FIC:(repost) Janus Was Healed (2/2)

[Mad Hamlet <Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx>]

For the second time this night my heart is ready to explode. Again blue spots
swim in front of my vision and I'm gasping for breath, lurching down this dark
path through the woods but now I cannot stop. Cannot take a moment to catchmy
breath because now someone needs me. She needs me.

I go on.



I can't stand up any more. My legs feel like rubber, loose hot rubber that's
melting by the side of overcooked pavement. Extreme example but accurate.
Buffy, where are you? I need to find you, not just for you you stupid slayer
for me. I don't know..I don't now I don't know how or why but I need you.
To...to tell you...to ... to SOMETHING! Where the hell are you!!

I want to cry in frustration but as I'm busy greedily sucking in all the air
I can, as fast as I can, I don't have that option. I try and be quiet, to
listen but aside from my own great attempts to stabilize the oxygen levels in
my blood I hear nothing. Which is not surprising, Buffy's the hunter, not me.

Buffy...

If only there were a way to find her, like..magic.....or.......something.

Boy do I feel stupid. I smack the heel of my hand into my forehead, doesn't
make me feel any smarter but at least it expresses my self disgust nicely. Of
course there's magic. Heellooo! Practicing Witch here. Sheesh. 

I close my eyes and take a deep breath or five, try to find myself, calm all
the whirling feelings rushing around my heart and mind, I don't have time to
chant the chants and make the proper gestures of supplication or whatever's. I
have to find her. 

"Find her." I say aloud and when I open my eyes I see a small blue spark
floating in the air in front of me. It drifts in a lazy figure eight pattern
in the air, waiting for my instructions, even though I just said 'find her'. 

I follow it's drifting path with my eyes for a few seconds, it is rather
lovely, a soft blue glow in this dark wood. But I can't afford to be
distracted.

I take a deep breath and let it out carefully. "Take me to Buffy." I say
clearly. 

The small light bobs in midair as if acknowledging my command and zips
quickly over my shoulder. "Hey!" I shout after it scrambling to keep up. "Slow
down!"





I impatiently tug at where my skirt has snagged on a bramble. I don't have
the time or inclination, nice dress or not nice dress be damned. The material
tears before the thorns let me free but I don't care. My guide is bobbing in
the air in front of me, zipping around with similar impatience to my own. 

I push aside the last few branches still stubbornly clinging to my clothing
and find myself in a small clearing. In the center of the clearing is a
monstrous oak. Its trunk must be four feet wide at the base; its long heavy
branches disappear into shadow far over my head, and its canopy blocks out the
sky with a darkness deeper than the night around us both. It is around the
trunk of this tree the guide is furiously spinning.

Stepping closer to the great tree I gently place my hand on it the rough
bark. I think I can feel the gentle and ancient thrumming of a heart within,
but what's actually there is separated by a very thin line from what I
probably want to be there. "Thank you," I whisper to the still spinning ball
of light. "You can go." 

Without hesitation the guide vanishes, no wink or glimmer or sound, one
minute its soft glowing body is there, and the next it is not. Illuminationso
light that its absence is not noticed by the dark, dark I am now trying to
penetrate with my eyes. I tilt my neck up and gaze into the darkness of
twisting branches and black leaves. Very little moonlight filters through the
gently shifting canopy, it's dark, all dark...there.

The main body of the trunk forks about ten feet off the ground and the left
branch forks again five feet further up. It is there I can see her. A slightly
lighter patch of shadows, hunched over behind the few tiny sapling branches
breaking off from the main body. Through their leaves I can see slight
glimmers of light reflecting of her eyes.

"Buffy?" I call up to her gently. "Buffy please come down."

The patch of shadow that I see as her slinks down behind the darker shades,
hiding, trying to not be seen but I do see, and I do still see her eyes.

I hold out my hands, palm up, being sure they can see they're empty. An odd
gesture but I can't think of anything else. "Please? Down here? Can we talk?"


"You see." She grunts down to me.

