Author's note:
This one takes place right after Angel and Buffy's graveyard conversation in season two's Reptile Boy. All other occurances follow my storyline.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them.
Feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Questions or comments can be sent to sashab@ev1.net
Enjoy!
Of course it had to start raining. Always with the rain when I'm feeling the worst. Never rains when I need it to, like when there's a test or I'm already having a bad hair day. No, it has to rain, and I mean rain, like buckets, when I'm lost in my head like it's a giant labyrinth. And not the cool kind like in that movie with David Bowie.
No, no singing muppets for this girl.
This isn't some fairy tale. When I kiss you, you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after.
No. When you kiss me, I wanna die.
Damn him. All I wanted was the possibility of one date. Just a normal coffee, boy meets girl, sitting in the Espresso Pump kind of evening. No, maybe even just a walk through the park, as opposed to patrolling in the cemetary.
Well, maybe not just that. But it would work as a start.
And instead he had to try and talk some reality into me. Well, lemme break the news to you, Angel, reality has nothing to do with you and me. We're the stuff of legend, of shooting stars, of lovers dying together rather than living apart.
He doesn't get how much he means to me. I do want to die when he kisses me. It's like the world shrinks to a pinpoint of light, and then suddenly expands to include nothing but his warm brown eyes. For someone who says he's such a cold blooded killer, his eyes are almost more human than mine most times.
I can shut down too, Angel. I can be a killer. Hell, I'm a slayer. I'm a killer by definition. Believe me, I don't live in any kind of fairy tale.
I limp home, through the damn graveyard, mud and wet leaves sucking at my feet. I stomp angrily down the sidewalk, ready to pouce on anything should it dare approach me. I should wear a sign on my forehead, 'danger, pissed off slayer'.
Although with my attitude present, I don't think I need one.
I feel something…no, someone following me, and I am not amused.
I turn around and face the way I had come.
"Look, I'm cold, I'm wet, but I'm definitely not scared. Show yourself."
"I'm glad, because I know from experience you could kick my butt to the ground."
I sigh, not ready to face him again yet.
"Look, I need a break from you, okay? It's a little too…intense right now, you know?" I whirl on my stylish, but muddy boots and continue toward home. He catches up to me easily, his feet not making a sound on the concrete. My feet sound like cannons compared to his.
"Buffy, look. I…I have to apologize. I didn't mean to chase you away. I just…this can't really go anywhere. You know that. I know that. But for some reason we seem to forget that when we're around each other…" His voice breaks, and I stop, and face him. His eyes are like chips of amber in the streetlight. I suck in a breath, prepared to rail against him, and against a fate that shoved us together, made me feel for him, and then made him my natural enemy. A vampire.
His hands grip my upper arms, and jerk me to him, crushing me against his chest. His lips descend onto mine before I can say a word, and again I am struck by the realization that I don't care if my body and my slayer instincts are screaming at me to run! kill! vampire! I couldn't stop touching him if it was life or death.
He kisses me like he's a drowning man, and I'm his savior. That thing happens again where it seems there's nothing in the world left but him and me, and the tiny space of our bodies meeting, melting together like we were never apart, ever. He kisses me like he's angry at me, at himself, and like I did him a disservice somehow.
His hands move to my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing my chest into his, my nipples hardening immediately from his proximity and the touch of his cool skin through his shirt.
My pulse is pounding, my body on fire.
I drag my hands through his hair, pulling his face closer to mine, making some kind of desperate keening sound, as if I can't get close enough to him.
His hand cups my left breast, and suddenly my mind is in the present again.
I push away from him finally, panting and sweating, and touch one trembling fingertip to my wet and swollen lips.
"Wha…" is about all I can get out. His chest is heaving as well, gulping in unneeded breaths.
We stand staring at each other in the now almost pulsing rain, and I finally break his gaze and run, knowing if I didn't I'd be all over him in a second, and God help me, I don't know if that is the thing I should do right now.
He calls after me, but I keep going, boots slapping the road, and finally my house comes into view. I practically crawl up the tree like Spiderman, and heave myself into my room, dripping onto the carpet and trying to be as quiet as possible. It would be the oh so perfect ending to my day if I woke up mom and she came in here and found me sneaking in.
I shed my shoes and jeans at the window seat, not wanting to get the carpet any wetter than it is.
I pad silently in my panties and blouse to my dresser, and stare at the wild girl in the mirror there.
Her eyes are bright and wide, but hover over smudges of black; her hair a wet dirty blonde tangle; her face taut over her bones.
And her lips…
They tremble uncontrollably, and I touch them with my hand again, feeling his mouth still pressing there, and I shut my eyes against the desire that wells up in me. Does he love me? Does he want me? Or does he just want to play with me, claiming the slayer as his trophy?
He professes to have the same feelings as I do, but how twisted is our relationship? A vampire slayer in love with a vampire? How bizarre. And how totally righteous, as my friend Chris back at Hemery would have said.
I've never been in love. I don't know what it feels like. But since meeting Angel, I can say I have an inkling.
I can literally almost feel when he's near. I feel like I can't breathe if I'm not touching him. And maybe, the next time he kisses me, I will die. I'll die anyway if he's jerking me around. Just to look noble, get in close to the slayer, help her out, do some good, make yourself atone. That's not it, is it? Oh, my God, what if that's the reason he's been around?
What if that's the reason he sought me out in the first place?
I sink to the floor in front of my dresser, my head lowered, my hair hanging in sodden strings around me like a curtain.
Hot tears form in my eyes, hurt descending like a wave, followed quickly by anger and resentment.
I ram my fist into the wooden drawer in front of me, and it crunches with a meaty snap.
I snap out of my reverie, immediately alert to any sounds coming from my mom's room.
Nada. Good.
I stand listlessly, and strip off the rest of my rain soaked clothes. Pulling open the drawer I had just broken, I retrieve my pj bottoms and tank and shrug them on, all anger and restlessness drained out of me suddenly like it had never been there.
I slip under the covers, and grab a tight hold of Mr.Gordo, my stuffed pig.
"You understand me, don't you, Mr. Gordo?" I whisper to him, sniffling miserably and clutching him tightly to my chest.
If Angel doesn't love me, I don't know what I'll do.
But I do know it will make me into somebody I won't like.
I decide that I have to take matters into my own hands.
This isn't a fairy tale. He's damn right. And I'm gonna show him just how much it's not.
But not now. Not while the rain is still pounding down, and not while my brain is again feeling like that maze or puzzle box that you just can't figure out.
I drift to sleep, thoughts of him swirling in my head, and images of him filling my dreams.
Am I in love? Am I in denial? All I know is what I feel when he's near. And what I feel when he's not.
As much as I know it's a pipe dream, I do want the fairy tale, no matter what he says, and no matter what my logic center tells me. But if it ends up being the monster story instead, I'll take it too, if it means I can have him.
Mr. Gordo watches over me in silence as I slumber, dreaming of castles and dragons, and ultra strong princesses and pale, beautiful knights.
The rain continues to fall outside, a mute witness to my agitated sleep, it's gentle patter no balm to my burn.
Maybe tomorrow it'll be sunny.
TBC.