It's Too Quiet
I miss him already.
I know it's only been an hour. Hell, he isn't even in Sunnydale yet. Him and Buffy are still in
the car, driving further and further away from me. Driving out of my life.
Okay, I'm depressed. I keep telling myself that sending my beautiful boy from here is the best
thing. But now... now that it's so quiet in here... so very quiet...
My Will has this presence about him that I could never ignore. Even when he was walking
around here as if he were afraid to make a single noise -- which, in reality, he was -- I still could
tell he was here.
No he's not, and it's too damn quiet. Cordelia and Doyle went out for a very, very early
breakfast, leaving me here alone with the silence for company. My demon isn't even making any
noise. He's not taunting me or planting evil thoughts in my head or fighting with me since I
allowed him a bit of control. He's pouting.
I sigh as I glance around my apartment. Everywhere I look I'm reminded of the sweet, hurting
boy who resided with me for nearly a year. The windchime. The second mug in the dish drainer.
The small pile of library books on the floor beside the bed.
I drop down onto the couch, lean my head back and stare up at the open ceiling. An ache has
settled in the middle of my chest. An hour ago, the two that I love most in this world were both
here, in my arms, loving me unequivocally in return. Now, they're both gone, and I'm left alone
again.
I don't like it.
I know I'm suppose to be seeking redemption and I don't deserve any sort of blessings, but
having my sweet Childe here made me feel good, despite the painful circumstances. I know he
was... is... healing, and I played a part in that. I gave him safety. I gave him support. I gave him
my love without strings. It really does sound somewhat egotistical when I think about it, but I
suppose that this is what all fathers feel like when they realize the impact that they had on their
sons' lives.
I hope he'll be okay in Sunnydale. I trust Buffy unconditionally, and I know she'll take care of
him. Rupert is a good man, just like I told Spike, and I trust him to watch over my Childe like he
watches over all of them.
Still, I won't be there to make sure my beautiful Will has what he needs. Or to wake him when
he has a nightmare. Or to be in the bathroom while he takes his shower. Or to make sure he
feeds. Or to hold him when he needs to be held. Or to just sit quietly beside him, allowing him
to feel safe and protected.
Maybe I shouldn't have made him go.
No, I didn't decide wrongly. I need to wholly focus on stopping the Initiative, at least where my
Childe is concerned. Somehow I have to remove the threat to him all together, and the threat to
myself, too, while I'm at it. With Spike here, half of my attention would be on meeting his
needs, which could prove to be a fatal mistake, as it almost was earlier this night.
I know my demon has a differing opinion. He thinks if he was in control, Spike would be just
fine staying with him. However, despite utilizing my mind, my demon is too cocky. He thinks
he's invincible, which would make this body a pile of dust before the entire threat to Spike was
removed. He'd go on a rampage, kill every Initiative he could get his hands on, until they grew
wise to his abilities and took him down.
I, on the other hand, know I'm not infallible, or completely immortal. I have to think with my
head, not my heart. That really sounds silly, come to think of it. The evil, cruel, cold demon
who also inhabits my body is the one with the problems of following his heart. Sometimes unlife
is just too strange.
With another sigh, I bring my hand up to rub my eyes. I wince slightly as the gash in my side is
affected by the movement. I was hurt in the encounter with the Initiative soldier, too, but in areas
easily covered up by a dark shirt. The spiked knuckles the guy had worn ripped a nice hole in my
lower back. My poor boy, though, he got it much worse. Luckily vampiric healing is very rapid
and his cut face should be fine by this afternoon.
His emotional wounds, on the other hand...
I curse myself quietly and rise to my feet. I need to get to work before I start brooding over what
I'd done. I'm a marathon brooder. Once I get going, I can go for weeks without a break. And
that's not going to help my Childe one iota.
First, though, I'm going to put on some music.
It's just too damn quiet in here.
End