"Yes. Yes I saw." I reply, my voice is soft, quiet, more like I'm whispering
to the air beside me than having a conversation but I know she can hear me.

"Not Buffy." She whimpers. "Willow not see Buffy. See Slayer. See Slayer, not
Buffy!" She whimpers in her throat and the sound lances my heart. 

A ray of moonlight pierces the canopy of leaves and highlights her for a
brief moment before the cloud cover washes the illumination away. Her arms are
wrapped around the branch in a death grip, her fingers still caked with blood
and there are hand prints all over the tree. 

"That not Buffy." She shakes her head..I think. "That not...that no...not
me!"

I can hear the words she's not saying, she's begging me, pleading with me to
tell her that she's right, what she was back there, in the park, a hunting,
feral, killing machine, a machine yes, that that wasn't her. Something else
maybe, born of magic or..the moon..or anything else but not her.

But I can't lie to her, not to her. She has to know that...that...she is The
Slayer, and that she is Buffy, that Buffy is The Slayer. .. and..that the
Slayer is Buffy ..and..now I'm confused.

Darn.

"Yes." I try again. "Yes that was you-"

"No!" She screams down at me. "No say! Bad speak! Bad speak! You friend! Say
you smell nice! Like! Buffy like! Not Buffy slayer! Not Buffy!!"

I let the echoes of her shriek die away before replying.

"It's okay though." I smile up at her, I try to smile at any rate, not having
a mirror I'm not sure how good the effort is but she doesn't bolt so I'm
thinking it looks good enough. "It's okay that you're The Slayer, you have to
be. I..I don't mind that you're The Slayer."

I can see her gazing down at me. Just from the way what little light reflects
in her eyes I know that she's furious. I never wanted to be on the receiving
end of Buffy's anger. It hurts me, like ..on the inside, I've seen her be
angry at others. She's so quiet and calm when she's really angry. The energy
just becomes so focused, and tight, and all she does is pour out this laserof
rage at the person responsible. And she's doing that to me now and I feel like
curling up and blowing away. 

I hold my hand up, trying to block her gaze, I turn my head away but I'm
still feeling it pushing through me and it hurts. It hurts so bad... I'd do
anything to make her stop, anything at all.

Except lie to her.

"Please stop." I say, the gorge rises in my throat and I have to swallow it
back down. "Please stop Buffy." I'm whispering now. "I don't want to hurt you.
I just want you to understand."

"Stand what?" She hisses down at me from the trees. "Stand you say hurt to
Buffy? Stand you say Buffy monster? Know name you. Not Willow no. Not Willow.
Not friend. Name is Be..betr..Backstabber!"

I sob now, choking, can't breathe, throat closed off with air trying to get
in with cries trying to come out. "LIAR!" I scream up at her. Screaming is
good, well no it's not cause screaming means anger and anger is bad but at
least I can breathe.

"You...you..stupid....stupid proud...stupid person!" I yell. "I don't care!
Don't you get it? I don't care. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, I
don't care!! I don't care what you do or what you are because everything that
falls in that category is good enough! You ...laugh..and you..you..uh..love
and you do what has to be done. And sometimes that means having to do bad
things, bad, terrible, violent things and you try and put that under 'slayer
stuff' so it doesn't touch who you think you are!"

My fists are now clenched by my sides, my nails are digging into my palms,I
can't see her anymore, shape, shadows, eyes, nothing just a black blur, too
many tears and water and salt. Funny, cave slayer seemed so amusing if
somewhat disturbing and now it's dissolved into tears and shouts. 

I realize this, but I keep screaming at her anyway.

"But it's not true!" I shake my finger in what I remember as being in her
general direction. "You are what you are and it doesn't matter to me! You
are...you ARE the Slayer. So what? You used your hands tonight? You think I'm
repulsed? Sickened? That I'd leave you? How DARE you think so poorly of
me...you poor...stupid..."

