Haunted: Hunting you I can smell you-alive
by spuffygurl11
Note: Sorry I haven’t updated in forever. Also is not going to end up like sixth season [you'll get what I'm saying if you read].

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything, okay!




“My wounds cry for the grave,
My soul cries for deliverance,
Will I be denied?
Christ,
Tourniquet,
My suicide –Evanescence

Buffy Summers wanted to die. Death was what she did, what she breathed, what she dreamed about night, she killed, and she took lives until one day someone took hers.

She would tell herself that in the end good triumphs over evil, the hero’s would save the day while the villains would have to pay, it was her internal nursery rhyme, and it was all a lie. The realization of what she was really sank in when she staked Ford, her friend from childhood became a vampire voluntarily, and she had to kill him, and at the moment when she saw his tomb stone the harsh reality formed in her mind, she’d always be alone. Angel losing his soul just reinforced her thoughts, suddenly she was thinking beyond the next morning, Buffy thought about her future and even if they found a way to get Angel back she wasn’t sure she could be with him, forgive him, or even look at him with the extra weight on her all ready heavy mind.

Innocent people die and their killers get away with it, life all around her was filled with poisonous injustice.

But it would never happen to her, she told herself, she would always win, she would save the day, and she had to save the day. And no matter how much she pushed it out of her mind, no matter how many people told her it wasn’t her fault, the stinging truth would whisper into her ear, she killed Angel.

He was dead and would never come back, this truth cut through her soul like the sight of an innocent having fangs pierce their skin, blood being drained until they were dead, or worse a shell of the dead.

This truth hurt her so much because it was all her fault.

Death used to be feared by her, like shadows around a four year olds room that were very real, now it was something she wanted, she wanted to get out, she wanted to forget everything, everyone, she wanted the pain to stop.

Giles might think being the slayer was a gift, she thought it was a curse. Why was she chosen? A valley girl from California chosen to protect the world from evil, who the hell made that decision?

Why couldn’t the clock turn back to a time where she was blissfully ignorant, her worst problem was her parents fighting and her teachers giving her too much homework?

She knew her friends resented her for this, she knew deep inside they’d rather have died at the harvest then have their childhoods snatched from their grasp by the reality of evil beings trying to kill every day unless they stopped it.

This was why she wouldn’t tell her mother, she wouldn’t take away the bliss of ignorance from her, not after what it did to herself. But it scared her that her mother might die without knowing that her daughter wasn’t in a gang and didn’t sleep with stalker college boys, maybe she’d understand, or maybe she’d send her back to that mental hospital back in L.A.

Then there was Spike. She wanted him.

Her body longed for him to hold it, her lips ached for his, she lusted for him and the darkness, and she wanted to live in the shadows, with him.

He’s evil she reminded herself, isn’t he? He killed as much as her if less, from his point of view she was the evil one.

Was she evil? Because of her Jenny was dead, so she was a killer.

“What’s the point, what do I have to live for anymore? Nothing! It doesn’t matter, nothing matters!” She screamed into the empty depths of her house.

Tears ran down her face as she ran from her once comforting now haunting home. As if in a trance she walked into the frigid air of a graveyard.

Swirls of grey fog enveloped her legs in breaths of ice, as if freezing the blood in her veins. inking to the ground Buffy leaned onto a headstone, the marble hidden by a layer of grime: dust, dirt, and blood.

The moons form was barley visible in the lingering mist, its milky outline looking eerily foreboding against the ominous graves.

The air around her changed from the morbid stillness to something completely different, it was primal, like an animal about to attack its prey, her.

Slowly rising from the miasma that shielded her from sight Buffy clasped her white hand around the roughly sharpened piece of wood in her thin jacket waiting for the assault that was surely to come.

Creeping through the graveyard he saw the slayer, alone, her face was pale and tearstained, her eyes blank and hollow, but she was still had an eerie beauty to her.

Spending what seemed seconds, Spike watched Buffy for hours, drowning in her essence, until she woke from her trance like stupor.

“Please come out whatever you are, I’m really not in the mood for hide and seek,” Buffy quipped in a blank empty voice.

“But it’s such a fun game slayer,” Spike replied his platinum blonde hair shining in the moonlight.

“What do you want Spike?” Buffy retorted, her voice turning cruel and cold.

“Not much, just you,” He answered moving closer to her, he was unfazed by her tone, though not a trace of a smirk crossed his face.

“Not in your unlife Spike!” Buffy spat out the words as if just saying them was distasteful.

“Well you know I don’t give up that easily,” he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Turning her around to face him Spike’s cerulean eyes burned into her green ones.

Spike’s hands around her waist he pulled Buffy possessively towards him causing just a flicker of emotion to show on her face.

“You know you want me,” Spike growled lowly, stroking her golden-haired locks as she went limp in his arms.

“Let me go, Spike,” Buffy more asked then ordered.

“You’re the slayer, make me.” She had a torn look on her face, hadn’t she said earlier it didn’t matter?

But it was lust not love, “Is love what you really want?” Her mind chided and she wanted him, so much.

Before she had a chance to deliberate some more with her mind, Spike’s mouth was against her in a violent, fiery, passionate kiss.

“You do know this isn’t real, I just want to feel?” Buffy asked in between kisses.

“Fine by me,” Spike agreed not really caring, He had her now and that was good enough for now.


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