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I Still Believe

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Summary: The Host had never heard such pain come from one girl.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Supernatural > Buffy-Centered > Pairing: Dean WinchesterAwesomeGeekFR1312,290151,95611 Aug 1011 Aug 10Yes
Disclaimer: BtVS and Supernatural are owned by their creators, Eric Kripke and Joss Whedon. This is for entertainment purposes only. Lyrics belong to In This Moment.
Notes: I'm gonna dedicate this fic to my partner in crime, Sunriserooftops on The Rooftop .


The bar was situated out of the way and to the untrained eye it looked like any other abandoned building hidden throughout the dark streets of Los Angeles. Those who knew its true nature, however, knew that you only came here when you needed something; and tonight, she did, all because of her dreams. Thanks to them, for the first time in her life, she didn’t trust her gut instinct; she needed help.

Help in this case came in the form of a tall, green guy known only as ‘The Host’. He had come highly recommended from a friend. This ‘friend’ wasn’t privy to why she needed this kind of help in the first place, but he had brought her to this place… ‘Caritas’ he called it. Between that moment and this, everything was a blur and now here she was, ready to bare her soul to a bunch of strangers.

She had done worse but this was still a little unnerving.
 
As she stepped up on to the wooden stage, the harsh contrast of the darkened room and the bright spotlight momentarily dazed her. The audience was only a few feet from her but against the harsh backdrop they appeared as nothing more than silhouettes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and her palms were moist with sweat as she walked to the centre of the stage. She hated singing in all its forms but she reserved a special kind of loathing for karaoke. 
 
She shook herself mentally, this guy hadn’t given her an option. He had told her that’s how he worked; he could only read her through listening to her sing.

As she heard the first keys of the song she had chosen to sing, she gripped the microphone tightly in both hands, licking her lips she allowed herself to fall into the music.

“Can anybody tell me why,
We're lying here on the floor,
And neither of us can barely breathe at all?
The doctors saying hold on tight,
As we say our last goodbyes,
And this is, a moment that changes our whole lives.”

The patrons of ‘Caritas’ stopped and turned their full attention to the young woman. Her soft voice carried throughout the bar, penetrating every darkened corner in the room.

All conversations came to an abrupt halt as they each heard the pain coming from this unique creature. Her voice held so much emotion that they all found it difficult to refrain from feeling her pain, be it sympathy or empathy.

The regulars had thought they had seen it all; they had seen girls singing of their man troubles or old men singing over their lost loves, but this girl was singing of a heart so broken they wondered how she could even form the words of the song.  Her story was age old; she had lost the love of her life and the only way she could let her pain out was through song, the lyrical unbundling of her soul.

“And I still believe in the good,
And I still believe in the light,
And I wanna feel the sun,
I wanna free you tonight.
And I still believe in the good,
And I still believe in the light,
And I wanna feel the sun,
I wanna free you tonight.”

Through the music, ‘The Host’ watched her bare her soul. It wasn’t hard for him to see her pain; her aura was shrouded in it. He didn’t know how she got through the day, let alone the past 3 years with that hanging over her head, but as she continued to sing he saw her life unfold in full Technicolor; pain was part of her way of life.
 
He had heard stories of this woman, and when he had been introduced to her he had seen the power she wielded within; now that power was probably the only thing keeping her going. He watched as she had captivated the whole audience; he had never seen anything like it before. They all listened to her tale, unable to tear their eyes from her.

“I'm staring deep into your eyes,
They're telling me the time has come,
And I know you're ready to rise and sail home,
The room is filling up with light,
As we say our last goodnight,
I thank you for every second of your life.”

Remembering that night so vividly, the woman couldn’t stop the tears that had begun to fall. Memories of her running through the corridors of the hospital and out in to the open, only coming to a stop when she felt the cool rain falling upon her, flooded her mind. The last thing she had heard before she had fled was the tone of the heart monitor as it flat lined.

He had told her to go.

He said that he didn’t want her to see him die. She had travelled so far to see him but she hadn’t expected him to turn her away. They had been through so much together and had faced so many obstacles that it killed her inside to think he didn’t want her. She fought him, telling him that she wouldn’t just leave; that she wouldn’t abandon him.  She had told him over and over again that she was never leaving, but he had made her promise that when the time came, she would walk away and forget about him. The last promise for a dying man isn’t something broken lightly, so she had done had he had asked; she had left when his heart stopped beating and she had run - in some ways she was still running.

The problem wasn’t the leaving, the problem was forgetting; she could never forget him. His memory haunted her still, plaguing her thoughts constantly. After a while it stopped hurting as much and she had thought she was finally moving on… then came the dreams. At first she had convinced herself that that’s all they were, dreams, but something inside had told her different.

“And I still believe in the good,
And I still believe in the light,
And I wanna feel the sun,
I wanna free you tonight.
And I still believe in the good,
And I still believe in the light,
And I wanna feel the sun,
I wanna free you…”

The tears were flowing freely now; she couldn’t hold back the pain inside. Three years of loneliness and hurting were pouring out of her. She had become rather adept at hiding it now… to the outside world she was back to normal; happy even. Night was when the emptiness would take hold and she would lie awake trying to block out the memories that would threaten to bring the back the tears and the pain. 