I whip my head around, squeezing the palms of my hands to my eyes, hot tears
squeezing around dirty skin. "God damnit Buffy, don't you get how much I don't
care? Those...murderous, hateful things killed that girl, they didn't just do
it to survive, they hurt her... you didn't see her... I did. And you stopped
them, you made sure they'd never do it again and I don't mind about the means
of measure. Maybe that's morally deficient, or dangerous ethically and you
probably can't grasp all these big multisyblic words what with you being a
cro-magnon but you'll probably understand this,"

I take a deep breath. "I. Don't. CARE!" 

The effort of all this screaming, coupled in with my exhaustive state catches
up with me and I slump against the tree, resting my forearm across the trunk
and my forehead on my arm. "I don't care Buffy," I breathe quietly. "I don't
care because.... because...."

"'cause?" Her voice drifts down from the trees, gently, soft, and painfully
vulnerable.

Ever had anything 'click' into place? Where all there was were many branches
and paths writhing about in your mind like an overactive bramble forest in the
night; all of a sudden the one factor comes in and they, these thoughts and
feelings, just lay themselves out in neat and orderly rows? It's like that
only more so. Now I see everything in my life and their separate factors and
values to me. What matters, and what doesn't in very simple terms that are
crystal clear.

My parents? Family? They're there but at a rudimentary level, I wouldn't want
to see them hurt but... The Scoobies. They hold the place in my life where I
suppose most would class family, at least those who were not from Sunnydale.
Giles, Xander, everyone I've ever known or cared about suddenly are mapped out
in mind and heart, I know exactly where they stand and what they mean to me,
to Willow Rosenberg. It's..a little discomforting actually. I realize that
people I should care for I don't...that hurts. But Buffy? What do I learn
about her?

I slump to my knees, still resting my head on the side of oak. 

"Because I love you Buffy."

I say it without preamble or recognition of the accomplishment. I say it
because it has to be said and because it's true. All the others whirl around
my life, some closer to the middle, the center, others along the edges. But
she..she is the center.

Everything is quiet for a while.

There's a small rustle, a sound of someone landing from a fifteen foot jump,
since they're not screaming in pain from a broken leg I presume it's Buffy. 

I can hear her taking cautious steps closer to me, based on the number of the
sounds I'm guessing she's still walking on all fours. I sigh, come the morning
if she's still doing that I'm buying a leash. 

Her breath is on my neck. Warm air course over my throat, it's not smooth
though, her breath come in shuddering gasps. 

I lean against the tree for a moment longer before turning to look at her.
She flinches away like a startled animal. 

"I don't care." I whisper. Throat hurts, whispering probably a necessity, not
just a choice. I reach out and stroke her cheek gently. Not quite dry and
sticky blood covers my hand but that's okay, I can feel her skin underneath.
"I really don't care Buffy."

She sits back on her...well..in that position, haunches would be the correct
term I suppose..and just lets me stroke her face slowly and gently, not
looking away from me, not even blinking.

"Not friend love?" She finally asks, cocking her head to the side. "Love
love?"

I nod slowly, not removing my hand from where it is gently stroking her face.
"I'm afraid so." I reply. 

She nods too. 

Then slowly stands up on her two feet. Cancel the leash idea. She takes a
step toward me hesitantly, than another and another before sinking back down
on her butt. She leans forward and sniffs at me gently. 

"Girl smell nice." She finally announces. 

Then she reaches up, and cups my face, lifts her head up to mine and kisses
me. 


And as the the kiss deepens and I fall into the sensations, I'm aware of the
sticky blood coating her face being smeared all over my own face and lips;
that I can taste it. That her hands, now hanging onto my shoulders with the
strength of someone recently saved, are going to leave stains that will never
come out. 

But that's okay.

Because I don't care.


There is only one thing that can damn me.
That can send me down in a swirling maelstrom of fire and pain.
And it is not the word of Man.
And it is not the lessons and rules of the Church, hypocrites every one.
And it is not the words of God, nor the judgements of Angels.
And it not a fair tribunal of my 'peers' that can find me guilty of crimes
immortal.
No. 
I can only be accused, judged and damned by my own Soul.
And I would never be so betrayed.

Mad-Hamlet