Part Twelve
"We need to talk." Angel says.
"Talk? Why talk? Talking means bringing up things, and we never do the whole bringing-up-things-talking-thing. We don't talk." I babble quietly.
God, I am such a basket case.
Angel cracks a smile.
I feel sick and lean back against my plush cushions.
"Why do we need to talk?" I mumble.
"What happened to us?" Angel asked.
I snorted, "You want me to list the reasons?"
He scowls, "I'm serious."
"So am I."
"When did we begin to hate each other?" He asked.
"Hmm, maybe before I died the second time…or maybe it was after you slept with Darla." I retort dryly.
He growls.
"No, I can do that too, so don't even start." I say.
I think.
Oh!
Light bulb!
"Is this the life you wanted me to have, Angel? Think about it. Is normal pretending to love someone and lying to your friends everyday? Is normal finding out your sister isn't real and is some kind of a key? Normal is walking into the living room and finding your Mother dead on the sofa? Dying for the second time? Having your friends dutifully rip you out of heaven because they miss you, having an affair with your arch enemy? Finding out that you're a hybrid, the only one of your kind…a freak? " I ask, my eyes are now blurry with tears, "Is this what you wanted for me, cause if it is, let me tell you thanks. Thanks for giving my this crack job of a life. Thanks for leaving me alone. Thanks for making me miss you so much every day that it feels like I'm dying. For making me pretend that every guy I'm with is you, but they can't be. Never. Thanks a whole fucking lot."
I bury my head in my hands. I have a pounding headache, I feel nauseas, and all the pain that I've carefully buried over the past four years comes barreling back, hitting me with such a force, I think I could pass out.
I should.
It'll make him feel guilty, the stupid hunky bastard.
"I wanted you to have a normal life…" He murmured.
"Normal is so overrated. Normal ended when I turned 14! Before you knew me.
When my parents started to fight. When they started to sleep in different bedrooms. When I was called by some freaky old guy who just happened to die because of me. Normal has been nonexistent for years, Angel, even before I knew you. I'm the Slayer, destined to save the world, see what really goes on in the shadows, destined to die before she hits 25. I don't know how you expect me to find normal when what I do *is* normal." I sigh.
God, get a clue.
"You deserve normal." Angel mutters.
"Normal what? A husband? 2.3 children? A small house with a white picket fence? I don't want that. I can't marry someone who doesn't know what really goes on. I won't have kids, I can't even take care of my sister. I don't want a house, I happen to like my apartment." I argue.
"But, you weren't supposed to live like this! You were supposed to be happy, to be at peace. To be like any other normal girl!" He exclaims.
God!
Sing me a new tune, this one's getting old.
"I am happy! Most of the time. So, the occasional apocalypse and my irregular
bouts with death may make me a little bummed, so what? I'm going to collage, I'm living off of Daddy's money, and I can finally drive, what more do you want? This is as normal as it's going to get, sweetie!"
My voice was mocking, but, get this, I DON'T CARE!
I'm getting upset now. Not upset like mad, but just emotional upset.
Doesn't set too well with liquor in your body.
My stomach churns.
He's silent.
"What, no argument?" I say sardonically.
He sighs, "How did we get this way?"
"Don't ask me. I screwed myself up long ago. Nothing much makes sense anymore." I mumbled, trying to ignore waves of nausea sweeping through me.
"It wasn't your fault." Angel tries to sooth me.
"The hell it wasn't."
This is the Angel I remember.
Not the dork Angel.
Not the Cordelia loving Angel.
Not the champion Angel.
My Angel.
Of course, being the stubborn bitch I'm known to be, I'll never admit that, to anyone. Not even me.
What a sense maker I am.
"Buffy, I still lo-" Angel starts.
I jump up and shake my head.
"No, no, NO! Don't go there. Just stop."
Oh God…
The room is spinning.
I went to Six Flags once back when I lived in LA with some friends. We all went on some ride that had you strapped in and it spun. When we got off, I was so dizzy that I fell down the metal stairs and had skinned my knees so bad. But, my vision had been swimming, the sun, sky, and bright colors swarming into this big kaleidoscope of colors.
I puked.
All over Tyler's ugly-ass, preppy, Abercrombie and Fitch shirt.
It was on helluva time.
I feel against my couch, and I felt like road kill.
I know, colorful expressions.
Well, shut up and leave me alone! I'm sexually frustrated, emotionally unstable, drunk, and not to mention that I have my-former-kinda-still-but-not-lover in my house—err--apartment.
