Taken By Truth
by Alexandra J. Campbell aka FuffyChick45
Disclaimer: The Following characters belong to Joss and Company no
copyright infringement is intended.
Feedback: Yes please, it keeps a writer going. *With the begging*
I feel a hard, harsh slap breaking air across my face and if I wasn't so turned on I might actually be surprised, but then again, maybe not. I called her on everything else.
"Now there's my girl." And you are, aren't you? You are enough to realize it, perhaps too much resenting the hell outta it. Funny you weren't two days ago when everything was still 'right' in the world.
"No I'm not going to do this..."
"Why not, feels good, bloods rising..." Before I know it I'm pushed off my feet and onto the ground, the sentiments that could have changed everything float off into no-where.I look at her momentarily helpless underneath the crate. Should have been me, but she always has to take the fucking fall, now doesn't she? And yet, I'm offering up assistance. Damn hands. Damn heart. I'm doing the thing that she does, thinking too god-damn much or maybe not enough. I can't tell which sometimes, but as she takes my hand I'm literally knocked to the ground as opposed to the figurative. Looks like the world falls apart just in time again, before I have...sweeping primatively into battle mode and all... the thinkings gone and I'm loving it.
I waste all of them, the stake still in my hands as I realize Trick's got her cornered. Not my girl. Not today. He explodes into dust and I see those aqua greens widen as ashes fall in front of her. She looks a bit surprised to even be breathing and I try not to hurt by the shock. It's as if she thought I could let her go because I'm thinking I'm dispensable enough she could me. Shrugging sadly I unstiffen and let the stake fall slow to the side. Something in the gaze is screaming 'come closer', but I'm incapable, so, ever-so tentively, she walks the two steps to me. It's un-nerving what goes down next. She raps her arms around me. Something inside feels like it's trembling. In the past my gut would tell me to push away, but on instinct, I melt into this embrace. No reason to ask why, when I already know the truth. Fingers sink into her back grateful from the push out from under the crate and she clutches back for the fact I wasted Trick. I know she cares now. I know I do. We can save each other from everything else, just not ourselves.
We're off to my place with this eerie silence all around, but she can't seem to look at me. For some unknown reason I'm still trying to make eye contact like how close she's walking ain't enough. No way in hell I'm going to kick myself for what I said, knowing all along that I'm right, like she does. On the inside I'm struggling to understand why I need HER too so much...it's cause she's the only one that could. Despite the reluctance, the so-called burden, it hits her harder than she wants it to. About as hard as it hits me. There's a spark that no one gets, that I do. I spose' I should be grateful, if it wasn't for the mere fact that it only lasts for as long as I'm around and never acknowledged otherwise, I would be. She ain't miserable when she's with me. She's a sarcastic bitch all the damn time, but less repressed. I don't think it's just the gig either...I think it's me.
Maybe it's because I don't expect her attention and dode on her every single word like her lil groupies. Huh. If only she knew. I think she does. The way I look at her it's more than obvious, but I don't worship the ground she walks on. She ain't my god, she's my equal. That's right, equal. I'm the only one who is. She can go on being bitter all she'd like, but she couldn't breathe without me anymore than I could her. I get by with her mere existance and I know that's a mutual.
I'm the dark half of a whole it scares her that she's in touch with, but all her 'morality' doesn't shake me up any less. There's a balance. A respect. We'd meet in the middle or walk on the wild side every now and again, but I'll forever be the first to fall, whether it's in her mind or mine. I'd almost be jealous if every principal she spewed wasn't some moronic, hand-fed ideal, or piece of hypocritical bullshit. She's smarter than that. Better than that. It's time she owns it. She's tainted by everything else around her... even if she thinks I am. We don't owe the world anything, it doesn't owe us.
I could say her leaving would have been her loss, but know deep down that's only cause it's mine. I make her life easier with whatever we got, highlight that perfection, but this is the only place in ages I could call home and she's the only person I could call my friend, though, somethings got me thinking it's a little more complex than that. It is if she wants it to be, pretty cut and dry to me.
We get to my door and I give her an 'after you' motion... because if I didn't invite her in she wouldn't be compelled to come. She's about as sheepish as soul-boy when she doesn't gotta be. The place is clean. Surprised myself actually...lord knows why. I guess I did it the day after the night she came here when we crashed that cop car together and she threw me the look 'do it or die'. I wanted it accomadating in case she stopped by, that orrrrr.... I was planning to seduce her the night I killed Finch... you be the judge. The jury. The executioner... hold up.. B's got that covered. All I know is she's looking about as sad and pouty as I was the day I found out tall, dark, and broody was back....staring at the t.v. like she's lost something. Maybe it's herself. Maybe it's me... maybe I AM gone. Maybe it's on her...in her.
I'm staring at her staring past me her jaw going slag again like we were back at Giles office. When she finally meets my eyes her throats so tight she's resisting the urge to swallow. All dry-mouthed and shit.
"Thanks for the..." I interupt her midsentence.
"Just doing my job." Crossing my arms I size her up as neutral as possible, but intently none-the-less.
"Cut the Bullshit," See. Under that.. she DOES got a pair. I almost get defensive til she presses on in the more 'Buffy' sorta way, breaking out into a smirk despite myself and give her the liberty of doing so because it gets me hot the way she went about asking in the first place. I give her a nod.
There's an apprehensive sigh before she goes on, "There was more to it than that." Wow. She ain't as blond as I gave her the creds for. My brows crinkle and I frown spatting, "Yeah. Not like it fucking matters." I'm restless. I start pacing like a wild-animal you'd see on the discovery channel. I get up, go to the window, and look out into the darkness, out into the night so inviting. Hating myself for my mouth. My honesty. I can't lie... at least to her, but take comfort in the fact that for once, she can't lie to herself.