Head over Heels. A BtVS Songfic. Standard Disclaimers Apply.
While the song itself is originally by this awesome band, Tears for Fears...the remake by Digital Daggers gives off a better feel for this particular story.
I heard it while watching Vampire Diaries. :P
Spike and Buffy. through seasons 5 to 7.
...
I wanted to be with you alone
And talk about the weather
You understand that she speaks to you and tells you things she doesn't tell anyone else, not because you are close but because, honestly, she doesn't care how you think of her.
You are a non-entity. A stranger.
And really? She's already beyond the point of caring, it just hurt too much.
But traditions I can trace against the child in your face
Won't escape my attention
Maybe it was because you live outside her inner circle that it allows you to see her more clearly than the others. Understand her better, even. They've all been together so long, they have set expectations, and they already have 'selves' built to answer to them. The best foot they put forward for the people who matter to them to see.
And while it was the best of what each of them had to offer, they refused to show their skeletons. their weaknesses. their hurts.
She wasn't any different. And so, as expected, no one notices.
No one, except for you.
You keep your distance fear the system of touch
And gentle persuasion
So now, upon realizing how you feel about her, she is panicked (and probably a little bit repulsed and disgusted).
You are everything she fights against. Evil, manipulative, without a soul. a jackass.
She isn't wrong.
I'm lost in admiration that I need you this much
But it's real. And these feelings, like a curse, is what makes you act against this base nature that she knows you have. It makes you swallow your pride, and makes you try to comfort her, when your original intention was to shoot her dead.
Oh, you're wasting my time
it is what makes you promise to protect her sister...and keep it, even after she is dead.
You're just...
it is what exists inside you so vividly, no matter how you might try to ignore/ reject/deny it.
...just...
it is the goad that pushes you, punishing you, unable to do anything but bow to its will that insists you BE THERE for her.
...just wasting time.
no matter how much she continuously punishes/despises you for it. Or (hell), for simply existing.
Something happens and I'm head over heels
You see her alive that night she returns, and while your heart screams in anger and hurt at how ragged her nails, her knuckles are, joy explodes in your heart, knowing she's alive.
I never find out till I'm head over heels
you are hurt that they didn't trust you enough to tell you what they were about, wroth at the thought that they might have damaged her in the process, but at the moment, all that mattered was that she looked broken and lost, and all you wanted to do was gather her up in your arms and just...breathe.
it makes you realize the truth of your feelings all over again.
Something happens and I'm head over heels
In a gentle voice you tell her. You tell her the foremost thing that stayed with you, when she died. The many times you saved her, in the countless ways you would have done so, hoping she would understand. How you feel.
How you hurt.
How you would do anything in the world, just to erase that haunted, broken look on your face, this mask that looked about ready to fall apart at any given moment.
Ah, don't take my heart
You remember the kiss she willingly gave you, when she knew for certain that even in the face of unspeakable torture and certain death, you would spit at it in the face and never sell her out.
Don't break my heart
You remember her crying in front of you, outside her porch, your anger at your pride being crushed vanishing into nothing, as you put the gun aside and sit beside her to ask her what was wrong
Don't throw it away
You remember the unmoving, lifeless body at the bottom of the shoddily-made steel tower, and felt your dead heart lurch and squeeze, the pain magnified with such clarity that you could no longer stand and bear it.
(Throw it away)
You broke down. Unable and unwilling to keep the pain at bay, any longer.
It was dying, all over again. Only without the salvation of something better, waiting.
(Throw it away)
Just the living hell of an absence you didn't know how long you could endure without.
I made a fire and i'm watching it burn (yeah)
Thought of your future
You try to make sense of the near-incomprehensible signals she sends you.
On the one hand, she opens up to you. She looks at you a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
On the other hand, She kisses you, you confront her and she rejects you, then in the end kisses you again.
Her words deny it and spouts damaging acid, even as her eyes confirm it, that you get sick of it, and start to push for acknowledgment.
You literally have her against a pillar, her mind finally succumbing to her body's non-stop clamoring for conclusion...as the ceiling comes down and the walls crumble, and at the back of your mind, you know tomorrow will be a different story.
Tomorrow, the real world will filter in, and things will go better in some ways, worse for others, but for the moment, the rest of you is just greedy, famished and just feasting on what you never in your wildest imaginings believed you'd get.
With one foot in the past now just how long will it last
No no no have you no ambition
And while your most basic need for her has been answered, she still denies you what you really want, though to a certain degree, you realize that it's there. And you realize her reasons for rejecting the thought. It all goes back to the others, and what they think of her. And the lack of a soul that equals to inability to feel real love (and this was really Angel's fault, turning to a raving madman, everytime he lost his bloody soul).
All of these things that shouldn't apply to you, yet do, because of this faulty teacher called fear and experience.
That you are both left with just this. That she cannot look past this unfair judgment of you, when a lot of your previous, more recent actions, even with her gone, should have told her the truth. That this was real. That your heart was hers. That you was deserving.
Instead she settles for having you answer her needs, knowing that even as she used you, no matter how willing you were, she would hurt herself, too.
My mother and my brothers used to breathe in clean in air
And dreaming I'm a doctor
But you accept it. You understand her position better than anybody, so you'll take what you can get, even play dirty, if it means driving a wedge between her and her friends, and getting what you want.
Because better than anyone, you understand how painful it is, living with how other people's perception affects you and the people around you.
It was enough for a good man to be scorned by the woman he loved, for the silliest things such as writing bad poetry...to more reasonable ones such as, well...being so selfish as to fracture her relationship with others.
