TITLE: Jarred
AUTHOR: Ragna (writinggoddess@aol.com)
RATING: FRT for dealing with a harsh issue.
CLASSIFICATION: Buffy/Spike, but not in a good way.
SUMMARY: Buffy reflects on a few minutes of hell in her life.
SPOILERS: Takes place during "Seeing Red" in season 6.
DISTRIBUTION: Any sites with my fic up; you all have unspoken permission. I write it, you can post it. Everyone else just keep my name on it and let me know.
DISCLAIMER: If you don't recognize it, chances are it's my own creation. If you do, I don't own it. Joss Whedon, Kazui Sandollar, The WB, UPN, et. al. most likely do.
FEEDBACK: Please send it offlist and let me know it's feedback; I do rapid delete on my account due to a lot of spam.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I prefer to think this episode never ever happened. Ever. So here's my way of dealing with it.
DEDICATED TO: Rain. Get better soon, okay?

***

When things started to come into focus again, the first thing Buffy felt, aside from the cold tile floor of the bathroom, was a sense of wrongness. it wasn't a new feeling; she'd felt that way since she came back from Heaven, since she first slept with Spike...

But this time, it was such a real feeling. Something that sickened her to the very core of her being. She clutched the towel even tighter, and then dropped it, afraid to touch anything he'd touched.

And her head hurt, it hurt so badly... She just wanted the night to go away. She wanted to pretend it never happened, that he was never there, that he'd never talked about passion and never apologized and never...and never...

God, she wanted to throw up.

She could feel the bruises rising, could feel the bile in her throat. It was just too much. She felt too much, too soon. She just wanted to stop feeling for a moment, step out of herself and figure our what the hell had just happened.

In her brain, logically, she knew what had just happened. She could say it, but she didn't want to. She hadn't thought he could do it. She didn't want to put words to actions and thoughts to mental pictures. She didn't want to believe it.

She didn't want to believe Spike had almost raped her, on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.

The door opened and she wanted to scream for whoever it was to leave, to go away. She wanted to cover the bruises and smile her fake, plastic smile, the one she had practiced hard at over the years, and say that everything was okay.

But she just couldn't. She was so tired and shell-shocked, she just couldn't.

And then she looked up and saw Xander.

And it all came tumbling out.