Excuses, excuses.
And now I'm talking to myself.
What else is new?
"Are you ok?" Angel asks, breaking my metal argument.
"No." I answer.
He moves to help me and I shove him away, "Look, don't touch me!" I snap.
He sigh in frustration, "You're so damn stubborn sometimes."
"Yeah? Well, you're an idiot sometimes." I retort.
We're so second grade here.
Ohhh, maybe now he'll pull my pigtails!
If I wore pigtails that is…
Technicalities.
"Buffy…" He says.
How can he say my name in so many different ways?
When he's mad its like *Buf-fy*!
When he's sad he kind of sighs, like Buh-fey…
And when he euphoric its like…never mind.
Let's NOT go there.
Angel looks up at me, his eyes are unreadable.
"What happened to you?" He finally asked.
I look up at him sharply, "Excuse me?"
"Who are you? You're not the Buffy I know, the Buffy I remember." He says.
"Sorry, sweetie, people change." I retort.
"See? This right here. You're sarcastic, you're bitter. You are a bitch, Buffy." He sneers, his face disgusted.
I stand up, damn the spinning.
"How dare you!"
"How dare I? Buffy, I'm making a simple observation. Who. Are. You?"
"Simple observation my ass. Seems like you're taking tact lessons with Cordelia.
I see they're improving." I sneer.
"You weren't like this. When your Mother… When I saw you before… You were different. Like you were. Not this-this pod person." Angel stammered, seeming to falter through words.
"Sorry if I mess up your dream of Perfect-Buffy. You don't know what I've been through. You don't know! So *don't* come into *my* home, in *my* town and tell me who to be. Angel, go back to LA." I hiss.
"I *do* know what you went through. Hell, Buffy! You went through hell! You lost your Mother and found out your sister was some sort of key! Then you had to be *noble* and kill yourself!" Angel mocked me.
"Don't you dare-!"
"Dare, what? Tell you that you were selfish! And stupid! Because you were! You couldn't think of anyone but yourself. Only what you'd be losing. Not what we'd all be losing!" Angel yelled.
I could tell that he was truly upset.
But…
Did I care?
Hell no!
"Selfish?!" I scream, "You call it selfish for busting my ass every god damned night for 6 years?! For saving people who hate me? Don't even know me! Who could care less if I was dead or alive?"
"WE cared that you were alive! Don't you see? You had many people who DID know you and who DID love you AND YOU DIDN'T GIVE ONE FLYING FUCK WHAT WE FELT!!! How badly we hurt because you had to be so self-centered and take a leap off that tower. It wasn't your life that was supposed to end. You weren't supposed to die. DAWN WAS! She's not even real. The monks made her for one purpose! To die!" He yelled back.
I saw red.
Blood red.
I suddenly had him be the throat and he was pushed up against my wall.
"Don't you EVER talk that way about my sister! She's ALL I have left. My Mom left me. My Dad left me, and lets not forget your dramatic exit. If she would have died, I would have been alone, again. With NOTHING! You know NOTHING about this so don't make lame-ass assumptions about this."
"So, you were worried about being left alone." He sneered, and my heart almost stopped at how much he looked like Angelus right now, "YOU were worried about YOU being left alone yet you gave no thought as how the rest of us would feel. How alone we would be."
"Who is 'us'? And 'we'? Since when have you been apart of this? If my
memories are correct, you left in '99. That happened in '01. You haven't been part of any of this 'we' for quite awhile."
It's a low blow.
I know, I know…
Angel shakes his head, pissed off as hell.
"You left everyone, without a second thought. Without a care with what would happen. Sunnydale with no Slayer, it's only a matter of time before they'll die."
"You may have forgotten that I'm not a Slayer. I'm a half-breed." I sneer.
We're then quiet, I mean, what else is there to say?
Sure, we could throw more accusations in each others faces and scream until we both vamp out, but what good will it do?
Nothing.
It'll make everything worse, maybe so bad things will never be right again.
But…what's right?
I don't know anymore.
My life's too fucked up at the moment, too clouded for me to see good and bad.
"He's not human." Angel finally says.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"That guy you were…dancing with." Angel stresses the words dancing, "He's not human."
"No surprise there." I mumbled.
"Be careful." Angel mutters, then leaves.
Just walks out the door in that silent way of his.
Mr. Stealthy.
I look at the clock and sigh. It's past midnight.
I guess a quick sweep of the cemeteries wouldn't hurt.
Besides, maybe I'll work off all this pent up frustration.
Sigh.
Whatever.