in our childhood.

Because that's the period in which we first learnt to suffer the

experience of total loss. No, it's more than that. It's the period

in which we suffer more total losses than in all the rest of our life

put together.

When she shuts the door, finally muffling the rain somewhat I switch

the engine on. Just seems to be some kind of reflex reaction, the

heat from the engine will keep up the temperature. Which doesn't

matter to me, but it'll keep her warm.

'I'm not going back,' she says with no tone in her voice, just

stares straight ahead.

'So you keep telling me,' I light up a cigarette with a heavy drag, the

flicker of the lighter momentarily illuminating the inside of the

car. Bloody hell it's dark in here. I'm not sure I like the dark

anymore, hard to pretend in it. So I flick on the lamps fitted above

each door of the DeSoto and they begin to hum gently in the quiet.

It's almost comforting. At least there's something to fill the long

silences now.

'So if you're not going back and I've promised to protect you what

the hell *are* we gonna do?' The fag dangles out of my lips as I

speak. She still stares straight ahead, swallowing hard.

'I shouldn't even be here,' She says in a small voice, 'If it was me

instead then everyone would be over it now. Xander'd be back at work,

Giles wouldn't be drinking himself stupid every night, Willow wouldn't

be failing her exams. If it was me then everyone would have grieved

and then they'd move on. We're all nothing without her, you could

all cope without me,'

'That's not true pet,' And, I realize, I'm not lying, 'You know

it's not. We'd still be a sorry lot if you'd left us in all. So

we'll have none of that. You just gotta give the Scoobies time,

that's all.' Still she makes no reaction, 'You're strong luv, you'll

get through this.'

'I was only strong because Buffy was by my side,' she replies

quickly, her voice full of tears, 'Now all I've got are these fake

memories and I can't even make any new ones of her just so that I

know for certain they're real because she's not here anymore. Her or

mum. I've got nothing.'

'You've got me.'

Our eyes meet. Without anger, without blame for each other and

ourselves. They just...meet. 'That is if you want me. I know that

I can be a pain in the ass, I know that I've got no social skills and

some really bad habits. I like my drink and my fags and a decent

spot of violence every now and then and I'll never be a good guy, but

I'll always be here for you.'

I think I see a smile flicker on her face, but she bites down on her

lip and swallows it away. Maybe she's storing it inside herself for

a better time. I know what she feels like, you feel guilty to smile

when Buffy's not around. Because you know she'll never smile again.

God, I wouldn't even care if it was at me. I just wanna see *both*

of them smile again. And then suddenly, before I even register

what's happening, she's slipped her arms around my waist and is

burrowing her head into my chest. Her body engulfed by sobs that soak

into my t-shirt, already wet in it's own right with rain. I go stiff

for a second. I haven't touched someone in anything other then pain

or lust in a thousand years.

Oh God she smells like Buffy, I never realized how much she smells

like Buffy. *"The monks made her out of me,"* Bloody hell she is

Buffy. She's Buffy and she's more than that, she's Dawn and for some

reason she needs me. I'm going to have to stay alive, I'm going to

have to carry on bleeding, whether I like it or not. Because it's not

just about me now.

Oh yes very clever, very clever God or whoever the hell it is out

there in charge of all this bollocks. Is this it? Was this in the

plan? I'm suffering now, are you happy? Well, I finally

know what this feeling is. And I feel like screaming, I feel like

running and shouting and then.......no more. Because I know what's

watching me.

This is guilt, isn't it? Each time I took a life this is what

someone felt like. What I feel like now, what the Nibblet feels

like. And no I'm still not sure I care that someone else felt like

this, but the fact is it could have been Dawn and that's why I know

what it is now. It could have been Dawn.

Oh I see now, you needed me to open up my heart, to make it bleed. Very

soddin’ clever, and I bleeding hate you for it.

What? What did you expect? Me to turn over a new leaf? Well you've

made a big mistake buddy, because she's more valuable to you then

I'll ever be. So don't think for a second that when I'm protecting

Dawn that I'm *ever* doing it for you because you took her away from

me. You took her away from us. What did she do to deserve this?

Why did she have to suffer and be punished for me? Punish me you

bastard, have some guts and punish me.

But you are aren't you? In your own twisted way you are. I would

have died for her, I didn't expect her to die for us. Damn, I want

to scream now and I want to have faith and never doubt. I want to

break, I want to sleep and never wake. I want to knock down walls,

and escape, be alone, hide my soddin’ face. Bloody hell I just want

this to stop hurting so much. I want to stop wanting her so much.

Suddenly something drops on the nibblet's hair, it's small and barely

noticeable. That's when I remember my cheek and I bring up a hand to

touch the skin there and realize I'm still bleeding from the jagged

scars in my cheek.

