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Detaining Desire

by Alexandra J. Campbell aka FuffyChick45
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. Joss is god aka the living end...the affirmentioned characters are copyright of him and his whole posse... Mutany Enemy, Fox, Exc.
Description: 3rd Person Ficlet about Grad Day 1.
Author's Notes: First third person I have wrote actually.. at least first POSTABLE third person I wrote ;)
Feedback: I'm a whore, give me more. I'd probably make my day :D

She's bleeding now. She's bleeding blood she didn't know she had. Bleeding blood she didn't know existed pumped from a heart that was swallowed into the snug of her gut and now lost in an auburn flow of nothingness. Invincibility seems like a blurry pipedream rapped up in her leather clad jacket pocket.

And it's far beyond hurt. Hurt was a hundred miles ago on a dead-end road and an exit sign that lead to Sunnydale. Yes. Armed with nothing, but a wallet-sized photo no one would ever see from the Watcher's Council, she approached the ghost town flicking her cigarette down to the pavement. It didn't matter that she neglected to step on it. She just watched it dim with the smoke hovering round her and ashes all around. Watching it dim the way she knew she would before even setting foot into the city limits.

It would be a weeks worth of watching. Observing. And in the slow motion drop to the ground that week and every second after, every prolonged moment of their interactions and banter, pulsated through her mind while consciousness began to fade...becoming a luxury instead of a right. Just like those moments. Just like all those moments near her that'd be stripped away with a simple flick of her wrists.

"You said I was just like you... that I was holding it in.."

"Ready to cut loose."

Cut loose. Words that were inappropriately oxymoronic. Ties couldn't be broken, strangled, severed, or obliterated like bone and flesh. Ties couldn't be mangled and split into two by the meer penatration of a knife into the gut of the one you loved. Solid steel has no such power and secretly no objective.

When idol hands are helpless...When the owner of them confused, shaken, and in such denial they take on a mind all their own..

It's Desperation. Wild and passionate and so distinctly untamed that the only other thing that could have been done with it it was to love. To Hold. To Cherish.

The shock of what occured was as precise and countculated as the action itself. Both of the owners of that one brutal weapon looking at each other in horror wanting so vehemently to have done what was meant to be done with those hands. Lost in a glance of intent before a reflexive blow to the 'heros' face.

That blade plunging into that stomach was simultaneously sliding and ripping her own. Last words spoken before it was done echoing in her ears hauntingly...

"Man I'm going to miss this.."

The sentiment was psychotically wistful. Pure. Honest.

And watching her plummet.... Watching herself plummet along with her she reacted the scenario over and over deluding herself with the multiple possibilities of her not hitting her in the first place. Unleashing a completely different violence.

"Give Us A Kiss"

.....Goodbye.

The End

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