Don't Lie
Author: Karen/blackbeltchic
Disclaimer: I do not own the character, she belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Author's Notes: This was originally going to be a songfic, the song is "Don't Lie" by Trace Adkins.
Summary: Future Fic- Buffy's been trying to hard to move on, but she keps lying to herself.
Feedback: Please and thank you.
Distribution: If you want it, just ask.
"Don't lie...don't try to fool me...
'Cause girl I know what's goin' on.
Don't lie...you owe it to me...
Believe me, leave well enough alone.
So just go ahead and say goodbye...
But don't lie."
-Trace Adkins, "Don't Lie"
He came home to find a suitcase in the hall with a photo of the two of them on top. Perplexed, and a bit afraid, he followed the noises of slamming drawers to the bedroom they shared, to find her stuffing things into bags.
"What's going on?" he asked her, watching her go back and forth.
"I can't do this to you, I can't keep pretending anymore!" she said, then she turned to him, approached him, put a hand on his cheek, "Someone once did this for me, and now I'm passing on the favor. You deserve so much more, marriage, children, a woman who loves you. And…And I can't be that woman. I'm sorry. I tried, I really did."
"What are you talking about? You said…" he knew he was grasping at straws, knew people said things they didn't mean in the heat of the moment.
"I was lying to myself, and you. You deserve so much more than I can give you…a woman who can make love to you…" she looked into his eyes, "You don't know what that's like…"
"Buffy, we made love last-"
"No…" her voice was soft, "No, we didn't. I've only ever made love once, and it's something you never forget. You can never go back to sex, it just doesn't compare. You need a woman, that when she kisses you, when she makes love to you, you want to die, because you know there's nothing left for you to do in your life, you'd die happy, you'd die complete.
"It's been awesome, the sex, but it's just not the same…" she turned from him, heading towards the closet to pull some things out to put in a bag.
"There's someone else," he said, knowing what her answer would be.
She turned to him, shocked, "No. I wouldn't do that to you. I care about you; I would never do anything like that. There isn't anyone else, never was anyone else."
"Don't lie, I saw the drawings and letters in the closet. I didn't read the letters, but I saw the drawings. And I can smell him on you, Buffy. If you care about me as much as you say you do, don't lie to me."
"But there isn't anyone else!" she cried, then she took a deep breath, calming herself, "Let me tell you a story. A story about a girl who, at fifteen, was told she'd never live to see her twentieth birthday. A story about a girl who, at sixteen, died, and if it weren't for her best friend giving her CPR, she wouldn't be here today. Let me tell you a story about a girl who lost her heart at sixteen to an older man. Let me tell you a story about a girl who was married at the age of 17, when her boyfriend gave her an ancient wedding ring, and then they consummated their love. A ring she still wears to this day. Let me tell you a story about a girl who had her heart ripped out because though her older boyfriend had never loved anyone else in his life, he couldn't give her what he thought she deserved, so he left. Let me tell you a story about a girl who went through the rest of her days trying to give someone else the love she so desperately needed, only to find every time that she had none to give, because he hadn't given her heart back. Let me tell you a story about a woman who's trying to do the right thing, because she knows she'll never find love again.
"Let me tell you a story about a lover, who got a call from her ex-boyfriend, and though she was with another, rushed to his aid. Let me tell you a story about a lover, who didn't reach her soul mate in time.
"Those drawings, those letters, he wrote me years ago and never sent. When I went to LA, it was because he said he was in trouble, he needed my help. So I went. And I couldn't find him. I don't know if he died, or vanished, or ran, he just disappeared. I found the letters and drawings in his apartment. The cologne, I found that as well, and the shirts I use as pajamas.
"Do you see why I'm leaving? I've been fooling myself and fooling you that I could ever love you the way you deserve. You have a chance of a normal life, and you need to take that chance.
"I'm sorry," she took hold of the straps of her bag, and slowly walked past him, out of the room. He heard her pick up the suitcase, and then open and close the front door. After a few minutes, he heard a car trunk slam, and then a car door. He heard the engine catch, and he heard her leaving.
He sat on their bed and put his head in his hands. A tear ran down his cheek, a tear for a woman who could not love, and a man who loved her.
END