TITLE: Because It Hurts So Much
AUTHOR: Pilla Jeffrey
EMAIL: mah219@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama
PAIRING: any
SPOILERS: none
SEASON / SEQUEL: any
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: implied sex
SUMMARY: Sometimes the only way to wash away the pain is to take the most desperate measures.
STATUS: Completed
ARCHIVE: Fanfiction.net, anywhere else, ask.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon and all those lucky folks do. All original characters and ideas are mine, though, so don't archive without my permission!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: There is so much angst in Buffy that this story almost begged to come out. I've left it nameless so you can fill in your own characters. Honestly, it can be any two characters, mainly after season six with all that drama (Xander/Willow, Anya/Spike, Buffy/Spike, etc.) but could be from an earlier season to better fit some pairings (i.e., Buffy/Giles, season two with Jenny and Angelus). I hope you enjoy it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Empty passion. That's all she offered, all she gave. She had no right to do this to him when he was in so much pain. But so was she. She wanted the pain to wash away, for it to never come back to her. So she kissed him. He'd acted shocked for a moment, but then responded, with a kiss as deep and desperate as hers was.
The steps toward this were hardly gradual. It was almost forced, that there needed to be something to help, and this was the only way that they could help each other, by giving themselves. It was silly and foolish, but when everything is that dead inside, sometimes it was the only thing to do to feel alive.
His hands searched her body, but she felt nothing. He kissed her neck, and she responded only in lust. There was no emotion in what they were doing, just pain. Pain and suffering.
It'd lasted through the night, and after he'd gone to sleep, she'd cried. How had this happened? Using him in this way, it wasn't like her. She was supposed to be the good girl. As positive as she was that she wasn't that, she definitely wasn't some sort of sex-driven slut. But isn't that how it turned out? This was her, doing this, encouraging this, doing nothing to stop it. And there was this dirty feeling inside her.
She got out of the bed, sighing guiltily as she looked onto his satisfied sleep. He deserved better. She reached for her clothes, dressing quickly so she wouldn't change her mind. With one last look at him, she left. If she was lucky, he'd forgive her and forget. But he wasn't the type to let this go lightly.
She walked silently around, finally stopping at Kingman Park next to Sunnydale Elementary. The swing was lonely and calling her; she sat down. How had her life spun so out of control? She remembered how it used to be, how happy she used to be, without screwing anyone just because she felt like it.
What were her friends going to think? What was he going to think? She had lost all sight of what she used to be and was stuck being this person she never wanted to see in the mirror. And now she was stuck with this for the rest of her life.
She openly cried, glad no one could see her. Maybe the best thing would be to leave. She'd considered it before, and what was really stopping her, other than responsibilities she was sick and tired of?
But she would stay. She didn't have the courage to leave. Then again, she didn't have the courage to stay. She was stuck in the limbo, not here in spirit, but far away in her wished perfect life which would never exist. And she would never get out of it.
She heard the crack of twigs behind her. She turned, seeing the last person she wanted to see. He stood there, half hidden in the shadows, his stance asking the question before he did. "Why did you leave?"
She didn't want to answer him, but he deserved to hear this, to know that it meant nothing and that if he'd just shut up and never mention it again, she'd be grateful for life. Then again, living on the Hellmouth seriously limited that predicted life span.
In the end, she couldn't tell him the truth. "I just needed some air."
He looked at her quizzically. "Four blocks away?" He sat in the swing next to her, his face masked in concern. He reached out and touched her hand. "What's wrong?"
Why did he have to care? She'd used him and he still cared about her. "Please don't make this harder than this is," she begged him.
"Make what harder?" He blinked, the compassion replaced by anger. "Do you know what we just did? I can't just let this go."
"Maybe you can't, but we have to." She got up from the swing, holding his hand and looking forlornly into his eyes. "I don't love you. I was using you. And because of that, I want you to forget it happened."
"But it did happen," he insisted furiously. "You can't just pretend it didn't."
This wasn't going anywhere. He'd never accept that this was just a game to her, just a way to wash away the pain. She looked away from him, wishing there was a better way out of this. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" She quickly squeezed his hand and then turned, walking as fast as she could away. She ignored him as he called her name and followed the newly rising sun.
The light was blinding. Rising suns tended to mean new beginnings. They'd really gone into depth of that kind of archetype in English for some reason. She remembered the discussion with a renewed clarity. Mr. Wheaten had told the class about how the sun, in its rising, gave sort of a hope for a new tomorrow. As the memory faded, she hugged the bundle of clothes closer to her. A new beginning with new people in a different place. She'd made up her mind and was not looking back.
