Butterflies and Stars: Save My Soul
By Megan

TITLE: Butterflies and Stars: Save My Soul
AUTHOR: Megan
RATED: PG-13
DISLAIMER: The characters belong to Joss, the WB and Fox.

Therein a large terror rose up inside of me, though I could give it no substance, no firm ground upon which I could base my claims. A thousand butterflys flew past me and one stopped above my head where it died and fell to my feet. The stars above me wail in horror and I can do nothing but to stand here and wait. Wait for life, wait for death. Wait for the beyond to come and catch me in her arms, to swallow me whole. The entire world begins to move quickly, enveloping me in the swirl of colors of which I can make non out. Nothing stands to greet my awaiting eyes, nothing but darkness. I reach out to make contact with my arms, my hands, but I cannot. I am detatched and destined to await my judment so. I am helpless in a maze of a void, the seemingly endless in which I am somehow caught upon. I scream, but the sound does not resoniate upon my yonder ears. My eyes are useless and I shut them, the tears wetting my face. I make no sound, or if do, I cannot hear the pitch. I hear a shallow sound that rumbles low and slowly, as if to build up fear. I can feel arms now and am ever grateful, though to the being to which they belong to I know not. I open my useless eyes and see that they once again serve their dutiful purpose. I am surrounded by bodies, and with a quivering hand I reach out to take a pulse. It is faint and growes ever slower by the moment. I stand and see a faint light. The moon! Oh the moon! I never have seen such a more beautious sight in all my years of searching.

I grope with bloodied hands towards the source of this delight but it is taken ayway from me before I may reach my goal. A desperate sound escapes my lips as I am left in my darkness once more. I am lost; must I grope about in order to provide an escape for myself and perhaps for the daughters and sons of yesteryear that lie upon each other to wither.
I must realize that nothing can be done in darkness, nothing that shall yeld a fruitful purpose. As this registers in my mind I lay down among the bodies, oblivous to the fact they may be corpes. As I drift off the last thing that drowns my mind is 'what if the light never returns? What if I am destined to die here?'

My eyes flutter open and to their shallow disapointment, they are met with blackness even darker than before. Perhaps I was wrong to believe that the light would return, perhaps I was wrong.

I do not know how many days have gone by, I am hurt-I can feel it, and I am hungry. I have not seen a single living person since the day I was captured and I am scared. For the first time in my entire life I am really, truelly scared for my life. If I am not nourished, I do not know what I will do. I have heard about cannibalism, but hope that I must not make that decision for I am not ready for it emotionally. I never shall be. I have done exploring, if I am to not be nourished I must find a way out as soon as possible, the longer I wait, the more my strength shall deminish.

If my body's clock is correct, yesterday I found a place where there is moisture on the brick walls. I sucked it dry, it was water and it was the most wonderful taste I have ever experienced. I think I read somewhere that you can survive for a week without food but only two days without water. If I am correct, I have been here five days and went three of them without the water; the first I believe I slept the entire time so therefor was not in constant need for water as I am now.
It is starting to smell rather bad, if you struck about twenty dead bodies, and a live person who has not washed for five days together in place about the size of Giles' living room, you would know what I am talking about.

On top of that, it has been really hot in here and the bodys are decomposing all around me. I have made up my mind about the whole cannible thing-if it comes to that, I'm going to commit suicide. I know I sound really gloomy, but five days is a long time to go without hearing a human voice. Although, funny as it sounds, I miss Giles' the worst. He was always just-just, just well. Just Giles. He was sweet and-I must stop talking in the past tense. I am not dead and neither is he, nor do I plan on doing so anytime soon.

I am so desperate now-it is the seventh day and I have not seen the moon since I first did seven days ago. I wonder what Giles is doing? Is he preparing my funeral? Oh Giles! I do not mean to cause you any grief. My lips struggle to form words, to cry out against my imprisionment-but alas! I am unable to do so. So in light I must settle for my battle cry to rest upon my partched lips, lips that have not tasted water for two days.

All I can think of is Giles, how much I love him and how much he means to me. Something is different, something inside me has changed and I see now that I do not love him like a father- I love him like a man. Salty tears run down my cheeks. Why did take me so long to see that?

And now I fear that my last breath is upon me, dear God may I just die a simple death!

There is darkess, lasting, perminite darkness that scorns my soul. And I take a breath. A breath? But how can that be....? My eyes flutter open and I look wildly around me. Giles is sitting over me, a washcloth in his hand and a loving look upon his face.

"Giles," I say, amazed that my lips are not dry and my voice not ruff. "Giles, what happened."

"You were knocked unconsious in a fight yesterday and I carried you here. How do you feel?"

Ignoring his question, I proceed to tell him of my dream.

"Really," he says in his 'I'm so very interested I'm about to pee my pants' way. "I was just reading up on butterflies and stars. They both symbolize the soul, the butterfly dying symbolizes that something deep inside you is changing and that your outlook on life will be reborn; the weeping stars indicate that it will be a rather large change for you and you will be sorry for it until you grow into it; the bright colors mean that it will be a good thing though from the blackness you may not realize it for a while."

I nod, the change in me must be how I think about him that is changing; I have to speak up before he starts researching again.

"Giles, kiss me," I say simply, astonished at how easily it flows from my lips and loving the feel of the words; they are like sweet honey to my ears.

Giles looks at me like I have grown another head. "W-what?"

I reach for him and pull his face towards mine until our lips are inches from each other. "Kiss me," I whisper.

Finally after a brief hesitation on Giles' part, his lips brush softly against mine, like a lovers embrace he is sweet and loving.

We pull away gasping for breath and I smile at him.

"In my dream, when I was about to die, all I could think about was you, your voice. You."

"Buffy, ever been to Nicolinoe's?" he askes me.

"Nope," I say before I realized that he is trying to ask me out to dinner. "I would love to," I reply to his furrowed brows.

END