Fic: The Scene (1/?)

TITLE: The Scene
NAME: Ivy Gort
E-MAIL: Ivygort@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
RATING: NC-17 language and sexual description. (Better safe than sorry.)
SPOILERS: Sixth Season
PAIRING: B/Spike, B/W
SUMMARY: I finally saw The Scene at the Bronze. I started this as a writing exercise to get jump started on my other stories. I feel like I should warn you to read at your own risk because I really have no clue where it is going or how it's going to end.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them.

I stand here staring down at my friends as they laugh and dance together. The distorted music from the speakers is adding a surreal texture to the night. My friends don?t understand what I?m feeling because I don?t feel ? period. I hear Spike?s grunts as he nears his climax and I think I should be embarrassed, or maybe I should feel shame? Yes, I should feel shame at letting his cold stiff shaft enter me in such a public place.

My problem is that fighting him is too much of a bother. Why should I fight him? I used to know; now there is nothing. I am nothing but a walking breathing corpse that doesn?t know enough to lie down and die. He finishes and his ice cold semen trickles down my legs and I think I should go to the bathroom to wipe it off?but again?that seems like to much trouble.

He mumbles something about darkness and where I belong or is it what I should be feeling? I don?t know, I don?t want to concentrate long enough for his words to make sense. It?s enough that he finally leaves me alone.

That?s what I want, to be left alone so that I don?t have to spend the energy to pay attention.

?Buffy, What are you doing up here?? I hear Willow ask me. I glance down at the dance floor and realize that the gang has not only stopped dancing but is now standing around me. I hate it when this happens, to be caught doing nothing, because it means they aren?t going to leave me alone for the rest of the night. They are worried about me.

?Vamp; there was a vampire up here ?.? I start, breaking my face in half with a smile I direct mostly at Xander and Anya. If I let Willow see my eyes before the mask is fully in place then she will know. ?I slayed him and then I was just checking out the crowd for more.? I tell them keeping my voice perky, the way the old, non-dead Buffy used to sound. It?s just hollow noise to me but it seems to do the trick for Xander and Anya as they smile back.

?Hey Cool! The Slay Master General strikes again!? Xander says in that to loud way he has of talking when he?s relieved.

?How many did you get, Buffy?? Willow asks me, stressing my name so I automatically turn towards her to answer.

?One. There was just one.? I tell her quickly trying to cover by projecting perkiness that I don?t feel at the Witch. I quickly look away from her and turn back towards the railing of the balcony. I cross my arms and lean against it trying to appear casual but somehow I know it?s too late to fool her. The silence becomes thick with tension.

?Look guys, I think I?m going to do a quick patrol and then head home.? I tell them turning back to face Xander and Anya. ?Xand could you make sure that Willow gets home safely??

I don?t really want to go on patrol; I just want to escape the all-knowing gaze of Willow Rosenberg. She will make me talk and I just don?t have the energy. Just standing here pretending that nothing is wrong is draining all my strength ? I wish I could just lay down on the couch and sleep.

God I?m so tired all the time all I want to do is sleep ? except I have nightmares that aren?t really nightmarish until the end.

?Yes, good bye Buffy. It was a pleasant evening, thank you very much for inviting me.? Anya says as they walk away from me, leaving me with Willow.

When did she become the boss of everyone? Maybe when I was dead? I think to myself and feel an ember of something flare deep inside me ?only it dies before it I can really grasp it.

I risk a glance at Willow and realize that she's not going to let me get away with an excuse this time. She has her resolve face on. I know I could run from her, but why? It would just delay not prevent what's going happen.

"So don't you think you should go to the bathroom and clean up?" Willow asks me.

"Well, that wasn't expected." I reply, not really caring what I say to her. The next few minutes is just something to be endured ? It?s a dance that we have to go through every few weeks. I just want her to finish whatever it is she has to say.

"I can smell Spike all over you from here." She tells me in a horse whisper that means she's angry with me.

"You saw?" I ask gathering up the strength to walk to the stairs leading down to the dance floor. If she is going to insist on talking to me she can do it on the way home. She quietly follows me out into the cool fall night. I can tell that my lack of reaction to her outburst over Spike has more than worried her, that we are heading into full-out freak complete with suicide watch.

