Lost.
((Note: Continued from HERE
No meaning.
Nothing.
I’ve faught side-by-side with the Slayer on the Hellmouth, enduring my worst nightmares on a weekly basis, but I always got through with my sanity intact. Toss out some jokes, look at Willow and Buffy - hell, even Giles - to remind myself why I was risking life and limb, and everything was allright. Relatively.
But this… it might have been the proverbial straw breaking the camal’s back, or it could have been that I loved her so fucking much that seeing her kill herself in front of me was just too much for me to bear.
No joke, no comforting face of a beloved friend would fix this.
I stared at the spot Anya had just been standing in and couldn’t fomulate a single clear thought.
Nothing. Not even a single tear.
Maybe my mind broke like said camal’s back - lights on but nobody home - ‘cause next thing I know it’s over an hour later and I’m sitting on the floor, back against the wall, still staring at that damn section of floor.
I’m not sure what braught me out of that trance or whatever the hell it was - a shrink would probably call it something like “post-traumatic defensive break” - but I was back in the conscious-of-all-the-stuff-around-me part of my brain.
It would’ve been better if I’d stayed lost in the dark corners of my head. Now that I was forming clear thoughts again, I could only think of how I’d failed again…
I couldn’t save Jesse, and I’d failed to be there for Willow when things started to get out of hand. Yeah, sure, I’d saved the world with a heartfelt speech about yellow crayons, but the damage had already been done to HER. Cordelia, Ema… I’d hurt them both because of my own weakness, and while one had gotten over it and moved on, the other was now dead. Just how big a role had I played in that?
And then there was Anya. I’d hurt her in the worst possible way you could hurt the person you claimed to love, and the fact that she’d forgiven me and returned to our relationship was beyond comprehension. I hadn’t dared question it. I’d heared too many sayings about tempting fate and looking horses in their mouths or whatever it was that all just meant that when something REALLY good comes into your life, especially for the second time, just fucking go with it!
But somehow I’d still managed to destroy it. One way or another my actions had led to this moment.
So, I sat there on the floor in a hotel full of my friends and dozens of strangers and felt completely and utterly alone. I think I finally had a real idea of what Buffy went through when she sent Angel to Hell in order to stop Acathla.
Helpless. Soul-wrenching pain. Hollow.
Finally tearing my eyes away from the floor, I looked down at my hands which I held palms up, inspecting them. What good were they? Sure, they looked strong, and could build and repair the splintered remains of our homes after attacks from our many enemies, but they weren’t strong enough to hold on to those I loved. One by one they were slipping through my grip.
Then, I had a revelation: I could fix a thousand windows, a hundred doors and a couple dozen tables, but all it was was just little patches. Small bandages to cover up and hide the scars from a leathal virus - the monsters. But Buffy had the ability to FIGHT the virus, to kill it.
Its about power.
That’s why I couldn’t protect those around me. I didn’t have any power. Buffy could only do so much, even with Willow and the others helping.
My mind flashed back to what I had told Shang-Da and the one thing I’d left out.
Inevitability.
My power existed, but it was waiting for me to claim it. And it was time to do so. Before I lost anyone else.
I briefly thought about going to Buffy, Willow and Giles and saying goodbye. Try to explain. But I didn’t have the words. There really wasn’t anything I could say to make them understand, so I’d just have to show them.
With a determination I rarely knew, I pulled the out my pocket knife. Gripping it in my right hand, I sliced open my left palm and raised it over my head. Then, I recited the words that Helene had drilled into my head before I’d come back from Peridia.
“With my blood, I claim the throne.
Through victory do I declare myself Krihl.
In the footsteps of the great warriors I follow.
With the guidance of the spirits of the past,
I shall lead our people through continued glory.
Spirits, I call on thee!
Give me the strength and wisdom to rule!
Come to me now!”
Yeah, not the Gettysburg Address, but it got the job done, though not quite in the way I’d anticipated…
Images and thoughts, strange words and their meanings began to flow into my mind, slow at first, then faster. It was a rush! I think this is how Neo felt in the First Matrix movie when Tank downloaded kung-fu into his head. But, then, something went wonkey and I got a little bit more than I’d bargained for.
“Oh… shit!” I grabbed my head, my mouth open in a silent scream as a flood of images, sounds and smells poured in.
And not all of it unfamiliar.
