by She's a Star
Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. Whom I am not.
Author's Note: I've been wanting to do a B/A fic for quite some time, but none of my attempts have turned out very well. I like this one, however, so . . . yes. That's why I'm posting it. Ingenious, is my reasoning.
It had been so easy in the beginning--
All bickering, and cryptic messages; a loaned jacket, a silver cross. He was gorgeous in an annoying sort of way, and the first time she'd kissed him, she'd known that this was something different. Extraordinary.
And then things had started to get a little more complicated.
A vampire with a soul. It was clichéd. Ridiculous. Completely ironic. She knew, then, that she had to let go of him.
But she didn't.
Instead, she got to know him just a little bit better. He was always a mystery to her, and one she knew she shouldn't solve.
He took her hand in graveyards, and kissed her 'til the world disappeared. This isn't some fairytale, he had told her, and she'd thought she had believed him.
Really, she hadn't even begun to understand.
I love you, she'd said. I don't know if I trust you.
Maybe you shouldn't do either. His eyes were so dark sometimes that it seemed like midnight, drowned.
She'd never listened to him when she should have.
Maybe we shouldn't--
Don't. Just kiss me.
And everything had fallen.
She hadn't been ready to put a stake through his heart; a silly little girl in love with the familiar face of a stranger, and so he'd struck. Broken champagne glasses. Dead rose petals. Everything changed, and ultimately it was because of her. Because once she'd been in love.
And finally, she'd known. She had to kill him, and it was sharp, and strange, and she felt detached and tried very, very hard not to remember kissing him. Sometimes she had tortured him, in her mind, after hearts had broken and lives had shattered and she'd wanted nothing more than revenge. She would take the cross he'd given her, and run it over his skin - watch it blister, watch the smoke rise.
Maybe she'd smile. Maybe she'd laugh. Maybe she'd make some perfectly phrased comment, sparkling with malice and wit.
Or maybe she'd just watch.
And now, even those cold, twisted fantasies had fallen to pieces, and the demon that looked back at her disappeared. She wondered if she was dreaming, and remembered a million things all at once, and hell crept forward, swiftly, beyond nightmares and shadows, ready to consume reality.
She knew.
I love you.
And she wished, wished so desperately that she'd killed him before; before, the first time she'd had the chance, before everything swirled with nothing and the blacks and whites blended in grey, and it wasn't a choice.
It was fate.
I love you, and she savoured his words.
It had never been easy. Not even in the beginning. Not ever. It had been a rush of tears and smiles and death, something that had consumed her so wholly, made her feel so much that suddenly she was almost numb.
Almost.
"Close your eyes."
A quiet sigh, a kiss, and hell.