Jenny wouldn't let me sleep til I wrote this. I need to have a chat with this woman about excessivetraumatization of the people who channel her.
He looked so sad, standing there lost and forlorn at the bottom of the stairs, that I got this incredible urge to just hold him. I couldn't, though. It wasn't going to be ok, a simple "I'm sorry" wasn't going to make it better, and talking about my personal experience with demon possession wasn't going to make the nightmares go away.
Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I'm looking through its eyes. I can almost hear it's voice echoing in my head. It doesn't matter that I know it's gone. It's still there in my imagination, and I can't seem to get rid of it.
Gods, it hurts--to look at him and know he's the one who caused it. That he let the demon inside him willingly. He...sometimes I look at Rupert and I see *it*.
I hope I never see Ethan again. Giles is Giles, he's--if not forgiven or forgotten, he's the Watcher, and that makes up for some of it, but if I ever see Ethan again I'll kill him.
Maybe, given some time, I'll be all right.
Willow, Xander, and Cordelia all want to make sure I'm ok. Buffy's giving me some space, going to comfort Giles. Cordelia's idea of sympathy, though, involves Nieman-Marcus and shoes. She means well...
Willow found a new web page she thought I'd like, one with all sorts of neat hints on Java coding. She did well, but Xander, of all people, beat everyone else out by bringing me Godiva. I don't know where the boy found it, but it was a godsend, believe me.
Maybe I'll be able to look him in the eye tomorrow without flinching. Maybe it'll take me longer. I'll do it, though.
I love him, damnit. I don't know why I didn't realize it until I couldn't bear to be in the same room with him.
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