Fanfic
I claimed one of amyxaphania 's gorgeous banners @ spuffy_wonder 's Art-to_Fic-Challenge and here's the fic that it inspired me to write!
Title: Love On Paper
Characters/Pairings: Buffy; Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Word count: 1 115
Summary: Post Chosen. Buffy's POV.
Ten letters Buffy Summers wrote while grieving.
A/N: Special thanks to amyxaphania for inspiring me with her gorgeous banner and to spuffy_wonder for the awesome challenge.
What I tresure the most in fics is characterization so I want to make something clear. This isn't Buffy, this isn't even Chosen-Buffy, this is my view of a postChosen-Buffy, if you don't like her, it's ok, I bet you have your own postChosen-Buffy. With that said, go ahead and read, comments are very appreciated. Thank you!
Her hands were sweating. She was holding the pen so tightly that it was soon going to crack and break under the power that was the Slayer’s grief. The tears were silently running down her cheeks but no sobs or cries passed her lips. She’s been through it all already.
She’d done the crying, she’d done the screaming. She’d put guilt on herself, she’d put guilt on everyone around her, she’d put guilt on him. She’d tried to hate him, she’d tried to forget him, she’d tried being with others. Nothing helped. Sooner or later the cries died on her lips, the accusations and hurt ceased to matter, the hate paled in comparison to the love. Soon all the lovers in the world couldn’t help. All the smiles and friends couldn’t warm her. She was dead inside once again, now that the death was gone from her life. And only the tears stayed.
I waited. After the Hellmouth collapsed, I waited. I stood there and waited, believing that you’d come out, that you’d come back, to me. You didn’t. I hated you so much for it.
Waiting,
Buffy
Dawn is afraid of me, they all are. They aren’t afraid for themselves, they’re afraid I’d hurt myself. Willow keeps telling me how I’m strong enough, how I’m stronger than her and could move on, could keep living. She doesn’t see herself. Part of her has been dead since the day that bullet entered Tara’s body. Part of me is dead too.
Xander doesn’t say a word. He knows. He doesn’t want to believe that it’s the same for me like it’s for him but he knows it is, and he knows how it feels. So he doesn’t say a word.
Giles doesn’t look me in the eyes anymore…Or maybe he does. Maybe I just don’t look in his.
Andrew is being a pain in the ass. I like it. It reminds me of you.
Even though a part of me is dead,
Buffy
I got a bit beaten up today. They say I don’t have to patrol anymore. They have no idea how much I need to.
I need help. Not with cleaning my wounds or anything. These would be gone before I can clean them. All super Slayer now. I need something real. Remember that real kiss? The one after you got beaten up? It wasn’t real. It didn’t make a difference, not in the end. In the end in was too little. And not real enough.
Not real at all now,
Buffy
I tried hooking up with a guy again. Won’t be able to try again anymore. We danced and he was too warm, too slow, too calm, too easy. Too not you. I let him buy me a drink and then I let him kiss me. I nearly threw up. I hadn’t touched the drink.
I can’t kiss anyone anymore. Can’t touch anyone. Can’t look at anyone. I think I’m not gonna get out of my room for a few days again.
Staying in and waiting,
Buffy
I have a big bed in my bedroom. It’s warm and soft. It has little pillows, exactly like the ones we slept on in that house. London doesn’t have good shops. I couldn’t find covers like the ones we slept on. I found them in another town. Their on my bed now. I like them, they look good. The bed is all ready and waiting, and I’m lying on it. Why aren’t you lying next to me?
Not understanding what you’re waiting for but waiting all the same,
Buffy
I exited my little made-up world today. I let myself remember. I let myself feel. I let all the feelings wash over me. They were so hot, burning me. Burning but never leaving a trace. I want them to. Leave a trace. Leave a scar. Why didn’t you leave a scar? Why didn’t you leave something? Anything!
I remembered and I didn’t hide from the memory. You didn’t believe and my heart didn’t believe that you didn’t. It does now. It knows you were right not to trust it.
My heart was honest only once and it wasn’t enough,
Buffy
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
I tried writing it on the sky today. Did you manage to read it?
Still trying,
Buffy
Andrew found my letters. I almost killed him. Dawn managed to stop me. I hate him, I hate the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me. Like he suddenly understands me. He doesn’t. I hate him.
He also says he has an address for me to send my letters to. If he’s wrong, I’ll hate you too. If he’s right, I’ll hate you even more.
Most of all, l will and I do love you,
Buffy
Knew it. I knew it. There had been an address. There isn’t one anymore. The Apocalypse or something. Giles cares. I don’t. There’s no address anymore.
I hate you,
Buffy
I put on a red dress ‘cause red was your favorite color. It was, right? I never asked. I should have. But I know it is so that’s OK.
I can’t wait anymore, you see. Love on paper is better than no love, right? ‘Cause I can’t live with no love. I can live with no love for myself but I can’t live knowing that I can’t give you any love. I’ve had love in my life. So much love. Most of it I deserved and so I gave some in return. I never deserved your love. So I never gave any in return. I couldn’t accept it. I should have. I know what it’s like now, to have your love rejected. It feels like you’ve gone through the greatest of efforts just so you can pull out a piece of yourself and give it to the person it belongs to, and he looks at it, and it’s bleeding and waiting to be taken, but he doesn’t take it, he just stares at it, and you look at it too, not getting why it’s still in your hands, and you grab it tighter and try to put it back in, and you push, and push, and try, and try, but it never goes back inside, never. And the funniest part? That piece is your heart.
How many times did you try to put it back in? ‘Cause I’m already tired of trying.
So I’m putting on my red dress, and my red shoes too, and I’m taking all of my letters, and I’m coming to give them to you. Along with the heart that I can’t put back in.
I’m sorry,
Buffy