Writer's Block Meme from ambitious_woman : The Final Product!
Prompt:
"...but since when do people like us get what we want?"
- John Crichton
from justprompts
Timeline:
Season 7 : "Touched"
Buffy's still feeling the aftershocks, even here, even now.
Their words had done more than sting. Each one had been a hardened blow that she hadn't been ready for. She'd really thought herself ready for anything. Mutiny in the ranks -- that was a new one, though. Because it wasn't the First manipulating them, it wasn't some dark Force compelling them against her. It was her. It was what she'd done.
It was everything she hadn't done.
She doesn't feel like a hero, sitting alone in the middle of the room. She feels shipwrecked. Like she's drowning.
But when Spike obliges and wraps his arms around her, and she sees reflected in her eyes that word - hero - she doesn't recoil from it. It'd be easy enough to. But it's not false, and it's not worship, it's just a simple recognition and it rings deeply. There's no accusation there, and so she allows herself to breathe again for a moment. She wishes she could push away all the ugly words, just not let any of it get to her. Was it selfish to care so much, or was it selfish to have let it get so far in the first place?
She finds herself repeating those words in her mind as her thoughts drift to what it means to be here, in Spike's arms, not feeling empty, not feeling alone, because he's there. Is it selfish to care so much, or is it selfish to have let it get so far in the first place? Maybe, in the case of Spike, it was a little of column A and a little of column B. Maybe, what with the world going all possibly end-y so soon, she shouldn't be letting herself feel so content, for this moment. Maybe she should still be playing the hero.
After all, that's the spirit of the hero, isn't it? Selflessness. Even when you've been granted superpowers, the ability to get whatever you could possibly want for yourself, it's the heroes who focus on what others want, and lose their own desires in the face of this. But right here, right now, that's the opposite of what she wants.
She wants to feel. She wants to want.
She would really like to be free to just desire.
"Spike..." The word drops off her lips, and then falls away between them. She's not sure where to go with it. Instead of looking uncertain, or hopeful, or anything in between, his expression just softens even more, and his eyes smile at her, reassuringly. She doesn't even have to finish the thought. He just knows.
She wishes she could just know anything, at this point. Any one thing. An anchor. To know things would be alright. To know she had the strength to do this. To know that no matter what, when she turned around, her friends would be there.
But Spike would be there. She knows that. Just as he holds her now, keeping her from drifting further ashore tonight, he could be that one thing. She wonders when that happened. She doesn't really care.
There's a line between them now, since what happened that ugly night, and crossing it would be practically shameful -- laughable considering how that word defined their relationship at one point. But tonight, it doesn't feel like something to be ashamed of.
It feels a lot like love.
So she doesn't take it, doesn't take more than that feeling from him, the comfort of his touch, the words he doesn't say. Because she finally knows that it's exactly what she wants, and this time it's not self flagellation, it's not escapism, it's not self delusion. This time it's real.
So she cannot have it. Because a hero can't live in a real world. They have to get by in fantasies.
She lets herself have her glass castle tonight.