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I ' M  S O R R Y  ( O N L Y  I ' M  N O T )

Every time Buffy looks at him she wants to say sheís sorry, wants to force out some kind of mumbled apology which would somehow make this all better.

Make him better.

Make her better than this.

But always the words get caught in her throat and the punches come instead and she tries to wipe the love from his eyes with a one-two punch; her self-loathing scrawled all over his face in coal-black and blue. Thus the cycle goes round once again.

Spike doesnít need her words, he already knows and somehow thatís worse than him never knowing at all.



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