I lost consciousness.
No meaning.
Nothing.
I’ve faught side-by-side with the Slayer on the Hellmouth, enduring my worst nightmares on a weekly basis, but I always got through with my sanity intact. Toss out some jokes, look at Willow and Buffy - hell, even Giles - to remind myself why I was risking life and limb, and everything was allright. Relatively.
But this… it might have been the proverbial straw breaking the camal’s back, or it could have been that I loved her so fucking much that seeing her kill herself in front of me was just too much for me to bear.
No joke, no comforting face of a beloved friend would fix this.
I stared at the spot Anya had just been standing in and couldn’t fomulate a single clear thought.
Nothing. Not even a single tear.
Maybe my mind broke like said camal’s back - lights on but nobody home - ‘cause next thing I know it’s over an hour later and I’m sitting on the floor, back against the wall, still staring at that damn section of floor.
I’m not sure what braught me out of that trance or whatever the hell it was - a shrink would probably call it something like “post-traumatic defensive break” - but I was back in the conscious-of-all-the-stuff-around-me part of my brain.
It would’ve been better if I’d stayed lost in the dark corners of my head. Now that I was forming clear thoughts again, I could only think of how I’d failed again…
I couldn’t save Jesse, and I’d failed to be there for Willow when things started to get out of hand. Yeah, sure, I’d saved the world with a heartfelt speech about yellow crayons, but the damage had already been done to HER. Cordelia, Ema… I’d hurt them both because of my own weakness, and while one had gotten over it and moved on, the other was now dead. Just how big a role had I played in that?
And then there was Anya. I’d hurt her in the worst possible way you could hurt the person you claimed to love, and the fact that she’d forgiven me and returned to our relationship was beyond comprehension. I hadn’t dared question it. I’d heared too many sayings about tempting fate and looking horses in their mouths or whatever it was that all just meant that when something REALLY good comes into your life, especially for the second time, just fucking go with it!
But somehow I’d still managed to destroy it. One way or another my actions had led to this moment.
So, I sat there on the floor in a hotel full of my friends and dozens of strangers and felt completely and utterly alone. I think I finally had a real idea of what Buffy went through when she sent Angel to Hell in order to stop Acathla.
Helpless. Soul-wrenching pain. Hollow.
Finally tearing my eyes away from the floor, I looked down at my hands which I held palms up, inspecting them. What good were they? Sure, they looked strong, and could build and repair the splintered remains of our homes after attacks from our many enemies, but they weren’t strong enough to hold on to those I loved. One by one they were slipping through my grip.
Then, I had a revelation: I could fix a thousand windows, a hundred doors and a couple dozen tables, but all it was was just little patches. Small bandages to cover up and hide the scars from a leathal virus - the monsters. But Buffy had the ability to FIGHT the virus, to kill it.
Its about power.
That’s why I couldn’t protect those around me. I didn’t have any power. Buffy could only do so much, even with Willow and the others helping.
My mind flashed back to what I had told Shang-Da and the one thing I’d left out.
Inevitability.
My power existed, but it was waiting for me to claim it. And it was time to do so. Before I lost anyone else.
I briefly thought about going to Buffy, Willow and Giles and saying goodbye. Try to explain. But I didn’t have the words. There really wasn’t anything I could say to make them understand, so I’d just have to show them.
With a determination I rarely knew, I pulled the out my pocket knife. Gripping it in my right hand, I sliced open my left palm and raised it over my head. Then, I recited the words that Helene had drilled into my head before I’d come back from Peridia.
“With my blood, I claim the throne.
Through victory do I declare myself Krihl.
In the footsteps of the great warriors I follow.
With the guidance of the spirits of the past,
I shall lead our people through continued glory.
Spirits, I call on thee!
Give me the strength and wisdom to rule!
Come to me now!”
Yeah, not the Gettysburg Address, but it got the job done, though not quite in the way I’d anticipated…
Images and thoughts, strange words and their meanings began to flow into my mind, slow at first, then faster. It was a rush! I think this is how Neo felt in the First Matrix movie when Tank downloaded kung-fu into his head. But, then, something went wonkey and I got a little bit more than I’d bargained for.
“Oh… shit!” I grabbed my head, my mouth open in a silent scream as a flood of images, sounds and smells poured in.
And not all of it unfamiliar.
I lost consciousness.