She had tried to throw herself deeper into her work, but nothing could take away that heavy feeling in her heart. Her friends had tried to help her by saying comforting if not clichéd speeches about how they were sorry… how things would get easier… how it would get better…  it never did.

“And I'm falling, watching as your hurting,
I'm down here I'm on my knees,
How can I survive?
And you turn to me and promise me you're ready,
And tell me you'll be waiting on the other side.”

At that last line, the Host smiled to himself; he found it, the thing which would bring this woman’s heartache to an end. He knew it wasn’t much, but what it brought was hope; something she had been lacking for so long. She would need to forgive, for without it then she would not have the life that he had seen laid out for her. Where her past had been about survival, her future was going to bring her the happiness she so deserved.

“And I still believe in the good,
And I still believe in the light,
And I wanna feel the sun,
I wanna free you tonight.
And you showed me all the good,
And you lead me through the light,
And you gave me the sun,
It's time to free you tonight.”

The music stopped and for a moment the silence hung heavy in the air. The woman held her breath; everyone in the bar was staring at her. Some members of the audience had tears streaming down their faces while others just looked sad. Stepping off of the stage, she made her way over to the ‘The Host’ who was situated behind the bar. His face was expressionless. She could feels the eyes of the patrons at the bar watching her; she didn’t know what they were expecting from her. To break down? No, she had done that already.

She wiped away her tears. She had cried enough in the past couple of years, and she was sick of the tears; all she wanted now was answers.

Coming to a stop, she crossed her arms and placed them on the bar. She looked up to see the Host’s eyes bearing down upon her.

“Well? What did you see?” she asked.

The Host let out a deep sigh; he didn’t know where to begin. All the pain and suffering she had went through… he knew he was going to make it worse by telling her what he saw. Even though he knew that it was what she wanted and that she wouldn’t just give up without an answer, he deeply wanted to spare her this.

‘If only you waited, sweetheart, if only you hadn’t run,’
he couldn’t help but think to himself. If she had waited minutes, then she wouldn’t be here now talking to him.

“Please tell me what you saw,” she pleaded, her eyes never leaving his.

The Host gently shook his head, “It’s not for me to tell, cupcake.”

Her expression changed to confusion, “What do you mean? I came here for answers, I sang… you said that all I had to do was sing and you would help me!”

The Host pulled a napkin from across the bar, jotting down some scribbles before handing it over to the woman. “I didn’t say you wouldn’t get your answers, I just said its not for me to tell,” he paused. “ Be at that address at 7pm in seven days.”

Taking the napkin, she read the address, “What‘s there?”

“Who you’re looking for.”

The woman nodded  “Thank you,” she whispered. She turned and walked away from the bar, the napkin clasped tightly in her hand.

Watching her leave, the Host raised his hand to his cheek; he felt the dampness from the tears that he had kept at bay throughout the whole of her song. Looking to the door where the woman had left he smiled, “Aw cupcake, it was my pleasure.”

7 days later

Pulling into the dark, half empty parking lot of the rundown motel, the woman glanced around warily. For the past week she had deliberated as to whether or not coming to this place was a good idea. Even as she sat there in her car, she was undecided, glancing at her watch she realised that she still had time left to abandon this reckless adventure; to flee and never look back. 

She had hoped that going to ‘Caritas’ would have provided her with answers to her questions, but it had only raised more questions. For the past week she had wondered if she truly wanted them answered anymore.

Would she be able to handle them? What if he saw her and turned her away? She gripped the steering wheel tightly in fear.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car. She spared another glance at her watch… 6.59pm.

She exhaled deeply. ‘One minute left’, she thought to herself. She let her gaze scan the parking lot; it was devoid of even the merest hint of life. 

Getting out of the car slowly, she made her way to the room that she had been told held the answers to her questions. The only signs of life coming from the room was the light and the two voices coming from within. Even from so faraway she knew those voices well. She was unable to make out exactly what they were saying, but she knew that they were arguing.

Coming to a stop at the door, she held her breath. Glancing down, she watched the second hand on her watch slowly creep towards the twelve. Ten seconds left to change everything… did she truly want it?

Nine.


Glancing left and right she took in her surroundings. She heard and saw nothing.

Eight.

Licking her dry lips she bit her lip nervously.

Seven.

Brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she looked up at the number painted on the door.

Six.

Raising her hand to knock on the door, she stopped in mid air.

Five.

She stepped back from the door slowly.

Four.

Looking down at the ground she closed her eyes.

Three.

Breathing in deeply, she slowly let it out.

Two.


She head the voice she recognised so clearly getting closer to the door.

One.

The motel room door was thrown open. Opening her eyes the woman looked up to see a familiar face.
“Buffy…?” The man whispered, looking down at the woman. He couldn’t help the shock and confusion marring his features.

The woman smiled, it wasn’t forced or fake; it was an honest smile, one of hope and happiness. She knew in that moment that she didn’t care about the answers - she didn’t need them.

Looking deep into the eyes of the man she loved most in the world, she replied, “Hello Dean.”

The End

You have reached the end of "I Still Believe". This story is complete.

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