Title: Stuffed Pig Fronts
Summary: Buffy's not who they think she is…
Archive: FF.net; Anyone who wants it can take it, keep my name on it.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Comments: Sort-of runs along with my other two, "Of Wishing Wells and Daydreams" and
"Memories and Alcohol", but they don't need to be read to understand this one. Is it just me, or
can you guys not wait for next week's (5/22) season finale? Yay! Angel is going to be back!
Feedback: kimmie@quincymail.com
Things about me, a lot of them would make the Gang disown me. It's not that I'm dirty,
really, in the sense of the word, I'm just wrong, and marred. The things they see about me can
be summed up in a toy. My pig represents a part of me, something whole and untainted. That
part is gone, fading and worn like the pig itself, but somehow, they don't see. They don't notice,
and I have to pretend. I cover the holes and patches, ripping seams and missing parts, but I
can't fake whole forever, and sooner or later, I'll just come unraveled, leaving the real Buffy, the
true me behind to fester under the sun, hated by everything.
It's not something I'm really ashamed of, this violent, dark inside of mine. It's the
consequences of being found out that alarm me. I can't imagine not being able to look at my
friends and see the love and respect, I suppose they have for me, the same way I feel about
them. It would hurt to see Xander turn away from me, feel the burn of Giles's hate. What would
Willow say? Would Dawn hate me even more? The thought of all that hate, the feelings and
bonds just crumble, it scares me more than dying, more than the fires of hell.
Some people know, I think. Angel. Angel's always known everything about me, even with
out me telling him. I'm sure it's partially from the way he's always looking at me, and his
tendency to stalk me, but it's just like him to pick up on things you'd never want anyone to know.
And then, still love you for it. Dracula also knew, but it was something he saw and used against
me, just for the fun of seeing me crack. For a moment, I did. I bent under that admission
because it seemed like he was the first to see it, and not be scared. Angel wasn't exactly scared,
but he did leave. Its still hurts me, as dark as I may be, to think about that. I loved him so much,
more than anything I can say, more than any words that exist can express. There isn't a way to
explain what I felt. After everything, all I'd given, after how strongly we felt, he still could bring
himself to walk away, even thinking it was wrong, I just didn't think it was possible. A good part
of me died then, taking more of my pig image away. I'm not trying to blame Angel, because he's
still so important to me, and I still love him, despite the past, because that part would've gone
with or without him, eventually. I wonder, though, will he still love me when I'm totally gone?
Who is me, and which part, if any, is more the real Buffy?
The scary thing is I'm losing sense, of which is which. I can't tell you which I have more
of, or which is more like the Buffy I used to be, because it all is so muddled, so blurred. I don't
think I'll ever know, but that isn't important anymore. What's important is hiding what's under
the pig, keeping it from my friends as long as possible. I don't know what I'll do when they see
me, and I don't want to think of it. Maybe if I ignore it, it will just go away.
Summary: Buffy's not who they think she is…
Archive: FF.net; Anyone who wants it can take it, keep my name on it.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Comments: Sort-of runs along with my other two, "Of Wishing Wells and Daydreams" and
"Memories and Alcohol", but they don't need to be read to understand this one. Is it just me, or
can you guys not wait for next week's (5/22) season finale? Yay! Angel is going to be back!
Feedback: kimmie@quincymail.com
Things about me, a lot of them would make the Gang disown me. It's not that I'm dirty,
really, in the sense of the word, I'm just wrong, and marred. The things they see about me can
be summed up in a toy. My pig represents a part of me, something whole and untainted. That
part is gone, fading and worn like the pig itself, but somehow, they don't see. They don't notice,
and I have to pretend. I cover the holes and patches, ripping seams and missing parts, but I
can't fake whole forever, and sooner or later, I'll just come unraveled, leaving the real Buffy, the
true me behind to fester under the sun, hated by everything.
It's not something I'm really ashamed of, this violent, dark inside of mine. It's the
consequences of being found out that alarm me. I can't imagine not being able to look at my
friends and see the love and respect, I suppose they have for me, the same way I feel about
them. It would hurt to see Xander turn away from me, feel the burn of Giles's hate. What would
Willow say? Would Dawn hate me even more? The thought of all that hate, the feelings and
bonds just crumble, it scares me more than dying, more than the fires of hell.
Some people know, I think. Angel. Angel's always known everything about me, even with
out me telling him. I'm sure it's partially from the way he's always looking at me, and his
tendency to stalk me, but it's just like him to pick up on things you'd never want anyone to know.
And then, still love you for it. Dracula also knew, but it was something he saw and used against
me, just for the fun of seeing me crack. For a moment, I did. I bent under that admission
because it seemed like he was the first to see it, and not be scared. Angel wasn't exactly scared,
but he did leave. Its still hurts me, as dark as I may be, to think about that. I loved him so much,
more than anything I can say, more than any words that exist can express. There isn't a way to
explain what I felt. After everything, all I'd given, after how strongly we felt, he still could bring
himself to walk away, even thinking it was wrong, I just didn't think it was possible. A good part
of me died then, taking more of my pig image away. I'm not trying to blame Angel, because he's
still so important to me, and I still love him, despite the past, because that part would've gone
with or without him, eventually. I wonder, though, will he still love me when I'm totally gone?
Who is me, and which part, if any, is more the real Buffy?
The scary thing is I'm losing sense, of which is which. I can't tell you which I have more
of, or which is more like the Buffy I used to be, because it all is so muddled, so blurred. I don't
think I'll ever know, but that isn't important anymore. What's important is hiding what's under
the pig, keeping it from my friends as long as possible. I don't know what I'll do when they see
me, and I don't want to think of it. Maybe if I ignore it, it will just go away.