They did that the first week I was back. Well, not Xander or Giles, just Willow and Tara would watch me ? never let me alone for any amount of time. It nearly drove me crazy to be watched, for a Slayer to be watched all the time drives us wild, like a chained dog unable to protect its family. They nearly drove me into a frenzy.

A frigid north wind whips up the discarded paper wrappers in the alley and it cuts right through my coat. I feel her gathering up her nerve to ask me what's wrong or to tell me I was doing so well ?. and I don't want to hear her voice say the words so I cut her off.

"Why is everything always so cold?" I blurt out. "Is it because I missed summer?" She still keeps pace beside me, but everything has changed as I feel her anger draining away into guilt.

And the ember from before is back ? it sparks into a tiny flame. I think I recognize it as anger. Not the projected kind that I can?t stop feeling from the others, but the kind that I used to feel. It?s mine, it belongs to me.

?Look Buffy I am so sorry that I ?.? She begins the apology that I?ve heard at least a hundred times in the past few weeks and that makes the flame grow even higher. I revel in this new sense of warmth; I don?t want it to end so I pull up some of my reserves of energy and throw it at the anger.

?Willow would you shut-up, please.? I tell her stopping in the middle of the alley to face her. ?You want me to forgive you for ripping me out of heaven, for tearing me apart, to make yourself feel?.? I pause as I see the tears welling up in her eyes and her grief, her guilt at her actions rises up and overwhelms my fragile flame. It smothers the spark as if it wasn?t there.

?I?m so cold ?.? I turn to continue down the alley towards home leaving her standing there.

I pull my jacket so that it?s wrapped around me as I watch my feet. I?m putting one foot in front of the other hoping that I can make it home.

I?m about to reach the end of the alley when I realize I?ve gone down to one knee. It takes a moment for my mind to catch up to my body as I reach up and behind stopping a second blow to the back of my head. My spider sense doesn't go off so I know it's a human mugger and not a demon. At the same time I realize I'm squeezing the mugger's wrist too hard. The sound of his bones snapping reminds me of Dawn?s favorite cereal - Rice Crispies. I maintain the pressure on his wrist as I stand up and turn around. And I hear more pops as his elbow and then shoulder are twisted out of joint.

I watch his dirty face, I look into his frozen eyes and I feel kindred to him. He's lost all hope, all sense that life can be something beautiful, just like me. But then his face contorts into a mask of agony as the damage I've done to him breaks through whatever drug he?s used to dull the ache of hopelessness. The scream starts as a low wail, then climbs higher and higher in one long avalanche of sound that assaults me. It tears at the wall surrounding me like Willow and her self-centered guilt never could.

Suddenly the flame that had been smothered over and over again by my friends flares up into one huge inferno. The man cries? adding fuel to the rage burning deep within me ? I can't stand the man because he is just like me.

I have to make the noise stop! I have to stop it before it consumes me! I can't let the pain out! If I do, if I let the pain out, then I will hurt her. And so help me God, as much as I hate her right now, I still love her, too.

"Shut up!" I shout into his face. "Just shut up" I yell at him trying to get him to just stop. My words are useless as his knees begin to buckle so that I'm holding him up by his injured arm. Over and over he wails, like a pitiful wounded animal that deserves to have mercy.

He doesn't deserve mercy. I don?t deserve mercy and it?s now my face staring back at me with bright panicked eyes.

I look down at my open hand; I clench it into a claw and see the tendons clearly outlined against the bone. If my hands can crush bones what else could they do? He's on his knees before me; his head tilted back so all I have to do is reach down and place my claw around his exposed throat. Instantly the wailing is choked off. So I lift and then carry him until he's pushed up against the rough brick wall of the alleyway. I see a flash of something in his hand, the one that I haven't ruined, and he's hitting me with it over and over.

It's too hard to reach down and see if he has a pulse, so I turn away to go home.

?He stabbed you in the arm.? She says behind me. ?While you were not actually killing him, he stabbed you in the arm.?