This is an edited, shorter, chapter. Edited from NC-17 to R. For the full chapter go to http://www.geocities.com/summersomnambulist/fiction/pt2.html. Please come back to review if you feel so inclined.
Enough
Am I not
pretty enough? Is my heart too broken?
Do I cry too hard? Am I too outspoken?
Don't I make you laugh? Should I try it harder
Why do you see right through me?
Not Pretty Enough' by Kasey Chambers
His lips descended on hers and she pressed back against them. This moment was perfect. It was as if all time had stopped for just them. Trapped inside this bedroom. No, not trapped... safe. They were safe here. She was safe here.
His lips lingered on hers for a long moment before kissing their way across her cheek and then down her neck. Each kiss he placed was warm, soft, loving, and she felt the last traces of fear being swept away by that mouth. He began dancing his tongue along the side of her neck, and the energy in the room changed from comfortable to hot. Heated. She shifted beneath him, wondering if she should move or just stay still. She was very inexperienced, could he tell that?
As if he sensed that the fear was coming back his hand played along her thigh as a surprising distraction. His fingers dragged against her skin, leaving her gasping for something she wasn't even sure existed. She bent her knees cautiously and was rewarded by a groan from him. He stopped his ministrations and looked up at her, eyes clouded with lust. Not love, lust.
Are you sure? he asked. And in one silent moment she entertained the possibility of telling him that no' she wasn't sure. Not sure, not certain. Or anything else they said in those millions of chick-flicks that she must have dragged him to. But he was being romantic. Not calculating date-rapist. He just wanted to make... sure. Wanted her to be safe.
she gasped, her voice so breathy she even surprised herself. Was this what sex did to you? Made you into a monosyllabic, clichéd idiot?
***
I'll just... use the shower... she said, rising from the bed. He smiled and nodded, the last image she saw of him before she exited the room being him crawling up to rest his head upon her pillows, a satisfied look upon his face.
She padded across the landing to the bathroom and shut the door definitely behind her. Only when the light was on did she drop the sheet from her body and walk towards the shower. It was as if she was on auto-pilot as she turned the water on and placed a hand under it til cold turned to hot. She was still cruising as she stepped into the shower and let the water run over her body.
Numbness was slowly spreading over her limbs, her mind. She wasn't sure if she should cry. Would that be bad? He loved her. She shouldn't cry. So it had hurt, she was the Slayer. She didn't cry when things hurt. But then when things hurt her she killed them. She couldn't kill him. She loved him.
Tentatively she brushed one hand down amongst the thatch of curls. It didn't hurt anymore. Not much. It was probably just because it was her first time. Every night was her first time. In a sudden flurry of movement she picked up a brush. One usually used on the hard skin of her feet, and began scrubbing at her body. At first it was just random strokes, then she began to work from the top, down. Her neck felt raw by the time she'd finished with it, but she didn't pause to think as she continued down one arm. The pain, this pain, was an easy distraction from thought. Thought and tears. She wasn't weak, she didn't need to cry over this. It was disgusting, she was disgusting, working herself up over such a small thing... Such a trifle.
Slowly Buffy put down the brush and stared at her one reddened arm that now felt like it was burning. She washed it carefully under the constant spray of water, before turning off the shower and stepping out into the bathroom.
Picking up a towel she dabbed at her body, then wrung her hair through. She'd have liked to have spent a few more moments cleaning up, but... He was waiting for her to come back. She loved him. And if she just kept repeating that, everything would be okay.
Before she knew it Buffy was walking back into her room again, sheet held around her with less protectiveness than before. At first she thought he was asleep, but when she closed the door and turned back around his eyes were open.
You're beautiful.
Thank you. she breathed, climbing into bed beside him. One of his arms encircled her waist and he pulled her closer to him.
Your neck's red.. he said absently, placing a kiss upon the affected area.
Oh. Is it? The water was a little too hot. she lied easily. He accepted her explanation. She thought he was going to go to sleep then, and she let out a relieved sigh. But instead he asked another question.
Do you love me, Buffy?
Of course I love you. she answered automatically.
Of course you do.. he smiled, reassured, And even if I... change... you'll still love me, right?
The question seemed to make her sad, but she couldn't quite remember why.
Yes. Of course. I'll love you forever, Angel.
Even if I do something wrong...?
