My Human Side: Trust
by Cheza
Kaeleigh was numb inside. The water pouring down on her was broiling hot, but she couldn‘t feel it. All she felt was cold. Is this what its going to feel like...after? She asked herself. It had been nearly half an hour since Ian’s departure, and the tiniest voice of doubt had crept into her mind. Each time it tried to speak, she silenced it. Ian would never lead her down the wrong path. He was saving her from pain and suffering later.

She got out of the shower and toweled herself off. After roughly drying her hair, she looked at the mirror. A small smile of satisfaction crept across her face. Her short hair was fluffed in all different directions, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t purple anymore. After Ian had given her instructions on what to do, he’d reminded her, almost lovingly, that she’d promised to dye her hair back on Friday. It seemed silly compared to what she was about to do, but a promise was a promise. Besides, she didn’t want to be buried with bright purple hair.

She’d rummaged around under the Slayers sink and found a bottle of black hair dye. Although she didn’t know it, it was property of Buffy’s sister Dawn. She’d been thinking of dying her hair before the Evil Willow fiasco and had simply forgotten about the dye afterwards. Kae didn’t know any of that, but she was glad for the dye. Carefully she dressed herself in some clothes she’d found in the hamper- no sense taking a shower just to put on dirty clothes. Not that it would really matter anyway.

Then she spread a towel in the bottom of the tub and sat down on it. She didn’t want to make the Slayer clean up blood from her bathroom floor. In her right hand she held a sharp kitchen knife. As she turned her left wrist over, she noticed something for the first time. There was a long, jagged scar running from her elbow to her wrist. It looked like badly healed scratch marks. She wondered where they could have come from. Then she shook her head to clear her thoughts, steeled herself to do what she knew she had to, and raised the knife.

At the same time, Spike was walking down the hallway. Although he was trying to get used to sleeping at night, he couldn’t help it. He was still a vampire, and he often found himself awake at all hours. When returning to sleep proved futile, he’d decided to do a quick patrol around the house. Mostly he wanted a reason to check in on Buffy’s sleeping form.

As he wandered through the house, his senses were on high alert. It was just a relaxed walk through the house, but no sense in being sloppy about it. He tensed and he heard a heavy groan above him, but relaxed when he realized it was just the water pipes. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was past one in the morning. Who would be taking a shower at this time of morning? Hoping it might be her, he hurried up the steps, planning to casually walk by and just happen to be around when she came out of the bathroom.

He was utterly pathetic, he knew. He wouldn’t really say anything to her. He knew he didn’t have a chance in hell with Buffy. Their time, as she had bluntly put it, was over. But he still loved her. He lived for every moment that he was allowed in her presence.
As he loitered around the hallway, he passed Buffy’s bedroom. He could sense someone inside, and by their rhythmic breathing, they were sound asleep. He wondered who might be in the shower then, if it wasn’t her, before deciding that it didn’t really matter. All he needed was to run into Harris at 1 am. With a sigh, he turned to leave, before stopping suddenly. His nostrils flared as he caught an all-to-familiar scent. It was very faint, but it was the smell of blood. A vampire never forgets that smell.

Curious, and a bit alarmed, he moved closer to the bathroom. Inside he could hear the sounds of someone, definably female, crying softly. He quirked his eyebrow and thought to himself, well, its really none of my business. But then the smell waived out to him, and he knew he had to check, just to make sure everything was okay. Damned soul. Before he would have been crashing through the door to eat whatever poor morsel was dumb enough to bleed herself with a vamp around.

He didn’t bother to knock. Instead he gently pushed the door open and stuck his head in. Inside, a girl was bent over in the tub. As she heard the door squeak, she jerked her head up. Their eyes met and Spike was nearly knocked sideways by the pure intensity in her clear, forest green eyes. “Help me.” She whispered, holding out her arm. Blood was dripping, slowly but steadily, from it. “It went wrong. Ian was wrong. It isn’t easy. I don’t want to die. He was wrong. It’s all wrong.” She sobbed incoherently.


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