Story: "Retrospect" - piece 5 - G
Title: Retrospect piece 5
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: G
Fandom: Ats/BtVS
Disclaimer: I do not own
Summary: Galen's thoughts.
There were pieces now.
Sometimes Galen dreamt that he was someone else. Someone whole, but he still wasn't sure who that person was, only that they had a certain weight about them. It seemed like he knew a lot, had lived through a lot, and his life was complicated, but it all fit together like overlapping pieces of a puzzle.
Then sometimes he dreamed that he was captured. Wolfram and Hart had him, or some unnameable place that was harsh and dark at the same time. Deep in the earth, buried in glass and concrete. They drilled into his head. They smashed his head in, violently. Again and again the blows fell from a faceless attacker. The pieces scattered. His bone, his skull, his blood and brains everywhere. They could never be put back together.
In the dreams he watched this happen to himself, to this other person that he was. He didn't exist as anything but an onlooker until the damage was done, and then his concern allowed him to scramble into the carnage.
It's a mess. All over his hands, a huge confusing, terrible disarray of emotion and blood and nothingness. He scrambles for meaning, to even remember what it was he was trying to fix. It was something important, but now there is nothing but darkness and little bits of himself.
He would never be able to recover all of the pieces, but he had a few.
One was a name.
Spike.
It started like a slip. Once in a while, someone would call him by that name, especially Buffy. It was only recently, when the slip started growing even more, that Galen began to suspect.... Suspect that there wasn't some other familiar person. Suspect that they used that name...because it was his name.
He couldn't prove it. He quickly realized that if he mentioned it at all, there was a short denial and then they became more careful about what they said around him, and that was uncomfortable. Once he pretended that he didn't even notice, he was able to realize how frequently the name was used.
Buffy was fast asleep. A heavy sleeper, that girl, especially when she had stressful days at work. He'd been awake ever since Willow and Kennedy had woken up to shag. He could still hear them, but they were so quiet he had to wonder if they'd fallen asleep again in each other's arms.
Galen slid out of bed, careful not to wake Buffy. The room was a bit cold, especially away from his lover's warmth. He couldn't find a shirt anywhere, and after a few minutes of feeling around in the dark, he gave up and left the room anyway.
The house was quiet on his way to the kitchen, but once he was there, he knew he wasn't alone. There was a quiet breath, the slightest rustle of clothes to let him know that there was someone in the kitchen already. "Morning, Dawn," he said quietly, leaning his elbows on the counter.
"It's not morning," Dawn responded in an equally quiet voice after a moment. "Well, technically it is but it's just past midnight."
"Oh. Why're you up?"
"I couldn't sleep very well," Dawn said. "I'm just... thinking."
"'Bout what?"
There was no way she could tell him the truth. That she was scared. Scared about the future. Scared of turning eighteen, adulthood and decisions. College, the pressure of choosing the right life path. No matter what she did, she felt that she was making a huge mistake. She couldn't walk away from Wolfram and Hart's offer. She couldn't tell him anything about it, for his sake.
"I just... have an essay due," Dawn said, which was hardly much of a lie, with all of her classes. She didn't want to think about all of the work she had. "Were you looking for something to eat?"
Galen shrugged his shoulders up. "Was feeling a bit peckish."
"Let me guess," Dawn said, already pulling the fridge door open. "Green jello. I'm on it." She searched for a cup, but there were no greens left. Instead she took out a blue cup and gave it to him. Buffy had determined a while ago that although Galen was a picky eater sometimes, he really couldn't tell the difference between one type of jello or another. A great crisis was averted then, and it saved them from having to buy individual jellos now.
"Thanks," Galen said. He felt along the drawers until he found the silverware and fetched himself a spoon. "So what's it about?" he asked as he opened his snack.
"What's what about?"
"Your assignment," Galen reminded her. "What's the topic?"
"Uh, it's kind of lame," Dawn said. "It's about zodiacs and horoscopes and stuff. You know, the year of the pig, or Leo and Aquarius."
Galen held back a laugh. "What are they having you write on that?"
"It's... I don't know."
"You believe in that stuff?" Galen asked, seeking out her form. He could barely see her at all, with little contrast of light to assist him.
"I think it fits a lot of the time. It's not a sure thing, but for some people... some people are ruled by the day they were born," Dawn said.
"I don't buy it," Galen said. "It's a bit of coincidence sometimes, but you'd be a fool to let it decide your life."
