Fic: Me, By Myself
Title: Me, By Myself
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: Post-series
Word count: 260
Prompt: Alone
A/N: Read these first - Awake; This Is How It Works; The Occupant; Deep in Earth
“You are always waiting.”
“What?”
“For him.”
It was day. They were sitting on the roof.
“I have told you before: I am not him,” Illyria said, quietly.
“He’s in you,” she said. “Even if it’s just your memories-”
“That is indisputable. But it is not what you think.” He was gazing out at the city.
She watched him. “…No, it’s not.”
He said, “You called for him, when you were injured.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“No. You were badly injured,” he said. A pause; he was thoughtful today. “If you cannot trust Wesley, then heed me when I tell you there is no one in my mind but I.”
If they were really talking about this… “The relapses. The changes. That’s not you acting out a scene.”
Illyria bristled. “Those are echoes.”
“See, you don’t know that either.”
His gaze snapped to her. “Live out your denial, girl, and see how it serves you. I am utterly alone. I’m not a sharing space, I’m a bloody coffin!” He jumped to his feet and Buffy scrambled to hers. “Your feelings? Are for nothing. Nothing and no one. Bury them.”
And suddenly, on the heels of her anger, Buffy remembered that Illyria was the one who’d killed Spike. Who walked his flesh and took his form. “You might want to watch yourself,” she found herself saying. “If you are alone in there, I’m killing you.”
He laughed. “Let’s have it, then. I’ll say it once more: I’m alone in here. It’s me, just me, all me! Alone in my head!”
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: Post-series
Word count: 260
Prompt: Alone
A/N: Read these first - Awake; This Is How It Works; The Occupant; Deep in Earth
“You are always waiting.”
“What?”
“For him.”
It was day. They were sitting on the roof.
“I have told you before: I am not him,” Illyria said, quietly.
“He’s in you,” she said. “Even if it’s just your memories-”
“That is indisputable. But it is not what you think.” He was gazing out at the city.
She watched him. “…No, it’s not.”
He said, “You called for him, when you were injured.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“No. You were badly injured,” he said. A pause; he was thoughtful today. “If you cannot trust Wesley, then heed me when I tell you there is no one in my mind but I.”
If they were really talking about this… “The relapses. The changes. That’s not you acting out a scene.”
Illyria bristled. “Those are echoes.”
“See, you don’t know that either.”
His gaze snapped to her. “Live out your denial, girl, and see how it serves you. I am utterly alone. I’m not a sharing space, I’m a bloody coffin!” He jumped to his feet and Buffy scrambled to hers. “Your feelings? Are for nothing. Nothing and no one. Bury them.”
And suddenly, on the heels of her anger, Buffy remembered that Illyria was the one who’d killed Spike. Who walked his flesh and took his form. “You might want to watch yourself,” she found herself saying. “If you are alone in there, I’m killing you.”
He laughed. “Let’s have it, then. I’ll say it once more: I’m alone in here. It’s me, just me, all me! Alone in my head!”