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TITLE: Life
AUTHOR: Nico
E-MAIL: stoprobbers@yahoogroups.com
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns the characerts. I own the fic.
TIMELINE: Season Three, through "Homecoming"
SPOILERS: Up to and including "Homecoming", which puts it early-Season 3
SYNOPSIS: Buffy takes a good hard look at her life.
DISTRIBUTION: Take it. Just tell me where it's going.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a *dark* fic. I'm in a *dark* mood. There is happy B/A in it for a little, but generally, it's DARK. But good, I hope.
FEEDBACK: I will take your feedback to a McDonalds parking lot and do unspeakable things with it.
RATING: STRONG R for LANGUAGE and CONTENT
They don't understand. They won't ever understand.
"Are you okay?"
"Are you hurt?"
"Hey, is Deadboy still happily undead? I mean, no too happily but--"
Makes me want to punch him in the fucking face when he calls him Deadboy. I mean, seriously. It pisses me the fuck off. Because Angel's saved his life how many times and he *still*--
No. No, that's not the point and I already feel like I'm about to rip my hair out of my oh-so-motherfucking-precious head, so it won't do me any good to get any more angry.
They just don't fucking understand. None of them, not even Angel. Not even Angel in all of his good intentions and unconditional love--
And that path just hurts too much.
Can you have a heart attack from emotional pain? I mean, I've heard when you have a heart attack it's like this huge squeeze and then you go numb. I don't know how accurate that is, being that I've never been in that position myself in the past, but... My heart's squeezing like there's no tommorow.
And I can say with certainty that I'm quite numb.
I want them to understand, I really do. I want them to know why I can't be HappyBuffy for them right now. I want Willow to understand why I really can't sympathize over how Oz is going to be out of town tommorow night, that one lucky night this month that her parents will be out of town. I want Cordelia to understand that I just don't have time to get a cauppucino with her and Xander tonight at the Bronze. I want Xander to understand that I just can't fucking smile at that SHITEATING GRIN HE FLASHES ME EVERY FUCKING DAY-
I need to calm down.
I want Xander to understand that nothing will ever be right with us again. I want him to understand that he is a shitfaced bastard who hasn't ever pulled his head far enough out of his ass to even see a glimpse of the big picture. I want him to understand that I lost all respect for him the moment I realized that the little booster to "kick his ass" came not from Willow's lips, but from his own jealous mind.
And I want him to understand that in that moment, I wanted to kill him with my bare hands.
I want Willow to understand that I could give a fuck less that Oz is a werewolf and she's dating him because he's a normal goddamn human 27 days out of the month, so why should she fucking complain? I want her to understand what it's like to have the LOVE OF YOUR GODDAMN LIFE try to kill you for months on end while you go on loving him because you can't stop. I want her to understand that she should NEVER try to help me ever again because the last time she did I sent the LOVE OF MY GODDAMN LIFE to hell.
And I want her to understand that when I realized that, I wanted to kill her with my bare hands.
I want Cordelia to understand that I couldn't care less about deisgner shoes and cauppucinos. I want her to understand that her snippy remarks make her look like a complete idiot with a fish's brain in her head. I want her to understand that I couldn'tve cared less about HER as competition for Homecoming Queen, and that the ONLY reason I even tried was to try to feel normal again. I want her to understand that sour, sour taste that rose from the pit of my stomach when I realized that she cared so little about anyone other than herself to afford me that luxury.
And I want her to understand that when I saw that, I wanted to kill her with my bare hands.
I want to tell Angel how much I love him, and how fucking sorry I am for sending him down to those evil pits for god-knows-how-many-centuries. I want to fall on my knees and beg for forgivness, even though I'm nowhere near worthy of it. I want to tell him about Los Angeles and Anne and how I almost fell apart completely. About how I dreamed of him every night, from the moment he turned to the moment he came back to me, and even now. I want to assuage the need I see in his eyes with tender kisses, and I want him to understand that the only, THE ONLY, reason that I don't is because I am so afraid. So very afraid.
I want them all to see the ruins of my life; the nightmares, the tear soaked pillows, the rambling journal entries of nonsense, the hallucinations, the ruined eating habits, the continual lack of sleep. I want them to taste the bile I throw up every time I see a cladauggh ring. I want them to feel my heart clench as it fights to beat, and my lungs struggle to breathe. I want them to see the endless fights I endure, night after night, death after death, wound after wound. I want them to see the rivers of blood that flow from my fingertips. I want them to see the vampires of their friends who I'm forced to kill moments after they rise from the grave. I want them to see the bruises and scabs from the wounds I inflict on myself, not by my own hand but through reckless carelessness that's a death wish in disguise. I want them to see why I can't be there for them right now.
Because I can't. Because I have to live my own life. And because this is my life.
Oh god. THIS is my life.
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