*"Blood it's always Blood."*

I give a sigh and the Nibblet straightens herself, and for some

reason, that I can't explain except for the fact that it feels

right, I find myself pressing a kiss to her forehead. She's stopped

shivering now, she's finally warm.

'Can we go to Canada?'

I jerk back and release her from my grip, she shuffles back in her

seat, 'Canada? What the bloody hell do you wanna go to Canada for?'

'Well I don't know,' She shrugs, 'Somewhere, anywhere, let's just get

the hell out of here!'

'Hey,' I give her my best possible stern look, 'No cursing now,

what would Giles say?' She just rolls her eyes, 'Anyway haven't you

had enough of the rain pet?'

There a small silence until she shakes her head, 'No, not yet,' and

then she slips me a smile and it's the most wondrous thing in the

world and I can't say no.

'Canada it is then pet,' and with a shake of my head I begin to

drive.

And speeding away from midnight feels so good. Good because I've

finally lost that being watched feeling, good because I've got some

direction now, and good because I've got the only things left that I

give a hell about in this car.

But most of all I feel good because I'm on the road again. I'm not

thinking about the fact that the Scoobies will probably be on my case

when we finally contact them for nicking Dawn and taking off, that I

haven't got much cash and don't know where the hell I'm going and

most of all because I'm not thinking about her. No that's a lie,

I'll always be thinking about her. I wouldn't want it any other

way.

But the thing is though, I'm not thinking about how

after being given a crumb I let her down. I'm, instead, *remembering*

how good she looks first thing in the morning, that rebellious and

arrogant sparkle she gets in her eyes before a fight, I'm remembering

the power of her punches and the strength of emotions. I'm

remembering the slope of her back and the pout of her lips. I'm

remembering her. Just remembering, I'm not really thinking at all.

I'm just singing along with the Pistols, loving the way the Nibblet

puts up with it with just a slip of a disapproving grin, letting the

cold wind from the window whip in my face, letting the road wash my

thoughts clean. Heaviness falls way with each mile we leave behind.

I feel....weightless. And the image of her body; broken and bleeding

seems to fade as more scenery passes us by and now Dawn's leaning

against me, nestling into my jacket.

But then, after a while something begins to nibble at my happiness,

or whatever the hell this feeling is. At first the roadsides were

lush and green. But now all the scenery is boring and oppressive,

anonymous highways flanked by chemical processing plants, cigarette

mills, housing developments and the dull blue and green aluminum

walls meant to protect them from the noise and smell of the highway

and I realize you can't ever really run away from everything. I

can't forget who I am, or what's happened. Neither of us can.

I'm going to have to always remember that about grief, it's been so

long since I experienced it. That it comes in unexpected surges,

mysterious cues that set off the reminder of pain. It'll come

crushing like a wave, sweeping me in its crest, I don't doubt that,

twisting me inside out. But then it'll recede again, leaving me

broken.

Oh sometimes baby I don't want to eat, to walk, to get out of bed.

Living, talking, listening, driving, hell nothing matters. I really

don't want to be distracted from my grief. I feel the tears trickle

down my cheeks, and I'm glad Dawn's asleep. I don't want her to see

me like this. But really I wouldn't mind dying, I wouldn't mind at

all. But you wouldn't like that, would you Slayer? You wouldn't like it

one

bit.

So this grief will come back, time after time, wave after wave and

there'll be nothing I can do about it. I'll just have to let it wash

over me because I've made a promise to myself, and Red's right. This

is the way you're meant to feel. If you give your heart out, you

gotta expect to bleed. But what's wrong with bleeding? If it means

that the kid's now asleep next to me, if it means that I got one,

just one touch of her lips, just one flicker of her smile. Then

bleeding's not that bad, it's really not that bad at all.

Have you ever been in love? Horrible ain't it? It makes you so

vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means

that someone can get inside you and mess you up. Make you bleed.

But if you don't let them, if you don't let this one stupid person

get inside you, then you risk even more. If you don't give them a piece of

you, then how can you ever have a piece of them? So I'm here, crying in

the darkness again. Hurting, bleeding, and remembering and loving her more

clearly then I ever have before. Bloody hell I love love.

* * * * *

" The truest words of all: I will not forget you. You are in my

waking thoughts, my sweetest memories, my dearest dreams. I will not

forget you. You have touched my soul, opened my eyes, changed my very

experience of the universe. I will not forget you. I see you in the

flowers, the sunset, the sweep of the horizon and all things that

stretch to infinity. I will not forget you. I have carved you on the

palm of my hand. I carry you with me forever."