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: G
Fandom: Ats/BtVS
Disclaimer: I do not own
Summary: Galen's thoughts.
There were pieces now.
Sometimes Galen dreamt that he was someone else. Someone whole, but he still wasn't sure who that person was, only that they had a certain weight about them. It seemed like he knew a lot, had lived through a lot, and his life was complicated, but it all fit together like overlapping pieces of a puzzle.
Then sometimes he dreamed that he was captured. Wolfram and Hart had him, or some unnameable place that was harsh and dark at the same time. Deep in the earth, buried in glass and concrete. They drilled into his head. They smashed his head in, violently. Again and again the blows fell from a faceless attacker. The pieces scattered. His bone, his skull, his blood and brains everywhere. They could never be put back together.
In the dreams he watched this happen to himself, to this other person that he was. He didn't exist as anything but an onlooker until the damage was done, and then his concern allowed him to scramble into the carnage.
It's a mess. All over his hands, a huge confusing, terrible disarray of emotion and blood and nothingness. He scrambles for meaning, to even remember what it was he was trying to fix. It was something important, but now there is nothing but darkness and little bits of himself.
He would never be able to recover all of the pieces, but he had a few.
One was a name.
Spike.
It started like a slip. Once in a while, someone would call him by that name, especially Buffy. It was only recently, when the slip started growing even more, that Galen began to suspect.... Suspect that there wasn't some other familiar person. Suspect that they used that name...because it was his name.
He couldn't prove it. He quickly realized that if he mentioned it at all, there was a short denial and then they became more careful about what they said around him, and that was uncomfortable. Once he pretended that he didn't even notice, he was able to realize how frequently the name was used.
Buffy was fast asleep. A heavy sleeper, that girl, especially when she had stressful days at work. He'd been awake ever since Willow and Kennedy had woken up to shag. He could still hear them, but they were so quiet he had to wonder if they'd fallen asleep again in each other's arms.
Galen slid out of bed, careful not to wake Buffy. The room was a bit cold, especially away from his lover's warmth. He couldn't find a shirt anywhere, and after a few minutes of feeling around in the dark, he gave up and left the room anyway.
The house was quiet on his way to the kitchen, but once he was there, he knew he wasn't alone. There was a quiet breath, the slightest rustle of clothes to let him know that there was someone in the kitchen already. "Morning, Dawn," he said quietly, leaning his elbows on the counter.
"It's not morning," Dawn responded in an equally quiet voice after a moment. "Well, technically it is but it's just past midnight."
"Oh. Why're you up?"
"I couldn't sleep very well," Dawn said. "I'm just... thinking."
"'Bout what?"
There was no way she could tell him the truth. That she was scared. Scared about the future. Scared of turning eighteen, adulthood and decisions. College, the pressure of choosing the right life path. No matter what she did, she felt that she was making a huge mistake. She couldn't walk away from Wolfram and Hart's offer. She couldn't tell him anything about it, for his sake.
"I just... have an essay due," Dawn said, which was hardly much of a lie, with all of her classes. She didn't want to think about all of the work she had. "Were you looking for something to eat?"
Galen shrugged his shoulders up. "Was feeling a bit peckish."
"Let me guess," Dawn said, already pulling the fridge door open. "Green jello. I'm on it." She searched for a cup, but there were no greens left. Instead she took out a blue cup and gave it to him. Buffy had determined a while ago that although Galen was a picky eater sometimes, he really couldn't tell the difference between one type of jello or another. A great crisis was averted then, and it saved them from having to buy individual jellos now.
"Thanks," Galen said. He felt along the drawers until he found the silverware and fetched himself a spoon. "So what's it about?" he asked as he opened his snack.
"What's what about?"
"Your assignment," Galen reminded her. "What's the topic?"
"Uh, it's kind of lame," Dawn said. "It's about zodiacs and horoscopes and stuff. You know, the year of the pig, or Leo and Aquarius."
Galen held back a laugh. "What are they having you write on that?"
"It's... I don't know."
"You believe in that stuff?" Galen asked, seeking out her form. He could barely see her at all, with little contrast of light to assist him.
"I think it fits a lot of the time. It's not a sure thing, but for some people... some people are ruled by the day they were born," Dawn said.
"I don't buy it," Galen said. "It's a bit of coincidence sometimes, but you'd be a fool to let it decide your life."