Even if I hurt you?
Even if I... die?
Her throat tightened, Of course.
Of course. he echoed, his voice intoxicated by sleep moments before his body was.
Buffy stared at the smile on his face, innocent and loved, as he slept. She had to remind herself a few times that Vampires didn't breath as she looked at his static chest. Consciously she turned around so that she wasn't looking at him and stared at the clock beside her bed. Just past two, like every night. She laid her head down on her pillow slowly and closed her eyes. Begging for sleep.
***
The woman paced through the streets of the town, her white dress spilling out on the tarmac of the pavement, yet never dragging as she moved. Every now and again she would skip a few steps,
Step on a crack: break your mothers back. she said, loudly, in a singsong voice.
A man huddled in a shop doorway slowly pulled his blanket up over his head. Perhaps he had spotted that she seemed to be purposefully stepping on each crack. The woman noticed his chagrin and snapped,
Oh, like you've never heard that one before!
But she wasn't angry. She might have been sent on a fool's errand. But she wasn't angry. She settled a happy smile on her face to prove it. She felt that the Warrior was close. The Saviour. The person she was searching for. And it wasn't so much that she was scared for her people -- let them all burn, they usually liked that -- it was really just something to do. Something she'd been ordered to do, true, but still something to do.
The woman hopped from the pavement to the road, and winced as gravel stuck into her bare feet. Pain. Great. Just another reason to smile. She lifted up one foot and brushed the semi-imbedded stones away before continuing on her way through -- and across -- the darkened high-street of Sunnydale, California.
***
It seemed as if no sooner had she closed her eyes than Buffy woke up. Really woke up. From sleep, and from the dream. It was kinda stupid, she thought, for a Slayer to have a reoccurring dream about sex with some of the dead undead. But it happened. Every night. It was as if she was leading a double life when she slept. It could have been a Slayer-dream, she supposed. Slayer nightmare. Except it wasn't telling her anything about impending doom. It was just shaming her. Telling her she should feel bad. Making her feel bad. After what she did to Angel. And how she handled his death. And possibly even about how she couldn't get over it. Move on. Forget one undead boyfriend for another.
If Spike hadn't been a Vampire that excuse might have been believable. He had dogged her during her waking hours just as Angel did while she slept. And she didn't even love him. She wanted him though. And she put up a good enough pretence of the other. Not that he loved her either, she had no disillusionment on that subject. He'd only ever mentioned the word love' to her once. And that had been months ago when they'd first officially hooked up. He was using her as much as she was using him. But it would be over soon, she guessed. And that idea somehow made her feel better.
Buffy turned her head to the side, her mind tripping from one Vampire and back to the other. Angel. The dream. That night, which almost mirrored that her own first time. Buffy stared at her clock through the darkness of the room and found it was only just past two in the morning. She waited for the tears to start falling, as they usually did. Falling from her eyes and into her pillow until she could sleep again, unhindered, and then wake again in the morning with the dream and its aftermath seeming never to have happened. She waited, but the tears didn't come. No release. No sorrow. No pain. Just waiting. After a long moment of trying to cry she stopped. It was useless. She was useless. She'd just have to go to bed unsated, just like dream-Buffy.
But as she tried to fall into the promised oblivion a question from her dream sprang up in her mind again to disturb her. Abridged. And in a different context. Or possibly not, it was all so foggy. And she just couldn't help wondering if it was valid. True. If the answer she thought was true. Whatever it was about the question, it kept haunting her. Touching her. Intimately. Raping her confidence at the moments she need it most.
Was she not good...?
(Author's Note: And if you're reading this chapter and thinking 'huh?' you probably didn't see the note at the top. I'd love to post the NC-17 version here, but I think it would be irresponsible for me to do so under the labelling of an R-rated fic. No matter how many warnings I give. And because ff.net doesn't like NC-17 any longer I saw the post-a-link as the simplest solution. Ce la ve. I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed so far, and pre-emptively thank anyone who is soon to review. I'm glad that you've found the sequel, and I hope this chapter wasn't too disturbing for you all.... Or upsetting for Angel fans, because don't get me wrong, I love the big-overhanging-forehead-dude. Really. I hope the storyline is intriguing enough to keep people reading. If I don't post again for a while, everyone have a good Holiday. And Christmas too, if you celebrate that.)
