abetterlie: (Innocence Drowned by Marciaelena)
Scars, right.

Due to the whole fast healing factor, I only have two which are pretty much invisible unless you know where to look, and I really don't want to talk about dying in the mall again, or about something pretty personal that isn't anyone's business.

In a way I guess super healing is one big cheat, and also really dangerous because sometimes you forget how fragile everyone else is. Sometimes I think people like me who don't have scars of our own, or nearly none, are like big lightning rods, channelling the wounds into everyone else instead. Jasmine could do that, only the other way around - she could take everyone else's wounds into herself and heal them. Maybe that's just the most extreme form of what we do to people. Everyone else gets scarred instead. When I was a child, I figured that was how it worked because my father didn't heal the way I did, and he kept aging - I thought he did it for me. One day I had to burn one of his wounds out with fire - it would have poisoned his flesh otherwise - and that was just a week after my arm got broken when we were hunting, but my arm had been fine for days. His wound - on his left leg - didn't heal until we did the cutting it open and burn it, and even then it took ages. When I saw the scar I thought it was mine. No, not in a "I feel guilty" way; I thought it was proof his trust in me was validated, that I could deal when something like that happened to him, and that in return him saving me, I had saved him. So what I actually felt was pride.

My father never gave me all the details on how we came to be together, just that it had been God's will, and one of Angelus' allies had somehow been instrumental in it. I got bits and pieces of the story later, from Justine, from Fred and Gunn. By the time I met Wesley, I knew it had been him, and that he had thought he was saving me from a prophecy (that's what Fred had said; Gunn had said something else, but he was pissed off at me at the time). We didn't exactly talk much - actually, we never talked at all in those months in the Hyperion - but I remember that I saw the scar on his neck and thought that he had gotten it because of me. And again, I didn't feel guilty: I thought that what happened to Wesley would somehow had been the payment that allowed my father and me being together, which made sense, because you always have to pay somehow. My father used to talk a lot about Abraham when he taught me the bible, back in Quortoth; I thought of how God had tested Abraham, had told Abraham to kill his son Isaac, slit his throat, and at the last moment, he had exchanged Isaac for a ram.

I remember thinking that Isaac and the ram must have felt pretty much the same way about God and Abraham both after that, and that I was immediately ashamed of the thought. So I pushed it away and avoided Wesley when I could afterwards.

There were only two times when that didn't work. One was when everyone tried to turn me against Jasmine. Nobody told me - which was pretty much the rule that year - but what made other people not love Jasmine anymore was getting in contact with her blood, or Cordy's. Like I said, nobody told me; instead, Angel just held me and Wesley took a knife and cut my chest so they could smear Cordy's blood in it. I had no idea what was going on, and not just because loving Jasmine for me was about her being my daughter, not about some kind of spell; they didn't explain what they were trying. So what I thought, at that moment, was that I had gotten the whole Isaac and ram comparison all mixed up; or maybe I hadn't, but what nobody told me was that Isaac and the ram could exchange roles if God wanted them to.

The other time wasn't that much later, when everything was breaking down, I could feel it was, but I tried to stop it after Jasmine had healed me, I tried to capture everyone and bring them back. Except that "capture" wasn't all I tried. When I had caught up with them, everyone except Angel, I took the sword I had and looked at Wesley, who was kneeling. We were in the tunners, under ground, but I cold see the scar at his throat far better than at any point in the past.

I remember thinking that it was my scar, that he had gotten it because of me, but somehow God hadn't wanted either of us, so maybe I should just bring it to an end, and maybe then the story would finally work out. So I raised the sword. And the story did work out. Because in the story, the voice of God finally intervened.

Jasmine's voice stopped me.


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July 2010

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