Title: Slayer Diary pt3

Name: Nimue

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: all characters belong to JW, ME, etc...

Feedback:Yes, please

Summary: Part 3 of the diary arc - going toward a season 6 resolutions. Written from the Slayer's perspective and not meant to be what is *seen* on screen, but what is going on inside. (I=Buffy).

Hope you enjoy. Pts 1 and 2 are available if you missed them.



The Slayer Diary

March 7, 2002



I stood above myself in silence, my hands clasped in front of me,

my feet planted firmly on the floor. My head was cocked

quizzically. Everything seemed so far away. I could see and hear,

but it all seemed so terribly far away. And I could feel

myself being pulled gently, resisting just to stand there a moment

longer.

My shell was draped across his lap, still and almost peaceful. He

had pulled the sheet from off of the bed and wrapped my

body like a child, but my feet and arms and head lolled awkwardly, dangling just above the floor. His hand was on my face, brushing the tangled, dewy hair from my cheeks. He was rocking

almost imperceptibly, his movements hitching, and I could

see the tears roll off his cheeks and onto my lips. He was

muttering softly " I tried to save you, Pet. Every night I tried."

His words were catching in his throat, choking him, coming out in

awkward bunches. His face was so hurt and so furiously

angry. "Why? Why couldn't you just believe me? Why couldn't you

just... love me? Anything, " and his fist slammed into

the floor with an earth shattering crash. "My life was for you and

you bloody well wouldn't have that, " he continued angrily. "

I may not have been what...you...wanted... but I loved you," he

finished breaking down.

His head dropped, his arms clutching my shoulders, pulling my limp

body into his arms. My shadow self, the watching one,

knelt down beside him, letting my hand tentatively reach for him,

then slowly rest upon his shoulder.

He stopped for a moment, his head turning towards my shadow. He

could not see me, but he felt me. Even after...

everything... he felt me. I slid my palm to his cheek and suddenly

felt his tears and shook feeling his pain. The result of

letting me come crashing down.

I watched his eyes close and knew he could feel my hand. He cradled

his cheek into my palm, sniffing, trying to catch a

scent, a whisper. He was silent now, still clutching my shell to

his chest, gripping her so tightly, his other cheek buried in her

hair.

I leaned toward him, letting my lips press softly against his,

brushing them, feeling their soft familiarity. Tasting his sweat

and

the salt of his tears. I whispered, my lips brushing his with each

word "I believe you, Spike. And I have always loved you."

Then I felt myself extinguish. Gone in a poof of smoke. It was

dark for a long, long time. Dark and quiet and lonely. I was

not cold anymore, but I was frightfully unaware. I could not

remember what happened. I was aware of the pain coursing

through my head, crashing like waves on a rocky shore.

But I felt. Pain, but I felt.

Was I dead? Was I insane? Was I dreaming? Was this some other

reality? It was so dark. And then everything was gone

again.

*****

My eyes flickered open in a frightened stare. I was in bed and it

was dark. I gasped, pulling breath into my lungs, my hands

clutching white-knuckled at the sheets, like coming up from the

bottom of the sea. I could see the brightness of a moon

shadow, but there was only silence. And I felt terror.

I heard a noise and jumped. His boots dragged against the floor as

he pulled himself out of a chair in the darkest corner of

the room and came towards me. I clutched the bed, afraid,

disconcerted, alone. Nothing made sense.

He sat on the edge of the bed, lit by the moon, shimmering and

beautiful and silent. I shied away from him, but he held still,

finally moving to brush the hair from my face with the back of his

hand. My emotions flooded back, the dam breaking, tears

streaming in silent silvery rivers. He pulled me to him, burying

his face in my hair and I held onto him, clutching around his

chest.

"Maybe I could save you this time, Love. If you will let me."