It's hard to be a man when there's a gun in your hand
And as much as you might want to play fair, it is not as if she gives you much leeway or opportunity to do so. She refuses to give you even the smallest chance, the only weak link in her armor, being her emotional imbalance.
You imagine it is the lack of soul that makes you remorseless at the lengths you will go through, to twist her, if necessary, just to make her love you, but you are manipulative, and you have never claimed to be anything but bad. And while it is your love for her that has made you giving and kind in the past, it is also the same thing that drives you into selfish desperation.
Oh I feel so...
It was enough to drive you over the edge, and do something that, despite being soulless, you understand is something unforgivable.
And what makes it worse is...there are new memories to make this failure, even more bitter.
Something happens and I'm head over heels
You come to her birthday, and meet her vulnerable gaze, with a casual one, and you know you're covering for the wonder you feel each time your eyes meet.
I never find out till I'm head over heels
the sweetness, that heady feeling you get when you're drunk on her kisses, your skin burning from her touch, and she says your name over and over, like precious jewels falling from her lips, easing and healing each toxic wound and scar her words she might have caused, before.
Something happens and I'm head over heels
Long, golden tresses that looked like spun gold against the morning sun...that you are unable to keep from twining your fingers around, marvelling at its softness, as you affectionately call her "My Goldilocks," never mind how ridiculously silly it sounds, because now, the memory of it exists in your mind and you can still feel and revel in the phantom strands of it in your hand.
Oh, don't take my heart
Her, attempting conversation, even though you had expected her to (in your own words) "kick you in the head, virtue fluttering."
And that shy smile she answered you with, as she said "yes."
don't break my heart
You and her, trading insults and/or blows that end in kisses, and much, much more.
Oh, don't
You on top of her, her protesting...until finally, she kicks and pushes you off, and you see the hurt and the fear, and the disappointment in her eyes, realizing she was protesting for real. That it wasn't the usual game.
don't throw it away.
You feel sick and disgusted, angry and frustrated, hurt and so many other emotions that all go back to you truly hating yourself, maybe for the first time, in a long, long time...that you know you can't go on this way.
So you decide. Even though she never looks at you, ever again.
On the off-chance that somehow, some way, you are able to make up to her for it...if she ever forgives you, though she might never take you back.
And this my four leaf clover
And so you try. And you almost die. And you get your soul back...and the significance of your actions without one, almost crushes you with its weight. Struggling, you return, only to break, unable to hold off the tide, what with your ill-used conscience, and now the First, making it unbearably worse...and you are worse than dead.
She sees you in this state, and has the gall to ask why, so you tell her. In broken fragments, your mind trying to hold on to some semblance of clarity, if only to explain, no matter how clumsily, your remorse at your actions, and this hopeless, helpless, poignant love, that had somehow begun in an undead heart that shouldn't have felt it, amplified by this soul you were now inflicted with.
I'm on the line, one open mind
She surprises you, by finally accepting it.
Taking you from that prison of a basement.
Saving you from the First's mental and physical torture.
Telling you she sees the change in you (finally) and believing in the good in it. This, more than anything, making it all worth it.
This is my four leaf clover
And so you answer her expectations. You don't push for more than she is willing to give. You treat her with respect, when she fusses over each hurt you feel, knowing how easy it would be to just pull her to you and kiss her. Knowing she would probably let you, before her mind finally pushes to the fore and reminds her of the onlookers present.
You accept her vague answer when she tells you she isn't ready for you to not be there.
She asks for her ruthless killer, and you wear that nostalgic leather jacket, and play the role that comes most naturally to you.
In my minds eye
You see her more clearly now, than ever before, and realize EXACTLY why and what had drawn you to her in the first place.
You realize that from the beginning...it had always been inevitable.
One little boy
You realize how selfish, grasping and immature you both were, just falling into bed for the wrong reasons. And just how wrong it was for you to try to manipulate her like you did...just to have her.
one little man
And though you know that even then, your love has always been real...you see the difference a soul makes.
How you, yourself, place boundaries to your actions and learn to consider her first, and how your actions affect her and how others see her, as well as why it matters.
You are able to put her first for the right reasons, instead of achieving your own selfish ends. And in a way, it gives you a sense of peace...contentment, even if it is just like this.
Funny how...
It is a reward of its own, when she finally lowers her defenses...and asks you to hold her. Of her own volition. Without you playing games.
And as you both lie on the bed, holding each other...as you feel her slowly relax and sleep, your nostrils filled with her scent, your lips against her hair, her arms around your body...in the same way yours envelops hers...
You begin to understand just how much it took for her to do so. Just how much trust she must have in you.
You lie in bed, terrified, because just holding her innocently like this makes you feel...
...makes you feel...
...as if in this one moment, she had put the fate of the world aside, just to have this time of contentment and peace...and bliss...and belonging.
That, at this moment, the world could wait. She wasn't Buffy. She wasn't The Slayer.
She is yours. You are hers. In a way, more real, tangible and meaningful than any intimate touch or kiss you might have previously shared.
An embrace that exists and encompasses the world of two people.
...time...
You wake up and find her gone, and all your insecurities return, but this time, instead of cementing them, she tries in her awkward, though less vague yet still indirect way, to tell you it was real.
This, finally...was real.
Your insecurity wins out, especially after you see her kiss Tall, Dark and Forehead, but for a change, you don't let it get the better of you. You don't even give her insecurity a chance, and you let her stay with you.
This last night.
She chose to see the end of the world with you.
...flies.
It is the last thought in your mind, as you slowly fade into burning ash.
Because whether that awkward "i love you" was true or not...she believed in you. She chose you.
After everything you've done.
And this, more than anything else...was something worth ending for.