(no subject)
I should be tired. Every muscle in my body should be screaming for the rest I was sure that they needed. After all, I had been careless and abusing the past few days. To the extent that I couldn't let go of the care for anytime long enough to really sleep. Faith and I had talked most of the flight over from England, me curled up on the sofa of the media room as she took down countless whatever-they-weres on whatever game it was. That wasn't the whatever that mattered, not that I was ready to delve into the ever, or the what. This wasn't the time, and for once that seemed the mature answer.
I used to think that it was fear that kept Buffy alone when she desperatey, seemingly didn't want to be lonely. At least from where I had watched and lived in the place of best friend. But I was beginning to reevaluate that postition, standing somewhere different as I was. A little bit less a friend, and a little bit more a leader. Not just a leader, because I don't know if it was really who I was. But I did feel like Willow again, and even if I didn't know what that meant? I knew what it felt like. I was actually reveling in what it felt like, fear of the world ending aside. It was right up there with the reasons to make sure it went on.
No more than half a dozen of the others were here in Vegas with me right now.
The entire trip from the airport to the hotel I couldn't take my eyes off Illyria and Wes, wondering in the part where I placed the 'and' between them. Not the connection that Illyria had wanted for so long, and the one that Wes had avoided for even longer, but there was more definitely still an and. And? I treasured it a bit too much. It scared me how close we had all become in the past few months, considering how unintended it all had been. So, did that mean it was desperation? Or something as close to destiny as we ever got? All I know what I felt when I looked at them. It was so much safer when I didn't care this way, but back to the part when I finally felt like me again? I had never done well with distance.
It was why the Council nearly killed me.
I suppose that should be a part of tonight, or at least it could be. Getting some back. Pushing in the way they had pushed me, manipulating Buffy's death and fabricating Dawn's until I didn't know which way was up anymore. Only -- down. Down to where the bodies, and everything else that was broken went. They had wanted her, a side of me I had desperately wanted to pretend didn't exhist. And thanks to Faith and Giles, they had failed. Faith had ripped me out of a place I was mindlessly ready to stay in, and Giles had reached me when I was determined not to be. They didn't get her, and -- and there was that word again -- I stopping trying to pretend anymore. She was simply more of the story, more of me.
They had wanted her? Cain had wanted her?
Maybe tonight I would let him see.
Tne bag of supplies fell heavy at my side, and with one hand I tried to lift it up a bit. I hated the color the nessecery ingredients had formed, distinct in their three seperate jars. Crimson and dark, it called up images of Sunnydale...and other things. Other people. Soon enough the jars would break and my part in all this would start, and I would just have to remember to keep looking up. Becuase if I didn't, I knew I would be unable to stop watching. To make sure that no other red mixed with what I had chosen to make.
I hadn't changed that much.
Impulsively I leaned over to brush Faith's shoulder, stealing a bit of her warmth when I had carelessly let most of my own go. Smiling briefly I picked up my steps, pulling forward to walk next to Wes and Illiyria. I nodded to Wesley, then reached out to quickly draw up Illyria's hand within my own. She was tense, and ready for whatever I might not me, and I expected her to start at the touch. But without a glance she seemed to know it was me, and I held her hand that much tighter before pulling away.
Things had changed that much.
And?
...and I was ready.
I used to think that it was fear that kept Buffy alone when she desperatey, seemingly didn't want to be lonely. At least from where I had watched and lived in the place of best friend. But I was beginning to reevaluate that postition, standing somewhere different as I was. A little bit less a friend, and a little bit more a leader. Not just a leader, because I don't know if it was really who I was. But I did feel like Willow again, and even if I didn't know what that meant? I knew what it felt like. I was actually reveling in what it felt like, fear of the world ending aside. It was right up there with the reasons to make sure it went on.
No more than half a dozen of the others were here in Vegas with me right now.
The entire trip from the airport to the hotel I couldn't take my eyes off Illyria and Wes, wondering in the part where I placed the 'and' between them. Not the connection that Illyria had wanted for so long, and the one that Wes had avoided for even longer, but there was more definitely still an and. And? I treasured it a bit too much. It scared me how close we had all become in the past few months, considering how unintended it all had been. So, did that mean it was desperation? Or something as close to destiny as we ever got? All I know what I felt when I looked at them. It was so much safer when I didn't care this way, but back to the part when I finally felt like me again? I had never done well with distance.
It was why the Council nearly killed me.
I suppose that should be a part of tonight, or at least it could be. Getting some back. Pushing in the way they had pushed me, manipulating Buffy's death and fabricating Dawn's until I didn't know which way was up anymore. Only -- down. Down to where the bodies, and everything else that was broken went. They had wanted her, a side of me I had desperately wanted to pretend didn't exhist. And thanks to Faith and Giles, they had failed. Faith had ripped me out of a place I was mindlessly ready to stay in, and Giles had reached me when I was determined not to be. They didn't get her, and -- and there was that word again -- I stopping trying to pretend anymore. She was simply more of the story, more of me.
They had wanted her? Cain had wanted her?
Maybe tonight I would let him see.
Tne bag of supplies fell heavy at my side, and with one hand I tried to lift it up a bit. I hated the color the nessecery ingredients had formed, distinct in their three seperate jars. Crimson and dark, it called up images of Sunnydale...and other things. Other people. Soon enough the jars would break and my part in all this would start, and I would just have to remember to keep looking up. Becuase if I didn't, I knew I would be unable to stop watching. To make sure that no other red mixed with what I had chosen to make.
I hadn't changed that much.
Impulsively I leaned over to brush Faith's shoulder, stealing a bit of her warmth when I had carelessly let most of my own go. Smiling briefly I picked up my steps, pulling forward to walk next to Wes and Illiyria. I nodded to Wesley, then reached out to quickly draw up Illyria's hand within my own. She was tense, and ready for whatever I might not me, and I expected her to start at the touch. But without a glance she seemed to know it was me, and I held her hand that much tighter before pulling away.
Things had changed that much.
And?
...and I was ready.