Nothing More I Can Do Here
TITTLE: Nothing More I Can Do Here
SUMMARY: Pain, suffering and loss. Arkin's specialty ;-)
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Don't sue.
FEEDBACK: Yes please!
Look at him.
He's sitting on her bed, holding her hand in his. His head bowed. The life had been taken out of him, sitting here watching her die. Slowly, painfuly.
It hasn't sunk in with me, not really. And Hank isn't here yet. The kids are out in the hall, giving him some space.
He's shaking. I can see it now. Then he lifts a hand to her face, traces its lines, wipes some tears of pain and fear.
'I can't help her Joyce. I can't stop this.'
I feel my voice break. 'I know.'
'There's only one thing I can do for her.' He caresses her cheek. His voice is hardly a whisper. 'So much pain. So much...'
He's shaking even more, sobs rocking his body. I can see tears glimmer on his face. 'Do it.' I can barely hear myself. But he does.
He gathers her up and presses her to his chest. 'I'm sorry Buffy, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.' She moans in pain. He pushes her away a little, supporting her head with his hand, and kisses her forehead reverently. His breathing is ragged, trying to hold in the sobs. Than he does it. He twists her knack to the side. The sickening sound of bone snapping, than two cries. His and mine. He collapses over her, crying into her shoulder. I fall to the ground.
I look at them run into the room. Willow collapses in Oz's arms. My mom stagers to her feet and goes to her room, hardly able to hold herself up. Cordy goes with her, trying to help.
Xander just stands there, stares at the body flung across mine. Giles. He's crying so hard I want to reach out and touch him, hug him, make it better for him. Xander does that for me, pulling him away from my body, holding him as his entire body shakes with quiet sobs.
I look at Xander. Tears are silently running down his cheeks, but he's quiet, not even sobbing, just holding Giles. I need him to be strong like that, I need him to be there for Giles like Giles was always there for me. Because now I can't repay him for everything he's done for me. Now I can only watch him as I hurt him in the ultimate pain.
Oz helps Willow to her feet. Xander supports Giles all the way to the kitchen where he slumps into a chair and Xander makes him a cup of tea.
Than he calls 911. They'll say it was a murder, they came here and found me with my neck broken. I'm not even cold yet, but still...
My mom is in her room, her head on Cordy that strokes her hair, as quiet as Xander is. Giles stagers to the living room and does something I never thought I'll see him do: he curls into a ball on the sofa and cries.
The police gets there. They try to get statements from everyone but only Xander talks to them. Someone gives Giles a ride home, my mom calls my dad. Xander and Cordelia leave, and there, out side, he lets himself go and holds on to her for dear life.
I can't stand this. I can't look at the head stone, the little grave, the casket. It's one of those sunny days she loved so much and always made me so home sick. Hardly ever rains here. A perfect place for her to be. Sunny and warm like her.
Like she was. I have to keep telling myself that. I look at the name. It's her. She's the one they're lowering to the ground here. Willow holds my arm, Xander on my other side clutching my hand. They need me to be strong for them but I can only be weak for myself.
How do I live without her? What am I supposed to do when I don't have her to help, to support, to protect? She was the sum of my life. She was the only reason I held on to a life so hard, so demanding as a watcher's. Had she been like Kendra or Faith, I would have left long before the council had fired me. But she wasn't. She was her own person, and I loved her with everything I had.
They start throwing the dirt over the casket. I hear myself scream. That's my life they're burying.
I found him. I wanted to check up on him, see how he was doing.
I'm not sure what it was. Some poison only watchers know of most likely. I wanted to help him but he was already cold. His face is so sad...
There was a note on the table. That organized handwriting he had, as clean cut and evenly spaced as everything else in his life.
"Nothing more I can do here."