~Finis~
AUTHOR: Pilla Jeffrey
EMAIL: mah219@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: Angst, Drama
PAIRING: any
SPOILERS: none
SEASON / SEQUEL: any
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: implied sex
SUMMARY: Sometimes the only way to wash away the pain is to take the most desperate measures.
STATUS: Completed
ARCHIVE: Fanfiction.net, anywhere else, ask.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon and all those lucky folks do. All original characters and ideas are mine, though, so don't archive without my permission!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: There is so much angst in Buffy that this story almost begged to come out. I've left it nameless so you can fill in your own characters. Honestly, it can be any two characters, mainly after season six with all that drama (Xander/Willow, Anya/Spike, Buffy/Spike, etc.) but could be from an earlier season to better fit some pairings (i.e., Buffy/Giles, season two with Jenny and Angelus). I hope you enjoy it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Empty passion. That's all she offered, all she gave. She had no right to do this to him when he was in so much pain. But so was she. She wanted the pain to wash away, for it to never come back to her. So she kissed him. He'd acted shocked for a moment, but then responded, with a kiss as deep and desperate as hers was.
The steps toward this were hardly gradual. It was almost forced, that there needed to be something to help, and this was the only way that they could help each other, by giving themselves. It was silly and foolish, but when everything is that dead inside, sometimes it was the only thing to do to feel alive.
His hands searched her body, but she felt nothing. He kissed her neck, and she responded only in lust. There was no emotion in what they were doing, just pain. Pain and suffering.
It'd lasted through the night, and after he'd gone to sleep, she'd cried. How had this happened? Using him in this way, it wasn't like her. She was supposed to be the good girl. As positive as she was that she wasn't that, she definitely wasn't some sort of sex-driven slut. But isn't that how it turned out? This was her, doing this, encouraging this, doing nothing to stop it. And there was this dirty feeling inside her.
She got out of the bed, sighing guiltily as she looked onto his satisfied sleep. He deserved better. She reached for her clothes, dressing quickly so she wouldn't change her mind. With one last look at him, she left. If she was lucky, he'd forgive her and forget. But he wasn't the type to let this go lightly.
She walked silently around, finally stopping at Kingman Park next to Sunnydale Elementary. The swing was lonely and calling her; she sat down. How had her life spun so out of control? She remembered how it used to be, how happy she used to be, without screwing anyone just because she felt like it.
What were her friends going to think? What was he going to think? She had lost all sight of what she used to be and was stuck being this person she never wanted to see in the mirror. And now she was stuck with this for the rest of her life.
She openly cried, glad no one could see her. Maybe the best thing would be to leave. She'd considered it before, and what was really stopping her, other than responsibilities she was sick and tired of?
But she would stay. She didn't have the courage to leave. Then again, she didn't have the courage to stay. She was stuck in the limbo, not here in spirit, but far away in her wished perfect life which would never exist. And she would never get out of it.
She heard the crack of twigs behind her. She turned, seeing the last person she wanted to see. He stood there, half hidden in the shadows, his stance asking the question before he did. "Why did you leave?"
She didn't want to answer him, but he deserved to hear this, to know that it meant nothing and that if he'd just shut up and never mention it again, she'd be grateful for life. Then again, living on the Hellmouth seriously limited that predicted life span.
In the end, she couldn't tell him the truth. "I just needed some air."
He looked at her quizzically. "Four blocks away?" He sat in the swing next to her, his face masked in concern. He reached out and touched her hand. "What's wrong?"
Why did he have to care? She'd used him and he still cared about her. "Please don't make this harder than this is," she begged him.
"Make what harder?" He blinked, the compassion replaced by anger. "Do you know what we just did? I can't just let this go."
"Maybe you can't, but we have to." She got up from the swing, holding his hand and looking forlornly into his eyes. "I don't love you. I was using you. And because of that, I want you to forget it happened."
"But it did happen," he insisted furiously. "You can't just pretend it didn't."
This wasn't going anywhere. He'd never accept that this was just a game to her, just a way to wash away the pain. She looked away from him, wishing there was a better way out of this. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" She quickly squeezed his hand and then turned, walking as fast as she could away. She ignored him as he called her name and followed the newly rising sun.
The light was blinding. Rising suns tended to mean new beginnings. They'd really gone into depth of that kind of archetype in English for some reason. She remembered the discussion with a renewed clarity. Mr. Wheaten had told the class about how the sun, in its rising, gave sort of a hope for a new tomorrow. As the memory faded, she hugged the bundle of clothes closer to her. A new beginning with new people in a different place. She'd made up her mind and was not looking back.
~Finis~